#and remembered how Tall and Grand i thought he was and how much i looked up to him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherienymphe · 7 months

Text

Bite Marks & Bruises (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, stalking, period sex + consumption, blood, compulsion

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

summary: Roman Godfrey is spoiled and arrogant and rude...and he gets whatever he wants.

Your life was over the first moment you stepped into The Godfrey Mansion.

The dark, gothic, and imposing structure was a staple in Hemlock Grove for as long as you could remember, countless stories being passed around at sleepovers about all manner of horrors and mysteries that probably took place in the home. Tales of shadowy figures and howling wolves and low moaning wails like whispers on the wind. None of it was true, of course, lies made up by overimaginative girls with too much time on their hands, driven to pass around falsities out of an unquenched desire to see what the infamous house was really like.

As you got older, such stories became silly to you, aware that it was just a home like any other owned by some rich woman like any other. All of its intrigue lay in its exclusivity, its secretiveness, and with maturity came the lessening desire to see inside some fancy old home. Even as you walked the halls with its inhabitants—Shelley and Roman Godfrey—the Godfrey mansion was just something you thought about less and less.

Until about six months after you graduated.

…and Olivia Godfrey was offering you substantial compensation to tutor her daughter.

It wasn’t an answer that required a lot of thought on your end. After all, you would be relaxing in a beautiful mansion and helping some seventeen-year-old with her homework while getting paid for it. With no desire—and no money—to jet off to college anytime soon, it seemed like an obvious choice. Those silly stories that you and your friends would tell each other under the cover of darkness behind closed bedroom doors were the farthest thing from your mind.

It was cold the first day you walked to The Godfrey Mansion.

It was the middle of November in Pennsylvania—air biting, leaves crunchy, and breeze gentle. Olivia Godfrey greeted you with a smile, her dark hair looking like midnight against her fair skin. The mother of two didn’t look a day over thirty, and you remembered staring at her, feeling so hypnotized by her beauty and wondering how she was old enough to have two children of graduating age. Her thin statuesque frame swayed gently with her every step, hands gingerly flailing about as she gave you the grand tour.

“All of her tutoring will take place up in her room,” she told you, tone rich and poised. “Shelley is so very particular about her space…and I’m trusting you.”

That last comment was said slowly, and she turned to face you as she said it, hands clasped together as her umber eyes connected with yours. Silence followed, and you didn’t need to be a genius to know what she was getting at. You recalled how the kids at school would treat Shelley, how they would simultaneously fear and torment her. Her daughter was protective of her space, she was protective of her daughter, and she was allowing you access to both.

“I understand,” you eventually forced out, nodding.

It was quick, but her cold visage transformed almost instantly, that ever-polite smile on her pink lips. In no time, Olivia Godfrey had turned back around and was continuing to lead you through the mansion. She droned on about the different rooms, making a point to comment on your chances of getting lost should you need to use the bathroom or something.

“Shelley must get all of her rest as growing teens do, so you won’t be staying all hours of the night, but you will be welcome to join us for dinner should you ever choose to.”

You didn’t know if you’d ever take her up on the offer, but you welcomed the polite invite, nonetheless.

You’d been tutoring Shelley for four days when you finally came face to face with him. Roman Godfrey—tall and spoiled and possessing the kind of face every girl you knew would gush over. You’d been in the same graduating class, but you were sure that you’d never talked to Roman once, not until you were in his house and eating his food, at least. You recalled walking to and from school most days, your gaze catching sight of that bright red convertible.

Since graduating, you didn’t see it as much.

After reuniting in his dining room…you saw it all the time.

“Sweetheart, you remember Y/N, don’t you?” Olivia’s articulate speech filled the air as soon as her son stepped through the threshold. “I believe she graduated with you last year.”

She continued after looking to you for confirmation, smiling at her son when you nodded.

“She’s been tutoring Shelley, and she finally took me up on my offer to join us for dinner.”

The dark-haired teenager didn’t say a word at first, slowly making his way to the table. You had never known Roman to look…bad, always dressed immaculate even while wearing the simplest of things. Shelley—a much more outgoing individual than you’d initially believed—had smiled at her brother with his approach. Their mother had started up an entirely different conversation, one you tried to be involved in, but you felt trapped by Roman’s gaze instead.

If you thought Olivia Godfrey was hypnotizing and entrancing in every way, then Roman Godfrey was absolutely paralyzing.

It was hard to look away from him, trying everything in your power to but failing every time. His dark hair was neat and pushed away from his face, perfect and put together even within the privacy of his home. His green eyes didn’t look so green, and you wondered if it was the lighting in the dining room…or something else entirely. When he finally made himself comfortable next to Shelley and diagonal from you, only then did you find the strength to lower your gaze to your food.

Dinner was a talkative affair, Olivia dominating the conversation with the occasional commentary from her son. She pulled you into the dialogue here and there, but with an oppressing gaze weighing down on you, you felt…restricted. It was purely all in your head, you knew that, but you couldn’t fight the thought that Roman was watching your every move—judging you.

You really could not get out of the house fast enough when dinner was over, hoping that your sudden skittishness was not noticeable. Roman’s gaze was something you felt on you even as you insisted you’d make it home just fine. Olivia didn’t fight you too much on it, and you were grateful, and the darkness that met you was somehow less terrifying than vibrant green eyes. It wasn’t until the next day when you realized that Roman wasn’t judging you, at all.

What he was doing was much worse.

“I really don’t mind walking.”

You told him this as he sat in your driveway, that familiar fancy red car taking up residence in it. The sun was out, and he was wearing shades and a thick jacket that made him appear bigger than he actually was. His jaw slowly moved, some gum in his mouth you presumed, and after a moment or two, he slowly turned his head to stare directly at you. Your eyes briefly glanced at his tapping finger against the wheel.

“You’re tutoring Shelley. Why would I make you walk all the way to our house when it’s not like I have anything better to do, anyway?”

He said it so flippantly, almost like this whole ordeal annoyed him, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that his mother made him park in your driveway. However, Roman never struck you as the kind of guy to do something he didn’t want to do, so his attitude only served to confuse you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and although you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew they were fixated on you.

You could feel the heat of them despite the cold air that surrounded you.

After some time of your short impasse, a slow smirk danced along his lips.

“I could always make you…”

His voice was low, and there was something mirthful in his tone, like the idea of dragging you and forcing you into his fancy car was an entertaining one. Something in you told you that he would despite what you wanted to believe, and something else told you that he’d enjoy it very much. With that thought and a sigh, you finally conceded and made your way to his passenger side.

His eyes remained on you the whole way there.

The ride was quiet, the walk from his car to the door even quieter.

Olivia’s voice rang through the house, inquiring as to if that was him coming through the door. The sound of his voice was answer enough, and you looked away from him when he slowly took off his shades.

“…and Y/N.”

Something about the sound of your name coming from his lips unnerved you. It didn’t exactly roll off of his tongue, something mocking in the way he said it, and you stared straight ahead as you walked down the hall in search of Shelley. You didn’t dare look back, afraid of what might be gaining on you.

Roman was the kind of guy that was impossible to ignore. Not only because he was just that imposing, but also because he simply wouldn’t let you. You’d gone to school with him for years, and it wasn’t until you both graduated did you learn that he was needy and constant in his want for attention. He was disturbingly honest, vulnerable to his desire to say the first thing on his mind no matter how inappropriate.

…and he was determined to get what he wanted once he decided he wanted it.

“So what? You didn’t want to fuck off out of this town and go to college or something?”

He asked you one day as you relaxed—as best as you could within his presence, anyway—in the passenger seat of his car. He wasn’t wearing his shades, and you almost missed them when you looked over to meet his green gaze. It was so intense, and there were moments where you were sure that Roman could see right through you.

“Don’t know what I would go for,” you replied, the cold air whipping against your face.

You could feel him looking at you as you stared through the windshield, and you got the feeling that he wanted you to elaborate on that. Even if you did know how to talk to Roman, you still wouldn’t. He made you uncomfortable in ways you couldn’t even explain, and the worst thing you did was allow him to know that.

There always seemed to be some sick pleasure in his eyes, the green of them glinting with something unknown to you. He watched you like a cat would a mouse, a wolf would a deer, a predator fully amusing itself with the prey it had in its line of reach. Only, Roman wasn’t some predator. He was some guy, you reminded yourself, and you were simply some girl.

At worst, you likened Roman to that of an asshole with too much free time on his hands.

The only person spared from that was his sister.

“You’re good with her,” he commented, turning his car off as it sat in your driveway.

Your hand was on the handle, seconds away from exiting the vehicle when he spoke. His voice had startled you, used to the silence of his unwavering gaze as he watched you exit his car and go into the house. You watched him place a cigarette between his lips, the flame from his lighter brightening his face in the night. The smell of smoke followed soon after.

“Shelley,” he explained, exhaling. “You’re good with her. She likes you.”

You glanced away, squirming in your seat when presented with an actual conversation you could have with the rich boy.

“I like her too. She’s very sweet…and…even funny, sometimes.”

You shrugged when he looked at you, pulling another drag, and the longer he stared at you, the more uncomfortable you started to feel. You looked away, gaze falling to your purse at your feet, preparing to grab it and wish him a good night when he spoke again.

“My mother thinks I stare at you too much.”

His words shocked you, and your eyes widened when you looked at him again. He wasn’t looking at you, now, smoking and partaking in his cigarette. Your own lips parted, unsure of how to respond to that, and he took another drag, loudly exhaling. Roman had a habit of saying anything that was on his mind, so that wasn’t what shocked you. You were shocked because it wasn’t all in your head…

…and that someone else had noticed too.

“She’s right,” he breathed, gazing at you, now, and you swallowed.

His eyes were taken with the action, lowering and resting on your neck for a few seconds too long. It was late and dark, save for the half moon in the sky, but something in his gaze seemed to shift as he stared at your throat, eyes tracing the very top of your chest before they met yours again.

You swore they weren’t as green, now.

“I do stare,” he murmured, looking away and taking another pull—a final pull—of the cigarette between his fingers. “You’re pretty…and I sometimes wonder if you were this pretty in school.”

You didn’t know if you liked where this conversation was going, straightening and looking away.

“School was only six months ago,” you mumbled, finally speaking after some time. “I can’t possibly look that different.”

Roman chuckled then, and it was a genuine sound, and so you didn’t know if he was laughing at you or himself.

“You’re right,” he relented. “I was probably just too busy fucking cheerleaders and paying already rich girls for sex.”

You grimaced, reaching for your purse, now when he stopped you. You were alarmed by the feel of his hand on your wrist, and when you looked up at him from your leaned over position, it seemed that Roman was somewhat startled by his own actions. Like he’d always entertained the thought but never imagined he’d go through with it. He quickly let you go like you’d burned him, and you slowly sat up as he cleared his throat.

“Shelley’s gonna be hanging out with our uncle tomorrow…” he looked away. “They’re close like that, but… That doesn’t mean I still can’t pick you up.”

He said a whole lot without saying much, and you felt your stomach twist. Roman was used to telling a girl he wanted her and then…well…having her. You’d seen it many times, the way they flocked to him and preened at the opportunity to fuck Roman Godfrey, and it wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive…because he was.

…and he knew it.

Roman scared you. Everything about him seemed designed with the key purpose of repelling you. He was too observant, too sure of himself, too…creepy. These weren’t things you could overlook, and instead of helping him, you were sure that his looks didn’t help your feelings. Roman didn’t look real at times—genetically altered even—and it only made you think there was something…inhuman about him.

Something that told you he wasn’t like you…and you should be wary.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you honestly replied, and you didn’t stick around to look at his face.

You held your purse to you as you got out of his car, and you reluctantly looked at him, your sympathetic gaze meeting his even one.

“I’m just here to tutor Shelley…and…we should probably keep it that way.”

You kept your rejection soft, and you turned away from him before he could reply. You ignored the feel of his gaze boring into your back, wrapping your arms around yourself as some half assed protection against the cold. You couldn’t get in your house fast enough, and you swore that you’d been leaning against the door for at least half an hour, waiting to hear him finally drive off.

The first night Roman raped you, it was raining.

Storming, to be more specific. It was odd because it was winter, and Pennsylvania was known for its summer storms. It was why you were even at the mansion so late, Roman refusing to drive in the violent downpour and you unable to walk. Olivia seemed to care neither here nor there about the whole thing, almost annoyingly cavalier about your plight.

“Oh, darling, you know how unpredictable a bit of rain can be,” she’d said, a glass of wine in her hand. “There’s no shortage of guest rooms. Find one for the night. I’m sure Roman can be of some help in that department.”

You hadn’t missed her crooked smile, an almost wicked sight as she softly chuckled to herself. She clearly found her son’s attraction to you amusing, harmless even, while you found it uncomfortable at best. Shelley was the one to help you get sorted for the night, visible eye soft and smile even softer as she pointed out where the towels and such would be.

You hadn’t realized you’d forgotten the problem of clothes until you stepped out of the shower to find some on the counter.

You froze at the sight, sure that you hadn’t heard a soul come in. At least…no one who wanted to be heard, and you grimaced before putting them on. Walking the corridors of The Godfrey Mansion with clothes in hand felt weird, and when you made it to your chosen guest bedroom of the night, you still didn’t relax.

Nothing about the mansion was calming, and the raging storm outside only made it worse. You laid in bed for a long time, wide awake and staring at the ceiling, just waiting for your heart to stop racing and your mind to grow quiet. It felt like forever, but it happened, and when it did, you finally felt your lashes flutter.

Sleep was finally yours.

…and then you woke up.

The sharp stabbing pain had you sitting up in bed, hand pressed to your stomach at the ache you felt deep within it. The familiar ache, and you felt your heart sink, wondering how your night could possibly get any worse. You didn’t need to look at the bed to know that you’d left something behind, only searching for your purse, positive you had an extra pad or tampon or something.

Relief filled your heart, and product in hand, you made your way into the hall in search of the bathroom. So focused on your pain and finding the bathroom, you didn’t mind the dark corridor, at all. Any other night, and you might have been hypervigilant with fear, but as it were, you could only focus on stopping any more ruin of the pajamas you’d been given.

It was a noise from behind you that gave you pause, and as you turned around, all those childhood stories about the fearful Godfrey Mansion came to mind. Every manifestation of what goes bump in the night filled your mind, but as you stared into the darkness, darkness was all you were met with. Telling yourself that an old mansion was bound to creak and groan, you turned away.

…and straight into Roman.

His very presence forced a shriek from your lips, and in your panic, your hands pressed to his chest. His bare chest. You didn’t register it, at first, so focused on trying to calm your heart and relax again. Your hands were empty, your saving grace of the night on the floor, and when you took a step back to pick it up, Roman took one forward.

You paused at the action.

“Roman-.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

The question came out somewhat harsh, and you squinted at him in the darkness. It threw you off for several reasons, but mostly because you didn’t understand what he meant. As best as you could make it out in the darkness, his face seemed contorted, pinched actually—eyes narrowed, lips pursed, and gaze riddled with accusations.

“…what? Roman, what are you-.”

Your words died in the air when he forced himself closer, a strange look on his face as he eyed you. You watched his nostrils flare, another step forward from Roman, and you finally took another back. He was so close, too close, and when you blinked, you remembered that you didn’t have time to try and understand Roman tonight. Ignoring him, you reached down, and as soon as your hand was around what you so desperately needed, another hand was coming down on your wrist.

You reacted harshly, flinching and crying out, and you registered that Roman’s grip was actually…painful.

You were both standing now, Roman still holding onto you, and his nose brushed against yours as he leaned in. His hair, normally so neat and perfectly in place, was kissing his forehead. The dark strands were going every which way, and when his lips parted, a soft exhale escaping in time with a flutter of his lashes, only then did you say his name again.

As if waking up from a dream, you watched his eyes focus in on your face, really focus, and it took him some time to let you go.

Your wrist ached, his phantom touch lingering, and you held it to you protectively. You felt that you could really see into Roman’s eyes, now, and the mansion lit up from a brief flash of lightning. His own eyes glinted, and you recalled that the last time you and Roman were this close, he was trying to spend time with you outside of his sister’s tutoring.

…and you’d turned him down.

When he took a step back, he finally spoke again.

“Looking for the bathroom?”

You wondered how he knew that, but you surmised that it was a good guess. After all, it was the middle of the night, and you were roaming the corridors with a tampon in hand. At your nod, he slowly smiled at you, something mocking in it as he reached out to rest a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s over here,” he told you. “You’ll get lost without me.”

His voice was smooth, tone almost gentle, and it was like that awkward and startling moment had never even happened. His touch was light on your arm as he guided you through the darkness, and as uncomfortable as Roman made you, in your predicament, you didn’t have much choice but to follow his lead. The muffled sound of rain was all that surrounded you, and when Roman finally reached what looked like the bathroom, you relaxed.

“They say sex helps with that…”

You paused, looking at the rich boy, and his visage was serious.

“The cramps,” he continued with a raise of his brows as if you didn’t know what he was getting at.

“So, I’ve heard,” you said after some time, unsure of how to even respond to that.

When you walked into the bathroom, you were shocked by the feel of Roman ripping the tampon out of your hand. The light from the bathroom lit up the hallway behind him, the darkness on the edge of the doorway making him look…ominous. His gaze was unreadable, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“You’re not funny,” you told him, reaching for it, but he only held it out of reach. “Roman…”

You stumbled back when he crossed the threshold, blocking the doorway completely, and irritated and in pain, you were losing your patience for his game. He could be such a child sometimes, demanding attention at the worst moment possible, and you grabbed the tampon with a quickness. Only, Roman held onto it too, and he pushed at your hand, forcing you back in the process.

His green irises glinted under the light.

“Roman…”

You words died in the air when his hand slid to wrap around your wrist like earlier, and you felt your heart…drop.

The way he stared at you, something about it was terrifying, and his eyes started to appear almost unfocused. His hand tightened, and you winced, and you were just about to say his name again when the sound of the door clicking shut reached your ears. You blinked, looking behind him, unaware that he’d forced you both so far into the bathroom with enough room to kick the door shut. Like the first day you came face to face with him again, you felt paralyzed, trapped under the crushing weight of his gaze, and you could feel your heart speed up.

His hold on your arm prevented you from moving when he kissed you.

You were in shock, feeling wholly out of control that you just stood there, unable to quite feel his lips on yours. You felt crowded by him, forced to hold still lest you provoke something impulsive, and you didn’t even register just how painful his hold on your wrist became. You only blinked when the stabbing pain deep in the pit of your stomach reminded you of your plight.

Pulling away, you pushed at his chest.

“Roman, what the hell?”

Your lower back painfully met the sink, and you simultaneously tried to lean away and push him away too. His other hand snaked around your neck, your head harshly pressing against the mirror, and you whined in frustration. His lithe frame found a home between your kicking legs, and your panic seized you when he kissed you again.

Fighting against Roman felt like a lost cause—he was stronger than he looked.

The kiss felt hungry, like he was trying to devour you, and you whined again as he pressed you against the sink more. The hand on your wrist kept your arm outstretched, and he let out a sound in between the kiss that sounded somewhat like a hiss. His breathing was heavy too, and when he finally let your neck go, there was no sense of relief.

You pushed at him as he pulled at your pants, and they were barely to your knees when Roman suddenly dropped. One hand on your leg kept you from moving, the other preoccupied with getting the other out of the borrowed pajamas. Horror and confusion were battling within you, and all you could manage to do was hit at the wall when he dipped his head between your thighs.

Horrifying and bloody circumstances aside, you didn’t want this.

You cried out his name, throat tightening, and your free leg banged against the sink cabinet. One of his hands had a death grip on your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin so harshly you knew it would bruise. He kept it pushed away, practically flat against the counter, the stretch burning in a way that made you wince. However, the feel of his tongue between your legs made for a confusing reaction.

Your head was spinning at the feel of his tongue sliding along your bloody folds, lips completely covering your mound as he sucked at you. Your eyes rolled, and it was hard to focus on the true nature of what was going on. Your toes curled under his ministrations, and your nails scraped against the wall and counter top.

“Roman, stop,” you choked out, heart beating wildly in your chest.

You finally pushed at his chest, whining in both pain and pleasure when he refused to move, only lapping at you harder. Your stomach was tightening for more reasons than one, now, and despite the cold season and cold mansion, you felt so hot. Too hot.

Roman hooked his arm under your thigh, yanking you down further, and you were in too much of an awkward and painful position to properly fight back. When your nails dug into his face, his other arm wrapped around your free leg, forcing that one where he wanted it to be too. You couldn’t even grapple with the full circumstances of Roman with his face between your legs during that time of the month, reaching out at the wall and counter in panic when he fell back, taking you with him.

Unable to move, you were forced to sit on his face, hands pushing against the wall behind him as a means to get free. That tightening in your gut was accompanied with a pleasant burn, now, and your breath hitched, lashes fluttering at that tightening coil, shrinking more and more until it had no choice but to release, making you gasp when it did.

The moan you let out was unlike anything you’d heard from yourself, shocked at the strain in your voice. You couldn’t breathe fast enough, sucking in air with a swimming vision. In Roman’s greedy consumption of you, his hold loosened, and you didn’t hesitate to push yourself off of him. You were still shaking, the remnants of your orgasm gripping you, and your eyes were wide as you looked at Roman. He laid on the floor with parted lips, slowly blinking in wonder as he ran his hands through his hair.

The entire bottom half of his face was covered in your blood.

You felt frozen, unsure of how to even process what had just happened. You were so confused and disturbed and scared, staring at Roman like he was something not of this world, and when you finally shifted, that’s when he seemed to remember your presence, green eyes landing on you with a quickness that made you freeze up, as if trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Your scream rang throughout the bathroom when he lunged for you.

Roman’s bloody face was all you could focus on as he hovered over you, pushing his cock into you over and over again. Every time his hips met yours, your chest arched up against his, back curving and eyes rolling. Roman was so silent that you would’ve swore he was possessed, but there was an awareness in his green gaze that told you he was anything but.

His hands held yours down, dark brown hair hanging into his forehead. On the off chance that he smiled, it was a bloody one, and it scared you more than anything. The bathroom floor was cool against your naked back, and through the haze of Roman’s assault, you realized—with reluctance—that the feel of his cock driving in and out of you was indeed helping with your cramps.

The inside of your thighs were a bloody mess, much like his face, and as disgusting as it was, it was the least of your worries. Roman was a lot of things, annoyingly arrogant above all else, but you never pegged him for a rapist. A freak, maybe, yes, but a rapist? No. The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in the bathroom, and so focused on the feel of him plunging into you, you couldn’t even pinpoint when the storm had ended.

You cried out, tears spilling over as you pressed your hands against the hood of his car. You kept trying to push yourself up, but Roman’s determined hands kept shoving you back down. The moon was hidden by the clouds, no visible light shining down on his assault, a hand of his twisted at the nape of your neck.

You pressed your nails against his vehicle, and that was when he yanked you back, lips at your ear.

“Don’t scratch the fucking paint,” Roman spat, sounding very mad by the mere thought, and you insulted him several times over behind closed lips.

You’d tried to quit after that horrific stormy night in which Roman raped you on the bathroom floor. You’d given Olivia Godfrey every excuse in the book and tried to gently let Shelley down many times over, but the single matriarch simply wouldn’t hear it. She rolled her eyes in that coquettish way she tended to do, a soft smirk on her pink lips. Or she’d simply laugh you off, a sharp ‘nonsense’ soon to follow.

“Am I not paying you enough? Do you want more?”

“It’s not about the money,” you’d replied.

No amount of money in the world could possibly make up for the sick deviant that was her son.

After he came inside of you, breathless and satisfied, he’d dragged you crying and kicking all the way to his room. Any fight from you was immediately squashed down, and you didn’t know if Roman had snorted a few lines of coke or what, but no one was more shocked than you when he pushed you onto his bed, determined to continue what he’d started in the bathroom.

You’d been a dazed and abused mess when you snuck out in the early hours of the morning, half dressed and still bleeding. It hadn’t been Roman that came for you, but Olivia instead, talks of obligations and Shelley. No amount of refusal had deterred her, and you got the strangest feeling that the older woman fully knew the extent of just how her son felt about you.

You felt trapped.

By kind and sweet Shelley who broke your heart to leave, by Olivia who wanted to spoil her son with his new plaything of choice, and most of all by Roman who decided he had to have something once he wanted it. The last time you’d tried to quit, Olivia merely waved you off with a soft laugh, and when you turned around, none other than Roman had been at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

It was how you found yourself in his car, no choice but to let him drive you home. You hadn’t uttered a word to him since that night, and as you very well knew… Roman hated to be ignored. He was going to command your attention one way or another, and you hadn’t even heard him open his door after you, following close behind until his hands were on you and pushing you down onto his car.

Your forehead grazed the vehicle as he plunged his cock into you, stretching you out in your driveway for anyone to see. The embarrassment of such a thought was what kept you quiet, tears kissing your cheeks as you were forced to take his thrusts. His jeans were pulled down just enough to give him room to fuck you as he wanted, your own pants down around your ankles while he rutted into you.

