#both of whom were too busy to give me a trim

[firesalamander]

.

[venusiangguk]

hand-picked | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / famous!jk x sex worker!oc

>>genre: strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, teaser, drabble

>>word count: 2.8k

>>warnings: glory hole au!!!, cocky jk, bad boy jk, stripper oc, sex work, sexual tension, awkward tension, hand job, blowjob, cumshot, cum on tits, pay for play, semi-anonymous sex, dirty talk, dishonesty...  that’s it i think zzz

>>notes: if u don’t like sex workers ur ugly and i hate u 😌 also ty to @wheresmymoniat​ for betaing n helping me out, ily <3 *repost bc tag issues don’t mind me 🙄*

>>summary: glory holes weren’t a real thing... at least until you’re on your knees for a stranger, cock in your face, with nothing but a curtain between you.

Despite your nerves, you grasp the semi-hard cock in front of you, attached to a nameless person behind the curtain. For a moment you wonder what the hell you’re doing, but the soft sigh that you hear brings you back to the present. You stroke up and down, watching as he starts to become fully aroused. The foreskin rolls over the pink tip on every upstroke. You bite your lip. The silence is awkward, but you think maybe the whole situation is.

 “So... what do you do? Like… not specifically of course, but are you an idol? An actor? You can be vague…” 

 Behind the curtain, Jeongguk, whom you don’t know the identity of, stiffens just a bit. Will his voice give him away? Maybe, but he was never one to turn down an opportunity to boast about himself and his achievements.

 “I’ve done it all,” His voice is airy, softer than he would like, but your hand on his cock is speeding up, and so is his breathing. “I’m good at all of it too.”

 You hum at the man’s response. Cocky. “Isn’t saying you’re good at a lot of things just another way of saying you’re not good enough at one thing? So you have to compensate by spreading yourself thin?” You gasp a small giggle when you feel the cock in your hand jump a little at your words. “Did you like that? It wasn’t meant to be degrading, but if that’s what you’re into-“

 “It’s not- that.” He doesn’t know if he’s denying your psychoanalyzation, or your keen interpretation of the way his cock reacted to your psychoanalyzation but one was more inaccurate than the other. He actually was great at most everything he did, no need to overcompensate like you assumed. 

 Your small hand tightens, and you rub your thumb at the underside of the head, you let out a small pleased noise when you see a bead of precum well at the tip. “Really? You’re starting to leak a little.”

 You sound amused and humorous and if Jeongguk had it in him he would be annoyed or even upset at the way you’re talking to him. You were basically hired help, a means to an end. He glances down his torso at his hard cock in your tiny, well-kept manicured hands. Your nails are a dark red, burgundy color. It complements your skin well, he thinks. He can’t see much of you, just your forearms, along with the bottom part of your tummy and your legs. You’re sitting on your knees between his spread out thighs, feet tucked under you. From the tight black leggings you’re wearing and the slim-fit long sleeve white crop top you have on, Jeongguk can tell you have a good figure. Your waist is tapered in, tiny and cinched, and your hips are wide enough to accentuate it, letting him know you’ve got a petite hourglass frame. You aren’t too skinny though, there’s a softness to your body that he likes. It’s not like he needed the tight fitting clothes to know what your body looked like, though. He’s already seen more of it than he is right now. His mind flashes to the club.

 You may be hired help, but you were hand-picked by him. 

 “It’s just-“ He contemplates what to tell you and settles for, “It’s been a while.”

 “Since?” You push. You hear footsteps outside and you hand stops, scared for some reason that you’ll get caught doing something bad. As if the door wasn’t locked and being guarded. Behind the black curtain, his hips lift just barely, urging you to keep going. Don’t stop.

 “Since someone’s helped me.” Jeongguk’s head rolls back when your hand starts moving again. It’s been at least a few months since he’s gotten off with someone, his hand being his only companion. After the situation blew up even more than it had in months prior, his leash was tight. No wiggle room at all. He was suffocating and desperate. He almost cried when his team propositioned this arrangement, embarrassing as it was.

 When he speaks, his voice is soft and everything is said with a sigh. He sounds so relieved, like it feels so good to be in your palm, like he’s been waiting for your hand on his cock forever. You blush, and right your thoughts. You don’t even know who he is or what he looks like. Still, you ask, “Does it feel good, do you like it?” Tone soft to match his.

 Jeongguk nods and swallows thickly. Eyes still closed, letting the pleasure slowly work its way through his veins. Then he remembers you can’t see him. “Yeah.” He breathes.

 You hum and keep up your ministrations. Not slow, but not fast either. You’re not quite sure what he likes yet, but the soft moans that flutter through the curtain at least let you know what you’re doing isn’t wrong. 

 “I like your hands,” He surprises you by saying. “They’re so small; soft,” A more vocal sound falls from his lips when you twist your hand on the upstroke. He’s chuckling when he says, “Kinda strokes my ego a little bit.”

 You glance at the cock in your hand. It’s pretty. Thick and pink. A pleasant kind of heavy in your hand. The veins running over it are subtle enough to not be ugly or intimidating. The only intimidating thing about it is the size. He’s big. And you’re sure he already knows that. 

 You snort. “I don’t think you need that stroked.”

 This makes him laugh a little harder. It’s a nice sound. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” He hums, you think you can hear a smile in his voice. It’s quiet again for just a moment before he says, “Will you- faster? Make your hand a little tighter too- yeah, like that.”

 His hips sink into the chair when you comply with his requests before he’s bringing them back up, subtly thrusting into your palm. You fight back a moan; you shouldn’t be getting hot for someone you don’t even know right? This was strictly business. Still, you can’t help the slight shifting you do, squeezing your legs together for a little bit of pressure on your pussy.

 Jeongguk notices. “Are you turned on?”

 “No!” You squeak.

 “You can touch yourself,” He offers.

 “No!” You insist, “I-I’m fine.Thank you though.” You say dumbly.

 He doesn’t say anything more, focuses on your hand on him, tugging just how he asked. His hand rubs over his stomach, flexing as he teases himself, his own light touches mixed with your strokes brings goosebumps over his skin. “Feels, so good.” He groans, eyes watching your hand under the curtain.

 Encouraged, you bring your other hand up and massage lightly at his balls. They’re hairless, the only hair he has is the small trimmed patch above the base of his cock. He’s well kept and has good hygiene. That alone was attractive to you, stranger or not.

 When you palm his balls, his legs spread as far as they can with his black cargo pants still around his calves, his big black stomper boots keeping them from being shed all the way. “Fuck,” He moans deep and loud for you. One of his hands comes down past the curtain and reaches for you before he quickly pulls it back. You think you saw a flash of ink on it, but you can’t be too sure, mind kind of fuzzy with poorly hidden arousal. The opposite hand comes into view, and your mouth parts in awe as he covers your own hand with his. It’s so much bigger than yours, completely enveloping it as he strokes himself off, using you in a way. Then again the whole arrangement was you both using each other. 

 “You’re mouth- put your mouth on it,” He sighs, pleasure just dripping from his lips. His cock is rock hard in both your hands, and you can tell he’s getting close.

 You hesitate. “Will… will you be able to see me?”

 Jeongguk comes out of his desire induced high a little bit and realizes what he said. He wants it, fuck does he want your mouth, but he probably should have asked. “No, no. I’ll lower the curtain a bit more if you want, and you don’t have to swallow. You don’t even have to suck it if you don’t want- like I know we have a thing going on but I would never like- force you I-“

 He’s rambling a tad so you cut him off. “I want to, I think,” You whisper, taking in his intimidating size again, “I just- if I can’t know who you are, you can’t know who I am.” You blush feeling a little childish.

 Jeongguk keeps the fact that he already knows what you look like and more or less who you are, at least on a surface level, to himself as he moves the curtain to the next lower notch, the bar resting just above his pelvis now. He can’t really see much of you at all anymore. “That’s fair, yeah, just-“ With your confirmation that you do in fact want to suck him off, he can’t keep the lustful neediness out of his voice, “Please.”

 You take a deep breath as you wrap both of your hands around his cock, the tip still poking out the top. Tentatively you lick at his frenulum and the sound that comes from behind the curtain is obscene. His hips twitch and everything. You want to hear his noises, all of them, so you do it again. You flick your tongue fast over the most sensitive underpart of the head, before placing wet sucking kisses to the same area, almost making out with the tip of his cock.

 “Oh my god-“ His body is pulled taut, and his hands are gripping the chair that he’s sitting in. “Fuck that’s- I love that.” He says, head dropping back, mouth open in a silent moan. 

 You moan against the tip of his cock, not able to hold yourself back anymore. Wrapping your lips around it, you take the head all the way into your wet, hot mouth, and suck. You lap up all the precum that leaked out, and point your tongue to play with the slit. The man behind the curtain is loud for you, letting you know just how good you’re making him feel. You get so lost in it that you don’t register him raising the curtain bar just enough for him to slip his hand past and push you off.

 “S-sorry,” He says, panting, “I was about to cum.”

 You make a small sound of confusion. “That’s okay, I can swallow- If you want me to.”

 Jeongguk shakes his head behind the curtain. “No, I- I wanna watch… see your hands stroke me off.” His request is quiet but his cock pulses in your hand, needy and hot. Already begging for release, despite you not being at it for that long.

 Wordlessly, you start stroking again, gathering the spit that’s on his tip to make the slide easier. It doesn’t take much time at all before his thighs are flexing and you can see the lower part of his abs tensing. 

 “Close,” He whispers.

 Jeongguk watches as your tiny hands fly up and down his cock, grip tight just like he showed you. He’s doing his best to not fuck up into your hands, wanting to just rely on you and your movements, but it’s hard. Small eager little thrusts of his hips show you how ruined he is. And it’s just a handjob. He knows. If he was present enough he would probably be embarrassed by how angry and red his cock is, swollen and hot in your palm. And he’s just so wet, leaking all over the place making the strokes of your hand loud in the room. 

 He watches as you hunch over some, to where he can see everything below your neck, and your free hand comes up to your shirt. He sees you struggle a little bit as do your best to get the collar down under your bra, with only one hand before squeezing at your tits. “Do you want to cum on them?” You whisper.

 “Fuck, please.” He whines high pitch and needy, all reservations out the window. 

 You hum, and work your arm faster over his cock, the rapid movements making your tits jiggle. “Do it, cum for me… cum all over my tits.”

 You can’t see him, but Jeongguk’s face is lewd. Pleasure so apparent on his features, it almost looks painful. His eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth open, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes are wet and glassy, so overwhelmed by finally getting help after so long of cumming by himself. He’s chanting soft, pornographic yeah’s and yes’s until his whole body curls in on itself, you can see the way his legs tremble as he moans, “Fuck, I’m cumming.”

 He forces himself to keep his eyes somewhat open, lidded and heavy with arousal, as he shoots all over your chest. You’re moaning with him behind the curtain as you work him through his orgasm, despite no physical pleasure being given to you, and that makes another small shot of cum dribble from his spent cock. You lean forward, careful of your identity, and wipe the leftover milky substance on your already soiled skin and black bra. You slap the slowly softening cock on them for good measure and Jeongguk groans.

 You keep playing with his cock, not sure if he’s the type to like it or the kind that wants you off right after he finishes, but he winces and reaches his hand under after not too long, stopping you.

 “Please,” He whines.

 His voice is fucked out, and your pussy aches, needy and wet in your panties. “Oh, sorry…”

 He laughs lightly. “No, no. Don’t say sorry… You’re like- so good.” Jeongguk sighs to himself out of your view. He’s leaning back in the chair, while running a hand through his sweaty hair. Little tremors of pleasure are still coursing through him, when he closes his eyes, blissed out, dazed and relaxed. Finally, after months of being pent up. “So, so good.” He murmurs softly, distractedly. 

 His hand that reached under the bar to grab yours to stop you, is lazily rubbing over the back of your hand, hold light and subconscious against his thigh. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it and you blush, shyly pulling your hand away. He doesn’t show any sign of even noticing and you both settle into a soft quiet, only your breaths sounding in the room.

 “Um.” You say eloquently.

 “Fuck sorry.” Jeongguk says, scooting the chair back to put his now soft cock away. He rolls his eyes to himself. Way to get stuck in the afterglow by himself with his flaccid cock in some girls face. “Let me get you a towel.”

 “Should I put the blindfold back on?” You ask.

 “Uh- Yeah.” He says stilted. This is weird. You just made him cum so hard he almost knocked out, and now he’s making you cover your eyes so you don’t figure out who he is. 

 You hear the hesitation in the man’s voice and assure him that it’s okay, while grabbing the blindfold you tucked into the waistband of your leggings. You knew how it went, you signed the papers. Patiently you wait until you hear him coming back and sense a soft moist towel being shoved under the bar. You blindly grab it with a soft, “Thanks.”

 “I’ll go wait in the bathroom so you can- I don’t know…? Get ready to go I guess.” You hear his heavy boots retreat to the bathroom, that’s located on his side of the curtain, assuring that he wouldn’t be seeing you on his way.

 With the blindfold off, you go about cleaning yourself. Your knees crack when you stand up after being sat on them for so long. Wincing, you run a hand through your long hair and walk over to the table where you left your bag. You leave the used rag in its place and you shoulder the purse. About to make your way to the door, you pause.

 “I’m uh- leaving?” You yell unsure.

 “Okay,” He yells back through the door. “Did you- did they- your- did they give you the-“ He stutters, not sure how to ask if you got paid.

 The wad of cash in your purse is heavy. Figuratively and literally. “Yeah, they did.” 

 “Okay… Good. I’ll um see you next time?” He sounds hesitant and shy. 

