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sapiowoman28 · 4 years ago

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I can, I can't : Part 1 of 3

Pairing: Jaemin x female reader

Gener: best friends to lovers au, smut, fluff

Warning: mentions of sex, masturbation (Female)

Summary: Jaemin and Y/N are part of a group of best friends. One day, things change.....

They called themselves the dropouts. Brought up in good Catholic families, active within the Church community as kids, Catholic school education... the works. They then grew up and stopped going.

It wasn't some group thing were everyone agreed to stop going altogether at the same time. It was more like, one by one, they stopped going.

Jeno was the first to stop, at 15, after his parents got divorced. He became angry and withdrawn. By 16 he was mixing with the wrong crowd - think underaged drinking, partying, It was only after a close brush with the law that he - literally and figuratively - sobered up and decided to focus on healthier pursuits like education and sports. Thankfully too, the old Jeno that everyone knew and love came back.

Then were was Renjun. Renjun was always the one who wasn't really into religion anyway. He was more apt to believing in aliens and ghosts. His mother kept him going for as long as she could. By 18 he was out.

Haechan, as he got older, became a sporadic goer. After moving out on his own to live with the guys and Y/N in an apartment closer to campus, he stopped too.

Y/N? The older she grew, the more she learnt about the importance of gender equality. The more she embraced feminism, the more she found some church teachings hard to swallow.

All was left, of course, was Jaemin. Now Jaemin, he was still a "good boy", faithfully going to Church every Sunday. It wasn't that he was extremely religious. It was more that he had gone to Church every single week all his life. To not go one week felt odd and different.

The good thing was, nobody made fun of him or tried to stop him from going. Jeno even woke him up on Sunday mornings before he went for his 10km runs just so Jaemin would get to mass on time. (Mass is what Catholics call a church service.)

Y/N enjoyed hanging out with her friends. She was like one of the boys. It had always been like that since they were young. Everyone who knew Y/N knew she was not to be messed with. Not only was she capable of kicking anyone's balls, she also had four bros who would come after their ass too. In fact, guys who were interested in dating her would often try to get in good standing with the four guys so life would be easier for them. So it was hardly surprising that Y/N had never had her heart broken.

The problem was, Y/N was the one breaking hearts. Commitment wasn't her strongest suit, and more often than not she'd break off with whoever she was seeing with very trivial reasons, First she was dating Xiaojun. Then 7 months later she broke it off with him because apparently he "sucked at making out". The truth was, Xiaojun was good enough in bed but Y/N wanted to date the more exciting Yang Yang after meeting him at a frat party her gal friends dragged her to and making out with him. So Yang Yang it was. For a while she was happy. But then 10 months passed and Yang Yang was history. Now it seemed, was some guy called Lucas.

"Now, before you guys misunderstand, Lucas is not my boyfriend." Y/N declared over a pizza with Jaemin one Saturday night. "He's just... a friend..."

Jaemin raised his eyebrow. "You mean a friend with benefits? Cos based on what we have to hear every single Friday night, none of us think you guys are friends. Speaking of which.... Jeno wants me to talk to you."

"Let me guess, you lost rock paper scissors. Again. And that's why you're the one speaking to me."

"Well, we have house rules to follow..." Jaemin started, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"Jeno and his stupid house rules." Y/N sighed. "What now? I can't bring Lucas home?"

"It's getting kind of weird for all of us...."

"You guys bring girls home all the time!" Y/N protested.

"I don't." Jaemin said. It was true.

"Jeno does. Haechan does. Even Renjun! Remember that weird Yoga chick he was seeing?"

"But they're not loud. Lucas sounds like he has a loudhailer in his throat and it's weird hearing him......we end up having to use headphones."

"I've tried asking him to tone it down. But he gets too excited when I blow him..." Y/N grinned as Jaemin covered his ears with his hands, not wanting to hear the details.

"Look, Jeno says he appreciates that YOU have gotten less loud since that time you were dating Yang Yang. But Lucas he's just.... too expressive. Can't you do it at his house or something? It's not the moaning as much as the dirty talk, you know?" Jaemin's voice was getting tinier and tinier.

"If Jeno has a problem, why can't he tell me himself?" I know it's not Haechan or Renjun who are complaining. Haechan's always gaming with his stupid headphones on and Renjun's always listening to music on his noise cancelling ones."

Jaemin sighed. "Don't put me in a tough spot, Y/N..."

He looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. I'll speak to Lucas. But I'm only doing it cos of you, cos you good Catholic boy and virgin and all."

Jaemin rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Y/N, I'm not a virgin!"

Lucas took the news surprisingly well and he was happy to have her hang at his apartment instead. Which turned out to be a better thing, since his apartment was bigger and his housemates were never around. Y/N wondered why she insisted on making out at her apartment to begin with.

"I'm surprised Jeno was the one with the problem.." Lucas said after they had made out and she was snuggling in his arms.

"He has all these rules. The worst part is he makes Jaemin speak to me instead of telling me directly."

"It makes sense. You and Jaemin are close."

"I'm close to all four of them."

"No no no." Lucas said, "Each of them has a different thing with you."

"Explain, Mr Wong." she said, looking up at him.

"I think Jeno knows both of you have strong characters so he has Jaemin speak to you instead when there's an issue so you guys won't argue. He prefers to keep things light, so the most you're gonna get is Jeno making fun of you for having a thing for foriegn men."

"What about Haechan?"

"Haechan's your gaming bestie. You talk about gaming, and game together. But he'd kick the ass of anyone who gives you trouble."

"I think I'm least close to Renjun."

"I don't think it's that. It's more Renjun is kind of in his own world. He's like that with everyone. But he feels close to you guys."

Y/N was impressed.

"What about Jaemin?"

"Jaemin's like your total opposite. But you guys get each other. I like him. He's a good guy."

"Yeah he's a virgin." Y/N joked.

"He's a good looking guy! Heck, if I was a chick I'd go after him man!" Lucas said, his eyes expressive as always.

"Well, he's a good guy. I've never seen him bring a girl home."

"Come on man, when it comes to hormones, even good guys turn bad."

Lucas was driving her home when she got a call from Jaemin.

"Wassup?"

"Are you alone?" Jaemin asked. He sounded strange. "I need help."

"Are you ok?" Y/N asked. "I'm with Lucas. Where are you?"

"Oh. I'll call someone else..."

"Don't be an idiot, Jaemin. Where are you?"

"Hospital." he said. "Can you come? Just don't tell anyone anything. Not even Lucas."

She found him in a bad state at the hospital. Sitting in a daze, blood stains on his crumpled shirt. Y/N had never seen Jaemin look so small.

"Hey" she half whispered. He looked up.

"I can go now. I got an x-ray done. My nose is not broken. And it's finally stopped bleeding." he said. "I already collected my medicines. Mostly painkillers."

"What happened?" she asked.

"I don't want to talk about it." he said.

"Let's get home and get you out of these bloody clothes. And then you can tell me after you've had a good night's sleep."

"Can i sleep in your room tonight?" he asked. It was an unsual request. "I'm feeling quite shaken."

"Yeah. Sure. Let's do that."

It was 2am and he still couldn't sleep. She could feel him toss and turn next to her.

"Jae."

"Sorry."

"No, I can't sleep either."

He sat up.

"I need to get my ID card back. Can you follow me tomorrow?"

"Your ID card?"

"I was fooling around with a first year chick in her house. Her parents came back and caught us. Her dad took my ID away, said he was going to lodge a police report against me for tresspassing his house and taking advantage of his daughter. Well, that's after he beat me up."

Y/N sat up. This was interesting, she thought.

"She's 18?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"18 is legal you dumbass." she slapped her forehead.

"I thought it was 21.."

Y/N groaned. "I can't believe you're so stupid."

"But the trespassing thing?"

"They don't have a case Jae. I'm sure you can prove you were invited there. Even if she lies and said she didn't invite you. They can't prove it beyond a reasonable doubt."

"I'm so glad you're studying law."

"And Jaemin?"

"What?"

"It's illegal for him to detain your ID. YOU can report him."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"Can you go sleep now that you know you're not actually in trouble?"

"Yes. Thanks Y/N." he said, turning to face the opposite side.

But Y/N couldn't sleep. Her mind was running a million miles a minute. Jaemin made out with someone. What was he like when making out? Was he gentle? Was he sweet like he always was to everyone? Was he a dom or sub? What did he do with the girl? Did he have fun?

Her own thoughts made her sick. Feeling a stir in her stomach made her sick. This was her best friend she was thinking of. She had to stop. Maybe she needed a shower.

Taking a towel with her to the bathroom, she shut the door, stripping quickly and getting under the hot jets of water. Damn it, Y/N, she scolded herself. Not Na Jaemin. What happened to your thing for Chinese guys?

She soaped herself trying to escape the mental picture of Jaemin, between the girl's thighs, lapping on her clit mercilessly, his eyes twinkling like they would whenever Jeno or Haechan said something witty. Suddenly, she was thinking of him between her legs, lapping at her core.

She brought her fingers to her clit, rubbing them from side to side. She leaned against the bathroom wall, moving more aggressively. She was wet. Biting her lip she pushed two fingers into her pussy, thrusting them in and out, the sound of the shower masking the wet noises as her fingers moved.

The muscles in her stomach were tightening. She could no longer hold back, thinking of Jaemin thrusting into her, looking at her with an intense gaze. She wanted him bad.

Slowly she came undone, as she moaned into her hands while cumming.

Suddenly, someone was knocking aggressively on the bathroom door. Y/N froze.

"I need to pee!" Haechan shrieked. "Hurry! I need to go back to my game!"

"Give me 2 minutes I'll be done." Y/N said, drying herself with her towel and getting dressed, mind still dazed from thinking about Jaemin. She knew their friendship was never going to be the same ever again.

She was just wondering how easy or hard it was going to be, to get Jaemin to join her on the other side.

#nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream smut #nct dream jaemin #nct dream jeno #nct dream haechan #nct dream renjun #wayv lucas #wayv yangyang #wayv xiaojun #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut

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jeonjeonggukenergy · 5 years ago

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Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut - college!au

wordcount ~ 8.5k

warnings ~ 18+ only! smut, explicit discussion of kinks/sexual preferences (yay healthy communication), dom/sub undertones during both discussion and sex (dom Jungkook, sub reader), mentions of daddy kink and degradation but both are a no, marking, biting, hair pulling, spanking, they both have a srs pain kink lmao, brief oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie

a/n ~ SO excited to finally have this chapter out for yall! it’s a huge one and i’ve been working on it for quite a while, this includes the first full smut scene for this fic and i would love to know how yall like it or any other feedback. i really enjoyed writing the character development in this chapter too! they’re so cute and whipped for each other already hhhhhh. thank you so much for loving this story so far, i’m really looking forward to writing the rest. hope you enjoy! ❣️

previous: chapter 1 | chapter 2 ~ next: chapter 4 (coming soon!)

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 3 ~ particular, perfect

You concluded your walk home by ditching your shoes at the door, swinging your bag off your shoulders to the floor, and plopping down onto the couch immediately. Pulling all three nearby blankets over yourself, you realized you still weren't quite comfortable. You looked around for a second, puzzled, until an absentminded clutch of your boobs reminded you why. Triumphantly, you reached into a sleeve to untangle your bra and chucked it across the room with a deep stretch of relief. Okay, time to overthink again.

Jungkook? What the fuck?

Wait. A bag of chips on the kitchen counter caught your eye before you could descend any further into panic. The perfect emotional crutch. You clutched it to your chest like a safeguard against your own internal monologue, anxiously shoving handful after handful into your mouth. After about thirty minutes spent motionless on the couch with one hand shoved in the chip bag and the other distractedly scrolling through Twitter, your eyes suddenly widened and your hand froze, dropping your next bite of chips back into the bag. Fuck. You had just eaten nearly an entire family-size bag of chips before what could end up being your first fuck in over a year. Well, maybe this was part of why you hadn't gotten fucked in over a year. No, don't go there. You shoved down your own insecurity, knowing you'd just been too busy for a relationship and honestly, probably still were. But that wasn't going to stop you today.

You shook the chip dust off of your hands and got up to head to the shower, turning up your trashiest throwback playlist of getting-ready bops and resolving to at least shave your legs. Going in with no expectations was probably the best strategy here, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Having cleaned his apartment in record time, Jungkook was now at the gym. After triple-checking that his roommate Jin would be in rehearsal until 10pm at the earliest, he quickly scanned all the common spaces and his bedroom and realized he didn't actually have that much work to do besides politely closing the door to Jin's still-decent-but-somewhat-messier room. To be honest, Jungkook had mainly bought himself the time after class so he could shave just in case. But then he figured if he had to shower, he might as well hit the gym first. So here he was, burning off an unprecedented amount of nervous energy. Settling comfortably into the leg curl machine, he turned his music up and started on a low weight to put in reps until his thighs burned and his head felt pleasantly empty.

After completing his normal leg day rotation and dutifully stretching, Jungkook prepared to head home. He walked out of the gym feeling more energized and centered, barely even flinching when he switched his AirPods off to say bye to the nice girl at the front desk and the action accidentally blasted "Whistle" by Flo Rida from his phone speaker for the whole lobby to hear. As he walked back into his apartment, the kitchen clock let him know it was only 4:30. He had plenty of time. Jungkook hopped straight into the shower, shampooing his hair, shaving everywhere he normally did, and savoring several extra moments to relax his muscles under the hot stream of water. Finally, he toweled off to wrap up in the black t-shirt and cozy matching sweatpants he'd carefully stacked on the counter. Offhandedly singing to himself in the steamy mirror, he checked the time on his phone, deciding he might as well go ahead and text you before he got nervous again and did something stupid. Like chickening out completely.

hey its jk! im ready when u are :) my apt is 344 glencoe rd #1521 (yes its on the 15th floor sry D: )

His charming old-school smileys lit up your phone while you still had a leg perched on the bathtub's edge.

"Fuck!" you reacted. The hiss resounded, thanks to the too-good acoustics of your cramped bathroom. Your razor clattering to the floor, you paused your max-volume 2000s music to check the message, and then the time. Only 5! That wasn't dinnertime yet. Plugging his address into Google Maps, though, you realized it was a 15- to 20-minute drive from yours on the opposite end of campus. Even if you got ready at light-speed, you would get there closer to 5:30. Which was a bit more reasonable. He was being reasonable! You should be ready by now!

You leaned over to pick up your razor and cursed again as the water stream grazed the blouse you'd left on out of laziness. You'd showered this morning, so there was no need to repeat that with your shave, but now you'd have to change outfits completely. Feeling like an idiot, naked from the waist down but now all the way wet, you peeled the shirt over your head slowly to preserve your good hair day and glanced down at the dilemma you'd been facing. The patch of hair between your legs stared back at you like the final boss of stupid societal beauty standards. You'd only shaved down there once, as an anniversary present for your first boyfriend the summer before college, and it had been a fun, smooth novelty for about two hours and then itchy, red, gross-looking, and miserable for about three weeks. Also, it had kind of made you feel like a little girl, which creeped you out when you thought about why guys would prefer it. You'd been debating whether to try it again for the past fifteen minutes, because if there was ever a right time, this was probably it. But now you didn't have time, if you were going to be respectful and not keep Jungkook waiting. Well, this was the real you. He could take it or leave it.

Slathering a quick coat of lotion over your freshly shaved legs, you prepared to get dressed in a soft pastel sweatshirt and a flattering pair of workout shorts. Wait, should you wear lingerie? Was that too try-hard? You didn't really even need to wear underwear with these lined shorts, which could be a cool-girl move, you supposed. You settled on a cute white sports bra to go with the shorts, not wanting to deal with a real bra and hoping it still appealed to Jungkook's casual, athletic style. You checked yourself in the mirror briefly before grabbing your bag, confirming you looked chill enough but still felt like your best color-coordinated self. Heading out, you shoved a tin of chrysanthemum green tea in your water bottle pocket. Why not?

You whizzed over to Jungkook's apartment, yelling along to "Sex With Me" by Rihanna from your throwback playlist to hype you up in the car. When you knocked on his door after a nerve-wrackingly long elevator ride, Jungkook welcomed you with a "C'mon in!" amidst a mouthful of shrimp chips.

"It's not really dinnertime yet," (yeah, no kidding, you thought) "I went ahead and worked out but it's still kind of early, so I figured we could just have a snack and do the homework first."

"Sounds good," you affirmed. "I'm not really that hungry," (read: there's no way I can eat chips AGAIN right now, I'm going to bloat so badly) "but I brought tea so I can go ahead and make that if you want some too!"

"Oh cool, thanks!" Jungkook accepted. "Are you sure you're not hungry though?"

You almost gave into his sweet pout, but managed to convince him, and soon you both sat at the table with laptops open and twin cups of tea. You had a blast working together for the first time, acting out your "conversation" for the discussion board and pretending to respond spontaneously to each other's points like you hadn't already excitedly rambled back and forth through them in real life. You hit "send" five minutes apart, your idea to not seem too suspicious, and kept raving over Rear Window in between. As the sun lowered outside his living room window, you moved on to making the ramen.

After three offers to help Jungkook, all of which he denied, you simply made another steep of the tea, leaving a mug on the counter for him. Standing at the bar counter sipping yours, you enjoyed all the tiny, cute noises he made while chopping green onions and sprinkling extra garlic in the seasoning, like an anime character who came with his own sound effects. You could tell he made these recipe additions every time, because bulk quantities of the same simple ingredients lined the counters of his cozy kitchen. When he beat two eggs and dropped them into the pot, though, he couldn't seem to find a lid, and eventually settled on trapping the steam with a plate. You both waited on the egg for a silent moment, your foot bouncing under the bar while Jungkook restlessly acquired a slight wiggle. As he took a sip of his tea, a strand of hair fell over his eyes, and he yeeted it out of his face. Your inner language nerd cringed, but there really was no more apt word to describe the action.

You offhandedly said you liked his hair long, and he replied with a smile, "Maybe I'll have to keep it then."

"Do you like it too?" you wondered.

"Honestly no, it's kind of inconvenient."

"Oh, then why would you keep it?" you immediately asked back.

"Well..." he dragged out. "You like it? Maybe I should keep it if it looks better this way."

Your eyes crinkled appreciatively at his thoughtfulness, but then you backtracked. "Wait, no, it's okay! If you don't like it, don't feel like you have to keep it just because of something I said. You can do whatever you want."

"Hm, yeah." A demure smile tugged up the corner of his mouth as he lifted the plate from the ramen pot.

You watched him drag a chopstick through the floating, now-cooked egg to tear it into ribbons, then divide the noodles between two generously-sized bowls. He carefully wiped down the drips of broth from each bowl before sprinkling in his fresh toppings, then walked with you to the table.

Serving you with a pleased smile and a slight nod, he announced, "Dinner!"

"Wow," you mused playfully. "So gourmet."

"I'm really particular about my ramen," he admitted. "I have it down to a perfect routine at this point."

You took your first slurp of his particular, perfect ramen. "Well, it's really good. I'm impressed. And thanks for making me dinner, you didn't have to do all that."

"Oh, come on, it's instant ramen," he laughed. "Nothing special. And you brought the tea, so thanks. And thanks for coming over. And doing the homework with me. And...yeah." Rambling again. Why did he seem so...nervous? You were nervous. He couldn't be nervous. What reason did he have to be? But the twitch of his mouth under his wide eyes, his slightly reddened ears, his hand skittering over his neck—fuck—to ruffle his hair...every action turned another page of his open book. It felt infuriatingly unfair that genetics had assigned someone so sweet and shy and unsure of himself to that fucking body.

While you both ate and talked, you kept catching glimpses of any small flashes of skin you could find, as his long sleeves fell to expose his forearms and the wide neckline of his boxy black shirt gaped around his collarbones. What was wrong with you? Even if this did eventually turn into a dick appointment, the boy still had literally all of his clothes on. You tried to refocus on finishing your noodles, while your brain screamed at itself in shame that you could get this turned on by the sight of someone covered from neck to ankle.

Jungkook ate surprisingly slowly, probably because he kept pausing to excitedly explain his favorite things about the Cowboy Bebop episode you were about to watch together. You smiled into your tea through every out-of-context fun fact and "wait, sorry, that might have been a spoiler!"

Finally, he reached the bottom of his bowl and insisted on both taking your dishes to the sink and leaving them for him to clean later. "You sure you want to start on episode 2? Not 1?"

"Yeah, I remember well enough and your summary helped a lot too!"

"Okay, if you're positive!" he double-checked, grabbing the remote.

Gingerly lowering yourselves to the couch in sync, you avoided looking at each other as you both tried to calculate a comfortable distance between you. His hand looked ready to either hold yours or lower to your thigh, but he retracted at the last second, smoothing it over his own leg anxiously and still clearly itching to make a move. You shuffled closer to him until your thighs barely touched, and he shifted to slink an arm around you, letting your head rest on his well-muscled shoulder. After pressing “play”, he began wiggling slightly again, subconsciously grooving to the old-newspaper-style intro. Spike Spiegel appeared on the screen, his broad shoulders squared into a slouch as he listlessly watched TV. Jungkook kicked one leg over another and stretched his arms out symmetrically to echo the pose. Raising an eyebrow, he waited until you acknowledged him with a faux grimace and a hand to your ear, imitating the old man in a lab who’d just called up Spike for a new mission. You both burst into laughter and settled back into your former arrangement, Jungkook holding you imperceptibly tighter. Though you tried to stay staring straight ahead, wanting to genuinely appreciate the anime, you kept catching his doe eyes in the corner of your sight as you both giggled and gasped your way through the episode.

After avoiding eye contact too many times, you finally tilted your head for a cute sideways view of his face. He leaned toward you too, shyly closing the gap to touch his warm lips to your nose, then lower. You responded immediately, rolling your body with his so your chests met as he pulled you up into a full, deeper kiss. The longer you explored each other's mouths, the more Jungkook punctuated your movements with whimpers. He seemed hesitant to let his hands roam away from your face and neck, but his high, breathy moans made it clear that he was just as into this as you. Your hands had naturally found his taut waist, and at some point you started to bring them back up to his face too—but as your short nails grazed his chest, a particularly sensual, voice-cracking moan interrupted you. You drew back in slight surprise, blinking your eyes open to scan from his face to his body.

He followed your gaze, both slowly settling on the massive tent in his pants. You froze. Your breath grew heavier, confronted with evidence of his physical attraction to you, if nothing else. After regaining his composure, he laid a useless hand over his lap in a delicate attempt to distract you and brought his other hand up to tap your face lightly.

"Is this okay?"

His eyes glittered with equal parts hunger and concern.

"Yes!" you nodded, too quickly, too eagerly. "Yes, this is totally okay. Sorry if I'm being weird, I just...it's been a while." You cringed internally at your own words, but couldn't seem to avoid putting your foot further in your mouth. "I haven't really, like, hooked up like this before—like, I've had sex, but never really outside of a relationship. But don't worry, I get this is more your thing, and I'm totally down if you are. I just don't really know what I'm doing, and you clearly do."

Jungkook blinked at your admission, then his face twisted into something curious, inscrutable. Would he decide you weren't worth the potential for drama? His lips flattened out to a tight line, then pursed to speak, and you looked down at your lap, hoping he wasn't as embarrassed of you as you now were of yourself.

"Well, I've never had sex sober."

Your eyes flashed back up to his. A complex half-smirk offset the furrow in his brow as he exhaled in nervous relief. "So, I don't actually know what I'm doing here either."

You tried to delay your response as you processed the implications. "You mean..." You tilted your head for better eye contact, hoping to convey empathy but not pity while you silently contemplated how to proceed. "Never?"

"Yeah, I've always shown up to parties and the hookups just...happened. Nothing I didn't want, nothing bad like that, but always spontaneous. So I guess we're kind of meeting in the middle, because I've never really had to plan ahead for a situation like this and, uh, figure out what I want. Beyond, yknow, wanting to get laid in the moment, of course." Jungkook laughed off the end of his explanation, but the smile never quite hit his eyes.

"Well, okay, let's pause right there." You sighed. Something in his words didn't sit right with you. "What do you want? I want you to be sure about this, of course, but more than that, even—what do you like?"

"I..." he chuckled, sheepish, shaking his hair over his face again. "What, you want me to just tell you? Like, what I'm into?"