When Roman came, he pressed his face into your hair, breathing you in with deep inhales. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, and you sniffed, shakily reaching up to wipe your face. Roman remained where he was for a few moments too long, just basking in the feel of you wrapped around him, and after some time, he let out a low chuckle.

It was a disturbing sound.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about this pussy since that night…” he breathed, finally pulling away.

You felt him right himself, and he was rough in doing the same to you, pulling your pants up. Once done, he rested his hands on your hips, remaining close and leaning in.

“Quit trying to quit,” he harshly said. “My sister really likes you, and if you hurt her feelings, I’ll make you choke on it.”

You stumbled back when he finally pulled away to make his way to the driver’s seat. You wrapped your arms around yourself, struggling to swallow as you accepted the truth in his words. You believed him wholeheartedly, and you trembled from more than just the cold as you watched him speed away in that fancy red car.

You knew that you wouldn’t be getting much sleep, and you hated how right you were when you were staring at your ceiling hours later. Like the day after that night, you’d scrubbed yourself until you felt raw, but even still, you could feel his hands on you. Those long fingers that were more reminiscent of spider legs than limbs.

Roman Godfrey was equally rotten inside as he was beautiful.

You discovered just how rotten only a week later when he was holding you down for the umpteenth time, a wicked smile on his lips just before leaning down. The sharp pain where your shoulder and neck met made you jerk beneath him, and beneath the cover of darkness, you just knew that the strong smell that hit your nose was blood.

You didn’t think it was possible for Roman to horrify you any more.

…but he did, and you screamed, and he only held you tighter. He was resting comfortably between your parted legs, fitting snuggly inside of you as he made a pulling sensation with his mouth. You squirmed beneath him, fighting and pushing back as much as you could, but he wasn’t deterred. You could feel his hips jerk, a gasp escaping you as he thrust into you to the hilt.

Your hands clawed at his bedding, the sound of tearing fabric reaching your ears above the low moans that left Roman. When he got his fill, you were a sobbing mess, reaching up to clutch your neck as he curved his hips into yours. You could feel some of your blood drip onto you from his mouth, and when his bloody lips met yours, you gagged.

Your disbelief was forced to be suspended with the unfortunate truth that was right in front of you. You didn’t really care about what was possible or not in that moment, only wanting to get away from him. Roman seemed entertained with your struggle, fighting with your hands as he fucked you, a tight grip on your wrist. The other hand danced down your body, light touches and skin grazes along the way.

“Look at me,” he murmured, drunk off the taste of you. “Look at me.”

His bloody hand on your face forced you to do just that, and his calm voice stopped you from shaking. Even in the dark, it was like his green irises were all you could see, and the color was so calming—so soothing—that when he told you to relax…you did.

You felt so at ease as he slowly thrust into you, pulling out until only the tip of him remained before pushing all the way back in again. The feel made you sighed, and Roman sighed too, a soft hum escaping him. Deep in the back of your mind, you were still terrified of the dark-haired boy, but despite that, you just felt so calm.

“Good,” he softly purred. “Good girl.”

One of his hands rested on the headboard above you, the other pressed into the pillow beside your head. You were so relaxed that all you could do was stare up at him as he surged over you again and again, retreating with every pull of his hips and driving forward with every thrust. Relaxed, you were more able to focus on the sound of his cock sinking into you, the squelching noise reaching your ears as your body fought to cling to him and keep him from leaving each and every time.

Dazedly, you reached up to touch your neck again, the smell of blood strong, and as you lifted your hand to look at it, Roman leaned down to cover your fingers with his mouth. The hum that met your ears was one of appreciation, and when you came for the first time that night, you were met with another.

“You’ve had enough?” he wondered, hand pressed into your stomach as he drove his hips against yours. “…or you want more from daddy?”

His voice was low and gruff, strained with emotion as he basked in the tight and warm feel of you. It didn’t really matter what your answer would be for Roman had already decided to fuck you well into the night as he wished. When you came for a final time, his hands were leaving bruises into your hips, and you were ripping his sheets apart.

The woods of Hemlock Grove seemed extra thick and hazardous tonight, as if it was their sole purpose to slow you down and trap you for him.

Bite marks and bruises littered your skin for months before you finally cracked. Months of walking into The Godfrey Mansion with fear, tutoring Shelley and distracted the entire time by thoughts of Roman. Wondering when he’d come to collect you, what corner he might pop out of, when you might feel the brush of his touch along your shoulder. You didn’t stay for dinner anymore, unable to sit across from Roman and have him stare you down as he reminisced on the feel of you coming around him, bleeding and broken.

Olivia Godfrey pretended not to notice Roman shadowing you like a ghost, like a grim reaper come to collect what he felt he was owed. She smiled that coy smile and waved around those waifish arms, all the while nursing a cigarette or a drink, fully aware of what her spoiled son got up to under the cover of darkness when no one could see your abuse at his hands.

Your last period had been your last straw, shuddering at the memory of Roman keeping you prisoner on top of him as he ate you out so long that it started to grow painful at some point. When he finally sank into you—in more ways than one—you couldn’t even try to enjoy it, too overstimulated to the point where you kept trying to get away.

Roman was sound asleep when you ran.

…but he was wide awake in time to run after you.

You truly didn’t even know where you were going, so set on just getting away from the terrifying boy that you just let your feet carry you. The biting air cut at your skin, and the leaves crunched beneath you. It was only moments ago when his voice had rang through the trees, your name bouncing off of the trunks as he desperately called for you.

“I can smell you!”

That fact did not deter you, sure that you could escape him. Every whip of a branch cut into you, and you knew the blood that you felt was the very same blood he smelled. The steep inclines and downward slopes of Hemlock Grove slowed you down, tiring you out, and your chest hurt from your harsh sobs. You had just pulled yourself up a small hill when you fell to the ground.

You were not alone.

“Y/N,” Roman snarled, a guttural edge to his voice that made you cry harder. “Get back here!”

He screamed it so passionately and loudly that it actually made you wince, and your vision was blurred from your tears as you clawed at the ground, fighting to get away from him. His fingers dug into your pants, preventing you from moving as much as you wanted, and despite the fact that you knew no one would come, you screamed for help when he crawled up your body.

He slammed your head into the ground, impulsively, and you saw stars in your vision. He succeeded in what he wanted, halting your movements for a time as you fought to collect yourself. In that time, Roman had already covered your frame, chest completely pressed down on your back. His hand closed around your throat, pulling your head back some.

“Don’t be stupid,” he roughly told you, lips at your ear. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”

You clawed at the dirt and leaves as his other hand reached beneath you, sliding into your pants with ease and cupping you. He made a noise of appreciation at the feel, and as Roman told you that you’d never escape him, he sank his teeth into your neck.

In your despair, you accepted this truth.

#roman godfrey #roman godfrey x reader #hemlock grove #roman godfrey fic #roman godfrey imagine

2K notes · View notes

doobea · 6 months

Text

BORN TO MAKE HISTORY - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: After his brother takes a nasty fall and calls out before the new season starts, Rin has to step up as your new figure skating partner.

✰ ✰ ✰જ⁀➴ PLAYLIST.

contents: an ice skating au fic (very much yuri on ice inspired), fem!reader, ice skating terms and irl figures thrown around but not that super important, lmao probably inaccurate depictions of figure skating, sfw, kinda enemies to lovers but its really just rin being anti-social and cold, sae is a decent brother in here, characters are in their early-mid 20s, talks about ISU grand prix, mentions of mental health (depression, anxiety, burn out, imposter syndrome), heavy narration, rin centric, multiple parts will be added but no set scheduling of course word count: 4.3K (sigh there will be more) a/n: you know... whenever i feel like i hit a writer's block... thinking about rin always helps me break out of it so thank u...

For as long as Rin can remember, he's always followed in his brother's footsteps.

Whatever that meant being interested in the same shows, books, and sometimes even hobbies, Rin would always be one step behind. It was a long-time habit that he picked up ever since he was little. There was a small running joke that if you wanted to find Rin, all you needed to do was find Sae. If anyone were to ask him why, he would probably shrug and refuse to answer, though his parents would gush on about how much he looks up to his older brother, and… it’s not a complete tall tale.

His brother is talented and not in a ‘he can totally balance a stack of rocks in one try’ type of talented—though Rin is pretty sure that Sae can do that—but in a ‘he’s born with a natural gift to be absolutely perfect at everything he touches’ type of talented. So, regardless if Rin is always one step behind his brother, he knows deep down that it will always be Sae standing on the very top of the podium with a gold medal around his neck.

Sae delved into figure skating at the age of eight, and Rin quickly followed suit. It began on a family night in, the brothers gathered around their small, worn-out television, fixated on the Winter Olympics in muted colors. Although ice skating initially served as mere background noise while their mother knitted, they both felt an undeniable pull.

Rin was only thirteen when he first won silver at his junior debut competition. In that same year, Sae also moved up to the senior-level groups and gave his first professional appearance during the Japan Figure Skating Championships. Unsurprisingly to no one, Sae effortlessly won gold, putting the whole world on notice and overtaking the competition by over 40 points. From that moment forward, Sae was recruited by an international coach and was sent aboard to different training facilities.

It burned in Rin’s memories of all the irregular Facetime calls they would have of Sae giving him a walking tour of the cities he stayed in. New York was too loud and bright. Chongqing felt like something out of a fairytale and a cyberpunk city at the same time. Saint Petersburg was too cold but Sae liked grabbing pirozhki from a street food vendor before practice every morning. Despite being only two years older, he sometimes felt like he was worlds away from his brother’s place.

Still, after everything, Rin looks up to him. It doesn’t bother Rin that he’s always ‘second best’—according to those poorly written sports magazines—because this is something they can bond over, something that only they can understand.

And maybe this is Rin’s motivation to eventually surpass him.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t go exactly how he imagines it.

“You’re going to sub in for me.”

Sae is sitting up on his bed, his right leg bandaged tightly all the way up to his knee, and he’s saying this with his usual straight-laced expression. Their mother has always complained about being unable to read Sae’s emotions and Rin always thought it was pretty amusing growing up. But now, he finally understands what his mother was talking about.

Rin straightens his back in his seat, a colorful plastic chair from their childhood that’s now too small for a person his size, and almost drops his phone. “Did you hit your head too?”

His brother rolls his eyes and continues, “I know you’re taking a break this season but I promised one of my juniors that I would compete with them. Luckily,” and he points to his injured leg, “this isn’t a permanent issue but I think it’ll also be good for you.”

Sae’s injury happened during practice overseas at a training facility in Madrid. It’s a mild ankle and knee sprain from overexertion and stress factors from jumping too often. He was treated briefly before their parents suggested flying back to Japan to fully recover. It’s not uncommon for skaters to suffer from these types of injuries but why does Sae feel the need to bring Rin into this?

During last year’s Grand Prix Final, Rin had barely finished in the top ten. He fumbled with his short program and free skate, failed to land his quad jumps three times, and had a sloppy step sequence, both of which were supposed to be his strong suits. That day, he didn’t bother joining his coach at the kiss and tell, ignored all the swarming paparazzi self-proclaimed journalists, and uninstalled every social media app on his phone. His fans, coaches, and his family were all concerned as to how someone like him was able to fall that low compared to his higher-than-average stats. Rin had blamed it on something he can’t even remember, maybe a stomach bug, he thinks.

Obviously, that wasn’t the case, everyone could see right through the lie but not entirely the truth of it. News outlets flooded the market with headlines shaming him for not living up to his older brother’s standards, not being a good representative for his nation, and that it was all karma for having an ‘unbearable’ personality to work with. His coaches retired after his flimsy performance and all but two of his sponsorships dropped him. Rin hasn’t officially given out a statement regarding anything.

Depression is a hell of a thing to deal with. Rin’s dealt with it in the past when Sae first moved aboard. Luckily, Sae is perceptive to this kind of thing. The daily calls helped, despite the harsh timezone differences, and eventually Rin was able to move past it. The reality of it though, is that depression never really fades away, it’s almost like an addiction. Sometimes it takes hold in a moment of weakness, one that Rin doesn’t even realize he has until it’s too late. Maybe it’s all the rigorous training, all the comparisons to his brother—he tries not to think too much about it.

He didn’t know when the feeling hit him or why it decided to affect him that day.

For the past several months, he’s been spending time gliding around their local ice rink, teaching some kids on the side to keep his mind preoccupied because, if not that, then he’ll probably end up laying in his bed all day. It works and it’s at least a healthy distraction but, at the same time, he can’t shake the gnawing feeling in his chest every time someone mentions his last performance.

Rin feels like he’s hit a wall. A thick, towering, uninviting wall. And he doesn’t know if he’s ready to face his baggage yet.

“I’m not going to do that.” He finally answers and watches as his brother’s face stays unfazed.

“I need you to.” Sae presses on. “You need to get out of whatever rut you’re in. You’re not happy and going back might help. Forget about competing in singles and join pairs.”

Sae might be talented in everything else but, like Rin, he’s bad at choosing his words and comforting. Rin knows what he means though and he can’t exactly blame him. He’s lost weight, most of it being muscle, and whenever he does get back from work, Rin holes up in his room playing horror games all night long. Rinse and repeat.

At least there’s a level of concern and sincerity behind Sae’s tone, unlike the vulture-like glee from the tabloid reporters.

“I’m…” Rin’s throat feels heavy all of a sudden and he struggles to find an excuse.

Instead of answering, he fixates his attention back to his phone, it’s a news article about Sae’s injury and his withdrawal from the skating season. The article also has a photo of you posing next to his brother, elbow resting on his shoulder while your other hand raises a peace sign towards the camera. Rin hasn’t heard much about you, not that he actively keeps up with any of his competitors, but Sae has mentioned your name here and there before since you both share the same coach.

From what Rin knows, you started skating around the same age as him. You won a few local competitions and managed a bronze medal in the women’s singles category during the Japan Skating Championships. Supposedly, this year you’re attempting to take a shot at qualifying for the Grand Prix Final for pairs. With Sae out of the picture, Rin really hopes the responsibility doesn’t fall on him.

The look that Sae is currently shooting at him is making him backtrack his thoughts.

“It’ll be good for you,” his brother reiterates. Sae scoots closer to the edge and plucks the phone out of Rin’s grasp. “Plus, I already told her that you would do it.”

Rin’s eyes widen. “You did what?”

Sae hums, and taps his fingers away at the screen, before handing it back to him with your contact information placed in. “She’s actually on her way over here.”

“I haven’t even—”

Sae throws a hand up. “No, you don’t get a choice, Rin.”

Despite being three years younger than Sae, you had no issues barging into his room, suitcase in hand and hair in a frenzy. Rin is still seated, having to process his brother’s ridiculous request and now having to make himself semi-presentable to you. He also eyes the suitcase because… there’s no way that you’re actually staying with them right?

“Hope the flight here wasn’t too rough,” His brother starts casually.

Your cheeks are puffed out, eyes slightly baggy from the presumably restless flight, and you let out an exasperated sigh. “I hope you know that I didn’t tell coach about any of this.”

“Any of what?” Sae asks slowly. Now Rin is internally panicking.

Your eyes fall on him and they sparkle in recognition for a brief moment before you turn your attention back to his brother. “Um, that I flew all the way from Madrid to Tokyo?”

“I thought you said he approved of it.” Sae looks visibly annoyed.

You give a sheepish shrug and try to smile. “Yeah, I might’ve lied a bit.” It looks like you can’t decide if you want to be embarrassed by this fact or want to burst into tears.

Now it’s Sae’s turn to sigh. “Well, you’re already here so there’s no point. I’ll come up with something if Ego asks.”

You’ve made yourself practically at home within the next hour. Sae had told you that you could transform their home office space into your bedroom for the next several months in preparation for the competition, much to Rin’s protests. Right now, your makeshift living space composes of a shitty air mattress that Rin had in his closet since childhood and one of Sae’s extra pillows and blankets. You still need an actual mattress and a bedframe, and Rin doesn’t know if he wants to suggest the local hardware shop down the street. Because, if he does do that, it’ll mean he’ll be accepting his fate for the next upcoming year.

“Are you guys both hungry for dinner? I can whip up something real quick!” You’re saying this as if you’ve been living with them forever. It throws Rin off but Sae is unphased by your informality.

“Pork katsu curry sounds nice.” Sae muses from the living room couch. He’s streaming a figure skating compilation video from the previous Winter Olympics on the TV while jotting down some notes on his phone. “Why don’t you help her out, Rin?”

“Do I have to?”

“Yeah,” and Sae lifts his eyes away from the screen to give him a knowing look. “You have to.”

Three protein shakes. A pack of half-eaten grapes. And two boxes of forgotten leftovers from god knows how long ago. There’s not much in Rin’s fridge. His parents have been traveling around the world ever since he got back and usually, Rin would just get himself takeout to save some time. When he rummages through his pantry, he almost feels embarrassed by how barren it feels. A box of cup ramen, some curry cubes, and a small bag of rice on the bottom. It would honestly be better just to order takeout than to bother cooking up something less satisfying.

“We should—”

“Let’s go to the store!” Of course, you offer that up. Rin can feel his shoulders immediately tensing when he sees you grabbing your jacket and wallet.

Sae throws him another penetrating gaze and Rin recedes. “Give me a second.” And maybe a drink or two.

You’re the complete opposite of what Rin expected.

Bright, bubbly, and almost downright annoying. It reminds him of how he used to act when he was younger.

The first few minutes of the walk are silent not because Rin doesn’t know what to say but because he doesn’t want to say anything. His mind drifts off to an MMO he’s been currently playing with two of his ‘friends’ that he made during his last competition — if you count only exchanging numbers for the sake of playing games and talking about nothing else. That’s what friends do, right? It’s evening and, if it weren’t for Sae and you, he could be online right now, clearing a dungeon with them. This week is a double drop event and he’s going to miss out on it because you want to buy katsu curry ingredients.

After passing the third block in the neighborhood, you start to see a few local shops and grocery stores lined up down an alleyway. There are more locals around, some are walking their dogs, others sweeping the sides of their house entrances. You decide to take this time to finally talk to him.

“Who’s your favorite skater?” It comes out as a blurt like you’ve been holding it in.

Rin blinks. “What kind of question is that?”

“A normal one,” You pick up a small shopping cart by the entrance and make a beeline towards the produce section. “Plus it can tell you a lot about a person.”

Can it really? “You first then,” Rin tells you.

You answer without much thought, throwing a couple of apples and potatoes into the cart. “Has to be Nathan Chen! He’s super bold and flashy with his programs.” He’s heard of him before, Rin thinks he’s around the same age as his brother.

“Yuzuru Hanyu.” He answers right after.

You make a noise, and Rin assumes it’s a good one by the way you’re smiling. “I can definitely see that, he’s really elegant when he skates.”

The two of you fall silent again but it’s a bit bearable. You finish off by buying pork, onions, and a few soft drinks before heading over to the self-checkout. Rin pays for the entirety of the grocery run since it’s mainly his fault for having an empty fridge. If he had kept up with a healthier lifestyle then maybe he wouldn’t be in this current mess.

Dinner, for all things considered, doesn’t go horribly. It’s been months since Rin has picked up a knife, let alone use his cutting board, and you’re nice enough to show him how to properly score meat. And yeah, he just learned what scoring meant outside of sports. He’s learning a lot today.

Adding apple chunks to the curry really made an immense difference. Tastes a lot sweeter but also comforting. The pork comes out crispy and tender enough for him to easily bite through and practically melts on his tongue. Maybe he should get back into cooking soon.

Sae wipes his mouth before setting down his utensils. “I’ve also taken the liberty to coach you guys too, so don’t let me down.”

You blink. Rin looks like he’s going to drop his fork on his plate. He seems to catch himself though, and for just a moment. Your heads both tip to the side, and there’s a strange moment of eye contact, one where you are nervously glancing at Sae, and Sae is caught in a strange back-and-forth with Rin.

Yeah, Rin is learning more today compared to the average person.

The next day at the ice rink is a surreal experience for Rin. A year ago, when he did skate professionally, he was used to practicing alone or occasionally sharing the rink with a few other skaters, but now there's a new dynamic—a pair dynamic. You and him. The thought alone sends shivers down his spine, and not the good kind.

Sae is sitting on the side, his injured leg propped up on a chair, and he's observing with a critical eye. Rin can feel the pressure, not just from the expectation of his brother, but also from the fact that you're now involved. His comfort zone has been invaded.

“Let's start with some basic warm-up moves,” Sae suggests, and Rin reluctantly nods.

The two of you glide on the ice, trying to synchronize your movements to a random classical tune that his brother placed on shuffle. Claire de Lune—he’s warmed up to this song plenty of times before. It's awkward at first, the pacing and speed is off, and you’re both too tensed to initiate physical contact.

“You need to trust each other,” Sae instructs, his voice echoing in the cold rink.

Rin shoots him a dirty glare. Trust has never been his strong suit, especially not with someone new.

You decide to break the ice, quite literally, by attempting a lift. Rin braces himself as you come at him with speed, and then, in a moment that feels like slow motion, he lifts you off the ground. Success. You're now spinning in the air, and Rin is holding his breath, hoping he doesn't drop you.

“That was good, Rin!” you exclaim when you land back on the ice.

He's slightly out of breath, both from the physical exertion and the anxiety that came with it. “Yeah, great,” he mutters, avoiding eye contact.

After what seems like an eternity, Rin begins to find a rhythm. It's still not perfect, he’s not used to skinship so he can tell his grip around you is either too firm or barely there. Sae’s a rough teacher and quite possibly the king at micromanaging, the two of you bond quietly over the fact. Rin also learns that you’re pretty good at hydroblading and the Biellmann spin. Well, you’re pretty good at a lot of things. He’s surprised that you haven’t tried out for more international competitions prior.

By the end of the day, both of you are exhausted—well, you look fine, it’s more like Rin feels like his quads are about to burn off. This is the most he’s done physically and with his career in the last several months. Sae, with his usual unreadable expression, nods approvingly.

“You’ve got potential,” he comments, and Rin is unsure if it's a compliment or just a statement of fact. “So, what’s the theme?”

Right. They need to figure out that first before deciding on anything else. Rin has always struggled with coming up with themes and settles with essentially the same one every year since he feels comfortable with it. The past years he’s played around with ‘solitude’, ‘dormant’, and ‘night’—and all of his programs contained dark, moody instrumentals that went along with it.

You’re shuffling awkwardly by the benches, fiddling with your gym bag, and raise a hesitant hand. “How do we feel about ‘love’?”

Rin tightens his lips. “Isn’t that kind of vague?”

“Weren’t all of your themes the same?” Sae shoots back and it makes him quiet. “What songs did you have in mind?”

You’re quick to pull out your phone, a playlist pops up with songs that you’ve either wanted to skate or skated to. The song choices aren’t bad, most of them being soundtracks from musicals and pop artists.

“This Love.”

Rin lets out a loud scoff. “Guess you’re into that sappy stuff.” He remembers one of his skating colleagues was floating around the idea of skating to that song when they first jumped into a relationship but decided to shelve it once they found another person.

“It’s a good song,” You say with a huff, to which Rin only rolls his eyes.

“Guys,” Sae claps his hands three times, a signal that Rin recognizes from his earlier childhood days of basically saying ‘shut the fuck up’. “I need you to work together.”

Your index finger jabs into Rin’s ribcage. He manages to hold back every fiber in his body to not yell at you, especially not when Sae is staring right at him. “If you’re going to make a comeback, I think maybe you should get back on social media again to promote!”

“I’ll sleep on it.” He says with a clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

“We’ll see you later back home, gonna do a couple of laps around the neighborhood before we end the night.” You’re lacing up your sneakers while Sae grabs his car keys. Rin assumes his brother is just going to be ‘encouraging you’ from the driver’s seat. Classic big brother move.

“Sure thing,” It’s the tone that says he’s decided. He’s done. End of discussion. Rin just really wants to lay in his bed right now.

As he walks home, Rin mulls over your suggestion and decides to reinstall some of his social media apps. Surprisingly enough, he still remembers his passwords (he definitely does not have the same password for everything, nope) and immediately logs onto Instagram, fighting back the weird twists and turns in his stomach as the app slowly loads.

There are maybe over a hundred notifications in his DMs, most of which are from random strangers giving half-assed ‘advice’ on how he can be a better skater and some messages from people he’s skated against asking how he was doing. He starts from the bottom of his inbox and recognizes a few of their usernames.

itsyoiboi — sent ten months ago are you doing alright? let me know if you need anything

hyo.chigiri — sent nine months ago Just checking up on you. Coach told me that you left.

megugu_skates— sent nine months ago (。┰ω┰。) rinrinrin!! dont tell me ur quitting for good?? =͟͟͞͞ =͟͟͞͞ ﾍ ( ´ Д `)ﾉ (⋟﹏⋞) u have to come back!!

baroushouei — sent eight months ago Hey, get your head out of your ass. We’re all worried about you.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Rin semi-appericates the sentiment but he didn’t ask for it. He doesn’t need any of them checking up on him for the sake of it. None of them were ever close to him so why bother?

