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5eraphim · 5 months

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Just saw ur lovely request are open once again,but I want to see some headcanons between zed and maynard when you- a former mercenary that left the war- comes back to check on the team- only to be terrified and creeped out by the surroundings.

And upon exploring inside- you find yourself to get lost upon the building..and when you saw a resemblance of your old teammate; engineer you couldn't help but be relieved..in a hurry you went over to him- and began to ramble and talk to him in worry..however you noticed something was off by the way he acts..he doesn't seem to know you..he seems surprised.. and when you call him dell- he even chuckles as if he finds it funny..

He offers you to go somewhere else- saying it's not safe- being lost and naive- you follow- making him actually lead you deeper inside.

You used to work here- why did this place suddenly became complex for you to wander around?

But then suddenly an another engineer appears and you panicked, raising your only weapon up towards them, but the engineer beside you stops you- taking the gun away from you.

You became confused- telling him there's an enemy right in front of you and he just laughs. You hear the supposed enemy engineer ask who you are- calling the engineer you first met- maynard and you became more confused and panicked as you realizes that this guy wasn't the same engineer you worked with.. and well.. this rambling could go even further with them trapping you inside the conagher slaughter house.

I 100% forgot you wanted this "headcanons" style, and drafted the entire oneshot before I Realized. I hope that's alright with you! Thank you so much for the request, I really hope you enjoy.

Title: Where He Once Stood

Characters: Maynard and Zed (Emesis Blue)

Rating: M (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: Reader is gender neutral, x reader, implied forced intimacy, power imbalance, deceptive abduction, slight amnesia, yandere

Word Count: 3.7k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

"The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved." (Jeremiah 8:20)

"Even blood washes out, or you can fill your mouth with things that hide the taste." Sophie MacKintosh, Excerpt from "Cursed Bread"

You thought you knew your way around this place; you'd been around these parts plenty of times before. Sure, some years had passed, but that didn't explain how utterly lost you felt wandering Dustbowl. You ditched the war ages ago to find your own way in life, and you were content with that. It wasn't until recently that you decided you wanted to catch up with your closest friend from your time serving, Dell.

As a Sniper, you didn't interact much with the Engineer, but it wasn't your time on the battlefield you remembered fondly. It was his warmth and kindness at the end of the day, how excited you would get meeting up with him and the rest of the team for breakfast every day, despite knowing the grim work in store for you later in the day, and all the other moments of levity during such a dark time in your life. He was a good man, much too good to be stuck fighting the war.

The flashlight's beam did little to cut through the intense darkness overhead, and you could tell rain was due any minute now. You expected navigation would be tricky, but this was absolutely futile. The longer you wandered, the more your brain fog intensified, making you feel like a small child lost in the dark looking for their mother, jumping at shadows and fearing the sound of wind whipping overhead was the voices of ghosts.

Mindlessly, you fiddled with the strap securing your rifle to your body. Passing by a reflective window, you did a double take, catching your reflection. Looking down, you realized you were in your old Sniper's uniform. You could've sworn you came here dressed in civilian clothes when you departed, but frustratingly, you couldn't remember for sure.

In the distance, thunder rumbled, the storm was closing in, and you needed to find your way to proper shelter. Feeling a light rain against your face, you picked up the pace, trying to find any signs of life nearby, and to your immense relief, after rounding what felt like the hundredth nondescript dark corner, you spotted a light on, and could just make out the blurry details of Dell's old workshop. Running closer, you smiled, seeing the silhouette of someone inside tinkering away. It just had to be Dell!

As you sped closer and got a better look at the workshop, annoyed slightly by the fogged glass obscuring your vision keeping you from seeing inside, but you were too excited to see him again to care much.

Knocking on the door, you yelled, "Dell, open up!"

Watching a silhouette draw closer to the door, you were confused as he stalled for a moment, "Dell, will you let me in! It's freezing out here!"

The door creaked open, and Dell stood stiffly, without hesitating; you wrapped both arms around him, hugging as close as you could, almost sobbing with happiness after finally finding a familiar face around here.

"It's good to see you again! I missed you so much!"

Awkwardly, he patted your back and returned the hug before pulling away, staring at you with an almost blank look. "Sniper?"

Forcing a smile, you tried to ignore how uneasy he was acting, "C'mon Dell, it's me- we fought together for years. Don't tell me you've forgotten already?"

With an odd look on his face, he nodded, a strange smile spread across his face, "Course I remember ya, that's right- it's me, your ol' buddy Dell. It's been a while since I saw your face- whatcha doin' 'round here?"

He was acting weird, but it had been so long since he'd seen you face to face, and you didn't want to say anything. As he let you inside, you couldn't ignore the mess around the workshop. Dell could get buried in his work more than anyone you knew, but he was never so sloppy before. Beer cans littered tables, cigarettes piled over in ashtrays, and countless grease stains streaked across the tables and walls. You had to force yourself to keep from recoiling at the smell of stale air and debris. Seeing your old comrade out of uniform was odd, even if he still dawned the hard hat and goggles. Did he get taller after the war? You wondered but didn't want to ask out loud.

He noticed your staring, even if you were too meek to say anything definitive. With a hearty laugh, he pulled you into a crushing bear hug, "Good to see ya again, partner. It's been awful quiet 'round these parts lately."

You wanted to pull up a chair and catch up, but you couldn't forget the nightmarish terrain you crossed to get here. Pushing away from the hug, biting your lower lip nervously, you spoke, "Dell, I think something's up. We gotta get out of here."

Dell didn't seem to notice how bleak things were outside his shop. "This ol' place? I've been living under this roof since day one… It ain't been that long since you ditched the war." He gave you a cheeky smile, "Don't tell me you've already forgotten this place."

He was right. Objectively, you were fighting in the war just a few years ago, and there was no reason for you to have already forgotten so much. It didn't make any sense. Too insecure about the bizarre amnesia and brain fog to confess to either, you didn't respond, watching Dell cautiously nodding. Dell sighed, "I'm a might busy now, but I can walk with you for a while; I reckon I can take one night off. Help ya outta here an' all."

Stepping away a bit, you expected Dell to lead you back outside, but to your surprise, he drew further into the workshop, bringing you to the door attaching the shop to the rest of the warehouse. He opened the door, holding it open for you as you paced onward. It didn't make sense to you that this could be the way out, but Dell was your friend, and you trusted him. And it wasn't like you had any better ideas.

The two of you shuffled forward in a slightly awkward silence, you couldn't ignore how different everything looked from how you remembered it. How could everything have fallen into disrepair so fast? Windows were shattered, and walls were fractured by massive cracks, it was like the place had been abandoned for at least a decade. Things were run down, broken, and you tried not to consider the possibility you'd somehow stumbled onto enemy territory. You reasoned it was only a matter of time before you saw something you remembered, and if it were the enemy base, surely you'd have gotten yourself shot by now.

Dell broke the silence, "You came all this way to see me. You still talkin' with the others? Any idea how they're holdin' up?"

He sounded so disinterested; it was hard to imagine someone like him hadn't kept up with the others back home, if there was one person to be "a friend to all", it was Dell."I'm not so sure, actually. It's been getting quieter and quieter on their end… I just- I uh, really wanted to come and see you before you went silent too…"

Dell looked over his shoulder to smile at you, but this was an expression you'd never seen from him before. "Well, aren't you just the sweetest thing." Something was seriously off with him, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

You were so unsettled you didn't know how to respond, keeping your head down and hands mindlessly fumbling with your gun strap, trying to hold onto the hope this would all be over soon.

"To get outta here, we're gonna cross someone who don't take kindly to trespassers. But hold my hand, and I promise I'll getcha through." He extended his un-gloved hand for you to take, a kind gesture, but not one you were too thrilled to accept.

Raising an eyebrow, you responded, "If it's just one guy, I think I can defend myself just fine." As you spoke, you tapped the tip of the rifle strapped to your back with your fingernail.

Dell looked like he was trying to stifle a laugh, "Buddy, don't wanna do that, trust me. Ya ain't gonna win a quick draw against him." Once again, he extended his hand palm-up for you to take, which you reluctantly accepted. To your slight relief, Dell's hands were at least as warm as you remembered. It wasn't much, but you found it comforting.

You were thankful Dell didn't try to rush. Matching your feeble pace and walking close enough beside, you could almost feel his hip pressed against your own. "Is it Spy? Is he still around?"

Dell snickered, "Nope."

You continued walking by his side for a while without saying anything. Listening to the sound of your own footsteps against the creaking floor, trying to ignore the other noises of the house. The rain pattering against the windows, which rattled in the wind. Even creepier, you couldn't ignore the unidentifiable sounds from below the floorboards, sounding almost like someone moaning in pain. You could've sworn you could hear whispers coming from behind the dark corners, but you knew there was no way anyone else was around. Inner reason told you it was just your mind playing tricks on you, but you couldn't help but whip your head toward the voices to catch someone there, but no one ever was.

If Dell could hear the moans of pain or the hushed voices, he didn't say anything. As you walked, he ran his thumb in soft, slow circles against the back of your hand to try and comfort you. He hummed a little under his breath as though trying to minimize the creepiness of the place.

When you were about to ask how much longer until you found a way out, Dell stopped at another door. Remarkably sturdy looking and well-maintained compared to the shabbiness of the rest of the house. Given how heavy and industrial it appeared, it hardly resembled a door, looking more like the entrance to a bank vault. "This is it. He's right in 'ere. Don't let him scare ya. He's all bark and no bite… Sort of."

You were too tense to ask precisely what he meant by that, giving him a single nod in response, pressing your lips together into a hard line, tightening your grip against his hand. Stealing your resolve with a deep breath, you had no idea what lay in wait behind the door, but you were ready to tackle it head-on if it meant getting out. Pulling a tarnished silver key from his top pocket, Dell unlatched the door, stealing a quick glance your way before pushing the heavy door open.

You weren't ready to see what was behind that door, let alone confront him. The sight of another Engineer covered in fresh blood, chunks of carnage clinging to his overalls, and cleaning his tools, which were just as drenched in gore as he was, made you lock up with fear. The smell of carnage and motor oil almost made you wretch, and it took all your strength to keep from covering your eyes or screaming.

Two Engineers at the same base was confusing enough, but seeing one of them drenched in blood off the battlefield made you even more horrified. They both looked so much like Dell, but you knew with a sinking realization neither of these men were the Engie you knew and cared for. The other Engineer looked up at his twin, only then noticing he wasn't alone. "Who the hell is that?"

He shot up from his seat, ready to dart in your direction. Instinctively, you drew your weapon and were prepared to aim at the other Engineer. Your hands shook badly, and you knew you'd miss him if you tried to fire, even at such a close range.

Before you could even raise the crosshairs to your eye, you felt a heavy hand on your shoulder, pulling you protectively closer to his body, effortlessly yanking you from your weak stance, speaking in a louder but not quite aggressive voice. "Hey, easy there- don't do anything stupid now. We're just here to talk."

You weren't sure if he was talking to you or the other Engineer, but thankfully, he stopped where he was, keeping one hand planted on the gun attached to his belt. "Don't do anything stupid? Maynard! What the hell are you doin' bringin' someone up here!?"

Confusion slowly began to dwarf your fear. Keeping a tight hold on your gun, you lowered it a little more, whispering under your breath, glancing at the man beside you out of the corner of your eye, "Maynard?"

Despite the hostile situation, he grinned and winked, "Charmed to make your acquaintance, partner."

The other Engineer was far less amused. "Maynard, answer me! You got a hell of a lotta explainin' to do, brother!" It was too dark to see his face, as though you could even really see him under the hard hat and glasses, but his voice was more than enough to make you go stunned and silent.

All rational was gone. You could only think about getting out of this awful place. You tried to turn on your heel and break from Maynard's grip, but he was even stronger than he looked, keeping you effortlessly pinned in place.

A pair of bulky arms hugged you from behind, wrapping around your belly, pulling you securely against a chest broader than you remembered Dell's being. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you were forced to fully realize how close the stranger was and how far away from safety you were.

Sure, you were scared before, but Dell was your best friend, and you'd follow him anywhere, but this wasn't Dell, and now you were in the clutches of something much more nefarious than you had expected.

Leaning close to whisper in your ear, you heard the stranger speak, "You weren't runnin' away on me now, were you? You wouldn't leave me all alone in here, would ya, darlin'? And here I thought we were getting along so well." His hug from behind tightened noticeably as he hissed that last part into your ear, crushing the air from your lungs. Your eyes widened, watching the other Engineer stalking closer. He looked so much like Dell, but you knew this wasn't him, the similarities making him all the more terrifying. The other Engineer didn't once take his hand from his gun, but at least he wasn't yelling anymore. "The hell are you doing here? Just who the hell-"

Maynard raised one hand to silence the other Engineer, who complied through grit teeth, and you could only imagine the enraged look on his face under his goggles.

"Relax, Zed, this one is harmless-"

Zed fumed, "Don't tell me to relax, you lazy bastard! You bring a surprise visitor this deep into the house with a gun pointed at my head! And you want me to relax!?"

You paled, listening to Zed confirm what you'd feared all along. You weren't being led the way out. You were following blindly even deeper into enemy territory, brought all the way into his den without even trying to fight back. You couldn't even call it your old base anymore. Where you stood now was his turf. Any pathetic, fleeting hope of escaping this bizarre place vanished the instant the words left Zed's mouth. Tears of hopelessness stung your eyes, threatening to spill as you heard Maynard's deep, unsettling laughter rumbling behind you. Too scared to move much on your own, you managed to buck forward suddenly, wriggling free as his arm detached from around you, forcing you to support yourself with shaking knees, holding your rifle to your chest with white knuckles, breathing rapidly.

Maynard took a half-step away and smiled reassuringly before extending a hand your way. In a faux-soothing voice, though with a note of condescension, as though he were speaking to a small child, "You heard the man. Hand it over."

The mere sight of Zed standing close by, staring you down with complete vitriol, made you hesitate. Your situation was hopeless; anyone could see that trying to hold onto your gun would likely give you more trouble than anything else, but still, you were too scared out of your mind to think clearly.

Seconds passed like hours as Maynard stared at you with that creepy smile, "Don'tcha want this all over with? Just hand me the gun, buddy. That's all ya gotta do." You looked back between Zed and Maynard like a hunted animal.

"C'mon now, Don't make me take it from you," Maynard warned, sounding a little too excited to enforce his own threat. Swallowing the lump in your throat, with unsteady hands, you complied, turning over your only means of defense to the stranger. Your sniper rifle was more than a gun. It was an extension of yourself, and handing it away felt like a severe betrayal.

Without a second thought, the Texan smiled, accepting your weapon into his own hands, holding the thing carefully in his hands, and seeming to admire the firearm before smashing it into the cement wall beside him. The sound of metal against cement rang out like a gunshot, making you yelp, watching your precious gun get smashed to pieces.

Maynard took a few more good swings against the wall before dropping the battered rifle to the ground, giving it a steel-toed stomp for good measure, beaming at the sound of metal breaking apart and shattering beneath his foot.

Maynard looked at Zed with an almost chipper smile, "See, gun's gone now. I told ya that one's harness, didn't I?" Unable to look away, you stared down at your poor gun, not even flinching as Maynard slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you back into his chest.

Zed appeared unphased by the brutal display, nodding at the sight of the broken weapon, at last moving his hand from his holster, crossing his arms over his chest. "I see. But I wanna know why you brought a hostage all the way up here. I know we got more than enough room in the bunkers-"

Maynard interrupted, squeezing you a little tighter, "Not a hostage. A guest, this one's an old friend of Dell's." Turning his head to face you, uncomfortably close, Maynard asked, "Dell ever mentioned he had brothers to ya before?"

You winced hearing his name. You didn't want to upset your captors more than they were, but you honestly had no idea what was happening, so you shook your head.

Maynard sighed, "Looks like our baby brother didn't spend much time missin' the folks back home. Typical youngest sibling', he thinks just cuz he's the golden child, he can leave the rest of us behind."

You were almost too scared to ask; you just had to know. "Dell is still alive… Isn't he?"

Maynard frowned, "Well, he ain't come our way in a long time. But I know he's out there. He'll be back soon… An' I know you'll be good an' help welcome him home, won'tcha?" While he spoke, his fingers began to drum over your shoulder, playing with the fabric of your shirt between his fingertips. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Zed watching you like a hawk, not moving from his position several paces away, likely still ready to blow your head off at a moment's notice.

Trying your hardest not to let him see how his touch made you shudder, you mumbled, "How long? How much longer till he's back?"

Maynard sighed, shrugging, "Well, tough to say for sure. We've been waitin' on a visit for ages now, but ya never know with him."

Your face fell, and your head dropped forward, not wanting to give Maynard the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Ruffling the top of your head with his gloved hand, he muttered, "Hey now, don't cry, it won't be so bad. We'll keep you nice and safe. I always did like a little company around here."

Maynard looked past you to talk to Zed, "Just give us a few. I'll get 'em settled in and be back to work."

Zed huffed but didn't say anything to stop his brother, allowing him to walk past where he stood to the hallways connecting personal quarters to the den. As he passed the threshold out of the den, Maynard laughed a little to himself, "Yeah, sorry 'bout him. He's always a lil' cranky 'round strangers."

If that was Zed being cranky, you didn't want to know what he looked like when he was really pissed. It wasn't long until Maynard stopped at another doorway at the end of the hall, which creaked harshly when pushed open.

So this was where he was leading you all along, his bedroom. Somewhere so deep in the heart of the house, you didn't have a prayer of finding your own way out. You let Maynard lead you to his bed. He sat you down on the blanket, drinking in the scared look on your face with great satisfaction.

"I gotta take care of a few more things, but I want ya to stay here; keep the bed nice and warm for me. I'll be back before ya know it."

You didn't say anything, too disgusted to even look him in the eye, but you could hear him chuckling at your adorable stubbornness, "What's the matter, partner? Got nothing to say?"

Still refusing to look at him, you mumbled. "You were never going to take me home. You lied to me."

Using his human hand, Maynard brushed the side of your cheek with the pad of his thumb, curling his other hand beneath your chin to tilt your head up to look at him.

"I promised to get you outta the workshop. I never promised to take ya home. But hey, it's gonna be ok, darlin', Don'tcha see? You are home now."

Biting your lower lip to keep from sobbing, you could feel your face trembling to keep the tears in, "This can't be real. This has gotta be a dream…"

Maynard leaned down to kiss your head, muttering, "Ya really think this is all some dream, huh? That's cute. Go on and hold onto that hope while ya can. Ya ain't gonna have much hope left after I've had my way with ya."

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goldenraeofsun · 2 years

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Day 28: Animal

Castiel whines pitifully, but the shelter attendants are either heartless bastards or too damn used to the sounds of sad animals because none of them even turn around to his cage. In the pound, it smells overwhelmingly of dog piss and fear. Castiel’s nose itches, and his hackles have stood on end since he got thrown in here.

He paces in the small confines of his cell, his brain whirring. The full moon is waning, already well past his zenith, hence the human thoughts pushing past the wolfish instincts.

In under an hour he’s going to change back and answer a lot of hard questions, since animal control doesn’t usually pick up naked, 20-something baristas slash grad-students.

Snout wrinkling, Castiel sits back on his haunches, and this time his worried whine is entirely involuntary.

He should have gone to the country with the rest of his pack, but he’d been desperate.

Dean had invited him over for an extended stay as a trial run before they officially move in together, and, Castiel, at loath to give Dean any reason to doubt them, had to say yes. Not after the fiasco of the last full moon, where Dean found out his little furry secret, thanks to Castiel landing himself in the very same situation he is in now.

Gabriel had laughed himself silly at the sight of Castiel stuck in the cage, but he did the big brother thing and bailed him out before Castiel had to release the transformation.

But not before the vets inserted the microchip. “A reminder, bro,” Gabriel said, “not to get your ass caught again.”

Gabriel’s run afoul of animal control more times than Castiel can count on all four paws. But, unlike Castiel, he delighted in baiting the dog catchers, almost getting caught before leaping out of their grasp at the very last second.

Castiel isn’t sure if Gabriel has ever gotten taken, but his older brother is crafty enough to find a way out, that’s for sure.

Castiel squints at the lock – his wolf eyes are far more farsighted than his human ones – as he tries to figure out how to manipulate it without opposable thumbs. But he can only fit a claw or two through the chain link fence penning him in.

The door opens, and the other dogs bark and yowl. Castiel instinctively flattens his ears against the noise.

The shelter attendant opens the cage opposite Castiel and deposits a very drugged-up yorkiepoo. After he leaves, Castiel he hurls himself bodily at the latch.

It doesn’t even budge.

Silently swearing to himself, Castiel tries again. The metal groans but holds firm.

Castiel retreats to the back of his cage, his eyes closing into slits as he thinks over his options. None of them are good.

He’s just gearing up for another try at the metal cage, when the door creaks open with a familiar, whispered hiss of, “Cas!”

Castiel freezes.

Sure enough, Dean comes into view, his green eyes narrowed in concern as he frantically scans the cages for his wayward boyfriend.

Castiel howls, and Dean makes a bee-line for him. “Jesus,” he whispers, “Shut up, you dumbass. D’you want both of us to get caught?”

Castiel shuts up.

Dean unlatches the cage with a frustratingly easy flip of his human fingers, and Castiel nearly tackles him in a burst of newfound freedom. “Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbles, gingerly patting the top of Castiel’s head, “I’m happy to see you too, buddy. Come on, we gotta move. Luckily, they’re understaffed at this hour.”

They sneak past the skeleton crew, and Castiel practically sprints to the Impala parked across the street.

“I suppose you’re not really a dog,” Dean says, frowning, as he opens the door for Castiel, “so don’t get any funny ideas about real dogs being allowed in my baby.”

Castiel wiggles over the seatrest into the back seat.

“Hey, watch it!” Dean yelps. “You’re blocking the rearview, Bad Moon Rising!”

Castiel settles down, panting, before he finally lets the transformation fall. An excruciatingly painful minute later, he finally comes back to himself, all his limbs tingling with pins and needles, shivering from the loss of his fur coat.

He meets Dean’s horrified gaze in the rearview mirror. “Christ,” Dean mutters under his breath as he wrestles out of his leather jacket. He hurls it into the backseat, and Castiel shrugs into it gratefully.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel rasps, and, god, he sounds awful.

Dean bobs a quick nod. “Anytime, man.”

Castiel scoots forward and braces his arms over the front seat’s seat rest. “How did you know?”

“I got an email,” Dean says curtly.

Castiel blinks. “Excuse me?”

At the next red light, Dean roots around in his pockets for his phone, unlocks it, and hands it to Castiel.

Sure enough, there’s a new email, an automatic one based on the generic language, that a pet registered under Dean’s name has been turned into the Lawrence Canine Shelter.

“Your brother has a strange sense of humor,” Dean says in an odd voice, “since he put my email down as your owner for microchip updates.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Castiel vows just as Dean finally loses it, filling the Impala with the sound of his raucous laughter.

#suptober22 #destiel fanfic #destiel #fanfic #established relationship #werewolf castiel #creature fic #rae writes fic #creature castiel

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the-ragingenby · 7 months

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AO3 Crosspost:

As much as it behooves me to do these prompts out of order, the thing I got planned for the second one is like an extra epilogue thingy for the fic I gotta finish. So. It’ll come out when it comes out.

