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honeytrap26 · 4 months

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Only Love Can Hurt Like This

Suguru Geto x Reader (Part 2)

summary: A story about your blooming love and friendship with Suguru Geto. cw: mentions death, blood, gore, betrayal, angst, sad, sprinkles of love and fluff. Tragic love story. aunote: Here is part two of this series. Enjoy and happy reading! 🐼🖤 Total wc:6k+/Part 1/ Part 3/ Part 4

wc: 1k+

Set the mood: The Rose- Angel, Kina Grannis- Can't Help Falling In Love

March 7,2004 -Do you trust me?

Suguru asks you, he’s holding your hand. You're both standing at the top of a skyscraper, the wind blows and dances with your hair. His eyes soften upon hearing your answer.

You jump off the building together, the adrenaline rushes through your body, you look into his beautiful hazel eyes, they light up just like yours, so full of life and love. Your hands are still interlocked tightly, his rainbow dragon flies underneath your bodies and sweeps you up, flying off into the sunset.

It’s been about a month or so since you woke up. The boy you heard talking was Suguru Geto, he saved you after you activated your cursed technique while on the verge of dying. The street was covered in webs. The casualty was a total of five non-sorcerers, three were bystanders and one special grade curse.

Suguru found a beautiful woman standing in the middle of it all, her skin was pale, her hair was long, it draped down her back and dragged on the ground, it was white as snow. When she turned to look at Suguru, she had the mark of a black widow in the middle of her forehead, her eyes were pure white.She wore a long black robe with the color of blood red details that hung daintily on her full figure, it exposed her large bosom.

His jaw was clenched knowing he couldn’t defeat a special grade curse, if that’s even what you would call this thing. He was going to summon a cursed spirit but he stopped when he saw the shikigami get in a defensive position, her body hovering over something, upon closer look he saw your body covered in webs. You were carefully wrapped and laying in a bed of webs.

He was the one that carried you back to Jujutsu High, the one that stayed by your side, when you awoke he nursed you back to health, taught you everything about cursed spirits and sorcerers. He was the one that gave you hope, he was the one that made you want to live and love.

So when he took your hand and asked if you trusted him all you could say was,

-Yes.

August 8,2004 -Welcome back.

Suguru says every night as he waits for you and your partner by the corner next to the gate. Suguru see’s you both walk past the gate, the cool august breeze hits your body. Your partner unbuttons his jacket and throws it over your shoulder. He pats your head and wipes the dirt away from your face.

Suguru stands there waiting patiently for you both. There’s a sting in his heart but he shrugs it off. All he wanted to see was that smile on your face and if it meant that someone else would make you happy then he would settle for that.

Tonight was no different, he waits for you and your partner. Except this time he has a sweater, just in case. A smile appears on his face when he sees you walking towards him, his smile shifts into a frown when he sees you drop to your knees, your uniform covered in blood, your body is shaking.

Suguru rushes over to your side. He drapes his sweater over your body. His hand brushes your disheveled hair from your face, your eyes are dull and lifeless, bags under your eyes, your lips are quivering, your looking down at your hands that are covered in blood.

“I-I c-couldn’t…. save.. h-him…” your voice breaks, you cover your face with your hands.

Suguru pulls you into a hug, your sobbing into his shoulder, he can feel his shirt becoming damp from your tears.

“I-I couldn’t save him Sugu.” you wail,

A painful sting jabs at his heart seeing the condition you're in, hearing you fall apart and cry for your partner. His blood runs cold when he sees a few of the managers carrying a black body bag inside of the school behind you.That was when he decided that he didn’t want to lose you, the day he realized he needed to be stronger. He pulls you tighter into a hug.

“I don’t want to lose you, I don't want to say goodbye.”

Since that day he hopes and prays to any god that you were safe and that you’d come back,

-Home.

February 3,2005 -What was your wish?

You ask, after he blows out the candles to his birthday cake. He looks at you and smiles to himself with a smug smile on his face.

“Not telling you” he chuckles.

“ Oh come on, I want to know.” you set his cake down and slice a piece giving it to him.

“ Can’t it won’t come true if I do.” he takes a bite out of his slice.

“I never took you as someone who cared for that kinda stuff.” you shrug and take a bite.

You look up at the night sky, the stars shine so brightly away from all of the lights from the city. The gentle breeze kisses your skin, you close your eyes and lean on Sugurus shoulder. He looks down at your soft features, he pulls out a small box but quickly shoves it back in his pocket when he hears his best friend kick the door open.

“Happy birthday Suguru!” Gojo yells, walking towards the both of you with sparklers.

“Happy birthday.” Shoko and the boys follow in after him, they wave at you.

“You guys made it!” you jump up and hug all of them.

“I take it you didn’t tell her?” Gojo asks Geto, seeing him fiddle with the velvet box.

“ No, I couldn't do it.” his eyes averted to you, your beautiful smile was finally back after such a long time, you were waving a sparkler around with Shoko. Haibara was taking pictures.

“I can’t take her happiness away from her. Not again.” he opens the box looking down at the promise ring.

“But don’t you love her? My six eyes tell me so.” Gojo says with a grin on his face. before he walks away.

“Sugu! Look, it's the comet shower. It’s starting” you run over and grab his arm jumping up and down excitedly.

The meteors shine brightly illuminating the sky as they travel from one side of the world to the other.

“It’s so beautiful.” you say looking at the comet shower raining down from the sky. Satoru’s question rings in his mind, has he fallen in love with you?

“It is.”he says, his hazel eyes soften staring at you.

Was it when you first woke up and said his name?

How about the time that you made him stay up with you until three in the morning binge watching a romance drama, your eyes were all puffed up the next day.

He chuckles to himself.

Maybe he fell in love when he would come back late from a mission and see you sound asleep in his room, your head laying against his desk.

Or the way you eventually moved from sleeping in his chair to sleeping in his bed, cuddled up to his favorite sweater.

Perhaps it was when he almost lost you, when your partner came home in a body bag and he bathed you for weeks. He would hold you tight in his arms and comfort you when you woke up crying from your dreams.

No, you were merely filling the void that your partner left in your chest…

Suguru sighs,

Did you have feelings for him too?

It was nights like these that you would spend together alone watching the sunrise, sunset, and sitting under the night sky.

The way your hand always brushed against his. Or how he would notice your lingering stare at his lips.

The way you fell asleep so easily when you're around him. It was as if you let your guard down around him completely.

Yes, maybe you did love him and he was in love with you but he didn’t want to get too close and lose another friend.

No you were more than a friend, you were a lover, his lover. You were the one he loved and if you should ever separate he hoped that fate would bring you back together one last time before either of you died.

Suguru and you meet eyes, both of your gazes softening. He places a hand on your cheek and says your name,

“I have something to tell you, I…I love you.” was all he could say. Of course he could go on and on about everything he loved about you and recount how many times you made his heart flutters.

“I love you too Suguru.” you say back with a big smile on your face.

He smiles widely and pulls you into a hug, spinning the both of you around, your giggling his ear, it was music to his ears.

“You asked me what I wished for, I wished,”

-To be with you.

December 24, 2005 -Take my hand.

Suguru kisses the promise ring on your finger then he pulls you into his arms. The lights are dimmed down, a small Christmas tree in the corner of your room. You both are gently swaying to the music.

Take my whole life too. he sings, he twirls you around, his hand on the small of your back, supporting you.

For I can’t help falling in love with you he whispers, leaning down to kiss you.

You lay your head on his chest, you can feel the rumble of his voice as he continues to sing the song.

-For I can't help falling in love with you.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #suguru geto #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #jujutsu x reader #honeytrap🐼

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homicidalfantrolls · 4 months

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Come Back to Me

The months old question is finally answered. (Though it’s not what you think.)

collab with @trollcafe that’s been forever in the making. please enjoy!!!

Part 1

Part 2

doc

It doesn’t take long for Paenit to find Jodiah on the dance floor. Even in a room as crowded as this, overflowing with more trolls than the pilot had seen in sweeps, his limeblooded siren stood out like a signal flare. Spinning in his iridescent dress, his new mask, his boots that didn’t match his outfit in a truly Jodiah manner; it all made Paenit’s heart throb painfully in his chest. He had seen a lifetime of stars, of swirling galaxies, experienced supernovas up close and personal, saw every wonderful and fascinating thing the universe had to offer- but none of that shone as bright as Dia did that night.

Paenit’s eyes follow as Dia spins with his kismesis. Seeing how Mondes was dressed made him feel slightly better about what he had originally intended to come in. At least he wasn’t the only one who was without much of a fashion sense. Though it was difficult to look good when standing next to someone as radiant as Dia.

It took every ounce of courage the cusp’s body contained not to turn tail and run. The beauty of the scene and how completely out of his league he was made everything overwhelming. Commander Almiss didn’t exactly consider himself cowardly—his track record of military operations would prove such. But this was no battlefield. He had traded the safety of gunfire for the hostility of social cues and the danger of a dancefloor. His leather gloves grew uncomfortable as his palms grew sweaty. For the second time that night, he was thankful for the cape draped over his shoulders, successfully hiding how bad he thought he was shaking. With one deep breath, he finally made his way over to Mondes and Dia.

The smaller of the two seemed to stiffen as the highblood approached, but across the floor Dia pulled him aside to mumble something into his ear. This seems to ease the olive’s anxiety ever so slightly, but his eyes stay fixed on Pae the entire time, even as he finally steps up to the kismesises.

Paenit turned to look at Mondes. The latter’s gaze scans the fleet troll up and down like he was searching for some sort of red flag only he could see. The two locked eyes under their masks, passing some unspoken understanding between them. Regardless of whether Mondes found a red flag or not, he steps aside and motions for his kismesis to get on with it. Be it the demonstration of respect, his kismet’s words, or the audacity of interrupting, something convinced Mondes to allow a strange highblood to sweep his kismesis away.

Paenit offers his hand to Jodiah.

Wordlessly, the limeblood takes it.

As gracefully as a man who had never really danced before the week began, Paenit swept him into a dance he couldn’t recall the name of. A waltz? A swing? He wracked his brain for the name, anything to avoid acknowledging just how out of his depth he was. Nostalgia plucked at his pusherstrings. Fondly recalling the time in basic training one of his drill sergeants made the recruits learn the basics of ballroom dancing. To help with grace and fluidity in a fight, that had been the reasoning at the time. If only he had known how he’d use those skills.

Jodiah speaks suddenly and interrupts his nostalgic train of thought.

“You took your time,” the lime scoffs, letting the masked stranger lead him. Despite Dia’s love of dancing he could hardly chastise the other’s skills in it. Or lack thereof. It wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. He pondered over the stranger’s strong hand in the small of his back, the other one holding his in a feather light touch. A gentle hand like that was hard to find. Not a possessive grip, but a confident one. Dia could flop over entirely limp and he was confident this stranger would catch him. It wasn’t every day he met a highblood who treated him so daintily. Dia bit back the initial annoyance that follows—he didn’t let just anyone get away with treating him so tenderly, especially not a purpleblood. But because he was playing nice, repaying the kind stranger for the drinks he swindled from him, he was content allowing such tenderness. For now.

The stranger’s mask prevented Dia from seeing where he was looking, but so did his own. The lime was studying every inch of him that could be seen, drinking in the details like he had the champagne had earlier that Mondes was currently keeping warm for Dia’s return. Sure, he had a decent look at the bar, but he had more time now. His dance partner was tall, but not too tall. Well built, standard for a purpleblood, but worth mentioning. Broad shoulders—oh, how Dia loved a man with broad shoulders—but he wasn’t imposing with his size. His posture was remarkably passive for a highblood dancing with a neon lime.

Their bodies swayed to the music, close enough to share heat, moving in perfect sync. To an outsider, it’d be easy to think they had done this plenty of times prior. Being so close, Dia recognized the cologne now—it was popular amongst highbloods in the Fleet, notably seadwellers. A musky, powerful, oceanic scent—he ever remembered the name of it. Megamare, a stupid name if you asked him. Just about any seadwelling commander had it somewhere in their quarters. Expensive enough to be high end, but not too advanced of a scent to be hoity-toity. It had been applied just right. It was a strong scent, one that could easily choke a person out. The stranger wore it lightly. Just enough to entice, enough to draw Dia in closer. His curiosity only increased at the unique choices.

Seadweller cologne on a purpleblood. A mute, overwhelmingly gentle purpleblood, who picked the masked anon out of a sea of possible dance partners.

“Usually I’m not the patient type. But what can I say, I like dogs,” Jodiah purrs, playfully hooking a finger in the shirt collar of his dance partner. His playful tone did a wonderful job of disguising his curious intentions.

The sudden claw against Paenit’s neck almost makes him trip. It’s a miracle he doesn't—perhaps that drill sergeant’s hard work paid off. He has to bite his tongue to keep from squeaking like the mouse he felt like. For not the first time this evening, Paenit was grateful for the face covering he wore. Though it still hid the identity of its wearer, it had the secondary purpose of hiding his flushed blue-purple face. Paenit was quite confident that even without the heavy cloak he had on, he would still feel unbearably warm. His heart was doing its best to break out of the constraining rib cage; the pilot’s throat seemingly experiencing anaphylaxis for the first time. He wondered if he had somehow been allergic to the whiskey Khirti had bought him. Or if, perhaps, she poisoned it. It wasn’t the thought of the impossibility of her getting the chance to do so that comforted him, but the unlikeliness of Khirti not just stabbing him then and there if she truly desired his end.

While Paenit’s mind raced with paranoid thoughts and panic, Jodiah yearned for knowledge. He studied the silent mask closely, looking for any hint of recognition, any sign or emotion. Some strange piece of him was daydreaming of a Hallmark movie moment. The realistic part of him knew this wasn’t the case.

“Still not much of a talker, hm?” Dia dropped the flirty tone. It clearly wasn’t getting him anywhere. His curiosity had yet to be sated, which only served to annoy him. While flirting got him nowhere, the change in his tone did have an effect of some kind: his dance partner tensing the smallest bit. Dia’s head tilted ever so slightly as he studied the mask once more. Finally, he relaxes, letting the troll take his hand once more, “That’s fine. We can just dance.”

His mind explored grandeurs of romance as they swayed to the beat. Specifically, Dia was thinking about Paenit. He hadn’t the slightest clue who he was dancing with—only that they hadn’t said a word, they wore Fleet cologne, and that a foolish, childish part of him wanted so badly for it to be Paenit. He wanted to tear that mask off and see who truly lies beneath it. He wanted to be twirled around in some grand romantic gesture, to be held lovingly and safely in the arms he missed so badly it hurt. However—Paenit hadn’t spoken to him since the day he left with Mondes. That same childish part of Dia’s pusher ached with hurt at the same time. Hurt and betrayal.

Dia knew his previous commanding officer well enough to know he never showcased himself as a purple blood, and never in his wildest dreams would Paenit Almiss show up to the Yule Ball wearing an outfit this grand.

But he had to know.

God, he just had to know.

Yanking off a strange purpleblood’s mask was a surefire way to get executed the second he left this safe zone. The masked stranger had yet to say a word to him, who’s to say he would respond to a name? Dia had to be smart about this. After what felt like an eternity of swaying in a thick silence, Jodiah sighed softly, wistfully, and rested his cheek on the stranger’s shoulder.

Angled in just the right spot to see the stranger’s chin. To see the scar that decorated his skin.

Not unlike a scar he knew. One he stroked with his thumb as he held his CO’s face. One he kissed often, one he asked about several times and received a different origin story each time, all jovial and light spirited and none likely the real cause. A scar perfectly placed, perfectly colored, going under his chin and stopping right at his neck. He had spent a handful of days wondering how a scar like that must’ve hurt, how the scar’s owner was lucky it didn’t go further.

Now it was Dia’s turn to swallow his pusher back down into his chest. He looked down quickly, deciding it simply didn’t exist if he didn’t look at it. His own heart was racing so fast it was easy to ignore the stranger’s heartbeat. His chest ached with need and overexertion. The rush made him dizzy. The level-headed facade he put on for his kismesis quickly cracked. He wanted the scar to be more than a coincidence. He wanted the scar to mean nothing. He wanted his everyday mask, yearning for the way it drew out excess electricity from his body to reduce the strain of intense emotions on his heart.

They swayed in silence for a few moments yet. He would’ve been content to let that moment play out forever if the burden of knowledge didn’t weigh so heavily on him. Without another word, Dia lifted his head, and slipped the leather glove off the hand he was holding. His stranger missteps—probably from confusion—but in the end it doesn’t matter. Dia stopped the dance altogether. Almost obediently, the stranger stops as well.

There they stood, in the middle of the dance floor. Dia pulled away from the purpleblood to study his hand. The troll didn’t pull away. If anything, he seemed to relax slightly as Dia followed the trail of scars. Scars he knew all too well. Scars like a map to the troll he missed most.

He took the other hand in his, and removed that glove too. He turned his hand over.

There it was. In the space between his thumb and forefinger, was a small heart-shaped oil scar. Followed by a straight line scar crossing each knuckle, and the telltale scars of someone’s fist busting on teeth. The world seemed to close in on the two of them, music fading into the background. Bodies of blur swirled around them as if they didn’t exist. Dia traced over the scars silently, his fingertips dancing over the ragged and calloused skin with a feather-light touch.

Finally, he looked back up, eyes boring through the not-so stranger’s mask, “…You came back.”

Paenit froze. Even if the two of them had long stopped dancing at this point. It was amazing how his blood could run so hot while he was frozen stiff in his boots. Slowly, he curled his hand around Dia’s. They began to move again, stepping across the dance floor. Whether it was an attempt to rid himself of the nervous energy building or to resume a facade of normalcy wasn’t clear. Dia was content to let Paenit take the lead once more, allowing the highblood to guide him as they swayed.

“I had to answer your question, right?” While there had been hope for a suave, confident tone to his voice, Paenit’s response came out as rough and as full of cracks as old runway pavement. Yet another thing that did not line up with his plan. Truly, laying things out in advance was far from his strong suit.

Dia’s demeanor flipped

“So…is it a no?” Dia asked, frowning ever so slightly beneath his mask. Even with his face hidden, Paenit could sense the disappointment. He could perfectly picture the way the lime’s brow furrowed, how his eyes would darken when he didn’t get his way. Just imagining it made him dizzy with yearning.

“I-what? Wh-why would you think it’s a no?” Paenit stammered, almost tripping over himself and sending the both of them toppling over. Quick reflexes once again saved the dance from ending in catastrophe. This time, it’s Dia who encourages them to keep moving.

“Well, you showed up here.”

“I-I know it’s weird but—“

“And I don’t see her with you.”

Paenit sighed. Then he chuckled.

“This…isn’t really her scene.”

—

As Dia folded and put away clothes (not all of which were strictly his) into a surprisingly ragged suitcase, he was as stone faced as ever. No words were shared as he made sure to gather up all the things he had moved into his commanding officer’s block, knowing that nothing of his was left in the one off of his medbay. Paenit had helped Jodiah move things bit by bit until the medbay looked like it had before he moved in. Empty. Sterilized. Cold. Part of Paenit hoped that Dia would want to check, return there just to make sure that he hadn’t forgotten anything.

But he knew he wouldn’t.

“I want Ship Cat.”

For a second, he was sure that Dia had scratched one of the records in the corner of the block. When his eyes shifted up from a pair of pants he was folding and he saw Dia in the exact spot he had been, eyes locked right back on him, he knew he was mistaken.

Paenit can’t help but laugh. Not a laugh he was used to, not one he had done since the days of Dia stepping on his sunglasses and rigging his coffee maker to explode. Sheepish. Unsure.

“You—You want Ship Cat?”

“I want to take her back to Alternia. She deserves to retire too. There’s plenty of kittens that could take her place.”

Paenit’s pusher sinks. He had never been good at saying no to Dia. Never skilled at looking into the flawless green gems that were his eyes and telling him that he couldn’t do what he wanted. He knew in his chest it was not a skill that he would ever develop.

“Dia—“

“Not now,” he interjects, placing the last pair of stolen pants in his suitcase and closing it. “You can bring her to me as your answer when you retire, and become my matesprit.”

Warmth encompasses Paenit’s body so immediately, so intensely, he wonders if the ship was on fire. If smoke and ash were creeping into the ventilation systems, slowly suffocating him and showing him all the dreams of a future he could never have. A future where he could fly planes again, help people instead of hurt them. A future of happiness, green grass and trees and the eyes of his matesprit, Jodiah Monark. A future where he could be happy, where he didn’t have to worry about being taken away to hurt people for a military whose only goal was causing more and more despair. Where they could be together, happy.

It was impossible to say when Dia took his mask off or when he began to approach Paenit. Like a dog drooling for his food at the sound of a bell, the clicking of Dia taking off his mask forced Pae’s eyes to close in anticipation of his kiss.

As their lips connect and Paenit’s arms wrap around Jodiah to hold him close, he could feel an ache wrap itself tightly around his chest like a constrictor killing its prey. It spreads into the admiral’s fingertips, his legs, up to the base of his skull. It screams to him.

Don’t let go.

Paenit lets him go.

Dia steps back, the sound of his mask clicking letting Paenit’s eyes know it was okay to open, okay to see him once more. To see him with the shroud returned over him, blocking out his light from view.

“Don’t take too long.”

Dia rested his hand on Paenit’s face one last time. Then, he was gone.

