#(says the one who’s probably too in the middle of nowhere to be able to use them)
Text
Who do you belong to?
Relationships : Sevika x Reader
Characters : Sevika, Original Female Character
Tags : Smut, Fluff and Smut, Strap-Ons, Vibrators. Rough Sex, BDSM, Rope Bondage, Blindfolds, Gags, Dom/sub, Begging, Edgeplay, Orgasm Delay, Sadism, Jealousy, Possessive Sex, Consensual Sex, Safewords, Aftercare, Dom Sevika, Soft Sevika
Words : 5,076
Summary:
What about a jealous Sevika punishing you?
**********
Congratulations, you were bound to fuck up eventually.
And now you were getting what you deserved.
Unable to move because of the ropes, to see because of the blindfold, to speak because of your panties, to hear because of the heartbeat in your head. Only able to- No. Forced to feel.
**********
It was innocent, really. She was just a friend you helped out with her store and she offered to buy you a drink to return the favor. But Sevika didn't take it well.
You two were enjoying a well deserved drink at The Last Drop, sitting in your usual booth, when you spotted your friend and went over for a quick chat. Then she bought you a drink, caught you up with her news, stroked your arm and thanked you for your help, hugged you tightly for goodbye, squeezed your hand, gave you a compliment, you laughed and went on your way back to Sevika.
And only then you caught the look on her face. You could feel her burning a hole through you. That wasn't good. You hurried your step towards her until you reached the booth and sat beside her.
"What's wrong?" you asked.
She only looked angrily at you before she averted her gaze to the bar. You followed her eyes to the object that caught her wrath. To your good friend. Oh no.
"I just helped her out at her store, she's the mechanic I told you about. She wanted to thank me." you tried hurriedly to explain.
"Really? And in what capacity she wanted to thank you?" She returned her eyes to look at you and you shivered at their intensity.
"Sevika, please, it's really nothing."
"And she must be really funny, too."
You held your breath, not wanting to say anything about the compliment, lest you provoke her further.
"I think we should go home." She told you, and you saw her face getting closer to yours.
"It's been a while since I reminded you who you belong to." She whispered in your ear.
A loud exhale left your lips at her hushed tone. You knew what you got yourself into. A feeling of excitement rushed through you, but you knew that entailed a sort of excruciating punishment on her part.
**********
Well, you must have messed up more than you thought.
You've never been in the predicament you are in now.
Trembling and nowhere to run to escape her onslaught.
**********
She was silent all the way to your home, and as soon as you crossed the doorway, she turned around to lock the door and gave you just one order.
"Go to the bedroom and strip."
You obeyed and tried to take in a steady breath to calm your nerves as you made your way to your bedroom. As soon as you got naked you stayed put in the spot in the middle of the room with your eyes glued to the door, expectantly looking, heartbeat increasing with each passing second. For a minute you thought that this was your punishment, that she had gone and forgot about you, but that was too easy. Her punishments were more sinister than that. You knew.
You heard her before you saw her, her booted footsteps echoing down the hall and coming your way. And then she went through your bedroom door. Still dressed. Still looking angry. A fairly long rope hanging from her hand, considering the many loops it was forming.
"On the bed." She commanded again.
She followed you as you made your way wordlessly to lay on the bed. You refrained from completely laying down, instead your elbows behind you supported your weight, as she towered over you at the side of the bed, looking between you and the headboard, thinking. You wondered for a moment what could be going on in her mind, but probably you'll find out soon enough, for better of for worse.
Then she got to work.
She secured a piece of the rope around the bedpost behind you, before she opened a palm towards you expectantly and you offered her your hand. She immediately began tying you to the bed, rope going taut. She forewent the silk padding this time. Fuck. She was pretty mad. She repeated the process with your other hand on the other side of the bed. You gave an experimental tug but nothing budged and the feeling of excitement overwhelmed you again.
"Spread 'em."
That was your only warning, before rough hands forced your thighs apart and two fingers glided harshly through your folds, gathering the slick that was undoubtedly there, and a loud gasp left your mouth at the sudden groping.
"She got you this wet from just a hug, huh?" She spat while holding her fingers up for both of you to see them glistening with arousal.
"No, baby, please, it's not..."
"Silence."
She cut you off, as she wiped her fingers on your spread thigh and went to the middle of the room, bent down to pick up something and returned to you. She pushed a cloth to your mouth, forcing you to open up and pretty quickly you understood that it was your discarded panties. You could taste yourself. Maybe your walk home wasn't accompanied by your purest thoughts.
"That would shut you up. I don't need pathetic excuses from you."
She picked another piece of the rope to continue with her work. This time she secured it at the side of the bed and grabbed your leg to wrap the other end of the rope around your knee, and pulled the rope taut until your knee was bend, thigh open and flat on the mattress. For a moment you thought that she would get up to go around for the other leg, but she fished out another piece of rope and this time she secured it around your ankle and to the same side of the bed, to keep it in placed, denying you more freedom. Then she got up to repeat the same process with your other leg. After she finished her task you gave another tug to test the ropes holding your knees and ankles down. Another failed attempt for movement. Fuck. You felt so open and exposed, and your heartbeat was skyrocketing.
You tried to see how much movement you were allowed. Your shoulders and hips were free to twist a bit and your back could arch a little and lift off the mattress. Okay, you could work with that to alleviate a bit of stress off your muscles.
"No, we can't have that."
Her threatening voice cut through the air, but when you turned your head at her direction you caught a smirk at her lips. That made it worse somehow. She picked the rope again and secured two pieces at one side of the bed and tossed them over your torso. Fucking hell. She rounded the bed and pulled the one piece tightly over your lower stomach, below your belly button and she began to secure the other just below your chest, over your ribs, until she stilled herself. She hummed and moved the rope over your chest, over your nipples. You released a muffled gasp at the rough texture over your sensitive dark buds as she pulled the rope a little tighter this time.
"This seems enough... for now."
Damn, her voice. You closed your eyes and exhaled to calm yourself. You were definitely dripping by this time.
A noise caught your attention, and you opened your eyes to inspect, only to find Sevika undressing with no care in the world, her side to you, standing in the middle of the room. She made her way to your dresser and opened the first drawer. Fuck, it was her strap drawer. She pulled out her harness and a black rippled dildo. You don't think she used it on you yet. It just appeared one day in the drawer. Curiosity got the better of you and tried to muffle a question.
"What was that?"
"Ah this?"
"You'll see."
"Or..."
"I don't think you deserved to look at me tonight."
She opened the second drawer, picked a blindfold and walked over to you, with the harness strapped around her and the black dildo in her other hand. A naked goddess before you, and you could only look at her, captivated. Until she put the blindfold over your eyes. You tried a muffled protest and a shake of your head but that only earned you a hard smack on the inside of your spread thigh. You shook at the pain and your nipples burned as the rope slightly moved over them. But that was enough to add to your muffled squeal.
"You don't get to make demands after the shit you pulled at the bar."
You tried to still yourself, lest to get overstimulated by the rope on your chest. A few seconds passed before you felt the mattress shift and a heavy weight settling between your legs. Your spread, open legs, between your exposed, wet, throbbing pussy. You felt metal and flesh hands pushing down on your thighs and stroking them, checking the ropes, gripping them hard, and then a warm finger, roughly tracing between your folds, spreading them. The warm sensation glided down towards your entrance circling and collecting the moisture that had gathered there, before gliding upwards all the way to your clit and pushing down. Hard. She kept the pressure there and your legs quivered, tied in placed, to no end.
"Look at you. The bitch got you wet enough for my cock."
No. It's you. Only you. I'm only wet for you.
"But, I don't think I'll give it to you."
Please, I need only you.
"But, maybe I can get you wetter. Make you forget all about her. That'll teach you letting others touch you."
Only you...
Suddenly the pressure disappeared, only to return at your entrance, as two thick warm fingers forced their way inside you. You tried to move your hips at the intrusion, but the rope held you in place and metal fingers dug in your hip. You shuddered at the pain and the pleasure that consumed you as she curled her fingers without giving you any time to recover and you muffled a scream.
"You're so tight. Do you think her dick is enough for you? Do you think she can fill you like I do?"
Just as they came, her fingers left, the pressure disappearing once again and you exhaled in relief and disappointment. And then you felt what could only be her strap at your entrance, just resting there, with you unable to move. Move towards it or away from it, you weren't sure. Another shift of the mattress. This time on either side of your chest and you felt a presence above you, before soft breasts, perked nipples and hardened stomach lit a fire where they touched your skin, then a breath tickling your cheek, a soft kiss and a whispered voice much different from before.
"Snap for me, beautiful."
The fog of your brain cleared, and your attention went to your hands, fingers clenched in tight fists unbeknownst to you. You relaxed your hands, let them hung as you took in a breath, steadying yourself, and felt another calm breath on your cheek, Sevika patiently waiting for you.
One snap. All good.
As soon as you snapped your fingers, you heard an amused hum above you and felt pressure between your legs as the strap began sliding inside you. Fuck. She kept going. Fuck, fuck! Was she going to slide all the way in one thrust? Fuck, apparently she was. And you couldn't do anything but just stay there and take it. You instinctively arched your back, trying to push up at her, but the rope rubbed on your nipples, adding to the forced stimulation she was providing.
You were bombarded from everywhere. The stretch of your pussy, the friction on your breasts, the presence above you, Sevika's breath hitting your face, her skin burning yours. You trembled in place, hands back in tight fists, eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold, teeth biting hard on the panties in your mouth, a reverberate from your throat.
"Seems to me that you know that you deserve this."
"That you deserve your punishment."
"And maybe, if you learn your lesson, you get to come."
The sadist. Always had something to say and torment you while bottomed out inside your pussy.
She adjusted above you. You could no longer feel her breath on your face or her body against yours, but she didn't move. Her hands still on either side of you. She stayed over you, probably watching you lay there helpless, fueling her power trip with smirk on her face. The next moment the mattress shifted, and you felt a hand splayed on your stomach and moving up towards your breasts. The hand made its way to the rope on your chest and pulled it down, inevitably rubbing it on your nipples, and let it rest just under your breasts, over your ribs, where she first intended to put it. A relieved breath left your nose, only to be replaced by a sense of dread of what was her next step, which in turn made your walls flutter and clench around her strap.
You were right to be afraid, as sharp teeth wrapped around your overstimulated nipple and bit down, making you whimper. The changed position of the rope allowed you to move your upper torso, so you tried to pull away, but her teeth only clamped down harder, forcing you to still your movements, since that was the only way for the stimulation to pass. She only ever left you with impasses. You should know better before you tried and pulled away. So you forced yourself to calm down and accept the force of her bite.
"Well at least you know how to behave." She teased as she released your nipple and soothed it with a stroke of her tongue.
She moved to deliver a bite to your other breast and you being a good girl lay there and took it, letting her have her fill however she liked. You heard a pleased hum above you, after another stroke of her tongue to your bitten nipple. The pleasure made you once again clench around her strap that was momentarily forgotten due to her onslaught on your breasts.
"Do you think she could make you behave like I do?" She whispered, her breath cooling your wet nipple.
"I think she is weak."
"Wouldn't even fuck you right."
Only you...
You tried a muffle, and a deep breath without the fear of the rope rubbing over your nipples.
"Maybe you forgot how a good fuck feels."
"Maybe I should remind you."
"But you need to be punished first."
In the span of two seconds she pulled out abruptly only to ram back inside you in a powerful thrust, making you scream through your panties and tears to escape your tightly closed eyes. You expected that she would keep going, but she stilled after that one thrust. That was somehow more scary than if she started with a brutal pace.
"I think I now what your punishment will be."
Another powerful thrust. Another futile attempt from you to move. You only clenched at the stretch and moaned a scream.
"Don't forget, I now what you need to come."
Another powerful thrust, before she stilled again and the presence above you disappeared. But never left. The strap was still inside you when you felt hands gripping your thighs, pretty sure she could feel them tremble. A moment passed, as you tried to steady your ragged breaths that her torturous thrusts inflicted. A warm finger returned to your folds, stroking around the strap, pushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting soft moans from you.
"So open for me..."
"And only I get to see it, right?"
"You would never let her see you like this, right?"
"Or else..."
Suddenly, the strap inside you came to life and you jerked. The vibration was constant and the strap stayed still as Sevika remained a rock between your legs, probably seeing your folds moving with the rhythm of the vibrations, a smirk on her face and lust in her eyes. Once again, you tried to close your legs but the ropes held them in place. You where at her mercy, and without a voice to plead for her to allow you your relief. As she said, she knew what you needed to come, and what she was giving you wasn't it. Fuck. It was punishment indeed. Being so close to the edge but never falling over it.
Something clicked and the intensity of the vibrations demanded more of your overstimulated walls and you wailed. To add more to your predicament, the ropes dug further into your skin as you involuntary pulled harder, forcibly reminding you of your helplessness and you whimpered.
An unexpected turn of events occurred, as you felt the cloth is your mouth being pulled away from you.
"Do you have anything to say?"
"Pl.. Please... It's not... enough..." You could only beg and pant between your whimpers and gasps.
"It's not supposed to be enough." You were so wound up and as a reflex you rolled your head back and pressed hard where it was resting on the pillow. It was the only part of your body under your control and you couldn't even control it. So it stayed there, leaving your neck an offer of submission to her.
"I ne-eed to come, p-please!" You felt a hot breath on you neck, a wet tongue licking a path from your throat to your ear and you forgot how to breathe, only to be reminded by the overwhelming stimulation between your legs a second later and you exhaled a gasp.
"Why should you?" You know she doesn't care what you need right now. This is a punishment and you are at her mercy.
Another click. You could hear the buzzing and the squelching of the strap against your wet walls. It was almost enough to feel it at your clit. Almost. You gasped freely now without the gag and heavy ragged breaths kept leaving your open mouth, chest moving up and down. You were feeling like you were about to explode.
"P-Please... So close..." Pain and pleasure consuming you, overstimulation getting the better of you.
"Do you need this?" A hard thrust of her hips, forcing you to move up the bed, despite being tied up.
"Ugh, yes..." You cried a moan.
"Or maybe this?" A firm circle with her thumb on your clit.
"Y-yes, please..." Your body shook with her rough treatment on your sensitive bundle of nerves.
"How about this?" A thrust of her hips accompanied her stroking thumb on your clit.
You howled a cry and felt yourself getting closer to the edge. But as soon as she moved, she stilled once again, only the vibration of her strap left in its place deep inside you to keep up with its torture.
"Baby, p-please, let me come..."
"Do you think you deserve it?"
"P-Please... Yours..."
You must've said something right because suddenly everything stopped, the vibrations ceased and you felt it slightly move as she towered over you, both hands once again on either side of you. Her body was touching yours again and you could feel her sweat mingling with yours. Once again you tried to calm yourself, before she removed your blindfold. You blinked up at her, trying to adjust to the change in light, your eyes and cheeks wet by tears. You felt a warm calloused hand on your cheek, a thumb collecting the tears away. You hummed at the movement and closed your eyes.
"Sevika..."
"Did you learn your lesson?"
"P-please..."
"Answer me. Did you learn your lesson?" A hard, demanding grind against your throbbing center and you choked.
"Y-yes... Please..."
"And who do you belong to?"
"You... Only you..."
"Do you think anyone else can fuck you like I do?"
"No, no one... only you... I'm yours, baby, please..."
"Hmm, then I'll take what is mine."
She gave you no warning before sitting up once again, setting the strap on its highest setting and starting a brutal pace pistoning her hips. You howled at the sudden stimulation, at the friction the strap was providing, the maddening spot she was hitting within you and at the vibrations only adding to the sensations. Then metal and flesh hands gripped you hard by the hips to bring you harder against her with every thrust, and also to stop you from moving up the bed because of the force of her movements. You would be lying if you said that her show of strength didn't add to the wetness between your legs.
You began shaking again, trying to pull the ropes to free yourself, to wrap your legs around her waist to pull her in deeper, to circle your arms over her strong shoulders and feel the muscles under your fingers. But you should know better. This was a punishment after all, despite the fact that she was getting you closer to the edge. Sevika wanted you unmoving and you could do nothing about it. The thought of her owning you in such a way made you clench hard around the strap stretching you.
"P-please... So close... Only yours..."
"That's right, take it and come for me. I want my orgasm, baby." She was panting, her hips keeping up with the speed she set, not even faltering.
You were clenching, panting, moaning, gasping, trembling, unable to thrash, only managing to make the ropes dig further into your skin. You were so close and you both could feel it, see it and hear it. And finally a hard pressure of a thumb on your clit was all it took to push you over, and you crashed. A shiver rippled through you, all over your body, a silent scream left your lungs, your muscles on your stomach clenched, your tied arms and legs pulled harder on the ropes, the waves of pleasure never ending as she fucked you through your orgasm -no, it was hers and you were gladly giving it to her, or letting her take it- prolonging it, milking every bit of it, only turning off the vibrations and slowing down her pistoning when your breaths started to come down.
Her movements stopped and she once again towered over you. Her face close to yours when you finally opened your eyes, when the fog in your mind cleared enough for you to focus. She was looking intently at you, before leaning down to claim your mouth in a bruising kiss, demanding access to your mouth with her tongue, which you obediently granted. You were hers after all. Lost in the kissing and her soft lips you gasped in her mouth when she squeezed a breast and abruptly pulled out of you, chuckling at your reaction. The asshole.
She stood up after a kiss on your cheek, and with her metal hand started cutting away all the ropes and you let your arms and legs collapse on the mattress with a hiss. Glancing at the throbbing redness on your skin you huffed a curse. And then Sevika was once again on you, kissing you softly this time, in contrast with her roughness only a minute ago. She kissed your lips, your cheeks, your closed eyes, she kissed your dried tears, before gathering your hand with her own and kissing at the red bruises there. You hummed at her gentle motions and just lay there and let her do whatever she wanted. She kissed your other hand and wrist, your chest, a few light kisses on your sensitive nipples, on the marks the rope caused on your lower stomach, your knees and ankles, before coming back up to face you.
"You okay, baby?" She took a hand in hers, gave it a gentle kiss and traced her thumb over your knuckles.
"Hmm..."
"So, do you think you will remember what you learned tonight?"
You opened your eyes to see her smirk, mirthful eyes looking back at yours, and you huffed a chuckle.
"Only yours." You whispered with an exhale and closed your eyes again as you lightly squeezed her hand.
"Good girl. Now let me take care of you, beautiful."
She picked you up in her strong arms and carried you to the bathroom, water already filling the tub. You're not even sure when she managed to get the water running. You're not complaining though. You relaxed even at the thought of the pampering she had in store for you. As she always had before. Your heart always swelled at the gentleness that followed your every scene.
Maybe you should let your friend buy you another drink some other time, if that's what would be waiting for you afterwards.
Maybe you loved your sadist girlfriend and her punishments.
**********
"She said your delivery has arrived." You mumble, on the verge of sleep.
"Yeah, I know, she told me, too. That's what you're talking about at the bar?" She responds as she's getting out of the tub, after she helped you clean up.
"Among other things." You hear her shuffling and rummaging around the bathroom.
"Hmm" You can hear her ruffling with a towel, drying herself up, the gentle sounds tingling your senses.
"She liked my jeans, too." You add a little more mischief in your voice so she doesn't doubt that she caught it.
"I see." Her playful tone doesn't escape you as she picks up the nearby stool.
**********
She's behind you for what feels like forever, sitting on the stool and kneading every muscle on your back she can reach. You're sitting in the water, proped up with your back against the side of the bathtub, head down, hands resting palm-up at your sides and legs sprawled in front of you, occasionally feeling droplets fall on your shoulders from her wet hair.
"How you feeling, baby?" She asks as she's massaging the back of your neck with firm fingers.
"Mmm..." You're relaxed out of your fucking mind and she chuckles.
A few minutes pass with her keeping massaging you and you're melting under her touch.
"Was it too much?" Her sudden words would lull you further into a near-sleep state with how soft she spoke them, but the concern behind her voice does exactly the opposite and your ability to think comes back to you as you sit a little straighter in the tub.
"What?"
"Tonight... Was it okay?"
"Baby, it was more than okay. But I would prefer that we wait before repeating that." You slightly turn your head just so she can see the smile on your face and you hope it can ease her mind.
It's true, you really enjoyed tonight, maybe a little too much, and you've done similar stuff before with her rough-fucking you into oblivion, so you're a little unsure why she's checking in with you again, not that you mind. You love your girlfriend and her soft heart, even more so that she only let's you to see it. But you would be lying if you said that her possessiveness tonight didn't turn you on.
"You sure? You know I only did it for fun, right? I wasn't jeal-"
"Sevika." You cut her off.
You hear her exhale, stopping her rambling and clearly waiting for you to say what you have to say, her hands never halting their motions over the top of your back and shoulders and you try to choose your words carefully now that you now what her concern is.
"Baby, it's fine, I promise. Yes, it was new and unexpected, but I really, really enjoyed it. Trust me, if I didn't I would've told you, right?"
"Yeah, yeah..."