Anyway. Here it is. 20 minutes late.

Don’t ask why, just enjoy.

@flufftober

Prompt: “Wait, you love me?” - “I always have.”

~3350 words

“Wait, you love me?” - “We always have, you dork.”

“Did you hear that Mic and Eraser are together now?” Thirteen announced from their desk in the teacher’s lounge. Midnight rolled her eyes.

“That’s old news. Anyone with a working pair of eyes knows that by now.” Midnight snickered. “Though, it was kinda funny watching Ms. Joke flirting with Aizawa.”

“Well, I felt rather sorry for him, the poor guy.” Toshinori murmured, mostly to himself. He’d known about Hizashi and Aizawa for ages, which still surprised him a little. He didn’t think they trusted him much, especially with something as personal as their relationship status, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

“You are just too sweet, Toshinori!” Midnight gushed. Toshinori felt his mouth twitch, but he kept his polite smile. He wasn’t sure if she was just joking around…or maybe it’s at his own expense. “You’re a much better person than me. I’ll be making fun of him for ages.”

That’s not necessarily true. Toshinori sighed softly. I’m not that great of a person at all.

“I wish you people would find something better to do than just gossip all the time.” Eraser grumbled as he stalked into the teacher’s lounge, fixing them with his usual glower. His glare eased slightly though, as he caught sight of Toshinori. “Oh, good morning, Toshinori.” There was the faintest ghost of a smile on Aizawa’s face before he turned away to get what he really came in here for: another cup of coffee.

“Toshinori,” Midnight whined, draping herself over his shoulder. “How’d you do it? You got him to smile. He won’t even acknowledge the rest of us, that jerk.” She directed her words mostly towards Aizawa, who was pointedly ignoring her now.

Toshinori shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure.” He really wasn’t. He, Aizawa, and Hizashi had started hanging out together after school when they realized they lived in the same apartment complex.

At first, it was just out of politeness, but once Hizashi started crashing his place to insist that Toshinori makes the best bento boxes and Aizawa tagged along, he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake them.

Which has now resulted in the predicament he’s currently in. He may have, perhaps, developed a little crush on the both of them. Just a small one that’s totally not eating up his remaining brain cells. Of course I couldn’t settle for just one, but I just had to want both of them. Maybe I’ve lost it. “It’s because he’s just a big sweetheart. I mean, look at him!” Present Mic piped up, materializing in the doorway and skipping over to Toshinori.

He nudged Midnight away, taking her place draping over Toshinori’s shoulder. “Booo. That’s such a basic answer. Everyone knows that.” Midnight huffed, twirling her whip in her hands. Present Mic stuck out his tongue at her.

“So childish, the both of you.” Eraser chuckled, heading over to plant a gentle kiss on Mic’s cheek before escaping from the lounge.

“Awww. Gross.” Midnight pretended to gag, laughing as Mic fixed her with a halfhearted glare from behind his shades.

“See you later, Toshinori?” Mic asked, pressing his cheek to Toshinori’s own. Toshinori felt himself grow warm with embarrassment.

“Uh, y-yeah. Sure.” Mic smiled and tapped Toshinori’s nose with a finger playfully, before darting off to pester Eraser.

Toshinori pressed a hand to his mouth to contain the little scream that threatened to escape. Sometimes, he wished he could be part of what they had. The little affections the pair gave each other throughout the day, Toshinori could admit he was just a little jealous. But that isn’t right. You have to be happy for your friends. Even if it hurts.

“You okay?” Midnight interrupted his thoughts, her head tipped gently with concern. Toshinori tugged his hand away, pulling on his usual smile.

“Yeah. Never better.”

“–and that’s how far I’ve gotten with my training for One For All. I’ve gotten a little better at using Air Force, but I’ll need a little more practice with the gloves. Oh, and I’ve been able to keep One For All consistently at thirty-percent! I think that’s a pretty good accomplishment and…All Might, are you listening?” Izuku blinked, wide-eyed, at Toshinori, who was jolted from his thoughts.

“Oh! Um, of course, young Midoriya. I was just thinking about…something.” Toshinori tried to smile, but it faltered as Izuku stared at him. His eyes were bright, searching and trying to figure out how to help. How to save him.

Toshinori felt a newfound fondness for his successor wash over him. Young Midoriya is really doing his best. This time, though, there isn’t anything he can do. I’d better not worry him. Toshinori smiled brightly, reaching out to pat Izuku’s head. “Not to worry, young Midoriya! It’s nothing All Might can’t handle!”

Izuku smiled. He believed him. Of course he did. Now if only I could believe me.

After listening to the rest of Izuku’s updates, Toshinori let him go, encouraging him to enjoy his lunch with his friends. “Are you sure? I can stay, if you’d like.” Izuku murmured. Toshinori could only laugh.

“Go on, young Midoriya. Enjoy yourself.” Toshinori insisted. With a bright smile, Izuku nodded and left the room, leaving Toshinori alone with his thoughts.

“Geez.” He whispered, rubbing a hand over his face. “I really need to pull myself together.”

“Toshi! This is where you’re always hiding, huh?” Toshinori froze, slowly turning to see Hizashi and Aizawa peeking in through the doorway.

“Ah, um, well…” Toshinori looked away, a little embarrassed. He wasn’t sure why, but even the pair just being near him made him feel all fluttery.

“Don’t mind him. Think he’s had a bit too much coffee today.” Aizawa sighed, sitting a respectful distance from Toshinori on the couch. Hizashi quickly took the spot of his other side, leaning gently against Toshinori as he began nibbling at his lunch.

“Sorry.” Toshinori felt the need to apologize. I don’t want them to feel like I’ve been avoiding them or anything. Even if I kinda am. “I just wanted to give you guys your lunch time together, at least.”

Hizashi snickered, shoveling a ball of rice into his mouth before thoughtfully pressing his chopsticks to his lips. “We get plenty of time together. But we wanna spend time with you too.”

“If you don’t mind.” Aizawa quickly tacked on, eyeing Hizashi reproachfully. Hizashi stuck out his tongue in response. Toshinori blinked, a little surprised at the sentiment, but managed a mild smile.

“I appreciate it.” He murmured, leaning back on the couch a little, with Hizashi moving with him, only shifting a little to get more comfortable.

“Have you eaten yet?” Hizashi asked once he’d finished most of his lunch. Toshinori hesitated for a brief moment before replying. I mean, I didn’t but I’ll do it later. I don’t want to worry them.

“Uh, yeah.” Apparently his hesitation gave him away, because now they were both eyeing him suspiciously. I forgot how hard it is to lie to them. Without a word, Aizawa took one of his lunch containers, which happened to be empty, and portioned out some rice and sausage from his own lunch.

Hizashi dragged the newly filled container over and slid on a few assorted vegetables and sacrificed one of his sushi rolls. “Toshi, you need to take care of yourself properly.” Hizashi chastised playfully, booping Toshinori’s nose with his chopsticks.

Aizawa pulled out a disposable set of chopsticks and placed them beside Toshinori’s newly obtained container of food. “Here. Eat up, okay?” He encouraged gently, glaring fiercely when Hizashi was about to subject the poor guy to another prod, seemingly freezing him in his tracks. “And, if you want, we’ll take you out to eat later. My treat.”

Toshinori didn’t know what to say. He was already having a hard time holding back his tears. Why are they just so damn perfect? “U-um, no, t-that’s alright. You two have done so much for me already.” Toshinori opened the chopsticks and took a mouthful before he could make more of a fool of himself. I’m an idiot. But I don’t want to interrupt their date either. Hah, why is this so hard?

“Toshi, you’ve gotta say yes.” Hizashi whined, putting down his now empty container to cuddle himself more snugly into Toshinori’s uninjured side. “Shota’s been mean and has been depriving me of sweets. You’ve gotta come and bully him into getting me something. He’ll do anything for you.”

“Hizashi, behave.” Aizawa grumbled, though he did not refute anything his partner was saying, Toshinori realized after a moment. He closed his eyes to take a moment to collect himself, and stop himself from spontaneously combusting. When Toshinori reopened them, Aizawa met his gaze with a soft fondness, before his eyes quickly darted away to look elsewhere. I want to but I can’t. They’re together, plain and simple. I don’t want to get in the way of that.

Toshinori plastered on his best smile. “I don’t want to intrude on your, uh, outing? Date, maybe?” He looked away, not wanting to see whatever expression was on their faces. “But thank you for the meal. It…means a lot.” He added more quietly.

That evening, Toshinori was dragged out of his apartment by Aizawa and Hizashi to go out for dinner anyway. He could find nothing to complain about, which in turn made it even harder for him to keep his feelings bottled up, pushed into the bottom of his being to make sure it would never see the light of day.

It had been about two weeks since that dinner outing, and if anything, the couple seemed to be growing even closer to Toshinori. Not that he was complaining in the slightest, but now he was acutely aware of every one of Hizashi’s teasing touches or Aizawa’s reassuring pats. It was a little overwhelming to say the least.

“Oh, Toshi!” Hizashi called, lounging on Toshinori’s couch as he walked into the room. “There you are! I’ve been missing you.” Toshinori rolled his eyes.

“I saw you less than an hour ago.” Toshinori chuckled, settling into the small space Hizashi had left for him on the couch. He immediately shifted to rest his head in Toshinori’s lap, humming contentedly.

“Still wayyy too long.” Hizashi huffed, huddling closer. Toshinori couldn’t help but reach his hand down, carefully running it down Hizashi’s back, sort of like petting a cat or a small dog, now that he thought about it. “Your hand feels nice.” Hizashi murmured, a little sleepily, after a few minutes.

“Uh, I’m glad?” Toshinori hesitated, unsure of whether he should take his hand away or–

“Nooooo.” Hizashi whined, arching his back a little into the touch. “Don’t stop, you meanie.” Toshinori swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a brief moment to gather himself. Calm down. This doesn’t mean anything. Just think of him as an oversized, yellow haired, sunglasses-bearing cat.

Shakily, Toshinori continued his massage, if you could call it that. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the bell soon rang, signaling the start of classes. Toshinori nervously cleared his throat. “Um, I guess you’ve got to go now.” He said, gently shaking Hizashi to wake him up fully.

“Mmm. I knowww.” Hizashi stifled a yawn, sitting up just a little. “I’ll see you later, Toshiiii.” Before Toshinori could react, Hizashi planted a soft, chaste kiss on his cheek. Toshinori sat, stunned, as Hizashi got up properly and managed a drowsy wave before slipping from the room.

“W-what??!”

That evening, Toshinori left the school grounds without bothering to say goodbye to anyone. He headed straight home. What am I going to do? Is Hizashi…cheating on Aizawa? With me?? I’m so confused. But I also don’t want to talk to him, because I know I’m going to do something stupid and just make things worse. But then again, he was super sleepy so maybe he didn’t know what he was doing? Maybe it doesn’t mean anything? But what if it does?

Toshinori fiddled with his keys for a brief moment before pushing them into the lock and stepping into his apartment. I just don’t know what to do. When do I ever know what to do? With a heavy sigh, he collapsed onto his couch in the living room. On the bright side, it’s the weekend. So all I need to do is just avoid them until school starts again. That sounds easy enough.

It was not, in fact, easy enough.

Toshinori opened his door the next afternoon to find, lo and behold, Aizawa standing outside. “Toshi…hey.” Aizawa blinked at him, his tired eyes alight with worry and concern. “Hizashi and I were wondering if you’d like to come over to our place for dinner. We’d like to talk, if that’s alright.”

Toshinori froze. Shit. I knew this was gonna happen. Maybe I should’ve gone on an impromptu trip to Europe or something. “Um…”

“And before you say anything, I want you to know that we aren’t mad at you or anything and both Hizashi and I have things we’d like to admit to you.” Aizawa continued before Toshinori could outright refuse. “...Please. We, I, really want you there.”

Toshinori let out a soft sigh. These guys really make it hard to say no to them. “Alright.” He relented. Though maybe it was all worth it to see that brilliant smile Aizawa had, even if just for a brief moment.

“Come by in a few, okay?” With that, Aizawa bowed a little before leaving. Toshinori closed the door with a soft click, running his hands over his face. I’m in too deep now. I’ll probably be losing some of my closest friends, but that’s okay. I want them to be happy, even if that means I can’t be around to see it.

Toshinori fixed himself up the best he could and made his way over to Aizawa and Hizashi’s apartment, which was only just down the hall. Shakily, he managed to knock once before the door swung open, revealing a Hizashi with his hair down, resting at his shoulders. A black and white cat sat at his feet. “Toshi! Hi.” He greeted warmly, though his smile looked a little tense. “Uh, thanks for coming. This is Cat.” Hizashi gestured to the ball of fur that turned and made its way farther into the apartment.

“Your cat is named Cat?” Toshinori asked, his apprehension momentarily forgotten. Hizashi laughed.

“Yeah. Well, it was all Aizawa really. He’s like super bad with names. I tried changing it, but Aizawa said he’s got custody or something. It’s grown on me a little though.” Hizashi stepped out from the door frame, motioning for Toshinori to enter. “Please, come on in.”

Toshinori carefully made his way through the couple’s apartment, eventually coming to a dining table that Hizashi encouraged him to sit at, before taking a seat next to him. Toshinori couldn’t bring himself to talk about anything else, instead waiting with bated breath for Aizawa to appear.

Hardly a minute had passed when Aizawa came into the room, setting bowls of rice in front of each person, including the chair he had claimed on Toshinori’s other side. On top of each were neatly sliced pork cutlets. “Hope pork cutlets are okay.” Aizawa murmured. “I can’t make them as well as you can, but they’re edible. So.”

“You’re an excellent cook, Aizawa. No need to sell yourself short.” Toshinori insisted, opening up a new pair of disposable chopsticks and taking a small bite. As I thought. It’s very good.

They ate in silence for a while, with Hizashi finishing the food first, as per usual. Once the dishes had been cleared, Toshinori began to excuse himself, half hoping to escape without having to really talk. “Hang on, Toshi. We…gotta talk now. If you’ll let us.” Hizashi said, strangely serious. Toshinori hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Whatever will be, will be.

“‘Zashi told me about what happened in the “secret” teacher’s lounge, where we normally have lunch together.” Aizawa began, meeting Toshinori’s eyes. “Although I didn’t mind, I’ve told him a million times not to be so forward. That he needs to work up to things like that.”

“But that’s not how I roll.” Hizashi snickered, clamping his mouth shut when Aizawa fixed him with his usual glare.

Carefully, Aizawa took one of Toshinori’s hands, holding it gently. “Although we’re in a committed relationship, and have been for ages, we also have quite a soft spot for you. We’re, uh, enamored, to put it in other words.”

“What he’s trying to say is,” Hizashi continued, taking Toshinori’s other hand. “Is that we like you a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. And we wanna date you.” Toshinori’s mouth hung open in shock. I must be hearing things. Maybe I’m going mad.

“Sorry?”

“We wanna date youuu, Toshi.” Hizashi dragged out the words, pressing his lips gently to Toshinori’s hand.

“I…but why?” Toshinori finally found his voice.

“You are…extraordinarily kind. Working one on one with students, encouraging them to push themselves, while always taking time to hear about their problems. And you’re one of the most caring, empathetic people I’ve had the pleasure of working with in a long time.” Aizawa let out a breathy laugh, squeezing Toshinori’s hand just a little tighter. “Is it any wonder why we like you so much?”

Toshinori couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what anyone would do. I’m not special.”

“For being such a great teacher, you sure can be dense sometimes.” Hizashi sighed. “We don’t want anyone else. We want you.”

“Please.” Aizawa added softly, pressing forehead to Toshinori’s hand.

Toshinori doesn’t know what to make of it. Maybe they’re just messing with me. It just doesn’t make sense otherwise. “I don’t really think you guys would want someone who looks like he’s aged 30 years in the span of a few months.”

To his surprise, Hizashi started laughing, shoulders trembling with the effort to stifle his snickers. Aizawa fixed him with an even sharper glare before returning his attention to Toshinori. “We are truly serious about you, you know.” He whispered. “We don’t care about your looks or anything like that. We care about you.”

Toshinori opened his mouth to give them something, anything, to just refuse him and let him wallow in self-pity. Stop getting your hopes up. “Hey, no more self-deprecating talk, yeah? Otherwise, we’ll have to shut you up ourselves.”

“And how do you intend to do that–" Toshinori was cut off when Aizawa, shockingly enough, moved forward to press a soft kiss to Toshinori’s lips. Without even thinking about it, Toshinori leaned into it, following Aizawa’s lead before he pulled away.

“Sorry.” He breathed, still just a few inches away from Toshinori’s face. “I just couldn’t restrain myself anymore.”

“And you’re always telling me to behave myself.” Hizashi muttered, huffing. “I wanted to kiss him too!”

“You already got to, so it was my turn.” Aizawa shot back, before hesitating for a moment. “I’m really sorry. Was that too much? I probably should’ve asked first.”

“See? You’re just as down bad as me.” Hizashi teased. Aizawa pointedly ignored him.

Toshinori blinked, still a little stunned. “No, no. Um…that was perfect. You were perfect.”

“So does that mean you’ll date us?” Hizashi flashed his best puppy-dog eyes at Toshinori. “We promise to treat you super duper well, and spoil the shit outta you. You deserve it.” Maybe, for once, he can be selfish. Just once.

“Alright.” Toshinori breathed, and was then immediately engulfed in a tight, but careful, hug on both sides.

“Love you.” Aizawa murmured against Toshinori’s shoulder.

“Love y’all more.” Hizashi shot back.

“Wait, you love me?” Toshinori was a little stunned. Love is certainly a step up from like.

“We always have, you dork.” Hizashi was quick to reply, with Aizawa voicing his soft agreement.

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mountswhore · 3 years

Text

𝐝𝐨𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 — jesse lingard

summary: jesse was afraid to lose you, but you have to reassure him that his money and fame mean nothing to you.

notes: requests are open, ask away!

for @bite-me-en-la-boca

Jesse was afraid to lose you, as simple as that. He wasn’t blind to the double takes people do when you walk past them, or the comments from men at the club when they pass. You were stunning — and Jesse knew that, along with everyone else.

Even his own friends would make little comments, obviously they knew they wouldn’t act on it, so did he, but his girlfriend was wanted by even his closest mates. It definitely made him hold onto you a little tighter. Whenever you’d visit him at training, or go to an event with him, he’d keep you close and constantly shower you in affection, so everybody knew you were his.

The Instagram comments were the worst, not only would his be littered with ‘she’s fit’ or ‘lucky man’, but yours were so vivid that you’d refuse to open them. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t scroll through them every once in a while to see what people were saying, only to return to you a while later with a heavy heart.

The whole of the UK male population were after you, which is why tonight was the worst for Jesse. You were celebrating Marcus’ birthday, and it was completely unlike him to want to go clubbing, but you both agreed anyway.

Jesse watched with a sick feeling in his stomach, almost feeling the need to grab his phone and text his best friend that he was too sick to go. And keep you at home. He knew what tonight would be like, he knew that someone would make a comment, or give you a suggestive glance, and it would ruin his night.

“How do I look?” You asked, smiling innocently up at your boyfriend. Even with heels on, he towered over you. Jesse pushed his negative thoughts to the side to compliment you.

“Wow. Where’s Y/N gone?” He asked, holding your hand and twirling you around slowly. You met his eyes once again with a pout, and Jesse kissed it away. There was never a day he didn’t compliment you on your beauty.

“Real funny. Are you ready?”

“Do I look ready?” Jesse countered, standing back from you and showing off his smart casual attire. You laughed and smoothed the fabric of his shirt down, smiling up at him. He looked back down at you with so much love in his eyes, you’d forget he was hiding his intrusive thoughts behind those eyes.

The pair of you left, getting an Uber to the club you were supposed to arrive at 20 minutes ago. Marcus was waiting inside, sitting in a booth with a few other United boys. The second Marcus spotted you, he moved out of the booth to greet you both.

“Jess,” Marcus spoke, pulling his best friend into a hug, “how’ve you been?”

Jesse just nodded, watching his attention divert from him to you. He squeezed you tightly and almost lifted you from your feet. He knew Marcus would never betray him like that, no matter how hot you were. He trusted Marcus entirely, but it was just adding fuel to the fire. Jesse felt tense from the moment he entered the club, the boys greeting you and having a laugh with you. It was off-putting, he just wanted to go home and watch your rubbish tv. He’d sit through hours of it if it meant you weren’t here getting preyed on.

Throughout the night, you’d had shot after shot, begging Jesse to dance with you an hour in. And he was keeping you close to him, eyes watching intently as you swayed your hips onto him. Your eyes were on him the entire time, not paying mind to the people around you. Jesse so badly wanted to enjoy this moment with you, but those eyes surrounding you were slowly pushing him over the edge.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” He snapped, causing a small space to form between the pair of you. You stepped back in shock, staring at your boyfriend who angrily stared at the people surrounding you.

His eyes had found yours again, but you were gone. You’d approached the booth Marcus was sitting at, wedging between him and Jadon, a frown on your face.

“What happened, Y/N?” Marcus questioned, an arm around your shoulder as you looked visibly upset. You saw Jesse sat at the bar now, head in his hands with a drink in front of him.

“He just shouted in front of everyone, it’s so embarrassing.” You stated, folding your arms and stealing a drink from the table. You didn’t know who the victim of the stolen drink was, quite frankly, you didn’t care. Jesse had bursted his anger in front of everyone, and even though it wasn’t directed at you, it still embarrassed you.

The next half hour was torture, you were slowly losing your buzz and the night was becoming boring. You were sandwiched between the two boys, and they refused to let you have any more drinks. Jesse was still sulking at the bar, but you didn’t care. You’d let him sulk there for the remainder of the evening, if need be.

“Guys, I think I might head home,” you mentioned, standing up and wiggling over the line of boys, “I’m super tired now.” You waved sweetly at Marcus, wishing him one more ‘happy birthday’ before you were leaning against the wall and waiting for your Uber.

Jesse looked back at the booth, wondering which boy had an arm around you this time, but you were gone. The space between Marcus and Jadon that you occupied had now disappeared. His eyes frantically searched the dance floor, but you were nowhere to be seen. It was only then that he started to regret shouting. He could lie and say he didn’t know what came over him, but he did know. He was jealous.

“She’s gone home.” Marcus spoke into his friend’s ear, patting him on the shoulder. It eased Jesse’s thoughts a little, but he still felt horrible. Jesse had gotten an Uber home not long after you, finding the house completely dark apart from your shared bedroom.

You were tucked into bed, Netflix in the background as you scrolled through your phone. You could see Jesse standing in the doorway, but didn’t acknowledge him as he walked in and sat on your side of the bed. His hand rested on the lump in the duvet that was your leg, waiting for you to say something. But you didn’t.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out, his voice soft with guilt. You didn’t even react, you just kept scrolling. “Really, I am. I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

“It’s done now, you need to go to bed. You have Hope tomorrow.” You replied, a lack of emotion in your voice. He knew you loved when Hope was round, the pair of you got on immensely. But you seemed bored now. Bored of listening to him. You had gotten out of bed and left the room, wandering downstairs to distract yourself with something else.