————

“Where is she, then? Don’t tell me you left her on your ship all by herself.”

“She’s not by herself—“

"So she's still up there? On that damn ship?" Jodiah’s tone is sharp, tinged with annoyance, but hardly as hostile as it could be. As hostile as it would've been had he been dancing with anyone other than Paenit. "You came all the way here, dressed to the goddamned nines, and you didn't even bring me my fucking cat?"

Anxiety prickled at Paenit’s chest, his ears laying flat against his head. Had he a tail, it would be tucked firmly between his legs in a sign of submission. Dia was still dancing, though his footfalls seemed heavier with his annoyance.

“I-I couldn’t take her just for leave—I didn’t—“ Paenit swallowed, avoiding the intimidating eyes of his dance partner. “Didn’t know if you would still…be around.”

"Still be around?" the lime parrots in a voice positively dripping with annoyance, though hushed in tone to keep the other dancers from being concerned about the fight. "Where else would I be? All you had to do was call me, send a text, video message, fuck—email works in space, too! Then you wouldn't have to wonder if I was ‘around’ or not."

“I-I didn’t—I tried!“ Paenit sputtered, tone desperate, “Calls and texts wouldn’t go through and the fleet reads all my emails—I’m not allowed to have a personal account, you know that—I didn’t want them to try to bring you back after—“ he frowns, voice quieting before resuming, ”—after you went through all that to get out.”

He elected not to mention Annihilation’s recent bout of trouble and how it could have possibly affected Dia staying away from fleet custody. It wouldn’t help.

Under his mask, Jodiah’s expression softens. Knowing Paenit made an effort was enough to make him feel like crying. He shakes that feeling off without a word. He wasn’t a crier— he’d had enough of that emotional nonsense to last him a lifetime. Even his dance partner could tell he was still unsettled, though silence fell between them. He wasn’t yet satisfied with the answer he had been given.

When Dia finally spoke, his voice felt small and soft in his chest. Raw and uncertain, showing the hurt and distress his mask usually hid well, "...Well, you should've tried harder." He pulled his hand from Paenit’s to lightly hit his chest, taking out his frustration for something neither of them could control.

Guilt fell over the highblood like a shroud, his ears falling ever further down in his body’s subconscious effort to make him look smaller. The vulnerability in Dia’s voice felt like salt in a fresh wound, making his already aching heart pang miserably.

“…I’m sorry,” Paenit apologizes, even if the both of them knew there was nothing more he could have done. Still, he can’t help chuckle as Dia’s fist lands on his chest, much lighter than expected. He supposed the lime wasn’t as mad as he wanted Paenit to believe.

“I’ll steal a shuttle next time,” Paenit joked sheepishly in an attempt to add some levity.

"You don't even have to steal it- you're a fucking commander. You—Y-You can just—take it,” Jodiah countered, clearly not appreciating the humor. His words are broken up by a soft, sad laughter, as he continued his attempts to bite back tears. "A-A letter would've worked—or j-just, ask my dad to pass on a message? I..." He swallowed hard, throat aching with the threat of closing up entirely, "...I-It's been months, Paenit."

A knife to the chest would have been less painful than hearing Jodiah so broken up. Having experienced at least one knife in the chest before, that was something Paenit could attest to with confidence. His hands traveled to hold the lime’s face, his thumbs pushing under Dia’s mask to rub over his cheeks. Whether or not the other would electrocute him wasn’t the concern at the forefront of his mind. The sudden warmth of calloused hands passing the barrier of his mask forced Jodiah to freeze like a deer in the headlights. Once again, the pair had stopped moving.

“I couldn’t, Dia,” Paenit started softly, “I’m an admiral with no second in command. I can’t leave my ship even when I want to. The only…the only reason they let me come here is because they think I’m recruiting. They think I’m here in a fancy uniform telling everyone how great the Fleet is. I’ve been trying. I never stopped trying to reach you but…I couldn’t.”

He didn’t dare mention to Dia that it was most likely by design. Punishment for letting him go on leave, for letting him stay away so long when his sister went missing. For not finding a way to force him to stay under Pae’s employment. Nor does he—no, can he—mention why talking to Annihilation wasn’t an option. For so many different reasons. Reasons he was not confident Dia could understand, reasons Paenit couldn’t share, reasons Dia may not even care about.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” the admiral murmurs at last, resting his masked forehead to the limeblood’s. Dia relaxed slightly, having accepted that explanation. The certainty of his dance partner’s words, knowing the lengths he went to, knowing he at the very least made an effort- that was enough to make tears well back up. Words caught in his throat before they could be free. Forgiveness, hurt that remained, anger at the fucked situation, expressions of relief and love and sorrow, none of which could escape lest he stutter through his words like a stalled engine in front of his matesprit.

Matesprit.

Now, that was a lovely thought.

He was at the Yule Ball, and he was going to dance with his fucking matesprit.

Dia pulled away suddenly, grasping Paenit’s hand once more. He pulls the purple so suddenly, he nearly trips them both. He grasps Pae’s hand once more, pulling him back into the dance. The motion catches Paenit so off guard, he nearly stumbles and trips them both.

"You can get back to recruiting later—I deserve a dance with my matesprit first."

“Your…matesprit?” Paenit’s voice is barely audible from under his mask. His lungs fail to work and ache with need, his heart seems to have stopped pumping altogether, caught in the momentary excitement as Dia swings them both slowly.

Dia cocks his head expectantly, "Yes?" Paenit could picture his partner’s quirked brow and peeved expression perfectly, annoyed that his thought process needed to be explained at all. It was so easy to bury all those negative feelings, all the hurt and upset that still lingered, far under the surface with the promise of dancing. "You didn't bring my cat. But...you showed up. So I'm taking that as a confirmation."

“Y-Yeah…I-I did show up,” Paenit all but squeaked, as if reassuring himself he did such things. Confidence grew with his grin, wide and vibrant, under his mask. Pae springs to life with a giddy laugh, arms snaking around the smaller troll. He lifts Jodiah into the air to spin him around. Surprisingly, the lime lets him, going so far as to hug him back. His matesprit’s excitement proved contagious: Dia’s laughter joined Paenit’s in a bubbly harmony, holding onto the purpleblood for dear life while being swung around.

Matesprit. That was his matesprit.

Dia’s laugh was more beautiful than any song the band had played that night. Melodic and bright, it erased the weight Paenit had been carrying on his shoulders since he’d stepped inside the massive hall of the ballroom. The anxiety of how the evening would go, how Dia would respond to seeing him again, how absolutely fucked he would be.

Instead, the two were dancing in what felt like perfect sync. Perhaps not skilled, perhaps not enough to win awards or even gain the attention of any of the other couples scattered about the floor. Not that either of them noticed. No, they had stepped into a different world entirely. Where everyone else had faded into the scenery, turning into nothing more distinct than the dozens of windows looking over the sea. The only music was the sound of each other’s breaths, the beat of their hearts drowning out anything else.

Paenit’s hand drifted down Jodiah’s back, resting in the curve of his spine. Dia’s hand pushed into the slicked back hair of Paenit’s. If anyone had remained on the dance floor, they wouldn’t have noticed. They were too busy getting lost in each other.

Panting softly from all the excitement, foreheads pressed together, they stared into each other's eyes from under their masks. Until finally the edge became too hard to balance on.

Paenit’s hand brushed past the beads of Dia’s mask, cupping the lime’s face gently. His thumb danced over Dia’s soft and scruffy skin.

Dia knew what was wanted—hell, he wanted the same. For as much as he wanted to, he simply couldn’t in the middle of the dance floor, so publicly visible. Desire gnawed at his bones desperately. He could practically see his matesprit’s confidence waning.

With a sudden burst of energy, the limeblood took hold of Paenit’s cape and pulled him off the dancefloor. They spun as they went, putting up the illusion of dancing. For all his confusion, Paenit just went along with it, however clumsily. Dia pulled Paenit into him as they turned a corner. Pae’s hands went to the wall to prevent him from crushing the limeblood. The two stood there a moment longer, the heat of the previous moment returning tenfold.

Paenit’s size and cape proved to be the perfect shield. Dia felt safe under him, confident that Paenit wouldn’t let anyone see what lay under his mask. Without a word, Dia’s hands went under the wolfish face blocking his matesprit’s own, slowly removing it. Unveiling the truth he yearned for. His own mask follows suit. Both fall to the ground unceremoniously.

For the briefest moment, they could look at each other’s faces for the first time in months. Bare. Real. Full of flesh and life. Scars, freckles, mismatched blue eyes and blinding lime ones. More than just words and promises, more than a phone call or a text message or even a letter. Flushed cheeks and parted lips and eyes burning with desire. It was easy to forget Dia had a reason to keep his face hidden.

They closed the space between them at the same time. Dia’s hands tangled in Paenit’s hair, Paenit’s kept one hand firmly planted on the wall to shield the two despite his desire to hold his matesprit with both, the other pulling Dia’s small frame against his own. For the first time in months, the couple kissed. They kissed, and they kissed, and they kissed, until they were out of breath and dizzy. They kissed to make up for lost time, to apologize for things unsaid, to prepare for the time they’d lose until they could kiss again.

Eventually, Jodiah would leave. For as much as he loved Paenit, he made a promise and wouldn’t break it. He would return to his kismesis and get a proper scolding for running off and leaving Mondes alone. Paenit would have to return to his ship, to his crew, to his empty block. Painful memories didn’t sting as much, but the loneliness still ached deep within his bones.

They would leave each other once again, with a newly rekindled yearning. It may be weeks, months, sweeps before they saw each other again. But they were both confident. He would come always back.

In the end, the distance wouldn’t matter. As long as they could be together.

#corpse writes #Corpse draws #please read we worked so hard on this……i’m so happy with how it turned out and the amount of effort put in #I love it so much #Paenit Almiss

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 11 months

Text

Do you believe in magic?

@djdraws20

⏳🎆🎪

Apologies for the delay on writing this one!

A-Yuan watches with fascination as acrobats all but fly through the air, performing all sorts of tricks to the beat of the music. The audience claps in time with the beats - and he would too, if he wasn't holding a large thing of popcorn and his favorite juice.

"A-die, look, look!" He all but shouts, pointing to a pair walking a very thin tightrope together. "It's the Yiling Siblings!"

Lan Wangji's eyes follow the pair as they leap and catch one another in a succession of masterful movements. Their outfits glimmer in the colorful lights, and they look - mythical, almost. No wonder they've become so famous, their skill is unlike anything Lan Wangji has seen before. They move effortlessly through the air as if it's in their blood, and Lan Wangji understands why A-Yuan likes watching their shows so much. They're hypnotizing.

The ring master announces the end of their act and people clap and cheer so loudly it's nearly deafening - but before they exist the ring, they bow to the audience and twirl, rushing to the backstage as the lights go out.

"And now..." the ring master says, his voice booming through the audio system, as the lights dim until there's barely silvers puncturing the darkness, "...the star of the show, the one whose very name seeds terror in the hearts of people across the land and sea... the Yiling Patriarch!"

Lights shine red through the darkness and a figure emerges, draped in black, flowing robes, hair dancing in the fanned air. He raises a hand, and the lights brighten - the audience gasps and woos at the appearance of the man, whose figure is surrounded by black wisps of smoke.

He smiles, confident and beautiful and much younger than he appeared to be in the recordings on YouTube - and raises one of his hands, the wisps of smoke dancing together to create a moving pillar of darkness.

He repeats the gesture as the audience claps, and he's bracketed by them as he slowly levitates off the ground, and from within the glimmering lapels of his robes, produces his trademark item: the Stygian Tiger Amulet. Dark smoke envelopes it, and then the entire ring until there's nothing to be seen.

The audience watches, mute with wonder.

In a rush, the smoke disperses to reveal the Yiling Patriarch has conjured a black dragon from the smoke, and lazily lounges on it as its eyes glimmer red just like his master's. From near the very top of the circus tent, he flies over the audience just enough to get them excited, before the Amulet glows red and appears to be absorbing all the smoke back inside, the Yiling Patriarch daintily floating down in the center of the ring.

The lights dim again, and for a moment, it's only his piercing red eyes that the audience sees before the tent comes alive with fireworks - or what appear to be fireworks at least. There is no smoke, but the colorful lights bloom in all sorts of shapes and colors, and by the time that's done, the Yiling Patriarch has already left the ring.

The ring master announces the end of the show, and the attendees walk through the exits, all raving about how amazing it had been. How could the Yiling Patriarch do all those tricks? What kind of special effects was he using? Nobody else in the industry does it quite like him, there must be something super high tech going on behind the scene for sure!

A-Yuan munches on his popcorn as he talks Lan Wangji's ears off about how cool the show was and how much he wishes he could just meet-

"Well, if you want to meet me, I'm right here." A new voice joins in, and the two turn around to see the Yiling Patriarch in the flesh, wearing a much lighter version of the robes he donned in his performance. Lan Wangji can see he's actually - very attractive, to put it mildly. But then again-

"It's really you! You're really so, so cool!" A-Yuan all but shouts and launches himself at the man in a big hug. "How do you do all that stuff? Is it real magic?"

The Yiling Patriarch bends down and ruffles the kid's hair. "What do you think?"

"I think it's magic! It has to be!"

The Yiling Patriarch smiles, soft, and Lan Wangji feels his heart rate pick up. "You're right. It is magic. I can't tell you any more, though, it's a secret. If I do, then I won't be able to ever use it again."

"Oh, no, don't tell me, I wanna see you again! I really love when you do the smoke dragon, but the snake is also really awesome!"

"A devoted little fan, are you?"

"I watch all your shows with A-Die! He likes you too!"

The Yiling Patriarch stands up and looks over at Lan Wangji, a controlled expression on his face, "Long time no see... Lan Zhan."

"Mn. Wei Ying."

A-Yuan is somewhere between shocked and scandalized. "You two know each other?!"

"Distantly." The Yiling Patriarch responds, and A-Yuan is too little to understand the hurt and betrayal behind that simple word.

Lan Wangji looks away.

"Um, mister Wei Ying, can I maybe meet the siblings too?" A-Yuan tries, seeing the two emerge from the circus tent.

As if awoken from a dream, Wei Ying smiles and nods, and the child excitedly runs up to the two with a flurry of questions.

"Wei Ying, I-"

"Save it. It's been a long time ago. Lifetimes ago." His phone rings and he all too eagerly brushes past Lan Wangji. "Excuse me."

Lan Wangji doesn't dare watch him go.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts #i had sooo much fun writing this #what do you think happened? let me know <3

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inkykeiji · 4 years

Note

Many sad thoughts running through my head but I can imagine Dabi having trust issues as you and the other anon saying. Him being afraid of getting left behind. I feel like he would say “I didn’t mean to say I love you” at some point because that’s a type of vulnerable he doesn’t want to be but it’s just one of many thoughts

AHHHHHHHH anon anon why must u hurt me like this?????? pls my whole heart just broke at this and i uhhhhh wrote 1.7k words about it,,,

❅ cw: soft dabi, angst, rly sappy ❅

It seems to happen at the most random of times. It isn’t like the movies, isn’t ever after some profound incident or momentous occurrence shared between the two of you—no, it’s always right after the most mundane things; after he catches you brushing your teeth in a cute matching set of panties and a tank top, sticking out your tongue at him, mouth full of foamy white toothpaste; after he finds you curled up on the couch buried under a fluffy blanket, nothing more than a lump and a head as your eyes rapidly scan the pages of the book in front of you, entirely absorbed in whatever world it’s built for you; after he walks into the kitchen to see you by the sink washing a few dishes, hips swaying and head nodding as you hum along to whatever song is blasting through your headphones.

But God, does it hit him like a motherfucking bus every single time, punches him in the stomach without warning, knocks the breath straight out of him.

He’s usually good at keeping it to himself, usually able to swallow it back down when those three little words begin to creep up his throat, dancing on the back of his tongue and restricting his breathing.

But eventually, he messes up.

You had started it, right after you had finished sprinkling the pizza stone with some flour while he was rolling out the dough, wiping your powdery fingers down his t-shirt, then swiping a thumb across his cheekbone, leaving a streak of white flour painted in its path, a little mischievous smile on your face and glint in your eyes.

He retaliates immediately, grabbing a pinch of flour from the bag and flicking it right in your face.

“Dabi!” you gasp, but your shoulders are shaking with silent laughter as you wipe at your face, fingers only managing to leave more strokes of the substance instead of clearing it. Your hand dives into the bag, grasping a handful of flour, inhaling deeply—enough to expand your entire chest—before blowing air out of your mouth, casting tiny, thick explosions of white at him, speckling his shirt and dusting his inky hair.

“Oh, you little brat,”

And, fuck, you look so goddamn beautiful, giggles ringing out around the room, flour strewn in your messy, tousled hair, smears of it across your cheeks and neck, sprinkled on your clothes, eyes bright and breathing laboured with exhilaration as you daintily leap away from him.

They’re bubbling up in his chest, those three stupid little words, climbing up, up, up his throat to settle on his tongue, light and sweet, floating in his mouth like candy floss and melting on his tongue only to be resurrected by another one of your giggles, or playful yelps, or squeals of his name.

And he’s too preoccupied to remember to swallow them down, to chew and chomp on them until he’s crushed them into a thousand tiny pieces as he chases you around the kitchen while you throw clouds of flour at each other, too enraptured by the soft, cute, precious sounds he’s endlessly pulling from you, too hellbent on hearing more, a man possessed.

Because he hasn’t laughed like this in ages, isn’t sure he’s ever laughed like this in his entire life, and they just slip out, when he finally catches you, chest heaving a bit from the thrill of it all as large hands curl around your shoulders.

“God, I love you,”

They’re muttered softly, just a huff of breath, really, blanketed by his laughs and yours, and you nearly miss them.

Nearly.

And then, everything stops. Your laughs abruptly cut off, and he wishes he’d have missed the sharp intake of breath you inhale through your mouth, lips parted slightly, wide eyes staring at him as your body freezes up, going rigid in his grasp, feet fused to the floor.

He stops, too, lets go of you so quickly you’d think your skin burnt his palms through the thin material of your shirt, sapphire eyes growing wide—wider than you’ve ever seen them before—as his mind catches up with his mouth, stumbling a few steps back from you.

He wants to say something, anything, but his voice is caught in his chest, fading into pathetic squeaks of breath any time he tries to force a few words out. And it aches, heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage, breathing shallow—almost ceased completely—as he stares unblinking at you, sharp, tingling anxiety flooding his veins.

And you—well, you’re staring at him with this look in your eyes, something that he can’t decipher, and it makes his stomach lurch. It’s a look he’s never seen before, your eyes shining as you gaze at him, almost glittering as you stare at him, unmoving, unbreathing, unexplainable. Are you upset? Angry? Disgusted? Stunned? A combination of all four? None at all?

The fact that he can’t tell, that he doesn’t know, when he prides himself on being able to read others so insanely well, ignites flames of anger that alight his entire body, right to the tips of his fingers and his toes, blazing straight through the anxiety and simmering in his chest, eyes hardening as they glare back at you.

A beat passes, your ears ringing from the thick, tense silence draped over the room, and then he’s pushing past you roughly with a choked snarl that sounds a little like a mix between a sob and a growl, and storming out of the kitchen.

He’s cut off all communication entirely, has been ignoring you for a few days now, only leaving his bedroom out of absolute necessity and refusing to answer any of your countless texts that have been collecting on his lockscreen, refusing to even touch his phone. He doesn’t want to see what you have to say, desperately tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care, that he isn’t scared of what your messages might reveal, isn’t terrified of that impending rejection he’s so sure is lurking on the horizon.

But there’s only so long he can keep avoiding you before you finally catch him in the kitchen, just past three in the morning, fixing himself a late-night snack.

“Oh, thank God,”

He whirls around at the sound of your voice, cobalt eyes gaping for a moment before narrowing into sharp slits an instant later.

“Dabi, listen—”

“No,” he growls, eyes flashing. “You listen, I don’t want to fucking talk about it, alright?”

Leaping in front of him, you block his path, prohibiting him from leaving the kitchen and speaking quickly. “Yeah? Well I do!”

“I don’t care,” he spits viciously, the ache throbbing deep in his chest—at the very core of his body—reminding him otherwise. “There’s nothing to talk about, anyway! It’s not like I meant them,”

And that—that gets you to stop, tripping a little over your own feet as you stumble back like he’s physically slapped you, a soft, hurt little whimper getting caught in the back of your throat as tears rapidly pool in your eyes, blurring your vision.

“Wh-What?”

He glares down at you, molars grinding together as his nose twitches.

I didn’t mean to say I love you.

What a pathetic fucking sentence—it’s almost laughable, the corners of his lips quirking up in a sardonic little grin. Your breath hitches, and his shoulders tense at the sound.

‘You aren’t supposed to know I love you’ is much more accurate, his mind sneers at him. Coward. Fucking coward.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says, though his voice is beginning to quiver, trembling hands curling into tight fists in an effort to stop it, short nails biting into the flesh of his palm as the skin stretched taut over his knuckles turns bone white.

“Didn’t mean what?” you whisper, glistening tears finally spilling over and streaming down your cheeks, leaving gleaming trails of salt water behind them. “Say it, Dabi,”

He’s got his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head, knows if he opens them, if he looks at you, that he’ll break, shatter into a thousand pieces, split himself open at the very core of his body and bare his entire soul to you.

