#guess I’m finally talking about it albeit vaguely (。-_-。)
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have to take a break with the otome visual novel I’m playing since I finally unlocked the secret character route and as much as I wanna dive in right now I know I’m going to short circuit if I binge it right now 😵💫
#when u play the whole thing just to get to that one character’s storyline#the main routes are rlly good for the most part but every time this guy shows up in the others ppls routes I’m!!!! like omg it’s you!! hi 👋#guess I’m finally talking about it albeit vaguely (。-_-。)#I have bounce around my whole room energy I can’t wait to bite into the angst this dude has I even loaded in the first game#to get reacquainted with his storyline#click clack#guess I could name drop it here it’s the piofiore sequel#I wanna draw them write fic about them I wanna go insane maybe 🫨
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Heyy! I hope you're having a good day. My fav hazbin character is Husk. Could you please do a ficlet where he and the reader have feelings for each other but are both nervous to admit it. Husk is having a bad day and maybe really stressed and the reader tries to comfort him? Maybe says something like "you're always a great listener for everyone one else, but you need someone to listen to you too". Lots of comfort, fluff, confessions, and love please! ♡♡ my heart aches for this sweet grumpy kitty!
Hey to you! This turned out a bit long, and maybe I did rush the end because I'm just...still not used to writing short fics, ahah. But hey, it's finished and I hope you enjoy it at least a bit!
Text divider by : cafekitsune
Husk x Reader - We found love in Hell
“I’m back!”
You announced, closing the entrance door of the Hotel behind you. You had gone out to run a few errands earlier in the day, and now that it was night the only thing on your mind was lying in bed and falling asleep.
Angel, already back from work and concentrated on his phone, waved at you tiredly; you decided to sit next to him on the couch after shooting a smile at Husk, who seemed grumpier than usual.
Albeit a bit lazily, you and Angel Dust started chatting for a bit, telling each other about how your day went and what you did. When the topic of the other residents of the Hotel came up, the spider demon lowered his voice to a whisper.
“I’ve got to say toots; Whiskers over there is in a bad mood today.” He revealed to you, making you perk up immediately.
“Oh, I did notice he didn’t seem up to a conversation, that’s why I didn’t bother him...” your gaze fell on his figure, all you could see was his back; he seemed to be busying himself with something. “You know if anything happened?”
Angel shrugged, then smirked at you slyly.
“Not sure, but I know of a few things you could try to cheer him up.”
You rolled your eyes at him playfully before shaking your head.
“No thanks, I’ll pass. I’ll talk to him though, thank you for telling me.”
Angel knew very well of you and Husk’s crushes on each other, so he didn’t mind playing matchmaker sometimes. He guessed the best thing to do would’ve been to leave the two of you alone, so he stretched a bit before getting up and announcing that he was off to bed.
You told him goodnight, while Husk simply gave him a nod.
In all honesty, you felt a little bad going up to him for conversation now that you knew he wasn’t in the best mood, but you still did so in hopes of comforting him at least a little. When you sat at the counter, he finally turned around.
“Good evening Husk, how are you?” you faked ignorance and asked, resting your face on your hand. He fluttered his wings and nodded at you as a greeting, putting aside the cloth he had been using to clean the sink.
“Can’t complain. How about you? Want me to pour you somethin’?” he asked despite looking particularly beat, as Angel had warned you.
You shook your head.
“No, just wanted to, y’know... talk to you for a bit before going to bed. Are you sure you’re okay?” your warm smile admittedly made his cheek flush. He was glad that his fur could cover that up at least partially.
Concentrating on your question though, he gave you a deep sigh.
“Yeah, yeah. Just a couple things on my mind today, but who doesn’t go through that.” He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair; it was your turn to blush.
However you weren’t a fan of how vague he was being. You sighed, which made him turn towards you once again.
“It is common I guess. But even this morning you seemed troubled, so you know...you always listen to others, but it’s fine if sometimes you need to be listened to, too.”
Husk wasn’t one to have big reactions but, having been close for some time, you did notice his eyebrows raising a little at your statement. Still, you hoped he’d say something. When he didn’t, you continued to fill the silence.
“...Not to push you, of course. Maybe you want distractions, I can talk about my day or something...just, let me know how I can help now that I’m here, yeah?”
He took a deep breath, then leaned on the bar’s counter so he could be closer to you, copying your position with his head resting on his hand.
“Ya worry too much, really, I’m fine. Just had way too many interactions with...” he let out a sigh; Alastor, you guessed. It wasn’t surprising that he would be distraught after interacting with the demon he had lost his soul to.
He was pretty vague in his explanations of what happened too, but if he didn’t want to go too in depth about how he felt you were going to respect that. Eventually, the two of you noticed that it was getting late, so you decided to turn off the big lights in favour of smaller, dimmer ones that set a cosy atmosphere.
You sat comfortably on the couch, legs crossed as you listened to Husk speak about a lighter topic now; how everyone had been asking to mix way too complicated cocktails lately while he was already in a bad mood. You knew this wasn’t aimed at you as you either always asked for the same one or didn’t even order one at all, too busy dealing with errands for Charlie or yourself.
“...Thanks for listenin’, by the way.” He said suddenly, and you smiled at him.
“It’s not a problem, that’s what...friends are for.” You said hesitantly.
“Yeah, I s’ppose.”
Friends, you both thought, unbeknownst to each other. You and Husk had been friends for a while, always relying on each other when things got bad. Always managed to break through each other’s walls and get the other to talk about their deepest troubles.
It was clear to everyone at the Hotel that you two were very close, and saw the other in a very positive light, one that outshined the definition of ‘friend’; there was something more that you both wanted, but were too scared, perhaps because of past experiences, to go through with.
“Been a while since I sat with someone to talk about something until late at night.” Husk confessed, breaking your train of thoughts.
“It’s just because it’s me, I bet.” You said jokingly, yet boldly. He chuckled.
“Usually it’s the other way around. They talk, I listen. Feels nice to be listened to.”
Even though you were the listener in this case, he made sure to make you feel appreciated by basically confessing that there was nobody else he’d open up to. You admittedly felt too tired to conjure any insightful thought or answer, so you simply leaned against him; the sudden contact made his ears perk up, but he slowly got comfortable with it and cuddled closer to you himself.
“I’ll always listen to you, Husk.”
“I thought I lost the ability to love long ago;” you thought he was about to start another rant, so you slightly looked up at him to let him know he had your full attention; “Turns out my old heart was jus’ waiting for you to come along.” He finished, looking away.
You felt his wing tentatively reach to hug your side, so you shifted a bit to allow it to. It was warm, comfortable. Exactly how you felt around Husk.
Registering his words, the blush on your cheeks spread. This was his own way of confessing to you.
“I love you, too.” He let his head rest on the top of yours as you muttered those words nervously, as if it was a gesture meant to comfort you.
The next morning, Charlie had to contain a squeal as her and the rest of the residents of the Hotel found you cuddled up next to each other on the cough, sleeping soundly, wrapped in Husk’s wings as if they were a blanket.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin x reader#x reader#husk x reader#husk hazbin hotel#husk hazbin#husker#husker x reader#husker hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel
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Mewtwo stood in the corner, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. He felt intimidated by his surroundings and the sheer amount of Legendary and Mythical Pokémon. He’d seen, like, three Yveltal at this event already. And he’d never even met the one from his own universe.
His mind began to spiral a bit. What if they hated him? What if they didn’t think he was worthy of being a Legendary? Should he just go home? Would Lucario and Mew be mad at him if they left? Maybe he should just-
“You alright, kid?”
Mewtwo was startled by the voice that seemingly came from out of nowhere. He turned and saw a tall figure standing next to him, looking at him with concern.
“O-oh! Yeah, I’m- I’m good. Just, uh… a bit anxious. That’s all.”
‘Oh, Arc above…’ he thought. This was another Legendary - and a powerful one at that. He could sense their strong aura.
“Ah, I get it. Social events like this aren’t for everyone.” The figure’s voice was slightly raspy, but had a laid-back tone to it. “It’s pretty brave of you to come anyways, though.”
“Oh… thank you.” Mewtwo perked up a bit. He wasn’t expecting the sudden compliment. “It’s especially difficult with so many Legendaries around, to be honest… No offense, of course.”
“None taken. But, uh, aren’t you a Legendary yourself?” they asked, vaguely motioning to the Mewtwo-shaped pin on his suit.
Shit. He forgot about that. “Well, yes… but my upbringing wasn’t as… how do I put this… as traditional as that of other Legendary Pokémon…” He fidgeted with that pin a bit, adjusting it ever so slightly. He held his breath for a moment, waiting for the figure’s response.
“So I’ve heard. Cloning, right?” Despite what Mewtwo was expecting, their tone didn’t have a hint of disdain or malice in it. They seemed like they genuinely didn’t care whether or not he was a clone. Mewtwo nodded and let out a silent sigh of relief.
The figure took a moment to think before speaking again. “But why should that matter, if I may ask?”
“…Well…” Mewtwo was a bit surprised by the question, trying to formulate an answer. “It’s a bit nerve-wracking to know that other Legendaries probably don’t see you as one of them, I guess. It really takes a toll on you.”
They looked at him for a moment before speaking. “…Exactly how certain are you about that?” They tilted their head to the side a bit, clearly curious. “How certain are you that other Legendaries dislike you?”
“I don’t know… 90% certain, I think?”
The figure looked at him with a slightly doubtful expression.
“Okay… like, 85%, then.”
Same look.
“70%?”
Their face didn’t change.
“Okay, fine. I… I don’t actually know if they hate me or not…” Mewtwo admitted. “I just… have a hunch.”
His companion chuckled to themself a bit. “Why don’t you ask them, then?”
Mewtwo was taken aback. “I- I can’t just ASK them that! I can’t even TALK to other Legendary Pokémon very well!”
“You seem to be talking to me just fine.”
“Well, this is different, I guess. You’re not from my world - you’re not one of the people that could potentially decide my fate if I did something to anger you.” Mewtwo didn’t want to admit it, but they did have a point, though. He’d been able to interact with other Pokémon just fine throughout this event - legendary or not. Maybe he could-
“What makes you think I’m not from your world?”
“…What…?”
“You’re assuming that I’m from a different universe. That’s not exactly the case, believe it or not.”
Mewtwo froze. He finally realized what they were implying.
“…Arceus above, YOU’RE…”
Surprise! Kenos (They/He) has joined the Gala and is open for asks!
(albeit late, of course.)
#HEHEHE >:3#my art#pokemon#mewtwo#giratina#kenos giratina#pokemon oc#poke ask blog#sinsibgala#this was somewhat inspired by ask-the-royal-absol’s Singularity event but the circumstances of this are pretty different
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giordirossi:
Hey! Wake up.
Unfortunately, she still is. The empty threat comes as a surprise–– or perhaps not-so-empty, Giordana often finds it miraculous what people are capable of under the right provocation… Regardless, his words encourage heavy eyelids to open up at him yet again and she laughs.
For once the sound isn’t hollow or mocking as genuine mirth rings quietly across her vocal cords, an almost foreign response these days. Maybe she’s gone delirious from the blood loss and increasing pressure of the tourniquet around her thigh; or maybe he managed to tap into that specific brand of morbid humor they once teased each other about.
You’re in no position to make demands. “And that’s your favorite… I remember.” Another chuckle escapes and she offers a weary half-salute when the conversation rounds off with a more prominent threat of being hospitalized. “Stay alive. Got it.”
The memory of how Gideon transports her to his apartment remains fuzzy, even as they burst through the door and he drops her unceremoniously onto his sofa. Vaguely she recalls a car and passing streets, then the bright overhead lights of his building. Once Giordana regains any semblance of bearings, her head angles upward to a side table and she takes note of the new light fixture with blurry amusement.
“You got a new lamp,” her voice comments faintly as she shifts, somehow possessing just enough wherewithal to not lay her bleeding appendage on the fabric of his couch. “I like it better than your old one.”
.
‘Stay alive. Got it.’
He grabs her hand when she goes to salute him, fingers snapping around her wrist as he brings it back to pavement. “Hey! I’m being serious,” He tells her sternly, needing her to conserve any strength she isn’t using to stay alive. Mocking salutes included.
To his credit, Damon’s chauffeur makes it to them in record time. It snaps him out of his thoughts (’Ah, that’s your favourite... I remember.’ — did she want to remember, or was that the delirium talking?) and into action as the sleek black car pulls into view.
He loses track of time as they heft Giordana into the vehicle as quickly as possible and sneak her discreetly – albeit a little unceremoniously – into his apartment, up the lift, and finally onto the couch. Vernon hangs back as he races to one storage closet and wheels out a suitcase full of medical belongings that aren’t exactly licensed for use outside the hospital. Far from the first time he’s had to break that particular law.
‘You got a new lamp... I like it better than your old one.’
His eyes inadvertently meet Vernon’s — whose subtly raised brows imply a question he’s more polite than to ask. Still he wonders what the chauffeur might think; when had this strange woman – presently bleeding out on his sofa – last been in his home, and why?... Vernon was accustomed to seeing strange women coming and going out of Damon’s various apartments, if there was any guess at the top of the list it tended more often than not to point to a particular kind of entanglement.
Ignore it, you don’t have to explain yourself... It’s more suspect if you do.
Gideon swallows, and reaches out to wrestle the Italian’s bleeding limb flat onto his sofa. “Would you just cooperate,” He mutters to her under his breath, “Don’t pretend you’ll mourn my upholstery.” He doesn’t tell her that he won’t either; that all he really cares about right now is to staunch her blood loss.
“Vernon,” The surgeon twists around to find the man again with his gaze. “Gonna need you to do me another favour. Not sure how much blood she’s lost or whether she’ll need a transfusion, so I’ll need you to run a sample to the private clinic and get back to me with the analyzer results.” He rummages through his emergency kit and pulls a fresh cannula from the pack. “— You’re gonna feel a sharp scratch,” Gideon warns the brunette. He could attach it to an IV drip and run a bag of saline through her to stave off the shock... “You’re not gonna like me very much in about half a minute or so, but let’s not pretend that’s anything new.” This time, he expressly avoids the chauffeur’s gaze. “Vernon, hand me a blue and lavender bottle.”
#Your Honour I proclaim our innocence#G x Giordana#q#s.#June '23#flashback#the only thing i am guilty for is doubling the length of this reply
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Hi! Could I request some hcs or a one shot (whichever you prefer!) where Gojo finds out reader has never orgasmed with a partner before because her previous partners were kind of asses. Thank you either way! Have a lovely day! :)
hello love~ I figured I might as well turn this into a one shot because there had been just so~ many ideas floating around my head for this (including a few Japan traumata lol) - I hope you're ready to buckle up cause this one comes in at 5k appr. enjoy -mesu. PS: A very special thanks to niob for beta-ing this monster and talking me through it!!!❤
Gojō Satoru x f!reader warnings: vaginal penetration, oral sex (receiving), Gojō being a smug arse
You cursed the day you were born. Actually, no. You cursed the day Gojo Satoru was born to torment your existence.
The first time you had met Gojo it had been your first year teaching at Kyoto jujutsu high and your first impression had been that no single living being could withstand his gaze of scrutiny. Given, as the wielder of both infinity and the six eyes there wasn’t anyone on his level to begin with, but did he really have to be an arse about it? Who even hired him as a teacher – a person supposed to be of pedagogic value – in the first place?
Luckily, you didn’t have to see him all that often, usually just whenever the time of year came around for the good-will event with the sister school in Tokyo but he had picked up an unhealthy interest in your person and relentlessly teased you for whatever you did and didn’t do alike.
Utahime had once suggested that it was Gojo’s twisted way of flirting with you and you couldn’t help but scoff and reply that you had seen Gojo flirting. And it was nothing alike how he was acting towards you. Afterwards, Utahime had taken pity on you and acted as an intermittence between you and Gojo so he wouldn’t get under your skin anymore, albeit he mostly ended up getting under hers instead.
At least, that was until tonight. With the students being sound asleep in bed, everyone involved in the event unanimously had decided to head for a drink at a fancy bar in Ginza to celebrate the event ending more or less successfully despite the unforeseen interference of some higher ranked curses and you ended up sitting sandwiched between Utahime and Shoko who both had insisted on a girl’s table away from curious colleagues and ears, while the other staff were seated at a slightly larger table just out of earshot.
The back of your head hit your nape when you downed what felt like the 7th shot of nihonshu. The alcohol prior to the shots had already infiltrated your system, leaving your senses foggy and your tongue loose. You weren’t about to spill your secrets just yet, but it was definitely getting harder to suppress the glances you’d love to gift Gojo who seemed entirely unfazed by any of the liquor he had consumed this evening.
That prick has to use his innate techniques to cope with the alcohol!
You narrowed your eyes, glaring at the tall man across the table who hadn’t even bothered to take his blindfold off while sporting a vaguely amused if aloof expression while the headmaster of Kyoto high and Tokyo high appeared to be in a heated discussion. Speaking of rude.
Lost in your thought of how much you longed to wipe that smirk off of Gojo’s face, you didn’t follow the topic of conversation of your friends at the table who definitely had one nihonshu too many.
“I’m telling you, anatomically speaking, it’s just unfair. It’s so much easier for men to achieve an orgasm, alright? It’s as if nature was against us women,” Shoko sighed dramatically, taking the nihonshu bottle to refill the shot glasses only to find it empty. Another, this time desperate, sigh followed.
“What’s even worse is that men usually don’t care about their partner's pleasure at allll,” Utahime responded with a distinct lull in her voice while she was already close to resting her cheek on the table. She’s definitely had enough but that didn’t stop her from going on, “Ever since I started dating, there’s been what? Maybe two decent enough guys that actually cared if I came too or not.”
“Sounds about right,” Shoko agreed, apparently trying to find some universal truth in the emptiness of the bottle she was still holding onto.
You shot a glance to the two unhappy women at your side, deciding that it was time to share your two cents of truth under your breath, “At least you’ve had partners before who took care of your needs, too. I for once have only been with arseholes who could care less if I came or not. And so I never did… so…consider yourselves lucky? I guess.”
As expected, your volume made it impossible for them to catch what you were revealing and Utahime unbeknownst interrupted the aftermath to your soft confession by suddenly straightening her posture in a surge of drunken energy, grabbing one of your and Shoko’s hands respectively to declare something about not letting this circumstance prevent anyone from having a great night.
You could’ve sworn the corner of Gojo’s mouth perked up the second you shot him another glance…
A few drinks, a second bar, and a couple hours later.
Your head was spinning slightly and you leaned your back against the wall of the establishment you’d just stepped out of. Damn your senpai for making you drink. You soaked in the wet, clean night air which could only be achieved during the rainy season in Tokyo.
The moment you pressed your eyes shut you could hear Utahime demanding to move onto a karaoke bar and continue this until morning. Of fucking course, you thought to yourself and opened your eyes, desperate for any excuse to skip what was about to come.
Among general consensus with a few nods and exclamations here and there, you slowly noticed how Gojo was watching you intently. By now he had actually gotten rid of his blindfold and was sporting his dark shades, his soft hair was framing his angular face, slightly damp by the drizzle and you would have gladly punched him for the way the street lights and shop signs reflected in his hair.
Still, right now you had other things to worry about and so you took a deep breath and spoke up, “Thanks for this evening but I’ll have to take my leave now. It’s already late and I don’t think my voice can handle singing right now.” An obvious lie as your voice was just fine, but it’d do the trick of getting you out of corporate pressure.
And that’s exactly what happened. Your excuse was accepted at face value and you were wished a good night’s rest. Umbrellas were opened and the group made of two faculties strolled towards the closet illuminated Karaoke sign.
You waited until everyone was on the move, so you could gather yourself in your time without any scrutinising eyes on you.
“Leaving an intoxicated damsel to her own devices? How could I be the strongest without taking care of her? Allow me to lead you home, (Y/N)~”
Just when you thought you had lived through the worst, Gojo’s voice piped up right next to your ear. You hadn’t seen him stay behind and now he was close, dangerously so, and he didn’t even care to hide the glee in his voice.
You managed to turn your head in his direction and gift him – what was in your imagination – a nasty stare. For Gojo, it rather seemed like you were trying your best to fixate your dizzy gaze on him.
He sighed and for once dropped his excruciating façade, speaking in a normal tone, “Seriously tough, (Y/N), I’d rather lead you home. Tokyo’s far from being safe at night.”
Seeing and actually hearing Gojo apparently genuinely concerned made you weigh your chances enough that you finally sighed in defeat, “Fine. But only up to the doorstep.”