"Besides, we've done some hardcore stuff before." You turn abruptly to face her, inevitably splashing water everywhere on the wall, the floor, on her, and you give her the naughtiest smirk as you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively.
She looks back at you, hands hovering in front of her naked frame due to your sudden movement, mouth agape, an adorable dumbstruck look on her face and you would swear you fall in love with her all over again. A few seconds pass before she gets her mind straight again and she chuckles, shaking her head at your antics and dropping her hands on her knees.
"Now you just have to be extra nice to me and pamper me some more." You softly smile up at her and try to convey to her that tonight was indeed perfect and she finally let's out a huff and nods.
"Of course, beautiful." A hand coming up to your face, a thumb stroking your cheek and you turn a little to place a kiss in her palm as you reach to hold her hand with your own.
"Can you pretty please massage me some more now?" You look up at her with your irresistible puppy eyes, squeeze her hand and she chuckles.
"Anything you want, baby." She smiles and gently nudges you to turn back around.
**********
A soft kiss on the back of your neck and fingers gliding to caress your shoulders have you humming contently and with closed eyes you slowly throw your head back over the edge of the bathtub to lean on her knee and smile up at her.
"Ready to get out? Water's getting cold." She says as she smooths your wet hair out of your face.
"Just a couple minutes..." You mumble.
"Okay, beautiful."
You hear her shift in her place before you feel hands cradling your face as she leans down to steal a gentle kiss and you moan before reciprocating.
"You know..." you mumble between the kissing and she acknowledges you with a hum, not wanting to stop worshiping your soft lips with her tongue.
"Maybe I should let her buy me another drink the next time."
She slowly pulls back and you open your eyes to look up at her, a devilish smirk, a raised eyebrow, a trace of the possessive look she gave you at the bar evident on her face, and you already feel a shiver travel up your spine.
"Maybe you should."
Oh, the trouble you can get into.
**********
taglist : @opropheticsoul
Thanks for reading! :)
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
What if in KHML there are “secret reports” and they’re just letters to Brain (and/or the other Union Leaders) from Ephemer?
Like we learn about his experiences after UX and rebuilding Keyblade Wielder Society and stuff through these letters he wrote to his friends. We never actually see him or the objective events or anything. We don’t even hear his voice, meet any new friends he might’ve made, nothing but those letters.
Like we’re just as disconnected from him as Brain is.
#I dunno I think it’d be a fun way to explore what things were like for Ephemer#like to give us info about it without taking a break from whatever the plot will be in ML#ML’s like Pokémon Go right?#Put it as a chance drop in whatever the equivalent to Pokéstops are or something#Use it as a reward for using the AR features#(says the one who’s probably too in the middle of nowhere to be able to use them)#It’s okay people’ll post them online#khux#khml#Sometimes I Think About KHUX
129 notes
·
View notes
Note
hello hello! After a few posts of this premise I just had to say something and because you just make them come to life I just had to ask :) anyway, Danny let’s say in seriously injured by the giw or even his parents but he is reverting to his core and he goes to Clockwork to help since he’s the one he’s the most closest ghost to and kinda his guardian ghost, Clockwork sees that he himself will not be able to help forever and finds a different solution. He takes Danny’s core and makes a magic safe guard and puts his core inside in the guise of a doll like this one:
But with Danny’s coloration! He sends Danny to Gotham and ends up being picked up by Robin!Jason who thinks he’s cute and gets attached, Danny is weak but trying to gather ectoplasm but sends a sense of gratefulness to Jason who feels it but is a bit confused but happy he saved a doll. He brings it with him everywhere and takes it with him everywhere but when Jason dies and buried Danny is sat at his grave and he wakes up a little earlier with Danny and brings with him. He gets a strange attachment and feeling of safety with the doll and then is able to talk to it and Danny and him become closer and when he eventually reunites with everyone and things smooth over he feels it’s fine to bring Danny the doll to the mansion and the others realize that Jason has a haunted fucking doll and with the already thin trust they can’t do hair when Danny messes with them with moving their stuff, appearing out of nowhere, and being all around creepy but he helps Alfred so Jason has no issues and finds it funny. There are probably times where they try to dispose of it anyways but comes back completely fine and they become even warier but Danny is just having the time of his life while eating his ectoplasm while helping them with cases and finding things and such and Alfred even defends him when they try to talk Jason around about the creepy doll and is like “Did you stay at my grave 24/7 in all weather? That’s what I thought.” When Tim tries to get evidence he takes a picture of the doll all he sees is a boy around the age Jason died with pale soft blue eyes staring back with a soft smile that even if it wasn’t really creepy he still felt a chill down his spine
First of all, the photo almost gave me a heart attack. Haunted dolls terrify me (ironically, I fear ghosts.) But honestly, I love the prompt, so here you go!
Jason moves back into the manor- sort of. He's still in the middle of his hostile takeover of Crime Alley, but things are a little less stressful between the family. Maybe it was because Jason's Pit Madness was slowly disappearing, thanks to his friend Danny.
Danny was a great listener and always willing to help Jason sort through his feelings and thoughts. He was the reason that Jason chose to try to talk things out with Bruce before going through his insane idea of attacking Tim at the Titian Tower.
Which, you know, Tim was grateful he didn't actually go through with it after finding the plans in some of Jason's stuff while helping him move. The fact he wanted to wear his old Robin outfit- which would not fit on his body now- would have been beyond traumatizing enough, thank you very much.
"I know." Jason laughed as the rest of the family crowded around the plans. Even Damian seemed a bit disturbed by what was written. "Danny made me realize I didn't have the skinny legs to pull off the outfit."
Tim has never met Danny, but he has heard about him. Jason spoke about him when he followed Bruce and Jason around with his camera, which was enough for him to know Danny was likely a childhood friend.
Of course, Danny went by the code "Doll" in those days. Personally, Tim had always assumed that Jason and Danny shared a relationship that went beyond friends.
It had been another reason that Jason was his favorite Robin. If Robin could like boys, then Tim could too, and the knowledge that one of his literal heroes was like him helped Tim accept himself faster.
He never brought it up, even as Jason slowly gained control over Crime Alley as a Crime Lord- one that didn't kill because it would make Danny sad, which was another point in his secret boyfriend checkbox list.
Everything was fine- until Bruce found out about Danny.
"Jason, I thought you outgrew Danny," Bruce uttered hesitantly as Jason explained how Danny had fallen over himself when describing his Titain Tower plan.
Jason's eyes flashed green at once, and everyone in the cave grew tense.
"I will never outgrow Danny!" The second oldest barked, his neck muscles straining.
Now Tim knew that Danny was a secret, so he never brought him up despite the burning need to ask every question under the sun about him. Jason wasn't out to the rest of the family- detectives or not- that was up to Jason to decide when they would know.
He just always assumed Bruce knew since, you know, his son called his best friend Doll back when he was fourteen and running around in green spandex.
How could he not know? Did he want Jason to change his cape out for a rainbow and sing musicals at the top of his lungs on Wayne Tower?
Actually.....Jason did sing in musicals at his drama club. Honestly, Bruce was in denial.
Jason may not be out, but Tim wouldn't let Bruce bully him about his lover!
"Jason can have whatever friends he wants! And feel whatever he feels about them!" Tim snares, and that causes Dick, Damian, and Steph to bristle. They stand beside a huffing Jason, slowly coming down from his rage at the sight of support.
Cass and Alfred watch from the Batcomputer, a tension around their eyes the only sign that they, too. Bruce intelligently raises his hands in a placating manner.
"I did not mean anything wrong by that, Jason. I'm just surprised Danny still has such a strong hold on you." Bruce starts, his eyes never leaving his boy's face, even with all his other children flocking around him. "I thought Danny was lost when you died."
There is a long pause where Tim considers the words. It's a fair assumption. After all, Danny thought Jason had died and been buried. Why would he wait around after that?
Even the Bats still didn't know what caused Jason to come back. How would a civilian possibly begin to consider his boyfriend returning from the grave- or Tim assumes to be a civilian since Danny had never joined them on the field? He had to be in the know for Jason to tell him the plans comfortably.
"He waited every day, twenty-four seven at my grave," Jason tells Bruce, puffing up his chest. "He was with me when I was in a coma and when I was practically brain-dead on the streets. Hell, he was even there when the League of Assiasns brainwashed me!"
Damian jerks in surprise. He always gets taken aback by how casually Jason admits being part of the organization of his upbringing, no matter how briefly. Not even Bruce does that. "I....was unaware Daniel had been with you. I never saw him."
"Talia allowed me to have him with me just as long as I kept him tied up in my closet so he wouldn't be spotted."
Everyone but Alfred and Bruce step back, staring in horror at Jason. Tim can figure out by their reactions alone that everyone in the Bats had come to the same conclusion as he did about Danny being Jason's lover then.
After all, it's hard to hide that kind of thing from the family of detectives.
How could I have missed this? Tim thinks in dismay. Quickly, his brain runs through every time Jason has so much as hinted at Danny, trying to spot the signs that apparently his brother was abusive and honestly psychotic towards his boyfriend.
"Jason," Dick began in the same casual tone he usually used on hostile witnesses. "Where is Danny now?"
" Upstairs in my closet. He kept trying to escape, so I had to switch to chains." The responses are as easy as they are casual. Tim's stomach drops.
Quickly, he makes eye contact with Steph, who very quickly lowers her chin at him, and then his eyes flicker to the others. Damian's hands have curled, while Dick moves casually to stand behind Jason, which will make it easier to restrain him.
How long had Danny been up there? How many days and nights did he spend held against his will in the one place that should have been the safest of Gotham?
They all tense their muscles, ready to strike-
"Danny is a doll," Bruce suddenly speaks up, his eyes flickering to all of the gathered children with a wild, alarmed look. Ah, he caught on to the fact they were about to take Jason down. "A doll that Jason found in Crime Alley. Made of porcelain and fabric. Not a person."
The Bats are still eyeing their father with sharp, trained eyes, but Alfred's agreeing nod has them relaxing. Oh, thank the gods!
"Of course, Danny isn't a person," Jason replies mystified. He is unaware of how close he came to being jumped. As it were, the Bats stepped away from him as he looked around, confused. "Why would I have a person chained up in my closet?"
Bruce gets a strange, sad smile on his face. "Yes, Chum, why would you."
Tim isn't following. "If Danny is a toy-"
"A doll." Jason cuts in with a hard edge to his voice.
"Right, sorry, if Danny is a doll, why must you chain him up?"
Jason smiles. "Cause Danny runs the first chance he gets."
What?
"Danny is a haunted doll," Bruce starts, only to have Jason huff.
"No, he isn't! Danny is not haunted; he's just curious." Jason rolls his eyes. "Yeah, he never stays still, and okay, sometimes things disappear around the house, but that doesn't necessarily mean a haunting!"
"Master Jason, might I remind you that while you and Mister Danny were first living here, I caught the vacuum moving by itself?" Alfred calls. "I also remember that Mister Danny's head turned to me and followed my movement as I dusted."
"He just wanted to help you clean," Jason defends in a rather childish manner that Tim never thought he would see from someone his age. Maybe that's why Bruce was worried Danny was still around. "He's not a ghost."
"Chum, I hear laughter from your room even when you are not home." Bruce starts. "The laughing started the day you brought Danny home."
"He can tell great jokes!"
"Wait, tells jokes? Jason, does Danny talk to you? " Steph questioned, looking a tiny bit spooked. Oh yeah, she hates ghosts. Tim forgot her fear of them after living so close to the Gotham cemetery and all the nasty ghost stories surrounding it.
Jason blinks down at her, likely forgetting they were present, before considering the question. He moves his hand in a so-and-son motion.
"He tries, but it sounds like fast past whispers. I have to strain to hear him."
"Jason," Dick says with an easy-going smile that belies the worry in his eyes. "That's haunting one-oh-one. You're haunted."
"No, a haunting implies that Danny is dead, which he is not. Danny is just resting until his body can reform. I think he's an alien." Jason taps his chin. "He told me before that his species are the conscious manifestation of ectoplasm but that their souls are within a small core, they can retreat to when badly injured. Danny was really hurt, so he's taking a while to reform."
Bruce's strained smile becomes tighter. "We can have Zatanna or Consitine take a look at him. They might-"
"I'll blow your fucking head off if you try it, old man" Jason's eyes were a bright green, an animistic sneer at his lips, and bloodlust was thick in the air. The abrupt change makes Tim wonder if he has passed out and missed the trigger.
Bruce sighs. "Of course, Jason. Why don't you show everyone, Danny? I think it's time they meet him."
Jason beams, shooting up the stairs to go get his doll. Everyone watches him go, and until they are sure he can not hear them, they burst into conversation.
"Jason is definitely haunted!" Dick despairs, throwing himself dramatically on a nearby chair. "We need to do something! Get it away from him."
"We will do no such thing," Alfred huffs. "Mister Danny is a fine young ghost who helps Master Jason. It would be unwise to separate them."
"As much as I hate to admit it, even Dinah claims that the two are good for each other." Bruce says, likely unhappy that Black Canary used her therapy license against him, "Apparently, Danny is Jason's support doll."
Before anyone can say anything else, Jason races down the stairs with a broad smile. In his hands is a beautiful porcelain doll with black fabric hair, a fine little king suit made from expensive material, and a pretty painted face.
Its green glass eyes- colored to seem almost watery- seemed to stare into everyone's soul as Jason held him up for the room to see. Danny had no facial expression- not even a smile, just a soft, relaxed neural set of features that were popular in the era he was likely made in, but the eyes held emotions.
There was definitely something intelligent and aware in them.
Tim shuddered.
"Oh, Tim, can you take our picture? It's Danny's first time in the cave, and I want to commemorate the date!" Jason suddenly asks, rocking on his heels like he used to do as Robin. Tim wonders if Danny was doing that to him- reverting him to a child-like mind.
If so, was that a good thing? Should he let it keep happening?
"Sure, Jason," He says, instead picking up his camera that he had taken on patrol. He aims his lends, trying to find the perfect lighting as his older brother quickly holds the doll up in his arms, allowing it' head to be at the same level as his face.
Tim snaps the picture, but when he looks at the screen, a shiver runs down his spine, and it takes all his training not to scream.
Jason's smirk is not out of place for his hulky form. He takes up most of the frame, but where Danny the doll is, there is a faint outline of another person. A teenager, maybe a year younger than Jason, with pretty features, a copy of the beauty in Jason's arms, but much more human, yet not human, is smiling at the camera.
He's about a head shorter than Jason, but even with the softness of his smile, Tim has never been more creeped out in his life.
Jason is definitely haunted.
"How did it come out?" Jason asks as Danny's doll head turns to look at Damian. The younger boy imminently moved back, hiding behind Bruce. The doll's eyes followed him, almost amused by the boy's actions.
"G-good." Tim stammers. Steph is already racing for the safety of Bruce's cape, joining Damian. "Danny is beautiful."
Jason pauses, tilting his head as if hearing something, eyes flickering down to his right where the teenager ghost stood for the picture, and then grins.
"Of course he means it." Jason's ears turn pink as he admits, "I also think you're the most gorgeous person I've ever met."
Okay, Jason is definitely being haunted by someone he might have a crush on. That's....something Bruce has to deal with because Tim is the younger brother, not the dad, and thank god for that.
He might be wrong, but he gets the sense that the doll is blushing even though nothing changes.
It's not my circus and will never be my monkies. Tim thinks racing to Bruce's cape is a good idea as well. He is scared to be out here in the open like Dick and Cass.
Those two might be okay with being haunted, but Tim isn't. Just in case, he'll have to steer clear of the manor for a few days.
#dcxdpdabbles#dc x dp crossover#Jason's Doll#Dead on Main#Yes Danny is laughing that the big bad bats are scared of him#Jason saw Danny's real form in his dreams#Ghost can reach you there#Bruce is like#“Son please let me buy you a toy that's not ghost-infected. Come on you're eighteen now”#Cass and Dick think it's a sweet love story#Tim's pov
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
two — are you in?
mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader
⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to.
when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.
previous — masterlist — next
word count. 1.8k
content. profanity, alcohol consumption, sukuna being gross, drunken shenanigans
In your defense, you’re quite drunk. Not much of a defense, you know, but it still counts for something, right? Why else would you be at this party, standing in front of your ex, with your best friend at your side claiming that he’s now your boyfriend?
That’s right. Sukuna, catching you in a moment of weakness, dragged you with him to a party you had no intentions of going to. Sure, if you were feeling any better, not dealing with a major heartbreak, you’d go to the party with him, no questions asked. But you aren’t feeling better, you are heartbroken, and you don’t want to be here.
But who can say no to Sukuna?
You couldn’t say no to him when he forced you to get dressed—“No, you’re not wearing those pants, they’re hideous. Try this dress.”—you couldn’t say no to him when he pulled you to his car—“No, I do not have a used condom in my backseat.”—you couldn’t say no to him when he offered you a bottle of vodka—“Don’t get all prim and proper on me now.”—and you definitely don’t say no when you get stuck in an awkward encounter with your ex and Sukuna asks, “We were just waiting to get together, right?”
The three of you are in the kitchen. There’s a couple about to do it on the counter beside you, but you pay them no mind. You’re standing by the fridge with a stale beer in your hand and Sukuna is right beside you, his arm draped over his shoulder as he stares down Satoru who you’re pretty sure is going to pop a vein in his forehead.
“Really?” he asks, looking at you and pointedly not looking at Sukuna. “You’re together now?”
It’s Sukuna who answers for you. “Yeah, two weeks going strong.”
If he didn’t have such a death grip on you, you’re sure you would have kicked him in the crotch by now. Alas, there’s nowhere to go, no way to move, not with the way your best friend is clutching you to his side.
Satoru glares at him. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to her.”
When he looks back at you, you can feel Sukuna’s grip get tighter. It’s something like twin telepathy, the way you’re able to decipher what he means just by a simple squeeze. Without even looking at him, you already see the snarl on his face. You can hear him screaming, This is your one chance to make him feel bad. Don’t be an idiot.
The kitchen door opens and you catch a glimpse of the party outside. It’s bedlam out there, that’s why you and Sukuna sequestered yourselves to the kitchen in the first place. Yet, despite all the chaos, you manage to see her.
The girl who, when you walked into the party, was stitched to Satoru’s side. Who had her tongue down his throat. Who he held by the waist, the same way he held you not too long ago.
The door closes, the guy who opened it in the first place probably realizing that the room is in fact not the bathroom, leaving you alone—save for the couple coupling in the corner—with Satoru and Sukuna and the terrible tension that’s managed to descend upon your little anomalous group.
You glance at Sukuna. He looks at you expectantly, an eyebrow raised. Are you going to do it? he asks.
You turn to Satoru. He’s ready to laugh in your friend’s face, already anticipating your denial of this whole charade. I know he’s lying, he says. Like you could ever be with him.
The words fly out of your mouth before you even realize it. It’s like something has taken over your body, an unbearable force, an innate sense of pettiness that you can’t quite control.
Be a big girl, it tells you. Grow up. And pretend to date your friend.
“We’re together,” you say. Your arm finds its way around Sukuna’s middle and you pull him closer to you as you smile. It’s wicked and charming and honestly doesn’t feel like you, but you do it. “Is that a problem?”
You spy the tiniest clench of Satoru’s jaw. Imperceptible to anyone else but you, the girl who has loved him for a whole year and will probably love him for the rest of your life. You almost want to break right then and there and deny what you’ve just said. You don’t know why you said it. It must be the booze. Satoru, please come back.
But you don’t. You’re a lot of things, but you are not weak. And you’re definitely not going to break now. Definitely not over him.
“Yeah,” Sukuna chimes in. You don’t even need to look at him to know that he’s got a satisfied smirk on his face. “Is that a problem, man?”
Satoru gives you one last look, one last chance to take it back, and when you don’t he turns to Sukuna, your apparent boyfriend.
“Nah,” he says. His voice is so cold it startles you. Has he ever sounded this terrifying before? “Goodluck.” Even if he isn’t looking at you, you know that you’re the one he’s talking to. “You’ll need it.”
He leaves the room and you immediately push yourself away from Sukuna.
“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. “Don’t fucking laugh!”
He doubles over, holding up a finger to signal that he needs a minute because, god, this is so ridiculous, isn’t it?
“Your fucking face!” He cackles, turning his finger to point at you now. “You looked so shocked!”
You step forward and bite his finger. Just chomp. It seems like the right thing to do in the moment.
“Kinky.”
You jump away and spit on the ground.
“Why did you do that?” you demand, stepping forward to attack Sukuna. You don’t know if you want to punch him or kick him, but you have to do something. And because you’ve been so lucky tonight, the bottle of vodka that you polished off a few minutes ago, hits you right then and there and you stumble.
Sukuna catches you by the wrist and his laughter only gets louder. “You’re kinda pathetic, you know?”
You push him away and steady yourself on the kitchen counter. “Why’d you tell him that?” you ask, closing your eyes as you try to stay upright. “He’s gonna think I’m stupid.”
“Stupid how?” he prods. “Because you’re dating me?”
