#excuse me sir i prefer those covered
Note
HIHIHIIHI!!! i luv luv LUVVVV your writing!! you're one of my favorite writers on this app fidhuhgseuhsdfsifj ><
may i request some fluff (or smut; whichever you prefer!) with leon wherein the reader is an artist, and she has this lil notebook filled to the brim with sketches (whether that be normal sketches or... spicy ones) of leon but she hasn't shown leon the notebook BUT he ends up finding it and teasing her??
AND (if you DO write it as smut) WHAT IF READER DREW SOME SKETCHES OF SEX POSITIONS AND LEON USES THOSE POSITIONS WHE THEY HAVE SEX!?!??!?!?!? I'M GOING CRAZY OVER THIS THOUGHT RN DJFHSIDFUHIU
keep up the good work with all the writing you do!! you're an amazing writer, and i hope you have a great day :>
Hello my angels!! Thank you guys again for 400 followers im forever grateful for you guys. i was so fond of this little plot i HAD to write but it’s def not my best. Happy monday <3
DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!
AFAB Artistic reader x Pre Re4 Leon
Warnings: Leon’s a little tease. Mentions of ripping clothing, couch sex, Leon’s pretty soft in this :)
Word count: 3,050
Meeting Leon was just a lucky coincidence, almost four years ago now. The worst job you swore you’d ever had, but that changed once you met Leon. Instead of typing the files in the computer, your foot tapped against the marble flooring.
“That’s really good.. Do you draw often?”
You slammed your notebook shut, scared your boss had caught you again. Your eyes glanced up to the man peering over the desk, a tight gray t-shirt on and a pair of cargo pants.
“So sorry, sir. Are you here for training?”
Your fingers pressed against the keys of your desktop as you stared up at him, waiting for an answer. He looked like his ego had been beaten down when you didn’t reply to him, nodding his head at you.
“Yeah, um, Kennedy, Leon.”
You wrote his name down on the paper, handing him the small slip with a grin.
———-
She was new, I think. Her hair was pulled into that pretty bun, dazed as ever. Pretty pencil skirt and an off-white long sleeve. Beautiful handwriting, too, Leon’s thumb brushing over the slip in his hand, pulling out his wallet to shove the slip inside.
The next day he hoped you’d be sitting there, looking bored out of your mind. His arm pushed against the heavy glass door; he couldn’t help but smile seeing you at your desk. Why is he smiling?
“Busy day?”
Leon couldn't help but smile as you jumped in your seat, slamming the notebook shut- again. Your little smile tugged at your glossed lips as you held at the pen, scribbling his name.
“Goodbye, Leon.”
Your teasing voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He grabbed the red slip in your hand, dragging the bag off your desk as he walked down the hall again.
——————
For days, even weeks after. Leon would always ensure he showed up early, fascinated by your presence and the way you scribbled his name on the notepad on your desk when he would say something to make you blush.
“Hey, so… remember that sushi restaurant I told you about?”
Leon’s first words as he walks up to the desk, placing his bag on your file as you roll your eyes, nodding up at him as you type something into the computer.
“What about it?”
You ask as you push your rolling chair back, waiting by the printer as it turns on. Your head leans back as you look at him. He looked handsome as ever today. His training was working, that’s for sure, his shoulders being so much broader and his arms becoming so defined with muscle.
“Well, today is my last day of training. Did you want to go out with me as a celebration?”
It wasn’t for celebration; Leon just finally had an excuse to ask you out. Spending almost three months talking to you and getting to know you, yet he has never asked you to dinner. Your face lit up as you rolled back to the computer, stapling the papers together and using it as an excuse to cover the bright red that invaded your cheeks.
“Sure- what time?”
You asked up to him, clearing your throat as your hand rubbed your cheek to make it seem like you weren’t blushing. Cute, Leon thought as his tongue brushed over his bottom lip.
“Seven? I can pick you up.”
Even offering to pick you up? Your heart was in your throat as you nodded shyly, smiling as you wrote your address on a sticky note and handed it to him.
“I’ll be ready.”
You handed him his pass along with the sticky note of your address, his eyes reading over the number over and over before he smiled at you, tapping your desk a few times and walking down the hall as he does every single day.
———-
Why so shaky? The knocking on your door echoed through your living room, your hands brushing through your hair again as you did a small circle in your mirror.
You thanked god you wore heels, quickly glancing through the peephole to see Leon. He made your heart jump just by standing there. You swore he looked you up and down when you opened the door- but this was one-sided. You were so in love with him. Your coworkers make fun of you when you’re on your break, eyes following him from the expansive open training rooms.
Obsession was a strong word- but even you could admit it was getting to the point of obsession. You hoped after he left the facility, you wouldn’t have to see him again, especially since it was his last day, but he just had to ask you to dinner, didn’t he?
“Are you ready?”
Leon asked as he looked around your apartment, scanning all the books on your shelf. You wanted to say yes, but your hand reached up, your eyebrows frowning as you noticed you weren’t wearing the necklace your brother had gotten you.
“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be back.”
He couldn’t help but watch you walk down your hallway, fingers tapping at your sides like at work. Snoopy, maybe. His eyes darted down to the notebook on your coffee table. It’s the one you always have on your desk. Light purple with random stickers all over the front and back. His fingers traced over where your name was carved before he looked down to the hall to check if he was clear to look through it. The first few pages are drawings of the statues at work, the plants, yourself, and your glossy lips. His eyebrows frowned at the empty pages, going on for almost five before he finally saw it. His name was written in your pretty cursive; below was the soft sketch of his face, his handsome smile, and the small indent in his chin. Sketch after sketch of him leaning over your desk with the cheekiest smile.
The next page sketches his lips, his tongue darting out slightly through the corner in one and pressed together in another. Sketches of the way his eyes sparkle next to them.
His slender fingers traced the page looking at the sketches of his arms, some with his knife in his hand, some just holding a water bottle. He peeped his head down the corner of the hallway again, hearing the echo of your voice on the phone. His fingers moved before his eyes as he flipped the page, his cheeks flushing a deep red at the sketches of his hands rubbing up your waist. Now he was paying attention, graphics of his fingers in your mouth, your legs thrown over his shoulders, his head thrown back, and his Adam’s apple more than prominent.
“Leon?”
You stuttered, your heart pounding against your chest. Your breath feels so caught in your throat, your eyes staring at his hands holding the spine of your notebook. You blink into reality, snatching the notebook from him as you firmly have it against your chest.
“Why.. would you go through my things..”
You laughed, embarrassed, as Leon stared at you. His presence was now super overwhelming. He just.. stared at you. Great, now he hates me? He thinks I’m so weird…
“Why’d you just leave it out?”
What? Jesus fucking Christ, what?
“It’s my apartment; what do you mean..”
You laugh bitterly as you push the notebook onto your shelf, your hands slightly shaking.
“I didn’t draw any of that. I left it at work for a few days, so maybe it was stolen or something.”
There we go. Perfect excuse. Leon’s feet shuffled till he was standing beside you, pulling the notebook off the shelf next to you.
“Alright, that’s understandable. If they aren’t yours, you wouldn’t mind me looking through them again.”
Your face flooded with embarrassment. Your back turned to him as your eyes squeezed shut at the sound of him flipping through the pages.
Leon felt his pants grow tighter at the sketch of your pretty folds wrapped around his cock, then the illustrations of just your pussy made his cock grow painfully harder, your eyes shifting between the notebook and the bookshelf. There were pages after pages of just Leon and you, sometimes just Leon, small notes here and there. The last page is a sketch of the two of you hugging and a small note
“Seven, Leon’s sushi place”
Leon, yet again, closed the notebook, laying it on the shelf as you held your arms, sighing at his silence. His hand rubbed your arm softly, taking your hand in his. He rocked behind you, resting his cheek on the side of your head.
“Cmon’ let’s go eat.”
———-
The drive back to your apartment was so silent. Your head spun as you looked out the window, admiring the pretty night sky. Leon’s handheld at your thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles on your smooth skin. Biting at your nails nervously, your head turns to Leon. Why did he have to be so handsome? Hand gripping the steering wheel, hair perfectly rested against his cheek. The white button-down he wore fit him so perfectly. He believed you, right? You felt guilt in your heart, thinking about how you sat at your desk, legs crossed so close together at the thought of Leon fucking you stupid. It’s not everyday you meet a man like him. You craved him, but you would never tell him that. Leon’s car stopped, your daydreaming stopping as he pulled his keys and shoved them in his pocket. What a gentleman, he opens your door for you, holding his hand out. Your hand grabbed at his as you stepped out, holding your purse to your side as you whispered a small thank you to him as you reached for your keys.
The two of you stopped in front of your door, your heart starting to ache at the thought of never seeing him at work again, all the conversations you guys have had. The silence was uncomfortable now; you looked up at Leon with a slight frown before you reached up and brought him in for a tight hug, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as he hugged you back.
“I’m going to miss seeing you every day.”
You laugh into his shoulder. He laughs back in response as he pulls away from the hug, your hand reaching to unlock your door as he watches you. You step inside your dark apartment, looking at him from the door with a gentle smile still on your face.
“I’ll call you, I promise.”
Leon speaks as he watches you stand against the door frame.
“Bye.”
“Bye, Leon.”
The door slams. Why are you going to cry? Is it because he thought you were a massive creep? You held onto the wall as you kicked off your heels, sighing in frustration as you threw your purse to the ground. Your body jumped at the pounding at the door. Though you were taught better, you swung it open. Leon stood his hands on his hips, staring at the ground.
“Le-“
Leon pushed his way into your apartment, his perfect hands cradling your face as he smashed his lips into yours. Your feet struggled to keep up with him moving you back into your living room. Where did this come from? His hands hungrily gripped at your hips, your thighs hitting the arm of your couch. Leon's head dipped down your neck, pressing his tongue to the softness of your skin.
“Leon, wait..”
Your eyes flutter open as you reach down, grabbing his face. Leon stared up at you, his breathing labored.
“What happened?”
Your thumb rubbed across his cheek as he stood, pulling you in closer to him.
“You think I don’t want you? Do you know how hard it was not to bend you over this couch after flipping through that notebook?”
He grumbled as he turned you around, pressing his palm up your back as he bent you against the arm of your sofa. Your back arched in response as you looked back at him with red cheeks.
“Every word I've ever said to you makes you blush like that, you know.”
He’s right. But it’s hard not to blush when he compliments your every detail. Leon’s fingers dragged the zipper down your back, his lips following. So much softer than you had imagined. He stood again, tugging at your sleeves, smiling at your bare back. You gasped as you heard a slight tearing, your head flying back to see Leon had ripped your dress. Leon chuckled as the fabric of your dress dropped to the ground, his hands brushing over your hips.
“I’ve always loved watching you grab papers, your hips swaying.”
Leon smirks against your shoulder, his lips pressing against your neck again, your breathing shaky as he sucks at your skin. His pretty lips leave red patches all over your skin that will later be small purple markings that’ll be so prominent. Leon lifts himself, grabbing you to lie on your sofa, smiling down at you as his fingers work at unbuttoning his shirt.
It all felt like a dream, Leon’s shirt dropping to your floor as he tugged his dress pants down his legs. Hypnotized by him, the way his arms flex when he comes to hover over you, his hands holding at your thighs as he drags you further down the couch, his lips pressing against yours again. Leon’s lips ghosted over your skin as he stared at you through hooded eyes. Your eyes roll slightly when his fingers press over your clothed clit, rubbing small circles into you as he licks over your chest, leaving his marks on you there too. Your hips buck into his hand, a laugh coming from his lips as he pulls back, staring down at you as he pushes your panties aside, his fingers slipping into you with ease. Your mouth hangs open slightly as you stare at him.
“So wet.. all for me?”
Leon’s voice was so husky, so different than it usually was; you couldn’t help but let out a moan as his fingers dragged over your walls, your body lifting onto your shoulder as you looked down, your hips tilting up slightly to watch his fingers push in and out of you. The feeling was intoxicating, your head throwing back as he used his other hand to rub at your clit.
“You like watching? Watching how greedy this little pussy is..”
Leon couldn’t help but moan himself as you tightened around his fingers, his eyes staring down at you, sucking in his fingers. He groans as he tugs his boxers down, a whine leaving your lips at the feeling of his fingers no longer filling you. His hands grab at the back of your knees, holding them with one of his larger hands as his other hand grabs ahold of his cock, which was painfully hard. His lips parted slightly as he pressed himself into you, his grip around your leg tightening at the feeling of you squeezing him. He was so thick, so much bigger than what you could handle, a whimper leaving your lips as he pushed himself into you more. His hand drops your legs resting against his waist as he leans over you, grabbing at your jaw to pull you into a sloppy kiss, his tongue pressing into your bottom lip as he fully bottoms himself into you, causing you to gasp into his mouth. Leon let out a soft whimper as he leaned up, holding at your thighs as he rocked into you. You looked so beautiful finally lying below him; he had waited for this too fucking long.
“You look so fucking beautiful taking me like this..”
Leon groans down at you as your hands reach for his shoulders, pulling him back down to press his chest against yours as his speed increases. His face comforts your shoulder as your hands grab at his back, your nails scraping at his back as he lifts your hips, the new angle making him hit that perfect spot.
“I- Leon!”
Leon nodded his head as he looked down at you, forehead glistening with his sweat and his hair sticking to his skin.
“I know, baby, I know.”
He knew because you were gripping him so tightly, he was fighting his hardest not to let himself go inside of you, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he watched you squirm beneath him, warmth flooding your stomach and your breaths increasing as he pushed his palm into your stomach. Random babbles leave your lips as your arm comes up, covering your face as you cum around him, your walls fluttering against him, causing a loud groan to escape his lips as he pulls himself out of you, moving your hand from your stomach as his cum splatters all over your soft skin.
You two stare at each other, catching your breath. His arms reach forward, moving your arm from your flushed face.
“There you are.”
He mumbles as he kisses you softly, standing up and reaching down to pull up his boxers. He’s gone for almost two minutes, yet you’re still lying on the couch, eyes studying the ceiling.
“You organize your laundry room weirdly.”
Leon’s voice makes you tilt your head, watching him walk back into the living room. He leans over, wiping your stomach with the small rag in his hand, your lips tugging into a smile as you reach forward, touching his face. He peers down at you, smiling back as he helps you sit up, his fingers pushing your hair behind your shoulders.
“You want a shower?”
He asks softly as he sits beside you and wraps his arm around you as you lean your head against his shoulder.
“I just want to be with you.”
You mumble, your eyes closing as you wrap your arms around his waist.
“I’m not leaving anytime soon; I think you’re stuck with me.”
Leon speaks as he lifts your chin, kissing your forehead softly before he stands up, lifting you over his shoulder, causing a loud squeal to leave your lips as he taps the skin of your thighs with a smile.
“Let’s shower. Then you can show me more drawings, yeah?”
#leon kennedy#resident evil#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x reader#resident evil x reader#yourgentlegf#re4 x reader#re4 leon#self insert smut
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Okay but imagine Battinson driving to Kansa for a Batman case and then he just gets lost. Like yea, he traveled for years for training and all but he was mainly focused on the training aspect, not sightseeing. And to make matters worst (because if something can go wrong, with Bruce it most certainly will) he has a busted tire with no tools in sight to fix it.
“Um, excuse me, sir?” Bruce heard a young boy’s voice call out to him. It was two of them, they looked like carbon copies of each other so they must be siblings. Though to Bruce, they looked more like the time laps of a boy who hit a punk phase in his teen years.
This wasn’t exactly a busy street and in his 2 hours of being stuck here, Bruce had only seen 2 cars pass by. He wondered where these kids came from.
He puts on the “Brucie” mask and grinned, “Hello, is there anything you need fellas?”
He knew that Brucie Wayne was widely known throughout the US. He cannot let down his guard and let his cover blow, even if it’s just children who realistically probably had no interest in socialites from a different state.
The light of recognition and surprised hits the older boy's face and he exclaimed, “Your Bruce Wayne?!”
Knew it.
“Yes, I am. And what are y’all’s names?” He made sure to keep his voice light and his smile friendly and open.
“Um..that’s my brother, Jon, and my name’s Conner.” He stammered out. “We noticed that you weren’t moving and wanted to help.”
That was rather nice of the two boys but incredibly naive and unsafe. This could’ve easily been a ruse to lure in unsuspecting people who are too kind. But maybe that’s just the Gothamite in him speaking, you learn early on not to trust strangers, especially those who are being nice to you.
“Yea!” Jon excitedly confirmed and he looked over at Bruce’s car. “It seems like the front tire is busted. Conner can patch it up, he’s pretty good at this kinda stuff.”
It was Bruce’s turn to be surprised now. The boys were both now beaming at him, eager, and the desire to help written clearly on both of their faces. Even though Conner, did not look at all confident in his skills. But Bruce did need the help so he nodded.
While Conner was busy looking over the tire, Jon stayed behind to ask Bruce some questions. Some were getting pretty weird and into the dating part of his life. The boy would ask, “Are you single, sir?”
And before Bruce had the chance to answer, he’d give him another one and another one. He caught all of them of course and was getting ready to deflect. But then he saw the puppy smile and the little dimples. He wondered if the boy’s parents had this much trouble saying no to him.
He caved and answered yes to all of the questions but honestly, he never considered dating an option. He had many roles to fill and even more, secrets to keep that having a romantic partner seemed too out of reach for him to even entertain things like types or preferences.
“Would you date a divorced person with kids?” Jon asked with slight hope in his blue eyes. That was a rather odd and specific question.
What would Brucie say in this situation? What would Bruce say? Well, he had multiple kids at home so refusing someone else for having their own would be strange of him. “No, I would not mind.”
“That’s great,” came his reply.
“Um, Mr. Wayne, you wouldn’t mind if I called my Pa then? The tire needs to be replaced and he’s better than me when it comes to that part. I would also hate to accidentally mess up your car.” Conner told him and Bruce nodded once again.
A few moments later as Bruce and the boys converse in small talk, he saw a vibrant red pickup pulled up beside them and saw a god walk out. Tall and sun-kissed skin with waves of black hair and cornflower blue eyes. He was beautiful, there was nothing much to it.
“Hello there! My son called, said you needed some help with your car?”
All Bruce could do was nod and move out of the way so the man could work. He was used to feeling tongue-tied, gals he didn’t want to attend, and board meetings that could have easily been an email. But those were situations, not a singular person.
He looked up from his kneeling position-why the sun shine on him like that?- and introduced himself, “By the way, name’s Clark Kent. Let's see what we're working with here.” And then returned to his work.
Bruce nodded once again and the sounds of giggling children could be heard. They were giving their Dad encouragement.
It was much needed too, Clark looked like a fish out of water. Bruce knew how to replace the tire, he just didn't have any tools or a spare tire with him. Which was foolish of him, he knows. But he couldn't really think right now, with Clark in front of him. Plus, he didn't want to overstep Clark, maybe he had a process.
(Yes, a process that included staring at the tire and the spare he brought in his truck.)
After a very long 3 hours, Clark got the tire securely on and with no chance of falling off, as it did the last 3 times before.
Bruce cleared his throat, “Thank you, Mr. Kent.”
He flounders for a “your welcome” and then silence as they both stare at each other. “Would you like to go eat at a diner? It's rather hot so an ac and a cool drink might stop you from catching a heat stroke.”
Bruce thinks this over and nods, “Yes, that would be nice. What about your kids?”
Clark’s eyes made their way to them and before he gave an answer, Conner beat him to it.
“Oh, don't worry about us, Mr. Wayne. I got my driver’s license so I’ll drive us back home in Dad’s pickup. Let’s go, Jon.” The boy flashes his driver’s license for both men to see.
“Okay, get home safe, and re-“
“Yes, yes, we will remember to call you,” Jon says dismissively. He comes closer to give his father a hug (how cute, Bruce thinks) and whispers something.
Bruce couldn't catch what was said with Jon’s quiet voice and his head facing away. But whatever it was turned Clark into a blushing mess.
“Yes, I will. Off you go now.” Clark pushes his son into the direction of the pickup and turns to Bruce. “Shall we?”
