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fountainpenguin · 2 years ago

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Could we see a lil explanation of Poof and Goldie’s first kiss? As well as Foop and Anti-Marigold? :D

Hello, thank you so much for this Ask! I apologize for letting it sit in my inbox so long; I was on Tumblr / Fairly OddParents hiatus last year <3

[Long post, still annoyed with the "Adding a Read More might just totally delete your stuff" situation]

Officially Poof and Goldie had their first kiss in the episode "Love Triangle." They kissed during the play as Mr. Cookie and Princess Sunshine and they kiss again when they slip out for ice cream at the end.

They're kids so they have a very playful view of everything, but they're always super close as they get older. I definitely see them having the vibe of "lifelong neighbors who genuinely care about each other and they're physically affectionate and play board games and snuggle on the couch watching movies all the time."

The Poof / Goldie relationship is definitely something that adults looked at and went "Aw, how cute, these innocent kids don't know any better" [read: will o' the wisp possessiveness]. People tolerated them hanging out when they were super young, but the older they got, the more uncomfortable people got with it. Things started morphing from "Cute neighborhood kids" to "Um, Cosmo and Wanda, why are you letting your son hang out with a girl who will get the ability to paralyze him with her saliva after puberty and who will probably drag him underground as her captive :/ ?"

Cosmo and Wanda were always a little uneasy about Goldie, not entirely sure how to approach that situation. They didn't want to judge Goldie for the biology and history of her entire species, but they got increasingly nervous as Poof got older and she became a serious romantic option for him instead of just a friend.

-> Cosmo and Wanda tried to set some boundaries (as seen in the 130 Prompt "Opinion" when they tell him not to take Goldie to the dance (For extra context, this takes place during the war era where Fairy and Anti-Fairy World were divided). I do think I wrote Wanda as a little too harsh in this piece, but it was years and years ago so I'm okay with that.

In the end however, she and Cosmo do talk about it and agree that they would rather Poof choose who he wants to be with and that they aren't going to decide for him if his relationship will hurt him. After all they eloped and cut ties with their families for 10k years because of it. They don't want Poof to cut ties with them... Things just get increasingly complicated for a lot of reasons that aren't just "Goldie could be a dangerous wisp" and are more along the lines of "No, Goldie blatantly is stressing Poof out to the point that he's regularly crying and hiding and freaking out, that's the issue here."

Teen years are really rough for Poof, he's a sensitive kid.

So as for the question, I'd say that if they remember it, Poof and Goldie would consider the play to be the setting of their first kiss, but those memories are probably suuuuper blurry by the time they're older. I don't think they tightly define their relationship with milestones like kisses, but they do have them:

According to my notes, one of the big moments in their relationship was when the power went out at school and Goldie comforted him until it came back on

There's another note that they were working on a school project together once when it started storming so they had to stay in a dark cave overnight.

I've always headcanoned Poof with a fear of the dark that never quite went away after the "Lights Out" episode. I think being tormented regularly as a kid by Foop and Crocker didn't make it any easier; he gets some pretty scary things in his head when it's quiet and he's left to his thoughts.

I also write him with insomnia. Poof has it rough sometimes sldkfj.

Officially, Poof and Goldie both consider their first real romantic relationship kiss to be at the saucerbee dugout. Just kind of went for an evening walk, got some snacks, and wandered over to the school's field while talking, then shared a few kisses there. They've snuck back to have a lot of kisses there over the years; lots of good memories for them.

Things are complicated because Poof and Goldie really like each other but they both have really bad anxiety and they're also celebrity kids under constant judgment from the public </3 They'd like to stay together, they're just confused and unsure how feasible it is in the long-term, so they tend to speedrun the relationship out of fear that it will fall apart and they'll miss out if they don't.

Goldie's constantly walking the tightrope of trying to be her people's ambassador and follow wisp culture as a respectable thing, but also confused and torn because wisp culture hasn't been around for very long and also it seems to stress people out so she's constantly confused about whether it's okay to be part of that culture and she's always questioning herself and her instincts and it's rough. I love them tho :')

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In the 130 Prompt "Temptation," Anti-Marigold claims she and Foop shared their first kiss in the cupboard under Crocker's kitchen sink. The backstory for this is that Foop came to help Crocker set up a Valentine's Day trap for Cupid. Foop's heart was never actually in it and he just wanted to hang out with Crocker because Crocker is his friend. Anti-Marigold [Kelsia under age 150k] tagged along as a friend, but in typical V-day episode fashion, Foop's lack of interest in the project and the presence of his friend in a romantic environment got him a little distracted and he kissed her.

It was a pretty simple situation for a simple kiss, but it's definitely that moment that he made the official mental shift towards "Maybe Kelsia can be MY close friend because Goldie isn't that nice to me anyway."

He never told anyone, especially not Poof or his parents, but I like to think Kelsia told Goldie. Goldie's never cared much about Kelsia - As in, Poof has to care about Foop and keep mental tabs on him because of Foop's role in politics and because Foop has tried to kill him on multiple occasions, but Kelsia is just Some Girl In The Woods to Goldie - but Kelsia definitely looks up to Goldie and is slightly desperate for her approval. Adult Anti-Marigold would never admit that, but it's one of her character traits that haunts her actions... She'd like to be a "good girl" in the hopes that Goldie will tell her thanks someday for like... being normal and not trying to kill her.

Foop and Anti-Marigold are aware of each other as they grow up. They went to school together for a while, but she dropped out and got a job at a sandwich shop on the border of Fairy and Anti-Fairy World. Foop makes an effort to say hi to her when he sees her and they hang out on occasion, but she was raised by her sister Anti-Zinnia [and sister's infrequent boyfriends] and didn't exactly have parents who could help schedule playdates or anything like that, so their interactions are kind of sporadic. They definitely saw each other mostly at school and everything after she dropped out was a deliberate effort. She brought him sandwiches sometimes.

Anti-Marigold deals with a lot of imposter syndrome and just general feelings that she's not good enough for Foop and that he's not interested in her (She's also ace and he's aro but they live in a world where they didn't really get exposed to those terms or concepts so they have to figure things out on their own). She's a little stubborn and doesn't like to bend over backwards for him, but she can be coerced because she's pretty soft and doesn't like upsetting anyone. She grew up without solid parental figures, so Anti-Marigold's entire life is about teaching herself how she feels, what her boundaries are, and if it's okay to talk about those things tbh.

I'd say that their first kiss when they're older took place after a sweet outing they went on together, probably something like rotten caramel apples and bitter chocolate drinks, before he walks her home and kisses her on the doorstep. A little more old-fashioned and dignified, which is fitting for an upper-class kid compared to Poof's rough and tumble dugout kisses. tbh they probably went grocery shopping too, they're pretty chill and comfortable around each other... with sprinkles of discomfort when they hit certain topics they don't like discussing. Foop really dislikes speaking directly about their relationship and he'll avoid it as much as possible.

Foop and Anti-Marigold have a completely different vibe than Poof and Goldie do, but they have a lot of their own struggles. They like each other, but Foop absolutely sees her as more of a secret girlfriend than a public girlfriend. When he's with her then he wants them to be boyfriend/girlfriend (Holding hands when they walk, just hanging out and enjoying each other's company), but he also doesn't want to take her out on dates. He'll totally binge-watch shows with her and will absolutely get groceries with her, but he'll bolt if he gets the sense that there's an expectation to take her out and entertain her or give her the chance to reject him... He has a complicated relationship with being admired, hated, and rejected.

Foop never actually gets over his crush on Goldie and it's something he struggles with throughout his post-puberty years. There's a scene in the upcoming story "Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Pixies" where teen Goldie seeks Foop out to confess that she feels like she's wasting her time in school, she feels heavily judged by everyone because of her culture, and she's considering dropping out like her counterpart did. She deliberately went to him instead of Poof because she did feel like she could be a little more open about it with him... They are friends from similar touchy-feely cultures. Foop genuinely does see their relationship as platonic... He just occasionally has moments where he stares at her like "Dang, she's cute" and then he has to remind himself she's not interested in him.

-> There's a scene in an upcoming 130 Prompt ("Denial") where he does confess some of his feelings. Goldie points out that it's a completely normal part of fae biology to fantasize about your crush's counterpart - having counterparts often leads to you wondering what your "other self" is doing and that's just an accepted part of Fairy life - and Foop reflects that his real crush might be on Goldie and he might only like Anti-Marigold because of that, instead of the "more traditional" assumption that Anti-Marigold would be more to his preferences. Rough.

-> In "Temptation," Foop tries explaining this to Anti-Marigold but she starts feeling sick when she tries imagining herself falling for Poof. She sees Poof as a sweaty jock and she can't imagine herself with him. Which is pretty funny because she and Poof are actually great friends- he did a painkiller charm on her in "All I Ever Wanted" and we'll get to see some more of their dynamic in later 130 Prompts like "Happy Holidays." I have a lot of prompts partially written and I'd love to share them, but sadly stories need to go at least a little in order for proper context, even when it's for a one-shot project that jumps around the timeline. Someday...

I love writing the celebrity teens arc because every single dynamic is gold. You've got:

Poof and Foop, counterparts who tolerate each other only out of mutually assured destruction

Poof and Goldie, doomed lovers juggling celebrity expectations, species stereotypes, and constant anxiety

Goldie and Anti-Marigold, the wild go-getter and her quiet shadow who takes the brunt of consequences without speaking up

Foop and Anti-Marigold, a reluctant royal and his mistress of convenience in a relationship he has to maintain to prevent future awkwardness in case their counterparts have a kid

Foop and Goldie, tragically similar in cultural background and political expectations but drastically different in their emotional needs and personal goals

Poof and Anti-Marigold, laid-back BFFs who have nothing in common background-wise but everything in common with those personal goals and emotional needs. Bro / soul sister energy.

And then on top of this there's Hiccup who has his own views on everything, so that's complicated

Also Whistle exists too but he's not much of a celebrity and he's just there because he wants their attention; it's funny

I love these kids, love my takes on them and the worldbuilding I get to play with there <3

#Long post #FAIRIES!#ridwriting #Golden butterfly girl #Purple hippie dragonfly #Dragonfly parents #Love Triangle #130 Prompts #Burnet moth queen #Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Pixies #Hawthorn Haven #? I guess ?

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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reckless [01.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. explicit smut, accidental pregnancy, playboy! gojo, slight angst

✘ note. dedicated to wifey @7tsumurai who also made the banner and always supports me and showers me with love aaaa i love you baby <3 also this fic is mostly romance and fluff so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! thank you to @chosonore for pr-ing UWU. and we get like...10-15 chapters of this?!

one ✘ two ✘ three

You shouldn’t be doing this.

The night was young; streaks of gold flashing with the shimmering jewellery collared on your neck, the romantic humming of the violins pairing perfectly with the champagne that fizzed in your hand. It was supposed to be another day at work where you accompanied your boss to one of his events, considering the Casanova refused to bring his girlfriends in fear they might get the wrong idea he liked them outside the bed. It should be just another day at work; you’ve accompanied him hundreds of times before. Today wasn’t any different.

And yet it was.

You blamed it on the alcohol. On the slow dancing. On the fact he hadn’t stopped complimenting you all night and you’d been so stressed, the amount of planning and sleepless nights sacrificed in exchange of preparing for this event made you grab for three more flutes, the touch of your undeniable attractive boss permanent on your waist.

Satoru was equally aggravated. You’d worked him long enough to recognize even the smallest of cues, and the fact you’d spend nearly every hour of the day working with him for weeks straight in the office let you know he needed to let off some steam.

And what better way to relieve both of your tensions if not to give in to the cloud of lust?

The sultry gazes, the clashing perfumes between rose and musk, and the alcohol – the fucking alcohol – that gave way to you succumbing to your desire just this once.

There were no more thoughts – or if there were, they were muddled – as you kissed him back just as passionately, forgetting the fact his stylist spent an hour gelling his hair back to perfection as your eager fingers traced over his scalp. How you ended up in the back of limousine was beyond you, and neither was it your biggest concern when Satoru insisted you kept your heels on; his large hands caressing all the way from the ankle pressed beside his waist up to your waist.

You felt his daft fingers move the lacy thong you wore especially for tonight (not because you expected something, but the boost in confidence felt necessary) before he slides inside almost too easily.

Both your gasps and moans are swallowed in the stuffy compartment, windows fogged saved for the handprint you’d left when he hit a sensitive spot. He was moaning in your neck, skin slippery and sweaty as you slid from one another, seemingly never staying from one place as your hands treaded through his hair down to rake your nails on his back; his touch angry on your hips before his thumb found home in your clit.

As much as you hated him, hated his reputation, you couldn’t deny he really earned his title for being an absolute god in sex. You were no virgin, but you’d never felt this good, never felt this alive as bruises began to form in your skin and his lips hungrily sought out yours.

“S-Sir...”

“Satoru,” he corrected through your lips, the kiss barely even one when you were too busy moaning left and right. Satoru hitched your leg up to fold it right beside your waist, allowing him to explore deeper territories that not even you could mark.

His stare on you is perverted; openly wanton as he lets his empyrean gaze snake down to where your bodies connected. It was embarrassing to be this spread wide open for him, though it didn’t matter much, not when you clutched onto his bicep for dear life and panted breathlessly. He was kissing you everywhere – smearing your lipstick all over your lips and his, a stain of red on his hard, white collar and love bites marked deep into your collarbones and under your breasts. You tightened around him once he changed his rhythm into a more sensual one; the quick pace replaced with him pulling out slowly – inch by delicious inch until you felt empty with each growing second – before slamming back inside with fervidity that he never quite possessed behind his desk.

He groaned at your walls clenching down on him, his hips stuttering in the process. “Call me Satoru.”

“Satoru,” you moaned out, and his next sounds were pained. Pained because you sounded too gorgeous, felt too good, and with you following his hips thrust by thrust, neither of you would last any longer. Not even as you shake your head, lips swollen as you remind him, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We shouldn’t,” he agreed with a curled lip, sweat beading from the streaks of his white hair. “But I want you – god, you’re so beautiful tonight. Need to fuck you good—”

Gojo Satoru, one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire South East Asia and ranked as the second richest man in his early twenties, was a man of his word despite his reputation. Just as he was praised and fawned over for his beauty, charisma, and power, he was equally hated for breaking the hearts of women and treating his past ‘lovers’ like they were objects. The news were so confident of it; that he fooled them, played around with them, but behind the scenes, you knew Satoru wouldn’t do such a thing – from the first time he laid his eyes on someone, he made it extremely clear they were not to be attached. Everything with him was physical and sensual – anything beyond that would simply be out of character.

You weren’t surprised that he really did keep his word and fuck you good, because you couldn’t feel your legs the next morning and even though it had been hours, you still very much felt the shape of him carve through you.

The bastard wouldn’t stop laughing, of course, snickering under his breath every now and then each time he saw you grimace from doing simple things such as standing up and giving him the files he asked for. Perhaps it was because your dislike for him was apparent that Satoru quickly went back to fooling around, pretending you didn’t exist and only approaching you when need be. There were still moments you had to clean his mess up for him; taking his drunken phone calls at 3am because he got wasted in a bar, or doing the same for his current sex buddy who he didn’t want to stay in his home.

He was terrible, terribly awful that you despised this part of him.

You were only grateful enough that neither of you brought that night up ever again, for no matter how immensely hellish of an experience it had been, it was also something you’d really rather not be reminded of.

But now, there was no more running away from it. The truth stared at you blatantly in the form of two white lines that had appeared four times already from previous tests.

You were pregnant.

The world had never been that heavy on you. You had a rough upbringing, but it was a household filled with love and patience that it was innate in your nature to keep strong, be levelled, continue moving forward even during the times it felt like everyone and everything was going against you. You’d been through so much worse and you can do this, but you still couldn’t stop the tears that pushed from your eyes, your heart shattering the same time you dropped the stick.

“No, we won’t cry, it’s okay. I can handle this – I’m strong,” you repeated to yourself like a mantra, taking deep breaths to stabilize yourself. Clearly, this was unexpected, but you wanted to do your best, had to do your best. You didn’t have time to lose your composure, so you quickly fished your phone out your purse to dial the person you trusted the most.

“Rei...?”

Your best friend picked up on the second dial. “Sweetheart, where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for like hours now and you’re not picking up, I heard you called in sick for work and you never do that even when you’re about to pass out!” Some shuffling could be heard from the background before she spoke again, her tone a lot more gentle in response to your muted sniffles. “Is there something going on? Do you need me to drop by there right now? Tell me what you need; I’ll be there right away.”

“No, no, Rei, it’s fine, I just...”

“Sweetie,” she sighed, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see it. Rei had been there for you in everything, starting from when you newly arrived in the city; fresh-eyed and hopeful for new opportunities. She’d been there when you first complained your boss was a creepy flirt, all the way until you’d made peace with said boss and remained firm in your boundaries. But those boundaries had clearly been crossed – no, rather, you erased those boundaries. You were drunk enough to give in to the need to be touched, but sober enough to consent to everything that happened. You couldn’t place this all on him.

“I’m pregnant,” you said eventually, voice barely above a whisper as you added, “And Satoru’s the father.”

Rei stopped munching on her – you assume – bagel.

“Satoru? Gojo Satoru, your boss, bonafide casanova, the face on billboards and one of the most “eligible” bachelors in the country, billionaire Gojo Satoru?” she let out in one breath, the image of her flipping her hand out in the air in disbelief as clear as day. “Am I really hearing this right? I’m not going crazy, am I?”

You sighed.

“We were drunk. I slept with him.”

“Did that bastard force himself on you?”

“No, gosh, never,” you defended with widened eyes, sitting back down on the toilet with the lid now closed. You couldn’t look at the tests even if you dared yourself to, the plastic bag concealed in the garbage or else you’d feel sick all over again. “I-I wanted it too...we just got carried away and the night was just...I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me and why I did that, but there’s no point in fretting about it because I’m carrying his baby now.”

“Well,” she started unsurely, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m keeping it. There’s no way I would even consider abortion.”

“But what about him?”

The back of your head throbbed in pain. Just thinking about his stupidly handsome face made you want to throw up once more. “I don’t really want to tell him, but he has a right to know that he’s going to be a father.”

“Will he even take responsibility for it?”

You swallowed nervously, nibbling on your thumbnails before snatching your hand away. Composure was something you didn’t struggle with; you were the more reliable one in the duo of you and Satoru, but you had a bad habit of picking on your nails whenever you were anxious. Had it not been for Satoru flicking your nails away from your mouth each time you dazed out a little bit, you would’ve never gotten rid of the habit, but it all came crashing back down on you in an instant.

A heavy knot formed in your belly.

“Most likely not, I know how he’s like. He loves his single life so much that he’d never allow to be tied down like this. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he tells me he doesn’t want it.”

“What an asshole!”

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t need him in my life,” you reinstated, finally feeling more confident the longer you talked to Rei. She was your instant hype machine in more ways than one; her presence itself gave you the reassurance you could handle everything your way. With hope blooming in your chest, you picked yourself of the toilet and wiped away your tears. You could do this – you can handle this. Not just for you, but this baby growing in you as well.

“In our life. I’m more than capable of taking care of the baby myself,” you told her, gaze hard and determined as your sunken reflection stared back at you in the mirror. Sighing, you shook your head and pictured Satoru’s face, already picturing a thousand ways this could go wrong. Only one way to find out.

“I have to go now. He needs to hear about this and then I’ll resign. Probably move back home – anywhere that’s away from him.”

“Doesn’t the baby deserve to meet their dad?”

“Their dad doesn’t even want to be one,” you muttered bitterly and threw your sweater back on, refusing to kick yourself around any harder. Now wasn’t the time to be illogical; you were now a mother and had to be responsible now more than ever. But first, you needed some well-deserved rest after endless agonizing of missing your period, along with the baby drop that until now, had shook you to your core. “I’ll call you back, Rei. I’m very tired.”

“You let me know if you need anything, okay?” Humming in response, you ended the call and crawled back to bed.

It wasn’t that you felt lonely, but you didn’t feel particularly belonging anywhere. You were far from home in a city that felt like the future, and each day you come home, it was mostly just a place to rest before you went back to work the next day. It was a dull, empty routine that you’d gotten used to, but never had it sunk deep into you that you did felt completely hollow.

But not anymore.

You were with your baby now, and as much as it scared you shitless to be a mother with zero preparation and knowledge, you were confident things were going to be okay.

Wrapping an arm around your belly, you had the best sleep you’d had in years.

You’d just have to worry about tomorrow. Hopefully, and you quite prayed harder than you ever did before, Satoru would let you go and keep things less complicated than it already was.

“No,” Satoru shook his head, his words dropping like a heavy boulder in the middle of nowhere. You stood in front of him shock still, hands wrung solid beneath your belly. Satoru merely shook his head, brushing back his gelled hair with a dry laugh. “No, what are you even thinking? You’re not resigning.”

You pursed your lips. “I wasn’t really asking for permission, Sir.”

Truth be told, you expected this sort of reaction from him. It may be true that you and Satoru never got along in personal levels since he was too crass and you much stiff, but it couldn’t be denied you worked well together. You balanced each other’s flaws and brought out the best in one another. If someone had asked you years ago prior to you being employed by the heir if you could even tame the renowned free spirited man, you would’ve said probably not, but after sharing struggles and quite literally forcing one another to do better, you both reached highs neither expected to achieve.

It was an experience and a whole lot lessons learned working with him.

Unfortunately, all things must come to an end, and you had to leave even if Satoru negated to it.

“We’ve been working together for years. Do you know how many people I fired and have resigned all because they’re not equipped for the job?” he plopped down atop his desk, loosening his tie out of frustration. The simple gesture made you swallow and look away – it felt impossible to look at him any other way than a boss now that you had his baby inside you. Thankfully, Satoru was mouthy as usual that he pulled you back from your train of thoughts as he gestured between the both of you. “You and I are perfectly compatible – I can’t let you go like that. I’m sorry, but I need you. There’s no one else I can work with this functionally. No one else is as willing to tolerate my bullshit except you and...I need you to stay.”

You clenched your teeth at the desperation in his voice.

Satoru admitting he needed people was one thing. But him asking others to stay? It may have just been for your value as the only person who had put up with him in both his best and worst times that made him feel that way, but you had to keep your foot down on the ground.

You wouldn’t let him sway you like this.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and willed all your energy to spring forth. “Sir...I’m more than thankful for all the opportunities, it truly was a pleasure working with you but—”

“Is this because we slept together?” he cut you off, your shoulders tensing. Upon your silence, Satoru heaved himself away from the desk and took cautious step towards you, stopping a foot away when you stepped back defensively.

You almost wished you didn’t know him so well. His eyes shone with a flicker of hurt before he masked it just as quick as it had came – for Gojo Satoru was a master of many things, and a great actor was one of them. Cautious, you had to be cautious, and you clenched your fists behind your pencil skirt as you tore your gaze away from his pleading ones. “It is, isn’t it?” he affirmed with a clear of his throat, looking just as lost as you did. Satoru stuttered for a minute before he eventually composed himself, but even then, he didn’t sound half as sure as he wanted to be.

“Listen, whatever happened that night, we can forget about it if you want. We’re both adults and professionals – we can put this aside us and just go back to normal. You don’t have feelings for me, right? So then it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Satoru...it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” he demanded, aggravated. Satoru began to round his desk and pulling out little white envelopes, stacking them before you in a haste. “Do you want a pay raise? A new car so you could get to work easily? O-or perhaps a bigger house where you can work more comfortably, somewhere nearer to the office? All you have to do is tell me and I’ll give you what you want. There’s no need for you to resign, this company has given you everything and we’ve got so much offer just as you could still be great—”

“I’m pregnant.”

