#and i find it more endearing every day GOD DAMMIT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

binunus · 4 years ago

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afk | yoon sanha (m)

a/n y..oon...sanha...really do be acting up...also idk why but whenever I think of husband!sanha I can’t seem to write anything which is why I’ve been staring at this request literally for the longest time, but when I think of like just bf!sanha I get so many ideas...is it me? am I just weird?? maybe it’s bc I’m literally not in a headspace to think about marriage or commitment sksksk but uh yeah thank you for coming to my ted talk

{request: anther sanha husband smut please? 🥺 the one u wrote was so good ‘m not a creative person so the plot coulld be as you wish 😼}

→ pairing: idol bf!sanha x f!reader

→ genre: fluff, smut

→ tw: unprotected sex (conceal before you feel loves), reader riding sanha as he’s playing his game oops...and 00 line is on the other end hehe, dirty talk?? well...sanha tried okay, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, embarrassment

→ word count: 4k _____________________________________________

*afk → away from keyboard* for all my non-gamers :) I’m not a gamer, I just live with them...

Your POV

You were ecstatic, a little jump in your step as you neared your boyfriend’s dorm. You haven’t seen him in almost a month due to his busy schedule and comeback preparations. You were excited for him and his group, one of the perks of dating an idol member was knowing the secrets and spoilers of his plans long before they were revealed to the public. But with those perks also came the disadvantages of not being able to see your boyfriend as much as you’d like to, or even be open with your relationship in general.

Anyway, you were excited to see him. The text messages, phone calls, and FaceTimes could only satisfy you for so long, seeing Sanha in person was a completely different story. The last time you saw him was before he dyed his hair from black to the sleek dark red that it was now.

As soon as you received the text from your boyfriend asking if you were free to come over, you literally dropped everything that you were doing and got dressed to leave your apartment. You arrived at his dorm within thirty minutes, not wasting any precious time that you could be spending with him.

You were warmly greeted by their eldest, Myungjun’s excited tone alerting the others about your appearance. “y/n! We haven’t seen you in so long!”

You laughed and wrapped your arms around him in a hug, giggling as he lifted your body and shook you around, “I know, oppa! It’s so good to see you! You look so good! I’m excited for your album to come out.”

“Oh you cutie, stop it.” He beamed, patting your head as he set you down. “Sanha’s playing games in his room right now. If you get bored of him, just come find me and I’ll entertain you.”

“Will do oppa,” You chuckled as you bounced in the direction of Sanha’s bedroom. Your heart rapidly beating in your chest as you opened the door, revealing your 6′1 sweet boyfriend who was sitting intently on his gaming chair. You felt the oxygen knocked away from your lungs as he turned his maroon head of hair to face you. You almost had to do a double take from actually seeing his new hair color in person. Sure he’s sent you a bunch of pictures as soon as he dyed it and you’ve seen it through video calls, but wow...was this good looking man really your boyfriend?

He held his hand out to you, smiling as you approached him. He moved the mic away from his mouth before kissing the back of your hand, “Hey baby, I’m just playing a match real quick and then I’m all yours, okay?”

You nodded excitedly and leaned in to press a kiss on the cheek which wasn’t being covered by his headset. Sanha squeezed your hand affectionately before you hopped on his bed, pulling out your phone to pass the time while you waited for him to finish his match. Every now and then, you would look over to observe him and his game. You noticed that even his gaming setup has changed in the past month you haven’t seen each other, he was finally using the light-up keyboard you gifted him for your one year anniversary.

You could vaguely hear his friends through the headset, chuckling at his conversations with the esteemed ‘00 line. You found yourself grinning as Sanha furiously clicked away at the keyboard, even though your boyfriend is a famous idol, at the end of the day he was still just a regular young adult at heart who loved playing games.

You understood that this was probably one of his only ways of de-stressing as of recent, so you were pretty lenient about his gaming habits...

Until one match turned into two, which turned into three, and before you knew it, you’ve been waiting on his bed -- affection-starved -- for almost two hours.

Your lips pursed in annoyance, huffing as you locked your phone and tossed it aside somewhere on his bed, standing to get some water. Sanha turned his head at your movement, his mouth opening a bit in shock as he watched you leave his room. At that moment, he knew your patience was running thin.

You saw Jinwoo and Bin in the kitchen, the two smiling as you joined them. You found yourself pouting as you waddled into Jinwoo’s arms which opened in a welcoming hug. With dating Sanha, you also had the opportunity of getting to know his group, gaining five older brothers who treated you like one of their own. You got babied by the five of them a lot since you were dating their baby.

You let out a sigh as you retrieved a glass of water, resting your head on Jinwoo’s shoulder as you took small sips. You’ve received more affection from the rest of Astro than you have from your own boyfriend during this whole visit so far. Bin cooed as he pinched your cheek, “Why do you look so upset?”

You rolled your eyes as you took another sip, “Sanha’s been playing his game for the past 2 hours, I don’t even know why he asked me to come over if he wasn’t at least going to talk to me.”

Jinwoo gave you a sympathetic smile, patting your head as he nodded, “You know how he is y/n. When he doesn’t have a schedule or practice, he’s practically glued to his computer chair.”

You groaned and finished the rest of your water, placing the glass in the sink before you rested your hands on your hips, “If he doesn’t stop playing after this match, I’m literally leaving.”

The two elder boys laughed, respectively patting your shoulder and rubbing your back. Bin chuckled, “You do what you have to do. You know, scold him for us too. His eyes are gonna go bad from looking at that monitor too much.”

You nodded, asking them to wish you luck as you went back into Sanha’s room. When you opened the door, you noticed his chair turned around so that his back was to the desk, the monitor on the loading screen, and Sanha on his phone. He looked up with that big puppy expression on his face when he knew he’s did something wrong. He quickly placed his phone on the desk, pulling you in towards him as soon as you were in arm’s reach. He gently squeezed your hands as you stood in between his legs, resting your weight on one foot. “I’m sorry, baby.”

You narrowed your eyes in the slightest, “And what are you sorry for?”

“For ignoring you and just playing my game...” Sanha said quietly hugging your waist. He nuzzled his face against your stomach as your hands went up to play with his hair, all annoyance fizzling away in an instant. Damn, he was too cute for you to stay mad at him. You sighed and kissed the crown of his head, “Sanha, we haven’t seen in each other in so long because of your comeback. If you want to invite me over, I sort of hope that we’re spending time together and I’m not just watching you play...is your game really that much more interesting than me?”

He shook his head against your body, his voice muffled as he immediately said no. The tiniest of smiles crept its way onto your face, endeared at how cute your boyfriend was.

And then you heard his best friend through the headset, ruining the soft mood in an instant. “Sanha load up, c’mon where are you?”

You let out a sigh, God dammit Bomin.

Sanha lifted his head to meet your eyes, he sensed your frustration again immediately. You pursed your lips, reading the conflict swimming through his pupils. You knew that he wanted to keep playing, but he didn’t wanna make you mad. And in Sanha’s perspective, he did honestly plan to spend time with you when he invited you over, but then Daehwi asked him to play a round and when he gets immersed in his game, he needs to play until he’s literally sick of it for the day. “Baby..?”

You averted your gaze for a moment in thought, an idea popping into your head. Humming, your fingers twirled a strand of his hair, “You can keep playing, baby.”

Sanha blinked at you in surprise, his eyes widening, “Really? You won’t get mad if--”

“But! I’m sitting on your lap. I haven’t gotten any cuddles from you in at least three weeks and I’m not going back to your bed without you.”

He nodded eagerly, satisfied with the win-win situation. Sanha grinned patting his lap as he spread his legs to give you room. You chuckled, maneuvering your body through the space of his chair as you got seated atop his thighs, both of you face to face. By habit, Sanha’s hands rested at your waist, smiling as he pulled you into a sweet kiss. You felt the butterflies flutter in your stomach at the action, responding instantly. Your lips formed a little pout when he pulled away, your boyfriend smiling cheekily as he nuzzled his nose against yours, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You said before resting your head on his shoulder, leaning your body weight on his chest as a means to get as close to him as you possibly could. Sanha rubbed the skin of your waist affectionately before reaching for the headset and unmuting himself, “Bomin, I’m here.”

“Hey! What took you so long?”

“Chill, y/n’s here.” He said, glancing at you with a smile, “She can hear you by the way.”

“Yeah so watch your mouth, Bomin.” You said jokingly, turning your head briefly to speak into the microphone. Sanha grinned, pressing a kiss to your cheek as Bomin laughed through the headset. You heard Bomin -- along with Sanha’s other friends -- greet you, chuckling as your head returned to its spot on Sanha’s shoulder.

You let your boyfriend play one match peacefully, still enjoying finally being in his embrace. You closed your eyes, taking in the comforting scent of Sanha’s detergent and let yourself relax for a short while. When he got killed during the first match, his arms immediately wrapped around your waist, squeezing your body tightly as he kissed your temple. You hummed, listening as he watched and conversed with the others who were still alive.

It was then that you noticed the slight new definition of his muscles, the gears in your brain turning as you thought about how to proceed with your plan. Although you were literally on top of him right now, the majority of Sanha’s attention span was focused on his monitor, so you knew he couldn’t sense the growing arousal in your mind.

Early into his second match, you subtly shifted your ass around on his lap, making it seem like you were trying to readjust into a more comfortable position. At the same time, you moved your head to his other shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you did so. Your boyfriend smiled at you, still oblivious to what you were trying to do.

And then your hands gently started rubbing at his sides, the touch featherlike as you began to press kisses in the crook of his neck. You felt Sanha tense in the slightest as he quickly pressed the mute button on his mic, “Baby...what are you doing?”

“Hm?” You asked not even bothering to lift your head, “I’m kissing you, can I not?”

The male closed his eyes as he let out a muffled groan, his body reacting immediately to your ministrations, “y/n, are you trying to make me moan into the mic while I’m playing with the guys?”

You chuckled dryly as you started to start to suck on his skin, not hard enough to leave a mark because you knew his stylists would literally kill you if you did, but enough for him to get affected. And he did.

Sanha let out a breathy moan, subconsciously tilting his head so that you had more access.

“You ignored me for two hours baby. Since you wanna keep playing your game while I’m here, you’re gonna have to do so while I’m making you feel good. Now unmute and keep doing your thing.”

He bit his lip, narrowing his eyes at you as you moved your ass directly over his crotch, which was quickly getting hard. He was about to say something, but was cut off by Daehwi asking him where he was, Sanha cursing internally as he pressed unmute and responded. You smirked against his skin, still trailing kisses along his neck and intending to move up his jawline -- which had definitely gotten sharper since the last time you saw him.

Sanha tried his best, you could see how hard he was fighting against your temptations. Admittedly, you were a bit impressed with how well he was masking what was going on to his friends.

But you were a brat and you wanted to see your boyfriend’s self-restraint crumble. He managed to get through one match, trying to compromise with you once the display showed the loading screen, “Fuck, baby, I’m done. I can’t play anymore.”

You smiled at him as you got off his lap, going over to lock his door. Sanha sighed in relief, getting ready to tell his friends that he was logging off for the night, until you held your finger up at him, confusion on his features. Casually, you pulled down your pants and underwear, placing them to the side as you leaned down for a kiss. Your hands reached for the waistband of his sweats, Sanha lifting up his hips to help you pull the fabric down his legs.

“You’re gonna play one more game, baby.” You whispered against his mouth, the boy sighing in frustration as you climbed back onto his lap. His cock was already hard from all your grinding, he could not believe you were teasing him like this right now.

You were soaked, you knew that Sanha would slide right in without any resistance. You let out a sharp inhale as you lined yourself up with his cock, burying your face in his shoulder as you sat down in one go. The two of you let out a synchronized groan at the feeling, it had been too long since you last had sex. “Shit, y/n, you’re so fucking tight--I-fuck can’t we just take this to my bed?”

“No,” You said, voice shaky as you tried to calm yourself down from the initial intrusion. “This is payback for making me wait so long.”

Sanha’s hands gripped the meat of your ass, squeezing as he thrusted into you just once, “God, you do realize we’re both gonna suffer if you make me play another round.”

“You’re going to suffer more than I am,” You said devilishly as you unmuted his mic, “Sorry boys, Sanha went to the bathroom but he’s back now.”

He shot you glare, reluctantly removing his hands from your ass as he wore his headset again, “Guys, I think this is gonna be my last game, I’m getting pretty tired.”

“You know, I can’t believe y/n really just let you play with us this whole time. That’s love right there.”

“You’re a real one, y/n!”

“Sanha doesn’t deserve you, y/n!”

You laughed into the mic, sweetly responding to Sanha’s friends as you clenched your walls around his cock, watching with a lustful glint in your eyes at the contortion of pleasure on his face, his teeth harshly dug into his bottom lip to prevent any sounds from escaping.

“C’mon, start game.” Sanha said shortly, the grip on his mouse tightening as you clenched again. You stayed still for the first couple of minutes, letting Sanha adjust and play his game so that his friends wouldn’t be able to tell that something explicit was happening on his side of the screen.

Of course all Sanha could think about right now was the way your walls just sucked him in so nicely, wanting nothing more than to pin you to his bed and fuck into you with no restraints. But he knew that you wouldn’t let him do that until he finished his match, so he tried to focus on completing this game as fast as he could.

He felt himself freezing as you started to kiss his neck again, mentally telling himself to stay calm and not make a noise. As soon as his guard was down, you lifted your hips so that only the head of his cock was in your cunt before slamming your ass down on his lap, a loud slap sounding from the contact of your skins. Sanha lurched forward, a strangled moan fighting in his throat as you tightly clenched your walls, squeezing his cock.

“Woah-are you okay, Sanha? What happened?”

“Y-yeah, I hit my knee against the d-desk,” He stuttered a lie, one of his hands gripping your waist as you started to slowly fuck yourself on him. It was getting harder for you to conceal your moans, burying your face in his shoulder as you tried to chase your high, this position allowing Sanha to hit so deep in your cunt.

His eyes flickered back and forth between the screen and you riding his cock, his legs subconsciously spreading as far as the chair allowed him. Sanha knew it was over for him when you lifted yourself off his chest, your eyes blown wide with lust as one of your hands fisted the bottom of his shirt, the other sneaking down to where the two of you were connected, making contact with your clit. You threw your head back at the added sensation, your mouth opening in a silent moan as you clenched your walls again.

“Sanha, where are you? Why are you standing still--”

“Fuck--AFK guys, AFK!” Sanha said hurriedly, throwing his headset off as he muted his mic. He pulled you in for a searing kiss, moving his lips fiercely against yours as you grabbed at his shoulders. “You’re fucking evil.”

“That’s what you get for not paying attention to me,” You panted against his mouth, sluggishly getting off his lap. Sanha practically kicked his gaming chair back as he towered over you, removing both of your shirts before he pushed you down on his bed. He pulled your thighs open, positioning his cock at your entrance. “Fuck, do you know how hard it was to not fuck you while I was playing?”

You whined as he moved his tip up and down your slit, tapping the head at your sensitive bud. “Now you have all my attention, baby.”

The two of you moaned loudly as he sheathed himself in your cunt, momentarily forgetting that there were five other inhabitants of his dorm. Sanha started a brutal pace from the beginning, thrusting into you with no restraints. Your hands tangled themselves in his hair as you pulled him down for a kiss, muffling your moans against his mouth.

“Mmmf, Sanha--”

He groaned, biting your bottom lip before lifting your thighs so that your legs hung from his shoulder, allowing him to penetrate even deeper in your cunt, “Shit, I missed your pussy baby. You’re fucking dripping on my sheets, God.”

His hands flew to your chest, roughly groping your breasts as he used it for leverage to fuck into you at a faster pace. The sounds in his room were obscene, the squelch of your arousal and the smack of his balls hitting your ass drowning out anything else.

Sanha felt like he was drunk on your cunt, breathing heavily as he tried to get more sounds out of you, your moans music to his ears. He hissed as your nails clawed at his arms, a telltale sign that you were nearing your end. “S-Sanha, I-fuck!”

“Are you close, baby?” He asked authoritatively, his heart swelling as you nodded with a whine, your hands scrambling to feel every inch of his skin. You keened as he called your name, commanding you to look at him as you reached your orgasm.

The tension in your stomach snapped when he snuck a hand down to play at your clit, rubbing it between two of his fingers as he tweaked your nipple, fucking you through your high. Your toes curled in pleasure, legs convulsing as you let out a high-pitched moan. You tried your best to maintain eye contact, but the dizzying euphoria made your lids flutter close, Sanha harshly sucking hickeys in your neck as he too, chased, his high.

He cursed, still drawing circles on your clit as he rutted his hips into yours. You screamed as you were forced into another orgasm, your tight pulsating walls around his cock enough to push him to the edge. Sanha groaned gravelly, his nails digging into your waist as he released his load in your cunt.

Sanha pulled out when he felt his cock fully flaccid, sitting back against his palms as he watched both of your cum leak out your entrance. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to regain your breath, meeting his eyes from where you laid. Sanha chuckled, kissing your knee before standing to get some tissues, coming back to carefully wipe your cunt clean.

You reached your arms out for him to lay down next to you as soon as he threw the soiled tissue away. He smiled lovingly, joining you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

“Are you upset with me?” He asked cutely, pecking your nose. You grinned and buried your face in his chest, kissing the space between his collarbones. “No, you’re here with me now.”

Sanha giggled, stroking your hair as he tapped his fingers at the small of your back, “’M sorry for ignoring you, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too,” You said, humming as you closed your eyes, sleep slowly overtaking you. He tutted, removing his arms from your body as he sat up, “No! y/n, you have to pee first before you sleep.”

“But I’m tired,” You whined, reaching for him again. Sanha shook his head, gently pulling you up, “Baby, if you get a UTI, you’re gonna hate yourself. Now c’mon, peeing only takes a couple seconds.”

You grumbled as he found one of his oversized t-shirts, dressing you before finding a pair of shorts for himself. You let out a woah as you stood, holding onto Sanha for support as your legs started to wobble. Your boyfriend chuckled smugly, squeezing your waist as you regained your balance, “You good, baby?”

“Shut up.”

The two of you glanced at his computer, which was now at the main screen of the game. “Do you think they heard, baby?”

“No way,” Sanha said, though he couldn’t deny the slight fear in the pit of his stomach if his friends really did hear you and him having sex. “I muted myself...right?”

