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googoobabajogwick · 1 year

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Hot Knife chpt.1

description: Trained as children at the Roma Ruska together to be partners, you and Jardani were bound to live a wild life together, just not in ways you’d expect.

What happens when after sixteen years of dating you break up and ten years after that Jardani, or should you say John, finds you and comes back with the one thing that still tied you to him.

Your marker.

triggers: Only putting major triggers such as; Lots of misogyny, talks of sex trafficking, trauma from sexual assault, smut and unhealthy coping mechanisms like drinking and drugs the reader is a bit unhinged. This chapter includes smut and talks of sexual assault and trafficking nothing too graphic. Lots of trauma

If ur watching the John Wick movies imma go ahead and assume you can handle what other stuff I have in here.

word count: 7k

mini authors note: this didn't at first contain spoilers but now it does but the only major spoilers from the movie aren't till later in the story like chapters 9 and 10. I posted this on my Ao3 (and tumblr but I didn’t rly try) up to chapter 8 but it’s on a mini hiatus bc I'm rewriting every chapter bc I'm crazy like that. Feel free to go read those but I will be reuploading the new chapters when I have them all done. Y’all get first peak…

--->

Chapter one: Hot Knife

You sat at the edge of your bed watching a violent movie where the woman was currently fighting back and winning. It brought a smile to your face. These types of movies always gave you different types of ideas to use when you were sent out on missions. Plus movies were the only thing keeping you preoccupied at the moment.

The Director had you confined to your room for “starting” a fight with one of her other students at the Ruska Roma. You were always getting in trouble but it's not your fault you're better than everyone else. It's also not your fault people are annoying and like to try you. That was just stupidity on their part.

You had been trained alongside the infamous Jardani Jovonovich, which meant you had just as much training as he did. On top of that you studied medicine from a young age with some guy appointed to you by The Director and were considered somewhat of a genius, so some may even say you were better than Jardani, but you had still only beaten him once in what was just supposed to be a sparring match.

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you took a bite of your sandwich. The woman in the movie had died, typical of these movies. You wished Jardani would finish his stupid hit so he could entertain you. It should be any day now that he’d come home. You might even go as far as to say you missed him…

Your relationship was complicated. More on your end. Jardani’s wishes were very clear. He wanted to be with you. Of course you wanted to be with him… Maybe? Like you did but something in your head kept telling you no; That things would not work out, he’d get annoyed with you… Scared of you even…

That one made you laugh. The idea of scaring a man like him would make anyone who knew him laugh. Jardani had gotten to the point where he liked to act in private, like you two are dating even though you’re not. He cuddles with you, makes out with you all the time, calls you when he’s away to ask how your day has been. Sometimes multiple times a day. It gets people mad because he’s using up the direct line and others have calls to make!

The two of you have long, deep talks with one another, go out together, hell the two of you have photos of the both of you framed and up on the walls of your room. He’ll tell people he has to ask you before he does anything and you’ll say the same about him, this leaves everyone rolling their eyes. All Jardani wants is you and anything you’ll give him. He wanted to walk around holding hands and kissing you when he felt the urge, even in public, but you were scared. Scared deep down you’d hurt him.

When you beat him it was a couple weeks after the most horrible experience of your life. People don’t realize how much shit you get as a woman for being one of the only ones who was not subjected to being a ballerina, learning the graceful ways of murder rather than the brute force the men did. Also the title of the future second most talented and master assassin going to a woman didn’t sit well with the men. You just didn't belong anywhere you felt.

The girls and women there sneered at you and the boys and men mocked and belittled you. You tried to be nice, but you’d never let anyone walk all over you. Many tried to harass but many ended up getting some bones broken, except one boy, his name was Vladimir. It came out of nowhere, a whole plan created right under your nose.

You were smart and for him to trick you and Jardani with such ease, you’ll never know how he did. Your whole life you were taught not to trust anyone, the one person you knew you could trust was your partner. No matter what anyone told you, you’d always blame yourself for that time even though as a girl you were always a potential target for that kind of hate.

There were multiple men there, they said, though you only remembered one. It was a blitz attack they said. Five months you’d been gone they said. It was a betrayal they hadn’t seen coming, they said. They’re sorry they said but you couldn’t hear them. You continued to stare out the window, dissociated, hoping to never feel again. The leaves blew and whirled around in the breeze. You wished you could feel as free as them. Your forehead pressed against the cool glass in the infirmary.

It was supposed to be an easy and simple hit.

Any progress Jardani thought you two had made as partners felt as though it had been erased. He saw the pain in your eyes, the unshed tears as you pretended you were somewhere far, far away. Five months ago you’d be making fun of him for being so worried, five months ago you were starting to open up to him. Five months, five months, five fucking months.

He should have saved you sooner, in fact you should have never even been taken. The betrayal of Vladimir was rough. Nobody had seen it coming and Jardani beat himself up everyday for it. The nightmares of bright blue eyes were taking a toll on you. All your feistiness, all your grandiose nonsense, he’d give anything for you to smack him upside the head or call him an idiot again.

Instead you were a shell. For the first time he saw a fifteen year old little girl. Someone who didn’t belong in all this nonsense, the girl you always tried to hide. Jardani was the only male you allowed anywhere near you. He was patient though, sitting at the end of your bed every night to make sure when your inevitable screams would come it was his face you’d wake up too and not a needle to sedate you.

He made you feel safe. Even in your most vulnerable; Clothes ripped up, hair matted, malnourished, beaten, bleeding and violated. You never understood how he made you feel this way. As you stood in the corner of that cold, horrible room, Jardani’s eyes seemed so familiar, you knew that no matter what he’d never hurt you, and he never did.

Jardani killed him. Vladimir. He beat him to death, in front of you with his bare hands, making sure that the older boy suffered but the others got away. Without any names though every lead fell dead. You refused to give him names but not because you didn’t want him to kill them, but because you didn’t want to think about it.

You had so many cuts and bruises when he found you cowering in the corner with a knife in your hand. When he asked, you told him you got it off Vladimir during all the commotion— in which you found out was him and other people from the Roma Ruska killing everyone— The now dead student had cut a ‘V’ into your shoulder leaving a scar as a forever reminder of the violation and dignity you lost.

Stuck with physical and invisible scars as strong reminders of your trauma it was no surprise your first day back to training was not good and it was the only time you've ever beaten Jardani. He had always been stronger than you in strength and more talented. Once you’d even compared the both of you to Mozart and Beethoven.

Where one was a natural prodigy the other had their talents forced onto them when they were young by their father. Jardani laughed at that and proceeded to call you Beethoven for a month. He was an expert at fighting even at sixteen, skilled and experienced. You learned how to fight from your father but even he wasn’t an expert but he did teach you how to get your way.

The Russian Hunter.

That’s what the media called him and it wasn’t even true. Your father was a proud Ukrainian and hated being called Russian. He owned the house when he moved to America with you at five years old and your mother. The small cabin-like house sat on a huge one hundred thirty acre piece of land. You and your father used to go hunting and camping together in the woods. It was how you bonded.

The two of you were so close and you knew he loved you. By the time the New York Police discovered he was literally hunting people deep into the forest, you had known but didn’t know what to do. Everything told you to call the police but you were twelve and he was your papa. Your mother had always wanted a son. You’d never think a father who liked to hunt and was so stereotypically masculine was happy to have a daughter.

He taught you how to shoot a gun, hunt, skin a buck, survive in the wild and off the grid, to slaughter animals— which helped you learn to kill people quite easily, it was almost the same thing— and to fight. Everyday, he’d make you practice since the day you could walk it felt. All the time when you’d mess up or get hurt he’d tell you,

“You have to toughen up and learn how to protect yourself, my little sun.” He would speak in Ukrainian while grabbing your face and staring deep into your eyes that looked so much like your mothers.

“There are evil people in this world, specifically men. As a girl you will someday become a woman. Many will think you’re weak but that’s not true because you’re my daughter.”

Little did you know, he was one of those evil men. He was strict but loving towards you. Everyone always told you that you looked just like him. People also told you that your personality matched your Belarusian mothers. Miserable, cold and liked to suppress feelings. Your parents almost seemed so formal with each other. In fact you didn’t even know your parents loved each other until one night you found them dancing and smiling.

Yet you didn’t blame them, having grown up in the U.S.S.R and surviving a famine, they were taught to be cold at a young age. That moment stayed in your memory forever; your mothers smile and your father’s laughter when someone would mess up. It’s the reason you loved to dance, even if it was by yourself.

As much as your mother made your life hell— pushing her insecurities onto you and never giving you the nurture you needed— you still loved her and missed her too. Your father gave you the love you needed as a child even with all the trauma of finding him stabbing a man in the woods when you explored a little farther than normal.

Oh and watching him and your mother be shot by the police when he pulled a gun out and she drove in front of him.

She knew as well as you but times were different. It was 1976 and she felt it was her duty as his wife to stay silent, which ultimately led to her death though she had not physically harmed anyone. At twelve years old you could never imagine loving someone that much.

The lead detective on the case took you under his wing for a little bit before confessing to you that he found you to be a very demanding, morbid little girl. He talked to some people who went to The Director. She made you fight a male student of hers when she saw how you overpowered the female student.