Gojo blinked at you repeatedly, appearing almost insulted that you dared to think him a man who would take advantage of women like that – truth being that he was more insulted that you thought that he was actually in need of such tricks – and made an off-hand remark of how he could never.
You waved your hand dismissively and slowly tried to straighten your posture, “You’re here by car, right? That’s why you used your innate technique to not get drunk. Wish I could’ve done the same, wouldn’t be dying of spinning world syndrome right now.”
That stopped Gojo’s rant about his hurt pride. A sheepish smirk appeared on his lips and he stated flatly, “You noticed.”
You nodded, which turned out to have been a terrible idea. Nausea overcame you and you tried to curl into a ball, but Gojo was next to you in a second, smoothly wrapping his long arm around your waist while his free hand reached for your hand, easily securing your stance like that.
“Let’s get you home, shall we?”
You nodded and simply concentrated on not getting sick while he led you towards the parking lot where his car was parked. He left you shortly to pay for the ticket and you leaned against one of the nearby vending machines, concentrating on your breathing.
A few moments later the relatively quiet night was disturbed by the low roar of what turned out to be a pricey sports car. It didn’t take long for Gojo to stop said car right in front of you. Ever the gentleman he stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the door to the passenger’s side for you, offering his hand to you for assistance. The entire picture which enfolded in front of you seemed to be taken out of a romance.
Only when you wobbled over to the car and felt the infinity between your hand and Gojo’s you snapped back to reality, pursing your lips as you stated, “You never let anyone actually touch you, do you?”
“If someone’s worth my while, sure I do,” Gojo replied with a sly smile, but something in his eyes appeared resigned, almost lost. But maybe that was just your imagination? Almost promising.
You didn’t even have time to follow-up on his statement as he simply shut the door in your face, cutting any further discussion short. Soon, Gojo settled in the driver’s seat and drove off towards your hotel. You didn’t even question how he knew where he needed to go.
Silence fell upon you and you simply turned your gaze to the flashing street lights, allowing you to marvel at Tokyo’s nocturnal atmosphere for a while. This was so much better than making your way through the confusing public transport in time for the last train. You shot Gojo another gaze and were surprised to find him diligently keeping his eyes on the road.
At once you wondered if you unwittingly had been keeping him from joining the others at karaoke. Singing one’s soul out and getting undressed in the process seemed right up Gojo’s alley.
“…Thank you for taking me back to the hotel. I appreciate it. You… didn’t really have to do this though, I’m sure you wanted to attend karaoke with the others,” you started off your half-apology.
A soft yet deep chuckle escaped Gojo’s throat.
“Oh sure I did, hun. There’s been something on my mind concerning you which is just soooo much more fun than karaoke could ever be after all,” Gojo casually replied, eyes never straying from the road.
You frowned and cocked your head in an inquisitive manner.
“Don’t act confused now, love,” Gojo smirked as he pulled over and parked the car right next to the entrance of the hotel. He unfastened his seatbelt to turn to you completely and casually rested his elbow against his seat, “Now, why don’t you tell me about never having orgasmed with a partner before?”
The question hung in the air for a moment as Gojo watched you curiously while you didn’t believe the meaning behind what your ears had picked up on.
“I…,” you spilled quickly, already feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. This had to be a nightmare. How did he know of that? You never told a soul, too embarrassed by your unfortunate choice of past sexual partners, and now Gojo Satoru – out of all possible people – knew of your secret?!
The panic must have shown on your face as Gojo’s smug expression softened slightly and he leaned closer to you, only stopping when the tip of his nose almost collided with yours, “You should take more care who might be listening in when you’re talking to yourself, (Y/N).”
You nodded once and leaned back, avoiding Gojo’s touch and gaze as best you could, “T-thanks for the ride.” Even if his revelation had thrown you off entirely, you tried your best to hide it.
“My pleasure. I’ll have to insist on taking you to your room though.” Gojo’s tone was unforgiving and made it very clear that you wouldn’t get out of him walking you all the way.
You sighed deeply and submitted to your fate, sinking into your seat until he had rounded the car and opened the passenger’s door so you could accept his hand to disembark in a semi-elegant manner.
Once you had found your balance he let go of your hand, matching your pace as you walked towards your room, acting as if he hadn’t just nonchalantly invaded your privacy. You shot him several glances but Gojo acted very interested in the interior of the hotel. You didn’t buy it though. Obviously he was just relishing in the fact that he got under your skin.
So he didn’t want to push any further? Fine by you. You huffed softly and pushed the button for your floor once you boarded the lift, Gojo strolling on your heels, hands shoved into the pocket of his trousers.
You refrained from looking at anything close to Gojo’s direction, albeit you could feel his piercing gaze on you. You used the time of the short ride to get your room card out of your purse and as soon as the automatic doors opened, you darted out of the lift and unlocked the door to your room with a soft beep.
Barely having shuffled inside you got rid of your purse and turned around to thank Gojo once again, finding him right on your doorstep.
“Thanks, Gojo, I appreciate what you did tonight,” you smiled awkwardly at the close proximity and mustered the courage to look into his eyes, just to be surprised by their intensity.
“Of course,” Gojo hummed, resting his left arm on the doorframe he leaned closer, stopping right before crossing the threshold with his movements. He easily kept your eyes locked in his, making you all but forget about bringing some distance between you.
“Before I leave… y’know I could help you out with your little problem, (Y/N). If you’re up for it, that is.”
Gojo’s voice was low, eyes dark, pupils dilated with a certain hunger as they stared right into your soul.
When his words registered a soft gasp unwittingly left your lips as your eyes grew wide.
Just what was happening? Had Utahime been right all along?
The next moment Gojo was leaning down to you, making all but sure that your senses shut down to a bare minimum. Standing there frozen in place, time seemed to slow down around you as your eyes flickered from Gojo’s luscious lips to his cyan eyes and back to his lips again.
Was this really happening right now?
Your heart pounded against your chest harshly and you pressed your eyes shut to calm your nerves. That is when you felt his soft lips against the skin of your cheek, undoubtedly skin on skin. He‘d really turned his infinity off!
“As I have told you prior, I don’t take advantage of intoxicated women. But as I understand it, you still have a couple hours before your bullet train back to Kyoto tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you, (Y/N). You won’t regret it. . .~”
You held your breath and nothing. When you finally opened your eyes again Gojo was gone. Simply vanished! He had done exactly what he had promised to do. Taken you home, up to your doorstep and not a millimetre further.
Did this mean that he was going to keep what he offered if you turned up at his doorstep tomorrow? Up until now Gojo had never given you any reason to doubt him. Sure, he was a prick, but he was honest about being a prick. At least that was more than could be said about any of your former affiliations.
It took a couple more moments before you managed to close the door and turn in to a sleepless night contemplating if you might as well take Gojo up on his offer.
The next day. After some empty excuses to Utahime of why you couldn’t spend the last hours in Tokyo together. In front of Gojo’s apartment.
You stared at the kanji at the apartment, contemplating if you should really proceed now. It had been a pain to get Gojo’s address, dodging several inquisitive questions of Utahime, but now that you were finally here you weren’t sure if you should be anymore.
Given Gojo had lived up to every single thing he had proclaimed so far, plus he never had given you any reason not to trust him. Still, did being here meant that you were willing to compromise your integrity for something as trivial as good sex? More so than the actual act, you were afraid of what it might mean for your future relationship with Gojo; which would be anything but professional hereafter.
Before you could spiral further into second guessing yourself, the apartment door in front of you opened smoothly, offering the view to a slightly dishevelled looking Gojo apparently just out of the shower.
The moment you locked eyes with his bare ocean orbs, a smug grin emerged on his face, “Fancy seeing you here, (Y/N). Come in.”
You mumbled a greeting and stepped into his modern apartment, quickly getting rid of your shoes and outer layers while Gojo walked further back into the flat calling out to you, “Can I offer you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Pineapple juice?~”
You rolled your eyes, very convinced that you just shouldn’t have come here. You followed Gojo’s voice into a broad living room with an open kitchen. The colours and décor were kept simple, black and white, sometimes a splash of colour in the colour of his goddamn eyes.
After having accessed the surroundings to your heart’s content you turned to Gojo, “Do you happen to have pineapple juice – notoriously known for apparently for making the taste of oral sex sweeter – at hand for your guests at all times? Or did you go shopping for me yesterday?”
A soft chuckle, “I happen to like the flavour. Plus, I am quite certain your juices aren’t in need of any enhancement.” A wink followed. What a bastard.
Ignoring the faint blush that emerged on your cheeks, you countered, “And what exactly makes you so sure about that, mh?”
Gojo shortly nibbled on his full lips as he sized you up with hungry eyes. Then, he slowly rounded the kitchen counter until he stood right in front of you. The smell of his surprisingly fruity after-shave intoxicated your senses.
“Wanna find out?”
You managed a nod and Gojo smirked wider, simply lifting you up on the counter so you were closer to eye level with him.
And then he finally let his soft luscious lips collide with yours, involving you in a breathless, inifity-less kiss while your arms wrapped around his neck on their own accord. Gojo smirked against your lips pulling you closer to himself, gladly taking the opportunity to feel up through the fabric of the blouse you were wearing for travel.
How you cursed the school’s clothing protocol at that moment!
Frowning slightly you broke the kiss, quickly trying to get rid of your blouse with your hands, but Gojo had other plans, catching your hands in his he leaned closer and purred on your lips, “Ah-ah (Y/N), there’s still plenty of time till your bullet train. No need to rush~ This is more than a mere quicky to shoot one’s load and carry on, after all. I need you to relax and enjoy the ride.”
You weren’t quite sure what did the trick. The proximity to him or his genuine tone, but you visibly relaxed and started shamelessly feeling Gojo up in return. You weren’t surprised to find defined abs when you pushed the fabric of his shirt out of the way and followed their lines for a bit before you moved on to explore his back.
“Good girl,” Gojo chuckled in your ear and let out a teasing gasp in response to your initiative before he went to nibble on your earlobe, making you cross your legs behind his hips as a soft whimper escaped your lips.
“Sensitive, are we?”
Gojo moved back, capturing your lips in another kiss, this time parting yours with his cheeky tongue so he could explore your mouth to his heart’s content. You happily complied and concentrated on his tongue enough that you didn’t notice how he skilfully unbuttoned your blouse.
Your legs tightened around Gojo’s hips and you moaned when you felt his growing bulge through the fabric. Gojo took this opportunity to kiss down your neck only to ravish it mercilessly while his hands had taken a liking to your boobs, kneading them through your lacey bra.
“Hah~” More and more lewd noises filled the heated air as Gojo pinched your hardened nipples just the right amount to send shivers down your spine and you were glad that you didn’t have to depend on your trembling legs anymore.
Desperate for support you scratched blindly over Gojo’s upper arms which led him to gift you a wolfish smile as he pulled back enough to strip off your blouse and a swift motion later your bra followed.
Pouting slightly you picked on his shirt, making Gojo scoff and get rid of it, too. You sighed content about the equal stages of undress and wiggled slightly on top of the counter, enjoying the friction this provided against both the fabric of your pants and Gojo’s bulge.
“You little minx,” Gojo growled lowly, suddenly pinning you down to the counter by your neck. The cold surface sent a shiver through the entirety of your body. He adjusted his grip to be more gentle, yet still determined enough to hold you in place, actively preventing you from escaping from his touch. You would welcome the sweet torture that was to follow deliberately and Gojo was very aware of that.
Soon enough Gojo began his agonisingly slow treatment of your torso, mouthing his way from your collar bones to your chest where he spent his sweet time circling each nipple with his tongue.
You didn’t know what exactly he was doing with his shameless long tongue but you had never felt your body rise to the touch on its own quite like that and it took a minute to recognise it was your own voice which echoed through the apartment so obscenely.
Desperate for more stimulation which Gojo still withheld from you, you tried to pull him closer with your crossed legs, earning a suppressed moan from him as his erect member brushed against your clothed sex. How much you would’ve given for those layers to finally be gone.
“You really haven’t been getting laid properly at all, huh.”
Completely unnerved by now you groaned and shot Gojo an acid glare, but the elite sorcerer just chuckled to himself as he straightened back up, sizing you up in the process once again. You had never seen his eyes this dark.
In a split second his hands were undoing your pants as if they had never done anything else in his life and a few moments later you were sitting on the counter completely undressed.
When you blinked away your surprise, Gojo brushed another deep kiss on your lips, humming on them, “I’d hold onto something if I were you~”
And then he dove down to your core, hands holding your hips in place well aware that you wouldn’t be able to hold still.
As soon as his lips connected to your nether folds, a lightning impulse flashed through your body and your loudest moan yet left your lips. Your head flew back by itself and you wreathed as best you could on the counter top for either more or less friction, you weren’t quite sure.
All the while Gojo relentlessly continued his pursuit of your sex, tongue swirling expertly over and around your clit, building up a certain intensity before he moved down slightly to lick and mouth at your entrance.
You desperately held onto the edge of the counter for support, spilling his name over and over again, while Gojo cheekily thrust his tongue into you for a taste before he redirected his attention to your clit again.
The coil in your core seemed to harden and become undone at the same time and another flick of Gojo’s tongue made you scream as you jerked up as you finally hit your high. Juices spilled out of your cunt and you buried your flushed face in your hands while your entire body was convulsing in ecstasy.
Gojo made sure to keep his grip on you so you wouldn’t slide down from the counter, licking his soiled lips. Once he was sure that your breathing calmed down a bit he gently stroked away a couple of stray strands of hair and smirked, “Told ya you weren’t in the need of any enhancement, babe. You’re to die for~”
Still concentrating on your oxygen intake you were feeling rather overwhelmed with everything that had played out just now. It took a bit of bargaining with yourself to search for Gojo’s gaze again, but when your eyes met you immediately noticed the mixture of hunger and smug complacency in his. He had gotten you good, but you decided you weren’t going to leave before payback.
And so you cocked your brow up and smirked, “I admit you lived up to your word, Gojo. Mind if we take round two to the bedroom?”
A grin.
“Not at all, princess,” Gojo replied and picked you up bridal style to carry you off into his chamber.
Gojo’s bedroom was dark. Both furniture and bedding were either held in a dark grey or black and the shades were lowered. When Gojo let you down on the bed you took a look around and tended your head slightly at the unexpected interior.
You were torn out of your thoughts when you heard Gojo unbuckle his belt, followed by the sound of his zipper and turned back to see him in his whole glory.
His member was definitely on the larger side, but you were happy to see it came short of what you knew would be painful to insert. It had a nice girth and was slightly tended to the right, the tip glistening with pre-cum meant for your prior endeavors. You licked your lips unconsciously, eager to feel it in you.
“Marveled at my dick enough, have we? ” Gojo smirked knowingly and reached for a condom which just happened to lie on top of his nightstand.
You nodded slightly and watched him routinely put it on, before you pulled him on top of the bed and ravished his mouth with yours. He had deserved your undivided attention after making true of his promise and you were way past the stage of having any second thoughts.
Gojo curled his lips against yours, easily positioning himself on top of you while his hands were suddenly all over your body. It seemed like he wanted to leave his touch on every inch of your being and honestly? At this very moment you didn’t mind if he did.
The energy between the two of you grew hotter by the minute and you gasped for breath when he readjusted your hips so his member was prodding against your entrance.
“Last chance, (Y/N)…hng~”
The strain in his voice did it for you and you brushed a fleeting kiss on his cheek on your way to his ear, “Take me already, Satoru!”
A deep groan reverberated in Gojo’s upper body at the mention of his first name and he penetrated you in a swift, smooth motion, making both of you moan with pleasure.
He gave you a moment before he moved, offering the opportunity to get used to his considerable size before he started moving at a cheeky pace. Something had just clicked between the two of you and you moved against him as if you had never done anything else in your life. It felt liberating. It felt right. . .
A couple many minutes and exchanges of ecstasy later.
You were laying sprawled half-way over Gojo while he lazily played with your slightly damp hair. After your last round he had suggested a shower since you technically still had a train to catch and you thought it a good idea.
If you hadn’t stopped him, you would’ve also stained his bathroom with his name. Who would’ve thought that his infinite also applied to sexual stamina? But then again, it was Gojo who you were talking about.
You weren’t quite sure how this session was going to change your relationship with Gojo in the future, but you definitely didn’t regret going through with it.
You shuffled slightly on the bed and stretched slightly, “Mh, what’s the time?”
“Hn, ten past two,” Gojo replied with a raspy, yet slightly amused voice.
Ten past two. Ten past two. The bullet train back to Kyoto you were supposed to board was leaving at half past two!
You jumped out of the bed, hurriedly reaching for your clothes.
“FUCK!”
“Any time, (Y/N)”
You shot Gojo another glare, painfully aware that he had to have known.
Gojo only gifted you a wink and grinned, “If you are going to be as nice to me as you were just now the next time we meet, I might be willing to help you out, (Y/N)~”
You cursed the day you were born. Actually, no. You cursed the day Gojo Satoru was born to torment your existence.,
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#jjk x reader#one shot#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen one shot#jujutsu kaisen x reader#text#jjk requests are open#not sfw#mesu#5k baby#jjk
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All Day Affair - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (18+)
JATP Masterlist - Valentine’s Masterlist
Warnings: 18+ Smut, swearing, light embarrassment (minors DNI)
Words: 2757
Summary: A rough night before leads to a slow morning after, causing you and Charlie to be late to Valentine’s brunch plans. All is forgiven and all is forgotten when he makes it up to you in the best way he can.
A/n: This weekend has not at all gone the way I’d thought/hoped it would and so I apologize for the slow churning of fics lately but I promise I am working on some much requested fics. On a lighter note, here is my contribution to the Valentine’s Day
My eyes groggily flutter open when I hear my phone rapidly buzzing on the bedside table. Charlie’s arm is draped over my exposed midriff, no doubt a position of his own doing. As I go to move his arm off my bare skin, he holds onto me tighter groaning an incoherent string of words. I attempt to grab the maniacally buzzing device with my eyes still closed. I’m incapacitated via Charlie’s hold on my waist, and thus, all I feel under my flattened hand against the cool surface are the discarded condom wrappers from last night.
“Charlie,” I scold, still not fully awake. He knowingly loosens his grip, allowing me to sit up and it isn’t until I’m upright and Charlie’s arm drops into my lap that I realize I’m completely naked under his t-shirt. My phone has not stopped vibrating like crazy much to my dismay. Haphazardly grabbing it off the nightstand, I wait for my eyes to adjust before I read the time.
11:26.
“SHIT. Charlie! Charlie, we’re late!” I try and shake him awake. He whines miserably,
“Mmmmm, what?”
“It’s 11:26, we’re late!”
The messages are from Owen and Savannah, both of whom we were supposed to be meeting for brunch at 11. While Charlie and I wanted Valentine’s Day plans alone, we also wanted to spend time with our friends whom we love dearly. Since the original plan was for the two of us to have the evening all to ourselves, we agreed on having brunch to start the day off well. Look how that turned out for us. I scramble out of bed, and I nearly hit the floor as my legs give out from under me. Luckily, Charlie was right behind me and was able to catch me in time.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just sore.”
“Yessss.” I fake slap his chest before we resume in the chaos, frantically throwing on decent outfits. I toss Charlie one of his band shirts turned muscle tees after hopping into a pair of jeans. Once dressed, I run to the bathroom and pass a brush through my hair in a frenzy before I begin brushing my teeth at lightning speed. Charlie appears beside me to brush his own teeth, and I’m practically sprinting out of the bathroom as he does.
“Don’t forget to fix your hair!” My legs nearly give out once more as I struggle to slip on my favorite pair of sneakers. Once I’m upright again, and stable, I grab both of our wallets and the keys to the house and car and shove them into my bag. Together we bolt out the door and clamber into Charlie’s orange Subaru.
In a nice contrast to all the rushing around we’ve done this morning, Charlie drives at a regular speed; thankfully, we make it to the restaurant in one piece. As soon as he puts the car in park the two of us run to the entrance to see our friends waiting at an outdoor table on the patio. Charlie and I finally made it, albeit a tad out of breath.
“Charlie, Y/n, nice of you to finally join us.”
“11:44 on the dot. Not your latest arrival, but an honorable mention,” Savannah jeers, waving me over to sit beside her.
“What happened this time?”
“Overslept. My usual alarm didn’t go off, I must’ve forgotten to turn it on last night.”
“Classic.” I’m distracted from Owen’s teasing when Savannah’s humorous smile drops. She’s looking at me with an emotion I can’t distinguish.
“You okay?” She simply nods and then pushes her chair back.