“Look at me,” you demand softly.

His jaw flexes once, slowly exhaling out his nose.

“Dabi, look at me,” a pause. “Please?”

“No.”

“W-Why?” the word escapes your lips in a little whine, broken up by your sniffles.

You know why.

But it’s those little half-sobs, the ones that keep catching painfully in your chest, that do it, interspersed with your soft whimpers as you plead with him—please, open your eyes, just look at me for a second, please!

Unable to stand it any longer, his lids finally rise, slowly revealing sparkling sapphire, glowering at you, his harsh gaze protected by a thin shield of water.

He hates this, hates not having control over his own fucking body, over his own fucking thoughts, hates the unfamiliarity of it all, of the unpleasant fluttering in his stomach and burning in his throat, swallowing thickly past the hard lump that’s formed, constricting his breathing.

Revolting, his inner voice snarls at him. You’re weak, letting some stupid little girl get to you like this, as if you even—

Your touch silences the voice, cutting it off midsentence, his whole body flinching at the soft, small hand resting so tenderly against the curve of his face, subconsciously nuzzling his cheek into your palm a second later, eyes slipping shut again.

“Dabi,” you begin, and something has changed. You no longer sound hurt, no longer sound wounded, your voice gentle and—

No. No, no, no, this can’t be happening to him right now. Panic grips his heart, puncturing it with its claws, sending blistering, sharp pain searing through his chest and slicing him open, raw and vulnerable.

“Please, don’t,” he whispers, words tumbling from his lips without his permission, voice frail, fragile, broken.

Don’t. He doesn’t want to hear them, doesn’t need to hear them, can’t bear to hear them—not if they’re false, fake, uttered out of misplaced pity and sympathy.

“I love you, too,”

A pathetic hiccup gets caught in his throat and he chokes on it, chest stuttering as he shakes his head, lids clenching tightly against the unfamiliar sting of tears, lips pressed together firmly to stifle the tiny distressed sounds that keep crawling up his throat, trying to escape.

There’s no way, she’s lying, how could she ever—

“Yes,” you whisper, thumb caressing his jaw. “I love you, too,”

#dabi x reader #dabi #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi angst #dabi fluff #???? just BARELY #TW SOFT DABI #AHHHHHH anon i am screaming endlessly into the void #sweet anon 🥺#clari gets mail

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inber · 4 years

Text

A/N: This AU fluff is dedicated to @a-kind-of-merry-war because it's sort of in their AU where Geralt is a witcher, but in a modern world. Also because we chatted about this nonsense. Enjoy!

Jaskier clambered into bed, non-slip sock-clad feet daintily pointed as he slid beneath cool linens, fussing with the edges of the fluffy goose-down duvet until it was covering him to his satisfaction. Predictably, this nesting ritual was interrupted when his half-asleep boyfriend – seriously, who goes to bed at eight-thirty? – rolled over, one enormous arm slung over Jaskier’s chest, the heat of him crowding in a cuddle. Jaskier only pretended to grumble before he nuzzled closer to Geralt.

“S’the time?” Geralt slurred.

“Half one, dearest. Shh now, go back to sleep.”

“Mmm.” Geralt agreed, tilting his chin up, hot breath whuffing against Jaskier’s cheek. “Y’smell pretty.”

“Do I?”

“Like... honey.” Geralt said. And then he ran his tongue along Jaskier’s cheek. “Hmm, berry seeds.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier squealed, even as he fought back a giggle at the swipe of mouth, “That’s my new night cream! Don’t lick it off, you dolt, I need it for my beauty rest.”

“You’re plenty beautiful anyway.” Geralt mumbled, words trailing off into the meat of Jaskier’s bicep as he willingly succumbed back to slumber.

-----------------

“Oh, this packaging,” Jaskier griped, storming out of their shared bathroom, “it’s so deceptive! I paid out the arse for this eye cream, and the damn thing is nearly empty!”

“That’s, uh, capitalism, I guess.” Geralt offered, utterly unschooled in the ways of beauty marketing. With a pair of reading glasses perched upon his nose, he was absorbed with a journal regarding exorcism rites and their correlations to mental well-being. Jaskier called it his ‘ghosty woo-woo nonsense’.

“Robbery, is what it is.” Jaskier said, placing the cream on his nightstand. He sighed dramatically. “Organic products are so pricey.”

“I saw a nice scrub at the shop,” Geralt looked up, “apricot or something. Blue lid. Was on sale.”

Jaskier visibly recoiled. “St Ives? Good heavens, man, I’d sooner wash my face with a bar of soap. Urgh, no, no. No thank you.”

Geralt – who often washed his face with a bar of soap – shrugged, and returned to his reading. “You don’t need to buy that stuff if you don’t want to.”

“But you won’t love me when I’m not all soft!” Jaskier whined, draping himself across Geralt’s legs. “When I’m wrinkly and, and old—”

“Like I am?”

“Pish posh and poppycock. You get more handsome with every year. Me, I must work for it.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed fondly, “I don’t love you because of your blemish-free skin. I love you.”

Nibbling at his lower lip, Jaskier affectionately hugged Geralt’s knees. “You’re so sweet. I love you, too. ...I am gonna buy some more eye cream tomorrow, though.”

“M’kay, babe.” Geralt turned the page.

-----------------

“Darling!” Jaskier yelled, three rooms away, as was his wont, “How drunk was I last night?”

Sensibly, Geralt put the mixing bowl full of salsa ingredients down so that he could go converse with his partner at an acceptable volume. He found Jaskier in the bedroom. “On a scale of one to ten? Nine-ish.”

“Oh, blast.” Jaskier sighed, swirling a glass vial in his hand. “I think I must’ve spilled my vitamin C serum.”

“Your what?”

“My cold-pressed, virgin Sicilian orange serum?” Jaskier prompted. “Bought it a few days ago.”

“Smells like orange and lemons.” Geralt supplied, twiddling his thumbs.

“It does, love.” Jaskier’s eyes narrowed as he honed in on his boyfriend’s nervous tell, the back-and-forth rub of his fingers on knuckles. “Do you know what happened to it?”

Geralt cleared his throat and shrugged non-commitally. “Guess you spilled it.”

Geralt was many things, but a good liar was not one of them. Jaskier stared him down, and Geralt eventually ducked his head, pouting at his boots.

“Have you been using it, Geralt?”

“How can you tell if an orange is a virgin, anyway?” Geralt muttered.

The question was left-field enough to disarm Jaskier, who laughed, and considered the possibilities of it. “Actually, you know, I’ve no idea. Further to that – who fucks an orange? Or do the oranges fuck each other?”

Geralt grinned, and let Jaskier run down the path of his own tangent.

-----------------

“Gera-a-a-alt,” Jaskier whined, knocking on the bathroom door, “I need a wee-wee. Hurry up!”

“Don’t come in!”

Jaskier squinted at the door. “Why?”

“I, uh, just... don’t!” Geralt snapped.

“What are you doing in there? Are you alright?”

“Nothing!”

There was the sound of clattering. Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Geralt?”

“I’m—I’m having a wank! Go away!”

“Ooh, but you know I’d love to help—”

“It’s--a really intense wank! You don't wanna see!”

“Alright,” Jaskier picked up a teaspoon on the dresser to turn the lock from the outside, “now I’m definitely coming in.”

“No! It’s, I—”

Standing in the open door, Jaskier gawked at Geralt, surrounded by moisturisers and exfoliators and masques, opened and spread around him in a semi-circle. Some of them were on his face. More importantly, they were around his mouth.

“Geralt?”

“I can explain!”

“Have—have you been eating my beauty regime?”

Geralt flushed scarlet, and licked some cherry scrub off the corner of his lips. “If—if they aren’t for eating, then why do they smell so nice?”

Jaskier stared at him. The carnage, the expense – the ridiculousness of it all. He began to laugh, belly-deep, bent over until he was wheezing and aching and tears were marching down his cheeks. Geralt watched, guiltily licking some day cream from between his fingers.

“Oh, mercy. Geralt, you truly are something else. You absolute pillock of a witcher, I am so mad at you right now!”

“I... like that they taste of you.” Geralt mumbled, avoiding Jaskier’s stern eyes.

“You are buying me more.” Jaskier instructed, rubbing a fond thumb along Geralt’s cheekbone, silently asking him to look up. “And from now, you are only to taste it upon my skin, not from the jar. Are we agreed?”

With a wobbly smile, Geralt nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. C’mon, let’s clean this up.”

After that, if there was an extra tube of honey and raspberry moisturiser in Jaskier’s shopping, or if he left a tub of peppermint hand lotion out on the kitchen counter for Geralt to come across? Happy accidents, that was all.

#the witcher fandom #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #fortune writes #fluff #inber #geraskier

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piccolini-cuscino · 4 years

Text

Getting to the truth.

You’re Bruce’s assistant, but more than that, you’re his friend – his only friend. So, naturally, when he arrives at his own party injured and looking worse for wear, you’re worried. But there’s more than one truth-bomb in store for you!

Note: I had no idea how to finish this one, so it’s a bit garbage (you have no idea how much I wanted to change it up and have it basically be the fic version of Secretary, but alas, this is boring and smut free), but I’m so here for an emo millennial Bruce Wayne and a lil but of humour with my angst.

“Why am I organising a ball for all of Gotham, when Bruce won’t show up?” you sighed, turning to Alfred.

“Listen, I’m just the butler. How am I supposed to know what Master Bruce gets up to at night?”

“You live here, Alfred.”

Alfred leaned in close, peering at you from above his round spectacles. “And you’re his very beloved assistant.”

“Don’t remind me,” you huffed. “They’re only showing up for him, you know. They don’t care about the Wayne Foundation. Orphanages and education. He’s the richest man in Gotham, and no one’s seen him in years. The press would kill for a glimpse too.”

Alfred was fond of you. He always had been. He reckoned you brought a little bit of light to the place the second you walked into Wayne manor, fresh out of college. So, you knew his words were sincere when he spoke, with a gentle pat on the arm. “Well I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

“Good enough for me,” you said, turning towards the door. “I’m going home to get ready. There’s a new Dior suit hanging in the wardrobe. Tell the boss to wear it, will you? And remind him to tuck his shirt in. That’s if he decides to show up.”

It was a night of your own making, and you watched it unfold from the lobby. Checking off names. Stopping drunken high society snobs from vomiting into 17th century vases. Directing everyone and their dog towards the bathrooms. But, for the most part, you found yourself alone, dancing with yourself in the cracks of pale moonlight that streamed like silver ribbons on to the sparkling checkerboard floor. No sign of your boss.

Until something caught you off guard. Quiet, shuffling footsteps over by the study at the foot of the staircase. A dark figure emerged from the shadows, hobbling, ascending. Step by step.

“Hey! You can’t go up there!” you called.

The figure moved faster, breaking into a pained jog.

With nothing else to do, you threw off your heels and sprinted after the intruder. Taking the stairs two at a time. They were heading for Bruce’s bedroom. No one, not even the various women he liked to entertain – not even you, as close as you were – went in there. He was a tremendously private man.

Finally, reaching out, you managed to grab their arm.

The figure flinched away in pain, then they turned to you.

“Bruce?” you gasped, feeling your heart race at the sight of him. His dark hair, unkempt and dishevelled; jet black rings around his eyes. His whole body seemed to tremble and heave. “What happened to you?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. Then he broke out into a witter. “Go back downstairs, I’ll be there in a minute, I’d hate to miss out on all of your hard work. I just need to–”

But you pulled him back, swiping your thumbs through the muck beneath his eyes. They were blue, but they always looked so dark. Like a pained void. “You need to clean yourself up. Let me help you.”

“You don’t need to see me like this. Go and enjoy your evening. I’m speaking to you as your boss. Please. Go.”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne.” You straightened up at his words and turned away. But before you reached the stairs, he called your name. If looks could kill, Bruce might have been a heap on the floor. But those eyes, again, dulled any hurt you felt about the distance between you.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

You couldn’t look him in the eye. It was a battle even just to thank him politely for the compliment. And your legs shook all the way back to the lobby, through a strange mix of worry and giddiness.

You kept yourself to yourself for twenty minutes, alone with your panic, before Bruce returned. Gone was the darkness around his eyes, and his hair was neatly slicked back. He cut a strong, proud figure as he walked towards you in his suit. Even if he was sporting a limp and clutching his side with every step.

“I thought I told you to enjoy the party?” he smiled.

“Sorry, Bruce. There’s just no one to watch the door and show people where the…” You trailed off as he gently took your arm, leading you through into the reception hall. A warmth radiated from him, soothing but stoic. Nothing like the frantic panic from before.

“Help me get through this,” he muttered as the room fell silent. All eyes on you and Bruce.

The party quickly resumed; music played and the chatter of the guests around you echoed through the hall. Occasionally, beneficiaries of the Wayne Foundation would introduce themselves to your boss, or business bigwigs would try to bend his ear about trade deals and contracts and bureaucracy. But one thing was constant throughout the whole ordeal – Bruce’s hand never once left its place on your waist.

You could feel it there. The way his fingers would trail through the material of your dress as people talked and talked and talked to him. And the tension, when he balled his fingers up into a fist when faced with people that he just didn’t have time for. All those little cues forced the question from your lips. “Would you like to dance?”

You knew he didn’t dance. He hated it, in fact. But in that moment, the gratitude was evident on his small, weak smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Something was wrong, though. He flinched when your hand draped over his shoulder. His gait was unsteady. And no amount of makeup could disguise the bruise underneath his left eye. You kept glancing up at it as the two of you daintily spun circles around the room. And he kept glancing down at you, knowing now that you had noticed.

The song ended and Bruce’s hands dropped to his sides. “I think I’ve had enough for one night,” he said with another defeated smile. “People might begin to talk.”

“I think we need to talk, Bruce.”

His eyes darted over his surroundings before they returned to you; his lower lip pinched between his teeth.

“Please,” you pressed.

“Come with me.”

You and Bruce slumped into two cosy armchairs in his study, with a roaring fire, a coffee table and two glasses of scotch between you. “Don’t think Alfred and I haven’t noticed you sneaking off all the time.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stared at the flames. “I’m your boss, remember?”

“You’re also my friend. And you also looked like crap earlier. Who did that to you?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, shifting in his chair, letting out an audible groan.

“They obviously hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No you can’t. I think me being here says that much. C’mere,” you said, beckoning him.

“When you’re right you’re right.” Bruce might have been your boss, but he still knew better than to defy you; he slumped to his knees and shuffled over to you.

“Let me take a look at the damage.”

For the second time that night, Bruce recoiled from your touch as you gently pulled up his shirt, exposing a galaxy of bruises along his ribcage and a large, makeshift dressing on his lower abdomen. “Easy,” he said, swatting your hand away.

“How did you get that?” You peeled it away from his skin as gingerly as you could manage. Rather than concern, your voice grew cold. Serious, even. “What have you been doing?”

“I’m a little disappointed,” Bruce remarked through gritted teeth.

“How so?” you asked, running your fingertips over the slap-dash stitches that held together the vivid red gash.

“I thought this was something else.”

“Something’s eating you, though. And who did these stitches?”

“I did,” Bruce said, his jaw clenched.

“Can I redo them?”

Bruce was growing breathless by the time you finished inspecting his wound. “First aid kit’s in the top drawer of my desk,” he wheezed.

“Rubbing alcohol, too?”

“It’s all there.” Bruce wearily watched from the floor as your pale outline trailed its way across the study. His heart growing faster. “You really do look beautiful,” he said, his voice quiet and spiked with hope. He couldn’t meet your eyes when you looked up from rummaging in the drawer, so he stared down at the rug, finding interest there instead, with one hand clawing through his hair. “What was it that you wanted to ask me, by the way?”

“I really don’t like repeating myself, so cut the bullshit, Bruce.” You were so matter of fact, breezing back over to him and joining him on the floor. “I wanted to know where you go at night.”

“If I told you the truth, then you’d have me shipped off to Arkham.”

You poured some of the alcohol on to a cotton swab, keeping your eyes on Bruce. There was always something so defeated about him when the two of you were alone, that no one else ever got to see. And something always got in the way of him being honest with you. “Want to bet on that? How do you know I’m not already considering it?”

Bruce almost chuckled, but the sting from his side made him draw a sharp breath. He studied you out the corner of his eye. “Do you really… want to know?”

“It’d be nice to not have to spend my evenings with Alfred, who worries like a mother hen.”

Bruce choked out his next string of words in quick succession. “Can I tell you something first?”

“Before I cut you open?” you quipped.

“Preferably.”

Before Bruce reached the end of that word, you had already snipped through his self-administered stitches, revealing just how deep the wound actually was. Your feeble attempt at being jovial quickly switched to a reserved kind of worry.

“You’re the first person who’s ever really understood me. You never pry or say too much. You’re always there. And you have such a low tolerance for bullshit. You don’t coddle or bow down because I’m Bruce Wayne. Plus it’s nice to be around someone who isn’t in their sixties or who knew my father…”

You hummed in acknowledgement, neatly weaving the wire through Bruce’s skin. Too focused on the job at hand to really get what he meant. Until his fingertips brushed over your jawline.

“You’re my only friend in this godforsaken world.”

“Besides Alfred,” the pair of you said in unison.

Biting back a fit of laughter, you stroked his cheek and he keened, like an animal craving affection. “What are you trying to say, Bruce?”

Every fibre of Bruce’s being tensed with renewed panic and a tinge of awkwardness. His wide eyes searched for something, anything, to focus on, as long as it wasn’t you. “I’m…I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I’m–“

With a mental fuck it, you threw caution to the wind. You couldn’t stand hearing him bumble on like this. Closing the gap, your lips crashed on to his. He tasted like scotch and cigars, and this much of him was never going to be enough for you. Just when your hands tangled through his hair, Bruce pulled away.

“I’m the Batman.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Bruce nodded.

“I would’ve settled for ‘I’m in love with you’ you know.”

He sighed, sitting back so casually now that the difficult part was over. “That, too.”

“You can’t lie to me anymore, you know that, don’t you?”

He nodded again.

“So,” you said, glancing around the study, “which bookcase is actually a revolving door?”

“Huh?” Bruce asked, pulling down his shirt.

“Secret lair… a bat cave, if you will.”

“Oh,” he said with a chuckle. Then he pointed towards the bookcase behind you. “It’s that one. Pull out Ulysses and it’ll… spin right round. Be careful not to let the bats out, though. They’re kind of like my pets.”

“Fuck you, Bruce.”

“I can show you if you want?” he said, hopefully, as he scrambled to his feet.

“I’ll settle for another kiss. And you getting some rest.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“What, the bat part or the other part?”

Bruce chuckled and planted a small, soft kiss to your forehead. “Both.”

“I had my suspicions. One thing’s for sure though…”

“What?”

“You might need a few pointers with your eyeliner.”

#bruce wayne x reader #battinson #robert pattinson #bruce wayne #the batman

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sugawara-sweetheart · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can I please request a fluffy scenario with Suga where his s/o loves singing and also loves talking to their cats. One day when Suga returns home she decides to cheer him up by putting on a show for him. I’m talking like Disney princess style where she is singing, serving him din din & wine, and talking to her cat, and they respond to her. I hope this makes sense hahah!! 😂

𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱

this was super fun for me to write but the end of your request did confuse me a bit- did you mean talking cats?? anyway this was fun and thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoy <3

sugawara x reader

words: 1.7k

sugawara usually starts and ends his day with a smile. a genuine, happy, warm smile as he thinks of all the amazing things he has in his life: his job at a nearby elementary school with a bright playground and 30 happy, joyful students; his family that live a thirty minute train ride away and his doting mother who always packs him tubs of natto and vegetable dishes; his little family of cats, teddy the ginger, henry the tabby and the newest addition, shadow, the little playful kitten and finally, most of all, sugawara is grateful for you- his beautiful, sweet s/o. he simply could not imagine a life where he didn’t wake up beside you every morning (sometimes stunned to find shadow sat on your head).

but sometimes the elastic band stretches too far.

sugawara sighs heavily when he enters your shared home that dreary evening, his wet shoes squelching as he kicks them off and the rainwater that soaks his sweater seeping into his skin, the bone-chilling coldness unbearable. it’d been a long day, misfortune followed by misfortune that all sugawara feels is exhaustion, his whole body heavy like he’s being weighed down and nothing feels more appealing to him than curling up in bed and pretending the world doesn’t exist.

but he wasn’t a college student anymore who could easily coop up in his dorm room for three days, grovelling in his own filth and self-pity till an RA came banging on his door. instead he was a fully-responsible adult who had a family to look after, even after a tiresome day of having a kid vomit on his classroom carpet and three petty squabbles to sort out amongst his students. sugawara sighs as he rubs his throbbing head- just why were shinoa and rika so adamant to not have misa join in their game?

the living room door creaks as sugawara enters, the heaviness in his chest now feather-light as his eyes settle on you. you’re always so beautiful, he thinks, as he simply watches you. you’re sat crossed-legged in the middle of the living room, the orange glow of the fireplace illuminating your beautiful face as you cradle shadow in your hands, rocking the little kitten like he’s a baby. and your voice- sugawara never thought angels could exist till he heard your beautiful voice. it’s so light, so warm, so sweet like honey as you sing gently to the mewling kitten, and sugawara knows it’s magic because moody teddy and sleepy henry sit upright and still, their slanted eyes fixated on you.

you trail off and sugawara is disheartened momentarily to hear the silence before your beautiful, airy chuckle fills his ears, his body warms and he’s smiling at you, his first smile in hours after his day went so horribly wrong.