“It’s not done, babe.” Jesse spoke, following your footsteps as you turned into the kitchen. You stood at the counter, grabbing a coffee pod from your cupboard and beginning to make yourself a coffee.

“What else do you want to say, Jesse?” You argued calmly, Jesse almost jumping at the mention of his name. It was always silly pet names, never his name. He could see by the look on your face that you were over this, you were tired, grumpy, getting slightly hungover.

“I know I should never have shouted like that, in front of everyone,” he spluttered, alcohol still in his system. His words were not stringing together very well, which presented a bad case on his behalf, “the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you because of my own insecurities.”

Jesse wasn’t the type to show his insecurities to anyone, not even you at times, but you knew they were there. He was stuck in the mindset of sweeping them away, out of sight and out of mind. You wanted to badly to help him work through them like he did with yours, but he’d never disclose what was bothering him. You turned to look at him, the argument long forgotten now as you wanted this to be the chance he finally opens up.

“What insecurities, Jess?” You wondered, slowly approaching him. Your small hands held his cheeks, you could’ve sworn you’d seen a glint in his eyes.

He shook his head, the window now closed. The opportunity for the pair of you to sit down and talk about what bothered him, it was gone. You were back to pretending not to see his tensed jaw and white knuckles from squeezing his fist together. You sat at the island in defeat, your headache prominent now.

Jesse’s hand fell upon your shoulder, your eyes meeting once again. Your face contorted as a tear fell from your eye, Jesse now going into full on panic mode. He sat beside you, pulling you into his chest and holding you close. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest, you weren’t the only one who wished he could say how he felt.

“How are we ever going to move forward together if I don’t know how you’re feeling?” You asked honestly, holding his bare arm and pulling it close to you. There would always be this barricade stopping you from moving forward, his insecurities stopping you both from being able to talk to each other.

Jesse pulled away from you, his fingers fiddling with the expensive ring on your finger. He’d gifted it to you on your two-year anniversary, it was a beautiful night. “I just get jealous. I see your Instagram comments, and mine. I see the way random men look at you on the street, in the club, in the fucking supermarket. Even the boys are always complimenting you, being touchy with you. It might sound stupid and it might seem like it’s nothing, but it makes me fucking jealous.”

“You know I’d never do that to you,” you turned to Jesse, now clutching his hand tightly, “you’re the only one I want.”

“I know that, love. I have been fucked around before, girls always go after my money and my name. You don’t even shoo these boys away. It’s like you enjoy their attention.” Jesse accused, his tone still soft with you. He never raises his voice with you, and you never have with him.

This comment hurt you, your waterline burned with tears once again, hearing your boyfriend even fathom these ideas. “I don’t pay these boys any mind. You’re the only one I want attention from, I barely give the rest of them a second glance. And I’m sorry that your friends are touchy with me, I just give them lots of hugs and squeezes because they’re your friends, I want them to like me. I know how important they are to you. So they’re important to me.”

Even though Jesse thought you liked the attention, and wanted him for his name and wealth, even though it deeply pained you for him to think these things of you, you kept it cool. He was hurting, these were his insecurities. You looked up at him, giving him your infamous doe eyes, the ones he fell for in the first place.

“If I only wanted you for your wealth and name, I wouldn’t bother with Hope. I love that girl, she’s my best friend. I’d do anything for her,” Jesse smiled at your comment, his hand smoothing over your cheek, “I wouldn’t bother with your family, I wouldn’t call them up everyday asking how they are. I wouldn’t bother with your career, making sure your training kit is washed and you have appropriate lunch.” You emphasised the word appropriate, as Jesse would sometimes leave with just one of Hope’s lunchables, or just a yoghurt.

Jesse let out a laugh, both hands now holding your face close to his. “Thank you. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“I won’t take your name when we get married, just to prove that I’m not in it for fame and wealth,” you admitted, a smile on your face, “I don’t know how you do it if I’m honest, you can’t even walk around the shop without someone approaching you. It’d get on my nerves.”

“Of course you’re gonna take my name,” Jesse cooed, kissing the bridge of your nose and looking down at you once more, “and you better get used to it, because I’m not giving you up.” He held you tight to him, the both of you still reeking of alcohol and the coffee long forgotten.

#jesse lingard drabble #jesse lingard #jesse lingard one shot #jesse lingard blurb #jesse lingard imagine #jesse lingard smut #jlingz

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quillsareswords · 3 years

Text

1:20

Damian Wayne x reader

SUMMARY: You're lucky you've memorized Robin's schedule: it might me the only saving grace you've got left.

WARNINGS: blood, near-death

Master List in bio

It's 1:20 on a Tuesday morning in early June.

Gotham never really gets hot, but the humidity suffocates anything that might think that's a relief. You didn't check the weather this evening. You probably should have.

It's 1:20 on a Tuesday morning. He's gonna be here. You've had mixed feelings about knowing his schedule this well in the past, but now it's the deciding factor of your fate.

It's 1:20. That means you've been bleeding like a stuck pig for ten straight minutes, even if it feels like it's been hours. Or seconds. You don't really know anymore. You're getting dizzy.

So you've leaned against the wall. Some little roof access point that stands tall above the gravel covering the rooftop. The brick digs into your shoulder, even through your jacket.

You're starting to think you've gotten it wrong. Or maybe he just didn't show today. Maybe you're out of luck this time.

It was dumb. Stupid to think that you could stop this. Stupid to think you would end any way other than alone.

It was on purpose, after all. Isolation, that is. You pushed and shoved everyone away with a friendly smile and kept them at arm's length, lest they wiggle their claws beneath your mask and expose you for every ugly thing you are.

You're a mole. An informant. Someone who plays every side all at once and somehow manages to stay neutral the whole time. You've been passing tips to the Bats for months now, means be damned. Trust was meager between you, but what little there is is mutual.

You'd hoped it'd be your saving grace. Hoped the side playing would leave you with at least one friend, even though it was the entire reason you're in this position in the first place. You had hoped your downfall would save you.

He appears before you two minutes late. 1:22 in the morning and he's late. He doesn't seem to have noticed you, a few feet away, surveying the street below him like it's his job (and it is), with his back to you.

"You're late, Birdy." Your voice comes quieter and rougher than it should, and the force it takes nearly sends you to the ground.

He spins around at the sound, hand already curled around the hilt of his sword by the time he faces you. He says your name lowly, like a warning, like always. His posture relaxes nonetheless. "You come with useful advice, I expect. The skirmish by the docks sounded quick, but Batman thinks–"

"I didn't know where else to go," you say suddenly, because you already know you aren't going to be conscious long enough for this conversation.

The effort gets you this time. Your knees, shaky as they've been, finally give out. You understand, and you forgive them; they carried you all the way here, after all. Your body turns on the way down, back of your jacket scraping terribly against the brick as your heels slide through the gravel. The noise you make is somewhere between a groan and a cry.

It rips the breath out of his lungs. Your name is in his mouth again as he drops to his knees beside you, gloved hands already pawing at the hand you have clamped around the knife still sheathed into your side.

"What happened?" he demands, and he's reaching for his pager with the other hand. "Who did this?"

You're too focused on the way your first name sounds in his voice. There's something nice about the way he spaces the syllables.

He says it again, all panic and worry, like he hasn't the time to mask it anymore.

You wonder for a moment if it has anything to do with his lingering stares and gruff get home safe's.

But then he's shaking your shoulder and you're wincing because it's bruised beneath the jacket.

"Stay awake, hey, stay with me. Batman is on his way. We'll fix this." There's a pause where he's sucking in a deep breath and you're trying to focus on his voice. "You're going to be fine."

You think it's a little funny. You managed to get all the way here, up a goddamn fire escape, but the moment you think he's got you, you lose all ability to keep yourself upright. You just want to sleep. You want to lay down and take a nice, long nap.

You hate to admit that it just might be because you trust him more than anyone else you know. You've only known him for a few months, but you're sure that you're safest with him. You're safe with him.

It shouldn't be much of a comfort, with Death staring you down like a lion on it's last meal. You won't need protecting if your decline doesn't level out soon. It's surprising what such little comfort feels like when you're staring Death down like a gazelle with an attitude problem.

You don't remember being moved. Or how you ended up in a medical bed with stiff, scratchy sheets and a nearly flat pillow. You do remember hearing Damian's voice, fading in and our with your consciousness. The words are all garbled and quiet, but you know the recall the sound.

Alfred is the first person you see. He's unfamiliar, but he introduces himself and offers you a warm smile and a glass of water. He brings you a bowl of soup and hands you a bottle of painkillers and another of antibiotics.

You fall asleep again, listening to some little body of water just outside the white room you're settled in.

When you wake up, it's to the sound of an argument. Batman and Robin. It's hushed, angry and patient whispers back and forth, but it's an argument all the same. You've heard them bicker enough over the last few months to recognize it.

You can't quite make it out. You hear your name a few times, something about time, something about healing, something about help. Batman finishes it.

Robin swings the squeaky door open a few moments later.

He stops halfway into the room when he sees you're awake.

You wiggle your way up the mattress to lean against the pillows behind you. "Birdy."

He sighs. "You nearly bleed out in my arms and that's how you greet me?"

He doesn't sound quite right. A little deflated, maybe. Relieved? As if he'd been holding his breath before he entered the room, and just remembered how to breathe when he caught your eye.

Course, you can't be sure he caught it at all, with those white lenses.

You cock a shoulder. "I'm sure you've seen worse. I'm sure I'll have worse."

His posture shifts as he crosses the room. He shakes his head. "That's not funny."

"It's kind of funny," you try, throwing the best carefree smile you can manage when everything beneath your skin is so sore. "I'm the one who was bleeding, that means I'm allowed to make all the jokes I want."

"That's an unhealthy coping mechanism."

"So is dressing up in red and yellow and calling yourself a bird."

His shoulders drop again. You think you might see a smile, but he turns his head away too quickly. "You should be more careful. I can't always be there to drag you out of every fire, you know."

You cross your arms, raising both knees to take some pressure off of your abdomen. He takes it as an invitation and makes himself comfortable in the chair beside the bed. He finds a comfortable position with a little too much familiarity. "I don't expect you to. I wouldn't have even been there if I wasn't getting information for you."

"For Batman–"

"Potato, pa-tot-oh."

He goes rigid again. "I never would have asked you to put yourself in danger like that."

It's defensive. Appalled, almost. Offended.

You don't know how to reply. That doesn't seem to matter though, because he's not done.

"And even if I had, I would have gone with you. I would have made sure you had backup, I would have– this never would have happened."

There's a certain distain in his tone that catches you off guard. A resentment, toward you or his partner you aren't totally sure.

He runs gloved fingers through slick black hair. Heaves a breath. Pushes himself to his feet. Falsely composed. "You may stay as long as you need. Alfred will take care of you."

"Where are you going?" It slips out before you can stop it. And perhaps you could play if off as a standard question—you are in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people, aside from him—but it's much too quick. It sounds a little too much like don't leave me.

And you know he hears it too, because he turns back around so quickly you wonder if he even considered it. "Patrol. It's Wednesday night." And yet he makes to move to leave.

You nod. "Right. Yeah. You're, uh, what? You're over by the city museum tonight, aren't you?" You want to smack yourself. What are you doing, making small talk? He's got places to be, people to save.

"Yes." The top seal of his mask flexes when he raises an eyebrow.

You nod again. An awkward smile on your lips. "I, uh, I didn't know how to feel about knowing where you'd be most of the week, but I guess I'm glad I do. Saved my skin last night, didn't it?"

He drawls in a deep breath. "Suppose it did."

There's a long pause. You aren't sure if you're breathing, but you're sure he isn't. He looks tense, like he's torn between saying something and leaving, body angled not quite toward you.

"You can always come to me," he says suddenly. He must read something on your face, because he tumbles straight into the next sentence. "Last night, you said you didn't know who to go to. I'm telling you now, you can always come to me. I'll fix it, whatever it is."

His voice is tight. A little unsure, but not in the statement. Like a hiker on a rocky trail; unsure of his footing, but certain in his destination.

There's something else in his words. Something scrawled between the lines in thin, fragile letters. Something deeper than wounds and needing backup.

I'll fix it, whatever it is.

Your heart rate picks up, and the heart monitor reveals your secrets on the screen beside you. What it can't reveal is the way the poor organ soars, throwing itself to the clouds with reckless abandon, completely uncaring of the hard trip back down.

You still don't know how to reply. You'd like to say something witty. A little sarcastic, maybe a smidge mean. He's giving you a glimpse at his heart, beating bloody in his hands, and there's a large part of you that wants to poke it. Nothing too wounding, just enough that he never makes the mistake again.

But you can't help it. There's a much larger part of you that wails, who wants to snatch it from him to shield and cradle, because he obviously can't be trusted with it. Not if he's baring it to you.

The deciding party is the reminder of last night. Dragging yourself up a rusted fire escape, praying to anyone who might listen that he'd be there. That he'd help you. You remember thinking he wouldn't. You remember the thought hanging above you like gravediggers as you settled into a coffin: you pushed everyone away, you don't leave room for those who want to help you.

"Thank you," you attempt, and it comes barely above a whisper. You allow it to be tender. You let it embody the raw little piece of you that utters it; the piece that wants so desperately to let him in. The piece that knew he'd save you. The tender little sliver of soul who still believed you deserved to be trusted and supported. The one who still hopes for meaningful connections, even among your collection of throw-away contacts.

You can see the way he relaxes. The way he melts inside his skin, like he'd been expecting you to poke when you could have. Like it lifts a weight off of him, knowing that you'll trust him enough to come to him in the future.

"I'll be back in a few hours. You should sleep."

You roll your eyes. "Sleep in some weird ass white room I've never been in, surrounded by a bunch if people I barely know. Yeah, I'm sure I'll sleep like a baby."

He recognizes that you aren't entirely serious, but he also recognizes the orange pill bottles on the table beside you. "If Alfred has you on those, I trust you will—no matter where you are."

You chuckle, he offers you the tiniest smile, and then he's gone. Vanished into the rest of whatever strange building he whisked you into.

You should be worried about it. Not knowing where you are, exactly who you're with, who has access to you. But you aren't. And it might be the medication making you compliant, and you'll look back on this in a week and be horrified—or it could be that you've broken all your own rules and thrust all if your trust into the hands of a boy you've never seen without a mask.

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader

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mystic-sky · 3 years

Text

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. You could barely hear yourself think. You’d been attempting to sober up for some odd 20 minutes, whilst the pumping music faded through the tiled walls.

You’d drank plenty of water, and finally felt everything coming back to you. Once the writing on the walls started making sense again, you exited the room. The music finally filtered clear and you walked outside.

You ran a hand through your hair, seeing your friends dancing in the distance. You were having a lot of fun actually. The only thing that slowed you down was the urge to pee a while ago. And once you felt yourself stumbling towards the bathroom, you realized it was time to chill for a bit.

You walked through a sea of people towards the bar on the terrace again, feeling like a new woman. You ordered a non-alcoholic drink with a sprite substitute for your base, sitting on the stool closest to the end against the wall.

You threw your head back, taking the deepest breath and looking at the sky.

“Whew...” You sighed. “I almost got shit faced again.”

You heard a laugh from two stools away. You snapped your head towards the only other person on the terrace bar with you. He’d surely been sitting there when you walked past just now. But you were in your own world, and you were thirsty so you hadn’t noticed him.

“Did you just laugh at me?” You quizzed at the white haired gentleman just a few feet from you.

He turned towards you, giving you a toothy grin. “Yeah, cause it was funny.”

You stared at him, wondering why he had the blindfold on. It dawned upon you that he was probably blind, and you didn’t want to be rude.

“Yeah, I guess it was.” You giggled in the most non-confrontational way possible.

“Good for you, though. Knowing your limits.” He said, taking a sip of his own drink. “Ugh. Yo, bar tender, could make this a little sweeter?”

You didn’t know many guys that liked their drinks brimming with sugar like that. Then it dawned upon you about how unconventional and unsafe it was for a blind man to be at a club. He could get roofied and kidnapped and he wouldn’t know a thing. You looked down at his legs. He doesn’t even have a cane.

“Are you here alone?” You asked, almost worried for the guy.

“Are you?” He asked smugly. Was he... hitting on you?

You instinctively adjusted your bodycon dress. It barely covered your butt when you sat down like that, making you place your purse above your lap. But then you remembered, he’s blind.

“No. My friends and I planned this party.” You asked. “Who invited you?”

“A friend of a friend who knew my friend’s cousin, who told my friend and I that we should definitely come to this party in Shibuya City.” He explained whilst shooting you another cheeky smile.

“Uh huh...” you slurred. You plopped your head down on the table, staring at him while you leaned on your arm. He was kind of cute, for a blind guy, you thought. You felt a little insensitive for putting it that way in your head. He had this mysterious vibe about him.

The bar tender set your syrupy drink beside you, but you just continued to look at him.

“I hope that’s just soda.” The white haired male quizzed, picking up a skewered piece of fruit from his drink as the bar tender placed his cup back beside him.

You rolled your eyes, “Yup, just sprite and high fructose corn syrup.”

“You’re cute.” He said, chuckling deeply. You felt your face heating up. His voice was buttery smooth. You wanted to make more conversation with him but you just shyly sat up and hugged your straw with your mouth.

Your eyes caught on his jawline. God damn, you thought. You felt like you could ogle as long as you wanted, what was he gonna do about it?

His face is pretty proportionate. He could model if he wanted. His legs looked long on the stool, and he had broad shoulders. He probably could model, you thought. He surely had the height for it.

It wasn’t til he turned towards you and stuck his tongue out that you jumped a little. Just as he was about to say something, you heard a cellphone notification sound, and you frantically reached towards your purse.

“Ah, that’s me.” He said, fishing his phone out his pocket. You watched him unlock his phone, and send a text.

“Wait, you’re not blind?!” You said, somehow feeling a little violated. You were the one staring through his soul this entire time.

“Is that what you thought?” He chuckled. “I was just about to ask you if you were checking me out, or possibly still feeling tipsy.”

You were at lost for words, feeling stupid. It was normal for you to assume he couldn’t see.

“Who the hell wears a blindfold to a party?”

“Hmmmm, maybe the birthday person? If it’s a surprise party. And then there’s me. I do that.” He grins.

You have a mortified look on your face, earning another laugh from him.

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re attractive too.” He cocked his head to the side, holding his cheek in his palm.

“Thank you...” You said, head feeling hotter than it did when you were drunk in the bathroom earlier.

“I was just about to leave too. I wasn’t having that good of a time. Not to sound rude though, you and your friends planned a good party. I just finished playing wingman earlier and I was bored as hell.”

“It’s okay.. I get it.” You said, sheepishly bringing your straw to your lips again.

“Was...” He spoke again. “I was bored. Til this sweet baby girl sat beside me. Now, I’m intrigued.”

“You’re the intriguing one. I can’t even see half of your face.” You blurted out through red cheeks. He talked with such finesse. You crossed you legs, and he bit his lip playfully at you.

“Ahh, I suppose I could show you. You wanna see that bad?” He licked his lips, leaning forward a bit. Though there were two seats between you, you still pressed your back against the wall.

You slowly swallowed. “I mean... I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Honey, it’s yes or no. Are you as curious about me as I am about you?”

You couldn’t lie. You knew he was attractive even with the blindfold. But the eyes are the window to the soul right? What kind of man were you sitting with right now?

“Let’s bargain a little, yeah? When was the last time you did something crazy, hmm?” He hummed.

You didn’t know, you were so concentrated on the idea of seeing his face. And he’s changing the subject, but he’s still looking right at you, putting you on the spot.

“Define crazy.” You said.

“Skinny dipping, going home with a stranger, robbing a convenience store, you know- crazy shit.”

You burst out laughing at how he smoothly threw that in there. He chuckled along with you.

“It’s been a few hours.” You say, crossing your legs in the opposite direction.

“I like that answer.” He says. “So, if I show you what’s under this blindfold of mine, would you consider coming home with me?”

You were crazy for even considering it when he casually mentioned it the first time. You had no idea who he was, and he could murder you as soon as you both left.

But your gut hadn’t been doing it’s usual thing for the first time in a while. You were nervous, but not because you were scared. He was simply a smooth guy.

“Alright. Let’s see that mug of yours.” You cross your arms.

He lets out a throaty laugh. “Okay,

sweetheart.”

He moves one stool closer towards you and leans on the counter. No one else but you could see his face from this angle. He slowly reached his finger up to pull down the fabric.

He definitely knew how to drag on the moment.

“Or better yet, let’s let the lady of the evening do it, shall we?” He said, bringing his large hands to cover yours. They were hot, and your heart was racing. He lifted both of your hands towards his face.

“Go on, sweets.” You nervously put your fingers into the fabric, sliding it down over his nose and mouth.

****🌏👄🌏 〰️👄〰️ 🌊👄🌊****

You were star struck. The words were dry on your tongue. He was stupendously beautiful. So beautiful you thought it was unfair. His eyes coaxed you further towards him. You could somehow see everything in them, and nothing but blue at the same time.

He brought you back to reality when he stuck his tongue out at you.

“Like what you see?”

“You’re... gorgeous..” You managed to say through blushing cheeks, sitting back up straight.

“Thank you~”

“Alright. That’s enough for now. Don’t want you passing out on me.” He slid the blindfold back up, earning a slight dissatisfied whine from you.

“So, are you down?” He asked, putting his face right back in his palm, grinning from ear to ear. He was honest, and normally you thought you’d be offended by someone blatantly asking you to sleep with them.

Your legs stood up, pulling down what you could of your black bodycon dress.

“You better show me a good time, or I’ll give you the worst review of your life.” You adjusted your purse strap on your shoulder, swaying your hips and offering him a playful smile. The alcohol that wasn’t digested yet gave you a boost of confidence, you passed some hair behind your ears, looking down at him.

“My sex speaks for itself.” He stood up, towering above you and putting out his arm for you to hold. You blushed before loosely wrapping your hand around it. It’s like he had a response for everything, you thought.

“Lucky for you I don’t live too far from here. So you’ll get everything you’re fantasizing about real soon.” He bent down, whispering to you.

How could he be so sure he was going to pleasure you? A stranger he was, he didn’t even know your name, nonetheless how and where you liked to be touched the most.

What a cocky little-

“By the way, my name is Gojo Satoru.” He lifted his blindfold on one side and peered down at you. You’d heard of the name before, but it could be pure coincidence.

“(Name).” You looked away, blushing yet again under his gaze.

“Cute as hell.” He bent down towards your face. “Why don’t we tell your friends that you’re leaving with me, hmmm?”

He walked through the bar with you on his arm, finding your friends. They were in awe at the snack you’d found, realizing who he was far before you did. They coaxed you to go for it.

You turned on your location, and he assured them he’d bring you home.

Then you were in his car, which was incredibly spick and span. You anxiously pressed your thighs together. It smelled of new car and pine scent. Such a guy thing, you thought.

“Are you nervous?” He asked. He turned on the radio, attempting to lighten the mood.

“No, your car is just nice.” You pouted, looking out the tinted windows.

“I know right?” He grinned. “Man I love this song.”

Cocky was an understatement.