He eventually reaches back to the top of his inbox. What Rin didn’t expect was to see a message from you.

yn.is.here — sent a week ago um hi there!! sorry we haven’t officially met before but your brother said you’ll be able to help me compete in skate pairs?? he told me that you’re thinking about coming back this season. sorry if this comes off as weird!

Ugh, of course, his brother would plan this whole thing behind his back. It doesn’t surprise him, and it explains why any of this is happening.

When he finally gets back home, he kicks off his shoes and heads straight to his bedroom. Rin plops and eases his back into the mattress, thumb rummaging through his photo album and trying to find a dumb professional photo to post on his page for stupid promotion purposes. He’s about to pick out an old photo from nearly two years ago when your text notification pops up. You sent over ten attachments—guess Sae took photos and videos from today’s practice run.

Rin shifts through the options before settling on a photo with the two of you in it. You’re both gliding side by side, hands barely touching. He looks scruffy, well he looks scruffy in all of them, the smile he tried to make came out more like a scowl, while you look like a complete natural—what’s new? On top of his skating, Rin needs to work on smiling and his skincare routine next.

Rin uploads the picture with a simple caption, ‘im back’, and turns off his notifications. He’ll worry about the lousy reporters tomorrow morning.

[DISCUSSION THREAD] Rin Itoshi's Icy Resurgence, Unraveling the Mystery Girl, and the Journey Without His Brother by [MOD] Dooby

In the world of figure skating, Rin Itoshi is no stranger to both triumphs and challenges. The seasoned skater, known for his graceful performances and technical prowess, recently made headlines by returning to the ice after a brief hiatus. Taking the place of his brother in the figure skating pairs category, Rin has partnered with the talented and rising star, Y/N, to form an unexpected yet promising duo.

[yurio.fan.cl0b] - 17 minutes ago he’s going to make an embarrassment out of himself AGAIN just go back into hiding [VICChan] - 15 minutes ago Lololol he thinks that piggybacking off another skater it’ll guarantee a gold medal lolol who is even y/n anyway… never heard of her???? [porkkatsu] - 14 minutes ago shes a nobody just like rin *shrugs* [ISAGINUMBERONE] - 12 minutes ago ^ been a rin itoshi fan since day one — i believe that he’ll make a great comeback!! rin if you’re reading this please ignore the haters! [itsJJStyleX0X0] - 9 minutes ago are you actually an idiot? there’s no way that they’re going to take gold, not at the level he’s currently at. compared to his brother, rin’s past performance was sloppy and weak. if he’s going to win gold then he’ll probably end up doping himself [SaeItoshisWIFE] - 7 minutes ago Can we please refrain from spreading rumors like this? Doping is a serious accusation to make…

next rink!

a/n: ok... i meant to keep this in my drafts until i finish it but then i realized it would've been like... way too long with the number of scenes i wanted to write.... so here's some content until the next part bleh >:(( i need to fixate on one project at a time but at the same time i love sharing stuff w you guys haha

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x female reader #heavily inspired by yuri on ice duh #rin is katsuki yuri here (kinda)#also posted during the grand prix figure skating comp!!#cw: depression #cw: mental health

554 notes · View notes

somanyratsinthewalls · 5 months

Note

omg I am a SUCKER for the one bed trope 😭 with sanji, please? 🙏🏼

congrats on 300 followers!! 🎉 you deserve it all and more! 💕

S A M E ! I'm such a loser it's my FAVORITE TROPE!

Pairing: Sanji x afab!reader

WC: 15000

Prompt: "We aren't sharing a bed. I'll sleep on the floor."

Pairing: Sanji x Afab!Reader

Prompt: “We aren’t sharing a bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

— —

*wheeze*

“No, no please! Tell me again, HOW exactly you beat that sea king?” You laugh out while you clutch your beer to your chest on your barstool.

“See this? It’s a very special exploding star! And you just-“ Usopp grabs a small bundle out of his satchel and moves to show you while you wipe tears from your eyes.

“Wait I thought I slammed the thing and we ate it for dinner last night?” Your sweet, naive captain chimes in as he over hears your conversation with sniper at the end of the bar.

“No, you’re remembering it wrong!” Usopp crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. You take another sip of your drink and snort. Another voice booms from the other end of the bar.

“You had the rest of the beast for lunch, and yes, Luffy punched it in the face.” Sanji slurped the rest of his red wine and placed his glass on the bar top.

“Well, if your stomach isn’t growling, we have our answer then?” You held back your giggles over the top of your beer glass as you looked at Usopp.

The rest of your crew surrounding you at the bar laughed.

— —

“You’re a fucking idiot you want to put Maldon salt in an apple pie?! Get off your fucking high horse!” You slurred your words as your pointed your beer bottle in Sanji’s chest.

“Mon cherie, I am not arguing with you tonight about the integrity of a pie crust.” Sanji smiles as he takes your hand on your beer in his and lowers it back down to the bar at your side. The rest of your crew had retreated to their rooms at the inn you had all chosen to stay at for the night… minus you, Sanji and Zoro.

“Holy shit… you guys are like… so boring?… woah…” Zoro claimed from his horizontal position on several barstools next to yours. You and Sanji were drawn out of your conversation and looked down at the blacked out swordsman.

“We should leave him here, right?” You smirked up at the blonde man in front of you.

“Obviously.” Sanji smiled as he reached out to grab your hand and helped you down from your tall bar stool. He leads you towards the innkeeper’s desk with your hand still in his.

“We’re part of the Straw Hats. We’d like our room keys, please.” Sanji politely says to the innkeeper.

The innkeeper shuffles through a large, leather bound book of reservations and stops on a certain page. “I-..I’m sorry sir bit it seems we only have one room left available.” The nervous innkeeper sputters out, afraid to offend a group of such powerful pirates.

“What? You’re telling me that you can’t-“ Sanji begins to become upset.

“That’s fine.” You interject. “No need to make a fuss.” You assumed it would be a typical room with twin beds and a couch. You and Sanji could sleep easily and if Zoro got his shit together he could end up on the sofa. You didn’t feel like fighting an elderly innkeeper in order just to have a private room to yourself. You were a pirate, there were much bigger issues in the grand scheme of things.

The innkeeper gave you a thankful smile and gave you the key to your room. You and Sanji head up the wooden stairs and arrive at the door of your room. Number 17. You turn the key in the lock and enter the candle lit hotel room. To your dismay there was one queen sized bed and no other large furniture in the room other than a bear skin rug.

You and Sanji stood in the doorway of your newly minted hotel room.

“Shit.” The both of you said together.

“We aren’t sharing a bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.” Sanji immediately retorts as he enters the room and begins stripping himself of his suit jacket. He takes it off and drapes it over the chair in the entryway of the room.

“Oh…. Uh… Ok…. I’ll get ready for bed then…” You head into the ensuite bathroom and prepare yourself for bed. You strip yourself to your panties, and take off your bra underneath your shirt after washing your face and brushing your teeth. After getting ready for bed, you exit the bathroom and quickly slide your body under the covers of the bed. Sanji awkwardly and wordlessly slides past you into the bathroom and you hear the shower start to run.

In the darkness of of the bedroom you lay back on the bed. You were just a bit drunk, you felt your head buzz as it hit the softness of your pillow. You listened to the sounds of the shower and couldn’t help but think about how close Sanji was to you, completely naked. Your mind wandered… You thought about how his blonde hair might plaster his forehead under the shower stream… you thought about how the soap would foam and drip down his toned abs… You felt yourself start to become wet… you slipped off your panties and discarded them somewhere underneath the covers.

Your right hand slid under the sheets and crept towards your cunt. Your delicate fingers began to circle your clit just the way you know you like and you breathed out in pleasure. You find yourself becoming lost in the pleasure when you hear the bathroom door swing open.

“Y/n?” Sanji emerged from the bathroom clad in just a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Oh! Sanji! Sorry I was… distracted….” You curl the covers up under your chin.

Sanji stands at the foot of the bed, seemingly assessing the situation in front of him.

“Y/n… were you… touching yourself?” Sanji cocks his head and asks you while standing over you.

“I… I was…” You sheepishly looked down at the top of the comforter, too embarrassed to make eye contact even in your drunken state. “Can we just forget about this?” You lifted your head.

“Y/n… I could… help… if you want? I mean… you probably didn’t finish… right?” Sanji met your gaze.

Your stare met his and your mind went through a laundry list of better ideas before you settled on the act you chose to take next. You lifted your shirt over your head and leaned up towards Sanji and placed a chase kiss on his lips. Fully naked you pulled back from him.

“Fuck me, Sanji.” You whispered with his head in your hands.

At the speed of light, Sanji shed the towel and landed on top of you again. He smashes his lips into yours with a hunger you had never experienced. He pressed his tongue fervently into your mouth, like you’d never give him this opportunity again. You felt the velvet tip of his cock brush against your hot sex.

“Let me just put it in… please, y/n?” Sanji moves his lips to mewl into your neck as he nips and sucks at your nape. He begs you so cutely and desperately while he grinds his hard cock into your wet center, there’s no way you could say no.

“Please Sanji, want to feel you…” You move your right hand down to position his cock at your hole. You grope sensually at his cock and try to push it inside of you. “Sanji, want you inside of me, please…” You whimper out in his ear as he pushed his face further into your neck.

Sanji obliges and pushes himself balls-deep inside your waiting hole. He lets out a high pitched whine as he bottoms out.

“Y/n…” Sanji lifts his hands and starts pinching at your sensitive nipples below him. Sanji leans backwards and looks at your wrecked body beneath him, tight hole enveloping his throbbing cock. “Pretty girl needs to cum… let me help…” Sanji plants one hand on your hip and the other on your throat.

Sanji uses the thumb of his hand on your hip to stroke your clit and the applies pressure with the hand on your neck so that your airway is perfectly restricted.

“San-….. ji!….” You choke out against your lovers grip as you cum on his hand that was deeply stroking your sex. Sanji’s soft, deft fingers swirl around your clit and spasming, stuffed hole. The feeling of Sanji’s thick cock buried deep inside you and the stimulation from his hands on your bud was too much as you felt your eyes roll back into your skull…

“You’re so pretty mon Cherie, I want to cum in you baby…” Your head shoots up and Sanji slams his hips deeply into yours. “You’re mine now, sweetheart…”

Sanji plows his slender hips into yours as he cums deep inside your raw walls.

“Ah!-“ You squeeze and cream all over your lover, eliciting a pathetic whine from the spent lovecook who was still inside of you. You try to catch your breath and flop your head back on the pillow. Sanji gently pulls out of you and lays himself down next to you. You toss and turn on your stomach for a moment before settling in and Sanji moves to sit up.

“Let me clean you up, beautiful angel…”

“Can we just sleep tonight, this bed is really comfy…” You whisper as you stroke Sanji’s cheek, keeping him in bed with you.

“Im certainly glad I’m not on the floor, ma belle.” Sanji wrapped his arm around your torso and promptly began snoring.

xx Mo

#one piece #one piece anime #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #zoro x reader #law x reader #zoro x sanji #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji

207 notes · View notes

holdmytesseract · 10 months

Text

moodboard by @chennqingg <3

Rules To Break

Jotun!Prince!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Princess!Reader

Summary: Prince Loki of Jotunheim - son of King Laufey and heir to the throne is assigned to train a bunch of Asgardian men, in order to turn them into warriors. What happens when Odin's daughter, Princess Y/N crosses his paths in ways he would've never expected? While the Prince is completely unaware, the Princess struggles to keep up her several masquerades...

Warnings for this Chapter: fluff, bit of suggestive smut... I think that was it! Let me know if I forgot something!

Word Count: 2k

a/n: This is it, guys! The grand finale! 😁 I hope you all like it! ☺️

Divider by the lovely @fictive-sl0th 💚

Tagging: (in the comments!)

Ice Flower Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

You would've expected a lot of people to step inside your chambers. Estrid, your father, brother, guards - but you would've never expected to see the tall, bulky and handsome frame of the man who haunted your dreams and occupied your mind on no end - Loki. You couldn't believe your eyes at first, blinking heavily and literally staring holes into him. "L-Loki?" You asked in disbelief; quite shocked. You didn't know how to feel about this. Feeling the urge to yell at him on one side. To tell him to go away and never come back. You wanted to let him know how much you hated him. Spit it right into his face. Though, on the other side, you couldn't deny the way your heart skipped more than just one beat, when you laid your eyes upon him; or when he gave you that smile.

"Hello, princess Y/N." Loki started, taking a bow. "I am sorry for disturbing you and being so rude to just barge in - and I'm certain you wish to know why I am here at all." The moment his deep, yet soft voice urged to your ears, your memory immediately took you back to the lake all those weeks ago. Especially to that one night, where he kissed you. A tingly feeling spread all throughout your belly at that thought. "I-I... Yes." More words weren't able to leave your lips. You were way too overwhelmed by all those feelings and thoughts coursing through your system - and by his sudden appearance.

"Well, first of all, I... I would like to apologise. I am the reason you are trapped inside your chambers. I regret informing your father. I really do, but I-I had no other choice. You must understand this. I had my duties and obligations, unfortunately. So, I beg of you... Please forgive me, my princess." His kind and gentle words touched you. There was, without a doubt, honesty swinging within his voice, telling you that he really meant what he said. This wasn't one of his macho shows, no... That was him, showing you his probably most vulnerable side. You could feel that he was truly sorry, but... Could you forgive him? It was a difficult question, but then you remembered, how you actually lied to him. You didn't tell him who you were. You kissed Loki, without him even knowing that you were the princess. Hence, you almost slept with him. You put on a mask and more or less fooled him. So... Was it fair to be still angry at him, when he wasn't angry at you anymore? Both, you and him made mistakes.

You looked up to meet his ruby eyes, nodding. "I understand you, prince Loki. I forgive you - and I-I hope you can forgive me, too." The prince's lips twitched into a smile; visibly relieved. "I forgave you already a long time ago, Y/N." You couldn't help the blush, which spread over your cheeks; his charming smile causing your heart to skip another beat. But the look in his eyes told you, that this wasn't the only reason why he was here today.

"You, uh... You didn't just come all the way from Jotunheim to apologise, did you?" Loki chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I didn't. You are right," he said, stepping closer. Blinking, you frowned, as the prince reached for your hand and gently - almost cautiously; afraid to make a mistake - took yours into his big one, swallowing it whole. You were confused and yet you felt those butterflies within your belly again, as he touched you; never wanting him to let go, because it felt so good. So right. As if your hand belonged right there. You saw that he was quite a bit nervous - something very unusual for the usually so confident and sassy prince, you thought. You could've sworn you saw his heart beating against his bare chest, as his stunning eyes met yours once more. "Y/N, I... I just couldn't stop thinking about you the past weeks. I tried to occupy my mind; take my thoughts elsewhere, but... I couldn't. I think about you day and night. In fact, I find myself thinking about you even at the most inopportune moments of the day. I was blind at first, didn't know what was going on, but then I realised... I... I love you, Y/N. Ever since those nights we spent together at the lake. I fell in love - hopelessly, and... And for some reason I feel as if a link exists between your heart and mine, and should that link be broken, either by distance or by time, then my heart would cease to beat and I would die."*

His words echoed in your head, repeating themselves over and over again. Loki is in love with you. Loki loves you. He is in love with you. Hearing this, caused your heart to almost beat out of your chest. He loves you. You never anticipated, that he would ever feel the same. That you could be more to him than just an 'adventure'. Another fling. Nothing more. But now... Now he told you that he loved you - and the feeling was mutual. You didn't want to admit to yourself and neither to Estrid, but it was true. You knew that now. You loved him, too.

"I-I really hope that my heart didn't betray me and that you are feeling the sa-" You didn't let Loki finish his sentence. Enough talking, you thought and freed your hand from his gentle grasp, wrapping both your hands around his neck. Standing on your tiptoes, you pulled him down and silenced him with a kiss. The second your lips collided with his, fireworks exploded within you. It felt so good to finally kiss him again. So right. Like home... It felt like home.

Loki sighed into the kiss, relieved. That was all he needed to know, in order to ask you the important question, which was still lingering on his mind. But first, he enjoyed the kiss; unable to resist the urge to pull you closer. So, the prince did just that, wrapping his strong arms around you. "I take that as a yes then." Loki chuckled breathlessly, after letting go of your alluring lips. "You better will." He smiled; couldn't help but to kiss you again. It was more than clear, that you loved the prince truly and wholeheartedly - and yet, there was still nervosity running through his veins, given the fact that he still had to ask you the probably most important question of both, yours and his life. "There's... There's something else, darling..." Loki started, tracing the clothed skin of your hips with his thumbs. You looked at him expectantly; waiting patiently for him to continue to speak. "A question I have to ask you..." "You may ask, my prince. Whatever it is." He took a breath, eyes never leaving yours. "I really hope this isn't too bold to ask, but... Would you like to marry me, princess Y/N?"

You blinked, couldn't quite believe the words which had just left Loki's lips. "M-Marry you?" He nodded. "I know this is quite rushed, but yes. I really wish to marry you." "I-I..." "If you need more time or don't want to marry me, it's completely fine." You shook your head. "N-No! I... I do want to marry you! It's just so... surprising. I'm a bit overwhelmed." Loki's brows furrowed in compassion. "I'm so sorry, my love, for catching you off-guard." You squeezed his shoulders, giving him a soft smile. "It's the best surprise since years. I always wished to marry out of love - not because I had to. I just hope my father agrees to this..." "He does, my princess. I already talked to him; asked for your hand in marriage." Your eyes widened. "Y-You did?" "Yes. We have his blessing - and my father's blessing." A light-hearted giggle left your lips, as you felt happiness flooding your veins. Was this really just happening? Or were you dreaming? "So, we are going to get married?" "We are, darling. I'm never letting you go again. I don't want another prince to have you. It's time for me to make you mine."

"And that's how I met your father." You finished telling the love story of you and Loki to your eight-year-old twins, Áki and Váli. The boys were sitting on the fur, criss-crossed in front of you and the fireplace with wide eyes, hanging on your every word. Of course, you told the story more 'romantically' and left out the juicy, 'dirty' and 'dangerous' details, of course. They weren't meant for children's ears. "Wow..." Váli gasped. "So you are actually a warrior, mommy?" Asked Áki. You chuckled, running your hands through both boy's curls. "If you wish to call it that, yes." "Is that why daddy fell in love with you?" You had to suppress a giggle at your son's sweet, innocent question. "Perhaps, sweetheart, but I'm afraid you have to ask your father." "Ask me what?" You flinched as Loki's voice was suddenly echoing through your chambers. He had been away on royal duty for three days and had just come home.

"Daddy!" Both boys jumped up; excited to see their father again. "Hello, little princes." Loki smiled and squatted down, opening his arms for them to run into - what they did, of course. Your husband lifted them up easily, cradling each son in one arm. "I missed you." "I missed you, too, daddy," Váli whispered, cuddling closer to Loki.

Both boys didn't leave Loki's side from then on; clinging to him. He spent some quality time with his sons, of course, before he sent them to play outside a bit. He had missed his own flesh and blood, without a doubt - but he had also missed you.

"What was it Áki should ask me?" The king asked, wrapping both his arms around you, as you stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for the festive dinner tonight. You smiled at the mention of what you had told the twins. "Well, I was telling them our love story, because they asked me how I met you; being all curious about this and Áki was very enthralled by the fact that I was a 'warrior'. He asked me if you fell in love with me because of that... I told him to ask you." Loki chuckled. "So, you told them our fairytale-like love story?" "I did - but of course I left out certain... details." "Certain details?" "Yes... Certain details, which are not meant for children's ears." Your husband spun you quickly around in his arms; a cheeky smile spreading over his lips. He knew of course exactly what you were talking about.

"I should've devoured you back then." You looked up at Loki, giving him a playful frown. "I beg your pardon, my king?" Another low chuckle left his lips; hands dipping to skim the clothed skin of your hips. "Back at the lake. I should've ravished you. It wouldn't have been wrong, given the fact that I became your husband anyway." A loud giggle rumbled through your chest, causing Loki's heart to skip a beat. Oh how much he loved you. "Good point, my love, but we didn't know that back then. And we both know that we shouldn't have risked it. I did what was right." "I know, my sweetness, I know." "Besides, you didn't even know who I was." Your husband nodded. "That is true, but it wouldn't have mattered. Even if you had just been a maiden, working on a farm, I would've made you my princess. My wife. The mother of my children. My queen, you are the only woman I truly ever wanted. You being the princess of Asgard just played into our cards. Nothing more, nothing less." You wrapped both your arms around his neck, smiling and blushing. "I love you, my king. More than words can say."

* Disclaimer: The last line is actually a quote from Guillermo del Toro's 'Crimson Peak' and therefore isn't my writing. It belongs to Mr. del Toro. ☺️ I just found it very fitting.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x you #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fanfiction #loki x y/n #loki #loki laufeyson x reader #loki fluff #jotun loki x y/n #jotun loki x you #jotun loki x reader #jotun loki #jotunheim

224 notes · View notes

fan-goddess · 9 months

Text

Support for the Queen

Taglist: @sylas-the-grim, @valeskafics, @lovelykhaleesiii, @arcielee, @barbiedragon, @cyeco13, @lunaoieoie,

warnings: Viserys as a kind of shitty dad is mentioned, Brat taming, p in v sex, teasing, praise kink, for the first time ever there is spitting people, breeding kink at the end, also exhibitionism if ya squint,

This is based on this request here

Authors Note: there may be errors, I don’t really know. I tried as much as I could even though I did quite enjoy writing this :)

Series masterlist here

Aemond never actually realised how male dominated the chess world actually was before you’d came into both his life, and the life of the chess world.

Soon, he’d become an undefeated champion for years. None were willing to take a chance of an embarrassing defeat, and instead thought it was better for themselves to surrender their kings early like cowards. It was the same routine, utterly boring and pointless, until he finally met you.

His elder sisters had no interest in chess at all, even though his father had tried hard for years to change their minds. The effort his father went though was shocking to all his kids to say the least. The many varieties of chess sets that were purchased was extortionate, and so was the cost of all the grand chess masters that Viserys had hired to play matches in front of them to try and spark some type of interest. In the end, both attempts failed disastrously.

The most they interacted with one of these attempts was when Rhaenyra his eldest sister got a Barbie themed chess set for her birthday, with Barbie on the side of the whites and Ken on the side of the blacks. She took one look at it and couldn’t stop laughing at how ridiculous it was, much to his fathers annoyance. As according to Rhaenyra, he’d gotten the game custom made and supposedly cost him an absolute fortune.

His father had tried hard with his elder brother too, but like with his sisters, he also soon lost interest in the game. He become a burnout before he could even begin to be forced to compete in any competitions. The lucky bastard...

Viserys though hadn’t really tried with Aemond. Deeming his wish for a prodigy child already gone and hopeless. Though after Aemond had the accident, he’d found himself easily becoming bored just sitting in his hospital room. The crap tv was only showing the same six episodes of some lame kids show, and the lone window only displayed the reflective wall of a tall skyscraper.

Aemond doesn’t remember too much of the hospital, as he was constantly being pumped with some green pills that now he’s older, is surprised how the hospital found it fine to give to a ten year old.

But what he does remember, is that in the corner collecting dust was an old an old chess. It was practically gathering dust. The wood finish looked old and faded, and there were a couple pieces missing. Still, it was a better way to waste time than any else there.

A couple hours later, when Viserys had walked in on Aemond playing against himself, Aemonds “normal childhood” was over. As I’m Viserys eyes, he’d finally found that prodigy kid he so dreamed of to latch onto. From that moment, all Viserys had made him do was tournament after tournament.

It grew tiresome after a while though. As soon after he’d begun to properly compete, Aemond found himself becoming an undefeated champion in his league. None were willing to take a chance of an embarrassing defeat, and instead thought it was better for themselves to surrender their kings early like cowards. It was the same routine, utterly boring and pointless. That was until however, he’d finally met you.

You’d fascinated him since he first met you. The miniature jab you gave him when not even three seconds after looking at the board, and already you were predicting a move just like he could do. It wasn’t much, but it certainly made him begin that road of obsession.

Obsession over you. Obsession over your talent. He even found himself obsessing over the interviews that usually he’d tend to ignore. But after he met you, suddenly he’d find himself having the urge to check the chess monthly magazine, and any other type of news that studied chess, in every store just to see where you would pop up next and who’d you next defeat.

Plus, that little battle of the boards that he’d had with you those months after he’d beaten you. Those were fucking precious to him.

The obsession though didn’t even stop after the two or you had agreed to date.

At the current moment, he’s watching you once again be the only woman competing in this tournament. And once again, he’s watching you completely dominate the pathetic fucks who think just cause they have cocks, they can defeat you without much effort.

To be completely honest with himself, the way you were staring at your opponents with this look of just utter satisfaction and smugness, reminded him of himself. And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t turning him on a lot.

The little smirk you give the current guy you’ve just put in check, some fucker who looks like you’ve just insulted his mother to his face as you move a previously positioned knight, makes him so hard he feels like he needs to nip to the men’s bathroom to sort himself out.

But he knows that you look for him for support, as much you’ll refuse to say otherwise. And if he was to move and walk away from your match, it’d completely throw you off and make you believe you need those pills the two of you tried so hard to fight with for most of your lives.

