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fleetingcalypso · 7 months ago

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Greetings, oh beautifully talented Calypso.

Today I come forward to ask you a quite peculiar request for a fic, if you'd be comfortable writing about it.

If you'd like to humor me, I am definitely a sucker for Francis Abernathy, therefore I present to you a prompt for him, that takes place in the timeline after the end of college.

Since I tremendously like the way you portray the characters psychological traits, I believe you could write a masterpiece out of this.

Could you write about a reunion between Francis and the reader, who has received Francis' goodbye letter and rushed to his side, after they went no contact for years.

Maybe they were occasional lovers while in college, but Francis kept the reader as a side piece for when Charles didn't want him? All while the reader had genuine feelings for him and stayed by his side even though they knew it was extremely toxic?

How would this reunion end? Would it be with or without comfort? If it's okay for you to write this, I'll leave this decision up to you. Thank you for listening and have a good day!

≋ Quite heartbreaking, being used as a replacement for an impossible love.

≋ Francis Abernathy x AMAB!Reader ≋

≋ Word Count: 2259 words.

≋ TW: Mentions of sh, mentions of s*icide, depressive themes, mentions of d*ath, probable manipulation and toxic relationship, one-sided love, lavender marriage.

≋ CW: Angst with no happy ending. Hurt/No Comfort. Reader is AMAB, but it can be read as GN!Reader.

“Mon amant,”

These are the first words I receive from the one man I gifted my best moments to. Black ink on white paper laughs in my face and mocks me, the swirls in his penmanship whirl me into an hallucinogenic land I hadn’t stepped foot in for what felt like ages. The last time I spoke to him was at a funeral in St. Louis, a wretched day, where he promised me, with his gaze fixed on a black casket, that he’d never drift too far from me. After that, I’d only meet him in my dreams, during those nights where I thought my time had come.

Just eight letters perfectly placed, that was all it took for dried flowers to be bathed in holy water and blossom into divine red roses. For years and years I had tried to contact him, but in vain; my efforts in hearing his voice again, feeling his skin, catching a glimpse of his eyes only succeeded in my heart shrivelling up into something unrecognisable, chewed, consumed by worms and larvae. Each letter I sent found its way back to my doorstep, each call was left unanswered, Richard was my only way of knowing Francis was even alive at all.

Casting my feelings aside for just a moment, me and my soul feel no shame in drinking up each and every word on the page, it’s like eating cherries. One word leaves me hungry for the other, a famine coming to an end; after so long with only my memories keeping his memory alive it is difficult to contain my craving for any scrap of him I can get my cursed hands on.

His letter reads like an obituary although written in haste.

“Mon amant,

I will not bother you with worthless, dishonest chatter of the likes of ‘How are you, my friend? We haven’t talked in a while!’ because this is most likely the first and last time I will speak to you in more time than I want to admit.

Seeing Henry being lowered into the ground, with none of our friends present, cleared a lot of fog into my mind, honestly I think this was a long time coming. Don’t feel sorry for me. You of all people, I wholeheartedly feel, should be somewhat relieved.

As I’m writing this, I realise - or perhaps I knew it all along - that I have been anything but kind to you, in our youth. I do ask, beg even, that you forgive me for my sins.

Forgive me for the kisses we shared, forgive me for those gasps I breathed against your neck, forgive me for having moulded you into the silhouette of what I was looking for in a lover, without ever actually dipping more than my finger in your waters.

Forgive me for all the promises I didn’t even try to keep.

There are many things we did together that I can still remember: when my eyes are closed and I'm tip-toeing on the fine line between sleep and wakefulness, my mind brings me back to whispers in the dark, to my back being pressed against the wall and to your hand in mine.

I won’t reminisce any longer. It leaves an all too saccharine aftertaste in my mouth.

If it matters any, you are the one thing I can’t bring myself to regret.

If after I fall into eternal sleep I happen to run into Henry, I will not hesitate in speaking my mind and asking him why the hell he was so selfish as to leave us all behind and not cause a bloodbath in that hotel room.

Again, please don’t feel too anguished over this. It was only a matter of time.

Yours, if only for a fleeting moment in time,

Francis”

I read it, again and again, until it is burned into my retinas. I could repeat it out loud like a litany, like a religious chant forwards and backwards, in my sleep even. I most likely did repeat it in my sleep, as while I was on a plane rushing to his side in Logan, I remember being gently stirred awake by a young girl who thought I was trapped in what she called a nightmare. I assured her I was alright, but my words would soon reveal themselves to be false.

It was indeed a night terror that I was going through, only I wasn’t asleep and this was the cruel reality that fate had written in the cards for me. And terror inhabited my heart when my eyes finally met his once again.

Who was this man? Where had my Francis gone? Had I gotten the wrong room? Of course I hadn’t, he was reserved a private one, his personal nurse guided me to it.

We stared at each other and not a single muscle was moved, not until he was the one to break the spell that had enchanted us into cold statues. He sighed and turned away. I felt it like a slap in my face, still I rushed to the chair next to his bed, almost tripping over my own feet.

“Francis.” I breathe, tasting his name on my tongue, invisible maraschino cherries grazing my taste buds turning sour when my vision focuses on the bandages around his wrists. It’s unreal. The first time I can breathe in the air he exhales after an everlasting apnea, and it’s because he attempted to take his own life.

I want to scream. I want to break something. Hell, I’d strike him, if he wasn’t injured. What right does he have to take away what I hold closest to my chest? I could have lived, knowing he was alive, living his best - or worst- life somewhere in a far away meander of the world. I could have lived without his presence next to me. I could have endured it for a million lifetime, not knowing if my gaze would catch a glimpse of his red curls ever again.

What I could not live with, was knowing he was not on this Earth anymore. That my affection was being dispersed into the wind, melting into the roots of trees with no way of reaching its recipient.

Silence reigned, I had left my house in a hurry, not even bothering to wash my dishes, fold my laundry or clean the coffee that spilled on my kitchen table when I read the name inked on the back of the letter delivered to me. It dawns on me tragically. I was so eager to finally be able to count the freckles on his cheeks again, that not for one second had I prepared what to say in his presence.

Surprisingly -or maybe not- he is the one to speak first, his words send an ice dagger through me, “How are you? We haven’t talked in a while.” He says not looking at me, just like he did during Henry’s funeral. History repeats itself.

These are the first words I receive from the one man I gifted my best moments to, this time at the very least I can hear his voice as he mocks me with what he quotes as worthless, dishonest chatter.

“Francis.” There’s a masked harshness to my tone that grabs him by the jaw and forces him to look my way once again. “You tried to kill yourself.”

“Wow, I left you as sharp as an arrow and I find you as dull as an unsharpened knife.” It sounds more like a tease than an insult, the slight rising of his eyebrow confirms my doubt.

Why the hell would you do that? I want to say, why the hell would you promise me to stick by my side and then disappear like a phantom? Why in the world would you eradicate your existence from my life? But the words never come, because they’re not the ones I should say right now and with the way his hollowed eyes gaze into mine, it’s obvious he understands my struggle in not blowing up.

“I’ve been selfish,” He admits, trying to sit up straighter, my hands fists the material of my trousers to hold back from helping him, “I did not expect to see you ever again. That day, when we said goodbye to Henry…” For a blink of an eye he’s back in time, standing at my side, three rows behind our friend’s weeping mother, “Some inconsiderate part of me truly wanted to be with you, I was looking at the future and there wasn’t much I could count as permanent. Not even life itself. But you… You were always there for me.”

“I was.” I’m not ashamed to admit it. Those times where Charles wanted nothing to do with Francis, I was, without fail, the one he seeked comfort in. My body did not hesitate when it was pulled in bathroom stalls, in bedrooms or in a secluded corner of the library back at Hampden. Maybe he liked having me as his paramour because of my gentle touch and the way I’d carefully set his glasses to the side before kissing him, maybe being on the receiving hand of love and care made him feel more alive than his hair being pulled and teeth digging into his neck.

“I was scared.” Unlike me, he is ashamed. “I was scared if I kept you in my life, I would forever be reminded of what we did.”

“What we did?” I echo him and he nods solemnly. It’s when his teeth begin torturing his bottom lip, that I almost let myself be pulled back in the past. I almost feel like Orpheus and Eurydice together as one, one single look behind me and I will be forever lost in what could have been. His tongue peaks out to alleviate the damage his teeth are guilty of and it is done.

Invisible spirits wrap themselves around my limbs and guide my hand on top of his, I restrained myself as much as humanly possible. His letter sits in the chest pocket of my jacket, it weighs heavy, though it is not the reason my body leans towards him.

Mesmerised by the way his curls bounce when his head shakes it takes a while for me to realise he’s slipped his hand away from mine to reach for a cigarette on his nightstand, jealousy possesses me when such a small object fits perfectly between his lips, nonetheless I light it up for him. The nearby ashtray is already a residence to a dead cigarette, though it looks like it was put out as soon as it was lit.

After breathing out a cloud of smoke Francis decides it’s time to throw my world off its axis, “I’m getting married. I have to, or I can kiss my grandfather’s money goodbye.” If jealousy possessed me earlier, for a simple cigarette, now a pit sits in my stomach, my head tilts in confusion because it’s all I can do while my throat goes dry. “To an impossibly stupid girl, of all people.” He adds, and it doesn’t take long until he shoves in my hands a photo of someone I don’t recognize.

“She’s pretty.”

“Richard said the same. You just missed him, he left a moment before you arrived.” For some reason it irks me that Richard was here before me. He’d always been everywhere and nowhere at once yet somehow still in the way. Too often Francis had confessed to me how interesting it would be if he could have a chance with Richard.

The more I stared at the smiling woman in the picture the more daggers piercing me. While he may not ever truly love her like a man loves a woman, perhaps she could give him a good life. Something he clearly did not want with me. I’m quick to brush that thought away, the same way I set the photo back onto the nightstand. “Nonetheless congra-”

“I had found someone else.” He interrupts and at this point maybe it would have been better if I had just stayed at home, if I had forgotten Francis Abernathy existed and if I had tried to wash his taste out of my mouth with soap. Each and every word he says is a bullet aimed to kill, he probably doesn’t even realise or if he does then the years have made him much more cruel than I could have ever imagined. “His name is Kim, he’s a lawyer, he went to Harward, he was good. But no, instead I have to marry a stupid girl, whose presence sucks the fun out of every room she steps foot into.”

“I’m sorry.” What else is there to say? “I’m really sorry, Francis.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“No, no you shouldn’t have.”

I wonder if I could offer him to run away together. I wonder if he’d agree to let me be his saviour. I wonder if he opened up to Richard in one day more than he ever did with me. I wonder if he’s going to notice that I stole one of his cigarettes. I wonder how much time I’ve spent sitting in silence on a bench a couple streets away from Brigham and Women’s Hospital. I wonder how much time has passed since I last smoked a cigarette. I wonder why it doesn’t hurt as much as I imagined when the letter he wrote me burns at my feet. I wonder when the next flight back home is.

#fleetingcalypso #calypsodaydreams #the secret history x reader #francis abernathy x reader #angst #hurt/no comfort #francis abernathy #reader insert #dark academia #tsh donna tartt #the secret history #amab reader #gn reader

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sodiumlamp · 11 months ago

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Picard

The one thing, the only thing that I really cared about with Picard Season 2 was this moment where he hugs Q. I don't know if I just figured out he was dying all on my own, or I read spoilers at some point. But I'm pretty sure I saw this and decided there was really only one reason for this. I mean, I guess Q could just be "going away for a really long time." Like he got a job screwing with some other characters in a different dimension, and he won't be back before Picard dies of old age. But it simplifies things if he's just dying, or whatever the Q version of death is.

And I guess the basic idea is sound. Q knows he's only got so much time left, and he wants to spend it on one last romp with Picard, and this one is extra special because it forces Picard to confront his feelings about his mother's suicide.

I don't like Yvette's suicide in a vacuum. It's pretty fucking dark, and the gravitas it would have had in another show is wasted in Star Trek: Picard, which does constantly hotshots dark moments in a vain effort to be profound. By the time we get to Yvette's noose we've already seen Icheb's eye get plucked out, several other character deaths, Evil General Picard's skull collection, and all the spooky hallucinations and flashbacks that foreshadowed the Yvette reveal. The actual reveal gets lost in the shuffle.

Still, for what they were trying to do with Q, the gesture he was trying to make to Picard, it almost has to be something that big and character redefining. It's just that it's a good idea that was cast in the purgatory of this tedious bullshit show. Q's powers giving out was completely unnecessary, except as a way to drag out the story. Now he has to walk everywhere and use proxies like Adam Soong, which just ruins the pacing. All the other Q stories are settled in two hours or less, and that's because he can appear whenever and wherever to gas up the plot, or vanish to allow the story to simmer. But Picard isn't built that way.

The thing I realized today is that this show, and others like it, relies more on the audience speculation than the actual writing. What I mean by that is: You get one story over several episodes, and you're supposed to watch them over a span of time, and between episodes you're supposed to wonder about what's going to happen next. You're expected to rewatch the episodes you have access to and search for clues, formulate fan theories, and then tune in for the next one and see if you were right. And there's fun to be had there, but with Picard, it feels like the show is constructed more to tickle the viewer's curiosity more than actually telling a compelling story. For example:

Most of this episode is about the good guys trying to protect Renee and the Europa launch so Adam Soong doesn't spoil it. Q's nearly powerless, and the Borg Queen left in the previous episode, so there's no one left to be the villain except Soong, and he's... not a strong enough character to carry that off. He tries to poison Renee with a fast-acting neurotoxin, but Gary Eight fakes him out with a decoy. Soong's backup plan is to destroy the spacecraft itself with drones, but Raffi hacks their guidance system and Rios manages to use one drone to take out the other three. Then Kore reappears to reveal she erased all his research files, just to twist the knife. Utterly defeated, Soong reaches into his desk and pulls out a file entitled "PROJECT KHAN". You know, like the Star Trek villain. Khan? You know who that is? Do you?

It's... a dumb moment. This story is over, so there's nowhere for it to go. The good guys return to 2401 at the end of this episode, so they don't have to deal with the Eugenics Wars. And we already know how Khan ended up. This show isn't gonna pay any of this off.

But earlier in this viewing, I considered that maybe Adam Soong had something to do with the Eugenics Wars, since he seemed to be a hawk for genetic engineering, and then it turned out he cloned dozens of daughters in some sort of weird experiment. So during the long, dull minutes of this season, I wondered if maybe he was going to turn out to be involved with Khan and the Eugenics Wars somehow. That was kind of fun. And I was right! Good for me!

Except... I had to make my own fun. The text of Star Trek: Picard doesn't actually do much with any of this. Adam Soong's arc in this season is:

Whoa, what's Brent Spiner doing here?

Oh, he's a scientist with a sick daughter, and he's desperate enough to help Q.

Oh, he's turning into a huge dick. It's like Q corrupted his love for his daughter. Very tragic.

Oh, he's some sort of shady war criminal? So he's always been like this, and he always will be.

It's not much of a character arc at all, is my point. The real fun of Adam Soong depends on the audience to try to figure out his whole deal. Maybe he's Alton Soong from the 25th Century, or Data in disguise! Maybe he's Lore! Maybe he has an army of Kore clones in his basement! But the dirty little secret is that he really isn't that interesting at all. And by the time you find out what he really is, it's the end of the season, and they got away with wasting your time with a dud character.

The "PROJECT KHAN" folder is this cheap prize they give you at the end to reward you for sticking around this long. "Hey, you were right, he really is important because he invents Khan later." But it doesn't actually matter because this is his last appearance. It's just Brent Spiner holding a folder.

The same thing applies to Wesley Crusher showing up to recruit Kore into the Watcher/Traveler organization. I guess the idea here is that the Gary Seven people and the Travelers were in the same group? And now that Renee's Watcher is dead, they have a vacancy. But what makes Kore special? Like, Wesley had all these special talents and gifts. Kore spent her whole life indoors waiting for a cure for her genetic ailments. I mean, maybe she's a super-genius, but they never showed that. It just feels like they worked this in to cover for the fact that they never did much with Kore. "No, no, we meant to overlook Kore! That way you'd never see it coming when we... uh... uh... have her team up with Wesley Crusher! Wow!"

I mean, it's nice to see Wesley. I wasn't sure if he was in this series or not, so I can check off that box. I'm glad he's doing well. But it just doesn't matter. I guess they might still turn up in Season 3, but I doubt it.

So, once Q takes everyone back to their own time, we get back to the Borg crisis from the beginning of the season, and it turns out it's Jurati, and she set all this up to coordinate some big joint mission to save the galaxy from another space anomaly. It really doesn't mean anything, but they had to do some big feel-good thing to pay off the Borg. Jurati's Borg are good guy Borgs, I guess, and they request provisional Federation membership. I guess.

I think that's about all I wanted to go over. There's some interesting ideas in this, but the show is so plodding and slow that it never manages to land any of its best shots. Again, all I cared about was Q and Picard hugging. They could have done anything else to set up that moment, and it probably would have been better. Maye Q uses Picard's house as his own hospice, and Picard's stuck with him as a roommate for a while. Maybe he tries to take Picard on some goofy fantasy adventure but his heart just isn't into it, so Picard takes him out for drinks instead. Maybe they just give in to 30+ years of sexual tension and have dirty, nasty, old man sex for three episodes straight.

Oh, and Elnor's alive again. For all the difference it makes.

#mike watches picard #sheer fucking hubris #i like the candy cane stripes on the project khan file #like the shady organization that wrote the file wanted people to know it's hazardous #watch out for khan he's a flammable solid

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faulty-writes · 3 years ago

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This is a little different than most of my other works, but I'm trying to branch out and write for more of the secondary or minor characters. I actually adore the Todoroki family, especially Fuyumi and Natsuo. So I hope you guys enjoy this little appreciation piece featuring Natsuo who no doubt deserves more love considering he's a very interesting and complex character, at least in my opinion.

[ Natsuo is known as 'the nice guy' on campus despite also being recognized as a "Todoroki" and many knowing of the relation he holds to the number one hero, Endeavor. He's had plenty of experiences where people have used him because of this, but the latest one leaves him a tad heartbroken. What other choice does he have but to run to you? ]

The sound of his abnormally thick tears landing on the tiled flooring of the hallway faintly echoed as he continued on his way. Ignoring all the looks and obvious gossip that would come with the fact he was so shamelessly crying in the middle of a school day.

A sniffle came as Natsuo reached up and with some force, wiped his right eye with the end of his signature gray hoodie sleeve which he normally wore on campus. The very campus he had grown to love over the past year and the one Fuyumi had insisted he go to in order to study medical welfare.

It was funny, he could still hear her words echoing in his head, ‘Leave our family circumstances to me and go do what you want to pursue,’ and that he did. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that his sister offered to take the brunt of their family problems and encourage him to do what made him happy.

But at the same time, Natsuo hadn’t originally wanted to leave his sister or youngest brother behind. He didn’t trust their well-being with ‘Endeavor’ around, despite his mother having long since recovered from the mental and physical abuse the so-called "number one hero" put her through.

Since the death of his eldest brother, Touya. He couldn't shake this protective and anxiety-ridden feeling that had been slowly growing inside of him. He'd be damned if anything happened to his remaining siblings, even if it meant he'd experience more emotional trauma in the long run.

Much like today. College was supposed to be a fun time, and while Natsuo understood that some enjoyed ‘experimenting’ and partying rather than studying. He was never much of the party type and while he knew he was attracted to other genders, he never outwardly acted on it.

Knowing how his father treated his mother was the one thing that drove him to desire a true romantic relationship and that was what he thought he had. Unfortunately, there was a cruel reality that came with being the son of Endeavor, and while he should be used to people trying to get close to him when they found this out.

He never thought they would sink so low as to try and date him on the off-chance they'd get to meet the number one hero. His fingers sunk into the front of his hoodie, twisting the fabric as a soft ache coursed through his chest.

Which he could only describe as a broken heart and despite wanting to go back to his own room, bury his face into a pillow, and hide under his covers. There was one person he wanted, no needed, to see. It wasn’t his mother or sister, not even his youngest brother. It was you.