You realized that one of your favorite songs had been playing. You watched him confidently sing the lyrics.

“You don’t know it?” He asked, turning towards you.

“Of course I do. It’s my favorite.” You say proudly.

“I knew there was something I liked about you.” He said, humming soon after.

“Ditto. You have decent music taste.” You said.

You both vibed, and eventually he pulled into a parking garage of a fancy apartment building you surely knew you couldn’t afford to rent.

“You live here?” You asked, as he opened the door for you. He gently took hold of your hand before speaking.

“Yup. Feel free to come visit me whenever after tonight.”

“What makes you so sure I’ll be coming back?” You stood up, looking up at him as you pulled your dress down once more.

“You will. I just know.” He chuckled.

“You get around a lot, don’t you Satoru?” You quiz, watching him close the car door and click the button on his keys.

“Here and there. I work more than I’d like to.” He said motioning you to hook yourself onto his arm again.

You wanted to ask him more about his line of work, but he quickly spoke again.

“I just realized you called me by my first name. What a cutie~” He teased.

“What did you want me to call you?” You asked, heels clicking as you both walked towards the elevator.

“If you were my lover, a plethora of things. For now, you can call me whatever you want.”

You poked your cheek with your tongue. “Then I choose your first name.”

“A classic.” He said, pressing the button on the top floor.

“What do your other mistresses call you?” You peered up at him.

“Charming, sometimes cocky.” He looked down at you. This guy was something else.

“You know what I meant.” You said, gripping his arm a bit.

“Lighten up, honey. It’s all about you right now.”

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” You realized it wasn’t a tasteful question to ask in this moment, but you hoped to get some insight about him depending on his answer.

“Most definitely. My family expects me to have the strongest offspring.” He said, cocking his head back in frustration.

“You don’t want to get married?” You ask.

“I do. But not for reasons like that.” He said, exiting the elevator with you. You caught on to what he meant.

“So what would it take for you to fall in love?”

“You make it sound like you want to be a contender.” He smugly smiled at you.

“I get sappy when I’m tipsy.” You blurt out, ears hot and looking in the opposite direction.

He let out a hearty laugh. “As for your question, someone who understands me, which is kind of hard for most people. Oh, and a good sense of humor.”

You hummed, wondering if you fit the bill. You were just here for the sex, but his whole vibe piqued your interest. The blindfold, money, and the name you heard rumors about. He was handsome too, gracing you by allowing you to see his eyes. He seemed to have it all. And all this talk eluding to how he was about to rock your world made you a little nervous.

Could you deliver anything for him besides your body?

You watched him fish out his keys and slide them into the door knob. A blast of cool air hit your skin and the scent of suede and leather furniture found your nose. You stepped inside, leaving your heels at the door.

“What did you say you do for a living again?” You peered back at him, watching him hang his jacket and shutting the door.

“I’m an accountant.” He says slyly. You let out a laugh, and he knows you didn’t believe him, nor did he expect you to.

You left it at that, watching him approach the kitchen. He washes his hands, and motioned you to do the same. “Can I get you anything? I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

You shook your head. “You can cook?”

“In the midst of my survival, it became a necessity, alas’ I learned.” He said sarcastically, taking out two bottles of water. He set one in front of you anyway and took some gulps from his own.

“Couldn’t you have said ‘yes, my parents taught me’ like a normal person?” You said, sitting on the stool by the island.

“I could have. But I’m far from normal, if you couldn’t tell.” He pulled down his blind fold and set it on the island countertop, exposing his face again.

“Why do you wear it... if you don’t mind me asking...”

“I’m sensitive to light. Sometimes I wear glasses. It’s a mood.” He was lying, and you knew. You didn’t actually expect him to tell you the truth. You weren’t particularly bothered either. There were plenty of things he didn’t know about you.

“Is there anything you want to ask me?” You say, tapping your fingers on the bottled water.

He placed a hand on his chin.

“Are you allergic to latex?” He leaned directly across from you.

“No...” You smirked. “That was thoughtful.”

“That’s just the kind of guy I am.” He chuckled lightly. He slid around the table, closer towards you.

“Mhmmm.” You say, looking up at him. It was hard to stay focused. Why did he have to be so good looking? You could see the skin of his chest through his white t-shirt when he leaned over you like that. You tugged at your bottom lip.

“Actually, there’s one other thing.” He was so close his hair nearly touched your forehead. You could smell faint remnants of fruity alcohol and mint. You never even saw him pop one into his mouth.

And to guess what it could be, you had no clue. How could someone be so open but so hard to unveil at the same time?

“And what might that be?” The response is barely audible, made for only him to hear it.

“What would it take for you to fall in love?”

You were taken aback. All this time you honestly couldn’t tell how genuinely interested he was in you other than how you looked.

“You really wanna know?” You said, leaning towards him a little. His lashes were so long, he was so pretty he put your looks to shame- at least you felt that way.

“I asked you, didn’t I?” He said, cocking his to the side in the most kiddish, yet charming way ever.

“Someone who could make me feel safe. A good listener, a good communicator, and someone whose funny. And then I cross my fingers and hope for the sex to be good.” You explain. He laughs a bit before speaking.

“And I just happen to be here right in front of you. Quite the coincidence, don’t you think?” He curls his lips into a sly smile.

“You’ve yet to show me a few things. The sex may or may not be a dealbreaker.” You roll your eyes.

He brought a hand to your chin, touching noses with you now. “Alright, let me show you why I’m the best.”

He pulled your lips in for a soft kiss. His lips were smooth and slightly slick from whatever chapstick he was using. You had wanted him to kiss you so badly, growing anxious of the sexual tension between the conversations you were having. His teeth pulled against your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. The pressure from the suction sent messages to the nerves in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t often someone could give you pleasure in your core from a kiss.

You let out delicate whine, making him let go and press his forehead against yours.

“How was that?” He asked. The tone behind it clearly displayed that he knew he had gotten to you but he had asked you anyway, just because.

“Terrible.” You say, adverting your gaze from his eyes and towards his rosy lips.

“Guess I have to try again.” He says, taking hold of your mouth with his once again. He’s closer to your body now, touching and swirling his fingers down your back. He sent chills down your spine, sucking and pulling firmly at your lips.

His tongue fell into your mouth somehow, and you welcomed it. You found yourself trying to stick your tongue in his mouth, oddly invested in making him see you had been a decent kisser yourself. Your hands were living in his hair, around his neck. You weren’t shy to touch him at all.

“Look whose all over me.” He smirked.

“You’re supposed to be showing me something, right?” You tugged at his shirt, earning a laugh from him.

He dipped his head down towards your lips again, continuing his tongue work for you. He snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You slipped out the stool, on your top toes. Your chest pressing against his, you could feel his heart beat. You could smell his shampoo, his cologne. All of it filled your brain. Your body felt like some sort of electric current connecting with his as soon as skin touched skin. You draped your arms around his neck, realizing just how touch starved you actually were.

He had been pumping life into you and sucking it out at the same time. His large hot hands began running up and down the exposed back skin of your dress.

"Jump." He barely broke the kiss whilst ordering you.

You hopped best you could, and his hands found the back of your knees. You wrapped your legs around his torso before feeling large hot hands cup your ass cheeks. Your dress riding up this far was inevitable, but you couldn’t help but let out a small yelp when he clutched your butt like that.

He pulled away from the kiss for a moment, “Are you gonna make cute sounds like that the whole time?”

“Are you gonna keep making commentary about it?” You mulled.

He squeezed your butt again, this time smacking the left side. “Only if you want me to.”

“You’ve been making these cute little noises the whole night. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, it’s driving me nuts.” He adds, spinning you away from where you both had been standing.

You couldn’t say anything, and with him being so close you could only pan your glance else where.

“And blushing so hard just like that. It’s precious.” He cocked his head in the direction you looked away from him in.

“Can you go back to kissing me?” You requested, a feeble attempt to get him to stop talking about your flushed cheeks.

“So cute.” He cooed.

“It’s actually more unfair how good looking you are, you know that?” You managed to say.

He stuck his tongue out, shooting a wink at you.

You eagerly kissed him, taking his tongue into your mouth. He let out a low moan against your lips. You were suddenly eager to please him, you tightened you legs around him, grinding almost. You felt him walking through the condo space. His tongue took control again, swirling around yours. You were lost in his kiss when your back connected with cool fabric. He laid you down on the bed, your small body sinking into the fluff.

“I’m about to spoil you rotten.” He sat up above you, removing his shirt and tossing it to the floor. He was fitter than you expected. Pale skin with hues of pink here and there. You wondered what his skin routine was. Or maybe it was genetics? It was a bit nerve-racking. He seemed to be this perfect human being, physically speaking.

He lowered himself to your neck, putting his hot mouth against your skin. He sucked at the soft skin, nipping it with his teeth. He cupped one of your breasts, squeezing and massaging firmly. You were ecstatic he was finally touching you. As you rubbed your hand against his smooth chest his tongue found your sweet spot. You whined again, earning a hum from him.

You felt him drag his mouth down your neck resting sweet kisses between your mounds.

“May I?” He asked, tugging the bottom of your dress. You nodded. You sat up, pulling the thing off yourself.

“Getting impatient I see.” He said, passing his thumb over your chin.

“Hurry it up.” You roll your eyes again.

“Maybe I want our first time to be special.” He teased.

“I didn’t pin you as the sentimental type.” You say.

“I’m a man of mysteries, but you know that already.” He said, pressing his lips to yours again.

Your hands gently held the sides of his head, kissing him back. His hair was undeniably soft as silk. He broke away from your mouth, kissing your collarbone instead. His large hands took to your breasts again, exposing one of your nipples to the cool air. They were already hard and swelling to be touched.

He placed his wet mouth onto it, sucking and flicking his tongue against the thing. You were squirming beneath him. Aching to be stimulated else where, your underwear was damp from your core, pooling between your legs.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly while he sucked. Your placed your hands on the back of his head, almost patting him for doing so well. You whimpered softly, attempting to grind against him to give yourself some sort of stimulation down there.

“I’ve got you, baby. You’ll get all of it. Be a good girl and hold out for me.” He said, looking up at you. You wish you could’ve watched the slick words fall from his lips, but you couldn’t see them under your breasts.

You gave him a bashful nod. You were beginning to melt under his touch. You didn’t know what came over you, but you were ready to submit to him. Your needy and throbbing pussy was draining the bratty energy right out of you. He hadn’t done much, but you were ready to do whatever he asked of you.

You felt him unhook your bra whilst he sucked and massaged your mounds. The fabric slid off your body as he mumbled against your skin. “So sexy.”

“You’re the sexy one.” You told him, knowingly feeding his ego.

“Thank you.” He said proudly, setting you down flat again. You watched him trail his lips down your stomach, leaving kisses in some places” He was feathering and brushing his lips on the skin more than actually kissing it, just to tease you.

He placed his fingers under the hem of your underwear, pulling them down and exposing your sweet sex. Your wetness dribbled onto the bed as he slid the fabric down your thighs and past your ankles.

“Are you this wet all the time?” You watched him cock an eyebrow through his bangs. You bit your lip.

“You talk too much.” You turned your head.

“You think so?” He said, spreading your legs and dipping his head towards your sex. He split your sticky, wet folds with two fingers, exposing your clit and pressing the flat of his tongue against it in an upward flick.

“Mmm.. nnh...” You moan, showing him that you liked it.

He hummed back at you before pressing a kiss to your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over it. He pulled you down towards the edge of the bed, mouth still buried onto you. One arm wrapped around your body, hand cradling your rib cage. His other hand pinning one of your legs as far back as he thought you could manage.

“Ahh... fuck.. ah...” You cursed. You wondered where he learned to eat pussy like that. You were trembling in his arms, raking your hands through his hair and undercut.

He slipped a finger into you, curling against the roof of your sex, causing your spine to curl in response. You let out a cracked and broken moan, much to his liking.

He inserted another finger into you, allowing more slick to collect onto his hand and into the bed. He was so good, you sat up with the bit of strength you had just to watch him eat it. His deep, azure ocean eyes were resting on your frame the whole time, waiting for you to cum.

“Just like that...” Your eyes rolled back, you were reaching your end. You started clenching around his fingers and throbbing against his tongue.

“G’head. Cum for me.” He parted his lips from your sex for only a second, flicking and sliding his fingers in and out of you.

Your body obeyed, releasing onto his hands and tongue. He kept at it, overstimulating you as he watched you ride out your orgasm.

When he finally ripped his fingers and tongue from you, you were a panting mess.

“I’ve got a lot more for you.” You watched him lick the slick from his fingers. He towered above your body, tilting his to the side before speaking again.

“But do you need to rest?” He seemed genuinely concerned for your weak body. He almost thought he should’ve held back a little. Maybe just the tongue would’ve been fine, he thought.

“I’m fine.” You say, partially dazed. He’s definitely something else, you think.

“We can keep going.” You sit up, pushing him backwards.

“Pants. Take them off.” You demand.

“Anything you say.” He’s delighted, unbuckling and stripping the rest of his clothes for you. Your eyes twitch at his size. He was part animal without question- he had to be. You’d seen your share of sizes, but you couldn’t humble this guy even if you tried.

“Are you kidding me,” you mutter. “Is there anything you don’t have?”

“I hate to break it to you, but no.” He complacently smiled. You found yourself laughing a little before he spoke again.

“Actually, a wife and kids,” he said, turning towards one of his dressers, digging inside.

“And frankly, I’d like to keep it that way.” He said, ripping the condom wrapper with his teeth. You watched him slide the rubber over and down his shaft.

“That’s a little disappointing...” the words fell from your lips without you realizing.

“Again, eventually. I’d like to start off with a girlfriend first, obviously.” His response triggered a mental face palm on your part, making you realize you’d said what you said out loud.

You felt like a teenage girl. Why did a little part of you decide he was husband material just from him eating you out? He’s still a stranger. A naked one, but a stranger.

“You’re adorable.” He said, climbing above you. “You’ve got a crush on me now?”

“Get to fucking.” You tugged at his ear, clearly agitated. He dipped his head towards your ear and whispered,

“That’s okay. I’ve got a crush on you, too.”

The urge to cover your face in embarrassment was strong. He chuckled, “it definitely should be crime for anyone to be this precious.”

“You’re making my heart squeeze, looking all cute like that.” He took hold of his member in his hand, pressing and sliding it through your wet folds.

“Alright, I’ve made you wait long enough.” He said, penetrating himself into you. Your hot sex slowly wrapped around his length, you wrapped your arms around him bracing yourself for the sharp pain that followed. You let out painful squeak.

“Oh shit- I’m so sorry sweetheart.” He shushed you. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks and neck. You were surprised at how tender he was being. His delicate side was seeping out at the seams.

“I’m okay... Just give me a moment.” You say, your heart skipped a beat as you adjusted to his size. He caressed you ears and kept giving you soft kisses on your face and neck.

“If you keep that up I might fall in love with you.” You tease, but apart of you meant it.

“You might.” He said, earning yet another bashful look from you.

“You can move now.” You assured him, nuzzling more into the bed. He braced his hips back before pumping in again, and again, and again.

He kept poking parts of your vaginal canal that you never even thought possible, like he was scratching this insatiable itch you had for years now. You never knew you could feel this full.

His lips connected to the skin underneath your ear, sucking and kissing you gently as he thrusted into your hot sex.

“..so... d-deep... it’s so... deep.” You stuttered through every jab at your core. The heat radiating off of your body felt hot enough to start a fire. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought you had a fever. You raked your fingers through the smooth of his undercut and combed through his hair as he fucked you.

“Why the fuck is it so wet?” He groaned into the crook of you neck. Your other arm wrapped around his back, trying so hard not to scratch his delicate skin. You didn’t want to hurt him, nonetheless you couldn’t tell if he’d be okay with it.

Your sweet moans filled the room, which took nicely to his ears. His hips bucked into you quicker, causing ripples of bliss throughout your body. Somehow, your toes were tingling, curling even, and you could feel pleasure in more places than just the center of your sex. You barely knew what to do with your hands, gripping the sheets and pillows around you.

“You can pull my hair if you want,” he said, lifting himself from the warm space he created between your neck and shoulder.

You gladly accepted, pulling some hair on the back of his head as he continued to thrust into you. You realized he sort of lead you on, giving you the match to start a fire in him. He shot you the most seductive blue glare as his head jerked back in delight. He bit his lip into a smile, thrusting faster into you.

Your moans went from sweet song to broken and incoherent mess. “T-That’s not f-fair.”

“When did I ever say I was fair?”

You felt like he was winning again somehow, not really registering when it became a competition. You wanted to fight back, pulling his hair again, exposing his neck to your mouth. You pressed your mouth to the skin, sucking and biting against it.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that, sweetie?”

He slipped both arms around your body pulling both your bodies up straight. He was still inside you, rocking your body onto his length. He brought his lips back to your neck, sucking and biting against it.

“Ahh...” you panted. “F-fuck, put me down!”

“You’re gonna cum just like this.” He said, bouncing your body up and down his shaft. You didn’t think he could go any deeper, but gravity brought you down onto his length, forcing heavy moans from your lips.

You were lost in his sex, finding yourself bucking your hips back onto his length and grinding forward against him.

“What a sweet girl, you like that, right? Of course you do.”

You felt yourself reaching another orgasm, and your grinding became erratic against him.

“Yeah that’s right, grind on it baby.”

You released yourself onto him, leaning forward over his shoulders, panting heavily.

You were surprised when he laid you back down for a moment, watching him pin both your legs back and over his shoulders.

“Let’s see if you can take it like this.”

He pumped himself into yet again, earning a ragged moan from your frail self. You could feel him so deep in your guts, you were getting light headed from the overwhelming pleasure. You braced yourself for each thrust as he pounded into you. You juices were splashing with every plunge he made. He sat up, before speaking.

“Hold the back of your legs for me, baby.” He said, watching himself pump into your sopping cunt.

“Such a pretty pussy.” If there was anything Satoru adored most, it had to be watching his partner from an angle like that. He took his thumb and held it to your mouth.

“Suck,” he pressed it to your lips; waiting for you to open your mouth while he fucked you. You let him put his thumb in your mouth while he held your jaw with his large hand. You swirled your tongue around it before he pulled it away and mouthed a ‘thank you’ at you. He placed the slick thumb against your clit for you and rubbed in circles while he pumped.

You squealed in delight, finding yourself starting to beg him to make you cum again.

“I will honey,” he grinned, “I will.”

Your arms and legs were weak from being pinned back, falling to his sides. You had just enough strength to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you again, connecting his mouth with yours. You begged for his tongue, moaning against his lips.

“Fuck..” he mumbled into your mouth. You clenched yourself around him. He could feel himself nearing his orgasm but he had promised to spoil you first. It was getting harder for him to fight back the urge to release.

Your clit was throbbing, and you were dribbling a bit at the mouth. He pulled your bottom lip into his, sucking hard. You couldn’t hold it any longer.

“You’re cumming again, aren’t you? Moan my name for me, pretty please?”

The pace of his thrusts didn’t falter, giving you the final orgasm you so desperately deserved. You screamed his name, voice cracking whilst he battered your pussy.

Your voice was hoarse, riding your orgasm out as he approached his. It was enough to send him over the edge, satiating his ego and so much more. You’re throbbing erratically, and all he could feel was his cock being gulped swallowed by you. He shuddered against your lips, releasing himself into the rubber he wore inside you.

He collapsed beside you. Your brain was cloudy from pleasure. You watched his chest rise and fall as he peered and panted back at you, holding his member in his hand. He slid the condom off and tossed it to the floor.

You were alarmed he was still hard. You could barely move, hips gyrating and insides throbbing a muck. Trying your best to gather your thoughts, you turned your body towards him.

“Will I be getting my review now or later?” He snickered, damp bangs sticking to his forehead. You took hold of the nearest pillow, and slammed it onto his face.

“Later I presume?” He laughs. “I’ll give you time to think it over.”

You would be thinking about it for while. It wasn’t often you’d meet someone who delivered on everything they said they’d do. It was uncanny how perfect he was. Could you fall for him because of it? Or should you keep your qualms to yourself and try to forget everything about tonight? And now that you remembered, he told you he had a crush on you, or was he egging you on in the spur of the moment?

“Do you want a t-shirt?” He asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. He had already managed to get some underwear on while you laid there lost in thought.

“A t-shirt?” You say, puzzled. Your arms go to cover your bare chest as you sit up, hair completely messy.

“I’m kind of tired. I thought I could drive you home in the morning instead.” He yawned, pulling on some sweat pants.

“You’re not kicking me out?” You say, catching the shirt he tossed you as he tied the strings to his pants.

“Just what do you take me for?” He said, cocking his head to the side. You were starting to wonder if his neck hurt. You watched him bend down and pull out what seemed like a hot towel from an incubator and hand it to you.

“I can wipe you up if you’d like. Front to back!”

“I’ve got it.” You say nervously, wiping the insides of your damp thighs.

You slid the gray t-shirt over your head, “And I dunno, I just thought this is where the night would end for me.”

“Sweetie, I literally just told you that I like you. Did you forget?”

“Y-You were serious?” You stutter.

“Did you not want me to be?” He casually walks towards a mini fridge sitting in the corner. He pulled out two more bottles of water and handed one to you whilst drinking his own.

“It’s not that at all, it’s just we hardly know each other and-

“So you do like me?” He quizzed.

“I mean I wouldn’t say that I don’t but-

“So we can work out the details later.” He grinned.

You facepalmed. He looked down at you as you sat there on the edge of the bed before letting out a sigh.

“Why don’t you drink some water and then we can get ready for bed? Unless you really want to go home. I’ll drive you. Tell me what you want, it’s no problem at all.” He kneeled in front of you, showing you that he did have compassionate side.

You couldn’t lie, you did want to lay in bed with him. It wasn’t a matter of trust anymore. You felt confident that he wouldn’t hurt you. You were more concerned that he decided he liked you on the spot like that. Actually, you were more concerned that you decided you liked him on the spot like that.

“I’m staying. I’m tired too.” You smiled. “I wasn’t trying to fuss. I do like you a lot.” A little more than you should, but you decided to leave that part out.

“Then that settles it.” He smiles back, holding your chin. “Now, it’s important to stay hydrated! Especially after a work out!”

He held the water up to your mouth.

“I can do it myself.” You say, grabbing the water out of his hands, taking a few swigs. He holds up his hands in defense.

“Well, the bathroom is down the hall to the left. You can also use my personal bathroom, which is through that door right there. I also have spare tooth brushes too!” He assured you.

“So you do do this often. Hmph.” You say, laying back on the bed.

“Girls have it rough. I try my best to have the necessities.” He shrugged, laying beside you. Your eyes drag down towards his bare chest skin before looking right back up towards his eyes.

“I can also go sleep in the other room if you need more security.” He suggests.

“I was looking forward to sleeping with you in here.” You say quietly.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You glared at him, acknowledging that you know that he heard you and you wouldn’t repeat yourself.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” He laughed. He tucked himself underneath the covers before lifting the other side and patting the empty space for you.

You crawled up and slid underneath the cool fabric. He reached over your body to turn the lights off.

He snuggled himself down to your height and you could still faintly see his face.