His erection only worsens when you finish the match that’ll get you into the quarterfinals, and as you finish your handshake in a sportsmanship manner, you turn to him and wink before walking to your next match.

Aemond can’t help but chuckle in amusement as he looks at your swaying hips. You definitely had to be riling him up on purpose by now. There had to be no way that you hadn’t realised the reason behind why he was positioned awkwardly on his chair as he sat himself down on another seat, to watch you once again dominate the competition.

The next few times though that he’s forced to move to watch your next match, his hands are awkwardly positioned in front of his throbbing dick in a poor attempt at keeping it hidden. Though by the way you turn to him before you start the finals and look down with a bemused smile, it official confirms to him that you now know just how much you were effecting him by your cockiness.

By the end, after you’ve shaken hands with some Belgian fucker looking like sour milk, Aemond feels his instincts working before his head. You’ve barely held the small champion trophy and cheque that they’ve given you, before he’s handing them to a bemused Baela whose been watching the match with him, and dragging you into some abandoned store cupboard and forcing you to sit on a desk that looks as if it’d fall any second.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snap while Aemond himself chuckles in amusement. You’re cocky act has seemingly fallen into brattiness, yet even while you do it he can see the way your eyes drift down to his crotch where his jeans don’t do well to hide the prominent bulge straining against the denim fabric.

“You princess. You’re my problem.” Is all he says before he’s connecting his lips to yours, and the wet sound of your kissing surrounds the room as it seemingly grows hotter.

At first, Aemond focuses solely on taste of your lips. The lips that currently taste a mixture of the small vodka shot you downed befofe the match and the strawberry lip balm that drives him fucking crazy. But while he’s thinking about how perfect and good you are for him, the feeling of your hand trying to undo his zipper, and you sticking your hand down the front of his jeans to fondle at his erection, breaks him out of his love spell.

The deep groan that rumbles from him is muffled by your lips, and when he pulls away, he smirks at the small you you let out.

“Oh I see! The little brat wants her winning prize…” He smiles as he pulls up at your dress to reveal your soaked underwear. When he pulls that down slowly and teasingly, Aemond nearly groans out loud at the sight of your dripping core all layer for him. All pretty, waiting and desperate for him to fill it.

The sight makes him want to get on his knees and see if you’ll taste as sweet as your lip balm. But as much as Aemond wants to feel your arousal on his tongue, already practically salivating at the thought of tasting you, his erection aches painfully straining at the fabric, reminding him of what you were doing to him minutes previous.

So instead, Aemond only teases you with the pad of his thumb, before moving away before you could finish on his digit. He relishes cockily in the harsh glare you give him, and stands to his full height and brings his jeans and underwear low enough to free himself from his denim restraint.

Aemond can’t help himself from chuckling at the sight of you staring lustfully at him, and so he wastes no time in pushing himself inside of you, and relishing in the high pitched whine you let out before he’s forced to cover you mouth with his hand to quieten you down.

As he thrusts desperately inside of you, he can feel the air of your breaths hurry into pants through his hand as he speeds up to purposefully bully that rough spot inside of you that he knows you love. He can hear you whisper something into the skin within the base of his palm, and releases you mouth from his grasp to hear it.

“Please Aemond! Please let me cum!” You whine as you dig your nails into the skin of his back that you’re able to reach from under his shirt.

“Awe… does my pretty prodigy want to cum?” It’s cruel for him to tease you, he knows it for a fact, and yet it’s so strangely satisfying to do so. His movements dramatically decrease to a snail like pace, and he has to burrow his head into the curve of your shoulder to hide his smile when he hears you whine in annoyance. Like a child when she hears her mum won’t buy her a lollipop…

“You’re such a dick Aemond!” You growl. His head immediately takes itself away from your skin, and his grip on you tightens. When he looks into your eyes, his eyebrows furrows in annoyance, and he can already see the hint of regret on your face as his own turns stony.

“What did you just say?” He murmurs. He can see the way your eyes widen slightly at his calm demeanour, but both he and you know he’s nothing but calm at the moment.

“Come on princess use your words for me now. What did you just say to me?” One of his hands moves to grab ahold and tighten on your jaw, forcing you to make eye contact with him as he moves forward and effectively leans forward to tower over you. If Aemond had any idea on how you were feeling at the sudden atmosphere shift of the room, by the look on your eyes alone, he’d say you were aroused. Very aroused, if the sudden increased wetness he felt meant anything to go by.

An idea comes to mind, and a satisfied smirk appears on Aemonds face as a single thumb of his wedges it’s way into your mouth, and to his amusement, you don’t even need instructions before you begin to suck diligently at the digit with hooded glazed eyes.

“Good girl…” He purrs. “Open your mouth wide now.” And when you do as he says, he wastes no time before collecting some spit on his tongue, and letting it drip from his onto yours. “Now swallow.”

When you do, much to his sadistic amusement, Aemond proceeds to roughly thrust back into you to bully that spot of yours once more. The grip on your body tightening again as he moves and his hips begin to dig slightly into your own.

Soon, once more, the sounds of his and your fucking filled the space of the room. Aemond doesn’t even bother to cover your mouth this time. Let them hear… he thought. Let them hear you being fucked good and proper by him, just as it should be…

You cum around his cock suddenly while he’s thinking, and the sounds of your pleasure go high pitched as your grip on him with your nails leaves small indents into the skin on his back.

Aemond knows that you’re currently on birth control. Both he and you had agreed when you’d agreed to date each other that kids weren’t what two highly successful chess players needed at this time, especially when you were that early in your own career.

Yet as Aemond cums inside of you with a low and deep groan, he can’t help but think about what would happen if his seed actually took. What would happen if a couple months later, he’d be able to lazily stroke a hand over your swollen stomach and think to himself, he did this to you.

215 notes · View notes

vivalabunbun · 1 year

Text

History Might Have Forgotten

Summary: A new storyteller appears at Alhaitham’s favorite cafe, and you seem to like to pick his brain about reading between the lines.

Word count: 4.2k (The longest one I’ve ever written)

Tags: gn reader x alhaitham, sfw, slow burn, lore heavy (kinda), spoilers for archon quest, just alhaitham being difficult to get along with as usual. Kaveh just here for moral support. I did use in-game dialogue from their post on the cafe message board. Written before 3.4, so some things might be inaccurate later on.

Authors Note: Sorry if the fairytales are kinda wack, I tried to make my own. Also, I looked at a bunch of lore about sumeru and the scarlet king and goddess of flowers and just decided to run with it. Def not pure canon, but I hope you still enjoy!

“There once was a time when the lord of flowers had accompanied the lord of the forest into the depths of the irminsul, curious about the root of all knowledge in Teyvat. Its bright white branches stretched seemingly endlessly, throughout the realm. She was unprepared for the dull reality of waiting for her friend to finish her sacred tasks of looking after the irminsul.

Looking around at the knowledge that flowed like a gentle sinkhole towards the tree of the world, whose white branches reflected off the calm pool, the lord of flowers felt the itch to get up and perform a dance.

Perhaps dancing shall make the time pass by faster, and with that thought, the goddess of flowers closed her eyes letting the beat of imaginary music flow through her divine body.

Each elegant step, each precise glide of her hands, each graceful twirl faithfully followed by the reflection in the pool of knowledge. Her dance so captivating that the lord of the forest could not help but stop and admire her friend’s dance, as an avatar of the irminsul, she could feel that the sacred tree was also pleased with this performance.

As the lord of flowers knelt one knee to the ground in a bow, signifying the end of the show…

There was the echo of a drop hitting the waters still surface, followed by a violent rush of water as the surface tension broke, then stillness once more.

A Jinn came into existence. Its birth was witnessed by the lord of the forest and the lord of flowers whom the Jinn mirrored in beauty.

‘It appears irminsul loved your performance so much, it wanted to create an avatar from your reflection.’ The forest lord interpreted the message from the world tree.

‘A gift of the highest honor.’ The goddess of flowers spoke, gently caressing the locks which framed the Jinn’s gaze that looked not into her eyes, but into the depths of her heart.”

‘What a ridiculous tall tale’, the scribe thought as he took a sip of coffee.

Teal eyes peering over his cup, in place of where Maddah, the caffeine-addicted man, usually was, stood a fresh face. He remembers Kaveh rambling about how Maddah’s material had become so stale, the owners at Puspa Cafe had invited a wandering storyteller.

Instead of the exaggerated legends of great battles, lost treasure, and towering monsters told by the jittery man. These stories were different, it was as if the storyteller was painting a scenery into the minds of the listener, slowly immersing them into a mental play. However, as a man of reason, Alhaitham found it hard to ignore the glaring inaccuracies in the stories.

In the largest expanse of ancient text and scripts of kingdoms gone, there was no mention of such a Jinn. As he thought about the sources of this tale, calm applause rippled through the homely corner of the cafe.

You had finished telling your tales for the day, a serene smile thanking your listeners as you headed towards the acting manager. A bit eager to collect your payment in the form of a warm meal and a few mora. It had only been a week since the manager approached your street performance near the Grand Bazaar, seemly desperate to invite you to perform at Puspa Cafe.

Who were you to pass up such a cushy opportunity? A hot meal and a steady stream of mora were more than you could ever ask for. You brought forth your best stories, where one story ended, the next began. However, you would always stop after introducing the next story, ensuring that the anticipation drew your listeners back like bees to a sweet flower.

Upon your way to settle down at a table to await your meal, the peaceful atmosphere of the cafe was shattered by two bickering voices.

“And that is exactly why I've always despised materialists like you. Art is a precious fruit of leisure. You can't compare it to production and exploitation for commercial purposes!” A blond man exclaimed.

“Leisurely people are like people walking on a spherical ground, they don't exist. Why don't you use your brain and think for a moment? Can the production of anything exist without commercial exchange?” Was the rebuttal from an ashen-haired man.

Oh, and you thought you were supposed to be the entertainment as people dined on their coffee and meals. The clash of wits playing out in front of everyone’s amused glances, something about the reactions of the other patrons told you this was a regular occurrence.

“Have you no understanding of what passion is? Passion comes within the heart, not the cold machine of commercialism!”

“Passion is like a fire, without anything to feed it. It soon will flicker weakly before burning out into ashes. How can any passion survive without mora?”

“Ugh! I cannot bare to listen to your mangled views of art!”

“Great, shall I take that as a sign that you have found new lodging?”

“How low will you stoop, Scribe??”

“Excuse me.”

Both of their heads snapped toward you, the person who had interfered with their debate. However, your interest could not help but be peeked by the discussion of this comical scene. You had abandoned your original plans of settling down, instead, you had wandered toward this lively table.

As a supporter of art yourself, you felt the need to come to the blond man’s defense, seeing how his lack of composure is leading him down the path of defeat.

“Apologies, if I am intruding. However, this discussion is far too interesting to not join. May I give my thoughts?”

The blond man shifted his position at the table, opening up room for you to sit down.

“Please be my guest, storyteller. Please educate this materialistic man about the basics of human leisure.”

Placing yourself in front of the ashen-haired man, you made sure to keep your back straight to give yourself an air of confidence. You began your surrebutter.

“While it is true that an aspect of art is tied to commercialism, the true value cannot be fully measured. It cannot be counted like mora, nor measured by a sexton. Thus, causing many scholars to brush art off as a frivolous waste of time. But the value of art can be felt, no? From the layout of this cafe, to the spines of books, to the print of the words. It’s all art.”

The man in front of you just returned a scoff. Oh, you knew you were in for a long debate now.

Throughout the drawn-out debate, you had gained key information about the two gentlemen that had welcomed you to their table. The blond man’s name was Kaveh, the famous architect and fellow lover of the arts. The ashen-haired man, with whom you were engaged in continuous rounds of rebuttals, was the scribe of the Akademiya, Alhaitham. A stubborn and rational man, you concluded. Unfortunately for him, you can be just as self-willed.

“As I have stated before. Art holds more than just monetary value, dear scribe. As a graduate of Haravatat, you should know that many of the texts you translated over your studies were preserved by storytellers and artists who first pasted them down in oral tradition, followed by written script and murals.” You signed.

“That is exactly why we students had to be wary of the inaccuracies and inconsistencies riddled all throughout those texts. Just like with the tale you told earlier, there is no record of such a Jinn existing before, such a significant creation by the sacred tree will most certainly be recorded somewhere. The history that they record is so twisted by biases and failure of human memory, it is rare to gain anything of significant value from them.”

“Oh my, dear scribe were you by chance equating the existence of a character in a folktale correlates with a physical being?” You tried to stifle your snicker.

“I did not expect you to have such a cute side. I heard that the children in Mondstadt do the same, believing that a man in a red suit will slide down their chimney to give them wonderful little toys. Were you disappointed?”

Alhaitham narrowed his teal eyes at you in a slight glare. “You know what I mean. There seem to not be any mention of this Jinn in other Sumerian folktales.”

You couldn’t help the urge to tease him, but you could feel that he did not seem to want to continue the debate after hearing the cackle coming out of his roommate from your little jest.

“Yes, yes I was just jesting, dear scribe. Please don’t be disappointed. The Jinn could be an analogy of the bond formed between the lord of the forest and the lord of the flowers.” You stood up from your seat.

Your food had long been eaten, his coffee had long been left untouched. You were at the moment considered an employee of Puspa Cafe in a way, thus you shouldn’t be upsetting the customers now.

“Let us conclude this debate for today. I believe I have taken enough of your time, gentlemen. How about we continue this discussion another day? Perhaps over a meal again?” You gave him a smile mixed with customer service and genuine hopefulness.

“Another time?” Alhaitham scoffed, “you want this debate to drag out?”

“Of course,” you noted that he likes to scoff a lot (must be his ego). “It’s to ensure that you will come back to listen to my stories again, maybe you will learn something new. After all, I have to prove to you and the acting manager my ‘commercial value’ no?”

The tall man simply crossed his arms over his chest, an unreadable expression on his face. However, something in his eyes gave you the hint that you needed to confidently conclude, ‘he’ll be back’. After all, no scholar in your experience would ever turn down an opportunity to gain a new piece of wisdom.

“I shall take my leave now, I bid you all goodnight. Until the next time we meet.”

Alhaitham’s eyes followed your figure as you ambled your way toward the acting manager to bid her goodnight, before exiting from the intricately painted door of the cafe, your features highlighted by the warm hues of the setting sun. Once your frame disappeared from his field of view, the scribe realized an error in his interaction with you.

There was an unequal exchange of information, from Kaveh’s blabbering mouth you had gained knowledge of their names, studies, and employment. Meanwhile, Alhaitham could not recall a time during tonight when you had given him your name, all they knew was that you were a wandering storyteller.

‘Oh well, it’s trivial at this point.’ He did not even want to imagine how ridiculous a scene would be of the grand scribe chasing down someone simply for a name.

‘This unequal exchange of information will be balanced out in due time.’ He finished the rest of his cold coffee, unphased by the bitter taste. As if a thought was distracting his mind from the taste. Or was it the sweet anticipation of a future meeting that had mellowed out that bitterness?

Good refreshing debates that stimulate his mind were rare to come by, of course, he would want to take this chance to polish his knowledge and beliefs.

The moon chased the sun away, then the sun chased the moon away from its place in the sky. Thus, a new day came forth.

It was five o’clock sharp when Alhaitham placed his pen down, the report in his hand half finished. However, it was no longer his responsibility for the day as dictated by the hands of the grandfather clock in his office. Tidying up his desk and taking his cape off the back of his chair, he knew he had to be quick so as to not run into an Akademiya intern with another mountain of paperwork to place on his oak desk.

Since the removal of Azar and his group of corrupted sages, as well as the reinstitution of their archon, the piles of paperwork that ended up on his desk only grew exponentially. But, Alhaitham made sure that the paperwork trail will not follow him once he step foot outside his office doors. He made sure to clearly post his working hours right outside his door, it was not his fault that esteemed scholars seem to not be able to read his posting.

He had arrived at his office at nine o’clock in the morning, worked a full day at his desk reading new research proposals, applications for open positions, and signing off on new amendments issued by the lesser lord. Now that the clock now reads a minute past five, he had concluded that it was enough work for the day. It was not like the entire Akademiya would collapse without their acting grand sage for the night, though he preferred to not have that title.

Taking long strides across the marble floors of the Akademiya floors, Alhaitham made sure to avoid the searching eyes of others, especially if they happened to be carrying a stack of paper. Exiting out of the grand doors of the building and continuing down the winding path, allowing his skin to get used to the sudden change from the cool crisp air of his office, to the warm afternoon breeze typical of Sumeru. Thus, he began his routine journey toward a certain cafe.

The moment he pushed open the door to the cafe, he could see the staff take one look at him, then start to prepare his order. There was no need for him to speak a word to any of them as he made his way to his preferred table. The familiar faces of other patrons were all around, more to join as they were still making their way from work to the cafe, the same smell of coffee and samosas wafting through the air. The only change seemed to be that Maddah was not standing in the center of the collection of tables.

In that spot stood you, the nameless storyteller who recently had just arrived, and the person patient (willing) enough to want to continue a debate with him.

“Thank you all for coming back to hear my stories tonight, “ you began as soon as the last table was occupied.

“The tale I wish to tell tonight may be a bit different, as I believe it holds a small mystery. Will you be able to decipher it?”

Alhaitham could feel the weight of your gaze upon him as you questioned the audience. He simply decided to blow off the steam from the coffee that had just been placed on his table, the white vapors bending and warping his view of you.

“There once was a dove, young and as soft as padisarah petals. It had a lovely coo, which earned the dove the favor of the goddess of flowers.

‘What a lovely thing you are, just as the same as I. Oh, my little dove will you coo for me?’ The goddess stroked its down feathers.”

Taking sips of his dark coffee in intervals as he watched you perform, Alhaitham could not help but find the story childish. Certainly not befitting of a cafe frequented by working adults, and yet here you were captivating a room full of weary grown-ups with a children’s tale. It must be your gestures and facial expressions that drew the audience in.

At this point in the story, it seems to have been established that the dove would only coo about the events of the goddess’s day truthfully. One day, the lord of flowers must have grown tired of its cooing and left the dove on a branch, promising to come back for it. Then came a group of children.

“‘Little dove, little dove, sing us a tale!’ They cheered.

So the dove, chest puffed with a sense of being wanted, sang the details of the day lived by its goddess. However, halfway through the children began to walk away.

‘Wait, wait!’ The dove cried. ‘I have not finished.’

‘No more! Your tales are far too boring.’

‘Boring?’ Thought the dove, ‘but it’s the truth.’

Alone once more the dove gaze longingly at the marketplace in front of it. Eyes peeled for the goddess that promised to return.

It watched a child drop a piece of flatbread which was then swiftly picked up by a mouse. A cat ran away from a dog that yapped nonstop. Merchants calling people over to their stalls, blacksmiths wiping the sweat from their eyes, and a sumpter beast resting near the edge.

An idea strung into the mind of the dove, as it used its wings to find the children.

‘Children! I have a new tale to tell, oh will you please listen to it?’

Resting on the lap of one of the children, the dove began.

‘There once was a mouse who followed the crumbs of bread left by a small child, straight into the watchful eyes of a cat! With a squeak, the mouse ran from the cat as the feline gave chase.

Only for the cat to step upon the tail of a dog, who howled in pain, then began running after the cat who ran after the mouse. The dog’s clumsy body knocked over a basket of spices that belonged to a merchant, causing the man to let out a cry of despair at his lost profits as he began to chase the dog who ran after the cat who was still running after the mouse.

The merchant in his rage failed to see the blacksmith, bumping into his arm causing the large man to brand himself with hot iron. The large man roared in pain, then began chasing the merchant who pursued the dog, who ran after the cat, who was hunting the mouse.

The blacksmith, still nursing his wound, stepped on the head of a sumptering beast, who raged after being awoken from its nap and began charging at the blacksmith, who ran as quickly as he could, causing the merchant to run faster. When the dog saw that the merchant was getting closer, he began to prance faster toward the cat, who let out a hiss as she ran after the mouse who still had the crumb in its mouth.’

Finishing the tale, the dove heard laughter ring out from the children.

‘What a wondrous tale,’ a familiar voice called out.

It was the goddess, who had returned to search for the little dove and wound up hearing the tale as well.

‘My little dove, will you coo more tales like this for me?’

Thus, from that day onwards the little dove would coo tales that brought new curiosity to the court where three friends met.”

You brought your hands in front of your torso, signaling the end of the story. Giving a slight bow as the patrons began to clap.

“So, can anyone guess what this story was trying to explain?” You finally revealed the question to the audience.

A chorus of answers began to ring out from eager scholars and nonscholars alike wanting to test their wisdom.

“Is it an analogy for how lies are more beautiful than truth?”

“No, it must be symbolizing the corruption of truth due to pressure!”

“Was it a warning to entertainers that if their patron gets tired of their ‘coo’, they’ll be abandoned?”

“No, mmm not quite, my that is a dark interpretation. Are you by chance okay, sir Maddah?”

As the ensemble of interpretations dragged on, you could tell the crowd was slowly moving toward the answer you were looking for.

“Oh! I know it! The story seeks to depict the origin of storytelling!” Kaveh exclaimed, one can only wonder when he had sat down at Alhaitham’s table and began ordering meals and drinks on the former scribe’s tab.

“Yes! Excellent! I knew a fellow aesthete would get the unwritten meaning!” You clapped and looked toward the blond man with a smile.

Great, you just inflated his roommate’s already overbearing ego. He could already see that baseless confidence travel its way up Kaveh’s face as he proudly huffed. After you had thanked the audience for being wonder listeners and for participating in your little mystery, you made your way to their table.

“So, what did you think of the story? Did you find its hidden meaning?” You sat down right in front of him, in the same spot as yesterday.

“Oh? Like what, how oral recordings of history become so marred and twisted throughout the years by many tongues to the point it is reduced to a mere story for a child?” Alhaitham picked right the debate right there, skipping the pleasantries. You let out a sigh, lips pouting a bit as you rested your head on one hand.

“My, not even a hello? None the else. Your claim from yesterday just got challenged.”

“How so?” He placed his cup down, attention solely focused on you now.

“That same Jinn created from a goddess’s reflection from yesterday’s tale made an appearance in this tale.” You remarked.

“Nonsense, these stories are not related, there was no mention of a Jinn. Plus, how can I be sure that you did not just craft this tale overnight when this debate was put on hold?” He crossed his arms, the wire of his headphones shifting slightly.

“It is quite the popular folktale among some of the desert settlements I have visited, the tale of the goddess of flower’s beloved dove, and if you were willing to look past the superficial surface you would have seen the clear indicator. Tell me scribe, what does the line ‘what a lovely thing you are, just as the same as I’, remind you of?”

Bringing one hand to tuck under his chin as he replayed that line in his head for approximately 5 seconds.

“It’s what one would say if they were complimenting themselves in front of a mirror.”

He saw you lift your head up a bit as the beginnings of a smile began to form on your lips.

“However,” he added, “it’s such a jump to an interpretation from a minuscule detail. Such things do not hold much merit. Ever heard of confirmation bias, the tendency to interpret things to align your preconceived beliefs? ”

“In the space where truths are recorded, there lies the space for truths not recorded. To interpret this space, one must naturally make some leaps of faith, often by relating the spaces between two written truths, one can find hidden knowledge take shape in that space.”

“So you are admitting that the interpretation is made up?”

“No, I’m simply saying that there is a hidden truth. I shall tell you the deeper meaning of this tale since you can’t seem to want to read between the lines. The story acknowledges that history passed through tales gets warped, evidenced by the tall tale spun by the dove about the mouse. However, the key events and characters remained immortalized in the dove’s story.”

Your food had arrived in front of you, but your eyes never left his. Even as the enticing scent of tahchin beckoned.

“The mouse was there, as was the cat, as was the merchant, and so on. As this tale continues to be passed down and hear, these events shall always be there. Through war, oppression, and persecution, that snapshot of time can still live through it all. Just waiting for someone to look past the surface and discover the past carefully encased by the cushion of folklore.”

“What a poetic view of children’s bedtime story of a dove that can talk.” Alhaitham went to pour himself another cup of coffee, just to enjoy the aroma as he would like to have a restful night of sleep.

“In the spaces where truths are left unrecorded each time one truth is, those truths are just forever lost to time. The question they raise is left unanswered. I have experienced this more than my fair share of times.” The scribe commented.

“What if stories and art serve to lead you to those answers?”

“What if they lead you further astray?”

And with that, the second act of this debate seems to have drawn to a close. Alhaitham pulled out a book, enjoying the peace that had washed over the table as you shifted your attention to the tahchin. Kaveh had long joined another table for a round of TCG.

“Dear scribe, can you answer me this? Have you read all text related to the history of Sumeru and its desert?”

Looking up from his book a bit peeved, he answers honestly. “I have not, but I have studied most.”

“So, your previous statement about how there is no record of the Jinn is incorrect. There is no record that you have read.”

“I have already read most.”

“But not all.”

He resisted the urge to press his lips into a thin line at the sight of you eating a spoonful of tahchin, a hint of smugness twinkled in your eyes. As if you had leveled out the rebuttals once more. It seems like this debate might drag on longer than he had anticipated.