Strangely, since the start of his first year in college. He seemed to gravitate towards you, at first he believed it was only due to the fact that you were also studying something related to the medical field. But as your friendship continued and he got to spend more time with you, he realized that he genuinely enjoyed your company.

The fact he found himself telling you things, secrets that he wouldn’t have thought of sharing outside of his family was a pleasant surprise. Maybe you were just easy to talk to? He wasn’t sure, but he did know that unlike most.

You weren’t going to use him just because of his relation to Endeavor, though he knew you were interested in hero studies. There was no worry in his mind that you’d use him for some hero-related advantage.

Another sniffle came before he reached up to once more wipe away his tears, even if his effort was in vain considering more just came. He took a deep breath, trying to both collect and center himself. ‘Man, this backpack feels heavy,’ he thought as he clenched his jaw and focused his attention on the floor.

Counting the familiar shapes in the tile that he knew would eventually lead to your room. The logical reason for his backpack feeling so heavy was due to the fact it was filled to the brim with various textbooks and a few notebooks that were scribbled with his writing.

He could feel the slight bitter sting of frost beginning to grow on his tear-stained cheeks which he ignored for the moment. Still, he wiped his eyes once more before picking up his pace. He soon began to speedwalk which turned into a jog which eventually led him to frantically running and accidentally stumbling into your door.

Once more, he seemed to get stares from the passersby. But in a way, he couldn’t blame them. He wasn’t even sure how he looked slumped against another student's door with his arms stretched above his head and his hands closed into fists.

His forehead was pressed against your door and his tears continued to slowly fall. His eyebrows came down and for a moment, he wondered what he was doing before the door suddenly opened. “Hel-” your sentence came to a stop when the white-haired boy stumbled forward and your hands instantly grasped his arms.

Your stance stiffening as you unconsciously seemed determined to stop him from falling. One of your legs was bent back, and the other bent forward. An awkward silence filled the air before you heard the soft sound of something hitting the wooden floor of your room.

It reminded you of water and a few seconds later, Natsuo lifted his head. You instantly noticed those tears and felt his hands curl into the front of your shirt, funny you hadn’t noticed or felt the pressure of his hands there before.

But in a way it made sense, Natsuo was always very gentle. Even when handling the few people who volunteered to pretend to be "patients" during his medical welfare classes. In fact, it seemed he was downright cautious when it came to others.

Never necessarily wanting to cause trouble and sometimes acting rather shy unless you happened to bring up a topic he didn’t like. You had long since learned the reason why he preferred to keep the topic of ‘family’ out of conversations.

Yet, you wondered if Natsuo was crying because of something related to just that. But you knew you shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet. Still, you couldn’t help but look into those blue orbs of his. The look of hurt was clearly visible, not only in his eyes but also indicated by the way his face was twisted.

Then he leaned forward, allowing a soft whimper to escape in the process. Partly burying his face into the front of your shirt as he lifted his leg up. Then without warning, he slammed his foot against the floor. Which caused you to jump, but you didn’t dare release Natsuo.

Especially as his tears soaked into the fabric of your shirt, unlike most Natsuo's tears were always cold. You assumed it was due to his quirk, but before you could say anything the sound of Natsuo’s cracked and broken voice caught your attention.

“D-Damn it,” the stuttered words filled the air and you frowned, wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through that white snow-like hair of his before you glanced back up. Noticing a few people staring into your doorway, you honestly didn’t know why they were staring or why they weren’t minding their own business.

But you did know that something was clearly wrong with Natsuo and whatever that something was caused this reaction. You shot the bystanders a glare before focusing back on Natsuo. You opened your mouth to speak, but were interrupted by the sound of his voice once more.

“I...am so sick of this,” his words, of course only confused you. What was he sick of and how did it relate to his current state? You managed to straighten out your legs, however, Natsuo continued to cling to you.

His tears hadn’t ceased nor those soft almost desperately gasps for breath. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly said before he turned to look over his shoulder. His hands remained curled into the front of your shirt as he looked at the many people staring at the two of you.

Some seemed curious as to what was happening and others amused to see the almost grown man crying in the arms of his friend. With more strength than he intended, he once more lifted his foot and slammed your door shut.

The noise it created echoed through your room and though Natsuo felt guilty for having treated your door in such a manner, his chest was already aching profusely. When he turned back to face you, the fact he had small bits of ice underneath his eyes and on the skin of his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

Your hands left their position on Natsuo’s forearms to gently cup his face, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he was cold to the touch. You knew that was yet again another semi-harmless side effect due to his quirk, despite the fact you had never actually seen him use it.

Part of you wondered why that was. Still, you couldn’t help but allow your thumbs to run over those specs of ice stuck to his moist cold cheeks and the desire to get a warm hand towel to clean his face was strong.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to ask what happened first or calm him down enough so he would tell you with as little of a fight as possible. Your touch was welcomed as Natsuo reached up and laid one of his hands over yours.

“Do you...want to sit down?” you questioned and Natsuo looked momentarily confused before he glanced away as if he were thinking about something. Sometimes when he acted like this, it annoyed you. You knew how guilty Natsuo could feel over things that he either shouldn’t or weren’t even his fault.

He was here crying into your arms, but you knew somehow he'd make up a reason to feel guilty about it. ‘Well, that isn’t going to happen today,’ you thought as you released his face and reached down to take hold of one of his hands.

Even though they too were always cold, you couldn't help but find some odd sense of comfort when you were holding him by the hand. Despite the fact, Natsuo was significantly larger than you. But, you assumed that was only due to the fact that he physically took after his father.

The fact he went to the gym daily only added to that overall intimidating stature of his. Regardless, you squeezed his hand in reassurance as you guided him towards your bed. He made no move to resist your guidance and once you had him sitting down, you gently laid your hands on his shoulders.

Those tears were now single drops that slowly slid down his icy cheeks and you'd be lying if you stated it didn't hurt seeing Natsuo like this. You took a deep breath. “Stay here,” you instructed, “I’m going to get a warm towel, you have ice on your face,” Natsuo seemed rather surprised and reached up to touch his cheek.

Using his thumb to glide along the skin and sure enough, he could feel the smooth surface of the small patches of ice. “Oh…” he said before a sniffle came. “Sorry,” though most would know not to apologize for something beyond their control.

Still, he couldn’t help but fold his hands into his lap. Squeezing them between his thighs. His feet were nervously tapping against the floor, creating a rhythmic pattern and if one listened carefully enough, they’d recognize it was the pattern of a standard heartbeat.

In a way, it was amazing how much subconscious knowledge you could obtain. Natsuo failed to notice the rhythmic pattern, but you could hear it clear as day even from the bathroom where you proceeded to ring out the warm hand towel.

A soft groan escaped him, and his thighs were the only thing keeping his hands in place. Else he would be running them through his unusual spiky hair and possibly pulling it out. ‘What am I even doing here man?!’ he frantically thought.

‘Y/n...is always the person I run to, I keep bothering them but I’d rather be like this than…’ his jaw clenched when the thought of Endeavor entered his mind and a soft growl rumbled in his throat before he heard your footsteps which prompted him to raise his head.

You noticed he was looking at the wet towel you held with an expression only a curious and slightly confused child would make. “Mm,” once more he looked away, feeling the guilt continue to build as you sat down next to him and laughed.

"Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty again,” you stated, and not to your surprise, Natsuo turned his head to look at you. His tears seemed to be completely dry and you wondered if that was because he was here with you or that he simply overworked his tear ducts.

“Sorry,” he muttered, still focused on the towel you held and the small amount of steam that seeped from it. “I...get it's kind of crazy for me to keep running to you but-” you shook your head, quickly interrupting him.

“But nothing,” you replied as you leaned forward, “that’s what friends do and you and I have been friends since the start of our freshman year,” that had to count for something, right? You reached over, cupping one side of Natsuo’s face.

“Now stay still, I want to get that ice off your face, and then you can tell me what’s bothering you,” the words left your mouth almost like a friendly command. But like most of the time, Natsuo didn’t seem to take offense.

He simply nodded and gave you a look that you knew meant he understood. Very gently, you pressed the towel to his face. Applying some pressure to ensure the bits of ice chipped off and sure enough, you could see the clear cold pieces slowly begin to melt.

When you began to wipe his opposite cheek, you couldn’t help but raise the question. “Hey Natsuo,” you began, effectively catching his attention and the soft, “Hm?” he responded with. “I’ve never seen you actually use your quirk,” you pointed out.

“Is there a reason for that?” a gasp came when Natsuo suddenly jerked his head away from you. “Uh…” blinking once or twice. You lowered the wet towel to your lap and grasped onto it. Twisting the fabric between your fingers to allow the now lukewarm droplets of water to soak into the pajama bottoms you were wearing.

Maybe you crossed a line? Did this have anything to do with his family? As far as you knew, his mother possessed a rather powerful ice quirk. Was that the reason he never used it? You weren’t sure, but usually, when Natsuo acted in this closed-off manner it was related to his family.

“Sorry,” you said, “I didn’t mean to pry, I was just curious,” the explanation was simple and you hoped Natsuo would believe you. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh before bringing his hand up, running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine,” he replied, though you could tell his voice was a little strained before he turned to you. That’s when you saw the frown on his face and his eyes looked misted over as if he were going to cry again. You really didn’t want that.

“Natsuo are you-” though the answer was obvious, he wasn’t okay if he had come running to you in tears. But even so, Natsuo nodded. “Yeah…” he reached out, grasping the wet towel that you were previously holding before he got up.

You wanted to ask where he was going, but it was clear he was only heading to the bathroom. “It’s just…” you heard the wet plop of the towel landing in the sink before Natsuo walked back out and once more took his seat on your bed.

You reached out, laying your hand on his thigh. “You don’t have to tell me,” you offered with a kind smile, but Natsuo shook his head. “It’s fine,” he repeated yet again before allowing his hand to rest by his side.

“Big bro Touya and I used to play around with our quirks, but Touya was always so serious about his,” you watched as his expression grew dark and a clear hateful glance appeared in his eyes which seemed distant at the moment.

This was more than likely due to the fact that Natsuo was picturing his late brother alongside his father. “Uh…” you glanced down and watched as the hand that laid by Natsuo’s side began to curl into a fist, though you knew he would never actually raise that fist or cause harm to you.

It was just shocking how the subject of his family brought out this side in him, but you remained quiet and continued to listen. “Because of that...bastard and I hated seeing Touya like that!” he suddenly exclaimed, leaning forward as his fists began to tremble, and without much thinking, you laid your hand on his back.

"Natsuo…” you said, hoping your voice would bring him back out of the hateful moment he was in. His jaw was clenched and a shiver ran up your spine when you felt Natsuo’s trembling hand take a grip on your upper arm.

But there was still that familiar gentleness to it which indicated to you that even when Natsuo was temporarily blinded by this hatred, he was still aware of his surroundings and those that were important to him.

This was only confirmed when he lifted his head to look at you with a smile, though it was small. It was still present and seemed to put you at ease for the moment. “I’m okay but…” he once more turned away from you and a sigh escaped him.

“I convinced big bro to have fun with our quirks instead of doing what the old man wanted him to, but since he...died. I...I couldn’t bring myself to use my quirk again and I’m sure sis feels that way too,” your frown deepened, ah so that’s why.

Maybe he fears he’ll lose the memory of his elder brother if he were to use his quirk again? “What else happened?” Natsuo looked back at you, confused for a brief moment before, “Oh...right,” he said as if he had almost forgotten he ran to you in broad daylight with tears streaming down his face.

He turned, bending down to slip his shoes off before he slid his backpack onto the floor. Then he proceeded to climb onto the bed or rather proceeded to crawl over to your pillows and plop himself down.

Being surrounded by your familiar scent eased him as did the fact he could stretch both his arms and legs out. You looked at him all sprawled out and comfortable. ‘Well...I guess if it makes him feel better,’ you thought as you watched Natsuo stare at the ceiling.

His face twisting with a variety of emotions that made you wonder just what caused him to cry in the first place. He didn’t deserve that, or at least not in your opinion. “She broke up with me,” he suddenly said, his voice somewhat quick and you barely understood what he said.

“Who?” you questioned as you got onto your knees and pressed your hands into the mattress, looming over Natsuo much like how a dog or loyal companion would. "My girlfriend…” he muttered as he once again looked to the side, you assumed it was an attempt to look away from your gaze which was a mess of confusion.

“Why did she break up with you?” It was said that getting your heart broken was hard to handle, but there had to be more behind this. You sat on your knees, placing your hand on your hip as you looked down at Natsuo who slowly turned his gaze back to you but seemed to avert it just as quickly.

Despite his overall twisted expression that laid somewhere between sad and angry, you also noticed the faint pink tint to his cheeks. Was that from anger or embarrassment? You honestly couldn’t tell. But Natsuo normally didn’t get embarrassed around you and you knew he knew he could tell you anything.

‘It must be from anger,’ you concluded as you continued to wait patiently for his answer. “I’m so tired of it,” he said in a soft voice which prompted you to lean closer. “Tired of it?” you repeated, clearly not understanding where that was coming from.

“I’m sick of being recognized just because of the old man's last name!” he exclaimed once more, though his voice wasn’t raised too high. It still caused you to jolt back, then again you should have realized this whole thing had something to do with his family.

Natsuo turned to you and impatiently pressed his hands against the mattress so he could sit up. His jaw was clenched again and his eyebrows slit in anger and the way he kept his eyes locked on you made you feel a little uncomfortable despite the fact you knew his anger wasn’t directed at you.

Then a sigh came and Natsuo’s head dropped. You saw this often when he was trying to collect or calm himself down. It honestly worried you that he was always going between emotions, trying to keep himself in check for the sake of others.

His eyes were closed, but when he opened them once more you could see the absence of anger. “I wanted to study medical welfare to actually help people…” he confessed as he brought his legs up to his chest and you watched as he wrapped his arms around them.

Those long sleeves of his hood concealing the contraction of his muscles and biceps. He seemed to stare off into the distance once more. “I wanted to make a difference in the world so the name Todoroki could actually mean something to me, unlike the tie it has to that bastard,” he hissed and like a switch, that anger was back.

You could even hear that soft rumbling of a growl threatening to admit from his throat. “I don’t want to be recognized as a Todoroki just because of him!” you opened your mouth to speak, but all thoughts and actions escaped you when Natsuo turned to look at you.

Once more sporting that angry expression which was terrifying in its own way. But then, it slowly began to fade into sadness and he lowered his arms. Allowing his hands to fall back onto the mattress, you couldn’t help but glance down when you felt his fingers brush against yours before you looked back up.

“I don’t want people trying to get close to me because of him either,” Natsuo stated and you gasped when you felt his cold hand engulf yours, taking firm grip as if he was silently gesturing to you that he needed some form of physical comfort.

“But that’s exactly what she did,” you felt that hand begin to tremble and you quickly gave it a reassuring squeeze. “She used you to get to your father?” you questioned, a little confused but still showing an effort that you wanted to get the story correct.

Natsuo nodded. “She’s an inspiring hero I guess," he said with a shrug, "and wanted to get close to me so she could have the chance to speak to my father,” his tone sounded like he had given up as he tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.

That ache in his chest returned, but somehow your touch prevented it from growing any further. “Guess I was more interested in caring for her that I didn’t see it,” he commented before tilting his head back down. “Just tired of it,” he repeated.

"I wouldn’t introduce my father to anyone I’m with...they deserve better than to be exposed to him!” you could imagine that’s how the rest of his story went then. His ex-girlfriend trying to pressure him into introducing her to Endeavor only for Natsuo to express his concern and reasons for why he couldn’t.

Then from there she must have gotten angry and confessed the truth. The whole situation was unfair and you could feel your own anger brewing, using people was one thing. But using them for your own personal benefit, pretending to love them?

That wasn’t exactly forgivable in your book. No wonder he was crying. “I’m…” would saying you’re sorry even do anything? You knew Natsuo wouldn’t take offense, but it seemed unfitting for the current situation. Instead, you found yourself leaning over.

Releasing his hand in order to wrap your arms around him, nuzzling your head against his shoulder as you embraced him. Natsuo while not overly shocked at your friendly gesture, crossed his legs and wrapped his arms around your waist before pulling you even closer.

Though your back slightly hurt, you didn’t mind. Natsuo, while not completely touch-starved, still melted into anyone’s affection. You felt his stiff body finally relax and the cool touch of his cheek against your ear as he nuzzled the side of your head.

“Thank you,” he whispered, despite the fact, there was no one else around to hear you two. “I know I keep bothering you whenever-” you reached up to tug on the back of his hair.

“You’re not a bother,” you said in a stern tone, “and you should be happy that girl is now your ex, you didn’t deserve what she put you through,” your arms tightened around him just before you pulled back and grasped his shoulders.

Making sure he was looking at you before you continued to speak, “No one deserves that, you’re a wonderful person Natsuo and I know there are others that won’t care that you’re a Todoroki or that will help you make it into a name you can be proud of,” you assured him and watched as the faintest expression of hope washed over his face.

Just that alone meant the world to you and while you knew Natsuo didn’t need any protection, you still wanted to try your best to be there for him. “Come on,” you insisted as you crawled over him in order to reach the opposite side of your bed.

Though Natsuo took up most of the space, you managed to lay down and offered him your hand. That smile of his seemed to grow and as expected, he gently grasped onto your hand as he laid down by your side.

“You can stay here if you want, it’s still daylight and I don’t have any more classes for today,” you insisted and hoped he’d take the bait because you didn’t exactly trust he wouldn’t get emotional again later.

Natsuo always seemed to overthink things and maybe that’s where his sense of guilt came from. “Hm?” he glanced away and you were quick to speak. Taking a firm grip of his hand, you slipped your fingers between his and gave him a stern expression.

“Don’t let your guilt tell you that you’re going to be a bother, I want you to stay,” your words were accompanied with another reassuring squeeze, and once more his gaze was directed back on you.“...Okay,” he replied, you smiled and turned your attention to the ceiling.

Allowing your intertwined hands to remain nestled between you. Your mind was free of any thoughts, unlike Natsuo who was debating how he could even thank you for everything you did for him. Just listening to him was enough, but you went the extra step to dry his tears and invited him to stay for however long he wanted.

Was it that you knew he found comfort in you, your scent, your presence? Is there any way he could express his gratitude? Suddenly his own words came back, echoing like thunder inside his head. ‘I...couldn’t bring myself to use my quirk again,’ he held his breath and slowly lifted his free hand, turning it so he could gaze at his palm.

The sound of his and Touya’s laughter now softly echoed alongside his words. ‘It’s been years,’ he thought before he turned to glance at you, but ended up flinching when he realized you were already looking at him.

“Are you okay?” you questioned, now that everything was off his chest he should be, right? Then again, you have been wrong before. Natsuo almost seemed to be in a trace, though his eyes hadn’t left yours and his hand remained lifted in the air.

‘Would I even know how to control it? I can’t risk hurting Y/n but if this proves how thankful I am to them then…’ he finally seemed to make a choice and he slowly turned on his side causing the bed to shake along with his movements.

“Can I see your other hand for a moment?” he questioned, knowing that if anything did happen to go wrong with his quirk that he could use the basic knowledge he learned from his medical welfare classes to hopefully undo any damage.

“Hm?” you seemed a tad confused by his request and why he was holding his hand up, but once more you reminded yourself that Natsuo had no ill intentions. You maneuvered yourself on your side much like him and slowly held your free hand out.

Natsuo smiled and carefully connected your fingertips, then he took a deep breath. Channeling his long-forgotten quirk to the center of his palm, though he could feel the cold rush. It came as a surprise to you. In fact, the sudden drastic drop in temperature coming from Natsuo's hand was an utter shock.

Even knowing quirks existed, this almost seemed impossible. “N-Natsuo?” you worried something was very wrong when you felt it, the cold rough texture of tiny ice crystals growing across your skin. You almost wanted to pull away as there came a slight pulsing pain with the bitter coldness that was Natsuo's quirk.