 You laugh. “Yeah I guess so.” And with that, you make your way out of the hotel, thinking that he sounds a whole lot less entitled and cocky than he did when you first got there.

~~~

hiii guysss! thanks for reading this lil drabble! This is kind of like a teaser for a longer fic i have on the back burner (let me know if you like the concept and want me to continue!) but i wanted to post something because i havent for a few weeks bc i have been soo busy with school pls i want to cry 🥲 i should be doing maths as i post this lmao. ANYWAY! thanks again for reading, if u liked it, pls like, comment, reblog, or even send an ask! love talking to u guys n feedback is always lovely <3

[oftenderweapons]

Dirty ABCs | Jungkook and Candy

Let’s celebrate birthday boy with early NSFW alphabet!!! LET’S GOOOOO

Pairing: Jungkook x reader/OC (Candy)

Wordcount: 2.1k

Genre: headcanons

Rating: 18+. Minors, do not interact.

Here’s my masterlist, enjoy!

Trigger warnings: switch!jk, switch!candy, swearing. Unprotected sex (penetrative and oral — REMEMBER TO USE PROTECTION AND GET CHECKED REGULARLY), double penetration, quickies, creampie, cockwarming, cum eating. Marking, biting, scratching. Masturbation, boobjobs. Mention of mommy kink. Public foreplay, semi-public sex, exhibitionism. Degradation, praise kink, dirty talking, edging, sensory deprivation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms. Predator/Prey dynamics. Choking. Bondage. Toys (vibrators, cockrings, sex swing… 👀). Mild torture (?). Platonic spanks.

Beta read by my better half, @joheunsaram

Aftercare: Jungkook likes cuddles and pillow talk after sex. He’s very traditional about it. He enjoys how vulnerable he feels and how tender Candy is towards him. He really enjoys the softness of it all, and most importantly being babied. He wants tiddies and a nap. Candy is all about spoiling her boyfriend after he’s burnt out and satisfied. She loves how pliant and open he feels afterwards, how easy it is to connect with him and just let him vent about his worries.

Body part: Another tiddie man. He just loves how soft and relaxing it feels to rest his head on Candy’s breasts. He also loves her hair and how good it always smells. He lives to nuzzle into her neck and breathe her in. Candy loves Jungkook’s back. It’s the sexiest thing ever and she likes watching his back muscles flex when he’s fucking her. She also loves his waist, so dainty and feline. And of course his eyes. She could stare into his loving dark irises for hours. They’re so expressive.

Cum: Inside. Jungkook always wants inside. Her mouth is a close second, but if given the chance he wants to sink deep into her and bathe in the scent of her while sheathed in her warmth. It feels natural and romantic and loving. There’s no other place he would want to be other than inside her, all the time. Candy is okay with anything he wants. Watching his peaceful, serene expression after he’s fucked her hard and has found his orgasm inside her is ultimately one of the reasons why she loves having sex with Jungkook.

Dirty secret: Jungkook had been secretly nursing a mommy kink for a while. It did pop up once during one of his and Candy's little encounters, but it's not something he feels ready to face. He is so ashamed of it. Candy is really into Jungkook being her whiny, subby, precious good boy. She only wants to spoil him rotten all the time. However she can't stop thinking about all the girls out there willing to give up a lung to have a one night stand with him. Sometimes she just wishes she could dominate him in public. Tie him up, ride him raw till he's dry.

Experience: Jungkook has had only one partner, with whom the sex felt pretty awful. He didn't really think he was into it or could go that wild before he and Candy started sleeping together. Candy is fairly experienced. She has had three or four short term relationships. Maybe a couple flings.

Favourite position: Jungkook can't pick just one. Well, actually yes: missionary, but with Candy's legs pressed together and thrown over his shoulder but also spread apart, her knees pressed to her shoulders. Candy really likes it when he picks her up and fucks her against the wall, or when he gets really creative. That usually entails lots of laughing and joking and communicating.

Goofy: maybe. It depends. If they're making love, then I do see Jungkook getting emotional and Candy brightening the mood with cute jokes and compliments. They do tend to be goofy when they're together, but usually not during sex. It's either a very emotionally raw moment or vicious fucking.

Hair: Jungkook shaves. He's a neat freak and shaves. He does so religiously. Candy is not that consistent, sometimes she shaves, sometimes she trims. Depends on the mood.

Intimacy: it's very demure but it's there. You wouldn't notice it because the moment Jungkook enters beast mode, it's pretty much degradation and overstimulation all over the place. But it's there too! It's in the mere fact that he trusts her enough to forget how to be civil and decent and just unleashes himself all over her. For the first ten times or so it's shy and attempted, he tiptoes around the very edge of control, but once she tells him she loves him, he goes all out and never stops. He explores and pleases. That's his nature. Candy is the one that grants intimacy the most. He knows he can go wild because she's his anchor, keeping things loving and gentle and tender even through the storm. Now, once Jungkook subs though… intimacy galore. Little touches and small kisses and endless tight hugs. Her first goal is to make him feel safe. And that happens through intimacy.

Jack off: These two? Really? No, you didn't understand. If Jungkook has even a remote chance of cumming inside her, there's no way he's masturbating. He will 300% ignore his instincts until he can have her. And it's pretty difficult for Candy not to be in the mood — or not to get into the mood, if need be. She's also not one for masturbating. She does it only when he's not available, be it because he's abroad or he's too busy. But he's always her first choice. Generally speaking it might happen that he's not in the mood and she decides to take a quick shower and deal with it herself, but usually he's joining her after a couple minutes, his mind changed, a bunny smile on his face as he winks and hops in.

Kink: First and foremost, cockwarming. Creampies shortly after. Candy has a thing for marking him, especially scratches down his muscular upper back. Their kinks depend on who's domming: if it's Jungkook, there's plenty of degradation and high chances of predator/prey dynamics. He gets very horny if Candy plays hard to catch, and he discovers it accidentally, after Candy stole the last serving of his favourite snack. Useless to say, the snack was forgotten and they fucked on the floor. Candy likes choking (receiving) and pretty much anything Jungkook is willing to try. She can't wait to try double penetration with him, she's just waiting for him to open up about the topic. When domming, she's into sensory deprivation, bondage, praise kink and edging, especially when boobjobs are involved, since JK is particularly sensitive about the topic. As long as she has him whining and begging below her, she's ready to try anything.

Location: Well, the bedroom is the place of choice for most occasions. Not always though. The shower is a strong opponent. If they do get naughty outside of their home, it's usually in quite private places too. Hotel rooms. Club or restaurant bathrooms. Foreplay in the lift and on the dance floor — mostly Candy rubbing herself all over Jungkook. Well, they did get nasty in a cave once, but that's another story.

Motivation: as I said, playing catch with Jungkook is always a good way to get him in the mood. He's extremely weak for breasts, so anything regarding those is a hot topic too. Candy often wears loose/low neck shirts and leans over, offering him a glimpse of her lack of bra. Low neckline and no bra usually means "please, fuck me across the living room, thank you" in Candy language. While for Candy, watching Jungkook work out or just get sweaty and flirty is a total panty snatcher. You'll find her bent over, ass up, ready for the take.

No: Jungkook doesn't like receiving degradation. Memories of his ex make him uncomfortable with that. Other than that, he strongly opposes to anything that involves hardcore domination. He can be a dom, but he's extremely sensitive about what he does and some acts are a bit too aggressive for his opinion. Candy hadn't tried anything unconventional before Jungkook, and so far all her past no's have turned into hard yes with Jungkook. She's still exploring her limits.

Oral: Jungkook? Hell yes. He likes receiving but he by far prefers giving, especially when Candy is domming or directing him. He could do that for hours, and his love for the act almost rivals that of our local kitty cat Yoongi. His true joy is being rewarded going for multiples with his head between Candy's thighs. Especially if he's cum inside her. Not too fast though, he needs some cockwarming first. Candy is a true fan of giving head. She especially likes doing so when Jungkook is in a subby and bratty mood. Listening to him getting vocal about his appreciation is always the greatest compliment to her, and also an excellent way to discipline him when he gets cocky.

Pace: Fast. Hard. That's all there is. If he's setting the pace, it's outright demonic, hitting at least 74bpm (it's Kiwi by Harry Styles in halftime). Yes, he can go slower, usually when he's in lover boy mode or even better, when he's trying to show Candy who's the boss. Slow, lazy rolls of his hips reaching unknown depths. If Candy's on top/domming it's all about it being intimate, calm, relaxing even. She wants Jungkook to explore a sensuality he is too rushed and forceful for. Through her slow and steady approach she helps him embrace a more feminine and spiritual sexuality that borders on the psychological and tantric.

Quickie: yes. Hard yes. He is the best with quickies. Just get it over with so they're both relieved and they can chat about their day while he's still inside her. There's not much to say. Just yes.

Risk: they prefer avoiding it, however they're young and experimenting, therefore they do sometimes get a bit past the safety line. The biggest risk for them is doing anything where they could be spotted, therefore they're really subtle and overall not too explicit about anything happening in a semi-public context. Except, that one time while they were on holiday, of course. And that other time in which Candy almost jerked him off in a restaurant before blowing him in his car.

Stamina: Insane. Jungkook's stamina is more about endurance rather than control. He can make Candy cum five or six times while he cums twice and is more than glad. He can go for two consecutive rounds without breaking a sweat. For himself he's usually more than happy with a round of foreplay and one of fucking, but if he's determined enough, he can last one more. He usually doesn't push himself that far though, he does when he's been deprived for long enough.

Toy: Although toys aren't usually a part of their sex life, they do use them every now and then. Vibrators, vibrating cockrings, oh! And their sex swing, of course. That's what they use the most, yes.

Unfair: If Jungkook is in hard dom mode, he is very unfair, plenty of teasing and taunting matched with mockery and degradation. He can keep Candy on her toes for a full hour, giving her small reprieve every here and there. Candy is also equally torturous: if she's domming, she's not done edging him until he's whining, sobbing, begging and possibly crying.

Volume: Normally, Candy is very quiet however, Jungkook always goes the extra mile to make her moan and whine, especially if he's eating her out. Jungkook can be especially eloquent with his sounds: grunting and groaning are typically for his dommier side, while whining and whimpering are usually for his subby one. Moaning is all over the place. Consider also a good amount of murmuring and mumbling some dirty talking. Not too much though.

Wild card: Jungkook likes his hair being combed during aftercare. Candy always relaxes while he speaks loving words to make up for the degradation and mockery. She could fall asleep while combing his hair, she's just that tired and comfortable. Also! When he installed the sex swing in their room, he decided it was a good idea to have permanent hooks on the ceiling, mask them with fake plants. Crackhead.

X-Ray: Jungkook has a nice cock. Not too long, not too thick but it has an upward curve that makes stuff interesting. He's probably around six or seven inches. Candy has objectively nice breasts, full, round, truly well structured. And she has a nice ass too, Jungkook likes squeezing it when she throws her leg on top of him during cuddles. He also spanks it a few tens of times a day — not in the sexual way tho, but more in that encouragement/comradery way he has learnt with the guys.

Yearning: Jungkook can go without sex for a long time. I'm talking about a month and more. It's not a priority for him, except right after he and Candy sleep together for the first time, when he needed to get rid of the high. With him, everything is very inconsistent: one week you're having sex every day, and the following one, he's just all about the cuddles and fluff. Candy is up for anything, however she prefers having sex at least once or twice a week. Both feel safe to initiate without fearing being denied. For them, arousal is very easily built through playing and bantering.

Zzz: both take a while to fall asleep after sex. Plenty of time for pillow talking and cleaning up, though they prefer doing so very pragmatically. Any time spent apart during aftercare is a waste to both of them: they just want to talk things out, relax, bask in each other's warm presence.

[bookishofalder]

Catfish & Sunshine

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Mini Series

Summary: Frankie is secretly in love with his best friend. Thanks in part to Benny’s shitty horror movie recommendation and stray ice cream, feelings come out unexpectedly during movie night. 

Warnings: Language, SMUT, little angst, lots of fluff, poor writer understanding of US military benefits/retirement. WC 8,215.

A/N: I dreamed this up after rewatching Triple Frontier about a month ago (for the plot, of course) and let it sit for a while. Became inspired to finish it off this week and share it with you all-so please let me know your thoughts!

For over a decade, Saturday nights were, for Frankie Morales, usually spent with his best friends over drinks at their favourite bar. When deployed, the bar was instead smuggled whiskey that they shared under the stars, an attempt to imagine they were anywhere other than the current hellhole. As Special Ops soldiers, Frankie and his buddies had been through the worst of the worst together, until one by one they retired or were forced to retire, and then they were back to regular appearances at the local bar, for a while the five of them, then four.

Until Frankie met you.

Had someone come up to him during one of those nights years before and told Frankie that one day he’d be bringing you along to the bar to join him and the guys, he’d have laughed in their faces. But for a while, that was exactly what occurred, until you and Frankie grew so close that you usually ended up making different plans, like going mini-golfing, or lounging at his apartment and watching movies. Not that you didn’t love the guys, all whom you’d met except for Santi as he had been off the grid for just over a year when you and Frankie had met.

It was thanks to the elder Miller brother, Will, that he had even met you at all. Working at the VA office, Will had learned of one of the few retirement perks they had for putting their asses on the line for their country-physical therapy. And you came highly recommended, a star PT who had worked magic over his friends' ailments. Knowing Frankie suffered from shoulder and neck pains, Will handed him your card and encouraged him to book an appointment.

He hadn’t called straight away. He’d popped your card onto his fridge and every day he’d pass by it, consider calling, and then talk himself out of it. Until the pain became too much to bear, his latest menial job just a little too physical for him, causing him to consider using again just to dull the ache. But he’d walked by your card moments later and instead of making a terrible decision he had promised himself he’d never make again, he called your office. Made an appointment with your friendly receptionist, who thankfully had his name already because Will had put in a good word for Frankie and asked that they try and get him in straight away, whenever he finally did call.

Two days later Frankie was standing nervously in the treatment room, looking at a wall decorated with your various degrees and certificates. He was anxious not only because he worried he’d get his hopes up that this would help the pain only to be disappointed, but also because he had no idea what to expect. Years of service as a pilot had made Frankie into a man who planned, meticulously, leaving little in the way of surprises. But he’d reasoned that calling the office back and demanding they give him a minute-by-minute account of what the appointment would be like was probably going too far.

And then you had walked in and immediately his worries morphed into concern over the fact that he required a beard trim, that he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and popped his usual cap on, probably appearing a little gruff. And fuck, he almost couldn’t breathe when you gave him the most dazzling, genuine smile like you were greeting an old friend. You were bright, a rare energy radiating off of you as though you absorbed it straight from the fucking sun, and you were beautiful. No wonder Will had winked at Frankie when he’d handed you the business card.

You were observant, introducing yourself and seemingly sensing his overall discomfort. Instead of launching straight to business, you gestured for him to sit and spent a good twenty minutes casually chatting, pulling information you needed from him while putting him at ease entirely. He learned then that Will had already sung Frankie’s praises, given you the heads up that he was a worrier and even told a few stories that showcased his talents as a pilot.

If Frankie didn’t know any better, he’d think his friend was trying to play matchmaker.

All thoughts of Will Miller, and pretty much every other thing on the planet, vanished the moment you laid your expert hands on to Frankie. You zeroed in on the worst source of pain and slowly worked away, and he could only agree with Will that you had magic hands. He could have died happily right then, as you chatted away and brought him the most relief he’d felt in years. You would pause occasionally to check in with his pain levels and make sure he was doing alright, always asking him to look at you to answer and searching his face as he spoke to ensure he was telling the truth.

The care you gave Frankie in just one appointment was enough to start him falling. And he kept going back, multiple appointments a week that not only had him walking taller, feeling lighter on his feet and reducing his migraines to seldom, but also allowing him to get to know you better. You were the kind of sweet-natured person that cried when you saw a sad commercial, laughed freely to the lamest of jokes, and seemed to wake up on the right side of the bed every day. You were sunshine, literal, tangible sunshine, and Frankie thought you might not even realize it.

Though Frankie had convinced himself early on that a woman as beautiful and kind as you could never be interested in a grouch like him, with his crows' feet and a closet full of demons. The longer he knew you little seeds of hope would sprout whenever he made you laugh so hard you had to stop the treatment just to hold your stomach as you giggled. Or when you’d share something with him innocent enough but, upon reflection, he would think it wasn’t something a normal patient-provider relationship would find exchanged.

But there was the age difference, a decade between you both that, if nothing else worked, would successfully extinguish his hope. He had wondered if perhaps you were just a decent people person, that the friendship he felt was there was entirely one-sided.

Until one day, a few months into coming to you for treatment, Frankie sat waiting for you to come in the room only for you to appear looking entirely unlike yourself. He booked his appointments always for the end of the day, a routine that promised he would get plenty of uninterrupted time with you and the conversation could flow without a time constraint. He had been so surprised that you weren’t grinning as you stepped into the room that he stood abruptly, filling with concern.

When he asked, softly, if you were alright, you didn’t brush him off like he might have expected. You instead looked up at Frankie, your lower lip trembling as your eyes filled with tears, and sobbed unexpectedly. That sound had torn a hole right into his chest and he had pulled you straight into his arms and hugged you close before asking you to tell him what he could do to help.

You ended up explaining that you had come in that morning to the news that a regular patient of yours, an elderly man you’d known the entire time you’d been working for the VA office, had passed away in his sleep. And you’d apologized to Frankie while sniffling and wiping at the tears, telling him you’d held it in all day but couldn’t do that when your friend asked you, and he had been baffled to realize you were referring to him. As your friend.

He had cut off your apology to hug you close again, smoothing your hair gently as he whispered calming words and sentiments to you in Spanish. And though you didn’t speak the language, you had since told Frankie it had done exactly what he’d hoped and made you feel all the better. 

After his treatment that day, Frankie asked if he could take you for a drink to toast your friend's life. He waited for you to close up the office, and then you’d followed him in your car to drive over to his usual bar. And you both drank to the veteran who passed, then ended up ordering dinner and remaining at the bar until late, talking even more freely outside of the office. If Frankie didn’t already have it bad for you, that night sure sealed it for him.

After that, you and Frankie began texting regularly, sometimes even calling one another to share a funny story or talk about something in the news. He had joined you for your former clients funeral, his hand rubbing comforting circles into your back before he took you out for lunch, then you’d ended up at his place to watch a cheesy movie, ordering pizza when you both realized there was a sequel that, if it was as bad as the first, you absolutely needed to watch.

And just like that, Frankie saw his life altered completely when you became his best friend.  

Currently, Frankie was seated comfortably on his couch, where he frowned at the TV playing a horror movie that you had insisted was supposed to be good, because Benny had recommended it. Considering the younger Miller brother could barely sit still half the time, that was supposedly good enough for you. 

You were tucked into Frankie’s side, eyes fixed on the screen until a jump scare had you jerk, then twist your face to press into his chest, because you hated the gory bits.

“Fuck! How does this not scare you even a little, Frankie?” You whined, unknowingly causing Frankie to swell with pride when he heard the note of admiration in your voice. He had started to suspect that the reason movie nights were becoming exclusively scary movies was that you were determined to find one that actually frightened him.

So far, you’d had no luck. But Frankie didn’t mind, because though you were already a touchy person in general, you were especially clingy when you queued up the next horror flick as if you trusted him to keep you safe.

Frankie didn’t reply, his chest rumbling with silent laughter that made you teasingly poke his side. He jumped, because you knew exactly where to aim, then cleared his throat. The scene ended, and he began to extract himself from your grip. “My sweet tooth is calling, cariño. I’m going to get some ice cream.”

You let him go, your head popping up, a big grin on your face, “Can I have some too, please?” And he nodded, smiling at you before walking across the open concept apartment and into his kitchen.

He stretched his back before opening the freezer where he had some bars next to an off-limits pint of Ben and Jerry’s. You had put it there months ago, telling Frankie it was for days when you got together and one of you needed to cry over a bad date. You called it ‘emergency’ ice cream. Frankie considered it to be ‘fuck you’ ice cream, because every time he opened his damn freezer he saw that pint and ended up thinking about how neither of you had been on a date with anyone since becoming friends over a year before, then falling into the same circular argument with himself-that the friendship was too important for him to feel the way he did, that he was jumping to conclusions and maybe you had gone on a few good dates that you just didn’t tell him about, and he was out of his mind if he thought you would ever feel the same way.

“Here you go, Sunshine,” He plopped back down next to you and passed you your bar, watching as you beamed at him widely, the inevitable result of his use of the nickname he’d dubbed you with a long time ago.

He desperately hoped you never realized the amount of affection truly behind that nickname.

Because how could he even begin to explain that you were literally sunshine in his dark life?

“Thank you,” You pulled the wrapper off, glancing at the movie and frowning. “Uhg. Benny promised the one was good! I’m starting to think he only recommends movies if they have at least one pair of tits.” You took the first bite of your ice cream bar while Frankie nearly choked on his own.

Amused as he was whenever you joked about your shared friends, Frankie also loved it when you swore. You were a goofy, happy little thing most of the time and curse words just seemed so out of character for you, pulling laughter from Frankie any time you caught him by surprise. You spent your days around gruff veterans and never seemed to lose any light, no matter how many real horror stories you heard. So whenever you managed to sound so uncharacteristically blunt, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Benny has always been a tits man,” Frankie agreed, and you giggled. He tried to refocus on the movie then, but it hadn’t captured his interest in the least. After a moment, you spoke again and he had to work on not choking.

“What are you, Francisco?”

Your tone was playful, light; Frankie’s head jerked in surprise to gaze down at you and you wiggled your brows, going for laughs. You seemed completely unaware of the roaring in his ears, the visceral reaction your words brought forth within him. You and Frankie had shared intimate tidbits like that before with one another, often during nights at the bar with the Miller brothers. After a few drinks and usually, because his friends knew exactly how he felt about you and tried to steer the conversations into dangerous waters and watch Frankie try to save himself.

Only, Frankie’s friendship with you during the last few months had become...deeper. After the operation Santiago had brought Will, Benny, Tom and him in on, your relationship had evolved. Because that nightmare had reminded Frankie just how dark shit could get in the blink of an eye, and he’d had to do things he thought he was done with when he retired from service. Worse, because they were just civilians using Santi’s connections and intel to rob a drug lord.

And you had no idea what he’d gone through, how hard he’d fought just to get home to you because he couldn’t-wouldn’t-tell you. Yet you still patched him up, physically and emotionally, when he’d come home three weeks later than he’d promised. You held him as he cried and never became angry with him, never questioned him for answers as to why he’d come home with one less friend and a whole lot of mysterious trauma.

After that, Frankie realized he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you.

So a simple, flirtatious little question? Yeah, it really managed to fuck Frankie up.

His friends had sensed the change as well, noticed how you held Frankie up when he felt like he couldn’t stand, how you comforted them all when they got home and cried along with them over Tom, over Santi not coming home even though you’d only met him once, briefly. You held strong for him at Tom’s funeral, which prompted the Miller brothers to tell Frankie in no uncertain terms that he simply could not let you slip through his fingers. If that fucking mission had taught them anything, it was that life was too short and you might as well live it to the fullest.

But the thing was, Frankie depended on you. Your friendship was the one real, good, pure thing in his life. And you gave it so willingly and unquestionably even after what he put you through that there was no fucking way he was risking it by telling you how he felt.

Christ, you even had a spot in his bathroom for your own toiletries, a favourite pillow on his bed for the nights you stayed, a fucking hook for your coat that he installed just a little lower than the other because you were so much smaller than Frankie.

And still, he wouldn’t look at what that might mean because he was afraid, and as much as you seemed to think nothing scared him, the truth was that a gory horror movie, or losing his friend, or even fucking live combat could never come close to the fear he felt when he pictured life without you.

You were Frankie’s Sunshine, and he never wanted to be alone in the dark again.

Aware he was still gazing down at you, Frankie found himself entirely at a loss for words. You didn’t seem to mind, simply waiting for him to respond while taking small bites of your treat. His cock twitched at the combination of your words, the innocent way you gazed at him, because Frankie hadn’t touched himself in quite some time and it didn’t take much to drive him up the wall.

His life with you had become remarkably domestic, routine. You often stayed multiple nights in a row at his place, preferring his company over being alone, and the shorter distance to your office. His spacious condo had one large four-piece bathroom, which meant there had been a few times where one of you was in the shower and the other came in, desperate to use the toilet before their bladder could burst. The shower had a thickly frosted glass enclosure, which provided plenty of visual privacy from both sides, the only indication that someone was in the shower was a very faint tint. This was never an issue until it was.

Exactly sixty-two days prior (not that Frankie was necessarily keeping count of passing time since his last orgasm), you had burst into the bathroom one afternoon unexpectedly. Returning early from your jog because you needed to pee, while Frankie stood in the shower. He listened to you tell him about a cute dog you’d seen outside his building. The thing was, Frankie had expected you to be gone longer, and you were in the middle of a three-day visit that had left him needy and horny because he hadn’t had time alone and yet you walked around in his fucking clothes, slept next to him in his bed, and he needed release.

He was grateful the tinted glass prevented you from having any idea what he was doing on the other side. And he had been close already when you came in, one hand fisting over his cock while the other pressed into the tile wall, and guilt sprang up in the back of his mind because he had been thinking of you as he touched himself. And you were just feet away, unaware and fuck if that didn’t lead him to the edge.

But it was when you had sat down to pee and he heard you give a little moan of relief that Frankie lost it, giving in to the most powerful-yet silent-orgasm he had had in fucking years. Rope after rope of cum, his legs violently shaking, and he’d wondered if he would pass out it felt so good. Then you’d flushed and continued speaking, washing your hands before telling him you were going to put on a pot of coffee. And the guilt Frankie felt was so immense that he vowed right there he wasn’t going to touch himself again. He cared for and respected you too much to reduce you to his graphic thoughts without your consent.

Sixty-two days later and you were testing his limits unknowingly.

“I, uh, I’m not sure,” He replied, keeping his eyes locked on yours. You frowned a little, kitten licking the ice cream absentmindedly. Frankie almost groaned, wondering if you were trying to kill him. “I guess, it depends on the person.” He was never, ever going to admit he was a you man, that your ass, your perfect tits, your pretty little mouth were everything he could dream and more.

He tried to shrug casually, as if indifferent.

“I guess it’s a funny question,” You said after a moment, laughing a little, “I mean, no one asks a straight woman if she’s an ass or cock girl!”  

Frankie took a too-large bite of his treat, the cold painful and giving him instant brain freeze but it was just the distraction he needed because seeing your plump lips wrap around the word ‘cock’ might just kill him. He coughed attempting to laugh at your joke despite the brain freeze, and you leaned closer in concern.

“Sorry, are you-ah, shit!” A piece of your ice cream bar, which you’d moved to hold higher as you were checking on Frankie, fell off and landed on your chest, instantly staining the pale pink t-shirt. You hopped up with a noise of discontent, catching the fallen glob and hurrying into the kitchen to toss it in the sink. “Damn it!”