Your eyes shoot open and you scowl at him. “I’m not dating you,” you say lowly. “And I never will.”
“Way to make a guy swoon.”
You give into your drunken stupor and sit down on the floor. You try not to think about the fact that it feels sticky beneath your thighs and try harder not to think of the possibility that you’re not sitting in spilled alcohol but something much more vile.
“Hey.” And he’s sitting beside you now. “Sorry, alright? But that guy had some nerve making out with his new bimbo for all the world to see.”
“Don’t call her a bimbo, that’s offensive,” you chide. You fold your legs and pull them to your chest, allowing your head to rest on your knees. “And he’s allowed to do that. It wasn’t his fault.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean,” you say slowly, “I broke up with him.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“No, I’m not.”
Sukuna chortles. “Good for you, tiger,” he says. “The guy’s dead weight anyway.”
You turn your head over to look at him. “Well, now he probably thinks I broke up with him to be with you.” You slam a fist on his leg, ignoring him when he yelps. “That’s a really terrible reason to break up with someone, dude.”
“You wound me,” he says. “I’m not that bad.”
“You have at least five girls on speed dial for when you wanna get it wet.”
“I have needs. Sue me.”
You groan and shake your head. “What am I gonna do?” you ask. “I just lied to my ex and told him I have a boyfriend that I do not have. How much more pathetic can I be?”
You feel his hand reach over to the top of your head. And he… pats it.
“I guess I have to be your boyfriend then.”
You roll your eyes at him. “Oh, sure, because you’re such boyfriend material.”
He raises a brow. “What?” he asks. “You think I can’t do it?”
It’s your turn to laugh now. “Are you serious? ‘Kuna, you wouldn’t know commitment if it shot you in the face.”
“I resent that,” he tells you. He turns his body towards you and grins. “Come on, how bad could it be?”
“Seriously?” you laugh. “God, it’s fine. I mean, I’ll figure something out. No need to commit to the bit.”
The look he gives you is so earnest, it almost scares you. “I can be your boyfriend,” he tells you firmly. “Let me do this for you.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“I’m not.”
You’re waiting for him to crack, to start laughing at you again, to say, “Did you seriously think I was gonna pretend to be your boyfriend? Grow up, bro!”
You wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And, “You’re not joking.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not,” he tells you. “It’ll be fun! A little experiment. I’m so down, tiger.”
“You,” you point at him, “want to be my pretend boyfriend.”
Without hesitation, “Yes.”
“I don’t get it.”
Sukuna beams at you, touching your hand with his. “We’ll pretend to be together for like a month, so Satoru doesn’t think you’re a loser who can’t move on like he has,” he says, laying out the plan like he’s already thought it over in his head. Screw him for being able to think properly while intoxicated. “Then, we break up. And all the girls who have been avoiding me because they don’t think I’m relationship material will come running and I get my happily-ever-after. It’s a win-win!”
You gape at him. “You’re gonna pretend to date me so you can get more girls?”
He nods enthusiastically. “It’s the perfect plan.”
“You’re a pig,” you tell him. “You’re like the biggest pig ever.”
“That’s no way to talk to your fake boyfriend,” he says. “Plus, I’ll also be abstinent the whole time we’re—” he uses air quotes, “—‘together.’ And you know what they say, sex is always better when you’ve been deprived for a while.”
“I am so telling on you to your mother.”
He nudges your shoulder. “This is a one-time offer, tiger,” he tells you. “So? Are you in?”
You think about the many, many ways this whole situation could go wrong. You think about the fact that Sukuna has no self-control whatsoever. You think about the fact that your friends will not like this plan at all. You think about the fact that you’re still very much heartbroken, unable to put yourself through this much stress right now.
Then, you think about Satoru kissing that girl. You think about your heart splintering into a million pieces. You think about that day, at the steps of the science building, when you realized what you had to do.
Are you in?
“Okay,” you say. “Let’s do it.”
notes. and so it begins ;)
on another note, i'm actively ignoring the leaks like i KNOW what's happening but i'm just gonna plead ignorance
331 notes
·
View notes
Note
So how much are you willing to talk about Ulquiorra?
I will talk so much about him. There are so many things wrong with that man, but to make a brief list of his most notable features:
He's dumb as hell.
I say that with tremendous sympathetic affection. Ulquiorra barely thinks. It's easy for him to do nothing and go nowhere. He eats chocolate in the middle of the night in the dark. When he gets access to a garden, he often just stands around in it. He's often waiting for things to happen.
He just LOOKS smart compared to nearly everyone else in the fic because he doesn't have much to say, so he's not constantly opening his mouth to jam his foot down it.
Consequently, Ulquiorra starts off having little to no initiative of his own. Stuff just happens to him. Some of that is because he is colossally depressed, but he's depressed because the idea that he has control over his circumstances has straight up not occured to him.
The first person he meets that shows him that "You can just do whatever you want, forever" and the boundless joy it is to be a creature of free will is, unfortunately, Aizen. And Aizen left off the key corollary "-EVERYONE is allowed to do whatever they want, forever. We are all equal in God's dead, empty eye sockets."
So Ulquiorra wanders around trying out this "doing stuff" thing without any concept of ethics.
I realize I am infantilizing this character, but I am doing so in a twilight zone "hey, wouldn't it be fucked up to watch a fully anatomically functional person who is able to speak and blow stuff up with his mind go through the emotional development steps of a toddler?", because I think that's a fun high-concept premise to explore with him. Yeah, what if a toddler could speak articulately and also destroy you? How would he act? How does he feel, learning to have feelings?
It'd probably suck for him and everyone around him, and make him very easy to manipulate, for one thing.
So I don't think Ulquiorra is evil, because evil takes intent. He is dangerous to be in the general proximity of, though
Like a horse
lose
in a hospital!
I love that sketch as much as the next person but if an IRL horse got loose in a hospital it would be bedlam, but the horse would be mostly confused and probably willing to follow around the first person who looked like they knew what they were doing.
You know, like how Ulquiorra follows Aizen around because that's the first guy he's met who THINKS he knows what he's doing, and is good at convincing others he knows what he's doing!
So Ulquiorra's entire first character arc is being exposed to more and more people and realizing he does have control over his life, and that he can take actions, and that those actions have consequences.
Like being emotionally devastated by a teenage girl because he was an asshole to her and she's willing to scream at him about it.
Hm.
Consequences hurt.
He lives through the Las Noches arc, and decides to follow his own star!
He follows it right through a portal that was not meant for him and now he's sort of trapped in somewhere he's really, really, really, really, REALLY not supposed to be.
But it's a beautiful place
And nobody is forcing him to do anything.
And for a long time, he just stands out in the garden, waiting for something.
But then
Ulquiorra experiences a novel pair of emotions that he's recently learned from his new...
Orihime is too mad at him for him to call her a friend.
-but he did learn the names and therefore the experience of two new emotions from her: boredom, and it's natural remedy: curiosity.
So Ulquiorra's second character arc is him learning how to be himself without anyone telling him who he is and what he ought to be.
He's travelling up Maslow's hierarchy with the inscrutable but unstoppable instinctual drive of a salmon returning to its spawning ground.
This has lead to an important discovery on my part: Ulquiorra is terrific for comedy because he is the ULTIMATE straight man to everyone else's nonsense, because he's immune to nearly all nonsense.
He doesn't have societal taboos to be hung up on, nor any sense of what is "normal", so the sole thing he geta hung up on is a lack of internal consistency in others, meaning he can slip between straight man to the absurdist at the drop of a single scathing observation. Yet, he retains a sort of understated dignity that compels people to try to earn his respect.
Hence, I'm having fun turning him loose on the most absurd, internally inconsistent and frankly, insane batch of characters in the series:
The Royal Guard.
:)
454 notes
·
View notes
Text
Copy That (Jack Reacher x ex!wife!reader)
Summary: Much against his preference, he gave you a call and asked for your help. When a hit was hired to take you out, he deeply regrets getting you involved.
Notes: GIF is not mine, this is not a beta’d read, protective Reacher, soft Reacher, reader is black, technically this is a drabble but there will be more drabble with the same characters
—
“Who’s able to hack into a system with this much encryption?” Rocoe asks, linking her arms over her head as she leaned back into her chair.
“Let me see,” Reacher turns the monitor to face him. There’s a black screen with a singular white box that asks for a password.
Obviously it’s more than a password. They probably beefed up their cybersecurity when he noticed someone getting too close to their operation, Reacher thought to himself.
“Finlay, do you have any friends in cybersecurity security that we can trust?” Roscoe asks.
“Negative,” Reacher knew exactly the person for the job. He hadn’t spoken to you in years, and he didn’t want the first time he contacted you to be when he needed something.
But he didn’t have any other choice.
You wanted out of field work two years after your operations team disbanded. In that way, you were opposite of Neagley, your best friend.
You liked being in the comfort of your own office, free to do anything you’d like when waiting for the decryption to crack.
Life with you was domesticated. Life with you was peaceful. A level of peace he wasn’t sure he would feel again, even if he went back to his favorite home town growing up.
“Reacher?” Roscoe asks, touching her forearm to bring him out of his thoughts. “Where’d you go?” “Nowhere, I’m right here. I know someone,” Reacher finally says, pulling out his burner phone.
“Really? You have friends?” Finlay jabs, earning a glare from Reacher. He dialed your number and put the phone on speaker.
You were in the middle of doing a headstand lotus on your yoga mat when you heard your phone vibrate.
It was from an unsaved number. There was two people that would call from unsaved number: Neagley or Reacher.
You answered the phone and moved across your office to close all the blinds. “Y/L/N,” you answer and you were met with silence.
“If this is some ploy to scare me, you really suck at it.” Reacher stared at the phone, his heart pattering wildly in his chest.
You just had that effect on him.
You were about to hang up the phone when you heard a low baritone say your name.
You looked down at the number before bringing the phone back up to your ear. “Reacher? Is everything okay?”
You peeked through the blinds of your office and saw no one suspicious but you can never be too careful.
“I, uh.” Reacher starts, earning confused stares from Finlay and Roscoe. They hadn’t seen him speechless before.
He takes the phone off speaker and goes outside for some privacy. “Y/N, I need your help cracking something. You’re more than welcome to say no-“ “Send it over,” you interrupt.
“I can’t. It’s likely they’ll track the IP address to you and pay you a visit.” “Let them try.” A proud smile makes its way on his face. That’s my girl.
“It’s safer with us. I’ll send you the coordinate incognito.” “Jesus, Reacher. What have you gotten yourself into?”
“It’s something I have to finish,” “How long should I pack for?” His silence told you all you needed to know.
“I’ll be on the next flight out,”
**
You stepped off the metro with your carry on suitcase by your side and a backpack on.
You downed the rest of your coffee and tossed it in the waste bin before advancing towards the escalator. You scanned the area for Reacher with no avail but Reached saw you.
He didn’t want to call attention to you by calling your name so he watched as you waited for the escalator.
“Wow, she’s.. ” Finlay trails off when Reacher’s gaze left you to stare at him. “Really pretty,” Roscoe finishes. “She’s clearly your girlfriend,” Finlay adds.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” “You’re rather protective of her. You care about her.”“That doesn’t make her my girlfriend,”
“Uh guys, where’d she go?” Roscoe starts. The group looks at the empty space where you were previously standing.
“Fuck,” Reacher rushes down the stairs, Finlay and Roscoe not far behind. I should have never took my eyes off of her, Reacher thought to himself. If she dies, I swear to God.
Meanwhile, you stood over the man who had pushed you a few feet into the metro tunnel.
He had pressed a knife to your throat while his teammate searched your belongings. They expected you to be a quick kill.
You had to say you were a bit insulted that they only sent two men after you. They must not see you as a physical threat. That was their mistake.
He laid at your feet, his eyes widen as he looks up at you. He peers over to his teammate who laid dead on the tracks, his neck split wide open.
You slowly approached him and he attempted to crawl away from you. The blood from his chest wound stains the pavement under near him.
You wasted no time as you pressed your boot down on his trachea. He gripped your ankle, looking up at you with pleading eyes.
Thrusting your foot down, you crushed his trachea and watched as his chest slowly falls to a stop.
You slung your book bag over your shoulder and rolled your carry on back to the metro docking station.
Reacher had his back toward you, he was talking to two people you didn’t recognize.
A younger woman looked over at you, her mouth fell open at the sight of you. You’re sure you had blood splattered across your neck and face.
She mumbles something to Reacher and spun around so fast, you’re surprised he didn’t crack his neck.
In the blink of an eye, he was in front of you. He doesn’t say anything at first. You admired the stubble that was forming on his face.
You were always a sweetheart for facial hair. He held your face, turning your head from side to side in search of wounds. His hand gently trailed down your abdomen.
He continued his silent survey until you said, “Reach, I’m fine. The blood isn’t mine.”
His gaze fell behind you before returning to your face. He raised his brow and you nodded at his silent question. They were dead.
“I should have kept my eyes on you. This is my fault. I’m sorry.” “Hey, you taught me well. I handled myself. Besides, it was only two guys.”
“What did they use?” “Knives,” you said with a smirk. “They didn’t stand a chance,” he says, making your smirk widen. “No, they didn’t.”
“Sorry to interrupt but uh,” Finlay hands you a hanker chief, motioning to your face. “We should go. You’re getting stares.”
“Y/N Y/L/N, pleasure.” You reached down to grab your luggage but Reacher beats you to it.
You didn’t bother arguing with him, you were occupied with getting all of the blood off of your skin while it was still wet.
“So.. are you Reacher’s girlfriend?” Finlay asks as he opened the trunk and Reacher slide your luggage inside.
Roscoe looked at you expectantly, which tells you that she has a crush on him.
You don’t blame her. He’s Jack Reacher after all.
“No, I’m his ex-wife.” You answer, setting your book bag next to your luggage before closing the trunk. Roscoe’s mouth fell once again, along with Finlay’s.
They stared at you as if they were waiting for you to say just kidding. You slide into the back seat and Reacher joined you.
“Close your mouth, Finlay. You’ll catch flies.” He says before closing the door.
“Care to tell me what happened the last time you were at the metro?” You asked when you all piled into the car.
“What do you mean?” Roscoe asks as Finlay pulls off the curb and descends into exit to go onto the freeway.
“The way you were looking for me was frantic. It makes sense why Reach was worried, but not you two. Something else happened at the metro station. Someone was taken out like they tried to take me out. Who was it?” You explain.
Finlay and Roscoe looked shared a look but didn’t say anything.
“There was a woman. Her name was Molly-“ “Molly? As in Molly Gordon?” “You know her?”
“Joe brought her as his plus one to my sister’s baby shower. God, that’s.. how’s Joe holding up?” You asked, your mouth felt dry at the new information.
Reacher looks at you, his features hard as stone. Your heart sank in your chest the longer you stared at him.
You felt compelled to reach for his hand in comfort but you had to remind yourself that he wasn’t big on public affection.
Nor was he big on being vulnerable in front of people so you kept your hands in your lap.
“How long?” You asked after a pause. “It’s been a few days now,” Finlay confirms. “They got too close,” you said with a sigh.
“How many people have died?” “Five so far,” Roscoe answers. “And that’s just the ones we found,” Finlay adds.
“So they’re dropping people like flies and it’s still a state police matter?”
Bringing in the FBI and the CIA will only push these people into the hiding. We need to lure them out and kill them.” Reacher explains and you nodded in agreement.
“Copy that,”
279 notes
·
View notes
Text
wednesday night(s) | jjk
— pairing: jk x f. reader
— genre: fluff? | college au
— word count: 2.9k
— warnings: laundromat!jk (!!!), stalkerish behaviour (not jk or oc), dubious-consensual kissing (but they talk about it after), jk is a sweetheart and oc is just a blabbering mess
— summary: on a wednesday night seven weeks ago, you met someone in the laundry room. this wednesday night, you meet him again.
— author's note: i suck at summaries,, the story is better i promise (i hope,,, T_T) anyways. i had this in the draft like a few weeks after seven mv was released and then got stuck, revisited it months later then finished it like this. hah. i hope laundromat!jk with his grey hoodie and curly hair is enough to keep this enjoyable :]
masterlist
The dim lighting of the shared laundry room in your apartment building greets you as you step inside with your laundry basket in hand. It’s devoid of other people when you look around, the whirring of the washers and dryers the only sound competing with the silence of the night. You exhale a breath of relief, quickly making a beeline for the nearest empty washer to load your dirty clothes that’s piled up for a week.
Being a college student doesn’t give you many options for your living arrangement, only being able to settle on a one-bedroom apartment with a communal laundry room. In the first months of moving into the apartment, your schedule only allowed you to do your laundry on the weekends, which was apparently the same case for most patrons of the building. The laundry room was always full of people and you had to secure a washer by waiting for someone else to finish, wasting precious hours away from your supposedly free weekend. That, and your social battery was always drained from all the loud conversations among roommates and friends alike when they were also waiting for a washer to free up. You couldn’t stand having your energy gone even before Monday said hello, so you tried to clear your schedule to avoid doing laundry on the weekend.
Wednesday nights are scheduled for laundry now, after a day of two classes at campus and one shift at the coffee shop five bus stops away from where you live. Usually you’d be tired after the long day, but the laundry room is mostly quiet in the middle of the week, so you use the time to decompress while preparing yourself for your 10 am shift at the coffee shop Thursday morning. The burn in your arms after folding your shirts and pants for nearly twenty minutes helps you tune out your surroundings, which normally consists of the occasional one or two other patrons coming in and the whirr and beep of machines.
“You showed up late tonight.”
Ah, that’s something you forget to mention. Or rather, someone.
Your heart jumps in your chest, beats stuttering a bit faster not because you’re flustered in his presence, but because he just popped out of nowhere. Wasn’t the room empty when you scanned it upon your entry?
Maybe you were too busy trying to declutter your mind from the day’s events that you didn’t hear him loading his own laundry into the washer. Didn’t hear the beep when his washer started, didn’t hear him calling you upon noticing your presence, didn’t hear him walk closer, and certainly didn’t hear when he sat on top of the washer right next to the one you’re using. Or maybe you did hear something, but didn’t care enough to find out who it was.
“Did you go on a date?” He gestures to the black tanktop you have on underneath your denim jacket. Probably referring to your face too, which is still caked with make up because you haven’t had time to clean it off yet. You spare him a glance with a downturn of your lips, by now a standard response to whatever he says, really.
You met him for the first time around seven weeks ago, when he accidentally knocked you over with his gigantic laundry basket. He had apologized profusely with that big, round peepers of his and you had brushed him off with a polite smile, hoping he’d just drop it and leave you alone like any normal person would. He had been silent for the rest of his laundry cycle, but you could feel the way his eyes never left your figure for the remainder of the night.
A week after that, you found him using the exact same washer as last week and tried to avoid the one next to his, planning to load your laundry quietly and duck out of there before he had the chance to realize that you were in the vicinity. The plan was … partly successful as you managed to get out of the laundry room to wait out the washing cycle in your room, but not before he appeared beside you when you were putting in fabric softener into the washer. He had waited until your washer started running to once again voice out an apology for the laundry basket incident, something you told him to chill out about. He was just about to tell you his name when you mumbled out an excuse to flee, leaving him gaping in the middle of the laundry room. You did not want to know his name.
You found out anyway on your next Wednesday shift at the coffee shop, when you were munching on a chocolate muffin in the break room with one of your coworker, Mingyu. He had been showing you his Instagram account, scrolling through the photos when you recognized the Laundry Guy in one of them. “You know him?” Mingyu had inquired upon noticing your thumb had paused scrolling. A recount of what happened two weeks ago involving a certain doe-eyed boy and his enormous laundry basket was told, pulling out an amused laugh from your coworker. “His name is Jeongguk,” Mingyu kindly informed you (even though you didn’t ask.) “He’s in a few of my classes. Likes doing laundry. One time I went to his apartment to hang out and he did laundry in the middle of the night.”
Maybe you would’ve liked this Jeongguk guy if he kept doing his laundry in the middle of the night, out of your sight.
“Hey, Star, someone is looking for you.” The sound of Jeongguk’s voice pulls you back to the present.
Star. The nickname he started calling you by when he saw you loading your blanket—which is dark blue in color and has yellow stars all over it—into the washer one time. You’ve never really responded to it, but he sticks by the nickname like he’s been calling you that since you both were five. You let him have it then, seeing it as a win-win because it keeps him from knowing your name but still lets you know whenever he’s around and talking to you.
But beyond the nickname, the words after that caught your attention. Jeongguk’s nudge on your arm is barely noticeable, but the way his eyes are fixated on the doorway makes you follow his line of sight. There, just outside the laundry room, stood the person you want to see the least right now. Not after the shitty presentation you gave in class this morning (that in turn, got you scolded by your professor), not after you did terrible on your quiz on the second class, and not after you got an earful from your manager at the cafe for not handling a customer complaint professionally. Oh, and certainly, not in front of Jeongguk.
The person outside the laundry room yells your name. “Fancy meeting you here!” he continues, the cheery tone grating your ears. Fuck, how did he know where you live?
