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makeitagood0neao3 · 3 years

Text

Safe Inside

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2,754

Warnings: Non/con. Explicit sexual content. Dark!Peter Parker AU. 18+ only!

The knock on your apartment door couldn't have come soon enough. After a long, tiring day working virtually, all you wanted was your take out, likely still warm from the restaurant downtown. Hair in a messy bun, long shirt covering a pair of shorts you padded to the door. Looking through the peephole, just to be safe. You couldn’t be too careful nowadays.

You opened the door to see your usual delivery guy standing before you, grey Supreme hoodie beneath a black coat, the hood pulled over his head. In his hand were the handles of a plastic bag as he balanced a soda on top of it.

“Greek delivery for a pretty lady in apartment 410?” He asked, barely able to contain his smile.

“Hey Pete,” you greeted, matching his energy. “I just Venmo’d you.”

“You better not have included a tip, Y/N.” Peter handed over the soda and bag before grabbing his phone from his pocket to check for the transaction. “I told you to stop tipping me.”

“I know you did,” you answered smuggly. “But you deserve a tip when you give me life by baklava.” He smiles back before peering into the apartment behind you. He was always doing that; checking, observing. You only ever ordered dinner for one, but that didn’t stop him from being curious. Not one to easily trust, you know the little world you built can be easily destroyed if you let the wrong person in.

He never asked if you were seeing someone or overstepped. The most flirting you had done with this younger man was to tell him that if he got straight A’s this semester at the university, you’d invite him inside for a drink.

“Yeah, yeah. I appreciate you. I gotta run, but I’ll text you.” He waved and made his way down the hall.

Using your foot to kick your door closed you locked it with your free hand and set the food down on the counter. Setting your Spotify playlist to shuffle on 80’s rock before digging in at your tiny dining room table that barely fits in your small apartment.

You met Peter on a whim. Never one to plan meals out in advance, you were often left to starve or eat cereal for dinner after working. Never one to leave your apartment when it was dark out, you settled for having dinner delivered. Peter was delivery guy on a food delivery app and learned your dinner routine and favorites quickly. Which was surprising, because you couldn’t possibly be the only person in Queens ordering take out every other night.

And he couldn’t be the only delivery guy around, but he somehow became your usual delivery guy and you, his regular. Usually one to get chips as a side at a nearby deli, you didn’t order any one evening. He messaged you No chips tonight?

It surprised you, but you brushed it off, telling him you were cutting back on junk food. He dropped off the meal at your door with a knock, but by the time you opened it, he was gone. Sitting at the top of the paper bag was a bag of your favorite chips.

Always one to drop off your food quickly and not stay to chat, you caught him one night to thank him and tip in cash. Since then, you two would talk in your doorway briefly, mostly keeping your friendship to text as you were both busy. After a year of limited in person social interaction, any casual conversation over your threshold was greatly accepted. One day soon you’d venture outside, but with the availability to have nearly everything delivered, you doubted that day would come soon. You just weren’t ready.

Soon you ditched the app and just text him when you wanted dinner and he dropped it off to you. The price for you didn’t change, but gave him some extra. You honestly didn’t know why he chose to deliver food; he was always dressed extremely nicely in name brand clothes and you later found out he has a lucrative position at Stark Industries.

Once you had asked him why he chose to do this, in the literal rain and snow, and he told you that it was something to do. He got bored often and it was better than sitting in a lab all night. He made it seem like he did this for several people, but you didn’t see how he had the time to.

In the middle of scrolling on your phone, there’s a slow delay in registering what you’re seeing. Shaking your head and blinking hard, the sensation didn’t go away. Your body seemed to relax as a deep buzz set in and your body movements sluggish. Bringing the fork up to your mouth for another bite, you missed completely, the rice pilaf dropping onto the table. You tried for another bite and this time succeeded.

Are you... high?

You tasted the mineral chalkiness before you noticed the white powder poorly mixed into your rice pilaf. Brain fuzzy, you tried to analyze the substance. Thinking it strange, you drank from your take out cup of soda to wash it down. It became harder to swallow each sip, but you had already finished half the meal.

A knock at your door echoes through the wood. Each footstep towards the door bounces between your ears. Struggling with the lock, you finally got it open, your legs almost numb and your arms heavy. On the other side of the threshold stands Peter, his hood over his head, eyes assessing you through his lashes as his head angles down.

“Pete?”

You feel his arms around you before the whoosh registers in your head. Blinking hard, you are lying on your back, limbs heavy. Some time must have passed, but you can’t be sure.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered from above you. “I think I gave you too much.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, a shiver blankets your skin. You let out a whine when your tongue refuses to curl with your words. It lies heavy, your jaw loose as you slur out questions.

“Peter?” You try again. Your question is slurred and there’s a pitched whine to your voice.

“Shhh, this is for your own good.”

“Mmph” you mumble, unsure if you actually feel hurt right now at this moment. Your movements are heavy and slow, like running through water. Your back is against something soft that smells like your fabric softener. Your bed. When did you get here?

“I’ve wanted you for so long. Now I can finally have you.” His hands seem to be frantic as he pulls your shorts from your hips and down your thighs before discarding them. Is he frantic or is this normal speed? His coat is gone and he pulls his hoodie over his head, his shirt stuck inside it. He’s next to you a fraction of a moment later

His warm hands graze your hips as he pulls the oversized shirt off of you, the crack of static electricity sparking from your hair as it's pulled through the collar in your ears. His hand gently rests your head back down on the pillow. You whine again and try to cover your bare chest with your small hands. He notices and pulls them away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he reassures, mistaking your modesty for insecurity. He’s lying on top of you now, chest to chest. The heat of his bare skin as he presses into you, his hands tracing the shape of your waist and hips. He seems to be mesmerized.

“We can’t-” you want to scream, but even you aren’t sure your thoughts matched what came out of your mouth. Your hands try to push him off of you, but he’s too solid, too in control. When that doesn’t work, you slap his chest, but you don’t really feel the impact on your palm. You’re too numb. He grabs your wrist.

“I don’t use my hands to harm and you won’t either.” He says this firmly, eyes locked on yours, but follows up with, “Behave or I’ll have to tie you up so you don’t hurt yourself.” The latter comes out softer, more timid like the Peter you know.

His head dips down as he places sloppy, unpracticed open mouth kisses on your neck and shoulder. Quickly this turns into full sucking. You angle your chin to the side, scanning your nightstand for something, anything to help you. You eye a book, hardcover, heavy hand reaching up to grab for it. Maybe you can hit him hard enough to buy time.

Peter catches your movement and lets out an irritated, though shaky, sigh as it leaves his lips. “What did I say?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, silver device. He grabs both of your arms and places each palm on an iron bar on the headboard before a white, sticky, material shoots from it and seals your hands to it. You pull, but they don’t budge. He tosses it aside and slides down your body as you fight against your restraints.

The cool air brushes against you where your panties were. Vision unfocused, try to reconcile the split image of him and merge it into one. It’s dim in here, but it looks like he has your panties in his fingers as he tosses them aside. He lowers himself to his forearms, eyes never leaving your face. Or you think he’s looking at your face.

His nose brushes against your slit, tentatively, as you flinch. Your tongue is motionless in your mouth, but feels swollen, like it will suffocate you. All the things you want to say are being swallowed in your constricted throat.

His tongue pokes out as you manage to shake your head a fraction bit side to side. It probes your folds, uncertain. It takes him a few attempts, but he seems to find a technique he likes. The flat of his tongue swiping up as he breaks eye contact and his eyes roll back, indulged in the taste of you.

The sight of him enthralled in your most delicate region forces a squeak from you. His eyes snap open and his hands grip your hips a bit harder as he dives his mouth onto you. Seemingly encouraged by your noises and movements.

“You taste so good, baby.” He says, breathless, before he dives back in. Suddenly, his mouth finds your clit and he flicks his tongue against it hard. It’s too much pressure and it has you wriggling, brow furrowed.

He seems to notice this, because he modifies and begins sucking on your clit instead. A shock wave is sent through you, your hips angle up to meet his mouth eagerly. Taking this as a sign to continue, he inserts two fingers inside you, stretching your hole.

Quivering, you try to fight off the orgasm building, thighs clenching his head. He seems superhuman as his fingers never cease their rhythmic curling inside you and his mouth sucks the life from you. Whatever he gave you makes it impossible for you to take deep breaths and the orgasm that drenches your body in sweat steals the air from your lungs. He slows his motions as you ride his fingers and mouth before slowly removing both from you.

He seems proud of himself as he says, “I’ve always wanted to do that to you.” It’s almost endearing, but then you remember you’re drugged and bound.

Stalking you like the prey you are, he crawls up your body and slides his pants and briefs off his hips. He’s already hard as you try to focus your vision on him. Unable to tell how thick he is, you wonder if it will hurt. Perhaps if he caused you pain, your body would snap and find the adrenaline you need to get away. You pull against the bars again, hoping to break free. In the very least, your head lulls side to side in protest.

“I didn’t bring a condom, but we don’t need to worry about that. I’ll always take care of you.” He says, his forearm resting next to your head while his other hand reaches down, lining himself up with you. He pushes forward, breaching your entrance. Removing his hand, it moves to cup your head in his hand, sound muffled as he presses his palm hard against your skull.

Unable to move your head as he cradles it, your eyes flutter, unable to make him out clearly. His eyes penetrate yours, his eyes a deeper brown than you noticed before. His lips are parted as he catches his breath.

He slowly pushes forward, inch by inch. Your wet channel stretches and forms to him as he slips inside you. Despite the heaviness in your limbs and numbing to your skin, you can feel how your body accommodates him. The feeling of him is amplified by his heavy breathing in your ear as he pulls back and slams back into you.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” You try to tune him out, the only thing you really focus on is the wet sound of your slick as he draws more from you. Your body operates on sensation alone and all you can feel is him. He finds a rhythm that seems inhumanly fast as his hips push yours into the mattress harder and harder.

He presses his chest against yours again and you can’t tell whose body temperature is higher. The desire within you builds. Fighting through the haze, you cry out, spine arching off the bed. The fabric is damp beneath your hips and you wish you could be embarrassed by it.

Both of your breaths grow louder, more frantic. On particular thrusts when he tilts his hips. the tick of his cock angles up to hit your g spot, you let out a moan. Encouraged by this, the corner of his mouth lifts into a cocky smile.

“Louder, baby.” He commands breathlessly, seeming to find his courage.

He lifts his chest from yours and kneels, his hands lifting your hips up with him, your ass no longer on the bed. Grabbing for your ankles, hooking your heels over his brawny shoulders, he slams back into you. His forearm wraps around your shins, holding them in place while his opposite fingers find your sensitive clit. Letting out breathless gasps, you can’t catch your breath or restrain your vocal cords. He continues plowing into you, fingers rubbing diagonally, frantically, against you.

“Come for me, Y/N. Soak my cock.” Something about this version of Peter, this feral side of the sweet delivery guy you thought you knew, makes you come again. Eyes rolling back, your lids closing as his hips become frantic. He squeezes your legs like a lifeline as he comes inside you, a loud grunt from above you.

He pulls out of you and lowers your hips to the bed. The euphoria sets in and your taught muscles relax into the bed. Leaning over you and he connects his nose with yours as he catches his breath. You’re both hot, a thin layer of sweat over your skin, but that could be from whatever he gave you. Your shoulders are stiff and you try to tug again on the headboard.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “those will dissolve soon.”

Abruptly, he gets up, wiping his cock against the inside of your panties, before he slips them back on and settles them on your hips. His come drips out of you and into the panties, keeping you wet and reminded of him. How did this happen? You never let anyone inside the safety of your home.

Moments pass as you process this. Faintly, you hear his feet on the carpet before he’s back in your room, sipping on the soda he brought you.

“Thirsty?” He asks and angles the straw to your mouth.

“My shoulders hurt,” you murmur out.

“Then next time don’t fight me. I think you understand that now, don’t you?”

Even without touching you, he is still inside of you. There is a faint pulsing from your clit that radiates down to the soles of your feet. Rhythmic and matches your pulse as you come down. Your arms and thighs goosebump from the chill in the air and you can feel the balloon in your head deflate. But you’re still unable to respond to him so you lie there, surrendering to his power over you.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #peter parker #spider-man #inappropriate use of web slinger #dark fic

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grelleswife · 2 years

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Since Alois can get emotional quickly and all. Does Alois ever get jealous of Claude and his spiders? Does Alois try to destroy them in a fit of rage just to get Claude's attention or does Alois think of the spiders as weird cousins?

(Pertaining to this AU)

Content warning for mentions of animal cruelty, since squishing spiders isn’t exactly a nice thing to do.

I envision Alois as the type of kid who’d love spiders, bugs, and other creepy-crawlies, acting completely fearless around them. He and Luka used to play with critters like that because they didn’t have any other animals they could keep as pets.

However, early in the contract, Alois viewed fanon!Claude’s spiders as a threat because he perceived them as diverting the demon’s focus away from him. This wasn’t actually the case, but Alois’s deep-seated fear of abandonment turned the innocuous little spiders into something of a bogeyman.

This all came to a head one day when Alois was in a particularly bad headspace, which led him to badger Claude that whole morning with a nonstop list of tasks and demands. When the frazzled demon finally got a break, he took one of his tarantulas out of its hiding place in his sleeve and held it in his palm, smiling at the darling creature. Unfortunately, Alois had gone looking for Claude and stumbled upon this scene…promptly flying into a rage.

The boy began screaming at his demon—how dare Claude waste time playing with some ugly stupid spider when he was Alois’s butler?!

“I’ll teach you not to ignore me!!!” the boy screamed, snatching the hapless tarantula out of Claude’s hand, flinging it to the floor, and stomping it into a pulp on the carpet. Even in moments of distress, Claude is rarely demonstrative, but his face went blank with shock at seeing one of his beloved arachnids arbitrarily killed in such a fashion. Realizing what he’d done, Alois burst into tears and fled from the room.

In the aftermath, Faustus carefully cleaned up the spider’s remains and did his best to give them a proper burial, though he couldn’t stop himself from shaking. This was one of the moments when he fully realized the potential horrors of being at a mortal child’s beck and call—powerless to stop their whims even when they turned cruel. And of course, he was devastated by this unexpected loss. But he also wondered whether he really made Alois feel that neglected. He’d successfully completed contracts before this…but never one that involved a human youngling. Was Claude doomed to fail as a Trancy butler?

Meanwhile, Alois had stormed out of the manor and started heedlessly running through the grounds, besieged by guilt. Why had he done that to a spider that wasn’t hurting anybody? What if Claude hated him forever and ever or…or just left?! He had to fix this! Maybe he could find a different spider to give to his demon as a peace offering? Thus, Alois recklessly dashed into the nearby woods, ignoring the ominous storm clouds looming above.

It didn’t take the Trancy demons long to realize that His Highness had gone missing, right as a deluge began pouring down upon the manor. Although rightfully upset over what had happened to his spider, Claude was deeply worried about Alois’s whereabouts, as was Hannah. With the triplets in tow, they set out looking for him posthaste.

Shortly thereafter, Faustus heard a plaintive voice brokenly calling his name.

“C-Claude…” Alois whimpered, tears mingling with the rainwater that trickled down his cheeks.

The boy sat huddled under a tree, knees hugged tight against his chest, soaking wet and utterly miserable. He hadn’t been able to find another spider…no one was coming for him…he was awful, awful…

But then the five demons rushed to the scene, and Claude knelt in front of the tiny, pitiful figure.

“Your Highness…” he started to say, only for Alois to look up in incredulous relief, start crying harder than ever, and throw his arms around Claude’s neck, sobbing that he was sorry and that he’d never do anything mean to the butler’s spiders ever again…

The demon gently picked him up, expression softening just a tad.

“Let’s get you home. You must be freezing.”

A nice warm bath, a soft set of nightclothes, a bowl of soup, and several more tearful apologies later, Alois rested peacefully in bed, curled up with his demons (a bit like dogs might snuggle with their owner), Claude’s arm protectively wrapped around him.

Going forward, Hannah took Claude aside and suggested that he ask Alois to help him feed/take care of the spiders, or show the boy how to teach them tricks. That way, tending to the little guys could become a bonding activity for demon and master, rather than something that made Alois feel jealous or ignored. This plan worked like a charm. Now, Alois is fast friends with Claude’s eight-legged sidekicks. He can easily tell them apart and knows all of their names. Sometimes, if a party being hosted at Trancy manor is getting rather dull, he and Claude release the spiders into the crowd to cause mischief…much to their mutual amusement. 😈🕷

#kuro asks #kuroshitsuji #alois trancy #claude faustus #tw animal cruelty #tw arachnophobia

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sanghyukstattoos · 3 years

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Care

Summary: Almost any day now.

Genre: crime au; fluff-fluff; smut-smut-smut (spanking and submissive behaviour, amongst others)

Characters: B.I I Kim Hanbin x reader x Bobby I Kim Jiwon

A/N: None of the images in the collage are mine, please refer to here for more; For SF9 writings, read here and for iKON, read here~~

The place is a motel, straight out of an American movie. You would not see a place like this anywhere else in the world, or even visit one for that matter. But he had insisted. He brought you here, on a whim, spontaneously. The bed is fine, less than clean but not dirty either. Upon first glance, the place is retro. ''Out of an American movie'', you had said out loud. He chuckled, ''I guess it is.''

Now he is balls deep in you. Caressing your side, in a soothing manner, soothing your cries and whimpers because of the stretch he causes. But it's more than that. The cries of his name that fall from your lips is because of how he pleasures you. Surges of arousal rocks you to and from. With every touch he fills you.

Hot and cavernous are his kisses. You only lean away for breath. Ironic that it has to be something so intimate to occur in such a setting. With every kiss, your hot cries are muffled, like he wants you all to himself. So that no one else can hear you. It is the small space between the two of you, within which all the sounds of resulting pleasure come from, that cultivates such precious memories.

Maybe it was the thrill of running away. From the police you were running, gasping for breath. You wonder if you are going to go to jail. That can not happen. There was conflict of the mind. You were scared, when you were running through the barbed-wired gates but for a brief moment, you looked at the two of them and laughed. Such a weird moment it was; you can't stop thinking about it.

''Let's play some music'' he had said. As he kissed your collarbone and fluttered down your breasts, taking a perk bud into his mouth, hot and heavily, music played through the speaker. In between fast- paced and slow-paced, regular maybe, it played in the background. It was like nature, enough to leave an impression but also enough to pass by.

Hanbin sucked on the skin above your breasts, skirting the area with the warm touch of his lips, his mouth doing it's dirty work. He loves tasting you, the smell of your skin would embrace him too, in this act. Without Jiwon. The atmosphere is different, more serious. With Jiwon it would be light, some jokes would be thrown around. Where is Jiwon?

Out taking a risk. He could be caught. You and Hanbin are here, without a care in the world. Finish what you start. A couple of thoughts are involved in this. He absolutely needs to be naked with you, to let go of all his worries. Motivated by his concerns about the three of you getting caught by the police? High off adrenaline? Whatever it is, you push him on his back, straddling him with a bright smile.

Moans and groans ensue from the man underneath you, whose chest you have your hands roam on, freely. Exploring. Your mouth falls open, jaw slacks when you sink onto his hard cock, circling your hips. The two of you are way past any concerns at this point. He caresses your backside, kneading the flesh in his hand.

You fall forward, on his chest. He slapped your backside, rather harshly, eliciting a moan from you. Anything he does would be pleasurable to you right now. Not less than twenty minutes later, Jiwon comes back. Flash of fear radiates throughout your chest. Your first instinct is to freeze but Hanbin's isn't. He covers you with his body, shielding you from view.

You look like you are caught. You can not see much but you relax. It's Jiwon's chuckle, ''You guys are doing this? Go on, it's not like I haven't seen her naked before.''. You mumble something for Jiwon to shut up, which he laughs at, ruffling your hair before dropping off the groceries on the table.

''Shit you scared me man.'' Hanbin murmurs, ''Plus, we were done, just cuddling.'', he motions, wincing as he slips out of you and into his jeans. You lay on the bed for some time, contemplating, looking outside with your limbs splayed all over the sheets. In a moment, you find them in the bathroom.

Jiwon is freshening up, all his clothes removed, hastily placed on the counter. He only wears his boxers. You grab your shirt from the side, putting it on. Jiwon momentarily loses his train of thought when he glances at you. ''What was I saying? Ah'' was what he said, welcoming you with a hug.

The conversation stops short. He hugs you, in relief, I'm back, so to say. He nuzzles himself in your hair, breathing in the scent of home, what it smells like. Committing it to memory just in case he does not come back anymore. Hanbin looks up from his phone, smiling at the two of you. It can not be the same without either of you or something like that, he thinks.

''What happened?'' you ask in the embrace with Jiwon. It sparks a need from him, he's open to the idea since there's a bed big enough to fit the three of you out there. He needs you, but not now. He has something to tell you first.

''Let's get out of here first.'' he motions to the bed that makes up for most of the room.

