#in the first place that makes it just perplexing and threatening

[ghoulodont]

i feel like the popular image of paranoia is looking out a window peeking through the blinds like hmmm thats suspicious and while it certainly can look like that i feel like that doesnt really capture the thoughts or the mindset or the reasoning of it, to the point that it took me kind of a long time to recognize my own experience of paranoia. for me its like everyone is being very hostile to you and i just accept it as reality without question. the looking out the window seems very passive and observational whereas when im paranoid im actively defending myself. im fighting back and being confrontational and accusing people of trying to harm me. and its hard to even notice im doing it sometimes

[rindreamery]

to be loved is to be seen.

the little things that the blue lock men do for you as their way of saying, "i love you." featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, oliver aiku 𝜗𝜚 content: fluff

note. spreading down bad bllk men agenda 🫦 finals is this week, so that means i will not be able to write at all for 3-4 days, so i just wanted to pop this out rlly quickly (event fics will be written as soon as i wrap up this sem, PROMISE)

itoshi rin picks out the things you don't like in your food.

not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but rin has a folder in his notes app about you— things you like, things you dislike, and every little thing you’ve mentioned to him in passing. he wants to know every little detail about you, to write it down and memorize it until the knowledge becomes stuck in the back of his head. to the point that it becomes like common sense to him (if there were ever a pop quiz on facts about you, he would pass with flying colors.) at the end of every date, or every time he hangs out with you, he’ll update his notes with another little thing he’d learned. you will never catch him admitting it out loud, but it definitely shows in how he treats you.

there is one thing he’d memorized about you, by now, though. it’s written in bold, italicized, and underlined in his notes: you hate mushrooms. 

rin catches himself looking at the ingredients of certain meals whenever the two of you would eat at a new restaurant, or order food from an unfamiliar place. it’s not that he’s necessarily a picky eater because, frankly, he really doesn’t care. but he wants you to enjoy it, he wants you to be able to eat without stressing about having to pick it out. his eyes are always scanning through the print, actively checking if mushrooms are one of the ingredients listed. 

but, there are times when the ingredients aren’t listed, and there are times when you end up ordering something with mushrooms in it. 

he may be dense in certain aspects, but it’s hard for him to miss the disappointed look on your face. the way your expression falls ever so slightly, and your smile falters for half a second. before you could dig in, before you could even put yourself through five minutes of digging through the food— he’s swiftly grabbing it from you. 

truthfully, he does it without thinking. he’s acting on his thoughts before he could even process what he’s doing. rin tries to fight the blush that threatens to form on his cheeks, the way the heat crawls up his neck and to his face at the realization of what he’d done, and he fails. but he’s committed to the act now, and he’s not going to give it back to you until he’s done what he needed to do.

he tries to ignore the somewhat perplexed look on your face, and the way you watch him closely as his fingers make quick work of moving the mushrooms from your plate to his. (he tries to sneak in some of your favorite food from his plate to yours, but he’s not slick, and you definitely notice.)

“here,” he says, pushing the plate closer to you after a few minutes. “you can eat it now.”

he sees you glance at the plate, and then back up at him— he looks away as you beam at him with a grateful smile, trying to ignore his ever-increasing heart rate. 

itoshi sae remembers the small details about your routine.

it is almost guaranteed that sae will wake up before you do. his alarm is set to go off at the crack of dawn, right as the sun starts to peek through the horizon, and he's starting his day while you're still in deep sleep. there’s a set routine that he follows, to a tee: wake up (and then contemplate staying in bed, just to cuddle with you a little longer), stretch, do morning yoga, and then go on a jog. it’s something he’d been doing for years, and he has never gone out of his way to add anything new to his routine— that is, until one morning. 

at first, it started with a random thought. as he was getting ready to leave the house, to go for his morning jog, he had unsystematically decided to set out your favorite mug and go-to morning snack. 

sae didn’t think it would be that significant to you, and he, initially, had no plans of doing it again. he simply had extra time to spare, and he knew that making your morning drink was always the first part to your routine, so he decided to get the first step out of the way for you.

truly, he wasn’t planning to make a habit out of this. but then, you told him, “that was a sweet way to start off my morning,” with that sleepy, morning smile of yours. he tries to not pay attention to the way his heart softens at the sight, and the realization that that had made him happy. yet now, he does it every time.

from then on, his alarm was always set to go off two minutes earlier. it’s rewarding, in his opinion, to come home to you— sitting at the dining table, messy hair and still in your pajamas, eyes half-lidded from sleep, with a smile on your face as you take a sip from the mug. and then you greet him with a thank you and a kiss, without fail, even when he tries to lightly guide you away because he’s sweaty.

it never works, because he folds the second you tell him, “g’morning. i missed you.” and he finds himself adding another part to his schedule. 

before sae’s even aware of it, much of his daily habits had been molded to fit with yours. 

on days where he’s far from home, in another country, he finds that his morning just never feels right without you. it feels weird not having to set out your favorite mug, and it feels even weirder not having you there to smother him in kisses. his routine had always determined his mood, and without you, he’s extra sour. 

“i miss you,” he ends up texting you. (that, too, becomes part of his routine when he’s far from you.)

michael kaiser has all your subtle behaviors memorized.

if kaiser were to be asked to name one annoying habit of yours, it would be the fact that you, sometimes, say things that contradict how you truly feel. he calls you pesky, he tells you that he’ll take your word for it and not read too deeply into whatever you’re saying— but, in a way, he’s contradicting himself too by saying that. he’ll always read into it; he’ll always analyze you, gaze narrowed, and watching for every subtle sign in your body language. he knows you, all too well. 

but there’s one thing you always say, one contradictory statement that you always make, that he’d memorized at this point. “it’s okay, i’m not cold,” even when you visibly are.

it irks him to no end. he doesn’t understand why you would say that even when there are goosebumps scattered all over your skin, when you have your arms wrapped around yourself, and you’re visibly trembling. he can practically see the bones under your skin, rattling, making some comical, cartoony noise in his head. you know that he can see you, and yet, you still lie to him.

and, at times, he does this on purpose— he puts the air conditioning in the car on full blast, all vents pointed at you, just to see how far you’re willing to go. and every time, it’s always the same, with the same answer.

kaiser isn’t completely cruel, however. he’s tucked one of his spare hoodies (your favorite, actually) into the backseat, existing purely for your use. first, he’ll scoff at you, roll his eyes, and let you suffer for a few more minutes. but eventually, the guilt will catch up to him, and he’ll constantly be glancing at you through his periphery, shaking and looking absolutely miserable in your seat.

he’ll think to himself for a second, as if contemplating whether he’ll actually help you out (he always does, he does not want you to actually suffer). and then, he’ll internally sigh, before speaking up. “stupid,” he mutters under his breath. “i have a spare hoodie in the back, take it.”

it’s almost laughable, the way you quickly turn your body around to reach for the backseat, visibly seeking warmth. he sees the look of pure joy in your eyes when you realize that it’s your favorite, and he smiles to himself.

“you’re the best,” you always tell him, as you pull the fabric over your head, and he's content. 

he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t reprimand you— he lets you do this, every single time.

oliver aiku is always willing to listen to you ramble.

it doesn’t matter if aiku’s had an exceptionally long day, it doesn’t matter if he feels as if he’s on the verge of succumbing to sleep— he will always make time for you. he will never pass up a chance to call you, to listen to you talk about whatever you want, whenever you want. you could talk for hours, going on and on about something that he doesn’t quite understand, and not a single complaint will slip past his lips. then again, he thinks to himself, why would he complain? hearing your voice is the best part of any day, good or bad. and every night, he finds himself waiting by his phone, waiting for your contact to appear on his screen.

he finds no shame at the speed in which he accepts your call, which is immediately, nor does he try to mask the anticipation in his voice.

and if he were to look into a mirror at that exact moment, he would also see the lovesick smile that had started to tug on the corners of his lips. you can’t see him, but he’s sure you can hear it in his voice. the way it softens, the way it loses its rough edges and lightens up ever so slightly, when he greets you. you probably know he’s grinning from ear-to-ear. (he doesn’t think he is, but when it comes to you, he’s completely transparent.)

it doesn’t take long before you’re divulging into another one of your endless tangents. but aiku’s attention remains undivided, only for you. he sits on the other side of the phone, silently, only responding when you want him to. it doesn’t matter if his own thoughts are clouded with exhaustion, his mind racing with the weight of the day—when you call, everything else fades into nothingness.

“did you know that venus is an evening star for 263 days out of the year?” he can hear the excitement in your voice, he can practically see the sparkle in your eyes, even without seeing you. it’s been three hours, and he’s sure that he should’ve been in bed one hour ago. but you’re still as energetic as ever, so he fights the way his body craves for sleep. he locks his jaw, and bites back a yawn, and listens. “and then, the fact that it disappears from the sky for 50 days, before returning as a morning star?”

there’s silence on your end, and aiku takes that as his cue to talk. “no,” he responds, and there’s an amused lilt in his tone. “i didn’t, actually. you should tell me more.” and you do. 

one look at the clock to his side tells him that, at this point, he won’t be getting enough sleep. he’s sure he’s going to be exhausted when he wakes up in the morning— though, he doesn’t really care, and he’s sure he won’t regret it. he’ll let you ramble about the stars for as long as you want, even when the stars themselves start to fade into the morning sky. 

© rindreamery, 2024

[cowboybeepboop]

Release

"Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.."

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Your friendly coworker Clark takes care of your needs. 

a/n: As always I hope you enjoy and send any requests you might have my way!

Clark is your annoyingly perfect coworker, you know the type: always on time, always right, never makes a single mistake, and never has a hair out of place, let alone a stained shirt.

Your irritation grows as you rub the coffee stain from your white button-down, thoughts filled with the idea that you’ll find him at his desk, right next to yours looking as *perfect* as ever. 

It's been one thing after the next, first, you saw your long-time boyfriend cheating on you in YOUR apartment with your best friend, then some dumbass hit your car completely totaling it which leaves you taking the subway every morning attempting to be on time yet you always seem to arrive just five minutes late, and now your stupid shirt. Your favorite shirt. 

It’s silly to think you’re fighting back tears over a $15 button-down when you didn’t even react to seeing the two most important people in your life raw dogging it on your sheets. Taking deep breaths you adjust your hair, flattening it down, and blinking away the tears that threaten to spill. At least you’re slightly on time, even if it meant leaving home 30 minutes before you'd usually even wake up.

Finally, you give up on the stain coming to terms with the fact that a slight brown tinge is better than being late *again*. You slip into your chair with a quiet huff, pinching the bridge of your nose as you gaze at the clock on the wall. Glancing to your side you see Clark, he's 15 minutes early, smelling like heaven, he looks sleek as always, without a single hair out of place. 

Clark catches you looking at him as you huff and puff next to him, he tries not to chuckle at the frown on your face before he turns to you, friendly and unassuming as usual, completely oblivious to any issues you may have. He smiles his signature warm and charming smile.

"Good morning, you're here on time today, finally," he teases, his tone light and innocent, not realizing his words sound like a veiled jab when they fall from his lips.

You turn to him, eyes narrowed in an intense glare. "Mind your own business, Kent." You grumble, your usual (fake) friendliness gone like your ex-boyfriend. Focusing on the computer in front of you, you log on, scrolling through the endless emails.

Clark blinks awkwardly at your response, surprised by the harshness in your voice. He’s not quite used to you snapping at him, sure you have your moments but you’re rarely outright hostile.

He sits back, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck, slightly perplexed about how to respond.

Clark hesitates for a moment, debating whether to address your change in tone. Clearing his throat, he tries to keep his tone lighthearted. "Um…is everything okay? You seem a bit, uh…”

He trails off, realizing that nothing he says will help his case and that you may actually bite his head off if he continues. So he shifts slightly in his chair instead, averting his eyes from yours as he pretends to focus on something on his computer.

"Look, Clark." You sigh, turning to him once again, tone much softer this time, "I don't need your pity, there's no need to pretend like you care." you slip out of your chair, heading to the break room to grab another coffee. 

Clark raises an eyebrow at your words, his lips curving into a slight frown as he watches you go. He waits a few moments before silently following you, his steps almost soundless as he approaches you at the coffee machine.

He stands behind you, his presence quiet and calm, as he studies your expression before speaking.

"Who said anything about pretending?" He asks, his voice low and earnest.

You're standing on your tippy toes, attempting to reach the coffee on the top shelf of the cabinet. "Why would you care about me and my problems? We're *just* coworkers." 

Clark swallows, feeling a pang of disappointment in his chest at your dismissive words. He leans against the counter beside you, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he contemplates how to respond.

"Just coworkers..." he mutters softly before sighing quietly, "Right."

He watches you struggle to reach the coffee for a moment, his hands twitching in his pockets as he resists the urge to reach out and grab it for you.

Clark can't tear his eyes away from the way your body stretches and extends with every effort to reach the coffee, the muscles in your thighs and backside taut and prominent as you stand on your tippy toes. It's an unconscious and innocent action, but it's affecting him more than he'd like to admit...

He clears his throat again, shifting his weight and trying to control the thoughts that begin to flood his mind. But as he watches you struggle once more, his restraint is slowly but surely beginning to fray.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, finally managing to grasp the coffee grounds. "I didn't mean it like that Clark." once back on flat feet, you look at him with a gentle expression. 

The tension drains from Clark's shoulders as he hears your apology, his gaze softening as he looks down at you. He manages a small smile, the corners of his lips tugging upwards slightly. 

"It's okay," he replies quietly. "I understand. You've clearly got a lot on your plate."

He can't help the way his eyes wander over your figure again, lingering on the way your body moves and molds with each movement. The words "I care" hang on his tongue, but he swallows them back down.

Once the machine starts brewing you lean against the counter, crossing your arms under your breasts as you let out a small strangled sigh. "I didn't mean to snap at you either. I've just got a lot going on.." 

Clark's eyes track your movement, watching as you rest against the counter. His eyes seem to linger on the way your arms press against your chest before he manages to force his gaze back up to your face, his cheeks flushing from the heat that spreads through him.

"It's okay," he says again, offering a reassuring smile. "You don't have to explain yourself. I..I get it."

He hesitates for a moment, mulling over his next question before finally swallowing and asking, "Anything I can help with?"

"Not unless you're willing to beat up my ex-boyfriend for me," you chuckle dryly, eyes focused on the empty office. Being the two newest employees you're stuck with the early early morning shift. 

Clark lets out a small, surprised laugh, the sound rich and warm. He leans back against the counter, mirroring your position as he grins at you. 

"Tempting," he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "But I think I'd rather help in more...legal ways."

You smile, finding his presence comforting and relaxing, finally putting your restless mind at ease. Your bare thigh brushes over his as you turn to grab a mug, the fabric of your skirt lifting up ever so slightly. "Well, I'll let you know if I can think of anything you can help me with." 

The contact sends a jolt of electricity through Clark's veins, his breath catching in his throat as he feels your skin brush against his. He attempts to keep his reaction discreet, but the way his eyes widen slightly betrays his composure.

He swallows, his mind racing as his gaze drifts down to the exposed flesh of your thigh, the smooth skin on display making his thoughts whirl and pulse. 

"Yes... Please, let me know," he manages to mutter, his voice thick with an undertone he hadn't intended.

"Want some?" you hold out the mug to him, noticing the way his gaze is trained on your legs, a slight flush creeping up your neck. 

Clark is snapped out of his reverie as you hold the mug out to him, his eyes flicking up to yours for a moment before darting down to the mug in your hand again.

He clears his throat and reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the mug. The contact sends another spark of electricity through his body, his cheeks flushing slightly as he quickly averts his eyes.

"Uh...yes, thank you," he stutters, trying to disguise the nerves in his voice.

You notice his strange demeanor, eyebrows furrowing as you fill your cup. "Now it's my turn to ask if everything is alright," keeping your tone playful, you gaze up at him softly. 

Clark swallows again, his heart thudding against his chest. He shifts awkwardly on his feet as you question him, his mind racing to find a believable excuse, but failing miserably.

The way you look up at him with such soft, concerned eyes is making it even harder to maintain his composure.

"Uh...yeah, I'm fine," he stammers, forcing a smile. "Just...uh...just a bit tired, that's all."

"And here I thought you were always on the top of your game." you tease softly, reaching to put the coffee back up, sneakily adjusting your skirt so it reveals more of your body. 

Clark watches you strain to reach the high shelf, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realizes he should have helped you get it down in the first place. He steps closer, his body now mere inches away from yours, his chest almost touching your back.

He reaches up and grabs the coffee, his arm brushing against yours in the process. The proximity is enough to send another shiver down his spine. He places the coffee back on the shelf before turning to you, his voice softer this time. "Next time, just ask for my help."

"Clark.." you breathe out his name, shocked by the electricity his touch fills you with. "I, uh, could've put it back myself you know."

Clark freezes, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of his name slipping from your lips. He could swear he was imagining the way you breathed his name, the way it sounded almost like...like a gasp.

He lets out a small huff, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I know," he says quietly, his eyes fixed on yours. "But I wanted to help."

"Mhm..." you murmur, gaze trained on his muscular body as heat rises in your cheeks. Your heart pounds in your chest, something about the way he touched you makes you heated. 

Clark's chest tightens as he registers the way your eyes rake over his frame, his skin burning in the wake of your gaze as you take him in. He swallows, the sound seeming louder than normal to his heightened senses.

The subtle shift in your breathing, the hint of flustered color adorning your cheeks, the heat radiating from your body... all of it feeds into the growing tension between you two.

"Clark," you step closer to him, gathering all the confidence you can. "There is *something* you could do to help me..." 

Clark's heart thuds harder, the closeness of your body almost intoxicating as he feels heat begin to pool in his gut. He inhales sharply, the scent of you clouding his senses as he struggles to focus on your words.

His voice is low and gruff when he responds, barely a whisper, "Anything."

"I want.." you take a steadying breath, "I want you." you press your fingers into his side, pulling his body closer to yours.

Clark's breath hitches as he feels your fingers press into his side, a shudder coursing through him as you pull his body against yours. He lets out a soft, involuntary moan as he feels the heat of your body against his, every nerve in his body on fire with need.

He looks down at you, his eyes wide and dilated, the last few remnants of restraint finally giving in. "Christ..." he mutters under his breath.

"There’s no one here right now," You bite on your bottom lip, knee sliding between his legs as you press against his groin. 

Clark lets out a hiss, his breath hitching once more as he feels the heat and friction of your body press against his. The unexpected sensation of your knee between his legs sends a jolt of pleasure through him, his hips involuntarily bucking against you as he fights to keep control. 

His voice is a low, ragged growl as he responds, "You're not playing fair.."

"I'm not.." you murmur, fingers moving to unbutton his slacks, "I never play fair," 

Clark's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your fingers on his slacks, his body frozen as he watches you undo them, freeing his erection from the confines of his clothes. The feel of your touch, the implication behind your actions, is driving him crazy. 

He lets out a strangled moan, his breath ragged and irregular. "This...this isn't...we shouldn't be doing this here," he stammers, his voice lacking conviction as his eyes remain fixed on your hands.

"Exactly... That's what makes it so," you press a kiss to his jaw, "exhilarating" 

The feeling of your lips against his jaw is enough to send Clark over the edge, any shred of restraint he had left evaporating into thin air. 

He lets out a breathless growl, the sound thick and heavy with desire, as his hands reach out to grip your hips. His grasp is firm, the strength in his hands evident as he pulls you even closer to him, his body flush against yours. 

"You...you're killing me.." he groans, the heat pooling in his stomach almost unbearable.

Clark's mind is reeling, the sensation of your smooth skin under his touch driving him crazy as he lifts you onto the counter, his movements surprisingly precise and controlled despite the whirlwind of desire coursing through him. 

As he pushes your skirt up, revealing your bare thighs, he lets out a low, guttural sound, his eyes fixed on the sight of your body in front of him. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this..." he murmurs huskily, his voice strained with desperate need.

“Clark, please… I need you,” you whine, body aching with months of unfulfilled desire. Your ex never quite knew how to use those 4 inches. 

Clark's breath hitches, his heart thudding in his chest as he hears the pleading tone in your voice, the sound nearly breaking him in an instant. It's doing something to him, to his ego and his emotions.

He leans in, his lips against your ear as he whispers, "Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.." he spreads your legs, pulling you to the edge of the counter, pressing his tip against your aching cunt. 

Your face contorts in pleasure, the gentleness of his touch, the desire behind his eyes, and the idea of being caught, all of it is working to make you ache even more.

He slowly slides into you, moaning as your pussy stretches around his thickness. Clark keeps his thrusts slow, gently working his way deeper inside you, and your nails immediately dig into his shoulders. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you’re intoxicated by his touch, “mm so big.” you moan needily, hole clenching around him. He groans, large hands moving across your frame as he finally bottoms out, his tip hitting the pleasure point in you. 

“Is this okay?” He cups your face, pressing soft kisses to your lips as he gives you time to adjust. 