Frankie reached out and paused the movie, standing up and intending to follow you. He took two steps, adjusting his cap as he moved, and then looked up to where you stood at the sink, running your shirt under the faucet. Freezing, he took it the sight of you standing in his kitchen, your shirt removed to run under the water, leaving you wearing yoga pants and a simple white bra. For a moment, he just shut down and stared at you dumbfounded, before internal alarms started sounding and Frankie’s eyes were sweeping over your curves, his eyes zeroing in on the lack of support your bra had, your breasts perky and full and fuck, he had to look away.

He looked up at his ceiling at cleared his throat “You uh, want me to grab you a shirt?” His voice came out much deeper than he was expecting. He hoped you didn’t notice, though with only being able to see your profile even if he did dare to look at you, he’d never be able to tell.

“Can I borrow your big sweater, please?” You asked him, and Frankie nodded as he hurried away, down the hall to grab the sweater he knew you meant from his room. He would have laughed at your suggestion it was his sweater when he barely got to wear it himself anymore, but he was trying to remember how to breathe.

Once out of sight in his bedroom, Frankie took a few steadying breaths before grabbing the sweater off the end of his bed. He was going to subject himself to a cold shower after he handed this to you because you were staying the night again and he could not climb into a bed with you this worked up.

One of the reasons that you and Frankie just worked as friends were your opposite ways of navigating life. Where Frankie was a detailed, meticulous planner, you flitted from idea to idea spontaneously until something landed right, and you seemed to enjoy pulling him along with you as you followed those random whims. And he let you pull him because he trusted you so completely. Even if he would still make a new plan in the back of his mind, it still felt like he was taking chances he never would have without you leading the way.

Planning was Frankie’s way of keeping control. Of keeping himself, his squadmates, his loved ones, safe and secure. After Columbia, where every bit of the plan had gone completely to shit, he’d needed to let you lead more often just so he could feel grounded because he didn’t trust himself any longer. And you had been happy to lead, to test his limits by pushing aside any planning he attempted and pull him from his comfort zone. You had taught him how to grapple with his instincts and his desires, giving him real-world methods to cope, including breathing as he was now.

So focused as he was on his breathing, Frankie hadn’t noticed you had joined him in his room, standing just inside the doorway. If he had heard you, he wouldn’t have spun around abruptly and take two long strides before realizing how close you were, nearly knocking you over as he did. He dropped the sweater when he reached out with both hands to grab your upper arms and steady you, and then he met your gaze.

Frankie couldn’t say whether it was the heat of his hands on you so unexpectedly, or the way you each shivered at the electricity that seemed to pulse from him to you. Maybe it was everything combined, years of friendship, longing and pining and then almost dying in the middle of the jungle only to come home and have you climb into his lap and sob in relief that he was home, and a million other moments in between.

But when Frankie met your eyes there in the doorway of his bedroom, he knew his expression was giving him away completely.

You were looking at him with wide eyes, your mouth slightly open in surprise, whatever words you were going to say long since lost. And then he saw it, was looking right at you when your expression shifted, no longer the innocent, playful woman but instead, one who was suffering just as much as he was, longing and love and this hunger on your face he’d never seen before.

Without hesitating, without thinking or planning his next move, Frankie tugged you against him and leaned down to slot his lips over yours, taken aback when he saw you close your eyes and stretch your neck up to meet him. When your soft lips connected to his, Frankie trembled and groaned, loving the feel of your body pressed against him, the way you smelled like something tropical, how even with your perfect curves you were so small compared to him. Kissing you was everything he’d dreamed and more.

He wanted to deepen the kiss, taste you, but even as he thought it his mind jumped ten steps ahead and imagined you on his bed and he had to stop himself from getting carried away. With great effort he pulled back, first breaking the kiss and then taking several steps away, panting heavily.

“Frankie?” You were out of breath, confused, and deliciously flushed. He could see your nipples tightened against the thin fabric of your bra, goosebumps along your skin. Just the knowledge that he’d had that kind of effect on you was enough to make him want to cum in his pants right there.

“Cariño, I can’t, I’m sorry,” It was physically painful now, his hard length straining against his jeans, but he was more concerned about you, and how afraid he was to lose you. “I-I’ve wanted to do that but you gotta know, I love you. I’m in love with you.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to look at his feet and rubbing his hands over his face.

You approached him again, just as quietly, taking him by surprise when you spoke from just inches away. “Frankie, look at me,” It was an order, a tone you rarely used but that always worked on grounding him, and he realized you understood he was struggling right now not to break down, terrified he’d fucked up the best thing in his life in a moment of weakness. He reluctantly met your gaze, swallowing thickly as he did.

“I need you to hear me right now, okay? Tell me.”

“I’m listening,” He confirmed, heart about ready to beat out of his chest, “I can hear you.”

“Good,” And you closed the gap between your body and his, pressing your hands into his shoulders. Frankie caught his breath. “I want you to do that again, and I don’t want you to stop. Please, kiss me again, Frankie, because I love you too and I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life than I want you-“

Frankie cut you off, a growl ripping from his chest before he gathered you roughly into his arms and kissed you again, this time quickly swiping his tongue across your lips for permission to enter, and you gladly parted them for him, moaning when his tongue licked into your hot mouth. He slid one hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving into your hair carefully before he pressed your face to his, needy to taste you more, to get drunk on you. Fuck, you were perfect.

When you whimpered against him, the sound almost lost in his mouth, Frankie moved, walking you back until you hit the wall and crowding you there. He ran his free hand across the bare skin of your side, heat coursing through his veins when you shuddered at his touch, keening for him. He hadn’t realized he was rolling his hips against you, his erection pressed into your stomach until one of your small hands somehow slipped between your bodies and ghosted over the front of his jeans curiously.

“Fuck,” He broke the kiss, this time simply to lower his head and kiss along your jaw, down your neck, “Sunshine, I fucking love you, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, sweet girl.” He licked the column of your throat as he moved to the other side of your face before biting gently. The sound that tore from you was so filthy he groaned again, dropping both hands to grasp your forearms.

“Frankie, fuck, don’t stop,” You were tugging at his shirt, and despite your request, he had to move back slightly to pull it over his head, his bare chest revealed to you and even though you’d seen him shirtless before, the intimacy of this time, of finally being with you after so long, made him self conscious. If you saw anything you didn’t like, you didn’t show it. Instead, you bit your lip as your hands tentatively roamed across his chest, trailing over his stomach lightly enough that he shivered. When you spoke next, you yet again took Frankie completely by surprise, your brows furrowing as your expression became more than just hungry, “Mine.”

You whispered it, but to Frankie, it was like you’d just announced it to the entire world. The possessive edge wasn’t lost on him, no, it shot straight to his core and snapped the final cords of his restraint.

“I should...I need a minute, Sunshine,” Frankie pressed his hands into the wall on either side of you, “I haven’t done anything in a long time, haven’t even cum, I don’t think I can be as sweet to you as I want to be.”

Your lust-blown eyes met his, “Why haven’t you cum?” He could hear trouble in your voice now, the not so careful way you spoke pulling dangerous images in his mind as he stared down at you, his jaw tense. When Frankie made no reply, you pressed your pointer finger to the middle of his chest, your eyes never leaving his as you slowly, lightly, moved it downward, trailing his dark hair. “Is it because you think of me? Are you that amazing that you won’t even let yourself cum because you think it’s wrong to think about me like that?”

A strangled noise was all he could respond with, his hands pressing desperately into the wall. You knew him too well, understood exactly what he’d meant without having to ask. And then you kept talking, and honestly, Frankie was floored at how dirty you suddenly were for him.

“I have to admit, you’re better than me, Frankie,” That finger trailed so slowly, closing in on his belly button now, “I’m not good like you, I think about you all the time. Especially when I touch myself, usually after I’ve spent a ton of time with you and I can’t fucking wait for a second longer. Wanna know what I picture?”

His voice was husky, a warning if ever there was one, “What did you picture, sweet girl?”

You moaned, your finger now closing in on the waist of his jeans, “You, bending me over the couch, that one is a favourite. Or waking you up with a blowjob, swallowing everything you’ve got because I know you taste delicious,” You unbuttoned his jeans now, sliding the zipper down with care, “But I think the winner, the one that always makes me scream your name, is thinking about riding you, Frankie. Climbing in your lap and just-“

Fuck, fuck he couldn’t hold back. He’d told you he couldn’t and yet you wouldn’t shut up and all thoughts of making love to you gently were out the fucking window, Frankie instead growled deeply and grabbed you by the arms, all but throwing you on the bed. You were smirking up at him, your eyes dark with lust and shining with triumph.

“Fuck, sweet girl, you wanna scream my name?” He removed his pants and briefs in one motion, his cock spring up, hard and leaking precum and you licked your lips, giving a little whimper at the sight of him. Frankie grasped himself, pumping his hand a few times as he stood over you, “Like what you see?”

“Jesus, Frankie-you need a new nickname,” You said, eyes glued to his cock, “Catfish makes no sense when you’re walking around with that fucking bat-wait!” He froze in the middle of removing his ball cap, looking at you with concern to see you bite your lip a little shyly, “Keep it on. The hat.”

Warmth spread through him at your request and Frankie replaced the hat on his head, then dropped to his knees next to the bed, his hands running up your thighs as you writhed. At your waist, he grasped the tops of your yoga pants and tugged them down, enjoying the way your body arched when you lifted your hips to help him. The only item of clothing either of you wore now was you in your bra, and fuck were you a sight.

Frankie gazed up at you from the floor in awe, his eyes roving over you hungrily as you watched him, propped up on your elbows. He started kissing up your thighs then, pushing your legs apart and spreading you, his hands kneading your flesh. “Sweet girl, you have such a pretty pussy, better than I imagined.” He moaned, biting into the soft flesh of your inner leg and drawing a whimper from you, “I can fucking smell you already, so wet and ready for me, fuck.”

“Oh god Frankie, please, touch me. I can’t wait anymore, I need you!”

“Told you,” Frankie climbed over top of you, his legs on either side of your body as he reached down and dragged you further onto the bed, his show of strength making you whimper, “It’s been a while. And you walk around here wearing my fucking clothes all the time. You don’t know what you do to me, Sunshine.” He grunted as he repositioned himself between your legs, his hands grasping the backs of them to haul your body against his, his cock pressed painfully against your thigh, “Gonna fuck you, sweet girl.” And with one careful, quick motion he thrust forward and each of you cried out at the pleasure of Frankie filling you.

“Frankie! Oh!” Your legs wrapped around him instantly, urging him as deep as possible as he split you open so deliciously. Once he was fully seated within you, Frankie dropped forward, propping himself on one arm, and cupped your face with his free hand. He looked into your eyes as he started a fast, hard pace, thrusting deep and reeling over how wet you were for him, how perfectly your velvet folds wrapped around him.

“Fuck, cariño, you’re fucking tight,” He grunted, kissing you sloppily as you threw your arms around him, hugging him close, “So tight for me, so perfect making those pretty noises, fuck.” Frankie groaned when you clenched around him as he spoke, “You like it when I tell you how perfect you are?”

“Ye-yeah Frankie, I love it. Oh, fuck!”

You were trembling now, squeezing him each time he whispered in your ear. Frankie kept up a string of praises and filthy words, taking note of the ones that had you gripping him extra hard.

He’d always had a casual enjoyment of dirty talk, nothing over the top, easy enough to shut off if it wasn’t enjoyed by the other person. But something about talking like this to you had his balls tightening that much faster, his thrusts becoming brutal.

Still murmuring in your ear, Frankie lowered his hand to your clit, experimentally rubbing, circling and pinching it to see what you liked. He was going to cum soon, and he’d be damned if you didn’t cum too. Though, as Frankie settled on circling you, both feeling and hearing how this was definitely how you liked it, his worries quickly dissipated when your hips were suddenly bucking up to meet his and you were screaming his name.

“That’s it, let go for me sweet girl,” Frankie’s thrusts were becoming increasingly sloppy as he neared the edge, “Are you-fuck, where should I?” He couldn’t even form a sentence now, he was so close and you were squeezing around him so perfectly as you closed in on your orgasm.

You understood though, your eyes meeting his as you pulled yourself together enough to reply, “Frankie, cum inside me please, please fill me up, pleasepleaseplease-“

“Fuck! H-here you go, perfect little thing!” He roared, dropping his weight over your and growling as he spilled inside you, as you bucked and writhed beneath him and screamed out, toppling over the edge and into oblivion with him. He heard himself cursing in Spanish as he experienced the most intense orgasm of his entire life, his hips slowing to continue to draw it out, still more cum filling you and you were a wreck under him, shivering and moaning.

“Yes, Frankie, yes.” You whimpered, your hands sliding into his hair-knocking his cap off-and tugging at his curls.

It took several minutes to recover, though Frankie had enough awareness to shift his weight so that you could breathe properly. Still hard inside you, he began to kiss you all over, peppering your face and neck before biting a few more marks into your neck, his tongue laving out to soothe. He enjoyed the way you whimpered when overstimulated, twitching when he pinched your nipple over your bra, squeaking his name when he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could one last time before pulling out.

Frankie collapsed on the bed next to you, then quickly tugged you into his arms and kissed the top of your head. His fear began to bubble back up now that the haze of passion was clearing, and he was starting to question every single moment that had occurred since you'd asked him if he was a tits man or an ass man.

What had he done? Was he going to lose you after this? Lose his entire reason for living for one amazing orgasm?

But it was like you could reach his mind, as only a few minutes had passed and then, with a little groan, you pulled yourself up so that you were on your elbow, looking down at Frankie. You took one look at his face and frowned, “That was quicker than I thought.”

Frankie stared at you, “What was?”

“I guessed it would take more than two minutes for you to start regretting this.”

Sighing, he pulled himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. You followed, but crossed your legs and shuffled next to him. “I meant what I said, I love you,” Frankie explained, rubbing a hand over his face, “I love you so much, so fucking much it hurts. But the idea of messing this up is terrifying me, Sunshine. I don’t think I could lose you, I think it would kill me.”

“Frankie,” You crawled over him, straddling his hips and settling into his lap. You cupped his face firmly, looking into his eyes. Your expression was open, warm and vulnerable and a little incredulous, “You aren’t going to lose me, not ever. I want this-I want you, and everything you come with, okay?”

Though his heart was soaring, Frankie still worried, shaking his head, “I come with a lot of dark baggage, sweet girl. Not to mention the age difference.”

“Jesus, Frankie, do you really think I don’t know what I’m saying when I tell you I’m all in?” You asked him, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “I love you. Can I tell you when I knew?”

Frankie peered at you, his hands coming to hold your waist as he nodded.

“The boys trip.” You stated, using the term each of you agreed upon when referencing his three-week disappearance to Columbia. “When you first left, I knew something was off but I trust you, so I didn’t question it. But then after a few days, with no word from you, I started to really worry,” You paused, momentarily lost in thought, eyes dark now with the painful memory of his absence and the little information you’d come to learn about it since. “Did I ever tell you I booked a ticket to Columbia?”

This caught Frankie off guard because you most certainly had not told him that, “What, are you serious?”

“Yep. Booked it for the day after you ended up calling me. I don’t know what I was planning to do, but I knew you were there and, even if you were dead, I needed to be as well.” You stroked your thumbs over his cheeks, “After you called, and I knew you were alive and coming home, I realized that the way you said it meant you almost didn’t make it home, and I knew you weren’t saying something. I hung up and sat in my room for a minute and it occurred to me that you could have died and I would have never seen you again. That was when I knew it wasn’t just a crush.”

Heavy emotion filled his chest, rendering him unable to immediately respond. Frankie gathered you close and stood, clutching you against him and carrying you into the bathroom. He set you on the toilet before turning to his massive soaker tub and switching it on, fully intending on spending the rest of the night in there with you. When he turned around, you were carefully tidying yourself up. With a grunt, he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under warm water before kneeling in front of you and taking over.

“Why didn’t you say anything? After I came home, I mean.” His tone was light, as he didn’t mean to come across as accusing you of anything-it’s not like he had said anything to you. Good-natured as you were, you simply smiled at him, a little sadly.

“Too afraid, right at first,” You admitted, your eyes fluttering shut as he took care of you with the warm washcloth, “But when you came home you were a fucking wreck, Frankie. You lost your friend, Santi didn’t come back with you either, and Will and Benny had the same expression on their faces whenever I saw them. You saw some shit, did some shit, I don’t know and I’ll be real here, I don’t need you to ever feel like you should tell me what exactly happened. But after the first day you were back, I could see how much it changed you and I thought it would be selfish to tell you how I felt and add more emotional bullshit onto your plate.”

Frankie continued to kneel in front of you after tossing the washcloth into his laundry hamper. For a moment, the only sound in the room that of the tub filling. He stared into your eyes, seeing only how truthful you were being, how incredibly kind. He had never realized how completely he could love someone until he met you.

“I thought about you the entire time I was gone.” He admitted before carefully standing and checking the temperature of the water. He added a bath salt mixture that you’d bought a while ago, claiming it was a gift when really you were the one to use them, locking yourself away for hours to soak because you didn’t have a tub at your place. He shut the water off and held his arms out for you, which you eagerly stepped into and allowed him to guide you both into the water.

Once settled, your back against his chest, you replied. “Your face when you came home, I’ll never forget your expression.” His legs were on either side of you, and you began to lazily trace along his right thigh as both of you fell into your painful memories of his ill-fated trip.

Frankie sighed sadly, “I’m sorry I ever left, Sunshine. I never should have left you,” He tightened his grip around your waist under the water, one hand spread flat across your stomach, “It was just...fuck, everything went bad straight from the start. We had a moment of luck and then it was like nothing could go right. And I don’t know, I’m fucking gutted that Tom is gone, but it’s worse that Santiago won’t come home. He’s like my brother, and he blames himself for everything.”

Frankie knew you had no idea what he meant. You knew he and the guys were former special ops that served together, but when Santi had asked him to go to Columbia Frankie had only told you the basics-the country, who he would be with, that he might not have a lot of chances to call, and that it would be about a week. Santi had picked him up and you had been there to see him off that morning, and his friend had casually referenced a ‘boys trip’ while speaking with you as Frankie loaded his shit in the back.

Of course, you weren’t stupid. You worked with the VA, met a lot of former service members who ended up contracting out their skills after retiring or leaving due to injuries or lifestyle changes. And you knew Frankie, understood him like no one ever had before, which is why as he gave you further details you didn’t flinch or freeze up, you simply listened. When Frankie had gone quiet for a while, you eventually turned to gaze up at him over your shoulder, your cheek on his chest.

“From what I could tell,” You began slowly, your words cautious, “Whatever you did, what happened, you all put it aside to get Tom’s body home to his family. And considering the type of work Santi was doing out there for three years before he came here to ask you guys to join him, I figure you all must have almost died a few times each, probably took out some terrible men along the way.”

Frankie had to bite back his sob, turning his face away from you to stare, ashamed and remorseful at the wall. You reacted quickly, pulling yourself up and turning over, your naked body pressing over his as you grabbed Frankie’s head and gently turned him to look at you. “Baby,” You cooed, your eyes shining with concern, “Don’t do that, don’t hide from me.”

That was all it took. Frankie let the sob out and the relief of it was instantaneous, so much so that he let out another, then another, all while you held him and murmured soft, sweet words and pressing chaste kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, along his jaw. It didn’t last long, he’d cried so many times over everything that had gone down, but this was the first time you had revealed you sort of had an idea of what they had been up to, and you were still supporting him and loving him and it was all very overwhelming.

A short time later, Frankie wiped his eyes and shot you a grateful look, hoping you could sense how much he appreciated you. You settled into the water again, knees pulled to your chest as you faced him and trailed your hands comfortingly up and down his chest. “Sunshine,” He whispered, catching one hand and holding it against his heart, “I love you, thank you for being so fucking incredible.”

He tugged you closer, joining you in laughing when a little water sloshed up over the edge of the tub as you landed against him. You snuggled close and kissed him, your fingers carding into his curls and holding him steady. When Frankie took you to bed that night, there were no pillows between your bodies, not a shred of clothing separating you. He held you close, falling asleep faster than he had in years.

And for the first time in Frankie’s life, he felt whole and complete, like nothing could ever bring him into darkness again, not when he had you, literal sunshine, lighting his existence.

PART TWO

Permanent Taglist:

@mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711

[jedifarmerr]

She’s Just Not That Into You   (Marcus Pike x F!Reader)

Hello everyone!! This is my first try at fan fiction, so please give feedback! This is somewhat based on He’s Just Not That Into You, Alex and Gigi relationship (which I do not own). I have the whole story laid out, and should be around 8 to 10 chapters (if there is interest)

I do not own the mentalist or the picture above (so credit to them)

Summary: After a failed marriage, and the world’s shortest engagement, Marcus is starting to give up on love. One late night, Marcus stumbles into a diner, and meets a young waitress, with whom he develops an unlikely friendship with. 

Warnings: Food, eating, mentions of heartbreak, some sadness, sad!Marcus, no use of Y/N! (If any more let me know)

Rating: M (just to be safe) 18+

Chapter 1: Diner Girl

Seeing Lisbon again had been a punch to Marcus’s gut. He thought it would give him closure, that he would feel better after seeing her. Maybe he hoped she would change her mind once she saw him. That she would be reminded of what they had. Instead, he was hit with the realization that it was really over. She had moved on, and was happy with Jane. He was just a pit stop to her final destination, it was always going to be Jane for her. He needed to accept that. He needed to move on. He just wondered what could Jane offer her that he couldn’t? When would it be his turn to finally have someone? 

Since his return to D.C., he had been in a trance. His thoughts consumed him, stuck in his own self-loathing. Matthew’s voice breaks him from his thoughts reminding him of the meeting starting in a few minutes. He rubs his face,  needing to pull himself together, focus on his job, he’s the leader of this department he needs to get it together. He catches his reflection on the black screen of his laptop, he examines himself noting that his eyes are tired, dark circles underneath them, and his beard really needs a trim. Marcus closes his laptop abruptly, and heads for the conference room. He just hopes this meeting is short so he can head home. 

Marcus’s luck was never great, the meeting ran long, and he was starving. He missed the diners in Austin, missed his regular breakfast places. In between his office and his apartment, there were three breakfast places. He had tried two of them so far, and had been gravely disappointed by both of them. The only one left was Lucy’s Diner, and he was just hoping it was better than the last place. He was scared, and didn’t know if he could face more disappointment. How does a breakfast place mess up pancakes?

Marcus entered the diner, the small bell above the door ringing. The diner was empty, he was guessing since most people aren’t in the mood for pancakes this late at night. He hears a voice from the back telling him to sit wherever he wants. While walking towards the bar top he gazes around the room taking in his surroundings. The diner had fluorescent lights that gave a yellow tint to the dining room, the booths and seats were covered with a teal sparkly leather covering, and a jukebox was in the corner playing Elvis Pressley. Really had the classic diner look down he thought. 

Marcus sits down and opens the menu, when suddenly he is hit with a memory of him with Lisbon on their first date. They had gone to a diner that had the best banana pancakes. He could remember how happy he felt that day, how she laughed at all his jokes, how beautiful she looked in that red leather booth. He could remember going home that night with the biggest smile on his face, and a feeling that she was his future.  A voice breaks him from his thoughts,  painfully reminded that he is here alone. 

-------

You were annoyed at the sound of the small ding. You needed to study for your upcoming test, you had stretched yourself a bit thin this week. Taking extra hours at the diner to help pay for school. You check yourself in the mirror, making sure you look presentable before heading out the swinging door. Before even fully entering the dining room you start on your spiel “Welcome to Lucy’s Diner! What can I get you?” The customer jolts back a bit, startled from his own thoughts. The man’s eyes quickly dart around, lingering for a second on your name tag, then your face. He then looks down to the menu and states his order. Once he finishes, his eyes meet yours for just a few seconds, and you see that his brown eyes are glassy and have dark circles under them. He must be also having a pretty stressful week you think. You give him a quick smile before heading back to get his order in. You start a fresh pot of decaf coffee, unable to give him the stale shit that has been sitting there for hours. He looks like he has had a bad enough day. 

After a few minutes you return to the man with his decaf coffee, “Freshly brewed, sir. Would you like any cream or sugar?” He shakes his head and gives you a quick thank you, while taking a sip of his coffee. The man didn’t seem in the mood to chat, so you leave him alone to sulk in his own thoughts. Not wanting to be a nuisance to the man. 

When in the back room, you can’t help but peek through the little window in the door to spy on him. He looks so sad, so lost in his own mind, he looks like he can hardly hold himself together. He looks like a child lost in a supermarket, and for some reason you want to comfort him. You wonder what he is going through, was it just a bad day at work? Or was it more?  Lenny breaks you from your reverie, letting you know that the order is up. When you pick it up, Lenny gives you a side glance, “I thought you had a test to study for, but seems you got something a little bit more interesting to look at then those books.” You roll your eyes at him, and turn to leave, the kitchen now full of laughter as you walk away.��

Once you set the food down in front of the man, he immediately digs in. He eats like he hasn’t seen food in days, and you are honestly worried for this man’s health. You don’t want to disturb him, but you break his focus anyway to ask how it is tasting and if you can get him anything else. His mouth is full, and he meets your eyes fully for the second time that night. It seems as if the taste of the food has boosted his mood. He smiles, a real smile for the first time that night and his eyes are not as glassy, and you swear you see a glow to them. He lightly chuckles, before replying “This is fantastic. Could I get a little more coffee when you have the chance?” 

You smile at him and motion to the room, “Yeah, I mean we are so busy, but I think I can do that for you.” He lets out a little giggle, while you go to get the pot from the back. You return only a minute later, and find that his plate is almost empty. 

“Wow! You must have really enjoyed those pancakes!” You slap yourself internally for not being able to think of anything better to say to the man. 

“These are the best pancakes I have had in a while, I have tried the other places around here” he says with a smile, “And they are nothing compared to this.”

You return his sweet smile, “I will let Lenny know you enjoyed them! I am glad you liked it.” 

After that, you are met with a bit of awkward silence that you decide to break “So, are you from around here or just visiting?” 

----------

He was trying to chew as fast as he could, this is the second time you have asked him a question mid-chew tonight. “Just moved here a few months ago actually, from Texas. Haven’t been able to explore too much, the new job is keeping me pretty busy.” He meets your eyes, placing one elbow on the table, giving you a small smirk “Do you have any suggestions for a newbie?” 

Your face lights up as you give him a few food suggestions, some hidden gems, and a low down on the days to visit certain monuments and when to avoid them. You continue to converse about local tips, and after a few minutes he checks his watch

 “I didn’t realize how late it was getting. Can I get the check? I am sure you are ready to close down.” 

He senses that you are a bit disappointed with him leaving, guessing you must be bored with the lack of patrons in the establishment. You hand him the check in which he quickly pays, leaving a very generous tip. 

Before reaching the door he hears your voice shout out “Hope to see you again soon!” 

He turns while opening the door giving you a quick smile  “I will definitely be back.”  

[solastia]

Love And Lies | 2

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x F!Reader

Summary: You are a simple maid. When your lady and dearest friend need help escaping an arranged marriage with King Seokjin so they might be together, you do the only thing you can - take her place. 