“I need to pee and you do too. Come on, Y/n.” And without allowing me to reply, she has me up out of the chair and briskly walking toward the bathroom. It isn’t until we’re outside the single stall that I noticed she grabbed my bag from the back of my chair. Once she’s locked us both in the room, she looks at me with wide eyes and a suppressed smile.
“What’s going on?”
“What’s this?” She answers my question with a question, before using her left index finger to poke the right side of my neck.
“Ow!” My face drops once I realize. Brushing past her, I move to stand in front of the bathroom mirror, inspecting the assemblage of love bites all over my neck area. Savannah merely giggles at the realization before opening my bag.
“You don’t have a sponge, so we’re gonna have to use our fingers.” I turn around to look at her, not through the mirror and find a bottle of full-coverage concealer in her hands.
“How did that get in there?”
“I put it in there last week after you had to spend the whole day adjusting your shirt around your collar bones to hide more of these.” She gives a vague gesture to the marks on my neck and begins applying the makeup.
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“And you are unbelievable. That was literally last week, and you’re already marked up again. Don’t you and Charlie ever just make love? Does it always have to be ‘ravage one another’s body’?”
“I mean, occasionally. I don’t know, sweet and tender isn’t really our thing.”
“Clearly.” Savannah steps back to survey her work, “Okay, you’re covered but be careful because I didn’t pack setting spray.”
“I am forever indebted to you.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. It’s Owen that you should pray doesn’t notice.”
“God, you’re right.”
“If I were solely judging by his hair, I’d have guessed you guys went at it this morning and not last night.”
“Shit, he’s probably marked up, too.”
“Well, I didn’t bring him concealer, and you two are not the same shade soooo… sorry.” I shake my head dismissively as I hold the bathroom door open for her behind me.
“Better him than me.”
“How was it though? You told me you’d text me updates.”
“Yeah, and then I didn’t set an alarm. But no, it was… so good. I’m like, sore.”
“Okay, we’re entering TMI territory so let’s find something to talk about before we’re back within earshot.”
“What are your Valentine’s plans for the rest of the day?”
“I might get frozen yogurt and watch a movie, haven’t really decided. I would ask what you and Charlie are doing, but based on this morning, I think I can guess.”
Just as Savannah and I did, the two boys fall silent once we approach the table; when the four of us are settled, I take a quick glance over the menu, as if I’m unsure of what I want.
“Okay, in the spirit of St. Valentine, let’s talk love. Tell us about your first kiss, Y/n.” Savannah eyes me, already knowing the horrendous story. I deadpan,
“No.”
“Wait, I’m actually curious. I don’t think I know this story.” Charlie leans forward in his seat, placing his forearms on the table in front of him.
“See what you’ve done?” Savannah merely shrugs and takes a smug sip from her water glass. “No, I’m not doing this. Why don’t you tell us about your first kiss, Sav?”
“I asked you first.”
“Fine, be that way. Charlie, tell us about your first kiss.”
“Well, I don’t know I-”
“Come on, what’s ‘love-master’ Charlie’s origin story?” Owen teasingly pats Charlie on the back, and the four of us all fall under a shocked silence at the sound of Charlie hissing in pain. My lips part in surprise but quickly press shut in a moment’s realization.
“You okay?” Don’t do it, Owen.
“Yeah, I’m fine just-”
“Oh my god.” Upon patting Charlie’s back, the fabric of his shirt moved out of the way to reveal a conglomerate of scratches across the surface of his sun-kissed skin. Owen laughs out in disbelief before poking one of the scratches again, causing Charlie to smack his hand away.
“Holy shit, did you get mauled by a bear?” Owen then gasps in a realization that I’d pray he wouldn’t have, and he begins to laugh even harder. “That good, huh Y/n?” My face heats up a million degrees and I cover my face with one hand as a desperate defense mechanism.
“It’s not a big deal, Owen.” Thank god, Savannah’s come to the rescue. “They just got a head start on Valentine’s Day is all.”
“Okay, can we please change the subject?” I plead as I’ve already had enough of their laughter. Charlie gives me a look that is both apologetic and embarrassed and I let out an exaggerated sigh as a response.
The rest of our brunch date is still a good time minus the occasional interjectory joke about my and Charlie’s romantic all-day-affair yesterday. Our foursome disassembles, already planning the next group outing post-Valentine’s intimacy.
“That was absolutely humiliating,” I state, buckling my seatbelt in the passenger's side as Charlie begins pulling out of the parking spot.
“You want me to be gentler next time?” Charlie asks sincerely and extends his right hand over the center console to rub a comforting circle on top of my thigh over the fabric of my jeans. The gesture pulls the warmth in my heart and the butterflies in my stomach a little lower.
“...No,” I admit shyly. The confession elicits a small, cocky chuckle from Charlie. He then gives me an affirming squeeze before tracing the seam along my inner thigh in a way that is too sensual to mistake his intentions.
The entire car ride home, the feeling of Charlie’s fingertips ghosting up my leg makes my heart beat a little faster and ignites a subtle heat where I wish he’d trail his hand up to. I’m sure my desire is apparent to Charlie but he doesn’t say anything about it. When we get back to our home, I stick the key in the lock and open the front door but freeze as I feel Charlie pressing into my entire backside. He leans down to playfully bite part of my earlobe as his hands come to rest on my hips.
“You said you didn’t want me to be gentle?” All of my senses are clouded by dense arousal so all I can do is nod. He airily laughs, a warm breath dusting the surface of my skin and I shudder involuntarily. “Go inside.”
After closing the door behind us, Charlie shoves me up against it, his hand behind my head to prevent me from actually getting hurt. He kisses my lips forcefully but doesn’t linger, and instead trails down the column of my throat. The kisses are rough in between small bites of affection, surely leaving more marks that I’ll have to wake up early to cover tomorrow. Or just not go anywhere. After this, it’s looking like the latter.
“You want me to rough you up a little bit? Huh?”
“Yes.” The love bites Charlie’s leaving behind become harsher on my skin, as he trails further down my neck, across my collarbones. “Charlie, can we…?”
“Can we what? Tell me what you want.”
“Please-“
“Please what? Use your words.”
“Please, fuck me.”
“Your wish is my command.” And with that Charlie pulls me into the bedroom, stealing kisses in between steps. Charlie moves to sit me on the bed but as he grabs me by the hips, I maneuver to switch places and push him down onto the bed. He looks at me with a mix of surprise and excitement, taking the hand that pushed him between his own. I smile delicately when Charlie presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles. That is the last trace of softness.
The two of us begin stripping out of our brunch clothes as fast as we can. It’s as if we’re running out of time. We’re both almost fully naked but before I can get my panties off Charlie’s lips are back on mine. His movements are swift, kiss after kiss is filled with an unrivaled lust that is glorious.
Crawling onto the bed, Charlie stays close behind, never allowing any loss of contact between us. I recover to a sitting position and Charlie wraps his arm under my stomach and presses a line of kisses across my shoulder blades.
“Can I take you like this?” He asks earnestly, running his hands over the vast expanse of my bare skin. I choke out a desperate plea and my breathing softens once I feel the absence of Charlie’s touch on my body. When I turn around I see him searching the room like a madman.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t find any more condoms. I think we used them all last night.”
“What? We only used three.”
“I don’t know! Maybe I dropped some?”
“Fuck it. Charlie if I’m not getting absolutely rawed in the next ten seconds I will walk out that door.” He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that and is back on the bed. Charlie grabs both sides of my face to bring me in for a long passionate kiss before taking his place behind me. His warm hands fall from my face to my waist, gripping the skin slightly.
Charlie sits back on his heels and moves my body back to hover over his. He runs a sensual path with his fingers down the sides of my body and slips one down through the growing wetness between my legs. Tracing the arousal over my quivering clit. The anticipation of the moment has heightened my sensitivity and as a result, I let out a whine. My whimpering continues when I feel him run the tip of his erection through the wetness. As I open my mouth to nag him for moving so slow, Charlie slams his entire length inside of me at once, causing me to cry out in pleasure. I can tell it feels incredible for him too by the way he’s gripping my hips. If he didn’t leave bruises yesterday, he definitely will today.
It doesn’t take long for him to figure out a tempo that’s comfortable for the both of us and my labored panting fills the room. Charlie lets out a groan followed by a laugh because we could both feel the physical reaction I had to the noise he had let out. Wrapping his right arm across my stomach, Charlie reaches the left up to grab my tits, and roughly bite another hickey on my shoulder. He uses his right arm to pull my body into his own torso, and shifting his hips he makes a few adjustments. Charlie shifts one more time and when he thrusts back into me I cry out so loud surely our neighbors will put in a noise complaint.
“There we go,” he grunts to himself, but our proximity allows me to hear. Repeatedly thrusting into that spot, my eyes flutter closed in pleasure. Charlie resumes leaving harsh, lingering kisses, and love bites down the side of my neck, moaning into them in ecstasy. As I feel my heat begin to pulse, Charlie knows I’m close and tries to grab my attention.
“Hey, hey. Look at me.” I will my eyes open and turn to look. The pleasure of his movements is so overwhelming that in between moans and shallow breaths, I find myself leaning my head back to rest on his bare shoulder. “I want you to look at me as you come undone.”
“Okay.” I swallow hard from how dry my mouth is from panting so hard for so long. Each next thrust is measured and the sound of our labored breathing and pleasured moans fill the electrified air.
“Charlie.”
“I’m close. Where do you want-”
“Just stay inside.”
“You sure?” Before I can give a coherent response my orgasm tears through me like a wildfire. I’m doing my best not to scream and what comes out is a mix between a strangled cry and a deep, guttural groan. Adding to my ecstasy, Charlie reaches down to trace tiny circles over my clit and I feel tears of overstimulation prick the length of my lower lash line. While Charlie fucks me through my high, I feel his movements stutter and the familiar twitch before he relaxes his hold on my body. The two of us collapse back onto the bed in a symphony of gasps and bliss-fueled laughter.
“Happy Valentine's Day,” he says behind a smile.
“I love you. That was the first time I’ve forgone condoms…” I state to the ceiling in a moment’s realization, “How do I get this out of me?”
***
A/n: I really am so sorry about the slow churn of writing. I’ve gotten busy with classes and though I knew this was coming I’m still upset that I can’t spend more time writing. On top of that being in a block has been really rough but it’ll pass with time I hope :)
Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul
#CherryValentinesFic#Julie and the phantoms#Julie and the phantoms fanfiction#Julie and the phantoms fanfic#Julie and the phantoms fic#Julie and the phantoms writing#Julie and the phantoms imagine#Julie and the phantoms oneshot#Julie and the phantoms one shot#Julie and the phantoms fluff#Julie and the phantoms smut#Julie and the phantoms angst#Julie and the phantoms x reader#JATP#Charlie gillespie#Charlie gillespie fanfiction#Charlie gillespie fanfic#Charlie gillespie fic#Charlie gillespie writing#Charlie gillespie imagine#Charlie gillespie oneshot#Charlie gillespie one shot#Charlie gillespie fluff#Charlie gillespie smut#Charlie gillespie angst#Charlie gillespie x reader#charlie gillespie x y/n
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What the fuck are the Trials
Since the show is based on the books and not the games, and more people are more familiar with the games that the books, I thought it might be helpful to sort of officialize the posts I’ve done about specific topics in the books.
Here are the previous posts on Triss&Geralt as well as Coën
TLDR: So looking at this process, according to the books the way a Witcher becomes, well a Witcher looks like this:
There is the Choice which is the decision to become a Witcher made when you are a child
Eat a lot of magic mushrooms that give you the strength and ability Witchers are known for
Then the Trial of the Grasses which is a concoction of mutagenic elixirs injected into the bloodstream which mutates you into a Witcher
Then finally there are the Changes. This is a big step and one that requires a mage. This is when the hormones are changed and a Witcher becomes permanently sterile
then there is training until you earn your medallion and BOOM, out onto the path with you
Now, have a post about what the trials are as far as the books are concerned
It’s important to note that in the books, The Witcher are a dying breed so the Trials are really only mentioned in Blood of Elves when Ciri trains with the Witchers and the two prequels, Sword of Destiny and The Last Wish.
Let’s start out with the basics of the Trials, here is a passage from Blood of Elves where Triss is wondering why the Witchers at Kaer Morhen are being so secretive in regards to Ciri:
“It’s obvious. They want to mutate the child, subject her to the Trial of Grasses and Changes, but they don’t know how to do it. Vesemir was the only witcher left from the previous generation, and he was only a fencing instructor. The Laboratorium, hidden in the vaults of Kaer Morhen, with its dusty demi-johns of elixirs, the alembics, ovens and retorts…
None of the witchers knew how to use them. The mutagenic elixirs had been concocted by some renegade wizard in the distant past and then perfected over the years by the wizard’s successors, who had, over the years, magically controlled the process of Changes to which children were subjected. And at a vital moment the chain had snapped.
There was no more magical knowledge or power. The witchers had the herbs and Grasses, they had the Laboratorium. They knew the recipe. But they had no wizard.”
Later:
“And now they want to mutate the girl but can’t. And that might mean… They may ask me to help. And then I’ll see something no living wizard has seen, I’ll learn something no living wizard has learned. Their famous Grasses and herbs, the secret virus cultures, the renowned, mysterious recipes…”
Now, what Triss doesn’t realize is that Geralt and the others are not planning on subjecting Ciri to the trials at all but are instead trying to hide Ciri’s magical ability from Triss. They are worried she will report them to the Chapter.
Of course, until they tell Triss this, she is deeply suspicious and goes on to talk about the mushrooms Witchers have access to which are extremely unique.
“Of course, thought Triss. They’re feeding her those legendary cave saprophytes – a mountain plant unknown to science – giving her the famous infusions of their mysterious herbs to drink. The girl is developing quickly, is acquiring a witcher’s infernal fitness. Naturally, without the mutation, without the risk, without the hormonal upheaval. But the magician must not know this. It is to be kept a secret from the magician. They aren’t going to tell me anything; they aren’t going to show me anything.”
Later:
“I don’t give a fig for your trust, witchers. There’s cancer out there in the world, smallpox, tetanus and leukaemia, there are allergies, there’s cot death. And you’re keeping your “mushrooms”, which could perhaps be distilled and turned into life-saving medicines, hidden away from the world. You’re keeping them a secret even from me, and others to whom you declare your friendship, respect and trust. Even I’m forbidden to see not just the Laboratorium, but even the bloody mushrooms!”
Triss as a mage has extreme bias against the Trials and for good reason! Most of the populace doesn’t have access to any information on the Trials outside of vague ideas but Mages have access to first hand accounts such as this from Blood of Elves:
“On the third day all the children died save one, a male barely ten. Hitherto agitated by a sudden madness, he fell all at once into deep stupor. His eyes took on a glassy gaze; incessantly with his hands did he clutch at clothing, or brandish them in the air as if desirous of catching a quill. His breathing grew loud and hoarse; sweat cold, clammy and malodorous appeared on his skin. Then was he once more given elixir through the vein and the seizure it did return. This time a nose-bleed did ensue, coughing turned to vomiting, after which the male weakened entirely and became inert.
For two days more did symptoms not subside. The child’s skin, hitherto drenched in sweat, grew dry and hot, the pulse ceased to be full and firm – albeit remaining of average strength, slow rather than fast. No more did he wake, nor did he scream.
Finally, came the seventh day. The male awoke and opened his eyes, and his eyes were as those of a viper…”
~Carla Demetia Crest, The Trial of Grasses and other secret Witcher practices, seen with my own eyes, manuscript exclusively accessible to the Chapter of Wizards
When most people think of the Trials, they are thinking similarly to Queen Calanthe in Sword of Destiny.
Here is what Calanthe says to Geralt when talking about what he might do with his child surprise:
“You are astonished,’ she stated. ‘Well, I’ve studied a little. Since Pavetta’s child has the chance of becoming a witcher, I went to great pains. My sources, Geralt, reveal nothing, however, regarding how many children in ten withstand the Trial of the Grasses. Would you like to satisfy my curiosity in this regard?’
‘O Queen,’ Geralt said, clearing his throat. ‘You certainly went to sufficient pains in your studies to know that the code and my oath forbid me from even uttering that name, much less discussing it.’
Calanthe stopped the swing abruptly by jabbing a heel into the ground. ‘Three, at most four in ten,’ she said, nodding her head in feigned pensiveness.
‘A stringent selection, very stringent, I’d say, and at every stage. First the Choice and then the Trials. And then the Changes. How many youngsters ultimately receive medallions and silver swords? One in ten? One in twenty?”
Later Calanthe asks Geralt:
“Do you believe a Child of Destiny would pass through the Trials without danger?’
‘We believe such a child would not require the Trials.’
‘One question, Geralt. Quite a personal one. May I?’
He nodded.
‘There is no better way to pass on hereditary traits than the natural way, as we know. You went through the Trials and survived. So if you need a child with special qualities and endurance… Why don’t you find a woman who… I’m tactless, aren’t I? But I think I’ve guessed, haven’t I?’
‘As usual,’ he said, smiling sadly, ‘you are correct in your deductions, Calanthe. You guessed right, of course. What you’re suggesting is impossible for me.’
‘Forgive me,’ she said, and the smile vanished from her face. ‘Oh, well, it’s a human thing.’
‘It isn’t human.’
‘Ah… So, no witcher can—’
‘No, none. The Trial of the Grasses, Calanthe, is dreadful. And what is done to boys during the time of the Changes is even worse. And irreversible.”
Later:
“The risks are too great,’ Geralt said quickly. ‘As you said. At most, four out of ten survive.’
‘Dammit, is only the Trial of the Grasses hazardous? Do only potential witchers take risks? Life is full of hazards, selection also occurs in life, Geralt. Misfortune, sicknesses and wars also select. Defying destiny may be just as hazardous as succumbing to it. Geralt… I would give you the child. But… I’m afraid, too.’
Then in The Last Wish, Geralt describes his own experiences with The Trials:
“Kaer Morhen…That's where the likes of me were produced. It's not done anymore; no one lives in Kaer Morhen now. No one but Vesemir. Who's Vesemir? My father. Why are you so surprised? What's so strange about it? Everyone's got a father, and mine is Vesemir. And so what if he's not my real father? I didn't know him, or my mother. I don't even know if they're still alive, and I don't much care.
“Yes, Kaer Morhen. I underwent the usual mutation there, through the Trial of Grasses, and then hormones, herbs, viral infections. And then through them all again. And again, to the bitter end. Apparently, I took the changes unusually well; I was only ill briefly. I was considered to be an exceptionally resilient brat…and was chosen for more complicated experiments as a result. They were worse. Much worse. But, as you see, I survived. The only one to live out of all those chosen for further trials. My hair's been white ever since. Total loss of pigmentation. A side effect, as they say. A trifle.
“Then they taught me various things until the day when I left Kaer Morhen and took to the road. I’d earned my medallion, the Sign of the Wolf's School. I had two swords: silver and iron, and my conviction, enthusiasm, incentive and…faith. Faith that I was needed in a world full of monsters and beasts, to protect the innocent. As I left Kaer Morhen, I dreamed of meeting my first monster. I couldn't wait to stand eye to eye with him. And the moment arrived.”
So looking at this process, according to the books the way a Witcher becomes, well a Witcher looks like this:
There is the Choice which is the decision to become a Witcher made when you are a child
Eat a lot of magic mushrooms that give you the strength and ability Witchers are known for
Then the Trial of the Grasses which is a concoction of mutagenic elixirs injected into the bloodstream which mutates you into a Witcher
Then finally there are the Changes. This is a big step and one that requires a mage. This is when the hormones are changed and a Witcher becomes permanently sterile
then there is training until you earn your medallion and BOOM, out onto the path with you
This is why it’s such a big deal that Triss was brought to Kaer Morhen. Without a mage, someone cannot become a full Witcher and Triss believed that was why she was there. Of course, this wasn’t true but it’s a valid concern to have.
One thing I want to note, there is absolutely NOTHING in the text that says that being a Witcher is limited to any sort of gender boundary. The fact that Triss so readily jumped to Ciri becoming a Witcher and the fact that Geralt didn’t specify boys until he was talking about the sterilization process...well, there is a likelihood female Witchers actually existed.
Again, in the books Witchers are a dying breed and you can literally count on one hand the number of Witchers we meet. Of course, considering mages are the ones who made Witchers, it makes sense that female Witchers are either strongly discouraged, banned or simply not talked about.
One big point Triss has against Ciri’s training is that she won’t “develop” correctly like a woman “should” due to the mushrooms and harsh training and considering how so many northern mages place importance on beauty I could definitely see mages not wanting to have female Witchers, considering it a “perversion”.