“Yes, we shall.” Bruce says getting to the car. “I’ll pay for dinner, as a thank you. This is non-negotiable, Clark.”
He chuckles, “Okay, fine. But I get to drive then. Deal?”
“Deal.”
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#superbat#brcue wayne#battinson#clark kent#jonathan kent#kon kent#batman#superman#superboy#dc#dc comics#bruce: no thoughts head empty#same for clark#these two are mess#jon & kon are tryna play matchmakers#suprisingly it's working
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Dragon AU fluff (involving Mortier)
A rather pointless fluff scene, inspired by @cadmusfly's dragon marshalate AU. Basically a dragonized version of what might or might not have happened in 1798/9 Koblenz. I'm not sure if I've taken too many liberties with the world's rules and general settings, if so, please pretend it's all just a misunderstanding by humans with very little knowledge and understanding of these things.
-
„Girls!“ Anna-Margarethe yelled, her voice echoing through the house. „Run and hide, girls! The French dragons are back!“
Eva heard the desperation in her mother's words, the tears barely held back. She shooed her younger sisters down the ladder into the basement, where they would be safe until the danger was over. Then she closed the door and went to find her mother in the kitchen.
The inn „Zum Wilden Mann“ was quiet, its rooms empty since the last French troops had moved out. They had occupied the inn for quite some time – and for free, of course - until being called to join a larger army gathering nearby. An army with several dragons, and those, on their arrival two days ago, had scared Eva's poor mother almost to death.
They seemed so much more ferocious. The dragons in the Austrian army they had seen earlier had always been accompanied by several Habsburg Dragon Wardens and had never dared to as much as look too closely at the humans living in Koblenz.
Not only did French dragons roam around freely, often even without any rider, they even held titles and military ranks within the Revolutionary army. They commanded soldiers! One of the dragons had interrogated Eva's mother, and she claimed to still have a headache from hearing his booming telepathical voice echoing through her thoughts.
„Mum? Will you be alright? Are you sure the dragons are back? It's still dark outside.“
„Oh, I saw him well enough.“ Her mother gave a nervous laugh. „He was hard to overlook, the beast must be as big as our house. He's just landed on the pasture, in front of the cowshed. Probably to get the last of our cows, after he devoured the other yesterday.“ Eva saw her shaking.
„Somebody should go out and ask what he wants“, she suggested.
„No. I'm not going out there! Just let him eat poor Gertrud and be done with it!“ She started sobbing uncontrollably.
Usually, Eva was not somebody to take the initiative. On most occasions, she was quite happy to let others make the decisions and to fade into the background. But seeing her mother in tears strengthened her resolve. Without a word, she turned around and left.
There was still one large ham left in the larder. They had kept it hidden from their French guests. But sacrificing it to the appetite of the dragon lurking on the pasture behind the house would still be preferable to loosing their last cow.
Carrying the ham in both arms, she ran out through the backdoor. Morning dawned on the horizon.
Eva stopped hard in her tracks. When her mother had estimated the dragon to be as big as their house, Eva had naturally assumed her to exaggerate. None of the French dragons she had seen before had been much bigger than a horse. Maybe a ´small carriage. A hay wagon, at most.
But this one was … huge. He covered half of the pasture, cowering on four legs and, at least that's the impression Eva had, trying to make himself as small as possible. He had his tail curled up around him and his wings neatly folded on his back.
To Eva, it still looked as if a mountain had grown out of the ground.
The idea to feed this … thing with the tiny ham she carried in her arms suddenly seemed ludicrous. Even a cow could not mean more than an appetizer to him.
„Excuse me?“, she said nevertheless. „May I … uhm … help you … sir?“
-
He heard a voice calling for him, somewhere down in the shadows. Mortier squinted. It was a young woman, tiny as all humans. Though this one looked small and fragile even by human standards.
Her voice however pleased him greatly. It reminded him of birds singing in the trees in spring. Mortier liked those little birds, especially when they were singing.
He lowered his head carefully, so as to not scare or hurt her – he sometimes found it difficult to correctly estimate the distances when dealing with humans. He once had knocked over half a batallion of grenadiers just because he had not been careful enough with his tail.
Things like that embarrassed him greatly.
Good morning, Mademoiselle. - She had adressed him in French, so obviously she knew the language. - Very pleased to meet you. I hope I did not wake you up? Apologies for calling on you so early in the morning. It was the only time I was free. And, to be honest, a soldier's sleeping schedule tends to be thoroughly messed up. - She nodded, but did not reply. Maybe he had already scared her. Mortier wished he was a little less clumsy. - You see, I've come because of your cow.
-
Eva was stunned. Never had she expected a dragon to be that … polite. Considerate. Almost nice. As a matter of fact, this soldier dragon seemed a lot nicer than most human soldiers she had met over tha last months! If one ignored his size (admittedly, that was more easily said than done), he did not even look all that threatening. Maybe it was because, while his long body was covered in reptilian scales, some brown, fine fur spread from his long snout over his enormous head and down his chest. The two large horns winding backwards and down from the top of his head gave him the look of a large, floppy-eared dog.
Unlike her mother, she also found hearing the dragon's voice in her thoughts far from unpleasant. To the contrary. It was a warm, guttural … sound, for lack of a better word, that reverberated through her and made her feel safe and relaxed.
The feeling evaporated as soon as the dragon mentioned poor Gertrud.
„Please“, she blurted out, „do not eat Gertrud! She's the last cow we have!“
He seemed astonished, almost shocked. - What? No! I didn't mean to eat your cow. I came to apologize because I ate the other one yesterday.
„Oh. So you did eat Bella?“
The dragon gave a sheepish nod, the movement causing a draught that made Eva's hair and skirts fly. - But merely because it was the only food I could find close by. I have a lot of work to do here, so I need to keep up my strength. If not...
Eva nodded. Everybody knew about dragon stupor.
But I did not mean to cause you any grief. So I wanted to let you know that as soon as we have got some cattle from the Austrians, I shall send you another cow to replace the one I ate.
„How kind of you to care. This would indeed help us greatly. You see, since my father’s death, my mother had to run the inn alone, with only us girls helping. And war has not helped business, as you can imagine.“
I can! - Again the excited nod, this time the draught almost made her stagger backwards. - So you are all alone here, only women in the house? With all those soldiers roaming about? But that will not do, that will not do at all! I’m afraid for your safety. Shall I send you a safeguard? Some trusted men who would make sure nobody bothers you?
The offer rendered Eva almost speechless. This was the nicest soldier she had met so far! „We’ve had some problems in the past, that is true… Could you really do that?“
-
The girl looked up at his face with huge brown eyes full of trust, gratefulness and … well, something that bordered on admiration. Or at least that’s what Mortier chose to see. It was a very flattering feeling.
What a nice girl this was. Now he felt twice as bad for having eaten her cow yesterday. But he had been so damned hungry. Truth be told, he still was. He always was. Given his size, he could have eaten half a dozen of cattle – but what would be left for the humans then? Resources were always scarce. So he usually restrained himself to what was strictly necessary in order to keep him going. He had gotten used to his stomach constantly growling, and to feeling a little dizzy and sleepy most of the time, because whenever he strained himself even a little too much, he was immediately on the edge of falling into stupor.
But how could he act otherwise, when truly satisfying his hunger meant hurting innocent little humans like this girl?
Of course I can give you a safeguard, he bragged, raised his head a little and carefully clawed at the fur covering his breast. - I’m a general, you know. They gave me a sash and all. I’m wearing it now, but it always gets lost in the fur.
He discovered the large tricolor sash, twisted and out of place as usual. - Could I ask you a favour, Mademoiselle? Would you be so kind as to properly rearrange it for me? That’s the kind of thing I will never manage to do with these claws… Oh, but I see you are carrying something. Is that – is that a ham?
Mortier’s stomach gave a painful little growl.
-
Eva found her situation rather surreal. Here she was, on a dark pasture with a dragon looming over her, and having a polite conversation. The most surreal thing, of course, being the fact she was thoroughly enjoying herself in the presence of said dragon. His awkward attempt at correctly placing the signs of his military rank on his chest were so cute she immediately would have come to his aid, had it not been for the stupid ham.
„Yes, indeed“, she said sheepishly. „I had brought it out, hoping to trade it in for our cow. Of course I had no idea at the time what a small gift this would mean to you.“
Oh, but it isn’t! - His enthusiasm seemed real. Even the end of his tail, that he had curled up around himself, started to wag up and down, tapping on the ground every time, like that of an excited dog. - What a kind thought of you! If you really want to part with it, I would love to taste it. Is it smoked?
„Boiled actually. Oh, I never wondered! Can dragons even eat cooked food?“
Well, there are of course such purists among us who demand a dragon’s diet must only consist of raw meat. - The dragon general rolled his eyes. - But, let’s be honest, everbody who has been living around humans knows that cooked food just tastes so much better! When we celebrated a victory over the Austrians last, the boys roasted two oxen, only for me. With a filling, made of bread and potatoes! It was heaven!
The dragon tail wagged again and almost made Eva laugh. She could not help but feel that this huge scary dragon general had a lot in common with a hungry stray dog.
I see you smiling, Mademoiselle, the dragon’s voice echoed in her head, but let me assure you, in a soldier’s life pleasures are simple. A good meal, a friendly conversation with a beautiful lady, like we are having right now, this is all we aspire to most of the time. In this aspect, a soldier dragon differs very little from a human soldier, and a general very little from a private.
„Well, in this case I surely shall not be so harsh as to deprive you of this tiny pleasure.“
And tiny indeed it seemed to Eva, as the dragon general eagerly opened his mouth. She prepared to throw the ham over the fence of – stunningly white – dragon teeth but a pink tongue, wide enough for a blanket, slipped out of his mouth, and Eva gingerly placed the ham on it.
The dragon consumed it eagerly and even made a bit of a show chomping on it, despite the fact he probably could have swallowed it whole. Then he gave a deep, content sigh.
What a wonderful treat this was! I have not felt this sated in ages, she heard him exclaim in her thoughts.
„You are very kind, general, but I can tell that you are only saying this to please me. You can hardly have tasted the ham.“
-
But that was the weirdest thing about it: Mortier was telling the truth. The ham, as small as it was, had really satisfied Mortier’s hunger to a stunning degree. It should not have had such an effect on him. But it had.
Then maybe it was not so much the meat but the conversation with this kind (and pretty!) human girl?
Mortier had never given much thought to the metaphysical background of human-dragon bonding. Truth be told, he did not give much thought to metaphysical stuff at all, at least compared to some of his comrades. Mortier knew there were humans whom he liked, just like there were dragons whom he liked, and he knew that the presence of humans he liked made him feel a lot better, less hungry, less sleepy, sharper and more energetic. More alive, in a way. This knowledge sufficed for him.
Now he realized that he had rarely felt as alive as in the presence of this human lady.
Maybe he should have paid more attention to this whole „bonding“ thing. He only knew about the official practices, standardized by the government of the French Republic, that had young ladies, usually the daughters of politicians and wealthy citizens, function as dragon riders at parades or festivities. These girls were nice enough, and Mortier felt comfortable and somewhat flattered in their presence.
But it was nothing compared to what he felt when the girl in front of him now touched his fur in order to rearrange the twisted tricolor sash. It wasn’t any particular instance he could have put his claw on, no feeling that struck him like a lightning bolt or anything. Yet he started to realize that his body was tingling all over with contentment. If that even made sense.
And she seemed to realize. Or to experience something similar? Mortier almost felt as if he could sense an echo of her thoughts in his mind. He also suddenly realized he had neither introduced himself nor even asked her name yet.
-
Eva was astonished. She had expected the dragon fur to be rough and scratchy. But it felt softer under her touch than that of a kitten. She could not help but bury her hand in it and stroke it. „What wonderful fur you have!“
Do you like it? I’m rather proud of it, if I may confess such vanity. It’s not all that common for our species to have any fur, and mine surely is not among the worst. If you want to feel, it’s even softer here…
He eagerly started to turn a little to the side to offer her a view of his underbelly. There was a sound, a crash, of breaking, splintered wood, and he froze mid-movement, his eyes bulging.
Oh god! What was that?
„I think it was old Cesar’s shed“, said Eva.
Cesar?
„Our dog.“
I killed your dog? - The dragon almost shouted in Eva’s thoughts.
„Oh, no, no“, she reassured him. „Cesar died last winter, of old age. We have not gotten a new dog since.“
Good. I mean, not good of course, I’m very sorry for the poor animal but … The dragon general seemed equally relieved and confused. His next question came somewhat unexpected.
Mademoiselle, may I inquire: Are you afraid of heights?
„Of heights?“ Eva was too astonished to ponder the reason for the question. „No, I do not think so. I often need to climb the roof of our stables as we have some hens who love to fly up there. It never bothered me.“
Perfect! Do you think you would enjoy flying over your town? I would love to take you. I regularly have riders during military missions but with you it would be a pleasure…
Another sound interrupted him. One by one, the church bells of Koblenz started ringing.
Oh dear. Is it so late already? They’ll start the battle without me! - Mademoiselle, quickly, what’s your name?
„Eva Anna Hinnes.“
Ève! What name could compliment you more! - It sounded as if he tasted her name on his tongue like he had done with the ham, but then the church bells rang again, and he sighed.
I need to leave. - He abruptly unfolded his wings and narrowly avoided taking down Gertrud’s cowshed in the process. - Please do not go anywhere, Mademoiselle Ève!, she heard his voice in her thoughts, as the draught from his wings almost knocked her off her feet. - As soon as we have killed the Austrians, I’ll be back. I’ll bring you cows and oxen and … maybe a new dog? Whatever you like. But please do not go anywhere!
„I won’t“, Eva said silently, somehow convinced that the dragon could hear her even if he was already hovering high above her. She of course did leave the pasture however, once she could not see the dragon general anymore, in order to get back to the inn’s kitchen.
Her mother almost cried with relief.
„Eva! For heaven’s sake, you’re fine! Where have you been, what took you so long? I was scared the dragon had eaten you!“
„Mum?“ Eva said, deep in thoughts. „You know I always wanted to one day take over the inn? I think I have changed my plans. I think I want to become a dragon rider.“
Anna-Margarethe was too stunned to answer.
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little women part one: the bridgertons
Summary: The Bridgerton sisters are closer than most but the trials of womanhood might just tear these little women apart.
A/N: Please let me know if you enjoy. Also feel free to imagine the Bridgertons as whoever I don't describe them or Y/N only the love interests. Speaking of love interests, I have cast Laurie Laurence as Dev Patel, again you can picture whoever.
Please note: 1) the Bridgerton boys will not be in this fic and 2) a significant portion of the dialogue is lifted from the Little Women (2019) script.
little women masterlist | next part
Eloise Bridgerton is a beautiful young woman. She knows this. She is also a very smart young woman. Unfortunately only one of those traits is useful for a young woman in society. She hopes this will help her chances in her upcoming meeting.
Striding slowly to a large wooden door, she wipes her hand on her skirt before knocking sharply.
She steps in, hoping to appear confident in front of everyone. Despite the room being full of men working, no one even looks at her. Most don’t realise she’s even there.
Eloise scans the room, searching for Mr Dashwood. When she can’t see him, she walks over to the only man actually paying attention.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for Mr Dashwood.”
The old man just stares. She smiles, a little unnerved, a little confused. He very pointedly looks at his name plate, ‘Mr Dashwood’.
Eloise whispers under her breath, “Of course you are.” She clears her throat then holds out some papers to him, “A friend of mine wanted me to hand in a story she wrote. And to ask if she can write more, if it suits.”
“Not a first attempt, I take it?” He snatches them from her, giving the words a quick scan.
“No, sir. She has sold to other papers and won prizes for her stories.”
“Prizes?”
“Yes. Sir.”
He looks her up and down with thinly veiled disdain. “Sit.”
She does so, pressing her hands firmly into her lap to cover the ink stains.
Dipping his pen in the ink pot, Mr Dashwood begins some ‘alterations’. In actuality, he’s crossing out entire paragraphs or pages. Then he slaps the paper on his desk, startling the young woman across from him.
Eloise watches with despair, all of her work being destroyed so easily by some man who apparently thinks his lavatory doesn’t smell.
Through the fog in her ears, his voice grumbles. “We’ll take it.”
“Hmm?”
“We’ll take it. With alterations.” Mr Dashwood doesn’t even wait for the ink to dry, just gathers the pages together. “It’s far too long.”
Eloise takes her work back, brows furrowed at the lines marring her loopy script, “You’ve cut so much.” She notices his ‘are-you-seriously-going-to-argue’ expression and clarifies, “I made sure some of the sinners repent.”
“People want to be amused, not preached at. Even after Lady Whistledown’s gossip column stopped, her influence means morals don’t sell nowadays.” Mr Dashwood looks down his nose at Eloise, “Perhaps mention that to your ‘friend’.”
“What compensation –”
“Twenty.”
She looks down at her work, she knows it’s worth more but she needs the money. “You can have it. Make the edits.”
He hands her the money, and she reluctantly returns the story.
Eloise stands, brushing her skirt. Mr Dashwood eyes her ink-stained fingers with mild amusement.
She meets his eye, “Should I tell my friend you’ll take another? If she had one.”
Mr Dashwood sighs, “We’ll look at it. Tell her to make it short and spicy. Oh and if the main character is a girl, make sure she’s either married or dead by the end.”
“I’m sorry?”
He ignores her, pen in hand again, “What name?”
“Oh, none at all please.”
“If that’s what ‘she’ prefers.”
“Good day, sir.”
She practically runs from the office, attracting the ire of some of the men around her. Then once she’s outside, she picks up her skirts and sprints.
A sweet little cat meets Eloise at the front door of the boarding house she lives in. The tuxedo kitten stretches and meows, so she picks him up. “You know, my Frannie would love you, Muffin.”
She makes her way to the drawing room, kissing Muffin on the head and dropping him on a seat near the crackling fire. Eloise turns her back to the fire, warming her body while she writes.
She hears loud conversation and pops her head up to see her favourite people in the world (bar her family). Philip Crane and his two young children, Oliver and Amanda are the best part of living in the city.
“Hello Miss Eloise!” The two duck in just to give her a hug before they run to their apartment.
As she watches them leave, she makes eye contact with Mr Crane, his eyes are bright with the infectious joy of his children. He steps into the room, the light of the fire highlighting his profile. Eloise has never been more jealous of her sister Y/N’s artistic ability, she wishes she could paint him just where he stands. She’ll have to settle for her writing.
“Good afternoon, Miss Bridgerton.”
“Good afternoon, Mister Crane.”
In an attempt to appear casual, she returns to her work.
He admires her for a moment then frowns, “You’re on fire.”
“Thank you.”
“No, you’re on fire.” He points to her skirt. The back of her dress has caught on fire. She puts it out quickly, face burning with humiliation.
“No, don’t worry! I have the same habit.” He shows her scorch marks on his jacket.
Eloise smiles and takes a step towards him when the matron of the house interrupts.
“Your children are waiting.” She smacks Philip’s arm softly but can’t help her delighted expression over the two connecting.
“Sorry Mr Crane, Oliver and Amanda need me.” Eloise takes the matron’s arm and heads to the door.
“Tell them I will be a little later tonight, still in time to tell them their bedtime story.”
Eloise looks over her shoulder, “Of course. Perhaps you can tell them about my sister’s adventures in Paris.”
~*~*~*~*~
Y/N Bridgerton is a beautiful young woman. She knows this. She is also a very talented artist. Although that second part has been a source of doubt in her life.
She was in an art lesson with some of the best young painters in Paris. The class had to paint a traditional scene of friends at a picnic and as Y/N looked around, she noticed something concerning. The artist next to her was exceptional. His work was bright and colourful, loose lines and flat colours. Original and unique to himself. Hers was detailed and realistic, special care taken with light and shade. An imitation rather than an innovative piece of work. The realisation that she wasn’t a future genius or some incredible prodigy terrified her.
Disheartened by the lesson, Y/N sits in the open air carriage with her aunt, basking in the cool breeze brushing her face. She holds a folded letter from home tight to her chest. If she closed her eyes she’s certain she’d feel their love seeping through her clothes. Her aunt is complaining about something or other, a hobby she enjoyed far too often.