"Yeah," you shrugged, trying to project more confidence than you felt in hopes of encouraging him to keep opening up. "I want you to be able to communicate, I want you to be comfortable. And I want to know what you like, so I can make it as good for you as possible."

With your hands still laid flat on his chest, you felt his heart rate jump a tiny bit, and took the liberty of digging your nails in just slightly deeper. His breath caught him, and then he caught himself. "I don't know, I just want what you want."

Jungkook struggled to appear nonchalant as you rolled your eyes with an "Oh, come on," challenging his avoidance. Every instinct was telling him yes. He could hear his mind screaming at him to be intentional for once and let you take him, if not farther, then deeper than ever before. But he still hesitated, because being intentional in this case required him to be real. He had always been a fairly private person, but something about you made him feel so comfortable so fast that it counterintuitively made him more nervous. Of course Jungkook knew you weren't all innocent at this point, but the risk remained that you wouldn't really be down for everything he secretly wanted to explore. Even worse, though he didn't truly think you would, you could easily turn around and spin anything he revealed into yet another graphic rumor. Especially since you had no skin in the game yourself. He glanced down at your fingers, tensed into his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what you like first? And then I can tell you where we overlap," he grinned competitively. Your eyes widened as he tossed the challenge back your way. Not backing down, you flattened your hands and steeled yourself to settle the stakes.

"Fine—but only if you promise not to just go along with whatever I say. I'll let you know anything that's a hard no for me, but otherwise I want to hear at least one thing that's not on my list. I really do want what you want, that's how I am too, okay? So..." you paused to slide your fingertips over his collar and drag it down with a light scratch, now directly on his skin. You smiled with your eyes, enjoying the way he naturally responded with a hitch of his breath again. "Surely you can think of something specific."

He nodded quickly, before he could convince himself to back out. "Yeah. Promise."

"Okay," you confirmed, slightly nervous but determined to go through with this, for Jungkook's sake if anything. Seeing his body come alive with each new twist of the situation was building your curiosity, not to mention turning you on beyond belief. You could barely stand the warmth of his skin under your hands, so you drew them back to fold in your lap as you began. "So. Uh. To start. I've never really laid it all out like this either. I really like neck kisses? Like, a lot." Equally unused to this kind of directness, you wrung your hands together nervously, but sucked up the boldness to keep elaborating. "That's definitely, like, a big thing that turns me on...and then getting marked up and everything is really hot to me too. Like you can honestly go really rough with me on that, bite me even. I don't know if this is weird but even though it's annoying to cover up, I love taking off the makeup at the end of the day and seeing all the bruises on myself. Knowing I was walking around all day with that as my little secret." You swallowed shyly before continuing, but Jungkook interrupted the brief silence immediately with a hushed "Fuck."

You turned to face him fully and he didn't even move to meet your stare, eyeing the space above your sweatshirt's wide neckline like he was ready to devour you. Emboldened, your smile grew.

"So...yeah. I like being bitten, marked up. Mostly, uh," you rubbed a slightly trembling hand over your shoulder, "I'm just really into pain in general. Obviously not the bad 'I'm too dry and you're jackhammering me' kind of pain, or like, anal. Anal is a hard no. But things like biting, or hair pulling, or overstimulation. Or, like—I don't really know how to explain this, but...getting held too hard? That deep pain like when you get a massage when you're sore and it hurts but it's good, yknow?"

Jungkook looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, breathing shallow and rapid. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, just in time for you to whisper in conclusion:

"I love that feeling."

You suddenly looked away, reticent. A thick silence swelled between you, until he composed himself enough to punctuate it. "Okay. Yeah. Pain. So like, BDSM?"

"I mean, kind of? Sure? I don't have much experience with that and I don't really need the whole power dynamic aspect; I just like the, uh, physical pain. I wouldn't be opposed to trying further, but one thing I do know is I really don't like being degraded. And I'm not into the whole daddy kink thing either. I'm just not gonna call you that, sorry," you laughed, and fortunately he giggled too. "But I know that's not, like, necessary to the rest of BDSM, and the part about giving up control is still...interesting, for sure."

"Wait," Jungkook cocked his head, making a mental note of your last sentence before he went back to the previous one. "What do you mean, being degraded?"

You half-chuckled, half-cringed, never having needed to explain something like this, especially to a guy you hopefully were about to fuck. Cheers to better communication, you supposed.

"You know, how some people when they do dirty talk are like 'yeah, you little slut, you're such a whore.' I don't like being called any of that. Like it's fine that other people like it, there's nothing wrong with that, it's just really uncomfortable for me."

His brows knit together as you explained, and he shook his head so fast it almost looked cartoonish, like a little kid refusing vegetables. "Yeah, no. Don't worry, not really my thing either."

You sighed in relief. "That's nice. I feel like it's, like, weirdly common with guys. Maybe just the kind of thing people learn from porn."

"But you still like it rough, huh? Did you learn that...from porn?" he half-joked, trying to overcome both his shyness and his gritted-teeth arousal.

"No, I don’t like porn. Most of it’s really unethical. I learned from experience," you sassed back. "I don't have a whole lot, but enough to know what I like."

"Well. Hm." He worked his tongue over his teeth, poking one cheek out over his tensed jaw. You couldn't get enough of watching him grow fascinated by your every revelation, and you were preparing to keep pressing further when he beat you to it, posing a question. "Is there anything you haven't tried before, but really want to?"

Your face heated up instantly, tasting your own medicine. You looked back to your hands, breaking his intense eye contact to give yourself the courage to be even more uncomfortably honest. "I...I...um." Your first attempt at disclosing your fantasy came out as a squeak. Swallowing, you set your shoulders and tried again, selfishly reminding yourself Jungkook seemed so eager to please that this was 99% likely to get you exactly what you wanted. "I've always been, uh, really into the idea of, um, getting spanked. I've been, uh, too nervous to ever bring it up, before now obviously, but it's definitely one of the biggest kinks I've always wanted to try. Maybe being tied up too, I think I'd like it if I tried but I haven't thought about that as much. But, yeah...spanking, definitely."

"Fuuuuuuuuck."

A lengthened version of Jungkook's earlier under-breath exclamation made you peer up at him. Your thighs already pressed together from the tension of admitting something totally new, you found yourself needing even more friction just from the sight of Jungkook with his head thrown back on the couch, a veiny hand threaded in his hair to pull the long waves back from his forehead. The full reveal of his sharp eyebrows brought a whole new level of intensity to Jungkook's already beautifully carved features. He glanced over at you, then squeezed his eyes shut with a terse exhale. You couldn't place why, but you felt a deep attraction to the way he expertly restrained himself from acting on the lust written over his face—not under your control, but his own.

"Oh, fuck. What the fuck. How the fuck would you fucking know," he swore more in a single burst than he cumulatively had ever in your presence.

"What?" you toyed, heart rate still high but relaxed enough to enjoy agitating him. "Something ring a bell?"

Jungkook shuddered out a long breath, hand ruffling his hair as his other forearm still tried desperately to subdue his boner.

"Everything," he hissed, more willing to elaborate now that you had done the same, and especially now that he could tell you really did enjoy him being more assertive. "Shit. I...I want...I know you said not to just say this but I really do want everything you want. I can't wait to mark you up. I can't wait to hold you down and bruise your neck. I want it all, I want to make you hurt so good. And then—" Breathless. He looked almost embarrassed. "Then you had to go and somehow guess basically my biggest fucking kink, I can't fucking believe you." Both hands had come up to seize his long locks as he held himself back physically, while finally letting his guard down mentally to declare everything he intended to do to you. Letting out a short laugh, he finally met your eyes. "I wanna spank your ass bright red. Fuck. This is crazy. You're perfect."

Your core throbbed at every bold word. Leaning in close to him, you let your lips approach Jungkook's beautifully sculpted jawline as he panted, his chin tossed up to fully expose his neck. You stopped just short of his skin, in awe of how much you'd been able to work him up and still so tempted to take it to the next level. "Fuck," you echoed. "This is so hot," you murmured almost to yourself. Your eyes closing along with his, you dealt the final blow. "I love that we have so much in common. But come on, you promised. One thing that's not on my list."

Jungkook whined. You could tell he needed to touch you so badly, and no one was stopping him but himself. He had no way of knowing that if he cut the whole discussion and just took you, you wouldn't even try to resist at this point. Staring at his trembling mouth from below, you quickly averted your eyes when he opened his, pretending you hadn't been looking. He inhaled a short hiss, and then spoke.

"Okay..." He paused after just the first word, blowing air through the tiny "o" of his mouth as his eyes bugged slightly from nervousness. He couldn't resist a challenge, though, and his urge to please you overwhelmed his reluctance to peel back one more layer. "So, the pain thing. I think we, uh, feel the same about me giving and you receiving. But...I'm really into it for myself too. I don't know if you'd be comfortable with it, I know you maybe want me to be more dominant and I think I like that more too in general, but you can be as rough with me as you want back. I'd love that." Eyes still open but fluttering, Jungkook's tone grew breathier, heady as he confessed. You almost giggled at how bashfully he worded his desire to dominate you, to rough each other up, but the contrast was so hot you couldn't help sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, eager for him to continue. His voice lowered. "I love being scratched, marked, bitten...hit me, push me back, any kind of pain or any way you can hurt me, I want it." He shivered, but his voice firmed up even further. "I want it so bad."

You fought to stay motionless beside him, unable to even process how much more his honesty had turned you on. You felt helpless in your desire for him, your craving to give him everything he wanted and more. He noticed your charged stillness and shifted toward you, removing a hand from his hair to finally reach for your face. Threading his fingers through your hair instinctively like he had with his own, he tilted your head back to access your neck. Jungkook finally felt confident enough to tease you back as he skimmed his lips over your pulse point, tugging your skin between his teeth for a gentle first taste and grinning when you moaned. Seeing someone so satisfied, for reasons better than just his body or their pride, brought the most incredible rush of blood to his head. And his other head.

"And I get why you want it too," he finished with a whisper in your ear. "So trust me when I say I really, really want to give it to you."

In an instant, your hands yanked his hair down to bring his face up to yours, mouths crashing together. Feverish, restless, you kissed him, hastily attempting to straddle his thick thighs before he threw his body over yours and pinned you to the back of the couch. His hands wandered, intrepid, from your waist to a quick squeeze of your breasts before he spiraled you into his strong arms. Pressing your chest flush with his as your mouths meshed, he ground his hips into you shamelessly, enjoying the way you struggled beneath him to align your core with his rock-hard dick.

"Your room?" You rushed out the words.

Jungkook laughed a little, his tone half whine and half dare. "So we're done talking?"

"Come on," you pleaded back. He finally relented, pulling you up with him and dragging you across the living room and through his door, lips not leaving yours for a second. You backed him into the bed with your arms against his strong chest, and once he was sitting perched on the edge, you laid yourself horizontally over his thighs.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, curling a hand over the dip of your waist to hold you gently.

You angled your head back to make unsteady eye contact with him, flipping your shorts down boldly. His free hand automatically reached to slowly conform to the shape of your ass, so eager to touch you but tentative as he grazed your curves.

"Giving you exactly what you want."

"Fuck. Really? You're sure about this?" Jungkook held careful eye contact as you brought your arms back up, crossing your wrists over your head delicately. You nodded slightly and did your best to meet his gaze with confident invitation, convincing him how much you trusted and wanted him.

He smoothed his warm hand over your ass one more time, then brought it up and watched your thighs tighten at the loss of his touch. Breathing in, still a little shakily, he brought his hand down on your right cheek with a loud but mild smack. A grunt of satisfaction involuntarily left him when he saw your face flinch down into the sheets, subduing a small noise of surprise. He returned his hand to caress the light redness he'd left, checking in with you again. "Is this okay? Let me know if I should stop."

You replied with your face still tucked between your arms, muffled by the bed. "More than okay. Please don't stop."

He spanked you again, moving to your left cheek. This time you felt his dick twitch under you and couldn't help grinding down on him a little bit. "Is that as hard as you can go?" you taunted in low tones, brave enough to egg him on but not quite enough to meet his eyes again.

Jungkook's thighs and core tensed under you, and he squeezed his fingertips tighter, digging into the skin of your ass. "Not at all," he said simply.

Deep breath. A few seconds passed, and his hand came down, harshly. You cried out in shock, the timing unexpected and the sting far sharper, and he gave your other cheek a fourth hard smack before you could even process the third one. "Harder?" he tested. "Tell me."

Another spank. "Mmmf."

"You like this, huh?"

"Yes, I told you," you whimpered back, half-teasing even though you were in no position to do so. Immediately, he cut you off with a stinging hit across both cheeks, and you moaned.

"You really do," he breathed lowly. "Fuck yeah. Take it then."

He spanked you again, and again, then paused, tugging down your shorts all the way to your ankles to expose the crease right above your thighs. Rubbing your already sore bottom, Jungkook cupped the underside of its curve in his big, firm hand. Already anticipating your whine, he drew back his touch and hummed in harmony with you. He continued landing satisfyingly hard smacks, alternating to cover your ass evenly. His dick strained through his pants more and more each time you trembled under his touch. Never hitting you hard enough to do serious damage, he still clearly enjoyed his thorough reddening of your ass, and occasionally took a moment just to caress your skin as it warmed from the spanking. The pain lit your senses up from head to toe. Face burning with deep arousal, you mentally thanked yourself for going out of your comfort zone and unprecedentedly admitting your kinks before even venturing into your first time together. Amidst the thrilling sting of his hand meeting your soft curves, Jungkook eventually noticed your thighs clenching together, craving friction but not really wanting relief from the pleasurable burn.

"You're wet," he marveled, sliding two warm fingers up and down your slit.

"Mhm," you mumbled back as you tilted your hips into his hand. He gave you a light slap right on the folds between your legs, eliciting another soft moan.

"So good for me," Jungkook said softly, pulling you up into his lap by your waist. "You look so pretty like this. I wanna see all of you." He tugged your sweatshirt over your head, followed by your sports bra, thankful that it stretched over your head easily. Suddenly grinning, he wound up and shot it across the room like a rubber band, and you smacked his arm, giggling.

"What was that? You cheeseball," you teased, and he blinked, chuckling lightly back. It occurred to him that he'd never laughed, or made someone laugh, during sex before.

"It was so stretchy! Don't make fun of me," he blushed.

"You're so cute," you said, fingers sliding under his t-shirt hem.

"Cute?" His eyebrows rose in mock disbelief, and he reached around to land another hit to your still-red asscheek.

"Hot," you amended. Raising his shirt and finally getting a full glimpse of his enviable abs, you groaned. "You're extremely hot, and also really cute, and it's kind of ridiculous and I don't really know how to handle all of it at once."

His face scrunching up into a smile at the praise, he fell back onto the bed with his arms behind his head. "You are too, you know. Really cute, of course. But really hot too." As you discarded his shirt and moved on to easing his sweatpants down his hips, you held in a gasp as his erection sprung up from the waistband. He was big, thick, and painfully hard, his tip glistening warm with precum and a lone vein running prominently up his smooth shaft. Although you wouldn't be corroborating them, you had to admit to yourself that all the rumors were true. You instinctively curled a hand around it, barely covering half his length, and he winced at your slightest touch. Pulling off with a single slow stroke, you slid his sweatpants and briefs all the way to the floor and then stood, looking up from his legs to his blown-out eyes to take in the glorious sight of his fully naked body.

"You shave," you said, surprised by the clean skin under his arms and between his legs.

"Yeah," he demurred, self-conscious for some reason. He lowered his arms to fold them over his torso, somehow defining his biceps even more. "I'm on the dance team, and it's nice to feel all smooth for practice and stuff. I don't know, I just like it."

"Oh, that's cool! No worries, I like it too. And you don't mind that..." You looked down at yourself, still just standing naked in front of him. "...I don't? Like, down there at least."

"No, you do you!" he said quickly. With a shy smile, he admitted, "I actually kind of like it on you. I do this for me, anyway, not for anyone else," he playfully noted. Slowly, he was sitting up to take hold of your waist and lower you down to the bed with him. Pausing to kiss the sweet spot under your jaw, he continued. "So don't feel like you have to do anything, or not do anything, either."

Jungkook couldn't quite explain the nature of how his attraction to you had developed. Seeing how open and honest you were with him made it easy for him to be honest with you too, and just to feel comfortable being himself. He admired the way he could still tell you sometimes got nervous like him, but it didn’t stop you from getting real or going bolder. Unable to fully express it in words, he just hoped to ensure you felt as comfortable and respected around him as he did around you. He already knew that he wanted this to be more than just a one-time thing, and while he still hesitated to assume that you felt the same, he intended to leave no doubt by the end of the night.

You moaned as he nipped at the skin of your neck. It was so easy to get swept back up in Jungkook. You could barely handle the friction of his dick rutting against your wet folds from below, craving him inside you. "Ughhh. Wait, one more thing. I'm on the pill, are you clean?"

"Yes," he gasped, barely removing his mouth from your jaw. "Are you?"

"Yeah, so we don't need a condom. If that's cool with you!"

"Yeah! But, you're ready?" He seemed surprised.

"Aren't you?" you whined, beyond holding back. He felt so unbearably hard that his coherence and willpower kind of surprised you too. "Please, I want you so bad."

To your surprise, he lowered his head to the crest of your legs, dotting wet kisses down your torso. Keeping his big brown eyes on you, he teased your entrance with a finger and echoed your immediate groan at the welcome stretch.

"You really are ready," he remarked, awed at the ease with which your wetness sucked the digit in. Frankly, you were in awe as well. It had taken your ex-boyfriend months to figure out how to get you this worked up. Jungkook either had even more experience than you'd heard from the grapevine, or he was a natural. Or maybe you were just really, ridiculously, primally attracted to him. He went on to curve his finger in you and lick a messy swipe up your folds, sucking hard once he reached your sensitive clit. You cried out at the delicious burst of stimulation and he rose up to catch your lips with his.

"I had to do that, just once," he grinned breathlessly. "But—"

"Let me suck you off," you interjected, unbelievably fucking turned on and dying to please him.

"No," he gasped with far more fervency than you'd think anyone could refuse a blowjob. "Please, I was about to say—" he choked out a high-pitched moan as you ran a single finger up his shaft in anticipation, sinking the nails of your other hand into his thigh. "—I think I'm gonna explode if I don't get inside you right this second."

So he did have a breaking point. "Fuck," you muttered, bringing your legs around his to tuck your heels under his tight ass as he lined up. He eased his tip in, keeping heavy eyes on you the whole time, and you could feel the hot, thick tension in his thighs as he struggled to hold himself back from just thrusting into your heat. Slowly, he drew closer into you until he bottomed out with a low moan. You whined at the perfect slight pain of the stretch, and Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, gripping you by your waist. Watching the veins in his forearms stand out as he drove almost all the way out and back into you, you rocked your hips carefully against his with each smooth stroke, getting used to his fullness. When his balls met your ass again, he shuddered a bit and opened his eyes into yours.

You answered his question before he could even ask it. "Jungkook—you feel so good. You can go faster, it's okay."

A smile hit his eyes before his mouth, and he kissed you once, pressing his chest to yours and intertwining your tongues eagerly. You bit his bottom lip as he slowly drew away, tugging it between your teeth to pull a sweet little whimper from his throat. Grinning, he leaned back in to touch his forehead to yours and simultaneously slid a subtle hand under your ass to curve your hips up with his. The slight leftover sensitivity of your skin amplified his light touch, and Jungkook seemed to realize this, curling his fingers to tease you with the tips of his nails. Instinctively, you ducked to bite his neck, not even registering your move to pass the pain back to him until he choked out a beautifully half-restrained moan and snapped his hips into yours. Gasping, you encouraged him to lose himself in you, dragging your lips up to latch around his earlobe. He hissed and thrust into you sharply again, meeting the time of your movements as you swirled your tongue between each of his hoop earrings. Soon he was pounding you rhythmically, finally letting you feel the full force of his strength but keeping remarkable control over both his body and yours. Both of you had gone silent except for your heavy breaths, lost in the moment, but the flexed shivers of his thighs and twitches of his fingers in your hair told you all you needed to know. Suddenly yanking your strands to pull you back from the additional bruise you'd sucked beneath his ear, he earned a new set of scratches on his back as your hands dragged down the muscular expanse in reply. Jungkook switched places with you to draw dark clouds from your skin, a storm brewing under your jaw. Your face fell into pure bliss, eyes shut and immersed in the barrage of sensation from his hands, mouth, and big dick filling you. Already feeling the familiar tension that preceded an orgasm building through your whole body, you chased him closer to his climax too, grinding back roughly into every thrust and raking your hands over every part of his firm body you could reach.

You had really been fooling yourself when you thought you could try something casual for once. You wanted more of Jungkook, all of Jungkook, nothing but Jungkook ever again. Knowing he'd never even gone back to the same hookup twice sank slight anxiety into your stomach, a kind of future nostalgia for this moment you already feared losing. You knew you weren't anything special compared to the catalogue of gorgeous girls he'd had his turn with, but a deviant voice whispered from the back of your mind that you could be, because it was clear none had bothered to learn him like this. You'd still try your desperate best not to want too much from him, but you resolved to do whatever you could to make him crave more.

Rolling your hips in a smooth circle against him, you clenched around his dick and your hands tightened their fierce hold on his tiny waist. You felt his abs tense within your grasp as he tried not to stutter into you.

"Fuck. No." His voice cracked, but held an undertone of ferocity. "You come first." Jungkook rushed a hand to your clit, adding pressure in small, deft motions with a fingertip as he kept fucking you deep. You sank your teeth into his shoulder in response, drawing your hands up his back to clutch him closer to you, and Jungkook cried out. You left your mouth on his golden skin to stifle your moans as he sped up his fingers, and he tried to let you stay there but eventually couldn't help pulling you off him to see your face. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows turning up sharp at the ends, he watched you like a hawk to track the exact moment when he pushed you over the edge. Your face crumpled and you felt your whole body burn under his gaze as you came, squeezing around him in waves of pleasure while he fucked you through your high, unrelenting. Drinking up the bliss obvious on your features, Jungkook's eyes never left yours and his expression grew more and more fucked out. You marveled at how even as you lost control and energy to fuck him back, your body freezing in orgasm seemed to turn him on further. One last pulse of the tension leaving your core made his dick throb inside you, and you impulsively broke your eye contact to lean in and bite down slow but hard on his neck again. He gasped.

"You're amazing." Murmuring into his skin, you kissed the bite marks gently. Jungkook whimpered at the sweet contradiction and lurched into your hips even harder. You recovered to move with him, squeezing him deeper into you every time he bottomed out, and as his breathless moans escalated in pitch, his whole body shivered with each stroke. Pressing wet, heavy kisses all over his neck, you felt his jaw flutter while his lips hung open. His considerable strength spent, Jungkook shuddered one last hard thrust into you and finally let go, coating your walls from within. His hips lightly rocked against yours as he stayed deep inside you, still hard and savoring the euphoric release he'd held back for so long. You felt so incredibly warm and comfortable around his sensitive dick, relaxed but still holding him tight, and he couldn't help holding you up for a languid kiss before pulling out of you smoothly.

He briefly looked into your eyes, and you saw stars. The sun had continued to set outside, and it peeked between the blinds of his window to wrap you both in a warm, slivered glow. Staring down at his hands on your body, Jungkook took a deep breath and collapsed to your side, holding you close. You settled into him, cupping a hand over his head on your chest. With your fingers laced through his sweaty hair, you stroked his temple with your thumb, worrying for a second whether the gesture seemed too intimate but forgetting your fear when he snuggled up into your touch. You felt the need to say something, to figure out what the fuck was next after this, but stayed silent, not wanting to disturb the comforting weight of his frame. Heartbeat still racing, Jungkook stretched out to breathe a long sigh. As he sank back into you, you stretched under him too, letting his solid, warm body drape over you like a blanket. This couldn't be farther from what you'd expected with him, but you weren't about to make it stop. Surely, eventually, he would.

A minute passed. And then five. And then, before either of you could talk yourselves out of it, you were asleep, intertwined.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #college!jungkook #college au!jungkook #bts college au #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #my writing #fic: anti-hero #anti-hero #anti hero

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orionlakehastodie · 4 years ago

Text

Caspian, Jason and Showers

A Bensie NSFW Fic

Inspired by the following cute things I picked up on interviews:

1.Jessie had a Prince Caspian poster on her wall as a kid

2.Ben knows Jessie's mum calls her Jason

WARNINGS: Bit of Dom! Ben

Jessie didn't want to say that she had a big crush on Ben as a thirteen year old when Prince Caspian came out because that would mean admitting that her first orgasm was humping her pillow imagining she was humping him.

