#he makes up for it with an insane amount of swagger | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keepsdeathhiscourt · 7 months ago

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Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature (18+ Only)

Story Summary: It's been ten years since Lucie LeMarche last set foot in New Orleans. But when she's forced to return to bury the woman who raised her, she finds herself pulled into the midst of rising supernatural tensions in the city. Entangled in a web of intrigue and seeking answers, Lucie must learn to navigate a powder keg of warring factions, family secrets, and old wounds if she hopes to survive.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Language, Death, Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Family Drama, Gore, Depictions of Violence, Death

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

Chapter 18: Ghosts

The streetlights pass in a blur of yellow and orange. All the while, the manila folder screams at her from the passenger seat. Cami resists the urge to reach across and inspect the contents. Maybe this time, she’ll find something she missed, some key element telling her she was wrong and her tired brain was playing a trick on her all the times before. But she knows to her core that there is no mistake, and if she were to run her hands over the soft black-and-white photo for the thousandth time, she would find the same thing:

The 1919 Picayune clipping of Marcel smiling in front of the New Orleans Opera House with none other than Klaus Mikaelson.

It should be impossible, but there’s no mistaking the high cheekbones, the smirking mouth, and even dressed in spats and a tailored jacket. His cocky swagger is the same.

The first time she saw it was rough. Her stomach bounced against her ribcage and her ears rang. She hadn’t wanted to believe it. Yet it made a strange sort of sense --absolutely bat shit insane-- but sense all the same. And for the first time in months, she felt relief buried beneath the confusion and fear. The missing chunks of time, her and Sean’s code on sheets of notebook paper that she never remembered drawing- she isn’t sure how, but it has to connect back to this.

Cami resists the urge to bounce her leg as she waits for the light to turn, fingers drumming against the wheel. Tired of obsessing over this alone, she’d left her Kenner apartment, throwing a coat on over her pajamas, and was on her way into the city before she could think things through. Now, adrenaline fading and making space for reason, she doubts.

What do you say in this kind of situation?

Hey, Lucie. I know it’s 3 am, but remember that British guy from the bar? Well, I’m pretty sure he’s over 100 years old.

She shakes her head, tapping the accelerator when the light turns green. There isn’t time for second thoughts. She isn’t about to spend the rest of the night on her couch in a paranoid stupor. Maybe Lucie will call her a basket-case then they can laugh it off and watch something mindless on TV.

Her breathing is mostly back to normal by the time she pulls up to the curb behind a red sports car she doesn’t recognize. She tucks the folder under her arm and heads for the porch. The air is humid. It makes her shirt cling to her stomach and the dew-damp grass tickles her ankles.

The rough planks of the porch groan when she reaches the top of the stairs. She can hear voices from inside, muffled by the door, and she hesitates. It never occurred to her that Lucie might not be alone. She was too much of an introvert for a party. A silhouette passes in front of the living room window, a blurry shape behind the curtains. It could be a man, but she’d never mentioned she was seeing anyone…

Maybe she should come back in the morning. Uncle Kieran might still be at the church--

A woman shouts, the sound almost drowned out by breaking glass and a thud hard enough to shake the windows.

Every true crime documentary she’s ever seen tells her she should call the police and let them handle it. Instead, she turns the knob and, finding the door unlocked, she throws her weight into it. The hinges groan as it opens wide. There’s no knife-wielding maniac on the other end, no robber in a ski mask, and no amount of crime drama could prepare her for what’s waiting beyond the threshold.

The first thing she sees is Lucie’s face, mouth slack, and eyes round with shock. She follows the curve of her tear-streaked cheeks, the bloody mess of her neck. With a little cry, Cami steps forward, halting when she catches movement behind her.

Broken glass and tattered wallpaper litter the hallway, like someone let a wild bear loose. Instead, she finds Klaus’ sister running faster than any living thing has any business moving. All she can do is stand there stunned as she grabs a man by the collar and slams him into a wall with enough force to break the drywall.

When shifts, Cami gets her first glimpse of Elijah. His eyes are frantic, hair disheveled, but her eyes lock on the bloody mess of his shirt, the red around his mouth, and the gleaming, monstrous fangs within. Something primal in the back of her head screams at her to run, but her knees are shaking and her feet won’t budge.

She staggers sideways, catching the door frame for balance, and chokes out, “What the hell is going on here?”

