#no worries I’m just going to be a sop for the next Whenever. needed to jot it down. explain myself haha | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-last-kenobi · 3 years

Note

Hi, how are you? Hope all is well) Can you please write "Where have you been" with Anakin and a very very depressed and sad Obi?

Of course!

From this various prompts list.

I admit I wasn’t sure exactly which angle you were hoping for, but this is the one my brain liked, so here we are.

Anakin’s hand shook slightly as he ran the cloth over the glass mug, turning it in his hands. Water beaded up in the wake of his first attempt, so he went back again a little slower, making sure he left no smudges behind. Then he carefully placed it in the cabinet where it belonged, each shelf lined with different mugs, most of them glass, a few of them seemingly random — porcelain, wood, something that looked like clay, a deep red crystalline substance.

Anakin knew that the ones that weren’t glass had all, once, belonged to Qui-Gon.

They were used rarely. Carefully. Cherished like treasures.

The rest, the glass, those were Obi-Wan’s.

He liked the perfection of glass, its transparency, the way he could watch the teas he brewed and steeped changing, colors swirling and fading beneath his fingers.

Anakin found them difficult to maintain and hard to clean.

His hand shook again, and he quickly put down the towel and set aside the next mug, turning away from the still untidy kitchen.

His gloved metal hand raked through his hair.

It was late.

It was very late.

He walked to the window and brushed aside the curtain with one hand, confronted first with his own ghostly reflection, and then focusing on the view outside. It was pouring down rain. A rare enough occurrence here on Coruscant, and tonight, of all nights, when Obi-Wan could be out there.

He could be anywhere.

Anakin didn’t know.

Obi-Wan had been missing for twenty-nine hours.

He had walked out of their shared quarters while Anakin was visiting Padmé, sometime in the early evening yesterday, leaving his cloak behind, leaving his lightsaber behind.

And then he was gone.

Anakin had searched all the usual places. He’d reached out to Dex, and alerted Mace Windu and Healer Che, and sent Ahsoka to check with the crèche and Initiates dorm in case he was there playing with and teaching the little ones. He’d contacted Bail and Padmé, and gained permission after the twelve hour mark to examine the security holos.

There was nothing.

It was as if Obi-Wan Kenobi had stepped over the threshold of their door and just fallen out of existence.

Anakin watched rain lash against the window, scattering his pale reflection into twisted fragments, and tried to remind himself that he had already been searching for twenty-five hours straight. That he hadn’t slept or eaten. That Master Koon had forbidden him from going out into the storm to search, when they already had rested and armored troopers doing a steady sweep of the Temple perimeter, even when they didn’t know if Obi-Wan had actually left the grounds.

The Temple was massive.

He could be hiding in an unused wing, or in the depths of the dustiest levels, or in the back of the Archives, or the towers.

No, not the Archives. Master Nu had already searched there and that woman would never miss so much as a hair out of place in her domain, much less a High Councilor.

Anakin had heard Master Mundi making noises about a possible trap or an abduction.

And while that was bad — nightmarish — to contemplate, Anakin had his own fears, and they felt much more realistic, much too close for comfort.

Anakin flung himself down on the sofa with his head in his hands and tried not to admit that he was frightened.

He had seen Obi-Wan like this before. Back when they were a new partnership and Qui-Gon was dead but there was still so much of him living in the Temple, like the mugs, one still the on the countertop with a faint imprint of his lips staining the rim, or his spare cloaks and boots, and the trinkets and potted plants that filled every available space. And Obi-Wan had...

Well. Whenever he thought Anakin wasn’t paying attention, he was so quiet. He barely slept for days and then slept too much. He hardly ate and then ate random things at random times. He hardly smiled.

He wandered off.

Alone.

The worst time had been when Anakin was six months in to his apprenticeship. He had woken up with a terribly bad feeling to find his Master missing from his bed, and with the unerring instinct of a worried child, he had shot off in search of Master Yoda, who had quietly raised the alarm amongst the older Masters. It was Master Windu who had found Obi-Wan, quiet and shrunken and apathetic, concealed in one of the many gardens, letting the life of the garden conceal his dimming force signature from view.

Anakin had clung to him like he was about to disappear, and Obi-Wan hadn’t seemed to really process that he was there...

Eventually he had pulled out of it. Anakin didn’t know how.

But this...

Anakin had been worried since Geonosis that he would lose his Master to death on the battlefield. Then there had been Ventress and Jabiim and Grievous and Dooku and Maul — Maul — and suddenly it felt like Obi-Wan was never safe. The war and his enemies chased him everywhere.

But Obi-Wan had lost friends and peers and younglings he had once taught or cradled in his arms when they were so very small, and his Master’s murderer had come back like a resurrected demon to plague him, to threaten his life and sanity and everyone he loved — and Satine had already paid with her life.

Others might.

And when Anakin had come racing back home from 500 Republica when he’d heard the news, it was already too late, and Obi-Wan had gone off all alone stars knew where.

That was enough.

Anakin leapt to his feet, his body trembling with fear and nausea, determined to ignore orders.

Damn their kindness and responsibility, damn the fact that he’d probably only get soaked and miserable, he was going out searching again.

Anakin strode towards the door on shaking legs.

It swung open before he neared it, and there was Obi-Wan.

Anakin gaped at him.

Obi-Wan stared blankly back. “...Anakin?”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin breathed, staring at him, taking him in. He was without his cloak and lightsaber, as he had known he would be, and was soaking wet — completely sopping, as if he had swum in a lake rather than wandered about in a rainstorm.

“Obi-Wan,” he said again, his voice strained. “Where have you been?”

His Master continued to look blank. “I went out.”

“You went out? You’ve been gone for well over a day!” Anakin cried out. “Where have you been?”

Obi-Wan shrank away from the shouting. His blue eyes flickered around the room as if looking for an answer, or perhaps an escape, and still his expression was utterly detached. “I... I don’t know, really. Here and there.”

A pause.

“Was I really gone for so long?” he asked. He sounded distantly, disinterestedly bewildered, and Anakin broke.

“Yes!” he shouted, his face screwed up in anger, in an attempt to hold back childish tears. “Yes you have! You disappeared! There are people looking for you, and the Council was worried you’d been taken, and I was so— I was — so — I— you can’t do that to me, Obi-Wan, please, I was losing my mind!”

Obi-Wan’s blank expression finally shifted.

A look of confusion and worry built behind the vague blue eyes, and Anakin launched himself at his friend like he had all those years ago, locking his limbs around him in a fierce hug.

For a long moment it was like hugging a statue. A very cold, very wet statue that shivered ever so slightly.

But Anakin held on, determined to keep Obi-Wan right here, to keep him safe and warm, to make him understand that he was needed, that he could also rest, that it would all be okay if he just stayed. Stayed like he had before. His tunics began to absorb some of the icy moisture coming off his Master but he kept holding on, his face buried in Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

And slowly, Obi-Wan came to life.

His hands inched upwards to rest against his Padawan’s back, and he tilted his head so that he was leaning against Anakin’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice muffled. “I had no idea you’d be so concerned.”

“I wasn’t concerned, you absolute idiot, I was scared,” Anakin hissed, the confession both bitter and relieving on his lips. “How would you feel if I vanished with no word? For thirty hours?”

A long silence.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully, “I would be impressed with Padmé for not getting bored of you long before that.”

There was a dead silence.

Then a spluttered, incredulous laugh, and it took Anakin a moment to realize it was he who was laughing. His shoulders shook with it, with shock at the revelation of what Obi-Wan knew, that he wasn’t angry about it, that he was cracking stupid, mean, dumb jokes about it when Anakin was trying to be mad at him.

Obi-Wan chuckled quietly, and Anakin laughed harder, delighted that his friend was smiling, if only a little.

“You’re not off the hook you know,” he mumbled, guiding Obi-Wan to his rooms, planning on forcing him to take a hot shower and drink warm tea and maybe pull out one of Qui-Gon’s old cloaks, because that always helped.

“Neither are you,” Obi-Wan mumbled back, and squeezed his hand every so briefly.

When Plo Koon dropped by to check on Anakin, very early the next morning, he found him sleeping soundly on a chair, snoring quietly, his feet propped on the arm of the sofa, where Obi-Wan was fast asleep with an old cloak that was far too large for him draped over his body.

It was easy to forgive them to forgetting to inform the Guard to call off the search.

Mace could pretend to yell at them during their next Council meeting, during which, he was sure, the two friends would stand side by side, mischief in their eyes.

#star wars fic #my writing #prompt fill #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #obi wan and anakin #qui gon jinn #master & padawan #more hugs needed #tw depression #tw disassociation #angst and fluff #everyone loves obi wan #literally everyone #mace pretends to be cranky with them but mostly he’s just #amused #and tired

208 notes · View notes

maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

The Hybrid (I)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: Thank you for being patient with me as I slowly write this series. I had this idea a long time ago and I’m not finding motivation to write it but the inspiration comes and go. I smile with every comment that is left on my fics and I’m so grateful for this community. Thank you for letting me pursue my creative writing without judgement. Love you guys! (Also, yes. If you didn’t see my last note, I based YN’s family off of the Gilmore Girls characters. That’s who I picture as them.)

Word Count: 8k

Masterlist Prologue

You wake up to someone falling on your bed next to you with a dramatic sigh. Knowing exactly who it is, you choose to ignore her and try getting back to the dreamless sleep you were peacefully having before you woke up.

That is, until she sighs again.

You flip onto your back and stare up at your ceiling fan that’s quickly spinning above you. “What, Rory?”

“How did it go with Andre and that boy?”

You look at her with one brow raised. “You woke me up to hear about Andre’s love life? That hardly sounds like you. You don’t care about high school drama or hookups.”

“You’re right,” Rory says. “But I thought I would ease you into what I actually need to tell you.”

You turn on right side and look at your sister confused. “What?”

She sighs. “The cafe’s basement flooded last night. Mom needs us there to help her clean up and take inventory on what’s salvageable.”

You turn back on you backside and close your eyes, exhaling a deep sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately not,” Rory says and pats you twice on your covered thigh as she sits up. “Come on. I made you pre-cafe coffee. It’s sitting in the kitchen.”

You throw your sheets off of you and trudge to the bathroom to brush your teeth and clean your face. It’s about 8 a.m. At least you were able to get about six hours of sleep.

Last night, it was hard to let your brain rest to fall asleep. You kept tossing and turning, thinking about the blonde Pogue who walked you home. You missed how easy it was to talk to someone who you felt truly knew you. Your banter rolled off your tongue easily and you never had to worry about offending him because you knew him like the back of your hand. You knew what he could take and what he couldn't.

Talking to him brought back childhood memories you had hidden deep in your mind. How JJ would constantly poke you until you ripped into a smile on days that were grey. How you used to steal John B’s bandanas until he was chasing you around his house to get them back. How you would draw a mustache and a unibrow on Pope’s face when he fell asleep by the water.

Those days felt like they were decades ago. So far away, you didn’t know if you’d be able to reach for them again. If it was even possible to get back.

You thought about texting him. Thanks for walking me back. We should all get together soon! You had written out. But then you deleted the whole message, telling yourself it was because you didn’t know if he even had the same number. But deep down, you were just afraid of the rejection.

Its been about three years since the four of you had been together in one place. You don’t know what they’ve been through or if they’ve changed. They for sure as hell don’t know what you’ve been through. You don’t know if they're dynamic has changed. Clearly you and JJ can still joke with each other but what about John B and Pope? You heard about John B’s father disappearing at sea, most people believing he’s dead, but John B holding onto hope that’s he’s alive. You always thought about calling him to reach out and offer your condolences. But for the same reason you didn’t text JJ, you never called. It didn’t feel like your place. They had Kie for that now. A little part of you felt jealous of her, like she had replaced you and any memory of you. She seemed nice, but she wasn’t you.

“Ready?” Rory pops her head in to your room as you slip on a cropped plain white zip up jacket over your cropped black tank.

“As I’ll ever be,” You say and snag the car keys out of her hands. “Don’t even think about it. I’m driving.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “I want to get there safely.”

“And I want to get there quickly.”

“Fine. But we’re taking my car. It actually has doors.”

For your sixteenth birthday, your grandparents gifted both you and Rory your own individual cars and even let you pick them out. Rory chose a black 2020 Honda Civic for it’s safety features and reputation for longevity as if she was planning on handing it down to her future kids. And you picked out a white 2020 Jeep Wrangler with a hard top that pops off along with the doors for a very open and thrilling ride. Everyone but you called it a death trap, but you found it to be the perfect summer car.

You park Rory’s boring Honda Civic in the back of the cafe in a lot used specifically for employees. The cafe is already booming with teens and families, waiting for their morning coffees and fresh pastries. Kids your age are running around behind the counter with sweat dripping down their brow bone to get everyone’s orders out in a timely manner.

In the back of the store, your mom walks up the steps from the basement with two large trash bags and immediately notices the two of you. “Oh good. You’re here. Rory, help the girls behind the counter. The dishwasher’s broken and poor Hailey is hand washing everything. Y/N, come with me downstairs.”

“Why does Rory get the fun job?” You grumble and follow your mom back downstairs after she tosses the two trash bags.

“Because she’s actually nice to the customers.”

“Treat others how you would like to be treated. Isn’t that what everyone always says?” You smirk. You never agreed with the phrase ‘the customer is always right.’ It’s complete bullshit and being the employee shouldn’t mean letting yourself getting verbally abused by a ‘Karen’ on the other side of the counter.

The basement is used for the cafe’s storage, lined with wooden shelves Steve put together that hold to go cups, back up espresso machines, boxes of coffee and food and ingredients, etc. Now all the boxes are dark and sopping, creating puddles on the concrete floor.

“Oh my god. Mom. How did this happen?”

“Jenky water pipe busted in the middle of the night,” Steve walks down the stairs and passes your mom a knowing look. It didn’t surprise you that he was here. He’s the jack of all trades. Owns his own automotive shop, builds a lot of his own furniture, actually cooks a decent meal, and has the same outlook on customer service as you do. He was probably your mom’s first call. “Talked to the plumber. They can’t get here until at least noon.”

“Noon? We’ll be underwater by noon. I might as well turn all my employees into a swim team,” Your mom says.

Steve shakes his head. “I was able to hold the leak until he gets here. You should be fine.”

Steve was the first person that actually helped your mother out when's she moved to the Cut. Six months pregnant, she pushed her car into his automotive shop after it broke down on the side of the road. Their banter was similar to the one you and JJ have. He helped save your mom money by building yours and Rory’s cribs, changing table, and dressers. And ever since, the two of them had been connected by the hip, although they both refuse to admit it. You think the pair are just trying to deny the love they clearly share for each other. And you think the main reason for that is because of the incident four years ago with your mom’s ex boyfriend. No thanks to you.

“Look at you constantly building your resume,” You smirk at him.

Steve scoffs. “It’s more than what you’re doing.”

You roll your eyes. Steve is the closest thing you have to a father. He practically helped raise you with your mom. He’s the one you turn to whenever a fight with your mom goes too far, which isn't too often but it happens. He usually lets you stay at his house for the night to let you cool off. But he’ll never sugar coat his advice when it comes time for him to give it. Even if you don’t ask for it. He knows growing up with Rory has been challenging. She was clearly your mom’s favorite, or at least that’s what you thought. She has a 4.0 GPA with a realistic dream to get into Brown University and study journalism. She played by every rule, never got into trouble, and spent most of her free nights getting ahead of her school work or staying late at the cafe with an open book from the library across the street. She was an absolute angel to everyone else, making you look like her evil twin.

You glare at him before turning to your mom with crossed arms. “What do you want me to do, Mom?”

“Actually honey. Can you go to Heywards and grab more coffee filters and napkins. The water soaked right through the plastic wrapping on our last box.”

You nod, leaving your mom and Steve to clean up the basement themselves. Before heading out, you sneak behind the counter and make yourself a quick coffee to go.

“Where you going?” Rory asks as she reaches behind you to grab a banana for her customer at the register.

“Heywards to grab a couple things for Mom.”

“Oh. Make sure to grab toilet paper while you’re out. I think we’re almost out of it.”

“Got it.”

Heywards is only a short drive from your mom’s cafe. It’s the closest convenient store that isn’t crazy pricey. It’s where your mom gets all her supplies whenever she runs out of things before shipment gets there.

You use to always come here when you were younger with the boys, each of you, even Pope, stealing a small bag of chips or a candy bar here and there. Little did any of you know, Mr. Heyward caught your thieving hands every time but never said anything.

The bell above the door chimes when you walk into the store. You know this place as well as you know the cafe, finding the toilet paper and coffee filter immediately.

When Mr. Heyward looks up from the counter, his smile grows. He can pick you out of a crowd anywhere, but he hasn’t seen you in a long time. Last time he saw you, you had braces and overgrown bushy brows. Now you had bushed hair and shaved legs.

“Hi. Mr. Heyward,” You grin shyly at him. You don’t know how he’s going to react to see you, unsure of what Pope might have told him about you.

“Little Miss Y/L/N? Is that you?” Heyward smiles widely, pulling your own lips into a wider smile. “I haven’t seen you for a long time.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy with school and my mom’s cafe...” Both of those things were a lie. You just avoid the Cut to avoid the Pogues.

“How’s the fam?”

“They’re good,” You say as Heyward hands you your bags. “Mom says hello by the way. I’m actually taking these to her store now.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger. We miss your smiling face around her. Anette, too.” Heyward says, mentioning his wife.

“Tell her I said hi.”

“Of course, darling.”

Heyward and Anette always had a special place in their heart for you and Rory. They’re not one for gossip, but they knew a little bit about what your mom’s been through and have heard plenty of stories about your grandparents. They always thought, despite your mom’s background, that you and your sister were raised impressively. Anette always hoped that one day Pope and Rory would get together. Everyone always wanted their child to be with Rory.

As your about to leave the store, the bell chimes again with another customer. Only it’s not another customer. It’s Pope and John B. They don’t see you at first, and you wonder if maybe you can sneak out without them seeing you. But something about that felt wrong. Especially because Heyward would more than likely mention to them that you were here.

Pope sees you first and stops in his tracks. “Y/N?”

“Hey, guys. Long time no see,” You smile at both of them. You bite down on your lip awkwardly when you meet John B’s stare. You don’t know if you should mention anything about his dad’s disappearance. But what would you say? Sorry? What good would that do?

“How’ve you been?” Pope gives you a small side hug, then John B.

You shrug. “You know, living the dream.”

“How’s life as a Hybrid?” John B smirks.

You roll your eyes playfully and groan. “Oh god. Never call me that again.”

You may be considered a Hybrid by everyone else, but you would never put yourself into that category. You grew up a Pogue, the same way everyone else did around you. The only thing tying you to the Kooks are your grandparents.

“Why?” John B smirks. “I wish I was a Hybrid.”

You smirk back. “Maybe you will be one day. I hear you have a Kook of your own for arm candy.”

You saw a faint hint of blush on John B’s cheek at the mention of his girlfriend but you don’t mention it. “Sarah, yeah. She’s not like the other Kooks.”

“I would hope not. Her brother’s a dick.”

“Yeah,” They laugh.

“We miss you, you know.” John B says. Pope looks at you, trying to read your expression. John B’s not wrong. They do all miss you, especially Pope. He felt like you were the only one who really understood him. Of course his other friends are great, but you actually took the time to try and understand his passions. Like forensic science.

“I miss you guys too. It’s been a while.”

“Well, hey. We’re actually all getting together tonight at my place. Nothing big. Just a bonfire and a couple beers. You should stop by,” John B says.

“Yeah,” Pope says, immediately getting hopeful that you’ll show up.

Your smile falters. The invite makes your heart swell and your lungs contract. It’s an invite you’ve been wanting for three years. And now that you have it, you don’t know what to say. It’d be different if it was just the four of you like old times. But now there’s Kie and Sarah and although you have nothing against them, you’re afraid they won’t accept you. The thought of your boys picking them over you terrifies you.

“Okay. Yeah, sure. I’ll try to swing by later.”

Pope smiles wide and looks at his friend to see his reaction. John B grins and nods, almost impressed that you had agreed. But he saw the twitch in your lips when the question was asked.

“Great. I guess we’ll see you later then.”

You nod. “Okay. Bye guys.”

You suck in a deep breath when the fresh air outside of Heyward’s store brushes over you. Your heart thumps wildly with both excitement and nerves when you’re finally able to collect your thoughts. You don’t know what you’ll do tonight, but the possibilities can change your entire summer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You spent the rest of the day mopping up the cafe’s basement and rearranging the shelves. You smelled of sweat and coffee grounds by the time you were done and dreamt of the shower you would be taking when you got home.

Rory drove you home after the two of you closed up the cafe for the day. Neither of you said much. Rory was exhausted from running around behind the counter and you were too busy thinking about whether you’d go back to the place you used to call your second home.

You took a longer shower than usual, still pondering what your night would be like. Your head was telling you to stay home but your heart pulled you in the direction of the Cut. You yearned to hear about what the future held for Pope, and listen to John B retell stories of when you were kids, and be able to stare into JJ’s bright blue eyes without him noticing.

You changed into a pair of jean shorts and a plain red cropped tank. Rory walks into your room as your brushing out your hair and looks at you as if you lost your mind.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t wear that,” She says.

You brows scrunch together in confusion. “What are you talking about? I wear shit like this all the time.”

“Not to the Country Club, you don’t.” That’s when it hits you. Today’s been so hectic, you forgot what day it was. “It’s Sunday.”

Sunday dinner at the Country Club is now a weekly commitment forced upon you by your grandparents. Each week, your mom, sister, and you are forced to spend one dinner with your grandma and grandpa. This is basically your mom’s payment back for sending you and Rory to Kook Academy. Only they actually pay for the dinner. It’s usually the longest two hours of your entire week. It’s hard to listen to your grandfather rant about Real Estate and your grandma slyly critique your mother in almost every aspect of her life.

“Shit. I completely forgot,” You say.

“Well, you better change. We’re leaving in about five minutes,” Rory says then plucks a gold necklace from your dresser. “Oh and can I wear this tonight?”

You sigh. “Sure.”

You change into a baby blue wrap around dress and pin your wet hair into a half up half down due. It’s gonna have to work for the limited time you have to get ready. After applying a thin layer of makeup to look the least bit presentable, you meet your mom and sister by the front door.

“Finally,” Your mom says when she sees you.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize it was Sunday.”

“It’s okay, honey. I just don’t think I can handle another late remark from Mom today.” She looks you up and down and grins. “You look great.”

Despite the many fiery fights you and your mom can have, she is also your best friend. It’s kind of like a love hate relationship. Steve says it’s because you’re exactly like your mom - almost like a sixteen year old version of her.

You really hope that isn’t true. You’re not ready to have a kid in two years.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your grandparents are already sitting at a round table in the corner of the country club by the two tall windows that reach up to the ceiling with a view looking out into the golf course. The best seat in the house for the richest a holes on the island.

“Lorelai,” Your grandmother grins, but you can instantly tell it’s sarcastic. “Did you have to walk here?”

You speak up before your mom could. “Sorry Grandma. It’s my fault we’re late.”

Your grandparents are hard on your mom but easier on you and Rory, especially Rory.

“Well, you’re here now,” Your grandpa says. He’s usually the mediator between your mom and grandma. Although he’s usually sucks at it. “Sit. Sit.”

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, JJ shuffles through his many coworkers with his apron in one hand and a piece of fried calamari from Miss Carol’s appetizer in the other.

“JJ -” She scolds and slaps his hand away from going in for a second piece.

“Good evening Miss Carol,” JJ smirks and makes his way to the area between the kitchen and dining room where most of the servers and bust boys hang out. Some of the boys slap him on the back or shove him by the shoulder, chuckling to themselves. “What’s going on boys? Busy crowd?”

“What are you doing here? You never work Sundays,” His friend, Mitch, says.