“I tell you, the decadents have ruined Paris, if you ask me. These French women couldn’t lift a hairbrush.”
Y/N doesn’t respond.
“Y/N!” The girl in question jolts, turning to her aunt, “I said, ‘These French women couldn’t lift a hairbrush.’”
“Oh yes, ha ha. Very true Aunt Ledger.”
“Don’t humour me, girl.” Aunt Ledger keeps her tone even but when she looks at the letter in her niece’s lap, her almost unshakeable facade wavers. She hides her distress with a sneer, “What do they write, your troublemaking family?”
“Mama hasn’t written about Francesca yet, I really should go back.” Y/N opens the letter again, “They say I should stay.”
“There’s nothing for you to do if you go back. She’s sick, not lonely.” Aunt Ledger ignores Y/N’s foul glare, blabbering on, “And you shouldn’t go home until you’re engaged to Fred Vaughn.”
Y/N folds the letter again, tucking it away safely, “Yes and completed my painting lessons of course.”
Aunt Ledger waves her off, “Yes, yes of course.”
Y/N returns to people-watching, upset by the lack of proper communication from her family and her aunt’s nastiness. A tall man with curly dark hair and soft dark skin walks past, hands tucked deep into his pockets.
Y/N jumps up in her seat, tapping the driver impatiently, “STOP STOP STOP! IT’S LAURIE!” She hikes up her skirts and runs to the man crying “LAURIE!”
Laurie turns, notices a woman draped in purple running towards him, screaming his name. As she jumps into his arms, he realises it’s Y/N, that sweet girl from his childhood.
He spins her around, laughing brightly. When they separate, she grabs his hands and he squeezes hers gently, “Y/N, you’ve grown up so much! It’s wonderful to see you.”
“You wrote you’d come to the hotel!” Her brows furrow softly.
He can’t take his eyes from her, roaming her face to memorise every detail, “I looked for you, I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
“Clearly you didn’t look hard enough.”
“Maybe I just didn’t recognize you, you’ve become so beautiful.” He moves their hands to the side and steps back, nodding at her.
Y/N wrinkles her nose, “Please don’t.”
“I thought you liked that sort of thing!”
“Well I don’t.” She smiles again, “Where’s your grandfather?”
“Still in Germany.” He finally pulls his hands away to put them behind his back, “I’m on my own, traveling and having fun.”
Y/N teases him, “And drinking and gambling and flirting…”
Laurie looks so horrified that if Y/N didn’t know better, she would’ve thought he was genuinely scandalised. “Please don’t tell your mother.”
“So you’re chasing some girl around Europe?” Y/N’s expression drops, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t believe when I heard Eloise turned you down.”
“Don’t be sorry, I’m not.” He’s lying for the moment but not that he’s seen Y/N again, it could be true.
Aunt Ledger interrupts the sweet moment, shrieking, “Y/N! Y/N BRIDGERTON! YOU GET BACK HERE NOW!”
Y/N pulls Laurie along by his hand and they run back to the carriage, “Coming Aunt Ledger!”
After he helps Y/N into her seat, Laurie kisses Aunt Ledger on the cheek, “You look marvellous as always.”
“GET OFF ME! GO, GO!” With surprising strength, the crabby old woman pushes Laurie away and smacks the driver.
The carriage pulls away but Y/N kneels on her seat to call out to her friend, “Come to the New Year’s Party! It’ll be so much fun - everyone will be there, including Fred!” She’s about to turn away when she remembers, “Pick me up at the hotel at eight! And dress for festivities! Top hats and silks!”
“I will, I’ll wear my best silk!” He smiles and waves her off.
She grins and sits back down, ignoring her aunt’s ranting.
Laurie stays there a little longer, admiring the woman he reunited with. He walks away with a load lifted from his chest.
Y/N can’t help but take one last look at him before he’s gone again. He was still just as handsome as ever and she knows. She will never stop loving him.
~*~*~*~*~
Daphne Basset (née Bridgerton) is a beautiful young woman. She knows this. She is also a very tired new mother. Despite her intense love for her children, she cannot help but envy those who have not faced the same struggles she has.
Daphne watches her ‘friend’ Cressida Berbrooke wander around the shop, luxurious silks draped over the blonde’s arms. A small part of her wishes she could do the same, unworried about the cost of her purchase.
Cressida is the type of young lady who has never wanted for anything, everything has been given to her. So when she looks over at her ‘dearest’ friend, who eyes a soft green silk, her heart bleeds. “Daphne, that colour would do wonders for your skin tone, and I know the perfect dressmaker to help you.”
Daphne drops the silk and whips around to Cressida, “No, no, no I couldn’t possibly. Simon needs a new coat and the twins need new clothes.”
Cressida’s tone is spiteful, having been spoiled her whole life, she enjoys embarrassing her ‘friends’. “And you need a new dress.”
Daphne tries to hide her expression, aware of what Cressida’s doing,
“I can’t.”
“But he’ll be so pleased with how you look that he’ll forget all about the expense.” The blonde giggles.
Silk wasn’t that expensive, was it? “I suppose it’s not too much of an extravagance.”
The sales clerk seizes his opportunity, “Will twenty yards do?”
Daphne nods, “Yes, thank you.”
Her heart is warm with delight as she leaves with Cressida. When she gets home, the full force of guilt hits her. “What was I thinking?”
Her daughters play in the garden as she enters, dropping the large amount of silk on the dining table. She sits down on the porch, her regret almost overwhelming.
The twins run towards her, “Mummy!” They hug her tightly and she tucks her face into their shoulders to hide her tears. When they run off again, she’s thankful for the weight they lift. Even if it’s just for the moment.
~*~*~*~*~
Francesca Bridgerton is a beautiful young woman. She knows this. She also knows that she’s living on borrowed time. Her body is slowly giving up on her, for all her and her mother’s best efforts.
Frannie has always loved playing the pianoforte. It was something her family bonded over, and every time she plays now, those memories come flooding back.
Her favourite song to play was an old lullaby her mother and sisters used to sing. Their voices blend with the piano melody in her head.
Her hand suddenly seizes, pain searing into her bones. She brings the hand to her chest, flexing it and breathing through the pain. When she lays her hands on top of the piano, the sunlight warms them from the inside, soothing the pain ever so slightly.
Her mother’s voice calls from another room, “Frannie? Francesca!”
She can’t bring herself to respond.
~*~*~*~*~
After her lessons with Oliver and Amanda finish, Eloise has plenty of free time before the matron’s curfew. She decides to go to the theatre, a venue that once seemed too extravagant for someone like her. But the theatre she frequented allowed people who couldn’t buy tickets to stand at the back and enjoy the play.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream is playing, a play she’d always wanted to see performed. She’s enraptured, giggling at the appropriate moments, commenting on things with the man next to her.
During Helena’s soliloquy, Philip Crane looks around the theatre, watching people’s reactions to her heartfelt speech. He’s seen the play enough times that he could probably quote it by heart.
He turns in his seat, having always found the reactions of the people in the back’s reactions to be the most interesting.
There he sees Eloise Bridgerton, bright and delightful as always. She seems entranced by Helena’s performance and he can’t help the smile on his face.
When the play ends, Eloise follows Philip and his friends to a beer hall, hoping to a) get to know him better and b) finally make some friends in the city.
She’s stopped on the stairs by a young man, speaking a foreign language. He holds a hand out and gestures to the makeshift dance floor.
“I only speak English sorry!” She cries, beaming at the sweet man.
“Come dance!” He clearly learned this phrase for this situation, so she rewards his pragmatism, joining him in a jig.
The dance is free, unstructured and unchoreographed. Couples spin wildly, whirl around each other and some swap partners as they go. Eloise slowly makes her way to Philip, who gives her his hands. She dances the night away with this kind man, the joy radiating from their bodies even as they return to the boarding house. The matron locks up behind them, chuckling quietly to herself. Clearly she seems to know something they don’t.
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your incessant shivering is getting the attention of your companion, the IUDEX OF FONTAINE.
by some miraculous fate, you and monsieur neuvillette are stuck together; caught by the rain. it is pouring, droplets hitting the ground sound more like lightning striking the earth. shelter, for now, is under the aquabus stop heading for court de fontaine—it does provide some roof over your heads, but it is cold and the iudex is boring holes on you.
his intense staring causes you to shiver more if possible. out of all the days you get caught in the rain, it had to be with him who had certainly impeccable timing with you leaving the opera epiclese to go home after an arduous trial.
well. looking at the bright side, at least you can go home. days where you were stuck at the palais mermonia due to tall stacks of papers can be counted with two hands and backwards.
you sigh. it'd do you some good to contemplate on a career change…
"excuse me." something warm covers your shoulders, "please, take my jacket."
monsieur neuvillette's jacket is draped over your being and it leaves no room for argument. you're too preoccupied by the abrupt surge of warmth coursing through your veins and manifesting as butterflies in your stomach. the soft insides of the cloth turn damp from your wet clothes, but his jacket…
you're gaping at him, possibly, because monsieur neuvillette levels you with a slow nod, gently muttering, "do not worry about me. you need it more than i."
then he looks away, watching the raindrops shatter on the ground each time they reach the earth.
"m-monsieur, i—"
"i am sorry for the inconvenience," his own apology swallows your own. "this weather is hardly ideal for returning home after working such a long trial. i should have thought of those who would be taking the trip home. it seems that…"
monsieur neuvillette's words drift off into the wind; whatever he said escaping him.
"do you… require more heat?"
you're staring at him like you did moments ago.
"no, i… monsieur, i thought it strange to apologize for the sudden change of weather. the rain hardly merits an apology, sir; you make it sound like it is unnatural the rain is summoned after such a long, exhausting case."
monsieur neuvillette is an individual seemingly cold; unfeeling; stern. you know this firsthand that such a disposition is required for a man of his position—he is the chief justice of the nation, therefore such presence is needed.
but you argue that he is not all what they perceive him to be. the soft furrowing of his brows and the thoughtful expression on his countenance are other sides of him—it surprises you, you have never seen the iudex look so human.
"i was under the impression the rain is a burden; an inconvenience." slight surprise is vibrant on his features.
now it is your turn to furrow your brows. "who told you that?"
reluctance looks strange on monsieur neuvillette, but in some way it fits him. he speaks slowly, "most of whom i've met would prefer not to wait out in the rain."
the image of him by your side is replaced by the rainfall in front of you. it shocks you slightly that what remains is a drizzle but the rain is still there—yet, you brush the feelings of surprise away to ponder on his words.
"…rain is a blessing. it is nature at its finest, and the feelings of the mighty hydro dragon being released as the beauty of the world."
the conclusion you reach is simple.
water is the source of life, and if rain is the sign of life flourishing, then what is there to hate? what is there to consider a burden?
"i see."
when you look back at monsieur neuvillette, you find yourself enraptured. a less closer look would miss that soft smile of his, barely there and ghosting his face. it creates an image much unlike his usual self and it becomes difficult to tear your gaze away.
then those eyes turn to you; pearlescent in glimmer; beautiful in color. the weather is beyond you because solely monsieur neuvillette's question enters in your senses: "and pray tell, when have you thought such a thing?"
by some miraculous fate, the words used in your response seem so right.
"just… by looking at you, monsieur."
(if you looked, the rain stopped.)
#hanyi-writing#neuvillette#genshin impact#neuvillette x reader#genshin impact x reader#this was to the tune of butterfly effect (the demo!) by sophie holohan 💗#i was super really in love with the song i was listening to#i'd really pass out if someone just barrelled into my life like that#isn't love supposed to bring a new perspective on life?#or just partners in general. UGH we love yearning#i'm really just insane about this guy. both his attitude and lore are such contradictions and i feel like that makes him super duper human#also. my fancy side came out during writing. pls excuse it. fontaine + mond brings such feelings out of me#(i mean inazuma could also? sumeru... i'd sound pretentious af yikes)#this piece took so long i was starting to die inside re-reading the first sentence repeatedly#i had to rewrite it. or my eyes will bleed out
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Rain & Moon / Pluie et Lune
Rain & Moon
Daniel was turning the corner of the detour street when the storm broke. He immediately looked around, looking for shelter, when he saw a bar. He ran inside to escape the rain. Behind the bar, the waitress was standing still and looking out the large bay window onto the street. Daniel also turned around. A flash of lightning streaked across the sky like a crack and lit up their silent faces.
Daniel, like a ghost, slipped quietly onto the nearest bench. He directed his gaze towards the street. The window faintly reflected his face, crossed by the lights of the cars that glided in the falling evening. A radio was playing a barely audible song from a past time, enveloping the place in a tenderly nostalgic atmosphere.
Daniel shunned places where loud music overpowered everything and salesmen were on top of you as soon as you crossed the threshold. He leaned against the backrest. He would take off his jacket later. The waitress was wiping a glass slowly, as if time had no right over her.
He kept his eyes half closed for a moment. When he opened them again, he saw the movie posters that decorated the walls. He lingered for a moment on the one for Paris, Texas. Since he had retired, his perception of time had changed and he no longer cared about its passage. Little by little, he had begun to escape the slightest constraints, organizing his outings according to those of the majority. He left his apartment when others went home, and vice versa, carefully avoiding peak hours and crowds. He liked to say that he lived between the hours, that he had become a shadow.
Daniel was part of a special, invisible community whose members had the ability to recognize each other at a glance. Some of them dated each other, while others preferred their solitude. For a while Daniel had been one of those. And then he had come out of his reserve to exchange a book or a few whispered words, always away from the busy passages. That evening he had just picked up a book before being surprised by the storm. He had put it on the table. He unfolded the cloth that protected it and took off his coat.
The waitress approached with a small notebook. Daniel raised his hand toward his book. He still had time, with a gesture, to make it disappear in his coat. But something about the way she walked, the way she looked in another direction, seemed familiar. He refrained and took the menu to show her what he wanted to take. As she wrote down the order he watched her and noticed her gaze resting on the cover of the book.
- Do you know it?
- I haven't read that one yet
- I can lend it to you if you want
- Really?
- Books are meant to be passed around
- You won't miss it?
- The knowledge contained in this book is precious but nothing can replace experience. Books are doors that open new ways but it is up to us to use them and maybe change our lives
- You know I'm just a waitress, like my mother. She worked in a bar on rue de Vaugirard. She knew a man there twenty-five years ago, who disappeared after I was born
Daniel swallowed and turned pale.
- Are you all right, sir?
- I'm fine, I'm fine
- I'll prepare everything for you then. And thanks for the book. If I'm not on duty when you come back, I'll leave it here.
She was leaving when Daniel stopped :
- Excuse me but what is your mother's name?
- Martha, why?
- For nothing, for nothing, thank you
Daniel watched her walk away and turned his head to see the rain falling - maybe also to hide that tear that was running down his cheek, like the drops that were running on the glass. "Martha, why didn't you tell me?
The rain suddenly stopped and, in the middle of the clouds, the moon appeared.
Teri Nour
Note: I had translated my own text below in french. I apologize for this appoximative translation. Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
Pluie et Lune
Daniel tournait à l’angle de la rue du détour lorsque l’orage éclata. Il regarda aussitôt autour de lui, cherchant des yeux un abri, lorsqu’il vit un bar. Il s’y engouffra pour échapper à la pluie. Derrière le bar, la serveuse était immobile et regardait par la grande baie vitrée donnant sur la rue. Daniel se tourna également. Un éclair parcourut le ciel comme une fêlure et illumina leurs visages silencieux.
Daniel, tel un fantôme, se glissa sans bruit sur la banquette la plus proche. Il dirigea son regard vers la rue. La vitre renvoyait faiblement son reflet, traversé par les feux des voitures qui glissaient dans le soir tombant. Un poste radio émettait une chanson à peine audible, datant d’une époque révolue et enveloppant les lieux d’une atmosphère tendrement nostalgique.
Daniel fuyait les endroits où une musique trop bruyante écrasait tout et les vendeurs vous tombaient dessus à peine le seuil franchit. Il s’appuya au dossier. Il enlèverait sa veste tout à l’heure. La serveuse essuyait un verre avec lenteur, comme si le temps n’avait aucun droit sur elle.
Il garda les yeux mi-clos un instant. En les rouvrant il vit les affiches de films qui décoraient les murs. Il s’attarda un instant sur celle de Paris, Texas. Depuis qu’il avait pris sa retraite sa perception du temps avait changé et son passage ne le souciait plus. Peu à peu il s’était mis à fuir les moindres contraintes, organisant ses sorties en fonction de celles du plus grand nombre. Il quittait son appartement quand les autres rentraient chez eux, et inversement, évitant soigneusement les heures de pointes et les affluences. Il se plaisait à dire qu’il vivait entre les heures, qu’il était devenu une ombre.
Daniel faisait partie d’une communauté à part, invisible, dont les membres avaient la faculté de se reconnaître d’un simple regard. Certains se fréquentaient alors que d’autres préféraient leur solitude. Pendant un temps Daniel avait été de ceux-là. Et puis il était sorti de sa réserve pour échanger tantôt un livre tantôt quelques mots murmurés, toujours à l’écart des passages fréquentés. Ce soir-là il venait de récupérer un ouvrage avant d’être surpris par l’orage. Il l’avait posé sur la table. Il déplia le linge qui le protégeait et enleva son manteau.
La serveuse s’approcha avec un petit calepin. Daniel leva la main vers son recueil. Il avait encore le temps, d’un geste, de le faire disparaître dans son manteau. Mais quelque chose dans sa démarche, sa façon de marcher en regardant dans une autre direction, lui parut familière. Il s’abstint et prit le menu afin de lui montrer ce qu’il souhaitait prendre. Tandis qu’elle notait la commande il l’observa et remarqua son regard se poser sur la couverture du livre.
– Vous connaissez ?
– Je n’ai pas encore lu celui-là
– Je peux vous le prêter si vous voulez
– Vraiment ?
– Les livres sont faits pour circuler
– Il ne vous fera pas défaut ?
– Le savoir contenu dans ce livre est précieux mais rien ne remplacera l’expérience. Les livres sont des portes qui ouvrent de nouvelles voies mais c’est à nous de les emprunter et peut-être de changer notre vie
– Vous savez je ne suis qu’une serveuse, comme ma mère. Elle travaillait dans un bar rue de Vaugirard. Elle y a connu un homme il y a vingt-cinq ans, qui a disparu après ma naissance
Daniel déglutit et pâlit.
– Vous allez bien monsieur ?
– Ça va, ça va
– Je vous prépare tout ça alors. Et merci pour le livre. Si je ne suis pas de service quand vous reviendrez, je le laisserai ici.
Elle s’en allait lorsque Daniel l’arrêta :
– Excusez-moi mais comment se prénomme votre mère ?
– Martha, pourquoi ?
– Pour rien, pour rien, merci
Daniel la regarda s’éloigner et tourna la tête pour voir la pluie tomber – peut-être aussi pour cacher cette larme qui coulait sur joue, comme les gouttes qui couraient sur la vitre. « Martha, pourquoi ne m’as-tu rien dit ? ».
La pluie cessa soudain et, au milieu des nuages apparut, la Lune.
le 21 mai 2021
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i did not fucking ask for bo burnhams special to make me feel the way it did
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Hey I just read the yandere Jason's todd and I was thinking about how you said Dami was still looking for his darling/soulmate. What if yan damian found his darling at his Schools art room and she has a service dog? Like she loves painting and I saw on TikTok that a dog can paint to so there is a little set up for her dog and another for her. Can I request a story about this? Hope you are having a good day/night!
Thank you so much for this request! I love the idea.
Y/N= Your Name
Y/L/N= Your Last Name
Y/E/C= your eye color
Warning: Major Fluff
~*~
Damian Wayne had been stopped after school but a group of squealing girls he had not interest in talking to. They all wanted the same thing, his last name and his money. They didn’t understand he had no interest in any of them.
“Damian! want to go get ice cream with me?”
“Damian! will you help me study for the math test?”
“Damian! Will you be my boyfriend?”
All he heard was them just shouting his name, if those insufferable people wanted to talk so badly why couldn’t they even just talk like normal people? But he had to admit even then he wouldn’t give them the time of day. But he knew with his name he had to seem polite even if he wanted to run away, so he decided to combine the two.