“Comfy?” You nodded shyly. His bed was undeniably firm yet fluffy.

“Good.” He smiled.

He’d been so kind yet so arrogant at the same time. Just how were you going to figure him out? He said there was time to work out the details, but your head still spun a thousand miles a minute. For someone who had it all, and clearly many secrets, he was seemingly cheery. You had no idea what bothered this guy. But he’d taken a liking to you somehow. And you couldn’t stop blushing at the fact that he literally just fucked you senseless and now he’s smiling at you in his bed like nothing happened.

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, earning a confused look from him.

“10/10 oral experience. 10/10 sexual experience. 10/10 aftercare experience. 8.5/10 for not giving me pants. Overall rating is 9.6/10. Would come again.”

“You could’ve asked for pants,” He smirked getting up. You tugged his arm, shaking your head.

“You’re gonna let all the heat out. Stay.”

“But my score? I deserve a 10/10.” He argued playfully.

You wrapped your arm around him, pulling him back down underneath the blanket with you.

“Here’s your extra credit. Cuddle with me until the morning. It might change your grade.

Results may vary.”

He laughed lightly, wrapping his arms around your body.

“About that ‘would come again’ part. When will that be?” He said, looking down at you.

“Soon.” You said, burying your head into his chest.

Part 2

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo sensei #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk #jjk x reader

1K notes · View notes

hansoulo · 3 years

Text

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver. “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

“Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting. “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett/reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x you #boba fett fic #boba fett oneshot #boba fett imagine

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timelesslords · 3 years

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Girl’s Night

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In which Annabeth has a little too much wine at Girl's Night and feels very guilty about it. Thankfully, Percy doesn't mind taking her home.

Annabeth Chase was very good at holding her alcohol.

In all honesty it was mostly because she didn’t drink that much to begin with. Being drunk had never been all that appealing to her— years of being on edge for the next fight made it difficult for her to intentionally dull her senses, and she never liked how foggy it made her brain either. Living in New Rome for the past few years hadn’t completely squashed those instincts, despite its top of the line anti-monster security.

But still. Annabeth could keep it together pretty well, when she chose to indulge. She’d gone to a few wild parties earlier in college, mostly at Piper’s behest, and she didn’t mind having a few glasses of wine every once in a while.

Girl’s Night was every once in a while. Every first Friday of the month, if you wanted to be exact about it. In all honesty the practice was probably a bit dumb and middle aged for a bunch of people (and, okay, ‘a bunch of people’ was generous- it was really only Piper, Annabeth and Hazel) in their early twenties, but Annabeth didn’t care. It was hard to keep up with people these days, and Annabeth appreciated the emphasis on female camaraderie and friendship.

Plus, Piper had really stellar taste in wine.

Tonight’s had been especially good, and after a long and stupidly stressful week at school (Annabeth wished she could emulate Percy’s senioritis, but unfortunately the Architecture program only got harder as it went on, not easier) Annabeth found herself a little extra appreciative of the relaxing effects of alcohol.

It seemed like all of them had had a tough week, because they were all buzzed pretty fast. Piper was even happy to deliver the latest Hollywood gossip, courtesy of her dad, and Hazel was telling them a story about a probie getting stuck in the unicorn stables that made Annabeth laugh so hard she was practically sobbing. Piper and Hazel were not much better; Piper had completely fallen off the couch from cracking up so hard, and Hazel could barely get a word in edgewise before she completely dissolved into giggles again.

It was then that Annabeth caught a glance of the two completely empty bottles of wine in front of them, and realized that all of them— though mostly she, specifically— had made a grave mistake. She had no idea how many times her own glass had been filled and then subsequently emptied, but it was enough that she was well past tipsy and solidly in drunk territory.

It was hard to care about the bad parts of being drunk when you were currently drunk, Annabeth was finding. Everything was just so much funnier.

Apparently Jason had also sensed that they were drunk, or maybe he just had heard the deranged cackling coming from the living room, and wanted to make sure they were all still alive.

“Are you guys alright?” he asked, sticking his head through the doorway.

“I’m fantastic. I mean, I don’t know about you two, but I am—” Piper paused, letting out a small hiccup, “Feeling awesome.”

“I feel great,” Hazel agreed, barely able to stop laughing long enough to let the words out.

Annabeth wasn’t sure she remembered how to form coherent words anymore, so she just gave a thumbs up.

“You guys are really drunk,” Jason said, voice an impressive mix of concern and amusement. He walked into the room, picking up one of the empty bottles of wine they’d left on the table and examining the label.

“That’s my man. Very smart,” Piper said, apparently completely seriously, leaning against Jason’s leg.

“Pipes, you realize this wine is like, 20%, right?” Jason asked, ignoring her declaration of his intelligence.

Piper frowned. The expression seemed very exaggerated, or maybe Annabeth’s head was just messing with her. It was very funny either way, and she had to stifle a laugh.

“Shut up Annabeth. Let me see that,” Piper said, holding her hand up for the bottle. Jason very wisely did not let Piper hold the bottle herself, instead holding it at eye level in front of her. She gripped the bottom of it, pulling it towards her and squinting at the label.

“Nevermind. I can’t read anymore,” Piper said, relinquishing her grip on the bottle. That sent Hazel and Annabeth into another fit of laughter. They would probably be drunk even if the wine wasn’t that strong, but it certainly explained why Annabeth felt like she was floating right now. She hadn’t been this wasted since at least freshman year, maybe ever. Everything was a little blurry at the edges, and she was dizzy in a kind of delightful way. She let out one last giggle.

“And that means we are officially at the me-calling-your-boyfriends time of the night,” Jason said, setting the bottle back down on the table. Piper groaned.

“Party pooper,” she grumbled, though she didn’t move herself off his legs.

“Sorry babe,” he said, apologetically, “You guys are welcome to crash here, obviously. I’ll just call Frank and Percy to let them know.”

“S’fine,” Hazel said, yawning and pulling out her phone, “I’ve been texting him. I’ll just tell him now.”

“That’s against the spirit of Girls Night.” Piper said, pointing an accusing finger at Hazel, “You’re a cheater.”

“I had to tell him about your dad’s friend secretly dating his co-star! She was in his favorite movie!” Hazel protested.

Annabeth had not texted Percy tonight, in part because, as Piper had said, it was against the spirit of Girl’s Night, but also because he was probably asleep. Usually he’d stay up and wait for her to get home, even though New Rome was probably the safest city on the face of the planet, and the chances of anything happening to Annabeth on the six block walk between their respective apartments was ludicrously slim. But he’d been practically dead on his feet when she left, and had agreed pretty easily to turn in early when she suggested it.

She immediately felt bad about the prospect of waking him up. She knew she should though— he’d much rather be woken up in the middle of the night than wake up in the morning with her not there. Even though it would take about three seconds to check his phone and realize everything was fine, old habits die hard and it would unnecessarily stress him out. Especially since it was the one night he’d agreed not to stay up and wait for her.

So waking him up was inevitable. Worse, she was starting to realize that she really wanted to be home with him. As comfortable as Piper’s floor was (and given how drunk Annabeth was, it was genuinely pretty comfortable) she just really wanted to be in her own bed, preferably with Percy also in it.

“Annabeth’s gonna want to go home,” Piper predicted, drawing Annabeth out of her thoughts, “She gets boyfriend clingy when she’s drunk.”

“I do not,” Annabeth said, even though she most definitely did.

“You’re a bad liar,” Hazel said, patting Annabeth’s leg sympathetically.

“I’m an excellent liar,” Annabeth said. Under normal circumstances this would be true. Unfortunately being drunk was not normal for her.

“Uh huh.” Piper said, “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want Percy to come pick you up.”

Annabeth looked into Piper’s eyes, currently a very pretty green shade. Not as pretty as the shade of green Percy’s eyes were, but nice, for eyes that were not Percy’s. What was she supposed to be doing again?

“This feels like a trick,” Annabeth said, squinting.

“She wants Percy to pick her up,” Piper said, tugging at Jason’s pant leg.

“Yeah, I got that,” Jason said. Annabeth was pretty sure he was laughing at them, but in her current state it was a little hard to tell. “Let me go get my phone.”

Piper whined as Jason walked away, leaning back against the couch.

“Can you even walk, Chase?” she asked, looking dubiously at Annabeth “He’s going to have to carry you home.”

“I can walk,” Annabeth said, very offended even though she didn’t entirely know if her statement was true. Piper snorted.

“You’re lucky Percy is strong.”

“This is all your fault, McLean. Don’t think I’ve forgotten,” Annabeth said, aiming a soft kick at Piper’s leg.

“Okay, in my defense I didn’t read the label,” Piper said, pulling her leg back just in time to avoid Annabeth’s foot.

“How is that a defense?” Hazel asked, though she was giggling.

Piper did not have time to further defend and/or implicate herself, because Jason appeared in the doorway again.

“Percy’s coming, he’ll be here in ten.”

“Was he mad?” Annabeth asked anxiously. Piper rolled her eyes.

“I don’t think Percy is physically capable of being mad at you,” she said.

“He thought it was funny, actually,” Jason said, ignoring Piper.

“Told you so,” Piper said smugly.

“Shut up,” Annabeth grumbled.

The next ten minutes passed in a very drunken blur. Now that she had fully realized she was intoxicated, the feeling only seemed to compound, each uncounted drink catching up to her with a reckless abandon. She was vaguely aware of Piper crawling back on the couch to lie down, and Hazel curling up in an armchair. Annabeth just stayed on her little patch of floor. If she got too comfortable, she wasn’t going to want to get up.

She could feel something anxious starting to prickle under the surface of all her artificially happy feelings, but it was sort of difficult to dissect when she couldn’t really think straight.

“Hey, Wise Girl,” a familiar voice said.

Annabeth looked up to see Percy smiling down at her. He looked so pretty she almost started crying. Almost. Crying as a normal human function was fine and good and emotionally necessary and all that, but crying because you were drunk and your boyfriend was hot was just embarrassing.

“I’m drunk,” she told him. Might as well get right to the point.

“Yeah, I gathered,” he said, still looking at her with entirely too much affection, “You feel okay enough to walk home?”

“Yeah. I wanna walk,” Annabeth said, accepting his hand and pulling herself to his feet. If he hadn’t been holding her she probably would have fallen over.

“You sure about that?” he asked skeptically, putting his other hand around her waist, steadying her. She leaned into him, because she always leaned into him, and yeah, okay, maybe she needed his support to walk straight, but what about it.

“Very sure,” Annabeth said. Already she was adjusting to being on her feet. Percy half looked like he wanted to protest, but making it out of the living room seemed to convince him that she was okay to at least make it a few blocks home.

Sitting down on the bench in the front hall to put her shoes on was somehow worse than walking. She managed to shove her shoes into her sneakers, but getting them tied was probably not going to happen.

“I can’t remember how shoelaces work,” Annabeth admitted, looking up at him, “Does that mean I’m screwed?”

“Well, there’s good news and there’s bad news,” Percy said, leaning down to tie her shoe for her. Annabeth shut her eyes tight, then opened them again, trying very hard to focus out her vision. It didn’t work.

“What’s the bad news?” Annabeth asked, because bad news tended to ruin good news, and she’d rather just get it out of the way.

“You’re going to be very hungover tomorrow.” Percy said, straightening up. She thought he was smiling, but considering there were two of his head floating around in front of her, it was kind of hard to tell.

“Are you laughing at me?” Annabeth asked. He was definitely smiling now.

“I would never,” Percy said, wrapping an arm around her waist, “C’mon, lets go.”

Their goodbye was not as extended or elaborate as Annabeth expected, mostly because Piper and Hazel were already half-way to being passed out. Still, there were some waves, some I-love-yous and a partially incoherent apology from Piper, though who it was aimed at was something of a mystery.

Stairs were just a bit tricky, but she managed to stumble down them without seriously injuring herself. She was sure Percy helped somehow, but she could barely tell the difference between his arms supporting her and her own movement.

“What’s the good news?” Annabeth asked, once they were safely on the sidewalk, heading in the direction of her apartment. It was probably cold, but between Percy’s body heat next to her and her own drunkenness, she could barely feel it.

“You haven’t thrown up?” Percy offered, half-heartedly. Annabeth swallowed down a gag.

“Don’t say those words again,” she warned. Percy winced.

“Right. Sorry.”

“That wasn’t even good news, that was irrelevant news,”

“I think it’s excellent news, personally.” Percy said. He was laughing at her again, probably, but she also probably deserved it. Probably. She was wrapped under his shoulder because his arm was still helping hold her up, so it was kind of hard to see his face. She focused her eyes down at the sidewalk in front of her instead, focusing on not tripping.

“You would,” Annabeth said, “You didn’t have good news, did you?”

“I was sort of hoping you would forget,” Percy admitted.

“I never forget,” Annabeth reminded him. She had an excellent memory. Especially for things that had happened only 2 minutes ago. Admittedly the rest of the night was already starting to get a little blurry.

“I’m sorry for doubting you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Annabeth felt a small stab of guilt. He was teasing her, sure, but he was also being stupid nice even after she’d dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night to practically carry her intoxicated self back home.

And now she was remembering where that little wiggle of anxiety had been stemming from. He didn’t like being around drunk people. He never really said anything, because he was him and thus was probably allergic to the mere thought of even mildly killing anyone else’s fun for his own personal comfort or convenience. But she knew him well enough that he didn’t need to say anything. He’d never taken up Piper’s offer to go partying with them, even though he encouraged Annabeth to go when she’d wanted to, and he hardly ever drank himself. Even then it was only in social situations, and usually just one drink that he probably didn’t even feel.

So maybe he hadn’t flat out said he didn’t like people being wasted around him, but he had told her about Gabe; how he was a drunk, abusive asshole. It wasn’t too hard to put the pieces together.

“I’m sorry I got drunk,” Annabeth said. It was kind of a lame apology considering she was probably slurring her words a good amount, but she meant it anyways.

She felt something shift in his demeanor— if she was sober, she would know instantly what the slight change in pressure meant. As it was, she was kind of in the dark.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked. She thought he sounded surprised, but maybe she was mishearing, because it would be dumb for him to be surprised by that. At the very least, he should understand she felt bad about ruining his night.

“Because, I got messy and you had to wake up and take me home even though I could have just slept on Piper’s floor,” Annabeth said. Words were sort of flowing out of her without her completely approving them, in a jumbled rush. She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t quite remember how to stop it either.

“I don’t mind,” he said, just as she’d known he would. He meant it too, even drunk off her ass she could tell he wasn’t annoyed at her at all, even though he would be totally justified to be.

“But I could have just slept on the floor,” Annabeth repeated, though even the thought caused her to lean deeper into him.

Percy slowed his pace, almost stopping. Annabeth tried looking up at him to decipher what he was thinking, but she couldn’t really make out his face well enough to tell.

“This isn’t just about waking me up, isn’t it?” he asked.

Ugh. Why did she forget in her drunken stupor that he knew her just as well as she knew him? Obviously he was going to pick up on something deeper that was making her feel guilty.

“I just—” Annabeth started, then stopped. It was difficult to pick words precisely enough for the thoughts she was having.

“I know you don’t really like parties and stuff. Or drunk people. And I’m a drunk people right now, so I’m sorry.”

Great job, Annabeth, Annabeth thought to herself. Very delicately put. The lack of subject verb agreement, that was a nice touch. You didn’t sound completely fucked up even a little bit.

God, she hated being drunk.

“I didn’t want you to wake up alone, tomorrow,” Annabeth said, trying again, “But I forgot that me being drunk might be worse, so that's why I feel bad.”

Percy stopped walking. At first Annabeth thought it was in response to what she’d just said, but then she realized they were in front of their apartment building.

Then she realized he wasn’t making any moves to go inside, so it was about what she’d said after all. Instead he turned her around so she could see his face, keeping his arms around her waist in support.

She couldn’t quite read his expression, yet another reason why alcohol was the devil.

“I have a feeling we’re going to need to repeat this conversation in the morning when you’re sober,” he started, “But just for the record, you being drunk doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

Annabeth studied his expression, searching his face for any signs of mistruth. She found none, but she also couldn’t entirely trust her senses at the moment.

“Are you just saying that?” Annabeth asked, suspiciously, “Because that’s the sort of thing you would lie about.”

She had sort of expected him to sigh in annoyance, but to her surprise he smiled instead.

“I’m not lying, I swear.”

“But you don’t like other drunk people,” Annabeth insisted. For some reason the two ideas could not coexist in her mind.

“I don’t like drunk strangers,” he corrected, “You’re not a stranger.”

“Well, duh,” Annabeth said, which made him laugh. She hadn’t meant to, but she liked hearing him laugh, so she would accept it anyways.

“But doesn’t it— I don’t know, bring up bad memories, for you?” she asked, cautiously, “I don’t wanna do that. I don’t even really like being drunk.”

He just shook his head.

“If it did, I would tell you. But it doesn’t, I swear.”

Annabeth frowned. It was probably just her stupid wine brain, but she couldn’t quite connect the dots between all the points he was making.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because,” he said, somehow still smiling, “You’re you.”

“That’s a lame answer.” Annabeth said.

“It’s true,” he said, in that stupid earnest honest voice of his, “I mean, maybe if you started throwing beer cans at my head when you got tipsy it’d be different, but you’re the opposite of aggressive when you’re drunk. You actually get really cuddly, it's kind of cute.”

Annabeth knew he was trying to comfort her, but she also knew that Gabe had done a lot worse than throw beer cans at him. She felt a surge of anger on his behalf, but more powerfully a wave of sadness looking at his upbeat expression. It was so supremely unfair that she wanted to cry, but she just hugged him instead. She was probably proving his point about being cuddly, but she didn’t even care.

“I’m so glad your mom made him into a statue,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Me too,” Percy said, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“I love you so much,” Annabeth said, because she really, really did. Like so much. An embarrassing amount, if she were capable of feeling embarrassed about anything having to do with Percy Jackson, which she was pretty sure was impossible.

“I love you too,” he said, kissing the top of her head to prove it.

“Piper said I get boyfriend clingy when I’m drunk,” Annabeth admitted. He laughed, his chest vibrating beneath her.

“She might be right about that.”

“She’s usually right about things,” Annabeth said, without thinking. Then—

“Don’t tell her I said that.”

He laughed again, but it was quieter. She felt it more than she heard it this time.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he promised.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Annabeth said, because she really did feel bad about that, even beyond all the other stuff, “I should have paid more attention to what I was doing.”

She felt him shrug underneath her.

“Stuff happens, it's not a big deal,” Percy said easily, “We’ll just sleep in tomorrow. Speaking of, we should probably go inside.”

As soon as he said ‘go inside’ Annabeth’s brain suddenly registered that she was exhausted. It was late, her head was swimming, and his chest had been very warm and very comfortable. She’d fallen half asleep without even realizing it.

“Inside sounds good,” Annabeth agreed, yawning.

“C’mon, I’ll carry you the rest of the way,” Percy said, finally pulling away, brushing a few stray curls out of her eyes.

Maybe if she had been sober she would have protested. As it was she was pretty happy to climb on his back and rest her head on his shoulder. He looped his arms under her legs and lifted her up easily. Gods, he was stupidly strong. She should appreciate that more.

“I love you,” she mumbled one last time into his shoulder. Whether he’d heard or responded was a mystery to her, because she was asleep before he finished climbing the stairs.

#reposting this with a preview this time bc i learned my lesson lol #it's let Annabeth get messy hours #percabeth #percabeth fic #percabeth fluff #percabeth oneshot #percabeth angst #pjo #pjo fic #pjo fanfic #pjo fanfiction #hoo #hoo fic #hoo fanfic #Annabeth chase #Percy Jackson

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maastrash · 3 years

Note

Person A and Person B are friends and neither of them have a date for Valentine’s Day, so they decide to order takeout of some kind and watch a movie together. At some point, hidden feelings are revealed. umm elorcan, obvi, because i am nothing if not predictable 🤪

isa... babe... i swear i actually did start writing this around Valentine's day... but... i am CLEARLY a mess.... please accept my VERY late elorcan present 😳

Valentine's Day Confessions

a/n: surprise i am alive ;)

Elide cursed as she grabbed the steaming hot popcorn bag from the microwave. The decadent buttery scent filled her cozy apartment as she poured it into her favorite mixing bowl. She was about to pour in the m&m’s when she remembered who exactly was joining her tonight - Lorcan. And her friend was not a fan of chocolate. If you asked her, the man simply had no taste.

It was Valentine’s Day and the pair had decided to have a singles awareness celebration. Since their entire friend group was filled with couples they were each other’s only source of company on this dreaded day. Truthfully, Elide despised Valentine’s day. Seeing countless couple posts on Instagram and stupid lovey-dovey shit everywhere only made her more bitter. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in a long time - too long. If she was being honest, she had always thought Lorcan would make a move on her one day. Though at this point, it had been years of banter and flirting with absolutely nothing else, so she had pretty much lost all hope. She would just have to accept that she would forever be in the friend zone, but of course, that was easier said than done.

She settled into the couch with her favorite stuffed animal when the doorbell rang. Lorcan, she assumed.

“It’s open,” she called.

“Elide, I could have been a killer,” Lorcan chastised as he took off his leather jacket and shoes at the front.”

“What killer rings the doorbell?” she shot back.

“Ok fair point,” he said, quickly settling down next to her.

“What do you wanna watch?” she asked, turning to Netflix.

Lorcan shrugged, “Your house your rules El.”

“Lorcan,” she grumbled. “You know I’m too indecisive for this.”

He had the audacity to laugh at her misery, “I know, but it’s funny watching you struggle.”

“I already know no romance movies. I’ve already seen enough lovey Snapchat stories to last a lifetime.”

“Agreed. Did you see all the shit Rowan and Aelin have been posting?” Lorcan asked with a laugh.

Elide laughed too. “Can’t be worse than Lysandra and Aedion.”

Maybe they were just cynical because they were both single, but at the moment Elide didn’t care. It was fun to joke around with Lorcan.

“Let’s watch an action movie then,” Lorcan suggested.

“John wick?” Elide asked, already clicking play.

Lorcan smiled, “Sounds like a plan.”

The movie had barely begun before Lorcan was shifting his massive frame to lay down, placing his head on Elide’s lap.

"Lorcan," she groaned. “You’re heavy as fuck.”

He mockingly gasped, “I’ll have you know I’m on a diet Elide Lochan.”

“It’s your absurd height, stupid,” she whacked him, but he was laughing the whole time.

“You’re warm,” Lorcan whined, sounding much like the five-year-olds that Elide taught every day.

“I have blankets right over there,” she said, gesturing to the basket overflowing with various throws.

Lorcan only stretched his legs out and adjusted himself on her lap. “If you don’t get up I’m gonna sit over there,” she said motioning to the new armchair she recently bought.

“When did you get that?” he asked, finally speaking.

“A few days ago because you literally take up the whole couch when we hang out.” She actually got it for decoration, but bantering with Lorcan was entertaining.

“You’re dramatic Lochan.”

“I’m dramatic?” Elide asked, as she stood. “I’ll show you dramatic.”

She walked to the armchair and plopped down crossing her arms and legs.

She was about to add another dramatic remark, but before she could she felt the chair give way. Suddenly, she was on the floor.