Hanbin doesn't say anything, he follows you out into the room. ''We have time, we can stay here for sometime. Unless the two of you want to get out of here, which is perfectly fine by me. Actually, I think we should move.'', Jiwon looks out the room, confirming his idea.

Hanbin seats you in between his legs, his chest touching your back and opposite Jiwon who is close enough to touch your knees. He rubs your sides, blowing out air in nervousness. He tries to keep calm. He can't lose his calm now, especially not in front of the two of you. Shit like that is contagious.

''Where should we move?'' Hanbin asks. This has to be thought out carefully. Choices have to be rationalised right now. The more choices the better, but then it would feel as if it was wrong, like this can't be right.

After that conversation, Jiwon takes the two of you to the pool he found earlier. To relax. You feel that he's doing this because you won't be able to rest, maybe for a really long time. Jiwon thinks hard to himself that he wants the three of you to be together. More peacefully as compared to the situation that you currently are in. Maybe in a foreign country, relaxing on the beachside, something like that.

He'll make sure that it happens, just the three of you. He knows that you aren't one for settling down but it's better than going to jail. That's how it is at this point. Alone would endanger you with no help and three is a support but easy to pick off when together. Stuck. Perception?.

He's on the other side of the pool, waddling his legs and leaning against the granite wall. The pool is blue, brightly so. Sun shines throughout the whole area. Hanbin is at the opposite end; you are swimming towards Jiwon. You took off your t-shirt earlier. You are naked right now. What can Jiwon do?. He knows that this was perfect.

Jiwon reaches out for you as do you for him. He switches so that it's you against the wall. You already know how this will play out. But every time is a new experience. Of experience but new? Fresh is the optimal word. You kiss him lightly, giggling some and laughing some.

He reached for your sex, easing a finger or two in without warning. His groin stirs at the scenario. You were already wet from having sex with Hanbin, he had eased you up. But like this? You must have been ready for a second round. You would have done so if Jiwon hadn't come back then.

If he was more than a second late, he would have seen Hanbin ramming your pretty ass into the creaking bed, without a care that the bed should be intact because it's the only one you have. For three people. He could have joined in. But now he had you all to himself. He turns you around, telling you to place your hands on the wall.

You do so excitedly, he can see the flush on your cheeks at his suggestion. ''From the back?'', you ask even though you know. He hums, placing a kiss on your neck, pumping himself a few times before he sinks into your warmth. God, it is glorious. He is lost for words. The feeling of relief after a long day spent running and what not. He always had the energy to do this with you.

He rocks you against the edge of the pool, shifting the water in waves. Hanbin doesn't watch for the first half, but he can hear. And his cock grows hard when he hears. Especially what you say about Jiwon's dick and how it is like an intrusion between your legs. Fuck, he thinks. You cry out in pleasure, like you had moments ago, cutting off your speech short.

It is how hard you were holding onto the edge, grasping the granite, moaning out like the mess you were. Jiwon noticed the red print, like a shake darker than it should have been. The mark on your backside, made by Hanbin. He grits his teeth at that instant. He pulls you back by the neck, asking, ''What were you and Hanbin up to when I was gone huh?''.

His tone is punishing and you know where this is going. You are about to love this. He takes your silence as disobedience. He lets go of your neck, letting you fall back to the edges. Jiwon forces you straight when he fists your hair, printing your backside red. Tears rim your eyes. You will find it hard to sit afterwards.

Jiwon is angry. Unsuccessfully, he had pushed it away earlier. By going out, he was risking his life, your relationship. He could have been caught. But he walked in to see the two of you having the time of your life, of course, it angered him. And this is how it was coming out. Frustration.

He hits till you cry out for him to stop. He goes much more slowly then. He caresses your tummy, avoiding your sore spot altogether, asking, ''You okay? Do you want me to stop?''. You sniff, finding him peering at you with those inquisitive eyes, always inquisitive.

You disagree and he continues on, till he rips your release out of you. Before you can slump, Hanbin catches you, sliding in front of you. You lean on his chest. Jiwon kisses you, leaving the pool. You pull him back, ''Where are you going?''. He kisses your hand, meeting your smile, ''I'll be back.''.

You are a little tired, not by much. Hanbin holds you till Jiwon comes back, with a bottle of lube and a condom. ''Huh?'' you murmur, realising that you are not done, at least not yet. Jiwon slips back into the pool, the warm body of water enveloping his figure.

Two different people, two different scenarios. Perhaps not all the resources are available but you have time. Enough to let both of them fill you up before you leave for the open road.

#ikon #ikon scenarios #ikon imagines #ikon smut #ikon fanfic #ikon writings #ikon ikonic #ikon oneshots #ikon angst #ikon au #ikon fluff #ikon x reader #ikon bobby #kim jiwon #ikon b.i #kim hanbin

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petri808 · 3 years

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1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Inukag Royalty AU

“I see that,” the King chuckled, gathering the child into his arms. He looked at Kagome. “And who have you brought Rin?”

While Rin was all happy smiles, Kagome immediately went on edge. Of all the people to see first, the King himself! She was not prepared whatsoever to meet the Inutaisho, but she bit down and hid her rising anxiety, pulling on all those years of putting on a false expression to get through important meetings. All she had to do was get through this encounter. Bring the girl home safely, go through some pleasantries, and be on her way.

“She found me in the market when I got lost. Can we keep her papa?”

Kagome’s heart stopped. ‘Wait what?!’ Did Rin just say what she thought she’d said?!

Again, the male laughed. “Well, we’ll have to see.”

“Papa, she can be my new attendant. Please! She’s so much nicer than the other one.”

“Oh?” The man turned back to Kagome. “Thank you for assisting my granddaughter, miss?”

Thinking quickly. “Kagome Tanaka,” she bowed. “And the pleasure was mine. The Princess was a joy to talk to.”

“Miss Tanaka, are you from around here?”

“I’m from a small village on the outskirts of the kingdom.”

“Her mom and dad are dead like mine, so she needs a new job.” Rin chimed in.

“Is that true?” He questioned.

“Yes. It’s why I came to the city thinking I’d have a better chance to find one. I actually just arrived this morning when I came across the Princess.”

“I see. Then tell me do you have any qualifications to be a Lady in Waiting?”

“I believe so your majesty. My mother schooled me in all the main subjects. Language, arts, history, literature, and such, so I’d hoped to find a tutoring position with a noble family here.”

“How interesting.” The King put Rin down. “For such a coincidence.”

Startled, Kagome bowed low again. “I swear it was never intended your majesty.” She didn’t want the king to think she’d targeted Rin for a nefarious reason. “My only intentions were to make sure she got home safely.”

He waved his hand with a chuckle. “I believe you. Our Rin here is very determined and she must have taken a genuine liking to you. But the decision is up to her father, my son to make.” The King then turned to his granddaughter. “Why don’t I wait here with miss Tanaka, and you go and fetch your father?”

“Okay!” Rin skipped merrily away on her mission. “I’ll be back quick!”

“While we wait, tell me more about yourself miss Tanaka. For starters, it is unusual for a commoner to be educated.”

“Oh… as a young girl my mother was a nanny for a noble house and as her ward was tutored, she herself learned things. She told me she loved learning so much that she took every opportunity she could to read and spent her off times in that family’s library. After marriage and having me, she took it upon herself to make sure I was educated because she wanted me to have a better life.”

“She sounds like a good mother.”

“I miss her dearly and only hope that one day I’ll be as good a mother as she was.”

“Your instincts have already shown through when you saw a lost child and decided to help her.”

Kagome blushed. “Thank you, your majesty for your kind words.”

They chatted for only a couple more minutes by the time Rin came back holding the hand of a tall, very statuesque male. Her father looked a lot like the King except his hair was free flowing and he had a crescent moon on his forehead. Another glaring difference was in demeanor. While the King was very pleasant from the get-go, Rin’s father wore an irritated expression. The child had mentioned that he scared people, and now Kagome could see why.

“That’s her, papa!” Rin pointed at Kagome. “She’s the one I want to be my attendant.”

“Miss Tanaka,” the King gestured, “this is my son Prince Sesshomaru.”

Kagome bowed to the Prince. “It’s nice to meet you, your highness.”

The Prince looked down, fixing Kagome in a stare as he spoke. “My daughter tells me you found her lost in the market?”

“Yes, your royal highness.”

“I’ve spoken with Miss Tanaka, and she appears to have all of the qualifications needed for the position.” The King tells his son. “I would approve, but the decision is yours.”

“Please, daddy!” Rin pulled on her father’s hand. “She’s really, really nice! I really like her!”

The Prince barely showed any reaction to his child’s whims, so it was hard to discern what he was thinking. Kagome just continued to stand there silently and demure as possible while he stared straight at her. It was nerve wracking!

Finally, the man spoke. “Very well. The royal steward will prepare a room for you.” He then gave a slight nod to his father and left the room leaving his child practically bouncing with excitement.

The moment Sesshomaru turned his back, Kagome let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in. His intensity was a force all its own and she had no idea how Rin could be so mellow to it. Yet the child was completely oblivious and seemed to have the man wrapped around her fingers. He didn’t even question anything.

The king chuckled. “Rin, why don’t you show Ms. Tanaka around while things are taken care of.”

“Okay papa!” Rin grabbed Kagome’s hand and started pulling her away. “I’ll show you all the cool parts in the palace! Then we can hang out in my room.”

“It was nice to meet you, your majesty.” Kagome tried and failed to bow properly while being yanked away to the chuckling amusement of the King.

They spent much of the afternoon walking around the palace, inside and out with Rin playing the excitable tour guide introducing Kagome to everyone. It was a typical sized palace from what she could see, though the styling is what differed from her own. Several private rooms and guest rooms, administrative type rooms, entertaining rooms, etc. But the one she knew instantly she’d be spending a considerable time in would be the library. Oh, the texts that room held were simply amazing! So many ancient documents dating back hundreds or perhaps thousands of years! It’ll be wonderful to take a book and read it in the lovely garden on a nice sunny day.

As the afternoon sun dipped closer to the horizon, the royal steward found the pair in Rin’s room chatting quietly about a storybook they’d found in the library. Myouga was the older man’s name and he explained to Kagome her duties under the official role of the Lady in Waiting to the Princess. She was the child’s tutor in all areas of education and would accompany the girl any time she left the castle grounds or as needed by the Princess. All of her food, shelter, and personal needs including attire would be furnished by the kingdom along with a small stipend. The same bedchamber maids that attended to Princess Rin’s laundry and cleaning would also take care of hers.

“The former attendants room has been prepared for you Miss. Tanaka. It is the next room over. Your clothes for dinner has already been laid out on your vanity by the bedchamber maid. I trust we chose the correct size for you. Tomorrow, I shall have one of the royal guards take you to the royal seamstress to set you up properly.”

“Thank you, Mr. Myouga. I understand. I just have one question. Before meeting Rin in the marketplace, I’d boarded my horse and meager belongings at the Umagoya. I’d like to retrieve them. My horse is very precious to me.”

“Certainly. See the palace stable hand and he’ll accompany you to retrieve your horse to take it back to the stables.”

Once the man left them alone, they followed his instructions of taking the stable hand into town with them to hand off the horse. It would have been nice if she could spend more time with the stead to get him adjusted, but they needed to get ready for dinner. So, Kagome promised Rin they’d visit Buyo in the stables the next day. When they arrived back at their rooms, two bedchamber maids were waiting, one for each other them.

Kagome patted the hand she held of Rin’s. “I’ll fetch you once I’ve changed, okay?”

“Yup!” Rin hugged Kagome before skipping towards her room.

The white dress with red, orange, and pink accents presented to Kagome was a bit more extravagant than she’d expected to be given to a simple attendant. It was elegant and form fitting from the bust down to the floor, with a slit running down the side of the skirt from mid-thigh to allow for easier movement. The top half was full sleeved, mid-collared, with knotted button closures running down the front until it reached mid-chest. She’d noticed this outfit resembled the same style worn by other nobles and royals in the palace, but not the commoners who wore much simpler outfits. And while not mentioned yet, the colors were also a theme associated with the royal family. It was very different from what people wore back home in her kingdom, but the style was beautiful to Kagome. Aside from the dress, the bedchamber also re-did her hair, adding accessories befitting the dress as well as makeup. Kagome was glad to see it was done with a natural tone and not too gaudy. She never did like being made up to look like a doll. It was a bit odd to her that she’d be dining with the royal family, but again she assumed it was because of Rin’s age and excitable nature. The child was young and having her attendant present necessary so the adults could go about their business. It was nice though, that they included the child. Kagome chuckled inwardly as she thought about the two royal members she’d met so far. The Prince did not seem to even care about a child being around yet must have a heart to have adopted Rin in the first place.

The bedchamber provided information on other dynamics of the royal household so that she wouldn’t ask the wrong questions. According to the woman, the Inutaisho had two queens. The primary Queen was Prince Sesshomaru’s mother through an arranged marriage. It was a loveless marriage, so once she’d fulfilled her obligation of providing a son, she was allowed to live away in her own royal villa in the countryside. It was a few years later when the Inutaisho met a human Princess in another kingdom, fell in love, and took her as a second Queen. She too bore a son, half yokai, half human named Prince Inuyasha. Prince Sesshomaru was married but he and Princess Kagura had yet to produce an offspring of their own. Rin, again according to the woman was an orphaned daughter of a highly respected human general in the army who despite his ornery disposition really gravitated to the Prince. That affection grew on the Prince until he’d decided to simply adopt the child as his own. It was a really nice story and showed maybe first impressions are not always accurate.

“Good evening Ms. Tanaka,” Inutaisho welcomed Kagome as she sat beside Rin at the large dining table. “I trust your accommodations are amenable?”

“Very much so, your majesty. Thank you very much. Your palace is very beautiful.”

The king chuckled. “Is there any room in the palace you liked the most?”

“The library,” Kagome responded. “All the old texts are quite amazing to see gathered in one place.”

“Ah yes.” He smiled. “There is much history held in that room.”

Prince Sesshomaru and his wife Princess Kagura arrived shortly, and Rin introduced Kagome to her mother. Kagura was just as statuesque as her husband, a poised beauty befitting a future Queen. Servants puttered about setting out appetizers before the first course coming in a few minutes. So, in the meantime, Kagome and Kagura chatted about Rin’s schedule. The woman was happy to see her adopted daughter so happy because the child never got along with the last attendant, regardless of how highly recommended the woman had been.

“Ah!” The King suddenly stood up. “There’s my Queen.”

Kagome stopped talking to look at who the man was talking about and saw another gorgeous woman walking towards him. The Queen was definitely human, with long raven hair pinned back away from her face, and flowing dress of the royal color schemes. They were adorable to Kagome, how the Inutaisho greeted her and helped her into her chair. Royals were often assumed to be haughty, proud, and snobbish but it could be quite the contrary as evident in the Inutaisho’s caring nature. Kagome was certain that, if necessary, the man could be a very imposing figure indeed, but with loved ones no different than any other, human or yokai.

The King introduced Kagome to his wife. “This is Queen Izayoi.”

Kagome stood up and bowed. “I’m pleased to meet you, your majesty.”

“I’m pleased to meet you too, Ms. Tanaka, I’ve heard a lot about you from my husband. Thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.”

“You’re too kind,” Kagome bowed again.

“I’m certain you— Oh,” the Queen cut short and focused he’d gaze past Kagome. “You made it, my son.”

‘Son?’ Kagome turned to see who the Queen was talking about. ‘Oh… wow…’

“Inuyasha, come meet your niece’s new Lady in Waiting, Ms. Tanaka.”

#inukag #inukag fan fic #inukag au #inukag fan fiction #inuyasha #kagome higurashi #royalty au #the irony of fate #ch 2 #petri808

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can i have some angst and fluff? soulmate AU where Rung, Drift, Rodimus and Swerve´s soulmate rejects them and some time later after the Lost light launch, (not human) Alien joins the Lost Light and their soulmate is the bot in question? And they would love to pamper them to pieces but are understanding of the situation. Thanks! (Also sorry for my bad English)

It just occurred to me... I've never really done anything with soulmates before! I think I get the basics of your request though, so here it goes! (Don't worry, your English is fine!)

Rung

·Being rejected by the one he'd supposedly been intended to spend eternity with had cut him to his core. In his spark, he'd taken it as a sign he was indeed forgettable, perhaps doomed to be alone and insignificant for the rest of his days. After all, if his soulmate didn't want him, who would? He'd buried the pain like so many others for eons afterwards. Every time someone got his name wrong though, he'd think back to that rejection. What could possibly be so wrong with him, that no one could remember he was there? Was he truly so unremarkable?

·You had joined the Lost Light more or less on a whim, with the hope of meeting your soulmate always at the back of your mind. In such a massive universe, perhaps you needed to look for them instead of hoping they'd come for you. It had been almost comedic when you'd run into the shy phsychiatrist and realized he was the one on your first day. Rung had been shocked at the revelation, but quickly became quiet and almost... grieved. At your gentle prompting he'd softly explained what had happened to him, and you'd been heartbroken for his sake. Though wanting so badly to commit to him right there, you'd made it clear you understood, especially when he explained he just wanted time. He certainly didn't want you to think he was rejecting you.

·Thus, things had proceeded slowly. While you wanted so badly to jump into a relationship, having him beside you as you got to know him was enough for now. Just seeing your willingness to get to know him had brought about a slow change in the timid mech. Every day he got a little brighter, as if his optics shone with greater zeal at your continued presence. Truthfully it hurt to see how little he cared for himself. Yet, by being there day after day, you slowly brought him around to the idea he was more than memorable. To you, he was unforgettable.

Drift

·His rejection had occurred, quite painfully, not long after he'd changed his ways. The loss of his soulmate at that time had nearly sent him into a spiral. What greater clue could the universe give him that he was irredeemable? Their rejection surely meant he was doomed to be alone, for even if he had friends, he'd never have the love he'd dreamed of his whole life. Eventually he'd accepted it only under the misguided belief that such pain was a part of his "penance", and that he surely deserved it for everything he'd done.

·You'd been on the Lost Light a little while before meeting Drift, but knew him by reputation already when you had your first encounter, one that surprised you for multiple reasons. First was that anyone could have anything against the bright and happy bot you were surprised to learn was the "evil" former Decepticon everyone warned you about. Second, to the greatest of shocks, was that he was your soulmate. Your delight had only been tarnished by his expression of pain at the revelation, and after leading you somewhere private he'd shared his story, including how he couldn't possibly deserve love after everything he'd been through. Surely you deserved better...

·Even having only just met him, you'd been certain that Drift didn't deserve the self admonishment he was giving himself. Refusing to let him tear himself down but understanding of his trauma, you made it clear you wouldn't rush but wanted to spend time with him regardless. Wanting to continue his self imposed exclusion but too lonely to refuse you, he accepts on the grounds you start as friends, and while you want so badly to shower him with affection you accept. It's only by going slowly that you begin to open him up to the idea of love again, convincing him bit by bit that he can indeed be forgiven and cherished as he deserves. Time and patience slowly heal his wounds thanks to you.

Rodimus

·Not a stranger to pain, Rodimus nevertheless doubted any agony had ever cut as close as the dismissal from his soulmate, and the blow to his confidence still lingers with striking intensity. If he cared to reflect on the pain, he'd see the gaping hole in his self confidence comes largely from the untended trauma of the rejection. Instead he's simply given up on finding love and chooses to seek other ways to heal, but as he doesn't address the initial cause of his pain, none of his considerable accomplishments quell the agony. Eventually he begins to accept that nothing will make him feel whole again.

·Though you'd of course heard of the Lost Light and it's now famous captain, it hadn't been until you were actually on the ship itself for a few weeks that you'd met him. He'd immediately proven himself to be an energetic, likable bot with a lot of personality, and you'd been beyond happy when he'd proven to be your soulmate. Said happiness had been put on hold at his expression of pain upon hearing the news, but he'd quickly put a smile back on until the two of you were alone together. Breaking down in private, he'd told you of his soulmate and how he had never been able to make up for being such a failure they never wanted him. Having only just met him, you're fast to reassure Rodimus that he's anything but a failure, and that you already can see that even if they couldn't. It takes time, but soon you convince him to open his spark again and give you a chance.

·With the pain of old injuries still so tender, he's slow to let you in. At first he seems to believe you'll abandon him at any moment, or for even the smallest transgressions. It's only with a great deal of reasurance you convince him you're here to stay. The love you show him begins to also make him believe he's worth something once more, and he starts to see all he's accomplished as something to celebrate. Every day there's progress, and while it's hard for you at times, seeing him come around to realize his own self worth is all it takes to convince you to keep going.

Swerve

·Always having had a hard time making friends, he'd long looked forward to meeting his soulmate, having believed that upon doing so the loneliness he'd endured would finally be over. Their rejection had shattered that dream along with any hope he had of ever knowing what it was to belong. After recovering just enough to keep going, he'd put on a happy mask in the aftermath, hoping that if he convinced others he was okay he might convince himself. It never worked, not really. Others did indeed see him as the happy goofball, but he never forgot the pain of that horrible day. Often he wondered if he might as well just give up...

