#you’ve only just arrived and your expectations are already to high
So uh- I’ve had a sudden influx of followers after posting a couple of lotr memes and I really don’t know how to explain to them that I get random bouts of inspiration and then am inactive for like 3 months-
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Just Let It All Go
Prompt: You’ll never have to pretend around me, okay?
A/N: Just finished rewatching season two with my brother, and my heart already broke for Oikawa until I realized at the very end of the rematch he pushes off on his bad knee and thus this fic was born.
Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x F!Reader
Grip gentle, you tug on the bandage, making sure to apply gentle pressure across the wrap as you finish it off. You keep an eye on Oikawa, to make sure it doesn’t hurt too much, but honestly his expression has been pretty neutral for the entirety of it that you’re not sure if you’re even helping any.
“Does that feel alright?” You question, flickering your gaze up to his own.
He shrugs, “it honestly didn’t hurt that much,” he mumbles. And his voice is flat, no air of the amusement that he usually has, but it is the first thing he’s really said to you since he arrived at your doorstep that evening, having left his team.
So, in that sense, it fills you with at least a semblance of relief.
Setting aside the materials you’d gathered, you shake your head; “you pushed yourself too much,” you say simply, avoiding his gaze which you can feel on your back as you rush around your room, gathering the mess you’d made along the way. “I’m just trying to help in any way I can.”
And that catches his attention, blinking him out of his stupor as he watches you push everything away under your bathroom sink. Guilt sinks deep within him when he realizes how dismissive he’s been of you, when truly you were only trying to help in anyway you possibly could. You didn’t understand exactly how the team felt, there was no way you could, but you were hurt for them, upset for them, and somewhere along the way, Oikawa realized he’d forgotten that. Too blinded by his own hurt, he’d ignored the one that had helped him through it all.
And always had.
When you turn back to him, you find yourself somewhat shocked at his gaze so intensely focused on you, coming to a halt with a blink. He’d been practically spaced out since you’d led him quietly up into your room, set him down on your bed and got to work, clearly lost in his own head.
You figured he was replaying the match over again in his head. He usually did after matches, whether they won or lost -- but you figured this one hurt a little bit more because it was a lost he hadn’t been expecting. Because this was the last one he had with his team. Because never once in his three years of high school has ever been able to beat Ushijima, and now, he hadn’t even lost to Shiratorizawa,
It’s the second thing he’s said to you in the past hour, and it shocks you so deeply that you find yourself at lost, for a good few minutes, on how to even respond. You blink, and then blink again, and he’s simply just staring at you, a deep frown etched on his lips and you can see his eyes are watering but he refuses to let the tears fall.
Even though you know there’s probably nothing he wants more then to just let go.
“I’m not your team,” you whisper, catching yourself out of your stupor as you move towards him. You stop until you’re directly before him, falling to your knees in between his legs as you gaze up at him, barely leaving any room between the two of you as he looks back down at you. “You don’t have to be strong around me, and you certainly have nothing to be sorry about.”
And then you see it, the slight tremble of his shoulders.
“You’ve been trying to help,” he mumbles, “and I’ve been ignoring you.”
Reaching your hands forward, you gently cup his cheeks, shaking your head up at him with a soft smile. “You’re talking to me now,” you whisper, “and that’s all that matters to me. Just... just let me help you, please.”
He hesitates, stilling.
“You don’t have to pretend around me.”
And that’s all it seems to take, because then the tremble returns with even more fervor and he’s sinking into himself and by default you. A sob breaks past his lips, and his forehead falls against your shoulders as you shift, moving to hold him tight against yourself, pressing a hand to the back of his neck, hoping the slight pressure, the knowledge that you’re there is enough for him.
“I was so close...”
You shake your head; “you did amazing, Tooru.” And you say that because you want him to know that that’s all that matters. At least, to you.
You’d never be disappointed in him.
His hands grip the back of your shirt, fisting the material of it tightly as he clutches onto you like you’re his last life line. Like you’re the only keeping him stable in that moment. He holds onto you like you’re sure he’s never done before, depending on you more then he ever has in the past. You know, despite all their words and teasing's, that he was the strong front of his team, and he’d been holding himself back since the match, trying to appear strong for them.
While they’d all fallen apart, he’d held himself together for them.
Now, it was his turn to let go.
Because you’d never want him to put up a front for you. You’d never want him to think he couldn’t depend on you, couldn’t rely on you to be there for him when he was at his worst.
“I’ve got you,” you soothe, voice soft, a whisper and so quiet you’re not even sure he hears. But, he pulls you closer, molding you against himself, and you realize even if he didn’t, he already knows.
And that’s all that matters.
This is just a short fluff piece because as much as I wanted Karasuno to win, my heart can’t help but break for Oikawa and the rest of Seijoh.
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I learnt to enjoy the journey as much as the end point. We often think that we will feel happier, more successful or accomplished when we reach a certain destination; whether that is a physical place or otherwise, like a new job, relationship. However, there is just as much, if not more, enjoyment to be found in the journey that leads up to that point.
James Smith writes in his book, ‘Not A Life Coach,’ that “becoming is better than being.” It comes from Carol Dweck’s work on mindset. If we go through life with the attitude of loving the process of becoming a better version of ourselves, whether it is in our personal or professional lives, it doesn’t matter what destination we arrive at, expected or unexpected, it’s the growth and lessons along the way that means most to us.
Needless to say, there will always be obstacles and challenges along the way, but a big part of the process is learning to have the right mindset when approaching them. As James Smith also says, “Don’t worry about the speed bumps in the road until you see one that’s worth slowing down for.” Don’t let something that appears to be hard, put you off from where you are going, because invariably there will be strength developed in getting through those times, if you keep going. I often think to myself, “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” as too much time can be wasted thinking about the ‘what ifs’ that could slow me down. It’s also good to remember to choose your battles wisely, determine what you need to work on an slow down for, and recognize the times when it is better to keep on ploughing through.
Sometimes it feels like we don’t have what it takes on our journey, but one of my favourite stories is that of Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. All she wants to do is get back home to Kansas and when she finally arrives at the point she can return, she’s learnt two things. Firstly, that it is harder than she expected to leave the friends she made the journey with. That throughout her journey and the obstacles she faced, by focussing only on the goal of getting to her destination of home, she’d taken for granted in the moment, how much she had grown to love the people who helped her along the way and the fun they’d had. Secondly, that throughout the ups and downs of getting to the Emerald City to find the Wizard, the one and only person she thought would be responsible for getting her back home, she already possessed inside her, the very thing she needed to get there.
I’ve also learnt that the best way to enjoy the journey is making sure we are on the path WE choose. It’s just important that we choose to climb the right ladder. We can often get pushed off course by listening to what others think and tell us what we should or shouldn’t be doing. But as James Smith says, “It doesn’t matter how high we climb, if when you get to the top, you realised you’ve climbed the wrong one.” I remember seeing a psychic before I turned 30 and was told that I based too much of my decision making around what I thought others expected of me. It was a real eye-opener to look back on the path that had led me to that point and what I had mapped out ahead of me. I had achieved some great things up until that point, promotions at work, the purchase of an apartment, but a lot of it was based on pleasing others and living up to societal norms, of where I should be at certain junctures of life. It was at that moment, I began to realise the joy and sense of satisfaction and fulfilment that comes from choosing the ladder I wanted to climb.
A theme song that I’ve used since then is Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Go Your Own Way’. “You can go your own way; You can call it another lonely day; You can go your own way; Go your own way.”
A lot of the time we underestimate ourselves choosing a path and then when we encounter speed bumps on the road. Over time I’ve developed the strength to back myself no matter where I’m going. I’ve learnt that when I take the time to appreciate the journey for what it is, the opportunities to grow and learn, that I can get through anything. Just as importantly, that if I enjoy the ride, it doesn’t matter if I arrive where I think I’m meant to or not. Life is one big adventure, and I’ve come to realise there is no set destination we arrive at that is going to bring us that ultimate joy, so it is important to choose the right climb to embark on and love the journey of getting there first and foremost. *Cue Miley Cyrus — It’s The Climb*
paring : osamu miya x f!reader
synopsis : in honor of your friends birthday your friends and you all decided to get high. buying the drugs from no other than osamu miya. the most attractive dealer you’ve ever laid eyes on.
03 | girl boss moves
masterlist | previous | next
alisa and you both ended up arriving at the gas station with only three minutes to spare, seeing your beautiful but suborn friend was set on getting an ice coffee before arriving. ‘who knows it could be the last thing I or we ever drink.’ she teased, much to your dismay. the joke was stupid from the start but now on the day and just an hour before the actual ‘pick up’ you couldn’t even force a smile better yet a laugh.
you sat passenger seat in your friends white bmw. kenma had insisted you two take kuroo’s car which wasn’t as flashy but you both shot the idea down since alisa didn’t go anywhere without her baby, and you wanted a ride in her new car.
“where should I park?” her voice was just loud enough to hear over the music playing bringing you back to why you two were actually at the gas station.
“uh, oh I think that’s them over there.” you pointed over to the far end corner of the convenient store parking lot. you could see the outline of a tall person leaning against a black car. it wasn’t run down or new either; but well kept and up to date enough to not draw attention.
your friend parked a few spots away from the car. her side of the door facing the other vehicle, before turning down the radio. “should we get down or?”
“i don’t know i’ve never bought drugs before.” you half joked hoping it’d ease both of your nerves. at times like this you weren’t sure if you cursed yaku for doubting you both and insisting he should go— just in case— or yourself for declining his offer.
before she could reply with a snarky come back there was a knock on her window which caused you both to jump in your seats. you both looked over to see the silhouette of a hooded figure, the bright lights of the public area behind them didn’t help to shine light on their face.
alisa lowered her window just enough to hear but not enough for whoever the hooded figure was to reach in. to your surprise they didn’t react to this offensive action but instead asked, “are you y/n?”
“uh, yeah, yeah that’s me.” you answered, as you leaned your upper body on the cars middle console. bringing yourself into view.
at your reply the once scary hooded figure pulled their hood down to reveal a, very attractive smoky haired guy. you swore you could feel your breath catch in your throat.
“whatchu guys need again?” his voice was throaty and sent butterflies to your stomach and lower region. a contract to his deep and intimidating aura he scrunched his face up cutely and lowered his body bring his face into view of the window wanting to get a better view at you two inside and scratched the back of his head.
“three grams.” alisa spoke up after taking notice of your body language. she hadn’t seen you act like that since high school.
“oh right! did you guys bring the money?”
“you never told us how much.”
there was a long pause, not enough to be awkward, but enough for both parties to take notice of.
“there a problem samu?” a voice spoke from behind the boy. into view came an even taller guy, except he didn’t wear a hood to cover his face, his sharp eyes already set on you two in the car.
alisa then lowered the window, knowing you guys would probably talk for a bit more. for a quick second it was easy to tell he was taken aback by the two of you— probably wasn’t expecting girls.
“they want to know the price.”
“ohh, so these are konoha’s friends.” it wasn’t really a question especially with how teasing and singsong his tone was. “wasn’t expecting them to be so pretty.”
you had to fight every muscle from within to not scrunch your face or visibly cringe. alisa faked a laugh, once again taking the lead. “we’re flattered really, but we both really just want our weed, then head home to sleep.”
“what you girls aren’t getting high tonight?” the same guy asked, ignoring her previous statements. you both shook your heads no.
“that a shame really, we could’ve just smoked you both out for free.” his tone hadn’t changed from its previous one, expect now he wore a smile as he wrapped an arm around the gray haired boy pulling him closer to him.
“nah it’s okay, we got money. speaking of, how much?” you now snapped back, bringing a smirk to both boys faces.
the jet black haired boy let his arm drop off his friend after whispering something in his ear and running off back to their car.
“sorry about him, it’s gonna be twenty dollars.”(2,196.00 yen).
alisa waited for his friend to come back and give you both a clear small baggy before handing the pair the money.
“it’s sativa. from my own shit, so let me,” he pointed back to his friend “or samu here, know if you like it.”
you both nodded not knowing if he was serious or not. “you’re y/n then, right?” the gray haired, samu, asked pointing to you.
you nodded your head keeping your eyes on him. “yeah so just text me, let me know what you think,” his friend bit his lip after letting a small laugh out, but the boy continued on, “like if you wanna buy again.” it was the longest you heard him talk all night.
his soft tone and his eyes glued to you didn’t help how nervous he was making you feel. you nodded again, unsure if you could speak without stuttering. you took your chances, not knowing if you’d see the boy again, “i will, thank you.”
“alright, goodnight ladies, drive safe.” the black haired boy spoke causing your friend and his to roll their eyes.
alisa pulled out the parking lot after stuffing the small baggy into the cars sun visor.
“hey, send the groupchat a text, let them know we’re safe and got it already.” you nodded before pulling out your phone to type in a few texts.
fun facts! 🍃
your friends and you live half an hour away from the city over, but decided to start heading an hour earlier because of traffic.
the song playing in alisa’s car. because you both have taste!
suna was laughing at osamu because he never makes an effort to talk to or even get feedback from his customers.
@kaleidoscopekai @shiraboobie @90s-belladonna @miwtze @p0nponpurin @its-the-aerieljeane @hachi-nana @tetsuswhore @saikishairclip
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Logitech's pricey Harmony universal remotes have been discontinued
It's weird to think that future generations will never understand the surreal experience of walking into an electronics store and trying to understand what a $350 remote control could possibly do to justify the cost.
Regardless, that's our new reality as Logitech moves to shutter the Harmony brand. The company confirmed in a support article that the remotes will no longer be manufactured, though service and software updates will continue for the internet-connected devices.
"We expect no impact to our customers by this announcement. We plan to support our Harmony community and new Harmony customers, which includes access to our software and apps to set up and manage your remotes," Logitech's note reads.
"We also plan to continue to update the platform and add devices to our Harmony database. Customer and warranty support will continue to be offered."
Harmony brand remote controls first launched in 2001 and they were successful enough to draw Logitech's interest, spurring an eventual acquisition in 2004. They've been popular items since then, justifying their high cost (compared to other universal remotes) with smart features and internet connectivity that play nice with elaborate home theater setups.
Logitech is very clear in the support article that these features aren't going to change, at least for now. That includes third-party integrations with smart devices from Alexa or Google. The change just impacts manufacturing, meaning Harmony products will hereafter only be available on a "while supplies last" basis.
That's the reason Logitech isn't going to be offering refunds even for newly purchased Harmony remotes. "Our goal is to keep service running as long as customers are using it," the article reads.
What this move does do is set Logitech up for a post-Harmony future. Some of the brand's more recent products evolved the universal remote idea to include hub-based interfaces that allowed the system to link up with smart home and Internet of Things products. But there's some stiff competition in that space.
Could Logitech have further built Harmony out to compete? Sure, probably. But the company is much more invested in computer peripherals and telecommunications products. Home theaters are getting more elaborate, but they're also bringing more smart features — and feature-packed remote controls — than ever.
Logitech's support article doesn't comment on the reason for the decision to discontinue Harmony products, but it's likely that struggles were ahead (if they haven't arrived already) for keeping the brand relevant and fairly priced next to the competition. As it stands for now, there's still plenty of stock to be found on Harmony remotes. But if it's something you've been thinking about picking up, now's a good time to make a final decision.
from Social Media News and Web Tips – Mashable – The Social Media Guide https://ift.tt/3d6oxQH
MY FAVS AND SONGS I THINK FIT THEIR VIBE (FROM MY BEDROOM PLAYLIST)
a/n: was making a playlist for myself & my late night thoughts so i could write smut to, this is kat and these are some of my favs! originally this was titled ‘songs they’d play during sex’ but i got carried away with sasukes. also i finished haikyuu season 4 and thought of this
featuring: choso, geto, nanami, tsukishima, kageyama, shikamaru, & sasuke
warnings: 18+, small smut drabbles, use of cunt, slight angst, drug use, cursing, i do not own rights to any of these song titles listed below.
CHOSO: I KNOW by BIG SEAN ft JHENE AIKO
the need to please your lover always lingered in your body. you know he’s been stressed and worn out lately; always wanting to be a good big brother and help out yuuji in his daily activities. you didn’t even wait for him to say anything the moment he walked through the door of your shared apartment; knees dropping to the ground immediately. your hands undid his pants, hand finding his half hardened cock and slipping it into your mouth. choso wasn’t expecting this when he arrived, but he wasn’t complaining at all. what a good stress reliever.
GETOU SUGURU: IN FOR IT by TORY LANEZ
the soft chorus played in the background, your moans mixed in as getou embraced the words and tempo. he wanted to challenge himself by pounding into you and matching the beat, but your beautiful moans were enough for him to set the pace without the song playing. he truly had rhythm going, the lyrics only encouraging getou more. “you like that pretty girl?” a cry of ‘yes’ causing him to hit your cervix deeper and harder. some day, you’d like to thank tory lanez for creating a masterpiece.
NANAMI KENTO: PERSIAN RUGS by PND
nanami kento, a man of luxury, had you face planted in his california king. his hips met yours slowly, the calls of his name falling from your lips made him feel like he was in heaven. your pricey versace dress was torn apart on the floor, nanami claiming he could buy you an even better version of the dress when you pouted about it. he wanted to feel every part of you; his favorite part being when you come, cunt creaming his cock unapologetically.
TSUKISHIMA KEI: WUS GOOD/CURIOUS by PND
tsukki was your best friend; surprisingly, his hard demeanor breaks when he’s with you. he enjoys spending time together, and sex just happens to be one of his favorite activities to do with you. “nobody will know, yn.” he assures you everytime, causing you to relax under his touch. he loves feeling your body on his, preferably on top of him, riding his cock, chasing your high. he loves watching from below as your face turns into one full of pleasure. when you’re ready for a relationship, tsukki responds with: “you’ve been mine the second we started hooking up, ‘not leaving me anytime soon.”
KAGEYAMA TOBIO: BEST PART by DANIEL CAESAR ft H.E.R
sex with kageyama was absolute heaven. you always felt like you were floating; gentle fingers igniting fire within you every single time. you adored the way he’d ask you if you were okay with anything, always backing out when you were uncomfortable with something. you didn’t mind his rough days where he’d fuck you dumb though; the both of you needing to release pent up anger or stress. you’d much rather him take his time, leading you two to go rounds.
SHIKAMARU NARA: EUPHORIA by DON TOLIVER ft TRAVIS SCOTT, KAASH PAIGE
you knew what shikamaru wanted the minute he asked you to come smoke with him at 3:33 AM. you couldn’t say no, even if a part of you wanted to, but you specifically stayed up for his text. you knew the night would end up with the both of you high of marijuana, drowned in euphoria, fucking in the backseat of his old honda civic. part of you grew attached to him, something about him drew you in to wanting more. so you replied with a quick yes, not even a second later shika texts back saying he’s already outside. that night, you ended up confessing and to your surprise, shika reciprocated the feelings; you’re not sure if it was the shit ton of drugs you both took, but that was the best orgasms of your life.
SASUKE UCHIHA: WRONG by ZAYN ft KEHLANI
sasuke has always been unreadable. one thing you knew for sure though, would be the fact that his view on love was fucked up in all kinds of ways. he knew you wanted love, he knew you were trying to search for his everytime you trembled underneath his body. he acted as if he didn’t hear the small ‘i love yous’ fall from your lips everytime you came undone on his cock. for example, tonight had to be one of those nights; yet it was different in some sorts. before sasuke left your home for the night, he turned to you and said one thing: “‘m not any good for you, you’ll never find love with me. you deserve better, yn. ‘m just a problem with problems.”
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an absolutely massive Haikyuu!! fic rec pt. 2
IwaOi this time around. My favorite ship. The world’s favorite ship...there’s so many
Undecipherable, by ioo (4k. G. canonverse)
I’m pretty sure the author meant ‘indecipherable’, nevertheless! I am appalled that this work doesnt have more hits. Y'all are sleeping on it and that's not okay.
The sound of the door slamming against the wall has Hajime startling back to the present. He looks at the source of the disturbance and finds himself face to face with Oikawa, red in the face with breathlessness and a leather-bound notebook tightly clutched in both of this hands. When he spots Hajime, he makes a beeline for the bench and slaps it down right next to him.
"Koi no yokan," he says. "The sense one can have upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall in love."
primavera, by tothemoon (8k. T. canonverse)
All of tothemoon’s works read so beautifully
They say it takes twenty-six years, for certain breeds to fully bloom.
Learning to Walk (So That We Can Run), by ricekrispyjoints (27k. M. canon-divergence)
I've read this work so many times. Like, so many times and I’ve never tired from it. Gorgeous. The shift from friendship to romance felt so natural, love it.
"I'm not healing like I should be."
In his second year of university, physical therapy just isn't cutting it. Oikawa's knee is getting worse, and he can't hide it anymore.
Or: the light angst, project-your-own-life-experiences-on-Oikawa knee surgery fic you didn't know you wanted.
Priorities, by weirdmilk (2k. T. canonverse)
‘I just -’ Oikawa begins, ‘it might be difficult to get married, sometimes, I think.’ He chews on his lip.
Iwaizumi makes a questioning noise.
‘Ah,’ Oikawa says, and then, in a rush, ‘if I didn't want a wife at all - what then? If I said that to you. If I told you I can’t see it. Like - the wedding dress. The bride. I just can’t see it.’
Iwaizumi swallows again, his heart beating much faster than the conversation warrants. He wonders whether Oikawa can hear it. ‘You’re eighteen. You aren’t supposed to see it yet.’ He snorts. ‘I mean - if we’re sharing shit, I’ve never even kissed a girl.’ He doesn’t mind admitting it. It’s not something that bothers him - he’s never prioritised girls very highly, and despite Oikawa’s largely undeserved status as Miyagi’s most eligible teenage bachelor, he doesn’t think Oikawa has ever wanted a serious relationship with any of his fan club, either.
Oikawa and Iwaizumi can't sleep before their first practice match with Karasuno.
Before Midnight, by fathomfive (2k. G. canonverse)
Reads like a fairytale.
The sky turns, the seasons turn over, and Iwaizumi and Oikawa track the movements of the stars. Nothing is ever quite constant, but it's close enough.
The grass is stiff with frost. They walk in silence past the raked-over vegetable garden and up the back hill, footsteps crackling, and stand side-by-side at the top of an incline that used to seem much bigger. Iwaizumi glances over but Oikawa’s already gone, eyes searching the sky with no hint of hurry, just a kind of reverent patience.
make a bet, keep a promise, by raewrites (13k. M. canonverse)
Bet still on.
Sometimes, in still moments, Iwaizumi wonders why out of all the people on earth he ended up with Oikawa Tooru. Why it’s his face that lingers on his fading conscious in the last moments before he falls asleep, in the first blurry seconds upon waking up again. Why when he looks to his side, he expects Oikawa to be there in the same way he expects to see five fingers on both hands, a natural extension of himself, ever present.
Why he can’t imagine a future without Oikawa in it.
It begins with a bet made between the two boys in the mid-summer of their eighth year. It starts with volleyball, but like with most things involving Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime, things are never quite that simple.
our hearts still beat the same, by knightswatch
two birds, by thelittlebirdthattoldyou (5k. T. canonverse)
Of heartbreaking letters and paper crane wishes.
Five months into the term, two months after he’s stopped replying to Oikawa’s texts, the first package arrives. A small square box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, and Hajime almost trips over it on the way to his dorm.
There’s a letter attached.
Oikawa doesn’t know how many times he’ll have to put his feelings down on paper before Iwaizumi believes them.
Through My Eyes, by anchoringsouls (2k. G. canonverse)
Okay! Okay, we were doing great with the soft, happy love up until the last part! That's great, just great!
“I think if you ever saw yourself through my eyes, you would fall in love with yourself the same way the way I did with you.”
in time it could be ours, by deusreks (3k. T. canonverse)
Anyone wanna go back in time and make a time capsule with me only to dig it up years later and we’re actually in love?
Set post Seijou's match with Karasuno. There's a moderate amount of rolling in the dirt. No pajamas were hurt in the writing of this fic.
There, in their joint backyard, was Oikawa Tooru, clad in his silly luminescent space pajamas, digging a hole near a cherry tree.
“What the hell, Oikawa.”
Tooru stubbornly continued digging. He looked pitiful in that moment; everything that was grand about him in daylight was meaningless in the darkness. He was only a boy with a shovel whose broken heart mirrored Hajime’s own.
we can do better than that, by spaceburgers (16k. M. canonverse)
Of course, of course, the IwaOi road trip fic. AnD thErE wAs ONly OnE bED!
Oikawa and Iwaizumi go on a road trip during the summer after their high school graduation. It doesn't go as expected, but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.
They Say it Rains Diamonds on Jupiter, by exsao (35k. T. canonverse)
I don't know, just gorgeous. Hajime’s so in love.
"You're in love with him."
Hajime considers denying it. He considers deliberately choking on his drink to express surprise, to create a distraction by spitting onto the man in front of him's pristine white shirt and causing a commotion. Instead, he swallows his mouthful of soda and heaves a small sigh once his mouth is free.
"Yeah," he says instead.
He's never been good at lying, anyway.
Midnight boys/sunset town, by carafin (10k words. T. Housemates AU):
The author says they played off of the fact that Oikawa oftentimes forgoes his sleep in order to work, and wrote it so that he doesn't sleep at all. This was so cute, kinda sad, mostly not. Love how Iwaizumi just goes along with whatever crazy stilch Oikawa is on.
In which Iwaizumi Hajime grows a few chili plants, participates in an eating contest, breaks into a park, and falls in love with a man who doesn't ever sleep - not exactly in that order.
5 Reasons Why Iwaizumi Hajime's Flatmate Is A Complete Weirdo (An Incomplete List)
1. He's obsessed with that stupid bucket list of his.
2. He's the proud owner of seven truly ugly, criminally hideous movie posters with aliens on them, which he insists on pasting all over the damn living room.
3. He's always stealing Hajime's sweatshirts.
4. Sometimes, he wakes Hajime up for breakfast. At 5AM. On Saturday mornings.
5. He literally never, ever sleeps.
The Best I Ever Had, by FindingSchmomo (62k words. T. Canon-divergent):
You’ve read it, your mum’s read it, your dog has probably read it (you really need to take facial recognition for him off your phone, he’s got some weird nighttime habits). So basically this fic caused me physical pain and then pumped me full of morphine and now I’m good! Beautiful read, hated Oikawa for a while, Iwaizumi is the only boy I would ever feel safe alone with.
A story of separation and time lost. Oikawa and Iwaizumi lose contact, and life goes on. Now, a decade later and back in Japan, Oikawa wonders if he can pick the pieces back together, despite knowing Iwaizumi has moved on. A story of their past, present and future, pieced together by shaky hands.
darlin', your head's not on right, by aruariandance (13k words. T. canonverse)
Again, I’m pretty sure anybody who's anybody has read this fic and for good reason! Super sweet realizing you're in love fic. Makes me reconsider wanting to get married.