You shrugged, not really minding before going to open the door, leading the two of you out of his room. Your face flushed, your feet stopping dead in their tracks as you came face to face with the rest of Astro, all five of them giving you and your boyfriend knowing looks as they sat dispersed around the living room.

“Ah hyungs!”

“I really hope you two used protection,” Eunwoo lectured, though you saw the smirk on his face.

“I’m--bathroom--peeing...yeah.” You said embarrassed, scurrying off to the direction of their bathroom, yelping as your legs almost gave in.

“Woah, careful y/n,” Rocky snickered sending a wink in Sanha’s direction. The boys began teasing their youngest as soon as you closed the door to the bathroom, Sanha hiding his face in his hands, “Are you really going to do this every time y/n comes over?? It’s been more than a year!”

“No, we only do it when you two kids are loud as hell.” Bin said bluntly, slapping Myungjun’s arm in amusement. Jinwoo chuckled, lightly pointing a finger at your boyfriend, “You better have this much energy during promotions, Sanha--”

“Hyung!” ______________________________

4-6-21

#woah where did this come from?#im also just obsessed with sanha's part in one and that mayhaps was the inspiration #and also gamer tingz #sanha #yoon sanha #astro #astro smut #astro fluff #astro au #astro scenarios #sanha smut #sanha fluff #sanha au #sanha scenarios #request

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ameliagiovanna0 · 3 years ago

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All You Had To Do Was Ask

I’ve been holding off posting this. I haven’t posted most of my writing, fanfic related or otherwise. This is different than anything else I’ve written let alone posted. I’m making this seem so much more dramatic than I need to lol. I'm not sure this is totally in character for Jay and Hailey, but I got this idea and decided to write it.

Anyway, please enjoy this very short, hopefully funny, Upstead drabble.

I'm obsessed with their wedding rings, so it's not like it's not going to be mentioned.

Dressed in one of Jay’s henleys and her favorite pair of sleep shorts, Hailey leaned against the threshold between the master bedroom and living room watching Jay move about the kitchen. He was clad only in a pair of black sweatpants and no shirt.

Feeling the wetness of her hair seeping through her shirt, Hailey twisted it around her finger and into a makeshift bun lacking a hair tie. She couldn’t help but adore the domesticity of the situation: watching her husband scurry about their home while she stood there watching him wearing one of his shirts. As he stirred the pot on the stove, Hailey caught sight of his ring, and a familiar warmth blossomed in her chest.

She hopped onto the island behind the stove to continue gazing upon her Roman god-looking husband. She’d always known he was attractive. She wasn’t blind. But since they’d become a couple, she’d been able to openly appreciate it without worrying he, or anyone else, would notice. Every once in a while, however, when he’d catch her staring. It still made her blush. He found it endearing, chuckling at her almost every time.

Jay stopped what he was doing long enough to step between Hailey’s legs, gripping her hips and giving her a quick kiss. They carried on somewhat of a conversation, but Hailey wasn’t paying too much attention to what Jay was saying or what she responded with. Her eyes followed his every move. She watched his muscles twitch as he reached for a plate and flex as he gripped the pot handle. He reached for the salt beside the stove, and Hailey spotted his ring again. Her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. She couldn’t help herself. It was intoxicating- the sight of her husband. Only then did Hailey realize she’d been twisting her own ring the entire time.

Frustratedly Hailey breathed, “Would you just fuck me already?”

Somewhat bewildered and chuckling because of it, Jay turned around to face his wife, “What?”

“You kiss me at work. You make me dinner. Shirtless,” she gestured to him, “You’re standing there looking like a goddamn five course meal.”

They were still in agreement that they kept physical contact to a minimum at work. For the most part, they kept to that rule. Only when they were alone would Jay tow the line. It was always Jay. And it usually scrapped Hailey’s focus for the rest of the day. It was one of the reasons they agreed to this rule. But Jay knew they were, more or less, on their way out for the day, so he kissed his wife.

He was genuinely trying not to laugh. She seemed so frustrated. It was almost cute. A chuckle escaping, he flicked the stove off and stepped toward her.

“All you had to do was ask,” he said, his hand trailing under her shirt. Hailey’s feet locked behind his thighs as he resumed his position between her legs.

“I am! This is me asking!”

He arched an eyebrow at her, giving her a sexy smirk. God dammit. That smirk.

His hands traveled further up her body. His lips attached to her clavicle, sucking a mark into her skin from where the shirt slid off her shoulder.

“Jay-” she moaned, “don’t tease me!”

He smiled against her shoulder, his hands finally reaching their destination under her shirt.

Hailey grumbled at him again, her fingers threading through his hair.

“Patience, Hails,” Jay said, scooping her up and finding a path to the couch.

#chicago pd #hailey upton #jay halstead #upstead #upstead fic #upstead fanfic #upstead drabble #ameliagiovanna writes

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klvbxlove · 4 years ago

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endearing (yu & kanji x gn! reader)

a/n: so, thanks to my cousins who’ve been talking about it often in our groupchat, i’ve gotten hella obsessed with the anime, “persona 4: the animation″! i frickin’ love yu and kanji; they’re my new anime husbandos LOL. anyways, i know i mainly write for iida (BNHA), but i figured i’d give this a try ‘cause why not? (and besides, i wanted to express my love for yu and kanji and maybe feed some simps LMAO). i should also point out that because this is my first time writing for persona 4, the characters might be OOC; i apologize :( but regardless, i hope y’all will like it!

(this GIF is so cute, omfg. also, LOOK AT KANJI’S ARMS OH MY GOD. SIR, PLEASE HUG ME WITH THOSE ARMS DAMMIT!!!!)

reader type: gender neutral

reader specification(s): none

genre(s): fluff, romance

trigger warning(s): none

summary: yu and kanji find you cute-- no wait, endearing, no matter what, especially when you’re sleeping

word count: 1.3k words

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

key:

(f/a/c) = favorite anime character (h/c) = hair color (y/n) = your name

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

Usually, you would have spent the weekend like any other weekend. Watch anime and eat nothing but your favorite food by yourself.

And well? You were not by yourself anymore. Instead, you found yourself in your room with your boyfriends, Yu and Kanji. You had your lap on Yu’s lap, feeling his hand stroke your (H/C) hair, as Kanji leaned against the gray-haired male. Both of them were talking about something, but you did not pay much attention to it.

In all honesty, you were still in shock that you were able to spend moments like this with them. Well, it was more of you being shocked that you ended up in a poly relationship with the duo in the first place!

You remembered you had wanted to confess your feelings towards Yu and Kanji, but you could not. For one, you were too much of a coward. Two, you knew both of them would not feel the same way (Yu was extremely popular with the ladies, and Rise did seem to have a bit of a crush on him. Meanwhile, Kanji seemed to be crushing hard on Naoto). And three, you would have difficulty deciding which person to confess. You did not even know if either of them were okay with a poly relationship!

But of course, you cannot forget to mention you did not want to make your friendship with them awkward by confessing to them and having them reject you. You could not even imagine yourself hanging around the boys as often if that were to occur!

Finding out that Yu and Kanji just so happened to feel the same way about you felt like a bit of a dream. Reminiscing to their flustered faces after their confessions (although Kanji was much more flustered than Yu), you swore your jaw almost dropped to the ground (literally). You even almost considered asking Chie to knock you out with her kung-fu moves to wake you up if this was a dream.

Nope! It turns out it was not a dream at all.

And of course, you said yes.

Whether or not you were exaggerating, you did not care. But that day felt like one of the best days ever in your life. No other day could compare to it. And since that day, you felt lucky to call Kanji and Yu your boyfriends.

Back to the present, you slowly felt a sense of drowsiness overcome you as your eyes were beginning to close. There something about the feeling of Yu’s hand against any part of your body that easily comforted you, especially whenever he is calming you down from crying. It must have been a feeling of comfort if you could put it that way. It was so comforting that it was already making you feel sleepy.

But you know what? No point in trying to fight your eyes back open. Besides, you have been tired the whole day. And the position you were in was also comfortable.

“Hey, do you think they would like this?” Kanji turned around towards Yu, holding up a handmade plush he had finished. It was supposed to replicate one of your favorite anime characters. Kanji originally wanted to make it small like his usual plushies. However, he had taken notice of how you preferred the larger ones that you could hug.

“I saw them watching some anime series the other day and found out they love this character a whole damn lot.” Kanji explained. While Yu noticed how proud he was of his creation, he also noticed some slight jealousy in his tone. The gray-haired male assumed that Kanji felt insecure about seeing their significant other practically squeal over an anime character. Not that you would ever break up with them for that. You would never be disloyal to them for an anime character!

As Yu’s eyes looked over the plush once again, he smiled softly and reached out to take it from Kanji. “Yeah, it is pretty cute,” he answered, feeling the softness of the creation against his skin. He could already imagine you holding it tightly as if your life depended on it. “Do you wanna give it to them?”

“I mean, yeah, I was kinda planning to,” Kanji rubbed the back of his neck. Then he looked down at you. “Hey, (Y/N).”

No response. Kanji waited a few moments before trying again. “(Y/N)?” he called your name, making his voice a little louder.

Yu also attempted to get a response by gently tapping your shoulder. But when you let out a soft snore, both of them realized you had fallen asleep.

“Okay, well, I guess I can give it to them later, then,” Kanji said, lowering his voice so he would not wake you up.

“Yeah,” Yu nodded, putting the (F/A/C) plush down. He figured you should sleep on your bed instead. So Yu carefully lifted you into his arms and stood up, carried you in a bridal style, and walked over towards your bed to put you down. He made sure your head was resting on your pillow before he pulled the blanket over your body.

For a while, your boyfriends watched you (non creepily!) as your chest rose up and down from your breathing. For the most part, you did not move often in your sleep. Although every once in a while, you would make a noise.

“You know,” Kanji spoke up amidst the silence; a blush was already covering his cheeks. “I never realized how cute (Y/N) was when they sleep." Then his eyes widened. "N-Not that I’m trying to be a creep or anything!” He began defending himself, like Yu had some suspicions, as he waved his hands. “I’m just saying! I mean--”

“It’s fine, Kanji,” Yu chuckled, interrupting him. “I understand. I mean, cute is a bit of an understatement. They are quite endearing. And not just during their sleep.”

More moments of the boys watching you passed. At this point, Kanji was developing the urge to climb into bed with you and hold you close against his chest in an attempt to cuddle you. Meanwhile, Yu felt a pang at his heart due to the sight in your peaceful form.

It seems like you had that effect on your boyfriends. And you did not even know it.

“Should we...leave or something?” Kanji leaned over towards Yu and whispered. “I dunno. I think it would be a bit weird if we kept staring at them like this.”

“Mmm. Kanji, Yu...”

Said boys averted their eyes towards you. You had your hands reached out, almost as if you were trying to grab something. At first, they were confused (did you want something?), but Yu walked over towards your bed and kneeled in front of you. Out of curiosity, he placed his hands into yours, and you immediately grabbed it, holding it tight as if you were scared he would slip out of your grip. Yu smiled softly again, then turned back. “Or maybe we should cuddle them?" he suggested.

Kanji knew he must have looked like a tomato, but he did not care at this point (Not like anyone else could see). You being clingy was something that always made his heart race. He could already hear your voice whining their names and saw you pouting with those puppy dog eyes.

Damn it! You were way too cute-- no, way too ENDEARING for him! He almost could not take it!

“Alright, I guess we could,” Kanji mumbled. Carefully, he climbed into bed, getting into the position where he could big spoon you and wrap his arms around your waist. Yu did the same thing, except he was facing you. The boys looked at you with loving glances while Yu gently caressed your cheek using his free hand (your grip on his other hand never released).

“Sleep well, (Y/N),” The gray-haired male whispered, placing a kiss on your cheek before brushing a strand of your (H/C) hair out of your face. After Kanji decided to do the same thing, except he placed a kiss on your neck, they eventually fell asleep with you secured in your arms.

#persona 4 #persona #persona 4 x reader #persona 4 imagines #persona imagines #kanji tatsumi #yu narukami #fanfiction #persona 4 golden #p4g #yu narukami x reader #kanji tatsumi x reader #various x reader #oneshot #kristin's writings

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the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see · 3 years ago

Note

tree!! i was forced to watch the new mahesh babu movie yesterday and i desperately need to make fun of it- it wasn’t like god awful but the title song was... interesting (go watch it if you want to laugh at the bezos reference lmao)

also saw that you watched rrr and i’m glad that desiblr is making all of the gay memes (its what ram and bheem would’ve wanted) <3

side note i got my prom dress the other day and it’s yellow (i have a brand here dammit) and has flowers and after a slight gender crisis- i’m pretty hyped!

importantly: how are you?? what shenanigans have you been up to? give me all the small talk <3

ilysm you funky lil dude *gives you a bear hug*

mWah! mwah!

- indi <3

LMAO ive heard so many bad things about it i want to watch it soo badly!! i will listen to the title song first thing tomorrow morning sjkdfhksjdfh i did NOT know there was a fuckin BEZOS reference........................ losing my mind

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ikr im literally. so!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! im so glad all of desiblr took a look at those gay ass men and side-eyed each other like. YES that man is fruity yes YES he is out 😏 i have so many thoughts about themm

omg prom!!!!! im so excited for you and 🙈 we are the same person bc i TOO bought a yellow flowered dress this weekend!! 😳 its probably a lot more casual than yours though lmao, its a spring cottagey dress, not prom dress level but still!!! im wearing it for a party on saturday so if YOU wear YOURS saturday we will be twinsies 🥰 it'll be like we are going to prom together<3

im awesome! story: flashback to elementary school, i was best friends with this girl and we would have killed and fought wars for each other. i loved her so much and literally could not imagine being without her but then! she moved! and after two years spent trying to find some way to contact her, i moved too! and i lost all hope. flash forward to the beginning of this year, one of my friends will not shut up about this girl she met at tae kwon do - she's cool and hot and kind and she reminds her a lot of me!! two days ago, i saw a picture of her for the first time, and something lit up in my brain, but i shelved it as oh i probably know her dad. took a selfie with my friend, who sends it to her buddy and! she says OMG WAIT DID TREE GO TO [insert my elementary school here]?? AND THEN ALL THE MEMORIES HIT ME. it was her!!!!!!! and i was so excited i went nonverbal, stole my friends phone, and texted her in a frenzy and she was like I MISSED YOU SO MUCH and i started crying! in a good way!! and then i came out to her bc she asked me how ive been and i said gay and trans and then she said "slay 🔥" she's coming to our friend's birthday party and i can't wait to tackle her as soon as i see her

also i've been eating so many laddus that chotta bheem is jealous 😭 it was my sister's half-sari function 12 days ago and we have so much food left over and its so awesome i am stuffing myself

plus, my partner has been learning gaelic (bc theyre irish) and referring to me with gaelic terms of endearment and IVE been referring to THEM with telugu terms of endearment and let me just say it is heartmelting every time?? feeling #loved

and last but not least, i have been on a mission to leave my mark on my school and have been vandalizing doing so by drawing little trees in sharpie everywhere!! i will most likely forget soon but nevertheless those walls will remember me

MWAH MWAH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH INDI<33333 *drowns in your hug bc i am short and itty bitty*

#tumblr is working again!! these moments without you are the darkest my beloved #asks #indiphannon #the tree speaks

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harryswatermelonsegment · 4 years ago

Text

Pool Party

Pairing: Reader/Harry Styles

Rating: R, text book smut

Word Count: 5k 😳

Warnings: Slight sub/dom tones I guess? & alcohol consumption

A/N: Sorry this is late, life somewhat resuming here in the UK so it means I’m back at my job. I managed to fall asleep mid edit folks 😳, this is my entry for the @helladirections Summer Feeling Fic Challenge, with the prompt “pool party” click the link for the masterlist. I’m still writing two more, one for @berrynarrybanana ‘s Sex Bucketlist Challenge but it’s turning out to be a 20k slow burn I wasn’t expecting 😬.Oops. But enjoy this one, I’m proud of her. My one other blatant thirst fic can be found here. Reblogs get free gratitude for the next 5 years 🍉💕

You'd been friends with Jeff since your teens, when his parents (despite their wealth), wanted him to get a job at the restaurant you worked at. In their rightful thinking, they wanted him to learn you had to work from the ground up.

Despite your clearly different class background you found a ton of common interests making the whole thing immaterial. He was a caring, down to earth guy and you were both people who really enjoyed sarcastically taunting each other every shift. You'd got used to visiting his house in the hills even though you'd been scared to get lost at first around his parents large house. Becoming solid friends quickly, you'd managed to keep in touch, as much as adult life would now allow anyway.

You knew his main role was managing a pop star but you'd not caught up in a minute and when you did, you kept your job chat out of the conversation where you could. This is why, as you barge through the kitchen, to the pool outside, you're shocked to nearly knock a stunned Harry Styles onto his behind.

"Fuck, shit I'm so sorry" you clutch your chest looking at the red wine on his tank top and his now empty glass. The soiled garment was tucked into some dressy shorts and partly covered by a loud hawaiian patterned shirt. Oh god what had you done?

You were quite honestly mortified. You'd never actually met the man himself, usually meeting Jeff at his for a few drinks or at a restaurant. You'd heard him mentioned in stories about travelling or how his campaigns were running Jeff into the ground with meetings. So, although you weren't a massive fan of his per se, in the way you didn't ask Jeff for updates or info, the way you'd hope you'd meet the attractive pop star was definitely not this.

He looked down at the offending stain then back up into your eyes, keeping his head angled down and blinking through his lashes. You couldn't read his blank expression and it put you on edge.

Maybe it was the heat trapped in the doorway, but as your eyes stayed locked you suddenly felt a fire spread from your navel up to your cheeks, and then from your center down to your toes. Your lower stomach clenched as you stared back at the guy covered in a good 2007 French rouge.

Fuck me he's pretty, you thought.

A rapid film reel of moments; sweaty bodies, those large biceps holding you against the nearest wall, smacking of lips against skin and moans of release flashed in your brain.

It had definitely been a while since you had got laid in your defense, your mood and pent up sexual frustration getting worse by the day as you tried and failed at the L. A. dating scene. Maybe you were picky, but horny and picky was an awful place to be.

However, the reality of the embarrassing scene you were currently a star of, flipped you back into the present.

Seemingly over the initial incident and hopefully not a mind reader to your thirsty brain, he takes you in and smirks.