But instead, you looked to your hand, your jaw was clasped closed and your eyes were wide. Too focused on those ice crystals that continued to grow and slowly frost over the top of your fingers. You stared in amazement.

“I...b-but you…” your words were all jumbled together and you almost missed the fact that Natsuo’s palm was covered in a thick lining of ice and how red the skin surrounding it was. Still, even if this brought him some minor discomfort.

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched your reaction, the small feeling of heartache numb for the moment and replaced with a small dose of happiness. Partly due to you and partly because he was relieved he could in fact control his quirk even after years of refusing to use it.

“I just wanted to say thank you for being there for me,” he stated and though still astonished, you glanced back at him. Even though the small mishaps would more than likely continue to happen as well as people that would attempt to use him for their own personal benefits. You somehow knew he was going to be just fine.

#natsuo x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki natsuo

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americxn · 4 years ago

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congratulations on 240 you deserve millions ♡ ! i was wondering if i could request please one where kit insists on teaching the reader self-defense given to the "dangers of the outside" but they end up wrestling playful and maybe things get a little spicy-smutty? it's totally okay if not and thank u so much for your writing ♡

wordcount: 2k warnings: smut @kitwalkerangel I hope this is okay ! tysm for requesting and I’m sorry it took me a while to get this done

“I wanna teach you something.” Kit spoke from behind where you lay face-down on your shared bed, your boredom having reduced you to a groaning lump atop the covers. You perked up instantly, pushing yourself up to your knees and turning to stare at Kit eagerly, silently urging him to go on. “I had a weird dream last night.” He began, taking a step into the room. “Well, kinda a nightmare actually.” He muttered thoughtfully, causing you to to frown. You thought he had slept peacefully as he always did. “No, it’s fine,” he hurried on at the concern on your face. “I just wanted to... I don’t know this will probably sound weird.” He finished quietly, his hand lifting to rub the back of his neck as his cheeks tinged slightly pink. “Kit,” you began, crawling to the edge of the bed and hopping off it. “I hope you realise that there really isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for you, no matter how ‘weird’ or stupid it is.” He looked at you as you approached him eagerly. “And besides, I’m bored shitless. Please give me something to do.” You reached for his hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “Okay,” he said with a wry smile, dragging you by the hand out of the room and down the hall.

Twenty minutes later, you stood in the middle of your living room floor with your feet braced apart and your hands raised in fists before your face, Kit mirroring your stance. Kit had claimed that he wanted to teach you some self-defence so that you could protect yourself against the ‘dangers of the outside world’. He had hurriedly explained to you that it wasn’t just because of the whole alien thing; he was genuinely terrified of the thought of any harm befalling you, especially after witnessing firsthand at Briarcliff just how cruel and monstrous some people could be. Your heart had ached at the genuine fear on his face as he explained this to you, so of course you agreed to oblige him. “So, you always wanna keep one arm raised to block any punches. Never leave your face, or anywhere for that matter, unguarded.” You nodded, watching as he demonstrated how to throw a strong punch whilst keeping one arm raised to shield your face. “And where did you learn all this from, Mr. Walker?” You said in slight awe, impressed by his knowledge of self-defence. “Well, I’ve gotten into a few fights in my time.” He replied with a playful wink. “Oh, of course.” You nodded, stepping forwards and raising your arms, throwing a few over-exaggerated punches his way. His giggled, one of his hands shooting out to grasp your wrist as you threw another weak punch into the air. You gasped as he pulled you to him by your wrist, his other hand coming to the small of your back to hold your body to his. “Get me off.” He whispered, his nose almost touching yours. You tried to pull away, squirming around in an attempt to shake his grip from you. He chuckled lightly, his breath tickling your face. You pulled away with renewed vigour at his amusement, but his grip was just too strong. You sighed, meeting his intense gaze. “Are you gonna teach me how to get you off, or...?” You trailed off as Kit grinned at you, shaking his head slowly. “No. I like having you this close to me.” You swallowed as his voice dropped an octave, his eyes flicking to you lips. You carefully shifted your weight as you blinked at Kit, quietly moving your foot to plant it behind his own, your ankle pressing against his. You gave his chest a hard shove, Kit trying to step back to regain his balance, but when his foot met yours he teetered, falling to the floor and taking you with him. You laughed triumphantly, using his chest to push yourself up so that you were sat upright, straddling his hips. His hand stayed pressed against your lower back as the corners of his mouth curved upwards. “Impressive.” He commented, causing you to grin brightly down at him. “Thank you. I would say that I learnt from the best but you didn’t really teach me anything.” You teased, watching gleefully as Kit’s eyebrows shot up. In an instant, Kit sat up suddenly against you, the world tilting as he moved his hips, his hands coming to support your fall as he flipped you over. Your smirk was quickly replaced by a scowl as Kit settled his weight carefully onto you. “Asshole.” You grunted, a smile hidden in your tone. Your legs rose up, your knees pressing into Kit’s back in a vain attempt to push him off. He reached for your face, unfazed by your efforts, his fingertips cold as he brushed the hair that had fallen onto your forehead back into place. His eyes were soft as he giggled down at your hopeless expression. “I thought you were supposed to be teaching me?” You huffed, your hands slamming slightly into his chest. “Okay. Plant your feet on the floor.” You did as he instructed. “Then lift your hips up suddenly, as far up as they can go.” Following his instruction, you thrusted your hips up quickly, watching as Kit was thrown slightly off your body. But it only took him a second to regain his balance and settle himself back onto you again. "See?” He said. You blinked at him. “Yeah, but I didn’t actually get you off though.” “No, but if you can disable them, you would probably be able to flip them off.” At your thoughtful nod, he leant forwards, you going still as his fingers gently traced the shell of your ear. “Just a tip,” he began, his finger looping over the top of your ear. “An ear is actually kinda easy to rip off.” He stated nonchalantly. You shuddered as he pulled down on your ear slightly in emphasis. “If you can get your finger hooked over someone’s ear, all you’ve got to do pull down on it suddenly. Pull hard enough and it’ll tear.” “Ew.” You scrunched your nose up in disgust, though you tucked that piece of information into the corner of your mind, just in case. Kit threw one of his legs off you, his weight lifting from you as he rolled off your body. You took your chance, your arms flinging around his neck as you sat up abruptly. The two of you clumsily wrestled with one another and you were finally able to push Kit back down again with a laugh. He looked up at you, blinking in question. You giggled. “And I didn’t even have to rip your ear off.” You said triumphantly. “I was getting off you anyway-” You cut him off by placing your finger on his lips. Kit’s head fell back onto the floor beneath him in exasperation as you leant forwards, your hands braced on his chest. You closed the distance between your faces, your lips meeting his momentarily. Kit lifted his head slightly for you as you hummed happily onto his mouth, his hands snaking onto your hips. You pulled away as he tried to deepen the kiss, causing him to scowl. “I’m on top.” You insisted, pushing his head lightly by the forehead so that it was once again rested on the floor. “So?” He questioned, his voice turning suddenly idle as his hands roved from your hips to your lower back, his fingertips cold as they ventured under the back of your shirt, his nails scraping against your skin tantalisingly. “I don’t need to be on top of you to be in control.” He explained lowly. You opened you mouth to question him further when his hips rolled once beneath you, his body lifting in just the right spot and rubbing against you. The words fell from your lips at that single electrifying touch, a low groan working its way up from inside you instead. Kit smirked beneath you, his hands abandoning your back and instead coming to clasp your thighs. His grip was strong as he pushed you slightly further down his body, his arms flexing and his semi-hardened dick eager to brush against you once more. Pulling you forward slightly, his hands held firmly onto your thighs as he used your body to rub against him, your own excitement mounting each time he pushed you back over his steadily hardening cock. It didn’t take long before you began to timidly recuperate the action, moving softly against him as he lazily pushed and pulled you over him, the rough material of his pants tormenting you as it scraped against the softness of your centre again and again. “God,” he mumbled, his voice steady as he repeated his ministrations once more. “I can feel how wet and hot you are even through my pants.” You hummed in agreement, your head tipping back and your fingers weaving into the fabric of the shirt on his chest. “Are you gonna help me out with that?” You questioned, your voice slightly shaky as he stopped moving beneath you. “Well,” he began in contemplation. “I think you’ve done well today. So yes.” You groaned at his words, his hands wrapping underneath your thighs and tapping them. You did as he silently ordered, shifting forwards onto your knees and lifting you ass off Kit’s hips. The sudden loss of contact was almost painful but you didn’t utter a sound as Kit shimmied his body beneath you, maneuvering himself quickly so that his face was lined up with your clothed pussy. You ached to lower yourself to his face but you didn’t dare move as his hands slowly began to trace from your ankles, up your calves and to your thighs, scared that he would suddenly change his mind and leave you aching for him. You exhaled as his fingers suddenly found the material covering your pussy, deftly moving both your pajama shorts and panties aside. The cool air as Kit finally exposed your centre made you shudder. He blew softly onto you, watching intently as his simple action coaxed even more wetness to gather and glisten on your folds an inch from his lips. At your desperate wiggle of your hips, Kit connected his tongue to your slit, drawing a leisurely line from you opening to your clit. His touch was painfully light and you strained against your own want to collapse fully onto his face and deepen his touch. He repeated this simple motion again and again until your hissed his name in desperation. His responding chuckle rumbled through you and he finally dove fully into pleasing you, his nose pressing into your wetness as he worked his tongue thoroughly, dipping inside of you and roving around your folds with such vigour that your knees began to tremble. Your hands found his hair, your fingers gripping onto the soft strands and pulling persistently in a way that made Kit groan against you. You pulled more harshly in an attempt to spur him into exploring you deeper, a series of high-pitched gasps and grunts falling from your mouth in quick succession as the familiar ball of warmth began to grow in your abdomen. Suddenly, Kit’s tongue left your pussy and you were thrown to the side with a grunt. The world flipped once more and you blinked at the ceiling as Kit shuffled over to you, trying to make coherent sense of what was happening in the sudden loss of pleasure, Kit’s weight once again settling onto your hips. His face appeared above your, a little smile of his lips, your wetness shining on his chin. You threw your head back with a groan, trying to wiggle your hips in order to gain some friction from his body above yours, desperate for release. “Kit.” You whined in frustration, meeting his self-satisfied gaze. “Throw me off again, and I’ll consider letting you cum.”

#american horror story #ahs #ahs asylum #ahs season 2 #kit walker #kit x reader #smut #evan peters #evan peter ahs #ask

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arcadejohn127-9 · 4 years ago

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How would the demon brothers [+ undatebles if you can no biggie tho if not] be with an MC who is plus sized and is super insecure about it? Like they try to get skinnier but can't and they get upset about it or get teased by other demons for being bigger. Side note: your writings are INCREDIBLE. Just like you 🤗💜🎆⭐

Thank you for the request and the compliment! You're too kind!

Oof weight lose and being bullied for my size is something I know abit too well, I always feel sad when I see plus sized people Insecure about their weight

I'm all for people wanting to lose weight to be healthy or just wanting change but when it stems from self hated and an unhealthy mindset - I just can't stand it

Demon brother's with a plus sized MC who's insecure

Warning: angst with fluff

Lucifer:

He isn't a man who's to shy away from being rude and blunt to people

He wouldn't date someone for pity or lie

When he learned you were trying to loose weight

He and the other brothers all treated it how Asmo's diets go, he tries and fails and everyone makes no real effort to not tempt him with food

When he found you crying in your bedroom however

"What's the matter? You're crying, what has upset you?"

"You." Was all you said, trying to calm yourself

He, of course, wanted to know what he did

He kept pestering you until you finally snapped at him

"You're treating my wants like it's a joke! I want to lose weight and none of you are being supportive of it! Why can't you just let me do something for myself?!"

He was taken back

He sat beside you, taking your hand in his

"Why do you want to lose weight? This plan has come rather unexpectedly."

"Because I'm too big! Everyone thinks so! No matter what I do all nothing works! Don't you think I'm ugly?"

"Since when did being big equate to being ugly? Are your height makes you ugly?"

"my height...? What does that-"

"Weight isn't something we can always change like our height, some people just can't change their physical appearance, it can only happen naturally and even then it may be a small amount gained or lost."

"I think I get what you mean."

"I hate admiting this but- I'm not good at this kind of thing but I think you look wonderful, if you really wish to go on a diet I'll support you but it needs to come from a healthy and non destructive mindset."

He poked. your forehead before kissing your hand

Mammon:

"Mammon? Don't you get embarassed when you're out with me."

"You are pretty embarassing sometimes."

He wasn't pay too much attention, not catching up on your tone

"Oh.....I see....maybe I shouldn't come out with you tonight."

You already didn't want to go out, the outfit Mammon got you - whilst it looked expensive - was tight on you

"HUH?! now what's this all about? You trying to quit on the great mammon?!"

"Well- I'm much bigger than the demons you hang around with, aren't you ashamed? They're way more attractive than-"

He rushed to your side, gripping your arms

"Don't even finish that sentence, ya hear?! Who told you - you didn't look fucking fantastic?! No one talks to my baby like that!"

"But it's true-"

"I swear on Goldie that isn't true! You are the most stunning jewel I've seen, I'm so lucky to be with someone that looks like you! You're personality is already top notch - your body is like a shiny bonus I don't think I deserve!"

He pulled you into a hug, holding you like you were the most valuable thing to him

"You're gorgeous, just tell me who's been bullying you and I'll make sure they know their place, I never want you to feel like that."

Levithan:

Levi was showing off this cast of anime style chatacters from the game he was playing

All of them were so thin and muscular

Everyone had the perfect curve and ideal bodies

"We should cosplay these characters! Don't worry, you don't need to know everything about them - I think you'd really pull off this one, you two already have the same personality."

You looked down at yourself and then back at the Character

You frowned, clutching your stomach

"Really....? But they're so- well look at me!"

He looked at you, raising a brow as he tried to find what you were getting at

"They're a warrior who saved the universe with a knife, it's not supposed to be realistic-"

"I'm talking about my shape, levithan! I'm fat! I'm disgusting! They're built like a god!"

"YOU'RE built like a god! There's plenty of Gods from your worlds stories that are shaped like you! What's the issue?"

"you didn't even deny I was disgusting, those demons were right-"

"What demons?! Are you seriously letting some normies tell you you're gross? What do they know? I'm the luckiest demon alive to be with you and those demons can choke on salt water - you point them out and I'll get my army on them!"

"you really think that? You wouldn't like more if I looked more like your smile chatacters?"

"Media is based of toxic media where they focus on only one type of beauty standard, it's a problem within the game world that they don't add plus sized chatacters."

"i- yeah I guess so....I didn't expect you to really care about that."

"of course I care!"

You both sat in silence, you were processing his words and leaned against his shoulder

"Do you still want to cosplay together?"

You paused before nodding

You both went through the game he's playing, whenever the overly vain chatacter came out levithan would argue with them

Claiming you to be the most gorgeous being in the world not them

Satan:

"I heard some rumours today, have demons been bothering you about your weight?"

You froze as Satan closed his book, shifting in the seat

You stepped back, avoiding eye contact, regretting coming to your room instead of helping mammon with some silly plan

"No...there's been no issue."

"Oh? Then why is there laxatives and diet guides in your school bag? You know I don't like it when you lie to me especially if it means you could be putting your body at risk."

You noticed your bag beside his feet

You immediately grew frustrated as you knew you were being called out

"Why did you go through my bag?! That's my own bussiness-"

"you said I could get my textbooks back, I found them in your bag - I'm sorry I went through your stuff but this isn't fine! You're going to force your body to push itself unnaturally."

"I just- i just want to get thinner, no matter how many times I try it doesn't work! I'm tired of seeing myself in the mirror and people telling me that you don't actually love me-"

"Some people just don't have it easy when it comes to weight lose, going on a diet isn't the best - I can go on cooking duty more often and make sure you have healthier meals."

He was at your side now, stroking your face

"Do you love me....? Truely?"

"of course I do, I've never loved anyone as much as I love you - you make me feel things I never thought i would, your size is the last of my concerns, I'm just scared you're going to hurt yourself."

You nodded, tearing up as you let him hold you closer

You tried to apologize but he silenced you, telling you that your emotions are valid

Asmodeus:

"Darling~! Let's take a bath together, I just got a new bath bomb and some soaps!"

He shook the mini basket filled with bath product's

"really...? Are you sure you want to do that, I'm not sure, I feel really bloated today-"

You were desperate to avoid getting naked Infront of him

Every once and a while he would ask to take a bath together, he respects your discomfort but wants to keep the offer open

"Oh, that's no issue~ we can have some tea Barbatos gave me, it's great for bloating!"

"why do you wanna see me naked so much? I'm not anything to see - wouldn't you be uncomfortable?"

"Uncomfortable? Why would I feel that?"

"In not the smallest person around-"

"Means you got more to love! I love your body!"

"But you're so gorgeous and slender, why would you ever love my body?"

He couldn't understand your feelings; confused on how you could see yourself in a negative light

"because I love you more than myself, I'm still the most special demon around but you're just something else, something I could never stop adoring!"

Beezlebub:

"Do you want to go eat with me? hell's kitchen is having a party."

Beel peered into your room, showing the hell's kitchen site

"I'm not sure about that, I've been trying to cut down on my eating."

"what? Why? Are you sick?"

He immediately got concerned, shuffling over to you

He placed the back of his hand on your forehead

"No- I'm not sick, I just think I should loose some weight."

"oh....then you can still go eat with me, I'll just eat more of your portions."

"you don't have any issue with me losing weight?"

Your insecurities started to chew at you

You weren't really sure what you wanted; you wanted him to be cruel and straight forward about hating your body

It would make your feelings feel more grounded

But you couldn't bare it if he didn't like your body

"It's your choice - should I be concerned?"

"no way! It would be for the best anyway, right? Atleast then I'll look better-"

"What does your weight have you to do with your looks? I think you look fine."

"you don't think I'm too big? Wouldn't you prefer someone more petite? I know you like small things-"

"I like you, I don't see any issue with your body."

It did feel a little ridiculous to think the avatar of gluttony would be bothered by your size but you still couldn't help but feel worried

He suddenly picked you up, kissing your cheek

"I can hold you in my arms just fine, your size will never stop me from liking you, I think you're beautiful."

Belphegor:

He was laying on your thigh's, watching a video comp of people falling over and getting hurt

"Should I loose weight?"

His phone was suddenly dropped on his stomach, staring up at with you surprise

"Why do you ask? Besides, it's not my decision to make - it's your body."

"yeah but wouldn't you prefer it if I was, ya know, thinner?"

He looked at you as if you just said something stupid

Adjusting his position snuggled against your thigh's

"Why would I prefer that? You wouldn't be as comfy."

"is that all you care about? If I'm comfy? Would you be upset if I did lose weight?"

"No, because I love cuddling you so I don't care about your size but I like you the way you are."

"it can't be that simple, there's no way you just like me when I look like this."

"I'm not sure why you're thinking of it like it's complicated maths, I like you- no I love you and very happy with the way you are."

You wanted to argue, trying to find a way to figure out how he's wrong

But you couldn't

"You're my favourite person in this house - don't tell Beel - I wouldn't trade you for the world."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #gamingclubpresident #obey me mammon #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me beezlebub #obey me satan #obey me levithan #obey me luficer #obey me belphegor #obey me imagine #angst #cw: body image #cw: fatphobia #cw: angst #obey me x you #obey me x mc

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geordiewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Lover │Harry Potter

A/N: I adored this request and although it is extremely short, I had a really fun time writing it and I think it is very sweet and fluffy as you wanted! I was overall really pleased. Based on Lover by Taylor Swift, as even though it isn’t directly related, it just reminded me of it and I think it fits the romantic vibe. :) Also I started a taglist, drop me a message if you’d like to be on it!

Summary: When Y/N finds herself sick with the muggle flu, her boyfriend Harry is right by her side to get through it with hot drinks and cough sweets.

Warnings: mentions of coughing, mentions of blood, illness and disease, mentions of the flu, swearing.