Clark’s question hangs in the air as you both pant and tremble from the intensity of the moment. You nod fervently, your eyes never leaving him, the silent communication speaking volumes of your need. He takes that as his cue, his gentle touch turning to one of urgency as he begins to move within you. 

His strokes are deep and deliberate, each one hitting that spot that has you clinging to him tighter, your moans growing louder with every passing second. The office around you fades away as you become lost in the sensation, your mind racing with the illicit thrill of doing something so taboo with your coworker. 

His kisses become more passionate, his tongue claiming your mouth as he picks up the pace, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing in the quiet space. The tension between you two has been building for months, a dance of wills and glances, and now it’s all culminating in this desperate, passionate embrace. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his firm ass, urging him deeper with every thrust. The break room becomes a cocoon of passion, the only sounds are your muffled cries of pleasure and his grunts of effort. 

The friction between you builds a delicious pressure that demands release. You can feel him swell within you, his need matching yours. Your breaths become gasps, and your eyes widen as the first waves of orgasm crash through your body, tightening around him. "Clark...I'm gonna..." you manage to breathe, your voice shaking.

Clark's eyes darken with desire as he feels your orgasm approaching, his own need reaching its peak. He increases his rhythm, driving into you with a passion that surprises even him. "Cum for me," he whispers, his voice thick with need. 

The sound of your impending climax is his undoing, and he lets out a guttural groan as he joins you, his hips bucking against yours as he fills you with his release. 

The aftermath is a haze of heavy breathing and racing hearts, the realization of what you've just done slowly sinking in. You cling to him, your bodies still connected as the tremors of pleasure subside. 

Clark's heart is still racing, his body shaking from the intensity of the moment, as he gazes at you, his fingers tracing gently across your face. He's silent, his breath ragged and labored, as he absorbs the enormity of what just happened. 

The silence between you is thick and heavy, filled with the weight of what you both just did. Clark's eyes flicker between yours, a mixture of concern and wonder in his expression. Finally, he speaks, his voice rough and low. "Are you..are you okay?"

"More than okay," you murmur, dazed and utterly satisfied. "You're so good, Clark." you slide off the counter, standing on shakey legs.

Clark helps you steady yourself, his strong arms wrapped around your waist to support you as you make your way to the bathroom. He can't help but chuckle softly at your unsteady legs, a mixture of pride and amusement filling him. 

Once you're both freshened up and presentable, he walks you back to your desks, his hand resting gently on the small of your back the entire way. 

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks, his voice now smug, his eyes searching your face.

"Much, much better." you grin satisfied by his disheveled appearance. The perfect Clark Kent is barely able to concentrate on his work, his hair is slightly frizzy and out of place, and his shirt is wrinkled, all of it makes your stomach pool with warmth once more.

Clark can't help but chuckle at your satisfied grin, his cheeks flaring with a hint of blush as he realizes the state he's in. He reaches up to straighten his hair, only making it more tousled in the process. 

He catches sight of his wrinkled shirt and wrinkled and he lets out a low sigh, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. "I look like a complete mess, don't I?" he says, a sheepish grin on his lips.

"A perfect mess," your tone is light, eyes full of admiration.

[ooogaboogabeepbop]

The Ball

(Image is NOT mine, it’s from Kate Kotova’s YouTube Community.)

Astarion x F!reader

Word count: A LOOOTTT

First time writing so please give any constructive criticism. Tell me if Astarion is out of character or whatnot. Here I wanted him to be pretty frustrated so he’s rougher than usual. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.

Summary: You were getting ready for a ball until Astarion randomly fucks you into oblivion.

Warnings: use of gross words, cervix fucking, VERY rough sex, extreme discomfort, neediness, blood, ruined makeup, anger, cnc, pain, tears, ripping of clothing, weird inconsistent pov, scent, breeding kink, cringe writing, past trauma, voyerism, harsh choking, lots of eye rolling, short sentences, regret

——————-

The edge of the drawer dug into your ribs harshly and the pain was becoming intolerable. Your palms flat against the waxed wood, pushing against the weight behind you. You winced when the figure behind pressed harder into you, being far from comfortable. It was like talking to a brick wall when you opened your mouth to speak. He was stuck in a deep trance involving your scent, and the unsteady beating of your heart. All he could hear was the hammering of the pulse and you smelled and looked absolutely amazing. Beyond amazing. Astounding. The way your dress fitted you perfectly. Breasts threaten to burst out of the dress, almost overflowing from the top. Your cleavage being the most prominent part of your whole get up, other than the accessories. The dress was white with laces on the rim surrounding your breasts, and on the end of your clothing as well. The outfit shimmered and was made to stand out from the others in the ball. The jewelry was what really stole the show though, dangle earrings, waist chain over the fancy fabric, bracelet, and a pearled necklace. You were adorned head to toe, your beauty would stun the crowd. Yet Astarion has you here, secured in his grip. It’s like he didn’t want anyone to see you in such a glamorous outfit. Someone could steal you away. It has been a while since Astarion initiated such intimate touching. With his view on sex tainted, you withheld from being inappropriate in any way. Worried about scaring him away, or reminding him of anything unpleasant. You stuck to loving words and affections that he so eagerly accepted and appreciated. The man was madly in love, and you, yourself. You showered him in so much care that it perplexed him. He only imagined or dreamed of being looked out for during years of hell, and never thought that it would actually come to fruition.

His nose and lips firmly pressed against your neck, providing soft kisses here and there. Cold breath sends shivers through your body. It was like a chilly winter breeze, making your hair stand. The kisses were sloppy, leaving small trails of saliva up and down your throat. You had an expensive perfume on, a bitter flavor to the tongue that he did not seem to mind. Too engrossed in this moment to care, wanting to feel and taste more. Maybe he liked the combination of the perfume and the flavor of your skin. Grabbing the arm that was locked around your waist, you squeeze, giving him a small warning to stop. The ball had already started, he promised to take you out dancing and flaunt your beauty to everyone there and show that you were his. It appears he regretted this decision. You were excited to sway and spin, to be close to him and your companions. You longed to see the others and the others wanted to see you too. You wanted to see the lights and the decorations. To see just how fancy the place was.

“I want to greet everyone.” You say, with his arms still locked around you. You tried excusing yourself to not remind him of ugly recollections. Trying not to have him cringe in disgust at any possible moment. Even with all of his confessions, he still held 200 years of secrets and uncomfortable experience that he was not willing to share. His coldness migrated behind your ear, hearing his sharp inhale. Very touchy this evening. What has him so worked up? Was he okay?

“They will see you soon enough, my love. Be patient.” He assured whilst rubbing his face against you, groaning, trying to lock in all of your musk mixed with perfume. He was ravenous. Mouth agape. A strong hand traced your left arm all the way up to your shoulder, and flipped the few wisps of your hair to the other side. Kisses now traced your jaw. Lips dry and chapped, moisture gone from the smooches. You could see the white curls come into view. Body flush against yours like a mold. Pale hands gripping your waist harshly and angling them to have the curve of your ass on his groin. “You look like an absolute treat tonight.” You could feel how each roughened finger dug deep to the point of almost hurting. Oh how you loved this. You missed his touch. Whether it be soft or hard, you still managed to enjoy yourself. Every movement made warmth course through you. Unexpectedly, he pricked your skin with one singular fang and licked the sweet red bead that came out with a sigh. Driving him crazy. Cool tongue teasing the sharp pain.

You grabbed the curls and ripped his lips off you.

“How about you be patient?” Your grip was firm, hurting his sensitive scalp. He hissed and even dared to flashed his fangs at you.

“You are hurting me.” You say bitterly. He presses less of his weight against you, letting you finally breathe better. But still being sandwiched between him and the drawer caused a sting.

“Still hurting me…”

He reluctantly pulls back, not much, but enough to keep the edge of the drawer from biting at your skin.

“I am starving—“ Words nothing but a whisper.

“I can tell.”

“Well be a dear, and give me just one bite?” He asked with honeyed words and puppy eyes.

“It’s never just one bite with you, Star.”

His hands roamed your body through your white dress, pawing at your breast, then down in between your thighs. The dress being an annoying obstacle.

“Oh how I missed you.” He sighs. You giggle at his words while you twirl a strand in your finger. It has not been long at all. He was quite literally in the other room while you did your makeup. And before that, both of you organized and planned your outfits for the day of the party together. You look over your shoulder with a smirk and a raised brow.

“Star, I was simply getting ready for the ball. I won’t take much longer.” You take a glimpse at his attire. All white, matching yours. The turtle neck, the colors, the swirls and patterns of his suit were all beautiful. Just like him. The shoulder pads that pronounced his shoulders. And his broad chest. You wanted to run your hands up and down his muscular figure but he firmly held you locked in place. He leaned into you again, though not as hard as before, your back arching to accommodate his body. Grinding on your bum. Noticing just how steel hard he was, your knees shook and your heels almost gave out.

“One bite? It won’t take long, love.” The man was hungry despite being fed the day before.

“Yes.” He immediately dives in and pierces your jugular. Fangs cause a sharp sting that makes you flinch. He will feed, then the two of you can finally go to the ball. Not wanting to suck you dry, he took shallow gulps. A moan rumbled from his chest and it vibrated through you. Astarion looked so hot with his composure uncharacteristically broken. The blood dribbling from the puncture being the sweetest he's ever savored. It was like some form of drug. Astarion’s favorite medicine. Faint whines of his satisfaction adding to the wetness below. You could see his brows knit together in concentration from the corner of your eye. Savoring you. He continued to rub your cunt through your dress while your hips circled to increase the pace that was set. He was too distracted to notice the teasingly slow speed of his fingers. Or maybe not. Perhaps he was deliberately trying to drive you insane. The friction of your panties and dress mixed with his talented digits made your clit throb. Your hand pushed his down, trying to create more traction to satisfy your need. Your hips still managed to gyrate even under his hold, rubbing right up on his erection. You moved faster against him, earning a whine from your vampire's throat. The hard rod pressed to your bum had you yearning for more. He kept moaning. Large pale hands traveled up to the very start of your dress and roughly pulled down, ripping the clothing and bra with it. The initial sound of the rippage filling the room with its sheer force. You shrieked as your tits suddenly jumped out of its confinements. Bouncing from its vicious release. Soft and supple skin, round and pretty nipples. Your outfit is in complete tatters.

“Astarion!” You shouted. Visibly upset. Such a beautiful dress put to waste. You waited months for this dress to be tailored, for its patterns and shimmers to be suited into it. So happy to try it on, so happy the way it hugged your curves when you got your hands on it. You attempted to turn to scold the ever living shit out of him but he held you in place with his strength. “Ugh!” You leered down at the irreversible mess and felt your face grow hot with rage. Then you looked into the mirror at the sight. Your nipples out in the open. How you wished to see him behind you, to see the dark and lustful red eyes looking deep into yours. What's gotten him so wild? Shifting his gaze towards your tits through the mirror, he moaned at the view of you. Quickly moving his palms onto your plump flesh; his big hands dwarfing both mounds. Astarion squeezed and played to his heart's desire and all you did was watch. Pliant skin caving and yielding. You were angry, livid, exasperated but… when was the last time he’s sought you out to touch you so sensually? When was the last time he felt okay with pleasure? You would put your anger aside, albeit begrudgingly, for this rare occasion. You were gonna give him hell afterwards though. Have him pay for the dress AGAIN and some complaining. It felt amazing, having him play, grope, and gently dig his fingers in. Savoring you. Passionately massaging them. You were upset. So upset. But you loved the touch. He was disorganized and chaotic which was so uncommon of him. Eventually, once you’ve calmed, your hands combine with his large ones, joining in on the fun. Then you realized something. The door to the room was open. Your head swirled to its direction and you were able to hear the distant chatter. Terror took a hold of you.

“Star. Stop. They will see.” Your concerns meant nothing to him though even when you pushed. He was too lost in you to even care. A huff was his only response. His fangs soon left you and he raised his head to nip at your ear. The blood from the wound seeped into your pearled necklace.

“I am being serious.” He grabbed your face, the skin indenting in his strong grip, and turned it enough to give you a searing kiss. The smooch was slippery from the gloss and the lipstick stained him, mixing with the blood he took from you. You sighed at the way his lips pressed upon yours. He parted his lips and snaked his tongue in your mouth, drawing an obscene moan as you unhinged your jaw for him. The blend of lipstick, gloss, blood, and the perfume he kissed off was rather tart. You opened your eyes and looked into the mirror. You looked so lewd. Both of you panted into the kiss. His left hand still played with your breast. His right hand grabbed yours and placed it flat against the wood, fingers interlocking. Astarion abandoned your mouth and licked long strides up your neck, cleaning the remaining blood then proceeded to give more pecks to it.

“What is this all about, Star?”

“I simply crave you little love. Is that so bad?”

“You ruined my dress. It was so glamorous…I waited months for this you damned bastard.”

“I’ll have another one made, my treasure.” He did not seem phased by your anger. The glam clothing was being pulled and balled up, enough to show your plush thighs. Wearing stockings and lingerie underneath. You half expected to fuck, just not so early.

“My, my. What’s this all about, dear?” He repeated your question from earlier as nimble fingers ran along the stockings. You blushed deeply at his words. Hands fixed on your butt. Delicately rubbing.

“Astarion, the door. Least close the door.” He pushed your face against the drawer, and raised the rest of your dress, showing your pretty ass. The fabric laid right above your hips. He slapped it hard. Another one came after that with full force. The sting was so intense tears began to form. No, you were not going to cry with how much effort you put into your makeup. He grumbled at your request.

“Not a chance. Where else will I get my warmth from? Karlach? Lae’zel?” He tsked. Red marks adorned your bum now from the manhandling. Blood rushing and heating the stinging flesh.

The warmth radiating onto his icy palms pleased him as it made a nice contrast. “You know, It gets quite cold being undead, darling.” Pouting as he feigned sadness.

“I will still be here once you come back. It's just mere feets away! Plus I'm sure Karlach wouldn't mind sharing her never ending heat.”

“Ah, but that would be no fun. Truthfully, the possible thrill of being caught excites me to no end…and I believe it does the very same to you too, darling.” He said, slipping the panties to the side to expose you. “I can tell just by your heartbeat.” He murmured. You purred when his rough thumb slithered up and down your wet slit. You sway your waist to taunt his desire. Without warning, he soon rooted two digits deep inside to prepare you to fuck hard. The sudden intrusion caused you to bite your lip. He grazed and memorized each ridge of your soggy cunt, especially the spongy part. You grinded in tandem to his fingers but it wasn’t enough.

“Then please, hurry up.” you whimper. He hummed.

“Since you asked nicely.” He caressed the bud halfheartedly. Swiftly he lost interest then pulled his fingers out. You could hear the belt buckle and his pants unfasten.

He slid all the way into your gummy walls with a loud hiss. You felt incredibly full, so stretched out and already worn from his dick. Cunt squeezing and contracting, trying to adjust to the fullness. You were so overwhelmed that it made you dizzy. Your pussy ravenously swallowed his thick dick which was not helping with your lightheadedness. The tip of his cock snuggling your cervix, causing your knees to weaken.Good thing he was holding you up. There was an impossibly deep, deep want inside your walls that set you ablaze. The feeling so intense your legs wobbled more. The desire was gut wrenching, so powerful and desperately needed his cock. He was fully sheathed but it was not enough. You needed him to move, drag and stroke himself along slick walls. Your clit throbbed. Placing your fingers onto the bundle of nerves you spun quick circles that briefly had your eyes roll. You couldn’t wait anymore and began to throw yourself back on him, forcing a garbled moan out of him. Both of you needed to get this over with fast. Cursing yourself for falling into your own desires as easily as he did. All he had to do was close the door but no. He loves risks and this situation made his dick painfully hard for him. What is pleasure without a little pain? You imagined him saying. He observed you like a hawk, watching you fuck yourself. Hearing him gulp then heave faster. His mouth was open, curls misplaced (from his usual hairdo), and brows knitted together again… A deafening laughter came from the halls when you began to panic. You stopped to peer at the cracked open door. He tightly grabbed onto your waist and pressed his thumbs into your back dimples, treating them as thumb holders. The first thrust was hard. You were caught off guard when your body lunged forward, causing objects to fall from the desk you leaned on. The laughing paused. Then the next one was even harder. He barely even started and tears began to sting in your eyes. His hair now falling towards his face, ruining his perfect pomade. Each movement he made, his locks swiftly followed. You felt the way his cock hauled to and fro. He knew how tight and warm you were but it always left him in shambles. Your walls clenched, subduing his bulging veins, and molding his dick on each thrust. He wanted to cum. He wanted to be deeper. He wanted to be one with you. Anxiety was through the roof but, thankfully, the people accompanying the halls continued with their conversation. All your attention was on the door where all the sounds originated from. The pace changed as you tried to listen for any footsteps.

Then all of a sudden he trembled and went stiff. He placed his chest against you for leverage. Lowering his head, listening how each breath was a struggle for him. You could see his wet curls in your peripheral vision. You turned your head to look.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You asked with genuine fear in your heart. Endless questions began to flood in your head. What if he didn’t want it? What if he regretted this decision? What if a bad memory was prompted? Was he disgusted by the thoughts of long ago?

“I’m close.” He choked out, “I need you to come first.” You found yourself relieved that he wasn’t uncomfortable. He was far from it. He withheld his own pleasure though, choosing to serve you before anything else. Being used to lifelong servitude and to pleasing others, it was only natural to him. This was going to change eventually. Astarion was walking on a thin line and quickly losing his balance. It took all his will and power just not to cum deep in your womb. He was right on the edge, so close all he needed was a push. You whined and wiggled your hips.

“Do not move.” He ordered, cock violently twitching inside you and mouth pulled into a snarl.

“Just cum!” You could see his head shake from the corner of your vision, “please!” You lifted your face from the drawer and held onto the wood the best you could. Your hips snapped back into him. He threw his head back and groaned loudly as if it pained him.

“Please, please, please, please!” You continued to beg. He was seconds from bursting just from your pleading. Your manicured nails drove deep marks on the drawer and the mirror began to shake back and forth. Your rapid breath fogged up the reflection in front of you and blocked the view. You kept going faster. Your earrings swayed back and forth with all the movement, along with your long necklace that was repeatedly bumping against your breasts. His whole body weight was on you now, ceasing your thrusts, and he placed himself deep inside. The drawer was back to painfully jabbing at you and it kept you from breathing properly. And whatever air trapped in your lungs was forced out of you when he rammed into you one last time. His cockhead glued to your cervix when he blew his fat load into you. His eyes went wide. Hair completely down. He looked like he was dying and ascending at the same time then damn near screamed.

He leaned back to give your aching bones some rest with a sweaty forehead against your shoulder. He was groaning even past his orgasm. You reached up to caress him.

“My star. I really wanted to go to the ball.” You sigh. He held onto your breasts again and pinched your nipples. “Are you not done?” Your makeup was ruined and so was your dress. You didn’t even get to cum either. But that was okay, as long as he relished in himself for once.

“Not quite. I’m sorry, darling. I’m sure there’s a spare dress.” He lifted his head and applied soft kisses to your cheeks

“Star, I really liked this dress.”

“I am sorry, my treasure.”

“This occasion was important to me.”

“I’m sorry…” It’s not often he would apologize. “Please, one more…” He sounded so weak and shattered. His head against your back just huffing and puffing. He held onto your waist, lovingly running with thick fingers down your exposed skin. Your skin was squishy compared to his rough finger pads. He was still hard and deep within you, his tip still cuddling your cervix. Another sigh escaped your lips, and you felt your clit throb again. Still unsatisfied. Your eyebrows arched upwards at the sensation. He wanted more and so did you. He felt so good just being seated inside you with his cum seeping out of you, most likely staining his pants and traveling down his balls. You could feel the stretch his thick dick provided to your abused walls. The same familiar feeling of want was still coiled up within, you needed release so badly. You wanted him to fuck it out of you. You bit your lip and looked into the mirror. Pretending to see his own reflection standing behind you. The thought of it made you clamp down on him and you both moaned. You turned your head and looked into his cat-like eyes. His broken voice did not match the way he was glaring at you. Seeming possessive.

Astarion pressed your back against his chest and your lips instinctively pressed on his jaw when he did so. When he pulled out, you could feel his cum spill between your thighs. Must’ve been very pent up. He moved his hand up towards the torn dress that was clinging to your hips, and tried to pass it down your legs, but the waist chain kept it from doing so. He ripped the pearled chain, and the beads fell onto the floor with the dress itself. The torn material was a tripping hazard that pooled around your feet. You didn’t even try to express your anger since he wouldn’t have acknowledged it. The only clothing you had on was the lace panties, the stockings, the jewelry, and your high heels. The vampire behind you was still completely clothed. You could still sense his icy coolness even through the layers of his attire. Your slim hand went down to begin playing with your clit.