It wasn’t that big she was weak, you demolished him as well, your fighting was just… Different. Animalistic, brutal, and terrifying. You liked to bite, play dirty and go a little overboard. She knew with her training, you would be perfect, possibly one of the best. The Director also knew a current student who seemed to be heading in the same direction. What a partnership the two of you would make…

With that she took you into her care.

When you showed up to practice you were on edge. You had a bad morning. The nightmare you had last night left you feeling sick but The Director said it was time to move on. Life is suffering, she used to say. Not the warmest woman on earth. You walked into the training room and heard Jardani arguing with her. They didn’t hear you at first.

You could always sneak around and hide in the shadows. Growing up, you would always eavesdrop on important conversations and then you’d run back and tell Jardani everything. He was your best friend and it was fun to talk about the drama together. It was often you’d hear a,

“Y/N, get out from behind there this second!”,

And a smack across the cheek.

They stopped talking when you made your presence known but you knew they were talking about you. He looked at you with sadness in his eyes and you just shrugged your shoulders. With a sigh he joined you on the mat and prepared to spar with you. He went easy on you until you heard something.

You don’t even remember what was said, but after a couple of soft swings and light pushes you almost just felt as though the goddess Athena had entered you, you felt the anger and screams of so many scorned and abused women in the past and present coursing through your blood, but even worse, you saw your partner as him.

You let out a heartbreaking scream and charged at him. He was able to dodge and get a few hits in but you caught him off guard, not expecting an actual fight. Once he was on the ground all you remember was sobbing, screaming and his blood all over your hands as multiple people pried you off of him. You had to be sedated as you screamed and screamed and screamed.

His arm had been broken, his nose and you almost blinded him in one eye. You got quite the scolding from The Director before you were allowed to see him again. She wanted you nowhere near him but that wouldn’t stop you. You’d change his bandages, wash him with a washcloth and while he was passed out you sobbed by his bed.

You asked yourself how you could do this to the one boy— let alone person— you felt safe with. The one boy who made your heart flutter in ways you've never felt before, you couldn’t describe it to anyone, certainly not Jardani himself. Who protected you and made you feel like you could forget everything. All the pain.

When he could get up and do things himself you locked yourself away in your room refusing to eat or speak for days. Until he himself came into your room and hugged you, telling you that you were pretty fucking scary but hes okay and you will be too. Jardani was more worried about your mental state. He told The Director it was too soon but she waved him off.

That night he kissed you. It wasn’t the first time you kissed but it felt different. No kiss had ever compared, the closet thing that could come wouldn’t be for years and that would be exchanging each other's markers. The traumatic event made you not feel anything anymore. Not anything good at least and definitely not trust.

But that kiss, despite the fact you flinched away, felt soft and nice. So nice in fact you couldn’t get enough. When he left to go get you something to eat you couldn’t help but let your fingertips brush against your lips. You wanted him to come back and do it again and again. It was nothing like how Vladimir or the other men would kiss you. He could never hurt you, not like they had, that was a fact in your own mind.

Although things had never been official, you would always sneak into his bed and cuddle with Jardani at night. It stopped your nightmares. This wasn’t so out of the ordinary but when it became constant, it became a problem. The Director was not too fond of this relationship. She tried separating you two but then you both started acting out, to make up for it she started sending you both out on missions alone.

She thought you would get in his way, that your love would be too suffocating for him. All her hard work flushed down the drain because of a girl. That made you laugh because years later, now at nineteen it would seem to anyone that he liked you and you just… Weren't all that interested but they also didn’t see the two of you in private either.

You liked being brutal and you liked being scary and you liked gore and would even most likely be diagnosed as a psychopath, it did run in the family, where you could still see the humanity in Jardani no matter how much he liked to try and play it off. You could only feel sympathy for the women and girls.

Everyone here was an orphan, everyone here had a backstory and the girls were treated horribly. You experienced it yourself and it wasn’t fun. The pain and no free will. Having to practice over and over till you fall over exhausted. Just to get right back up and do it again.

A lot of other students would mock you two whether it was because they wanted to see it happen or because they were jealous. Jardani was hot, there was no doubt about that and you were too but that didn’t stop people from treating you like shit. They either wanted to be with you or they hated you. So you liked to be alone.

To you it felt like one of those high school based movies you’d watched with him a couple times. People respected Jardani so most of the jokes or remarks fell on you. They were scared of you but that didn’t mean they didn’t like to get underneath your skin. They pissed you off but you learned to deal with it. The students were good but you were better so at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. Plus, you were his partner, so who really won?

With a bottle of coke in one hand dangling off the bed while the other held onto your half eaten sandwich, you heard a knock. Your head whipped around to look at the door. You dropped the bottle and threw the sandwich in your garbage bin a large smile, knowing exactly who it was. Jardani always announced himself before he walked in, it made your heart go crazy because it was his room too.

As soon as you saw his short shaggy hair that was getting quite long and his iconic facial hair you paused the movie. He always sorta looked like a puppy to you, well, at least when he looked at you or The Director was scolding him. Jardani was supporting a nasty bruise on the side of his face.

“Aww my pet is back and he seems to be hurt..” You caressed the side of his face

He rolled his eyes before pulling you into an embrace.

“I missed you, my Athena.” He breathed in the scent of your hair.

You let yourself fall into the hug. Everyone who asked got the same exact answer. The scary assassin was being used for sex. You’d even tell Jardani to his face that if you could marry his cock you’d have no use for him himself, but thankfully he had a pretty face too. And you guess he had a pretty charming personality.

You could never love someone though, you tell him you aren’t faithful to him, that you have men lining up to be with you, that he is disposable and he puts up with it. Even when you accuse him of seeing other women or just wanting sex like most men. You verbally abuse him trying to push him away and yet he stays.

The two of you fuck, cuddle, go out in public together, spend all your time together but won’t put a label on it. This caused a lot of issues. Like arguments that would be fixed with a simple promise and label. Although you know at this point he knows you’re a liar— that you don’t talk to anyone else—he doesn’t need to know that… you know he knows. So many small lies.

Lies that he’s not constantly on your mind and just how badly you want and yearn for the security of knowing he is yours forever and only. Life had taught you that nothing was secure and nothing was forever and that you didn’t feel good enough for him. But nobody would ever hear those thoughts ever. Or so you thought.

“Heard you were grounded.” A laugh left his mouth. “What did you do this time?” He asked.

“It was just some of the others. Guess they didn’t like the look I had on my face.”

“I’ll make them regret saying anything to you.” Jardani kissed your forehead while you scoffed.

“Oh don’t worry I already did that.” You giggled.

He smiled at you while squeezing your hips before leaning toward you for a kiss. His hands came up to hold the sides of your face, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone. After such a long time away you knew what he wanted and got straight to the point, like you always did, your hand traveled down to his belt. Your hands toyed with the buckle.

“They fucked up your beautiful face, don't tell me they hurt your best asset though, right?”

Jardani shook his head no with a slight smirk before pushing you down on the bed. His lips connected with yours in a passionate make out session that said ‘I missed you, I wanted you’. Your hands threaded through his hair but you couldn't help but press on the nasty bruise that was on the side of his face. He winced but moaned before moving one of his hands to shove down your pants. His fingers immediately circled your clit causing you to thrust up, groan and pull away.

“Are you going to pleasure your Goddess, Dani? I know you want my pussy.” You said in a lustful way.

“Fuck yes, yes.” He pulled off your pants and underwear before kneeling in front of the bed.

The black haired man started by trailing wet and sloppy kisses all the way from your ankle to your hip, the inside of your thigh to the outside, then he turned and did it to the other leg, all while thanking you for letting him touch you this way. He knows you hide the fact that you’ve never ever let a man touch you like this and in return he's sure to try and let you know he’s never touched or even wanted to touch another woman since the first time you’ve had sex.

Jardani always knew how to make you feel like you were melting. Like a liquid that would seep into the mattress of happiness and bliss. You'd go as far as to say he made you feel nice. But the niceness only lasted for so long. Your hand shot up to his head to keep that distance between the two of you. You felt guarded, you grabbed a fist full of his hair and yanked so he looked up at you. The two of you looked deep into each other’s eyes and you could see the love in his and he could see the cold in yours.

“You’re my John Doe tonight. Unidentifiable, nobody.” It was morbid but it had become a nickname of yours for him.

As he always did he just smirked at you before saying,

“I have served, and will be of service”

Usually he’d kiss every inch of your body but he couldn’t wait. He leaned down to suck on your clit. The minute his lips wrapped around your sensitive nub, you threw your head back. God, he had been gone for so long. Too long… Your hands worked just fine but almost nothing beat having your pussy devoured by the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

His tongue swirled around your clitorous before he brought his hand up to slip a finger in. Much thicker than yours plus with the angle he was at he could easily rub your g-spot. He could feel that it had swelled and continued to rub it. At this point you were thrashing around, gripping onto his hair and pushing him harder against your pussy. There was no doubt you’d be getting reprimanded later, you had always been loud when it came to him.

What was to be done though? You weren’t allowed to go out somewhere private and he had been gone so long. You could have left and rented a hotel to “celebrate” his return… It’s not your fault, so they must hear the noises of your wonderful and amazing fornication. You hoped they were jealous and disgusted.