Luke Maybank was behind on several bills - worse than it’s ever been. They already shut off their electricity and JJ wanted to make sure the water wouldn’t be next.

But JJ shrugs nonchalantly. “Little extra dough can't hurt.”

“Well, you picked a good day,” Raymond walks up to the blonde, rolling his sleeves. “You got Kook Royalty and their Hybrid offsprings in your section.”

“What?” JJ looks through the small square Plexiglas on the swinging door. He knows exactly where to look and immediately sees you sitting with King and Queen Kook, looking absolutely miserable, pushing around your food with your fork.

“Damn, Maybank. Almost broke your neck - you turned so fast.”

“Shut up, Easterling. I was just seeing how crowded we were,” JJ lied. He really just wanted to see if you were here. And now that he sees you are, he’s a little nervous to do his own damn job.

Raymond Easterling chuckles. “Yeah, I know what you were looking at. But don’t get your hopes up. There’s a reason Kooks call that girl the Heart Sucker. Not even the high and powerful JJ Maybank could get a piece of that.”

The guys around JJ and Raymond chuckle and nod in agreement, hearing the stories of how you’d reject every single guy that’s ever asked you out. Sometimes you’d go on a few dates, trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone, but then things would quickly become too much, and you’d get overwhelmed.

JJ didn’t like the way Raymond talked about you or how the others laughed at your expense. His hands clenched into fists, tempted to throw a punch in Ray’s cocky face. The guy’s just being a jerk because he’s one of the guys that got rejected by you, he thought.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” JJ shakes his head and ties his apron around his waist to distract his hands.

“No?” Raymond challenges him. “You think I’m wrong? You think you could pull the infamous Hybrid over there?”

JJ glances back through the window. You’re looking at your grandma with a clearly forced grin. You’re twirling your hair between your fingers, a habit you picked up when you were little to do when you’re bored. JJ would find you doing that in school all the time.

You’re gorgeous, he thought. It’s no wonder that almost every guy on this island has tried to make a pass on you, including JJ himself, but his remarks always come off as playful, afraid of actually telling you how he feels about you. His fantasies about you went further than just getting you between the sheets. He could picture getting married, having children, and growing old together. Years ago, the two of you would talk about your future. Neither one of you cared about money or fancy jobs. All you wanted was to be free - of this island, of each other’s families, of responsibilities placed on you from birth. You hold the same values as JJ, and he’s never met another person like you.

But JJ has a hard exterior. No one other than his best friends know his true heart, and he wasn’t going to let someone like Raymond Easterling find out about his soft spot for you. He would never hear the end of it.

JJ looks at you one last time. You’re talking to Rory, your face in his direction. This time you’re smiling, probably discussing something other than your grandparent’s expectations of you. He’d kill to see that smile every single day.

What’s the worst that could happen? You reject him? Yeah, that might kill JJ inside, but maybe you’d still be his friend, or continue to be acquaintances like you are now. As long as he gets to see you, he’d be okay. There was always the future. But who knows? Maybe you’d say yes? He’ll never know unless he tries. Right?

JJ fakes the same cocky grin that Raymond wears. “I haven’t failed yet.”

The guys around him whistle and shake their heads with smiles.

“All right, Maybank. Let’s make a bet. I’ll give you one hundred dollars to get Y/N Y/L/N in the sack by the fourth of July.”

JJ scoffs. “You like giving away free money?” He ignored his racing heart at the thought of being that intimate with you.

Raymond nods. “Okay. Let’s put your money where your mouth is. Get her to say ‘I love you’ by the end of the season and I’ll raise you an extra hundred and cover all your dishwasher shifts in September.”

JJ raises his brows with surprise. No one offers to take the dishwashing shift. Sometimes the boys are pulled back there when the kitchen is short staffed and it’s easily one of the worst jobs at the Club.

This bet was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up. “Deal.” JJ says.

The boys shake hands on it and the other guys whisper to each other about how intrigued they are to see this play out.

JJ wipes his sweaty palms against his apron and pushes the door open to approach your table, hoping he can hear you over his thudding heart.

“Good evening folks. May I take those empty plates out of your way?”

You look up at the voice you know so well and a smile raises on your lips. JJ meets your eyes and he winks at you, splattering your heart in flutters.

“Please.” Your grandmother pushes her plate away from her, stuffed with filet and red wine.

“JJ,” Your mom grins up at him. Growing up, your mom always had a soft spot for the blonde Pogue. She’s heard the stories about his father, mostly from Steve, who actually grew up with Luke Maybank, his cousin. As a child, he was sent to live with Luke Maybank and his single father. Lets just say, he’s not surprised by the way Luke turned out. “Look at you. You’re all grown up now. Last time I saw you, Y/N was still pushing your head in the sand for stealing her popsicle.”

“Yeah. I quickly learned no one should mess with Y/N and her food,” JJ says.

“Never stopped you though,” You smirk at him.

“Lorelai. Who is this?” Your grandma asks, disregarding the boy himself.

“Mom,” Lorelai gives her mom a warning look. “This is JJ Maybank. He went to school with Y/N and Rory.” Lorelai knew to play it safe with her wording. She didn’t know where you and JJ stood. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him and she knew better than to ask.

“Nice to meet you,” JJ says politely. “I’d shake your hand but mine are kinda full.” He motions to the plates in his hand.

“That’s quite all right.” Your grandma’s smile is so forced, it makes you uncomfortable.

“I won’t hold you up. Has your server been around with the dessert menu?” JJ looks at you. “We have chocolate cake tonight.”

Heat rushes up your neck. Not because of the cake itself but because JJ remembered your favorite dessert. Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles. It was safe to save you were a choco-holic. The boys use to make it for you every year for your birthday. It usually came out burnt, none of them ever remembering how to properly make it. But it was all you needed to feel like a very special girl.

“Your favorite,” Rory elbows you.

Your grandma cringes. “Sounds like diabetes on a plate.”

“Mom,” Lorelai scolds.

“What?” She asks, not understanding the concept of a filter.

Now heat rushes to your cheeks for an entire different reason. “He did. We’re not doing dessert tonight. Thank you, though.”

JJ nods but feels disappointed by the way your face flinched at your grandmother’s comment.

“My pleasure,” He says like he was taught to do and excuses himself to drop the plates off in the back before he can say anything else that would probably get him fired.

Your mom looks at your with raised brows. “He’s cute, honey.”

“Lorelai, please. He’s the busboy,” Your grandma says.

“He’s a good kid, Mom.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” You stand up. “I have to use the restroom.”

Rory gives you a knowing grin as you walk away from the table. When you walk into the hallway between the dining area and the front lobby, you immediately feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Sometimes just the presence of your grandparents and their pompous judgements can be suffocating. You do your best to bite your tongue around them, excusing yourself when you feel yourself getting heated.

JJ catches a glimpse of your light blue dress out of the corner of his eye when he rounds the corner to collect the plates off a different table. He looks over his shoulder at Raymond, who’s staring at the blonde watching you, and winks.

“Hey, Y/N,” JJ says, walking up to you.

You look up from your phone and immediately smile. “Hey. I was actually hoping I’d catch you out here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nervously tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry about my grandmother. She can be...”

JJ shakes his head. “Hey. It’s okay. I work for Kooks almost every single day. I’m use to it.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control,” JJ says. “Besides, that’s probably the nicest she’s ever been to me.”

You hide your face in your hands. “Stop. You’re making it worse.”

JJ laughs and takes your wrists in his hands, slowly pulling them away from your face. Your eyes shoot up to his, immediately feeling a tingling feeling run through your skin, straight to your heart.

“It’s okay. I promise,” He says softly. His voice is so sincere that you have no other option but to believe him. It almost makes your feel guiltier, wondering how much bullshit he’s been through with ungrateful Kooks that it’s so easy for him to forgive and forget.

“Okay,” Your voice is a whisper, taken off guard by how close he is to you and how he still hasn't let go of your hands.

In that same moment, JJ realizes he’s still holding you and gently removes his hands. He coughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his neck, where sweat begins to bubble. Why is he so nervous?

“So um...” You say, suddenly feeling nervous too. “You going to John B’s tonight?”

JJ’s eyes shoot up in surprise. How did you know that? “Yeah. I’m heading over there after work.”

“I saw him and Pope at Heywards earlier today and they invited me over. I wasn’t sure if I should come or not.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Because it’s different now, you wanted to say. But you didn’t because you feel like the elephant in the room would only grow. And you didn’t want to admit you were nervous to meet Kie and Sarah outside of school.

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“You should definitely come. The boys miss you.”

You pretend like a little piece of your heart didn’t just break when JJ didn’t say ‘we.’

“What time do you get off of work?”

“Around 9ish.”

You nod. “I can pick you up if you’d like and we could go together?”

Your heart races after you suggest it. What if he says no? Why were you feeling this way? This is the same kid you use to make fun of for pouring milk into his bowl before his cereal.

“Yeah. That’d be perfect.”

“Great!” Your phone pings with a text from Rory, telling you that your grandparents are wondering where you are. “Shit. I have to get back. I’ll see you at nine?”

“See you then,” JJ nods and turns back to the kitchen. When his eyes meet Raymond’s, he’s reminded of what he agreed to. Almost surprised how quickly he forgot about it. You were able to take his mind off of anything without even trying. He clears his throat to get rid of the giddy grin he was wearing after talking to you, wanting to look tough and casual in front of his coworker. “Easy.” He says to him. But that felt anything but easy. He could vomit with nerves.

“There’s still plenty of time for you to screw up, Maybank.”

JJ huffs. He’s not wrong.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You drive up to the front of the country club and park in front of the main entrance. It’s 8:57. You’re early and will look eager. So you wait until 9:06 to text him that you’re here.

You changed into a pair of dark washed denim shorts, a yellow cropped tube top, a grey flannel, and navy converse. You changed your outfit about four times before deciding on your first one, not wanting to look too casual or too dressed up.

For the last three years, you wondered when the four of you would get back together as a group. You wondered if it would ever happen. And now that two Kooks are involved, you feel more nervous than excited.

You jump when the passenger seat door opens, lost in the depth of your own head. JJ smiles, not seeing your reaction.”Cool ride,” he says and looks around the interior.

“Thanks,” you say, pulling out into the road.

“I got you something,” JJ says.

You glance at him with furrowed brows. What could he have possibly gotten you since you saw him last? A book mark from the Country Club’s gift shop?

JJ reaches into his backpack and pulls out a plate with clear wrap around it. Your mouth drops when you see the chocolate cake on a plate in his hands, the smell immediately hitting your nose with pure delight.

“You saved me a piece?” You jump in your seat excitedly.

“Had to hide it good too or else Miss Carol would have had my ass handed to me,” JJ jokes and even pulls out two forks. He undoes the wrapping and cuts off a piece. He waits until you hit a stop sign and says, “Open up.”

You look at him and immediately open your mouth. He gently places the fork between your lips and you take the piece of cake off with your teeth. Like a baby.

Your eyes close with pure pleasure. “Oh my god. That’s amazing.”

“Miss Carol does know how to bake a mean cake,” JJ says and takes a bite of his own.

“Another one,” You say, glancing at the cake again. Like you said, choco-holic. “Please.” You say when JJ teases you by holding the fork away from you.

JJ laughs. “I like hearing you beg.”

You slap him in the arm with the back of your hand. “In your dreams, Maybank.”

“You got that right, Y/L/N.”

The two of you finish the cake with only a few bites each. Small but rich in chocolate that leaves you craving more. You were gonna have to meet this Miss Carol woman.

After he puts the plate back in his bag, JJ reaches for the aux cord, but you quickly slap his hand away. “Hey. What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re seriously gonna make me listen to this the entire way to John B’s?”

You scoff. “I’ll have you know Blink-182 is one of my favorite bands.”

“It’s also soccer moms’ favorite band,” JJ laughs at you.

You turn up the volume, blasting ‘All the Small Things’ and point to your ear. “Sorry. Can’t hear you!”

JJ rolls his eyes but laughs along with you, even bopping his head to the beat. You drive with the windows down, dancing and singing along to a bunch of throwback songs with JJ as if the two of you have been doing this forever.

You pull up to John B’s and park behind his dad’s old van, better known as The Twinkie. When you turn down the music, JJ looks at you with a shake in his head. “Next time, I’m driving.”

“What was wrong with my driving?”

“We’re in the Outer Banks, Sparky, not NASCAR.”

You scoff and follow behind JJ who’s leading the way up John B’s driveway. As you get closer, you smell the smoky scent of a bonfire nearby and eventually hear John B’s laugh mixed in with a female’s. Your smile falters as nerves gather in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks.

“Nothing,” You say, but JJ easily catches your lie and gives you a knowing look. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Who? Pope and John B? I’m pretty sure they like you more than me even after three years -”

“Not them, you idiot,” You shove him playfully by the shoulder as you two let yourselves inside. “Sarah and Kie.”

“Don’t you go to school with them?”

“Yeah, but we don’t talk,” You say quietly, not wanting them to hear you.

“Hm.”

“What?” JJ shrugs. “Nothing. I just didn’t think you cared about what other people thought.”

“I don’t,” You say quickly. “But they're your best friends. It’s different.”

“You don’t need their approval. You technically were here first.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been replaced,” You try to say it as a joke and even throw a smirk in there.

But JJ stops in his track and looks at you seriously. “No one can replace you. Not even if they tried.”

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re at a loss for words. It’s not a common occurrence that JJ gets all serious on you. Warmth covers you like a blanket and the longer he holds your stare, the weaker your knees become.

“JJ! Is that you?” John B calls out from the backyard.

“Yeah,” JJ yells back. He opens the fridge in John B’s kitchen. “Want a beer?” He offers to you.

You shake your head. “No thanks.”

For the first time, you take in John B’s home. It looks the same as it did three years ago, only a lot messier. The pull out couch looks like its been used recently with blankets and sheets tossed about on it. Empty beer cans and cigarette butts are thrown messily on the coffee tables and the air smells faintly of old marijuana.

JJ leads you out to the back where four people are gathered around a fire. Three out of the four immediately smile when the two of you approach them, but Kie’s eyes narrow and her head tilts with confusion.

Shit, you think.

“You came!” Pope laughs and hops up from his beach chair and embraces you in a hug.

You laugh, not expecting the embrace, but welcoming it all the same. John B’s next, giving you a quick hug and shaking his head.

“I gotta say, I didn’t think you were going to come,” John B says.

“You can thank me for that later,” JJ says jokingly.

“Actually when I heard JJ was coming, I almost changed my mind and stayed home,” You joke and smirk JJ’s way.

“Just like old times,” Pope says, looking between you and the blonde. The banter felt like the yall never separated in the first place.

“Hey, you know Sarah and Kie, right?” John B points to the girls. Sarah stands up to say hi, and eventually Kie follows her, not wanting to look rude, but stays off to the side, keeping her distance.

“Yeah,” You wave awkwardly.

“Hey!” Sarah says sweetly. “I didn’t realize you guys use to all hang out.”

“Y/N grew up down the street,” JJ explains and sips at his beer.

“You want a drink or something?” Pope asks you, not knowing JJ already did.

“No thank you,” You say again.

“You don’t drink?” Kie asks. It was the first thing she’s said to you.

“Not usually,” You say and hold her stare. You try to get a read on her, but she’s had to get a tell on. You can’t tell if she just doesn’t like you or just doesn’t know you. Either way, it makes you uneasy.

“Here, I’ll go grab you a chair,” Pope says and walks to the side of the house to grab another beat up beach chair.

As the night goes on, you feel the tension in your shoulders loosen and your body feel lighter. Most of the night was spent retelling childhood stories the four of you shared. Sarah would laugh at most of them, occasionally rolling her eyes at her boyfriend from the stupid shit he would do, although it sounds like he’s no different to you now.

You talked about the time you and JJ stole a golf cart for a joy ride on Figure Eight, or when you and John B pranked Pope by putting a dead fish in his locker, or how you and John B learned how to play guitar from youtube tutorials.

Midnight came around quickly and exhaustion was slowly taking over your body. It’s been a long day between the cafe flooding, dinner with your grandparents, and now this.

JJ was the first to notice you slowly fading.

“You okay?” He asks you quietly as everyone else is caught up in conversation.

“Yeah,” You say, lazily grinning at him.

“We can leave if you want,” He says.

“You’re not staying?” You ask. It sounded like everyone was planning to spend the night here. And as much as you wanted to, you just didn’t feel comfortable enough yet.

JJ shrugs. “My dad’s out of town tonight. It’ll be nice to have the house to myself.” Before you can say anything, he stands and brushes his hands against his pants. “All right, losers. We’re out of here.”

“Aw, you’re leaving?” Sarah pouts.

“Yeah, I’m beat and Y/N’s my ride home,” JJ says.

You were glad he didn’t call you out for being tired. You didn’t want to look lame in front of everybody, especially Kie.

“Thanks for having me,” You say to everyone. It might have been John B’s house, but it was everyone’s night you intruded on.

John B stands up to hug you. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

You nod. “I won’t. I promise.”

Pope hugs you next. “Text me when you get back safe.”

“I will.”

“Bye!” Sarah waves and Kie exhales a ring of smoke from her blunt.

You wave at them before following JJ back to your car.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” JJ says. You didn’t realize you both walked to the driver’s side.

“What? No.”

JJ nods and holds his hands out for your keys. “I’m not dying tonight.”

“You’ve been drinking and smoking all night,” You say. You didn’t think JJ was drunk or even that high, but you were not going to let a teenager with an ounce of alcohol in his system get behind the wheel. “Next time. For now, hold on to the cupholder.”

JJ sighs dramatically and goes to the other side of the car and hops in the passenger seat.

This time you keep the music quiet, listening to the hum of the radio instead of your phone.

“Take a left,” JJ says.

“JJ, I know where you live. And it’s not left.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

You snicker. “Not in the slightest.”

JJ rolls his eyes. “Just take the left.”

You hold your hands up in surrender and take the left turn. He directs you for a couple more miles until he has you park in front of a 24 hour diner.

“What are we doing here?” You ask.

“I’m in the mood for a milkshake.”

“We just had cake!” You say.

“Come on, Sparky. Show me what that mouth can do,” JJ smirks.

You go to hit him again but he takes off running to the front entrance and pulls the door open. You chase after him, almost running into his back at the front host stand where JJ safely smirks at you in triumph.

“Two please,” He says to the hostess.

The old cranky woman leads you to a booth off to the side next to a window without a word.

A couple minutes later, a waitress walks by and asks if you’re ready to order.

“Yes. One chocolate milkshake and one black and white milkshake,” JJ orders for both of you, already knowing what flavor you’d want.

“And fries, please.” You say. The waitress nods, takes your menus, and walks off. JJ raises his brow at the extra order. “What?” You shrug. “Just showing you what my mouth can do.”

JJ scoffs. “What a tease.”

You playfully kick his shin under the table.

“Did you have fun tonight?” JJ asks.

“Yeah,” You answer. “Felt like old times. The girls are nice too.”

You were about to only mention Sarah, but you didn’t want to cause any issues with Kie. Not yet at least. Maybe she just needed time to warm up to you.

“See? I told you they wouldn’t bite.”

A couple minutes later, the waitress comes back with your milkshakes and fries.

“How’s John B doing? You know, with the whole Big John thing?” You ask delicately, unsure of how JJ would react to you pestering about John B’s business. “I didn’t want to ask and bring the mood down,” You explain yourself although you don’t need to.

JJ shrugs. “He’s in denial I think. Won’t sign a death certificate until he sees a body. He could be worse, though.”

“Yeah,” You say softly. You don’t know what you would do if you were in that situation. In a way you felt lucky that you never knew your dad at all. It would be harder to lose him, knowing who he was.

You take a fry and dip it into your milkshake before taking a bite. This makes JJ freeze and look at you like you have two heads.

“What?” You say with your mouth full.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” You say and give him a look to do it.

JJ reluctantly picks up the fry and dunks it into his milkshake. He looks at the fry questioningly before popping it into his mouth. Somehow the sweetness of the milkshake and the saltiness of the french fry complement each other beautifully and his widen in pleasant surprise.

“Oh wow,” JJ says.

“Told you,” You smirk.

You spend the next hour catching up, trying to fit the last three years into an hour. JJ does most of the talking because you want to know more about what John B, Pope, and JJ have been up to. Your life was so boring and depressing, you didn’t want to bore JJ with the details.

You drive JJ home and talk for a few minutes more when you park. He seems to be procrastinating getting out of the car, but you don’t mind. You could talk to him all night, suddenly not feeling tired anymore.

“All right. I’ll let you get home before the sun rises,” He says and opens the door. He pauses when his feet hit the ground and he looks back at you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I have to work at the shop, why?”

“Well, there’s a storm coming in. John B and I might go out to surf the surge before it hits. You still surf?”

You scoff. “Do I still surf?”

JJ holds his hands up in surrender. “Just checking. You think you can handle the surge?”

“Let’s not forget who the better surfer is, JJ.”

“I didn’t. It’s still me.”

“You wish.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Now you have a point to prove. You have to show JJ that you’re still the better surfer.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” You agree.

“Great, it’s a date.” He winks and shuts the door before you can tell him otherwise.

You giggle to yourself as JJ walks up the front yard and stay there until he you see he gets in safely.

You pull out of the driveway, wishing he had asked you out on a real date. One that didn’t involve John B.

Tag list: @super-funky-bisexual @sunsetswithjj @moniamaybank @throwawayfish @poguestyle17 @5am-cigarette @jjpouggues @fly-away-from-here @buckys2thicc

#JJ Imagine #jj fic #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj obx #jj fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks imagines #outer banks fic #jj maybank one shot

244 notes · View notes

sunshineseung · 3 years

Text

Journal Finale

🍄 | genre: smut ☁️ | pairing: Yang Jeongin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 4.9k 🌸 | includes: milf!reader x babysitter!college student!jeongin, milf!reader x dilf!changbin, threesome, blowjob (giving), unprotected PIV (missionary position), breeding/impregnation/pregnancy [end of threesome], protected anal (receiving), more unannounced voyeurism, arguing :(, kissing/making out, nipple play (giving), blowjob (giving) the squeakuel, cum swallowing, slight pussyjob, unprotected PIV (cowgirl position), use of handcuffs, creampie, your usual praise and mild degradation here and there, and the ending :) enjoy~

🌊 | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Finale |

“Jeongin, get over here.” Changbin readied himself at your entrance while Jeongin stumbled over to Changbin. “You’re gonna fuck her pretty face while I take this pussy, got it?”

“Yes, sir!” Jeongin jumped at the command and walked to the top of the bed, running the head of his cock between your lips before you smiled and took him into your mouth. His dick hit the back of your throat as Changbin filled you up, his thick cock making you whine loudly onto Jeongin. “Ah~ mommy!”

“Such a good mouth, huh?” Changbin’s hips are relentlessly thrusting into your sopping cunt while Jeongin desperately bucks into your mouth. “Tight little cunt, too.”

As much as Jeongin wants to say “yeah, I know,” he holds back to keep the peace. Jeongin watching you get fucked while sucking his cock is going to make him cum so much faster than usual, he can already feel it. You just look so gorgeous with your tits bouncing on your chest as you get pounded by Changbin and the drool running down your face from Jeongin’s cock.

“I’m gonna fill this pussy up with my cum. Get you pregnant with my kids.” Changbin groans loudly as his cock rams into you, brushing perfectly against your g-spot. You swear you can see stars when he starts playing with your clit, egging you on even more. “Fuck, you wish this was you, don’t you, Jeongin?”

“Huh?” Jeongin peeks his head up, slowing his pace in your mouth so he can edge himself (and not look like a baby for cumming so soon).

“You wish you were knocking Y/n up, don’t you?” Changbin smiles, staring Jeongin dead in the eyes as he pounds your pussy like he owns it. “Y/n’s gonna be all mine soon enough. Once she has my kids, you’ll be out of the picture.”