·Upon taking a chance and joining the Lost Light, you'd been overwhelmed by the rush of friend groups so well established you wondered how you'd ever fit in. Thankfully there had been a few helpful bots to suggest you hit the bar and talk to Swerve, as he knew everyone and could steer you in the right direction. You'd found the chat happy barkeep to be a delight straight away, which had only made you that much happier to find he was your soulmate, as you'd always wanted someone with an appreciation for the happier things. It had made you so terribly sad to see him break down in the back of the bar, his tears pouring forth just as readily as the story of his long ago rejection and how he doubted you wanted him considering what he was under his happy mask. You'd gone straight to comforting the minibot. Regardless of his past, you assured him, you at least wanted to get to know the bot everyone on the Lost Light considered their favorite. Perhaps it was foolish of him, but you'd indeed struck a tiny bit of hope remaining in his spark. He simply couldn't say no altogether.

·Bit by bit, you encouraged him to see the worth you knew he had. The bot who tended the bar was the heart of the ship in your eyes, and though you wanted so badly to love him and be loved back, for now you were content getting him to see the truth. Your tireless enthusiasm at first just baffled him. What could he have possibly done to deserve a second chance with someone so wonderful and supportive? It wasn't until some time had passed that he realized you were indeed having an impact on him. Slowly he began to see himself as someone worth knowing, and others began to happily notice the improvement as well. Eventually Swerve began to realize that no one was just humoring him, as he'd long feared, but that he was indeed a beloved crew member. Your patience finally made him see beyond the initial pain, and into a genuinely happy future.

#rung #drift #rodimus prime #swerve #transformers #maccadam #lostlight #lost light #idw #tf #ll #my writing #my asks #requests #soulmates #rung x reader #drift x reader #rodimus x reader #swerve x reader

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miscellaneous-bnha · 4 years

Text

Naga Aizawa AU

As requested by 🍄 anon.

Unfortunately, this is not a part of the Untitled AU (I’m sticking to calling it that even though I named it), but I’m really glad that I had a chance to write about Naga Aizawa anyway. 🍄 anon is my savior.

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THIS CONTENT CONTAINS OVIPOSITION, BREEDING, AND ONE (1) TIRED SNAKE MAN. DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ. ALSO, IT’S A LONG ONE.

- Aizawa as a Naga in general would be interesting.

- I can def see him sleeping all curled up in sun spots through the day, only really moving when he wants to.

- But then he becomes much more active at night, on the prowl for prey and potential threats to his territory.

- Unusual seeing how cold it can get at night, but effective for him seeing as he blended quite well into the dark with his midnight tail and markings.

- Regardless, as far as he’s concerned, nobody really has the guts to challenge him at this point.

- At least, that was until he met you.

- The scared little mouse that had lost their way into his territory.

- You had heard rumors of half snake people living in these parts, and you really weren’t trying to stray away from the path

- But it was like something in the forest itself was calling out to you.

- According to local legend, the voice of the forest would lead you to your soulmate so long as they were in the forest at the same time as you

- But as you were trembling under the gaze of the Naga before you, the legends felt like cruel, whispery lies to give you false hope

- Now was hardly the time to worry about that, however, considering he looked quite upset to have been interrupted.

- Before you could scramble back to your feet, he was upon you, coiled around you without actually touching you, making you feel trapped and small.

- “Hmmm....” the baritone of his voice sent a chill through you, half with fear and half with mild arousal. You cursed your ape brain silently, squeezing your body tighter.

- “What is a little mouse like you...” he finally touches you, tipping your head to look up at him with a finger under your chin, “.. doing so far away from the path. Hmm?”

- Your lips only tremble as you try to speak, but he presses a finger to your lips to keep you from attempting to speak anyway.

- “No matter... you’re quite lost now aren’t you?” you can only nod, refusing to tear your eyes away.

- You already know that you would never be able to react in time, but your instincts still tell you to keep your eyes locked on him.

- “I figured as much. Unfortunately for you—“ he points up to the darkening sky, “— the sun is going down, and you wouldn’t make it back to town at this rate even if you tried.”

- You swallowed hard, knowing he was right. Maybe the universe really is playing a cruel joke on you.

- He chuckles, running his hand through your hair and ruffling it.

- “Relax, you’re gonna be okay. Human isn’t my first, second, or third choice in food. I’ll bring you to my den to stay the night and lead you back to the trail tomorrow.”

- You squint hard, nose scrunching with doubt.

- “No need for such a sour face, little mouse. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it by now.” He winks, “Besides, people get lost all the time; the people of town already know who I am by this point.”

- You furrow your brows, but you suppose he was right. If he really did want to cause harm, you wouldn’t be here pondering the legitimacy of his words. It also made sense about how the village seemed to know of supernatural creatures such as Nagas in extreme detail.

- You figured that— worst case scenario— you were dead either way, and your best bet would be to go with the Naga for now.

- He watches you climb to your feet, shuffling a bit. “... That would be really great, thank you.”

- He smirks and blows a slight laugh out through his nose, unraveling his tail as he moves to lead the way. “Th’ name’s Shouta Aizawa, and who might you be?”

——————————

- You wake up the following morning to the sound of crashing thunder and heavy rain pouring outside his den.

- You rub your eyes blearily, bits and pieces of the night before slowly coming back to you.

- You remember following Aizawa to his den, keeping good on his promise not to eat you as you slept.

- The conversation as he led you through the darkening woods was really quite insightful; what kind of (snake?)person he is, what he does in the area. The kinds of goods he trades with the village nearby.

- You were shocked to learn that the forest doesn’t only serve as home for Nagas, but harpies, sirens, and elemental spirits too. “And those are just a few of the people I know.”

- Though he pretended to be annoyed with talking about his blond haired harpy and the pale-blue haired water spirit friends, the shine in his eye gave him away; he definitely cares a whole lot more than his demeanor suggests.

- It was endearing.

-But that was then and this is now, and “the now” meant you would be stuck in Aizawa’s den for a lot longer than originally intended.

- “It’s no problem,” he’d said once he caught sight of your worried face, “we have more than enough supplies to last us a good long while. Comfortably, if I might add.”

- At that point, you were worried less about supplies and more about the fact that you didn’t want to intrude. “If only I hadn’t wandered off the path...”

- “Hey now, no need to start thinking like that now. You never meant to get lost, and this sudden downpour certainly isn’t your fault—“ the glare he suddenly shot outside made you curious, “— so don't worry about it, yeah?”

- Except, by the fourth week of non-stop rain, it was safe to say you were concerned.

- Sure, it did lighten up to a measly drizzle here and there, but the muddy ground was too unstable to try and traverse without risk. The chances of causing a landslide was too great.

- So it was with a guilty— mostly because of your silent cheers with each rainy day you woke up to— heart you shared yet another cup of tea, lounging back within Aizawa’s coils.

- The two of you had grown particularly close in your time staying here. Though you were originally concerned about the state of your clothing, it turned out that Aizawa had quite the collection in case of situations like these

- So alas, the two of you spent the day chatting away as usual.

- He has been in the middle of telling a particularly interesting story when you suddenly found yourself zoning out at the slight stubble on his sharp jawline

- You supposed it really shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, seeing the ‘nature’ of his species, but you were surprised to see someone so inactive also be so amazingly fit at the same time.

- You don’t know when he had stopped talking, or when the two of you had started falling into each other’s gaze

- But you definitely felt the moment when your lips pressed against his. Starting as shy little pecks until he started to press deeper, coils shifting as he brought you closer to him

- Hands setting your drinks aside, you wrap your arms around his neck as he traps you between a comfortable crook in his tail and his body, his hands resting on your hips

- Your head starts to grow clouded the longer you kiss him, a slight tang similar to citrus but as sweet as candy hits your tongue and suddenly he’s pulling back

- His eyes are blown wide, but you can see the struggle on his features as he catches his breath

- “Shit..” he presses his face into your neck, “I shouldn’t have lost control like that... are you alright?”

- You’re confused by his statement. Surely, he was asking if you were okay with him kissing you, but somehow you knew that wasn’t really what he was asking

- Your thoughts start to wander a little as you start to feel a low burn settle deep in your belly, and you’re almost amused by the idea that Nagas do— in fact— have aphrodisiac properties in their venom

- You can almost tell the exact moment when your eyes become completely glossed over, wet with desire and clouded with need.

- “Fuck... I’m sorry. I should have been more aware. I’ll get some water to help flush out my venom-“ he pauses when he notices the unhappy furrow in your brow.

- “Do... do you not like me like that?” You blurt out before you can stop to think about it.

- he hesitates and you close your eyes, disappointment charging through you, but suddenly they’re open again when he coils around you tighter, chest crushing against your own as he presses his face into the side of your head

- “Of course I do... but I didn’t want it to go this way. I shouldn’t have stayed so close while in my rut like this.”

- “Your rut?”

- he nods solemnly, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair

- “It started some time about a week ago... when I first realized that I’m attracted to you... emotionally and physically.” He presses his nose to your temple and inhales deeply “But I’ve been tryna keep quiet about it... wanted to give you the choice to go if y’wanted.”

- You can hear his words start to slur together. “Y’can stay if y’want... but if y’don’t go now, I won’t be lettin’ ya go. At least not without me.”

- You’re already nodding before you can even think about it.

- “Of course I want to stay... if you’ll have me.”

- There’s a deep rumble reminiscent of a growl in his chest

- “Of course I’ll have you. There’s no one else I’d rather have, little one.”

- You felt a strong shudder run down the length of your spine, but you weren’t given much time to dwell on it before his lips were devouring yours once more, the tangy sweet taste of his venom coming back tenfold.

- The haze of arousal consuming you, however, would have been just as powerful without it.

- The passage of time became non-existent the further you fell into his heat, the more you felt your body give in until you could barely bring yourself to do anything but lay back in his coils

- You felt like you were floating in his arms, giving yourself away completely to his wants and whims, the sultry sound of his voice carrying you through the haze.

- A part of you felt like you should have been more embarrassed; it’s only been about a month since you’ve met this man in a forest you’ve never been to before on an island you don’t even live on, but the thought floated away before you could get a grasp on it.

- “What’s wrong, little mouse?” His nose was buried in your hair, chest puffing with every deep breath he took.

- You shake your head sluggishly, body growing ever warmer as you attempt to pull the baggy sweater off your body. His calloused but gentle hands brushing your middle as he helps you pull it up and off

- The anticipation of what would be coming buzzed under your skin like electricity, but your inability to move very much hindered your movements to try and get him to move faster.

- Sensing your impatience, he merely chuckled before pressing yet another heavy kiss to your lips, the taste of the aphrodisiac thick on his tongue, filling your senses once again.

- You felt your eyes drift shut, your head tipping back as you let out a deep, satisfied sigh, wet lips pressing against the side of your throat, his stubble scraping against you gently. You could barely process the feeling of his teeth grazing against your shoulder before a finger slowly pushed into your hole, curling into that perfect little spot that had stars flashing behind your eyelids.

- The noises you were making sounded muffled to your own ears, heaving breaths silenced by the sound of his low hums and wet lips sucking at your skin. Low words of praise left his lips in abundance, as if keeping them in would be like trying to stop a flood with a lone pebble

- You felt yourself drifting along with the pleasure again, arms stretching above your head as he slowly added two more fingers, mouth pressed close to your ear as he murmured all the things he wanted to do.

- “Gonna fill you up… ruin you completely for any other person.”

- “Gonna make you so full and heavy.”

- “Gotta stretch this tight little hole open... don’t wanna hurt you with my cocks.”

- Your eyes cracked open at the sound of that. Cocks? As in more than one?

- You unconsciously tense at that, causing him to pull his fingers from you as he used both hands to stroke your sides, hushing you softly.

- “s’okay baby… m’not gonna hurt ya. Promise.” He grabs one of your hands, pressing kisses to your fingers before pressing it to his chest, encouraging you to slide it down at your own pace until you reach the spot where his human torso meets his snake half.

- You will yourself to bring your eyes to look down to where he guides your hand, your breath catching when you see two painfully hard cocks, both flushed so pink it could almost be red. The heads of both flaring a bit before tapering into a rounded point, the slit at the top of both weeping with precum with every throb.

- You feel your stomach flip with excitement and nerves all the same as he wraps your hand around the lower one, fingers barely touching. You can feel his eyes watching your expression as you slowly process what it is you’re seeing, the arousal pooling heavier into your stomach as you moan softly in anticipation.

- You feel his lips press to your cheek, more whispered promises of being gentle reaching your ears as his hand goes back to work, stretching you dutifully as you sink further into him.

- You don’t know how long he had kept at it, occasionally stopping the motion of his hand to let a thick rope of spit and venom drip down to your hole, but you squirm and whine when he withdraws again. Before you can open your mouth to complain, you feel both heads press against you, and you don’t have much time to even unconsciously clench before he’s slowly pushing in with a loud groan.

- You’re disappointed that you’re missing the way his jaw probably dropped open from the tight, hot pressure of your entrance squeezing around him as he slowly spears you open, but you can’t help the way your head tips back and your eyes clench tightly.

- He braces his arms on his tail next to head as he bottoms out, growling deep in his chest as he grinds deep, bringing his face down to yours as he captures your lips in yet another deep kiss. He grinds his hips slowly, breathing heavily through his nose when he suddenly grabs your hips, groaning loudly when you feel something heavy spread you before it suddenly felt like it dropped into your lower belly.

- He pulled away with sharp hiss, a soft “fuck” leaving his lips before you felt the sensation again, only the stretch was bigger this time. You feel yourself shudder and moan as you realize he was pushing his eggs into you, your face growing hot. His forehead pressed against yours as he struggled to keep his hips from moving, cut off gasps leaving him with every egg until he had no more left to give.

- “Twenty, huh…? Shit, you look so pretty all swollen like this…” you feel his hands caressing your belly now, his hips rocking gently. You work the energy to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him back down as his pace grows a little more rough, hips snapping into yours with a loud clap as he uses his hands to move your hips.

- You lose focus on his words the longer he fucks into your pliant body, growling and moaning low once he starts to get closer and closer to his own orgasm. With a loud cry, you pull his hips into yours with your legs just as your orgasm rips through you, sending him over the edge. Hot, thick spurts of his fertile spunk fills you as he pins your hips to his, eyes rolled back as he growls and grunts and hisses, a powerful shiver running through him as you both slowly come down from your highs.

- Between the sedative properties of his venom and the exhaustion from having your body filled so well, you barely register the feeling of a cool cloth running over your body as you drift into sleep.

- “yeah,” you grin lazily “I’m definitely not going anywhere.”

#Naga Aizawa #🍄 anon #request #sorry it took so long #bnha au #naga au #bnha naga #bnha aizawa #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #TW

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philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.3]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 7.7k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Chapter 03: Ties That Bind

Where war, and joy, and terror Have all at times held away; Where both delight and horror Have had their fitful day.

The happiest under heaven A king of powerful mind; A company so proven Would now be hard to find

Gawain put on a good cheer. ‘Why should I hesitate?’ He said. ‘Kind or severe, We must engage our Fate.’

[Sir Gawain and the Green Knight]

„Breathe,“ Hanneman says for the third time. At every tap of his pen against the table, you flinch as if someone is knocking right against the inside of your skull. “You have to feel the Crest, become one with it. Don’t think of it as an addition; see it as an extension of your very self.”

You exhale but it’s hard to focus after you’ve been sitting in the same position for nearly two hours and your legs keep falling asleep.

“Focus on it,” Hanneman continues. He starts to gesture with his free hand, an indicator that he’s just as frustrated with your lack of progress as you are. “Focus on the feeling that took hold of you when you fought the bandits. Imagine what you want. Ask yourself what it is you really want, and take hold of that picture.”

Well, first of all, you really want a sandwich.

For the past few weeks, you’ve been waking up before sunrise to attend private lessons with Hanneman to get a hold of your Crest’s power. Now the end of the month approaches, and still your body refuses to get accustomed to work at such an early hour, and more importantly without eating first. An hour ago, your stomach started growling, but Professor Hanneman has proved again and again to be very successful in ignoring factors that disturb his lessons. You continue breathing through what you consider hunger pains instead of the raise of new powers, but with the sound of screaming students outside and the occasional flapping of wings as Pegasus Knights fly by on their patrol, it’s anything but successful.

“Focus!” Hanneman chides again as if he can read your mind and knows exactly you’re thinking of the pheasant roast with berry sauce on the menu today.

“I’m trying,” you groan and slump into the chair, defeated. “But I don’t feel anything.”

“Hmm hmmm,” Hanneman hums and looks at you like you were supposed to understand what he’s conveying with that sound. “Maybe we’re looking at it the wrong way,” he says once you don’t follow up on his inexplicable sound. “Maybe we should stop thinking of it as a common Crest, but approach it like it is something entirely different.” He quickly notes something on his paper, then proceeds to flip through the open books he’s splayed out on his desk. “There is so little we know about the Crest of the Herald. I am much frustrated no one thought of studying it a thousand years ago!”

“I don’t understand. How can it be different?” Your first lesson solely focused on Crests. How they are thought to be power incarnate, bestowed upon humans by the Goddess countless ages ago. Today those who are descendants of Fódlan’s Ten Elites and Four Saints, who fought during the War of Heroes beside Saint Seiros, wear Crests, a sign of wealth and nobility.

“Well, one possible explanation could be that for whatever reason, the first Herald was different from his fellow warriors, the Ten Elites,” Hanneman offers, leaning back into his chair and looking a lot more interested in the conversation now. “The Goddess must have found him worthy of her power just as she found Saint Seiros worthy.”

“Then why wasn’t he a Saint?” you wonder. From your understanding, the Four Saints were special comrades of Saint Seiros, just as guided by the Goddess as their leader. What had made the Herald from back then different? “According to everything you told me, he sounds a lot like this Macuil person. Focusing on strategy and all that.”

“Saint Macuil,” Hanneman corrects you, but there’s no bite in his voice. “And yes, perhaps he was akin to the Saints, but that clearly wasn’t what determined the final decision to name him Herald.”

“Well, that’s just my kind of luck,” you mumble, but when Hanneman makes a puzzled sound, you ask instead, “And you’re sure I’m a descendant of him?”

“Most likely! You bear a Major Crest, which means the Herald’s blood runs strong in your body. After he disappeared, he might have settled down and started a family. Unfortunately, nothing is recorded about him after the War of Heroes concluded.”

“Then how come there was no one else in a thousand years who bore the same Crest?” You aren’t sure you fully understand how they work. Apparently, Crests grant special powers to those who hold them such as high aptitude for magic or enhanced strength. But you know better than anyone that the Crest of the Herald is special. It doesn’t simply give you a boon, it allows you to command the flow of battle. But is it really a blessing bestowed by the Goddess? You don’t remember a divine revelation or talking to a Goddess. Or did that maybe occur even before you were found by the Officers Academy’s students? Before your memory loss? You certainly don’t feel chosen by a deity.

“Trying to explain the Goddess’ whims would wield about the same result as asking this question,” Hanneman says. “Sometimes a Crest may skip generations. No one can say with certainty who will be chosen. If it will be the first or third born. That is why we must further study Crests! For example, why, unlike other Crests, has your appeared physically visible?” Hanneman mutters more questions under his breath and notes them quickly on his paper. It’s remarkable how enthusiastic he approaches the topic if it only didn’t make you feel like an experiment lying on a dissection table.

“I want to know so much more about the first Herald,” you mumble. “What was his name? Where was he from?” Why did he disappear and what were the costs he had paid for such a title. Only one month in and Lady Rhea already granted you an impressive room to reside. People treat you with respect and admiration even though you aren’t doing much besides wave at them on the streets or hold some conversations. If being the Herald only encompasses these tasks, you’ll gladly take on the role and speak to people. But that would be a dream too good to be true.

“We can only speculate,” Hanneman says. “Some believe the Herald came when Seiros needed him most. Our Goddess’ answer to her cry of help. Others believe he was simply a general who originated form a farmer’s family. Other, smaller sources talk about a prince from a far off land who passed through Fódlan and decided to stay. But in all cases, the Herald was a great asset to win the War of Heroes and save Fódlan from the tyranny of the Fell King.”

“Yeah, no pressure there,” you mumble, sinking further into your seat. Hopefully no one expects you to save Fódlan from evil monarchs. If yes, it certainly won’t happen on an empty stomach. When Hanneman releases you, there’s only one place for you to be. The Dining Hall is crowded at this time of hour. Students and faculty bustle everywhere, eager to get their favourite meal on a plate. Just like them, you are drawn in by the amazing smell of roasted meet and freshly baked pastries.

The only thing you can live without is how once you enter the room several heads turn in your direction, and a ripple of “Look, it’s the Herald” goes through the crowd, spreading like a wave. Or a disease, you think with a sour taste in your mouth as you move through the parting sea. They want you to acknowledge them but Goddess forbid you actually engage in conversation with them and they flee like you’re the Herald of Pest.