Harry knew from the way your breathing hitched looking at his torso that you were at least a bit interested. He had clocked you the second you walked in through the big glass doors. A shirt of a band he liked and a natural beauty he wanted to spend some times with you he pondered. Ideally naked.

Zig zagging across the world promoting the album and had left little time to enjoy another person. Status and obligation to his job making it hard to just go out and meet someone. But here you were, dressed unlike anyone else, looking absolutely adorable in your embarrassment. You must be trustworthy if you're in Jeff's home,he wasn't a "bring your friends too" kind of host with his clients usually around.

This could be a fun evening for you both, he thought. Something unspoken, almost magnetic, drawing you both to one another. Surely that wasn't all his side right?

"I was told it was a good year, but I wasn't planning on consuming it quite this way?" inwardly he rolled his eyes at the barely there quip. But you laughed anyway.

"I am so, so awfully sorry, look, let's see if there's some dish liquid or something, possibly some of my next months rent in there too if I have to replace it" you let out a nervous laugh as you walked towards the kitchen. But in all honesty you weren't kidding.

Harry laughed at your sarcastic remark, impressed by your confidence in owning the situation and getting on with things. He casually watched your hips sway past a few people in to the open plan kitchen with as much subtlety as he could, you were confidentially locating all the parts needed to try and remove the offending stain.

"You seem to know your way around 'ere. I'm er…I'm Harry by the way" awkwardly waving as you mixed some solution in the sink drenching a sponge in it.

"Yeah" you smiled turning from the sink with the damp rag "known Jeff a good while, have definitely spilt red wine here before. I'm Y/N" you giggle. The beam from his own mouth matching.

"Ah! Y/N, of course, I've heard him mention you, didn't you once hide rotting mackerel in a unpleasant guys blazer?" he chuckled

"Heyyyy. Only after he spanked my ass getting him the check. Deserved a hot plate to the crotch too" you shot back.

You weren't sure where to go from here the thought of wetting down the white tank yourself definitely appealed but also seemed far too forward.

"Um…" you began gesturing with the sponge in your hand. You expected him to take it from you to sort himself out but..

"Oh yeah sorry" he replied shimmying his shirt off, dumping it on the back of a bar stool, then, crossing his arms across his stomach and lifting the tank top over his head you were slack jawed and frozen taking in the lean muscles and tattoos littered intermittently across his abdomen. He spread the top across the islands worktop flat, then grabbing the sponge with a simple "thanks" and knitting his eyebrows together in concentration as he tried to rid the dull red mark from it's center.

You still hadn't moved. A pink twinge to your cheeks as you watched his shoulder blades and back muscles scrubbing. Dirty thoughts circling your brain still.

"I would have helped you but I didn't want to start a wet tshirt contest in such a high end establishment yknow?" you thought out loud.

"Oh yeah, good call. I'm fiercely competitive Y/N so would probably be under that fancy waterfall thing by now showing off m'moves in my pants" he wiggles his hips trying to suggestively show you his "moves" but you can't help but smirk at just how endearing this man is. Dammit.

When he's finished with his shirt he drapes it over another barstool before handing you the sponge back.

If anyone asks him if he blatantly and deliberately got naked to gauge if you were into him he'd definitely deny it. But the truth is, he definitely did. Luckily for him, with the way you bite your lip and drag your eyes down his flesh as he brushes past your side to get back to the sink, he's right.

"Speaking of getting in the water in your" you use air quotes "'pants' I'm off to get out of mine" you declare, pushing yourself from the counter and keeping eye contact a second as you stroll back to the sliding doors leading to the pool.

"I… What??"

" The pool Harry?.... What did you think I meant?" you narrow your eyes and press your lips together before shutting the glass door again and turning once more to smirk at the opened mouthed man still by the sink.

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

You'd been schmoozing in the water for a few hours now. There were probably only 20 or so people still here and the 3rd frozen marg had got you buzzed. You were in the small hot tub type pool, attached at the top of the main one on a slightly higher level. You hadn't seen Harry for a while but the last few times you caught his eye he'd been surrounded by at least 3 other people fighting for his attention, so you banked your flirtations to soothe your own ego, grabbed another marg and tried to forget about how he had started a tornado inside you, yearning for his hands on your thighs and head peering up at you from where they met in the middle. The strong pull of lust was clearly in your head then. What a shame.

You put it to the back of your mind as you finished catching up with Glenne. Both flushed and giggly as usual, she was the perfect match for Jeff and their chemistry unmatchable. You always enjoyed hanging out with the both of them, if anything, they gave you hope your own match may be out there. She left you in the tub alone, as she went to grab herself another drink and check on her host duties boyfriend.

"Don't you find drinking whilst already in water the weirdest thing?" you look up to find Harry standing over your right shoulder as you sit with your back against the pool wall and your elbows propping you up behind you, drink in one hand. His eyes unsubtley slip down to where your breasts lay pushed together in your halter neck bikini. You definitely weren't imagining it then. Fucking fantastic, you think.

"I mean drowning yourself on the inside from the alcohol and being in more than 4 inches of water really adds a danger element to my life if I'm honest" you reply sipping your drink.

And there goes those dimples again.

He's just in a pair of yellow swimming shorts now which doesn't help the alcohol flush at all. Sitting by your right side, putting his short glass full of amber liquid and ice, on the side of the pool and sliding in to join you. He leaves a small gap, as to not appear a total letch but your smart mouth has him hooked.

Taking a sip of his drink with the water up to his collar bones he hums.

"I do feel incredibly dangerous now, you've got a point"

"I mean if you think that's danger" you edge closer, not drunk but buzzed enough to take your chances you whisper into the shell of his ear. "You should see what thrills are in the guest bathroom. 1st floor on the right? " he chokes on his drink as your suggestive whispers make his dick twitch. He definitely couldn't get out of the pool for a while.

You're gone before you get a verbal reaction. If this all goes badly then you can just hide in there and slip out to an Uber and never see Jeff again right? Right. Cool.

With a soft white towel around you and your heart rate high as you reach the main guest bedroom you enter the room, you notice a large weekend bag in there and freeze. Shit. Someone's staying over, you hadn't factored that in, but a glance to the tag and the embossed H. E. S tells you you're good. Well, if not you'll just be a creep hiding in someone's bathroom but let's not think about it too much. Your faux confidence was working well so far and what other chance was going to arise like this one? Hot celebrities need fun with strangers too right?

Entering the bathroom you rub the towel over you, leaving mostly dry skin. You'd peel away your bikini if you were definite you wouldn't need to peel it back up your limbs should this plan backfire. You move to the mirror to adjust the black flecks from your minimal makeup dispersing under your eye and just as you're about to smooth down the stray baby hairs that humidity has got to around your face, you see Harry appear in the mirror behind you. Your belly flipping over and over with the thrill he'd took the bait.

Wasting no time he smirks and holds your gaze, wrapping his hands around your waist whilst his lips attach to the junction of your neck and collarbone. His tongue drags over your soft skin and he licks and softly sucks swirls onto it with his plush lips.

"Hm. You're right. This is a more fun type of danger" he says between kisses but before he's even finished his sentence you've spun around in his arms.

The bottom of your spine cold against the marble countertop, arms around his neck as you smash your lips into one another's with urgency. Tongues and wet noises as you get to know one another through your bodies alone.

He runs his hands down your back and presses his hard length against your thigh. He's definitely packing you think as you lift up a little rub your pubic bone against his front, panting out a little moan as the sweet friction of your bodies colliding sends you into overdrive. Catching the noise through your parted lips he gently tugs on the bottom one, teeth grazing the supple flesh. This combined with his large palms kneading your ass and pulling you further, tighter, into the roll of his hips. Only two layers of damp clothing separate you,forcing your lips to break from his mouth and fully moan, not caring who may be around. You could not remember the last time a perfect stranger knew your body quite this well.

His own grunts were speeding up when he suddenly grabs the back of your thighs and hoists you up beside the sink, you gasp in shock but it was more the way the lean man thrusted you up there like it was nothing. What else could he do? You expect him to go back to kissing you but instead he pulls back with his rock hard erection outlined in the wet shorts he still has on. Looking at you dead in the eyes both raging with lust and concern. Whilst you try not to worry how you were going to accommodate him inside your tight walls.

"Is this…? I mean, you want this too right?" his hands are resting at either side of your parted thighs. You nod. "Need you to say it Y/N" he steps forward, lips wet and brushes the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip that was now puffy and pink from the earlier biting. He knew you were down to fuck, but now he wanted to test your preferences. What kind of fun you were about to have shall we say. So when you lick his thumb tip, holding his fist still and grazing your wet tongue up and down from knuckle to tip before closing your eyes and humming around the entire digit, he knew you were both in for a good time.

Removing the thumb he whispers a barely audible "fuck me" before smashing your lips back together, tongues massaging together as he peels your underwear to the side with his hand swiftly and presses digit you'd lubricated with your mouth against your clit, moving it fast from side to side with just the right amount of pressure to make your head spin. Gasping, you throw your head back, hands clasped around his neck as you lean back and feel yourself start to leak a little with arousal. The few spots dripping down on to the counter.

You could say it had been a while but really this guy was moving his way round your body in the same way you tune a guitar in key. Calloused fingers applying the right amount of pressure as you felt yourself start to get to the edge already. He was kissing down the front if your chest, between your breasts, not missing a beat when he pushed both triangles of your bikini aside and you moaned loudly as he kissed and sucked hard around your nipple, tentatively pulling it between his teeth firmly, the sound you let out made him clamp a little harder before sucking in the whole nipple again, soothing the skin his tongue. Most likely leaving a mark behind, but you kind of liked the idea of proof he'd been devouring you in all honesty.

You were becoming blissed out from all the stimulation. Clenching and moving your hips around nothing but this magical thumb working your clit up and down hard. You were overcome with this whole situation playing out the way it had. You broke away from his mouth again.

"Oh fuck.. Harry, I'm… FuckFuck I'm going to come, I'm gonna fucking… Ahhh" he pulled back one arm steadying you as your head hit the mirror behind you in your release. He just watched you and slowed his thumb down watching as the liquid cascaded onto the counter.

After you'd come down you open your eyes and shyly smiled before kissing him passionately, his hands moving around your waist tightly. You moved your hand to his shorts, teasingly grazing the outline of his cock between your fingers in hopes of repaying the favour. He does a single throaty laugh and removes your hand, holding himself against his thigh. You look at him in confusion when he splutters,

"Sorry, sorry its just I'm going t'blow my load if you touch me." then he's back on your lips "Too. Fucking. Sexy" he says between wet kisses to your jaw, neck and clavicle. "Wanted to do this since I first set eyes on you" one hand is on the back of his neck twisting nape curls between your fist whilst the other rests behind you, stopping you from hitting your head on the mirror again.

"Oh yeah? Before or after I ruined your clothes?" you laugh teasingly as he slides his hands around your back to finally remove the bikini top properly, lifting it up over your head and tossing it aside somewhere on the floor. He let's a laugh out himself completely entranced still by how natural you are around him, it was often hard to connect with strangers in his position.

"I'd spotted you walking in, was trying to open the door for you m'love" he says before sucking a red mark into your breast and massaging and pulling the other nipple slightly with his hand.

You struggle through sharp intakes of breath for a reply.

"Well….ah...that's what chivalry.. Oh.. Get's you these days I guess" and you're both laughing a little.

"Hmm. Have to try harder with my manners then won't I? I mean, I've got to clear up the mess I've made here" he cups his hand against your pussy rubbing it up and down a little with his palm. You let out a guttural noise at the friction. "Ladies first and all'tha too right?" he giggles again at himself.

You're practically cumming right then, you couldn't remember the last time someone actually went down on you. Your previous boyfriend not particularly into offering you foreplay. A main point of why he didn't stick around too long.

Harry kisses down your abdomen now, soft sloppy, sensual pecks, humming into your skin every so often in appreciation as he works at removing your soaked bikini bottoms with his hands, pushing them down to your knees before you help, letting them fall from the remaining ankle to the ground.

Harry is moving far too slow for you, kissing across each hip down to the top of your slit, breathing over where you desperately need him before paying the other side the same attention. Then he's licking up each crease where your thigh meets your pelvis.

"Y/N, just.. Just turn, that's it and lean back as far as you can there, shuffle forward until can't balance anymore" you shift your ass as forward as possible on the lip of the sink and prop yourself up on your elbows trying to be as flat as possible on the cold counter as you could, your toes behind the sink with one foot the other dangling over the edge. You keep you thighs open as Harry hunches over the counter where you now lay diagonal. He places his arms under your thighs and bends your legs flat out as he can stretch you, you're expecting some more teasing but he just looks down at your pussy licking over his lips and almost whining before burying his tongue inside you immediately. The force of his tongue lapping up your previous climax causes you once again to knock the side of your head against the mirrored wall. You turn and watch the scene almost as a spectator, witnessing yourself bare to this beautiful man, curly brown hair between your fists and making sounds like he's savouring every taste. He catches you watching before taking his mouth off you, immediately, you're whining in protest.

"Watch my eyes not my reflection baby, I'm right here"

His authoritative tone eclipsing every thought you had about the casual nickname, you stared down at the wonderful site of him lapping and suckling on your clit. Pointed tongue and firm laps against the swollen button. He then starts lapping up at your glistening hole,unhooking an arm to spread your lips open between his fingers and licking right from the bottom to the top with all the sloppy wet noises involved. He was feeling you contract as he locked faster and faster over you. His tongue deserved an award never mind his music. You couldn't believe you were on the brink of a second orgasm so quickly but when he sunk his middle finger into you at the same pace his tongue was working at, you were screaming his name into the extractor fan above before you knew it. You felt waves of liquid cascade from your pussy as he gently lapped up the produce of his work from you. You flinched in overstimulation but he cleaned up every last drop tenderly before carefully closing your legs and pivoting you round to your previous sitting up position on the counter. Neither of you had spoken a word since you came but as he leads your arms to drape over your shoulders, holding your fucked out body against his chest whilst peppering your temple with soft pecks . Then he kisses you intensely, letting you taste the sweet juices of yourself on his lips. You hummed in approval of the sweet taste as you came round.

A few minutes of carnal making out and things were heating up again. Your hands cupping his jaw then sliding to graze fingernails up and down his back, digging them in a little harder now and again and causing goosebumps to pierce through the skin rapidly under your touch.

You could feel him swallowing down grunts from the friction he was getting from his shorts covered cock brushing up and down between your slick folds.

He'd made you cum twice. Hard. He always got off of making his partners cum of course, so he was feeling beyond turned on and the slight heat of your glistening folds against his length was almostvsending him over the edge.

"I want you inside me" you whispered against his lips desperately.

No sooner had you said the words, his left hand was frantically searching through the vanities top drawer in hope. Finding a packet, checking the date quickly then tearing it between his teeth, spitting the seal onto the floor and pushing his shorts to his ankles, stepping out of them at speed before kicking them away.

He smirked when he caught your eyes bulge at his cock. He knew it was above average but the reaction was always a further compliment he thought.

Stepping forward he put on a show of putting the condom on, first rubbing the drops of sticky pre cum at the head and down his length keeping his eyes locked to yours as you wriggled on the counter with anticipation. He whined a little as it squeezed him rolling it on, so red and over sensitive from turning you on. So that's why, when you grabbed for it, he stilled your hand. Dimples appearing back in his cheeks as you looked again in confusion. He kisses you, languishing the moment before grabbing you forward from the countertop to the floor again, still keeping your lips attached. He lightly grips at your hips and turns you round to face the mirror once more.

Harry lightly grabs your throat, and the way you whimper and push your ass back against him, makes him mentally bank that idea for later perhaps. He runs his left hand up the column of your neck lightly holding your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him with his hand on your face and the other already working up and down your folds.

"I want you to watch us. Want you to watch yourself come apart. Want to watch you cum around my cock yeah? " he whispers in your ear. You noticeably shiver with excitement of what's to come.

"Please Harry, please, need it, need you."

You watch yourself babble and beg for his cock. The pathetic whimper from yourself as you try and circle your ass into his crotch again to encourage it happening. You were never patient and he's driving you insane here.

Bringing two fingers infront of your lips as you watch yourself in the mirror he looks you dead in the eye through the reflection.

"Spit" so you do, "good girl" he says kissing your cheek. His saliva lubed fingers are back rubbing your clit quickly whilst his knee nudges the back of yours to spread your feet wider as he kisses the back of your neck and shoulders. When he pauses next you're not expecting the hard thrust of him entering you entirely, sure you were dripping wet with the result of two orgasms but you cry out in a mix of stretch and pleasure as he pounds into you at a furious pace. His spare hand not on your clit is holding the bottom of your spine down as he keeps up his rhythm. His pace was that of a man desperate for release after watching you fall apart on his fingers and tongue. The build up meant he was already close as you tight walls fluttered around him. He pleads with you to stop tightening your walls around him or he's not going to last he whimpers.

You were already close again, you'd never cum this many times or this quickly in your life but you were ready for another round and by the sounds of him and the stutter his pace kept slipping you knew he was close too.

You quickly removed his hand, sucking your own fingers into your mouth to replace his own at your clit.

"M'gonna cum, but… OhOh fuck.. But need you harder. Deeper" you manage to get out.

He grunts a curse before squeezing your hips at a pressure that will leave marks tomorrow but the delight in the speed he was now able to snap his hips against the swells of your ass, was well worth it. It only took a few more seconds with the fingers that knew you best, for you to gush against his cock. Feeling absolutely exhausted you slump your sweaty chest onto the cold counter.

His orgasm taking him by surprise when you clenched up to milk him dry. He all but shouts your name as his hips stutter and you feel the warmth of his cum fill the one barrier between you.

His lips were back on your sweaty neck for a second whilst he disposed of the used condom. He ran the walk in shower and wordlessly you took his offered hand to join him under the hot spray. You'd never had an encounter end like this before not that you were a seasoned professional but after 3 orgasms the way his hands moved round your body under the water, washing away your antics with sweet strawberry-banana smelling suds on the flannel, left you with a warm floaty feeling the worn off alcohol never had.

He gently wipes your makeup from under your eyes then, smiling at the cute way your nose wrinkles slightly as he rubs at each eyebrow.

"I don't even have words" you finally laugh out blushing, not able to stand his gauge as you say it.

"Oh. So that's how to make that smart mouth o'yours stop is it? " he grins, you gasp in mock offense and go to say something but going under your chin with his thumb with his forefinger to connect your lips under the warm water spray he kisses you when you pull away you can't help but ask.