“No! Please!” Jeongin’s cock slips out of your mouth, the younger going to push away your other lover. “You can’t take her!”

“You’re too late, Jeongin.” You and Changbin laugh as Jeongin looks down, your belly already bloated as if you’re pregnant. Suddenly, Jeongin feels miles away from the bed, Changbin fucking you from a distance across an indescribable void. He tries to run, but you just keep getting farther. He hears your voice: “Wake up, Jeongin! Wake up!”

🍓🍀🍯.

“Ah~ oh my god…”

“You like that, baby? Tell me you like it.”

“Y-yes Changbin, so good.”

Jeongin slowly opens his eyes, rubbing them before looking at his surroundings. He’s still in the closet… what? Jeongin looks out the crack in the closet door and as if he couldn’t already hear, Changbin’s pounding you from the back. The lighting of the room is hardly bright enough to see the action, but he certainly hears every skin slap, moan, and bed creak.

“Fuck, your ass is so tight,” Changbin groans hardly over a whisper, the deep growl in his tone making you shiver. His hands gripped your hips tight enough to control your movements, keeping your ass still while he rammed his fat cock into your tight ass, the lube making everything sound extra wet and lewd.

You dropped your hands to your sides and let your face fall into the bed, turning your head to the side so you could still breathe. The vision of Changbin’s dimly lit body with sweat dripping down his sculpted chest made your cunt throb, as if he hadn’t just been balls deep inside that hole minutes earlier, the used condom still on the floor next to your bed.

Without warning, you feel Changbin release inside of your ass, his cum being caught in the condom as his pelvis stops thrusting for his body to rest. He moans loudly, your name somewhere in the mix of expletives as he comes down from his second high of the night. You both feel worn out, bodies exhausted from two consecutive rounds of sex.

Being the gentleman he is, Changbin pulls out slowly and pulls off the condom, picking up the other one from the floor to throw them both into the trash can. As you go to the bathroom, Changbin sits on the edge of your bed and waits for you to return.

Jeongin’s sweating bullets in the closet. He feels so disgusting for peeping like this, although this was one of his secret fantasies not too long ago. He also can’t help but feel the slightest bit jealous… okay, maybe really jealous. He backs himself into the back of your closet and puts his head into his knees, curling into a ball not to cry but just to pretend he’s anywhere else.

“Hey, this was fun, but I should get going.” Changbin puts his wrinkled clothes back on as you get out your own pajamas. “I’d be down for a second date.”

“If you’re paying, I’m down for anything.” You both laugh as you take him out to the front door to say goodbye. After a short kiss, he goes out to his car and drives into the fog of the night. Satisfied, you hobble back to your bedroom, pleasantly unaware of the laughable mess going on at your destination.

Jeongin’s face down on your bedroom floor after tripping on the way out of the closet. You hear a loud thud, so you quick check on your daughters, but nothing’s out of the ordinary. Turning the corner into your bedroom, Jeongin’s on the other side of the door, a weak attempt to hide from you.

Of course, when you close the door, you immediately see Jeongin. You jump back and clutch your chest, beyond confused as to why Jeongin’s in your bedroom right now, half naked and shaking like a scared pup.

“Jeongin, what the fuck?!” He’s never heard you so loudly angry since you were on the phone with Minho. Every word gets caught in Jeongin’s throat as he tries to explain why he’s creeping in your bedroom. “I should call the police right now...”

“No! Wait!” Somehow, he’s out of breath without even saying anything. “I can explain.”

“Then go ahead, Jeongin. I’d love to hear your reasoning for snooping around in my room right after... wait, how long have you-“

“I wanted to surprise you, but you brought home someone else, so I just... hid in your closet while you, ya know, did that.” Your jaw hangs open because you’re just unable to believe what you just heard.

“I told you to leave, and yet you felt the need to stay, but not just stay, to hide in my closet and watch me have sex?” You’re tempted to go absolutely feral and beat the shit out of Jeongin, but being the classy lady you obviously are, you hold back. “Give me one good reason why I should let you off the hook for this.”

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just leave. Besides, I... I fell asleep.” Jeongin hangs his head, his hands tightened into fists at his sides.

“You fell asleep?” You’re shocked the little pervert managed to doze off while you were getting the life fucked out of you. “Was the sex really that boring to watch?”

“Nonono! It’s not that! I was just tired... I guess.” Jeongin looks out of your bedroom window and sees his own bedroom, his safety. God how he wishes he were there right now. “I’m sorry! Can we just pretend this didn’t happen?”

“Pre-... Yang Jeongin, this isn’t something we can just brush under the rug!” You pace back into your room, putting your hands to your head to alleviate the sudden stress. You were too focused on what you’re going to say next that you didn’t hear Jeongin’s ‘well we could try’ remark. “This is a breech of privacy!”

“And fucking another guy behind my back is a breech of trust!”

The self control it took you to not wack this boy upside the head was immeasurable. At this rate, you had as much patience as a silent monk.

“I thought I was your only man. How many other guys have you been fucking, huh?” Jeongin thought he had finally gotten you on his side, he really did. He thought he put the jealousy behind him, but now he was heated, but not as heated as you. Oh, not nearly as heated as you.

“I don’t have feelings for you, Jeongin.” You put your foot down. You just stared at the boy, crossing your arms to firmly stand your ground. “This partnership isn’t exclusive. I can fuck whoever I want. I thought I made that clear.”

Jeongin’s shattered. Destroyed. Ruined. Synonyms he can’t think of for right now. You said what he already knew, but he didn’t want to hear it come from your mouth. As explosive as this relationship was, he knew it would eventually blow, just not like this, and definitely not this soon.

“Get out of my house. I want to go to bed.” You turn around, unable to face Jeongin for your own sake. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

When the going gets tough, Yang Jeongin runs the other way. Whenever he stands up for himself, he’s punished for it. All he can do is run. He can’t keep running away.

Jeongin gets dressed in his clothes from earlier and leaves without a word, only a sullen look on his exhausted face. Walking into his own home, no one is there to greet him so late at night. Everyone in his family is asleep, or more likely jarred awake from the random slamming of doors from their lovely Jeongin.

Looking across the way to your bedroom window, the lights are off and the curtain is shut. You’ve likely gone to bed by now after this restful and simultaneously stressful day. Jeongin’s heart aches, but he’s glad you’re getting some rest. He knows how hard it can be recovering from anal.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

As usual, your babysitter arrives at 5pm sharp to watch your kids while you go to work. You wave him a sour goodbye before leaving him with your kids. For once, you’re actually worried if your kids are okay. You’ve always trusted Jeongin with your easygoing daughters, but you can’t trust him anymore. Not after that.

Upon getting home, you see your two daughters running around pretending to be knights and a tired Jeongin laying on your couch being the slain dragon of course. “Welcome home! Sorry, they wouldn’t go to bed.”

“Well, at least you tried.” You put your purse down before wrangling your kids and hustling them into bed, but not before promising to play castles with them in the morning for your day off. “G’night.”

“Goodnight, mommy!” No way was Yang Jeongin going to ruin that word for you.

“So, how was work?” As you walk back into the living room, Jeongin is acting as cool and proper as possible to keep your anger level at a low.

“Let’s talk.” Damnit, the one thing Jeongin wanted to avoid. “Why did you stay last night after I told you to go home?”

“I... I wanted to play.” His cutsie submissive voice is sweet, but very much unwelcomed right now. “I missed you!”

“Cut the shit, Jeongin. I know I should have told you about Changbin, but sneaking around my house is unacceptable.” There you go again, scolding him like a child. Even though he was totally in the wrong here, he couldn’t help but feel bitter from you treating him like a kid. Some things never change. “And you decided to just stay?”

“What the hell else was I supposed to do? You and your man were blocking all the exits!” As right as he is, you refuse to admit defeat so easily. “And I wanted to join in... a little.”

“If Changbin knew you were in that closet, he would have tossed you out of the window. Consider yourself lucky.” You sigh, tossing yourself onto the couch next to Jeongin. “I don’t want to end our relationship like this, but-“

“End? What?” Jeongin’s doe eyes are wide as he jumps up and stares at you, weak in the knees just from the thought of leaving you. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“It’s not just this incident.” You take his hands in yours, rubbing your thumbs over the backs of his hands to comfort him. “This relationship was never meant to go far. We both know that.” Just because you both knew it doesn’t mean Jeongin wanted to accept it. “You deserve better than your old neighbor, and I need to move on to be happy. You deserve a real girlfriend, and my kids deserve a real dad.”

“I can be a great father!” Oh, he’s so desperate. You’ve never seen him so tearful. Your heart stings just seeing him like this. With your hands still intertwined with his, you pull him onto your lap. “Where is all this coming from? You just said the other day that you loved me.”

“I do love you, but not like this.” You can’t look him in the eyes right now. It’ll hurt too much for you both. “We’re just sex partners. That’s all this was ever going to be. Do you honestly think I’d let you become the father of my children?”

That dream. That god damned dream. The images of Changbin and you from his dream are all he sees. Your words sting like knives but they go in one ear and out the other; felt, but not heard.

“Please don’t leave me.” Jeongin can’t hold it anymore. He starts to cry, falling into your shoulder to hide his shame. You just pat his back, clutching him to your body. You didn’t expect him to get this emotional. With how your last breakup went, the crying was your job. “I love you.”

“I know,” you say, giving him plenty of time to calm down. His eyes begin to dry, but his chest is heavy. He feels like the world is collapsing around him. “All of this because I couldn’t mind my business and keep out of your journal.”

Your attempt to lighten the mood does get a chuckles out of Jeongin, but it’s followed by a pause in his breathing and a loud sigh. He backs away from your hug, wiping his cheeks and finally looking you in the eyes. It was now you realized that you haven’t made eye contact with him since you started this conversation.

“Can we do it one more time?” Aaaaaand there goes the eye contact. You fumble over your words, mind jumbled from the unexpected proposition. “And if fucking you vanilla didn’t keep you around, can I be your little boy again?”

The light in his eyes is flickering back. His skin feels warm again. Jeongin’s coming back to you. As much as you want to say no, you couldn’t possibly turn down one last time with your favorite boy. “Of course, baby. One more time.”

“I want to break the bed.” Jeongin hops up, pulling you up by your hands before you can even process what’s going on. You’re tired, he’s tired, but you both want this. This is for the both of you. “Ruin me, mommy.”

"A little demanding, aren’t we?” You turn to lock your bedroom door shut as Jeongin sits on the edge of the bed, eager for whatever you’re willing to give him. After turning down the lights, you push Jeongin back on the bed, his legs still hanging over the edge. Although your body was still recovering from the night before, you’re ready to, as Jeongin so kindly put it, break the bed.

You set yourself up on Jeongin’s lap, both of you still clothed, and gently grind down onto his crotch. He’s hard as ever, whining as you roll your hips over him. You bite down on your lip to hold your moans, although your partner doesn’t care how much noise he makes. Jeongin’s sure that if he gets too loud, you’ll shut him up.

“You’re so pretty underneath me, baby.” You lean down to put your hands in his hair, combing through his short hair to cup his cheeks with both of your hands. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything,” Jeongin huffs.

“As much as I yell at you, I do want you to know that I enjoy my time with you,” you say with sincerity dripping from your tone. You kiss his lips sweetly, quickly turning the kiss into a heated mess of tongues. His cheeks are warm against your palms. He feels so small, so precious. All yours. When the kiss breaks, you look each other in the eyes for a moment, his eyes sparkling with innocence despite the circumstances. “My lovely little boy.”

Before Jeongin can speak, you dive in for another make out session, this time the kisses leading down from his pretty lips to his defined jawline. As much as you’d love to leave hickeys, you don’t want him to have a reminder of you for the coming days. Your hands rest on his chest over his shirt as you move down to his neck, hearing him whimper and whine above you.

Your hands slowly move his shirt up to his collarbones, exposing his chest for you to see. When you move down to his chest to play with his nipples, Jeongin throws his head back from the sensation. Your fingers twist his nipple while your mouth keeps busy on the other, sucking at the perk bud. His mind was entirely black, his only thought being how good everything feels. Pulling away from his spit-coated chest, you look down at him like he’s prey. Seeing the look in your eyes, he can feel his dick twitch in his pants.

“You’re so sexy, mommy.” His voice is light and sweet, his submissive persona finally taking him over. “Need to be inside you.”

“So impatient, tsk.” You stand up from his body and pull him up by his wrists. “Take your clothes off, baby. I can’t touch you if you’re clothed.”

Compliantly, Jeongin quickly strips his body of his clothes, taking his pants and underwear down in one motion after yanking his shirt over his head. Behind him, you’re doing the same, getting naked so the fun can really begin.

“Aw, so hard for me already.” You walk up to Jeongin and take his cock in your hand, stroking it while maintaining eye contact with him. His little lip bite makes him look so endearing. “You want me to suck you off, sweetheart?”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Then beg for it.” You remove your hand from his length and step back, staring at him with your arms folded over your chest. He whines loudly before pouting out his bottom lip.

“Please suck me off, ma’am. Wanna cum down your throat...” his eyes wander to your chest before darting back up to your lips where you hold a hint of a smirk. “Please?”

“What my boy wants, he gets.” You smile as his eyes light up. “Back on the bed, boy. Let mommy take care of you.”

Jeongin hops onto the bed, spreading his legs flat for you to get between. You lay on your stomach between his legs, hands immediately going to stroke his cock and play with his balls. He stares down at you, eyes glued to your face as you stare at the head of his cock. He’s already dripping. So pathetic.

Before taking him fully into your mouth, you run your tongue along the underside of his cock, flicking your tongue against his tip. He bucks his hips up before you wrap your lips around him, bobbing your head around his tip as your hand stays hard at work on his shaft. Jeongin closes his eyes and moans a little too loud for your liking, but your mouth is too busy to scold him.

“Fuck, so nice,” Jeongin whimpers between heavy breaths. He jerks his head back as his toes curl, the pleasure from your mouth becoming too hot to handle. Hollowing out your cheeks, you’re prepared for Jeongin to cum fast. If he’s really frustrated enough to spy on you, then he isn’t lasting long with your mouth on his cock. “M-mommy...”

You pop your mouth off of him, “yes, doll?”

“Please swallow my cum, okay?” Jeongin looks so angelic with the dim light bouncing off of his sweaty skin. “I’m so close.”

Without a word, you get back to business, swirling your tongue around his cock like it’s a lollipop. You can feel him throb in your grip, and his balls start to tense. For one last effort, you remove your hand that was jerking him and take him down your throat, feeling yourself nearly gag from his length.

The sensation becomes too much, and Jeongin cums down your throat, bucking his hips into your mouth while drool escapes the corners of your mouth. Carefully, you pull your head off of him, not dripping too much out of your mouth. Jeongin watches your face with a dazed expression as you swallow his load just as he asked.

“You taste so good every time, pretty boy.” You wipe your mouth of any excess runoff while Jeongin catches his breath, laying with all his limbs extended. “My turn now, isn’t it?”

“Do whatever you want to me.” Jeongin sits up on his elbows, finally able to look at you with his mind fully present. “I’m all yours.”

“You wanted to break the bed, right?” You straddle his hips, cock starting to harden again as he feels you rub his cock through your folds. “Let’s make that a goal, shall we?”

“Oh my god, please.” Jeongin holds your hips and presses his cock up against you, thrusting through the folds of your cunt.

“Hands to yourself, baby.” You take his wrists and hold his hands above his head. “Unless you need some help restraining them.”

“Oh mommy, please handcuff me!” He’s too excited about this. Still, you reach over into your bedside drawer and pull out a pair of leather cuffs, wrapping them through the bed frame before retraining his wrists.

“Much better.” You kiss his lips before leaning back up to ride him. Now that’s he hard again, you raise your hips from his to line his cock with your entrance. “I’m not stopping unless you say something, got it?”

“Yes ma’am!” Jeongin can hardly wait to be inside you again.

You slowly lower yourself down onto his cock, letting him stretch you out and fill you up with his length. Your moans are deep and grand, while Jeongin pathetically whines like a bitch in heat. You love it. “Mmm, good boy, Innie. Such a good boy.”

Your praises make him stutter in his whimpers something vaguely resembling a “thank you”. You’ll take what you can get, surprised he can think of anything when he’s this far into his headspace.

You start to ride him, your hips lifting and lowering on his cock. The continuous clenches of your cunt around his dick makes him throb, his chest raising and lowering with every deep breath. His tip runs into your cunt as his shaft drifts against your walls. You feel so full, so good, so fucking good. The only thought on your brain is Jeongin’s cock.

When you speed up your strokes, the bed starts squeaking louder and louder. Between your shared moans and the suggestive bodily noises, you couldn’t be any louder unless you wanted to scare your children awake. Still, you didn’t get this house so well soundproofed for nothing, although that was admittedly Minho’s idea.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Jeongin.” Dropping the pet names for a moment, you let your body go as you feel your orgasm start to near. One of your hands goes down to your clit while your other holds you up, planting firmly next to Jeongin’s head. Your tits are practically in his face, and he can’t help but take a peek. “You think you can cum again for me, baby?”

“Of course, yes! Please let me cum.” Jeongin struggles against the restraints, totally forgetting they’re even there, in an attempt to wrap his arms around you. His hips buck up into you as you slowly stop your motions and let him fuck you. Hitting your g-spot so effortlessly, you tighten around him as your orgasm washes over you.

While listening to you curse through your orgasm, Jeongin relentlessly pounds into you from underneath, jutting his hips up just enough to make you lose your mind. With your cunt convulsing around his dick, Jeongin can’t hold it in anymore. As you come down, he cums up into you, fucking his release into you for as long as he can before his legs go weak and he stops, you gently lowing into him before falling into his chest, kissing the nearest skin to your lips.

Suddenly, the room feels gloomy. You both know the goodbye is coming. Neither of you are ready. Being the mature on, you stretch your arms from around him and sit up, ending this sensual moment.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You lift yourself off of him, holding your legs together to keep the mess from dripping down your legs. “There’s tissues next to you if you want to clean up.”

Jeongin soberly takes a tissue and cleans off the mess between his legs, wishing this wasn’t the last time he’d have to clean himself up in your bed. One last time, he turns to his side and sniffs your pillow, an oddly nostalgic feeling washing over his senses. He’ll miss this.

You come out of the bathroom with a robe around you. Jeongin’s still lying on the bed collecting his thoughts. You look at each other. His smile is so pure. He’s happy just to see you.

“Thank you for everything, Jeongin.” You walk over to where he lays and kiss him on his forehead. His cheeks flush pink, but he stops smiling. He knows what’s coming. “You should go.”

“Does this mean I’m also fired?” You nod at his question, and now Jeongin’s double disappointed. “Did you enjoy tonight?”

“As much as I could.” You look around at the clothes scattered on the ground before picking up Jeongin’s underwear and handing them to him. “You should head home. It’s late.”

Jeongin takes his underwear out of your hand, and now he’s red with embarrassment. He gets dressed as you walk back to the living room to get his bookbag so he can walk out as easily as possible.

“Bye, Jeongin. I’ll see you around I guess.” This is so much more awkward than you intended. You’re waving goodbye as he walks down your driveway, but he isn’t even looking at you. When he turns back to his house, you see him wave his entire arm towards you.

“Bye Ms. L/n! Thank you!” His yell is so cute. You can’t help but smile before walking back into your house to finally go to bed.

Walking into his silent house, Jeongin runs up to his room to finally be at peace. He tosses his bag towards his bed before sitting against his door with his head in his hands. He isn’t crying (he already did that). He’s decompressing. That’s what he’s calling it, anyway.

Looking at his desk, that’s where it sits. That fucking journal. The thing that got him into this mess. The omen that’s been haunting him since that night. Jeongin can hardly look at the black and white marbled pattern. As nice as he thought his writing was in that book, he can’t have it anymore. The clusterfuck that his journal represented was too much to handle. It’s time to move on.

🍓🍀🍯.

Jeongin: Hey sorry it’s late can I use your fire pit tomorrow night?

Seungmin: Wtf why?

Jeongin: Long story. I just need to burn something.

Seungmin: Should I invite the others?

Jeongin: Sure let’s make it a party

Seungmin: I expect a full explanation tomorrow, alright?

Seungmin: I don’t just light up the fire pit for anyone.

Jeongin: Thank you

Seungmin: Anything for you bro :)

Jeongin: omg don’t call me bro you’ve been hanging with Felix too much

Seungmin: Is it really that obvious?

Seungmin: Damn 😔

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

“Do it! Do it!” Jeongin’s friends were chanting behind him, eager to see the youngest burn his notebook. Jeongin looked down one last time at the journal before tossing it into the open flame and watching the fire burn higher and brighter. He steps back into Felix who holds him by his waist, pulling him into a back hug.

“Fuck yeah!” Jisung raises his beer in the air and turns up the music with his phone. Hyunjin and Jisung go dance on the patio while Seungmin tends to the fire. “Woo! Jeongin’s free!”

“I’m proud of you, Jeongin.” Felix turns him around, bringing him into a regular front hug. “I don’t know the whole story, but I’m glad you moved passed whatever was getting you down, man.”

“I’m not over it yet, but this sure did help.” Jeongin looks back at the fire before faintly smiling. “Let’s go drink.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” The Aussie in Felix is eager to grab a beer like the rest and loosen up, Jeongin joining his hand in the cooler. Seungmin smiles as he looks over his friends, all smiling and singing to a song from 2009. “Min, ya joining?”

“I’d rather not burn my house down. I can sing from over here.” They all cheer before continuing to sing their childhood classic.

For the first time in forever, Jeongin’s thinking of something other than you. He’s happy. Let him be happy.

taglist: @binnie-m00n @sparklysung @starsareseen @sailorhyunjinz @gothicstay @vogueinnie @mariannaab @spilledtee

Thank you for reading this series and supporting my writing!!! This has been a really fun series to write and I’m glad so many people enjoyed it :) Again, thank you!

#kpopcatalog #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut #i.n smut

214 notes · View notes

salemorbit · 4 years

Text

By Suprise

[MHA x genderneutral!Reader]

Headcanons for Midoriya, Bakugou, and Todoroki

~~~~~~~

first kissesssssss how they would do it bc i'm soft like that hehehe

~~~~~~~

❄️Todoroki 🔥

whoooooo boy this man

when i say This Man

Yes, he's mostly emotionally oblivious but alas...

You had had a crush on Todoroki since the first day of class 1-A

When you walked in and chose your seat, everything was going smoothly

Until He Walked In

And Oh My God

You could've sworn it raised ten degrees in the classroom and it wasn't just todoroki's quirk as you felt your face heat up at the sight of the pretty boy

And then he sat next to you and your entire world froze

From then on, you were always so nervous around Todoroki and flustered whenever he would ask you a question about an assignment or if he could borrow a pencil

You greatly admired his quirk and his control over either side of his body, jealous of the fact that he had such an amazing quirk that caught the eye of tons of hero agencies

Little did you know, Todoroki also had feelings for you as well *eyebrow wiggle*

He thought your personality was amazing, and your skills in battle were astounding when both improvisational and strategic

Poor guy totally fell for you in a matter of days

It wasn't until near your graduation from UA that Todoroki grew a pair and decided to shoot his shot before your hero agency whisked you away from him for good

With proper support from Midoriya and Bakugou Todoroki invited you to a celebratory dinner for your graduation and planned to seal the deal then

Todoroki nervously fiddled with his hands under the table, staring down the candle in the middle of it intensely. It was two minutes until your scheduled meeting time, but Todoroki had arrived ten minutes early to get over his nerves.

A minute later, you walked in with all smiles, and your eyes twinkling under the ambient light, and your hair done exactly the way he liked it, and--

He wasn't over his nerves.

Todoroki awkwardly stood up as you came toward him, returning your smile gently.