'“Our wedding,” Oikawa says by way of explanation, tapping his finger against his magazine more emphatically. “What colors should we use? Color scheme is important, apparently.”
Iwaizumi feels his lifespan shortening.
“I was thinking our Aoba johsai colors to go for more, you know, softer tones? Besides, I’ve always looked great in that sea foam green color. Oh, and I guess you look decent in it, too.” He grins, saccharine sweet, and Iwaizumi has never been so tempted to knock one of his perfect pearly white teeth right out of his stupid mouth."
Oikawa teases Iwaizumi about a childhood promise he made to marry him when they were older, except suddenly it's not really a joke at all.
the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle, by kittebasu (66k. T. canon divergent)
Is this one of the most famous Iwaoi fic? I don’t know. Looks like it, I know it's my personal favorite. Where Oikawa studies bugs for a living and can’t seem to come to terms with his feelings. Very angsty, love that in a fic.
Tooru is pretty sure he could manage the mating habits of a mosquito. It’s the mating habits of people he can’t seem to get right.
Terrarium, by sausaged (11k. T. Post-canon)
Honestly, I’m so surprised this fic doesnt have more hits! It’s so good! Made me ache! I love the memories and character growth shown through the growing of the terrarium, absolutely adore that kind of symbolism. So beautiful, give it some love because it's one of my absolute favorites.
He's practically a professional at being proactive (lies, lies, and lies when it comes to Iwaizumi).
At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?
Can he really tag his Instagram photos with #YOLO if he doesn't actually put that phrase into practice?
A story about Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, plants, and rocks.
Lips like sugar, by ohhotlamb (8k. T. canonverse)
Why did my childhood best friend never offer to help me practice kissing only for us to realize we were only interested in each other? I had a fake high school experience.
Hajime is offered to learn the art of kissing from a true professional, one Oikawa Tooru. It's not as bad as he thought it would be.
Falling Slowly, by bravely (commovente) (3k. T. canonverse)
So special, imagine loving one person, and one person only like this for the entirety of your life. This is getting too sappy, I want off of this ride.
over the years, some things change; but over the years, some things stay mostly the same.
(alternatively, mornings with oikawa and iwaizumi over the years).
No sleep in the city, by loveclouds (7k. T. canonverse)
Mass/volume = Iwaizumi, apparently. (Please. If anyone gets this absolutely horrific joke, lets elope).
Along their journey to find Tokyo's best ramen, Iwaizumi finds himself asked again and again why Oikawa is still single.
Time, by surveycorpsjean (5k. E. canonverse)
Growing older together.
When they're twenty-three, their story only begins.
Everything With You, by Ellessey (14k. E. canonverse)
Came damn near to crying, you can just feel Iwaizumi’s pain. Fight scene was probably the most emotion evoking one I’ve read in a long while.
‘Hajime still loves Oikawa, but he understands now. Oikawa can't look at him and see someone he could potentially date.
And that makes it easier to not focus on the little things that used to drive him crazy—Oikawa's long legs, the way he's always hanging off of Hajime, how his whole face changes when he gets ready for a jump serve, and he looks like he could take on the entire world and win.
This new arrangement though, this living together situation, is presenting a new set of variables that must be adjusted to, and the nakedness is one of them.’
For years, being Oikawa’s best friend has worked out fine. Hajime is hopelessly in love with him, but it’s enough. Then Oikawa—who, by all accounts, has never been anything but determinedly, assuredly straight—gets a boyfriend. Or a boy friend-with-benefits. Hajime doesn’t know, and he doesn’t give a shit about the definition.
What he knows is that remaining best friends is starting to seem a bit too painful (way too painful) to be considered a solid option.
The Best Best, by rikke (12k. T. canonverse/future fic)
Takeru is a whole mood. Don’t want kids, but I do want domesticity and this fic feeds me well.
“Congratulations, Iwa-chan! You’re a dad!” Iwaizumi hears as soon as the door opens. He’s dealt with Oikawa for all of his twenty-one years of age now, but this declaration is still sufficiently disturbing enough that he turns from his place on the couch and braces himself for whatever Oikawa has done this time.
Or the one where Iwaizumi and Oikawa babysit Takeru for a week.
cheek kisses, by ohhotlamb (G. 3k. Future fic)
“Every time,” Hajime murmurs, “every time I see you again I remember how fuckin’ crazy I am about you.”
Routine, by snoqualmie (2k. T. canonverse)
Again, anyone wanna be my childhood best friend so we can put face masks on each other and fall in love? I died, truly.
Iwaizumi is fourteen years old, horny too often and angry all the time, and he’s just starting to notice that Tooru’s legs are really long, that his lips are kinda soft looking, and his fingers feel good pressed under his jaw.
Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad, by sunsmasher (19k. G. canon divergence)
Be wary, I would give this fic an upper rating to probably Teen and the follow-up fic is Explicit. But, Oikawa on the Japanese national team is just a dream as is, but add in a rekindling friendship and an angsty make out sesh? Mwah, delizioso.
It’s July 10th, 2024, and Oikawa Tooru is an Olympian. His smiling face airs on an NHK promo every 45 seconds. He’s captain of the national men’s volleyball team, reigning star of the professional leagues, and he hasn't spoken to Iwaizumi Hajime in two years.
He has, however, sent Iwaizumi tickets for the 2024 Los Angeles Summer Games.
“So go,” says Matsukawa's voice. “It’s only a few weeks. You’ve got a whole city to hide in if it gets awkward, and if it doesn’t get awkward, well…”
It’s like watching the future reconfigure, like being in high school again, watching team after team fall to Oikawa’s faultless planning and shameless charm.
“I’ll get to watch a whole lot of volleyball,” Hajime says, and resigns himself to fate and/or Oikawa Tooru.
“Hey, when you get there, can you bag a gymnast for me?” Hanamaki asks, and Matsukawa squawks.
Chasing Paper Suns, by carafin (10k. T. Future fic)
Again with the growing up and coming back together, this time with more angst than the last. Lovely, really lovely read.
Post-high school, Oikawa makes it to the national volleyball team but Iwaizumi doesn't. The next three years become an exercise in growing up without growing apart.
Some days Hajime likes to think of himself as Oikawa’s counterpart—the two of them blending into a single devastating unit, the invincible setter and his unyielding ace, the bond between them unbreakable and true. Other days he feels like he is chasing after a rising sun, always running and running with his eyes fixed on the distance, trying to cross a chasm that stretches on without end, caught in an endless and exhausting pursuit.
the yellow room, by ohhotlamb (14k. T. canonverse/future fic)
Makki and Mattsun see bullshit and call you out on your bullshit.
“I told you, we broke up like six months ago. We’re not dating anymore.”
Hanamaki eyes him suspiciously. “You live together.”
“There are pictures of you two kissing stuck to your refrigerator.”
Hajime shrugs. “That wasn’t my idea. Anyways, they’re good pictures. Good lighting.”
the river runs, by tothemoon (11k. T. post-breakup)
My heart ACHES. Happy ending, promise! Just read it.
One year since their breakup, Oikawa Tooru starts a list of daily reminders, tips, and tricks called HOW TO FORGET ABOUT IWAIZUMI HAJIME, and he’s determined to make it stick.
This is a firsthand account of how to deal (and rather spectacularly, at that).
I sure hope that guy gets fired, by Xov (29k. T. canonverse/time loop au)
The only thing better than one confession, is MULTIPLE confessions. Oikawa trusts Iwaizumi unshakably, and that's beautiful.
It was the fourth time experiencing the exact same day that Iwaizumi Hajime reluctantly admitted to himself that something was very wrong.
my only friend was the man in the moon (until i met you), by ohhotlamb (7k. T. canonverse)
Just so innocent and sweet. Oikawa said ‘effort’.
In which Oikawa has a life-altering revelation, and Hajime is starting to think it involves him.
Bet On It, by originalblue (13k. E. canonverse)
Tooru being nice for a week? That can only end one way… with a d*ck in Hajime’s mouth.
Hajime knows exactly how shitty Oikawa's personality is, and has no scruples whatsover about betting Oikawa six thousand yen that he can't be nice for an entire week.
especially for tender ones like us, by viverella (17k. T. canonverse/post break-up)
Gods! See? See what I mean? How could I forget about a work as heart wrenchingly beautiful as this? Give it some love, actually, all of the love.
The worst part of it all, Tooru thinks to himself sometimes, is that even as they fought and kicked and screamed and tore each other to shreds, it was never that Tooru stopped loving Iwaizumi any less. The worst part of it all, he thinks, is that loving Iwaizumi turned out to not be enough.
(OR: on finding the right person at the wrong time and learning how to pick up the pieces)
sunset town, by skiecas (33k. T. canon-divergent)
Another work that I just CANNOT understand why it doesn't have more hits. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. I almost cried.
In the summer of 2020, Oikawa Tooru returns home from his first successful stint as captain of Japan’s national volleyball team. In one hand, he holds the undisputed weight of an Olympic medal, and in the other, his unresolved feelings for a childhood best friend.
Two years down the road, reconciling his lifelong dream with his lifelong love proves to be the greatest challenge.
of odd numbers and intimate regrets, by bravely (commovente) (5k. T. post-canon/one night stand au)
Basically, Tooru and Hajime sleep together after not speaking for seven years and of course there’s feelings and angst and a belated chance at happiness and a life together.
Tooru’s spent the last seven years of his life in a carefully constructed schedule that is, he realises now, as much a habit as it was a way to forget about the person in front of him.
[or, the one night stand AU between two people more than friends but not quite lovers, measuring the passage of time in distance and long-gone memories, the expansion and contraction of the spaces between their fingers each time.]
cross my heart, open wide, by acchikocchi (7k. T. canonverse)
Super cute, super short. Realizing you're on a date with the wrong person one-shot.
For a minute Hajime doesn't know what to say. Everything and nothing crowds his mind, leaving no room to think. That he's never tried this. That volleyball's over. That he's graduating in five months. That it would be really nice, at least once, to go on a date with a good-looking guy.
Hajime goes on a date. It's not with Oikawa.
Fernweh, by oikawashoyo (19k. G. canonverse/post time skip)
A mature(ish) Tooru?? I love works that show Tooru growing and living happily in Argentina and this one is just beautiful. (Plus! Plus, Skai did a piece on it as well and I love ALL their work so you can visualize everything). Love it.
Argentina is stretching out before him, an opportunity, a challenge. He is reminded of his losses, his insecurities, his disappointments; sees them form a tall, tall wall blocking his path to success. He takes a deep breath and knows he is going to shatter it.
In which Oikawa's whole life is spent longing for the horizon — in the form of a dream, a home, and a boy.
i breathe easily in your arms, by orphan_account (2k. M. canonverse)
Soft, soft sex
When, after completing their high school graduation ceremony and heading home to enjoy their freedom, Oikawa had pulled him into his room and pressed his lips hesitantly against Iwaizumi’s own, it seemed an inevitable development in the unfolding narrative of their shared existence.
Despite years of having a bed to himself, the sensation of another body taking up space in his sheets, curling against his chest, creating warmth, feels natural in much the same way.
old and new, by Mysecretfanmoments (5k. T. canon divergence)
Finally a fic where they don't freak out on confession and it's sweet.
“You seem—sad.” Was that the right word? Others sprang to mind: desperate, lonely, anxious.
Tooru looked away. “Are you going to make me say it?”
Tooru folded his arms, sighed. “I missed you, of course.”
“No need to look that way. I told you, I’m not one of your macho man buddies. I’m allowed to say stuff like that without being embarrassed—”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Hajime complained. “No need to be so defensive. I’ve missed you too.”
“Oh?” Tooru seemed to get a little of his own back, leaning forward on his elbows. “What about me did you miss?”
((Going to separate universities, Hajime and Tooru learn the true meaning of "distance makes the heart grow fonder"))
all i wanted was you, by spaceburgers (6k. E. college/fwb au)
This was more emotional than I thought a 6k friends with benefits fic could be, okay? Okay.
Wherein Hajime and Tooru are fuck buddies, Hajime curses his treacherous heart, and Tooru is bad with feelings.
we shine like diamonds, by whitemiists (26k. T. canon divergence)
I couldn't not include this work. It deals with internalized homophobia so well and I really resonate with it.
In all seriousness, I’m very lucky to live in a country where my sexuality is widely accepted and my heart goes out the LGBTQIA+ peoples who are forced to hide themselves. You are loved and your sexuality and gender-identity are not wrong and never will be.
Oikawa is nine when he first hears the word. The boys on the playground whisper it like it's dirty, like the way they daringly mutter the word fuck and then look over their shoulders to check their parents hadn't heard.
"You know Abe-kun from class?" they snicker, hands cupped around their mouths like they're passing along a filthy secret. "I hear his older brother is... gay."
Look For Him, by Leryline (18k. E. canonverse)
A collection of kisses. I love Hajime’s grandmother.
She laughs gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so heartbroken before, Hajime.”
Iwaizumi sighs and prods at the mackerel with a chopstick. “Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s just different, you know? Like Oikawa pissed me off so much that now he’s not here I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“But you weren’t always annoyed with him, were you?” his grandmother smiles serenely and takes a sip of her tea. “My, my, Hajime, old women see everything. I saw you out there with my finches, when you were kissing Tooru’s nose. Your mother and father used to do the very same thing, you know, when they were younger. And look how long they’ve lasted. I hope you and Tooru last, Hajime. He’s very good for you.”
Oikawa has kissed Iwaizumi more times than either of them can count; it’s a constant thing, their lips never really leaving the other’s skin. There are, however, times when they’ve kissed that are burned into their memories. Eight of them, to be precise.
film reel life, arsenicjay (8k. T. canon divergence)
Such a unique and creative idea! Reading from the eyes of a camera, so beautiful!
The only person Iwaizumi is lying to is himself, when he insists: I am not in love with Oikawa Tooru.
how to let your planets align, by tether (tothemoon) (15k. T. end of the world au)
This is the only remotely non-happy ending fic I will be including on here, and it's purely because it's a gorgeous read. And yes, I ached. Your lips, my lips, apocalypse.
It is the last day on earth, December 2nd, 1985, when you realize you're in love with him.
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I'll Write This Scene a Thousand Times - Ch1
AO3 Link || Next Chapter
Ship: Moceit (Janus/Patton)
Warnings: Alcohol, Implied sex, one-night stand, rumours and scandal, swearing, I would recommend a 16+ readership, but since this isn't actually explicit I guess use your discretion?
Summary: For all accounts and purposes, Patton Hart should have been able to make it through his twenties in the music industry without coming face to face with a scandal. The perfect package of talented and adorable, with family connections to boot, all he'd had to do was keep out of trouble, and he was good at that.
He hadn't counted on running into Janus Lyre. The beautiful, frustrating, devil-may-care actor evidently has some sort of effect on Patton, driving him to make the sort of mistake that never would have crossed his mind previously. Now, with their faces plastered across the internet and fledgling careers on the line, the two of them need to keep the lie of their fleeting relationship sustained.
‘The sweetheart and the snake’ - has Janus Lyre found a new ‘Hart’ to break?
Less than an hour after being photographed at the premiere for his own movie, the young star was seen at a swanky downtown nightclub - guess that’s one flick we won’t be catching!
But, dear readers, that’s not the most interesting part. With Lyre’s turbulent record over his few years of fame, one might say playing hooky is just a minor infraction for the beloved bad boy, but the same can’t be said for the cutie hanging off his arms in those photos! Some of you might have already recognised those cute brown curls and sunshine grin, and as hard as it may be to believe that is indeed Patton Hart.
The youngest son of now retired singer Ophelia Hart has made quite a name for himself recently, with his sugary sweet lyrics and impossibly innocent persona - impossibly being the operative word. Is the golden boy finally rebelling? Or had there always been a darker side to Hart, hidden behind the saccharine pastel branding?
Logan Wright: Just saw the news. Need to talk immediately. Send me your location, I can arrange for you to be picked up safely.
Logan Wright: Patton please pick up my calls
Logan Wright: I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how urgent this is??
Patton groaned around the headache coursing through his skull as he paced the wooden floors of the darkened bedroom, willing the phone in his hand to be still long enough for him to figure out what to do.
This had to be a bad dream.
Patton Hart was not the kind of guy to wake up in another man’s bed with a bad hangover, barely any memories of the previous night, a hundred missed calls from his manager, and compromising pictures of himself spread all over the internet.
Maybe if he just crossed his fingers real hard and opened up twitter again, it would all just be gone and he would wake up in his own home, sans migraine, and everything would be just fine.
Nope. Patton’s own besotted face was the very first thing that greeted him as he opened the app, gazing up at Janus Lyre of all people. He felt like he was looking at a stranger as he flicked through the images despite his own surmounting dread. He watched this weirdly confident version of himself, practically draping himself over a man he barely knew, grinning as Janus leaned in to whisper in his ear, kissing him in the street outside the nightclub, his own unfamiliar hands running through long dark locks, wandering down to lithe waist and hips, pulling their bodies even closer.
Patton felt sick. He had to call Logan, he knew that. Logan knew how to fix things, he would handle this.
Then again, Patton had never given him something like this to fix before.
The tweets underneath the photos ranged between a variety of reactions, from confused, to shocked, to disgusted to “always knew Patton Hart had a dirty side”, to “Can’t wait to see how long Janus keeps this one around.”
To be perfectly honest, all of them made the sea of dread and nausea in Patton’s gut rise and lurch.
“This is so bad,” he muttered to the figure that had just appeared in the doorway, glass of water in hand.
“Oh is it? Is it really? Oh, thank you so much for telling me, I would definitely have forgotten just how ‘bad’ this was if you weren't here to remind me.”
Janus Lyre was infuriatingly cool, in a way that no one really had a right to be in the mornings - let alone on this morning. Somehow, even in sweatpants, with his tousled hair tied back in a low ponytail, he managed to make Patton feel awkwardly underdressed for having put his own clothes back on. His smudged eyeliner, a relic of the night, only added to the effect of his condescending eyeroll.
Regardless, Patton was grateful to accept the water, and the aspirin that was dropped into his palm with it. At least he was a gracious host, all things considered.
He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, sipping slowly as he picked at a rip in his rumpled jeans. He could feel the weight of Janus’ eyes on him, but he didn’t want to look up. It felt like he’d be doing something wrong, shameful even, to be looking at the other man right now, despite all that had already transpired between them.
He didn’t know Janus, not really, but he had known of him. At least, he’d known he was bad news. He was an incredible actor, from what Patton had heard, and had managed to flourish in the past couple of years despite his young age and apparent lack of industry connections.
…Unfortunately, his incredible acting wasn’t all that he was known for. Janus’ name frequently popped up with regards to his sardonic responses to the press, disregard for convention, insulting important names in the industry, and generally being considered trouble.
Patton had often wondered how the man hadn’t been blacklisted yet. He never thought he’d end up tangled up with him in any way, much less this literally.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’re getting how serious this is,” he protested, “I - I just don’t understand how - there are pictures, Janus, everywhere, I have so many calls-”
Janus looked almost amused, as he leaned casually against the curtained windows, quirking an eyebrow at Patton.
“Oh dear, not pictures !” he mocked, “I take it this is your first time getting caught ‘ in flagrante’?”
“Wha- yes, of course!” Patton flushed.
“Well, don’t worry then, the first time is always the hardest,” Janus responded lightly, seeming as though he was getting quite bored with the conversation, and by extension, with Patton.
“I don’t exactly intend there to be a second time, just so you know,” Patton snapped,” I didn’t even intend for there to be a first time, quite frankly-”
Janus did look amused at this, grinning smugly as he replied, “Oh, is that right? You and I appear to remember last night very differently.”
“I’d really rather not talk about last night, thanks.”
“I’d happily talk about anything else. You are the one that keeps bringing it up,” Janus shrugged, before turning on his heel to face the window, tugging the curtain open by the corner, just enough to invite in a thin stream of light.
Patton might struggle with nuance sometimes, but even he understood that - Janus had got the last word in, and now he was done talking.
He huffed in annoyance, but it didn’t stop his traitorous eyes from following the graceful movement, tracing the dark lines of the tattoo that marked Janus’ light brown skin, a massive serpent that coiled and looped all over one side of his slender frame, seeming almost to writhe, hypnotically, with the slightest movement.
Patton tore his eyes away quickly, tugging self consciously at his own sweater sleeves. The cool water had helped slightly, but he could feel the dread settling in his stomach again. He didn’t belong in this situation, having wild midnight trysts with ridiculously pretty men, and whatever confidence the alcohol had apparently given him last night had evaporated, leaving him utterly unprepared for light, flirtatious morning-after banter.
“Um, well,” he cleared his throat and stood up, “I should probably go now, and call my manager to fix all this. Thank you for, er - the water, and last night, I guess, and I wish you all the best, of course.”
Janus didn’t even turn around to respond, “Oh, and I don’t suppose you’ll need transportation arranged?”
“No thank you, I can find my way-”
“And give the press an opportunity to catch you leaving the den of the snake? In the same clothes you entered in, no less?”
Luckily, Patton didn’t have to come up with a clever response, because Logan - his dear, wonderful, manager Logan - decided to call him at that very moment.
“...I have to take this.” he muttered triumphantly, turning around to lift the phone to his ear, “Hi, Logan, I am so, so, sorry - I meant to call you, I just-”
“No time,” Logan’s phone voice was as always, clipped and professional, and he got straight to the point, “I need to see you. Immediately. There is much to discuss. I trust you’ve had enough foresight to remain at Lyre’s residence and not step outside?”
“I - I’m still here, yep.” Patton blushed.
“Good. I’m sending a car, don’t leave the building until it arrives. And bring Lyre with you, please.”
“You want to meet Janus?”
“The subject I need to discuss with you also concerns him, so yes.”
“Oh- um, okay, I’ll bring him. Um, do you need an address?”
“No need, I have it.”
“That is my job, Patton.”
“Right, right, fair enough. Okay, I’ll see you.”
Patton had a flashback to middle school - the one time he was sent to see the principal for bad behaviour - as he knocked nervously on the door to Logan’s office.
He heard a scoff from behind him as he took a deep breath, preparing to open the door - it had been a struggle to get Janus to come along.
Just as he’d expected - and feared - Logan was wearing his “I am a professional and thus I am not going to get upset” face. What he hadn’t expected, was that this look didn’t seem directed at him.
Leaning back in the chair next to Logan’s, high heeled boots on the desk, was a man that Patton had never seen before - and between the half-black, half-silver mullet, curled moustache, and bright green glitter, he was pretty sure he’d remember if he had.
His eyes skipped over Patton entirely before settling on Janus and lighting up.
“J-Anus!” he cackled, “Thanks for not picking up any of my calls from last night, asshole!”
“Remus, good to see you,” Janus sighed, “Looks like your mummy called my mummy,” he whispered loudly to Patton.
To Remus, he said, “I do apologise, Remus, I turned my phone off because I was busy not watching the movie I was in. I’m sure you understand.”
“Ahem,” Logan interrupted, “Mr Lyre, thank you for coming in, Patton, this is Remus Rey, Mr Lyre's manager. Please take a seat, Remus and I have much to discuss with you.”
Patton waved politely at Remus, who winked back.
“Well first things first, I’d like to say congratulations to you both-”
“-But that was nasty fucking trick you pulled there, Jay! You promised me you’d stop disappearing from important events! You know how much work I have to do to clear that shit up?”
Janus shrugged like a petulant teenager. “Got bored.”
“I really am sorry for putting this on you, Logan.” Patton could see Logan’s knuckles tightening, a familiar tenseness in his jaw, that telegraphed that he was Not Having a Good Time.
“That’s - not to worry, Patton,” a twitch had started to develop in his right eye, “technically speaking, this is - my job.”
“And he’s pretty damn good at it if he’s managed to keep you out of trouble this long eh, Patty?” Remus cracked in, “I mean, for what it’s worth, I always knew there was more to you, but the two of you really had the rest of those idiots fooled, huh?”
“ Anyways,” Logan interrupted through gritted teeth, “Whilst the two of you were missing in action, so to speak…”
Patton sunk a little deeper in his seat. He wasn’t looking at him, but he was pretty sure he could feel Janus roll his eyes from beside him.
“...Remus and I had a chance to sit down and decide how to deal with this in a way that will benefit both parties.”
“ Oh, how fascinating, do tell .”
Logan, apparently much better equipped at dealing with smart-ass comments than Patton, ignored Janus entirely.
“Now, the two of you may have your reservations, but I request that you please hear us out before rejecting the matter entirely.”
“Now, the two of you may have your reservations, but I request that you please hear us out before rejecting the matter entirely.”
“Of Course we’ll hear you out!”
“ ...Yes, because that request didn’t raise any suspicions at all.”
“Remus and I think the best way to spin this current...situation to our advantage, would be with a relationship contract.”
There was a silence in the room for a minute as the full meaning of Logan’s words settled in. Well, a silence accompanied by Remus tapping out a rhythm on the edge of Logan’s desk with his - admittedly fabulous - acrylic nails. After what felt like a full minute he grinned at them.
“Pretty good, huh? It was my idea.”
”Yes, well, I cannot exactly deny that Remus was the one to suggest that,” Logan grumbled, “However, I do support it entirely, and am happy to proceed with your consent.”
“You want us to...date?”
“They want us to pretend to date,” Janus interjected, “A few staged photos, attend events on my arm, everyone thinks this was a sweet little lover’s outing and not a drunken fling.”
“See, I told you mine was smart!” Remus grinned proudly at Logan.
“...Indeed,” Logan nodded at Janus, “I understand you might have your compunctions, but this is the best way for us to spin this into something... close to brand-appropriate, for Patton. And as for you, Mr Lyre-”
“We’re hoping we can make it look like you’re finally setting down, starting to behave yourself, or some horseshit like that,” Remus cut in, “I gotta keep you booked somehow, Jan-Jan.”
Another long silence filled the room - and even Remus stayed quiet for this one. Patton stared at his lap. He didn’t exactly feel great about this sort of thing, but Logan had said it was the only way. And heck, this sort of stuff happened all the time in this line of work, he knew that. Right?
Janus spoke up first.
“How long would this contract be, exactly?”
“We were thinking one year,” came Logan’s reply.
A whole year?
"I assume there are rules?"
"Behave as though you're in a relationship, perform for the camera when necessary, and if you intend to have outside relations, do try to keep them private - or better yet, don't."
“...I’m amenable,” Janus said finally.
And then, Patton could feel three sets of eyes on him, waiting for a response. Logan, calm and expectant, as ever hiding his impatience behind professionalism. Remus, toothy-grinned, leaning forward as if he was watching a sports match.
And Janus. For the first time with sober eyes, Patton levelled his own gaze with Janus’. His face was as inscrutable as ever, but Patton could feel the unspoken challenge behind his mismatched eyes. Asking him whether Patton Hart could handle something like this. Or worse, outright stating that he couldn’t.