She had gotten over the crush, was 100% sure that she was over it, so when he walked into a room, and smiled at her and she got so, so wet immediately after she knew she was fucked.

So is it any wonder that he's now here, in her childhood home, spending Christmas with her mum shirtless on her bed?

They agreed to not have sex, not while her parents and her brother are in the same house, but seeing Ben interact with her mum and help her dad carve the turkey and listen with apt interest with her brother's mundane prep school life just turned her on so much.

He was such marriage material her pre-historic hind brain is screaming at her womb to get filled by this beautiful man who laughed so loudly and so genuinely and made her family love him.

For goodness sake, she thought, smiling down at him as his dopey smile appeared as she pulled off her shirt revealing her ratty but comfortable sports bra.

"I love you." His eyes dart up to her at that point in time, and that was a feat in and of itself because Ben loves her tits, and he opens his arms wide and she falls into his chest with a laugh and snuggles against her most favorite place in the world - his neck.

His arms tighten around her and he peppers the top of her head with kisses.

"And I." Kiss. "Love." Kiss. "You." Kiss. "Jason". She laughs as Ben blows into her ear at the last word and trails a hand down to pat affectionately at her bum.

She playfully twists his nipple at the jest and he laughs, that wonderful heartfelt, tinkling laugh of his - and she realizes since meeting Ben, all her days were filled with laughter and sunshine.

"If you ever call me Jason while we're making love I'm going to dump you. I don't want to remember my mum when you're balls deep in me."

His hands start to knead at her bum now, covered only by her reindeer themed pajama shorts, his fingers trailing closer to the edge of the cloth.

"Oh my you were not joking about the Caspian poster. It's right over your bed."

She feels heat crawl up her cheeks as she lifts her head from his neck and turns to see his poster, in a perfect view of the bed. From this point it looks like he was looking right at you.

"Yeah... well..."

He picks up on her tone, because Ben knows her so well and his eyebrows cock up. "Jason. Naughty little Jason."

"Don't even- Ben!"

He rears up and flips them over, slotting his hips in between hers, his semi rubbing against her core.

"Jason, did you or did you not, fuck yourself on this bed while thinking of me?"

She shoves at his chest, blush spreading down to her chest. "Oh this is so embarrassing."

Ben laughs and takes Jessie's hand, kissing all her fingers before quickly tugging on the waistband of her shorts and slipping it down. She was bare underneath, her thighs sticky from her arousal.

Ben's eyes darken as she lay in her childhood bed, in nothing but her ratty sports bra, with his poster on the wall.

"Such a beautiful pussy." His fingers reach out to tap at her clit, once, twice, and she bites back a moan.

"I can't be quiet Ben."

It was true. One time on set Archie passed out on the spare bedroom in Ben's apartment in Budapest and when morning came he glared at the both of them for keeping him up until 4 in the morning on a 7:30 call time.

Sex with Ben can never be a quiet experience. He was too big, and long. And he knew just where to thrust to make her come. And she would come until her mind was numb and all she knew was the feel of his cock spurting inside her, filling her.

"It's okay. I won't fuck you. I want you to show me. Show me how you fucked yourself to a picture of me."

He takes her hands again, guiding them to her core.

Shit. That was so hot. And he smiles at her again, that lethal smug Ben smile as her breathing picked up and he slipped his own hands inside his boxers to pull out his thick cock.

She rubbed at her clit hard as he traced a thumb through his glans, spreading the precum.

Her eyes go to his face, but his eyes are trained on her pussy.

"Spread those lips for me, fuck. Show me that pussy. Jessie, love, fuck."

Ben never gets like this, but fuck if he wasn't so hot right now.

She takes both hands and spreads her lips apart, feeling her arousal spill from her tiny hole and trail down her ass.

"Fuck." Ben's voice growls as he reaches with a finger to catch the slick dripping between her pussy and her ass and brings it to his mouth.

"Fingers, inside you now. Two. Spread yourself please darling.

She was panting now, definitely panting as she inserted two fingers inside her and watched as Ben gripped his cock tightly.

"Ben. Oh God, Ben."

Her other hand rubbed frantically at her clit, she was so close, so close.

"Did you say my name? Did you say my name Jessie, when you made yourself cum to me?"

"Yes. Oh yes."

"Tell me. Tell me what you thought I'd do."

She was so close. So close she was in that place where pleasure and pain blurred

"Ben please."

"Tell me. Tell me and I'll do it to you sweetheart, tell me."

"Fuck I imagined your cock. I imagined you slamming into me. Filling me. I... I imagined you sucking at my tits."

He growls and she feels the bed dip as he shoves her sports bra up and out of the way fingers pinching at a nipple. He pulls her hand from inside her cunt and she almost cries the peak so near, when he replaces it with his cock.

"Oh fu-"

He swallows her scream with his mouth, as shoves his cock inside her, in one smooth pass, assisted by her copious slick and notches right under her cervix.

Her back arches as his balls slap against her ass.

"FUck you're so tight, so wet, Jessie, look, look at how my cock fills you. You take it so well. So well."

She can see an imprint of his cock pop up in her tummy with every deep thrust. He has never been this deep in her before, never this hard, this big, and she was so near to the edge that it only took one flick of her clit to drive her over, her legs shaking around him, as she came.

She frantically seeks his mouth the scream building in her throat as he switches angles and hits her right there again, and again, and again until she's cumming again. Legs frantically trying to close, but Ben's hands are spreading them, lifting her shaking and all but biting her tongue to not moan out loud and pumping into her at a fast pace.

"Ben!" She opens her eyes, sees him focused on how her pussy swallows his cock. "Ben, I can't anymore. It's too much."

"One more. Just one more. You can come one more time for me."

His hands rub at her clit, his head ducks down to suckle at her breast and then she turns her head and catches sight of his poster and the sensations were all too much and she explodes, pussy spasming so tight she pushes his cock out and liquid spurting out of her like a geyser.

Ben holds stock still, mouth dropping, as his eyes, so dark now meet hers.

"Did you just squirt?"

She has no words, unable to catch her breath with her pussy still spasming so hard.

"Did your just fucking squirt? Fuck you're so hot, bloody fuck."

His hands paw at her batting her legs open and he licks traces of her liquid at her pussy and she shoves his head away, too sensitive for the assault of his tongue but Ben is relentless and she comes again and squirts for him.

"Ben, Jesus... I can't-"

But her words die in her throat as his cock plunges into her again. Moving at a reckless pace, not even pulling out, just grinding into her as he buries to the hilt.

"I'm going to fill you. I'm going to fulfill your every fantast."

She wraps her legs around his hips, helping him piston into her, and her hands grab at his ass.

"Come then. Come inside me Ben, please."

He thrusts once, and spurts in her, and she feels it deep inside her, so hot, so much, filling her insides.

He collapses on top of her, mouthing at her breast as he catches his breath.

Her fingers bury in his hair as she tries to at last catch her breath.

"I should..." Her voice comes out in a croak, and he laughs and she swats at his ass playfully.

"I will put up a poster of Caspian in our apartment. If it makes you into this sex God I'll even paper our apartment with Caspian."

He was becoming sleepy she can feel him grow heavier on top of her.

"Have you ever... come like that before?"

"Never. And don't you be smug about it Benjamin Thomas."

He grunts and rolls over, his cock slipping out of her, causing their mixed juices to spill out of her.

"I should clean you... but... so warm."

He settles her on his chest, hands rubbing soothing circles on her back and soon she too, feels the lure of sleep.

"I love you, Jessie."

She smiles, settling his cheek over his still racing heart. "I love you too."

#ben barnes #jessie mei li #bensie #darklina #i am a clown #i need to know when ben met jessie's mum and heard her call jessie jason #jessie's dad also knows ben #i need answers

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frenemies-to-lovers · 4 years ago

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The Glint of Your Blade | Jurdan Fluff (Jude POV)

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Just some Jude/Cardan fluff inspired by the Folktober 2020 prompt (I am phenomenally late to the party). Set after QON. There’s some sparring, some magic, and some making out.

((One-shot. 3820 words. Just fluff. Heat level: somewhere between mild and medium))

[Read on AO3]

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“I thought I might find you here,” Cardan’s familiar voice says from behind me, startling me and breaking my concentration. I lower Nightfell and turn to face him.

“You could have tried to make a little noise when you entered the room. It isn’t wise to startle someone with a sword in their hand,” I say, pushing my sweat-dampened hair out of my face.

“Perhaps. But you didn’t so much as point it at me, so perhaps I needn’t worry whether you’re armed or not,” he grins.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t stab you,” I retort. He merely hums in response, and I wonder what the truth is. Whether he believes I would or I wouldn’t, he’s unwilling to say.

He takes a step closer and I notice that his face is bare of it's usual golden shimmer and he’s wearing a plain black cloak. He must have had some time to wash and change before heading down to the Court of Shadows, where I’ve been practicing my swordsmanship since I left the brugh after dinner. Leaving Cardan to the revelry on his own.

“Are you planning on sneaking out this evening?” I ask, sweeping the tip of my sword up to point out his attire.

“Only if you wish to. I came to see if I could lure you away. You’ve been down here for quite some time,” he says.

That makes me smile. That he missed me.

“I didn’t realize,” I say honestly. “I’m having a hard time unwinding.” Despite having no immediate threats, court politics are always stressful. There are always dangers lurking throughout Elfhame, and I worry that I cannot anticipate them all.

“Why aren’t you sparring with The Ghost?” he asks.

“I sent him home. I knew he’d rather be spending time with Taryn. And every time we spar lately, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that he’s probably old enough to be our father but he’s also my sister’s... boyfriend? It’s distracting. And kind of gross,” I say, making a face. He laughs.

“Then why not just drink some wine to ease your tension like the rest of us do?” I know he is teasing. I still haven’t developed a taste for alcohol, and do not drink beyond making toasts at feasts and revels.

“I needed to burn off some nervous energy. Wine doesn’t really help with that,” I answer.

“I know something that can help burn off that nervous energy,” Cardan murmurs, voice all honey and silk. He raises a black eyebrow and gives me his most mischievous grin. A sudden spike of heat rushes through me, and I know my face is flushed.

It has been months since I returned to Elfhame, since Cardan was cursed and then restored, since we began ruling together. Since we began sleeping together, and sharing the royal chambers. Since it became public knowledge that we are married -- something that is definitely still weird if I think about it too hard. The better part of a year has passed, and I still get a little flustered whenever he’s particularly forward. It probably encourages him, actually.

Not that I mind it. Not really.

“How about… I’ll try your way if you can disarm me.” I nod at the rack of weapons on a wall of the training room. My training room.

The Roach told me that it was something Cardan had insisted on for the new Court of Shadows. For me. Cardan and I had never actually talked about my training habits, but he must have made some assumptions about them based on what he had seen, what he had known. Those assumptions had made me feel truly and completely seen.

“My way?” That mischievous grin seems to grow wider. “Very well, Jude.”

Cardan goes to the rack, removing and hanging up his cloak before retrieving his sword -- his own sword, made for him by the newest resident smith at the palace. I was a little surprised when he had recruited my help in having it commissioned for him, as I knew he wasn’t partial to swordplay.

He had responded by telling me that perhaps he would find it more interesting with an instructor he was fond of looking at.

He turns back toward me and slices his sword through the air in large, sweeping strokes and then smaller ones. I catch myself looking him up and down as he moves. He is wearing plain black clothing, but it is still perfectly tailored to his frame. He catches my eye and I know he caught me staring, that he knows I wasn’t even thinking about critiquing his form. He grins at me again, and I glare back at him.

“Are you ready, then?” I ask, trying to sound detached.

He takes another few passes with his sword, these ones more purposeful. His skills with a blade are improving, but he still has a long way to go. He seems to sense the same thing in those few movements.

“I may have been a little overconfident in agreeing to your terms. How about we spar until I get under your guard, rather than disarming you?” he asks.

You’re always under my guard. The thought comes to me unbidden, comforting and startling in equal measure. Rather than say that, I try to appear as though I am considering his proposal.

“Alright,” I finally respond. “As a reward for your humility in acknowledging my superior swordsmanship, I will accept your terms.”

“Very generous, my queen,” he says, giving me a small bow and taking up a ready position.

I step toward him and raise Nightfell. His gaze sweeps over me slowly, his face full of determination and desire. I feel the force of his attention like a caress, intimate and possessive. I find my cheeks heating, unsure if his reaction is sincere or if it is an attempt to throw me off balance before we even begin.

I clear my throat.

“Are you quite done ogling me?” I raise an eyebrow as his eyes meet mine.

“I wasn’t ogling. I was. . . admiring your form.” He grins and lets his eyes wander again. I’m pretty sure there’s a blush all the way to my toes, but I refuse to be distracted by it. I hate that he knows how to use his charm on me, and that I’m responsible for the fact that he views it as a weapon to be wielded.

“Let’s begin, then,” I say.

Because his sword is at the ready, I don’t give him any other warning before I advance. I take a cautious swing to test his reflexes, neither as fast nor as strong as I know he is capable of deflecting. He blocks it effortlessly and I am pleased that he was still paying enough attention to be ready for my attack.

He does not return to a defensive position as I expect, but immediately presses into the offense. He swings quickly, but I parry. I see him ready to strike again and step out of his reach, allowing him to waste the effort. There are two ways I usually win with Cardan: I either let him tire himself out with repeated attempts to land a blow, or I tire him out by putting him on the defensive until he makes a mistake.

Since we have been practicing regularly, he has the skill to hold his own in a sparring match, but not the stamina. He has gotten strong, but he still moves a half a beat too slowly, still having to think about what he will do before he moves. My own body reacts more automatically, a lifetime of training and practice informing my steps without conscious thought.

He swings and jabs and strikes, over and over again. I deflect and parry and avoid his attacks, watching as the effort begins to take its toll on him. His breath is coming more rapidly, and his face is beginning to slip just a little. While he never wears the haughty expression I am used to seeing him deploy in public, he tries to keep his face cool and neutral when we spar. Now he looks intently focused on our battle, his eyebrows furrowed just a little in frustration.

“You seem to be tiring, my king,” I say, twisting away from him as he tries to press me backward toward the wall. “Are you ready to concede?”

His movements have become slower, his strike not as powerful as it was when we began. To his credit, I am also moving more slowly and my hair is damp with sweat. Each of his movements seems to be taking more and more concentration.

“Perhaps, my queen.” He strikes, and I block his blow but he continues pressing, our blades locked together. He presses forward and brings his face in as close as possible while avoiding the path of our crossed swords. He gives me a coy smile. “But I will save enough strength to ensure you’re properly spent before we’re finished.”

He withdraws his sword and readies to strike again. I automatically move to avoid the blow, but I am surprised to find myself falling backward. I bring my sword arm up in defense as I hit the hard packed earth of the floor. My free arm and hip are going to be bruised from the impact. I look down and see a vine coiled around the toe of my boot.

A cheap move, but effective.

Much like some of my own best moves.

He is turning out to be a much more apt pupil than I anticipated. He may have a lot to learn about swordplay, but he is an excellent strategist.

I look up, trying to school my expression away from wide-eyed shock to something more menacing. He is advancing on me slowly, his sword still raised, but he isn’t moving quickly enough to press his advantage. If he thinks he can best me by tripping me, he’s going to be sorely disappointed.

I point my toe and begin to pull my foot out of my boot, but as I go to move my body, I realize too late that there are more vines sprouting up from the floor. I try to scramble backward, but there are too many and I am caught around my legs, my hips, and the arm I landed on when I fell.

Cardan wasn’t being cocky with his slow advancement, he was using my moment of confusion to continue focusing on using his magic. I’ve never seen him do that before, invoke his connection to the land without his full attention.

I move to cut myself free from the encroaching vines with my sword, but the creeping plants have finally reached up my side and are beginning to pull even my sword arm down. I am well and truly trapped. Cardan tosses his sword to the side and stands above me for a moment, one side of his mouth lifting in a rakish grin that is taunting and beautiful. I am propped up on my elbows, vines covering my body, holding me in place. My hand still grips Nightfell uselessly.

“Clever,” I admit. “The initial maneuver was a distraction to buy you enough time for the finishing move. You’ve been paying attention.”

His grin widens, bright and mischievous.

“You haven’t seen my finishing move yet,” he says, kneeling over me, one of his legs between mine. He pulls Nightfell from my hand. To his credit, he doesn’t toss it aside the way he did with his own, but gently places it behind him, far out of my reach.

He turns back to me and my heart speeds at his proximity.

“I seem to have won,” he says, eyes dragging down my pinned form and then back up. Then, movements slow, he leans over me and the moment stretches until his soft mouth brushes mine. A ghost of a kiss.

“This hardly feels like losing,” I breathe against his lips. He lets out a laugh as he kisses me again.

I feel the vines around my arms loosen, although the ones around my torso begin to tug at me. Cardan slips his hand beneath my head and he lays me down gently, using his magic as an extension of himself. His mouth continues to move against mine as I yield, my back against the floor. His kisses are still soft. A question. A plea. He pulls back momentarily and searches my flushed face.

My arms fully freed, I trace a line from his hand to his shoulder then sink my fingers into his curls. I look into his black eyes, his pupils blown wide with desire.

“Is this okay?” he asks in a whisper. He knows how much I dislike being out of control, and his asking makes me feel safe.

I nod, and tighten my fingers in his hair, pulling him back to me, kissing him hard. I bite his lower lip and I feel his arm move underneath me, clutching me tighter, pressing my body closer into his. The vines are still coiled around me from the waist down, rendering me unable to shift my hips against him the way my body wants to.

As he trails kisses down the column of my throat, I glance down and see flowers budding and blooming everywhere. Tiny, fragrant blooms in every shade of red, from crimson so dark it is almost black, to the faintest pink. I can feel them now. Not just the physical touch against my body, but the sensation of them brushing up against my own connection to the land.

Cardan can sense that something has changed, and he begins to pull away and rise to his knees. His breathing is ragged and his hair is a mess.

“Don’t stop,” I say, fisting a hand in the front of his shirt and yanking him back toward me. He looks briefly surprised but allows me to tug him down, bracing his hands on either side of my head. “I was just. . . distracted by the flowers. I’m okay.”

His eyes scan the floor around me, the vines still holding me around the waist, pinning down my legs. He looks surprised to see them covered in blooms.

“I didn’t even mean to do that,” he admits. That makes me give a short laugh.

“You do that on accident kind of a lot,” I say.

My hand is still clenched in the fabric of his shirt and I pull him down further, our mouths sliding together again.

“You seem rather unperturbed by being rendered defenseless,” he whispers between kisses. His mouth moves back to my neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses down to my collarbone “You must like being at my mercy.”

I hum noncommittally and angle my chin to give him better access. I focus again on feeling him, feeling his magic through the connection we both share with the land. I peek down at him briefly, and see that he is totally lost in the moment, eyes closed and cheeks flushed.

“You know what I like even better?” I ask, unclenching my hand from the front of his shirt and slowly raking it down his chest, brushing my fingertips down the flat plane of his stomach. After a perilously long descent, I finally hook a finger inside the waist of his pants. His eyes flash up to mine and I feel the heat, the intensity like a physical blow.

“Tell me,” he demands, voice rough.

“Winning,” I say with a grin.

With my other hand, I swiftly pull the dagger from my boot and hold the flat of the blade against his throat. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe as the vines fall away from my body.

“Your distraction was better than mine,” he says, grinning. “Although a different opponent would not be able to escape so easily.”

“I’m glad you thought that was easy. I still have difficulty calling on the land. And it doesn’t like to work against you,” I say.

“It doesn’t like to work against you, either. But I, unlike you, always have the purest of intentions.”

I raise an eyebrow and open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.

“I merely sought to disarm you. You’re the one holding a knife to my throat,” he points out.

“This is just a reminder that you didn’t disarm me. I’m not even touching you with any of the sharp parts,” I protest.

I begin to pull the knife away, but his hand shoots to my wrist and holds it there.

“Don’t,” he says, his head dipping down again, his forehead coming to rest against mine. He turns my hand and brings the razor-shape edge into just the barest contact with his skin.

“This,” he whispers, letting go of my wrist but not pulling away at all as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, “the glint of your blade, the edge of your dagger against my throat . . . it brings back a very fond memory.”

“You really do have depraved tastes.” I kiss him then, remembering that first kiss as our mouths collide and I hold my blade still against his neck. It is different now, of course. It doesn’t feel as dangerous, but the desire is still just as potent as it was the first time. Maybe more potent now that he knows exactly how to kiss me, exactly where to touch to elicit the fastest and most powerful responses from me. I expect him to make one of those moves now, but his kiss remains gentle.

A little frustrated at being one-handed, I stab my knife into the dirt floor. Cardan chuckles at the sound and pulls back. He looks at me with a kind of reverence, bringing a hand to cup my face and brushing his thumb back and forth across my cheekbone.

“Are you ready to go tire yourself out my way?” he asks softly. I don’t trust my voice, so I just nod and plant another kiss on his soft mouth before he rises.

He offers me his hand, and I allow him to help pull me to my feet. I pluck my dagger from the earth, and put it back in my boot, then retrieve Nightfell and return it to the scabbard at my hip. Cardan has returned his sword to its rightful place and pulled on his cloak. He holds up another cloak, as though to help me into it.

“That seems like overkill when we have direct access to our chambers,” I say.

“We aren’t going to our chambers,” he responds, mischief lighting his face again. I know he wants me to ask, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I let him envelop me in the dark fabric.

We pull up our hoods and I follow him out of the Court of Shadows and through the secret passageways beneath the palace. I know these tunnels just as well as he does, but I am surprised to find him leading me to a secret entrance to the Great Hall. Cardan cracks the door and peers out. I can hear music and chatter, the revel still carrying on in the hours since we left.

He grabs me by the hand and pulls me out, but we stick to the shadows as we make our way around the back of the dais. I try to move as silently as Cardan as I follow him to what I now think of as our secret room, the doorway covered in ivy. He barely brushes it aside and opens the door only far enough for both of us to slip inside.

Before I can even react to what I assume he’s brought me here for, he grabs me around the waist and pulls my body close to his. But instead of pulling me in for a kiss, I realize he's pulled me in for a dance. His other hand is grasping my own and his feet are already beginning to move to the sound of the music from outside.

I lift my eyes to his and find him grinning down at me.

“My way,” he says as he leads me gracefully around the little room.

For as long as I have been teaching him the sword, he has been teaching me skills I thought would be useful to me as the queen. Dancing is one of them.

I have found that knowing the steps to a dance makes it easier to stay a little more in control, even when I get swept up by the compulsion of faerie music. Although I still cannot pull myself out of a dance once it has begun, I can choose my own steps rather than feeling as though the music is making them for me. When I do so, I am able to feel more of the exhilaration of the dance, and less of the dread.

At revels now, Cardan always looks for my signal at the end of any dance for which he is not my partner. If I touch my ruby ring, he will make his way toward me, cut in to dance with me, and pull me out of the crowd. Knowing that he is watching, knowing that he will always get me out if I am overset, is yet another way Cardan has helped me overcome some of the powerlessness I have felt all my life.

The music that I hear coming through the wall now is faint enough that it has hardly any pull on me. I could stop if I wished, but instead I try to feel the dance the way I felt the steps when we were sparring. Our skills are reversed here, Cardan gliding through the steps without any thought at all, while my movements are just slightly delayed -- the product of my having to consciously think about what comes next.

For a while, we continue dancing without much conversation. He says nothing when I make a misstep, simply leads me through it with the poise of someone who has done this his whole life.

The music outside grows quieter and slower, even the revelry beginning to die down. Cardan pulls me in close enough for me to lean my head against his shoulder.

“Jude?” his voice is soft, and I feel him running the tip of his finger along the rounded top of my ear. I open my eyes and look up at him. I hadn’t realized they’d drifted closed.

I realize suddenly that I love this room. It feels as though no matter what is going on outside these walls, only we exist within.

“Shall we go back to our chambers?” he asks.

“No,” I answer. I pull him with me to the low couch where we lie down together, his arms wrapped around me, my head on his chest.