You rolled your eyes in your mind thinking about how even as an adult you were confined to your room. Soon you and Jardani would move out. The two of you had been talking about it recently since you were almost twenty, it was time to move on and get the fuck out of the Roma Ruska. Be independent, take hits when you both want to and fuck everywhere.

He did mention that he considered joining the military to train under Marcus. A man he had met and formed a bit of a mentor ship with over the last few months. His friend was nice and very charming. You enjoyed his company but hated that he was trying to take your Jardani away from you. It scared you, you knew he could be gone for long, extended periods of time.

You didn’t like to be away from him, you always felt so lonely…

However you were pulled out of those thoughts by Jardani flattening his tongue as he looked straight into your eyes and shook his head like a dog. You felt like you almost crushed his head and killed him with how hard you wrapped your thighs around his head. Your hips bucked in wild motions as you squirmed, your back arching off the mattress and his arm came up to hold your hips to the bed. While his fingers rubbed your g-spot over and over.

“I missed your taste, come on my fingers and tongue, please beautiful.” He gasped out while he tried to catch his breath and his fingers pumped in and out of you.

Diving right back in, he moaned at you pulling his hair, hard. The vibrations were like heaven on your clit. A hard, loud grunt mixed with moan like noise left your throat. Never before had you ever made a noise like that but Jardani was good at doing that. You held his head in a headlock with your legs as you humped his face, taking as much pleasure as you could get from his fingers and tongue.

You released him and got up while panting. He was out of breath as well but smiled up at you as he licked his lips and then whipped his cheeks.

“God I’m addicted to your taste baby.” His face was covered in your wetness and it made you laugh.

You also laughed at his tight and uncomfortable looking pants. Your hand came and rubbed him through the strained fabric. Jardani closed his eyes and sighed, bucking up into your light touch. He needed you but you were evil. One more time. You’d tease him one more time. You palmed his hard cock and made out with him, swirling your tongue around his, tasting yourself.

With a nibble to his bottom lip causing him to grunt you pulled back.

“Fuck I need that again. Lay on the bed John. Now.” You commanded him.

Jardani didn’t even have time to lay on the bed before you shoved him down and crawled on top of him. You kneeled above his neck looking down at him and bit your lip. He looked delicious. Sweaty, his pupils dilated while looking up at you and panting as he waited for you to speak. Waited for you to order him what to do. You gave him a soft kiss and an even softer peck on the side of his face where his bruise lied.

“I’m going to sit on your face, John and you're going to eat me like you haven’t eaten in months.” You held him up by his hair and then let his head fall back onto the pillow.

Not like it would be hard, it had been months since he last tasted your perfect cunt. Your pussy was wet and it almost dripped onto his face but just in time you sat right on top of his mouth, leaving his nose uncovered so he could breathe. Jardani’s large hands came up to knead your behind as he tongue fucked you. The man tried to get the wet muscle as deep as he could.

He always called you his Goddess and it was times like these when believed it to be true. Your taste was addicting and the power he could feel coursing through you as you sat on him, using him like an object. He would be yours and yours forever. If Gods and Goddesses existed then he existed to serve and please you.

“What do you think the other students would say? If they saw you like this, hm?” You threw your head back.

His response was muffled but you didn’t care what he had to say.

“If they saw their perfect, big and bad assassin underneath my pussy.” The lustful laugh that left you was cut short by a groan.

His tongue went back and forth from licking your clit to fucking you the best he could. You leaned back and began to palm his hard cock through the dress pants causing him to moan. The vibration on your sensitive nub caused you to begin riding his face and before you knew it you were cumming again and cumming hard.

The noise that you made almost made cum in his pants but he just held his breath and wrapped his arms around your thighs to keep you on his face while you used him to ride out your orgasm. Intoxicated by pleasure, with wobbly legs you jumped off the bed and with very aggressive manners started to undo his belt buckle.

“Get these fucking pants off right now.” You felt like a sex crazed maniac at the time and maybe it was because it had been so long but you didn’t care.

When you pulled his boxers down his cock sprung up. Precum dribbled down the side of his dick and you couldn’t help but lean down and have a taste for yourself. The appendage twitched and you laughed. Sucking on the tip, Jardani hissed and grabbed the sheet of the mattress. It was a salty but a familiar, intimate taste.

Climbing back on top of him you grabbed his cheeks with one hand. He winced once again. You dragged the tip of his cock through the folds of your soaked pussy. After two orgasms you were sensitive but so ready to finally be with him again. You really did miss him, a lot.

“You see Johnny, I was going to make you go finish yourself in the bathroom, but like I’ve always said, your cock is just too irresistible.” You always got dirty during sex but something felt different this time.

“Do you think you deserve my pussy? Do you want to put your cock into my warm pussy? Tell me.” The grin you gave him was evil as you ground down against his hard cock.

“Yes, please, I know I am nothing but a John Doe to you but please, I serve and worship you forever.” He was breathless.

Only you could ever get Jardani to beg for anything.

“Forever? Just me?” You questioned and he looked deep into your eyes.

“Yes. Just you. Forever.” He whispered.

Without warning you sat on his cock. This time he let out a loud strangled moan as he tried to stop himself from thrusting up into you, wanting to be as deep in you as possible. It didn’t matter anyways because you planted your knees on the mattress and started bouncing up and down, riding his dick. His hands came up to help you as he watched your face.

You were in total bliss. Your head was thrown back as your nails dug into his chest leaving little crescent shaped indents there. A surge of pride ran through his chest as you showed him that it was him who was allowed to do this and see you. The woman who barely talked to anyone and when she did it was usually to say something so blunt or tell someone to fuck off because she was awkward and cold.

The woman he felt knew him better than anyone. The one he grew up with. His first and only real crush. How she didn’t care about what others thought. She didn’t shave, she dressed how she wanted and wore the same clothes, usually his, constantly, you weren’t afraid of others opinion.

There was just something ethereal about you, even when he’d walk into your shared room and find you sitting on the toilet with the door wide open and a beer in your hand. He loved you and he’s known that since the first time you were introduced and you called him a swine and expected to be pampered by him. When he didn’t at first you just ignored him, but he caved. Too curious to get to know you and he’s glad he did. Life didn’t feel so lonely.

Your hands ripping his shirt open and off snapped him out of his thoughts this time as the buttons flew everywhere. You started to roll your hips while you began to bite, suck and lick hickies all over his chest that was glistened with sweat. Jardani was not a loud man, not at all, but you could get him to sing. The moans, groans and grunts that left his mouth were like music to your ears.

You tapped his face gently making him look you straight into your eyes. As you knew his entire focus was on you, you began to roll your hips in a way that spelt your name. Your way of claiming him, it was your pussy that was fucking him stupid. You giggled when you saw the look of awe in his face and then bent down to swirl your tongue around his nipple.

Jardani didn’t know how much longer he could hold out, especially after months away, months of fantasizing about this moment. He couldn’t help it, he brought one hand to pull you into a kiss while the other rubbed your still very sensitive clit. You cried into his mouth as he started to thrust up hard. His cock kept hitting your g-spot over and over, you knew you were going to cum again soon.

His hand held the back of your head as he rested his forehead against yours. He watched your face as you almost couldn’t keep your eyes open. You reached around to fondle his balls and he groaned out. Then the pressure grew and grew and grew. It kept growing and you knew it was your approaching orgasm but something felt different… Like you should’ve used the bathroom before you fucked but it was too late to say anything.

“Holy fuck, I’m going to cum again baby!” You cried out feeling the familiar tightness in your lower tummy, “Cum in me Dani, I want it in me.”

You hadn’t even noticed the slip up or that you were twitching against Jardani’s chest, his hand no longer in your hair but holding down your hips. Your vision went white as howl like sounds came from your vocal cords. He was in awe. You were perfect to him as you came undone on his cock. Everything was wet and you almost felt embarrassed, thinking you had peed yourself.

At the moment you couldn’t care. The one time you ever felt all your walls come down. This was paradise, this was right where you belonged, this felt like Heaven. You couldn’t even think but you did feel the pressure on your hips get very tight and warmth inside you. Jardani held you hard against him, releasing his seed into you with one of the hottest moans you thought you’ve ever heard. You were squeezing him so tight it was unreal.

He rocked your hips against his with his hands as your pussy convulsed and you milked his cock. You were in a daze, like you literally felt drunk. Jardani stopped moving you as he became too sensitive.

“I think I pissed on you.” You slurred against his chest.

The rumble of a laugh was felt on your cheek as your lover began to kiss the shell of your ear and then nibbled on your earlobe, rubbing your ass and back in soothing motions. Softly, he gave you a couple hickies on your neck, tickling you and making you squirm your neck away from him, but you’d always let him mark you. For as much as you told everyone it was nothing but sex you sure were proud to show off your fresh hickies.

“That was called squirting, my angel.” He said the term of endearment in Russian and then chuckled again when you tried to hit him but missed and hit the pillow.

Jardani tried to move you off him but instead you grabbed onto him and told him to stop. You left small kisses on his chest as you laid on top of him begging him to stay like that for a little while longer. Your body still jerked every so often and you couldn’t believe you were still orgasming. Your lover's cock was already softening inside you and you twirled his chest hair and pulled at it making him bat your hands away.