Just a fun thought I often have about the books that I haven’t seen anyone point out.
So overall, here is what the books have to say about the Trials, it’s a touch different from the games but I find this very fascinating and interesting. Let me know if you want me to do a specific topic or relationship next, but for now, thanks for reading!
#I was actually thinking about making a post about what the schools look like in the books tonight#thought it might be intersting#the witcher#wtf series#the trials#the trial of the grasses#the changes#geralt#The Witcher netflix#the Witcher books#asaps#andrzej sapkowski#sword of destiny#blood of elves#the last wish#quotes#myposts#meta
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i can’t pretend | m. zibanejad
Word Count: 1,750 words Warnings: Vague hint of jealousy, mentions of alcohol Summary: There comes a time where feelings must be confronted and you can’t pretend like you’re anything other than how you feel in your heart. Mika Zibanejad x Reader Author’s Note: Fic title is from Don’t Let Go by En Vogue but I was very much inspired by the Lusaint cover <3
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Life is full of disappointments, despite all of our best intentions and no matter what we do to try and shield ourselves from them, sooner or later they will come knocking. You’d experienced disappointment before, of course you had, but none of them compared to the violent wrenching you felt in your stomach at the sight before you right now.
The loud music all around you faded into nothing and all you could focus on was the loud whoosh of your heart thundering in your ears, like a train passing at speed. Your eyes had suddenly found the vodka and coke you were holding very interesting and whatever conversation you’d been having with Chris and Pavel was quickly forgotten and while Pavel was still trying to work out exactly why your words had died on your tongue, Chris was surveying you with a worried expression and his hand was heavy on your knee.
Chris’s eyes had seen the same thing you had and he was perceptive enough to notice the way your face had fallen when Mika had walked into the bar with someone else, saw the way your shoulders sagged with the exhale of your breath and saw the sparkle that’d been in your eyes dull and diminish into nothing. He leaned in as he flexed his fingers on your leg reassuringly, voice low but still audible above the thumping bass.
“I had no idea he was bringing anybody, I swear.”
You shrugged nonchalantly at that, despite the ache in your chest and despite the tears that had suddenly begun to burn behind your lashes. “Mika can come out with whoever he wants.”
“Not when he was the one who invited you,” Chris countered, tone a little firmer this time but you knew him well enough by now to know that his annoyance wasn’t directed towards you. “What the hell is he playing at? Making such a big deal about you coming out with us tonight and then turning up with her.”
“It’s not a big deal, Chris. Can we just… can we just drop it? Please?”
Chris narrowed his eyes at you slightly, knowing you well enough to know that even you didn’t really believe the words that came out of your mouth but he was cognizant enough to know not to push and so he lifted his hands up in front of him, a wordless acceptance of what you were asking, before reluctantly going back to his Guinness.
You, on the other hand and despite yourself, couldn’t tear your eyes away from how the girl Mika had brought was draping herself all over him and how Mika seemed to like it. You weren’t entirely sure just how long you’d been staring and you were certain that the others would have started to notice how your eyes hadn’t moved at all since Mika had walked through that door; but even though it felt like someone was twisting a knife further into your gut with every second that passed, you couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere else.
It shouldn’t have surprised you really, that Mika wasn’t interested, that he didn’t see you in that way because when you looked at the woman with her arms draped around his neck and with her legs that seemed to go on for days, you realised that you were nothing alike and if that was his type then it was no wonder that he didn’t see you as anything more than his friend. You’d known Mika for the best part of four years now and while you were sure that there was more to the way he’d touch you and there was more to the softness in his eyes whenever he looked at you, you realised then that those touches and looks weren’t anything special, even if they felt that way to you.
It was the sight of his lips ghosting the shell of her ear that had you setting your glass down onto the table forcefully and reaching for your coat. He hadn’t even made it to the table yet but you knew that there was no way you were making it through the night without losing it and there was no sense in making things awkward for everybody else too. Better to leave now and lick your wounds in the privacy and solace of your apartment than be the subject of the quiet sympathetic looks you were sure would be sent your way.
“Wait, are you going?” Chris asked, the concern evident in his voice. “You just got here.”
“Headache,” you replied, your voice rough in your attempt to keep a lid on the emotions bubbling up from your chest to your throat.
“I’ll walk you home-”
“I’d really rather you didn’t,” you snapped, immediately regretting the hostility with which you replied upon seeing a momentary hurt flash across Chris’s face. “I mean, I’m okay, thanks. I-I can get home myself. Thanks for the offer though.”
You knew that Chris didn’t like that idea and you knew that he was just doing what a good friend should, but if you let him walk you home that would only give him an opportunity to talk about you and Mika and your feelings and you certainly didn’t want that, especially not now. Chris seemed to get the message because he simply nodded, albeit reluctantly. You picked up your purse and slipped out of the bar into the cool New York night without another word spoken to anyone.
Being as oblivious and wrapped up as he was, Mika hadn’t noticed you leave and so the confusion in his expression was evident when he approached the table and his eyes didn’t immediately find yours like they usually would. He went to speak but Chris cut him off curtly, eyes burning and jaw set.
“She went home.”
“Why?”
Chris gave Mika a pointed look and glanced quickly at the woman hanging from his arm before his stony stare found Mika’s eyes once more. “Headache,” he replied with a sharpness that Mika didn’t miss but took a couple of beats to catch up to everything that Chris wasn’t exactly saying.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Chris replied from behind his glass. “Maybe you should go check up on her? Make sure she’s okay.”
“Yeah,” Mika said quietly. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Within five minutes Mika had given his apologies to Sarah, or Jess, or whatever her name was and was sprinting through the streets of Manhattan towards your apartment. It’s funny how things only become clear when they suddenly start to slip through your fingers and Mika knew that this was one of those moments. He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner, for not seeing that you were right there in front of him, waiting on him to catch up and finally acknowledge just what sat between the two of you. It was the way his skin sparked whenever he touched you, it was the way his heart fluttered whenever you smiled or laughed, it was the way you understood just how crazy his life was and it was the way you understood the pressures he felt and the weight and expectation he carried on his shoulders. It was all of those things and more and Mika knew that if he really allowed himself to think about it, those were things that had been there since day one. He could only hope that he hadn’t thrown it all away in his complete ignorance.
He’d climbed the stairs to your apartment a hundred times before but the three flights had never felt as towering as they did right now. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d run the ten or so blocks to your place or perhaps it was the overwhelming fear that he’d thrown away the best thing he could’ve had, but either way Mika was sure that his heart was about to burst right out of his chest as he knocked urgently at your door.
His stomach dropped through the floor at the sight of your tear streaked face as you opened the door to him and he was ready to list every single reason why he was an idiot and tell you just how sorry he was but he was cut off and knocked back by the rawness in your voice.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you,” Mika rushed out, hoping beyond hope that you’d hear him out and not slam the door in his face.
“There’s nothing to say, Mika,” you replied in the best strong voice you could muster, not wanting to fall apart in front of him.
“Please-”
“I’m sure your girlfriend is missing you.” Your expression is stony as you look at him and your arms are folded tightly across your chest and nothing at all like the frantic look in Mika’s eye and the way he’s tearing his hands through his hair.
“She’s not my-”
“You know what, Mika?” you interrupt, deciding that you’re not in the mood to listen to whatever excuse was going to come out of his mouth. “You don’t owe me anything. You can go out with whoever the hell you want, but don’t bring me into it. Maybe it was my own fault for thinking that there might have been something more between us and that you wanted to be more than friends and I’m sorry about that but I can’t pretend, Mika. I can’t pretend that I don’t feel what I feel, okay? I’m miserable when you’re not around. I think about you more than I should. Fuck, I thought we were on the same page, I thought that maybe there was something different in the way that you looked at me and the way that you talked to me but I guess I was wr-”
The words coming out of your mouth died in the air as Mika’s hands cupped your face and his lips crashed into your own.
“Stop talking,” he breathed between kisses as his body pressed against yours and guided you back into your apartment, his foot kicking the door shut behind him as you went. “Just stop talking for one second.”
You knew that you needed to pull away, knew that you needed to stop this and for you both to use your words to work through this, but your heart betrayed your brain and your hands found themselves winding their way into his hair while you kissed him back with everything you had.
#my writing#mika zibanejad#mika zibanejad blurb#nhl blurb#nhl writing#hockey writing#hockey blurb#nhl fanfiction#hockey fanfiction
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Lone Traveler | Venti
pairing: venti x hurt! reader
summary: you often clear out hilichurl camps with amber and the knights but the one time you do it alone, something had to happen to you. fortunately, a certain (cute) bard had came to your rescue and come to send you back.
a/n: my first genshin fic!! of course it had to be venti hehe, hope you like it and massive apologies if he’s ooc/for any errors! send requests if youd like >3<
Fighting the hilichurls at night had become a hobby you recently developed after going out on random ‘clearing’ trips with the Knights of Favonius, specifically Amber, who on every occasion after the mission, treats you and Paimon to Good Hunter’s sticky honey roast.
All of you were a good team, whenever there was a bigger monster, you knew someone would always have your back, and every mission had always presented success, the worst injuries only being a few deep scratches that Barbara could heal easily.
But one day, you had decided that it was probably the perfect time to go out and venture alone. The knights were busy and feeling confident fighting by yourself, you had taken the opportunity. Paimon had stayed back, claiming that she doesn't want to go if the day wouldn't end with honey roast (not that she helps anyways), but you hadn’t minded, saying that you were just going not far out and if you don't return by morning, then she should maybe try and find you.
Though seeing as you had never done a solo venture out of Mondstadt before, it was no surprised you had gone lost in the woods as soon as you had entered the thick trees.
You had been walking for a while, and suddenly, you saw a small campfire. Assuming it was a friendly traveler such as yourself and in with your heart that had been beating with slight fear and uneasiness, you had quickly ran towards them without thinking twice hoping they would help you find your way back before the sun rose. but when you got closer, you had realized it was in fact, not a person. and when you had come to that conclusion, it had been too late as the first monster that had spotted you shot an arrow directly towards you, alarming the rest of the batch.
This was bad
You successfully were able to avoid the first arrow, but the moment got you distracted and in a blink of an eye, you found yourself being pushed and thrown by the force of a shield of a Mitachurl charging full speed at you. you feel your feet start to burn as they were dragged against the rough grass, and the painful sensation as you hit headfirst against the rubble.
“Ouch...” you groan quietly, reaching out to rub your head, but the moment you had pulled back, the hilichurls roared, as if releasing a battle cry to alarm the others.
Fuck
Deciding to be smart, you had gotten up and ran (half limped) away, finding it difficult to outrun the group of monsters but managing to get far enough to be out of sight from them who you definitely took note to deal with in the morning,
Or make someone else deal with them, you had thought as you sat down on the stone, thankful that you were able to trudge towards the big tree just outside Mondstadt and inspected the damage it had done to you. only then had you realized that the hand you had used to cover your head was sticky and moist, and the moment you focused, you saw it was red. you were bleeding.
Just great.
You looked up at the sky, blanketing Teyvat with litters of stars that had offered a little comfort at the moment; and released a small sigh. it was dark and you were lost, although you could just take the path back to Mondstadt, there was a high chance the monsters were waiting for you as stupid as they could be, and you really didn't think you could fight them at the moment with the gash on your leg and your bleeding head.
You shut your eyes tight, silently wishing that you hadn't decided to be so brave and venture on your own and regretting not forcing Paimon to come with you. this was it, you were over. sometimes you wished your other sibling was here for you. they’d know what to do.
But not a minute later, you feel it. a light breeze, a gust of wind passing just through you, as if gently caressing. you shivered, what was that?
It had been too brief to be a random wind passing, and when you opened your eyes, you understood why.
The moment you opened your eyes, you found yourself staring back into an unfamiliar pair of aqua orbs, wide and curious staring right into your soul, extremely close for your comfort. so naturally, as one who had just opened their eyes after trying to calm down after a fight and had assumed was alone would do, you screamed at the top of your lungs and moved back, trying to get as far as the strange person was from you.
“Woah, hey- calm down!” the person says, alarmed that you had started to run away from him. he starts to walk closer to you, and you assumed he was about to shut your mouth from how he had both hands outstretched over each other, so you only screamed harder.
“Okay, okay! I won't hurt you, see? I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently, eyes wide as if he was also afraid, trying to calm you down, and once you did, he smiles, “there we go. hey there! the name’s Venti, you okay?”
“What?” you asked in disbelief, because who was this person?! Why was he here? Were you being kidnapped? Is this a dream?
Venti frowns, “hey, don't look at me like that!” he says feigning offence, “you’re y/n, right? I saw you running away from those monsters earlier, you got beat really bad,”
“H-How did you know...?” you asked, slowly standing up, looking up at him as he had been taller than you, “and I’m a traveler and I know how to fight, I just... got surprised,” you insisted, not wanting to seem weak in front of the boy. you couldn’t see well, but you could tell he had dark blue to black hair with short twin braids (that strangely reminded you of the statue of the seven that had granted you with the power of anemo just before you had arrived in mondstadt).
He looked so familiar, yet you were certain you had never seen him.
“Oh, I just know,” he smiles, offering you a hand, “can you stand?”
“Are... are you from Mondstadt?” you ask, hesitant to take his hand. you glance down at his vision, a proud anemo symbol displayed on it. you hear Venti chuckle.
“Yeah!” he says, “but, not always. I mean,” he pauses, “if you’ll try to find me there, you won't be able to. I’m a bard,” he adds, as if it would help you understand better, “but you can trust me, don’t worry. I know this place well,”
“I’m perfectly capable,” you shook your head at his claims, “where did you even come from?!”
“I told you! I saw you running from those hilichurls and decided to come and help,” he pouts, arm dropping to his side, “Come on, you're hurt. I know you're capable but... I’ll-I’ll just bring you back to Mondstadt so I can know you arrived safely, promise!”
“I dont know...” you look around, fiddling with your fingers in fear. it was dark, and you weren't usually afraid of it or even the least bit bothered, but with what you had endured just minutes before, you were surely not going to return alone.
Sensing this, Venti breaks into a smile, “great! come on, now, I wouldn't let a fellow traveler go back alone! especially not the honorary knight!”
Deciding not to ask how he knew these things, you decided to take his hand and follow his lead towards Mondstadt, or at least, hope you were heading there now. you didn’t want to trust this self proclaimed ‘bard’, but the options were limited, and you really didn’t want to choose death in the obvious sense, which was in the hands of a hilichurl, probably found by Paimon a few hours later.
On your way back, you find out that Venti was definitely talkative. he had asked you a bunch of questions, and even offered to sing you some of his songs. the sun had slowly begun to rise just far into the horizon as you listened to the bard’s chatter, casually slipping in a few jokes that had the two of you laughing so hard that you had to stop for a moment at one point. and although he might be doing it out of pity for your bleeding (now dried up) head, you still felt warm whenever he talked passionately about Mondstadt and its people as if he ruled over them, albeit being quite mischievous.
You found your chemistry somewhat a match, as if… as if you had met him before.
Thankfully, there weren’t any hilichurls blocking the path on the way, so you didn’t have to deal with them anymore (or at least, for the time being. it was as if they had all left as soon as Venti arrived... or he had cleared them out the moment he saw you running away from them. either way, you were thankful the journey wasn't bothered)
“Here we are! Mondstadt! the city of freedom!” Venti smiles, his smile on par with the rising sun’s as he finally lets your hand go the moment you arrive at the bridge- that had been the moment you realized he had been holding your hand the whole time. gosh, I really trusted someone to bring me home.
“Well, I did bring you home, didn’t I?” Venti laughs, and you bite your cheek, feeling flustered that you had accidentally said your thought out loud, “I guess this is where we part!”
“Huh?” you asked, dumbfounded, “wait, where will you be going?”
Venti merely smiles, bowing dramatically for a brief moment, “around,” he states vaguely, “farewell, young one!”
“You’re saying that as if you’re not young yourself,” you mumbled, and at that, Venti bursts out laughing, causing you to look at him weirdly, “what? Isn’t that true?”
“you have no idea how many times I get that,” he wipes a tear dramatically, “well, until we meet again, traveler! be careful next time, or i might as well have to find you again,” he jokes, before waving you off, walking away from the bridge and back out the path and into the woods, where he disappears through the thick trees without turning back.
What an odd person.
So the next day, when you had ventured further than the usual route the knights cleared out, you silently hope you’d find him again.
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact venti#venti x reader#genshin impact venti x reader#genshin venti#genshin x reader#genshin venti x reader
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A thorough analysis on why Vah Medoh’s dungeon theme makes me want to cry
Yep, that’s an accurate title. Hi there! do you have a moment to hear about Breath of The Wild soundtrack? posting for yet a third time in hopes that tumblr won't hide it. I'm so tired
What started as a quick and harmless post, pretending to simply point out a couple of things, rolled downhill, out of my grasp and turned into a massive snowball of a short essay. How and why did this happen? Well, I assume a lot of people know about this song, and know what I’m talking about when I say that it makes me tear up and sob uncontrollably with every change in key as the seconds tick by and I spiral down into a dwell of misery from where I struggle to find the exit and to later recover.
……No?…..At the VERY LEAST it makes you a little uncomfortable. And I state this with much certainty, because after reading hundreds of comments everywhere online where this song is present, I picked up on a vast majority of people who expressed to feel the same way I did when it came down to our current music subject. See, statistics don’t lie… normally. So, naturally, my intrigue got the best of me. I wanted to find out exactly why this soundtrack was mercilessly stirring up everyone’s emotions, so I caved in and we ended up with this.
Buckle in, fellas.
Out of all Divine Beasts’ dungeon themes, Vah Medoh’s is the one that I can’t sit through. Not without growing antsy and wanting to turn it off as soon as possible. I find it genuinely difficult to listen to, and it’s not only because Revali is my favorite character and the song is just, plainly put, depressing, mind you.
We’ll start from 0 terminals activated.
It opens up similar to the other three dungeon themes; the pace is slow but eerie, gives off the impression that it sounds broken somehow. Something is off here, and it’s easy to figure out what that is from the get go: you’re basically entering a majestic, ancient, mechanical mausoleum, where everything went terribly wrong a century ago. Someone is gone, someone you knew, someone who was probably close to you, but it’s impossible to be sure. You don’t remember a thing, and this entire ordeal is confusing at best, and terrifying at worst. It’s your duty to make things right again.
It’s the same for all four Divine Beasts upon entering, save for the obvious little differences that separates them from each other and make them unique. Ruta’s is played on a major key, adhering to a sense of hopefulness. Naboris’s begins with a startling smashing of the piano keys, much like thunder of a sudden lighting strike. And Rudania’s theme starts threatening, dangerous, like scalding lava.
But now, back to Vah Medoh. The tone here is… alienating. The dissonant chords are all over the place, and feel disconnected, cold. It’s almost as if someone doesn’t want us to be here, or just like the elusive key, our presence is unexpected. Fitting, for a Divine Beast that’s high above the land, impossible for most to reach, yet we somehow made it. Apart from the piano, we have the occasional hint to rito culture, in the shape of a short, synthetic version of the rolled chords at the very beginning of Rito Village. A quiet reminder of where we come from. There is also, of course, the morse code distress signal, but we’ll talk more about that later.
As soon as this formal introduction is over, we finally get to the more, say, intimate stuff. Oh, and wouldn’t you know, it’s just tragic.
One terminal activated.
There’s no better short way I can describe this passage, other than anxiety-inducing. Especially when the strings come into play, and there’s two reasons I can think of why I feel this is an important thing to point out:
1- Characters and Symbolism.
I tend to associate stringed instruments, all of those which compose the violin family, with rito culture. And Revali, most specifically. In Creating a Champion we can see the early concept art and designs for all or most major characters in the game, and Revali’s highlighted rough design might be the one that changed the most throughout proper development of the character, out of all champions. He looks quite different from our usual depiction of him, it’s fascinating. What truly catches my eye, however, is the design of his bow.
You thought bird puns were bad? Oh boy, how do you feel about Revali having a bow that looks like a violin/cello/viola??? And do you need a bow to play it also??? Like, is it even an instrument or it’s nothing more than a mere fashion statement?-
Anyway. I believe this was originally going to be a not-so-subtle wink to rito culture, being heavily musically inclined as we can see and conclude for ourselves. Perhaps Revali was going to be a musician as well, now how cool it that!