…Or maybe Janus wasn’t thinking any of that and it was just Patton’s own loopy consciousness egging him on. Either way, the words slipped out of his mouth before he even thought them.
“I’ll do it.”
107 notes · View notes
Leviathan - Chapter 104
Link to the masterpost. Chapter 103. Chapter 105.
@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.
Mission got us out. I’m really proud of her. She didn’t have to do any of this. I would have figured out another plan if she hadn’t. But she did really good. I smile at her. “I’d hug you if I wasn’t so sore.”
“Sore? What happened?” she asks.
“Torture. Bad,” I say, “I should be fine if nobody touches me.”
“The way you fight, I doubt anyone will,” Jolee says with a scoff.
“If I remember the layout of this ship right,” Carth says, “our equipment should be in a storage chamber just through the north doors.”
“Yep,” Mission says, “I was in tehre for a half hour, they brought everybody’s stuff in there.” A half hour? Damn, she was really difficult, good for her.
“After we grab our stuff we need to get to the main bridge controls,” he says, “The bridge is the only place we can open the docking gates of the hangar where they've got the Ebon Hawk. We have to open those gates before we can fly out of here!”
“We better get moving,” Bastila says, “I can feel the darkness of Malak's presence approaching, and I don't want to be here when he arrives. None of us is a match for the Sith Lord.”
“I agree,” I say, “Ordinarily, I’d just storm up to the bridge guns blazing, but I don’t think that’s the best approach right now.”
“Nor do I,” she says, “Surprise and secrecy will serve us best. A small group might have a better chance of sneaking onto the bridge undetected while the others make their way down to the Ebon Hawk.”
“Count me in, then,” Carth says, “I've got a score to settle with the Admiral before we get off this ship, and I have a feeling I'm gonna find him on the Leviathan's bridge!”
“Then I’m with you, too,” I say. I’m not leaving him. He needs incentive to come back to me.
Bastila nods. “The three of us will get our equipment and make our way to the bridge. The rest of you head down to the docking hangar where they've got the Ebon Hawk. You'll have to find a way to deal with guards.”
Canderous grins, an evil little grin, I love it. “Don't you worry about that,” he says, “I know how to deal with the guards. They won't know what hit them!”
“Then grab your stuff and go,” I say, “We’ll meet you as soon as we get the docking bay doors open.”
“Just make sure the Hawk is ready to fly when we get there,” Bastila says, “And may the Force be with you.”
Only the stuff we were wearing is in the lockers. I guess they haven’t had the chance to fully clear out the Hawk. My droid tool kit is still intact, too; the way this day’s been going, I half-expected it to be picked clean. My Jedi robe feels soft on my skin, really nice over my sore self. I do a quick check, turning my arms, getting ready for a fight. I can still move just fine, I’m just sort of achey. Damn it, Saul, you sadist.
“Hey,” Carth says softly behind me. So I turn to him. “About… earlier…”
“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have said anything even though Saul already knew everything, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t just stay silent, I could not live to see him hurt you like that, okay? So just…”
“Rena, I understand,” he says, “Honestly, I- I don’t think I could have done it, either, if our situations were reversed.”
“You just…” I say, “… you looked so disappointed in me before.”
“Maybe I was… a little,” he says, “But the position he put you in, and the fact that he knew the answers anyway and was just being cruel for the sake of it, I know you did what you had to. And… if you weren’t so sore, like you said, I…”
I know. I hug him before he can finish. “Just don’t elbow me in the stomach, I’ll be fine.” He chuckles. After a few moments I let go. “We need to get going. Before Malak gets here.” He nods and grabs his blasters from the locker. I grab my lightsabers, clip them to my belt. Sling my pack over my shoulder. I’m ready.
Carth leads the way. He knows where he’s going. Looks cautiously both ways down the hallway. “Elevator’s this way,” he says. We follow. Two troopers where the hall turns, but I throw one of my lightsabers and they’re dead. Simple. He leads us forth. Next intersection, holds his hand up. We wait. Trooper passes. We keep going to the elevator.
My comm unit buzzes in my back pocket. “This is Canderous. We're at the Ebon Hawk. Like we figured, it's under heavy guard. But don't worry... we'll figure out a plan to take care of them.”
“Good luck,” I say before deactivating the comm.
Then, behind us - “ATTENTION ALL HANDS. INTRUDER ALERT! THE JEDI ARE FREE!” Goddamnit! The one trooper we don’t kill is the one to report us. Talk about ungrateful. So much for secrecy. With a few quick sweeps of her lightsaber, Bastila kills him, but the damage has been done.
“How much harder does this make it to access the bridge?” I ask Carth.
“The door will be locked tight,” he says, “We’ll have to figure out something else, some other way to get there.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” No pun intended, of course.
The elevator takes us to the command deck. We can work our way to the bridge from here. “Okay, Carth, which way do we go? Left or right?” I ask him.
“Left will get us to the bridge fastest but since it’s locked that won’t do us much good.”
“How would the bridge crew get there during a lockdown?” Bastila asks, “Perhaps there are passcards, we could take one.”
“It used to be an ID number, you just memorize it. But Saul probably changed something, or maybe the Sith have a different system.”
System. I have an idea. “My bypass code,” I say, “If you can get me to a computer terminal, I can probably use my bypass code to open the door.”
“You have a bypass code for Sith computers?” Bastila asks, “Where did you get that?”
“From a Sith scout, long story, no time to tell,” I say, “Where’s the nearest console?”
“Turn right, it’s in the droid bay,” he says, “Right then left.”
“IT’S THE JEDI!” Goddamn it! Stupid alarm - would someone turn that off? Now that the troopers are on high alert, they’re harder to take out in one fell swoop. And they’ve pulled out the heavy weaponry. Let’s see how well this new crystal works. I deflect several bolts, working my way forward while Carth lays down fire. Bastila pushes forward more aggressively than I’ve ever seen her before, but quite gracefully. Nice form. Very dramatic. I’ll have to get her to tell me what it is later.
That’s one wave down. I doubt it’ll be the last. “How quickly can you do this, Rena?” she asks.
“Just watch my speed.” The droid bay, save for a few droids, is empty, and the computer is in an adjoining room. Okay. Alpha, alpha, double bar, beta sigma, little red star. “I’m in. First thing to do is shut off that damned alarm.| A few button pushes and bam. No more siren.
“Sounds like progress to me,” Bastila says.
“Can you get the bridge open?” Carth asks.
“This is a roundabout system,” I say, “I have to keep jumping through hoops to even find the bridge commands.” Come on, baby, work with me. No, no, no, don’t say that. Damn! “Looks like Saul is two steps ahead of me. The only one who can open the bridge is him, from the bridge.”
“So we’re back to square one,” Carth groans.
“Don’t sell me short just yet, hot stuff,” I say, “Saul may be smart, but he’s not smarter than me. If he was, he wouldn’t have threatened you. He may have blocked me from the direct route, but there’s only so many back doors you can close off before people start complaining that they can’t get any work done.” Work orders. Engineers and service droids see every part of the ship, so they have ways to get everywhere. “Looks like there was a battle right before they picked us up, there was some damage to the hull, blew a hole in the bridge.”
“It’s in space, that won’t do us any good,” Carth says.
“It does us a lot of good, it means that the space suits are out of storage, we can just take them and walk to the bridge from the outside. All we have to do is get to the airlock.”
“You say that like it’s easy,” Bastila says.
“We’re on the Sith flagship, nothing is easy,” I say, “But this is the best of a lot of bad options, so it’s space walk or nothing. Unless you’ve suddenly got the computer power to calculate all the possible ID codes to open the door.” Could I program a droid to do that? Sure, in an hour. But we don’t have an hour. Space walk is the best idea. I hate it, but it’s the only option here.
Bastila thinks for a moment, then sighs. “Where would the airlock be?”
“Other end of the deck,” Carth says, “but the space suits would be in the armory, that’s just around the corner.”
I get into the security system quickly and unlock every door I can between here and the airlock. “We should hurry,” I say, “Just because the alarm is off doesn’t mean the troopers will stop.”
Second wave in the hall. Six troopers, two for each of us. Some of them even planned ahead and brought swords. It’s almost like all the good Sith are stationed here. You’d think they’d spread out the competent fighters a bit more. God, my ribs hurt! I got this. I got this. False swipe, side swipe, one down. Double block the second, pushing my lightsabers against his one sword. With one big push he stumbles back, lost his balance. Slice. Done. Bastila dispatches her two, and Carth follows soon after. Second wave done.
The armory is unlocked, I did that earlier. But… I stop Carth from walking in. “Hang on,” I say, “Something’s not right.” I open the door and stand aside, look. A mine? Seriously? Who would lay an explosive down on a ship where almost everyone is wearing a full head helmet? Nobody can see! “Let me deactivate this.” Whoever set this has a solid grasp on wiring, I’d be impressed if I had the time. But it’s a standard model mine, not a custom job, so all I have to do is cut the detonator wire. And this setup is nice and neat so no problems. Snip snip. “Okay, we’re good.” The space suits consist of a study helmet and a bulky suit. Since we have to carry them, we’ll have to be quick because there’s no way we can hold onto the suits and fight at the same time, they’re just too bulky.
Carth seems to read my mind. “We can cut through the next room and we’ll right next to the bridge storage, the airlock’s just past there.”
“Awesome. One second, there’s another mine.” Snip snip the wire, easy. Really, whose bright idea was it to put mines there? Sure, it could hurt us, but it could also hurt their own troops which is only good for us. Stupid idea, really.
Bastila stops us now, just before the bridge storage and airlock. “Rena, be ready,” she says, “There’s… something.”
“I’m always ready.” Open the door. I sense it, too. Dark Jedi. If I can figure out Jolee’s stasis trick… I reach out one hand with the Force, giving it a shot before I go all the way in. First try, awesome! So nice to be a quick study. But I have no idea how long it’ll last so I better get in before they unfreeze. There’s three of them, so I focus on the one in the middle first, then the one on the right. When they unfreeze, the second one can barely stand and the last one is outnumbered. He starts with Bastila, which is a better choice than starting with me but still a horrible decision. The only wise decision he could have made was to cut and run, but now he has to face two Jedi at once. And I fight dirty. And when he’s dead, we move on to the airlock.
"Sensei said girls love swans." | Okkotsu Yuuta x fem!reader
♡ ♡ ♡ description: Just a small box of chocolates, bought on a whim, gifted for no apparent reason. Or so you say.
♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: none, good bad advices from Gojo.
♡ ♡ ♡ notes: I'm working on three other stories with Nanami, Gojo and Toji but had to write something for best boy Yuuta. We're getting volume 0 animated! This was done at the speed of light so please forgive any errors.
♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 2.29 k
Valentine’s Day was quite a surprise this year. You didn’t expect the world to just revert back to old habits so soon, but then again you understood the craving for what was once considered normal. More than a year had passed since the Shibuya incident and with Gojo Satoru finally being released from his prison, things were slowly calming down.
Two major changes came as a result of the near annihilation of Tokyo, one was that now the world was aware of the existence of curses and two was the high number of people that had awoken cursed energy. What were once empty classrooms and training grounds of the Jujutsu Tokyo High School, were now filled with first year students ready to learn from the best. Although the older generation was composed of just a handful of students, they were really the top of the Jujutsu world.
All of your senpais were impressive in their own right so all of them had gathered quite a following of first years. The most popular, by far, was Fushiguro Megumi, the one that possessed the Ten Shadows Technique of the Zen’in clan. A lethal combination of looks, power and status, or so your classmates claimed.
On the opposite end of the spectrum was the third year Okkotsu Yuuta. He was a rare sight on campus and whenever he was present he didn’t interact much with any of the first years. The first time you’ve met him was during a group mission where he was there to supervise. The curse ended up being a special grade and if Yuuta hadn’t jumped in to help you, you’d all be dead. You still remember the bitterness of your classmates when he offered his feedback. Clearly he was right on all points but he didn’t honey glazed any of his words. That incident had caused a string of nasty rumours to spread and everyone in your class began to avoid him as much as possible. You guessed no one was in a hurry to offer him any gifts today.
As for yourself, you tagged along with some of the girls from your class as they chose the best chocolates for their favourite senpais. You didn’t have anyone you really wanted to gift them to, so you bought a small box purely for selfish reasons.
You headed back to campus and as you approached the training grounds you noticed that a small crowd of students were already gathered there. In the middle of them stood Megumi whose arms could barely hold the large number of gifts he had received. The deadpan expression on his face made it clear he wasn’t enjoying the attention.
“You girls better hurry, Megumi-kun looks like he has reached his limit.”
Turning around you were greeted by Gojo who was also carrying quite an impressive quantity of Valentine’s gifts.
“Sensei is really popular.”
“Please don’t sound so surprised.”
As your little conversation went on, your friends quickly abandoned you in order to join the crowd.
“Not gonna join them?” You shook your head as your hands tighten on the handle of your backpack where your box of chocolates was hiding.
“I didn’t buy any chocolates...I mean I did buy chocolates just not for...I should probably head to class.” Feeling too ashamed to admit your selfish purchase, you hurried down the path to the main entrance before Gojo could question you further.
Just as you were about to reach your destination you suddenly noticed a figure not too far from you. Yuuta was strolling along the same path and his expression was not a happy one. Your earlier guess must have been correct judging by his slumped shoulders. Now you never truly worried yourself with his well being, but it just felt so incredibly unfair that he was marginalized like this. At the end of the day, even if he wasn’t easy to talk to, he was a responsible senpai who wouldn’t hesitate to jump in to help others when needed. With that thought in mind, you quickened your pace and called out to him.
“Okkotsu-senpai! Okkotsu-senpai, please wait!”
He stopped in his track and turned to look at you with a surprised expression.
“Y/n-chan, are you okay?”
You nodded as you caught up with him, impressed that he even bothered to remember your name, and opened your backpack to retrieve the box of chocolates.
“For you senpai, Happy Valentine’s Day!” You gave him the most sincere smile you could muster and handed him the small box. Oh well, better for your cavities you suppose.
With a trembling hand he took the small gift and grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you! I’ll treasure it!” It was just a box of cheap chocolates, you thought, definitely not worth the excitement.
“Urm I’m happy you like them. Anyway, have a good day, see you around!” You practically dashed to your classroom, cheeks red from embarrassment. You didn’t know why you were so nervous or why that silly grin of his made you so flustered.
As you sat down at your desk, you wondered if you did the right thing. You didn’t want him to believe you had feelings for him and you also hoped he didn’t think you did it out of pity. You just thought it was the right thing to do at that time and it was just a small gesture, definitely not worth a second thought.
Or so you hoped until White Day arrived and you found quite a surprising gift on your desk that morning. A large bouquet of roses, there must have been over a hundred. No note though, as if the person that had left them just expected for you to know whom they were from.
You could hear the whispers of your classmates and you shifted uncomfortably. You weren’t really popular, no reasons for someone to give you such an impressive present, so of course rumours began to spread.
As you sat on a bench during lunch break with the bouquet in your lap, you raked up your brain trying to figure out who would offer you flowers.
“Oh no, you don’t like them!”
Yuuta’s voice brought you back to reality and you blinked ever so slowly as you looked at his worried expression. Your eyes dropped to the red roses in your lap and then back to your senpai that was just a few feet away from the bench you were sitting.
“These...these are from you?” Well you did gift him that box of chocolates and this was White Day, technically he was supposed to return the gift. Still, a cheap box of bonbons couldn’t compare to the expensive bouquet that he had gifted back.
“Gojo-sensei said you’re supposed to buy something impressive in order to show your appreciation for the gift you received. I didn’t know what you liked and he suggested roses, he said all girls loved red roses.”
Of course it was Gojo Satoru, it was always Gojo Satoru.
“Senpai, thank you, but this is too much! Those chocolates weren’t really that expensive.”
“No, no, they were pretty good! I ended up eating the whole box! Gojo-sensei tried to steal one away, that didn’t end up well for him.” Good, you thought, he deserved it for unnecessarily complicating things.
“Well if you say so, then I’m happy. I’ve never received flowers before, well my father bought me a bouquet when I graduated middle school but I don’t think that counts.”
“I’ve never received chocolates before, so I guess we’re both at the beginning.” The beginning of what, you wondered, as he offered you a somewhat sly smile.
“I should get these to my room before they wither.”
“Yeah I should probably head to the training ground.” You said your respective farewells before going in opposite directions. This had been awkward to say the least and you were glad it was over.
However, naivety got the best of you. The next morning you were greeted by a large teddy bear that was placed in your seat. Your eyebrow began to twitch as you heard whispers spreading in the classroom.
“Hey is that from Okkotsu? Super creepy!”
“Yeah, poor Y/n-chan.”
“What do you mean by that?” Your patience had reached its limit and with narrowed eyes you turned to look at the girls you heard whispering.
“Don’t you know, Okkotsu curses his lovers!”
“Yeah, he becomes obsessed with them and then they die in mysterious ways!”
“That is literally the most idiotic thing I’ve heard in my life.” Sure, you knew the story of Rika, but from actual reliable sources you also knew that it was a tragic accident that happened when Yuuta was only a child. It was disturbing how they twisted the story just because they were afraid of him.
“If you have this much time to waste on spreading such stupid rumours then I suggest you channel that energy in training. Otherwise you’ll be stuck at grade 4 until the end of days.” As a grade 2 sorcerer yourself, maybe you shouldn’t have looked down on them, but for some reason the way they were acting towards Yuuta was just infuriating and you found yourself becoming quite protective.
You never snapped at them like this before, if anything you were considered quite docile, so the whole class fell silent. You grabbed the giant teddy bear from your seat and stomped towards the door, nearly bumping into Gojo as the later stepped inside the room.
“Where you going Y/n-chan? Class is about the start.”
“I’m going to find Yuuta!” You huffed and walked out of the classroom, knowing full well that you will probably get punished for your actions.
“Y/n-chan is so determined! Everyone, you should have more determination as well!” That was the last thing you heard as Gojo closed the door behind you.
You began your search for Yuuta, trying to ignore the looks that the faculty members you came across were giving you. You must have looked quite ridiculous, carrying that large teddy bear around.
You finally found him near the armoury, and judging from his sweaty appearance you guessed he had just finished training.
He looked at you, almost in a panicked way and you quickened your pace so he couldn’t make a run for it.
“Senpai, this has to stop.” You really didn’t want to tell him your real motives from that day but you also couldn’t let this chain of gifts continue.
“That box of chocolates wasn’t initially for you. I bought it for myself, I only gave it to you because senpai looked so upset. I’m sorry that you misunderstood, it’s not pity or anything, I just thought you deserved it.” You didn’t even stop to breath, you had to let it all out and explain before you lost your nerve. “I’m really happy you liked them but I don’t deserve all these presents in return.”
You looked at him and expected to see anger or disappointment, instead you were greeted with light laughter.
“You’re really cute! Maki-san said not to tease you too much because you’re such a good girl. I guess she didn’t realize how much of a good girl you actually are.” The way he said ‘good girl’ made your heart skip a beat. It sounded almost provocative.
Within a second, he had closed the distance between the two of you and his hand reached to stroke your cheek ever so gentle. Suddenly he was there and you became hyperaware of his powerful presence. You noticed the pretty colour of his eyes, how his hand was just a bit rough and how that small smirk of his made your knees weak and your cheeks burn. You gulped and he seemed to enjoy your reaction.
“I don’t mind that the box of chocolates wasn’t for me. I’m just glad it gave me the opportunity to talk to you.” At this point you felt so bad you hoped the earth beneath you would just crack open and swallow you whole.
“Anyway, you should probably head to class before Gojo-sensei gets upset. Let me get that for you.” He reached for the teddy bear in your arms but you gripped it and pulled back.
“I would like to keep this, it’s a special gift from senpai and I’ll treasure it.” Sure this all began because of a silly box of chocolates but you were also happy that you finally got to see a glimpse of him that not many people got the chance to see. Now that you had a taste of it, you wanted more.
“Well I wasn’t planning on taking it away, just wanted to help you carry it.”
“It’s fine, the whole school saw me already so I might as well parade with it back to class.”
He studied your face for a few moments before his expression turned serious.
“Y/n-chan, do you think we could go-”
“I’d love to go on a date!”
You beat him to it but you wanted to make sure he knew, even before asking, that you really wanted to get to know him better.
“I see, I’m really happy.” His hand reached for yours and gripped it gently. It never failed to surprise you how cool and confident he looked at times and then he did a one hundred eighty and turned into this awkward and adorable mess.
“I must admit this is the first time I’ve asked someone out. I’ll be sure to ask Gojo-sensei-”
“Oh no, please promise me to never ask Gojo-sensei for advice concerning girls.” He was probably laughing like a mad man while giving Yuuta such cringe worthy ideas for your gifts.
“Oh but sensei said girls love swans and-”
104 notes · View notes
Thomas Shelby x Reader
Now, I can’t be sure, but I think when Tommy said “They haven’t invented the fucking words.” I took it as a challenge. Did I live up to it? I guess all of you will have to decide that. I think the vibes are a little off, but this idea has been living in my head for so long and I had to do SOMETHING with it. Besides, I think that he does have these stories to tell, if only he knew how to face it. Someone else needs to share that burden. Thomas is real fucking soft in this. Maybe the next thing I write with him won’t be so soft, but he’s usually so reserved. His violence is hard to write because it’s very strategic. Anyway, I’m rambling.
Thank you guys for the support on my other fanfic. I really appreciate it.
warnings: definitely language, themes of death and war and trauma, I wanted this to be a bit sad
You choose your time to ask him carefully. Every day you watch his face, his eyes, whether or not he crosses his legs when he sits down, how many glasses of whiskey he drinks before finally settling in. If you pose the question to him at the wrong time, when the events of the day have already mounted so high that he can barely keep himself afloat, he will never tell you. You have one chance, just one. Sometimes you think you can say it, force the jagged words from your throat so you can quench your morbid curiosity and live knowing what you want to know. Each time, he seems to sense the question mounting and serves you a subtle reminder of who he is and of how little he knows how to form the answer you want. Even so, you remind yourself; curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.
You usually get home from work before him. The big house seems to hover between worlds, unable to settle or choose a side. It sits somewhere in the middle of the chaos of Birmingham’s underworld and the dreamy bareness of the countryside. It’s easy to forget how big the world is in there. Only the maids seem to move once you step inside, everything else holding the kind of wavering stillness one expects to see only in fever dreams. The space is large, too large for you alone to fill. Barely can the spark of your energy or life create a vibration in the still-water surface of the atmosphere. This is a house for parties, for large groups of people with infinite energy for noise and dancing and each other. Without that the decorations and furniture and extravagant paintings boasting wealth melt into each other and become indistinct, blending with the emptiness.
Only once Thomas joins you in the solitude can you ignore the purgatory of his empty manor. Today the usual worried wrinkle between his eyes is gone, alleviated by productivity. He graces you with a quick smile coming through the door and murmurs that he’ll meet you in the parlor once he’s gotten some things in order. You nod. If whatever he’s doing is important you’d know about it already and you don’t mind getting settled before him.
20 minutes later Tommy walks into the living room and slings his jacket over his shoulder. He makes a beeline to the dark wooden table in the corner where his stash of alcohol sits in perfect organization. He places his hand on the bottle of whiskey and holds it there. His fingers trace the faces of the carved glass and press down harder on the vertices as if vaguely wishing to feel a hint of sharpness beneath his skin. For a moment he freezes there, deliberating, then sighs and wanders over to plop himself down on the couch across from you. He waits to meet your eyes and focuses on the little reflections of the chandelier above you in the glass tea table between you. Only when you sigh and nestle back into the polyester pillows behind you does he seem to snap out of his concentrated reverie.
His attention lands on you and his eyebrows furrow a bit. “Are you going to finally ask me or are you going to keep waiting for circumstances that will likely never arrive?”
Shock forces thoughtless words from your mouth. “Ask you what?”
“Whatever it is that’s been making you watch me the same way you watch drunk men in the Garrison.” The tiny snap in his words forces all your attention on him. The sudden layer of hardened mastery in his eyes holds you there, the will to look away escaping you as the cards are are laid out.
You struggle to find a way out of the spotlight he’s thrown you under. Neither of you know how to back down from this, all too used to quiet battles of will. A stalemate forms in the empty air between you. You both turn to stubborn iron statues forged by the unspoken rules of the privilege of movement, considering each other. The stakes mount higher than he realizes. To him this is a battle, a problem to be solved in order to complete another meaningless task of the day. It’s simple, something he assumes will create no ebb in the tsunami that is his usual outlook on life. You know that your question will linger on him like the phantom pain of a wound long since healed even if he refuses to answer it.
Most think that a Shelby holds nothing sacred, but never have you heard him utter anything more than a few words on the subject you plan to broach. Even when he does, he does so quickly, brushing up against the surface of a void so encompassing that none are brave enough to step into it. He must know, somewhere in the complex webbing of his thoughts, that it won’t by easy as he expects. These patterns have played out between you on a lesser scale hundreds of times, and you know that backing down is no longer an option. He has too much pride to let you win.
You blink hard and take a moment to settle into the expectant silence, just one last time. This is soft, is welcoming and patient compared to the words sitting on the top of your tongue. The peace of an impasse is often preferable to a negotiation on enemy terrain.
You take a deep breath and drop your eyes, surrendering. “I don’t feel like you hide things from me anymore. These days, you give me the full story or nothing. You’ve told me about your dad, about Freddie, about your mom, even. But you’ve never-” You close your eyes and force the words out from where they huddle like cowards in your throat. “You’ve never told me anything about the war. All I know comes from your brothers. Hell, Finn has told me more than you, and he wasn’t even there.”
“And what have they said to you?”
You open your eyes and find Thomas has leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms. “Between Arthur and John, I know you were a tunneler and ended up a second class Warrant Officer. Finn said you were in an ambush and a cave in. And there are rumors that you won medals and then threw them away.”
“Then they’ve already told you what’s worth knowing. The rest should stay forgotten.” He makes the assumption that you will bow down to the closure in his tone. It tugs on you to fall silent, to surrender to the easier way of life, but you ignore. You will not allow this to become an elephant in the room that never speaks.
“You talk in your sleep, Tommy. Do you know that? You murmur things. Sometimes you yell. You wake me up and scare the shit out of me. Sometimes your voice, how dark it gets, I think it would be enough to stir ghosts from their graves. Sometimes I can’t tell if I need to wake you, so I just listen,” You cross your arms and lean back, mirroring him. “Do you have any idea of the things you say?”