A/N: Obviously their manner of speaking is somewhat modernized for easier reading. I don’t think you guys want a bunch of thys, thous, and such in your fanfics lmao. 

You and Eleanor had your heads poking out from the carriage window, ungracefully observing the landscape after a guard knocked to let you know your destination was near.

The castle that loomed before you was not just a castle. No, this was a palace. The sheer magnitude of presence this massive pile of stone gave off was intimidating. You could quite easily fit twenty of The Dukedom of Never’s keep across the land this spanned across, and Never’s was vast.

The land that surrounded it was magnificent on its own. Behind the castle was one of the grand seas, with a harbor large enough to contain the Royal Navy - a massive force that was rumored to be over a hundred ships and growing. In another direction was a large forest, one that according to Jungkook was teeming with wildlife and supposedly an evil witch. The fields surrounding the village seemed lush and plentiful and the people they passed appeared healthy and content. You were impressed by the obvious care that was put into the lands by the King.

Jungkook was riding alongside the carriage on his massive black charger, staring at the palace with as much awe as you.

“Do you think it takes him an entire hour to find a garderobe? Or did he just give up after a while and uses a chamber pot every time?” He asks thoughtfully, grinning down at you from atop his horse.

“Why is that your first thought?” You ask with a roll of your eyes.

“It’s a serious concern, sis! Say you just ate some pickled eel that doesn’t agree with your stomach. And the only room they have for such things is in the tallest tower on the other side of the palace…”

You snort, shaking your head at him. “I’m certain in a castle this vast there will be more than one garderobe, Sir Jungkook. I dare say there are perhaps several for every floor and wing. And no doubt the king has one all to himself near his chambers.”

He cocks his head thoughtfully, nodding after a few seconds. “True.”

A trio of guards stops your carriage right at the entrance to the long stone bridge leading to the palace grounds. Jungkook presents them with their scrolls of passage and the guard nods after looking over the seals.

“All clear, Sir. I’ll send word to His Majesty that you’ve arrived.”

Jungkook nods briskly at the guard and turns to the both of you with a wink. It was time to begin your charade.

The two of you bring your heads back inside the carriage in preparation for a more refined entrance once the carriage starts up again, the wheels clicking loudly across the stone leading to the inner bailey. It wouldn’t do to have the servant’s first impression of you to be gawking in wonder like the poor maid you actually were.

And that’s who you knew you would have the most difficulty trying to fool. The nobility had their head too far up their own arse most of the time and you weren’t as worried about trying to pass off your ruse on them. But the servants saw and knew all. Even with you dripping in jewels and rich fabrics you were worried one of them could tell at a glance you were no better than them.

You slide your hand across your gown nervously, picking at the costly fabric. You and Eleanor had spent most of your journey here adjusting each other’s gowns to fit. She was now clad in the finest one that you owned, a simple woolen dress in a blue that nearly matched her eyes, with a brown apron and cape. You were amused by how lovely she looked in such a simple garment as she sat across from you bouncing with excitement like a carefree dairymaid.

You were in a gown that no doubt cost more than you’d ever see in a lifetime. Dark crimson brocade embroidered with gold silk billowed around you like a stiff cloud. The sleeves were nothing more than a flowing golden lace, which also trimmed the scandalously low décolletage. Eleanor had even gone so far as to pile her best jewels on you and you were now glittering in gold and rubies that matched the gown. Broaches, rings, bracelets, even tiny pins placed strategically throughout the massive piles of curls on top of your head. The centerpiece of it all seemed to be the gold-chained necklace from which hung a ruby nearly the size of an egg that settled on the very top of your overly-exposed chest.

She’d even dabbed some of her cosmetics on your face. Your lips and cheeks were pinkened with rose paste and a touch of kohl was rimmed on your eyes. You’d absolutely refused to put the horrid white paste on your face that was becoming popular in some circles of noblewomen.

So, you certainly looked the part of a pampered daughter of a Duke. Your insides were still a mess of jumbled nerves and fear.

Eleanor’s hand lands on your shaking knee, her eyes soft with compassion.

“Are you that nervous?”

“Are you not?”

She sighs quietly, squeezing your knee before bringing her hand back to her lap.

“I am, of course. But I have you and Jungkook watching out for us, so I’m not frightened as I should be, perhaps. I’m more worried about you. So many things could happen and I can’t do anything if I’m supposed to be a servant. What if some nobleman drags you into a dark alcove, or someone tries to poison your meal to eliminate a rival in the bid for being Queen, or...heavens, what if the King falls in love with you?”

You guffaw at that, shaking your head. “There is little chance of that happening, My Lady.”

She huffs, waving her hand dramatically. “I’m not ‘My Lady’, remember. I’m just Ellie. You can’t mess that up. And anyway, you haven’t seen yourself from my seat. You are absolutely stunning. You look like you’re a Queen already and that man is going to take one look at you and beg you to be his.”

“There’s going to be other ladies here, you said?” You ask quickly, changing the subject with your cheeks blazing with embarrassment. As if a King would find you worth a look. No doubt His Majesty had a veritable army of mistresses at his disposal.

She nods distractedly, head turned to people-watch as they entered the busy courtyard. “Even though I was mad at him, I listened when Papa told me what to expect at court. The King’s council declared it was time for him to find a wife. They summoned five ladies in total - three Duke’s daughters, an Earl’s Daughter, and supposedly a Princess from some far off exotic land. Naturally, the Princess is the one the council is trying to push at his Majesty the most, but so far he’s shown no preference for anyone in particular. Papa was only able to suggest putting me in the running because he and His Majesty’s father were good friends. The only reason he didn’t come along with us is because he’s busy with...something about irrigation. I lost interest after that.”

You hum as you digest what she’s telling you. What it sounds like to you is that the King will have to try to stretch his no doubt incredibly busy schedule to accommodate entertaining five different women, most of whom were probably spoiled and not used to having to share anyone’s affections. It shouldn’t be too hard to simply fade into the background and let the other four battle over the King’s attention. With any luck, he’d eventually forget you were even there and you’d be able to escape without issue once Jungkook received the deed to his keep.

The carriage rattles to a stop and your breath hitches nervously. You gulp, the contents in your stomach from breaking your fast that morn lurching dangerously. Eleanor clasps your hand and squeezes.

“Remember that we have Jungkook on our side. He won’t let anything happen to us.”

You nod shakily and exhale deeply. A hand turns the carriage door handle and you stiffen, trying to recall all the lessons in deportment that you’d been forced to attend with Eleanor over the years. Be mindful of your posture, don’t breathe loudly, don’t fidget, keep your head high, and your eyes low. You could do this.

Eleanor leaves first with the help of Jungkook, as he grasps her hand to help her down the carriage steps. Once she is safely lowered and waiting patiently off to the side, he reaches in for you.

“You look magnificent and I have no doubt that you will do well. I’ll be right at your side,” he whispers as he gently holds your fingers to help you gracefully exit the carriage.

You nod and send him a grateful smile before letting your face fall into a façade of polite interest as you look upon the gathered party for the first time.

The appearance of a few councilmembers and a handful of servants to assist with luggage and escort you through the palace was expected. The tall figure standing in the middle, resplendent in crimson and gold attire that mirrored your own was not.

The King himself had come down to greet your arrival.

You eyed him in pleasant surprise as Jungkook escorted you towards him. You knew that he was a fairly young King, but this man was at the very peak of health and good looks. His hair was a dark ebony, although the sun shining on him seemed to bring out flecks of brown. It was surprisingly shorn short, but it seemed to flatter him. And his face...you weren’t the poetic sort, but he seemed to have a face that would belong to an angel. Thick lips and big soulful brown eyes all set in a face of flawless skin. He looked to be nearly as tall as Jungkook, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist atop incredibly long legs.

He was dressed in what you guessed was his courtwear - a crimson tunic over dyed leather breeches, and tall leather boots. Gold accents glittered from his shoulders and waist, with gold embroidery coloring the edges of his tunic and emblazoned over his chest in the form a wolf. His crown was surprisingly simple, as you’d always imagined some huge thing the size of a melon with a mismatched decoration of every jewel they could grab. The one atop his head was a simple golden band inlaid with rubies and diamonds. Perhaps he saved the other one for more important affairs.

His warm brown eyes appeared to widen as you came forth, his mouth dropping open slightly as he seemed to stare at your face.

Was he that horrified by what he saw?

You release Jungkook’s hand after one last comforting squeeze and drop low into a formal curtsy, keeping your eyes on the ground.

“Thank you for inviting me, your Majesty. I am Lady Eleanor Rose D’Aily, the daughter of the Duke Of Nevers,” you say softly, realizing as the words leave your mouth that you’ve just sealed whatever becomes of your fate.

A hand quickly reaches down and grasps yours to help you up, and you glance up to meet the King’s gaze. He still appears a little surprised - about what you didn’t know - but his lips turn in a welcoming smile. You’re surprised to notice the little lines outside his lips and eyes, like he smiles quite often. He also hasn’t released your hand yet, and you note that it’s soft and a little damp, like yours get when you’re nervous. But whoever heard of a nervous King?

“It’s a pleasure to have you, My Lady. We are so glad you’ve made the journey safely. We have made arrangements to have you placed in the apartments in the west wing, nearest my own. When your parents used to frequent court here, that’s where they always stayed. We thought it would be nice to continue the tradition.”

“I thank you, Your Majesty,” you respond quietly, distracted by the way the sun hit his eyes. At first glance they appeared brown, but the way that the sun reflected on them made them appear almost amber. How beautiful.

“Yes, I...err,” he began, and you noticed the way his eyes roamed all over your face, quickly down to your lace-trimmed décolletage, and back up with a blossom of color on his cheeks. “I have some meetings to attend now, but I have some time before supper so we might become better acquainted. Perhaps in the library? My Chancellor, Namjoon, will come for you when I’m free. In the meantime, please make yourself comfortable and ask for anything you might need. My Kingdom is at your disposal,” he says earnestly, with a charming grin.

You are overwhelmed by just how genuinely kind and anxious to please he seems to be. You’d thought for certain the most you would receive was a single servant and perhaps a note to tell you when you were required to show yourself. Instead, he stood before you with his hand still gripping yours, seeming to be genuinely apologetic that he couldn’t speak with you sooner.

And he smelled wonderful, like cedar and clove…

The man next to him cleared his throat meaningfully, causing King Seokjin to jump slightly. He released your hand and bowed shallowly.

“Until later, My Lady.”

You curtsied in return, watching as he turned and strode up the stone steps, whispering furiously with the man next to him.

Behind you Jungkook and Eleanor share a look, nervously observing as you follow the King’s retreat with your eyes and release a heartfelt sigh that both of them were intimately familiar with.

“Oh dear,” Eleanor gasps quietly.

[dean-winchesters-gardian-angel]

The Same bed - Chapter 4

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Friends are there to help each other out, but can they help falling for each other when all the long days they spend together turn into late nights they have and their reliance on each other.

Word count: 2544

Warnings: Fluff, angst, description of blood and injuries, nightmares, slow burn.

A/N: Chapter 4! Off we go. Read it enjoy and I’ll see you on the other side. There’s also a tag list, so be sure to tell me if you want in, as well as a masterlist so be sure to check it out. As are the latests, Unbeta’d all mistakes are mine.

Series masterlist 

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Dean didn't sleep that night, too busy cursing himself for hurting Y/N and simultaneously afraid he may have a nightmare. He had gotten up several times with the intention of going to her room and seeking forgiveness if she'd give it to him, though he wouldn't blame her if she refused. Instead, he'd pace around his room or make it as far as her door before heading to the bathroom to wash his face rather than knocking.

The next night Dean had been too exhausted to stay awake, now accustomed to getting around 8 hours he passed out some time just after 2 in the morning while everyone else slept soundly. Dean managed to get just over an hour of shut-eye before waking up to one of his worst nightmares. He jolted up with a scream though quickly cut himself off as to not wake anyone. Nevertheless, he was half a scream too late as Y/N sat up in her own bed wanting to go check on him but refused due to her own stubbornness.

Dean mumbled a 'son of bitch' before getting up and making his way to the kitchen to get started on some coffee. Dean was given about 2 hours to contemplate his idiocy towards Y/N before his brother found his way to the kitchen.

"Dean?"

"Huh? Hey, morning."

"Man, you look like trash."

"Oh, thanks you're not so bad yourself in the shorts." Sam looked to his running shorts before rolling his eyes.

"You always did give me a hard time for wanting to stay in shape."

"Hunting keeps you in shape, not some little jaunt you do every morning. Hey, speaking of, have you found any new cases seems like forever since we've killed a deserving asshat."

"I've been talking to Jody and Donna, they've got a lead on a vamp nest, said they're heading out in two days and we're more than welcome to tag along."

"So, tomorrow. What time."

"They wanted to hit it just after sundown. So, we would leave tomorrow morning if you're interested."

"Oh, I'm interested, give me some' to kill."

"Dean are you sure you're okay. You usually become self-destructive when you've got something going on, something you need to talk about."

"I'm fine, Sammy."

"I'd mention that Y/N isn't sleeping in your room anymore, but I think that'd just make you mad considering that's probably what's bothering you."

"So much for not mentioning it." Dean swallowed what was left in his coffee cup before washing it and setting it in the dry rack. He made his way back to his room hoping his brother would take the hint and leave for his run, which he did. Once he heard the bunker door shut Dean went back to the kitchen to have another cup of coffee. As he sat down the sound of footsteps padding down the hall alerting him that Y/N had awoken. Dean straightened his posture as she entered the kitchen making her way to the cabinet to fish out a mug without making eye contact.

"Morning Y/N."

"Oh my god! It speaks." She filled her mug before walking out having not looked him in the eyes once. Dean rested his chin in his palm kicking himself for having hurt her. After a deep sigh, he dragged his palm over his face closing his eyes momentarily allowing them some rest from the lights of the bunker. Dean strolled his way to Y/N's room and knocked on her door. He heard her sniffle some before the door swung open, Y/N standing in front of him, eyebrows raised clearly on her last nerve.

"I just wanted to let you know we've got a case tomorrow, with Jody and Donna, we've got to leave early-ish so, you know, you might want to pack today so you're not rushing. Anyway, just keeping you in the loop." Y/N looked at her best friend whose eyes were tired, red, and glossy, staring at the ground in front of him. She missed him, but she didn't know why he was angry at her.

"Thanks." She turned away from him intent on closing her door to block the view of the broken man she so deeply cared about and wanted to help, and he spoke.

"Y/N."

"Yeah?" Dean swallowed trying to think of what he wanted to say to her but came up with nothing. There wasn't anything specific he wanted to tell her in that moment he just wanted to be with her. In the same room sitting next to her, looking at her. He wanted to spend time with his best friend whom he had been missing lately but if there was one person more stubborn than Y/N it was Dean.

"Nothing...nothing." With a sad smile and a sigh, Dean walked to his own room with the aim of avoiding her, once again, all day.

Dean listens as Y/N played her music in her room and smiled when the Grease love song came though it wasn't given a chance to finish before Y/N skipped it. He could hear his brother and Y/N talking in the library during the day occasionally finding something funny as they giggled in unison. He missed having her, missed being the one laughing with her, or even just talking with her.

Nearing the end of the day, Dean made his way out of his room for the first time that to grab a snack before trying his hand at some forty winks, wanting to be rested up before their hunt tomorrow. The energy of the room sizzled to nothing as he entered the kitchen. Sammy and Y/N were sitting next to each other looking at pictures of haircuts on the internet.

"Seriously Sam, I've been cutting my own hair my whole life. Just let me add a little shape to it. A little trim here and there I can make you look like the handsome devil you really are."

"I'm not letting you cut my hair. I don't trust you not to just cut it all off. Besides, I don't—" Both their eyes looked up to Dean as he stood in the doorway observing their interaction. Once he noticed their gaze he moved to the counter, pulling a bowl from the cupboard and reaching for the box of cereal.

"Sam and I made pasta if you're hungry for real food." Dean looked over the noodles as his tummy growled, licking his lips.

"Dean, just have some, we're not gonna finish it. It'll just end up going to waste." He hesitantly looked over his shoulder forcing a smile to Y/N who had the smallest one of her on her face. She watched him as he traded his bowl for a plate. Dean plated himself some of the homemade food before Y/N gestured at the spot in front of herself and Sam along with the parmesan on the table. Dean took a seat not wanting to be impolite more so than he'd already been.

"Anyway, I'm trying to convince Sam to let me trim his hair."

"You're not touching my hair with a ten-foot pole."

"Oh, come on Sam it grows back. You'll see, it'll look really good and you won't even want to grow it back. Won't be in your eyes anymore, won't distract you during hunts, monsters won't be able to grab at it. You know I make a good case."

"Sure. But you're still not cutting my hair." Meanwhile, Dean was silently moaning at the flavours on his plate. Y/N watched as the eldest closed his eyes savouring the taste, before he spoke, displaying his voice to them for the first time since the early morning.

"This is kind of amazing. I don't think I've ever had spaghetti this amazing. What jar did you guys use?" Referring to the sauce that had his taste buds dancing on his tongue.

"Actually, Y/N made the sauce."

"My mum used to make these gigantic pots of spaghetti sauce and freeze it so we could have it whenever we want. I was missing it, so I made some from memory. It's not hers but I think it turned out alright. I know I missed something, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was." Dean looked up, his mouth full, to the women speaking, no longer focusing on him rather in her head desperately searching for the missing ingredient, as he swallowed.

"You made the sauce? From scratch?"

"Uh-huh. Yeah, I mean it's not really that hard just time consuming, you have to let it simmer for a little bit, but I think it's worth it. Once in a while at least."

"You mind if I have more?"

"Go right ahead. Sam and I both already had seconds." Dean finished what was left and helped himself to more before moving back to his spot at the table.

"Sam promised to make me the 'Winchester Surprise' one day? Said you used to make it for him." Sam looked to his brother who reminisced, thinking back to the worst meals he had prepared for his baby brother.

"It was terrible. Sam that's — to repay her for this. Seriously Y/N you won't want to eat anything we make for the rest of your life. It was god awful."

"As much as I believe you because I do, by the description, Sam gave me, oh boy, I'll still be the judge of that." Dean chuckled at her retort missing her effortless comebacks and modesty when it came to the things she was good at, though he found it frustrating when she didn't accept the compliment he'd give her. He wanted her to brag about how many Djinns she could kill in a week, or in this case how good the sauce was instead of saying it wasn't perfect, so he'd done it for her, telling his brother when she would do something 'awesome', as he'd put it, that made him feel proud to call himself her friend. The guilt he felt was sudden and overwhelming. Even after he'd gone days without speaking to her, after pushing her away so abruptly, she was still offering him dinner, the conversation, the casual smile, the eye contact. How he longed for her eye contact. She had always been able to communicate with him with her eyes. He craved her gaze, how her orbs would sparkle when she was happy or grow dark when hooded with anger. But the thing he loved the most about her eyes was the fact that when they looked into his, it was like nothing else mattered. He could see he had her attention, and he wouldn't want to look away.

"I'm—ehem— I'm heading to bed, didn't sleep well last night, gonna try to rest up before our hunt tomorrow." Dean looked to Y/N who had a saddened look on her face, clearly angry and confused as to why Dean wouldn't let her help him. When he noticed the look on her face, he realized his words and quickly made up an excuse for why he couldn't sleep hoping to ease Y/Ns mind indirectly.

"Maybe it was a full moon, could never sleep well during a full moon."

"Full moon was last week Dean." Y/N answered him with an unreadable expression along with it. He didn't respond in an effort to save what dignity he had left. He forced a smile in Y/Ns direction as he passed by, once he'd finished cleaning his dishes.

"You mind telling me what's going on between the two of you Y/N?"

"Honestly Sam I haven't got the slightest."

"I know you two were sharing a bed... was that like—"

"If you're suggesting that we were a thing then no. He slept better when there was someone in the room with him, so I was that someone. Then out of the blue, he got distant and said he didn't need me anymore so." She shrugged not sure how to further explain their recent exchanges. "I know he's not through with the nightmares though because I heard his screams last night. I didn't check on him 'cause I was angry at him saying they were done, and he didn't need me anymore, but it was petty. I wanted him to stew in his nightmare, remember how bad they were before I told him I'd stay. I just don't understand him, I didn't do anything to warrant his actions. I haven't bothered asking why he's mad at me and even if I did, he'd just ignore me some more so what's the point. He's being a child. He's acting like I killed his brother when really all I'm trying to do is cut his hair." Her joke succeeded in lightening the mood as Sam chuckled moving to the sink to clean off his plate.

"You're a good influence on him, you know?"

"Why's that."

"Well for starters, he washed his plate."

"Oh yeah, I yelled at him this one time for leaving a mess, which I'm pretty sure was actually mine from the night before, but he hasn't left dirty dishes since so I guess it all worked out." Sam outright laughed at that before excusing himself to prepare for bedtime.

By the time 8 o'clock rolled around the bunker was silent, everyone in their respective bedrooms reading or watching a little telly before getting some rest. Due to the lack of sleep the nights prior and the upcoming hunt, Dean closed his eyes tight willing the nightmares away as he gripped his sheets. It didn't take him long to doze off though and it didn't last long before he was startled awake by Y/Ns voice. "Dean! Wake up!" She looked terrified, holding Dean down by his shoulders. "You idiot. Get up."

"Y/N? Why? What's—" She dragged him out of bed to the bathroom.

"Look at your hand Dean." She could hear the anger in her voice frustrated with him for refusing her help. The help they both knew would work. Dean looked down at the palm she hadn't grasped as she marched him down the hall like a child in trouble. It was bleeding, trailing down his fingers, shards of dark glass still imbedded in the tender skin of his palm.

"How did—" It came out as a whisper, laced with sleep as he did his best to orientate himself. Y/N turned on the light in the bathroom before forcibly sitting him on the lid of the toilet.

"You must have grabbed the beer bottle on your nightstand in your sleep." Y/N had pulled out the first aid kit they had stored under the sink along with a pair of tweezers, kneeling in front of the older Winchester.

"Y/N you don't have to—"

"I swear Dean if you tell me you don't need my help one more time I swear," she looked up from his palm to glare at him, "I’m going to tie you down until you get past... what ever this is." She didn't break eye contact with him until he nodded, shamefully looking down at the injury he only now started to feel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5 ~~ Out now!

Tag List: @akshi8278​ @bargedog @just-someone-difficult​ @mila-dans​ @valhallavxlkyrie​

Series Tags: @autobotgirl15-blog​ @classyunknownlover​ @laycblack​ @lovememisha​ @music-is-all-i-need​ @redbarn1995​ @wellfuckmyexistence​

[quietmyfearswith]

perfect fit {ransom drysdale x fem!reader}

perfect fit {ransom drysdale x fem!reader} 

status — completed 

warnings — cursing, unprotected penetrative sex (pls be safe when havinf sex), mirror sex, semi-public sex, degradation (slight), oral sex (female receiving), mentions of blood and being poked (briefly and not detailed)

word count — 3,370 words

a/n — lmao i have no shame i got inspired to write this because of an something i listened to which had a similar premise. i had a sequel in mind but idk if im gonna write that since i have a lot of fics planned out. feedback is appreciated and hope u guys have a lovely day !! :> 

masterlist

It was something no one expected Ransom to do; but he did it anyway.

He was just lounging in his home one day and he took one of the many notebooks he had lying around and suddenly found himself sketching different clothing articles. By the time he was able to tear his focus and hands away from the notebook, it was already 11:45 at night, “Huh, so in the past five hours I was able to design 11 clothes,” he quietly thought to himself as he closed the notebook that contained his ideas and headed to bed.

The following day consisted mostly of doing two things; more designing and making calls. He was looking for possible suppliers who could give him the materials he needed in order to bring his designs to life. He also ordered his assistant to look for tailors who were willing to sew and stitch them to life, as he did not have any intentions on making those himself. Searching for a place to lease to station where the clothes would be made and sold was also something he did.

All of that happened almost 19 months ago; Ransom just suddenly had the idea of creating his own clothing line and he was successful in that endeavor. His brand was known for its eloquent and classy designs, while still being comfortable and affordable. It was also a bonus that the materials they used were cruelty-free and vegan; though this wasn’t really his idea, something his assistant had suggested and something he mindlessly agreed with as he was burying himself in designing a dress.

When his family found out about his current endeavor, there were various reactions in response. Joni seemed to be legitimately excited to see if Ransom’s design would match her taste and even told him how she was willing to post about his line on her Instagram. Meg and Walt finally had something in common as they both teased him and questioned his sexuality since he suddenly became interested in fashion; even his own father silently had the same thoughts and concerns. His mother, however, was somewhat proud of her son following in her footsteps and making a name for himself. While Harlan was surprised on how he was persistent in pursuing fashion, for he always thought that his first grandson would be his successor in terms of writing and in handling the publishing company.

Ransom, having had enough of their judgmental comments and half-assed support, snapped at them once he broke the news as they were enjoying dessert, “Alright, all of you, eat shit! No offense, Mom, but you had a loan from Granddad and without his money you’d be nowhere! Joni, cut the shit! We all know you rely on those brand deals you have and of course, on our family’s money. And Walt? At least I’m gonna make something of my own! Unlike you who just relies heavily on the books Granddad gives you to publish. And what the fuck does fashion have to do with one’s sexuality? If clothes make people gay then why are you wearing that sorry excuse of an outfit? Scared people might find your dick too small?” 

And with that, he left the house as a sea of screams and commotion followed him, but he chose to ignore it of course.

In the span of those 19 months, his clothing line took off. Critics spoke highly of it, consumers couldn't get enough of his designs, and he was being constantly praised for his creativity. So it made Ransom feel as if he was on top of the world.

After his designs being featured on various fashion shows and being worn by numerous celebrities, the pressure to put out equally great designs was taking a toll on Ransom. Hence why he often spends time on the main store and headquarters he had in Boston. The place was fairly spacious — it had an office for where he could have meetings or design some of his clothes, a spacious and luxurious space for the customers to try on the clothes, rows of sewing machine next to an array of cloth for the workers whom he fairly compensated for their hard work, and even a small circular platform placed in front of mirrors for alterations. 

Ransom advised his staff to go home early to enjoy the start of the weekend and he would be the one to close the store and balance what they had already sold and what was left. As he was busy in the counter checking the log and counting the money, he heard the chimes of the bell that hung above the door make a sound, directing his attention to where a lovely woman stepped into the store and it felt as if all the oxygen in his body left his body with how breathtaking the woman was.

“We’re about to close in a few minutes,” was all he managed to let out as the woman stood on the opposite side of the counter; she just smiled as she placed the gown wrapped in plastic down on the counter, “Oh? I’m so sorry but I was just wondering if I can have this gown altered? I bought it hastily last week and only got to try it on two days ago since I was incredibly busy with work and realized how loose it was on me.”

He looked down on the gown as he spoke, “Yeah well we close earlier on Fridays so,” prolonging the word so, he noticed how she moved as if she was about to exit the establishment, but he wondered, “What is the work you do that kept you busy?”

The question surprised both of them; Ransom didn’t know as to why he was curious about it, but it probably had to do with how he just wanted an excuse to talk to her and listen to her soothing voice. While Y/N didn’t realize that those were one of the requirements in order to have a dress altered, she told him anyway what kept her busy.

Nodding his head, he made an impulsive decision, “My assistants just left, but I can take care of it. It shouldn’t be a big problem” Her eyes lit up excitedly and she smiled widely and thanked him for being able to accommodate her. “Just go to one of the dressing rooms and change to the gown, and head to where the platform is — just right across, okay?” She nodded and followed to where his hands pointed to where he’d be waiting for her.

As she scurried off to the change, he found himself questioning himself as he switched off the open sign, grabbed a notebook, pen, and measuring tape, and waited for her to come out. Why the hell am I making such an effort for her? And when she did step out of the dressing room and made her way to step on the circular elevated platform, he remembered just why he was going out of his way to serve her; because she looked fucking gorgeous, especially seeing her wear a gown he designed.