“Let’s stay here a while.”

#tfota fanfic #tfota #jurdan #jude x cardan #judecardan #@jurdannet #@jurdannetrevels #folktober2020

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lesbian-percy-weasley · 4 years ago

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How To Make Your Crush Fall In Love With You In Three Easy Steps by Gay-Natasha-Saves-The-World (aka someone who is kind of tired right now)

Chapter 3: Just F^#%*#! Kiss Him Already

Ship: Perciver

Content Warning: Mild Swearing

Summary: Percy was left at school with no one to pick him up. When Oliver saw him after soccer practice he knew this had to be the time to confess

A/N: I don’t know what spirit of what classic literature author possessed me to be able to write 3 chapters of a fanfic in less than a week but I can guess it was Oscar Wilde

Oliver has been trying everything he could for the past two months to get Percy to like him. He’s been paying more attention to his appearance, he’s been reading the books Percy talked about, he’s even been giving him gifts and shit. But Percy had no noticeable change in affections towards him. He’s done everything but tell him.

He knows he should just tell him but he was so scared. What if Percy didn’t like him at all? What if he rejected him and it ruined their friendship? What if he was straight and thought Oliver was a creep. He knew that eventually he had to rip off the bandaid but it never seemed like the right time. Would it ever be the right time?

He couldn’t help but imagine what being his boyfriend would be like. Hanging out with him every day, letting him talk about all the smart shit despite him barely understanding it, sneaking off before practice to make out in his truck, being able to say he’s the most beautiful person in the world without being creepy. A smile always crept onto his lips when he thought about it.

And Percy felt the same way, he just wasn’t good at showing it. He noticed all the things Oliver was doing but he didn’t think it was because he liked him. He couldn’t possibly like him, right?

He’s seen Oliver around the school with his other friends. His friends were more attractive, charming, and socially apt than he will ever be. What does he have that Oliver could want? He couldn’t understand it.

He was fine being his friend. At least he told himself that.

It was 4:30 pm. Charlie should have picked him up by now. He had to stay late at school for the classic literature club. He knew his parents weren’t able to pick him up and told his brother to but it’s been 30 minutes. Cell service at the school was shit but the text went through and he didn’t get a response.

It wasn’t like he could just walk home. It was a 15-minute drive to get to school and it was downpouring. So he either had to wait for his brother to respond or for his parents to get off work. And that could easily be a couple of hours.

The school was already closed for the night so that means those couple of hours would be spent outside. This was gonna be the longest couple hours of his life. He sighed and threw his head back to the wall. This couldn’t possibly get worse.

Another 30 minutes had passed, still no reply from his brother. The rain still hadn’t stopped, if anything it got worse. The cold was starting to get to him as well. Between the rain still hitting him from under the overhang he parked himself at for the last hour, the frigid air was making his face and fingers numb. Why was the air so cold, it was May? There had to be someone who could drive him home. There just had to be.

“Percy? What are you still doing at school?” Oliver asked as he turned the corner. Percy slightly jumped from the surprise. “My brother was supposed to pick me up after school but I guess he forgot,” Percy chuckled uncomfortably, “What are you doing here?”

“I just got out of soccer practice.” Oliver paused for a moment. This conversation seemed more awkward than the ones they had before. “If you still need a ride, I can drive you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Percy got up to follow Oliver to his truck. He put his hood up to not get wet and walked right next to him.

They were both extremely wet when they got to the truck. Percy and Oliver were practically shivering.

“Thanks for this. I had no idea if I’d get picked up by someone.” Percy said while he was texting his brother he got a ride. “It’s really no problem. I’d do it anytime, for you.” Oliver responded

“Yeah, I guess that’s what friends do. But I’m still grateful, you know.” Percy tried to move one wet curl out of his face as he talked. Oliver groaned at this. The word friends hurt him more than it usually did. He couldn’t stand being just his friend anymore.

“Is something wrong?” Percy asked with genuine concern. “What do I have to do to make you realize I don’t just want to be your friend, Percy?” Oliver pained as he confessed. “What do you mean?” his full attention was now to Oliver.

“I mean,” He hesitated for a second. “I mean I’ve been trying everything I could think of to get you to even possibly think of me as more than a friend. I don’t know what else to do besides tell you.”

Percy was trying to comprehend this. His crush just confessed to him. This can’t possibly be happening. No this has to be some sort of prank. He quickly looked out the windows to see if anyone was around waiting to laugh at him.

Oliver was confused. This wasn’t one of the reactions he was expecting. It felt like forever before Percy finally responded.

“This has to be a joke, right?” Oliver's heart broke a little.

“Why would it be a joke, Percy?”

“Because,” Percy threw his hands down in defeat. “Why would you want to be with me when you could be with anyone else.” Oliver sighed in frustration. “I don’t like anyone else, I like you.”

“But why?” Percy was starting to sound a bit hysterical. “I don’t have anything going for me?”

“What are you even talking about.”

“I’m not charming or attractive or good at sports or anything. I can’t understand what you see in me.” The rain seemed extremely loud in his ear. The tension in the car was so thick Percy debated just leaving and getting away from it.

“You don’t see yourself as I see you, Percy,” Oliver whispered. “The day I first met you, I thought you were the most beautiful person I ever saw. And when I started talking to you I realized that you were smart and funny and nice and I would do anything for you. Please believe me when I say I want you and only you. Please, Percy”

Percy still was trying to process what was happening. He honestly didn’t believe anyone would like him, much less his crush. It didn’t seem possible. He couldn’t even think of how to respond, so he just nodded.

Oliver was so excited by his answer all he could think to do was kiss him. Percy wasn’t expecting it but as soon as he got used to it he kissed him back. It felt more right than anything he’s ever done.

After they pulled apart, neither of them could stop smiling. As much as they wanted to keep on kissing each other, both of them had to get home. Luckily Percy didn’t live too far from Oliver.

Percy insisted to be dropped off at the end of his driveway. Oliver was hesitant, it was still raining, but he obliged him. He kissed him and started walking home.

For a long time, Percy thought no one would ever love him in that way, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe no one else would need to if Oliver did. He had read many stories and poems and plays about true love and none of them fully expressed what it would feel like. Was it too soon to talk about true love? Perhaps it was but Percy didn’t care. This was the start of something real and something happy, it just had to be.

#percy weasley #harry potter #oliver wood #perciver #fanfiction #gay #percy weasley x oliver wood #muggle au

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dddainuhsoar · 4 years ago

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witch guanshan x warrior hetian

a fic au inspired by a movie that came out recently. you have 3 guesses to guess which movie it is. anyway, incomplete so read at your own risk... ^^

~2k words

traditionally, witches have been women. witches are beautiful women who ensnare their prey, and transform into docile, innocent animals - a fox, a snake, a bird - to escape in times of trouble. rather than being feared for their prowess, witches were revered. their spells brought rain for crops, their charms brought luck (or disaster; it depends which you are looking for) and their ability to convene with creatures proved more useful than horrific.

schools were set up and young girls with talent in magic were sent there to become enchantresses, sorceresses or fairies. after their studies, they were either sent to the imperial city to be part of the emperor’s court or army, or, if they chose, continue their studies to become deities. boys with talent in magic do not exist… unless they do and are incredibly apt at disguisement.

illusion spells, in fact, were the only kind of spells guanshan was any good at. he managed to trick everyone at school that he was a girl, but for what? he was failing at every other category. his parents sent him to study despite their fears that he would be discovered because they believed it would be a waste of his talent if he hadn’t gone. at first, he had thought he had talent in it too. he thought he was special, then he started studying at a school and realised he had overestimated himself.

girls were natural spell-casters. he, even though able to use magic, struggled to conjure even a single droplet of water. some of the instructors were appalled at his lack of ability, even suspected he was not truly a witch, but none ever saw through his illusion. no matter how much he sweated under their watchful gaze, trembled under their inspecting spells, or stuttered under the pressure of their inquisition, they simply never found out. sometimes, guanshan wished they would hurry and expose him already so he could quit this and go home.

after the instructors gave up trying to figure out what was wrong with guanshan, they stopped caring about him. he was too weak to teach, but too unique to be thrown out. some of the girls took pity on him and tried to help, but most just sneered at him. they weren’t too fond of people who were different. the crueller girls would play pranks, casting hexes on him that took him ages to learn how to remove.

i deserve a worse punishment, guanshan thought. he was a boy who studied, ate and slept with girls. it was immoral and lecherous. it was blasphemous, because witches were gods-to-be. he had no dishonourable thoughts about his schoolmates (he swore his right hand to it), but he was sure to punish himself at least once a day. many times, he would not be able to bear the guilt of lying next to the girls, who were flowering into women day-by-day, that he would sleep outside in the courtyard, on the stone floor, unsheltered by a roof or walls.

when one has to often sleep in such conditions, it is no surprise that they are in no shape to be practising spells in the day. it was self-sabotage, guanshan knew, and sooner or later, the instructors would throw him out. it was on one of his poorer-faring days, when he was forced to crouch till dinner as punishment for setting a tortoise’s shell on fire while the tortoise was still in there, that he met hetian, the second son of the chief of the he tribe.

guanshan’s tribe was known to produce the most fearsome witches. most of them carry on to lead battalions in the imperial army. and if there were a warrior-parallel for guanshan’s tribe, that would be the he tribe. the men from the he tribe were the most brutal and cunning warriors. they were not averse to using underhanded strategies to win a war, which made them incredibly useful to the imperial army but also risky. they were loyal to a fault to the chief of their tribe, and even the emperor was careful when it came to dealing with him.

a few members of the he tribe were visiting to train with the witches. since many witches would end up serving in the imperial army along with the warriors of the he tribe, it was a natural idea to have the two groups get used to each other as part of their training. together, they were invincible.

initially, guanshan was determined to ignore the boy and focus on building a shelter for the tortoise he was tasked to protect from the blazing sun he himself was being scorched by. he was given a large wooden bucket to fill with water by his teachers. once he had it filled, he could then put his tortoise in so it would stay hydrated. they wanted him to practise his water conjuration spells, he understood that, but he couldn’t understand why at the expense of an innocent tortoise. when his fingers ached from snapping and his throat parched from muttering the spell, he finally looked up at hetian, who had been staring at him the entire time from under his paper umbrella.

it was nice of hetian to shade guanshan from the sun (even though guanshan desperately wished he would go away before his teachers came to check on him) so he decided it was possible the young visitor would be willing to help him get water from the well in the neighbouring courtyard.

“you’ll have to show me,” hetian said. “this place is huge, i think i’ll get lost.”

guanshan glared at him. “just take that path to the left. it’s in that courtyard. i cannot leave this spot.”

“why not?”

“what do you mean ‘why not’? i’m being punished!”

“you’ll suffer a worse punishment if you let me get lost in this maze of an institution,” hetian said. “as it is, i’m already lost. i can’t find my way back to my hall.”

for a moment, guanshan wanted to throw the bucket at him. but they were too close to each other and guanshan was crouching so if he wanted to throw it, he had to throw upwards, which meant when it dropped back down, it might hit him in its trajectory. with a growl, he got to his feet. he carefully placed the tortoise in the bucket. it was barely moving, and he wondered if it was dead already.

“i’ll lead you back to your rooms after i fetch water for my tortoise,” guanshan offered, proud of his valiance. he could use the guest as an excuse if he bumped into one of his instructors.

the young man was handsome. unlike his tribe, hetian had pale skin and a lean build. he was taller than guanshan but he didn’t look much bigger, and guanshan was supposed to be a girl. hetian had his long raven hair half-up, tied with a red cloth ribbon. his cheeks were pink from walking under the heat of the sun, and his face glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. when he smiled, his gratefulness reached his eyes. it was the first time anyone had given guanshan a genuine smile since he stepped into this school. maybe that fact, coupled with the angry rays of the sun cooking his brain and that he hadn’t slept a wink last night, caused the skip in guanshan’s heartbeat.

“my name is hetian,” the young man introduced himself as they made their way to the well. “second son of the chief of the he tribe.”

“i know who you are,” guanshan said, grimacing. “you are our esteemed guest.”

“so you knew that and yet you made me wait to have your attention,” hetian mock-scolded. “is your tortoise an esteemed guest as well, then?”

guanshan nearly smiled at the quip. “this tortoise is hundreds and hundreds of years old, it is our senior in many ways.”

hetian gave him a studying look. “i have heard that witches feel an affinity to creatures, but i imagined more glamorous animals.”

“well, even though i cannot conjure up a lick of water and i have red hair,” guanshan said, gesturing airily to his head, “i have always communicated better with aquatic animals.”

the young chief-son laughed. “what does the colour of your hair have to do with the animals you commune with?”

“red,” guanshan shrugged. “it is the colour of flames, the opposite of water.”

“much of you is the opposite,” hetian said, helping guanshan lift the bucket onto the lip of the well.

“of what?” guanshan asked as he tied a secure knot to the handle of the bucket with the rope.

at the exact same time hetian answered, “of a witch,” guanshan yelped, “wait, my tortoise!” as hetian had already begun to lower the bucket into the well.

guanshan stretched into the well to reach for the bucket, which was ridiculously thoughtless because hetian could have simply pulled the bucket up again. doubtlessly, he lost his balance, was lifted off the ground by the off-balance and started a nosedive into the well. at least his desperation to save the tortoise forced a spell that levitated the tortoise safely into his arms out of him. mid-way in his descent, he felt two arms envelope him and immediately after, they plunged into the icy water.

water was coming out of his nose, eyes and mouth when guanshan resurfaced. he coughed and sputtered and hugged the struggling tortoise tightly to his chest with one arm. when he kicked his legs, he hit hetian who was behind him.

“are you all right?” he demanded. his voice bounced off the walls of the well as he finally let go of the tortoise to spin around in the water and face his unfortunate companion.

much to guanshan’s surprise, hetian laughed. it, too, bounced off the walls of the well. it sounded like magic. guanshan could feel the tortoise swim out from between them to scrabble at the opposite wall.

“well, seducer,” hetian proclaimed in between laughter, “you better get us out of this well.”

it was dark all the way down here and guanshan could barely see the face he desperately wished to see. he wanted to see what hetian looked like when he laughed till he could not speak, wanted to see how his long dark hair must be plastered to his face like seaweed, wanted to see the look on his face to know what he meant by putting his hands on guanshan’s waist. guanshan murmured a spell and despite there being too much moisture in the air to summon a flame, a ball of fire burst into existence above their heads. guanshan could see now. hetian could see now. or at least guanshan hoped he could.

“this is inappropriate,” guanshan muttered. “i mean,” he gulped as he studied hetian’s face. “a girl and a boy, who are almost of age, alone in a tight space together… it’s… scandalous…” even as he said it, he could feel the thin material of his clothes cling to the straight lines of his body, he could feel how his chest was flat against hetian’s own.

“we’re not alone,” hetian whispered. the fire above them casted the structure of hetian’s sharp features in stark relief. “we have an esteemed guest in our midst. right behind you. trying to climb the walls.” the scratching of the tortoise’s claws against stone suddenly became louder to guanshan, who laughed in response.

hetian still believed he was a girl. that meant even though he was caught off-guard by the fall and drenched to the bone, his illusion hadn’t wavered. his disguise was more powerful than he could ever imagine, and yet he half-wished it wasn’t.

guanshan pushed away from hetian and waded to his tortoise. he held the reptile gently, whispering something to it. it soon calmed down and waded closer to guanshan’s chest.

“i don’t have magic that can get us out of here,” guanshan explained sheepishly. “but i can send my flame up and hopefully someone will pass by and see it.”

“you mean you cannot turn into a bird or something that can fly?” hetian asked.

“no,” guanshan blushed, ashamed of his lacking abilities. “i have never been successful at full transfiguration.” even his disguise as a woman was enabled by a spell of illusion, not transfiguration.

hetian didn’t say anything. and later guanshan would wonder what he did or said to trigger it, but now hetian floated over, took guanshan’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. it took the person outside the well above them three tries to get their attention. when they were finally lifted out of the well by levitation spells casted by two separate instructors, hetian was immediately herded away to dry off in his rooms, and guanshan was ordered to return to the students’ quarters and stay there for the rest of the day without food.

with the hefty tortoise resting on his chest, and his clothes drying off by his trusty fire-light, guanshan lay on his bed and replayed the kiss over and over again in his mind.

#19 days #tianshan #mo guanshan #hetian #fic #tianshan fic

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spareseratoninplz · 4 years ago

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More Than Pain Bakugou x Reader CH. 1

**Warning: THIS SERIES WILL CONTAIN VIOLENCE, ADULT LANGUAGE, AND ADULT SITUATIONS, IF YOU- ah, who am I kidding, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t wanna read that stuff, so go ahead, be my guest. (Please be kind, this is my first ever tumblr post! 0=0)

I’ve known from a young age that I was different. Truth be told, I never wanted to be this way. I never wanted a quirk, but I guess that’s just the way things are now. Less and less people are born without a quirk, so when I developed mine at the age of two, I should’ve been happy, thrilled, even excited… but I wasn’t.

“She needs to be properly counselled. She needs to learn that lying is never okay, and this school will not condone it. ” The school nurse spoke to my mother as I sat quietly on the bench outside of the room as they continued their conference.

“Y-yes, I understand… but I’m still having trouble understanding what you said before… you mentioned that she had fallen.” Mother questioned, and I sighed quietly. I hadn’t told the nurse the whole story, and it wasn’t really my intention to do so.

“Typical behavior for a kid her age. They’ll do just about anything to get attention.” The chair she was sitting in creaked as she stood and strolled across the room.

“My daughter has never acted that way before… if she said she was hurt, then I’m apt to believe she wasn’t lying.”

A moment passed as the nurse seemingly thought over her next words carefully.

“There’s been a misunderstanding, Miss (L/N).” The nurse spoke.

“Your daughter never mentioned she’d been hurt. Her teacher sent her here after witnessing your daughter bullying another student.” She said.

Immediately my mother stood, knocking the chair she’d been sitting in backwards from the speed in which she stood.

“That’s enough!” She declared, causing my eyes to go wide.

“(Y/N) is a good kid. I know she would never be the bully in any situation.” she said, her tone demanding attention.

“I… I can understand why you would be skeptical… but there were witnesses.” The nurse said, and another moment of silence passed between them before my mother spoke again.

“We’re leaving.” She said simply before stepping through the door, and grabbing me by the hand to follow her towards the exit doors.

“Calling my daughter a ‘bully’... the nerve of some people!” Mother mumbled under her breath. I slipped my hand from her grip, and she stopped to look back at me as I frantically wiped at the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Oh sweetie…” She purred, kneeling in front of me to dry my eyes.

“Don’t listen to what that mean lady said. You’re not a bully.” She coaxed, and I shook my head, and tried to speak between sobs.

“B-B-But... *hic* M-Mommy, I-I… *hic* I really did *hic* push that kid down…*hic*” Her eyes widened, and then softened just as quickly as she retrieved a handkerchief from her back pocket to dab at my swollen, wet eyes.

“Oh sweetie… why?” She asked, and I had managed to calm down a bit.

“I… I wouldn’t have hit him if he hadn’t hit me first!” I said, now puffing my cheeks out.” Mother nodded, indicating for me to continue.

“There was this other kid that was getting bullied, so I told the bigger kid to cut it out, and he pushed me down on the sidewalk.” I explained, wiping my nose on my jacket sleeve.

“He made me scrape my knee, and it was all bloody and gross… so I pushed him back, and he started crying…” I said, and an amused look came over her face.

“Sweetie… it’s not really considered bullying if you’re standing up for yourself. Also, you were protecting someone from getting hurt, right?” She asked, and I nodded.

“Well then, that doesn’t make you a bully… it makes you a hero.” She said, smiling brightly. I blinked a few times before tilting my head to the side in thought.

“Like All-Might?” I asked, and she chuckled before nodding.

“Exactly!” She said, and I hummed in thought.

“But mommy, I don’t wanna be a hero.” I said, and her eyes widened in disbelief before she chuckled once more, and pulled me into a tight hug.

“You know what, sweetie? That’s just fine. You don’t have to be a hero. You can be anything you want to be.” She said, and I smiled.

“I don’t know what I wanna be yet.” I said, and she just smiled back.

“-And that’s okay. You have plenty of time to decide.” She said before standing and walking me out to the car to go home.

“Wait, didn’t you mention you scraped your knee?” Mother asked, and I nodded slightly.

“Yeah. It was all bloody and gross.” I repeated, and she pulled the seatbelt across me before examining my knee through my ripped up denim overalls.

“What? There’s no sign of a scrape.” She said, giving me a look.

“It’s okay mommy. I made it go away. It didn’t even hurt.” I said proudly. She blinked a few times before giving a tired smile.

“It sure has been a long day… let’s get home and grab a bite to eat.” She said before buckling herself into her seat, and starting the car.

*Middle school 7½ years later*

“(Y/N)-chan will you tutor me in science? I’m totally gonna flunk if I don’t pass next week’s midterm!” My friend Sawa groaned next to me, and I chuckled sheepishly.

“C’mon Sawa, I think you give me a little too much credit.” I said, and the two of us jumped as a loud ‘boom’ echoed through the hallways. At the end of the hall I saw two kids from my class. One that was slightly taller with spiky blond hair, and the other, smaller with curly black hair with a green undertone.

“K-Kaachan, I didn’t mean to-” He stuttered, but Bakugou had already pulled an arm back, ready to blast him in the face like he’d done many times before.

“C’mon (Y/N) let’s head towards the other end of the hall…” Sawa said, her hair standing on end, but my body had already moved on its own.

“(Y/N)!” Sawa shouted.

“DIE! DAMNED DEKU!!”” Bakugou shouted his trademark shout, but I had already moved myself in front of Izuku before he could strike. His eyes widened, but he couldn’t stop the momentum of his arm as his quirk was released full force into my face. When the smoke cleared, I hadn’t flinched, and his eyes grew wide as I glared at him unwaveringly.

“For someone who wants to be the number one hero, you don’t seem very heroic.” I said, my tone bland as the small scratches that littered my face and neck slowly disappeared.

“The hell is your deal?!” Bakugou demanded. I ignored him and turned to Midoriya.

“You okay, Izuku?” I asked, and he nodded.

“Y-yeah…” He said, still regarding Bakugou.

“HEY, I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!” He shouted at me, and I just glanced at him over my shoulder unimpressed.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“DON’T PRETEND LIKE YOU DIDN’T HEAR ME!” He shouted even louder, letting off another explosion, but I blocked it with my hand. The scratches then quickly healed themselves, and I turned to look Bakugou directly in the eye.

“Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but shouting, bullying people and blowing everything up won’t solve your problems.” I said, and he continued to glare daggers straight through me.

“Grow up.” I hissed, and he simply furrowed his brow before leaning back on his heels and shoving his hands into his pockets. He gave a quick grunt of disapproval before trudging off down the hall.

“W-wow… I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Kaachan like that…” Midoriya said. I helped him to pick his books up, and couldn’t help but notice the title of one of them.

“‘Hero Analysis for the future’?” I asked, and he frantically waved his hands.

“Oh, Y-yeah! I-It’s just something that I enjoy doing… watching heros and analyzing their strategies and whatnot…” He mumbled.

“It doesn’t sound like something you enjoy by the tone of your voice.” I said matter-of-factly. He looked surprised at my words before smiling weakly at the ground.

“I do! It’s just… y’know. What’s the point?” He asked, defeatedly, looking down sideways at his books.

“I’m quirkless… and no one has ever heard of a quirkless hero before… Kaachan… he’s so amazing. He’s so confident and strong.” He said, with an air of admiration in his tone now as he spoke about Bakugou.

“Sure… he’s also a bully.” I said, helping Midoriya to his feet.

“Oh, Kaachan has always been that way since we were kids.” Midoriya laughed it off, and I shot him a quick look.

“Right… listen Midoriya.” I said, collecting his attention quickly.

“Just because Bakugou was your friend when you were kids doesn’t give him the right to treat you this way… and it shouldn’t matter if you have a quirk or not.” I said, and his eyes widened.

“Wh-what are you saying…?” He asked, and I gave him a knowing smile.

“I’m saying that… just because you’re quirkless doesn’t mean you can’t be a-” Just then, the bell rang, and judging by the fact that Sawaya had already run off to the other end of the hall, we were already late for class.