"Hey, Shotou!" You said, sitting down across from him. "Long time, no see," you joked. Todoroki smiled at your lax nature and sat down again, gripping his napkin tightly.

"You look wonderful, [Y/N]," he commented, trying not to let the nerves shine through. You felt yourself blush at the compliment, waving it away bashfully.

"Oh, stop that," you grinned. "You look dashing as always, Sho."

Todoroki's cheeks flared as the waiter came over to take your orders. Miraculously, Todoroki didn't stutter or make a fool out of himself the whole night. The two of you just chatted about the upcoming graduation plans and futures with your respective hero agencies. His heart raced at the fear of possibly backing out of his plan last minute, but Todoroki scolded himself for his anxiety. He was going to do this, whether his legs were shaking or not.

At the end of the dinner, Todoroki walked you back to your third-year dorms. Your conversation never slacked, flowing normally between you two with the foundation of your friendship for the last three years.

You walked close to Todoroki, hand brushing against his every now and again, and you would be lying if you said it wasn't on purpose. As you arrived in front of your dorm door, you both fell quiet. It was the first time in the night that it was awkward, neither of you willing to look the other in the face. You cleared your throat and glanced up at Todoroki, noticing his red-tipped ears. A smile flitted across your face.

"Thank you for tonight," you said, rocking back and forth on your feet. "It was really fun! We should do it again sometime, you know, to catch up with our hero agencies and all."

"Yes, that would be nice," Todoroki nodded stiffly. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as silence blossomed between you again.

"Well, good night," you said, turning to unlock your door. Right as you opened it to step inside, Todoroki stopped you.

"Wait," he said, quickly grabbing your wrist with one hand and tugging on it. Your heart skipped a beat as you turned around with his pull.

And suddenly you were right in front of him, looking into his bi-colored eyes that were mere inches from your own. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the proximity, one of your hands instinctively going to his shoulder to steady yourself while his own hand held your wrist gently.

"I-" You started out, but Todoroki nervously interrupted you.

"If you're uncomfortable-" He rushed out, but you shook your head, smiling slightly.

"No, this is good."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," you breathed out, swallowing thickly. There were a few seconds of quiet before Todoroki's eyes flicked down to your mouth then back to your eyes.

Then his lips were on yours, soft and hesitant, giving you the option to pull away if you'd like. Luckily for Todoroki, you returned the favor, deepening the caresses and moving to interlace your fingers with his.

The moment was tender and vulnerable, spilling out three years worth of pining and stolen glances when the other wasn't looking. You smiled into the kiss, pulling away to catch a breath.

Todoroki looked flushed, an excited gleam in his eyes that bore into yours. You knew how he felt without him having to utter a word, and vice versa.

Stepping backward toward your door, you smiled more fully at him, apparently not able to wipe the look off your face. Todoroki had a dazed look in his eyes as you leaned against the doorway.

"Good night, Sho," you said, squeezing his hand before letting go. He nodded, a stupid grin on his beautiful face.

"Good night, [Y/N]."

••••

💥Bakugou💥

If you think you're making the first move with Bakugou, you are sorely mistaken

With his incredibly spicy attitude, it was no mystery why you would always get so frustrated with Bakugou so quickly

This is kind of like an enemies to lovers situation, ya dig?

Walking into UA, you had known Bakugou sparingly throughout elementary and middle school

There were a few words exchanged here and there, but nothing lengthy until you found out you would be in the same hero course with him at UA

During the first year, you got to know him a little better

You got to see how he fought, how he learned, how he pissed you off

And he also got to see all those same qualities from you :)

But underneath all of that surface level rage and red-haze lay thick layers of admiration and romantic feelings you both had toward each other

tho you totally wouldn't outright admit it

It wasn't until halfway through your second year at UA that things really started to heat up between the two of you (no pun intended)

It all started with a group assignment that paired you with Tsuyu, Kaminari, and Bakugou

Let's just say...things escalated pretty quickly

"You're an absolute ass, and you know it, Bakugou!" Your voice rang through the common area, despite it being relatively late in the evening and most of your classmates were in their rooms relaxing.

Or at least trying to relax, but becoming unsuccessful when your and Bakugou's voices reached decibels such as these. Even Jirou couldn't stand the noise.

"Maybe if you listened to me in the first place, we wouldn't have to recalculate all of your stupid equations!" Bakugou snarled back, throwing his papers onto a table. They spread out and fluttered to the floor, creating another mess you would have to clean up later.

Poor Tsuyu and Kaminari watched the back and forth for several minutes, not daring to intervene between your quarrel. With Bakugou's explosions dotting the air around his clenched fists and your quirk making your aura radiate intense energy? No, thanks.

"That's rich, coming from you," you scoffed, crossing your arms. Bakugou huffed and took a threatening step closer to you.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His voice got dangerously low, but you were determined not to let your facade crumble. You lifted your chin higher indignantly.

"Uh, guys?" Kaminari gulped. "Maybe we should take a break-"

"Piss off, Sparky!" You and Bakugou yelled at the same time. Kaminari withered in his seat, exchanging a worried look with Tsuyu. The frog-girl just shrugged, trying to finish her own work in the meantime.

"You're so unbelievably dense, Bakugou," you let your head fall into your hands. The fiery blond grit his teeth and clenched his fists.

"Says you."

"You know what? I've had enough of your insults-"

"You've had enough of my insults? Eat shit and die."

"Take your own advice!" You yelled, throwing the last of your papers at Bakugou and finally storming out of the room. Bakugou let out a frustrated roar and fell back into his seat, shoving his hands into his pockets.

For the first time that evening, the common room was quiet. Bakugou was silently seething in his seat, not touching any of the papers that flew to the floor. It went like this for about five minutes until Tsuyu spoke up.

"Bakugou," she cleared her throat, "maybe you should go apologize to [Y/N]. What you said was kind of uncalled for."

"Yeah," Kaminari hesitantly agreed, testing the waters. "You were kinda rough with them."

"Well, maybe if they weren't so stupid then I wouldn't have had to say shit like that," Bakugou grumbled. He was quiet for a moment before he sighed, getting up.

"I don't need you extras sopping all over me," he grunted, walking out the door. "I'll go find them."

The sun was setting as you sat on the bench outside the dorms, trying your best not to cry. Tears welled up at the edges of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn't let Bakugou get to you like that. He didn't deserve to get to you like that.

You sniffed and looked down at your hands, feeling a pang in your chest. Did he really think you were that stupid? Did he really want you out of his way? You dryly laughed to yourself, wiping at your eyes. Of course he wouldn't want you, you thought. He was dead set on his future and you were just an obstacle he needed to step over. You meant less to him than you wanted to.

"Hey."

Your head snapped up to see Bakugou standing a few feet away from you, hands in his pockets and eyes trained on you. You frowned, purposefully looking away from him.

"I said, 'hey.' What, did you go mute all of a sudden?" Bakugou scowled at you when you didn't turn to look at him. He sighed deeply before looking out at the sunset himself.

"I'm sorry."

Your breath caught in your throat at the words. Did Bakugou, the Bakugou Katsuki, really just apologize? And to you of all people? You turned a surpised gaze to his standing figure, eyes on his profile. His scowl was softened as he looked at the sun, golden light washing over his features.

In that moment, he was beautiful. And your face heated up at the realization, butterflies swarming your stomach. Flustered, you shifted in your seat, attempting to compose yourself.

"You feel sick or something?" You teased.

"A guy can't apologize without it being weird?" Bakugou shot back, eyebrows furrowed, annoyed.

"It's a little out of character for you specifically," you tilted your head to look at him.

"Yeah? Well, it's 'a little out of character' to just walk away from a fight," he mocked you. You shook your head, standing up to face him.

"Do you ever stop?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

"What's your issue, Bakugou?"

"Maybe you're my issue!"

"What does that even mean?" You spread your arms exasperatedly. Bakugou took two steps toward you.

"It means what I want it to mean," he growled.

"Care to share?"

"Shut up!"

"Make me!"

Bakugou grabbed your waist and pulled you close, forcefully joining his lips with yours. Your hands found their way onto the sides of his head as he gripped one hand on your torso and the other in your hair. The kiss was furious, passionate, and longing all rolled into one.

It eventually slowed down as soon as it started, your previously knitted brows relaxing as you two found a rhythm in the madness. He smelled of singed wood and something sweet underneath. Exactly what you expected.

Breaking away with a gasp, you let your hands slide down his neck and rest on his shoulders. You searched his eyes for anything negative: regret, disgust, anger. Instead, you found a firm softness looking back into your own.

"Hey," you whispered, unable to raise your voice any louder. He smirked at your speechlessness.

"Hey," he replied smoothly, wrapping both arms around your waist. You smiled, playing with the locks of hair at the back of his neck.

"I'd like more where that came from," you quirked an eyebrow at him playfully. Bakugou just rolled his eyes and took your hand from his neck begrudgingly, pulling you toward the dorm entrance.

"Get your calculations right, and maybe we can negotiate."

••••

Midoriya

soft boy soft boy soft boy soft boy

We all know that if Midoriya finds someone he likes, this boy PINES

Pines like a mfing evergreen forest man

Anyway, you and Midoriya had always known each other in middle school and now in UA

You both ended up in the hero course, but you transferred in after the first year because of some quirk development

Midoriya with his own developing quirk felt sympathy for you trying to keep control over something so new for you

He naturally gravitated toward you, kind of self-appointing himself as your mentor as you went through the different changes and trained with your new abilities

He grew to really like your humor and openness to the situation and how your spirit never died even when you were struggling

And you admired his willingness to help you! He was so kind and you'd never really had anyone be nice to you with no ulterior motives before

It wasn't long, or surprising, when you two started to develop feelings for each other

One day while you were training your quirk, Midoriya thought he'd stop by to spar and test your skills

One thing led to another and....well....

You dodged Midoriya's leg with expertise and landed squarely on the ground. Jetting off to the left, you aimed for a side sneak attack to catch him off-guard. You activated your quirk for a boost, one of the new developed abilities, and swept his legs from under him in a flash. Midorya was sent to the matted ground with an oof, landing on his back. You stood over him proudly, holding out a hand for him to take.

"That's a new one," Midoriya commented, hoisting himself up. "What do you call it?"

"I don't have a name for it yet," you rubbed the back of your neck as he walked to his bag on the bench. "Probably just...sneak attack kick? I dunno, it's not much of a sneak attack if you see it in broad daylight."

Midoriya laughed at that and lifted a notebook from his bag, clicking a pen and writing in it messily. You stretched your arm over your head and attempted to peek around his shoulder to see what he was writing.

"Whatcha doin'?" You asked curiously. Midoriya quickly closed the notebook and turned around, an embarrassed look on his face.

"N-nothing!" He said. You grinned evilly and put your hands on your hips. Midoriya gulped.

"You got a super secret notebook for super secret thoughts?" You joked, pointing a finger in his chest. He nervously shook his head quickly, tightening his hold on the notebook.

"No way! I was just- uh, just making a note, that's all!" He tried to cover up, but you could see through his facade. Shaking your head, you gave him a pitying look.

"After I just showed you how quick I can be, you really think you can keep your little notebook a secret?" You held the notebook up in your hand, causing Midoriya to do a double-take. He lifted his hands from behind his back to see that you put one of your own empty notebooks in his hands, fooling him into not noticing your switch. You wiggled the notebook cheekily.

"Give that back!" He squeaked out, reaching for the book. You held it up and away from his reach just barely, pushing him away with one of your hands.

"If you want the notebook, you're gonna have to catch me!" You laughed, sprinting off to the other side of the room. Midoriya chased you, using his quirk to make his reflexes faster. Fortunately for you, you knew his tricks. Anything he thought of to try to get the book back, you already figured he would do.

"[Y/N], don't make me ask again," Midoriya reasoned, holding up his hands. You shook your head again, grinning.

"I don't think you even asked a first time!"

"[Y/N], please."

"Why don't I just take a little look-see here..."

"No!"

Midoriya launched at you, but you twisted your body at the last moment to catch him with your legs. He fell to the ground with you pinning him and sitting on top, still holding the notebook. He was dazed from the landing as you began to flip through the pages tauntingly.

"Let's see..." You began, not noticing the terrified look on Midoriya's face. "Stat records, costume ideas...Ah! Hero notes!"

"[Y/N]-" Midoriya groaned but you hushed him.

"You've taken notes on almost all the heroes you've encountered. Impressive!" You nodded. Midoriya covered his reddening face with his hands, admitting defeat. You remained perched above him, straddling his torso.

"I'll pay you fifteen dollars to let this whole thing go," Midoriya reasoned. You just ignored him, scanning through the entries until you found one on yourself.

"Wow, my first fan!" You laughed, looking over the page. "Such detailed notes, too. You've got my special attacks, my defense moves, my favorite color-"

That made you stop. You instantly shut up, staring at the entries that Midoriya had made on you. Looking over the list, and it was long, you saw that his notes stretched far past just what made you a hero.

He had noted your favorite color, what you liked to eat, your favorite animal. He had your likes and dislikes neatly scrawled on the pages, front and back filled with different tidbits about yourself that he had picked up. You looked past the notebook and down at the embarrassed boy.

"I don't know if I find this flattering or creepy," you admitted. Midoriya quickly removed his hands from his face urgently.

"It-it's not like that, I swear!" He exclaimed, shaking his head. "I'm not weird, I promise. I just...thought you were noteworthy, that's all."

You felt something blossom in your chest as your own cheeks went red. Clearing your throat, you glanced back at the notes he had taken on you, no doubt things you had told him or ranted about in the past. He really thought you were noteworthy?

Further down the list were things that were less surface-level and more of his own opinions: your personality, the sound of your laugh, how your eyes looked when you were excited. You couldn't help but smile at the effort.

"I'm sorry if it's weird, I just-"

"I think it's really sweet," you interrupted him, laying the notebook on the ground. His chest warmed at the sight of your sincere smile, you looking down at him like that.

"Y-You do?"

"Yeah! No one's ever really paid that much notice to me," you admitted sheepishly. Midoriya's eyes softened at your comment.

"I don't see why they wouldn't," he said impulsively. "You're amazing. I couldn't help but notice you."

You smiled stupidly down at the boy who had shown you so much kindness these past few months. He had shown that he cared about you in so many ways, all of them small and unique to who he was. You felt so incredibly lucky to have found someone like him.

"I know we just sparred," Midoriya blurted out, "and I know we're kinda sweaty, but you look really cute right now, and I don't really have much else to hide so I guess it couldn't hurt to maybe just-"

"Yes, you can kiss me," you finished for him. Midoriya sucked in a breath, smiling thankfully, before pulling you down to meet him halfway.

Your hands rested on the mat on either side of his head as he pulled you down by your shirt, gently moving his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, just like the way he treated you daily. You couldn't help but smile into it, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment that you'd dreamed of for weeks.

Breaking apart, neither of you had much to say as your faces were both incredibly red and Midoriya could barely process how his dreams had come true just like that. You leaned down to give him one last parting kiss before attempting to get up from the floor.