Hyun is—was—just a regular customer of the coffee shop you work at. You always see him on your shift, and in turn, have memorized his name and order because he always orders the exact same, simple thing: a medium caramel macchiato with two extra shots. Heck, it’s simple enough that even Mingyu has it drilled into his brain as well. There are multiple occasions where either you or Mingyu had already had Hyun’s order keyed in when he’s just approaching the cashier. Efficient work time, and all.
Unfortunately, this act of memorization is seen as flirting by the guy. He’s started smiling more at you, giving you cheeky winks, even sliding you his phone number on the napkin by the pick-up counter. You’ve tried to reject him politely, but Hyun is so dense that he interpreted your polite rejection as you playing hard to get and thus has been trying even harder to get you to date him. This makes you furious but Mingyu thinks it’s hilarious.
Wait. Mingyu…
He could be the one who told Hyun where you live. That motherfucker.
In the midst of your misery, you miss the way Jeongguk’s eyes light up at finally getting to know your name after seven weeks. Completely miss the way his eyes fill with mirth and his cherub cheeks lifting up in the beginning of a teasing smile, which dims as soon as he sees you bury your head in hands.
“Can we get out of here?” you grit through your teeth. You don’t even know when I turned to we, and with Jeongguk, of all people. You could’ve just bolted out of there, wait out your laundry cycle in your room like usual and pretend you don’t notice Jeongguk’s disappointed gaze that follows. Could’ve left him to deal with Hyun who’s inching closer towards you and have fun imagining him fumble trying to explain nonexistent shit to Hyun.
But that route could end up very badly if Hyun decided to abandon Jeongguk and follow you up to your room instead. It’s scary enough that he knows precisely what building you live in—you don’t need him knowing the exact room number. Hence, using Jeongguk as a shield at this moment feels like a safe choice.
“Heyyy,” Hyun’s voice reaches your ears again, prompting you to glance up, seeing him just a few steps away from you. In a desperate attempt, you grip the material of Jeongguk’s grey hoodie, whisper I’m so sorry before pulling him down to kiss him right on the mouth.
It’s awkward. You can feel how shocked Jeongguk is by the way his lips are still, frozen like a statue for the first few seconds of your kiss. Can’t blame him, though, after his numerous attempts of camaraderie were only responded with a cold shoulder by you. Heck, if you were in his position, you’d slap yourself across the face for pulling this crazy stunt. But Jeongguk is not you, so instead of that, he relaxes his lips before lightly gripping your jaw to angle your head better so he can kiss you properly.
And kiss properly you do, until all you can hear is only the smacking of your lips and the few soft sighs Jeongguk slips in between. He kisses you slowly, sucks on your bottom lip softly like it’s his favorite gummy candy and he wants to savor the taste. He must’ve had a lot of practice to be kissing someone this good.
“Really?” Hyun’s voice sounds far away in your head. “You think I would fall for that?”
When neither of you responds, still busy sucking each other’s lips, Hyun continues. “Please,” he says sarcastically. “Anyone could see that this is all fake.”
You feel Jeongguk pulling away from the kiss, his lips just a breath away from yours. You keep your eyes closed, your breath held, in fear that you’d melt into a puddle right then and there if you see Jeongguk’s face this close. When he speaks, the faint brush of his lips against yours makes you shiver.
“What makes you think this is fake?” he says. There’s a quirk on the corner of his lips when he kisses you again. “Never seen people kissing before? Or are you just trying to convince yourself that this is fake?”
Jeongguk’s hands move from your face to hold your waist, where he squeezes lightly before once again capturing your lips in his. You let out a muffled yelp when his hands slide lower to hoist you up onto a washing machine. The kissing resumes, more smacking sound is heard, and Hyun’s presence gets pushed to the back of your mind. All you can think about is Jeongguk’s lips, how warm and plush they are, and how they are pulling away from you again.
The tiny whine you let out gets lost in Jeongguk’s grunt, still addressing Hyun: “Scram, bro.” When that gets no response, he adds for good measure: “Shoo.”
You hear Hyun click his tongue in annoyance and the stomps he makes while walking away after, but find yourself unable to focus on either as Jeongguk goes back to sucking your bottom lip. The reason why you’re doing this definitely gets forgotten as you let yourself be carried away in Jeongguk’s kisses.
When someone tears open the door of the washing machine next to you loudly, you tear yourself apart from Jeongguk. He’s panting lightly, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-swollen. He’s also smiling at you, pointedly ignoring the dirty look thrown by the only other person in the laundry room other than you two. You grimace at the person, bowing slightly as a pathetic attempt at an apology.
Then you face Jeongguk again. Who’s still flushed. Whose lips still glisten red. Who’s still smiling at you, this time with mirth in his eyes. You fumble.
“Uh, about earlier—“
“Do you want to get off the washing machine first?”
Uh, what?
Right, you’re still sitting on top of the washing machine. Hoisted up by Jeongguk’s hands. On your thighs. Then kissing, licking, sucking—
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You clear your throat, bracing your hands on the machine but Jeongguk beats you to it by once again taking hold of your waist to help you step down. Unfortunately, that means your legs haven’t caught up with your brain yet so they buckle like a pair of useless jelly underneath you. Again, Jeongguk steadies you with his firm hold, still with upturned lips.
“Woah, there. You okay?” He giggles—giggles!—eyes scrunching up into crescents. His hands never leave your waist even after you’re standing solid on your own two feet.
“Yeah, um, thanks.” You try to look at anything but him. “Listen, Jeongguk. I—“
“Wait, how do you know my name?” Jeongguk tilts his head, the unruly strands atop his head making him look like a puppy. “I never told you, did I?”
“Oh, Mingyu told me—“
“You know Mingyu?”
You lift your hands to place them on his shoulders firmly. “Let me finish first?”
Jeongguk smiles sheepishly, but nods to let you continue.
“Okay, um. I’m really sorry about earlier … the drama with Hyun and the— kissing…. I just couldn’t think and didn’t know what else to do. I’m really, very sorry.” You let your head drop, the weight of kissing a stranger starting to get to you.
Jeongguk is quiet. You’re conjuring up another speech of apology with some backstory to help you justify yourself, just in case he decides that your first apology isn’t enough.
“It’s okay.” Huh? “I liked kissing you, anyway.”
You choke on air. “Wh—at?”
“I liked kissing you.” Jeongguk smiles again, that same mirth still in his eyes. “You know, Star, for someone so confident in pulling me down for a kiss, you sure are stuttering a lot right now.” His smile turns into a teasing one. “Did you like kissing me too?”
The person next to you slams the washing machine door closed. “Get a room, people,” she hisses before walking out of the laundry room.
“Nice advice.” Jeongguk gestures to the retreating girl. “Should we, Star?”
Your eyes are round in shock, mortified at Jeongguk’s suggestion. Though, you suppose it’s karma for kissing a stranger only for your convenience. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, type of shit.
When you’re still frozen after five seconds, Jeongguk lets out a laugh. “I’m kidding, kidding! Oh, God, you look so scared. Seriously, though, it’s totally okay. You have nothing to be worried about.”
Despite the huge sigh you heave, you’re still not convinced. “Are you sure? I completely understand if you’re mad, though.”
“I’m gonna be mad if you keep apologizing,” Jeongguk says. “Or, if you feel that bad about it … you could pay me back with a date.”
This time, his smile is hopeful. “A date, where you could tell me your real name, how you know Mingyu, and the story about whoever the hell that was that interrupted our kiss.” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow teasingly. “Then, we could end it the way we started today … with a kiss. If you want?”
“Oh, well, if it’s to pay you back for the kiss, sure…” you trail off, feeling weird about how the situation has come to. “Damn, when you ask for my consent like that it makes me feel worse for not doing the same to kiss you earlier.” You physically face-palm.
“Since you feel so bad about that, do you want to ask for my consent now?” Jeongguk looks at you with his big, round eyes, appearing innocent like a child. You wonder if this is the same boy you just kissed some minutes ago.
“How, like, ‘Hey, Jeongguk, someone I don’t like just walked in, can I kiss you?’” you say, half giggling.
“Sounds like a mouthful, maybe just the last four words?” Jeongguk licks his lips.
You tilt your head in amazement, your lips curving up into a small smile. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes you can, Star,” comes Jeongguk’s reply, his hands going back to your jaw. He gives you a wink before dipping down.
“Yes, you can,” he whispers before kissing you once again.
Maybe now you’ll look forward to your weekly laundry schedule—after a day of two classes at campus and one shift at the coffee shop five bus stops away from where you live—on Wednesday nights.
Because on Wednesday nights, a certain boy with big, doe eyes and unruly hair does his laundry with his huge laundry basket and calls you Star. This Wednesday night, he kissed you—uh, you kissed him.
Next Wednesday night … you’d just have to wait and see.
a/n: thank you for reading!! hope you enjoyed this drabble while we wait for bangtan to come back :')) also you can give me feedback here! :D
#bts#bts au#fanfic#bts fanfic#jeon jungkook#jungkook#bts fic#jungkook drabble#jungkook oneshot#jungkook au#bts jungkook#fic#bts college au#jungkook college au#jungkook scenarios#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you
235 notes
·
View notes
Text
NO SECOND CHANCES — Brother Day/Cleon XVII
Summary: A lonely space traveler happens to save from a certain death the most annoying person of the entire galaxy, the Emperor.
Pairing: Cleon XVII x female reader.
Word count: 8.1k. (oooops).
Warnings: well, spoilers for whole season 2. Language, angst (the reader wants to die, really). Talks about suicide, talks about suicide attempts, reader having nightmares, PTSD, reader is suffering too. Some hurt/comfort, some fluff? Filthy smut (included but not limited to hand jobs, unprotected sex, oral from both parts, dirty language, etc. etc.), and end of the world sex (to Beki's arsehole bitches yay🥂). Also Cleon refers to the reader as "woman" a couple of times lol. Reader has pierced ears? (wait for it). Bittersweet ending tbh.
Notes: just trying to make slow burn in a one shot because I'm a lazy fucker who doesn't like to write stories with chapters, otherwise I don't finish shit. Uh probably OOC Cleon??? I don't know. Fully inspired by my favorite trope ever: saving the bad guy and making him humble. I don't care we're four people watching Foundation, I need to write about this little piece of shit I love him so much. Cleon XVII is a himbo I said it. Not beta, we die like bitches of the Gossamer court.
☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !
Tagging: @curiouswildi hope you like it 🥺💘
GEN MASTERLIST!
I. BEYOND
The last thing wandering his mind was Bel Riose. Fucking Bel Riose. That idiot. They had won over him; over him, who was Empire and still meant to be for years ahead. Next, the cold feeling of space was embracing him. But he felt he was not floating around anymore.
Cleon was tied to a surface. It felt like harsh, uncomfortable metal under his back. He slowly forced his eyes open, moving his limbs and trying to escape whatever it was restraining him to do so. His wrists and ankles, as his waist, were tied by a light blue particle field preventing the patient to move at all. He was met with the roof of a ship and equipment, but it wasn't any Imperial one. In panic, he moved until he was able to shake the surface he was on, panting and grunting, feeling some pain and sting resurging all over him. The headache was becoming unbearable and the sounds coming from his dry mouth finally transformed into screams. The room doors opened and a strange voice catched his attention.
"Finally, you're awake."
Cleon obliged to follow the shadow moving around, his eyes focusing to try and see who was talking. He heard steps and the sounds of metal and glass clinking around, probably looking for medication and tools as he was know fully concius. The figure finally came to view by his side.
"I will inject this, so don't move," you said, grabbing his bicep. Cleon was about to protest, but the needle was faster and the medicine was welcomed on his vurnerable system, easing the pain and calming down the headache. "Welcome back, Eminence," you smirked to him.
"And just so, who are you?" he asked chuckling to himself, licking his lips. "What have you done to me?"
"First, I saved your life and cleaned all your bloody wounds. You should say thanks at least," you sat down dangerously close by his side, on the same surface he was on.
"I did not ask you for mercy."
"Oh, but I did," you replied, a smirk on your lips. "Perhaps I shouldn't have, right?" you took a small pencil-like device in your hand from the pocket of your pants and used it to scan his vital signs. You touched his face carefully with your fingers, examining his eyes, his heartbeat, and any anomaly that might be on his system from head to toe, but the scanner found none. Cleon watched you doing so until he asked again, his voice softer this time.
"Who are you?"
"Just no one as important as you are," you said, saving the scanner back.
"Where are we?" Cleon asked, looking around. He observed he was placed in a small medical bay.
"In space, in the middle of nowhere I suppose," you shrugged, getting on your feet again. "It seems you're recovering quite well and fast. At least that's what my scanner says. So first, I think you should want some water, which I am leaving right here," you put a flask on the small table next to him. "And before I give you this to drink, I want to make sure you will not restrain or fight back at me."
He laughed, that narcissistic smile on his face. You wanted to punch him.
"You're no match for me, woman."
"Really? Then I could just throw you out there again, you know, it's not difficult. I'm spending resources on you, surely I won't oppose to that idea," you snapped back.
His smile faded slowly, thinking. If it wasn't for you, he would be dead by now, it was true. But he was so used to be immortal and undefeteable that the situation was kind of new. He only had been vulnerable and exposed to his doctors in the palace, and you were a complete stranger. And still, you had the heart to take him in your ship and save his life. He sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.
"Fuck, fine. What do you want me to do?"
So this was his way of cooperating, you thought.
"After I turn off the restraints, you will have to sit down on the stretcher. I will help you. Do not try to get up yet, you might feel dizzy."
With a nod he said to you the orders were clear. Next, the restraints disappeared in the air with a push on a button and Cleon felt a small relief. As you promised, you helped him to sit and he realized that the clothes he had before were replaced with a set of new pale grey robes that allowed him to move freely. You offered the flask to his lips, but he watched you with a questioning look on his face.
"Is only water, I swear. See?" you had a small sip from the bottle and he looked more at ease after you swallowed the liquid.
You offered the bottle again and helped him to slowly drink. Once he was done, you placed a small tray with fruits and dry seeds on top of the same table beside the stretcher.
"You might want to eat something," you said, breaking the silence under his fixed gaze. Even when he was sitting down and you on your feet it felt rather intimidating. "I'm still collecting supplies and food. You were certainly not part of the plan these days."
"So you travel alone," Cleon said, taking a small red fruit between his fingers and began to eat it.
"I do," you nodded. "Sorry if the taste of the fruit is not pleasant."
"You're doing your best," he said while eating, studying the room around him. You were not sure if he was mocking you or not. "What was your name again?"
You chuckled. "You're very interesting, Empire. Why don't you finish eating and rest before taking a bath?"
The next few hours, you left him to rest and escorted him to your quaters, the only place with a comfortable bed, so he could get proper sleep. Since there were no further questions from him, you got to your business and requested more provisions to the merchants. Traveling alone had made you some contacts and traders, from time to time you would request for food giving in exchange money or rare knick knacks, and within a day you had a small capsule with supplements heading to your coordinates with everything you needed. You just had to wait for now.
After checking the estate of your ship and confirming everything was working correctly, you went back to your quaters to see how the Emperor was doing. You were startled to see him sitting on your bed with a book between his hands. He looked like he just had a bath because his shirt was gone and his hair was wet, some droplets running down his skin. Quickly, you studied him. He was handsome, muscular, his skin had a beautiful tan, and he was tall and heavy as hell, something you noticed when cleaning his wounds and taking him inside your ship. The earring on his left ear was also interesting, you thought, for a member of the most important dinasty of the galaxy. Very rebellious for the emperor.
You also knew he heard you steping in but never looked up from the book because he was the first one to talk.
"Never I could imagine you would have books in here," he said, clearly interested on the pages.
"Yeah, not all of us are barbarians as you work so hard to convice yourself we are."
He chuckled to himself, looking at you for the first time since you entered the room.
"Are you from Korell?"
"The book gave it away, didn't it."
"This is very old," he said, closing the book. "You are for sure not allowed to have this in Korell."
"That is one of the reasons I left," you replied, looking around the place. It was obvious to you that he was pearing within your personal stuff because the old myth book was secured down your mattress. At least he didn't leave a mess and everything seemed in the right place. "I was a threat in my planet so Argo kept looking for me for some conspiracy shit and terrorism when all I did was oppose myself to his repression and freakshow," you continued, his eyes drew back to you. "They wanted me dead in Korell, but I am the only one to decide that, even when and where will it happen."
Cleon shifted on his seat, wondering why you were sharing a piece of your life to him when he didn't even know your name yet. Words and thoughts wandered his head on how would he answer to your words, compassion or empathy sometimes were difficult things to feel. But before he was able to speak, you interrupted his thoughts.
"I will leave you alone to rest for a while and will come back when it's around supper. I follow Kornell cycle of time, so you know... Just don't poke around my underwear, Empire," you dragged his title mockingly.
He laughed softly, going back to his reading.
"Thank you for the idea."
That was the first time you would hear him expressing gratitude.
II. GHOSTS FROM THE PAST
Around more than a week passed, and Cleon was healing and his wounds were not so visible now. You made sure to inject him every day and gave your quaters and bed for him to sleep and recover. He had took a pad you had in the room so he could count the cycle of days in Trantor. Hardly to admit, he found himself missing home rather than hatred. Sometimes the rage mixed with sorrow, but he forced himself to try and understand that it was a normal feeling due to the sudden lose of everything he once had.
Cleon had been up from some time now as he counted the end of the eighth day on the pad, and wondered why your daily visit was taking so long. It was a habit you had, to come in and wake him up with the medicine, and after it was done, you would tell him to eat some of the fruits and food on the tray you brought for him. He got on his feet and put a shirt on before leaving the room to search for you. On the pilot cabin, you had an improvised, small stickable mattress on the wall that had saved your life before, so you used it to sleep and rest the past few days while he cured. Cleon observed your figure lying down on the mattress, walking slowly and sensing something was not right. He found you shaking and trembling, eyes still closed and chest heavily breathing as your hand held onto dear life what he realised it was a gun.
He felt somehow frightened and confused. If you wanted to kill him, you would already have done it. You had made yourself clear on that. The tremor of your body seemed it was increasing and Cleon, with a gentless he did not know he possesed, tried to soothe you with his voice, removing the gun from your embrace.
"Shh... everything is fine," he mumbled, not sure of his words, his other hand touching your shoulder in soft circles. He was able to withdraw the gun from your hands and placed it on the floating shelf near by.
Your eyes squeezed and some tears flowed down your face as you sobbed still in your sleep. Cleon hesitated on what to do next to wake you up. He leaned again, his hand slowly tracing the skin of your arm, like he did when his brother Dawn was a child.
"Woman? Wake up," he whispered, shaking you a little bit and pating your arm softly, and when he talked again, his voice was a little bit louder. "You're having a nightmare, wake up."
And as he repeated his words over and over, your eyes opened wide, feeling your lungs able to breath again. But your senses still were coming to awareness, and automatically you slapped the face of whoever it was touching your arm. You heard him groan in pain and you rolled over the mattres, until you hit the floor, taking out a small blade from below the makeshift pillow of fabrics you used. The blade pointing at him as you looked around the cabin to find out it was only both of you.
"What- are you okay?!" Cleon questioned with a frown, rubbing his hurting cheek as he remained on the other side of your bed, the only thing separating you from him was the mattress.
"Yes, I'm perfectly fine!"
He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Of course you are not."
"Then why the fuck would you ask that?! It's obvious I'm not fine!" you yelled. Your body was tense and ready to attack. You felt a knot on your throat, like if you were to cry again. Silence envolved you, trying to calm down. That inner voice in your head began saying it was just a dream, and you wanted to believe it. It was all in your head. It was not real...
"Do you want to kill me?" Cleon's gloomy voice echoed.
"What? No! I would never-"
"Then why are you sleeping with a damn blaster shot and a blade on your bed?!" he confronted, screaming at you, but not daring to move as you also remained standing in the same place.
"Because I wanted to kill myself!" you yelled back, pointing the sharp of the knife to you instead. His face became stern and you realised what you had said, and what was happening. Ashamed, you threw the blade back under the pillow. "Sorry, I don't want you to know that. Forget it."
You wiped the tears on your face under his piercing and concerning eyes. You forced your head to compose and burry your nightmares and memories deep inside before talking.
"I have to inject you," you said and walked back to the room, sure he would follow behind. Once you crossed the doors, you prepared the needle but Cleon remained standing near the exit of your room the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, observing you with utter worry on his face. Why? He really did not know. Probably because you were the only human and intelligent contact he had for days now, and you had the decency to keep him alive. Though he was not going to let that in his head - yet.
"Why don't you seat?" you most likely ordered. Cleon slowly made his way to you and remained standing, tall and kind of threatening. He was Emperor, after all.
"What is wrong with you?" he asked with a careful tone.
"Nothing, Empire. Just sit," you said, coldly, waiting for him to do as you requested.
"No, I need to know," he demanded, coming closer to you, jaw clenching. Anger started taking over your being and held his gaze as you replied.
"I have the right to decide whether or not speak about my personal life, I am not one of your subjects, so sit the fuck down so I can give you the last dosis of this shit."