“I love you Jardani Jovonovich. I love you, I love you, I lo-“ You always said it after sex and he cut you off before you kept going.

“You’re just saying that because I just gave you an Earth shattering orgasm.”

You leaned up this time to learn forward into his face. He let out a groan at the movement from his cock still being inside you. You kissed him again as much passion as your physical body would allow, hoping he could feel everything you had been thinking and feeling. Only death could stop you from wanting to kiss him but even after that you knew you’d still reminisce about the feeling.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you while you were gone.” His heart throbbed at how shy you sounded. “I missed you so much.”

Jardani gave you a quick smooch.

“I missed you too, so much. You’re my reason to come home, my Goddess.” He pressed his nose against yours.

“Dani, I think this Goddess may have met the one human male that she could ever fall in love with.. Oh my god we can have little demi-god babies..” You smiled.

“If you don’t get off me that may be happening soon.”

You slid off of him sitting by his side. You didn’t look at him just at the wall as you thought. The cum that leaked out of you was warm and your heart had started to race. You wanted to run but you couldn’t move. Based on the way Dani was looking at you let you know he was too, lost in his own thoughts. Oh my god you were feeling so many emotions. What had that orgasm done to you?

Without even thinking you began to trace the scar on your shoulder. You wanted to just run away to the bathroom and cry but before you could you felt him adjust up so he was sitting behind you. his hand grabbed your wrist where he started to kiss your palm and fingertips. Jardani is so good, so nice. You wouldn’t cry even if you wanted to. That’s what you always told yourself but the past few years it’s felt like all you did.

“I’ve been thinking about it. While you were gone… A lot. Well more than a lot. I’m terrified it's going to end in hurt. Everything does.” You press your palms into your eyes and take a deep breath.

“I’m scared that if I make this real you’ll know the real me.”

“I already know the real you.” He kissed your cheek.

“I meant it though. I’m a pretty sick fuck but you make me feel some.. Not fucked up things. Besides the thought of killing anyone else who tried to get with you. You’re all mine, Jardani Jovonovich, if we do this. I’m scared.” You removed your hands from your eyes and he grabbed your wrist.

Ever since your capture you’d been going down a dark road. More cruel and unnecessary kills, being scarier and taking your anger out on anyone who got into your way. What if one day he gets sick of your actions, of your mental agony, and decides to leave after you let him in? His lips against your wrist made it hard to entertain those thoughts.

“Always. And I hope that means you’re all mine as well?” He kissed your palm again.

“Always.” You blurted out with no thought whatsoever.

He looked at you with a soft expression and then all of the sudden he was worried by the devious smirk on your face as you turned to face him fully.

“Now that's out of the way. We still aren’t dating. You have to take me on a nice date!” Demanding as ever, you wouldn’t have him ask you after sex!

Jardani smiled, showing off his slightly crooked teeth. There was his feisty girl. He laughed his rare but adorable laugh before wrestling you so you were under him. A yelp left you as he pinned you down and nibbled on your collarbone. There was no escape but you felt safe. You knew he’d let you go if you wanted him to.

When he was done assaulting your collar bones with his tongue, teeth and lips he looked up at you with a grin that took your breath away.

“Baby, I’ll take you on the best date of your life but first… I don’t think our little reunion is over yet.” He hinted at his hardening cock that slapped against your thigh.

“Well then,” you reached around to line his cock up with your entrance and guide his hips forward by digging your heels into his ass, “I’d say it’s time for round two.”

“I agree.”

By the end of the night, the two of you were well spent. You felt proud of yourself, for talking to him and for finally giving this whole relationship a chance. As Jardani got up to run you both a shower— excited for his date with you after you two washed and he convinced The Director to let you leave the theater— you couldn’t help but think about everything.

You two fought it for years and you just couldn’t believe it was one orgasm away from coming all together.

#john wick fanfic #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #good lord I love this man

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threehuskiesinatrenchcoat · 8 months

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Well well well, we‘re back at it again.

You‘ve seen a big part of this before bc I can’t keep this shit from you, it’s a bit embarrassing ngl lmao. I finished it now tho!

The rest of it is on ao3 bc I refuse to post smut on here. Do others do it? Yea. Have I read it? Yea. I won‘t tho. I wanna be able to show my blog to friends, sorry. Can‘t have horny mfs on there for that /hj

This drabble is inspired by the John Wick movie-verse. people r legit sleeping that one

For easy access imma give y’all the link for the series real quick (and yes, I made it into a series, so any and all comments on later chapters r lost but it’s easier to navigate now, hopefully):

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3828004

Enjoy!

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

Vargas was looking at him, all half-lidded eyes and contemplative smirk and it was driving him insane. They’d been at the bar for about an hour now, low lights dancing through the room, bathing it in a dizzying mix of pinks and blues, drinks flowing freely for everyone around them. Phillip knew this wasn’t the moment to get drunk, though. The mission to infiltrate the club and keep an eye on their mark had priority, no matter how much attention his mission partner was showering him with.

“If you’re not careful, someone’s gonna see the way you look at me”, he mumbled into his drink, surveying the dancefloor. Their mark wasn’t as far away as just a minute ago, making her way towards the bar they were sitting at. It was an opportunity, but he needed the Mexican to keep a cool head if he wanted it to work.

“What if I want them to see? The type of rumours it could spark…” The other’s taunting grin irritated him and he shot him a frosty glare.

“It won’t be as fun when the families get involved, believe me.” He ignored Vargas’ dismissive scoff and noted the mark’s position just two seats over. Honestly, there were better ways to spend a Saturday night, but the woman had dirt on high-ranking members of both their families. Discretion was needed and goodwill had to be shown, hence the involvement from both families – no one could secure the information to use it against the other later. Of course, it was Phillip’s luck to get paired with Vargas. Their continued shared work in the past, if reluctant, had proven successful and success was all their families needed right now. Personal vendettas were of no importance in this, never mind any other kind of previous mingling.

With a last warning look towards the other, who rolled his eyes and ordered another drink, he turned around, acting surprised at seeing the young woman close to them. He smiled charmingly when he caught her eye and feigned interest. “What’s a fine-looking lady like you doing here. We haven’t met before, have we?”

She seemed a bit suspicious of him, but smiled nonetheless, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, revealing a glittering earring. “I don’t think we have, no.”

“That sounds about right. I’d remember a woman as stunning as you. I’m Jason by the way, it’s nice to meet you,” he drawled, putting on his Southern charm and holding out his hand. He didn’t like leaning into it, but many people outside the South liked it enough for him to use it again and again.

She gingerly took his offered hand, shook it once and they got talking. Marienne was French and had studied computer science, she owned a small poodle and had a sister. Phillip nodded and smiled along despite knowing all of it already. There was nothing new she could tell him except where she had hidden the information she had hacked their databases for. He would find out, one way or another, the pressure of his gun against his back where he had tucked in into his waistband a welcome reassurance.

Marienne smiled at him again as she leaned forward, asking him to come home with her for the night. It went just as he had hoped it would, but before he could agree, a hand landed on his hip, making him lose his train of thought as Alejandro stood right beside them, eyeing the woman. Graves’ heartbeat synced with the song‘s bass reverberating through the club, heat spreading from where their bodies touched. He must’ve been listening in to their conversation and gotten up when he heard her request. Something dark glimmered in his eyes and Phillip had a bad feeling about it.

The Mexican looked her up and down and then spoke, voice rough and dangerous. “I didn’t think you would want to get back at me that badly. Is she supposed to make me jealous? You can do better.” It was clear he was talking to Phillip despite looking at their target. Graves was speechless; partially out of surprise, partially out of anger. Couldn’t Vargas take the mission serious for even a moment? This was a huge opportunity he was ruining, as the woman looked from him to Phillip and back again, a sliver of apprehension and fear in her eyes.

She was starting to stand up. He had to save this somehow. Standing as well, he forcefully, if discreetly, removed the other’s hand from his hip and pushed him away as inconspicuously as possible. “He’s joking, I’m not with him.” He smiled reassuringly at her and winked. “Why don’t we get outta here, it’s getting late.” She nodded, but was hesitant about it. Graves slipped a tracker into her handbag while she was distracted by Alejandro still only a few feet away from them. It turned out to have been the right decision, as the other grabbed Phillip’s hand still keeping him in place and brought it up to his mouth to kiss the inside of his wrist.

“Oh please, you can drop the act. My attention is all yours.” He practically growled the last words, sending a shiver down Graves’s spine. This was not the plan. Their target took that moment to give a hasty goodbye and vanish into the crowd. Angry, the American turned towards his assigned partner and glared at him. The bar was more populated now, so he ripped his hand out of the other’s and seized his arm, steering Vargas outside and into a nearby alley.

“What the fuck was that? We almost had her!” Alejandro just grinned and Phillip’s blood started to boil. He pushed the other up against the dirty wall of the alley, the suit’s lapels clutched in his fists and his own nose just a few centimetres away from the Mexican’s. With bared teeth, he had to hold himself back from pulling a knife and getting rid of the nuisance in his grasp. “Why can’t you behave like the professional you’re supposed to be for one evening.”

