#never watched the show and yet I've been hearing about it long before I knew what spn was

[seanwinchester]

that destiel vs mulder/scully poll is so funny cause the sheer number of references to x-files in spn alone should give you a pretty clear idea on the stakes at play here

[reiderwriter]

For some reason my comments don't come through on your posts, but I want to first say I absolutely love your writing and I'm so happy your requests are open!! 🥰😭 So I've had this idea of a fluff mixed with spencer angst where reader is maybe interning at Diana's facility (not a dr yet, studying) and becomes close with Diana by reading, chatting, etc and Spencer over hears it from time to time and the dialogue between spencer and reader gets too close for Spencers comfort, but Diana wants her around more. Thank you again for your hard work okay bye!

A/N: I've never written a fic with Diana in it before, so this was a bit of a challenge for me, bit I enjoyed writing it a lot! Hopefully, this is somewhat like what you wanted!! ❤️

Warnings: Spencer is a bit dense (real) and puts his foot in his mouth (metaphorically, of course).

Diana Reid's son was exactly the way she described him, down to the tiny curls at the base of his neck and the glimmer of intelligence in his eye. 

After four weeks interning at the care facility while working on your medical degree, you'd spent a considerable amount of time with your favorite patient, and her stories about her son were legendary. 

At first, you weren't sure whether to believe the woman when she said her son was a genius with an IQ of 187, three PhDs, and a job in the FBI. She wouldn't be the first schizophrenic patient to muddle up her facts, but she certainly was the sweetest. 

So when you recalled your conversation with the head nurse later that day, she laughed and confirmed every story about Doctor Spencer Reid. Your mouth hung open in shock because surely nobody that incredible could just be out walking the streets. 

Another month of conversations about the man, and you were half in love with him. He wrote his mother letters every day - hand wrote them, even - and she's shown you a few. He'd talked about his friends, his team, his jobs, and how he was saving lives. And when one of the latest ones dropped in the news that he'd be free for a visit soon, you found yourself overflowing with anticipation. 

Of course, you felt like you already knew the man. You knew what his first words were, what his favorite toy was growing up, and even about the exploits of his first date, as pitiful as it was. What you didn't know was if Diana was passing along similar information about you. 

The day Spencer Reid finally showed up, he took your breath away. You were mostly in awe of Diana's ability to describe her son perfectly, though you'd grown fond of her perfectly professional English Lecturer tone of speaking over the last few weeks. She was practically lyrical when talking her son into existence. 

“His hair curls beautifully. He's my little adonis. He keeps it too long though, I'm always telling him he needs to cut it because it hides too much of his face,” she'd told you one day before picking her book up and ignoring you for the next half hour. 

“My Spencer is delightfully tall. He's a little bit spindly like a spider. He's not the most grateful, that's for sure, we used to call him crash because he was always bumping into things. Poetic, right?” 

You knew from the second he walked through the door that this man was him. 

Tall, slightly hunched, clutching his satchel strap in his hand, terrifyingly handsome and making your hand jump into your throat. Definitely him, and definitely a problem. You'd have to check the code of conduct about falling hopelessly for a patient's beautiful son. 

If you had any doubts, this was Spencer in front of you though, when he bumped into a chair just as he was about to reach his mother, it was confirmed. 

“Diana, I believe your Crash is here,” you smiled and giggled, watching her turn quickly to greet her son. 

You, too, gave him a warm smile, but he seemed a little hesitant to return it, instead greeting his mother softly and sitting with her while you retreated slightly to give them some privacy. 

You hovered in the space, as Diana had been talking about introducing the two of you all week, and you didn't want to distress her if she couldn't find you close by. 

But though Spencer was closely attentive and soft with his mother, he took brief pauses to stare almost frustratedly at you. You weren't sure what it was, but something about you was setting Spencer on edge, and that in itself was unsettling you as well. 

“Oh, Spencer, you must meet our Y/N. Y/N, come here, this is my son, Spencer.”

Slightly more apprehensive now, you held out your hand to shake his, “I've heard so much about you  it's nice to finally be seeing you in person, Doctor Reid.” 

He didn't shake your hand, though, but awkwardly waved it off quickly, leaving you to awkwardly replace it by your side. 

“Nice to meet you. Are you a new attendant? I asked all updates about my mother's companions to be confirmed and passed on to me, patient and carers included.” 

His tone was business-like and clipped, and you could see a gentle annoyance settling on his features. 

“I'm sorry, Doctor Reid, I thought Diana would have told you in a letter, or the administration would've passed it on. I'm a medical student on an internship.” You felt like you'd been chastised by an irate parent though he'd at no point raised his voice or indicated in his words any sense of anger at all. His eyes burned across your skin, though, and you felt a flame heat your skin under the weight of his stare. 

“You're mother has told me a lot about you though, she reads me your letters sometimes, between our discussions of Marjorie Kempe.” 

“My letters? Mom, we've talked about this. Those are private.” You looked at the quiet disappointment on Diana's face and felt protective over the woman all of a sudden.

“Please, I'm sorry for overstepping, but your mother is just very proud of you. She talks about you a lot actually, and your job-” 

“With all due respect, Y/N, the last time my mother talked to a new friend about me, he traveled to Virginia and shot one of my friends, so this really is a conversation I'd rather not be having.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as he turned back to his mother and started talking to her gently again about personal security, effectively dismissing you from the conversation. 

You'd had stupid hopes for Spencer Reid, and that's all they would ever be. 

Reid talked on, and you left him alone with his mother, though she seemed distracted by your departure. 

“Spencer, that wasn't nice. Look at that poor girl. She's close to tears.”

“What? Mom, are you even listening to me?” 

“No, and I likely won't until you go and apologize to Y/N. She's a pretty girl, Spencer, and she was very excited to meet you.” 

“Pretty…. Mom, please.” 

“What, do you disagree? You think I don't know you well enough to know when a girl would suit you well? Or do you think I'm blind to the fact that you were stealing glances at her before she introduced herself.” 

Spencer went quiet at having been caught, and he hated to accept that maybe his mother was right. 

It was true as well that the care facility had informed him of medical interns coming and going in the next few months, and really, she wasn't to blame for his mother being fond of him. 

He was glad, though, that neither of them had noticed the ten minutes he'd spent just outside the large sitting area watching them talk. He'd been obviously taken aback to see someone new so close to his mom and his mom similarly comfortable. He felt even worse for the fact that for a solid minute and a half, he'd stared at the girl with no other thought in his head than the sound of his heart skipping a questioning beat. 

He'd pulled himself out of it eventually, but only when another nurse had come along to ask him if he'd actually be visiting his mother today or just dropping in to check on her. 

And then he'd bumped into that infernal chair when he was so fixated on getting to them, and she'd opened her mouth and called him crash, and his heart had sank. 

He reminded himself it was neither of their faults and inwardly cursed himself for being so unfriendly with someone who'd taken such good care of his mother recently. 

He promised himself that he'd talk with his mom and then go and find the woman, and apologising for being such a brute. 

“Spencer, are you listening to me, or are you busy daydreaming about my nurse?” 

“Mom!” 

“You're plain as day, kiddo, you'll never get anything past me. Now please, leave me be, I'm reading. Come back later if you must, but for now, take this to Y/N for me, please. She left it with me to read this morning, but I'm not in the mood for Medieval Romance right now.” 

It was a blatant lie, but a dismissal nonetheless, and Spencer quietly took his chance to search for you in the halls. 

The head nurse humorously pointed him in the right direction without him asking, much to his annoyance, but he persisted and lightly tapped on your shoulder to greet you. 

“Oh, Doctor Reid, hello again.” You smiled a little smaller this time, still polite, but he watched the way it didn't reach your eyes and felt like a jackass all over again. 

“My mom told me to come return this book to you.” He held out the book, and you quietly took it, folding it into your arms and hugging it tightly against your chest as you both stood there silently after the exchange. 

“I'm sorry, as well. I wasn't exactly very friendly back there, because-” 

“It's okay, Doctor Reid, you really don't have to explain. I overstepped, it's my fault and it won't happen again.”

“Are you kidding? My mom hasn't looked that relaxed in years. Please keep overstepping.” 

Your smile widened slightly at the compliment, and Spencer's tongue kicked into hyper drive immediately at the sight, even as his brain powered off. 

“You're pretty,” he blurted out, stopping only as his brain caught up with his tongue before firing off again. “My mom said you're pretty. I agree as well, though, you have a nice smile, and it's better when you don't force it. Not that I'm telling you how to smile, though. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but my mom made me come over here and talk to you, even though I'm pretty sure that's her book and not one you loaned her.” 

He took a moment to catch his breath as you blinked at him in confusion, heart beating rapidly even as you heard the blood rushing through your ears. 

“If you're free now, would you want to grab a coffee? Unless you have a boyfriend. Or husband. Or girlfriend or wife, I guess, I don't mean to presume. But if you're free, as in time, and free as in, like, relationship wise, I'd like to buy you a coffee to thank you for listening to my mom.” 

He finally stopped, and you stared wondrously at the reddened skin of his cheeks as he held his breath, waiting for your reply. 

“You want to take me out for coffee to thank me?” 

“Yes.” 

“And on a separate note, I'm pretty, and you want to know if I'm in a relationship?” 

“I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me, I'll just see myself out. It was a stupid idea anyway-” 

“No, wait, Spencer! Let me… let me grab my coat. My lunch break is in half an hour, and I'm sure it'll be okay to take it early.” You held his arm for a second, stepping slightly too close for comfort before realising yourself and taking a tiny step back.

He stood and blinked in your direction, as though wondering seriously for a moment what your lunch break had to do with him. 

“Are you going to stand there staring at me, or are we going to go out?” 

“You're serious?” 

“I guess…. I guess I am.”

“And you're… you're single.” 

Your mouth went dry as his skin finally completed its transformation from vampiric to tomato red. You desperately hoped your own embarrassment wasn't equally as readable on your face. 

“Quite single. Medical students don't have that much time to date.”

“Neither do FBI agents.” 

“Perhaps a subject we could talk more about later?” 

“Definitely.” 

[realcube]

WRATH & LUST . t.kei / y.tadashi

synopsis ✧ you hate tsukishima kei. you do everything in your power to make his life miserable but nothing works. now you have no choice but to fuck his best friend

cws/tags ✧ college au , enemies to enemies who screw, cursing, fob, smut, vaginal, oral (recieving) & praise — minors dni

parts ✧ i. ii. iii. iv.

maybe you were overexaggerating a bit when you said that yamaguchi is always with tsukishima, because there are a couple times a week when you know they'll be apart.

your friend is a part of the college's newspaper club, and she mentioned that yamaguchi is a member too, but tsukishima isn't. this gave you the perfect opportunity to the catch him alone and prey on his weakest form.

you saunter up to the news room, and catch yamaguchi waiting outside. they don't usually enter until your friend, the chief editor, arrives. "excuse me?"

your voice is soft and inviting, hence yamaguchi is stunned when he turns to see you. his guard is up, but unlike tsukishima, he doesn't immediately resort to aggression, "yes?" he replies quietly.

"is this the newspaper society?" you ask innocently, tilting your head with a smile.

yamaguchi is unsure as to why you are being so mellow towards him, considering your history, but as he chokes back a gulp, he figures that maybe your negative sentiments are purely towards tsukishima and up until now he has just been caught in the crossfire.

"yes, this is. i'm waiting for the editor to get here."

"oh, hana?" your lips are parts slightly, as he nods, "she is my friend. i'm sure she won't mind if we just go in."

"are you sure?" his questions is basically answered as he watches you enter the news room. he hesitantly follows behind, thinking he can shift the blame onto you if the chief editor is upset.

"so, are you a member? i've never seen you here before." he asks while fidgeting with his hands, taking a seat in his usual spot.

"no, not yet. i want to join though which is why i'm here." you sit near yamaguchi, on the table, "but i hear you're full. could you put in a good word for me, tadashi?"

you giggle. bafflement and wary burn at his face, dusting his cheeks a slight pink, "if you're friends with hana then i'm sure you don't need me to talk you up to her."

"well, yeah, but she's reluctant to let me join because, in her words, i can be 'volatile and confrontational'." you muse, legs swinging lightly as you turn to look at yamaguchi with a knowing smirk, "i'm so not, though. you can vouch for me, right?"

yamaguchi blinks, then responds, "yeah. you're the most docile person i know."

you find it cute that he plays along with your jokes. plus, now that you're actually taking a good look at him, you realise he has such a sweet, squishable face. how does the sweetest boy ever end up in the company of lucifer incarnate?

"i wouldn't say docile. that's too far-fetched." you tease.

"mild?"

"eh."

"poise?"

"i like that one but still no."

"composed?"

"that could work!" you cheer, displaying the palm of your hand he insantly reciprocates with a high-five. just as your shared laughter begins to die down, hana and a couple other members of the newspaper society enter the room.

you spend the rest of the hour in the back of the room, working on an article with yamaguchi. your friend knew about your plan, and she didn't mind you utilising her society to achieve your end goal, but you'd hate to impede on her work flow for too long so you pulled out all the stops to ensure you gain tadashi's favour as quickly as possible.

and it worked like a charm. despite never having communicated directly with each other before, you chatted throughout the whole hour like you were lifelong best friends. there was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you — the sweet and sour.

plus, you both have a lot more in common than you may have initially thought. your music tastes are very similar, surprisingly, and you like the same movies/shows. he shows you a couple of his playlists and you do the same, discussing the concerts you've been to and what merchandise you have.

you learned that he is studying to be an electronic engineer while tsukishima is studying history, but he chose maths electives just so they could be in a couple of classes together. they also used to do volleyball together in highschool and are both apart of the volleyball society in college.

so corny and so cheesy but coming from the mouth of yamaguchi, it was the sweetest, most moving story of friendship you've ever heard.

even when meeting ended, you both still walked together out of the building, blathering away about anything and everything, it comes to an abrupt holt when you reach the building's exit.

perplexed, yamaguchi asks, "which way are you going? if you want, i could walk you to your bus stop?"

you smile awkwardly, pretending to be sheepish about the proposition despite it being exactly what you anticipated, "i would love that. but i don't think tsukishima would be too delighted to see us together."

yamaguchi frowns at the reminder but nods.

"but," you continue, pulling a pen and scrap piece of paper from your bag and hurriedly jotting something down, "you can ring me if you ever want to talk. or anything else." you hand it to him with a wink and yamaguchi's throat dies up at your suggestion, he is barely able to croak out an 'okay'.

"see you later!" you skip off and yamaguchi is left speechless behind.

ೃ⁀➷

you had warmed up to each other very quickly. texting each other videos, emojis and pictures every other minute. didn't even take two days before you both had a shared playlist. you were up until ungodly hours of the night facetiming each other.

it was so frequent, yamaguchi had to change your contact information to a fake name because he was getting tired of constantly having to hide his phone from tsukishima, since there was bound to be a notification from you on his screen.

"are you gonna buy tickets tonight???" "noooo don't remind me tadashi" "what's the matter ???😧" "wi-fi sucks at my houseee. i never get concert tickets on time. always end up paying resale prices 😤" "you can come to mine if you want! my wifi is good"

you took him up on his offer. you went over to his dorm at 10PM, since tickets when on sale at 11PM in your time zone. (darn international artists!)

it was a blood-bath but by the grace of god you both successfully secured two tickets to see your favourite artist performing live, with seats very close to the stage!

so of course you had to celebrate somehow.

shaky breathes escaped his lips, soft moans intertwined. his shirt had come off, exposing his tan skin to the hot atmosphere of his bedroom. hypnotised by the way your tight cunt sucked needily on his cock, dripping cum all over his bare shaft.

his gaze was only freed from your sex when he was nearing his climax and a sudden bolt of ecstasy wracked through him, causing his eyes to roll back, "so tight, (y/n)." he grunted, grabbing your ass and squeezing it.

he had you sprawled out over his bed face down, while he stood by the edge and fucked you from behind. he gave you a pillow to rest your cute head on so your neck wouldn't hurt, and he held your legs by his sides while he ploughed into you. four years of volleyball practise has its uses.

his pace is relentless but rhythmic; at first he fucked you leisurely, allowing you to appreciate every inch of him as he'd pull out of you excruciatingly slowly, then ease himself back in until his achy tip prodded your cervix. he wasn't doing it to torment you though, just to give you some time to grow accustomed to his length.

it was better that way; your desperate pussy welcomed him instead of trying to force him out. in fact, it clung to him so tightly it was challenging for him to pull out of you, somehow he managed.

as he approached his orgasm, his thrusts became hurried and sloppy, raring to spill inside your sopping pussy. but ever the altruist, he slips his fingers between your legs to press and rub at your clit fervently, "close, baby?"

his cock splits in you half, and your pussy throbs around him. the power with which he rams into you has made you hazy, drooling mess, only able to weakly buck your hips in reciprocation to his thrusts. you try to whine a meek 'yes' but your face is buried in the pillow, thus yamaguchi only hears an unclear, muffled noise.

he furrows his brows and moves his hands up to your waist, "'m gonna flip you over, yeah?" he pants, still fucking you as he talks, "wanna see that pretty face." in a surge of strength and energy, he pulls you off the bed and flips you onto your back, offering you a gentle smile when you lock eyes.

you weakly smile back, about the only autonomy you could exhibit while his cock continued to pound into you, moulding your walls around him. you were losing control of yourself with each thrust; clinging to the sheets and allow a string of lewd moans and profanities spill from your mouth. somewhere in the mix there was his name.