"I didn't say I was done," he muttered, pulling you down again and smiling before going in for another kiss.

~~~~~~

AHDKFISHWNEKDDJ these all ruined me completely goodbye i am deceased from the adorableness

requests are welcome! :)

280 notes · View notes

willowcrowned · 4 years

Note

kit fisto carpet artisan

thank you for reminding me.

So, the important part of the Kit Fisto carpet artisan au is that he leaves the Order to make carpets. The going theory among the jedi is that he had an uncle on Coruscant that left him a carpet shop and he decided to stop being a Jedi to carry on the dying trade, but no one knows but him, and he’s not telling. He also takes Nahdar, his padawan, with him. If Nahdar knows why Kit left, he’s not telling anyone either.

So by the time Anakin is sixteen or so, Kit Fisto, ex-jedi and carpet maker extraordinaire, has a bustling business just outside the senate district— close enough for any of the Jedi to visit. And oh boy do they visit.

Typically, when someone leaves the Order, it’s something only spoken about in hushed tones. There’s no gossip, nor speculation, because Jedi don’t gossip, and besides, they usually already have the reason— while no one is obligated to give a reason for leaving, it’s considered polite to do so. It’s not... dishonorable to leave, but a certain distance inevitably develops. Once someone leaves the jedi, they’re leading a completely different life, and most leave Coruscant entirely.

Kit Fisto is not typical. There’s no warning— not a single inkling that he might be considering leaving the Jedi. One day, he walks into a High Council meeting, declares politely that he’s leaving and taking Nahdar with him, and tells them all they’re welcome to visit him at his new address. (He also makes a point of leaving several of his belongings in his apartment, to give the more decorous members of the Order an excuse to visit.)

Come Monday, Yoda is on his doorstep, probing for answers. Kit does not give them, but he does give Yoda a tour and some tea. When Yoda comes back, cackling and pleased, everyone else takes this as the go-ahead to visit. The jedi visit regularly— only when he’s closed, and only when he has time, but they do come.

This is where the fun begins.

Anakin Skywalker, seventeen years old, very moody and very angry, has an appointment with Palpatine. Anakin Skywalker, seventeen years old, very moody and very angry, has been banned by Obi-Wan from using any speeders, bikes or otherwise, by an exhausted Obi-Wan. (Nominally, it’s because he started a fight in the salles two days ago, but if it keeps him from seeing Palpatine, then so much the better.) (Anakin knows what Obi-Wan is doing, and is furious about it. While perhaps justified, this does not help his case.) So what does Anakin do? He makes his own speeder from old parts. (If he’d thought to call Palpatine, the man would have sent a car for him, but since last time that happened he got a two lecture from both Windu and Obi-Wan, so he’ll just have to be sneaky.)

The problem with speeders cobbled together from old parts is that they have a tendency to break down, usually at the most inopportune moments. For Anakin, this is on the edge of the Senate district, since he was taking a circuitous route to see Palpatine in the hopes of avoiding anyone else he knows. Fortunately, Kit’s shop is nearby, and he’s been with Obi-Wan enough times to know the way.

Anakin walks into Kit’s Artisan Carpets, sopping wet from the rain that just started and looking like nothing so much as a wet kitten. Kit, who has all the grace and wisdom of a jedi master, does not tell him this, and instead offers him a towel and the use of his speeder when Nahdar gets back. In the meantime, he offers, would Anakin like to come see his workshop?

Now, keeping in mind that I know nothing about carpet making, and even less about artisan carpet making, I’m going to say that Kit shows Anakin how to do something simple that’s carpet related. And Anakin likes it. Anakin really likes it. He already loves working with his hands, but this is different. There’s no thinking involved, nothing but the repetitive movement of his hands. Normally, he hates being quiet, being still, but he’s so cold and tired that he’s able to just... drop into a trance. Before he knows it, it’s three hours later and he’s missed the meeting with Palpatine entirely.

Kit sends him back to the Jedi Temple more relaxed than he’s ever been, finally having been able to achieve a meditative state, and with an invitation to come back and help again whenever he’s nearby. When he gets back, Obi-Wan is amazed at how calm Anakin is, and forgets to lecture him on leaving the temple. Anakin does his homework, goes to bed, and when he wakes up, he doesn’t feel so awful.

The next time he comes back from Palpatine’s, riled up and wanting to scream, he stops by Kit’s shop and helps out with some repetitive carpet-related task. The dull motion helps lets his mind wander, but not too far— lets him be still without his brain beginning to scream. For the first time, Anakin is able to meditate without trauma flashbacks or overwhelming, near-painful understimulation.

Once again, he comes back to the Temple calm and slightly better balanced, once again, Obi-Wan doesn’t lecture him. The pattern continues.

Cut to two years later, when Anakin is having nightmares about his mother. Helping out in Kit’s shop lets him meditate on the visions, and Kit has been, well, really great to talk to about attachment. Palpatine is nice and all, but he doesn’t really get the Jedi— has never understood Anakin’s desire to be one. Kit, who knows what is like and is still more Jedi than most Jedi, in Anakin’s private opinion, does.

Kit talks him through visions, helps him articulate his fears, and sends him to communicate with Obi-Wan. When Anakin says that he’s having visions— not just dreams, but solid visions— Obi-Wan promptly requests a sabbatical, and they go to Tatooine.

Obi-Wan helps him rescue Shmi from the Tuskens, and since Shmi is still alive, Anakin has something to focus on instead of his own rage. No Tuskens get murdered— hell, Anakin is so worried about his mom it doesn’t even occur to him to go kill them until after she’s safe. By that point, he’s not in the thick of the moment, so he has time to imagine slaughtering every single one of them before he does it. He thinks of how good it would feel, yes, but also of the screams, of the feeling of their dying minds against his own, and recoils.

When they get back to Coruscant, new fence installed and comm numbers exchanged, Palpatine’s plan is ruined— Amidala already has a jedi protector, no one knows what to do with the dart, and Anakin is much more well balanced now that he’s seen his mother, knows she’s safe, and she’s talked him through his emotions in a way that Obi-Wan can’t.

Does Palpatine give up on Anakin as a lost cause? Absolutely not. He does, however, adjust the plan, leaving an even more obvious trail to Kamino. Obi-Wan still ends up on Geonosis, only this time Anakin is there too, and Padmé isn’t. And, here’s the kicker— neither of them managed to get the message to the Jedi Council, so they’re stuck in their little rotating columns while Dooku stalks around and lies blatantly, waiting for them to be rescued and for the war to start. But the rescue never comes.

After the fourth or fifth day of this, Dooku realizes that if Palpatine managed to mess up such a simple plan, it might not be a good idea to follow his orders. He defects, exchanging everything he knows (which is quite a lot) for amnesty. Obi-Wan agrees to the trade, and the three of them escape Geonosis to go face down Palpatine.

Anakin is predictably furious about this. He doesn’t believe Dooku, of course, and he’s raring to kill the guy, but he’s also pretty sure he can’t take on both Obi-Wan and Dooku and win, so he waits until they get to Coruscant to comm the council. (Dooku lets him do it. The backup will be useful and he thinks he can time it so Sidious is throwing Force lightning at them when Yoda shows up.) (He can totally time it right.)

Yoda shows up just as Palpatine whips out a red lightsaber, since Dooku went straight for the beheading without letting him talk, and Obi-Wan was holding Anakin back to see what would happen. Palpatine could have beaten each of them on their own, probably even two at once, provided Dooku and Yoda didn’t team up— but against Anakin, who could probably vaporize someone with his mind if he tried hard enough, Yoda, who’s seven hundred years old and still wins the jedi parkour championships every year, Dooku, who’s the best duelist the Order has seen in a long while, and Obi-Wan, who, while not space jesus, a prodigy, or seven hundred years old, is no slouch in any jedi department, especially the ones that involve keeping Anakin from doing anything stupid? Yeah, Palpatine loses.

They all stumble into Kit’s Artisan Carpets an hour later, smelling of ozone and repressed emotions just waiting to come out. Kit looks at them all, makes a pot of tea, settles Anakin at his usual carpet-task doing place for some much needed meditation, and locks them in the room to talk.

“So,” Dooku says to Kit the next morning, once they’ve sorted all the politics and some of the emotions out, “what possessed you to take up carpets?”

Kit tilts his head, considering, and answers. “I just felt like it.”

(”Really?” Nahdar asks later. “You’re not going to tell them?”

“Well,” Kit replies, “would they believe me?”

“I guess not,” Nahdar says, “but time travel is hard to believe in.”

“It was more of a vision, really.” Kit huffs. “Besides, I did feel like it. Getting stabbed gives one new priorities.”

“Tell me about it,” Nahdar agrees. “Tell me about it.”)

#this happened because of that one post where a bot took over the kitfisto url to sell carpets #and apparently that concept was an irresistible temptation for me #that likely surprises no one but me #star wars #star wars au #kit fisto: carpet artisan au #willow's aus #kit fisto #star wars fix it au #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #count dooku

228 notes · View notes

mikasaluna · 4 years

Text

a certain scientific railgun smut hcs

⚠ WARNINGS：nsfw ! smut !

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED IMMEDIATELY

「 Keep in mind your triggers and do not engage if it will provoke negative emotions. You are responsible for your own actions. 」

♥️

notes：gender neutral pronouns, AFAB character, fluff, adult characters, set after graduation

A Certain Scientific Railgun /とある科学の超電磁砲

Accelerator　アクセレレーター

- needs to be in control at all times

- he’s not gonna let you on top so don’t even ask

- baby boy just wants to make you feel good <3

- not that he will ever admit that to you

- holds you roughly by the hips and grinds you down on his thigh while you’re making out

- loves watching you being pleasured, and hearing your sweet moans

- “what a desperate little slut, getting off just from my thigh like that”

- the little shit immediately pushes you back onto the bed just as you’re about to finish, leaving you wriggling and whining beneath him

- his soft white hair tickles your stomach as he pushes his face between your thighs

- really, really good with his tongue

- you were already so close, cumming embarrasingly fast as he sucks harshly on your clit

- rubs your sides mindlessly as he settles himself back on top of you, inspecting your already fucked out face

- you can feel his hard bulge through his pants pressed against your naked, wet cunt

- is super blunt about it

- “let me fuck you”

- “of course you’re letting me you filthy fucking whore”

- “I bet you love having your stupid slut cunt filled up, huh?”

- starts gentle and deep

- but soon enough he will flip you over and pound you into the matress like you’re his own personal little fuck doll

- when he’s about to finish he will push his face into the crook of your neck where you can hear his breathing falter, and feel his hot breath in your ear

- ...he bites

- you have to stop him after the third round, worried you wouldn’t be able to walk the next morning

- plot twist: you couldn’t walk for the next two days

Kongou Mitsuko 婚后光子

- will try her best to act confident and self assured

- but quickly becomes a stuttering, blushing mess

- doesn’t mind showing off her body to you, she just wants to turn you on as much as you do to her

- asks you to please give her hickeys; on her neck, collarbone, breasts, and especially the insides of her thighs

- maybe give her a hickey on her clit too

- attempts to deny it, but she loves when you top her, and maybe even when you’re a little rough too

- “me, kongou mitsuko!? of course i am not a sub or anything...”

- it’s pretty obvious that isn’t true once you’re finger fucking her into the bed while she’s moaning and babbling out incomprehensible strings of words

- if she gets too loud you might have to be a bit more forceful and put your hand around her throat, but somehow this only makes her louder??

- “please, more there~”

- “h-harder, faster, please don’t stop”

- when you smack her thigh as a warning, you can hear her bite back a moan

- she won’t stop wriggling so you have to hold her thighs tightly, while you put your face between her legs

- the way her face scrunches up as you flick your tongue on her clit is absolutely adorable

- poor baby’s words get all scrambled until all she can do is pant and moan at how good you’re making her feel

- her legs start shaking when she comes undone on your tongue, wrapping her thighs around your head and grinding up into your face

- which she immediately regrets

- “I-I’m sorry for cumming before you said it’s okay”

- “I know I’ve been a bad girl”

- as her punishment, you sit on her face and make her eat you out :)

- she tries her best to make it up to you, holding her tongue out for you to use

- part of you thinks she enjoys this even more than you do

- the way her tongue rubs against your clit has you rocking your hips desperately into her face

- when your breathing starts to falter she will pump her digits into your sopping wet pussy to help you along

- which ends in you creaming all over her fingers

Kamijou Touma 上条当麻

- very honest

- generally likes to start slow and let you take lead

- but sometimes if he’s really needy, he will come lie on top of you when you’re on your stomach, kissing your shoulders gently

- you know what he wants straight away, his bulge pressed into the back of your bare thighs though plain grey sweatpants

- you push him back against the headboard, climbing onto his lap to straddle his waist

- he grabs your hips, kissing you and roughly grinding up into you while pulling off your shirt

- soon he pulls of your panties too, your messy cunt drooling all over the fabric of his sweatpants, making a visible wet patch on the grey fabric

- “so you’ve been waiting all day for this too, huh?”

- he rubs your clit gently as you sink down on his member, your walls fluttering around his cock at the stretch

- having you on top of him and watching your face as he rubs tight circles around your clit turns him on more than anything

- he’d let you ride him all night

- as much as you want to, by the time he’s about to cum your thighs are sore and your core is throbbing

- since you’re too tired he’ll grab your hips and help you along

- mumbles out praise as he finishes, still bouncing you on his lap

- “you look so perfect like this”

- the king of aftercare, always makes sure you’re okay and gets you whatever you need

- he will cook for you, bring you a warm towel, run you a bath

- ...which sometimes leads to round two

- always checking that he did good and that you’re satisfyed

- if not, he will gladly go down on you, or make you cum around his fingers until you can’t form proper sentences anymore

- he secretly hopes you’re not satisfied yet

- gives you one of his shirts to wear after <3

Mikasa Mikoto 御坂美琴

- tsundere, so tsundere

- “i-idiot, don’t touch me there...”

- “wait! no... actually, p-please don’t stop”

- blushes at every little touch you give her

- hickeys make her melt under your touch, especially on her neck

- and in return you get to hear all the cute moans and noises she makes <3

- at first she gets super shy about letting you see her body, so you only take off her shorts and panties

- before holding her against the wall and putting your face up her skirt :)

- you can feel her legs get shakey as you suck gently on her clit, so you make sure to hold her up well

- when she’s close she will grab your hair roughly and squeeze your head between her thighs while stuttering out apologises to you

- one time you even made her come so hard with your tongue that she shocked you with her electricity a bit

- but now she only uses her electricity whenever your vibrator runs out of charge, or occasionally on your clit if you ask her nicely

- kiss her and tell her how good she did for you

- while you’re on top of her distracted by her lips, she will slip her hand into your panties and finger you

- the way she works her hands on you is absolutely sinful, it’s obvious that she must practice on herself

- won’t let you pull away to catch your breath, because she’s embarrased of how red her face gets

- it helps her to get more comfortable knowing that she can return the favor for you though

- once she relaxes a bit, holding her on your lap and using your vibrator on her is like a sight from heaven

- you wrap your arms around her body and alternate between grabbing at her soft breasts with your free hand, and curling your fingers into her velvety walls

- the way that her eyes begin to water as she bites into her lip to stop herself from moaning is truly to die for

- naturally, you squish her cheeks and make sure she lets every last whimper and moan out of that pretty mouth of her’s

- “w-wait... but I -ah, can’t keep my voice down”

- it’s okay, that’s exactly what you wanted <3

Sogiita Gunha 削板軍覇

- actually really sweet

- very enthusiastic

- he thinks you’re the most beautiful and precious person in the whole world and will absolutely make sure you know that

- mans will finger fuck the insecurity out of your body if you even think about being shy around him

- his number one goal is to make you feel as good as possible

- always asking for your consent before anything

- “please can I kiss you pretty baby?”

- “please can you sit on my lap?”

- “please can you sit on my face?”

- feeds off of your moans when he’s pleasuring you

- the louder you are, the harder and faster he’ll go

- whatever he lacks in experience, he makes up for with enthusiasm and stamina

- so much praise

- “you sound so pretty baby doll”

- loves when you scratch his back, or when you tell him how good he’s doing

- sometimes doesn’t realise when you’ve come so he accidentally overstims you

- lets you start on top so you can adjust to his size

- but always gets too excited and starts to bounce you up and down on his cock himself like you’re a stupid little fuck toy

- he’ll probably be moaning even louder than you are

- triple checks that you’re comfy before he grabs you by the ass, lifts you up and fucks you against the wall

- wants to pound you against everything; the couch, the bed, the kitchen counter, the window... you name it, he’ll do it

- lasts for so damn long without ever getting tired

- he can make you come at least three times in one round

- the angle of his pelvic bone hitting against your clit with every thrust doesn’t help that matter

- or his cock hammering repeatedly against your g spot

- when he is finally about to finish, he will hold onto your flesh hard enough to leave bruises, pushing himself as deeply inside of you as humanly possible until you can feel the tip of his cock hitting your cervix

- if you let him, he will breed you and stuff you full of his cum

Shirai Kuroko 白井黒子

(A/N: the characters in ‘Kuroko’ directly translates to “black child” and it always makes me laugh whenever Mikasa is like “KUROKOOOOOO” cause literally no one would call their kid that in English)

- takes no shit, A+ brat tamer

- dresses up in the skimpiest little lingere sets she knows you love, and watches you get all flustered

- things can go one of two ways:

- one, you act like her obedient little fuck whore and do everything she says

- two, she teases you for hours then makes you watch as she rides your thigh without ever letting you cum

- kuroko has so many toys... but don’t worry, she loves to share with you

- first she orders you to make yourself cum in front of her, observing how you work your fingers against your clit and blush in embarrasment at her gaze

- soon enough though she won’t be able to help herself anymore, perching herself on top of you so her ass is wiggling just above your face, your wet cunt in her full view

- presses her tongue flat against your clit and laps you up like it’s her last meal

- your moans make her go absolutely feral, even more so when you’re pushing your tongue between her folds

- the vibrations from her panting and moaning around your clit, and the view of her pretty pussy right in your face is almost too much for you

- especially when she is going down on you so well like that

- pumping one finger experimentally into her messy cunt, followed by a second, you continue to lick at her clit

- watching you play with your pussy really made her soaked huh

- as much as you want her to cream all over your fingers and cum on your face, she is insistent on making sure you finish first

- she gets off to you is just a giver like that <3

- puts you into the wildest positions and fucks you with a double sided dildo, a hitachi wand held on your clit

- very vocal, loves teasing you while her free hand is wrapped tightly around your throat

- “come on baby, use your words, tell me how much you like it”

- she’ll coo at you innocently, knowing damn well you couldn’t speak if you wanted to

- “i guess you don’t like this... i’ll just have to stop then, what a shame”

- you better believe she’s not gonna continue fucking you until you’re sobbing and begging for her to keep going

- of course that is exactly what she wants, to turn you into a submissive slut all for her own personal use <3

119 notes · View notes

mordoriscalling · 4 years

Text

Stay or Sail Away (1/6)

Here comes part one the modern AU fake dating Geraskier fic that I talked about in this post. I’d like to post each part daily. Tagging @geraskier-trashh as requested! :D

***

It’s not that Jaskier has any problem finding someone, thank you very much. It’s just that he’s busy. Busy with concerts and composing, meeting fans at various events, travelling, internet dramas involving Valdo (it’s always fucking Valdo). There’s no time for a relationship, only for occasional one night stands that sometimes that leave him heartbroken because he actually manages to fall in love with someone in the span of a few hours. It’s fine, though. Heartbreak inspires him like little else.

Jaskier's never complained about lack of bed partners, when he seeks them out. He’s charming, after all. Still, the moment he hears “commitment”, he flees. It’s just not his way. Or perhaps he’s never found anyone fascinating enough to commit to; it takes a lot to keep his attention. He wasn’t even looking for someone like that. Not until recently.

His troubles began a week ago, during a phone call with his mum. She reminded him of his father’s 65th birthday party and asked if he would bring anyone with him. This was followed by a series of questions about his love life because, as his mum put it, “you’re 35, Julian darling, and you’re always working so hard! I worry you’ll end up alone”. In order to placate her, Jaskier might’ve lied a little tiny bit about some things. As a result, because of all the twists and turns of the conversation, he made his mother believe he had a fiancé.

A fucking fiancé.

Wanda Pankratz was ecstatic, wishing to know everything about her son’s relationship, but he dodged all the further questions by saying that she would meet his love soon enough. She left it at that but, of course, told half the family about it, if the texts and calls from his sisters and aunts were anything to go by.

Hence, The Post.

It’s a bit pathetic and desperate, Jaskier can freely admit, but he has no other choice. His personal guard Zoltan almost pissed himself laughing when Jaskier asked him to pretend to be his fiancé, and not one of his friends knows anyone who would want to do this. Not even his agent Triss could help him out.

It all drove Jaskier to log on his anonymous Facebook account (he is a pretty big name in the UK; better be safe than sorry) and post in one of the big London groups.

“I need urgent help from someone who’d be willing to act as my fiancé during a family party on February the 24th. The only thing I expect is the ability to sing praises of our love and to compliment my aunts. It’ll take around 4 hours and then we end our relationship. Age from 35 to 40. It’d be great if you knew something about the sea because I intend to introduce you as a sailor who’s never home and afterwards, you die. Can anybody help?”

Since yesterday, the post has got more than a thousand reactions (mostly the laughing one and likes) and hundreds of comments. Many people tagged their friends as a joke, which is not helpful, but Jaskier still scrolls down and down, trying not to let his hope die. Nobody seems to think his request is for real and he’s received no serious offers so far. Then, one of the newest comment threads catches his attention.

Lambert Rivia: Geralt Rivia Destiny!

Geralt Rivia Fuck off

Yennefer Vengeberg Omg 😂 Cirilla Vengeberg-Rivia Eskel Rivia you must see this!

Cirilla Vengeberg-Rivia Yesssss!! This is perfect! ❤️

Eskel Rvia Do it Geralt

Geralt Rivia No.

Intrigued, Jaskier decides to check out these people’s profiles. Lambert Rivia is a handsome red-haired man who wears some kind of black military suit in his profile picture. Looking at his bio, Jaskier already knows why Lambert didn’t volunteer himself – he’s in a relationship. Eskel Rivia is blond, even more handsome than Lambert despite facial scars, and also has a photo in a black suit, together with a white cap on his head. There’s no information on Eskel’s relationship status and Jaskier is intrigued indeed. Yennefer Vengeberg is a terrifyingly beautiful woman who, judging how professional her profile picture appears, must work in some serious profession. Cirilla Vengerberg-Rivia is a lovely teenage girl with white-blond hair. Jaskier reckons she’s the daughter of Yennefer and one of the Rivia guys.

He left the poor Geralt’s profile as the last to look at, but now that Jaskier has seen the rest, he checks this one too.

His jaw fucking drops.

Geralt Rivia is a ridiculously handsome man. His face seems practically unreal because, surely, people as beautiful as Geralt don’t actually exist? The man’s long white hair (which makes no sense considering his apparent age), as well as his brown-almost-golden eyes, only add to his otherwordly, stunning appearance. Double stunning in that black military suit he’s wearing in his profile picture, just like Lambert and Eskel. The suit looks familiar and Jaskier has a nagging feeling he really should know what kind of army it is. Google helps him out and he quickly puts two to two – Geralt, Eskel and Lambert serve for the Royal Navy.

He bursts out laughing.

This is too good.

He wonders what he should to about this. Now that he knows about Geralt’s existence, he can’t really miss the chance of meeting him, however slim. His gut feeling tells him not to let the opportunity slip and well, who is Jaskier not to listen?

When he’s in the middle of debating what to write to the man, his phone pings. There’s a new messenger notification... with Geralt’s name. With a racing heart, Jaskier opens the message.

FEB THE 18TH AT 06:14 PM Hey. Everyone’s telling me to message you and won’t leave me alone. Is your request for real? Please say no

Jaskier chuckles and replies:

Hi! I’m sorry they’re bothering you and I’m also sorry to say that my request is very much for real. I’d be forever grateful if you helped me 😁

To this, Geralt responds with:

They really won’t stop until I agree They think it’s so fucking funny

Jaskier purses his lips, already suspecting this isn’t likely to work out. He'll have to face his loving mum and admit that he lied to her about fucking having a fiancé. She’s going to be so disappointed. At the very prospect, bad mood overtakes him, but he still types what he hopes to be a cheerful answer.

Damn, so sorry mate I won’t push you but, again, I’d totally owe you one if you agree ☺️

What would I get?

Jaskier tries to reason with his hope to calm the fuck down and replies:

Money, or a favour of some sort, I have many connections Could be free tickets to my concerts Even my company for the night 😏 Just whatever you want I really need help

Fuck

For a minute or two, the three dots next to Geralt’s photo disappear, and Jaskier’s hope plummets in a dramatic fashion. Then, more messages from Geralt show up in the chat.

Free tickets seem fine My daughter loves going to concerts She’d like free tickets but I never heard of you

Jaskier starts begging any god out there that Cirilla is Geralt’s daughter. Teenagers make up a large part of his audience (which is great, actually; teenage kids are amazing these days). If she’s a fan, the free tickets are a major bargaining chip.

Well, Julian AP isn’t my stage name I don’t use it on fb

What is it? Your stage name

I’d rather not say here And you must promise me you won’t tell anyone about it too Well, anyone but your daughter

Can you call me? It’s better to talk about this on the phone anyway

Fine.

Jaskier sends Geralt his number and waits for the call. In other circumstances, he’d congratulate himself on getting a man like that to call him so easily, but he’s too anxious. His hands itch for his guitar but he doesn’t get up from his bed. He begins smoothing his hair out with his palms, praying in his mind that Geralt hasn’t changed his mind.

After the agonizing wait of six minutes, there’s an incoming call. Jaskier takes a deep breath and picks up.

“Hello,” says a gravelly baritone voice so pleasant that it sends shivers down Jaskier’s spine.

“Uhm, h-hi, Geralt,” he replies a bit breathlessly, “so, my name’s Julian Alfred Pankratz but I’m known to many as Jaskier.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Jaskier?” Geralt repeats, “the one who sings Her Sweet Kiss?”

Jaskier beams, his chest swelling with pride. “The very same.”

“Fuck,” Geralt growls, “Ciri wants to blast this song whenever we drive somewhere.”

Jaskier laughs. “She would love free tickets to my concerts, wouldn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

Geralt says no more. Jaskier has to swallow down to sop his throat from constricting. “So?” he asks, “Can you do this for me?”