"So does this make us even on one ruined fancy vest then?"

"Hmmmm" he ponders with both hands on your face looking at the ceiling out if the falling water. " I'm not sure, I mean it was a custom, pretty high going rate those yeah"

"Yeahhhh you're right, you're right. Better factor in the cost of the custom job then hadn't I huh?"

You hurriedly sink to your knees on the tiled floor.

#harry styles #1d #harries #one direction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fandom #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #summer feeling fic challenge

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otakutrashwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Vhenan'ara

The Inquisitor started his morning just like any other at Skyhold: walking the grounds to see if anyone needed anything from him. Almost always, someone did. Today, it was The Iron Bull that approached him.

“Inquisitor, do you have a moment?” Bull inquired.

“What can I do for you, Bull?” I replied, always trying to be kind and courteous, even though I was hoping no one would need anything today, at least no so soon in the day.

“I recently heard about a dragon that lives on the Storm Coast and I wanted to see if you would like to come kill it with me!” The excitement was clear in Bull’s voice. Always ready and willing to hunt dragons.

“I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know I’m always down to go dragon hunting, so of course I would. Anyone in particular you would like us to bring along?”

Bull thought for a moment, fingers stroking an imaginary beard.

“We could bring along Dorian and Varric, if not for their skills, but for the witty banter that always seems to happen whenever the two of them are together!”

The thought of Dorian coming to the Storm Coast and being in the absolute downpour made me laugh. He would most likely complain the entire time, but I found the thought of it quite endearing. We had slowly become closer over the weeks, sharing chaste kisses in secret, but I wanted more, wanted us to BE more, but it felt like he was holding back. For what reason, I had nary a clue.

“Sounds like a good time! Why don’t you head to the tavern while I chase those two down and see if they will be willing to come with us? I will meet you there later, hopefully with them, to discuss a good time to leave,” I said.

“Don’t blame me if I’m drunk by the time you get there!” Bull replied, before turning with a slight wave. “See you then, Inquisitor.”

I’ll go find Varric first. He’ll be quite a bit easier to convince than Dorian.

I walked into the main hall in search of Varric, hoping he’d be exactly where he usually is, and I was lucky enough to be correct.

“Inquisitor! What brings you to talk to little ‘ole me?” Varric asked with that cheeky grin he almost always has plastered on his face.

“I actually came to see if you would like to accompany The Iron Bull and I on a dragon hunting excursion on the Storm Coast? Could provide some interesting tales for a new book,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows at him, hoping it would be enough to convince him to come along.

“You and Bull, huh? Anyone else going to be joining us? Sparkles, maybe? I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Varric replied with a smirk.

I rubbed my hand on the back of my neck, looking down as I felt a warmth on my cheeks. I’m blushing. Dammit, I hope Varric doesn’t see, because he’ll never let me live it down if he knows he’s right. Luckily, he didn’t say anything about it.

“I was actually going to head up to the library to talk to him after finding you. If you plan on coming along, you can join Bull in the tavern. I will meet you two there, hopefully with Dorian.”

With a wave to Varric, I headed upstairs to the library, praying to the Creators that Dorian would be in his usual spot, but also hoping he wouldn’t be. Every time I saw him, my heart would beat a little faster, and I had to keep myself from stumbling over my own words.

As if the Creators heard my prayer, Dorian was exactly where he usually is.

“Ah, Inquisitor, to what do I owe this fine pleasure of seeing you this morning?” Dorian asked, a wide smile on his face.

Evanuris, that man’s voice is like honey, sweet to my ears. I could wake up to that every morning and be the happiest man to ever live. I shook my head, snapping me out of my own thoughts, causing Dorian to give me a quizzical look. I could eat him up.

“I came to see if you would like to join Bull, Varric, and I on a mission to the Storm Coast? Bull heard about a dragon out there and wanted to go on a hunt.”

A flash of disdain crossed Dorian’s face before returning to his usual smile.

“Did everyone else say no? Surely I could not have been your first choice to go somewhere so...dreary.”

“Bull requested both you and Varric to tag along, actually. The mission was his idea, so I left the decision of companions up to him. If you don’t want to go, I can ask Bull if he has anyone else in-”

“No!” Dorian cut me off. “Ah, I mean, that won’t be necessary, I will join you.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Very well. Would you like to accompany me to the tavern, then? Bull and Varric should already be waiting for us there.”

Varric sat across from The Iron Bull in the tavern.

“Do you really think this will work?” Bull asked.

“I’ve seen the way those two look at each other when they think the other isn’t looking. My romance novels might not be my best works, but I know that shit when I see it,” he replied.

“Yeah, but the Storm Coast? Dorian might be too busy complaining to even think about flirting with the Inquisitor.”

“It’s not about them flirting, it’s about the danger of the mission getting the adrenaline pumping so they’ll just fuck and get rid of all that damned sexual tension!”

Glossary

Vhenan’ara - heart’s desire

Evanuris - leaders. What the elves/elvhen called their elven pantheon/gods.

#dorian pavus x male lavellan #male inquisitor #male lavellan #dorian pavus #varric tethras #the iron bull #dragon age #dragon age inquisition

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beware-of-you-98 · 4 years ago

Text

rank list based on who in the bau gives the best cuddles + what type of cuddler they are :)

she’s 100% is the go to person for platonic cuddles, especially if penelope isn’t around

everyone on the team goes to jj if they need a really good cuddle

emily cuddles with jj to and from cases on the jet [and at night in their bed, but te team doesn’t have to know that] but penelope calls dibs on girl’s nights

derek has been on the receiving end of a few jj cuddles if a case hits him too hard

even spencer will endulge himself with a jj cuddle once in a while because his best friend gives the best cuddles (don’t tell penelope or derek)

she’s a mom™️ cuddler and will wrap up the other person so tightly in her arms and rub their back/run her fingers through her hair and it makes them feel so safe and secure

hotch has only been on the receiving end of a jj cuddle once (a few weeks after foyet and haley) but he was very grateful for it, even if he won’t admit it out loud

she’s also the type to give in 100% when cuddling and will snuggle her whole body flush against the other person’s side and wrap her arms tightly around their waist, legs tucked up against their side

(the only people to ever be on the receiving end of that type of jj cuddle are penelope, emily and elle when she was on the team)

there’s an unspoken agreement between everyone that jj gives the best cuddles, only because almost everyone’s been on the receiving end of one

penelope

omg she literally will put her all into a cuddle

she’ll squish up with whoever she’s cuddling and make sure they’re just as comfortable as her

she has both arms thrown around them, tangles their legs together (and if it’s jj or morgan, she’ll hold their hand and lock their fingers together)

everyone that thinks jj is the best cuddler hasn’t been on the receiving end of a penelope cuddle (in jj’s opinion, though penelope swears her friend’s cuddles are better than her own)

(emily’s biased bc she’s a simp for one (1) blonde hair, blue eyed media-liason-turned-profiler but she does love a good penelope garcia cuddle every so often)

jj herself swears by penelope and her cuddles

she’s so clingy!!! but it’s 100% the best thing bc no one can be at the receiving end of a penelope cuddle and not feel the stresses of the world immediately fall off their shoulder

she also 300% gives whoever she’s cuddling with kisses on their cheek and constantly reminds them how great they are

derek

only two people have ever been on the recieving end of a derek morgan cuddle

those two people are penelope and spencer

he wraps penelope up in his arms and craddles her as if she’s the most precious person in the world to him [she is]

he’ll rest his chin on the top of her head and randomly gives her waist a squeeze

or will lean down and press kisses to her head

spencer is a long, tall man who does not do physical affection

however

he loves the feeling of being in derek’s arms after a long case

he’ll tuck himself up in a ball and just lean into derek’s side

derek wraps his arm around his waist and throws his jacket over spencer’s thin frame to shield him from any outside intrusion and let’s him sleep there until the jet lands

emily

emily prentiss does not do cuddles with anyone

unless she’s drunk, then she demands cuddles with penelope

she’s absolutely a clingy cuddler

like she’ll hold on to whoever’s she’s cuddling with whatever she can: her hands, arms, legs

she stuffs her face in penelope’s neck and gets emo about faking her death

and how sorry she is that she put everyone through it even if it’s been years since then

and then she rambles on about how much she loves everyone on the team [if penelope notices she spends 20 minutes rambling about how pretty jj’s eyes are, she doesn’t comment]

when she cuddles with jj, she has her legs thrown over the blonde’s, both their hands tangled together and her head resting on jj’s chest

that’s where she feels the safest 🥺

spencer

cannot cuddle to save his life

he tries his best god dammit

but his long, skinny limbs that he really doesn’t know what to do with get in the way

so he’ll just be sprawled out with derek with his arms wrapped around his waist

and his legs kicked out straight behind him bc he never knows what to do with them when he’s the one initiating the cuddles

he constantly readjusts his hold

and pout bc he doesn’t think he’s doing a good job cuddling

so derek ends up switching their position so he’s doing the cuddling

[they both prefer it like that anyway]

rossi

when i say david rossi doesn’t cuddle, i really mean david rossi doesn’t cuddle

if the team are at his house drinking, he’ll maybe, maybe, tolerate peneloe’s cuddles for a few seconds before he’s like ok i’m done u can let go of me now

it’s not that he doesn’t like physical affection

he just doesn’t do cuddles

and he shows his appreciation for the team in different ways like cooking them meals or planting kisses on their forehead or their cheeks and refer to them with italian terms of endearment and affection

the closest thing he comes to giving cuddles is giving lingering hugs but he always pulls away if he thinks it’s going on too long

(emily says dave gives dad cuddles and she only knows bc she’s the only person rossi’s hugged for longer than five seconds, so she counts it as a cuddle)

hotch

is the actual dad cuddler

the three youngest members always knew they could come to him if things got too hard back before gideon’s accident

he has a soft spot for them

they would constantly come to him if they felt too low and he would always just hold them while they cried or ranted or even just stayed silent and needed someone there for them

he’d constantly remind them how it’s okay to let something or a case get to them and that they’re allowed to be affected by things and it doesn’t mean anything other than they’re human

he’d remind them how good they are at their jobs

and how the team wouldn’t ever be as efficient if they weren’t there

penelope’s office is filled with tiny, brightly colored knick knacks that distract her from the horrors she sees every day and sometimes it’s just too much for her, especially if they don’t save a victim in time

hotch always, always, reminds her of how important she is to the team and how many more people they have saved ever since she’d joined

he finds himself amazed at how seemingly unaffected jj breezes by case after case until he catches her breaking down one day at the office

she’s exhausted and worn down and is so frustrated with herself because she knows she didn’t put her all into the last case they took and she absolutely beats herself up over it

but hotch understands

how many cases have they been on with victims that fit jj’s description to a t?

he knows that they all have cases that get to everyone on the team because they see themselves in the victims or in the unsubs

those happen maybe once or twice a year

every other case, jj fits the victimology exactly

hotch understands that is takes a toll on her, it just has to

spencer never feels like he’s a real agent or that he ever will be because he’s so much younger than everyone and because he doesn’t have a gun

he keeps failing his gun qualifications and he rambles too much and honestly he’s never taken seriously

hotch is always firm to tell him how accomplished he is at a young age

and how essential his role is to the team

after gideon’s accident, he stops giving cuddles because he needs to be more hard and serious in his role as unit chief

#criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #spencer reid #david rossi #aaron hotch hotchner #:)#jemily #morcia #moreid #i forgot derek and spencer’s ship name for a hot second and was going to put rorgan #das on big brain time

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babbushka · 4 years ago

Note

I NEED PASSOVER PROMPT ONE

(we know I love Paterson and am a sucker for anything written for him but you can decide who you’d like to write it for 🥺)

A/N: Thank you so much for asking!! Pat is such a mensch, I couldn’t resist jumping on this prompt :) I hope you enjoy it!

1.4k, no warnings just fluff and humor :) Jewish!Paterson x Jewish!Reader

He listens to the rhythmic sound of the wipers, as they steadily swish away a light rain that pitter-patters on the windshield. Paterson drives through the winding upstate New Jersey roads, you in the passenger seat next to him, and his friend Doc the bartender, in the backseat. Paterson had celebrated Pesach with you for many years now, even before you were married and he could only call you his girlfriend, but the addition of his friend is a new one.

Doc had mentioned off-handedly a couple days ago that he knew the Jewish holiday was coming up, but had never experienced it for himself. Paterson brought it up on one of his nightly visits for his single beer, and Doc had been interested enough to agree to join you and him for Seder.

Now though, as they’re all on their way to Paterson’s mom’s house, Doc realizes that he has no idea what he’s getting himself into, especially as Paterson is explaining it to him, prompting him to ask,

“What do you mean there’s fifteen steps?”

You chuckle just a little at the surprise in his voice, and even Paterson’s dimples make an appearance.

“I think last year it was three hours before we even got to eat.” He says, his eyes flicking up to Doc’s in the rearview to give him a friendly smile, “But that was because my cousin kept interrupting.”

“Three hours?” Doc groans, “Pat tell me you’re joking. I haven’t eaten all day!”

To prove his point, a loud stomach growl sounds from the backseat, and Paterson’s smile turns into a full on chuckle of his own, as you’re doing your best to not encourage him too much over in your seat. In your lap is a big Tupperware of matzah toffee, a coveted recipe that you’re tempted to let Doc try now to hold the poor man over.

“No one told you to fast.” Paterson says, his voice soft and only a little teasing, “Only the first-born in every family fasts the night before Passover.”

“Wish I had known that now, I’m starving.” Doc grumbles, his normal steady mood shifting into something a little exasperated when he wonders aloud, “What even are these fifteen steps?”

“Do you really want to know or are you just asking to ask?” You ask, finally breaking your silence. You love telling people all about Seder, love talking about the holiday. It’s one of Paterson’s favorites too, and his eyes practically light up at the thought of getting to teach his friend.

“No I want to know.” Doc scratches the back of his neck, “I did some reading but…”

“Well, it starts with the Kadesh.” You let Paterson take the lead, loving the way the deep rumble of his voice soothes your ears. He explains, “It’s a blessing over the first cup of wine, and to commemorate and sanctify the holiday. Then there’s the Urchatz, a ritual hand-washing to cleanse ourselves before we begin.”

Paterson drives steadily, carefully through the trees, remembering how he had always dreaded the next step. You pinch at his nose playfully when it crinkles up, his expression endearing.

“Next comes the Karpas, the first food that we get to eat although it isn’t really…food food. It’s a piece of green vegetable, I think we’re using parsley this year?” Paterson asks, looking at you. Sometimes you used celery, but Paterson’s mom liked to switch it up every other year. You nod, and he continues, “We dip it in salt water to represent the tears our people shed while enslaved in Egypt.”

“Damn, you guys don’t mess around huh?” Doc lets out a laugh at that, and you’re inclined to agree.

“Trust me, it gets way more dramatic.” You say, while Paterson tries to figure out how to find the detour for some road work ahead of him, “Then there’s the Yachatz, where the first piece of matzah is broken in half. The larger piece of matzah is called the afikomen, and is hidden somewhere in the house for the kids to find at the end.”

“Aw that’s pretty cute actually.” Doc smiles, and Paterson beams. He can’t wait until he has children of his own to go running through the house, wreaking havoc.

“Some families do it where the kids have to steal it off the Seder leader’s lap without them noticing, which is also really funny.” You nod, because you also agree, “But it usually distracts the kids during the Maggid, so we personally don’t do it.”

“The Maggid?”

“It’s the longest part of the Seder, this is when we read the long and drawn out story of our Exodus.” Paterson explains, “All the plagues, the slaughter of the first born – ”

“They get slaughtered and they have to fast?” Doc interrupts with raised eyebrows, “That sucks for firstborns.”

“Then we wash our hands again with the Rachtzah,” Paterson only continues with a smirk, glad that his older brother Paul has to wear the brunt of that responsibility. Nevermind that they’re twins, he’s older by two minutes, “And we’re not allowed to talk, it’s a silent hand-washing.”

“Oh do we get to eat now?” Doc’s eyes light up, as his stomach growls again.

Successfully navigating away from the road-block, you and Paterson exchange an apologetic glance.

“No,” He shakes his head, “Then we break the second matzah while saying the Motzi.”

“And then we eat the Maror, the bitter herb.” You add on, “This signifies the bitterness of slavery. Again. But after that we get to eat the Hillel sandwich.”

“Oh thank god – ”

“It’s bitter herb sandwiched between two pieces of matzah.” Paterson squashed Doc’s hopes before he even has a chance to get them too high.

“Dammit!” Doc laughs, feeling like this is the dinner that never ends. He isn’t entirely wrong, but there is relief on his face when Paterson pulls up to the drive-way, and you unbuckle your seat belt, turning over your shoulder to smile at him.

“After that you get to eat though.” You wink.

“For real this time?” Doc asks cautiously, making Paterson nod with a grin.

“For real.” He clips a yarmulke to his hair like the good boy he is, “And I promise it’s worth it.”

The three of you get out of the car, and you make sure that you have everything that you need before going in. Doc looks a little hesitant, eyeing the house that already has music and happy chatter sounding from the slightly open window.

“What do we do after we eat?” Doc asks, his hands in his pocket.

“The kids hunt for that piece of matzah, we do a final blessing after we eat called the Barech, invite a ghost in to come hang out with us and protect us, and then we sing songs.” You offer him a hand for him to hold, knowing that he must feel a little intimidated by it all.

Seder was intimidating for a lot of people, even those who had celebrated it for years. But then again, rituals are meant to be shared with family and friends, and you’re just glad Doc wanted to see for himself what it was all about.

“Did you say ghost?” Doc immediately blinks, making you laugh – it really was a silly part of the tradition, but an important one nonetheless.

“His name is Elijah, he’s really nice.” Paterson locks the car door and “When Elijah leaves though, we drink another glass of wine and dance. But by that point usually everyone is trashed enough that we all black out on the couch. It all depends.”

Approaching the front step, Doc takes in a deep breath. You slip him a piece of matzah toffee that he happily accepts, eagerly eating the dessert. His face lights up when he tastes how delicious it is, and he can’t help but smile.

“This sounds like one helluva dinner Pat, I gotta say.” Doc sounds almost impressed, that something so elaborate continues to be observed year after year after year.

“Are you ready to find out for yourself?” Paterson asks, gently nudging Doc with his elbow in a friendly gesture.