WELL WELL WELL dw dw ily and i would be offended if you _didn't_ give me spoilers to chew on sjhgfdjsfhgsdf >:)

with that i can finally post this thing i drew for it!!! yay

yall, go read the whole thing NOW as usual im losing my mind and screaming and crying and everything in-between im gonna bite my laptop in half and it's gonna be YOUR fault sir

#cod mw2 #call of duty #phillip graves #alejandro vargas #alegraves #johnwickau

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smilereplacedfrown · 10 months

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imma say my truth bc I feel safer here than in twitter but although I do consume shipping culture bc AO3 has THE best writers, some works in there have literally provoked such gut-wrenching reactions out of me that it makes so thankful to be alive. But anyways, fiction still does not equal reality, and that has always been clear and will always be clear.

So this aside, and keeping in mind my perspective overall, although I have consumed BTS fiction since I joined the fandom in 2015, I was never under the assumption that any of the pairings were real bc again fiction is NOT reality. But after Jimin flew across the world for 1 (one) day to celebrate Jungkook’s birthday in 2019???

And after weeks later, jungkook had a whole new sleeve and knuckle tattoos that visually catch the eye with ARMY spelled out horizontally and like a fucking game of scrabble JM vertically???

And Also the fact that the first leaked pic of his tattoos you don’t see the J aka he must have added it after, therefore deliberately ???

I remember my whole view shifting and me going 👀👀👀 ??? 🤨🤨🤨🤨

And this is post GCF in Tokyo era, bc although that was ground breaking and made my heart so full, and although it does come out as a video letter from Jungkook to Jimin, I did not want to push the romantic agenda bc I don’t know them as people and my interpretations on their art might be different that their intention so it was always an open-ended possibility that could have meant romance or just pure friendship, or even something else entirely bc again I don’t know them personally, I’m just a fan.

But anyways going back on my rant, along the blatant “I will fly across the world for you” from Jimin and Jungkooks very real and in your face tattoos (he said on a live more recently the J stands for his name which valid, totally could have been his original intention but he also must know it very obviously spells JM, ok moving on). But what takes the cake of more in your face shenanigans was the fucking hickey.

Literally wtf was this. Why the fuck they showed it. Why did they keep asking. Why did they get so giggly. Why was this not edited out what. Literally me:

Bc I’m still like what the fuck, and I can’t believe they didn’t just A) ignored it like they have done before with members showing some very questionable bruising in their neck before B) covered it with make up C) straight up just not question it further would have been enough tbh. What.

Anyways. That was my lil rant. Like I’m still NOT saying Jikook 100% are together bc again I don’t know them personally and they have not confirmed a relationship publicly (I doubt they ever will). But I AM saying that if they were and if they did announced it, I wouldn’t be surprised bc it’s a little too on your face for it to be an impossibility.

#jikook #you are me #i am you #or something like that

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thedeathdeelers · 6 months

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yknow what it’s like a year and 8 months later but imma post that drabble on ao3

#sorry to anyway who is still subscribed to me on there and who are gonna get a notif only for it to turn out to be an old fic <3 #*anyone

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tequiilasunriise · 2 years

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Alright, so I just made a Wenclair post but imma make another one right now because oh my LORD I just saw the fandom breaking reviews, so sit down and grab a snack because it’s rambling time.

I see that many of you are discouraged from the prospect of Wenclair not being canon, this is understandable as I myself am really invested in these two. Hopefully this goes without saying, but NO ONE should hate on the show, the actors, etc etc. I refuse to let such toxicity run through this fandom. Like, this is just reviews for the first season. Please, I really, really don’t want a repeat of the Voltron fandom and cries of queerbaiting (and I wasn’t even remotely near being part of the Voltron fandom! It just got THAT bad that even I knew of its notorious reputation). Again, the show isn’t even out yet. Who’s to say Hunter going ‘fighting for Wenclair’ didn’t mean the course of their relationship in future seasons? We only have information on a first season that isn’t even out yet, so please, calm down on any hate and queerbaiting accusations.

That being said- y’all telling me you’re not buckled down for a slow burn? Wednesday is a character who needs a LOT of time and effort to build trust with on a romantic relationship level, so getting Wenclair all in one season would have been cool or whatever, but it also would’ve been pretty OOC since season one has confirmed only 8 episodes. On the flipside, the payoff of Wenclair’s growing friendship, that blooming trust, the eventual deep bond between them that not even Wednesday herself can deny? Is that not peak sapphic experience? Frenemies to begrudging allies to ‘I find your existence… not the worst’ ‘ppfft, thanks, Addams’ to friends to friends who would murder fer each other to ‘you are the sun that burns and enchants me, I hope this drought lasts a lifetime’. LIKE C’MON??? THE FLAVOR?? Don’t give up on Wenclair just yet y’all. (That being said, the line about droughts should be in a fanfic so imma mark that down fer later.)

And like, I think this next point is the most important thing to note. We all acknowledged our love for Wenclair as a delusion, ever since the beginning we knew we were pulling crumbs and making silly little headcanons. Yes, I would love if Wenclair became canon. Would I stop shipping it if it never does, though? Let’s see, I am a veteran Whiterose shipper of several years. Those two barely had a conversation in the entirety of Volume 8 and I am STILL willing to die on this hill fer them. I am a Lightcannon enjoyer despite the next to NOTHING crumbs in the entirety of their respective existences. Oh, you would not believe how many rarepairs I hold dear in the Pokémon world. The list goes on and on and on. Canon is cool and all but I hoard my random ships like a dragon of ye olde. Just look at what we, the OG Wenclair Warriors, made with just a few trailers and interviews and random instagram comments. The lovely art, the heart wrenching fanfics, the god tier headcanons. I dunno bout yall, but I’m not ready to give that all up just because canon said ‘mmmm no’. If no one got me, ao3 got me.

Trust me, I am well-aware the importance of good representation and I’m not saying you can’t be disappointed over this. What I am saying, however, is that you shouldn’t always let canon 100% dictate how you’re going to consume and enjoy a piece of media. So what if Wenclair isn’t canon? Their dynamic is AMAZING and nothing can take that away from me. There’s still potential and writing room for future seasons, and to that I say buckle down homies, we in it fer a long time and a good time.

#you couldnt rip these two away from me even after im cold and dead #i refuse i will not let go i WONT I WONT!!!#unless some wildass curveball shit happens in the show I will go down with this ship like a captain in the night #like if Wenclair turns out to be distantly related I am OUT #other than that tho I won’t tell ppl they cant run to the lifeboats #but just know that when the seas have long since calmed #and the memory of the boat is as distant as those never reached shores #know that my bones will rest easy on the bottom of the sea floor #my ship is my tomb and she is a rather gentle one #wenclair #wednesday addams #enid sinclair

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thisliminalspacedaydreams · 3 months

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Hi, probably weird question, but can you offer any tips on how to co-write, like two different authors working on the same fic? How does that work?

hello there is actually nothing i would rather do let me give you the unabridged version because I think people romanticise it and it's important to be real. I'm going to give you all of my experiences and why I did it and which ones worked and which ones didn't.

HERE IT IS :

2-Let's start with @greenvlvetcouch who was my first duo writing experience. I was heavily part of an online thing at the time and I met him there, and we somehow (I genuinely can't remember how but I think it was me) ended up DMing about something, which actually pretty quickly evolved into me throwing a concept idea into the chat, and it just took off. We ended up losing our minds over the library scene from God Eater and that was that. I had read Zar and Jude's fic where every 15 min they switched (I think??) and I'm not a "minute" writer so I suggested to Green we did 700-1200 words each and pass it back. I also have a background in theatre, and I am part of a improv group in my city so improv games was part of my curriculum and I've always LOVED IMPROV GAMES, especially in small groups. (this is relevant for later). That's how God Eater was written. it happened very organically. We wrote it all in four months, in a doc, and didn't talk about publishing it until we realized that actually it was going to be a thing we were super proud of, that we would want to post it. The writing experience itself had none of the stress of "what if it's bad". We just wrote until we were done with no expectation. There were a lot of inconsistencies we fixed when we were done and TA-DA.

Since then Green has been a writing partner for a lot of published and unpublished works. We have several projects, some which we started and never finished because we lost the interest, some that we might publish, we don't know. I think he and I are aligned on the fact that writing is meant to be this fun thing and if the joy isn't there when writing, then the project dies. We had a LOT of really cool fun projects that only lived inside our mutual DMs and I think it still makes them real and great. They just weren't tangible enough to see the light of day. Green and I's writing process isn't *super* involved. We rarely fangirl over each other's works. I think we've reached a healthy balance of we *know* we love each other's writing, so we don't need to tell each other that. We will when a line slaps particularly well but other than that we mostly just hype the story up which is our way of saying we love working together.

Which is a perfect segway into inthesquare and I's writing process (hi I still don't know if I can tag you so imma send it to you after).

2-I'm currently writing a story with her, and our start was very different. I read this fic from hers and lost my mind. I cried and was very upset, it was such a great story, so I left a comment (as one does). What would you know, a few days later I get a comment on my fic about how she freaked out because she liked *my* work. So we literally met the most organically way possible: through ao3 comments. Then the normal pipeline happened: Tumblr, then Discord, then Whatsapp.

I wrote one fic that felt very much like something she would do and asked her to participate and add bits and bobs, she said yes, I was overjoyed. And then a few months ago I popped in and was like... *you like myths, right?* and TADA we have the amaranth hymns.