Authors Note 2: Okay so this story is heavily based on an oc of mine, but I thought it would be more interesting to have it to make it about the reader. But if I feel like it (or if enough people are curious enough) I might post my oc, but this series and blog will stay as a reader insert bc it’s more fun that way no?

#alhaitham x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x yn #alhaitham x y/n #genshin impact x you #al-haitham x reader #al haitham x you #al haitham x reader #al-haitham x you #vivalabunbunfics

477 notes · View notes

beggingforxavier · 1 year

Text

A Weekend in NYC // Xavier Thorpe

This is an alt! Follow my main blog: @beggingforxavierthorpe

About: Xavier finally comes to visit you in New York City for the holidays.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Oral (m & f recieving), P in V unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, spitting, talk of cum eating.

“Hey, I’m here!” You hear your boyfriend through the speaker of your phone and start to look around for him.

Grand Central Station is absolutely bustling this time of year, with the large Christmas tree in the center of the lobby.

“I’m by the main entrance. Just follow the signs and find the big tree.” You stay on the phone with him though, so enthused to finally have Xavier in your city for the first time.

It takes about ten minutes and a lot of explaining, but eventually you feel a tap on your shoulder. Whirling around, you look up into your boyfriend’s soft, green eyes.

“Hi there.” He murmurs, grinning wide at you. You let out a squeal and wrap your arms around his neck. Xavier chuckles lowly and lifts you up for a moment, abandoning his duffel bag to twirl you around. “I missed you too, sweetheart.”

Pulling back, you kiss him sweetly, before beaming up at him, your smile dazzling.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” You exclaim, tugging on his arm with excitement. “There’s so much I want to show you!”

He kisses your forehead, breathing you in for another second before slinging his arm around your shoulders and picking up his bag.

“Where do we begin?” He asks as you lead him out to the busy street.

“Well, I’m going to take you to the apartment so we can drop off your bag. And then I thought we could see the tree in Rockefeller Center, and also see the New Year’s ball in Times Square…” You mumble on, trying to lead him through the throngs of people rushing to their next destination.

Luckily for him, Xavier’s long legs make matching your quick pace easy.

You quickly go to your apartment, tossing his duffel inside the front door, barely giving Xavier a chance to look around before you’re pulling him out again. His cheeks are reddened in the cool New York winter breeze, and he tightens his scarf around his neck. Walking the streets at such a quick pace was quite the workout, and when you finally make it to Rockefeller Center, he’s breathing heavily. You grin up at him, used to the pace at this point, and you wrap your arm around his waist, leaning into him.

“You gonna survive?” You tease him, and he chuckles.

“I think I need one kiss, or I’ll die.” He leans down and steals one quickly, and you squeeze his waist.

“Well, we don’t want that, do we? You’ll miss this.”

The crowd parts and the tree comes into view, large, full, and so incredibly tall. Xavier lets out a little gasp and moves closer to the colorful tree. He walks right up to the barrier and gazes up in astonishment.

“How the fuck is it so big? Is it real?” He asks, gazing down at you.

“Yes, it’s real. I think they get it imported from Sweden. Norway? I can’t remember.” You shake your head and your breath clouds around your mouth.

“It’s beautiful.”

You two stand there for a few more minutes before you give him a tour, showing him Radio City Music Hall, and walking the couple blocks to Times Square.

“So that big glass ball up there is the same one on your TV that drops on New Year’s Eve.” You point up to where it is, looping your arm with his.

Xavier is overwhelmed with the number of billboards and buildings, gazing up to where you’re pointing.

“How many people live here again?” He asks, gazing around at the massive crowds.

“Like 8 million, but most of these people are tourists. We get a LOT of tourists. Like 50 million or something. It’s crazy.” You explain, walking past the shops and stopping for a minute. “Do you want to get a souvenir? We could get you a classic I heart NY shirt.”

“Maybe we should come back tomorrow? I don’t know what I’d-holy shit.” He drops your hand and moves towards the art gallery next door.

Xavier peers in the window and bites his lip, wanting to go in but he can tell its closed.

“We could come back later tonight when it’s open. We could also visit the Museum of Modern Art? I know you’d like it.” You offer, and he turns to you.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, loser. I’d do anything for your dumb ass.” You lean up and kiss him sweetly, and he grins into the kiss, his hands finding your hips and squeezing gently.

The smell of fresh pizza fills the air, and you pull away, pecking his lips once more before gazing up into his eyes.

“How about authentic New York pizza?” You ask, grabbing your wallet from your purse. “My treat.”

Xavier huffs at the last part but allows you to drag him into the pizza shop.

When you finally get back to the apartment, it’s dark outside. You both flop onto the couch, feet sore and bellies full.

“So, d’you love it?” You look over at him, reaching out your hand for his and squeezing it once he places his palm against yours.

“I love you.” Xavier rests his head back against his arm and gazes lovingly at you. When you pout at the non-answer, he smirks. “Yes, baby. I love it here. There’s so much to do, so much to see. I’m so excited for the museum tomorrow and the shows.”

“What was your favorite part?” You ask, turning to face him.

“Seeing you again.” He answers smoothly, and you roll your eyes at him, though a grin spreads across your face. His eyes are filled with adoration as he repeats himself. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you big dork.”

You slide down so your head is in his lap, looking up at him. He smiles down at you, pushing his hair back away from his face with his hand. Meanwhile, his other moves into yours, playing with the strands and massaging your scalp. You moan softly at the attention, and you can feel his cock twitch against your cheek at your sounds.

A smirk plays on your lips, and you carefully sit up, moving from the couch and sliding to your knees in front of him.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” Xavier asks, raising his eyebrow but making no move to push you away.

You look up innocently from your spot between his legs and shrug.

“I don’t know.” You lean closer, reaching forward and starting to palm him through his pants.

“Oh yeah? Are you sure?”

“I want to make you feel good.” You say offhandedly, your focus on unwrapping your favorite toy from its confines.

He almost groans at your words alone, his cock already hardening from the attention your hand is giving him. The zipper of his jeans is loud in the quiet room as you unbutton his pants and free him. Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and he hisses as you begin to stroke him a couple of times dry.

“Babe-“ He grabs your wrist and stops you. “Get it nice and wet first for me.”

You smile and lean forward, flattening your tongue and licking up the side of his shaft. Xavier curses and lets his head fall back a little, his hands moving to grip the edge of the couch. Your tongue swipes over the tip of his cock, collecting the precum that has begun to dribble out from his slit. Your tongue teases the tip gently, lapping at it for a few moments, knowing how wild that drives him. That earns you a louder groan, and you lean back, spitting onto his cock and then taking it fully into your mouth. Sucking gently, you begin to bob your head, taking more of him with each bob.

Xavier’s large hand finds the back of your head, forcing himself further down your throat and holding you there. Your nose presses into his skin and you choke around his cock, tears starting to leak from the corners of your eyes. You stay pressed down as long as you can, your throat spasming around him and causing the grunting sounds you currently hear. When it becomes too much, you tap on his thigh, and he immediately lets you up with a groan.

“That’s my good girl. Do you want me to pump you full? Claim you as mine?” Xavier croons, pushing your hair away from your face. When you nod, Xavier smiles and leans forward, pulling you up and into his lap. “Can you show me how badly you want it, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes.” You manage, and Xavier’s large hands grip your hips, forcing them to roll over his cock, spreading your wetness against his hard-on.

His tip pulls at your entrance while grinding a couple of times before he grips himself and starts to smack himself against your clit. You whimper and hold onto his shoulder tightly, looking down between you both. You both watch as his cock disappears into your cunt, and then you make eye contact, groaning as your mouths latch together again.

You kiss him deeply, his tongue teasing yours, and he chases your mouth when you pull away to focus on rocking your hips against his. Xavier’s hands move to grip your ass, squeezing it roughly as you lift your hips and drop them back down again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room between your mixed groans and moans. His hand pulls back and comes down on your cheek, the sting radiating across as it jiggles. He smooths his hand over it to soothe the pain, and then does it again, wanting to see his large, red handprint marked there.

“Fuck, just like that.” He moans, his hands guiding your movements. Your walls flutter around his length as it plunges inside you over and over, squeezing him just right like always. His eyes watch the way your chest bounces with each drop of your hips, and he leans forward, about to take one of your nipples into his mouth when he grunts again. “You’re a fucking goddess.”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat at that comment, and you reach forward to stroke his cheek as he pulls your nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly. Your head falls back, hips stuttering at the added stimuli. Xavier’s tongue flicks it gently before he moves to the other one, getting each nice and perked. When he removes his mouth completely, his fingers come to tug on both gently.

After a few more moments, Xavier lifts you off him and kisses your shoulder before sliding out from beneath you. His tall frame stands up behind you, pushing you onto your hands and knees on the couch. Your cheek presses into the cushion as he drives his cock back inside you.

“Oh, shit.” You whimper, your toes curling as he presses even deeper inside of you, burying himself to the hilt before pulling back and snapping his hips roughly into yours.

Xavier sets a brutal pace, leaning forward over you, one of his hands pressing on your shoulders to ensure your face is digging into the cushion below you, the other moving around to slap at your clit. You moan louder, trying to meet his thrusts but the pace is too quick for you. One particularly rough slap to your clit shoots tingles of mixed pain and pleasure through your body. You can almost feel the blood in your body move to your lower extremities, making your cunt throb around him.

“Such a pretty little slut. ‘M gonna give you all my cum.” He grunts out, hips ramming harder now.

His tip nudges against your sweet spot with every thrust now, and your legs begin to shake. He moves a hand to your hair, yanking you flush against his chest before tilting your head towards his.

“Open.” He says firmly, and you let your mouth drop open immediately.

Xavier proceeds to spit in your mouth, and you savor it, moaning greedily and opening again for him. He obliges and does it again for you. His assault on your clit never stops, and it only takes a couple more minutes before your walls are tightening around his cock, and you’re falling apart.

Your cries are loud, and he moves his hand up to your throat, silencing you with a kiss. He thrusts through your orgasm, before bottoming out completely, as deep as he can get, and cumming hard for you. Xavier lets out an extended groan low in his throat as he stays buried inside you. After a few moments, he lowers you back onto your hands and knees, pulling out.

His release drips out of you, and he dips his fingers in your messy cunt and pushes it right back inside.

“You look so pretty with a full cunt.” He murmurs to you, and you flush, wiggling your hips a little for him. “Who gets to fill this delicious pussy? Who does it belong to?”

“You.” Your voice is hoarse from all the moaning, but you respond automatically.

“That’s right. I own this pussy. It’s mine. And you’re my little breedable slut, aren’t you?” His eyes are trained on your leaking hole, but he smooths his hand over your cheeks lovingly.

“Yes, baby. I’m all yours.” You slowly move so you can kiss him.

Xavier kisses you back briefly, before his stomach rumbles and he pulls away.

“Good. Now, how about we finish that pizza we brought home? I’m suddenly starved. No idea why.” He teases, and you giggle.

“I can’t think of anything either.” You grin, shaking your head. “But maybe I’m just fucked dumb.”

Xavier groans at your words and pulls you in for another kiss. He almost growls into it before grabbing your legs and tugging on them, making you lay on your back.

“Actually, the pizza can wait. I have my meal right here.”

When his tongue laps at your hole, collecting your mixed releases, you both groan at the same time.

It’s official. Xavier loves New York. But he loves one thing more. You.

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe fanfiction #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier x fem!reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier x you #xavier x reader #wednesday #wednesday show #wednesday series #wednesday show smut #wednesday series smut #wednesday series fanfiction #wednesday show fanfiction #beggingforxavier #beggingforxavierthorpe

1K notes · View notes

honeybleed · 4 months

Text

thorns ⋆ caesar zeppeli

part one

content & warnings: fem!reader, canon compliant, joseph is a childhood friend, speedwagon is reader’s adoptive father, fluff, smut (virginity loss) mdni & happy ending

author’s note: reupload LAWL also dis fanart fye af ALSOOO part one of this was my very first fic on this blog? (meaning the smut was terrible) time flies fr bc i legit remember in january every time i came on here it was like an echo chamber of me talking to myself, my page was hideous asf, fic layouts raggedy now i’ve made so much good mutuals n memories ☹️ eee but weirdly enough i actually prefer the older fics compared to my latest ones.

word count: 6.7k

You were bored beyond your mind.

And you've been bored since those two had taken off for their Hamon training. You'd lost track of time.

Speedwagon drops by here and there, but he's always busy regardless.

You can't do anything about it. It's been an endless cycle of sunbathing at the hotel's pool, getting hit on by random guests, and mustering poor Italian to say you don't speak the language with a thank you but no thank you.

Today, you decided to do things differently and sit in the living room of the suite and quietly settle down with a book.

But you started to feel fidgety and restless. Usually, you had a good attention span when it came to reading. It was your favorite thing to do. However, you catch yourself reminiscing a lot about the day you had spent with Caesar.

Hell, you'd even put up with Caesar and Joseph's incessant bickering since the silence was driving you up the wall.

Caesar.

You found yourself daydreaming about him more often than you should.

It was bad enough that the man was so devastatingly gorgeous he'd make a nun rethink her vows but to have felt his hands on your body, those forest green eyes that gazed at you with adoration and warmth.

"Y/N!" You hear a familiar resolute voice boom, dragging you out of your slightly crude thoughts.

While Speedwagon had been a lot more stressed resulting in his jolly manner withering slightly, you could see he was returning to his old self once again. "My sunshine!"

"Ew, I have not heard that nickname in nearly a decade, let's keep it that way." You snarked as he bustled towards you.

"What happened to my little girl, huh?" He countered.

"Life. Anyways, you seem to be in an awfully good mood. Care to enlighten me?"

"I noticed how reclusive you've become since Jojo's departure-"

"What-"

"I noticed how reclusive you've become since Jojo's departure-"

"What-"

"So I took the liberty of getting you an invite to Caesar and Jojo's mentor's home. Usually, they are a pretty private person but you know me!"

"Yep, the man, the legend himself, Robert E.O Speedwagon." You grinned as you reached up to clasp his shoulder.

"Dad to you." He chastised.

Soon enough, a tall, elegant woman with dark brown hair that cascaded past her shoulders, eyes blue as the ocean, and fair skin that looked like porcelain greeted you and Speedwagon.

They exchanged pleasantries. It seemed like they knew each other well.

She turned to focus on you with her piercing gaze as if she were analysing you.

"Ah, you must be Speedwagon's daughter. He doesn't know how to shut up about you." She snickered as she put a hand on her hip. You looked at Speedwagon who shook his head.

"Nice to meet you." You said, with a polite smile.

"I can't possibly begin to imagine how a timid thing like you was dealing with Joseph for that long." She said, with a brow raised.

"On the contrary." Speedwagon interjected. "She developed a venomous tongue being stuck with him for so long."

"What?! No, I haven't-"

"Lies."

As you followed after the woman, whose stride maintained grace and elegance, she described the grand manor but you knew she was withholding pretty big information. however, you knew better than to pry.

"Suzi Q!" She called out, and a young lady bounded towards her, smiling from ear to ear.

"Yes, Madam Lisa Lisa?"

"This is Y/N, she'll be our guest for the day so cater to her. I have business elsewhere to take care of but I'll be back tomorrow morning. Is that alright?" She told the lady who nodded enthusiastically.

"Go ahead Madam, I'll take good care of the house. Just leave it to me!" Suzi affirmed.

"I'll show you around, then we can have lunch!" She smiled at you.

"So...you're friends of Jojo and Caesar?" She asked as you walked with her side by side.

"Well, I met Caesar fairly recently.." You muttered, butterflies bursting in your stomach as you remembered the day you spent with him as well as your daydreams. "And Jojo has been by my side for some years now. How are you finding them?"

"Oh." Suzi gasped. "I guess I don't talk to them much since I'm occupied with errands..."

"But Caesar is a sweetheart! Jojo seems moody around him but he's sorta eye candy." She giggled, cheeks dusted with pink.

You snorted to yourself.

You saw many girls crush on Joseph throughout the years. In the beginning, he was pretty oblivious, and still in the childhood mindset of "yucky".

Then you became adolescents and he didn't retain any of the famous gentlemanly charm of his grandfather's that Speedwagon and Erina gushed about.

He then morphed into the textbook stereotype pervert who made jokes about being a Peeping Tom and panty raids. But you were both in your early twenties now, so you hoped he'd grown out of that.

As cynical as you were.

"Well, a sweet girl like you is too good for him." You stated as you sat at the tea table adorned with doilies on the balcony, which overlooked the glimmering, turquoise sea.

"Hey! I don't like him or anything!" She quipped, defensive.

"My bad." You responded with hands in the air. "Your body language seems to be telling a different story though." You teased as soon as she was out of earshot.

She brought a tray with a large jug of lemonade and ice with some small bite-sized snacks and conversed with you.

Small talk usually seemed tedious but with Suzi Q's eccentric and ditzy demeanor, it was lively, to say the least.

You returned the vigor and asked her about working for Lisa Lisa, which she didn't have much to say other than she was grateful.

"OI! TEACH, WHERE ARE YOU?!" A voice called out. In swaggered none other than Joseph, who froze and did a double take when he saw you sat opposite Suzi.

"Jojo..!" Suzi tittered. "How many times do I have to tell you to refer to Madam Lisa Lisa formally?!"

"Gah! What is she doing here?!" Jojo exclaimed as he gestured towards you.

"Hello to you too, Jojo." You responded, wryly. It was almost as if he liked to act dense on purpose.

"She's a guest! And you better show some manners." Suzi said, firmly.

"Or what?" Joseph questioned, a smirk on his face.

"Ignore him."

"Where's Caesar?" You asked. You purposely asked now to get under Joseph's skin but you were curious nonetheless.

"Oh...I haven't seen him today." She said. "I wish I could help."

"Don't worry. You've been a gracious host." You reassured her as you reached out to pat her shoulder.

"Typical. She visits and doesn't even check on me." Joseph said, scathingly.

"You just got here, you numbskull." You said, haughtily as you elbowed his side. As you and Suzi sat opposite each other on the round, small table, Joseph had been looming over the two of you.

"I just think you just like to compete with Caesar over everything." You snapped.

Suzi burst into hysterics.

"Oh my god, how did I not notice that before?" She cackled. "Even at dinner, he tries to finish first!"

"Suzi!" Joseph called out. "Why are you telling her that...?!"

"Just an observation." Suzi responded nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders.

It was a ridiculous sight, a six-foot-five man sulking like a toddler. Which made it all the more funnier.

"How's training for...whatever." You asked, turning to face Joseph in your chair.

"None of your business!" He retorted.

"Forget I even asked."

"It's super secret Hamon business. Non-Hamon users aren't allowed to know." He continued.

"I got it the first time." You said, drily.

"Yep, powerless humans have no jurisdiction in this-"

"WE GET IT!" You and Suzi both exclaimed in unison, then stared at each other wide-eyed. The surreality of it made the two of you double over in laughter.

"So you two bond over bullying me?!" He cried out.

You stood up from the seat to reach out a hand to pinch his cheek which was an arduous task in itself with how chiseled his face was, but you still managed to tug on some skin causing him to yelp out in pain.

"What's the matter? I thought powerless humans-"

"Okay, okay, I apologise! Let go." He whined and you obliged.

"Your boyfriend is on the rooftop. I beat him." He said triumphantly with a smug look on his face.

"Oh, I'm sure you did." You drawled. "Does Jojo want a cookie?" causing Suzi to snort.

"Your venom-laced tongue will not take away from my achievement, harpy!"

You hooked your fingers to replicate a claw and did a slashing motion as you hissed. Then turned on your heel to head to the rooftop.

"Be gone!" He called out.

You made your way up onto the rooftop as the sunset. The sky was painted with magnificent shades of oranges and yellows.

It was a familiar setting when you had approached him on the balcony at the hotel which seemed like forever ago.

He sat with one leg stretched out, the other knee bent.

"Hello, stranger." You grinned. His eyes widened at the sight of you.

He choked out your name.

"What are you doing here? I thought-"

For a split second, it seemed as if he was scrambling to discreetly dispose of the cigarette, much to no avail.

"You smoke?" You spoke up.

He gave you a sheepish look.

"Bad habit of mine.." He muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck. "It comes and goes. More so when I'm stressed."

"Can't be good for you." You remarked. "But you didn't need to try and hide it from me, I don't judge."

He snorted.

"Yeah, I guess that was pretty foolish of me. I shouldn't tell you but I asked Jojo about you here and there since you two are childhood friends. He's not the best I know but I missed you a lot. He said you're pretty uppity and picky about things. And hate the smell of cigarettes."

"That Jojo.." You mumbled under your breath. "Well, what's wrong with having standards?" You said, a little irritated as you folded your arms.

"Nothing, nothing!" Caesar chuckled, his eyes curled up into crescents as he held out his palms.

"You can ask me anything you want to know about me. Don't ask that idiot." You said, airily.

"Next time. When this is all over I want to know all about you." He said, adamantly. He seemed so serious, your heart swelled a bit.

You cleared your throat.

"I missed you too." You said. "There's not much to do at the hotel, most people would be grateful to be at a five-star hotel in Rome but I'm bored. I miss my tour guide."

"Yeah, maybe after all this I'll go into tourism or something." He snickered.

"Oh, absolutely not. All those women would be drooling over you, not paying attention to a word you gotta say about the tourist attractions."

"Hmm?" Caesar raised a brow. "Do I hear a hint of jealousy?"

You spluttered in disbelief.

"No! And I'll have you know back at the hotel I have a lot of admirers too." You responded.

"So now I have to fight for your affection?" He questioned.

"No way." You said, rather earnestly.

"I'm all about you, Caesar." You thought to yourself but didn't dare to utter those words aloud.

"Why are you stressed out?" You changed the subject, eyes boring into his.

"Huh?"

"You said you smoke when you're stressed, so.."

"I've been thinking a lot. More than I usually do. I didn't know you were coming to visit but when I saw you I had some foreign feeling of anxiety. I never feel anxious around women."

You bit your tongue. You hoped he wasn't going to start talking about other women. Otherwise, that dimwit Joseph was going to be right. And you wouldn't hear the end of it.

"Caesar, don't say it." You snorted.

"What was I going to say?"

You did your best attempt at a husky male voice.

"But you're not like other women."

He stared at you stunned for a moment, jaw slack.

"...But why not?" He asked, with a stifled laugh.

"Well, it's just sloppy."

"But what if that's how I feel about you?"

"That I'm not like other women? I am like other women. I want to be loved. I want to be acknowledged. I want the man I have feelings for, to be honest and vulnerable with me."

His eyes darkened. He rose from where he sat and stood directly in front of you. Towering over you. So close, his fragrance like the ocean wafted to your nose. So close, you could see the texture of his skin.

"What has being honest ever gotten anybody, Y/N? People use it to their advantage and against you." He responded, in a scornful tone.

You winced a little.

There were the walls he built up. You remember that day again. Where he laughed it off. But you and Caesar were only twenty. He spent his early years suffering abandonment and neglect.

"So you think going around being so shielded is beneficial to you, Caesar? Yeah, it's daunting to open up to anybody. That fear of betrayal will be there but once you do, it's unlike anything in this world. If anything, it makes intimacy so much better."

He was at a loss for words. He turned away again, to face out towards the sunset.

"We are going to a private island, tomorrow tonight. Most of Lisa Lisa's students never make it back. I don't doubt my skills whatsoever but I'm...thinking of those who came before me."

It was your turn to remain silent as you listened.

"I need to avenge my family."

There was a lot that you wanted to say to Caesar. But his voice was full of a lot of things.

Resolve, determination, anguish but the largest component of them all was fury.

Speedwagon had given you very little information on what exactly Caesar and Joseph were doing. You knew it linked to his abduction and the work of the Speedwagon Foundation.

But he said the less you knew the better. The last thing anybody wanted was for you to be entangled, especially considering you had little to no combat skills.

"If that's what you feel like you must do...then go ahead."

"What, you're not going to advise me against it? Tell me it's pointless and it's suicide?"

"I can't...change your mind on something you feel so strongly about." You stated.

"Y/N!" You heard Suzi call out. "Your driver is here!"

"Okay, I'm coming!" you called back out to her.

"Well, that's me." you said to Caesar. "It's a shame we didn't get to spend too long together."

"Why can't you stay longer...?" He questioned.

"I said I'd go back. So.."

"But an hour with Caesar feels like seconds." bounced in your mind as you sat in the backseat of the car.

"Is something the matter, Miss?" The chauffeur asked, catching a glimpse of your worried expression in the rearview mirror.

"I need to do something, I'll be right back." You said, hurriedly as you pushed the car door open. You shut it and began to rush towards the building you had just left.

As you hurried with a million thoughts running through your head, you cursed yourself for wearing suede pumps.

Caesar squinted his eyes when he saw a familiar figure bounding towards him.

"...Y/N?" Caesar questioned. "What's wrong, oof!-"

He was immediately cut off as you threw yourself onto him. Arms draped around his shoulders, chests flush against each others. You crushed your lips against his own, not knowing the right words.