Satoru’s slender fingers halted around the pen hovering over a cheque slip. “What?”

“I said I’m pregnant,” you exhaled, biting down on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from quivering. A quick sweep from your face to gather sincerity trailed down to your belly, staring at you hard enough as if he had the ability to look through your soul. “And you’re the father.”

“Is that true? Is...is it really mine?”

“Yes sir,” you nodded, “I’m not telling you this because I expect that you’ll be responsible for it. No offense, sir, but I’d really rather raise the baby alone. Plus, I understand that you’ll never settle down or suddenly abandon your old ways just to—”

“Stop right there,” he raised a palm, “You mean to tell me you’re resigning because you thought I wouldn’t take responsibility for it? For you?”

The hurt in his voice and expressions were evident, lip curled in disgust; not for you, but rather of himself. Satoru was the type of man that couldn’t be withered down even with the harshest of rumours; you’d never seen him be affected before by tabloids and nasty ex-girlfriends who only slept with him for money or fame, only to talk smack about him afterwards. But now, he was crumbling before you, and you didn’t know quite what to say or feel over the vulnerability present in his cerulean eyes. It almost pained you know that you caused this – for the comforting, blue sky to be tainted with a thunderstorm that hinted of anger, of disappointment, of betrayal.

But could he blame you for not thinking the best of him?

“I’ve worked with you for years, sir, I know you.”

“Clearly not well enough,” he chuckled sarcastically, “Admittedly, I’m surprised, but not upset. The only thing that I’m upset about is that you actually believed it would be better to raise the baby – our baby – alone like I don’t even have a right to be in their life. Sure, it was an accident, but we made that. That’s our child and I’m going to take care of you and be a great father, even if you don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Sir, I didn’t mean—”

“That’s the first time you said something stupid. That’s our baby. We’re a family now,” Satoru’s hesitance had vanished into thin air as he was on you the next instant, hands shaky before they landed on your shoulders. It was meant to be a comforting gesture; a reassuring one, yet you couldn’t help but flinch and falter under his gaze. As if getting the message, he quickly retracted his hands and shoved them deep inside his pockets with a sigh. “You don’t need to resign or worry about anything else. I promise I’ll give you both the life you deserve, just...just please don’t go. Now that I know we have a baby, there’s just no way I can let go of this and pretend I never heard of this at all.”

You swallowed, rubbing your sweaty palms on your skirt.

Out of all the different scenarios you stayed up late at night to turning your head in one by one, none of them included this. Undeniably, he was an asshole to most, but maybe he was right.

He hadn’t done anything wrong to you and he was still the father of your baby; he deserved a chance. Satoru had the right to be the father he was willing to be. You could already tell this might completely turn into one big mess, but his eyes were so hopeful, his smile so nervous yet expectant that you couldn’t help but say –

“Okay,” you relented.

His reaction was instantaneous. Satoru beamed and lounged at you, arms wide open for an embrace before realizing at the last second you could stab him with a pen and not regret it. One warning glare sent his way and he was retracing his arm behind his head, pretending to stretch with an off-tune whistle.

The sudden switch between pained and enthusiastic gave you whiplash, but you really shouldn’t be surprised. This was Gojo Satoru in the first place – he was as unpredictable as nothing was permanent and lasting to him.

It could be both a blessing and a curse.

For the sake of your baby, you genuinely hoped it was the former.

Not wanting him to get too ahead of himself since you still didn’t trust him enough, you raised a finger to poke him in the chest. Right now, you were no longer his secretary that openly despised him but added six sugar cubes in his coffee just as he liked anyway, but rather a woman who shared this mess with him, and as the mother of his child. You had to be strong. Being with Satoru felt like playing with fire, and you had far too much at stake – both of you did – but you weren’t privileged and fortunate like Satoru. One bad thing thrown his way could be brushed off, but for you? Everything you worked hard for could disappear just like that.

If you really chose now to play with fire, you had to be careful not to be the gasoline that ignited things to burn down into ashes.

“Satoru,” you stressed with your lips pressed into a thin line, “The only thing I expect from you is to be is a good father to our child. I know that it would be difficult for you to be a new person in a day and that your old habits won’t die right away, so please do what you can to be a good parent, and I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promise you don’t have to worry about me getting in the way of your life as well.”

His smile slowly vanished.

“Is that how low you really think of me?” he echoed rather sadly, “That I would still sleep around knowing I’ve got a family now?”

“We’re not a family, Sir. I have no intentions of marrying you nor would I ever want it. I’m just staying for the baby.”

“Fine. For the baby, let’s both do our best,” he crossed his arms on his chest, pumping out the hard muscles from how tight his shirt was. You were stuck between wanting to slap him or be closer to him; the hormones too much of a mess that you had to grip your thigh for restraint. “But tomorrow, you’re moving in with me. I’m going to take care of you from now on – I’ll get you whatever you need so whatever it is, just tell me. My credit card is yours to use as well.”

Move in with him? You wanted to laugh. That was the last thing you would want to happen.

“Sir, it’s fine, I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, but I want to take care of you both,” he reiterated, growing slightly annoyed from your rigidness. You professed that you were being difficult right now, but it was much better than being easy around someone like him.

“We don’t have to be friends or lovers, alright? I know you don’t see me that way and I’m probably repulsive in your eyes – which is understandable since you always clean my mess up for me – but as a father, at least, let me do my job. There doesn’t have to be anything between us other than a mutual want to be good parents. Is that alright with you?”

You mulled the thought over in your head. So he was capable of being sensible sometimes, and after a few moments of silence, you narrowed your eyes at him.

Still suspicious and your guard was most definitely still up, but he was right. You both had a mutual want to be good parents and that was the most important thing right now. Everything else that complicated matters would be handled afterwards.

“I’m okay with that, but I would have to set down lots of boundaries if I’m living with you.”

“So you’ll really stay with me then?” You regretted nodding in response because Satoru was now fishing his phone out, a goofy smile on his face.

He took the news...surprisingly well, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

“Perfect! I’ll have your room prepared!” You tried to grab his arm to stop him from going overboard; knowing full well Satoru always had rushes in which he impulsively overdoes things. He might turn your room into some sort of grand suite that you wouldn’t really like, but he was far too excited and lost in his own thoughts that your words went from one ear and out the other. “Fuck,” he laughed to himself, “I’m going to be a dad.”

Whether it was relief or anxiety that bubbled through you, you had no idea.

It was definitely anxiety.

Satoru felt like a hyper child to be around, and as much as you were grateful that he was happy about this, you also wished he would calm down. You didn’t even have enough chance to settle in before he’s shoving you inside room by room, announcing that what was his was also yours and he would have a baby room set up next week.

You followed him around like a puppy as he marched into the kitchen, mumbling incoherently to himself about baby proofing furniture.

“Sir,” you called out, “Sir, listen to me. We need to talk about boundaries.”

Satoru blinked owlishly at your tired eyes, sheepishly smiling at you. It must’ve dawned on him that his speed tour of his penthouse felt a lot more overwhelming than welcoming, and he sat you down on the island stools before drumming his fingers impatiently on the cool marble. “Sorry, you were saying? I kind of got carried away.”

Carried away was far an understatement.

“I said, we need to talk about boundaries.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” he paused with a furrow in his brow. “Also can you just call me Satoru? We’re going to be parents anyway and it’s awkward if you keep uh, calling me Sir.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, not really in the mood to argue with him right now. You had to keep intact with him while you still had his full attention. Taking out a little notepad you prepared the night before, you slid it over Satoru who tilted his head to the side rather cutely to read it. “So here are my boundaries. One, I don’t want this pregnancy to be announced in the media unless I’m ready. I understand that we can’t keep this a secret forever but I need time to process this. Two, just because we’re living in the same roof together doesn’t mean that I get to go anywhere and everywhere with you. I’m going to work by myself—”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I said no,” he repeated more firmly this time. “You’re pregnant and I want to make sure you’re safe at all times. I’m driving you to work.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said? I don’t want to be seen with you.”

“You’re my secretary. People see us together all the time.”

“But you never drove me to work! I live far from the office and I most definitely don’t drive an Audi.”

“Things change, that’s your life now,” Satoru shrugged nonchalantly, stealing the pen you twirled in your hands. The sudden contact sent jolts of electricity from your knuckles, one that had you recanting your hands back to yourself. Satoru didn’t seem to notice as he crosses out the second rule, “Sorry not sorry but I don’t want to let you go places like that. Fine by me if you don’t want me to drive you, but at least have one of the chauffeurs take you somewhere if you really don’t wanna be seen with me.”

“Fine,” you gritted your teeth. Compromise, compromise, meet in the middle – you repeated to yourself to keep your sanity. “Rule number three: I don’t want you changing your attitude around me. We may have a baby on the way, but you’re still my boss and I want to keep our relationship professional.”

“You’re saying I’m not allowed to fall in love with you?”

You flicked his forehead, effectively erasing the teasing grin he wore. “That’s not going to happen,” you interjected irritably, although your heart skip a beat. That was a massive red flag already; you could never be too comfortable with him. For Satoru, his little comments here and there may come naturally and probably meant nothing to him, but there was a chance you could receive it with different interpretations. Shaking your head at him, you ignored his grumblings on how ‘mean’ you were. “We’re never going to be a couple. We’re just raising a child together. I don’t want you acting weird or too comfortable with me.”

Satoru scratched the side of his head as he mulled about it, “Are we allowed to be friends, at least? I understand the professional part, but I can’t imagine the both of us getting along for nine months and more when we act like boss and employee even alone at home,” before you could say anything, Satoru raised his hands in surrender. “I promise I won’t do anything weird to you. No offense, but you’re not really my type, so same as you, I view you platonically.”

Right. The heart surely was stupid and confusing.

You didn’t want him getting any ideas that this could lead to something more, but at the same time, it hurt a little to know you weren’t his type.

Hiding that pang of hurt behind a tight lipped smile, you forced yourself to agree with him. “I view you professionally, Sir.”

“Satoru.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled. “Rule number four: don’t bring home any of your fuck buddies or flavour of the night. I really don’t care if you sleep around, but respect my privacy and my standing as the mother of your childIf you’re really desperate to get your dick wet, go fuck them somewhere else.”

“You’ve never been this vulgar with me.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. Despite countless of times that he tried being friendly with you to ease your stiffness in the office, you always shot him down.

You came to the city to work and provide for your family, not to be friends with your annoyingly hot boss who enjoyed his life way too much. Unlike him, you were more work than play, and eventually Satoru respected the fact you would never speak or treat him casually.

Until now.

“Try being in my shoes and see if you’d still have the patience of a saint,” you mumbled under your breath, sighing when Satoru’s smile got more awkward. “Listen, Satoru, I don’t mean to be difficult, okay? It’s just...this is a lot. This isn’t just us about anymore – we’re going to be parents and that’s a huge responsibility. It’s not only our lives changing here, a child will be relying on us in the future and I simply want to be a good mother, but I also don’t trust you very well to be comfortable enough to act like we’re suddenly friends.”

“I understand that.”

“Good.”

“Do you have rule number five?”

“No, not really, but I can add more as we go.”

“I have a rule number five,” he piped in, flipping the notepad his way as he scribbled something down. “And it’s that if you need help – and I mean with anything – you would let me help you. I’ve worked with you for a long time and I’m not dumb enough to not notice you like to do things by yourself. Like you said, things are different now, and especially with this pregnancy, you’re not alone in this. You need to let me take over the wheel sometimes. I can’t be just a passenger in the car – you and I are both in this together.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself.”

“That’s easy,” he chirped, and there was that uncomfortable knot in your chest again. However, it didn’t sink in too deep because Satoru was blatantly staring at your belly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So do we have a name for them already?”

“Satoru, I’ve only been a few weeks pregnant, I don’t—”

Conflicting his previous statement that he’d keep his hands to himself, Satoru suddenly dropped to his knees. You watched with wide eyes, too flabbergasted to move as he places his ear on your belly.

“Hi there, little one,” he spoke in a soft tone, large hands caressing the tiny bump beginning to form. You couldn’t move; hell, you could barely breathe from how comforting his touch seemed in contrast to your mind ringing warning bells above. His voice quickly pulled you back to reality as he flattened his palm, white lashes fluttering against the cotton of your shirt. “I’m your daddy; I can’t wait to meet you. Daddy promises to take good care of you and make you the happiest kid ever, alright? You don’t have to worry about anything as long as I’m here.”

“D-don’t spoil them too much, Satoru.”

“I’ll try not to,” he chuckled. Satisfied with that small moment he had, he straightened up and trudged over the dining table that was far too big for a man who lived alone. In that moment, an image flashed in your mind – that someday that table would no longer look empty as you and your child shared meals with him. You could already imagine how heavenly the sun would shine on the glass windows behind it, the flowers gathered in the middle of the table blooming to life.

Out of nowhere, it struck you.

Could it be that this was why he loved this baby so much after only knowing about it for a few days? Could it be that Satoru really was alone?

“Okay, we should probably have a welcoming dinner! The chefs left me something tonight. I forgot what it’s called but I think you’ll like it. Grab some wine on the cellar for me?”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, right! My bad,” he clapped his hands together before pulling out ceramics and a cold pitcher, “Just water for mommy then,” Satoru said absentmindedly, completely oblivious to how your mind short-circuited a few feet away from him. He went about his way ignorant to it all and gently tugged you to sit with him, eagerly digging into the heated meals as you realized both of you hadn’t eaten.

For a guy who talked a lot, dinner with him was surprisingly quiet. Other than the occasional clinking of utensils against the plate, you enjoyed the silence with him.

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible since Satoru made it his daily business to always fill in the gaps. Peace and comfort stretched before you the whole time, however, that for a moment, just a short moment, you found yourself letting your guard down. Even when you both caught each other’s in the middle of a bite, you found no tension or awkwardness in it. Perhaps it was the familiarity of being beside each other for years now that this should feel natural, or maybe it was because you both mutually agreed on wanting the best for your baby. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to overcomplicate it right now.

“You know, I’m really excited about this. I can’t believe I’m actually going to be a father,” he mused through a bite, swirling his red wine through his glass. Satoru gazed at his reflection almost dreamily, seemingly too deep in thought that he felt far from reach.

Or maybe you were the one who was detached, the one who kept pushing him away, because you could offer him nothing but a lame nod. “I’m glad to hear that...”

“What about you? You don’t look too happy.”

Your eyes widened at his worry. “No, I-I’m happy, of course. It’s just...it’s unplanned, and I’ve had my whole life planned out that I’m not really sure how this will all fall into place together.”

“Hey,” he laced his fingers with yours, squeezing warmth back into your skin that you hadn’t noticed turned cold from the nerves. Unlike his usual self with eyes brimming with glee, you could only see tenderness in him now, some sort of silent vow through a private smile shared only between the two of you in that moment in the solace of his home. Your home. “I promise I’ll be there for you and the baby every step of the way. I know that I haven’t had the best reputation and I have zero idea on parenting, but you’re not alone in this. You can trust me on this one, just like how we always trusted each other during work. Being a parent and running a business are both responsibilities right?”

“Yeah...”

“Well then you already know we work well together. We’re great partners!” he cheered, patting your shoulder way too bro-like. You resisted the urge to cringe. “We’ll be great parents, Y/N. I’m sure of that.”

Unsure of what else to do, you squeezed his hand back. He was right, you would be great parents as long as both of you never gave up. The thought of eating meals with him again with another addition to the table made you smile, and you hadn’t noticed you were spacing out, thumb running over his knuckles that were smooth for a man who never knew a day of hard labour. It wasn’t until you felt something prodding at you metaphorically, and you chuckled nervously as you saw Satoru smiling mysteriously at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” he grinned, “I’ve just never seen you this close before; not so much that I paid attention anyway. But this is nice – having you here, I mean. It gets lonely here sometimes.”

“Don’t you bring your girlfriends around?”

“I never make them stay,” was all he said, and just like that, whatever thread that was beginning to form snapped. Satoru released his hold on you and gestured to your plate, carrying the dishes in his hand before leaving you alone on the table. Like always – a whiplash. “I’ll clean up, you can rest in your room now. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Do you even know how to do them?”

“Yeah, my mother forced me to wash dishes because she didn’t want me to rely on the house help too much,” he informed, the new information shocking you right to the core as he put on dishwashing gloves and started scrubbing. From this angle, he sure looked damn nice and domestic in just a white shirt, hair ruffled down to bangs. “I’ll be right there with you,” Satoru announces casually, spinning on his heel with red cheeks once he realized what he said. “For just a goodnight, I mean! We’re not sharing rooms!”

“Yeah, no,” you coughed out, “We’re definitely not.”

It felt…surreal, to wake up in a room much grandiose than yours yet felt like home even for the first night. Satoru handled your moving in rather happily; you found him singing to himself this morning as he brewed his own coffee before realizing you were right behind him, sleepy as you lazily made waffles for the both of you. Everything flowed nicely and normally, like this had always been a normal thing that for a moment, you questioned once more what would happen next.

You were now getting ready for work, hands tugging at his tie because he was such a man-child who couldn’t even properly knot his own tie. His suit was custom tailored and he looked effortlessly gorgeous – beauty ripped straight from magazines he was constantly a front page of, but his tie was skewered and loose that it irritated you.

“You’re such a mess without me.”

Satoru bent down to wiggle his brows at you, thought you didn’t notice because he wouldn’t stay still for you to fix his tie fast enough. “Isn’t this sweet; you fixing my tie for me as we both get ready for work?” he teased, “We’re like a married couple already.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m kicking you in the nuts.”

“Then how can I give you more babies?” picking up the newspaper on the coffee table beside you, you rolled it and started whacking him, a string of profanities colorfully painting his otherwise monochrome and sleek walls. Satoru’s laughter boomed all over the room even as he wiggled away from you, clutching his bicep that had been the victim of your abuse. “Ow, ow, I was joking! Jeez, woman, you are strong. Fight men a lot like this?”

“I work with you. My fighting instincts are always activated.”

His laugh really was annoying. But it did help ease your nerves – though you’d never tell him that – as you sat beside him in his car, the expensive leather seats no longer strange to you. It would’ve felt like any other day where you accompanied him somewhere, except the reason was different now, and it came crashing down on you of your current situation that things were undeniably different from now on.

You immediately stepped away from him the moment you got out of the car, clutching your clipboard to your tummy when Satoru bumped his shoulder with yours. “Come closer, it’s fine. No one will suspect a thing,” he points to the crowded building with people bumping and walking past each other, everyone too occupied in their own heads to even notice you.

It wasn’t much, but hearing his voice and reassurances relaxed you, even for just a little bit. Maybe your first day at work after the baby news wouldn’t be so bad, after all, but it seemed you had spoken too early.

Satoru heavily insisted that you worked inside his office from now on.

Your desk was located right outside his office, the phone line always within reach in case you needed to pass calls to him or if he needed you to come. Satoru preferred the privacy of his own space – or so he said; he actually just didn’t want you to witness him slacking around and experience your wrath – but now he was dragging you inside his office, pushing your shoulders down until you were ‘settled in.’

You didn’t even want to ask where he got a new desk from, or why it had to be right across from him. His desk remained elevated on a few levels, the welcoming lobby of the room filled with couches and stacks of coffee with a rich amount of sugar cubes.

Safe to say, most of the morning was spent (or rather, wasted) on you telling Satoru off. The man was too persistent, coming in on the office at random times of the hour with either snacks or heaps of biscuits on his arms. He always greeted you with a wide grin on his face, only to be kicked out of his own office because you had his hellish schedule and events to deal with. That was around three hours ago when you’d asked him to shut up and go bother someone else. You were halfway around finishing your workload for today when the door swung open, a tuft of white hair and mischievous eyes peeking through.

“Hey! Just checking in on mommy—”

“Satoru!”

“What? It’s just you and I,” he defended with a shrug, welcoming himself inside. Surprisingly, he was empty handed, though the pout on his lips told you it was against his will. “Seriously though, do you need anything? Do you want snacks? Tea? Do you need help going to the bathroom? You haven’t moved in your desk for an hour now.”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant, not disabled,” you ignored him for a while, resuming to working back on his schedule for the month. There were a bunch of e-mails you still had to respond to, which normally wouldn’t be such a daunting task if Satoru wasn’t shifting his weight from one foot to another, the sounds of his shoes hitting the tiles in an annoying click-clack rhythm getting to you. “Will you stop fidgeting! Your anxiety gives me anxiety, stop that!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, I just feel like there’s something I should be doing.”

“Shutting up and letting me work in peace would be great, thank you.”

“You really don’t need anything?” Sending him a warning glare, Satoru sucked in his cheeks and ran back to his desk where he hid behind the safety of his large monitor. “Nope, yeah, I got the message: leave you alone. Good luck with that then, I’ll need those archives to pull up for our meeting with the directors later at five.”

Muttering a sarcastic finally under your breath, you resumed working.

The routine was per usual – answer the calls professionally with a welcoming and sweet voice, a pen always in one hand to jot down notes in reminders, adjust his schedules, work out his plans, go to him whenever he needed to sign something before responding back to e-mails. You were focused as you always were, but someone wasn’t, and it was getting harder and harder to keep being placated.

It didn’t help that he made no effort to hide the fact he was slacking off, the tip-taps of him randomly pressing keys on the keyboard similar to a fork dragging down a plate.

“I can feel you burning holes at the back of my head,” you twittered, “What do you need?”

“Nothing at all. I’m just realizing how beautiful you are right now.”

You paused. Unable to deny your curiosity over how serious he sounded, you spun around in your swivel chair. Satoru had his chin on his hands as he stared right back at you, his face devoid of expression that you couldn’t pick up on a single clue. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course the bastard would be teasing you, his loud chuckles a painful reminder of that. It was best to ignore him, so you went back to reading e-mails and forced yourself to focus on the task at hand. “We’re at work. Please stop distracting me; I can’t focus when you’re staring at me like a creep.”

“Sorry, babe, I’ll try to be less distracting next time, though I can’t control my charisma, you know!”

You jotted your thumb to your desk outside, “I can walk back to my desk where you can’t see me. That’d be a great for both of us.”

“Stay right there, I was joking!”

“Do you promise to be quiet and actually do your job if I stay?”

“With you disciplining and ordering me around like that, why not?” Mouth open for another heated retort, Satoru stopped you before you could say anything, his aura more serious this time. He was always like this; fooling around and maturing the next second, only for the cycle to repeat and test your patience. “I’m just teasing you, Y/N, I’ll shut up now. You’re free to end work as soon as you’re tired though; the driver is waiting in the parking lot whenever you want to go home.”

“I’ll go home with you.” Home. It felt weird to say that, but also…natural.

“You’ll stay with me at work today?” He sounded genuinely surprised, and you responded with a one-shoulder shrug. That seemed to be enough for him, however, and it wasn’t long before Satoru found the oh so rare and fleeting motivation to work hard.

Once he was settled, sleeves rolled up to expose his veiny forearms and brows furrowed as he centered all his attention on the pile of paperwork before him, there was no stopping him.

Roles reversed and positions switched, you were now the one unable to take your eyes off him.