“If there’s more of this,” Doc points to the matzah toffee, “Then I’m more than ready.”

The three of you grin and Paterson steps through the threshold with your hand securely held in his, as the family welcomes you all and gives a most warm welcome to Doc, who finds that by the end of Seder after four full glasses of wine on an empty stomach, it is one helluva dinner indeed.

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

Taggin’ some Paterson lovin’ friends! @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @sunflowersinthesnow @steeevienicks @the-unmanaged-mischief @chapterhappygirl

#paterson #paterson x reader #paterson/reader #paterson x you #paterson imagine #paterson fanfic #adam driver fanfic #adcu #passover #jewish!reader #glassbxttless

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jensengirl83 · 4 years ago

Text

Regret and Redemption Chapter Three

Summary-Reader has left Dean after he was caught cheating. Dean tries to prove that he can do better and wants the reader to come back home.

AU Mechanic!Dean x reader

Word count-2592

Warnings- Angst, heartbreak, language

A/N- series cover designed and mad by @talesmaniac89

It had been a little over a week since Y/N had gone by their home that morning to get her belongings. Dean had been served with the separation papers; she knew that because he had blown up her phone with calls and texts that she hadn’t answered. She couldn’t talk to him; she was taking the separation as hard as he was, except none of this had been her fault. Or had it been? She had been pondering over their whole relationship for the last week. She had wondered if some of the reasons he cheated could have been her fault. Had she not been attentive enough? Could she have spent more time with him and less writing her novels? The scenarios had played over and over in her head, always with the same outcome. If he had a problem he should have come and talked to her, not screw his secretary and God knew who else.

Y/N had managed to find a decent apartment across town. She had picked this one simply because of the distance it was away from the home she had loved. She still couldn’t believe this had happened to her. Dean had been such a loving husband in the beginning. Y/N could see the decline in his behavior now that she looked back on it. She wished there was something she could have done to keep her marriage intact, but it was too little too late now.

Dean sat in his office staring at the separation papers that he had gotten a few days ago. His heart ached every time he looked at them. She was serious and didn’t want to be his wife anymore. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He had never felt so lonely as he had the last week she wasn’t there when he got home. The empty side of her bed had been taunting him every time he walked in the room. He had been sleeping on the couch since she left, not able to sleep in their bed alone. Dean picked up his phone and sent her another text. She hadn’t responded to him since she walked away the morning he trashed the house, but he was going to keep trying.

Y/N stood in the kitchen of her new apartment when she heard her phone ding. She knew who it was, but she wanted to make sure. She should have never unblocked his number, but her uncle advised that she needed to let him have a way to contact her for their legal proceedings. She opened her phone to look at who had texted her.

Dean: I love you Y/N and I’m sorry.

She had been right. She wanted to cry and scream at the same time. Her heart ached as she missed her husband, but she also was beyond angry at him. Her emotions had been all over the place the last week. The nights were the hardest. She had not slept alone in over six years. Even with what he had done, she missed his warmth at night. He had betrayed her, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t once loved him with her whole being and missed the feeling of his body cuddled behind hers. She had been brought back from her daydream by the sound of her phone.

“Hello Dean,” Y/n said with annoyance evident in her voice.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean said, hoping she wouldn’t hang up on him.

“Please don’t call me that Dean,” Y/N sighed. “We aren’t together anymore.”

“Yes, we are Y/N! You didn’t file for divorce. You filed for separation,” he said, a little annoyed himself.

“Obviously you got the papers but decided not to read them,” she said harshly. “We are legally separated, Dean. That means we are not considered married, but not divorced.”

“What the hell is the point in that?! Why not just file for divorce?” Dean asked her, not understanding the point.

“Because my uncle and my publicist thought this would be the best thing right now for tax purposes. It’s just until my new book comes out and we can figure out what we are going to do with our assets,” she said, “then I will file for a divorce, Dean.”

“You sure that’s what you want, Y/N?” Dean asked her through clenched teeth.

“No Dean, this isn’t what I wanted! I wanted my husband to love me and be faithful to me, but that was obviously too much to ask of you!” Y/N yelled through the phone.

“I do love you Y/N!” Dean shouted back.

“You know how much I wish it would have been enough?” Y/N said through tears as she hung up the phone.

Dean threw his phone across his office after she had hung up. Her words had destroyed him, the truth in them cutting to the bone. He realized at that moment that he hadn’t loved her enough. She hadn’t had his whole heart in a long time and that had been his fault. The booze and the ego boost he had been getting from other women had taken a spot that should have been completely hers.

The next week had flown by and Y/N was grateful. She had been so busy with her publicist getting everything ready for her book launch that she hadn’t had time to ponder on her situation much. Her publicist had set up a book launch party at a huge venue in Kansas City. She didn’t want to throw a party with the mood she had been in, but her publicist said it would really help get the word out. The release party had been scheduled for the following night and she wasn’t looking forward to it. She decided to go to bed and try to get some sleep so she would at least look like her life was together the next evening.

She woke up the next morning with a horrible feeling of dread. She couldn’t quite place it, but she felt like something was going to happen that night. She tried to shake the thought away as she made her way to the shower to get the day going. She had to get all dolled up and that took time and the venue was a four-hour drive. Luckily her publicist had hired her a private car so she could relax on the way there.

Y/N had caught up on her emails and went over her itinerary on the drive, anything to keep her mind occupied. Dean had always accompanied her to this type of thing because he knew they sometimes triggered her anxiety. He had at least been good to her in that way. If only he hadn’t betrayed her and broke her heart, she wouldn’t have to do this alone tonight.

Y/N could feel the anxiety building as they pulled up to the venue. There was already a crowd that had formed outside and all she could think was that she would rather be home. She held her breath as the driver came to open her door for her to step out. She took his hand as he helped her out onto the sidewalk and into the throngs of people. In all the hecticness of trying to get inside, she hadn’t noticed the sleek black Impala parked across the street.

Dean stood back in a corner with a whiskey in his hand as she walked through the door. She looked absolutely beautiful. His heart pounded in his chest, and he hoped she wouldn’t make a scene when she realized he was here. He knew what these things did to her anxiety and he wanted to prove that he still loved her and wanted to be there for her, to show her that he could be the man he was when they had first started dating. He silently prayed that he could prove himself to her.

Dean watched her for a while as she made her way around the room. Y/N had always been the sweet ‘girl next door’ type. No one around her could tell how uncomfortable all this made her, but he could. He could see the nervous twitch in her hands and hear how her voice would rise an octave as she spoke. He had always found that so endearing about her. She would never see herself as the beautiful, intelligent, joyful woman that she was. He had taken that joy from her and he would never forgive himself for that.

“Hi, Y/N! I am so excited to read your new book!” a woman she didn’t know had said to her.

“Thank you. I really hope you enjoy it,” Y/N said with a nervous smile. God, she hated to do stuff like this.

“Hey Y/N. I’m looking forward to the new book. Where’s Dean?” she had heard someone ask. Y/N was frozen to her spot. She didn’t want to talk about her failed marriage to people she barely knew.

“I’m sorry I’m late sweetheart! Traffic was just awful,” his voice had her spinning on her heels. There stood Dean in his three-piece suit.

“What the hell are you doing here Dean?” she whispered in his ear as she leaned in to give him a hug. She didn’t want anyone asking questions about their marriage.

“Y’all mind if I steal my beautiful wife away for a minute?” Dean asked with a fake smile.

Everyone nodded as he linked her arm through his and walked her to a more private place to talk. He could feel how tense she was and knew most of that was because of him, but he knew she wouldn’t make too much of a scene.

“What the hell Dean?!” she asked as they rounded the corner into an empty hallway. “How did you even know about this?!”

“I got an email. You forgot to unlink my email from your list on your itinerary,” Dean said with a small chuckle.

“Dammit! I knew I was forgetting something... but why did you show up?” Y/N asked him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I know how you get when you have to do this stuff. I wanted to be here for you and I’m sure you didn’t want to answer questions about us tonight,” he said, trying to be honest with her.

“Sure Dean, you showing up here is all about me,” she said as she rolled her eyes.

“I know you don’t believe me, sweetheart...” he was cut off by the glare she was giving him. “Sorry, Y/N. I’m telling you the truth though. I was worried about you and I want to try and prove to you that I’m sorry,” Dean said sadly.

“Dean, I don’t know what to tell you. You broke me. I will never be able to trust you again,” she said as she looked away.

“I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m just asking you to give me a chance to prove that I know I fucked up!” Dean said, almost begging her.

“It won’t change anything Dean. We aren’t going to ever be together again,” she fought back tears as she said those words.

“At least let me play your husband for the rest of the night. I don’t want everyone knowing what’s going on until we have everything figured out,” he said as he reached out his hand.

Y/N looked at Dean and to his hand quite a few times before she finally took his hand. They walked back out to the main hall to the crowd of people that were there for her. She had to stop and talk to a few people as Dean looked around the venue. It had been decorated a lot like their wedding reception had. That thought gave him an idea as he excused himself and snuck to the sound booth.

Y/N had been talking to people for what seemed like an eternity. She had finally made her way to the bar that had been set up to get a drink. Y/N had never been much of a drinker, but she felt like she could use a gallon of it tonight. She had been looking around to see if she could find where Dean had gone when his voice beside her made her jump.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dean said with a laugh.

“It’s ok, I wasn’t expecting you to be right beside me. What were you saying?” she asked, taking a drink of her whiskey.

“I said that the night is almost over, and we haven’t danced,” he said to her with that crooked smile she loved so much.

“Yeah, and we aren’t going to,” she said, looking out at all the people on the dance floor that had been set up.

“Don’t you think people will find it odd that you didn’t dance with your husband? Considering we have always danced together at these things,” Dean whispered in her ear.

“Fine! No funny business Dean. I want to get this over with and go home,” Y/N said as she held her hand out to him.

Dean led her onto the dance floor. He placed her arms around his neck and then slid his hands down to her hips. He started to lightly sway them to the beat as he looked over her shoulder and nodded. Y/N had noticed but didn’t care to ask. He had probably just seen someone he knew. The notes to the song faded away as the notes to the next one began. It had only taken her seconds to recognize the melody: “Wild Horses” by The Rolling Stones. It was their wedding song, the first song they had danced to as husband and wife.

Dean felt her tense as the song began to play. He had hoped that hearing it would bring back good memories and make her miss what they had. He wrapped his arms around her tighter to hold her to him, afraid she would run if he didn’t. He could hear the sniffles and feel her tears on his chest. His heart was breaking, this had not gone as planned. He hadn’t even finished his thought when she pulled away and ran for the door. Dean was right behind her; he grabbed her arm as she was reaching for the car door.

“Y/N, please just wait!” Dean begged her.

“No! How could you do that to me? Did you really think that playing our wedding song was going to make me come back to you after what you did? Let go of me!” she yelled as she yanked her arm away from him.

“Baby, please! I miss you, Y/N! I fucking miss my wife!” Dean shouted as she opened the car door to get in.

“You should have thought about that before you cheated on me, Dean! Please, just get away from me,” she said, completely defeated.

The look on her face and the desperation in her voice made him step back. He stood on the sidewalk and watched as she disappeared. This had completely backfired. He just wanted his wife back and would do anything to prove it to her. He knew what he had to do, but was terrified to make the call. Dean pulled out his phone and dialed the number and listened as the phone began to ring.

“Please don’t hang up! I really need your help!” he pleaded to the person on the other end of the phone. “I know I have no right to ask you, but she will listen to you. Will you help me please?”

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years ago

Text

A new us will begin (5/ 11)

AO3

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 6

word count: 5.7k

Content warnings: mentioned character death, funeral (kind of), mentions of dying alone, mention of child death, survivor’s guilt, visiting graves, guilt

Why did it hurt so much to listen to Yarrow’s retreating steps? Why did Geralt jump to his feet and press himself against the door, even though he knew it was too late to even catch a glimpse at that strange man?

He knew why. He knew it, and he hated the answer, hated himself for even considering such an impossible thing.

The truth, shameful and better locked away in the back of his mind, was that Yarrow reminded him of Jaskier.

There was a reason why Geralt had avoided talking to people as much as he could, why he never stayed in one place for too long and made a point of not looking at flowers or any other pretty thing he would come across.

There was always that chance that he would find something, some small detail that reminded him of the one he had lost. Any smile would send a pang through his chest, because it made him think of the smile he had woken up to every morning for so long. Every place that had a bard made him immediately compare them to the only bard that had ever managed to make Geralt close his eyes and get lost in the music. Every songbird, flower or pretty cloud made it painfully obvious that now there wasn’t anyone by his side anymore to point those things out to him.

Yarrow probably would have. If they had met out there and not in these cells where there was nothing but grey stone and darkness. The man who had so annoyingly insisted on talking to him – and wasn’t that just like someone else Geralt had known once? – was an artist. Surely, he would stop to stare at every flower and every other interesting thing he noticed. Just like Jaskier had always done.

The two of them would have liked each other, if they had lived at the same time. With a soft huff, Geralt’s lips twitched upwards. Yarrow’s enthusiasm when he had talked about his art could rival Jaskier’s. Maybe they would have become the best of friends over their shared love for the arts. Or maybe they would have become bitter rivals because they had different views on an art piece or the other talked too much.

And gods, even just the two days that Geralt had known Yarrow, it had seemed as if the artist didn’t know how to shut up. Or as if he had been desperate to say anything he could as fast as possible in case he wouldn’t get the chance to say it later.

It shouldn’t have been endearing, but fuck if it wasn’t soothing Geralt’s battered heart to have someone talk to him. He hadn’t known just how much he had missed that.

He missed Jaskier.

Just for a second, a torturous, beautiful second he had found a small piece of him in this stranger, who insisted on becoming Geralt’s friend. Geralt had no delusions about that becoming a reality. He had meant it when he had said that he didn’t want friends. He knew where such a thing would end. In death and heartbreak. Even if Geralt had been willing to risk that, there was no mistaking that Yarrow would take one look at him and turn away. Just because he was lonely and desperate for conversation while in his cell, didn’t mean that he would want anything to do with him once he got to go back to his family and real friends.

The thought made something twist in his stomach. It was nice to think that Yarrow had someone to come back to. He should have someone like that. But dammit, it made Geralt miss his family all the more. Too often did he force himself to stay on the Path for however long he could, always desperate to fight as many monsters as possible, to save as many people. As if that could erase all the wrongs he had done. He would hunt monsters until snow fell and he was forced to realise that he wouldn’t make it to Kaer Morhen in time. He was aware that his brothers and Vesemir must worry about him if he didn’t show up, so he always made sure to come home every other couple of years, just to let them know that he was still alive and to see for himself that nothing had happened to them, but those years were still few and far between.

Talking with Yarrow and listening to him had almost made him feel as if he was with his family, hearing tales of what they had done on the Path.

It hadn’t been fair to either Yarrow or himself, but as the artist had talked, Geralt had closed his eyes and been able to imagine just for a little while that it hadn’t been Yarrow who’d been talking.

Then he had started to sing and Geralt’s chest had split in two. Yarrow’s voice was clearly untrained, but the emotion in it, the meaning he gave the words and the melody had been so like Jaskier’s singing that Geralt hadn’t been able to hold back dry sobs. It was just a song, but a song lost to time, twisted and turned into jigs or maudlin ballads instead of the simple comforting lullaby that it had always been meant to be. Geralt had thought the real song had died with Jaskier. It was a wonder even the one line Yarrow had sung had survived that long in this way and it had hit Geralt like a bucket of ice being emptied over his head, leaving him gasping for breath and yearning for warmth. He hadn’t dared hope to ever have this song sung to him again. It hurt. More than he could describe, but he had needed more; his whole being had been desperate for more. He had been so full of the unrestrainable need to make himself forget that it wasn’t Jaskier singing. For a moment, it had been so easy to forget. And so painful when he had remembered.

Geralt was a fool for fantasising about meeting Jaskier again, that through some twist of fate or magic, he would ever be able to hear Jaskier sing again. It was madness. It was a dream. One that crept up on Geralt in the days he sat alone in his cell after Yarrow had left, time and time again until he was barely able to remind himself that it couldn’t be real. He wanted it to be real. He wanted to dream.

Then there was that last thing Yarrow had said to him, “See you around”. It had hurt to hear those words. They were normal, everyday words. Everybody used them, but Geralt couldn’t help but wish that somehow they had been more. If not an impossible possibility, then at least a promise. Yarrow wasn’t Jaskier, Geralt couldn’t ever forget that. But perhaps, he could do what Yarrow had promised him and see him around again, even if it would tear him apart.

It was madness, but with every minute he sat in silence, the resolve became hard as stone; Once Geralt finally got out of here, he would go find Yarrow, however slim the chance was that the artist would want him around once he saw him.

When Geralt finally got released from the cell after a week on his own, he told himself that he wasn’t anxious. He had spent longer stretches of time in prison before, but those seven days thinking about Jaskier and debating whether or not to seek out Yarrow once he was free to go, felt longer than any other time before.

The problem was, now that he was free, he had no idea where to look for the artist. As much as Yarrow had talked, he hadn’t mentioned where he lived even once. For hours, Geralt tried searching for places that might be considered inspiring, but no matter where, he couldn’t find the artist. He told himself he wasn’t disappointed. The town might not be that big, but there was still plenty of places that Yarrow could be.

Yet with every minute Geralt tried and failed to find the man, who had said they could be friends, his stomach twisted into tighter knots and Geralt’s resolve to find him began to crumble. Because, that was the thing; he had no way of actually finding him. He had no idea what Yarrow looked like, what he wore, how he behaved when he wasn’t in a cell. The brief glimpse Geralt had gotten of him amidst the chaos of the festival hadn’t been enough. Back then, Geralt had been far too preoccupied with calming Roach than to pay any attention to the drunk man that had been dragged away by the guards that would later come for Geralt once he had made sure Roach wouldn’t cause any more trouble.

Geralt on the other hand, was unmistakable. Yarrow didn’t need to know what he looked like in order to recognise him. There was no way he would see his hulking figure, his unnaturally white hair and the scars and not know who he was.

All Geralt could do to find Yarrow, was walk around and hope that the artist found him and pray that Yarrow would be brave enough to approach him. Then again, it wasn’t unlikely that he had already passed Yarrow unknowingly and that the artist had taken one look at Geralt and realised just how stupid it was to want to befriend someone like him.