His arm wrapped around your waist as the other slid his dick back inside you. Your pussy welcomed him hungrily. Your other hand grabbed onto his strong forearm as he began his thrusts. You kissed his jaw and cheeks, staining them a nice red with the remaining pigment you had on your lips. Astarion shut his eyes for a brief moment, cherishing in your care. He felt overwhelmed with love and lust. He had no idea how to express it. You were the best thing that’s happened to him. Finally someone who would put him first. Providing him soft affection and kind words even when he thought he didn’t deserve it. Being treated so kindly angered him in a way. The way you kissed him was so gentle compared to the way he was fucking you. Astarion felt guilty for rutting into you so harshly, but he couldn’t contain what he was feeling. Whatever that feeling was.

He looked down to watch as you played with yourself. Seeing your hand movements down between your breasts. Each thrust had them bounce. Your mascara ran down your flushed cheeks as your lipstick smeared against your chin and nose. Your eyeshadow and liner was smudged as well. It was all a mess and he loved it. He loved this. He loved you. Something so beautiful ravaged by him. Astarion kept going and wouldn’t stop; he couldn't. Not with the way your walls eagerly swallowed him. How it would squeeze down on him everytime he pulled back, asking him not to leave. You were velvety, tight, and wet. Feeling every ridge and every flutter. Felt your legs shake and wobble. He sensed how you would progressively compress on him the closer you got. Barely even able to shove himself fully into you. The tip kept hitting that perfect spot, the spot that had your eyes rolling and he kept striking and beating it devastatingly fast. You stopped kissing him, having a hard time breathing through the vicious motions. You can’t think. Everything was a blur and you felt dizzy. Your pretty nails dug into his forearm without a care in the world. The sound of your hips meeting was far too loud, anyone with ears would be able to listen. You tried your best to stay quiet, but the hits Astarion kept giving was blowing your cover. The slapping was loud, the way the desk rumbled was loud, the way the mirror shook was loud and each time it trembled it would hit the wall. You hoped the music was deafening enough to muffle everything while he was giving you a throrough fuck. Completely surrendering yourself to him. Taking him so well. Your hair was all over your face now, whisps sticking to sweat, to tears, and to gloss. The edge of the drawer was pinching the hand that was between your legs and it hurt, squishing your arm. Astarion began to lean forwards now which made it even worse making your nails dig deeper into his sleeved arm to brace yourself. He was never this rough before. One hand came up and moved your hair out of the way to smooch you.

“Good pet.” He whispered rasply. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. He bended further into you. Not only did the drawer now hurt your arm but it went back to crushing your ribs. You were on your tippy toes from the positioning and positive that your heels were breaking. Your fingers rubbed quick circles on your clit while he plowed through you, which had a sob escape you. You’ve been trying to keep quiet. Despite the other ruckus the both of you have been doing, the last thing you wanted was someone hearing you delighting yourself in such a publicly debauched way. He himself wasn’t holding back though. Anyone would be able to hear him panting. You were doing this to him. It all felt so wrong but it only further encouraged the throbbing in your core. He let a long, pained groan go while baring his teeth. The sharp fangs gleamed in the light as he slowly glided his tongue over them. He was frustrated and wanted this to last longer.

“Gonna cum again?” You tease.

“Yes.” His eyes were wide now as he slammed in. He looked crazed. Like a rabid animal chasing his own high. White silver hair framing his sculpted features. Red orbs peering through the strands. He was actually enjoying himself. Actually enjoying sex without the weight of his past bearing down on him. That realization made you gush. Eyes rolling as you felt his (previous) cum and wetness drip down your ankles.

“Yeah?” You coo.

“Yes.”

“Then do it. Fuck your child into me. Do it. Fuck me.” You said through gritted teeth. You didn’t mean for it to sound like a command and it made your heart drop the second those words left your mouth. You could only hope at the moment that he was okay with it. You were going to apologize until he jerked your hair back and forced your face upwards. Unleashing something primal the second you finished that sentence. He wanted you to bear his child even if it was an impossible feat. Astarion hates kids but the thought drove him mad and he was willing to give you everything you desired. He kept pulling until you were able to look into his red eyes. Towering over you. You could see just how deranged he appeared. Consumed by passion. The insatiable hunger that radiated off his cold body was intoxicating. Your back was impossibly arched now and you felt like you were gonna snap in half. Even more so whenever he bucked his hips. The severe pain on your arm made you abandon your needy clit.

“Yeah? Like that, darling? Huh? Just like that?” You couldn’t say a word. Not one. The ache in your ribs, back, scalp and neck was intolerable but you needed him to cum. To not care about anything else but his own pleasure. You could feel his dick pummeling through your guts and mistreating your cervix. Somehow you were still reaching your high.

“This is what you want? Huh? Yes? No? Tell me.” He spoke but it didn’t mean anything. All words lost their meaning. Astarion was fucking your brains out. The heels broke under his ministrations. He was wrecking everything. Your vision went blurry from the tears, they kept spilling and wouldn’t stop. You were going to cum crying. You were gonna cum just like this.

“So cockdumb you can’t even answer me?” The eye contact was driving you both crazy. The view he had was so fucking hot you wouldn’t believe it. His cum stained balls smacking your clit with each hit. You grounded your cunt against him just to grind your clit against his balls and you rolled your hips for more. Finally your bundle of nerves was getting the attention it deserved. Your mouth was open, spilling silent cries when your eyes moved to the back of your head. No longer able to stare into his blown pupils. He gruffed in anger and grabbed you by the throat instead of your hair.

“Look at me.” He told you as his hand squeezed ruthlessly. You listened. “There you go, my sweet little treat. You’re taking me so well.” Astarion smiled down at you villainously, teeth white and shiny. Silver hair all over the place. Eyes manic. He was fucking mental. Juices flowed down as you came, If his pants were not ruined before, it was ruined now. You came looking deep into his soul, violently trembling and jolting in snapped heels. You needed to scream but couldn't because of the choking. Mouth opened and closed for air. The tear soaked makeup slightly burned when it slipped into your eyes. Veins pulsing the best it could despite the blockade Astarion’s ivory hands gave. Your head was hurting and thumping and your palms laid on what was in front for any form of support. Once again your nails worked itself into the wooden drawer leaving behind more horrible marks in its wake.

Astarion fucked your beaten pussy past your orgasm. Back being all sorts of blown out. Your walls were milking his dick and balls, begging for his seed to flood your womb and hoping to knock you up. It made him grip your throat even tighter. Your Adam’s apple tried bobbing up and down to swallow up any breath you could seek. In his point of view your face was a light scarlet because of the lack of oxygen, with a vein protruding from your forehead. Him mistreating you, and you letting him sent shivers up his spine. He let go once your vision almost faded and blurred, then brutally drove his fangs into your neck. You gasped for air when he unclasped, somewhat because of the sudden pain and mostly because of the choking. Having large amounts of air fill your lungs helped you regain vision. The mirror was no longer foggy and you could get a good view of the situation. You were in tatters. Hair. Makeup. Outfit. Embarrassment creeped in with just how fucked out and shameless you seemed. Is this what you really looked like? Or was the mirror playing tricks? Is this what Astarion has been seeing this whole time? How depraved and disgusting. He loved the view though. Your jewelry, tits, and locks kept moving with the thrusts. But with the aggressive and speedy drinking, your sight would blur up in no time. And with your desperate breathing, the mirror would soon fog up again. The tang in your blood was sweeter than before and his fangs pushed further in to drain you better. Astarion was properly feeding this time and didn’t hold back in greedily sucking you up. Every muscle was sore and you were surely going to pass out. Then the taste of euphoria in your blood made him burst. Abruptly grabbing onto your breast, his yell was muffled since his teeth were still latched. He jerked with each rope of cum he shot into you. The tip probing and nuzzling your spent cervix. You let out a long moan when he started filling you to the brim a second time.

“Fuck. I'm sorry…” Astarion wiped your tears away when he came to his senses. Heavy pants mixing together. Your body was in horrible pain and limp but you felt joy in bringing him pleasure. He nuzzled you while skimming his fingers on the dark bruises kindly. “I’m so sorry darling. I don’t know what possessed me. I’ll make it up to you… what do you want to eat? I’ll bring food to you.” The marks on your neck began to show and he felt intense regret. How could he lose himself like this? How could he treat you this way? To someone he loved and appreciated so vastly? “Please forgive me, my love.” He said, fear in his trembling voice. He fucked up badly.

“Gods…” he whispered. You slumped onto the desk. Astarion was going to be hellbent on compensating you for the harm he had done.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Well, yes, but—“

“Then it’s okay.”

“No. It is not okay. I am truly sorry. Do not try to validate my actions. I am so sorry about the ball, darling.”

“Yeah, you’re an asshole for tearing my dress and for breaking your promise to take me dancing.” You admitted as he embraced you. “But you can make it up to me by buying me a new dress. AND by giving me lots of cuddles. If you’re up for it.” You offer.

“Of course, my treasure, how could I say no?”

[teyums]

Infatuation ✽ Neteyam Sully

wc: 1.8k pairing: neteyam x fem! human reader contains: just fluff <3 a/n: based off this request. honestly i’m not usually a fan of human reader x na’vi but this idea was very cute to me so I folded lolll

After years and years of what seemed like pointless trials and endless research on the chemical components that would successfully craft a serum allowing humans to breathe pandora’s air, you were lucky enough to be the first to try it out. You begged to be. The world outside the lab called to you, as did the voice in your head screaming to explore, the volume of it growing unbearably loud. The second you received the okay after taking the dose, you pushed out of the doors and into the world around you—breathing in the once toxic air. It was fresh, so much clearer than earth’s air, with a mossy scent of wood and petrichor streamlining through the breeze.

You wasted no time and bundled into the forest, shoulders weighted from your satchels filled to the brim with one subject notebooks and research logs you swiped from Max’s desk, a silent promise sounded in your head that you would return them in due time.

You hadn’t been careful enough, wandering into unmarked territory against the warnings of the scientists, when the body of a lengthy na’vi jumped down onto the overgrown forest floor below your shoes. He stood to his full height to leave you swallowing your tongue, eyes humorously wide and the lump in your throat bobbing nervously.

He looked down at you with such a piercing glare that your legs nearly turned to putty, his knife drawn but only pointed in your direction, not pressed to your throat like he would if you were a male. Human or not, you were still a woman, an unusually small one at that, and his mother taught him better.

His voice rumbled from deep in his chest, with an accent so thick you nearly had trouble understanding him when he demanded you speak of your purpose here, to save you from an untimely death he prayed he wouldn’t have to deliver.

He asked you a question that would require eye contact to ensure sincerity. However, his amber eyes wandered from yours, revealing he wasn’t at all threatened by you in the slightest, just perplexed. You answered frantically, your voice an embarrassing array of stutters while you promised your intentions were harmless, picking up the belongings you had dropped on the ground out of fear. He stared so intently, studying your much smaller frame, the way your features differed so vastly from his, the way you seemed so out of place yet you could breathe his air. You intrigued him— much to his reluctance.

He listened closely to your explanation, hard features and pursed lips softening at the sight of your trembling hands. He instructed you to leave and advised against coming back. He shooed you away and free of his hold with a tilt up of his chin, returning his knife back into the sheathing on his hip. Though he was out of your sight as you hurriedly made your way back to the lab, you were never out of his. He made his way into the trees and travelled from branch to branch, all the way to the edge of the forest to make sure you got out safely, something he would be doing more often than he expected.

From that moment on, you were more careful when you ventured out but a part of you couldn’t help but want to run into him again, and a part of him knew you wouldn’t listen to him when he told you not to. He could see it in your wondering eyes, an inference he made based on how you had stared at him like he created the stars with his own two hands, lips parted in awe when he stood in front of you.

You decided against telling Max and Norm what or who you had encountered, fearful they would revoke your field privileges, stopping you from ever seeing him again.

For weeks you’d plant yourself in the very same spot he spotted you the first time, childishly hopeful you would run into him again. And you did.

You asked of his name, eyes beady and beaming while they searched for any hint of a fissure in his stoic demeanor, your smile only growing when his deep voice granted you the privilege of knowing him. “Neteyam.” He spoke.

As time passed, you were increasingly less spooked every time he dropped in on you. Meeting him with a smile he now shyly returned, and an offering of some earth fruit he expressed interest in upon seeing it in your lunch box one day. Strawberries, or as he would call them, ‘the pointy red ones’. Aka, his favorite.

You wished you had gotten a picture of his reaction when he tried one for the first time. “Would you like to try one?” You’d said, holding the small red berry in front of his mouth and watching him take it from your hand. His cat like ears flickered with a newfound fascination as soon as it hit his tastebuds, eyes widened and blinking and tail swishing in delight. He took it upon himself to raid the rest of them from the minuscule container you held in your hands and shoveled them into his mouth like a kid in a chocolate factory, tuning out your belts of laughter.

And though he had seemed harsh the first time he saw you, it was only due to his innate protective nature. He couldn’t fathom why a feeble girl such as yourself, much less a human would be out so deep into the forest, especially without company.

So from that point on, he decided that he would follow you— just to make sure you weren’t disrupting any of the forest life with your research, of course. No other reason. You had never asked him to come along, he simply offered. He was more than interested in what you were doing and endlessly asked questions about the instruments you’d use to collect data, but unknown to you, he was mostly intent on keeping you safe. Because he enjoyed being around you, with you, and he couldn’t figure out why.

But it was apparent now; that Neteyam had developed a soft spot, an infatuation for someone who belonged to the very species him and his people despised. You.

The way he’d make the time in between the hours of his days to guide you through the forest, allowing you to gather rare samples without fear or collect those small, golden glowing flowers you swore reminded you of the dandelions back home. The day he kneeled in front of you, letting you place one between the plaits of his soft hair had been one you played over and over again in your mind while you laid in bed at night.

He’d sit with you, face to face on a blanket that was much too small to share with one his size, a curious finger prodding at your lip and hooking down into your jaw to pry it open. He’d peer into your mouth with a tilted glance as if he were a dentist, braids sweeping over his shoulders when he moved. “No fangs?” He’d query, making you giggle while your tongue swished around to find a comfortable spot around the intrusive finger. A wide, toothy grin would spread across his face at the sound of your laugh, his eyes lighting up and scanning your face to figure out how to make you do it again.

He’d hoist you up onto his back, more than willing to show you the parts of the forest you couldn’t see for yourself. Him leaping through the canopy trees and vast foliage while you clung to his body like a monkey would to its mother, giggling everytime a three fingered hand would reach around to check on you. Your unfiltered squeals and screams of excitement only made him jump higher and climb faster, almost like he wanted to impress you.

It was in the way he began bringing you small, hand-crafted trinkets or woven jewelry, made in your size to the best of his abilities due to his much larger hands. When you asked him why, he shrugged and said it was just a way of being nice— unknown to the fact that you’d read Grace’s old research logs where things such as the ones he gave you were noted as ‘courting gifts’ in na’vi culture.

The two of you would often relax together, perched on a branch, your back pressed to his stiff chest with his arms looped around to the front of your body. A blush would creep past your neck and to your cheeks when you’d feel his nose press into your hair, his breathing deepening while he took in your scent. He found it intoxicating, so new and foreign that he couldn’t help himself. His azure fingers would toy and intertwine with yours, amber eyes ogling the size of your tiny hands against his with utmost interest.

It shocked you, how intrigued such a fascinating being was with you, a normal human. Everything about him was so much more compelling, yet here he was, eager to get to know every part of you over and over again, seemingly conducting his own research.

His eyes had trailed over you while you sat with legs crossed in front of him, scribbling observations of the land down into a notebook when his hand reached forward to innocently tug at the strange looking clothing that always covered your body, his effortless strength nearly making you topple over. “Why do you wear all of these things? There’s no need, and they look uncomfortable.” His eyes big and focused, had he been a human boy you would have smacked his hand away at the obvious insinuation and probably filed a restraining order.

But Neteyam was different, everything about you and your kind was unknown to him. So you only looked up at him with a soft smile, finding his genuine confusion adorable. And even when you explained to him why you wore such extensive coverings back on earth, his eyebrows stayed furrowed, like he couldn’t understand it. The sexualization of the body was not something familiar to him and his people, and when you told him you faced dangers on your own planet because of it, you noticed his jaw tense in frustration.

After weeks of asking, he finally agreed to tutoring you in the na’vi language. He was patient with you, more patient than anyone your own species had ever been. He’d laugh heartily at you when your tongue would loll around in your mouth clumsily, watching your face scrunch up with determination while you terribly butchered the word he had demonstrated just moments prior. He’d shake his head to himself at your pouting when you realized you said it incorrectly, then pronounce it back to you, slower.

It was clear that in the short time spent with Neteyam, you had already won his heart. The way the rough pad of his thumb would smooth against the skin of your lips, taking note of how soft it was, and how they were pink instead of blue, like his. He had leaned in before you could realize, languidly brushing his lips against yours with a hum before pulling away. “Hm,” He cocked his head to the side and feigned confusion, the corner of his mouth slightly perking into a grin at your flustered appearance before he mimicked something he always heard you say. “I think I need to take some more samples.”

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Likes + Reblogs + Comments are much appreciated! 💗

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- to you reading fanfic about another member

masterlist | cyana's masterlist

SCOUPS: sulky baby mode x 100 when he finds out you're reading fanfic- and it's not even about him, it's about jeonghan??? he's upset because like he's right here?? why do you even need words on paper?? why are you giggling and kicking your feet when he's right here?? grabs your phone and throws it away from you - complains that you're basically cheating on him with jeonghan. shuts up real fast when you tell him he's basically cheating on you with jeonghan too.

JEONGHAN: very very very flabbergasted and betrayed. makes fun of you for even reading fanfic in the first place - ahhh i didn't know you were dElusiOnal like that (¬`‸´¬) mood switches up real fast when he finds out its literally a fanfic about dino. what the fuck man. dino????? his mind malfunctions at the mere thought of it. asks you what you see in him besides dino being the maknae. will read over your shoulder as you attempt to push him away.

JOSHUA: flushes and does not know what to say. gets all shy and giggly thinking its a fanfic about him and is stunned when you tell him- No! it's about mingyu! whines that he's literally your boyfriend and you're still reading about mingyu?? starts threatening to call mingyu up and expose you.

JUN: blinks in confused cat. asks you to explain why there's a fake story online about joshua and why you liked it?? is still very confused when you explain to him the online culture of fanfiction. will not talk to you when he finds out its a romantic story and you're reading as Y/N. joshua?? really?? i'm right here?? can hold a grudge for a loonngg time, jun stans beware.

HOSHI: finds it absolutely hilarious that there's even fanfiction about vernon existing in this world. finds it even more hilarious how invested you are. pesters you until you send him the link so he can forward it to vernon. will sit next to you and begs you to read it out loud like a bedtime story - cackles whenever Story Vernon does something he knows Real Vernon would die before doing.

WONWOO: judges you HARD until he researches more and finds some fanfics that are actually really well written. sends you ones about him as a poor attempt to distract you from reading ones about other members. will side-eye poor writing and acts like a writing critic. gets fed up if you continue to read fanfics about other members and tries reporting every fanfic not about him so you can't find it. (spoiler alert: he fails)

WOOZI: shrugs. understands everyone has their little quirk. he's a little weirded out that its fanfics about people he knows personally but he doesn't mind. looks at you when you start ranting about a "really good story" and asks you point blank if its another piece of fanfiction. finds it cute that you try to hide it from him. just say it's a really good fanfic plot, love. you're not fooling anyone with the "it's an amazing book i read online."

THE8: asks if you need to start meditating again. does not support the amount of delusion (sorry guys but have you guys seen the the8 anti fan service clips) chides you that he's literally right here and you don't need an online version! will tell you to just go find the member you're reading about if you want them so bad. (¬`‸´¬)

DK: giggles as he reads over your shoulder. gags at mentions of kissing. turns bright red if it's smut. looks at you with wide eyes and asks if you're really into kinky shit like that because he did not know. calls up seungcheol to tell him you're reading naughty things about him and dies at how mortified you look.

MINGYU: ego boosted 100% when you tell him its a seventeen fanfic. starts rolling his shoulders about to show off, telling you of course you're reading abt meeee ik im hot jeez im right here ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ ). is offended and perplexed when you tell him you're acc reading about woozi. sighs really loudly everytime he sees you on your phone - even if you're not reading fanfic (╥‸╥) will work extra hard at the gym just to prove to you he's the best one.

SEUNGKWAN: supports your interests 100%. admits to you months later that he acc also sometimes scrolls through their fanfics, just to see what their fans are up to. trades good fanfics with you sometimes - he stays solely with fluff fics though, will throw you the nastiest sideeye if you send him a smutty one.

VERNON: bro does not care! he just kind of nods, telling you that its cool. you can tell he's a little awkward about it though cause he doesn't bring it up ever again. will occasionally ask you for fic updates to see if you found anything funny or weird.