Standing on the platform, she shyly looked at him to which he found adorable, “Why don’t you spin around slowly for me?” She nodded and did so, “What seems to be the problem with the gown?”

With her back facing him, she craned her neck and replied, “I found the length to be too long, I’m afraid I might trip on it,” as she faced him he noticed how he was standing dangerously close, and his facial features were dead serious, “So you just want to trim it a bit?”

She nodded, “Would it be possible to create a slit?” And just as she made that suggestion, she bunched up a bit of the gown and showed him how she wanted the slit to look like; but all it did to Ransom was make him drool with how luscious and soft her legs looked like. “Okay, yeah that’s something we can do.” 

Grabbing a small container full of sewing pins he took hold of the bunched up fabric she held in her hand and told her he got it. “You know when I designed these gowns, you were exactly the target buyers I had in mind,” she tilted her to the side, confused with what he meant so he further explained, “Gorgeous, elegant, and absolutely stunning; especially once they wear my clothes.”

Her cheeks suddenly became a dark shade of red as she tried to shrug off his compliment, “Well I don’t really wear these kinds of clothes, but when a wedding comes, you have to.” As he was placing the pins on the fabrics, he looked up from where he was sitting on the platform, him being eye level with her thigh was doing nothing to prevent him from nursing a hard on, “A wedding you say?” 

Snatching a glance from where her hands rested on her hips to get out of his way, he took note of the lack of ring and voiced out his observation, “I’m not seeing any ring on both your hands, so I’m gonna assume that you’re not the bride?” She laughed softly and shook her head, “No, I'm not the bride-to-be, my best friend is.”

“Good to know,” Ransom said softly and she didn’t hear it well and was about to question what he just said as she felt the sewing pins poke her skin. “Ow, fuck!” She yelped, which made the designer realize that instead of piercing through the dress, he accidently lightly grazed her leg. “Fuck, I’m sorry!” He apologized as he pulled the pin and wiped her upper thigh that started to bleed a little. 

Feeling his warm hand envelope her hand and the thumb swiping away the crimson liquid, made her feel tingly as she looked down on him. Inching his face closer to her thigh, he looked up at her as his lips touched the area that he unintentionally hurt her in, “I’m so sorry for hurting you,” Y/N was stunned as his lips were back on her thigh after apologizing. 

Breathlessly, she just nodded and was surprised both his hands took a hold of her ankles and were softly caressing her just like how his lips were being gentle with her flesh. As his hands were sliding up towards her shins, she could feel the goosebumps on her skin rise, and by the time they reached her thighs, that was the only time Ransom detached his lips from her skin, “You taste divine, baby girl. But I’m not done with making it up to you.”

Having a sudden surge of confidence, Y/N spoke out, “Then keep kissing me if you want to make it up to me.” Ransom too, was surprised because this meek-looking beauty demanded him to do something, “I beg your pardon?” It was her turn to be brave and brazen as she smirked down on him, “Keep on kissing my thighs or else I’ll leave a bad review of your services.”

Quickly, Ransom placed his lips back on her thigh, kissing and smooching every inch he could find; he wasn’t sure if he was threatened with how his business could be negatively affected or was he just turned out at the prospect of being told by this beautiful woman to keep on admiring her figure.

Tangling her fingers on his hair, she tugged at him and guided her where she wanted his mouth as he gave verbal directions, “Higher, baby, kiss me higher.” Though his eyes were darkened with pleasure of having to know what her skin tastes like and aroused with how he met someone who was able to tell her what she wants and bosses him around; he’s never had someone do that to him, for it was always him calling the shots.

Poking his tongue out, he traced over the outline of her lace underwear which resulted in her letting out a moan and tightening her grip on his hair — urging him to keep going. Moving from her thigh, he kissed his way until he was face to face with the center of her pussy. Inhaling her scent, he closed his eyes as he groaned and took in her addictive scent and lunged forward to kiss and lick her clothed core. Even with the fabric in its way, he was nipping on her pussy lips and licking through it, getting a faint taste of her.

“Oh, more please,” she gasped out in pleasure; and with that plea Ransom moaned as he tore his mouth from where he was making out with her clit and smirked as she heard her sigh at the sudden loss of contact. Looking up at her, he gave her a grin as he asked, “Did you honestly think you would be the one who’ll call all the shots, baby?”

Somehow, her crimson red cheeks managed to turn into an even deeper shade of it at what he said. He then moved to pull her panties down her legs, he didn’t even wait for her to kick them out of her as he immediately licked from her clit down to her opening. Moaning out, she trembled a bit and Ransom’s hands latched themselves onto her thighs to help prevent her from falling.

“Careful now baby girl,” he warned her as he looked up to see her flushed face starting to drip with sweat, his lips never fully removing themselves from her clit so with every word he spoke the vibrations was felt throughout her core, “Wouldn’t want you to injure yourself. How are you gonna turn up to the wedding then?” 

As he finished his question, his tongue pushed itself into her tight opening and swirled around inside. Feeling dainty fingers push his face further, he was able to get a better taste of her juices that began to drip down to his tongue and he hissed at how delectable they were. Pulling out his tongue from her pussy, he immediately licked his way up to her swollen clit, “You taste amazing, baby,” he moaned out as he focused his efforts into sucking her clit hard and fast, feeling her thighs began to shake — a sign that she was close to her orgasm.

But Ransom wouldn’t let her cum right away, his left hand left the warmth of her thigh and slapped her clit multiple times, she opened her eyes in shock and looked down on the designer, aroused and elated with what he did. Getting the hint that she enjoyed what he did he teased her by saying, “You like it when I slap that clit?” Seeing how she nodded and bit her lip, he went on and slapped her clit multiple times but with not a lot of force, and his tongue went on to caress her tight opening until she once again began to quiver. 

“God you’re such a filthy slut,” he stated as he stopped the movements his tongue and hand were doing, and went on to bite lightly her thigh, “I’m gonna have so much fun with you. Have to make sure my customer leaves this place satisfied with my services.” As he mentioned the double entendre, his voice was laced with desire and hunger.

Giving her thigh one last kiss, he stood up from the platform and placed his hands on her hips and lifted her so she stood on the ground just like he was. Grabbing the back of her neck, he pushed her against him so their lips met and they began to hungrily make out. Her hands were at his cheeks, softly grazing his cheeks which contradicts how their tongues were roughly dancing with each other. While Ransom’s other hand was feeling for the zipper on her back, unzipping it and pushing the dress off of her.

Moving both his hands to touch her back, he noticed the lack of bra and felt how her nipples harden against the fabric of his shirt, he separated their lips from where they were entangled and looked down to see her breasts, “Such a nasty little girl you are, aren’t you? Wearing this gown with no bra underneath, like you wanted me to see just how good your boobs are.”

She shook her head, “The gown goes well best without a bra,” she defended. Amused with her reply Ransom decided that they’ve had enough foreplay; both his hands planted on her hips and pulled her back so it was flush against his front, “And you know what would go best with your divine body? My cock and cum,” one of his hands grabbed onto his cock and rubbed the tip of it against her folds, feeling her shudder at the sensation, “So come on and take it.”

“Shit baby girl, you’re so tight for a slut,” Ransom groaned as he threw his head back with how her walls squeezed his hard dick in one smooth motion. The hand that guided his cock in repositioned itself and held onto her hair, pulling her head back and arching her back away from his chest, which contrasted the way her ass was pushing back to accommodate Ransom’s cock.

Hand in her hair and the other on her hip, Ransom was pulling her into his cock with sharp, fast, and harsh thrusts; while her moans and whines did nothing but to fuel him to drive his thick meat deeper in her. “You like this don’t you, baby? You like how I’m just ramming into you like you’re nothing but a whore?” He taunted as he let go of her hip and began to rub, twist, and pull at her nipples.

Y/N could only nod, too blissed out to give out a verbal response for the way he was deliciously torturing her nipples disabled her from forming a coherent sentence, much less a thought. Unhappy with how she responded, he let go of her hair and slapped both her ass cheeks, “Answer me! Tell me you like it!”

She went still for a moment due to the sting of his slaps, she widened her eyes and peered over her shoulder to look at him, “I love it! I love how you’re treating me, sir.” The title she had given him made him even more feral as he ordered her, “Look in the mirror slut, look at how desperate you are for me.”

Feeling shy from seeing her blissed out state on the reflection, she instead diverted her gaze on the man behind her who was mercilessly pounding into her. She found it absolutely hot how his jaw was clenched so hard and his eyebrows were furrowed; it made her clench down on him hard which led to Ransom to slam deep inside her and grab onto her shoulders, “You’re close aren’t you, baby? You’re about to cum on my cock aren’t you?” She nodded and whined, “Yes, sir, I’m so close. Please let me cum,” he chuckled in appreciation, she begged him to cum without even telling her to do so. 

Speeding up the pace of his thrusts, his one hand was now alternating with rubbing and pinching her clit, in order to get her right on the edge. His lips were resting against her ear, his pants were only turning her on even more and with a final pinch of his fingers, she was cumming hard and with a loud wail.

Feeling how her walls squeezed him too tight to the point he couldn’t move anymore, Ransom stilled inside her and wrapped his arms around her stomach, “Fuck, you feel good.” After a couple of breaths, Ransom collapsed to sit down on the platform, taking her with him. Sitting down, he took the time to steady his breaths and recover from the intensity of their intercourse and orgasm. 

Snaking his hand to her cheek, he tilted her head enough for him to plant his lips on hers and let her give a faint taste of her own juices and he pulled apart from her not without planting a small kiss, “The gown will be ready in a week, baby. And it’s on me.”

[softowlhours]

by the lakeside

bokuto koutarou(horror!AU)

it should’ve been the perfect summer getaway. you were both in need of some down time away from your busy careers. but things get a little eerie when there’s a voice in your head that isn’t yours and you find out that you’re not alone in that pristine white house on the hill.

genre: horror, angst, fluff if you squint

tw: descriptions of drowning, asphyxiation, strangulation. suggestive sexual situations.

a/n: i promise i’ll proofread this later and also write an epilogue but until then please enjoy this story it took me way longer than necessary to write. i’ve read it so many times that i don’t find it scary anymore. but i hope you do! :)

word count: 6k

my body feels like an empty shell sometimes, a carcass I am dragging around. when I look into the mirror I don’t recognise myself. i don’t recognise him, either.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

bokuto’s hair gleams silver in the glorious morning light. wind blows through your own strands as you zip past the lush green meadows. you could see the sheep dotted on the grassy planes like puffs of pure white clouds. far away, there stood giant mountains. their high peaks looked like they were breaching the baby blue ceiling of the sky. you only notice your gorgeous surroundings with half a mind, because your eyes keep trailing back to the man besides you. you admire his profile, the sharp slope of his nose, the chiselled cheek bones and jaw line. you zero in on the plush of his lips and it is then that you notice his teasing grin.

‘admiring the view?’ he asks.

‘mhmm. a sight for my sore eyes.’ and he truly is. your gaze drops a little lower. his toned chest peeks from where the buttons of his shirt have come undone. his biceps flex and strain against the fabric as he manoeuvres the steering wheel. he looks like a movie star, straight out of the golden age of film. the red vintage convertible he drives only adds on to your day dream. you can’t help but feel like a heroine starring in your own block buster romance. heat rises to the tip of his ears and the back of his neck at your shameless appraisal. bokuto notices the way lust is barely concealed on your face. he fucking loved the way you looked at him, like he was the guiding star you were always attuned to. the one for whom you’d always search for in an endless night sky.

‘your eyes are sore from staring at your computer screen all day everyday.’ he  ignores your attempts at flirting,  and instead addresses what has been eating away at his mind lately. he’s been worried about you. you often called him out for pushing himself to the point of breaking when it came to volleyball. but, you never noticed how you were inclined to do the same when it came to you own work; buried under papers and ink, day after day as your work ethic kept you confined to your study room. you being a best selling author, him a pro volleyball player; you truly were the power couple worthy of everyone’s envy and admiration, but your lives could get stressful at times.

‘kou, I’m sorry ‘m dragging you away from your routine. the game season starts in two months. you should be hitting some balls right now.’ you withdraw your hand, and he instantly misses your touch. you appear a little crestfallen as you opt to idly fiddle with the lace bordering your sundress.

‘hey,’ his voice is silky, tone slightly chastising. ‘don’t apologise. this was my idea anyways. we need some time away. from everything.’

‘you know that,’ he continues, ‘i’ll never be too busy for you, right? it makes me feel lonely when you just withdraw from me... shut me out.’ his face eyebrows furrow a little. ‘for you I’ll always carve out  time.’

bokuto had a way with words that always left you stupefied. they weren’t embellished and gaudy, like yours. all you ever did was spin fairy tales. Yes they were beautiful, but they were also false. unlike you, he always spoke from his heart, and you wonder if that was why his sentiments without fail reached others.

‘oi- don’t fall asleep.’

‘i’m not sleeping!’ you snap out of your reverie. ‘i’m sorry i… never realised you’d feel that way’ puffing out a sigh, you lean back lazily on the leather seat. ‘i haven’t been feeling much inspiration lately, and when i do write i just hate every word of it.’ 

‘maybe I should retire,’ you muse. ‘never write a word again. let people remember me as the genius author I’m not.’

‘but you are a genius writer!’ bokuto insists. ‘give it a fifty years and they’ll be teaching your work as a part of the curriculum. i’ve never read anything better!’

‘that’s because you rarely read!’

‘i am a picky reader,’ bokuto shrugs, cocking an eyebrow as he looks at you haughtily. ‘so congratulations that your writing actually piqued my interest.’

snorting, you pinch his thigh.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

it’s almost evening by the time you drive past a small sleepy town. the few houses have their curtains drawn. there’s a small supermarket and a polyclinic but you notice how the streets are mainly empty, save for a couple of children who play seven tiles on the roadside. fifteen minutes and more grassy meadows and sheep later, you arrive at what looks like the edge of the world. surely you’re being a little dramatic calling it that, but the road winds up the gentle slope of a hill and on top of it sits a pristine white house. bokuto pulls up the car in front of massive wrought iron gates, a chain holds it shut.

‘okay, but when nori said ‘vacation home’, this is not what I had in mind. Is he actually the heir to a conglomerate or something?’ you observe, definitely appalled.

‘uh- knowing his stingy ass, i’m not sure?’ bokuto sounds and looks puzzled as well, so you know he wasn’t expecting it either. he reconfirms the address konoha had messaged him. ‘do we climb the gates? because he never gave me a key or anything. he said the place has a caretaker who’d-’

‘how can I help?’

your heart leaps to your throat, and both you and bokuto snap your heads to your left to look at a man who stands on bokuto’s side of the car. neither of you had seen him approaching and it  was as if he were a magician, materialising out of thin air. old, sinewy and dressed sharply in a suit, he’s hunching to be at your eye levels. upon closer look the fabric of his clothes looked worn out and they fray at the edges. his hair is slicked back and he wears gold rimmed spectacles, its lenses the shape of half moons. his smile is serene, demeanour dignified but there’s shrewdness in his tone.

‘um- hi.’ bokuto greets recovering first. ‘i am konoha’s friend. i assume you’ve been expecting us?’

a beat passes.

‘indeed. allow me to show you around.’

bokuto parks the car under a shed close to the gates and you walk down the stretch of the garden. it is immaculately kept, and roses of all colours bloom neatly in rows. a giant sycamore tree stands close to the house, its branches brushing the roof. when you stand on the porch of the house the gate seems miles away. bokuto wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close to his side. he sneaks a soft kiss under your left ear as the caretaker opens up the door for you.

the inside of the house is splendidly furnished and it leaves you awestruck. simple but gorgeous, a modern castle of sorts. a cream colored leather sofa sits in the centre of the living room, the rug in front of it is white and fluffy. There is a box television- the kinds popular decades ago, and you wonder if it actually works or if it’s just for show. the chandelier above is a million crystals and an open kitchen makes up the far end of the living room. a stair case winds its way up. but, what truly catches your eye are the massive french doors which open up to the stretch of a green lawn. calling it a backyard would be a bit inadequate; for the trimmed grass meets the surface of a great lake, its water like molten lava reflecting the evening sky. you can see the outline of ducks waddling away, probably on their way home. the lake stretches out for almost a mile and after that you see nothing but the thicket of the woods. it is almost the end of july, so while the days are warm, the temperatures tend to dip quite a bit at night. you shiver a little and snuggle closer into bokuto’s side. the caretaker, in his monotonous voice,  explains to you how your room shall be upstairs,  the one to the right. there were four other rooms which were mostly empty and locked for the sake of easy maintenance. you tune him out when he moves on to the instructions regarding the heating and locking systems.

you’re entranced by the house, and standing there in its magnanimity you feel like you’ve been drawn into a picture book. you can imagine breakfasts every morning on the front porch. afternoons spent lolling on the grass besides the lake. you would keep a vase filled with freshly cut roses from the garden, in the centre of the kitchen table. spend the nights sitting in front of the fire place when winter laid its thick blanket of white snow outside. your high flying careers felt like a distant dream. your laptop back home could collect all the dust it wanted to. you could just stay here forever wrapped up in each others arms.

i’m lonely. i hate how you’re always away from home because of volleyball.

bokuto notices your distant look , the slightest way your lips are set in a grimace. it tugs on his heartstrings. makes it difficult for him to breathe.

bringing his mouth close to your ear, he whispers your name bringing you out of your head. you blink, biting back the ugly realisation that had just intruded your brain. you had never felt that way before, you had forced yourself not to. it was long ago when you had decided that you’d never make him choose between you and volleyball. or maybe that loneliness was something you’d always felt. but because you were afraid of it; you had hidden it under your skin, in between your bones.

if i could, i’d steal you away and keep you all to myself. in a cage just for me and you.

too afraid that he’ll somehow read your mind, you step away from him, disoriented by the venomous voice of your subconscious as you look around for the old man.

‘he left while you were zoning out, princess. said he’s going home.’ he pulls your back against his chest, long fingers begin snaking up a well known trail up your thighs. your cute little sundress does little to stop him. ‘he’ll be back by noon tomorrow, to tend to the garden and all that.’ bokuto speaks in between the kisses he’s placing along the side of your neck. ‘apparently, he lives in that town we drove by earlier.’

‘mhmm.’

‘want to live in a house like this someday.’ he asks you, his voice hushed.  you rest your head back on his chest, as love and lust pools in your stomach and clouds your thoughts.

i’m scared someday you’ll leave me behind.

“me. you. maybe a dog. maybe… children?” he continues and your eyes widen at that.

‘you want all that?’

‘with you? yes I want everything. i’ll take everything that you can give me.’

liar.

you turn around and pull bokuto into a heated kiss. his chapped lips meld into yours and your teeth clack a little from the suddenness of your movement. by now it is completely dark outside and the living room is dimly lit by a lamp. bokuto seems unaware, too lost in you to be notice space and time. but, a weird sensation surrounds you. you feel the whisper of a cool breeze, a murmur disturbing the stillness of the house. with one hand, bokuto cups your behind. the fingers of his other rake through your hair. it’s a buzz now, like a thousand bees hovering over your heads. you feel dazed, you’re needy, you’re confused.

there’s someone else here. the two of you are not alone.

‘ow,’ you yelp in pain.

bokuto jumps away from you, but his hands are badly tangled in your hair.

‘I told you to tie your hair in the car!’ he is laughing. ‘it’s a nest in here!’

the buzzing dies down. the silence that follows is deafening. you wonder if you’re delusional with the lack of sleep.

as bokuto carefully weaves his fingers out he places a chaste kiss on the little crease in between your eyebrows. he finds you so cute, it physically hurts him.  

‘don’t worry, babygirl,’ his voice drops a few octaves. ‘windswept looks sexy on you.’

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

later that night as you are lie under the drapes and canopies, you notice how the bedroom is much like the rest of the house- fit for royalty. bokuto snores softly, but you lie awake with your head on his chest. his heartbeat is a mind-numbing rhythm. a thin sheet of sweat covers your bodies and you try to ignore the wetness in between your legs. you should probably change the sheets as well, but your body refuses to move and you don’t know where to find any new ones. sleep evades you so you let Bokuto’s question roll around in your mind. a forever with him. of course you would say yes. there was nothing more that you wanted than that. but the dread from earlier which you had managed to keep at bay with lust, slowly begins to resettle in the pit of your stomach.

he promises you an eternity now, but he’ll leave you behind soon.

you somehow clamber out of bed, making sure not to awaken bokuto. picking up his shirt from where it lies on floor, you put it on. the bedroom has identical doors from the living room, made of glass, and they open onto a small balcony. you draw open the lacey curtains and step out into the chilly night air. the sight that awaits you makes you gasp.  a fine mist rolls over the water, but the lake itself is still.  its surface is like taut cellophane. beyond the lake where the woods begin, it is pitch black darkness and you cannot tell where the woods meet the moonless sky. it’s a new moon night, but where you expect to see the stars is an empty hollowness. its eerily silent. too silent. no insects trill. no wind blows. you stare intently into the water for so long that you swear you see something lurking just underneath its surface.  the mist that hovers slowly inches towards the house, coiling like endless bony fingers.

that pool of velvety darkness, i wonder what it’d feel like against my skin.

come to me then. feel it for yourself. your voice, no, her voice purrs.

you whirl around to see bokuto. he’s standing a feet away from you, rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

‘whoah! easy,’ bokuto exclaims, surprised by your jumpiness. no way it had been him who had spoken moments ago. ‘what are you doing outside?’ he asks. ‘i nearly got a heart attack when I saw someone standing out here.’ 

you look back towards the lake, and you’re utterly confused. the mist seems to have instantly vanished. you can even hear the water now, softly undulating. it appears akin to a creased sheet of silk.

had you been hallucinating? dreaming with your eyes open?

you fight down the growing panic and instead walk over to him, squishing his cheeks. you softly kiss his pout. ‘aww. baby’s scared?’ you coo.

he grumbles something about you catching a cold but tugs you inside and you decide to let it all go. you’re tired and tomorrow will be a new day.

had you turned around, you’d notice how the stars were glittering like cold hard gems in the night sky.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

you were pleasantly lazing about in the sun. the lake was a glittering blue and the woods looked benign during the day. they weren’t as dense as they appeared to be in the absence of light. from where you lay, the house looks like an entity of its own. imposing and regal. bokuto is dressed casually in a t-shirt and sweatpants as he plays around witha volleyball, tossing and spiking it all by his lonely self. you didn’t remember seeing him pack a volleyball, but then again somehow he always seemed to miraculously have a one at his disposal. today,  he hasn’t gelled his hair up in its usual style, so it flops onto his  forehead in a way you wished he’d leave it more often.

‘y/n! nice receive!’ he hollers at you.

he spikes the ball aiming straight for your stomach and you somehow manage to block his assault. thank god he hadn’t used a quarter of the strength he usually puts into his spikes.

your strong and annoying man.

‘you trying to murder me or what?’

he pulls you up to your feet. ‘i’ll be teaching you how to spike, drama queen. it’s insane how you’ve been with me for all these years and haven’t learnt a thing or two about volleyball. people would die for a one on one training session with me.’ he brags as he fetches the ball from where it had rolled off to.

you try to copy his motions, but what he can effortlessly pull off is an impossible feat for you. you send the ball upwards and jump as you try to match your timing to spike it. but before you can hit the ball it lands on your head.

bokuto is losing his shit, doubling over with laughter. and you try to look angry but end up giggling with him.

‘i give up!’ you complain. plus my boobs jiggle since i’m not wearing a sports bra,’ 

‘babe, thats kinda the point!’ he beams.

a perfect spike lands on his face.

‘owww, that’s foul play, y/n! ’ he yells. rubbing his nose, he walks over to you.

‘you should be punished!’ he scolds you, but places a kiss on your temple. his hands wander downwards to unzip your dress. he lets it fall to the ground. you know where this is headed. you think he’s going to kiss you so you close your eyes and lean towards him but before you can react, he’s bending down and suddenly you’re being lifted. he has you over his shoulders and your peals of laughter warm his heart. he hadn’t heard that sound in a while.

bokuto marches straight into the lake and dumps you in. the water is cool and refreshing, just as you had imagined it. it’s shallow enough so you’re chest deep in the water when your feet are planted at the bottom. his body glistens with dampness, hair a floppy wet mess. he was so beautiful, that even though it was irrational you felt a little bit shy. you’re splashing each other with water, the atmosphere’s light and bubbly with amusement. bokuto tries to catch you but you slip out of his reach. he is being his loud and  dramatic self as he falls face down into the water, complaining as he comes up with his eyes screwed shut. 

‘i swear i’d rather be blinded by your beauty than this water.’

you shake you head, feigning disdain and then you’re swimming away from him, towards the safety of the house. it must almost be noon, and you vaguely remember its time for the care taker to come around. you did not want to be seen in your wet underwear. bokuto calls out to you, apologising. there is water in your ears, it laps all around you as you swim. it dulls all sound and every other sense until the only thing you hear is your thumping heart. when you come up for air, you can see the blue sky, when your face is in the water you can see the stones and pebbles littering the bottom.

but, when you come up for air again, the sky is overcast. laden with dense gray clouds.

the water runs icy, lead flows through your veins. your body is sinking like a ship. it feels like you’re trying to move through viscous jelly. when you try to pull up for air you cannot break through, the surface traps you like its the cellophane you remember seeing the night before. a tight grip on your waist, abruptly pulls you under. your flailing hands try to grasp at nothing in particular. you wonder if its bokuto just messing around, but you know it isn’t. you don’t feel his presence anywhere. your fingers suddenly entangle into something. your eyes burn when you try to open them and look. jet black strands of hair, a bone white face, a mouth that is open like a gaping wound. you scream and nothing but gurgles and air bubbles escape you. you try to pull back but your hands are stuck in the weedlike hair. Funny you think of the evening before, when bokuto’s fingers had entangled in your messy hair the same way.

‘kou…koutaro!’ you try calling for him. you hear your disembodied voice, feel the water flood your mouth, your nose. but you feel all alone with that woman straight out of nightmares. fear has you in its grip, your minds a mush.

you hate him so damn much. you hate him, you hate him, you HATE him.  a voice repeats the same words in your head. you wonder if it sounds like your own or someone else’s. you cannot tell the two apart.

you feel a hand wrap around your arm, its large and warm and it feels like home. as it drags you out of the water the ashen face seems to quiver and distort. her eyes flicker open. they roll in their sockets but when they fixate on you, you see eyes just like your own. but they are transparent like marbles; burning with betrayal and accusation.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

you wake up with a start to screams piercing the air. they are shrill and blood curdling. your hands are on your ears as you try to block out the sound but it only gets louder. it takes you a moment to realise that the screaming had been you. bokuto holds you in his arms, you can feel him shaking underneath your palms that grapple at his back.

he’s crying.

no! why is your bokuto crying? you pull away a little just enough to look at him, but the way his features are twisted in melancholy punctures a hole through your heart.

‘y/n, babe… babe,’ his lips quiver stealing away speech but he forces himself to speak. ‘ i looked everywhere in the water but I couldn’t find you. you were swimming and then you just stopped. i thought you were fooling around but you were down there for too long. so i come over but... I couldn’t see you anywhere at first. i panicked! holy shit... i was panicking.’ he shifts away from you, an arms length away. leaning back on the sofa, he stares up at the ceiling. ‘You weren’t even struggling, just stopped moving. Do you remember what happened?’ bokuto drags a hand down his face. he’s visibly distressed.

‘i don’t know what happened,’ you croack. ‘it felt like I was stuck. my feet wouldn’t come lose. as if someone was there with me in the water, holding me down…’ a sob escapes you.

bokuto pales a little at your description. but there had been no one but the two of you in the water. hell he hadn’t even seen any fishes.

he had pulled you under in the first place hadn’t he. there’s no one here but the two of you.

you remember not being alone in the water. you remember the heaviness. but nothing else.