“I’m not bloody sick.” Y/N says adamantly, ignoring the harsh scratch in the back of her dry throat as she speaks. Beads of a clammy, cold sweat cling to her forehead and inch down her face, which is paler than her boyfriend - Harry - has ever seen it, and yet she insists she is fit to go to work.

“Y/N, come on. You’re clearly sick.” Harry begs, although it’s hopeless. Unfortunately, Y/N is as stubborn as she is beautiful in his eyes, and his efforts are likely to be in vain. Y/N folds her arms tightly across her chest as she shuffles over to their kitchen, thinking maybe an early morning coffee brew would help her dry throat and consequential fever. “You’re clearly ill, just stay at home with me today. It’s my day off anyway.”

Y/N tips the coffee down her throat, wincing as it scalds her oesophagus on the way down. “Well actually, darling, I feel a lot better now-!” She tries to argue, grabbing her briefcase and stepping towards the front door when Harry stands in the way. “Harry!”

“Y/N!” He childishly repeats back at her.

“Are you going to move so that I can go to work?” Y/N begins, but she is soon interrupted by a fit of violent coughing. Taking the opportunity to put his arm over her shoulders and lead her to the sofa, Harry smiles sympathetically.

“You need to stay home. I’ll send a letter to your work explaining everything.” Harry shouts, rushing to the kitchen to grab a cup of wildflower tea for his girlfriend.

Albeit with some reluctance, Y/N takes a tentative sip of the tea and a small smile creeps onto her face. Warmth seeps from the tea into her tired bones, filling her with a sense of comfort and easing her sore throat. “Fine. I’ll stay home for today. Thank you for the tea, darling.”

“Of course love, anything for you.” Harry mumbles as he sits down on the sofa next to her, leaning in to kiss her when she puts a hand on his chest to slightly push him away.

“You’ll get sick if you kiss me.” She mutters pathetically, consequentially shocked when Harry laughs before pressing his lips against hers anyway, ignoring her worried sentiment.

At first, Y/N is surprised by the gesture. Even years on into their relationship, she is still taken aback by the uncontrollable flurry of butterflies something as simple as kissing Harry causes. His lips fit perfectly with her own, moving in sync in a way she only imagines he could. Kissing Harry was like melted chocolate: devious and rich and she knew nothing else would ever be quite as decadent. Harry pulled away with a grin, pressing the mug of tea back into her hands.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me staying in your apartment so long? I haven’t been back to mine in ages.” Y/N asks honestly. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t slept in Harry’s bed without him by her side.

Harry paused before shaking his head softly. “Why don’t you move in then?”

“What?” Y/N stutters, unable to form a coherent sentence. Although the pair had been dating for years, they were both rather afraid of commitment after the war. People had lost so much, so if they didn’t commit, then perhaps they’d have less to lose. But the war is long past, and that excuse didn’t really make sense anymore.

“Think about it. We could leave the Christmas lights up until January... let our friends crash in the living room. Anything we wanted.” Harry explains calmly. Even though most of the time Harry is a typically nervous person, something in Y/N has always made him feel confident.

“Anything we wanted.” She repeats back to him, Y/E/C eyes gleaming in the dim light of their living room.

“Is that a yes?”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Always.”

A/N: If you request something, I will always tag you if I can!

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @lia00xx

#harry potter #harry potter fics #harry potter fluff #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x yn #harry potter x y/n #harry james potter #harry potter fanfic #golden trio era #golden trio era fics #harry x female reader #harry potter story #harry potter one shot #nancy writes

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anburwell · 4 years ago

Text

Kingdom Come

okay this is the start of a fantasy story me and my friend wrote together. BTS slander on this page is welcomed. no, i don’t care if armies send me death threats, it’s welcomed actually.

Chapter One

“Cordelia, Seungkwan!” Hollis called behind her, “keep up!” she laughed. Hollis wasn’t even sure if they could hear her as she rode her horse at full speed back home. She liked feeling the wind blow through her hair, making her feel like she could fly. Soon enough Hollis rode her horse through the entrance, getting multiple dirty looks from villagers who had to dodge to escape getting hit by her. Hollis chuckled as she stopped in front of the stables, and hopped down to walk him back inside. She turned when she heard the sound of pounding hooves coming towards her, she turned with a smile on her face.

“Took you two long enough,” Hollis teased. The other two just looked at each other flatly before hopping down as well, and walked their horses to the stables each belonged to. Seungkwan huffed, “sorry we didn’t want to run over any of your subjects,” he pointed out sarcastically, “your majesty.” Hollis chuckled and petted her horse Cadifor, “I swear I thought you two were behind me.” Again Cordelia and Seungkwan looked at each other, “that’s strange,” Cordelia began, “not once did you look back to see.” Hollis locked the gate and started walking inside, but paused to turn, “are we going to walk in together or do I have to wait again?” she teased, motioning them to follow. Cordelia just mocks her as they walk.

Hollis, Cordelia, and Seungkwan walked through the kitchen, even though the maids and cooks have told her time and time again not to do that anymore. Cordelia tried to stop her from taking an apple from the bowl, but the effort was in vain. Hollis laughed as she ran up the stairs leading out of the kitchen, followed by the other two apologizing for her. Hollis threw the doors of the dining room open before the guards could for her. Again Cordelia apologized. The candles were the brightest thing in the dining room, fitting for a kingdom home to the deity of midnight. The chairs were all the color of coals, and the paintings weren’t much lighter, the gold fixtures still a dark tarnished shade. It may seem off to some, but for her it felt like home. Her family, excluding two of her brothers, already sat at the table. Cordelia and Seungkwan sat on either side of her. Her father and her brothers were deep in conversation about something.

“Ros,” Ronan began, “did I or did I not disarm one of the knights earlier in the week? Tell father, you were there.” Hollis raised an eyebrow while drinking her wine, then smirked before looking at her father, “oh yes,” she began, trying to be serious, “only after one of the servant girls walked in and asked to speak to him.” Ronan opened his mouth to defend himself, but couldn’t over her father’s loud laughter. The dining room doors opened again and Moddie came in with letters on a tray for Hollis’s mother, “thank you Moddie,” she stated. Moddie bowed before walking out again. “You’ll never guess what we did today,” Hollis began towards her dad and brothers. The other two had walked in after Moddie.

Her father looked up, “what was that dear?” her brothers looked a little interested but not a lot. She smiled, “I practiced archery today,” she began. Her mother looked up slightly from the letters. Her brother Niall noticed and pursed his lips, “some of the knights and watchers were out training today and I joined them. I am turning out to be pretty good.” Her father gave her a bright smile, “well that’s lovely, we might have to get you your own now.” Her mother looked up from across the table, “Arte,” her mother drawled, “they’ve all accepted,” her mother said with a smile. Hollis looked confusedly between her family members, stopping on her mother again.

“What did I do now?” She asked slowly. Her mother looked at her, “Hollis, your father has something to discuss with you.” Her father widened his eyes and put down his goblet rather hard. Her brothers all tried to hide their laughs. He cleared his throat, “Well, Hollis,” he began hoarsely, coughing from choking on his ale, “we, the houses, you know, me and the earls decided.” Her mother groaned, “the earls have accepted to bring a prince from their houses for your hand.” Hollis froze and widened her eyes, “my hand? For what?” Her mother scoffed and shook her head, “for your betrothal.” This time it’s Hollis’s turn to choke on her wine. Cordelia lightly tapping her back.

“My what?” Hollis choked out. Ronan scoffed, “told you she’d take it well.” Her mother shot daggers at him, “Hollis you knew this would happen soon enough. What do you think we have been training you, schooling you for?” Hollis scoffed at her mother and looked at her dad, “dad,” she pleaded. Her father again widened his eyes in surprise, “Hollis,” he stammered and looked at his wife, “Merlyn,” her father drawled. Her mother tilted her head at him, “Hollis, please, it’s marriage it’s not the end of the world.”

Hollis slumped down in her chair, “Mother, suitors? Betrothal? Do I have any say in this at all.” Her mother shook her head, “Hollis, this happens to keep the peace between the houses and not start a war again. But by all means, please write the earls and tell them you’d rather wage war than marry one of the men they have chosen for you.” Hollis huffed and didn’t say anything else the entire dinner.

After dinner Hollis swung her sword against her bed posts, “Cordelia, am I a cow?” She growled while swinging her sword again. Cordelia shook her head, “no love, you are certainly not a cow.” Hollis laughed and swung her sword against the post, “then why,” she groaned, “does my mother get to sell me off like one?”

“Because,” Cordelia began, “from her perspective, technically you are a valuable asset. And look on the bright side here, one of them could be cute.” Hollis froze and looked at her blankly, “or you could like women without telling them to escape and forget this whole thing.” Hollis stopped again and dropped her sword, “hehe, right.” she joked, “that’s a great idea, my escape would be death. Just like it is now.” Seungkwan turned and leaned against the window, “don’t be so dramatic,” he pointed out, “if it all goes to shit, Cordelia and I could poison him and no one would know, then you would be able to rule alone.” Hollis looked at him flatly, “what no, we aren’t poisoning anyone.” she takes a breath. “Very well, if I am supposed to be betrothed then I am going to make it everyone’s problem. Of course I am going to be very thorough.” She paused, “and before you go there, no I am not going to do what you’re thinking, in fact it would be a miracle if i did do that with anyone of those arrogant, high horse, pretentious, ‘kingly’ men the earls have picked out.” Hollis gave the other two a bright, forced smile.

“That’s the spirit,” Seungkwan jokes.

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

Mingyu walked into his dining room, the dining room was extravagant to say the least, holding enough seats for his entire royal family, including extended family. The colors mimicked some that were representative of the house, gold being the main one. With ornate workings in the metal plastered about the dining room. He leaned to kiss his mother’s cheek before sitting down with the others. “Oh, Doyun,” his mother said from across the table to his father, “is everything ready for tomorrow?” His father nodded. Mingyu looked between them confused, “what’s tomorrow?” he asked before cutting into his food. Seungcheol laughed nervously and took the knife from him. Again Mingyu looked confused, “what’s tomorrow?” he asked again, giving Seungcheol a weird look.

“You’re going with the others to Jajeong tomorrow,” His mother told him sweetly. He smiled and tilted his head, “why?” he asked, trying not to sound upset. “Come on, Mingyu sweetie,” she began, “I told you a week ago, you’re going to Jajeong tomorrow to meet their Princess, remember?” Mingyu looked at his mom sadly, “but why?” he asked. The other boys at the table rolled their eyes.

“Because Mingyu,” his father began, “do you want to go to war with them and the others?” Mingyu slumped, “no, but still, it seems awfully degrading to her don’t you think?” he began, “do we even know what she looks like? Has anyone seen her?” Seungcheol put a hand on his shoulder, “well, no,” he began, “but we’ve heard stories and she seems pretty decent. I mean, granted there all rumors so she could be crazy but, hey, you’re smart, you’ll figure it out.” Mingyu’s mother smiled, “Seungcheol honey,” she began, “thank you, but that’ll do.”

Mingyu and Seungcheol walked to his chambers after dinner together, “Seungcheol, why is everyone okay with this? Is she even okay with this?” Seungcheol looked up at him, “well again, we don’t know,” he paused, and hit him lightly on his shoulder, “but maybe you can ask her when you meet her?” Mingyu smiled and nodded, “yeah, if I even get time with her, other guys will be there too you know.”

#seventeen #svtstories #mingyu #svt kpop #kpop imagines #kpop #svt imagines

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ahsbitch · 4 years ago

Text

Something Strange In The Air (Part 2)

Word Count: 2544

Summary: In the aftermath of your...incident with Michael, you’re still tumbling to figure out what you’re doing.

Warnings: It’s probably bad idk, oral (male receiving), face fucking, degradation, Mean!Michael & Being Mean To Michael, blue balls, waxing poetic, lots of cursing (as always), idk i can’t think of any others

A/N: Sorry this is really short and sorry it took so long I’m in college so I’ve been busy and I was writing a oneshot for a different fandom which took some time, the next chapter will have more plot to it and stuff I promise, my apologies for shitty writing and being a super slow writer, I’m doing my best I promise. As always, comments (even just in the tags) are always ultra appreciated!!!!!

Mini Tags: @wroteclassicaly @1-666-coven @michaellangdonstanaccount uhhh there are others but i can’t remember if i forgot to tag you i’m sorry pls remind me

ALSO I PUT IN THE KEEP READING THING BUT IT REFUSES TO WORK SO SORRY ABOUT THAT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was poetry flashing through your mind.

Some say the world will end in fire

Bits and pieces.

Death, be not proud

You couldn’t get him off your mind.

Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart

Couldn’t get your dream off your mind.

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

The way he had looked at you, in it, how he had held your hand.

He kindly stopped for me-

Michael often called you little witch,

Leave my loneliness unbroken

But he had never called you his little witch, as he had in the dream.

There will be time to murder and create

He was beautiful, almost angelic in appearance, you had to admit.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

And he pulled you in, in spite of how hard you tried to ignore it

I can no longer remain away from you

It was almost disgusting, how much you thought about him.

Curse, bless, me now with your tears, I pray

There was something about him that frightened you.

One short sleep past, we wake eternally

A lot about him that frightened you, actually.

A waking on a morn

“Y/N,” Cordelia spoke, and you could tell from her tone that this wasn’t the first time she’d said your name, “Are you with me?”

Shit, you’d gotten distracted.

You’d been called to a meeting in Cordelia’s office, made it to one of the chairs, and immediately spaced out.

You hadn’t really seen Michael in almost a week, nothing more than passing glimpses in the halls and quick pulses of his energy in the air. You’d been avoiding him. Or maybe he’d been avoiding you. Honestly, you couldn’t remember. You hadn’t spent a single night in your bedroom, instead floating around to parties and going to the swamps to practice your magic rather than spend time in the study room.

Fuck, things were getting complicated.

“I’m with you,” You smiled cautiously at her, “I’m sorry.”

She smiled back, something you couldn’t quite determine just behind her eyes. Concern, of course, her whole aura was clearly very concerned, but something else, and then she was speaking, her voice as calm as ever, “Don’t be sorry. Are you feeling okay?”

Of course not.

“Of course I am!”

“Try again,” Her hands were folded neatly on her desk, and you dropped your gaze to look at them, Cordelia’s words making you feel a strange sense of shame, “I’m a little worried about you, Y/N.”

Your ears were burning, your heart jumping wildly in your chest, “I’m sorry.”

She sighed, shaking her head, “Don’t be sorry. Just... what’s going on with you? What’s going on between you and Michael Langdon?”

Shit.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t been sleeping in your room, or studying in the house,” Cordelia looked at you strangely, and you held your breath, “Have you still been fighting?”

She didn’t know.

Thank fuck.

“Yes,” You responded, perhaps a little too quickly, “Yes, we have. We just can’t seem to agree on anything.”

Not entirely untrue.

She nodded sympathetically, and you were relieved to feel that she believed that was it, “I’m sorry. I feared something like this might happen. But Y/N, you need to return to your room.You can’t be out every night, and you can’t do all of your studying in the swamps. You’re still a student here. You have to be present, at least sometimes.”

“Okay,” Nodding, you worked on getting your breathing fully back to normal, “I’ll be back in my room tonight.”

“Good,” Cordelia reached out and squeezed your hand gently, “I’m proud of you, Y/N. You are a powerful witch, and a good woman. I believe in you.”

Not able to make yourself respond, you simply flashed her a smile and bolted for the door, blinking back tears.

Fuck, she’d bee so disappointed if she knew the truth.

You were barely out of the office when the door to a closet opened and someone tugged you inside, slamming it shut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck, Michael?” You snapped, blinking into the darkness.

Michael’s hand clamped over your mouth as he let out a growl, “Be quiet, little witch.”

You worked your mouth until you managed to clamp your teeth onto the skin of his palm, biting as hard as you could.

“Fuck,” He hissed, jerking away from you, “That hurt!”

“Good,” Glaring, you reached for the cord on the light and tugged on it, the weak bulb flickering overhead, “What the fuck?”

Glowering at you in the dim light, Michael crossed his arms, “What did Cordelia want?”

“None of your business.”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Shaking his head, he scoffed at you, “It was about me, wasn’t it? Does she know?”

It was childish to play dumb, and you knew that, but you were doing it anyway, “Does she know what? Why would we want to talk about you?”

It took only a single step for Michael to back you against the wall, pinning you there with his hips, "Don’t even bother with that shit. Answer the fucking question.”

You shoved at his chest, although even you had to admit that it was a halfhearted push. His proximity, especially after so long away from him, was overwhelming, and you felt your mind slipping to a place you didn’t want it to be, “Get the fuck away from me, asshole.”

Another shove, and he wrapped his hands around your wrists, holding them over your head, “You weren’t asking me to do that last time we saw each other, were you, little witch? Now. Does Cordelia know?”

“No,” Growling, you tried in vain to pull your hands back, “We talked about you, but she doesn’t know about that. Now let me go.”

Tilting his head to the side, Michael laughed at you, “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not the one in charge here.”

“Fuck you,” You spat, beginning to shake with something between fury and a feeling that you didn’t quite want to acknowledge.

“This is a pretty color,” Michael shifted both of your wrists to one hand and brought the other down to trail across your lips, tapping at the soft flesh, smudging a bit of the golden sheen, “Did you put this on for me?”

Ever since that day in the study room, not that day but the one before, you had taken to wearing more and more lipstick, coating your lips in a new color everyday.

Today was gold, one that shimmered when the light hit it, and if you were honest, yes, you did put it on for Michael. Every time you reapplied a coat of lipstick, today and every other, he flashed through your mind, the sneer on his features, the echo of his words in your ear when his fingers were down your throat.

“You look good like this...Gagging...You wear revealing clothes and you act like you’re doing it for yourself...But really you’re just a dumb, depraved, desperate little whore who wants nothing more than to be dicked down by your rival.”

Fuck, just thinking about it sent a wave of wetness gushing through you, and you tensed your legs in an effort to ignore it, and the smirk on Michael’s face told you that he had noticed.

Yes, you were wearing it for him.

“No,” You had to crane your head to glare at him with how close he was, “I don’t know if this is the first time you’re hearing this, but not everything is about you, Boy Wonder.”

He hummed, drawing his fingers along your cheekbone, and you cursed yourself for the way you leaned into the contact ever so subtly. After a moment he pressed his lips against yours, and although you fought to keep yourself in control, to keep from kissing him back, cursing yourself once again when you couldn’t hold yourself back, your noses smashing against one another, your mouth slipping open with a groan, quickly intruded upon by Michael’s tongue, which battled fiercely with yours.

And then suddenly he pulled away from you and stepped back, and you fell to your knees as he chuckled, his hands unbuckling his belt, “All the same, little bitch, I think that color would look wonderful smeared all over my cock, don’t you?”

“I fucking hate you,” You glared up at him through your eyelashes as one of his hands gripped your hair, the other pulling his dick out of the confines of his slacks.

“That just makes this all the more pathetic, doesn’t it?” He slapped your cheek with his dick gently, and it wasn’t lost on you how perfect it was, the size and the ridging and and the pulsing veins and the furious pink of the tip all making your mouth water, “Get up and walk away if you want, little witch bitch. But I don’t think you will. I think you want this. I think that being a little whore is the calling you’re pulled to most.”

Get up and walk away.

You could do that.

He pulled his hand from your hair, letting your head drop back, and you knew that if you moved to stand he would release you, would let you go. His precum had leaked onto your face as he continued to hit your cheeks, waiting to see what you would do.

Just get up and walk away.

But you couldn’t, couldn’t bring yourself to walk away without having the chance to taste him, not when the very thought was sending arousal roaring through you, and while you wished you could directly blame this on Michael, could say that his magic was holding you in place, that simply wasn’t it.

You opened your mouth as wide as you could and in an instant his cock was down your throat, Michael setting off to fuck your face at an intense pace.

Gagging, you brought your hands up to his thighs, and when your nails scratched against his legs through the fabric or his dress pants Michael let out a high, desperate groan.