The silence on the other side is deafening and Jaskier doesn’t even breathe until Geralt finally speaks up. “Fine,” he grunts, his tone indicating it’s anything but fine.

Air leaves Jaskier’s lungs in a whoosh, replaced by a flood of such sheer relief that he may as well cry. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he babbles, heady with joy, “Gosh, you’re my saviour!”

“Just don’t tell anyone about this,” Geralt grumbles.

“Not a soul, Geralt, not a soul.”

“Send me the details about when and where and let’s get this over w–”

“No, wait!” Jaskier cuts in, “My family’s very perceptive, they’ll know it’s a ruse. We should plan everything carefully.”

“You’re making me regret this,” Gerlt growls.

“I’m sorry!” Jaskier hastens to say. “Just... at least tell me a bit about yourself?”

Geralt lets out an irritated sigh. “I’m forty, serve for the Royal Navy with my brothers. Eskel’s the nice one and Lambert’s the prick. My ex-wife Yennefer works for the government.” Jaskier actually shudders at this one because he already can picture it. Yennefer seems exactly powerful like that. “We have a daughter,” Geralt goes on, his tone softening, “Ciri. She’s fourteen. We live in London but I’m away often.”

“Oh, lovely,” Jaskier says with a wide smile because, really, this man’s love for his daughter is so clear and endearing, “this is something we can start with.”

“Just make everything up about our relationship and send it to me. I’ll play along.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, still amazed at his luck. Jaskier is almost high on the success of his ingenious scheme and his obligations are therefore non-existent, so nothing stops him from teasing Geralt. “Though, to be completely honest," he says cheekily, "you don’t strike me as the type to sing praises of our love and compliment my aunts.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replies. It doesn’t sound like a negation. “Yen says I’m not that bad if I try.”

The fondness with which he said Yennefer’s name is a cold bucket of water poured on his enthusiasm. “O-oh, ok,” he stutters out, thrown off-track, “So, uhm, would you be willing to try for me?”

For a moment, Geralt says nothing, then answers, “If you give Ciri an autograph.”

Jaskier laughs out loud. “Not a problem at all! Whatever she wants.” He pauses. “Whatever you want,” he adds more seriously.

Geralt only hmms, in a way that Jaskier’s prone-to-romanticism mind would almost call warm. Silence falls between them but it doesn’t feel awkward somehow. “Have to go,” Geralt says.

“Okay,” Jaskier replies quietly, “Thank you again. I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

After Geralt hangs up, Jaskier huffs out a shaky breath. Deep down, he already knows.

This is going to mess him up.

TBC

Part 2

#myfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #modern au #pretend relationship #fake dating #fanfic #let's call this... the Sailor and the Singer AU xD #the Sailor and the Singer AU

44 notes · View notes

clemanime · 4 years

Text

Aphrodisiac

SMELL

John Constantine

A/N: I’ve been doing everything but writing. I apologize. I need to get rid of the stuff in my Drafts so prepare for a smut dump for the next day or so. Love you lots. Muchos besos.

WARNING: Smut, unprotected sex, wirdy dords

“John! Remember you said you’d get me in last time.” Chas said as he followed the tall fellow through the busy sidewalk. “A rat in a dress. Rat in a dress this time right John?”

“If you get in... you get in.” John pulled the cigarette from his lips as he looked back at his friend, putting it out and tossing the butt on the ground. He walked in, going down the steps and stepping to the bouncer. “Two dolphins with wings.” He was granted access, leaving Chas to fend for himself.

At the Midnite Club, at the back and in a blue room, she sat with her legs and arms crossed, staring at the door as she waited for her next client. She had been waiting for him to show up, having no clue who it would be. She raised her finger, pouring herself another drink as she rolled her head to release the tension from her neck.

The door opened and he walked in.

“Well, well, well.” She tapped her finger against the wine glass in her hand. “If it isn’t... the John Constantine.” She didn’t know what to say after that, feeling her insides jumping around with excitement. Being a fan of his was an understatement. She worshipped this man. She knew a lot about him and what he had done when he was younger, knowing his accomplishments better than her own fathers. “What can I do for you?” She took a sip of her wine.

“I was told that you’d be able to make divine weapons.” John said, pulling out one of his cigarettes and lighting it. She bit her bottom lip, watching him out of admiration rather than actually thinking of a response. “Well? Can you?”

“I can.” She nodded, trying to play it cool. “But the price of it might be... expensive for your type.”

“You don’t even know what I want.” He lit a cigarette, his dark eyes slowly trailing down her body. She narrowed her eyes, biting her bottom lip. He took a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke from his lungs. “And how do you know I can’t pay for it?” He leaned his head to the side.

She tried her hardest to keep it together, but the involuntary shiver didn’t go unnoticed. “What kind of weapon do you want then Mr. Constantine?” She uncrossed her leg, her eyes glowing slightly. One of her eyes were red and the other white. “A gun? Sword?”

“Gun. Preferably bullets made with Holy Water.”

“Holy Water?” She questioned. “Plan on killing Demons?” She placed the glass against her lips, preparing to drink before deciding against it. She wanted to be sober for this.

“Something like that.” He took another big drag of his cigarette, finishing it and putting out the butt. “A half-breed like you doesn’t need to worry about it. You’re an Angel after all.”

“I’m also half Demon.” She shot back, feeling as if she were on fire. “So tell me again. Are you planning to kill Demons?” She leaned forward, looking him up and down.

“Yes.” He nodded. “And I need it by the morning.”

“Morning?” She scoffed. “I’ve got other shit to do.”

“For people that don’t matter.” He also leaned forward.

“What makes you think you’re so important?” She questioned, her insides churning with desire. They both knew how important John was. She wanted to hear stories from Demons that barely survived his encounters.

“Because I know you’ve been following me around. Asking about me.” She froze. Not. Like. This. She didn’t expect him to know, covering her tracks, making sure she was in disguise. “Demons have a certain stench to them.” John stood up, walking to the door and locking it before heading back towards her. “But you.” He stood above her, hand in his pocket as the fingers on the other found their way under her chin. She looked up at him, breath caught in her throat. “You have a distinct smell on you.” She avoided his eyes, afraid to get lost in them. “You smell like vanilla, strawberries, and mints.” He seemed confused by the fact that she smelled of mints. “And they always change depending on your mood.”

“You know a lot about me.” She said softly, looking into his eyes and accepting the fall into his control.

John hummed, closing his eyes as he bit his bottom lip. “Strawberries.” He leaned forward. “You smell like that whenever I do something violent. Or when I’m getting dressed. Or when I’m in the shower.” She felt nervous suddenly, averting her eyes again. But when John leaned forward she couldn’t help look at him, biting her own lip. “Mints. You’re nervous.”

“Let me guess... you smell vanilla when you’re doing something that makes me happy?” She questioned.

“It’s usually when I’m fucking someone.” He corrected. “Probably jealousy.”

“Bold of you to assume Mr. Constantine.”

John removed his hand, pulling his jacket off and placing it on the back of the chair. “Whenever I’m fucking a random hooker, making her scream my name... you aren’t there?” She shakes her head in denial. “Are you sure you want to go with that answer?” She nodded. “Then I want you to think about something for me.” She waited patiently for him to continue. “Another woman feeling pleasure. The pleasure I could give you. The possibility of you feeling my tongue, my hands, my lips, and my cock.” He unbuttoned his cuffs, stepping towards her again. She needed to defuse the situation, wanting to get things back on track so that she wasn’t the center of attention. She cleared her throat, her hardened expression faltering to John’s delight. “Mints.” He stepped towards her, stopping when he was close enough to her.

“I didn’t wake up this morning to be seduced by you Mr. Constantine. And what makes you think that I’d be following you around?” She stood her ground. “I have better things to do. More important people to see.”

John pushed her legs apart with his knee, placing his hand on the back of the sofa to prop himself up. He was close and she felt as if she was going to lose her mind. She bit her bottom lip to stifle a moan. “I am important.” He leaned forward so that his lips were brushing against hers. “And the payment for the weapon?”

“Just fuck me John.” She breathed.

He smirked, running the back of his large hand down the side of her face. “How can I fuck you with all those clothes on?” He leaned his head to the side.

She made quick work of the buttons of his pants, panting as John slowly unbuttoned hers. She bit her bottom lip, fingers faltering when his large warm hand pushed into her restricting garments, cupping her womanhood. She gasp, eyes fluttering shut as two of his digits slipped into her. She moaned against his lips, forgetting about her top and wrapping her hands around the back of his neck. "John." She breathed as his pace quickened.

John relished in her moans, digging deeper as her sopping cunt yearned from him. "Look at the little half-breed." She pushed her hips up, circling them as John whispered in her ear. "You like when I'm finger fucking you?" He pulled his fingers out shoving them in her mouth. She sucked on his fingers, swirling her tongue before releasing them. John hummed, pulling her pants off and tossing it. "I wonder if you taste as good as you smell." He got on his knees, pulling her shirt open as his dark eyes trailed down her body.

Feeling bold, she grabbed his tie pulling him towards her. "I didn't tell you to stop pleasing me Mr. Constantine."

"Who said I was pleasing you?" He challenged. "I'm just using you."

She couldn't understand why John Constantine's words made her drip, those words would hurt the feelings of any sane woman. But in the heat of the moment, it set a delicious flame coursing through her heated body.

John dove in when she didn’t reply, his tongue dancing on her wet cunt. She arched, pushing her hands in his hair and tugging. He withdrew her hands and held her wrists, keeping them away from his head so that he continue to work his tongue. Her toes curl as her body tensed, her eyes screwing shut. His tongue flicked against her clit and she released, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. “Shit.” She shivered.

She leaned fell back, catching her breath as John licked his lips. He pushed his pants down, cupping her cheek for a moment as he sank into her. He pushed in deep, grabbing the back calves and holding her legs apart. Her knees touched the back of the couch, leaving her stuck in her spot. She gripped the cushion of the furniture, toes curling when the head of his member pocked at her sensitive area. Her body jolted, tears forming at the brim of her eyes as pleasure surged through her.

John hummed when her walls clamped around him, encouraging him to go faster. He stopped, abruptly pulling himself out and pulling her to her feet. “Let me see what you can do.” He sat down and pulled her on his lap. She smirked, yanking her shirt open to reveal her chest. As she sank down on his length, John sighed, letting his head fall back. “So good.” He growled when she tightened around him. She pushed her hands in his hair, tugging and pulling as her eyes closed. She let her head fall back, eyes glowing bright. Her climax building with an intensity that the Devil himself wouldn’t be able to handle.

Her grip on John tightened as he assaulted her tender spot. Johns thrusts faltered as he himself grew closer to his own release. His arm wrapped around her waist, stopping her movements so that he could control the pace. Her eyes shut tight and her eyes rolled back as she let out a scream. “John!” She cried out, everything around the room flying in different directions. Constantine spilled into her, pumping his hips at a slow pace before coming to a stop. She leaned her head against his shoulder, catching her breath as John rubbed small circles on her lower back. “I didn’t take you for the tender kinda guy Constantine.” She smirked.

John stilled, pushed her off of his lap, and stood up. He adjusted his clothes and pulled out a roll of money. “Have it by tomorrow.” He placed it on the disheveled coffee table and pulled out a cigarette, lighting up with his back still to her.

“Oh Johnny boy.” She laughed. “Keep your money. You’ve paid me enough.” She snapped her fingers and the room was back in order, she got dressed and sat down, biting her lip at the warm liquid still inside of her.

John just hummed, taking his money back and walking towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He walked out, shutting the door behind him.

#John Constantine smut #john constantine #John Constantine x reader smut #John Constantine x reader #Keanu Constantine smut #Keanu Constantine x reader #Keanu Constantine #smut #5 senses fanfics

156 notes · View notes

monsieur-hadrien · 4 years

Text

Test of My Patience (The Only Way of Knowing You) - Drarry Oneshot

Inspired by Fine Line by Harry Styles

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 2.2k word count, crossposted on AO3, 7 November 2020

After the end of fifth year, Harry can't help but notice that something is terrifying Draco.

I recommend reading this while listening to Fine Line slowed and reverbed (linked above) I’m telling you it makes the experience a little more painful.

***

Harry knew something was off with Draco. Ever since the end of fifth year and the whole debacle at the Ministry, his partner had been worryingly silent.

It wasn’t like Draco to be so curt in his letters. He claimed that it’s so Harry had something to keep his spirits up while he was with the Dursleys, and, to be honest, when they spent their first summer apart while being, you know, together, that was probably true. Even though Harry sometimes didn’t have the time to write as detailed responses as his partner’s (who knew if his Uncle Vernon would decide to snoop through his things just to find out that his delinquent nephew was not only a wizard but, heaven forbid, a homosexual. Granted, Harry was bi, not gay, but it’s not like his bigoted family would ever care to know the difference), Draco would always send him lengthy accounts of his time away.

Draco’s letters consisted of retellings of the everyday life at the Malfoy Manor, whether it be the balls that he attended or the fascinating old books he found while perusing the ancient shelves of the manor library. Occasionally he would send Harry some wizarding treats or a book that he thought he would like, usually pertaining to defense spells or warding. Throughout the whole research-paper-long letter, Draco made sure to berate Harry’s decision to stay at the Dursleys’. Not that Harry detested him for it, it was quite the opposite, actually. It felt nice to know that his boyfriend cared about him, even if he showed it through half-hearted insults.

I don’t understand how you could still be this daft, Draco would write. After all of the quality time you spend with me, one would assume that you’d have taken a lesson in self-preservation. That is not the case, however. It seems that it is truly impossible to take the courageous self-sacrifice out of the Gryffindor.

He’d go on to write later, Although in this situation absolutely detest your asinine Gryffindorish tendencies, I not only love you despite them but because of them, you barmy git.

A boyish grin would always make its way to Harry’s lips whenever Draco said “the l-word” as he used to call it. Despite whatever Harry may claim out loud, he adored words of affirmation, especially from Draco, directly contradicting the cold, formal exterior he put on for the masses. In turn, Harry always made an effort to compliment Draco or tell Draco he loved him. Especially while cuddling, Harry liked to break out “the l-word,” just to see Draco get all flustered and grumbly before melting into Harry’s arms. They both sopped up all the hugs and cuddles they could get while they were alone, using the Room of Requirement they found at the beginning of second term to their full advantage. Apparently, touch-starved childhoods make for lots of cuddle sessions with your significant other later on.

The two were very open with each other. For Harry, it was a lot about the Tri-Wizard Tournament and his family, whereas Draco would vent not only about his family pressures but his father’s shady deals with Death Eaters he didn’t want anything to do with. He believed in the preservation of pureblood tradition, of course; he wasn’t going to leave behind centuries of information and culture. He didn’t think that mass genocide was the answer, no matter what garbage he spouted in their earlier years.

Draco trusted Harry with this information, information that could very well get him disowned and outcast, and Harry vice versa. This was why Harry was so worried when Draco wouldn’t tell him the details of his summer. Harry told Draco that he saw his father in the Department of Mysteries with the Dark Lord that night. That it was his fault that he was sent to Azkaban. Draco constantly reassured him that it wasn’t his fault, that it was his father’s actions that caused his own undoing, especially for attacking his boyfriend. He was hurt though. Harry could tell, and maybe it wasn’t anger towards him, but it would be hard not to feel some sort of emotion toward the imprisonment of the man who raised you. Even if they were disgustingly racist and cold to their own child.

Instead of Draco’s usual letters, Harry had been receiving short paragraphs about how the gardens look gorgeous this time of year, and that he wished he was there to see it. The letter was addressed to “Bambi” (after mentioning to Draco that that’s what Sirius and Remus would call him sometimes, he had a right laugh before kissing a sulking Harry on the cheek and telling him that it was adorable), and closing it with Best Regards, Dragon. Draco didn’t ever use pet names with Harry, that just wasn’t something he did. And while Harry would be the first to admit that he could be oblivious sometimes, it didn’t take long for him to piece together that Draco had reason to believe that something, or someone, would try to intercept and read their correspondence.

Yes, it was safe to say that Harry was worried. Very worried.

Harry couldn’t address his worry until next term. He didn’t want Draco to stop writing to him completely. If Harry knew anything at all about his boyfriend, it’s that he couldn’t force his feelings out of him. The minute anyone tried to get Draco to talk about something he’d rather not, he would shut them out completely. It happened at the beginning of fifth year when Harry tried to talk to him about Voldemort and what he and his family thought about the whole situation. Draco wouldn’t tell him anything and remained impassive the first time Harry asked, but as Harry kept asking, Draco pushed him farther and farther away. At first, Harry thought that it was because Draco didn’t believe him about Voldemort, but the sheer degree of avoidance was far too great for that to be Draco’s only reason.

The two almost broke up because of it, and Harry wouldn’t risk that again.

Finally, after the blood quill detentions became too extreme for Draco to not notice, he came clean. He came clean about his father’s alignment with the Dark Lord and his meddling in the Ministry, how the Minister had given Umbridge the go-ahead to hurt students and that he was complicit in the rise of Voldemort. He didn’t want Harry to think that he was anything like his father or that he subscribed to any of the views that his family or the Dark Lord pushed. It wasn’t just that, though. Draco had decided to blame himself for Harry’s abuse at the hands of Umbridge, that he could have stopped her from becoming a professor if he had just used his name and political clout. Harry reassured him time and time again after that it was never his fault and that it’s all the Ministry’s. It didn’t change Harry’s opinion of his partner. In fact, Harry had said, I could never blame you for such a thing. I love you too much to ever do that.

That was the first time Harry had ever said he “l-worded” Draco. That was also the first time Draco had ever cried in front of him.

As much as Harry feared for Draco, all he could do was wait.

***

Draco wouldn’t look at Harry. Not on the platform or the train. Not even during the feast in the Great Hall. Sure, their relationship wasn’t open knowledge, especially among Draco’s Slytherin companions and Harry’s Gryffindor friend group, but the two of them have always made time to see each other. Draco wasn’t just being curt with him, he was actively avoiding him.

Now, that would just not do.

Harry made it his mission to try to catch Draco’s eye while the students filed out of the hall. In his worried state, Harry forgot that Draco is a prefect and probably wouldn’t be able to see him tonight. He tried anyway, though.

After addressing the Slytherin first years, he looked to Harry who, with pleading eyes, mouthed, Meet me later.

It would have been invisible to anybody else, but Harry knew Draco’s body language like the back of his hand. Draco inclined his head slightly in agreement before turning on his heels to lead his younger years to their common room, his right hand fiddling with his cuticles, his sole nervous giveaway.

Harry made an excuse to Hermione and Ron about going to speak to Dumbledore to get away. Ron was too far into his food coma to protest, but Hermione, just as Harry knew Draco, could tell something was off with her best friend. She let him go, though, without any questions. She knew that if Harry wanted to share, he would.

Harry had never been more thankful for Hermione’s understanding than in that moment as he separated from his best friends and headed in the direction of the Room of Requirement.

***

When Harry and Draco had stumbled upon the Room of Requirement in their fourth year, they were in desperate need of alone time. With Harry being hounded by Hermione to prepare for the final task and with Draco’s building family troubles, their time together became a little escape from reality.

The Room of Requirement was a place where there were no Hogwarts houses or childish rivalries, no purebloods, or half-bloods, or muggle-borns. For the first time, there were no labels that stood in between them or expectations to uphold. There was no Malfoy and Potter. They were just Draco and Harry. Draco was more warm and loving than Malfoy, just as Harry was more open and cool-tempered than Potter. While Malfoy and Potter were like ice and fire, Draco and Harry were like water and sunlight, perfectly complimenting each other. The Room of Requirement always knows what its users need, and what Draco and Harry needed was a safe space.

So a safe space is what they got.

The room hadn’t changed since the first time they had used it, as if it had known what they’d need in the future, even before the boys had known they’d be together for nearly two years. The simplistic wood furniture and fully-stocked kitchen along with their leather sofa facing a roaring fireplace and queen-size bed in the corner were cozy and familiar. The two had spent many nights, weekends, and free periods in their little apartment, enough time to where they knew whose dent in the cushions was whose and whose socks belonged in whose drawer. For a couple of teenage boys, they were quite domestic. Harry, who always wanted a family and home of his own, loved every second of it, and, although he would never admit it, Draco loved it too. He loved to see Harry as in his element as he was when they were alone together. If Harry loved it, Draco loved it by default.

It felt odd for Harry to wait there on his own. More often than not, they would meet each other there after curfew, but because Harry tended to be chronically late to most functions, Draco was almost always there waiting for him. But not only that, it just didn’t feel the same without Draco there with him.

For such a small space, it felt suffocatingly large without his other half.

Harry waited for Draco to arrive for what felt like ages, bouncing his leg anxiously while sitting on the sofa. The second he heard the door open he sprung up to face it. There stood Draco, looking as dashing and closed-off as ever. Harry hadn’t seen that coldness in his eyes in quite some time, at least not within the walls of their room. He decided not to dwell on it, however, and proceeded to dart toward Draco with a renewed purpose, drawing him into a tight embrace.

Draco’s eyes widened with concealed panic ever so slightly, and Harry could feel him begin to tense in his arms. Before he could pull away, the shorter boy buried his head into the nape of Draco’s neck and clung onto his shirt for dear life, clenching the loose fabric tight in his fists.

“I missed you, you annoying git,” Harry grumbled with no bite.

Harry felt Draco soften in his arms at the words. He looked up at him, only to see his cold front melting into fear, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. “I missed you too, Haz,” Draco whispered, nearly inaudible. “So, so much.”

Something happened. Something very bad had happened. It was written all over Draco’s face, his body language, hell, even in his greeting. Harry was worried. Scratch that, he was absolutely fucking terrified for Draco. His confident, loving, stubborn Draco. Whatever had scared him enough to break him down into tears was enough for Harry. He almost didn’t want to know, but the look on Draco’s face made Harry want to burn all of London to the ground in revenge. The only feeling Harry felt for those who hurt his loved ones was untameable, unbridled rage. Whoever did this would pay.

But not then. That would all be in due time. At that moment, however, what Draco wanted, no needed, was a shoulder to cry on and a long cuddle session.

Harry could do that too.

32 notes · View notes

strawberriestyles · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read the prologue here.

Author’s note: YAYAY HERE WE GO IT ONLY TOOK ME HALF MY LIFETIME TO GET ENOUGH CHAPTERS STACKED UP!!! Please let me know what you think, and reblog!!!

The weather had warmed almost back to its usual summer temperatures. Melody felt like it was a sign. Harry was improving. Every day, even every minute, he was gaining something back. Just days ago he had cleared his throat and whispered something that Melody hadn’t been able to make out. It was a start.

She ran her thumb along the petal of a lily on the windowsill. Bea had sent them with her the day before. A sort of apology to Harry, she supposed, for her lack of kindness. But Bea hadn’t felt that it was appropriate for her to visit Harry, not yet. Not after the way she’d treated him since they met. And Melody couldn’t wait for them to right those wrongs, to see each other in the same light that she saw them.

“It’s beautiful out today,” Melody said as she turned toward Harry. “I wish it would stay.” She settled into her chair and wrapped her hand around Harry’s. “Do you want me to read?”

Harry squeezed a ‘yes' into her fingers, so she curled her legs up beneath her and pulled the book she’d been reading aloud from the table beside her. She’d started over the day after Harry had woken up, because despite what she’d wanted to believe, he hadn’t been able to hear her reading to him while he was unconscious. Or if he did hear her, he couldn’t remember it.

Melody flipped to her bookmarked page and licked her lips to begin the new chapter.

“Yeh changed your hair.”

Her arms jerked the book from her hands. It fell to the floor in front of her chair, cover bent back, as she sat forward again. Her eyes searched Harry’s face and settled on the sharp curve of his pleased smile. “You’re talking? You just talked.”

“I like it.”

Melody shook her head. Bea had dyed her hair for her, and had even re-dyed it since that first time. A shade darker than strawberry blonde, almost red, coppery.

“The first thing you wanna talk about is my hair?” she asked. Her voice was gentle. She didn’t really care what he wanted to talk about, she was just grateful that he was speaking at all. Even if it sounded like his vocal cords had spent years collecting dust in some abandoned attic. Like the air was being dragged over rough gravel.

“Well, it looks good.”

Melody pressed her palms to her face and took a shuddering breath. Harry’s face fell.

“Are yeh cryin’?”

Melody shook her head again and folded her hands in her lap. She let out a weak laugh. “No, I’m not crying. I could.” She stared at his curious face, now open and expectant like a child’s.

“Oh, God,” she muttered as realization dawned, finally climbing to her feet. “I need to get Dr. Florin.”

“No, she knows,” Harry said.

Melody paused, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve had some fancy speech doctor in here whenever yeh’re gone.”

She dropped back down into her chair and scratched at the cotton of Harry’s bedsheets. The only type of rehabilitation she had seen was the physician who came in once a day to test Harry’s movements, help him stretch out his limbs, begin rebuilding his weakened muscles. But they had been doing that stretching even when he wasn’t awake. It was nothing new to her.

“I don’t know whether I’m upset that no one informed me or if I’m just glad that you can talk back to me, now.”

“Can finally tell yeh to fuck off, right?”

Melody whipped her head upward, but Harry’s eyes were dancing, his lips twitching.

“That was a joke, Mel.”

She felt all of the muscles in her body coil and then relax. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed hearing her name on his lips, especially the shortened version.

“Mentioned your hair ‘cause it was the first thing I noticed,” Harry continued when she didn’t seem like she was amused by his attempt at a joke. “Have yeh also been…workin’ out?”

Melody did laugh at this. And to Harry’s horror, she also let out a stuttered sob. Tears dripped down her cheeks. She wiped at them quickly.

“Why’re yeh doin’ that?” he asked frantically. "What did I say?”