“Sorry, I must go. I need to go get something from one of the classrooms.”
A chorus of shouts started up again with every one of them saying they would go with him.
“Alone.” He stressed before quickly walked or more so ran back inside the school building. He heard them rush after him so he quickly darted into the nearest classroom and shut the door behind him, which happened to be the art room.Damian had his back to the door and he heard the footsteps rush past the door in search of him.
“Hello?” He heard, at first he was worried it was another fan girl that one bombard him but when he looked up and stared into beautiful Y/E/C eyes, it felt as if time had stopped. He admired the girl who was standing in front of an easel in the center of the room. She had on a white shirt with denim overall and a pair of converse. But she was covered in paint, blue in her hair, white on her hands, even more colors covered her legs, shoes, face, pants, and even her white shirt.
After he gained some awareness of how it would come across as creepy if he kept staring he looked down to the smaller easel that was on the floor next to her and saw an adorable dog with their own painting in front of them. There was a plastic sheet on the floor so they didn’t get paw prints all over the floor as their paws were covered in purple paint.
“Hello?” The girl questioned again before he looked back up at her and he finally moved from the door, closer to the girl.
“Hi, sorry to barge in like that.” Damian apologized in a apologetic manner.
“Oh! No worries. It just startled me a bit but then I heard all the foot steps pass the door, too which I assume you were running from people.” She spoke very analytically. Damian feel even more in love. She had a dog, she wasn’t squealing, she was very aware, and she was also very adorable as he saw the paint on her.
“You are very clever.” He replied smoothly making her blush to which Damian smirked.
“Thank you.” She spoke shyly. Damian could tell she was rather anxious so he kept talking to try and ease her nerves. Damian knew he wanted her to be his soulmate as the other bats. But he preferred the term beloved.
“May i see your paintings?”
“Sure.” She spoke nervously. Y/N wasn’t too confident as a person do showing her art to someone was very nerves racking, that was why she was there after school so she could finish her painting and not worry about the people around her, also because her teacher said she could try and see if her dog could paint like she saw others do on Tik tok.
Damian walked over to the girl and he dog and stood rather close to her, looking at the painting quite closely as to have ma excuse to stand next to her.
He looked at the painting and saw a silhouette of Gotham at night, he knew this because there was a image of the bat signal painted towards the night sky.
“This is amazing.” Damian complimented making her blush. She really wasn’t blushing because it was Damian Wayne making the comments but just because someone was making the comments in the first place. Damian then crouched down on the side closest to the dog and let the dog sniff his hand before he pet them while he looked at the dogs painting.
“This is a very cute idea, I might have to try this with my dog Titus, whats your dogs name?” He spoke as he looked at the purple paw prints at were on the canvas.
“His name is Padfoot, after the-“
“Harry Potter series? Sirius black right?” Y/N glowed at the thought of him knowing where her dogs name came from. She was really expecting him to be mean like some of the other people at school when they asked her dogs name. They thought the name padfoot was stupid and she should have named her dog like shadow or something based off the dark fur.
Damian saw her change in demeanor and smirked before continuing.
“I love the Harry Potter series.” 
“Me too! Well you probably already knew that because of the name but-“
“Hey, it’s fine.” Damian reassured as she started to rant and stumble on her words. Damian loved Y/N’s shyness. It meant he had to worry about a lot less people being in the way. Then he realized he didn’t even know her name yet.
“What’s your name?” He questioned in subtle flirty tone.
“I’m y/n! What’s yours?” She did already know his name but she assumed that he would like to introduce himself. He liked that.
“Wayne, Damian Wayne.” He held out a hand for her to shake and she went to do so before noticing all the paint of her hands.
“Nice to meet you, I’d shake your hand but I’d feel bad getting paint on you.” Damian smiled slightly at her kind nature and proceeded to shake her hand anyway that seemed to fit perfectly in his. He didn’t even hardly pay attention to the white paint that was in his hands.
“It’s alright.” He said as he saw her looking alarmed at the paint on his hands.
Damian wanted to move quickly. He wanted to make her his as soon as possible. So he began another conversation and asked her about her life such as her friends, family, what area of Gotham she lived in, if she was single; to which she blushed brightly at as she replied with a quick yes as she never even held hands with a boy before. Damian was pleased with all the answers, and he felt very protective over her as she told him her address. He had to keep her safe if she was just waking around telling her address to anybody. Of course he wouldn’t be just anybody to her but it didn’t mean that she wouldn’t go telling other people who he knew didn’t deserve it know.
Damian didn’t want to go the route Timothy Drake did. He didn’t want to immediately force her to be his. He wanted something that made him feel the love that he was neglected of for years. He found his beloved and he knew that he had to be gentle in a way. But he could tell she was perfect for him.
She had finished her painting and put it over but the others from class the day and Padfoots had dried so she picked up the small easel and put it in her bag.
“I should probably head home now.” She spoke after she put Padfoot back on his leash and washed most of the paint off his paws. Damian panicked slightly as he didn’t want their time to end but, he also knew he could go home and search up everything he could find on the bat computer.
They walked out to the front together and saw Alfred patiently waiting in the car while reading a book. He looked up and saw Damian walking out alongside Y/N and smiled to himself slightly. He knew the boy deserved love, and it seemed that he had found his.
Y/N was tempted to ask for his number, but she didn’t want to come across as clingy or pushy. She had deeply enjoyed talking to him and she wanted to further.
“Pass me your phone.” Damian said with a slight demanding tone. Y/N did so without hesitation making Damian smirk as he typed in his number and put his name in the contact. He sent a messages to himself after and discreetly changed her contact name to ‘My Beloved ❥’ and handed back her phone.
“There, I texted myself from your phoen so we have each other’s numbers. Text me whenever you want.” Y/N smiled brightly at him making him smile back.
She began to wave goodbye and make the walk back home but he stopped her once he saw her start walking.
“Wait you’re walk home? Alone? But you live so far.”
“Yeah, my parents are always working so they can’t come get me. But it’s okay, I’m used to walking home .” But Damian immediately begins shaking his head. He knew the dangers of being in Gotham as he has seen many first hand. He wouldn’t allow his beloved to be so unprotected.
“I’ll give you a ride home from now on okay?” He spoke decidedly. She began to shake her head no.
“I couldn’t ask to do do that-“
“You didn’t ask, I told you. I’m going to give you a ride home, it’s too dangerous out there by yourself.”
“But I got Padfoot to protect me!” She spoke innocently while holding up the shaggy black dog.
Damian looked at her with a look that left no room for argument.
“Fine… but just this once.” Y/N said before following him over to the sleek black car.
“Definitely not only once, but believe what you want to believe. I can be quite… persuasive.”
Damian opened the door for her to get it and he helped her inside before getting in on the other side while Alfred glanced in the mirror every so often.
“Hello. Nice to meet you, what’s your name sir?” She spoke politely looking at Alfred as he looked up in the mirror.
“I’m Alfred Pennyworth. And you are?”
“Y/N L/N.”
“Nice to meet you as well Miss L/N.”
She smiled at him as he saw in the mirror and he slightly smiled back and could already tell she was a kind person. Perfect for Damian and the Wayne family.
Her and Damian talked the whole ride to her house after she gave Alfred her address. Once they arrived Damian tried not to look to disappointed and continued to reassure himself that he would see her the next day for sure. He would also look her up on the bat computer.
They pulled up in front of a nice house that resided in a sketchy area, well all of Gotham was sketchy but Damian remembered one of the warehouse down the street was one of Jokers hold hideouts and he stopped a drug sale a few houses down and not to even mention the-
Before he continue she opened her door and stepped out of the car.
“Thank you for the ride Mr.Pennyworth. Bye Dami!” She said happily as she set Padfoot out of the car as well and made her way into the house. As the door shut behind her he snapped out of his trance of thinking of all the dangers and the fact she already gave him a nickname.
“Beat that Todd.” Damian thought to himself as he was already making more progress in a day than Todd and Grayson had in weeks with their soulmates.
“I presume that’s her Master Wayne?”
“Definitely Pennyworth. She’s My Beloved.”
~*~
I hope you liked it ♡
#yandere damian wayne x reader#yandere damian wayne#damian wayne x reader#jason todd#alfred pennyworth#batboys#batman#Damian Wayne#x reader#dc universe#yandere#soulmate
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Genshin: Roommate HCs [V1]
To be honest, I just wanted to ramble some more and let my brainworms take over. This is sorta late but Happy Valentine’s everyone! I was gonna post this earlier but this honestly took me a long time to write so I moved it to today.
Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. Seriously, as much as I love writing this non-serious fics. Why do you people like this?
—
Based off my ramblings with Keqing anon: Link
Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]
Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]
Genshin: University AU [V1]
Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]
[Masterlist]
—
[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.
@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @kaechu @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @rokipersonal@minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact
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Diluc
What? Diluc has a roommate? Did you blackmail him in living with you? Is that even possible? Did you throw yourself in front of his car because you needed someone to pay for your student loans and the easiest way was to file a lawsuit? In this economy no one would blame you. Diluc seems like such the self-isolated character that would murder his roommate in cold blood but in reality, he act’s detached from the world because he forgot how to socialize and he’s desperately trying to cover it up without choking. That or he’s trying to learn how to astral project. If he could drink away the pain he would but instead he buys 20 packs of grape Kool-Aid and injects it into his veins.
Does not and will not ever have a normal sleeping schedule. You’ll wake up to him working, come back home to him working, and will sleep to him still working. His daily dose of Vitamin D is from the brightness of his screen rather than the sun and he’s filter feeding at this point. It’s concerning. He’s going to crumble and he’s bringing the world down with him. Through the power of tax evasion. But as soon as he needs to walk out into society, he pulls movie magic and looks like perfection. It’s both physically and mentally disgusting.
He’s actually is a really nice roommate to have just so long as you give him space. Great cook and knows to clean up after himself. Though he does have crash and burn days where’s he’s completely out of commission. You could set the entire apartment on fire and he would sleep through it. The entire two weeks are dedicated to zombie eye marathons and then he’ll suddenly collapse and sleep for 46 hours straight. When he wakes up from his hibernation he’s the most groggy and nonsensical person. His life blood is coffee because you keep hiding the 5 hour energy away from him because, you know, life is enjoyable and those cancer bottles will actually kill him.
“University sucks our money out of our bodies faster than our will to live.”
Beidou [Happy Birthday Queen 💕]
Despite her appearance, she’s actually really strong and it scares the piss out of you when you’re doing something or scrolling through your phone mindlessly and you suddenly get your spine re-arranged when she slaps you on the back to ask what you’re doing. Likewise, when she hoists you up and throws you over her shoulder so you come with her on her 3am convivence store raids for alcohol. It’s either you change now or else we’re walking out of the apartment in your t-shirt and no pants self. She can and will carry you under her arm that way. It’s both incredibly attractive and horrifying at the same time.
She’s really friendly and a great talker if you’re alright with her “I must hold you in my arms, fresh prince of bel air style”. It doesn’t matter if you’re taller than her, she’s doing it. She does however, get in a bit of trouble from her rowdiness and you often get noise complaints but Beidou just passes them off to Ningguang and everything is fixed. She has ovaries of steel when neighbors rather confront her personally and she’s ready to 1v1 in the parking lot. You’re trying to desperately hold onto her shirt to stop her from pile driving your neighbors for the third time this week but she’s too strong.
She’s constant party until we die attitude and suffers the hangover in the morning. It’s actually really funny to catch her in her hangover moods because whatever filter Beidou had, which is none, is gone. She really takes “cursing like a sailor” or the next level and the amount of creativity she comes up with is actually impressive. She can be a bit messy but she’s really likeable and always down to go anywhere with you as long as you’ll do the same. It’s a very ride together, we die together situation. You’re my best friend, you’re dying with me. I’ll see you in hell.
“Imma T pose over my dad and then crash the car into the parking garage.”
Kaeya
Kaeya on the surface seems like such a chill roommate. And he is for the most part. But he’s such an ass. Your things are his things, no questions asked. If you just bought a really nice sweater or you had leftover food, that’s his now. He’s innocent until proven guilty even if he’s literally holding your lunch. The pure amount of bullshit he can spit out to convince you that no, he did not pull the fire alarm because he wanted an excuse for not going to work, puts him on Shakespeare level. He’s also very pretty, way too pretty, sir can you share some of your genes?
But aside from that, he’s actually super dependable. You forgot something at home? Sure, he has nothing better to do so he can bring them for you. We’re missing eggs? No problem, he’s just by the store. You’re 95% sure that he just wants to be cheeky and make you thank him for 20 minutes before he actually hands you what you asked for. It’s better for you if you never tell him anything you’re afraid of because Kaeya has no social cues, or more like he throws them out the window, and he’s probably a psychopath.
He’s incredibly private of his room and things despite his attitude towards yours. You’re convinced he either has a secret lab or that’s where he’s storing the bodies. I was the good guy but due to unfortunate circumstances, I need to stab a bitch. But he’s a really good serious talker for those 3am, because everything happens at 3am, talks about life and the meaning of the universe. It absolutely wrecks your sleep schedule but some of the things you talk about are the most crackhead things like what’s the lowest amount of money someone would have to pay you to walk outside without clothes? It’s a legitimate question.
“Never before have I been so offended with something I 100% agree with.”
Jean
Okay, what world did you save in a past life to live with his absolutely wonderful woman? Mother Teresa take a load off, take a seat. You have nothing to worry about. She’ll bring home little treats back home and it’s the most wholesome thing ever?? Is this what love and affection feels like? We’ve been starved for so long. She says it’s not a big deal and anyone would do it BUT THE MOMENT SOMEONE BUYS FOOD FOR YOU. IT’S A MAGICAL MOMENT. They are forever stuck in your will until proven otherwise. An absolute ray of sunshine that must be protected.
She does get super busy so you don’t often see each other or get to hang out as much. She’s a bit of a workaholic but a lot more easier to talk her into taking a break. She’s also a pretty decent cook but she prefers baking and jesus christ, girl can you calm down? Be still my beating heart, I’ve been smitten. Has mother hen vibes that you’re not sure if she’s your roommate or if she adopted you into her family. It’s time to start a petition for the Jean protection squad. Given the opportunity, I would aggressively hold your hand.
She’s always open to whatever you want to do. Any recommendations or things that you like she will try out at least once despite her busy schedule. She’s lowkey lonely because work consumes her so any time you want to hang out or do something together, she jumps on it like she’s feral. She get’s a bit shy to ask if she can join in on your plans because she doesn’t want to bother you or intrude no matter how many times you tell her that’s okay, she still get’s a bit iffy about it. Please save this girl before she trips. In your arms. Platonically. Just kidding haha. Unless?
“I can’t wait to see you happy and not hating everyone again haha.”
Childe
First impressions of Childe were great, until he opened his mouth and you realized how much of a two brain cell child(e) he was. He has two braincells because they constantly have to 1v1 in his brain. He’s lived with a lot of siblings so he has no social awareness or concept of privacy that you’re lucky if you come home and he’s half-dressed. It doesn’t matter if you’re 2 weeks older than him, he’s going to call you 82 years old and why your bones aren’t being fossilized at this point. He’s such a little shit, this fucker licks the yogurt lid peel.
He get’s really restless when he’s stuck under house arrest, because apparently 1v1ing in the parking lot of a Wendy’s is illegal for some reason, so he makes dying whale noises until he get’s to go outside again. But he’s actually a really wholesome guy, probably because of his younger siblings, that he’ll sometimes get you something because you seemed down and it’s such whiplash? Who is this man and where did he come from? You’re starting to have a change of heart before he tells you that he got banned from the library for accidently punching the school’s computer. How you “accidently” punch something you have no idea but Childe always comes home with some sort of injury. Maybe he’s just incredibly clumsy. For your sanity, you’re going to go with that.
He’s actually so uncultured that it’s crippling. You can’t blame him too much considering his upbringing and it’s great that he’s so interested in learning new things but...child no...It makes you want to take your spine out of your ass and rip it like a Beyblade. Watching him take chopsticks and stab his food like it’s marshmallows makes you want to fall into a blackhole and let the chair consume you.
“I, too, fantasize about beating the living shit out of people.”
---
Is this another tag yourself game cause I resonate with Diluc. I’m crying in insomnia. As much as I enjoy writing these fics I absolutely hate tagging them. I remember I used to have a tag anon but that was back when I wrote for bnha.
Valentine’s Day was fun tho. I had a drinking game with friends as we played league then ended it off with a movie night.
#genshin#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin imagines#genshin impact imagines#genshin fanfic#genshin impact fanfiction#genshin headcanons#genshin impact headcanons#genshin crack#genshin impact crack#genshin impact childe#childe x reader#genshin childe x reader#genshin impact diluc#diluc x reader#genshin diluc x reader#genshin impact beidou#beidou x reader#genshin beidou x reader#genshin impact jean#genshin jean x reader#jean x reader#genshin impact kaeya#kaeya x reader#genshin kaeya x reader
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Adventures in babysitting - Nanami Kento
Everyone say it with me now: Fucking! The! Babysitter! Femme reader, 3K words
Content warnings: noncon that turns dubcon, cheating, age gap(imagine nanami to be mid forties, 45 preferably), uhm there’s fingers in your mouth in case you’re not into that lol
Nanami was at his wits end with you. One day after another you continued to test his patience and you didn’t even know it. It was becoming so hard to even look you in the eyes let alone be in the same room as you.
Having feelings for the babysitter wasn’t something he should have, he knew this, but at this age Nanami wasn’t one to deny himself the things he truly so desired. The way you pranced around in shorts much too short to be worn around his family, your silly little summer tops bustling in the wind and exposing your midriff, even the way you ate ice cream could be deemed inappropriate.
“Papa, (Y/N)’s here!” His young son shouted one sweltering summer afternoon, breaking Nanami from his daydream of you and bringing him into the present where you were being escorted into his house by his wife.
Standing there in a pair of those little shorts and a tank top that showed a cleavage, skin probably smelling of freshly applied sunscreen and hot to the touch from the sun, it made Nanami’s pants tighten. Coming to stand next to the woman he married, his eyes were still drawn to you.
The words you were saying went in one ear and out the other. You might as well have been speaking another language, Nanami wasn’t following along at all. He was busy tracing the outline of your body, unsullied by the hands of time like he was.
“Bye mama!” Hugging his mother tightly, Nanami’s son pounced on him next. “Bye papa!”
“Have fun you two!” Nanami’s wife spoke for the both of them as you walked off, back to your car with his child.
Hours passed and Nanami still found himself thinking of you, even as he and his wife had sex in your absence. Cupping her ass, he thought of what it would feel like to slip his hands down your shorts and feel yours. As he kissed her, he closed his eyes and pretended it was your mouth his tongue was in. Pulling out and cumming on her cunt, he only wished it was you beneath him, then he would never pull out.
“We’re back!” When you made your return as the sun set, Nanami found it so convenient that his wife had gone down the street to talk to a neighbor.
“Mama’s across the street with the neighbor girl, why don’t you go say hi to them? Tell them all about the movie you saw?” Nanami asked while you had excused yourself to the bathroom.
Turning around and fixing his collar, Nanami smirked as the screen door slammed closed. Walking straight to the guest bathroom, there was no hesitation in his stride, throwing open the door with confidence.
“S-sir!” You’d clearly just finished using the toilet, yanking your shorts back up over your hips as the toilet lid slammed closed. Nanami didn’t say a word as he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, clicking the lock into place.
“Did you have fun today? At the movies with my son.” His voice was low, calm and cool despite the nerves tingling just under his skin.
“Yes.” Answering him slowly, your hands splayed out to try and cover your front. For some reason, you couldn’t find it in you to do up the button on your shorts, but you still had half a mind to try and appear decent.
“I bet you got a lot of stares.” That statement had your head tilting in confusion and Nanami chuckled. “A sweet young girl like you is sure to attract attention. Why, I bet people thought he was your little brother and not my kid.”
“E-excuse me sir, but-” Surely this conversation could be had outside the bathroom, and you tried to reach around Nanami to open the door.