First, he was frozen.

When you pulled away, you blinked worried that this had been a bad decision.

You should've asked, damn it.

Then it was his turn to envelop your lips with his own and kiss you feverishly as he cradled the sides of your face.

Whilst your kiss had been impulsive, and albeit unskilled. His was beyond passionate.

Which sent jolts throughout your body and made you groan against his mouth. Undignified to say the least but at that very moment in time you could care less about your image.

It was all him. You couldn't get enough of him.

"I’ll stay over, I don't care if i'm crashing." You sighed.

"I can't bear to be apart from you any longer, Y/N." Caesar said, voice grave as he clasped your hands. "If that makes me greedy, then so be it."

After your little over top scene, you followed back to his room to talk properly once more.

"I want to build something great with you but it scares me thinking I could fall victim to my father and grandfather's tragic fate. I'm not scared of death but to leave you heartbroken would destroy me." Caesar declared, voice wavering.

The entirety of his statement, he didn't take his eyes off of you.

"Stop it." You choked out.

"Stop what?"

"If...you have these feelings for me like the way you say you do then let me make my choice. Don't push me away because you think it's for my own good." You insisted.

"But Y/N..." Caesar groaned.

"Enough Caesar! Damn it, you can't protect everybody. You can't always be there to stop-"

Your rant stopped when you felt him take the hand that was on your lap up to his lips to interlock his fingers with your own and press his lips against the back of your hand.

"You're really adorable when you're angry, you know?" He said, softly as he beamed at you.

Your brows knitted together in frustration. He clearly was used to smooth talking his way out of heated situations. And you hated how this was working as the tips of your ears began to burn.

"Be thankful I have a headache and don't want to argue with you anymore. You’re annoying." You retorted, pulling out of his grasp and standing up from the seat.

"What's the problem, my love? Have you eaten?" He asked, a little concernedly and it dawned on you the last time you'd consumed anything was noon when Suzi brought the tray.

"Drop the pet names-"

"Over my dead body-"

"Caesar." You said through gritted teeth.

"Okay, over my alive body with beautiful formed pecs and-" He paused as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"I ate when I came here." You stated.

"That was almost twelve hours ago, Jesus Christ!" He exclaimed. "Go downstairs, we need to get you dinner stat." He said, ushering you out of the room.

"Caesar!" You protested.

"No ifs and buts about it!"

"You can't just drop statement of the century and expect me to stomach dinner." You grumbled. "And that was nine hours ago, you big baby."

"Key word, almost." He snapped.

Soon enough, you watched Caesar having a civil conversation with Joseph and Suzi across the dining table.

Well, Joseph seemed to be ranting but that was nothing out of the ordinary.

You're four young adults in this giant manor, you're not unruly teenagers.

There isn't this expectation of you guys to wreck Lisa Lisa's estate. Well, unless Suzi wanted to lose her job and Caesar and Joseph wanted their mentor to kick their asses with her advanced level Hamon skills.

Caesar catches you gazing at him, as he swirls around the wine in his cup and in return gives you a wink. A gesture that would normally have you rolling your eyes but instead it makes your heart leap to your throat.

You pulled a face at him and went back to your thoughts as they continued their heated debate. Knowing Suzi for a day, you wish you knew how her brain worked.

Would it really be so wrong to let loose with Caesar? The only person who was making such a big fuss about his player ways was Joseph and you were sure he probably had caught a case of the green eyed monster regarding that.

What would be worst case scenario if you did let yourself be 'seduced' by the man? He was easy on the eyes, and that was putting it lightly.

Though you'd only known each other for a short period of time, there was no denying that he had strong feelings for you and cared about you.

You'd prided yourself on your image as a lady since being adopted. You sneered and turned your nose up at dozens of admirers. Deeming them not good enough for your standards.

There was a particular trait that you held close to your heart. Attentiveness.

You bid all three good night as you made your way to the guest bedroom Suzi showed you, but began to stall in the hallway when you could see Caesar.

It was slightly humiliating how you seemed to be drawn towards him like magnets no matter what. He caught your glance for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night and gestured for you to go towards him.

"Am I that dashing?" He asked with his familiar, cocky grin.

"You know the answer." You snorted.

"You need to rest." He said, tentatively as he reached out a finger to stroke the side of your face.

"Says the one who does rigorous training for days on end." You scoffed.

"My point still stands." He said, firmly. "Sleep."

"How the hell do you even do this thing?!" You muttered under your breath.

"What...are you talking about?" He said, desperately trying to keep in his laughter.

"How the hell do you initiate sex?!" You blurted out, the two last words of the sentence feeling gross in your mouth.

Caesar's eyes immediately widened as he stared at you, absolutely dumbstruck at what came out of your mouth.

"This...this was a bad idea. I’ll go now, forget this ever happened." You said hurriedly as you turned on your head to rush away.

Suddenly, you felt a heavy force yank you in the opposite direction of where you were heading.

"Caesar!" You hissed. "What are you-"

Your body was flush against his own which seemed to add fuel to the uncontrollable inferno that was your humiliation.

He cupped your face tenderly as he chuckled at you.

"I hope you don't go to other people's bedrooms asking how to 'initiate sex.'" He said, a little lowly.

"...No." You responded, lowering your gaze in an attempt to avoid eye contact. He tilted your chin upwards with his forefinger.

"So only for me?" He asked in his honeyed voice.

You were sure he was trying to kill you with this. He had to be.

"...I guess."

"What’s the hurry?" He grinned, then began to usher you into his bedroom this time.

"I just...wanted to do it with somebody I like."

"Hmm? Was Jojo a contender?"

"Caesar." You deadpanned. "Gross."

"Fine, fine. so i'm just an experiment to you?"

"No!" You protested. "That's not, I-"

"I’m just kidding, cara mia." He snickered.

"Pet name-"

"Learn to live with it." He interjected. "I guess there's no solid rulebook of how to initiate sex but I guess the term you meant was how to make a move." He said imitating your voice causing you to shove him.

"But what made you decide that?"

"I’ve abided by rules all this time and quite honestly this entire trip made me realize its just held me back." You stated.

"And quite honestly, I'm crazy about you Caesar Zeppeli." You thought to yourself.

You swallowed thickly as caesar leaned closer and closer to mould his lips against yours. The only sound in the room was him lewdly smacking your lips which made you hum slightly.

He smelt so pleasant. He always had this aroma of sea salt and and soapy bubbles. It wafted to your nose and entranced you.

He ran his nose against your neck causing you to shiver.

"Caesar...I-"

"What is it?" He asked, voice barely an octave as his lush lips gently made a trail upwards from your collarbone to your jawline.

"I'm just nervous...that I won't be good at this at all.." You stuttered.

He pulled away from his ministrations to make intense eye contact with you, and somehow his eyes piercing deep into yours seemed even more intimate than him suckling on your neck a few seconds ago.

"Y/N, there's no such thing about being good at intimacy." He said, voice slightly firm.

"...Huh?"

"If you’re worried that you won't be able to make me feel good, well that's just not possible. You letting me touch and feel you is all I need, you understand?"

"...Caesar." You breathed out, shakily.

You hated this.

You hated how much he could reduce you to a nervous, bumbling mess. You were a woman with thoughts and intellect. But a conversation with Caesar would always leave your mind blank.

"I'll take the lead, okay? Don't feel any pressure. And if you don't want this I’m more than willing to stop-"

"No!" You blurted out, instantly regretting it. His eyes widened. "No. I want this, I want you. I’d be a fool to let this chance go, I’ve been dreaming about this for so long."

"Well, I'm truly honoured. And I would do anything to make you happy." He said, gently as he curled his index finger and gently stroked it against your cheek.

He reached out to take your hand in his own, and brought it to his lips as he gazed at you intently.

"So..will you let be your first?"

"Yes. Please, Caesar."

And with that, you were hauled onto his lap with absolute ease from his end. He began to undress you, unzipping your dress. You pulled it over your head, tossing it to the ground.

Revealing your black, lacy bra, you felt your cheeks heat up as he took in the sight.

You were half naked, and you were soon going to be shed of all garments soon, which caused a pang of nervousness. You tensed slightly, which caesar immediately noticed.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes..I should probably help you out of your clothes too.." You tittered as your hands hesitantly reached the hem of his tight pastel blue t-shirt.

He let out a chuckle.

"See, you worried for nothing. You know what you're doing. Just, follow your instincts. Whatever you want to do, I’m sure I’ll enjoy."

You simply blinked at him.

You pondered, there was one thing you'd always wanted to do since laying eyes on him.

Your hands began to skim across his well defined abdominals, then paused at his pectorals, cupping them. They were so cushy, you wanted to giggle.

He let out a snort, finding you absolutely adorable. Your thumb circled his nipple, making him hiss a little.

"Sorry! Did that hurt?!" You gasped, horrified.

"Y/N, relax...you just caught me off guard." Caesar chortled as he clamped your wrist in an attempt to stop you scuttling off like a scared forest animal.

"Okay...okay."

You draped your free arm around his broad shoulders, and leaned in close to envelop his lips with yours. He reciprocated the gesture, moving against your own.

Your other hand made its way to the back of his head, softly gripping the roots of his blonde locks causing him to groan into your mouth. You massaged his scalp as you felt his large, calloused hand settle on the small of your back.

He licked your bottom lip as if he was requesting entrance and you willingly obliged. You swore you almost lost your balance and toppled over when his warm, wet tongue began to massage your own.

As much as you wanted to go slow, and Caesar by all costs did not want to rush you, the sensations you were experiencing were making you beyond flustered.

Your lower abdomen felt a spring begin to coil and your nether regions by its own accord was beginning to throb.

Pulling away for air, you ran your palms across his biceps and laid down on the pillow. He caged you between his arms, his large figure entrapping you.

He still managed to balance himself where you could feel some of his weight but not the point where you were suffocated.

His hand slowly slid up your arm and interlocked with your fingers.

"I’ve wanted you like this for so long." He murmured between kisses. "Always thinking of you, only you."

"You're killing me here, Caesar." You sighed.

Your body was on fire, tingling everywhere. The man was serious. Ensuring no part of you was left untouched.

Biting and tugging on your ear lobe, which made you squeak and dissolve into giggles. Gliding his tongue against your lower abdominals, maintaining eye contact which made you need him even more.

Kissing your neck, the tops of your breasts, hand running up and down your back. He was everywhere and it was perfect. You were losing yourself in this moment with Caesar.

"Sit up." He said, voice assertive and you wordlessly obliged.

His hands slid to undo your bra. It was long time coming but he knew you were shy.

Being naked in front of him felt beyond daunting but he had put so much effort in comforting you and putting your arousal first it seemed pointless in shying away.

The bra clattered onto your lap, then he dashed it onto the floor. He pushed you back down again and began to tenderly plant kisses on your right breast as his hand kneaded the left one.

Your back immediately arched and you let out a gasp. You knew your breasts were sensitive but having a him touching and kissing them was in a different ball park.

Minutes of attention from Caesar's end felt like hours and you felt damp stickiness cling to the fabric of your underwear as well as how hard he was which he seemed to be ignoring.

He pulled away from what was the dozenth kiss, strings of saliva connecting the two of you as he gazed at you, eyes blown with lust.

"I'm gonna go get...protection." He said, voice deeper than you've ever heard. Usually Caesar's voice was light and airy.

He reached over to the bedside table then suddenly yanked the covers away.

"Sorry, I just need to see..."

"Jesus." He said in awe after he pulled down your underwear and flung it across the room.

"...What?"

"No, I just did a good job I suppose." He chuckled darkly.

"Not his cocky side coming out during sex." You thought to yourself. Well it was fine, it made him sexier.

He pried your legs open and slowly inserted one finger into your warmth. The pad of his thumb began to trace circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves which caused you to jerk.

You let out a pathetic mewl at the feeling. It was overwhelming to say the least. And the longer he wasn't inside of you, the more torturous it felt.

"Caesar, please." You said, nearly in tears.

"What's the problem?" He asked, feigning ignorance.

"I want you so bad, please."

"Hearing you beg is cute, but I won't tease you any longer. You poor thing." He snorted as he yanked off his own underwear and lined himself against you.

Your eyes widened as he pushed himself into your plush, velvety walls and stretched you out. You'd never felt this feeling before.

"...Fuck." Caesar grunted against your ear, warm breath tickling the shell. You let out another gasp as he began to thrust slowly.

"Sorry for cursing..." He said in a strangled tone. "But you feel so fucking good.."

Your hands flew to grip against the bare skin of his broad shoulders and your nails anchored into the flesh of his skin.

You winced at the ache.

"Caesar, it hurts.." You whined.

"I know...just breathe, okay? It’s...gonna fade away, darling i promise." He murmured.

Meeting your lips once again, in an attempt to soothe the pain.

He began to pick up his pace before you said anything. It was almost as if he could read your mind.

Your right hand trailed up to settle on the nape of his neck and entangled your fingers in his hair.

"God, you're perfect.." He choked out. "Are you close?"

You nodded without hesitation.

"I'm..."

You hated how dazed you were throughout it all. You were reduced to some sort of babbling mess who couldn't even string coherent sentences together.

The feeling came in waves, the way his hips rolled deliciously against you was the final push and a cry tore from your throat as your body went limp.

Caesar came close, seconds apart from you as he let out strangled gasps and buried his face into your neck.

"Thank you for making me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world." You said, shyly.

"Why would you thank me, beauty? You shouldn't need me to feel that." He said, firmly as he tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and leaned in to give a long, languid kiss which ignited your insides again.

You pushed him away with a hand on his chest as you laughed.

Hs looked a little surprised at the shove.

"You're too much for me." You sighed happily.

"Is that so?" He murmured as he pulled your face in with a hand and enveloped your top lip.

"Yep!" You nodded, giggles taking over.

"Bye Caesar, bye Jojo!" You chirped happily out from the back seat as the windows were rolled down. "Thank you for everything, Suzi!"

"No problem at all!" She called out, beaming.

Joseph turned his nose up at you, Caesar gave a wave as your car began to drive off.

"I have never seen her so...over the moon." Joseph stated, arms folded. He turned to Caesar.

"You happy?" He said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Caesar responded, pulling a face.

"I'm sure the whole neighborhood could hear you two."

"Don't tell her that, I'm sure she'll tear her hair out." Caesar sighed as he shook his head.

"...You better treat her right, you know." Joseph said, voice frosty.

"She means the world to me, Jojo. The day I mistreat her is the day I’ve lost my senses." He said firmly, emerald eyes stormy. "I want to marry her when we get back."

"Not if I get married first!" Joseph exclaimed.

Caesar wrinkled his nose at Joseph and walked away from him.

"Caesar, come back! I was only joking! You better let me be your groomsman then!" Joseph said as he chased up to Caesar and attempted to headlock him.

Caesar tried to maintain a face in disgust as he squirmed away from Joseph’s grip but a smile tugged at his lips, regardless.

Twelve years later

You leaned against the doorway of your kitchen after you kicked off your heels in the hallway.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" You grinned.

"Who would've thought my wife would become a cornball, huh?" Caesar chuckled.

"You definitely rubbed off on me." You sighed as he placed the pot on a dormant stove and pulled you in for a hug.

"How dare you? I’m furtherest thing from corny!" He cried out, causing you to snicker.

"How's work? You tired?" He asked, softly.

"I can't remember a time where I wasn't tired.." You laughed as you rested your head against his chest.

"My poor baby.." He tutted as he swayed you side to side. You felt his palms begin to slide downwards to the curve of your backside.

"I just knew there was an ulterior motive to this hug." You snickered then gasped loudly as he pinched the flesh causing you to jolt.

"Mmh, you know I can't get enough of you." He said lowly, as he rested his forehead against yours. He trailed open mouth kisses along the column of your throat, sending shudders down your spine.

"Caesar.." you sighed against his lips.

"Yes, my love?"

"You know...we have guests...soon...we can't..." You murmured between his constant kisses.

"You don't think I know?" He chuckled, then released you from his firm grip. "I'll lay off for now, but I'm holding you to that later."

"If I'm even awake.." You muttered, out of his earshot.

You heard a familiar pounding from the stairs as the little boy bounded towards you.

"Mommy! I missed you!" The boy exclaimed as he draped his arms around your neck.

"Hi baby! I missed you even more!" You cooed as you showered your beloved son with kisses. "What did you do today? Tell me, tell me!"

"Cleaned my room for Holly!" He said, triumphantly.

"That's my good boy!" You grinned.

"Hey!" Caesar pouted. "How come Daddy doesn't get this type of response...?"

"Cos you're home all the time, duh!" Your son retorted.

"Oh, he got you good." You cackled as you threw your head back.

"Whatever." Caesar muttered as he went back to preparing food.

"What time did Suzi say they were coming over again?" You asked.

"Like six-ish. Joseph's work schedule is a nightmare." Caesar stated. The doorbell rang.

"Speak of the devil, huh?"

"I'm gonna go to my room! I can't wait to show Holly my new toys!" He said excitedly.

"Okay honey! Have fun!" You said as he zoomed back up the stairs.

You opened the door to see Suzi, Joseph and their little girl at your door step. You and Suzi immediately hugged each other and squealed with delight seeing each other after so long.

Joseph had an indifferent attitude seeing you but warmed up when he set eyes on Caesar. You ushered the trio in immediately.

"Ah! There's my big girl!" Caesar grinned as he swooped Holly in his arms and twirled her around.

"Faster, faster!" Holly cried out.

"Nope, I need you to not hurl before you eat dinner tonight." Caesar remarked after he set her down and ruffled her hair.

"I wanna go again! I won't puke, seriously." She protested as she stomped her foot.

"She's real spoiled nowadays." Suzi giggled.

"Takes after her father, I suppose." You stated as you shot Joseph a look.

"Hmph. Where's Julian?" Joseph asked with his arms folded, referring to your son.

"In his room, Holly you can go play with him upstairs if you want!" You said, changing your tone. "He's been excited to see you ever since I said you were coming over this morning."

"I wanna see him too! Okay, Auntie Y/N!"

"Make sure to come downstairs when I call you guys." Caesar stated.

"Uh huh, Uncle Caesar I promise!" Holly grinned as she bolted to julian's room.

"What kind of nerdy name is Julian?" Joseph remarked.

"Kiss my ass, Joseph."

"Y/N." Caesar hissed through gritted teeth.

"What? We go through this every time, the kids are nearly ten for god's sake."

"Einstein here wanted to name him Julius but I thought that would put a target on his back for bullies so I opted for the normal one." You shrugged.

"Whatever." Caesar snorted. "I'm sure with a name like Julius he would've gone on to great things."

"Not a great ending though." Suzi stated, earning an eerie silence from the three adults. "...What?"

Everybody burst into hysterics at the morbid statement. In true Suzi Q fashion she blinked at everybody's reaction but joined in the laughter nonetheless.

Things were a little frosty between you and Joseph since you worked for his rivals in at an estate agency but you both still retained deep care and love for each other. Despite Joseph's pettiness.

Caesar had connections with the Speedwagon Foundation and worked alongside Joseph if there was any bizarre going on in the world but he mostly stayed at home and did the upkeep since you were so busy all the time.

But he was planning on opening restaurants and café's across town just like his beloved maternal figure had done.

Your children attended different schools but still were close and spent free time together.

It was hard to believe this was the future you were living. With both Caesar and Joseph being missing and gravely injured that year, you would've never thought you'd be having dinner dates and living in marital bliss.

There was ups and downs of course, but Caesar had made a specific vow to you that he intended to follow through no matter what.

That he would do anything to keep that smile on your face.

author’s note: yes i made caesar a malewife 😭

#jojo's bizzare adventure x reader #jjba x reader #jjba x y/n #jjba x female reader #caesar anthonio zeppeli #caesar zeppeli x reader #caesar anthonio zeppeli x reader #jjba fanfic #⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ nara scribbles

65 notes · View notes

sagaduwyrm · 9 months

Text

See No Evil (Wipe Clean My Sins)

It was Nocturne who explained it to him first, the God of Dreams and Nightmares shocked that no one else had tried. Maybe they had. Danny hadn’t been the most aware in the early days, every shape he took too-big-too-small and the Infinite Expanse of the Infinite Realms resting heavy on his shoulders. When you are a god, the Sleeping Ancient said, every act against you is a transgression. When you are a god, every transgression becomes a sin.

It was Nocturne who explained it to him first, the God of Dreams and Nightmares shocked that no one else had tried.

Maybe they had. Danny hadn’t been the most aware in the early days, every shape he took too-big-too-small and the Infinite Expanse of the Infinite Realms resting heavy on his shoulders.

When you are a god, the Sleeping Ancient said, every act against you is a transgression. When you are a god, every transgression becomes a sin.

Danny hadn’t understood what he meant at the time. He couldn’t comprehend how it could matter so much, how a sin against a god could twist the fabric of reality into knots and bend the flow of time away from its path.

He understood now.

Ellie, his clone, his mirror-child, his daughter , looked the same as the day she was born but for the y-shape carved in her chest as she lay behind him. Before him stood his parents.

“Danny, sweetie, I need you to step away from the ghost.” Madeline Fenton's hands shook with fear. She thought it was fear for her son, standing too close to that dangerous spook as he was. It wasn’t. Madeline Fenton was afraid of her son, the young man that came back from college and stood tall in between his parents and the ghost, blocking their way.

Human instincts were not the most powerful of things. They had sacrificed that capability in exchange for a different kind of thinking, one that let them build grand workings and conquer their planet. Still, something in the depths of the human brain remembered what it was to fear something too big and bright for human eyes to perceive.

Danny’s eyes glinted strangely. His shadow thrashed on the floor, gentling where it circled the young girl.

“How. Dare. You.” Danny’s voice was steady and quiet, but something at the furthest reaches of human hearing howled .

The Fenton parents exchanged a glance. Jack Fenton spoke carefully. “Danny-boy, it’s a ghost. It isn’t a real person.” His voice picked up in excitement. “And just look at all the data we’ve already captured!”

Around them, the fabric of reality twisted, rippled, and fractured like a mirror dropped from a great height. The Fenton’s kept their eyes on their son, something in them quailing at the idea of looking at the cracks in the corners of their eyes.

Danny snarled. “That ghost is my daughter. Your granddaughter.”

Now they were alarmed. “Danny, if it has you believing it’s your daughter, we need to get you away from it right away. The GIW has a good program for detoxification from ghost control, they’ll help,” Maddie said. She wanted to turn and walk up the stairs, lead the way so her son would follow, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe that if she went outside of the basement the rest of the world would still exist. Somehow, it felt like the only thing that was still real was the space between them and their son.

Danny closed his eyes and let out a tired breath. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay son!” Jack smiled. “Just come over here and let us make this right.”

Danny kept talking like he hadn’t heard him. “I hoped you could change, that you would change. That you loved me enough to be better.” He met their eyes and his gaze was pained and filled with sorrow. Their hearts started picking up in their chests.

“I love you.”

"But I won't make the same mistake with Ellie that you did with me."

The world screamed . The weight of the Infinite descended all at once, tearing through fragile three-dimensional reality to reach the sinners standing before the King. The Fenton parents had time for one cut-off scream before the world settled and stilled and they were gone.

The High King of the Infinite Realms collapsed into a grief-stricken pile on the ground, pulling his daughter gently into his lap as he sobbed.

121 notes · View notes

siempre-bucky · 1 year

Note

Hi lovely! I hope you are well!! <3

First time sending an ask so if this doesn’t spark any interest, you can totally ignore the blurb weekend request!

#16 from the 2nd prompt list: "Dancing is a dangerous game."

character: Hangman

Regardless, thank you! You’re an amazing and very talented writer :)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Dancing with Jake Seresin was a dangerous game. One look as he twirled you and you'd fall in love. But would that be so bad?

wc: 1.1k

A/N: I got a lil carried away, Gigi!!!! I love this prompt so so much and I'm such a sucker for writing Jake fics. I hope you like it!!

Join my blurb weekend!

You didn’t really want to be here tonight, dressed in a long satin gown (it was a nice change from your formal Navy outfits, but you wouldn’t admit that) and shoes that made your heels ache. But it was the last party you and the other daggers were legally obliged to attend, and thankfully this one was hosted by Admiral Kazansky himself.

It was more than the outfit, forced smiles, and droning small talk. It was him: the tall blond with an ego the size of his home state. Jake Seresin had caught you in his sights years ago when you two were trying to establish yourselves in Top Gun. As any smart girl should, you stayed away from the man with hypnotizing eyes and a cute accent. He’d only break your heart, you told yourself once spending some time with him at The Hard Deck right after telling yourself, I could fall in love with him.

He never got the hint, his continuous flirting, and lingering glances kept on after all this time. Jake upped the ante at the first post-miracle mission event, “Dance with me,” he asked, his accent laid on thick and dripping with charm when he spoke your name. You remembered how your heart skipped a beat and the way you paused while looking at his extended hand; you wondered what it would be like to feel the touch of his hand. You didn’t dare to look into his eyes, excusing yourself and faking being called over by a member of the Brass. Every party after that—he’d ask—you’d say no.

Dancing was a dangerous game.