“Sorry! I can’t be late for english again, I-” Just before I could take off down the hall, he grabbed my arm, his grip trembling slightly as he squeezed.

“Wait, please!” He seemed to beg, and I stopped immediately, looking back at him.

“Huh? What is it?” I asked, and gasped slightly when I saw that he was tearing up.

“P-please… finish what you were going to say…” He begged, and I felt my heart tug within my chest. I swallowed hard before turning towards him, and resting my hands on his shoulders.

“Just because you’re quirkless, doesn’t mean you can’t be a hero.” I said, and the tears began to stream down his cheeks.

“Th-thank you… I… I needed to hear th-that…” He sobbed, and I gave him a quick hug before running off in the opposite direction.

“I’ll see you later!” I waved behind me, feeling my heart swell with emotion, glad I could make someone’s day better.

*Lunchtime*

I waved goodbye to Sawa as she left for her study period, and walked with my bento over towards where I normally sat when I noticed a familiar head of hair sitting by itself in the corner of the lunch room.

“Hey Midoriya.” I greeted, and he jumped slightly when he saw that I was standing there. After a moment, he grinned sheepishly and began to speak.

“Oh, h-hey (F/N)-chan…” He greeted, and I immediately sat myself down as I tugged the other half of his face towards me so I could see better.

“Bakugou again?” I asked, giving him a look that said if he lied to me, he’d regret it. He looked panicked for a second before nodding.

“Y-yeah… I accidentally bumped him in the hallway.” He said, and I shook my head.

“Hold still.” I said before lightly touching his cheek, and transferring some of my energy to him. The cuts healed immediately, and his eyes began to sparkle as he began rummaging through his bag for something.

“Midoriya? What are you doing?” I questioned. He whipped out the journal I had seen before along with a pen.

“Please tell me about your quirk!” He exclaimed, and I blinked a few times before registering his request.

“Oh, I uh… it’s nothing really.” I waved him off, but he insisted.

“A healing ability is super rare! Hardly 1% of the entire population are born with a healing quirk!” He exclaimed, spewing all of these facts and trivias at me, and I quickly held up my hand to stop him.

“It’s not quite that simple.” I said, and he watched me expectantly, his pen ready for writing.

“My quirk developed when I was two years old… and as long as I can remember, I haven’t been able to feel any pain.” I said, and he looked at me absolutely dumbfounded.

“So… your quirk is a type of absorption?” He asked, and I shrugged.

“I hadn’t really thought about it…” I admitted.

“Hmm… it kinda makes sense… earlier, when Kaachan used his quirk on you, you didn’t even flinch. Also, right after you absorbed the energy from his attack, your body began to heal itself!” He was mumbling to himself, but I could hear him quite clearly.

He formed a fist with one hand before clapping it into his other with realization.

“Wait, so then… if you can absorb the energy from another’s quirk, and then use that energy for yourself to heal, wouldn't it also have offensive capabilities too?” He questioned, more himself than me. At this point, I listened intently whilst eating my bento. He looked so content I didn’t want to interrupt him.

“You have an amazing quirk, (Y/N)-chan! You could definitely get into UA if you wanted to!” He said, and I smiled kindly.

“Thanks Midoriya… but uh… I don’t want to be a hero really.” I said, and his face fell.

“Wh-what…?” He questioned, and I nodded.

“I mean… I want to help people, sure, but I don’t feel like being all flashy about it is really necessary. Y’know? You can help someone just as much by doing less.” I said, and he chuckled awkwardly.

“Sure, yeah… that’s a good way to think about it… it’s just…” He hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

“Sorry. I guess I’m just jealous.” He admitted, smiling slightly.

“Jealous? Of what?” I asked.

“You have this rare and amazing quirk, but don’t want to use it for being a hero… I’m completely quirkless, and being a hero is all I’ve ever wanted.” He said, a familiar sadness in his eyes.

“Oh Midoriya…” I sighed, placing my chopsticks down.

“You can be a hero too.” I said, and just like before his eyes widened. He smiled, and turned his eyes to look dowards at the table, trying to hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Right… you said that before too…” He mumbled. He then lifted his head up, his eyes bright and his cheeks still slightly rosy.

“Thanks, (Y/N)!” He said, his smile contagious.

“Anytime, Izuku.” I said, smiling back.

*Back home* I stepped through the door, and the house was unusually cold. Normally, I was met with the delicious smell of dinner on the table, or if mom had worked late, she would’ve picked something up on her way home.

“Mom?” I called out, the faint light of the fan above the stove was on and slightly flickering. I dropped my bag near the door, and walked towards the kitchen slowly, switching the lights on as I went.

“Mom? I’m home. I thought maybe we could check out that new steakhouse tonight. Sawa’s mom works there as a hostess, and I know you’re probably exhausted from work, so I-” I rounded the corner to the kitchen, and my blood ran cold.

“MOM!” She had collapsed onto the floor near the kitchen table, and was breathing, but just barely.

“Mom, what happened? Can you hear me?” I asked, and when she didn’t answer I jumped up and rushed over to the kitchen phone to call the paramedics. The automated message on the other line made my stomach sink.

‘Hello, unfortunately due to the high call volume we are receiving at the moment, we are unable to take your call right away. Please stay on the line and one of our dispatchers will be with you shortly.’ There was a beep followed by some music, and I quickly hung up the phone.

“DAMMIT!” I screamed before running back to mom who was still struggling to breath whilst beginning to turn very pale and blotchy.

“Mom, tell me where it hurts so I can heal you.” I said, and her eyes widened in terror as she shook her head.

“What? Mom, just point to where it hurts! Show me!” I begged, but she continued to shake her head, her face growing paler by the second.

“Mom, please, I…” I cursed to myself before finally deciding what needed to be done. If she wouldn’t let me heal her, I had to do the next best thing.

“Can you stand?” I asked, but she didn’t get a chance to answer me as I helped her to sit up by throwing one of her arms around my shoulder, and lifting her up with the strength of my legs.

“C’mon let’s go.” I said, hoping she’d have enough strength to walk, but every step she took forward only caused the two of us to stumble two steps backwards or sideways.

“Hold onto me.” I said. She weakly threw her arms over me, and I did a little hop to get her completely gathered in my arms. Luckily, I hadn’t shut the door behind me so I quickly maneuvered it open with my foot, and descended the stairs. I jerked open the back seat to her car and placed her in the backseat before sitting in the driver’s seat, and reaching above my head for the spare key that she kept in the paneling in front of the windshield.

“It’s okay… this is fine… I’ve never driven before in my life… but this is fine…” I took a deep breath before turning the key, putting the car in gear, and hitting the gas. The car lurched backwards, and I immediately hit the brake, causing the car to jerk forward.

“Shit…!” I cursed, gripping the steering wheel tightly enough to turn my knuckles white. I switched the car out of reverse and put it into drive before hitting the gas again, and taking off in the wrong direction on a one way street. Thankfully, it was late so there weren’t many drivers on the road, but those who were weren’t very happy with me at the moment.

I pulled through into the opening for the hospital, and accidentally took off one of my mother’s side mirrors. I slid out of the car and quickly ran in to grab a nurse.

“Please, please, something is wrong with my mother, please help!” I begged, grabbing her hand. She and a few other nurses hurried out to the car, and before long they were rushing her through the hospital on a gurney as fast as they could.

“I’m sorry ma’am but you can’t go back there.” One of the male nurses stopped me as they took her through to the OR, and I felt my stomach doing flips as he led me out into the waiting room to wait with all the other anxious people.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha #izuku #deku #reader insert

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paddingtonfan69 · 4 years ago

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this is personal, so feel free to ignore. but i think you’ve mentioned that your gf was your best friend. how long were y’all friends before getting together? was it an instantly mutual thing? (super single over here and love hearing people’s relationship stories)

Lol honestly I love talking about this shit to the point of being frankly annoying about it so here we go buddy! You asked for it! Getting real personal under the cut like the gay ass pisces I am 🥰

So Emily (she was like it’s fine if you use my name because tbh it’s very generic) and I actually went to college together but didn’t know each other, just had a lot of mutual friends. But then after graduation, most ppl moved to la (film school ugh) and our circles kind of became smaller and we started hanging out a lot. Especially me and Emily and this other girl became sort of a trio and we all just vibed and would like go on long drives and go dancing and such and just like be in our early 20s.

Eventually, emily and I just because really close. I remember I drove the 10 hrs home for Christmas and I jokingly asked her to make me a playlist for the drive because she is god tier at making playlists and then she made me a 10 hour playlist and also I called her on the drive and we talked for hours, even tho she was outside in the cold on the east coast, just little friend things!! She also worked near my apt and would always come over after and sometimes sleep over and she just became the person I talked to every day and told everything to, from like talking about music to her being the person I called when my grandma died.

Anyway this went on for months and I was like just another normal friend nothing to see here. At the same time I developed a crush on the third member of our trio and told Emily about it and she was kind of weird after but I was like this is becuase it will change friendship dynamics no other reason. Then one day we were going on one of our long drives just the two of us, bumping crj, as you do. We stopped at this park at like 2 am (god when I was 23, I could just not sleep??) and I was talking about this crush on our other friend and then she goes “the way you feel about her... that’s how I feel about you.”

And I was like fully BAMBOOZLED because I had no earthly clue (in retrospect duh but still), and I had just never been the kind of person ppl have crushes on and I didn’t know that she was even into women and also you know that tig notaro bit where she’s like “a woman could be going down on me and I’d be like - hey uh do you like me?” Anyway. I was shocked. And I was like you’re my best friend no matter what having you in my life is important etc etc and then we just kind of drove back. And she slept over because it was super late and I don’t think either of us wanted to be alone. And there was this moment where she fell asleep in the crook of my arm and I was like, oh this feels RIGHT in a way I never knew - this is not how one feels about their friends.

The next day she had to work and I like did some processing. I talked to my mom a lot and then talked to the other girl I had feelings for but like it was weird - as we were talking I was like oh shit what I feel for emily is so much stronger and is like actively growing inside me (does this makes sense??) and it ended up being a pretty joyful convo. So Emily and I didn’t have time to talk that day, but I wrote out this letter (gay) that was very rambling in retrospect NOT articulate and give it to her the next day, in the second she has available because she had to go to a wedding that afternoon.

So I give her the letter, she goes to the wedding, then that night a group of friends are going to this Killers dance night and halfway through, another group joins us, more friends who have just been at the this wedding. And guess who is this second group. And just, as soon as we were in the same space, there was this energy between us that hadn’t been there before and it was, like, electric. hands touching, needing to be physically next to each other at all times, just unable to stop grinning at each other, all that. Like we held hands in the uber home and she rested on my shoulder and it was just all so natural but also more thrilling than anything.

oh god this is so long but it’s almost over, THE NEXT DAY, I had to go to work (again, how did I live @ 23) and then after work I texted her and we drove again this time to different park and she was like I wrote a letter back and hers was like a little sad and like “it’s okay if you just want to be friends” and I was like “oh boy do I want to be more than friends” like at that point I was so aware FINALLY that I had been basically in love with her for our whole friendship. So we talked it out and you know kissed and then we were just together.

And it’s great because we were best friends for about a year before and she was already the person I wanted to spend all my time with. So now I get to do that every day and it’s almost been four years and we own a cat together and she’s my person!! And I was fucking dumb when I was 23 is really the moral of this story!!

Tldr if you were like I ain’t reading all that, I’m happy for you or sorry that happened: “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

#jesus this is so long #I’m just a sap with a tendency to overwrite I guess #ask #anon

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cockasinthebird · 5 years ago

Text

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee the more I have, for both are infinite.” -William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act 2 Scene 2

He had brought Laurie, Amy, Becky here. Never Nancy. Robin several times, at first with certain intentions, but it quickly became their place to watch the sweaty, athletic bodies of cheerleaders and football players, all the while sharing what shitty weed they could come across in such a puny town.

“Man, you can really see everything from here, huh?”

And now he has brought Billy here. It's only been three days since he caught him red-handed, slipping a loving note into his locker.

“I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.”

Billy had stood frozen in place, utterly paralyzed by the perfected fear of facing something you had not prepared for. Never intended to prepare for, as he explained to Steve that he was content with just wishing from afar, green with envy and yellow with melancholy.

But Steve had refused him that, to let this die before it has even had a chance to bloom under the sun or moon, as he just wants to feel the truth behind the letters, and encouraged him to continue.

Although restless through the night till Friday, he felt relief most unimaginable, as he opened his locker and found more of the same handwriting.

“For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation.”

And Robin had explained, “It simply means that life only exists around you. That with love everything is beautiful, and without it everything is dead.” She then looked to Steve with an inquisitive gaze. “Do you know who it is?”

He didn't speak, but nodded still.

In a few short hours, the sun will set to color the sky in beautiful hues of red, and Steve is happy, but sickeningly nervous.

On Friday before Billy got to drive home, Steve had found him and asked to meet under the bleachers on Saturday- today.

“Yeah,” he finally says and scratches the hairs on the back of his head, but carefully so as to not disturb the well kempt style. “I come here with... a friend, to smoke and watch the football team practice.”

Billy turns to look at him and grins, knowingly yet with reservation. “Oh? You wanna join the football team?” His gaze travels up and down with a teasing glint in his perfect blues. “I don't think you have the physique for it.”

And Steve laughs at that, arms crossed high up his chest in a hesitant stance. “No, I...” he braces himself before attempting to be bold, “I'm just enjoying the view.”

Yet Billy proves bolder, his grin twisting into something more suggestive, and takes a few all too confident steps closer. “See anything you like, then?”

Bright pink paints across Steve's pale skin, and his lips twitch as he parts them to whisper, faintly, “Yes.”

Gently so, Billy reaches out to touch Steve's arms and pulls them apart, to tangle their fingers together in a frighteningly perfect fit, calloused on soft. A first touch of skin that is not mean or cruel. And hopefully not the last.

Both in agreeance of such dear notions, they move closer till the toes of their shoes meet, a foot or so apart, never having been this close without bloody intentions. It is a bewildering thrill, that forces both hearts to beat with reverence.

Steve watches lips closely, as Billy speaks with a lull, “Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their books, but love from love, toward school with heavy looks.”

And they both laugh at the comparison that seems all too apt. For once a quote that even Steve, a fool, can understand without Robin to act as his royal translator.

“But how do you know it's love?” Steve then asks and he meets heaven in Billy's eyes.

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?” his voice that of an angel, at home behind those well-cushioned lips and beneath that canopy of a mustache.

“In English?” Steve chuckles out with the warmth of his aching heart, and squeezes Billy's hands tighter in a frail attempt to show his appreciation for such fanciful words.

“It means that love at first sight is true, that from the moment our eyes met, my heart was yours.”

Words that brings forth something so deep in Steve, a feeling that has suffered the painful silence of lying dormant, that now upon awakening, he cannot resist its vivid urging for him to lean in through the air heavy with emotion between them, lips parted.

But even then, with all too daring a gesture from the brunette, Billy doesn't do his part justice, till he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

And Steve's mouth spreads soft like butter on warm bread, as he gives a light and affable laugh, “God yes.”

The joyous sounds they both harmonize in becomes muffled when they embrace one another so fondly, that all the agony and misfortune they've caused each other in the past simply melts away by the heat of their yearning.

Billy raises up his hand to gingerly hold Steve's chin between his fingers, to keep him still so that Billy alone can angle his head to the side and find himself an explorer on Steve's skin, along the shoreline that is his jaw, across the moles on his skin like precious landmarks, to fall along the slope of his exposed neck from wherein hums echo, till his journey is obstructed by the border of his brightly colored tee.

“How do you know Shakespeare?” Steve asks, and pleads with loving hands for the return of those clear eyes.

The amiable smile that Billy carries so well goes crooked, and Steve is quick to dread the witty response that comes out as, “By reading.”

“Intelligent, handsome, and funny,” Steve laughs near mockingly, but with only playful intentions that becomes clear once his expression grows fond once more. And by the peeking of Billy's tongue, he understands that the tone of it all was apparent. “I mean why do you know so much Shakespeare?”

Billy lets out a complacent sigh, brushes Steve's hair behind his ears, as he thinks of a proper way to convey his internal monologue, ever the lustrous garden that it is. At the very least he can start with the undeniable truth,

“My mom was into plays, as in a lot. She often talked about going on Broadway some day.” His gaze travels aside to somewhere farther off than possible, as if in a dreaming state to lovingly relive the memory of her. “She would read me his stories and sonnets, and when she...” Then blue eyes falls to the green beneath, a shade darker with a dreary shadow over his mind. “When she left us, my dad and me, all I had of hers is this necklace and a dear love for Shakespeare.”

Steve's fingers a feather across the golden pendant nestled between clean pecs, the dolefulness palpable in his faint expression. When warm fingers wraps around his own, just to then be lifted up to meet Billy's lips, plush against each digit.

“I've been... very angry for a very long time, Steve,” the honesty to his tone jarring.

And Steve's name sounds more precious than buried gold when carried along by that dulcet voice. His heart throbs at it, ready and willing to stop dancing forever, if that would mean this to be his last memory of too short a life.

“I've been a real shithead to you.”

A confession that makes Steve burst out with unexpected laughter. “Oh have you now? Even with both of my hands and yours I can't count all the times you've hit me in the last year or so.”

“I know!” Billy doesn't mean to smile the way he does, but Steve's own stretch of perfect lips infects him. “But I hope you can forgive me for it, although I don't deserve it. I just want you to know how sorry I am that I took out all of my frustrations on you. It has taken me all my life to find out what's wrong with me, and then found that it comes down to two things only. My fucked up dad, and...”

He hesitates now more than ever, does not meet the eyes of kindness that bestows their grace upon him, and instead he plays around with Steve's fingers between his, watching as winter skin meets sun-kissed.

Steve remains a quiet statue of patience, knows exactly what endeavor Billy is about to step through. One that he has not been brave enough to face himself, but understands all too well the danger of it, viewed from a window of presumed privilege till he only short ago discovered a crack in the glass.

But perchance the road wont be as treacherous with another near his.

Silence drags on, however, and Steve observes how the bravery of spilling guts in such candor falls sourly into the pits of despair, and in a show of solace for such pain, Steve is now the one to bring their hands up to kiss them with such tenderness that would make anyone believe love to be the truest of human emotion.

“You don't have to finish that sentence,” Steve whispers benevolently, then guides warm palms to cup his grateful expression, hoping that this gesture will prove to Billy everything he knows.

“Yeah?” he requests for reassurance never the less, but who among any one person can resist such clear form of validation and not to be tempted by the belief of such words to be lies.

“Yeah,” Steve coos out and leans into that touch as was it the one of a lover's already.

And this time Billy does not find cause to ask for acquiescence, as he too leans towards the touch of infatuation, to taste the mirth of youthfulness on Steve's soft existence.

#My Writing #Harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Poet Billy? Poet Billy.#Shakespeare #fluffy fluff fluff #People seemingly wanted more so here #this is too much fun #to just throw out flowery words

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noona-clock · 5 years ago

Text

The Doctor - Part 2

Genre: Doctor!AU

Pairing: Donghyuk (iKON) x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,392

Even though Claire had been insistent that you needed to call Dr. Kim the day after your visit, her fever had all but vanished by the time she woke up that morning, so you had refused -- on principle!

You hadn’t admitted that you didn’t want to call him because you weren’t interested because... that wasn’t true.

Of course, you were interested! But, like, on the most surface level. You barely knew him; you knew he was cute and smart (he had to be in order to get through all that medical school, right?) and good with kids, so yes, all of that certainly piqued your interest.

But Claire had brought up dates, and she’d even mentioned a wedding at one point -- you obviously were not that level of interested.

(Yet?)

Her doctor’s note had excused her from school for the rest of the week, though, and since your job allowed you to work from home anyway, you were kind of stuck with her for a few days. And, let me tell you, she wasn’t keen on letting up on the subject of Dr. Kim. Like, at all.

By the time Saturday arrived, you were more than ready to drive her to your parents’ house for her weekly Grandma & Grandpa Time visit. They were apt to spoil her more than you liked, but today, you didn’t care if she had an ice cream sundae for every meal and watched movies literally all day long.

As long as you didn’t have to dodge her questions and comments about Dr. Kim any longer!

Since Claire was with your parents just about every Saturday, you took the opportunity to go grocery shopping. Before you drove her over to their house, you had her write down her requests on your list. You tried to fulfill as many as you could (within reason), and you’d found this process was so much easier than taking her with you. Kids in the grocery store tended to be bored half the time and whining for unhealthy snacks the other half.

Claire, of course, still requested a lot of unhealthy snacks... but you couldn’t deny that you liked them, too. In fact, you were currently standing in front of the pudding selection, deciding if you should get chocolate or butterscotch.

You tapped your finger against your chin, your eyes darting between the two flavors, and just as you were about to reach for the chocolate (because, who are we kidding? Chocolate always wins) you heard a voice nearby say your name.

The sudden greeting made you jump a little, and when you turned around, you saw a slightly amused and slightly embarrassed...

Dr. Kim.

Of course.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, no, it’s -- it’s fine,” you assured him with a faint smile. “I guess I was too immersed in pudding.”

And then you remembered he was a pediatrician. His job revolved around the health and well-being of children. And -- not that you’d really noticed -- Dr. Kim was incredibly fit himself. You doubted he spent this much time trying to decide what flavor of pudding to get.

“But Claire always eats her vegetables, I promise,” you added, only half-joking.

“I trust you,” he replied with a smirk. And then his expression became a bit more worried. “How is she feeling?”

“Oh, she’s much better,” you grinned. “Her fever was down the next day, and she wasn’t sneezing or coughing at all this morning.”

Dr. Kim leaned against his cart handle, his mouth curving into a smile that truly melted your heart. “Good, I’m glad to hear it.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Kim, really. I appreciate everything -- especially you not making me feel neurotic for taking her in at the drop of a hat,” you told him with a gentle though slightly abashed chuckle.

“Of course, I would never judge a parent for that. Or anything, really,” he told you, his forehead wrinkling slightly. “But please -- call me Donghyuk.”

“Sorry,” you laughed bashfully, shaking your head a little. “Force of habit.”

Donghyuk nodded, letting out a breathless chuckle. “There’s really no need to thank me, though. I love my job, it’s a pleasure to help when I can.”

Okay, well, speaking of his job... You were curious enough about it to come right out and ask, even though you really didn’t know him that well.

“May I ask... what made you move here?” you inquired, hoping you sounded more curious than accusatory. Because you were!

Donghyuk lifted one shoulder in a shrug and replied, “I just wanted a change, and there was an opening at this office.”

“You didn’t know someone who lived here?”

He shook his head, and the expression on his (handsome) face made it obvious he didn’t think it was a big deal.

It certainly was to you, though. As someone who craved familiarity, especially when it comes to your surroundings, you couldn’t imagine having the courage to just up and move to an entirely new town where you knew nobody.

“I was just curious,” you assured him. “This is the type of town people don’t really just decide to move to unless they know someone here already. I’m glad you came, obviously. I’m actually very impressed.”

It was clear that Donghyuk was amused by your rambling, so you shook your head quickly with a self-deprecating grin on your lips.

“Anyway,” you sighed. “Have you had a chance to get to know the town at all?”

To your slight surprise, a bit of a bashful smile appeared on Donghyuk’s mouth, and he let out a soft chuckle. “Uh, no, actually... I went to Jimmy’s that one night I almost ran into you, but... that’s kind of it. When I haven’t been working, I’ve just been at home reading... studying medical books.”

He probably expected you to think that was incredibly lame... but you didn’t. Not at all. A studious man who took his profession seriously -- and a very noble profession at that? What could be more attractive?

...So, you went for it.

“If... if you’d like, Claire and I could show you around,” you offered, trying to ignore the growing butterflies in your stomach. “I’ve lived here since I was little, and Claire has been with me for almost two years, so we know all the good places.”

Donghyuk stood up straight, his bashful smile growing into a very pleased, excited one -- and you really weren’t sure if you’d ever seen such a cute, adorable, attractive, magnetic smile in your life?

“Yeah?” he replied. “I would love that.”

You returned his smile with one of your own, and then Donghyuk held his arm out to allow you to head down the aisle first. You began to push your cart, and when he pushed his up right next to yours, you had to admit that you were not upset about having your solo grocery store trip intruded upon.