"tadashi.."

your eyes were closed, and your melodious voice called out for him to save you, like he wasn't tucked inside you. hearing you say his name like that — so filthy and obscene — delighted him in ways he didn't know were possible and only urged him closer to his climax. "(y/n), say that again, please."

the wet slapping noises he made against your cunt grew louder; it was a miracle you could still hear his pastel voice. being railed into the plush sheets of his bed, your mind and body were in two different realms, so when you tried to utter his name once more, all that came out was a series of moans and gasps.

"c'mon, (y/n)." he pled, gripping onto your hips like you are his life force, "i need you. be a good girl for me, please."

he punctuated each word with a harsh thrust, brushing your cervix each time and it didn't take much else for you to come crash down around him. spasming and twitching on his dick, your scream echoing through the room while he fucked you through it. your throbbing pussy still being used for his pleasure.

even when you were nearing completion, your pussy still fluttered around him and you squealed, "tadashi!" as the world became hazy and blurred around you.

which was enough to send him hurdling over the edge too. his teeth are gritted together and his hands tense on your waist when he cums inside you. his thrusts waver for only a moment before he temporarily resumes, this time with less vigour and with the sole purpose of milking himself dry inside you.

once he could feel his hot cum packed safely within your walls, he was finally able to gasp for air. he doesn't want to pull out, he's comfortable as he is, but the curious part of him wants to see how his load looks inside you.

he pulls out, only to kneel and examine your glistening hole. too fucked out and sore, you lay on the bed and try to catch your breath, allowing him to push your legs wide open without protest.

"so pretty." he mused, watch as a bit of his cum dribbles out of your pussy and onto your ass. not to worry though, as he uses his two fingers to guide it back inside you. idly, he pushes his fingers inside you and revels at how tight you still are.

"you're perfect." without thinking about it, he curls his fingers inside, then delicately drags them in and out, wrenching a feeble whine from your throat. "do you know how perfect you are?"

he pressed a loving kiss against your clit before poking his head up from between your legs to look at you. "mm" is all you respond with. he chuckles, "that's not a yes or no, baby."

he doesn't dwell on it too long. he'll stop bothering you now by trying to get you to respond to him; you're probably still recovering from your intense orgasm. yamaguchi goes back to admiring your hole, captivated by how his cum has filled you up, and whenever it tries to escape but it is prevented from doing so by his fingers.

"you look so beautiful like this. i wanna burn this image into my brain so i can keep it forever." he kisses your pussy again, french this time. his lips move graciously against your folds and his tongue plunges inside you. you taste so good, so intoxicating, he moans into your skin, the vibrations causing you to gasp. he continues to suck and lick inside your puckered hole, until he gets a taste of himself on his tongue, which causes him to falter and slowly pull away.

"i've never had sex with a girl on the pill before. but this was just.." he can't seem to find the word he's looking for. perhaps it doesn't exist. "amazing. well, that doesn't even cover half of it." he grins foolishly, caressing the inside of your thigh and still gazing at your hole.

"yeah." after lying motionless for a while, you seem to have finally come back down to earth and can form full sentences again. "amitriptyline is great, isn't it?"

"uhuh.." he muses, thinking about how gorgeous you look until what you said finally registers in head and he springs to his feet, "what!?"

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 2

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (still not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

[kolyasangel]

oh baby!

synopsis: you have baby fever and nikolai is intrigued...

content: fem!reader, husband!nikolai, fluff, suggestive ending

You don't even know how you got here. You were currently clothes shopping with Nikolai, but you somehow wandered into the baby's clothing section, looking at the small garments.

"There you are. I've been looking for you." Your husband's voice called for you. It didn't take long for him to find you, so he must've already been nearby. You saw he was holding some things, a few plain shirts and a jacket with a black and white checkered pattern draped over his arm. He noticed the jacket caught your eye, so he held it up for you to see and get your opinion on what you thought about it.

"Do you like it? I saw it and I thought it would suit me, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I do! You know, you really own black and white." You chuckled. Nikolai smiled contently and placed the jacket over his arm again before taking the shopping bags you were holding, wanting to hold them for you. His eyes shifted, suddenly aware of his surroundings.

"Sooo, what are you doing here? Do you have something to tell me?" He nudged your shoulder with his elbow.

"No! I'm just- just.. looking around.." You quickly responded, realizing what he meant by his question.

"Looking around? I don't think these clothes will fit you, dove." He playfully teased as he picked up a baby outfit before placing it back on the rack. You didn't miss the slight smile on his face while he looked at the tiny outfit.

As you two left the baby section, you continued to browse leisurely around different shops with Nikolai, hand holding onto his bicep. This surprised him because you usually didn't like showing such affection in public, but he didn't mind at all, of course. In fact, he loved it, but he couldn't help but notice you were being more clingy than usual.

You've already envisioned countless heartwarming scenarios of Nikolai embracing fatherhood. One in particular was your favorite to imagine, a disheveled and sleep-deprived Nikolai tenderly feeding his newborn from a bottle, the baby's tiny hand holding his finger. Others consisted of him buckling up the child in their car seat, dropping them off on the first day of school, making them laugh uncontrollably by smothering their little face in smooches, and many more. You imagined who your child would look like more, maybe Nikolai. The possibility of them inheriting his beautiful eyes filled your heart with immense happiness.

It's not like you didn't want to tell him, but the uncertainty of what he might say kept you on edge, even if you didn't know for sure. What if he doesn't even want kids? What if he says no? You knew you would have to tell him sooner or later though, since it wasn't like he could read your mind. The last time you even remembered Nikolai ever mentioning or interacting with kids was when he said babies look 'squishy' after an encounter in the grocery store where one kept staring and smiling at him in an aisle. You swore you felt the eggs shoot out of your ovaries as you watched that scene unfold. Something about him with a child just looked so right.

Nikolai wasn't clueless. He had already picked up the hints a while ago and realized that you might be contemplating starting a family, but he still wanted to hear the words directly from your mouth. The idea of starting a family excited him, yet it also made him nervous. While he would be more than happy to have children with you, doubts plagued his mind as he feared he wouldn't be a good enough father. Nevertheless, he would be lying if he said he'd never thought about it before. He would be lying if he said a warm feeling didn't grow in his chest whenever he heard you talk fondly about children.

Later that evening, Nikolai suggested he try some of the new clothing he bought in front of you. You agreed and lay on the bed, watching as he removed his shirt each time, leaving him shirtless and just in sweatpants for a short moment before he tried on the next one. You've seen him shirtless many times, but each time left you absolutely breathless.

He tried on the last shirt, and you gulped as it just had to do him so much justice. It was more form-fitting than the previous ones he tried on, his fingers running over the outline of his toned muscles visible through the fabric.

"I think I should only wear this one in front of you," he laughed as he winked at you flirtatiously before sliding the shirt off, leaving him shirtless once again. This time, it would stay that way. He then removed his hair tie and started to unbraid his hair, catching your gaze and offering a teasing smirk. It took everything in you to not push him down on the bed and-

"You like looking at me, don't you?" He raised his arms above his head, clearly wanting to show off his body for you. It almost seemed like he was doing it on purpose, ravishing your thirst for him.

"I'm sorry.." You don't know what you were apologizing for, your mind scrambled at this point.

"For what, dear? Don't be, you can stare all you want! It's all yours anyway." Nikolai seemed confused at your apology, so he swept some hair behind your ear to get a better look at you.

You stayed quiet, contemplating bringing up the topic now or later, now that you felt hot and bothered by his little show.

"What's wrong, dove? You seem to be lost in thought lately," he asked as he joined you in bed.

"I'm just.. thinking about something." You said.

He noticed your nervous demeanor and tilted your chin with his fingers to make you look at him. "Why've you been so shy with me, hm? You can tell me anything, you know I'll never get mad or judge you," he stroked your cheek gently before his hand trailed down to hold yours.

That's right. You always told Nikolai about anything and everything, so why was this any different? No matter what it was you talked to him about, he always made you feel heard. It was only a question after all, so you decided to just let it go and finally tell him.

"Kolya, what do you think about having kids?"

"Oh my! I knew it." He giggled before patting your cheek, amused at your question. You didn't know what kind of reaction you expected from him, but it certainly wasn't this.

"What do you mean?"

"You think I haven't caught onto your hints? You haven't been so discreet with your actions, sweetheart."

You felt a warm flush of embarrassment creeping up your face as you nervously fiddled with your fingers. It felt like a huge weight had just been lifted off your shoulders. He already knows.

"I know it's a major decision, but I feel ready.. and it's okay if you're not yet, I just thought I should let you know," you stammer.

He reached out and planted a soft kiss on your nose before speaking. "Well, I have thought about it before. Honestly, I don't know how great of a father I would be, but the thought of having a mini version of you running around the house sounds like a dream come true."

You felt a pang in your heart as you heard him speak ill of himself falling short of being a good father. The sad look on his face was discernable, it was the same one he had whenever he thought about the horrible actions committed in the past. It still made him shiver at times, regret consuming his mind whenever he sat on the thought for too long before you recognized his despair, rushing to comfort him.

"Nikolai, I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You're not who you used to be."

It was only natural for him to have worries due to his past, but the mere fact that he cared how he may affect you and his future children indicated that he was a changed man, so you made that point very clear to him.

He smiled at your comment and you felt a surge of emotions as he continued, "When I was younger, I never imagined myself getting married, but now I can't imagine having a family unless it's with you."

"Kolya, that's so sweet. I know this is new for the both of us but we'll work through this together. You're already an amazing husband so I have no doubt that you'll be the best father!" You expressed, gently squeezing his hand. A faint rosy hue dusted his cheeks, flustered by your praise.

"Thank you, dove.. and you're going to be such a wonderful mommy." He sighed as he mused about you being a mother to his children. So gentle, so caring, you would just be perfect. He could already see himself peppering your belly with kisses, blabbering on and on to his unborn child about frivolous things. The more he thought about it, the more he couldn't wait.

"What if I wake up in the middle of the night asking you for pickles and ice cream?"

Your adorable question caught him off guard, making him laugh. He imagined the scene happening in his head, and it was too cute for words.

Nikolai wakes up groggily as he feels you shaking his arm, wanting him to fulfill your request. "Kolyaaa.. I'm hungry and I need pickles with ice cream please.."

"Even if you do, I wouldn't mind at all, darling! If you want to eat ice cream with pickles or any other strange combination, then I'll gladly get it for you. I'll even try them with you."

Your eyes glimmered at his sweet response and trailed down to his chest, fingers running across his abs. You were overcome with so much love for him that you felt you couldn't wait any longer, and it seemed like Nikolai could tell.

"Kolya.."

"Hm?"

"I want to make cute chubby babies with you." You pleaded with cute eyes.

"Yeah? Right now?" He asked as he pulled you closer to him, finger hooking onto the strap of your tank top, sliding it off slowly before placing soft kisses on your shoulder. "How many?"

"Mm, one? No, two.."

"How about ten?"

"N-No! Too many."

He snickered and pushed you down onto the bed, climbing on top of you.

"Well then, we better get started if we wanna make those cute babies~"

[ellsss]

UNSCRIPTED DESIRES: LOVE BEYOND THE JOB 18+ PART 2:

authors note: this took SOO long because ✨executive dysfunction✨ I'm honestly really proud of this, even though it took forever. I think I've done a good job. Read Part 1 first, if you haven't already! If you've read that please proceed, and enjoy!!

PART 2 SUMMARY: It’s your first day at The Gardens, and a terrifying customer awaits you…

warnings: mdni! soft! sevika, protective! sevika, body worship, themes of body dysmorphia.

word count: 3.1k

“Strip”, she demands suddenly, her grin getting bigger by the minute. You gasp at the instruction and your eyes widen in shock. You hate this and stripping is the last thing you want to do.

“Right now?”, you ask, moving your arms to your sides and hesitantly picking at the fabric of your corset above your hips. She looks at you, brows furrowed, her head leaning slightly in disbelief, and you know that you have no choice in the matter.

You look down at yourself and cringe at your appearance. You’ve never shown this much of yourself before. The only person who had seen your body was your ex and she wasn’t exactly nice about it.

You knew that stripping was part of the job when you took it, but you underestimated how intense it was going to feel.

Your cleavage on full display, bursting through your corset, the lacy ensemble hugging your figure, and your panties squeezing your thighs, your stretch marks peeking through ever so slightly.

This is the most exposed you’ve been in a while, and you don’t like it. Your insecurities bubble inside of you...

Your chest tenses up, feeling the pressure of her demand weighing heavy on your shoulders. You squeeze your eyes shut, cheeks pushed up towards your eyelids, hands clenched into tight fists of distress.

At this point, you’re doing anything to escape this situation. You try to clear your mind, to do something to forget about your surroundings. But all you can focus on is the panic you feel about being watched; being seen.

“Is everything alright, doll?”. A voice, peppered with concern, reaches your ears, but it’s too muffled for you to hear anything. The critical voice in your head rings too loud.

Your heart begins to pump out of your chest, and it gets harder and harder to breathe as your chest tightens, your breathing becoming sharp and fast, blood passing through your ears.

Pulling at the ends of your corset, you feel yourself unravelling, like you're about to cry, your head spinning as you see the images of the room in your mind swirling around you. You're welling up now, tears filling your eyes up to the brim and eventually pouring out like a boiling pot.

You try to calm yourself down and breathe but as your heart thumps faster and harder, your breathing becomes more and more shallow, and loud enough for people to hear you.

You don't want to be here. Anywhere but here. You wish you hadn't come in the first place. You just wanted to hide; and for someone to pull you out of this dreaded dreamscape that became your reality.....

"Hey!". Your eyes widen at the sound of that firm, yet calming voice, tears falling down your cheeks, your gaze fixed on the ground.

"Look at me"... You continue to stare at the floor, afraid to face to consequences of your emotional display.

"Look. At. Me".

The voice is much firmer. Her tone is rough... blunt, but there's an underlying softness shimmering underneath. Although with authority roughened around the edges, the fine line is sincerity above all.

There's no place to run this time, shrink yourself further or put a cloth over yourself to hide in security. You couldn't resist caving in under her spell and lifting your head up.

You slowly look up, and you're met with a stone-cold expression painted across her face, except for a tiny glint of concern showing up in her eyes.

"Breathe", she says. "Can you breathe for me?".

You nod, eyes widened and still in shock as you stare at her.

You look deeper into her eyes, relaxing yours after a while, and you try your very best to control your breathing, taking short, shallow breaths, slowly letting them become smooth and prolonged. You start to feel more relaxed.

Her eyes don't leave yours the entire time. It weirdly makes you feel better, knowing that she's there to calm you in your obvious time of need. You're able to calm your thoughts now, only focusing on her frosted pupils.

You look at her as if to ask for further instruction.

"Come here", she states, beckoning you over to her. You walk on over, timidly clasping your hands together, trembling with every step; and you end up very close to her, stood in between her legs, looking down at her in front of you.

"Straddle me"...

You gasp a little at her words.

Straddle her? How could you, after how embarrassed you are about this? About panicking this much in front of her?

And you haven't been that close to anybody in a very long time. That's why you panicked in the first place; it's been so long since you've been so open with someone regarding your body, and the last time didn't go too well. Your heart starts to beat again at the thought of being so close to her.

You swallow. "Uh, okay", you mutter. Eventually, you proceed.

Nervous, you put your hands on her shoulders, using her as leverage, and you lift each leg over hers, carefully sitting on her lap.

Nothing but goosebumps cover your whole body as you feel how sturdy her thighs are underneath your plump and fleshy ones. You felt the veins of her thighs and the firmness against your skin, her muscles flexing slightly. You feel your cheeks heating up at how strong she feels.

As you look into her eyes, her muscular yet soft hand travel slowly down your back, towards the side of your hip and onto your ass.

She looks at you completely deadpan, that concerned glint still in her eye, and she brings her metal hand up to rest on your cheekbone. The cold sensation of her metallic fingers sends a shiver down your spine...