"I need to know if I can fucking trust you after what I just heard coming from your mouth," his voice boomed around the place.
"You really want to know?! Fine, back in Korell I lost my family, my brother, my parents, my home - everything I had they took it from me! I was the last one alive and I escaped after they killed my brother in front of me and that day is still haunting me," you muttered and felt the tears forming on your eyes, but this time, of rage. "So if it concerns your own well being, like it always has been, no, I will not kill you. But you are no Emperor here, so stop that game. Some of us never gave a fuck about you or the Empire, or the Foundation and Hari Seldon, or the Church of the Galactic Spirit -I don't care! I'm tired, I just want to be free and live peacefully!"
You had not noticed you stepped closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. His face was blank, as if he had been slapped again, but this time to reality. A reality he was not familiar with on his own bubble.
Quickly you grabbed his bicep and injected the dosis with him standing up. He whined in surprise. It was fast. So fast that you just removed the needle from his flesh and left the room.
III. WHAT YOU REALLY KNOW
According to the Trantor cycle, evening should be now. When you left him alone in the room, Cleon spent the next hours by himself, and since he watched you looking up for garments and food around the ship before, he made sure to get those without speaking to you. Not that you wanted to talk either. He noticed you sitting on the main pilot seat, looking at the stars and the void through the glass the whole day. He got concerned for a moment, but decided to let you be as he, also, understood that some time alone was necessary.
However, Cleon thought to talk to you finally and say something. Anything to get you back to reality and forget your bad dreams. So he found himself making his way to sit on the other chair of the ship. He prepared the words to say inside his head, but it was more difficult to speak out loud.
"I think I owe you an apology," he finally said, taking in the view of space. You nodded slowly your head. Nobody turned to see each other.
"It's nothing. But apology accepted I guess."
"It's not nothing. I rarely thought about what other citizens and planets are going through... I'm so sorry it happened to you."
"I would like to say that was not your fault, but since the Empire withdrawal from Korell, living there definitely became so much worse," you confessed, very aware of the genetic dinasty and some of the things previous emperors did, which did not change much. They were the same man after all. Cloning again and again...
"Probably should apologise for that as well," he said.
"Yeah, it's too late, but thank you."
Cleon could still sense a feeling of resentment in your voice. He thought you were right to feel that way, but he was also going to try and make you understand him.
"I never had a mother, or a father, and my brothers are the same man as me, so it's hard to understand that some people lose their family and loved ones. I was born with that loss already... That's why I wanted to end the genetic dinasty."
"You are the eighteenth?" you asked, not knowing exactly why he was opening to you.
"The seventeenth."
"That's a lot of you though. Do you remember anything from the past?"
"I do not. But our memories are always saved. Everything that happens in Trantor is recorded and kept as data. If I want to know something about a previous Cleon, I would just request it."
You turned your gaze to finally see him, he looked in awe with space as he spoke.
"So what was your motive to destroy a planet?"
He turned his eyes to you. "I believe you didn't care about Empire or the Foundation."
"That doesn't mean I want to see a genocide, your Eminence."
Cleon stirred on his seat, with a strange feeling of guilt, sadness and regret. For some reason, the title falling off your lips made everything worse.
"You saw it," he said. "How? You're no part of the Foundation, at least you're lying to me."
"No, I am not! I did a stupid space jump without course and I ended here, unfortunately." You were growing tired of the conversation. "I don't know why we keep talking. We're both shitty people anyway."
Cleon chuckled, not to mock you, but because of the whole situation you were in together.
"I know you are. Brave enough to kill yourself, taking another life is nothing compared to your own."
You locked your gaze with his, thinking if he was he judging you or flattering you.
"And have you, like, tried to end with your life at some point? You must feel lonely, under the shadow of a clone, not allowing you to be, well, you."
He let out a deep breath, avoiding your eyes.
"I have not, but my genes are already compromised and adultered. No surprise if any of us dared to commit suicide before," he replied, looking to the void. "In any case, if something out of the ordinary is to happen to my brothers or myself, we have another clone with our same memories, same age, everything; prepared to be woken up and take our place. Like if we never existed."
"That's fucked up," you scoffed. "We are never trully free, are we."
You got on your feet to look up for something to eat and forget your small talk. You knew he had searched for fruits and dry food because you heard him moving around and then leaving a couple of times, but you had nothing through the whole day. Cleon followed your steps, leaving enough space between you both as you took a couple of apples, giving one to him.
"The jump, how did you do that?" he asked, taking a bite of the fruit. "You don't have spacers."
"The rebels are smart people. A lot of members of the Foundation replicated your technology."
"I thought you were not involved with them," he insisted.
"I am not, but I would never deny any help. That my support doesn't rely on them doesn't mean I will let a chance slide."
"You're not answering my question."
You pulled the sleeve of your shirt up to show your bare wrist to him. There was the same device Hober Mallow and the Clerics had, inserted on your skin.
"I use this.”
"This is a whisper ship," he mumbled.
"Smart. Yes, sort of."
Cleon scoffed. "So that means we can land somewhere."
"About that, uh, we can't."
He moved to throw the remainings of his fruit with a confused look. "Why?"
He heard your sigh as you covered your wrist again, looking away from his deep eyes.
"I- I threw myself to space because I wanted to kill myself," you started, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't care how long would take me, I just wanted to blow up my ship. Just end everything. But then I saw you, floating, dying... and for some reason I couldn't let you die. I didn't know who you were but I saved you. There's no energy or fuel to make another jump. I don't have that. We are far from what Terminus was now. From any planet, form of life or civilization... plus you are unarmed. You still are weak and anyone could kill you," you finished, and waiting for some reason that he could forgive you for giving him any sort of hope. "I'm sorry, Empire."
Beyond madness, Cleon felt you were worried for him. Not the kind of sentiment his brothers or palace workers would do, but a real one. Because you knew saving him was condemn him to death anyway. But this felt much better than dying alone. He had sins, past despiteful decisions and ghosts hunting him, as so were you. You just addressed your feelings and your life together in less than a day. And you were right, none of you were never trully free, but as crazy as it might be, being lost in space with you felt like freedom to him. Finally, he was far away from everything that was keeping chained to a life and responsibilities he never asked for, living under the shadow of an egotistical emperor.
There was a strong impulse growing inside him and before his rational voice began to scream it was a bad idea to continue, he had cupped your cheeks between his hands and his lips pressing hungrily against yours. You whined, surprised of the warm feeling of his mouth, his tongue hurriedly asking for permission to taste you. When oxygen was not enough you pulled away, shocked and panting. You barely noticed your hand around his forearm, recovering yourself from the best kiss you had in some time.
"Cleon," he whispered, kissing your lips one more time.
"What?"
"Just call me Cleon. I'm not Empire anymore."
You kissed him in response with the same eagerness he had before, heart beating strongly in your chest. His hands caressed every inch of your body, from your neck, breasts, your hips, your soft thighs, your ass... he touched you with desperate fire while you moaned against his mouth, liking where was this leading you, more than you wanted to admit.
That was the first time you gave in to him completely.
IV. TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED
You moaned against his lips, those that forcefuly broke the heated kiss you shared as he ruts into you desperately to reach his own climax. His flesh hitting against yours made an obscene harmony that echoed the confines the ship, far from civil and coherent noises fell from his lips as he sucked into the skin of your neck.
"Fuck, yes, right there," a broken whimper escaped your throat, your nails scratching his back, your walls clenching around his cock. "Cleon..."
The sound of his name being moaned by your sweet, raspy voice, caused him to slow down his thrusts just a bit.
"I still don't know your name," he whispered, bitting your bottom lip only to kiss you wet again.
"And yet you're fucking me, isn't that enough?" you teased, rolling your hips to meet his own.
He gave you a smirk, that fucking handsome smirk you hated so much. He took you with his strong arms, flipping you around so he was now on his back and you got control on top of him. You sinked down his dick setting a reckless rhythm, his thrusts matching yours every time you went down, his grip hard on your waist, marking and bruising your skin. One of his hands massaged your bouncing breasts, one after the other, pinching and then, you felt his mouth biting your nipples and chest, as he leaned your body to him for easy access, with slow grunts and groans that didn't sound human anymore.
His cock repeatedly hit that sweet spot from the position you were taking him, increasing the tension inside you. The sensation of his hands coming back to your sides and making its way to your ass cheeks to guide your bouncing hips became too much so soon. You cried as you felt drunk and high, muscles tense as you finally came. Cleon held you tight, fucking into you as you reached sweet release. His tongue traveled down your collarbone and breasts.
"Cleon," you moaned, your hands on his chest to support your body better. You felt him twitch inside you, knowing he was dangerously close too. Quickly, you slid off him, taking his girth, slick with your own wetness, between your hand you pumped him hard, easing his own release. His seed coated your palm, sprinkling on his abdomen.
"Shit, you're great," he praised, voice dark from lust. His fingers tangled into your hair, his forehead against yours as you recovered from the intense sex session you had for the second time that day. He kissed you sweetly, like a sweetness he only had discovered in the short time with you. "I wish I could know your name."
"You can call me your savior," you gave him a playful smile.
After a shared lazy kiss, you got on your feet, legs still shaking, and left the bed to clean yourself in the small place you called bathroom right next to the only room of the ship. Once finished, you threw the cloth away, and looked directly the mirror, or poor attempt of it. In the damp glass, you watched Cleon appear to embrace your body against his, your back touching his chest muscles and his hands roamed your abdomen while he left butterfly kisses on your shoulder. His big arms around you, pressing your figure to his own, huge in comparison entrusting protection.
The nineteenth day it was, and you spent it exploring your pleassures, talking nonsense and overall for Cleon, thinking he might love you. The confinement had flourished different kinds of feelings and sentiments inside his heart. He finally learned to feel something else besides hatred, power, or selfishness. The more you spoke to him, the more he grew to like you. You were far from perfect and so was he, and the way you opened your heart to him - the man who was to wed a powerful queen, govern thrillions of people around the galaxy and kill a few others - caused him to feel unworthy of anything coming from you. The man he grew up to be slowly disappeared as long as you had him under your light and spirit; his old self was fading away. And it scared him, but excited him at the same time. Even when he was very aware you were near the end together, he had nothing to ask for but to perish with you.
"What's in your head?" you whispered.
Cleon had no longer been tasting the skin of your neck, his chin pressed on your shoulder instead with his mind running a million thoughts by now. He took a glance at the damp and dirty mirror of how perfect you looked, bare and exposed in body and soul, only for his eyes to witness the true beauty of being alive. Of being human.
"You."
A loving smile curled up on your lips, looking directly into his enamoured gaze through the mirror. He decided he wanted to remember you like this in the afterlife.
You finished marking the last spot with an 'x', a wide grin over your face.
"I won."
"Yet again," Cleon chuckled. His laugh had grew sincere with you as he settled on the floor on the cold floor of the pilot cabin, just giving enough space for the board between you and him. "And what is your question, person-I-not-know-the-name-of?"
You just had finished playing another round of a silly game. It was an old Terran game, and you were surprised it made it this far across the galaxy. It was good to pass the time though. It kept you and Cleon thinking about other things besides dying. The fuel and energy, along with the water, were lowering on their levels. Food on the other hand was not a worry, you knew you could request to the traders as long as energy was functioning to make communication with them. However, the energy of your ship had to be loaded in land, just like fuel. And you had no place to go now to do that.
Being together as long as you had the resources was the main goal now. So many things crossed your mind as you talked about everything and nothing at the same time the past days.
"Have you ever been in love?" you asked after some time thinking.
You thought maybe it was the first time in Cleon's life that he was finally able to think and behave on his own, with no burdens about a dinasty to protect or pleasing his council.
He was taken by surprise as you spoke. He immediately remembered Demerzel, his loyal advisor. His relationship was merely sexual, but there were no feelings that would assimilate to what love is in reality. For sure, his own clone should have been woken up by now with no further consequences. For Cleon, it felt like he was actually erased from existence forever. He was disposable, just like his brothers. But thinking about your question, his answer was no. He never knew what love was. Not from Demerzel, certainly not from Dusk, Dawn was slightly different though, he did love Dawn but not the way you were referring to. He never knew the love from a mother or a father, nor family. Sareth hated him, so even if they got to marry he knew there would be no space for such sentiment. His own future children with the Queen of Cloud Dominion would have grown up without an essential part of being human.
"No," Cleon finally gave an answer, his gaze went soft as he realised what you just became to him in a matter of days. "However I sense something different when I am with you. And I don't recall to know what that is."
You smiled. "Isolation tends to create adjustments in those who suffer it."
"And have you?" Cleon asked back. "Have you ever felt it before?"
"I did... With my parents, my brother, my best friends, and a couple of assholes who broke my heart."
He chuckled, admiring the charm you had to brush off the hardships in your life. You smiled back at him. Gods you loved seeing him like this, like if he was happy and nothing had happened.
"And how is it?" he said.
"It's affection, it's addictive, not everyone can escape from it. You feel like you belong somewhere, that your life is strangely complete," you mumbled, locking your gaze with his own. "And it hurts a lot. But as you go through that path, you get to know the most beautiful kind of pain."
"Does it hurt now?"
You swallowed hard, that familiar knot on your throat. You were not expecting to feel this way. Not for the Emperor, not for the clone, not for Cleon. Yet one does not control love. You don't decide to love someone without a reason. And what else could two lost souls do in the middle of the galaxy with no purpose but to wait and die? You had opened your deepest fears and secrets to him, not expecting Cleon doing exactly the same. He trusted you and you trusted him. You slept in the same bed, ate the same food and fruits, fucked like animals everyday and yet there was an emotional connection in between you thought would never know again after so many years. How could you not fall for him when everything was crumbling? Finally, you nodded your head, feeling the tears burning in your eyes.
"I always have been alone, Cleon, but my soul seems to have a little love to give. In the end, love is what makes us human."
Cleon put the board of the game away and leaned closer to you, his hand caressed your cheek, cleaning the tears falling down your face as he pressed his forehead with yours. He kissed you softly, swallowing your pain, as a way to say he was hurting too.
V. VOYAGE
It was the thirtieth day on the ship.
Your last try to get and land in any planet failed. As much as Cleon told you to stop, that everything was fine, you felt you had to keep trying until your last day. But the ship was basically to zero fuel and soon energy will follow. You used the control panel of the ship, hopefuly to find a near by land, but luck was not on your side. There was nothing. You don't know exactly how many miles you traveled with no course for a month. It was getting beyond bearing.
Frustrated, you pulled away the holo of the map and the calculations you did in the air, throwing a lose screw of your seat directly to the glass. It did nothing, but you were starting to hate the view of the stars and nothingness sorrounding.
"I told you to stop that," you listened to Cleon, who seemed just arrived to the pilot cabin.
"I had to try," you stood up, walking towards him. Your arms embraced his waist and he took you in with the same warmth.
"You're worried."
"I am not," you whined. "I should have sent for help with the merchants."
Cleon broke your hug and cupped your face between his hands, leaning closer to you.
"No, we should end this now," he whispered, his brows furrowed.
"No!"
"Why not? You wanted to do it even before you found me."
"Because now ending me is ending you too!"
Cleon felt your pain, but there was no other option to make than to blow up the ship anyway. Even if you were to land somewhere, what was for him? You were not able to go back home, and Cleon was discarded at this point. The throne could not have two of the same in the middle. Hiding and running away sounded like a good choice, but still, where? There was nothing left, but he found comfort with you.
"I am okay with this," he said. "I told you. You have to do it."
"Cleon-" you plea was cut by his voice.
"How much time do we have?"
"I don't know, a couple of days at last."
"Then do it. You said you were to decide when and how you would die, this is the time," he remembered with a stern voice. "Take it."
You let out a shaky breath and pushed him to press your lips to his own, like saying goodbye. But you still would not accept this fate. Not like this. You kissed him with hunger and need, your tongues tangled up as your mouths danced together.
"I just have- I can't yet," you mumbled once the kiss was over, leaving you both seeking for air. "Can we just fuck each others brains again and pretend none of this happened for a moment?" you asked against his lips, your hand now on his cheek, caressing the stubble on his face. You always remembered to help him shave and that was one of the most normal things you had to do since you found yourself confined with him. The most casual and mundane things to do became
He nodded. "Yes, my love.”
Cleon kissed your lips with the same hunger and desire, his hands caressing every inch of you until he lifted you up, your legs quickly went around his waist. With eyes closed, you let him guide you to the bar fixed against the wall of your ship.
He made sure to throw everything that was on the surface to the ground to place you in there. Once you were sitting, he pulled your legs apart to stand in the middle of them, and full with lust, his lips and teeth marked your neck and collarbone. You moaned sweetly, palming his groin still covered with the fabric of his pants. He traveled down your breasts, kissing over your shirt until he took it off. He was lucky you decided not to wear bra anymore. He sucked on your tits and nipples, grinding his hips against your hand.
You tried to pull his pants away, but he finished the job first, pulling away from your chest. After his pants were discarded, his shirt followed. He also got used to no underwear so he stood exposed all for you. A true god he was, looking perfect and like if every inch of his body was created for you to worship completely.
Cleon hurried in getting you out of your clothes, and in minutes you were naked and feeling his tongue dancing on your belly. His fingers and massive hands teasing your thighs, avoiding the place where you needed them the most. You moaned when he finally used a single digit to rub your slit, collecting your wetness. He rubbed your clit, mouth going slow and dangerously close to your pussy.
You laid your back on the bar and Cleon grabbed your thighs to have you exactly at the edge of the surface, ready to eat from your heat.
"Cleon," you cried out his name, your fingers tangled on his hair as his tongue licked your most sensitive parts.
He kept your hips in place, fucking you with his tongue and licking your folds, going to your clit. You couldn't help but whimper and moan, removing his hair to see just how much he yearned your cunt.
You tried to roll your hips but his grip was too strong. He looked up to lock his dark gaze with you, his humming creating strong vibrations down your core. He played some more, using a finger to tease your entrance. You were about to cum just by watching him.
"Cleon, please-" you gasped when he inserted a finger inside you, thrusting slowly. "Please, I want to taste you too."
He stopped, looking your flushed face for a moment. Your eyes were begging to suck him right now. He released your pussy with an obscene sound, pulling his tongue and hand away, but your wetness still shined on him. You got on the ground with his help and started to kneel down, kissing his skin, from his chest and then abdomen, licking and biting to leave your marks on his sculptured muscles. You made sure to adore and suck the skin of his navel, knowing he was insecure with not having a belly button. Still without it, he was more human than he could ever get to accept because you have seen that on him.
Cleon grunted once your hand wrapped around him, his hand on your scalp. You gave him a far from innocent look from your position before licking the head, rolling your tongue around it, lubing it with your saliva. His desperate groans led you to wrap your lips around him, pumping with your hand what you couldn't reach with your throat yet. You had to learn he was big for you, so a little of warm up for your mouth was a good start.
He cursed under his breath, thrusting his hips a little to go further, slowly, and you welcomed his cock with a small gag once he reached the back of your throat. He moaned darkly, your rubbed your thighs together when he started to fuck your mouth. Both his hands taking the sides of your head as you choked and gagged around his lenght. You felt him throbbing but he quickly pulled out, and left you empty and with drool falling from your lips, your pussy now aching and clenching around nothing.
"So beautiful," he purred, the touch on your scalp soft now. "But I want to finish inside you."
You nodded, obedient. Cleon helped you to sit down on the bar again, he stayed between your legs, spreading them wide, you held onto him, arms around his neck. He entered slowly, the warmth of your walls swallowing his cock, inch by inch, until it disappeared completely inside your dripping cunt.
You shivered, broken moans falling from your lips. Cleon muffled your low cries with kisses, waiting for you to get used to him.
"Fuck me, Cleon," you mumbled against his swollen lips.
He complied happily, thrusting and pounding into your heat, with a frenetic and brutal pace you had learn to love. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, yor nails scratching his arms and back. His cock touched all the right places inside you and he whispered sweet nothings into your skin, fucking you right under the light of the stars and the void of space.
He moaned along with you, wishing heaven or whatever it was after felt exactly like this. Like you, with your arms around him, your sweet voice calling his name lovingly and whimpering for more, giving your soul to him and only him. Your walls started to clench and his hips stuttered, aproaching a craving release. But in between, he heard a word against his ear you never mumbled before, turning his lustful eyes to you and slowing down his thrusts.
You repeated it again, he was visibly confused but kept ruting into you.
"My name," you said, fingers now caressing his hair.
He smiled. He knew it now. The stranger who saved him had a name after all. Cleon kissed you fiercely, repeating your name again and again between wet kisses. You were close to release, feeling one of his digits rubbing your clit as you moaned together. The wave of electricity took your body first, clenching your pussy around his cock. Cleon followed soon after, rhythm slow and tense muscles, until he spilled inside you, coating your sensitive cunt with his seed.
Catching your breath, you remained together. He sucked on your neck softly, your name was the only thought inside his mind. And as much as you loved his touch on you, you remembered there was something to do still.