Although you couldn’t quite smile at that, with how full your mouth was, there was a little voice gloating in the back of your head, and you squeezed his thigh tightly, drinking down his moans as you moved until his own back had hit the wall, his hands desperately moving from your hair to your shoulders to simply slamming down on either side of his body.

“Your mouth is good for something, I guess,” Michael grunted, as though he wasn’t as desperate for you as you had been for him a week ago, “You’re much prettier when you’re not talking, did you know that?”

You managed to flick back your middle finger enough to flip him off, although you didn’t pull back to make a verbal response. There was something urgent about this, and the idea of dropping him from your mouth seemed too great a sacrifice to make, when the harmony of Michael’s shockingly soft, animalistic moans mixed with the lewd, wet noises of his dick hitting the back of your throat was so disgustingly lovely.

Michael’s hands twitched, as though he was going to grab at your hair again, and at that moment he seemed to finally notice your own magic in the air, holding his wrists in place.

“You little bitch,” He snarled, straining against the magic, but all he could do was buck his hips into your mouth even harder, letting out a hiss as your teeth grazed him, as your tongue swirled around his head, “Let me go.”

But where’s the fun in that?

You didn’t let him go, and you didn’t stop. If anything, you grew more intense, your hands managing all over him, sneaking past the fabric of his clothes to leave angry scratches on his skin, so smooth underneath your touch. Eventually one of them trailed to his balls, tugging and toying with them roughly as he began to strain even harder, began to make a choked noise at the back of his throat that made your thighs clench, and you knew he was going to cum soon.

You pulled your mouth off of him.

He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, panting, desperate, watching as you trailed your tongue over every inch of his dick, pulling his balls into your mouth and sucking them slowly, and finally you pressed a kiss to the skin just above his cock and leaned back with a grin.

“What the fuck,” Michael growled, although his face showed a kind of manic desperation that he clearly wasn’t used to, “Get back to it!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Your smile got even wider, although your mouth was sore and your voice scratchy, you decided it was worth it, “You call me a little bitch all the time, but who’s the bitch now, Boy Wonder?”

“Y/N, I’m serious. I will ruin you,” Snarling in spite of the pained expression starting to grow on his face, he thrusted against you, and you let out a giggle at that.

“It’s so cute that you say that while you’re humping my leg like an unfixed puppy,” Shaking your head, you took a step back, out of the range of his hips, and looked down to admire his flushed, throbbing dick, “You were right, y’know. The gold does look good on there .Especially the contrast it has with the blue of your balls.”

He looked down to see that your words were true, the skin becoming overtaken with a pale, bruise like color, and when Michael looked back up at you there was something murderous in his eyes, “Quit fucking around. Let me go, and finish.”

“Why should I?”

Arms straining against their magical containment, face twisting with the growing pain in his balls, Michael’s voice had grown croaky, “Do it. I will never touch you again, if you walk away from this, do you get that you desperate little whore? You want me. You need me. Do what I fucking tell you.”

“I think there’s been a serious misunderstanding here, Langdon. I don’t need anything from you. You keep saying you’re the one in charge, but look at you. You’re nothing but a little blonde bimbo. So fuck you,” You scoffed, trailing a single hand across his chest and giving his nipple a harsh pinch, letting out a laugh at his angered whine, “And by the way, Cordelia says I have to move back into our room. I’ll be back tonight. I’ll see you whenever you get around to being the powerful warlock everyone thinks you are and break through my magic.”

With that, you pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his lip and turned away, not bothering to fix your own appearance before you went out, turning the light off before you closed Michael in the closet.

You were proud of yourself, you had to admit.

Scared, perhaps, of what he might do, and curious as to whether or not he’d keep the promise that he’d never touch you again-not that you wanted him to, of course, you were just curious-but you were proud all the same.

Fucking Michael Langdon.

#michael langdon smut #michael langdon x reader smut #michael langdon x reader #hawthorne!michael #hawthorne!michael smut #hawthorne!michael langdon #hawthorne!michael langdon x reader #hawthorne!michael langdon x reader smut #part two #my writing #mine #my shitty writing but #we'll burn that bridge when we come to it #ahs fic #ahs oneshot #ahs smut #enjoy #if you can again i'm sorry it's short and bad #much love

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stiltonbasket · 4 years ago

Note

this is my own little indulgent headcanon for my daydream universe in which the universe you've created heavily features in, but what are your thoughts with chunyang falling in love with the reincarnation of wen qing or even just another woman? maybe its bc im gay but even tho i love jz/jyl i think jyl should have gotten to be with a lovely young lady. and the line about "i'd like to choose [who i marry]" makes me go *thinking emoji*. idk if its ur thing but i would die if u wrote smth for this

I could not stop thinking about this, so have a little au with fem!jin hong! <3

To his most esteemed Excellency…

“Chun-bao?”

Considering the decade of close friendship between our clans…

“Hm?”

“Is everything all right?” Wei Shuilan asks, poking her younger sister in the shoulder. “You’ve been staring at that letter for the past five minutes.”

And the closeness of age between my son Zhang Xiting and your daughter, the second Young Mistress Wei--

“Oh, it’s just--just a petition for Father. I’m sorting them out so he knows which ones to look at first when he comes home.”

...I would be most honored if you would consider his suit when the time is right for Wei Chunyang-xiaojie to be married.

Even though Wei Chunyang and all four of her siblings have long since grown old enough to move out of their parents’ house, the whole family still eats meals together in the jingshi at least four times a week. The whole family includes Jingyi, of course, since he was part of the family even before he and Chunyang’s xiongzhang decided to adopt a son together, and her Yu-gege’s own husband and son. Her sister Shuilan is here, too, since she and Chunyang still live with their A-Die and Fuqin, and sometimes Xichen-bobo or one of their more distant cousins comes along, too.

Today, the cousin in question is Rulan-ge’s daughter, Jin Hong. She was Wei Chunyang’s best friend growing up, since the two of them are the same age, but they drifted apart as they grew older--out of no fault on either of their parts, but because of circumstance. Jin Hong rarely has the time to leave the Jinlintai or answer Chunyang’s letters, and Chunyang never had the chance to go to school with her because she studies the dao of healing cultivation like her Uncle Xichen, while Jin Hong follows the jiandao.

These days, Chunyang doesn’t really know what to say to her on the rare occasions their paths do cross, which is why she only gives Jin Hong a close-lipped smile and slides into her usual seat at A-Die’s right when lunchtime rolls around.

“Jin Hong,” she says, inclining her head as A-Die (doting as ever, just like Papa) fills up her plate with soft white rice, and adds a little bowl of her favorite spicy noodles on the side. “It’s lovely to see you again!”

And confusing, Chunyang doesn’t add. But there’s not much talking at meals anyway, because her brother-in-law Nie Zhuyan (who managed to woo her brother Lan Yu after five long years of courtship, even though Lan Yu didn’t know he was being courted for the first four years, eleven months, and twenty-seven days) is more of a stickler for the sect precepts than the rest of the family, out of the fear that he might offend Papa by accident.

A-Die is enough conversation for the whole table, though, and there is plenty of laughter--both his and Yu-gege’s, and then everyone else’s, which is why Chunyang could probably have chosen a better time to tell her parents about Zhoushan Zhang’s request for her hand in marriage.

“They what?” A-Die gasps, overturning his cup of tea. Xiongzhang gives him a handkerchief, but he looks as worried as A-Die and Papa do when he turns around to stare at her. “You can’t get married! You’re only twenty-one! You’re a baby!”

“She’s of age,” Shuilan-jie points out, in a vain effort to distract everyone from the rivalry-slash-courtship-slash-bitter enmity thing she has going on with one of the sect’s best music teachers, Lan Fang, who spends all his time writing sad love songs for her and crying every time she tells him she hates him. “She can get married if she wants to, right?”

“If she wants to, then certainly,” Papa says, trying to sound like he isn’t fretting. “But that is not your elders’ place to decide, Chun-bao, and certainly not Zhoushan Zhang’s. Do you know the young master they offered?”

“No,” she admits. Zhang Xiting attended the Lan sect lectures when she was around fifteen, but Chunyang only ever met him at the opening and closing ceremonies because her classes were in the physicians’ compound with her uncle. “I was going to write back this afternoon with a rejection, actually.”

Across from her, Jin Hong’s shoulders relax a little.

“Ah, that’s good,” A-Die sighs, patting her hand. “I knew we were going to have to think about this sometime, of course, but you really are too young! Look, even your jiejie isn’t married yet.”

Wei Shuilan looks so offended that Jingyi-ge starts choking in an attempt to hide his laughter. “I’m never going to get married. A-Chun doesn’t have to wait for me.”

“I meant that Chunyang should follow your example, A-Lan. Marriage is overrated.”

Nie Zhuyan gives A-Die an incredulous sort of stare. “But father-in-law, you’re happily married! And so am I. Being wed is wonderful!”

“Not for my baby girls,” A-Die counters, while Lan Yu covers his face with his sleeve to hide his blush. “Where in the world am I supposed to find a man worthy of A-Lan, hm? Or a nice young master for my sweet little Chun-bao? I don’t believe they exist, so they’re going to be good little radishes and stay with their poor old A-Die until he dies.”

“Wei Ying,” Father says, clearly pained by even the thought of A-Die dying. “Do not say such things.”

I don’t want to marry any young master, Chunyang thinks, as Yu-gege starts teasing Shuilan about Lan Fang again. I just want to stay here, with my parents.

(She doesn’t think of warm orange fur, or a pair of laughing golden eyes, or the countless letters to Lanling Jin that her once-best friend never answered.

It’s better this way, after all.)

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #my fic #wei chunyang #okay okay so for everyone who's curious #jin hong had her gay awakening when she was around 12 #and panicked because lanling is pretty homophobic tbh #outside her family that is #and she's afraid she'll damage her dad's position and reputation if she gets involved with another girl #so she tried to distance herself from wcy in an effort to drown her feelings #but it didn't work #and all it did was break wcy's heart jin zixuan style #and yes jin hong's mother is nie shiyong #she too is a tiger shifter #anon lmk if you want to see a follow up with a chunhong confession scene!#prompt fill

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yangsrose · 4 years ago

Text

Cheater Route: No (ending one)

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, mentions of making out, and mentions of cursing, angst

Authors Notes: (reposting since it’s not showing up in the tags) Before I start I just want to say thank you for showing this so much love!! 🥺🥺 I actually thought of this idea in the middle of AP Bio and wanted to write about it but didn’t know how it would turn out since this is my first time writing something like this. I actually ended up liking the format and might continue on with this type of writing in the future and I’m so excited for it!! Okay enough of my ranting lol onto the second ending...

You stared at him with a blank look as you scanned his face. His eyes and nose were red, and he seemed as if he had been crying nonstop. You scoffed and tried to close the door, not wanting to see him ever again. YangYang saw your arm moving towards the doorknob and quickly stuck his foot in the doorway, preventing the door from closing.

“Please. Just let me explain” he pleaded. You looked down at the ground, refusing to look him in the eye since you knew that it would result in you allowing YangYang to come inside.

“I’m sorry YangYang. What you did today made me lose my trust in you. I don’t think I can ever allow you back into my life after what you did to me. I think it’s best if you just leave. I’ll give you your stuff back tomorrow.” you said before shutting the door. You heard YangYang sigh and mutter a curse under his breath before knocking again. You stood your ground and refused to open the door, instead opting to walk into the kitchen and place the pan back in the cabinet where you took it out of. You slowly walked back into your room and began taking out all of YangYang’s belongings, placing them into boxes so that you could give them back to him tomorrow. You felt your eyes slowly become misty as you remembered the times that you would sift through his closet, trying to find a hoodie to wear. Now, they were all just clothes in a box waiting to go to their owner. It took about two hours to devoid your room of anything remotely close to YangYang, and with each item removed, you felt a little piece of your heart crack and fall off.

You climbed into your bed and willed your brain to stop thinking and allow you to sleep, but all you could see was YangYang making out with someone other than you. You squeezed your eyes in a vain attempt to prevent any tears from leaking out, but all that effort went to waste as they still fell onto your pillow, staining your cheeks and causing your eyelids to feel heavier than the weight in your heart.

You woke up the next morning and looked at yourself in the mirror. The reflection that stared back at you was almost unrecognisable. The usually bubbly and happy person was now a puffy eyed, red nosed, and gloomy person, face void of any emotions. You sighed and splashed a bit of cold water on your face, hoping that the temperature change would cause you to look somewhat alive.

You packed up and loaded all the boxes into your car before leaving for university, making sure not to leave anything behind. As you pulled up to the familiar building, you saw YangYang’s car parked next to the place where you would normally park your car. You sighed and parked into your designated palace, making sure not to make eye contact with YangYang.

You got out of the car after grabbing your belongings and heard YangYang shuffling to exit his car so that he could have a chance to talk to you. You ignored his soft voice calling your name and pleading to just listen to him for once. You instead opted to take out the boxes from your car and place them in front of YangYang. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy with dark circles around them, and anyone looking at him would know that he didn’t sleep at all last night. The mere sight of him was enough to make you feel pity, but you chose to stand your ground and instead explain to him what the boxes were.

“Here. These are your stuff from the apartment. I made sure to pack everything so after this you have no need to visit me or come to the apartment again.” With that, you turned around and left YangYang standing in confusion. You heard him call your name and with each call, the temptation to turn around and run back to him grew stronger. But deep down inside, you knew that what you just did was the right decision and that you should not give YangYang another chance to mend his mistake.

After getting back home from university, you made sure to block and delete his phone number, as well as blocking and deleting any posts involving him on social media. Your friends called and texted you, wondering what happened in between you and YangYang. You instead opted to turn off your phone and wallow in your own sadness as you watched random movies playing on Netflix.

In the following days, you would see YangYang on the path to your classes, but every time you would come close to getting in contact with him, you would turn around and walk the other way, even if that meant that you would be late for your next class.

Over time, you would see YangYang less and less, until it got to the point where you would go without seeing YangYang for an entire day. You pretended to be fine with the absence in your life, trying to convince yourself that his disappearance was only for the better.

Your friends tried to set you up with other people as a means of getting over your ex, but each date that you went on left you more empty as you would get reminded of the dates that YangYang would take you on.

One particular night however, you went to a fancy restaurant with one of your dates. He was a nice person, and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t catching feelings for him. As you walked into the restaurant, you walked over to your table and sat across your date, making small talk with him as you waited for your orders to arrive. You heard a “Oh my gosh yes!” from a customer in the restaurant. As you made eye contact with the owner of the sound, you couldn’t help but allow your eyes to water. It had been a little bit less that two years since you had last seen him, but nothing would ever prepare you to face YangYang once again after all these years. He looked the same as he did when you had broken up with him, but just as you saw the familiar gummy smile take over his face, you could help but draw your attention to the shimmering jewel that currently rested in the small velvet box. You recognised the woman that he was currently proposing to as the person that he cheated on you with, and with that prompt, you couldn’t help but allow the tears to flow freely down your face as you hastily picked up your purse and ran out of the restaurant. You heard your date yell your name, but the only thing on your mind was getting away from YangYang as fast as you could.

As you exited the restaurant, the cold air pierced your skin as you ran to your car to escape the outside world. As you opened the car door, your sobs gradually increased to the point where you couldn’t even see past the tears formulating in your eyes.

After what seemed like hours, you slowly felt your heart rate decrease and felt the tears in your eyes clear up. You darkly chuckled and went over the scene that had taken place prior to your emotional breakdown. As thoughts of anger and betrayal clouded your mind, you heard a giggle come from the entrance of the restaurant. You panicked and attempted to start your car in an endeavor to leave without being noticed. Your efforts went in vain though as YangYang made eye contact with you as he passed in front of your car with his now fiancee. You saw his eyes grow wide as he recognised you, but instead of waving or noticing you, he turned around and proceeded to dote on his lover. The sight of that made your eyes water up once again and you pulled out of the parking lot, feeling more sad and empty than you had ever felt before. Maybe not everyone was meant to have a happy ending.

#nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #nct reactions #wayv reactions #yangyang #nct drabbles #wayv drabbles #nct fluff #wayv fluff #nct angst #wayv angst #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop drabbles #kpop fluff #kpop angst #nct #wayv

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 5 years ago

Text

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 13)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 12

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Your existence in their world had reasons. A purpose that involves the contentment that Geralt never found in the world that he was in. The feelings you have for your witcher makes you feel things that you haven’t experienced yet, desires that make you feel sorts of things as it also was a cause of the Cicatrix that laid in between your chest. The question is, were you on the same page as Geralt is? or was it just a misunderstanding prior to that night?

Warnings: Soft and smiley Geralt! (*rolls on the ground*), Sexual Implications, a needy reader, an annoying bard, MODERN references, mention of Divergent, grumpy Geralt, a soft-touchy-feely reader. FLOOFY chapter! Insecure reader tho. 😭 Harry potter and Lord of the Rings references. HAHA!

Words: 8.5k (Well, Hello long ass chapter)

A/N: THERE’S STILL CHAPTER 13.1 BEFORE THE SMUT. AHE. Sorry for the delay. Happy mother’s day to all the mothers out there! Y’all are the best and real superheroes! If this chapter didn’t make you smile, then this means I am a failure for everyone! 😂💖

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

KISSING GERALT HAS BEEN SUCH A DREAM. The kiss felt like you were in seventh heaven and it also kept your mind wide awake the whole night; even with Geralt by your side with his lulling monster stories and those gentle fingers raking your hair like how he always does.

The gesture even made you a little more giddy than ever and Geralt didn't seem to mind as you've kept yourself wide awake; watching him sleep and never keeping him out of sight.

Though, he'd eventually covered those coy eyes of yours because it was bothering him; coaxing you to stop staring and just have your beauty slumber because you needed all the energy for your training.

A training that you thought would be for Cirilla because they've always had their swordplay fights before the sun rises and sometimes in the middle of a beautiful morning; as you watch Geralt in discreet as he wields his sword like how the waves move in the ocean. Very satisfying to ogle and observe.

The way he handles a sword was perfectly smooth and bland like how your coffee tastes in the morning.

Which is why your face was scrunched in peculiarity when he was done with Cirilla's training; giving the smaller silver sword to you with that reticent expression on his face; his habitual tight-lips now relaxed as he eyed you back with that tender gaze he holds whenever you were there.

An image you weren't used to; but may seem to wish it would be there forever because of how soft he appeared for you to see, not his usual brooding and serious persona.

"This is a very nice first date," you sarcastically muttered; wanting to scoff and whine from how unusual it was to receive training from the witcher like you were some sort of Tris Prior in the world of Divergents.

After the kiss last night, you've expected him to give you flowers, gifts, kisses or maybe more of his attention. Howbeit, you'd remember that you weren't in your world and that he wasn't a typical man who'd woo women like that. Geralt was probably a man whom women has been trying to court just to have his attention based on how beautiful and captivating he was.

Were you his beloved now? A girlfriend? his lover? you actually had no idea and chose to stay silent. Never asking anything more as to not ruin his good mood as he woke up in the morning.

Geralt didn't specifically told you anything about being his beloved. The only thing you understood in his words last night was that you were important to him and that he also cared.

Perhaps, he doesn't roll that way. The witcher wasn't particularly that type of man.

Therefore, you left it at that although it was dithering your heart. You were contented whether how ill-defined your position was in his heart.

"Why am I doing this again, Geralt?"

The latter silently watched you fidget with the sword on your hands, your cheeks puffed from how strange you thought his favors may be. He couldn't help but give you a beam that showed his teeth, his emotions thoroughly in a bliss after the night he confessed; parts of his aggression lifting up his chest, "The bard knows how to fight with his dagger," he adhered strictly to the fact, keeping the sword safely on his side.

Those lips of yours jutted in an opposing pout; your eyes seeming to connect with his spellbinding ones while he continued to wheedle, his cat-eyes curving into a soft shape of a crescent and you were totally enamored. Your heart skipping a beat when he was never breaking his gaze away; giving your stomach the heebie-jeebies, "---Cirilla is finally learning the techniques of using a sword,"

Your mouth was now turned into a tight-lipped one, shaking your head from the idea he wanted as you scrunched your nose further, "And I am better watching you and Cirilla have your little sword play fight," pause. "---I'm not going to fight anyone,"

You've continuously shook your head, tutting at the brilliant idea he'd tried to think of. Though, Geralt was adamant for his preposition; seeming to think the idea won't get you stabbing him accidentally or better yet, yourself.