DINO: does not mind the fanfic reading itself but is super super annoyed that you're reading about someone else. WONWOO?? he'll yell, grabbing your phone to take a better look cause he cannot believe his eyes. what does hyung have that i don't?? threatens to expose you to wonwoo if you don't stop and read dino fics instead. tells you to screenshot anything that's remotely embarrassing so he can send it into the svt gc.

BONUS ౨ৎ ───

MINWON: mingyu sees it first - you kicking your feet and giggling over something on your phone. completely speechless when you turn it around and he sees its a mingyu x wonwoo fanfic and you're thoroughly enjoying it. gives you a disgusted look and calls up wonwoo, who looks equally disgusted. the two avoid each other for the next two weeks because everytime they see each other they're reminded that their fans ship them.

VERNON!COLLEGE: confused af when he sees how many fanfics are about him as a college frat boy. rants to you cause he literally didn't even go to high school?? more confused when you explain he just has frat boy energy. ends up taking it as a compliment.

[mim16s]

Survival in Game

Cho Hyun-ju x Autistic!Fem!Reader

•I'm not autistic, but I have a brother and a cousin who are, so I used my experience living with them to write this character. English is not my first language, but I tried my best to write this without spelling errors. This is my first story on this app, so I hope it is good.

This wasn’t what you wanted for your life. Honestly, you didn’t even understand how you had gotten to this point. All you wanted was to take care of your mother, to repay all the effort she had put into you. And you knew how hard it had been for her.

She got pregnant young and raised you on her own, with no support system. Your father? Well, you never knew him. He disappeared as soon as he found out about the pregnancy. Your grandparents, embarrassed that she had gotten pregnant so young and without even getting married, abandoned her too. That’s how your mother faced the world alone, with you in her arms.

And things got even harder. You knew that being autistic made everything more challenging for her. As a child, you didn’t speak, and your first words came only after many therapy sessions, which were expensive. But she never gave up. You remembered seeing her come home, exhausted after a long day of work, but always with a smile.

— Mom is fine. You’re everything I need to have strength, — she would say, trying to hide her exhaustion.

But you knew the truth. You knew how much she fought, how she struggled to meet all your needs, to make sure you never lacked anything. Everything fell apart when she got sick. You were 19. The illness took all her strength, and she could no longer work. That’s when the weight of the world fell on you. You had to find a job, but no matter how hard you tried, no one wanted to give you a chance. When they saw you weren’t neurotypical, they wouldn’t give you a chance.

Life became a daily struggle. You survived doing small jobs here and there, while some kind neighbors helped with food baskets. But the money was never enough, and the debts started piling up. Your mother’s treatments were expensive, and with each unpaid bill, the despair grew.Then he appeared. The man in the suit.He appeared out of nowhere, as if fate had sent him. With a piercing look, holding a briefcase in his hand. He stopped in front of you while you were resting in one of the subway chairs, with a smile that made you just as uncomfortable as it did curious.

— Looks like you need an opportunity, don’t you?—You hesitated, unsure of what to respond. He seemed to know exactly who you were and what you were going through.

— I want to propose something to you.

And that’s when you got a card with geometric symbols and a phone number. You stared at it, your heart racing without fully understanding it.

---

And now, here you were: in a strange hall, surrounded by people you didn’t know, in a place you had never seen before, wearing clothes you didn’t even remember putting on, and the fabric itched. You weren’t the only one confused. Perplexed looks crossed the room, and nervous whispers filled the air.

Then they appeared: masked soldiers, wearing uniforms that seemed more threatening than functional. You couldn’t help but shrink back, a heavy feeling that something was terribly wrong.They began to speak, explaining what was happening.

— Excuse me! — A voice echoed. Your eyes followed the sound until they landed on a beautiful woman, who seemed just as indignant as she was confident. — They said it would just be some games, but you kidnapped us. And you still want me to believe this?

— We apologize, — one of the masked soldiers replied, the voice distorted by some sort of modifier. — It was a necessary measure to ensure the confidentiality of the games we are organizing.

Questions started popping up from all sides, but the answers provided no comfort, only more tension. You wanted to understand better, but it was hard to follow. The questions, the sounds around you, the smell of sweat and fear in the hall, everything was pulling you in different directions. You began to rock back and forth slightly, trying to focus. It was something that always helped. But the discomfort persisted.

---

You were led to a large open field, surrounded by high fences and cameras that seemed to record every movement. It was announced that the first game would begin soon. When a desperate man screamed that, if anyone was eliminated, they would die, a chill ran down your spine. It couldn’t be true... right? But when the game began, the illusion of safety shattered. The sharp sound of a gunshot cut through the air. Your eyes widened, shock paralyzing you. That sound — loud, deafening to your sensitive hearing — seemed to hammer in your head. You instinctively wanted to cover your ears to block out that deafening noise, but you felt someone hold your hands firmly, preventing any sudden movements.

— Don’t move, it’s dangerous. — The voice came from behind. It was the beautiful woman from before. There was something in the firmness of her tone that managed to cut through your panic, bringing some calm.

— My ears hurt, — you murmured, your voice trembling.

— I know. But you have to hold on. Just a little longer.

Chaos spread around you. People were screaming, some running in desperation, while others were falling to the sound of new gunshots. You felt terror take hold, a heavy knot in your throat. Your legs felt like stone.

— If you don't cross the line in time, they'll still kill you! Look at the doll's eyes! They're cameras that scan for motion! But it's not able to detect you if you're behind something! — screamed one of the players, his voice desperate. — So if you short, line up behind someone who's taller than you!

Your body wouldn’t respond. You were frozen, the noise and the fear trapping you in place.The beautiful woman stopped in front of you, blocking your view of the rest of the field.

— Keep going. — Her voice was urgent, yet gentle. — You need to keep going. Don’t worry, I’ll stay in front of you. Just follow me, okay?

You couldn’t verbalize, but when the music started again, you followed her. Each step behind her felt like an eternity, but she kept her promise, protecting you as you moved forward.

After the game ended, everyone was taken back to the room. The atmosphere was heavy, filled with fear and despair. Lost looks, uncertain steps — everyone seemed terrified, and you were no different.Sitting on one of the beds, you rocked back and forth, an automatic motion, a desperate attempt to find comfort. But it didn’t help. Your breathing was uneven, the sounds around you seemed amplified, and all you wanted was to leave. Your mind raced in circles, always returning to the same question: Why me? You just wanted to help your mother. Everything you did was for her, and now you were trapped here, too scared to do anything.Then the voice of the masked soldiers echoed through the room, imposing order, the man from before who said he had already participated in this game proposed the vote.At first, the idea of voting seemed like an escape. A chance to get out of that terrible situation.

But then they revealed the amount of money accumulated by the people who had died. The sum gleamed in a giant safe suspended in the room. The shine of the money seemed to hypnotize some. Murmurs started to arise. Many were considering staying. You felt a tightness in your chest.

When the vote began, the sound of buttons being pressed was like a constant drum in your ears. You watched the people go to the ballot box, one by one, pressing their votes. Some hesitated, others went with determination.When it was your turn, your hands trembled as you walked up to the ballot box. The panel blinked in front of you: a circle to stay and an “X” to leave. You could barely see properly, your vision blurred by the tears at the corners of your eyes.Your finger pressed the “X.” You wanted to leave, go home. You needed your mother as much as she needed you. But when the final vote was recorded and the numbers were revealed, your heart sank.The majority had chosen to stay.Panic took over you again. Your fingers began to tremble uncontrollably, and you went back to your bed, feeling your whole body tighten. Your mind was in chaos. The rocking movement returned, but this time even more intense, as if your body was trying to compensate for the avalanche of emotions.You felt helpless. You wanted to scream, to cry, but all you could do was try to hold onto the little control you still had.

The terror was greater than anything you had ever felt before. And, even worse, it was just the beginning

Part 2:

[missmarveledsblog]

Hand on Heart ( jake seresin x singlemom! reader )

CHAPTER TWO

Summary: the first week come and goes as she meets more members of the dagger squad except of the mystery hangman til she and belle are invited showing the blonde that she wasnt just a mom and the blonde starts rethinking his no moms policy

warning : fluffy fluff

previous chapter

The week was standard enough  belle went to daycare each day was longer than the one before which meant y/n got more and more of the house unpacked and even invited nat over for lunch  a couple of times , well she invited the others but the woman said they couldn’t make it leaving out the part she threatened them not to come over .   then she also met them again at same fast food place this time it was two new faces she learned was coyote and payback apparently the elusive hangman was on a date  one of many from what she gathered he sound like a bit of a playboy of sorts  . then saturday she and belle was invited to the beach with the gang . now she was spending the morning baking away because well her grandmother taught her better than to show up empty handed . nat did tell her guys played some weird kind of football but she was happy to sit with nat and belle to sandcastle or play in the water. 

The dagger squad  where setting up their things while nat and rooster laying down some bucket and stuff as well as beach umbrella into the sand completely perplexing jake seresin who was checking out the beach babe beauties .  

“ what are y’all doing?” . 

“ setting up space for belle so it not too hot obviously “ rooster rolled his eyes. 

“ oh so mommy and me is coming today?” he teased . 

“ hey she actually cool chick , she gave me tips on how to fix my car “ javy smiled . 

“ well i’m sure shes a peach but moms are messy “ he shrugged. 

“ actually not too messy we carry wet wipe all time but thanks for the observation cowboy” the voice called as he turned . 

“ ignore him, hey look we set up a belle  patch …  we kinda went overboard “ nat wince looking around at the toys on the ground . 

“  wow you did but y’all didn’t have to, thank you ,   i brought cookies and cupcakes “ she held the bag up . 

“ you must be bagman  “ she turned to the blonde .

“ it’s Hangman or Jake and you must be the mom i’ve been hearing about ?” he smiled, maybe the mom thing wasn’t too bag after all . 

“ Well cowboy don’t worry about this mom you're not my type so you're safe “ she  shook his hand before seeing belle already running towards rooster excitedly falling in the sand a couple of times before changing her mind and going to nat instead much to the man's disappointment. 

“ told you she’s too smart for you guys  seems like so is belle “ nat cheered and she twirled with the toddler in her arms . 

“ I didn't mean offense by the way ?” Jake called. 

“ none taken seriously don’t worry about it i ain’t gonna cry because a life size ken doll doesn’t like me that way, i ain’t looking for love either  “ she snorted as the others laughed.  “ now that out of the way would ya like a cookie or a cupcake “ she opened the boxes already knowing which one belle was after handing her a cupcake as she sat near  rooster who chose the same as well as a cookie. 

“ shit these are so good “ fanboy groaned . 

“ language around the baby” rooster hissed as  he covered her ears . 

“  i’m glad you like em , my grandmother would roll in her grave if she knew i showed up empty handed “ she chuckled taking her own out  sitting on towel  . “ so y’all playing football thing ?” she asked . 

“ yeah if you wanna play i can sit here with belle “ rooster offered only for jake to snort . 

“ i think i might “ she narrowed her eyes  at the blonde . “ how do you play “ she whispered to nat . 

“ you sure you wanna do this , i mean it not some pta thing or playing with blocks ” jake teased. 

“  i grew up with boy cousins and two  brothers  who didn’t see gender roles in their rough play ,i can take you on anytime cowboy ken” she crouched . “ plus ain’t size of dog it the fight of it “ she winked as Mav blew the whistle just as fanboy threw her the ball jake barrelled towards her she was veering to the left watching him  easily already heading that way before skimming the blonde and hitting right to throw the ball to payback who then score just as jake hit the sand . “ need a wet wipe “she chuckled holding her hand out for him to take . 

“ lucky first shot is  all “ he took her hand going to pull her down with him but she pulled her hand back making him fall back again . 

“Oldest trick in the book tic tac toe“ she stuck her tongue out as jake laughed. 

“ ok come on we get her this time “ was probably javy’s favorite sentence of the game til she with help of payback and fanboy scored the winning goal . before she heading over to  nat who looked happy with the sleeping toddler on her chest .  as she took her her shorts and tshirt off to lay on the sand an let the heat hit her skin as well as the fact her clothes where drench in sweat from the game what she didn’t see was the guys reaction to the show and had jake really rethinking his whole deal on single moms . while two sit on sand talking away while guys played couple of games . 

“ we’re heading hard deck soon for lunch ,  penny got some juice and things for little miss there when your ready join us “ Mav smiled . 

“ oh thank you  isn’t the hard deck a bar though ?” she asked sort of wide eye .

“ we have lunch the weekends before she opens  “ nat reassured her . 

“ ok well i better take her off of you get her into her carseat” she went to grab her only for nat to stand belle still sleeping soundly . 

“ it’s a two minute walk from here literally across the car park “ she walked ahead.  

“ ok i’ll just grab a clean shirt out of my car “ she snorted as the guys helped her pack up her stuff . 

“ amelia will probably offer her babysitting services  just to warn you and penny’s been dying to meet belle” Mav  smiled carrying her bag to the guys disappointment .  

“ y’all are very welcoming out here “  her eyes watching rooster talking to a now confused and dazed  belle slight reminding her of her brothers  in away making her miss them . 

“ so you said you have brothers?” Mav asked. 

“ two big ones  , both in navy funny enough , one is stationed in texas and another is deployed “ she smiled softly .

“ are you guys close ?” he asked . 

“ very  i mean  we had other family but it was mainly three of us with our grandparents then my grandfather passed away when i was 13 so our grandma raise us “ she smiled sadly. 

“ your parents ?” mav asked. 

“ Well not really parents got their own things going on i guess but we didn’t miss out on anything our grandma was a saint , sometimes  slightly scary woman “ she chuckled. 

“ sorry that was probably over the line asking “ he winced . 

“ nah it’s ok  i ain’t shamed of my upbringing  actually proud of it  , we would of been deemed lost causes to rest of the world but showed them different “ she smiled brightly. 

“  well i’d say their proud of you now , your brothers i mean “  . 

“ oh they are i mean  they are both trying to get stationed here, benny is more so  he’s the oldest and kai is the middle who is deployed somewhere in the pacific  and then i’m baby who is adorable and  sweet as a peach “ she joked . 

“ hey peach suits you think we found your callsign kiddo “ mav chuckled ruffling her hair . 

“ who got call sign?” bob asked . 

“ peach here , sweet as a peach “ mav nudged her. 

“ i regret bringing that up “ she grimaced. 

“ well get over it apple “  jake smirked. 

“ will do hopscotch “ she ran up to see belles lip wobble . 

Walking into the hard deck she was little nervous meeting more people but the moment she seen Penny Benjamin's warm smile  those nerves melted away .  She was eager to win Belle over seemed as though they all did during the lunch even jake decided to get in on it ultimately him and nat were favorites for awhile  til she got upset and started calling for  “roo” .  honestly she thought the man was going to cry with the excitement . she even got in a few games of pool to which jake got his comeback and beat her at .  the guys also agreed to come over help with the last few things she needed to  do in the house and Amelia indeed offered her babysitting services.

She was barely even awake when she heard the knocking on her door soft glow of the morning sun coming through the window she checked to see belle still undisturbed on the monitor  .  she barely had time to wipe the sleep out of her eyes when she padded her way down the hall . stretching as she pulled open the door to see the dagger squad standing on her porch bright eyed . 

“Are y’all ok it like … what time is it “ she groaned leaving the door open for them to come in and follow. 

“ it’s ten  wait shit i though babies wake early so figured you’d be awake “ rooster winced. 

“ nah she still asleep really tuckered her out yesterday  i’ll  guess i’ll get breakfast started and coffee “ she stretched out . 

“ is the kiwi not a morning person ?” jake called she didn’t need to even look at the man to know he was smug and smiling at her. 

“ nah monopoly i ain’t , now who wants pancakes” she turn as a show of hands raised up only for her to hear a cry coming down the hall .  “ let me get princess belle and i’ll get breakfast started “ she yawned more before heading down the hall only this time one pair of eyes where following her. 

“ next time we don’t listen to rooster … the baby expert “ nat rolled her eyes  following down to apologize .

“ this place is cool , she was telling me she'd been fixing it up while belle was in daycare and nat  been saying same she even helped her paint and stuff “ bob  told them all as they stood waiting . 

“ what she need our help for ?” jake asked looking around bob was right she made the little space like home such a short of time it was cozy he could see himself relaxing after hard day . 

“ she doesn’t but we offered to help our new co worker and friend out “  rooster shrugged . 

“ also helping the hot mom out works too “ payback whispered just as sound of little feet came running down the halls stopping looking up at the men staring down . 

“ jake “ she squealed holding her little arms out to the man . 

“ hey little lady  love the crazy do this morning “ he chuckled lifting her up , her hair out like a birds nest as her little hands rubbed her eyes  .

 “ like her moms it would seem “ rooster snort and y/n was currently  fixing her hair back up on top of her head and out of her face. 

“   you still look beautiful though” bob smiled shyly. 

“ for that you get extras “ she patted the WSO’s cheeks as he stood a little taller.  All following into the kitchen as nat moved around easily being the only one of the group who was actually ever in the space.  She began pulling it all out as jakes eyes widen as excitement took over the man seeing the stuff  his home state sitting right on the counter . 

“ shit where  you get that i haven’t found any of that stuff here” he smiled . 

“ i brought  a lot  kinda scared i wouldn’t find it here my brother  said he’s gonna bring more up when he visit i’ll ask him bring extra for you but i don’t know when that will be “  her back turned cutting up some fruit as nat was making everyone coffee . moving around the large men around the kitchen sitting the little plate on counter grabbing the bottle of milk nat handed her .  “ thank you gorgeous lady “ she winked taking belle out of the blondes arms before placing her in her highchair handing her the bottle and plate . 

“ i’ll watch her while your doing that “ rooster offered . 

“ thank you chicken” she cooed  making him blush . 

“ you don’t do that when hangman calls you chicken “ fanboy whispered. 

“ she’s prettier and has better accent than hangman  , hers doesn’t sound condescending either” he shrugged. 

All eyes watching  like they’d never seen how a breakfast was made such fascination  while she was talking about how excited she was to finally start working with them all . it was strange how close she already felt with the group after a short amount of time .   she was already picking up mannerisms of each individual , each persona of each member of the dagger squad.  

“ thank you peach “ each member called as she place their plate in front of them bar jake  who said “ thank you banna “ 

“ you know your gonna run out of fruit bop it “ she chuckled . 

“ your gonna run out of games “ he shoot back  taking a  forkful of food nearly falling in his seat shit he was really start to rethink his policy on single moms now .

next chapter

[yourneighborhoodporg]

Hello! Could I request an obi wan x reader x anakin fic where the reader is a force sensitive Jedi? They have to go undercover for a mission and ani and obi are awestruck/distracted by reader in flattering clothes (that aren’t Jedi robes) and it makes them both realize their feelings :) feel free to make it a lemon if you want

Little Red Dress

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader x Anakin Skywalker

Warnings: Jealousy, Reader in Alluring Clothing, Brothel Setting, Some Life-Threatening Danger, Light Violence, Creepy(ish) Fella, Soft Smut (Minors DNI), all characters are over 18, Anakin Threatening Murder TM (why am I even surprised 😂), light banter, fluff, alcohol is around, boys being worried, HEAVY FLIRTING.

Song Inspo: Red Dress — MAGIC!

A/n: This took me way too long to get to lol 💀 Absolutely love this request idea which made it so fun to write. Wasn’t sure which gender you wanted for the reader so I made them female-identifying. This is my first request and short (lol) fic so please let me know your thoughts! Hope you enjoy :)

Words: 8.1k

She was built like a dream — Joseph Heller

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker were… uncomfortable.

Not because Master Yoda himself had tasked the three of you with this urgent mission to the Outer Rim. Nor was it due to the cloudy, dark, and incessantly rainy atmosphere that was Morlana One’s Leisure Zone— its backstreets dotted by the occasional lifeless streetlight that just barely reflected off the puddles below, paving the two Jedi a glimmering path toward the local brothel.

No. It wasn’t any of that at all.

Instead, they felt a foreign existence within their own bodies, with each nearing step toward the club’s shadowy entrance, on account of the perplexing, and frankly alien, wears that sheened their limbs.

Of course, they never had any styling choice in the matter. Not for an assignment like this, where the elimination of Jedi symbols was expected.

Because this was a mission that required a gentler, more covert hand.

Because this was a mission that had you all undercover.

Nearly 72 hours ago, unknown assailants had broken into one of the Jedi Temple’s artifact rooms. From the emergency cache, they’d stolen seven Kyber crystals, which were always held at the ready in case a Jedi needed a temporary saber after damaging or misplacing their own.

A facility Anakin took advantage of too many times to count.

But, on this occasion, the Order could only count themselves lucky that The Chosen One had again somehow lost his lightsaber during a short mission to the Coruscant Underworld, requiring him to report to that very same artifacts chamber for a replacement before he could continue his search down into the planet’s murky depths. By chance, the chestnut-haired Jedi had arrived just in time to witness that the usually locked, ornate wooden door was notably ajar. And, with further investigation, that the krystals’ storage chest had been ransacked.