“good evening, baby.” shadow meows when you place him on the floor to stand up and greet sugawara, your touch so warmth as you envelope him in your arms, not caring for how he was drenched. “did you forget your umbrella?”

“it broke in the morning wind.” sugawara huffs, rolling his hazel eyes when you push his wet, silvery strands away from his forehead. “and then a car splashed me on my way home.” you coo at sugawara’s pout, kissing it away with a quick, affectionate peck.

“i hope the nasty driver only comes across red lights.” he laughs at your pettiness, but he’s easily the same.

“and they get stuck in traffic.”

but sugawara’s smile fades and a tired sigh escapes him as he crouches down to greet each of his cats with a stroke and ruffle at their faces that makes each of them purr before they stalk off, henry settling to sleep in front of the fire, teddy crawling up on the couch and shadow mewling as he tries to play with the bit of glittery tinsel left over from christmas that’s still draped over the television. as sugawara gets to his feet, he meets your eyes, feeling the vulnerability you always reduce him to with the trustworthy softness of your kind, loving eyes.

“you should go take a hot shower before you get sick.” you say, grimacing at the wet wool of his sweater.

“what about dinner?” sugawara asks worriedly, glancing in the direction of the kitchen where ingredients lay ready on the countertops. you laugh a little as you peck his cheek. it’s numb with how cold he is, your warm lips practically burning.

“i’m capable of preparing dinner by myself. now go.” sugawara doesn’t protest anymore, inhaling deeply at the thought of a relaxing shower. sure, half of his day has been awful but the rest of it didn’t have to be- unless you burnt the kitchen down. he chuckles to himself as he walks off towards the bathroom, his soft laugh going unheard by you as you begin conversation with teddy on why caramelized onions are tasty.

sugawara knows you’ll try to make him happy this evening- you usually do. that’s why he’s smiling when he’s pulling on his grey pyjamas, inhaling the sweet scent of that coconut and honey lotion of yours he ‘borrowed’ to moisturise his skin with. but he doesn’t expect the extent to which you’ll go to cheer him up, which makes him gasp when he returns to the living room.

it’s beautiful. fairy lights are strung around the walls, illuminating the cosy room with a warm glow whilst the homely, spicy smell of cinnamon lingers in the air from the candles burning in the centre of the dinner table. sugawara isn’t sure what to say when he sees the spread- you’ve set out the fancy china plates, the ones so daintily decorated with pink roses around the edge that you only promised to use for special occasions, and there’s glass goblets, pink napkins and the food- you’ve made such delicious food, including his favourite spicy tofu and sugawara doesn’t realise how starved he is till his belly rumbles and his mouth is watering. but his hunger is forgotten as his eyes trail to the cats and he bursts out in laughter at the sight of henry’s bow tie, teddy’s usual black collar switched for a pink one and shadow is wearing the cutest little yellow cat shirt, making him meow loudly as he rolls on the floor.

“why did you dress up the-” he breaks off when you step in from the kitchen, literally snatching his breath away that sugawara gasps, spluttering as he almost chokes.

he knows you’re beautiful. but here you are a thousand times more, dressed in a stunning pink dress, your tulle skirt sparkling in the dim light. you just look so breath-taking with your eyes twinkling and a smile stretched across your face.

“my princess aurora has arrived.” you smile, making sure to courtesy which makes sugawara laugh as he pulls you into his arms.

“aurora? nah, we both know i’d be rapunzel.” he says with a smug smirk which makes you scoff.

“sure- then that means i’m mulan.” your remark makes him laugh loudly, heart warming at the sight of his pretty eyes crinkling.

“no, i’ve told you you’re belle! but…” he trails off to admire the living room again, smiling tenderly as all he feels, all he is filled with is overwhelming love, too much to comprehend, enough to make him dizzy. “you did this for me, even the cats?”

“yes, even the babies.” you beam with a nod of certainty as you glance over at them. “hey, don’t give me that look, teddy, you’ve got to do something nice for daddy. and stop trying to take that top off, shadow!” sugawara can only smile and hold back his laughs as you and teddy share scowls before he cradles your face and pulls it towards him, giggling at your surprised face.

“don’t give me whiplash-” you don’t even get to finish before sugawara’s kissing so sweetly, sighing at the familiar taste of your strawberry chapstick whilst you smile against his lips. but sugawara isn’t sugawara without being your annoying boyfriend so you squeal when he licks across your lips, pulling back with laughter at your disgust.

“ew, koushi!” you cry. “you just ruined the moment!”

“so what, i can kiss you but i can’t lick you?”

“yes! of course! this is why henry always looks at you weirdly!” sugawara laughs harder.

“well, you taste nice.” he smiles, pulling you back into his arms. but he’s smiling softly, just admiring everything about you as he just feels so damn happy- every nerve in his body alight and buzzing with pure joy. “and i love you.” you’re smiling back at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and rubbing at his back soothingly.

“i love you too- now let’s eat!”

sugawara has had plenty of fancy meals but nothing beats this. he feels so special when you tuck a napkin into the front of his pyjama top and take out his food and pour him some wine, and to make it even better you begin singing sweetly as you both eat, pausing in between to coo at your cats that sidle up against your shins as you feed them slithers of chicken. sugawara has to stop himself from choking on the wine when you look utterly scandalised, mouth dropping open with horror at shadow when he swipes a bit of chicken you were going to give to henry.

“shadow!” you cry, frowning angrily. “that’s so rude, how dare you?!”

today has been a whirlwind of events but the last thing sugawara expects was for shadow’s mouth to stretch open and for words to leak out.

“well, it just looked so tasty i couldn’t help myself!” he squeaks and sugawara gasps, almost dropping his empty goblet as his head buzzes.

“you kids,” henry suddenly grumbles in a deep, tired voice. “you’re always so rude.”

“no respect.” teddy adds in a light voice. but whilst sugawara blinks at them, mouth hanging wide open he is utterly shocked to see you don’t look at all fazed as you smile amusedly at the cats.

“keep stealing henry’s scraps again, shadow, and it’ll be less dinner for you!” you tease before glancing up at sugawara. “you alright, babe?” sugawara is shocked, stammering as he struggles to even fathom words. “do you want more wine?” he rubs his eyes with his knuckles, blinking again at the cats to see them all meowing again like usual, shadow’s yellow eyes fixated on the chicken on your plate, before turning to look at the empty bottle of wine on the table.

“maybe not.” he chuckles awkwardly.

wait- did shadow just wink at him?

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imjeralee · 3 years

Text

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 22 - Legend of the Void

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

NOTE: I can’t really believe I'm at Chapter 22... I know it doesn’t seem too long but I feel like it is lol. Here’s when things get a bit science-fiction-y and also more to do with cosmology.

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell here is the latest update

Legend of the Void

…

[1. Whatever begins to exist has a cause.

2. The universe began to exist.

3. Therefore, the universe has a cause (which was itself not caused).

- The Kalam cosmological argument.]

…

“I’m home.”

“Welcome back!”

Upon your return to Wedgehurst, Sonia and Magnolia, Runerigus and Cutiefly are in the conservatory enjoying tea. You greet everyone, share an embrace and Cutiefly dives for your hair, burrowing himself under your locks.

“Would you like some tea, dear?” Magnolia asks, lifting up an empty cup.

“Yes please.”

She smiles and begins to wander into the kitchen.

“Ah, wait – professor, I can do it myself-“

“It’s okay, come sit,” Sonia says, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the empty seat beside her. “Where’d you go last night?”

“Oh, I met up with Leon,” you reply nonchalantly. “We’re together.”

Her jaw drops. “You’re what??”

“Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier. I didn’t really know what to say, nothing was official.”

Sonia blinks wide-eyed for a moment before she slaps a perfectly manicured hand over her mouth. Emitting a muffled squeal of glee, she proceeds to throw her arms around you, enveloping you into a tight hug.

“I knew there was something between you two but I didn't think -- oh, never mind, I’m so happy for you!” she exclaims, and you smile awkwardly, gently placing your hand over her arm.

“Thanks, I, um…I have a favour to ask of you though.”

“What is it?”

“I need you to-“

Unfortunately you’re interrupted when Magnolia returns with your cup of tea. Polteageist floats beside her, having helped with the brewing and when he sees you, you both share a hug.

“Here you are, my dear,” Magnolia says as you accept the cup. It’s piping hot and smells wondrous.

“Thank you, professor.”

“Inspector Graves came by earlier; he told me to give you this,” Magnolia picks up an A4 envelope from the table and hands it to you. “He says they’re accepting new recruits and he wants you to try it out.”

You open it carefully and pull out the contents; it’s a pile of application forms for the police academy recruitment scheme. “Oh…” you mutter, “thanks, I’ll have a look at it later.”

“Can I tell her?” Sonia says giddily.

“What?? No, it’s too early!” you yelp.

"But-"

“Girls, what’s going on?” Magnolia demands, swapping glances between you and Sonia.

“N-nothing, professor.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Sonia says and before you can reply, she tugs on your arm and pulls you up and off the couch, guiding you to the staircase.

Magnolia watches as you both scurry away and out of sight before she slides into a plush seat beside the stone pokemon who has been enjoying his cup of tea silently, holding the floral teacup daintily in his shadowy hands.

“Would you like some more Darjeeling, Runerigus?” she asks, lifting up the teapot.

He nods and she empties some into his little cup before she fills her own; they exchange smiles as they take a sip at the same time.

...

Upstairs, Sonia closes the door behind her and joins you on the bed, sitting cross-legged and clutching your arm.

“So! Tell me everything. I want all the details. All of them.”

You recall last night’s events though you do omit some information, namely the dream. You feel bad for not telling her there was something between you and Leon, especially the time when you had almost kissed at the hospital and when he brought you flowers, but she doesn't appear nonplussed and nods to herself, hand under her chin.

“That’s typical of him,” she says with a giggle before she sighs and flexes her hands together, smiling to herself, "I've known Leon since we were kids so I'm really happy for him. It's so strange; you've been here for a few years and you kept missing him and he kept missing you...and even when gran and I wanted you to meet him, you were always busy or away investigating so you never got the chance and neither did he...but then this happens and now you're together!!! You were always closeby but you never even got the chance to see each other...oh, I don't know, but I was always hoping for you to meet; I knew you two would hit it off."

"Yeah, I guess we wasted the years."

"Nooo, that's not what I meant at all; it's what people say 'when it's supposed to happen, it happens'," she replies, and you laugh. “So…you’ve kissed, right? You must have. How was it? What was it like to kiss the Champion of Galar?”

Your cheeks grow pink. You've never really spoken to Sonia about boys before, but this is rather refreshing.

“...Well, it was really nice,” you mumble, throwing your glance down to fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. You’re not sure whether to tell Sonia that he was really shy and nervous.

“Oh, come on! Tell me bit a lot more than that!” she whines, pouting.

“I’m serious. It was fine, it was really nice. A bit wet?”

Sonia blows some hair from her face and looks at her nails. “Of course it was wet, it was a kiss. Fine, you don’t wanna tell me.”

"We’re going to practice more-“

Her eyes light up at once. “Oh!”

“And we’re going to meet up again later.”

“Oh.”

“Actually, now there’s two things I need your help with. Leon’s invited me to a party and I need an outfit-“

“I’ll help you!”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm. “And the other things is...well, it’s a little complicated to explain in its entirety but I have a new client; her sister is dead and is about to become an evil spirit – the thing is, she was Miss Motostoke but unfortunately she died and now she wants to participate in the pageant in order to move on so I was thinking we’d set up a fake pageant and I’ll let her possess my body so I would like you to be my hair and makeup artist and the presenter if possible. Don't worry, I'll compile a script for you to follow.”

Sonia gawps at you, wide-eyed.

“So, what do you say?”

“…...Sure?”

“Thanks so much, Sonia!!”

"What's going on?" she asks, and you explain to her the case you're currently working on. She listens intently to your plight and when you're all caught up to speed, she nods once more, armed with far more thorough understanding.

“No problem, I can help you... but are you okay doing this? Is this going to be dangerous? Can’t she move on in a different way?”

“It’ll be fine; I know what I’m doing, don’t worry.”

“Where are you going to hold this fake pageant anyway?”

“I was thinking the lab; I could ask Jace to help with the lighting and we could just fix up a curtain or something around upstairs to use as a changing room and cover the rest of the lab with the whiteboards put together. Picture this, we’ll hang some red drapes over them so it looks like the Miss Galar Beauty Pageant stage. I’m not too bothered about the floor. The floor’s fine.”

“…Okay,” she says, tilting her head to the side.

“And I could ask if Leon could be the ‘judge’ again. Maybe ask Volkner…if he’s up for it…We’ll set up some tables in front of the stage for them to sit.”

“You seem to have a plan already," she comments with a sniff.

“I do,” you reply, “I just hope it all works out.”

…

With Sonia’s help secured, your little plan is indeed coming together rather nicely. Your next task is to ask Jace for assistance for lighting and if he can help fix up some curtains and as usual, he’s glad to help in any way, replying to your text message with multiple smiley face emojis.

You also ask him if Volkner would like to be a guest judge and he says he will check with the gym leader.

There’s plenty to do so you head to the lab where you don your white lab coat, put on your reading glasses and begin your investigation.

You’re not sure why you’ve decided to wear the coat but somehow you feel better wearing it today. It's been a while since you put it on.

At your desk, you put Graves’ application forms to the side for the time being and instead, spread out the contents of the folder Frankie had given you and lay out all the documents, namely the newspaper article about Flora’s death and murderer.

You had spent the taxi ride home reading the contents of the folder and now it’s time to display your findings on your trusty whiteboard which you wipe down, grabbing several pens and some magnets in progress.

Taking a step back, you look at the empty board with marker in hand before scribbling down ‘Miss Galar Beauty Pageant Case’ at the very top before underlining it. The pen squeals loudly with each stroke.

“So we have two sisters, Flora and Francesca Warren aka Frankie,” you write their names along with their ages underneath and attach their photos which you printed off earlier.

Frankie’s photo is a school portrait and Flora is a photo you found online from a previous beauty pageant.

Your audience consists of Vulpix, Mimikyu and Rotom who watch you silently as you work whilst Gengar returns with three cups of steaming hot Boltund Dash Coffee on a tray.

“Thanks Gengar,” you utter, taking the cup off him and he grins in response; he raises his own mug and Mimikyu takes her mug off the tray with a shadowy tendril.

The three of you take a sip at the same time.

“That’s a damn good cup of coffee,” you add.

Gengar nods whilst Mimikyu proceeds to devour the entire cup, swallowing it whole into her body.

“No, no, give that back; that mug belongs to Sonia.”

Mimikyu squeaks angrily but you shake your head firmly. With a growl, she navigates a tendril into her mouth and pulls the mug out and settles it atop the desk. You rub your chin, realising Mimikyu must possess hammerspace.

“Right. Let’s get started then. Flora was to compete in this year’s Miss Galar as Miss Motostoke but unfortunately she passed away a few weeks ago. Frankie immediately came home after news of her elder sister’s death. She was attending boarding school in Kanto. Flora is on the verge of becoming an evil spirit unless we do something about it. She haunts her family and Flora believes she will be able to move on if she gets to participate in a beauty pageant which we can reenact in order to satiate her restless spirit. This can be achieved if I let her possess me.”

Gengar lifts his hand up.

“Yes?”

He says, are you sure about this? Are you okay with a ghost possessing you? What about the incident with Edward Rose?

“I understand your concern but I can risk her possessing me. I managed to expel Edward Rose, I’m sure I can expel her too if anything goes wrong.”

Gengar nods a little unsurely and takes another sip of his coffee.

“Now Flora’s murderer is…” you quickly glance at the article you left on your desk, “Her boyfriend, Hank Walthamstow. Also known as ‘Hank the Tank’ to locals.”

As expected, the news article doesn’t provide enough information, namely the nature of her death. The paper articulates that it was a ‘passion of crime’ and that her boyfriend was suspected of the murder and was in custody.

You ask Rotom to commence a quick search online using viable resources but he comes up with nothing; you’re baffled that there is limited information on her murder but it could be due to Rose censoring negative press on the pageant, which was what he did for his art gallery.

The lack of information frustrates you either way and it means you may need to call Graves, which you won’t do because he has already made it quite clear he does not want you to work on cases and you had also agreed to take a break.

“I suppose I have no choice but to speak to Hank Walthamstow in person then," you mutter, the pokemon watching as you pace up and down. "Let’s find out where he’s being held.”

“Bzzrt, good idea,” says Rotom as he runs a quick search. “Bzzzrt, found him! He’zzzz being held at Wyndon Jail!! Unfortunately, it zzzzeemzzz we have mizzzed vizzziting hourzzz.”

“It’s fine, can you arrange a visit for me first thing tomorrow?”

“You got it!"

“Thanks, Rotom.”

With that out of the way, you pin up Hank’s mugshot beside Flora’s picture. He is an attractive but bulky-looking young man with fearful eyes.

After a few hours of further study, your board has taken more distinct shape and form as you begin to link some of the information together, including a full breakdown of what every contestant had to participate in the beauty pageant, most noticeably a Q&A session, swimsuit and dress catwalk and a talent showcase between three to five minutes long.

Furthermore, the actual Miss Galar beauty pageant took two and a half hours. With Flora as a single contestant, you calculate that you should be able to squeeze everything into roughly half an hour.

Tired and wanting a change of scenery, you head upstairs to sit on the floor with your papers in hand against the white railing, allowing your legs to dangle.

During this time, your pokemon have decided to do other things – Mimikyu and Vulpix are getting along together very well and had spent the remaining hours playing together.

Rotom is sleeping whilst Gengar has remained by your side to help you out with the whiteboard and the documents.

Leon had messaged you earlier too, informing you that he will pop by the lab when he’s finished, which inexplicably makes you plough through your work at an increased pace so you are ready when he is due to arrive. It's growing dark outside and the lab is swamped in a tawny orange glow from the sunset outside.

You yawn and your stomach grumbles loudly. You’ve been so wrapped up you did not even eat.

A gentle knock on the door grabs your attention and you peer through the gaps of the railing as the door is pushed open; Leon enters along with Charizard at his heels, glancing around until he looks up and spots you upstairs.

“Leon! Charizard!” you exclaim happily.

“Hey – oh,” he looks stunned by your appearance, “I’ve never seen you wearing your coat before.”

“Oh, this old thing? Yeah, that’s because whenever I wore it outside, people kept staring. It attracts too much attention.”

Leon looks at you from head to toe before his cheeks turn a bit pink. “…It suits you,” he utters and you grin in response, standing up and dusting yourself down. “Anyway, are you ready to go? My mum says she has a surprise for us.”

“Sure, I’m almost ready. Just let me get the rest of my papers….”

Leon and Charizard saunter further into the lab and he heads over to the whiteboard and your desk, peering at a small stack of books in one corner before ultimately realising that you’re the author.

Intrigued, he flips through them one by one and as you approach, he murmurs, “I had no idea that you had written and published several books.”

You hop down the stairs and in front of him, shrugging and with your hands in your pocket, “I don’t like to throw it out there.”

Leon smiles at you appreciatively; he is seeing you in a new light and you ask if he’d like to keep one but he tells you he wants to go to the stores and buy it to further support you.

You didn't quite greet him properly and he's thinking the same as he shyly reaches for your hand and tugs you closer to him, sliding his strong and sturdy arms around your waist and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your cheek against the fluffy, soft material of his cape. You close your eyes and sigh quietly, relishing the feel of being in his arms as he buries his nose against the side of your head and into your hair.

"How was work?" you ask, your muffled against the thick fabric.

"Fine," he replies, though he sounds tired.

He proceeds to tell you everything he did whilst you hold onto him tightly, snuggling against his chest and enjoying his warmth and he chuckles before he smooths his hand over your hair and pecks the crown of your head.

Unfortunately, you must pull away and he flings his glance to your whiteboard; it is full of your diagrams, bullet points, blurbs and random scribbles. Some of them are connected together by a red string and pins.

Stunned by the intricacy of it all, Leon asks, “What is all this?”

“It's for the new case; it’s rather complicated."

“How so?”

“Here, let me explain. Have a seat,” you guide him to sit down on an empty chair in front of the board.

As he sits, he crosses his arms over his broad chest and his muscles clench under his tight-fitted champion shirt. You gulp down unconsciously as you receive an eyeful, heading to the board to begin the explanation of your findings.

“The hairclip we discovered last night belongs to a dead beauty pageant contestant called Flora Warren. She was Miss Motostoke. According to the press and police reports, she was murdered by her boyfriend, Hank Walthamstow.”

You witness the wince on Leon’s face yet you continue.

“He’s from Stow-on-side and he trained with Bea as a Blackbelt,” you say, gesturing to his mugshot on the board, “He’s currently being held in Wyndon, pleading not guilty. Flora’s body showed signs of struggle and assault. I don’t have a full autopsy report but it said her exact time of death can’t be determined due to the decomposition of her body when she was found but the good thing is I’ve seen her ghost and from what I can see, she appears as she died. Her neck is broken and she has several grievous injuries on her head.