One look into emerald green eyes, being twirled around a dance floor meant losing this game you felt like you were winning. You weren’t falling in love with Jake Seresin.

It was almost cinematic walking into the hotel’s grand ballroom, looking out into the crowd, and seeing the aviator looking directly at you. “Shit,” you muttered to yourself, surprise dropping to the pit of your stomach. Why weren’t you looking away? It was like you were giving him an open invitation, like a wrong move on a chessboard.

You knew why. Deep down you wanted to lose, give in and take him by the hand. Maybe he’d love you right? Take you out instead of taking you back to his place like all the girls before. It pained you watching him leave with girls he picked up at the bar, but this was what you wanted, right?

Jake started to make his way through the crowd, grinning and charming his way around the Naval men who offered their congratulations. Your legs felt like concrete, unable to move and fade into the crowd. Those green eyes got closer, and the colorful lights from around the room painted his skin so beautifully. “Evenin’, Y/N,” he greeted, sticking his hands casually in the front pockets of his black dress pants.

“Jake,” you greeted, tilting your chin upward, “You look nice.”

He smirked. “I don’t hold a candle to you, Navy issued clothes don’t do you justice.”

He took the lead in this imaginary game and suddenly your tongue felt heavy, unable to speak without giggling like a schoolgirl. Swallowing the nerves, you smiled politely and thought of a way to get out of this. “I should go and fi-”

“Dance with me?” he cut you off. You watched Jake smoothly take his hand out of his pocket and held it out for you.

“Jake, I don’t dance,” you chuckled, trying to keep the mood light.

“Ah,” he dismissed, rolling his eyes, “You’re a better liar than that, come on. Besides, this is the last one—you won’t have to see me again for a long time.”

You didn’t know what hurt worse, not seeing Jake on a regular basis or the soft pout of his lips.

Dancing is a dangerous game.

He’ll only break your heart.

What if he doesn’t?

You’ll wake up in a cold bed.

His hand looks warm.

Your eyes flashed upward, counting the colors in his eyes as you put your hand in his for the first time. Jake smiled, it never looked as genuine as it did at that moment, leading you to the dance floor. He looked back every so often to make sure you were still following, his grip tightened as the crowd condensed.

The music had slowed, not that you could focus on it because of the pounding of your heartbeat. You fought off making a visible show of your timidness as he guided your free hand on his shoulder and his found purchase on the small of your back. “Was that so hard?” he teased, beginning to sway to the music.

Yes. “As long as we don’t have to do this ever again,” you chuckled.

“What’s your problem with me, Y/N? You’ve been avoidin’ me.”

“Have not.”

“Don’t make me say ‘have too’, we’re adults,” he joked matter-of-factly.

You rolled your eyes and inhaled, fighting off a shudder as you caught a whiff of his cologne. Your gaze swiveled from the crowd over his shoulder to his chest. It looked so inviting, almost comforting.

You could still win this game if you don’t fall in lo—

“Did I upset you? Is that why we don’t talk anymore?” He asked, his voice soft and close to your ear.

“N-no,” you managed, voice wavering. “You didn’t upset me, Jake.”

“Then what is it?” His genuine confusion made your lips fall into a grimace. Hangman never asked what he did wrong—ever. Confidence was his main ally and that got him far. It was then you realized there was a difference between Jake and Hangman.

There was a long pause, you could see how his eyes softened right in front of you. Fuck the game. You leaned forward and placed the side of your face against his chest, hearing the faint thump of his heartbeat. “I didn’t want to be one of those other girls you dance with. One dance and you take ‘em home.”

“You’re more than that,” he defended instantly, “wouldn’t have asked you to dance every time, wouldn’t try to take up space when we’re together.”

You pulled away and kept your hands and your side, “and what happens after?” you asked in frustration. Frustrated at yourself for surrendering all your defenses.

Jake thinned his lips and furrowed his eyebrows. You were as stubborn as him. He jolted forward and put his hands on the side of your face, pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips moved together like you two had been lovers for the longest time. You were grateful his hand kept you from melting.

Jake pulled away, his lips ghosting over yours. “That,” he confirmed.

“And after that?” you whispered against his lips.

“I fall in love or burgers on the beach? Either works for me,” he laughed.

You shook your head at his comment and giggled lightly, leaning in for another kiss.

Dancing with Jake Seresin was a dangerous game, and you’ve never been happier to lose.

#siempre buckys blurb night #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #top gun maverick

233 notes · View notes

yujo-nishimura · 6 months

Text

The Escape - Part 2

Warning: A little bit of angst and sadness, female reader, One Piece based storyline mixed with my own weird creativity. This will be my personal Nanowrimo project I want to share with all of you. Hope you can enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing.

Content notes: Small buggy turning into big Buggy later during the story, love, romance, female reader who will experience a strong character development, SFW for now, might add NSFW later.

The two strange creatures introduced themselves as Gaimon (the box creature) and Buggy (the dwarf clown). They seemed to have a great interest in you, being the only tall person on this island and seeming to be a pirate as well. Carefully they turned you on your back to check your injuries. Gaimon, who seemed to know the island a bit better than Buggy, brought you some water and fresh fruit, the nourishment immediately bringing your throbbing head and your whole body a quick relief.

“How did you end up here?” Buggy asked, still scanning your carefully, not sure if he could trust you.

“I wish I could remember. I only know I set out during the night away from our ship…”

You decided to not tell them that you ran away - this was none of their business and you also did not want them to become suspicious of you for being a traitor or a weakling.

Gaimon offered a logical explanation for your current predicament, assuming that you had likely encountered a fierce storm, miraculously surviving its wrath and finding yourself washed ashore. As he shared his thoughts, he extended another container of water to quench your thirst. Instantly, a soothing relief washed over you, alleviating the discomfort caused by dehydration and sunburn. You still felt very hot, coming from a winter island and being with the snow pirates, the attire of the crew was fur and warm winter fabrics. Now, in this tropical paradise, your torn and inadequate garments only worsened your discomfort, trapping the heat against your skin.

You couldn't be bothered and you nonchalantly removed your shirt, revealing a bikini top and exposing more skin to the curious gazes of the peculiar beings beside you. You noticed a bashful tint in their eyes, a reaction to the unexpected sight. While these creatures possessed unconventional appearances, it dawned on you that they were, after all, simply men.

You took a closer look at Buggy as well - you seem to recall that you had seen his wanted poster somewhere in another town and probably more often in the East Bleue before you entered the Grand Line. Despite his size his face was very handsome and his eyes had something captivating. As you focused your gaze directly on him, another blush crept across his cheeks, intensifying his reaction. He took a few hesitant steps backward, creating a physical distance between the two of you.

“How did you both get here?” you ask now and Gaimon tells his story of trying to find a treasure and falling into a box while doing so. You are surprised that this is how he ended up in the state he was now in and not having a coddled childhood as you suspected at first glance. He enjoys talking to you, seeming to be deprived of human contact. As the conversation unfolds, you gradually regain your strength. After several cups of water, a sense of vitality returns and you can finally fully sit up.

Then the clown starts telling his story - Buggy's voice trembling with a mixture of anger and spite as he narrates the story of his pursuit of a notorious pirate who had stolen his body parts. His words carried an air of desperation, reflective of his burning desire to escape from this place and exact revenge upon this particular pirate. You are somehow scared and fascinated by his determination. However, you are also glad that they do not ask what your plan from now on was. Since you had simply no clue what to do.

Gaimon seems to feel your distress and gives you another big, inviting smile:

“Would you like to join us tonight for a little drink and barbecue at our fireplace? Our dear Buggy is planning to leave the island tomorrow on a raft and we want to bid him farewell, don't we?”

You are still not sure if you can trust Buggy, but Gaimon seems like a simple minded, friendly creature so you agree to join them both. What other options do you have anyway? You are still feeling a bit too weak to build yourself a new boat and being with two strange dwarfs sounds at least more entertaining than a lonely night in the woods.

You slowly start to stand up, still feeling shaky in your legs, but trying to assess how much you can walk. Aware that you might need to defend yourself if the situation demanded it, you prepared for the worst-case scenario. Buggy and Gaimon, both barely just reaching your knees, cannot assist you, but you feel stronger than initially expected.

“You are in better shape than we thought. We first had the idea to eat you in case you were dead!”, Buggy chuckles.

With a firmness in your voice, you assert, "I will kill you both first and roast you on the fire if you dare to try anything." Despite your attempts to sound convincing, an underlying tremor betrays your words. Deep down, you carry the weight of past experiences aboard pirate ships, where the presence of female pirates often led to dismissive attitudes and a lack of regard for their skills.

Buggy still cuckles but Gaimon seemed to be impressed.

“Which pirate crew were you in, if I may ask?”

“The Snowland pirates.” you sigh. You are all too aware of their notorious reputation, their name synonymous with fear and ruthlessness. However, as a member of this crew, you couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment in how it failed to live up to your own expectations.

Buggy seems to be impressed and stops laughing for a moment. He looks up to you, walking now slowly on your right side. As you look down on him you somehow cannot deny that he looks adorably cute and that thought kind of keeps bothering you until you reach the fireplace of these two island survivors…

#one piece #buggytheclown #one piece buggy #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #nanowrimo #fanfic #long fanfic

63 notes · View notes

isagisbabygorl · 7 months

Text

pov: he’s your bodyguard <3 (suggestive!)

“i don’t need a bodyguard.”

i cross my arms over my chest as my dad sighs. why is my family paying so much money for a bodyguard? especially a bodyguard from the well-known and strong gojo clan.

“are you guys affiliated with the yakuza or something?”

“no it’s not that.” my dad sighs again at my question. “it’s just for your own safety, okay?”

“i can barely go out on my own. i’m 25, may i have to remind you.”

my dad begins to get irritated and dismisses what i said. “this is satoru gojo.”

i look at the man. first impression: he’s hot. he’s tall and handsome. white hair, cerulean blue eyes, has a muscular build. the facial expression he’s wearing looks like a mixture of cool, serious, bored, and tired.

“hi gojo, i’m (name),” i reply. he says nothing in return, but just gives me a small smirk.

“thank you gojo for watching over our daughter,” my father says, finally showing a smile.

“it’s no problem,” gojo replies.

“you can go home,” i tell the white-haired man.

“(name)! for goodness sake, can you stop being such a damn brat?!”

“i never asked for a bodyguard.”

“and i never asked for a daughter.”

my mouth drops in shock. “was i a mistake or something then?”

my dad realizes what he just says and pinches his nose. yeah, i hope you get a ragingly painful headache for that. i glance over at gojo who’s just standing there with that same rather cool smirk.

“maybe use condoms next time?”

all it takes is one step from my dad and gojo is in between us. talk about fast reflexes…

“yeah, i don’t need a bodyguard.”

“i don’t care what you think! he’s staying and that’s final,” my dad snaps.

“whatever.” pissed off at everything, i walk out of the house. of course, gojo is following me behind. i can sense stares from people but i could care less. i mean it’s not everyday you see a 6’4 muscular man following around a small girl like a guard dog.

“you can go home,” i tell him for a second time.

“uh, no. sorry, but that’s not my job. my job is to protect you and keep an eye on you, remember?”

“i’ll be okay. i’m sure you’re tired.” i take note of dark circles growing underneath his bright blue eyes.

“tired or not, i have a responsibility in my hands. and that responsibility is you.”

i stop in my tracks. this causes him to stop, too. i take this moment to turn around and look up at him. “how old are you?”

i can tell the question catches him off guard. “i’m 28. why?”

“just wondering.”

i turn back around and continue walking. an orange glow from the sunset casts itself over the city. it’s beautiful and manages to calm me down a bit.

“where are we going?” gojo asks.

“to a hotel.”

“... why?”

“i wanna get away from everyone.”

eventually, i find a grand hotel and step inside the lobby, getting a room. i only get one room with one bed. i don’t expect gojo to come inside with me and hope that by having to stay outside the door, he’ll get bored and go home. maybe. am i being cruel? i just want to be alone right now and have privacy.

even the elevator ride to the room is quiet. but soon enough, i find my room and unlock the door with the card, stepping inside. “you can go home, gojo,” i say for the third time.

before i can close the door, he stops it. he puts his hand on the door as he looms in front of the doorway. he’s so tall that his head is practically touching the frame.

“did you not hear me the first time?”

“i was listening when you talked about me being your responsibility and all, but-” i tried to close the door but it wasn’t budging. gojo’s palm pressed firmly above my head on the door prevented it from moving even an inch.

“uh huh.”

gosh, this angle is bad. i hate the way he’s looking down at me and the way his arms flex whenever i try to close the door further. i wanna trace the dips of his muscles with my-

“distracted?”

i snap out of my thoughts and see him smirking. that might just end me. actually… am i ovulating?

“no,” i lie. he sees right through it. crap.

gojo takes advantage of my state and lets himself in, closing the door and locking it. i take a few steps back to give him space between my body and his but he’s quick to close it, leaning down to match eye level.

“relax, i’m not gonna hurt you. or kidnap you. or murder you.”

of course, he sounds sketchy saying that but i can tell that his tone is genuine. still, him being this close is making my heart race.

“look, if you don’t leave…”

“... what are you going to do?” he smirks more. it’s tempting to say the least.

“i’m gonna…”

“gonna do what?” his mouth is close to my left ear. it’s low, deep, and husky.

“i’m gonna shave your head bald!”

gojo stands back up straight and laughs. “haha, you’re cute. and funny.”

i blush at the comment. ugh i can’t take this anymore. i put my hands on his chest and attempt to push him back but he doesn’t move. just like the door.

“how much… protein… do you eat?!” i say in between breaths, trying my hardest to push him but he remains firmly planted.

“i don’t keep track.”

then gojo decides to stop being a tree and i end up pushing him back against the hotel room door. it makes a loud sound and i gasp.

“oh my gosh, i’m so sorry! are you-”

“woahhh,” gojo teases me. “just what do you think you’re doing?”

i turn crimson red at his words and immediately take multiple steps back, covering my face with my hands.

“awww don’t be so embarrassed. i’m just playing.” gojo walks past me and slumps in the chair. he just has to manspread, huh. “i’m staying here. if you try to run, i’ll catch you.”

“what if i just sneak out when you sleep?”

“i barely sleep. i’m also a pretty light sleeper and can tell that you’re very tired yourself. long day, right?” ugh he can read me too well. i watch as he takes off his black compression shirt in front of me. is that appropriate?

“um well… you should get some rest though. at least 8 hours. you look tired,” i say.

his gaze at me softens. “it’s okay, i’m used to getting only 4-5 hours.”

i feel bad and for a moment, i’m quiet. “i can sleep on the floor tonight. i’ll make a makeshift bed and-”

“no no, (name), it’s okay, i can sleep on this chair-”

“i’ve slept on the floor before a couple times already and it’s quite comfortable. don’t worry, i’ll be alright.”

gojo was adamant about me not sleeping on the floor. “no seriously, i-”

“hey, they have food service here!” i change the topic, picking up a menu on the table. “hungry?”

gojo shakes his head. “i’m alright.”

“mmm okay. i’m gonna get a bottle of red wine.” i begin to dial the food service number. the person on the other end of the phone picks up and i order the most expensive bottle of red wine on the menu.

after hanging up, i tell gojo i’m gonna shower. i end up showering faster than i expected and come out to see him still on the chair, but with his eyes closed. he looks completely relaxed. i can’t tell if he’s just resting or asleep.

my eyes wander across his bare torso. gosh, how much does he bench press? his chest is broad and huge. his firm shoulders are literal boulders. i also notice how big his biceps are. i can’t imagine how much they must pop out if he flexes them on purpose-

a knock interrupts my thoughts. “food service!” a voice yells from outside.

gojo and i make eye contact for a second as he opens his eyes due to the sudden voice. i immediately break it and head to the door, thanking the worker and getting the wine i ordered.

i find wine glasses in a cabinet and pour myself some. “want any?” i ask gojo.

“i think it’s best if i stay sober,” he smiles.

“low tolerance that’s why?”

“nope. how are you with alcohol?”

“i’m uhh…” all i took was a couple sips and my cheeks already feel warm. “i have a low tolerance to it but it’s fine. i don’t do anything crazy when i’m drunk.”

“is that what your friends told you?”

“i never really drank with friends before.” i finish my first glass and immediately refill it. this was some good vintage wine.

i’m not sure how many glasses i drank. gojo and i made small talk, like him just getting to know me better, but my memory was becoming difficult to organize. like is it just me or has he been looking at me… hungrily? must be my imagination.

“you’re… not gonna sleep?” i ask. i’m sitting on the floor, my left elbow on the bed as i use my left hand to support my head.

“not yet,” gojo replies amusingly.

i yawn and get up. “well i might.” i open the closet to find spare pillows and blankets and set up a little bed on the floor.

“hey, i said you could sleep on the-”

i grab gojo’s hand before he can finish and lead him to the bed. i then gently push him down and crawl on top of him. “you,” i point at his chest. “are sleeping here tonight.”

gojo just looks at me with wide eyes. he’s shocked at my actions but shouldn’t this be expected? i’m literally drunk. or do i just smell good? the wine smelled like berries after all.

“oh? did you have some wine when i wasn’t looking? your cheeks are flushed,” i tease, poking at his cheeks.

he turns a brighter shade of red. “i was talking to you the whole time.”

“mhmmm,” i slur. my hands unconsciously begin to trace his muscles.

i’m so glad he’s not wearing a shirt right now. he’s so fucking hot.

“you think i’m hot?”

i pause. did i say that out loud?

“yeah, you said that out loud,” gojo chuckles.

“shit… my bad.” uh oh, now i can’t seem to differentiate my thoughts from reality. “let’s make it even. you tell me something on your mind now.”

i can sense how gojo pauses. his jaw clenches. his fists curl up. it’s like he’s holding back something and debating between spilling his guts or keeping quiet. i wanna ask him what’s so badly on his mind but he opens his mouth before i can.

“do you… want to know every single thing that i want to do tonight?”

i nod.

“are you sure?” he asks me this like there’s no turning back if he does.

“tell me.”

“alright, here’s the whole list.” gojo swallows and i catch the way his throat moves. “i want to get a good feel of you. since i’m definitely not going to let you get away with hiding yourself from me. then i want to make you feel... good. real good. i’d like that, if you do.”

for a moment, i can’t speak. i can’t move. i can’t blink. i can’t do anything but avert my eyes so i’m not looking at him. he must’ve drunk the wine. he must’ve drunk the wine. he must’ve drunk the wine. “how do you want to get a good feel of me?” i blurt out.

“how do i want to get a good feel of you?” gojo rubs his hand up my arm. “i want to touch every single part of you.”

those words alone make me want to take this stupid oversized t-shirt off. his touch is driving me insane. his hands are rough from callouses and i can tell they’re from weight lifting. oh to be the bar he bench presses-

“is that a no?”

i kiss him before he can say any more. like hell i would say no to him.

his lips are soft and seem to fit perfectly on mine. he kisses back, but that’s when i realize i didn’t ask him for his consent so i pull away.

“i’m sorry i didn’t ask for consent…”

gojo just stares at me like he was hurt i pulled away. but then his expression eases into a smile. “you can do anything to me, baby girl. do i have yours?”

i nod. such a simple movement seemed to flick a switch in his head because next thing i know, he’s tugging on my shirt and telling me to take it off. he’s begging me.

“please, i want to see the pretty sight you’re hiding underneath.” his breath is hot against my skin. "please." i nod again, looking at the way his hands are clenching on my shirt so hard that his veins are extra noticeable. my shirt is off before i know it and he’s tracing the outline of my black lace bra. i know what’s coming off next.

gojo is sat up a little now. taking advantage of this position, he gently pushes me down, laying me on my back and now he’s the one hovering over me. his frame is huge but his abs are what catch my eye. gosh maybe he should share his workout routine with me.

our lips are back on each other’s. his lips taste a certain way that i can’t describe but it’s addicting. unexpectedly, he slides his tongue in which earns a little noise from me. that in turn makes gojo hum lowly, a guttural noise from the back of his throat.

eventually, he pulls away and breaks the kiss, leaving us panting. but he wastes no time. gojo goes straight for my neck, kissing it softly and it tickles a little, until he kisses harder. the force, especially on that sweet spot of my neck, makes me grip onto his shoulders.

“how am i supposed to stop after that?” his voice is rough, hoarse, and desperate.

“don’t,” i breathe out, breathless even though i’m not doing the physical work. “i want you.”

gojo unexpectedly pulls away, leaving my neck to feel cold and empty. he looks down at me with a smirk. “now that i’ve got you where i want you, i guess i’ll just have to make the best of it. how about i make you beg for it, hm? you say that you want me right?”

i was so needy and desperate that i threw away my self-respect a long time ago. “satoru, please. please touch me.”

gojo pauses at the use of his first name. “say my name again.”

“satoru.”

“again.”

“satoru…”

“again,” he says, each time inching closer toward my neck and collarbone area. he plays with the left strap of my bra and lets it fall to the side.

“satoru.”

“again.”

i decide to say something different. “how about you make me say your name until i lose my voice?”

“watch me,” he replies without hesitation, quick to kissing my neck again. he then softly bites down on my collarbone and begins to suck on the skin. i squeeze my eyes shut. he’s gonna leave a mark but i don’t seem to mind.

“you’re mine. all mine.”

that night was a blur. unfortunately, i don’t remember the rest because i was too drunk. but there was a lot of kissing… touching… neediness…

i wake up past 11 AM which is super late for me. this morning is different though. gojo is sleeping next to me, in nothing but boxers. he looks so peaceful. i’m sure that this is the most sleep he’s probably ever gotten in a while.

i look down at myself. i’m back in my oversized t-shirt i swore he took off of me last night. even the bed i made on the floor is untouched. yawning, i groggily walk towards the bathroom. maybe that was a dream. or… not.

i notice the mark on my collarbone. it causes me to clasp my hand over my mouth. did i… did i do that with my bodyguard? i CANNOT have my parents, my father especially, find out about this.

the rest of the day was spent avoiding the topic of last night. i went shopping, gojo carried all my bags for me, we went on the city’s huge Ferris wheel, and ate dinner at a nice restaurant.

when we got back to the hotel room, we were both exhausted. i couldn’t help but glance at the bottle of red wine on the table. there was still some left inside. that’s when gojo breaks the tension.

“‘i don’t do anything crazy when i’m drunk,’” gojo quotes my words from yesterday. “do you remember what happened last night?”

my hands unconsciously touch that spot on my collarbone. “do you?”

“i remember it in great detail.”

my body shivers a little as i remember the way he touched me. his rough hands were soft, despite his callouses. he touched me gently like i was a fragile, delicate object. like i could shatter any second and i required precise care.

he kissed me like my lips were an addicting drug he couldn’t get enough of. his body connected with mine like our bodies were meant for each other. he touched me in places i forgot about. he told me the most sweetest and most inappropriate things in existence. my ears heard it all, my eyes saw it all, my skin felt it all. he was greedy for me.

“i want to remember.”

gojo put the shopping bags down and held my hand. he led me to the bed as he sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling me to sit on his lap so i was straddling him. he cups half of my face with one of his large hands and looks at me so… lovingly.

“want to do it again sober this time?”

like hell i would say no to him.

“yes.”

a/n: character ai inspired 😞 gojo brainrot is real.

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #satoru gojo

120 notes · View notes

katerinaaqu · 1 month

Text

@prompted-wordsmith

This is for you because your small story was amazing so I want to create one in return! And since you want Helen to speak up more here is a little interaction pre-departure from Troy between Helen and Odysseus because why not!

The city hadn't yet stopped smoking from the night of massacre. Helen feared it never would. The smell of burning wood and asbestos was sticking on her clothes and hair; bitter reminder of the events of the night before. Helen didn't want even to think of the lingering smell of blood; metal and water that she had touched. It was as if everything was red now; hands and heart and bloodshot eyes. She hadn't slept that night or the night after it. She feared she never would again.

She could still feel that this was partially her fault; both the beginning and the end of it. She knew the Horse was a farse; a well-staged plan. She chose not to alert the alarm. She had chosen her side once more. And now women and children and men at Troy were laying down dead or worse. She remembered seeing Andromache being dragged out of the city in chains along with other women. They were to be sold as slaves or given as prices to the kings of the Acheans. The once proud queen was now crying woefully; mourning her husband who was killed. She had been dragged out of her husband's tomb where she went to seek sanctuary. That was the ultimate hubris along with her father-in-law Priam who she heard from a conversation had been slain upon the altar he hoped would grand him his life. She heard it was Neoptolemus, the young man who carried the blood of Achilles in his veins and apparently his rage and temper. Who would have known that a child like that could be so cruel and blasphemous? So full of rage? Helen could not see her infant son in her arms as she was taken away. She didn't even dare to ask. For a brief second Andromache raised her head and her honey eyes stuck within her blue ones. The look was almost accusatory as the tears had given her face reddish lines. Or perhaps it was the self inflicted scratches that she had made in her woe. That second lasted longer than it should be before the queen was dragged away.