In this light, in this moment, Gojo Satoru had never looked more beautiful. He was much the same as you in the manner you never really noticed each other this way before; not romantically, but even just person to person. In your eyes, he was nothing but your irritating boss whose boisterous self always crowded over your peace, and in his eyes, you were nothing but his secretary who he knew always silently hoped would leave you alone.

But things were different now. You were different now.

Boundaries there may be, you couldn’t help that fluttering forming in your stomach. Contentment, happiness, relief, nervousness – all of them jumbled into one big mess. Out of them all, however, there was most definitely adoration, either out of respect for his unexpected kindness, or simply because it felt nice to feel for once.

Turning away from him until your back was the only thing he could see, you hid your smile as you secretly held your belly.

You’d never been reckless before, but what was to be a good story when there wasn’t a mistake or two made?

3K notes · View notes

sunfish-studies · 3 years ago

Text

Sour

✄・・・ Crisp Leaves [Aoba Johsai Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Aoba Johsai x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none, just fluff and jealousy.

➜ Notes: Manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall, around 170.5 cm.

[Re-Post]

↷ SUMMARY ↶

They didn’t need to fight anyone for your attention–however, it seemed that they need to re-evaluate the statement if you’re around simpletons from another team.

Yes, there’s no manager better than you–Seijoh could say this with utmost pride. You scored yet another practice camp but this time with another school group. Apparently, a friend of your father from Tokyo, who’s a coach for a high school volley team called and asked if you want to participate in a practice camp.

“Now, thanks to your manager, we managed to get another practice camp and this time it’s in Tokyo,” Coach Irihata announced, which made the team blinked. “The details will be explained by your manager.”

“Nekomata-sensei, Nekoma’s coach, invited us to join in the Fukurodani Academy Group training camp.” You began. “So, there will be around four schools who participate in this–Nekoma High School, Fukurodani Academy, Shinzen High School, and Ubugawa High School. And you guys need to hear another exciting news,”

You grinned. “Apparently, he also invited Karasuno High School!”

That’s the prologue of the whole event and another future problem befallen to the team.

“Hey, hey, hey! Did you see my straight, [Name]-chan!? It’s awesome right!?”

“It sure did, Bokuto-san.”

“W-what about my feint!?”

“It’s amazing too, Shoyo-kun.”

Cue to series of stuttered thank you and a loud series of laugh booming in the gym.

You weren’t a type of person who blatantly ignore someone, especially when it was harmless–which was the reason why you were quick to be surrounded by a bunch of simpletons who were strive for praises. Before was Hinata and Kageyama, and now another two has arrived as soon as they joined the training camp.

Much worse? You indulged their antics and even called them cute. Them? Stealing your attention could be called cute? No.

Well, now that they thought about it–you’ve been stealing attentions when you stepped into the building.

“Woow! You’re super tall! Are you really a manager!?” Fukurodani’s enthusiastic captain jumped in, standing right in front of you. Maybe it’s because he never saw someone like you and this would be the first time he did.

“Bokuto-san, you’re being rude.” Their setter, Akaashi, immediately interjected. “I’m sorry, sometimes he couldn’t control himself.”

“And you’re way taller than Yaku-san! Look Yaku-san she’s taller than you!” a huge mixed foreigner with over 6 foot tall also joined in with the same enthusiasm–and earning a kick on the back from Nekoma’s libero, Yaku.

“LEV! Stop bothering other people!”

“A-another beautiful lady manager!!” A guy with mohawk cut screamed, his eyes filled with tears.

“Yamamoto, shut up!!”

That sums about what would happen for the next few days–total chaos. That and the fact you flaunted over Kageyama almost constantly was also rather tick them off.

“Tobio-kun, you’re in good shape today! The setter dump you did was amazing! It caught me off guard!”

“T-thank you!”

Oikawa grumbled, tightening his grip on his drinking bottle in frustration. He then turned to look at their coach and pointed out the irritating display of relationship. “Coach, do something about that!”

“What? Why?” Coach Irihata rose an eyebrow, not getting what he meant. “She always did her job taking notes, brief you, and prioritizing at taking care of you. She did that after she’s finished with her job, I have no complains.”

“But coach!” the brunette whined.

“I have to say it’s quite pissing me off for some reason,” Hanamaki commented, frowning slightly at how you strive on a comfortable conversation with Kageyama.

Most of them knew the kind of relationship you’re in–Kageyama’s safe place is you since you’re the one who sticked to him since middle school even through his lowest moment as the King of the Court. Meanwhile, you never forget Kageyama after graduated, keeping close contact with him even frequently have an outing with him during break.

Still, they couldn’t swallow down the green monster called jealousy to surfaced.

“No wonder I always feel frustrated,” Kindaichi muttered underneath his breath.

“Right?” Yahaba remarked. “I know senpai is kind, but still-!”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but sighed over his team member’s own weirdness and Matsukawa decided to pat his back in consolation. The brunette glanced at Kyotani (who looked done with Oikawa and Yahaba), Kunimi (who pouted but still keep silent), and finally Watari (who didn’t know what to say). At least there were some people who’s still sane.

But there were times Iwaizumi himself getting pissed off–no, not because [Name] had her attention elsewhere. It’s because every time he felt there’s something he needed, there’s always someone who’s interrupting.

When it’s break time, Iwaizumi decided it would be the best choice to tape his fingers because he jammed them a little while blocking Bokuto’s spike. The sheer power was impressive. Approaching their manager, he said, “[Name], I need help in taping my fingers-“

“Hey, [Name]-chan!!” Fukurodani’s captain cut him off with his loud greeting (and since when he’s on first name basis anyway?). “Are my spikes amazing today!? What do you think!? It’s amazing right? Right!?”

With the tape in hand, you turned your head to face him and smiled at his eagerness. “They’re all amazing, Bokuto-san. Especially the line shot you did, it’s intense!”

“RIGHT!?” there went his boisterous laugh.

“Is it comfortable enough?” you asked Iwaizumi as he flexed his fingers–checking it briefly.

He hummed. “Maybe a little tighter-“

“[Name]-senpai! Please tape my fingers too!” Iwaizumi felt his eyebrow twitched from the second interruption he received. Lev was jogging towards them with his own tape in hand.

“Sure, Haiba-kun,” you easily agreed. “Wait until Hajime’s turn is done, okay? Hajime, what about now?”

“It’s good. When should I get this off-“

“[Name]-senpai!! Can you help me with the receives!?” this time it was Hinata and Iwaizumi just wanted to bang his head to the nearest wall.

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after-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on

Word Count: 3646

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. It would certainly not be the first time that Chrollo had brought back something ostentatious, something glittering and expensive; something that you (if you were to psychoanalyze him, which you did, out of anxiety first and boredom second) would guess he wanted you to admire before it disappeared into the ether like so many other things he’d pilfered over the past few months.

What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on.

At first you thought you’d misheard, your brain still pulling itself out of a dull, listless sleep. You had argued with him the night before, and the space between you on the bed was thick and heavy with tension until you had finally slid headlong into sleep. Surely he wouldn’t try to give you a gift after you spend most of the evening reminding him that you’ll never love him, or even like him, much less feel one iota of happiness in his presence.

But then he repeated the suggestion.

“Why?” Your tone is borderline acidic, and you don’t feel the need to hide your suspicion of his intentions.

Your captor had no doubt become well-acquainted with your nastiness over the months, though he rarely reacted to it with more than a tight expression, if he even gave you that. Sometimes he simply ignored you, as if you were a child having a tantrum, not his kidnapped victim.

In some ways, it was a surprising relief. In some ways, you could consider yourself lucky. Considering his abilities, considering his past, considering what he did when he left you alone in the condo or hotel or wherever he had you situated--he might well be the type to slap the attitude off your face, gentlemanly facade be damned. He could do worse than a slap, too; far worse.

But the months had gone on with only pointed sighs and looks; and despite his rationally stated insistence that you would give in to his attentions in time, you held onto your bitterness as tightly as you could. You prized yourself on it, the way you figure that he prizes his most precious steals.

He sometimes comes back with glittering jewels worth calculable fortunes, laying them out to see the way they look when the moonlight filters in through the open curtains. He doesn’t keep them for long, doesn’t display them, just memorizes their magnificence and then whisks them off.

You can relate to the gloating. But you don’t give your greatest treasures away. You, on the other hand, wear your bitterness 24/7 like an old woman clinging to her last precious mink coat, a remnant of an era gone-by. Draped over your shoulder, haughty and visible, daring him to say something when you give him a sarcastic jab in response to perfectly-polite-inquiries about this and that. The worst (but best, you think, to you) is when you feign interest in a conversation, feign some sort of acceptance of your situation, willing your hands to get closer to his as you sit on the sofa and read; only to snap back at the last moment, baring your teeth.

You hope it hurts him, to think he’s getting an inch forward with you only to have it pulled away. He deserves it for keeping you here.

Sometimes, you almost hope he would say something, do something, only because it might be a sort of reprieve. If he gets mad or slaps you, even, maybe the solid, sticky bitterness surrounding your heart might abate just a bit.

Then again, you know this saying very well: be careful what you wish for.

“I need to see if it fits.” His expression and tone haven’t changed. Polite, cordial, matter-of-fact. You hate it.

You force yourself out of bed and give the gown a glance before heading into the bathroom. He follows, picking up his own morning routine as you wash and brush side-by-side. You think he does it to seem domestic, in his own fucked-up way. You pointed this out, once, and he’d merely given you a small smile and asked: “Do you want to this to be domestic?”

Chrollo had a habit of turning your impulsive snark around on you, so you tried to plan your barbs out more carefully in the future.

“Why do you need to see if it fits?” You finally ask, words a bit muffled by the toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You force yourself to glance at him in the mirror. He’s finished, already drying off his face, pinning a wrap around his forehead.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, and you feel too caught to look away.

“For tonight. We’re going to the theater.”

The toothbrush drops from your mouth and lands next to the sink, splattering lathered toothpaste on the counter. You wipe your mouth with a washcloth, missing a bit and not caring, and physically turn away from the mirror so you’re face-to-face.

“Are you serious?”

For the moment, your bitterness slides off, forgotten on the floor. He’s never offered to do something like this before. Sure, he’s mentioned that you might go out--”it depends on your behavior”--but the thought of “being good” for Chrollo made you sick to your stomach every time you were tempted. So you hadn’t been outside for months, not really--the brief gaps when he’d whisk you into a car, always by his side, then pull you into a new hotel or luxury condo didn’t really count.

He nods.

“Yes. Please do hurry and try it on, I’ll need time to find another if it isn’t suitable.”

You glance out of the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, where the gown sits, draped, shimmering softly in the morning light. It’s something you never would have been able to afford before--and the thought of wearing it now makes your skin tingle. What is his plan? Why is he doing this?

“But I haven’t been good,” you say, almost spitting out the last word. Last night, in fact, you’d been almost beastly--you recall the words “go fuck yourself” and “I hate you” being thrown out before you twisted in the knife by bringing up an ex-fling.

He laughs, quick and harsh. It seems like a real laugh, for once, and something in your chest twists. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything truly authentic from him. Or yourself.

“Maybe it’s a reward for me, to have you by my side. You want to go, don’t you?”

The thought makes your stomach clench. But… you did want to go. Really. To get out of here, even for a night? To get sucked into some type of show, whatever it was? You didn’t entertain the idea of trying to escape or draw attention to yourself for help--you knew Chrollo would never suggest taking you if it was a viable option. He was just as likely to slaughter the entire theater if you whispered to an usher that you were being held captive.

No, no escape in the cards… at least not physically.

You shrug your shoulders and try to seem nonchalant about it, though you’re sure he can feel the way your skin is buzzing.

“Sure, whatever. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

He laughs, again. It’s blatantly false this time.

***

It has been… a while since you’ve done your makeup. The pile of messy makeup wipes on the counter can attest to that--this is now your third try at a full face without messing something up. Thankfully, the third time has been the charm, and you’re satisfied with the reflection in the mirror. Chrollo had turned up your old makeup bag, and sliding on the eyeliner you used to wear to work, out with friends, in your old life felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

You’ve even done your hair, though it could be nicer. You haven’t bothered with anything but hasty brushing in the past few months, and sometimes you’re too lethargic and frustrated to even bother with that. But it’s styled, a bit elegant--if you do say so yourself.

You glance down at the trio of lipsticks he set on the counter earlier. They’re not a brand you ever wore--they’re expensive, something out of reach for anyone used to pulling cheap store lipsticks out of a bin. The center lipstick is a bold red, and your hand reaches for it. Brief memories of your mother gushing about red lipstick come to mind; she always associated red lipstick with elegance, the fanciest of events, and you’re inclined to agree. It feels smooth, impossibly so; praise be to expensive formulas.

After blotting it with toilet paper--old habits--you step back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The dress fits you beautifully. The fabric is soft, refined, showing you off in all the right places. You’ve taken your time with your hair, your makeup, and you really do look nice. You bring your wrist up to your nose and sniff--the perfume Chrollo had picked out for you was elegant, subtle. Rose petals and apples and white musk.

You feel a wave of nostalgia come over you that you push down. It’s too bad you’re going to the theater with your captor and not with your friends. Or your mom.

“Are you finished?” His voice calls from the bedroom.

The thought of Chrollo seeing you like this makes you feel uncomfortably anxious for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. The gown is not exactly risque, but it’s designed to highlight your features--and while he has never crossed the hardest line in regards to your personal autonomy, he wasn’t beyond stealing kisses from your unwilling lips when the mood struck him. He said it was to help you adjust to the relationship, as if kissing you against your will would make you love him.

You don’t answer him and instead give your hair a final touch up before heading out the open bathroom door.

Chrollo is standing next to the vanity, wearing an elegant suit, primped and polished--and handsome. You can’t help but freeze in place when he gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate.

“You look beautiful,” he says, finally, a slight breathiness to his voice. There’s an authentic tone to his voice again, and it makes you feel queasy.

You try to ignore the way your skin feels heated and shrug, crossing your arms over your chest as you approach him.

“Are we going now?”

He gives a soft smile. “Almost. One more thing.”

You watch curiously as he pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket, then opens it to reveal two glittering sapphire earrings. You can’t hold back a little gasp, but when you reach for them, Chrollo holds the box out of reach.

“I’ll do the honors.”

You want to say no. But you’re so close to leaving, so you simply stare to the side as he steps behind you. He touches your ear--and you flinch. He chuckles quietly and you ignore the blossoming heat across your cheeks, both from his closeness and your reaction, while he fixes the earrings into your ears.

When he’s finished, you look up. The visage in the mirror seems like a familiar stranger. The feeling you get at seeing yourself so dressed up is familiar in some way. You think back to going to shows with your friends, or going to the ballet with your mom; your little ring-clad hand gripping hers as she hurried you past alleys on the way to the theater, your sparkling white party dress shedding glitter onto the streets. You can practically feel the way the theater always hums with anticipation, the unusual heaviness of feeling alone in a crowded room as your friends left you with the tickets while they grabbed a drink or two.

The sight of Chrollo behind you in the mirror, watching you with clear intent, breaks you away.

“We’re leaving now.”

***

“I… actually really like The Sleeping Beauty ballet.”

You feel awkward. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been in a car with Chrollo, whether your forcibly pressed against him in the back seat or in the front, blasting the radio in an attempt to prevent him from striking up a conversation as he drives you to some new destination.

But it’s the first time you’ve been in the car for reasons other than transporting you to a new ‘home.’ The first time that you’ve both been dressed up; Chrollo’s cologne wafts gently over to you, and you can’t deny that he knows how to pick a good scent.

It’s also the first time you’ve felt conversation to be a necessity, if only to find out where you were going (the opera house) and what you were seeing (a ballet).

In fact, the news of the performance makes you sit up straighter in your seat. You feel a ping of excitement, and without thinking you share it out loud.

“That’s actually the first ballet I ever saw with my mom. Do you know what company it is?”

He tells you, and you bite your lip anxiously, squaring your shoulders against the back of the seat as you start to imagine the night ahead. Then you remember the smooth red lipstick and force your mouth to relax.

You talk, instead, to keep yourself from ruining your lipstick with your nervous habit. “I’ve heard about this company’s version. Well,” you continue, “I wanted to see them perform this a few years ago, but tickets sold out so fast. I couldn’t afford the scalper prices.”

“How nice that I have tickets for this performance, then.”

“Right!” Your pitch is higher and you internally cringe. You shouldn’t sound so excited. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems focused on the road.

As the drive continues, you keep talking. Without realizing it, your voice becomes lighter, easier, and even you don’t know why you’re speaking so freely. You talk more to him on this stretch of road than you have within months, sarcastic replies and bitter responses notwithstanding.

You talk about ballet. You talk about the history of the show. You talk about this company’s costumes--you saw them displayed in a store window and wow, were they gorgeous--and as the words come out, you feel lighter. Less bogged down by your protective anger, less heavy and hateful.

Happiness.

It’s something that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling that your stomach rebels against, not welcoming the sudden intrusion of lightness and lift while you’re sitting in a car next to your captor. But you push your stomach’s rebellious nature down and force yourself to remember that tonight, you get to escape onto the stage; for a little while, you can be somewhere else.

Even being in the car tonight is doing wonders for you, you think. You must be getting close--the lights of the city are brighter and there’s throngs of nicely dressed people walking down the street towards what you realize is the theater. You see a little girl holding a woman’s hand and your stomach clenches in bitter nostalgia, but the thought is pushed aside quickly enough when Chrollo pulls into a valet circle.

You don’t have time to open the door before he opens it for you, extending his arm like a gentlemen.

“Ready?”

You’re buzzing on the way home. Not just from the champagne--three glasses, Chrollo having subtly waved away the usher approaching your opera box with your requested fourth. Not just from the show, which was magical and lush and everything you hoped it would be. Not just from the fact that you had a night out, away from the stuffiness of whatever luxury suite you were trapped in.

But from the thrill of feeling something, anything, other than your own deep despair and bitterness. You laughed in delight at the sillier moments, the bright-yellow Canary fairy and her trills; you cried at Aurora’s pleading vision to be set free, the first time you’ve cried at something other than your own situation in ages; you clapped and even, in the end, let yourself shout out a cheery “Brava!”

Even Chrollo seemed different during the evening. No forcible hand-holding or other niceties that had given you anxiety earlier in the evening. No unbearable condescension, only the hint of a smirk during the intermission when you--instinctively, you insisted to yourself, not because you liked his company--began an excited conversation about the events of the first Act. Did he like this part? What about the orchestra? And oh, this variation, didn’t he think it was a bit too overdone on the part of the dancer, but she more than recovered by the end?

When Chrollo helps you out of the car into the private parking garage, the air is cool and crackling; everything still feels electric, the way it always does when you come home from an event. Though as the doorman opens the private elevator leading to the condominium above, you dimly remind yourself you’re not coming home, exactly.

The swift ride up the elevator leaves you feeling dizzy. Your mind feels like it’s crashing, suddenly. From the champagne, maybe--but something else, too.

The elevator doors open into the condo suite you share with Chrollo and it hits you as you take the first step inside: you’re back to where you started the night. Trapped. The transporting, glittering events of the evening fall off your shoulders like a worn coat; you’re left once again only with yourself, with your present situation--and with Chrollo.

Your cheeks feel hot and you know the tears are coming before you feel them prickle at your eyes. The urge to wipe them away is masked only by the remembrance that you’re wearing makeup, but that doesn’t stop it from running as they begin to flow down your cheeks.

It burns, and you start for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing your face and ripping off the dress--but your entire body jerks back as Chrollo grabs your arm and prevents you from taking another step.

“Let go,” you say, voice empty of anything but the desperate need to be in the bathroom, to clean your face, to be alone with your returning misery.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you back, forcing you to stand up straight as you fruitlessly fight against his grip.

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you murmur, voice edged not with bitterness this time, but sorrow. You don’t want to look at him. He’s seen you cry countless times, but you hate the way he looks at you when you do.

“Tell me why.”

You finally force yourself to look up at him, eyes blinking away the stinging tears, and you’re not surprised by his intensive gaze. He’s studying you. Analyzing. Like you’re some sort of book he can read and discover.

Maybe the champagne has loosened your tongue; maybe the night itself has loosened the tight-lipped hold your bitterness has on you. Whatever it is, you confess.

“I was happy,” you say, voice wobbling with tears. “I was--happy on the way there. I was happy at the theater. I was happy on the way home. I--I haven’t…” you rub at your eyes, smearing eyeshadow onto your fingertips. “I haven’t felt that way in months. And now we’re back and I don’t feel it anymore.” Your voice finally cracks with your last words, and you cover your eyes with one hand as crushing feelings of sadness sweep over you.

He pulls you closer to him, and you can’t fight away from his physical strength.

“Let go,” you plead. “I just want to be alone.”

You jerk your face away when he strokes your cheek with his free hand.

“Alone? Whatever for? My hypothesis for tonight was correct.”

His words make you stop pulling. Hypothesis? You sniffle and try to get your bearings, try to brace yourself. But you’re tired, and sad, and your head is swimming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He places his free hand on the back of your head and leans in closer. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his grip makes a flushed warmth bloom across your skin.

“You see,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the side of your ear. “You can be happy with me, after all.”

#yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere #afterwitch writes

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anenbylittlepotato · 4 years ago

Note

mc asking the demon bros to do the pocky challenge with them? :o

Ooh, I really like this idea!

The Bros Reacting to MC Asking to Do the Pocky Challenge with Them

The Dateables Here

You go up to this brother and hold up a box of Pocky, asking them to do the Pocky challenge with you. Though you might have to explain what it is, depending on the brother, as not all of them are caught up on human culture.

Lucifer

You'll definitely have to explain it to him because he has no idea what you're talking about-

When you do explain it, he'll blink, taken aback which is pretty rare for him.

There's also a hint of a blush on his cheeks. Quick take a pic before it goes away!

But once he composes himself, he gets that iconic and infuriating smirk across his face.

He'll gladly accept. Any chance to be close to you like that is good for him.

He waits patiently for to put the stick in your mouth before placing his hand on the wall behind you and gently taking up his end. Then you begin.

He's... Surprisingly good at this??? He's obviously never done it before, but he's really good at not letting the pocky fall. And he's super steady too, so it's not hard to keep up. Honestly, he's doing most of the work.

And at the end when your lips meet, he holds the kiss, his hands moving to your waist.

Then he pulls away and smirks at you.

"Well, that's quite an intimate little game of yours. But don't you think that's quite a roundabout way of getting a kiss? You could have just asked, you know."

Mammon

You'll probably have to explain it to him too. He may enjoy going down to the human world a lot, but that's mostly to make money. He doesn't pay much attention to their trends.

When you do explain, his entire face turns red and he becomes a flustered mess. Just what are you trying to DO to him, human???

At first, he'll refuse, too embarrassed to even try.

But as he watches you start to walk away, he immediately changes his mind. Wait come back- he'll do it! He doesn't want you doing it with anyone else!

He fidgets nervously as he waits for you to put the stick in your mouth. Once it's there, he puts his hands on your shoulders and takes up his end.

The opposite of Lucifer, he's really bad at it. Like, really, really bad. He's trembling and shaking too much to do it properly and he keeps going too fast. Safe to say you two drop it several times and have to restart.

But when you finally get it and your lips meet, he'll definitely hold it. Actually, he might not wanna let you go at that point.

You have to pull away eventually to breathe.