“Ouch,” she mumbled, once she registered the pain she felt on her ass.

“Elide, are you okay?” Lorcan asked, making his way over.

“Yeah I’m fine,” she muttered. “But I am never buying Ikea furniture again.”

In all honesty, it was probably her faulty building skills, but she was not going to admit that at the moment.

She tried to stand but pain shot up her ankle. She had landed on it weirdly, due to her dramatic crossed leg position.

“Wait for me Lochan,” Lorcan said as he carefully picked her up bridal style from the ruins of what once was her armchair.

“I could’ve walked,” she said softly against his chest.

That made Lorcan chuckle. “You were barely standing, El. You would have hobbled at best,” he said gently, placing her on the couch. "Let me get some ice. Your ankle already looks pretty swollen."

“I think it's just aggravated. Old wound,” she tried to say it with a smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

Lorcan’s eyes softened in understanding. “Ice won’t hurt though.”

Elide nodded and Lorcan took to the kitchen freezer in search of ice. He returned moments later with a bag of frozen peas wrapped haphazardly in a paper towel. He helped situate her ankle on a pillow so it was elevated and gingerly placed the bag on top.

“Shit that’s cold,” Elide couldn’t help but hiss.

Lorcan laughed softly and Elide smiled. Lorcan’s laugh was one of her favorite sounds. It was rare to see him smile and laugh openly when they were with their other friends, but when it was just them she saw it more often. She liked to think that it was because he was comfortable enough with her to show the real Lorcan.

“That’s the point, Lochan.”

“Get us some drinks, Salveterre,” she chuckled. “There is no better medicine than alcohol.”

“Whatever you say, boss,”

“I have a bottle of wine on the top shelf,” Elide called when she heard Lorcan rustling around.

“Got it,” Lorcan said, returning with a cup of wine. A cup.

“I was too lazy to find the glass,” he said in response to the look she gave him.

Elide stuck her tongue out at him before accepting the cup. “Let’s drink every time Keanu Reeves shoots someone,” she suggested.

“Elide, I think you would throw up if we did that.”

Elide rolled her eyes, “I’m not as much of a lightweight as I was in college, Lorcan.”

He raised a brow at her statement. “We’ll see about that."

As he expected, it had barely been 20 minutes, and Elide was already a giggling mess.

It only took 10 more for her head to fall on Lorcan’s shoulder.

And after another 10 minutes, Elide was onto the honesty.

She had hung out with Lorcan one on one many times, but nothing as intimate as a movie night on Valentine’s day where they were practically cuddling.

“Ok Salveterre truth or dare,” Elide slurred, turning to look at him.

“Elide the movie isn’t over yet,” he said pointing to the screen.

Elide gave him a look and paused the movie, “I’m too drunk to pay attention, plus we’ve watched this movie like five times,”

“Fine,” He laughed, giving in, “I say dare.”

“I dare you,” she said, poking him in the chest, “To kiss me.”

Lorcan almost spit out his wine. “Elide, you are way too drunk to be saying things like that.”

“I’m serious,” she said, setting her wine cup down for emphasis.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you, but you clearly only want to be friends.”

“Elide -”

“I know I’m not your type,” she said, her eyes dropping to the floor. “It’s fine, we can forget about this and blame it on the alcohol. It doesn’t have to be weird between us.”

She felt his hands on her chin, tilting it so they made eye contact.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you too. Elide Lochan, you are smart, kind, and pretty much out of my league in every single way. ”

She felt her cheeks flush at his admission. “Please just kiss me already, Salvettere.”

Without another word, his lips were on hers. Soft and sweet, a perfect first kiss, but she wanted more. She kissed him harder and opened her mouth. He took the hint, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. He pulled her closer, her heart was beating wildly against his.

Elide shifted so she was straddling his lap. She grinded against him and let herself get lost in the way he felt. The way he made her feel.

Lorcan shifted slightly as if he was going to lay her down. It would have been perfect, but Elide’s ankle turned too quick and she grimaced, breaking the kiss for a moment, but that’s all it took for Lorcan to pull back.

“Shit. Sorry, Lochan. I forgot about your ankle.”

“No I’m fine,” she panted breathlessly, trying to pull him back in.

“Maybe we should stop for tonight,” he said, brushing the hair from her eyes.

Elide grumbled, “stupid cock blocking ankle.”

Lorcan laughed again. “I can get you set up in your bed before I head out.”

Elide couldn’t help the pout, “Stay please?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his chest.

He smiled softly. “Anything for you, El.”

They readjusted on the couch so they were facing each other, this time cautious of Elide’s ankle. Lorcan pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and Elide tucked herself closer to his side. It wasn’t long before both of them became drowsy thanks to the alcohol and their heartfelt confessions.

And as Elide began drifting off to sleep in Lorcan’s arms, she knew this is how she wanted to spend every night for the rest of her life.

Tags: @illyriangarbage // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @girlnovels // @julesherondalex // @ifangirlninja // @dreamerforever-5 // @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @rhysanoodle // @jemma-nessian-and-elriel // @books-and-words-addict-blog // @nightinshadow // @wolffrising // @the-regal-warrior // @dreamingofalba // @abillionlittlepieces // @alitzeldiaz // @kylizzles // @queenmaas // @illyrian-bookworm // @aspillofstars // @b00kworm // @tswaney17 // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn // // @perseusannabeth // @sweetlyvillainous // @awesomelena555 // @notyournymphetish // @ladywitchling // @aesthetics-11 // @sjmships // @iammissstark // @illyrianwitchling13 // @moondancer-204 // @sjm-things // @foolsinlovex // @sayosdreams // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour // @stardelia // @julemmaes // @thewayshedreamed // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @keshavomit // @superspiritfestival // @wannawriteyouabook // @verryberriess // @courtofjurdan // @bookstantrash // @sannelovesreading // @ahappyhistorianreader // @cass-nes // @my-fan-side // @junsuichow // @sleeping-and-books // @yumna402 // @lordof-bloodshed // @emcarstairs578 // @gisellefigue08 // @maybekindasortaace // @starborn-faerie-queen // @empire-of-wildfire // @loveofbooksandwine // @sanakapoor // @silentquartz // @a-omgnaomithings-love // @aimee1602 // @jlinez // @creamcheesechicken // @steamedlattes // @sahsahprova // @elriel4life //

#elorcan #car answers #nalgenewhore #elorcan fic

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bigbrainblue · 3 years

Text

19th birthday

It was late.

you don’t know how late, but late enough that you hadn’t heard a car pass in well over 20 minutes, the only light around was from the distance street lamps and the reflection of the moon on the ocean that stood before you. the only sound coming from the crickets in the hills, occasional wave crashing, and your own shallow breath.

currently you were sat on a beach. alone.

it was your birthday, you had come to the beach from your birthday party. a party to celebrate the day you were born 19 years ago.

the party was fine, but there sure as hell were a lot of people, way more than you would have liked

you knew people there, sure, but a good portion of the party was people you've never even heard of, just coming for a party and the booze.

you had arrived with your friends, a lot of them actually, you had just managed to lose them all one by one slowly as the night grew longer and as your vison started to blur.

the people you came with were your friends, Niki, will, toby, tom, clay, George, nick, and Alex.

you were having fun, drinking, walking around, socializing. but soon it became too much.

the drinking had made you obsess over every thought that came into your head.

you decided to take a break, have some fresh air, and now here you are. on a beach. alone. at night.

one of the thoughts your brain wouldn’t let go was about Alex, the boy you’ve known since junior year of Highschool. you two met when you decided to do a foreign exchange year in Mexico. it just so happened to be that the parents that decided to host you for a school year also were the parents of a teenage boy the same age as you, with straight black hair that stuck to the back of his neck and with freckles scattered around his face. over the next 9 months you guys became best friends, never leaving each others sides.

you didn't know it then, but you had fallen in love with this boy, this amazing beautiful smart caring boy.

but eventually you had to go home, but you guys never stopped talking.

Alex eventually started posting videos on YouTube, and not long after, streaming on twitch as well.

you watched him gain fame as you supported him at the sidelines, cheering him along the way.

at some point he convinced you to do it too. you spent long nights on calls with him, helping you set up your streams and giving you ideas for new YouTube videos.

with the help of Alex, you started to gain fame too, even passing him at one point.

through streaming and YouTube, you made so many friends, and yet none of them compared to Alex.

speaking of Alex, you wondered what he was doing, probably having the time of his life, drinking an hooking up with girls a bajillion times hotter than you

*A/N HI OK IM SORRY IF THAT PART SOUNDED MEAN I PROMISE IT ADDS TO THE STORY OK BYE*

you laughed quietly at yourself thinking about how stupid it was to think that you could pull a guy like Alex.

just then you heard it.

a familiar voice from behind you, “what’s so funny?”

you looked back startled and confused

‘Alex? what are you doing out here?”

“well y/n I could ask the same thing to you, its your party, i noticed you were gone, so I went looking for you. as simple as that”

“i got overwhelmed in there, I'm sorry. i just needed some fresh air”

“ its ok, don't apologize for something you cant control. can I sit?”

“nope” you said sarcastically, hoping he would get the joke

“too bad!” he said, plopping himself right next to you in the sand

you giggled at his humor

neither of you said anything, it wasn't awkward silence, you two had known each other long enough that sometimes, it was nice to just enjoy the company of the other person beside you in silence.

and yet, suddenly Alex said something.

“have you been crying? there's dried tear streaks along the sides of your face”

you turned your head towards his and whipped the sides of you face, seeing that he was already looking at you, studying you and your facial expression.

“i guess. if I did, I didn't notice.”

“how did you not notice yourself crying? that sounds like something very noticeable” he said, putting an emphasis on the very,

you laughed, probably harder than you should have.

he smiled, happy to see you happy

“do you wanna talk about it? why you were crying?”

“no, well, not here at least-” you said gesturing your hands at the ocean

“plus, there's sand getting in my ass” you added on to your previous sentence

Alex laughed and agreed, standing up and brushing off hi pants, and then handing out a hand for you to grab as he pulled you up.

you also brushed yourself off, and you weren't lying, cause man was there a lot of sand in your ass.

he started walking away from you and as you caught up with him you asked,

“where are we going?”

“you’ll see, its a great place, I promise you will love it”

you followed Alex to his car as he opened the passenger side door for you.

“how romantic” you commented as you climbed into his car. poking fun at him

as he got into the car he plugged his phone into the aux cord, playing a song you had heard a couple times, but would have never expected for Alex to listen to it, it just didn't seem like the type of music he would like.

he set his phone down face up as the screen flashed up at you as he put the car into gear and pulled out into the street

you saw the title of the song he was playing, “Falling For U” by Peachy ft Mxmtoon, and his wallpaper, a photo of you two from junior year. both standing next to each other awkwardly as his mom made you guys take a photo together on the first day you got there. you wondered how long it had been his wallpaper for.

you laughed and asked him about his wallpaper

“i mean you gotta admit, we look extremely sexy in that photo. especially me”

this comment from Alex made you break out laughing, even harder than before, as he started to hum along with the lyrics of the song. joined with him actually saying a line out loud every once in a while

it was a peaceful drive, Alex played more lofi songs as you stared out the widow.

eventually he pulled the car into an empty parking lot of a small gas station

“is this the place?” you questioned

“nope, just a pit stop.” he said

you both went inside, grabbing snacks and drinks and piling them into the back of the car. Alex making you wait to open them until you two got to your final destination

eventually, the car rolled into a another small empty parking lot, except this one was made of dirt and was a lot higher up.

Alex had pulled the car to the edge of the parking lot, as you finally got to see why he brought you here,

you looked through the windshield to find a view of the entire city.

you gasped in awe as you looked towards Alex, who, again, was already looking at you.

this time he wasn't studying you, he was admiring you.

you blushed, but pushed it off.

you and him both got out of the car so you guys could grab the snacks and the blankets he had in the back of his car.

he hopped onto the hood of his car and you joined him.

you starred into the sky full of stars above you.

you gasped as you pointed out a shooting star passing over head

“what did you wish for, Alex?”

“i cant tell you or else it wont come true”

“well then couldn't you wish the opposite of what you want to come true and then tell someone so the opposite comes true?”

“you're so stupid-” he said jokingly as he laughed.

“so, do you want to talk about why you were crying earlier, or is this still not the right spot” Alex chuckled at his own joke

“yes but, I have a question first”

Alex hummed in response, curious of what the question could be

“do you believe in love at first sight?”

you could feel his gaze on you, but you didn't divert your eyes from the stars above.

“do you remember the first time that we met? at the airport when my mom forced us to hug and take that god awful photo together, and when we ended up playing tictactoe in the car for an hour while we drove to my house?”

“yes? of course i do, that was simultaneously the worst and best day of my life. but that doesn't answer my question dumbass” you said, still not giving into his gaze onto side of your head.

“I think I just did, did I not?”

it finally clicked, him looking for you at the party, the song in the car, the story

you turned your head to meet his gaze, finally giving in

he sat up and dramatically grabbed his chest, pretending to have been stabbed in the heart, enacting a theatrical performance

“y/n m/n l/m, i am dying, and you must know, that I am in LOVE with you!” he dramatically gasped and fall back down., pretending to be dead.

you played along as you gasped and put the pack of your hand on your forehead as you spoke

“oh my dear Alex, I love you too, and now you will never get to know how much i loved you” you faked sobbed onto his chest

“maybe a true loves kiss will help save him” he whispered, making the scene even funnier and causing both of you to bust out laughing

“ah yes, the only way to save my prince, a true loves KISS!” you said before coming down and kissing Alex on the lips.

he sat up with a loud gasp

“I am alive! a kiss of true love saved me!” you giggled beside him as you watched him play out his Oscar-winning performance

“may I kiss you again m’lady? for saving my life of course.” he questioned

“of course, you can kiss me anytime m’lady” you said back, pulling him into a deeper kiss

he pulled way first before speaking

“WAIT DID YOU JUST CALL ME M’LADY?

#quackity #y/n #x y/n #mcyt #dsmp #alex quackity #quackity fluff #quackity x y/n #quackity x you #quackity x reader #quackity x reader fluff #i dont know what other tags to put

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nanatsumu · 3 years

Text

SEVEN DAYS

pairing: akaashi keiji x f!reader

genre: tooth rotting fluff

synopsis: despite the chaos in your busy week, akaashi is always there to remind you that no matter what the inconvenience, he’ll always be there by your side seven days a week one way or another.

YOU KNOW IT’S MORNING when the golden rays of sunshine filters through the blinds of your shared bedroom with akaashi and you can’t help but mutter a small ‘5 more minutes’ when you feel a hand try and shake your body awake.

“babe it’s 7:20 right now,” he says with a deep chuckle as he rubs his eyes. “we both know that if you fall back asleep now then you’re never gonna wake up again.”

you peek your head out from under the blanket and when you see your boyfriend’s bed head, (that makes him look even more adorable than he already does and you mentally curse him for being able to work a bed head) you find it difficult to shoot back a snarky remark to his comment— and it is proven especially difficult when he’s looking at you with the most love struck expression on his face.

“fine! you win!” you sigh before sitting up, letting the blanket fall down to your lap.

akaashi extends his hand out to fix the strap of your pajama top when he notices that it slipped off your shoulder: to which you thank him by placing a small kiss onto his jawline, causing his lips to curve into a smile.

his hand cups your cheek, which startles you for a moment, but then he gently guides your face closer to his so that he can pull you in for a sensual kiss that leaves your mind feeling fuzzy.

when you two finally pull away and you’re able to recollect your thoughts, a lopsided grin makes its way onto your face and akaashi playfully rolls his eyes as he can practically feel the words that are about to leave your lips in his bones.

“ew morning breath,” you cackle and even though you think that it’s the most ugliest laugh in the world, akaashi thinks that it’s one of his favorite things to hear because it’s your most genuine form of laughter. “you must reaaally be in love with me!”

“i am really in love with you y/n.” he says, deciding to give into your ego for just one day.

“that’s good,” your eyes crinkle as you give him a soft smile. “because i’m really in love with you too.”

“...but don’t think that your love confession is gonna land you an extra 5 minutes of sleep.”

“way to kill the mood keiji!” you pout.

“c’mon let’s go freshen up together.” he says while ushering you out of bed and into the bathroom.

“no i’m just saying, if you’re gonna bitch about my work being ‘inadequate’ then you should really be worrying about yourself more than other people cause boy do i have some news for you.” you complained as you lathered your hair in shampoo before massaging it into your scalp.

“your co worker... sounds like... a real handful.” akaashi says in between breaks while he’s brushing his teeth.

“that’s what i’m saying— oh! can you pass me my face wash keiji?”

you hear a bit of shuffling before akaashi sticks his arm into the shower from behind the curtain with a bottle in his hand.

“babe...” you push his hand back out. “that’s moisturizer.”

“oh my bad.” he lets out a small ‘oops’ before going back to the cabinet above your sink and maneuvering around your other numerous skincare products, reading all the labels to make sure he grabs the facial wash this time and hands you it.

“thanks!” you’re about to grab the face wash from his hand when an idea suddenly pops into your head.

you quickly twist the shower knob so that the water goes from hot to cold before grabbing his hand, along with your face wash which was still in his hand as well, and pulling it under the water coming from the shower head.

akaashi lets out a shriek as the water practically hits his entire arm while you’re laughing your ass off with your hair in a makeshift bun using the shampoo that was still in your hair.

“y/n!” he yanks his arm out of your grasp and you peek out into the outside world from behind the shower curtain, where you can see akaashi holding his arm to his chest on the other side of the bathroom.

“you’re being such a baby keiji!” you giggle.

“ha ha very funny, you better be careful because who knows,” his lips curl into a mischievous smirk. “after your shower tonight you may or may not have hair afterwards.”

“you wouldn’t!” you gasp dramatically. “don’t nair me, please! i’m sorry!”

you’re gripping onto the shower curtain, spewing out apology after apology while akaashi stands there amused with how you can go from a devious little thing to an apology spitting machine within a just a few seconds.

“i’ll forgive you, but only because i’m a much more mature person than you.” he teases.

“yeah right! remember when i forgot to record your favorite tv show that one time and then you ate all of my snacks the following week?” you try defending yourself as you go back to finish washing your hair.

“no way, that never happened.” he lies straight through his teeth— which you do not appreciate.

“yes it did! i even have the video of you being all whiny to prove my point and if you don’t admit to your actions then i’ll send it to the group chat with bokuto, kuroo, and tsukishima!”

“fine it did happen! just don’t send it to them or else i’ll never hear the end of it,” he puts his hands up in mock surrender before spitting out the rest of the toothpaste in his mouth into the sink and rinsing it out. “i’m trying to keep the cool and aloof persona going you know?”

you snort.

“just imagine when they find out that akaashi keiji isn’t actually the cool guy type they think he is but instead a dorky sap who’s in love with l/n y/n!”

“but i don’t blame you,” you add. “who wouldn’t be in love with me?”

“i sure hope no one is because you’re my girlfriend.” he scoffs.

“ooo possessive, i like that look on you keiji.” your laughter fills the entire bathroom.

“yeah? less talking more washing y/n, it’s 7:55 now.” he reminds you.

“oh shit! why didn’t you tell me before!?” you cry out as you frantically wash out the rest of the shampoo in your hair and rub in some conditioner into the ends of your hair before completely rinsing out the rest of the product in your hair.

“maybe if you weren’t so busy planning to prank me then you would’ve been out of the shower 5 minutes ago.”

“i said i’m sorry!” you wring out all the water in your hair before grabbing a towel to wrap around your entire body and then running into your bedroom to quickly get dressed.

after you slip into some jeans and a loose button up, you sit down in front of your vanity to begin putting on some makeup— but remembering to keep it light enough so that it doesn’t feel heavy over the course of the long day you’re going to have at work.

as you’re about to reach for your concealer, you can see akaashi pop up from behind you in the mirror and you immediately take notice of the blow dryer in his hands.

“want some help? your hair is still wet and i don’t think you want to show up to work with it wet.” he asks as he saunters up to the electrical outlet next to the vanity.

“yes please keiji, you’re a life saver.” you press a chaste kiss onto his cheek before turning around and getting to work on your face.

as akaashi plugs in the blow dryer and begins to dry your hair for you, he makes sure not to ruffle it too much in fear of messing up your makeup and having you re-do it, resulting in you being late for work.

“your fingers feel really nice,” you say out of the blue and just as he’s about to make a sexual comment, you’re quick to interrupt him by adding along to your previous statement. “not in that way idiot, it’s just... i feel like i wanna fall asleep or something.”

“i think that’s the last thing we both want happening.” he jokes which prompts you both to laugh at the same time.

“mhm, i’m just really glad to have you here with me though,” you grin and he catches it when he looks at you through the mirror. “like what boyfriend is willing to blow dry their girlfriend’s hair for them when they’re running late for work?”

“i’m sure there are plenty of other good guys out there.”

“but good thing i have the one and only akaashi keiji all to myself.” you smile sheepishly.

“oh and i’m the sap in the relationship? i’m starting to think you’re the real sap here.”

“as if! says the guy who practically spews out love confessions for his girlfriend while he’s completely wasted after 2 bottles of beer.” you snicker.

instead of trying to start a banter with you, he decides to focus at the task at hand and finishes drying your hair before turning the blow dryer off and then proceeding to grab a brush and brush your hair out in order to get rid of the knots he created while he was drying it.

"thanks babe!" you give him another kiss, this time on his lips, after he announces that he was finished with your hair.

you spray a bit of perfume on yourself, grab your purse and then slip on a pair of shoes when you get to the front door.

"wait, y/n!" you see akaashi run out of your bedroom and make his way over to you before pulling you in for a hug. “stay safe and call me when you’re done with work alright?”

“yes i will, and ramen tonight? i’ve been craving some and i’ll probably stop by the grocery store today after work so i can pick up some other stuff.” you pull away a bit so that you can look up at his face but still have your arms wrapped around his mid section.

“sounds good, do you want to just come home first and we can just go together?” he starts to sway your bodies back and forth.

“and you can pay for us? deal!” you give the male one last kiss on his lips before slipping away, not giving him the chance to protest (not that he was going to anyways, he would never let you pay for anything while you were in his presence.)

“i love you, have a nice day at work!” was the last thing he heard before you completely shut the door on him.

+ a/n: hey y’all so i’m currently in a writers block for rent a boyfriend and so what better way to cure that than to write an akaashi fluff? this idea has been stuck in my head for the past week and i’m just in love with the idea of boyfriend!akaashi blow drying your hair while you’re running late to work T^T

#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq x you #hq x y/n #akaashi x reader #akaashi fluff #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x you #akaashi keiji #volleyball #sports anime #anime #anime fanfic

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ohmysparkle · 3 years

Text

Spellbound intro III

🌙 Pairing: Hyunjin (Stray Kids) x Reader

🌙 Genre: Dark Fantasy AU, Mystery, smut.

🌙 Teaser Length: 3K

🌙 Warnings: Blood, bodily injury, cannibalism in this chapter. For the series overall, smut, gore, witchcraft, religious themes.