The writing process with us is very different. We each write until we're done with a scene (which usually ends up capping at 1500/2000 words-ish). We are posting as we go, we have 0 plan, zero foresight, we're just hoping for the best, rocking with a Pinterest board and voice noting each other at 3am going "hey do what was this thing you wrote and what does it mean?" "oh cool" "and so does this mean that X? Cuz we need to Y then" "Yes, right". We're problem solving as we go, and I think we're both kind of unbothered and unstressed about it: the story will write itself, we're just along for the ride. We also don't really hype each other up (a little ya know, when a line slaps), but we *do* talk about the fic itself a lot, which I think is our way of showing our engagement. We talk about the fic because we like writing it (I have a point to make later on bear with me).

3- You remember how i LOVE improve games, right????? WELL. There is a game called the "yes" game. A scene starts, you have a theme and a concept and you can't backtrack. Whatever the person throws your way you have to work with it....hence the "yes". You can only move forward, never back. That's how Raise Hell was created. I asked a bunch of my friends if they wanted to create a frankenstein fic, some said yes, some said no, and Raise Hell got started. I knew all of these people beforehand, so that made it easier. We still want to finish this fic but ya know, life got away from us.

What ended up happening is that there were no "writing" rule aside from : you must write enough to propel the next person. Give the next person *something* to work with. So what accidentally ended up happening is each person ended up writing a chapter.

Now let's talk about the rest:

As stated before, I love writing with people: I have the bandwith to work on numerous fics at once (it keeps my brain fed and entertained, I like the community of it), I like it, and thus I seek it.

But I think (and THIS is my point) that people romanticise it and it can stress people out. This is what I mean:

I started writing fics with several other writers because *I like it and I seek it and it brings me joy*, but some writers didn't like feeling like they were one in a lineup.

I wrote 30k with a writer and then the story died and we never picked it back up.

I have had two people I was writing with tell me they didn't like it because I wasn't 'involved' enough (by this I think what they meant was that I wasn't showing enough hype and enthusiasm for their writing).

I had one person tell me that our writing didn't match up and it felt weird and they didn't want to continue.

I have had one person tell me I hurt their feelings because I made them feel like their writing wasn't good enough by the way I edited.

I think it's important to mention that co-writing *is* a skill and it's not something that will work for everyone.

I have a graveyard of fics and a few friendships that died because of that, too. I'm not a big hyper. I do edit a lot. I show my enthusiasm in ways that perhaps isn't obvious enough. I don't praise other people's writing that much because in my mind, the fact we're writing together is proof enough that I love their writing, but that actually isn't always enough.

And I think the difficult part of all of this is that writing is a very personal endeavour. When you expose your guts to another person and they do not react the way you want them to, it's not very easy I think to say "Hey, you hurt my feelings because you didn't tell me you loved this and that". That's another layer exposed and because talking about hurt feelings is hard and uncomfortable, sometimes it will drag on and take proportions that lead to broken friendships.

So you do have to be careful.

...But I also don't know how, in the sense that *before* you start writing with someone, you won't *know* how they will react to the duo process.

What I'm saying is it' a gamble and actually I have lost more than I have won, BUT I still don't regret trying. I personally have had good experiences every single time. I have grown and I have learned.

I know for instance that writing with Green and Inthesquare is a great experience because we approach writing in the same way and we are all very confident in our own writing. We like how we write. We like how the other person writes. We know that, we don't feel the need to say it.

But I think I tend to forget that some writers (even really good ones!!) can feel self-conscious about their own writing and need more praise than what I give.

So bearing all that in mind here is my advice:

-Talk about what you need from the experience BEFOREHAND. How much hype, can I edit, how much editing can I do, etc etc. When green and I edit our works, we fully destroy each other's parts. We will go in and add and remove a LOT, to the point where it really becomes kind of undetectable, who wrote what, because we're in each other's lines everywhere. This isn't something that will feel good for everyone. When I write with inthesquare, we *barely* edit each other's work. The separation is much more obvious, and I don't really know why this is? It just is? We just kind of never edited the other person's part. And it works really beautifully, too. My point is these are two very different approach yet there isn't one better than the other, it's just different.

Some people do not like when you tinker with their writing too much. Some people do not like when you tinker with their writing at all. Make sure you know what each person is comfy with.

-Decide on a plan: are we writing each for a set amount of time? Of words? Are we each doing a chapter? The only rule is the one you make up.

-Don't put pressure on the work. See where it goes. If it dies, let it.

-I would advise against posting as you go if this stresses you out. That way if the story doesn't finish, no stress.

-Start with someone who you feel very confident writing with. Someone you know, who knows you, where the communication canals are OPEN. You're gonna need to be able to tell each other if someone does something that wasn't appreciated.

Not all co-writing will end up with a fully fledged fic. Not all co-writing will end up being a good experience. If the person you really want to write with doesn't want to write with you, don't take it personally. It just do be like that.

But I'm the kind of person who really has come to love it, and while I'm a lot more picky now with who I write (because I'd love to like, not lose more friends), I think I will always seek it out, especially with the people with whom it's been a success before. I love, love, loveeeeee writing with my friends. I find it so rewarding and fun and great and I have nothing bad to say about it. I just really, really love it.

And if you've made it till here just know I have ONE fic I wrote with 2 other writers that we published under anon. and it's just out there. Doing its thing.

#mar gives the morning news #on writing #cowriting #co writing

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dxncingwithastrxnger · 1 year

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1. it’s been a secret for the longest time

A/N: Hey, guys!!! I've been working on this story for about a week or so, I'm so excited to finally be posting it!!! A couple of weeks ago, I became absolutely obsessed with the song inspiration for this and eventually my brain started applying it to Trilance and I'd say the result is absolutely beautiful. This is actually Chapter 1 out of at least 2 (though I might continue with more than that if people really want me to). Originally this was going to be much longer, it was actually going to include a whole smut scene which would've almost doubled the word count at least, maybe even fully doubled it, but my laptop needs to charge and I need to go to sleep, lmao. So you guys get part one now and part two sometime tomorrow!! Imma have to go back through and do some proofreading later on, but for the most part, it should be good to go!!! Happy reading!!!

Pairing(s): Tristan x Lancelot

Summary: For months now, Tristan and Lancelot have played a game of secret flirting, lustful longing, and maybe even something a bit more. But now that a certain date has finally been set, they're running out of time to decide what they want and Tristan decides he's going to finally make a move to advance things forward.

Tags: Aged up characters (somewhere around 21-24), alcohol, sexual tension, slight Guinevere bashing (💀💀), cheating/infidelity sorta (depends on how you look at it, I guess? But people have tried to come at me for not tagging cheating in the past, so, lmao)

Song Inspiration: Shameless By Camila Cabello (Highly recommend, btw)

Word Count: 4,883

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9]

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Lancelot holds his breath as he waits. It's time. This is when he always shows up. Well, when they always show up, but he could care less about her. It's only him that he's concerned about. And there he is. Right on time. He watches from across the crowded club as two people come in through the front entrance. The flashing lights of the paparazzi that have followed them here were barely noticeable thanks to the heavy door blocking the club from the outside world quickly closing behind them.

A pinkette and a silverette make their way through the dancefloor slowly, stopping and talking to people, going by the bar to get their first round of drinks. Both of them are the closest thing to royalty you can get in their country, and in this club that means they are royalty as far as anyone is concerned. And they definitely live up to the title. A prince and a soon-to-be princess.

They're both beautiful. Stunning, even. They're shining stars, a picture perfect couple. The ultimate couple goals. Their life is perfect and nothing could be better. Everyone wants someone to love them like those two love each other. All anyone wants in life is to find someone who treats them as well as the prince treats the princess. That's all according to the world-wide media, anyways. But again, Lance doesn't care about anyone but the prince.

Finally, after a few minutes, they make their way over to where Lancelot is. Because of course. If they're the prince and princess, then he's a nobleman, his father being the royal advisor to the King himself, after all, if he were to continue his kingdom metaphors. He could even go so far as to say he was a family friend, though he's personally never spent much time with any of them.

"Lancelot, hello!" The princess addresses him kindly. "How have you been?"

He meets her eyes reluctantly. Not because he's afraid or intimidated by her, quite the opposite, in fact. There's just better places for him to look at right now. "I've been well, and you, your majesties?" He tacks on his little nickname for them with a playful grin.

She flushes slightly, but just shakes her head at him with a roll of her eyes while the prince beside her lets out a deep chuckle that absolutely lights Lance up inside. "We've been very well, isn't that right, my love?" The prince looks from Lance to the woman beside him as he speaks.

"Oh, yes, so much has happened recently. We must catch you up once we've finished making our round of greetings." The princess looked to be positively bursting with excitement. She then looks to the rest of his booth with curiosity and confusion, seeming to just now notice the lack of a brunette beside him. "Both of you. Where's your princess, Lance?" She questions, a mischievous spark in her eyes as she teases him with his own nickname for her.

Oh gods, don't let her hear you call her that. She would never let any of us live it down and then we'd have some real problems. He thinks with a mental sigh of exasperation. "She had a business call to attend to, I'm sure she'll be back by the time you two are." He states politely.