"You want to tell me what that was about?", she asks, again quite sternly but with a kindness hidden in her tone.

"Uh....".

That question terrifies you. You haven't really talked to anyone about the insecurities surrounding your body, let alone how people have treated you for it. You've been bullied by others because of it your whole life; even one of the girls made fun of you today....

Telling anyone, especially Sevika, felt humiliating. She looks at you, patiently waiting for your answer.

"I... uh... I can't", you say in defeat, shaking your head towards the floor. You want to respond but you can't; you're just too scared.

She gently pulls your chin back to meet her eyes again, forcing you to answer. "Try".

Your eyes light up hearing her say that. Knowing that she wants to listen warms your heart in ways that you cannot explain.

No one has ever cared to ask how you feel besides your parents, and you'd never really made friends with people who genuinely appreciated you. Your ex? A whole different story. Having Sevika of all people want to hear you out, was nice.

"Well... okay. If you're open to listening", you reply, softly. She nods as a way of telling you to proceed, her fingers gently circling the sides of your hips.

"People... aren't really nice to me... well because I...because i'm fat". She raises her eyebrows.

"And, I'm just insecure about my body because of it. I just feel so ugly. That's why I got so scared when you asked me to.... you know..".

She looks at you and nods in understanding. "Hmm"... She thinks about what to say for a second.

"Well, fat doesn't mean ugly". She then scans your body, top to bottom. "And you're definitely not ugly". Sevika squeezes your ass, laughing slightly through a mischievous smirk, a danger in her eyes shining through.

Your cheeks warm up again at her words, a smile creeping up on your face.

"Really?", you ask...

"Fuck yeah". She looks at you, scanning you for the second time, drinking every inch of you in. "Pretty eyes, cute smile". Her metal thumb brushes gently against your chin. Your smile grows bigger as you hear her shower you with compliments.

"And your body? You got nothing to worry about, trust me". But then Sevika says this, and your smile slowly dissipates. You shake your head.

"You don't have to lie to me". You look back down to the floor again, tears starting to well up in your eyes. Back to square one.

Sevika, concerned, looks back at you. She exhales in defiance, unwilling to accept your negative self-talk, and places her hands firmly on your hips.

"Stand up", she commands, much to your surprise. You do as she says and stand in front of her, bewildered by the instruction, but still willing to follow through anyway.

She gets up out of her seat, turning you to face away from her, bringing her hands to touch you and lightly grab your waist. Slowly, she guides your body towards the mirror beside the couch, and she makes you do the most difficult thing you'd have to do in this interaction so far.

Face yourself.

Instinctively, you look away, head toward your shoulder, not wanting to see the flaws that are so obvious to you.

"Hey, look at yourself for me". Your head stays put.

"Look at yourself for me", she repeats emphatically, smirking away at you. Reluctantly, you look up and see yourself in the mirror....

There you are in your entirety. Eyes wide, cheeks full, lips parted slightly. Broad shoulders slanting on either side, the top half of your corset, hugging your breasts as your cleavage spills over; and the bottom revealing your rounded figure, your hips peering out below the high waisted panties you're wearing.

You notice your legs and the pudginess of your thighs; the way they lean into your knees and back out to your calves. Every part of your body, while you're cringing as you're looking at it, feels so cohesive. Like each part meshes wonderfully together.

"See? You got nothing to worry about", Sevika states, her hands delicately holding you in place. "Your body is beautiful. You're absolutely beautiful..."

Initially, you were staring at yourself with waves of uneasiness filling your insides, thoughts of how disgusting your body is to you, but the more you look, the more you think about how Sevika feels about you; the more you're finding things that you actually like about your body.

Like you've always loved how round your cheeks were, it made you look sweet...kind. And no matter how bad people made you feel for it, you didn't mind how wide and pointed your hips were; they made you feel beautiful sometimes; almost sexy?

Looking at your body like this, taking it all in, while scary at first, gradually started to feel better.

"Thank you.... Y-you've made me feel better, especially on my first day". You turn away from the mirror and look at her, shooting her a look of gratitude and holding her hands in front of you.

"Not a problem, princess". The 'scary lady' smiles, and walks you back to the couch, sitting back down with her legs spread. She slaps her thigh, twice, inviting you to sit on her lap.

And so, you do, confidently this time.

"So... how was your first day? Enjoy yourself?". Sevika chuckles and smiles to herself at her question, looking at you, securing your waist in her hand. "You know, besides the panic attack that I caused".

You both laugh heartily, yours coming out as a giggle rather than a chuckle as big as her own.

"Besides that, it was mostly nice. I'm glad I had you as my first customer; you make me feel...". You pause, trying to find the words. "You've made me feel worth it".

Sevika looks pleased hearing you say that. As much as she loves to go to the brothel to make herself feel good, after a long day's work; making the workers feel good has always been just as important to her.

"Good". She takes your chin in her hand and smooths her thumb over your soft lips. "I hope that panic attack was the only bad thing about your day".

"I wish", you mutter. Your eyes shift to the floor and Sevika scrunches her brow, surprised at your confession.

"Hmm? What happened to make you say that?", she enquires. You take a breath, getting ready to explain the other downsides of your day. You're not looking forward to this, but she's made you feel comfortable enough to express yourself.

"When I arrived, these girls... they started laughing at me. Laughing at what I looked like. I overheard one of them call me a name". You take a look at Sevika's face, and that unnerving scowl is back; and this time, the danger in her eyes has no flirty connotations.

"Show me". She demands. You furrow your brows, confused as to what she's asking you to do. But then it hits you, and you stand up and step towards that maroon-coloured curtain, bringing her with you.

You pull back the curtain and bring Sevika's attention to three women entertaining a customer in the room opposite yours, their drapery opened enough to see them.

A busty brunette with an hourglass figure, a rambunctious red head, blue eyes gleaming at whoever's in front of her, her loud cackle filling the room, and the queen bee, right in the middle.

Blonde , thin as a twig, batting her bright green eyes at the customer, flirting mercilessly with him. Her hair is slicked back into a ponytail, accentuating the height of her cheekbones, her lips pursed above her perfectly crafted jawline. You point at her tentatively whilst she seduces her prey.

"She's the one who called me a name", you announce, disapproval in your tone. Suddenly, you see her turn her head and catch your eye, and she smiles slyly at seeing you watch her. You immediately shut the curtain and turn your back towards them.

Sevika reflects on how triumphant she looked when she was talking. From her smile, all the way to her body language. The way she was sitting up straight, how she was playing with her hair, twirling the ends of it, the daggers in her eyes.

There was an arrogance to it; as if she thought she was above everyone else.

"She thinks she's the shit, huh?". Her distaste is crystal clear in her voice. You nod profusely in response.

"Haha... yep". You fold your arms, trying to shield yourself as you think about how that girl treated you.

Sevika glares towards the curtain in front of you both, seething at the thought of someone treating you that way. Then a sly smile of her own is plastered across her face. An idea she was definitely planning on following through with, filled her brain.

"Why don't we give her something to look at? Make her jealous." She nudges you gently, her head tilted, waiting for your answer.

"Ah... I don't know", you say apprehensively. You look at the curtain, and then back at her. You see her face, and she looks like she's trying hard to convince you.

It would be fun, you think to yourself, picturing that smug look on that girl's face disappear as you carry out whatever plan Sevika has concocted.

You close your eyes for a few seconds and open them back up with a newfound fire inside them.

"Okay!", you exclaim. "So, what's the plan?". Sevika seizes your hand and drags you outside of the room you were in, and takes a strong hold of your waist, both hands against your hips. In the corner of your eye, you see the queen bee look over to where you're standing.

Sevika leans over your shoulder, her mouth pressed up against your ear, the sensation of her lips brushing against it. "Can I kiss you?", she whispers.

Your breath hitches as your heart begins to fill with excitement. You accept the offer with a quick but soft nod of your head.

She takes your face in her hand and presses her lips against yours, feeling the warmth of your lips against hers. You kiss her back, cautious at first, unsure of what to do; but then you relax into it, and pull her into an embrace as her soft lips make yours tingle, lips brushing together; her breath tickling your nose.

She slowly pulls her lips away, leaving you with a proud look across her face, a large differentiation in yours. You look at her, dazed, stunned, disoriented.

"Wow..", you say. "That was...."

"Good?", she asks, laughing as she puts her hands on her hips.

"Yes, definitely". You giggle, putting your hand over your mouth bashfully. Sevika looks to see if "Blondie" noticed how well you were getting along, and it was safe to say she did. You turn to see for yourself, and that pompous look on her face went straight into a displeased frown in a matter of seconds.

Your giggle becomes a hearty laugh as your attention shifts back to Sevika. "I think we definitely made her jealous".

"I think that's fair to say, doll", she retorts, gently nudging you again. Sevika then clutches you tightly into her arms, surprising you and lifting you off your feet a little.

"Wait here for me". Then she releases you, going back into the private room you were in.

You wait there, hardly able to contain your excitement, fiddling with your hands and grinning up to your ears. Your heart racing, your mind thinking of all the things she could be doing, imagining what she thinks about you.

You've just met, but you can't help it. The amount of feelings that you have felt just from meeting her has already changed your life for the better. You hope that she'll come around and change it for the better again.

She pulls the curtain back and brings a large pouch, filled with money for your services. You almost forgot this was your job, until you saw that.

"I gotta pay you sometime, right?", she jokes. You smile, taking the money from her hands.

"Thank you, Sevika". You sway from side to side as you hold the pouch in your hands. "I hope you'll come around again?". You wait in anticipation, silently pleading for her to say what you want to hear. That she'll be back.

"Definitely". She leans down with her hand on your back, and places a kiss on your cheek, grinning in your direction.

"Goodbye now". She finally turns away, and before you can reply, confidently walking towards the exit.

You watch her in awe, wishing you could have said goodbye in your own little way, full of hope for your next interaction at The Gardens....

taglist: @archangeldyke-all @yer-boiiii @myrkkymato @abitohoney @abitohoney-fics @xthescarletbitch @sevikaspillowprincess

[itjazzbicch]

About Time

Pairing: Hwoarang x Reader 

Summary: Training together as they shared the same master, Hwoarang struggles to accept that he lost to the reader in the semi-finals, facing his rival Jin Kazama in the finals, and when the final match takes an unexpected turn, Hwoarang's true feelings for his close friend, the reader, rises to the surface...

Warnings:  Slight swearing, an injury (but that's about it!)

Word Count: 1.6k 

"What bull!"

Hwoarang only made me laugh as I followed him into the hall while the rest of the semi-finals were ongoing. We had both trained together with our master, Baek Doo San and when the King of The Iron Fist Tournament was announced, we both wanted to enter. Although Hwoarang's motivation was different than mine, I still gave it my all, and in the semi-finals, I managed to beat him in the toughest fight I've been in yet.

"Don't act so surprised!" I poked at him with a confident smile, "We've trained together for how long? You should know that I'm no pushover."

"I know," He groaned, huffing out in frustration and looking out to see that Jin Kazama had just won and would be seeing me in the finals.

That didn't help with his attitude; he gritted his teeth and was more frustrated that he couldn't get his hands on Jin now.

I think that it did somewhat help him accept his loss to me. How he gazed into my eyes showed that he respected me and my skill. There was still some attitude in his tone, but he put up his fist towards me, murmuring:

"Just beat up that punk, Jin, for me."

"Say less," I chuckled, fist-bumping him and sharing a smile, the determination to win in my gaze.

Heading back down to the stage, I had to focus. I had never faced Jin like Hwoarang, and I knew he was nothing to scoff at. Jin was the leader of Mishima Zaibatsu before and has won tournaments before.

Getting in stance as we faced off, I saw Hwoarang watching, how his eyes told me that he believed in me, which made my desire to win even stronger. I didn't want to let him down and get even closer to winning this whole tournament.

Just as I expected, Jin was making me work for this, but I ensured that every time I hit him, a lot of fire was packed into it.

At the climax of our fight, we were both sweating and panting, trying to end this. I sent out a kick that he blocked, but I could flip and hit him with my other foot, which sent him back. Running to close in our distance, I went to hit him with my signature kick that no one ever took without getting knocked out.

Mid-air, everything was in slow motion, and his eyes... They were red suddenly, these weird markings on his forehead. I could hear the growl he let out before he hit me with a punch that was so fast to see, feeling the unbelievable impact in my stomach.

It felt like I got struck by lightning or something, spitting out a loud groan as it sent me flying clear into the fencing of the ring, curling up into a ball. I was scared that my ribs may have been broken.

"I-I-" I was crying, not from the pain, but the fact that I had to say these words, holding up my hand, "I give."

"Your winner! Jin Kazama!"

The crowd was thrilled to see what a good fight that was, but something was up with Jin. His eyes were brown again, and when he looked at me, it seemed that he didn't realize what he had done, eyes filling with shock and concern as he saw me in this defeated and wounded state.

"Y/N..." He gasped, coming over to help me, "I'm-"

Reaching his hand toward me, there was this huge pop from the crowd, feeling a gust of wind and an angry yell:

"Get your damn hands away from Y/N!"

My pupils expanded at the sight of Hwoarang zipping in front of me, kicking Jin's hand away, then kicking the shit out of his chest that sent him reeling.

I knew that Hwoarang had been itching to get his hands on him, but this was different. The crowd was eating this up, and I noticed security coming in, trying to stand by, gripping and clinging to the fence.

"C'mon Jin! I'm not finished with you!"

Hwoarang was bouncing quickly in his stance, watching Jin like a tiger ready to strike as he was climbing off his knees, but something in me wouldn't let me sit and watch this, groaning out:

"Hwoarang! Stop it-"

That weird blow Jin hit me with really did a number on me, Hwoarang freezing and coming back to me as I fell to the mat again.

"I have you," He said quietly, his voice filled with anger, but he stuck to his word, scooping me into his arms.

It was already enough with how I felt so down from losing, now seeing Hwoarang like this. I was so much more emotional, hated how I looked so weak while curled up in his arms, both our eyes darting over to Jin, who was holding his chest from Hwoarang's kick, holding out his hand toward me:

"I never intended to harm you, Y/N..."

Staring intensely into his eyes, I felt he was telling the truth but hiding something about himself. When he punched me, it was like he transformed into something with this strange power that he didn't have control of. None of his previous strikes during our fight had such malice, making me question what happened to him during that last strike.

"Shut the hell up," Hwoarang spat, staring a hole through him and turning away with me, following the security line out and to the trainer's room.

Luckily, none of my ribs were broken, as I feared, but I needed to be wrapped up and some cold therapy for the pain. My head was hung low, confused and disappointed in myself, but my head perked up a little as Hwoarang stood before me, clearly still pissed and crossing his arms:

"So, what happened out there? I thought you had him."

"I thought so too," I sighed, staring at the floor as I told him what happened, "But while I was going to hit him with my kick, his eyes... They changed to red, and when he punched me, it was so strong and weird... I don't know how to describe it."

"His eyes turned red?" This perplexed him, but he let out a deep, angry sigh as he seemed to remember something, whispering under his breath, "That's right. He's got some strange power."

"What do you mean by that?" It was now clear to me that there was something about Jin that I didn't know, and the thought of it didn't cross Hwoarang's mind because he was so worked up about not making it to the finals.

There was this strange and suspenseful moment of silence, staring into each other's eyes as he mentally tried to find the words to explain it to me.

I didn't even care at that moment, my head falling again in disappointment, whispering to him:

"I'm sorry that I lost..."

"Don't even worry about it," He said quickly, squatting to look me in the eyes, smiling softly at me, "Seriously. You still gave him one hell of a fight."

"Thanks..." It was nearly impossible not to smile back, even if it was just a little, going back to the typical ways of our dynamic and poking at him a little, "I never seen you so pissed off before, just for me... Thanks for being there for me."

"Y-Yeah..." He stuttered a little, his cheeks turning pink as he stood back up and looked away, "It's no problem."

I had to laugh at how adorable he looked, holding my ribs but giggling to keep my pain down as he turned from pink to red, snapping at me playfully:

"Who are you laughing at, huh?!"

"I'm sorry," I wheezed softly, wincing at my ribs and seizing up.

"Stop laughing before you hurt yourself even more," He scolded, holding me upright by the shoulder, squeezing and getting some of the tension in my body to go away.

"That Jin sure is strong," I panted quietly, the pain making me say, "I should've let you kick his ass."

"Yeah, you should have," His eyes rolled but fixed on me, growing with more anger towards Jin as he noticed how hard I closed my eyes, fighting off some tears. Sitting me up in a position where my ribs wouldn't hurt as much, hugging me softly and whispering, "You can let it out if you need to, okay?"