"Heh. Well... I guess that wasn't so bad. We should do that again some time. But ya kept messin' us up! Ya didn't move fast enough. Good thing it was the GREAT Mammon you were doin' it with, or else you never woulda gotten it right!"

Leviathan

He needs no explanation, he is fluent in human trends.

When you ask, though, his face is immediately bright red and he becomes a spluttering, flustered mess. Are you TRYING to give him a heart attack, MC? Seriously, his little otaku heart can't handle you just blatantly asking things like that...! And why would you wanna do such an intimate game with a gross, yucky otaku like him anyway?

He'll have to take a minute to calm his breathing, but he'll eventually accept. This trend is used far too much in anime and anime fandoms for it to be considered normie. Actually, he's always wanted to try this trend with someone! But Henry can't exactly play the Pocky game with him...

He waits nervously as you put the stick in your mouth, his face still glowing bright red. When you're done, he gently grabs your hands, mostly for comfort, and takes up his end.

He's also pretty bad at it, but not nearly as bad as Mammon. At least he learns from his mistakes. In the first attempt, he goes much too fast and you end up dropping it. So next time he forces himself to go slower. But he's still trembling far too much and you still end up dropping it a few more times before he finally manages to quell his trembling enough for it to work.

When your lips finally meet at the end, he'll hold it for just a few moments. It'll be a sweet and tender kiss.

And when you pull away, you'll find his face is still flushed, but less, and now there's a small smile on his face.

"W-wow! I've always wanted to try that game...! It's just like that one episode of The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl!"

Satan

With how much he reads about the human world he's bound to have come across something about it. So honestly? He probably won't need much of an explanation.

When you ask him about it, his eyes will widen slightly, his cheek flushing. He'll close his eyes and shake his head, muttering something about how you somehow know exactly how to get him flustered.

But it's not like he'll refuse! No, no, quite the contrary, he accepts, rather eagerly, in fact.

He watches as you carefully place the stick into your mouth. When you're done, he gently places his hands on your waist and takes his end.

He's also surprisingly good at this. Not quite as good as Lucifer, but he's still good enough to keep it from falling. And good enough that he's doing most of the work.

When your lips meet at the end, his arms slide around the small of your back and he holds you in a brief, but passionate kiss.

When he pulls away, he smiles at you softly, his cheeks still just slightly flushed.

"Well, that was certainly an interesting game. Maybe just ask next time you want a kiss though."

Asmodeus

This man knows all forms of intimacy, you think he wouldn't know the pocky game? Honestly, he's probably had some people ask to play it with him before you.

As soon as you ask, he's smirking, now being all flirty. Ooh, you want to be all intimate with him, do you~? Of course, you do! Everyone wants a taste of his gorgeous face and body~!

He accepts without hesitation. He's more than eager to share an intimate moment with his favorite person in all three worlds! Other than himself, of course ;)

He's practically trembling with excitement as he waits for you to put the stick in your mouth. Once you do, he puts his hands on your waist as he takes up his end, his hands trying to wander a bit too far below... Keep it family-friendly, mister!

When you start, he isn't the greatest because he keeps trying to go too fast, a little too eager for the part at the end. So you drop it a few times, but he gets it eventually.

Once your lips meet, he pulls you as close to him as possible, running a hand through your hair as he holds the kiss.

When you pull away, he gives you a suggestive smirk.

"We should do more intimate little games like that together. I'd just love to get even closer to you~"

Beelzebub

He definitely needs an explanation, he doesn't keep up with human world trends, only their food.

When you do, he blinks, his cheeks flushing slightly. Though, honestly, you had him at food. He's never had Pocky before. But are you sure asking him, of all people, was a good idea...? He's already tried to eat the whole box of Pocky, box included, twice now.

You have to hold him back from immediately helping himself to the Pocky stick as soon as you take it out of the box and it takes you a lot longer than it should just to get it in your mouth. When you finally do, he eagerly takes up his end, his hands clamping on your arms.

He doesn't even give you a chance to prepare before he starts munching. He definitely sucks at this game, mainly because he's trying harder to eat the Pocky than actually play the game, so you end up dropping it several times, and every time he just picks up the dropped bits and chows down.

When you finally manage to get it somehow, he nearly bites your lips off at first, but he quickly calms down, and it quickly turns into a sweet and tender kiss.

When he pulls away and smiles that smile that makes it hard for you to be mad at him because he looks like a happy puppy.

"That Pocky sure was tasty. And your lips are so soft..."

Belphegor

He needs an explanation too because he stopped keeping up with human world trends after the Fall.... Which was thousands of years before Pocky was even invented.

Once you explain, his cheeks flush a little bit, but he smirks anyway and teases you about it. Cheeky bastard-

He agrees and waits, still smirking, as you put the stick in your mouth. His hands gently meet the sides of your neck as he takes up his end of the stick.

He's actually okay at it, given he's too lazy to go too quickly, and he's relatively steady. Though you do still drop it once or twice because he goes... A little too slow.

When your lips finally meet, his hands slide up from your neck to cup your cheeks as he kisses you rather passionately.

Soon he pulls away and gives you a lazy grin.

"That was pretty fun, MC, but it was a pretty dumb way to get a kiss. You should have just done it."

I really loved that idea and that was really fun to write. I definitely wanna do more with the side dateables, but for now, I'm gonna go eat, take a shower, then try to find the case to my earbuds that I lost last night.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me shall we date #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me headcanons #obey me writing

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

Text

It Takes Two To Tango

Summary: Stuck in a failing marriage where both you and your husband are having affairs, you enjoy another night with the man that you literally bumped into at the Saloon.

Pairing: Javier Escuella x f!Reader

Word Count: 2227

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Cheating/Affairs, Degrading, Humiliation, Praise, Squirting, Cum eating, Creampies, Face slapping, Knife kink, Choking, Smut without a plot.

Notes: I had RDR1 Javier in mind for this seeing as he's low honour, and the dialogue/actions in this are very low honour Javier based, buuuuut you're welcome to picture any Javier you want <3

To put things politely, you hate your husband. When you two first met, he was sweet, kind, wonderful, everything you'd expect in a partner; the first few years of your marriage were flawless, but something within him changed, and he began spiralling off the rails, crashing into the man that he is today.

A divorce is hard to come by, especially in this time. However, you two seem to have somewhat of an unspoken agreement that you're no longer together. Well, you still share a house, still sleep in the same bed, still ask how each other's day went; but you know exactly where he goes to every night, leaving you all alone in your comfortable home, and sometimes, the nights can get so cold without anybody to hold.

The new man that keeps you warm every night bumped into you at a bar, quite literally, and apologized profusely, then offered to buy you a replacement drink. You happily accepted, taking an instant fancy to his mysterious yet welcoming aura, and spent the rest of the night blatantly flirting. You eventually asked him to help clean the liquor he'd spilt off you, and he did so by licking a stripe from your collar bone, along your neck, settling just below your ear. "It always tastes so much better when you know you shouldn't be doing it, eh?" he huskily whispered, and you agreed by grabbing his hand and pulling him across town, straight into your bed.

Javier knew who you were when he bumped into you, he knew you were a married woman, and he mentioned that he'd seen your husband spending his time with other women, so it's only fair you do the same, right? At first, you felt guilty, until that one night where your husband came home with obvious hickeys on his neck, and you got your own back by asking Javier to mark you ten times worse.

And yet again, Javier's now climbing up the same path to your balcony, swinging his leg over the railing, and finding his way into your bed once he watches your husband leave. You're practically starving every single day, desperate for a way out of this marriage, but even more desperate to spend time with your lover. It's crystal clear how much he enjoys playing this sinful game with you, and often reassures you during pillow talk that he's seen your husband do far worse. It's only a matter of time before the tower falls.

"Javier," you mutter, wrists tied to the bed posts, legs spread, and said man lapping away between them.

"Mhmm?" he hums, his mouth far too occupied as he continues wrapping his lips around your cunt.

"T-too much, come on," you beg.

"Not yet," he quickly blurts out, and returns to lapping at your clit, sliding two fingers into you and curling them perfectly. Thank the lord that you live on the outskirts of town with no attached neighbours; you can be as loud as you want, moaning to your hearts content as Javier mutters sweet praise against your lips. "Good girl," he mutters against your cunt, his fingers continuing to work you open.

"C-come on," you beg yet again, only this time you hear Javier chuckle against you.

"Alright," he sighs. Javier removes his fingers, and licks his lips as his head raises, meeting yours. "Always so impatient, aren't you?" he laughs, but he's also the one lining his cock up to your entrance, cutting your reply short as he slides in. "I don't blame you for being impatient, you know," Javier begins to mutter, jumping straight in to a quick pace. "You must be so deprived, all thanks to that shitty husband of yours. But I'm here now, I'm here to make sure you tire yourself out every night. If your husbands not going to use this pussy, then I might as well use it," Javier shrugs.

It's never slow and steady with Javier, always quick and heated, in a rush just in case your husband does come early, even on the nights where he doesn't come home at all. Your head is rolling back against the pillow, eyes falling shut, but Javier draws your attention back to him with a slap across your cheek. "Look at me when I'm fucking you," he orders, making your eyes go wide. "That's better."

Javier moves his hand to your throat, squeezing lightly between your jawline, enough to be pleasurable, but not enough to make your mind go hazy. "Open up," he orders, and your mouth falls open instantly, tongue sticking out. "That's a good girl," Javier praises, before dipping his head down and spitting directly into your mouth. "Swallow."

He's grinning as you swallow his spit, licking your lips afterward; your cheeks then begin turning red as Javier returns to choking you, a dark glisten in his eyes as he continues to pound you, thrusting into you like his life depends on it. "I fuck you good, don't I?" he asks.

"Uh-huh," you manage to sigh, nodding your head at the same time.

"Then why do you keep closing your eyes, hm? I want you to look at me whilst I'm fucking you," Javier barks, and lands another slap across your cheek. Instead of wrapping his hand around your neck, he places his fingertips on either side of your cheeks, squishing them slightly together and ordering you to order your mouth once more. You watch as he spits into your mouth again, but much slower this time, letting his spit drool off his tongue, slowly into your mouth, before dipping his head down and sealing the deal with a hungry kiss.

"Good girl," he praises again, his lips still pressed against yours. Javier's thrusts come to a halt, his cock sheathed deep inside you, and he props himself upright with a somewhat serious look on his face. "Are you going to let me do it tonight?" he questions, and you know exactly what he's on about.

"Yeah," you nod. You go to reach out, but you're quickly reminded about your wrists being tied to the bed posts, as if you've somehow forgotten.

"I guess you could say this is a punishment, huh?" Javier asks as he shifts his weight over to the edge of the bed, reaching down to pick up his gun belt, his cock still inside you. "I mean, naughty girls like you deserve to be roughed up," he continues, unsheathing his knife and twiddling it between his fingers. "Of course, I'm not going to hurt you, but I suggest you be a good girl and stay still," he smirks.

Javier's knife disappears from your sight, only for the cool metal to be pressed against your throat. The blade is barely touching your skin, hovering over you. However, it's close enough to send a chill down your spine, one that you attempt to contain in fear of the blade making contact with your throat. Javier picks up his pace again, starting with slow thrusts, ensuring the knife is at an angle where it's not going to hurt you. For a man who you met at the Saloon, you trust him, not just with keeping your affair a secret, but with hot and heavy situations like this.

"I'd say hold still, but I've already made sure you'll hold still," he laughs, gesturing with his blade to your bound wrists.

Within time, the roll to Javier's hips becomes quicker, his eyes flicking from yours to the knife at your throat. You know by now not to close your eyes, no matter how many times he hits those perfect spots inside you, your body urging to let your eyes fall shut as your head rolls back.

Javier moves the blade across your skin, trailing up your neck and jawline, and presses the flat part to your cheek. He urges you to tilt your head, and keeps the blade there as his lips meet your neck, marking you loud proud, clear enough for your husband to notice, not that he hasn't before.

"How many do you think I can leave before he says something?" Javier comments, chuckling between kisses.

"Javier, not whilst we're fucking," you sigh. The last person you want to think about right now is your husband, and Javier replies with a laugh, moving his head back up, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright, alright," he replies. "Say, could you hold this for me? I need both my hands free if I'm going to fill you up."

Before you can verbally accept, Javier's already pressing his knife against your mouth; he's kind enough to slip the handle into your mouth, rather than the blade. Instead, the blade tickles your cheek, pointing to your side, whilst your lips are wrapped around the handle.

"That's very kind of you," Javier laughs. He wraps his hands around your thighs, pulling them up to his waist, and puts all his focus into chasing his orgasm, using you like some kind of cheap street whore, not that you mind.

This time, Javier is the one to close his eyes, his breaths becoming quick and short as he slams down into you. You're a whimpering mess, most of your moans muffled by his knife, but he soaks up every noise you make like sweet music to his ears.

"Shit-" Javier grunts, his cock coming to a halt inside you as he fills you up; you can feel his cock twitching, complimented by the heavy moans Javier's letting out. There's a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead, which he accidentally presses to your shoulder as he rests against it, catching his breath as he comes down from his high. "Your turn," Javier softly mutters.

He slips out of you, and shuffles to rest beside you, propping himself up on his elbow. Javier's other hand goes straight to work, not wanting to leave you empty for too long; he slips two fingers inside you, accidentally pushing out some of his load, the white mess oozing out of your cunt. Javier's fingers curl, and he begins moving his wrist, hitting that spot inside you at a vibrating speed.

You let out a cry, muffled by the handle still locked between your lips. Javier smirks at your reaction, but he doesn't let up, keeping his pace fast, eager to see how quickly he can make you cum. As always, your body begins to shake, uncontrollably squirming in Javier's grasp. He's letting out sweet words of praise, "good girl," and "that's it, soak the bed for me."

"Javier, I-"

"What?" he questions, his fingers not losing their pace.

"We'll make a mess!"

"Not we, you. You'll make a mess," Javier chuckles. "And what's wrong with a little mess, huh? just make your husband sleep on the damp side."

For some unknown reason, Javier's comment catches you off guard; maybe it's the way he whispered it directly into your ear, or the thought of letting your husband suffer whilst you sleep peacefully, but either way, your orgasm hits like a train.

"That's it," Javier cheers, watching in awe as you squirt. He doesn't let up, his fingers still hitting that spot inside you, his palm brushing against your clit with every flick of his wrist.

Javier's milking you, and it's rapidly becoming too much, only you're still bound to the bed, unable to push him off, and the knife handle in your mouth is keeping you from calling out your protests. He's smart, Javier knows exactly what he's doing, or what he's done.

But eventually, you run dry, your body still shaking from an intense and drawn out orgasm. "That's my good girl," Javier praises, placing a kiss to your temple as he pulls his fingers from you. Javier sits up on his knees, using his dry hand to remove the knife and places it on your bedside table. "Here. Open. Clean me up," Javier orders.

Javier presents his fingers, and like the well trained slut that you are, you open your mouth, allowing him to slip his fingers inside. The taste is exactly what you'd expect, a mixture of squirt and cum, but you let your eyes shut as you clean his fingers, licking them dry, enjoying the soft moans and sighs he lets out as he watches in lustful amazement.

You're just about finished when you hear the front door slam. Javier and you share a look of pure horror, his fingers still between your lips, both of your eyes wide and visibly nervous. Javier quickly pulls his fingers from your mouth, rushing to grab his knife and cut you free from your binds, with caution.

As soon as you're free, there's a mad rush, both of you hurrying to pull your clothes on, followed by dumping all of your bedding into the laundry basket. There's almost no time for a kiss goodbye, but you manage to fit one in, sharing the taste of your regular encounter before Javier scurries out onto your balcony and hops the railing, disappearing into the night.

Thankfully, your husband doesn't trail upstairs straight away, giving you enough time to organize your laundry properly and put some fresh bedding on. And by the time he does, you're already sound asleep, worn out from yet another illicit encounter.

Isn't it about time you start looking into your divorce?

#rdrwriting #it takes two to tango #smut #nsft #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella x female reader #f!reader #female reader #rdr2 #rdr1 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #cheating #affair

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basedkikuenjoyer · 2 years ago

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Time was meaningless before, now I feel obligated to play with the order of this one. 1060 is a banger and I’ll say this first off. From the start when I raised the idea of a twist around Kiku/Yamato, I did say I could see it being the right logic but a setup for say, Vivi. Hancock last chapter seemed like another good outlet than can sorta straddle that thematic line. Bonney? Holy shit never even considered her but she’s perfect! If I had the rough idea but the answer was Bonney having a big role like Law/Bege for a bit? Love it, watch where she flips and seems inconsistent or two-faced. That said...if you made it with me this far:

🎶 Bonney, Bonney. Bonney...BOOOOOOONNNEEEYYYYYYY!!!! I’m beggin Oda please go with this plan. 🎶

Think about it, think about it, think about it. This is stupidly easy and it’s a perfect mirror to how we were meeting Kin in the first place. What role have I spun for Kiku as a new recruit? A big sister, nanny type Quartermaster. So what’s a great, borderline hackneyed trope plot for showing the virtue of such a character? I dunno, some kinda magic power turns all the crew into kids? Who cares about the specifics the concept is 24kt, surgical-grade gold. Know why? Returning the Favor for Kin’emon! Supernova tags the crew with a silly power that can really fuck em over and yes...if Luffy and Chopper (our Udon crew) get sucked out into a side story I 100% can see a nice establishing encounter out of Kiku & Bonney. Luffy can topple some local tyrant or whatever.

As perfect of an out as Bonney is for the themes, she’s also a great step forward for what I’ve been talking about. Mixed up time girls, winter island means kiddie Straw Hats will know what starving on the streets of Ringo felt like, them being hampered but not quite incapacitated is the perfect spotlight for a new Jill-of-All-Trades. Bonney’s own time abilities are perfect for unpacking our skewed Wano time.

Well hey! It’s that scene we talked about. You know, the one where if we kept showing it we’d see Luffy explain how Ace doesn’t like to show weakness. This is one of Fallensnowfan’s and it took me a sec, but honestly yeah seasickness could be a fun excuse. The idea is if Yamato built that much of a bond Kiku could easily be in Usopp territory and socially graceful enough it didn’t need to be spelled out. It could have been agreed to before the Raid even! The hook is keeping it subtle, but she did slip in “Torao-san” at the halfway mark. The big moments have happened, we need to sort out our time oddities though through the reveal. Playing with character knowledge and reader knowledge.

Chronic seasickness is a bomb gag for her no one else has, plays nice with this quirk she shares with Ace and is perfect for our timing needs. If she’s just seasick there’s no reason to worry or blab a lot about her, you’d just be adding shame to illness. Also a callback to Kin’s stomach issues in Act 1 and would work with the potential 1058 cameo. Just saying, perfect excuse to keep her out of sight and free from the initial setup if we’re doing kiddie Strawhats.

Then there’s this classic gag we had let’s see...right before Robin joined. With oh a t/n...probably something like “keikaku means plan.” No, wait, is it? It’s that pun I was waiting all Act 2 for! Big Mom & the Big Mum, featuring Chopper, Tama, & Momo. But well, it is a callback for Vivi too.

Robin, you’re about as blatantly taunting me as Law was about not needing to be a hyena to sniff out a mystery like who’s absent from the party. I love you. Oh yeah, and Caribou. Like...we know they shoved his evil ass in that barrel and chained it. Just the fact we never saw that though is weird. Okay, but one last big one I’m kicking myself from scrubbing off of last week’s post. Last time I ever worry about being too long-winded.

The hidden dream. Forget what it is for now, just the fact Luffy has a hidden dream he keeps to himself because people tend to laugh and it seems impossible anyways. Gee, who on Wano might be able to relate to something like that? Kiku doesn’t need a complex dream, hers is obvious and fate defying but she’s too guarded to easily cough it up. Oden/Kin callously laughed, Izo snipped at her, overheard people making fun of her, group of girls excluded her. Doesn’t have to be much. The fun is in the dramatic irony we know it’s something that can be sorted out easily by the time we meet her. No sense in saying anything until you actually meet up with Iva anyways. It be cruel to dangle that and not be able to deliver.

Just saying...I can certainly live with Bonney being the focal point for where all this was headed. That would be awesome to me actually because Jewelry Bonney is a riot! But it’s the same thing I always thought about Vivi. You’re someone we know was kinda spur of the moment by Oda’s own admission. Kiku goes even deeper in his history even if we meet her later.

#one piece #chapter 1060 #jewelry mutha fuckin bonney #op spoilers #op 1060 #Post-Wano Musings

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firehouseonechicago · 4 years ago

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Five Times He Almost Kissed You, The One Time He Did || Kelly Severide

Author’s Note: Kelly was super fun to write for. I had one hundred scenarios in my head that I struggled to choose from, but I eventually had to choose one and so here we are. I hope you enjoy, next up is Herrmann. Gif by @baharsahins

One...

You had only been with Squad 3 for only a few months, and during that time, Kelly had never seen you panic. The two of you might had gotten off on the wrong foot when the two of you first met, but he couldn’t help but admire the way you always kept a level-head during calls, even the very, very stressful ones. You were practically a becon of calming energy, and Kelly couldn’t help but feel a little jealous at the fact that the rest of the squad relied on you to keep them calm and not their own Lieutenant.

But as the two of you became trapped in an apartment complex basement, with a broken water main slowly filling up the incredibly small and cramped space, Kelly watched you break. You pressed yourself as close to the wall as possible, cowering away from the water as it now reached your knees. You were panting frantically, your eyes darting every which way in search of a way out. Kelly called out to you, as you stared down at the water completely petrified. Kelly waded through the water towards you, the water now reaching his waist, and placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you to face him.

“Y/n, look at me!” He shouted, trying to be heard over the rushing water from above. When your eyes met his own, Kelly almost had to do a double take. Your eyes were bloodshot, laden with tears as you descended into a state of pure fear. Kelly tightened his hold on your shoulders “Y/n, focus on me okay? Don’t look at the water, look at me...” He insturcted, as your eyes glazed over with a look of bewilderment “Tell me something that no one else knows about you, something you’ve never told anyone”. He watched as your breathing somewhat steadied, your eyes becoming clearer as you swallowed thickly “I’m scared of drowning”. For a moment, Kelly was confused by your answer before you continued “When I was little my parents owned a lakehouse just a few hours away from the city. I fell in off the wharf and almost drowned, I’ve been terrified of water ever since”.

In that moment, a strange feeling to kiss you surged through Kelly. It was just an idea, to take your mind off of what was happening around you. It was nothing more than that. He didn’t want to see you like this, so scared, and so unlike your usual and bright self. The water had now risen to just below your shoulders, just as the collapsed ceiling above was removed to reveal the concerned faces of Boden, Casey, Herrmann and Mouch. Kelly smiled, turning his gaze back to your form as a relieved sob escaped you. After the two of you had been helped out of the basement, you enveloped Kelly in a tight embrace, whispering a shaky ‘thank you’ over and over again. And he held onto you, assuring you that you were safe.

Two...

Molly’s was very busy that night, and so Kelly kept to himself in one of the booths in the very corner of the room.

There were a lot of faces he didn’t recognise, but there was one that he couldn’t take his eyes off. You stood at the bar, a bright smile on your face as you spoke with Herrmann. Your eyes sparkled, he’d never seen you smile like that before. You just looked so happy. He must have been staring, because he hadn’t noticed that you had suddenly moved into the seat across from him. “Hey, you look a little spaced out. You okay?” You asked quietly, tilting your head to the side in wait for his answer.