“Herald!” Well, not everyone escapes. Some seem to like living dangerous.

Edelgard looks straight at you from between the other students from the Eagle class sitting at a table, removing any doubt she means anyone else but you. Running from her would be a sign of defeat, so you drag yourself over to the Eagle table and give the round an uncertain smile. “Hello.”

“Herald, if you have time, please sit with us,” Edelgard offers but the look she pins on you doesn't give you any choice. The silence of her classmates speaks louder than words, and a quick glance to Hubert tells you that he very much would like for you to notsit with them.

“Sure,” you say lamely and sit opposite from her where Bernadetta quickly shuffles to the side to make room, and then further down the bench until she jumps to her feet and flees from the hall. It’s a miracle she’s out of her chambers in the first place, undoubtedly Byleth’s work.

“Did you manage any progress with Professor Hanneman?” Edelgard asks, carefully cutting her pheasant roast into small bite-sized pieces. She looks the complete opposite from someone capable of hacking away their enemies but you wouldn’t dare to underestimate her.

“It’s slow,” you admit, solely focusing on shoving potatoes from one side of your plate to the other so you don’t have to look at anyone. “I’ve only grasped the basics of how Crests work and the Herald’s is so different.”

“Research might prove more fruitful if you’d be called into action,” she says, and it’s difficult to determine if that statement is a simple observation or underlying critique towards Rhea’s decision to leave you out of the major education system. At least that’s something you’re sure of. Edelgard is difficult.

“Maybe. But chances are higher I get myself killed somehow on the battlefield.” You’re already dreading the approaching noon hours. Byleth has worked out a special training programme for you and the house leaders. So far there hasn’t been a day without aching muscles and bruises for you. Thinking of Byleth, you can’t help but ask, “So how’s Byleth as a Professor?”

Edelgard considers her plate with mild interest, but her index fingers start tapping against her cutlery. She has small, delicate hands. Cute hands. You gawk at them for two seconds before noticing Hubert starring daggers at you, and quickly avert your eyes to your cup of ginger tea like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Our professor shows knowledge in the most curious things,” he says, surprising you by joining the conversation. “I think the Adrestian Empire will benefit greatly from that.”

You aren’t sure how leading the class correlates directly to joining the Empire, but you don’t want to point that out. Hubert is still too much of a puzzle you’re adamant on not piecing together because whatever picture waits for you after the assembly might be one of horror.

“She really is one to look up to,” Edelgard agrees, but she isn’t looking at anyone, so it seems she’s saying it more to herself. You want to try and read more out of her expression, but distraction comes quickly in form of more students from the Eagle class. Caspar is the first bouncing excitedly towards the table, and still he somehow miraculously manages to keep his food from flying everywhere. “Herald!” he calls and slides right on the seat right next to you. “How’s the head situation going?”

“Caspar,” Linhardt chides and gives his friend the disappointed look of a parent that can’t bring his child to use a fork to eat. “Would you stop pestering the Herald with the same question every day?”

Linhardt hits the mark. It was nice in the beginning to have someone show so much interest in your wellbeing, but now you don’t know if the daily reminder how you fail to regain pieces of your past is rude or just Caspar’s naive politeness.

“Yeah well.” You try to stuff as much potatoes in your mouth as possible just to avoid talking about it. “Nothin’ yeff.”

“Herald, please try to keep your manners in check, will you?” Ferdinand comments because of course he catches you with your mouth full and sauce dripping from the corners. Unlucky for him, you don’t really care.

“Well, sorry.” Caspar frowns and scratches the remains from his plate. The two minutes you needed to finish your potatoes, he’s cleared his whole plate. “I just thought it might help.”

“Help to be reminded what’s missing?” Linhardt doesn’t look convinced. “I think the Herald knows so better than anyone.”

“Guys, drop the subject,” Edelgard intervenes. “Let us finish our meals now. Classes resume presently and I don’t want to hear any stomachs growling, understood?” The last part goes with a pointed look towards Linhardt, who answers with a lazy shrug while continuing to poke at his food, looking bored out of his mind. It lasts about three seconds before he brightens up and turns towards you while rummaging through his school bag. From that, he pulls out notes and a pen, and unceremoniously shoves them into your hands. “I have a question, Herald. Would you be so kind and look over these strategic proposals I’ve developed from the last lesson? I understand what you taught us were basics as we find them in the library. I simply took the time and applied those to the strengths and abilities of my classmates.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You did?” Up until now, you didn’t know Linhardt was paying attention whenever you gave the students your sorry excuses of lessons. You feel like you’ve seen him asleep far more than actually looking at the board or writing, so him presenting his notes to you now is more than a surprise. He has a clean handwriting, small letters that curl into themselves and forget to take a break between words. You squint at the sentences, trying to make them out. It sure doesn’t help that half of it is crossed out by what looks like a strategy sketch with little circles and everyone’s names filling out the space.

“This looks … elaborate,” you comment, unsure if you’ll ever be able to solve this enigma.

“No worries.” Linhardt gives a little smile. “Please give me your answer report until tomorrow. And feel free to correct me on anything I’ve done wrong.”

He’s probably done a much better job than you on your lesson notes, but you nod with a lopsided smile. “I will.”

“Oh, and while we’re at strategy talk,” Caspar jumps right in, “any good ideas how to take on a taller opponent?”

“A good kick to their shins?” you suggest.

“A dagger to their liver?” Edelgard says.

“Poison in their cup?” Hubert offers.

“You’re all animals,” Ferdinand says.

Linhardt groans. “I toldyou how to win in a fight like that, Caspar. Why won’t you listen to me?”

You don’t want to be part of the argument breaking out between them, so you turn away and try to see what the other students are doing in the dining hall. At the opposite end, Claude catches your eyes and waves like he’s been waiting way too long to finally get your attention. He points at Edelgard and flaps his arms like a chicken. He points at you and spreads his hands behind his head, forming antlers with his fingers. When Edelgard follows your eyes, his head whips around and he pretends to agree with whatever Lysithea just said.

“I hope you forgive Caspar’s enquiries,” she says, steering your focus back to her. She’s gently tapping the corners of her mouth with an embroidered napkin, and oh there they are again, her delicate fingers. You look away before Hubert catches you staring again and decides to put poison in your cup7. “I speak on behalf of everyone in the Black Eagle House when I say we wish for your full recovery to be soon.”

“If wishing would only get the job done, I might have something to work with by now.”

Edelgard doesn’t blink, her expression frozen. “Meaning?”

“I thought I'd come here and one of the Church's healers would just wave their hands to return my memories,” you mumble, scribbling a tiny Claude with little, evil horns on his head in the corner of Linhardt’s notes.

Edelgard looks at you like you've just insulted her whole noble lineage. “That isn't how magic works.”

You throw your arms up in frustration to emphasise that yes, that's the point. You don't know how anything works in this place, and you doubt Byleth's four pages of lesson plans are going to help.

“If no one comes to your aid, maybe it is time you take matters into your own hands.” You flinch at the scornful sound in Edelgard’s voice. Judging the expression on her face, she seems just as surprised about her outburst. She gets up abruptly and bids farewell with a curt nod, followed closely by Hubert as always. Her classmates look after her, each more puzzled than the next.

“Didn’t she seem … angry to you?” Linhardt thinks aloud, blinking into the empty space.

Ferdinand harrumphes. “She’s always like this. Please excuse her, Herald.”

You don’t think she’s done anything wrong, and yet she certainly doesn’t appear as always. Something about her last words strikes you as especially sharp; reproachful. Those weren’t meaningless words, but you don’t have any ways to decipher the message. A little voice tells you she isn’t wrong either. So far nothing has helped returning your memories—Manuela’s medicine, herbs from the Greenhouse, Hanneman’s spells. It seems like your brain has built defencive walls to repel any probing, which begs the answer to the question what is hiding in secret even more. But can you really do it on your own, like Edelgard suggests? It seems impossible.

With newfound doubt you finish your meal, saying your goodbyes to the now scattering Eagle students as they scurry off to their next lesson. Two hours are left before you’re meeting with Byleth and the house leaders, and since you agreed to look over Linhardt’s notes, the library seems a good next stop. You still want to go over the seven classical manoeuvres of war, especially since the students didn’t really grasp the remaining two last time, and it gives you a good excuse to look over them again as well. At the beginning, you thought there was nothing you could teach those children, not with experienced colleagues at your side who have participated in countless battles themselves. Who could have thought that talking about tactics and strategies came as natural to you as breathing. Well, Rhea did for certain, and even the students drink up your every word like it is a message from the Goddess herself and you her chosen herald. The irony of it.

But it isn’t only the students accepting your guidance. Something inside you changed in the last couple of weeks as well. When you started going through the books in the library, it was more stumbling and slipping on foreign terrain, but just in a couple of days, you moved through the matter like a fish following smoothly the currents of its native waters. It felt like home. Like building the foundation of a house from thousand variables, the result different each time but still the same: art. You build the art of battle, the last decision that will bring victory or death. You love every second of it. Which opens the possibility that it really isn’t your first time, but also more questions: Who taught you? What battles have you fought? How many of them did you win? Since those aren’t as simple to answer, you focus on fulfilling the first purpose, and hope that it will some day be enough for the students to survive battles.

If only it would end there. Your second duty isn’t as easy or pleasant, and it lies in wait for you everywhere, stalking you like a dark shadow with monstrous fangs.

“Herald.” A soldier gives a courteous bow, intercepting you in the Great Hall on your way to the library. “Pilgrims ask for you near the Entrance Hall. Please allow me to escort you.”

Immediately, your nerves tingle with nervous anticipation. This is the scary part. Meeting the people, seeing the hope in their eyes. You’d gladly send them back where they’ve come from, but some have travelled for multiple days, and denying them audience would be cruel.

“Don’t let me stop you from your duties,” you say, unconsciously tugging your clothes in order to appear presentable. “I will welcome them on my own.”

The soldier nods and bows again, his expression barely readable under the helmet before he disappears as quickly as he came.

Planning lessons is easy. You can find whatever you need in the library and work out the flow with the students. But nothing can prepare or teach you how to act like the Herald people wish for. Nowhere is anything written on the old Herald, how he talked to them and what promises he’d whispered when day broke. That is where you are on your own. Not even Rhea could answer that question. She only instructed that you see them, and remind them about their devotion to the Goddess—for she was the one who made it possible in the first place.

The Entrance Hall is emptier than usual. Most of the students are in class, and a handful of knights and soldiers might be at the advanced training camp Jeralt and Alois hold in honour of the Blade Breaker’s return. So spotting the pilgrims isn’t difficult. Especially with the Gatekeeper waving his arms in wide arcs as if fearing you might overlook him.

“Greetings, Herald!” His grin is blinding. “The pilgrims are waiting for you just at the at the foot of the stairs.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I can see them.”

“Oh, yes, of course! If anyone causes problems, count on me to help!”

“Thanks.” You answer his thumbs up with one of your own before moving downstairs. What a refreshing young man. Certainly good looking under his helmet. Byleth seems to like talking to him a lot as well.

Today’s pilgrims aren’t much different from other days. Old people are supported by their family members, who have brought baskets with sweets and flowers, presenting them at your feet.

“Herald,” they breathe in awe, bowing. No matter how often you’ve seen it by now, it still feels incredibly wrong.

“Raise your heads,” you tell them, helping an elderly woman up to hrer feet. She gasps at your touch, then clings to your hands. You try to swallow past the lump in your throat. “The Archbishop and I bid you welcome. The Goddess will smile upon your devotion.” Your cringe slightly when echoing Rhea’s words and wonder if any second the goddess might punish you by throwing lightning your way.

“We are blessed to finally meet you,” a younger woman says, taking the old woman from your hands—mother and daughter maybe? “Please accept our gifts, and may the Goddess guide you on your path to light.”

“She will answer your prayers and guide me so I can bring you peace,” you reply just so you can say something they might want to hear. Judging their delighted expressions this wasn’t the worst you could have said. Dorothea would probably be proud looking at your acting skills. Or point out your bad posture and how you’re avoiding their eyes. Dorothea would probably tell you how much you have to polish your acting skills.

“Bring us peace?” someone from the last row spits, pushing to the front. “You know nothing, the Herald will bring chaos and ruin!” A man in his forties looms above you, an ugly, padded scar crossing his face from one temple to his chin. A war veteran? They way he holds himself looks like he’s been beaten up once too much to get up again.

“You heathen, don’t you dare speak to our Herald like that,” the old woman barks, immediately doubling over in a coughing fit. Her daughter supports her, glaring at the man. “Go in peace, but go if you only came to talk ill about our Herald,” she says, clearly upset. "Doubting them is doubting our Goddess. How dare you."

“First I want to see the Herald do something! What if … if this one is an impostor.” The man turns towards the others, throwing his arms in the air. “Bring forward proof that you are not here to ruin our lands, but to actually serve in the Goddess’ name!”

This time his demand meets less resistance. Until now people were fine with seeing you and the Crest, but to want actual prove? You could easily threaten them and ask if they doubt the Goddess’ decision, but you’d rather leave that method to Rhea. You don’t want to sound like her. You don’t want to scare people. Yet admitting that you don’t really have a clue how to really use the Crest would surely support the man’s accusation. Diminishing the people’s trust in the Herald is the last thing you want, especially if it means facing Rhea’s scorn.

“I—”

“Herald!” A voice calls from the top of the stairs. When you turn around, Sylvain waves and jogs downstairs, looking like he’s been running for some time. “There you are. The Archbishop wants to see you.”

Oh no, has she heard of your failure already? Giving the choice of facing a group of doubting people or Rhea, you’d immediately go to the people. You give him a curt nod, unable to speak because you don’t trust your voice.

“I apologise,” you say to the pilgrims, clearing your throat when it comes out as a croak. “I will have something prepared for another time.”

“No, you do not need to prove anything to us,” the elderly woman says. “We will always believe in you. Please tell Her Grace we are constantly praying to our Goddess and thank her for sending you to us.”

“I will.” You squeeze her hand a last time. “Save travels.”

The man still glares at you, but without a chance to keep you present any longer, he turns away and follows the rest. You can’t wait to leave all that behind, and as you steel your nerves for what’s waiting for you in the Audience Chambers, you look up to Sylvain and ask, “Did Lady Rhea say what it is about?”

He looks over at you and blinks a couple of times, then seems to remember. “Ah ... yeah, about that. I lied.”

You stop dead in your tracks. “You lied?”

“Yup. I don’t know what Lady Rhea’s doing. But you looked like you were about to puke at those poor pilgrim’s shoes. As hilarious as that would have been, I wanted to spare you the embarrassment.” He stops now as well and smiles a boyish crooked grin. Sylvain knows exactly what to do with his face so girls fall over themselves to do him a favour, and boys grow jealous of all the attention he gets. Two weeks in, and you’ve figured out his game, keeping a respectable distance that wouldn’t birth the thought you’re avoiding him. In fact, this could be the very first time you’re actually holding a real conversation.

“Well, I … thank you? But I had everything under control.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe you. The gatekeeper you’re just passing looks like he doesn’t believe you. You press your lips into a thin line and dare any of them to disagree.

“Okay.” Sylvain shrugs. “But now we’re here.”

“Sylvain, what do you want?”

“Cutting to the chase, huh?” He crosses his arms behind his head. “Why do you think I want something?” Your raised eyebrows seem to be answer enough. Sylvain laughs a little helplessly and returns his hands back to his front, raised as an offer of peace. “I promise, I want nothing. Just a little talking. A little talking hasn’t hurt anyone.”

Something inside you wants to argue against it, but without a solid argument in hand, you follow him silently, wondering where his destination and intention lies. He belongs to the many students you can’t really read, nothing about his ambitions or goals. Sometimes he gives you this strange look through half lidded eyes, his gaze focused on your right eye—his interest in your Crest undeniable, and yet he’s been one of the few not to talk about it with you. It’s strange because whenever you come together, he looks like there’s something he’s dying to say. This time is no different.

He leads you to the wooden pavilion in the gardens, but instead of offering you a seat, Sylvain leans his slim hips against the table, half sitting on it. Seteth would be furious seeing this.

“How’s the Herald business doing for you?” he asks the one question you wouldn't expect from him. “Other than you having ‘everything under control.’” He has the audacity to air-quote. This isn’t a conversation you want to hold right now, leastwise with him. Sylvain must discern that you’re ready to bold from whatever your body is showing. With a quick step, he’s standing between you and the escape route, lazily leaning one arm against a column to uphold the illusion that you’re only having a pleasant talk when in reality his body stands between you and your freedom.

“Do you talk to the other faculty members like that as well?” you say through gritted teeth, crossing your arms. Sylvain blinks like he doesn’t understand, but you’ve seen this act before, followed by an eerily precise repetition of a subject to one of his classmates when he thinks none of the teachers pay attention. Sylvain is playing dumb and deliberately hiding a sharp mind.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend,” he quickly says, nothing about this crooked smile appearing apologetic whatsoever. “I’m generously curious. You’re holding up really good.”

“In comparison to what?” you demand, your heartbeat picking up. Is he trying to call you out on something? That you aren’t heraldy enough? But to your surprise, Sylvain looks genuinely surprised by your reaction.

“To nothing. In general?” He shrugs. “Back on the ceremony day, you didn’t look so good standing up there, and His Highness told us everything happened really uh … ‘suddenly.’’ More air-quotes, whatever they mean this time.

“If you mean I wasn’t really asked to become the Herald, then yes.” Your arms drop back to your side. “It was suddenly.”

Sylvain watches you for a moment, and again, there’s this look in his eyes; the need to say something he can’t. He kneads the back of his nape, avoiding your eyes. “All I’m trying to say is … having that Crest out of nothing is cool. Probably. And maybe terrifying? And just—”

You grow impatient. “Come on, get the words out, Sylvain.”

“A Crest isn’t just this nice letter of invitation to a privileged life. Just take care, is all I’m saying.”

And there’s another page to the book of surprises with Sylvain’s name on it. The immediate lack of response catches him off guard; it’s like he only notices now that the vital part to understand this conversation is missing: The source of his doubt towards Crests.

Sylvain’s body turns in a split second, his feet facing the direction he’s ready to bold towards, but this time you stand in his way and block him off. “Sylvain, are you okay?”

He blinks in confusion, then furrows his eyebrows in deep thought like you demanded he recites the Ten Heroes from memory or else fails classes. His face contorts with the effort of looking fine. “Why, yes! Just peachy. Why would you think something is off?”

“Because I have eyes in my skull.”

“Very pretty eyes, if I dare say.” His answer comes out like a fire spell, hard and fast, seemingly more instinct than anything else. He clears his throat and scratches his chin, loosing momentum. “Goddess, I am bad at this.”

“You are.” No need to sugar coat it. “If something happened, just say it.”

“Nothing really happened, I just—” He exhales audibly and stares into space for a long minute, before side stepping you without difficulty. “Actually, I remembered Professor wanted to see me after class. Something about extra lessons about eh. Horse riding. Yeah. I’ll catch you later, Herald.” He winks and bolds away, darting under your outstretched arm before you can catch him. For someone this tall, he’s surprisingly agile and fast, already disappearing behind a tall hedge towards the main building.

If that wasn’t the strangest conversation you’ve held with anyone, you don’t know what might excel that. Maybe it’s time you stop avoiding Sylvain.

The Training Grounds smells of sweat and oil. Many students and knights train, which is surprising at this kind of hour, the short break between afternoon and evening classes. You’d like to know what they’re working on, but Byleth doesn’t tolerate inattention in a classroom or on the battle field, and demands you do push-ups each time your eyes wander somewhere off. You hate her a little for that. For whatever reason, Claude has taken on the role of your partner in crime, and does whatever necessary to make Byleth punish him as well.

“What can I say, I like a good workout,” he said when you asked. He didn’t even try to hide his lie, looking as miserable as you felt. Probably hating Byleth a little as well.

It’s the fourth week of private training with her and the house leaders, and so far you can definitely say that you were not meant to fight on the field. You see how your opponent moves, you can somehow predict what they’re going to do next—but your body simply protests to act accordingly. You stumble, you fall, you need a second too long to get up and before you can do anything, a training sword is at your throat. Byleth always looks like she wants to facepalm her fist through her forehead. Or yours.

“Herald, this is not how you disarm someone,” she says, as always, and demonstrates it in one smooth, swift movement, as always. You blow hair out of your eyes, knowing you’re about to fail again. At least that gave Claude a reason to give you a new nickname, though if it’s better than the last is debatable.

“You gotta twist your wrist, duckling!” he calls from the other side of the hall, immediately drawing Byleth’s attention to him. He and Dimitri are facing off, both wielding a spear which should give Dimitri the upper hand. So far, he hasn’t landed a single hit on Claude.

“Keep your elbows in!” Byleth berates Claude. “Stop flapping them like some kind of chicken.”

Claude lets out a disturbingly convincing cluck.

You raise an eyebrow. “At least someone’s having fun.”

Byleth sighs. “He’s going to get himself killed sooner than later.”