The two of you ended up going through the rest of the store together, talking and joking about this and that -- nothing too serious, but it was truly one of the most pleasant conversations you’d had in a long time.

Before you both got in line to check-out, you exchanged phone numbers so you could arrange your town tour sometime soon. You assured Donghyuk you would go by his schedule, and all he had to do was let you know when he was free.

You tried to put the idea of driving around town with Dr. Kim -- Donghyuk -- in the back of your mind because it really wasn’t anything to be anxious about. It’s not like it was a date or anything!

But you still knew that telling Claire was not going to be fun. Because she would think it was a date.

Luckily, after getting home from the store and putting all of your groceries away, you still had a few hours before you went to your parents’ house to pick her up. More than enough time to think about how you were going to phrase it as well as how you would react to her reaction.

So, you drew up a hot, aromatic, bubbly bath, lit a few candles, and turned on your favorite Jazz music. The perfect atmosphere for thinking. And since you weren’t picking up Claire until after dinner, you had plenty of time to do just that.

Usually, when you picked up Claire after her weekly Grandma & Grandpa Time visit, she had something she’d crafted to show you. Sometimes it was a piece of art she did with Grandma, sometimes it was something she’d built with Grandpa; this week, it was a piece of art.

“Look at my necklace!” Claire cried as soon as you walked in the front door of your parents’ house. She barreled down the hall towards you, holding a string filled with beads and charms.

She had already made a bracelet and earrings, so now her jewelry set was complete -- a very important thing for a seven-year-old.

“Oh, look at that!” you grinned as she reached you. You gingerly scooped the necklace into your palm, admiring the pattern she’d made. “It’s beautiful.”

“Can I wear it to school on Monday?!”

“You just have to be very --”

“I will, I’ll be careful, I promise!”

Your grin widened, and then you leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Yes, of course, you can.”

Claire squealed with delight before you sent her back down the hall to go say good-bye to her grandparents.

And... to be honest, you wouldn’t mind if the good-bye took a little while.

Because, even though you were pretty sure you’d figured out a good way to tell her, you still weren’t looking forward to it.

But, sadly, she was able to manage it quickly enough, and in less than ten minutes, the two of you were in your car on the way home.

“What else did you do with Grandma and Grandpa?” you asked, glancing in your rearview mirror to see she was still admiring her necklace.

“We went out for pizza, and then Grandpa made his meatloaf for dinner,” Claire told you. “Y’know, a lot of the kids in my class talk about meatloaf like it’s really bad, but they’ve never had Grandpa’s meatloaf. It’s the most delicious meatloaf in the world.”

“What, better than mine?” you inquired with a chuckle.

“Sorry, but yes.”

You weren’t sure how that was possible because you used your Dad’s recipe, but maybe it was the fact you weren’t your Dad which made the taste not quite as favorable to your daughter.

The night after you’d introduced Claire to your parents, just a couple of months after you had begun fostering her, you’d found her crying in her bed. After a bit of coaxing, she had admitted that she had always wanted a Grandpa -- not a Dad, not a Grandma, but a Grandpa. She had told you about a movie she’d used to watch at one of her old foster placements -- you’d heard from her social worker that the couple had ended up being one who obviously only did foster care for the extra money. Claire had spent a lot of time by herself, and she had found an old VHS called Grandpa’s Magical Toys. She had watched it so many times, and it had become her dream to have a Grandpa. Not even one with magical toys or one who would sing funny songs to her -- just a Grandpa, plain and simple.

You had already known by then you wanted to adopt her, but seeing her crying about having a Grandpa had been the final brick of your decision house.

Needless to say, after you’d told your Dad, he had treated Claire extra specially, and now the two were most definitely the cutest, sweetest pair you’d ever known. She loved and admired him so much that even his meatloaf tasted better than yours.

Claire continued to admire her necklace as you made your way back to your own house, and it wasn’t until you were pulling into the your driveway that she asked about your trip to the grocery store.

“Did you buy anything from my list?” she asked, very obviously trying to hold back how desperately she wanted to hear your answer.

“I did,” you nodded. “I got you strawberry Pop-Tarts, chocolate pudding, and... tater tots.”

Claire cheered with delight, and a wide grin split your lips. Even though she knew you would always get tater tots whenever she requested them (because who doesn’t love tater tots?!), she was still incredibly thrilled when you did.

“Oh, by the way,” you began as you rolled the car to a stop and put it in park. “I saw Dr. Kim at the store. He asked to make sure you were feeling better.”

“Is that all he asked?”

“Claire, please!” you laughed. “Although... I did tell him that we would show him around since he’s new here and doesn’t really know anybody yet.”

You prepared for Claire to squeal or something, so she surprised you by letting out a soft, dreamy sigh and saying, “I guess it was destiny that I got sick.”

Your brow furrowed immediately, and you turned around in your seat to look back at her. “...What are you talking about? You’re seven, what do you know about destiny?”

“If I hadn’t gotten sick, you wouldn’t have taken me to the doctor, and you wouldn’t have met Dr. Kim! And you wouldn’t be going on a date with him!”

“Okay, wait just a minute!” you sputtered. “It’s not a date! I said we are showing him around town -- as in me and you. Have you ever heard of someone’s child going on a date with them?”

Claire simply shrugged. “It could happen.”

“Besides, he’s a very busy man. I highly doubt he has time to... go on dates.”

“If you say so...”

“Enough -- go on inside and get ready for bed, Missy,” you ordered, trying not to both laugh and blush.

Claire let out a very weary sigh and mumbled, “Okay, okay, I’m going.”

But you knew you hadn’t heard the last of it. Not even close.

Part 3

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writing-and-bad-decisions · 4 years ago

Text

A Serendipitous Dinner Party

A Haikyuu Fan fiction

Pairing: Yaku/Lev

Words: 3771

Summary:

Yaku was on his third lap of the store and was yet to find his packaged dinner. To say he was impatient would be an understatement. He scanned the shelves, squinting at the packages in his exhaustion as he rounded the corner into the next aisle and walked into someone's chest. He stumbled back with a grunt.

"I'm so sorry–" He paused as he looked up. "Lev?"

"Yaku-san?" The two of them stared at each other for a moment, startled to see each other outside of practice. A voiced piped up beside Lev.

"Lyovochka who's this?"

---

Alternatively,

All Yaku wanted was to purchase his ramen, but Alisa Haiba seemed to have other plans. Lev was mortified. But as the the night went on, Yaku began to realise that the tall first year may not have been as intolerable as he first thought.

Note:

Surprisingly, this is actually the first serious attempt I’ve ever made at writing fan fiction. I don’t know if I’ll write anything else similar to this, (potentially, I found this pretty easy and enjoyable to write) but we’ll see. Any constructive criticism you may have is eagerly appreciated! I know this isn’t perfect but I quite like how it turned out.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

---

It was typical for Yaku's parents to go out abruptly and leave him without any plans for dinner. So there he was, 7pm on a Friday night buying packaged Ramen. He had already decided what he was going to do when he got home. Heat up his ramen, get in his pyjamas, and eat it on his bed before passing out. A perfect, lazy end to a very stressful and tiring week. At least it would be, if Yaku could find where his damn ramen was.

He was on his third lap of the store and was yet to find his packaged dinner. To say he was impatient would be an understatement. He scanned the shelves, squinting at the packages in his exhaustion as he rounded the corner into the next aisle and walked into someone's chest. He stumbled back with a grunt.

"I'm so sorry–" He paused as he looked up. "Lev?"

"Yaku-san?" The two of them stared at each other for a moment, startled to see each other outside of practice. A voiced piped up beside Lev.

"Lyovochka who's this?" The woman was tall, standing at shoulder height to Lev, with long silver-blonde hair and piercing green eyes. Very obviously his relative, she looked to be about a year or two older than Yaku.

"Oh, um... This is Yaku-san." Lev replied, glancing back and fourth between the two nervously. Unlike Yaku, he had changed out of his practice clothes, sporting jeans and a casual shirt.

"Is he one of your friends from school?" She asked, eyeing the red Nekoma jacket tied around his waist. She had a bit of an accent, he noticed.

"He's one of my teammates, from volleyball." The woman turned to him, flashing perfect white teeth.

"It's lovely to meet you Yaku-san. I'm Alisa Haiba, Lyovochka's older sister." She bowed politely, clasping her hands by her designer skirt. She had an expensive fashion taste, to say the least.

"Nice to meet you too," He replied, feeling a little awkward. The last thing he wanted right now was to be sucked into a conversation with Lev and his sister, but it didn't seem that he would be able to get away anytime soon. Looking him up and down, Alisa gave Yaku a puzzled look.

"You're a little short for the volleyball team though, aren't you? No matter! You still have some growing to do. Tell me, are you in any of Lev's classes?" Yaku tensed up, and it took all of his willpower not to show the annoyance on his face as he realised she had just mistaken him for a first year. He dragged his eyes to Lev, ready for his laugher, but was surprised to find him panicked.

"Alisa no Yaku-san is a third year! And he's a libero so he's meant to be short! He's one of the best players on the team." She laughed at her mistake.

"I apologise Yaku-san, I'm not very knowledgeable about volleyball." She smiled at him, and he concluded that Alisa had the same air-headed nature as her brother, though less annoying.

"It's fine." He replied, "It happens all the time."

"Say, what are you doing at the grocery store so late?" She asked. This was the perfect opportunity to get away from the two of them.

"My parents are out tonight, so I was just buying some things for dinner. Speaking of–" But she cut him off.

"Why don't you come over to ours for dinner!" Lev's eyes widened. "Lev and I are also eating alone tonight and we would love the company." Lev tried to stammer something out, but he couldn't find the words.

"No! Uh, thank you, but that's fine, I wouldn't want to intrude." Yaku couldn't imagine anything more awkward than spending dinner with the two of them.

"Nonsense!" She continued "We're going to be making this large stew and there's no way for us to finish it on our own. It would be a delight to have you over." Alisa smiled at him expectantly, her perfect teeth gleaming, and Yaku realised there was no way for him to refuse politely. Lev looked like he wanted to crawl up into a hole and die. His expression would have amused him if it wasn't such an uncomfortable situation. He smiled shakily.

"Sure thing, thank you." Alisa clapped her hands together.

"Excellent! Let us gather the rest of the ingredients." Lev was momentarily stunned, likely not expecting Yaku to accept the offer.

She grabbed Lev by the arm and tugged him forward, snapping him out of his daze, before walking on ahead. The two were left to follow behind awkwardly.

Lev leaned down, speaking to him for the first time since their initial collision.

"I am so sorry." He whispered. Yaku sighed and squared his features, trying not to look annoyed.

"It's fine, not like I had anything else on tonight." He was quiet for a moment, before adding "This better be a good stew."

---

Yaku followed the two Haibas as they made their way around the store, gathering various ingredients before making their way towards the checkout.

"Could you boys carrying the bags for me? I need to make a phone call." Alisa said, before leading the way out of the store. Yaku gazed wistfully at the display of ramen they passed on the way out, cursing himself for missing it, before reluctantly following. Alisa was talking loudly in Russian to someone on the phone, and much to his annoyance, Yaku was struggling to keep up with the two's long strides. Damn his short legs.

"Lev." He called, and the aforementioned Russian turned his head questionably. Seeing him lagging behind, Lev slowed his pace sheepishly.

"Our house is just around the corner." He said. "I'm sorry if we're going out of your way." Yaku shrugged. It was a mild night, warm with a slight breeze that brushed through Lev's silver locks.

"It's fine. It's not that far from my house." They were silent for a moment. Up ahead, Alisa was still droning on.

"I thought you said you couldn't speak Russian." Yaku commented. Lev quirked his head in confusion.

"Huh? I can't." He gestured to Lev's sister. "Oh, I have no idea what she's saying. Alisa is working abroad in Russia, and she was always interested in learning the language, while I wasn't really bothered."

"You didn't learn from your parents?"

"Ah well, my father is Russian, and he's not around anymore, so..." Lev trailed off.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Yaku said, fiddling with the shopping bags uncomfortably.

"No! It's fine! It's not a sensitive subject or anything." The two fell into an awkward silence.

---

Shortly, they arrived at Lev and Alisa's house.

The Haiba house was smaller than Yaku expected, though cozy. The downstairs area was an open-plan, encompassing the kitchen, dining room and living room in the large space. Adorning the walls were various framed photographs of the two siblings and their mother, as well as a few paintings. Yaku couldn't help pausing at one of the frames, a photograph of Lev when he was younger, probably in elementary school. Small, but noticeably lanky for someone his age, he was grinning widely with the child-like innocence he still carried with him. He was standing next to his sister and a woman Yaku assumed to be their mother. She was noticeably Japanese, with black hair and tanner skin. You couldn't tell they were related, aside from the toothy smile they all shared. Lev and his sister had obviously taken more after their European father. The photo made something inside Yaku soften, they seemed so happy.

Shoving that thought into the back of his mind, he followed the two over to the kitchen island and rested the bags on the countertop, beginning to unpack the groceries. Looking at all the ingredients laid out on the counter, Yaku thought they weren't kidding about it being a large stew.

"Oh dear!" Alisa cried suddenly. He and Lev shared a concerned look.

"Is everything alright?" Yaku asked. She shook her head, long hair flowing with the motion.

"We forgot the fondant for the cake tomorrow." She said to Lev.

"Oh dammit. What should we do?" Alisa grabbed her purse from the counter.

"I'll run back to the store before it closes, Lyovochka, you start on dinner for when I get back." She was already out the door before he could reply.

The two boys stared at each other awkwardly again, before Yaku broke the silence.

"Well, I'll help you cook then." And Lev simply nodded. "So what are we making?"

"Solyanka." He was met with a blank stare. Lev elaborated, "It's like, a sweet and sour beef stew."

"Alright, so where do we start?"

Lev instructed him to set up a pot on the stove and fry the bacon and beef, whilst he begun chopping up the vegetables. Leaning against the countertop, Yaku watched as Lev expertly sliced through the carrots, before moving onto the onions, cutting them quickly and precisely. He was surprised at how apt he was at it, considering his clumsy nature.

"Do you do a lot of the cooking in your household?" Yaku found himself asking. He had to force himself to stop watching Lev's long fingers work and concentrate on the pot. Lev hummed.

"Yeah. My parents work late so I generally make dinner for us. My sister is home for the next few weeks though, so I'll have her home helping me out."

"That's really cool. The–uh, cooking part." he paused for a moment "Honestly, I was planning on just making packaged ramen tonight."

"Ramen! That's not very nutritious Yaku-san." He teased, smiling to himself but not taking his eyes off the cutting board. "Good thing you're eating here tonight, this stew's full of healthy-goodness. It'll help you grow big and tall!"

"What exactly are you implying, Lev?" Yaku narrowed his eyes. Lev glanced up at him and squeaked in fear, which caused Yaku to laugh.

"I'm kidding." The tall boy sighs in relief. Slicing up the last clove of garlic, he was finished with the vegetables.

"What's next?"

"How's the meat coming along?" Lev came over to inspect the pan. "Looking good! We need to add the vegetables next. Would you mind grabbing the paprika and the pepper? They're in the cupboard over there."

"Sure." Yaku opened the pantry and scanned the shelves. "Where is it?"

"Should be in there." Lev says absentmindedly, focusing on pouring in and stirring the vegetables. Yaku looked over the assortment of spices, herbs and condiments again, before spotting the paprika and pepper.

On the top shelf.

He let out a sigh, remembering who's house he was currently in, before shifting to balance on his toes. His fingers barely grazed the edge of the shelf. He grunted, stretching his arm as far as he could, to no avail. Lev must have noticed him.

"Oh, sorry." He heard Lev walk over and before he could even process it, the tall first year was reaching over him. His chest brushed against his back and Yaku's breath hitched in his throat. He could feel Lev's breath on the top of his head, the heat radiating off of him, before the contact was gone as soon as it came, and Lev was back standing over the stove. Yaku stood stunned for a moment, his heartbeat heavy in his ears. What the hell was that?

Yaku shook himself out of it, closing the pantry door and leaning against the cupboards. He watched Lev stir the pot, humming with the little half smile he had permanently plastered to his face. He looked more natural like this, more comfortable and relaxed compared to how he was on the court. He was quieter as well, Yaku reflected, which was nice. Maybe the overzealous underclassmen wasn't as irritating as he previously thought.

Lev looked over to him and smiled eagerly, motioning him over.

"It's starting to smell really good!" Yaku leaned over the pot, taking a tentative sniff. He sighed in satisfaction, the stew giving off a heavy and delicious aroma.

"It smells amazing." He replied, and Lev seemed to smile even wider at that.

"Now we just need to stir it a bit more and leave it to simmer, then it'll be ready." He announced cheerfully.

From across the room, the door clicked open and Alisa walked through.

"Smells good!" She called out.

"Alisa! You were gone a while." She dropped her purse on the island counter, along with a packet of fondant.

"They were out so I had to run to a different store. Crisis averted." She smiled at Yaku. "Yaku-san, I hope Lyovochka has been a good host and hasn't annoyed you too much."

"Alisa!" He whined in response. Yaku laughed.

"He's been... tolerable." The comment caused her to laugh, and Lev just pouted in response.

"Well, anyway, dinner seems to be coming along nicely. I have a few things I need to get done, I'll leave you boys to it." She turned and disappeared up the stairs.

Yaku turned back to Lev to see him already out of his sour mood, shuffling around and retrieving the cutlery and a tablecloth.

"I'll set the table, can you mind the pot?" Yaku humed in response, though as Lev walked into the dining room, he found himself watching him again. He lifted the tablecloth onto the table and smoothed it out gently with his hands, the motion oddly tender. The warm feeling from earlier sprung up in Yaku's chest. There was something strangely endearing about watching Lev being so domestic.

He watched Lev go back and fourth between the kitchen and the table a few times, attentive of the way he moved and how he organised the cutlery and plates delicately.

"I almost forgot about the bread." He said, entering the kitchen again. He begun slicing up a large loaf of sourdough.

"You and your sister seem to get along well." Yaku said softly. He wasn't sure where the comment came from, maybe he was just searching for something to say.

"Yeah, Alisa and I have always been close, though she likes treating me like I'm still her little baby brother." He chuckled to himself. Yaku nudged him, the gesture abnormally gentle.

"What are you talking about? You are a little baby."

"Am not."

"Are too, little first year."

"Little third year." He retorted, and Yaku leaned over and kicked him in the shin. He groaned, before straightening up. "Anyway, do you have any siblings, Yaku-san?"

"No, I'm an only child." He found himself looking at the family portraits again, the happy faces smiling back. "... it's lonely, sometimes." Yaku's eyes widened a fraction, he didn't know what compelled him to say that.

"A-anyway, how long until the stew is ready?" Lev leaned to check the oven clock.

"It's ready now! Could you go get Alisa while I serve up?" Yaku voiced his agreement and made his way over to the stairs. He paused, debating whether to find her or simply call out from the stairwell. He chose the latter option.

"Alisa!" He called. After a few moments, a door opened upstairs.

"Dinner?"

"Yeah."

"On my way!"

Yaku made his made to the dining table, where Lev was carefully placing the pot.

"Where do you want me to sit?" Yaku asked. Lev plucked the oven mitts off his hands.

"Just there's fine."

"That smells delicious, I can't wait!" Alisa smiled, sitting down across from him and next to Lev. "You've outdone yourself this time Lyovochka!" She ruffled his hair and he grinned. Yaku found himself smiling at the interaction.

"Yaku-san helped too!" Lev said cheerfully.

"I didn't do much..." He was feeling timid all of a sudden.

"Thank you for your help Yaku-san. Well, let's begin shall we?" The three clasped their hands together, expressing gratitude for the meal, before they began to serve the stew. The two Haiba siblings insisted that Yaku served himself first, much to his disagreement. The stew was thick and steaming as Yaku rose his spoon to his mouth. He was vaguely aware of the two watching him, waiting for his reaction.

As he slipped the spoonful in his mouth, the taste overwhelmed his senses. The stew was creamy and warm, with a sweet flavour to the beef and a subtle, sour aftertaste. He couldn't stop the soft moan that swelled in his throat, his eyes fluttering closed in a moment of ecstasy.

"I think... that's the best thing I've eaten all year." He exhaled.

"I-I'm glad you liked it." Lev rubbed the back of his neck, a tint of colour appearing on his face. Yaku had never seen him bashful before.

"Solyanaka is Lyovochka's specialty!" Alisa chirped. "It's his favourite as well." Lev grinned quietly to himself. Alisa grabbed the plate of sourdough and held it out to Yaku.

"Try it with some bread!" Yaku did, and the sourdough added a thick foundation to the flavour of the stew. The three enjoyed their meal quietly for a few minutes, before Yaku spoke up.

"So, Alisa-san, Lev mentioned that you work abroad?" She nodded, swallowing.

"In Russia, though I'm home for a few weeks taking time off."

"What's your occupation?" He asked.

"She's a model!" Lev butted in proudly, and she grinned bashfully. Yaku's eyes widened.

"Really?" Looking her over again, it wasn't really that surprising. She had a sharp but soft face, and an overall elegant demeanour. "That explains why you're so pretty." The words slipped out on their own, and he tensed up.

"U-um, that's not, I mean–" He stammered, but Alisa laughed.

"It's okay, I know what you're trying to say." He fiddled with his spoon nervously, trying to ignore the heat in his face. He didn't mean for that to come out so flirtatiously. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but Yaku didn't find himself attracted to her. Looking up from his plate he found Lev pouting at his sister, almost as if he was jealous of the complement.

"So you and Lyovochka are on the same volleyball team Yaku-san?" Alisa inquired, changing the subject. "I hope he doesn't cause you and the rest of the team too much trouble."

"Oh you have no idea." Lev gasped at the comment. Yaku grinned devilishly at him, before crossing his arms in an authoritative manner. "Lev is competent in his spiking and blocking, but he's terrible at receiving. I always have to hold him back after club activities for extra practice." Alisa's face lit up with recognition.

"Oh, so you're the third year Lyovochka is always gushing about!" Lev squeaked.

"Alisa!"

"Whenever I call he's always talking about his 'cute little upperclassmen' who helps him practice."

"Alisa stop talking!" She giggled.

"I'm glad I finally get to meet the person Lyovochka admires so much." Lev shoved his face in his hands, attempting to cover his blushing face. Yaku burst out laughing.

"Why would you say that." Lev whined into his palms. His sister rubbed his back unapologetically. Yaku's stomach hurt from laughter, and he wiped at the corner of his eyes.

"That's sweet."

Yaku kicked him gently under the table to get his attention. Lev peaked out from behind his fingers, and Yaku gave him a grin that said I'm not going to let you forget this. The message was received and Lev groaned and covered his face once more.

---

The rest of the dinner went along pleasantly, with Yaku and Alisa exchanging embarrassing stories of Lev. Despite his mortification, he seemed to be enjoying himself as well. Yaku ate until he couldn't stomach another bite, and the two siblings insisted on him taking home the leftovers. Their generosity was really something else. After a few minutes of sitting after the meal, Alisa stood.

"I'll start cleaning up."

"I'll help you." Yaku offered, but she motioned for him to stay seated.

"Nonsense, you boys cooked, I'll tidy everything up." She carried the plates into the kitchen, humming to herself. Yaku went to check the time, his eyes widening.

"Oh! It's almost nine." He couldn't believe he had been over so long, he had completely lost track. He stood from his seat. "I should probably get going. Thank you for having me over." He bowed to the two of them. Alisa waved him off from the kitchen.

"You're welcome to visit anytime Yaku-san, it was a pleasure having you." She smiled. Lev stood as well.

"I'll walk you out!" Bidding his sister goodbye once more, Yaku and Lev made their way to the door, the container of leftover stew warm in his hands. Lev walked him out to the street.

"I'm sorry again, about the impromptu dinner, I know it was a little awkward." Lev said. "My sister is really social and can be a bit much sometimes." Yaku shook his head

"Don't worry about it. It... actually turned out to be really fun, and the stew was really delicious. I'm glad I came, so thank you." Lev's face lit up.

"And um..." He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, nervous all of a sudden. "About what my sister said, you're free to come over for dinner again sometime." He added quickly "If you want, that is! You don't have to."

"Yeah." Yaku said. "Thank you, I'd like that." His reply calmed Lev down, and he grinned happily. "And... maybe I could have the two of you over for dinner sometime, to repay the gesture."