His features seem to harden, his skin turning to marble under the eye of some unforgiving sculptor. Pushing him doesn’t turn out well for most people. You’ve witnessed him snapping, or worse, retreating away to more comfortable territory. Trust may give you a better chance with him. He’ll give you leeway, more tolerance than he gives to anyone else, but you’re quite literally poking at the battlefield in his mind. Perhaps it has lain dormant for some time, but explosives still litter the bloodied ground. No safety can be promised once you set foot there. You can see the warning of fire beneath the ice your words have put on his veins, but he stays silent. Perhaps there is the same kind of dangerous curiosity in him as there is in you.
You speak your next words quietly. “On the worst nights, the ones that steal your breath, it starts with ‘Ready?’ That word is always clear. ‘Be careful, Danny.’ You say that louder. That’s usually when I start trying to wake you up. That’s when I can see you panicking. And then you start counting. It’s indistinct but... Like clockwork. Like you can hear whatever it is you’re counting down from. You don’t get to zero. After that- Well, after that something takes over you and I don’t know what it is, but everything you say is too twisted to make out.”
It feels like the temperature in the room has dropped considerably as you spoke. A chill runs up the backs of your arms and into your hands. You bury them into the thick fabric of your overcoat and listen to the quiet sound of the fire you lit when you first got home. It’s not for lack of heat that the cold has overtaken you.
A glassy film covers Tommy’s eyes for a moment, then fades away like melting ice. His jaw works and his gaze moves down to your buried hands. You tilt your head at him and wait for his consideration to end. You wondered before you spoke if he’d find a way to counter the blatant fact you placed at his feet. That’s his talent, after all; wriggling his way out of impossible situations with only his tongue as a weapon. But then he blinks and gives a subtle nod. It’s hard to argue with the blatant existence of long silenced demons.
After a few seconds he lays his final attempt to avoid the part of him you’ve invited out, his voice soft, pleading with the twinge in your heart only he can create. “There’s no pride for me, in reliving that. It brings me back, I get stuck in it, that slows me down. I have better ways to waste my time than talking to you about France.”
You take a deep breath to try and fill your lungs with air that now seems sharp as a knife around you. “But you’ll waste it? You’ll tell me?”
Tommy stands from the couch and runs his hand over the armrest while he walks. “I’ll tell you.”
He stops back at the table in the corner. He appears to waver while he moves, an almost undetectable hesitation in his step. A chill runs down your collar bone and disappears into your heart. That tiny quiver matched him to the feverish isolation of his house, and for that split second a part of you feared losing him to that empty void. He could choose to do so, to drift away from you and leave your question unanswered. He pours himself a copious amount of whiskey and allows some of it to spill onto the table, confirming to you that although he is many things, a coward is not one of them. He knows how to face seeming unthinkable situations, although not without help. The alcohol will loosen his tongue and take some meaning from the words. Some memories cannot be called upon while sober.
He makes his way back over and sits down next to you, instead of across from you. At this angle it will be harder for you to see him falter again. With his arms rested on his knees and hands clasped in the empty space between them you can only catch glimpses of his face. In this way he convinces himself he can hide from you, can conceal a deep breath or softening edge. For all you know, he may be right, but you doubt it.
The hand that holds his drink trembles and then stills before he brings it to his lips and takes a long swallow. The little energy he had when he first walked in has evaporated. What sits next to you is a living phantom with lids partially fallen over near-glowing eyes, half dead and numb to the world and half breathing, feeling matter.
“So,” He gestures vaguely with the hand holding the drink, the non-essential fingers unenthusiastically prodding the air. “What is it you want to hear?”
“What was it like underground?” Like a clean bullet to the head, the quicker you are the less pain it’ll cause.
“It was small. The cold bit our feet because shoes weren’t allowed and we couldn’t drain the water. The light came from candles that wouldn’t stay lit. Sometimes the air got thin. Sometimes the canaries and rats died before us,” Tommy puts his glass down on the table and brings his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “The quiet drove us crazy and the noise tried to kill us.”
“And the cave in? What happened there?”
“We could hear the Germans digging above us. They sent word to get underneath them and set up enough charge to stop them getting to our trenches. Maybe it was an accident or maybe they heard us. All I know is their mines went off before ours did. I felt it before I heard it and-” He pauses and clears his throat, then grabs his whiskey and downs the rest of it as an afterthought. When he next speaks the words come low and fast, a brook finally bursting through a dam. “Then the ground shook and fell to bury us in a grave we’d dug for ourselves. It scared me more to realize I was alive than thinking I was dead. I remember trying to get air, get some of the weight off me and thinking: Fuck. Alive. I have to keep going. I have to get out. Five of us found a space large enough to get some air. I never heard about the rest of them.”
No words offer themselves to you. All you can do is watch the little wrinkles form and disappear between his eyes as he fights with the recollection of horror. All you hear are his words and the pain and fear that makes them crack. It brings a burning sensation to your throat and eyes, yes, but only that. For Tommy, the world is crumbling. The unstable ground that had replaced his sky collapses it’s weight onto him once more and his fight to breathe is visible to you through the strangled remembrance. He closes his eyes and his jaw clenches and you recognize the gentle expression of grief. He doesn’t need words to tell you that the men he left behind to die had been revived and buried again while he spoke.
You find your voice again. “How did you get out? Weren’t you 20 metres underground?”
His eyes open slowly. His head hangs down, heavy with the mist of weighted memories and a soft kind of guilt that doesn’t punch but nudges constantly. A shadow of the people he knew lingers in his eyes and defies the human tendency to forget. Six years have passed since he came home from war, but these memories don’t age. The colorless hellscape that plays behind his blue irises are immutable, a wrathful god he pays homage to alone. He’s giving you what he can only so that you will never ask about this again, but there are some things that he must carry in a solitary struggle forever.
“We dug up for a day and a half till the fixed air took our consciousness. Even before then the five of us accepted we would never see the sun. Some men dug down and got three of us out. There was another still alive underneath. His legs had broken and tangled in the apparatus for clay kicking. One of my comrades stayed down with him. The roof collapsed. Their corpses will likely never be recovered.” He sounds tired. The words he speaks seem to barely leave his throat, as though the low growl of them remains confined to his vocal cords. Finality rings from his voice like an order, or perhaps a plea. He seems to beg you, in his own silent way, not to ask for more. You can only be so selfish, so brazen in how much you push him to fake steadiness. Any further now and his façade would melt fully away. Thomas Shelby came home from war to test how many times he could ignore the broken parts of him till they shattered, and this conversation has forced him to see the cracks.
He leans back against the couch and stares up at the chandelier. The reflection of the light seems dull in his eyes, a sedated version of the colored world he lives in. Never have you seen blue like his eyes, the ice in them somehow so dark that light cannot touch their edges.
One last question, and then you’ll leave him to dance with his ghosts in silence. “Did you know what it would be like when you chose to go?”
“I went because a man I beat half to death was after my blood and the girl I loved had died. I ran before I knew how to plan where I was going,” He takes a deep breath and his eyes flick over to you. “And now every night, I stitch up all my loose fucking ends so in the morning, the bullets and games of power and threats don’t rip me to shreds. It’s been years since I’ve set foot in a tunnel. The war is over. It’s done. It’s time everyone stop pretending like we’re still soldiers and leave this shit behind.”
“I don’t think it would make anything better to just pretend like it doesn’t still haunt you. It happened, there’s no leaving that behind. To me, the best thing to do is accept who the war made you and try to look back at who you were before. Just remember it. Try and recreate it.”
He gestures lethargically at the room you sit in, at the entire house full of empty space that begs to be filled with lives you do not own. “We’re past who I was before the war.”
A grave of hope sits rotting in his words. Once, years ago, that tomb may have been visited often, back when belief was still an easy thing to come by. Now the only life it sees is untruthful words spoken to briefly placate or incite the wills of others.
You lay back, entwine your arm with his to grab his hand and pull him closer to you, wanting your touch to serve as a reminder that he, at least, still lives in a world with some remnants of warmth. “You’re not past it, Tommy. How could you be? You never stopped being a soldier. And I don’t think you’ve really felt safe since.”
“I haven’t been.” His fingers tap a gentle rhythm on the back of your hand, a touch of affection amidst the heaviness of the atmosphere.
“No, I suppose not,” You shift a little to face him. “But maybe you’re getting there. Think about it; when you first came back, did you think you would ever be able to sit down and tell someone this?”
“No.” He says, and then leans his head on your shoulder to stare down at the table in front of you. You move back onto the couch and rest your head on top of his.
The silence becomes gentle. The chill you felt earlier has left you, chased away by the heat of his body. His breathing comes in unstable patterns. It slows and he relaxes slightly, and you can almost feel how rapidly he rethinks the torn pieces of himself he showed you. Then it speeds up again and his grip on your hand tightens, a small anchor to the light in his life. This is the result you expected, the one he warned you of; his usual ambition and drive stopped in it’s tracks by memories of unsteady earth breaking promises and bones. Thomas the unflappable, the nonchalant, the self-assured, has unraveled himself at your request. It might take him days to put himself back together.
At least an hour passes before he breaks the silence. His voice is missing all the usual confidence and quiet bravado. The edges melt into the air, unwilling to hold themselves together. It gives an impression of fragility you would never expect to hear in his words, not to you, not like this.
“The person I was before is gone and won’t come back. Not in this world. But you might be right,” He almost whispers it, the discomfort of vulnerability muting his words. “The war tears at me less with your hand on mine.”
my itty bitty taglist (I’m very flattered you like my writing): @captivatedbycillianmurphy
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A/N: This is completely unwarranted and unnecessary, but I was in a mood, so please enjoy some Javier softness.
Pairing: Javier x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: mild language
»»————- ♡ ————-««
Javier ran his hands over his tired face before letting out a long sigh. His whiskey glass had long been emptied, his pack of smokes long gone, and the letters and numbers on the pages in front of him swimming. It was late, far too late for him to still be sitting in his office, but here he was...once again. After rubbing the bleariness from his dry, tired eyes, he stared at the ceiling, mentally preparing to drag his tired body up from the chair and head home. At least he had you to come home to. It was something he’d never imagined, but in reality, there was nothing better than coming back after a long day and crawling into bed with you.
“Hello Handsome,” before he could get too lost in his fantasies of you, it was your very voice that pulled him back into reality. Quickly sitting up and straightened himself, a smile graced his features as he drank you in. You were dressed in pajamas - topped off with one of his old, threadbare sweaters. Perfect.
“Hi cariño,” his dark eyes seemed to grow lighter and they softened as you walked over and hopped onto the edge of his desk. Javier wasted no time in standing up and caging you in with his arms, his face near yours, lips brushing yours ever so lightly, “it’s late pretty girl, what are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you the same thing,” you closed the gap and offered him a gentle, slow kiss. Your hands went to his shoulders and slowly wrapped around his neck and held him close, causing him to practically melt into your touch and wrap his own arms around your waist, “it’s late and I was missing you. I thought you might need me to drag you home and it turned out I was right.”
“I was just-”
“Finishing up,” you finished his sentence, causing him to make a sound between a sigh and laugh, “I know how you are, Javi, and I know you’ve been working way too much. Come on - come home with me. Humor me for at least one night. I’ve got dinner and everything waiting for you.”
A few different looks crossed his features before eventually he swallowed the lump in his throat but gave you a nod. Pressing a kiss to his nose, you slid off the desk and took his hand in yours as you pulled towards the door. Javier hesitated for a moment, causing you to turn around with a worried expression on your face.
“Javier? Is everything alright?”
“I…” he paused for a moment, opening and closing mouths and looking utterly lost. Eventually he shook his head to himself, “i-it’s nothing. Let’s go home, cariño.”
“I love you, Javi,” you laced your fingers together before giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He squeezed back, a sign of reassurance that the two of you had developed.
“...love you too…”
»»————- ♡ ————-««
It was an early morning, but as luck would have it, you were already up and flitting about the apartment, cleaning up and organizing things in the midst of making breakfast. You were a creature of habit, and your job required you to be early, which you tended to do on weekends as well.
Doing your best to keep quiet and let Javier sleep in was a challenge, but normally you were a pro at it. Today however, it proved to be a herculean feat as everything seemed to slip from your hands or make a ton of extraneous noise.
After the tin of coffee slipped and fell to the hardwood floor, making the most racket you had ever heard, you were ready to give up.
"Fuck," you hissed under your breath as you hastily tried to clean up the mess of discarded grounds. It was an effort in vain as you panicked and tried to scoop them back up; a small, pathetic sound left your lips.
“Cariño,” his voice was thick and croaky with sleep as he looked at you. Despite your annoyance at your butter fingers and the mess and the noise, you couldn’t help but grin at the sight. He was only sporting his boxers, his dark locks were tousled, eyes still bleary with sleep, light, patchy scruff covering his face, “what’s going on, baby? Do you need a hand?”
“Oh, my love,” your face flushed as he rubbed the heel of his palms against his puffy eyes as he kneeled down to help you, “I-I am so sorry, Javi. I was just doing some cleaning and trying to make breakfast. I’m afraid I am making a mess of everything so far. I wanted to let you sleep in.”
“It’s okay,” he whispered softly, brushing a lot of hair out of your face, “it wasn’t you - I just don’t sleep as well without you anyway. Lemme help.”
“Javier,” you put your hand on his cheek and gently brushed your thumb across the soft, warm skin, “it’s your day off. Get back into bed and sleep a little longer. I’ll have breakfast and coffee soon.”
“What if I don’t want to?” keening into your touch, he turned to press a gentle kiss to your palm, “or you come back with me.”
“Don’t try to sweet talk me, Javi,” you beamed at him. With his help, you managed to finish cleaning up and set the can back on the counter. You reached out a hand to your lover and slowly hoisted him back to his feet, pulling him closer as the two of you studied each other, “back to bed, mister.”
“Nuh uh,” he insisted firmly, his large, warm hands finding your hips as he fluidly hoisted you on the counter and stood between your legs. Placing your hands on his freckled, tan skin, you leaned in and kissed along his shoulder. He must not have been expecting your action because he was barely able to choke back a moan, “baby…”
“You wanted to stay out here,” you grinned as you buried your face into his shoulder, nipping gently at his skin, “take what you can get, Javi.”
“I get way more than I deserve,” he promised as he pulled back and put a finger under chin, turning face up to meet his, “I mean it - you are way too good for me. I have no clue why you stay with me sometimes.”
“Shush,” you pressed a finger to his lips, shaking your head in the process, “I love you for you, Javier. You don’t have to see what I see - but please know that I love you more than you will ever know. You’re a good man, Javi, even if you don’t see it yet, but it’s true. If I have to, I will keep reminding you every single day just how much I love you.”
“I love you too,” he whispered as you slowly removed your finger but grabbed his face and nuzzled your nose against his, “I can’t wait until the day we get out of here and can go and make a home somewhere new - just us.”
“I can’t wait for that either,” you grinned, “it’ll be just us, maybe a dog - oh and a cat - and that’s it. It’ll be good enough for me. I just want you there.”
Before Javi could say anything else, the oven dinged in a shrill, high pitched sound, signaling that your muffins were finished baking.
“Oh!” you pressed a kiss to his cheek before delicately nudging him out of your way and reaching for the oven mitts, “I made your favorite! Lemon-blueberry with poppy seeds. I picked up some fresh fruit at the market yesterday.”
“Y-you made them for me?” he watched you with wide eyes as you turned and gave him an of course type expression, “you didn’t...have to.”
“I wanted to,” you insisted softly, “for your day off. It was supposed to be a surprise, but obviously I ruined that! Now - get back to bed and rest and I’ll finish all of this.”
“Nope,” he insisted as crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m helping you finish, and then we’ll get back into bed together. Si?”
»»————- ♡ ————-««
"Stop!" you chased after the small, wiry little dog with ears much too big as he decided it was play time in the garden. You'd just set all the new flowers and bulbs that you were planning on planting that day but Stevie decided that he had other plans.
He paused momentarily and looked back at you, tail wagging madly as he barked and stole one of the bulbs before running again.
"Stevie! You're cheating! You've got four legs and I need to plant that!" you huffed lightly as you tried to slow him down to no avail. Unfortunately, you'd completely forgotten about all the holes you’d already dug to plant your new arrivals...and promptly proceeded to trip and fall. At this you didn’t fall onto the desk, but tumbled into the soft soil, landing with a small oof.
The bulb dropped from Stevie’s mouth as he frantically ran over to you, trying to make sure you were okay. You wanted to be annoyed, but couldn’t find it in your heart to be so, instead falling into a fit of giggles at your own misfortune and the soft, wet nosed kisses that were being pressed all over your face.
“Now you’re playing dirty on top of it,” you laughed at the little dog as you managed to get back up on your feet. Scooping up the forgotten bulb you showed it to him before bringing your arm back and throwing it across the across. He yipped excitedly before running after it as you shook your head in amusement before trying to brush off some of the direct that was all over your clothes.
“What the hell happened?” you turned and found Javier opened the sliding glass door to the backyard, an expression of confusion and amusement clouded his features as he pulled off his aviators, “are you okay?”
“Hi honey!” you gave him a sheepish wave, “I’m okay - we’re both okay - just ummm...playing?”
“In the dirt?”
“Uh huh honey,” he mused as he set his sunglasses on the table and walked over to you. When he spied the gardening supplies he quickly put two and two together, “Let me guess - playing involved him stealing something and you...tripping?”
“Perhaps,” you grinned as Javier reached over and tenderly brushed some of the dirt that was smudged across your face away, “you’re home early? What happened?”
“Such a nice day,” he mused with a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders, “decided to take advantage of it and left the office early. I thought maybe we could barbecue or something tonight, spend some time in the sun.”
“Oh Javi, that sounds wonderful!” you couldn’t help but throw your arms around him and pull him close. It wasn’t until afterwards that you realized you’d probably gotten him as dirty as you were, “oh no. I’m sorry...I think I just ruined your shirt…”
“You really think I care about that?”
“No,” you agreed with a grin, “but that one’s my favorite on you - tight in all right places. It’d be a shame to see it ruined. Perhaps you should take it off…”
“Aye, cálmate,” he shook his head in amusement as you pouted your lips at him, “how about I go and change into something more comfortable, I’ll start the grill and we can finish planting your new flowers?”
“Fine,” you pouted, causing him to press a kiss to your lips, “I’m glad you’re home, Javi. I’ve missed you. Is it bad to say that life in the suburbs is almost too quiet?”
“Are you telling me that you prefer the craziness and danger of Colombia?” he quirked a brow in amusement as you vehemently shook your head.
“Definitely not,” you insisted, “I like this - boring quiet life. It’s just different, and I’m sure we’ll get used to it. I like coming home every evening and having you there, and knowing that you’re working across the city, safe and sound. But promise me one thing?”
“Anything,” he put his hand on your cheek before pressing a kiss to your temple.
“We won’t become boring old people that never do anything that end up hating each other…”
“That will never happen,” he laughed, “not with you - with us. That much you’ll never have to worry about, pretty girl.”
“Good,” you grinned, “now get changed and help me with the manual labor! You may be retired from the DEA, but you’re not retired from husband duties-”
You froze in panic as soon as the word left your lips. You had meant to use that word, not really anyway. While it may have been what Javier was to you, and in turn you to him, but you never officially crossed that bridge. It was something that had been on your mind, especially after settling down in your quaint Texas neighborhood, but you’d never brought it up much. Neither of you needed a piece of paper to tell you that you were husband and wife...but in some ways you wouldn’t have minded it…
“Javi, I didn’t mean it...like that...just a turn of phrase,” your face felt warm under his curious gaze but he remained silent for a long moment before nodding slowly, “it’s...you know I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. A piece of paper doesn’t change anything. It’s you - it’s always been you.”
“I know baby,” he promised, his soft smile appearing back on his face as you relaxed. The last thing you ever wanted was for him to feel pressured in asking you to marry him. Even if it never happened, it would be okay; Javier wasn’t going anywhere and neither were you, “I love you. Let me get changed and I’ll be back.”
“I love you too, Javi.”
»»————- ♡ ————-««
“Luna!” you ran across the kitchen, attempting to stop her from running away with the kitchen scissors in her chubby little first, “no, no, no! Come on, baby! Stop for Mama!”
She squealed in delight as she toddled away from you, her dark curls bobbing wildly Luckily, she’d only really mastered the art of walking, and barely running, somewhat recently and it wasn’t hard to catch up to her. An arm went around her waist as you swooped her up and quickly snatched the scissors out of her gasp and set them on the table. You’d actually knocked them off the counter and she was quick as lightning when it had come to picking them up.
“You silly little thing,” you breathed a sigh of relief as you held the toddler tightly against your chest, but not before smothering her in little kisses. She giggled happily before babbling at you and attempting to put her little arms around your neck, “you just have to keep me on my toes, huh? Just like your Papa!”
At the mention of Javier, her eyes lit up and she grinned, showing off her little grin and the singular dimple she had definitely inherited from her father. Ruffling her curls, you pressed a kiss to the top of her head before you dragged her high chair into the kitchen and set her down in it. She loved being around the two of you, even if it was one at a time, and was an observant, curious toddler that loved watching whatever was going on.
“Alright, little Miss Luna,” you turned back and gestured to everything on the counter, ”tonight we’re going to make my favorite dessert, but your Papa’s favorite meal. I called your grandpapa and he walked me through each step so I can make it perfectly. You grandmama used to make it for him all the time when he was a kid. I figure we can make it for time as a surprise!”
You threw your arms wide open in excitement as she giggled and clapped her little hands, “and I expect all of your help - my expert sous chef!”
Almost as if she understood, she appeared to nod as you grabbed a cutting board and knife, along with some of the vegetables. You took your time, making sure everything was uniformly and evenly sliced, explaining it all to her, in between telling her some stories about Javier. The appropriate for an almost 18 month old versions, of course.
“You know,” you dumped the sliced vegetables into the big pot, “sometimes we didn’t always get along when we first met. He was stubborn and hardheaded...just like now, but I knew I loved him from the start. We met at work you know, in Colombia. I worked at the embassy building and he worked for the DEA…it was...well, I’ll tell you the nitty gritty when you’re older. But just know that we went through a lot, and we didn’t always get along, but I always loved him. And I like to flatter myself and think he always loved me too.”
“He did,” the sound of Javier’s voice caused you to jump and almost drop the wooden spoon in your hand as you turned around and found him walking into the kitchen. As soon as Luna spotted him, she made grabby arms for him all while excitedly calling out papa!
“I didn’t even hear you come in, nosy!” you playfully chided him as he leaned over to press a gentle, saccharine kiss to your lips, “how long have you been home, honey?”
“Just long enough,” he grinned, “long enough to watch this little brat decide she wanted to start a life of crime! I thought you were supposed to be sweet, Princesa!”
He held her up in the air as she laughed before giving her cheeks a couple of big kisses, “she takes after her father!”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he snorted in amusement as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in for an embrace. He stilled for a moment and you listened to the steady beat of his heart as held the two of you, “my favorite girls.”
“Marry me?” he asked after a beat of contemplative silence. You were so surprised, you pulled back and looked into his eyes, brows knitting together in confusion as you were sure you hadn’t heard him correctly. He laughed as if he could read your thoughts before pressing his forehead against yours, “I mean it, baby. Will you marry me? Finally?”
“Yes,” it was said without hesitation, without a moment of doubt, “of course. Of course I’ll marry you, Javi.”
“Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to ask?” he said, almost nervous as you softened under his gaze, “how many times I almost did? How long I’ve had that ring hidden away?”
“Yeah,” he laughed at your expression, “so many times, baby. I just...I didn’t want to ruin what we had...what if you had said no?”
“I never would have.”
“I know, I guess I always knew…”
“It just felt like the perfect time. I couldn’t have asked for more...and I just wanted to. I love you, and Luna, more than you will ever know…”
“We love you too, Javier. More than you will ever know.”
»»————- ♡ ————-««
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If you're up for it, would you be willing to write vampire Aang x vampire hunter Azula or a roommates au?
aye, aye, anon. everybody shut up I'm in my azulaang feels now. I've never really written either of these characters before so I hope I did them justice! feel free to tell me what you think, good or bad.
"For the last time, there’s nothing I can do,” Zuko grumbled, folding a shirt and throwing it on top of the pile on his bedspread. Azula sniffed at it like her brother’s untidiness was the most offensive thing in the world. “It’s just how it worked out, okay?”
“No, it’s actually not okay,” she snapped. “How on Earth did I end up with some fresh-out-of-high-school boy as my roommate? Are you insane?”
“If you don’t shut up, I might be headed in that direction. Look, it’s not like you have to spend every second of every day with him. You just have to sleep in the same room as him.”
“Oh, and it sounds so much better when you put it like that!” She began pacing around Zuko’s room, which was cluttered with books and clothes as he unpacked his entire life into the small, seven-by-ten-foot room he got all to himself for the next nine months. What she wouldn’t give to be a senior like him. Instead, she was a sullen sophomore with a young brat for a roommate, thanks to her brother’s antics.
“If you keep putting it off, he’ll think you’re rude,” Zuko muttered.
“Like I care what he thinks of me. I want him out.”
“Sorry, sis, looks like you’re out of luck. And you’re also out of my room.” He placed his hands firmly against her back and pushed her through the open door bearing big, black letters that displayed his name. He promptly shut the door in her face.
“Let me in!” she shouted, pounding on the door. “Zuzu! You get back out here and fix this mess you put me in!”
The door remained shut despite her attempts to pry it open. To make matters worse, she could hear Zuko humming thoughtfully to himself in his room like he hadn’t a care in the world.
“UGH. You’re impossible!” she told the door. “I’ll just go and fix it myself.”
Neither the door nor Zuko protested as she stalked out of the senior hall of their small college. The campus wasn’t large, just a base lawn filled with students and trees with the municipal building in the center. She threw open the door and stomped up to the front desk.
“Who’s in charge of dorm arrangements around here?” she asked the secretary, who trembled as she set her pen down. Azula rolled her eyes. People were so wimpy around her, it was pathetic, She supposed that’s what she got for having a ruthless businessman for a father and having the reputation that she did.
“Is there a question you have regarding your roommate, miss?” the secretary mumbled.
“Question? No. Order. My idiot brother made arrangements for me without me knowing it, and now I’m to board with some nineteen-year-old boy. I demand a change at once.”
“I see.” The woman looked doubtful, but she searched her up in her computer. After scanning a few pages, she brightened. “Here we go. Looks like you are indeed supposed to room with a young man named Aang. He just arrived a few minutes ago, actually. Should be up in your dorm.”
Some of her nervousness crept back into the woman’s tone when she spoke. “I, ah, said that your roommate has arrived, He’s up in your dorm.” She handed her a key. “Room 107.”
"Tell me, are you deaf?"
The woman looked startled. "I beg your pardon?"
"It appears so, yes. I told you to change my assignment, not to give me keys to the room."
"Right, right. Um." There was a pause filled only with the sound of the secretary's nails clicking across the keypad, and Azula impatiently tapping her foot against the ground. Finally she glanced up.
"I'm sorry, but your dorm assignments are final. He gave a last-minute receipt and there was no one else to put him with."