bokuto opens his mouth to say something, but you cannot concentrate. the urge is too strong. before you can think, before you can answer. you are bending over and puking your guts out.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

you spend the rest of the day, clinging to bokuto. and he doesn’t mind. he seems to be craving that constant feeling of your skin on his. something to remind him that you were okay, that you were here now. he makes his way around the kitchen with you stuck to him like a little koala.

“sit down on that chair just for a minute, y/n. i can’t find the plates!” he tries to loosen your chokehold on him but you only tighten it and bokuto booms out a laugh.

‘i swear you’re lucky you’re cute.”  

‘just consider this weight training.’

bokuto had put together a light meal. you reckoned you’d be unable to stomach anything too heavy.

‘we were supposed to be having fun. i feel like i’ve ruined everything.’ you mumble gloomily. you’re sitting on the chairs you pulled up around the kitchen island. a make shift dining table.

‘it’s okay. its enough to just be together.’

‘oh no been away from you for a five whole minutes.’ your expression is of mock worry as you rush over onto his lap. you immediately bury your head in the crook of his neck, his familiar scent calms you down. he chuckles at your antics.

‘do you think we can just go home?’ you ask apprehensively, still feeling bad about having spoilt your perfect little getaway.  ‘i don’t feel like staying here anymore.’

‘sure, baby girl .’ bokuto replies in a heartbeat, and you wonder if he feels the same unease in remaining here any longer.

‘we can leave tomorrow morning.’ he suggests. ‘it might be a bit too late to leave now. plus, caretaker-san didn’t even show up today.’

‘is it okay to just leave?,’ you ask.

from where bokuto sits on the dining table in the kitchen, he can see the doors in the living room that open up to the porch. it’s around three in the afternoon. the weather was beginning to turn awfully gloomy.

clouds slowly fill the sky eclisping the sun that had shined all day. it leaves everything in shades of gray.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

you wake up alone in bed. the remnants of an eerie dream still lingers in your mind. you had been combing your hair, which was unusually thick, dark and long. you kept brushing the silky smooth strands, on and on and on, until they started coming loose in your hands. shuddering as you recall it, you turn around to see the wall clock read nine p.m. where was kou? at some point you had fallen asleep although you did not remember coming upstairs to the bedroom. he must’ve carried you from where you and him had been lying on the sofa downstairs, idly chatting.

your body is still heavy with exhaustion but you force yourself to sit up. hearing the water running in the bathroom, you call out to bokuto. ‘kou?’  you pad your way over to the bathroom. when you open the door there is no one inside. water drips from from a leaky tap into an empty bath tub. strange. where had the sound been coming from then?

you find yourself mesmerised by your reflection in the mirror right across from you. when you step inside the bathroom, the tiles are dry and frigid underneath your feet. the lights are off, however, the bathroom is faintly lit up by the light filtering in from the frosted windows. the bags under your eyes are dark and puffy, your lips look ashen. you look like you had lost a tonne of weight over the span of the past few hours. tracing a finger along the outline of your reflection, you notice how your eyes were a forlorn abyss. hollow like the dead.

mine. stay with me. don’t leave me alone. a voice whispers to you and you listen, enchanted.

you see the corners of your lips quirk up in your reflection. your expression twists into that of deranged happiness.

so, you’ll stay?

you don’t feel the smile on your face.

you’re backing away slowly. a scream dies in your throat.

that isn’t you. it’s her.

you’re running full speed out of the bathroom and you make it just in time as the door slams shuts behind you. the edge of your thin white slip gets caught in between but you yank it loose with enough force. bursting out of the room like a bat out of hell you’re hurtling downstairs. you have to look for bokuto. you must leave. now!

you’re me, i am you. he doesn’t love you, so just stay with me. I’m lonely.

you try to call out to bokuto but you cannot find your voice.

and then you see him. sitting on the sofa. the relief you feel is momentary. the old television is on, and the screen is grainy with static but bokuto’s eyes are intent on it. he’s still as if he were carved out of stone. he doesn’t acknowledge your presence just keeps staring ahead with an owlish gaze. you place a shaky hand on his shoulder and he finally turns to look at you.

his eyes that usually are like pools of golden honey are dark and murky like cheap kerosene. his features are sharper, more cunning. a devil in your lover’s skin. the mist outside thickens, appearing as if they were pale white walls surrounding the house.

i told you to just stay with me. you should’ve stayed with me in that cool dark water.

he doesn’t love you, i do.

suddenly bokuto is stalking towards you, his movements hypnotic like that of a panther, sinuously fluid, predatory. a feral look glints in those foreign eyes. he slams you against the nearest wall, his hands tightening over your neck. your head meets the hard surface with a thud. those large arms that have always felt like home suddenly feel empty and cold like a prison cell.

you’re just a prisoner in his cage. he doesn’t love you like I will.

black spots fill your vision, as your air supply is slowly being cut off. ‘kou- please don’t.’ you whimper. a flicker of recognition flashes through those eyes, but the grip around your neck only tightens. ‘kou-’ you call again softly. tears fall freely down your face. your hands go limp by your sides and in the process you knock over a vase that had been on table besides you. it falls to the marble floor with an obnoxious crash. the ceramic splinters into a hundred pieces. bokuto’s eyes widen and the darkness from his face lifts. it is as if a thick patch of clouds obscuring the moon had drifted past, letting its pure light fall to the earth once again. he’s your bokuto once again.

horror struck he lets go of your neck and catches a glimpse of the angry red fingerprints left behind like a morbid necklace. you collapse to the ground.

a door bangs shut somewhere in the house, startling you both. bokuto is about to crouch down next to you when suddenly the volume of the television is cranked up. the harsh static sound grates your ears, like a drawn out growl. there’s thumping coming from behind every surface of the house- the walls, the floors, the ceilings. every door, every window  swings open only to shut back with a bang, over and over until shards of broken glass lie like a carpet all over the floor. the house is alive with the breath of countless souls that live in its every crack and crevice. you both look on with horror as heavy mist begins to pour into the house. bokuto’s teeth chatter with fear, and he tries to get you to stand. he follows your gaze which is fixed to where your bedroom had been. and he sees it then. on the door which opens into the room, there’s a shadow of a woman. he can discern the long straight hair which she combs on and on and on.

‘f-fuck!’ he spits.

he harshly pulls you over his shoulders but transfixed you crane up your neck to continue looking at the shadow. hastily he manages to grab the keys which he had hung on a hook by the main door.  the shadow grows darker, more defined as if  whoever it belonged to was coming closer. he feels you struggling and you scream to be let down.the main door to the house is already open so with one last glance at the chaos behind, you are both bolting out of the house.

‘y/n, run! to the car. hurry, hurry, hurry!’ he shuts the door, hoping it would buy you some time. he’s not really sure what he’d just seen or what any of it meant. but thinking would come later. he grabs your hand as you start the mad dash across the front garden. you notice despite your compromised vision due to the mist, how the roses look wilted. the grounds gooey and wet underneath, and your feet sink into the soft mud making movement sluggish. but you don’t stop. moments later, the door behind you flings open with enough force that it comes loose from its hinges. the whole house seems to be angry.

come back here.

don’t leave me alone.

an overgrown root coils around your calf and yanks you back. your hand slips out of bokuto’s and he turns around, horrified, to see you being dragged into the ground. like you were falling into quicksand.

‘hold on to my arm,’ bokuto bellows, ‘and just don’t. let. go!’

the circulation in your leg is being cut off and you cry in pain. you can feel the disgusting way the soft earth keeps parting further to let you in. you want to let go, give in to the struggle. maybe it’d be better to just lie buried here, decomposing till you forget whats fear, whats pain.

your name is rolling off bokuto’s tongue like a chant. his muscles burn with strain. the sweat and slick makes his grip on you weak and he notices how you’re  letting go. he reads the resignations on your face. but why are you letting go? why are you trying to leaving him alone?

bokuto loses his footing and falls backwards and almost loses you, but he manages to interlock your fingers. he’s grunting with effort, and roars with frustration when it doesn’t seem to be working. it is then when you see the blood covering his feet, the glass splinters buried deep into his soles. in your haste to get away you never noticed how he had walked all over the shards with you over his shoulder. the ache in your heart swells. you know he’d never leave you behind. it was the two of you, or none of you who’d make it alive out of here.

the thought of bokuto buried deep into the ground, lips blue and crusted with mud gives you a renewed conviction. with the last spurts of energy you hold tight onto bokuto’s arm with one hand. the other digs into where you find soft but solid ground. you attempt to claw your way out and fight the drag of the noose around you ankle that tries to pull you in the opposite direction. away from bokuto. bokuto is inching backwards, his voice hoarse with all that screaming as he does his utmost to haul you out. 

rain begins to pour in heavy cascades even though there hadn’t been a single cloud in the obsidian sky. and suddenly you feel earth’s hold on you go slack. bokuto and your efforts come to fruition as your foot comes loose and you tumble straight on top of bokuto’s body. but its too early to celebrate. a loud thunderclap spurs you both into action and you run and run, fighting the burn in your lungs until you reach the car. bokuto, is grateful, infinitely grateful that the keys had remained in his pockets during that struggle. he hands you the keys and with no time to waste you’re  running to the car, afraid that something inauspicious might happen again if you didn’t hurry. bokuto notices with relief that the iron gates are not chained shut like they had been upon your arrival, and with some effort he swings them open.  bokuto clambers into the passenger seat and you floor the gas as you drive straight out of the gates, into a calm quiet night. 

it takes you a moment to notice that the rain had stopped. 

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

the two of you are covered in dirt, in blood. absolutely shattered with exhaustion. bokuto finally feels the pain that had been dampened by adreneline. it now ignites like an inferno. he almost tears his lip trying to bite back a whimper. in the rear view mirror, you catch a glimpse of the house. it looks regal and imposing, as it had when you’d first arrived. you can see the dimly lit bedroom, the curtains billowing gently in a slight breeze. the glass on the doors is intact. the garden is immaculate once again and you can see patches of soft grass spread out where the mud had almost eaten you up alive just a few moments ago. a shaky laugh escapes Bokuto, and before you know it, feeling delirious, you’re laughing with him. 

bokuto’s phone rings and the sound cuts short your hysteria. with some effort he retrieves it from the dashboard where he’d left it two days ago. he had planned on not letting anything distract him from you on this short getaway. he puts it on loudspeaker.

‘they picked up!’ you hear Konoha say to someone and the collective sighs of relief are audible.

‘dude, where have you both been? we’ve been calling you all day. ms. nakamura told me that you never made it to my vacation home?’

‘ms. nakamura?’ bokuto rasps.

‘yeah, the caretaker I told you about?’

‘the caretaker was a man!’ you snatch the phone with from bokuto with one hand while other remains on the steering wheel. you’re yelling at the receiver like a mad woman. ‘we came to your villa, but that man opened the gates. listen, there’s something wrong with the house and lake behind it is-’

‘what lake? there are only corn fields behind my house. which is, by the way, a traditional japanese one. where the fuck have you both been?!’

you and bokuto look at each other in confusion, and you hit the brakes. you glance back at the house which is now far, far away. if you squint your eyes you can see the outline of a man at the gates. the lamp in his hand glows golden like a distant star.

a woman’s shadow is dark and lonely against the delicate lace of the bedroom’s curtains.

[clairecrive]

“Hold me?”- Alfie Solomons x reader imagine

This is honestly me coping through fiction, what’s new tho. I’m super tired but I wanted to give you something, so here it is. This is for the lovely anon that asked for fluffy Alfie and a stressed reader. I didn’t proofread it, I’ll come back later on it. In the meantime, I hope you’re all well and safe. If you want to, I’m always here to talk. 

Hope you like this!

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye​, @mollybegger-blog​, @of-love-and-of-the-sea​, @br0ck-eddie​. @fandom--0verdose​, @evelynshelby​, @shadow-of-wonder (let me know if you wanna be added)

When y/n had been given the job, she knew that it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. Her employ came with some hardships but she didn’t mind. She was resolute in doing the best she can and not be swayed by them. She also knew, that giving her demanding job, whatever relationship she’d have would be inevitably affected by her schedule. She had never really considered it a problem, men were busy all the time and they still get married and stuff. So why was it any different for her?

It wasn’t, she was soon to discover. She had met a man that was as busy as she was and didn’t complain once about her job nor her tight schedule because his was so just as much. However, as the days went by, she didn’t realize how the distance would take its toll on her. It wasn’t unusual for them to not see each other very often during some period of times where things were more hectic than usual at the workplace. Neither of them complained when it would happen. This time was different though. As y/n realized, the thing she thought of when she needed to find some relief from the stress that her job was giving her, was Alfie. And unfortunately for her, it was the very same thing she couldn’t have. So close yet so distant. 

Trying to keep focused on getting everything ready for her next appointment, she pushed Alfie at the back of her head just as the phone rang.

“Oh hello, it’s easier reaching the fucking queen than you, pet.” Speak of the devil...

“Hello, Alfie. I’ve been a little busy, I’m still busy.” She answered holding the phone between her shoulder and her head stopping what she was doing. she was looking through some papers, trying to find the one she needed for her next appointment and Alfie heard the paper shuffling. Y/n was a hard-working woman, he knew that. It was the very reason why the two had met and had got along so well since the beginning. However, Alfie had never thought that it would come and bite in the ass one day. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, both of them deep in their schedule and the fact that they shared a house didn’t seem to help at all. Still, he couldn’t find in him to be angry at her. Not when he was the first one to be absent because of his work. He respected her dedication to her work, he only wished that it hadn’t got to the point where he felt like he wasn’t even in a relationship.

“Do you have a minute to spare for your old man?” Alfie asked, amusement filling his voice, knowing that they had to talk about the current state of their relationship but not wanting to burden her even more at the same time.

“Of course, I can spare all the time in the world for him. Let me know when he’s coming around alright?” Now amusement filled her voice too and for the first time since she arrived in her office this morning, she stopped, rested the paper in her hands on her desk and leaned back on her chair. She knew she was lucking in the girlfriend department as of late and despite the fact that her work really was keeping her busy, every once in a while she couldn’t help but feel her heart clench, missing him so very deeply but knowing that she couldn’t go back home and snuggle with him. 

Alfie had the tendency of referring to himself as old and y/n always disagreed with him. Yes, he did appear roughed and the fact that he didn’t put any effort whatsoever in trimming and keeping at bay his beard and hair made him appear older. That didn’t mean he was old though. It didn’t help that she looked younger than she was, adding even more to this whole scenario in his head where he was an old man that somehow had managed to snatch a young girl for himself. Y/n saw the longing looks women would send her boyfriend’s way. Alfie, on the other hand, never seemed to notice or to care for them even if he did. It never bothered really but that only proved her point: women don’t drool over old men.

“He’d like to come over right now if he could.” Was Alfie’s answer, following along her little game.

“Well, you know what?” she started looking at the clock on her desk noticing that her next client would be here any minute now, “Since he’s been such a gentleman, waiting for me without complaining over my absence, I think he should be rewarded.” She finished smirking a little when she heard some shuffling over the other end of the telephone.

“I wholeheartedly agree.” His voice husky and low met her ears sending shivers down her spine. She was starved of him. No more distance, she decided then. Everything had been going so bad lately and Alfie had always been her favourite and most efficient stress-relief.

“I know you do. Would you be a dear and pass him the message then?” She asked smugly and upon seeing her client approaching, she hanged up after hearing his positive reply.

As everything lately, the remaining appointments had either not been successful as she’d hoped or it took her hours of discussing to reach an agreement that could be considered satisfying for both parts. Finally, her day had come to an end and instead of staying in and pulling in extra hours as she had been doing these past weeks, she collected her things and went home. To her awaiting man whom she had missed so much.

As soon as she walked over their threshold, the warmth and the familiar scent of her home made her relax instantly. And for the first time in what felt like ages, she was met by the lovely sight of Alfie standing at the end of the hall. He was still wearing his work clothes but had made himself comfortable, the waistcoat forgotten and his suspenders hanging beside his legs.

“Here’s my present.” He softly called for her from where he was standing, waiting for her to discard her coat and shoes and get cosy as well.

“In the state that I am, I can hardly be considered a present. You always flatter me.” She knew that she was the further thing from alluring and sexy but Alfie’s words managed to make her smile a little anyway. As soon as she was within arms reach, his long and strong ones encircled her and brought her closer to his chest. Hers instinctively wrapped around his neck, bringing him close to her as well. It had been a while since they’d been this close and now, y/n found out, had never realized how important and cherished was for her this intimate gestures and closeness. How good it made her feel to be in his arms, how safe. 

After a sweet kiss, her face went to snuggle into his neck while his head rested gently on her shoulder. Alfie could feel the tension in her shoulders and he had noticed as well, when she got home, how tired and drained she looked. When she let out a sigh, his arms only held her tighter, his hands resting on his arms since she was so little that he could literally engulf her in his embrace.

“I missed you so much, my beloved. I’m sorry for being this absent.” Her sweet words met his ears and he loosed his grip on her only so they could look at each other but letting her go yet.

“Nonsense, luv. You’ve been busy. Can’t blame a girl for being successful, can’t I?” His eyes soften when she smiled at him, the way she’d look so pure and young when smiling had always made him weak.

“Hardly felt like I’m successful lately.” She mumbled while gently tracing her fingers on his face. Alfie didn’t like the way her eyes clouded when she spoke about work, something was troubling her and while he knew that she was a big girl and was capable of taking care of herself and her business, he also couldn’t help but worry and feel homicidal tendencies towards whoever was giving her trouble.

“Anything I can do?” He only asked. Alfie had come to know y/n very well during the course of their relationship and had come to discover that allowing her her space while dealing with anything, giving her the time to deal with it herself and only going to him if she needed a hand, was the best way of action.

“Just hold me, please?” She requested timidly. It seemed like she’d like to deal with it on her own and Alfie would not question her on it. 

“See? You are my present, I love holding you.” His smug reply only made her smile bigger and y/n couldn’t help the giggle that left her lips when he scooped her up in his arms, before walking towards their bed where a much deserved long cuddling session was awaiting them.

[shoichee]

GoMs + Kagami as Persona Users

Headcanons on the Generation of Miracles (and Kagami) if they were to become a persona user in the world of the Persona series (Kuroko and Momoi included)

@akichan-th​ THIS IS FOR YOU

Warning: KNB series spoilers !!

Kuroko Tetsuya

since his presence is nonexistent in the real world, as a phantom thief, he’d probably desire to be a noticeable hero, you know? even in the 22.5 OVA, he told Kise that passing around wasn’t fun but he was going to do it for the sake of the team

his phantom thief outfit would be flashy in a sense of maybe eye-catching color schemes, or bold patterns

his attire could be baggy/oversized navy blue/black street clothing with TASTEFUL neon-colored accents and his mask would be a neon-colored huge sports shades/goggles situation (i was about to say some trendy sunglasses but sunglasses don’t stay on at all); he’s a skater boy ???? basically??

like, his PT attire could very well be a Persona 5 Dancing in Starlight DLC outfit 👀 it has those vibes

persona element is curse and let me explain why: he doesn’t have the gifted physique like the other GoMs and he’s cursed to rely on others for him to make a difference, and his motif has always been “shadow” ALSO he’s the PHANTOM sixth player YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE

he’s a front-line battler, but his skills are very support heavy: support skills that increase attack and defense for his teammates; i also wanna say he has spells that inflict dizziness ailments because in the anime, players are always losing their shit and whipping their heads around to find this tiny boy LMAO

he would definitely have a signature move that would direct all enemy attacks and status moves to himself for a set amount of turns to aid his teammates

his persona would have an extremely high Endurance and higher than average Luck stat but everything else is an all-time low

i’m going to say it, his shooting weapon is gonna be a paintball gun filled with neon paint just to fuck with the shadows and still make it HURT

code name would be “Umbra” (which means innermost part of a shadow) or “Ghost;” imagine some PT member shouting, “Oh no! Umbra’s knocked down!” and all the shadow sees is this brightass, neon kid on the floor

i would love his codename to be “Shadow” but there’s already the term shadow to describe the monsters in the metaverse

Kise Ryota

he views a “rebel” as your basic punk

since he’s a model, he knows japanese punk fashion very well

guess who’s gonna come into the metaverse being this hot ass punk boy? Kise motherfucking Ryota

black spike collar

lots of those tiny chains and harness/buckle action somewhere

ripped black leather pants that give Joker’s own leather pants a run for its money PLUS WITH SHINY BLACK BELT

lots of patchwork and stuff

THIS IS WHAT MORE OR LESS  I’M TALKING ABOUT IF YOU WANT VISUAL REFERENCES

his mask would totally be a visor goggle to add further to the punk theme

part of me is biased that Kise is a blondie and “kise” is based off of “yellow” and Ryuji is blonde and so now i headcanon him as the electric element

okay, but since he’s an “all-rounder” he’ll probably be able to access mid-tier level attacks of all elements, including almighty to an extent

but if i was basing his element off of personality, he’d be ice for sure; he’s actually cold-hearted to people whom he doesn’t consider “worthy” and the anime only showed his friendly side because most of the time, he’s shown talking to his friends and people he respects

speaking of all-rounder, his stats would be all high all around, with his Magic stat peaking the highest

Midorima Shintarou

this boy is a bit tricky to figure out what his PT attire would be

he doesn’t have any time to think about “what he would be as a rebel” type of thing

however, if he were to desire to become something, i’d say he would want to be a supernatural being who can distribute good luck for himself every day

think of those JRPG wizard/mage/warlock outfit motifs (and they match up nicely with the idea of astrology and horoscopes); probably lots of brown/beige/hues of green scheme? or a black/various colors of purple for a FULL on witch vibe

it makes sense too because as someone who always shoots from afar and never dunks, mage classes always cast from afar and never attack up close to their opponent

and his frog puppets remind me of a witch’s animal familiars LMAO

there you have it

his mask would be a dark dark purple or a pure black domino mask that has little stars littered sparingly everywhere on said mask

his shooting weapon? my guy is stacked on staves ready to cast long-range spells

wind element for sure (because his basketball shots all catch air with lots of hang time | (• ◡•)|) with tons of gun skills

signature move would be a magic skill that never misses no matter what (his range is the entire metaverse)

his persona stats are also pretty well rounded but his highest stats would be Magic and Luck, with Endurance being a close runner up

Aomine Daiki

also hard to figure out a PT attire for this guy

according to KUROFES, his alternative career would be a police officer so i would think he despises criminals and the Phantom Thieves altogether ?

if anything, he’s more suited for the S.E.E.S. investigation team in Persona 3

Aomine doesn’t give a fuck, but he has a soft spot to protect others so like having a gun evoker definitely suits him more than a mask summon BRJWBDJW

i see him as a fire element, but his persona would have a lot more physical skills than anything else

bonus: since he used to be Kuroko’s “light,” he can have some mid-tier level bless skills

to make a reference his “formless” shots and forms, as well as his rapid changes of pace, his signature move would be a 5-hit physical skill that changes targets with every hit

statwise, his Agility stat is the highest out of everyone in the GoM, and his Strength and Endurance would be runner up stats; his Magic stat would be extremely dismal

Murasakibara Atsushi 

this guy thinks about nothing but food and how he hates Teppei-species people basketball, so honestly he’s not interested in the Phantom Thieves business

like what? Murasakibara dressed in a getup? it’s a big “press X to doubt”

so i envision him to be more suitable for Persona 4, where he has to confront the other self that loves basketball and truly does care about people, and he had to be honest and accept that side for him to attain a persona

would he ever go back to the said “persona world” to go fight some shadows? unless there’s a good reason why he should or you bribed him with snacks, he won’t budge an inch

just give this man a Persona 4 school uniform and he’s ready to fight

his persona would primarily have physical skills, with lots of “wall” support skills, element “break” skills, and lots of passive skills (lots of nulls/resists) available for it to learn

highest stat for him would be Strength, then Endurance, and surprisingly have Agility as the runner up

he’s a huge tank of a persona user

Akashi Seijuro

i’ve talked about his PT outfit in this headcanon here, including his mask and why

hear me out, since this man is good at everything in school, and since there are archery clubs in Japanese schools, i wouldn’t be surprised if he was a Robin Hood with the scopes; what am i tryna say? his shooting weapon would be bow & arrows

i feel like people would automatically think he’s a bless/curse element like Akechi since “he has two sides,” but i feel like it’s not exactly right? if anything, i headcanon him to be more of a psychokinesis element

why? i want to attribute that to his emperor’s eye and his perfect passings, both each specialties from their respective “sides” of Akashi, and that requires extreme precision, almost to the level of “telepathy”

there’s also everyone thinking he can see the future too i mean

in the end, Akashi’s dual sides merged into one again, so having a whole bless/curse element wouldn’t even make sense anymore

but i will say, this man deserves to have a persona with almighty skills back to back

this guy isn’t the captain for no reason

so his persona would utilize psychokinesis and almighty skills, with special buff skills that increase critical rates for his allies (to refer to the fact that his passings enhance other players); his persona would also enjoy a large selection of passive skills to choose from to either be ultimate support or ultimate offensive sweeper

to also reiterate from the mentioned headcanon i linked, his code name would either be “Crimson” or “Scarlet”

his persona is a literal glass cannon, referring to the fact that Akashi is actually a mentally fragile basketball player; extremely high Strength, Magic, and Agility (but not as high as Aomine though) stats, average Luck stat, but extremely low Endurance stat

Momoi Satsuki

Momoi, i think, would envision herself in the metaverse as someone who’s never underestimated because of her usual demeanor or physical looks

even me, i got fooled thinking she was just only a fanservice girl and not this incredibly intelligent girl who was critical to her teams’ successes

so i would think she would imagine herself to be in a huge respectable position of power, like a lieutenant or general, who can command others and strategize to victory

her outfit would be similar to the attire from the Assassin’s Faith set from Love Nikki with the black Army Floppy Hat from the Army Major set on top (also from Love Nikki) 

color scheming i can imagine a lot of black/white with gold trimmings/accents here and there

her mask is a Venetian eye mask i can literally see it; it’s so pretty with the gold plating !!

her role would definitely be a navigator + analyzer/tactician from the backlines, so while she isn’t in the battle most of the times, if worse comes to shove, she’ll be in the frontlines as a last resort

in other words, she’s a Futaba, but she isn’t a sitting duck and can fight if needed

she has an incredible Luck stat, higher than average Agility stat, but average stats for the rest (Magic, Strength, and Endurance)

ailment, healing, support, and buff skills are all at her disposal, along with some gun skills (which can definitely be broken when paired with her high Luck stat)

“Duchess” (a woman having a noble rank) would be a really cute codename for her

Kagami Taiga

why do i literally see him as a shinobi (ninja)

i have no idea why i do, but i think it’s just his name:

“While Kagami's name is associated with the ‘tiger’, Himuro's name means ‘dragon’. In Chinese mythology, the Azure Dragon of the East and the White Tiger of the West are eternal rivals. This rivalry is further expressed in their surnames: ‘Hi (氷)’ means ‘ice’ while ‘Ka (火)’ translates as ‘fire’.” - KNB wiki

so i literally see both Himuro and Kagami as rival clans duking it out

jokes aside, Kagami is a very honorable player, but he did at one point exhibited a “darker side” to himself, playing selfishly and being arrogant in the beginning

shinobis were considered to be “dishonorable” and “beneath the honor” of the samurai in their eras, so i feel that this could be a great image for what Kagami thinks is a “rebel” 

being a ninja would make use of his jumping skills too

i imagine him in a fitted black halter neck top (so his abs are for us to see), with an iconic long red scarf wrapping his neck and hanging down to his waist at the back side

black forearm guards/wraps?

and then he has mahogany/dark red??/black???? loose cloth wrapped around his waist, like how you would tie a jacket over your waist ?? and then black nu-bakama pants and finally some dark boots for those pants to be tucked in