They both nod. "We'll be off then, see you in a few." Is called back at him as they turn and walk away. He shakes his head and turns back to the table, downing the rest of his drink in order to keep himself from staring at the Prince's backside as he walks away. He sets his glass back down and tilts his head back, closing his eyes and sighing as he sags in his seat.

The prince and princess. Tristan Liones and Isolde Connors. Son of Meliodas Taizman and daughter of Chester Connors. Chester is someone who started out as nothing more than average middle-class and managed to work his way up the ladder and into the livelihood of the rich after finding a way to create a new piece of technology that allows people to rediscover long lost memories.

Meliodas is the Mayor of the city of Liones, the capitol of our country and the biggest and most populated place in all of Britannia. He's married to the previous Mayor's daughter, so some like to say that he didn't rightfully earn his place as leader of the people, but the truth is, he had already started making a name for himself before he'd even met his current wife, through his connection with the Sin Committee.

They were a group of activists who came from out of town. They're an interesting mix of people. Each of them have their own individual cause that they wanted to focus on the most, so they'd be in charge of that topic, situation, idea, etc. But whenever there was a protest or a meeting or a vote, all the other members would gather to help out. There was 7 of them, so they each chose one of the seven deadly sins to use as a code name, which is also where their official group name came from. They gathered for all kinds of stuff. Protests, uprisings, voting polls, they made speeches and outed assholes who tried to make themselves look good. And they didn't just do it in Liones, they did it all over Britannia. Danafall, Edinburgh, Benwick. They were changemakers and they were damn good at it.

They were planning on eventually traveling out of Liones and continuing on, but then Meliodas met the mayor's daughter, Elizabeth Liones. And he decided to stay so that he could be with her, settle down and actually grow out some roots somewhere. And the rest of his group followed suit, each one finding some reason or another to stay here and build an official life for themselves. Eventually Meliodas and Elizabeth got married and not long after, Meliodas ran for Mayor as Elizabeth's father stepped down.

So, the prince. Yeah, Lance thinks it's a pretty fitting name, considering the whole damn city is named after his family. That choice of nickname definitely doesn't have anything to do with the fact that if told to, he would immediately fall to the man's feet and do whatever else was asked of him without hesitation. It definitely doesn't have to do with the fact that for months, the only constant thought in his mind is what Tristan's skin might feel like and how his lips might taste. And it definitely doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Lance has never wanted any man, any person, more than he's wanted Tristan Liones. Definitely not.

"What's up with you? Tired already?" A voice breaks him from his thoughts as the brunette slides into the booth next to him, having finished up with her phone call.

The only thing making me tired is you, Lance thinks wryly. "No, just lost in thought, thinking over some stuff." He replies, flashing her a quick half-hearted smile. "Isolde and Tristan stopped by to say hi. Isolde says she wants to tell us about some things. They should be back anytime now." He informs her.

"Oh good, it's been awhile since we've seen them, it'll be good to catch up." She states, smiling as she loops her right arm through Lance's left one and leans her head on his shoulder. Lance suppresses a sigh and places an arm around her shoulders out of obligation more than anything else, the girl under his arm sighing contentedly and snuggling closer. He grimaces, glad she can't currently see his face. Luckily, he's saved from having to linger too much on her, as Tristan and Isolde take that moment to appear once again.

"Oh, Guinevere, you're back! Lance said you would be back before we were, but I was worried when he mentioned it being a business call." Isolde admits to the woman at his side.

"Oh, it was nothing, everything is fine now." Guinevere waves her hand in front of her with an air of nonchalance.

Lance stops focusing on the women's interaction as he finally gives in to his urge that's almost instinct by now to look at Tristan. Tristan, who currently appears to be burning holes into Guinevere's arm with his eyes, glaring directly at where her arm is looped with his. Oh. Jealousy was not something seen often on the prince, but Lance is just now realizing that it is a very good look on him. Especially when it's about Lance himself.

Tristan must've felt Lance's eyes on him because his multi-colored eyes were suddenly meeting bright red. Lance's breath hitched. He was suddenly pinned by the hot spark in those green and blue irises of his. Something had changed, had finally shifted in this long game of theirs. He knew right then that tonight would be different. He didn't know how yet, but he was excited to find out, and he made sure to hold his realization and how he felt about it into his expression, with a hint of questioning. The silver-haired prince shook his head with a quick wink, just the tiniest of movements that no one would notice unless they were specifically looking for it. 'Not right now, you'll see.' Is what he was saying. Lance gave a nod in acknowledgement, another barely there movement, and smirked. Tristan is the only reason he really even continues to come here and he never disappoints, not that Lance has ever expected him to.

"So," Tristan speaks up then, clearly having paid enough attention to the other conversation happening to know when to interrupt. "Shall we head up to the lounge? It's so much easier to talk privately up there." He suggests, looking away from Lance and between the pinkette and brunette.

"Oh, yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea." Guinevere says, already getting up with her drink in hand. Lance follows suit as Isolde chimes her own agreement and the four of them head up the club's spiral stairs, the prince and princess leading the way and Lance swears that Tristan is swaying his hips slightly. Gods, he'll be the absolute death of me, Lance groans inwardly.

They enter one of the VIP lounges, the one they enter completely empty except for the bartender at the bar in the back of the room. Lance orders a second drink as the other three go sit down and he walks over to join them soon ever. When he reaches the table that they chose, he freezes for a moment. The place that was picked to sit at was a round, single booth with two spaces to enter it. On Lance's right, he could easily sit down right next to Guinevere, just like he always does, just like he should. But next to Guinevere is Isolde and next to Isolde is Tristan with an open spot right next to him and for a split second, Lance genuinely considers turning to the left and sitting next to the prince. But he catches himself and dutifully takes the spot to the right.

As he slides into his seat and places an arm across the top of the booth behind Guinevere's head, he looks to Tristan with nothing but a deep longing, finding the same emotion reflected back at him. He swallows and turns away from him, afraid he might do something stupid if he continues looking at him in that moment.

"So, Isolde? What's all this exciting news you guys have to tell us?" Lance asks as he looks at her, an eyebrow raised as he takes a sip of his drink. He notices out of the corner of his eyes that Guinevere also turns to her as she leans into his side again. He forces himself not to shift away from her.

Isolde suddenly gives out a quiet squeal. "Okay! So," She looks at Tristan for a moment before turning back to them, Lance watching as the positions of the prince and princess mirror almost exactly Lance and Guinevere's. But he doesn't think much of it as Isolde continues talking. "Tristan and I have finally gotten a date for the wedding figured out!!" She exclaims happily, positively beaming. Guinevere gasps and shares in Isolde's excitement, the two women taking a moment to ramble together.

Tristan gives out a low chuckle and Lance turns to him again, something off about the sound that escaped him. The prince seems tense, his expression tight, and it becomes clear to the blonde that his chuckle wasn't born out of any kind of amusement, though it could easily appear that way to the two others in their party, as they were barely paying him any attention in this moment. Lance's brows furrow, a slight tilt of his head asking Tristan what his reaction was for. Yeah, so they figured out a date for the wedding already. Not ideal for Tristan, he was sure, but-

"Yes!" The fakest smile he had ever seen to date plasters itself across the prince's face. "August 28th." He states. "Of this year." And right there was the answer to Lance's question. Four months. Tristan and Isolde were getting married in four months. The public had only known them to be engaged for three.

"Ohhh, an end of summer wedding will be beautiful." Guinevere says in awe.

"Oh, won't it?" Isolde coos, her hands clasping in front of her.

"In just four months, huh? That's a lot sooner than I would've expected." Lance pipes up, his eyes not having left Tristan's at all yet.

"Yes, well, Isolde just couldn't wait any longer." Tristan states. "And apparently neither could my parents. August was supposed to be a completely unavailable month. But upon hearing that August was ideal over September or November, he completely canceled all matters of business for the month. That way we could have "the pick of the lot", he said." Tristan spat out, his words getting colder as he continued, and this time it didn't seem to be for a reason that he cared to hide.

Lance's suspicions were confirmed when Isolde spoke up next. "Oh, Tristan, cut your father some slack. I know you were excited for that trip, but your father just wants to help us in any way he can." She tells him, her voice on the verge of scolding. The tone made Lance almost scoff.

Tristan looked down at Isolde with a much softer expression than he had just a moment before and smiles at her. "You're right as always, I'm sorry. Forgive my thoughtlessness." And then the prince lays a soft kiss on the princess' lips, and the young nobleman has to look away quickly at the sight. Lance takes a long drink from his glass as he surveys the rest of the lounge outside of their booth, seeing it still empty as it was before. He's about to excuse himself for a moment, needing some air, when he's stopped from doing so.

"Isolde, do you mind if I talk to Lancelot privately for awhile? Most of the rest of your announcements have to do with the wedding more than anything else and Guinevere seems a lot more interested in those details than Lance does. Plus, I feel like I should finally get to know a bit more about the man. His father is practically my uncle and yet I feel I've barely spent any time with Lancelot himself." Tristan explains to his fiance, looking at her with casual questioning.

Isolde smiles at him, believing his explanation entirely. "Of course!" Suddenly she lights up even more. "Oh! Anne should be here soon, too! Guin, have you met Anne yet? You would absolutely love her!" Isolde gushes as she looks to the brunette.