With Council Member Master Kenobi assigned to the inquiry, he quickly learned from a few trustworthy sources, including his old friend Dex, that the crystals were flown off-world to be sold at auction. To a seedy establishment in the Morlani System, no less. All with an undetectability and swiftness that duped not only the inter-District and planetary departure security systems, but the Jedi Temple’s once-thought-impregnable apparatus as well.

Evidently, Master Yoda had found that this operation met a sophistication not often seen among the ranks of disparate pirates or common thieves. It was why, after Kenobi came to him with this information, the Grand Master decided that the bearded man and Jedi Knight who discovered the robbery would be assigned to retrieve these precious artifacts. Placing an emphasis on the need to arrive undercover, lest this sordid enterprise catch wind of a group of creeping, saber-wielding Jedi.

They just couldn’t risk it.

Any action like that would certainly force this gang to race underground once again, crystals in tow, before the Jedi had a chance to recover them.

So, the Council supplied Obi-Wan and Anakin with clothes of the region’s elite, aiming to disguise them both as potential buyers.

Kenobi, a black dress uniform with gold, reflective embellishments suffocating his suit jacket while fueling his growing desire to remain hidden within the shadows as it converted his torso into a glinting beacon under the passing lights. And Skywalker, a simpler, but equally sophisticated gray suit atop a pearly white button-down that screamed conformity louder than Anakin could voice his displeasure.

Still, leaving the crystals’ fate up to whether this gang would accept Republic Credits was a game of pure chance. That, and the notion of buying back stolen, sacred property was never the Jedi way.

That’s where you came in.

A Jedi whose Force-sensitivity was so saturated, that you had the ability to viscerally sense Kyber crystals from parsecs away. And a talent that, in Master Yoda’s opinion, made you the perfect addition to the team.

Well, that and the open secret that the three of you had long ago become an unofficial squadron already. Considering the countless missions you’ve traipsed through together for most of your Jedi, and even Padawan, years, it was a wonder that Master Yoda felt the need to specifically mention your name either way. Even on missions in which the rag-tag trio were slingshotted to opposite poles of the galaxy, you’d always found a way back to each other.

That, or the Force itself had a dire motivation to keep those momentary separations brief.

Perhaps that’s why the two men, in addition to their clothing-related distractions, had sparking nerves heightened by another, salient factor.

That you weren’t by their side.

Given your skill set, it was clear from the beginning your cover needed to be quite different from theirs. So, twenty hours before the auction was set to start, while Obi-Wan and Anakin prepared their disguises, you slipped out. Leaving for the brothel on your own since you all agreed that the only way to secure your cover as an establishment employee was by actually applying to become one.

It was the only surefire way to explore the back rooms without tipping the sellers off. The only option the three of you had to find the crystals’ exact location. And to ensure that when chaos did reign, the artifacts wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.

Still, neither man particularly enjoyed this arrangement.

“You remembered to bring it, correct?” Obi-Wan voiced, glancing at Anakin’s pensively taught brows beside him as the brothel’s neon purple sign gently flickered into view, encouraging him to once again tug at his neckline’s taught clasp around his throat.

“Of course!” The younger Jedi acknowledged. “I was the one telling her that she should’ve had it in the first place.”

In spite of the underlying weariness still thrumming at his chest, Kenobi couldn’t help but raise an amused brow at his former Padawan.

“You? Lecturing Y/n about leaving her lightsaber behind? I seem to recall that it was your inability to keep track of your own that landed us in this predicament in the first place.”

Anakin scoffed, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I seem to remember Master Nu saying that the raid on the artifacts room wouldn’t have been discovered for weeks if it weren’t for me.”

Still, the chestnut-haired Jedi sighed, yanking down the tails of his gray suit jacket that just barely fit his longer form while he continued.

“Besides, it was no mistake. She didn’t take her lightsaber intentionally.”

Kenobi shook his head knowingly. Partly due to his former Padawan’s somewhat warped perspective of the situation, but mostly because he too was not completely on board with the notion of you being undercover and completely unarmed. Though, no matter how much he desired to do so, Obi-Wan had trouble denying that, like always, your reasoning stood sound.

A reminder that subconsciously made his heart flutter.

“You know, Anakin, that she couldn’t have feasibly hidden it away. It’s safer for her that we hold onto it for now. She will have it when she needs it.”

And that’s why, no matter his outward assurances, Kenobi seemed to have an inability to take his own advice. Perhaps too it was Anakin’s own anxieties that were infecting the Force.

But no leakage from his signature could truly reflect the hate Skywalker felt for this plan. He had shot down its premise the whole journey here, but in the end, it was no use. Anakin understood that once you put your mind to something, especially in the name of protecting the community you held so dear, there was nothing anyone in the Galaxy could do to stand in your way.

And he really did treasure you for that.

“I know,” Skywalker grumbled, pivoting to avoid a stumbling Bith with a curved bottle in hand, brown liquid sloshing out to land just beside his black dress shoe as he walked by. “But I still don’t like it.”

Evidently, no matter their confidence in your ability to take care of yourself, the two men remained deeply troubled by the fact that you were still far enough away as to be immune from their protection.

But that would soon change.

“Alright,” Kenobi slowed just beside the establishment’s greasy, revolving door to address the younger man as they neared their arrival.

“We will need to remain in one place so that Y/n can find us. She needs to know where we are at all times to deliver the signal. The zone’s blueprints suggest that the center bar will have the best vantage point. So that’s where we’ll go. Oh—“

Obi-Wan lifted a warning brow at the younger man.

“And don’t stray.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, lips pursing in an attempt to keep his face neutral.

“I don’t stray, Master.”

—

If you had your portable chronometer on your person, you would’ve checked it by now.

About fifteen minutes, you’d been waiting a handful of meters from the brothel’s storage room, disguised by the far corner tables nestled within the establishment’s shadowy edges. Marking it the perfect locale for distant observers of the night’s entertainment— or idly spying Jedi. Fifteen minutes since Krissa, a now fellow employee, shuffled into that very same room to collect a few crates of Fizzbrew for the opening bar. Nearly twenty hours after you’d secured employment as what the owner lovingly called a “Friendly Dancer.”

Luckily, it was during that same interview that you’d caught the colorful, Force-illuminated trail, leading your attuned senses to this secured back room, like a bloodhound to its prey.

Or a Jedi to her Kyber crystals.

Yet, despite your carefully chosen cover, both assumed identity and dark corner camouflage, you still had a nagging feeling that your specially selected ‘employee uniform’ wasn’t doing you any furtive favors.

Besides the strikingly crimson, skin-gripping short dress that clad your hips, the black, shimmering fishnet stockings and translucent platform heels were sure to draw some unwanted attention during a time in which invisibility was your best friend.

But you had no choice. If you had any hope of maintaining your cover and completing your mission, you had to work with what you were given.

So, for now, one of these rusted-over, ash stools would need to serve their purpose— concealing you from the trickling in throng’s broad perspectives as you kept a peripheral lock on that steel door’s sturdy frame. One by one, hungry bidders with puffy, expensive coats and sparkling wears thickened the atmosphere, all while you hoped Krissa would quicken her exit via the locked door so that you could slip in.

It was moments like these that you’d wished you had your lightsaber. At least then, you could’ve cut through the heavy, metal barrier all on your own.

But, alas, this was a mission of stealth. And you’d be damned to put either Obi-Wan or Anakin in danger because of your impatience.

Causing you to, once more, question their absence.

“Boys, boys. Where are you boys…” you hummed lowly to yourself.

Glancing toward the billowing crowd, you grew remiss at their absence. It was easy to recall how both Jedi were particularly against your decision to immerse yourself into this environment, alone and unarmed. So much so, that you assumed they would’ve arrived by now. An observation that forced you to consider how this mission was sure to sour quick were you required to act without backup.

You shook that thought out of your mind almost as immediately as it arrived.

Obi-Wan and Anakin would always appear when you needed them most.

And you adored them for that.

That, among the litany of elements that drew you into their lives in the first place.

Your first mission together was but a sapling in the times you were to share. Memories, little moments, and fleeting glances recently coalesced into the singular realization that you’d fallen in love with two of the most powerful Jedi the Galaxy has to offer.

But they were just that. Jedi.

And so were you.

So no matter your unquestionable feelings for the men, there was nothing you could do. Putting aside that you doubted any emotional reciprocation, you were sure too that they’d never break the Jedi code for you.

And that left you to again drag yourself back from those innermost thoughts to focus on the situation at hand. Specifically, your conclusion that any dearth left in Obi-Wan and Anakin’s wake would mean nothing of consequence if you couldn’t get into that storage room.

Luckily, there was no need to wait much longer.

Krissa shoved open the door, using her back to thrust it the rest of the way with a crate of clinking, dark green bottles swirling in her arms. Fluttering lilac dress flowing by her legs as her eyes landed on your surveilling form.

Kriff.

“Hey!” She scream whispered, brows stitched in reprimand while she leaned toward you. “You’re gonna get fired before you’ve even had a chance to work if you keep hiding from paying customers.”

You smiled sheepishly, playing into her assumption as you ‘stumbled’ to your feet.

“I’m so sorry,” you mouthed, ambling toward the older woman while lifting a hand to ripple through the force floating by her eyes.

You spoke lowly.

“You want me to help you bring out those crates.”

“I want you to help me bring out these crates,” she parroted in a glazed-over daze, arm catching the steel door just before it shut to allow you entry.

You nodded to her thankfully, even though she had no choice in the matter, before pushing your way past the chilly aperture, entering the stuffy storage room while the door slammed shut behind you.

Speedily, you surveyed the cramped compartment, stacked and spread to the ceiling with a strange concoction of alcohol-filled crates, charcoal cargo containers, and draped artifacts that evinced the basement of a museum far more than a brothel’s back room.

But you didn’t really give it a second thought. If you didn’t want to get caught, then there was no time to ponder aesthetics.

Quickly, as your eyes fluttered closed, you allowed the Force to thicken your blood, treating your body and mind like a living, breathing compass in its guide to connect you with your True North—

The seven missing Kyber crystals.

With vision consumed by blackness, you dodged each precariously placed box and every outstretched figurine that threatened to obstruct your path as your senses drew you a detailed map toward the back wall. Almost like a pulsing beacon, you felt the heat of your connection to the sacred artifacts deepen, warming your more-than-usually exposed skin. Intensifying with each, deliberate step. Until it reached a fiery blaze so extravagant that one stride further would’ve certainly lit you alight.

You opened your eyes.

“Hey!” A deep voice called from behind you, triggering your heels to spin around toward the sudden sound, and away from the loosely sealed cargo container whose subtle, yet familiar, blue shine confirmed your senses.

Swiftly, you absorbed the older man’s ruffly peppered beard and chilled brown eyes as his head poked past the slightly ajar steel door, barely masked snarl contorting his lips.

“I don’t pay you to ogle the merchandise! Get out there and mingle,” he continued, jutting a thumb to the club’s main room to his rear.

You leapt to your feet, making a mental note of the crystals’ location while scurrying toward the owner who seemed to have somehow grown at least one more gray hair since your interview with him.

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled, twisting to get by his form against the door and entering onto the main floor before turning back toward him. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” he huffed, swiveling to catch the shutting door with his foot before leaning down to retrieve something from behind it.

Still, his muffled voice echoed beyond the subsequent shuffling.

“You’re assisting tonight, and I want high bids. So get out there and make them like you.”

You nodded complacently, already prepared to whip around and follow his orders until the older gentleman reemerged with another case of green bottles cradled under his arm.

“And here,” he shoved the crate, obliging you to catch it somewhat unexpectedly with opened palms.

“Take this to the bar.”

—

“I don’t like this…” Anakin droned during his casual stroll toward Obi-Wan’s side, a glass of orange fizzy liquid held inconspicuously before his lips.

Kenobi was leaning against the bar, his cup of whatever was on tap cradled between his fingers yet clearly untouched. Instead, the subtly troubled Jedi’s attentive eyes continued their periodic scan of the barely lit brothel. Flitting past the pockets of gold-illuminated tabled alcoves and dark blue paneling, his eyes weaved through the voluminous throng. One that featured intimately quiet mumblings among extravagantly suited clientele and gorgeously draped employees.

It wasn’t hard for him to surmise the highest paying customers from the number of brothel workers who’d hang from their arms, clearly on the job.

Smiling at each of their glances. Laughing at every joke…

Kenobi wasn’t daft.

He clearly understood the expectations a club like this had for its staff. At the least, for those who mingled with the bidders before the show. He’d only hoped that with whatever position you’d acquired for your cover at this establishment, it wasn’t pressing you to do much of the same.

And no matter how illogical it sounded in his mind, he still didn’t want to see that.

Moreover, it seemed to be a thought that equally disturbed Anakin, as his gentle thrums of anxious musing stained the Force, gradually amplifying since both Jedi had yet to locate you.

The younger Jedi had always been protective of you, Obi-Wan excused, unbeknownst that Skywalker was making much of the same defense. Though for the chestnut-haired Jedi, it was more the self-justification that he was a protective person in general. And that this was nothing more than only that.

Just Anakin being Anakin.

“I’m confident she’ll turn up soon, Anakin.”

The younger man expressly sighed, permitting a brief beat to pass as a spring of laughter ricocheted by his ears from a nearby dancer. Waiting for it to die down with bated breath before angling to respond.

“What if she didn’t get the job? She might be trying to find a different way in right now.”

Obi-Wan had no need for reaching out to the Force in order to confidently answer that inquiry.

“She succeeded. Trust me, I’d know otherwise.” He hummed, raising his glass to just barely grace his lips, but never daring to take a sip and weaken his awareness. “However, should they not show soon, I am considering they may have been apprehended.”

Similarly, Anakin vehemently shook his head. He even permitted a wry chuckle to escape past those formerly parched lips before confidently responding to the Jedi Master’s statement.

“No way. If Y/n got caught, she’d send us a signal the second she felt us near.”

Skywalker’s confident air faltered.

“Well,” he shrugged nervously. “Assuming she’s not injured.”

Obi-Wan shot his former Padawan a disapproving glare.

Until his attention was suddenly grasped by a warm, comforting hand sliding across his shoulder.

“Is this what you boys do when I’m not around? Theorize about my potential failings?”

The two men spun toward you, catching the playful smirk consuming your features before their eyes were tugged down like an anchor to trail your stunningly sheathed body, almost as if it was the first time they’d ever laid eyes upon you.

It would be an understatement to state that absorbing this captivating sight had coerced their jaws into forgetting their primary function.

The low-cut style of your short, curving red dress. The fishnet stockings that stretched down your thighs and softly clasped your high-heeled feet. The sparkling, green gemmed earrings that perfectly brought out your plump, red lipstick and long lashes. And, most noticeably, your loose, flowing hair that they’d only ever seen tied back for battle, now resting lushly across your bare shoulders like a still-life statue.

It wasn’t a side of you either men had the pleasure of observing before. And, if given the chance, they’d challenge whichever entity had so long sealed this wonderful sight from their burning eyes to a duel.

One that such an unjust creature was sure to regret.

It was a kind of fairy tale notion that both men pondered instantly once they felt a bubbling heat swarm their countenance when faced by your visual power.

So much so, that Anakin couldn’t help but break the brief lull as his suddenly dried mouth reached down his throat for an audible, and undoubtedly embarrassing, cough as he scratched his nose to try to hide himself.

Obi-Wan wasn’t coping much better. The Master Negotiator had lost all concept of Basic, its vocabulary, grammar, and everything in between as his mind was only filled with your enticing image, your pleasantly exposed skin, and the touch of your fingers to his body.

Until it was too soon gone.

Your hand fell thoughtlessly to your side, head cocking with lifted brows before speaking.

“You can close your mouths. It was just a joke.”

But it was Kenobi who first gathered the confidence to respond.

“Um, you look—“

“Lemme guess. Ravishing? The night’s main treat?” You relayed sarcastically while heaving down a large crate of clinking bottles atop the bar, one that both men only just now noticed before you whipped back toward the still stunned Jedi, drawing their gaze center.

“I’ll have it known that the distance between the storage room and the bar is a mere fifteen-second walk and I’ve already heard it all—“

“…like an angel,” Anakin muttered, not even himself realizing that he’d said that aloud.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly as you felt your heart skip a beat, sending an unexpected tingle to the root of your gut before sheepishly smiling at the deepening flush of the chestnut-haired man.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, tensely eyed his former Padawan.

“Okay, that one’s new,” you admitted, gaze trailing away to conceal your unpreparedness for such an unexpectedly sweet comment.

Ironically, it was at that moment that your wandering stare settling beyond Anakin’s shoulder abruptly caught a familiar, peppered beard. Accompanied by terse, beady eyes that scowled at you from a far wall with the intensity of a lodestar.

You had a decision to make.

But, really, was there a choice at all?

Obi-Wan would catch on, you thought.

Though, no matter how well Kenobi did understand the requirements of your cover, he still certainly wasn’t expecting you to, in a millisecond, swiftly stride toward his bewildered form to wrap your warm arms around his neck.

Immediately, despite the quickening of his thrumming heart latching onto his Adam’s apple, Obi-Wan raised his usually firm hands to gently clasp at your forearms, being sure to send you a questioning glance as he smoothly played along.

But under all that, and although he was still unsure why, deep down Kenobi secretly hoped that such a quizzical gesture hadn’t encouraged you to subsequently pull away. For some reason, he despised the thought of influencing you to forgo remaining this close to him.

So close, that he could feel the tickle of your breath across his chin.

Thankfully, though, his innermost prayer seemed to have been answered.

“Sorry,” you whispered, conveying an outwardly flirting expression of perked lips and a tilted head.

There were very few people in the Galaxy capable of reading the subtle apologetic shine of your eyes that deeply stared into his. An invisible utterance that remained firm while you briefly freed one hand to beckon over a confounded, and secretly peeved, Anakin who stood just behind his former Master, before you grasped his loose hand and tugged him forward with a terribly fake laugh.

Soon, you rested the younger Jedi’s arm on your lower back, securing its nervously flaccid form around your waist while Skywalker’s face transformed into a brand new shade of crimson once he discovered the dress’s open back.

A clearly readable reaction that deepened Kenobi’s hesitation with his former Padawan’s proximity to you. And while his mind struggled to connect the dots on why he continued to experience these strange bouts of discomfort, too distracted to truly pin down these sensations, Kenobi still felt fueled by Anakin’s expression to nudge you a little closer into his own chest.

If that was even possible.

Paying no mind to the sudden action, you addressed both men, giving a particular glance to Anakin who seemed to be the most caught off-guard of the two of them.

“The brothel’s owner made it very clear that if I don’t ’mingle’ with the customers, trouble will come my way.”

And that made the former slave’s blood boil.

“I’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t,” you punctuated, temporarily removing your other arm from Obi-Wan to privately rest on Anakin’s balmy cheeks, caressing them down to draw his eyes to your level as he too struggled to fight off the festering heart attack that threatened to crack his rib, and deepened the sudden feeling of emptiness in Kenobi’s chest. “Because we have one mission here, and it’s to retrieve those stolen crystals. And I’m not losing my chance to snatch them away due to your needless protectiveness. I’m quite capable on my own.”

“What do you mean?” Kenobi inquired, taking this opportunity to regain some realm of confidence before snaking his arms around your waist and tugging you toward him with a roughness that would easily read as greedy to anyone who happened to be looking that way.

Still, the unexpected suddenness of his movement set the nerves in your face on fire. No matter, you played into the act, falling into his chest with fingers gripping onto the lapels of his oddly sparkly jacket.

“Um,” you swallowed, regathering your thoughts with a blink. “I’m assisting tonight. Meaning that I’ll be showcasing each item while they’re bid upon.”

You hummed to yourself while considering this new stroke of luck. A sudden vibration against Obi-Wan’s chest that you hadn’t realized sent a fresh, nervous chill down his arms as he held your mystifying figure, encouraging subtly wandering eyes to drink in the sight once more while his unsteady heart began to churn his innermost thoughts.

It was in that same moment that Anakin first caught onto his former Master’s charade, having finally glimpsed an equal measure of voraciousness within his distracted, blue orbs. Something that stoked Anakin’s frustration that began anew with each moment Kenobi drew you closer to himself.

“I say we don’t waste the credits,” you commented, refocusing both Jedi’s attention. “The minute I have the crystals in hand, I’ll send you a signal, and we’ll dash out of here.”

Obi-Wan leaned into you, forehead mere centimeters from yours as a spoke lowly. And for some reason, you thought, with noticeably erratic breath.

“That’s extremely risky.”

“Well, you have my lightsaber. Don’t you?” You challenged with a lift of your lips.

Suddenly, a trail of warm fingers raked up into your hair, sending quite an unexpected chill down your back once they clutched around a bunch and somewhat needily rotated your head toward Anakin’s expectant face. Yanking your body more forcefully before soon feeling his strong arm catch your side.