"We can't be certain that there wouldn't be," he proclaimed, utterly determined.

You huffed out a frustrated breath, face falling right in the middle of the meadow as Geralt stood before you. His comely stature shining against the morning light and you were sure you've been blinded, "Right. Bad people are chasing you still,"

A bashful look has been unintentionally given to the witcher, lighting up an amused crooked smile and hum from the latter as he stayed completely taciturn, admiring the shy woman that stood before him.

You've suddenly felt him shift, turning your focus back at the Herculean, white haired Legolas as he'd languidly took a step back, looking calm and composed as he firmly ordered. His smile falling, turning all ruminative.

"Hit me."

More complaints were sent for what he requested, finding the whole ordeal somehow lamented because all you ever held was a pen, paper or laptops that certainly doesn't deal with people shedding blood unless you stab a pen at them. Sure, you've dreamt of fighting in combat in fantasy series or movies; but in your imagination, you were skilled. The version of yourself that you had in your dreams had talent and the one you have today only had idiotical abilities to plot your own demise because of how foolish you were in their world.

"Can't I fight with Jaskier?"

Geralt cocked his head to the side; in utter amusement as a small smile carved his pretty, luscious lips that grabbed all your attention. The witcher immediately noticed and had a smug glint in his amber eyes as he talked, "If you wish to annoy people and woo the king then he is excellent at it," pause. "---You wouldn't learn how to use a real sword from the bard. Unless, using a lute as a form of weapon in the middle of a royal banquet is your choice of fighting then Jaskier would do a great job,"

Thus, from the moment Geralt has made his utterance, Jaskier somehow had the luckiest time on planning to feed Roach as he emerged from the doorway, ceasing himself from sending a teasing ridicule as his name has been called in vain; backstabbing him by finding entertainment from how he tried shielding himself from the incident back in the years.

"I've never received any compliments from you don't you, witcher?" he hollered back, enclosing his mouth with a hand as he called from afar; a bucket full of Roach's food on the other.

Jaskier seen Geralt shake his head, a surprising beam drawing his face as the witcher playfully wisecracked out loud, "You don't need them, Jaskier."

The harmless banter made Jaskier pucker his lips in surprise, never anticipating how he'd gradually changed from being the brooding, reserved witcher to the grinning, active man he was seeing as he was teaching a woman who had no inspiration on learning the techniques of sword fighting.

Geralt simply turned his head to see you awkwardly holding onto the base of Cirilla's sword; having a gawky, hunched stance and the witcher took heed of it but chose not to correct it yet. You were dubious of even holding a sword and also a lot more hesitant as you've tried to strike a blow at his face. Without effort, he'd simply dodged the attack with one hand using minimal strength. The swords instantaneously crashing against each other with a satisfying ring of metals colliding.

Unfortunately, the weapon flew out of your hands as he'd dodged your strike, shamefully falling on the ground with a soft thud. Geralt snapped his eyes at the sword that fell from your hands before feeling his eyes turn to you, "Midget." he calmly scolded, having at least a massive amount of patience for you, "---Take it easy." you'd heard him advice. Baritone timbre soft but still rough which stirred that familiar warmth pooling just below your stomach; heart beat stumping upon your chest because of how you were worried it would obscenely pool in between your thighs. Just the thought of Geralt's presence kindled with the fire raging your insides.

You've never had felt any such strong desire for a man other than the witcher himself and it was beginning to grow frightening because of how you wanted him so bad; the kiss you had probably triggering something inside of you that didn't know it existed.

Maybe, it was probably horny hours like how you had them back in your apartment. The problem here was that you finally had a man to do it with, but you weren't sure if he also desired for you the same way as you do.

What if he only wanted you for companionship? Perhaps, he'll somehow find you boring like how your dates went back in earth when the time comes?

You didn't notice Geralt has grabbed onto the sword that flew right out of your hands, sauntering towards where you were and his presence lingering a little too close for those kindling flames aggravating that desire you had when his voice vibrated from behind.

"Also, try harder."

Despite of how enormously tall and brawny he was, the witcher leaned down to grab onto your hand, his rough fingers caressing yours that was sparking up the flames as it felt so gentle. He placed the handle of the sword onto your palm, delicately dragging the other to hold onto the base. Those calloused palms of his enclosing yours in a warm embrace as his warmth from behind seemed to turn more quenchless as time goes by, a sudden hunger flooding your system as your body turned putty with just a simple touch.

You've felt your throat run dry, stance turning standoffish when he'd loomed behind you. Heavily aware of his presence. Your voice cracking and stuttering as you mindlessly thought out loud, trying to wash the vulgar thoughts away, "I--I--I am! It's just that you've given me a real sword for practice!"

Geralt reiterated; utterly droning, "It's lighter than mine," with a simple raise of his brow as he stood behind you, his face inches close and you could feel his stare completely immense, making you look away from how flushed your face have been, "Even so! It can hurt anyone! Can't I learn witchcraft instead? I’ll be the potato version of Hermione Granger! It’s impossible that your world has no Voldemort! Expecto Patronum! Avada Kedavra!"

The preposition was hurriedly rejected with just Geralt's smile turning upside down; replaced with a scowl that coaxed you to turn your head to see him shaking his head with his face approximately close to yours; those amber eyes trying to melt your heart as he still had that vivid, affectionate dewdrop clustering in those peepers that provoked a satisfied sigh out of your ajar mouth.

His pitch suddenly turned austere; mouth tight-lipped as he quoted, "You will not use any ounce of sorcery from my world," you've seen the side of his lip turn into a smirk as he haughtily added, "---Alas, you are also too clumsy and impulsive for it,"

Geralt grudgingly moved his face an inch away; not before seeing a sight of him taking glimpses of your ajar lips as you awaited to be kissed by the witcher himself; howbeit, he chose to tease and ignored the accented feelings he had been trying to hide since the first day.

The latter surprisingly gave a chortle, his chuckle sounding heavenly amongst the birds chirping in the background, "How dare you?!"

He gave your hands consolatory pats as it was already surrounding the base of the sword. Geralt straightened his back, his thumbs casually giving the back of your hand a soft caress before taking heed of your silent squealing from his seraphic touches, "Hold the sword with your dominant hand, midget." before he took a step back away and muttering a mocking repartee, "---Maybe a Hirikka will be a better combatant than you,"

You've watched him waltzed back to where he was as he stood in front of you with a grin on his face, "I shouldn't have accepted your apology last night." you deadpanned with your eyebrows furrowed from how riled up and entirely flustered you were feeling early in the morning.

The witcher tipped his head with his smug grin, "You didn't. I just knew you would because you never get to have your nap without receiving cuddles and chill from me,"

You've feigned a gasp, unclasping your hold around the sword as you placed your palms around your hip, giving him a sassy posture of how you were appalling by the truth that he suddenly was giving; thoroughly surprised by his sudden pesky, frolic attitude he seemed to vibe. He was learning from your modern references and it shocked you even more.

"It was cold last night!"

"The night is also dark," He ridiculed and mocked what you've said to him last night while he was asking for forgiveness. His teeth slipped against the cardinal pillows of his lips, giving you a gorgeous toothy grin that made your breath hitch as if his aesthetics radiated off the sun light, "---You needed my warmth, midget."

A playful glare was sent to the witcher; intentionally keeping up with his mockeries as you gave a chuff and found his mischief rather entertaining because he rarely acts the way he is right now, "Are you a furnace? No. You aren't, Geralt of Rivia. Don't act like raking those fingers of yours through my hair doesn't help you sleep at night---"

"But, I'm your furnace amidst the benumbing night."

You couldn't help but giggle from his innocuous pick up line, utterly finding it amusing and endearing when you've understood it way differently despite of how ingenuous he wanted it to sound.

Their era and how they communicate was certainly giving you a good ol' laugh.

"Are you calling yourself hot?"

Geralt couldn't help but outstare; gawking from the dazzling laugh you've mindlessly given him. He was oblivious of his beguiling beams he has been making you see and the gaze that bewitched the morose of his spirit, puzzling how a mere person could take away the misery that has been haunting him since the moment his mother has left him alone to become a witcher in their world and a lot more great affliction he'd somehow experienced.

Presumably, your existence in their world had reasons.

Hence, the witcher knew it involved his happiness.

"Now, keep your stance firm," he snapped out of his daydream, gently tapping the tip of his sword on your thigh which erupted a squeak and a tiny whine from you, "---I can't always be with you when you are attacked by anyone who wants my family dead,"

You tilted your head to the side, cheekily wiggling your eyebrows as you grinned up at him like a Cheshire cat as he shook his head from your playfulness, "Did you just lowkey tell me that you treat me as family?"

"Would you want it to be that way then?"

Another failed attempt of giving a successful, strong blow has been swung towards the latter, easily stepping one foot back as he blocked the smite with one hand. Though, you hadn't let the sword fly out of your hands this time which Geralt considered as slight improvement for being taught in the first day.

"Hmm. Again." he'd given an entranced hum, giving a tight lipped smile as he affirmed and tried to wriggle out more strength from you because it was pretty much a reluctant strike as well.

You've straightened your back, keeping your feet loosely away from each other as you sighed an exasperated one. The sword falling on your side as you wanted a truce. Feckless of the pout you were giving to the witcher who was too persistent in giving your body an ache from the training. Geralt raised a brow, seeming to enjoy your whining and allegations from the moment he'd given you a sword.

"Stop puckering your lips like that. I'm not giving you a buss when you're acting like a chit,"

A buss. It sounded pretty much familiar as it was used in those romance books you've read back in earth. His straightforwardness tickling your spine in a delicious way that got you flustered for the tenth time this day. You know your eyebrows rose up till your hairline from how he was assuming things that were actually the truth, "Did that mean a kiss?! I--I wasn't asking for a kiss though!"

"Then, acting adorable won't let you get away from this."

You've groaned out loud; fighting yourself off from stomping your foot out in utter vexation from how he'd always seem to knew what you were thinking. Were you that obvious?

"I hate you,"

Geralt took a stroll towards you, thoroughly leaning down to your height with a cross of his prodigious arms; the sword still in his fist and watching how he'd closely stared into your eyes as he fought off a smile, "The hate is quite indistinct and difficult to tell after you've been kissed last night,"

Your heart wanted to burst from the embarrassment, feeling your face turning into flames. Just add a little bit of oil and people could probably fry anything they wanted to as they use your face as a pan.

Reprehension would have escaped your lips if a hand hasn't clutched onto the side of your neck, his hot breath assaulting your face before you've felt his lips on yours in a hot second; never giving you time to process everything as he broke the buss with a sweet, tinge sound that seemed more soundly in your ears rather than swords colliding in a battle.

His hand behind your nape left in haste, straightening his back and shoulders; acting like he hadn't done anything wrong nor he continued to act like he didn't even give you a small, plain peck to the lips that gave a startle and somehow positioned you into a blissful, heart exploding condition.

"You don't dislike me, midget." Geralt's expressions were indescribable. His features stoic for five seconds before seeing his lips turning into a gloaty smirk as he spun in his heels, leaving you dumbstruck from the surprise.

"G-GERALT! That's not fair!" you stood rooted on the ground, keeping your lips together as you smacked it out loud like you couldn't believe he'd given you another kiss to ruin your ovaries and focus.

He strolled along the meadow, his emotions flying elsewhere as he was entirely finding your reactions hilarious. Geralt walked the path back to where he stood before, turning around in face-front to see your face all red and giving him the stink-eye, "Nothing is ever fair. Now, use all your strength to hit me with your sword."

You tightly grabbed onto your sword with both hands, listening to how he'd told you it should be held and also thoroughly remembering the basics that he told you prior; keeping your stance better than the one you held a while ago, watching how his face lit up as yours turned serious and challenging, "Oh, I will! You're a cocky witcher today and it's annoying!"

Jaskier have fed Roach back in the stable, he walked back to the doorway to see Cirilla leaning her back on the stone walls, arms crossed with a smile that tells how amused she was as she watched how you were trying to strike a successful blow at the witcher who found your lack of knowledge utterly astonishing and endearing; regardless of how he has been fond of having lovers which were strongly independent and knew how to stay alive in a battle.

You were a paradox to his life. Utterly questionable as to why you have even arrived.

"He's not teaching her how to fight," Cirilla admitted towards the bard who subtly nodded beside her, also watching the quote training unquote that you had with the white wolf. Yet, both of them could see how his way of teaching seemed to be less harsh than how they've been taught. Totally aware of how he was also buoyant rather than serious and brooding.

It was like a different Geralt that loom before them as he tutted and shook his head to cease your reckless attempts of trying to hit him with the sword; grabbing onto your fingers to cease you as he explained with a relaxed face he'd given while all you could do was glare and huff back.

Jaskier gave a small smile, eyes narrowed from how the sunshine hits his face and mindlessly tapped the handle of the bucket with his index finger, "The witcher is flirting with the rat, probably want some bonking,"

The lion cub of Cintra gave him a once over, "Some what, bard?"

"Forget what I said,"

Cirilla brushed him off as she went on with her lurking, Something you said ignited a grin out of the witcher as he quietly listened to your rants and rambles about how annoying he have been, "Also, this is the first time I'd seen Geralt smiling like that again. I hope she doesn't leave. I'll do everything for her not to leave,"

The bard gave a nod of understanding. Deeply thinking as to why Cirilla would do everything in her willpower for you not to leave; hence, seeing the smile that Geralt has given you was a simple answer as to why you needed more protecting and a lot more time to stay. Would it be selfish of them when you probably had a family back in your world?

Thus, Jaskier's gaze lingered on you and saw how you giggled back at the witcher who has said something that made him scowl. The mere sight of you strumming along the rakish onslaught of his heart strings from the week that Geralt wasn't around bothered him but he chose the better of it and ignored.

"But, isn't it strange?---" he momentarily ceased, snapping his gaze away from you as Cirilla gave him a nasty lour for whatever thoughts he wanted to say out loud, "---That your step-mother would be pretty much smaller than you?"

The child loudly groaned in response, turning her back away from him as she pulled the doors to go in, "You are honestly the most irritating person in the continent,"

The day has been pretty much a blur. After being trained by the witcher no matter how many failed attempts you tried; his patience utterly high for you to even comprehend that he had a lofty tolerance for your inability to successfully strike a sword.

Your arms were somehow sore, considering the amount of attempts that Geralt has been repeatedly telling you to just hit him with all your might, yet being active in the battlefield will never be your forte. He tried giving you hope, downright telling you that it was normal and everyone improves sooner or later as long as your training had consistency.

You've been a bitchy-pants after the training. All catty and stopping yourself from sending a t-bird for the bard who received a snide remark and decided to send irritating teases that you were just being sexually frustrated.

Simply to say, Jaskier knew you were having your horny hours. That time of the day or that day of the week.

How'd he know? you had no idea. It was probably only his guesses as to why you were acting bitchy towards everyone except Kolby and Cirilla. You were being bitchy towards the men of the house especially at Geralt who has given you body soreness.

If only it was a different type of ache, you would probably not be bitchy.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you sat your back along the walls of the hallway, the only place where you've found peace because walking in the first floor even got you vexed because Jaskier seem to find your irritation amusing and had been running his mouth about how it was fine to just give in to your fantasies especially that the witcher probably had wanted it as well since the first day.

You were contemplating whether or not to turn on your cellphone; remembering how it was only at seventy-five percent. You've stared on your phone that rested on your hands, spinning it around as you were trying to fight off the kept fervor that has been insatiable and a bother when Geralt has given you one touch.

The feelings and emotions have been skyrocketing, it was already there even just from the start of your morning. However, after going home from the Djinn troubles, it started doubling and began to grow bestial like a monster wanted to come out of your chest from how you badly needed the witcher.

It just wasn't normal.

Geralt was entirely aware of your vexation. Though, he was meters apart from you and was actually outside to take care of Roach. Inside his chest, he felt an ounce of disturbance with the help of your irritations and frustrations; the sensations coming back again and the witcher still had no idea why.

He knew where you were and decided to find you. Finding a midget hunched in the middle of the hallways with her brows tightly furrowed, a worried pout on her face and blown cheeks as you fidgeted with your phone.

Geralt fought the urge of smirking and just sauntered to where you were, his heart beat beating in blissful thumps that got him wondering how it was even possible in just the sight of you.

You've felt his presence looming before your stooping form, a stink eye was given to the witcher who crouched in front of you, his burning gaze solely on you as he cocked his head to the side, observing your face and the state you were in with a smile growing on his face.

"You're annoyed." he artlessly admitted, never risking to leave your sight.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you felt the burning desire grow even further, turning away to help your poor little heart from feeling more bothered than it ever intended to, "How'd you know, Legolas?"

The nasally mention of that nickname you had for him got Geralt frowning. His forehead creased to the extent that he seemed to be thinking rather too deeply as to who this Legolas was and why were you even calling him that.

"---and now you're the one annoyed,"

Geralt kept his lips in a tight firm line. Amber peepers shining in dissatisfaction.

You brushed off his noncommittal reaction; already used to his lethargic norms as you complained about his infuriating friend, "It's Jaskier! He's annoying me since this morning!"

He just continued to give you a listless look, giving a displeased hum as he wholeheartedly let you rant to him.

Then, you added, "---Just his breathing irks me!" which only a hum was the only word you've received again, "Hmm."

You've irritatingly grunted, giving him a glout as you also kvetched, "Stop the humming! You're annoying me as well! You've been annoying me too since this morning!"

Your cavils has stirred a defeated sigh from the latter. His sudden actions obviously had reasons as to why you were abruptly being trained with a weapon. If only he hadn't brought you with them in the marketplace and haven't run into Tybalt then gallants weren't supposed to be searching for you by fair means or foul.

"What did I do this time?" he lowly grumbled, utterly dead beat. A faint, crooked smile raising those lips of his. You've held onto your phone a little more tighter, feeble arms crossed in front of your chest as he simply gave you his attention that you somehow yearn a lot, "You and Jaskier can stay in one room together while I sleep in yours! Men are so annoying! Always have been!"

Geralt's features appeared to be of someone who was suddenly bothered at the understanding of your statement, his listening comprehension twisting whatever it is that you've said as he skeptically appalled, "You have been with other men?"

Your face twisted in a tight cringe, bewildered by his presumptions that sounded like he was telling that you had a lot of men back in the days or basically his words were telling you that he couldn't believe that you actually had a man before. You've given him at least ten seconds of you just giving him a displeased flicker of your eyes before the white haired witcher proceeded with his remarks.

"Also, are you threatening me in my own home? You're kicking me out of my own chambers?"

An innocent nod was given to Geralt. The witcher simply gave an enervated blink, hearing a serious growl buzzed out of his chest; scrutinizing for whatever your eyes held out to him. The intensified gaze of his peepers searing that says he needed your sincere answers.

"This...Legolas you have been calling me," pause. "--- Do I remind you of your previous lover?"

You waited for more additional questions or perhaps a moment where he could tell you that he was just joking around. However, the intimidating, gargantuan monster-slayer who was crouched before you; never said that he was just giving out any jocularity of his previous light-hearted demeanor as he was all brooding again.

He fervently stared you down, making you shift on the floor as you looked up into his eyes; mirth surrounding the windows to your soul when he didn't budge after you've given him an guileless beam, "Yeah. Pfft. Earth also has their own witcher slash elves---What? Oh my God, this is funny."

Geralt is all wordless and silent; awaiting for whatever explanations you could give him and you couldn't help but ask in a skeptical manner; bizarrely gasping for his seriousness.

"Wait, you're actually---stop giving me a scowl! I never had...one? He's a Lord of the Rings character and I swear to God, he is fictional---Not real! Though, he looks like you because the hair and such---but---" you've jumped from one thought to another, feeling the scrutiny under his gaze and obviously nervous that he appeared to look like he would grab his sword and look for the man to behead him. Though, it will never happen due that Legolas was entirely fictitious to even start.