Guinevere shakes her head. "Oh, I don't think so, but if she's a friend of yours, then I have no doubt that we'll get along." She states warmly. Isolde beams at her as Tristan exits the booth to let Isolde out and Lance follows his lead, letting Guinevere out. Isolde and Tristan share a peck on the lips and Lance turns to Guinevere to do the same, knowing she'll expect it.

"Take your time, don't rush, okay? I want you to have fun with your friends. We are here for that purpose, after all." Tristan points out to Isolde.

Isolde grins and throws her arms around him in a quick hug and for a moment, the smile on Tristan's face is back to being genuine, obvious affection on his face for the woman before him. Just not the kind that it's supposed to be. "Thank you. Have fun with your new friend, Trist." Isolde says before turning and looping her arm with Guinevere's, dragging her away as the brunette waves at Lance as she goes. Once the two of them have left the lounge and headed down the stairs to go meet up with Anne, Lance turns back to the booth, seeing Tristan already sitting once again. Lance sits back down as well, both of them choosing spots that allow them to be exactly across from each other.

They both stay silent for a few minutes, simply staring at each other, both seeming to be in quiet contemplation. Then Tristan breaks the silence first. "So, when are you and your fiancé going to make an announcement? The public doesn't even know that you two are engaged yet." He points out.

Ah, yes. His fiancé. Not by his own choice, of course. He doesn't have a single romantic notion towards her. In fact, he doesn't really have any platonic ones towards her, either. Guinevere is too arrogant for her own good and has way too big an ego, not to mention her whole I-know-everything attitude. It's all just a big turn off for him. But he's stuck with her. For now, at least. She's the person that his parents chose for him. Just like Isolde is the one that Tristan's parents chose for him. Some people have said recently that arranged marriages are way too old school and going out of style, but in reality, they're just as common now as they were 200 years ago.

"I'm not an actor like you, Prince Tristan." Lance tells him with a wry smile. "Guinevere is well aware that I'm not in love with her and she doesn't want to start up the wedding process until I do fall in love with her, because, apparently, she's absolutely certain that I will eventually."

Tristan tilts his head to the side slightly. "And how do you know that I'm acting with Isolde?" He asks, a hint of teasing in his tone.

Lance raises an eyebrow at him and he chuckles softly. "Considering you look at me in ways I've never once seen you even consider looking at her, I'd say you're more likely to be in love with me than with her."

Tristan's eyes widen as soon as the words leave his mouth and Lance's do, too, once his own words register in his mind. That right there was territory neither of had even dared go into before. There's never been any communication of feelings besides lust, passion, and curiosity. There couldn't be any romance between the two, could there? He was frozen, unsure how to recover from his own suggestion.

"Well. You certainly are observant, that's for sure." The silverette seems to have recovered faster than him, though his voice is much softer than it was before.

The topic switch definitely helps. Lance locks eyes with him, pouring every ounce of want he has for the man into his eyes without a single bit of shame or hesitation. "Yes, but you already know that, don't you?" Flashes run through his mind of all the times they've checked each other out or sent silent flirtations towards each other.

From the way Tristan bites his lip, he's thinking of the same thing. But instead of replying, he slides further into the booth, until he's in the middle of the half circle. He pats the spot right beside him. "Come over here." He orders.

Lance hesitates for a moment. Not because he doesn't want to be closer to Tristan. He knows that once he moves closer, it'll be the turning point of whatever this is between them. All of this is completely new. As he noticed before, he makes note of it again. Something is different about tonight. And he has a feeling he's about to find out exactly what it is. But he hangs back a little longer. It's like when a roller coaster reaches the top but then stops for just those extra few seconds, building up the anticipation so that you feel it just that tiniest bit more when the ride finally dips and takes the drop down. And it seems his decision was the right one.

When Lance doesn't immediately come over to him, Tristan bows his head down slightly, then looks back up at Lance through his lashes, an almost shy look on his face. "Please?" The single word comes out as half whisper, half purr and Lance suddenly feels the need to adjust himself. Fuck.

Lance slides across the booth until he's right beside the prince, only about an inch of space between their bodies. He's tense now. He doesn't know what to do with himself, where to put his hands. Eventually he decides to just place them on the table in front of him. He left his drink across the table, so he just lays his hands flat on the dark wood. Then Tristan places his hand on top of Lance's and he startles slightly, sucking in a deep breath at the contact. He can hear Tristan's breath hitch beside him and he knows that he must've felt it, too. The bolt of lightning that struck through to the very core of his being as soon as their skin connected. But Tristan continues despite it.

"Just take a second to relax, okay?" He says casually in a low voice. And then he starts moving his hand across Lance's wrist and over his arm slowly, causing Lance to do the opposite of relax. It felt like electricity was coursing throughout his entire arm, spreading out from where Tristan's hand was. He watches with wide eyes as the silverette's hand reaches the crook of his elbow and starts making it's way up.

"Relax, remember?" Is whispered into his ear as he feels the slight brush of hair against his cheek. He closes his eyes as his whole body shudders.

He tries his best to follow the instruction, urging his body to relax against the seat. Then Tristan changes the position of his hand slightly, pressing the tips of his nails against Lance's shirt and then lightly dragging them against the skin over his collarbone and Lance melts. His head falls back against the top of the cushion behind him and bites his lip as the other man's palm presses flat to the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, sliding up the side of his neck and over his collarbone, until his hand finally stops, resting gently against Lance's cheek. The electricity has followed his hands path, leaving a pleasant burn in it's wake, every part of him that's been touched feeling so warm.

He slowly opens his eyes as he sits back up, looking at Tristan. The prince has a look of pure awe on his face as he stares at him, as if something Lance just did has absolutely amazed him. Lance reaches up and threads his fingers into some of the hair at the top of the prince's head and runs them through it gently. Tristan's eyes flutter closed and he hums, a pleased sound. Once his fingers reach the tips of his long hair, he brings his hand back up and mimics what Tristan did, his hand curved around his cheek. When Tristan opens his eyes again, the blue and green in them is barely visible with how wide his pupils are blown.

"Lance." He whispers, his voice shaking slightly now. "I don't exactly know what it is going on between us. What all these feelings are and what they'll lead to. I know that I want you. I want you more than I've ever wanted anybody or anything in my entire life. But," He brings his free hand up to wrap around the wrist of the hand Lance has on his face, tracing small circles into his skin with his thumb. "I feel like it's something more than that. Like even if I finally have you, I won't be able to let you go." He admits, giving Lance that same shy look as before, but with a hint of fear in it this time. Fear of what, he wasn't sure.

Lance swallows before answering. "I think I know what you mean." Is all he whispers back. He has his own theories of what it all was, but he isn't sure he's ready to confront that just yet. Tristan runs his eyes over Lance's face a few times, like he's searching for something. Then they lock eyes once again and Lance suddenly realizes that it's not Tristan's voice that's shaky. Tristan himself is trembling. Before Lance can question him, he speaks up again.

"I don't know what it is," A fierce determination sparks in his eyes and Lance is both surprised and entranced by it. "But I want to." He says just barely above his breath. "I want to-" He cuts himself off, like he's afraid of what was about to come out of his mouth.

"What is it?" Lance asks him. "What do you want to do?" He brings his other hand up to cup Tristan's other cheek gently, looking at him pleadingly. Somewhere deep down, he knew exactly what the prince wanted, because he wanted it, too, but he needed to hear him say it first.

Tristan leans into his touch and lets out a sound close to a whimper. "I want to find out together. You and I. We could do it, you know. Because you were right. Of course you were. Isolde has never been anything more than a sister to me, a friend. I hate the idea of marrying her and everything that's meant to come with it. Tomorrow, I can break things off with her. Tell my parents that there's someone else. I don't care how mad they get at me. And then you and I, we can take this however far it goes, as long as you do the same. We can make our own choices for once instead of just always doing what everyone else wants us to." His own eyes are pleading now and the fear is even more evident. Lance realizes that the fear is of rejection. That his proposal will be brushed off and turned away from.

"And what would your choice be, Prince Tristan?" He asks, his own voice trembling.

"As of right now, my choice would be you, Sir Lancelot." Tristan says with certainty.

"What if I don't want that?" Lance asks him. Not because he's considering no. Not at all. Only because he's curious as to what the alternative is.

Tristan leans in slightly, taking his hand from Lance's wrist and reaching up to run a thumb down his temple and over his cheekbone before his hand lands on his jaw and stays there. "Then we won't continue this any further. I couldn't handle doing anything more if you don't want the same as me. But it's your choice. Kiss me right now and I'm yours. Walk away from me right now and we'll never be this close again, everything we've been doing will stop."

Lance looks at him. The answer was clear as soon as the idea left Tristan's pretty pink lips. Leave Guinevere and the stupid arranged marriage behind in order to pursue Tristan and see where the feelings between them go? It wasn't even a question. Lance gives him a grin. "Stupid of you to think that I could ever walk away from you." He tells him. And then Lance is crashing his lips against Tristan's.

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A/N: So, how is it so far??? Did you guys like it?? Cause I honestly loved writing this. I love these boys sm and this AU was really fun to come up with. You guys will get the rest tomorrow!!! Please, lemme know all your thoughts on this!!! I hope you enjoyed it!!!! Love y'all 💜💜💜

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