“I don’t know. He’s managed so far, hasn’t he?”

“I’m not sure if it’s a talent or a fault.” She turns back to you and nods her chin towards the side. “Take a break. I’m going to see how the boys are doing.”

You nod, tensing all over because that’s where Edelgard is currently standing and picking out a training axe. You haven’t talked to her since lunch, and you can do without it for a couple more hours. She barely glances at you when you walk over, and instead checks out the edge of the wooden blade, turning it left and right.

“Is she as strict in the classroom as in here?” you ask, unable to go on in awkward silence. Edelgard hums, throwing a quick glance towards Byleth from under her long, white lashes. “She’s systematic and consistent. Capable in both fields. I have no reason to raise any kind of complaint.”

“That’s impressive.” You sure as heck still wouldn’t want her as a teacher. “Even though she’s been pushed into all this, she handles it like she’s never done anything else.”

“I think as a mercenary, she is used to changing approaches depending on the employer.” Edelgard is still looking at Byleth. Reading her expression is impossible, and you don’t want to point out that sticking a sword into thieves and bandits is not the same as teaching kids how to fight in a battle. Her head whips to you suddenly, and she considers the training sword in your hand. “Speaking of different approaches,” she continues, “have you considered that your field of combat might be magic?”

You have, so the answer comes immediately. “Chances are higher I set myself on fire.” You stare at her. “I didn’t mean it to rhyme.”

Edelgard ignores your last comment. “But you haven’t really tried it out, have you?” Your lack of response is answer enough for her, and she nods like that proves a point.

It’s complicated. You haven’t really tried it out because … the simple answer is, you’re afraid. It gets tricky once you try to search for the answer to that. There’s just a strange sensation when you try to use magic, like there’s a vast sea of possibilities and one step inside is enough to get you lost. It isn’t as bad with wind spells or white magic. You haven’t touched Fire spells because a crippling fear chills you to the bones every time you manage to nourish a small flame inside your palm—the complete opposite to Dark magic. When you tried a MiasmaΔ for the first time it felt strangely … secure. The rope tying you to a shore, it had felt like—

There’s a loud crash when the spears collide and Claude knocks Dimitri off his feet. The whole room is silent as everyone watches how Claude taps the blunt end of his practice spear against Dimitri’s chin. “Steady on there, darling,” he says with a smug grin. Dimitri flushes bright red, and pushes with more force than necessary the spear away, quickly climbing to his feet.

“That wasn’t bad.” Byleth quickly steps in before Dimitri can throttle Claude. “Dimitri, you rely too much on your brute strength. That’s a big disadvantage against someone like Claude. And you, young man,” she turns to Claude who’s been smiling victoriously, “are scheming too much and lose time to take action. In a serious battle, you won’t be as lucky as today.”

“Noted.” Claude whirls his spear from left to right, almost dropping it when Dimitri drills his elbow into his side. “But in a serious battle, I won’t be upfront. I’ll be hanging back nicely, and skewing my enemies with a myriad of arrows.”

“You can barely shoot three at the same time,” Dimitri grumbles, his cheeks still splotched with red specks.

“You wanna bet—”

“That’s enough, guys, save it for then next round.” Byleth ignores their sulky expressions and turns to you, raising a single eyebrow. The message is clear. What are you waiting for?

Your feet feel like they’re glued to the ground. Edelgard doesn’t hesitate at all. “Let’s go.”

She strides in the middle, training axe raised. It’s made out of wood, but you don’t doubt that she’s able to severe a limb from your body if she only tries hard enough—and what you know of Edelgard is that she alwaysexceeds even her own expectations. You grip your sword tighter. It’s a clear disadvantage, but better than anything else you can handle. Maybe it won’t be as bad.

The fight lasts for about seven seconds. The moment you raise the blade, Edelgard is on you and unleashes fierce strike after strike, the power behind each hit forcing you back. She doesn’t bat an eyelash when she easily disarms you, the wooden sword flying over your heads and the edge of her axe on your throat. Somewhere behind her, you hear Byleth sigh. “Again.”

The next hour is torture. Edelgard throws you to the ground, again and again. Byleth keeps telling you to get up, again and again. One might think they would cut you some slack, being the Herald and all, but it feels like Edelgard is so much more aggressive today because you’re the Herald. Or maybe it’s personal. Maybe she’s appointed you to be her sworn enemy, and won’t miss out any chance to make it as hard as possible for you.

This isn’t fun. Being watched by Dimitri and Claude, who whisper conspiratorially to each other isn’t fun. Luckily, Byleth notices them gawking and bellows them to focus on working on their stances. Right now, you’re thankful nothing escapes her eyes and she calls her students out on their bullshit. It doesn’t make your current situation easier though. Every muscle burns, just raising the sword is exhausting and your feet feel like they’re about to give out any second. This must be hell.

When Byleth finally ends lessons, you ignore everything and crumble to the ground, splaying your limbs out in all directions. Surely they can clean up without you, two hands less will barely make any difference.

A shadow settles over you. You know who it is, and don’t bother to open your eyes. “Go away, Byleth. I don’t want to hear how bad I am.”

“Personally, I think you have improved, Herald.” Your eyes snap open. Dimitri looks down at you, his forehead still glistening from perspiration. “But facing Edelgard as an opponent usually wields those results. Don’t let it bother you.”

You want to point out that he and Claude don’t seem to have as much problems as you, even though yes, none of them have defeated her yet in practice. He goes down to your level and sits beside you, and you hate how this all barely made him breath hard, like it’s just a stroll around the monastery whereas you’re trying to climb the mountains surrounding it.

“I think she hates me,” you blurt out. Luckily, most students have already left the hall, Edelgard included. Dimitri considers this a moment, and you don’t know what to make of his lack of immediate response.

“I doubt she hates you,” he finally says.

“But?”

“But she has a hard time warming up to people. Give her time. Once the ice is broken, you will see that her personality is one you’d like to have around.”

“Oh?” You watch him for a moment, but Dimitri doesn’t blush or look away. It was a heartfelt, sincere statement, which flusters you for some reason. No one should be that honest.

“Talking about breaking ice. Do you know if something happened to Sylvain?”

“Sylvain?” Dimitri raises both eyebrows. “Please don’t tell me he harassed you in some kind of way.”

“No, no, he just—” You finally get up from lying on your back, and try to explain it by frantically moving your hands. Dimitri still looks puzzled. “He said some weird things about Crests in general?”

“Hm.” Dimitri stares at your hands for a moment, then quickly raises his eyes back to your face. “It’s complicated.” Well, that answer is as good as none. “And I won’t go into details without his consent. I can only say that if he talked about Crests, in whichever way, his brother must have upset him again.”

“He has a brother?” Now you’re wide awake. Many students have siblings. You know of Hilda’s brother and Raphael’s sister. It shouldn’t surprise you Sylvain has one as well even though he’s never mentioned it before.

“Do you have siblings?” you ask, generously curious. As heir to a kingdom, it’s hard to imagine his parents would have settled with one child. But he hasn’t mentioned any sisters or brothers as well.

“Hmm, I have a step-sister,” he says, although very hesitant and you can see if someone doesn’t want to talk about a specific topic. He doesn’t return the question, which is kind of him and makes you wonder … maybe you have a sibling as well. Somewhere. Maybe somewhere in Adrestia or Leicester a younger brother or an older sister is currently looking for you, unrelenting in their journey to be reunited at last. The thought alone brings a flicker of hope alive. Maybe they'll come once word of the Herald’s return travels far enough.

“I guess as long as Sylvain doesn’t disturb classes or acts out of order, I would leave him to his brooding. I can tell out of experience, only Felix is capable of cheering him up.”

“Felix?” Your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Are we talking about the same Felix?”

A smile forms on Dimitri’s mouth. “I understand why imagining that might prove difficult, but I assure you, Felix is one of the view exceeding in handling the mess Sylvain is from time to time.”

“Felix and Ingrid?” you guess, earning a nod from Dimitri. “Ingrid is a very nice girl,” you continue, picking at a loose thread from your uniform. “But Felix seems detests me. Every time he sees me, he looks like he wants to throw his sword at me.”

“That is—” Dimitri stops mid-sentence. “That might be not so far off from his true intentions.”

You groan.

“But I assure you it is for a different reason than you think. Felix is simply … difficult with people holding a commanding position.”

“He doesn’t seem to have the same problem with Byleth,” you point out. No, whenever he trains with her, he manages something close to a smile and accepts her guidance. Then again, she isn’t his teacher.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to make him consider his opinion on you during the Mock Battle. I as well am looking forward to how you will guide us.” Dimitri beams. You stare at him like he’s just lost his head.

“What?”

“The Mock Battle three nights from today?” Dimitri’s smile falters a little. “Have the Professor and Lady Rhea not told you yet? You are to participate in the Mock Battle as the commanding unit of the Blue Lions.” Now he’s pulling his eyebrows together in worry. “Herald?”

“I—” You jump to your feet. “I have to go.” Go far far away. Just yesterday you introduced the students to the tactic called Feigned Withdrawal, which involves staging a retreat in order to induce the enemy to abandon its position and plunge ahead in an attack. Dimitri abandons his position, getting up to go after you, but instead of turning back to surprise him with an ambush, you flee the battle and hope the enemy doesn’t pursue.

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mikwrites-archive · 4 years

Text

sweet dreams (are made of this)

✞ prompt: “You know that part in scary movies when somebody does something really stupid and everyone hates them for it? This is it.”

✞ pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader ✞ warnings: blood mention, the word bastard ✞ genre: fluff, a little crack, modern vampire au ✞ wc: 2.7k

✞ a/n: i was supposed to finish this yesterday so it would fit for jeonghan’s birthday too but it’s still his bday for me so its okay shhhh (even tho i rushed it oops) but it still fits under the cwc october event which i was very excited abt so i hope u enjoy!!

There’s an incredible amount of ups and downs to being roommates with Yoon Jeonghan.

The main downside was that he seemed to gain the reputation of the college campus crush. And even worse, you couldn’t find any reason to disregard the attraction towards him, with his good looks, intelligence and wit, musical ability, and athleticism.

Yet the upside is the very same reason, leaving your dorm empty for your own leisure often due to his popularity.

Perhaps that was for your own good, or his, that you didn’t find out his secret until later.

As you step inside one evening, one typically reserved for movie nights and indulging in junk food, you’re taken aback at the figure sitting on Jeonghan’s mattress. You recognize him as Kwon Soonyoung, the leader of the dance team, and he greets you cheerfully. You’re too flustered to notice the way he seems out of it, and he giggles, flopping down.

“Any spare blood?”

“Excuse me?” You blink, pausing in uneasiness as if you’d misheard. He opens his mouth to respond, sitting up and swaying slightly as if he were drunk, but before he can voice the clattering thoughts, the bathroom door slams open.

“Sorry, we were playing basketball and he got hit on the head really hard, just ignore him.” Jeonghan butts in quickly, hiding something behind his back while taking his friend by the arm, who sends you a toothy smile and a wave.

“Sorry if he said anything weird.” Jeonghan offers as he re-enters the room, and you assure him otherwise automatically, inquiring if Soonyoung was alright.

You’ve always been on amicable terms, always been something easily compelling about Jeonghan, teetering on the border of acquaintances and friendship, and you think it’s this moment that tips it towards the latter.

“Any plans for tonight?” He pipes up curiously, and you tell him hesitantly, his eyes lighting up. “That sounds fun.”

“Did you want to join?”

“If it’s not too much trouble?” He looks hopeful, neither of you even remembering the last time you both spent a night in the dorm in each other’s presence, and you rummage through your shiny bag of sweets to avoid awkward contact.

Yet you’ve always been told it’s only an awkward situation if you make it one.

“I’ve got enough snacks to share.”

Throughout the film, you don’t notice the way he barely touches them.

He tells you on a whim one morning, and he has to admit that the fact you hadn’t suspected anything pertaining to his condition surprised him. You’d grown closer in the passing months, and with many close calls, Jeonghan decided to bite the bullet.

“I’m a vampire.”

“Ha, ha, funny joke.” You don’t look up from pouring coffee into your chipped mug, and Jeonghan blinks.

“I’m not joking.”

“Yeah, and I’m a werewolf.” You deadpan.

“I’d hope not. Though I’m sure I would’ve been able to tell.”

Finally looking up at him, you study his expression, and it’s the epitome of solemness and sincerity, causing you to truly consider his words.

“So… those juice packets… that time with Soonyoung…” your mind races to draw the connections, and Jeonghan shrugs.

“Blood, and that idiot overworked himself that day and our dorm was the closest.”

“This better not be another prank.” You warn, and Jeonghan smiles.

“I’d never dream of it.”

You come to the conclusion that there’s no evidence to point otherwise to Jeonghan’s confession, and your mind is turned into a tangled mess of frayed threads.

“You know that part in scary movies when somebody does something really stupid and everyone hates them for it? This is it.”

You’re spinning on your desk chair, the circles making your head swim, but maybe that was just your mind attempting to comprehend the weight of his statement.

“Okay, rude.”

You lift your head to see if he’s really offended by your deprecating comment, but he’s absorbed with his phone, slumped down in his bed, smirking at whatever was being displayed. He glances up, catching your gaze with a quirked eyebrow.

“What?”

“You’re a vampire. And my roommate.”

And someone you have feelings for, your subconscious whispers devilishly and you swat it away like a buzzing gnat.

“So?”

“I dunno.” You sigh, unable to stitch together your words comprehensible to yourself and him, afraid of piecing together a monstrous Frankenstein to loom over you both. Instead you let your head fall to your desk with a full thunk.

He seems to suspect your hidden truth, and sets his phone aside, sighing.

“Didn’t you know you aren’t supposed to invite vampires in? That’s on you, really.”

You don’t reply, so he shuffles over, tapping the top of your head. When you don’t respond, he tugs at your hair lightly, still garnering no reaction. So he places his hands on each side of your head, lifting so you’d finally face him.

“If you want me to go, I’ll go. Mingyu has a ton of spare bedrooms at his place I can crash at.”

But you don’t want him to leave, pulling yourself from his touch, and with a dismissive air, as if you didn’t care whether he left or not, you tell him it doesn’t matter, whichever was easier.

“But if you stay, can I ask questions?” You add on, and he laughs.

“Tomorrow. It’s movie night tonight and it’s my turn to choose.”

“So do you sparkle in the sunlight?”

“Please don’t tell me all your questions are from Twilight.” He groans.

You’re lying on your stomach on your bed, Jeonghan sitting cross legged, facing each other.

“It’s a valid question!”

“No, I don’t. I can also eat food, including garlic, though not too much, I can see myself in mirrors, and can go in the sun but get burnt real easily.” He assumes a bored demeanour as he rattles off what you assume to be frequently asked questions. “Process of evolving I guess you can call it.”

You purse your lips, pondering what else to ask. “When were you turned into one?”

“Nineteenth century or so? I travelled the world a lot though, I forget.” He muses, and it’s just a number to you, not settling in his many years of life.

“Who else besides Soonyoung?”

Jeonghan rattles off the names of his friends, some that were completely understandable and others that stunned your thoughts.

“Is it… hard to live for as long as you have?”

He seems startled at your question, and ponders it, turning it over in his mind like the clothes tossed in a washing machine’s rounds.

“Sometimes.” He admits. It’s difficult to amount the trials and effort of living for decades into words, sometimes feeling as if you were stranded in the sea, bobbing with your head barely above the water, gasping for breath. Others, like you were floating in a serene pool, the sun warming your bones. You move on.

“Can I... y’know... see your...” you stretch your lips back slightly to show your teeth tentatively, pointing. Jeonghan obliges, baring his teeth, fangs snapping out briefly and he grins at your fascinated expression.

“Are you gonna ask me how it feels to be bitten by them?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you snort.

“I’m not looking for a death wish.”

“I know you’re curious! Everyone always is.”

Nothing externally changed, settling back into your daily routine (with the exception of Jeonghan spending more nights at the dorm); yet there’s still some inward aspects you both had to deal with.

You detect something’s awry with his mood the minute you walk in, Jeonghan not even sparing you a small nod in greeting or acknowledgment. No matter how tired or upset he may be at times, it never affected his fond disposition towards you. Setting down your belongings on your mattress, you pipe up nervously.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” He responds in a clipped tone, pausing before elaborating slightly. “Just hungry. Forgot to restock yesterday. Texted ‘Cheol. Said he’ll come as soon as he can.”

You’ve come to know that expressed hunger for Jeonghan didn’t apply to the human need, but rather the vampire need, and you fidget with your fingers.

“Will you be fine until then?”

He nods curtly, and you know it’s not personal, but the manner it’s delivered stings.

“If you want, you could… I could help.” You finish lamely, nervously.

He snarls, lip curling, and it rises the gooseflesh on your skin, your hands tightening over your phone as your heartbeat pounds out of your chest.

“I said— just drop it, okay?”

You stand there for a few moments, feeling rooted to the floor as he turns away sullenly, and you force yourself to trudge away quietly. When Seungcheol arrives, he pulls you outside after delivering the packets.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. He’s just a little grumpy, the equivalence to being hangry.” Seungcheol smiles apologetically. “I hope he didn’t scare you or anything. Jeonghan’s actually pretty tame when he’s hungry, but I know you saw Soonyoung once and they’re quite different.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” Seungcheol looks at you curiously.

“Does.... blood taste different depending on the person?”

“Yes and no. For instance, we can tell if someone’s smoked or drank alcohol, but in terms of different people having different tastes, it’s just a matter of blood type. Why?”

“Well, I offered to... y’know...” you tilt your neck, gesturing lightly, and he nods understandingly, a smile and twinkle in his eyes. “But he got really snappish with me, so I guess I thought maybe my blood was weird or something.”

“Did he really?” Seungcheol is unable to hold back his smile this time, and you furrow your eyebrows, so he explains further. “A lot of media nowadays take the vampire biting to a whole sexual level, and to a certain extent it can be true, depending on when you were turned, but for others, it’s common for feeding to be completely off limits to those we're interested in. As a matter of respect, you could say.”

“Are you saying that...”

“I’m not saying anything.” Seungcheol holds up his hands in an air of innocence. “But try asking him.”

You mull over the words as Seungcheol departs, and re-enter the room to meet gazes with Jeonghan, crimson liquid drifting up the straw from the plastic packet.

“I’m sorry I was rude. I know you were just trying to help.” He swallows, licking his lips, and you catch a flash of sharp ivory.

“It’s okay. Seungcheol actually told me something kinda interesting.”

“Like what?” He straightens, setting the blood aside carefully, and you make your decision.

“Nothing.”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes, but doesn’t push, and you’re torn between feeling relieved and disappointed.

It’s not brought up again, verbally between anyone or within your thoughts, until Halloween rolls around. It’s almost ironic, you think, the most haunting night of the year opening the chapter that haunted you the past year.

“Are you coming to Mingyu’s party?”

“Wasn’t invited.” You shrug, and Jeonghan laughs.

“Like that stops most people. But if you really care, he said I could bring a plus one and I choose you.” He points at you playfully, as if choosing a Pokemon. “It's a masquerade. He’s always had a liking for those things, he used to throw them all the time back in the days.”

You don’t know how long ago he’s referring to, but you still attempt to picture Jeonghan and Mingyu elaborately dressed and adorned with delicate masks.

“So what do you say?” He leans forwards, as if your answer was an intimate secret, and you tell it to him, never having much luck in refusing Jeonghan.

He tells you he’ll meet you there, yet it’s an hour into the celebrations, and you’ve nursed a few drinks, danced with some strangers, and haven’t seen any sign of him. It’s apparently not uncharacteristic of your roommate, as you converse with the host, Kim Mingyu, so you don’t worry too much.

You’ve forgotten to track the passing hours by the time he arrives, lost in the lull of the rise and fall of voices and faces unknown.

“There you are.”

You almost don’t recognize him, gold spun locks turned to raven black, in addition to the mask resting upon his features.

“I couldn’t find you, so I had a few drinks with the guys.”

“You changed your hair.” It’s a childlike, wondrous instinct, the way your hand comes to curve into his hair, and he lets you.

There’s something addictive in the way you touch him, uncaring to the swaying bodies on the dance floor, the pulse of the music thrumming through your veins.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.” He pulls you away, searching for a relatively quiet place, but the bathroom is taken up by a poor soul retching into the toilet, the bedrooms locked (Mingyu having enough sense with that at least, Jeonghan thinks), so he finds a closet instead.

“Why are we here?”

He doesn’t respond at first, the closet shades slanting horizontal lights, framing his face dangerously, like the edge of a knife.

“I see the way you look at me. Like you love me. I’ve been around enough to see it.” Jeonghan doesn’t let you speak, yet you’re not sure what you’d say if he allowed you to. “You said the stupid part everyone would hate you for in a horror movie was letting me stay. I think so too. But I think my own part is falling in love with you back.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No. Vampires can't get drunk.” Jeonghan huffs, and you cross your arms disbelievingly. “Why is it that whenever I tell you something serious, you brush me off?”