You ceased yourself from trying to explain the background story of Legolas for Geralt. Your nerves getting the best of you whenever you were being interrogated. An exhale of breath escaped your lips as you took a good look at the grimacing witcher before witlessly reaching onto his face with your palms on either side of his chiseled face as you gave him your best doe-eyes, sweetly trying not to coo at how his brooding demeanor actually makes him look fetching nevertheless.

"Stop being mad at me," you buttered his silence up with a tender tone of yours and the way he scrunched his nose and appeared to be looking bizarre tells you that your sweet-talking was cringe-worthy because of how you probably never knew how to simmer a man's troubled day.

Or he was just not used to gentleness.

You've retracted your hands away from Geralt's face and tried your best in avoiding those questioning and bemused eyes of his as you abruptly stood on your feet, shamefully rubbing your nape as you had yourself wincing from the second hand embarrassment of treating Geralt like he was some soft baby, reminding yourself to never do it again, "I am embarrassing myself,"

At the time you've stood up, Geralt also has been on one's feet. He didn't mean to look at you weirdly as you've cupped his face with that tender gaze inside your eyes. When the moment your delicate fingers brushed his, he felt as if he was in utopia. The man wasn't just used to intimate touches especially your caresses that felt like Gossamer.

Geralt just wasn't used to people treating him like he was actually human instead of someone who deserved to be treated differently.

Only Renfri, Yennefer and you had this effect on him. Though, with yours seemed to be much stronger.

Your panicking state urged you to flee from his presence, but the witcher wasn't going to let you go that easily as he'd caught your wrist; gently pulling you as your back hit the wall. Both hands and fingers scooping your neck like a baby chicken he'd caught and decided to take care of as his his warm touch skimmed till his thumbs brushed against your jaw, carefully urging you to peer up into those amiable gazes he successfully tries to give.

"I'm not mad." he dearly reassured, his small smile bringing your heart into euphoria because he was much more beautiful this way; smiling as if the world hasn't condemned him with an ill-fate of being a witcher.

Your beams were difficult to fight off; immediately giving him a smile as he also did as well. Chiefly, only giving you the sight of his crinkled eyes. His thumbs tenderly caressing your jaw which coaxed you to calm down from being fidgety which was totally a good medicine because your nervous jitters actually ceased with just his gentle touches.

You've grabbed onto his hand, memorizing his soft features as it was ever been a rare sight. Never believing he was acting the way he right now towards you. Your fingers brushing against his hands like a feather tickling the witcher's sanity.

Before another utter cockblocker slash disturbance came trudging up the staircase and somehow found you both in an heartfelt position; with Geralt cradling your face like no other.

"Oh! Ughm, this is a rare sight." Jaskier ceased his steps, midway through the hall, the bard's growing grin seeming to give you jitters as his ridicule began, "---and the small rat has been sexually frustrated, Geralt!"

You just wanted to strangle him sometimes.

"Cot damn it, Jaskier! SHUT UP!" you exclaimed, totally flustered as Geralt dropped his hands to the side; looking between you and Jaskier in ponder; those eyes of his full of curiosity, "You're...?"

"I AM NOT FEELING SMUTTY!"

If only you could dig and cover yourself up from the embarrassment, you would.

"---Smutty."

"You get my point, Geralt! I know you do!"

Geralt had his forehead in a tight wrinkle, thoroughly thinking what you meant; though, he understood none because the word seem to be peculiar, "Midget."

Jaskier exhaled an exasperated breath, dramatically rolling his eyes as he waved you both off and curved right pass between the both of you, entering his chambers to grab onto some clothes because he wanted to bathe.

The bard pointed a finger as he walked off, his hips swaying as he does so and never looking back, "She needs some nightly penetrating! You're welcome, witcher!"

Geralt watched Jaskier leave, an amused pucker of his lips was the answer to your questions that he certainly understood everything now and cocked his head to the side, peering you down as he awaited for an explanation. Yet, all he saw was you covering your blushing face with a guilty, forced smile as you washed your face in frustration to give him your regretful eyes.

"Don't listen to him," you quoted and begged for him to just take the bait.

Nevertheless, you've seen him raise a hand; about to start talking about being one horny woman for him when you've stopped him midway and tried to shift the topic away, "Anyways, I forgive you, Geralt. Now, can I braid your hair?"

The witcher closed his ajar mouth, humming in wonder as he dropped his hand to the side; narrowing his gaze at you, "I wasn't asking for any of your forgiveness."

You've blinked back at him, jutting your lips together as you looked away, tone teasing and slightly threatening, "You sure that's your final answer? No regrets?"

Geralt roughly puffed out a breath, muttering profanities beneath his chest, "Fuck." and another grunt because he'd remember how he still wasn't forgiven by yelling at you for last night, "---Fine. Do I have a choice?"

Your smile turned into a knavish grin, wanting him to regret why he even agreed to whatever plans you have for him as you bluntly answered.

"No."

The one you had in mind, planning for a simple diversion for Geralt to erase the horrid truth that Jaskier has told out loud for him to hear was actually another rabbit hole that had caught your feet, catching you going far down the pit like you have been scammed. Clearly, because Geralt's unwitting deep groans and hums has made you hot and bothered every time you've tried combing his hair along his snowy locks.

You were wincing every time he has his nose flaring whenever your fingers thread along his hair, the knots giving his head a rough yank from how you were trying to untangle those knots.

Geralt sat on the floor; his arms on either side of the bed. With you who sat on the bed and your legs criss-cross behind his impressive, thewy back; tempted to just give him a big hug because he seemed so comforting but chose not to based on how grouchy he became once you've combed his hair with your fingers.

You didn't even know if he was irritated or somehow liking the whole situation because he was deeply growling, groaning and eventually having to hear a slip of guttural, restrained whimpers that caught your ears. Enlivening that cravings and curiosity you had for some human touch.

"Midget..." he grumbled another complain and lowly warned, hearing the baritone growl he'd ought for you to hear which made you ignore his protests as you had your own protestations as well, "Stop complaining. Also, don't you own a comb? Your hair---It's---Oh! I'm sorry! Can you please stop growling and moaning at the same time!"

His head was minimally pulled back because of your reckless combing. Your nose scrunched even more as you'd received another menacing hum that tells he was close to hitting your face with a pillow because of how rough you were taking care of his hair. It's not that you weren't rough, but the locks in his hair was frustrating you to the highest.

"Hmm."

You subtly leaned down, sneaking your head to the side of his face to see his expressions void of emotions. The typical Geralt whom you've met as he felt your presence nearer, he'd turned his head to give you a lackadaisical look in his eyes that tells that you were stressing him out.

Your eyes twinkled apologetically as you had no problem in receiving a glare from the fussed out witcher. "Well, that sounds like a displeased hum," you stated as a matter of fact, shrugging your shoulders before straightening your spine and grabbing onto his Ivory roots again, "---and a different kind as well,"

He sighed in defeated, letting you handle his hair in spite as he simply closed his eyes. There was no more backing out as he was now sat in front of you, hair all untied as you've threatened to cut his hair with a scissor you've managed to have that was sat beside you.

"Bad kitty! You're liking this, aren't you? You like your hair being pulled!"

No answer was received and you left it at that. Thinking that maybe he wanted silence as you went on with brushing his hair with your fingers. Now, all gentle as the tangles were already free from the knots. It was certainly improvement; in Geralt's side because he stopped complaining after you scolded him so and quietly waited for you to finish; showing like he trusted you with his hair or whatever.

With a gentle tuck of his hair behind his ears, the witcher was all putty on your hands. Hearing a low rumble that resonated off him in pleasure and satisfaction because of how your touch was sending torment to the cravings he had for you.

Hence, his patience and respect he had for not throwing you over the bed and just relishing in with those insatiable desires he had for you needed and deserved an applause because of his high-capacity to resist the mania.

His appetite was surely in a famished mayhem as he breathed in slow and deep, your gentle touches that raked through his roots and his cravings growing more and more uncontrollable with each passing day and night.

Maybe, the scar you had on your chest had effects. Lewd effects for the both of you.

After minutes of comfortable---well, aching moments for Geralt; you've heard him mutter through gritted teeth in the midst of his slow breathing, "I'm not a cat."

You were already at the ends of his Ivory hair, simply braiding them in perfection as you objected, "But, you are! My grumpy kitty!"

There was no response again and you focused on braiding his marvelous hair and let the silence flow. You were actually just hearing him breath as it also calmed your nerves; a bewildering occurrence on how one's breathing could simply put you in peace.

You've grabbed onto his black ponytail which seemed to be owned by Cirilla and tightly tied onto the ends. Small hairs that seemed to not be possible in tying them down were imperfectly out of its nest; though, the ruggish effect it gave was actually making it look perfect for him.

"There! Done!" you mirthfully exclaimed, giving out a tiny tee-hee before you recklessly surrounded your arms around his musclebound shoulders. The irresistible urges just telling you to cease from being shy even just for today and be more of your unshackled self; stepping out of your timid borders every once in a while. It surprised the witcher with your touchy-feely attitude as his body went stiff when you've embraced him from behind, "See? I told you! You'll still look beautiful with your hair braided! Now, payment time, mister!"

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, clicking his tongue as he tried to find any words to say from your hasty, sweet gestures while he was not one who is used to receiving such care. Geralt had no words to say, his mind going in a haywire as he suddenly saw your palms in front of his face, begging like a peasant with your face nuzzled to his side as he weirdly stared at your palm.

"You want coins?" he skeptically questioned, your warmth and scent crashing his ability to think straight. You've dropped your arm around his shoulders, your actions seeming to surprise you as well but you paid no heed and just wanted him closer; his warmth insatiable as you hugged Geralt tighter. Your warm touches giving his body to adjust and be used to it as you felt him slowly relaxing against your hold.

You peeked from the side of his face, giving him a twinkle of those vindicated eyes as he languidly turned his head to see you giving such a naive look that he couldn't help but be fond of everyday. If it would take his hair to be braided for you to sweetly look at him like how you do right now; he would take the risk on letting his hair get yanked, "I don't know. Whatever payment you have in mind---I would love it,"

Faces were inches apart. You've seen the way his eyes glow in sudden mischief. His risquè suggestion making your heart warm in a way that got your ravenousness fueled as your face felt the blush and sudden excitement, "The one I have in mind is quite unseemly for your chastity,"

You gave a giggle, always loving how he'd intensely stare into your eyes like you've given light to his darkness; that type of glow inside his eyes that got your insides churning whenever he does, "Aren't you playful and naughty today, Geralt?!"

Geralt gave a tight-lipped smile; knowing you wouldn't accept his ravenous suggestion because of particular things he knew about. The witcher knew he wasn't wrong, he can never be wrong by what he was sensing.

However, a rare smirk was promptly shown, the ingenuous flicker inside your eyes changing in just a snap of one's fingers as it turned suggestive and playful, "What if I actually want that?"

It was what your heart wants and what those voices inside your head has been whispering. The mere idea of Geralt defiling your chastity that you have been treasuring because no other men deserved was utterly thrilling and worth it.

Not because of the thought that he was striking, but he was the only man you've wholeheartedly trusted and probably have given your heart like he was a king no matter how unsure of what you were in his life.

Closer and closer, you went in for the kill. Just his golden peepers alone was enough to pull you into a hypnotizing trance as you closed the space between you both, landing your lips to his in a soft, birdsweet peck that got you insides melting and the desire rapidly coming back in scorching flames, "I thought you wanted to indulge my curiosity all night long?"

Your words were temptingly drawled slower as your warm breath hit those ajar lips of his, an impenetrable haze in his eyes that suddenly brought uncertainty to what Geralt actually meant the last time you had the bathroom moment, your sudden confidence kind of wavering but still you've wanted to see how he was fond of you the way you also had your affections for him, "When I told you I was curious, it’s true, Geralt."

You've brushed your lips together and felt the witcher sigh before you had given one last honeyed kiss to his lips in which Geralt had puckered back, raising your hopes that he was solicitous about you.

'More,' his consciousness and emotions echoed, kissing you back with the same tenderness you held for him. He seemed like he was about to deepen the kiss; breathing through his luscious lips before you've felt the pillowy vermillion brush against yours as he abruptly ceased, hearing him lowly growl as he kept the tip of his nose, touching yours in an eskimo kiss before slowly pulling away to your disappointment.

The hesitation of wanting to deepen the kiss shot a sting to your heart; your overthinking self reading his actions that you've misunderstood his feelings that it was downright doting because you were head over heels for him after quite sometime.

But, hearing his next words immediately brought a weight down your chest, feeling the ineptness, dismay and shame for even suggesting lechorous behaviors that made you feel shameful because you think that it was rejected; thinking he rejected you.

He bedded tons of women. So, what makes you different?

You probably just weren't worth it.

"You don't mean that," Geralt lowly grumbled, his robust shoulders moving from how deeply he was breathing; ceasing himself from doing anything more further as the witcher continued to dispassionately utter, "---I don't deserve it,"

You hardly ignored the shame trying to strangle you into feeling such tightness around your throat as you unlatched your arms around his shoulders, skeptically eyeing the witcher who avoided your eyes, "What do you mean you don't deserve it, Geralt? You do,"

Were you desperate? Was the irresistible sensations making you act this way? Maybe. Howbeit, you would never regret every little thing you do for Geralt because it was what your heart has been telling you to do and not just your impulsive decisions.

Yet, the more he'd talk; it felt like as if the only thing you would regret was asking him what he meant.

Geralt heavily swallowed, jaw tightening as he apathetically muttered, "I'm guessing it's the Djinn's work that is talking,"

His response to your question ignited such ferocity inside your heart, shooting straight to your mouth as you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Did you misunderstood everything he has said when you were important to him? Deeply thinking that him and you were actually in the same page when his gestures and words right now seem to be the opposite?

"Are you saying that what I feel about you isn't true?" you questioned in disbelief. The scoff automatically being done as you've seen the tight scowl that Geralt has managed to put up again, "---That it's all...magic? The thing happening between us?"

You've tightly bit the insides of your cheeks, watching him stay silent and cease from opening up to you as he went on in avoiding your gaze and looking like he was the one who'd been rejected when it was you.

Thus, a continuation of your vulnerability went on despite of his stillness, your honesty probably will rue once it was said and done, "---before the Djinn even happened, you've been clouding my mind since then," a breathless pause. "---Since the first day I've been here, it felt like I was bound to fall for you, Probably, because the reason why I'm here is because...you are also here,"

Your candor has gotten the best of you and when Geralt was about to open his mouth for whatever that he wanted to say, your anxiety has managed to take over as you stood up from the bed in haste, feeling your palms tickle in humility from how everything that has been planned went down the hill because you misunderstood everything.

"Midget---"

You tightly swallowed the tightness stuck in your throat, finally feeling his gaze on you but you chose to look away; eyes now downcast as your toes fidgeted inside your boots, voice cracking when the apprehension was starting to take a toll as it was harshly plucking with your heart strings, "It's fine. We're just probably not on the same page yet and I understand why. Who would want me even?"

Geralt has been ruffled by your sudden assumptions, yet he chose to stay silent and be upset by whatever lies he'd been hearing; only having the actions to grit his teeth together as you restlessly tried your best to steer clear of your own dismayed feelings.

You shuffled on your feet, briskly walking towards the door before giving him a faltering gaze of yours as you awkwardly pointed at his perfectly braided hair while you stammered and tried to get a hold of yourself from the mortifying, stinging shame, "It's probably just...the genie effects doing these effects on me---I'll go apologize to Jaskier or something---Don't take that off, okay?!"

Hence, Geralt could only watch you leave as it was obvious that he'd upset you by his complicated behavior. Thus, leaving his heart stinging as well; feeling the same way as you.

Y’ALL ARE PROLLY CURSING ME FOR MAKING AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER 13.1 AHONHONHONHON XD (Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you, buddy! Please do check your settings, bb! Thank you!)

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @covid-donotenter @winter-moons @cheesecakeisapie @silverkitten547 @angelofthorr @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum @stuckupstucky

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kirishibi · 4 years ago

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Nights Like These | Kirishima Ejirou

Summary: You’re having a rough night struggling with your anxiety and your long time crush, Kirishima, helps you through it

Pairing: Kirishima Ejirou x Reader

Warnings: pretty vivid and possibly triggering descriptions of the physical symptoms and racing thoughts that come with an anxiety attack, non-established relationship, pining, lots of Kiri comfort, so much fluff, very very mild cursing, spoilers abt Kirishima’s backstory, (y/n)’s pretty shy in this one oops

**this fic has a lottt of comfort and fluff in it after the first quarter, but if descriptions of anxiety are triggering for you please read with caution and skip over bits if needed**

Word Count: 2.8k

a/n: chef actually writing for once??? unheard of. anyway, i was struggling really hard this week, so i wrote some kiri comfort because who doesn’t want this sweet boi to hold ur hand and tell you everything’s gonna be okay when it feels like the world’s falling apart.i legit wrote this while crying bruv if any one of my fics is a window to my soul its this one

It began with that all-too-familiar pit of dread in your stomach, an uncomfortable rush of adrenaline in your upper chest that you desperately tried to force away. Trembling fingertips, wobbling knees, the sudden urge to crawl out of your own skin. All you did was get tongue-tied while chatting with Bakugou and a few of his friends, but your fumbled words wouldn’t stop echoing through your skull, the angry blond’s mocking gaze replaying over and over again in your mind.

You barely made it to your dorm before shards of your shattered confidence gathered to form a lump in your throat, and tears stung at the corners of your eyes. You threw open the door to your room, hastily swung it shut as you entered. As heavy wood slammed into its frame, a jarring bang echoed throughout the hallway outside. You physically cringed, brows knitting together and nose scrunching in disgust at your own actions.

Damn it, you thought to yourself, everyone heard that, and now they’re all pissed at you.

This happened more times than you could count: one minor mistake drudged up what seemed like hundreds of embarrassing memories from your past, and in a matter of minutes you knew you’d wind up a sobbing mess on your bedroom floor, gasping for air, convinced that the only thing you’re truly good at is being a burden.

There was a dam inside your mind; one that held all of your regrets, self-loathing thoughts, and most embarrassing memories. The multitude of cracks in its foundation threatened to give with every little thing you deemed a screw-up, and in that moment, the dam broke.

A half-complete exam sat before you. Your left leg nervously bounced beneath your desk as a pencil twirled between the nimble fingers of your dominant hand. The eraser of your pencil caught on the surface of your desk mid-twirl, causing the utensil to fling from your grasp. It arched through the air and thumped the boy seated in front of you, Ojiro, right between his shoulder blades. No amount of rambled apologies from you, nor sincere ’it’s okay!’s from the kind-hearted blond could stop that moment from searing itself into your memory. Just another reason you should never leave your room again.

Sinking into an unmade bed, you pulled your knees up to your chest. Feeble arms hugged your legs tightly as you desperately tried to shake the unpleasant thoughts from your own brain. “No,” you pleaded with yourself, “no, (Y/n), you’re not doing this again.” Fingernails dug into soft flesh beneath your school uniform’s knee-high socks, a momentary distraction from the sheer panic swelling inside your chest. Forehead pressed against bent knees, you hoped that if you made yourself small enough, maybe you could disappear entirely.

Accidentally interrupting someone during a conversation, tripping over your own feet while walking down the hall, getting anxious speaking to your redheaded crush and forgetting what you wanted to say altogether.

You couldn’t help but gasp for air, the angry burning of your lungs only worsening with every shallow breath as hot tears trailed down the sides of your face. There was no stopping the sobs that pushed past your lips, nor the self loathing thoughts that racked your brain. You pressed your back firmly against the cool drywall beside your bed with the vain hope that the sudden chill may keep you grounded.

Nearly spitting out your tea as Kaminari cracked a joke during lunch, not realizing you took someone else’s seat in the common room, bumping into an elderly woman on the train, dropping a handful of textbooks in front of your entire class.