no one can convince me otherwise, but he’s gotta have a red full-face oni mask with black horns and some golden tiger stripes on the sides of the mask and around the eyes

HIS PERSONA ELEMENT IS BLESS BECAUSE HE IS KUROKO’S “LIGHT”

he would totally have some almighty skills and “Heat Riser,” a move that raises all of the user’s attack, defense, and accuracy/evasiveness (because the colors of the move’s animation remind me of Direct Drive Zone, something that was pretty much unlocked by Kagami for the team)

his persona is one of the OP/late game personas where all their stats are amazing across the board; even if his stats were high all around, his “lowest” would be his Luck stat

codename for him is “Tiger” no one cannot argue with me for this one NRNEIJFEO

[hanawrites404]

Twice My Age

Show : Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Jojo No Kimou Na Bouken

Pairing : Noriko (female Noriaki)/Jotaro Kujo

Warnings : Age-gap romance and sex along with swearing.

Characters : Jotaro Kujo, Noriko (female Noriaki), Jolyne Cujoh

Timeline : Pre-Stone Ocean

This story is based on this song :

This story is also based on the author's headcanon when she had finished reading Stone Ocean and was recovering her brain cells.

Third Person POV

It was a normal afternoon at Florida. Today was Friday, which meant the last day of the working week. Students at the school were frustratingly tapping the heels of their feet on the floor waiting for the school bell to ring and mark the end of the tiring session.

The teacher obviously minded his own business and lectured the pupils without averting his gaze from the blackboard. He kept ignoring the sounds of whispers and paper-tearing and snickers of the children, until for once he recognised one of the students who was continuously talking in his class, and decided to take some action.

"Ms. Cujoh" the teacher called out harshly as he teared his gaze from the blackboard and stared at the student.

The talkative student looked at the teacher and went silent. She had a piece of folded paper in her hand, her arm stretched out to the student for whom it was meant for. She retrieved her hand back and answered the teacher who was glaring lasers at her through his glasses.

"Yes Mr. Anderson??". "First, please stand up while you speak to a teacher" Mr. Anderson pushed his glasses up. The student sighed and stood up, putting away the paper she had in her pocket.

"Would you please answer the question which is on the board??". Ms. Cujoh read the question. She then rolled her eyes and read the question the teacher had written in white.

Prove that Cos2x = Cos^2x - Sin^2x

"What the??" The teenager reacted.

Mr. Anderson's gaze never left Ms. Cujoh. He was observing every move of her of how she was looking around the classroom, silently asking for help and her friends were giving her a shrug or a thumbs-down.

"Ms. Cujoh. We don't have all day"

After that, she knew that she would have to answer the question by herself.

"I-It's simple Mr. Anderson. Multiply both the sides by zero, and there you go. LHS = RHS".

The students roared with laughter at the teenager's statement. Mr. Anderson was actually expecting such kind of an answer from the rowdy teenager.

"Silence everyone" the teacher stomped his ruler on the table and the room became quiet. But it didn't last for long as the bell finally rung, meaning that it was time for dispersal.

The students quickly packed their bags by shoving their books and stationery inside and exited the classroom, scrambling on their feet. The whole classroom became empty, leaving the astute teenager and the stoic teacher alone.

The silence in the room grew kind of tense. So the girl started to pack her bag and leave the class. Until.......

"Jolyne". The teenager looked at the teacher. She really wanted to leave the vacated classroom and go home. Also she had successfully survived today's class. Now what was the problem??

"Your behaviour is getting worse day by day. And I'm afraid that you might need some extra tutelage for your discipline and your academics yet again".

The teenager rolled her eyes once again. She then placed one of her hands on her hip and looked at the teacher with disinterest.

"Give me a break Mr. Anderson. My answer was correct". "You can argue with the ones who will correct your answer sheet Ms. Cujoh. I'm definitely not the right person to go against with your illogical statement".

Jolyne held her fist tightly. She really wants to punch her teacher square in the face and make sure to get the glass shards of his glasses cut his eyes. But she decided to bottle her anger for now.

"Your discipline is very concerning. Also you are not taking your studies seriously. Even the previous teachers whom I had appointed to improve your etiquettes returned home with a broken nose and teeth" he said to himself.

Jolyne smirked to herself with pride.

"So I have decided to change my plans" he spoke.

"Ha!! So you finally understand, Mr. Anderson" she then crosses her arms and sits on the table while putting her leg on the other. "You will never be able to transform me into nerds like you want to. I'm what I want to be and I don't give a fuck to anyone who wants me to change".

"We will see about that" he then pushes his glasses. "Huh??" Jolyne raises her eyebrow at him. What was this thick-skulled teacher really planning to do to her??

"If it's another teacher, then do keep some extra bandages for the injuries, because I'll not go easy on them" she then cracks her knuckles.

"Now that's where I stop you Ms. Cujoh".

Jolyne then glared at the teacher.

"I'm not going to appoint a teacher to straighten you up. This time, it's a student of your age. Your own classmate".

Jolyne was slightly taken aback. A student?? Of her age?? And the student of her own classroom?? But she barely knew anyone who was good at both discipline and studies. The only persons she was aware of were mostly the divas, the jocks and the bullies.

"W-Who is this student you are talking about??" Jolyne asked. "You will meet her outside the school premises. She is actually one of my best students and has been topping her class for the past 3 years" Jolyne witnessed a sense of pride in Mr. Anderson's tone.

Jolyne became a bit nervous. Who was this nerd whom she hadn't even notice that she was in her school and her class?? And also, a girl??!!

"You might be wondering--'why a girl??' It's because I really want you to get along with her and learn whatever she teaches, and her being the same gender as you would be a good boost".

Jolyne then sniggered and got up from the table. "Just because she is a girl and is of my age, doesn't mean that I can't afford a bruise or two on her".

"I had already warned her about your..........tendency and she is perfectly fine with it. So do whatever you want to do to her, she will be alright with it as she was the one who chose to take the risk and tutor you".

What a daring one for a nerd......Jolyne thought.

Mr. Anderson then looked at his wrist watch. He then spoke "It's getting late. You may leave now".

"Oh thank you, Mr. Anderson" she said in a very sarcastic manner and she even bowed to add to her mockery as she left the class.

"And another thing Ms. Cujoh". Jolyne then looked behind at her teacher lethargically. Can the teacher just leave her already before she actually punches him??

"If you hadn't been the daughter of Dr. Kujo, I would have already expelled you. But I'm still giving you a chance because I'm sure that you too can be as disciplinary as your father".

"Alright first of all, Dad was a delinquent when he was my age. And second of all, he would have already punched your face and shove your stupid glasses into your mouth just to make you shut up if he was at my place" and she then goes away without saying anything else or looking back.

Mr. Anderson sighed as he stacked the sheets and registers he had to take home and correct. After he was done, he looked at the empty classroom once more, especially at the seat where the spiteful teenager sat.

"Hopefully you know what you are doing, Noriko.........."

*One minute time skip, brought to you by Binod*

"Stupid Anderson, he just doesn't know how to mind his own fucking business!!!!" Jolyne angrily stomped out of the premises. She then turned around to look at the clock which was installed on the school building.

It's 5 already. I need to return home fast. Dad is coming home earlier than his usual time so I better reach home before him..........

"Umm....Jolyne Cujoh??".

"What?!!" She turned to the voice. Jolyne relaxed her eyes a bit when she saw who was the owner of the voice.

It was a girl wearing the same uniform as her. The only difference was that she was comparatively shorter than Jolyne and was fairer than her.

She had her red hair down which was a bit longer than shoulder length and purple eyes, one red wavy bang was framing her pretty face and her lips were a glossy, cherry red.

"Do I know you??" Jolyne raised her eyebrow at the unknown girl.

"Not yet, but you will. My name is Noriko. I'm the one who is supposed to mentor you" she then goes closer to her and offers her hand to shake. "It would be a pleasure to get to know you better".

Jolyne observed the girl's hand. She had her nails perfectly trimmed but there was no polish on them. Jolyne then looked at her face and asked.

"Japanese??" She asked. "Yeah" Noriko replied. Jolyne then smirks and shakes her hand firmly.

"Then we will get along pretty well" she said. Noriko then smiles and brushes her bang behind her ear with the other hand. "I'm glad you think so" she replied.

Both of the girls let go of their hands and then they walk home beside each other.

"By the way, why did you say that we will get along well, judging by my nationality??" Noriko asked the taller girl.

"You see, I'm a Japanese myself".

"You are??" Noriko asked, a bit surprised.

"Yeah. I know. I may not look like that but yes, Japanese is one of my nationality" Jolyne replied.

Noriko then snickered and asked "Just how many nationalities do you have??". "Well, my mother is from Florida and my father is Japanese, Italian and British" Jolyne calculated.

"Wow, so many citizenships" she commented. "Haha, it's not that cool as it sounds like. Trust me" Jolyne joked. Noriko chuckled and slapped the taller girl's shoulder lightly which made Jolyne chuckle.

"So Noriko??". "Yes??". "Why did you choose to mentor me?? You do know that I have a certain.........reputation at school".

"I am aware of everything you do in school. Mr. Anderson has updated me everything on you".

"*Ugh* That fucker. What is he, a spy?? Did he only find me to spy on?? And not the ones who actually harass girls or bully lowerclassmen behind the school??"

"Actually, I should be the one at whom you should be angry at". "Huh??" Jolyne looked at her.

"Wait, don't tell me--". "Yes. I was the one who told him to note everything you do".

"*Ugh* Noriko~!! I didn't expect this from you~" Jolyne whined. "Sorry, but this was the only way to plan on how to get you into discipline just like how Mr. Anderson want it". "Fuck that teacher!!!" She then kicks a stray rock on the road which goes very far.

"You seem to be very strong". "Heh, thanks. It's not much, but I can surely lift a heavy table pretty easily". "I'll take a note of that. It might come handy to me when I need to move a table" she chuckled. Jolyne then laughs and Noriko too joins her.

After their laughter died, Noriko spoke.

"You are really fun to be with". "Thanks. I had assumed that you were going to be just like Anderson but you are one lively person" Jolyne said.

"Oh really?? Thank you. Actually, no one has said that to me before" she then brushed another strand of her hair behind her ear.

"What do you mean??" Jolyne asked. "I don't really have friends. Only a few classmates talk to me but only when they need my assistance".

"Huh?? How is that even possible?? You are such an amazing person. Also, you are very pretty. You should have at least a boyfriend with you".

"I don't have a boyfriend". "Oh......a girlfriend perhaps??". "No.....". "Oh, you love a trans??". "What?? No. I'm not interested in anyone for now". "Ahhh....I see".

"Say, do you have a boyfriend??". "My status is also as same as you. Even I'm not really interested in getting into relationships. It will just..........get in my way, that's why". "I understand. Love is.......a very new subject for me" Noriko said.

"Yeah.....me too.....Hell, I don't even know why Dad fell for Mom in the first place just to leave her after that" Jolyne stated. "Huh?? What do you mean??" Noriko looked at Jolyne.

"My parents got a divorce after I was born. And according to the laws, both of my parents have the rights on me. So I visit one of them after every alternate month. This month I'm staying with my father" Jolyne explained.

"I see. Your father is Dr. Jotaro Kujo right??". "Yes, the famous marine biologist. The one who wrote thesis on starfish and other marine creatures. How interesting" Jolyne said, adding a dramatic sarcasm to it.

"Honestly, I'm a big fan of him" Noriko added, a light blush on her cheeks. "What?? Seriously??" Jolyne gaped.

"Yes. I have read every report and thesis he has ever written. The way how he observes and analyses the creatures is just wonderful. I bet that he is going to be the one who will discover a new species of marine life which humanity has never seen before" she spoke with amazement.

"Ha!!! You are flattering him now. My Dad is nothing like how you think of him" Jolyne argued. "Oh really??" Noriko raised her eyebrow.

"Yes. I know he is smart and all but he is not Einstein-level" Jolyne answered. "I never compared him with Einstein, Jolyne. It's just that I really think of him very fondly, and I admire him a lot" Noriko said.

"Yeah yeah, but don't fall in love with him. He might break your heart" she joked. Noriko blushed pink. It's good that Jolyne didn't notice it, otherwise it would have been very awkward.

"Well, here we are. My Dad's house" Jolyne stopped and showed Noriko her house.

"Wow, it looks very big" Noriko looked all over the lavish bungalow.

"Heh, these are the perks of being a Joestar" she said. "Joestar?? What do you mean??" Noriko asked. "You first come inside and then I'll tell you" and so Jolyne and Noriko entered the luxurious house. Both of them removed their shoes and Noriko looked around the house with an agape mouth and wide eyes.

"Wow......this looks so much better from the inside. Just how rich are you people??" Noriko commented and asked Jolyne.

"Well, there was a guy named Robert Speedwagon who was friends with my great-great-grandfather. He then became rich after finding many oil ores out of nowhere. After he died, all of his luxuries went to my great-grandfather and that's how all of our expenses are taken care of" Jolyne explained.

"That's amazing. You guys are literally royals" Noriko commented. "Yeah. And also my great-great-grandfather was a noble in England, so he was rich even before the Speedwagon guy came" she added.

"I see" Noriko then sat on one of the loveseats. "Being a Joestar must be very lucky right??" Noriko asked. "If you think like that, you are gravely mistaken" Jolyne told her.

"What?? Really?? I can't believe this. But you guys have everything!!!.............I guess everything has it's pros and cons" Noriko told herself.

Jolyne was about to speak more, but then the bell of the house rang.

"That must be Dad. You stay here Noriko. I'll be right back" and then she goes to check the door. Since Noriko had nothing to do for now, she looks at her skirt and straightens it up a bit.

Jolyne on the other hand opens the door and sees her father standing outside, just as she expected.

"Hello Dad" Jolyne greeted. "Hello Jolyne, how was school??" Dr. Kujo entered the house and Jolyne stepped away to give him some space.

"Meh, it was fine. Mr. Anderson barked at me as usual" Jolyne told him. Mr. Kujo sniggered a bit.

"He doesn't seem to stop critisizing you, does he??". "Of course not. I bet he won't even shut up even after he is an old man and cannot even lift his hand to push his oversized glasses up" she mocked.

Dr. Kujo smiled a fraction as he removed his shoes and his coat. While he was putting his shoes on the rack, he noticed another pair of school shoes which were similar to that of Jolyne's.

"Jolyne, have you brought a classmate here?" Dr. Kujo asked.

"Uhh yeah. She is actually my mentor who is supposed to tutor me, starting from today. I hope you don't mind if she stays here".

"No, not at all" The professor replied. He then hung his coat up and headed to the living room, her daughter following her.

As soon as Mr. Kujo entered the room, he spotted the red-haired girl. She looked awfully familiar to him which made the professor stop on his tracks.

"Dad, what's wrong??" Jolyne spoke from behind her father.

"Noriaki........" He whispered.

"Noriaki?? No Dad, her name is Noriko"

Jolyne corrected.

Even her name is similar to his...........

Mr. Kujo continued to stare at the red head who was scribbling something in the notepad on her lap with a pencil.

That red hair, those amethyst eyes, and how she was concentrating on her work, everything Mr. Kujo had seen already a long time before. It all felt like Deja Vu to him. And he clearly remembers the person whom this girl reminds him of. He was his highschool lover after all.

"Noriko-chan" Jolyne calls her. Noriko looks up from her notepad to her friend.

"Here is my father, who is also your 'sole idol'. And Dad, this is Noriko, my friend" Jolyne introduced them to one another.

(Part 2)

[pikapeppa]

Sten/f!Mahariel: Fall Into The Tide

It’s happening. 😂 

Here is the first chapter of Sten x Yara Mahariel. ~3660 words; read here on AO3 instead.  Dedicated to @irlaimsaaralath, who is a menace and whom I love. ❤️

In which Yara decides to follow Sten on his journey home, and everyone is basically like BUT WHY THO.

*********************

“So,” Alistair said. “You, uh. You know what you’re doing, right?”

“I do, in fact,” Yara said. “Right now I’m packing my satchel. Hand me that dagger, will you?”

“Ha ha,” he said flatly. “Very funny. Seriously though, are you sure about this?”

“What’s to be not sure about?” she said. With some effort, she pulled the jars of medicinal salve out of the depths of her bag and squished her clothes down to the bottom instead. 

Alistair shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just… won’t you be, you know, bored?”

Yara raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think I’d be bored?”

“Because I won’t be there,” he said. He pulled a mock-sad face. “You’re going to miss my amazing impressions, you know. I just perfected my sober Oghren impression and everything.” 

Yara smiled. “I will miss your impressions, it’s true. But I’ll manage. Sten will keep me company.”

Alistair grimaced. “That’s… kind of my point, actually. It’s Sten. He’s not exactly the most entertaining company you could keep.”

She huffed in amusement. “If I was looking to be entertained, I’d just stay here with Anora’s new court jesters over there.” She jerked her chin at Denerim’s central marketplace – or rather, the spot where the central marketplace used to be before the darkspawn horde had arrived. The darkspawn were gone now, but so was the collection of colourful merchants’ stands that had once stood there. Instead, the remains of a barricade had been piled into an impromptu stage, and on the stage stood Zevran and Oghren, who were entertaining a large and laughing crowd with some sort of increasingly lewd back-and-forth of riffing and insults.

“So what are you looking for, exactly?” Alistair said. 

His tone was serious now. Yara finally paused in her packing to meet his eye. “I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

He raised his eyebrows. “And you think that sailing across the entire Amaranthine Ocean with Sten will help you figure it out?”

She gave him a small awkward smile. Alistair’s tone was still serious, as though he was really trying to understand where she was coming from. And although she appreciated his concern, she… well, she didn’t have an answer for him.

“I… don’t know,” she said again. “Honestly, I’m still surprised he said I could go with him.” 

“I’m still surprised you even asked,” Alistair said.

“So am I,” Yara said wryly. 

“So why did you?” he pressed.

She let out a little laugh. “I don’t know,” she said. In truth, she still wasn’t sure what exactly had compelled her to invite herself on Sten’s journey home. One second he was telling her what the infrequent celebrations were like among his people back home. The next second, Yara was asking to go with him, and he was actually agreeing. 

And for reasons that Yara genuinely wasn’t sure of, the idea of sailing off to a completely foreign land with Sten was the most appealing idea she’d had since all of this Grey Warden business had begun. 

Alistair scoffed. “And we’re back to the start. Maybe it is good that you’re going with him. You both talk in circles so often it makes me dizzy.”

She chuckled. “Thanks. I think.” She rose to her feet and hefted her bag into her shoulder. “Where are you going next, then? Are you going to try and find the other Wardens?”

“Actually,” he said brightly, “I thought that me and Oghren and Zevran could travel the country as a triple act. It’s already a set-up for a joke. Zevran had a really good one, actually, did you hear it? A human, an elf and a dwarf are going for a stroll when they stop by the side of a river to relieve themselves–”

Yara gave him a chiding look. “Alistair.”

He tutted. “All right, all right, you got me. Leliana’s going to teach me to become a bard. Can I practice my singing with you? I just need to warm up first.” He cleared his throat loudly, then placed one hand on his chest and began to sing. “Oh, there once was a maiden I wanted to kiss, but she worked in a tavern that smelled just like–”

Yara laughed and pinched his arm. “Alistair!”

He laughed as well, then sighed. “All right, all right, yes, I’m going to join up with the other Wardens. They’re still on their way here from Orlais, so we’ll run into each other, I’m sure.” He tilted his head. “Write to me when you get back, all right? Maybe they’ll let us keep working together. It would be nice to travel with someone who can actually cook.”

Yara hesitated, and Alistair’s smile faded. “Wait. You’re not… you’re not actually going to stay in Seheron, are you?”

She steadily returned his gaze. “I don’t know,” she said quietly.

He stared at her in silence for a moment. Then he stepped forward and hugged her. 

She hugged him back and closed her eyes. A few moments later, he sniffled.

Yara drew back slightly. “Are you crying?” she said softly. 

“No,” he said defensively. “I just – I smell something bad. I think it’s you. Did you step in Fen’ain’s you-know-what?”

His voice sounded distinctly muffled. Yara patted his shoulder. “Nope, no mabari poop. But it could be the darkspawn guts I rubbed on myself as an exotic perfume.” She patted his back and tried to release him, but he hugged her harder. 

“If you do come back, write to me right away, will you?” he said. “Actually, you should write to me from Seheron. Tell me all about your adventures becoming a wild jungle woman.”

She chuckled. “You’ll be the first person to hear about it if I do. You be careful, all right?” She patted his back once more, then stepped back from him. “Dareth shiral, lethallin.”

“You too,” he said softly. “Assuming that meant something nice and not ‘you’re a stupid stinky human’.”

She gave him a tiny wink. “Would it be inaccurate if that’s what I said?” 

He laughed, and Yara smiled at him one last time before turning away. She pulled up her hood to hide her long red hair and began silently threading her way through the market toward the docks.

Before she got more than thirty paces, Zevran sidled up to her with Oghren close behind. “My dear Grey Warden,” he purred. “You didn’t think you could slip away from the great Zevran without a farewell, did you?”

“Aye, the elf is right,” Oghren said. “You thought you could – burp – go sailing off without sharing a drink with us?”

Yara gave him a knowing look. “Does sharing a drink with you mean another sip of that horrible liquor you carry around?”

He pouted. “Not if you’re gonna talk about it like that.”

Zevran grimaced at Yara. “You had some of that swill he carries around? He offered it to you?”

She smiled. “I can’t tell if you’re more upset that I had some, or that he didn’t offer you any.”

“The former, of course,” he said. “I have nothing but a sincere concern for your health.”

Oghren harrumphed. “You’re just jealous you never got to take a swig of old Oghren’s special homemade brew.”

Yara raised her eyebrows, and Zevran laughed. “I assure you I have no interest whatsoever in your… special homemade brew.”

His tone was suggestive and pointed. Oghren blinked at him blearily for a moment before wrinkling his nose. “Aw, I didn’t mean–” He gave Zevran a look of deep disgust. “Not in a million years, you dirty Antivan nug-licker.”

Zevran gave him an exaggerated bow. “The sentiment is entirely shared, my pungent friend.”

Yara gave them an exasperated smirk. “Is there any particular reason you two are following me to the docks? Are you coming to Seheron too?”

Zevran laughed lightly. “I think not. We have no interest in floating Sten’s boat.”

Oghren loudly guffawed. “Aye, we’re not the ones who wanna polish Sten’s oars.”

Zevran grinned at him, then turned back to Yara. “It’s true. We aren’t interested in scouring his deck or trimming his sails.”

Oghren snorted some liquor through his nose, then hastily wiped his face. “Or – or, uh, what’s-it-called, what’s the word – manning his helm! Hah!”

Zevran burst out laughing and clapped Oghren on the shoulder. “I can’t believe you remembered that one. I’m so very proud.”

Yara pressed her lips together hard to stop herself from laughing, then gave them both a chiding look. “Is that what you two have been doing all day? Coming up with dirty nautical one-liners?”

“Not at all,” Zevran said smoothly. “I picked a few pockets as well.”

“And I won another bet against that smug bastard Teagan,” Oghren said proudly. “He had to cough up five royals.” He patted the coin pouch on his belt – or rather, the spot on his belt where the coin pouch was supposed to be.

His eyes went wide. “Wait. Where’s my…” He trailed off and looked up at Zevran with a scowl. “You!”

Zevran innocently held up the pilfered coin pouch. “Come now, you made it frightfully easy.”

“Give me that!” Oghren snapped, and he snatched the pouch from Zevran’s fingers. “Thieving pointy-eared ponce.”

Zevran snickered. Then Yara stopped and turned to them. “All right, boys, we’re here. This is where I leave you.”

“So it is,” Zevran said. He took Yara’s hand and bowed gallantly, finishing the bow with a light kiss to the back of her hand. “As we say back home, bonne niviati. I wish you a very rocky journey with the sea pounding against your prow, if that is your desire.”

Oghren chuckled. “Aye. And I hope you get to rut with the qunari too.”

Zevran snorted delicately, and Yara tsked. “Is sex the only thing you two ever think about?”

“It should be,” Zevran retorted. “If all anyone ever thought about was sex, what a fine world this would be, no?”

“Why are you goin’ to Seheron, by the way?” Oghren asked suddenly. 

Yara looked at him. He was swaying slightly on his feet, but his expression was surprisingly sober. 

She gave him a small smile. “You follow me from the market all the way to the docks, and this is when you decide to ask me this?”

“You know what, the dwarf makes a fair point,” Zevran said. “It seems rather unlike you to sail away like this. I would have thought you would continue your Wardenly duties.”

Yara blinked at him. “You think it’s a bad idea for me to leave my Warden duties?”

“It’s not that,” Zevran said. “It’s simply… not like you.”

Her belly twisted slightly. He wasn’t wrong. Everything she’d done in the past year had been in the service of the Wardens. And even before that, she’d always done her best to serve the needs of her clan. The one time she’d done something even a little selfish was when she’d followed Tamlen into those ruins…

Tamlen. Her gut twisted again, this time with guilt and grief along with uncertainty. And as always, she pushed the feelings aside. No time, no point, she thought. Instead, she smiled at Zevran. “Are you calling me boring?” she said.

To her mild dismay, he didn’t smile. “Not at all,” he said. “I am calling you a woman of duty and honour. Dashing off on an impulsive adventure to a strange land where you’ve never been before, at great risk to yourself?” He shrugged elegantly. “You can see why I might express a concern.”

“It worked out well enough for you,” she reasoned.

“I had the great fortune of being defeated and dominated by you, my dear,” he said. Then he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Though it seems you might be able to claim the same fortune with our giant stoic friend, if you flex your feminine charms. Of which you have many, might I add.” He slid a salacious look over her body. 

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Yara said wryly. She playfully tweaked his ear. “Be good, all right?”

“Impossible,” he purred.

Yara gave him a chiding look. “It’s not, and you know it.” She turned and smiled down at Oghren. “And you. Be kind to Felsi–”

“Hey, not so fast,” he interrupted. “You didn’t tell us why you’re goin’ on this trip. If you’re not trying to climb the qunari, then what’s the big idea?”

Yara sighed and pushed back her hood. “I… don’t really know,” she said.

Zevran and Oghren raised their eyebrows, and Yara shrugged helplessly. “I just… it just feels like the thing to do. Call it a gut feeling.”

Oghren nodded slowly. “All right, a gut feeling. I can see that. I get those sometimes. That’s how I knew I had to leave Orzammar.” He scratched his chin. “Though sometimes it just means I have to drop a load.”

Yara barked out a surprised laugh. Zevran lifted his eyes to the sky for patience, then gave Yara a charming smile. “On that delicate note: farewell, Yara Mahariel. May you find that which you seek during your journey.”

“Aye,” Oghren said. “Find whatever you’re looking for, you hear?”

“I will,” Yara said. “I hope.” She playfully tugged Oghren’s braided beard, then gave them both a warning look. “Be good, both of you.” 

Zevran winked roguishly, and Oghren chuckled. Yara smiled at them, then turned and made her way along the docks toward the Rivaini ship that Sten had hired for his journey home.

Sten was waiting for her with his customary stern expression, but he wasn’t alone: Fen’ain was sitting at his feet. As soon as the mabari caught sight of Yara, his tail started to wag, but Sten spoke to him before he could move. 

“Remember what we discussed,” he said sternly.

Fen’ain shifted slightly but remained seated at Sten’s feet, and Yara smiled at Sten as she approached them. “You’re the only other person that Fen’ain listens to other than me,” she told him.

“This mabari follows wisdom and strength,” Sten replied. “It is a shame that humans are not more like him.” 

Yara huffed in amusement. Then Sten folded his arms. “I was not aware the mabari would be accompanying us as well.”

She winced. “Is that a problem? Can mabari not come on the ship?”

“They can,” Sten said. “But he must remain on the deck. I will not have his smell in our cabin.”

Her belly jolted in a funny way. “Our cabin?” she said.

Sten nodded. “I paid for one berth. I did not expect company during the journey. You are welcome to share with me, or you can arrange for your own place to sleep.”

Her mouth was suddenly dry. Somehow she hadn’t thought about the logistics of what it would mean to travel on a ship with Sten. Not that she’d really thought about any of this at all, but still – the idea of sleeping in the same cabin with him…

She glanced at the Rivaini ship. It wasn’t that big. Did cabins on Rivaini ships have more than one bed? Did they even have beds, or did people sleep in hammocks or something of the like?

Her mind was spinning, but Sten was waiting for an answer. She licked her lips. “You… don’t mind sharing with me?”

He frowned. “Why would I mind?”

“I don’t know,” she said. Then she laughed nervously. This seemed to be the only thing she could say today.

He continued to frown at her for a moment longer, then shrugged and unfolded his arms. “I’ve grown accustomed to your presence at night in camp. You are welcome to stay.”

She smiled at him. “It almost sounds like you enjoy my company, Sten.”

He peered carefully at her. “Is that flirting?”

She burst out a surprised laugh. Fenedhis, her cheeks were turning warm. “Why, um… why would you say that?” she said.

“The other elf advised me to look for it,” Sten said. “Was that flirting?”

Bloody Zevran, Yara thought. She swallowed before replying. “Maybe,” she admitted. “I… I don’t know.”

Sten lifted his chin slightly. “It seems that there is a lot you don’t know, kadan.”

She laughed and idly tugged a lock of her hair. “So it seems,” she said ruefully.

He studied her silently in that way he had, like she was a puzzle that he was trying to solve, and Yara waited tensely for him to speak. Usually she didn’t mind his silence; it was one of the first things that Yara had come to appreciate about him, in fact. 

That wasn’t to say she was bothered by everyone else’s talking. She enjoyed the others’ chatter, and the moments when they’d sat by the campfire talking together as a group were the moments when she’d felt most at home. In those precious moments, when Leliana was strumming her lute and Wynne was knitting a scarf and softly scolding Alistair while Zevran and Oghren insulted each other, Yara could almost fool herself into thinking that this was similar to sitting with Tamlen and Ashalle and Fenarel while listening to Hah’ren Paivel’s stories after the evening meal with her clan. 