Shaking himself from his stupor, Kelly nodded slowly “Yeah I’m good, it’s just been a bit of a rough day that’s all” He replied, his gaze flickering between the half empty beer bottle in his grasp and your form before him. You nodded in agreement, releasing a small hum as you gave him a grin “Tell me about it, the last call wasn’t exactly easy. Especially since we had a run-in with one of the guys we rescued”

Kelly laughed, shaking his head at the memory. There was no explaination as to why he had gotten violent, but he had shoved you quite harshly and pinned you against the side of Truck 81. If Kelly hadn’t stepped in, and hauled that guy away from you with much greater force, the situation would have likely become more complicated. “I wanted to thank you, for what you did today. And I also wanted to say thank you for...for not telling anyone about what happened in that basement a few weeks ago” You whispered shyly, biting your lip somewhat anxiously in embarrassment. Kelly grinned in response, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. After that incident, you and Kelly had gotten closer. He began to confide in you, and talk to you more often. “It’s not my place to tell anybody...” He replied, leaning forward in his seat “but you do have to overcome that fear. If you want to stay on squad you have to-”

“I know, I’m working on it okay? I just...I just can’t...” You trailed off, sighing heavily as your shoulders slumped, your eyes glazing over as memories of the rising water no doubt consumed your mind. That strange feeling surged through him again, that same feeling that made him want to kiss you. He didn’t want to see you like this, completely distant and slightly trembling. It was so unlike you, so far from your usual happy self. And so Kelly leaned over across the table, and gently placed his hand atop yours “How about I help you out, I won’t tell another living soul that you are afraid of water, and I will do whatever I can to help you overcome that fear”.

The smile that appeared on your face caused Kelly’s heart to soar. Your eyes regained their sparkle, and the small laugh that escaped your lips made him feel all the more happier.

Three...

“I’ll have to pass”

“Oh come on Y/n...” Gabby whined, slumping down against the table with a loud groan “just go on one date with this guy please? He seems really into you and I think the two of you would be perfect for each other”. You shook your head, grimacing slightly as you shook your head in response. “I’m really sorry Gabby, but this guy has already sent me a hundred messages which are entirely inappropriate and I just don’t think I should go out with this guy. I know you’re trying to set me up with someone but I just...”

Kelly had tried to stop listening to your conversation hours ago, but he just couldn’t help eavesdropping. He had heard from certain people around the firehouse that Gabby was trying to get you to go on a date with a doctor she had briefly met on one of her trips to the hospital on a call. She had been trying for weeks to get you to go out with him, and every time you had refused. Just the thought of you going out with someone else other than him made Kelly feel incredibly jealous. It was no secret to a few people in the firehouse that Kelly had somehow developed feelings for you, they had suspected a short time after the two of you had been trapped in that flooded basement.

He watched on in silent anger as you once again rejected Gabby’s offer to date some guy she met at Molly’s. What he really wanted to do was to kiss you passionately and to kindly but politely shut Dawson up. You were the only person who seemed to understand him, who was always there for him no matter what tough situation was thrown his way. And so probably against his better judgement, Kelly stood up from his seat and awkwardly approached your table. He stopped short as your eyes quickly moved toward him, a kind smile forming on your face. “Kelly, thank god. How can I help you?” You asked in a slightly exasperated tone, though the joking demenour behind it shone through. His chest suddenly felt tight as a million thoughts raced through his mind. What if you said no? What would he do then? He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves as he spoke.

“I uh...I was wondering if you would like to um...maybe grab a drink at Molly’s sometime. With me, I was wondering if you would go with me to Molly’s for a-”

“Sure, I’d love to”

Kelly froze, his eyes widening in shock. It took him a moment to comprehend your response, but as soon as he realized that you had said yes, he suddenly felt ecstatic. He nodded excitedly in response, grinning childishly before walking away with a slight skip in his step. His happy demenour made you smile, whilst Gabby just gawked between you and Kelly’s retreating form as she tried to piece together what had just occured.

Four...

“I’m not getting in that pool”

“Why not, the water is lovely. And besides, you promised that you would work on getting over your fear of water”.

You knew that this was a bad idea, you weren’t even sure why you agreed to meet Kelly here in the first place. You hugged your arms close to your frame nervously as you watched Kelly wade through the water, your entire body trembling at the thought of submerging yourself completely beneath the water. Kelly approached the edge of the pool, looking up at you with his signature cheeky yet charming grin. “Come on, just hop in. I’ll be with you every step of the way” He spoke calmly, extending his hand out towards you in sincerity. Stubbournly, you shook your head and backed away from the pool’s edge “No, no way. I’m not getting in there-”

“Y/n if you don’t get over here I will get out and carry you in if I have to” Kelly stated blatantly, half hauling himself out of the pool with a raised eyebrow in emphasis to his words. You glared toward him “Is that a challenge, Severide?”

“That’s a promise, sweetheart”.

The way his voice darkened caused your cheeks to flush a bright pink, but knowing that Kelly would stay true to his word, you reluctantly shuffled over to the edge of the pool and sat down. Kelly grinned triumphantly, submerging himself under the water before resurfacing with a flick of his hair. You rolled your eyes as Kelly chuckled, wading through the water towards you before taking your hands in his own. “I hate you so much” You grumbled, trying so very hard to stop your hands from trembling. Huffing a laugh, Kelly tightened his grip around your hands comfortingly “No you don’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have agreed to go out on that date with me tomorrow night”.

After easing yourself into the water, you practically clung to the man before you as Kelly lead you through the water. Kelly took note of your close proximity, and suddenly found himself becoming increasingly nervous. Your face was just inches away from his own, the temptation to kiss you was becoming way too overwhelming. Yet he composed himself, and focused on the task at hand. It would take some time for you to get over your fear of water, but Kelly was willing to do whatever it took to help you. You were apart of his squad, not to mention the fact that he was deeply in love with you.

Five...

Kelly bounced his leg anxiously as he sat at the bar at Molly’s.

You were due to arrive for your date any second now, and for some unknown reason, Kelly Severide was more nervous than he had ever been in his life. He had never felt this nervous before, not even on call. He really wanted this date to go well.

“Would you calm down already?” Herrmann mused from behind the bar, staring at the man before him with a bewildered expression “I’m sure everything is going to be fine, you just need to take a breath, alright”. Kelly turned to face Herrmann with a long and heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he leaned forward against the bar. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous”.

“A little is an understatement my friend...” Herrmann teased, laughing mockingly just as the door to Molly’s opened. Kelly turned, half expecting to see Otis turn up for his shift behind the bar. But he was completely blown away at the sight of you. You wore a short black dress covered in a small red rose pattern, with a black leather jacket over your shoulders. Your hair was swept over your shoulder lazily, unlike at the firehouse when it had been thrown up into a messy ponytail. A cute messy ponytail. When your eyes met his from across the room, you smiled brightly and gave him a small wave as you approached. This was it, this was really happening. God, Kelly didn’t know what to do. You looked so beautiful, the breath was completely knocked out of him.

As you sat down on the seat beside him at the bar, the feeling of wanting to kiss you resurfaced. He was so unbelievably happy that you had agreed to this date, so unbelievably happy that you-

“Hello? Earth to Kelly Severide?” You suddenly interrupted, a teasing tone to your voice as you chuckled at the man before you. Brought back from his stupor, Kelly’s eyes remained frozen on your form. “You look gorgeous” he suddenly blurted, noting the bright redness that spontaniously covered your cheeks. You waved him off dismissively, ordering a light drink from Herrmann as you continued to talk to Kelly. The night was filled with flirtatious banter and the occasional longing glances. It was obvious to anyone that watched that there was obvious chemistry between the two of you, but neither of you cared if people were watching. You were both having fun, and that was all that mattered in that moment.

The one time he did...

“Do you think Shay would mind if I stayed the night? I think I’ve had a bit too much to drink” You mumbled somewhat sheepishly, as you trudged over from the kitchen into the living room where Kelly sat on the couch.

He chuckled, patting the cushion beside him for you to sit down. “Shay is staying over at some girl’s house tonight, so you can stay here as long as you want” He replied, allowing you to cuddle into his side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You hummed in content, snuggling further into him with a small giggle. “Okay good, I wasn’t planning on leaving anyway”.

“Then why ask?” Kelly scoffed, smiling down at you with an amused smile. You rolled your eyes lazily, looking up at him with a cheeky grin “Well I’ve been over enough times, and I haven’t spent the night here yet, so I thought maybe-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Kelly dipped down and captured your lips with his own. The kiss was gentle and passionate. Soft even, almost as if he was testing the waters a little. But as soon as you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, that was all Kelly needed as a sign to continue. Moving you into a more comfortable position, Kelly hovered above you as he intensified the kiss, before quickly pulling away from you with a teasing smirk. “What do you say we take this upstairs?” He asled quietly, gesturing with his eyes to the ceiling and his bedroom above. You mimicked his expression, somehow managing to slip out from beneath him with an excited laugh. “Gladly!” You called out, before racing up the staircase ahead of him, and leaving Kelly to chase after you with a loud amused laugh.

#kelly severide x reader #kelly severide #kelly severide imagine #chicago fire x reader #chicago fire #chicago fire imagine #taylor kinney

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on “Auntie Soka and Little Leia” now that I’ve actually got it posted:

Call it a director’s cut! The process of actually writing the thing, and also jokes made along the way. Link to the actual fic.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy for image descriptions, even the text screenshots. Might come back that later. Most of this was DMs with @atagotiak.

This was an entire thing before I even started writing:

Before I decided on ages and stuff Ahsoka, to Jango, who has had zero contact with Kaminoans: Okay I know I'm a Jedi kid so you hate me but this toddler is your clone from the future. Jango, tired: What the FUCK are you talking about. Rex, barely able to talk: Don't you dare leave me with him, Commander! Ahsoka: I'm not going to leave you I just--I'm so tired I'm so fucking tired I haven't slept in five days and someone tried to kidnap Leia two days ago I am so fucking tired I need help

Ben: [twenty years of depression followed by a 'now I'm safe' breakdown over the course of weeks] Sokari: [whatever the FUCK this mess is]

When Ahsoka mentions there only being three other Jedi at the time of her death, I was thinking Kanan, Yoda, and Obi-Wan (Leia told her about the latter two living past her). She's not counting anyone that received training after the Temple fell, and she didn’t know about Cal.

When Leia says “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

Depa: I'm no therapist but I diagnose you with "incredibly fucked up." Ahsoka: yeah, that’s fair

"Why did you pick Depa for--" She's pretty and I'm gay. Also because of the Kanan thing But mostly I'm gay "It's not a visual medi--" GAY

Empty of context beyond general post-fic AU: "Hey Sokari, we need to engage in psychological warfare against this individual and--" "I'm going to break into his office and leave a threatening note on his desk and leave no other sign that I was there. He'll see that his security is nothing and the only reason he isn't dead is because I'm too nice to kill him." "...okay, not what we were planning, but that works. Why is that your first choice?" "I really like breaking and entering, it's soothing." Ben just standing there with a bland smile like This Is Normal.

"We need someone to infiltrate a highly guarded facility in hostile territory." "So we're sending the Torrent kids?" [sigh] "We're sending the Torrent kids."

Rex and Sokari insist on both going by "Torrent" even though Rex could be a Fett. Jango really wants him to be a Fett. Rex has too many grudges to agree to being a Fett for... a while.

I really hope it's blatantly obvious that Ahsoka's not a reliable narrator for some things Ahsoka: Fett could care less if I died Jango: jfc even if you are older than me I can see you're fucked up. Drink your hot chocolate. Hells. She's got good reason to expect him to hate her as a Jedi! BUT. THAT IS NOT REFLECTIVE OF REALITY

We don’t get a lot of actual characterization for Jango, but the way I played him out here is he has never really parsed that Jedi are people before all this. It's a lot harder to treat them as a monolith when the traumatized former child soldier is having regular breakdowns in your shitty little kitchen

Fett: I respect you Ahsoka: No, don't do that

Ahsoka’s vigilantism is something that, in my mind, she's associating heavily with Zygerria and then the clones.

I figured that she never bothered to learn Quinlan’s teacher’s name but in the process of looking up some basic facts (whether he had a surname), I found that Wookiepedia was forced to give us a VERY wide range of possible death in Legends.

Please take a moment to imagine Quinlan's FACE when Ahsoka initially dismisses him. Quinlan has put a lot of effort into being rogueishly charming! It's very useful for his line of work! He knows to expect either irritation or a return flirtation when he acts like this with people his own age! Ahsoka is not flustered OR rolling her eyes and insulting him, she's just ignoring him and it's a bit of a blow to the ego

This just makes me really happy:

This was the initial comment I made, as a joke What if Maul is just. There. On one of the planets they make a pitstop at. What if Maul exists as the walking problem he is, but fifteen, and Ahsoka immediately tries to kick his ass and drag him back to Coruscant. I do not have room for this plot but What If

Despite not having room for this plot, I proceeded to write this plot.

Maul is kidnapped and it’s the best thing that ever happened to him HE'S FIFTEEN HE'S DUMB AS SHIT AND HAS A BAD ATTITUDE AND YEAH HE'S A DARKSIDER BUT HE'S FIFTEEN

Ahsoka: I sense... Maul [takes off sprinting] Rex: [immediately takes Jango's blaster and runs after her] Jango: Wait who Tholme: Who Quinlan: Who Jango: [looks at Leia] Leia: I don't know who that is either! Ahsoka, already wrestling a teenager to the ground: Oh no, you're a child, REX STUN HIM AND GRAB THE CUFFS, I'M SURE FETT OR THOLME HAS SOME

Fighting him isn't even legal, they have NO evidence of criminal wrongdoing, so first she needs to yell until he admits to something she can fight him about

Ahsoka: When I see Maul, it's on SIGHT Maul: WHO ARE YOU

Ahsoka: The Force didn't give me hands just to NOT throw them when I run into That Crafty Son Of A Bitch

Ben, when they arrive, after the tearful reunion: You... you brought Maul. Ahsoka: Well, yeah, he's fifteen and kinda dumb. I figured we could drag him here and force him into therapy, see what happens. Ben: I can't quite tell through the gag, but I think he's threatening to feed you your own spleen. Ahsoka: Lol, yeah.

Ben is absolutely on team "get Maul therapy" and will fight the Council on rehabilitating the baby Sith But also it's like. Here's your daughter! And your niece! And your daughter's QPP! Also your best friend, but baby, and his teacher, and the biological origin of a number of people you cared for deeply! AND ALSO THE GUY WHO SPENT LITERAL DECADES CRAVING YOUR DEATH, FOR SOME REASON

I just really want Ahsoka lovingly bullying Maul She gives him noogies and the horns don't protect him because girl has reinforced gloves

Maul's only allowed a low-power training saber and his fights with Sokari involve Much Taunting by her and Eventual Screaming by him, and everyone pops by to see: 1. Sokari doing the most absurd flips, for fun. 2. The bullshit that is ataru-shien reverse-grip jar'kai in the hands of someone who makes it work 3. What a Sith lightsaber form looks like 4. Just the general nonsense that is the way these two fight

Tia said “Wrt ridiculous flips. I'm remembering that time she beheaded four Kryst'ad at once.” and I just Rex brings up the quadruple beheading at one point to get someone to stop asking questions and the awkward, horrified silence almost makes him regret it. And then Sokari just snorts and makes a joke about how Rex once speared a slaver point-blank and everyone's just like hello??? "are you two okay" "no"

Maul absolutely starts crushing on Sokari after a 'sword under chin' moment and she's just very "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you're fifteen, bye" GO MAKE PUPPY EYES AT OBI-WAN OR SOMETHING

The crushes are the worst part of everything, really, she's an attractive young woman that can kick a lot of ass, and a lot of people are into that! Unfortunately, most of those people are a decade younger than she is, mentally, because all the people her actual age look at her and see a child on account of the 17yo body.

It’s almost a good thing she’s in no place mentally for a relationship.

I just want Ahsoka to wear beskar.... I think that would be Nice........

This AU is also what caused this post.

I'm deeply enamored by the idea that Ahsoka can win fights against "older" padawans pretty much unilaterally, even when they team up 2v1 And then she offers to fight 5v1 "But only if I have permission to fight dirty." Ben approves it, a horror show full of "I fought many wars and will scream in your face or kick you in the balls if that's what it takes" follows She wins. There are no permanent injuries, but her reputation certainly gets weirder. Nobody under the rank of Knight agrees to let her fight dirty again. She just lets that stand because, well, she's not actually a padawan, she's thirty-three.

I’m not going to write this but my brain was EVIL and suggested it:

IT WOULD BE REALLY SAD IDK maybe 9yo Anakin has nightmares about what's happening to baby Ahsoka because bullshit about time-traveling force bonds IDK ANYWAY he cries to Sokari about the nightmares and she's like "oh shit" and it's time to go rescue herself from motherfucker unlimited

It's either that or she's like, expecting to welcome mini-me aaaany day now, for like, several months, before she realizes Something Went Wrong. Anakin’s dreams could even start right as she’s starting to realize something’s off.

Obi-Wan has never had a padawan that doesn't at some point bite Even Luke will, when pushed

OH also once the twins get Baby's First Lightsaber (training sabers, not real kyber), Sokari begs to borrow them for a dumb joke and tells Rex to get on her shoulders for a "Grievous Greeting" and they do The Thing

Jango and Ahsoka wrt Quinlan is just “Do I need to beat him up for you” “You realize I’ve beaten up sith lords before?”

JANGO'S TRYING He's just. "Can we be friends? Can I--can I be the guy that just noticeably gets in the way of a creep on the subway so you can be more comfortable without someone making a scene? I'm fucking trying here, give me a hint."

We didn’t actually figure out Jango’s age until this point. The only reason Fett's age matters is for Quinlan making a Wild Oats quip after Jango says he didn't know about Rex until a few weeks ago, and Fett going "How old do you think I am? And how old do you think the kid is?" and Quinlan getting Very Awkward as he does the math. Rex overhears and lets Quinlan sweat for a bit before saying "I'm a genetically-modified clone someone grew in a tube, he didn't know or have reason to know until he saw me with Sokari." Which is like. Eight additional layers of WTF, obviously, but at least Jango gets to avoid awkward wild oats jokes

Like, you’d expect the rebuttal to be ‘he’s my brother just with a biiig age gap’ or ‘he’s my nephew’

I find it very unfortunate for Quinlan that I've decided his defining characteristic in this context is going to be repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth

He’s trying so hard but "That sounds like a cool thing, maybe I'll ask ab--and it's another fucking trauma."

I'm doing Ahsoka&Jango t w i c e (there’s another fic where I’m doing it)

It’s just a fun dynamic! So much resentful respect.

Like she's twenty seconds away from calling him a bitch at any given time and he's just there like "I don't like you but I do see you move like you're about to tell an entire building to get on their knees with their hands in the air and I can respect that" Also she's probably much less judgmental about using blasters than Obi-Wan is The Maul subplot actually started with me daydreaming about Ahsoka grabbing a blaster for Reasons

I like the idea of Jango just deciding the most Useful thing he can do is help teach the Smol how to fight. He's AWKWARD around Rex and Soka because he doesn't know if there's anything he CAN teach them.

I didn’t actually plan for Tholme to figure out the age thing, he just SAID it and I had to sit there like Wait.

Ahsoka, Rex & Leia: ahhh, children Tholme: you say that like you aren’t children

I liked getting to write Rex's little "I have worked with all of them, and they're all Terrible" He loves them But They once got stranded on a planet that didn’t exist and Ahsoka died and Anakin killed a god.

There was research and discussion as to whether Ahsoka could win against Tholme but seeing as she held her own against Vader, and fought Grievous at that physical age without dying, etc.... yeah, the only thing holding her back was her body not being what she was used to, and she’s had a few weeks go adjust.

“I miss being able to just jump off skyscrapers” is such a jedi thing

Jango: I'll take the gun back if he tries to leave, they can't get far before--WHAT THE FUCK He knows Jedi are scary but he’s still not really used to just how over the top ridiculous they are He knows how to deal with Jedi in battle, not Whatever The Fuck These People Are Doing

Rex isn't even a Jedi, he's just so used to working with them. “Oh yes time for free-falling without a parachute again, same shit as always.”

Tia: I’m imagining Jango freaking out and Quinlan and Tholme being like. Concerned but mostly exasperated Clearly if they’re jumping off buildings it must be serious? But jfc they could’ve maybe communicated a bit more?

Leia: I want to finish my juice Tholme: Quin, stay with her while we go figure out what those two are doing. Quinlan: Wait what

Jango: Oh now he’s jumping off a building too??? Tholme: Sokari, you are not registered! You can't legally jump out windows yet! Jango: What the hell is going on? Is this normal?

We don’t necessarily know how often Ahsoka and Maul ran into each other after Mandalore. There was the later thing on Malachor, but other than that I'm just going with the idea that they ran into each other every year or two and just went for the eyes like feral cats

Ahsoka: I need to kick ass and you're coming with me. Rex: Yeah, okay. [several minutes later] Rex: Whose ass are we kicking?

Ahsoka and Rex

Neloms aren’t a SW fruit to the best of my knowledge, I just wanted to mess around with lemons/melons

Jango: you didn’t think any of this through, did you? Rex: you were there, you know we didn’t "When the Jedi says to jump out a window, I jump out a window."

Tholme’s real composed about stalking the ancient nigh-mythical enemy of his people, very “Life is already so goddamn weird”

This fic has been so heavy on the trauma but then I introduce Maul and suddenly it's the worst kind of comedy Nobody is competent, everyone's a little dumb, the bad guy is just grocery shopping

My propensity for banter has turned this into a six-person buddy cop comedy about Maul buying grapes They spend a significant amount to time ineffectually stalking Maul before Quin suggests the sensible option Quinlan just "You remember this is my literal job and specialty right"

Ahsoka sees Maul and all her brain cells go out the window except "Fight good" Usually she doesn’t need to worry about doing things legally. Maybe she needs to worry about someone seeing her do illegal things but she spent the past 15 yrs in a place where her existing was illegal

I feel like he’s also maybe kinda wanting to reassert that yes he is competent. Bc like. Ahsoka’s been kinda condescending this whole time and also can beat everyone up so. It's not his fault that he's actually the youngest person there, but.

Jango is finding this whole being friendly to Jedi thing a lot more overwhelming than he thought it would be. And overwhelming in different ways.

Maul usually signifies things getting worse and more horrifyingly tragic but he's just a dumb teen that they needed to arrest for his own good.

Quinlan: Look, I'm useful! Ahsoka: I've been through hell, wanna hear? Quinlan: NO. I DON'T. WHY.

Quinlan: I understand the concept of joking about your traumas, I do it sometimes myself! But sith hells that’s a lot of trauma.

Quinlan just wanted her to treat him as a Competent Individual, and here she is whipping out stories about Dying and Gods and the Force insists it's the truth and he just???? And apparently emo darksider over there is a Sith. And just, sure. Why not

A lot of people’s interactions with the time travelling disaster lineage is just

Tholme and Fett arguing and Ahsoka's just waiting for a moment to pop in with "Hey, when's the last time either of you worked with the other's culture before this mess? Yeah, that's what I thought."

Much like Leia and Ahsoka hurting each other earlier, and Tholme figuring out the de-aging, we ALSO have Fett’s confrontation with Ahsoka being something the characters just did, rather than something I planned.