“Her Rotom phone is missing and it’s believed Hank did away with Rotom as well…which is easier to do than people think. All you need to do is separate a Rotom from its device to incapacitate it. I met her family today - her little sister wants me to help her move on, but I believe the circumstances of her death warrants further investigation so I booked myself in for a visit tomorrow and I’ll speak to Hank myself.

“I’ve also spoken to Flora and she believes she will move on if she gets the chance to compete in the pageant. She doesn’t remember anything about her murder either so for the time being, I’ve proposed we reenact the pageant to appease her spirit. I will let Flora possess me so she can carry out her performances and move on. I’ve already asked Sonia and Jace for help and they’ve agreed.”

It occurs to you that you have never spoken to anyone except Jace and Sonia when it comes to cases and you’re somewhat nervous about Leon’s response to all of this.

The conflict is evident on his face. “...She’s certain she’ll move on if she competes in the pageant?”

You nod.

“This sounds dangerous.”

“I’ll be okay, Leon. Trust me,” you reassure him. “She’s on the verge of becoming an evil spirit. If we don’t act now, it’ll be too late.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Are you certain about this?”

“I know this sounds crazy, but yes I am. Please trust me. I know what I'm doing.”

He nods. “Okay. I trust you and it sounds like you need my help too so I’ll help you in any way I can. Ah, I can be the judge,” he replies with a grin, “I should be free this Saturday evening.”

How amazing is it that Leon will extend his help no matter what the circumstances are?

“Leon! Thank you so much! I could bloody well kiss you right now,” you belt out without thinking twice before you step forwards, placing your hands on each side of his face before pressing your lips against his quickly.

Taken aback by the kiss, Leon blushes furiously but he’s smiling when you pull away.

“Great!” you continue to exclaim to yourself, twirling the cane in your hands happily. “Everything’s all coming together nicely.”

“How do we know if Flora has moved on? And when she’s possessing you, will you still be yourself?”

“If I remember correctly... when Edward Rose possessed me, I was still me. I was self-aware," you mutter, “And I should know if Flora has moved on or not. Hopefully, we’ll able to witness it. Do you have any further questions?”

Leon ponders before he throws a quick glance to one of your books. “I’ve never asked you about your research. I’m sorry, I should’ve asked you earlier..."

You smile widely, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. What would you like to know?”

“What kind of research have you conducted regarding the spirit world?”

“Excellent question. Allow me to elaborate.”

Swapping the cane for a marker pen, you switch the board to the other side where it is clean and blank.

“It’s known that we occupy a three dimensional space,” you say as you draw various lines messily on the board, “dimensions are simply the different facets of what we perceive to be reality. However, it is widely theoreticized that there are more dimensions, either within these or in between these or even outside of these.

"The possibilities are simply endless, but this also means that across these millions of universes, there is a singular universe which has remained constant and consistent across all of these since the creation of the universe.”

Leon continues to watch as you feverishly draw on the board, drawing various overlapping circles along with arrows going right and left and back again, crossing over each other.

“And this singular, consistent universe is known as the spirit world, or ghost world, land of the dead, the great beyond, take your pick,” you mutter, “it’s another dimension that solely exists outside of time and space and has remained unchanged and unaffected for eons. It’s where spirits and ghost pokemon reside and they can freely travel back and forth between their world and our world. Unlike our universe, separate universes cannot be branched off from this one. It will always remain as one, singular spirit world.

“However, our ability to comprehend it is simply beyond our mental capacity. Does this mean heaven and hell does not exist? Not really, the spirit world could be a form of limbo or purgatory. So you’re probably thinking ‘what does this all mean?’, ‘what does this world look like’ and ‘who created it’?? Well, these are certainly great questions and I myself haven’t seen what the spirit world looks like because Gengar once informed me one had to be dead in order to get there but I’ve seen a portal before.”

“Where?”

“In the basement of my old house. My dad researched on communication between the spirit world and our world. He discovered there's many forms. Ghost pokemon, for example, are a source of communication. They're pretty much bridges between our world and theirs but there's still a lot we don't know about them. My dad also discovered the spirit world can receive and transmit communication in the form of binary or morse code but we never figured out the origins of the transmissions-“

Leon waits for you to finish, but you grow silent.

“...Anyway, the answer as to who or what created it, Ezra told me it was created when the universe was created...which was probably fourteen billion years ago, maybe more, but that’s another can of Weedles for another day.”

"What about Arceus?"

"Ezra says it wasn't Arceus. It was before Arceus."

"The legends say there was a void before Arceus."

"Well, yes, but who or what created the void, thus creating Arceus? Who is the creator of Arceus?"

"...The void?"

"Okay, but if I go back to my previous point, why was there even a void in the first place? And where did the void come from? I could dive into quantum physics and talk about the Big Bang Theory but scientists are still asking the question, 'what was the absolute beginning', 'was there something before it'?"

“I think people are quite content not thinking about that, or knowing in general," Leon replies, placing a hand under his chin in thought, "they’re rather content with the legend of the void.”

"That's what they teach kids in schools, surely there must be more."

Leon looks confused and you finish with a heavy inhale and an equally ragged exhale; your head is beginning to throb, your vision growing dim. Exhausted, your body no longer seems to obey you and you start to sway on your spot until your legs give way.

Leon rushes forwards and catches you in his arms, sweeping you up.

“Hey, are you okay? Take it easy…” he murmurs your name soothingly whilst you deliriously moan and mumble for him under your breath, “You need to rest.”

You shake your head weakly as he applies his palm over your forehead. Luckily, you’re not coming down with something.

“Have you had anything to drink?”

“Yeah…coffee and tea.”

“And when’s the last time you ate?” he asks as he scoops an arm under the back of your knees whilst his other arm remains firm around your shoulder; he effortlessly lifts you up bridal style and carries you towards the direction of the couch.

“I…I think it was this morning…when we were camping…before we left to watch the sunrise…” you croak out sluggishly.

His eyes widen; that was more than twelve hours ago. He shakes his head. This simply won’t do. Once he’s arrived at the couch, he seats himself down and props you up in his arms, letting you rest comfortably against him.

Leon slips off his cloak before he lets go of you briefly to drape the cloak over your body and bundle you up. The cape is so nice and cosy. As the thick fluff of his cape tickles the base of your nose, you unconsciously rub your cheek against it. You sigh contentedly and let yourself sink against the rich, soft material as he carefully wraps you inside before he settles his arms around you once more and rests his chin atop your head.

He glances around the lab or so and the lab descends into silence for a second time; he sits with you for a few minutes or so until you stir and reopen your eyes.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks.

“Nmm…I’m fine…let’s go…your mum’s waiting…can’t afford to waste any more time,” you mutter, and he nods.

Releasing you, you carefully slide out of his hold and stand to stretch whilst Leon reattaches his cape back over his shoulders. You recall your pokemon and swapping your white coat for a warmer one, you join Leon at the door after ensuring the lab is properly closed up before locking up.

It’s dark outside and Leon offers you his hand.

Together, you make your way down the path, walking close, shoulders bumping. He’ll look at you and when you look at him, he’ll smile and squeeze your fingers.

“I told Sonia we’re together," you blurt out.

“Oh...how’d she take it?”

“She was really happy for us.”

Leon goes pink in response.

“I haven’t told Jace yet. I messaged Graves earlier. I don’t know how he will react.”

“…I haven’t told Raihan yet,” Leon confesses, “he's the gym leader of Hammerlocke."

"Oh."

"We're good friends and he’s always asking me to go on a double date with him and his girlfriend.”

“You can go now."

"Ah, yes, if you want."

Once you arrive at Leon’s house, the outdoor lights are switched off which you find strange; the front door opens and his mother and Hop greet you at the doorway, waving happily.

“Welcome home!!!” they cheer.

Leon’s mum is dressed in a chef’s outfit whilst Hop is wearing a bartender’s uniform, complete with bowtie. He tosses some confetti and blows into a kazoo whilst Wooloo bleats loudly by his heels.

“Mum…Hop, what’s going on?” Leon asks, bewildered.

“We’ve prepared a nice dinner for you!” Leon’s mother exclaims and she quickly hauls you both inside and slams the door shut. “You two must be starving.”

You and Leon exchange glances before he grins widely and you let out a chuckle under your breath.

“I’ll be your chef today and the Hop-meister will be your maître d’.” Leon’s mum adds with a grin.

“May I take your coat, ma’am?” Hop asks, with his arm out.

“Oh, Hop,” you squeak out, whilst Leon looks a little embarrassed. His mother merely winks at him however, so it’s best to play along with their little skit and you remove your coat. “Thank you.”

Hop gathers your coat and turns to Leon next, “And may I take your cape, sir?”

“Um…okay, thanks,” Leon removes his cape and hands it to his brother who proceeds to scurry to the coat rack with Wooloo bounding after him.

“Unfortunately, dinner won’t be ready for another ten minutes. I do apologise for the wait but I will send your maître d’ to get you when it is ready,” Leon’s mum says and she grabs Hop and they return to the kitchen, leaving you and Leon alone.

With a smile, Leon nudges his head to the stairs. “I have something to show you.”

Slipping your hand into his, you both scale the staircase and he follows the signs to his room; once inside, he flicks on the light and you move to sit on the bed. His room hasn't changed a bit; it looks exactly the same as last time.

He heads to his closet, opening the doors to reveal a hanger that’s holding up a red coat with a black lapel, gold buttons and cuffs. There are also a pair of pale light trousers and black riding boots to complete the look.

“This is what I’m wearing to the party,” he says as you stand up and join his side.

“It's lovely. I should wear something that matches this then,” you utter and an image of a wine red dress with black heels springs in your mind. Maybe you could complete it by fastening a white corsage?

Leon blushes. “Um, yes, but it’s entirely up to you.”

“I still don’t know how to dance though.”

“Let’s practice now. Give me your hand.”

You feel anxious as you slip your hand into his; he holds it firmly then slips his other hand over your waist. You're standing very close together and you throw your glance around, wondering if there’s enough room in general and when you look at him, you notice he hasn’t looked away from you, his gaze pinned on your form.

“I’ll lead, starting with my left foot, so you should step back with your right,” he instructs, and you nod.

He steps forwards and you move backwards.

“That’s one step. Now I’ll step forwards with my right foot and you should step back with your left.”

You nod once more and you both complete the next step as he had outlined. Leon moves onto the third step and so forth. Soon, you have completed the simple steps and have shifted from the middle of the room to a corner near the desk, although you did step on his foot once or twice during the process.

“Sorry,” you say but he grins.

“It’s alright. You’re learning really quickly.”

“Thanks, I’ll practise more at home.”

“Just remember one-two-three.”

“Thanks for teaching me,” you reply, and Leon lets go of your hand to hold you by your waist.

“Um…should we practice now?” He asks shyly.

“Dancing?”

“No, not…uh, not dancing.”

His cheeks go pink again and you realise what he is talking about.

“Oh, right,” you reply, “yes, let’s practise."

"Should we sit down?" he suggests, "...the bed?"

You nod and together, you wordlessly climb over his bed, the mattress shifting under your combined weight as you sit opposite each other, cross-legged.

Your gazes meet and Leon's face soars to various shades of red as you clear your throat and you furl and unfurl your hands with trepidation, ready to begin. He watches you silently, his golden eyes glued to your form until he begins to lean forwards and you do the same until you are inches away from each other.

Leon drops his gaze to your lips before closing the gap, gently tilting your face up with his hand under your chin.

You blush from the action, closing your eyes as your lips finally meet. So much for practice, you think to yourself as Leon ravishes your mouth with his own; it’s a sloppier, needier kiss compared to last night and this morning, as though he's making up for the time you had spent apart. Leon presses his lips against you hungrily, deepening the kiss, and you’re not in the mood to correct him in any way.

Enjoying the feel of his mouth against yours, you kiss for what seems to be a long time and the room is quiet save for the sounds of your lips meeting and some light, muffled moans from the back of your throats. You move your arms to rest around the back of his neck, pecking him on the lips affectionately and he smiles against your mouths before encircling his arms around your waist and drawing you into his lap, capturing your mouth once again.

A polite knock on the door makes you both retreat in a span of a second, your hands untangling from each other.

“Hop!” Leon exclaims loudly whilst you pull down your shirt and adjust your hair.

Hop is grinning widely at you two and you cannot help but think how much he saw. “Pardon my intrusion, but your table is ready. If you’d kindly follow me, please.”

Leaving Leon’s room, Hop leads you downstairs, into the kitchen and towards the backdoor.

A nice aroma wafts in the kitchen, which is a chaotic mess; there’s a tower of dirty dishes sitting in the sink and all the hobs are occupied with all sorts of pots and pans. Leon’s mum is busy tidying up, but she shoots you a grin.

You step out of the house and into their back garden and you don’t see anything out of the ordinary until Hop flips a switch and the entire back garden flickers into life.

Their gazebo has been decorated with roses and fairy lights, along with a small two-seater table that has been carefully set up for you and Leon in the middle of the garden. The table is decorated with a candlestick and rose petals have been carefully scattered over the floor, lining the path.

Leon is stunned as you stand side-by-side; you let out a gasp of awe and Hop leads you to the table.

Hop pulls the seat out for you and as you sit down, thanking him, he presents you with a menu. Meanwhile, Wooloo throws a napkin over your lap and does the same for Leon.

You throw a quick glance to the Champion, who is obviously overwhelmed by the entirety of it at all.

Inspecting the menu, it’s been written by Hop in his neatest handwriting and you see there are two options for starters and desserts and three choices of main course. Leon’s mum and Hop have really outdone themselves. He leaves you alone so you can go through the menu together.

“Leon, your family are so lovely,” you mutter, watching as his cheeks go pink, “this is amazing.”

“They know how difficult it is for me to be seen in public with someone, especially if we were to have dinner but I apologise if this is too much for you, I can ask them to tone it down," Leon replies.

“No, there’s no need. This is wonderful."

Hop returns with a little notebook and pen a few minutes later. “Are you ready to order?”

“Yes, we are, thank you,” you reply with a giggle, “I’ll have the salad for the starter and the fish for the main course.”

“Fine choice. Our fish is the most delicious in all of Galar and are simply sublime, madam,” Hop says with a grin. “And what would you like for dessert?”

“I’ll go for the tiramisu.”

“Fantastic. And for you, good sir?”

Leon gives his little brother a wide smile in response and orders the soup, steak and sorbet.

“Excellent choice, sir. It’s our chef’s specialty. And what would you like for drinks?”

“I’ll have a beer.”

“I’ll have water,” Leon says. Looks like he’s wanting to play safe.

“Very good. Thank you very much.” Hop collects your menus and returns to the kitchen with Wooloo.

As you wait for the food, you and Leon chat as Hop makes several trips to and from the kitchen; he sets a glass on the table filled with iced water along with your can of beer and promptly leaves, then re-emerges a few minutes later, balancing a plate and bowl in hands. It’s the soup and salad and Leon’s mum watches you through the window as Hops serves the starters.

“Bon appetit,” he says, kissing his fingers with a smack and you laugh as he bows and saunters away.

He joins his mother’s side in the kitchen, they exchange a high five, then they peer at the two of you outside, grinning hopefully.

You eat the salad quickly, growing nervous as you and Leon eat in this romantic candlelit setting. You’re aware of how close you are, that he’s watching you and suddenly you’re conscious of the way how you eat and also how handsome he is under the dim flickering light. When you look up, he's still looking at you and to calm your nerves, you take a few sips of your beer.

He inches his chair closer to yours and when the main course arrives, Leon’s mum suddenly steps outside, stops shortly in front of your table and does a little bow. She’s holding a bagpipe which she settles neatly into its proper position in her arms and she briefly explains that she will be tonight’s entertainment.

Clearing her throat, Leon’s mum takes a deep breath and begins to play, filling the garden with a loud but jaunty tune. You watch her cheeks puffing and her face seems to go a little red and when she’s finished, she wheezes slightly and wipes her forehead.

“Phew! I still have it in me…” she utters whilst you and Leon burst into applause. “Thank you, thank you, my dears…do enjoy the rest of your evening.”

She departs hastily after a bow so you can eat.

The evening progresses and Leon moves his chair even closer; you are sitting so close together he can place his hand over yours. And when the dessert arrives, you are so full you’re not sure if you can eat it but Leon’s mum had put so much effort in putting this dinner together just for you and Leon so you tuck in as much as possible despite your protesting stomach.

Hop eventually returns to clean up the plates once you’re finished, Leon wipes his mouth neatly with a napkin before rising from his seat and you look up at him expectantly as he offers you his hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

“I would love to,” you reply, slipping your hand into his with a smile.

He pulls you up onto your feet and leads you further into the gazebo, sliding his arm around your waist securely whilst you loop your arm over his shoulder as he had taught you; with your hand in his, he begins to lead you around the small space of the gazebo.

Recalling his earlier instructions, you repeat the mantra of ‘one-two-three’ in an attempt to match his steps and to your surprise, you’re able to keep up with him and also, you have barely made any errors.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” you mutter.

“You’re doing great," he replies, and you smile as you complete another circle around the gazebo together.

You wish this evening will never end.

…

Meanwhile.

In Wyndon, Graves relaxes at home in his robe and slippers. He is a busy man but it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t take some time off for himself every now and then for self-care.

And what a marvellous day today had been.

He had no problems, no issues at work. Everything had gone swimmingly and he had left the office in a good mood.

He didn’t think anything would ruin this day.

With his feet up on the table, he lounges in his leather recliner with a hot towel slapped over his face, eyes closed as soothing music plays in the background of his lounge.

“Ah, this is the life,” he mutters as he sinks into his plush armchair.

Suddenly, his phone hovers into the room, bobbing up and down by his shoulder. “Sir, you have a message from your god-daughter.”

“What is it? Read it out for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Rotom replies, before he says loudly, “I’m dating Leon. Thought you ought to know.”

Graves sits up properly, the towel peeling off his face and dropping over his lap.

“WHAT?”

…

#pokemon #pkmn #pokemon sword #pokemonshield #pokemonswordandshield #pokemonshieldsword #dande #leon #Leon x you #Leon x reader #fic #fanfic #jeralee #Comfort in Despair #reader #you #reader insert

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finalsegamangalover · 4 years

Text

“Wondrous Escape” ( Reno x Reader )

Sure the mission was a complete bust but this moment- this place was more gratifying than the punishment glare that you’d both receive fromTseng. Plus, being stuck with Reno didn’t help the situation either. You’ve been eyeing this man for a while now keeping your distance a bit; even though you were on good terms with each other. But you didn’t want to jeopardize anything in the event things would build up to this moment.

“Dammit I’m covered in sap!” Reno growled agitated with the sensation. You smirked and eyes rolled to his comment. Picturing him still tumbling down the ridge as if he were the actual landslide that occurred you couldn’t help but hold back a giggle. Sure he was agile but his footing wasn’t so great today.

“I’d say take a shower but where? No waterfalls nearby” You tossed the idea semi teasingly. He pouted and remembered hearing water earlier. His eyes glittered a bit as he made the connection.

“Maybe not but I know where I heard water before, c’mon” He grasped your hand and started walking. You blushed. His hand was holding yours…

------------

“Yes! I’m a genius!” he crowed as you couldn’t help but take in the beautiful view.

“What a sight huh Y/N” Reno claimed softly as he stretched his arms behind his head arching his back a bit. You tried to not steal a glance at that glorious chest of his but you nodded to his response.

“Well, I don’t know about you but I’m not gonna stay sticky till we get back to Midgar..” He stated as his gloves came off and he undid the clasp on his jacket. The jacket fell softly to the grown, then his shirt followed, along with goggles tossed to the side and his electro-rod onto the rocky shore. You couldn’t help your eyes wandering but you did try to hold back a yelp and blush harder. For a split second blinking a few times as the sound of a zipper flew open and his slacks gave way around his bare thighs. Reno always was so wonderful, a true vision right before your eyes. And the man knew it too, teasing you every chance he’d received.

Refreshingly winsome as the redhead seemingly morphed with the water ever so gracefully. He started wading out a bit before delving deeply into the pristine mirror; cerulean and clear as the skies. Not a cloud in sight really; on the contrary his acute hindquarters was in full vision, even beneath the deep waters. You could’ve sworn he did this deliberately but you weren’t going to fight it either. He was so carefree and live-like, a bit childish at times but he was never dead in spirit. He was the definition of pure abundance and exhilaration.

Just as the sights of the lake were breathlessly captivating your attention an audible disturbance of water was heard before the sudden gasp as he emerged for air; the droplets rolled from his vibrant hair down his rapturous face, glorious neck, along the able-bodied forearm which he flexed with his hand remaining tangled in the newly moistened strands. The water did not stop but in fact decorated perfectly along his shoulders and his completely exposed chest. The water line lapped against his porcelain skin scarcely covering deliciously tastefully above his groin the red haired line mischievously guiding your sight towards his shaft. Something bewitching about how bendable the water’s natural law made your cheeks creep with blush thinking of this man’s agility. Nimble and lethal. Loving and free. Flowing quite handsomely. Wondering what it would feel like to be loved in such a manner under his grasp; Reno was always a sensual lover who you envisioned to deliver a love that only felt liberating and true. As you came too from your blissful imagination you shook your head as your name was called.