A knock on the door momentarily pulled you from what seemed to be an inescapable frenzy of thoughts. You stumbled to your feet, stole a glance in the mirror beside your bed. Reluctant to allow someone else to see your puffy, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, you forced yourself to speak up, “uh- uhm,” your voice wavered with every word, but you cleared your throat and continued on, “I-I’m sorry, now isn’t really a good time.”

“Aw,” a familiar voice pouted from the other side, muffled by the wall between you, “well, think ya could let me in anyway?” It was Kirishima, the guy you’d been head-over-heels for since the beginning of your freshman year.

You refused to let him see you so disheveled, couldn’t bear the thought of willingly adding another embarrassing moment to your catalogue of painful memories.

“I’m sorry, I- well,” you wanted to lie, to make up an excuse as to why you couldn’t answer the door, but nothing came to mind. “I just can’t talk right now. Do you need something?”

“Yep! It’s really urgent, can’t wait another second!” He eagerly pleaded, and you just couldn’t find the will to say no.

Hastily drying your wet face with creased sleeves and fixing your hair to the best of your ability, you made your way to the door and cautiously inched it open.

The crimson haired boy stood before you with a box of your favorite candy in his hands and a warm smile on his face. His brows were knit together in concern, tender eyes wholly trained on you. He glanced both ways down the vacant hallway to ensure that no one was within earshot before speaking in a hushed tone, “you didn’t seem like yourself in class today. Like, you were quieter than usual, and then Bakugou was a bit of an ass earlier...“ He nodded to the cardboard container in his hands, “I’ve seen you eat this before and it always seems to put a smile on your face, so I thought maybe it could do the same today too.” His grin faltered for a moment, gaze dropping to the floor as if embarrassed by his own words. “It’s stupid, I know, but I had to do somethin’!”

Despite your best efforts, the happy facade you’d forced on for Kirishima fell, and your eyes welled with tears once again. Your bottom lip trembled as you tried to swallow the lump crawling up your throat. His gaze shifted from the floor, back up to meet yours, and he nearly dropped the container in his hands at the sight of you so close to crying.

Without a second thought, he threw his arms around your shoulders in a tight hug, “What’s wrong, (Y/n)?” His voice filled with worry, further breaking your heart, “Did I get the wrong kind of candy?”

“N-no,” you whimpered into his shoulder, unable to finish before the words caught in your mouth and tears wet the thin cotton of his shirt . Your arms wrapped around his waist, unconsciously reciprocating his hug. His warmth reminded you of just how long it had been since you’d let someone be so close. Your knees buckled under the weight of your own grief, and before you knew it, Kirishima was scooping you up into his strong arms. He carried you to the comfort of your bed, kicking the door closed as he passed.

“I knew you weren’t okay,” he muttered into your ear, tone much softer than you were used to from the boisterous man. He carefully set you down on your plush mattress, grabbed the nearest blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders, then knelt on the floor before you.

“I’m f-fine,” you forced out, trying to steady your voice but failing horribly, “You can go if you wa-want. I don't want to-”

Kirishima silenced you with a tender palm rested atop your own. “I’m not leaving you, (Y/n). Whatever’s going on, I care about you too much to make you deal with it alone.”

Up until then, you had made it a point to keep your anxiety hidden from your peers. You worried that they would treat you differently if they knew, that they wouldn’t quite understand. But, something about Kirishima told you that he was different, that nothing would change if you opened up to him. Regardless of your fears, the look in his eyes and tender cadence of his voice made you feel safe, like it was okay to be vulnerable.

“I,” your eyes flicked from your lap to meet his worried gaze, “I can’t help but remember everything I’ve done wrong over the years and just hate myself. I hate every mistake, every failure, every moment I did something dumb and didn’t know how to fix it.” Your stomach clenched as yet another sob forced its way past your lips. “I have so many regrets, and I constantly feel like an awful person because of them.”

A calloused thumb brushed along your upper cheek, wiping away the tracks of fallen tears. He nodded along as you vented, as if he understood exactly where you were coming from. Then, when you went silent, he waited for a few beats to ensure you were entirely finished speaking before responding. “I’m sure it doesn’t seem like it, but I used to be someone I’m not proud of either, and, honestly? Sometimes I still don’t like the person I see in the mirror.” He paused for a moment, lips pulled in a thin, contemplative line before continuing, “can you keep a secret?”

You nodded, surprised and mildly confused by his words. Could someone as confident and lovable as Kirishima really struggle with the same anxieties that you did?

He chuckled at the quizzical look you gave him, took a deep breath to steady his own nerves. “So, I actually didn’t look like this back in middle school -- hold up, I think I actually have a picture.” Five fingers flexed around your own, holding you close as his free hand fished into his pants pocket and pulled out a red-cased phone. Within a few seconds, ruby eyes were locked with your own once again, a shy smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Promise not to laugh?”

The redhead’s grin was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile with him. Your worries hadn’t been entirely forgotten, but with every word spoken between you, every passing second with his fingers entwined with your own, a subtle calm began to wash over you. “I’ll try not to,” you responded. That seemed good enough for him, and with only a short moment of hesitation, Kirishima turned the phone’s screen toward you to reveal a photo of himself from a few years before.

Long, black hair framed a round face, slender shoulders slumped and eyes downcast as he stood alone in the courtyard of what you assumed to be his old middle school. Your head cocked to the side, brows furrowed in disbelief as you looked from the photo to the person in front of you. For a moment, you thought he must have been kidding. The muscular, seemingly self-assured man that knelt before you didn’t resemble the boy on his phone in the slightest. “You’re serious? That was you?”

He nodded, clearly amused by your reaction. You wanted to ask what changed, how he pulled such a total one-eighty, but couldn’t find a way to without sounding rude.

He seemed to read your mind, though, and answered your question without hesitation. “I realized that I didn’t like the person I was, and vowed to be better.” He powered off the device in his hand and tossed it aside, attention entirely back to you, thumb unconsciously caressing the back of your hand as he continued. “I’m not telling you this because I think you need to change. Frankly,” his eyes darted to the floor, voice lowering nearly to a whisper, “I, uh, I really like the person you are now.” He cleared his throat, a pink tinge dusting his cheeks as his gaze flicked back up to meet yours. “I’m telling you this because, like I said before, I’m like you in a way. I can’t help but cringe when I remember the way I used to be, and I still worry sometimes that I haven’t actually changed that much.”

“But you have. I mean, you’re a completely different person now.”

“Exactly. Here’s what I’ve learned: if you cringe at something you did in the past, that’s probably because you’ve matured enough to know you were being dumb back then. Being able to look at your past self and recognize your mistakes means you aren’t that person anymore.” His other hand moved to rest atop your knee, as if he wanted to hold you closer but found himself hesitant.

You felt a weight lift from your shoulders at his words, yet still one question continued to gnaw at the back of your mind. “But, what if I’m beating myself up something I did recently… like,” your voice lowered in embarrassment, “when I a-accidentally threw that pencil at Ojiro, for example…”

“I promise, you’re the only one who even remembers that.” Kirishima chuckled softly, “you’re sweet for worrying about those little things, but no one worth knowing is gonna judge you off small mistakes. I know how great you are, and so does everyone else in our class. You light up every room you walk into, I swear. It’s like you’ve got a second quirk or somethin’.” You giggled, and his smile only grew wider. “I mean it! How could anyone not fall in love with that laugh?” The boy’s face turned bright red, eyes widening in realization at what he had said, grip tightening around your own. “Shit, I mean- well-” he cut himself off, sharp teeth nervously nibbling on his bottom lip.

His words resonated with you, filled the anxious pit in your stomach with warm butterflies and heated your cheeks with a rosey blush. Still, you convinced yourself he was only embarrassed because his words had come out in a different way than he had meant them. There was no way he actually had feelings for you, you thought. He was clearly just being nice. “I-It’s okay, I know you don’t like me like that. You’re way out of my league, anyway.” You forced a nervous laugh, attempting to comfort him through words that burned as they passed your lips.

You thought he’d relax at what you had said, agree with your comment, and thank you for understanding. Instead, he rose to his feet, a look of bewilderment in his eyes as he pulled you up to stand with him. “Do you really think that?” He questioned, expression twisted in disbelief, hurt by your self-deprecating words. His hands gripped yours tightly as you stood only inches from one another. Heat radiated off of his tan skin, shielding you from the chilly air of your room and prickling your arms with goosebumps.

“Sorry to break it to ya, but you couldn’t be more wrong.” Kirishima lightly tugged you closer, closed the distance between your bodies without a second thought. You allowed your chest to press against his, listening carefully as he continued, “I was afraid of making you uncomfortable or scaring you off, so I didn’t say anything before. But, if that’s really what you think, I’ve gotta set you straight. Truth is, I’m absolutely crazy for you, (Y/n). I mean, you’re cute, and sweet, and witty -- It’s impossible to take my eyes off of you whenever we’re in a room together, and just hearing your voice makes me feel warm all over.”

Calloused fingers released one of your hands, traveled up to caress a now-dry cheek. He cracked another sharp-toothed grin at the realization that you were no longer crying. “Can you do me a favor and tell me next time you start to feel all anxious and stuff again? Regardless of if you like me back, I just want to be there for you, whatever you need. It’s not very manly to fall for a girl, then leave her hangin’ when she needs ya the most.”

An eager nod in agreement was all you could manage for a long moment as you stood entirely awestruck by his confession. All you wanted was to find your voice, to tell him how much his efforts meant to you, but the words refused to come.

So, you did the next best thing.

The box of candies he had brought as a pick-me-up laid forgotten on your bed as tentative fingers gripped Kirishima’s broad shoulders and you rose onto your tiptoes. Without allowing yourself time for hesitation, you pressed pursed lips to a flushed-pink cheek. It wasn’t a large gesture, but in that moment it felt perfect.

You’d never seen Ejirou smile as wide as he did in that moment, strong hands firmly gripping your waist as you pulled away -- as if to make sure that you wouldn’t stray too far from his grasp. “That settles it then! Tomorrow I’m asking you out properly -- with flowers, and chocolates, and way more than just one box of your favorite sweets… but you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That we’ll take care of one another. I’ll never judge you, hurt you, or belittle whatever you’re struggling with, as long as you promise the same to me, okay? From now on ‘til the end of time, I’ve got your back unconditionally, and you’ve got mine. Promise?”

“Promise.”

#kirishima ejirou #no beta we die like men #kirishima #kirishima bnha #kirishima fluff #kirishima x reader #ejirou kirishima x reader #hurt/comfort #anxiety help #kiri writes #trigger warning: anxiety #fluff #bnha fluff #kiri gives good advice from my therapist #anyway #pls forgive me if this isnt that good #its been months since ive written a full fic #lub u be good to urself #its 4 am forgive me for typos and goodnight

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ibijau · 4 years ago

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Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Jin Zixuan, without meaning to, seems to have acquired a friend.

Out of everything they learn in the Cloud Recesses, Jin Zixuan finds etiquette lessons to be the most useless. He knows how to conduct himself. Unlike some people, his parents made sure to properly educate him even before he came to this place. In fact, early on he wrote to his mother so she would request that he be excused from etiquette lessons. She answered that since he is so wise already, she expects him to have perfect grades in that subject, or else.

With that threat still in mind, Jin Zixuan pays extra attention to the lecture today, never once looking away from Lan Qiren. This is helped by the fact that there's nobody to pester him today, since Nie Huaisang is sitting near Jiang Cheng at the moment. Good for him. Jin Zixuan doesn't want to deal with him anyway, not after being stood up yesterday.

Not that Jin Zixuan cares about that. He never actually agreed when Nie Huaisang announced he'd be dropping by the Jin cabin after his much reviled weekly meeting with Lan Xichen. In fact, Jin Zixuan explicitly told the other boy not to bother. And so, Nie Huaisang didn't come. Which is good. It's about time Nie Huaisang learned to respect boundaries.

Too bad boundaries make for boring days.

The morning lecture drags on and on and on. Jin Zixuan thinks he can see movement coming from the direction where Nie Huaisang is sitting, and he's almost sure he hears his name called out once in a loud whisper, but he ignores that. He's not this desperate for attention, and some people here are serious, diligent students.

When finally they are freed for lunch, Jin Zixuan doesn't even have time to rise up before Nie Huaisang flops onto his desk with a pout.

"Jin-xiong, didn't you see me waving at you earlier?"

"I didn't. I was listening to Master Lan."

"Liar," Nie Huaisang accuses with a grin, stretching like a cat over the desk. "I watched you, you were almost falling asleep. Jin-xiong, are you angry at me for yesterday? It's not my fault you know, stuff happened. I'll tell you about it while we go to lunch. I am so cross at Lan Xichen!"

"You always are," Jin Zixuan retorts. "Isn't this your day with Jiang gongzi anyway?"

It's not a formal arrangement, but usually Nie Huaisang alternates between spending time with Jiang Cheng on one day, and pestering Jin Zixuan the other. Yesterday should have been Jin Zixuan's day, so today ought to be Jiang Cheng's. It's not a bad system, though it reminds Jin Zixuan of home in ways he doesn't quite like.

Nie Huaisang shrugs and fiddles with his fan, glaring at Jiang Cheng who is leaving with the other boys of his sect.

"Since there's a test coming, he said he wants to study," he grumbles. "Grades don't even really matter! I swear, he's too serious. And I have no intention to be serious whatsoever, so I'm going to stay with you this afternoon. You're not planning on studying, right?"

"Maybe I am."

"Then I'll have to convince you otherwise," Nie Huaisang retorts, grabbing Jin Zixuan's arm by the elbow and pulling him up as he rises.

Resistance is futile. Nie Huaisang is surprisingly strong, even though he's shorter than anyone in their class. Jin Zixuan tries to at least get his arm back, in vain. They are still elbow to elbow as they start walking toward the dining halls.

"So, did it go badly with Lan Xichen yesterday?" Jin Zixuan asks, even though he knows that he's exposing himself to a three hours lecture on everything that's hateful about Lan Xichen. He's not concerned about what might have pushed Nie Huaisang to cancel their plans without warning, just… curious.

"I don't even want to talk about it," Nie Huaisang sighs. "He was almost nice at first, you know. I mean, actually nice, like a real person. He smiled!"

"Isn't he always smiling?"

"A real smile! A human smile, like he was happy to chat! And I almost had fun!"

"How dreadful," Jin Zixuan mutters, rolling his eyes. "You, having fun with your own fiancé. I can't imagine what that's like."

"Watch what you say," Nie Huaisang warns.

Jin Zixuan grimaces and nods. It has been made clear to him that he's allowed to complain about his now dropped engagement in general, but cannot say anything against Jiang Yanli personally. Nie Huaisang is rarely serious, but Jin Zixuan has a feeling that for this, he would be.

"So we were very nearly having fun," Nie Huaisang resumes as they get close to the dining halls. "But then I tried to help him paint something, and so I took his hand, and I swear, you’d think a worm had fallen on his hand. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more disgusted. Can you believe that? I know he doesn’t like me, but that was rude.”

“Did he say he was disgusted?”

“Oh, you should have seen his face. No doubt possible. What else could it have been, anyway?”

Jin Zixuan doesn’t answer right away. What else, indeed?

Last time Jin Zixuan visited Lotus Piers with his mother, Jiang Yanli noticed a scratch on his hand, from sparring a little too intensely with her little brother. It was nothing big, but she’d seen it anyway and, as if it had been the most natural thing in the world, she had taken his hand to inspect it and offered to clean it. Her fingers had been gentle, and her voice soothing, and she’d seemed genuinely worried for him, so of course Jin Zixuan had panicked. He had pushed her away, saying something about his cultivation being more than good enough that such a small wound didn’t matter to him like it would have mattered to her. His tone must have been really bad because she had cried, and then her idiot brothers had run to the rescue, and everything had been such a huge mess that Jin Zixuan had come out of it more convinced than ever that he hated that whole family.

All because Jiang Yanli was nice to him, and he never knew how to handle that.

He wonders if Lan Xichen too is the sort to panic. It doesn’t seem likely, everyone always praises his calm, but honestly Jin Zixuan has heard the same thing said about himself. He knows the worth of people's praises of an influential young master.

“Maybe he likes you and was secretly flustered,” Jin Zixuan hazards.

Without surprise, Nie Huaisang starts laughing at the suggestion, a little too loud for the dining halls which they’ve just reached. It attracts the attention of a few Lans, including Lan Xichen himself who stares at them with a blank face. Since he has a sense of propriety, unlike some people, Jin Zixuan tries to free himself from Nie Huaisang’s hold. It still doesn’t work. Nie Huaisang keeps him close, which probably should annoy him more than it does, and pulls him toward some empty seats. Only then does Nie Huaisang finally let go of his elbow.

“I miss eating real food,” Nie Huaisang says, pouting at their meal of rice, boiled vegetables, and bitter soup.

“Sometimes I think I’m forgetting the taste of meat,” Jin Zixuan agrees, poking at the cabbage in his bowl before making an effort and eating it.

It’s exactly as tasteless as he expected. He’s used to the rich, heavy foods of Carp Tower, and these few months in the Cloud Recesses have been a torture.

“We should go to Gusu one afternoon,” Nie Huaisang suggests, making no effort to eat anything. No wonder he’s so small if he’d rather starve than swallow something he doesn’t like. “It’s been a while, and if we fly, we can be there for dinner and still get back before curfew.”

“Don’t you hate flying?”

“I do. But for a chance to eat something that actually has a taste, I’d even crawl,” Nie Huaisang mutters. “I miss the food from home. Our cook makes that soup in winter, it’s the best thing ever. It’s just so good, there are no words. You’ll see when you come visit.”

“Who said I’d come?” Jin Zixuan protests.

Nie Huaisang laughs, still too loud for this place, and forces himself to bite a piece of mushroom.

“Of course you’ll come, and we’ll have a ton of fun. Qinghe is the best place in the world, and we have the best food in the world, you’ll love it. And Carp Tower isn’t very far, it’d be easy. Jiang Cheng has promised already that he’ll come with Wei Wuxian, and they’re much further away. If they can come, so can you.”

“Telling me they’ll be there does not make it very appealing,” Jin Zuxian points out.

“I’m not stupid, I won’t let you come at the same time. Not until I’ve gotten all of you to get along,” Nie Huaisang threatens.

At least, it feels like a threat to Jin Zixuan. He doesn’t think Nie Huaisang could manage that, because Jin Zixuan believes the Jiang boys are two horrid little beasts with no respect who need to have manners beaten into them, while they’ve made it clear they're convinced he’s stuck up and boring. There’s just no common ground to be found.

Then again, not long ago Jin Zixuan wouldn’t have thought he’d ever have common ground with Nie Huaisang either.

“I’ll have to see if my father allows it,” Jin Zixuan conceded. “If he does, I might visit you.”

“And if he doesn’t, then I’ll be the one coming to Carp Tower,” Nie Huaisang retorts. “I bet there’s a lot of fun to be had there too.”

“I didn’t invite you.”

“I’m inviting myself. Come on, Jin-xiong. I’m the funniest person you know. Of course you’ll want to see me again after this. Who else can you chat with? Jin Zixun?”

Jin Zixuan huffs in disdain at the idea. His cousin is a tolerable companion for Night Hunts, and because they’re so closely related they’ve always spent a lot of time together, but they only mildly get along. If they had any other choice of friends, Jin Zixuan is sure they’d have fallen apart long ago.

They might, now that Jin Zixuan does have someone whose company he does enjoy, even if he’s reluctant to admit as much. And if Nie Huaisang comes, they can visit bookstores to hunt for poetry, peruse his home's vast library and gardens, or go visit the goldsmiths and cloth merchants of Lanling.

It’s not an unpleasant thought.

Maybe Jin Zixuan will write to his father, asking both to be allowed to visit Qinghe and to have a guest now and then. Or better yet, he’ll write to his mother, since she’s the one who is most likely to spare a moment to give him that permission. Stern as she is, his mother would certainly be happy to hear he’s made a friend.

#xisang #worst engagement au #jau writes #listen jzx is a tsundere through and through even about having friends #mdzs #yes jc and jzx are divorced parents sharing a child but if you ask them they dont want the child anyway lol

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