As much as we toyed and messed with each other, knowing how deeply he cared for me made my emotions spike up again; gently hugging him back, again trying to cope with all the feelings by joking around again, whispering to him:

"Thanks, you big softy."

"Cut me a break," He huffed, chuckling himself and making me freeze when his head laid on mine, whispering back, "You should know by now that you're special to me."

My heart started pounding, something deep in my heart making me tilt my head, gazing up at him:

"Hey, Hwoarang..."

"Yeah?"

I couldn't contain how I felt about him, kissing him when his gaze met mine. His kiss back was so soft and sweet, holding his cheek as it grew deeper, his arms still gentle as they closed around me more.

Our lips broke away with a quiet gasp, but we shared a smile, telling him:

"You're special to me, too."

"Well, yeah, it's me." He was always so cocky, making me roll my eyes playfully, but I was the one who was all flustered when he kissed me when I wasn't looking, winking at me and chuckling as I looked at him with butterflies multiplying in my stomach, "About time this happened..." 

2024 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome 

[achelouise]

To you, My Lady

fandom: hsr

pairing: gallagher/FEM!reader

warnings: SPOILERS FOR 2.2 AND WRITTEN BEFORE 2.3

a/n: this may be the weirdest and most far-fetched I've ever written in terms of character interpretation, but I just needed to get something out of my system after playing 2.2, I cried like a little bitch

“You’re a History Fictionologist.”

Gallagher doesn’t respond. He should’ve known. You’ve always been too perceptive, no matter how much you mask yourself as a mess.

He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t have to; he knows the crease in your eyebrows, the raging hurt that is locked behind your frowning lips, tears prickling from the corners of your eyes. He has memorized it by heart, when he had broken your heart on several occasions.

He warned you. He had shut you down when you presented him with a bouquet of flowers, he left you to pack up your date meal on more times he can count, and barked out a condescending laugh every time you show him something you created.

And yet, you stayed. You tried to make this one-sided relationship work, and Gallagher doesn’t understand why. He also doesn’t understand why he didn’t straight-up push you away.

“Finally worked that brain of yours?” he snorts, “‘Bout time.”

Gallagher- he is merely a creation born from another pair of hands. He is a toy, a pawn, with a singular ambition; to make sure The Order never crafts their perfect world, a predetermined disaster.

Perhaps he is the creator. Perhaps he is the creation. He is a branch of the History Fictionologist.

A lie ceases to exist when the truth comes to light. His death is gradual, but he feels the instantaneous switch. The soft pull of the abyss, gently taking a part of carefully-mended facade. It won’t be so kind when the final hour comes. He’s sure you know, too.

This is expected, though. He has a meeting with Sunday later, and he will take him to Dreamflux Reef. There, he will bid the people he barely knew goodbye, and he will leave a single hound to watch over the old man.

He will have played his part.

Why did he delude you into thinking you two had a future together?

“Well.” You are clearly trying to hold back tears. The pathetic display wants to make him laugh. He doesn’t. He still doesn’t turn around. “This is it, then?”

Gallagher polished a glass. “There was never ‘this’, hun.”

“But I’ve seen the way you look at me.” you insist, “You aren’t as emotionally detached as you think you are.”

He pours in High Stakes, and plays around with the drink in the glass. “I didn’t think you were this dumb, love. You deluded yourself into thinkin’ we were something more. We’re not. To me, you’re as important as a passerby in this dreamscape.”

“Then why did you stay?” Your voice cracks. “Why didn’t you push me away?”

He drops in a dash of classic SoulGlad. “Hm. Maybe because you looked too pathetic. I dunno. I don’t feel much of anything.”

“And why are you leaving now?”

You sounded far too heartbroken, beyond the stricken looks you give him on a daily basis.

“‘Cuz you realized my identity. In a day or two, my form will be destroyed. I’ll continue exploring the cosmos in another body.” He squeezes in a Hanu sticker. It looks adorable. It reminds him of the smile you gave him the first day you met.

He still doesn’t turn around. “Darling, you have to realize you’ve been loving a dead man. I don’t know what it is about police officers and bartenders that make you hot’n bothered, but don’t run into another one.”

As he mixes his drink, there is only silence. He half-expects you to leave in a huff, but he knows better. You have never left in the long time you’ve known each other.

“... Then, if all my romantic gestures meant nothing to you,” you say, tenderly and still brimming with a love that annoys him, “Can I get one more kiss?”

“On the cheek.” He says coldly, putting down the drink on the counter. “And only because I’m basically dying.”

He closes his eyes as you turn him around. He hears a quiet hum, still sad and carrying grief, before he feels a soft brush of lips on his cheek. His hands cling to your waist, before they let go.

“Thank you.” you say, “And I’m sorry.”

He opens his eyes. Your smile is fragile and hopeless, but it carries a tinge of warmth, one that makes him close them again, because if he stares longer, something in his carefully-crafted heart may actually want to stay in this dingy apartment.

Will you go chase another man, when all is said and done? Will you marry him? Will he protect you and treasure you? Will he leave you, just as he did?

“Sure.” he answers, sliding the drink into your hands as he backs away.

He opens the apartment door, and doesn’t spare another glance. If he does, he may actually fear.

Before he leaves completely, he stops. “To you,” he murmurs, knowing you will hold onto his every word, “With this glass of ‘Farewell, My Lovely’.”

Leave. Don’t be delusional. Leave.

Hm. Perhaps he was the one deluding himself.

“To unfinished business.”

He shuts the door, and basks in the soft artificial moonlight.

He hears you wail.

He can only hope this is what Mikhail would have wanted.

[ottosuricatoblog]

"Fucked."

Author: it's been a long while since I've written anything, but my latest obsession with Sandor turned out into this. I hope you enjoy it! If you do so, let me know, I might continue their story!

Part 2 to this here

Link my masterlist

Y/N Stark was not an ordinary girl. Well, at least she was not what people in Westeros considered a 'proper' girl. She didn't like sewing, prefering to be outside practicing sword fighting or archery. She didn't enjoy dances or wearing fancy dresses, finding herself much more comfortable in other (sometimes much bloodier) scenarios. Being the oldest Stark, she is aware she was supposed to be married by now. She had turned down about 5 proposals of marriage, much to her mother's disgrace. Y/N didn't want to marry some butterfingered knight with the only purpose of getting knocked up. She had yet to meet a man who made her feel hot and bothered in the right places. Until that day.

The first time Sandor saw her, he knew she was going to be trouble. It happened when he visited Winterfell along with the King and the rest of the fuckers. When he took off the helmet and looked up, meeting her eyes, he felt something he had never felt before. It couldn't be love. Sandor 'the Hound' Clegane only knew hate. He didn't believe in love, let alone love at fucking first sight. But, when she smiled at him, all he could think was "I'm fucked."

After looking for him for a while, he found Sandor by the stables, leaning on a wall with a drink in his hand. She felt the same butterflies in her stomach she had when she saw him for the first time that morning.

"Don't enjoy a party?" Y/N asked with a smirk.

He turned his head in her direction, hoping it was not who he thought it was. When he saw her, he had the same feeling as this morning, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Prefer to be alone." He grunted, looking away.

His hoarse voice made her feel things she shouldn't be feeling.

"I'm Y/N Stark." She said, bowing. "And I won't bother you, Ser. Drinking alone next to horse shite seems like a fantastic plan."

Sandor looked at her again, finding a smug smirk in her face. Gods, that smile. "I'm no Ser. And you shouldn't be outside this late."

He stood up straight, which made her able to realize his actual height. He was huge compared to her. Well, compared to pretty much everyone.

"Oh, don't worry about me." She said. "I can take care of myself."

"Can you, now?" He let a little smirk show. He shouldn't be talking to her, let alone fucking flirting. What's wrong with him?

"Perfectly, eh..." She made a pause, suggesting him to introduce himself. She had to know the name of the man who's making her feel this way.

"Sandor." He said. "Sandor Clegane."

"I'll leave you to it then, Sandor Clegane." She turned to leave, looking at his lips for a few seconds beforehand. "Good night."

Watching her leave, all he could think about was the sound of his name, his real name, on her lips, and he wanted to hear it over and over again.

"Good night, little wolf." He whispered.

He avoided her as much as he could the following days, thinking that if he didn't see her, the feeling would go away. Yet, all he could think about was the movement of her legs as she walked away from him that night, her gaze on his lips, her own lips... It was driving him mad.

Y/N knew he was not going to initiate anything, so she decided to take the matter into her own hands. If he didn't want her, he would have to tell her himself.

Sandor was on the way to his chambers when he felt a hand on his forearm, dragging him into a room nearby. He tightened, motioning for his sword, but soon relaxed as he realized who it was.

"The fuck you doing?" He grunted, scanning the room. It looked like a storehouse of some kind.

"Well, hello to you too." She said, sarcasm evident in her voice and a smirk on her face.

He stood there, taking a look at her. The light in the room was dim, but he could appreciate her figure. She wasn't scared of him or disgusted by his face. Instead, she was standing there, teasing him, with that fucking smile on her face.

"I've been meaning to talk to you." She started. "But it seems we don't seem to happen to meet."

"Here I am." He says, his voice low and husky. "Talk."

She feels her nipples become hard at his tone, and she bits her lip.

His gaze moves to her breasts, his cock becoming hard at the sight. She's standing there, biting her lip, and looking at him with a look that makes him weak in the knees.

"If you keep looking at me like that, dove..." He sighs, taking a step towards her. He shouldn't, and he knows.

She instinctively takes a step back, meeting a wall. Looking up at him, she finds the courage to talk. "What are you going to do, big boy?"

He places a hand above her head on the wall, leaning into her. "Tell me to stop, Y/N." He whispers, their mouths approaching. "Tell me to stop because if you don't, I don't think I'm..."

She interrupts him by pressing her lips to his in a passionate kiss. He groans, kissing her back.

She throws her arms around his neck and, in response, he picks her up, her legs around his waist. She feels his tongue on her bottom lip, asking for permission, which she gladly gives him.

"Sandor." She moans against his lips.

"Fuck." He grunts, pressing her harder against the wall and moving his lips to her neck.

They make out for a few minutes. He doubts he's ever been harder and judging the sounds Y/N is making, she's pretty affected as well. This makes it really hard for him to stop, but he has to.

"Little wolf, I really don't want to stop, but we need to." He says against her lips. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"Sandor, I want you." She moans, kissing him again. "I don't care about my father, about my brothers or the fucking King."

This makes him laugh and he leans his head on her shoulder. "I'm not fucking you in a storehouse."

She groans desperately. "Why not?"

He laughs again, setting her on the ground. "Because I'm pretty sure you're a virgin." He starts, and she blushes. "Because you're Y/N Stark." He caresses her face. "And because I don't deserve you."

She frowns. "It's not for you to decide who I fuck, Sandor. I am a virgin, and I am Y/N Stark."

Sandor sighs.

She holds his face. "I hadn't felt this way about anybody in my life. I hadn't felt an urge to kiss someone, to be near someone."

He knows exactly what she's talking about, because he's feeling the exact same, so he leans in and kisses her. The kiss is different from the ones before, it's sweet.

"I'll come find you tonight." He whispers against her lips.

He turns, opening the door and holding it for her. She smiles at him, kissing him one more time before leaving. He stays in the room, smiling to himself. He is indeed fucked.

Part 2 here

[mechanicalpiper]

Another snippet since I've got time to kill and a resurfacing interest to sate

A cocky Hero finally gets caught by Villain and both are *way* too happy about it :3

cw: also suggestive and also kidnapping

Snippet #2

The Villain could hardly contain themself.

After such a long time fighting the Hero, such a long time wanting the Hero... They could hardly believe they'd finally won.

They could hardly believe the hero was finally theirs.

But here they were, waiting eagerly for the sedated hero to finally wake up. Villain had them bound to a chair just as planned, arms and legs held firmly yet safely held against the chair's armrests and legs respectively with the soft silk rope they spent hours picking out in advance- the hero looked even prettier than they could've imagined! Just realizing it all again almost made them squeal in delight for probably the ninth time so far.

They wanted to have the Hero in this position for so, so very long. The person they'd been melting over in every fight they had, the one that caused the Villain to launch entire schemes just to draw them out and hear their adorable voice again, the one they'd imagined in this exact scenario so often- and here they were, completely at the Villain's mercy... their fate entirely out of their control...

Villain snapped out of the daydream hearing a small, precious groan from the Hero. They were finally waking up!

Villain shook their head to get back to reality, standing up, brushing their suit off a little, and moving to be standing in front of the Hero, not too close yet still towering over them ominously. Villain loved the feeling of being the one on top; loved the feeling of being the one in Control. Not in control of the city, what they'd always said was their end goal, but in control of the one thing they'd always truly wanted.

Hero groggily awoke, still looking down semi-consciously. They tried to bring a hand up to their aching head, but it didn't budge, and Villain got the cutest little view of the Hero snapping out of their tired haze, pulling against their restraints as they realized they were securely bound, and best of all, their precious little expression of stifled panic as they looked up and saw who their captor was.

"Sleep well, Hero~?"

Villain let out an absolutely delighted giggle as they watched Hero's struggles ramp up, helplessly squirming in the chairtie in a display so wonderfully pathetic the Villain could hardly believe this was the same person that had cockily made short work of their plans so many times before.

Hero's heart was absolutely racing as they squirmed under Villain's taunting gaze, knowing they were relishing every little detail of what they were seeing. Hero was panicked thinking of all the destruction Villain could cause with them out of the picture, everything they could get away with without the Hero there to stop them... or, that's what the Hero wanted to think.

Of course, they were terrified of everything Villain could do with this opportunity, but terror never made their heart race like this. Fear never made their breathing quicken like this. They were well versed in staying composed in dangerous situations- it was their job, after all- so why was this getting such a reaction out of them?

A small part of them, one they desperately tried to ignore, knew exactly why.

"Hmmm? No snarky comments, huh?" The Villain taunted, adrenaline helping them keep their composure and attitude despite their brain being an absolute mess of adoration in the same way it let them power through the pain in a fight. "That's a first. You're always such a loudmouth. Not used to losing, hmmm?"

The Hero glared back up at them, trying hard to keep a look of defiant anger- the Villain almost melted at the way it seemed to slightly falter, the Hero finally showing genuine worry instead of the cocky confidence that somehow never seemed to backfire on them.

"L-Losing? You haven't won yet." Hero spat back. "This doesn't mean the city's free to take. I'm not the only line of defense. And I k-know you won't be able to keep me here for long."

The Villain had never heard the Hero stutter before- their heart just about melted.

"Oh? So you're admitting you can't do a thing to stop me right now~?" Villain teased back, leaning in slightly which Hero matched by leaning back a little. "No comebacks in that snarky lil head of yours but telling me that maybe the other obstacles will do better than you?"

Hero grit their teeth, infuriated, pushing down every other emotion coursing through their mind at the moment. They tried to think of something to say, some razor-sharp retort as they always could, but for the first time they drew a blank.

For the first time in a while, they didn't know what do to. For the first time ever, they didn't know if there was anything they could do.

For the first time ever, the Hero felt completely helpless.

And the worst part, by far, was the fact they liked it.

"Awwwwh, drawing a blank? Can't find a single retort in that pretty lil head of yours?"

The Villain didn't quite mean to let that one slip out, but seeing the Hero's reaction, they didn't regret it for a second.

The Villain watched their helpless squirms ramp up again, the Hero breaking eye contact. As if they were trying to hide.

The Villain leaned in a little more, slowly approaching their captive. They didn't know if continuing was the best idea, but the Hero was so, so unbelievably precious. The Villain couldn't get enough of seeing the Hero like this, and against rationality, wanted more. Wanted more of the Hero's squirms, more of their fruitless attempts to retort, more of the feeling of being in control of them.

"Struggling isn't gonna get you anywhere, sweetheart." They continued. "And something tells me you know that, don't you~?"

Hero's suppressed emotions became harder and harder to keep down. They'd never felt anything like this before, but as they thought about it, as the Villain's teasing pushed them more and more, it became increasingly apparent that they had felt like this before.

This was just the first time they couldn't convince themself they didn't.

"There's no snappy comeback or well-timed attack to save you this time, honey~" The Villain continued. "And you're absolutely adorable, vulnerable like this~"

The Hero's thoughts were absolutely flooding.

They hated this. They hated the fact they liked this. Not because they hated the idea, but because they thought they couldn't have it.

They couldn't imagine what would happen if something like this got out anywhere, especially not the Agency. They knew this could easily shatter their reputation as a hero if it got out. They wanted to hide from it. They hated that they couldn't.

But it felt so, so good.

They so badly wanted to give in. They always had.

...but... this time, they had an excuse to end up in this situation. They were kidnapped. They'd be missing for a few days anyways. Nothing that happened here would be known anywhere else.