FTR the only time I managed to trigger myself while writing this fic was the “your behavior isn’t actually acceptable and we’ve all been trying really hard to give you room to recover but you have to at least make an effort to not be a bitch”

Writing about people having PTSD and symptoms of such: Yay! Writing about people having PTSD and engaging in toxic behavior to cope: Shit Ahsoka had... basically my exact reaction. It's "remind yourself that you're in the wrong, that they have a point, and then be overly formal in the apology because fuck if you accidentally make them feel sorry for you when they're the injured party"

Quinlan: Can we be friends? I mean, you're an asshole, but you're really cool. Let's be friends. (He MIGHT be nursing a crush) (Neat mysterious girl who can beat him up.)

Also he realises she's probably nicer when not having a slow-motion breakdown He's like "Huh, you'll probably be less of an asshole once you've gotten therapy."

...also, she pretty and got Nice Biceps

I love writing a good mental breakdown

I was so close to including a "he tried to kill me" just early enough for Jango to wildly misinterpret as her thinking Quinlan tried to kill her. He'd have been very confused, considering Quinlan's the one that called them down in a panic and currently has Ahsoka having her massive breakdown in his lap But

Tia: I could see Jango interpreting it as idk, Quin resembling someone or for a moment acting like someone who tried to kill her and she had a flashback or something like that

There's absolutely room for a couple reasonable interpretations there And "trapped in a flashback about someone who tried to kill her" is absolutely what's happening! Just. You know. For a different reason. Jango probably wouldn’t assume Quin would hurt her, for one thing he seems to like her, for another even if he did he’s smart enough to pick a way that wouldn’t be so likely to get him caught

I had to step back and actually say “Also I'm just. Wow. I'm really just shoveling QPP Rex&Ahsoka at full speed”

Me, a few weeks ago, joking: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist Me, now, entirely seriously: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist

Me, belatedly: Oh, Ahsoka being joyfully mean to people was a form of mania she was unconsciously using to build a barrier between herself and her impending meltdown

She went from "just died" to "in charge of Rex and Leia" in like. Two minutes.

Confession: I've been delighting in the mental image of this whole Mess leading Jango to try to retake Mandalore, and Ahsoka loans him a saber for a 1v1 to get the darksaber.

“Can’t I just fight him barehanded? That’s how I did it on Galidraan.” "But the drama, Fett!"

Probably Rex has learned how to use a saber as well, because you never know when you have to borrow a weapon

I later changed my mind to Jango asking her to help, rather than her just sneak-teaching him, but it was funny.

Background nonsense to all this is Ahsoka and Rex, despite Rex being as force-sensitive as a lump of coal, having developed a process where she can extend her sensitivity to him mind-to-mind for weird symbiotic battle trance that scares everyone around them. It’s very similar to Battle meditation.

CONTEXT FOR LEIA BEING WORRIED ABOUT THOLME HIDING THINGS: Tholme is hiding the fact that the Council reached out and told him that the people he picked up might be connected to Ben and Luke, who showed up after the Depa thing but a solid week and change before Jango's ship makes it to the Temple. They asked that he not share that information to avoid getting anyone's hopes up in case the two situations aren't related. Ben and Luke haven't shared enough information for anyone to really be sure if the other three are connected Because the info Tholme has isn't quite the info Jango has, etc. And they can't just say Ben is a future Obi-Wan over comms

I just have a lot of feelings about people trying to do something right and just. Nobody's at fault! Not really! It's just complicated!

Tia: I like how when Ahsoka isn’t doing maladaptive trauma response stuff she’s very mature. And of course she’s had to be but it’s a good like, contrast. Where when she slows down to think about things she’s very sensible

Jango just spends most of this story lowkey wanting Ahsoka to Be His Friend but there's too much baggage that he's only metaphysically responsible for

Local aroace(?) has a squish

Ahsoka: He just wants to get on my good side because of Rex. Jango: I'm pretty sure you could kill an entire army without trying but you wouldn't because you have actual morals and stuff... and when I met you it was because you were killing yourself trying to keep (what appeared to be) children safe... you seem cool please be my friend.......

Ahsoka’s #1 weakness: mountains of trauma Ahsoka’s #2 weakness: she just doesn’t get why so many people think she’s cool and want her to be their (girl)friend

Jango, a 27yo massacre survivor who's killed Jedi masters with his bare hands: [gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly]

Ahsoka was raised in a religious meritocracy but developed all her opinions during a galactic war and then became a vigilante spy, Rex comes from a military cult, Leia is from an inherited monarchy that participates in democracy, Quinlan was originally from what appears to be a dynastic dictatorship, and IDK about Tholme other than that he is also from the religious meritocracy. And in legends Quinlan came to the religious meritocracy after his aunt sacrificed his parents to a vampire cult and then forced him to experience the psychometric echoes of that. There's just. A lot going on.

Leia at least has knowledge about structure and admin in theory that isn't based in either the military or populations under 10k

Jango: I want to be your friend. Ahsoka: Sounds fake.

I am unfairly fond of "Rex destroys a conversation by bringing up his own horrifying childhood and calling it a cult"

"Why does Sokari call you 'Rex'ika'?" "Because she's older than me." "...can I--?" "No."

Nickname privileges are extended ONLY to Ahsoka and older clones. There are no more older clones, so it's just Ahsoka.

Me joking about Star Wars AUs: Would you like a crackship? Me writing actual Star Wars fic: My favorite character type is apparently “too traumatized to have a relationship” so this is at least 90% gen.

I had to pull a scene opening at one point because Ahsoka's skill with not getting shot is actually much less useful than Tholme's clearance levels.

Now I really want a team-up of Ahsoka, Rex, and Jango where they do have to get in a dogfight of the "she flies, we shoot" variety and Fett just has to scream because the speeder thing to catch Maul was one thing, but this....

Ahsoka, before TCW: I know all the traffic rules but I'm not that great at flying! Ahsoka, after TCW: I'm great at flying but if you let me behind the wheel we are absolutely getting arrested.

She went from "knows the rules but doesn't have the skills" to "has the skills but primarily in the form of not getting shot" which! Is delightful! "Bet I can get us through that alley--" "DO NOT"

Jango and Ahsoka are both just very "Is this friendship? Is this camaraderie? My heart's been fried on platonic love by so many murders that I'm not sure anymore." "I've lost a lot of friends. I kind of forgot how to make those."

I have no idea if "hasn't been closer than Alderaan except that one trip to Chandrila" is canon-compliant but ehhhhhhhh It feels plausible enough?

Belatedly realized that I could just explain my optimal Rex&Ahsoka dynamic as just... drift compatible. It's vague enough on the specifics while still digging into the meat of what they mean to each other and how they work together. The terminology is already in existence. I can just use it.

Romantic? Platonic? Familial? Doesn't matter! They're drift compatible.

They are important to each other and that is what matters

I really like the Leia&Quinlan thing. He's just like "This small child needs a friend that isn't super depressed," and decided he's going to be her friend. I keep trying to toss in "Quinlan volunteers to 'baby'sit." She's not much older and she has a Baby Brain, it works out

There's a running bet as to whether Leia will leave the Order the second she turns thirteen, or if she'll let Sokari "train" her for a few years first. And... that’s how I came up with Leia Antilles, Senator of Serenno.

They'll be bullshitting Ben as her new master to "finish out the padawanship" since they can't tell everyone she's really in her thirties and he's conveniently there and already knows everything and was half her master anyway. Like Ben was planning on taking on Luke, but Luke is "six" and even he can't swing that as old enough to be a Padawan, and it's not like Sokari will take more than a handful of years to justify knighthood, sooooooooo

#Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Leia Organa #Jango Fett #Obi Wan Kenobi #time travel #de aging #Phoenix Babbles #Uncle Ben and Little Luke #Auntie Soka and Little Leia #I need to excise the bits that are actually funny on their own

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years ago

Text

Meeting and Dating Kevin Lomax

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Kevin met when he was still a little new to the courtroom. He was fresh out of law school, had a few cases under his belt, and was out celebrating his latest victory with a few friends when he just so happened to spot you in the crowd.

- The minute he saw you, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. He thought you were gorgeous and he had to stop himself from staring as his friends patted him on the back and stroked his ego.

- Your eyes might have met from across the room a few times and you might have taken turns looking over at each other throughout your time spent sitting at the bar but nothing of value happens until you’re a drink or two in.

- It’s a little later in the night when he finally approaches you. You’re standing/sitting at the bar and he comes up behind you, asking if he can buy you a drink and doing so before introducing himself.

- The two of you sit and talk for a bit, blatantly flirting with each other the entire time. He mentions his victory and you congratulate him, asking if his friends mind that he’s sitting there with you instead of celebrating with them. He merely smiles and tells you that “frankly”, he doesn’t give a damn.

- It isn’t long before he asks you if he can take you out sometime and like any rational person, you agree and spend the rest of the night feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

- For your first date, he takes you to a nice little restaurant for dinner. If you weren’t aware already, he’s incredibly charismatic so you find yourself falling for him more and more the longer you sit there with each other.

- You share your first kiss later that night as you’re walking back to his car. You have to pass a crosswalk and while you’re standing there waiting for the little light to let you go, he just leans down and kisses you.

- By the time he’s pulling away, the signs already telling you to go, so he takes your hand and walks you across the street, a handsome smile evident on his face as you try to fight back your own.

- It’s safe to say that the lawyer won you over.

- Kevin legitimately never leaves you the fuck alone when the two of you are together. He’s constantly touching and kissing you to his hearts content. He lives to have his hands on you so expect a ton of Pda.

- Handholding. He usually has to lead you places; whether out of a courtroom or through a crowded bar, so it’s useful habit of his.

- Lots of hugs; oftentimes hugs from behind.

- Him biting your ear. He likes playful, teasing affection that makes you giggle so he does a lot of stupid stuff like that.

- Cheek kisses.

- Neck and back kisses.

- Quick, passionate and somewhat rough kisses. He likes stealing your breath away.

- Lots of making out and …other things.

- Most of the time, he’ll just use a shorter version of your name to address you but the occasional “baby” will slip from his lips from time to time as well.

- Oftentimes, you’ll wind up going to bed alone but whenever he arrives home, he’ll fall into bed behind you and pull you into his arms.

- Falling asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home or be done with his “quick” work problems. You’re going to be interrupted by business a lot; particularly after he goes to New York.

- The best thing you can do is find a couple hobbies and know how to keep yourself busy if you’re going to be in a relationship with Kevin. He’s a busy man and you’re going to be spending a lot of time on your own.

- He knows about all your hobbies and likes listening to you talking about them or showing him what you’ve done. He loves seeing you all excited over something.

- He never does anything without your permission. He needs to know that you approve of something before he finalizes anything.

- Being spoiled. He does everything he can for you; he wants you to be as happy as possible.

- After your relationship became more serious; or after you got married, he practically insisted that you quit your job. He didn’t like the thought of you working when he made enough to support you both and he liked coming home to you after a long day so it was only a matter of time.

- Being in the audience of his trials whenever you can.

- Helping him calm down and loosen up after tough cases.

- He tries not to talk to you about the details of cases most of the time; especially if he feels guilty over defending a certain person. Regardless, you can almost always tell when somethings wrong and immediately start to try and cheer him up.

- He likes messing with you every now and again; usually before he has good news to tell you. He’s a good actor and he uses his skills to psych you out.

- For a man who can be so serious at times, he can also be quite playful, constantly teasing and making you laugh.

- Celebrating with him after he’s won a case. He’ll usually pick you up and spin you around in his arms.

- Walking through the city together and sharing some street food.

- Going to the bar and dabbling in some dirty dancing.

- Going to nice restaurants after he gets a little more of that coin.

- Cheap takeout and a night in. Sometimes it’s just nice to relax on the couch together; usually with your legs in his lap while you watch television.

- Ice skating dates and other fun little things.

- When you lived in Florida, the two of you would cruise around town at night, listening to the radio and occasionally parking to makeout or walk around a certain area.

- Testing out his people reading skills and being amazed by how easy it is for him to dissect a person by their clothes and facial expressions.

- Packing him lunches or having dinner ready for him to come home to.

- Considering the types of people he’s represented in court, he’s probably made a few enemies around town, meaning that some people will just dislike you by default; though oftentimes it’s also out of envy.

- Telling him how proud you are of him. He knows that he’s a good lawyer but it’s nice to hear you say it sometimes too.

- Straightening out his jacket, tie or hair for him. He takes a particular comfort in you fussing over him and giving him motivational talks during breaks or before trials.

- Going to work parties and get togethers with him.

- Getting close to his coworkers wives and spending days with them; all while having a bad feeling settle in your gut.

- Getting targeted by Milton later on.

- His mother usually comes to spend time with you whenever he’s really hung up at work. You appreciate the company, especially when you start getting the same weird feelings as her; though you might chalk up your fear to her religious paranoia getting in your head.

- He tries to be as understanding as he can when you’re upset but he’s not the greatest at it. He’ll usually try to find a reasoning behind why you could be feeling so upset and try to calm you down that way which doesn’t do much good. But at least he tries, right?

- Kevin’s got a bit of a vanity problem but that's sort of a good thing for you because it means that he doesn't think you’d cheat on him; meaning he isn't gonna freak out when other guys so much as look at you. With that being said: I do think he’d occasionally take issue with you being all alone with men/male friends or people he knows wants to fuck you; even if he’s aware it’s irrational.

- Kevin’s not the most protective person in the world but he definitely does everything in his power to comfort you and make sure that you’re safe and happy.

- He’s a lawyer so of course he’s going to be good at arguing with you. The two of you don’t fight all the time but when you do, he’s going to be a bit of a jerk, following you around the house and trying to “win”.

- Because of the way he fights, more often than not, you’ll just have to take a step back and ignore him before you lose it. He doesn’t like the silent treatment and will sometimes spitefully use it himself or ask if you’re “done ignoring him” every time you can’t manage to avoid him.

- Once he thinks a fights gone on long enough, he’ll carefully choose his words and make his apology, telling you that you know he didn’t mean to upset you and so on and so forth. He’d expect you to do the same if you were in the wrong.

- He doesn’t say it constantly but he’ll tell you he loves you every now and again; usually when he’s really reminded of it.

- He’s got the ring already picked out, honey. It’s only a matter of time before you’re picking out a dress and a color for the walls in the nursery.

#kevin lomax imagine #kevin lomax headcanons #kevin lomax headcanon #kevin lomax imagines #the devils advocate imagine #the devils advocate imagines #the devils advocate headcanons #the devils advocate headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanons #90s movie headcanon

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ticklishfiend · 4 years ago

Text

The Persuasion Machine (My Hero Academia)

Lee!Bakugou / Ler!Class 1A Girls ⚠️PLATONIC⚠️

(A sequel to “Pure Gold”: read that first!)

A/N : sorry it took me a while to get this one out! school has been terrible and i’ve been sick with migraines for days but hopefully this is good enough! i’m working on another mha fic rn so hopefully i don’t quit on it lmaoo. hope u enjoy!

Summary : Bakugou begrudgingly attends the girls sleepover Mina has invited him to so she doesn’t blackmail him with incriminating material. When he doesn’t answer one of their gossipy questions the way they wanted, they decide to use a little persuasion to guide him their own way (leading to some interesting results).

Word Count : 3461

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!! MWAH <33

Bakugou had been dreading today from the moment he agreed to attend this stupid ass sleepover in the first place. Since when did he start caving so easily to puppy-dog eyes of all things?! His friends were starting to make him go soft, and this is NOT something he needs hanging over his head while trying to become the world's number one hero. Especially not from someone who now knows his deepest, darkest secret; he absolutely loves romance anime.

He couldn’t help it, the stories were always so compelling and they drew him in every single time without fail. Sometimes he’d catch himself getting emotional at the worst of the worst shoujos out there, but dammit if he didn’t love a good confession scene, alright?! There’s just something so satisfying about the build-up, the angst, the tension, all of it is just enough to make the stone-cold, stoic future pro-hero shed a few happy tears. He really couldn’t help it. Especially considering he’s been having feelings of his own for someone recently, so that mixed with those heart wrenching scenes..it’s impossible not to cry, okay?!

But now that he’s got someone else who knows this secret about him, he can’t allow it to get out there in the world. Mina is one of his most trustworthy friends, but she’s also the most inclined to gossip. She’s not one to turn away from good blackmail material, and now that she was lying on this pot of gold there was nothing that could turn her away from it, not even good old-fashioned tickle torture like he had already tried. It seemed Bakugou’s real, true, only option at this point was to attend that dumb fucking sleepover and get this shit over with once and for all.

So that’s what he did. Even though he tried his best to ignore the nagging dread building up as the day slowly dragged on, the moment he heard that excited knock on his door at 6 that evening, he knew there was really no escape. He was being forced against his will to have...fun.

With an exasperated sigh, Bakugou trudged from his bed over to his dorm door, throwing it open only to be attacked in a vicious hug by a flash of bright pink. The girl held his arms tightly against his sides as his eyes drooped in annoyance, Mina letting out an excited little squeal as she tired bouncing the boy up and down in her hug.

“Eeeee! I’m so excited, Blasty, you have no idea! Tonight’s gonna be the best night ever!” She giggled giddily, finally letting him go before grabbing his wrist and quickly leading him out into the hall towards her room. He growled at the contact, though didn’t put up any resistance. Better to just get this shit over with and let the little nuisance have her fun, Bakugou thought as they finally reached the door to her room. He could hear chatter from the inside, assuming the girls had been hanging out for a few hours before Mina had decided it was time for her little guest star to arrive. She placed him a little ways away from the door, standing in front of it and facing him with a wide grin. He was taller than the girl, having to look down to her in order to see the bright smile that seemed to be plastered onto her face at all times.

“Okay, so, here are the rules for tonight: don’t be mean. This is a FUN night, I don’t want you ruining it for the rest of the girls, got it?” She pointed an accusatory finger up towards his face. Bakugou only lowered his eyelids in response, obviously annoyed. She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Okay, fine, you can be a little mean, but only because we find it kinda funny sometimes. Just no making anyone cry!”

Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and throwing his eyes towards the ceiling. “Fine. No one will cry.”

“Good. Next: actually try to have fun with us! Don’t just sit there all mopey like you’ve done during dorm game nights. Actually try!” Mina entangled her fingers together and held them up to her cheek, giving Bakugou the biggest, most pathetic little puppy eyes the explosive teen had ever seen. “Pretty pleeeeease?~”

“Good god, Pinky, I get the fuckin’ idea! I’ll try, alright?! But if you show that video to ANYONE, so help me god you’ll never see another sleepover for the rest of your damn life!” Bakugou shouted, and though his screams would be terrifying to anyone else, Mina only chuckled in response, throwing up a thumbs up towards her taller counterpart.

“Get ready, Blasty, cause this is gonna be great.”

Bakugou couldn’t help it. He was stiff when he first arrived, feeling awkward and out of place. This wasn’t his territory, wasn’t his environment. He was surrounded by giggly girls who wanted him to play their little games and gossip, and it just felt...wrong at first.

And it just kept getting worse.

“Soo...Hagakure...any new interesting developments with Ojiro?” Mina grinned towards the floating pair of pink pajamas rested on a purple bean bag. The other girls all giggled, Tsu even shoving at Mina playfully with a funny scowl on her face. Bakugou knew what they were talking about, and he was not interested in this conversation at fucking all, and for more reasons than just general annoyance.

“I mean, just the same old same old I guess. Not that that’s a bad thing! I’m loving how we are right now, he’s just so sweet and loving and...yeah. It’s going good,” the invisible girl shifted in her seat, and though they couldn’t see her, the smile on her face was blatantly evident in her voice. “Have you guys got any crushes you wanna discuss?”

Jirou’s face turned bright red, though she remained silent and frozen in place. Mina spoke up first. “Nope! Not for me, at least. Still waiting for the day I’m a pro and can finally try to win some with Hawks. God, that’ll be the fuckin’ day,” Mina sighed happily, and Ochacco just giggled and punched her shoulder playfully.

“You won’t get within two feet of the guy before he files a restraining order,” Uraraka said snidely, making the girls laugh. Even Bakugou had to stifle a small chuckle behind his palm.

“Hawks, huh?” Bakugou finally spoke up, leaning his back against the wall and crossing his legs on the bed. He decided the best way to speed tonight along was to engage in their conversation. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Ohoho yeah. What, you tellin’ me you don’t think he’s hot?” Mina chided, looking up towards Bakugou from her place on the floor.

“Didn’t say that. And I didn’t say I was shocked either. ‘Course you picked a pro to crush on and not anyone you actually know,” Bakugou said mockingly, but it only prompted a sadistic grin to appear on Mina’s face.

The pink girl quickly popped from her spot on the ground and up onto the bed with Bakugou, Momo, and Jirou, leaving barely any room on the space. “Hey, what the f-!” Bakugou started, before Mina plopped herself cross-legged right in front of his face, and evil look glinting from her eyes.

“Who do you have a crush on then, Blasty?” Mina’s grin was face-splitting, and the look in Bakugou’s eyes gave her everything she ever could have wanted.

“Crush?! Why would I of all people have a fucking crush!? I don’t like people!” Bakugou shouted, though from how close Mina was to his face right now, it was impossible for her to miss the small tinge of blush on his cheeks. She was striking gold again already.

“I don’t believe you~” Mina sung, her two index fingers wiggling at his chest in teasing mockery. “C’mon, Bakugou, you’re so easy to see through! Just tell us and noooo one has to suffer!”

“The fuck are you talking about?! I don’t like anyone, end of discussion, okay?!” Bakugou shoved Mina away from him (not too forcefully, of course, just enough to shove her towards Momo sitting on the pillows). Mina sighed with a smile, shaking her head with tuts of disappointment.

“Y’know, I didn’t want it to have to come to this, Katsuki Bakugou, but you really leave me no choice,” Mina looked around at her friends with a knowing but evil shine in her eyes, and they all perked up with understood smiles, and Bakugou couldn’t help the tinge of fear he felt shiver down his spine. “Girls...I think it’s about time we introduce our guest to the ‘Persuasion Machine.’”

“The fucking what-!? -hey! The hell do you think you’re doing! GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” Bakugou shouted as all the girls pounced on him at once, all grabbing at him for an arm. Tsu, Uraraka, and Hagakure all took his left arm, while Jirou and Momo prompted for his right, each of them holding onto his limbs back tightly enough where he was restrained. Mina plopped herself down on his outstretched thighs, now uncomfortably close to his face.

Mina wiggled her fingers out in front of the boy’s face, and all at once Bakugou understood what was about to happen. This wasn’t just persuasion. This was revenge for last night.

“You’ve got one last chance to talk, Katsuki. Who do you have a crush on?” Mina spoke in a low interrogator voice that would usually be amusing to Bakugou if it weren’t for the fact he was very obviously about to be tortured by tickles.

“NO ONE, PEA FOR BRAINS! LET GO!” Bakugou pulled at his arms, but in all honesty...he chose not to put up that much of a fight. He wouldn’t let the girls know this, of course, but...if he’s here to let them have fun, then dammit he’s gonna let them have their fun, even if that means sacrificing his dignity even just a little. At least it’s these girls and not anyone who’d actually judge him.

“Fine. Have it your way,” Mina smirked, looking towards her friends restraining Bakugou on both sides. “Girls, pin him.”