"Cleon," you called, getting his attention and feeling he was pulling out of you with a low groan. He looked at you with loving eyes and you smiled. You brushed his hair with your fingers pulling him to yet another smooth kiss. "It's time."
He knew it was. In silence his fingers found his earring, twitsting it and pulling it apart. He took it from his ear and placed it on yours carefully. You were always amazed at his touch, how rough and yet soft and gentle he could be.
"So you can remember me," he smiled when he was over. You let out a laugh and curved your llps in a grin. "It suits you."
"Thanks, Cleon."
Cleon leaned down to kiss you one more time before cleaning both of you. You dressed together as if you were not about to meet finally death. For some reason, you saved everything that was not on their cabinets or initial positions, packing all you could, like if you could take those belongings with you, most of which were from your family. One day Cleon asked why you had clothes that could meet his height, being taller than a lot of people around. You told him it was from your best friend. You thought every piece of clothes or souvenirs would help someday, but it never crossed your mind that it was going to be this way.
When everything was was done, you and Cleon settled in front of the control panel, however, before you could start the holo, a loud explosion could be heard. You frowned, turning to Cleon.
"Did you-? Ah!"
The ship almost overturned as something heavy hit the side, making you trip and fall over with Cleon on the ground. Again, an explosion was heard, far from the ship but clear enough to say it was getting closer, and seconds later, the ship got hit but this time on the glass, almost breaking it over. Quickly, you both stood up and saw what was happening.
"A black hole..."
"Look, there are debris around," you pointed a huge piece that looked the size of your ship, but that definitely was part of a much bigger one. You saw the debris and metal being swallowed and destroyed by the black hole. It wasn't pacing fast, but wasn't slow either. It looked like it was talking its time for much bigger things to eat, such as your ship. Cleon called you, taking your hands and pressing his forehead to yours. You could feel he was shaking, and your skin grew cold. You realised it was really happening now.
"Do it," he said. "Destroy the ship."
After a moment of hesitation, you gave a nod. He kissed you deeply again. You turned the holo to activate the ship and program its own destruction.
"Self-destruction mechanism activated," the computer confirmed.
"We have sixty seconds," you mumbled, tears already forming in your eyes. He cut you off with a kiss. You would miss those warm lips on yours.
"That's enough for me," he said. You smiled and he did the same.
"I love you, Cleon," you embraced his body with a hug. "I am happy I met this kind of pain with you."
He cupped your cheeks, pecking your lips, smiling down at you, saying I love you too. You, the one who saved him and gave him a second chance. Or at least a moment of relief. A place and a person who allowed him to be himself and find things he never knew would have.
"We have more in common now," he whispered. "We are both alone and hurting somewhere in the galaxy.”
#brother day x female reader#brother day smut#brother day x reader#cleon xvii#cleon xvii x reader#cleon xvii smut#foundation 2021#foundation fanfiction#foundation apple tv#foundation imagines#isaac asimov foundation#lee pace#lee pace fanfiction#lee pace x reader#lee pace smut#brother day foundation#foundation season 2
169 notes
·
View notes
Text
New York or Nowhere
Part six: It Was Always New York or Nowhere
Bodega Owner!Joel Miller x F!Reader
New York or Nowhere Masterlist
Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist
Author’s note: We’ve reached the end for these two 🤍
Chapter summary: Joel breaks some terrible news at your apartment. A few weeks later, you reconnect at Beldro’s.
Word count: 2.4k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, angst, friend breakup, talks of Sarah’s death, dub con (reader has consumed alcohol), oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (sugar, sweetheart), praising, daddy kink, no use of y/n
Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs
It’s been hours since you called Joel and told him the news. You knew he just couldn’t just close up the store in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday. So you resigned to comb the streets of Brooklyn by yourself, searching for Ellie but to no avail. When you finally get back to your apartment, you slump down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Dozing off, your dreams are filled with Ellie, where she could be, and how scared she probably is. She’s never left Joel’s store up until coming to your apartment. She’s either lost somewhere or… and you don’t want to think about this but… she could have crossed paths with the wrong person. Before your dream can delve into that further, a knock wakes you up.
Groggily rising from the couch and opening the door, you find Joel. He doesn’t look angry or worried but instead like he’s about to deliver some bad news.
He holds up his hand and speaks first, saying, “Ellie’s fine. She found her way back to the store.”
“Oh, thank God,” you sigh. The guilt of the situation is still eating away at you but at least you can rest knowing she’s safe.
“But there’s something else I wanna talk to you about, sugar.”
“Oh, okay. Do you want to come in?”
“S’Alright. This’ll be quick.”
“Okay…”
“I think we need to slow down, sugar.”
“Slow down?”
“We’ve been movin’ too fast.”
“Oh… Alright.” His words hurt but somewhere deep down inside you, you know he’s right. It’s barely been two weeks since you first walked into his store.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t try again in the future, sugar. I just can’t right now.”
“Right…” you say, looking at the floor, “Let me get you her carrier.”
You turn and walk back into your apartment, blinking back tears. You grab Ellie’s carrier and hand it back to Joel. He takes it in his hand but grabs your chin with the other. Looking into your eyes before kissing you one last time.
“Bye, for now, sweetheart,” he says before disappearing down the hallway.
You close the door and immediately head to your bedroom, collapsing on the bed and trying your hardest not to sob over a man you’ve known for such a short time. But it was probably for the best, right?
-
The next morning you wake up with puffy eyes and a pounding headache. You replay yesterday’s events in your head, everything from the way Joel woke you up, getting ready for brunch, getting drunk, realizing Ellie was missing, calling Joel, and him letting you down gently in your doorway. You think about the window being open, how long it was left open… who opened it in the first place.
Jessica.
She wouldn’t do that on purpose, would she? But after all the shit she’s pulled lately, you wouldn’t put in past her.
Following your hunch, you pick up your phone, calling her as you get ready for work.
“Hello?” she answers.
“Hey, I just had a random question,” you say.
“...Okay?” she says, already getting annoyed.
“Why’d you open that window yesterday?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? You don’t remember anything?”
“We got pretty fucked up yesterday,” she says defensively.
“Are you just deflecting?” you press.
“Nope,” she snaps.
“Mhm, I’m sure.”
“Are we done here?”
This is pointless. She’s never going to admit to opening the window on purpose. And you’re pretty sure arguing with her is costing you brain cells.
“You know what? I think we’re done here. You’ve been nothing but shitty to me and I’m tired of being your friend.”
“Are you fucking for real?” she scoffs.
“Yup. I am,” you say, hanging up the phone and flopping down on the bed. At least that’s over with. But you also don’t feel like seeing her at work so you pick up your phone and call out. Today’s a self-care day.
Four weeks later
It's been a few weeks since you last saw Joel at your apartment. You’ve avoided Beldro’s like the plague since then and neither one of you has called each other. You’re not sure when you’re supposed to pick back up with him, if at all. He said he wanted to slow down, not that he was done with you forever. He also never specified if you could see other people or not. You haven’t been anyway but what about him? Has he been fucking other women over the counter?
Probably not, the rational part of you says. But the anxious side of you tries to convince you that yes, he is fucking other women at his store.
Whatever, nothing you can do about it either way.
It’s a regular Wednesday morning. You’re heading to the subway stop by your apartment, about to make your morning commute. After swiping your metro card and passing through the turnstiles, you wait for the train.
Once it arrives you glance through the windows before it slows to a stop, not too crowded. You keep your head low and avoid looking at others like you normally would when you take the subway anyway. But once you sit down and look at what’s across from you, you see him; Joel with Ellie’s carrier. He’s looking directly at you, a soft smile on his face.
“Hey,” he says, putting his hand up.
“Hi,” you respond.
“Going to work?” he asks.
“Mhm. What about you? Where are you off to?”
“The vet. Getting Ellie microchipped.”
“Probably a good idea,” you chuckle.
The conversation falls flat, with both of you avoiding eye contact with each other. But for some reason, now feels like the time to ask him the question you’ve been secretly thinking about this whole time.
Why did he move to New York? He’s clearly not from here.
“Joel? Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Why did you come here?”
“Like why did I move here?”
“Yeah.”
“Moved here once my daughter, Sarah, passed. She was fourteen.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Joel.”
You had no idea. He never mentioned her.
“S’alright. Happened a long time ago.”
“But why here? Why New York?”
“It was always New York or nowhere, sugar,” he says with a smile.
The train comes to a stop and he rises from the bench,
“Well, this is our stop. See you around, sweetheart,” he says with a wave.
He steps off the train, looking back at you one more time before walking out of the subway station. You think about what he said. It was always New York or nowhere. You have to agree with him.
Two weeks later
You’re at a bar with Charlotte and Nathaniel. The night is coming to an end but before you all decide to go home, you decide you need a little treat. Drunkenly stumbling out of the bar, you start to make the journey to the nearest bodega. Which, of course, has to be Beldro’s. As the green awnings come into view, Charlotte asks, “Are you sure? We can go somewhere else.”
“I’m fine, Char. We’re pretty much there already. I’ll be fine.”
She nods, letting you lead the way to Beldro’s. The bell on the door jingles as the three of you pile inside. Joel glances up from his… iPhone?! When did that happen?!
“Look who upgraded,” you tease.
“Good to see you, sugar,” he says, “And you two as well,” he adds, glancing at Charlotte and Nathaniel.
You stay at the counter as they grab their snacks, eyeing Joel up and down, taking note of how good he looks.
“How have you been? Noticed you’re down one,” he says, referring to Jessica.
“Yeah… We’re not really friends anymore,” you respond.
“Good for you. She seemed mean,” he says.
“She was,” you chuckle, “How have you been?”
Just as you ask, you feel Ellie circling your feet beneath you. You bend down to pick her up, holding her as you talk to Joel.
“I’ve been alright,” he says.
The small talk is… okay. But you really wish he was bending you over that counter again. Charlotte and Nathaniel return with their purchases but Joel doesn’t charge them.
“Someone’s feeling generous tonight,” you joke, setting Ellie back down on the floor.
“You gotta be sometimes,” he says, shooting you a wink.
Charlotte and Nathaniel bid him their thank you’s before leaving, waiting for you outside.
“Bye, Joel,” you say, walking to the door.
“See you around, sugar,” he says.
You take one final look at him before meeting your friends outside.
“You okay?” Charlotte asks.
“You know what? I am,” you say.
Just as the three of you start to walk away, you hear the door open followed by Joel’s voice saying, “Wait up!”
You turn around to find him hastily locking the door and heading over to you.
“Can I talk to you?” he says.
“You guys can go. You don’t have to wait for me,” you tell your friends.
“You sure?” Nathaniel asks.
“She’s sure,” Charlotte says smirking at you before waving goodbye and grabbing Nathaniel’s arm, leading him down the street.
“I’ve been thinking about us a lot, sugar,” he says, grabbing your hand.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah and… I’d like to try again… if you’ll still have me,” he says nervously.
You close the gap between you two and kiss him, something you’ve missed doing for weeks on end now. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. The kiss grows needier, more passionate by the second, evidence of how much you two missed each other.
“Come with me,” he says, abruptly pulling away and grabbing your hand. He leads you a couple of feet over to the cellar doors on the sidewalk. He unlocks them and opens them, gesturing for you to walk down the steps.
“You’re taking me to your basement? Never beating the creep allegations, are you?” you tease.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get in there,” he says, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance.
You head down the basement steps, with Joel following behind you. He closes the doors and reaches for the light switch. The light flickers a few times before turning but it doesn’t do much to provide actual light. His hands are immediately on your body, palming your thighs and groping you over your dress. You let out a small gasp as his hand moves to your underwear, pulling the fabric back and snapping it against your skin.
“Get these off, sugar,” he says, sliding your underwear down your legs. He bends down and picks them up, stuffing them into his pocket. His hands immediately grab your hips and spin you around so you’re facing the stairs.
“Bend over for me,” he softly commands.
You do as you’re told, bending over and placing your hands on one of the steps. You feel him kneel behind you, pulling up your dress and hooking his hands around your thighs. He kisses the back of your thigh before bringing his face to your cunt, inhaling deeply and taking in your scent before dragging his tongue along your entrance. Your knees buckle underneath you as he eats you out, tongue swirling expertly around your clit. Your body shivers as the muscles in your core tense up in anticipation of release. You cum with his face taut against your cunt, his basement filled with the sounds of your mangled moans and whimpers.
“Good girl,” he says, kissing the back of your thigh again, “Such a good girl for daddy.”
He rises from the floor, giving your ass a squeeze with one hand while the other pulls his cock out of his pants. He rubs the head of his cock, against your sensitive cunt, teasing you as he talks to you.
“Stay just like this. You’re doing such a good job for daddy,” he purrs, pulling his cock away to gather your release on his hand. He spreads it on his cock before hooking his hands on your hips. He pushes into you slowly, cursing under his breath as he fully sheaths him inside you.
“Fuck, sugar. I missed this,” he says, drawing his hips back slowly and slamming into you.
A whimper escapes your lips, growing louder and incessant as he fucks you harder, reaching forward and grabbing you by the throat. He pulls you upright against him, never dropping the pace of his thrusts.
“That’s right. Take daddy’s cock like a good girl,” he says.
You’re unable to form a complete sentence, letting out nothing but a string of cries, whimpers, and moans. Your walls tense up in preparation for your orgasm. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes, your thoughts filled with nothing but Joel and his cock pounding into you.
“Gonna cum for me, sugar? Let me feel it,” he says, his grip around your throat tightening. You cum for a second time, feeling your release spill out of you, soaking his cock and running down your thighs.
“Fuck,” he curses, coming inside you with the head of his cock buried deep inside you. The pace of his thrusts grows sloppier as he fucks you through your release and his. But once he feels himself go soft, he pulls out of you and pulls you close against him, kissing the nape of your neck.
“I missed this. I missed you,” he admits.
“I missed you, too. So much for taking things slow,” you chuckle.
“Fuck going slow. It’s for the birds,” he says, absentmindedly kissing your neck up to your ear.
“So you want to try again?” you ask.
“Was that clear enough?” he laughs.
“Shut up, old man,” you laugh, “When did you get an iPhone by the way?”
“Last week. Thought of you when I got it. Figured you’d give me shit for it.”
“Give you shit for it?? I’m overjoyed I can actually text you now,” you tease.
“Text me all you want,” he says, kissing your neck one last time before letting you go, “Let’s get out of here, though.”
“Where to?”
“Your place, if you’ll still have me. I’ll bring Ellie.”
“You know I could never say no to her, Joel,” you say, walking up the steps back to the sidewalk. Joel locks the door and lets you back inside the store, scooping Ellie into her carrier before locking up again.
You back to your apartment hand in hand, feeling like all is right for once– down a shitty friend and back with your man (and his cat) by your side.
@pedrostories
#new york or nowhere#bodega joel#bodega owner!joel#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#joel miller au#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#joel miller pedro pascal
159 notes
·
View notes
Note
Dream's family is convinced that Hob is a gold digger; after all he's just a bartender/teacher/quirky small business owner, he must be with Dream for the money -- no one ever chooses Dream for his personality. Besides, Hob claims he didn't know who Dream was when he met him, the whole family is famous, how could he not.
I read this and got the idea of Hob being like. Totally clueless about certain things? His friends joke that he was raised as a medieval peasant. Maybe he was in a kind of commune situation or his parents were just weird, but every so often he'll be like,, "What's a DVD player?" And he absolutely means it. He still doesn't really use the Internet or social media, and while he's a very good bartender he does sometimes just completely miss pop culture references.
("You don't know who Take That are?! Where were you in the 90s?" "Oh, funny story, I actually had a job sheering sheep in the middle of nowhere and we didn't really have a radio.")
Which is why he doesn't know who any of the Endless family members are. But it's not just that! Maybe Dream is an actor or a model, but Hob has just,,,, never heard of any of his work. If he's modelled for Versace? Hob is saying "who?" with this cute frown between his eyebrows. After they actually meet, Hob makes a point of researching stuff about Dream to get to know him better and to be able to hold a conversation with him. He actually gets to be an expert on Dream’s career! And he loves telling people facts about how cool and successful his boyfriend is.
Dream LOVES that Hob is like this. Partly because Dream is quite similar - knows a lot about his special interests, knows nothing about basic life skills. They understand each other. But it is kind of incredible to know that Hob really did pick him because of who he is as a person. He wouldn't even care if Hob takes all his money at this point. Lets be real, Hob would probably just spend it on some very strange antique furniture for the bar. But he's too busy being weird with his boyfriend to care about money anyway <3
189 notes
·
View notes
Text
Drinks and kisses
Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader
Summary: Four times you drunkenly confessed your love to Lockwood and one time you did it sober.
Warnings: alcohol consumption (OC is not an alcoholic, she just can't tolerate alcohol), English is not my native language
Word Count: 2,6k
For the story I used some of the Drunken Love Confessions from @creativepromptsforwriting, please check out her blog
Living the life of an agent aka child solider was most of the time gruesome. After dusk as the adults hid behind silver fences and thick walls, you and the other kids dared to venture into the dark night to fight against ghosts. Every agent knew another who had died on a mission. Life was pretty depressing if you didn’t take it in your own hands to enjoy it.
Therefore, at Lockwood and Co., you celebrated every so little milestone and achievement. While Lockwood, your boss, landlord and crush, and George sometimes drank beer, you only drank alcohol at you little celebrations. To say that you could handle your liquor, was an exaggerated lie.
The first time you told Lockwood, that you liked him more than a friend was at one of this so-called parties. Lockwood and Co. had just finished a big case. That was reason enough to get together and drink.
It was already late that night, the song on the radio floated through the room and Kipps was asleep on the couch. Lucy was nowhere to be seen and George and Holly were in one corner of the living room lively talking about cooking.
However, you only had eyes for Lockwood sitting in his favourite armchair. His hair was shining so nicely, and you really wanted to touch it. Would it feel under your fingers as soft as it looked? That thought should have been warning enough that you were drunk. But drunk-you wasn’t smart and neither discreet with your staring. Everybody who took one second to watch you with Lockwood, would realize that you liked him. Thank God Lockwood was an even bigger idiot than you.
“What are you thinking about, sweets?”, broke Lockwood the silence between you two and normally, caught in your staring, you would have looked away. But normal-you and drunk-you were two totally different persons. Drunk-you was loud and bold, while normal-you shied away.
“About you”, you declared honest, and sober you would have never said something like this. However, drunk you didn’t even blush.
“About me?”, echoed Lockwood confused and reminded you by doing so of a puppy. You loved puppies.
“You’re cute. And a bit blurry. But definitely always so cute.” The words just tumbled out of your mouth. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't have been able to stop them. But drunk-you didn’t know something like regret. Before Lockwood could say anything, you took a page out of Kipps books and just felt asleep.
The next morning you had no memory about what you said. At breakfast Lockwood acted like always except his ears turned a little red when you asked him for the butter. But you were too hungover to pay attention.
The second time happened at Lucy’s birthday party. The birthday girl and you were dancing in the middle of the living room, downing one shot after the other.
You intentionally ignored Lockwood, who warned you to slow down. Maybe that was a mistake. Or the five tequila shots were a mistake. Or both were a mistake.
Anyway, one moment you were dancing with Lucy, having the best time of your life and in the next moment you felt awful. Pressing your hand over your mouth you made a beeline for the next bathroom. You barely made it to the toilet before you threw up.
Hurrying footsteps sounded behind you and then someone held your hair back. With a small whimper you puked again.
“Just let it out then you’ll feel better”, he whispered softly while he caressed your back. Sober-you would probably have sunk into the floor in shame. But hanging over the toilet bowl you were too drunk to care.
You didn’t know how long you puked your soul out of your body. Lockwood had taken a seat on the floor behind you and didn’t stop rubbing your back.
“Can you keep a secret?”, you slurred and rested your head against his shoulder. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him nodding.
“I have a crush on Lockwood, but you can’t tell him or anybody else.” He laughed, and you could feel the vibration of his chest.
“I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back.”
“But you can’t tell him or anybody else”, you repeated urgent. You couldn’t imagine that Lockwood liked you back, and you didn’t want to make the atmosphere in the house awkward. Therefore, Lockwood was never allowed to know how you felt about him.
“I swear, let’s get you cleaned up and in your bed, sweets.” Fishing a washcloth from the sink, he gently wiped your face. Then he scoped you up in his arms and started carrying to your room.
The third time:
Bright giggles echoed across the attic.
“No-no-no it wasn’t like this”, Lucy laughed while taking another sip from the vodka.
You just returned from your case to a waiting Norrie. Norrie was Lucy’s girlfriend and was visiting her in London.
As you had stumbled through the front door, Norrie had already handed you a bottle of vodka.
Now sitting in the attic, you slowly nursed the alcohol.
“And how did it go in your opinion?”, asked Norrie, who was telling an embarrassing story about the time Lucy and her had still worked in the northern part of Great Britain.
“First it wasn’t so embarrassing how you make it sound.”
“Sure”, you butted in as you and Norrie shared a meaningful glance.
“Don’t join forces against me”, Lucy demanded, not blind to your actions.
“We would never!”, giving her an appeasing kiss, Norrie took the bottle from Lucy.