But as time went on, with the Ferelden civil war and the Blight growing more urgent and more gruesome, Yara had found herself gravitating more and more toward Sten. There was something about his stillness that called to her: the aura of calm that he maintained, no matter how terrible things became. Whether they were in Redcliffe trying to deal with demons, or being ambushed by bandits or darkspawn or giant spiders while travelling or while trying to find their way through the damned Deep Roads, Sten always maintained this enviable sense of quiet, even though Yara knew he was constantly thinking and processing everything that was going on. Even when he was irritated, even when he made his sarcastic remarks and questioned her actions, he still had this perfect sense of stillness and calm.

And Yara, in turn, found herself feeling more calm when she was around him.

At this moment, however, she wasn’t feeling particularly calm. Sten was still studying her with his particular brand of focused curiosity, and her heart was thrumming in an unnerving sort of way. 

Worse yet, now she couldn’t stop thinking about Zevran and Oghren’s stupid nautical dirty one-liners.

She finally caved in and spoke first. “So, er, how long is the journey to Seheron?”

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “We are not going to Seheron. We are going to Par Vollen.”

She blinked at him in genuine surprise. “We are?”

“Yes,” he said. “I must report to the Arishok.”

“Oh,” she said. “No, I mean, yes – o-of course. That makes sense.” She rubbed her nose, feeling foolish for not realizing that Par Vollen would be their destination. But her chest was really jangling with nerves now. Going to the war-torn island of Seheron was one thing; she couldn’t imagine that stepping into a perpetual war zone would feel that much different than the horrors of the past year. Going straight to the qunari homeland was another matter, however.

“You are afraid,” Sten said.

He was frowning once more. Yara squared her shoulders. “Yes,” she said truthfully. “But I’m still going to come with you.”

His expression softened slightly. “It is good to master your fear. Your courage does you credit. I will show you our cabin.” He took a step toward the gangplank.

“Oh,” Yara said quickly. “Before I forget, I – I brought you something.” She shrugged off her bag and pulled out a rectangular packet wrapped in a piece of thin cotton cloth, then handed the packet to Sten.

He untied the cotton cloth and peeled back the corner of the protective waxcloth. “What is…” He trailed off, and his eyebrows rose.

“It’s cake,” Yara explained. “Dalish fruit cake. I made it last night. To make up for the lack of cake at the feast.” 

Sten blinked, then lifted his gaze from the cake to her face. “Thank you.”

She waved dismissively. “I hope you like it,” she said. “It’s – I had to improvise a bit because there was no butter left in Eamon’s kitchen, not after the big feast, so I had to use applesauce which isn’t nearly the same, but–”

Sten interrupted her. “I like it,” he said.

She cocked her head to the side. “You haven’t even had any yet.”

“It is a thoughtful gift,” he said. “I appreciate it, kadan.”

His tone was slightly softer than usual, and Yara’s heart fluttered with pleasure. She smiled at him. “You’re welcome, Sten.”

He nodded, then carefully wrapped the waxcloth back over the cake. “I might even share it.”

She chuckled. “I would hope so. It’s a rather large cake.”

“I am a large person,” he said. “Compared to the rest of you bas, at least.” He jerked his chin at Fen’ain, who was still sitting attentively at his feet. “Go.”

Fen’ain bolted up the gangplank onto the ship. Sten looked at Yara once more. “Are you ready to depart?”

Yara took a deep breath and glanced back at the Denerim docks, which were bustling with activity. People were cleaning debris from the darkspawn destruction, using fishing nets to drag debris from the water and repairing broken boats at the dock and calling out to each other, and their children were running around and shouting and playing despite the mess. There were Chantry sisters and brothers giving out food and reciting bits of the Chant, and a few opportunistic merchants trying to sell goods that had likely been gained by ill means, and it was all so incredibly loud. 

She turned to Sten, who was standing silently at her side. She looked up into his stern violet eyes and nodded. “Yes,” said. “I’m ready.” 

[paulsmashedpotato]

Hey, could I request 11 and 13 from the song lyric phrase thing with Paul please? I'm in need of some ~ a n g s t~ thank you, and if you're too busy that's okay!

Additional: Aaah I just sent in the paul request, could you use the name paige? :> if not, then y/n is fine!!

I'm sorry this is lame ksksksks o(╥﹏╥)o

Note: I've written it in third-person, let me know if you want it edited to first or if I should just use "You" words instead and still with Paige as the name. :-))

Prompt List

Masterlist

Different Worlds

Part 1 | Part 2 (Otw)

Pairing: Paul McCartney x a named character/reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Noneeee

“Where are we going?” Paige asked, looking around nervously, checking if someone could see them although it was already dark out and there were barely people out this late at night. “Shh, just follow me.” Paul replied in a shushing voice, continuing to pull her to wherever he was planning to take them. “Did you sneak out your room again?” She wondered although she already knew the answer to that. “Doesn’t matter. I got out, didn’t I? And no one’s chasing me.” Paul replied in a proud voice, “Don’t worry, I’m sure the landlady won’t tell on me.”

“Paul, you know you’ll get in trouble for this.” Paige said in a serious tone.

Paul is a famous singer with a really, really strict manager. He just wishes he read his contract properly before signing. He wasn’t allowed to date anyone whom the manager thinks is ‘undeserving’. He’s been trying to sign Paul up with other celebrities to make him even more famous but he’s been denying all of them — which of course the manager hated but he did agree with Paul’s decision so long as he doesn’t date anyone else without the manager’s approval.

At least that’s what he thinks Paul is doing.

Paige met Paul at a bar eight months ago, she didn’t know it was him, he was dressed messily, chains and ripped jeans, a black cotton mask and a hat, he looked very different from how he’s portrayed usually — wearing a neat suit and tie. He came up to her and started making conversation, she doesn’t even remember how it went on through the night but it just started with “I like your Cobain shirt.”

How they decided to meet again the next day and him showing up in a clean polo shirt saying he was the one she was talking to last night and her trying her best not to panic and fangirl was history.

They were able to be friends and hang out a lot until rumours started going around saying Paul had a non-celebrity girlfriend and of course, the manager didn’t like that and he even confronted her, offering money and all that saying she should move out and he even promised her a nice flat in New York.

Paul was furious when he heard about this. She didn’t want to tell him but he’s been asking her every hour why she was being distant all of a sudden and she just had to give in.

“Close your eyes —“

“No, you need to go back, Paul.” She said in a stern voice. “Close your eyes, please, Paige.” Paul practically whined, hovering his hand over her eyes. She sighed before muttering ‘fine’ and closing her eyes.

Paul started pulling her carefully and after a moment, she felt him sit her down on a soft ground and she was about to open her eyes before Paul went screeching saying he’s not yet ready.

“Alright, open them now.” He grinned at her as her vision took a second to adjust after her eyes being tightly shut. Paige looked around, examining where they were, she peeked out the small tent, “Where are we?”

“Remember when I told you I sneaked out of my room in broad daylight and got caught? Well, I started running through the barricade we just went over at a while ago, and then I found this place. Very nice, peaceful and it has a good view as well.” He went on explaining how he had to trim the grass because it was full of overgrown weeds.

“Paul, we — you need to go home.” Paige said calmly. He frowned at her, “That’s what you’re going to say, really? Look around, it’s nice. I made us mashed potatoes, you said you liked it when I make it,” he giggled, “And — and, I bought your favourite soda, crisps, and I even bought you a stuffed animal, see, you said you liked (f/a) so I bought you one — just stuffed.”

Paige smiled sadly, “I really appreciate it Paul but I don’t want to get you in trouble. I might ruin your reputation and I don’t want that to happen.”

“No worries, I’ll talk to him, don’t worry. He won’t bother you again, I promise.” He said, pertaining to his manager, "And you won't ever ruin my whatever reputation it is you're talking about."

“You had a deal with him Paul —“

“I’ll cut it.”

“No —“ she sighed, “He’ll sue you. You’ll lose everything. That was a very expensive contract, Paul.”

“So? At least I'll still be with you.”

“That’s what’s wrong, Paul. You’re risking it for me — I can’t let you do that. Your career is more important, I could wait, I can wait, but right now, I want you to focus on your career.”

“You talked to him again, didn’t you?” He asked accusingly, though he was right. You did talk to his manager again. The guy was so hard to miss, he was at her work, he was at her flat, he was at the underground station waiting — how did he even know my schedule? She would wonder. “I did not.” She lied, “I was just thinking, it’s better if…”

She looked at his sad expression, waiting for her to finish what she was about to say, she smiled, “Nevermind. Let’s enjoy tonight. We’re here anyway.” She said, transferring beside Paul who seemed relieved and putting an arm around his waist, “What do you have planned for us tonight?”

“Just a date and a sleepover.” He said. “A sleepover?” She echoed, “We can’t do that. You’ll get into a lot of trouble if they see your room empty tomorrow.”

“What will they do? Ask me to cancel my tour? That’s good news, I’ll get to stay longer in this town with you.” He beamed, he raised his hand over Paige’s head and messed her hair playfully.

“Should we eat?” He asked, pointing at the food he prepared. “Sure.” She answered, sitting up properly.

The next hour was spent talking and eating, they even went outside and sat on the grass to gaze at the sky and just talk about dreams. Both of them just enjoying each other’s company, one knowing it’s the last and the other oblivious.

When they got back in the tent, she immediately lied down on the soft comforter with a heavy sigh, looking up at the starry sky through the mesh window.

“Are you okay?” Paul asked, lying beside her after he’s closed the tent flap. “F’course.” She smiled, “Better actually. This will be my favourite night.”

"You look sad." He mumbled, she cuddled up to him, an arm over his stomach and her face on the crook of his neck. "I'm not. I'm actually on cloud 9." She smiled, “You chose the best night to do this.” She said in a quiet voice. I just wish it could last. He pulled her in closer and hugged her, her face now on his chest.

“Soon we’ll be away from here.” She added, her voice a little muffled. “Why do you say that sadly? Like some type of goodbye.” He said, pushing her back gently so he could see her face. She slightly shook her head, “I’m just saying… we won’t have to worry about hiding and lying, we’ll be so, so far from where we are now.”

You’ll be far from where I’m putting you right now.

“I can’t wait for that to happen.” He said, wrapping her up in a hug again. “We should get some sleep.” She said. “You’ll be here when I wake up, yeah?” He asked, his chin buried lovingly on her hair.

“Of course.” She whispered, a single tear dripping out her eye. “Goodnight, Paul.”

“Goodnight, Paige.”

They did have a good night. She thought it might make up for her leaving him alone in the tent the next morning. She thought it might make up for her leaving him permanently.

Paul waking up the next day with just a trace of her scent on the sheets and a letter near the tent flap.

Dearest Paul,

I know you’ll hate me for this but that’s fine, I just want to do what’s best for you. I know you're thinking that I'm wrong but you're just not realizing it yet, and you won't ever realize what's best for you if I stay beside you.

Your career, that’s what I want you to worry about, Paul, not me, not us. Remember when I told you I want to see you succeed and perform in front of loads and loads of people? Getting in the way and causing you to be carefree to the point that you'd risk your dream for me is really contradicting.

You’re the best star I’ve ever seen and I would’ve loved to keep you if I could only reach you.

I’m sorry. I really am and I love you, please don’t ever think otherwise. I really do love you, Paul.

I know you'll understand me one day. I hope to cross paths with you again in the future, when time's right.

Yours forever,

Paige.

-end-

Here please let Paul McBeardy make up for it (个_个)

P.s - As always, I'll be adding keep reading next time when I've got a hold of a laptop.

[chilling-seavey]

Amoureux (c.s./d.s.) - Chapter Twenty

A/N How’s #TeamChristian feeling right about now? Or maybe I should ask #TeamDaniel...?

It took Louisa a while to calm herself down after her argument with Daniel, some part of her feeling a tad broken herself but she forced herself to focus on the goal of the day: Getting herself married. She really could have used a reassuring hug from Christian but the next time she was going to see him was when she was walking down the aisle. At 10am, Mary helped Louisa down the grand staircase of the palace, the sixteen-year-old girl absolutely beaming. The butlers and guards lined the foyer to catch a glimpse of the bride on her way off to the Abbey and they bowed to her as she passed, everyone admiring her adoringly.

Jack and Zach opened the carriage doors for her and Jonah was stood nearby to give her a hand into it, the two young guards carefully holding the train of her dress so she wouldn’t step on it. Louisa got herself carefully sitting in the carriage and said her quick goodbye to Mary, her lady in waiting giving her hand a squeeze before Jonah was climbing into the carriage beside her.

Jack and Zach closed the doors and with a sharp snap from the driver, the horses took off towards the Abbey. Jonah was going to be the one to walk Louisa down the aisle since his stature as right-hand-man to the King was so respected and there were no other men in the Royal Family to take on that role. Jonah’s uniform was similar to Daniels except he was in dark navy instead of red but everything down to the epaulets and the sword on his belt were quite the same. They didn’t speak on the ride over, Louisa busying herself with staring out the window as her stomach twisted with nervousness and her heart felt like it might beat right out of her chest.

When the horses came to a stop outside Westminster Abbey, crowds had already gathered behind lines of Royal Guards and Policemen that created a pathway for her into the church. Jonah stepped out of the carriage first and held out his hand to Louisa who set her in his and took a carful step out onto the front steps of the church. Two of the young page boys rushed to help carry her long veil up the steps to keep it from dragging on the dirty outdoor ground. They smoothed it carefully over the floor of the foyer to the church and she thanked them softly as they rushed back to their positions at the front of the congregation.

“Are you ready to be Princess Louisa of England?” Jonah asked quietly through a kind smile as she set her hand in his arm.

“Quite.” Louisa smiled, not wanting to answer with a lengthy question as she felt her stomach turn with anxiousness.

“Wedding jitters.” Jonah chuckled as he could feel her hand trembling against his arm, and he set a hand on hers. “All normal. Nothing to be nervous about. His Royal Highness is still the same man with whom you fell in love.”

Louisa sent Jonah her most convincing smile.

The organ began to play and the packed crowd that filled the church stood up to await the entrance of the Royal bride. The page boys opened the large double doors and Louisa and Jonah started their long walk down the aisle. Hundreds upon hundreds of faces were staring back at her as Louisa walked towards her future, people she recognised from their galas but most she didn’t remember even meeting at all.

They closer they got to the front of the church, the more faces she recognised; the young couple from the gala who Louisa had taken a liking to, a few of the King’s men in their military uniforms, Jonah’s own wife who had visited the palace a few times herself and Louisa could see him smile widely at her as they walked. Louisa only hoped Christian would still look at her like that through the years. She was to be married among strangers with not even her own mother and father present. She belonged to England now.

The King and Queen were sat right at the front with Anna at their side and they were already turned and looking at her when she saw them. Anna absolutely beamed at her.

Daniel turned around expressionlessly and let his eyes fall on her before turning to face forward again, his hands locked behind his back. Louisa tried to hide her hurt.

It was easy to, however, when Christian finally turned to face her, dressed in a red suit dripped in gold, looking more handsome and polished than she had ever seen him before. Simply the sight of him made her heart skip a beat and his wide smile mirrored hers.

Christian took a step down from the alter to take her hand from Jonah who returned to his seat with his wife.

“You look absolutely beautiful.” Christian whispered as they took their place in front of the bishop.

“You as well.” Louisa smiled, still anxiously holding back her breakfast. She could feel herself trembling, but Christian kissed the back of her hand as if to settle her.

They stood face to face, hand in hand, and the crowd sat as the bishop began the ceremony.

“Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and in the face of this congregation to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”

They began with a prayer, although Louisa was too busy with her eyes focussed on the curling gold details of Christian’s suit jacket and his high white collar donned with a red tie and gold trim. Christian could see her wide eyes zoning out and he gave her hands a squeeze to bring her back to reality.

As the prayer came to a close, Louisa started to realize what she was so anxious for and as the bishop spoke his next lines, she held her breath and prayed for peace.

“Into the Lord’s Holy Estate these two persons come together to be joined as one. If any man can offer any just cause as to why these two may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak. Or else, here after, let him forever hold his peace.”

The silence was ringing in Louisa’s ears and the five seconds of pause was dreadfully terrifying to her. She waited for Daniel to stand up in front of everyone and confess her sins to the entire congregation, but he didn’t.

She looked out into the crowd and spotted him right away, his arms crossed over his chest and a chilling glare shooting daggers right into her. She took a small breath and looked back to Christian with a smile.

The bishop continued, “I require and charge you both as you will answer on the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all our hearts shall be disclosed. If either of you know of any in impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, now confess it.”

Louisa could have sworn she heard Daniel scoff, although it could have been someone coughing, but she kept quiet, sharing a sweet smile with her groom.

Soon it was time for the vows, the bishop reciting them to the man first, “Christian John, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together according to God’s law in the holiest state of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, protect her, and keep her in sickness and in health and keep only unto her so long as ye both shall live?”

Christian was absolutely beaming and he ran his thumbs over Louisa’s hands in his as he replied, “I will.”

Louisa felt her heart soar and she bit back her smile, her nerves starting to disappear.

The bishop turned to her now, “Louisa Arielle, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together according to God’s law in the holiest state of matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, serve him, honour him, and keep him in sickness and in health and keep only unto him so long as ye both shall live?”

Louisa gave Christian’s hands a squeeze and opened her mouth to respond but she was interrupted by a sudden,

“Ok, I’m sorry. I can’t watch this.”

Everyone turned to Daniel who was standing up despite his mother’s desperate attempts to pull him back down under her stern glare. The young prince laughed humourlessly under everyone’s angry stares, especially Christian who looked like he was about ready to kill his little brother on the spot.

“I tried to shut up but I cannot watch my brother marry her.” Daniel told the entire church, his voice echoing over the stone walls and reaching all the way up to the ceiling. His voice was filled with nothing but anger and sorrow and he turned back to look at the alter where Christian and Louisa still stood hand in hand. The bride’s face was a sickening pale.

“Daniel, sit down!” The King said through his teeth.

“No, father.” Daniel retorted, narrowing his eyes at the couple. “Christian deserves to know.”

Christian had never looked so angry in his life, absolute hatred for his brother coursing through his veins, never being able to have one nice thing without him ruining it. His wedding was apparently no different.

Daniel continued, “My dear, sweet, naïve older brother deserves to know that his bride doesn’t love him like he thinks she does.”

“Oh, shut up, Daniel!” Christian snapped.

“No! I won’t shut up!” Daniel yelled back, cutting him off before he could even retaliate. “I can’t let you both make a mess of yourselves. Not when Louisa doesn’t love you like she loves me!”

“Grow up!” Christian shouted, his voice booming through the church.

Every single guest was silent.

“You grow up!” Daniel retorted. “You’re too goddamn dense to know your fiancé was making out with your brother for months! Right in front of your nose! Sneaking out of parties and tiptoeing around the palace, kissing me and touching me and moaning my name, telling me how you didn’t compare. Well I’m not going to sit back and stay quiet like everyone always tells me to while you go and marry the woman I love. I don’t think you want to live with the fact that your wife slept with your brother.”

Gasps filled the church and Christian whipped his head back to look at Louisa. The expression in his eyes sent chills tearing down her body, his eyebrows narrowed in near fury, blue eyes filled with rage and a hint of heartache, his cheeks flushed red. She could only gape at him, her words abandoning her, her breath abandoning her, and she felt faint.

Christian’s expression of pure anger moulded into that of disgust and he snatched his hands out of hers as if she was diseased.

“Christian.” Louisa’s voice wavered, barely audible, she could barely even hear herself saying his name. He took one last look at Daniel and then one last look at Louisa before turning and walking right back down the aisle, his boots echoing each footstep against the marble floor through the entire church, head bowed.

Everyone was staring at Louisa, every single eye on her in the entire building, but she could only stare at Christian’s back disappearing out the door and into the sunlight.

[benjimirthursby]

“Alliances Tempered.”  The Book of Thursby: Scions of Numenor [SB]

*Intended originally to publish as one work under the FFXIV Write event.  But I couldn’t get past the half-way mark before the deadline.  So I trimmed the post to the epigraph.  The full work is posted now as a non-entry. “Truth is a sacrament of lies, proffered by ministers of fear.  It is an exercise in asserting control, not the betterment of the soul or wisdom.  People seek truth to gain comfort and in doing so drive away fear from uncertainty.  Control gives comfort of an insidious sort.  Control breeds a craving to flee the fear of losing control which comes with it.  Those who hold sway over one will seek many and ever greater comfort to sate this fear.” 

~Loxonica Omber, “Observations through the Dark Crystal.”

A mechanical lift in Ul’Dah seemed almost out of place to Benjimir.  It was one of many things that seemed utterly in contradiction to each other.  An ancient citadel illuminated by flame and wick with lifts such as this.  Airships hoisted aloft by bags of gas docked alongside others of high craft using forces of nature to defy gravity.  Winged beasts of burdon toting people and goods hither and yon along roads traveled by flying mounts of metal and technocraft.  No singular craft held sway over these lands.  There was a seamless, unlikely harmony to all of it however.  

From the Dapper Mainer these details were rendered unnoticeable by the height the dinning room held above the lower levels of the city.  Brightly decorated with white painted alls and tapestries of airships, it evoked the theme of travel by the vessels which docked and departed from the port a few levels above it.  Even as Benjimir and his brothers were taken to their table from the matre’d station a rotund airship, slung under great beige bags of Ceruleum infused gas descended across the view of the main bay of windows.  The ship cast a shadow which for a moment left the room to the light of candles and lamps already lit about the tables and walls. For this moment the room shifted from the light orange hue of the setting sun to white.  The trim from black to a rich green hue.  Even the tapestries seemed to change as if they were created in matching palettes.  As the ship continued on and unsheathed the sunsets light again the room resumed the richer color scheme.

“Brilliant.”  Benjimir said as he took his seat.  

Tinifalas looked about and smiled.  “Unique in Ul’Dah, pity it is not open to all.” he said as he picked up the single panel menu.

“Whom has access?” Benjimir asked.

“Select passengers aboard airships, officers of Grand Companies, select Free Companies and those with ties to airship industry and trade.”  Bondermir said and looked about the room.  As yet it was early for the dinner hour, no passengers vessels were docked, and their guests were only now debarking the large airship-of-the-line which they arrived aboard.  As such the room was unoccupied as yet.  Soft orchestral music played over a device near the kitchen door.  “So you’ve both met our guest before, tell me something of what to expect.” Benjimir asked towards his brothers as the lift’s works stirred to life.

“The admiral is no diplomat but has a practical and even handed approach.  She has a seafarers eloquence but speaks plainly as a rule.” Bondermir offered.  Tinifalas agreed.  “She and T’subaki are surely kindred spirits, if cut from different cloth.”

“Not much of Aubreen’s sort of cloth to cut from anymore.” Benjimir lamented.  The lift’s works paused their action.  Aubreen T’subaki was of the long lived races and the most trusted source of council to the House of Thursby since time out of memory.  She had taught generations of Thursby’s and fleet officers over ages as the eldest authority on nautical traditions and warfare.  She was Benjimir’s oldest friend and mentor “up well.” Her race bore time well, scarcely suggesting their age in appearance.  Her sharp sloping ears suggested she was of the Elezan race native to Eorzea, though she was well shorter and femininely curved than any example to be found.  

Aubreen had gone “down well” at Benjimir’s behest after the first reports from Tinifalas arrived five years earlier.  Bondermir was sent to take on the role of master of spies and business, it became clear freedom of movement and commerce across Hydalen would require more than wagons.  Her task was to lay roots for a merchant marine, along with protection for ships, crewing needs, and at sea, a means to guard against threats on it.

Maelstrom being as near to a formal authority at sea as could be found, had common interests with the Thursby Company.  These were in restoring commerce, checking raiders at sea and shore, and an economy of scale of having common services made an effective partnership.  Aubreen parlayed a single ship’s service into friendly relations and eventually alliance between Maelstrom and the Thursby Company.  Much had been bore of that relationship.

Aubreen took brought with her a cadre of promising officers to her task.  Now, most were commanding their own ships or stations.  Training Maelstrom officers had itself become a means to furthering favors and relations with the Grand Company.

The previous years saw Aubreen lead Maelstrom and Thursby ships alike in combat and to victory.  With victory came trust.  Old tonnage bought and leased from the Grand Company, a concept new to them.  Calamity wrecked ship yards were negotiated into the fold of the Thursby Company.  Much of this was guided by Benjimir from afar.  His name and seal near even as he was years from Ul'dah.  

The lift’s works stirred again and soon stopped.  The doors parted and out of it emerged a pair of crimson uniformed guards who took posts on either side the doors.  Next came forth a tall, stately, fetching woman, with silver hair and porcelain hued skin.  Her red epaulets displayed her rank insignia on a pitch black uniform jacket which bore a modest sum of chest and cleavage.  Knee high polished leather boots and twin pistols left no question of her identity.  Admiral Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn of Maelstrom.  

From behind Bloefhiswyn emerged Aubreen, clad in a deep navy blue uniform jacket akin to the admirals.  This, to Benjimir’s surprise, shared the display of cleavage new to any who knew her before coming to these shores.  The jacket skirted higher on her legs however, exposing traditional white slacks tucked into matt black cavalier style boots.  Her skin bore a traditional hue of flesh that did not reflect the suns hours on it.  Her snow white hair made and few slight lines on her face gave the only hints of age. 

“A most striking couple.” Benjimir thought aloud and unintentionally.  Bondermir suppressed a grin.  “Strikely surely, but not a couple.  The commodore has taken up with another.” he said to Benjimir as Aubreen led the admiral across the room.

“Eh?” Benjimir said.  Tinifalas tipped his head toward his brother and whispered. “Captain Vaunter.”  Benjimir’s eyes flared and head turned involuntarily.

“No...really?” he said, extending the last syllabi, almost unable to contain his voice.  He smiled and shook his head.  “Wouldn’t have thought it, but these are new days we live in.”  Aubreen had not taken a partner in anybody's lifetime and Katryn Vaunter was an unlikely pairing, especially being an officer under her and as Benjimir's protege.  But these were not past days.

Aubreen and Bloefhiswyn stood before the Thursby brothers.  As a flag officer here at Aubreen's invitation Benjimir greeted the admiral first and offered seats to them. 

Orders place and drinks in hand it was Bloefhiswyn who opened the discussion.  “Five years, much blood and gil, what brings you to shore now?”  she asked.

“I row slow,” Benjimir replied prompting a smile from Bloehiswyn.  “More an inspection tour I think it is best described as.  I think it is becoming prudent council to take-up a presence in the flesh, guide our families works nearer than at sea.”  He concluded.

Bloefhiswyn nodded slowly in acknowledgement and sipped the wine she ordered.  “And of matters our mutual concern and the future?  What comes next?” she asked.

Benjimir sat back in his chair and drank.  “It is our way to ply our trade and seek the betterment of those whom we can aid.  And the safe keep of our people and interests, that means having an eye on the future, preparing for dangers unseen.  For now, we will see through to the completion our joint work”  He explained to Bloefhiswyn.  She absorbed it all.

“But what comes next and what dangers do you foresee?  The sea lanes are soon to be secure, the fighting at large has abated for now.  Do you have plans for the fleet you have assembled, men you are training?”  Bloefhiswyn pressed.

“We’ve no ambitious to statehood or governance if that weighs on you mind.  Not our way as I know the Commodore and master Exidines have made clear.”  Benjimir remained relaxed in his chair, sipped his drink again.  “There are answers important to me, to our people, which we must divine.  As well as our mandate to stand against shadows where ever they show themselves. As it happens, they’ve shown themselves here.  As to future dangers?” Benjimir started, unconsciously slipping his hand to the Dagger of Warding on his belt.  “They’ll make themselves apparent in due course.  I believe our victories aside they’ve not abated since before the fall of Dalamud and their greatest challenge has yet to present itself.”  

Bloefhiswyn assumed a relaxed posture in her own chair, listening intently and nodding as Benjimir spoke.  “You suggest we are only seeing the start of troubles then?”  She said, lending forward.  Benjimir nodded.  “What course shall we set them mister Thursby?” She asked.

Benjimir sipped once more.  “Prepare in what ways we can to oppose what we are able too.  For now, you and I alike can only speculate what that might be.”  With that all at the table drew themselves up as the meal arrived.

Aubreen looked on silently.  Her gift of foresight was of no use to her on these shores.  She could only sense an approaching destiny with no shape or hue and a need to make peace with it.  In such times her thoughts turned to the young captain aboard the Andustar.  

*******