“I’m not finished.” Snatching you by the waist, Nanami pressed you against the sink counter and stared at you through the mirror, letting his eyes rake more obviously over your figure. “Yes, I know for sure you got stares.”
“Sir!” Gripping the edge of the counter, you were helpless to stop Nanami as he ground his hardening cock over your ass, his fingers making it harder to breath as they trickled up to clutch at your ribs.
Pressing his nose into the side of your neck, Nanami closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. You smelled exactly like the sunscreen he thought you would and the heat from the summer sun still lingered on your body, warming his lips as he kissed you.
“Please let go, this isn’t- isn’t appropriate.” Wriggling in his hold, you clawed at his fingers to let you go. Despite the wear and tear years of fighting curses had brought onto his body, Nanami was still just as strong as when he was younger.
“What would a girl like you know about what’s appropriate? Prancing around my house in those shorts with your ass hanging out.” Wrapping one arm completely around your waist, Nanami snuck his other hand down your shorts, pushing the loose fabric down until it pooled at your ankles and he was able to grab onto your ass.
Keeping his eyes closed, Nanami rubbed and grabbed your ass to his heart’s content. He often stayed up at night agonizing about you and now he was finally getting what he wanted. Pushing your panties down your legs as well, his middle finger dipped between the curve of your ass and grazed your slit.
“Let me go!” Your voice had risen to a scream, desperately hopeful someone else was in the house and would hear your cries. Nanami let silence fall over the two of you, his middle finger lazily circling your cunt and making your thighs twitch against your will.
“Scream and shout all you want, it’s just me and you here.” Opening his eyes to look at you, Nanami sighs when he sees the tears streaming down your face. “Why’re you crying?”
“I don’t- this, please-”
“Sshhh…” Silencing your babbles, Nanami brought his hand to the front of your body, middle finger pressing firmly on your clit. “I know what you need, so just relax and be a good girl.” Flicking his finger, he smirked as you gasped loudly, one hand flying from the counter to grip onto his shirt sleeve.
Locked in a stare, Nanami watched your mouth hang open in shock as he massaged your clit, bringing in two more fingers and making bigger circles. There was slick building between your legs, gradually making his fingers glide easier over your swollen bud. Nudging your legs open a little further, Nanami slid his fingers down to your entrance.
“I’ll go slow for you.” He whispered gently into your ear. Prodding with one finger, he worked the long digit into your cunt, groaning at the way your walls clamped down tightly around it.
Keeping his thumb on your clit, Nanami pumped his finger in and out, kissing up and down your neck as he went. Slowly, your open mouth closed and your lip was caught between your teeth to keep small whimpers of pleasure at bay.
Adding in a second finger, Nanami had you fully rocking back and forth on his fingers, an orgasm that you didn’t want beginning to build between your legs. The slow, gradual pleasure that had built up was blurring the lines of what was right and what was wrong, the fact that this man was your married boss didn’t really matter any more.
Grinding onto his hand, you came with an embarrassed yelp and squeezed Nanami’s hand tightly with your legs. His thumb moved faster as your walls spasmed around his fingers, wanting - and getting - you to whine and moan loudly.
“Sir!” Stamping your feet as the pleasure reached a near painful peak, you forced your legs to relax and let Nanami go. Slipping his fingers out of your cunt, he circled your clit a few times before pulling away.
Grabbing your head with his clean hand, Nanami turned you to kiss him over your shoulder. The angle was awkward and a bit of a strain, but Nanami slid his tongue into your mouth with ease, quickly tracing along your mouth and committing it to memory.
The clanking of his belt buckle brought you back to what was happening outside of the dizzying kiss. The warmth from Nanami’s hard cock was no longer trapped behind a layer of fabric, it was right against your skin and nuzzling between your ass cheeks.
Breaking the kiss, you looked down at his cock. Just like the hair on his head, the trim patch of hair above his cock was starting to gray with a few streaks running alongside blond. Taking your hand from his sleeve, Nanami wrapped your fingers around his cock.
“Look what you’ve done to this old man.” He chuckled, moving your fingers up and down his shaft. A few beads of precum dripped out, coating the outside of your hand and leaving shiny strands of gossamer fluid connecting you to him.
Letting go of your hand to kiss you again, Namai was pleased that you kept stroking him on your own. You were even daring enough to smear more of his precum against the palm of your hand and use it for added lubrication. Going down to his balls, the feather light touches you gave them with the tips of your fingers made a short high pitched moan leave Nanami’s throat.
“Enough playing.” Grunting to cover up the unexpected noise, Nanami turned you back to face the sink and smoothed his hand down your back, pushing you to bend over the sink. Grabbing the base of his cock, Nanami guided himself into your cunt, shuddering deeply at the warmth enveloping him.
Putting his chest flush with your back, Nanami rested his forehead against your shoulder and caught his breath. Fucking you was something that was on his mind constantly, especially when he had sex with his wife. To finally feel the tight velvety walls of your cunt clamp down around his cock, it almost made him cum.
“Ha, not as young as I used to be.” A bittersweet sigh left his lips as he regained his self control and stood up a little straighter. Pushing his once perfectly styled hair out of his eyes, Nanami snaked a hand up your shirt and tugged your bra down enough to cup your breast and mold the flesh between his fingertips. “How do you feel?”
“Sir I-”
“Say my name.” Nanami cut you off swiftly, rolling your nipple in his fingers as he did. “Call me Kento when we’re alone.” Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you nodded and looked him in the eyes through the mirror.
“K-kento…” You say his name slowly, letting it roll and drip down the tip of your tongue, “I feel so full.” Your answer makes Nanami's head fall back, a wave of pride stroking his ego and bolstering his confidence.
It wasn’t like him to lack any in his day to day life, going about his business and doing what he had to do. But over the years, with an aging and changing body, Nanami had begun to wonder deep down inside if he was becoming less of the man he used to be in his 20’s.
“That’s what I love to hear.” But you’d brought it back for him tenfold. You, the babysitter that he shouldn’t be doing any of this with yet fantasized about every day. Giving an appreciative roll of his hips, Nanami smiled at you.
“Now, let me take care of you.” Hunching over your body once more, Nanami pulled his cock out slowly, teasing you with the leisurely drag of his cock before snapping his hips forward and making the first of many loud moans fall from your lips.
Massaging your breast in time with his thrusts, Nanami made sure your ass stayed flush with him as he fucked you. He wanted to drag this out for as long as possible and that meant shallowly humping your cunt like a pathetic teenager.
His lips never strayed far from your neck and he kissed down your back as well, careful not to leave any marks you’d have a hard time explaining to his wife. Instead of leaving the marks of his teeth he left large wet kisses all along your exposed skin.
“Kento, faster!” You sobbed, growing increasingly impatient for him to move. While the lazy thrusts had your legs trembling they weren’t enough to get you to cum.
“So cute when you whine.” Nanami hummed and he could feel himself getting wrapped around your finger. He didn’t have the heart to even think of denying you what you wanted and he stood up, giving you more room to breathe, but only for a moment.
Dropping both hands to your hips, Nanami properly thrust forward and the slap of your ass against his skin could be heard well outside the bathroom. A hunger to have you cum on his cock washed over him and his fingers dropped down to your clit once again.
“Fuck, Kento-” You cried, knees threatening to buckle and give out on you from the sudden pleasure. Wrapping an arm around your hips, Nanami kept you upright as he pounded into you.
Nanami could feel his own orgasm approaching quickly the longer he went. The slick gushing out of you was making it far too easy to pump you full of his cock, your essence dripping down his balls and coating his thighs.
“Papa?” The sudden curious voice of his son had Nanami stuttering to a halt and both your pounding hearts beat even harder. Falling completely silent, you waited for a knock at the door or any other indication the child had heard you two.
Pattering little feet against hardwood were the only things heard in the house, muffled only slightly by your heavy breathing. Listening intently, the footsteps drifted away from the lounge room and up the stairs.
“Keep quiet for me.” Nanami whispered as he began to pump his cock again, this time going as slow as he was before. He kept his fingers on your clit and rubbed tight circles, exhaling sharply through his nose as you whined.
Slapping a hand over your mouth as his son's feet thumped against the stairs once more, Nanami’s brows shot up when you opened your mouth and took his fingers in, flattening them against the curve of your tongue and sucking on them.
Nanami wanted to snarl at the seductive look you cast him in the mirror, your lips wrapped tightly around his fingers and your head slightly bobbing up and down as if it were his cock you were sucking.
When the sound of the front door slamming closed again met his ears, Nanami resumed the vigorous pace he had set previously. Keeping his fingers in your mouth, he snapped his hips forward and pushed the worries of cumming too early to the side.
“Be good and cum for me, naughty girl.” Gliding his fingers along your tongue, Nanami pried your mouth open and grabbed the tip of your tongue, pulling it out from your mouth and making drool drip down your chin. “Messy little thing, aren’t you?” Letting go of your tongue, he smeared your saliva all over your cheeks.
Pushing your ass back against Nanami, your moans reached a crashing crescendo and your knees knocked together. Nanami rubbed your clit furiously as you came, not stopping his thrusts until he was cumming deep inside you and filling you up with the hot, sticky fluid.
“Kento, Kento-” You cried, gripping the counter for dear life. It was a struggle to stay upright and even more of one to remember to breathe properly as your orgasm washed over you. Nanami hadn’t made it any easier, fucking the both of you into overstimulation.
“Good girl, what a good girl for me.” His voice was long gone, wispy and distant as he came down from his high. Keeping his cock snugly inside you he took his fingers off your clit, giving you some reprieve. Bringing them up to his mouth, he sucked on them loudly and licked all of your release off.
Your upper body collapsed against the counter, chest heaving painfully as you struggled for breath. Nanami kept your hips up as he pulled out, spreading your asscheeks apart to watch his seed begin to drip out of you. Letting out a low whistle, he thumbed your clit one last time before leaning over and grabbing some toilet paper, gingerly cleaning you up as you came down.
Once everything was back in order, your clothes fixed and lips thoroughly kissed just one last time, Nanami slowly opened the door. He hadn’t heard the front door open, the voices of his family weren’t resounding through the house. The coast was clear.
“Here’s payment for today.” Just as promised when you planned this outing with his child, Nanami handed you an envelope with your money inside.
“Thank you, sir.” You said quietly, quickly backtracking when Nanami quirked a brow at you. “I mean Kento.”
“That’s better.” Patting you on the back, Nanami pressed a sneaky kiss to your forehead before stepping back and opening the front door for you. “I hope you know this wasn’t a one time thing.”
Unable to answer, you giggle and smile shyly back at him. The gentle smile on his face has a certain flutter coming to your stomach; Nanami has given you special attention, one that you know for sure he isn’t giving to anyone else.
“Get home safe, (Y/N).” He says softly, giving a curt wave of his hand as you walked out of the house and to your car, your panties safely tucked inside his front pocket.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#nanami kento#nanami x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen scenarios
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Albert’s Drinking Contest: Chapter 2
“——This is, the twentieth!”
Announcing the number of glasses he’d drained, Moran set his empty wine glass on the table with a thud.
He was still clear-headed, and able to hold a conversation. But those wild features of his were now flushed, as red as the copious amounts of wine that had entered his stomach.
“Ready to give up now, Albert?”
In his tipsy, trembly vision, Moran beheld his opponent before him.
But far from giving up, Albert was completely sober. There was no discernible change in his complexion; as if he’d started drinking right there and then, he tipped back his glass, and downed his wine with ease.
With that, they were now tied at 20 glasses each. Ignoring the man staring at him with twitching eyes, Albert called out to Louis, who was still serving as their waiter.
“No matter how many glasses I drink, this profound flavour never ceases to delight. To have procured such an excellent vintage — your selections are exquisite as always, Louis.”
“Thank you very much. As I recall, this is an import from America.”
“Ah: I’ve heard that the French vineyards are still afflicted with blight. [1] It’s a pity we won’t be able to enjoy their splendid red wines for some time to come; but it’s also our good fortune to have learned about the quality of wines from the New World.” [2]
“…………”
Albert was being much too relaxed, and had even started to digress into areas completely unrelated to the match; hearing that, Moran shot him a look of displeasure.
Incidentally, the challenge had been much too great for Fred: he’d been the first to pass out, flopping onto the table with his glass in hand. Immediately after, they’d covered him with a blanket so he wouldn’t catch a cold, and the man was presently fast asleep.
“Well then, both sides have managed to consume twenty glasses. It seems both of you still have room for more, but…… if I were to speak from an impartial standpoint, you appear to be at a slight disadvantage, Moran.”
Having observed their match, William leisurely shared his views.
Moran knew his analysis was unbiased, and that was precisely why he let out a groan of frustration. His face flushed, he grabbed the bottle of wine, intending to pour his next drink; but when he realised that not a single drop had trickled out, he waved the bottle in the air.
“Sorry, Louis. It’s empty, so could you bring a new one?”
“Understood.”
Louis promptly retrieved a fresh bottle, and with brisk efficiency, filled both their glasses.
“This’ll be, the twenty-first.”
As soon as his glass was full, without any intention of savouring the wine, Moran chugged it all in one breath.
But the next moment, he was swamped by an intense wave of vertigo: somehow, it seemed he was much nearer his limit than he’d thought.
In contrast, Albert merely tilted his glass, observing the colours and clarity of the freshly-poured wine. Then he swirled it once, bringing it near his nose to savour its aroma, and took a sip to taste.
“Is this a Madeira?” [3]
Standing beside them, Louis revealed the bottle label with a smile.
“Indeed — your wine tasting is accurate as always, nii-sama. Would you like some salted cheese to complement it?”
“I’d prefer to pair such cheeses with a sweet port. [4] Or perhaps we could have a chicken with that, like Sir John Falstaff.” [5]
“In exchange for one’s soul, indeed.” [6]
Watching the two brothers quote Shakespeare as they chatted, Moran was incredulous.
“……Y’know, this is a drinking match on which I’ve staked my dignity as a man — not some wine-guessing quiz at a party,” he protested.
However, in a long-suffering gesture, Albert merely shrugged.
“Although this is an earnest match, Colonel, it’ll become a dreary affair if you leave no room for entertainment. Moreover, this wine was used to toast the American Declaration of Independence, making it perfect for tonight’s celebration.” [7]
At that bit of trivia from Albert, Moran looked positively fed up.
“Oooh, if you have so much time to share your vast knowledge, then why don’t you hurry up and drink already?”
But far from being put out, an elegant smile rose to Albert’s lips.
“Oh dear; you’re in an awful rush, Colonel. Could it be a sign that you’re nearing your limit?”
“Wha……! N-No way. I can still continue.”
Albert had hit right where it hurt, and Moran uttered a groan that was rather different from before. It seemed his opponent had observed his giddy spell from earlier.
Although the match was far from over, Moran was now consumed by a crushing sense of defeat. Seeing that, Albert made a show of draining his glass at a leisurely pace.
Even after downing a substantial amount of wine, the eldest son of the Moriarty family was unruffled, and Moran shot him a complaint.
“You’re not actually drinking some deep red tea instead of wine, are ya?”
Perhaps it was because the liquor had addled his brain, for Moran put forth a suspicion that he wouldn’t normally have entertained.
To that, both William and Louis burst into laughter.
“That’s a very unique deduction, Moran,” said William, as he struggled to rein in his mirth. “But even I can’t devise a magic trick like that.”
Louis was also trying very hard to suppress his amusement. “I filled both your glasses from the same bottle: how could it be that alcohol came out one time, and tea the next? It’s so unlike you to even consider such a ridiculous idea, Mr Moran. Wouldn’t you agree that it’s time to cut back on the liquor?”
“S-Shut it. I was just saying. And I’m not giving up now.”
Their teasing had completely soured his mood. Glancing to the side, he saw Fred, who was sound asleep.
“Somehow, I think he might’ve just laughed at that too……”
Moran gazed at the man he thought of as a younger brother, dead to the world with a peaceful look on his face. Then he fixed his blanket, which had slipped a little out of place.
When his two brothers had finally managed to regain their composure, Albert spoke up.
“In fact, Colonel: it would better protect your good name if we were to pretend that outlandish trick was true. Or perhaps we could give you a handicap, and allow you to alternate between wine and tea.”
“You don’t say. Then I’ll have two drinks the next round.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea, coming from you. If you’re the one to set up the cause of your own defeat, then it’ll make a convincing excuse to others, I see.”
“Urgh……”
No matter what he said, Albert had a ready riposte. As such, Moran swallowed his frustration, and returned his focus to the match.
“Anyway: Louis, keep it comin’, please.”
Seeing Moran try his utmost to put on a brave front, Louis was even beginning to find that a little cute; muttering his acknowledgement, he proceeded to fill Moran’s glass once more. Then, with great force, the man poured its entire contents down his throat.
“…………”
The alcohol burned like fire as it flowed into his stomach — all of a sudden, Moran came to his senses. Placing his glass on the table, he pondered.
His vexation at the Moriarty brothers’ teasing. His alcohol-induced befuddlement. And above all, Albert’s ability to hold his liquor, which had far outstripped his expectations.
His irritation at those three things had wound up completely flustering him. But once Moran calmed down and took stock of his situation, he realised William was right: he was clearly on the back foot.
Until now, he’d been unconsciously averting his eyes from his predicament by being oddly stubborn. But this pickle wouldn’t resolve itself if he just kept running away. If he continued to drink without a scheme in mind, then in his mind’s eye, he could see the outcome plain as day: he’d be out like a light in no time.
However, if he lost, then he’d have to listen to anything the victor said. Moran had originally set that rule as a way to spur himself on, thinking that there’d be no way he would lose. But now, it had lost virtually all effect in rousing his will to fight — all that remained, was the dread of what Albert would make him do upon his defeat.
He absolutely had to win. But the way things were going, it was all but certain that he’d lose.
In that case, the only option left would be——.
Within him, that conflict crystallised into a single decision.
“William,” he said. “Won’t you join in the match? Or rather: please, join.”
“Me? But why?”
Up to this point, William had been serving as an impartial judge, and he asked that with curiosity. But Moran did not answer; instead, his expression twisted into a bitter one as he continued.
“That’s not all. On top of you joining in…… If you’re agreeable, Albert, let’s ignore the count thus far and start afresh……. This is, truly a personal…… request from me.”
That faltering reply was very much unlike him, and William broke into a meaningful smile.
Moran’s decision — was to request that they increase the number of participants, and restart the game.
Despite his frustrations, Moran was well aware that he wouldn’t be able to beat Albert alone. Hence, he thought he’d bring in more opponents to counter him: even if it was just one more person.
The other part of his plan was to reset the match. If Albert agreed to that, then compared to the two existing players, someone joining in halfway would naturally have the advantage. But from Moran’s point of view, even if he was defeated, it would still be better than having Albert directly exercise his “winner’s privilege” on him — such were his complicated emotions. It was an absurd request, to be sure; but at least he hadn’t proposed having Albert compete against the combined total of both his and the other participant’s tally: perhaps that was a reflection of whatever faint scraps of self-respect Moran still had within him.
Perceiving Moran’s complex tangle of emotions, William placed a hand under his chin and pondered.
It’d also be fun to take on his suggestion. Although he did have his role as the judge, it wasn’t as if the match had any strict rules to begin with — they could easily do without one.
However, if he were to join in, and the match were to be restarted, then both Moran and Albert would be at a disadvantage. When it came to wine, he knew his elder brother’s stomach for it was bottomless; but still, it was clearly unfair to have a new and virtually-sober participant waltz into an honest drinking match. And yet, then again, he didn’t want to dismiss Moran’s “request” out of hand.
In this situation, the best option would be——.
But the instant William made his decision, and tried to voice his answer, Louis quietly raised a hand.
“Hold on a minute. Could it be that you were thinking of taking up his suggestion, nii-san?”
“……Yes, I was just about to say that. Seeing as Albert nii-san doesn’t appear to have any issue with that.”
William looked at his older brother, seated across from Moran. Then, Albert flashed them both a slight smile. Although it would mean that he would gain a new opponent, and the contest would start again from the top, it seemed he didn’t mind one bit.
Registering Albert’s generosity, Louis pointed at himself.
“In that case, may I participate?”