“Why does it feel like you’re lying to me?” maybe a little bit paranoid, maybe appropriately paranoid, Lucy raised one eyebrow. You meanwhile tried to look as innocent as possible.
Of course, you would join forces with your best friend’s girlfriend against said best friend. Where else was the fun?
Seeing through your innocent act, Lucy pointed accusing her finger at you. “As punishment you have to get the snacks from downstairs.”
Rolling your eyes, you stole the bottle out of Norrie’s grip and took a big sip. Leave it to Lucy to find an excuse to not go down all the stairs.
But it was OK, as long George and Lockwood were still not home from their case. If George caught you stealing the snacks, he would demand that Lockwood would revoke your biscuits rights. So, there was a big risk associated with getting the snacks. Was it a risk worth taking? Drunk-you said yes.
“I will be right back”, with a wink to the girls, you picked yourself up.
You noticed immediately that you were drunker, than you had thought. Your steps were a little wobbly and the world was turning more than usually.
But you lived more than two years in this house. You knew which floorboard creaked and how many steps each of the stairs had. With your eyes closed, you would find your way from the attic down to the kitchen. So being drunk shouldn’t be too much of a problem.
You should be right for most of the way. You already reached the last stairs down to the kitchen without tripping over your own feet, when the front door flew open, and Lockwood and George came clattering in. Normally you weren’t easily startled. You were an agent for gods’ sake. But you were drunk and hadn't expected their loud arrival.
You weren’t sure who was more surprised. You, who lost your footing and tumbled down the stairs, or Lockwood, who was standing at the bottom of said stairs. At least he wasn’t drunk and therefore had quicker reflexes than you. Instead of stepping aside and leaving you to your fate, he caught you.
For a moment nobody said something, there was only a shocked silence between you.
“I think I just fell in love with you”, you drunkenly joked.
“No, you fell down the stairs. You should really learn to hold your liquor, sweets”, Lockwood told you stern, without letting go of you. But you saw the creeping blush appear on his face.
“I get her a glass of water”, clearing awkwardly his throat, George rushed to the kitchen.
“You drive me out of my mind, sweets”, whispered Lockwood against your hair, but you were too busy getting lost in his scent. He smelled of lavender and bergamot. Your favourite smell in the whole world.
The fourth time you told Lockwood, that you loved him you were drunk, shocking you know.
You just came home from evening with your old friends from Rothwell and as always, you easily became too drunk.
Usually when someone of the team went out after dark, Lockwood waited for them to come home. This time was no different.
As you drunkenly stumbled out of the night cab, Lockwood was already opening the front door.
“Hi handsome”, you greeted him without shame.
“You’re drunk”, he blandly stated, but his eyes were sparkling like someone stole the stars from the sky and hide them there. He had beautiful eyes. You could spend hours gazing in his eyes.
“Yes”, you admitted before a wide grin took over your face, “and hopelessly in love with you!”
Pushing past him, you stumbled into the hallway. Behind you, you could hear Lockwood taking a surprise inhale.
However, you were already busy with your next task, taking off your shoes without falling over.
“Say that again after two coffees at least and I will be yours”, he whispered barely for you to hear.
Then he rushed to you, “Sweets, let me help.”
Getting on his knees he carefully unclasped your shoes. Where his hands touched your bare skin, it felt like you were burning.
“We should get you some water.” That sounded like a really good idea. Allowing Lockwood to take your hand, you let him pull you into the kitchen.
“I hoped you had a great evening”, he carefully led you to your chair before he went to the sink and got you a glass of water.
“It was sooo great, only you were missing!”
“Maybe then I join next time”, Lockwood mused taking a seat in front of you.
“You should, my friends really want to meet the person, who stole me away from Rothwell.”
“And I would steal you again, sweets. A shame that you will not remember this talk tomorrow.”
The one time you told him what you felt while being sober:
It had been a nerve-wracking case. You felt like a wrack when you finally reached Portland Row. Everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong, and you were lucky that all four of you were still alive.
Stressed you all went separated ways. While Lucy rushed to the attic, you scored the first shower to remove the remains of salt and sweat that stuck to you like a second skin.
When you return to the kitchen after the shower to get a glass of water, you expected to find it deserted.
After a case like this the team usually retreated to each of their own room to lick their metaphorical wounds in peace. You were no exception.
Therefore, you were even more surprised when you saw the light shining from under the closed kitchen door.
Not bothering to knock you entered the room, to see Lockwood sitting at the kitchen table, in front of him the open first aid kit. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, and you couldn’t help gaping. Slowly blood was seeping out of a large wound, you didn’t know about. Caught, he looked up when you entered.
“That’s not what it’s looked like.”
“So, you didn't hide from us that you were injured?”
Not waiting for his answer, you could lie to yourself, you pressed a compress on his wound to stop the bleeding. As reaction Lockwood just took a sharp inhale and a little part of you were glad, that it hurt.
“We are a team; we can’t help you if you don’t let us”, you started to lecture him. But as Lockwood looked down ashamed your anger vanished into thin air. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long.
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I will always worry about you”, you paused for a moment, not sure if you should really say what just popped up in your mind. But then you gathered all your courage and did it, “I will always worry about you because I love you.”
Your heart was beating like crazy, while you waited for a response. But now it was out and nothing you could do could undo it. That was somehow liberating.
“I know.”
On the list of the worst reactions after a declaration of love, “I know” was at the top. You didn't know whether to cry or to scream. However, in the end you couldn't do either. You could just stare at him while your mouth dropped open.
“You know?”, you echoed and could feel how something in your chest broke into two parts.
He knew that you loved him and never said something. That could only mean one thing, he didn’t feel the same way you did. Shame slowly crept into your face.
“You already told me one, two, or maybe four times”, Lockwood explained to you and if it were up to you, he would have simply remained silent.
He didn't have to try to reject you nicely, what he said was already enough for you. Standing up so quickly that your chair flew over, you tried to escape from the kitchen, but grasping your wrist, he stopped you.
“You already told me, that you love me, but there was never a good moment to reveal to you, that I love you too.” In total disbelief you gasped at him.
He must be joking. Couldn’t he have told you this sooner instead of sending you on this rollercoaster of emotions?
“You love me too?”, you echoed and slowly started to feel like a parrot.
“Yes, I love you, sweets.”
“Why couldn't you say that right away?” Technically, you should be floating from happiness that he reciprocated your feelings. But you were just angry. Before Lockwood could answer you, you continued, “and when did I tell you that I love you before?”
No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't remember it.
“You told me this four times when you were really drunk.”
“And you never thought to talk to me about it the next day?” Flabbergasted you shook your head. You just couldn’t believe it.
“I wasn’t sure if you really meant it and I didn’t want to embarrass you either.”
Up in the hallway, George discreetly listened to the loud voices.
“Didn’t she just tell him that she loves him?”, Lucy asked, also attracted by the noise.
“Yes.”
“But why are they yelling? Shouldn’t they be kissing or something like that?”, confused Lucy wrinkled her nose. Taking his eyes off the closed kitchen door, George looked at her.
“In response to her confession he said, “I know””
“What an idiot!”
“But an idiot in love, it seems.”
Back in the kitchen your chest rose and fell angrily. Still, you couldn’t believe that he had been aware that you liked him, and never acted on it while also being in love with you.
“You are an idiot, Anthony Lockwood.”
The biggest idiot you knew.
“But hopefully your idiot?”
Instead of answering, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, softly at first but with growing intensity. When you separated you felt dizzy.
“Yes, you are my idiot.”
#anthony lockwood#lockwood & co#lockwood & co fanfic#lockwood and co#anthony lockwood x reader#lockwood netflix#fanfic#lockwood x reader
217 notes
·
View notes
Text
Katsuki wasn’t good at remembering to be mean to Izuku in middle school
This is more of a headcanon than an actual theory, but I think that there is solid ground for thinking that while Katsuki consciously disliked and was mean to Izuku, unconsciously he was fond of and even occasionally friendly to Izuku.
There may have been breaks in Katsuki’s derision, maybe even long ones, where he was able to talk and have conversations with Izuku that were totally amicable and nice. An example:
This is right before the entrance exam. Mic has explained that Izuku and Katsuki will be in separate arenas for the physical exam, and Katsuki turns to Izuku and basically says: “so I guess we’re separated, huh?” Izuku is surprised, but answers readily enough.
Then, in the next speech bubble, Katsuki remembers himself. “Don’t look at me!” He says. But he was the one to start the conversation. He was the one to be amicable, first!
Katsuki, distracted and interested in the upcoming test, forgot to be mean to Deku for a second. Then he remembered…
And he backtracks even more! In the first panel, he says that they’re separated so that they can’t help each other. Now it’s so that Katsuki can’t crush Izuku. A total switch in the reasoning and perspective! His expression darkens too. Is he regretting that he can’t crush Izuku, or is he berating himself for his slip-up? Hmm….
Applied, I think that this means that Katsuki’s and Izuku’s relationship wasn’t completely straight forward in middle school. Most likely there were times where Katsuki accidentally treated Izuku like the friend he subconsciously thought of him as.
Maybe they had pleasant conversations on their walk home from school sometimes. Maybe Izuku asked Katsuki for help on a question during a study period and he helped. Maybe Inko dragged Izuku over to the Bakugou’s occasionally, and maybe Katsuki didn’t feel as self conscious when it was just him and Izuku. Maybe he and Izuku could hang out just fine, actually, when it was one on one.
It makes sense, because where we are in the manga now we know that Katsuki has strong, positive feelings for Izuku. Those didn’t appear out of nowhere! They’ve been there the whole time, Katsuki had just buried them for awhile. But children, and especially emotionally-constipated ones like Katsuki, aren’t good at hiding their true feelings. They come out sometimes, or a lot of the times! So most likely, I think that Katsuki exposed his true feelings on occasion and was friendly and even fond towards Izuku.
This would explain a lot of Izuku’s behavior as well. I think many people, when they first read the manga, think: why does Izuku even care about this jerk? Well Katsuki’s good and admirable qualities get revealed over time. But also, it would make sense if Katsuki sometimes treated Izuku as a friend, and Izuku was able to not only see, but to experience, Katsuki’s good qualities.
(In some ways though, this is almost a sad theory! Because poor Izuku probably experienced some emotional whiplash before he either caught on, or got used to it.)
So yeah, I think their relationship has never been straightforward, and that they have always been weird as hell about each other.
Who wasn’t weird as hell about their friends in middle school though?
264 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dissect Me, Doctor - ,, yandere JPM with a psychologist reader
cw(s): yandere themes, dismemberment, suggestive themes, (James) necrophilia, noncon touching, cannibalism, mention of reader having breakdowns & panic attacks
✧ James found you by God's hand one fateful day. You could say it was more than a mere coincidence, eh? He had just finished killing one of the hotel guests. He was about to call Miss Evers in to clean up the mess when he spotted something sticking out of the dead gentleman's breast pocket. He plucked the card out of your pocket and read it allowed, 'Doctor...' His curiosity was the least bit piqued. Psychologists weren't exactly popular in the 1930s. The true study of the mind hadn't emerged, but James had always lived to study humans. To study their fight or flight instinct, how their bodies react to various torture methods, and how fear affects the human psyche. Perhaps he has found someone who shares his fondness for such things. It would be a great way to meet someone new. Considering Elizabeth refuses to speak with him, he has grown desperate. Not even defiling his killings tapered his already suppressed desires.
✧ He got Sally to teach him how to use this magic witch named 'Wi-fi' who owns the internet—or something like that. Most new technology is just rubbish used to get people to make inauthentic connections. Although perhaps just this once, it can be used for the betterment of his temperament. He has Sally schedule an initial appointment at the hotel. Sally uses the excuse that James is bedridden and terribly ill (non-contagious), but he hates telehealth and just wants someone to talk to in person. You were skeptical because of the rumors surrounding The Cortez, but you were in desperate need of another client, and he was willing to pay extra—a lot extra.
✧ You had your first session in his room, and you immediately got strange vibes from him. He wasn't ill, that was for sure. Perhaps he was a little pale, but he probably hasn't gotten enough sun or vitamin D lately. He was even smoking! He was sitting all relaxed on a couch, dressed up in 1930s-esque attire, with a cane leaning against his lap. He introduced himself as James Patrick March, and you immediately understood why you were called. He either has a personality disorder or is a compulsive liar. Perhaps both. You asked him simple questions, such as his real name and when he was born. You were only getting nonsensical answers. He could not have been born in the late 1800's or early 1900's; that is ridiculous!
James only felt himself grow hotter with each question you asked. It was like a fire had been lit beneath his skin, and he needed to put it out. Then you asked the question that really got him going.
"Since you refuse to use your real name, I'll just call you Mr. March. How is your personal life going? Are you currently sexually active?"
"I have peculiar interests and refined tastes. How do you modern people phrase it? 'Where there is a hole there is a goal'?"
✧ With that astounded expression on your face, he feels his urges compell him to end this lovely conversation early. That look would look perfect on your dead corpse. He takes the sabre out of his cane and tries to slit your throat; he narrowly misses. Somehow, you unlock his room door and bolt through the hallways. How promising. He walks through the winding hallways slowly. You scramble to find the exit, and he struggles with not just outright chasing you through the maze. No, he must preserve the hunt. After what feels like an eternity to you—only eleven minutes in real time—you finally trip over a stair and hit your head on the railing. Talented fox. You nearly escaped to the lobby. You are too much of a challenge to let go so easily. He's going to keep you to get his release. In more ways than one.
✧ You wake up in the middle of the night in the same room as before. It's freezing, and your clothes are nowhere to be found. Your head is pounding, and you are barely able to breathe. James drugged you with some cocktail of drugs—some legal, most not. You feel blades ghosting your body. You feel them just barely slicing into your skin. It must be sleep paralysis, you rationalize. Something whispers sweet nothings into your ears. You are barely able to discern what those words are.
"You taste... a dream."
"Never leave."
"The best prey— never leave me."
✧ You drift off once again before groggily waking up in a different room. You are still in the Cortez, now in room seventy-four. You feel much different today, weighed down and yet free. You don't have any marks on you that would indicate you were harmed last night. You feel the need to escape, but you are also incredibly confused. A maid is in your room, setting down a new set of clothes. She explains that you passed out after you tripped on a stair while leaving the session early. You accuse her of helping the strange man you interviewed who tried to kill you. She chuckles and says that you aren't his type. Her voice has a little bit of spite in it. That was the moment that you were introduced to Miss Evers. Quite possibly the only person who simultaneously envies you for getting all of James attention and pities you for your lack of self-awareness and intelligence in the situation.
✧ Before you are even able to shoo her off this JPM impersonator comes in your room and greets you. You are naturally apprehensive. He is naturally enthralled to see that his trophy prey has awoken. He cannot wait to just see how you react today. You try to leave and he explains that you never finished your session. You accuse him now of trying to murder you. He brushes it off and insists that you at least have breakfast with him before you leave. You are about to answer firmly when Miss Evers folding of a towel loudly snaps together. This 'James' scolds her and she gives him a doe-eyed look. Before you are even able to say no he is ushering you down the hallway in silken pajamas someone put on you while you were passed. The thought makes you shudder.
✧ You both were served a hearty and delicious breakfast. It isn't very filling to you, no matter how much you eat. It must be how queasy you are from yesterday. If it happened. Perhaps you had a mental break due to all the stress you have been through lately. You don't get a lot of time to think because you are snapped from your thoughts. This James speaks about your future together and how you will have a long and fufilling relationship. He asks you to give him a psyche evaluation. When you say no, he subtly threatens you with the thought of not paying because you didn't actually fill his full session. You reluctantly agree.
✧ He's both incredibly frustrated and intrigued by your persistence. How many times must he explain to you that he isn't a 'cosplayer' or someone with a personality disorder. He is simply the great James Patrick March. No matter. It will make you even more fun to play with.
"Your delusions, doctor, are clouding your mind. So I suppose I will have to make you see the truth—one way or another."
He sets up small 'challenges' to see if you can pass them. He wants to test how long your mental fortitude will hold up.
✧ The first of those was dismembering himself in front of your very eyes. He does it multiple times, and they are all random. He will pluck his eye out and stir it in his tea. He will cut open his chest and stuff his organs into your suitcase. He will remove whatever is covering his neck and finger from his suicide wound. He asks if you would like to feel it, stroke it, touch it, or play with it.
"Doctor, I understand you only deal with the human mind, but would you like to feel this and assess if it is real? Do you believe me now?"
He will stab himself in the heart during one of your sessions and tell you that this is what you do to him. In the most extreme cases, if he isn't getting your coveted attention, he will take himself apart limb by limb and place them on your bed like a cross.
✧ You begin to come to terms with the fact that, at least, this man is psychotic. Perhaps not a ghost, but definitely a killer and wickedly sadistic. You try so many of the phones in the hotel, but so many seem not to work. You try to find your way out once again, but you seem to be trapped within these walls. Which comes to one of his many other tactics: trapping you in The Cortez's hallway maze. He is able to distort the minds of his guests and make sure that they never get out. Like a rat trying to find an escape from a box maze that has no exit. He enjoys just slowly walking behind you and taking in your panic and your quick breaths when your clothing rides up on you. He is able to take a respectful peek at what he will inevitably see time and time again.
✧ He keeps you trapped in the hotel. You never even have a chance to get to the lobby. He has a nice breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you. He has his daily sessions with you. Outside of that? His torture. All of his torture. All of it. He threatens you with it subtly if you do something that he is displeased with. He'll even lock you in that death closet of his and make you stand right near the spike. Sometimes you prefer to be in there because you can hide from him. He likes it when you hide in his death traps. So he totally leaves you alone and totally just doesn't sit right outside your ability to view him.
You are coming to the point where those times when he is cordial are the times you crave. All part of his plan, of course. Although—he hopes that you will keep up the chase, he likes that fiery spirit of yours.
✧ You often find him getting release from his dead victims. You know because your relentless cycle of agony and pleasure stops. At least he doesn't force himself on you when you are awake. You end up doing your best to stay as far away as possible from him during that time. Only you always end up stumbling into the same room as him. You avert your eyes, yet he always has something cheeky to say to you.
"Ngh—darling, darling, wait! This.... this could be us. This could be me. You and me. Nothing could be a replacement for how your flesh feels against mine."
He always turns around and gives you one of those godforsaken winks of his.
✧ That isn't the only time his victims come into play. You are always suspicious of the food he serves you. It's either drugged or the meat could be made from his victims. You first learned that the hard way. You were served meatloaf, and James called in manloaf. He stated that it was made in this very hotel by the very guest who was trying to help you leave. You wanted them so bad, you can have them—in your stomach.
✧ Not even the Countess is able to help. Not that she tries. She is too busy luring more men in. She's forgotten about James mostly, except for the betrayal. She gives you a few warnings and some caution when she can. You are almost like one of her children. Perhaps she would help you if you really were in need. Maybe.
✧ You still get those sensations in your sleep. The feeling of fingertips ghosting on your figure. How the sheets seem to slip off your body. A warm presence keeps you close throughout the night. It often manifests in such strange dreams. It feels like James's thoughts are being injected into your own mind. You dream of him against you—sometimes he is brutally murdering you, and in others he is sensually caressing you. He always seems to tease and taunt you with those tantalizing images in your mind.
✧ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ — You often have panic attacks and breakdowns because of him. Your heart rate quickens as sweat rolls down your body. Your legs shake and give in. The entire hotel seems to spin around you. You have to seek him out for your own comfort. It's so twisted and vile. You can feel bile rising in the back of your throat when it happens. You almost have to crawl on your hands and knees to reach him. Yet, it feels like heaven. His skin is so soft and supple. His suit is always made of the most comfortable materials. His body is always so cool to the touch. In those moments, your body melts into his. That is, until your mind stops its dissociation long enough to realize the trauma you were going through. You are falling for him—a classic case of Stockholm syndrome. You couldn't stand for this. You need to fight against this, against him.
✧ Unfortunately, your non-belief in ghosts stops when you see multiple people you thought were dead trying to warn you. You see your patient, who was killed in this very hotel. They tell you that they're so happy to see you. They are so happy you are here with them. You have to put on your therapist hat again and calm them down. It all clicks. Other people you thought were guests here were warning you. You are being oddly welcomed into the space. The others are cautious of your presence and afraid to upset the owner, the one who holds so much power over them. That strange being that seemed to flicker in and out of your peripheral occasionally. You finally make peace with the fact that James Patrick March is indeed a ghost. You really do need to escape here.
✧ You steal the hotel's shipping schedule for their toiletries and linens. You make a plan to escape. You think you are so clever, and it really makes James hot under his white buttoned collar. He lets you think that you are so much more astute than him. It makes him a little desperate, but he won't show it. He needs your touch so badly. He needs you to love him so badly. He needs you to be his little trophy victim. He needs you to help him chase his highs. He needs you. He needs you. He needs you. You, only you.