“Because you don’t have to be so dramatic and make it sound like sarcasm!”

“Well, I’m not trying to!” He glares exasperatedly. You both stand in silence, until you pout.

“You didn’t have to say that liking me was stupid.”

“It is stupid.” Jeonghan snorts. “I’m a vampire. You’re a human.”

“So?”

Jeonghan pauses, sighing.

“I didn’t say I don’t like stupid things. I did confess to you after all.”

“Hey!”

He grins, stepping closer to grab your hands, slender fingers wrapping around your wrists before sliding down, perfectly fitting into your own. You tug him closer, and he propels himself snugly against you, chest to chest, breath fanning upon the shell of your ear.

“Can I kiss you?”

You don’t answer, nodding breathlessly, and he leans forwards, smiling against your lips.

Jeonghan takes out a box of mementos for you to rummage through a week later, spreading out the photographs, journal entries, and other knick knacks across your mattress you both sat cross legged upon.

He mainly does it for your amusement and interest, answering the spare question or comment you’d make offhandedly, browsing through his phone, but when you burst into giggles at a seemingly whim, he straightens up.

“What’s so funny?” Jeonghan peers over your shoulder, and you hold up the photograph gently towards him.

It’s not exactly comedic material, but something about the photo tickles your throat with laughter; Jeonghan dressed pristinely, a solemn, almost bored, expression upon his fine features, styled hair without one strand out of place.

“What’s wrong with that picture?” He jutted his bottom lip out accusingly.

“Nothing.” You assure with a gleam of a smile, and he rests his head on your shoulder after some inward deliberation at the truthfulness of your answer. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am I guess.”

He doesn’t move from his position, but you can tell he’s listening intently so you continue with a breathless laugh.

“You’ve lived for so long, and I get to be a part of it. Maybe I’m taking a page out of your dramatics, but I dunno. It’s nice to find something unexpectedly that I didn’t know I was looking for in you, even if it was kind of weird. I guess Seungcheol was right.”

“That was really sweet, and I thought we were going somewhere, until you said the last part.” Jeonghan furrows his eyebrows, looking at you confusedly, and you chuckle, telling him about the time Seungcheol dropped off blood for him last minute.

“Bastard.” Jeonghan mutters, and with your fit of laughter, it’s passed over, Jeonghan’s unsaid words lingering on his tongue.

He sets them free when you fall asleep on his lap, midway through parsing the box’s contents, and he cleans it up with his best to not disrupt your sleep, talking in a soft voice.

“Everybody’s looking for something. I’m glad we found that something in each other, in this lifetime. ” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you stir lightly, smiling gently.

“Me too.”

✞ taglist: @seijoh @soranihimawari @peachy-yabbay

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan imagines #svt x reader #svt x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios

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poeticandors · 4 years

Text

Cut to the Feeling Part 2

Poe Dameron x F!Reader (Babysitter! AU)

Summary: After graduating college and needing to have some cash in order to survive while doing an unpaid internship, Y/N decides to take up a babysitting/caretaking job. Little does she know that she ends up working for a familiar face.

Warnings: Only mentions of smut I guess, nothing else

A/N: Thanks for all the love for this fic! Hopefully you all continue to enjoy this! This chapter is a bit long i am so sorry.

Part 1

GIF belongs to @fernandabarrera

Earlier

Poe watches you rush out the door, a sense of slight regret. He hates the thought of you walking alone, he would have loved to offer you a ride back to the bar to retrieve your car. Under different circumstances, he would have.

Poe wasn’t one to engage in one night stands like this. When he saw you drinking alone at the bar, it wasn’t his first intention to take you and have you ride him in the backseat of your car. Nor was it his intention to take you back to his house and continue your hot, sensual escapade and practically kick you out in the morning.

No. Poe wasn’t like that at all. Hell, the last time he even had sex was before… well, before his daughter was born.

But after a long stressful day at work— on a whim— he decided to ask his dad to continue to watch his daughter over night while he got a drink at the bar. Well… a few drinks.

While he doesn’t regret the sex at all, he does regret that he didn’t get your information at all. Did you even tell him your name? Did he even tell you his?

He really wished he did get your information because when he was talking to you, it felt as if he could talk to you for hours. You were hilarious, sweet, and Poe hadn’t met someone he actually loved to be around in so long.

Being in law school, participating in an internship in one of the best law firms, and taking care of a baby— it can really kill someone’s social battery.

He was lucky enough to still live with his dad at the time, who was a big help in raising his daughter, Eva Bey. There were some tough nights, but when Poe needed to study or had late nights at the office, his dad would always be there to take care of her. Poe was very grateful for his help— without him, he wasn’t sure if he would have gotten this far.

But since then, Poe managed to get a position with the law firm he was interning for. The only problem was that he had to move into the city, which meant leaving his dad behind. While he was still able to go visit his dad every now and then, he wasn’t going to be able to leave Eva Bey with him every day— which was why he decided to put an ad out for a caretaker.

This would make things a lot easier: he wouldn’t have to drive at least an hour every night to go pick up Eva Bey, and he wouldn’t have to worry about picking her up from school every afternoon.

Poe checks his phone, cursing to himself at the time. He was supposed to have an interview soon and he still needed to pick up Eva Bey from his father’s. As he grabs his keys he thinks back to you hoping that you’re okay and that maybe there is a chance he could meet you again.

++++++

“Thanks again, dad,” Poe says as he grabs the small pink bag. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, how could I turn down some quality time with my favorite granddaughter,” he chuckles, patting his back.

“I’m your only granddaughter Papa Kes!” Eva Bey furrows her brows.

Kes chuckles, bending down to pick the small girl up. “And you’re my favorite.”

Eva Bey gives him a toothy grin, before hugging him tightly.

“You be good for your daddy, okay?” He kisses her cheek. “And I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay!”

Kes sets down Eva Bey, and she looks up at Poe, who kneels down in front of her.

“Why don’t you take your bag to the car,” he smiles, handing her the backpack. “I’ll be right there.”

“Okay, daddy.”

Poe stands up, watching his daughter hurry to his car before turning back to face his dad.

“So, you said you had an interview set up?”

“Yeah, I should be there to meet her by the time we make it back. Thanks again.”

“Of course, I’m going to miss seeing you guys every day,” he chuckles.

“You’ll still see us, don’t worry.”

Poe gives his dad a quick hug as a goodbye, making his way to the car. He helps buckle in Eva Bey into her booster seat, before he gets in the front seat.

“Did you have a good time with Papa Kes?” Poe looks in the mirror, as he backs out.

“Yeah! We had Mac and cheese for dinner, and we watched Princess and the Frog!”

“That’s good, baby. I’m glad you had a good time,” he smiles.

“Daddy, will I still get to see Papa Kes?”

“Of course you will, baby. Just… it won’t be every day like we used to.”

“How come?”

“Well, daddy has a new job, remember? And we had to move pretty far. There would be a lot of driving. But, daddy is going to meet someone today and they might be able to pick you up after school when I can’t.”

“Is it a man or a lady?” She asks, swinging her feet.

“A lady.”

“Is she pretty?”

Poe chuckles. “Well, I’m not sure. I haven’t seen her yet.”

Eva Bey seems to accept the answer— or is just tired of the conversation— and pulls out her tablet. Poe smiles, and continues the drive home.

++++++

“Okay, why don’t you go put your stuff away. The caretaker will be here soon to meet us.”

“Okay, Daddy!” She takes her backpack, and skips off down the hallway.

Poe smiles, setting his keys down as he looks around the living room. He spots a few of Eva Bey’s toys on the floor— a small plush giraffe, a soccer ball, and a few of her blocks. He sighs, making his way over to pick up the toys she left lying around yesterday morning.

He also sees a few of the couch pillows on the floor, and he is suddenly brought back to last night— how you tasted, how you pulled his hair when he made you cum, and how you even offered to return the favor, giving him an IOU.

Poe smirks. He wonders what you are up to at this moment. If he had your number, he probably would have texted you at this moment. Were you thinking of him like how he was thinking of you?

Just as he finishes tidying up the living room, he hears the doorbell ring. Perfect timing, he thinks. He straightens his shirt, and gives one last look over for the room before he heads to the door.

He puts on a friendly smile, and as he starts to greet the person he was supposed to be interviewing, he instead comes face to face with you.

You.

You who he had just departed from hours ago. Who had stayed the night after being tangled in each other’s limbs, pleasuring each other for hours. You who he was just thinking about seconds before he opened the door.

His smile drops, and he seems to mimic your expression as you stare wide eyed at him. It takes a moment, but then you both finally seem to find words as you speak at the same time.

“...Are you Mr. Dameron—“

“—You’re Miss Y/L/N?”

You both seem to catch each other off guard. There you both stand, silent and baffled, until he feels a pair of arms wrap around his leg.

Poe looks down, and sees Eva Bey peeking out from behind his legs. He automatically pushes her hair back and gives her a reassuring smile, letting her know that she’s safe and that he’s there. She looks up at him, and he wishes he knew what she was thinking in that moment as he looks deep into her dark eyes.

When he looks back to you, he’s conflicted. Sure, he was just thinking about you, but he didn’t know that it was, well… you that he was going to be interviewing. Would it be wrong to turn you away just because he happened to sleep with you last night?

Poe watches your gaze fall down, and you give his daughter a friendly smile before kneeling down and giving her a small wave as you tell her your name. He doesn’t know why, but that small gesture softens his heart. Eva Bey stays behind him, though peeking out a little more. In that moment, Poe makes his decision, and clears his throat.

“Um… come on in.”

++++++

This was not happening.

Your mind races, you couldn’t be awake, right? You were still in bed with him, waiting for your alarm to go off. This was a dream— no, it was a nightmare.

Wake up, wake up, wake up.

There was no way you were really here after waking up and leaving him just to end up back here for your interview. You had to be asleep still. That’s why you were still picturing him, and imagining his living room... in perfect detail with daylight.

With other added details.

The entire house— or at least the front room— screamed that he was a family man. How did you not notice the toys in the pink bin on the other side of the living room this morning? Or the framed photographs of him with his daughter on the wall?

Oh, right.

Because after you spent most of the night writhing underneath his mouth as he brought you to that euphoric bliss, you were too dazed to even think of anything else. Even this morning, you were more worried about getting your clothes and rushing to get to your interview then checking your surroundings.

Shit, shit, shit.

There was no way you were about to get interviewed by the guy you just happened to fuck last night. Was this going to affect everything? What if he looked past all your credentials and thought you were someone who was careless and not fit enough to take care of his daughter anyways? Or… what if he expected more?

Your stomach sits uneasy. The thought of that being the whole reason to hire you really terrifies you. But you really needed this job.

You were so sure that you would get it based off of your qualifications that you didn’t even think of searching for another. What were the chances that you just happened to sleep with the man who had the choice of hiring you?

You were surprised he didn’t automatically turn you away when he saw you. But also grateful. Maybe he was willing to look past everything that happened and give you a decent, fair chance?

When you see the look on his face as he walks back in the room, your hopes seem to dwindle down to a trickle.

Poe Dameron— as you’ve now come to know him— sits across from you in an armchair, staring at you. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he visibly tries to form some sort of a coherent sentence.

The silence, despite the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall, is achingly painful. You debate just hightailing out of there, saving you both the trouble. He would probably appreciate it; that would mean less awkward work he would have to do.

Finally, and to your confusion, he lets out a dry chuckle.

“What are the chances?”

“...S-Sorry?”

He sits back in his chair, an amused smile on his face. “I mean, out of everyone in that bar, everyone, I happened to talk to the one that I had an interview with.”

You’re not really sure how to respond. Was he really trying to joke at a time like this?

He must’ve read the expression on your face, because soon after his smile drops.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean— I only meant… this is such a wild coincidence, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Oh, no— I mean, yes. You’re right, it is a wild coincidence.”

He seems relieved, and visibly relaxes. “Okay—“

“Before you say anything, I just…” you interrupt, breathing out nervously. “I have to tell you that I don’t expect you to hire me after what happened last night. I wouldn’t blame you for just kicking me out right away. But… I really need this job. And I’m not just saying that, I really, really need this job. I’m doing this unpaid internship at this clinic and well, I didn’t really plan for a backup and...”

You quickly pull out your references and resume out of your purse, setting it on the table.

“I’m really good with kids. Like, really good. I babysat all my cousins and I was the go-to babysitter in the neighborhood. And I’m working on becoming a speech therapist, to help out kids with their speech and communication.”

You watch as Poe slowly reaches forward, looking over your information. Although you should probably stop talking and instead let him read over, you can’t help yourself.

“I’m also CPR and First Aid certified, so… oh! And I’ve never had a driving ticket and I just…”

Poe glances up at you and you feel like sinking into the couch.

“I really need this job. And I just… I hope that we can look past what happened last night. I mean, I did have a great time, don’t get me wrong, but…”

You trail off, realizing what you said and mentally curse at yourself. Poe doesn’t seem affected by the comment as he looks up from the papers, setting them down.

He studies you for a moment, and you wonder if this is what having heart palpitations feels like. All you can do is wonder what is going through his mind, hoping that he takes all that you’ve said into consideration. Finally, he goes to speak.

“Do you know how to make Mac and cheese?”

You blink. And blink again. And then once more.

“...Mac and Cheese?”

“Yeah, it’s my daughter’s favorite.”

He had to be joking, right?

“...Yes, I can make it. And other foods.”

He nods, and then stands up. “How about I show you around?”

“Wait…” you quickly stand up. “Seriously?”

Poe shrugs. “Gives me time to think things over. Come on.”

Poe begins heading out of the living room, and you can only follow behind him, slightly confused. Were you going to question him? No.

“That there is the kitchen, the fridge is always stocked so you wouldn’t have to worry about it. If there is anything specific you need just let me know.”

“Oh, okay…”

He walks down the hallway, and you take note of more pictures— actual photographs and hand drawn ones— of Poe, his daughter, and some including another man, probably a relative.

“This is the bathroom, and the room across from it is my office. You probably won’t have to go in there anyways.”

You simply nod. Why was he telling you all of this?

He points to another door. “My bedroom. Though I have a feeling you might have already known that.”

He turns back to you, seeing you giving him an unamused look.

“...Sorry, bad joke.”

“It’s… fine.”

He only walks across to the other door. “And this is Eva Bey’s room.”

He opens the door, and you look inside to see the small bedroom. The furniture was white, and the bed in the corner had purple bed sheets, with a few stuffed animals laid up against the pillows. You also noticed another bin filled with a few other toys.

On the other end of the room was a small table, where His daughter— Eva Bey— sat coloring a picture. She looks up, smiling at her father. You noticed she had similar features: the same dark, curly hair, deep brown eyes, and even the same lips.

“Hi, daddy.”

“Hey, baby. I was just showing Miss Y/F/N around.”

She looks up at you, and suddenly looks back down to her picture. Poe chuckles softly.

“She’s shy, not used to seeing a lot of new people.”

“I get that—“

Poe’s phone begins to ring and he quickly pulls it out, cursing silently.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this. Work. You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you nod, and he hesitates before quickly walking to his bedroom.

You stand at the doorway, glancing back to Eva Bey. She must’ve been looking up at you because she is fast to look back down at her paper. You can’t help but smile, and make your way over to the table. She doesn’t look up right away, and you kneel next to her.

“So, Eva—“

“My name is Eva Bey.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” you set your bag down. “Eva Bey, is it alright if I sit and watch you color?”

She shrugs, reaching for the green crayon as you take a seat in the small red chair across from her. You take a look at the picture she is working on.

“Is that you and your dad?”

“Mmhm,” she nods, working on a few small green blobs you make out to be bushes.

“I saw your other pictures, you’re really good at drawing.”

“...Thank you.”

You breathe out softly, smiling as she finally looks up at you.

“I like your hair,” she says.

“Thank you. I like yours, too. It’s very pretty. And so is your name.”

She straightens up. “Are you going to be watching me when my daddy is working?”

“Well… I hope so. But it’s up to your daddy.”

She seems to be satisfied with that answer, and puts down the crayon in her hand.

“Do you know how to draw a puppy?”

“Oh, um… kind of.”

She slides the paper over to you. “Can you draw one for me please?”

“Sure,” you turn the paper over. “What color do you want the puppy to be?”

“Orange and white! Like those little ones, um… I forgot what they are called.”

“I think I know which ones you’re talking about,” you smile. “Here, I can show you how I like to draw my dogs and then you can learn how to do so.”

She scoots closer, watching as you begin to draw a small puppy.

“Do you have a puppy?” She asks and you shake your head.

“No, but when I was your age I used to have one. The building I live in doesn’t allow pets,” you take the orange crayon. “Do you have any pets?”

“No,” she sighs. “But I really want a puppy. My daddy says we can’t have one yet, and that’s it’s a lot of re… um… I can’t remember the word.”

“Responsibility?” You look down at her and she nods quickly. “Well, your daddy is right. Taking care of animals is a big responsibility. But I’m sure someday you’ll be able to get a puppy.”

She smiles and you put the finishing touches on the puppy, before handing her the paper.

“What do you think?”

“I love it! Thank you!”

You laugh softly, before seeing Eva Bey look behind you to the door and rushing over.

“Daddy, look! Miss Y/F/N helped me with a puppy!”

Poe picks up Eva Bey, taking a look at the picture. “Wow, that’s a good picture.” He nods, before turning to you.

You stand up, grabbing your purse as Poe sets Eva Bey down.

“How about you hang that up on the fridge, okay? I’ll walk Miss Y/F/N out.”

“Okay! Bye Miss Y/F/N!”

“Bye, Eva Bey,” you smile, watching as she runs out the door:

Poe turns to you, before stepping out of your way to walk back to the front door. He doesn’t say anything right away, and that has you becoming anxious. This is where he tells you he can’t hire you, right? Because you guys just so happened to have a one night stand with each other?

“She seems to like you,” he finally says, and you glance over at him.

“Oh… well, she’s a very sweet girl.”

“She is,” he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

You grip the strap of your purse. Had he come up with his decision? Was he going to hire you? Or was he just going to let you down easy.

He finally sighs. “So, listen… I know last night happened, and… well, this is happening now. But…”

It didn’t occur to you that you were holding your breath until he steps towards you.

“What happened last night can’t happen again. If I hire you, we just… go on like nothing occurred between us before this, okay? We have to be professional.”

“Of course!” You breathe out. “I totally understand, extremely professional, and that won’t happen again I can assure you that.”

“Great,” Poe nods. “So I’ll just give you my card. You can reach me at my cell anytime. Would you be okay with starting Monday?”

“Yes, Monday definitely works,” you take the card, fingers brushing just barely against his.

“Perfect. I’ll send you the address of her school and let them know you’ll be picking her up from now on. She gets out each day at one, so just try to be there before then.”

“Of course, I definitely will,” you nod, shaking his hand. “Thank you so much Mr. Dameron.”

“You can call me Poe, I don’t mind.”

“Right, Poe…” you slowly pull your hand away. “I’ll just… thank you again for this, I won’t let you down.”

“I have a feeling you won’t,” he gives a genuine, friendly smile. “See you Monday?”

“Yes, Monday.”

He opens the door for you, giving a slight wave as you walk back to your car. You really couldn’t believe it, he was really willing to give you a chance despite what happened.

As you get into your car, you breathe out in relief, relaxing against your seat. But then you’re suddenly brought back to the feelings you had earlier, before you found out that Poe was the one you slept with.

It was a little dejecting, you were beginning to feel something towards the man you slept with and hoped to find him again. Now that you did, you realized that you had to push those feelings down. Deep down.

That wouldn’t be so hard, right?

++++++

TAGLIST: @starkrobb

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x you #poe x reader #babysitter au

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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icedthoma · 4 years

Note

Out of spite with Todoroki, please. Congratulations on being here for a whole year! Hopefully you will be here for many more!

6. Out of spite

Pro hero AU!

Thank you so much lovely anon!! Hope you enjoy! (Also a big thank u to @katsukiscaramel for all ur help)

You were pretty sure you were the only person in this entire agency that hated Todoroki Shouto.

Well, hate might be too harsh. You didn’t love him, that was for sure. A graduate from the prestigious UA high (who got in on recommendation), a powerful quirk and connections to the hero world, his future had always looked bright. Meanwhile you were over here having tragically failed the entrance exam at UA, having to go to a hero study course at a lesser known academy instead.

Well, you were thankful for all the hard work you had put in over your high school years that helped you become the hero you were today. It just seriously pissed you off how some people had everything laid at their feet from a young age solely because of their renowned last name. And to you, Pro Hero Shouto was one of them.

Which was why you felt absolutely no guilt whatsoever working at his agency just because of the good reputation it would give you. If he could use his father’s last name to get him into UA, why couldn’t you use his hero name to add to your resume? You honestly needed all the help you could get.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to watch several of your coworkers develop a hopeless crush on Todoroki, only to get crushed themselves as they came to the eventual realization that they absolutely had no chance. It also didn’t help that he was painfully blunt with his words, yet frustratingly oblivious at the same time. Todoroki Shouto unknowingly left a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever he went, and you were definitely not going to be one of them.