“……You, Louis?” Moran asked.
Louis proceeded to explain himself briefly. “I cannot countenance the possibility — however slight — that after joining the match, my brother will end up drinking too much and impacting his health. Hence, I believe that issue will be negated if I were to join the match in his stead.”
“But in that case, I would end up worrying for your health, Louis,” said William, furrowing his brows slightly.
At his brother’s kindness, Louis unwittingly cracked a smile.
“It makes me very happy to hear that. But it’s rare to hear Mr Moran make such a serious request, and so I can understand how you’d want to help him out. Of course, as Mr Moran said: this is only if you’re agreeable, Albert nii-sama.”
“Alright. Having heard that much, I shan’t object,” replied William. “What about you, nii-san?”
His elegant smile unfaltering as ever, the eldest son of the Moriarty family nodded.
“I don’t mind. If you’re certain, Louis, then I shall respect your decision.” Then, Albert’s expression turned solemn. “However, as you mentioned yourself, you absolutely must not reach the point of destroying your own health. Even though the colonel can’t help it, Louis, my condition is that you cannot drink recklessly. Is that alright?”
“Understood, nii-sama. ——Well then, it’s settled.”
Nodding in assent, Louis quietly took a seat beside Moran. Absorbing how his ridiculous request had been granted, more than gratitude, Moran’s expression was one of astonishment.
“Is this really alright, Louis? I know I was the one who asked, but Albert’s no pushover. If we lose, then you’ll have to suffer the forfeit too……”
However, Louis smiled wryly as he replied.
“I already knew that when I asked to join, didn’t I? To be honest, I don’t want to stand opposed to either you or Albert nii-sama. But now that I’ve made my decision, I have no intention of going down without a fight.”
“……Louis.”
That resolve had shaken Moran, so much so that he began to tremble. Watching him out the corner of his eye, Louis filled both their glasses; then Albert too filled his glass by himself, and raised it toward the two of them.
“Well then, once again, let’s give it our all.”
“I won’t be holding back either, you two.”
“Oh, both of you will be sorry real soon.”
Having gained a dependable ally, Moran’s enthusiasm was now back in full force.
Looking at the three of them, William spoke.
“So with Louis’s entry, the contest shall start again from scratch. But for both Moran and Albert nii-san, the next glass will be your twenty-third: please take care not to injure your health.”
With that word of caution from William, the drinking contest had resumed.
Footnotes:
[1] French vineyards had been devastated by aphids in the mid-19th century, and then fungal diseases after that. (Wikipedia)
[2] The “New World” refers to the Americas, in contrast to the Old World, or Eastern Hemisphere of the Earth. (Wikipedia)
[3] Madeira is a fortified wine made on the Madeira Islands, off the African coast. (Wikipedia)
[4] Port is a fortified wine produced in the Douro Valley in Portugal. (Wikipedia)
[5] Sir John Falstaff is a character featured in several of Shakespeare’s plays. (Wikipedia) He is renowned as a drunkard and glutton, whose favourite food is capons — roosters reared specially for their meat. (BBC article)
[6] A reference to Faust, who traded his soul with the Devil in exchange for worldly pleasures. (Wikipedia)
Aside: As far as I can tell, this line doesn’t actually appear in Shakespeare’s works. But in the legend of Faust, Faust makes his pact with the Devil via the demon Mephistopheles — who is mentioned in Shakespeare’s play The Merry Wives of Windsor (Wikipedia), which stars Sir John Falstaff as its main character.
[7] This is apparently true: Wikipedia
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Kinktober Day 4: Bimbofication + Cockwarming
Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist
Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader
Words: 3,164
Warnings: Bimbofication/intelligence play, hypnosis/trance state, cockwarming
A/N: This fic is very much set in my Future Management universe though I think you could get away with not having read the others. I’ve missed writing these two tbh and then I saw that one of the prompts for day 4 was bimbofication and decided it was a good enough excuse to get back to them. But I also really loved the second prompt for day 4, cockwarming, so decided to mix the two together!
After the long week you’d both been dealing with, you and Roger were glad to have a weekend to yourselves to relax. You’d spent too many nights out at various political functions, lobbying politicians and trying to convince the wealthy elite to donate to your cause. It was frustrating though and despite the numerous late nights and all your best efforts, it didn’t feel like you’d got particularly far. Roger had returned to the studio that week to begin recording Queen’s next album, so he was having a better time than you had been, though by all accounts everyone had been a little on edge as the week drew to a close. He’d come home complaining about how snippy everyone had been and how little progress they’d made that day. It was nice just to curl up on the couch together and zone out in front of the telly, not least because recently you’d barely found time to just be together without interruptions. It wasn’t a problem exactly, and you’d known you’d have patches like that when you first started seeing each other, but the lack of intimacy and physical affection created by your busy schedules did take its toll. So, on Friday night, Roger took great joy in turning off the alarm clock, deciding you could both use a lie in. You were too exhausted to even suggest anything more than talking before you went to sleep, but Roger made sure he was spooning you as you settled down, holding you tight.
Roger was still asleep as you woke, carefully detangling yourself so you could tiptoe to the bathroom, but he offered you a sleepy grin when you came back.
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Maybe a little. Thought we were going to lie in.” He pouted at you as if you’d betrayed him.
“I had to pee!” you laughed, “But I’m all for lying in now.”
Roger chuckled along with you as he beckoned you over, encouraging you to lay your head on his chest as you snuggled back up. His hand found yours, softly tracing the length of your fingers as he sighed happily.
“I missed this,” he half whispered, pulling your hand up so he could kiss your knuckles.
You hummed in agreement. For someone who’d not been in the habit of sharing your bed or encouraging physical contact, you’d certainly gotten used to Roger’s touch. He’d thoroughly converted you as the relationship became more serious, made you see how nice it was to be held, how comforting his hand in yours could be. And you had missed it over the last week when there’d not seemed to be enough time for those soft, quiet moments with him. You’d sat next to uninterested politicians who nodded politely at what you said but never offered anything useful, and thought about how nice it’d be to feel Roger kiss your temple or squeeze your thigh. And then your mind had taken it further, reminding you how warm you got when his weight was over you, how it felt to fill your lungs with his breath and to taste him on your lips. You shifted at the idea and realised you weren’t the only one who wanted more than just to relax. Scooting away from Roger so you could better face him, you began to suggest you could maybe slip down under the covers and help him get properly excited, but before you got more than a few syllables out he was talking about a different idea.
“So, I’ve been thinking about something I thought might be fun to try with my bimbo doll.”
“Oh?” You weren’t entirely sure how you felt about that. On one hand you loved when Roger turned you brainless and cock-crazed, how fun it was and how freeing. But this was the first time you’d really been able to be together in a little while. What did it say about the state of your relationship or his opinion of you, if he’d prefer your bimbo alter ego over the real you, “You want her?”
“Not necessarily right now,” he said, rubbing his knuckles softly against your cheek, “Not if you don’t want to. I’m happy staying like this with you all day.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t want to fuck. I want to fuck.”
Roger laughed, “Oh I definitely want to fuck. I’m just saying I’d be perfectly happy fucking beautiful, brainy, you, instead of the slutty idiot.”
You couldn’t help but smile at that.
“But it’s something I’ve thought about quite a lot. And I think it’d be kind of perfect for such a lazy morning.”
“Okay.” you said, thinking about it more, “I’m not entirely opposed to the whole bimbo thing. It might actually be nice to be a bit brainless, maybe even make it a bit easier to relax. Y’know, sort of keep me focused on enjoying the moment and really feeling everything. So why don’t you just tell me what the idea is and then I’ll know how up for it I am right now.”
“Hmmm. I thought maybe it could be a surprise. But don’t worry, it’s something we’ve done before. I’m just curious how she’d react to being made to do it.”
“Being made to?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in disbelief, “Is this something I like?”
“Oh yeah, definitely. Believe me, we’ve done this a few times before. Usually, it’s less part of sex and more to do with the aftercare or the foreplay.”
You tried to think of what he meant but nothing came to mind that fit the description. It was intriguing though. And you trusted Roger, you knew he wouldn’t take advantage or force you to do something you wouldn't normally do. If he said you enjoyed it then you must enjoy it usually.
Roger waited to see how you’d react.
“Nothing to lose?”
“Nothing to lose.” He said with a smile, “I promise it’ll be fun, love.”
“Okay, let’s do it. I’m insanely curious. But also, sometime later today or tonight, we’re going to have regular, non-bimbo, sex.”
“Anything you want. You ready?”
You nodded and instantly felt Roger draw you back down so you were within easier reach. His fingers trailed lightly over your arms as he began to talk you down. You relaxed into the moment, letting his voice wash over you as his touch created goosebumps over your skin. As you closed your eyes your breathing began to soften and you felt the familiar drowsiness settle into your mind. Roger did his usual improvisation, making sure you knew how dumb you were, how easily confused and hopelessly idiodic you were. He made you understand that you couldn’t understand half of what he said, that you were just a giggly dummy who needed his help. And then, when he was sure you had gone brainless, he told you how horny you were. How all you could think about was his cock in every one of your holes, how desperately you ached for him, how being filled by him was your one goal in life. The only thing you needed or wanted. And how the longer you waited the hornier you got. He told you about being desperate and wet and you felt yourself grow desperate and wet as he said it though you couldn’t remember the word desperate. You tried you but just came up blank. The only world you could think of was cock. It flashed in your mind like a neon sign and just the thought of that word alone made your mouth water and you cunt ache. You shifted, trying to rub your legs together, able to feel the slick forming between them as your stomach tightened with need. And then he told you one word, a simple word. No. He explained that every time he told you no, it was guaranteed to compound the horny desperation you felt.
“What’s co-com- ummm, com-pound?” You asked, confusedly.
“It means the feeling will get stronger. When I say no, you’ll get even hornier. Understand?”
“Yes,” you sighed, content now that he’d explained the hard word.
By the time you blinked your eyes open, all you knew was that you wanted his cock. It was your very first thought and the first thing you said.
Roger looked at you, smiling, and greeted you. A pleasant, “Hi,” that made you feel warm and happy.
You’d smiled back, “Can I please have your cock Sir?”
That made Roger laugh, “No baby. That’s now what I want to do right now.”
Hearing him say that just made you want it more though.
“Please Sir? I could suck it for you. I really really really want to suck your cock.”
“No, I don’t think I want that either.”
You whined softly, “I promise I’m reallllllly good at it and I love sucking cock so much.”
“No. What else could you do instead?”
“Ummm,” it was hard to think, hard to remember anything beyond how horny you were, “Maybe I could ride you?”
“Hmmm, no.”
You groaned and clenched your hands into fists for a second as a bolt of energy ran through you, “Can I wank you?”
“No, baby, not that either.”
“Please Sir?”
“No.”
The bolt of energy ran through you again and you stomped your foot against the mattress to relieve some of the pressure.
“Keep suggesting things,” Roger grinned, “Maybe one of them might interest me.”
You scrunched your face up in concentration, trying to think of something Roger might like, “What about if you fucked me? I’d be so good and I’d stay so still and you could use my pussy and cum in me and-”
“No. No I don’t want that either.”
“But Siiiiiiir,” you whined, “You always tell me to take your cock!”
“Do I?”
“Yes!” you giggled, wondering how he could have forgotten, “You always say how good it feels in me.”
“I s’pose that’s true.”
“So can I have your cock now?”
“No.”
You whined and pouted but Roger didn’t budge.
“I’ll tell you what. Let’s start with taking your clothes off.”
“Okay Sir.” you nodded, giggling again at the idea, hoping it would lead to having one of your holes filled.
“Well go on then. Shirt off first, good girl.”
You rolled yourself off the bed and quickly began tearing off the pyjamas you were wearing, feeling hot as Roger’s gaze dragged over the newly exposed skin.
“Now undress me.”
You couldn't help but laugh as you crawled across the bed to reach him. He’d slept without a shirt so all you had to worry about were his flannel PJ pants and underwear pulling them down his legs one at a time. As his underwear came down your eyes fell to his cock, revealed inch by inch. You felt saliva pool in your mouth and had to resist the urge to lean forward and taste him.
“Can I touch you Sir?” you asked quietly, almost holding your breath as you waited for his answer.
“No.”
“Please?” you asked again, frustrated. Roger didn’t understand how bad you wanted it, how much you needed him. “I’ll do anything Sir, whatever you want.”
“No.”
With an impatient groan you threw yourself onto your stomach, beating your fists and feet against the mattress. It was the only way to relieve the energy and pressure building inside you.
But Roger just laughed, “Awww, is Dummy gonna have a tantrum? That’s not going to change my mind. My answer is still no.”
You whined and kicked your legs again, your pussy throbbing with how empty it was.
“You’re such a desperate slut, aren’t you Dummy.” Roger laughed again, “So maybe....”
You looked up excited and hopeful.
“I might decide to fuck you. Pin you down, fill you hard and deep and cum in you as many times as I can manage. Just to shut your whining up.”
You scrambled back to your knees and nodded happily, reaching to wrap your hand around Roger’s cock.
He slapped you away, “I said might, Dummy. That’s still a no. You’ll have to show me you deserve it. You’ll have to be a good bimbo doll and do everything I say. Can you do that?”
You whined but agreed you could. He didn’t need to make you promise to follow his orders. You’d have done that anyway. You’d have done anything he asked, anything to make him feel happy and pleased.
“Sit up, hands behind your back. Show me your cunt.”
You scrambled to do as he asked, smiling proudly when he hummed at the sight of your spread legs and wrapped his fist around the base of his cock.
“You’re so wet Dummy. How’d that happen?”
You giggled again, “I told you I want you Sir.”
“Guess I didn’t realise how much,”
Your gaze fell to his hand and your breath caught as you watched him slowly stroke his length, stiffening more the longer your eyes were fixed on him. It just made everything worse. You couldn’t seem to drag your eyes away, nearly panting with desire. Wanting to touch yourself almost as much as you wanted to touch him.
“Oh you are desperate. I can see your cunt clenching around thin air and you’ve got drool on your chin. You don’t even care which hole I use.”
You shook your head. Whatever he wanted would make you happy because it’d make him happy.
“I could keep telling you no.”
A whimper slipped from your lips and you felt your pussy pulse with need.
“But maybe I’ll be generous. Lie down here, next to me. Good girl, now turn onto your side. No, other side, facing away from me. That’s right.”
“What are you doing Sir?” you asked over the creaking of the bed frame as Roger shifted around behind you. He didn’t answer though, just pressed himself against your back. You could feel his hard length being directed to your slit and you changed the position of your legs to make it easier for him.
“Good girl,” he said softly, his breath warm against your bare skin.
You moaned at the feeling of him moving between your legs, waiting for the sweet stretch of him filling you. Only it didn’t come. You could feel him between your lips, sliding easily through your soaked folds, every ridge and vein making you shudder. You tried to press back, to direct him into you, but his hand landed on your hip, forcing you to still.
“No.”
The word pulled another whine from you, louder than any before, exacerbated by how close he was to what you really wanted. But that just made Roger chuckle as he kept teasing you. It was pure torment, though worse was still to come.
It took you completely by surprise when Roger stopped his teasing rubbing, readjusting his angle so he could sink into you slowly. The unexpectedness of it stole your breath but you managed to gasp out a small moan of thanks, finally getting what you’d been so desperate for. The position you lay in kept your bodies close as he sheathed himself fully, rocking his hips gently so as to withdraw a little and thrust back into you. You could have cried with joy at knowing you’d pleased your Sir, that you’d been so good and patient, and he’d finally decided to take what you’d offered him. And then he stopped. You tried to take over his rhythm, tried to fuck yourself on his cock the way you knew he liked. Last time you’d done that he’d praised you for being brainless and needy, called you a good bimbo whore and you’d kept going until he’d cum, laughing about how good it felt. But this time he stopped you. He pressed his hips flush against you and wrapped his arm tightly over the top of you.
“No, Dummy. No moving now.”
“But Sir,”
“No. Be good and lie still or I will make you,” He tapped the middle of your forehead with a finger, “Remember I have all the power.”
You didn’t know what he meant by that or why he’d tapped you but you knew how to be good. You knew how to please. And so you relaxed again and lay quiet and still, the way he wanted you.
“It’s still a little early for me to use you. I think I want to sleep a bit longer, so why don’t you stay here and warm my cock for me. It’ll keep me comfortable so I can sleep longer. And then when I’m better rested I’ll think about fucking you.”
You whined again, wanting to thrash your arms and legs again but unable to, wanting to be pinned down by your Sir and used, wanting to feel him move within you or to taste his cum or anything. But if that was what he wanted that was what you’d do, so you nodded and agreed softly.
Roger hummed happily which was all you needed to hear to feel happy too. He let out a tired exhale and seemed to still. You listened as his breath evened out into a shallow rhythm, and struggled to keep relaxed in his embrace. As far as you could tell he was asleep, though his hand seemed to come to life. His fingertips trailed over your skin, coming to rest on your chest. You tried to remain quiet but struggled not to moan as his hand cupped your breast and squeezed it. In response he moved slightly, though still slept on, his cock changing angle within you by a hair's breadth. In your state of heightened arousal it was enough to have you clenching again, trying not to wake Roger in case he got mad.
There was a soft laugh from behind you and Roger mumbled, “C’mon Dummy, you should sleep too.” And then he kept talking, telling you how you’d still be horny when you woke but you’d have control of your brain again, you’d be back to his beautiful, intelligent partner. It sounded like nonsense (what did intelligent even mean?) but something about the way he spoke made your eyes droop and close. There was a small tap on your forehead and you awoke, disorientated by being brought back to the real world so soon.
“How do you feel, love?”
Roger asked and you twisted in his arms to try and see him better. You were pleased when you heard him groan at the change in your position.
“You’re a fucking tease Roger Taylor.” you half laughed, trying to sound less amused than you were.
He laughed too, clearly pleased with his little game, as he released you and withdrew his cock from your heat, “I told you you’d like it.”
You pushed yourself up to be more comfortable, “I don’t know that like is the word I’d use. All I feel is horny. Insanely so.”
“Do you want that fuck now?”
He was still laughing when you tackled him.
Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini
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July 1st, 1985
what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help
“Harrington!”
“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.
“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.
“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”
“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he wished some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift. Fucking off and being a better piece of shit son just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.
“He swears by it.”
“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”
“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”
“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So don’t call me. For the love of God.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”
The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.
There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.
There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was sure his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.
“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.
Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.
“Jonathan?”
“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”
“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.
“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”
“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be cool , alright? Keep it cool.”
“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.
“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um, puzzles to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.
“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.
“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”
“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”
“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we can’t . So, that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.
“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”
“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over one month , then it was just a weird habit.”
Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.
“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.
“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”
“Don’t worry. The muffin is more than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”
“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially his familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”
“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”
“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green dash barreled through it.
"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”
“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”
“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.
“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded cool in an instant. “Bye.”
Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like everyone was too smart for Steve.
“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”
“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I have to show you all my inventions! Camp was the best four weeks of my life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.
Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”
“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”
“Whoa! Whoa! Girlfriend ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just Steve that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”
“She’s super smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I just saw her.”
Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”
“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the Chief now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”
Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.
“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”
“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”
“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m not... looking at the moment.”
Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--
Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.
Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.
Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car could speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was upset that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.
Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.
“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.
“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”
Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”
Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.” Why?
���Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since no one else in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.
His therapist, Dr. Bright-- Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.
Will checked his watch again.
“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”
“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”
Will was sure they weren’t dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected: his sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.
Will was sick while his friends were growing.
“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”
“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”
“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike-- just Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.
Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.
His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”
“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”
“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”
Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”
“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”
“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.
“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.
“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”
He was, he really was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”
“We’re not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”
“You’d tell me?”
“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”
There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly: do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.
“No. I don’t.”
“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”
“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for damn sure . “Absolutely.”
Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.
Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”
Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.
“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re never early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.
“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”
Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.
“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”
“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t have to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.
“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”
“He’s not--”
“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.
Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.
“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”
“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”
Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”
“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”
After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.
Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.
Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.
“You had doctor stuff today, right?”
Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy. Doctor doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”
“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”
“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”
“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”
“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”
Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”
“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”
“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”
“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.
Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”
“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”
Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”
“Why would I?”
“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”
“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”
“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”
They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.
“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”
“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”
“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.
“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”
“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”
“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.
“So he gave up.” Will said.
“That’s not what I meant--”
“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.
“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”
The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t too comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just was . Rather than being cool .
Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in: In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .
Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.
Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.
“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.
“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”
“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.
“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.
Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”
Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.
“Okay… how was. Everything else?”
“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole… thing .”
The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.
“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.
“Steve! I said to keep it cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”
“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything to forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.
“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but instead seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.
“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to obscure the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”
“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”
Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well are you seeing someone, Jonathan? -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will needed to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.
“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”
“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”
“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”
“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”
“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”
“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”
“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.
He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels boring .”
“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.
“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”
“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”
Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.
“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”
“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--
They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.
Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.
“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.
“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”
“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.
“Who was that?”
“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.
“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”
Dinner felt weird.
Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little understanding between best friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.
His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.
He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--
Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--
Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.
Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.
Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too everything to stay up late again.
Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.
Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.
What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--
Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.
"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"
After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the disgusting amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.
They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.
Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.
"What's the problem, Byers?"
"Nothing."
"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress. Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.
Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."
"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."
"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."
Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.
"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."
"Who says he's confused?"
"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."
"You think he's got feelings for--"
"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."
"Hopefully Wheeler does too."
"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."
"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."
"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."
"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."
"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No-- no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”
“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.
“Did you see that?”
“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s nothing . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even see us in here.”
“No. No, I have to wait for her.”
“What if she doesn’t come back?”
“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.
“I meant what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”
“Steve, that’s my mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.
“I meant because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”
Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.
“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.
“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”
“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”
Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”
“L- your dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.
“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”
“How is he-- He can’t do that.”
“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”
“Everyone knows that’s not true.”
“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--
Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.
"Mike?"
"Jonathan, quick!"
"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.
"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."
"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"
"Dad."
#stonathan#jonathan byers x steve harrington#byeler#will byers x mike wheeler#byler#finally reposting in a way that isn't a random post with a link alksdja#prompts#my fics
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Hii, can I request Crosshair being send by the empire to delay a rebel politician reader with the excuse of protecting her, but it happens to be a mission longer than expected and they start bonding and such? Thank you
A /N: l hope this is what you were looking for! I really liked writing this one so it's longer than the other oneshots I've written because I got carried away!
Imperial!Crosshair x Fem!RebelSenate
Plot: The empire have taken over the planet you try to protect and you've been assigned an imperial guard to protect you from the Bounty Hunter's who want you dead or for their own use. Crosshair ends up being your guard and connections blossom throughout the ongoing mission.
Warnings: Detailed description of Violence and a light mention of blood.
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Delay
"Why on Stars would you think I'd accept somebody from the Empire to protect me?" You shouted, anger clearly coating your voice as you spoke to your helpers. One sighed and stood forward, gently walking with you through the large and rather extravagant hallways of the place you were assigned to stay. "Don't you understand I'm a rebel? I speak for peace." Your helper nodded lightly, doing her best to remain professional.
"The planet you speak for is under the Empire now, my lady." She paused as you both continued to walk where you'd be greeted with the being who said they'd have to protect you. Things didn't feel right though, it was all so sudden but you had no choice but to leave your questions unanswered otherwise the Empire would silence you once and for all. "Please, allow them to give you their protection - just until things calm down." Nodding slightly in agreement you couldn't help but sigh as imperial ships came into view, storm troopers littering the streets whilst an admiral came to greet you whilst a darker clothed storm trooper stood behind him.
"Ah, senator y/n - I'm glad to hear the news that you've accepted our protection from bounty hunters set to kill you." Rolling your eyes, you soon narrowed your gaze onto him.
"Well it's not like I had much of a choice, is it?" Your words were coated in venom which only made the admiral laugh lightly sending wary shivers down your spine. You had spent years giving people hope, but now you were working alongside the very thing you swore to destroy.
"I'm sure time with your newly assigned guard will change your view of things and you'll give out a good word for the Empire." The trooper stepped forward and removed his helmet to place it under his arm. His hair was a light silver, an interesting mark lay over his eye which only left you with burning questions. "This trooper is named Crosshair, he's the current leader of our newly formed Elite squad. This building will be on complete lockdown until the bounty hunters are eliminated, our trooper will be sure to defend you with his life."
"Yes sir." Crosshair confirmed, his voice was filled with mystery and confidence which just made you shiver.
"I appreciate your time and service, admiral." You had to practically bite your tongue to muster out those words. There was no other choice but to go along with it until there was some sort of reliable plan to get out of here.
Turning your attention to Crosshair you thought the day through, "Come then, i'll show you around." He nodded and began to trail after you, a serious expression glued to his face. Showing him each individual area on the floor you were assigned to did take some time, but it was worth the protection and the longer this lasted the longer you could take to think up a plan to leave. "This is the final room, the Sleeping quarters. There are separate beds so I do hope you're not too fussed on sharing." He took a light breath in as he looked around, walking to the empty bed which would be his.
"That's not an issue." Sitting on your own bed, you watched as he did the same on his. The beds were opposite one another which gave him the best view to ensure you were safe at any given time.
"Well since we shall be spending a week or so cooped up together I thought that we could get to know one another." You attempted a smile towards him, one in which he didn't hesitate on not returning. Everybody from the Empire were so miserable and they were treated so horribly so you understood. "My name's y/n and I'm a politician reader on behalf of the rebels, I believe in hope and peace and know that it shall be achieved one day." A moment or so went by with no response from him, "How about you?" He shifted slightly against the blankets, moving his firepuncher rifle into his hands in a swift moment.
"I'm Crosshair, a sniper and currently your guard. I work alongside the Empire because they did not abandon me, they took me in." Tilting your head to the side slightly, you gave him a questioning gaze.
"Who abandoned you?" He gave out a hollow chuckle, wiping a spec of dust that had rested against his rifle.
"Nobody of your concern."
"You know that there are better places than the Empire? People who will view you as family and not an irrelevant number they can just replace." His eyes narrowed at you as he spoke.
"I'm sick of playing 'families', I'm happy where I am." You soon decided to drop the conversation, not fully willing to make the man who was supposed to protect your life hate you. Allowing silence to fill the room once again, you soon felt comfortable with it. This would only last a few weeks at most, you could get through it.
A week had passed since Crosshair was assigned as your guard and no attempt on your life had been made yet which you found rather surprising. Time had dragged by pretty surprisingly and you couldn't help but start talking outloud to Crosshair who didn't really respond but you knew he was listening and that's all you needed.
"... And that's why I absolutely dislike the dark." His comm soon beeped, and a different voice was heard filling the room for the first time in the week you shared together.
"A breach has occured, keep y/n safe and with you. We cannot risk her life being taken when she will be valuable to us." The voice fell silent as Crosshair replied quickly, placing his helmet over his head.
"Sir, yes sir." Standing he grabbed his rifle and turned toward you, "Let's go." He walked out of the room you were both in and this time you were the one trailing behind him anxiety and fear filling your chest rapidly.
"Where are we going?" You asked, trying not to let your voice shake with fear as his pace grew quicker toward a different room.
"A more secure room, preferably without windows." A loud shatter from behind you accompanied his words before a hand gripped onto yours pulling you into their chest. Before you could realize what was happening, a blaster was against your head and a hand against your throat which made it difficult to breathe. Crosshair had just as quickly pointed his rifle to the person trying to take your life, tension filling the air alongside your jagged and desperate breaths. "Let the girl go." The person simply laughed and stepped back toward the window which only made Crosshair put pressure against the trigger.
"What makes you think I'll let her go? She belongs with us - her skills could be vital for my kind." He snarled lightly in response as your breaths turned into light whimpers, your hands trying to pry the person's grip off of your neck.
"C-cross-" You whimpered out, voice filling the room. You couldn't see Crosshairs expression behind his helmet, but at your voice calling his name his face flashed with concern, worry and then anger. He didn't hesitate as he pulled the trigger, hitting the person in the head. The grip was freed from around your neck, red marks being left around your neck as you fell. Shattered glass cut into your hand, blood soon trailing down your skin. Crosshair picked you up all whilst activating his comm system.
"The threat has been neutralized." He took a soft breath before carrying you to the room you both shared, sitting you softly on your bed. "Requesting a clean up on the third floor." He ended the communication as he reached for the medkit in one of the draws, crouching before you and tending to your hand.
"Thank you..." You mumbled, watching him tend to your hand so carefully made your heart swell - it was a sweet action but something you assumed he was hired to do.
"I'm just following orders." He responded as he finished clearing your hand up - his fingertips moving across the red marks upon your skin. You watched his face turn into anger as he viewed the marks, applying some bacta to soothe the sting. "I won't let them touch you again." In all honesty, you felt terrified - everything suddenly felt so real and who knew how many more times an attempt would be taken on your life? Exhaling a shaky breath, you nodded at his words and you finally allowed him all of your trust. His eyes seemed gentle as he gazed at you, only kindness filling them as he stood. "I suggest you get some rest now, y/n - I'll keep watch over you." He pulled the blankets back for you before he moved to his own bed sitting on the edge gripping his rifle as his eyes scanned outside the window. After climbing into bed you felt the previous shock begin to calm down, the absence of the adrenaline leaving you feeling empty and cold along with the realization that your life was on the line kicking in.
"Crosshair?" You gently called his name, "Can you stay a little closer?" Your question felt out of character for you, but things were just so terrifying and uncertain that you were desperate for some comfort - especially from the man who had just saved your life. He didn't respond so you assumed he just ignored your question rather than saying no. Your doubts soon left though as you felt a weight beside you on your bed, Crosshair sitting beside your tired self. "Thank you." You whispered, the room falling into a comfortable silence as his hand rested against your leg covered by the blanket. Sleep was quick to overtake you, all of your previous worry seemingly melting away at his touch. With him beside you, the week ahead would be bearable for sure.
Plans had changed at the news of more bounty hunters being assigned to take you out or with them, now Crosshair was staying for longer until the Empire had things under control. A month had passed since the attempt on your life and you had both grown closer than ever. During your rants he would always respond willingly and help out with things whenever he could for you, in fact you both managed to become close with one another.
"So," You hummed as he turned his attention toward you, "when do you think they'll let you go back?" He shrugged lightly as he walked closer to you, helmet under his arm.
"Soon." Those words seemed to shatter your heart into literal pieces. "But I have no intention of leaving." A smile crept onto your lips as you moved closer toward him, eyes lit up like a city at night. Your hands held his own as thoughts raced around your head at an incredible speed,
"Why don't I make you my permanent guard? I'm sure the Empire will be overjoyed that I've taken a liking to their services…" You didn't miss the smirk that placed itself onto his lips, his hands softly squeezing your own. Before he could speak, his comm system lit up again.
"Trooper, are you prepared to move out? We have another mission assigned." Your eyes met him in a gentle gaze praying to the stars that he'd stay alongside you.
"Actually, there's been a delay- a proposition has been made which I'm sure will benefit the Empire." The comm fell silent as You moved closer into his arms before the communication device lit up in confirmation,
"Understood. Take your time." With that, you held his face and met your lips with hisin a gentle get loving kiss. Pulling away you couldn't help but sheepishly grin at him - a rare smile of his falling back onto his face which you adored.
"You'll stay with me?" You asked, voice beyond helpful as he moved closer to you.
"I'll stay - I don't want to leave you like they left me." Nodding softly, you offered him a smaller smile.
"I won't ever leave you Cross like they did, I love you." His lips met yours once again before you both came up with a detailed plan on keeping him with you whilst still getting your hope filled messages out there. You were going to take down the Empire one way or another, but now you had Crosshair with you which made everything better. It was you two against the galaxy for years to come.
"I love you too."
#the bad batch#Tbb#The bad batch x Reader#Crosshair x reader#Clone Force 99#Bad Batch#Starwars#Fanfiction
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Dark Nights
King!Oikawa x assassin!prisoner!reader
Author’s Note : This is the request for a prisoner reader and king Oikawa Au which is literally spiraled into a series. I am not sorry ; Everything will come to a close once the 5th installment is completed ; the request had “torture” and I didn’t realize until halfway through that torture probably wasn’t what you meant, but you’re gonna have to be more specific of what you want because I saw it and went “oh, noncon and maybe some actual hitting.” So, sorry if that’s not what you wanted.
Warnings: death of a minor character [no name OC], blood, dagger, noncon, degradation, kicking, Oikawa gets violent, Iwaizumi turns a blind eye, chains and dungeons, fingering, creampie, no aftercare, choking
Over the river and past the glen stands Fukurōdani, Kingdom in the Mountains that is under the rule of King Bokuto. The ruthless king that stands amongst his army as the bravest and strongest warrior, with his queen Kaori at his side. Deep in the castle, past the kitchen and deep in the dungeons, there sits three people. Amongst those three is a woman clad in all black, a dagger in her hand and a rag in the other, swiping away dark droplets that drip to the concrete floor. Before them, a man without a tongue.
“So, King Oikawa is looking for his bride-to-be, which is why he dared to trespass into the Dark Forest?” A rough voice speaks, his large hand tapping at his chin. His eyes pop open as a thought appears in his head, golden eyes turning to bore into yours. His smile is cunning and terrifying, but you just stare at him. “Maybe someone should see if he got what he was looking for,”
“If you’re suggesting I sneak into his castle, then say it. I don’t like puzzles and riddles, my lord,” your voice is dead, but loud enough to hear over the sharpening of your blade. “It’ll take a long time to get there and get back. Unlike your own kingdom, he has a barrier that is under watch by his loyal dogs.”
“You’re an assassin. Sneaking in is what you do,” he coos, standing from his chair. His presence is behind you, large hands settling onto your shoulders. “I ask of you to sneak into the Kingdom of Aoba Johsai and kill King Oikawa,”
“Excuse me? That’s a bit much,” your voice warbles. Killing a king is harder, much harder, than sneaking under the radar. You would know. “Killing a king isn’t easy, you know,”
“Oh, I know. I know very well, my dear,” his voice is barely audible, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “But, I can offer something if you succeed,”
“Which is?”
“Freedom. You’ll be able to fly again, my little songbird,” his lips press to your cheek, whirling you around to face him. You have to move your head to look up at him, but he’s grinning with lidded eyes. “You’re more than welcome to decline. Personally, I’d prefer it, however, I know you’re the best assassin I have,”
“Best disposable assassin. Why not send Keiji?”
“Akaashi is supposed to protect me. He can’t do that if he’s in another kingdom,”
“Fine, but only if you keep your promise. I’ll hold you to it,” you finally say, huffing as you sheath the dagger. Never one to not rise to the challenge, you turn on your heel to leave the dungeons.
The trip from Fukurōdani to Aoba Johsai would be a day on foot, but you were able to get to the base of the mountains and enter the Kingdom of Nekoma, which allowed tourists from neighboring kingdoms. There, you were able to get your hands on some rations and new clothes, disguising yourself as a beggar woman who’s traveling the continent.
Pathways lead from each kingdom to their neighbor, but you choose to duck into the forest, under the shadows of the leaves and proud standing trees. Go in too deep and you’ll arrive at the center of the Dark Forest, where the ruin of the Karasuno Kingdom lies. It’s an unspoken forbidden place, only those wishing to never leave dare to go there. Crunching dead leaves and twigs under your feet, you manage to find a clearing to stay for the night. Aoba Johsai is farther than you expected, but the reward of freedom encourages you to keep your head up and move forward. It’s not safe to travel at night, the forest is home to all sorts of beasts.
It’s dark, the birds have stopped their chirping as you rest in the tree. Above the ground, away from monsters lurking in shadows, you close your eyes to get some shuteye. A ear-piercing scream rips sleep from your grasp, head whipping to look for the sound. Below you, about 2 yards from your sleeping position, is a family of travelers that seem to be struggling to scare away a bear. Although it is simply a bear, the family doesn’t seem to be prepared for such a disturbance. Against your logic, your morals win as you take out an arrow and put it into your crossbow. It’s small, but your aim is good enough to get the bear’s attention, roaring as it backs up. Lodged in the shoulder, the bear retreats as it quiets down the roars. The traveling family seems to be relieved at the turn of events, but they then become rigid as you drop from the tree.
“We cannot thank you enough, dear comrade,” the man, most likely the father, says. He goes to get on his knees, but he looks to you. “What— how shall we pay you back?”
This could work, you think. “Where does your family travel to?”
“Seijoh, the Kingdom on the Water. Tales have spread that opportunities are booming and the King is kind and just,” he speaks, but then his words stumble. “I do not-! Kuroo-sama is very gracious! I would give my life for his-!”
“You can stop. I don’t hail from Nekoma, if that’s what you think. I’m from neither kingdom, instead just traveling the continent in search of a new life. Perhaps Seijoh would be the way to go? I originally was going to Nekoma, actually,” you spin the tale you’ve made for yourself, which relieves the man. He straightens his back, his height no more than your own. “Would you let me travel with you? I’ll make sure your travel is safe,”
“Of course! We’d be honored to have the person who saved our lives join us,” he bows once more, then turns to the carriage with his family. “Let’s move on!”
“Yes, let’s,” you agree, joining the man on the bench. He cracks the reins and the horse begins moving once more, as you watch for anything else. Travels alone are scary, but with an entire family looking about and a kind stranger by your side, you won’t have to worry. Getting some sleep is your main focus, now, closing your eyes and letting the man know you’re going to rest.
The carriage stops moving, jolting you from your sleep. Before you lies other carriages and caravans, stretched into a line that leads to a large waterfall. The forest is bright and the birds are chirping as a man barks orders at the families and people attempting to enter. You make small conversation with the family, given a cloak to cover yourself from the chill of the morning dew. When it is time to be inspected, you have to give kudos to King Oikawa and his kingdom, noticing how bright and welcoming his entrance is.
“What is your business in Aoba Johsai?” The man almost growls out. A loyal dog of Oikawa’s, from your earlier words, stands before you. His hair is yellow in color, dark lines running from ear to ear. He catches your gaze, eyes narrowing even more, then looks back to the man.
“A traveling family with hopes to start a new life. I’ve heard great and kind things about Oikawa-sama, so I wish to visit the Kingdom on the Water got opportunity,” It’s a believable reason, and then men searching the items the family has give the okay. The guardian of the waterfall steps back, a shallow nod before he barks orders to move. The waterfall is large and can easily drown someone with how hard and fast the water crashes to the earth. A diamond shelf is embedded in the water, two more soldiers standing on opposite ends as they part the water. Barely enough room for the carriage and family, but once inside, the water crashes back behind you.
Aoba Johsai is breathtaking.
The morning sun glimmers across the water, waves gently rising only to be quelled back down. Birds sing along with the fish jumping out of the water, only to then crash back into calming waters. Pathways built of crystal minerals, harvested from the mines of Dateko, and hold countless travelers who have come on news of the opportunities. Soldiers are posted at every archway, checking to make sure nobody has snuck past the soldiers at the waterfall. Security is top notch at this kingdom, you note, as neither Nekoma nor Fukurōdani have such strong protections before entering the main kingdom. The pathway continues into the main kingdom, the town on the water, where fishermen and merchants attempt to sell a fortune for items only available at their stalls. Your awe must have shown, as the man beside you laughs joyfully.
“Never seen such a sight before, have you?” You shake your head. “It’s beautiful. I wish we could’ve been born here instead. Lots of blues, whites, and greens.”
“I noticed the vast greenery. The open area allows for lots of plants to grow, I suppose. Rivers allow for fish to come and reproduce, as well as allow for aquatic plants. A beautiful cycle of life, with a magical kingdom in the center,” you comment.
“Well, no magic. Magic hasn’t been used in over 100 years, you know. Not since Karasuno’s king fell. Um, I think—“
“King Ukai. I remember the story told to me before bed when I was a wee child. The story of the fallen king and his kingdom.”
“Yes! King Ukai, I hardly remember him,” before he continues, he stops. “Ah, we’ll need to get a room at the Rose Inn, and let the horses stay here at the stables. Would you mind settling our horses in? That way you can explore, if you want, before reaching the inn,”
“That sounds lovely! Thank you, kind sir,” you bow to him and grasp the reins of the horses. The inn is right next to the stables, the grunts working to put the luggage into a room for the night. You smile, turning the horses into the stables. A large man stands posted outside the stables, talking with an older man.