🌙✨Tag List: @xviternity @straykisz @97lovestay (unable to tag)

✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ *✧･ﾟ. ✨ . *: ･ﾟ 🌙 * ･ﾟ✧ * : ･ﾟ✧. ✨･ﾟ.*.✧

It’s smouldering hot, and the once neatly dressed man that stands on the corner of the street has now soiled his white clothes with sweat. The beads shimmer on his dark skin, and he rubs at his brows, to remove the tension as well as to wipe the perspiration before it falls to his eyes.

He’s had enough. If the man he waits for doesn't come to him, then he shall go to look.

The first person to ask is only a few steps away. He stomps past his own - empty - storefront and enters the following shop, the butcher’s shop precisely.

“Eustace!” The sweaty man calls, awaiting for a dimwit in his 20’s with a curly head of hair to appear. The front stall is empty, but somewhere in the back he hears a clang before his call is answered.

“Ji - Jiggly? What can I help you with today?” Eustace replies in confusion.

“Your brother is late.” Says the man, rather matter-of-factly.

“Hmm.” Eustace thinks, for longer than necessary, “He should have been by yours a while ago.”

“Yes - I know that, which is why I’ve come here to tell you he’s late. It’s almost ten o'clock and I’ve yet to finish the filling for the meat pies - they wont be done in time for lunch unless Emerson shows up now.”

“Well…” Eustace thinks. The impatient man pauses at the worrying thought that he, the older of the two brothers, is somehow to inherit the family business. It’s not a match for his mind.

“Eustace - could you call your father to figure out how much longer the delivery will take?”

“Oh, dad’s not at the other shop. Emerson was only going in today to pick up the day’s delivery orders.”

“So you don’t know where he is?”

“I really have no idea.”

“Ah - goodness Eustace, does that not bother you in the least?”

The man storms out from the butcher's place, mumbling and grunting to himself, making his way to the corner once more to see if Emerson has made an appearance. He looks over the bend, down a block to where the road runs along the shore of the lake - nothing.

It’s getting late, and he’s sure his clientele would not appreciate the absence of his meat pies.

The lake, glistening in that cool morning sun…

Just how desperate was he to find Emerson?

“Why do they talk to you like that?” Jiggly asks you, clothed in your usual black, but in thinner fabrics to allow for the breeze to cool you on that one summer day.

“Like what?” You ask him.

“Well - they actually talk for starters. And they’re kinda nice, don’t look like they’ll bite you.” He says, watching in awe as you gently take the hand of each of the ladies in the water as a greeting.

“Jiggly… look. Mermaids, sirens, think of them as regular leg people. Do you walk up to a person on the street and gawk? No. Do you slowly socialize until they are acquainted with you? Yes. Just come down and make small talk from time to time and they’ll get along with you just fine.”

“But don’t they eat people?!”

“Well… they could, but I brought them apples so I guess they’re not really hungry now.”

“Apples? That’s all it took?” He looks at the three wet ladies, sitting upon the small embankment that piled onto the paved sidewalk. “Just apples?”

“Well… fruit in general they tend to like. I always start with apples, nobody has dietary issues with apples. Sometimes I make them some food too.” One of the ladies, with long hair that winds and circles around her body covering her figure along with some small white garments, strokes your calf as if she were petting a cat. It all seemed so bizarre, the water women were always so angry, hissing and growling, baring sharp teeth and nails.

“They’re fond of physical contact once they trust you.” You explain, taking a bite of one of your spare apples. Another lady, a younger, girlish one, pokes at your thigh as you are about to eat more. You roll your eyes and relinquish the apple to her.

“I’m not taking chances.”

“You underestimate how helpful they are. They can go from one side of the lake in a minute, they share everything they hear with one another, they travel the oceans. If you’re on their good side, they might just let you submit some mermail to them.

“Mermail?” Jiggly is in awe, it’s like the two of you were in two different realities with you always saying things that stunned him so.

“Yeah, mer-mail… mermail? Get it? Like, put a message in a bottle and they’ll ship it to wherever you need so long as it's close to a body of water?” You elaborate.

“Yeah, yeah - I know what it is. I just didn’t think it was… real.”

“Ha!” You snort. You turn around to the water ladies, saying something in an older language he does not recognize - they seem to understand it though, and laugh along with you.

“Jiggly… mermail is real.” You deadpan. “It’s not like… a myth or anything.”

“Mail?”

“Yes… well, packages, letters, messages… ”

“What do you pay them with? I thought the mermaids didn’t use money.”

“Eh, they sometimes do. But all it’ll cost you is kindness, or maybe a little favor. They’ll do plenty of little favors if you just give them a little kindness in return. Real nice sense of community they’ve got…”

Kindness…

He had that. What he lacked for this specific task was confidence.

But there they are, just a couple of them. Young girls, in their early teens, wearing some dry cloth sheets over their bodies to break the ever chilling wind, just enjoying the morning sun as they etched pebbles with tools, most likely to make some jewelry, as they sat on the edge of the footpath with their feet hanging over the surface of the lake.

“Ehem… hello?” The man cautiously says, his voice nearly cracking due to the uncertainty. He is at a loss of words, just momentarily, when they return a gaze with their bulbous, unnaturally blue eyes. The irises nearly gone, it was like staring into water itself.

“Hello?” He says, closer this time.

“Hssss.” one of them hisses at him, like a cat, baring her small sharp teeth.

The other one pats her shoulder to silence her, and raises her hand to beckon the man over.

He approaches fearfully.

“Hi.” The calmer girl says, staying put. Her voice is quiet and hoarse, almost whisper-like, just like all the other women who lived in the waters. You had once explained it to him, it’s because they were sometimes unused to speaking above water, and they often had accents of old languages, now that newer ones weren’t quite common below.

“I’m Jiggy - the baker.” He says trying to be as personable as possible. “You might remember my friend… Dr. Nemo.”

The girl nods politely. Good.

“She told me you might be able to do me a little favor. If you want I can make you anything for lunch in return.” He was trying to smile, in a friendly neighborly way, not in a creepy man in his thirties way.

“Lunch?” The polite fish girl asks.

“Yes!” He sings, almost like some character from a children's program.

“Fish?”

“No, I don’t carry fish.” Did he ruin it? Did they only eat fish?

“Pork? Bacon.” She says again.

“Yeesss…” He does his best friendly-dinosaur impression.

“Yes. Bacon.” She looks at the girl that had hissed, and she nods in return after a brief moment of silent conversation. “What… do you need?”

“Well… you might know the man that drives the meat truck.”

“Stupid man?” The polite girl says in her funny voice.

“Yeeesss… the stupid man.” Clever girl. “Could you ask around and find out where he is? He’s late and I need him to bring me my cuts of meat.”

“Where? Where do we look?” It was a good question… Emerson only delivers between two neighborhoods.

“Eastbend by the Shore!” He points to the area further up along this same side of the lake. Over there the houses are smaller, climbing up the sloping hills. It's cooler from all the trees, and that is where the slaughterhouse of Edwin & Sons lies - and where Emerson should be stalling.

“Right over there!” Jiggly points, nearly seeing the white roof of the taller building among the quaint brick houses. “Right over - AHH!” Something in his hand pinches every bit of his attention.

Chomp!

He looks down to the pinching and blunt pain on his hand - it was the hissing girl biting him! Latched on to one of his fat fingers with her sharp teeth - the audacity!

He tries to pull his hand away, and it's like he can hear it, a rip. The girl's pale, veiny face is suddenly painted by a splatter of blood that she’s made the flesh release, gushing from his index finger, an arc of red liquid painting a line from her mouth to her forehead. Her furious blue eyes, still trained on his hand, almost satisfied at the outpour.

“Aaaaaaaaahh!” He shrieks, a long piercing howl.

The polite girl begins to scold the other, Jiggly can hardly comprehend, but when she smacks her companion across the head it does not make the hold of her jaw relent. It only makes his skin drag further from his bone.

If he moves back she’ll rip it off, if he pulls closer she might latch her bite further up. He is paralized, his entire body feels pins and needles from the panic, but it begins and ends with his one, bitten finger.

Smack! The polite girl smacks the other right across the forehead, one last time and now the girl lets her jaw slack. The man holds his hand up, shrieks once more as he sees his bone beneath the torn and bleeding skin. Even against his dark fingers, the blood is so red and so bright, so so bright. No translucency at all, just a solid red, redder than anything he had seen before. But there, a peek of something pale within the digit - and he could feel it; the bone.

The girls bicker and argue.

“Fucking fishy!” He cries at her.

“Lunch!” The bloodied girl cries. She goes back to smacking her lips, picking at her teeth with her tongue as if there were flesh stuck between her teeth. There probably was.

“It - it’s the baker! Come help!” a man yells behind him, having been attracted by the screams. There is a clamor of feet approaching the scene.

Jiggly turns, men approach him from behind, the girls swat and slap at each other in front of him, his finger bleeds.

“Jiggly! What happened?” He recognizes the voice. It's the captain of the cadets from this side of the lake, a handsome man that seems to eat too many of his croissants for the size of his waist, one of his very best customers. But alas, here he is, running as he does daily, with all of the young recruits in training panting behind him as he stands there with barely a mist of a sweat on his face.

As he turns to face the handsome man, he can hear a growl from one of the girls behind him.

“My fi-finger.” He chokes out, an airy whimper making up his words. ”Hal… She bit my finger.” he says, pointing at her bloody face with his bloody hands.

The man is of the unflinching kind, bats his eyes as he pieces it all together, but he doesn’t react with any repulsion.

“Does anyone have a clean towel?” He yells at the cadets. Someone hands it to him and he expertly wraps Jiggly’s hand. “You all, keep going. I’m taking him to the doctor.”

“Doctor…” Jiggly ponders, too distracted by his bleeding finger.

“Are you feeling lightheaded?” Hal questions. “I’m taking you over to your friend, Dr. Nemo.”

It’s a few blocks of his dazed stumbling. He didn't notice what happened to the fish girls, or the cadets, or how long it took him to get there. All he knows is that suddenly he is at the steps of your clinic, the big dark blue door looking over him and Hal firmly holding his side..

And as if you sensed it, even before Hal could let go of the cloth he pressed to his hand to knock, you open the door. There, above them, in your usual dark and neat attire.

“What happened?” You inquire.

“Doc! Jiggly’s had an accident.” Hal explains.

You usher for him to come inside, Jiggly feels as if he levitates as the muscular, but gentle, man guides him up.

“Just sit him down somewhere.” You say absentmindedly, grabbing things from the many cabinets and shelves. “Caro! We have a patient.” You shout for your apprentice. The girl would usually come down sooner.

“Yes Miss Nemo!” She politely replies, eager to attend however she can. Until she sees who it is and lets out a gasp. “Jiggles!” She calls in awe, seeing his bloodstained clothes.

“What happened to him?” You ask Hal, seeing that Caro has now taken to applying pressure to Jiggly’s hand.

“I think one of the younger water women bit him…” He ponders. He stands a little too close to you. You can basically smell him, the sheen of perspiration… his dark red locks dampened and slicked back, the muscles in his neck and arms exposed so handsomely.

Focus!

“Siren or mermaid?” You ask.

“I think… mermaid.” Hal replies, unsure.

“Did she have the weird eyes?” You ask.

“Her face was covered in blood, I didn’t really notice if -”

“Yes!” Jiggly shouts from his seat at your small breakfast table. “Horrible eyes, horrible child.”

“Child?” you purse your lips, Caro even lets out a giggle. “How bad could she have bitten you?”

As you set the items on the table beside him, Caro slowly unwraps the bloody rag… and - it’s quite awful.

“Ha!” You laugh, a hearty laugh, Caro eventually joins in. “A child did this to you?!”

“She was feral and - uuaaahh!” He whines again. You had taken advantage of his distraction to pour antiseptic onto his wound, your apprentice dabs at it with some clean linens.

“Shouldn't we put him on one of the tables?” Hal quips.

“Eh, this seems pretty basic. Right Caro?” The girl doesn't reply, being hyper focused on her task, the bloody hand, the bloody rag, the bloody linen. “Caro, I said; this seems pretty basic, right?” you say more sternly.

She blinks back to reality, “Yes Miss, quite simple.”

“See? Just a few stitches and some healing goo and he’ll be good.” You tell Hal, placing a hand on his chest, quite firm and… toned, to push him back gently. You needed the space, he was too close for comfort, as usual.

“Miss… stitches or, do you think we could use the good stuff?” Caro suggests… ah yes, expensive magical healing ointments.

“Fine… just a little should be enough.” You conceded, after all he was the most popular baker on the lake, and you weren’t sure how happy the townsfolk would be with his being out of commission.

Hal once more, is upon you… it’s a bad habit of his that you’ve tried to quell. And he is never subtle, which you wouldn’t particularly mind if he weren’t so keen on doing so in public.

“You know, I’ve gotten a letter from my cousin.” He says, “She sends her regards, inquires about you.”

“Your cousin, the demon hunter?” Jiggly buds in, and for a moment, you wish to chastise Hal for his lack of prudence. “How does Doc know her? Isn’t she halfway around the world?”

He stutters, not knowing how to answer Jiggly’s question. How indeed does he explain to Jiggly that you are acquainted with his cousin, who is a local legend but has not returned to the area in quite a few years, that you know her despite never having been in town at the same time as you?

He regrets his insolence. How could he have said that so easily?

“I don't. We don't know each other at all.” you reply, with a special and strange tone.

“But he just said you did.” Jiggly argues.

“No he didn’t.” A little more charmingly.

“He didn’t?” Caro tenses as Jiggly resists, but she continues to treat his wound.

“He didn’t. He hasn’t mentioned anything about his cousin at all.” It takes a moment for your words to sink in, but slowly, they do.

“That’s right… Hal hasn’t said anything about that.”

“Precisely Jiggly, he hasn’t said anything at all.” You reply contently once you see him nod with a distant daze in his eyes. As soon as Jiggly’s attention is diverted by your apprentice, you look back to Hal.

“You lack prudence.” You sternly whisper, making sure Jiggly is unaware. “Leave - and make sure he gets home.”

“I - forgive me. It slipped, and I -”

“Don’t make any mention of it to him - ever again. Not to anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“You are the only person in this damn place that knows, and I guarantee you do not want to be responsible for it getting out.” You cut him off before he can respond. “Caro, are you done?”

“Yes Miss, just about!”

“Good. Jiggly, Hal will take you home. Let your hand rest for today but you should be fine tomorrow.”

Caro quickly ushers them out, and once the door is closed behind them, she turns to you.

“Do you think it worked?”

“Of course it did - do you doubt me?” You ask her, almost displeased.

“It's just… you haven’t done anything like that in a long time.”

“Girls like me - like us - don’t get rusty.” You remind her, finishing her sentence with a tap to the tip of her nose.

At the doorstep of your clinic Jiggly feels confused, almost dreamy, as if he only had the faintest impression of what had just occurred during this particular morning.

#hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #stray kids smut #hyunjin au #strange devotion skz collab

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adhd-disaster-willie · 3 years

Text

home is wherever you are tonight

summary: Alex and Willie are suffocating beneath their respective parental figures, so, barely 20 and scrambling to just breathe, they leave LA. And they also slow dance.

notes: this was gonna just be a like 800 word fic of them dancing but I have no self control so I ended up with this monstrosity. (also, maybe listen to apple pie by lizzy mcalpine while reading)

word count: 2,600

---

“I been runnin' 'round

Try'na find a place where I can breathe

But me oh my

I found you

Under an april sky

And you feel like

City life, apple pie baked just right

Home is wherever you are tonight”

---

The early morning tastes like coffee and Willie’s breath mints, gentle laughter lingering on his lips. And Alex has never been a morning person, but with the first rays of sun in his eyes and boxes crammed into every empty space in his car, he thinks that maybe he should wake up early more often.

The road seems to stretch endlessly ahead of them, but Alex can’t tell if the tension in his chest is anxiety or anticipation. Willie squeezes his hand in reassurance as he starts the car and they take a deep breath in unison, realizing it’s maybe the first time they’ve ever been able to truly breathe.

They’re several miles down the highway, shoved in between cardboard boxes and the dry August heat; and Alex’s car is cramped and smells of fast food and summer and Willie Willie Willie. Alex adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, mumbling the words to whatever song is playing on the clunky, staticky radio. The whole world seems softer, with the sun dipping just below the horizon, the last dregs of light sticking to the clouds and painting them pink. Alex sighs contentedly, a grin tugging at the ends of his lips. Willie has their hand stuck out the open window, giggling into the rushing air like it’s telling him the whole world’s secrets. And with their other hand gripped in his own, no reason to let go ever, Alex thinks that the secrets of the universe are laid right out on the dashboard for him to hold.

“What’s so funny?” Alex asks, although it’s less of a question and more a reason to hear Willie’s voice.

“We’re running away together,” Willie replies breathlessly. He laughs again, throwing his head back and stretching his arm farther out the window like he’s trying to touch the clouds.

“Well I wouldn’t quite say we’re running- oh okay.” The last part is in response to Willie putting their index finger over Alex’s lips and looking at him like he’s crazy.

“Yes we totally are. Buzzkill.”

Alex huffs, but it doesn’t hold any weight and is laced with a smile. “I’m driving, idiot. Stop- okay move your hand please.”

“Make me.”

“Willie.” Alex’s fixes a stern gaze on him, just long enough to send them into a fit of giggles before he turns back to face the road. It’s several minutes of comfortable, soft silence before Alex sighs in resignation. “I guess you can say we’re running away.”

“Ha!” Willie pumps his fist, narrowly avoiding smashing the ceiling. And really, considering the age of Alex’s rickety car, smashing would probably be the right word.

Alex raises their intertwined hands briefly. “Here’s to running away.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Willie cheers. They crinkle their nose and kiss Alex’s knuckles, hugging their hands to his chest.

“That’s…” Alex shakes off the crimson tint to his cheeks. “You’re not drinking anything.”

“Not yet,” Willie replies, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.

Willie falls asleep with the sun, something that’s baffled Alex for years. The sky is twinkling with stars and the horizon with city lights, and Willie’s curled up around a pillow, their cheek pressed against the window, breath fogging up the glass. Alex shifts slightly to turn down the music, maneuvering around cautiously to reach the knob without letting go of Willie’s hand. He can’t help from humming under his breath, it’s an older Queen song, one Alex remembers listening to with tangled headphones, huddled in the corner of the gym to avoid the atrocity of dodgeball.

“Love of my life…” Alex trails off, mouthing the lyrics. Beside him, Willie stirs slightly, mumbling something incoherent.

“Hmm?” Alex likes having conversations with a mostly asleep Willie, it’s incredibly entertaining.

“Love you more.” Eyes still closed, Willie pats Alex’s cheek and nods decidedly. “Mostest.”

“Is that so?”

“Love of my life!” Willie sings along loud and off-key, voice slurred with sleep. “M gonna love you forever.” They fall back, last bits of consciousness gone, and Alex blinks back surprised tears.

“And ever,” he finishes softly, squeezing Willie’s hand. Forever sounds nice.

The rest of the drive floats by like a spring breeze snaking through a field of long grass. Willie wakes up at some point, eats an ungodly amount of popcorn and screams the lyrics of American Idiot out the window at the bustling city, like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to hear the song. Alex can’t help but laugh loudly when a conservative looking old lady glares at them, utterly scandalized.

“I think you just ruined her night,” Alex quips with mock seriousness.

“As I should!” Willie flops back into the seat, adjusting their tangled seatbelt and looking at Alex with a lopsided grin.

Alex laughs for what’s maybe the millionth time today, and it hits him that this is the most he’s ever involuntarily smiled in a day. It’s half past 8 and he’s settled at the base of a tree with Willie perched on a branch just above his head, rambling on about color theory or something equally as confusing. The drive would’ve taken 4 hours without Willie pulling on Alex’s elbow and squealing for him to stop at everything mildly interesting, but Alex isn’t entirely complaining, even if his back is sore.

It’s odd, to be leaving LA, but Alex thinks that everyone knew he couldn’t stay there his whole life, not with the church on his drive to work and the streets full of too many people that know him too well. And maybe he didn’t like change, but it can’t be that much of a change if Willie is still there with him. Willie grounds him. So do Luke and Reggie and Julie and Flynn, but in a different way. His parents tied him to the floor, his friends root him, let him grow and have a place to come home to at the same time. And Willie? Willie is the ground. He is the soil and the curling grass to Alex’s timid tree. Willie is home, wherever they may be.

“2 miles,” Alex states, pulling gently on Willie’s ankle, letting them know that he wants to look at them. Willie hops down and Alex winces even when they land safe and sound on their feet.

“Why do you do that?” Alex questions huffily, crossing his arms over his chest.

Willie gives a half shrug. “ ‘S fun.”

“For you, maybe.”

“Hmm.” Willie drapes their arms around Alex’s neck, pulling him into into a gentle kiss. Kissing Willie feels like rain after months of drought, sun breaking through a canopy of trees, and Alex is sure that it always will, until they’re old and grey. Alex smiles against his lips, pulls apart and rests his forehead against Willie’s, biting his lip in a soft smile. “C’mon.” He clasps Willie’s hand and sticks it in the pocket of his hoodie, bumping their shoulders together. “Lets go home.”

“Home.” Willie breaks out in a grin that glows like the full moon on a clear night. “Yea.”

---

The apartment complex is wedged in between a suspicious looking butchery and a quaint little antique shop with butterflies painted on the dusty windows that Alex reminds himself to take Julie to at some point, when his friends all inevitably visit in the whirlwind that they are. The pale yellow wall paint is peeling and the stairs are much more wobbly than Alex is comfortable with, but he lets out a breathless, bubbly laugh at the sight of it. His parents aren’t there, nor is Caleb, or any of the things back in LA that were suffocating them both to the point that they booked it, half-broke and with only 2 months of warning.

Alex swings their hands, looking at a very bouncy Willie with his eyes blown wide from excitement. “Hey, we’re home.”

“We’re home!” Willie grabs Alex’s face roughly, fumbling to kiss him with their hands shaking and lips curled up in a giddy beam. They settle for holding him in a crushing hug, swaying them back and forth gleefully.

“You’re excited,” Alex chuckles, brushing at his crumpled hoodie when Willie breaks away.

Willie sticks his tongue out childishly. “So are you, admit it.”

Softening, Alex cups Willie’s cheek and exhales softly. “Of course I am.” He crinkles his nose affectionately as Willie leans up to peck his cheek. “Now-” Alex stacks as many boxes as he can fit in his arms. “Lets do this.”

---

It’s 2am and Alex is completely and utterly exhausted. Half the boxes are open, they unpacked most of it just looking for the air mattress. His record player is resting on the counter, there’s a pile of books in one corner and several trashbags of clothes in another. Willie is sitting crosslegged on the floor trying to work the portable air pump and scowling at the still deflated mattress like it stole his wallet.

“Y’know, you’d think they would provide some sort of instruction book,” Willie says poutingly. They fall back onto the wooden floor with an annoyed sigh.

Alex looks up from where his head is buried in his arms, sitting on the single bar stool they’d managed to fit in the car. “There was an instruction book, speed bump. You threw it out because you claimed that ‘everyone knows how to work an air pump!’”

“But I’m not everyone!” Willie whines. “You should’ve warned me.”

“I… okay.” Alex bows his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Lets blow up the mattress and call it a night, okay?” He lowers himself to the floor, hovering over Willie and tucking a strand of hair behind their ear. “Give me the pump, I’ll figure it out.”