Needless to say, the idea was eventually scrapped. But one detail I am CERTAIN carried over to the character we know and love today(okay not all of us love him but seriously if you dislike him why are you still here lol): strings. The association between bows(weapon) and stringed instruments, aside from being a quite clever and creative one, goes beyond the concept art and remains strong as part of Revali’s character, settling for having a presence via score. After all, Revali is a master of archery, so in that way it makes sense to keep strings as symbolism to reinforce the idea and drive it home.
But can you guess what other thing Revali excels at? That’s right: flying. He’s the only rito we know of who successfully managed to take advantage of wind currents and bend them to his will. And do you know what musical instruments are often used to evoke the feeling of flight and gale? If you thought of bowed strings, you’re correct! Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much support on this topic online, so you’ll have to take my word for it. I am most certain that this is fact, although not something worth discussing on the Internet, by the looks of it.
Anyhow, violins/cellos/etc are ever-present whenever we’re close to Rito Village or dealing with a rito related mission. Attack on Vah Medoh, for example, features a sequence of strings that is meant to evoke the strong winds we’re fighting against in that particular moment(*). Another great example is The Final Trial, the song that plays at the shrine of resurrection nearing the end of the Champions’ Ballad. Preceding the activation of each terminal, you’ll notice that a new instrumental element joins the crowd: the first one corresponds to the tambourines, related to the zora and Mipha; the second one are strings, referencing the rito and Revali, etc. I tell you, the moment I heard this during the trial I almost started crying like a baby. And, although strings have a lot to do with Rito culture in general, they tie most strongly to Revali, since he was the champion of his people, and his legacy carried over throughout the years. His accomplishments became material of folk tale, a legend, a source of pride and inspiration for the village. And let’s not forget that, at the end of the day, Revali is the crucial and foremost connection Link has to this place. Other than appeasing Vah Medoh, Link’s responsibility here is to free his past fellow champion’s spirit from Ganon’s malice. The soundtrack is referencing Revali first, and by extension his devotion to his home.
With all that in mind, let’s move on to our next point:
2- Nowhere to Go.
You shoot the canons, land on top of the Divine Beast, do what you gotta do, activate the first terminal and the soundtrack goes off unannounced. Like some sort of surprise anxiety bomb. The rhythm turns fast, the melody erratic, incredibly desperate in its execution. There’s this sheer despair, fear, this feeling of suffocation almost, which are so well achieved in this particular piece.
And that is, partially, because a quite familiar resource is used here as well; one that we’ve heard before in songs such as Rito Village or Revali’s theme. You could even think of it as a motif: two notes are played in an semitone interval, repeatedly and in quick succession. For the sake of later convenience, we’ll call this the Flight Motif, now let me explain why. In Breath of The Wild, this semitone loop is often followed up by some form of resolution. In Rito Village, formerly known as Dragon Roost Island(**), that resolution consists of a graceful descent of the melody, from a high that was built up previously during the motif. On the other hand, if you listen to Revali’s theme, you’ll notice that the interval repeats itself for a couple of times as thought charging up, to then rise fast and determined into a triumphal reprise of Revali’s distinctive assigned melody. This juxtaposition supposes the difference that lays between common rito flight and Revali’s trademark ability; both musical sequences are speaking of flight, albeit in two different languages depending on the way to achieve it. While the rito traditionally use their wings to glide and let themselves get swayed by the air currents Buzz Lightyear style, Revali takes full advantage of his flying capabilities to somehow create an updraft of his own, rising meters above the ground whenever he likes or needs to.
So, now that I layed out my base of thought when focusing on the strings, this’ll be much easier to explain. We’ve settled what the instruments themselves are a symbolic representation of Revali, in this scenario specifically. He was the only one inside Vah Medoh, and the score is, in a way, a retelling of what we can vaguely assume went down here during the Great Calamity, as much as it is what sets the tone and ambience for Link’s mission. But what are we hearing exactly? What we talked about, the Flight Motif, is being repeated nonstop. And that’s the thing, remember how I mentioned that this sequence usually finds resolution at the end? Well. Inside Vah Medoh,… it never does. The melody picks up in numerous occasions, but it’s not nearly as graceful, or calculated, as we’ve grown used to by now. It gets tangled and lost, and then inevitably falls to the ground in disarray. The pattern repeats itself, reaching higher after a handful of failed attempts, but no matter how much it tries, the cycle never ends. What used to tell us about flying and freedom in the skies, has morphed into an almost sinister musical incarnation of a tornado, and there is no way out of this trap. What do you think it must feel like to mindlessly flap your wings against wind currents so strong and violent, that it is impossible to get anywhere nearby, let alone take off every time you lose your balance. Or every time you’re shot down. On top of that, trying to aim and fight back in whatever short breaks and opportunities you get, at an enemy that’s much more powerful and relentless, who’s using your own element as a weapon to destroy you… it’s a risk Revali surely had to take in order to put up a fight. Even knowing full well that the odds were not in his favour, that he was most likely going to lose this battle, that he was going to die. Let that sink in. I’ll skip the activation of the second terminal, since there’s barely any change registered in the theme in general. So-
Three terminals activated.
I know this post is supposed to be a breakdown of the song purely, but that doesn’t mean there’s no place for a little theorising, and the following scrutiny is also quite relevant for our discussion. Bear with me for a bit. I’ve read almost everywhere about people’s most common interpretations on the Divine Beasts SOS signals, and how everyone thinks that Revali’s coming in last (a few seconds later than the other champions) has to do with him holding on for longer. Or, also, overconfident as he was, it means that the idea of calling out for additional support didn’t cross his mind until it was too late, and that’s why the beeping sounds more frantic and panicked than the others’ when it does appear. After giving it some thought myself, I’m betting on the latter option holding more ground, and that’s not all. I want to touch upon a detail of the piece that I never acknowledged was there until very recently(after seeing myself obliged to listen to this song fully and a handful of times, suffering every minute of it for the sole purpose of this analysis. It’s okay I didn’t need my heart anyway). Soon after activating the third terminal, the SOS signal disappears, or grows distant and faint enough that we can’t make it out from the background anymore. In its place, we’re confronted by this… shrill, piercing and painfully slow tune. It sounds synthetic, artificial, devoid of life. And it’s funny, because you know what it reminds me of? I’ll tell you:
A heartbeat flatline sound.
And I want to highlight that this doesn’t happen in any of the other Divine Beasts themes. All their SOS signals carry on, but Medoh’s is no more. This abrupt stop, followed by this bone-chilling tune…. makes me believe that Revali was the first of the champions to fall. A few days ago I came across SuperZeldaGirl’s video on a similar topic, theorising that this could very much be the case. There is not much evidence to support this claim other than some visual cues that could be suggesting to it, but after I found this in the soundtrack, and if we’re to rely on it for anything, I believe Revali was either the first champion to be ambushed by Ganon, or well…. the first to be killed. It is plausible, because short after Calamity Ganon unleashes his power, Revali parts from the group and flies directly to Vah Medoh, and he very well could’ve been the first pilot to arrive.
On this note…. we’ll have to wait and see for ourselves, when Age of Calamity provides long-awaited answers to many of our questions.
Four terminals activated.
An interesting melody is being played on what, for me, would qualify as a glockenspiel or a celesta, which are keyboard based instruments that produce a sound similar to that of a music box(***). If you want to pay more attention to it, I suggest listening to Vetrom’s Instrumental Mix Cover of the theme, where they practically zoom in on this part of the song (keep in mind that it uses the All Terminals’ time signature so it’s being played faster). For some reason, this particular addition makes me feel profound empathy. The sound of this instrument could be described as cute or childlike, magical, even. It is more often than not used to represent innocence, but I highly doubt that’s specifically the intention here. Much like the leading strings’ melody, the melodic contour of this one is trapped in a loop of going up and down constantly, but the difference is that this time around it sounds more under control. And much more uniform too. It doesn’t lose focus or takes risky, fruitless leaps, but rather chooses to stay on a path of waves that consistently rises and falls without taking detours. Like a determined battle strategy, giving it your all. You fall, but get back up again, and try again, and again. It reminds me of Revali’s approach to training, being persistent to the point of overworking himself. He had discipline nailed down to a tee, which I also think served him well in combat. It’s not just about being hard on yourself, either, but being confident and having complete faith in your abilities; believing that you’ll make it. For this to appear now, that the SOS signal is almost completely gone, is significant because it means that by this point, being so close to success on Link’s behalf, the music is sparing genuine encouragement for once, in spite of the tragic outcome of the past and the danger of the current situation. But, in all honesty, this is probably just me reading too much into it. Perhaps the composer just thought this addition sounded pretty bitching and there’s not much else to it, which is completely fine. Although, intentional or not, sometimes coincidences do happen, and at the end of the day, interpretations like this are a form of appreciation for an artist’s work and for what they can unknowingly accomplish.
All terminals activated.
This is the moment when the song finally lightens up. Notice how the strings abandon the wave pattern for a more even contour. The beat quickens, the melody stabilizes. At first I thought, coming from our flight analogy, that this meant a cease in movement entirely, and it was partly one of the reasons why the song in general makes me anxious. But thinking about it now, …there is something different going on here. The strings are playing on a steady rhythm. It resembles a march, it’s like a pounding heart. It’s a lively, hopeful statement. And what’s interesting is that, up until this point, there was so much fear and helplessness present in the score, even going as far as to reach a dead end when we activate the third terminal. But that’s it, isn’t it? the music just keeps going further.
It’s saying: this isn’t over yet. Even after complete and utter defeat, there’s still hope and an underlying wish to overcome this predicament, and we started to hear this as soon as a fourth terminal is activated. The melody we previously talked about? it’s here as well, and its beat is much more daring and confident.
And I just want to say… this is so powerful. Because this sentiment is deeply tied to the game’s story and Revali’s character arc. You see, he is introduced as someone who resents Link for being the manifestation of his failure, in a way, because Revali has trained arduously his whole life to be where he is, to be recognised. And yet… this hylian gets chosen by a magic sword and some tale of divine destiny and, apparently, that’s all it takes for him to be deemed the hero that will save the land. In Revali’s eyes, Link has done nothing to prove his worth before him, so it is easy to see why he despises the silent knight so much; he is yet another individual that was born into their destiny. Meanwhile, Revali has had to build his reputation from the ground up, earning him a place among the greatest warriors of Hyrule, and even then he finds himself surrounded by people who grew up praised for being born gifted. We can see how Revali is the odd one out, and can map out the reason for him acting so antagonistic towards Link.
But once we’re on Medoh, things start to change. When Link enters the Divine Beast, Revali greets him with disdain, as per usual. Of course, Link has no recollection of whatever happened a hundred years ago, other than a small glimpse of the rito champion talking down to him, a memory that came and went in a flash. So as Link, we more than expect Revali to act cold and mocking, which he does. He provides us with as little help as needed in order to free Medoh, reluctantly, shielding his wounded pride over having to wait for Link, of all people, to come to their rescue. But you can hear him starting to open up bit by bit(I wish I could translate his dialogue directly from Japanese but I’ll make do with a couple of dubs and other numerous sources from translators online). With each little step Link takes towards success, activating the terminals, the perception Revali has of him shifts from one of resentment to one of genuine admiration and respect. By the end of it all, he is willing to not only cheer on Link during the boss battle, but to trust him with his life’s worth achievement. And once left alone, he admits defeat and lets go of his bitterness, realising that he was wrong to underestimate Link, and later wishes he could’ve had a chance to measured up to him. To take all of this into consideration and work with it in the soundtrack I think it’s genuinely splendid. And for once, I am grateful that it ends in somewhat of a positive note that puts my soul to rest. I still have a hard time listening to the first two thirds of the entire thing, but now I can look forward to a hopeful and earnestly heartening conclusion for all the pain that this composition puts me in. I must admit that it’s beautifully and brilliantly crafted, and that I am enamoured of it regardless.
That is why I wrote roughly 4k words about it! I hate myself!
If you’re as crazy as me about the soundtrack of this game, I recommend you read the published cd interview with the composers themselves! if you haven’t already. I just found it yesterday(unbelievable but it’s true) and… after writing all of this and checking it out, I felt validated. It sure is a one of a kind feeling.
Alright folks, we’ve made it to the end. Congratulations for sticking around and thanks being interested in my nonsensical rambling!
I also hope that you, like me, will now be unable to listen to bowed strings without being reminded of Revali. Good luck!
————– Annotations/Sidenotes/Whatever
(*)The Flight Motif(in point number 2) is also present in this track. We can hear it in the background right after the Rito leitmotif, as per usual. It starts with a clarinet, I think, before the strings take the lead. (**) Note that the Flight Motif only comes into play in the Breath of The Wild rendition of the song. (***)I strongly associate this instrument with Mipha, given that it is used in her theme, in every “response” to the initial melody. It can be heard in Attack On Vah Ruta, as well, it enters the scene when the notes Mi(E) and Fa(F) are played. The initial tune, Si and Do(B and C) are played on a clarinet or oboe, wind instruments just like the flute that leads Sidon’s respective theme. The celesta can also be heard inside Vah Ruta, activating the first terminal…. when the song really takes a turn just like Medoh’s. Mipha has nothing to do with the song of this analysis, however. We must understand that instruments, although they are attached to characters/various story elements in some cases, can always be used outside of that context, for that is the nature of an orchestral soundtrack. If you have this many tools at your disposal, you will make good use of them.
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Word prompt for fic: headphones
ok first of all i am so sorry for how long it’s taken me to get back to you with this but. yes
here’s a little juke fluff based on the word headphones (i apologise in advance for how basic this is)
without any further ado
—
study break (AO3)
“Hey Jules, what’s up?”
Julie was sat on the couch in the living room, trying to get through the massive pile of homework her teachers had decided to throw at them throughout the last week. She had spent the whole morning trying hard to focus on the task at hand, and ignore the very strong pull that led straight to the studio.
“Hey, Luke.” She looks up at her band mate as she pulls out one of her old wire earphones from her ear. She foregoes pausing the music, hoping that by doing so, it might help keep this interruption brief. She can’t get distracted, and unfortunately, she is very aware of the fact that just by having Luke in the same room as her, she was already fighting a losing battle.
“I’m just trying to get through this,” she gestures vaguely to the scattered mess of books and notes and pens and highlighters littering the overpopulated coffee table. “Teachers are throwing work at us faster than we can keep up.” Julie hunches forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she rubs her face with the palms of her hands, hoping to wipe away the headache she can feel coming on.
She feels the sofa dip to her right, suddenly very aware of the teenage boy (ghost) sitting next to her.
“You don’t look too good Jules. Maybe you should take a small break? Doesn’t matter how much work you try to get through in this state - if you burn yourself out too quickly, you won’t be able to finish.”
With her head still resting in the palms of her hands, Julie turns her head, her eyes peeking through the strands of curls falling between them. He’s looking at her in earnest, and she’s finding it exceedingly hard to say no (even though she knows she really, really should).
As she continues debating with herself internally, Luke reaches over with his hand, something purple and glittering in it, pushes her curls out of her face, and pins them back.
“Where did you get that?”
Luke looks at her sheepishly even as his hand lingers on hers cradling her face for a second before he pulls away.
“I- uh, I found one lying around the studio the other day. I guess I kept it in my pocket in case of emergencies.” He shrugs, trying to brush it off with a quiet, albeit awkward, chuckle.
“Emergencies?” Julie was finding it hard to control the smile quickly taking over her face at Luke’s reddening cheeks.
“Ya, you know,” He clears his throat, scratching at his hair as he tries to look nonchalant. “In case you hair got in the way and I suddenly couldn’t see your face anymore.” Wink.
Even as she felt her own cheeks start to redden in turn, Julie stood her ground.
“Really?” She deadpanned.
“Cross my heart and hope to die!”
She smacks his shoulder, trying hard not to giggle. “Not funny!”
He nudges her with his shoulder, an easy grin on his face.
“Come on, you know it was.”
She shakes her head at him, as her attention is brought back to the music still playing in her ear. She pulls her phone to her with the earphones wire, and starts scrolling through her playlist, trying to find a song that might motivate her to focus back on the work at hand.
“What’re you listening to?” Luke leans over her shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the song names passing by on her large screen.
“Uh, I’m just trying to find something to listen to on my study playlist. These songs usually help me focus...although I’m definitely finding it hard to do that right now.” She shoots him a pointed stare, as he curls a strand of her hair around his digit.
“Whatever do you mean?” He asks, a picture of perfect innocence.
She just stares back at him, unimpressed.
“Come on Jules! I told you, you need to take a break. You’ve been cooped up in here for like 4 and a half hours now.”
“You’ve been keeping track?”
“Of course. What else do you think I do when you’re not around?”
“Uh, not count the hours spent apart? Write music? Do ghost things?” She shakes her head at him, not really sure whether to laugh or cry. “You know, normal stuff?”
“Where’s the fun in that.” He moves in a little closer, eyes fixed on her playlist. “There’s not much ghost stuff to do that’s super exciting, plus I write better when we’re working together. You know that.”
She’s not sure what to say to that, so she turns her head and continues scrolling.
“I’ll make you a deal. You take a half hour break - we can literally just sit here and listen to some music - of your choosing of course - and then I swear I’ll leave you alone.”
Julie moves her head slightly to her right, trying to get a better look at her band mate.
“Half an hour? And then I can go back to work? No interruptions, no distractions?”
Luke’s chin dips slightly as he nods, his eyes trained on hers. He then grins at her, tacking on a last minute term. “For another 4 hours.”
Julie rolls her eyes at him, a small smile playing on her lips. Alright then, she can do that. And it’s not like she hasn’t been counting down the hours until she could finally spend some time with her boys (read: Luke). So she nods, her eyes already moving back to her phone screen.
“Alright, fine. But only half hour.” She reached over and grabs the left earphone, passing it on to Luke.
“I hear better with my right ear.”
She looks at him for a second, confused. He stares at her, then looks pointedly at the L earbud in her hand.
“....Luke, you’re a ghost.”
“So?”
“You don’t- never mind. Fine then..Move, we’ll need to switch sides.”
“I don’t see why that’s necessary. This is perfectly fine.”
“You’re on my right, yet you want the right earpiece. I hate using the wrong earphone for the wrong ear, so no. Switch.”
“We don’t have to use the wrong ones, just pass me the right one.”
“These are wired earphones..They’re not long enough for this.”
“Sure they are.” He reaches over as he snatches the Right earphone from her fingers, pops it in his ear and waits for her to do the same. Julie purses her lips at the ridiculousness of this situation, but grabs the dangling Left earbud and puts it in.
They’re now much closer to each other, his head nearly resting on her shoulder, his cheek brushing against hers. And Julie is starting to think that this was Luke’s plan all along.
“Hm, actually you’re right. This isn’t working.”
She’s about to retort, the words ‘I told you so’ on the tip of her tongue, when she suddenly feels hands grabbing her waist and hoisting her up. She squeals, arms flailing a little until she’s settled back down. Onto Luke’s lap.
His arms snake their way around her, coming to rest on her stomach.
“Okay- this works.”
He rests his head on her shoulder, pressing his cheek against hers more firmly. She can even feel the tips of his hair tickling her temple.
“Was this your plan all along?”
“Ah, but a magician never reveals his secrets.”
“Wh- Luke what are you talking about? There was absolutely no magic trick involved in any of this.”
“But it’s always magic when I’m with you.”
“...No.”
“Come on, that was cute.”
“No.”
But neither one could miss the large smile taking over Julie’s face as she leaned back against Luke’s chest, eyes glued on her phone screen, ready to enjoy her well deserved half hour break.
FIN
#ask#ask prompt#jatp#julie and the phantoms#juke#i’m not sure i’m posting this on my AO3 cause i’m not sure i’m happy with it? but we’ll see#i really hope you like it tho and again sorry for the delay ♥️♥️#otp: you’re music to me#i’m feeling weirdly down about my writing today hm#jatp fic#my fics#thedeathdeelers fics
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Oohh, could you please write the nonsexual prompt sharing a dessert for Outpost Michael and reader? Who wouldn't want to share a dessert with him? Thank you so much. You really are an angel 😇
A/N: anon you are too fucking sweet omg 🥺💖 I hope I didnt dissapoint with this, I'm sorry it's so late and unnecessarily long!! Lmfao. The dessert eating is at the end if anyone wants to just skip to that part hehe. I wanted to write some mutual pining so.. that's why this fic is so fucking long lol
Warnings: eating, food, lil bit of sexual tension, very brief mentions of Millory and also Gallant x Michael 👉🏻👈🏻
Living in Outpost three was beyond miserable. Constantly being treated as a second class citizen, as a gray, was definetly doing its number on you.. Every day that you continued to stay alive in this hellhole you swore you slowly descended further and further into madness. Eating gelatin cubes.. being around the same exact people, day in and day out.. with nothing else to do but to clean, with no end in sight was only a recipe for disaster.