“I have it,” he spoke lowly.

And in spite of how desperately he tried to keep his eyes connected with yours, he couldn’t help that split second in which they sparsely flitted toward your perfectly tinted lips.

An action you apparently missed for your focus on the mission at hand.

But a gesture that contorted Obi-Wan’s lips into a perpetual frown as his mind caught up with his frothing feelings.

“Good,” you expressed. “Then I’ll have it when it’s needed.”

While your eyes remained focused and thoughtful, half a mind on playing up your cover with the other half on those crystals, Anakin had trouble keeping his eyes from once more wandering downwards.

The feel of your red-draped body against his, the closeness of your bared upper chest and noticeable cleavage, the sparkle of your eyes that comparably made your bright earrings look like clumps of coal.

Though not fully, Anakin was beginning to understand what was going on in his chest to draw his signature into such a volatile temper. Mostly because he couldn’t help himself when one hand released from your soft hair to trail down your exposed back, the other palm brushing upwards from your flank to meet the other side as he briefly traced the outline of your shoulder blades.

All of which sent a lightning bolt of cold heat right up to your head and down toward your sensitively tingling toes before he inched you toward him with the press of his fingertips while he whispered.

“Obi-Wan is right. I don’t think we should take the risk. But just in case you need it…”

Slowly, he retrieved a hand, raking it over your shoulder and feeling every inch of your arm while his mind cleared. The chestnut-haired man’s swelling eyes traced the enticing experience until he reached your hand. And with feigned gravitas clouding his features, he carefully guided your hand beneath his suit jacket, dragging it just along his warm back until you felt a cold metal resting beside his tailbone.

“…you know where it is.”

What was happening?

That was the main question you were asking yourself.

Were both Obi-Wan and Anakin just really amazing actors when the moment required it? You’d certainly never seen such a talent from either of them before. Yet the sudden naturalness, the near familiarity with which each Jedi pulled and held you close? The intimate touches and long glances while this secret meeting proceeded?

You weren’t sure what changed between twenty hours ago and now. Yet, in your core, you knew a part of your brain didn’t want it to stop.

No.

You were a Jedi. You were all Jedi. Committed to a code.

You must’ve been reading this wrong. Feelings that you knew you’d long held for the men had once again clouded your judgment.

Meanwhile, the growing tension between the two Jedi had heightened to a noticeable degree. But with your mind focused seemingly on other matters, it was only just to each other.

“You? Not wanting to be reckless?” You stated, attempting to suffocate your rushing nerves with a confident smirk. “Are you sure I’m speaking with Anakin Skywalker or do we have an imposter in our midsts?” You chuckled. “Oh, and agreeing with Obi-Wan?” You added, raising a brow.

This time, it was Master Kenobi who felt a fire erupt through his veins while his thoughts solidified.

It was you.

You who were making him feel such a way.

Ever and always.

On every mission and in each universal moment, it was you who made the Jedi Master take pause as his heart skipped a beat in your presence.

Master Kenobi was even more firm in this belief: that he was quite finished with watching Anakin cradle you in his arms for any longer. That, and the growing desire fueled by this new angle permitting Obi-Wan to graze over your open back’s supple skin with his eyes, drained him of all his decades-long self-control in an instant.

He needed to do something about that

Reaching a warm hand to the closest corner of your waistline, and with a little nudge from the Force on the other side, Obi-Wan tugged you right into his arms.

You felt the imperceptible, tiny scratches of his sequined suit jacket and the heat barely underneath sprawl across your back while his palms meandered up your sides and down each arm, soon folding them across you as he enveloped you against himself.

This time, you truly couldn’t help the light, crimson blush that bloomed across your cheeks. Especially when Kenobi chose this opportune time to gradually lean into your shoulder, chin dipping so that his lips hung mere centimeters from your attentive ear before whispering a warning with a tone warmer than you were used to hearing from the Master Negotiator.

Especially in the middle of a mission.

“You should listen to him.”

Still, despite feeling the ravenous desire to take a calming breath and smooth your hammering heartbeat, you held firm, responding to his inquiry with an overpowering confidence that usually settled any score when the three of you were having a disagreement.

At the same time, having just noticed the brothel owner’s decision to push off his far wall perch to approach, you decided to also strike a grin, raising a flirtatious brow over your shoulder at Obi-Wan’s unreadably dark eyes while you spoke, maintaining your cover.

“No. The plan stands. Trust me, there’s no need to worry.”

But, unexpectedly for you, witnessing your visually claimed figure in Obi-Wan’s arms barking out orders all while clad in that tiny red dress ignited a fierce burning passion in Anakin to challenge you back as he too decided to make his thoughts known.

Through his words and with his hands.

Taking one powerful stride to stand directly before your toes, the younger man just barely graced your bottom lip to seize your chin, lifting it upwards and twisting you to meet his wanting, blue gaze. Compelling your bright, widening eyes to wonder once more whether the lines between fiction and reality were beginning to blur.

Your breath hitched.

“Gentlemen!” The owner exclaimed, sliding next to Obi-Wan and Anakin to place a performative pat on both their shoulders. “I’m glad you’re enjoying one of our new hires, but I’m afraid that I’ll need to borrow her for the rest of the auction. We are about to begin.”

Wordlessly, both Jedi released their respective grips on you, sharing between themselves an unamused glance above your head while you ambled toward the owner. Never breaking your own, painfully forged smile.

But that seemed to be enough to convince the quite older owner that all was set to begin, as he swiftly turned on his heel toward the brothel’s far podium, motioning for you to follow his trail.

You promptly obliged, yet not before sending one quick, yet quiet, last word with a twist of your head toward the Jedi who begrudgingly stayed behind with crossed arms or a clenched beard.

“Wait for my signal.”

—

“I’m not stupid, you know,” Anakin commented idling by Kenobi’s side.

The two men continued their observations of the auction since it began half an hour ago, their eyes rarely drifting away from the rather cramped, rickety stage while you traveled from side to side, displaying each item with deliciously attractive poise. Presently, you were exhibiting an old, handheld marble statue modeled after a female Twi’lek. And although other patrons regarded the item with interest, the two Jedi meant to be watching your back for any danger had their minds on other matters.

Anakin couldn’t keep his eyes off your sensually pacing legs, while Obi-Wan could barely remain still with your elegant, tightly wrapped hips moving to and fro.

“I hear 2,000 credits! 2,000 credits. Do I hear 2,100?”

Master Kenobi readjusted his shoulders somewhat uncomfortably. “I know. I don’t believe I’ve said otherwise.”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you want Y/n.”

The bearded Jedi whipped his head from the stage as he addressed the seemingly jealous, younger man. And for the first time in a very long time, Obi-Wan began to feel those same, envious emotions with equal strength, like he’d caught some psychic disease from the blue-eyed Jedi’s glance alone.

“2,100! Do I hear 2,200? 2,200 folks, for this ancient artifact of an unknown Ryloth civilization!”

“And?” He acknowledged nonchalantly, taking an assertive stance while he found comfort in the memory of you in his arms. “And what if I do?”

Anakin’s lips formed a thin line, the image of your parted, shocked lips when he caught your dressed figure perfuming his thoughts. “Then you wouldn’t be alone.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kenobi stated sarcastically before raising a rather annoyed brow.

“Going once! Going twice!”

“What are you gonna do?” Anakin mumbled.

Skywalker had to ask the question. Even though he’d already confirmed in his mind that no matter what, no matter if Master Kenobi felt the same, that he’d give you the chance of knowing that there was more than one.

Obi-Wan answered simply. “I’m planning on telling her.”

“Sold! To the fellow in the orange top hat on the right!”

Because through the older Jedi’s musings, Kenobi was arriving at a similar conclusion. That if you in any way felt the same, he’d at least give you a choice.

“I assume you’ll be doing the same?” He continued.

“Yes.” Anakin sighed, eyes returning to the stage just as you remerged with an old, raggedy yet sealed box held tightly in your hands. “And what if she can’t decide?”

Obi-Wan followed the young Jedi’s line of sight, subconsciously licking his lips as the fabric of your tight, red dress pulsed his blood and slackened his jaw.

“Then we do what we must…”

The bearded Jedi swallowed.

Hard.

“…we help her.”

A rallying spark flung through the Force, filling both Jedi’s senses as they were wrenched from the momentary, visual distraction that was your ravishingly dressed person.

There was no way to deny it. Your pointed expression? Your readied stance?

The signal had just been fired.

Reaching for their respective lightsabers hung inconspicuously at the belt, both Jedi swiftly whipped their weapons out into the open, igniting a collective blue glow that provided enough of a shockingly, eye-catching distraction for you to leap from the stage, box in hand, without much recourse.

Then came the blasters.

As if emerging like shadows from the establishment’s dark corners, a sporadic group of armed men dressed like well-to-do pirates began their determined assault. Coloring the air with orange beams while the crowd scattered, hurried screams and the groans of abruptly shuffling furniture echoing off the walls.

You bolted for the Jedi, triggering both to somersault toward you while they attempted to block any bolt that you nearly failed to dodge before landing at either flank. Thankfully, that provided the chance to fling a searching arm beneath Anakin’s suit jacket, grasping your saber from its warm habitat before yanking it out into the open to launch its green luminescence.

“Go!” Obi-Wan cried, deflecting another round of bolts from your rear while the two men encircled you like a living, breathing barrier.

“We’ll hold them off!” Anakin agreed, flinging a badly aimed bolt toward a now broken and sparking light fixture above before facing you. “Get back to the ship!”

You glanced at both men, making clear your uncertainty and reluctance through the Force as, even with your aid, the gentle perspires of their efforts became noticeable.

But it was their turn to stay firm.

“Now! We’ll be right behind you!” Obi-Wan strictly assured.

So, with the box of crystals secured tightly beneath one arm and your saber effectively defending against the coming onslaught with the other, you decided to, for once, follow the boys’ instructions as you bolted for the exit, and out the brothel’s door.

And, with their hearts already racing, both Jedi had to do their best not to focus on your distracting wears as they paved a path to race after you.

—

Leaping through the red and white Nu-class shuttle’s rear hatch the instant it opened wide enough to do so was enough to coerce out an instant sigh of relief as your feet landed on the metal floor, drawing you deeper into the bird’s belly. Naturally, after regaining some bearings in the familiarity of the ship, you felt secure enough to set the relatively sturdy box of Kyber crystals atop a nearby ledge before turning to assess the situation behind you.

You already sensed that Anakin and Obi-Wan had stuck close to your heels during the entire escape, sabers twirling with elegant control against any threatening phaser until you strayed far enough beyond the brothel’s preview to lose any potential tails. So you weren’t surprised to find both men maintaining a similarly brisk pace while speeding up the ramp seconds after your arrival. Sabers long ago clipped back at their sides with Obi-Wan leading the way, leaving Skywalker in charge of closing the now slowly rising hatch.

What you weren’t expecting, however, was that the overpowering determination emanating from the bearded Jedi’s face had not in the least bit lessened since he entered the craft. Quickly, yet smoothly, he shed his gaudy suit jacket, tossing it unceremoniously to the side as he subsisted his approach.

In fact, the slight narrowing of those blue eyes, an expression you’d only seen in the occasional sparring session, remained forwardly focused. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was charging right for you, an action itself that compelled you to perplexedly speak while his brown boots closed that ever-shrinking distance.

“What are you—“

Warm lips smashed against yours, moving hungrily yet delicately while Obi-Wan’s sturdy arms snaked around your waist to gently tug you into himself.

Your heart nearly stopped, and from the tingling, tiny explosions erupting at each and every nerve ending alone, you felt yourself fall into the momentum, arms raising with the certainty of a choreographed dance to cradle Obi-Wan’s head and run your fingers through his soft, auburn locks.

Whether consciously or not, his grip on you tightened, straining your breath before you had the unavoidable need to be even closer to him. You intensified the kiss, drawing his plump, reddened lips into slow and steady locks, only for them to release with the duration of a clap before you both deeply met each other again with needy swiftness.

It felt like hours, but it had been mere seconds since the instant his body met yours. Still, the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other. Mostly to catch much-needed breaths from the pure, unadulterated shock of it all.

Master Kenobi held you still as your gaze graced over his flushed features, including that slightly tussled hair and darkened eyes that diverted from their usual bright sparkle. Especially when they flitted from your surprised orbs, to your plump lips, and back again.

But no matter this pleasing diversion, still, out of the corner of your eye, you were forced to notice Anakin— standing in the far corner in quiet observation, and chillingly reminding you of where you were and what important rules both you and his former Master had certainly just broken in his presence.

What made it all worse, though, was that for the life of you, you could not read the younger man’s expression. Apparently, he had just stood there, arms crossed once the shuttle door was secured and simply… watched? Impassively?

No, that couldn’t be right.

Then, he pushed off the wall.

Anakin’s arms fell to the side as he gradually approached you both, brows tightening into what looked like a slightly angrier cross that ran your brain into overdrive. You were still having trouble discerning his emotions through the Force, but could only make an educated guess that he was beyond frustrated that the two beings closest to him had just broken the Jedi Code.

And, also because, he didn’t seem to have any particular reaction to what Obi-Wan did, making you sadly doubt that he’d ever feel the same way you’d always felt for the chestnut-haired man and his former Master.

So, no matter how right it felt, how much you wanted it, you knew that it was time for some damage control.

“Obi-Wan…” you took a deep, shaky breath, nerves still firing at every end while your stare stood firmly on Obi-Wan’s wanting expression, Anakin nearing your side.

You loosely exhaled.

“Where did that—“

Hot moisture met your neck, Anakin’s wet lips attacking its side and extracting a startled gasp from your lungs as your eyes fluttered closed. Greedily, he cupped your throat to softy tug you toward him, draining your arms into a state of perpetual pliability from the pleasant heat filling your chest.

They slid, soon falling from Obi-Wan’s body entirely before you angled toward the younger Jedi and shakily twisted them around his shoulders for support. Another weak sigh escaped past your lips once you felt Anakin’s teeth graze across a sensitive spot as the weakening kisses continued, an action which only seemed to encourage the younger Jedi considering he returned to that spot with more fervor, sucking it dry until your jaw slackened.

Still, no matter how dazed your mind had become in this last minute of chaos, you just couldn’t believe this was happening.

It had to be a mistake, right? Was something else wrong?

Something must have happened.

Regathering your senses, you quickly pulled away from Anakin, feeling the resistance of your initial jerk snap Anakin from his equally influenced status as he quickly tried to give you space.

“Are you ok??” He asked rapidly, eyes seeping wide-eyed worry and flickers of guilt while Obi-Wan, who was initially calmly analyzing the show, too shifted to share a similarly concerned expression.

“Yes, of course,” you aired, still slightly out of breath as you stared confoundedly at the two men. “I’m fine Anakin, but what is going on? This is coming out of nowhere.” You shook your head. “Were the two of you drugged or something?”

“In a sense, I suppose we were,” Obi-Wan answered nonchalantly.

You raised a brow.

“Y/n,” Anakin uttered, drawing your eyes toward his. “Obi-Wan and I realized something back there during the mission. Something it looks like we both kinda knew for a while but didn’t really understand until now.”

Master Kenobi’s eyes raked across your figure once more while he spoke. “I saw you there, we saw you, truly, for the first time. And I lost my breath.”

You melted at his words.

“All I saw was pure beauty and you, and I couldn’t tell the difference,” Anakin spoke disjointedly, nearly making you giggle. “And I knew that seeing you like this, in this way, I couldn’t wait any longer. We couldn’t wait. We needed to tell you.”

“Tell me?” You asked breathily, preparing yourself for whatever was to come next.

“That we desire you,” Obi-Wan barely whispered, fluttering your stomach. “That you are more important to us than ancient statutes. And we determined that you must know so that you may decide if you wish it.”

You shuttered, worries of the Code fading into nothingness while the two men before you consumed your senses. “Decide?”

Anakin stared at you, a pleading glint in his eyes as he spoke gently.

“Which one of us you want back.”

Your still heavy breaths punctuated the otherwise quiet air. Characteristic of the thoughts rattling against your buzzed skull before a throaty mutter made its way past your teeth.

“I can’t…”

You watched while their faces deflated at your words.

“We understand, Y/n,” Obi-Wan spoke, a subtle sadness drooping his tone. “It’s quite alright—“

“No,” you corrected quickly. “No, I can’t decide.”

Anakin’s brows quirked at this, head tilting as curiosity subdued his brief listlessness.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You sighed heavily, eyes drifting to the floor with an unaccustomed quiver. “I mean, I can’t decide because… because…”

You bit your lip.

“I want you both.”

Raising your head, you carefully observed the two men, bodies as still as statues while their swollen eyes held firmly on your figure. Anakin nurturing a steadily expanding, devious grin while he quietly flexed a fist, and Obi-Wan, faintly flicking his tongue across his top lip in an effort to carefully drink in your figure.

A pleasant chill ran down your spine.

“Is that alright?” You whispered.

Anakin chuckled incredulously, cueing Obi-Wan to respond to that inquiry.

“Darling,” he murmured, insatiable eyes sucking you barren as the nickname sent a new round of tingles down your legs. “That stretches far beyond ‘alright.’”

“How do you want us?” Anakin posed, tone nearing a growl.

Unfiltered, you spoke your mind.

“As close as possible.”

And the Jedi obliged.

________________________________________________________________

Should I do a part 2 at some point? Let me know :)

[simpleeindulge]

It's a Work in Progress

Context: This takes place after a few months of Law setting sail for the first time with Shachi, Bepo, and Penguin. They are a new pirate crew finding their way to the Grand Line. Desperate for funds, Law’s crew resort to kidnapping.

Info: fem/readerxLaw, kidnapping, 1st time meeting, slow-burn romance, multiple parts, cursing, mild threats of violence.

Chapter 1

Ch 2. And You Are…?

Law’s eye visibly twitched at the woman’s words. Of all the things she could have said, she chose to threaten him? Was she that spoiled and stupid?

“I take that you are not a princess.”

“No, I am not.” The woman confirmed sternly and did not offer any other information.

Law internally groaned. From her posture to her eyes and facial expression, he could tell that she was going to make every step of this blasted kidnapping difficult. I should get it over with and throw her into the ocean.

His grey eyes looked her over, taking in her elaborate dress and jewelry.

"But you are a noble."

"Obviously." She quipped. "And you are?"

Her eyes scanned him over exactly as he had done to her, and without tipping her head, she was somehow looking down at him despite being shorter!

"Your captor, that's who, so drop the snobbery. You just went from valuable to basic goods."

"Basic." She repeated with the corner of her lip turned out in amusement.

"That's right," Law smirked back at her. "You're just another noble girl who's full of herself. We could go to any kingdom and find clones of you. The only thing that separates you is how much your family will pay for your return."

The girl then giggled and laughed outright. Penguin and Shachi glanced at each other and then at Law, who was equally perplexed.

She stopped laughing and let out a long sigh.

"You see, that's where you're wrong, Mr. Nobody."

Law's brow twitched. Definitely going to toss her in the ocean. No amount of money is worth her snark!

"My name is Trafalgar Law." He gritted out.

"As I said, a nobody."

Law made to move, but Shachi stepped in quickly.

"Hey now, aren't you a bit cocky for someone being held active by pirates?" He said with a light laugh, though he didn't know why; it must have been the tension between Law and the woman.

She didn't bother looking in Shachi's direction as she spoke in a sweet tone that dripped with condensation.

"Yes, rookie pirates with the most original idea of capturing a princess. Such a basic plan, and your crew couldn't pull it off."

Law growled and looked at Bepo. “Toss her overboard!”

Bepo gaped, and Shachi and Penguin begged Law to rethink his plan. The woman only looked slightly nervous which made him smirk. He was about to repeat his orders when the ship suddenly jolted.

Bepo steadied the woman as she grabbed for him. Before anyone could ask, the ship rocked again, and one of the newest crew members rushed to the doorway.

“Captain! The Royal fleet! They're shooting at us!”

Law looked visibly surprised. Why would a Royal fleet come after them instead of the Navy or Marines over a regular noble? Law then realized his mistake and snapped his head to the woman. He made an assumption before getting more information. A mistake he would have never made before! Damn this woman!

“Who are you?!”

“Lady Y/N Dávila, third cousin to the crown princess, twice removed from her mother’s side.”

She said simply.

The ship rocked again but this time an explosion was heard. Law shouted orders to his men to move the Polar Tang. Law was about to walk past Y/N when he stopped and glared at her.

“I guess I won't be throwing you overboard.”

“Does this mean I became valuable?”

She batted her lashes at Law and he scoffed.

“Hardly.”

He was about to leave the room when he thought of what she had first said.

“What did you mean by, ‘You fucked with the wrong noble family’?”

“Oh, that,” she replied with a laugh. “My father is in charge of the Royal fleet and is…insane.”

Law did not like the way Y/n said that last bit without any arrogance or pride. She even paled a tad at the thought of her father’s mental state.