Azula tightened her face. "What?" she said, punctuating syllables that weren't even there.
"Uh, I said that your roommate is final. I'm sorry, miss."
"Oh, my God," she hissed, pushing against the desk as hard as she can. "Are you kidding me? You've got to be kidding me."
"I, ah -" the woman coughed. "I'm afraid not. If you'll just take your keys and go up, I'm sure he'll be happy to meet you." She didn't say get out, but it was sort of implied. If there was one thing Azula knew, it was how to take a hint. She was good at giving them, too.
"Fine," she muttered. She let out a strangled choking noise and turned on her heel, walking out of the building with her head held high. "Fine!"
As she stalked through the campus, her annoyance grew. She pictured a small boy, withering under her hateful stare. Perhaps he wouldn't like her and would request a room change. Maybe they would grant him one, for whatever reason, though she highly doubted it. Why would he get it if she, Azula, could not?
She reached the hall where Room 107 was in a few minutes and stared up at it with distaste. A figure in one of the windows fluttered past. Was that him? He was in there right now. Was that his room? Their room? She shuddered at the thought, but shoved the doors open and began the climb up the stairs. Too soon she was facing a plain white door with the number 107 painted on it in bright blue lettering.
"You go in there and put him in his place," she told herself. She nodded once, firm and strong, and raised her hand to the knob. Before she could even touch it, though, it swung open, blasting her face with wind.
"Oh, good!" a voice said, bubbling our front the inside of the room. "You must be Azula!"
She was stunned momentarily. There was indeed a boy inside of her - their - room, but he was not at all what she was expecting. The mop of dark hair in her mental image had been replaced with baldness, but it wasn't necessarily a bad look. His skin was pale and his eyes were grey. Not stormy grey, like a warning for sailors, but bright grey. The kind of grey that came with a sunny day. He was wearing a yellow hoodie with a blue arrow down the front, tan sweatpants, and a blinding grin that nearly broke his face. He genuinely looked happy to see her, and that startled her for a few seconds. She shook her head, regaining her composure.
"Yes, that's me," she said, straightening up. "Now, listen here, boy, I-"
"You want left or right?" he interrupted, gesturing behind him to the symmetrical room they would share. Each side contained a bed, desk, chair, and dresser, and a bathroom joined them in the middle. "I don't care which one I get."
"Oh, and I decided to let you use the shower first!" He clapped excitedly as he delivered this information. "That way you get all the hot water and first dibs on towels and stuff. You can use it first whenever, too. I figured it could sort of make up for me jumping in on you like this." He smiled apologetically. "Sorry about that, but they didn't have anywhere else to put me. They showed me a picture of you, though, before I came, and you just looked so nice I thought it wouldn't be a big deal."
She blinked, still processing the first thing he said. "Right. Um, anyway." Her mission came back to her and she stood her ground, though it wasn't as firm as it had been before. "I see that you've already settled in a bit."
He beamed. "Yep! I could help you unpack your stuff, if you want! I'm pretty good at organizing."
A quick sweep of the few posters lining the room and the rugs that lay casually every few feet deemed his statement accurate. She opened her mouth to say that no, she wanted him out of here before she even had time to blink, but somehow the words got lost on the way to her mouth and what tumbled out was, "Okay."
"Yay!" he exclaimed. "This'll be fun! Okay, so which bag do you want to do first? The college people stacked all your suitcases and things over there." He pointed and she followed his arm to see that yes, they had.
"Um." She stared at him, into his bright grey eyes, and suddenly her request to change rooms didn't seem so important. "The - the red one. I'll handle it, and you get the black one."
"Okay, whatever works!" he said happily, and stepped aside so that she could reach her bag. Carefully, keeping her eyes off of him, she grabbed the first suitcase she saw and turned away quickly. He had already retrieved the black bag and set it on top of the right bed.
"Is here okay?" he asked, his face lit up. It was clear he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
"Yes," she said, plopping her suitcase down beside it. Her eyes met his, and an understanding passed between them. She wasn't sure what, exactly, but it made her hands reach put and grab the black bag. "I'll unpack, and you bring me the bags."
"Okay." He wandered over to the pile. She watched him go, his back to her, and felt her lips curving up before she could stop them. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
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can you do yao having a one night stand with his childhood best friend please?
the homecoming and the seamstress - [china x reader] – lemon
Yao was one of the few in his line of work to retire to the country when he wasn’t needed by his boss.
It was quiet out there and away from the smog and bustle of the city, tucked tenderly in between where craggy mountains broke up the terrain, the air smelled of wind and rain and was always fresh on his face.
He loved the simplicity of working with his hands, the way the earth gave back exactly what he put in – simple. Fair.
Some days, it was enough to make him feel almost-human.
Most importantly of the countryside, however, was that it brought him closer to her.
He technically had no family here; depending on which of his colleagues one asked, they’d argue that those like them had no family to begin with. Still, if there was anyone he could consider as such, it would have to be her.
One of the only other families that lived in the small, rural village, Yao had known her father for many years – since he was a boy. However, her father had only known him back in the past few or so. His daughter, likewise, was someone Yao had known for many, many years. He’d watched her go from a little girl to a young woman, so many times, always in the same enriching progression, like watching his favorite flowers grow and bloom in the spring, time and time again.
A part of Yao found it odd that such resemblance of an old friend could be found so consistently. Yao knew of some colleagues that had met old lovers once, maybe twice more, and centuries apart. Yao ran into her again at least once every one hundred years. It was his most precious secret and most fragile happiness.
She was a seamstress – a fact that never surprised and yet always fascinated Yao, no matter how many times he saw her find her calling.
Many of whom could be considered greater an expert than he said his best days were long behind him. Yao knew while logically, such ‘experts’ must be correct, he just simply couldn’t believe them. Not when he lived right down the road from her now, and certainly not when she frequently found herself picking her way up the winding path to borrow or lend or have a cup of tea and chat. Sometimes they liked to pick flowers or take walks. During the quieter moments, the mountain air provided clarity, and Yao could see things so plainly, that he wondered it possible at all if she could not see them too.
He’d known of his feelings for her for a very long time now.
He suspected of her feelings for him; it was the same heart – he felt this unflinchingly – but it was not the same mind or experiences or circumstances for her. He could not expect her to fall back in love with him every single time, and indeed, she did not.
He was always close, though; a friend, a mentor, an advisor – her closest confidant. The keeper of her secrets, and though not always known to her, the fiercest protector of her heart.
He’d given her away at a wedding once, in a life when her father had died young. She had made for a very beautiful bride, and yet after that, Yao hoped sincerely to never see her in a wedding dress again.
This is what he was mulling over, his fingers folded around his mug as steam curled up and off the surface of his tea, a white wisp, delicate like the veil falling over her face when there was a knock at the door.
Yao looked up, the sound almost startling him in the sea of quiet, until he saw that it was she that peered in through the window.
He scrambled to his feet in his haste to get the door open and let her in. She was already smiling before the first ‘hello’ left his mouth.
“You’re here,” she looked up at him, her entire face lighting up the overcast day. “I’m glad.”
While Yao had been here for a few days, he hadn’t quite gotten around to making his reappearance known hereabouts. Still, Yao’s stomach did a little somersault.
“I am – why, did you need something?”
“Why do you only assume I come to visit you when I need something?”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, peering down at the woman on his front step. Her voice was teasing. Quite honestly, he liked knowing there was something he could do for her – as if it even began to repay her just for existing as she did, through all his years.
Yao watched as she rolled onto the balls of her feet and looked over his shoulder into the quaint kitchen she knew so well.
“But since you’ve asked and I smell tea…”
He stepped aside to let her in; that was all the invitation she needed. In this life especially, they were close. Familiar. Yao had ached for this kind of ease with her for so long, he almost felt guilty when he dared to wonder about more.
He watched her as she came in, the deep purple of her skirt swishing around her calves. The splash of color looked right at home in the pale wash of his house, like the subject of a painting. Yao knew he, for one, couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
Yao went to the stove to get the teapot; he always had water at a near-boil. He drank a lot of tea, mainly in the mornings when he waited to see what the day would glean for him but occasionally on slow, sleepy thoughtful afternoons, shuffling in at the end of the day, late and all the better for it.
He poured her a cup and brought it to the table. She accepted the cup delicately and with two hands like he really was gifting her with something valuable.
Yao watched with a displaced reverence as her mouth met the lip of the cup, and she sipped, suddenly feeling his actual age as he noted the fine, smooth expanse of her cheeks.
“You’re right,” she said when she set the cup down. “There is something I need from you.”
“And what might that be?”
Her mouth split into another wide grin.
“Your company. I’ve been terribly bored by today, and I missed you. You go away to the capital for so long when you have to work.”
It was difficult to tamp down the vicious excitement he felt at her words; in his struggle to do so, it drove a rich blush up from his chest, creeping up his neck, to his face.
“I see,” he said, cocking an eyebrow, his voice still miraculously steady. “I’d love to.” He paused. I missed you too. I miss you every day. “Of course, I need to tend to some things around the property, seeing as I just got back.”
Yao, who was feeling a little worried at the prospects of boring her out of his home at the mention of chores, was stricken by her response.
“Great! I’ll lend you a hand.”
He knew it was foolish to look a gift horse in the mouth, but again, his gaze slipped down her legs, eyeing her thin canvas shoes and the hem of her skirt doubtfully. Little, brown flecks of mud dotted her skin from the walk here. It was the rainy season. The grasslands were marshy; walking around here was like walking on a sponge, the earth sucking in your feet like it was determined to reclaim you for its watery depths.
“I’m sure; who do you think kept an eye on the place while you were busy being important in Beijing?”
At this, Yao flushed a little bit. He disliked when his life away ran the risk of touching the life he had here, as though it might poison it.
“Ah, alright, then. When you’re finished, we can go.”
She got to her feet immediately, her cup of tea all but forgotten.
“If you’re just waiting on me, then we can go. The sun will be going down soon – we really ought to finish up.”
Yao wanted to usher her to sit down so she could finish.
He didn’t mind waiting, and besides, more than anything, he hated feeling like he was running out of time.
In contrast, she seemed like she was eager to make up for lost time. She was at the door before Yao was, and as they started on the path, she seemed keen to chat and catch up.
“When are you going to get more cattle? It’s sad to see your property so empty.”
Yao opened his mouth to answer, but she never broke to let him respond.
“How long are you staying this time? I don’t mind looking after things and stuff, but it’s so much more fun to look and know I’ll be seeing you here.” She sidled up against him; Yao had kept to the side of the path, hoping to keep her in the middle, where the ground was high and driest. Her foot sank into sandy, mushy silt that coated her shoes in a muddy ochre color. She didn’t seem to notice; Yao was surprised he could with her soft warmth lingering at his arm.
“I missed you,” she said, keeping her eyes on the path in front of her. “You were gone too long.”
Yao understood the sentiment well.
“I feel the same. I hope to stay here for as long as I can, and should I have to go again, I’ll try to hurry back.” He always did.
They arrived at the barn on his property; a wooden structure with the paint chipped and metalware rusted, but all the same; it stood, loyally waiting for Yao’s return. She went to grab onto the handles and drag the heavy doors open, but Yao waved her away so he could do it himself.
The gesture felt too rooted in silly notions of chivalry and such ridiculous social norms that would’ve hinted too strongly at the fact that Yao had thought of her more as a woman than as a dear friend who’d been looking after his property. She’d opened these doors more frequently than he had probably.
He tried to disguise this, his eyes once again slipping over her lower legs, where the mud spatter had intensified on their walk over.
“Aiyah, you’re dirty enough right now. Just stand there, and I’ll get it.”
She crossed her arms and stood out of the way, watching him, but said nothing. Her smile was lopsided now as if she saw right through him but humored him still like she might a small child.
The doors swung open, and a wall of that earthy scent hit them.
Yao stepped in, bypassing the lantern, and she followed.
The sun, while riding low in the sky, wasn’t entirely down yet.
Yao looked around, surveying the empty stalls; there were about twenty-six; he hoped to fill all of them while here. That would mean setting down roots.
He ran his hands over the short wooden fences splitting the stalls. He felt a prick as his touch greeted the splintered wood, and when he closed his fist over it and gave it a hard shake, the wood bent and wobbled, yielding too readily under his touch.
First things first, he’d have to replace them. He could do it himself easily enough, but he ought to ensure that the stalls were sturdy enough for the stocky animals he’d be keeping in them. He picked his hand up to inspect his palm where he’d felt the prick; it was dark enough that he couldn’t make out the tiny, brown barb embedded in his skin.
He chose to ignore it for now; his body would expel it in due time.
His companion, meanwhile, had seemingly melted out of sight.
Yao looked around, trying to find her face or the swish of a purple skirt in the long shadows encroaching on the barn. He found none. Had she gotten bored and gone home?
Just as his stomach was starting to turn at the idea, he heard her voice, far above him.
“Come up here with me and look!”
Yao looked up and could barely make out her form on the platform above, at the barn’s loft level. He found the ladder leading up to join her and saw what she meant.
A part of the roof was missing here. The jagged ends of the wood looked like broken teeth as her hands curled lightly around them, securing a hold for her as she peered out into the countryside spilled before them.
Yao eyed the wood skeptically; if she wasn’t careful, she’d get splinters too. He wanted to warn her, but he couldn’t bring himself to when she was peering out at the view, her eyes reflecting the low glow of twilight.
“Fixing this should be first on my to-do list.”
She never looked at him as she answered.
“Ah, really? Isn’t it beautiful, though? I’ll bet at night, you can see the stars like this.”
A heavy pinkish-red dribbled in the sky from where the sun had started to drown in the horizon. A slat of the same orange painted her face like she was made of bronze and gold. The rest of her was muted in a soft lavender from the shadows, almost the same shade as her skirt.
“I suppose you have a point there,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
They stood there for a few moments, quiet. Thinking, seeing, listening. As she’d predicted, the first of the evening’s stars had started to appear, in shy pinpricks, faint, like scars the sky bore from long ago.
The Golden Hour was coming to an end. The Golden Ages were long gone – or so he’d been told of himself. Still, standing right here with her, Yao had never felt more exhilarated at the prospects of living. Not since they’d first met anyway. If one could preserve feelings like relics and immortalize loves like they did legends, it’d be this one, here and now, that Yao would choose to withstand the ages.
He didn’t feel like himself just then, not like China, nor Mr. Wang, the distrusted advisor to the president. Here, he just felt like Yao. Here, he was just a man, standing next to a woman with the privilege of giving her the sunset and the stars on such an evening.
The quiet was starting to grow comfortable on his skin, like a warm blanket.
Yao hazarded a look at her, only to find that she was already watching him. His chest felt heavy. Full.
Like a bucket full of water, the glassy surface trembling at its own weight, like another drop more might make all he felt spill out.
When she turned towards him, it was like another drop going into the bucket. Yao could only watch, wide-eyed and mute as she reached for him, fingers straightening the wrinkled collar of his shirt tenderly.
She said nothing; the only sound to be heard was of her skin against the worn, frayed fabric.
When their eyes met again, it was with an understanding softness. Now, Yao’s expression was as certain as hers was, both of them seeing this tenderness, feeling the shape of this moment, and how it was just big enough to fit a kiss into.
Before this, in this life, Yao could never have imagined having the courage to reach up and take her face in his hands like this.
To sweep his thumbs lightly across her cheekbones. To take her lips the way he did.
Hers parted, ready to accept him moments before he’d finished closing the distance between their mouths.
He brushed his lips against hers gently, and then her hands were coming up to his chest to push him lightly away. Yao’s stomach flipped – had he misread things between them?
She let out a soft laugh, not at all looking like someone who’d been unwillingly kissed.
“I’m sorry – it’s just funny,” she said, a flush riding high at her cheeks. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
God, he wanted to say. You have no idea.
When the nervous, little admission had evaporated between them, Yao moved in to kiss her again.
One of his hands dropped from her face to catch at the small of her back; a firm, guiding grasp. He wanted her to feel safe. He needed to gather her into his chest and keep her safe forever. It was an ambitious sentiment for a kiss, even perhaps the single most incredible kiss of his life.
Every first kiss he had with her was exquisite, though, so perhaps he was biased.
Yao tilted his head; he could feel her breath panting softly into his mouth as he parted his lips, spreading her open for him. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, wanting to test her reaction to feeling him more intimately.
A soft sound of contentment buzzed between them, and then the hand at her back was fumbling with empty space as she pressed herself tighter to him. He could feel her soft breasts against his chest through the fabric of her dress.
At the realization of this, he could feel a stirring want between his legs. A voice at the back of his head warned him not to get too worked up; this was just a kiss – but God, once he was tuned in to the soft suppleness of her, it was almost all he felt.
He slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her; the sweetness lingering in his mouth was the same lingering in hers from the tea.
“Yao,” she breathed, and the sound sent his heart into a frenzied scrabble in his chest.
He itched, needing to be closer to her, needing to feel her as closely as possible. He hadn’t touched her like this in so long. He felt like he wanted it more than ever before.
“I want you.” He broke the kiss to say this. “I want you so much.”
She let him kiss her with a sense of urgency, yielding to the tender touch and mold of his mouth.
“I want you too.”
One of her hands dropped from his chest, down to his belt, and then even further. Yao stiffened as her hand grazed against the growing bulge in his trousers, as shocked by the presence of it as he was by her forward touch.
This shock intensified as she sank to her knees, the wood creaking under her shift in weight. Her face was inches from his crotch, which suddenly seemed a lot bigger now that it was subjected to her scrutiny.
Her lips curved up into a mischievous grin.
“My, my, my, where did this come from?”
Yao felt heat suffuse his face – God, he was blushing.
Wait, he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. His throat was bone dry.
Her fingers were already undoing his belt and the button at his trousers. He felt the garment loosen around him, and then her fingers were latching onto it and dragging them down over his hips, taking his briefs with him.
His cock sprang free, and his legs almost gave out under him when the tip tapped once against her nose, then again at her cheek with how close she was to it.
He couldn’t remember the last time she’d used her mouth on him like this, and what a strange thought that was, he realized, as she took him between her lips and sealed them around him.
The blush at his face still hadn’t left; in fact, it seemed to grow, moving to his throat and to his chest.
Below him, her eyes were shining in the dark, her face wholly bathed in dusk. She was his soulmate, his best friend.
He knew this above anything else, to be true in the centuries and longer he’d been alive. It was always her – had always been her, or maybe not her, depending on who you asked, technically. Was every person just their grandmother, or great-grandmother, or distant ancestor? Thankfully, this was not the case, although he couldn’t deny that the familiarity with which he always found in her, no matter the year, seemed to be the universe’s way of telling him that it was her again, in the most honest sense.
It was always that same face, and while not the same name, it never strayed far from the root which had become immortalized as a sort of binding spell on himself.
He also noticed she was always someone somewhat provincial.
She hallowed her cheeks and bobbed, the wet, tightness of her mouth singing fierce desire up through him like he was drowning from the inside out. His hips moved, twitching towards her as if of their own accord.
The humans he’d come to know had always joked about being ‘reborn’ as royalty or a house cat, or any number of silly things. In Yao’s experience, though, those ‘reborn’ or, as he preferred to think about it, copied across several lifetimes, more or less stayed in their’ roles.’
The universe, he felt, liked its carefully spun patterns, and as such, seldom deviated from them.
The first time he’d met her, for example, they were young children. They used to play along the river, chasing butterflies and chickens, or whatever came around. The spring was warm and fragrant, pregnant with the possibilities for a fruitful year.
That was the one, and only time he’d gotten to grow up alongside her – alongside anyone really. As China’s success and power unfurled like one great, pre-written scroll, they too unfurled according to the designs the universe had placed on them.
She had grown up to work as a weaver in the village they’d loved so dearly. Yao had been ushered away to the palace, swept up in the whirlwind of newfound responsibilities, and tasked with getting an education.
It was funny, he thought – now, she was a seamstress.
She was still sucking him off, her tongue grinding up against the bottom of his cock. She was skilled at this; far more than Yao cared to wonder about right then. All the same, when he found that uneasy, little tremor in the pit of his stomach, that foreshadowing of his body letting go, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently but firmly eased her off of him.
She seemed surprised and maybe a little hurt. Yao didn’t want to finish without tending to her properly.
“What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?”
The way those eyes shone softly up at him made his chest ache.
He stroked lightly at her cheek.
“Not at all. If anything, you’re too good at that. I can’t have you ending things early.”
“Oh.” She sat for a few moments. “You were quiet,” she said, then. “I was afraid you’d gotten…bored. What were you thinking of?”
Both hands were at her face then, tucking her tenderly against his palms, admiring her with the gentle pads of his fingers. Bored? With her?
She was all he ever waited for.
“I was thinking about my childhood – if that’s not too odd. Of playing by the river.”
Yao tried to say this as offhandedly as he could. What a hideous thing for a normal person to think of during sex.
She seemed unfazed, though.
“I understand that.”
Yao’s heart thudded like the little acknowledgment had been the key he’d been waiting for his entire existence. Could humans remember other lifetimes? Was she right now?
Then she was shaking her head a little bit, releasing both of them from that strange, little spell.
“I mean, I don’t know why I said that – I grew up here, a long way from the river. But…the peace, I suppose, I mean,” her brow furrowed intently as if she struggled to understand the inner-workings of what she’d meant too. “I guess I mean I can relate to the safety and familiarity of being with you, so I can see why you thought of that.”
Yao’s heart was still singing; the soul remembered what the mind could not. He could see that in her now.
He was luckier this time around in that she lived, what the country would consider, “right next to him.” He was luckier yet that her lips had just been around his cock and that she’d been willing to finish him; now, he was going to make love to her.
Rather than bring her up from her knees, Yao sank down to his own, his fingers pressing tenderly at her jaw and by her ear as he brought her in for another kiss. She seemed to move with a bit of hesitance this time, wondering about the logistics regarding his taste and mouth.
Yao loved it, like an invisible mark he made on her to signal she was his.
It had been too long since the last time he’d tasted himself on her, and at this realization, a slight pang of guilt struck in his chest.
It would be her first time making love to him, but not the first time he made love to her.
His grip on her softened, his lips slowed; he should take his time with her to make sure she didn’t miss a single thing.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, sliding the tie that held it back into an easy ponytail out until it fell around them like a dark curtain. Yao’s mouth strayed from her lips, peppering light kisses along the ridge of her jaw.
“Mm,” she sighed, her fingers stroking carefully through the locks. “You’re so handsome. Have I ever told you that?”
That was a complicated question.
All the same, Yao made an appreciative sound at the back of his throat as he continued to trail down, sampling the sensitive skin at her neck and relishing the slight tremor that shook her body as he did so.
Her fingers tensed, clutching him tighter. Yao felt his cock twitch. He viciously loved the feeling of her clinging to him.
His lips found the sinewy edge of her collarbone. He nipped lightly at it, knowing the sensitive press of bone beneath skin would evoke a lovely response from her; her chest rose as a sudden gust of breath filled it.
Yao held her tighter to him as if to reassure her she could fall hard into her pleasure because he would be there to see her through it. His nose burrowed into the slip of skin nestled between the collar of her shirt, and that heaving, gasping breath continued.
She seemed to grow still in his arms, stunned by the sudden intimacy they’d achieved and how desperately she wanted to accept him fully.
Her breasts looked soft, even in her dress, where the curves pulled lightly at the fabric as if begging him to bare them to him.
Yao didn’t undress her yet, though – not entirely, at least.
His fingers worked methodically at the buttons of her blouse, slowly undoing just the first few, widening the small glimpse of her skin he’d seen before. When the tops of her breasts became visible, he stopped and leaned towards her so that his cheek was pressed firmly against the soft slope of her cleavage.
Her skin was warm, and feeling the gentle lull of her breath as he listened to her heartbeat felt like they were crossing into more intimate territory than when his cock had been in her mouth. It was like waiting at the door for his lover to come by.
Knock, knock, knock, went her heart.
Her fingers stroked through his hair, clutching him close with the promise of pulling him even closer yet.
“I feel like I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this,” she breathed.
Yao wanted to laugh; he’d been waiting forty.
He didn’t want to keep either of them waiting any longer.
He turned towards her, nuzzling into her cleavage to draw a small gasp from the woman. His fingers resumed their ministrations at her buttons, although a bit more hastily, tugging them free and eagerly parting the fabric.
He was surprised to see the soft peaks of her breasts bared to him so easily, but he didn’t feel like wasting time or words to question it.
Instead, he busied himself with something much more tantalizing to him and drew his tongue across one.
She let out a low moan, the grip on his hair tightening.
She shifted against him as if trying to get closer to him but having nowhere to go.
He felt the peak stiffen after a few moments, and he licked again, this time grinding his tongue against it to try and get a bigger reaction out of her. He could feel her breaths become more extensive, the rise and fall of her soft curves against his face growing steeper.
He sealed his mouth around a nipple, suckling at her, and her soft heat intensified at his face as she arched towards him, pushing his face harder against her breasts.
“Yao,” she moaned. “I want…I want to…”
His dark eyes found hers as he sucked, the tightness of his mouth around her winding her up so much, she could hardly think straight.
Centuries of devotion and decades of desire compounded on him then and there; suddenly, he couldn’t wait another second, let alone for her to get the words out. Letting her shirt hang open around her, Yao turned his focus somewhere else, bringing his hands to the hem of her skirt.
He brought it up over her legs to her hips, hooking his finger around the crotch of her panties to pull it away. Then, keeping his hands there, he dragged her forward onto his lap, his erect cock sitting between them.
She lifted her hips. Yao’s hands lingered at her, wanting to guide her onto him. However, it was getting difficult to focus with her heat hovering just above his swollen tip.
He was about to ask her if she was ready – better yet, if she was certain, but before he could get a single syllable out, she was already letting her weight drop on him, spearing his erection into her tight cunt.
For a moment, his mind completely blanked, lost to the wet friction of her walls parting for him.
Yao wanted to check on her; was she in any pain? She certainly seemed wet enough, but even so, they hadn’t stretched her.
He had a light grip on her hips, ready to help pull her to a stop if she needed a break. Still, she never stopped, sinking onto him with a quiet insistence, her brow pressed into a light furrow as she concentrated.
By the last inch or two, Yao’s own resolve was quickly crumbling; his hips rose to meet her ass as he hilted himself in her. Her breathing picked up; he could see the lovely swell of her breasts, and then a low groan left her throat.
Her breath fanned across his face as she settled on his hips and in his hands. He loved having her this close, close enough to kiss and taste and whisper secrets to and count the lashes on, but the newness (or reunion) of being inside her was too much to let slip by. There would be plenty of time for loving in proximity later; he wanted to see her spread for now.
Yao leaned back, the wood of the platform hitting his back.
Like this, he could see her tower above him as she rode him; could make out every expression, catch every breathy plea, and watch the soft jostle of her breasts.