“Hmm.” Willie hauls themself up, yawning loudly. They settle themselves in Alex’s lap, head tucked into his shoulder while Alex wraps his arms around them and fiddles with the mattress.

“M gonna fall sleep here,” Willie mumbles into Alex’s shoulder.

“Yea?”

“Mhm, g’night.” Willie burrows further into Alex, tucking his hands into his hoodie pockets.

Alex exhales, a fond smile tracing his face. He lifts one hand to card his fingers through Willie’s long hair, using the other to blow up the mattress. Willie groans in frustration at the loud noise and Alex has to fight a laugh.

“Alright get up, we have to- Willie.” Willie’s latched himself onto Alex like some sort of leech, pretending to be asleep despite the soft giggling escaping his lips.

“William,” Alex says, snickering. Willie doesn’t budge. “Pretty boy,” Alex tries. That always works.

Willie melts, lifting their head and flushing bright red. “Stop taking advantage of me,” He grumbles as he stands, pulling Alex up with him.

“Stop letting me,” Alex retorts with a teasing chuckle.

But instead of flopping unceremoniously onto the mattress like Alex expects, Willie pads tentatively to the wide window facing the flickering city and lets out a breath of awe. He hugs himself firmly, brushing his thumb over his bicep. Alex approaches them and snakes his arms around their torso, perching his chin on their shoulder and humming in question.

“I’m okay,” Willie answers the unspoken question, nudging Alex’s head lightly. “It’s just overwhelming but like…” he pauses, eyebrow furrowed in thought. “In a good way. It’s a lot, but it’s all good.”

Alex nods in understanding. “Yea, I agree.” He intertwines their fingers, rocking back and forth. “Lots of good.” He presses a kiss to the top of Willie’s head, lingering for a moment to relish in his presence.

“It’s beautiful,” Willie remarks, eyes raking over the bright city lights. It looks so distant and yet so familiar at the same time.

“You’ve seen the city a million times.”

“Ok, but this is a different city,” Willie responds. It’s true. It’s like the same puzzle with all the pieces arranged differently, except for one in the middle that the whole rest of the world revolves around.

Willie wriggles in Alex’s grip and spins around, tossing their arms over his shoulders and fidgeting with the hood of his sweatshirt. “Dance with me,” he says, voice soft and silvery, a whisper of cloud waltzing across the moon. Alex raises a doubtful eyebrow.

“You wanna dance… Willie, we’re exhausted.”

“No, no, no,” Willie shakes his head slowly, eyes squeezed shut for a moment. “Just-” They settle one hand one Alex’s shoulder and the other on his hip. Humming a gentle, lilting tune, they begin swaying side to side, drumming his fingers to a beat only in his head. “Dance with me.” He presses an idle kiss to Alex’s lips, chapped from the wind and laced with fresh apples . “Please.”

Alex hums in consideration, moving Willie’s hands to hold them in his own. “One second.” He ducks out of Willie’s arms, earning a squeak of protest.

Alex has had his record player for years now, Ray gave it to him as a Christmas present when he was 15 and he definitely cried. He’d gone through 3 boxes packing his records and Willie had looked… mildly concerned. But ha, who’s laughing now? The vinyl starts, popping occasionally in the way that makes Alex giggle with joy. Alex steps back proudly, floating back over to Willie and mimicking their previous position, one hand on their hip and the other on their shoulder. Willie smiles fondly at the song choice, Apple Pie by Lizzy Mcalpine, though he knows that nothing else would’ve fit.

“Remember the first time we listened to this song together?” Alex asks as Willie stumbles over his feet.

Willie nods. “Course I do, hotdog. You got sooo blushy.”

Alex shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, you kissed me so it worked out.”

“It did,” Willie whispers.

Alex spins them messily, laughing aloud when they slam into his chest without warning. "Very graceful," he remarks sarcastically.

Willie scrunches his face affectionately, pecking the tip of Alex's nose, singing gently as he draws back. "Home is wherever you are tonight."

It’s a tender moment, until Willie steps on Alex’s foot and snickers an apology. “Oops-”

“Ow, Willie. You don’t know how to slow dance do you?” Alex teases.

“Ok-”

Alex sighs warmly, god sometimes all the feelings were just so big and overwhelming. “Just, c'mere-” He draws Willie closer to him, embracing them like he’s the only thing in the world. And maybe, for the moment, he is. Willie tucks his head into Alex’s shoulder, breathing in his scent, lavender and dust; and Alex follows suit. His eyes flutter shut and he hums contentedly, heart giving a leap at the sheer domesticity of dancing in the empty living room in their pajamas, Willie tracing slow, sleepy circles on his back.

They’re hardly dancing anymore, really, wrapped up in each other like the sea and the shore at high tide, swaying to their synced heartbeats. The unfamiliar walls and creaky floorboards, cold beneath their socked feet, suddenly begin to look like home beneath all the strangeness and Alex can’t help but grin.

Alex’s home is in the crook of Willie’s neck and the light curve of his spine; the scent of rainstorms and cotton holding him close like he’s prone to break. And perhaps one day he will break, fall apart in Willie’s arms. But with the scratchy record humming in the background, and Willie’s body melting into his own, he thinks that their arms would be the best place to fall apart in.

---

art i made :)))

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #willex #willex fic #willie jatp #willie wilbur williamson #willie nolastname #alex mercer #netflixwewantjatp2 #julie molina #willow writes

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drawlfoy · 3 years

Text

Wonders of Ohio P.9

masterlist

requests are closed, but please read this first :)

if you want to be tagged, send an ask or message me!

pairing: draco x reader

request: nope, my original shameless self insert idea lmao

summary: american high school senior y/n y/l/n is in for the ride of her life when their exchange student is...a bit strange (but very hot). NOT a nonmagic AU, though you already knew that if you’ve read part 8 ;)

warnings: swearing, mentions of a break in, concerns about a home intruder, objectively the most fluffy scene we’ve gotten so far in this series (hehe), draco being fucking obnoxious and moody (did i mention swearing?)

a/n: ayoooooo so here’s part 9, as promised. i’ve started getting back into the hp universe more and more, so i should probably be picking up my writing soon. i’ve been feeling more myself again!! which is super awesome. i don’t think many people read this series anymore (or my author notes in general but i don’t blame yall) but i’m having a lot of fun writing it, so i’m going to keep going :)

music recs:

puppy princess -- hot freaks

loverboy -- A-wall

linger -- the cranberries

tags tags tags: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos

word count: 3.8k :)

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if Draco deliberately waited until the last minute to tell her family that he was leaving so he could evade her questioning. She tried to talk to him later that evening by knocking on his door, but she was met with complete silence.

Draco was ignoring her, and she didn’t get why. She’d promised to not tell anyone--even begged for him to trust her and essentially swore on her life--but he still wasn’t acting normal. Perhaps he didn’t want her to badger him with questions about the magical world.

Or maybe this was an excuse to get away from her.

Y/N swallowed the second possibility and locked it away somewhere out of sight. He’d left without a single word more to her (not even a congratulations for getting into a top 20 school, that loser) and never even bothered telling her when he’d return. And maybe that was the nicest part of it--she could pretend like he was never coming back.

As attractive as that option was, she had to admit that there was a Draco-shaped hole in her passenger car seat every time she drove to school. And in the kitchen when she was studying. And everywhere else he’d once touched.

“Why do you think he went back?”

Y/N took a break from reviewing her Art History final exam notes to look up at Lizzy. “Maybe something happened with his dad or he wanted to spend his holidays with his family? It’s probably not that serious.”

“Speaking of his dad, I tried to look up his name and see if anything came up,” Lizzy began. Y/N felt her heart jump into her throat. “Don’t you think it’s kinda sus? I haven’t found anything for him. It’s like he’s been completely wiped off the face of the earth. Do you know anything about it?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s any of my business.” Draco’s franticness when she found out lingered in the back of her mind as she chose her words carefully. “I’m sure if he’s a genuine political target, they’ve just scrubbed the web clean of him, being a minor and all.”

“But don’t you think it’s funny that he’s apparently so important but there’s no evidence of him or his father ever existing?”

“Lizzy.” Her voice was firm. “It’s entirely possible that his real name is different. And either way, it’s not our story to uncover. He’s entitled to his own privacy, and if he doesn’t reveal his true identity then we need to respect that.”

“Oooookaaayyyyy, Mother,” said Lizzy. “You’re so fun. You know that, right?”

“It’s my job.”

After the close brush with Lizzy, Y/N avoided the topic of Draco with her friends like wildfire. At the back of her mind, she registered that that was probably more suspicious, but when Sylvia asked her about him during lunch, she finally spun up a story.

“I told him I liked him,” she told everyone, the words stinging her throat. “He doesn’t feel the same way. I just would feel better if we dropped it.”

Her friends reacted immediately with sympathy, telling her that it wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t see her for what she was worth. Somehow, this made her feel worse. She didn’t even need to tell him her feelings to know his thoughts--he didn’t see her as anything but a “muggle”, or whatever he called them. She never stood a chance.

Y/N spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering how things would’ve been different if she was a witch. She didn’t know anything about his world (apart from the fact that they really had a stick up their asses about people knowing of them) but she somehow craved a place in it. Would Draco feel differently towards her if she was magic?

It was probably better if she didn’t pay too much mind to it, but she couldn’t let the thought go. Every time she shut her eyes at night, the memory of waking up next to Draco replayed in her head, over and over. She would’ve sold her soul to have gone back to that. Would things have been different if she had just...not found the letters? She was driving herself crazy digging through all her interactions with him. There’s no way she was imagining things, and judging by the surprised reactions of her friends when she told them he didn’t reciprocate feelings, she wasn’t the only one who thought something was there. If he was really so disgusted by her and her people, he wouldn’t have let her sleep in his room, in his bed no less.

As December wore on, her mind began to be occupied by another feverish stream of thoughts. If she didn’t already feel like she was going crazy over the Draco problem, she was going completely insane over the fact that she was misplacing things like crazy and forgetting the most basic of things. It seemed like it was almost every day that she was forgetting where she put her keys (even though she could’ve sworn she’d hung them up by the door) or getting home to find the door already unlocked even though she was sure that she’d locked it behind her. It would’ve creeped her out, but she was really off kilter. It just wasn’t right having Draco away, and the sense of dread she got every time she went by her room just threw her off balance. What if she still had lingering sickness from whatever magical infliction she suffered?

He really should’ve stuck around to watch after me. Just in case.

Another thing was bothering her--a name she saw pop up in the pouch from when she went through his letters. It was a small portion of his collection, and she didn’t even think to examine it until after he took them back from her, but she noticed that the name “Pansy Parkinson” came up more than once as a return address.

Her mind immediately jumped to the worst--Draco was madly in love with another girl, a magical girl, and traveled back home with the express purpose of declaring his neverending devotion for her and complaining about that rat Ohioan muggle that he had to spend his days with.

Y/N knew it wasn’t healthy, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t quite shake it. The fact that he’d no doubt grown up around girls that would be suitable for him to date was making her physically ill with jealousy, which was probably the most embarrassing part of her feelings for him. Nevermind how much time she spent fantasizing about how soft his hair felt or how his stupidly pretty fingers would feel grazing her skin--she couldn’t even cope with the idea of him existing with other women that were honestly a better choice to him.

That Christmas was surprisingly bleak. Being an only child always made for a quiet house during the holidays, but the expectation she held of having Draco there set her up for disappointment. Her house felt empty.

“Do you think he’s coming back?” Y/N asked her mother as they did the morning dishes together.

“Well, I assume so. Why wouldn’t he? He was scheduled to spend the entire year with us. I think that if he’s changed his mind we would at least know by now.”

“What if he’s still deciding?”

“Why, miss him already?” Mrs. Y/L/N’s tone was teasing, but she felt her cheeks grow hot.

“Quite the contrary. I’m just wondering if I’m about to become the pampered only child again or if I’m going to need to go back into the unglamorous life of sharing the spotlight.”

“Y/N,” her mother tutted. She’d stopped doing the dishes.

Y/N made a point to evade her knowing look. “Mom.”

Her mother took a breath before answering. “Nothing. As a matter of fact, I did get a letter from him a few days ago. He’s scheduled to return the second week of January, right before school goes back.”

“Oh,” said Y/N. No matter how hard she tried, there’s no way her relief wasn’t visible.

“How’s that for your Christmas gift, hm?”

“Mom!”

“Hey! Hey, it was a joke,” Mrs. Y/L/N said, throwing her hands up in a “no can do” sort of gesture. “I know that you’re good friends with him is all. Unless…”

“Mom!” Her cheeks were all shades of red.

“All I’m saying is that he seems to enjoy your company.”

“Stockholm syndrome, I’m telling you.” Her explanation of what that meant was on the tip of her tongue before she stopped herself. There was no reason to--the only person who would need that explained to them was no longer on the same continent as her.

“Whatever you’d like to think.”

The snowstorm hit them without warning, two days after Christmas. Her parents had left for the night to attend a charity auction, but unfortunately for Y/N, by the time that they realized that their daughter would be snowed in, the roads were too dangerous to drive on. Y/N begrudgingly agreed to do all of the things they told her to--get the generator ready, make sure the fireplace was prepared, and locate all the candles in the house.

On any normal day, she wouldn’t have been concerned in the slightest, but she’d felt uneasy in her house ever since the night of the break-in, and now that this was the first night she’d have to spend alone, her heart was pounding at the thought of having to sleep in an empty house. Especially if the power was out. Especially when whoever broke in was still on the loose.

She locked up at dusk, making sure that every entry to her home was completely sealed shut. The generator was in the basement, all set up in the case that the lights went out. She’d located all the bottled water in her house in case the pipes froze, and she finally retired to her room to relax.

The sense of dread that hovered around Draco’s room was gone, thankfully. The overall feeling of creepiness was just beginning to lose its jarring sting, but she’d never quite been able to shake how many things she misplaced in the beginning of the month.

She busied herself with mundane activities--she cleaned out her closet, organized her drawers, read, changed her sheets, and finished the last of her homework--but nothing could distract her from the gnawing inside of her. The hairs on the back of her neck constantly stood up, even when she was tucked away in the corner of her room, nestled into her blankets. The tingling was akin to what she felt when she walked into that antique shop on homecoming night--the same night when Draco helped her off her feet and narrowly kept her from throwing up all over Heather.

Looking back on it, she realized that when he grabbed her wrist, he must’ve done something to quell her nausea, something magical. There was no way her carsickness could’ve been able to disappear so quickly.

Her soliloquy was interrupted by what sounded like footsteps outside. Before she could assess the situation and decide what she was going to do, a boom sounded off in the distance and she was all of a sudden bathed in darkness.

Y/N froze.

Someone was most definitely outside her house, but thankfully she’d locked all the doors. And, thankfully, the boom told her that her fuse box hadn’t been messed with. A tree had probably just fallen on a transformer.

But those small comforts still didn’t change the fact that she was no longer alone--and not only that, but no longer alone without power.

Her thoughts were interrupted once again by banging on her front door. Y/N jumped, just barely managing to clap her hand over her mouth to muffle her shriek. She’d seen enough horror movies to know that alerting someone that you were home wasn’t the smartest move. She’d have to be strategic.

Heart pounding out of her chest, she crept out of her room and down the stairs. The power outage was quite lucky, she realized, as whoever was outside couldn’t see in. The moon only cast a slight light as it reflected off of the snow, so she was going to be able to see the person outside before they would see her.

She squinted from her perch by the base of the staircase. She could make out a silhouette, a tall and lanky one. The weak moonlight reflected off a very light head of hair, and Y/N was struck with a feeling of familiarity.

No way...

Y/N stood frozen for a few seconds as she heard the person knock on the door again. A muffled version of a familiar British voice said, “Is anyone there?”

Throwing all caution to the wind and praying to any higher power that was listening to her that her suspicion was correct, she pushed down on the doorknob and swung it open.

Her heart stopped.

“Draco? What are you--”

Before she could get another word out of her mouth, she was pulled into the tightest (and snowiest) hug of her life. One of his arms wrapped solidly around her waist, the other reaching further up to her shoulders to hold her closer. He was tall enough in comparison that he could rest his chin on the top of her head while she cautiously clasped her hands around him, breathing in the same soft pine scent that she knew so well.

When he finally let go of her, she noticed that his face was decidedly less pale than what it had been when she first opened the door. At a loss for words, Y/N just made her way behind him and shut the door to keep the storm from blowing any more snowflakes in. She noted that Draco was shaking.

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice low and quiet.

She grinned. “Yeah. Believe it or not, I’m not that scared of the dark.”

He didn’t look nearly as amused, wringing his hands out in front of him instead of meeting her eyes.

“You’re going to freeze to death if you’re gonna just stand there in soaking clothes,” she chided. “And what are you doing back half a month early? I know you must’ve missed me, but I didn’t expect you to miss me THAT much.”

He rolled his eyes, bringing Y/N the comfort that the sarcastic asshole was still in there. “We need to talk.”

“No, what you need to do is get changed into dry clothes,” she said. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but until we get our generator working, there’s no heat...and I’m not sure if the Ministry is going to like it if I let you die on my watch.”

Even though he didn’t normally laugh at her jokes, he seemed especially solemn when she said this. It became very clear to her then that he regretted his brief display of affection.

“What are you doing, just standing here? Shoo! I don’t want to see you dripping snow all over the rug.” She waved him off until he made his way up the stairs, still eerily silent.

Once she was sure he was actually getting dressed, she made her way to the kitchen where she started heating up the water. She’d never been more thankful for the fact that they had a gas stove instead of an electric one.

The tea was almost finished brewing by the time that Draco was back downstairs, perched awkwardly on the couch. She’d never seen his sweater before--it was in a rich forest green with a silver crest of a snake.

“Are you going to tell me whatever is going on? I’ve never seen you like this before,” asked Y/N as she handed him the mug that she knew to be his favorite.

He took a sip and waited a bit before responding. “I found out some things while I was away.”

“Is that it? Must’ve been something pretty interesting for you to come in here and act like I’m your long lost love or whatever.” She took careful note of how his cheeks were especially pink, but it must’ve been because of the cold.

“I shouldn’t tell you everything, but I think you should probably know the gist of things,” he began. “First of all, I figured out why I couldn’t use the Obliviation cube on you. Also, you have to consent to an Unbreakable Vow.”

“A...what? Care to elaborate? Like, at least a little? Why didn’t it work on me?”

He sighed, a sharp breath of air that left his lungs in a huff. “Because you stumbled upon a very important box that can bestow the gift of magic onto anyone. And since you did something in your dream to try and open it, it permanently took root in you. I tried to reverse it, but there’s always going to be an imprint of magic on you.”

“Sick. So I’m a witch now? Like you?”

“No.” His tone was sour. “No, you’re not. For that to work, there needs to be a ritual actually completed by someone magical. That’s why you got so sick--because you would’ve needed me to help you through your dream sequence and open up the box. So, now that you’ve essentially pushed yourself into the magical world uninvited, I can’t use anything on you that’s catered towards Muggles.”

“Rats,” said Y/N. “That’s no fun. What about the whole part about my safety? And what’s that vow thing?”

“Apparently someone really, really wants that box,” Draco told her. “It doesn’t just give muggles the gift of magic--it can also give current wizards powers that are otherwise completely unavailable to the rest of the population. In the wrong hands, they could wreak havoc on the world. And I’m almost positive they think you have it.”

“Oh…” Everything started falling into place. “So, the break in? That probably was them right? And, uh, let’s say if you feel like maybe someone has been in your house while you’ve been gone? Like, that’s something I should be worried about, right?”

“Is that happening to you?” His face looked significantly more pale.

Y/N was tempted to tell him no--just to ease his nerves--but something in his look told her that she needed to be truthful. “Um, kind of. You know how I can be forgetful, though. It’s just little things, like sometimes I come home to find that the front door is unlocked when I’m sure I locked it, or I can’t find little things like my car keys and my phone, but it’s all easily explained.”

“I never should’ve left,” he said, tucked his knees up to his chest. “I should’ve known that that was Merlin’s Box.” He swallowed, meeting her eyes with a gaze that looked so forlorn that her heart ached. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, all we have to do is tell them I don’t have the box, right? And then they’ll leave me alone.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I assume so, but if they didn’t find the box when they originally ransacked your room and they’re still hanging around, I don’t know what to do. That’s why I can’t obliviate you, the proper way that we use on wizards, because I can’t always be there to save you. Once I’m gone, you’re going to have to manage on your own.”

“Please, Draco,” said Y/N. “People will always talk a big game, but once I pull out my pepper spray it’s over. I can take care of myself! I didn’t need protection while you’re away.”

He smiled then, a small one that seemed more sad than anything. “You sound like me. When I was younger.”

“You probably don’t even know what pepper spray is. What’s that vow thing?”

“You have to promise that you won’t say anything that would reveal what you know about me and my world,” said Draco. “I need to find a wizard to say the incantations, but it shouldn’t be too hard. I ended up telling the Ministry what happened--I’m not going to get sent away as they have a clear record of me at least attempting to wipe your memory and they agree that you need to be able to protect yourself. Unbreakable Vows are just really intense promises. If you break it, you die.”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t really trust my word?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s required by the Ministry. If you don’t comply, then you’re going to be completely obliviated and then you can have as much fun as you’d like trying to run from whoever that criminal is without even knowing why they’re after you. Oh, and without me.”

“Then why are you even offering the vow? Don’t you want to go home?”

Draco took a long drink from his mug. “I still have a sentence to carry out. If I go back home, I’ll get sent to the same prison that my father is being held at right now.”

“A...sentence?” Y/N stared at him. “I know you mentioned a punishment, but a sentence?”

He remained silent and refused to meet her eyes.

“Draco, what exactly did you have to do?”

“It’s none of your business,” he snapped. The sudden switch of tone made Y/N start, but he was unwavering in his scowl. “I’d prefer to not think about it.”

“But...Draco…” Y/N cast her gaze to the ground so she didn’t have to see the no doubt furious look in his eyes when she continued to push. “How bad? Do you think that maybe whoever is after me might know that I don’t have the box anymore? And that they might be trying to seek revenge against you for whatever it was that you did instead?”

He didn’t respond.

“Think about it. That would explain why I was untouched this whole time that you were away when they were still keeping tabs on me.”

With a pronounced bonk, he set his mug down on the coffee table. “I’m going to bed.”

She managed to get one more look at his face before he spun around to head up the stairs and was shocked to see what was etched into his face--anger, yes, frustration...and also shame. Unmistakable shame.

final a/n: weeoooooooo i’m like 3 minutes early...this is a monumental moment for my blog. let me know what you guys think (if there’s still people sticking with this series fjkds;al). i am going to go back into my hole and work on some math hw (wonders of ohio y/n vibes...i have low key become her trying to roleplay as a stem girl). the plot is going to thicken and hopefully there will be more fluff soon. i honestly didn’t want to add the hug bc i do want this to be slow burn but it has come to my attention that this is now about 30k words long and i haven’t given y’all so much as an inkling that draco has feelings/anything will happen between them so i gotta give you something to hold you over fjdska;

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy #draco #dracotok #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n

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