“Y/n.”

Shouto’s voice called out to you from where you had just passed his office, back at the agency for a short break before you resumed patrols, and you instinctively groaned. Plastering a smile on your face, you backtracked and stuck your head into his room. “Yes?”

“Come in, please.”

Wondering briefly if you were about to get fired, you edged in and stood with your hands behind your back, looking anywhere but the hero sitting at his desk. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“No,” Todoroki said quietly, and you were uncomfortably aware of his gaze on you from the corner of your eye. What could he possibly want with you?

The silence stretched on for an uncomfortable minute before he sighed and grabbed a stack of papers, straightening them despite the fact that they were already neatly together. “The--the coffee machine is empty.”

“W-what? Do you want me to refill it?” you asked. You couldn’t believe your ears. He called you in here to refill the stupid coffee machine?

“Yes.” You couldn’t see his expression because of the papers he was holding. At least you were spared the view of his smug face that had succeeded in wasting your time.

“Yes, sir.” Biting down the rising retort on the tip of your tongue, you quickly dashed out of the room before he could say anything else, and so he couldn’t see your fuming face. Who did he think he was? You were just as much of a hero as he was, not his personal assistant.

“Hey, Y/n!”

“Save it. I’m not in the mood right now,” you spat out, walking right past your fellow coworker on your way to the break room.

“Woah, cool down. Aren’t you supposed to be out on patrols right now?”

“Yeah, before someone called me into their office and had me stand there for a whole minute just to tell me to refill the coffee machine.” You let out a noise of frustration, hands tightening into fists at your sides. “I honestly don’t get what you see in him.”

“Not this again,” your friend groaned, rushing forward to keep up with your brisk walking speed. “I swear you have some personal vendetta against him or something. Is that why you decided to apply here? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer--”

“I am not,” you protested, refilling the machine like the dutiful sidekick you were. “Do you actually need something from me?”

“Oh, right!” she exclaimed. “I almost forgot. I was asked to tell you that you were requested to be at a mission briefing after you got back from patrols. Which was why I was surprised to run into you!”

“What? By who?”

“Who else? Todoroki, of course.”

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

This day could not get any worse.

Folding your arms even tighter against your chest, you forced yourself to focus on the folder in front of you and not on the red and white-haired man across the table. You and Shouto were to go undercover at a large party happening in a few days to apprehend a villain involved in several illegal drug deals--or something along those lines.

Awkward silences always seemed to follow you and Todoroki around, and this time was no exception. “I...look forward to working with you,” he offered after a moment, holding his hand out.

You may not like him, but that didn’t mean you were going to be rude. Plastering a smile on your face, you reached out and shook his hand firmly. “Likewise.”

Sidekicks usually patrolled around the city or were backup when necessary. So why were you the one chosen to go on a mission of this type with him?

Probably because fate hated you.

In a few days, you and Todoroki were headed over to the party, dressed somewhat formally and masks in hand to match the theme. You had to admit Shouto did look rather dashing in his white suit that complimented his eyes well. Next to him, you felt like a boring mud puddle.

“Do you see him anywhere?” he asked quietly from where the two of you were seated at the bar. His eyes seemed to shine from within the mask he was wearing, dual colors of blue and brown glittering at you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Well, in that case...” Shouto took a sip of the water glass he was holding. “Let’s talk.”

Raising an eyebrow, you mirrored his actions and drank from your own glass, looking at him from over the rim. “About what?”

He shrugged, one hand supporting his chin and the other lazily spinning his drink around. “Anything.”

“I really do think we should be focusing on the mission,” you said, ignoring the prickly feeling settling upon you to do another quick once-over around the slightly crowded venue. You couldn’t believe him. Why was he wasting time trying to make small talk?

“Well, we came early,” Todoroki pointed out. “It’s likely he won’t be here for a while. So...why don’t you tell me more about yourself? While we wait.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought the two of you were on a date from the way he was acting. “Um, okay. I’m Y/n L/n, and I’ve been working as your sidekick for a year and a half.”

He laughed at that, a quiet chuckle that he tried to muffle with his hand over his mouth. “I know all that already. What about what got you into wanting to be a hero?”

Sighing, you went along with his antics. "I wanted to make my mark in the world of heroism. Everyone told me it would be hard since I couldn’t get into all the fancy schools like UA, but I’m going to prove them wrong.”

“You applied to UA?” You could hear the surprise in his voice.

"Yep, though I failed the entrance exam. But you went there, right? What was it like?”

“Well, I had to meet very high expectations because of my father’s legacy,” he sighed, forming a small cube of ice within his fingers to plop into his water. “I always felt like I wasn’t doing enough.”

“But you’re practically perfect--” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, instantly slamming a hand over your mouth afterward. “Crap--that was out of line, I--”

“You...you think I’m perfect?” Todoroki repeated, and you really couldn’t tell whether he thought that was a good thing or a bad thing. You also weren’t sure which you would have preferred.

“Well, yeah. You have a strong quirk, graduated from the UA to start your own agency only a few years after, and you’re popular with the ladies. You’re on your way to a shining career in herosim.”

“Did you really have to mention that last bit?”

“I mean, it’s true. I can think of five people who’ve had a crush on you in the past month.” You couldn’t stop your tone from going a little flat at the end, mostly because the fact so many people wanted him romantically was the bane of your existence. Why was he acting embarrassed about it, anyway? As far as you knew, getting people’s hopes up was his hobby. “We’ve been sitting here for too long,” you murmured, grabbing his hand to tug him to his feet. “Let’s dance.”

He allowed you to pull him to the center of the dance floor, lacing his fingers with yours and letting his other hand rest on your waist before you even had to ask. In between glancing around the room for the villain you were after, you cast multiple side glances at the side of Shouto’s face. Calm and collected as usual.

Todoroki Shouto had the life you could only dream of. Regardless of your every struggle to claw your way up in hero society, you knew you would never attain his level. You were destined to be nothing more than a sidekick who could be ordered around at a higher ranking hero’s whim. You still hadn’t forgotten how he had made you stand in his office for a whole minute in silence before sending you off to refill the coffee machine, of all things.

It wasn’t fair, and you hated it.

“Todoroki.”

“Hmm?” You almost went cross-eyed at how close he had ended up being after turning his head your way. His nose was barely brushing the tip of yours, his every exhale like a ghost whispering across the surface of your skin despite the mask you were wearing. “Did you spot...him?”

Without thinking, you closed your eyes and leaned in, raising your mouth to his before the rational part of your mind caught up with you. His lips were soft and fit perfectly against yours (though, to be honest, anyone would probably say that if they were kissing the Todoroki Shouto). You didn’t expect him to reciprocate the kiss, however, his lips opening slightly for a moment only to press harder against you a second later. The crowd was your ally, no one bothering to look upon the two of you when there were many more masked figures around you doing the same thing.

You broke away, only noticing now how his grip on you had tightened ever since you had initiated the kiss. Your face was burning with shame, and you couldn’t believe that you had kissed him in the middle of your frustrations, in the middle of a mission. In a complete contrast to what you were feeling at the moment, Todoroki was actually smiling. His mask was slightly askew and his face was beet red, but he was giving you the biggest grin you had ever seen from him despite the terrible mistake you had just made.

“Wow,” he breathed, the hand on your waist flying up to run through his hair. “I never thought...you felt the same way I did.”

What?

Shouto was rambling now, voice uncharacteristically brighter and not letting you get a word in edge-wise. You listened with growing horror as he told you briefly about his past, and how his friends at UA helped him work through his trauma to become a better person and believe in relying on others. “I love how you’re so hard working and determined to pursue what you’re passionate about,” he said earnestly. “I feel like we have that in common, because we’re so different from what everyone else says we are, or what we should be. I tried to find reasons to talk to you more often, but I only ended up making things weird, like--”

“The coffee machine,” you finished vaguely.

“Yeah,” he said, giving your hand (that had been encased in his this whole time) a gentle squeeze. “I apologize if I’m talking too much, I’m just so...”

You had been horribly misinterpreting this situation the whole time. It all made sense now. From the awkward way the two of you always interacted to why you of all people were requested to go on a mission like this...

How could you have judged him upon first glance, without even knowing his full story? You saw his family fame and strength and automatically assumed he had no problems in life whatsoever. The scar on his face was a sign of the pain he had faced in his past and overcome. How could you let your jealousy over something you couldn’t control overwhelm you to the point that you had kissed him out of pure spite?

He didn’t deserve to be lied to. Out of all the people he could have chosen to crush on, he chose you (a horrible decision, really). You had to tell him the truth.

“Todoroki,” you began hesitantly, already dreading the conversation to come. “Listen, I--”

“Wait,” Shouto hissed, pressing a finger over your mouth to gesture at a spot behind you. “He’s here. On your left. Are you ready?”

It was unnerving how quickly he slipped from looking like he was on cloud nine to focused on the mission, and it only made you more uneasy. Not trusting your voice at that moment, all you could do was nod, and he gave you another of those rare smiles you never saw offered to anyone else.

“Oh, and you can call me Shouto.”

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

Apprehending the villain was child’s play while working with pro hero Shouto. You had to admit you were slightly distracted the whole time at the fact that he had allowed you to be on first name basis with him literally seconds before.

But in no time at all the villain was being carted away by the police and you were standing in front of Todoroki once again in the middle of the road, his face illuminated by the bright lights of the city at nighttime. “Good work today, hero,” he said, taking off his mask to put it in his pocket, and you winced. After you told him the truth, would he still think the same way about you?

"I’m sorry,” you said, voice shaking despite your best efforts.

“What? What for?”

You explained everything to him. How you hated him in the beginning, purely because he had (or seemed to have) the life you wished you had out of your own self-interest. How you had judged him without even getting to properly know him first outside the rumors.

You could see the light in his eyes visibly fade the longer you kept talking. “Why did you kiss me, then?” he asked, voice pleading at the end like he was still trying to hold on to any hope that things between the two of you were going to turn out okay. “You wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t return my affections, right?”

“I kissed you out of spite,” you whispered. “It didn’t mean anything.”

He scoffed, turning away so all you could see of him was his back. “To you.”

As he began to walk away, you saw that he had taken the mask from the party out of his suit pocket. There was a small thud as he let it fall from his fingers onto the concrete sidewalk, continuing down the road and leaving you on the sidewalk with nothing but your own regret to keep you company.

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

one year event masterlist

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iworshipkeanureeves · 4 years

Text

Denim Dreams (Scott Favor x Reader)

A/N: This is My Own Private Idaho fanfiction requested by @jadore-keanu30, I also managed to slip in a small part about Scott being ticklish as requested by anon. And maybe let’s imagine this is AU where Mike is not in love with Scott.

Summary: Your friend Mike introduces you to Scott Favor, but you hate him at first. Scott, however, persistently tries to get your attention.

Warnings: language, smut

Words: 2,7 K

Woken by a doorbell, you rolled out of bed grunting. You were never a morning person, so it made you internally scream at whoever was behind that door. To your surprise, it was Mike, and even though you were sort of friends, he would rarely show up at your doorstep, especially this early.

“You can come in, my mom’s at work,” you invited Mike in, but he seemed hesitant to go.

“I thought we could get breakfast,” Mike suggested, leaning on your door frame.

“Are you asking me on a date?” you chuckled teasing him, when you knew this was never going to be the case.

“You’re not exactly my type,” he replied giving you an impish smile, and you rolled your eyes tying your hair up in a messy bun.

“Just give me a minute to change,” you said still wearing pajama and disappeared into your room, leaving him at a doorstep.

------

Mike and you were supportive of each other, but you weren’t particularly that kind of friends who would hang out together much, so all of this was a surprise.

“What’s the occasion?” you wondered as you and Mike were entering a diner.

“I wanted to thank you for saving my ass yesterday,” he replied, with his eyes stuck to the ground, as usual.

In fact, you had saved Mike’s ass many times before. Working at a movie theater, you would help him hide in one of the auditoria, usually from his clients and sometimes from the cops too. You had an understanding of what Mike was doing to get by. Yet, you two had an agreement that he wouldn’t involve you in his business further than that.

After much consideration, you decided to get a burger, which wasn’t a typical breakfast food, but you had a strong craving and it was already after 11 AM, so technically it could have been almost considered lunch. Mike was silent as usual, munching on his waffles, occasionally lifting his eyes to stare into a quiet street, and you could never tell what he was thinking about.

Just as you were about to take a next bite, you sensed the seat next to you caving in. Suddenly, you were being accompanied by a tall dark haired guy. He and Mike exchanged “Hey”s, so you assumed he was probably one of Mike’s friends. You didn’t know him, and it felt weird how he sat next to you instead of Mike. Not that it made you uncomfortable, but you found it rude, especially because he was coarsely invading your private space.

“I’m Scott, I’m Mike’s…”

“I know who you are,” you cut him off, after hearing the name. You recognized him from Mike’s stories. “Mike has told me about you,” you added and went on with another bite of your heavenly delicious burger.

Even though Mike had spoken only favorably about Scott, from what you had heard, you couldn’t approve him. You didn’t like the fact that Scott was privileged with his trust funds and did what he did only for fun. You believed that he would leave Mike any day to get back to his prosperous life, and you knew how much it would hurt your friend. Therefore, Scott was your enemy, even if you hadn’t met him before.

“She’s Y/N,” Mike mumbled, after a long silent pause around the table, and you choked a little looking up to give him a discontent glance.

“What a chatty girl,” Scott hissed ironically, raising his hand for a waitress to come.

“She’s just not an early bird, it’s too soon for her chirps,” Mike intervened, trying to cushion the conversation after seeing your face all frowned.

If Scott really wanted to talk, you decided to go at him.

“Don’t you feel like a fraud here?” you spoke calmly. “This life you’re living for the moment, isn’t it just one of your whims, until you choose to move on to something better?”

You already knew the real answer, you were just curious to see what Scott saw in all of this.

“So just because I’m going to inherit my family funds, it means I can’t live the life I honestly enjoy? Does it always have to be connected to money?”

His emphasis was on enjoyment, and you knew well, it was a brittle, fleeting thing. Yeah, even if this was the life he truly fancied, it was for a short moment only, and that moment was about to end meaning that someone would get hurt. Your dear Mike, most probably.

After finishing the last few sips of your drink, you gather you stuff and were about to put your jacket on.

“Leaving so soon?” Scott scoffed with his obnoxious exhale, and you could almost feel your blood beginning to boil.

“Work,” you looked at him with a painfully fake smile. “Some of us here”, you said pointing between you and Mike, “have to actually earn a living, we have no rich daddies to run to.”

You looked at Scott, implying he should really move, but he seemed to enjoy annoying you and wasn’t going to go anywhere. Playing his game, you decided to just climb over him, sticking your tight-fitted ass right in front of his face, wiggling it a little to tease him even more. Approaching the door, you turned around to give Mike one last goodbye, proudly witnessing Scott’s hand in a pocket, adjusting his emerging boner.

------

It was your usual day at work operating cash register, putting up a smile to everyone and kindly accepting their complaints about high prices and lack of interesting movies, as if it was personally your fault that this theater was kind of shitty.

Just as you thought it couldn’t get worse, it surely did.

What the hell, you thought, looking at Scott entering the movie theater, weirdly alone and still not losing that annoying smile of his.

“Hey there,” Scott spoke, leaning with his elbow on top of your desk. It left you speechless for a moment, as you were astonished by his audacity to come visit you at work. “Come get a drink with me,” he demanded.

“Don’t you see I’m working?” you couldn’t believe his oblivion. How self-centered could he possibly be?

“What about later?”

“Later? Oh yeah, still working,” you smiled mockingly. Scott seemed to be getting a little frustrated and there were no words to describe how much you enjoyed it.

“Fine, then one ticket to Bird on a Wire,” Scott requested, reaching for his wallet.

“Magic word?” you kept taunting him, squeezing every bit of his patience, though he seemed to be holding on surprisingly well.

“Please?” he grunted, slipping you a few bills.

“Rich boy with no manners, what could be worse?” you grinned, shaking your head, handing him the ticket.

Scott only cracked a smile. “See you around,” he said leaving your desk.

You really hoped this wouldn’t be the case, but oh boy, he was not wrong.

------

Scott came in the next week to see Back to the Future III, no stupid flirting this time. He directly asked for the ticket, and even added please, learning from his mistakes. Of course he was nice, it was probably his tactics to get you go out with him, but you knew better than that.

The problem was Scott’s persistence, as he kept on coming every night, and you would chat a little more each time. It was usually about Mike, but other things too. There was something frightening about letting him too close and you would have to remind yourself to keep a distance.

Every time you wanted to change the topic, you could turn to movies, because at some point Scott had probably seen more of those than you had. He saw Total Recall, Dick Tracy, Robocop 2, Days of Thunder, Die Hard 2, well, basically everything the theater was screening for the moment.

Indeed everything.

It seemed like you were unintentionally seeing Scott more than you were seeing Mike, and it drove you crazy. You started asking around if he also came on nights when you weren’t working, hoping that maybe he had just discovered his passion for movies. But that wasn’t the case.

------

One night Scott showed up looking different. His hair was messy, jeans were tighter, and he had a denim jacket on. It was buttoned up, but you could see that he was wearing nothing underneath. You felt bad for finding this tempting, but you couldn’t help it. Anyway, you didn’t have to like Scott as a person to admit how sexy he actually was.

“Hey,” you greeted him. “I don’t think we have a movie that you haven’t seen yet,” you continued, getting rid of all the scorn that you used to have in your voice before. Honestly, you were tired of torturing him, and he genuinely seemed not that bad. At least better than you had expected him to be after the first day of meeting him at that diner.

“Well, then I’ll have to watch Die Hard again,” Scott giggled, suggesting that he didn’t mind it, he just enjoyed coming to the theater.

After handing Scott the ticket, you realized that there might be a day when he wouldn’t come anymore. Or even worse, he would bring someone with him, another girl maybe. You couldn’t believe your thoughts, and how upset it made you. It felt like you were betraying yourself, but there was nothing you could do.

Fuck. You were falling for him

------

It was getting late and the majority of tonight’s screenings had ended, you were washing your hands in the ladies room, thinking about what needed to be done before closing up for the day. You couldn’t believe it when you caught yourself looking in the mirror to adjust your make-up and a few stray hairs, thinking you might meet Scott again.

After all, this wasn’t a bad decision, because just as you were leaving the restroom, your eyes met Scott, who was inspecting movie posters in the empty hallway. He must have heard the door shut, because he immediately turned your way. Was he following you? Waiting for you? You couldn’t tell, but honestly, you didn’t care any longer. You mind was captured by his unbuttoned jacket, exposing his bare stomach, and a scar running along his abs line, leaving you powerless against him.

Coming closer to meet Scott, you felt yourself giving in. He had already put too much time into all this, for it to be just another of his games. Scott was being nice to you, so why push him away? It’s not like you were going to marry him and live happily ever after, but giving him a chance would be something. Something you might even enjoy.

Scott was inches away, glancing down into your eyes. His messy hair was casting shadow over his dark gaze, making you weak in your knees. After looking around, very timidly you ran your fingertips through his exposed scar, feeling his radiating skin. You wanted him so badly, you could feel the heat accumulating between your legs just thinking about it.

Felt like it was now or never, and you decided to go for it.

“Do you have a condom?” you whispered, glancing at him.

“What if I do?” Scott asked, trying to play cool, but you could see the surprise in his eyes.

“Then it’s your lucky day,” you giggled dragging him back to the ladies room, into one of the stalls.

“What if somebody catch us? Aren’t you going to lose your job?” Scott slowed down a little.

“I hate this job,” you smirked, closing the door and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer into a kiss.

You were delicate at first, slowly tasting his fleshy lips, your hands wandering along his sides, slowly reaching inside the jacket, your fingertips brushing his satin skin. Just as you reached Scott’s ribs, you felt his muscles tense and he bounced back a little with a giggle leaving his mouth.

“What a sensitive boy,” you smirked, pulling him closer again, invading his mouth with your tongue this time, writing your name inside his throat. Scott’s palms were on your ass, squeezing it tightly, his bulge pressing on your stomach, throbbing in his tight jeans.

Scott was slowly lifting the hem of your skirt, his hands getting closer to your heat, fidgeting with your skin, and then you felt his fingertips tucked inside your panties, dragging them down. His fingers were navigating through your folds, finding your swollen clit, and rubbing circles on it, while he was passionately kissing your lips.

An unexpected moan left your mouth and Scott had to cover it firmly with his palm, giving you a displeased stare. Finding this funny, you naughtily took two of Scott’s fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, hollowing your cheeks and gazing into his dark lustful eyes, while his other hand was skillfully working your clit. You wanted to scream at how good it felt.

As you were unzipping Scott’s jeans, you felt two of his fingers smoothly sliding inside of your throbbing pussy, slowly stretching you before you take him.

“You’re tight, baby, I want to prepare you a little bit,” he whispered, but the time wasn’t on your side, knowing the theater would be closing soon.