"That could have been me..." she thought

However her position was not much different. As she was standing at the peer, she was always guarded by a soldier; obviously her husband wanted both to protect her but also obviously he didn't trust her. Helen couldn't say she blamed him but it still hurt. She was seeing Menelaus talking to Odysseus, sorting out the details. Helen watched her husband and her former fiance in wonder. Indeed how strange fate was! How different the two men were! She could tell Menelaus's auburn hair from kilometers away as they were held together by a band around his head. He was well built and strong, seemed dressed in sunlight. Odysseus next to him seemed the opposite. He wasn't tall. He was barely average, a few decent inches shorter than her husband and a good head shorter than her brother-in-law however he seemed wider in shoulder and his chest resembled a wall dressed in a coat of dark curly hair. His head was adorned with black hair that seemed golden under the setting sun: bushy and curly like a ram held together by various little bands that held his curls tamed under his leather headband. His beard was equally bushy and shaggy even if he had obviously tried to make himself more presentable from the night before. His onyx eyes were bottomless holes. The man seemed tired; prematurely aged that day. Helen knew that he had a similar burden to bare with her. How strange indeed, she thought. The man seemed like coming from the night. And yet he seemed darker now; his shoulders seemed heavier than before.

"Take her home safely"

Odysseus's voice drew her out of her daydream. His voice was hoarse and tired. He seemed aged before his years. Helen remembered again the flamboyant young man that was supposed to court her. Sure his eyes filled with premature wisdom and intelligence gave him an aura of age but she could remember his laughter and smile seemed those of a teenager as if trying to persuade people of his actual age. Now that teen was gone. He was a man now; long past that first youth; a Sacker of Cities.

"Otherwise all this would have been for nothing!"

The timbre in his voice; the seer accusation, hurt her much more than anything besides her husband's distrust. No, at least Odysseus...the wise and prudent Odysseus should understand. Menelaus nodded to his loyal friend and shot her with yet another look. Helen couldn't decide if it was angry or closer to sad. As he walked away she turned again to look at Odysseus. The man barely saw her with the corner of his eye but spoke nothing. Helen couldn't bare the silence any longer.

"Odysseus..." she finally spoke, "Why? How can you be so cruel?"

"Cruel?" His voice was full of disbelief, of anger that made his chest rise like the tide

He turned to her walking like a lion ready to pounce. Helen stood her ground though. She stuck her ocean blue eyes deeply within his black ones.

"Cruel?" He repeated, "I've lost my son's first 10 years because of this war!"

"This war wasn't my choice!" Helen felt the need to defend herself against him.

"It commensed because of you!" The accusation was finally spoken outloud, "Menelaus started this because of you!"

"I didn't know he-..."

"YES YOU DID!" Odysseus finally bellowed making her take a step back, "yes you did...you just didn't think!"

He turned her back at her. He was about to leave but he didn't seem done yet.

"The blood of many brave Acheans is on your hands..."

That was way too much. Odysseus should know better than hurt her this way! This was unfair even if spoken through pain and anger. Bravely Helen held back the tears that burnt her eyes. He wouldn't see her weep!

"If I told you..." she began with the best voice she could master, "...that gods play games with us all the time...that they cloud our judgment... Would you believe me?"

Odysseus looked over his shoulder but spoke nothing.

"You of all people should understand" Helen whispered

"What does it matter what I'd believe?"

"It matters to me!" Helen replied firmly. "Please, Odysseus...at least you...at least you should believe me..."

Odysseus seemed ready to reply but the last minute he stopped himself. He chose silence; cruel and cold silence. He began walking away. Two angry tears ran down her white, rosy cheeks. No she couldn't leave it this way!

"ODYSSEUS!" She yelled after him, "you're a hypocrite!"

That stopped him to his tracks as he turned around.

"What?" He asked almost scandalized

Helen was shivering from top to bottom and her knuckles turned white from clenching them too hard.

"Do you think you're any better, Sacker of cities?!" The last one was spat like an insult like a curse, "do you think your hands are clean? You say that the war commensed because of me! That so many Greeks died because of me! Then what about you, Odysseus? What about all the Trojans killed in the city in that bloodbath?! What about all these women and children that are now piled up to be burnt or eaten by dogs and vultures? Who is to answer for THOSE Odysseus?"

Odysseus of Ithaca was frozen in place, shaking in anger but so was she. And she wouldn't be stopped now. She was Helen of Sparta, Helen of Troy, Helen the daughter of Zeus!

"It was your plan, your scheme that got the Greeks inside the holy city of Troy! It was your idea that gave them the way to sack it!"

Odysseus, the eloquent man seemed now unable to respond. He seemed stripped out of his furious anger although some of it was burning inside. Instead he managed to utter

"This massacre wasn't my choice..."

A sound between humorless and mocking laughter and cry came out of her mouth.

"Oh so you tell me you didn't know? You didn't know that the Greeks who were away from their homes, wives and children wouldn't unleash all their piled hatred? Didn't you know they would burn the city that kept them away from them to the ground so it wouldn't rise again?"

He didn't respond. Helen knew he couldn't.

"You say the blood of the Greeks is on my hands. Then the blood of Trojans is on yours!"

Odysseus seemed to have trouble breathing. She had hurt him and she knew it. Perhaps she had simply voiced everything he had in his mind all those days. She could remember how tenderly he spoke of his wife and son. Her husband used to say he identified himself as father of Telemachus not son of Laërtes. Women and children...his son and wife... He seemed ready to either lash at her or leave. However as always The Man of Many Ways sighed and did the unexpected; he spoke again.

"It doesn't matter whether I believe you or not, you know. What it matters is if he does"

Helen took a glance towards Menelaus from a distance. He was preparing the ship. She sighed and returned her gaze towards the man they called "equal to gods".

"But do you?"

"Yes" he finally admitted, "yes I believe you"

Helen sighed in relief. It was her thanking to him

"There is fate between us, Helen..." Odysseus said hoarsely.

Helen didn't need to see his face behind his wide back to read his expression.

"Yes" she replied, "you could have been my husband"

"I am glad that I'm not"

That husky whisper made her look up in wonder. She didn't expect that answer.

"You don't deserve me" the son of Laërtes said, "and I don't deserve you"

He barely looked at her again over his large shoulder.

"I see now why my cousin loved you" whispered she

"And I see why he loved you." Replied Odysseus, "why he started a war for you. Not for his pride; for you. You were indeed worth it..."

He looked at her again for the first time for a while.

"You and I have both blood on our hands" he said grimly, "you, the starter of war, hold the blood of many brave Acheans upon you...while I, the one who ended it, the Sacker of Cities, will have to live for the rest of my life carrying the deaths of Trojans upon me... Women and children..."

He covered his face with his large hand and turned around. He was sobbing.

"Women and children..." he whispered again, "Penelope...my sweet Telemachus...children... infants no older than he was..."

Helen was afraid to ask. She didn't want to know. She had met enough horror for a lifetime. She wanted to move on. She wanted to forget.

"Get home safely, Odysseus" she wished to him, "Husband to Penelope...father to Telemachus. I hope you will get what you wished for..."

"You too, Helen, kissed by the sun like golden Aphrodite...daughter of Zeus. Farewell Queen of Sparta..."

He walked away. Helen heard his voice yelling orders to his men like the expert sailor he was. Helen sighed and smiled so slightly. The title he used...was addressed to her. Odysseus had recognized her admitted her but also signaled her, her fate. She knew now she had a second chance to rectify everything; first for herself and next for everyone else.

The journey had come to an end. A new one was about to begin.

Okay guys I am so sorry I have no idea why or how but yeah...this... I hope you liked it.

#greek mythology #odysseus #the odyssey #greek myth #odyssey #iliad fanfic #homer's iliad #post iliad technically?#helen of troy #helen #helen of sparta #helen and odysseus #him and helen are working through it #the odyssey 1997 #odysseus the master mariner #odysseus of ithaca

35 notes · View notes

if-lost-please-return-to-maliksi · 3 months

Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Emilio(hunter). Full Credit goes to HC -@ask-emilz-de-philz. Please check out their blog for amazing art and the wonderful world of Planet Puto. All involved characters are adults.

Genre: Supernatural, Fluff, Comedy?, Crackfic/ Fic on Crack HAHAHAHHA

WC: 2K

Nothing.

The single word that sums up everything you remembered the moment you woke up in this unfamiliar mansion.

The living room was grand and has numerous framed pictures and certificates hanging on the wall. The furniture was covered and everything seemed unused for some time, except for the library- it's well maintained as if someone took the time and effort to clean it once in a while and make sure the books are properly stored and aren't being damaged.

You were already dead.

How did you know?

Well aside from the fact that it took you days of concentration and sheer will to just hold a single book and turn the pages since everything seems to just pass through you- your lack of hunger, pain, and any other stuff a breathing and living creature needs is very apparent.

You tried going out of the mansion but it seems like you're trapped and is being bound to the place by an unseen force. Is this it? Is this the place you're supposed to haunt forever? You wondered.

What are you even supposed to haunt this place for when you can't even remember a thing? Wouldn't it be awkward to just murmur "Hustisyaaaaaaa-" like the ghosts you read about on the comic books you found on the library? What will you be asking justice for? What if you just died of natural causes? That will be very embarrassing.

You've taken a liking to comics since the pages are much lighter than the normal books and you've gotten used to concentrating enough to turn the pages easily. You usually spent a lot of time reading to your heart's content at the library, wondering if you had the same experiences as the characters when you were still alive.

Your quiet days of being alone only lasted for almost a month when a dark and tall man came with lots of weird tools and what seemed to be weapons. He must be the owner of this mansion. You quickly hid out of instinct before realizing that you're a ghost and he will not see you either way.

The guy was quirky, funny at most on how the first thing he did after getting home was check the library. So this guy is the one keeping all the books clean and in order.

You watched all of his moves- how he checked each shelf as you slowly got nervous when he almost reached the comic book section since it might just be a little disheveled because it takes a lot of concentration from you to move stuff.

Unlike how he looked around on the other shelves, he just took a very brief glance at the comic book section before smiling to himself and walking away while humming some lively tune.

It took him the whole day to tidy up his stuff from wherever he came from and it was almost sundown when he finished. He disappeared into the master's bedroom as you heard the water running from his bathroom. You kept yourself from following him since it felt wrong to violate his privacy in his own home so you just went back to the library to continue reading, making sure to turn the pages as quietly as you can so as to not scare the man.

After a few hours, you can hear strange sounds coming from the living room. You slowly went down to check what it was and found the man slumped on the couch, eating while watching TV. Television. Just like the thing you saw in the comic! You hesitantly walked towards the couch and sat down at the far opposite end to watch what seemed to be some kind of horror movie.

The moment Emilio set foot in his mansion, he saw you right away, hiding behind the furniture- he found it funny. It's not like normal humans will see you, but he's no normal human. He's got this gift ever since he was still a child. The ability to see what the naked eye doesn't. It's not just ghosts, but also other elements and creatures that the others thought were just fragments of the imagination and the mind.

He can see you following him around like a curious child. The first thing he checked was his library where he keeps many of his work's documentation and research. He also noticed the slight mess out of his comic book collections, knowing it was probably you trying to practice moving stuff.

He made sure you wouldn't notice that he could see you so he could continue observing your funny and un-ghost-like antics.

The way it took all of his self-control not to giggle as you politely sat down on the opposite end of the couch to watch TV with him- it was so cute and adorable and the way you looked so invested in the movie made him feel like not wanting to turn it off.

He was tired after being away for a month and he's definitely falling asleep already. Emilio switched into a laying position on the couch, making sure his movements were slow as to not startle you who is currently deeply engrossed in what you are watching.

After the movie ends, you look towards Emilio only to see him fast asleep. Just how oblivious is this human to fall comfortably asleep with a ghost beside him? You softly chuckled to yourself as you politely turned the TV off so as to not have his electricity bill go overboard before slowly retreating to your usual spot at the library.

This encounter has become a cycle- Emilio stays for a couple of days, just relaxing, reading stuff, and tinkering with some small trinkets before leaving again and being gone for weeks.

You've been so used to him that you start to worry when he's gone for longer than usual. Watching TV beside him on the couch has been an activity you look forward to. Upon observing him for months, you finally learned that he is some sort of a hunter- whatever he hunts is something you still don't know though.

Through time, you've also developed more and more control and focus, making touching stuff easier and more natural at this point that you sometimes accidentally knock stuff over. Emilio doesn't seem to freak out or be scared though.

The only thing that's bothering Emilio is the fact that keeping a straight face around you is so hard. He doesn't want you to know that he can see you- but the way you pick up the stuff you knocked over and return it to where it's supposed to be- innocently at that, is just way too funny. You also had the habit of imitating funny faces and even funny dances you see on the tv.

At some point, you ran out of books to read at the library, thanks to the fact that ghosts don't need sleep, so you started following Emilio around whenever he was at home. You find it amusing to watch him study and do errands around the mansion, no matter how simple it is such as repairing some old furniture.

Emilio noticed you following him around more often than usual and the small frown on your face whenever he goes outside to do errands since you can't seem to set foot beyond the mansion's walls, so he started bringing his weapons inside to clean it so you can still watch him.

You were being too nosy, leaning way too closely against his stuff that you accidentally elbowed it, making it fall towards you. Emilio quickly moved on instinct, catching his weapons so it wouldn't fall over you despite knowing that it'll just pass through you.

"You okay?" he worriedly asked before realizing his mistake- he just casually asked you, a ghost a question while looking intently into your eyes.

"Uh, yeah sorry-- You can see me?!" You didn't bother hiding the shock on your face when the man, who you've been living with for the past few months suddenly spoke to you.

Emilio softly chuckled as he shook his head. "Aw, you got me there. Anyway, yes. I've always been able to see you, cutie." he said with a smirk as he leaned his tools and weapons back on the wall securely.

You could've sworn right there and then that you could die for the second time around out of sheer humiliation- all those countless times that you did something really embarrassing replaying in your head. You nervously chuckled before running away, knocking a few stuff over which you immediately pick up and return to its place before successfully exiting the room and seeking refuge in your spot at the library.

For days, you made sure not to make your presence known, spending all your time in solace. You heard the slight sound of Emilio's weapons being dragged on the floor and the brief jingling of his keys as he left the mansion.

"I'll be off and will be back in three weeks. Don't worry about me." Emilio chuckled as he left.

He's a weird human. Like, who even does that? Who just bids their local ghost goodbye?!

You spend your days just chilling and watching tv- which is funny since you saw in a horror movie once how scared the characters get when the television suddenly turns on in an abandoned house.

Rude. What if the ghost haunting the place just wanted to watch their favorite show and everyone is just screaming and freaking out?

Upon putting some thought regarding your current situation with Emilio, and the fact that he can actually see you all this time, you came to the conclusion that you two are basically housemates- just two homies who liked watching movies together. Perfectly normal except for the fact that you are a ghost.

How can he not be afraid of you? How can he not like, ask you to go away? And how can he not call a priest or something to exorcise you out of his mansion? You wondered as you contemplated about asking him those stuff once he comes back. At the same time, you can't help but wonder if he's secretly a loser and is lonely so he keeps you around just so he has some company. Maybe he just wants a friend?

When Emilio came back, you didn't bother hiding yourself as you sat on the couch, a little closer to him than usual.

"Man, we need to talk."

Emilio softly chuckled at your seriousness as he turned around to face you. "Sure. What should we talk about?"

You tried clearing your throat, not knowing how to say it the least offensive way as possible. "Are you kinda...y'know...few screws loose? Cause you not being scared of me scares me."

He looked at you blankly for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. "No, no. I get you. But I'm perfectly normal, thank you for asking."

"Heh, doesn't seem like it to me. Normal people don't talk to...ghosts. Well atleast not so casually like this."

"Normal ghosts aren't as cute as you."

You rolled your eyes as you stared at him in disbelief. "Really? You're gonna go with pick up lines? To a ghost? Man, do you not have any friends? What will happen to you once I see that bright light that will take me to the afterlife? You know, I might go poof! gone, one day."

"Oh, trust me. You won't be going anywhere, Ma'am. You're staying here at our house." He said with a very smug expression.

"How are you so sure? I didn't receive some memo or some contract about me staying here, although you're right. It seems like I can't leave this place."

"A contract you say? We have that one."

You raised an eyebrow as you look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I had it framed and hung up on the living room. Look for the one that says Marriage Certificate." Emilio smirked. "Now, coming home to my wife doesn't sound so weird, right?"

Art by: @ask-emilz-de-philz that's their OC, Emilio del Pilar the local monster hunter. Please support them <3

#planet puto #planetputo #philmytcrea #rp hunter #rp emildephil

41 notes · View notes

rosyjuly · 11 months

Text

galex sugar rush au because i've been hooked on this terrible show and i want baker boys pining and whipping up gorgeous desserts.

The whole thing had been George’s idea.

“No.”

“Alex, come on,” George had said, trying to catch Alex’s eye, but Alex had been looking away, handsome face scrunched up in a grimace.

“Be serious now,” Alex had scoffed. He had finished his coffee with one last gulp and sprung to his feet. George threw his paper cup in the trash and followed him inside, looking at the nape of Alex’s neck as they’d crossed out of the courtyard’s sunlight and back into the dark of the kitchen’s staff entrance.

“I am being serious,” George had said, trying to keep his voice low, avoid drawing attention to the discussion now bordering on an argument. “Listen, it’s fifty grand – think about what we could do with that money.”

Anyway, they’re watching the episode now with Alex’s siblings, piled too close together on the couch.

“Don’t you start it without me,” Chloe says, pointing at Alex, when the microwave beeps. Alex’s apartment is only barely bigger than a studio; with the six of them crammed into the makeshift living room it feels practically claustrophobic, a train carriage at peak hour. The old couch doesn’t have the stamina to support three people anymore and every time Alex shifts it sags and sends George and Zoe tumbling down into the middle, the two of them pooling around Alex in a tumble of legs. George keeps his hands in his lap, just in case.

“I’m telling you,” Alex groans, “you already know the result! Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”

“If it was a big deal you’d have fucking made something,” Luca says without looking up from his phone.

“There’s popcorn,” Alex tells him, nodding at Chloe who’s returning with two bowls from the kitchen.

“Albono, you’re the laziest person I know,” George says. He drags a playful hand through Alex’s hair; the bleached strands are soft between his fingers.

“I deal with enough food during my day job if you haven’t noticed, thank you very much,” Alex says, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t pull his head away though. He picks up the remote and presses play, which finally shuts everyone up, even if just while Hunter March explains the rules of the chocolate-themed episode.

“Aww, I didn’t remember you guys had matching little outfits,” Zoe clicks her tongue.

“George’s idea,” Alex says, reaching around blindly for the popcorn. He’s right. It was: but it’s just blue aprons, nice cotton ones in a deep navy color, big, practical pockets on both sides. George actually wanted headbands, too, but Alex took one look at the bandanas, and said it’s either them or him. It was an easy choice, after that.

George crosses his arms over his chest as the other teams are introduced. Most of them look smooth, in sync; he’s been trying to avoid stressing about how he and Alex will come across.

“We’re friends and coworkers,” he sees himself say on screen, over-articulating the words like he does when he’s stressed. Alex next to him looks almost bored, eyebrow half-cocked at the camera.

“I got him drunk enough to admit that he hired me because he thought I was cute,” Alex says, flashing a bright smirk.

“For the record, I don't have hiring privileges,” George-on-the-screen says after a guffaw. George remembered feeling caught out: it’s not like Toto hadn’t asked him what he thought of Alex after his trial shift, and Alex was definitely his type: tall and handsome with an attitude. And he hadn’t even bleached his hair back then.

“Oh, you guys were laying it on pretty thick,” Zoe says, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

George hums, crosses his arm on his chest. He and Alex look like as much of a well-oiled team on screen as they feel in the kitchen, leaning close together over the countertop, notebook spread out in front of them.

“I think we should do something a bit more out of the box,” George-on-the-screen says, sketching up the bottom of the cupcake. “Peanut butter, raspberry, chili – that’s done and dusted.”

“Why don’t we do a pistachio one?” Alex says. He draws the frosting, dots the top part of the swirl. “Pair it with some nice dark chocolate in the dough, some crushed nuts on top, hm?”

In the next interlude, Alex says, his apron clean, his hair artfully swept to one side, “He makes it tasty, I make it look good.”

George snorts, nudges their knees together. “As if it wasn’t you coming up with that concept and like, half of the others.”

Alex doesn’t answer, but he presses his leg along George’s.

George still can’t believe Jacques Torres was in the same room, that he tasted their cupcake and liked it – liked it enough to name them the winners of the first round, blown away by the richness of the frosting, the satisfying, salty crunch of toasted pistachios.

For the confection, the two other teams already picked ruby chocolate, so they settled on gold instead to set themselves apart. George isn’t sure how much footage will be shown of them – probably more, now that one team’s already been eliminated. But he isn’t prepared for the exact moment when Alex-on–the-screen says, “Why don’t we do ice cream?”, watches with avid mortification how George-on-the-screen immediately nods, face tense, mouth pressed in a thin line.

“I can do it with liquid nitrogen,” George-on-the-screen offers, already checking the shelves for the equipment.

“Those glasses are so funny,” Chloe says, phone pointed at the screen. She’s posting a story about it – George can’t wait to see the mocking caption. Better to focus on how silly he looks while he’s taking out the ice cream of the container, goggles and big, rubbery gloves on, instead of the immediacy he seeks to fulfill Alex’s every request. He’s never even used liquid nitrogen before; only knew the technique in theory. And it showed. The ice cream came out a touch too soft. Not even Alex’s carrot cake crumble could save it; the judges were more impressed by the flambéd bananas with the ruby chocolate soufflé.

But they went through. The girls exhale in relief, and so does George, even though he knows the outcome, has lived it for months now.

In the final round, they have to create a chocolate wonderland; whatever that means. George remembers the paralyzing fear he felt in the moment, blanking – but Alex was already sketching, his face lit up with excitement, hands moving in sweeping, relaxed motions.

“And we can do the ferris wheel with salt sticks,” Alex-on-the-screen is saying.

So they made a realistic Winter Wonderland cake; the fair in a cold, London December, covered in mud instead of snow. A large sheet cake with silky chocolate ganache, on top the barren trees, overpriced amusement rides.

It must look impressive enough, because even Luca puts his phone away, watches the screen with barely concealed attention. Alex-on-the-screen is making the ganache, pouring heated up heavy cream over the chocolate. When he calls George over for a second opinion, he’s offering the spoon, his other hand cupped under it for any spillage. George-on-the-screen is taken aback, blinking owlishly for a few seconds before snapping out of it and tasting. It was exquisite, of course.

When they’re done with the assembly and the piping, Alex-on-the-screen asks, “Do you need me to boss you around?” because George keeps hovering at the edge of the shot, fetching salt sticks and shying away from trying to build the freaking carousel.

“Mate, the editors really liked you,” George snorts, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I had good moments, too! Where are they!”

“Natural charm, what can I say,” Alex says, but he nudges a friendly shoulder against George’s.

It doesn’t even come as a surprise that they win. Their opponents’ cake was, well, cute, but lacked the kind of single-minded focus Alex and him brought to the table.

On the screen, he and Alex hug long enough that something starts fizzing in his stomach, hot and uncomfortable. He excuses himself as the music starts up and Hunter March starts thanking them for watching another episode, stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. It can’t be that obvious all the time, he thinks, because otherwise Alex would have noticed it already, would have said something. Anything.

When he comes out, Alex and Zoe are talking in the kitchen, voices low and hushed. He raps his knuckles lightly against the door. Zoe looks up, face sharp as she says, “I better go, I’m already an hour late to my friends.” Before she leaves, she fixes Alex with one last look that almost makes George flinch. It would be better to flee. Easier, at least. But Alex has always been kind; even if they hadn’t won the prize, if they hadn’t convinced Susie to invest in their confectionery, Alex wouldn’t just blank him.

The front door closes. The flat is quiet again: it’s just the two of them and the dishes in the sink. George itches to grab a sponge and occupy his hands; shoves them in his pocket instead.

“Felt weird to see ourselves like that.”

“Yeah,” Alex says, giving him a small smile. He doesn’t seem mad, truly. “Kinda insane to think about it, still, you know? Winning. Um, the money, of course. Our own place.” He looks down and shakes his head, smiling to himself.

“We make a good team,” George allows himself to say.

“We sure do.”

For a few seconds, they watch each other, the silence stretching like a taut bow. Then Alex clears his throat – George tries to steel himself for the blow, school his face into something neutral enough for the rejection.

“Um. Zoe said,” and he clears his throat again, “she said that I should man up – her words, not mine – that I’ve wasted enough time already.”

“With, uh, with me?” George asks with a valiant attempt to ignore the lump in his throat.

“Yes– no! Not with the shop, of course, just–” Alex scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, I’m getting this all wrong, just, let me–” and then he’s stepping in, cupping George’s nape with a hand as he slots their mouths together. George makes a noise that he’d deny on his deathbed – Alex seems into it anyways, he thinks – and presses closer, kisses him back.

#would i recomment the show? ehhhh #but it's fun and this is like 1.7k written in a few hours just because #galex #little fic #george/alex #idk my own tagging system but what's new!

87 notes · View notes