"I'd like that a lot!" He said happily. They fell silent as they looked at each other, almost as if they were expecting something to happen. The yellow hue of the streetlight reflected in Lev's green eyes, making them almost cat like as he gazed down at him. There was an unusual tenderness in his expression.

"Anyway..." Lev said hesitantly, before he leaned down and wrapped Yaku in a hug. Slowly, he returned it, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his forehead against Lev's shoulder. The soft smell of herbs and spices clung to Lev's body, as well as the distant scent of cologne. Yaku found himself relaxing into the embrace against his own accord. They stood like that for a few long moments, before breaking apart.

"I'll see you at practice on Monday," Lev said, a sweet smile on his face. It made Yaku's stomach flip.

"Yeah, see you."

Yaku turned and began walking home, aware of Lev watching him go. He was glad it was too dark for Lev to see his face, he thought, as he pressed his palm into his warm cheek.

#Haikyuu #Haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #yakulev #yaku/lev #writing #my writing #writeblr #write #writers on tumblr #oneshot

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coeurdastronaute · 5 years ago

Text

Atlantis 5

Previously on Atlantis

Three days. That was all she would get of Atlantis. It was more than most other people would ever imagine, more than anyone else had ever had and more than likely would ever be granted. The marvels of the deep sea, of the timeless, effervescent city, with its magic and ancient sciences was to remain a mystery for the entire world for as long as anyone could dare to count.

But Clarke knew, now.

She saw the hanging gardens and tasted the food, she felt the healing powers of the knotted hands of time itself rubbing ointments with imprecise smells etching into her skin. She’d seen the daughter of the king, she’d dined with the queen, she’d heard the language and she stood at a window the size of a blimp, and looked out at the expanse of the sea-floor with her own eyes, and that was a lot of knowledge, and a lot of magic, if she was bold enough to say such a thing despite the science of her mind telling her such notions were ridiculous.

She hadn’t thought that three days could change the entire world, but it did. Her mentors were dead, her life was in flux, and she was now esteemed with the knowledge of Atlantis, in all of its perfection and wonder.

Three days ago, Clarke was studying a drug-resistant strain of a very bad disease on a medical research ship in the middle of the ocean. Three days ago, she woke up in Atlantis, but more importantly, three days ago, she woke up to Lexa. That might be the most defining part of the entire time she spent underwater-- Lexa. All six feet of her. All broad shoulders and long legs and crisp jawline and freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks, all green eyes and plump lips and strong hands and that cut in her arm at her bicep and the--

From her spot on the bed, Clarke shook her head and rubbed her eyes, willing those images to disappear as she rubbed her eyes. None of it mattered. She would be back to real life soon enough, though as she thought about everything, she realized how far away it seemed.

Clarke sat on her bed and braced herself. What should have taken a few weeks to heal was completely back to normal, her body moving normally again. She placed her palm over her previously bruised ribs and held it, as if she could feel the process. But all that was there was a breath and then another.

The smell still lingered there, the mint and the camomile and something indescribably wonderful. It always close to her, the way the air was different. Clarke did her best to not think about Lexa, and the sandalwood musk of her when she moved.

The clothes she came with were torn and bloody, but Clarke slipped on the ones Lexa left for her to wear, putting aside the soft linen of the Atlantean fabric.

“Good morning, Clarke.”

She balked slightly at the door to discover a princess waiting, hand raised as if prepared to knock. Unruffled, Lexa slowly lowered her fist and tucked it behind her back with her other hand, proper and stoic as all.

“Come to collect me and return me to the real world?”

Lexa furrowed and cocked her head slightly as she thought over the words.

“This is still the real world.”

“This is a dream,” Clarke corrected with a sigh. “A dream I have to wake up from eventually.”

“Is it really so bad to return to your home?”

It took genuine thought to figure out how bad it was going to be to return. Clarke thought of her family and how worried they’d be and the secret she’d have to keep. And she thought about returning to school and work without the people she’d come to love and trust and respect-- her mentor gone, her work gone, her life irrevocably altered and weirdly enough, this palace with this Atlantean, it felt the most normal.

“No,” she smiled weakly. “It’ll be nice.”

Lexa didn’t believe the answer, but she closed her mouth after thinking it better not to press when she saw the sadness in Clarke’s shoulders and the weight on her brow. Instead she offered a knowing smile, quick and fleeting in return, dreading this day as much for different reasons.

Instead, Lexa held out her elbow, as she was known to do to help Clarke move when she was injured and they walked through the palace and gardens over the past week, and even though the patient was healed, she took it graciously, her smile more genuine.

“I have news after speaking with my mother and father.”

“You’ve decided to keep me prisoner?”

“That would be an interesting turn of events,” she chuckled. “One that I’m sure a few people here would be okay with.”

“I bet.”

“I’ve been allowed to visit land.”

“Really?” Clarke perked, suddenly aware that she was actually interested in things like Lexa’s plans and whereabouts and accessibility. “I mean. That’s great. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“It is. I know I’ll be called to be someone who helps, and I know I have these gifts. I want to see who I am outside of the comforts of my home.”

“You’re going to be great.”

“Oh? How are you so sure?” Lexa teased, the tips of her ears burning red with the declaration.

Before Clarke could answer, a group of guards ran toward her, hurrying and urgent. Clarke gripped her bicep tightly and waited.

“There has been an attack on the Eastern front. The machines have been destroyed.”

“Did they cross the armistice line?”

“No. It looks like they were doing more than just research though.”

“Drilling?”

The guard nodded and Lexa grit her teeth, contemplating many thoughts.

Thought she wasn’t sure what they were saying, Clarke could recognize the urgency, and she felt Lexa’s energy, picking up on some of her tells, though she wasn’t sure she ever saw that kind of anger on her face as the guard kept speaking. Jaw clenched and eyes on fire, her body tensed.

Her arm dropped and Lexa took the tablet looking item and watched a video or pictures or surveillance of some kind before pushing it back at the guard, disgust apparent beneath the wrath.

But she remembered herself after a moment and looked to Clarke, softening only slightly in the eyes.

“You have to go,” Clarke realized.

“They are going to take you to my mother and the rest of the party going to the Spindrift. I was supposed--” she cleared her throat and waited until her guards took the hint to step back and turn around. “I was going to join, but it seems my father and I have something to take care of.”

“I understand.”

“I would-- I thought i’d have more--” Lexa anxiously scratched the back of her neck and swallowed, her cheeks burning as well, her body losing that fierceness suddenly as she stammered. “I didn’t think we’d have to say goodbye like this.”

“Hoping for something a little more romantic?”

“Hoping to not have to do it at all, honestly.”

Both shared a smile at the thought, comforted by it for just an instant.

“You have work to do, Princess.”

“I do.”

“Find me. I think I promised to show you around.”

“I will. You’ll be close?”

“I will.”

Lexa sighed and smiled, her body aching to reach out and do something, but failing entirely with it and the urge, so she wrung her hands behind her back and nodded curtly.

“This might take me a while.”

“I’m a patient person,” Clarke promised.

With another nod, Lexa looked at Clarke, meeting her eyes and holding it for as long as she could stand before turning away.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Passed from person to person, unaware of what was happening, Clarke found herself sitting on a vessel of some sort, waiting and left to the quiet. For what felt like the first time since Lexa disappeared, she took a breath. There was no one around her, and there was no where to go but back, something she’d actively avoided thinking about for days.

But before she could give it much thought, the vessel filled with bodies, and the Queen took her seat after the crew began the process of taking off. About to travel through miles of deep sea that no human had ever seen before, Clarke gulped, oddly claustrophobic.

“It’ll be a quick trip, Clarke,” the Queen assured her as she took her seat. “Maybe an hour and you’ll be back home.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sure your mother and father will be happy to see you.”

“I can’t imagine what they’ve been going through.”

The guilt hit her then and she pushed aside her selfish thoughts about the ease of staying and elected to take up the burden of returning.

“I have an idea.”

“It must be hard to have your husband and daughter out there sometimes.”

“You never get used to that,” she confessed with a sad smile. “But we are women and we have our role to play. Unlike some, we don’t ignore our duty to have feelings.”

“It’d be nice though, wouldn’t it?”

She thought about it for a moment and nodded before patting Clarke’s knee and taking a deep breath.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Spindrift was a magnificent achievement, perched on the edge of the sea, removed from closest city by miles, a beautiful building that seemed to raise out of the ocean itself. It was large, giant windows, the skeleton bending and wavy, it caught the light of the sun and shone magnificently, and with what Clarke knew of Atlantis, she understood how much of it was similar to their home. The embassy was the closest thing to a connection they would have, and the long bridge of a road that connected it tenuously seemed apt.

Inside was even more beautiful if that was possible. The care and time spent creating it was obvious to everyone who stepped inside and gawked at it. This was the political event of the decade, hell, even the century.

“This is Agent Barnes,” the Queen brought Clarke back from her reverie. “She is a friend of my husbands, and one of only a few that I trust to handle such a sensitive case as yours.”

The agent was short, but severe, decked out in a government issue suit and the only other non-Atlantean. She didn’t say anything, but rather sized up the shipwrecked girl, appraising her quickly enough.

“Thank you, for everything,” Clarke offered as an awkward quiet fell between them. “I have no intention of betraying your generosity.”

“Of course not,” Meera nodded curtly, and Clarke saw her daughter instantly. “You are a smart girl, Clarke. I know you will make wise decisions.”

With a final nod, Clarke bowed as she’d seen the guards do, hopeful that it woul translate to some kind of honor and gratitude. The queen held out her hand as Clarke righted herself, an offering to leave with a handshake.

“I’m sure our paths will cross again,” the queen offered.

“I’d be honored.”

With a friendly smile, the leader of the country turned and left with no fanfare at all, while the agent still didn’t say another word, but rather led Clarke toward her car and away from the waves.

XXXXXXXXXX

The helmet crashed against the wall with a clamor that echoed through the empty wing of the palace. The silence after was just as violent, but not for too long. Books and papers thudded and scattered as they were shoved off of a desk in the rage that swelled.

“You forgot this,” a voice accompanied hands that held out a helmet, followed by a shield.

Lexa grit her teeth and threw them anyway, even though her father was mocking her, amused by her display, able to live through her anger instead of unleashing his own. Someone had to remain stoic, and this time it wasn’t going to be her. Doubled over and bracing herself on the desk, the princess tried to catch her breath, unsure of herself and unsure of what was going to come next; angry at everything, bitter about fate and life and time and all of it happening at the worst time.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?” Aquaman asked absently as he walked toward the window in the study in search of something to drink that would have a bite. He searched the decanters for something suitable while his daughter seethed.

“Forgive, forget, punish, convict, stick to it?”

“It’s not easy.”

“Everytime I think I’ve got something figured out, like I’m making progress, like I can somewhat fathom what my future might hold, it gets completely turned around.”

It was honest and earned a chuckle from the wide shoulders that now poured two drinks before turning back to her. He was amused by her failure, one that she took very personally, as she was known to do. No one was more serious than his daughter. There might have been too much of Meera in her, though his wife would disagree and attribute the stubbornness and penchant for self-flagellation as his own.

“You can’t control the actions of others, as nice as that might be,” Arthor sighed and handed his daughter a glass. “Your cousin has strong convictions.”

“That you’ve spent a lifetime trying to eliminate through peace and alliances with the Land.”

“I can’t say that I wouldn’t feel the same as Roan if I weren’t from there,” he acknowledged. “I think about it often. What would I care about the land at all if I’d grown up with my mother? I wouldn’t have any ties. But I try not to think about it too hard because that’s not our reality.”

Lexa hissed after downing her glass and slumping onto the plush sofa. The sea outside glowed slightly and fell into darkness and unknown, a smother, homey feeling to her.

Tall, broad, a mountain of a man, her father joined her, bringing the bottle and setting it between them after refilling her glass. She had his uncontrollable hair and pointy chin. She had his eyes and his brute force. She had his power-- the power of their blood, shared and royal and mythic. She had his heart, big and open and buried beneath a fortress.

“But I am the King of Atlantis, and not the Land. My duty-- our duty-- is to our people before all else. I believe in a peace with them to preserve our way of life. I won’t have a war because of pollution and poaching.”

“Why doesn’t he understand that it’s for the best? We can’t exterminate them or anyone who uses the water.”

“Because Roan is… he lacks vision. He loves a fight. He believes power comes from force, but it comes from--”

“Those who give it.”

“And a mythical, ancient bloodline and trident,” he smiled, eyes crinkling at the side, oddly at ease to be back at home despite a long battle above the coastline.

Lexa rolled her eyes and sighed again as she held the glass up to her lips and paused before closing her eyes and downing another. For an instant she thought about Clarke, now leagues away and lost to time, time she wouldn’t get back, time she wasn’t sure she’d be granted on land in light of the days events and the attack her cousin led against those ships.

“I should have paid attention. I was distracted. I should have known, or locked him up, or been--”

“You couldn’t have known he’d step out of line when he’d always toed it before. He may be a lot of things, but Roan was never one for complete treason.”

“Isn’t toeing that line the same thing?”

“That’s the most democratic thing we can allow to happen.”

“I should have known,” she whispered again, shaking her head.

“How could you? You were distracted rescuing damsels from wrecks.”

Knowingly, he grinned and looked at his daughter as she furrowed, blushed, and found the empty glass in her hand more interesting than meeting his eye as he teased.

“A moment of weakness.”

“Holding human life as precious is not weak. The ability to take it without understanding the weight of it, that is weakness. That’s a deficiency of the-- of the--”

“Heart.”

Aquaman smiled as his wife entered and found the right word, as she was always known to do for him. He watched her peruse the damage his daughter caused, the mess she’d made, the sag in her shoulder. Their language was innate, communicating it all without a word.

“I heard about what Roan did. He’s still at large?”

“Anya and the fleet are scouring the sea floor as we speak,” Lexa offered. “How was the Embassy?”

“We are ready for the commencement, now that the Justice League have finished saving the planet again and can be there as an act of good faith.”

“Most of them,” Arthur muttered, earning a glare.

“We’ll find Roan,” Meera promised, sitting beside her daughter. “But regardless, you must prepare for your time on land.”

“I’m still… but there’s-- I should--”

“I think we can handle running the country in your absence, your liege,” her father teased. “If your grace so desires.”

“I should deal with him.”

“I will enact his punishment. You will spend time with your grandfather, learning everything you can, preparing for your place as member of the League.”

“I have to prepare to lead our people.”

“The crown is two-fold now, Lexa,” Arthur shook his head. “Protecting our people means protecting our planet which means working with that dick in a bat suit.”

“The timing--”

“Is perfect. Your father is home now, and the leader of the opposition is on the run. It should be quiet and productive here again.”

“And I hear the best damsels are on land,” her father teased again, earning a scowl from his daughter and a warning look from his wife. “Barnes told me she was a real-- Ouch!”

The pillow flew across the coffee table and made him laugh as his wife shook her head.

“Clarke was an act of good will between nations. I would expect the same treatment of any one of my injured people if they washed ashore.”

“I hear you showed her the gardens.”

“It was that, or keep her locked up for a week, which hardly seemed fair,” Lexa defended herself.

“You’re going to see her, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“We’re certainly not going to let Roan get in the way of your growth and training and potential damsel.”

Another pillow pelted him in the face, followed quickly by another, then another, then another before he pushed back against the assault, lifting the women of his life so they couldn’t attack him anymore. He was home and they were all safe, and he needed it.

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cadcnce-archived · 4 years ago

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BIG ASS CHARACTER SHEET FOR FANTASY VERSE WYLAN

I found an image while going through my files for cursed pics to send @spiritmaiden, they had the audacity to take it and fill it out for the fantasy verse of their sky-zel, so I of course have to match the effort for Wylan because I’m not about to be shown up. It’s hella involved, nobody’s getting tagged but damn if you want an exercise in hitting your character then give it a shot. Most is under the cut because of length.

Character’s Name: Zachary Reis (Born) Wylan Rechtur (Used) Character’s nicknames: Ze (by his sister) Wy (by his friends and preferred) Zephyr (mercenary name, also what you’d see on any wanted posters) Gender: Male Righty or Lefty: Righty Age: 25-26 Height: 6′-0″ Weight: ~180 lbs Eye Color: Emerald green, bright and wide filled with a mix of confidence and playfulness. Hair color: Dark brown, messy and falling to his ears. Unkempt may be a good descriptor, but he generally keeps it down flatter at the least. Distinguishing marks: His body is pocked with marks and scars from fights and other disagreements, but the ones most easily discerned are knife scars on his hands, and a short arc above his left brow. Describe physical traits in one passage: A good way to view him is concealed strength and agility. He’s toned and in good shape but doesn’t often dress or carry himself in ways that would flaunt this. His posture and pose are loose, and his expressions can be lazy and playful. So the moment he flips that switch and uses the full brunt of his power? It’s a surprise. He’s also a bit on the lanky side, his body size doesn’t fully compliment the size of his limbs.

FAMILY/ RELIGION

Parents: Mother and father were disappeared/dead when he was just a bit over 6 years old and his sister was an infant. They were involved with the church but not royalty themselves. Wylan never spent much time figuring out what. They had a life left for him and his sister that he threw away as well. His father was a gentle soul while his mother was razor sharp and firm. Siblings: Younger sister, Katelynn Reis, but goes by Lyn with her friends. Wylan calls her Kat. She’s ~5 years younger than he, and remains with the church training and working as a healer. Whereas Wylan ran away from being a Paladin, she stayed strong to become a Cleric. Significant Other: Verse dependent, Wylan typically is averse to romance and prefers casual encounters. Children: None, nor is he open to them initially in his canon. Other relatives: None remain living that he is aware of. He and his sister were raised by his grandmother on his father’s side, but she passed away shortly after he left the knight’s academy, when Wylan was roughly 16-17. Pets: None. But he does enjoy talking to cats. Friends: Wylan is the type who ‘knows a guy’, he’s close with many tavernkeeps and makes nice with the adventurer’s guilds and their members as well. His work as an informant necessitates things like this. Wylan is also the type to consider most anyone he encounters and converses with a friend, whether they like it or not. His best friend though would easily be a wandering adherent by the name of Emke. I don’t care what the thread is about in some way she’s involved in his life. They’re platonic soulmates. Enemies: As a mercenary and hunter, some others in his craft would consider Wylan to be their rival, and in many cases he would view them just the same. It’s hard to say he has any enemies outside of pointedly evil factions however! Relationships (other): His relationship with his sister is an odd one. They’re still in touch via letters and the occasional visit, and he does what he can to support her with his money, but they’re not close like conventional siblings. There’s a strange codependence between them. Wylan depends on Lyn as a ‘rock’, and she depends on him as the ‘sea’. Ethnicity: Human! His origins are mostly a mix of Germanic/Portuguese if you wanted a comparison to Earth races/ethnicities. Religion: He recognizes the existence of higher powers but his relationship with them isn’t the best. As if being rebellious to his parents wasn’t bad enough he has to be tsundere towards The Light. This is noted when he uses holy magic such as wards and smiting spells and getting rebound into his own body upon use. Superstitions: He’s incredibly wary around the undead and spirits. So catch him spreading salt when he has to camp somewhere less than lively. Also give him a moment to sharpen his silver weaponry... Diction, Accent, ETC.: His dialect is pretty clean, though this depends on who he’s speaking to, being the travelling sort he is he’s capable of lightly ‘faking’ various accents, or just being lazy with his own manner of speech. Traces back to proper speaking that was drilled into him as a child and then his own rebelliousness. SCHOOL/ WORK / HOME Education (Highest): He was well learned with the academy work that he actually accomplished. While he never finished and never put his all into his studies, it was clear to his teachers that he had a gift for learning but a problem with conviction. Degrees: None! But just so I still have something here, one of his informal titles is ‘The Gale’s Fang’. Vocation/Occupation: Jack of several trades, wrapped up best as a mercenary informant, and a monster hunter. He’s good at tracking both people and monsters and taking them down- lethally or not so much. Employment History: Wylan was fully involved with the knight’s academy from the age of 6 to 16, so for those 10 years he had his hands full dealing with that and trying to figure out himself (poorly). Upon leaving the academy after the accident, he took up arms and was given tutelage by the thieves’ guild which taught him how to use his senses and move quietly through the shadows. Wylan didn’t make a good pickpocket, but he was good at reading other people and exceptional at duels. It wasn’t long before he took the advice of the guildmaster and made better uses of his talents. Not necessarily for good, but for more profit. By the age of 22 he was an accomplished and well connected informant, bartering information as well as putting his swordwork to use headhunting and slaying monsters that made issue outside the cities in which he frequented. This continues to current/canon start of interactions. Salary: He’s affluent enough not to worry too much about his state of living, but he can be prone to splurge spending that puts him in a bind for a few weeks at a time, at least until the next job puts money back on the table. Status and money: Continuing off the above, he’s decent enough with his funds (after sending money back to help out his sister) but wouldn’t be well off enough to be considered rich compared to his modern verse. Fortunately he has enough renown that jobs aren’t too hard to come by for him. And many barkeeps and friends are willing to open a tab for him. So he’s not too desperate. Own or Rent: Wylan typically rents inn rooms when he stays in the cities, and camps when he’s out in the woods. Technically he also owns if you count helping his sister keep her own place running (thought it’s really about 30-70, with his sister funding most of it) Living Space: Wylan never stays long at the room. It’s a place to go back to and sleep. Personal belongings? Very few. Most things he owns that he wouldn’t want to lose stay back with his sister kept in a basement or separate room that he uses on the rare times he’s back in the capital/holy city from which he originally hailed. As you can imagine, this isn’t very often. Work Space: N/A! He doesn’t have one! Given his work is almost entirely in the field. Main Mode of Transportation: CATCH A RIIIIIDE. Though he’s apt to have a horse around for transport if he isn’t going too far. Long voyages for when he changes locales would probably be hitching a ride with a caravan. He also doesn’t mind voyages on foot too much. PSYCHOLOGY Fears: Externally he has an aversion to ghosts and spirits. The concept of the dead coming back to haunt you isn’t something he much cares for. Having access to light magic should mostly assuage this, and yet it can give him goosebumps anyhow. Ironically he has a fear of large mammals in his modern verse but that shit doesn’t apply here given he’s a monster hunter! Internally he fears being forgotten, not making a name for himself, and dying before he can truly feel alive. Secrets: His birth name, Zachary Reis, isn’t something he will bring up with anyone. It’s not necessarily a ‘dead name’ for him, but it’s one he threw away the same time he decided he was going to toss away his ‘fate’ as a paladin. Taking the name of Wylan was another way he took his life for himself in his mind. Despite this being a path of self destruction. His sister is also something he doesn’t often bring up unless he very much trusts that person. IQ: Surprisingly high. He picks up a lot of information doing the work he does, but you wouldn’t be blamed for not believing this. Eating Habits: They could be a lot better. He eats enough to get by, but his diet isn’t as varied as it could be. Wylan hunts small game when he can, but he isn’t an exciting cook so ALAS. This boy prefers hitting up taverns and getting basic meals like stews, jerky, sandwiches, etc etc. Sleeping Habits: Wylan is a very light sleeper. Typically if you so much as step into the room he’s sleeping in he’ll snap into awareness. It takes a loooong day of exertion to keep him sleeping deep otherwise. Frustrating is how he ‘fakes’ being asleep. So someone could come in and start rummaging and he would still breathe and move as if he were still sleeping. Up until he sits up and stares or cracks a joke. Dare you to kiss him when you think he’s asleep. Book Preferences: History tomes every now and then. Wylan doesn’t read much fiction and prefers any time he spends reading to be somewhat productive! Make up for other education he missed as part a result of running on the academy. He also reads up on magic and sorcery to work on the wind affinity he also has. Music Preferences: Wylan doesn’t play any instruments but he DOES love love love to dance and sing. He’s an entertainer at heart and loves to rally people however he may. Suffice to say he’s amusing to go drinking with. And not just because he starts bar fights to amuse himself. Groups or Alone: He’s primarily a lone fighter. Some hunts he will of course work with a team of other hunters, he’s not stupid enough to take on the larger beasts by himself, but there’s a preference for doing things on his own terms. He’s self aware enough to know that his ways and methods can be grating, but ah... how all of that clashes with his desire to show off and have an audience. Being Wylan is suffering. Leader or Follower: He’s both, but prefers to be a follower if he can help it. Let other people make the plans then nudge them this way and that to better fit your own methods. He’s a prankster and a good compliment to most parties after all, so you’d be wise to utilize him! Lest he utilize himself... but that said, he’s an anti-hero, so there’s possibility in there for him to be a leader as well and take charge. It just isn’t his default nature and he’d rather not. Planned Out or Spontaneous: Wylan is chaos incarnate. Most everything he does outside of necessity/work is spontaneous. All his mischief and plans are cobbled together and thrown out there. Sometimes he’ll do a bunch of things at once, like throwing a bundle of darts at the wall to see which ones stick. And oh my fucking god don’t get me started on being romantic he can’t plan for shit in that department. Journal Entries (Do they keep one?) Nope. Not a daily journal at least. He’ll keep notebooks and the like for jotting down intel and what have you for jobs he takes up. But most of the time he’ll just have little notes in his pocket, and not really chronicle his life. He may also make ‘fake’ entries to tease people or trick them. See what he did to Zelda the one time. Be careful what you believe... Hobbies, Recreation: Tricks!! Sleight of hand!! Cards and dice!! Part of growing up and learning with a thieves’ guild is getting involved in lots of things that make use of your hands and dexterity. He likes playing random games with folks and oh! People watching. Stalking. Not the cutest thing but Wylan makes a hobby out of ‘testing himself’ and exercising his talents. His hobby is unfortunately annoying people, to summarize. How Do They Relax: His hobbies help him to relax! Also, if you can believe it, sitting back in a group conversation and watching the conversation happen and move forward. Learning about other people is something he likes doing, which is hypocritical since he can make himself so difficult to learn by contrast. BUT THE REAL THING HE DOES.. is practice sword fighting. Slow rhythmic swings of his blade, almost like a dance. He focuses his thoughts and calms his soul when he practices. It’s like a mix of swordfighting, dancing, and yoga. Controlling himself. Feeling himself. It’s multiple things. What Excites Them?: PEOPLE. Things! Happenings! The unknown and pushing himself to new limits. Honestly one of Wy’s biggest drives is doing something or becoming something that will make him ‘Feel Alive’. Because for all of his antics and frivolity he’s very much fighting an encroaching darkness in his soul. So he’ll search out bizarre things to get involved in. It’s one of the reasons he’s bugging Zelda, because her involvement in witchcraft and his own suspicions have him interested huehue. Pet Peeves: Being ignored. Like perfectly disregarding his existence and whatever he’s getting up to. If you’re not reacting to him being him then that means he’s not being effective and he’s losing. It’s his only real weakness... Prejudices: None. He’s not the most respectful person so most everyone, royalty or important or otherwise gets subjected to similar treatment. If anything, the more important you are the more likely you are to get annoyed! Attitudes: He’s usually with a front, a mask if you will. His general attitude is curious and nosy, but that’s fronted with a playfulness and proclivity for being annoying. Don’t be fooled, he’s usually something more pensive and calculating underneath that exterior. Wylan actually quiets a fair bit once that mask is taken away, his mood swings down and his tone is a touch deeper. Stressors: Things going awry and his friends being put in danger. He absolutely does not do well with people he cares about being hurt. One of the worst things that can happen to him is his sister dying for example, and has lead to one of his most self destructive plots I’ve written, in this verse especially. Lovers? Don’t hurt them. Don’t endanger them. The idea of rivals or enemies going after people he cares about.. hoo. MAN. None of that please. He can be SO damn possessive. In relationships he’s very self conscious as well of fulfilling their needs. So if his partner remarks, regardless of how offhandedly, they’d like more of something he will TRY TO MAKE THAT HAPPEN. Obsessions: Being an absolute pain in the ass. And in cases where someone has wronged him or someone close to him? Tracking them down and getting closure/revenge. That shit takes him to the brink of killing himself. Addictions: None to the point of being problematic, but he does love eating pickles. Ambitions: To make a name for himself, to be renowned and respected. To feel alive and accomplished as a person. He’d also like to take down a dragon someday. Get some armor from its scales and a sword out of that shit. As Seen by Others: Capable and dangerous, but impossible to work with for long periods. Keep a tight lip around him lest he use that information against you and learn things you’d rather keep secret. A lecherous womanizer. As Seen by Self: A body of broken glass, encased in a shell, covered in masks. Who are you? What are you? Where are you even going? You’re lost. You’re aimless. You’re swimming and swimming and eventually you’re going to be tired, aren’t you? ASTROLOGY/PHISIOLOGY Birth Date: October 10. Time of Birth: Evening. Western Astrological Sign: Libra Traits Associated with Western Sign: Social, Clever, Unreliable, Diplomatic Traits Associated with Chinese Zodiac: N/A, seeing as I don’t age Wylan with the years this doesn’t really apply. Handwriting: Clean when he needs it to be, but otherwise a quick script with lots of pen strikes. He’s capable with drawing diagrams and the like as well! This boy can throw out monster diagrams with weak points and other ecological notes oh yes yes. Sexual History: Wylan was already exploring that sort of thing before he left the academy, so yes... as early as 16 he’d already lost the v-card. He doesn’t really do relationships and enjoys casual encounters. Many a maiden at the bar or elsewhere has taken him for a spin. Typically partners aren’t reoccurring in fantasy verse, however. He’s... well, very good in the performance category. General Health: A+ healthy aside from the sleep and subpar diet bits. Strong and good stamina. Medical History: He’s nearly died one times too many. Been stabbed, cut, poisoned, bitten, but hey he’s still alive! And that’s what he’d argue matters with this business. Allergies: SHELLFISH. Chronic Illnesses: None to speak of. Handicaps: He’s somewhat of a type B tsundere. It’s awful. OBJECTS Purse / Bag: He’s got a coin purse that he’ll carry spare gold around in for spending on what have you. Supposedly food but he’s weak to splurge purchases. Most everything else he keeps on him in his pockets and his belt. Wallet: Uhhh see above, coin purse!!! He’s got enough for the week or so!! Don’t try and pickpocket him because he will catch you and you will feel stupid. Fridge: He doesn’t keep food around. He more or less has to scavenge for everything he eats either through buying or hunting. That’s kind of the life for the vagrant he is, isn’t it? Medicine Cabinet: N/A, but he does keep bandages and salves at his room. Glove Compartment: N/A!! Junk Drawer: NNNNNN/AAAAAAA Kitchen Cabinets: Wylan get a house so I can fill this out challenge. Bedroom Hiding Place: Behind a wall panel or somesuch if he can manage. Otherwise in the floor or outside the window. Closets: His wardrobe typically includes tunics, coats, leather armor and harnesses for his weaponry! He’s got a couple swords in fantasy verse, and he’s got throwing knives and a grappling hook!! Backback: Yeah uh see above, what a question. Locker: None Desk: WYLAN KEEP ITEMS AROUND CHALLEEEEENGE. Clothes pocket: Daggers, notes, maybe a writing implement and paper so he can jot things down. He’s also got little knick knacks like a gem or a monster tooth to show off. Isn’t it cool??? Also lint.