And disaster seemed to come with a name; Langdon.
You didnt believe him when he announced that he was going to pick a select few to take with him to the sanctuary; you knew that was fucking bullshit.. but you had to admit - it was amusing watching the other outpost residents finally get a spark of excitament in their eyes. A reason to be alive.
You watched him take interest in mainly Gallant and Mallory; and that's when you felt something.. distant yet familar. Yearning; attraction, and maybe even jealousy.
It reminded and made you nostalgic of old emotions that you used to feel regularly; which now only visited you vaguely whenever you caught Michael stare for a second too long at either of them.. but it wasnt your job to monitor the relationships that were allegedly occurring.
You kept your head down until you begrudgingly got an interview; honestly surprised at first that Langdon seemed to be giving you a shot at salvation at all.
You were even more surprised at how the actual interview seemed to unfold; how disgustingly touch starved you were and the way in which you reacted to him. You were praying that Langdon didnt notice how your entire body was littered with goosebumps the second he touched you - a harmless gesture with his hand lightly touching your back when he walked by. Or the pure exhilaration you felt when he brushed a tear away from your cheek.. It was honestly embarrassing.
Even more embarrassing was how much you craved to see Langdon again as soon as you left the first interview.
The days following the first initial interview were torturous for you. Your days and even nights became infested with thoughts of Langdon; his blonde locks and light blue eyes even started to follow you and become familar in dreams..
You couldnt stop thinking about him.
You knew it was stupid to crave romance; it was utterly irrational. For one, if Venable were to even catch you looking at Langdon for a couple seconds too long - you knew she would want your head on a stick. That's not even to mention how jealous Gallant and the other residents would possibly be, if anything were to happen.
These thoughts were not realistic though because you knew Langdon never viewed you like that. He treated you just as he did anyone else.. maybe even worse. He always kept his words short with you and rarely made eye contact most days.
For those reasons; you wrote off your newfound romantic thoughts about Langdon as nothing more but dumb daydreams. Just something to keep you occupied in the day while you tried to make the outpost look spotless. You figured it was a result of being beyond bored; your mind trying to find something to make life interesting once more. Anything.
That was.. until Langdon invited you for another interview. One interview quickly turned into another.. and another.. and another until seeing Langdon privately was nearly the new normal.
The more you two continued to meet; the more your feelings for him only grew but you still chose to conceal them - well, to the best of your abilities anyway.. there was only much you could hide. However; if you didnt know Langdon prematurely, you wouldve thought he was a idiot or just purely naive for not picking up on the obvious crush you had.
It had been a couple nights now since you had last seen him.. And yet here you were; having another sleepless night that consisted of thinking of dumbass Langdon.
You stayed awake sleepless in your bed. Or.. the bed that was meant to be yours anyway. Nothing like felt home or like it was truly yours at Outpost Three though. You stared at the ceiling hopelessly; wishing you would be so lucky to feel a wave of drowsiness that could hit you and carry you off to your dreams.
You immeadietly sat up and nearly jolted out of bed when you heard three loud knocks rattle your door. The sound was distinct but haunting.. your immediate thought was Venable.. you could only help but to think what the fuck you had recently done to piss her off.
You swiftly walked through the nearly pitch black room and opened the door absentmindedly; trying to not let your paranoid thoughts control your actions and let you hesitate.. just in case it happened to be Langdon.
You would be lying if you were to say that you werent dissapointed when you found no one there; only a letter lay folded neatly on the floor.. directly in front of you.
Snatching it and opening it within the safety of your room; you had to hold back laughter when it was from Langdon - another invitation to go see him.. but it was marked urgent.
You nearly dropped the letter on the floor immeadietly; it wasnt as if you had anything else to do - you already knew you werent going to be able to sleep tonight anyway. You immeadietly took off, albeit as quietly as possible, off to Langdons office. Trying to keep your thoughts of what the hell he wanted to see you so badly for, at bay.
When you reached his room, you didnt bother knocking. You slipped right inside - knowing that knocking would only possibly wake Venable up or alert other residents of your whereabouts. Shutting the door behind you, you slowly approached him.
He sat at his desk; quickly turning around to face you as you entered. His light, ocean colored eyes were wide in what you could only guess was surprise that you came so soon. His mouth was slightly curved into a subtle smile.
"Hi". You uttered with a airy, soft laugh.
You first stood, knowing he would most likely want you to take a seat but you would rather wait for instructions than to just.. assume. You knew Michael had little to no tolerance but surely enough, he nodded at the seat that was directly across from his at the desk.
"Sit". Michael instructed, his gaze followed you as you steadfastly did as you were told.
You realized how carefully Michael was studying you as you walked over and took your seat.. and maybe it was because of the absolutely horrible lighting but you could swear you could almost see blood rushing to his cheeks..
Was he.. blushing??
You sat, completely puzzled as you watched Michael suddenly act flustered.. His motions changing from smooth and calculated to nearly awkward.. and.. just rather odd in a instant. He looked as if he wanted to say something but no words were spoken, that is - until you made the first move.
"Is something.. wrong"? You asked, trying your hardest to bite back laughter.
Seeing Langdon act so.. not like himself was basically pure comedy to you. Although you would never admit that outloud of course.
He now looked uncomfortable; licking his lips and clasping his hands together at the table before speaking.
"(Y/n), I have to talk to you about something". Michael admitted.
His expression changed from looking rather nervous to serious again; his mouth in a straight line and the muscles in his face relaxed.
You were quite literally sitting on the edge of your seat, your stomach started to do somersaults as you desperately tried to rationally think of what he wanted to say..
"Yeah, of course. What's wrong"? You prompted, your voice coming across as unsteady.
You tried your hardest to not let your voice shake as you spoke, although you were more than certain it showcased exactly how you felt.
Langdon unfolded his hands; appearing to study his rings momentarily before his blue eyes pierced yours - looking as if they were staring right past you.. Not necessarily at you at all.
"Look; theres nothing wrong. You just need to know that theres no need to be nervous around me anymore". Langdon stated matter of factly.
He maintained eye contact with you; diligently waiting for a response as you actually tried to comprehend what he was saying.. Was he implying that you were going to the sanctuary?? Or.. possibly even something else?? Something more?
Your confusion must've been apparent on your face because before you could say anything, Langdon cut in.
"That's not why I asked you to be here with me tonight though. I wanted to.. reward you". He said.
You felt as if your heart had skipped a beat; nearly feeling woozy as your cheeks heated up. A reward?? Saying you felt speechless was a incredible understatement.
"A reward"?? You echoed your thoughts aloud.
Your words came out slow and strained with pure anticipation for what was to perhaps happen. You thought for a split second this had to be some kind of sick joke, or some kind of sick manipulation game. You wouldnt really be surprised; you overheard from the others he was famous for pulling that kind of shit.
"Yes, For giving me company. Close your eyes". Michael answered.
You immeadietly, and dumbly followed orders. However; as soon as you closed your eyes you felt fear pierce your heart. The uncertainty and possibilities of what could happen was jarring - but you had to admit it was also thrilling.
The past few months had been so fucking predictable and boring, a bit of excitement was well over due and actually.. probably healthy. Even if it was fucking terrifying.
You could hear him moving, and then something being placed on his desk in front of you. You first felt your eyebrows furrow as you opened your eyes unwillingly. Pure surprise forcing you to do so and to disobey Langdon.. oh fuck.
You opened your mouth to utter an apology but.. your gaze first caught onto the object in front of you.. leaving you speechless and with your mouth agape.
You marveled at the small slice of cheesecake was that put in front of you.. It looked entirely to good to be true; this had to be a dream.. or maybe a nightmare??
This last time you had eaten anything with any kind of remote flavour had been eons ago. Those memories served you well and made your horrifically boring days a little less painful.
You continued to blankly stare at it; not daring to move, or breathe but.. to just enjoy the view. You were half expecting for this to be some of torture again; for him to rip it away from you but a part of you reassured you that.. this was different. This was him trying, and being genuine.
You looked up to meet Langdons eyes as they intently studied you. A faint smile gracing the corner of his lips. A beautiful sight you rarely got the priviledge of admiring.
"Have some". Michael said, nodding down in direction of the dessert. "I thought you would appreciate the gesture. I cant imagine the shit Venable gives you is enjoyable". Michael sneered with a hint of laughter.
You couldnt help but to let out a giggle as well, looking down once more and noticing that the plate was also embellished with two forks.
"Thank you, Michael. You should have some too though, I dont want to be selfish-" You started, unfolding your hands from your lap and beginning to push the plate towards him.
He quickly stood up and walked up to you, stopping until he was beside you. He grabbed your wrist, tight enough to make you wince but not enough to cause any actual pain - making eye contact again.
"No.. I want to watch you have the first bite". Langdon said.
In a split second, the chair that was once behind his desk materialized right next to you, directly behind him. He sat down, watching you intently as you started to feel stupidly nervous again.
Your hands trembled a bit as you reached to grab the fork, swiftly taking a piece and then quickly consuming it. You figured the faster you took the first bite - the less nervous you would be.. but his gaze continued to linger on you; intensely watching.
The pleasure you were momentarily wrapped in was insurmountable to anything you had previously felt in months. You had to ground yourself in order to not let a moan escape your mouth.. The rich flavor tasting so unreal; almost too good to be true.
To be completely honest, you forgot that Langdon was there at all until you noticed him grab a fork as well. Also taking a bite and continuing to watch you - clearly amused with your reaction.
You two continued to eat in silence; meanwhile you momentarily began to get lost in your own thoughts yet again. You knew he didnt have to do this; he very well could've just.. had the dessert with someone else, like Mallory, or even enjoyed it by himself, but he purposefully chose you...
Your cheeks grew hot at the thought of how he seemed to subtly state that he returned your affection. You knew there was no way that he didnt know that you harbored feelings for him; the way in which you acted flustered in his prescience had to be a dead give away.
An hour or so later you walked back to your room; the night slowly cutting into the early hours of the morning but you really couldnt care less. You really didnt care about anything, even if Venable found you. The last thought you had before you took a very shortlived nap, was how much of a sneaky bastard Langdon truly was.
Taglist: @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @beyond-repentance
#michael x reader#michael langdon x reader#michael langdon fanfic#michael langdon fanfiction#ahs fanfiction#asks#anon#my fic#lemme know if yall wanna be on the taglist#i hope this is good LMAO i feel like the beginning is wonky but.. idk. i hope michael isnt ooc 😬#this has so much unnecessary detail but im not even sorry djdjd#reader is also a simp for a michael lmfao#also i chose cheesecake for the dessert cause im a hoe for cheesecake and thats the first dessert i thought of 😭
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Hii!!☺️ could i request Barba x reader, where raf is seriously injured and the reader takes care of him, and he is so moved that someone had never cared and loved him like that🥺🥺, please? 🤗 your writing is amazing i love it!! 🥰💕
Taking Care
A/N: Hey anon <3 This got...this is much longer than I expected it to be haha. I tried to not make Rafael too self-deprecating...if I do a part two though, then he may go full self-hating....
Tags: bullet wounds, mentions of needles/blood
Words: 3109
Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @ben-c-group-therapy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @dianilaws
You finished washing your hands quickly, hurrying out of the courthouse bathroom. You usually didn’t duck out during trials, but you didn’t know when the next recess would be, and you needed to excuse yourself. Besides, you had been there for the victims, and you had left during Rita Calhoun’s, the defense attorney’s, posturing; you didn’t need to be there for that. You had just made it back to the courtroom as Judge Ortiz was calling it for the night. Of course. You rolled your eyes; that was just your luck.
“Welcome back, Detective,” Rafael quipped, a sardonic smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
You shot him a playful glare. “I blame you; you’re the one that got me that large coffee during lunch.”
He really did smirk at you this time. “I did, didn’t I? I think that means you owe me a drink. Forlini’s?” You smiled back at him; you and Rafael were good friends, and you enjoyed his company…maybe a little too much. Not that you’d tell him that.
“Sounds good to me. Right this way, counselor—” you were cut off by a gunshot, ringing out in the courthouse. People screamed, ducking their heads. You reached for your gun, drawing and aiming at the defendant, who had somehow gotten the bailiff’s pistol, who was now aiming at you. But you were quicker, shooting him once in the chest. It wasn’t until you watched him hit the ground that you remembered he shot first. Eyes scanning the courtroom, you froze, hesitating for a moment when you saw Rafael on his back, blood seeping through his expensive suit at his left shoulder.
“Fuck,” you muttered, dropping to your knees by his head. You ripped your jacket off, pushing it to the wound. His eyes were wild, and he was gasping for air. If it wasn’t for all your years on the force, you’d probably be panicking as much as everyone else in the courthouse was. Hell, you were panicking, but on the surface, you were calm, professional.
“10-13, shots fired, officer down, send a bus to the courthouse now,” you ordered into your portable radio. You didn’t care if he wasn’t an officer; it was the quickest way to get an ambulance. You leaned over Rafael, trying to make eye contact with him. “Can you hear me, counselor?” you asked, keeping your voice level. “What’s your name? Can you tell me where you are?” His eyelids fluttered closed, and your hands started to shake. “Come on, talk to me…stay with me Rafael, do you hear me? Open…open your eyes…come on!”
You vaguely noticed people standing around you, hovering and looking down on you both. “Stand back, please. Give us some room,” you said, waving at them with a hand. They shuffled back, giving you some air. “Come on, Raf…stay with me, baby…you’re not going to die here, dammit,” you muttered. Where was that damn ambulance?
You swore your heart stopped when his chest did. Glancing up, you saw Rita standing and watching, eyes wide. “Rita, hold the jacket to his wound,” you ordered. She hesitated for only a moment before she was on the ground next to you, hands replacing yours. “Just hold it there.” Thank god you were certified in CPR; you pumped Rafael’s chest, stopping only to breathe into his mouth. You were dimly aware of how soft his lips were—you had wanted to know how his lips felt for so long, but this was not how you wanted to find out. You had to do this process twice more before Rafael was breathing again, and you sighed in relief. You took the jacket back from Rita, letting her rest back on her heels, in shock that one of her friends is in Death’s grasp.
Finally, the paramedics were pushing through the crowd. “He was shot with a 9mm and I had to perform CPR; he stopped breathing for maybe 10 seconds,” you reported as they loaded Rafael onto a stretcher. “I’m riding with him.” You turned back to Rita. “Call Olivia—let her know what happened and to meet me at the hospital.” It wasn’t until you got into the back of the ambulance, the sirens wailing, and saw Rafael with an oxygen mask on, medic’s frantically trying to keep him alive, that the tears started to fall.
*******************
“He lost a lot of blood,” the doctor was telling you. “We called his mother; she has the same blood type. All we can do is hope she makes it in time.”
“Wait; I’m type O negative. Can’t I donate to him?” you asked, heart in your throat.
The doctor looked surprised. “Yes, of course. Let’s get you prepped.” You followed him to a secluded room. He ran a quick test, to confirm that you were indeed O negative, and then he placed a needle in the crook on your arm, ordering a nurse to bring you water.
By the time you were done donating blood and heading towards the waiting lobby again, albeit a little lightheaded, Olivia was there, along with the other SVU detectives…and Rafael’s mother, Lucia.
Lucia came to you, hands on your shoulders and shaking you slightly. “Where’s my Rafi? Is he okay?” The shaking made you feel dizzy, nauseous. Olivia must have seen the look on your face, because she gently pulled Lucia from you.
“He lost a lot of blood, Mrs. Barba. I gave him some of mine, but we should ask the doctor if it was enough, or if you need to give some, too,” you said, leading her back to the nurse who just helped with you. Lucia’s eyes had sparkled when she noticed the bandage around your arm.
********************
As it had turned out, just your donation was enough, and Rafael would make a full recovery. He was staying in the hospital for at least 48 hours before he’d be released. And during those 48 hours, you’d be fighting IAB about the shooting. You were only able to visit with Rafael once while he was in his hospital bed—he was just as snarky and sarcastic even with morphine pumping through his system. You had brought him a bouquet of flowers and a small assortment of expensive chocolates that you knew he liked. His mother had thanked you profusely for being in the courtroom when he was shot, for staying with him until he was taken to the hospital, and for donating blood when she wasn’t there.
“You…you donated blood?” Rafael asked, his ears slightly pink.
You smiled sheepishly. “Yeah…I’m O negative, universal donor and all that…guess that’s payback for the large coffee?” you joked.
He had a small, tight smile, a nod. “Sure…thank you.”
******************
You were finally cleared by IAB, but Olivia wasn’t letting you back to work yet, telling you to take some time off. The therapist that ran your psych evaluation had reported that you were still in shock from the shooting, that you were shoving all your feelings down instead of dealing with them. Olivia said that until you dealt with them, you were out. So, you found a therapist, started working through everything. And they suggested talking to Rafael, making sure he was alright. Because deep down, you blamed yourself for his injury.
Which is how you ended up on his doorstep, a container of your family’s minestrone soup in your hands, knocking on his door and waiting. You were greeted by Lucia Barba, who smiled brightly when she saw you.
“Oh! [Y/N], how are you?” she asked, beckoning you inside.
You moved past her, into the loft, sniffing appreciatively at whatever she was cooking. “I’m doing well, ma’am. How are you? And Rafael?”
“I’m going insane,” Rafael’s voice came from the couch in his living room, and his mother scoffed. He struggled to a sitting position, grimacing and grunting the whole time, and Lucia hurried over to help him.
“Rafi, stop being so damn stubborn,” she admonished, readjusting the pillow behind him.
He huffed out a soft “sorry, Mamí,” and you smiled. “But you really should be going back to your school; they’re missing you.”
“Nonsense; my little mijo was shot. I’m not leaving you alone,” Lucia said, kissing his forehead.
Rafael’s eyes darted around the loft, landing on you standing there awkwardly. “B-but I’m not alone! [Y/N] is here; I’ll be fine.”
She glanced at you, eyes narrowing in the way that mother’s who are being replaced do. You swallowed nervously. “Uh, y-yeah! I’m here to check up on Rafael…look, I brought soup!” You lifted the container of soup, and Lucia glared daggers at you.
“Fine, I’ll go. But you call me if you need anything,” and then she said a bunch of things in Spanish that sounded suspiciously like threats. You saw Rafael’s eyes widen, and he nodded, swallowing hard. You both sat there in awkward silence as she packed her things and left.
“Thank you,” Rafael finally said after she was gone.
You came to sit across from him, taking in his appearance. Despite the bruising still visible, peeking out from underneath the collar of his shirt, he looked well-rested. This was probably the most sleep he’d ever gotten
“Anytime. How’re you feeling?” you asked.
“Like I was shot,” he smirked.
“Well, I got news for you, Raf.”
Rafael gave you a playful glare. “Don’t be a smartass.”
You both chuckled until he winced, huffing in pain. “You okay? Anything I can do?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, his head leaning back on the couch. When he caught you giving him a pointed look, Rafael sighed. “Fine; I have an ice pack in the freezer. Could you please bring it?”
You moved to his kitchen, pulling the freezer open and grabbing the ice pack. You wrapped it in a towel and came back to Rafael. He placed his hand over yours, guiding the ice pack to his shoulder, hissing at the cold.
You sat in silence, only moving again to put the ice pack back in the freezer after 20 minutes had passed. Finally, Rafael said, “you don’t have to stay here, you know. I only said that to assure my mother. I love her, but she was smothering me. I may have gotten shot, but I’m not dead yet.”
“Do you blame her, Raf? You were…it was bad. You were unconscious; you didn’t have to see your own body lying lifeless on the ground, blood everywhere—”
“Hey, hey…I’m okay though, aren’t I? I’m sitting right here, [Y/N],” he murmured.
You took a deep breath, controlling yourself. You realized that besides the witnesses in the courtroom, the IAB officers, and yourself, no one knew what happened in the courtroom—not even Olivia or SVU. He didn’t know that he did die…at least for a couple seconds. And like hell were you going to tell him.
“Yeah, you’re right, you’re fine. But I’m not gonna lie to your mom,” you said. “At least let me make dinner, wait until you go to sleep for the night.” Rafael looked like he was going to argue, but you raised your voice over him, “you couldn’t beat me in a fight before, Raf, and you definitely can’t now.”
He huffed, hunching his shoulders and sinking into the couch. “Fine.” He glared at you for a moment. “You said you brought soup, right?”