M-Maybe it wouldn't hurt to give in to it...?

"Hey, eyes on me, honey." The Villain teased, gently grabbing the Hero's chin and tilting their head to look at them.

The view they were met with was absolutely perfect.

The Hero had a bright red blush on their face. They liked it! They liked it!! The Villain couldn't resist but let out the squeal they'd been holding in. The Hero was precious beyond description to them. They'd been waiting for this- wishing for this- for so, so very long. They were bursting with excitement upon getting a hold of the Hero at all, and the way they looked in the ropes, their precious squirms, their cocky attitude finally dropping... this entire experience had been like a dream to them, and it got better in the only way it somehow could.

The Villain's view- the Hero helpless, their defiant look collapsed, their beautiful eyes not showing anger but instead almost pleading, the Villain lifting their chin to look at them to be met with a telltale sign that they were enjoying this all- it felt like a dream. They couldn't believe it.

After a pause to fully comprehend what was happening, the Villain finally gathered enough composure to say something.

"...You're mine~"

And the Villain had never in their life heard anything more wonderful than the quiet, embarrassed, precious whisper that came out of the Hero's mouth in response...

"...I'm y-yours."

[madsnowstorm]

take me home for christmas | j. seresin | part one

please come home for christmas - charles brown

summary : jake wants to take you home to texas for christmas to meet his family.

warnings — series, 18+, fem!reader, established relationship, some angst, family dynamics (both healthy and not), mentions of therapy, no religious aspect to the holiday, dogs named after famous texans

notes — i've been on a soft boy!jake kick lately and was totally inspired by holiday traditions.

series masterlist

Jake Seresin did not beg. Most of that was due to him almost always getting his way. Sometimes it was due to his southern charm, other times it was because he did not accept no as an answer. He would fight and argue and flirt his way to his desired outcome…but he did not beg. That is why he caught you off guard around the end of November. You were both cleaning the dishes after hosting Friendsgiving for all your friends that couldn’t make it back home for the holiday. You’d just handed him the last dish to dry when he cleared his throat. You tipped your head in curiosity.

“Would you consider going home with me for Christmas?” You froze. Jake had a huge family made up of his parents, four siblings and their partners, and a whole horde of nieces and nephews. You’d heard plenty of stories about all of their Seresin family traditions for the holidays. Jake would always get a certain nostalgic gleam in his bright green eyes whenever he talked about them. It stood in stark contrast to how you spent holidays growing up. 

You bounced back and forth between your parents and it almost always ended up with them trying to outdo one another. Snide remarks and rude questions about how the other parent was doing were the only holiday traditions you had. Once college came around you were thankful for choosing a school, and subsequently a career, on the other side of the country. It made avoiding holidays easier. In fact, you didn’t really start to enjoy holidays until you began dating Jake. 

The two of you actually met at a New Year’s Eve party and even that night he taught you to appreciate the bubbles of champagne and the sentiment of Auld Lang Syne and the fun surprise of a midnight kiss. On Valentine’s Day you didn’t go an hour without some sort of sickly sweet, yet adorable, token of affection. Your birthday was full of flowers and doting. The Fourth of July informed you about the importance of a perfect char from the grill and the best American beer. Even Friendsgiving, which you took part in for the first time earlier that evening, was full of warmth and spices and gratitude like you’d never experienced. (As well as the National Dog Show which you never watched before, but were thoroughly invested in by the end) But Christmas with family? It created a sense of dread deep in your stomach.

“Darlin’?” That’s when you noticed he was standing there, dishcloth thrown over his shoulder, eyes shadowed with concern. You looked down at your hands which were shoved under the soapy water. You quickly pulled them out of the, making sure to pull the stopper so the suds could drain. Jake handed you the dishcloth from his shoulder. You wiped your hands with the damp towel. “Did you hear me?” His tone was not accusatory, but kind.

“Yes.” You took a breath and then let out a slow exhale. At this point, you could tell he knew something was up, but was patiently letting you work through your thoughts and emotions. “I…Just let me finish cleaning this up.” At this point your need for control was taking over. Even though time and therapy stood between you and the pains and aches of your childhood, sometimes all it took was one word or moment to bring old feelings back. Cleaning was one of things you knew you could easily control. The routine of it helped center your mind. Jake knew this and instead of fighting you to help you finish he just nodded.

“Alright sweetheart. I’m going to take Nelson out for a quick walk and then lock up for the night. I won’t be gone long.” Nelson was his Irish Setter that had been named after Willie Nelson. As you got the cleaning caddy out from its spot underneath the kitchen sink you could hear him talking to Nelson about not barking his head off if he saw the neighbors cat.

You got to work on cleaning the kitchen. The first thing on your mental checklist was to wipe down the kitchen sink, making the stainless steel shine. Once the sink was done you moved onto the countertops. The brightness of the lemon scented multi purpose cleanser almost brought you back to the warm feelings you were having before thinking back on your childhood. After the countertops you made sure the stovetop was spotless. The last things you did were sweeping and running the Swiffer over the floor. You wanted to get the mop and its bucket out, but it was already getting late when you started. The back and forth motions gave you something to match your breathing to, which aided in calming you down as you thought about your boyfriend’s question.

Jake knew how you felt about holidays. Why would he ask you to go home with him? Except, you knew why he asked. He was so good at pushing you out of your comfort zone, while also offering you a safe place to land. It made trying new experiences easier. There were so many things in your life you’d convinced yourself you didn’t enjoy because of your parents. Your therapist brought this to your attention before you met Jake, but having him with you made you brave. Perhaps this time was no different.

You tucked the caddy back where it belonged once you were finished, washed your hands, and then took a moment to survey your work. It was gleaming, almost sparkling, and no one would even know there were twelve people packed in the house earlier that night. You smiled thinking over all of Jake’s Navy buddies and their partners scattered all around the house, turning off the light as memories filled your head. You’d been hesitant about that too, but you’d not had a better Thanksgiving.

“All done, sweetheart?” Jake asked as you walked into the living room. He was sitting on the couch, laptop balanced on his lap, Nelson napping at his feet. You weren’t sure when they’d gotten back from their walk. Time got away from you while in the kitchen. He looked so comfortable and so at ease with the world. You envied that.

“Mhmm.”  You nodded and sat on the other side of the couch. He closed his laptop, placed it on the coffee table, and opened his arms. You crawled into them and Jake pulled you closer, placing you on his lap. The room filled with your giggles and his low chuckles. “I think I’m ready to talk about it.”

“Alright. Let’s talk then.” Jake moved his fingers over your face, pushing your hair back. You didn’t think he was doing it on purpose, but it stoked a fire in you. Your boyfriend, who was so arrogant and brash, could be so sweet with you. “What do you think about coming to Texas with me for Christmas?” You took a moment, eyes roaming over his face, before answering.

“The thought of it makes me nervous.” Instead of interrupting you as you’d expected, he patiently waited for you to continue. “You know about how things were for me growing up.” Jake nodded, running his hands up and down your back. If he kept it up, you would soon be putty in his hands. “The idea of spending a holiday with your family makes those childhood feelings resurface.”

“Babe, I understand what you are saying and why those emotions are coming back to the surface, but I know in the deepest part of my heart that this would be a Christmas different from any you’ve experienced.” The sincerity in his voice wanted to make you melt.

“But what if your family doesn’t like me?” You’d yet to meet the Seresin clan. Plans had been made for Jake’s parents  to come and visit the previous summer, but due to an unexpected detachment for Jake, those plans were put on hold. You knew your question sounded so juvenile, but it was one of your biggest insecurities.

“They already love you.” It took all your will power to not roll your eyes at that.

“They don’t know me!” You didn’t count the occasional awkward conversations on speaker phone in Jake’s kitchen as you worked on dinner as knowing someone.

“I love you therefore they have no choice but to love you too.” His belief about it was sweet, but in your opinion completely unrealistic.

“That’s not how that works, J.” You countered with a laugh. 

“Please, love? I want you to know them and them to know you. I love you and I know they will too. You’ve told me about how things were for you growing up and how toxic the holiday’s could be. Let me, let us, show you that things can be different.”  He kissed your cheek, followed by your nose, and lastly your lips. Jake Seresin never begged, but he was begging now. You knew that meant he thought this trip was important.

“Okay, Jake. Take me home for Christmas.” Jake kissed you again, this kiss lasting longer than the previous. You moved your hands from his shoulders to the nape of his neck. Slowly, your fingers moved up into his hair, scraping your nails lightly against his scalp. He groaned, moving his lips from yours, over your jaw and down your neck. “You know where else you can take me?”

“Where is that, darlin’?” His accent was thicker than it was moments again.

“To bed.” He didn’t waste a moment, picking you up and yelling out to his Google home to turn off the living room light, all in the same breath. You both laughed as he tried to carefully make it to the stairs.

“Don’t let me fall!” You squealed as he started to climb them. 

“I would never.” The playful tone in his voice was gone. Instead he was now serious. The look in his eyes took your breath away. You’d never met a man like this; a man who could cause your heart to both go crazy and to stop without warning. Despite his constant need to be an arrogant asshole most of the time, you knew that mostly an act. The real Jake was the one who was currently holding you. The one who loved you and wanted to take you home to meet the family. The one that made being brave worth it. 

Maybe Christmas wouldn’t be so bad this year.

[mistyresolve]

Not sure if you’re doing requests still.

If want to ignore this, feel free.

How I was wondering how would Ghost and Gaz react if their s/o had sweet goofy Labrador that fellow them around and flop onto their laps, whenever they sat down?

Something super cute?

Word Count - 1.7k

Tags/Warnings - Fluff, puppiess

A/N - I've recently been so unbelievably obsessed with livestock guardian dog....I'm well aware that a lab is not the right breed but still

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form 

Ghost 

You had come to visit the base on your day off. And just like every other time you did so, you brought your dog, Archie, with you. She was a 2-year-old energetic, long-haired golden lab, who had yet to grow out of her puppy faze. Always tripping over her still-too-big feet and chewing on anything and everything.

Archie was well known around the base, and the boys adored her. She got all the attention a dog could want. And more.

Archie also had an unpredictable favourite, whom she always ran to first, and everyone for when he appeared. Including you. You always had a hard time getting her back in the car when it was time to leave when Ghost was around. On more than one occasion you have had to ask him to go hide somewhere so she would listen to you.

It was so bizarre because aside from the occasional pat on the side, he basically ignored her. Ghost never seemed to mind though. He never once complained about being “inconvenienced” or annoyed by Archie following him around. Frankly, you had your suspicions that he enjoyed the dog's company. 

As soon as you let Archie out of the back seat she booked it for the hanger, leaving you in her dust. You didn’t feel the need to recall her and already knew the rest of the team would be there—sitting around one of the Humvees, pretending to be working on it. The oversized garage doors were pushed open, and when she disappeared through them and into the building you could hear the guys greeting her.

“Hello, pretty girl!” you didn’t need to see him to know it was MacTavish and him putting on the iconic puppy voice, “Who’s a good girl?” he said, knowing damn well the moment Ghost showed up Archie would forget he ever existed. 

Then Price’s voice, “Archie,” followed by playful barking. They were definitely riling her up, “Where’s your mom, huh?” 

Before you rounded the corner you knew she was running in a circle, greeting each and every one of them, expecting a pat and scratch. When she saw you enter after her, she barked once in acknowledgment, before continuing her rounds. 

You took a seat in the circle, jumping into the conversation they were having before they arrived. Much to your surprise, they were significantly dirty; so they were actually working on the Humvee before this. 

Archie disappeared further into the hanger, doing a quick perimeter check. Obviously, she was looking for a certain someone. When she came back, too soon, it meant that Ghost wasn’t around, so she was making do with her second favourite, Soap. She was on her back, exposing her belly for rubs. To which Soap obliged, as it was his end goal to overthrow Ghost. 

You looked around, “Where is Ghost?” It was strange that he wasn’t here. It was near the end of the day on a Friday. Usually, they all met up for the last few hours to bullshit before heading out for drinks. 

At the sound of his name, Archie perked up, looking to you for confirmation. When she realized he still wasn’t here she turned her attention back to Soap. Whom frowned at you, “You’re not supposed to bring him up.”

“He and Gaz took twenty-two out for a test drive,” Price checked his watch and then rocked back in his seat with a frown, “Should have been back by now though.”

22 was the other Humvee that was normally parked in the hangar, a “22” stencilled onto the side of the hood. 22 was a “Project of Passion”, given to the 141 as a joke a year ago. The damn thing didn’t start when we first got it. But the guys saw it as an offence and vowed to get it back on the road. 

His ears must have been burning because shortly after you asked, you heard the rumble of the vehicle approaching. It pulled into the open space before someone killed the engine, and the doors slammed shut.

“Fucking piece of shit.” 

That was definitely Ghost. 

Archie sprung up from her spot at Soap's feet, meeting up with Ghost as he emerged around the back of the Humvee. He was using a rag to wipe something off his hands angrily when his entire demeanour changed,  “Hey, Archie-girl,” he dropped to one knee, getting down to her level to give her a good scratch behind the ear. She was wagging her tail so hard that her entire body swayed with it. Her mouth was open as she panted in excitement. 

Soap leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, sulking. 

Ghost stood back up. That would be all the attention he would give Archie and it was like he gave her the moon, “Engine nearly blew up,” at some point, he had taken off his jacket, and was wearing just a green t-shirt. His arms were stained black from car oil. He walked back to 22 and this time everyone followed after him, curious as to what the issue was. 

The jacket hanging over the open window was all the evidence you needed to know why he had taken it off. The black stains on his arms mirrored those on his jacket. Only way worse. 

Both you and Soap had to avoid eye contact with each other or you’d probably laugh right in Ghost’s face. 

The hood was propped up already and Gaz was bracing his weight on it as he leaned forward, looking exasperated. 

You jumped up onto the work table to watch them contemplate what to do next. Soap asked a question and both Ghost, and Gaz groaned. Ghost invited Soap to take a look underneath the vehicle, the two of them sliding beneath it so only their bottom halves were visible. 

Archie joined them. 

Immediately. And enthusiastically.

She crouched low and inched herself until she was right next to Ghost. She didn’t interrupt him as he explained what he was thinking was wrong to Soap. When they came back out Archie again followed them. 

After an hour of back and forth, they decided to give it up for the day. Sitting back around in a circle, Archie had squeezed herself between Ghost’s feet and the chair, her head resting on his shoe. She was alert and watching everyone around her, but she was calm. 

You silently noticed how Ghost kept his foot extra still, careful not to disturb the pup. 

Admittedly, the sight of him being so attentive to her presence did something to you. There was a little bit of history between you and Ghost, but both of you agreed that getting attached to each other in this line of work could be dangerous. Torturous, even. Although you no longer actively seek him out, you still have feelings for him. 

Archie must have sensed all that and made a dog-equivalent bond with him. 

You shared that same peace and excitement when around him.  

Gaz

It was the next day and Gaz was given the day off. Why? Because he requested it? Why? Because it was Yogi’s birthday. 

Gaz had taken Yogi to get a cut and groom, a pup cup, and then let him run wild in the pet store. When they came home at the end of the day, Yogi was wearing a little blue bandana from the groomers and Gaz was carrying a bag full of toys and chewies.

“Oh my goodness,” you exclaimed upon seeing the Yogi, crouching to his level to get a better look at him, “Aren’t you the most handsome boy.”

When it was time for dinner, Gaz had given Yogi his own “plate”. He went so far as to garnish it with a milk bone.  

Now it was 9 p.m. and you and Gaz sat on either side of the couch. His legs propped up on the ottoman, his ankles crossed. An arm draped over the back of the sofa, his other hand resting atop your dog, mindlessly petting him. You played with the end of his tail. If only because that was all you could reach without having to splay across the sofa. 

You were halfway through your movie when you had an epiphany.  

“He’s hardly my dog anymore,” you frown, waving a hand at the scene in front of you. 

Gaz lazily turned his head over to you, “Hmm?”, Then he followed your gaze to the dog on his lap, “Oh. He hasn’t been your dog for a while,” he said matter-of-factly and gave your senior dog a pat on the shoulder to add emphasis. 

Yogi’s tail begins to wag, beating you in the leg with it. It was like adding salt to a wound. You raised Yogi from when he was 8 weeks old. He was now 10 and his brown fur had long since turned grey around his face. 

He’s known Gaz for all of 3 years.

They must have made a little boy pact at some point during those three years because there was no clear day or moment Yogi stole his heart back from you and gave it to Gaz…

“Don’t say that,” you glared over at him, “he’s my baby.” 

Gaz smiled, “Nah. He’s a big boy,” he moved to scratch under his jaw, right where he liked it most, “Yogi’s a man. A man-dog.” 