Geralt had no way of knowing if that was what had happened for sure, but the longer he walked around aimlessly, the more the creeping fear turned into ice-cold certainty.

The bitter taste of disappointment filled Geralt’s mouth. How could he have been so stupid to think he might find another friend? How could he have been so reckless to let himself want another friend? He knew where such a thing would end, in heartbreak, misery and death. It was better that Yarrow wanted nothing to do with him, now that they weren’t forced to be in each other’s company.

As Geralt walked back to the inn, where he hoped Roach had found some shelter until he returned, he kept his eyes to the ground, pointedly avoiding all eye-contact with the townsfolk, just in case one of them would stare at him with something akin to recognition that would turn into disgust.

The familiar sight of Roach made something warm blossom in his chest. At least she would stay with him. He didn’t need anyone else. The mare greeted him with a soft snort and butted her head against his chest.

A small smile tugged at Geralt’s lips.

“I missed you too,” he said. “Sorry for being away for that long.”

A deep-rooted worry dislodged inside him when he looked her over. The innkeeper might not have been selfless enough to give Roach a box in the stables, but at least someone – probably a stable hand – had made sure to unsaddle her, brush her down and feed her. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least she didn’t have to suffer negligence because of what Geralt was.

He patted her neck and froze. It took him a second to realise what made him halt, but when he did, his heart began racing.

There were braids in Roach’s mane. They must have been put there days ago, loose and almost gone as they were. But it was unmistakable that someone had plaited her mane. No, not someone, not just anyone. Yarrow.

The certainty flared up in Geralt’s chest, racing through his blood like a wildfire.

Yarrow had been here. He had been the one to take care of Roach. Geralt’s breath hitched. What if Yarrow had waited for him? But if so, then why wasn’t he here anymore?

Geralt’s jaw clenched. There were too many possible reasons. Geralt had taken too long and Yarrow had come to his mind and left. Yarrow could have just had to go back to his job and other responsibilities. Or perhaps it had something to do with the fading smell of sickness that clung to the air. If someone had gotten ill around here, Geralt couldn’t fault Yarrow for not wanting to stick around lest he caught the sickness too.

Still, Geralt couldn’t help but wonder and hope that Yarrow might come back in a bit. It wouldn’t hurt to stay in this town a day longer, just in case.

His hope was crushed all too soon. After not even an hour of waiting, a couple walked by and threw not so subtle looks of disdain at him, before hurrying away and muttering to each other, evidently under the impression that Geralt couldn’t still hear them.

“Is that the one that good-for-nothing idiot has been waiting for?”

A dismissive laugh. “Figures he would show up just after that guy lost his patience. Haven’t seen him around since yesterday.”

“Good for him, I say. Have you seen that man?” A nod back at Geralt. “That’s the witcher. Leaving before he could show up was the only good decision that wanna-be artist ever made in his life.”

“Wait, I thought the witcher was still in prison. Are they crazy to let him go free? What if he decides to attack someone again?”

The woman threw a quick glance over her shoulder, but averted her eyes again as soon as she noticed Geralt looking at her. She grasped the arm of her companion and hurried them along.

Geralt’s heart sunk and he turned away abruptly. He didn’t need to linger any longer. He’d heard more than enough.

“Guess it’s just you and me again,” he said to Roach, stroking her nostrils.

It was better this way. At least with Yarrow gone, the artist wouldn’t have to listen to people talk about him as if he were scum just for knowing a witcher. Without travelling with Geralt, Yarrow wouldn’t get chased out of towns or spat at like Jaskier had been far more often than he would have otherwise. Without Geralt’s presence bearing down on him, Yarrow was free to pursue his dreams, to draw eyes and gush about how much he loved the arts.

Expecting him to come with him wouldn’t have been fair anyway. Geralt wouldn’t be a good companion or friend. It was a truth etched deep into his soul, painted onto his body with every scar.

There would never be anyone who could be a replacement for Jaskier, but that was all Geralt would have been able to see in Yarrow. The song, the way he talked and the readiness to get to know him, had made sure of that. Yarrow was too much like Jaskier, the one Geralt actually wanted in his life.

With harsh movements, Geralt saddled Roach and swung himself onto her back. He didn’t look back as he left town. That didn’t stop him from wondering if Yarrow was in one of the houses he passed, if maybe the passer-by had been wrong and Yarrow hadn’t given up on waiting for Geralt and was walking back to the inn while Geralt was going further away from it.

He didn’t let these thoughts stop him, only halting once he had passed the town walls. It wasn’t so much Geralt’s own choice, but suddenly, Roach started bucking, refusing to walk a single step further in the direction Geralt tried to lead her. After a minute of arguing, Geralt succumbed to his fate and let Roach decide on the way. As stubborn as she sometimes could be, Geralt trusted her instincts. And strangely enough, now that he wasn’t so focussed on getting away as fast as he could, Geralt noticed the slightest tug in his chest, urging him to where Roach was already straining to go.

When Roach finally slowed, it took Geralt a moment to realise what this place was. A small stone wall stood before him and behind that…

Ice splintered in Geralt’s chest. Without knowing what he was doing, Geralt dismounted Roach and walked towards the gate in the wall like in a trance.

He pushed the gate open, dread pooling in his stomach. The cold certainty of what this place was washed over him, even before he laid eyes on the rows of tombstones. This was a cemetery.

It wasn’t unusual for towns to have their cemetery outside of their town walls, which had always made it easier for Geralt to do his job whenever he was hunting ghouls or other necrophages. For a moment, he thought that was what had brought him here, some sort of hunter instinct telling him that there was a monster here, but his medallion remained unmoving against his chest.

With measured steps, he walked through the rows, aimlessly but with unnatural fear sending chills up his spine.

Then he heard it. The grunts and noises of a man driving a shovel in the ground. Geralt followed the noise, dreading what he was about to find, but unable to stop himself from continuing onwards.

When he reached the source of the noise, the undertaker looked up at him with the bleary eyes of a man, who had hoped he wouldn’t have to work that day. The expression made unreasonable anger flare up in Geralt. He must not have been able to control his expression as well as he thought, for the undertaker visibly sobered up and reeled back.

“I’m sorry.” He took the shovel in one hand and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “If I had known anyone would come to the funeral, I would have waited.”

Geralt scowled. “No one came?”

It shouldn’t have bothered Geralt as much as it did. For most of his life, Geralt had been living in the certainty that he could count himself lucky if he even got buried at all and not just left to rot where he would die or be thrown in a ditch. Yet, there was something utterly wrong with just the two of them standing in front of this fresh grave; a stranger and an undertaker. One here by chance, the other for a job he didn’t want to do.

The undertaker shrugged. “Didn’t have any friends here, this one. Family didn’t care much for him either. Think they might even live somewhere else, but I never cared enough to ask.” He leaned on his shovel, as if this was just a normal conversation. “The innkeeper of the Sleeping Hare came to me this morning, telling me to get the body out of the room…”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “He was a traveller then?”

The undertaker huffed. “He wasn’t anyone, really. No one important. ” He caught Geralt’s gaze and blinked, taken aback by what he found in Geralt’s expression, before adding hastily, “Not to talk bad of the dead, of course. I’m sure he was a good fellow… anyway, my job here is done. I should probably leave you to…your mourning. I suppose.”

Geralt didn’t reply. As the undertaker shuffled away awkwardly, Geralt’s eyes were transfixed on the headstone. It was plane, just like the grave itself. No decorations, no meaningful words. Just a name and two dates.

Yarrow.

Geralt had known. Somehow, he had known that this was the name he would find on the tombstone, and yet, seeing it written there, broke something within him. He hadn’t known Yarrow for long enough to really grieve for him, but seeing that no one else did….it wasn’t right. It wasn’t what Yarrow deserved. He had been so full of life and excitement when he had spoken of the things he had loved. He had been so adamant about making Geralt feel less alone.

And now here he was, alone in the earth, with no one but Geralt to visit his grave.

This was where they always ended up, wasn’t it? This was the reason why Geralt hadn’t wanted another companion, because sooner or later, they would end up exactly like this.

Geralt wished it had been later for Yarrow, just a few merciful years more. If this was how it was always going to end, then at least Yarrow could have gotten to have a friend, as bad a companion as Geralt was. It would have been something at least.

Geralt’s eyes drifted down to the dates. Yarrow had been so young, barely in his twenties. Too young to die. Life wasn’t fair, but why did it have to be so cruel? Why did it have to take and take and never stop taking?

Geralt didn’t have a scar for this life that had been taken. Not a visible one at least. He almost wished he had one. If only so he’d have something to remember the man who had insisted on being his friend by.

Could they have become friends, if Geralt had given Yarrow any sort of reassurance that he would come for him? Could Geralt have found a way to be good for him?

He didn’t think so, but now he would never know. All he knew was that he would continue to be alone and so would Yarrow, once Geralt left his grave’s side. If anyone came by per chance while visiting someone else’s grave, all they would know about Yarrow would be his name, how short his life had been and that no one cared enough about him to leave him flowers. They would know nothing more. Not what he had been, not what he had meant to anyone.

Geralt hesitated. There probably was a law of respect about tampering with gravestones, but there was no one around to see, no one to care.

Slowly and with his heart hammering painfully against his ribs, he pulled out his hunting knife. What he was about to do, would dull his knife beyond saving, but just this once, Geralt didn’t care about his weapons. All he cared about was that Yarrow shouldn’t be forgotten.

The letters he carved painstakingly into the stone weren’t pretty, but when he was finally finished, it was as if a weight was lifted of his chest.

Yarrow, artist and friend.

The words were as plain as the rest of the stone, and Yarrow surely would have complained about the lack of artistry, but it was all Geralt could give him.

For a long time, he just looked at the scripture with a strange feeling in his chest that he couldn’t quite place. For some reason, his eyes were drawn back to the first date on the stone. There was something vaguely familiar about that first date. It tugged at a memory somewhere at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t put his finger on what had happened on the day of Yarrow’s birth that made it recognisable. Something important, surely. Something historical or something personal, if Geralt remembered the date.

He shook his head. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t here to think about history. He shouldn’t let his mind drift to such things while standing over his almost-friend’s grave.

It felt awkward just standing there, silently. When he had buried Jaskier, Geralt had listened to all of Jaskier’s friends tell tales about the memories they had of Jaskier. They had spoken about his songs, his laughter, the love he had given. Geralt had been silent most of the time then too, but in his heart, he had thought about every moment he had been allowed to spend with Jaskier.

Now, though, he barely had anything to remember. He had already spent the past week thinking about Yarrow and the way his words had given Geralt comfort and had made him yearn. Yet one thing he remembered clear as day, made him stay at the grave. For just one night.

Because Yarrow had been afraid of the dark. Just as he had been afraid of being alone. It was foolish, but Geralt couldn’t leave him here in the dark all alone for his first night in the ground. So he stayed, sat down next to the grave and produced a small flame with igni, that he held in his hand until the morning dawned, just as he had done a week ago.

He didn’t sing Jaskier’s lullaby. But it was a damn near thing.

In the morning, Geralt left in search of flowers to put on the grave, to make it a little less barren and lonely. Yarrow would have liked having flowers on his grave, he was sure. So Geralt did his best to search for yarrows he could dig up with their roots mostly intact.

It felt right planting them on the grave, knowing they would continue to grow and keep Yarrow company. When he took a step back to look at his work, there was one single buttercup that he hadn’t even noticed he had taken with him as well, right in the middle of the yarrows.

For a second, his fingers twitched to tear the flower out again, but then he relaxed, even giving the flower a small smile. It looked nice there, surrounded by the bigger flowers. Almost like it belonged there.

With one last look to the gravestone, Geralt turned around, leaving this place for good.

It wasn’t until he was already a day’s ride away from the cemetery when he realised why that date on the gravestone had been so familiar to him. It had been the day Lettenhove had gone up in flames. The day of Yarrow’s birth had been the day Viscount Alfred had died.

Life continued on. It always did, at least for Geralt. He lived while the world changed and people died around him. It had always been like this. He had survived the trials, the death screams of the other boys ringing in his ears. Kaer Morhen had been sacked and almost all witchers living there slaughtered and Geralt had been among the painfully few that had survived.

Jaskier had died in his arms.

A little boy had taken his last breath right before Geralt could reach him.

A Viscount died.

Yarrow did too.

And Geralt kept on living, kept on hunting, kept on remembering every single life he had outlived. He kept on pretending that it didn’t matter to him, that he didn’t grieve for every single one of them.

He didn’t visit Yarrow’s grave. But he did go to Dol Blathanna. The valley of flowers had changed since Geralt had last been there. There must have been some sort of battle, for most of the land was scorched and no flowers bloomed there any longer. Except for that small patch near the mountains where Jaskier lay.

Geralt remembered Triss’ promise that the spell she had cast over the patch of land would keep it safe and the flowers from dying. At least one thing that wouldn’t wither away.

Geralt sank to his knees in front of the old grave the sight of which still hurt Geralt as if he had dug it this morning. There were things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the words. Not like Jaskier would have.

With a heart that felt heavy as lead and a tight throat, he stared at the dandelions blooming on the grave. Jaskier would have liked the flowers.

But he would have hated everything else. He would have wanted to stay with Geralt. He would have wanted to see him smile instead of crumbling like he did. That was all Jaskier had ever wanted for him. Not to be alone. To know that he had someone there by his side who saw him as more than just the witcher that he was.

Geralt had come so close to finding someone like that again, to fulfilling Jaskier’s wish.

“I made a friend.” His voice came out as a hoarse croak and the words felt like a lie. He hadn’t made a friend. But he had come close to it. Close enough that Jaskier would have been proud of him, surely. “His name was Yarrow.”

He let out a wet laugh. “Yeah, I know. Seems I keep stumbling about people who name themselves after flowers.” He reached out, brushing a hand over one of the few dandelions that still bloomed yellow. “You would have liked him, I think. He was an artist. He wanted me to give him a review on his works, can you believe it?” A trembling smile tugged at his lips. “For a moment there I thought he was going to ask for three words.”

With a sigh, he stood back up, going over to Roach and pulling out the sketchbook be had found in his saddlebags not a week after he had left Yarrow.

He hesitated, before sitting back down before Jaskier.

“It’s silly,” he said, running his fingers over the worn edges of the sketchbook. “But I wanted to wait looking at this until I was here with you again. You would have been able to give Yarrow a better review than I ever could. I think he would have liked you to see his drawings.”

A lump formed in his throat. It was only half the truth. Yes, it had felt wrong to look at Yarrow’s sketchbook while sitting in some rundown tavern or in a forest surrounded by cobwebs and dirt, but the other reason for waiting for so long, was that a selfish part of Geralt had been able to pretend that it wasn’t a sketchbook he was holding at all. The binding of it was so similar to the notebooks Jaskier had always favoured, that Geralt could let himself imagine it was a book of verse and not art he was carrying with him, as long as he didn’t look inside.

It had been too long since Geralt had been able to thumb through Jaskier’s notebooks. They had gotten so old that he had been forced to give them to the academy to preserve it if he didn’t want them to fall apart in his hands.

It hadn’t been fair to Yarrow to imagine it was something of Jaskier’s. So giving his drawings the right amount of appreciation now, felt all the more important.

Slowly, with trembling fingers, Geralt opened the only reminder he had of the man who could have become his friend.

At the very front of the book there was a note. Nothing special, just a plea that if anyone ever found it, they should return it to Yarrow.

It was as ordinary a note as any, and yet it made Geralt’s breath catch in his throat. He leaned in closer to the book, trying to find what was bothering him so much about the note that his heart sped up and a knot twisted in his gut.

It was…it was just wishful thinking. Geralt had spent so long imagining that it was Jaskier’s notebook that now that he saw writing in it, his eyes were playing tricks on him.

But there was no denying it; the way Yarrow had embellished some of his otherwise spidery letters was nearly identical to Jaskier’s handwriting whenever the poet had rushed to put all of his ideas down onto paper while still wanting them to look pretty.

Geralt’s fingers hovered over the note, as if afraid the resemblance would disappear if he touched the letters.

Geralt swallowed thickly, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the note. It had to be a coincidence. It had been decades since Geralt had last seen Jaskier’s writing and there were probably a lot of people with similar handwriting. It didn’t mean anything.

Just how Yarrow singing a long-forgotten lullaby didn’t mean anything.

Just how that “See you around” hadn’t meant anything.

Just how Yarrow naming himself after a yellow flower didn’t mean anything.

Just how Yarrow commenting on Roach having braids without ever having seen her with them didn’t mean anything.

It couldn’t mean anything.

Geralt squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the ball of one trembling hand against it. This was madness. He shouldn’t be even thinking about such things. Those had been coincidences. They had to have been meaningless.

If not, that would mean….if they hadn’t been coincidences, that would mean that Geralt had lost more than just another chance at having a friend. It meant that something far more beautiful and terrible was happening. A dream come true or a nightmare dragging Geralt under.

With a shuddering breath, Geralt forced his eyes open again. His heart was beating wildly and with one last hopeless look – or perhaps it was one full of fearful hope? – to Jaskier’s grave, Geralt flipped to the first page.

For an irrational second, his only though was an amused and fond Yarrow really wasn’t exaggerating when he said he loved to draw eyes.

Then, with the force of a wyvern slamming into him, Geralt’s mind caught up with what he was seeing. The hundreds of eyes that were staring up at him from the pages weren’t just any eyes. Most of them were of a rich amber colour. Witcher eyes. His eyes.

His stomach twisted and cold fear plunged its claws into Geralt’s chest as he frantically flipped through the pages, desperate to find something that proved that this wasn’t happening. That there wasn’t a connection between Jaskier and the man he had let die on his own without even calling him his friend.

But every page he saw only made the terrible certainty grow stronger. At the top of some of the pages, there were notes, like an explanation for what exactly Yarrow had drawn.

Fear.

Hurt.

Guilt.

The eyes staring up at Geralt were like a mirror image of the emotions raging through him at this very moment.

Contentment.

Laughter.

Love.

Yarrow had never seen him like that. There had been so precious few people who had ever seen his eyes the way Yarrow had painted them.

Looking at a lover while being read poetry to.

Playful annoyance at hearing a song made up of purely of puns.

They were too specific. No one could just come up with these scenarios that truly had happened to Geralt such a long time ago. Yarrow couldn’t know. He couldn’t. Not unless –

Devastation while his lover dies in his arms, wishing to see his smile just one more time and listening to the song he’s singing for him.