✧ He confesses his undying adoration for you and clings to your waist as you try to walk out. He sighs and tries one more tactic before you step out the door. He promises to tell you the entire truth. You are caught off guard by this, and your hand slips off the door. He leads you to his trophy room and shows you his 10 Commandment killings. He directs you to the corner, where your body lies. You are covered in wounds that have long since dried out. Your eyes are lifeless. You have his name etched across your naked chest. You scream, shout, and sob. James gently holds you and soothes you even as you thrash, kick, and gnaw at him.
"You've been trapped here the entire time. Since that night."
As if that makes it any better. You aren't that stupid. You could connect the dots—lack of appetite, coldness, the odd sensations, everything. You are stuck with this monster for all eternity.
"Hmm, yes! I saw you and just knew that I had to have you. Have you gotten my diagnosis yet, my love? It's lovesickness, and your body is the cure."
.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐
⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @marchsfreakshow @girlyfart @nahoyasboyfriend
.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐
#american horror story#yandere#ahs#ahs hotel#yandere american horror story#yandere american horror story x reader#james patrick march#jpm#yandere jpm x reader#yandere james patrick march#yandere james patrick march x reader#yandere headcanons#ahs yandere headcanons#ahs headcanons#ahs fanfiction#jpm x reader#james patrick march x reader#headcanon
104 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sheltered
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader
Summary: Natasha bandages up the reader in after a long mission.
Words: 946
The pain that seared through your body did nothing to overcome the deep chill that had settled in your bones.
Harsh winds rattled the windows. Rain hammered against the worn wooden walls and streamed through the breaks in the corrugated steel roof. Water pooled in a muddy sea that stretched to every wall of the dilapidated shed. You sat on a wooden table—the only moderately dry spot you could find—doing your best to hold still while Natasha Romanoff stitched up a deep gash on your upper thigh.
Natasha pushed the needle through your skin and you groaned, resisting the urge to flinch.
Even with the pain meds coursing through your blood, it still hurt like a motherfucker. You weren’t surprised. You hadn’t hoped for much when you had taken the single ibuprofen. There was only three pills between you and Natasha and her dislocated knee, burgeoning black eye, and possible concussion won out over the deep cut in your thigh.
Natasha pulled the thread through your flesh and you let out a faint whimper. You laid back, resting your mud-and-blood coated hair on the damp table. The table wobbled and groaned. You held your breath for fear of the table falling apart beneath you. That was the last thing you wanted to deal with.
“This can’t be any worse than Venice,” Natasha said as she begun to thread through your skin again.
You laughed, which turned into a stifled groan at the sharp pain that spread over your chest. Broken ribs. Probably multiple. Too bad there was no bandage or stitch that could lessen that pain.
You said, “Things can always be worse.”
“But not as bad as Venice.” She finished her stitch and grabbed onto a bandage, pressing it onto your skin.
Holy fuck it hurt, but you couldn’t show that. Natasha had already had to step in to stitch the cut when she saw your hands shaking as you prepared to pierce your skin. You blamed the adrenaline. Your blood still pumped from the hours of creeping and fighting your way through a Croatian intelligence base and the hours of running it took to find a place to crash for the night. What you didn’t want to say was that it also came from the fear that fluttered through your chest. The paranoia of wondering if someone would track you down and find you while you slept, the worry that you wouldn’t be able to get out of the country and back home to Russia, the fear that once you did you would be shipped out on another mission the moment your feet touched the ground.
It wasn’t that you weren’t fulfilled by your life, because you were, but fear was the one thing that couldn’t be solved by truth. You loved working for your country. You fought for those back home who couldn’t fight for themselves. You held your country up, guarding it from outside threats. You made it safe and you made it possible for wealth and joy to prosper. There was nothing in life that could make you feel more complete, more purposeful, but no matter what you did, that fear continued to cloud your mind.
You were lucky that Natasha hadn’t pointed it out to your superiors. If she had, you wouldn’t be fit to fight for your country. You would be a pile of bones at the bottom of some middle-of-nowhere lake. For that, you owed her your life. She was too stupid to not know it, yet she had never used it against you. You weren’t entirely sure why, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
You pushed yourself up into a sitting position. Natasha eased herself off the table, her boots squelching in the mud. She walked to the driest corner of the shed and picked up the bag she had sat there, throwing it over her shoulder.
“Get off the table,” Natasha said, her voice nearly drowned out by the torrential downpour.
You nodded and got off the table, doing your best to keep weight off of your leg. She took the table, flipped it over and pushed it up against the corner. She threw the bag onto the table then carefully sat down, taking care to not bend her knee. If it wasn’t hurting now, it sure s hell would in the morning. You made your way onto the table, slowly lowering yourself onto the floor beside her.
Water and mud rose through the cracks in the wooden slats, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You let out a breath and leaned against the damp wall.
Natasha pulled a handgun out of the bag and rested it on her lap, her finger a breadth away from the trigger. She trained her eyes on the door that opened into pitch darkness. She inched herself closer to you until your shoulders were touching. It wasn’t much, but that small connection chased away some of the cold that had embedded itself into your bones.
“Sleep,” Natasha said. “I’ll wake you up for the next shift.”
“All right,” you said, then let out a slow breath.
You allowed your body to calm, to give in to the sleep that nagged at the back of your mind. You needn’t stress now. There was nothing to be afraid of. That would come in the morning. Now, you just needed to rest. Your body needed a break. It had, after all, been on the move for the last 30 hours. And Natasha was there to guard you from whatever came until you were awake and once again ready to face the world.
#natasha romanoff x reader#marvel#natasha romanoff#avengers#avengers fanfiction#natasha romanoff fanfiction#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff x female reader
266 notes
·
View notes
Text
YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL
pairing: fiancé!hyunjin x fem!reader
genre: comfort, fluff, a little suggestive in the end
warnings: insecurities, problems with food & feeling guilty after, swear words
a/n: hii, i’ve never written abt hyunjin so i hope i did well! i’m sorry i didn’t post in so long i’ve just been struggling a lot lately and i couldn’t find the energy + this was written at 1 am sorry if smth doesn’t make sense (not proofread yet) 😭 also please read the note at the end, it’s very important
ᯤ now playing: young and beautiful by lana del rey
— 시작
your body started panicking as you felt everyone’s eyes on you. you looked around the room, trying to figure out the reason. was it your makeup? or did you eat too much? your dress probably looked horrible on you too. it was all of them, maybe. you started to walk, looking for you fiancé, hyunjin, who was nowhere to be found. he had left you alone in the middle of the party with all those unknown people.
as you moved you heard a group of people calling your name “y/n! come here” “y/n, come talk with us” “y/n!” “y/n!” you tried to escape but suddenly one of your old friends caught your wrist and made you approve her and her husband.
“wow, you look really different” she said “did you gain weight?” she asked as if that wouldn’t hurt you “yeah, i guess…” you whispered trying not to cry. it was the third time they said this to you tonight and you were started to get anxious. why did they only look at your body? why couldn’t they talk about your success?
“oh, that’s good too eh! i didn’t mean it in a bad way” she tried to fix it, but you were already overthinking. you didn’t want her to pity you. “look, i really have to go, it was nice to see you, bye” you answered quickly as you ran away, trying to look for hyunjin.
when you finally found him, you sighed in relieve and ran to him. thank god he was alone, you wouldn’t be able to bear with any other comment about you. as you ran, he looked at you, confused by your worried eyes and desperate speed to get to him. “what’s wrong, my love?” he asked gently, trying to calm you down. he knew something was off as soon as he saw you. “let’s go home” you whispered as you clung onto him.
“why?” he waited for an answer but it didn’t come. you didn’t want to explain yet, because you knew if you talked, your eyes would fill up with tears and you’d start to cry desperately. “let’s just go, please, hyunjin” your cracked voice told him everything he needed to go home. that’s when he decided to say goodbye to some people near him and he ran with you to the car. he quickly started driving without any words.
you felt bad because you knew he was really excited to come to this party, and you made him go home for a stupid reason. it had been 10 minutes in the car and you were still far from home. the way he didn’t say a word made you feel terrible, was he angry? did he really get mad at you? it wasn’t your fault. or was it? did you exaggerate it too much?
“i’m sorry i ruined your night” you whispered, trying to stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. 
“ruin my night?” he asked gently, which surprised you “yeah-“ you tried to continue “you didn’t ruin my night, if you’re uncomfortable then i have to take care of you, and you didn’t seem very happy. it was getting boring, anyway.” he stated as be continued to drive. a single read fell down your cheek but you wiped it as soon as you noticed it. you couldn’t let him see you in that state. “thank you…”
you spent the rest of the drive home silent, and when you got to your place you ran to your bedroom as fast as you could, leaving him confused in the entrance, though he followed you seconds later. when you got to you room you almost immediately broke down, falling on the bed and letting your tears fall continuously without thinking that your boyfriend may hear you. you really didn’t want him to know, really, but you couldn’t help being loud while remembering all those things everyone said to you hours before. after all you went through, every meal you didn’t eat, every tear, every time you yelled at someone because they wanted you to eat, every time you fainted, all that for nothing at all? you suffered so much, you really thought you got better but they made it look as it was nothing with all the anger and sadness you felt with their comments.
you felt his hands grab your waist and try to turn you around for you to look at him, but you refused to let him see your red eyes. “baby, please talk to me” he said gently while he rubbed your back. you finally acceded, but you hid your face on the crook of his neck. “love…” he started, but he didn’t get to finish the sentence because you cut him off “why do they always have to comment on my body as if i don’t see myself in the mirror every fucking day” he separated you from his body so he could look at you. your eyes connected and his showed his worry and care.
“what did they say?” he asked as he brought to back into his chest. you didn’t answer, letting your sobs be heard “y/n, what did they say?” he questioned again, while he patted your hair “they said i looked worse, they said i gained weight…” you whispered with embarrassment “everyone’s eyes were on me, hyunjin, everyone was staring at how bad i looked” he was about to let his jaw fall to the floor but he stopped himself as it wasn’t what you needed right now. he was so shocked, because in his eyes you were more than beautiful. how could someone think that dress looked bad on you? god, he almost died when he saw you in that gorgeous black dress.
“bad? you looked stunning, y/n” he answered, speechless at how you talked about yourself “you’re saying that because–“ he cut you off as you did before “i’m saying that because that’s how it is, i’d say that if we were friends, strangers or even enemies, because you looked like a work of art. you always do.” he answered sweetly. your sobs where barely audible now as you has calmed yourself hearing his voice. now all that was left was your breathing. you looked at him with a smile, still with puffy eyes and hugged him again. “thank you…” you muttered “it’s fine, darling, you don’t have to thank me” hyunjin promised
“i was scared i would have to go through everything again” you justified yourself, but it wasn’t necessary now. “shh, you won’t, not as long as i’m here. don’t ever say that about yourself again, mhm, beautiful?” he kissed your forehead and continued “god, i don’t know how anyone could ever think that way about you, i almost couldn’t control myself when i saw you” he said, making you blush and you hit him lightly “shut up, dumbass” you said, still hiccuping from the intense crying but laughing, and he did the same.
he put you into the bed an caressed your hair until you felt tired and wanted to sleep. you had wasted too much energy already, you felt so exhausted. “princess, if someone every says anything like that to you again, tell me and i’ll make sure they never say that again” he whispered.
“i love you”
…
“i love you more.
—
A/N: hello so, i wanted to talk about the struggles with food as someone who’s had an eating disorder for six years. if any of you struggles with food, please look for help. remember that food helps us, without food we’d be dead. you need to eat, it’s necessary. please don’t give a fuck about other peoples opinion, because they don’t know the real you, and they don’t know what’s really going on. to stop eating is bad in so many ways, your health will worsen, you as a person will change and you will lose people. i’m talking from experience, with my ed i lost a lot of friends, i fought with everyone and i was always in a bad mood.
throughout my life i have been judged by everyone because of my body and valued without thinking about my personality, my intelligence or my maturity. some people only care about your looks, that’s true, but you mustn’t be embarrassed for the body you have, because good people will know you’re worth much more than just what they see. you’re not your body, you’re your favorite song, your favorite film, that melody you sing in your head when you’re bored, you’re that quote in a book you once read and never forgot of. you’re that time you helped someone who needed it, that sunrise you once saw, your favorite clothes. you’re your favorite flavor, your favorite season, your favorite singer, your favorite color. you are what you like, not how you look like. so please, eat what you crave and don’t restrict any foods. i love you for who you are. and if you’re struggling, my dm’s are always open, don’t be scared to ask for help. i love you, unconditionally.
#skz#straykids#ficcidio#stray kids#hyunjin#hyunjin x reader#kpop#skz fluff#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin angst#stray kids x reader
192 notes
·
View notes
Note
If you are still doing the Fem mc can you do a one with Floyd or Idia
Floyd is forever A tier man. Also I have been thinking of being a bit more self-indulged with these fem mc and friends asks since they did begin as self-indulgant fics for my oc lol. I find myself being able to write more creatively - trying to have a fem mc that everyone could insert themselves in or see any kind of interesting changes in is hard because frankly, the only thing about such a blank slate is that they are female.
while my own OC is also female and that does play a part in the little shenanignags, I also add a bit of her own personality and thoughts to make it a bit different (and as i said self-indulgent)
Plus, I honestly really struggled and disliked the riddle one, where I tried to not put any characteristics of my oc in there to make it more 'appealing' for anyone. But I found this just doesn not work for me.
I will do this one request with my OC in mind if that is okay!
Fem!Mc And Friends - Floyd Leech
Everyone, run! Before you get squeezed.
Floyd Leech is a weird combination of predictable and unpredictable. It can be expected to be looked down upon, threatened, challenged and squeezed by Floyd, yet when it comes to whatever he decides to stick with and spend his time on, he is a wild card.
Unfortunately, you are one of the many things he has decided to spend his time with. The little, jumpy 'Shrimpy' he came across.
And while he seems to stick to others and 'affectionately' refer to everyone with ocean-related names, he still seems...especially attached to you...
When You Spend Helloween Together...
Why would you spend Helloween with him? Are you crazy?
This is probably Floyd's favorite holiday on land. Dressing up as scary things (aside from himself) with the intention to terrify the crap out of anyone who crosses him? And he can get away with it? Who cares about some treats when he can carry out some tricks?
Even if you try to stay far, faaaar away from him Floyd will be sure to find you~
Where's Shrimpy, Shrimpy, Shrimpy~? Oh, are you dressed up, too? That's cute. You think you're gonna scare anyone with that?
Nothing scares Floyd and he still has the same kind of opinion of you since day 1. A meek, tiny shrimp. So he doesn't think you could pull any tricks anyway.
On top of that you are magicless and just a little girl in his eyes. Sounds mean but try as you might, he will never acknowledge you as 'bigger' or 'taller' even if you are.
Will first show off his costume (isn't it neat?) And threaten to terrify you right after (there's enough bandages to bind you down into a coffin).
Floyd always and I mean ALWAYS loves to mess with you but on this special day he feels like going all out. Scaring you, popping out of nowhere, acting like a real Zombie and like a bite from him could kill you??? You tell him off but he also acts like he believes what he says???
You may be a lot of things but no Zombie.
Hehe, you sure? Wanna try it out :) ?
He especially likes to tease you with his nickname for you. There's just something about it when you startle and jump up like these cats on land while he spooks you :) why can't Helloween be everyday?
Also your scared expression are just *chef kiss* to him. Will try every trick in the book to just...indulge in these shrieks and screams of fear.
And when he finds out you have a fear? Scared of the dark, spiders, thunder or oooohh zombies? Hehe, you're never getting rid of hiiiiimmm, Shrimpyyyyy!
Floyd would especially love it if you let out girly yelps or shrieks. He is surrounded by dudes in NRC so someone really girly is just interesting and more fun to tease.
Stuck in a haunted house with Floyd? Haha, help. Seriously, call for help!
Floyd is not stuck in a haunted house - the haunted house is stuck with Floyd. And you are right in the middle.
It feels like each scare and trick is being terrified into submission by him. The guy gets quickly bored out of his mind that he decides to spook the entire house. But besides that, he sticks with you and loves watching your reactions.
You will wish for the protection of Malleus and Deuce, because Floyd will not lift a finger to help or comfort you. He'll hang over your shoulder with that stupid, gleeful grin on his face (and the fangs near your flesh!) And laugh at your misery.
:(
But I feel like if something truly awful were to happen to you - maybe someone took a trick too far or made you cry - Flyod maaaaybe could become scary to everyone but you. Huh? Hey, you cannot terrify his Shrimpy that much. That's his job. Look what'chu did. Better get out of his sight.
When You Watch Him At His Club...
Oh boy. You can expect a lot "Hey, Shrimpy! Hey, hey! Over here, Shrimpy! Shrimpy, over here!"
He most likely threatened invited you to his basketball Club, no matter if there was a game or practice session.
It isnt thaaaat bad...Ace and Jamil are there too and they are miles more mellow than Floyd is if you ever need someone like that.
Ace will be a bit confused on why Floyd would invite you while Jamil is just hoping the guy will actively play for once in one go. Not when he feels like it.
Yet when you arrived, there Floyd was, taking you into his arms so tight you were lifted off the ground and squeezed so hard you thought you couldnt breathe.
Floyd is so happy to see you! Did Shrimpy come just for him and watch him play? Huh, did'chu, did'chu?
Also he would still hug you if he was covered in sweat and would not care. It'd be even funny if you were grossed out by it.
However...against all odds, Floyd would actually play - and go all out!
Even if it were practice, he is brutal. After each shot, he'd spin into your direction with arms shot up. A huge grin on his face. He's expecting you to watch him and only him.
Though if your attention is somewhere else, he'd pout and tell you to watch him! Look how much he's destroying the others!
In fact, you're supposed to cheer for him! Be Floyd's 'cheerleader' as he says. There's bunch of games where there's a girl cheerleader team that hypes up the audience and players! Do that for him! You got no choice if you don't wanna get on his bad side
Ah, should he get you one of these 'pom-poms'? You'd be so cute with them!
It just feels kind of special when the only girl in NRC is cheering for him. It's like in one of these movies!
Say a cheer that just consists of his name. Just that! Don't mention anyone else!
If you do pay attention or cheer for someone else, Floyd will not like it. Observing the other player like a hawk and leering at them with his classic 'huuuuh'? Even if they are on the same team.
Will do his best to kind of get your attention back on him. That can go from fouling the other player to telling you in your face to watch him. Him.
It can cost them the victory but Floyd wouldn't care. The sole reason why he even decided to come is because he dragged you here.
Ace is weirded out and Jamil's trying not to fume in anger.
When You Are Stranded On An Island...
Well. This isn't anything...novel for Floyd.
He IS from the ocean so a beach isn't something that would surprise or unnerve him. The sight of sand, the ocean, palm trees and the lovely sunlight...is rather boring to him.
Islands like this exist everywhere. Why should this one be any different?
Well, you are here for once.
And so are people like Crabby and Goldfish! This is sure to be fun!
Floyd will drag you to every place he finds interesting. Beaches are familiar to him so he can show and teach you anything! He's an expert in a way!
Collecting things is actually a dull activity to him. If you show any interest, he will just...drag you off. Maybe haul you around. If you say they are meant ad souvenirs, he still wouldn't budge and tell you these are boring trinkets instead. He knows much better stuff, come on!
His favorite thing to do is swimming for sure! Expect to be thrown into the sea and him quickly following after you. It doesnt matter what you are wearing, he will force you to swim with him.
Floyd will turn into his eel form and just drag you further and further into the seaaaaa~
Ace is getting worried and Riddle is screaming at him to return at once! You are supposed to find a way back to NRC!
It's kinda akin to a horror movie.
And since you two are so far out, you'll have no choice but to cling to him~!
Don't worry though, as much as Floyd teases and messes with you, he will never put you in any harm. He knows the sea better than anyone else.
He just likes having your arms around him and vice versa!
Floyd especially likes it when you're just a taaaaad biiiit scared and cling to him as if you'd never let go. It's just twice the fun and extra cute.
But hey, if you are already out here, why not explore a bit? He can hold you as you dive into the deep blue and catch some fish or anemona, spook some crabs or get some souvenirs from there! Anything down there is way better than on some beach!
You could be like a mermaid then! Don't you wanna try it?
Just act like your legs are fins and maybe let your hair open - oh, ya don't want to?
Meh, fine.
On another point, Floyd is not used to wear these vacation...swim...beach wear or whatever. But he guesses it's neat. Especially the sunglasses.
He would really like it if you wore ocean-related clothes or things. It just looks good on you.
Swimwear or bikini though? It's interesting wear but also...intriguing?
He's never seen something like that, the closest thing he knows are from mermaids. But well, they are half fish.
But on you...it looks good. Floyd would stare at you. Not shamelessly but more so out of curiousity. Shrimps don't usually look like that, you know?
Just wants to have fun with you.
#Request#twst#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#floyd leech#I think Floyd would just really like a girl shrimpy#It's different and therefore more fun~
110 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
jasakitchenset-blog
Jasa Kitchen Set
foureversblog
Без названия
beybladeninja
Welcome To My World
timesuck2000
i guess it's k-pop now?
ubixl
Leigh