********************
You spent the rest of the day with Rafael, making sure to give him his space, but also taking care of him. You didn’t want to just be his mother 2.0, but you also didn’t want him to hurt himself. Mostly, you waited for the drugs to knock him out before you went about cleaning his kitchen, washing dishes, finding cleaning supplies and doing little jobs as he snored softly on his couch. You made sure you were on the opposite couch by the time he woke up, idly watching TV or scrolling your phone as if you were doing nothing. He always looked embarrassed when he awoke, saying that you didn’t need to babysit him, but you scoffed, telling him you had nothing better to do today anyways. Eventually, it was late, and you helped him off the couch and towards his bedroom.
“It’s a shoulder injury; I don’t need help walking,” Rafael huffed, making his way down the hallway.
You grinned following him. “True, but I want to make sure you end up in bed okay…do you—do you need help changing shirts?”
His face turned full red, making the heat rise in your cheeks. He was already in a button-down shirt; it was probably easier to put on than a regular shirt. “I, uh…if—if you don’t mind…I can’t sleep in shirts…I have a, um, sensitive throat, and I feel like I’m choking,” he mumbled, looking away from you.
“O-oh,” you said. “Here, let me help you, then.” You moved to stand in front of him, your fingers shaking slightly as you unbuttoned his shirt. You pulled his right sleeve off before moving to gently tug it off his left. The scar just below his collarbone was angry and puckered, such a stark contrast to the rest of his smooth, tan skin.
Rafael cleared his throat, and you tore your eyes from his chest to look at him, embarrassed that you were caught staring. “Thank you for today, Detective,” Rafael gave you a soft smile, turning and heading towards his bed.
Your eyes roamed over his broad back and you fought the urge to reach out and run your nails over his skin. Instead, you hovered over him, making sure he didn’t hurt himself as he settled down. “Good night, Raf,” you whispered down at him.
“Night, [Y/N],” he muttered back.
You meant to leave his loft, to go home. Really you did. But you couldn’t force yourself to leave Rafael all alone in his loft, not when the memory of him dying in your arms on the courtroom floor was still so fresh in your mind. Though, you also couldn’t stay in the same clothes, with no deodorant or toothpaste. So, you waited until he fell asleep before you reluctantly left his place, rushing home and filling a duffel bag with necessities, then hurrying back. You stuck your head into his room, smiling when you heard his soft snores.
*******************
Waking up on a couch at Rafael’s loft was…disorientating at first. It took a moment for you to remember where you were before it hit you. After checking on the still-sleeping Rafael, you went about making coffee. Then, you looked in the fridge, seeing what you could make for breakfast. It seemed like his mom had premade a bunch of meals, so you’d just wait for him to wake up before heating anything up.
You heard a muffled groan come from the direction of Rafael’s room, and you hurried down the hallway. You knocked twice before entering. “Are you okay?” you asked.
Rafael was standing, his right arm through a shirt sleeve, and he was struggling to put on the other side. Though, when you came into his room, he jumped, cursing in Spanish before asking, “what the hell are you doing here?”
“Helping you,” you replied, moving behind him and pulling his shirt so that he could slip his left arm through the sleeve. You came in front of him, buttoning up his shirt carefully.
“You…you don’t have to—” Rafael started before you cut him off.
“Stop saying I don’t have to, Raf. I know I don’t have to,” you glanced up into his green eyes. “I want to. We…we’re friends, aren’t we? So, let me take care of you.”
You buttoned the last button over his chest, and his hands rested over yours, holding them there against his solid torso. His eyes bored into yours, and you swallowed nervously. “Friends don’t take care of each other, [Y/N]…not like this,” he muttered.
“Then you’ve had shitty friends, Raf,” you replied, your heart in your throat. His eyes seemed to stare right through you, see all your secrets.
“Tell me why…why do you care so much about me?” he asked, his voice barely audible.
You opened your mouth but was saved by the coffee maker beeping. Rafael’s eyes flitted to the door, and you took this time to turn from him, gesturing him to follow. “I made coffee, and I was going to heat up some of the food your mom made for breakfast.”
He had no choice but to follow you to the kitchen as you made him a coffee, insisting on doing the sugar and cream for him. “You didn’t answer me,” Rafael said, taking a sip of his coffee after you handed it to him.
Outside of the intimacy of his bedroom, it was easier to not tell him the truth…at least not the full truth. “Is it weird that I care about you, Raf? I…I care about Olivia, too. And the rest of the squad. I’d help any of you, especially after being shot and dying—”
“’Dying’? I didn’t die—” Rafael stopped talking when he saw the look on your face. “[Y/N]…is there something you need to tell me?”
You fidgeted with your coffee mug before saying in a low voice, “you stopped breathing in the courtroom, Raf. I…I performed CPR on you. I—there was a moment where I thought you might’ve—”
Rafael put a hand behind your neck, tugging you towards him as he kissed you gently, his lips just as soft as the first time you felt them. But this was so much better. You kissed him back, your hands threading in his hair, careful not to pull him too hard as you held him to you.
He gently pulled back from you, panting slightly. “I’m sorry, I’ve just…no one’s ever taken care of me before. And—and not only have you stayed here all night, but you’re the reason I’m even still alive.”
“Raf…” you murmured, cupping his cheek with your hand. Your heart strained for him. “I’m here for you. I’ll take care of you for as long as you need—”
“I can’t ask you to do that. You have a life to live, a job to do.”
You shook your head. “I’m on leave. I…the shooting affected me more than I thought. I’m free to help—”
“You should be helping yourself before you help me—”
“This is helping me, Raf. Trust me. Now let me take care of you, dammit,” you smiled, leaning in to kiss him gently.
“Mmm, how can I say no when you kiss me so sweet?” he replied, grinning.
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A Closer Look at: Momoe Sawaki’s character arc; by a nonbinary (trans) viewer.
CW: Major spoilers for Wonder Egg Priority + mentions and discussion of sexual assault, transphobia, lesbophobia, self-harm; please proceed with caution.
Wonder Egg Priority came as a relatively pleasant surprise for me; I heard about it some time after the first few episodes aired, but I never actively went out of my way to ever try to watch it myself until, that is, a few days ago. I must say, I’m glad to have taken the initiative to experience such anime on my own.
With a stunning animation to accompany the heavy subjects this work touches on, I quickly fell in love with it; all the characters feel very grounded in reality, with their struggles (even someone like Neiru’s, who is a literal genius and CEO of her own company) feeling relatable in one way or another. Episode 7 became my favorite due to this very thing, Rika’s problems were things that not only have I seen in other works before, but that I know exist because of the stories told in the news every so often. It only helped, in my opinion, that they gave a character with her background such a hopeful ending.
That being said, Wonder Egg is not a perfect anime, and though I didn’t expect it to be in the first place, I do think talking about why some of the ways it handles a specific character of the main cast are problematic are worth the time. When I mentioned that “all the characters feel very grounded in reality”, I actually only meant three of them, a.k.a.: Ai, Rika and Neiru. The reason Momoe is not included in this group is what I will be discussing in the next paragraphs.
This anime lets you know, right off the bat, that it will not stray away from heavy subjects throughout the duration of its runtime; the show deals with suicidal idealization (and actual suicide as well as its aftermath; in fact, “female suicide” is at the very core of the show and is what essentially moves it forward), self-harm, sexual assault, same-sex relationships, transphobia, and being a gender noncomforming person in a society that punishes you for not adhering to the roles it has imposed on you since childhood. The last points are the ones I took issue with, however, and though they are mostly the show’s fault, they also took it upon themselves to make Momoe be at the center of all three.
See, when we are first introduced to Momoe, we can guess by context that she is a girl, however, the other characters aren’t aware of this fact yet, and so they seemingly go out of their way to call her a boy, which makes her deeply uncomfortable, and this (ie. her reaction to be treated or perceived as a boy) is a running theme throughout her arc. This, in itself, isn’t really the worst creative direction to take with a character, it’s a story that has been told time and time again, but there is a problem with the way Wonder Egg Priority specifically deals with it: Momoe is cisgender, and so far, there hasn’t been a sign of this changing whatsoever, so she will most likely remain cis until the show ends. Normally, a story about a gender noncomforming cis person wouldn’t be seen as anything out of the extraordinary, as I’ve mentioned before, but it seems that they wanted to… “innovate”, so to say, with her character. And it’s this innovation, in my opinion, that which makes Momoe’s struggles miss the mark for me.
Momoe is perceived, almost ridiculously so, as a boy by whoever even so much as stumbles upon her; her followers on Instagram most likely worship her because they’re under the impression that she’s a bishounen, and yet the show goes out of its way to deal with just how uncomfortable this makes her. This is the issue I take with her and her arc: the show has a keen awareness of AFAB people’s issues, and treats them with the respect they deserve (which is not to say some jokes at their expense aren’t made, but in general this tone is kept throughout the duration of the story), and yet the tone-deaf manner in which they deal with her issues feels… disappointing, to say the least.
Momoe’s struggles, though they are valid on their own, are not a societal issue, no matter how one may look at them; if she were a trans person (either a trans girl, boy, or nonbinary), the strong emphasis on her discomfort at being misgendered would have made so much more sense. The reason why ‘switching around’ the stereotype of a tomboy falls flat on its face is that there is no real pressure from society to present feminine, it’s what they want you to, or more accurately, force you to do if you’re perceived as being assigned female at birth; however, this is not where my issues with Momoe’s arc and character end.
At first, I imagined a variety of (albeit vague, still reasonable) reasons as to why this show couldn’t have just made Momoe be trans, and semi-understanding of this decision; that was, of course, until I watched the actual episode mostly focused on her struggles, and that’s when I got slightly mad. Being honest, I still think it was a good episode, and it definitely made Momoe seem way more sympathetic than any of her past appearances, but it also perfectly highlighted my problem with her, and subsequently, the show itself: using queer people’s actual, realistic, problems in order to push her, a cisgender character, forward.
The thing with Wonder Egg Priority is that I love how, despite all these girls literally risking their lives to save a specific person, they still seem to have conflicting feelings about them (ie. Rika’s mocking of Chiemi, Ai’s frustration towards Koito, etc.) but I also take issue with this when it comes to Momoe specifically; Haruka is very much intended to be seen as gay, yet when push comes to shove, we are supposed to be taking Momoe’s side in this conflict. We, the audience, see these events from her point of view, and are therefore made to feel, in one way or another, uncomfortable with Haruka’s attraction for her. Yes, Momoe has worked hard to bring her back to life, but the fact that she’s cis and heterosexual stands; this isn’t just exclusive to Haruka, however, but every egg she’s had to save in order to get her friend back. All of them express a clear attraction for Momoe, “despite her being a girl”, and it’s just very easy to read these attitudes as wlw-phobic, extremely so.
My biggest issue though lies within the very existence of Kaoru’s character, the trans boy she has to protect in the episode mainly focused on her; while he is an endearing and sympathetic character, and I like that despite him presenting ‘majorly female’, Momoe never misgenders him. The thing is: he’s made out to be almost a “parallel” of her own gender-related issues, and this is just a very tone-deaf statement to make; trans people fighting not to be misgendered, fighting to be called their chosen name (something Momoe, while being cis, can just freely enjoy) - trans people’s pain is very much real, which the show is aware of, but Momoe’s is very much an individual’s problem rather than the way society actually works, which Wonder Egg is seemingly unaware of, for whatever reason.
Before I arrive at my last point on why this comparison doesn’t work, I would like to quickly point out the fact that most, if not all, the eggs the girls have had to save until this point were specifically meant to be girls, in one way or another. Therefore, taking this into account, Kaoru makes me feel… a lot of things, the more time I spend thinking about it; the show acknowledges he’s a boy, though not cis of course, but still very much a boy, yet also places him in this very much ‘female’ space; no matter how I looked at it, I could find explanations both for an opinion in favor of this decision (the way a lot of trans men’s problems are defined by our patriarchal society seeing them as women) as well as some for an opinion against this decision (the fact that it could be read as the show ultimately deciding he’s ‘female-aligned’, etc.) and though I won’t be discussing this decision in-depth, I still possess that it’s an event worth examining from different lenses.
Now, onto the actual element that got me heated about Kaoru serving as a parallel to Momoe’s struggles: Kaoru was not only sexually assaulted by a man who’s always thought of him as a ‘pretty, delicate girl’, his death directly relates to the fact that he was abused and then impregnated by this man for not living up to his gross ideal of what a man and a woman are; contrast this to Momoe, who pretty much gets the treatment Kaoru would love to have: she’s pretty much right off the bat seen as a guy, she’s fawned over by women because of this fact as well, they literally call her ‘Momotaro’, etc. Taking all of this into account, it’s simply impossible for me to be okay with a comparison that ultimately decides a cisgender person’s discomfort is, in any sort of way, on equal grounds as a (might I remind you, dead) trans person’s basic human rights.
All in all, though her episode made me take a bigger liking to her character, it also served to almost perfectly highlight the very problem of her existence, as well as the “struggles” she’s intended to represent; I don’t hate Momoe in any sort of way, and though I know there must be someone somewhere who relates to her, I also think that they could’ve done something way more meaningful with her had they just made some changes that made her more realistic (as in, make her at least be LGBT rather than just cis and heterosexual); I will be patiently waiting for the finale, and who knows? Maybe something does change about her in the end, that would be even more of a pleasant surprise.
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the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 2/?
- sephiroth/reader
- sfw
“You look like shit.” said one of your fellow 2nds - Devon - through a mouthful of food.
“Thanks.” you replied, sitting next to him like a bag of rocks.
By the time you dragged yourself out of the training room (not even bothering to hit the communal showers and heading straight for the cafeteria in an exhausted stupor), there was only pallid, unspecified meat and soggy leaves that might’ve been a salad once left in the reservoir. It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t good either, uncomfortably sitting somewhere in the so-so region. Looking at the vaguely edible shapes in their cold, rectangular boxes, you figured they were more of an essence of whatever they labeled it as. A single piece of white bread had more flavor. You stacked your tray with what you could, and just before you left to grab a seat, you doubled back to grab a water bottle.
After finally having the chance to settle, the muscles in your arms and legs ached. Like someone had taken a hammer to your joints. It was nothing like the feeling of being a spunky 3rd just coming back from rigorous training - you had ached then, but it felt good. It felt like progress. Now you were just dead tired. You suspected with great indignation that the feeling wouldn’t subside in a good while.
You were about to shove a fork full of the essence of meat in your mouth when you couldn’t help but look up at the friend sitting across from you. He was staring at you with wide, bluer-than-the-sky eyes. His puppy stare (that you made sure never to call it that to his face).
“Vic.” you said, feinting a stern tone. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”
You were dying to talk about it.
“You’re dying to talk about it.” said Victor and Devon in unison.
You groaned, hands flying to your face and tugging at your eyelids as you dragged them down. You had laid there in the training room for a good five minutes after Sephiroth left, half-expecting him to come back and further damage your ego. But he didn’t. And thankfully, no one else happened upon your battered form, for better or worse. Admittedly, you were feeling a lot less achy now that you were moving around, but where your back had collided with the floor now spouted an angry bruise in varying shades of yellow and purple.
“You sparred with Sephiroth?”
Victor - a 3rd and a few years your younger - always had at least one star in each of his eyes, but as you finished your lackluster retelling of the bout, he was twinkling like the night sky. “That’s so cool.”
“Oh yeah, real cool.” you picked at a clump of soggy leaves. “Ice cold.”
“That bad huh?” Devon said, with all the concern of wet concrete.
Slouching back down from where he was practically leaning across the entire table, Victor pouted.
“C’mon, it couldn’t have been that bad! At least you’re not stuck doing drills every day. Do you know how many of these guys would beg to be where you are?”
“At least you have someone to tell you what to do. Sephiroth just..expects me to know. It’s so - he’s so-” you punctuated with a grumble in your throat and a stab at the chalky meat on your tray, but it was so tender that it flaked away.
“He trusts you - that’s a good thing!”
You paused, taking a begrudging swig of water. “I guess..you have a point.”
You were still feeling slightly bitter, but a childish smirk played at the corners of your mouth. “Okay maybe it wasn’t completely terrible.”
They both perked up, looking at you curiously.
“I might’ve cut his hair.”
Both of their eyes shot open. “You what?”
---
It was dark by the time you and your friends dispersed, drowsily heading back to your respective quarters. But as tired as you were, you still felt like gum stuck on the bottom of someone’s shoe, so with a heavy sigh you hauled yourself to the showers.
They were empty, and completely quiet save for the tap-tap-tap of a few leaky showerheads. You tried to control your shivering as you turned the squeaky knob, a paralyzing chill washing down your body as cold water hit your skin like thousands of tiny icicles. The temperature evened out after a minute or two, though it was so late in the day that the highest it was able to reach was a tepid lukewarm.
You made quick work of your hair, combing out the last of the suds with your fingers. As you washed the rest of your body, your thoughts wandered back to the bout. It had only been a few hours since the training session, and you were already feeling a little better, if a little sore. But now the bruise was the least of your worries.
Sephiroth. Trusting you. You.
You wanted to laugh. You didn’t know why the concept was so unfathomable. To you, it just seemed like he was above that sort of thing. You knew of the other 1sts - it was almost impossible to avoid them, even if you wanted to - and how they were as thick as thieves. You knew your mentor was closer to them than anyone else, recalling brief memories of seeing them roaming the halls together, laughing and being..normal. You couldn’t imagine yourself in that sphere. You’d have better luck trying to catch a cloud.
Shutting off the water, you halfheartedly dried yourself off, your hair still slightly damp on your pillow as you faded into a dreamless sleep.
---
Waking up that next morning wasn’t as much of a chore as you thought it was. You were still sore as hell, but at least you could get up without complaining. Much.
You got dressed, your back popping as you threaded your arms through your sleeveless shirt’s armholes. Then, you rolled your shoulders, taking your wrist in one hand and pulling it across your chest, stretching and popping the joints in that socket. And then the other. Sliding your suspenders over your shoulders, you spied your reflection in the mirror in your bathroom. You could fit yourself inside it, with at least a foot to spare. But that foot was reserved for the door to swing open. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’ve stubbed your toe while opening the thing with both hands twice over. Brushing your teeth, you poked mindlessly at the dark bags under your eyes. You hadn’t noticed when they had gotten there, nor for how long. You spit into the sink.
Fixing your hair - which had somehow knotted itself in the back, making you look like you had gotten shocked by lightning in your sleep - with your hands, you were satisfied enough to leave your room. It was still early enough in the morning that the cafeteria was closed for at least another half-hour. Feeling restless, a prickling in your bones that couldn’t be quelled by sitting alone in your room - or anywhere else for that matter - you decided to go for a run.
The base’s outside training fields (that weren’t fields at all, but rather a series of cleared pads that weren’t completely overrun with crates of ammunition and other surplus supplies that had yet to be shipped to a warehouse somewhere) were a fair walk away, but you didn’t mind.
As you reached the end of the hallway, the elevator leading to the ground floor already in sight, the door slid open, revealing a figure that you didn’t quite register at first. You awkwardly stopped, your boots slightly skidding against the linoleum as if urging you forward. Which you did anyway, like a machine that had sputtered slightly before kicking itself back into gear. Sephiroth hadn’t seen your buffer, but the sound of it drew his eyes to you almost immediately. He stepped out, jutting one shoulder out first before the rest of his body followed. Trying not to meet his eyes, you waited for him to exit the elevator.
“Morning, sir.” you muttered, leftover grogginess on your tongue.
He nodded, a cordial expression flashing across his face.
As you passed him, one foot about to land in the elevator, you paused. There was a hand on your shoulder. You took a step back, straightening your posture without thinking.
His hand was gloved, always gloved, the leather not entirely warm - like he had just put them on. He wasn’t grabbing you in place, but Sephiroth had a gravity to him that made you want to stay there. It kind of scared you, but you were too busy shaking off the last vestiges of sleep that liked to hang around in the morning to care. If anything, you were just confused.
“Um.” you didn’t mean for the sound to come out, but too much silence made you nervous. You stayed quiet, too muddled to think of anything to say.
Sephiroth himself wasn’t silent for too long, but it was long enough to put a little seed of apprehension in you. You shifted your weight on your feet.
“Was this from yesterday?” he said in a notably smaller tone than usual.
It took you a full second to notice that he was looking at your shoulder, and another second to realize what he was talking about. “Oh - oh, that?”
You twisted your neck as far as it could go, bending back slightly even though the motion was more irritating than you’d like to admit. You gave the bruise a passing glance.
“I mean..yeah.” you said. “But I’ve had worse, can hardly feel it anymore actually.” you quickly added after seeing his brows crease lower on his face.