Not unless somehow, through some cruel twist of fate or an undeserved blessing, Yarrow had been Jaskier.

#reincarnation au #geraskier #geralt #character death #funeral #graves #guilt #fic #witcher #witcher fic #my writing #angst #fanfic

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annerbhp · 5 years ago

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how you get the girl

(Harry/Ginny, meet-cute, muggle AU)

the ice-skating ring is full of fumbling people, but Ginny finds one person in extra need of help

Hot Dad is back again, Ginny texts Demelza.

Putting down her phone, she sells a round of tickets to a loud group of teenagers, passing them off to Stephanie to get them set up with skates. Their cheeks are all red with the cold evening air, the sun having just dipped behind the buildings. Mariah Carey is crooning about Christmas over the slightly staticky speakers. It’s all perfectly cheery and lovely, and even Ginny can’t help but smile at it, this season long having been a favorite of hers, no matter how old she gets.

Which probably explains how after working full days, she still lets herself get dragged into volunteering at the seasonal outdoor ice-skating rink set up in the old city center as a way to earn money for various local charities. She’s an easy mark, which her friend running the event never fails to capitalize on.

The obvious first-date skaters are the best in the evenings, the romanticism of the idea wearing off real quick the first time one of them knocks the other down and their asses get real familiar with the unforgiving ice. Ginny likes the look on their faces when she offers them one of the walkers little kids use sometimes.

Her phone buzzes with Demelza’s response.

Okay either bang him or stop texting me because this is pathetic and you know it.

Ginny sighs. I imagine his exceptionally beautiful wife would have a problem with that.

The wife you have no idea if exists or not? Seriously, I don’t have time for this. You’re cut off talking about this.

I need a new friend.

Ha! Good luck with that.

Ginny tosses her phone down in disgust. The worst part is that Demelza is right. This is beneath her dignity. But Hot Dad has been here with his son the last four nights straight, and selling tickets and collecting used equipment isn’t all that engrossing, especially considering Ginny is one of dozens of volunteers. Meaning she has a lot of time to stare and let her imagination get away with her. And her imagination’s favorite subject these days is Hot Dad. Once again here tormenting her as he wobbles around the rink with his son.

She can’t really tell how old he is, a knit beanie always pulled low over his head and a beard covering his face. He’s got glasses too. None of which makes it hard to see how attractive he is. (One time he forgot his scarf and she nearly had to take a break when he laughed at his son and the tendons in his neck stood out as he threw his head back and she thought how lick-able it looked.) He’s on the lanky side, which on skates occasionally makes him look like a newborn wobbly-legged foal, and even that is somehow charming.

Or Ginny is just really hard up and needs to get a life. Which is what Demelza loves to say. Also that Ginny is a workaholic. And sure, it’s been a hot minute since her last date. She just has a lot going on right now. Besides, this guy is definitely more than likely married.

So instead, she is going to happily, harmlessly ogle Hot Dad while he stumbles around the rink with his son, who has shown little to no improvement over the last week. In fact, if possible, they both seem to be getting worse.

Fifteen minutes later, Hot Dad nearly takes out a pair of teenaged girls, blocking the entire flow of skaters as he stops to thoroughly apologize while his son stands nearby and nearly laughs himself down onto the ice. And then actually goes down onto the ice.

Jesus.

Talk about the blind leading the blind. They’re going to cause a pile-up, she tells herself. It’s the only reason she grabs a pair of skates and heads over to help.

Really.

“Excuse me,” she says as she approaches.

He looks up and, shit, his eyes are like the most intense green she’s ever seen, and also, he’s definitely younger than she first thought, closer to her own age. But also young enough that he must have been Hot Young Teen Dad when his kid was born. But still just as hot as she imagined him to be.

Dammit.

“Not that I don’t admire your persistence,” she says, helping the kid to his feet, “but you two are rapidly becoming a hazard.”

Hot Dad straightens his glasses, looking sheepish. “We definitely are. But it’s an emergency, I’m afraid.”

“An emergency?” Ginny asks, trying to ignore the thrill of finally hearing his voice for the first time. And what a nice voice it is.

He grins. “Ted’s trying to impress a girl.”

“Harry!” the kid shrieks, looking mortified.

Ginny blinks, both cataloging Hot Dad’s name—Harry—and noticing the strange use of it by his son. Maybe he’s in that rebellious teenage phase where he calls his parents by their first names?

He’s still wearing gloves, dammit. Not that it matters. She doesn’t have time for Hot Maybe Married Dad right now.

Really.

“And you’re somehow supposed to help with that?” she shoots back before she can think better of it.

But rather than looking offended, Hot Dad—Harry—just grins back at her. “A hopeless case, I suppose.”

“Depends on how this is meant to impress a girl.”

“He’s going to ask her out for the first time,” Harry says, smiling at his son as Ted looks even more mortified.

“To go ice skating,” Ginny surmises. “Have you considered the movies, or frozen yogurt or, I dunno, anything not on ice?”

Ted shakes his head, looking earnest in the way only a young teen can. “It has to be ice skating.”

Ginny sighs. “I suppose I could give you some pointers. At least keep you from being a total disgrace.”

The kid gives her a dubious look. “You think you could?”

Oh, now it’s on. “You doubt me?” she asks, pushing back on her skates. Without another word, she does a quick tick around the circle, doing the second half backwards. With a quick spin, she comes to stop in front of them at the last possible moment in a showy shower of ice shavings.

Harry looks impressed, eyebrows lifted. “Were you a skater?”

“Hockey,” she says succinctly, used to people making assumptions. Then again, she’s hardly a delicate thing to be twirling around in tutus. Not that she couldn’t if she wanted to, thank you very much. But she’s more into smacking people with sticks than doing toe loops.

“I think this is your best hope, Ted,” Harry says. “The ice angels have smiled down on you.”

Ginny bites back the urge to clarify that she is in no way an angel and would be happy to prove it to him. Instead, she focuses on the kid, who she can’t look down on all that much considering he’s nearly at her height already.

“What do you say?”

Ted lets out a breath. “Please.”

She smiles. “Okay. But before we start, I need to know one thing. This girl you’re asking out. What are you going to do if she says no?”

His eyes widen, giving Harry a panicked look. “Oh, god. Is she going to say no?”

He pats his shoulder. “I think she’s more trying to make sure you aren’t going to use her powers for evil.”

“Pretty much,” Ginny says.

“I don’t understand,” Ted says, brow furrowed.

Ah, the innocence of youth.

“For example.” Harry turns towards Ginny. “I don’t think I got your name?”

“Ginny,” she says, trying to ignore the quiver she feels as his gaze falls intently on her.

He smiles, holding out his hand. She slips her gloved hand into his, shaking firmly. “Nice to meet you, Ginny. I’m Harry.”

“Hello, Harry,” she says, their hands still clasped between them.

He places his other hand on the back of hers, the gesture somehow endearing even as it’s terribly old-fashioned. “Would you go to dinner with me?”

She nearly blurts out a yes before remembering that they are playacting. And he’s probably married. And they’re standing in front of his son. “Sorry,” she says. “Dating customers is against the rules.”

Harry smiles at her—fuck, that is not okay. “Okay,” he says, letting go of her hand. “Sorry if I bothered you. I hope you have a great day.”

“You, too,” she says.

Harry turns back to his son. “There you go.”

“But that wasn’t a no,” Teddy points out.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “It was. If someone wants to go out with us, they’ll say yes. She doesn’t have to explain why or justify it. Plus, do you really want to go out with someone you had to convince?”

Okay, and now Ginny is not just lusting after him, but a little bit in love with the asshole too.

“No,” Ted says, frowning. “I guess not. But what would you do now?”

Harry puts a hand to his chest like he’s nursing a painful wound. “We slink back to our caves like men, feel sorry for ourselves for a little bit, and then pretend it never happened. And definitely don’t ask again.”

“But she’s at my school! I’ll see her every day. Won’t that be weird?”

Ginny expects a pep talk, don’t worry, of course she’ll say yes, but instead Harry slings an arm over Ted’s shoulders. “It might be weird for a while, I admit. But don’t be a pain in the ass and you’ll both get over it. Of course, she might also say yes. Is the potential weirdness and embarrassment worth the chance that she might say yes?”

A look of determination crosses his features. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “It’s worth her maybe saying no, if it means she might also say yes.”

“Well then, I think you have your answer.”

And now Ginny is pretty much fully in love with him. Ugh, her life is the worst.

“Come on,” she says, gesturing for Ted to come closer. “Let’s try a few rounds.”

She spends the next fifteen minutes giving him a few key pointers, enough that he’s not a complete hazard, but he’s still a long way from dating form. For one, the kid appears to have two left feet. Which, once he warms up to her a bit (and informs her that he much prefers to go by Teddy), his clumsiness pales in comparison to his general politeness and wicked sense of humor. She’s not sure what he’d say if she said those were going to go a lot further for him than his ice-skating skills.

They eventually come back to a stop next to Harry where he waits against the wall off to one side. They’ve just made it when Teddy careens over and nearly face plants into the ice. Harry reaches out for him, only to almost lose his own footing.

What a pair, Ginny thinks, not even bothering to hold back her laughter.

“Your son seems to have inherited your clumsiness,” she says once they are all steadily on their feet again.

Harry laughs, beaming at Teddy, but the kid just lets out a dismissive sound. “He’s not my dad. As if.”

“You could only be so lucky,” Harry says, ruffling the kid’s hair. “Remus may be smarter than me, but I am far better at pretty much anything requiring coordination.”

“That remains to be seen,” Ginny says, Teddy letting out an appreciative laugh.

Harry lifts an eyebrow, like maybe she’s twinged his ego. “Ice is not my natural environment.”

“Really,” she drawls. “Then what is your natural environment?”

“Pretty much anything but ice. I’m not picky,” he says, and somehow the unspoken arrogance is attractive.

Ginny tilts her head to the side. “I think I’d need proof to be able to judge that adequately.”

“Would you,” he says, voice lowering.

Fuck, the ice should be melting in here.

They hold each other’s gazes a bit longer than is probably proper, Teddy looking between them.

Ginny gives herself a little shake, turning back to the kid. “So, Teddy. I have some bad news and some good news.”

“Okay,” he says, looking wary.

“The bad news is that winter is likely to end before you master ice skating. I mean, you can keep trying. You’ll get better just through practice. But it’s going to take a while.”

He sighs, apparently not horribly surprised to hear it. “And the good news?”

“Well, why do you want to take this girl ice skating?”

“Because she loves ice skating.”

“Is she good?”

He nods. “She’s really good.”

“There’s your good news. And because I like you, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Tell her you’d like to take her ice skating because you know she likes it so much. And then tell her that you aren’t very good, but you’re willing to try and you’d appreciate it if she’d help you. Basically, what I am saying is don’t try to hide that you aren’t great at this yet. Just focus on enjoying being there with her. Honest is so much better than cool.”

She expects him to fight that, but instead he looks thoughtful, eventually nodding. “Okay.” He turns to Harry. “Can we be done now? My butt is so cold I can’t feel it anymore.”

Harry ruffles his hair again. “Yeah. I’ll take you home.”

Teddy heads off towards the exit, and he has improved at least a little bit, Ginny notices as she follows slightly behind. Harry keeps pace with her, even as he wobbles his way along, never more than an arm’s length from the edge.

“That was some good advice,” he says.

“Well,” Ginny says, “what’s the point of suffering through all that teenage angst if not to try to save the younger generation from repeating your mistakes?”

Harry laughs. “I hear that.”

They sit on the benches, pulling off their skates.

“I can take your skates here,” she says, stepping back behind the counter, ignoring the person already waiting to run this part of the booth.

He hands the skates up over the counter. His gloves are off now and she can see his perfectly naked fingers. Interesting.

“Thanks,” Teddy says.

“Good luck!” she calls out after him.

He waves, heading for the exit.

Harry lingers another moment, pulling his beanie off and revealing dark hair in complete disarray. “I’m realizing I’ve backed myself into a corner,” he says, leaning against the counter.

“How exactly?” she asks.

He drags a hand through his hair. “Because I can’t very well ask you out again without being a hypocrite.”

“Hmm,” she says, nodding solemnly at him. “That is a tricky spot you’ve put yourself in. I suppose sometimes it’s hard to live by our principles.”

He gives her a sad, lopsided smile. “You have no idea.” He pushes back from the counter. “It was nice meeting you, Ginny.”

“You, too, Harry,” she says.

He turns and walks away. Ginny eyes his ass, and, god, it really is a thing of beauty. He doesn’t even look back, and he’s going to do it. He’s really just going to leave her alone.

Amazing.

She counts three long beats before coming around to the other side of the counter and calling out after him. “Harry.”

He stops, turning back to look at her, waiting for her to catch up.

“For the record,” she says, “dinner never would have worked.”

“Sure,” he says, hands in his pockets.

“I already ate, and I’m stuck here until nine,” she says. “How about I buy you a drink instead?”

“You sure?” he says, voice slightly teasing. “Because I’d hate to have a date who had to be convinced.”

“Oh, believe me,” Ginny says. “You don’t need to do any convincing.”

He looks delighted, a smile lighting up his face, and Ginny is still having a hard time believing he’s real. “I’ll swing back around at nine them.”

She nods. “Looking forward to seeing you in your natural environment,” she drawls, giving him a wink.

He almost immediately nearly bumps into a trash can.

She lifts an eyebrow at him, but he just shakes his head. “Still shaking off the ice-skating legs.”

“Of course,” she says.

“Harry!” Teddy shouts from the exit.

“Coming!” Harry yells back. He looks at her. “Nine.”

She nods. “Nine.”

Giving her one last lingering look, he turns, giving her a great view as he walks away. Once out on the sidewalk, she can see Harry wrap his arm around Teddy’s neck, giving him a playful noogie as the kid fights him off.

Ginny smiles, watching them disappear before heading back to her station.

Back behind the counter, she picks up her phone, pulling up her conversation with Demelza.

Hot dad is not a dad at all, is gloriously single, and I am seeing him at nine tonight.

Get it, girl.

#annerbfic #hinny #seriously what is this #meet cute #american AU i guess #because I couldn't be fussed to mess with Britishisms #still on my indulgent bullshit lads #not lucky #but something equally ridiculous

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

Text

Light My Fire - CH10

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: Fluff, NSFW

WC: 2828

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

A very loud, very piercing sound catapults her wide awake and Y/N almost stands up straight in bed upon hearing the unfamiliar noise.

There’s a shuffling sound of a hand taping on a night stand. It needs too many misses to finally stop that horrible, horrible noise. When silence returns, she closes her eyes again.

It takes her a little while to remember where she is and when she does, her eyes fly back open with horror.

Blinking, she sees that she’s still in Dean’s room, still horizontal in his bed and she feels him, feels his legs, his arms, his body. They’re connected and tangled together in more places than they’re not.

She knows that she should maybe get up, should maybe hop into the showers and get dressed for work but she just can’t seem to move because he’s half draped over her, and strangely, she’s very okay with that. It’s too cozy in bed to want to move at all. So she does what every sane person would do after the ringing of an alarm — she closes her eyes again.

Another shrill noise snaps her out of her cozy cocoon after a while.

Oh my god, that fucking alarm again!

Dean stirs next to her, his hand flies to where his alarm is, picks it up and throws it against the wall, the ringing dies down. He slips his hand underneath the covers, arm weaving around her waist.

“No wonder you’re always so grumpy,” She mumbles into the pillow, catches his scent off of it.

Y/N feels Dean lifting his head to look at her.

“What?” His voice is deep and raspy, still full of sleep, the bass of it vibrates onto her back.

“Your alarm. It literally makes me angry hearing it.”

He chuckles at that, “I have to buy a new one now anyway.”

She turns onto her back and tries to blink the sleep out of her eyes and then she looks into Dean’s eyes who is propped onto his elbow looking down at her.

Oh my god, how can he look so good so early in the morning? It’s not fucking fair! His hair is ruffled up but it makes him even more cute.

“What time is it?” She squints her eyes, looking at him feels like looking into the fucking sun. Her eyes can’t take it so early in the morning.

“6.15am,”

“What? Oh my god, Dean!”

He chuckles as she buries her face back deep into the pillow, she takes another breath of his intoxicating scent.

Dean kisses her temple, “Come on! Rise and shine, Y/N!”

“No,” She mumbles.

His hands find her under the covers to tickle her and she’s squirming in his grip, “Oh my god, okay, okay! I’m up!”

Dean gets out of bed to walk to the bathroom and she follows grumpily. She avoids looking in the mirror because she would then see what she knows. That she looks like she’s been run over by trucks — repeatedly.

He’s already brushing his teeth and she picks up her toothbrush while he helps her squirt toothpaste on it. With a glare, she places the brush into her mouth and walks out of the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” Dean calls after her.

“I’m taking a shower.” She answers, and proceeds to walk into her own room.

There, she gets out the shirt, tosses it on her bed that’s still made since yesterday morning. Getting out of her panties, she balls them up and throws them into the hamper. She continues to brush her teeth as she walks to the bathroom and sits down to pee. After flushing, she spits out the toothpaste and rinses out her brush before she gets into the shower.

She’s in the middle of soaping up when Dean walks in naked like a fucking greek god. He clearly has no shame whatsoever. But again, she probably would have none either if she looked like that.

Dean leans against the sink, she can’t really see him in detail because the shower glass begins to fog up. She can see his outline, can see that he crosses his arms over his chest and there’s a chuckle, “You’re not a morning person, are you?”

“Ya think?” She grimaces and rinses the shampoo out of her hair.

He ignores her snarky remark and steps into the shower. From up close she can see that his body’s still damp, little droplets of water resting on his shoulders. He already took a shower. And then her eyes wander down to his boner. Yep, definitely hard and it definitely looks inviting. It makes her knees weak and he grins cockily because he knows. Damn him.

She rinses the foam from her face and when she opens her eyes again, Dean’s right up in her space as he cradles her head between his big palms and tilts her face up to look him in the eye.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good,” She replies, “Just angry about your alarm clock,” She’s pouting a litte.

Dean chuckles, “You can order me a new one. See it as one of your tasks for the day. Order something that has a less penetrating sound.”

“Oh, I will. Maybe then you’ll be less grumpy in the mornings,”

“Hey, I’m not the grumpy one around here right now.” He grins and leans down to kiss her.