His hands smoothed over her hips, encouraging her to move if she was ready.
“Mm. You feel incredible.”
Laying back like this, he was acutely aware of the fall below should things get too wild and they roll off of said platform. In fact, he could feel where the wood ended near the top of the back of his head, which only brought on a dizzying exhilaration to the fog of his arousal.
She started moving, shifting her hips, rocking them so that he rubbed against her in shallow, little bursts of friction.
The wet sound of him sliding inside of her could be heard. The tight, silken heat of her taking him in was sublime. Yao felt like he was reclaiming a part of himself in being buried in her.
He wished it wasn’t so dark so he could see her better, catch the rosy flush at her skin and the gleam of sweat.
“Oh!—” she gasped as she maneuvered herself on him.
“It feels good.”
His heart soared; he suddenly wanted to hear more.
Even if he couldn’t see, he knew she must be blushing.
“You’re so thick,” the wet sound of him thrusting into her punctuated what she was saying. When she spoke again, her voice softened. “I like having you so close, inside of me.”
At the mention of this, his attention was brought back to the fast, bouncing way she took him. It was cute, the shift of her body with it only making him want to feel more of her, to palm her full curves and reconcile them with the hard planes of his own body.
He wanted to be even deeper inside of her; wanted her to ride him seated on his lap.
Though he’d vowed to let her keep control, he couldn’t resist; Yao grabbed her hips and yanked her down, making the next thrust a deep one as she found herself once again taking his entire length.
He couldn’t help himself then; being rough was a slippery slope with him. Once he took a little, it was hard not to take it all.
One of his hands moved up along her back, skimming upward until he caught the ends of her hair. He wrapped his fingers in what he could and used it to tug her head back.
At the same time, the hand on her hip moved to come down hard on her ass. Yao could feel the impact reverberate through the supple, soft give of her and hear the sharp smack.
She yelped at the sting, her body bowing towards his, her inner walls clenching tight around him.
Both of them groaned as her hips rolled deeply against his, her wetness seeping out and wetting the front of him.
Yao regained control, keeping her body in this odd, falling-back position as he pounded his hips up into her, fucking her from below.
She clenched around him again, and this time, she seemed to maintain her hold around him longer than she had before; Yao suspected she was close already. God, to see her come as she rode him…
The hand in her hair tightened as he focused his thrusts, railing into her in a desperate attempt to tear her release from her.
The clenching grew more and more frequent, and Yao found himself twitching as she spasmed around him. It was getting increasingly difficult to hold on and keep his own release at bay.
“Mm,” Her fingers, grounded at his abdomen, pinched into him, nails biting through the fabric of his shirt. “Yao, I’m…close. Too close…”
Her voice sounded helpless. A little frantic, even.
Yao tried to fuck her harder, ramming his hips up against her, bucking her.
“Good,” he grunted. “Let go.”
With each focused thrust, Yao felt like he was pulled closer to his own release. When she finally came, with a great big cry, her body quivering and tight around him, Yao’s cock gave another noticeable twitch. Then he was spilling himself inside of her.
The air was heavy with the scent of sex and the sound of their ragged breathing. Yao, his limbs heavy, felt like he might have it in himself to fall asleep and spend the night on the loft; then, she lowered herself, his soft cock still inside her, her body curled over his chest. Her hands were up by his shoulders, playing with the ends of his silky hair, and Yao was sure he’d be staying up here so long as she was.
He could feel the warm press of her breasts through the material of his shirt, and he found that he rather liked the idea of her naked chest against him. There was the obvious reason, of course, and then there was the comforting lull of her heartbeat, which finally felt within reach.
In the long flow of time, their boats were finally passed each other once more, close enough that he could reach across and grab her hand and keep them tethered, for the time being, no magpie bridge needed.
Yao’s arms wrapped around her, securing her to him as he turned his head to look out the hole in the roof.
The sky was dark, like the tide of the cosmos had risen. Smatterings of stars clustered and speckled across it; it almost would’ve been enough to take Yao’s breath away if someone hadn’t already taken care of that for him.
He forgot the simple treasures waiting for him whenever he came back from the capital.
When his eyes had grown accustomed to the swimming expanse of stars, he found the two pinpricks of light, a little brighter, among the rest.
He tilted his head as he watched them, his hand stroking softly through the woman’s hair, her cheek against his chest. The distance was small from where he was laying; if he held up two fingers, one lined up where each of the brighter stars was, he’d have a distance of three inches at the most. That was nothing; from where they sat, though, it must’ve been unthinkable.
Yao held onto his lover a little tighter and wondered idly when the others might meet again.
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The Sun Queen
BOBA FETT X BLACK QUEEN!READER
A/N: You were raised to be strong, fierce but when you suddenly come into power with the task of fighting a war and for your people’s freedom becoming queen is more challenging than you imagined. Recruiting a fearsome bounty hunter by your side, it’s up to you to restore your kingdom. Follow your journey to becoming a royal legend and perhaps find love on the way.
“Is it necessary that he be present, your majesty?”
Galine questions, her head tilting to the direction where the bounty hunter stood idly in the corner.
You smile knowingly at her in the reflection of the mirrors that are formed around you. “Father has commanded that he follow me where I go, it is for my protection.” You return but Galine shakes her head in disapproval making the beads dangling from her long braids click together noisily.
“We are the Nivrol, we need no help from anyone.” She says pointly, making the man turn his head to her.
“You are our princess, doesn’t your father trust our warriors to protect you?” Another woman snaps as she adjusts your crimson gown for the proper measurements.
“I don’t think we are above seeking help, but I certainly do believe we are capable people.” You respond but the women surrounding you scoff, making you frown. A shaking hand reaches out and lightly pats your shoulder comfortingly.
“Never mind their talk, my child.” The eldest woman's voice broke through. “If the king thought hiring the hunter was the most suitable idea, who are we to question?” She takes your hand gently and continues painting your nails delicately. The women in the room were hush as she spoke, it is Nivrol custom to respect the elders.
“We are stronger together.” She reminds them. The women silently agree, even Galine though she still closes her eyes letting out a small sigh of annoyance.
“Thank you, elder Nina.” You whisper and she nods with a small grin.
The women continue their work in silence. You every now and then find your gaze lingering on the silent man in the corner. Almost hypnotize by the way his helmet caught the sunlight and reflects it against the palace walls. Suddenly his head jerks catching your eyes in the mirror, his helmet tilting with curiosity. A chill prickles your spine as you shift your attention away, flustered. Your quick movements startling Kiera behind you as she adds jewels to your hair.
When the women were finished on your dress, they all took a moment admiring their work.
“What do you think?” Galine questions, her hand resting on her hip as her lips curls into a tiny satisfied smile. You’re speechless at your own reflection, gawking at your appearance. The women giggle among themselves at your reaction making you go warm from embarrassment.
The dress is marvelous, its skirt pools about you like a cascading bloody waterfall, beckoning the hunter to come to touch. The halterneck top revealed your smooth shoulders and charmingly displays the golden jewelry you wore, that is like thick bracelets around your neck. The expensive leather, crisscrossed under your breasts and waist. A touch of Nivrol strength, just enough edge, to give this princess the presence of a warrior.
“You look positively radiant, your highness!” Kiera beams. Truly you glow brighter than the twin suns of Tatooine.
You smile at Kiera. Kiera has been your friend all your life, and she’s always practically in a good mood, and tends to look on the brighter side of life unlike Galine, her sister who was more logical in her thinking. But Kiera is a free child at heart, her dark cloud-like hair formed a curly halo around her brown face, bouncing wherever she dares to roam the kingdom. Kiera grins back at you as she takes your thick and coarse hair, and pulls it into rough neat locks, completing them with jewelry afterwards. “Of course,” Nina began, “your father has requested you look your best for today’s council meeting.” A woman kindly brings you a stool to rest upon as Kiera finishes your hair. You cross your legs lazily as the women begin to gossip about what could be so urgent to call all four tribal leaders in Navitune together. An event such as this has not occurred in life times. This gathering was undeniably important. You knew it the moment the bounty hunter pounded on your chamber doors, insisting you’d get dressed and not even bother to ask him pointless questions. When a man like your father summons you, you don’t keep him waiting. Thankfully, your nightwear is as exquisite as the rest of your clothing. Your sheer garments met by the wandering eyes of his under the helmet. All the women were already present when you both arrived at the dressing room. Still, at the sight of the bounty hunter they made sure to cover your neckline and exposed skin as they helped prepare you. Your beauty is a gift from the gods but also a vulnerability.
When the women were dismissed, Kiera was sure to give you a kiss on your cheek and Galine gave the bounty hunter an icy longing glare that he didn’t at all seem fazed by. Afterwards, the hunter sets out with you back to your chambers, and once inside you sit with the quiet man in complete dead silence. He lounging back on the leather cushion of your bedroom sofa as you perch yourself on the edge of your bed.
Gods, being alone with him was a nightmare.
He hasn’t given you his name, but then again you never asked originally thinking it’d be rude to. You’ve also never seen his face, having only caught glimpses of his tan skin when his gloves shrouds up his wrists. He barely says a word to you unless it’s a demand from your father.
You've heard the stories of him, but you sometimes wondered if all the details were true, the tales seems so grossly exaggerated. A man, a perfectly forged warrior, identical to his father yet trained to be superior. Anything else besides the death of his said donor and the talk of his bloodshed was hidden beneath his armor, his truth self an enigma. You know practically nothing about him but somehow had to trust that’d he’d keep you from harm? He terrifies the life out of you. From his modulated voice and intimidating nature. The last thing you want to do is accidentally make him angry with all your childish nonsense but you can’t help but be...mesmerized by the hunter. It’s ridiculous, you've been around the most prominent and promising men in the entire galaxy but he’s the one you’ve developed a quite helpless crush on.
And he doesn’t even speak to you.
So you ultimately tried to keep your feelings at bay but it was impossible when he was always there. When you slept he’d occasionally, curl up on the leather couch, blaster in hand. When you bathed he’d stand guard outside. He used to walk behind you but during the following weeks he now began to walk beside you. He sat with you while you prayed in the garden, he’d bring you books before you asked when it was obvious you were growing bored but you imagined it was because he didn’t want to hear you complain.
“Do you…”, you began, pausing to swallow thickly.
“Do you know why the council meeting was called?”
He turns his head to look at you, quiet for a moment. He sighs deeply leaning further into the seat letting his arm be slung over the back as he relaxes uncharacteristically.
“No, but little one you shouldn’t worry your pretty head about it too much.” He responds, and the nickname has you preening. You remember the first time he called you that was when you offered him some of your sweet fruit. He took it thanking you and the nickname slipped from his lips smoothly. You could’ve swore you heard him chuckle when your eyes widened. You’ve never experienced any feelings like this before. You had touched yourself that night, teasing the sensitive bud and biting your bottom lip to stay quiet. You think you know he suspects you want him. You feel it in the way he looks at you when you’ve been staring too long. You want him to take you , to let him feel how soft and warm you can truly be. Sometimes you wonder about how’d he fuck, how desperately you needed to know.
You turn away when he rises from his place, his armor noisy clacking as he strides across the room. He lowers himself to the bed. Your body trying not to shake as you catch another glimpse of the warm, tan skin of his wrist that reveals itself from under the fabric. Your heart leaps when his leg rests lightly against your own. You know when he doesn’t speak at first it’s because he’s waiting for you to, and it amazes you how he understands you, as if he has known you for your whole existence.
“I’m afraid,” you whisper, fumbling with your hands in your lap. “Shit, what if he’s decided it’s time for me to take over?”
“Then he knows you’re ready.” He mutters in a low voice too.
“I can’t...disappoint him anymore.” You sink into the bed, slumping. “He expects so much from me and I’m afraid sometimes I can’t compare to who he truly wants me to be.” You continue on.
“Exceeding the expectations of one's father can be a difficult journey...but not an impossible one,” a modulated voice returns quietly, his gloved hand barely touching your knee when you suddenly smile at him in delight.
“Wasn’t your father a bounty hunter too? I heard the best, and now you are as well too. You’ve seemed to become exactly what he expected.” Your hand soothes gently over his. Fingers glide along his own, trailing over the covered knuckle.
“I’m just a simple man making his way through the galaxy.”
“Like your father before you,” you add.
“Yes” he breathes out.
You smile letting your hand pull away hesitant.
There’s a small chuckle through the modulator, and he rises when the door abruptly opens. A young servant girl stands in the doorway bowing nervously once she sees you.
“Y-your highnesses, t-they are ready for you.” Her small voice announces.
“Thank you, we shall make our way there now,” you tell her, bowing your own head when she scurries away. You breathe in a shuddering breath as he offers you his gloved hand. You take it, squeezing tightly but he doesn’t seem to mind. Letting go he lets you lead as you begin your way to the council hall. He lingers behind as you guide him, his eyes scanning the artwork on the wall arching to the ceiling. The art told the story of your planet. The creation of your empire and family legacy. The birth of Navitune, home to the sun people. The Nivrol, whose skin is sun kissed by the gods.
Black and beautiful.
Navitune, sits on the edge of the galaxy, a backwater planet with every crevice of it’s world overthrown with its flourishing beauty. When you arrive at the council hall two of the most elite Nivrol warriors stand guard. You gulp at their present, knowing now whatever your father has called the tribes for is indeed of great urgency. Entering, the council members rise in your presence. You stand in front of the elders bowing all together and taking your seat next to your father. You can’t help but notice he’s paler than usual, his dark brown eyes sunken as he frowns. The grey standing out in his beard and coils. A girl wanders up and places a bouquet of yellow and golden flowers onto the empty throne next to you. A remembrance to the dead.
Your mother’s absent.
The hunter takes his place next to the right arm of your throne, blaster risen and held in his hands to his chest.
The room was tense. Your stomach twists, your mind churning with endless horrid possibilities as to why. You turn your attention to your father, his face remains impassive. You hated that unreadable mask, especially when you had yet to learn to control your own emotions. “You understand why I’ve called you all here today?” Your father began, the elders nod silently. You lean forward, your face puzzled. The elders' faces show great despair as they focus their gaze away from you. Your fathers eyes grew dark.
“We are losing the war against our enemies.” He utters.
You grip the arms of your chair. “What?” We couldn’t possibly be losing. We are stronger, faster, more advanced than they could ever become! The Nivrol never lose—
“They’ve obtained outside help. They are killing our forces more and more everyday.” Your father said quietly. “At this rate, they’ll win against our forces.”
“What happens if they do?” You question. When none answers, you slam your fists against the arms on either side of your throne so hard that it stings and echoes through the hall. “What. Happens. If. They. Win.” You demand.
“...They will enslave us.” Your father answers, eyes becoming even more impossibly sunken. It wasn’t like your father...to give in. You grit your teeth and anger flares through your veins, like poisonous venom.
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Your fists clenched.
“Do not raise your voice at your king!” Elder Zoid bursts out, you whip your head at him. Zoid had always thought unkindly to you, ever since you were born and the throne was to be inherited by you instead of his own son who would’ve been runner up. You mentally groan at the sight of him.
“I could’ve helped.”
Zoid chuckles darkly. “How girl?” He spat. “You know nothing about war. Clueless on how to lead an army let alone a kingdom. You can’t even spar for your life. That’s why this gutter womp rat follows your tail around.” Your father pushes to his feet. “Enough.” His voice rises above both of yours. No other person spoke, all eyes on the king.
“The past can not be undone.” He shook his head.
“We must plan for the future. If this war is our downfall, think of our people. The Nivrol must go on.”
You kept your gaze on the floor, as your father took steps your way. He lifts your chin, forcing you to look up at him.
“I brought you here because I wanted you to be a part of this decision. Soon one day this will be yours and your say is just as important as any other.” He murmurs. You nod, trying to contain your anger. He releases his grip and steps away back to his throne. “Y/n” His voice echoes in the silent room. “If we were to be overtaken, what do you believe is the best course of action?”
“We can not give in.” You snap. “We can’t let them enslave our people. Whether we win or not.” You let a hand run through your locs as your father clears his throat.
“We are stronger together.” You add, making Zoid’s jaw tense. “My, princess, do you believe it would truly be wise to try and wage another war after we’ve lost our greatest fighters already.” Zoid sneers.
“What do you mean?” You growl at him. “Are you saying we let them enslave our entire planet?”
“I’m saying we let our people keep their lives, foolish girl. Why should everyone die because of your incompetence, hm? Where’s our honor in that?”
“Where’s the honor in being a coward?” You challenge. Zoid shot to his feet, hand on the hilt of his sword. The hunter took a small step forward closer to you, his visor trained on the elder. The guards grip their own various weapons. You’ve seen firsthand how the hunter could fight. The guard’s weapons would do little to stop him. If the elder tries to land one attack on you, you know he’d protect you. “Look at you, speaking to us like you're the ruler of this kingdom. Not yet, Y/n.” Zoid hisses. “You’ll never be like your father.”
“Enough! I’ll have no more of this!” The king snaps from his throne.
“Stand. Down.” He orders. After a moment Zoid releases his grip from the hilt of his sword and you cross your arms. The hunter lowers his weapon as the other warriors follow in suit.
“Father,” you spoke without looking at him. “What do you believe.” Your father pauses in thought, carefully calculating his next words. He looks between you and Zoid before he sighs greatly.
“I believe we are also stronger together.” He finally answers. Zoid clenches his fist and you give him a satisfied smirk. He bares his teeth at you in an angry sneer.
“My King Misaeli, I mean no disrespect but do not let this girl be the death of our people.” He jabs his finger rudely in your direction. “ She has no idea what we are fighting, her foolish ambitions will kill us all! If you truly care for the Nivrols you will realize what’s really at stake here and it’s far more important than pleasing her!” Zoid roars. You rise to your feet, fist clenching at your side. Your whole body trembles as your anger takes over you. You swallow your retorts, biting down on your bottom lip. Even if you hated Zoid, you couldn’t disrespect an elder. Ever.
“I’m done.” You spat. “We have our answer.” You cross the room standing right before Zoid as you look down at him. Letting him be met by the unmerciful fire in your eyes.
“Death is better than bondage.” You bellow.
You stalk to the doors, but pause on the threshold.
“My people will never be enslaved.” You speak to all of them, turning around. “Not now or ever. Especially not when I’m their Queen.” You turn on your heels and travel back to your chambers. The hunter following close behind. You slip into the room, the heavy doors closing loudly behind you. Enough blood had been spilt on the battlefield. None would shed on you land.
“The girl is usually quiet this morning, as one could expect at the expense of what she’s recently learned. I could tell by her own past much like her father there lies a web of secrets, secrets tangled with loneliness and fear. I could see myself in her when I was her age, the death of her mother leaves a bitterness incurable. Like my fathers had. I suspect if one day she does not confront herself, like my own anger it will consume her til she can no longer convince herself otherwise that the pain is long dead.” The hunter thinks.
You stand on the forefront of the garden, a wondrous statute of your mother constructed in her memory there . Your eyes close in prayer, and the hunter takes in your peaceful expression. You are incredibly beautiful. He admires the way the sunlight glows through your black skin, your eyes were bright from the light reminding him of the comforting embers from a fire, fluttering in the night wind. The plum gown compliments your complexion, your glorious locks swaying loosely behind you, silver jewels decorating throughout your hair.
Truly a sight to behold.
You pray to your mother and ancestors for their guidance. Their protection. The freedom of your people.
Your brown trembling lips curl into a thin line, as tears stream down your face as you end your prayer. You let out a shuddering sigh as you gaze at your mother’s face for a longing second before turning away. He sighs silently under his helmet when he sees your reddened eyes.
You huff, shaking your head. “It doesn’t get easier, does it?” You whisper. “Missing them when they’re gone.”
Under his helmet he grits his teeth, closing his own eyes. “No.” He answers truthfully, breathing out the word like it physically hurts him to confess. “But, you learn to live with it.” You blink back tears, chewing your bottom lip.
“How did you?” You ask, and the hunter shrugs.
“I did what my father expected of me, and in doing so I found some peace.” You cross your arms, letting your head fall to your chest as he steps closer. “I think if you follow your own path, you’ll find it too, little one.” He says in a gentle voice. You raise your head and find his helmet close to you. You can smell him, the sweat and must of him. You can hear his quiet breathing. You're certain through the dark vision you must be locking eyes with one another, knowing that he’s looking so deeply into yours sends another electric chill down your body. Out of your own control you move closer to him, your hand absently reaching out to press a warm palm to the cold armor of his chest plate. He doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t even move. But, you want him to because you can’t stop yourself. Though another part of you just wants him to let his own fingers wander down the valley of your chest. You raise a shakily hesitant hand to his helmet, and quickly in a blur he grabs your wrist firmly.
“Careful, little one,” you hear him warn. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
You bite your lip as your trembling finger reaches out.
“Please,” you begin. “Let me…” you trail off when your finger connects with the cold helmet. He lets you slowly caress his covered cheek. His hand never leaves your wrist but his thumb gently rubbing tiny circles into your skin. You gasp at the softness of it. He takes a cautious step closer letting your chest press together. Your other hand rests on his shoulder plate as his other hand presses into your back, bringing you closer to him. You hear your own ragged breathing. Your mind raging though you can barely comprehend a single thought. The hand on your back suddenly hovers over your mouth, his thumb pressing down on your bottom lip. You close your eyes as your nails dig into his shoulder. You, completely blissed out as he edges impossibly closer into your space. You look at him through hooded eyes.
“What’s your name?” You gasp. The hunter tilts your chin up, so his finger can run a slow line down your throat. He takes in a deep breath.
“You want my name, princess? Do you?” He whispers, and you nod dumbly and frantic. He chuckles and it makes you squirm under his touch. He leans into your ear. “Would it complete your midnight fantasies?” He mutters, in a low voice. Embarrassment flares through you and the hunter laughs at your dismay but never pulls away instead he leans closer.
“My name is…” he begins, but before he can finish a loud explosion is heard from the far end of the palace. Loud screams echo out, stilling you both. The ground shaking, taking a moment for you to catch your footing. His grip turns to steel as he suddenly takes your hand pulling you back to the way of your room. You can barely keep up , you're behind him as you look around in terror as armored guards swarm the kingdom halls to the chaos behind you. The horns follow, warning the land. They are deafening and overwhelming. The servants are shouting something, but you can’t make out what. The sky is blanketed in thick, black clouds swirling with a bloody red. You feel the reverberations from the horns and falling structure of the collapsing building. You’re nearly to your room when you hear it, the low terrified whispers that your father had been nearby. The hunter pauses for a mere second when he hears it too, turning back he finds your horrified expression. Before he can react you snatch your hand away, running back in the other direction.
“Y/n!” He calls your name, following behind. Tears blur your vision as you push one foot in front the other.
You run as fast as you can.
The flames warm your feet, burning against your gown, leaving the air fogged and dry. You could feel an unsettling pressure build in your chest that made you lose your breath. The pressure constantly rises, as you run faster. A leg out, foot down, another leg out, another foot down. The hunter could stop you and drag you back to your room now but he doesn't. Instead he’s close behind you, blaster in hand. You whip around the corner and halt at the sight before you. You hadn’t realized it but you were running straight to the council hall. The once majestic walls are rumbled beneath your feet. You are completely lost for words. You take a desperate gasp of air as your lungs are squeezed by the anxiety taking over you. The ash floating all around you, the hall seemingly nearly disintegrated. Your eyes tear apart the burning destroyed room but then…you see him. You let out a blood-curdling scream in agony falling weak to your knees.
“Father!” You scream hoarsely. You crawl over the glass and brittle bricks, not caring if you scratch or cut your hands or knees. His body, shielded by a veil of thick black smoke, the fire enclosing around him, smoldering and crackling, wounding itself around the body like a deadly serpent. You manage to avoid the flames and reach out to him, his eyes gazing off towards the dark sky. You shake him helpless, fingers digging into his chest. You let out another scream to the heavens. The bounty hunter stands by the doorway breathless and stunned. He feels his heart swell and break for you. Your screams echo in his mind until he hears nothing but his own from childhood. The whole kingdom is left in dismay, the screams of terror filling the air. Leaving no space or void without the horrific cries. A long horn sounds only making the citizens wail loudest.
For this horn meant…the king is dead.
The Gods wept the day you buried your father, your king.
The garden flowers drooping low to the ground , as if paying their respects to the dead. Examiners who viewed the cause of the explosion proclaimed it a tragic misfortune. Guessing a natural gas leak was the fatal blow, but in your heart that didn’t feel completely why and couldn’t pin why. Three nearby servants had been killed by the explosion. You had the kingdom acknowledge their deaths as well and that their family be compensated for their loss. Your people cried, their tears seemed never ending as your own. You often found yourself being comforted by Kiera or Galine, even the hunter himself was at your bedside when he heard your broken whimpers. You avoided mirrors, only seeing your fathers face staring back at you. You ate less, closed your mouth more. You weren't yourself. Your followers grew worried that you may never be again.
The kingdom also cries for you, princess.
The dressing room is eerily quiet, the first time it had ever been. The women exchange looks at your defeated demeanor, none question your strange request that the mirrors be covered with a sheet. No one dared to break the silent. The hunter watches them dress you in a silky pure white gown that hugs your figure perfectly. Kiera braiding your long locks. When the women finish you say nothing. Head bowing down, as you stood quiet. Galine swallows as she and the other women bow before taking their leave. Nina’s hand rubs your shoulder comfortingly and Kiera as always kisses your check, her own tears wet against your face. When they leave, and the door clicks close. You take in a shuddering breath that makes your whole body convulse before you fall to your knees. An angry pained scream echoes in the space around you, the hunter comes up behind placing his hand on your back as you weep, kneeling beside you.
Today is the worst day imaginable without your father.
Your crowning, as Queen of Navitune.
A title you never wanted so quickly.
The hunter holds your trembling frame what seems like forever. Finally you lean up using his arm for support, wiping your tears. “This pain is unbearable.” You whimper, and his hand gently smoothes over your knee. “I understand how you feel.” He mumbles. “When I lost my father, I lost myself.” He takes in a deep sigh before continuing, “It took me a long time to find my path again, sometimes I still stray away.” His gentle fingers again find their way to your face, his soft but firm grip grasps your chin. “But, you’re different Y/n, you're stronger. Your ambition is your strength not your weakness.” He lets you rest your head in the crook of his neck as you take in a shaky breath. His fingers entwined between your locks. You sigh when they rub gently into your scalp, your tense body going boneless under his touch.
“I imagine you’ll be taking your leave soon,” you mutter.
He lets you pull your head back as you glance at one another again.
“Why do you suppose that?” He questions.
“My father was paying you handsomely to protect me and now...he’s gone.”
He takes in your sad expression, his heart feeling that familiar ting of sadness that reminisces from his own childhood.
“That maybe so,” he began, making you perk up at him, “but I wouldn’t miss your crowning for the entire universe, princess.”