Before Bakugou could even blink, the girls had him pinned on his back against the bed, now sitting on his arms.He tried to move them, really move them that time and...nothing. Shit. Oh shit. He was actually restrained now. He really couldn’t move at all.

Fuck.

“Pinky, I swear to god if you fucking touch mE-” Bakugou grunted, locking his jaw together when he felt those evil, evil acrylics scribble on his belly. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, tossing his head to the side trying desperately to distract himself from those skittering fingers that never relented.

“Ooh, little ticklish, Bakugou?~” Mina teased, pushing his black tank top up just slightly to reveal his toned but quivering belly. She scratched her nails along his sides, making him grunt out a giggle much to his dismay.

“NO! I’m nohot!” Bakugou giggled as her index finger scratched right below his belly button, his face twisting up in a smile he absolutely despised. “FUCKIHIHING QUIT IHIHIT!”

“Wow, he must be really ticklish. He broke pretty fast,” Tsu spoke bluntly, and though she was only rationalizing the situation, her words somehow felt so teasing to him in the moment, making his giggles go even higher pitched than before.

“Right? Mina’s barely touched him and he’s already giggling,” Jirou chuckled from her side, her eyes never leaving the giggling boy below her. “Can’t wait to see how he reacts when she really gets going.”

Without warning, Mina began kneading her thumbs into the sides of Bakugou’s belly. The explosive teen threw his head back in mirth, cackling and just barely kicking his legs out behind her.

“NAHAHA! STAHAHAP! FUHUHUCK YOHOHOU!” Bakugou spat out between his cackles, prompting Mina to gasp in mock shock.

“Well I never, Bakugou! Is that really how you would speak to your bestest friend in the whole wide world?” Mina moved her fingers up towards the bottoms of his ribs, sending him into a whole new wave of giggles and cackles, digging his heels into the bedsheets. “Aww, are your ribs sensitive, Blasty? You real ticklish here?~” Mina pinched at his bottom ribs quickly, and Bakugou was hysterical.

“GAHAHAHA! NOHOHO! I’M NOHOHOT! QUIT IHIHIT!!” Bakugou laughed, tugging at his arms restrained by the girls on top of him. “MINAHAHAHA!”

“Oh my god! He never calls me by my actual name! We’re actually getting through to him!” Mina shouted in excitement, slowing her tickles til she was just resting her nails on his ribs in teasing warning. He breathed heavily at the relief, but his cheeks were flushed in embarrassment and he only opened one eye to look up at his interrogator. “You ready to talk yet? Cause I know there’s gotta be a love interest in that mean little head of yours somewhere!”

Bakugou growled up at her through bared teeth, still breathing harder than he wanted to be. “Fuck...you…” He grumbled at his interrogator, clenching his fists in anticipation as he felt those nails just barely start to move again. They moved at an agonizingly slow rate, making him squirm but not yet giggle.

“Maybe we’re not being mean enough. Jirou?” Mina looked up towards the grinning purple-headed girl in front of her, who already knew what she had to do.

“With pleasure, Mina,” Jirou chuckled, extending her earphone jacks down towards Bakugou’s exposed armpits, just barely letting them touch the bare space. Bakugou’s eyes widened in excited fear at the sensation, his body jerking involuntarily.

“NO! Fuck, no, wait!-”

“You wanna talk?” Mina asked, nodding her head at Jirou, alerting the girl to begin moving her jacks in his underarms. She just barely tickled the area teasingly, but he was a puddle of giggles in no time. His teeth were clenched shut and eyes screwed tightly closed, but the high-pitched, breathy giggles that made his chest shake were unmistakable.

He shook his head in answer to her question, before barking with loud laughter as Mina dug into his upper ribs right below where Jirou continued her teasing onslaught of tickles.

“NAHAHAHA! STAHAHAH-” Bakugou cackled, his words getting lost in the mess of laughs and shrieks as the girls continued their torment on his sensitive body.

“Aww, he’s so ticklish! I really didn’t expect this from him to be honest,” Uraraka cooed, using one of her free hands to scribble one nail down his exposed neck on her side. Bakugou let out a surprised squeal, scrunching his head down to shoulders, effectively trapping her finger in the terribly sensitive area.

“GAHAHAHA FUHUHUCK! QUHUHUIT! I SWHEHEAR!” Bakugou screamed with his own aggressive form of pleading, kicking his legs out in playful agony.

“All you have to do is say one little name, Bakugou~” Mina teased, her right hand staying to squeeze at the hypersensitive spot on his ribs, while moving her left to down to vibrate her index fingers into his very lower rib, the exact spot and method he had used on her the night before.

Bakugou lost his mind.

“FUHUHUCK NO PLEHEHEASE! STAHAHAP IHIHIT! GAHAHA SHIT NOT THEHEHERE! NOT THAHAHAT!” Bakugou screamed, bringing his knees up towards Mina’s back in a desperate attempt to curl up, before resorting back to his hysterical kicking like before.

“Tickle tickle, Blasty~” Mina cooed, turning the cackling boy beneath her a bright shade of red.

“Oh, he’s blushing!” Momo awed excitedly, pointing down at the boy’s face.

“NO I’M NOHOHOT!” Bakugou howled, squeaking when the finger Momo used to point began wiggling in his pit along with Jirou’s jack. He threw his head back in mirth, shrieking and cackling at the overwhelmingly ticklish sensations on his body.

“Somebody can’t handle being teased, huh?~” Hagakure pointed out.

“Nope. Poor thing’s gonna break in a minute, I promise you,” Mina spoke as if Bakugou wasn’t even there to listen, which only added fuel to his flustering fire. “So you ready for a break, Explosion Boy?”

“YEHEHES! GOD FUCK PLEHEHEASE!” Bakugou pleaded, gasping for air when all the ticklish sensations stopped at once. Tired, breathy giggles tumbled from his lips, his chest rising and falling in giddy exhaustion. “Fuhucking hell…”

“Crush, Bakugou. C’mon,” Mina crossed her arms, only resulting in Bakugou to roll his eyes.

“Is it that big of a fucking deal?!” Bakugou groaned, jumping with a yelp when he felt a single finger poke his belly button, “FUCK OKAY, OKAY! NO MORE! I’LL FUCKING TALK!”

“Finally,” Jirou muttered, chuckling when she saw Bakugou slightly blush from his spot under them.

“Just...this can’t...this can’t leave this damn room, you got that shitfaces?!” Bakugou’s insult wasn’t laced with his usual fiery aggression, and the girls knew he was serious.

“Bakugou, you would be surprised by the extensive list of secrets that have yet to leave these sleepovers,” Momo placed a non-tickly hand on his shoulder comfortingly, and she could feel the boy deflate relaxingly under her touch.

“Seriously! Nothing leaves this room, Blasty,” Mina gently grabbed Bakugou’s chin, turning his head to face her. His eyes finally met hers, and she nodded. “Nothing.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, again refusing to make any eye contact with the girls. “Fucking fine...but not because I want to…” he sighed roughly, shutting his eyes tightly before lowering his voice into a whisper that was just audible enough for the girls to hear. “It’s Kirish-”

“YES! I KNEW IT!” Mina threw her hands in the air with an excited screech, making Bakugou jump a little from surprise.

“I kinda thought the same thing, kero. Just wasn’t positive,” Tsu spoke with a finger on her chin before gently climbing off the boy. The other girls followed, and once he was finally free he pushed himself back to his spot against the wall, bringing his knees to his chest to lay his arms on top.

“So fucking stupid...why did you wanna know that shit so bad anyways, huh?!” Bakugou still couldn’t make complete eye contact with any of the girls out of embarrassment.

“Just thought it would be cute!” Mina smiled widely, before turning to face all the girls again. “So, anybody up for Just Dance?”

“Aw, really? You’re turning in already?” Mina whined up at Bakugou who was already making his way towards the door.

“Pinky, it’s 1 in the goddamn morning. I’ve already been tickled to death, played Just Dance, painted Kermit’s fucking nails, watched a shitty-ass horror movie, AND told you my who my stupid fucking crush is; I think I’ve got the whole damn sleepover experience,” Bakugou grunted before turning his body back towards the door before pausing his hand on the knob. “Actually, uh...come out here a minute, Horns. Gotta ask you something.”

“Already told you once, Blasty, they aren’t horns!” Mina said as she got up from her spot on the floor and over towards the door with Bakugou. “I’ll be back guys!”

“Alright. Night Bakugou!” Uraraka waved at the pair with a wide smile. All the other girls said their goodnights as well, Bakugou only nodding in response.

The pair made their way into the dark, quiet hallway together, shutting the door behind them. “So what’s up?” Mina asked in a whisper.

Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “How...how did you know?”

Mina’s brow quirked. “What?”

“You said you knew I liked him...how?”

Mina couldn’t help but smile. She shrugged. “Pretty obvious, Blasty. He’s the only one you tolerate. I used to think it was just cause you respected him, but when I found you watching that romance last night, it all just kinda made sense,” Mina chuckled, enjoying the slightly embarrassed silence Bakugou gave her in response. That was before Mina gasped suddenly.

“Oh goodness, I completely forgot! I’ll delete it right now, promise!” Mina took out her phone, when Bakugou made a small confused noise.

“Huh? Delete what?” the boy asked.

“The video I took of you. Y’know, the whole reason you came here tonight?” Mina turned her phone around to show Bakugou the clip of him crying at the screen of a romance anime, which made the boy blush in the dark.

“Oh, yeah,” Bakugou huffed. “You, uh...you do that.”

Mina just giggled before deleting the video for good. “Goodnight, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Bakugou rolled his eyes with a small hint of a smile, poking her once in the tummy. “Night.”

Mina watched as Bakugou trekked his way back to his room, and couldn’t help but smile. She knew, without a doubt, that that explosive kid with no friends…was definitely her friend.

A / N : thank you for reading, i hope u enjoyed!! sorry it took so long to get out, i’ve been dealing with a lot of stuff in my personal life lol. pls leave a like and pls pls reblog if u can!! <3 xx

#tickling #my fic #mha tickle #tickle community #ticklish!bakugou #my hero academia #katsuki bakugou #mina ashido #kyoka jiro #momo yaoyorozu #tsuyu asui #ochako urakara #hagakure tooru #class 1a #tickle fic

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 4 years ago

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Drown In My Desire

also on ao3

written for the Monster March prompt list prompt: siren pls see ao3 for the full list of tags, this is... something edit: some formatting got fucked up and I had to make some adjustments, sorry if there are any wonky bits now 😅

Geralt is barely off the boat back from Skellige when he hears about the contract. There's a lone Siren causing trouble along one of the trading routes; drawing the ships closer until they wreck on the jagged rocks of the bay. The fishermen complain loudly about it as he disembarks and as soon as his feet hit dry land, Geralt makes straight for them. It's basic Siren behaviour, likely to be an easy job and then back on his way.

The men are offloading barrels and Geralt keeps out of the way as he approaches the one giving orders.

"Heard you've got a Siren problem," he says and the man straightens up to look him over.

"Aye, we do. You're a Witcher, right? You'll take care of it for us?"

"What are you offering?"

"Godsdamn anything at this point. Things wrecked six shops, we've lost 11 good men, countless hours of labour... Name your price, Witcher, we'll pay it."

"Five hundred," Geralt suggests.

"Fine by me. Bring back proof of the kill and you'll get your coin."

"Agreed." Normally, Geralt would request half in advance, but he's dealt with Novigradian merchants before and they're reputable and trustworthy most of the time. Plus, this is a simple contract, probably not even worth the 500 he asked for.

He stays to get the rest of the details from the merchant, then heads into town to rent a room at the Kingfisher. He won't be in town long, but he may as well have somewhere comfortable to sleep when he inevitably comes back cold and wet.

Geralt bribes a local fisherman to take him out to the bay or as close to it as possible - no one will go right in any longer. They moor on the far side and Geralt disembarks, thanking the man and paying him a generous fee for his service. He didn't have to bring him out here, and many other men wouldn't dare go this far.

He hears the song immediately and it makes him pause. Geralt has heard the Siren song before, has even fallen under its spell in the past, and this is not it. This is a Siren, for sure, and he is singing, but his song is... sad. Geralt frowns as he makes his way over the swell of the hill, the beach sprawling out before him in a wide arc.

It's sandy, devoid of rocks and debris but the tide is down and large, jagged rocks break the surface of the water. Waves roll up gently onto the shore and Geralt scans the shoreline, looking for any sign of the Siren. The song is coming from the far side of the small bay, but he sees nothing.

Readjusting the belts across his chest, he makes his way down to the beach and across the sand.

He spots him shortly, tucked under a shelf of rock out of the sun, curled around himself. Geralt thinks at first, that he may be injured, hence the despair in his song, but as he approaches he recognizes a sense of desperation in the tune. Approaching further, he catches the creature's interest and he looks up at him, his confusion a mixture of desperation and fear and resignation. Geralt looks him over as he approaches, not trusting the Siren not to jump out and attack. He knows well enough they're crafty and wouldn't stop short of setting a trap in dire situations.

But when Geralt is within a few feet, the Siren still makes no sign of wanting to hurt him. If anything, he looks miserable to have been discovered and Geralt does a quick once-over for injuries. There are none visible, but as the Siren unfurls himself, stretching out to his full length, Geralt pauses.

He doesn't know a lot about Siren anatomy past what a sorcerer will pay for what, but he's seen enough pricks in his life to know one when he sees it.

Jaskier whines internally and shuts up as soon as he sees the figure approaching. He was trying to attract... well, not him. Not a Witcher. He needs someone to solve his problem, not to be killed as the solution to someone else’s. But maybe that would be better than going through this every five years out here alone. Maybe the Witcher will be kind and put him out of his misery and then- well, at least he wouldn't be stuck here on his own like this.

But the man approaches and doesn't do anything. He just looks, walking closer until Jaskier could nearly reach out and touch him. Slowly, as non-threateningly as he can, he uncoils himself to prove he's not a threat. His cock aches and he's reminded of the fact that it's very blatantly on display, but that's the least of his problems now.

"You're the one who's been wrecking ships?" the Witcher asks and well, yes, Jaskier assumes that's his fault.

He's seen the wreckage washing up on shore, seen the men floating lifeless amongst the waves. He tries to help, but in this state, it's impossible to do much before the burning need overtakes him again and he's rendered useless.

"I didn't-" he starts, but he doesn't think a Witcher will care whether he meant to or not. He just wants a companion, wants someone to help ease this ache as his own attempts aren't helping any longer, he didn't mean for the humans to get in the way.

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't mean for them to get hurt." Jaskier doesn't look at him, but the Witcher is quiet for some time and then,

"It’s... a mating song?" he guesses and something in Jaskier’s stomach twists uncomfortably that he could figure it out so quickly. Jaskier avoids his eyes looking instead at the way the sand coats the toes of his boots.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Jaskier's head snaps up at that and he looks the Witcher dead in the eye. He's never heard of a monster being given a chance to tell their side of the story, to redeem themself. The Witcher drops to the sand, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"I-" Jaskier starts, unsure if this is some sort of twisted game. "I just- I was hoping someone might be nearby to hear-" he feels pathetic, his only consolation the fact that the Witcher doesn't know that he came here willingly, he left his family willingly to go out and explore the vast oceans and now he’s miserable.

"How long have you been here?" the Witcher asks, "you've never caused problems before now."

"Before now I wasn't-" he rolls his eyes in frustration at himself, slapping his tail against the sand. "Sirens," he starts again, "go through cycles. I'm in heat and I'm alone and every attempt I've made to reach out has only ended in ruin." Jaskier scowls at his own confession.

"I tried to help," he adds solemnly, "I just... I can't focus, I don't have the strength to pull them to the surface- I tried," he persists, "but I'm not much use like this." His cock aches and he groans at the timing. "I hardly think that deserves a death sentence." He wraps his tail protectively around himself, hiding the evidence of his situation.

"Not here to hurt you," the Witcher explains, "just here to keep people from dying. I could... help?"

Jaskier starts at the offer, his wings snapping tight against his back. "What do you mean, help?"

The Witcher huffs a light laugh and Jaskier tries not to be too hopeful. He's never strayed beyond his race, though he knows many who have and if he were to, well, the Witcher isn't awful to look at. In fact, Jaskier thinks, taking in his shining golden eyes and shock-white hair tied back in a loose bun, he’s quite lovely.

"Now, I know you're not stupid," the Witcher says, almost sounding amused. "The offer’s there. I'll help if you stop with the singing."

Maybe it's the need coursing through him, or maybe it's the fact that no one has ever been so kind to him before, or maybe there's just something about this man's smile that makes him weak. Jaskier agrees.

"Not here," he says. "Can you swim?" The Witcher cocks an eyebrow at him. "I'd prefer not to have to do this out in the open where anyone could just wander upon us. I do have some sense of decorum."

"Where are we going?"

"Home," Jaskier says simply. "It's not far." He shifts in the sand, sitting up and gesturing out toward the sea. "A human could make the swim, surely a Witcher can as well."

"Fair enough. I'm Geralt, by the way. And I can swim."

"Jaskier."

He squirms in the sand, trying to force his cock to withdraw, but it's no use. Geralt rises, kicking off his boots and removing his gear, tucking it away into a crevice in the rock. He bends down, scooping Jaskier into his arms. It's a shock and Jaskier is helpless to do anything but wind his arms around Geralt's neck and hold on, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the way his cock juts out obscenely, betraying him.

Geralt walks into the waves, releasing Jaskier as soon as the water is up to his waist. He holds his breath, lets Jaskier take his hand, and follows him down beneath the surf. Jaskier feels marginally better out of the sun and sand, in the cool water, but not much. He swims quickly, eager to return home and get on with... whatever Geralt has in mind to help.

He ducks into the narrow tunnel, dropping Geralt's hand and gesturing for him to follow behind. He does, and Jaskier leads the way back to an underwater cave. Glowing coral grows near the ledge of rock, where the water gives way to open air again. It gives off a little light, but Jaskier can see perfectly well and he knows Witchers have night vision.

He slips up onto the stony cave floor and offers a webbed hand to Geralt as he breaks the surface. To Geralt's credit, he only seems a little out of breath as he's hauled up out of the water.

Jaskier flops back on his side, watching the way Geralt rises to his feet, tugging his soaked shirt off and wringing the water from it. His trousers remain in place and Jaskier finds himself disappointed, curious to see what's hidden beneath. But this isn't a fun romp for the sake of it; this is an agreement, Geralt is simply doing him a favour.

When he seems pleased with the state of his shirt, Geralt lays it out and lies down next to him, lining his body up with Jaskier's. He's... stunning up close and it takes more of his effort than it should not to simply reach out and touch him just for the sake of it. He remembers fucking other Sirens, the touching, the press of bodies - he misses it, and he finds himself wishing this was something more than a simple favour. But that's selfish; Geralt is already offering him so much, for so little in return and nothing, even, for himself.

"You'll have to walk me through it," Geralt says with a smile, "I've never fucked a Siren before."

"Oh. You can just... touch me?" Jaskier says and Geralt reaches out tentatively, slipping a hand over the swell of his hip.

"Like this?"

Jaskier nods. It's not exactly what he wants, but it does feel nice and he's not about to try and direct. Geralt's hesitation is short-lived and he slides his hand up Jaskier's chest, brushing his thumb over a nipple and Jaskier's breath catches. He watches the movement of Geralt's hand as his fingers press into his skin, warm, despite the swim through cool water.

He shifts slightly, leaning up on one arm and pressing back down, over the swell of Jaskier's hip and he tugs him forward before abruptly before dragging his fingers up the length of Jaskier's swollen cock. He's slow, but delicate like he's learning his way around, but it feels incredible and it's hard for Jaskier not to just thrust up into the touch and take the pleasure from his hands.

Geralt's fingers slip over the ridge at the base of him, curling around him beneath it and squeezing as he pulls up over it.

"What is this?" he asks. He sounds intrigued, curious, and Jaskier can't help but indulge him.

"'S hard to fuck underwater," he hums, moaning as Geralt's fingers reach the tip of his cock. One dips into the slit, pressing against it, and Jaskier whimpers. "Keeps me from... slipping out." The noise Geralt makes in response is hard to determine, but it sounds interested. He moves his hand back down to squeeze around the ring.

His fingers slip over the swell of skin, pressing against it and running his thumb along the edge. He likes it, Jaskier realizes. It prods at something inside him and he presses his hips forward encouragingly.

"Does that feel good?" Geralt asks and Jaskier nods, pressing his forehead against his arm to keep from moaning out loud. He wants to show his appreciation, wants Geralt to know he can do as he pleases with him, but he doesn't want to push too hard.

Geralt’s light touches grow bolder, pressing more firmly, jerking him quickly and firmly and as Jaskier whines and squirms beneath him, Geralt grows more confident. His fingers slip down, pressing between the folds of his sheath, pressing right down to the base of his cock and within. No one has touched him like this before, the sharp jab of a Siren's claws not conducive to pressing inside.

Something warm spreads through his chest and he finds himself pulling away, embarrassed by how vulnerable he suddenly feels letting a stranger touch him this way, a Witcher no less. Immediately, Geralt withdraws his hands and the look on his face implies worry.

"Sorry," he blurts, then softer, "tell me if it's too much."

"No, I just. No one's ever-"

"I'll stop."

"No," Jaskier says again, a little too abruptly. "No, it was good, it just... caught me off guard." Geralt doesn't wait to be told twice, but his fingers move more slowly as they slip back into place at the base of his cock. Jaskier gives a little thrust on encouragement and Geralt presses his palm against him, giving him something to rut against while he explores.

Jaskier rocks against him, burying his face in his arm as the need takes over. Given an inch, he's no longer able to control himself, so needy for it that he's invited a perfect stranger into his home to fuck him. But Geralt doesn't seem to mind his desperation, doesn't mention it. He picks up quickly on Jaskier's most sensitive spots, going back to rub over them, pressing his thumb beneath the swollen ring and Jaskier's mind goes blank with the pleasure of it.

He's never noticed how sensitive it is there; the use of hands in Siren coupling is rare and limited to squeezing and jerking, not prodding and rubbing like Geralt does so easily. It's hardly Jaskier's fault that he can't contain himself in the face of this new, wonderful sensation.

The swell of his climax creeps up on him slowly, his mind too preoccupied with where Geralt's fingers are and what they're doing. It's not until Geralt wraps around the base of him, pushing as far into his sheath as his fingers with reach, that Jaskier realizes how close he is. His hips jerk hard and Geralt's other hand shoots out to steady him, holding him close as Jaskier writhes against him.

There's not much else he can do like this, just squirm and try to press as much of his cock against Geralt's palm as he can. Otherwise, he's under Geralt's control, letting him do what he wants, take him apart as he will. Geralt's thumb presses along the underside of his cock, pressing up toward the tip and Jaskier jerks hard as his orgasm washes over him, spilling over Geralt's hand and up his arm.

His hips twitch, cocking slipping easily against Geralt's arm with his own spend to slick the way. He'd be embarrassed, coming so quickly with so little stimulation to anything but his cock, but Geralt hums, sounding very pleased.

He continues touching him, fingers slipping through his spend and using it as slick, rubbing down the full length of him and rubbing against the slit at the tip.

"Good?" he asks and Jaskier can only nod and whimper, still struggling to catch his breath.

Geralt leans in, pressing his nose into Jaskier's neck abruptly and Jaskier shifts onto his back to allow him better access. He likes the warmth of Geralt's breath on his neck, the soft press of his lips and the occasional flick of his tongue against his skin. Geralt says nothing as his kisses become firmer, pressing down the column of his throat and down his chest.