It’s soft at first, he’s gentle, as if he’s testing the water. It only grows heavier when she kisses him back. She sucks on his tongue like he normally does to her and Dean groans against her mouth.

“Fuck,” He breathes out, “What are you doing to me?”

What is she doing to him? More like what is he fucking doing to her?

He picks her up, and the next thing she knows he has her pinned against the tiled wall. The impact makes her bite down on his bottom lip that’s still attached to her, and he groans some more at that.

It’s all rough and need and want, and her mind is fogged as much as the shower, her pussy clenches and releases around nothing.

Dean nibbles down her throat, “You want this? Tell me you want this,”

How is she supposed to answer him when he sucks down her throat and thrusts his hips so his dick grinds so good against her aching cunt?

She tries nonetheless, “Y— oh go—, ye— ss,”

There goes her coherent thoughts.

He kisses around her lips, plants little pecks on her nose, her cheeks, “Next time, I promise, I’ll take my time,” His breathing is ragged, “I just— fuck— just want to feel you around my cock now, can I?”

“Please,” She stammers, doesn’t even care that it came out whiny.

He smiles, kisses her and lines himself up with one hand while the other one still holds her pinned against the shower wall.

Dean takes his time now, threads the head of his cock along her folds, slicks it up with her juice before she feels him at her entrance. He goes in slow, and she feels the stretch and burn and he moans into her mouth upon feeling the warmth of her pussy.

“Goddamn it,” He lowers his face to the crook of her neck, sucks at her skin and her hand fists in his hair, one is on his back, nails digging into his flesh.

“Dean,” She whines out, because he’s still moving awfully slow. He pauses and his body shudders when he bottoms out.

His thrusts stay slow, as if he doesn’t dare to hurt her.

“Harder, please,” She needs it. Fucking wants him to have his way with her.

He chuckles, his mouth leaves her skin, and there’s skin between his teeth that he releases before he kisses it to sooth it, “Harder, yeah?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Christ,” Dean curses, picking up speed and she wedges an arm between them to rub at herself, “Dammit, you’re already tight as it is but you rubbing yourself? It just got wetter and tighter. Keep doing it, baby,”

Baby.

Okay, she really loves it when he calls her that, not going to lie. The endearment goes straight to her core and Dean curses some more as her pussy pulses around him. She can feel it too.

“You’re killing me,” He kisses her deep and with the same roughness he fucks up into her.

She wants to tell him that he’s the one who’s killing her— but she can’t, because her toes are curling and there’s a growing sensation in the depths of her core. It gets stronger and stronger.

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, don’t stop don’t—”

The explosion hits her whole body, she’s shaking above him and Dean has to hold her tighter so as not to let her slip out of his grip. Her hands fly around him, scrambles at his back for purchase. She’s sure that she’ll leave a mark on him, hoping that he doesn’t mind. He groans too, his voice deep and loud as he buries his face deep into her neck and he shudders all over.

When he comes down from his high, he chuckles, kisses up her shoulder, her neck, her cheek until he meets her lips, “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

She blushes at that, but fortunately her cheeks are already flared up from the fucking, “You too,” She smiles and Dean kisses her again before he sets her down. She squirms at the loss when he pulls his still half hard cock out of her with another peck on her nose.

Her legs are wobbly and Dean helps her standing up straight while he places her back under the spray and begins to soap her up. He groans out when his hand goes down there and his fingers slips along her folds. It’s still slick and full of his cum.

Y/N does the same to him, squeezes body wash into her palms and begins to soap up Dean’s chest. She can feel every bump, every muscle twitching, he’s so firm but soft at the same time, it’s ridiculously sexy, and she can’t believe that she’s married to him! Well, fake married— potatoes, potatoes...

Her hands go further down, and she feels his stomach clench when she’s soaping him up underneath his navel. Dean groans out when she grabs his dick, working both hands around his length that’s already increased in size.

Dean groans out, his lips capturing hers for a kiss before he parts, pulling his lower body away from her. His mouth ghosts over hers, their minty breath mixes with the scent of her body wash, “Baby, you gotta stop that or else I have to fuck you again.”

She raises her eyebrows with a cocky grin because she really doesn’t know if it’s a threat or a promise.

Dean rolls his eyes playfully, groans out a little, and he makes her let go of his cock causing her to pout, “Jesus,” He surges forward, teeth sinking down onto her bottom lip as she yelps up with a giggle.

Of course he’s right. They don’t have that kind of time, so she rinses herself out and Dean follows her under the spray. The smell of her body wash fills the room, the scent hangs heavy and humid in the air and she has to grin at him.

“What?” He asks her with one eyebrow raised as she walks over to her towel and starts to dry herself off.

She starts to chuckle, “You’ll smell like my body wash now.”

Dean just shrugs like he really doesn’t care and continues to wash away the foam from his body.

She has to hurry, she knows, because Dean’s already finished and he told her that he’s waiting for her, but she really doesn’t know what she should wear today.

In all honesty, she doesn’t really have many choices but her head’s still hurting and it seems like she has a hard time getting her makeup right.

She opts for a dress. It seems like the best choice because there aren’t any buttons she has to deal with and as for the makeup? Powder and mascara it is. And instead of lipstick, she just uses gloss. She really doesn’t want to waste energy on how she dresses when she knows that the day ahead will be stressful as it is. Sure, it’s Friday, but they always have a lot to do on every freaking day of the week. And— oh shit! She’s going away tomorrow, so she will have even more to do and to arrange for her and Dean’s absent.

“‘M sorry, I’m making you late again.” She groans when she walks into the living space and comes to stand next to him and Dean hands her a cup of coffee. She stares at it.

“Don’t worry, it’s already cooled down a little,”

She has to grin at that, “Thanks,”

“Take your time,” Dean says and turns a page of the newspaper that’s spread in front of him.

She takes a seat on the stool at the kitchen island and lays her cheek on the cold surface, still feeling so hungover, “I think we have to go, my boss will kill me if I’m late,”

Dean chuckles but doesn’t look up from the paper, “I think we’ve established that your boss is a dick.”

“Yeah, and now,” She drinks half her coffee, “I’m definitely going to be late,”

He looks up from the papers, “You want breakfast? I think I still have toast somewhere,”

“Dean, are you listening to what I’m saying? We’re late! My boss will definitely call me into his office. And no, ugh, I don’t think I can keep solid food down,”

Dean raises an eyebrow. He’s already in his suit jacket, the tie neat and he even wears cufflinks. He presses his lips together into a smile as he watches her down her coffee, his dimples of content are showing. A rare sight.

He abandons the newspaper and comes to stand behind her. His arms on either side of her body as he braces his hands on the surface of the kitchen island crowding her in. She feels him lowering himself behind her to whisper into her ear. She feels hot all of a sudden, “I think he’ll be okay with it,” He noses behind her ear, making all the hair on her back stand up, “And if he calls you into his office, it’s not because you’re late.”

They arrive and Ruby’s already there, although not really, because she’s slumped over her desk.

Dean squeezes at Y/N’s hand that’s still in his and they stand next to Ruby’s desk, which is the opposite of Y/N’s own desk. He tries to keep a straight face as he clears his throat loudly next to Ruby.

“Huh? Shit! Yeah, I’m here,” Ruby sits upright, is startled by the noise and she looks up at the source to see Dean and Y/N grinning. Her friend’s face falls, “Sorry, sir— I’m—”

“Ruby,” Dean says, and he let go of Y/N’s hand to let her sit down at her desk, “If you could work? That’d be great. And if you need to sleep, go take a nap in the break room like everyone else does.”

Y/N’s jaw drops. How does he know? He’s never in there!

“I need to see you,” He tells her, “You got my email, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Ruby scrambles to gather the papers together and stands up.

“Is my brother in?” He asks. Sam’s office is situated a floor below them.

“Yes, sir.”

Dean raises his eyebrow, “You had a good night?”

Y/N tries to hide her grin.

“Yes, sir.” Ruby’s cheeks turn red.

“You can go wait in my office, I’ll be right there,” Dean says and Ruby nods, walks towards his office.

Dean smiles at Y/N and then he takes a step closer, cages her in with one hand on the back of her chair and one braced on the desk. He lowers himself enough to whisper into her ear, “Did you notice too that Ruby’s still wearing the clothes from last night?”

She snorts out a laugh, “Yeah,”

He laughs with her, places a kiss on the top of her hair, “Okay, let’s work, shall we?” Dean turns around and walks to his office.

“Dean?”

Y/N watches him turn around, “Please don’t tease her about it?”

He shrugs, leaves his hands in the air, “Of course, I won’t. What my employees do in their own time is none of my business.”

“What am I doing as well?” She raises an eyebrow.

He replicates the rise of the eyebrow, his hands disappear into his pants pockets and he grins cockily, “You’re doing me, so yeah, that is my business. Now order that damn alarm clock or I’ll need to see you in my office next.”

CH11

#light my fire #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #ceo!dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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avversiera-writes · 4 years ago

Text

imagine this - senju tobirama/you, part 1 of 2

Summary: In which Tobirama ponders about what his life has amounted to, if what he has done and all of his accomplishments were enough.

What happens if he makes it from his last fight, and comes home to the news of his unborn child. Life, as it is, ensues.

A/N: Pls cry, I did my best in this one-shot HAHAHAHHAHA.....

available on AO3.

Imagine this.

Tobirama closes his eyes and he searches for your chakra signature. It flares strongly, even more than usual, and despite being close to his death, he takes comfort that you are alive and well. His words of telling you not to mourn him can only do so much, he knows this well. He did not realize that he would be taken from your side this early on in life.

He does not feel pain anymore.

As someone who has lived through many wars and deaths, he wonders if all the work he has done, all the fights he has won, he wonders what they equate to. Is he just a blip in time? Will he be remembered for his transgressions, or the accomplishments that he made and paid for by blood and many sleepless nights? Will he be known for his militaristic rule and policies, or be overshadowed by his brother’s abilities and be named something less?

At the time of his dying, he finds that he could care less. He only worries for you and what his death will mean to you. The village will be okay. He has trained his successor well, has raised him to be a fine shinobi, and under his care, the village will thrive. He hopes. He knows that Hiruzen is too young, but he is the only capable shinobi who can protect his village and lay down his life for it, no questions asked.

His eyes go to the sky, and for the life of him, he has never seen the sky like this. It is not supposed to be beautiful, not when he’s dying, but now that everything is finally coming into a stop, he finds that it is okay for him to finally admire the beauty of nature. That it is okay to feel at peace, and accept all the love that you have given him, because he knows all too well how much you have given him.

He never had time–he felt as if time was always working against him, and no matter how fast he is, time is a god that he can never contend with. He is and will always be a human being that will die in the end.

He is Senju Tobirama, Second Hokage. Master delegator, inventor, advisor, a brilliant tactician, teacher.

But to you, he is Senju Tobirama. Your husband, your companion for life.

His vision clouds with blurred faces, but for a moment, he is allowed a moment of clarity.

Hiruzen, the new appointed Hokage, comes into view. He did not expect for any of them to come back for him.

Tobirama feels a hand grasp his, and he turns to his student. “Tell her...that I am both thankful...and sorry.”

His vision blanks, but he hears his student heeding his request. As for his last breath, he spends it feeling your chakra, despite being miles away.

Imagine this . He tells you, even if you will never know.

It could be worse, you think.

When they brought Tobirama in, he was worse for wear. The good thing was, he is still conscious. He is not belligerent, and he lets his students carry him to the hospital to start the healing process.

Nervously, you follow them and you try to hold in the queasiness that is rocking your stomach. Subconsciously, you bring a hand to your stomach, as if it will help calm it.

You wait around, eating whatever Tobirama’s students bring you to eat and fighting hard to not throw it back up.

You must be sick, you reckon, but you know that this is not true. You have noticed how you tire easily these days, and how moody you are even though some situations do not require intense emotions. You also notice how you get sick around certain smells, and you are sensitive to the slightest change in temperature. You feel bloated, even though you cannot keep down any foods that you used to eat.

You are afraid to say it, because you do not want to hope for more, especially with what happened in the past with your miscarriage.

But days of waiting for Tobirama to heal, of going through many tiring routines, the tiny life inside you continues to grow strong, and you are sure that it will be okay.

After almost a month of recuperating, Tobirama is chained to his bed–figuratively, of course. He does not seem eager to get back on his feet, which is a first. He always disregards his own health and feels the need to jump at any chance to work, but for now, he stays still under your vigilance. You are finally alone with him, and you take his hand into yours.

Tobirama looks at you, in the same way that he always does. Even when he’s angry, or scowling at something that displeases him, all of that goes away when he finally finds your face.

“You do not look well,” Tobirama hoarsely grunts out.

You let out a small chuckle. “Speak for yourself.”

Tobirama squeezes your hand strongly. “I told you not to worry.”

You roll your eyes, finding it in you to be a little bit more playful. “No, you said, do not mourn me .” You try your best to impersonate him.

Tobirama scowls and gives you a pointed look, but his touch on your hand remains tender.

“Tobi,” you whisper, unsure how to begin.

Tobirama stares at you, waiting patiently for you to gather your thoughts.

“I’m with child,” you tell him, cutting to the chase.

You look to your husband’s face and you see a light of wonder spread across his eyes, and then the faint softening of the rest of his face.

“Oh,” he says, rendered speechless. It is probably one of the least things he expects right now.

You smile faintly and you bring your entwined hands to your lips. “You will be a father.”

Tobirama lets out a faint rush of air that sounds akin to a laugh. “And you, a mother.”

When Tobirama got discharged from the hospital, it is surprising that he does not immediately throw himself to work. He insists that you consult with a doctor to make sure that everything is progressing well with your pregnancy, and by insist, you mean, command . You follow at his behest, and you wonder if the rest of your pregnancy will be full of Tobirama worrying more than enough for the two of you.

Well, he does have a reason to.

He waits as patiently as he could, making the doctor examining you work nervously.

However, you know there is no budging him.

“Alright, my lady,” the doctor says. “Your due date will be on August 13.”

The doctor gives you more provisions, and you have no doubt that Tobirama has already memorized them. He is always better than you with these types of things, as long as they require a routine and order.

As you walk home, Tobirama keeps close to you, not showing how fatigued he is and instead, trying to show you that he can fight anyone who dares harm you.

“Tobirama, calm down,” you tell him right when you step into the four walls of your home.

You know that he is checking and rechecking the chakras surrounding you, in case anyone tries to do something.

“You, sit down,” Tobirama commands. “I will ask the servants to make you something, and you will sleep right after.”

“Right after?” You retort, because you really cannot help it. “At least let my food digest for an hour or two.”

Tobirama thinks about this, and then concedes. “Fine, but you will not tire yourself and move around. You will stay in bed.”

You roll your eyes, but there is a smile on your face. “Right, okay.”

Tobirama meets your gaze, making sure to reaffirm his words, and then he makes way to find the servants.

“Dammit, Tobirama,” you say to yourself, out of affection and amusement.

Tobirama will not even let you walk around the streets of Konoha, not unless he is near you, because one, you might fall, or two, somebody tries to attack you–all his reasonable reasons, of course. So, no walking and shopping anymore. You also cease your work to help your husband, and instead, you are cooped at home, poring over books and poems and other dry manuscripts you happen to get your hands on. If it is not available at home, Tobirama brings it to you.

As your womb grows, your moods swing like a pendulum. One moment, you are giving Tobirama the silent treatment because he didn’t even massage you, the next you feel like you’re about to cry because has not even glanced at you or offered to carry you from the bathroom to the bed.

You honestly do not understand it, because you have always been the less moody one. You feel ashamed that you are acting up, but Tobirama does not complain and takes every brunt of your unpredictable pregnancy with a steady grace and stride that you have always known he is capable of.

Tobirama is a problem-solver, so he always takes action and he starts to make concessions for you. He also scolds you more than usual, mostly due to his fear that some ridiculous situation is about to happen to you. He also comes home earlier than his earlier usual to care for you, and this side of him, you wish you can get more of.

He always manages to surprise you. Much to your chagrin, it is probably because he does not reveal all of his cards right away. It’s like a mission, where one has to meet all kinds of tasks in order to get the reward and receive a bigger mission that is a level up from the previous one.

It is quite funny, that Tobirama never loses this side of him, even towards his domestic life.

You feel your baby kicking one night, when you are reading and humming to yourself. The sensation startles you and you shout Tobirama’s name in panic.

Your husband is at your side in no time, hounding on you with concern. He studies you carefully, his eyes on full alert.

“What is it?” He puts his hands on your womb and he looks so alarmed, that it is almost endearing to you.

“I...there was…” You look down and when your baby kicks again, you realize that there is nothing wrong.

Tobirama notices the kicking as well, and he immediately froze.

You try not to cry as you put your hands on top of your husband’s. “Can you say something? I was just humming and your baby kicked me.”

Tobirama looks quite horrified.

“What?” You urge him. “It’s okay, the baby’s fine. The doctor said that it’s bound to happen, I was just surprised.”

Tobirama lowers himself and he stares at your womb focusedly. “Really?”

“Yes, we’re okay. So talk to your child now, let them know you’re here.”

Tobirama keeps staring, and you see his gears turning. “I do not know what to say.”

“Try.”

Tobirama caresses your womb with his thumbs. “This is your father…”

You laugh, and Tobirama glares at you, but there is no malice.

“Don’t bother your mother too much,” Tobirama continues, but sternly. You detect a hint of shaking in his voice.

You raise your eyebrows. “Firstborn child and that’s what you say to them?”

“What am I supposed to say?” Tobirama snaps, agitated.

“Calm down!” You chuckle. “One might have thought you’re the pregnant one here.”

Tobirama clenches his jaw, and you know he is embarrassed.

“Firstborn?” He repeats, dumbfounded.

You shrug. “Well, you know, trial number one right here on the way. If it goes well, maybe you’d want another one so it doesn’t get lonely.”

Tobirama frowns. “My children are not experiments.” And he glances down at your womb again. “And don’t call them ‘it.’”

You chuckle, and you squeeze his hands. “Fine, fine. You’re so meticulous.”

Tobirama smiles softly, and then he stands up. He gives you a forehead kiss, and then sternly ushers you to go to sleep.

You do not even complain about it.

Read Part 2 here.

buy me a coffee !

#angelica writes #Tobirama Senju #Senju Tobirama #tobirama x reader #naruto fanfiction #naruto x reader #'til death do us part

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