…That or Gaz was ploying him with threats when you weren’t around. 

Down the hall, the washing machine beeped. Since it was Wednesday, it was Gaz’s turn to do laundry. Most of it being his clothes and uniforms. He tapped on Yogi, signalling for him to get up. Yogi was slow moving but he jumped from the couch, stretching out with a yawn. 

You paused the movie so Gaz wouldn’t miss any while he was switching laundry, “Yogi…” you said in the saddest, most pathetic voice you could muster when the old dog started after your boyfriend; all too willing to abandon you on the couch. He looked back at you and began to make his way back to you. Without a doubt, it was out of obligation and not want. 

“Yogi,” his name was echoed down the hall. 

That was it took and the dog carried on down the hall. 

“You Judas,” you mumbled to him, knowing he was half deaf. 

And a dog.

Masterlist

A/N - Sorry Gaz's part is so short...I've never really written the guy before :/

Taglist - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 

[dokidokitsuna]

Felt like showing off the "redesigns" of the Grand Festival outfits that I did for my most recent Today's Work video. I just wanted to see how they'd look with some colors on 'em...and they are nice. ^^ Of course, if/when I do actual redesigns, they'll be a lot more effortful than this...

I've been enjoying the Grand Festival so far, I think. Walking around the grounds and listening to the concerts is surprisingly mesmerizing; they really nailed the ambiance. ^^ It was fun scrolling Twitter during my lunch break yesterday and watching everyone scream about the merch (that they can't have) and the idols (that they've already seen performing a million times before). ^^;;; If there's one defining feature of Splatoon's fanbase, I'd say it's unbridled joy and enthusiasm~.

I think it also goes to show that building an intricate, believable 3D environment can do a lot to make players feel immersed and included, even if they can't really interact with anything. The "Cheer" and "Bounce" etc. options are also great examples of 'a little goes a long way'; they're extremely cute. ^^ I wish we had them for earlier Splatfests...

There's just one little detail of this celebration that nags at me though, to be honest...Splatoon composers, blink twice if you need help. (⊙_⊙;;;)

When I realized that they did new arrangements for the concert performances, AND some of the in-game music, AND the victory and loss music...I began to feel something I call 'consumer's guilt'. :/

Like, of course we should get lots of special music for the Special final Splatfest, but it's been like this for the whole 2 years...special music for every holiday Splatfest, special music from the splatbands for the new seasons, random single drops from the idols throughout the year, dozens of tracks just for Side Order...considering the amount of time and effort that goes into composing and producing just one song it's hard for me to believe that they've had any time to rest, or even to just work at a reasonable pace.

It's only natural for this constant demand for content to take a toll on the quality of their work, and I feel that it has...interestingly, though, I feel the lowest-quality tracks are the earliest ones. '_' Like, splatoonwiki.org has a music page, where the music for each game is separated into sections...and the Multiplayer section for Splatoon 3 is the only one that I have no interest in opening. That is to say, the music we hear most often, while playing the main attraction of the game itself, is in my opinion 90% forgettable slop.

Back when the unofficial soundtrack first came out and I listened to the first 2 hours during a long commute, I remember being really disappointed that not even one C-Side song resonated with me...and the rest to follow weren't much better. To this day, every time some Splatoon battle music gets stuck in my head, it's always something from 1 or 2 (i.e. the games I never played ^^;) I can't even recall what 3's battle music sounds like on command...I hear it every day, and yet it all just slides right off my brain. Even the tracks from established splatbands...none of their 'new' stuff hits the same.

If I had to guess, the composers knew very far ahead of time all the stuff they would have to do, and decided to rush through the generic squid-rock to focus on the interesting stuff. If I had both Deep Cut's and C-Side's music on my schedule, I know which one I would want to devote the most time to. And if I had to develop a totally new sound for Free Association (the entity responsible for the music in Side Order, reflecting its surreal techno-industrial vibes) and H2Whoa (a random new splatband that only exists to ring in Drizzle Season 2023) I know which project would be more interesting to me, and inspire more creative choices.

...In a perfect world, though, ALL the music could be of similar quality and creativity, because they wouldn't have to make so much so often! >_< I mean, I know music is central to Splatoon's identity (it's what got me into the series in the first place) but I feel like things are getting out of hand...something about this constant deluge of new music doesn't feel sustainable. I've seen composer burnout before, and because music is so important to this franchise, I'd hate to see it happen here...

[cerridwen007]

Her.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader.

Word count: 1.6k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: After the events of last week where Javier watched you pleasure yourself through your window, he decides to visit you and admit to watching you pleasure yourself. Which causes you to have a surprising reaction to his behavior.

Inspired by song Her by Satino Le Saint.

Warning/notes: SMUT, swearing, unprotected p in v, oral (f recieving), a bit of body worshipping, No use of y/n, bad Spanish.

A/N: Part two is here, yall. Thank you all so much for the love on the first fic I posted in this series. I hope you enjoy this one just as much, and I am currently working on part 3 at the moment, so I hope to get part 3 posted in the next week or so too. As always, likes, comments, and reshapes are very much appreciated.

Part one: She. Part three: The Two of Us.

******

"Come on Peña, grow some balls." Javier grunted quietly to himself.

He was outside your apartment door, his hand held up ready to knock, yet he had stood outside your door for 7 minutes straight, overthinking every single reaction you could possibly have to his spontaneous visit.

He had half a mind to turn around and go home, pretend it never happened, that he never went up to your place to admit he was guilty for watching you and maybe admit that he wants to see you again.

But he didn't, somewhere, deep down he knew he couldn't leave without telling you, at the very least seeing your beautiful face, that eased the days pain away in a blink of an eye. Before he changes his mind, his knuckles firmly rapped against your door.

Your eyes widen a little, surprised at hearing a knock at your door when you weren't expecting anyone, so you move to your door hesitantly. Your eyes widen even more when you look out your doors, peep hole, and see Javier standing there. You quickly unlock your door and open it to Javier's concerned face.

"Javier....hi." You say breathlessly.

"Hi Hermosa." Javier responds sheepishly.

A long moment passes where the both of you just look at each other, finally seeing each other after so long.

You clear your throat. "Oh, come in."

Javier smiles softly as he walks into your apartment. You close the door behind you.

"Uh, would you like something to drink?"

"Sure...yeah that would be great."

He sits himself down on the couch as she pours him a drink of whiskey and passes it to him, their fingers gently brushing each other for a split second.

"So is there a certain reason you came to visit me tonight or..."

"Oh yeah... I uh came to tell you something...to admit something to you."

Your mouth draws into a tight frown, expecting him to admit something like he's been seeing other people. He clears his throat after taking a big swig of his drink.

"I uh came to check up on you after work the other week and I saw that you were home....and I saw you went to your room to sit on your bed...." He looks down at the floor awkwardly.

Your eyebrows creased together, showing your confusion, and your eyes widened in shock as you realized what he saw you doing.

"I know I shouldn't have watched, but I couldn't help it, and I've felt bad and creepy about it all week, so I decided I should come clean and tell you."

You face relaxes, and your mouth curves up into a small smirk.

"Did you enjoy the show?"

He looks up at you, surprised.

"I can't lie....yes."

You lick your lips smiling and grab his half empty glass and put it on the coffee table behind you before lifting his head up and push him back into the couch so you can straddle him.

"Is that right....did you get yourself off while watching me fuck myself on my fingers..to the thought of you."

He looks up at you shocked, he feels his cock start to harden under your warmth.

"Yeah, I did... you thought of me?"

You bite your lip and nod, leaning down to his ear.

"I called out your name as I came....God I wished it was your fingers making me feel good like they always do."

He closes his eyes and groans as you speak seductively into his ear.

"Did you miss me like I missed you, Javier?" You say kissing softly below his ear.

He answers you by turning to face you and grabbing your jaw tightly and kissing you passionately. You moan into the kiss and kiss him back just as hard. You start grinding into his lap, feeling his growing erection under you.

"Fuck cariño, your driving me mad. You know you had me fucking my fist at work multiple times a day thinking bout your pretty little moans when I fucked your tight little cunt, that I missed so much... nearly got caught a few times." He growls.

Your pussy throbs at his confession as you start grinding more feverishly, kissing down his neck and jaw, moaning at his familiar taste on your lips and his hard cock under you, that had you throbbing in anticipation of being filled with.

He lifts you off his lap by your ass and carries you to your bed. He gently lays you down and starts kissing you as he undoes his shirt.

"Fuck I missed your body beautiful body so much mi amor."

He stands back to shake his shirt off and undo his jeans, his eyes never leaving your body as you slowly take off your shirt and bra. A sly smirk on your face as his lustful eyes almost burn into your bare skin.

He lunged forward and kissed you on the lips before trailing down your neck, leaving soft kisses, bites, and hickeys all over your body. Your breathing grows more shallow, skin sensitive, and covered in goosebumps from his tender touches. You arch your body up into his kisses as he caresses his hand slowly down your body, lowering himself so he can kiss your stomach and hips.

"Hermosa, you are angel, a goddess." He whispers into your skin as he holds your waist up to his lips, sucking on the skin there.

You are soaked and need more from Javi, but you don't rush him, enjoying his devotion to your body. His hands go further down to unzip your skirt and pull it down your legs. You open your legs after your skirt is off, and Javi leans in and breathes deep.

"God, I missed the taste of you so much muñeca.....crave you like a drug."

Your hum of approval turns into a moan as Javi swiftly pulls your panties off, his hot breath caressing over your dripping center. He chuckles softly and slowly drags his fingers up your pussy.

"So beautiful and soaked, is this all from me?"

"Yes, Javier, all from you and all for you."

He grins and plants some soft kisses to your inner thighs before sucking on your clit softly. He growls happily into your cunt, the vibrations sending electricity through your spine.

He hooks his arms around your thighs and gently pulls you closer to his mouth. You eyes close from pleasure as he licks firmly against up your heat, running back your clit which he cricles with the tip of his tongue, he inserts two fingers slowly and begins fucking you with them.

"Fuck Javi....just like that." You whimper.

He grins against your cunt and hums continuing pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping hole while sucking your clit. Your legs shake as you try to stop yourself from closing your thighs around his head. He senses your struggle and pulls your thighs apart himself, as far as they can go, the dull pain adding to the intensity of your nearing orgasm.

"Shit...I'm close, Javi....fuck..."

His hums against your core send you over. He works you through your high till you're breathless and shaking. Licking up every drop of your essence before softly kissing your thighs and letting go of your thighs and crawling back to your face, kissing you passionately.

Tasting yourself on his tongue as he holds your neck softly makes you throb, growing wet again already.

"Fuck...that was even better than I remember Javi."

He chuckles, planting a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Oh, I'm just getting started, sweetheart." He responds the look of desire still burns in his eyes just as much as before.

"Please Javi I need to feel you...please fuck me." You whimper.

He leans down to whisper in your ear. Biting below your ear.

"With pleasure, darling." He says darkly, biting your jaw.

You feel his hardness press up against your hips and you grind upwards, pussy throbbing.

He chuckles as he reaches down to pull out his veiny cock and pumps it a few times while admiring your beautiful naked form, laying back and waiting for him eagerly.

"Spread your legs for me, sweetheart."

He pulls your thighs down, so he is between them as soon as you part them. He wipes his tip through your wet folds before slowly pushing it in.

You bite your lip as he slowly rocks into you inch by inch, slowly stretching you to fit him. This time feels alot different from all the other times you have fucked, alot more intimate and you think you enjoy him being soft and gentle with you just as much as you enjoy him being rough and ruthless if not more.

His hands hold you firm but gently, his mustache ticking your lips as he kisses you.

Both of your grunts and moans blend togetherto form your own beautiful melody, one of pleasure and intimacy.

"Yes.....yes...Javi...fuck!"

His thrusts grow a little harder and faster, both of your climaxes nearing. He reaches down and rubs your clit firmly. The sensation pushing you over the edge, you clench around him. The feel of your warmth clenching causes him to cum.

As you both reach your high, he kisses you passionately, your moans muffled by his mouth.

He pulls away out of breath and nestles his face in your neck before going to pull out.

"Wait...just a little longer." You breathlessly whisper to him.

He smiles softly and leaves himself inside of you. He let's himself drop fully onto your body. You smile wide at his warm body, hugging you close.

The both of your breathing slowly returns to normal as your eyelids grow heavy.

"Mmm I missed this....I missed you Javier."

He swallows hard before speaking.

"I missed you too, hermosa." Javier whispers to you.

******

[honeyedmiller]

Fate, After All | Joel Miller — Part One

warnings: pure fluff, a and a teensy bit of cursing. No use of y/n.

word count: 2.3k

series masterlist

-

You sigh as you begrudgingly look down at your watch-clad wrist for what seems like the hundredth time in twenty minutes.

Forty five fucking minutes late.

Unbelievable.

You scoff to yourself as you close your eyes, trying your best not to lose it in the middle of this restaurant. Yet again, another failed blind date.

You had no fucking idea why you kept accepting these invitations from your mother, because each and every one of them have turned out to be a complete disaster.

This one didn't even bother to show.

You can't believe you actually took the time to look presentable for this date—wearing some makeup that defined your naturally beautiful features, doing your hair up real nice, picking out your favorite baby blue halter-top sundress to wear, and even wearing your fancy perfume that was only reserved for special occasions.

How could you be so foolish? Why'd you think this time was going to be any different?

It's not like your mom did this on purpose. You knew she only had the best intentions when it came to setting you up on these blind dates, but they always never went smoothly.

Your mom felt bad that you were the only one out of your siblings who wasn't married and didn't have children. Sure, you could get lonely at times, but when shit like this happened, it was just a constant reminder of how pathetic your dating life was.

It was times like this that you'd dramatically come to accept that you may be alone forever.

You were just about to get up from your seat after leaving the server a ten dollar tip for wasting their time and taking up a table, until a voice called your name.

Your head snapped in that direction, eyes settling on a tall, tan, handsome man. He looked so familiar, but you couldn't put your finger on where you'd seen him before.

"Yes?" You say back, eyes wide with astonishment. You swallow nervously, your throat suddenly dry.

Was he your blind date?

Surely not, he didn't look dressed for a date. He wore a soft looking gray t-shirt that clung to his biceps and dark wash denim jeans that seem to fit his thick thighs perfectly.

What a hunk.

"Wow, it's been so long since I've seen you." He chuckles as he approaches you, the smile on his face bright.

Your confused look had his smile faltering a bit, and you step back in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Your shyness suddenly overcomes you, rightfully so.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forget it's been like, what, fifteen years? It's Joel. Joel Miller." His smile returns to his face as he sees the gears turning in your head, the little lightbulb going off.

"Miller? No way! How are you?" You laugh, bringing him in for a hug. You'd been good friends with Joel in high school, but sadly lost touch after you moved out of state to go to college.

"Good! Good. In the contracting business, as promised." You grin at him, always remembering that he loved to build the most intricate things from scratch.

"That's amazing to hear. You look good. I swear I didn't recognize you." You laugh as he mocks being offended.

"Thank you, sweetheart. You do too. All grown up now." He chuckles, stuffing his hands in the front pocket of his jeans. His eyes naturally skate over your figure, really loving the way that blue sundress hugged your curves.

Your stomach fluttered at the old nickname. Joel used to call you sweetheart in school all the time. It was his special nickname just for you.

"Couldn't help but notice you were all alone," His grin doesn't reach his eyes, probably in empathy, "Were you waiting for someone?" His head tilts a little to the side, and an inevitable blush creeps across your cheeks.

It's embarrassing enough to be stood up, but to admit it? Out loud? Mortifying. But, you knew Joel was a sweet person—or at least, he used to be. Worst he could do was laugh about this to your face.

"Um, I was, yeah, but they never showed." Your gaze hits the floor as the reminder of how your love life was a shit show hit you all over again.

"You got stood up?" His voice is soft, laced with concern as his eyebrows furrow.

You offer him the smallest of smiles before nodding.

"Well to hell with them, they're missing out on a wonderful person," He starts, a hand moving from his pocket to your arm. His touch was warm and inviting, and it sent tingles down your spine. "I was gonna get takeout anyway from here, just for myself. Did you wanna get some and maybe join me back at my place?"

His offer makes you subtly perk up, but even he noticed it. The scene before him made him smile.

"I don't want to be an intrusion." You say, but he's already shaking his head.

"You're not, sweetheart. I was offering. Plus, I'd love the company. It's just me at my house tonight." And with that, you knew you couldn't refuse his offer.

-

You followed Joel back to his house in your car, butterflies going wild in your stomach the whole time. You always had a major crush on Joel back in high school, and seeing him as a grown man that had clearly aged like fine wine was the cherry on top of the damn ten-tier cake.