His hand remains on Jaskier's cock, stroking slowly as he kisses down the length of his body, not even pausing as pale skin gives way to shimmering scales. He seems unbothered by it and Jaskier likes the feeling of his lips on his tail. Geralt doesn't release his cock until he's moved fully down the length of Jaskier's body, straddling the end of his tail.

Geralt kisses around the base of his cock, not touching it but for the barest brush of his cheek as he passes. Jaskier holds his breath in anticipation, arching off the bed with each kiss that gets closer to where he wants it. When Geralt's lips finally press against him, he lets out a strangled groan and arches off the ground, hands immediately and automatically groping for Geralt's shoulder.

Geralt kisses up the length of him, teasing the tip with his tongue before moving back down again. Jaskier wants his mouth, wants to feel that wet heat around him, so different than the cool touch of one of his own kind. It wouldn't be the first time he's had a mouth around his cock, but he's used to sharp teeth, to slow and cautious strokes. When Geralt gets his mouth around him, he's anything but.

The moment Geralt's lips wrap around him, quick and eager, sliding his tongue over him and pressing his lips in close, holding him tight as he sinks right to the base. His tongue presses in where his fingers had been and Jaskier knows now that he likes exploring, likes discovering what makes Jaskier squirm and taking advantage of it. And he's incredibly good at it.

His fingers that had, up until now, been happily settled on his hips, push up to brush against his skin. One hand remains, seeking out the smallest part of his waist and settling in the dip as the other moves down again. Jaskier's foggy mind suggests that he intends to wrap around the base of his cock, but Geralt gets distracted somewhere between. His fingers pass over Jaskier’s slit and he pauses. Slowly, Gerlt lifts his head, licking up the length of Jaskier's cock and looking at the opening beneath his fingers.

"Can I?" he asks and Jaskier nods.

This is... new. He knows for women it can be pleasurable to be touched this way, but he's never had anyone do it to him. As a child, they told stories about men who fucked each other like this, the way they fuck women, but Jaskier had been young and naive and passed them off as nothing but stories. He'd never found anyone who wanted to touch him that way and had assumed, like most things children talk about, it was a rumour.

But Geralt's fingers tease the opening and sparks rush over his skin. Jaskier's cock throbs and he pushes himself up to watch. Geralt catches his eyes for a brief moment, before dropping back to his work and pushing inside.

"Oh," he breathes, "you're wet." Jaskier squirms, as his body gives way to Geralt's finger, quickly joined by a second.

As with everything, he moves slowly at first, pushing deep and rubbing into him. It feels good, much better than Jaskier could have expected and then Geralt bumps against something inside him and Jaskier cries out, digging his claws into Geralt's shoulder.

When he realizes what he's done, he releases him quickly, but Geralt seems unfazed and he's smiling when he meets Jaskier's eyes again.

"You like that?" he asks and Jaskier lets out a breathy, yes. Geralt grins at him and ducks down to wrap his lips around the tip of Jaskier's cock.

Geralt's fingers work in time with his mouth, picking up speed as Jaskier's groans become more frequent, less controlled. It doesn't take him long like this, with his cock slipping down Geralt's throat and Geralt's fingers constantly pressing against whatever that is inside him that feels so fucking good.

He comes with a gasp as Geralt thrusts up into him again and Geralt makes no attempt to keep him from pushing his cock deeper into his throat. If anything, he seems glad for it, and when Jaskier slumps back against the ground again, Geralt pulls off his cock with slow precision, careful to wrap his lips tightly around the head. Jaskier's eyes drop shut and his chest heaves, but he's aware of Geraly lying back down next to him.

"That felt... good."

"No one has ever touched you like this?" Geralt asks lightly. Jaskier waves a clawed hand at him in response. "Mmm, understandable. But you liked it?" Jaskier huffs a tired laugh and turns to face him.

"Very much."

"Can I?" Geralt asks, already sliding slick fingers along his waist.

"Please."

Geralt rises to his knees, straddling Jaskier's hips for a moment before dropping to the ground on the other side of him. He presses right up against him, slipping an arm under his neck and holding him close as his other hand presses flat against Jaskier's stomach, sliding downward. He crooks two fingers, pushing inside him and seeking out that same spot again.

He finds it with ease and when Jaskier jerks hard, Geralt pulls him in against his chest. He drops his forehead to Jaskier's, breathing hard against him and Jaskier shuts his eyes, letting the pleasure wash over him. Geralt thrusts into him, quick and precise, then slows to tease at the opening, fingers slipping slowly in and out, and Jaskier can't decide which he likes more.

When he's quick, it punches the breath out of him, leaves him mindless and aching for more, but then he slows, gently caresses and rubs into him and it's like a slow fire burning within him, gradually burning brighter. His mind goes blank, foggy with lust, and he wraps himself around Geralt's shoulders, drawing him close. Even with Jaskier wrapped around him, he never falters and before long Jaskier is writhing again, his tail slapping hard against the floor as pleasure courses through him.

He's overwhelmed, so entirely encompassed by pleasure that he can't do more than cling to Geralt and whimper until, at last, he comes, his cock untouched where it spurts over his hip.

Slick drips from his slit, mixing with his come and Geralt pulls out slowly, swiping his fingers through it and sliding them around Jaskier's cock. He cries out at the first touch, oversensitive from multiple consecutive orgasms, but it still feels good underneath the sensitivity and he can't bring himself to tell Geralt to stop.

When Geralt finally lets him go, Jaskier flops onto his back and stares up at him. Geralt is watching him, his eyes dark but bright, and he smiles. Unthinking, Jaskier reaches up, wrapping one hand around Geralt's cheek and tugging him down toward him. At the last second, he realizes what he's doing and hesitates, but Geralt closes the distance, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss.

It doesn't last long and Jaskier has to keep himself from nipping at his lips when they part. Geralt presses up close and for the first time, he feels the hard line of Geralt's cock beneath his trousers and it makes his breath catch. For a moment, he just stares at him, enthralled by the idea that Geralt is turned on by this.

"You're... aroused?" he asks and Geralt huffs a soft laugh.

"I'm fine."

"Could I touch you?"

"Mmm, if you like."

Jaskier grins, shifting onto his side and pushes Geralt over. He laughs and goes easily, watching as Jaskier spreads a hand over his chest. He maps out the planes of his chest, pushing clawed fingers through soft chest hair before dragging them lightly down toward the hem of his trousers.

He rakes his eyes over the jut of Geralt's cock, but doesn't touch, afraid of pushing too far. A favour, he reminds himself, Geralt is doing him a favour here. So he slips his hand back up to his stomach, mimicking the way Geralt touched him at first, exploring the little dips and rises in his skin, careful not to catch his claws.

And when he looks up to him again, Geralt is watching him. Something in the way he looks at him makes Jaskier's chest tight and he dips down again, catching Geralt's lips in a kiss. Geralt kisses back with enthusiasm, wrapping an arm around so he can pull Jaskier on top of him.

Both hands move down, cupping the swell of Jaskier's tail and rocking him slowly forward. Jaskier's cock, still sensitive, presses against Geralt's through the rough fabric of his trousers. He hisses at the drag, but Geralt moans at the friction and the sound goes straight through him. This time, Jaskier does it on purpose.

They find an easy rhythm between the two of them and even with Geralt's trousers in the way, the sensitivity soon gives way to pleasure and Jaskier ruts against him, kissing him hard despite the lingering fear that he'll bite too hard. Geralt however, seems unconcerned. He's got one hand buried in Jaskier's hair, the other pressing between them, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers. It takes him a moment, but he gets them undone, finally pulling his cock free and Jaskier groans as he ruts against him.

Geralt is hot, his cock even more so, and Jaskier basks in the warmth, pressing himself closer, even with Geralt’s hand still between them. He's sure he could come just like this, happy to rut against him, but then Geralt's fingers are pressing against his slit again. His fingers come away slick and he winds his hand around Jaskier's cock, stroking him slowly.

"What do you need?" he asks and Jaskier whimpers.

"What you did before," he breathes, "could you... do that again?" In an instant, Geralt flips him onto his back again, dragging his fingers up to his slit, but Jaskier stops him. "Could you... with your cock?"

"Oh. Fuck, yeah."

Geralt shifts, pushing his trousers down and kicking them off before pressing up close again. He pulls Jaskier into a deep kiss, his hand sliding away to bring his hips closer. He ruts against him, pushing through the slick and come and when he catches on Jaskier's slit, Jaskier lets out a little gasp and grasps at Geralt's shoulders.

Geralt pushes forward pressing into him and Jaskier holds his breath as he stretches open on his cock. Geralt's eyelids flutter as he settles and then he rocks forward, slowly at first, just short little thrusts that leave Jaskier aching, pushing himself onto him, wanting more.

And Geralt gives it to him. He sinks deep, hooking a knee over Jaskier's hip to hold him close as he ruts, his cock pressed firmly against that spot that makes him wild. Jaskier bucks and whines, his own cock slipping against Geralt's with every thrust. He delights in the feeling of Gerslt inside him, of his warmth and the stretch of his cock, sliding into him and filling him wholly.

He's surprised to find Geralt as breathless as he is when he looks up at him and he can't help but tip forward and nip at his lower lip. Geralt groans and kisses him hard. He pushes him onto his back so he's straddling his hips and when he sits back, Jaskier's cock presses between his cheeks.

He rocks his hips, suddenly overwhelmed by the heat around his cock and Geralt shudders as he pushes back against him. His eyes flick up to Jaskier's and he licks his lips.

"Can I try something?" he asks and Jask nods enthusiastically.

Geralt withdraws immediately, pressing his fingers into Jaskier's slit. When he withdraws, he reaches behind himself, and Jaskier burns to know what he's doing, but the slick fingers wrap around his cock, and Geralt sits back on him. Jaskier groans low as Geralt's body engulfs him, heat seeping into every inch where they touch and he reaches out, fingers digging into his thighs, so careful not to leave scratches.

Geralt rocks back onto him, taking the full length of Jaskier's cock and grinding back against him. He rolls his hips and squeezes around him, pulling right up to the tip before dropping back down the length on him. Jaskier is breathless, helpless to do anything but squeeze Geralt's thighs and bite his own lip.

Tentatively, he wraps one hand around Geralt's cock, slipping webbed fingers over the head of his cock. Geralt moans softly, sliding one hand over Jaskier's and guiding it down. Jaskier nearly stops breathing as the head of Geralt's cock nudges against his slit and then he's sliding in again, filling him up even as he squeezes around Jaskier's cock.

It's so much. Jaskier's body sings with the twin pleasures of being filled so wholly and sinking into Geralt himself as he shifts his hips up.

"Fuck" he groans and Geralt drapes himself over his chest, kissing the moan from his lips.

He finds a rhythm, a careful balance that keeps them joined in both places and Jaskier has never felt such overwhelming pleasure in his life. He meets Geralt's thrusts, thrusting in deep as Geralt sinks into him and it's hardly surprising when he finds himself creeping close to the edge. Geralt's thighs shake around him and he wants to hold out, to make Geralt comes first, but Geralt reaches up, nipping at the sensitive skin over his throat and the pleasure that zips through him is too much.

His hips snap up hard and Geralt kisses him through it, deep and hard, his whole body arching against him. He follows shortly, burying himself deep in Jaskier's body and rutting into him urgently. The moans and pleas that drop from his lips do nothing to ease Jaskier's persistent erection, but as Geralt slumps against him, Jaskier feels the exhaustion creeping in.

Geralt, too, seems tired and Jaskier withdraws reluctantly, mourning the loss of Geralt's body around him. His cock remains stubbornly hard, still unsheathed, but the aching desperation wore off some time ago and he flings himself into the water, quickly rubbing himself down to prevent waking up sticky and uncomfortable. A moment later there's a splash as Geralt rolls off the ledge next to him.

He swims closer enough for Jaskier to reach him and he makes a point of wiping Geralt down first before wrapping a hand around his cock and sliding slowly. Geralt's eyes drop shut and he winds his arms around Jaskier's neck with a soft, shuddering moan.

"How long does this usually last?" he asks and Jaskier shrugs.

"Anywhere from a week to six."

Geralt gawks at him. "Six weeks?"

"On and off," Jaskier huffs, amused. "I don't swim around with an exposed prick for six weeks. And besides. It's usually two, though it is much more in much more... concentrated bursts."

"Meaning I should stick around?"

Jaskier's heart thuds heavily at the suggestion which is, realistically, ridiculous. He's known Geralt for all of a few hours and under normal circumstances, the man would have just killed him. But the idea of keeping him close spreads warmth through his chest.

"You don't have to," he says anyway. "You kept up your end of the deal. I'll be quiet."

"Mmm," Geralt agrees, nosing at his neck, "but it'll get bad again. What would you do with no one here to get you through it."

"Are you..." Jaskier starts, hesitant. "Are you saying you want to stay?"

"Maybe not exactly here," Geralt shrugs, "I'd appreciate being warm and dry part of the time. But I don't intend to go far. Maybe I'll camp out on the beach."

"Will you stay for now?" Jaskier asks hopefully.

"Yes."

Jaskier doesn’t acknowledge the way his heart clenches a little. He shouldn’t want Geralt to stay, shouldn’t care what he does with himself now that he’s fulfilled his end of the bargain, but as they finish cleaning up, he seems happy to be there.

Once they're both clean and Geralt has managed to pull another orgasm from him, they settle on the ground, Jaskier curled up around him. His cock rests perfectly against the cleft of Geralt's ass and he has to be careful not to move too much, lest he work himself up again. He spreads one wing out over Geralt, using it as well as he can to keep him warm.

“You should go back,” Geralt says quietly and if Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d say he sounded almost disappointed, “leave here and find more of your kind so you don’t have to suffer alone next time.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Jaskier admits, “but I like it here.”

“Mm,” Geralt hums sleepily, “guess I’ll just have to come back then, hm?”

Five years later…

The need returns, just as it always does, creeping up slowly and then hitting him all at once, but this time it's worse. This time he has the memory of his Witcher, soft and sweet touching him and kissing him and working him through it. And the memory only serves to make the need stronger.

But he made a promise.

So Jaskier holes himself up in his cave and deals with it as well as he can on his own and when that quits working on the first day, Jaskier swims to the surface in the hopes of coming across some other passer-by who might be willing to risk their life to fuck a Siren.

But when he breaches the surface of the water, there's a figure on the beach, moving oddly. He keeps low in the water, just his head breaking the surface and when he gets closer he realizes it's a man taking off his boots. It takes a couple of seconds to register as the man strips completely naked, but as he gets closer, as Jaskier swims further, he recognizes him. There's a swell of something warm and pleasant that settles in his chest and his heart beats just a fraction too quickly.

Geralt came back for him.

#geraskier #siren #monster march #spicy #nsft #rex writes

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willowcrowned · 4 years ago

Note

kit fisto carpet artisan

thank you for reminding me.

So, the important part of the Kit Fisto carpet artisan au is that he leaves the Order to make carpets. The going theory among the jedi is that he had an uncle on Coruscant that left him a carpet shop and he decided to stop being a Jedi to carry on the dying trade, but no one knows but him, and he’s not telling. He also takes Nahdar, his padawan, with him. If Nahdar knows why Kit left, he’s not telling anyone either.

So by the time Anakin is sixteen or so, Kit Fisto, ex-jedi and carpet maker extraordinaire, has a bustling business just outside the senate district— close enough for any of the Jedi to visit. And oh boy do they visit.

Typically, when someone leaves the Order, it’s something only spoken about in hushed tones. There’s no gossip, nor speculation, because Jedi don’t gossip, and besides, they usually already have the reason— while no one is obligated to give a reason for leaving, it’s considered polite to do so. It’s not... dishonorable to leave, but a certain distance inevitably develops. Once someone leaves the jedi, they’re leading a completely different life, and most leave Coruscant entirely.

Kit Fisto is not typical. There’s no warning— not a single inkling that he might be considering leaving the Jedi. One day, he walks into a High Council meeting, declares politely that he’s leaving and taking Nahdar with him, and tells them all they’re welcome to visit him at his new address. (He also makes a point of leaving several of his belongings in his apartment, to give the more decorous members of the Order an excuse to visit.)

Come Monday, Yoda is on his doorstep, probing for answers. Kit does not give them, but he does give Yoda a tour and some tea. When Yoda comes back, cackling and pleased, everyone else takes this as the go-ahead to visit. The jedi visit regularly— only when he’s closed, and only when he has time, but they do come.

This is where the fun begins.

Anakin Skywalker, seventeen years old, very moody and very angry, has an appointment with Palpatine. Anakin Skywalker, seventeen years old, very moody and very angry, has been banned by Obi-Wan from using any speeders, bikes or otherwise, by an exhausted Obi-Wan. (Nominally, it’s because he started a fight in the salles two days ago, but if it keeps him from seeing Palpatine, then so much the better.) (Anakin knows what Obi-Wan is doing, and is furious about it. While perhaps justified, this does not help his case.) So what does Anakin do? He makes his own speeder from old parts. (If he’d thought to call Palpatine, the man would have sent a car for him, but since last time that happened he got a two lecture from both Windu and Obi-Wan, so he’ll just have to be sneaky.)

The problem with speeders cobbled together from old parts is that they have a tendency to break down, usually at the most inopportune moments. For Anakin, this is on the edge of the Senate district, since he was taking a circuitous route to see Palpatine in the hopes of avoiding anyone else he knows. Fortunately, Kit’s shop is nearby, and he’s been with Obi-Wan enough times to know the way.

Anakin walks into Kit’s Artisan Carpets, sopping wet from the rain that just started and looking like nothing so much as a wet kitten. Kit, who has all the grace and wisdom of a jedi master, does not tell him this, and instead offers him a towel and the use of his speeder when Nahdar gets back. In the meantime, he offers, would Anakin like to come see his workshop?

Now, keeping in mind that I know nothing about carpet making, and even less about artisan carpet making, I’m going to say that Kit shows Anakin how to do something simple that’s carpet related. And Anakin likes it. Anakin really likes it. He already loves working with his hands, but this is different. There’s no thinking involved, nothing but the repetitive movement of his hands. Normally, he hates being quiet, being still, but he’s so cold and tired that he’s able to just... drop into a trance. Before he knows it, it’s three hours later and he’s missed the meeting with Palpatine entirely.

Kit sends him back to the Jedi Temple more relaxed than he’s ever been, finally having been able to achieve a meditative state, and with an invitation to come back and help again whenever he’s nearby. When he gets back, Obi-Wan is amazed at how calm Anakin is, and forgets to lecture him on leaving the temple. Anakin does his homework, goes to bed, and when he wakes up, he doesn’t feel so awful.

The next time he comes back from Palpatine’s, riled up and wanting to scream, he stops by Kit’s shop and helps out with some repetitive carpet-related task. The dull motion helps lets his mind wander, but not too far— lets him be still without his brain beginning to scream. For the first time, Anakin is able to meditate without trauma flashbacks or overwhelming, near-painful understimulation.

Once again, he comes back to the Temple calm and slightly better balanced, once again, Obi-Wan doesn’t lecture him. The pattern continues.

Cut to two years later, when Anakin is having nightmares about his mother. Helping out in Kit’s shop lets him meditate on the visions, and Kit has been, well, really great to talk to about attachment. Palpatine is nice and all, but he doesn’t really get the Jedi— has never understood Anakin’s desire to be one. Kit, who knows what is like and is still more Jedi than most Jedi, in Anakin’s private opinion, does.

Kit talks him through visions, helps him articulate his fears, and sends him to communicate with Obi-Wan. When Anakin says that he’s having visions— not just dreams, but solid visions— Obi-Wan promptly requests a sabbatical, and they go to Tatooine.

Obi-Wan helps him rescue Shmi from the Tuskens, and since Shmi is still alive, Anakin has something to focus on instead of his own rage. No Tuskens get murdered— hell, Anakin is so worried about his mom it doesn’t even occur to him to go kill them until after she’s safe. By that point, he’s not in the thick of the moment, so he has time to imagine slaughtering every single one of them before he does it. He thinks of how good it would feel, yes, but also of the screams, of the feeling of their dying minds against his own, and recoils.

When they get back to Coruscant, new fence installed and comm numbers exchanged, Palpatine’s plan is ruined— Amidala already has a jedi protector, no one knows what to do with the dart, and Anakin is much more well balanced now that he’s seen his mother, knows she’s safe, and she’s talked him through his emotions in a way that Obi-Wan can’t.

Does Palpatine give up on Anakin as a lost cause? Absolutely not. He does, however, adjust the plan, leaving an even more obvious trail to Kamino. Obi-Wan still ends up on Geonosis, only this time Anakin is there too, and Padmé isn’t. And, here’s the kicker— neither of them managed to get the message to the Jedi Council, so they’re stuck in their little rotating columns while Dooku stalks around and lies blatantly, waiting for them to be rescued and for the war to start. But the rescue never comes.

After the fourth or fifth day of this, Dooku realizes that if Palpatine managed to mess up such a simple plan, it might not be a good idea to follow his orders. He defects, exchanging everything he knows (which is quite a lot) for amnesty. Obi-Wan agrees to the trade, and the three of them escape Geonosis to go face down Palpatine.

Anakin is predictably furious about this. He doesn’t believe Dooku, of course, and he’s raring to kill the guy, but he’s also pretty sure he can’t take on both Obi-Wan and Dooku and win, so he waits until they get to Coruscant to comm the council. (Dooku lets him do it. The backup will be useful and he thinks he can time it so Sidious is throwing Force lightning at them when Yoda shows up.) (He can totally time it right.)

Yoda shows up just as Palpatine whips out a red lightsaber, since Dooku went straight for the beheading without letting him talk, and Obi-Wan was holding Anakin back to see what would happen. Palpatine could have beaten each of them on their own, probably even two at once, provided Dooku and Yoda didn’t team up— but against Anakin, who could probably vaporize someone with his mind if he tried hard enough, Yoda, who’s seven hundred years old and still wins the jedi parkour championships every year, Dooku, who’s the best duelist the Order has seen in a long while, and Obi-Wan, who, while not space jesus, a prodigy, or seven hundred years old, is no slouch in any jedi department, especially the ones that involve keeping Anakin from doing anything stupid? Yeah, Palpatine loses.

They all stumble into Kit’s Artisan Carpets an hour later, smelling of ozone and repressed emotions just waiting to come out. Kit looks at them all, makes a pot of tea, settles Anakin at his usual carpet-task doing place for some much needed meditation, and locks them in the room to talk.

“So,” Dooku says to Kit the next morning, once they’ve sorted all the politics and some of the emotions out, “what possessed you to take up carpets?”

Kit tilts his head, considering, and answers. “I just felt like it.”

(”Really?” Nahdar asks later. “You’re not going to tell them?”

“Well,” Kit replies, “would they believe me?”

“I guess not,” Nahdar says, “but time travel is hard to believe in.”

“It was more of a vision, really.” Kit huffs. “Besides, I did feel like it. Getting stabbed gives one new priorities.”

“Tell me about it,” Nahdar agrees. “Tell me about it.”)

#this happened because of that one post where a bot took over the kitfisto url to sell carpets #and apparently that concept was an irresistible temptation for me #that likely surprises no one but me #star wars #star wars au #kit fisto: carpet artisan au #willow's aus #kit fisto #star wars fix it au #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #count dooku

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