You’re stunned for a moment as if your mind needs a second to truly understand the weight of his words. But, then you offer him your warmest smile, one he’s sure could melt winter into spring.
“That is if you’ll have me.” He adds. You can’t help but to take his hands into yours, holding them tightly as you smile. He tilts his helmet down at where your hands meet, his own hesitant at first before easily gripping yours back.
“It’d be the greatest pleasure to have you at my coronation before you go.” You tell him. You couldn’t see but a small smile began to curl on the hunter’s face under his helmet, growing by the second.
“Then I’ll be there, princess.” He promises.
You take a breath, it’s into late morning the sun barely rises on the east. The kingdom air already feels stifling, especially with all the tribes here to bear witness to your crowning. From a window in your chambers overlooking the kingdom bailey you can see the tribes in their traditional attire. The Sky tribe wears garments of raven black and stashes of dark blue. The Merchant tribe bear a fiery red and white. The River tribe in ocean blue drapes paired with muddy brown and cloaks of animal hides. Your tribe, the Golden tribe, wear chitons and himations of yellow. Shining like an endless sea of sun rays. You smile, these are your people. Your brothers and sisters. They were barely given the time to mourn their king, given the presence of the over growing concern of the war. It was urgent that there be a new ruler in place, you, and you could feel the unmerciful weight of your father’s legacy on your shoulders now.
Suddenly there’s a hesitant knock on the door’s threshold. Barely audible if you hadn’t already been on edge. It opens slowly revealing the small shy hesitant girl, who had interrupted the hunter and you previously. You find your welcoming smile slowly faltering as you take in her injury, a bandaged burn arm. At the expression of your face, she quickly hides the injured arm behind her back.
“My princess,” she begins. “Forgive me for intruding on you once again.” She bows.
“ Are they requesting my presence?” You question and study the clock on your wall, noting it was earlier than expected.
“No, your Majesty,” she answers. You narrow your eyes at her, lips purse into a thin line. “Then what brings you here?” You puzzle. She hesitates, looking behind her, checking both hallways on her left and right. When she is sure the coast is clear she enters, holding the door and letting it close silently. You find her behavior peculiar? You watch intently as her unsure expression on her face switches from panic to fear, as if her mind is desperately trying to function enough to form a sentence. When her lips quiver and her hands begin to shake, you rise making quick way to her and reach out to grasp her shoulders.
“Breathe with me.” You say softly. You demonstrate, breathing in and out slowly. She mimics you, breathing like so until she calms down. “Now, I don’t believe I ever caught your name?” You offer a kind smile. The girl wipes her fallen tears from her face.
“My name is Sonni,” she tells you.
“Sonni? What a perfect name.” You exclaim. At the comment she gives you a dimpled smile, eyes twinkling. You gesture for her to sit on your leather couch and she complies. Once you’re sure she is ready you try talking to her again.
“Now, tell me what you have to say.” You gently demand. Her eyes wide and glazed over with fear. “I...d-don’t know how to say this,” she stumbles over her words.
“Tell me what you can and I’ll put it together.”
She shifts her glossy eyes downwards, her breathing stuttering. “Before, your father died…he was speaking to someone in the council hall.” Her quavering voice confesses. A feeling of dread creeps up from the pit of your stomach
She gives you a worried glance. When she doesn’t answer immediately, you reach out holding her arm firmly, repeating yourself.
“Who?” You press.
Your face contorts, twisting with fear and confusion.
“Another meeting was held without me?” You hiss, your heart fluttering before picking up its pace. She shakes her head, frowning. “Zoid came unannounced.” A muscle feathers in your jaw, tensing. “He was angry with your father... for siding with you. He told him he was making a terrible mistake, told the king he feared him repeating history with the same fate your mother had.”
You gape at her. How dare Zoid even utter a single word about your mother!
“He threatened my father?” You snarl, teeth baring. “It happened moments before the explosion.” She continues. A dark expression crosses over your eyes and Sonni nods understandingly. “I thought you should know.” She straightens her clothes, and begins walking towards the door. Directly before she reaches it, she glances back, “Princess, I’ve always believed we as people we were stronger together…” she trails off.
“And now?” You croak, the end of your words trembling barely holding onto the strength of your voice.
“Perhaps...not everyone feels the same. So where does that leave us?” Her frown deepens.
You feel your unshed tears, trying to hold back the seething
torrent building. She opens the door. “You...are all we have now. The people need you...I need you.” She strides out the door, letting it close quietly behind her. Once that first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unyielding unbroken stream. You bent forward nearly collapsing on the floor.
You were all your people had. They need you. They need their Queen. You needed to pick up where your father left off and lead them through this treacherous war back to freedom. They couldn’t be enslaved.
It could only be you, princess.
You swallow and draw shallow breaths to calm your thudding heart. The kingdom hums with tension as you enter out the large entrance castle doors. The Nivrol warriors march in following behind as you glide down the kingdom steps, the hunter trailing behind. Your white gown shimmering like a warrior’s armor. Rows of soldiers in formal uniforms step back to form a path as you proceed into the center of the crowd to a raise platform.
Elder Zoid, dress in red armor festoon with war braids and medals, stands waiting with a solemn expression. On his left the rest of the elders stand in anticipation as well. A jeweled crown is held in his hands. The warriors guarding the platform peel off to either side of the steps, melting into the ranks as you step up the platform. Your heels clacking on the wooden floor. The hunter stands off at the foot of the steps, looking upward at you in astonishment. A warrior trundles out a kneeling pad and places it in front of the elder. Before fading back into the crowd, you draw a breath, taking two steps forward and bowing.
You clear your throat, focusing making sure you speak clearly and loud enough for everyone. "I, Y/n Syndulla of Navitune, come to offer my heart and soul to the kingdom of the Nivrols as the true heir to the throne"
"Kneel," Zoid commands.
You place both knees down on the pad, hands place over your thighs and head lowering.
“Is your Majesty willing to take the Oath?”
You nod, answering, “I am willing.”
Zoid begins the ancient oath, “Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern and protect the People of Navitune under the gods eyes. That their freedom, possessions , territories, and any of their respective laws and customs be taken under your care”
“I solemnly promise so to do.”
“Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?”
Zoid went on, “Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the Laws of the gods? Will you to the utmost of your power maintain our way of living? Will you maintain and preserve our settlements and the doctrine, worship, discipline, and government? And will you preserve our world to last even after you’ve gone onto the most high, the sun god?”
“I will.” You say, the words coming up out harsher than you intend.
“Then I strip you of your title of princess of Navitune and present you to the court as Queen of Navitune, ruler over the Nivrol.”
Above you, Zoid holds the crown. Large, and studded with the finest gems, made of pure gold and lined with the smoothest silk. "Under the eyes of the Sun God," he begins, "I name thee, Y/n Syndulla, true successor and Queen of all of Navitune. When I place this crown upon your head, the gods will acknowledge your right to protect and serve your vassals and people, and to forever protect the legacy of the Nivrols."
Zoid begins to lower the crown. You look up in anticipation. It's symbolic. To allow the oldest elder to crown you is to submit to the power of worship to the gods over the land. To rule, to truly rule, it is important to understand not only the nature by which a Queen comes to power, but to understand how that power is most effectively executed. To survive this coronation as the heir to the crown is something of a gamut in itself; many plotters, many plots, and countless efforts to seduce, persuade, or otherwise mitigate the rightful power of the crown.
The gods wield the power uncontested. Though you have trust in the gods you could no longer stand by as they plotted their affairs. There are other means to secure the throne. Head bowed, you allow the crown to descend upon your head, for today you'd allow yourself to be crowned before the gods.
And after that, you’d make the gods kneel.
Not even their power was going to be enough to stop you from freeing your people, faith was under your whim and under your reign. When the crown falls upon your head, you stand and look out at the crowd. Rapturous applause rang out as Zoid steps to the side, giving you the chance to make a speech to the realm. When you rise for a long moment, you stare out saying nothing. Around you the crowd murmurs quietly. Heart speeding up, you draw a breath, you close your eyes, willing the last bit of courage in you to cease the tingle of fear rising up and tensing your throat.
Breathing like you taught Sonni before you calm your restless heart, eyes closing. With a sigh, you look out
forcing the tiniest shred of strength you have left to carry your voice. You swallow. "Days ago my father, Your king Misaeli passed.” The tribes look on to you, you notice them coming over with as much as emotion as you are.
“When I was young my father told me the measurement of a true ruler is not by their riches or battles won but the heart of their character. The love they have for their people and the people’s love for them in return.”
The hunter smiles under his helmet.
“My father was greatly loved, and I believe he watches over us and gives us his protection. He leaves behind a legacy that seems incapable to fill but I know with you all by my side we will bring peace to Navitune again.”
Your back straightens as you step forward. “I’m certain you’re all aware of the war. The overbearing weight can seem unbearable and it looms over us. But, this is not the first time our people have faced our captives.”
You notice the Zoid watching you from the corner of his eye, brow furrowed. “Thousands of years ago our ancestors fought for our independence. Instilled in us is their bravery and courage. We are the children of some of the greatest warriors in existence. Who could ever deter our strength?!”
The crowd grows loud with scattered cheers and rising applause. Zoid glances out in dismay. "The Nivrol will go on," you declare. "We will fight this war, we will not let our suppressor win. We will never be enslaved again!"
The entire kingdom is filled with lively praise.
"DEATH,” you shout over their joyous cries. “IS BETTER THAN BONDAGE.”
You hear their cheerful screams and chants.
“LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!”
“HAIL THE NEW QUEEN!”
Though he hid it well Zoid truly shaken, your words reverberating in his mind shaking him more intensely as the crowd grew louder. Sonni, Galine, and Kiera cheer from their places in the crowd . The hunter gives you a single approving nod. One by one every tribe member begins to bow before you, going to their knees and foreheads touching the ground in praise. Everyone bows but one, the hunter. You tower over him from the platform, your gaze locking.
“You don’t have to bow to me, friend.” You say. “I am not your queen.” The hunter takes in a shuddering breath gazing upon your brown face, your lips curling upward into that familiar kind smile. Beautiful. He pushes a leg out, one foot after the other up the steps. Before anyone can protest he kneels on one knee before you. You hold back a gasp, as he looks up to you.
He shakes his head, “I pledge my allegiance to no one, but for you my Queen….I offer you my hand in this war, I am at your disapol. I promise you I will not let your kingdom fall.”
He offers you a hand and your own trembling hand grasps it. The kingdom , even the elders , watch silently as you the hunter gaze at one another.
“It’d be an honor,” you grin. “We are stronger together.” The kingdom applauds at the charming display. Zoid biting down his spiteful remarks. The hunter’s grip tightens as he rises not letting go yet. You step closer. “Please,” you whisper to him. “Tell me…”
“Boba,” he mutters softly. “My name is Boba Fett.”
“Boba,” you repeat the name foreign to your tongue but fitting so comfrontly. Sweetly.
“Boba Fett, may the sun god keep his eye on you. Offering all his protection.” You smile.
He huffs, “I won’t need him if I have you.”
This time you squeeze his hand, body flushing with warmth. “Then may we overcome this war together.” You smile. He chuckles low, the modulated filter lowering his voice. “I promise you little one with me and you, your people will never be oppressed again.”
You smile impossibly bigger at him, brighter. You know he was a man of his word and with the hunter, Boba Fett, by your side , your kingdom would be victorious, you feel it in your heart.
Long live the Queen of Navitune. The Queen of the sun people.
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bokuto koutarou - clair de lune
a/n: I was listening to clair de lune (debussy) while writing this entire drabble. it’s 3 AM so this is highly unedited.
“Kou.” You poke your boyfriend’s shoulder. He’s graciously allowed you to borrow steal his couch for the night. You’d been camping out in his living room ever since you arrived. While he’d been able to convince you to take a study break and eat dinner with him, the long list of to-do’s in your notebook had quickly drawn you back towards your spot on the sectional.
But right now, one of your readings is giving you a complete headache, and you have half the mind to just give up and hope you don’t look like a fool in discussion tomorrow. As the words on your screen blur together, you decide it’s time for a brief, but well-earned, distraction.
“Kou?” You poke him again. When the wing-spiker had realized that you would be occupied for a good amount of the evening, he’d taken it stride, pressing an encouraging kiss on your forehead before settling on the ground next to you. Plugging his headphones in, he decided it would be a good time to catch up on the recon Coach had asked the team to do. While you’d typed away behind him, he’d caught up on watching matches from the teams they were lined up to play in season (how are Ushijima’s spikes still so damn scary?).
“Kouuuuu,” you whine, flopping onto the couch and burying your face in his shoulder. Honestly, he had thought the poking sensation on his shoulder was just you fidgeting on the couch.
“Yes?” he responds, chuckling when all you respond with is a groan into the crook of his neck. Bokuto’s calloused hands comb through your hair, before making their way to your neck. He presses down the the tense muscles, trying to ease the neck pain he knows you have (you’ve been hunched over staring at your laptop screen for far too long).
Suddenly you sit up. “Lap,” you demand, insistently patting the couch cushion beside you. Smiling, your boyfriend quickly rises and gets himself comfortable, and gently eases you head onto his thighs after softly caressing your cheek. Satisfied, you nuzzle into his warmth, propping your computer on the couch cushion so you can continue to read, albeit much more comfortably than before.
While you continue to work on your assignments, Bokuto distracts himself by scrolling through social media. He can’t help but smile at Hinata and Kageyama’s latest twitter feud (something about a supply closet during high school), and lets out a small laugh when he sees that Sakusa and Atsumu are once again roasting the shit out of each other on Instagram live. Out of habit, he start carding his fingers through you hair.
The feeling of Bokuto playing with your hair is soothing, and it’s not long before your eyelids start drooping. Valiantly you try to continue reading, but eventually give-in and close your eyes, basking in the softness of his touch.
It’s the sound of your soft snores that makes Bokuto realize you’ve fallen asleep. Your laptop is still propped up on the couch cushion, and he immediately closes it so the harsh blue light won’t disturb your slumber. Placing your laptop on the coffee table, he does his best to organize and stack your materials next to the computer without jostling your head. Thankfully, it seems that the exhaustion from this week has pulled you into a deep slumber, and you remain steadfastly asleep despite his movement.
Knowing that your back probably can’t take a night on the couch, he gently wraps his arms underneath your legs, easily carrying you to his bedroom, taking care to make sure your unsuspecting limbs don’t bump into any furniture. It’s only when he sets you down on the soft sheets that you awaken, bleary eyes squinting at his face. “Kou?” you rasp, voice hoarse from sleep. “What time..?”
“It’s a little after ten,” he murmurs, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from his dresser. “Do you want to change into something more comfy?”
Too tired to even think about your unfinished assignments, you nod, stretching out your arms towards your boyfriend. He can’t help but laugh at how adorable your actions are, and obliges your request, gently helping you shuck off your outfit and change into his clothing. Tugging at your hand, he pulls you to the bathroom. He quickly squeezes some toothpaste onto the toothbrush he keeps for you and passes it to you. Slowly, you brush your teeth, while your head occasionally droops down from sleepiness.
Once you’re done cleaning up, Bokuto ushers you back to bed, tucking you under the covers. He chucks his shirt at the laundry bin in the corner (he’ll pick it up tomorrow morning) before joining you in bed. The mattress dips as he moves to hug you from behind, arms wrapped around your waist and warm chest pressed to your back.
“Night, Kou,” you mumble, already close to falling asleep once more.
Bokuto presses a tender kiss on the back of you neck. “Night, baby,” he whispers, before allowing the sound of your soft breathes to lull him to sleep as well.
Bonus: [8:45 AM]
The next morning, Bokuto wakes you up before he goes on his morning run. He know you were stressed about finishing your readings, and it wouldn’t be the first time you would be skimming through articles while sipping coffee in the kitchen. By the time he comes back, you’ve finished your school work and have moved on to cooking him a simple breakfast. The two of you enjoy each other’s company over some steamed rice, grilled fish and miso soup before you have to attend your online class.
It’s a little chillier than you expected, so you don one of Bokuto’s old hoodies in preparation to attend virtual class. Even with the sleeves rolled up, you your hands are still engulfed by the soft fabric. Eventually, you end up on the couch, legs wrapped in a throw blanket stolen from the bedroom. This time, you’re sitting cross-legged, laptop on the armrest, while Bokuto (out of sight of your camera) rests his head in your lap, savoring the gentle sensation of your fingers twisting and playing with his silver hair.
@megumidulce @come-on-shitty-boys hello i did something and now i present to you soft bokuto
not @ me projecting my existential dread for my 8:30 AM class tmrw/today (lol it’s 3 AM). everyday i wake up and choose less (not no) sleep
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Testing The Limits
Sub!Jk x reader fluff and smut
Warning: overstimulation, handcuffs, begging, edging
If there was one thing Jungkook knew with all certainty it was that today’s exam had not gone the way he was hoping for. In fact, it might be the worst exam he had ever had the displeasure of taking. All he wanted now was to go to your house and spend the night with his head in your lap as you stroked his hair and told him it was going to be okay. It was his cure all for every shit day, nothing better than spending time with his best friend. On his way he stopped off at the grocery store, picking up mint chocolate chip ice cream for himself and your favourite candy.
When he arrived at your front door, he did what he always did, and let himself in. Except this time you weren’t expecting him, at least not for another hour or so.
”Y/N?” He called out into the apartment , but wherever you were hiding, you obviously couldn’t hear him. Jungkook shrugged to himself and kicked off his shoes. He was sure you’d appear sooner or later. He headed into the kitchen to grab a spoon for his ice cream and that’s when he heard you in the pantry.
You must’ve been on the phone to one of your other friends. Reception sucks where you live, but for some reason there is always just a little more signal in that cupboard. Jungkook didn’t mean to listen in. He was just going to grab his spoon and go. Then you said his name.
“Of course I like Jungkook, but its not that simple. He is my best friend I cant risk that because I might be a little be in love with him.”
Jungkook’s doe eyes widened at your admission, his mouth hanging open in disbelief, the small spoon falling to the floor The sound of metal hitting tile was deafening. There is no way you hadn’t heard it. Quickly, he rushes into the living room. Just as he jumps over he back of the sofa you walk out of the pantry.
“Oh, JK... You’re here.” A blush creeps up your face as you refuse to make eye contact with your friend. It doesn’t matter, the boy doesn’t turn to face you, hoping to keep the matching blush on his own cheeks hidden. “Have you eaten?” You ask with the intention of moving on from your phone call. He supplies a small grunt in response and holds up the pint of ice cream. You understand the meaning immediately. Walking up behind him you immediately start to play with his hair.
For a moment he forgets what he just heard you say, leaning into your familiar affection. His eyes close and he lets out a small whimper when you tug at the roots a little.
“It’s probably not as bad as you think Kookie.” You state although you have no way of knowing. He pulls forward out of your grasp and places his face in his hands for a moment. You take the opportunity to fetch the snack he brought you from the where it had been left in the kitchen. Returning quickly and sitting by his side. You pick up the remote and search for a movie that you know will take his mind off of his problem. As you set everything up the way he likes it, he looks at you for the first time since you got of the phone he looks at you, really looks at you.
He watches the little face you pull at the first bite of overly sweet candy, the way your hair falls a little messily, how your nose scrunches when you realise he is watching you.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, cocking your head to the side.
“You like me?” immediately you feel the heat returning to your face. You pull a pillow from behind you and bury your face in it, holding it up by pulling you knees as tightly into your chest as you can.
“Crap, fuck, shit.” You mumble profanities into the soft fabric for a moment, before Jungkook manages to wangle it from your grasp. You hug your knees impossibly closer and force yourself to meet his gaze. You’re not exactly sure what you were expecting his reaction to be... disgust? Pity? Anger? Instead you are met with what seems to be curiosity. He leans in closer resting his chin on your legs, his lips mere inches from your own.
“Y/N, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hear your call, and I definitely didn’t mean to ask you outright like that... but do you like me?” his breath tickles your face. He smells just like the ice cream he had been eating. Instinctively you lean that little bit closer until your noses bump together and you recoil completely, placing some distance between you on the couch.
“I didn’t mean for you to find out like that, I didn’t really mean for you to find out at all. Look I’m sure my feeling swill fade nothing has to change.” You rub your hand across the back of your neck and glance down sheepishly. Jungkook uses this as an excuse to move back into your personal space. He has you pressed against the armrest now, no where to escape.
“What if I don’t want your feelings to go away?” His tentatively presses his lips on to yours. In your shock you struggle to respond. Eyes going wide, hands flailing as you lose your balance and fall over the armrest with a thud. He springs to his feet to help you back of the floor.
“What did you do that for?” You glare up at him as he offers his hand to you.
“It seemed like the best way to tell you I like you too.”
You take his hand, only to hit him on the chest when you are steady. Both of you’re surprised by the little moan that escapes him.
“Do that again.” He asks, sucking at his bottom lip.
“Do what again? Fall on my ass?” you look at him like he has gone insane.
“No, hit me.” Now you’re concerned he is the one who fell over and hit his head.
“Why do you want me to hit you? That really seems counterproductive after admitting I like you.” Instead of answering he just kisses you again, this time more desperately, like he might explode if he isn’t touching you. When you are struggling to breathe he pulls back.
“I... I want you to take care of me Y/N. Please I’ve wanted you for so long and now I know you want me too.” His voice is whiny and quiet, you have to strain a little to hear the next words. “I want you to ruin me.” It’s a hard offer to turn down. You push him back on to the sofa and straddle his hips, suddenly very confident. You kiss along his chin until your lips reach is ear.
“Tell me how you want me to ruin you Kookie.” He shivers as your warm breath tickles his earlobe.
“Any way, just please, please.” It’s then you grind down and feel how hard he is through his sweats.
“Okay, but remember you asked for this Kook.” Your hands glide from his shoulders to the waistband of his trousers as you slip on to your knees in front of him. He whimpers as you tease the fabric, lifting his hips to allow you to slip them off. His cock springs free from its confines and you are more than excited to find that it suits the rest of him.
Longer than average and a slight left lean, it was built for fun. And that is exactly what you had planned. You grasp him around the base and twist a little experimentally. His hips buck into your hand in response. Using your free hand you push back against his movements, forcing his hips to stay down.
“I thought you wanted me to ruin you, not ruin yourself?” You still your hand and raise an eyebrow at him.
“I’m sorry I’ll stop, please keep going, please.” You’ve barely started and yet it seems like he is already about to burst. Regardless you continue, dipping you head forward to take him into your mouth. You lick across his slit, collecting precome on your tongue. You make eye contact with him as you close your mouth, making a show out of swallowing his taste. He moans as his hands flinch, restraining himself clearly becoming more difficult.
“Come on, lets go to my room, I think it will help.” You stand and hold your hand out to help him up. He kicks his sweats off of his ankles and follows you into the bedroom. You position him on the bed, stretching his arms up towards your headrest. The handcuffs let out a satisfying click as you pull them from their hiding place and attach one side to his left wrist. “Still okay?” you meet his eyes hesitating before attaching the second cuff.
“More than okay.” He sighs out dreamily. You close the clap and shuffle back down to hiss leaking cock. This time there is no buffer, you open up your throat and force yourself as far down as you can, swallowing as close to the bottom of his length as your gag reflex allows. his thighs tense under your hands, you can tell he is close. Strangled noises and deep inhales are all he can manage as you drag your tongue along the underside on your way back up. After a couple of pumps you can hear the handcuff chains clanging against the bedframe as a warning. Before he can cum you pull away.
He whimpers at the loss of contact and you bask in the knowledge that you could make him feel this needy. You slip out of your shorts and crawl up level with his face. Dipping down for a kiss before lining yourself up to him. You sink down slowly at first, so slow it’s almost torture for you too, but the look on his face makes up for it. His eyes are screwed shut, lips white with the amount of pressure keeping them pursed together. You slide your hands up his biceps and towards his bound hands at the same pace as you lower yourself on to him, holding his hands as you bottom out.
Rocking carefully, you grind into him deliberately. With each movement you watch the reaction it elicits, fascinated with each new facial expression you discovered. He was so pretty like this. Blue hair plastered to the sweat on his forehead, eyebrows creased in pleasure. It made you want to stop, freeze him like this. Every time you felt his thighs tense behind you, you stopped. Seeing him writhe at the loss of orgasm was enough to have your own high building in your core. Then you got a brilliant idea.
You started riding him harder, faster, chasing your own high more than his. Each forward motion pressed up against your clit in the best way. You barely noticed as he came for the first time, to wrapped up in your own pleasure now. He whimpered and whined as the over sensitivity set in but you kept grinding. Your orgasm hit so hard you almost couldn’t keep yourself upright, having to bring your hands away from his and onto his chest in order to support yourself.
You open your eyes to find tears streaming down his cheeks. Immediately concerned you had taken it too farm, you carefully remove yourself from his lap, his dick already hard again.
“I’m sorry Jungkook, I got carried away.” You unlock the handcuffs, quickly checking his wrists before bringing your hands to rest on either side of his face. Using your thumbs to wipe away the tears, you lean in and litter kisses on his forehead. “Kookie? Are you okay? Do you need me to go get you some water? A bath? Anything? I’m sorry I should’ve stopped.”
“Just one more kiss.” He mumbles sleepily. He pouts and tilts his face in search of yours. You let out sigh of relief and oblige.
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Hot Cocoa and Crushes - LJN
Pairing: Jeno x gender neutral reader // NCT (Dream)
Genre: fluff, comfort, drabble
Includes: Texts, hot chocolate, Daegal, Chenle mention, work, non idol au, friends to lovers, confessions, teasing, Chenle being a matchmaker
Word count: 1009
Warning: there’s mention of eating habits, comments on said eating habits
Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @kpopscape, @ultkpopnetwork, @kpopficsnetwork, @kpopcontentcreatorsclub, @k-dinernet, @lovesick-net, @whipped-kpop-creators, @kafenetwork, @ficscafe, @dreamwritersnet, @neoswitchnet, @nct-writers
Tagging: @teeztheflag, @the-rooftop-fight, @cherry-hyejin || Taglist Form
An: This is for @alicanta77. She’s been having a not-so-good day and I wanted to brighten her day up a little :) (Also I legit forgot what species Daegal was but hushh)
Waking up to a barrage of texts from their mother complaining about everything under the sun was not the way y/n had expected to wake up that morning. Not at all. Especially when said complaints mentioned their - technically pretty healthy - eating habits. Their mood soured, y/n got round to deleting the texts as they got ready for the day, trying to put it behind them as they ate breakfast. They had work to do and being in a bad mood was not going to help.
Video calling Jeno as they tried to get some work done for the day, y/n sighed as they relayed what they had woken up to to their best friend. Nodding as he listened, Jeno made a mental note to call Chenle and ask if he could look after Daegal for the day.
“I’m so sorry you had to wake to that y/n-ah, although I do have one question.”