God, pull yourself together, you scolded yourself as you parked on the street in front of Joel's house. It was a nice neighborhood with quaint houses; ones that looked like they belonged on a friendly neighborhood magazine.

You stepped out of your car and met Joel in his driveway as he parked his truck, grabbing the bag of food he insisted he'd pay for.

So, instinctively, you told him you'd get him next time around, and his heart secretly flipped with joy at the mention of next time.

"Beautiful home you have." You comment to him as he rustles with his keys, finding the right one to unlock his front door with.

"Thank you, darlin'." He grins at you as he opens the door, motioning you to walk in before him. You thank him softly as you walk into the two-story home, admiring how cozy and warm it looked.

There were plenty of pictures on the wall, slightly worn but beautiful furniture pieces adorning the room before you, and the smell of teakwood lingering in the air.

You took a closer look at a photo hung up adjacent to you on the wall, seeing it consisted of Joel, a younger man probably in his mid to late twenties, a young girl, and two elderly people all matching and smiling at the camera. You admired how they all displayed genuine smiles that actually reached their eyes in the photo.

"Cute picture." You nod your head to the frame, Joel coming back to you from setting down the bag of food on the coffee table in the living room just before you.

He chuckles softly and reaches to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous habit you could tell he had.

"Thank you. 'S my parents, daughter and brother." He explains, and your eyes widen.

"Wait, that's Tommy? No way." You let out a loud laugh, making Joel's heart do those damn flips again.

Just like his brother, Tommy was almost unrecognizable. Your eyes run over his daughter's face once more, bringing a soft smile to your lips.

"Your daughter is beautiful," You look up at Joel, then back to the picture, "She has your eyes." You almost consider asking him if her mom was in the picture, but obviously she wasn't if Joel has you here with him tonight. You sweep the pressing matter to the back of your mind, Joel's touch on your lower back distracting you.

"Let's go eat our food." He guides you to the dining room and pulls out a chair for you. He retrieves the food from the coffee table and brings it to you, and goes to his cupboard to pull out a glass.

"Would you like some wine?" He offers, and you eagerly nod. You definitely needed a drink after the day you've had. Not to mention, it'll ease your damn erratic nerves. Joel made you nervous even 'til this day, and maybe it was his southern charm or dark brown eyes that you could easily get lost in, but it was driving you fucking nuts.

He pulled out a beer from the fridge for himself after pouring you a glass of wine, bringing both beverages back to the table. You thank him as you take the glass, clinking your glass with his bottle to cheers.

"Thanks for saving me from complete embarrassment back at the restaurant." You laugh, shaking your head. You take the first bite of your food, humming in delight at how good it was.

"Was it a blind date or somethin'?" He asks, his curiosity piqued. You slowly nod in embarrassment and shame, barely even wanting to admit it.

"Yeah. My mom has this whole thing in her head that because I'm the only one out of my siblings that isn't married, doesn't have kids, or isn't even seeing someone, that I need to be kept company and I need to 'not be lonely'." You air quote your mom's words, pulling an eye roll from you.

Joel chuckles and shakes his head, "I know what you mean. My mom's been buggin' me about puttin' myself out there again. Sh'says it's been too long for me, since Sarah's mother left."

"Oh, Joel, I'm sorry." Your sincere condolences don't skip past him, but he shakes his head.

"It was a long time ago. I've moved on. Been on a few dates here n' there, but never genuinely clicked with anyone. I think I've forgotten how to date." His boisterous laugh fills the room; an infectious one that had you giggling yourself.

"It's been a long time since I've felt a spark with someone, for sure." You nod your head in agreement, taking a sip of your wine. Joel's eyes linger on you for a second longer, and you blush underneath his stare.

He lets out a small chuckle, "Wanna know something crazy?" He asks, looking at you with gentle eyes.

"Hmm?"

"I used to have the biggest crush on you in high school." He confesses, and it nearly causes you to choke on your food as your eyes widen.

"Wait, what?" Your voice is meek, and again, he scratches the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I just never did anything about it because I was always out of your league. Tommy'd always push me to ask you out on a date, but I was too much of a chicken to do it. Then I found out you were moving away after high school, so I kinda just pushed it to the back of my mind. Truthfully thought I'd never see you again." There's a lightness in his voice that makes your heart melt at his confession.

"Y'should've. I would've said yes." You feel like a giddy high schooler again with this new information you've given and reciprocated.

"Are you serious?" He laughs, groaning as he tilts his head back, "No way."

"Absolutely. I had the biggest crush on you, Miller. I'm surprised you didn't know. I thought it was pretty obvious."

"Maybe that's why Tommy pushed me so much to ask you out." He sighs, grinning down at his plate of food.

"Maybe." And then it was a comfortable silence. You two finished your food, relishing in the thought of what could've been. Everything definitely happens for a reason, though.

After you two cleaned up, he offered to make some popcorn so you two could watch a movie. He showed you his rather massive VHS collection, and you chose Jurassic Park. He popped the movie in the VCR before plopping himself next to you on the couch, draping a blanket over both of your laps.

He rewinded the movie to the beginning, and you two snuggled in quickly. You couldn't help but think about the domesticity of this, and truthfully, this is something you wouldn't mind getting used to.

Throughout the movie, Joel subtly kept moving closer to you, until eventually his arm found its way over your shoulder as he pulled you in close to him. Your heart swelled at his warm embrace, so content that you truly didn't want this night to end soon.

You felt Joel's eyes on you about halfway into the movie, and your gaze shifted to his. A small smile crept up on your lips, your heartbeat picking up as you finally noticed the small proximity between the both of you.

"You're so beautiful, y'know that?" Joel whispers to you, moving a hand to tuck some loose hair behind your ear. He rested his palm against your cheek, and you instantly melted into his touch. Though his hands were calloused and a bit rough, his touch was so gentle, so sweet.

"Wish we could've met again sooner." You quietly admit, closing your eyes briefly. They flutter open again when his thumb swipes back and forth against your cheekbone.

"Me too, darlin'." He leans in slowly, nose brushing against yours before his plush lips found your own.

The kiss was soft, sweet, and gentle—everything you'd hoped kissing Joel Miller would be like. He exceeded those expectations by a lightyear.

You both reluctantly pulled back from the sweet moment, your lips tingling and suddenly cold from the loss of contact.

"By the way, you were never out of my league, Joel." You whisper to him, and he smiles at you before leaning in once more to give you a kiss that you'll never want to forget.

For once, you were so grateful that a blind date didn't work out the way you expected it to.

Fate has a funny way of working itself out, after all.

[lumiolivier]

In Another Life

Series: One Piece

Word Count: 5153

Rating: T

Pairing(s): ZoSan

A party at Mihawk's (or his desperate attempt to socialize his protege) takes a strange turn when Zoro hears a piano upstairs.

(I've also never written One Piece fic before. Please be gentle.)

Zoro never saw any point in the large, lavish parties.  Nobility or not, Zoro didn’t understand Mihawk’s appreciation to peacock himself.  And for what?  To show off?  To make connections that he’ll ultimately break?  Of course not.  Mihawk had a difference reason for this particular party.  Mihawk was to hold…a flesh auction of sorts.  Not for money or anything like that.  To see his young protégé finally not mope around their villa another summer.

“Do we have to do this, Mihawk?” Zoro whined as he went through yet another suit fitting, “Can’t I just sit this out?”

“No,” Mihawk stood his ground, watching the tailor’s hands work quickly, “You’re going.  Like it or not.”

“I’m leaning toward the not part.”

“Zoro,” Mihawk groaned, “How long has it been since you even knew what a woman looked like?”

“I’ve seen women before,” Zoro rolled his eyes, beyond irritated with him, “It’s not like I’m a stranger to people.”

“Then, why do you always act like it?” Mihawk asked, “Zoro’s too good to be around other people.  Zoro’s always going to be off by himself.  Zoro would rather be alone playing with his sword than having someone else play with it for him.”

“Can we not be disgusting?”

“Can you simply humor me for the night?” Mihawk ordered, “It’s not like I’m asking you for a vital organ, Zoro.  I’m asking you to actually socialize.  Locking yourself away isn’t good for you.”

“Do I not see you every day?” Zoro pointed out, jerking at the pin prick in his hip, “Ow!  What the hell?”

“I’m so sorry,” the tailor winced.

“Don’t make it a habit,” Zoro let it go.

“I’m serious, Zoro,” Mihawk insisted, “You need to be more socialized.  You’d be amazed at what a little elbow rubbing will get you.  Consider this another lesson.”

“You teach me in the ways of the blade,” Zoro reminded him, “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Then, consider it a bonus,” Mihawk did his best to hold his composure, but the thought of running Zoro through with his own blade gave him much temptation.  But then, it dawned on him.  What had Zoro so antisocial.  But he needed to guide the conversation in the right direction, “Why do you refuse to make any connections?”

“I don’t need them,” Zoro blew him off, idly staring into the mirror in any other direction but his own eyes.

And that’s when all of Mihawk’s theories made sense, “Is this about Kuina?”

Zoro’s jaw tensed up at the mere mention of her name.  The last time he ever truly got close to someone.  His grief tightened up in his stomach.  And he shot a piercing glare at Mihawk, “You had no right.  You had no business bringing her into it.”

“So, it is a Kuina problem,” Mihawk shooed away the tailor and sat at the edge of Zoro’s bed.

And without hesitation, Zoro drew his blade from its sheathe.  Even when being poked and prodded at by the tailor, he wouldn’t be caught without it on him.  He held the tip of his blade in Mihawk’s face, “I said, you have no business speaking her name.  Drop it.”

“And what have I always told you?” Mihawk lowered Zoro’s blade, “Don’t draw your blade unless you intend to draw blood.  Calm yourself.”

Zoro wanted his blade to taste blood.  To let the iron fortify the blade even more.  But he conceded and returned his sword to its sheathe, “I stand by what I said.”

“As do I,” Mihawk assured him, “You will be there.  And for a change, you will be socialized.  Do we understand each other?”

“Please, Mihawk,” Zoro begged, “Don’t make me do this.”

“I’m not making you do anything,” Mihawk got up from the bed and started walking out, “I’m merely saying you’re going to be there.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“I’m not putting bamboo splinters under your fingernails, Zoro,” Mihawk started walking out, “You’ll live.  It’s just one night.”

The moment the door closed, Zoro threw himself into his bed, hoping to get in a quick nap.  Yeah.  It’s just one night.  Easy for you to say.  You’re used to this garbage.  Hopefully, I’ll be able to get in a drink or two.  Or three.  The prospects of the evening started to sound a little better.  Mihawk usually does bring out the top shelf booze for this.  Maybe it won’t be so bad.  As long as he’s not lining them up for me, we should be fine.  Zoro stared up into the gilded ceiling.  Maybe tonight won’t be so bad.  And slowly, Zoro started to drift off. 

But then, night fell over the palace.  And the staff were abuzz with party preparations, decorating, showering the palace in all the lavish furnishings and fabrics Mihawk insisted upon.  And of course, Mihawk oversaw everything.  From the colors, the textures in the drapery to the food left out for the guests to help themselves to, nothing would be put out without Mihawk’s seal of approval.  Which brought him to his next task.  Quite possibly the most important one he had.  Making sure his flight risk protégé didn’t prove himself a flight risk.  Alright, Zoro.  Where have you run off to?

Mihawk checked the gardens, the stables, the library, the study.  Zoro was nowhere to be found.  But then, he realized who exactly he had been looking for.  And the one place he failed to look.  Mihawk trudged upstairs and knocked on Zoro’s bedroom door.  And was met with silence.  I know you’re not napping at a time like this, Zoro.  At least you better not be.  Mihawk didn’t bother with the invitation and walked into Zoro’s bedroom.  Sure enough, still sleeping like a baby, Zoro continued to drool on himself, ever so slightly.

“Oh, Zoro,” Mihawk let out a heavy sigh of exasperation, “You’re lucky I don’t want you dead.  Get up.”

“Mmm…” Zoro rolled over, ignoring Mihawk entirely.

“You know,” Mihawk sat at the edge of the bed, “I have you mostly pegged as a flight risk.  But I should know better.  And truly, that’s on me.  Because why would you run from tonight’s party when you could simply sleep through it?”

“You’re letting me sleep through it?” Zoro mumbled into his pillow, “Thanks, Mihawk.  I knew you’d understand.”

“Zoro…” Mihawk growled, “If you’re not awake, alert, and fully dressed in the next hour, I am taking all of your swords and running them through different parts of your body. Do you understand?”

“Alright!” Zoro snapped, reluctantly rolling off his bed, “I’m up.  There.  Happy now?”

“Quite,” Mihawk praised, “Thank you.  Go on.  Your suit should be finished and in the closet.”

“Wonderful,” Zoro dragged himself toward his bathroom.  But he made a quick stop at his closet, noticing the garment bag hanging in it.

“You could’ve chosen any color under the rainbow,” Mihawk pointed out, “And yet, you decide to go with black.”

“It’s simple,” Zoro took the hanger and brought it with him, “Is that a problem?”

“Not what I would’ve chosen for you personally,” Mihawk shrugged, “If I had my say, it would’ve been a deep red.  It’d suit you.”

“Black is good, too,” Zoro brushed him off and shut the door behind him.

Mihawk rested his head on his knees, beyond done with Zoro’s reluctance.  It still seemed like yesterday this sad boy begged at his knee to teach him the ways of the blade.  Better than what anyone had ever taught him before.  And how irritating he was then.  But the fire in those sad eyes got to him.  And Mihawk couldn’t tell him no.  His raw talent was too good to just throw away.  It needed to be nurtured and cultivated into something great.  However, it was a shame Mihawk couldn’t do the same for Zoro’s personality.  At least, that was how Mihawk saw it.

“Zoro,” Mihawk leaned against Zoro’s bathroom door, grateful to hear the bathtub running, “If you need anything, come find me.”

“What about the house staff?” Zoro asked, already slipping into his bath water.

“They’re busy,” Mihawk insisted, “You find me directly.  Alright?”

“Fine,” Zoro shut his eyes again, doing his best not to fall back asleep.  But he knew sleep would elude him.  He had bigger things on his mind.  Why would Mihawk be so hellbent on me finding someone at this party?  Is he really getting that sick of me?  I thought we were good.  It’s not like he’s asking me for a kidney.  I guess I’ll suck it up for the night.  It’s just one night, right?  Unless I have to sit and deal with whoever ends up finding me tonight for the rest of my life.  Ugh…Just what I need.  I can’t just have a good night with some decent booze, can I? 

As time passed, Mihawk took one last look at himself in the mirror, appreciating what he saw.  Because there’d be no way that at the very least Mihawk would go with a cold bed tonight.  However, this party wasn’t for him.  And as he walked down the hall, he kept his fingers crossed.  Please, Zoro.  Don’t tell me you went back to sleep.  Tell me you didn’t continue your nap in the bathtub.  Tell me you’re fully dressed and ready for this party.  Because I don’t think my heart can handle you still being in shambles. 

“Zoro?” Mihawk didn’t even bother knocking.  He just walked right into Zoro’s bedroom. 

Where Zoro had come out of the bathroom, doing his best to figure out how cufflinks worked, “You call for me?”

“Thank God,” Mihawk let out a sigh of relief, getting an eyeful of his prodigy.  Although, he couldn’t help himself, “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to put these damn things on,” Zoro continued his struggle, “How does anyone put these on?”

“One cufflink at a time,” Mihawk took them away and pulled on Zoro’s sleeve, “Honestly, Zoro.  Have I not taught you better?”

“In a perfect world,” Zoro grumbled, “This shirt would’ve had buttons on it like I asked.”

“But,” Mihawk stood his ground, “I told them purposefully to leave the buttons off because of the cufflinks I got for you.”

“You didn’t get those for me,” Zoro pointed out, “You won them in a poker game.  That I watched you cheat at.”

“You get my point,” Mihawk hushed him, “Is this the kind of attitude I can expect tonight?  Because I’m not canceling.  There are already guests arriving.  And you’re not going to embarrass me.”

“Do forgive me,” Zoro rolled his eyes, still wanting no part of this.  Unless it had a proof on it.

“Zoro,” Mihawk begged, “Please.  At least try to have a good time tonight.”

“Fine,” Zoro caved, already with his eye on a good sake.

“Thank you,” Mihawk finished off his cufflinks, “Now, go downstairs.  Go meet a nice girl.  Call it a night.  Will that be so difficult for you?”

“Probably not,” Zoro walked out of the safety of his bedroom with a sword on one hip and two swords on the other.  Because he wasn’t going to leave without a little piece of Kuina on him.