OTHER Halloween Costumes: Werewolf!!! Get him in either just a lazy one with gloves and ears or deck him out in the whole garb. Love that idea on him. In one verse Big Bad Wolf is his nickname, and in another he flat out IS a werewolf! So yeAH. Tricks: He’s very skilled at sleight of hand!! Card flourishes and dice rolls. Cup games. Illusions and dexterity... he’s a slippery one! He’s also likely to catch you in words, using things you say against you. He gets really meta and oh how annoying that can get... Talents: SWORDPLAY- He learned from a very early age at an esteemed academy where only the best knights get trained. He mixes that style with a more ‘street’ type that he picked up with the thieves’ guild and even further as a monster hunter and mercenary. Suffice to say that all mixes together into multiple stances he can switch between depending on what he’s up against. Strong sweeping strikes, vicious stabbing and leaping, poised dueling and parrying... he’s a TOUGH fight. MAGIC: Wylan is at odds with his use of holy magic that utilizes the light to bless and heal. Until he comes to terms with himself and the power he wants to channel it’ll have ‘blowbacks’ on himself. Fingers will burn, head will ache, and his stomach will flip. But it’s still undeniably effective for where it is! Aside from that he knows some wind magic to supplement himself. He’s not known as ‘Zephyr’ for nothing after all! Gusting steps, slashing winds, REALLY BIG JUMPS!!! If you throw him he’s a fantastic projectile! And lets see- DANCING! He learned it first as part of his etiquette as a knight, but it’s something that’s evolved with him and oh does he enjoy festivals for that reason. Ballroom styles are what he’s most familiar with. Dance with him. Please dance with him. Politics: Indifferent! Doesn’t care for authority figures to begin with so in any case or kingdom with a monarchy he’s very buh about it. He’s very self-accomplished and his beliefs would push him towards meritocracy over anythign else if you ask me! Flaws: Suspicious, possessive, and very persistent. This could be a strength too but for the most part can be seen as a detriment because of how it ends up being applied. Which is in self-destructive tendencies WOO. He’s also very lustful, and can be distracted by a fine woman and let himself be swayed by his desires over time. Have I mentioned he isn’t the most reliable? He’s apt to lie to people and give intentionally wrong impressions just to make it easier for him to slip away. You gotta go up a few levels to unlock that... So yeah, sins are WRATH, LUST, and ENVY. Strengths: NONE. Okay if you earn a solid place as his friend there is almost NO limit to what he’ll do to protect you. Wylan has a ridiculous amount of determination and mental fortitude and he can and will strike down a GOD to keep those things that are precious to him. He’s also an amusing character to have around, if you are feeling bummed he is almost guaranteed to find a way to cheer you up and support you if only so he can not feel as guilty teasing as he usually does HUE. He’s got a very up beat personality! Sure, a lot of it is a mask but he WANTS it to be real and that’s what really matters if you ask me. His reckless optimism can be endearing. There’s a lot of other surprising mental qualities such as how clever and quick witted he can be. Part of that mental fortitude lets him think and fight on his feet regardless of how much pressure he’s under. It takes a LOT to dampen his thought processes. Drugs/Alcohol: He drinks frequently, but he wouldn’t be counted as a drunkard. Wylan rarely drinks to excess, and prefers to do so among friends and good company. Passwords: Uh, do ritual prayers count? Magical spells? Heh. Email Address, Home Page, Blogs, etc.: Oh if only this were for modern verse... Time and place: Medieval fantasy! Magic and creatures! I also love throwing Monster Hunter vibes in for the big monsters he goes up against. Special Places: For him? Cliffs overlooking the ocean. Abandoned temples he can just chill at. For all he enjoys being around people now and then he really appreciates quiet isolation. Special Memories: Lots of memories with his sister before they more or less split ways. There’s one in particular where he was trying to teach her swordplay when she was just a little girl, and she about stubbed his toe when the wooden practice sword fell right on it. Her panicked attempts to try and heal him were something that really stuck with him.

#musings :: about #verse :: fantasy #dash :: games hc #THIS TOOK FOREVER #but was so satisfying to write and get out there #hell fuckin yes #if you actually read this? props tbh

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ao3porcelainstorm · 4 years ago

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poison ivy & stinging needles 27

On Ao3

Masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 26 - Chapter 28

Chapter 27 - Unwell

I might be okay, but I’m not fine at all.

(—)

A month after Sherlock’s death and Amelia found herself standing at the front of his grave with a single pink carnation dangling between her fingers.

“It looks nice,” she commented to John, studying the newly erected grave marker. “Very... him, I guess.”

The friends stood in silence, staring down at the ground, each juggling their own complex emotions about the whole situation.

“I’ll let you-,” John cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his coat pockets, shuffling away to give her some privacy.

Others had clearly come to pay their respects since the funeral. Notes of gratitude and blooming bouquets covered the sleek obsidian stone.

“This one means ‘I’ll never forget you’,” she mumbled, feeling a little foolish talking to a rock. “I thought it was a little more appropriate than bringing a sprig of aloe to symbolize ‘grief’. Granted, I ended up digging through an old farmers almanac for reference since I left my books at Baker Street and well-.”

She stepped up to the grave and draped the carnation over the top. Stepping back to her spot, she tugged at the sleeves of her coat anxiously.

“I dropped out of therapy,” she confessed quietly. “I think John knows, because he’s been asking about my appointments. She just kept bringing you up and I just couldn’t- it still really hurts, you know?”

The stone didn’t reply, though a small sparrow did hop near the carnation and poke around its petals.

“I swear I saw one of the nurses who was there the other day,” she continued, biting her bottom lip and staring up at a nearby tree to try and blink back some tears. “John swore it was just some lady from your homeless network, but she was wearing this bracelet that I swear-.”

“Maybe I should go back to therapy,” she muttered under her breath. “I just have this overwhelming feeling that this isn’t... it’s never this simple with you. It just doesn’t add up. I can’t talk to anyone about it because they think I’m this crazy grieving mess- which is true but- come on. We both know I’m right.”

The sparrow pooped on the stone and fluttered away.

“Right,” she nodded to herself, laughing at how ridiculous she felt venting to a grave.

(—)

Amelia found herself at the grave again the next day.

It was raining, so she’d bundled herself in one of John’s old rain coats and huddled under an umbrella. She was alone this time, but brought another flower.

“Purple hyacinth,” she held up the small flower to the stone. “It’s means ‘sorrow’. Pretty apt, don’t you think?”

She moved to place it next to the carnation from the day before, but found the flower was missing. A quick glance confirmed the weather hadn’t knocked it astray, so she assumed it was snatched up by a bird or passing mourner.

“Maybe they needed it more than you do,” she reasoned before telling him a funny story John had told her the day before.

(—)

Amelia wanted to visit a third day in a row, but before she left for the graveyard, she wanted to pick up another flower at the small flower shop near the site.

It was while she was debating between a violet and a blue salvia when she noticed a familiar face parting the graveyard.

Replacing the flowers into their displays, she darted after the person. Against her best judgement, she called out and flagged her down, throwing on a smile when she greeted her.

“Uh, hi,” she started, catching her breath. Amelia knew she needed to play this subtly. She thought back to the ways Sherlock had explained how to pull information out of people. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

The woman blinked at her in confusion a few moments before her expression lit up with a brief recollection.

“You’re Holmes’ lady,” she noted with a nod. Her expression immediately fell somber. “I was just paying my respects. You know, before he died, he helped land me a job over at the DVLA? Just said he owed me for all my help over the years.”

So John had been right, Amelia noted, giving the woman a once over. She must have been part of his homeless network. Though not that she was face to face with her, Amelia was even more convinced she was the same nurse she’d seen that day.

Amelia continued idle chatter a moment, more formally introducing herself and inviting her to a late lunch at a diner up the street.

Sarah, Amelia later learned, was quite clever.

She’d shared a bit of her sad tale, of addiction and a string of abusive partners that landed her locked outside her flat one day with no where to go.

“Holmes helped cover some basic living expenses,” she explained, sipping at a mug of tea. “He knew I’d made some connections in the streets and the work was easy to come by. Even once I’d found a flat, I helped him. Nothing easier than dressing in a mess and watching all day.”

“You said he helped you get a job at the driver’s licensing agency?” Amelia inquired casually.

“He mentioned his brother could pull a few strings,” she shrugged. “I’d been trying to find more stable employment for a while now. Go back to school. That sort of thing and he offered to help.”

“Just out of the blue?” Amelia chuckled in disbelief. “That hardly sounds like him.”

Sarah laughed, her lips smiling in an unspoken agreement.

“You know him best,” she hummed. “He needed a little help with a case. Just some eyes and ears. I found a few people I trusted and I had an interview the next week. Just a shame what happened, the poor man. I don’t believe a lick of it.”

“It’s a bit sad the jurors came clean after the fact,” Amelia agreed bitterly, the sweetened tea she’d sipped going sour in her mouth. “I’m glad I ran into you, Sarah, truly. I haven’t had the best time talking to anyone about this and well... thank you.”

Sarah seemed moved by the confession and took Amelia’s hand tenderly.

“Oh it’s no problem, you seem like a sweet girl,” she sighed before reaching in her purse and pulling out a piece of paper and pen. “Text or call me anything. We can do lunch again or I’d be happy to visit the grave with you.”

She scribbled down her details, passing the note to Amelia with another genuine smile. Before long after that, she had to leave, citing a meeting with a cable installer.

“I lived under an overpass,” she stated, sighing. “Now I’m scheduling services like a real adult. It’s something, isn’t it?”

“You never mentioned what Sherlock needed help with?” Amelia chuckled, helping her toward the exit and holding the door open. “Was it a recent case?”

Sarah paused, hesitating slightly before that disarming smile flashed back on her features.

“Kind of,” she answers cryptically. “Got to play a little dress up, which was a nice change of pace.”

“Huh,” Amelia shrugged. “Sounds like Sherlock. Be safe.”

They parted and Amelia fished the small paper out of her coat pocket to enter in Sarah’s information into her phone. She was almost confident her suspicions were right, though almost switched to definitely when she flipped the paper over and realized with was a business card.

A business card with Inspector Greg Lestrade’s name and contact information printed on the other side.

(—)

Later that night, Amelia brought the subject up to John who chalked it up to coincidence.

“But how could it be a coincidence? She had to have been there,” she insisted. “Maybe I mistook her clothes for scrubs. We both know Greg hands out his cards to witnesses in case they remember something.”

“You said she was homeless, right?” he asked tersely, glaring up from his newspaper. “Maybe she was offered some help? Or witnessed some other crime? Greg is a very busy man, his world doesn’t revolve around the great Sherlock Holmes.”

“You have to admit it’s weird,” she challenged. “I knew I recognized her face and sure enough, she said she’d been visiting Sherlock’s grave!”

John tensed and folded his paper under his arm, standing abruptly.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, or why you’re so preoccupied with all of this, but it’s not like you’re going to find any answers,” he snapped at her, retreating toward his room. “It’s just going to lead to more hurt. Sherlock is gone, Amelia, it’s time we move forward with our lives.”

He closed the door to his bedroom on that note, leaving Amelia standing in the middle of the apartment with her mouth agape.

He’d called her Amelia.

John never called her Amelia.

She wasn’t sure what to do. Deep down, she knew John was hurting as much as she was, perhaps even more. They’d been as close as brothers, and she could imagine the betrayal he felt at his friends final decision. Maybe even guilt.

She certainly felt it. Everyday she felt it.

Moving toward the door to his room, she knocked lightly and listened for a response.

When none came, she decided to just apologize and let him know she was going out for the night.

“Don’t wait up,” she added with a mumble, grabbing her things and leaving the apartment.

She wandered through the neighborhood a while, collecting her thoughts as nighttime began to fall over the city. London had such a unique air to it that varied so much from her home in New York.

Her home.

She supposed London was her home now, or at least Baker Street. Now she wants so sure. Amelia had put her home in a person, rather than a place, and now she felt unbearable lost.

Hands stuffed in her pockets for warmth, her fingers touched Lestrade’s business card. She pulled it out and frowned at the office number listed.

It wasn’t too late. Maybe he was still on duty?

But what could she ask him? That some random woman named Sarah was at the scene of Sherlock’s death?

It was probably like John said, a big coincidence. It wasn’t like Sarah had shoved the detective off the rooftop. Amelia had seen enough to know he leapt of his own physical will- his emotional notwithstanding.

The was no way Lestrade would even let her access the files either. Thatd be ridiculous. A total breach in protocol-

“Looks like a Sarah Patterson was interview the day of the suicide,” Lestrade bit into the sandwich Amelia had brought and plucked the file out from one of the boxes stacked next to his desk.

Tossing it toward her, he focused on the meal, thanking her again for offering to pick something up on her way over.

“You’re just going to let me read this?” she asked, eyeing the folder suspiciously.

“I think yoI forget I’m used to dealing with your dead boyfriend,” he replied bluntly, cringing when she frowned at his words. “Sorry. Still fresh. I know. I get short when I’m dealing with- it’s why my wife- just open the damn thing, get what you need and let me know if you’re going to do something stupid. Least I can do is make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Amelia snorted back a laugh in response, flipping through the file and skimming through the details.

“It says you interviewed her,” she noted in surprise. “Do you remember what she looked like?”

Lestrade huffed out a sigh, leaning back in his chair.

“You’re aware I talk to a lot of people, every day,” he explained. “Just give me her ID number and I’ll pull her up in the system. I’m sure there’s a driver’s license on record with a picture.”

Amelia listed off the numbers in the corner of the file and after typing in the sequence, Greg turned his computer monitor around to show her the woman’s face.

Sure enough, Sarah, the woman she’d met earlier, was staring back at her.

Amelia looked back down at the file and noted the details.

Sarah was apparently a nurse who’d witnessed the fall and responded immediately. She’d taken the pulse of the subject and was able to describe the state of the body with somewhat harrowing medical detail.

“Get what you need?” he asked, turning the computer back toward him.

“I think so,” she closed the folder and passed it back to him. “Any chance I can get a copy of that license?”

“It’s on the printer on your way out,” he nodded toward the photocopier outside the office.

“You’re a gem, Greg,” she smiled up at him appreciatively.

“Let’s do dinner with everyone or something soon,” he called after her. “You look terrible and I know Molly misses you.”

“Right,” Amelia answered absently, snatching up the paper and typing the ID’s address into her phone.

(—)

Amelia stirred to someone nudging her foot.

“Dr. Brenner, this isn’t exactly the best neighborhood to take a nap in,” Mycroft’s voice stated dryly.

Eyes snapping open, she jolted awake, disoriented from her dazed state.

“What are you doing here?” she yawned, double checking her wallet was still safely tucked away in her coat.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied, gesturing to a waiting car. “It’s nearly 4 in the morning.”

“I was waiting for a friend,” she lied, and Mycroft quirked a brow. “Why are you on this side of town?”

“Your phone’s GPS went offline,” he answered. “This was its last location.”

“Why are you tracking my phone?” she asked, trudging toward the car and sliding inside when he opened the door.

“Because I had an inkling that you would go off and do something irrational like sleep on a bench in an unsafe area in the middle of the night,” he stated. “There is still an ongoing investigation into Moriaty’s holdings and you are a prime target now that my brother has... passed.”

“Aw-,” she hummed, leaning back into the comfortable interior and closing her eyes. “You’re like my guardian bureaucrat. Did you volunteer for the job? Or does someone in your office have a twisted sense of humor?”

“Would you believe me if I said both?”

“And here I thought you hated me.”

“Hates a strong word.”

“Dislike then.”

“I was under the impression that was how you regarded me.”

“I’m a little ambivalent given the fact you traded your brother’s life for some ill gotten victory on a maniac.”

“His death prevented thousands more down the line.”

“Thanks Spock, cool motive, still killed him.”

“Are you still living above the flower shop?” he asked, changing the subject.

“It’s not really a flower shop. Burnt down remember?” she replied, opening an eye to peek at him. She supposed if he was tracking her phone, he probably knew all about her and John’s move to the new flat.

“Have you considered reopening? It might be a nice distraction from your internalized rage,” he suggested, crossing his arms.

“Is that your interpretation or John’s?” she challenged, opening her other eye and glaring at him.

“Mrs. Hudson’s,” he answered with the smallest smirk. Amelia could have smacked him for finding any sort of amusement from this, but god if the Holmes’ brothers didn’t share that identical grin. “She’s concerned. John hasn’t been answering my calls, but apparently he’s been sharing quite the stories with her.”

“Internalized rage is a bit of a stretch.”

“Grief is a complex emotion, we all handle it in different ways,” he continued. “I know my brother was… special to you.”

Amelia let out a dry laugh at his words. Special. As if Mycroft wasn’t well aware of the relationship between the two of them. As if he hadn’t found her shaking on the roof, meters aware from where the detective had leapt to his death.

“And let me guess,” she saw they were approaching the street of her apartment. “You handle it by being a total jackass? Or is that just how you normally deal with the deaths of siblings?”

“In my position, you have to take the positives in even the most devastating of circumstances,” he murmured and Amelia caught him glance down at his lap. Was that a little emotion she spied? “I regret the loss, but he was my brother and I have to respect the decision he made to protect others. Certainly that hasn’t been lost on you?”

The car came to a stop at the curb and Amelia reached for the door, pausing as she considered his words.

“It wasn’t,” she answered. “But I firmly believe the world would have been a better place is he were still in it.”

“I think we can both agree on that.”

(---)

Chapter 28

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