“Huh?”

“You okay? You’re adding more to the lake” He teased. Your body practically cried out for him. You couldn’t help but pout a bit as your eyes ran along with a few droplets that clung to him. Jealousy grew steadily in your thoughts for you wished it were you instead. You were also a bit timid and envious of how confident he was with his self imagine; regardless if he spoke before of how he wasn’t a fan of his own bodily image as a kid growing up.

“C’mon, the water’s fine. Not too cold.” his eyes were shimmering like the water within the sunlight of high noon. The warm air caressing the two of you rustling the trees and your hair framing your cheeks. He loved every inch of you. Whether it was from the way you smiled, to how you carried yourself, or simply straight up how you developed a sense of heart and forgiveness. He loved it when you were around more, you brought him sensations of admiration and refreshed outlook on everything. He raptured your mindset and adored your emotional self. There was no one like you and he couldn’t help but fall more to you, he surrendered to your hold over him. Today was that day and little did you know it now but soon enough he’d confess.

Before he could say another word his vision blurred a bit as you started to undress. A creeping blush dusted his cheeks as he witnessed your clothes lacking and then falling to the ground. He noticed the colorful lace that was hidden well under the suit, smirking at the tasteful set within a split second. Your eyes stayed low to the ground as your hands gently unhooked the front of the bralette loosening your barren breasts a little. Reno blinked again looking away as he felt a fish gently nip at his hip; this was his chance. He knew you were self conscious so he improvised; he wanted you to experience and enjoy yourself. Reno wanted you to live a little more as a return of how you made him feel so renewed.

“Crap!” he slipped and fell right in with a huge splash. You looked up and bit your lip from laughing out loud. But this was it, you were now completely exposed as he and working quickly you submerged yourself. Reno came up for air as you swam out towards the mini island closest to a miniature waterfall. You gasped for air as the waterfall hissed. Smiling as Reno still fought with the school of fishes and cursing them as next dinner’s menu. Again you laughed and blushed as he looked at you, sneering mischievously and slapping water towards your direction.

“Gah! Hey!!” you bubbled as he laughed. You both splashed each other until things began to cool down. Reno smiled handsomely towards you, a hand gently cupping your cheek.

“Glad to see you loosen up for a change. It suits you” He stated, you blushed.

“And developing more confidence…” His eyes wandered a bit before you realized you didn’t cross your arms over your breasts. Blushing crazier as his thumb tilted your vision back up to his eyes.

“Y/N… You don’t have to hide. It’s alright.” He claimed softly as his lips neared yours enveloping you in a tender kiss. Your breath hitched as his warm kiss pressed against eyes fluttering closed. His free hand trailed down your back and rested along your hips as you both kissed slowly and sweetly; gradually quickening the pace as passion rose higher. A soft sigh escaped as he broke the kiss momentarily to breathe.

“Reno..” as your voice quivered. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Am I going too fast…” he sounded a bit confused as you shook your head.

“No… please… I-I wanted-..us.” the truth was out. Your eyes widened as he slightly did the same. He couldn’t believe his ears, she wanted him. Loved him from afar. The same confession he was going to make to her today.

“What? You mean.. You wanted me? How come you didn’t tell me sooner yo?”

“I was afraid. I didn’t want to jeopardize our relationship. I wanted you so much. You’ve been so good to me I figured that’s as far as we went. As friends.” You whispered as Reno reached out for you and kissed again. Passionately along your lips as you pulled him closer; hands daintily draped along the back of his shoulders.

“Not as friends.. My partner..” He said in between kisses as you melted against the rock gently locking onto his hips with your thighs.

“I love you Reno” You stated as he groaned from the feel of your body against his.

“I love you too Y/N” His voice low and ravenous. Kisses trailed from your lips down your jawline, along your nape and just above your breast as he worked his love along your complexion. Your hands traced along the back of his shoulders as you rolled your head back from the sensation; curling your fingers once tangled in his hair. Hissing escaped as you cooed for him and the wrong time for you to recognize that time was running out. You both had to head back to Midgar soon and make it post-haste judging by the sun’s position.

“Reno. The time.. We’ll be late!” you claimed as he remembered as well biting his lip in defeat.

“Damn.. We were getting it too..” He mumbled to himself as you tilted your head slightly. He shook his head and gently eased you back into the water.

“Let’s go, we don’t want Tseng anymore aggravated than normal.” Reno spoke with a hint of disdain. Quickly you both swam out of the lake and dressed before Rude showed up in a hummer shaking his head in disbelief.

“Failed again Reno?” He claimed as Reno brushed his hair with his fingers, pouting.

“So?” he stated bitterly as Rude sighed.

“Why are y’all wet? What happened?” Rude asked as Reno glared at his partner.

“Er nevermind… I don’t want to know”

“Landslide issue and then water trouble. But this place is nice I swear.” Reno started to speak as Rude drove the car towards Midgar. The mission wasn’t successful like you planned it to be but at least you got to be with Reno and not with Elena or worse Tseng himself. Too bad you have to report there soon but you didn’t want to think about the ‘punishment glare’ that you’d both receive fromTseng.

“But on the bright side we now have a secondary resort for Rufus and the Turks should we need it.” You claimed as the two nodded in the front seat.

“Bet you 50 gil they’ll name it something weird like Helen.” Reno teased as Rude smirked. Rude turned the vehicle into the ShinRa parking lot as Tseng glowered in the upstairs bay window. You swallowed hard as you imagined the worst to happen, then a gentle squeeze was present on your thigh snapping your eyes towards Reno.

“No worries, I’ve got this. Afterwards I’ll take you home okay?” He seemed genuine and sweet as you smiled. He smirked reassuringly as the sound of car doors opened. Stage time.

#reno ff7 #reno sinclair #final fantasy 7 remake #reno advent children #advent children #rude of the turks #Tseng #fanfics #drabbles #writing #do not steal #mine

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bestintheparsec · 4 years

Text

Just You - (Din Djarin x reader)

Summary: @elisemb123 suggested (a long time ago i’m so sorry) a Din x reader fic about “spicy awkward situations” -- I went off my own interpretation of that and I hope you like it!

A/N: This is my first (actual) oneshot (please go easy on me)! The first of my “tropes” oneshots (without saying too much, this was based on the “zipper” trope)😏 This was more challenging to write because I’m so attached to ‘Healer’ but I hope that you enjoy it❤️ As always I appreciate any and all feedback!

Words: 2.4k

Rating: T

“No,” Din snapped.

Greef had only looked towards you for one second before Din caught on, rejecting the idea.

"But you can't go in there. At least, not without being conspicuous," Greef countered.

You and Din were a team. You'd never done any hunts without him, not in the last year since you'd joined him aboard the Razor Crest. Your quick minds were alike, which greatly helped on the job every time. But the pay hadn't been enough lately. You needed a higher stakes bounty, one that could provide for a while without either of you having to worry.

This was currently the only job Greef could offer. The bounty was a shady, very rich, very powerful higher-up who was heavily guarded and rarely made public appearances. You would have one shot at him -- at a formal event on the planet Perinnion. You had looked at Greef with confusion when he'd told you. Perinnion was notorious for being one of the finest and richest planets in the outer rim. But a lot of it was all for show, a cover for the malicious businesses that frequently went on under the table there. It was definitely not the usual type of hunt.

They weren't accepting of anyone who didn't meet their shallow standards, so there was no way Din would get into some gala in his armor. Greef mentioned that disguises would have to be involved, and had looked over at you.

"She's not going alone," Din said firmly. He was sitting right next to you in the tight booth, and you could feel his shoulders tense up as he said it. You turned and looked into his visor at the same time he tilted his head to look at you. Despite everything, you felt your cheeks heat up. You broke eye contact before Greef could sense anything was off.

Din was your partner, in all ways but one. When you joined him, you simply needed a job and he needed the help. But in the time that you’d worked together, you started to feel something change in how you felt about him. You cared about him. That was completely normal, you'd told yourself time and again. But you couldn't help how sometimes you felt your heart flutter at the gentle way he spoke to you, on the rare occasions that he spoke at all. He was kind, though it was all kept hidden beneath the armor. He had a softness to him that you’d never known before. You would never tell him any of this, of course. He was strict to his code, and you would never do anything to jeopardize your present relationship with him. The fleeting thoughts of him were enough to keep you warm, and it would have to be enough.

“Yeah, I don’t know, Greef --” you said.

“Perhaps their ideals are different, but this is probably one of the least dangerous situations you could put yourself in for a hunt,” Greef continued. “Surely you can handle a bit of arrogance.”

“It’s not that -- I’ve heard stories of how these events are always swarming with undercover New Republic guards, on the lookout for trouble. I doubt they’ll take well to people like us being around,” you added.

“To get that man, she’s going to have to raise hell in there. As soon as she causes any alarm, the bodyguards and the Imps will be on her. You really want to let her go in there alone?” Din criticized.

Greef was getting impatient. “Then you’ll have to prepare well, Y/N. And you don’t have to be alone. You can lure him out -- talk intriguing business schemes with him. Then you and Mando capture him once he’s out and vulnerable.”

You both seemed to ease up just a bit, mentally running through the plan as you looked at each other.

“What do you think?” Din asked you, quietly. “We don’t have to take the job. Not if you don’t feel safe.”

You looked away, thinking of all the times Din had thrown himself headfirst into danger on behalf of you or the child, completely disregarding his own safety despite your protests. It was hardly a big deal for you to socialize with some conceited 'royals’ for a job that would keep all of you worry-free for months.

“You mentioned a disguise,” you said after a moment. “Where exactly am I supposed to find one that remotely parallels the Perinnion formal wear?”

Greef smiled, as if he’d known you would agree all along. “I have connections with someone there. I’ll give you instructions to find her. Her name is Kas, and you can trust her with the details of the mission. She’ll be more than willing to help.”

You nodded and both stood up to leave. Din took the puck and tracking fob, exhaling quietly as he walked behind you toward the door.

From his constant composure you would’ve never been able to tell -- he didn’t even realize it himself, but lately something about you made him start to soften, and he had no idea what it was or what to do about it. He’d never worried for any of his past workmates like this -- it was work, that was it. He rarely even liked his team members, let alone care about them. The kid had been on his watch for a long time, but he’d never known the feeling of being protective of anyone the way he was with you -- as if keeping you out of harm’s way meant he was protecting himself from what he would feel if anything happened to you. He often shook his head at himself, trying to find something else to occupy his thoughts, trying to ignore the way the curious look in your eyes made him feel something he was unfamiliar with.

----------------------

Kas was an older, maybe middle-aged woman. She had lines around her eyes, which were hardened yet still kind. You could tell she had plenty of experience in dealing with all the sketchy transactions that went on. She quickly showed you that she not only distrusted the people Greef had bounty pucks on, but that she would also willingly help you take them down.

She had been ready for you at her home as soon as you landed on Perinnion, providing helpful details regarding the night’s event -- exit plans, topics that would be of interest, and of course, your disguise. Din stayed on the Crest for a while, preparing the weapons while you went inside with Kas.

You looked down at yourself as she helped you step into the sturdy dress. She wouldn't tell you where it came from, but somehow it fit you well enough. There wasn’t a way to describe the ensemble as anything but beautiful. The dress’s skirt was made of a thick, emerald-colored satin fabric that fell in full waves smoothly to the floor. The bodice stopped just above the waist and was daintily adorned with small but intricate, understated golden jewel embellishments that completely covered the black lining underneath. It was sleeveless, save for two thick bands of black ribbon that wrapped over your shoulders to hold the whole thing up. To finish it off, she tied a matching black ribbon around the waist, letting the long ends drape softly in front of you.

“Is the slit necessary?” you muttered, wondering how practical all of this was for the mission. The skirt completely encircled you, but on one side there was a slit that went up a little past your knees. It was subtle, your leg only revealed if you wanted it to be.

“In every way, my dear,” she grinned at you, holding out a thigh holster and your blaster, gesturing to your leg as she moved part of the skirt aside to show you. “It provides easy access to your weapons. And, should you need to run, it allows you to do so without restriction.”

You nodded and sighed, taking them from her hands and securing them to your leg.

“Thank you,” you said.

Kas patted your shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she left you to yourself. She gave you a wink, making you wrinkle your brows in confusion.

You looked at yourself in the tall mirror. You had insisted on leaving your hair plain, down and held in place with a few pins, allowing just a few loose strands to fall around your face.

It was quite a bit different than what you usually wore -- black tight-fitted pants and maybe some sort of dark-colored jacket overtop whatever shirt you could find. Needless to say, anything this luxurious was not what you were used to. The fact that you were essentially going into combat mode like this made you feel even more disoriented.

Din's voice appeared before he did. “We should go over the plan again --” he said casually as he entered the room, abruptly stopping in his tracks when he saw you.

“Oh, I --” you instinctively moved to cover yourself, though you were fully dressed and ready to go in public like this.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, looking down and turning to leave. “I -- I didn’t know you were --” he stammered.

“No, wait. It’s okay, Din,” you said reassuringly, calling him back. “I’m...done. I don’t know where Kas went off to.” Your hands awkwardly smoothed out the fullness of the dress skirt. You glanced at the floor before looking back up at him.

Even in his mind, Din couldn't find any words to say. The few seconds of uncomfortable silence may as well have been hours. He thought of how you both tended to look -- skin and clothes covered in dirt and dust, sometimes even blood. For most of his life, all he’d ever seen was damage and destruction. It was a stark contrast to how you looked standing in front of him right now. He felt like he wasn’t meant to see anything so intimate and....breathtaking. Din glanced away, trying to avert his eyes under the helmet and quell the reddening of his cheeks even though you couldn’t see him. But he couldn’t resist, eventually tilting his head back up as you met his gaze through the visor. You were looking at him with that soft expression again, leaving him completely flustered.

You held your arms firmly against your side. The dress was snug and it wasn’t going to go anywhere, but you suddenly felt fidgety. You caught a glimpse of the back of the dress in the mirror and saw that Kas had left before finishing the look. That sneaky woman, you thought, shaking your head.

"She didn’t -- Can you... help me with the back?" You asked in a softer voice, awkwardly moving towards him. You were suddenly very aware of how much air your leg was getting. The strings lacing up the back of the bodice were more for decoration than fit, but you weren't able to tie up the elaborate backing yourself. He nodded just slightly and you turned your back to him.

Din felt uneasy, hesitating for a few moments before reaching down to the ribbon around your waist. He carefully tied it as best as he could, gloved fingers occasionally brushing lightly against your covered back. He could hardly concentrate on the immediate task at hand. You looked down at the floor, wondering if he could sense your nerves -- though your quickened pulse had nothing to do with the job tonight.

"Thanks," you said quietly when he moved his hands away, turning to face him. You tried to keep your heart rate steady. When was the last time physical contact made you feel like that? You thought. You really needed to get it together.

He fixed his gaze on you, and neither of you said a word. Din felt his heart go soft as he looked into your eyes, which now held an expression he couldn't quite figure out. There was a lot at stake tonight, but you appeared ready. The tension in your composure was opposite to how you looked; elegant, like the calm before the storm. He was relieved you couldn’t see his face right now; he kept glancing around elsewhere in the room, a nervous tic you were unaware of. Out of nowhere, Din felt overcome by the need to gently wrap his arms around your waist as he imagined the feel of the smooth fabric of your dress against his hands. He didn’t say anything, not wanting a tremor in his voice to reveal him. What had gotten into him? He thought to himself. He felt his heart constrict as he felt himself realize what he couldn’t possibly say aloud.

You suddenly cleared your throat, breaking his train of thought. “Well, we better get going. I think Kas had some last minute plans to share,” you said.

------------------------

You stood hidden in the trees in the stakeout spot. You were both checking your weapons one more time before leaving to get inside the event, alone.

“This should be fun,” you grinned up at him. “For once the bounty won’t immediately try to kill me. We’re probably going to have to take out the guards, though.”

He didn't respond for a few moments. “I don’t care what happens to them,” he said. “Just you.”

Was it just you, or did he seem extra on-edge about this mission? “Just me?” you let out a nervous laugh before noticing how he seemed more serious than usual.

Din said nothing, only responding with a nod.

“I’ll be alright,” you said softly. “We’ll be in and out.”

He was still looking at you, not answering. Your hands were down at your side -- you tried to occupy them by patting your dress, rechecking for your weapons as if you hadn't just checked a minute ago.

Another moment passed before he slowly reached down and gently took your hand in his. You looked up at him, the gesture unexpected but not unwelcome. The rough leather of his gloves traced your skin with light pressure, ever-so-briefly before he let go.

You smoothed out your dress again before you gave him a reassuring smile. You turned and started walking towards the venue, cheeks flushing as you hoped your knees wouldn’t give out beneath you.

Tags (separate from Healer): @aeryntheofficial @immundusspiritu @i-like-those-odds @heyy-honeyy @hiscyarika @taman-a @electricprincess888 @jensfolly @spacegayofficial @myrin1234 @aloneontheoutside

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian oneshot #my ff

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

Correspondence

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Naruto

Characters: Shikamaru Nara, Temari

Hello, everyone! ^u^ This is my piece for Day 1 of ShikaTema Week for the prompt “Letters”! I’m not sure I can accomplish the entire week, but I had to at least attempt some stories for this beautiful couple! Enjoy~

Temari’s blue-green eyes trawled over the neatly inked rows of words stretching across the parchment she held above her face as she lay sprawled diagonally across her bed. The oceanic orbs absorbed every detail of the lettering, from the blobs of black ink indicative of careful consideration to the whooshing lines of excited haste. Her pink lips curled upwards into a giddy smile as she read the words contained within the letter, and when she finished, she hugged the piece of parchment to her chest. The paper crinkled under the force of her embrace; the noise was barely audible over her contented sigh. She pulled the bottom half of the letter to once more peek at the letter’s signature.

Shikamaru.

Just reading his name made a delighted grin spring to her features. Temari would never openly express her besottedness of the boy, but within the solitude of her bower, she afforded herself some small measure of freedom. She rolled onto her side, clutching the letter and smiling gleefully. The moonlight streamed in through the slightly open window with particles of sand that glowed like moondust. The hour was late; she had no business writing a reply. Nevertheless, she sprang from her bedsheets to hurry to her desk, scrambling for pen and parchment and words to say.

Ever since the incident in the Land of Shadow and Naruto’s wedding, she and Shikamaru had been communicating regularly. Maintaining a long-distance relationship was difficult, especially with the both of them so involved with the political realms of the respective villages. Still, they were determined to make it work. Correspondence was instrumental in sustaining their feelings for one another. Neither of them was particularly eloquent nor amorous, so typically, the contents of the letters were quite dull. However, Temari knew Shikamaru exceptionally well. She could hear the hints of affection bled into the inked pages, see his shy smirk before her waking eyes. Their wavelengths had aligned into a single pulsing wave, and thus, they knew intricacies about one another no one else ever could.

After about ten minutes of eagerly transcribing the recent events of her life onto the page, Temari paused to give her aching wrist a break. She rolled it casually to loosen the stiffening ligaments and glanced out of the window. Her white curtains ruffled in the night breeze like dancing skirts, silken and ethereal. The stars glimmered in the desert sky, joined only by faint wisps of gray clouds and a grinning crescent moon. She wondered if Shikamaru was awake at this hour and gazing upon the same night sky. Probably not, she thought in dry amusement, he’s either asleep, or has his nose in a shogi board. The image of him hunched over the game always made her chuckle. His brows furrowed in concentration while holding his chin thoughtfully… one might be fooled that he applied such enthusiasm to all his efforts.

He has grown, though, she admitted as she leaned back in her desk chair. Shikamaru did exert himself almost unnecessarily so in the Leaf Village’s political affairs. When Temari inquired about his zeal, he always groaned and insisted it was because Naruto wouldn’t know a mission report from toilet paper. Temari knew him, though; she knew that in truth, Shikamaru was investing in knowing all he could because Naruto was his best friend. His devotion to the plucky, blond-haired ninja was no less than admirable.

Temari laid her head on her left arm and resumed scratching letters onto the paper. Her eyes became lidded with serenity, and her lips reflected the joy blooming in her heart as she reported all the mundanity of the last week.

“I’ve always wondered how you looked when you were writing me back.”

Temari jerked out of her chair with a startled gasp, fumbling for the kunai pouch draped across the back of the furniture. Her uncoordinated movements slung the bag right off, sending kunai and shuriken scattering across the stone floor. Luckily, she didn’t really need them. Once she realized who was perching in her windowsill like some smug Casanova, she puffed out her cheeks and pouted.

“Shikamaru Nara! You scared me half to death!”

“You? Scared?” the boy replied arrogantly with raised eyebrows. Cheeks burning, she crossed her arms and looked away with a huff. Of all the…!

“What are you even doing here? At this time of night, on top of that?!” He shrugged nonchalantly and picked up the pen she had been using to click it repeatedly. The monotonous clacking grated her already annoyed mental state, and so she stalked over to snatch it from him. “Seriously! Don’t tell me you just snuck out of the Leaf Village for a leisurely jaunt?”

“And what if I did?”

Temari’s face turned beet-red, and she whirled on her heel to present her back to him while she gathered her composure. Grunting, she kicked one of the kunai across the room. Its blade scraped over the uneven stone floor before crashing into the wall with a metallic ring. She peeked out of her peripheral vision when she realized Shikamaru was cackling.