Once he made it to the ballroom, Zoro established a nest.  Granted, he knew he wasn’t going to be at one of the tables in the back.  Oh, no.  That meant going unseen.  The head table was where he’d be.  That didn’t mean he couldn’t still make his nest.  He had a bottle of sake for the table and his favorite bottle opener.  Carefully, he ran his blade along the cork and started drinking.  Although, the sudden pop caught some attention.  Zoro knocked the bottom of the bottle on the table, tipped it toward the ceiling and got his first drink down.  Just a little something to take the edge off.  And he could tell right then and there.

This party would be his hell.

The last thing he wanted to do was sit and listen to Mihawk talk shop with the other nobility.  He didn’t care how their businesses were doing.  He didn’t care about their personal lives.  None of that interested him.  If the goal was for Mihawk to find a lovely young lady to keep Zoro warm for the evening, the bottle of sake was a much better place to look.  No one was even worth Zoro giving them a chance.  He just wanted to spend a little time alone.  However, at the height of the party, Mihawk wasn’t going to let him leave so easily.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mihawk grabbed Zoro’s wrist.

“Bathroom,” Zoro brushed him off, “If that’s alright with you.”

“Fine,” Mihawk stopped him, “It’s funny, Zoro.  I haven’t seen you with anyone all night.  In fact, you’ve hardly strayed from my side.”

“Maybe you should’ve invited better guests,” Zoro played it off like he didn’t care, but he was bored out of his skull and he wanted nothing more than to…use the bathroom.  Yes.  The bathroom.  Just as he told Mihawk.

“Or better yet,” Mihawk growled, “Someone else should be a little more personable.  I asked you one thing, Zoro.  And I need you to come through on that.”

“So,” Zoro groaned, “Do I get to go to the bathroom or not?”

“Go,” Mihawk let him go, “Maybe you’ll sober up some.”

“Yeah,” Zoro walked away.  Wouldn’t that be a damn shame?  He couldn’t stand it anymore.  He wanted nothing more than to escape that party the second he stepped foot in it.  The ballroom was abuzz with activity, with people dancing, with people talking.  It was maddening.  And Zoro wanted nothing more than some peace.  And if he had to retreat to the bathroom to get that peace, then so be it. 

However, on his way, the faint sound of a piano caught his attention.  The band played in the ballroom, but none of them had a piano.  It was oddly soothing.  The only room with a piano in it was the drawing room and it was a rarity anyone was ever in there.  Regardless, Zoro followed the sound.  Because anything was better than the overcrowded party in the ballroom and going back to Mihawk.  And someone had to have been playing it.  Zoro would finally socialize the way Mihawk wanted him to.  And then, Mihawk wouldn’t have a reason to throw a tantrum.

The closer Zoro got to the piano, the faster it played.  He just wanted Mihawk off his back.  But he kept a tight grip on his sword hilts.  Faster and faster, the piano played on.  Zoro couldn’t even recognize the song.  But once he got to the piano, no one was there.  Zoro scratched his head.  Where the hell was that coming from?  I know I heard a piano up here.  It’s right there.  So, who was playing it?  Regardless, Zoro knew there was someone up there.  There was someone who wandered away from the party.  And no doubt with Mihawk’s treasures in mind.  So, he drew his blade.

“Show yourself,” he called out to the empty room.  And yet, silence.  Zoro looked all around the piano.  Still nothing, “I said, show yourself!”

And yet, the still silence remained.  Zoro sat on the bench, still not sure where the music came from.  He put his fingers to the keys.  Where was it coming from?  Am I finally losing it?  There was a piano playing in here, right?  Clearly, there’s a piano.  But who was playing it?  Zoro let it go and rested his head on the keys, letting out a messy chord.  Whoever it was, at least I get some peace and quiet for a change.  I told you already, Mihawk.  This party was pointless.  I need the rest more than I need to socialize.  But just as Zoro sat back up, a sudden chill ran through his head.

“Soft…” a voice echoed through the mostly empty room.

“Who are you?” Zoro stood up and drew his blade, “Show yourself!”

“Soft…” the voice spoke again, “Like moss…”

“I said, show yourself!” Zoro spun his blade, waiting for someone to show up, “I won’t ask again.”

“I heard you the first time,” the voice moaned, “I can’t help it.  I’m shy.”

“Then, tell me who you are,” Zoro looked around for where the voice was coming from and yet…There was no one there.

“I guess it’d be rude of me not to talk to you face to face,” the voice finally took form on the piano.  A man, “You’re easily worked up, mosshead.  Did you know that?”

Zoro had seen a lot in his time.  But never did he see someone apparate out of thin air, “Where the fuck did you come from?!”

“Thank you for proving my point,” he laughed, “Like I said, you’re easily worked up.  And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just saw a ghost.”

“I…” Zoro blinked a couple times, still coming to grips with what he just saw, “I…Are you a ghost?”

“Unfortunately,” his incorporeal legs dangled over the edge of the piano, “I am sorry if I startled you.  But your piano was too pretty to pass up.  Do you live here?”

“Last time I checked,” Zoro backed away, “I’m almost positive there’s a priest downstairs.  You need to go.”

“No…” the ghost begged, “Please.  I don’t want to go yet.  I heard the party downstairs and…It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a good party.”

“Who are you?” Zoro asked, “There’s no way you’re just some random ghost that busted into Mihawk’s house like this.”

“Mihawk…Mihawk…” the ghost thought it over, “No.  Sorry.  Not ringing any bells.  But you think I could see?”

“See what?” Zoro scoffed, “Mihawk’s sham of a party?”

“Sham?” he wondered, “What makes it a sham, mosshead?”

“Would you quit calling me that?” Zoro rolled his eyes.

“And I’ll tell you mine if you’ll tell me yours,” the ghost laid on his stomach, his elbows up on the back of the piano, “Deal?”

“Why should I tell you my name?” Zoro argued, “I’m not the one who lured me up here.”

“Did you like it?” the ghost asked, “It got a little heavy toward its end, but someone was coming and I figured I’d get out as much as I could.”

“Not really my thing,” Zoro brushed him off, “It’s Zoro, by the way.  Roranoa Zoro.”

“Sounds like a mouthful,” the ghost rolled over to his back, “Tell you what.  If you bring me down to that party you say is downstairs, I’ll tell you my name.”

“That wasn’t our deal,” Zoro pointed out, “You said you’d tell me yours if I told you mine.”

“So, I’m renegotiating a little,” he shrugged, “Come on, Zoro.  Please?  I’ve been up here for a thousand years and I’d love to see a good party.”

“Have you really?” Zoro asked, “You’ve been a ghost for that long?”

“Not really,” he giggled under his breath, “I’ve only been like this for the last couple years.”

“And,” Zoro started to relax a bit more, sitting back down at the piano, “What happened?  If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I got stuck on a rock in the middle of the ocean,” he told him, “And I didn’t have anyone to come rescue me.  It was a long few months being out there, but now, I’m free.  I can come and go through here all I want.  And no one’s going to tell me no.”

“What if I told you no?” Zoro argued.

“But you won’t.  Do you know how I know that?”

‘How?”

“Because,” the ghost smiled, “You haven’t looked away from me for the last ten minutes.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you thought I was cute.”

“Please,” Zoro shook him off, “Why would I think that?”

“Because I am cute,” the ghost retaliated, “I mean…Come on, Zoro.  Look at me.”

“Yeah,” Zoro scoffed, “I’m sure you had all the ladies swoon over you in your living life.”

“You’d be amazed,” he got up from the piano, “Would you feel more comfortable if I was more tangible?”

“What do you mean?” Zoro looked at the ghost strangely, “You can do that?”

“Of course, I can,” the ghost’s translucency went away as he sat on the bench next to Zoro and held his hand, “See?  I’m just as solid as you are.  Truly, mosshead, I’m starting to think I’m the first ghost you ever met.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” Zoro got up from the bench and checked the liquor cabinet.  And came up short, “Damn…”

“What?”

“I was looking for a drink,” Zoro told him, “But it looks like I have to go downstairs for that.”

“And I could come with you,” the ghost insisted, doing a little spin, showing off his dark, pinstriped suit, “It’s not like I’m not dressed for the occasion.  Please?  I just want one party.”

Zoro wanted to go back to the party like he wanted to be shot in his foot.  But his curiosity got the better of him.  All he wanted was to know who haunted the halls of Mihawk’s mansion.  And if that meant him going back to the party, then so be it.  But that would come with some stipulations, “If we go down there, are other people going to be able to see you?”

“Just as much as you can see me now,” he nodded, “They’ll also be able to feel me, too.  I’ll be just as tangible as anyone else in the room.  They’ll have no idea I’m a ghost.”

“And,” Zoro went on, “What will you being at this party entail?”

“I just want to go to this party,” the ghost fell back over the piano, “Is that so much to ask?”

“It’s one of Mihawk’s parties,” Zoro grumbled under his breath, “So, yes.  It is.  Fine.  I’ll take you downstairs.”

“Wonderful!” he hopped down from the piano, “Let’s go!”

Zoro knew he’d live to regret this night, but if it meant him having Mihawk out of his hair, he’d be alright with it.  And so, the two went back downstairs to the ballroom where the hustle and bustle seemed to only get bigger.  Zoro rolled his eyes at the spectacle.  Great.  Just wonderful.  And yet, he looked over at the ghost, who couldn’t have been more thrilled to see such a beautiful ballroom.  The food, the string quartet, the people, the dancing.  It all completely swooned him. 

“Zoro…” the ghost took his hand, “Thank you.  I don’t think you realize it, but this is the best gift you could’ve given me.”

And in that moment, there was a strange tug in Zoro’s chest.  One that he didn’t know was possible.  But it managed to force a smile onto his face, “You’re welcome.  I’m glad I could do this for you.”

“And I know it’s making you uncomfortable,” the ghost took his arm, “But really.  It’s not going unappreciated.”

“Don’t mention it,” Zoro shook him off, “I’m going to go get a drink.  Can you do that?”

“I can,” the ghost nodded, “If it’s not too much trouble, cabernet.”

“What the hell is cabernet?”

“Oh, dear, sweet Zoro,” the ghost teased him, “It’s the one in the pretty black bottle.  Probably with a red label.  Says cabernet on it.  Maybe even Cabernet Sauvignon.  You can read, can’t you?”

“Of course, I can read!” Zoro snapped, “And now that I’m thinking about it, I brought you to your party.  You still haven’t told me your name.”

“My memory’s a little fuzzy,” the ghost sighed out, “Maybe a little red will bring it to light.”

Great.  This one thinks he’s funny.  I’m keeping you away from the actual clown here.  Regardless of Zoro’s opinions, he was still a man on a mission.  And there was a beautiful bottle of sake sitting unattended on the top shelf.  And next to it were all of Mihawk’s wines.  Zoro skimmed through the labels, hoping to find one that said cabernet on it.  Fortunately, a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon sat on the shelf.  He let out a little sigh of relief as he poured a glass for his new…friend.  Or the ghost that seemed to attach himself to Zoro.  And he knew the rest of the night would be miserable, so Zoro just grabbed the sake bottle.

“Here,” Zoro sat at his spot at the table and put the wine in front of him, “I got your stupid wine.”

“Mm…” the ghost picked up his glass and meticulously studied his wine.

“What?” Zoro scoffed, “Afraid I poisoned it?  You’re already a ghost.  Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a sadist?” the ghost assumed.

“I’m not a sadist,” Zoro took a heavy drink straight from the bottle.

“Fine, fine,” the ghost backed off, “But…I suppose I couldn’t trouble you for a dance, could I?”

“You said you wanted your party,” Zoro pointed out, “You didn’t say anything about me having to participate.”

“Please, Mossy?” the ghost begged, “If you dance with me, I’ll tell you my name.”

“Uh-huh,” Zoro rolled his eyes, “You also said you’d tell me your name if I brought you to this party.  And you’d tell me your name if I got you your wine.  Why should I believe you’ll tell me your name if I give you a dance?”

“Because,” the ghost rested his head on Zoro’s shoulder, “I asked nicely for that dance.  And I swear on my past life and my current one that I will tell you my name.  But you have to dance with me.”

Zoro hated his own curiosity.  But he wasn’t going to break.  Instead, he just got up from the table, “I’m going to go get some air.”

“Wait, Zoro,” the ghost called after him, “Don’t go.”

“Don’t follow me,” Zoro took the bottle with him, “I don’t need this party.  I don’t need the socializing like Mihawk said.  And I sure as hell don’t need to be jerked around by some fucking ghost.”

“Zoro…”

But Zoro was already gone.  Lost in the crowd.  He really did just need to get some air.  Something about the gardens were quite peaceful.  Zoro found himself under the gazebo and sat on the cold ground.  It’s just some damn ghost.  Why am I letting him get to me so much?  Zoro knew the reason.  Zoro knew exactly what it was.  And he hated himself for thinking it.  Because it meant proving Mihawk right.  It’s because it’s not her.  I would’ve thought if I had a ghost attached to me, it’d be Kuina.  Why?  Why does it have to be him?  I don’t even know what his name is.  Why is he getting to me this bad?

“Zoro…” a familiar voice floated through the air.

“I thought I told you not to follow me,” Zoro grumbled.

“I know,” the ghost sat with him, “Why’d you run off?”

“I had a lot on my mind,” Zoro kept cryptic, “I needed somewhere to make it all stop for a while.”

“If it was because of me,” the ghost took his hands, “I’m sorry.  I really don’t mean to jerk you around like that.  It’s just been a while since I had anyone do anything for me.  I liked it a little too much.”

“Oh,” Zoro let it go.  But there was a sense of peace in his thoughts again.  And the music drifted outside.  Zoro got back on his feet and offered the ghost his hand.

“What’s this for?”

“What else?” Zoro shrugged, “You did say you’d give me your name if I gave you a dance.”

“Oh?” the ghost managed to muster up a smile, “Alright.  But ask me properly.”

“What?” Zoro looked at him strangely, “What do you mean, ask you properly?  Do you want to dance or not?”

“Wow,” the ghost giggled a bit, “What a gentleman.  Hard to believe you haven’t been married off ten times over by now.”

“The sarcasm is not appreciated,” Zoro took the ghost’s hand and pulled him a little closer.

“Alright,” the ghost teased him, “I see someone’s not feeling shy anymore.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” the ghost reveled in the feeling of someone else’s touch.  And in Zoro’s movements, “Hey…Mossy…Can I ask you something?”

“What?” Zoro started to relax a little more, the sake finally hitting his bloodstream.

“Do you think…” the ghost nestled his head in Zoro’s shoulder, “Maybe we met in a past life?”

“I don’t know,” Zoro spun him around, “Maybe.  How do you think we met?”

“I don’t know,” the ghost thought it over, “Maybe we met on a boat.  A big boat.  With a restaurant on it.”

“Maybe we hated each other.”

“But maybe…We didn’t.”

“What?” Zoro wondered, “You think we were friends?”

“I think we were more than that,” the ghost admitted, “But you have your thoughts of our past life together and I’ll have mine.  We’ll close our eyes and pretend like both are real.”

“Who knows if our past lives together are real or not?” Zoro brushed it off, “But…We got tonight, don’t we?”

“Zoro…” the ghost awed, “That’s the sweetest thing you could’ve said to me.”

“Don’t read too much into it.” But Zoro couldn’t take his eyes off the ghost’s.  So deep, so beautiful…And his face so soft and gentle…And the ghost’s slender hips against his own…And he found his peace.

In the silence, the ghost couldn’t help himself.  He knew there was no way Zoro would make a move.  So, the ghost moved into Zoro’s face, barely an inch away.  And to his surprise, Zoro pulled the ghost in for a deep, sweet, and tender kiss.  One that put everything into alignment.  And everything would be ok.  When he pulled away, Zoro still couldn’t believe it happened.  On his list of things that could’ve happened that night, kissing a ghost in the garden was not on it.

“Zoro…” the ghost’s voice broke, “You…”

“Again,” Zoro blushed, “Don’t read too far into it.”

“Fine,” the ghost couldn’t stop smiling, “Do you really want to know what my name is that badly?”

“After that…” Zoro admitted, “I don’t even care anymore, Ghost.  Tell me.  Don’t tell me.  But…I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to do that again.”

“Well,” the ghost rocked back on his heels, “What if I wanted to?”

“Then,” Zoro thought, “I guess I’d have to prove you wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

Zoro pulled the ghost back in, his kiss getting deeper, his tongue finding its way into the ghost’s mouth, “I can be a gentleman if I want to be one.”

“Is that so?” the ghost melted inside, “Why couldn’t I have met you in my living life?”

“Because,” Zoro pointed out, “Then, I would’ve had to mourn you twice.”

“Zoro…” the ghost gave him one last little kiss, “My name is Sanji.”