“No problems this week? Seems like you’ve had a stroke of luck, good sir,” the soldier says, laughing as the old man laughs with him.
“I hope it stays that way. Oh, ma’am? Need us to keep your horses?” The man notices you and your eye drifts to the soldier, straightening his back as a lazy smirk appears on his face. Not very threatening with the smile, but his large stature makes you wary.
“Yes, my family is staying at the Rose Inn next door. How long can you keep the horses for?”
“We charge by the night. How much gold do you have?” You hand him the bag of coins the man gave you. He counts them, tallying up the total. “They can stay for five nights.”
“Perfect! Thank you! I’ll tell my father, now!” You now graciously, skipping off and past the guard. His eyes trail after you, but you keep your pace to the inn. You’ll have to explore later. That guard sets you on edge.
The inn is graciously spacious. There’s enough room for each traveler and the cost of the rooms is cheaper than most inns you’ve come across in Nekoma and Fukurōdani. There’s sapphire and quartz lights, flames flickering behind them as the light illuminates and projects farther than most candles. It’s innovative technology, and allows for the rooms to be more lit than dirty and dim taverns. Dinner is also better than expected, the menu being more than a sheet of paper. You order at the bar, ordering a plate of their special dinner, then sit at the bar. The men beside you are drunk, but you hope they don’t cause a scene. Something tells you that the security would deal with a bar fight quite brutally.
By the time dusk has fallen, lights flickering on as lower soldiers and owners of shops alight their street lamps, you’ve explored the town. It’s full of trusting people, so you’ve learned quite a bit. King Oikawa has a personal guard and the captain of the guard almost always by his side, whether he makes an announcement or visits down below. One man, Hanamaki Takahiro, seems to willing to joke and hang out with the townspeople, but the captain is much more stern. Iwaizumi Hajime is the name you were told. He’s dangerous, you gathered, and he’s almost always by Oikawa’s side, protecting his king from harm. As night falls, the soldiers rotate so the ones on the streets are now in the castle, as nobody else enters the kingdom after dusk. Disposable soldiers to patrol, skilled protectors inside and around the king where the nightfall can hide trespassers entering the king’s chambers.
Shedding the clothes you were given so graciously, you’re stripping off the clothes of the soldier posted at the inn. The blood flowing from his chest has turned to a large puddle, so you have to trade your shoes for the soldier’s. Larger than your own feet, but you must bear with it. Leaving the alley, you keep your head low and you pretend to patrol. A glance left. A glance right.
You’re stuck.
Soldiers manage to be spread far enough apart, but not enough. They can see where you stand. You breathe heavily and straighten your back. Time to impersonate a soldier through the night and wait for switching times. A brief memory of the dead soldier in the alley flashes, but you push it back. The body is hidden in shadows, even the sunlight in the morn wouldn’t dare shine on the corpse.
Chickens chirp and a rooster crows, soon the other life awake and the sun rises. Shedding light on your position, you look to the gate that leads into the castle. The captain of the guard stands there, opening the gate as soldiers stand tall behind him. You blend in with the other guards, standing straight as you all prepare to trade positions. However, a woman with hair black as night stands before the group. She has an air about her, but she looks familiar. Iwaizumi lets her go, having one of his shoulders go with her. He’s tall and familiar, the soldier from the stables. They pass by, but the woman catches your eye. Her eyes hold a bit of mischief and mystery, but then she’s gone and her soldier follows with her.
“Alright, switch up! You know your positions!” Captain Iwaizumi shouts. Everyone shouts their agreement and dutifully switch places. Eyes face forward, unwilling to look at the captain that seems to have his gaze focused on you. Every soldier goes their separate ways and you don’t seem to bring attention to where you go, entering a room that you and another guard seem to be assigned to.
“Don’t fuck this up, Wakashu,” the soldier beside you grunts. You glance at him, wondering if he’s talking to you, but he thankfully looks to be hyping himself up. Pushing the doors open, you understand why.
It’s the throne room.
King Oikawa sits on his throne as he chats with two people beside him — Hanamaki Takahiro and one of the guardians from the waterfall. Your hair stands on edge, noticing the familiar yellow hair and dark lines, but you attempt to quell your nervousness. The king notices you both, nodding as you both go to positions on either side of the doors. Gatekeepers, essentially.
“It’s sad to see Kiyo-chan leave so soon. I’d hope she would’ve stayed another night to think about her decision,” the king huffs and sighs, brown locks swishing side to side as he shakes his head. “Guess it can’t be helped,”
“She probably thought you were too much of a brat,” Hanamaki snickers. Oikawa huffs again, turning to his guard. “I speak the truth! You expect her to like someone like you? With a shitty personality?”
“Excuse me! My personality is perfect and women should be lining up to be my queen! I thought only Iwa-chan would be mean to me,” he pouts, cheeks puffed out. It’s almost a cute scene. Almost.
Which is promptly ruined.
The doors fling open, you and the other soldier startled by the sudden opening. Iwaizumi and another soldier are huffing as they stop before the throne. Oikawa’s eyes go from friendly to seriousness, his posture changing as he looks down on the captain and an underling. “Speak.”
“A soldier was found dead in the alley,” you and the other soldier immediately go on edge, but for different reasons. “This one found the body,”
Oikawa turns his attention to the soldier, who immediately goes rigid and explains the scene. He also mentions the boots found at the crime scene, which he has in his hand. Coated with dried blood, they’re obviously yours. The guard from the waterfall recognizes them and you panic.
“I’ve seen them before! Someone came into the kingdom with those shoes yesterday morning,” he growls out, then he looks to you, who doesn’t move a muscle. Moving would make a scene, so you of course stay still, but he stares. “You. What’s with the cut on your shirt?”
Shit.
In the dark of night, you didn’t notice the slash in the shirt. The darkened coloring prevented the blood from showing, but the slash showed that something happened. It’s not a cut like dodging a weapon, but more of a stab. Fight or flight response kicks in, so you choose the latter. You got your information, you didn’t kill Oikawa, but it’s better than getting caught. You swing the door open and shut it, bolting down the corridors as you shed the armor. Lighten the load, faster you run. It’s not long until the soldier from before stops you, tall and imposing. You’d remember those stupid eyebrows from anywhere.
“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” He grins, but his grip is strong. You have a feeling he knew you’d be running soon. Footsteps approach behind you, then you’re pulled from the soldier’s grip and forced onto your knees. Chains are placed on your wrists and Iwaizumi grunts.
“Wonder who you’re working for,” he says. Oikawa is behind him, looking at you with the same look he gave to his soldier and Iwaizumi.
“Take her to the dungeons. I’ll see who she works for later.”
The tug of the restraints gets you off your knees, following Iwaizumi and his guard dog, the yellow haired one. Both of them prevent you from running and getting free of the restraints.
In the dungeons, you notice the materials. Similar to the pathway into the town, the dungeon bars are made of a shimmering mineral and you’re suddenly behind the bars. The restraints from before are removed, but your wrists are then placed into more chains along the ground. “Try and get out and see how well that works,” the yellow one grunts. Iwaizumi snaps his fingers and the soldier follows, leaving the dungeon.
“She’ll see soon enough, Kyotani,” the captain says, locking you in. “I’m sure the fight hasn’t completely left her,”
Then they leave. You’re all alone and you’ve failed your mission, but they’re right. You still have some fight left.
Hours pass by as you finally feel the fight leave you. There’s only one guard in the dungeons, but he’s nowhere near you. A thin man with ash brown hair stands posted at the base of the stairs, farthest from your cell. At first, you thought they lacked brains with security in the dungeons, seeing as you’re the only criminal behind bars, but the chains proved otherwise. Each movement you made, every breath you took, every grunt you voiced, the chains knew. They pulled tighter as if they had minds of their own, but they would loosen to their proper place if you were still for a certain amount of time.
Footsteps on marble stairs has you and the guard on alert. Looking towards the stairs, you see the king himself coming towards you. He smirks once he’s outside your cell. Iwaizumi stands next to him, not Hanamaki, and unlocks the door. “Are you comfortable?”
“No.”
“Well, could we help change that?”
“No.”
“Not much of a talker, are you?” Oikawa grins, crooked with a hint of anger. “I’ll get to the point. Who are you, who sent you, and what was your goal? I’m sure killing one of my disposable guards wasn’t the goal?” You don’t speak, so that angers him even more. It’s quick, the stinging in your jaw and the blood in your mouth the only indications his foot collided with your face. “Once more. Who are you?”
“My name is none of your business and neither is my home. My goal was to send that stupid head off your shoulders. Happy?” Your eyes stay narrowed, but he seems delighted at your answer.
“Treason, trespassing, and murder. I should kill you for this, but I wonder where you’re from,” he then has an unhinged desire in his eyes, grin splitting into something sinister. “I’ll keep you alive until you spill,”
“I’d rather eat your shoe again. What king wears white thigh-high boots, anyways? Your guards don’t respect you, they tolerate you. A worthless king with no pride, that’s all you are. I won’t bow to someone or kneel under their pressure when they have a weak resolve and no power. Admit it, you don’t run the kingdom, your soldiers do.”
A swift kick is administered, Oikawa’s breath heaving as he pants. His face is red with anger, frown evident on his face, but you’re grinning. Blood may be dripping from your mouth, but you know you’re right. He inhales sharply, then turns to Iwaizumi. “Understood,” he nods in response, leaving the keys on the wall as he goes to leave. Iwaizumi also takes the guard posted with him. You don’t understand why, but you don’t have much time to think about that.
“I may seem like a worthless king with little to no pride, but that’s all I have. My worthless pride. My guards and soldiers respect me because I am the power here,” he growls out, hand tugging on your hair that sends you collapsing against the ground. The chains pull in your arms, keeping you down as he straddles you. “You may not bow to me, but I’ll find out who you do bow to. I’ll rip every bit of fight out of you, beginning today,”
“Get off, you pervert!” Your screams echo against marble, reaching nobody’s ears. Oikawa goes to strip away the stolen clothes, eyes narrowing as he feels the dried blood against your chest. Ripping off the shirt, he exposes your breasts.
“Maybe I should take you as my royal lover, seeing as your body is supple and warm, perfect for someone to come to after a long day of work,” he grins, wicked and perverse as he looks at you. “What do you say, sweetheart?”
“Fuck off!” You scream, legs kicking and body squirming. He sighs and shrugs.
“No use, apparently. Then, let’s see how the rest of you feels,” he licks his lips as he shuffled down your pants. He’ll have to get you some other clothes, ones with easier access than the ones of his soldiers. The pants are off and he mocking coos at you, fingers sliding around the waistband of your panties to have them snap against your skin. “Pretty. All white and innocent, aren’t you? That’s what the panties say, but I bet you’d look better in black, since you’re probably not innocent.” He doesn’t get a response, so he continues talking. “I’ll give you some blue ones later, they’ll suit your skin tone and match the bars of your holding cell. Aren’t I generous?”
He’s pulling the fabric down, your legs spread as he does. He expects your goods to be dry, absolutely unprepared, but to his surprise, glimmering strings connect your pussy to your removed panties, falling and breaking as he continues to bare yourself to him. A laugh escapes him, fingers pressing into your folds. “You’re getting off on being manhandled? Seems like you’re the pervert, sweetie,” he coos, licking a hot stripe of saliva against your cheek. It’s disgusting and revolting, but you can’t say anything against it. You’ve been in a similar position before, your body seems to not be able to tell the difference between men.
Oikawa’s fingers delve into your cunt, scissoring as he feels around. Rubbing against your walls, he’s pleased when your back arches and a moan escapes your lips, only for a hand to come and cover your mouth. It’s soon removed, the chains pulling your arm back down. Oikawa continues his violation of your most sensitive area, thumb rubbing against your clit as his fingers move and rub inside you. The building knot in your stomach tightens and tightens, muscles tensing as you feel your orgasm coming on. You can feel it, it’s almost there, a moan escaping— then it’s gone. Oikawa’s hand has been removed, tongue flicking over the wet digits as he moans himself.
“Definitely not a virgin by the way you’re acting. A proper whore, you are,” he doesn’t expect an answer, standing on his knees as he goes to unbuckle his belt. Eyes widen as you realize he’s actually going all the way, but he just smirks down at you. Removing his cock from his pants, you stare at it. It’s almost beautiful, you think, staring at the slender cock and how it seems to just compliment his personality and how he holds himself. A hand wraps around the shaft of it, pumping as his darkened gaze lingers on your spread legs. Well, what’s between them. “Hope you’re ready,”
Although you most certainly are not, he doesn’t care. Pushing his tip into your cunt, he finds it hard to push too far. You’re not relaxed in his hold, tensed at his entrance into your velvety walls. His hand comes to your throat, pushing his thumb on your windpipe. “Any words?”
“Fuck off,” you mutter, eyes rolling as he plunges inside you. Pushing past your barriers and spreading you open wide, he’s not the biggest or longest you’ve ever had, but he’s by no means small. It takes effort to adjust to his length, but he doesn’t allow it. Once he’s in, he’s pulling out only to snap his hips back to yours. Your throat is free of his hold, his hand moving to hook your leg over his arm as his other hand is placed beside you. It’s a horrible thing, finding yourself enjoying his thrusts and how each roll of his hips seem to add to your pleasure. His own moans, much louder than yours, seem to prove he’s finding his own pleasure inside you.
Oikawa’s soon picking up his pace, his lips next to your ear as you mewl from pleasure. “Acting like a proper whore. You’d make a fine lover, chained to my side permanently,” he murmurs, lips pressing to your hot skin. He doesn’t get an answer, but he has a feeling your answer is no. Yet, he finds himself getting lost in his own pleasure that he’s soon slamming his hips into you even faster. When he feels his orgasm coming, he leans back and applies pressure to your clit. Your squeal of pleasure has your walls creaming around him and sucking him in. He’s not far behind, rutting his hips against you as he spills his cum inside, your walls milking him of every drop.
When the high passes, he’s removing his limp cock from your hole as his cum oozes out. It drips and plops onto the floor beneath you, but he finds it mesmerizing. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll have to come back.
The shutting and locking of the doors tells you he’s gone, leaving the dungeons and you all alone. With his seed still gushing from your cunt, you have a feeling he’ll be visiting you tomorrow, too.
He wants to break you. You refuse to bend. Each night, you’ll find yourself looking forward to his company.
#haikyuu smut#Mr. Tōru#BB.Kinky#BB.Requests#tw.noncon#tw.dubcon#oikawa x reader#tw.choking#tw.death#tw.blood#tw.degradation#tw.abuse#tw.no aftercare
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Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday
(Some bnha stuff I wrote a few years back)
Toshinori was beginning to suspect that his former teacher had some kind of plot afoot.
Barely a week had passed since the fateful encounter in the mall, and already the retired hero was exchanging almost daily phone calls with Inko. At first, his offer to let the Midoriyas move into his abandoned apartment building seemed purely practical. It was off the grid, more or less, and Gran Torino's hero pension was more than enough to keep electricity and internet supplied for the whole of the building. It looked like it had been condemned, but that just meant he had the run of it.
And at first, Toshinori had encouraged Inko to look into it as a possibility. Surprisingly, she got along well with the occasionally curmudgeonly hero, so he wasn't so worried about them being neighbors.
But then Sorahiko had started not so subtly dropping hints about "now you'll have an excuse to visit more often", and Toshinori began to worry that perhaps the old man hadn't given up on his matchmaking scheme after all.
He'd almost considered bringing it up to Inko (to warn her, of course!) when he came over to help them pack. But surprisingly, two of his students had turned up looking for Izuku and had ended up staying to help. While appreciated, it did mean certain conversations had to wait.
[[MORE]]
"Whew!" Denki leaned back on his haunches and wiped his forehead. "Is that the last box?"
Tenya squinted at him from over a stack of chairs. "Kaminari, we've only packed away the dining room."
Izuku grinned at his classmate's dismay. He took down a framed photo of his first birthday from the wall and wrapped it in newspaper.
"You know, you guys didn't, um, didn't have to come help us pack."
Tenya scoffed, as if personally offended by the notion. "But Midoriya! Many hands make the work light, as my brother says!"
"That's true," Izuku mused. "That is why he runs an agency with so many team members."
"Precisely!" Tenya said with a sharp nod. "Besides, as students representing UA High School, it is our duty to help those in need!"
Denki stretched out his aching back and tossed Izuku a roll of packing tape.
"Besides, moving is a hassle. It would totally suck if you had to spend your whole break before the training camp doing this."
Toshinori listened idly from the living room, where he was in the midst of taking down the television. It was a painstaking process, and one that would've been a little easier with One for All. But considering the whole point of the move was to draw attention away from the Midoriyas, that would have defeated the purpose. He had been a little afraid that his other students' spontaneous volunteering would bring up hard to answer questions, but so far neither had done more than greeted him politely. Iida-shounen had just seemed to accept his presence as completely normal.
The boys had been more surprised by Gran Torino's presence, frankly. And the old man had been gleefully making life difficult for the boys until Inko fussed at him for making her job harder.
As Toshinori eased the television off the table and onto blocks of styrofoam, Inko came bustling through the living room with a spray can of air freshener.
"Sweaty boys!" she lamented by way of explanation. "I thought I was used to it, but now there's three!"
Toshinori laughed. "They're working pretty hard!" he admitted. "I'll open the windows once they finish in the kitchen."
"Oh, thank you, Yagi-san, it's ripe in here," Inko sighed. "I think there's just the computers, clothes, and Izuku's room left, now. But of course, he insists we leave that to him."
Izuku, on cue, popped out of the hallway where they'd stacked the boxes and chairs. "Don't touch my room!"
He cringed.
"I mean, I mean...I can handle it."
Inko nodded sagely. "He's worried we'll mess up his collectibles."
"Mom!" Izuku yelped, looking a little pale.
As Inko and Toshinori fought and maneuvered until they'd managed to get the television back into its box, Toshinori looked up at Izuku and smirked.
"You know I've seen what your room looks like, right? It's not gonna shock me. I put your unconscious butt to bed when you were sick, remember?"
"Nooo!" Izuku groaned and covered his face. "Toshi-san, that's embarrassing!"
There was a faint thud from down the hall, and a small, plaintive, ow. Izuku forgot his embarrassment for the moment and darted away to make sure nothing was broken. Inko and Toshinori both chuckled at teenaged antics. Toshinori slid the boxed television to the wall, and Inko sprayed the air with the freshener once or twice. Then they stood back to take stock of their handiwork.
"Toshi-san," Inko said thoughtfully. "That's new for him, isn't it?"
Frankly, she was surprised that Izuku was comfortable using a nickname for All Might like that. It really said a lot about how close they'd grown, and how much Toshinori had been able to coax her son out of his shell.
Toshinori glanced over at her with a shy smile. "Yeah. I like it. Feels more natural for...whatever we all are."
'A family,' came to Inko's mind, but it didn't seem appropriate to say that out loud just yet. Instead she asked, "Well, would you prefer if I called you that as well? Or should I stick to Yagi-san?"
The tall man's eyes lit up noticeably. "I'd be delighted if you felt comfortable calling me Toshi, or Toshinori," he said warmly.
"And nevermind about the suffixes," Torino interjected unexpectedly as he passed by the open doorway, "You'll make him blush otherwise."
He chuckled at their almost guilty jump and dusted his hands off.
"You want us to start moving all this to the truck?"
"Sir, we've been over this, you have to warn people before sneaking up on them like that!" Toshinori complained.
Torino's smirk grew wider. "I was standing right there in the doorway. You just let yourself get distracted by a pretty face!" he scoffed.
He shifted his weight -- and his attitude -- and turned to Inko. "The Quack Pack has already got the truck about half loaded with the heavier furniture. You want the boxes in there or nah?"
#dadmight#free day thursday#fic prompts#writing prompts#bnha#bnha au#bnha fic#long post#midoriya izuku#toshinori yagi#midoriya inko#kaminari denki#iida tenya#sorahiko torino#precursor to toshinko#it's sort of slow burn
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