“We have to be quick,” you moaned, dragging his jeans down, and pushing him onto the covered seat. Scott’s thick fingers fell out of you and he took them in his mouth, slowly licking your juices off, maintaining a sultry eye contact. The sight gave you shivers, and the pressure in your lower stomach was getting unbearable.

“So sweet,” he said licking his lips, and went into his pocket to grab a silver packet.

While Scott was giving himself a few strokes and sliding a condom on, you stepped out of your panties that had been left hanging between your ankles and straddled him. Feeling his tip brushing against your slit, you helped him line with your entrance and lowered yourself gradually. He was really big and you felt flames in your walls, but Scott was patiently waiting for you to adjust, his fingers softly brushing your hair.

Getting more comfortable, you started moving faster, taking him all in, feeling his length hitting you in the right spot. Scott’s hands were on your hips keeping your balance, and his lips were placing wet kisses all over your neck. Every thrust was audible with your skin slapping against each other and your wet pussy splashing every time he went all the way in.

Scott had noticed that your thighs were getting tired, so he stood up with you hanging around him, your legs wrapped across his waist. With your back set against the wall, Scott drove into you with force, you could feel and hear his balls slapping your ass and you felt your release coming.

“Scott, I’m close, please just don’t stop,” you whimpered, with incoherent cries leaving your throat, as you felt him pushing even harder. Your abdomen cramped and you came undone with moans that were probably too loud, but you couldn’t care less.

Scott was still jamming into you vigorously, grunting as he came hard, stalling inside of you, with his throbbing cock pulsating against your walls. He was panting, as he looked up to you and smiled, “You’re good?” he asked, catching his breath. But you only managed to nod eagerly, as he was letting your feet to the ground, pulling out of you slowly.

With remaining tingles in your belly, you put your panties on and carefully peeked out to see if it was safe to leave. Leading the way, you held Scott’s hand and asked him to wait outside the restroom until you fixed your hair and make up, again. You wanted to hate yourself for this, but instead of feeling guilt or regret, you could only feel ecstasy in your veins. This was too good to let go.

As you were leaving the restroom, Scott greeted you with a wide grin, taking you by the hand. “I know this isn’t the exact order of how relationships go, but how about that drink now?” he asked modestly.

“Fine, just let me drop my uniform,” you smiled, rising on your toes to give him a little kiss and disappeared into the staff room.

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crimsonbluemoon · 4 years

Note

6, 3, 7 H2OVanoss! You know me heh ( •ॢᴗ•ॢ⋈)

Ahhh Owlbun! So I hope this fits the perimeters of a cute-meet cause I don’t know if it does but I think it does? Idk, its cute, please enjoy this mess of a story. >.> It’s a diff style than I normally do, but….hope it works out!

AU: Coffee shopTrope: Meet cutePrompt: “You had no idea, did you?”

Pairing: H2O Vanoss

If Evan was being honest, he hadn’t expected the chalkboard wall at his coffee shop to make much of a difference. The Owl Cafe was a staple in the community, and he had an okay group of regulars that liked to come in and check out his new blends on the daily. There were ones he knew by name, like the 6 year old girl Momo who loved Brian’s hot chocolate, or the late-night writer Kryoz who always seemed to appear when the place was deserted. Some regulars he didn’t catch names for, so he titled them as he saw fit; Runner man, vlogger teen, cute sweatshirt guy. All had their place in his cafe, which was steady in its sales. He wasn’t rolling in cash, but it was enough to pay Brock and Brian, so he felt that he was doing alright.

The chalkboard had been something of a whim. A friend when he was younger had a wall in his bedroom with chalkboard paint that Evan had always enjoyed drawing on before bed. When he’d bought the cafe two years ago, he hadn’t really remembered the fun times he had scribbling across the bedroom wall. He was too focused on payments and attracting customers to stroll down memory lane. That had changed three months ago when bumping into Lui, the two speaking about their times as a child. The wall came up, of course, and Evan couldn’t let the memory go for days after. Lots of his customers had children, and college kids were always quick to bore when waiting for coffee. So one night, after a really good week at the shop, Evan went out and bought the paint in order to make his wall next to the waiting area a drawing board.

The result was amazing; people loved coming by and adding their own doodles to the wall, filling it with different styles of art or funny sayings. There were always the punks who tried to draw dicks or write derogatory marks, but street justice tended to stop the crimes far quicker than Evan or his friends picked up on them. Evan enjoyed looking at the board at the end of the night, seeing what secrets it held from the customers he served. He tried to guess who drew what, or where each blurb of inspiration writing came from. Was the struggling mother of three the one who drew the calm beach? Did the preppy college girl express her darker thoughts in the corner of the board? Or was that old couple who shared a coffee really sweet enough to write their 70th anniversary with a heart around it? All of the pieces of the board was a collection of minds, hearts, and souls, and the nights didn’t feel complete for the shop owner without gazing at them in appreciation.

His favorite part was the confessions; like an anonymous message board, people left words of secrecy every day. Evan felt it was a safe way for customers to express themselves without having to reveal their identity, and so far he hadn’t gotten any confessions that worried him. Brock always enjoyed reading the romantic ones where someone would claim their love for a friend, an ex, or a person they could never have. Brian’s favorites were the weird claims; he made Evan keep the ‘I like smelling feet’ confession up for three days. Evan couldn’t really say he had a type he sought out, because all of them were fun to read. If anything, he liked taking in the handwriting of the confessions, seeing whose were quaking with fear or more broad with confidence that only anonymity provided.

It was nearly two months into owning the board that a message caught his eye; it didn’t have much color or outlandish design to it, so Evan wasn’t sure why it stuck out to him so much. But the writing just…looked different. Friendly. A little messy but with long enough strokes to show some care went into it. The words only took up a small part of the board.

I come here every day because I think the owner is nice. And maybe cute? I wanted to ask for his name, but I’m too nervous.

Evan blinked in surprise, feeling his face heat up when he read it again. Someone…confessed about him? It was sort of risky, since this was his shop and he could have checked in on the board at any time, but it was also endearing. Someone was too shy to approach Evan, but felt strong enough about him to confess on his wall? He read the line two more times while he cleaned off every other drawing and confession, leaving the words in the middle of the board. Slowly, his eyes dropped down to the basket of chalk at the bottom of the wall, fingers twitching by his side. Despite having it for months, he’d never actually written on it. He left designing the morning greeting to Brock, as he was the artistic one of the three. But now…

He kept the confession where it was, drawing a little circle around it with the red chalk. Then, with block letters bright enough to catch any returning customer’s attention, he wrote out a simple reply.

It’s Evan. Nice to meet you.

He didn’t think about the teasing Brian would rain on him, or how unlikely it was for him to get a response. The confessions were meant to be anonymous, not openers for conversation. So sure that his words would be left unanswered, Evan didn’t look once at the board the following day, trying to keep focused on making his customer’s happy. Any time he wasn’t working, he rushed into the back, trying to stay occupied so he didn’t stare at the wall. The day dragged on forever, but when the final customer was out the door, Evan nearly fell flat on his face vaulting over the counter to move to the board.

“Desperate much, buddy?” Brian’s shout from across the shop went ignored when Evan scanned the wall, looking for any sign of a response. At first, the words around the response were disheartening; nothing connected to what he’d said. The drawings were still cute, and he wanted to read the confessions, but his heart slightly dropped at the sight. Had he scared off the anonymous messenger? He felt his frown start to capture his lips, but then his eye picked up on something. A blue circle had been wrapped around Evan’s words, and a line of chalk was drawn to the left of the board. Curious, his eyes tracked the line. Like thread in a maze, Evan was led to a familiar handwriting.

Your name fits you! I’m…Jonathan. Is that okay?

“Jonathan.” He rolled the name around in his mouth, his smile small when he finished. He knew instantly what his new secret penpal was asking, and he found the red chalk from before in order to scribble out his answer.

That’s totally okay. I bet your name fits you, too, though I’m not sure who you are. Care to give me a hint?

And for the next two weeks, the hints poured out.

I like to wear blue a lot. Luke says it matches my eyes. But I think yours are prettier.

Evan counted seventy three customers with blue eyes who wore blue that day, but it did little to limit his search.

I saw you drop that lady’s coffee on purpose. She deserved it for treating Brock like that. You’re a really good boss.

The incident had been in the morning around rush hour, which probably meant his penpal was at least his age.

You only wear hats when you clean the mocha machine; it really looks good on you.

Except this was something he did at night, so maybe he had different shifts throughout the week?

Whenever little Momo comes in, you always give her the best smile. Sometimes I wish you’d smile at me like that.

Evan’s face hurt from how many smiles he gave out that day, but there had been nobody who hinted at knowing why he’d been grinning so much.

You’re so beautiful. I really want to ask you on a date.

Evan’s face flush red for the rest of the night.

After the days of trying to piece together just who ‘Jonathan’ was, Evan was almost ready to throw in the towel. The little banter between them was fun, and peeks of Jonathan’s personality came out with doodles or smilies at the end of his sentences. He mentioned his friends, his dog, and if Evan closed his eyes, he could almost make out a voice to the words. Everything just felt so familiar about this guy, like he was already seated comfortably in Evan’s life. But he just couldn’t come up with a name, or anything to sink his teeth into.

So, with a shot of courage (Brian may have supplied the alcohol) and nothing to lose, Evan wrote out one final message.

Anything but coffee, and I’ll say yes.

Evan tried not to look at the board, just like the first day, hoping he wouldn’t scare away his crush by staring the wall down. Brock and Brian helped distract him, jokingly picking out old men and toddlers as ‘his secret admirer’ before laughing at the outlandish suggestions. Evan tried to smile and joke with them, but his shaking hands when giving out the orders always proved how nervous he was. Each time a customer came up to him, his back tensed, wondering if it’d be his penpal. But they never were, always asking for sugar or a bag for their half eaten muffin.

When the last minutes of the day ticked away, and just a few regular souls lingered in the cafe, Evan finally broke. He left Brian and Brock behind the counter to walk up to the wall, hands shoved in the pockets of the apron to hide his twitching fingers. Slowly, his eyes scanned the board, trying to find the blue handwriting he’d grown to adore over the couple weeks he’d gotten to see it. But there was nothing; his crush hadn’t replied.

“I scared him away.” Evan sighed and pressed his head to the chalkboard, eyes closing in defeat. His shoulders slumped down, unable to hide his disappointment. He’d just wanted to know who this guy was, because starting to fall for a chalkboard he technically owned was starting to feel a little creepy-

“Um.” An unsure voice made Evan bite back a groan, trying to keep his composure. Even if he was being ghosted by an anonymous customer, it didn’t mean he could ignore his other ones. Pulling back from the wall, Evan turned to catch sight of a familiar face. Cute sweatshirt guy had been a regular for months, always polite but never one to really engage in much conversation with Evan or the others. He always contributed it to the slight stutter in his speech, which only seemed to come out in longer sentences. It was actually kind of late for cute sweatshirt guy to be at the cafe; he’d bought his coffee close to an hour ago, and though he normally left right after, he’d seemed to linger now. He’d been one of the people who’d come up to Evan, looking like he was going to burst out in a confession, only to ask for creamer.

And sugar.

And a new cup.

…And more creamer.

For a coffee he always drank black.

“Wait.” Evan’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes widened on the blue gaze nervously watching him, fingers curled into the worn down sweatshirt that was identical in color.

“Yeah, I’m-that was me. Jonathan. Who you were-I’m the guy tha–that, um, fuck. Luke said I should’ve just-but the wall was…was our thing.” Jonathan’s face lit up in color at the confession, the nervous laugh that poured out loud and uncontrolled. It echoed from the emptiness of the cafe, and both men jumped when Brian swore and knocked over a stack of cups in surprise. Tagging that as future Evan’s problem, he turned his attention back to Jonathan, who looked ready to let his sweatshirt swallow him whole. The smile he gave only lifted half his mouth, proving he didn’t feel confident. “You had no idea, did you?”

“None,” Evan admitted, hands pulling out of his apron at the defeated look that sunk over Jonathan.

“Right, that’s- I don’t have to ask you on a date if this isn’t what you…if I’m not who you-”

“Ask me!” Evan cut him off fast, not wanting to let Jonathan feel rejected for a second longer. He rushed forward, snagging hands that tugged the end of torn sleeves to entwine their fingers. Blue eyes widened above him, but Evan refused to let his racing heart of reddened cheeks stop him from repeating his confession from before. “Anything but coffee, and I’ll say yes.”

“Dinner? Can I-would you like to get food with me tomorrow?” Like a puppy, Jonathan’s body perked up at the possibility. Evan laughed before lifting their hands to cup Jonathan’s cheeks. He pushed up onto his toes, feeling the slight intake of his customer’s breath before he answered with a kiss.

But just to be safe, he wrote ‘yes’ on the chalkboard the next morning.

#kihoori #H2O Vanoss #H2O Delirious #VanossGaming #OTP boys #<3 #Crimson drabblez

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wincore · 4 years

Note

hiii moonnn !! for the kiss prompt , may I request johnny pls 🥺 place: under the stars & love as the reason ! tysm this is an honour bc u’re one of my fave nct writers 😙💖

thank u darling for enjoying my writing!!

theme: boyfriend!au, demigod!au (greek mythology)

“So…are you gonna tell me why you brought me up here or…?”

“Do I need a reason?” Johnny grins at you, chin resting on his forearms atop the roof of his car.

“I can’t help but think you’re up to something,“ you state, narrowing your eyes at him from the other side.

Johnny lets out a short chuckle before closing the door of the car and motioning for you to follow. When your boyfriend said he’s taking you on an adventure, you quite literally had no clue what to expect. Everything’s an adventure to the man—even if it’s just going out at 3 a.m. to get hot ramen from the convenience store right beside your apartment. You didn’t think it’d be an hour drive, dozing off on Johnny’s shoulder by the time you reached.

You take two steps after him before you gasp.

“Don’t tell me we’re meeting your dad!”

The blood drains from your face at the idea. A God among Gods—you wish that were an understatement—is unlikely to meet mere human beings on a whim, lesser beings as one of the other demigod children had labeled bitterly. He’s a God, feared and admired since times of war and prayers. So what gives you, a mortal, enough confidence to face someone as divine, as powerful? It makes you uneasy.

You shake out of your trance to find Johnny laughing, doubled over.

“We’re not really meeting him but- you’re that scared of my dad?” he says, calming down from his fit. “Even I’m not that terrified of him, babe.”

“Shut up,” you say, cheeks coloring. “It’s not exactly everyday I meet someone who can smite me out of existence.”

“Relax! He’s pretty easy-going,” your boyfriend reassures you, taking hold of your hand. “Besides, he likes hanging out at the beach. And he’s got, like, a bajillion other kids to worry about.”

You rub your thumb over his knuckles, a sigh leaving your lips.

“He can’t be that bad,” you mumble, feeling somewhat sorry.

“Oh,” Johnny says with a dismissive tone, “Pretty sure he’s won worst dad of the year several times, actually. Only beaten by Zeus himself.”

You want to laugh but you stiffen.

“Are you allowed to say his name like that?!” You lower your voice, eyes shifting around nervously.

“If Zeus could hear everyone saying his name, he’d be, uh, hearing some delicate words pretty often.” Johnny shrugs. “And then we’d have more thunderstorms.“

You laugh, easing, Johnny’s eyes lighting up at the sound. They always make you feel warm in the chest, with how pretty those almond eyes are. He tugs at your hand, and you follow him up a beaten road before diverging into a less visible track.

It’s a long walk uphill, however, and Johnny has it easy when his legs are so fucking long. The wind gets chilly and you cling onto Johnny’s hand for a little piece of warmth. A break would be nice. You stop halfway through, swearing at your boyfriend for choosing such a godforsaken place but continue nonetheless when he frowns, a look in his eyes you don’t want to upset.

Johnny doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time. He’s been this way since you started dating, perhaps even before—a little protective with the need to feel your touch at all times. It’s understandable and you found it endearing despite how often he refuses to let go. (And his strength and stature make it next to impossible to break free.)

It wasn’t hard to tell there was something off about your boyfriend; maybe not the first or second time you met him, but eventually, it was clear. You met in university after all, and it’s not the full uni experience unless all your secrets are laid bare by the end of first year.

Johnny was a natural people person, everyone drawn to him like he was made of honey, of things so sweet. But there was something about him, oh it nagged you day and night, a silvery whisper. The way he spoke, the way he smiled—there was a quiet difference you just couldn’t put your finger on. He’s aced every athletics club entrance test for fun, a little awkward at reading his text material and always hanging around the swimming pool for too long—gosh, were the number of people ogling him extraordinarily high then. There were so many hints and you’d missed all of them.

You’ve met demigods before, just not one like this. Johnny was almost unworldly were it not for his habit of making everyone feel at ease. It took you a while to figure out.

Son of Poseidon, gentle eyes and sun-crinkles—how could you miss it? The way he smells of golden amber and sea musk, calloused hands and deep eyes, just all of him, really. It was hard to not find him attractive. But it was harder to answer if that was all.

The place gets closer—you know because you can see a soft smile forming on Johnny’s face. You quicken your pace to match his footsteps, curiosity peaking as you notice your boyfriend get giddier.

The water glows a gentle blue, in contrast with the darker shade of its surroundings. They reflect the stars, their shine not dulled through the distance and a certain twinkling you haven’t seen in them in quite a while. Water lilies bloom bright, small frogs jumping in and out of the water. There might be some fish too but they’re elusive, invisible if you try too hard to spot them.

It’s a clear sky tonight. You sigh at the warmth, quite possibly a result of the habitation around here but you’re glad it soothes the cool air. (”You like this kind of thing, don’t you?” “Hm, yeah.”)

“You will not believe how I had to impress the Naiads to find this place,“ Johnny tells you, walking closer to the spring to stand beside you.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, the implication of his words not quite what you expected. “Impress, huh?”

“No- babe, that’s not- I mean, of course not,“ Johnny looks at you with mock hurt.

“Naiads do love a son of Poseidon,“ you mumble, turning away to face the waters.

Johnny wraps his arms around you, resting his chin atop your head. “Oh, but this son of Poseidon only loves you.”

“Johnny, that’s cheesy,” you say looking down, the heat quite rushed to your cheeks. You want to call him an idiot but the word falls short.

“But you’re enjoying it,” he hums.

“I enjoy everything about you.”

You feel Johnny shake with soft laughter, swaying gently at his own pace. You don’t know when you started to see Johnny in most everything—in the new dog cafes, in midnight city rains, in children playing volleyball. Call it love, call it more.

You turn around. “I—”

Johnny presses his mouth against yours in a kiss that makes you melt and you clutch the fabric of his hoodie for support. His arms wind around your waist, secure as always and he hums when you push against him.

“Baby’s getting bolder, hm?” he murmurs between kisses with a laugh. You respond with a weak sound.

You remember the first time you kissed him, not quite sober and he had pushed you away only to spend the night with you. The whiskey still burns on your tongue sometimes.

You don’t need to see fireworks when you kiss, just taste the late night coffee and a bit of Johnny.

A son of a God and his lips, tongue, fingers, love—the texts and scribes were nothing close to describing it perfectly. You forget the words you meant to tell him.

But you don’t have to say ‘I love you’; it’s there in your mouth and he can taste it.

“No, I don’t wanna listen to the minotaur story again!” Johnny shakes you by the shoulders. “It’s literally the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

“But why? I think it’s funny—”

“Yeah, Dad’s very creative but…gross.”

You laugh at his disgust, nose wrinkled and a mild shaking of his head.

“Tell me another story,” he says, leaning in, “Something more…romantic.”

You breathe out quickly at the sudden proximity, heart in your throat. His smile grows and you resist the urge to huff at him. He’s unbearable when he knows he’s under your skin. Gods, it was harder to admit you fell in love with him than it was to find out his heritage.

You reach out and move the hair out of his face, marveling at how he manages to keep it soft when he used to be a sweaty college student pretty often. Memories are funny in a way, they keep you so closely tied. There’s an embarrassing amount of pictures of him on your phone, the ones he sent from the dorms, from his new job, sometimes family photos during holidays. It gets busy a lot, but sometimes, just sometimes, it’s like this.

You wonder if Gods get to have happy endings. You wonder if there’s more to the constellations they made.

“Hello?” Johnny pretends to knock on your forehead.

“Something more romantic, hm? Okay,” you say and he goes back to laying his head on your lap, twirling the water in wisps around his fingers to spell random words. You bend to press a kiss to his forehead, a surprised smile wavering onto his face as the water splashes beside you.

“Baby, you might want to have aimed lower.” Johnny winks at you.

“You’re so annoying. I’m in love with you.”

#nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct johnny scenarios #nct blurbs #nct 127 blurbs #nct au #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct johnny fluff #kiss prompts #moonwrites #a full nct demigod au pls discuss #once upon a time.....i used to be a fast writer.......#i rlly wish i could write the demigod part better but id digress too much hhhhh

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