“No, no,” Melody rushed. “I just—” She slipped her fingers into her hair and rubbed at her overwhelmed head. “It’s been a while. For me. You’ve missed a lot. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Harry had taken the news of his coma surprisingly well. And he seemed to have no trouble believing that Colton had caused it. He didn’t even seem fazed when he heard that Colton still hadn’t been found, even seen. It was the time gap that seemed to cause him some trouble. Melody had watched the pulse on his monitor spike when he’d learned that nearly five months had passed. Five months. And Melody had yet to fill him in on what had happened in the meantime. Now that he could ask questions, she supposed it was time for those conversations.

Harry blinked lazily and then turned his eyes away from her. “Far as I knew, I went to sleep that Tuesday yeh saw me after trainin' and woke up here the next mornin’.”

“Jesus Christ,” Melody muttered. “Harry I could tell you I’m sorry a billion times over but I—”

“I don’ wanna talk about that. Let’s just say I forgave yeh, okay? Since Sean told me yeh basically moved in here.”

“Wait, did he know you were talking?”

“Yeah.”

“That dick.”

Harry chuckled, that deep rumble in his chest, and Melody thought she might cry again, so she worked herself through deep breaths.

“Yeh didn’ answer my question,” Harry said, perhaps to distract her. He didn’t want any more of the crying. He’d seen enough tears in the past couple of weeks, even if she tried to hide them, to blink them back. “Yeh’ve been workin’ out?”

“Yes,” Melody answered with a thin smile. “I can’t really see the difference.”

“There’s a difference,” Harry assured her. “Yeh look good.”

Melody felt herself blush like she was back in high school, like she hadn’t been in a relationship with Harry, like he hadn’t seen her completely naked on countless occasions. She pressed her fingers back to her heated cheeks. She wished that she could say the same about him, but Harry had grown thinner, paler. And even months of uninterrupted sleep couldn’t help how tired he looked. The skin around his eyes was sunken and bruised.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You keep complimenting me.”

Harry chewed at his lower lip. He didn’t tell her that it was because he felt bad for her, like he’d put her through the ringer. She wouldn’t appreciate his pity. In fact, it didn’t even make sense in his own mind. He was the one who’d been shot in the head. By someone he shared blood with, at that. He’d missed five months of his own life and of hers. But he kept thinking about if the roles had been reversed, if Melody had been the one in this bed, if he was the one sitting there waiting for her to wake up. It didn’t matter what kind of arguments they'd had, the idea was still painful. And he didn’t want that thought running through his head. So he was trying to alleviate some of the trouble she’d probably been going through, to sop up some of the pain and fear that seemed to have spilled.

“Can yeh show me your workouts, then? What is it? Hot yoga?”

“Shut up,” Melody laughed.

“No, ‘m serious. I’d love to see that. Probably have to strip down to just your—”

“Harry, shut up!” she shouted, leaning forward to clap a hand over his mouth. It was amazing to her, how quickly they could just fall back into step. Five months of worrying whether she’d ever get the chance to fix things between them, and it all seemed like a thing of the past in a single day.

“Yeh know,” Harry said as she peeled her hand away, “just started talkin’ to yeh today and yeh’re already tellin’ me to shut up. Tha’s not a good sign.”

“Yeah, well maybe if you weren’t trying to be cheeky.”

Harry let his eyes fall closed as Melody’s fingers brushed back hair from his forehead. Her touch was gentle and he felt her skim the shell of his ear, the side of his head where his hair was shorter than the rest, where they’d shaved it down to the scalp five months earlier so Dr. Florin could assess the damage the bullet had caused and try to patch it up as best she could. He wondered how terrible the scars there looked, if they were hideous or impressive. He hadn’t been able to get himself to look in a mirror.

“Thought yeh liked when I’m cheeky."

“Oh, thank God.” Melody and Harry both turned their heads toward the open door when they heard Vanessa’s voice. “I’ve been blowing up like a balloon about to pop not telling you, Melody.”

“Are you joking?” Melody demanded, sitting back. "Did everyone know? Why are we keeping me out of the loop?”

“Doc thought it’d be better if you didn’t have to watch him struggle with his speech. And that was the skill that she thought he’d recover fastest, so surprise!”

“I hate surprises,” Melody muttered.

“Well, I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Vanessa continued as though nothing had happened. “It’s that time again, Harry.”

He hummed, not pleasantly, Melody noticed. Vanessa didn’t seem to care whether he was annoyed or not. She went about her business all the same, checking his vitals, asking him innocent questions about how he was feeling. He replied only in grunts and short words.

“You know, Doc also said Melody might be able to take you for a walk out in the garden if you’re feeling up for it today. It’s very nice out.”

Harry perked up almost immediately. His entire demeanor toward Vanessa shifted. It was visible in his face, in the way that his fingers curled at his sides.

“Okay.” She chuckled and finished scribbling stats onto the clipboard she held. “Well, your vitals are good, too. I’ll get a chair and a couple of nurses in here.”

Vanessa didn’t notice as she left the room with a smile of her own, but Melody watched the way that Harry seemed to deflate. He stared blankly across the room, his lips set stonily. He had been out of bed a few times, had even tried standing with assistance, but no one could keep him on his feet for long. She knew how much it frustrated him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently. “Did you change your mind?”

“No.” Harry shook his head. Melody waited for him to speak again but he didn’t, and she didn’t press. Everything about this felt eerily familiar.

They waited for the nurses to bring Harry a wheelchair, him patiently and her not so much. She’d wanted to get him outdoors for days, had been begging Dr. Florin. She thought it would do him some good and she was grateful for the opportunity that the nice weather and Harry’s surprisingly good condition had provided. Anything that might lift his mood and make his recovery less dismal.

The nurses arrived. Stocky, broad men. Despite the physical withering that had eaten away at him, Harry still had a good amount of muscle. It just needed to get used to constant movement again. But he wasn’t light and Melody couldn’t move him, no matter how much working out she’d been doing.

The men waited while Melody slid a pair of stretchy hospital pants onto Harry’s limp legs. He didn’t want these strangers touching him. In fact, he didn’t seem to like many of the medical workers very much at all. Not even Dr. Florin. He did like his physical therapist, though—a short but fit man who reminded Melody a lot of Sean in the way he spoke and joked.

Melody waited then while the nurses unhooked Harry from his monitor and scooped him out of the bed, one on each side, arms under his thighs and around his back. They lowered him slowly into the wheelchair that they'd brought, arranging his legs for him, and then they left the room.

Melody watched Harry’s eyes avoid her throughout the entirety of the process. She didn’t mention it. She could only guess how he felt, having to be moved around and carried. She hoped that when he wanted to discuss it, if he wanted to discuss it, she wouldn’t need to pry. Maybe this new dynamic that they were discovering would make opening up easier for him. She hoped for the best.

Melody kicked the chair’s lock out of place and wheeled Harry straight out into the hall without another word.

***

Outside in the garden, it was even nicer than Melody had expected from looking out the window. She and Harry had walked around in circles for almost a half hour before he’d asked her to stop.

“Just wanna sit in the sun,” he’d said.

Now they were just sitting. Melody, actually, was sprawled out on the grass before him, her eyes closed against the light. Harry was watching her, the way her hair shone differently than it did when it was blonde, with an almost pinkish hue. Even her eyebrows were this new shade. He noticed a scar at the edge of her left brow where no hair was growing. He didn’t think he’d ever seen it before, but he wasn’t sure if it was just a glitch in his memory. Everything was so different and strange. He didn’t ask her about the scar. He just let her lay there and relax, even if he couldn’t. Watching her relax calmed him.

“Are you staring at me?” Melody asked. She cracked an eye open, fanning her fingers out over the dewy grass beneath her.

Another wheelchair rolled past them. It was a middle-aged woman pushing a younger child who might’ve been about eight years old. The boy was hooked up to an oxygen tank and he was hairless and pale, and Harry had never wanted to be somewhere else so badly in his entire life.

“When do I get the fuck outta here?” he asked when the boy was out of hearing range.

Melody pushed herself up into a sitting position and tilted her head at him. She took a deep breath. The air smelled sweetly of the flowers that had survived the city’s brutal and dry August. The summer was Melody’s favorite time of the year and she was disappointed that Harry had missed so much of it—all of it, really. It would be seven or eight months until the weather started to warm again, now that fall was beginning to arrive.

“It’s probably gonna be a couple more weeks.” Melody lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the afternoon sunlight. "They just wanna make sure you’re really okay. And I’m sure they’re gonna start working you back on your feet pretty soon, okay?”

“This shit sucks.”

Melody let out a breathy laugh and rose onto her knees in front of him, nodding. “That’s why I thought you’d like being out here.”

Harry glanced around again. He would have liked it a whole lot better if he could have walked himself around the winding paths instead of having Melody pushing him around. It was beautiful, though. All of the bushes were well pruned and the flowers were arranged into bright beds of color. He wanted to be laying in the grass with Melody.

“Are you hungry?” she asked him. “We could go back in and get some food from the cafeteria. It’ll be like a date.”

“A date?” he asked. “In a hospital? Tha’s a bit of a downgrade from an art exhibit, yeah?”

“The food’s better,” she said, and when she leaned forward to kiss him, Harry was caught too off-guard to do anything but sit there. But he felt the familiarity of her lips and smelled her perfume, a scent that he had memorized long ago, and it finally felt like there was something that he could hold onto from before everything that he was missing.

He blinked at her when she rose to her feet. She blinked back and mumbled a quiet “sorry” before rounding his chair to lead him inside. They didn’t talk about the kiss or what it might mean while they ate stir-fry and chocolate cake together, and Melody left with just a quick squeeze of Harry’s hand late that evening.

Chapter 2

#harry styles #harrys styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles x ofc #harry styles ferocity

92 notes · View notes

titaniumblender · 4 years

Text

Happy HK secret Santa @emmmmiru !!! I hope you don’t hate this lmao, I’ve discovered I really need prompts when writing christmas fics so I combined like several and I think it sort of worked??? Also plz excuse my ER/hospital knowledge it’s very outdated because my reference hasn’t worked in an ER for like years so I did my best lol. So, without further ado plz have Doctor Toshiro/Nurse Karin and mistletoe, for some reason I really just like RAN with the mistletoe thing!!

Karin was twitchy. She’d been waiting in the Starbuck’s line for a solid fifteen minutes before her order was finally taken. Now here she was, stuck waiting another ten minutes for the actual drink to be made. There were four people in front of her too.

Today was her first day at her new hospital. She was finally escaping the shadow of her brilliant family at Karakura General Hospital, KGH. Both her father and brother were well known and highly sought-after doctors. Ichigo, a renown neurosurgeon and Ishhin, probably one of the best ER doctors around, training a number of great pupils in emergency medicine. Even her own twin sister was well known, Yuzu was one of few dietitians in Karakura and a good one at that.

Karin herself was a damn good nurse and she knew it, but she got rather fed up with being known exclusively as Kurosaki Junior. Yuzu didn’t seem to mind the nickname as much, but of course Karin wasn’t as nice as Yuzu.

So, here she was, a town away at a brand-new hospital starting her first shift on Christmas Eve, just her luck.

And now her need for Starbucks and caffeine was going to make her late.

“Venti gingerbread latte for Karin.” The barista finally called out and Karin practically sprinted to the counter.

Quickly grabbing a lid and pushing it onto the cup Karin briskly turned around ready to get to the hospital ASAP. Only to run smack dab into someone, immediately spilling her precious gingerbread latte all over this nice someone’s crisp white dress shirt.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” She asked before looking up at the very attractive man she had spilled her hot drink all over.

He was probably one of the most attractive men she had ever seen with white hair, piercing blue eyes and a very attractive face. An attractive face that was decidedly unimpressed with situation as his white shirt dripped latte. He brought a hand up to his face, pinched his nose and muttered, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, Toshiro?” Karin asked, his unimpressed scowl triggering a memory of that very same face but much younger lecturing her about proper hospital etiquette.

“Karin?”

“Yes! How are you? It’s been so long; dad really misses you.” It was really her who missed him, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I’m doing just fine Karin, but I think I’d be much better if we could have this discussion when I don’t have coffee all over me.”

“Ahh right! Let me get you a paper towel, I’ll be right back.”

And then she disappeared quickly, trying her best to calm her heart rate.

Toshiro Hitsugaya had been one of her father’s most promising medical interns and Isshin had loved him so much he became part of the family. Did a young nursing intern, happen to find him very attractive? Yes. Did that same intern also happen to develop a huge crush and sulk for weeks when he finally left to pursue his career at a different hospital? Also, yes. But she still had her dignity dammit!

The current twenty-five-year-old Karin was not the same as twenty-one-year-old lovesick Karin, she would not be caught pining over Toshiro Hitsugaya. She was better than that.

Grabbing a wad of napkins, Karin returned to Toshiro and resisted the urge to dab at his well-muscled chest with them. Instead, she handed them to him before seeing the time. “Toshiro, this was great, but I really have to go, I’m late to my first shift!”

Toshiro had no chance to respond before the dark-haired beauty was gone and he was left still sopping wet with latte. Classic Kurosaki.

Karin barely managed to make pre-shift, sliding into the nurse’s station just as the charge nurse started giving everyone the basic rundown of how the shift would work.

Karin knew the brief layout of the hospital and how it worked from her few training shifts, but she wasn’t sure she was entirely ready to be thrown into a Christmas Eve shift just yet. Unfortunately, another nurse had come down with a nasty flu and Karin was forced to cover for her. Since Karin had never worked a Christmas or Christmas Eve shift before she had absolutely no idea what to expect.

She really hoped Christmas Eve wouldn’t be as insane as it was on Gray’s Anatomy.

After pre-shift ended Karin approached the charge nurse to let her know of her newbie status. She was a kind older woman named Yuki and Karin knew immediately she’d like her.

“Oh, don’t worry too much dear. Christmas Eve usually isn’t that busy, this is probably a good first shift for you to learn how we work here. But just to be safe I’m going to assign you to beds 6-12, they’re usually not as hectic as the trauma room. The doctor on tonight is also one of our best. I’m sure you’ll have no problems but if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask him. He’s very thorough in his work so I’m sure he’d be more than happy to help you learn the layout here.”

As Yuki finished speaking Karin spotted a messy head of silvery-white hair walking towards them and she quickly realized exactly who her ER doctor would be tonight. Just her luck.

“And speaking of, there he is. Karin, this is Dr. Hitsugaya and he’ll be the doctor in charge of the emergency room tonight.”

She could have kicked herself; she really should have put the pieces together. What was the likelihood she’d run into Toshiro at the coffee shop next to the hospital before her night shift randomly? Very slim.

“Hello again Karin.” He said with a small smirk, and she couldn’t help but notice the new green dress shirt he was wearing underneath his white coat brought out those piercing eyes of his. He was really so unfair.

“Toshiro.”

His eyebrow twitched; an annoyed reaction Karin was thrilled to evoke.

“Karin how many times do I have to tell you it’s Dr. Hitsugaya.”

“Oh, you two have already met then?” Yuki interrupted innocently.

Yes, yes, they had. She had an embarrassing schoolgirl crush on him, thought their weird sexual tension might lead somewhere only for him to leave after his residency never to be seen again. She was only a little bitter. But it was FINE.

“Yes, we used to work together at another hospital.” He smoothly replied and Karin was thankful he didn’t bring up her family and exactly which hospital they’d worked at. She didn’t want to be known as Kurosaki Junior again and he seemed to understand.

“Well, I hope we have a good shift Toshiro.”

His eyebrow twitched again, and she couldn’t help but feel pride at how she could drive him so crazy in such a short amount of time.

As it turned out Karin did have a pretty good shift with only a few hiccups. Thankfully, nothing too insane happened and as Yuki promised beds 6 to 12 were pretty relaxed. The most notable patient was a man who had smashed his hand through a fish tank.

Karin was forced to carefully tweeze out the glass while one half of his family yelled at him across the bed about his recklessness. From what she could gather the two sides of the family were arguing about some family recipe and it had led to an all-out brawl.

She was a little chagrined when the other half of the family arrived twenty minutes later with his cousin who had third degree burns from cooking said family recipe.

Overall Christmas Eve wasn’t that bad. Karin had learned about the hospital staff more than anything. Mostly that they were a bit crazy. At first Karin hadn’t immediately noticed the mistletoe pretty much EVERYWHERE in the hospital but the more she paid attention the worse it got. Every doorway, archway, hallway, and windowsill were covered in the plant. There was even some hanging off the light fixtures. She privately thought it was a terrible fire hazard but whatever.

After hours of encountering, it at every corner of the hospital during her shift she caved and asked what it was about on her lunch break. Matsumoto, an impressive veteran ER nurse whose only goal in life seemed to be to drive Toshiro insane, was more than happy to let her in on the hospital gossip.

Only for Karin to find out it was all over some ridiculous wager. Apparently, there was a longstanding bet in the hospital about who could catch a certain white-haired doctor under the mistletoe first.

In four years running, not one had ever been able to kiss him. Doctors, nurses, and X-ray techs alike had all tried their hand but to no avail. Not a single soul had ever gotten near him.

Karin couldn’t help feeling a little pleased about this. So, what if she still harboured a little crush on the man and was smug no one had snagged him yet? Who could blame her, he was hot.

It was widely believed Toshiro was some sort of ninja in his spare time because he’d never been spotted near the mistletoe which was an impressive feat seeing as how it covered every possible surface.

“So why does everyone want to kiss him so bad? Other than the bet of course?”

“Karin have you seen that man, who wouldn’t want to kiss a face like that?”

“Fair point.” She was willing to admit he was indeed a very fine specimen.

“So, who are you betting on this year Matsumoto?”

“You.” And with that ominous answer, Matsumoto winked, grabbed her empty tray and left the cafeteria.

Karin could only gape at her back.

The rest of her shift was just as relaxed as the beginning and for that Karin was thankful. Her mind was now completely filled with Matsumoto’s last words. What was she supposed to do with that? Why would she have a chance of winning that bet with Toshiro. Did Matsumoto know something she didn’t? Sure, they’d shared some heated looks at her old hospital and yeah, people usually told them to get a room whenever they argued but that didn’t mean he was interested in her right? She definitely would have known if Toshiro Hitsugaya, star ER doctor had a crush on her. Or would she?

It was these thoughts that occupied her mind as she put on her street clothes and exited the hospital for the night on complete autopilot. There was no way she could have missed her first love liking her back. No way. Or at least she really hoped not.

And it was these very same thoughts that caused her to make her way down the main stairs in a daze. As she turned onto the empty sidewalk right outside the hospital, she was so engrossed in her thoughts that she failed to notice the black ice covering the previously snowy sidewalk. She promptly slipped and fell onto the concrete and after that she really didn’t think of much at all.

Woozily looking up, Karin heard him muttering to himself, before her blurry vision became clear.

“Injured slipping on the sidewalk, trauma to the head, likely has a concussion.”

And then he looked up from her chart and finally noticed just who his patient was. “Karin, for fuck’s sake.”

“Hey Toshiro.” She awkwardly waved and after a moment added, “You know you have a terrible bedside manner.”

His eyebrow twitched, “It’s Dr. Hitsugaya.”

“Ya, Dr. Hitsugaya whatever, what’s my prognosis, can I go home? I want to go to bed.”

“Too bad. You’re not sleeping until I know your brain is fine or someone’s there to wake you up every two hours.”

Unfortunately, Karin’s list of people to monitor her for concussion symptoms was very short and consisted solely of Yuzu. Yuzu, who was also conveniently at her boyfriend’s for Christmas eve. Her brother and father were both working tonight and she was unsure when they’d be off. Toshiro seemed to sense this because he started to open his mouth, probably to suggest she stay at the hospital and she immediately cut him off.

“I am not staying at the hospital tonight so you can forget that.”

He gave her a withering look before responding.

“Karin, I can’t just release you and you know it. Stop being stubborn and just stay here.”

“No.”

There was a long-suffering sigh in response and then, “I guess it’s up to me to keep you entertained then.”

“Aren’t you the only ER doctor on right now? Don’t you have like other patients to deal with?” She asked defiantly, she would be going home to sleep even if it was the last thing she did. Which, it very well could be if her brain was seriously injured but she didn’t really want to worry about that.

His eyebrow began to twitch again at this. “Yes, Karin but they’re all in stable condition for now and contrary to popular belief we’re not usually that busy on Christmas. Besides my shift is almost over anyways. I was just going to go chart for the last half hour.”

“So, I can go to sleep then?”

“No, you can nap on the couch in my office and I’ll wake you up and take you to Ichigo’s. Rukia should be home if he isn’t.”

She almost argued back but then she saw the infamous unimpressed look on his handsome face and knew not to bother. This was not an argument she would win.

“Whatever.”

Karin was momentarily confused when instead of responding Toshiro left the room, practically sprinting through the archway to avoid the mistletoe. She eased herself off the bed to follow and quickly became aware which parts of her body had taken the brunt of her fall: mainly her butt and her head. What a great Christmas eve this was shaping up to be.

She managed to settle herself just as Toshiro appeared around the corner rolling a wheelchair. “Toshiro, no.”

“Karin, yes.”

This conversation repeated several times before Toshiro simply took it upon himself to forcefully shove her into the wheelchair and Karin found herself being awkwardly wheeled down the hallway. Today was definitely not her day. She supposed having one of the most attractive doctors in the hospital dote on you wasn’t the worst thing to happen.

Toshiro’s office was exactly what she expected it to be like, overly organized and painted in different shades of grey and blue. He brought the wheelchair to a stop next to his predictably grey but very comfortable looking couch. He moved to help her to the couch, but she waved him off.

“I’ll be back I just have to go collect some paperwork. Take a nap and I’ll wake you when it’s time to leave.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, she had already maneuvered herself onto the plush couch and was ready to conk off. The last thing she saw before her eyes closed was his scowling face as he ripped a sprig of mistletoe out of the doorjamb.

She woke next to blaring hospital lights as she was once again wheeled down the hallway, this time towards the parking garage. “Do I want to know how you got me back into this wheelchair without waking me up?”

“With great difficulty Kurosaki and that’s all you need to know.”

“Yeah, I definitely don’t want to know. So, there’s no way I can convince you to just drop me off at my apartment, right?”

“Not unless I stay the night Karin and to be honest me sleeping on the couch in that situation is not how I had imagined that would play out.”

Was that flirting? That was definitely flirting but she wasn’t going to call him out on it. She didn’t have the presence of mind to verbally spar with him right now. But clearly her sleep deprived brain had other ideas.

“So, tell me Toshiro who do you think is going to win the hospital mistletoe bet this year?”

Why did she bring that up????

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replied easily as they arrived at his black BMW.

“Yes, you do, and quite frankly I’m impressed I’ve never seen someone literally somersault away from a group of nurses.”

He groaned as he courteously opened her door before helping her inside his of course perfectly clean car.

“Karin it’s not funny, it’s gotten to the point where I dread the Christmas season. I considered an extended leave of absence for the whole month of December.” His face as he started the car told he was 100% serious.

“Why don’t you just kiss someone then?” She asked as he started the car, making his way towards her brother’s apartment. His unenthusiastic grunt was her only response.

“You could even rig the betting pool; I’d bet Matsumoto would help you and you would make bank.”

“Of course, you’d suggest something like that Kurosaki.”

“Yeah, just so long as I’m in on it, I want a piece of the cut.”

This time she got an amused look in response instead of annoyance.

“No but for real just pick a cute nurse, give her a smooch and it’s all over. Four Decembers is a long time to deal with this.” Somehow, she managed to refrain from suggesting she herself be this cute nurse, but she was sure if he really wanted, he could figure it out.

“They usually start in November.”

“Even worse.”

The rest of the ride was spent in their usual amicable silence. A few times Karin almost nodded off but was pleasantly awoken by a swift smack in the arm each time. Stupid doctor Toshiro.

They arrived at her brother’s apartment soon enough and she nearly had to fight Toshiro so he wouldn’t go inside and apprise Rukia of the whole situation. “I may be tired but I’m not tired enough not to let Rukia know I probably have a concussion.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyways thanks for taking care of me, I owe you a favour.” She said as she dragged herself out of the warm car and around towards the building entrance. She was about to give one more wave when the driver’s side window rolled down and Toshiro beckoned her over.

“Can I collect on my favour now?”

She gave him what she was sure was a very confused look, what could he possibly want from concussion Karin at 4 am on Christmas morning?

She bent down closer to the window to ask him what the hell he could possibly want from her when suddenly her sleepy brain was made aware of the fact that Toshiro Hitsugaya was suddenly holding something above her head, and it was mistletoe. Her eyes went back and forth between him and the plant for several seconds before she finally spoke.

“Really this is your big move. I’ve been waiting for this since I was 21 stupid.”

“Whatever Kurosaki are you going to put me out of my misery or do I have to spend the next 4 Decembers avoiding this stupid plant again.”

He looked entirely too pleased with himself but really Karin could deal with it if she got to kiss one of the hottest ER doctors. Who could complain?

The next morning Matsumoto won the betting pool and was seen discreetly sharing her earnings with a certain white-haired doctor and his new girlfriend in the break room a few days later.

#hitsukarin secret santa #:)#HitsuKarin

7 notes · View notes

crystalessenceswrites · 4 years

Text

You’re Enchanting -- Chapter Six

Been sitting on this lovely commission from @strzygon-x of Delphine and Elazar, felt it fit perfectly with the chapter so I just had to share it.

Pairings: Cullen/Trevelyan & Dorian/Lavellan

Warnings: mentions of blood in this chapter (2 mentions, nothing graphic, just plot points) and some canon typical templar violence towards mages (just fair warning in case the dynamic is uncomfy)

Can also be read on AO3

[Masterlist] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven]

Chapter Six- Ghost