“You should probably direct your men to do something. Father will probably sink us in an attempt to rescue me. He can get carried away.”

Now she looked nervous and gasped as the ship rocked again, obviously taking another hit. Bepo kept her on her feet once more and Law snapped his attention to him.

“Bepo! Go navigate the ship to a safe location. We need to move and dive before we take any more damage.”

“Yes, Captain!” Bepo cried and immediately left the room.

Y/n watched Bepo leave and then eyed Law carefully. They were alone in the room but she didn't for a second that it increased her chances of escape. She tried to stand straight but the ship rocked once more as it moved while being under attack.

Her hands were still tied before her, so Y/n had to widen her stance under her gown to keep her balance. Her heels didn't help, and she cursed her lady’s maid for not letting her wear the ankle boots. The dress was so long and wide that no one would have noticed.

It felt ridiculous to sway around in a ball gown while trying to put on a brave face. Because she was afraid, terrified. They didn't cover Pirate Abduction 101 in her studies. Discussing pirates as a young unmarried lady wasn't even proper, though they all did it behind their matriarch's back.

The truth was that Y/N had heard of a new rookie pirate named Trafalgar Law. Some nasty rumors surrounded him, and now she was alone in a room with him.

I just had to get plucky with him! Mother always said my rash behavior would get the best of me.

She nervously grinned at the thought, considering that her father might drown her first.

"I wouldn't be so confidant, if I were you."

Y/n glanced up and blinked in surprise. Law was right in front of her. He pushed her, but she made a slight sound as she fell back into an armed chair. Was that chair there before?

Law put his hands on the armrest and leaned in close. His eyes held her captive as she sat with her back pressed. She had to work to breathe and made the mistake of letting her mask of indifference and superiority fall. Like blood in the water, Law smelled her fear and was ready to strike.

"Tell me, if I hand you over right now will your lunatic of a father cease his attack?"

Y/N shook her head. She could hear cannonballs flying and hitting the water around them.

"And if I hulled you on deck and showed you to him?"

Y/N laughed nervously. "That would be like baiting a starving dog. He'll probably aim a shot at you and hope that I survive."

Law growled and slammed his hand down. He knew she wasn't lying because every shot made at the Polar Tang was meant to sink it. An insane but effective tactic. Part of the new repairs made to the ship were already damaged again!

"If I may," Y/n offered carefully. "I might be able to help get us away from my father's bold rescue attempt."

Law stared her down, and Y/n didn't wait for his approval as she explained her plan.

Chapter 3

[katsukismrs]

i wish i were heather.

platonic!katsuki bakugou x reader

a/n: if you can’t tell i’m not in the best mental state rn💀 inspired by Heather by Conan Gray. this isn’t my best piece but meh

warnings: y/n ran away from home due to abusive family, was left out a lot by friends, bakugou’s sort of the exception???

—

“You’re rich, Y/N! Literally if i were you, i’d be spending money everywhere!” Denki exclaimed in disappointment “And you don’t do anything with your money!”

“That’s called not being wise with money, Kaminari!” Ida disagreed wholeheartedly with Denki’s statement. “Y/N’s being completely reasonable with her money.”

Truth is, it isn’t that you can’t find a reason to spend your money, you donate to charity each month and take yourself and friends on shopping sprees. It’s just that the money feels.. empty. It has always been.

It was widely known that you spent the last years of your childhood and your first years of being a teenager in an orphanage, since you strongly disapproved of going back to that hell of a place your family calls home. You were 10 when you ran away from there, the day that marked your freedom.

But you can’t help but feel.. lonely.

Walking around in parks, malls, or any open space makes you see the life you can only dream of having. Children being pampered and loved by their parents can only make you feel like your skin doesn’t fit right over your bones, makes your legs eager to run somewhere far away to scream.

And unfortunately that has gotten to your UA classmates, too. Seeing Midoriya with his mother, seeing Bakugou with his parents, seeing everyone living the life you could never have. But they want to be you. It’s stupid to think about how they’ll trade a life full of security, love, support and happiness for having money and fame. but the grass on the other side is always greener, isn’t it?

There’s a side of you, that envies your classmates so much it could kill them, kill them for the life they potentially stole from you, but you know that isn’t the case and never will be.

And it isn’t with those in UA, either. But all your friends have something in common: they leave you, just like your parents did, just like everyone will.

Your friends left you for others, your best friends were never ‘forever’ as they say, and you hated that, and you hated yourself for it.

—

You sit in Katsuki’s dorm.

In silence.

With your thoughts. Disgusting, disgusting thoughts.

“I wish i were you, or anybody else.” You abruptly spoke.

“Hm?” He looked at you, perplexed. “What’d ya say?”

“i don’t want to be myself anymore.” you spoke.

“Who do you wanna be then? me?” He joked.

“I want to be anybody else but me.”

He turned to face you. “Because?”

“Everyone thinks i have it perfect because i have money.”

Katsuki stared at you, waiting for you to get to your point.

“But rectangular pieces of paper can’t love like a human can.” you spoke with a monotonous tone.

He waited for you to get to your point, staying silent.

I wish i were Jiro, who has supportive parents.

I wish i were Ochako, whom regardless of financial situation, her parents still love her anyways.

I wish i were Ida, whose brother adores him.

I wish i were Mina, who can make friends anywhere and everywhere.

I wish i were Kirishima, able to make friends stay.

I wish i were Shoto, whose father is trying to make up for the damage he caused him.

But all you can muster out is “I don’t want to be myself, i don’t want to be here as me, i want to be someone else, anybody.”

Katsuki looked at you. “You think you can have it your way every time in life, huh?” He laughed.

You looked up at him, tears threatening to fall as your throat begins tying itself into a knot.

Katsuki sighed “Listen, I’m not the type to come to for this verbal shit, but you’re pretty fuckin’ awesome as is.”

You didn’t believe him, you couldn’t believe him.

but maybe you could someday, but for now?

you wish you were Heather, or someone else who isn’t you.

—

[cantsayidont]

The thing I find most perplexing about the PICARD show — and I am going to say upfront here that I have not made any attempt to investigate any of the behind-the-scenes stuff or even paid any particular attention to the writing credits — is that judging by the end product, it really looks like there were significant differences between what was pitched, what was originally written, and what actually ended up on the screen. In fact, it seems like there were at least two, possibly three big changes in direction along the way.

@procrastinatorproject remarked (and I'm going to quote rather than reblog the reblog, to avoid making an unreadably long chain):

They spend a lot of time in the early episodes deconstructing Picard, the Great Captain. They make it abundantly clear that his typical MO of Giving A Great Speech and centering himself and his morality and his worth and self-sacrifice isn't a sustainable, useful way to solve problems. (See: threatening to resign in protest, tearing down the "No Humans" sign on Vashti and acting like he knows how to combat entranched racial divisions in a place he hasn't been to in almost 20 years, etc.) This is made clear repeatedly and I thought it was a really interesting and brave deconstruction of this Great Captain Narrative that we got especially in TNG (with the occasional nuance, yes, but still this at its core). And then they drop the ball on that when in the final episode, Picard saves the day by Making A Great Speech and cerntering himself by offering to sacrifice his life.

I'll go a step further than this: The strong impression I got from the first seven or eight episodes of PICARD S1 is that the first season was likely intended as a miniseries, and that it was originally pitched not simply as a deconstruction of the character, but as "The Death of Jean-Luc Picard." PICARD-era Picard is not a particularly young man even for the 24th century (he's 94 years old), and we're told early on that he's dying of a rare degenerative disease for which there is no cure. His choices have had serious consequences: He's burned bridges with most of his friends and colleagues, his last Grand Gesture was a disaster that cost him the last of his credibility with Starfleet (and destroyed Raffi's career, something the show never really has Picard even acknowledge), and he's isolated himself in bitter disillusionment. His former shipmates are no longer around to help him, and the people he recruits are not nearly so tolerant of his bullshit. The entire premise of the show suggests that this is Picard's last chance and his last ride — and I think probably the final curtain for the TNG cast as well. (The fact that the first season is set in the last year of the 24th century also seems significant in this respect.)

I also suspect that this was what lured Patrick Stewart back to the role; I think they probably told him, "Look, this is going to be Picard's King Lear — it's not going to be just another sci-fi action potboiler, it'll be a big Shakespearean tragedy that will really let you go out with some gravitas." (What actor would say no to that?)

The problem, of course, is that while this is interesting, it makes for a pretty bitter pill for the audience. I've never particularly liked TNG, and my emotional attachment to the characters is limited, but I can't see that this is what most fans would have hoped to see for Picard: He's all alone, sulking on his family estate with his Romulan servants (another pseudo-Shakespearean gesture, I thought, though incongruous for STAR TREK's alleged post-scarcity socialist utopia); Beverly is ominously MIA; he hasn't talked to Will and Deanna in so long he doesn't know they have a 12-year-old daughter (and when he finally goes to see them in Ep. 7, by far the best of the series, Deanna very justifiably reads him for filth); and his relationship with Geordi and Worf is apparently cordial but distant. He's a sour, unhappy old man whom Starfleet Command sees as a self-righteous crank who's outlived any usefulness or relevance. Even without getting into the other ways the story takes Picard apart, that's pretty grim, and when he sets out with the other new characters on what's clearly suggested as his final quest, it's plain that he's probably not going home again.

The way the final episodes of S1 try to dial this back is SO jarring and so unsatisfying that it really doesn't seem like it was the way it was intended to end at all. What it feels like is like someone higher up at CBS came in after the show was already well along in production and said, "Wait, what are you doing? You can't kill off Picard! How are we supposed to have a Season 2? And where are all the other iconic STAR TREK characters?" There's every indication that the finale was hastily rewritten very late in the game, after much of the shooting was either underway or already completed.

So, rather than bringing the tragedy to an organic conclusion, we get an incredibly stupid cop-out finale that's still a downer without even offering a satisfying resolution. It's hard to say which part is more frustrating: Picard's big death scene surrounded by people who barely know him (and who up to that point didn't even like him that much); the incongruous arrival of the Starfleet "cavalry," riding to the rescue in a way we were previously shown (repeatedly!) wasn't going to happen; immediately undoing Picard's death in a very uneasy way (making him a synth, something the rest of the series then has to tiptoe around); or attempting to contrive an emotional climax with Data arguing for his right to die — despite the fact that the character had in fact been dead for 20 years. While we're keeping score, I was also irritated by the way the finale vilified the Romulans; the Romulans' response to the situation was a little heavy-handed, but the thing they were afraid of was very real, and the only reason it was averted was that the synths at least temporarily decided to table the impending "intergalactic robot genocide" they were preparing to kick off.

How the season — and, perhaps, the show — was originally supposed to end, or whether whatever was originally planned would have been any better, I don't claim to know, but I really suspect it was supposed to be different. (To @procrastinatorproject's other point, I don't know that the critiques the earlier episodes made of Starfleet and the Federation necessarily had any resolution or direction in mind; if PICARD was really intended to bring down the curtain on the TNG era, a lot of it might well have been left unresolved with the expectation that subsequent projects were going to move on to later eras, like the "post-Burn" future of DISCOVERY, where what happened with the late 24th century Federation could either be shrugged off as no longer relevant or used to set up other plot developments, as seemed most useful.)

I actually liked S2 much better overall: The stuff with Picard's mother is extremely clunky and never lands emotionally, the attempt to suggest a Picard-Laris romance is just uncomfortable (poor Orla Brady!), and there are aspects of the plot that aren't very satisfying, but there's also a lot that's fun. It has some nice moments for Jeri Ryan ("I am NOT the worst driver here!"), the scenes with Seven and Raffi are great, Agnes' ill-fated hookup with the Borg Queen actually breaks some new ground with STAR TREK's dullest villains (which S3 then walked back), tying up Picard's friendship with Guinan was nice, and I didn't even mind the unexpected Wesley Crusher cameo. Its biggest problems are that it doesn't really fit: The tonal shifts from S1 are jarring; it doesn't bother to resolve any of the critiques or dangling story threads from the first season; and for all its attempts to tie in more STAR TREK lore, the obvious question, from viewers as well as probably CBS, remains, "Why is Picard still hanging around with these (mostly) new characters he barely knows rather than the other beloved TNG characters?"

So, S3 changes course again, finally doing the "getting the gang back together" nostalgia plot that the network and a lot of fans expected in the first place. That by itself might have been fine, but it has to go out of its way to reverse a lot of the major developments of the first two seasons (resurrecting Data to kill him off and then having to contrive a way to resurrect him again really beggars the word "clumsy"), and the plot rambles and wanders in the middle in incoherent ways that left me unsure if it's just badly written or there was ANOTHER word-from-on-high change in direction during production. The hilariously stupid Big Rock Finish isn't even much of a finale, since they obviously decided they didn't want to completely close the door on Picard and company after all.

There's evidence of this kind of thing in the other shows as well. LOWER DECKS, for instance, sets up several new characters at the end of S2, but then basically abandons all of its ongoing character threads for the entirety of the very weak S3, which is full of pointless guest appearances and cameos that don't amount to anything even on a sitcom level, before trying to pick up the abandoned story threads in S4. DISCOVERY, of course, then does its big and rather jarring era shift after setting up STRANGE NEW WORLDS as a spinoff. The idea of establishing a new era chronologically later than TNG makes sense, and would have been a natural step if PICARD had really been the finale of the TNG era, but going from "It's a TOS prequel!" to "It's set 900 years after TNG!" in midstream is weird, and I have to wonder if that's what they originally intended.

Obviously, one doesn't have to strain too hard to see why CBS has decided that it's safer to lean on nostalgia, but the disjointed progression of it makes me think that there were more creatively ambitious (not to say necessarily better) plans that have repeatedly changed, and how each of these shows has wrapped up seems to be materially different from how they began, in ways that are often very odd as well as unsatisfying.

[hdhdgsgs]

Hi Hi! Idk how I ended up here lol (maybe through Bard’s page?? idk) anyway! I see that you’re writing for Osomatsu San right now! Would I be able to request your headcanons on every matsu comforting their crying significant other? Pleeeeease? lol I love the comfy stuff

First post back from writers block/burn out, I know some aren’t as long as others and I’m sorry it’s not consistent but I love the idea!

Osomatsu

For a little bit after you start crying he’s stunned, he’s not sure what to do. He’s comforted his brothers before but they’re his brothers, you’re a whole different person that he hasn’t learnt his whole life to comfort.

He’ll pay your back first then offer an awkward hug that turns into cuddling and crying into him with him rubbing the back of your hair and saying how you’ll be ok, kissing your head every now and then.

If you don’t want to be physically touched he’ll just tell you it’ll be okay and that he’ll listen if you need to talk, just constant sweet talking and he’ll throw in a little flirting or joking around if he feels like it’ll make you feel better.

He’ll even offer his beer or to eat instant ramen with him, he might even ‘force’ (ask) his mother to make him and you something, to which she would say yes and comfort you as much as she could and as she’s raised 6 kids at the same time, she’s pretty good at it.

He’ll offer you sex, half-joking, but if you take him up on his offer he’d be delighted to help, whether that means fast and rough or slow and sweet. He’d totally even be willing to get none of the pleasure himself because he wants to make you feel good (and he’s a pervert), you deserve it after all.

Karamatsu

He’s read up on this a LOT before so he can understand and comfort his future partner. He loves you and asks before every little thing he does, if you want ANYTHING he’ll run all over Tokyo as fast as he can to get it for you. If his brothers are around he’ll either boss them into doing things for you or he’ll threaten them to stay as far away as possible so you can be in piece.

Affection needed? He’s ready, he’ll do anything to make you happy, even if it’s (not shaming anyone) kissing your feet. He’s ready, cuddles are elite and he’s petting you everywhere he knows you like, kisses galore and touching places he knows makes you giddy. At one point he thinks about tickling you to see you laugh but he decides against it after thinking for a minute.

For gifts and acts of service, he’ll go ALL over Tokyo, fuck, even Japan if he has to, all to make you happy. If he can’t afford he WILL beg, steal and take what he needs to. He will empty everyone he knows bank account, or maybe just hatabou’s cuz he’s rich.

You want words of affirmation? He’s got it, words sweeter than ever before come out of his mouth, comforting and reassuring you until his vocal cords stop working and still then he’ll write it all down. He won’t joke around until he knows you feel good enough, so he will test the waters, every now and then with little jokes before unleashing his attack of humour to make you laugh.

Quality time, no problemo. He’s sitting and laying and standing around, just being with you, if you don’t want to talk he won’t, he’ll give you tissues, water, a plush, ice cream and just sit with you. He isn’t used to not talking for so long but he will anything for his karamatsu angel.

Choromatsu

Worst one of all of them, but he’s trying his best. He will pat your back and say “it’s not that serious, you’ll be okay.” Please get mad at him… he isn’t hurt by it for the most part, he’s used to a lot worse by his brothers.

Eventually he’ll learn and get better but at the start he’s grossly bad for someone who reads romance manga on the daily. He might try things he sees there, affection and tissues/water but after a while he’ll honestly just sit next to you and stare into space. He’s perplexed.

If you ask him about getting something or doing something for you, he will be a dork and salute, immediately getting up to help. He might put on some idol shows on tv or try and distract you by putting together a figurine with you. Choromatsu would offer a beer or sake to cheer you up, since it always makes him feel better (even though that’s unhealthy). Some more of his ideas include forcing Totty to search up ways to help, making his brothers embarrass themselves to make you laugh or running around doing things for you (which they will do in the hope you might like them too because you were able to fall for Choromatsu, but they won’t make it that obvious). Cuddles are a thing choromatsu has always been hesitant about, meaning he has to be insanely vulnerable, but he’ll throw away all vain the second he sees you upset.

Ichimatsu

Panics but keeps it on the inside so you wont stress more. He decides to treat you the same way he treats cats, only knowing how to cheer them up. So he’ll buy you food or get it from his cupboards and pet your head. He’ll whisper sweet nothings in your ear while giving your head a massage (which he’s surprisingly good at) making sure to focus behind your ears and the top of your head. Ichimatsu loves getting kisses but he’s not too confident on giving them so he won’t kiss your lips for his own comfort but he will kiss everywhere else, up your arms, your neck, your face, your head, everywhere else however if you ask him directly he will buck up and give you a small kiss on the lips, followed by more as he gets more confident. Orders his brothers around if you need something since he’s giving you affection at the moment.

Sends out a cat signal(idk) and gets all the little fluffy bois in the area to come and cuddle up! (As a chubby girl myself) He WILL put you on his lap for cuddles, he doesn’t care about weight at all whether you’re underweight, average or overweight. He wants to hold his kitten no matter what. If you end up eating something he’ll physically feed you like a baby, feeling very protective.

Jyushimatsu

Cat eyes, thinking face. Stays like that for a few second then runs around grabbing everything he can think of. Blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, water, tissues, a baseball, snacks and one of his hoodies. He brings it all and offers them, setting up a calm little area and wiping your tears with his sleeves, finding it more intimate than tissues.

Jyushimatsu sings a little song while laying you back on his chest and rubbing your back. He’s very used to comforting Ichimatsu so if you don’t want to be held he’ll know exactly how to help, he might even ask ichimatsu to help him get a cuddly cat for you. Wiggles his arms and and does the water trick too, but if you don’t respond he’ll stop immediately. Sits next to you and writes a love letter, detailed with all his feelings for you, he puts it in an envelope, seals it and hands it to you like you couldn’t see the whole thing being made, he’s VERY bashful about it too. Jyushi will also make you drink water to rehydrate and whisper meow over and over again in a sing song voice because he knows it helps Ichimatsu so surely it’ll help you right? Just need a distraction? He’ll talk about baseball for hours, the history, his favourite players, the rules and how to play it.

Todomatsu

Best equipped to handle it, doesn’t go about it well. Todomatsu doesn’t, in fact, use his phone. He feels it would be gross to use his phone when his partner needs comfort, and he panics wanting them to know he loves them more than life itself but not knowing how. He pulls you into a tight hug, telling you it’s going to be okay and that he loves you. Todomatsu will run his hand up and down your back while the other one is in your hair massaging the back of your head. He will push away his feelings of discomfort for a second to grab his phone, putting on soft music to help you relax, including a playlist he made especially for when he got a partner and he needed to comfort them. If Totty even sees a glimpse of a brother in the corner of his eye, they will be gone as soon as possible to make you feel safer and calmer. He hums along while he tries to make you fall asleep in his arms, I’m all honesty Todomatsu will do ANYTHING for his partner, he won’t let you go a single day feeling sad or bad because he truly adores you more than anything in the whole universe.

[blissfulip]

Dopamine

on AO3

Viktor x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, dubious science, mostly canon compliant, no use of y/n, chemist!reader, eventual smut.

Cw: mentions of sexual themes, alcohol consumption

Words: 2k

[A/N: tags and content warnings to be updated in each chapter, updates weekly. (also, let me know if you want to be tagged in fic updates!)]