“What? What’s so funny?!”

“I’m just joking. I’m on a mission here. You should know that; didn’t Gaara inform you?” No! No, he didn’t! Temari fumed silently. As baby-faced and innocent as her little brother appeared, Kankuro could always tempt him into some deviousness. The puppet-master had likely concocted this low scheme to toy with Temari’s emotions and was perched somewhere with some binoculars enjoying the spectacle. Huffing, she plopped down on the end of her bed and regarded Shikamaru critically.

“Regardless, what on earth prompted you to drop in unannounced?” He shrugged again and slid out of the window, carefully avoiding the desk situated underneath to drop down into the room. Frowning, he slipped his hands into his pants pockets and looked at her snootily, chin upturned.

“I wanted to see you, dummy.” A hard lump formed in the base of Temari’s throat; she could not force it down, no matter how many times she swallowed. Her palms bloomed with sudden sweat, which she discharged by running her hands compulsively over her comforter. A fire burned within the roundness of her cheeks, blazing and hot. When she peeked up at him through her lashes, he was smiling kindly at her. “It’s just been a while.”

“Yes, it has.” She edged over on the bed and patted the space beside her. He crossed the room in a few strides and eased down beside her, stretching out his long legs and leaning back on his hands. “What’s the mission?”

“Oh, you know, the usual bullshit. Bandits and rogues and disgruntled merchant caravans,” he smirked as he looked at her amusedly. His sarcastic dispassion never ceased to make her laugh, because it was just so ridiculous how he could so effortlessly invalidate grave issues. His smirk widened as she giggled, covering her lips daintily with her hand. He suddenly caught her hand, gauging her reaction with glimmering black eyes as he brought it to his mouth to kiss along her fingertips. He was not romantic with his words, but every so often, he could beguile her with tender gestures. “I missed you, Temari,” he breathed against the pads of her fingers. His eyes smoldered beneath his dark lashes, stoking the fire within her own body.

“I missed you, too.” He tilted his head, lowering her hand to entwine their fingers together. Temari fluttered her eyelashes demurely and sucked in a breath, already anticipating his coming. His free hand threaded into her fluffy sand-colored hair, pausing to stroke along her cheekbone. He shifted on the bed, closer to her, and her eyes closed of their own accord. She exhaled exultantly when she finally felt his lips enveloping her own, and she hummed in satisfaction. She could feel him smirking against her mouth, the smug bastard, but then he pushed into her to deepen the kiss. His hand roamed her body- the length of her arm, the small of her back, the curve of her waist. She wrapped her arm around his neck to tangle her fingers in his coarse black hair, while their other two hands remained entwined between them.

Correspondence was instrumental in maintaining a long-distance relationship, but a surprise visit every once in a while certainly didn’t hurt…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @shikatemaweek, @deliathedork, @searchfortheonepiece

#shikatemaweek #shikatema week #shikatemaweek2020 #shikatema #shikamaru x temari #temari x shikamaru #shikamaru nara #nara shikamaru #temari #temari of the sand #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Strangers (Shalaska) - pureCAMP

A/N - inspired by the halsey song, my brain, and sponsored by lesbians

Summary: Sharon’s not gay. Maybe.

Alaska had missed her best friend way too much. As she walked towards the front door of her condo, the music already thumping in her ears from halfway down the street, she had to laugh at the decorations. A huge banner was strung up around the front of the house, with crudely spray-painted letters and glitter spelling out “WILLAM’S HOME!” Beyond that, all of the windows were lit up with whatever expensive lighting systems Willam had rigged; bright purple and blue flashing in all directions.

It was so Willam.

She slipped inside and found herself oddly relaxed in the midst of all the drunk, high, reckless bodies around her. She was already a little tipsy from pre-drinks, and it was such a Willam Belli party that the weeks she’d been gone suddenly disappeared from Alaska’s mind. She threaded her way through, knowing she’d find the blonde by the pool, probably out of her expensive outfit by now and in some kind of elaborate strappy bikini doing body shots.

“Laska! Ah, guys, Alaska’s here!” Willam called out, spotting her as she made her way outside. Naturally, the pool was filled with obnoxiously large pool floats, a minibar was stocked with drinks in the corner, and almost everyone was in some state of undress. Willam, to her credit, was wearing a one-piece, although it was more like a string of fabric just about covering what it needed to. Her wet hair suggested to Alaska that she had already gotten a little wild, but her skin at least was dry, though covered in glitter. She enveloped Alaska in a huge hug.

“I’ve missed you!” Alaska squeezed back. “How was Europe?”

Willam had been away on tour - she was starting to make it big in her music career, and that meant all of a sudden, she was miles and miles away, in weird time zones, living her best life. Alaska was proud beyond belief, but her absence had highlighted just how much she loved her best friend. Plus her parties - they were pretty legendary.

“Amazing! Bitch, get in here and try some of this!” A drink was all but shoved into Alaska’s hand, making her grin and start chugging as she knew she was expected to. Willam and the group surrounding her - no faces that she really recognised, but that was characteristic of a Willam bash - cheered and screamed.

Alaska laughed and sputtered. “That was fucking disgusting. You have the worst taste.”

“I know, right!” Willam grinned and pressed a sloppy, smudged lipstick kiss to the top of her head, undoubtedly getting lipstick and glitter in her hair. “Oh! You should go see Courtney too, Courtney’s here! I think she’s in the kitchen, but I don’t fucking know. Missed you, doll!”

Blowing air kisses, Alaska managed to extricate herself from Willam’s sweaty, chlorine and alcohol-scented grasp, winding past the slippery edges of the pool and the drunken party goers to make her way back inside. She’d stay a little while to catch up with Willam and Courtney, having not seen them in forever, but hopefully she wouldn’t have to stay too long.

It wasn’t that she didn’t wanna get drunk and party with her friends. It was just that… there was someone else on her mind. Someone she was hoping would text soon, and give her an excuse to leave.

The kitchen was busy, but with no sign of Courtney’s perfect curls anywhere. She’d dyed her hair pink a couple of days after her cousin’s wedding in Australia, and Alaska was dying to see it in person. But for the most part, the people in the kitchen were just blindly offering drinks and coke to people - the kitchen island looked like it had been dusted with flour.

“Want some?” A very drunk girl offered, her eyes dazed and unfocused. “I don’t mind sharing!”

Alaska shook her head. “Not really my poison. Thanks, though.”

The girl beamed, and Alaska headed out. Maybe Courtney had moved on to the living room, and was charming the drunks with her tan beauty and her Australian charm and her stories about good vegan restaurants. For someone who didn’t drink often, she was bizarrely good at fascinating crowds at parties.

Just like the rest of the house, the living room was packed with people, dancing to the music or chatting in groups or pressed into various sofas and chairs, making out. A quick scan of the room seemed to indicate that Courtney wasn’t there either - but someone else was.

She was wearing a black dress that clung to every inch of her body, highlighting every delicious curve. Her hair was curled, bouncing at her shoulders, and her lips plush and full and painted red. One of her hands was wrapped around a bottle of beer, while the other was pressed flat against some guy’s chest. Her body was draped over his, and from afar, Alaska could see a sickening, simpering smile on her face as she laughed at, presumably, one of his awful jokes.

It felt as if every breath of air had been knocked right out of Alaska’s lungs. She paused, winded, unable to stop staring and simultaneously wondering why the sudden pain in her chest refused to go away.

She knew that body. She knew it like she knew herself, knew it drunk or sober, knew it in the dark, knew it by touch and mouth alone. She knew the different types of gasps and moans and ragged breaths that she’d make when Alaska went down on her. She knew the whines and satisfied hums she’d make when Alaska’s tongue circled her nipples, when her hands palmed her breasts. She knew the taste of her favourite chapstick, how it felt to thread her hands through those curls.

Sharon was laughing daintily at some guy, and for an inexplicable reason it made Alaska’s blood boil.

As if burned by her gaze, Sharon looked away for a moment and immediately locked eyes with Alaska, her whole body freezing in shock. She seemed to falter for a few seconds, unable to do anything but stare - and then she turned back to the guy she was practically on top of, and smiled apologetically. Alaska caught her mouthing “one second,” and “an old friend,” in a coy, flirty manner, before she all but raced towards her.

Within seconds, she had grabbed Alaska’s arm and pulled her out of the room, leading her into the empty foyer and shutting the door behind them. Alaska half expected her usual sultry, lidded gaze, her eyes to be clouded with lust, but instead she was met with a furious glare.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She rushed out.

Alaska blinked, confused. “I’m friends with Willam.”

“Since when?”

“For years. We go way back, to like, middle school.”

Sharon scoffed. “She’s never mentioned you.”

“Maybe you don’t have that kind of friendship.” Alaska shot back, then wondered why she was even bothering defending herself. “Anyway, what does it matter?”

“Have you told her about us?” Sharon’s eyes were blazing, her bottom lip quivering as she spoke. Maybe it was the alcohol, or something she’d taken - or, as Alaska sincerely hoped it wasn’t - just the extent of her anger.

She shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”

“Have you told anyone about us?”

“No!”

Sharon seemed to relax, if only infinitesimally. She leant back against the wall, as if to catch her breath, and started to rake her hands through her hair, messing up the curls. Finally able to get a good look at her, Alaska noted her chest rising and falling rapidly, the slight swaying of her figure. She was drunk and panicked and Alaska’s chest was still permeated with a deep, horrible ache.

After a few seconds, Sharon looked up and regained her composure - or at least, pretended to. She stuck her chin in the air and, noticing Alaska’s gaze flitting towards the closed door leading into the living room, sneered.

“You know we’re not lovers, right?”

Alaska swallowed. “Right.”

“We’re strangers.” Sharon’s voice was cold, detached. “I don’t even know your name.”

The ache worsened, but Alaska didn’t give in to it. “Oh really?”

“Really.” Sharon’s gaze hardened. “We’ve never met. Just because we’ve had a couple of drunk hookups-”

Part of Alaska wanted to laugh. A sick, hurt part of her that longed to hit back wanted to laugh, to scoff, to roll her eyes. It was as far from the truth as it could possibly get. Sure, maybe it had started that way, with Sharon drunk and Alaska equally as inebriated, hooking up in someone’s room and then making out in the taxi home only to continue where they left off in Alaska’s apartment. But things had changed; the texts arriving earlier and earlier, the scent of alcohol on her breath fainter and fainter, the tight party clothes and heavy makeup lessening. There had been nights when Sharon had simply texted “Are you in?” and Alaska only had to respond with a mere “Of course” for her to arrive, barely made up, in jeans and a leather jacket that they both knew would be discarded the second she walked inside.

Of course Alaska had got herself entangled with the girl deep in denial. Of course she was catching feelings for someone who, apparently, was nothing short of repulsed at the idea of anyone knowing.

“Drunk?” Alaska repeated, unable to keep the derisive, almost offended tone out of her voice.

“Yes, drunk.” Sharon stressed, her mouth set in a hard line. “A couple of drunk hookups doesn’t mean I’m a… a lesbian.”

It made sense. Alaska nodded, hurt but a lot less angry. “Right. I didn’t imply anything, but-”

“I just don’t want you spilling to the wrong person. Or anyone for that matter.” She crossed her arms, and Alaska forced herself not to glance down at her cleavage. “Okay?”

“Fine.” Alaska paused. “You should know… there’s nothing wrong if you are. You don’t look all that comfortable with him.”

Sharon looked away. “Don’t act like you know me. You don’t. I think he’s cute.”

As if Alaska didn’t know Sharon. As fucking if. She wasn’t convincing at all.

“Okay. Well, I was looking for my friend Courtney - not to talk all about how much you love my tongue in your pussy, don’t worry - but I don’t think she’s around, or maybe she’s in another room. So I’m gonna go look for her, and you can go back to your overgrown man.”

Sharon scowled. “Are you trying to convince me I’m gay? Because I don’t think that’s fucking-”

“No.” Alaska cut her off. “I’m not. I’m wondering why you won’t even entertain the possibility of liking girls, given our history, but since you won’t, I expect that when I leave here tonight - pretty early, because I don’t usually stay long - I won’t get a text from you begging for me to come over and fuck you?”

She wasn’t trying to be rude, but even so, Alaska couldn’t quite hold her tongue. Whatever issues Sharon had, it still wasn’t fair for her to be treated like the experiment. Especially when she could see in Sharon’s eyes, when they rolled back in her head, or when she leaned in for a kiss that lasted far longer than the supply of oxygen in her lungs, that to both of them, it was so much more than an experiment.

Sharon’s lips were parted, her expression angry and ready to hit back with another retort, but at Alaska’s words, she simply closed them and looked away.

“Go find your friend.”

She turned away, and Alaska smiled sadly. They both knew where this was going.

“I’ll see you later, Sharon.”

There was a pause.

“Probably.”

Alaska waited until Sharon was gone to let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. In all honesty, Sharon had turned her life upside down the past few weeks. Her texts were pretty much the only thing she’d had to look forward to in her loneliness, and she knew in her heart that it had become so much more than a hookup. The times that Sharon had come over and explained how awful her day had been and listened as Alaska did the same, and then lapsed into slow, soft kisses that escalated until they took it to the bedroom - those times hadn’t been hookups. It had been several weeks since she’d woken up in the bed alone, Sharon having grabbed her clothes and scarpered the moment she’d woke up. These days, she would normally stay, and leave in the morning with at least a half-smile and a nod.

She suspected that tonight, if Sharon came over, she wouldn’t let herself stay overnight. At the very least, she hoped she wouldn’t force herself into anything with the guy she was fawning over that she didn’t want to do. In spite of everything, Alaska was still there to take care of that need.

Courtney was in Willam’s as yet unused study, a glass of wine in her hand, wowing a group of stoners with stories about the wildlife of Australia. She’d done an exotic tour, and seen some apparently horrific yet fascinating sights. Alaska watched from the doorway, willing the ache in her chest to subside, listening to her friend’s melodic voice.

“So Australia was as perfect as you remember it to be? Even with the big spiders and shit?” She joked, moving closer to bump shoulders with her before pulling her into an embrace.

Courtney giggled. “It was brilliant, babe. I keep saying you and Wills need to come with me next time, I mean it. Girls holiday!”

“Right. Because we can all afford a vacation right now. Actually, scratch that. You and fucking Bill can, but I can’t. Who’s paying for me?”

It was weird. Alaska was laughing at her own words, and the alcohol was certainly helping, but it still felt so feigned. She didn’t feel like laughing. She felt like curling up on her bed and trying to sort through her feelings as she waited for Sharon’s text.

“Me!” Courtney suggested, bubbly as ever. “Or you could get a rich girlfriend, I don’t know. Oh, speaking of! I meant to ask if you’re seeing anyone, because Wills said I’m better to ask than she is. Are you? It’s been so long since we’ve caught up!”

She shook her head. It didn’t matter that Sharon had hurt her - promises were promises. “Ha, no. Solitary as ever, gorge.”

“Aww, we’ll fix you up with someone! Can’t imagine someone like you doesn’t have girls falling at her feet. With legs like those?”

Sharon had commented once, possibly during one of the actual few drunk hookups, that Alaska’s legs were killer. She didn’t usually talk a lot in the midst of it, but even recently, Alaska loved the way she would trace her hands over her thighs and her pupils would be blown as she looked up at her. Whatever she claimed, it wasn’t true.

The stoners started dissipating as someone in another room shouted out about edibles in the kitchen, leaving Courtney and Alaska alone in the study. It was an oddly comforting atmosphere, being surrounded with unread books and dark wood furniture and Courtney’s kind eyes. Something in Alaska snapped, but she held back the tears and the heaviness gathering at the back of her mouth.

“I’ve kinda been sleeping with someone, but she’s not… I don’t think she’s ever gonna commit to me. Maybe she’s closeted or just not ready to accept herself yet… whatever it is, I’m sort of caught in the crossfire. It’s my own fault. I just bend to her whims, you know?”

Everything about Courtney was so gentle and sweet, right down to the creasing of her brow. “Oh… and you love her?”

“I don’t know about love,” Alaska backtracked, slumping, “But I like her, I guess. But she’s not all about me. And that’s fine, except I don’t think I’m ready to let go of her yet.”

“I understand. You should talk to her.”

“Ha, no. That’s not gonna work. She’s not the most receptive, I tried. Whatever, you know?” She forced a laugh. “We’re at a party! I should just get drunk and forget her, right?”

Courtney frowned. “I can tell you wanna go home, babe. That’s okay too.”

Alaska deflated. “No, no, I’m here to catch up with my best friends. Some girl messing with my head doesn’t matter, not tonight. Gimme a little kiss? Take my mind off it?”

“Fine, slut. Just don’t expect it to become a regular thing.” Courtney joked. It was nice, but it was a small comfort - Alaska knew she wasn’t kissing Sharon, and that was enough to leave her unsatisfied. There was only one girl she wanted to be wrapped up with, and it definitely wasn’t Courtney.

It didn’t last long, but the sound of the study door made them break apart, belatedly giggling at each other before turning to face the disturbance. Sharon looked shellshocked, a red solo cup in one hand, her cheeks flushed bright red. The words had already left her mouth before she could control them, immediately apologising, “Sorry! Didn’t mean to barge in, but I was just looking for-” then she abruptly cut off, and stumbled, “Uh, Willam.”

Alaska felt her own face colouring, but Courtney was none the wiser.

“Oh, I think she’s by the pool!” She replied brightly, raising her glass in a friendly cheers. Sharon did the same with her cup, but her smile was strained and tight-lipped. She exited as quickly as she’d entered.

“Well, I’m gonna mingle.” Alaska lied, hoping Courtney wouldn’t connect the dots. “Also, we should get lunch next week. Bye!”

She needed to follow Sharon - and fast. God knows where she was going, because she was pretty sure the Willam excuse was a total lie, and if her instincts were right…

Maybe she was just hoping. She wanted Sharon to be looking for her.

The living room was still full, but a quick glance at the space that Sharon and her random guy had been occupying told her that they had moved on, presumably together. Even the thought of it had her heart squeezing uncomfortably, and she secretly prayed they hadn’t left to go and hook up. With only the silent admittance from Sharon’s face in their argument to spur on her hopes that maybe they hadn’t, she tore through the house, pushing past groups of people to make her way outside.

Just before she got through the patio doors, she spotted the guy Sharon had been hanging off of earlier. She had to be next to him, somewhere out there. She immediately made to dart through the doors, only to collide full-force into someone standing nearby.

“You!” They replied. Alaska’s heart sank, but at the same time, her hopes rose a little.

“You!” She responded, then whirled around. The closest room was the bathroom - fine, that would have to do. “Well, this is happening. My turn, I guess.”

She grabbed Sharon’s arm and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them. The bathroom was smaller than she’d anticipated, leaving barely enough room for the two of them to stand comfortably, but it was fine. All she wanted to do was demand some kind of answer, and then maybe covertly take her home and forget this whole mess after a couple of orgasms.

“Looking for Willam? If you knew Willam in the slightest you’d know that she always hangs by the pool.”

Sharon didn’t even protest to defend her lie. Her eyes narrowed, but she faltered before speaking. “Are you hooking up with her, too?”

It took Alaska a moment to realise what she meant. “Courtney? What does it matter?”

Sharon had burst in and happened to see the two of them kiss. As hostile as she was being, Alaska couldn’t stop her heart from leaping at the thought that she was jealous. Surely jealousy meant there was something else going on?

“Well, I don’t know anything about her. I don’t wanna catch anything.” Immediately after she’d spoken, her tone fast and filled with disgust, Sharon’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. I didn’t mean that. I don’t know what I’m saying, I’ve been drinking a ton since I noticed you were here-”

“It’s fine.” Alaska gave in to herself and showed a little sympathy. “Look, Sharon, I get it. You have some kind of issue with being attracted to girls and so you’re taking it out on me because- whatever reason you have. But if you’re so insistent that I don’t mean anything to you, and that we’re strangers, why should it matter if I hook up with someone else? You’ve been throwing yourself at that guy all night and I haven’t complained.”

Sharon clung to the sink behind her, her breath ragged. “Because- because we’re something different! We’re just two people, who don’t know each other, who have some kind of weird fucking connection, okay? I feel like,” She swallowed desperately, looking at the ceiling to avoid eye contact, and then at the floor, “Like we have the same… hunger. The same needs. And this… arrangement, that we have… it works. No one knows about it, no one needs to know about it, and we both end up getting what we want. Do you have that with Courtney?”

Alaska sighed. “I’m not sleeping with Court, Sharon. She’s my friend, I just asked her for one dumb kiss because I was upset.”

“…Because of me?”

“I mean… you came up to me and told me I don’t mean anything to you after weeks and weeks of us sleeping together, sober. We both know that neither of us have been drunk for a while now. It kinda hurt me.”

Sharon frowned. “That’s my problem, not yours… God, I made it an attack on you, didn’t I? I’m such an asshole. I really shouldn’t drink.” She tipped back the rest of her cup and pursed her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m just scared.”

“I wish I could tell you that you have nothing to be scared of, but I can’t.” Alaska could feel her heart shattering. She remembered that feeling all too well - the fear, the inexplicable feeling that true, real love and acceptance were lightyears away. It had been a long time since she’d been there, and she never wanted to go back. “But I can promise you that you don’t have to be scared of me. You don’t have to kid yourself that you need alcohol in order to want me. This… us… it means something to you, doesn’t it?”