“Oh? What is it?” Taking a moment to look away from their computer screen and towards their best friend - and crush, although they weren’t exactly willing to admit that to themselves yet - y/n raised a brow, an amused smile on their face when they recognised that look in Jeno’s eyes. One that meant that he had something up his sleeve.
“Are you free right now? I’m gonna come over~”
“Oh, sure! I’ll clear up a little then, don’t take all the time in the world, alright?” Hanging up the call when Jeno gave his signature eye smile in reply, y/n began to lightly clear up their apartment. It wasn’t exactly messy, but there were definitely a few things that needed to be rearranged.
Meanwhile, Jeno had hurried over to Chenle’s house after briefly texting that he wouldn’t mind looking after Daegal for the day. The younger of the two led Jeno inside with a confused laugh, a sound of realisation following soon afterwards. Jeno was going to see y/n. No wonder he was in such a rush.
“Daegal-ah! Come here~” Calling after his ‘daughter’, Chenle laughed when the small dog rushed to his feet, quickly pawing at Jeno’s legs when she realised who else was there. Picking her up, Chenle gently ruffled behind her ears and smiled. “You’re going to spend some time with Uncle Jeno, okay?”
“Thanks for this Chenle-yah, you’re a life-saver.”
“I know~,” Chenle hummed as he placed Daegal in her carrier and handed her over to Jeno, “oh - and tell y/n I hope they feel better~.”
“Those two need to hurry up and confess to each other...”
Standing outside of y/n’s apartment, the rush of butterflies that overtook Jeno as he knocked on the door caused him to exhale heavily. As long as he didn’t mention the ridiculously large crush he had on them, the 21-year-old was pretty sure that everything was going to be okay. When he heard the door lock turning, he rushed to try and hide Daegal behind his back, a grin on his face when he was face to face with y/n.
“I have arrived, your highness~” He joked, a playful wink on his face as he walked inside.
“So I’m royalty now huh? How courteous of you, Sir Jeno~” Y/n fired back, laughing at their own antics. Tilting their head when they finally realised that he was holding something behind his back, y/n opened their mouth to ask, but soon closed it when a cute bark rung through the apartment. A hand to their face as they laughed, y/n looked Jeno in the eye, giggles dressing their voice.
“Lee Jeno, are you telling me that you went all the way to Chenle’s house and brought Daegal with you?” They asked, still in amused disbelief even as Jeno nodded, put the carrier down and let Daegal out. The cute bichon scampered around the familiar space before running to y/n as they brought Jeno to the kitchen. Offering to make him hot chocolate as they were already making one for themselves, Jeno accepted, joining y/n by the counter.
Sat down in the living room with their favourite drama playing and Daegal playing at their feet, the pair held a comfortable silence, despite the air heavy with a question neither were going to bring up. And neither of them were going to, until Chenle texted y/n, a cheeky nod to getting them to confess to Jeno. Seemingly pausing the film out of nowhere, y/n set their drink and turned to Jeno, the other mirroring y/n, a confused look on his face.
“Y/n? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah - yeah, everything’s fine. You’ve been great today, coming over and bringing Daegal with you and all.” Exhaling, they pulled on their sleeves as they continued, “There’s just something I should probably tell you, before I bury it any further.”
“What - what is it? Should I be concerned?”
“No, not really - at least I hope you won’t be. The thing is, I’ve...I’ve been thinking about our friendship, and I’ve been wanting more.” Jeno could swear he was hearing things for a moment, because it sounded as though y/n had peered into his heart and started taking the words out of his mouth. Keeping quiet in hopes that his hunch was correct, the corners of his lips grew into an ever-bigger smile.
“I...I want you to be my boyfriend, Jeno.” Holding their breath as they waited for a response, y/n’s eyes widened as they were engulfed in a hug, Jeno sighing in relief.
“Do you want to know how long I’ve been wanting to ask you? To be mine?”
“How long?” Y/n asked, a curiosity in their eyes that only made Jeno fall more in love.
“High school senior year, y/n-ah, but I was too afraid you didn’t want that.” He admitted, ignoring the heat rising to his face. Giggling and reaching over to ruffle his hair, y/n shook their head.
“Gosh you’re so cute. I guess this makes it our first day, huh?”
“That it does~ thank you for loving me, y/n-ah. I love you.”
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with malice aforethought.
↳ zen’in naoya/reader
“know your place,” he reminded, “women are only good to serve as wives, but even you are not deserving of that title.”
genre. angst, explicit smut, 18+
cw. traditional setting, profanity, extreme misogyny, mentions of virginity loss, degradation, fellatio, face slapping, hair pulling, rough sex, unprotected, dom/sub elements, mentions of incest, servant!reader, undertones of delusion
notes. this mans a whole tw himself pls. also, this fic was birthed bc of that one anon who lives in my head rent free lmao and this is one of my fav works ever. enjoy! reblogs are most appreciated uwu
Being a maidservant for the Zen’in clan was both heaven and hell in itself—six months ago, you were unknown to the idea that such a median place existed in this era of modern times. Just like the interiors of their palace estate, their family structures were candidly traditional. Conservative, at most. Almost in parallel to a historical Japanese period ￼where monarch reigned supreme.
Pride was an intrinsic component upheld by this powerful, noble clan. They embodied the stigma of a family with anachronistic beliefs, perceiving that everyone else outside of their clan were of low-status. Commoners. People that were simply of no use to them other than to serve. Their stern, stone-cold gazes towards their servants alone were enough to bring forward what kind of judgment they had for the people outside of their bloodline.
Still, from the rumors you’ve unintentionally overheard within the estate, some of the clan members have apparently left because of the strict, archaic methods that they ran even to their own kin. No family member was excused to the fact that a Zen’in must maintain a high status by possessing their powerful cursed techniques. In an instance where a member was deemed weak, they would be ostracized.
That was how intimidating the Zen’in clan was. Imbued with the ideology that being weak as a sorcerer was disgraceful to their family. You called it hell because you’ve had to work under their stony, forbidding stares as they ordered you around with very little acknowledgment to your human emotions.
On the other hand, you called it heaven because the pay was irrefutably good and, to a reasonable extent, there was Naoya Zen’in.
Yes, he was an aristocrat. Yes, he was no better than the rest of his very political family. He was an epitome of the aforementioned ideals of their traditionalist clan—often making crude remarks towards the women he targeted with prejudice, often boasting his superiority against his other relatives that he regarded as a competition to his impending inheritance as the next head of the Zen’in clan.
He was raised in an environment of insatiable hunger for power. Forced to grow up in a deeply perfectionist family structure. You knew nothing about Jujutsu sorcery and why they took pride on their infamous curse techniques but you reckoned that they wouldn’t be as powerful and mighty as they were if they didn’t possess qualities that made them one of the big three sorcerer families in the Jujutsu society. With this, a Zen’in had every right to be pompous. Being vainglorious was Naoya’s acquired trait.
But despite all that, you’ve grown to be fond of the man. Ah, what a shame! You expected people would say that. How could you like an egoistic man whose bigotry exceeded unacceptability? What they didn’t know was how he spoiled you with affection behind closed doors and wooed you with praises for being his ‘good girl’, and you being shamelessly stupid to fall for his charms, had long been wrapped around his fingers.
Naoya’s behavior didn’t match his strikingly handsome face. The same face that looked down at you each time you came to his quarters to serve him of his needs. One of those needs, in fact, had a double-meaning inclined into it.
One of which you were also willing to go through again on this fine eventide. Sticking by your schedule, it was time to serve tea to your master but you were greeted by an empty chambers from the minute you stepped in on the tatami flooring.
The herbal scent filled your nostrils as you carefully placed the tray above the wooden chabudai. The ceramic teacups clinked after you have placed them atop the table, sitting with folded legs while waiting for Naoya to arrive. He could be engaged in a discussion with his elders as of this moment and you wondered if you should just come back later.
However, the sound of the sliding door awoke you from your thoughts to see the man of your interest entering his quarters with a visible frown. His eyes were sharp, still, and unrelenting. It’s one of those days, you thought. Something must have caused his ire and you were fast on your feet to give him a respectful curtsy.
“Naoya-sama,” a silent greeting left your lips, seeing his chagrin on display, “I’ve served you tea.”
The man raised a dismissive hand, “No need. Just go straight to it and do what you have to do.”
Your failure to initially understand what he meant only caused his annoyance to grow more. “Should I take my leave, Naoya-sama?”
“You women are so stupid.” Naoya Zen’in had you imprisoned under his disapproving stare. Hearing his condescending remarks wasn’t brand new. “What else should you be doing here? Strip.” The soles of his feet landed heavily on the woven rush as he then disappeared towards the bathroom. “I want you naked in bed when I come back.”
Oh. You thought he didn’t wish to proceed with your scheduled clandestine encounters because he wasn’t in a great mood. On one hand, you looked forward to it because it had been awhile since the two of you were last intimate.
You were thinking of how shameful you were as you rid yourself of every traditional clothing that was wrapped around your body. Little by little, more of your skin was exposed while you were succumbed by your deep thoughts.
Being sexually involved with Naoya as a lady servant in the Zen’in household was a scandalous and daring choice, but one that you didn’t regret in doing so. Your fellow servants might call you indecent for your bold acts because Naoya was one of the members of the clan that they despised in secret. He’s harsh, they said. He looks down on others. He’ll insult and belittle you to your face.
He was a puissant man who constantly demeaned women on a daily basis and you were a spineless soul ready to open your legs for him. At what cost? Nothing. Just the sole fact that you had never been desired by a man as much as he did. Out of all the women that he could take interest on, you were the special one that caught his selective eye.
Was it wishful thinking to hope that you could land such a man of high status?
Or were you simply blinded by his riches and the lavish life that he could offer?
At once, you were in his bed bare of any clothing except for the cream-colored sheets that you’ve covered over your torso. When Naoya came back, he had already stripped off his black kimono and white collared shirt—now his muscular but lean body came into view with just his boxers on.
“Is everything okay, my love?” you sweetly asked, watching him rake his long fingers through his flaxen hair before he took slow strides towards you. He snatched the blanket off your body and pushed your naked self back on the mattress, hovering over to trail kisses along your jawline.
The heavy rise and fall of his chest signaled his underlying temper. “Should you be asking dumb questions?” he gritted, pressing himself on top of you with your legs wrapped around his waist. ‘Obviously I’m not fucking okay’, he must be thinking. His clothed member was grinding against your cunt, earning your breathy moan. “That’s what you should be doing. Moaning.”
“Naoya-sama,” you restrained your voice, feeling his lips moving towards your breast to suckle on the flesh. You made an effort to grip onto his hair until he locked a hand on your wrist, preventing you from touching him. “Wh-Why? You’re... not in the mood.”
Releasing your tit from his mouth, he then sighed in exasperation. “You know that old man needs to simply step down,” he finally opened up, referring to his father while his fingers found its way to your core. As soon as they were resting on your slit, he didn’t hesitate to play with your clitoris with circular strokes. “He’s better off six feet under.”
What a terrible thing to say.
“That’s—aah—still you’re father,” you said in between moans, feeling the sudden intrusion on your hole as he inserted two fingers without warning. “Mmh—!”
He was planning to fuck his frustrations out on you. You could see it in his eyes just with the way he was keeping a predatory gaze. Without a minute to waste, he began sucking on your lower lip before lapping your whole mouth with fervor. Tongue meeting his in a battle of dominance which, naturally, he’d win.
Your mouth vibrated when you whimpered from how his fingers deepened inside of you, moving them in and out at a fast pace, curling them so they could reach your most sensitive spots. More. You released a salacious moan. I want more.
Your velvet walls were clamping around his digits as he continued to speak his mind, “No one else in this clan is competent enough to take over as much as I do.” His warm breath suffused your cheek with a red tint. “My brothers? They’re all losers.”
He reunited your lips with a harsh kiss, restraining your breathing as he ransacked your mouth. The intense osculation had him sinking his teeth on your lip, later emitting a whimper out of you. “Mm!” Too rough, you wanted to say. He was achingly rough today unlike any other day but you were oddly aroused. As he finally separated his lips from yours, he gave you blank look—one that screamed his lack of mercy. Hostile. Yet, in spite of your growing fright, you combed your fingers through his hair and traced the piercings on his cartilage. “Maybe you shouldn’t pressure yourself too much... about being the next head of the clan. Your day will come, my love. Patience is a virtue, remember?”
He curved his fingers inside your tight cavern, leaving your lips parted before he withdrew them. “What makes you confident that I’d take advices from you? You’re a woman. Keep that mouth shut,” he spat, unapologetically, “Ah, better yet, have my cock stuffed between those pretty lips. It should silence you from your useless opinions.”
Here he goes. Always one to utter belittling comments. The best way to deal with it was to go with the flow. Holding back a sigh, you drew in a deep breath as his body left yours so he could stand on the side of the bed.
Naoya was a firm believer of patriarchy. If it was his way to exude male dominance, you could never tell. A man with such domineering values should be handed a taste of his own medicine, but you didn’t have the backbone to do so.
The way you’ve submitted yourself to him was now far irredeemable. It was the only acceptable explanation as to why you were on your knees for him, watching as he pulled the bands of his underwear down to let his cock spring free. “Naoya-sama...” You looked up at him for permission, to which he responded with a curt nod.
“Be a good girl and please me.” His tone softened, no longer as harsh when he threaded his fingers through your hair. Your palm was wrapped around his girth before you whirled your tongue around his throbbing tip. His eyes glinted with lust as he kept eye-contact to watch half of his shaft disappearing from your mouth. “Do more.”
You hummed, momentarily closing your eyes as you worked your best to pump the rest of his length. Bobbing your head at a rhythmic pace, he stared at you with a smirk forming on his lips. “Mmh—!” How could this man have so much power over you? Why do you let him? In hopes of receiving his praises, you allowed him to push his cock further down on your throat at a state where your nose met the base of his groin and your chin was pressing against his bollocks.
Drool escaped from the corners of your lips while your eyes brimmed with tears. You were gagging on his thick cock as he began thrusting on your face to meet his satisfaction. “Aah, shit. That mouth really is something.”
Hearing his guttural moan heightened your arousal. Large, manly hands kneaded your bust in the middle of your face-fucking and you interlaced your fingers above his as they traced your nipple. “Mmh...” Pulling away, a string of saliva connected his cock to your mouth. “You taste so good, Naoya-sama.”
“Yeah?” he scoffed, lifting your chin with his index finger. Intense, mocking eyes bore into your soul as his palm met your cheek with a slap. The sudden harsh contact had your eyes widening in surprise. Before you knew it, his thumb was on your mouth as he made you suck it. “You should be grateful that you have a pretty face. Otherwise, I will not have taken the slightest interest on you.”
You were left speechless from his words knowing that such praises were a double-edged sword. He grazed your cheek with his finger, running this thumb across your lower lip before he hunched over to give you a kiss. A reward for your docility. When he stood back up, his hand was wrapped around his shaft to give himself a few pumps before positioning it between your mounds.
“How long has it been, hm?” he inquired lightheartedly, smug face looking down as you squeezed your breasts together to keep his length in between. You ended up spitting on the head so it could better slide with ease. “I mean, us. Darling, when did we start this setup?”
Your body matched the rhythm of his thrusts, allowing his cock to penetrate your cleavage before you answered, “Three months.”
His laugh was deriding, but the pull he had on your hair was even more scornful. “Only three months and you’ve had it with me more than the days a calendar could offer. Needy little whore.”
Naoya’s choice of words limned your cheeks incarnadine. You nodded, nonetheless. Heart eyes blinking innocently for him and him only. You could barely remember which exact day it all began, but the first time was back when you prepared his bath and he asked you to join. You ended up being fucked by this man in his bathtub, soaked and corrupted by him. “I like doing this with you, Naoya-sama.”
“As you should,” responding with a narcissistic undertone, he watched you do the rightful job as you compressed your tits together so his cock could peek through. “Aren’t you one lucky whore? Giving your first time to someone with the likes of me. It’s a great choice.”
Your first time. Perhaps it was why he liked you so much. For a man like Naoya, taking a woman’s virginity was an added bonus to his ego. He placed you on a reasonable pedestal because of it. “Y-Yes.”
His hand cupped your jaw. “It’s only befitting that you remained chaste until I had you stripped naked.” By then, he stopped you from moving in preparation for the next position, but not until he added, “A woman like you... vestal on the outside, promiscuous on the inside. You know how to please a man like you should.”
What even was left of your womanhood when you were with him?
You were an arrant disgrace to feminism. You were well aware of that, but you couldn’t control yourself from the gravitational pull that this man had on you.
Growing up with no father, being bullied as a child because of the lack of paternal figure—your actions now must have rooted from those factors. Your behavioral patterns met Naoya’s in perfect harmony. You were made for each other. He was meant for you.
“Get in all fours.”
His orders were always obediently followed by you. With your ass all for his to have, your palms were pressed against the mattress as you faced the fusuma panels that separated you from the outside. You suppressed the moans from escaping your lips as soon as Naoya positioned his tip on your entrance, sinking his hardened cock inside your slick-coated walls. “A-Aah!” you couldn’t help it, “N-Naoya-sama!”
Slamming his cock without mercy. You were certain that his roughness were due to whatever pissed him off during his meeting with the clan. Now, here you were, receiving his pent-up anger by fucking you to hell and back. “Fuck,” he grunted. “This pussy.” Slam. “I’ll fucking ruin it.” Slam. “‘m gonna make it swollen.”
Your breasts were sore from his jostling—each thrust was another loud thud. “P-Please!” you whimpered, fisting the sheets as Naoya caught up to a desperate pace. “Want... your cock, Naoya-sama.”
“You slut,” you heard him growl, “Who knew you could take this cock so well? Always so tight and warm.”
Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull with each hard pound. He became relentless at plowing his member into your stretched-out cavern that acted like suction.
More. More. More. You were losing your mind. The feeling was insanely good, “Aah—!” You could feel him stretching your buttocks so he could see just how deep he was going inside.
Now if any of the clan members found out about your sexual relations with this man, what would happen to you? You didn’t want to think of the consequences. As long as Naoya wanted you, you didn’t mind continuing what you had.
He was yours. He was all yours. No one else could have him.
The squelching sounds echoed through his quarters—your shadow reflecting directly on the opaque walls affixed to the wooden lattice. Naoya now had a foot placed atop the mattress to support himself from adjusting his cock even deeper that he was reaching your cervix. In result, you were a moaning mess with a hole deliciously filled by your master’s cock.
Carnal desires shared between two people. Naoya wasn’t one to hold back from fucking his servant because he had to get what he wanted. ‘You are not to deny me’, he once said.
“I will become the head of the clan and I’ll turn you into a concubine, at best,” he conversed, concurrent to his heavy thrusts. “Given that my future wife conceived a useless child who didn’t acquire our family’s curse techniques, I suppose I can—”
You clenched your teeth, eyes widening in surprise. “C-Concubine?”
He jerked his hips harsher than before. “That girl Maki, she would have been a great consort to me but her personality is too revolting for a woman. Like I said, women who don’t know how to respect men should die.”
Where was he going with this? Maki was his cousin. What the fuck did he mean that she would be his consort?
“Naoya... s-sama,” you struggled, legs turning into jellies with each second passing, “she’s not the w-woman for you.”
“You’re right,” he hummed, nails digging crescent marks on your flesh, “in that case, her sister Mai is great. At least she knows she’s a woman. Perhaps she can bear a pureblood Zen’in that’ll serve as my heir. I wouldn’t mind impregnating that bitch. She’s got a big bosom going for her,” derision filling your ears, he reached to cup both of your breasts for a gentle squeeze as if he was comparing your cup size from his cousin’s. “Ah, in comparison to Mai’s, your tits are quite disappointing, aren’t they?”
You bit your lip to restrain your lecherous moans. “Y-You...” His pace was now at an animalistic speed. He must be reaching his climax because you were also near your orgasm. “I-I don’t wanna be a mistress.”
“Shut your mouth,” he spoke through gritted teeth, pounding your cunt through fast penetration before he pulled out and spewed his warm cum all over your bum. With you falling on the mattress in ragged breaths, you tilted your head back to see him jerking off to release the rest of his semen on you. “Fuck, that was good.”
You exhaled deeply. “Kiss me, at least?”
“No.” He was quick to walk towards his bedside table to reach for the box of tissues that he flung towards you. “Wipe yourself.”
There was a pang on your chest—a painful feeling that submerged you into the harsh reality. You failed to see it at first, but you were beginning to pick up the pieces for your own sake. Naoya’s recent words about his cousin made you realize that he was planning to keep himself exclusive to the clan, even if it meant an incestuous relationship as long as his lineage would remain as a pure Zen’in.
Sitting up on his bed after wiping yourself from being the dirt that Naoya treated you. You gave him a look of protest, “I don’t wish to be just your mistress, Naoya-sama.”
He simply fleered. A very disrespectful laugh that left blisters on your heart because his flame was a taste of hell. Between two worlds, you were on the far side of the spectrum and he acknowledged that from the very start.
That was all you ever were.
“You’re not in the position to talk back. Know your place,” he reminded, fisting a handful of your hair, “women are only good to serve as wives, but even you are not deserving of that title. You’re just an ambitious whore trying to become a part of our clan.”
How could mere words cause a sting in your heart so painful that it would bleed from inside out? Naoya Zen’in was not yours nor was he anyone else’s. He was his own person, deciding only for himself and his selfishness because that was what made him. That was the person that he was and you, as stupid as you were, ended up embedding his existence into yours in a state that made him inescapable. His sharp words had always been intended to kill your soul and corrupt your femininity with nothing but malice aforethought.
“That was great sex. Now go get dressed and leave.”
In return, you ought to give him a brutal lesson before he could fully destroy you.
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004 | CONTROL
a/n: these next couple of chapters for control will be shorter as i don’t want to cram everything into one single chapter. they’ll be 004, 005, 006, and 007 respectively.
YOU SHOULD HAVE guessed that, whatever crowds Akaashi was involved in, it wasn’t somewhere you should be going. While Akaashi was a famous designer, he also had a life that you knew nothing about—a life that his assistants whispered about under their breath where they thought you couldn’t hear. Akaashi had always been adamant that you never step foot in the life that he’d created for himself, ever wanting you to be the innocent bystander if things went wrong; and, well, you’d always been about subverting expectations, but not like this.
Ayano pulled out a black, slinky dress from some designer brand you couldn’t see on the label, clicked her tongue, then put it back and began going through your extensive collection of cocktail dresses when the bodycon section didn’t produce fruit for you. You sat watching her from your faux leather and fur divan, holding a bottle of Screaming Eagle Sauvignon Blanc. The wine had been a gift from one of your more important backers and you needed it for the night you were about to have, if you didn’t blackout from panic first.
“Will you chill out?” Ayano sighed, dropping the expensive Yves Saint Laurent in exasperation. She was already dressed and ready to go in a black dress that had enormous slits to show off her legs and her dark hair had been curled to perfection. She looked more the model than you did right now. “It’s just a meeting, no different from any other one you’ve been to.”
You glowered at her and lowered the wine bottle from your mouth. “It’s a meeting with the Yakuza, Ayano. The Yakuza.”
And there lie the entire reason you didn’t want to go at all. If it had been literally any other person than Akaashi asking, you wouldn’t even be sitting waiting for Ayano to pull together an outfit for you. You wanted nothing to do with organized crime syndicates; one meeting with the Triad was enough for you, throwing the Yakuza in the mix was drawing a line in the sand.
“So?” Ayano shrugged and walked over to snatch the wine bottle out of your hands. You pouted at her and crossed your arms like a petulant child. “Look, it’s just one night and there’s no one you know there except for me and Akaashi. We’re going to be his arm candy for a few hours and then leave before the deals start going down. That’s it.”
You grumbled in reply and stalked off to the bathroom to brush the wine stains from your teeth. Hopefully before the night was over you could go home, get embarrassingly drunk by yourself and eventually crash in the tub like you always did. You didn’t deal with stressful situations like this very well at all, especially ones involving people who could kill you and most assuredly get away with it.
When you returned, Ayano had picked out a dress and laid it on the bed and was now destroying your shoe closet for the perfect pair to go with it. It was one you’d never worn, somehow, a plain black silk piece that had a gaping neckline and slashed hems at the side. It was actually one of Akaashi’s first pieces, you remembered, and he’d gifted you the prototype as a congratulations gift when he wasn’t all that big but you’d modeled for him anyways. That was over two years ago now, and you wondered if you could still fit in it.
You slipped it on and, other than finding the waist a little too hugging, it fit like it did the day you had gotten it. You began pinning your hair up to keep it up and out of the way, since you didn’t feel like doing anything to it to make it particularly high fashion, and Ayano returned with her spoils: an unbroken pair of Christian Louboutins that were going to kill your ankles before the night was over.
Right as you were going to slip them on, a Facetime call popped up on your phone. The only one who would call you around five in the afternoon on a weekday was Kuroo, so you answered it and stepped into the heels while you did.
“Whoa, [Name], I didn’t think I’d get a screen full of cleavage!” Oikawa shrieked, his voice throwing you for a loop. You picked up the phone and glared down at the screen depicting the pretty faced male, eyebrows rising in disbelief when you spotted the background of an airport behind him—the Tokyo airport, specifically. “That’s better, I love seeing your angry face so late at night.”
“What the hell, Oikawa?” You rubbed your face, sighing exasperatedly. “You go almost a month without contact and now you’re making Facetime calls?”
“Hey, I couldn’t help it!” He gasped, affronted. “But if you must know, I was doing some important business transactions that couldn’t wait.”
“How’d you know about—” You watched a thundercloud roll over his face as he stared at something out of frame and over the phone. He looked pissed and you had to wonder what he was looking at in an airport of all things. “[Name]?”
“Why is your face plastered all over this airport with Ushijima Wakatoshi?”
“When you flaked, they called him in last minute,” you explained, reaching for your makeup and ignoring the way a red flush was creeping up his face. “If you must know, he came last minute and we were just going to scrap the shoot before he did. Why does it matter?”
“He’s my mortal nemesis!” He was shouting now, mostly in disbelief, and was now rushing down the airport to the front doors, completely ignoring the gaggle of fangirls cheering for his arrival. “I can’t believe you, [Name]!”
“I thought your nemesis was Ushi...waka.” You finished lamely, realizing it was actually two names put together in a stupid nickname and not a bizarre name that made its way out of the woordwork. “Oh well, it isn’t like you don’t deserve it. You flaked, not me.”
You spent a few more minutes arguing with him until he said he was going to eat and that he would call you later to ask you more about how Ushijima was at the shoot. You’d rolled your eyes and agreed, hanging up and finishing putting earrings in your ears. You looked simple and classy, which was apparently the look Ayano wanted to go for—not too flashy, not too eye catching.
“Well,” you sighed, turning to Ayano who already had your bag in one hand and a fur shawl in another. “Let’s get this party going, shall we?”
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