War room meetings tended to leave Delphine feeling significantly more downtrodden than she was beforehand. There did not seem to be much good news to go around these days. Reports of rifts continued to flow in along with rising tolls between the templars and the apostates in the valley and elsewhere. Elazar had returned from the Hinterlands with the Inquisition’s new horse master but his arrival was overshadowed by the introduction of one Warden Blackwall, who did not come bearing any helpful information. He was just as unaware to the status of the Grey Wardens as the rest of them. It was all rather disconcerting. Del could tell Elazar was struggling to remain optimistic as they departed the chapel. She hoped Varric wasn’t busy tonight, El was in serious need of a strong drink at the bar and some outlandish stories to keep his mind off this newfound responsibility for a bit.

“Excuse me!” The pair stopped rather abruptly, not at all expecting the soldier loitering at the doorway to address them. They both looked to the man, wide eyed. “I’ve got a message for the Inquisition but I’m having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me.”

Del was surprised one of Leliana’s agents hadn’t spoken with him yet, normally they were on top of situations like these.

El titled his head to the side, taking a rather obvious curiosity in the man, “who are you?”

“Cremisius Aclassi, with the Bull’s Chargers mercenary company. We mostly work out of Orlais and Nevarra.”

The merc had quiet the name, definitely not Orlesian or Ferelden.

“We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If you’d like to see what the Bull’s Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work.”

A mercenary company? Was the Inquisition looking to hire more muscle right now? Del couldn’t remember Cullen expressing a need for more troops in any of the recent meetings. Did the more the merrier apply in situations like these?

El beat Del to all the questions though, “why did your commander send us this information?”

“Iron Bull wants to work for Inquisition. He thinks you’re doing good work.”

That wasn’t exactly the answer the either of them had been expecting. El did look pleased though. Maybe this day wouldn’t be all bad.

“We’ll consider your offer.”

“I appreciate it. We’re the best you’ll find. Come to the Storm Coast and you can see us in action.”

As many questions as Delphine had on the situation, she had no real desire to go to the Storm Coast and find the answers. El didn’t give her much of a choice in the matter, informing the advisors of their departure promptly after speaking with Cremisius. She was going to have to find some way to get back at the elf because the whole trip had gone from bad to worse. It was one thing to be soaked to the bone from the constant rain, but now she was coated in Tevinter mercenary blood after their party had joined in with the attack on the Vints. El and Varric looked more than pleased with her displeasure.

“Fuck you.” Del spat at Elazar, “I’m never letting you drag me out to this Maker forsaken place again.”

El laughed at her as the Qunari merc captain approached with Cremisius.

“Krem! How’d we do?”

“Five or six wounded, Chief. No dead.”

The one-eyed Qunari grins, “that’s what I like to hear. Let the throat cutters finish up, then break out the casks.” He turns to the pair, taking a quick moment to take in their sopping forms. “So, you’re with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming.”

El grinned back at the Qunari, “Iron Bull, I presume.”

“Yeah the horns usually give it away.”

Well, it was a rather apt name, considering.

“I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant.”

The mercenary lieutenant gives them a nod and a short smile in greeting, “good to see you again. Throat cutters are done, Chief.”

“Already?” The Qunari looked out over the beach scattered with bodies with suspicion, “have ‘em check again. I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem.”

Krem rolls his eyes, much to El’s delight. “None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?”

Iron Bull barks out a laugh as Krem returns to directing the other mercenaries. El’s obviously amused at the odd comradery between the two; if he wasn’t sold on the Chargers before Del could assume he was now.

“So… you’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it… and I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

Del quirked an eyebrow at that. They weren’t exactly rolling in it back at Haven.

“How much is this going to cost me exactly?”

Elazar had been slowly coming into his position – what that position was, neither of them exactly knew but- he was more confident of himself, in the war room and in the field, more willing to make decisions. Del was proud, El had always drawn people to him, their friends had looked to him when the rebellion grew, after all. Yet he never assumed he deserved to be the one making decisions. Ever humble in that regard, he argued with Del whenever she dared to say otherwise. Now the reluctance seemed to be slowly slipping away.

“It won’t cost you anything personally; unless you wanna buy drinks later.”

Oh, they definitely didn’t have enough coin for that.

“Your Ambassador- what’s her name- Josephine? We’d go through her and get payments set up. The gold will take care of itself. Don’t worry about that. All that matters is we’re worth it.”

Iron Bull was sure of his company and their prowess.

“The Chargers seem like an excellent company.”

Del knew for a fact El had no idea what made a good mercenary company- neither of them did.

“They are. But you’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard. I’m you’re man. Whatever it is- demons, dragons? The bigger the better. And there’s one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off. Ever heard of the Ben-Hassrath?”

Delphine, like most folks in southern Thedas, knew next to nothing about the Qunari. What she did know was, she could safely assume was mostly propaganda and stupidly exaggerated rumors. She’d never heard of any groups within the Qunari, definitely not the Ben-Hassrath. The Qunari, the Qun, that wasn’t something she’d ever discussed with Elazar. It certainly wasn’t a topic that came up in the Circle. The wide-eyed look El gave her led her to believe the Dalish didn’t know much more than the rest of them. “We’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a Qunari order. They handle information, loyalty, security, all of it. Spies, basically. Or, well, we’re spies.”

He’s a spy and was just telling them? Why was he working as a mercenary in the south if he’s a spy? Wouldn’t he be more effective elsewhere? Del’s mind was swimming with the implications.

“The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I��ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what’s happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I’ll share them with your people.”

That sounded right up Leliana’s alley but was a spy a trustworthy source of information?

Elazar’s wide eyes were telltale enough of his own surprise. “You’re a Qunari spy, and you just… told us?”

Iron Bull shrugs, “whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it’s bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So, whatever I am, I’m on your side.”

Was he though?

“You still could have hidden what you are.” It wasn’t like they would have known any better. She and Elazar had no idea the Ben-Hassrath even existed before today.

“From something called the Inquisition?” Iron Bull chuckles, “I’d’ve been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me.”

“So…what would you send home in these reports of yours?”

“Enough to keep my superiors happy. Nothing that’ll compromise your operations. The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart. You let me send word of what you’re doing, it’ll put some minds at ease. That’s good for everyone.”

Del wasn’t fond of the idea of any information making it back to the Qunari- especially anything about Elazar. If there was any kernel of truth to what she’d heard about how the Qunari treat their mages, she was terrified to think of what they’d do if they knew more about Elazar’s “condition.” Though if Iron Bull was telling the truth, and this kept an invasion at bay, wasn’t that a risk worth taking?

“What’s in these Ben-Hassrath reports you’re offering to share?”

“Enemy movements, suspicious activity, intriguing gossip. It’s a bit of everything. Alone, they’re not much. But if your spymaster is worth a damn, she’ll put ‘em to good use.”

“She?”

“I did a little research.”

Del wondered what exactly qualified as a “little” research.

“Plus I’ve always had a weakness for red heads”

Elazar snickered, proving that even when faced with a Qunari spy he still had the humor of a teenage boy. If El was one thing he was at least consistent. A swift elbow to the gut from Del was enough to get the elf back on track.

“You would run your reports past Leliana before sending them. You send nothing she doesn’t approve. If this turns out to be a trick, Cassandra will eat you alive.”

That’s an understatement.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” The grin splitting across his face made Del believe him. “Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!”

Krem pouts as the Qunari’s voice cuts across the beach, “what about the casks, Chief? We just opened them up. With axes.”

“Find some way to seal them. You’re Tevinter, right? Try blood magic.”

Krem threw his arms up, though his frustration was more for show than anything, it seemed.

Elazar was going to be fond of this group for sure.

“How’s it going Krem de la crème?”

The merc lieutenant rolled his eyes, not even bothering to turn and greet the Qunari as he approached. “I’m so glad he has more people to hit with that joke now.”

“Are you telling me Tiny can’t come up with new material?” Varric scoffs, “I had higher hopes for him.”

Krem quirked an eyebrow, “Tiny?”

The hulking Qunari warrior was anything but small, seemed a rather backwards nickname.

“He’s already got a nickname?” El sounded rather insulted at the realization.

“Dwarf calling a Qunari tiny, that’s rich.” Iron Bull grumbles, single-eyed glare pointed at Varric.

“Some just come easier, Herald.” The author shrugs at El who is not satisfied with Varric’s obvious dodge.

“Nicknames, is that his thing?”

Del wasn’t sure. Varric was usually out traveling with Elazar so she hadn’t spoken with him nearly as much El. She had noticed the dwarf only referred to Cassandra as Seeker, but she figured it was a way of bothering her, considering Cassandra rolled her eyes nearly every time he did it.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Krem.”

“Oh, has the Herald not shared yours with you yet?” The shit eating grin plastered across Varric’s face leads Del to the conclusion she doesn’t want to know. Whatever names Varric and El were coming up with when she wasn’t around, she didn’t want to know.

“Del works just fine, I’ll stick with that.”

“That’s no fun.” Iron Bull chides, “lay it on us, dwarf.”

“Ghostie.”

“Ghostie?” Varric thought of her as a ghost? Or had she become sickeningly pale again without realizing it?

Iron Bull rubs his chin for a moment, his eye trained on Del. She fights the urge to fidget under his stare. “I see where you’re coming from with that.”

El snickers. Del has to restrain herself from zapping him.

“Right?” Varric puffs his chest out, “all in the details.”

“What details?”

“Well, you’re quiet, avoid attention. You’ve obviously mastered fading into the background, and best of all, I’ve seen you sneak up on and startle not just Seeker but Leliana too.”

“Those were on accident!” Leliana was the last person in Haven she would want to shock on purpose.

“Even better! Naturally as quiet as a ghost.”

This wouldn’t be going away anytime soon.

If he’d already come up with one for her, Varric must have decided on Elazar’s by now. “So, what’s El’s then?”

“Apparently I’m not nickname worthy.” El pouts, putting on his best kicked puppy face.

“Oh, that’s borderline manipulative, Herald.” Varric chuckles, not at all fazed by the elf’s big doe eyes. “You just gotta wait for it to develop naturally. Some just take time.”

“No need to look glum, boss,” Iron Bull smacks Elazar in the back, nearly knocking him out of his seat, “embrace the air of mystery!”

Elazar? Mysterious? Delphine had never known Elazar as anything but straightforward, occasionally unwilling to talk about his emotions, yes, but never untruthful or purposefully shady.

Del rolled her eyes as the group descended into bickering. Despite being mercenaries Bull’s Chargers were all easy enough to get along with. Delphine could have never imagined they would be camping out, drinking and laughing with a merc band, yet here they sat, Elazar truly smiling and carrying on with hired blades.

“You’ll give yourself wrinkles if you keep worrying over him so much.”

For such a large warrior, Iron Bull managed to move rather quietly, sneaking up at Del’s side at the edge of the group.

“The life we’ve lived up till now made it a strong habit.” That and El’s sometimes flippant attitude towards authority.

“Constantly looking over your shoulder in the Circle.” Delphine hadn’t mentioned it, and El avoided the topic when possible, but Iron Bull had proved to be more than observant in the few days they’d traveled together.

They’d both been looking over their shoulders most of their lives, for varying reasons, and that shapes a child. “For both our sakes.”

Iron Bull nods, “especially for the sake of the rebel.”

There was no way he’s just a spy.

“He’s always had a penchant for trouble.”

“And you’re the one to get him out of it.”

“When I can.” Del could talk their way out of pranks and whatever general ruckus El caused in the Circle. But Del didn’t have any weight to throw around now; she couldn’t just bat her eyelashes and get the night patrol to look the other way now.

“You don’t share his penchant for rebellion, but you’re dedicated and stick around anyways.” It almost sounded like admiration Del heard in his voice. “He’s lucky to have you looking out for him.”

Although it wasn’t something she would admit out loud, Del was almost proud of the fact she’d kept him out of trouble all these years. Mostly. Nothing she said would have changed Elazar’s mind once he started planning his rebellion. There was no way to talk him out of that trouble with the Knight-Commander.

“How did you know I didn’t rebel with him?” Here she was, living the life of an apostate, same as El. They’d ended up lumped together despite their differing opinions.

Iron Bull chuckles, a gravelly sound deep in his chest that nearly startles Del. “As if the dwarfs nickname wasn’t clue enough? The fact that you’re alive and not dead at the Conclave tells me you weren’t sympathetic to the rebellion.”

Not sympathetic? Del can feel a dark expression slip into place. “Just because I didn’t rebel doesn’t mean I’m not sympathetic to their cause. I know where they are coming from, I’ve felt many of the same hurts, I long for change and freedom just as much.”

The Qunari looks surprised at her candid admission and sharp tongue. At least she was able to prove him wrong on one point of his profile.

“So, too prim and proper to join a rebellion?”

Del rolls her eyes, she’d joined the Inquisition, that alone should have proved she was not worried about such things. Or, at least she wasn’t now. “You know that’s not it.”

“Then what motivates you, little lady. Or in this case, doesn’t.”

She almost prefers Ghostie to little lady.

“I have…differing views on violence than the rest of the rebels…”

That lie was so weak it wouldn’t have convinced Cullen. Iron Bull scoffs, “violence against templars, you mean.”

Del gapes at the Qunari- incredibly perceptive for someone with one eye.

“You’re torn- you contradict yourself- makes it obvious enough.”

“I… as much as I hate what was done to us… what we went through… I just don’t have the same hate towards templars that El and the others do, because then I’d have to hate some people very important to me. And I can’t…I just can’t.” Not when Ralf was the one person to always protect her.

He’s solemn for a long moment. Del wonders if he has any sympathy for mages, after all the Circles must be significantly better than whatever the Qunari mages had. Yet, there was Dalish, who despite all her instance on being an archer, was living openly as an apostate within the band and Iron Bull had no apparent issues with it.

“Just because you hate the system doesn’t mean you have to abhor each individual in it… it’s too much work to hate them individually anyways.”

The system. It sounded like Iron Bull spoke from experience.

Elazar wasn’t going to be the only one fond of this group.

Upon their return to Haven Delphine decided she much preferred the chill of the mountain air over the bone soaking cold of the Storm Coast- she’d made it abundantly clear that she would not be returning to the region with him again. No matter the business. El had rolled his eyes but agreed anyways, promising to not bring her along should they venture back to the coast. Del thanked the Maker before making a beeline for their shared cabin, all she wanted was a war bath and a warm bed. It was so closed now. She’d leave the war council to El for today.

Instead of finding Del soaking the chill from her bones, Elazar returned to find her curled up next to the hearth of the fireplace poring over a large leather-bound tome, two more study volumes spread across the floor next to her. It reminded him so clearly of the young girl he’d stumbled across in the Circle library all those years ago, stormy green eyes consuming the contents of library as if her life depended on it.

Nabbing a blanket from his cot, El silently settles on the floor next to her, throwing the blanket over their shoulders. He knows once she’s absorbed in her reading, Del will forget or forgo taking care of herself. The blanket breaks her concentration, grinning she leans over, bumping shoulders, and whispering her thanks.

“What’d you find, Del.”

“Someone left these on my bed, nothing but my name on the note. A proper surprise.”

El hadn’t heard excitement like this in her voice in years, it warmed his heart to see the curious spark in her eyes she’d had back from when they were both still apprentices. “They’re all on combat magic, El, spells, theory, practical technique. They’ve got everything!”

He can’t help but grin back, “never thought I’d see the day Delphine Trevelyan gets excited over banned literature.”

“Oh hush, is it really banned when there’s no Circles left to ban it?”

“Sneaking by on a technicality, Del.” He chuckles, “who left them for you?”

She shakes her head, “I told you, total surprise. I have no idea. I didn’t ask anyone for them either.”

Curious, “who knows you’re studying combat magic.”

“Well, I’ve talked about it with Josephine and Vivienne a few times over tea. Cullen and I talked about it when he asked for help training the recruits… maybe his lieutenants, Joshua, once.”

That seemed about right, he knew she’d kept her practice so herself, acted as if she was more confident in her abilities than she was. Del was a decent enough actress to have most folks fooled.

“Josie or Vivienne would have left a note though or given it to me in person, telling me all about where they managed to find it and how rare the print is. They’re not the type for surprises like this.”

“True,” El nods, “Vivienne would probably talk your ear off about it.”

Del rolls her eyes, “probably… but I don’t know why Cullen or Joshua would get them for me. Joshua and I are friendly but not that close.”

“Cullen does seem like the type to be too shy to leave a note with them.”

Her eyes go wide, “you think so? But why would he, off all people, be getting me books on combat magic?”

True, why would a templar willingly supply a mage with books on combat magic? This was giving Del everything the Order had worked to deny her all these years.

“I’m sure Leliana knows, though. I’ll ask her about it tomorrow.”

Del smiles, settling in so her head is resting on his shoulder, “thanks, El.”

“You’re looking much more comfortable out there.”

Delphine tries to mask the surprise that washed over her with the sudden compliment. Although Cullen always thanked her for her help, comments on her magic were few and far between.

“Well the recruits seem to be catching on quick- makes my job a bit easier.” It was easier to focus on her execution when she knew the recruits were able to as least defend themselves from her standard attacks. She’d also gotten enough “practice” in after the trip to the Storm Coast to begin working on refining her casting, something she was rather proud of.

Cullen nods “it’s reassuring to see the progression.”

He deserved to be proud, Cullen was turning farmers and pilgrims into a formidable military force with very minimal support. Del had overheard Iron Bull dishing out compliments on the former templar to Elazar recently as well, which she was sure were well earned.

“I was wondering if you could spare someone to spar with me a short while. I’ve been reading up on some new techniques I’d like to practice.” She was trying to be nonchalant about it, but it was so difficult once Leliana had confirmed Elazar’s suspicions.

Cullen clears his throat, glancing away from her rather hurriedly. “I believe I can spare Ser Rosche for the time being.”

He calls the soldier over as Del gathers up her staff. She didn’t recognize the man, though she could hardly claim to be familiar with most of Cullen’s troops. Rosche’s face was set with deep lines and a furrowed brow- an expression that rang familiar. His armor confirmed it, despite wearing the trappings of the Inquisition, the man’s chest plate still bore the emblem of the Order. He must have been one of the templars to leave the Order with Cullen after Kirkwall, Del figured.

Rosche nods as Cullen finishes explaining the task, the grim expression never changing. He pointedly looks her up and down as Cullen introduced her.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Cullen shot her a small smile as he returned to his post scrutinizing the recruits as they continued to drill in formation.

The templar before her didn’t utter a word before falling into a defensive stance, his stare directed at the staff clutched in her hands.

Well then, down to business.

Delphine plants herself, reaching into the Veil around them, slowing her breathing as she channels that swirling energy through her staff. Rosche easily blocks the flames she summons- a testament to his training no doubt- before beginning to push forward.

An aggressor. He must prefer the blade to the shield. Del aims low, hoping to slow him momentarily while she casts a simplified chain lighting attach. Nothing strong enough to do any real harm, just a stun spell really. The jolt of electricity does little to slow Rosche’s advance, however. Sword drawn, he lunges, Del sidesteps and counters setting an ice mine between them. That proves enough to get the man to jump back, putting a more comfortable amount of space between them.

Del’s blood roars in her ears. This man was not one to go easy on her. Eyes narrowed; his gaze never leaves her. Del tries to match his stare but she’s well aware she’s less than intimidating.

Slowly, he begins to circle again, Del tries to keep the mine in between, to delay any more lunges but Rosche has already taken the lead in the fight, something Del was hoping to avoid. She needed to learn to take control in fights, to maintain the upper-hand against her opponents.

She tries to regain control but Rosche continues to hold the lead. He blocks everything she throws at him, even a fireball sent hurling at him full strength, all while he steadily inches closer. The air crackles around her as Del focuses a lighting spell on the blade of her staff, swingling wide at the templar. He parries her blade with ease, the spell quickly dissipating.

Del staggers back as she realizes he’s been dispelling her magic; no wonder her fireball didn’t even faze him. A shiver runs down her spine as a grin breaks out across his face, vaguely manic. It takes near all her will to tamp down the panic clutching at her chest.

“Is that the best you can do, little mage?”

Del barely manages to block his blade as he rushes forward, taunting grin still painted across his features. She throws up a barrier in response, giving her enough time and space to throw a few shots towards his head and shoulders. It’s quick enough he has to duck out of the way instead of block and dispel. Her pride is short lived as he regroups and presses up against her barrier.

Rosche’s grin has disappeared, lips set into a snarl as he shoves against the barrier again. Del is thrown back as it snaps, air rushing from her lungs as her back meets hard packed ground. Panic washes over her as the man stalks towards her, sword still held high. She casts on instinct, feeling the fire flow through her like it did when she first came into her magic, throwing as much heat at her attacker as she can. The flames never leave her hands.

Del cries out as an invisible weight forces down against her chest and her magic explodes against her palms. Her magic has never rebounded before- at least not of her own volition.

Desperate she reaches out again, chest heaving, for the Veil only to realize she can’t find it. Its as if the world around her had suddenly gone silent. The constant hum of energy around her gone.

“No-” her voice croaks at the realization the man looming above her now is suppressing her magic, keeping her from defending herself.

“Yes,” he sneers down at her, eyes cold.

Staff. She needs her staff. Her fingers graze of the shaft for a brief moment before its gone. Still struggling to catch her breath, Del watches as Rosche kicks it away.

He’s still looming over her, taunting her, as she struggles. Every time she reaches back out for the Veil he pushes back twice as hard, pushing her further and further from her magic. Del’s head is spinning as she stares up at him, wide eyed. She didn’t know magic suppression could physically hurt.

“Too bad, little mage.”

Del doesn’t remember how to move as he raises his sword to strike.

This wasn’t a sparring match.

“Chargers!”

The world around them springs into action as Iron Bull’s voice cuts through the roaring in Delphine’s ears. Something explodes above her, near Rosche’s shoulder, throwing him back. Bull and Krem rush by in her peripheral, weapons drawn. A crowd of Chargers quickly follows after.

Their elven mage, Dalish, suddenly appears above her, worry etched across her brow. “You alright?” Del can vaguely make out the feeling of Dalish’s fingers ghosting over her, checking for injuries. She can’t even find it in her to nod back until Del finds her breath.

“Hit…hit my head.”

“Aye you did.” Dalish chuckles a bit but the mirth doesn’t reach her eyes, “we saw you go flying.”

Well that explained the pounding.

The elven woman’s hands continue to investigate, poking and prodding across her torso. “Well, doesn’t look like anythin’s broken.”

Del coughs out a sorry excuse for a chuckle in response.

“Oh, that’s going to take more than elfroot.” Dalish hisses, slowly taking Del’s hands in her own.

The burning rushes in all at once, across her palms and fingertips. She must have roasted her own hands when Rosche caused her magic to rebound. Fuck.

“Let’s get you up, yeah?”

With a few curses between the two of them Dalish helps Del to her feet, a hand at her back keeping her steady as the world swayed around her.

A few yards off Iron Bull stood over Rosche, disarmed and face down in the dirt, one of the Qunari mercenary’s boots pressed into the man’s back. Krem and the others stood by, faces dower as Cullen stalked towards them, fuming.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Del groaned as the Commander’s shouting mixed with the pounding against her skull.

“He attacked Delphine, ser.” Krem answered, face stern and hands on his hips.

Del didn’t think Cullen’s scowl could get any deeper but she was quickly proven wrong. “They were sparring!”

“He wasn’t.” Bull’s voice was level as he stared down the blond. “He had her cornered and disarmed but ready to land a deadly blow.”

Cullen’s eyebrows shot up as he looked her way. She must have looked a mess, covered in dirt and melting snow, hands bloody and burned. Messy strands of hair fell in her face, Del figured her braid must have come undone upon impact. She didn’t care much to check; she was still barely holding herself upright with Dalish’s help.

“He was suppressing her magic, Commander-” Bull continued, voice dark- “she was down.”

Cullen’s expression darkened; his hard gaze pinned on the downed templar. “What is the meaning of this Rosche?”

“What’s all the fuss?” He spat, still struggling against Bull’s boot. “It’s just a mage!”

Delphine’s heart stopped. She wasn’t even a person to this man. He had meant to hurt her this way.

“Just a mage?” Cullen seethed.

Cullen could be riled up from time to time in meetings, he could be stern with the soldiers, and there had been moments when Del could see the anger swirling behind his eyes but he never appeared to act on it. Not as long as she’d known him. He stood, shoulders squared, one hand clenched around the hilt of his sword as if he meant to draw it against the disarmed man. If looks could kill Rosche would be long dead.

“Bull, please escort ser Rosche to the cells. I’ll need to inform the Herald and the others of what has happened.”

“Sounds good, Boss.”

Elazar.

“No!” Del’s knees crumple as she tries to rush forward. Dalish manages to catch her before she falls, hauling her back to her feet.

All eyes turn to Delphine.

“Don’t tell Elazar, Cullen, please.”

If Cullen was the one to deliver the news to Elazar, Del knew he would bite Cullen’s head off. El was still upset with Cullen over his comments about the rebellion and the templars, even after finding out Cullen had been the one to gift her with the books. He was never the kind to hold grudges but this, this was going to piss him off and if Cullen delivered the news, El would be sure to place the blame solely on him.

“The Herald needs to know, Delphine.” Cullen’s voice softened a bit but the deep frown did not seem to be disappearing anytime soon.

Elazar would know. There was no way with how small Haven was Elazar wouldn’t know soon, but none of this would end well if he heard it from Cullen’s mouth.

“Dalish, Stiches, take Delphine to Adan.” Iron Bull cuts in, voice booming over growing crowd. “Krem will go find the Herald, bring him to her. Cullen can inform Red and Josephine of what’s happened.”

Thank the Maker for the eagle eyed Qunari. Even in his short time with the Inquisition he already had a solid handle on the dynamics here.

Dalish wraps an arm around Del’s waist, supporting most of her weight. “Got it, Boss.”

Cullen doesn’t look particularly pleased but agrees with the Qunari.

Rosche groans and curses as Bull pressed down on his back. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Del doesn’t doubt it.

12 notes · View notes