“Hey, man, seriously I’m over it. It’s just a bruise, you didn’t like, cut my arm off.” Though for a moment, you thought he would have done exactly that.
“I tend to get carried away with that sort of thing..it was unprofessional of me,” He almost seemed to shrink into himself, but he looked more like one of the droopy willows you saw once while patrolling a small village outside Midgar. He withdrew his hand like he had just stung you. “I apologize for causing you harm.”
“You..don’t have to, Seph, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“But-”
“Honest. It was just a fall, that’s how sparring matches are.” you waved him off. His concern was sweet at first, albeit strange and just a little uncomfortable. But now you felt like you were consoling a kicked puppy. “Besides, it was fun.”
“..Fun?”
“Well, yeah. It’s not every day you get to fight, er, you.”
“I see.” he said, noticeably relaxing a bit. “So you’re sure you’re alright?”
“Positive.”
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly in..satisfaction? Relief? Something like that. He looked like he was about to leave, but before he could fully turn his back to you he stopped, turning his head.
“Oh, if you can, meet me in the briefing room in about an hour. There’s something I’d like to speak to you about.”
You could feel your stomach actively turning into a pit. “Aren’t we talking right now?” you said, feeling more than a little thick in the head and wanting very badly to slap yourself when you saw a crease form between his brows.
“It’s important. I requested a meeting with Lazard.”
The pit in your stomach was now a sinkhole.
“Oh,” you said. “Okay, uh...cool.”
Sephiroth snorted with some degree of amusement. “Don’t be late.”
“Sure!” you said maybe a little too enthusiastically. You never were good at masking your anxiety. “Sure.” you quickly repeated in a markedly more composed tone, doing an even worse job at sounding calm.
He was already walking away - thank god. You didn’t want to see his face. As the elevator doors severed you from him, you found yourself tapping your foot against the panels of the floor, arms crossed so tight they felt stiff and weird dangling at your sides as you walked outside to the training field.
You ran laps (you weren’t counting, but it felt infinite), your brain shutting itself off without you meaning to. There was too much to think about, but it was so early in the morning you told yourself, that you deserved not thinking about any of it. Just for a couple minutes, a few more laps. The apology, the hand on your shoulder, the meeting, the apology - nope. Not thinking about it.
---
By the time you reached the cafeteria, you found that you weren’t that hungry at all.
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When I Have You - Chapter 41
Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3.
If you want to talk about books, join my Discord server.
----
Chapter 41
Ron clutched the final envelope in his hand. He didn’t want to open it. What if there was a reason that one had arrived last? What if they’d given him false hope with all of the other parts, and then this was the big letdown?
He was reminded of the time the OWL results had arrived and how sick he’d felt. He’d been convinced he’d failed everything back then, because during every exam, it was as if his mind had gone blank of information, almost as if he was three years old again and didn’t know how to perform a single spell.
But that worked out, he reminded himself. He’d gotten seven OWLs in the end, which was extremely impressive.
And so far, he’d passed every single aptitude test in the three years of his Auror training, including the final ones. It was the theory component that worried him.
He wasn’t good at theory. He couldn’t look at a book and absorb the information. That was Hermione’s area of expertise, and he admired her for it. But… at least he’d remembered some of the stuff this time round.
He’d taken the final tests two weeks prior, and those two weeks of waiting had certainly been the worst of Ron’s life. He’d checked multiple times a day for any Ministry owls making their way through the windows to the point that Hermione had forbidden him from getting the mail. Now it was her job to check it, and if anything arrived, she’d let him know.
It wasn’t helped by the fact that the two week wait had him at home by himself while Hermione worked. There was no more training left, and he couldn’t become a fully licensed Auror until his results were in.
Thankfully, Harry was in the same boat, so Ron had spent most of his time at Grimmauld Place helping Harry prepare to sell the house.
It had been all over the Prophet the moment Harry put it on the market, receiving a lot of interest from people who, Ron was sure, were more interested in coming to see where the Harry Potter lived than buying the actual house.
Who would want to buy a house owned by a Dark wizarding family for most of its existence? Especially one that was unplottable.
Still, Harry was adamant that he couldn’t live there anymore, and he wanted to be done with the whole thing.
“Maybe you should just hold onto it,” Ron had said as they packed up a room used as a storage space for the Blacks and Harry. “Keep it for the future.”
“Can’t anymore, even if I wanted to,” Harry had replied. “I’ve given half the wizarding population the address now. I’m moving.”
Two weeks had passed since that conversation. The two weeks Ron needed to get through in order for the final exam results to arrive. Hermione had left for work at seven that morning, and Ron had Floo’d over almost instantly to see Harry. Together they waited for midday, when the results were due to arrive.
Harry was already tearing into his, scanning the letter. Ron stared at his name on the front. He wished Hermione was here. She would be able to comfort him, probably assure him that he needed to stop being an idiot and that he would do just fine. But she was at work, blissfully unaware of his turmoil.
“Er, I passed!” Harry said, looking at Ron. “How’d you —” He noticed Ron’s unopened letter and rolled his eyes. “Oh, go on. You passed, I know you did.”
Ron swallowed. Harry just didn’t get it. He was probably going to pass even if he’d gotten every question wrong, because he was Harry, and they wanted him in the Aurors. But Ron wasn’t Harry. Neville wasn’t Harry. The rest would have to work for their results.
“You did just fine,” Harry said, almost irritated. “Want me to open it for you?”
“No,” Ron said. “I’ll… do it.” He broke the Ministry seal on the envelope and took out the letter.
This wasn’t like getting his OWLs at all. This was ten times worse. He’d dedicated three years to training, he had no alternative plan if this didn’t work out. What was he supposed to do if he didn’t pass the test?
He slowly unfolded the letter that would seal his fate.
“Oh,” he said.
“What?” Harry asked.
Ron looked up, his whole face burning red.
Harry’s smile faltered a little. “You, er, did —”
“Ninety-five percent,” Ron said.
“What?” Harry asked. “That’s… really good!” He folded up his own letter.
“What did you get?” Ron asked.
“Ninety-four,” Harry said.
“I beat you?” Ron asked, surprised. He’d never beaten Harry at a test before. They’d received identical results often, but Ron had never beaten Harry. And he’d not expected it in Auror training either.
“Was never good at multiple choice questions,” Harry said, shrugging and then smiling. “I guess drinks are in order, then?”
“Yeah, alright,” Ron said, air being let out of his lungs like a balloon.
“Ginny’s idea. She said once we got the remaining results, she’ll organise a celebration.” He paused, his smile turning into a grin suddenly. “Hey! This means we’re fully trained Aurors now. We’re Aurors.”
“It’s all I wanted to do!” Ron said, a grin spreading on his own face as the realisation hit him. He was an Auror. Finally. He’d never really thought it was something he could achieve. It usually required higher marks, Outstanding NEWT results and better wand ability than Ron ever could achieve under normal circumstances.
It had just been a dream, but that dream had just become a reality for him.
He sat down in the armchair, clutching the letter still.
He was an Auror.
“Ginny’ll be home tonight,” Harry said. “This afternoon, actually. Once Hermione finishes work, I think we should go out. Me, Ginny, you and Hermione. Neville, too. We should ask Neville. I’ll send him an owl now to see.”
Ron nodded, still not sure he believed it.
He was an Auror.
Harry vanished into another room to find a quill and some parchment and returned, sitting in an armchair beside Ron.
As he was scribbling the note for Neville, he said, head still down, “Hey, I never actually asked officially.”
“Asked what?” Ron asked, vaguely.
“You’ll be my best man at my wedding, won’t you? We’ve set a date. August twenty-fourth this year.”
Ron came to then. He looked at Harry. “Y-yeah, of course,” he said. “Of course I will. And you’ll, of course, be mine?”
“Would be an honour,” Harry said, folding the note up. “The biggest honour to be at the wedding of my two best friends. You guys set a date yet?”
“No,” Ron said. “We’ve not really discussed it. With all the tests, and then waiting for results… hasn’t been the best time to make any clear-cut decisions about something so important. For me, anyway.” In the six weeks they’d been engaged, he knew Hermione had been going through books, reading up on traditions, considering some places, some dates, looking at wedding dresses, and doing a lot of other things to do with the wedding.
But Ron had been too stressed to think clearly about something that seemed a while away, and then after he’d taken his tests, too nervous about the results to plan.
He wanted to be able to make clear decisions about what would be the most important and special day of his life, and while he awaited the results of his future, he couldn’t.
Hermione had understood and said she’d keep some things aside so they could talk about it when he was ready.
“Well, after today you’ll have more time.”
“Yeah,” Ron said, and some of his shock about becoming an Auror dissipated. Now he could anticipate something much more exciting than test results.
…
“I knew you’d both do it!” Hermione said, giving Harry a hug. She then turned to Ron and kissed him. “I’m so happy and proud of both of you.”
“And those test results are amazing!” Ginny added. “One hundred percent on all your final aptitude tests, and almost one hundred percent on the theory. The pair of you are going to make formidable Aurors. Dark witches and wizards have no chance. I think Tonks told me once that she scored ninety on her theory.”
“Don’t give us a reputation before we’ve started, Gin,” Harry said.
Ginny smiled. “You deserve it.”
“We still need our formal offers into the Auror department,” Ron said. “Can’t start a job when we don’t have one.”
“As if Kingsley wouldn’t offer you actual jobs,” Hermione said. “Apart from being very depleted, he needs people like you.”
Ron thought she was right. Now that they’d passed, Kingsley would be sure to offer them actual jobs. And with that came a decent pay rise, which meant a nicer wedding than before.
“Hey, guys.”
Everyone turned. They were standing out in front of the Three Broomsticks, waiting for Neville to arrive, who’d graciously accepted Harry’s invitation to celebrate with them.
“Hey, Neville,” they all said together.
“How’d you go, mate?” Ron asked.
Neville nodded. “I passed. I did well. Eighty-nine percent on the theory, one hundred percent on two of the aptitude tests, and ninety-seven on the rest.”
“That’s great, Neville,” Hermione said, and she stepped forward to hug him. Ginny did the same. Harry and Ron clapped him on the back.
“We should go in then now that we’re all here,” Ginny said, her hand resting on the entrance to the pub.
“I’m still waiting on… someone,” Neville said suddenly, and under the pale moonlight, Ron saw his cheeks tinge pink.
“Who?” Ron asked.
“... someone,” Neville muttered.
“As in… a date?” Ron pressed. Hermione elbowed him as a warning to not pry.
Neville nodded, his blush deepening.
“Who?” Ron said again. “Is this new?”
“Ron!” Hermione scolded. “Stop being so nosy.”
“A few months,” Neville said quietly.
“Thanks for letting us — your friends — know,” Ron said, but he smiled. “They on their way?”
Neville nodded again. “She’ll be here in a moment.”
Ginny took up a conversation with Hermione about Ginny’s Quidditch team and how she was going, while Ron, Harry and Neville stood in silence.
After a moment, Ron said, “Seriously, who is she? You’ve been seeing someone, Nev?”
“Someone from school,” Neville said. But before he could elaborate, a woman who looked vaguely familiar to Ron approached them, albeit not without a little hesitation.
It took Ron a moment, but he placed her as Hannah Abbott. Ron didn’t think he’d ever spoken to her in his whole time at Hogwarts, though it wasn’t because he had any strong opinions about her. They just… never interacted. Not even during their time in Dumbledore’s Army together.
“Hi, Hannah!” Hermione said before Neville could even introduce them. Of course Hermione would be on more friendly terms with her. She seemed to have spoken to everyone during their time at Hogwarts. “How are you?”
“I’m great, thanks!” Hannah said. “How are you…” She looked around at everyone standing there. “How are you all? Thanks for inviting me.”
“That’s quite alright,” Ginny said before anyone could share an uncomfortable look that they actually hadn’t invited her. Until a moment ago, they hadn’t even known she was coming. But, to be fair, if they had known Neville was seeing her, she would have been invited.
“Let’s go in, shall we?” Ginny then said. “I had a table reserved as there’s a few of us and it’s become a popular night time spot for more than just the creeps of Hogsmeade. Sorry, Hannah, I organised this a while back and Neville only told us today you were coming. I’m sure an extra chair won’t be a bother.”
“Thank you,” Hannah said.
“Just over there,” Rosmerta said when she spotted them. She pointed to a table at the back in a corner that was out of the way of everyone else.
“Do you have a spare chair, Rosmerta?” Ginny asked.
“If you can find one,” Rosmerta said, waving a hand in the general direction of other tables, clearly distracted by her customers.
“You seem awfully friendly with her,” Ron said as he picked up a vacant chair and carried it over to their table.
“The Harpies like to come here after a game sometimes,” Ginny said. “Would anyone like a Butterbeer? Firewhisky? I’ll get them.”
While Ginny disappeared to get the drinks, everyone else arranged themselves around the table. It was a little squishy, but they all somehow fit. Ron found himself squished into the corner of the booth with Hermione (which he didn’t mind one bit).
“It’s nice of you guys to organise something,” Neville said. “And to invite me.”
“You’ve been through the three years with us, Nev,” Ron said. “You’re always invited.”
Neville flushed with pleasure, and Ron felt a wave of affection for him.
“How are you going, Hannah?” Hermione said, leaning forward and resting her arms on the table. Ron shifted to give them a little more room and placed his arm around her waist. “I heard that you’re at St Mungo’s?”
How she knew that, Ron had no idea, but that was one of the many things he loved about Hermione. She knew everything.
“Yes, there’s a few from our year who’re doing Healing too,” Hannah said. “Seamus Finnigan… you probably know that, he said he’s still in contact with all of you. And Padma Patil.”
“Yes, I heard she was, too,” Hermione said.
“How is it?” Harry asked. “Healing, I mean?”
“Oh, I love it,” Hannah said. “It’s so rewarding. Tiring, but still rewarding. I’m working in the long-term resident ward. Do you remember Professor Lockhart? He’s still there!”
No one said anything to that. Ron assumed the others were of the same mind as he was — they had seen him there a few years ago, still as mad as ever. Thankfully, Ginny chose that moment to return with the drinks, so no one had to. She had two in her hands, and was levitating the others with her wand. She slid into the booth next to Harry.
“Have you and Neville been in contact all this time?” Ginny asked, looking at Hannah.
“Oh, no,” Hannah said, and she laughed slightly. “Through Seamus, really. We went out one evening after a rough day — me, Seamus and Padma — and he invited Neville and Dean along too. We got talking, reminiscing on a lot of Herbology lessons, and we kind of just clicked.”
Neville flushed, but Ron saw a smile hidden within his red face.
“That’s so good,” Ginny said, grinning at Neville. “What a nice story.”
“Yeah,” Hannah said, also smiling. She then looked at the others with more focus. “And Neville told me about you all getting married.” Her eyes flicked to Harry and Ginny first. “Congratulations.” She then looked to Ron and Hermione. “And to you two as well. Such lovely news. Have you set any dates?”
“We have,” Ginny said. “When we send an invitation out, we’ll be sure to send yours with Neville’s. Guests are welcome, of course, we’re just putting secrecy charms on the invitations to stop any unwelcome guests showing up.”
By unwelcome guests, Ron knew she meant the media. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley would be a wedding that gossip magazines and the Prophet would love to get a story on. High profile weddings such as theirs were not a common thing in the wizarding world.
“That’s probably a good idea,” Neville said, sounding impressed.
“Yeah,” Ginny said. “It sounds mean, but… we just want family and friends there, not snooping journalists trying to get in. So all stuff will be revealed on the invitation and once people read it, they’ll not be able to speak any of it out loud.”
“That’s a bit insulting to your brother, don’t you think?” Ron asked her. “You don’t trust even me?”
“Knowing you and your big mouth, you’ll let it slip by accident somewhere,” Ginny said, and Harry and Neville chuckled.
Ron scowled at both of them and sunk back into the booth.
“Well, we aren’t telling you ours either,” he said, knowing he was pouting.
“Because you don’t have one,” Ginny said.
Ron shot her a glaring look, to which she only rolled her eyes. “By the time you bother to even choose a date, people will have forgotten you’re even engaged. You are the definition of taking things slow.”
Everyone bar Hannah nodded in agreement, including Hermione. Ron looked at her.
“It doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing,” she said kindly.
Ron folded his arms across his chest, leaning on the table again. He said nothing more on the subject.
The evening ended up being a pleasant one, the conversation going on until near midnight. Hannah, who Ron had always considered rather quiet, talked a lot and asked lots of questions about everything.
“Are you really selling your godfather’s house, Harry?”
“Why did you choose to live in Nottingham? That’s where I grew up. I live in London now.”
“How do you think the Harpies will fare against the Magpies next week, Ginny? My brother supports the Magpies.”
She was nice, though, and if Neville wasn’t Neville, who acted shy in many social situations, Ron would have thought he was quite pleased with himself.
“When do you think we’ll be able to start our actual jobs as Aurors?” Ron asked as the clock now ticked past midnight. There were still a few people left in the pub. Though, the later it got, the shadier the people became.
“I’d think very soon,” Hermione said. “They need more Aurors, and now that all the first lot of trainees since the war have finished, I’m sure Kingsley will want you all in as soon as possible. You probably all know what you’re doing more than half the Aurors already there anyway.”
“Flattering, Hermione,” Harry said with a tired smile.
“The truth,” she said firmly.
Hannah stifled a yawn, and truthfully, Ron didn’t blame her. He’d enjoyed the night, but he was starting to think about his bed more than the people he was spending time with.
Ginny and Hannah were still chatting when he fell into a peaceful stupor that had his mind wandering to what was to come for him. Starting a real job, getting married…
He was startled when he felt a hand on his leg. He turned to see Hermione smiling at him. “Do you want to go?”
“Do you?” he asked. “If you want to stay, we can stay. I’ll just… nap in the booth.”
“I haven’t even been home,” Hermione said. “Only to change from work clothes. I think we’re all going anyway.”
Ron looked around to see everyone else grabbing coats, getting to their feet as the conversation died down. Ron took Hermione’s hand as they all exited the pub.
“I don’t know how many times I went there in school,” Hannah said. “But now that we’re out, we mostly go to the Leaky Cauldron. My great uncle is the owner there.”
“Tom’s your uncle?” Hermione asked.
“Great uncle,” Hannah said with a nod.
“I never knew,” Hermione replied.
“Yeah, it doesn’t always come up in conversation.”
They were standing outside now. The temperature had significantly dropped while they’d been inside. Now that he was on his feet, Ron could feel the four Butterbeers and two Firewhiskys he’d drank going through him. No wonder he’d been falling asleep inside.
“Thanks for inviting me again,” Hannah said brightly. “I had fun.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Ginny said. She then looked between Harry, Ron and Hermione. “Or see you again.”
Neville and Hannah left, heading up the main street of Hogsmeade hand-in-hand.
“How nice.” Hermione sighed. “I’m happy for them.”
“Neville with a girlfriend is… strange,” Ron mused, watching their disappearing figures step into the night. He gripped Hermione’s hand tighter, then dug into his pocket to retrieve his wand.
Hermione’s hand covered it.
“Maybe I’ll Disapparate?” she suggested. “I don’t want any unnecessary Splinchings.”
Ron hesitated for a moment, trying to count how many drinks he’d seen her have but couldn’t recall. His brain was a little foggy on the details.
He didn’t even feel drunk, just… heavy-headed.
“Yeah, alright,” he said and stowed his wand back into his pocket.
“You’ll be at the Burrow tomorrow night?” Ginny asked.
“I guess?” Hermione said, sounding confused. “Is there a special reason?”
“Nope, Mum just asked me to ask you. I think she’s a bit upset over the fact that we all only seem to come over for ‘special occasions’ these days. You know, with us having jobs, our own homes, and all that. Kids, for some of us.”
“We’ll be there then,” Hermione said.
“Yeah, count us in,” Ron added, only realising since Ginny had said it that his presence at the Burrow really had dropped off in the last three months or so. They still visited, of course, but he’d spent more time at Grimmauld Place than he did there.
The flat had been comfortable, but it had never been ‘home.’ To a point, the Burrow had still felt like home to him while he and Hermione navigated apartment living. But the Nottingham house had changed his perspective. That was home now, and he felt the same warmth he’d always felt at the Burrow every time he set foot in his house.
There was just so much potential there, so many things that felt right about living there, and so many things he could envision for the future.
“Great, see you tomorrow night then.” Ginny beamed at both of them, and then she and Harry Disapparated from right in front of them.
Ron flinched at the sound, his hearing suddenly oversensitive.
“Come on,” Hermione said, squeezing his hand tightly and taking out her wand with her free one. “Let’s go to bed. I’m so tired.”
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