Previous Next

Chapter 3: Between rage and something else

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t nervous. Nervous didn’t even cut it at this point, you were dreading this meeting, and not even a pep talk from Moira (and her pep talks were known to be incredibly effective) helped get your usual confidence back. You scolded yourself the entirety of your walk there; how can you let someone as non threatening as Viktor shake your grounds so easily? It’s not like he would ever ‘win’ any of your fights, it’s not like…shake it off, you idiot. The voice in your head was correct, though. You never allowed him to make you flustered or visibly annoyed, but this recent excessive and prolonged contact with him had been proving to be much more than you could handle.

Nevertheless, the matter being official Academy business gave you no choice but to withstand his many attempts at slandering your work and being simply vexatious and arrogant. Many a deep breath later, you entered the café. He was sitting on a table near the farthest wall and did not seem to have noticed your entrance until you approached him. 

“You are late.”

“It’s 1:07” 

“You said 1:00, my time is valuable.”

“I apologize, I’m sure you have many things to do at the lab,” you said, making sure the sarcasm in your voice came through. 

He was unable to retort since, before you could even sit on the chair opposite him, a waitress was already standing next to the table with a wide grin. 

“Welcome! How are you two doing today?”

“I’m wonderful, thank you.” You tried as hard as you could to let go of the frown you’d been carrying and be as nice as possible to her, Viktor answering with a polite smile as well. 

“That is so great to hear! Can I get you something to start?”

“Just drip coffee and sweet milk for him.” Viktor was initially annoyed that you had spoken over him, but his feelings soon changed into unfiltered confusion. 

“Sure thing! I'll be back with those in a minute, let me know if you need anything else.” She said and then disappeared among the group of people at the counter who were taking their orders to go. 

“How did you know?”

“What?”

“What I wanted to order”

“What do you mean? It’s literally all you drink,” You said in a dismissive tone that just made him even more puzzled. You would’ve dropped the matter there if his expression wasn’t so utterly perplexed. “Viktor, just because I don’t like you, it doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

“Right, eh, I got the notebook, where would you like to start?” He said, trying to deflect. 

“Why can’t I write?”

“I got the notebook first, I write. And my handwriting is better anyway.”

“Fine, I asked Heimerdinger how many days we were allotted for the conference, and he said we needed to have it all on the same day, but we could get two different venues in the same place to split the different disciplines.”

“Why is that necessary?”

“I doubt the people who attend to see the chemistry presentations will be interested in sticking around for the arts talk, so rather than having people stand up and leave, we can split the disciplines into two different venues”

“Hm, sure.” He said, opening the notebook to start scribbling down, “Chemistry, engineering and biology on one venue, arts, history and language on the other.”

"Exactly,” You started to say before being gracefully interrupted by the sweet waitress with your drinks.  

“Here’s yours, and here’s the drip coffee, are we all good?”

“Yes, everything is perfect, thank you so much”

“No problem at all! And can I just say you two are such a lovely couple? I haven’t seen a couple go out with matching outfits in so long, it makes me so giddy to see!”

“We are not—” Viktor was quick to answer, but you were quicker.

“—matching, this is our work uniform. Maybe we should go out with matching outfits one day, though, that sounds so fun! Right, my love?” 

Shock is not a strong enough word to describe what Viktor was going through at the moment, his ears red with embarrassment and his silence deafening.  

“Don’t mind him; he’s shy,” you said, shooting her a warm smile as she did the same and turned to leave once again.

There was another minute of muted annoyance in Viktor's eyes, contrasting with the smug chuckle you let out. 

“Are you out of your mind? What was that about?”

“What? That was hilarious,” You said, shrugging.

“Why do you always do that? What is so fun about being a mythomaniac?”

“I don’t always do that, only to get out of uncomfortable situations. Can you imagine how awkward she would’ve felt if we had corrected her? She’s happy, and I got to see you flustered, so I’m happy; everyone wins!”

“I’m not— Whatever. Stop doing that."

“So, about scheduling, we need to decide the order of the speakers.” You said, still with a smirk on your lips. Viktor nearly sighed in relief.

“For venue number one, I think it should be me, biology second and you third.”

“There is no way I’m going last; I want to leave as early as possible, not to mention the bio students are probably going to be the largest crowd, so if anything, he should go last to retain the audience for as long as possible.”

“There’s the same amount of students in all disciplines.”

“I’m talking about the turnout on the day of, more people are going to show up for him.” 

“How can you be so sure of that? You don’t even remember his name.”

“First of all, neither do you, and second of all, he is hot; all the students swoon over him.”

“That’s preposterous.” There was a tinge of more annoyance in his eyes. 

“If you paid attention to anything other than those little blue crystals, you would’ve noticed.”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s not a good enough reason to change the schedule”

“Why can’t it be me, him, and you, then? You can close off the show, rock star!”

“We can both write out proposals for the order and present them to the others at our next group meeting; the best one wins.”

“Ugh, everything is a competition for you, isn’t it?” You said now visibly annoyed.

This comment seemed to irk him differently than usual; perhaps he felt you were right, or perhaps he felt hurt by your comment, but either way, it seemed to have worn him down. A sigh of resignation and a massage on his temples later, and he was apparently ready to give up. 

“Have it your way then, princess.” 

_____________________________________

This had an effect on you, but definitely not the one he intended. After writing the order of the schedule down and ironing out some other details, you offered to take this information to Lara so she could design the material for advertising. You would’ve gone to the art labs (more like studios, but they all called them labs since every researcher workspace was in the same wing of the Academy), but for obvious reasons you couldn’t, so you made plans to meet up at her dorm that very night.

Lara was as fun as you expected. Moira had been your only friend at the Academy for years. You always preferred to keep to yourself, and although Jayce was your friend too, technically, his proximity to Viktor made it difficult for you to hang around his work space without starting any fights, so hanging out with someone new felt refreshing. 

The work meeting was quick. After you had settled into one of the comfortable puff chairs scattered throughout the small room, she began to offer you drinks and food. One gossip session later, she offered you one of her tiny nightgowns, and before you noticed, you were having a full-on slumber party. 

It felt good to relax like this. You chastised Viktor a lot for being too obsessed with his work, but you weren’t too far off from that yourself, not having had a night to wind down with friends in at least a year. She made cocktails that tasted like sweet nectar and fruit too, so it was so easy for the both of you to be way over tipsy when you heard a knock on the door that she went to answer. 

“Guess what, sweetheart! It's your worst enemy!” You heard her scream from over at the door and then come over, slightly tumbling, with a very confused Viktor on one arm. "Come, come, come, err... want a drink? Some chips? We’re havin’ some chips, aren’t we, hun? Here, have some chips..."

“Eh, no, thank you; I just came over to correct a mistake I made on the notes I sent her with. It should’ve said 6:00 pm instead of 8 p.m. on the first time slo— “

"Yeah, yeah, tell me again tomorrow, though I won’t remember,” Lara said again in between giggles as she let go of his arm and sat down on the bed. 

Throughout all of this, you stayed silent, looking up at him as you sank into one of the puffs. He blushed for a second time that day, as you noticed, and he made it a point to look at the floor every time Lara spoke. When he looked at you, even though you tried to repress it, you smiled in amusement. 

“Can you at least write it down?” He told you. 

“I’ll write it down, yeah,” You said, crossing your legs. 

“Now?”

“Are you in a rush, Vik?” You said standing up lazily.

There’s a kind of blushing that bares the soul— Not the kind where one’s embarrassed; you’ve seen that on Viktor plenty of times as it settled on his ears—the kind where you could see pink and peach and red all mix to boil over his cheeks. You didn’t know for sure, but the crinkle of his nose and the long but broken-up breath he took showed something beyond simple timidness, something darker. 

Perhaps it was the scanty lace of your nightgown and your own spirit-induced rosy cheeks, or maybe you had unlocked in him a new level of rage. You wanted to see it again, that was for sure, whatever the cause was.  

“You two seem to be having a lot of fun; write down the correct time, and I’ll be on my way”

And that you did, you had a lot more time to figure this out in your next meetings. He turned and left through the door as soon as he made sure the information was recorded, and you were left to silently ponder what you had just seen while you continued to have fun with Lara. 

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

Viktor heel-and-toe raced all the way back to his dorm as fast as his legs allowed him. From the outside, it would seem he was trying to run away from something, and in a way he was. He thought maybe leaving the place was good enough to leave that feeling behind, but alas, it wasn't. 

Only when the door handle did not turn did he notice his palms were sweating, and it went downhill from there. Every step he took inside his room came with a new realization. He sat in the dark for a while; his skin felt a little too much like skin, his heart was incredibly squeezed and restricted sitting in his throat, and his face was hot enough to boil the sweat dripping down his forehead. He would’ve mistaken this for unbridled rage in any other circumstance, he could have, if it hadn’t been for the uncomfortable feeling of tightness in his pants.

The line was so blurry, he thought, between rampant fury and arousal, they shared the same place in the brain and produced some of the same hormones. But this was not supposed to happen. There was so much more about you to loathe than to like, or at least that’s what he had always believed. 

Perhaps this is why it feels so good to hate her, Viktor thought. 

However, this felt like letting you win. And if you were right about something, it was that Viktor was competitive. A cold shower should do it. 

[hererafjastori]

The movie Barbie in Princess and the Pauper is deeply misunderstood. In this essay I will…

No but like, seriously. I have come across too many people making fun of “I’m just like you” and fundamentally misunderstanding both the meaning of the song, and Annalise as a character, by acting like Annalise is a rich brat who doesn’t know to be grateful for what she has. So we are going to take an in-depth look at the song, Annalise, Erika, their situations and their character, and make a few things clear.

Let’s start with the above mentioned song, and the widespread opinion, that the girls and the movie act like there is no difference between Annelise living in constant luxury, and Erika suffering the life of an indentured servant. But what is happening has a lot more nuance.

First of: Annelise is not the instigator for this compare and contrast. Note how it’s Erika who starts comparing their lives, not Annelise, who reacts very perplexed. Annelise would have been fine with Erika never figuring out she was a princess, and only starts talking about the luxuries that being a princess grants her, after Erika prompts her. This is not Annalise bragging about her life, downplaying the privilege she enjoys or whining about how hard her situation is. This is her replying to Erikas enquire by both, acknowledging the vast difference there is between their lives, but also by underlining the ridiculousness that is such luxury. We can see later, in the movie, when Erika gets her breakfast, that there are no fucking minstrels. And Erika is totally on board with that, she even plays around with her, look at the way she interacts with the ‘omelet’ Analise presents her with. And later in the song, Erika acknowledges that the ‘married to a total stranger’ situation sucks.

But let’s take a look at the ways they recognize that they are the same. What are their similarities?

“I’m just like you, you’re just like me, there’s somewhere else we’d rather be. Somewhere that’s ours, somewhere that dreams come true, yes I am a girl like you. You’d never think, that it was so, but now I’ve met you and I know. […] ”

“I would never tell my mother. I wouldn’t wanna disappoint her.” “I completely understand.”

“[…]We take responsibility. We carry through, do what we need to do, yes I am a girl like you […] It’s something anyone can see. A heart that beats, a voice that speaks the truth”

So, what are their stated similarities:

They are in a situation they desperately want to escape. They see no option of realizing their dreams and fulfilling their desires or even have a perspective of leading a happy life.

Others lean, depend on and draw from their strength, so they have little to no opportunity of sharing that burden

They recognize that there is a reason they have these duties, and their conscience won’t allow them to even try and shirk said duties. They take up this responsibility that they never wanted, fully aware of the sacrifices that they will have to make.

Throughout it all, they make the active choice not to complain, to stay optimistic, to not loose hope and to carry their burden with dignity and integrity

Nobody disputes that they life very different lives. The first minute of their interaction makes that abundantly clear. Erika even sings “You’d never think that it was so”. Them coming from very different places was never up for debate. What they are comparing is the way they deal with it.

This willingness to endure under the pressure and expectations placed upon them without allowing to loose themselves, is the very core of both of these characters!

And we can see all of this throughout the movie, especially in ‘Free’.

[1] I don’t think I have to explain Erika. We see the direness of her situation in the way Mdm. Karp treats her the times she finds her singing, her threatening to use the excuse of interest to keep her prisoner for basically the rest of her life, the way she treats Annelise, thinking she is talking to Erika after she fled, the fact that she locks her seamstresses in often enough, that there is a routine in place to allow at least Wolfie an escape.

But Annalise is just as worked to the bone as Erika, if in a different way. Her day is planned through, down to the literal minute. Just listen to the start of Free. Her greatest wish is to have one day without work, because she hasn’t had that in living memory. And yes, most of it is studies and keeping up appearances, but in “to be a princess” we get an impression of how much thought and energy that takes. (“be charming, but detached and yet amused […] Never be confused”, “Never fall, don’t ever stray from protocol. All through the day, there’s just one way you must behave” “Never crack” “Never show a thing you feel inside. Glide.” “to be a princess is to never get to rest” “Never squirm […] Speak and be clever, never at a loss for words” “Never show dismay and be there when people call, be prepared whatever royal life may bring” “Never ever turn your back. There’s a time and place and way for everything”)

She has to be flawless, confident, and composed throughout the day without the  slightest hint of being imperfect. She has little to no privacy, she is constantly observed, perceived, judged by far more metrics than pretty much anyone else, and is she falls short of them and say, worsens relationships with another kingdom, makes a bad decision in ruling the kingdom, makes the kingdom appear weak in any way, her people will be the ones to pay the prize. And all that is without taking the marriage into consideration. She doesn’t know who Dominic is! We know that he is a great guy, but for all Annelise knows, he could be the kind of person Preminger reveals himself to be. Even if he is a decent guy, it would likely be a loveless marriage. That is a sacrifice (as we can see when her mother is forces into the very same position), especially if it means sacrificing her relationship with Julian, her childhood friend, who shares her interests, helps her through all that nonsense, and understands her better than anyone. On screen, he is the only person she truly opens up with, other than Serafina (who is a cat), and Erika (who she only met that day, and has little emotional investment in the whole thing). Erika and Dominic sing a whole duet about the importance of knowing each other in order to have a functioning relationship, and she has had that with Julian for years. They both (Julian is clearly just as devoted and self-sacrificing as she is) accept to let this unspoken thing between them slip through their fingers, with no hope of ever finding something comparable, and the prospect of drifting apart with time, all for the sake of the kingdom.

And in terms of hope for the future, Annelise is just as bad of, if not worse than Erika. Erika has been working continuously to escape her situation, and never given up hope (“My determination’s strong. People will gather around the world to hear my song! Soon I will forever be free). And in the meantime, she has found small ways to fight back against Mdm. Karp (She can never stop my schemes). How realistic it is to ever pay off Mdm. Karp is a different matter, but she still has a fighting spirit. Annelise meets Erika, while in the process of making peace with the fact, that this was it for her, and there will be no coming back from this (“Now I fear I’ll never be Free” “I’m savoring a first and last taste of freedom”).

[2] In terms of hope and determination, Erika is doing the emotional heavy lifting for both herself, and the other seamstress. And Annelise is putting up a strong façade for even her mother, because in the face of the lack of options, she doesn’t want to burden her mother with the knowledge that she is damning her daughter to an unhappy life.

[3] I already explained Annelise’s situation in detail. Because she was born in royalty, she is tasked with a lot of responsibility, and even though she had no choice in the matter, she still accepts her cross to bear, and does so silently knowing the great personal cost she’ll have to pay. For Erika, they kind of fumbled the ball with the duties she chooses to accept, seeing as pretty much the sole person to suffer from her just, running away and ignorin her 'duties' would be her active abuser. Even if she has yet to pay back all the money her parents borrowed from Mdm. Karp (something she had no say or choice in), she has more than done her time in emotional suffering, and saying that staying in this toxic environment is her duty is not a message I agree with. But in-universe she explicitly states such convictions, so any and all points on the matter of her dutiful behavior still stand. One might be able to twist her duty to be to not leave the other seamstress to suffer alone, but that has no textual evidence. But we see this willingness to sacrifice for the sake of duty and responsibility most strongly, when she agrees to help Julian out and take Annelise’s place. There are two ways this could play out: she get’s away with it, or she doesn’t. We see both, her options are being thrown into the royal dungeon for treason, or being locked away by Mdm. Karp for running away, and knowing those where her prospects, she still chose to do this for the sake of both Annelise and the kingdom.

[4] Just, listen to free, watch the movie. These two girls prove their inner strength and endurance time and time again. They always keep going, searching for solution after solution, no matter what obstacles lie in their way (Being sent away at the palace gates, escaping Mdm. Karp, escaping the mines, escaping the dungeon, etc.). Their drive, determination, endurance and unbendable spirit are admirable.

“I close my eyes, and feel myself fly a thousand miles away. I could take flight, but would it be right, my conscience tells me stay. I’ll remain forever royal. I’ll repay my parents debt. Duty means doing the things your heart may well regret. But I’ll never stop believing/ she can never stop my schemes. There’s more to living than gloves and gowns and thread and seams, in my dreams, I’ll be free”

This is the end of free, the core of them, and the thing they recognize in each other, and I will no longer allow any slander against either them!

[yesbutmakeitgay]

Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl

Chapter 14

Carol Danvers x Reader

Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3

Summary: At last, you get your stuff back.

Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.

Word count: 800

Think Of You In A Better Light

It’s been a couple of days since your encounter with Captain Marvel, you have been mostly keeping to yourself, staying in your room, recovering from the fight.

You hear some noise outside your quarters and slowly get up to investigate. You open the door and find The Captain putting down the last of three boxes full of stuff you recognize, trying to cram something in one of them.

"What are you doing?"

"Bringing your things back." She doesn't look at you.

"What you got there?" you ask, pointing at her hand.

She finally looks up and hands you the small object, "Just take it," she commands. You accept and open it to reveal a golden ring.

"I don't wear jewelry."

"It was in your drawer, it's not mine." Her tone turns bitter. She knows full well what it is even if you don't remember. The wheels in your brain start turning as you stare at it.

"Well, that's the last box," she mumbles before walking away, leaving you perplexed.

You take the boxes inside and go through the stuff in them. You're digging through the last one looking for your favorite hoodie when you find a Polaroid picture of you and Carol, she's wearing a big smile and you are placing a kiss on her cheek, you have never seen anyone look this happy. Your heart drops a little, but you’re unsure why.

You try to ignore the sensation and begin putting all your belongings away.

Kamala and Valkyrie lounge in the common room, the girl is excitedly describing her last mission with the Young Avengers.

You enter and interrupt their conversation, "Was either of you, goons, gonna tell me I was engaged to Captain Marvel?" you demand, offended.

"You what?" Kamala is shocked by your words.

"You weren't, not yet, at least," The King is quick to respond, "you remembered something?" She maintains a calm tone, you pull out the small box with the ring inside.

Kamala gasps loudly, "Where did that come from?"

"She gave me my stuff back."

"She saw it?" Valkyrie is suddenly concerned.

"She handed it to me personally." Your voice is full of indignation, Val makes a pained expression.

"That's a very nice ring," the girl feels the need to point out, you side eye her, "at least now you could get a refund?"

"I don't even know where I got it."

"I do, but you're not gonna like it," Valkyrie reveals, making both of you look at her, "it was a gift, authentic Asgardian gold," she explains with pride.

You scoff incredulously, "Will you take it back?"

"Keep it as collateral for when Fury inevitably kicks you out of here," she's only half joking.

"How much is it worth?" Kamala whispers.

The King grins, "More than your life."

You spend that night looking at the ring. After what Val said about it you don’t even dare touch it, but you stare at your reflection on it for a long time. As far as you can remember you have never thought about getting married, least of all, to the woman who almost killed you days before.

You put the velvet box down on your bedside table and see the Polaroid placed upside down, the image seared into your brain. The Captain you just met looks nothing like the woman in the picture and you can’t remember ever being that happy before. The dissonance created in your brain brings you a familiar headache, there has to be another side of this story and, maybe, now that she’s back you can really start to get some answers.

"You got the goods?" You extend your arm to retrieve the small object, but Valkyrie pulls it out of your reach.

"Uh, uh, uh, not so fast, when are you planning on giving it to her?"

"I don't know, I've been thinking about it for months, everyday I wake up and I just want to be married to her already." Your voice is full of excitement.

"I know I met you first, but I have to tell you, if you hurt her I will end you," Val playfully threatens you.

"Oh, come on, if I hurt her she can end me on the spot herself, I’m not afraid of you or her." Your lips curl into a dopey smile.

"You are so whipped," she teases you.

"You know I've loved her from the moment I met her, I took full months off work just so I could hang out with her, then she convinced Fury to let us go on a mission together, not a single day goes by where I don't feel so in love with her."

Val chuckles and hands you the ring, "Go on Romeo, take care of it, it's the really good stuff."

"Thank you.”

"Always."

Chapter 14.5

Didn't see that one coming, huh?

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