She looked beautiful, even as she lowered her head and refused to answer. She’d been drinking enough to either not notice or not care that her dress was all bunched up, and Alaska was hit with two completely opposite urges. She longed to tug it down and gently fix it for her, and also to push it up completely and take it off her.

She ended up doing neither, as in lieu of an answer, Sharon cupped Alaska’s face and brought her close to kiss her. Alaska immediately took charge, pushing Sharon up and onto the counter behind her. The change in her demeanour was instant; Alaska could feel Sharon’s body relaxing, her tension and reservations melting into the embrace. She was pliant and soft in Alaska’s arms, happy to let her take the lead.

“I’m sorry,” She mumbled between kisses. “He was just a cover… I’m just so afraid-”

Alaska hushed her. “No more talking.”

“No. We should.” At her tone, Alaska moved back, not wanting to overstep, but Sharon pulled her close again, wrapping her legs around Alaska’s waist. “I’m sorry, and I mean it. I’ve been so horrible to you all night, and for no reason. You’re amazing to me… I like your company. A lot. I’m not gonna mess this up.”

“Don’t force it.” Alaska told her, grabbing Sharon’s hands. “Tonight has been rough. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I feel terrifyingly comfortable with you.” Sharon told her. “It doesn’t make sense. It’s so certain and it’s so real and I can’t understand it. Why can’t - why can’t I like him?”

Alaska knew exactly what she meant - how could she not? She remembered thoughts like that, ones that used to make her heart ache and fill her diary with rambles of confused wondering. It was something she could only learn through time, and something Sharon would have to learn on her own, too.

“Some people just aren’t built that way,” She replied softly. “Doesn’t mean you’re wrong.”

She was still perched up on the counter, Alaska in front of her. Her expression was blank, trying to remain calm, but behind her heavily made-up eyes, she looked pained.

“I feel wrong. Not wrong… because it’s still right… but wrong. You know?”

Alaska nodded. “Trust me, you’re speaking my language.”

Sharon lowered her head. “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

Alaska tried to ignore the way her heart sank. “Oh, I can g-”

“Can we leave?”

We.

She stopped in her tracks, searching Sharon’s face for any kind of confirmation that she was serious. She looked almost guilty or ashamed, but her eyes were firmly fixed on Alaska, waiting for a response. Alaska took her hands and smiled.

“I’ll go say goodbye to Willam, then we can go.”

Sharon faltered.

“You can go stand out the front and wait for me there, you don’t have to come.” Alaska said gently, sensing her nervousness. “We can be strangers for a little longer.”

The way that Sharon winced at the reminder of her own words didn’t matter; her kiss was apology enough, her lips soft and her hands gentle as she brought Alaska close to her once more. Alaska could hardly remember how she’d been angry earlier.

“Don’t take too long.”

#rpdr fanfiction #purecamp #shalaska #lesbian au #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #willam belli #courtney act

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scottybrock · 4 years

Text

Truth or Dare - Colby Brock

A/N: Requested by a beautiful anon: “Could you write something where you and the friend group are playing truth or dare and you get dared to do something to Colby who is talking to someone across the room. But when you get there you tell him its for a truth or dare and he’s like “wtf y’all are playing without me?” And comes running over but you still havent done your dare to him....”

“I dare you to kiss Mike,” Kevin drunkenly dared Mike. Mike raised an eyebrow at his friend, then pulled out his phone, pulling up the camera app. He switched it so it was facing him, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to his phone screen rather passionately. Aryia and Tara threw their heads back, laughing hysterically. Kevin blinked at the two of them. “Whasssso funny?” He slurred.

You glanced at Devyn, exchanging concerned looks with her. Corey and Sam just looked amused, and Katrina was giggling with everyone else, her eyes also clouded over with inebriation. Jake rolled his eyes good naturedly, then turned to Mike. “Your turn to pick someone,” Jake told him, leaning back against his seat on the couch.

“Tara, truth or dare?” Mike asked. The whole group turned to her, and she shrugged. “Dare,” She replied. Mike hummed softly to himself while he thought. “I dare you… To kiss,” He whirled around and pointed at you. You raised an eyebrow at him, then glanced over at Tara. Tara looked at Jake. Jake shrugged, then nodded. She looked over at you, raising an eyebrow. You nodded as well. She stood up from her place next to Jake, then plopped down into your lap. She was tiny enough to fit. Tara leaned in, and you followed suit.

Your lips met softly, her lips sweet and pliable against yours. You playfully nipped at her lower lip, and she snickered, breaking the kiss. You reached up to tangle your fingers in her hair, tugging her in for another quick peck. Aryia and Kevin shifted in their spots, swallowing hard. Jake was openly grinning, beckoning Tara back over to him. Devyn, Kat, and Sam just blinked at you, jaws dropped wide open.

“That was really hot,” Corey mumbled. Devyn dug her elbow into his side, shushing him. Tara pranced back over to Jake, dropping back down into his lap. “You’re a really good kisser,” She told you, her big brown eyes sparkling with mischief and mirth. You grinned at her, winking overdramatically. “Ditto,” You replied. Tara giggled. “Truth or dare?” She asked you. You leaned back against your seat, humming softly to yourself as you thought.

“Dare.” You finally decided. Tara’s grin widened devilishly. “I dare you to kiss Colby.” She told you. Your jaw dropped. “He’s not even here!” You protested weakly. Katrina cleared her throat, jerking her chin up slightly. You followed her gaze, your eyes falling on none other than Colby Brock. You huffed quietly, dropping your head into your hands. It was obvious to the whole friend group, minus Colby, that you had the bigggest crush on him.

What you didn’t know, was how obvious it was to your group of friends that Colby reciprocated your feelings, ten-fold. The two of you weren’t “just friends” but weren’t anything more than friends, either.

The two of you were the ultimate “will they, or won’t they” of the decade amongst your friend group. There were literal bets amongst the friend group. Sam, Corey, Reggie, Tara, and Jake thought you would crack first, and just grab him by the face and kiss him. Katrina, Devyn, Aryia, Kevin, and Mike thought that Colby would crack first, just blurting out how he felt about you, once it reached a level where it was near possible to keep silent about it anymore.

“Are you guys playing truth or dare without me?” Colby pouted, crossing the room quickly. Your friends shrugged, glancing at each other. “Guess so,” Sam finally conceded. “Sorry, Cole.” Colby’s pout deepened as he dropped down onto the couch next to you, his leg brushing against yours. You felt the heat rising to your cheeks, and you studiously avoided eye-contact with Tara.

“She was just going to complete her dare,” You heard Jake tell Colby. You rolled your eyes and let out another huff. “You also missed Tara and her literally making out.” Sam’s voice chimed in. You heard Corey let out another grunt as Devyn elbowed him once more. “What?!” Corey whined. “It was hot!”

You felt Colby’s gaze on you, and your cheeks reddened even further. “I’ll bet it was.” Colby replied, his eyes darkening at the very thought. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to kiss her?” He nudged your side. You looked up at him, and your heart raced in your chest. His gaze was unbelievably fond, his lips curling up at the corners in a soft smile. His bright blue eyes twinkled at you.

Without even realizing it, your hands reached up to cup his face. Not sparing anyone else a glance, you brought your lips to Colby’s. When your lips pressed against his, calling what you felt fireworks, was like calling a wildfire a bonfire. Your hands slid down to his chest as he kissed you back, just as eagerly. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips were soft and sweet against yours, and you thought you could be perfectly content with kissing him for the rest of your life.

When you pulled back, you were met with dropped jaws and wide eyes from your friends. You cleared your throat, breaking the silence. “So, Kat,” Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat once more. “Truth or dare?” Kat blinked at you, finally picking her jaw up off of the floor. “Um,” She floundered, glancing around the room wildly. “Truth,” She decided. You asked her a generic question, your brain still scrambled from the lip contact with Colby.

Colby’s arm was draped around your shoulders, and you were leaning against his chest. Your heart fluttered when you felt him give you a gentle squeeze. As Katrina answered the question, looking just as flustered as you were, you risked a glance over at Colby.

His bright blue eyes twinkled at you, his lips still curled into that soft, sweet fucking smile of his. You felt your lips curl up into a small smile in response, and his smile widened at the sight of your smile. You leaned back against him, feeling warm and safe in his arms. You rested your head on his shoulder, your smile widening even more when you felt his arm drift back down to your waist.

After the game wrapped up, your friends gradually split into smaller groups of people, chattering to each other. Colby grabbed your arm and gently guided you to a free corner of your living room. He dropped back down onto a chair, patting his lap for you to sit on his lap. You daintily, carefully sat down, then looked up at him through your eyelashes, trying your best to seem coy and mysterious, even though just half an hour earlier, you had made out with him in front of your whole group of friends.

“Hi,” You murmured, smiling softly at him. He grinned back at you. “Hey,” He replied. “So, about your dare earlier…” Colby began, but you cut him off, quickly filling in the blanks for him. “It was a dare, but I wanted to do it,” You told him. Colby’s smile turned shy, and his cheeks reddened. “I liked it.” He was quick to assure you. Your own cheeks reddened, and your smile was sweet, shy. “I like you.” You replied, your voice soft. Colby reached up to carress your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. “I like you, too.” Was his response.

You laughed softly, shaking your head slightly, but not enough to dislodge his hand from your face, much to your delight. You liked the feeling of Colby stroking your cheek, his fingers trailing delicately down your smooth skin. “Who would’ve thought that a game of truth or dare would be the thing that got us together?” Colby laughed, too. “Who would’ve thought?” He agreed.

His fingers gently gripped your chin, and he pulled your face closer to his, his lips just barely brushing against yours as he spoke. “Girlfriend?” He asked, his voice shy and soft. You nodded slightly, your lips brushing against his softly as you did so. “Boyfriend?” You asked. It was Colby’s turn to nod. You grinned, then pressed your lips against his once more, slow and soft and so fucking sweet.

“Did I win the bet?”

“Shut up, Reggie!”

“Wait, there were bets?”

#colby brock #sam and colby #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock x reader #cole robert brock #sam golbach #katrina stuart #tara yummy #reggie webber #corey scherer #mikes dead #aryia #jake webber #xplr #traphouse #kevin langue

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kkysolo · 4 years

Text

Rhythm and Melody / The Cultist

Summary: Teaching Cultist!Kylo how to dance (and how to sing) for the first time. Oh, God, I hope you guys like this. It’s driven me half demented thinking I haven’t gotten this quite right.

Inspired by and for the lovely @meg-solo

Pairing: Kylo Ren|Ben Solo/Reader (female) Setting: Modern AU, cult setting. Warnings: None for this piece, but please see AO3 for the full list of tags and warnings. Word count: 2K A/N: Here we are, once again, with a music inspired piece (and another Turnover song, at that). The song in this fic is Bonnie (Rhythm and Melody) by Turnover. which is just really pretty and ambient and I just think it fits. (Also, now that I think about it, the whole song just sounds like their experience falling in love? I’m soft). As well as that, I always dance to this song, and I hum it all the time, too. The humming idea for this fic comes from the lovely sparrowtail over on AO3. As always, if any of you have any ideas for more of these little tidbits that we can add to this story (where there might not be room for them in the main fic) feel free to let me know.

Available under the cut, and here on AO3

“And even though you aren't always sweet,”

You’re singing again.

Kylo lifts his head from where it rests in his hand, turning slowly in his chair to look in the direction of the bathroom. Your voice, along with clouds of steam, billows from underneath the door.

“You are all that's sweet at all to me,”

Sweet, he thinks. He prods you, poking at your bond until you begrudgingly respond to him. He senses your irritation - you’re annoyed that he’s interrupted you, though the feeling fades as quickly as it comes.

In this context it means nice, delightful. He hears the water trickle to a stop. It can also reference how something tastes. Like, if it’s sugary.

Kylo repeats the word ‘sugar’ questionably under his breath, though he knows you can’t hear him. He’s unsure if he’s ever tasted sugar.

“I’ll show you one day,” you call out to him. “But I’ll warn you, it’s addictive.”

“Does that mean it’s good?”

“Very,” the door cracks open and he can see you now, covered only by your towel. He hates it when you do this, though he’s never been able to discern why. He thinks, perhaps, it’s because the sight makes him feel things deep in the core of his body that he quite doesn’t understand - things he wishes he could . “Can you pass me my nightdress?”

He swiftly gets to his feet, picking it up carefully from where it’s draped across the bed. The black silk glides through his fingertips, and he thinks about how soft it must feel against your skin. He steps toward you, placing the garment tentatively in your hands.

“Thank you,” you move to close the door, but he quickly pulls it back open. The force of it, the way his palm almost slams against the wood, startles you.

“Kylo,” you warn. “I’ll be out in a minute.” “Can’t you leave it open?”

You cock an eyebrow at him.

“Why do you want it open?” “So that I can hear you properly.” “Hear me do what?” “Sing,” he murmurs, retreating back to his seat. “And I don’t like it being closed, anyway.” “Well it has to be closed sometimes, Kylo,” you say incredulously. “I need some privacy.”

Kylo ignores your statement, picking his pen up as he sits back at his desk. He doesn’t care for privacy. He cares only for being close to you.

“Can you keep singing?” “If I have to keep it open, then you can’t turn around.”

Kylo chooses not to respond. He doesn’t quite understand the meaning of privacy, or why it’s a necessity. He’s never really had it - any moment of quiet he’s ever had has been quickly and brutally interrupted. Every intimate function of his body has been watched, every wash, every toilet break has been assisted and observed. At least, it was. Now that privacy is something he’s forced to face, he’s unsure he understands its purpose. Even showering by himself is still a task - he’s not quite sure how to do much of anything on his own. And though you know this, and though you know he won’t turn around now that you’ve asked him not to, you still duck behind the door, completely out of sight.

You slip your nightdress on in seconds, tossing your towel to the corner of the bathroom floor. You don’t have the luxury of a laundry basket. But whenever you leave the room for dinner or for training, the dirty towels have disappeared, fresh ones in their place. You often wonder who takes them, who tends to your quarters while you’re out. You wonder if they have more freedom than you do. Than Kylo does.

You step back into the room, barefoot and clean, your skin still slightly damp. You hum softly as you make your way to the bed. The notes hang in the air, magical and empyreal and oh, so pretty. Kylo sits up straight in his seat.

“Now what are you doing?” Kylo turns to you, watching as you sit. “What do you mean?” “You’re singing but...not.”

You laugh softly. His naivety - his innocence, really - though tragic, is still beautiful to you. His willingness to learn, even moreso.

“It’s called humming. It’s like, singing with your mouth closed.”

He turns back to his paper, unconvinced.

“That seems strange.” “Does it sound strange?” “No, it sounds nice,” he mumbles, dipping into his ink. “But why wouldn’t you just sing when it sounds so pretty?” “I don’t always want to sing.” “Why not?” His brows furrow. “Would you always want to sing?” “I wouldn’t know, I don’t know how.”

You pause for a moment, observing the curve of his back, the curls of hair that crest around his crown. You contemplate if anyone has ever told him how stunning, how wonderfully and painfully handsome he truly is.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

He turns back to you, silently observing you with devoted attention. There’s a lot of things Kylo wishes he could do. He wonders, as he looks at you, if he’ll ever be able to teach you as much as you’ve taught him.

He nods softly, turning fully in his seat.

“It’s easy,” you walk to him with a spring in your step, a bounce almost. His eyes remain fixated on you as you come to stand before him. “It’s like talking, but you just drag it out. Try going like ‘ahhhh’.”

Your speech is fast, emotive, and Kylo realises as he feels it sizzle across your bond - you’re excited. You’re absolutely animated, like he’s never quite seen before. He almost smiles - almost. But once again, he settles into a half smile, instead.

“Ahhh,” he mimics. “Like that?”

“Yes, like that!” You grin. “Now, try changing the pitch,” you make the same sound again, only lower, deeper. Kylo mimics you to perfection, the baritone nature of his voice aiding his efforts. You marvel at how quickly he learns. He’s capable of anything, you believe that wholly. He could have the world, if he so wished.

“Okay, now try higher,” you vocalise again, and Kylo’s brow furrows, clearing his throat. “I’m not sure I can do that, not like you can,” he says, rubbing at his throat. “You don’t have to go as high as I do,” you smile, and your reassurance reignites his faltering confidence. “Just go as high as you’re comfortable with.”

He coughs, and tries his best. The pitch is still low, and he chastises himself internally.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t-” He shakes his head in frustration, and you can feel the anger rise in his chest. “Hey, hey,” you lean closer to him, and your proximity calms him - the tenderness, the warmth it stirs in him triggers a wave of peace that dutifully extinguishes his self doubt. “That’s okay, you’re doing just fine. Do you think you can sing the words, now?”

He nods slowly.

“If you teach me.”

“I got a little bit tired of spending all morning, really wishing that I was still sleeping,” you sing along to the melody, swaying slightly as you do. “I got a little bit tired of spending all morning, really wishing that I was still sleeping,” He repeats the words exactly as you sang them, perfectly following your tune and pitch. “You’re good at this!” “You're- ” he stops. “I wasn’t supposed to repeat that.”

The laugh you let out sets his pulse racing. He’ll search for that sound until his dying day, he’s sure of it.

“It’s okay, let’s keep going,” you sway again, and he watches curiously as you move. “But you and me being each other feels like it’s all I’ve ever needed.”

He copies your tune, moving in his chair as he follows your movements. You’re twirling around the room, spinning and swaying as you continue singing.

“Now all I can hear is rhythm and melody in my ears, it sounds like it feels all the time,”

He repeats your words, though his tone falters as he becomes distracted by how you whirl around. He tapers off, tilting his head to the side in question.

“What is this?” “What’s what?” You don’t look at him, too lost in the feeling of how the air feels as it glides between your fingertips. “What are you doing?” “Dancing.” “What’s the purpose of this?” he stands, observing you cautiously. “Is it ceremonial?” “No,” you laugh, coming to a halt before him. You stumble, dizzy from your performance. He steady’s you, gripping your elbow as you tumble forward. “Well, it can be, but that’s not what I’m doing. It’s just fun.” “It doesn’t look fun, you could have fallen.” “But I didn’t,” you smile. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Kylo’s brow furrows, and he almost hates that you ask. He’s so completely and utterly devoted to you, to your voice, to your eyes, to your soul that’s so perfectly blended with his. He’d do anything you ask of him without a second thought.

He nods slowly, cautiously approaching you. You hold out your hands to him, a voiceless question reverberating through the air between you.

Can I touch you?

Kylo reaches for your outstretched hands, intertwining your fingers with his in a silent answer. His body steps close to yours, and he looks at you quizzically.

“Now what?” “Now, we move,” you step back, taking Kylo with you. He follows stiffly as you move across the room, your hands still intertwined with his. He looks down at your feet, how quickly and daintily they move across the floor. His movements feel wrong. “Loosen your shoulders a little,” you say, “Don’t be afraid to let yourself be more fluid.”

He rolls his shoulders before relaxing, and even his hands become pliant in your grip. You start singing again, stirring your momentum and giving you both a tune to move to.

“I’m balancing perfectly in between awake and a dream.”

Kylo hums quietly along with you, not quite realising that he’s doing it. He’s too absorbed, too focused on how your body moves, on how it brushes lightly against his as you guide him across the room. You let go of one of his hands, lifting the other up and twirling yourself beneath it. Kylo half-smiles again, not understanding exactly what it is that you’re doing, but revelling in the sight nonetheless.

“You’re getting good at this,” you muse. “I think you’re a natural.”

He moves his hand to your waist.

“Is this okay?”

“Of course,” you smile.

He moves you closer to him, taking the lead and guiding you across the wooden floorboards. They creak unhappily beneath your feet, adding to the symphony you’ve created as you both harmonize your melodies.

“I can't explain this new sensation,” you twirl around again, and this time, Kylo guides you. “It kind of feels like falling but what's underneath me's soft as velvet.”

Kylo sighs happily, contentment washing over him. He watches you smile as you sing, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever lay eyes on anything so sublime.

“Do you like this?” You ask him as you follow his lead, and he nods emphatically.

“Can we keep going?” His tone is hopeful, and you desperately hope that he knows that you’d never deny him this, or much of anything else. Least of all something so pure, so simple.

“Of course,” you allow him to twirl you again. He likes this, watching you spin. “But on one condition," You wink at him as you speak, and though he doesn't understand the definition of such a gesture, his heart races in his chest. "What would that be?" "You let me change with the door closed," he makes a disgruntled face at your demand, and you smile at him knowingly. "I know you want to feel close to me, but I really do need a little privacy."

Kylo relaxes his features, nodding in concession. He tries in vain to repeat your gesture, attempting a wink but blinking harshly instead. You laugh softly and his mouth turns upward only slightly.

"I can do that," he says quietly. "Then we can do this whenever you want."

And when he falls asleep tonight, his limbs inches from yours, he’ll think of this. Of how your skin glows in the candlelight, of how your skin feels against his, of how you glide so effortlessly, barefoot and beautiful. And he hopes you’ll think of him, too.

#i'm so scared to post this??#why??#i'm gonna have this song stuck in my head for weeks now i just know it #my writing #kylo ren #ben solo #kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #kylo ren x you #ben solo x you #the cultist #rhythm and melody

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