Three sets of eyes find her. Rebekah throws Elijah to the ground like he’s only a sack of flour, holding him in place with a foot to the chest. Her mussed hair is a ragged halo in the hallway's light.

She rolls her eyes, tossing her head. “Oh, for the love of--“

Elijah seizes her momentary distraction, hand wrapping around her ankle. Before he can pull her over, she plucks up a broken table leg and pierces through his chest in one fluid motion. He goes limp, dead on the floor. This time Cami does scream.

“Keep an eye on this one,” she tells Lucie, unbothered by her brother’s fresh corpse. “I’ll take care of this.”

Cami winces as Rebekah moves towards her, only to be stopped when Lucie grasps her wrist with a frantic, “No! Don’t.” It earns her a withering look. “She should know the truth.”

The house falls quiet as the two women exchange a look that Cami can’t even decipher. Then, Rebekah steps back with a gesture that can only mean ‘Fine, but this is on you,’ before dragging Elijah by the ankle into a back room.

Lucie turns to her and for a long while, neither of them says anything. Cami can’t seem to slow her racing thoughts enough to grasp a coherent thought, and Lucie seems focused on gnawing a hole through her bottom lip.

There’s a loud thump from somewhere toward the back of the house. It breaks the spell.

“Let’s talk in the living room,” Lucie says, tiptoeing around shards of glass to press the front door closed. Her hand trembles when she grasps one of Cami’s, who allows herself to be guided through an archway and onto a rich, patterned couch.

She pulls a pillow to her chest. Something about the warmth or the plush fabric smashes open the dam and she laughs, a breathy, choked noise from deep in her chest. Is this it? Is she about to snap?

The cushions dip as Lucie sits down beside her. She hadn’t even noticed her slip out of the room, but now she has a damp towel pressed to combat the gore on her neck. It does nothing to soothe Cami’s frayed nerves.

Her eyes fix on a landscape painting on the far wall, the oil strokes warping as her vision clouds over. She doesn’t realize she’s hyperventilating until Lucie says, “Take slow breaths like this.”

She demonstrates, sucking a lungful of air through her nose and then releasing it out of her mouth. Cami copies the motion, sloppy at first, and then more steady with each repetition until she feels less like passing out.

“What the fuck just happened? Why are you bleeding? Why is Elijah Mikaelson dead on your floor?—“The words, once free, stop coming, picking up velocity.

“Cami!” Lucie says, voice sharp, as she squeezes her hand. “Breathe.”

So she does.

“I’m going to tell you everything, alright? But I can’t do that if you faint on me.”

She shifts her hands into her lap, remembering the folder under her arm for the first time since she walked through the door. Setting it on the coffee table, she turns to Lucie with an exaggerated breath.

“First things first, Elijah is going to be fine—”

“—But I just watched Rebekah stab him in the chest—”

“—Because he’s a vampire.”

Cami loses her train of thought, jaw slack. Her mouth snaps shut, and she shakes her head. “Vampires? Whatever joke this is, it’s not funny.” But even as she says it, something falls into place, like the last stitch pulling the whole tapestry together. Her eyes dart towards the folder.

“Trust me, I wish I was joking,” Lucie says, playing with her fingers. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, body angled to face her. “There’s a lot you don’t know about New Orleans, Cami.”

----

She watches the servants set the dining table with fine silver and priceless china and all the while, Hayley resists an urge to be sick which has nothing to do with morning sickness. It’s been less than a week since Tyler Lockwood snatched her off the front porch and dragged her out into the bayou in some half-cooked scheme to get back at Klaus --as if he’d ever let any hybrids sired by someone other than himself live. After Klaus had run him off, staying at the manor was off the table.

She doesn’t dislike the Abattoir itself, even though it smells damp and you could hear a pin drop in the courtyard. It’s blessedly cooler here, the stucco walls built to keep out the heat, and she has to admit that the balconies are perfect for watching the sunset over the French Quarter. No, it’s not the compound, but its revolving door of inhabitants that set her teeth on edge.

She reaches for a glass of water, the other hand resting against her expanding belly. All the while, she keeps a sidelong look at the small army of vampires gathered around the table. Two chairs to her right is Marcel and beside him is his newest right-hand man, the one they call Diego. Her eyes narrow when he catches her staring, dark eyes full of calculation. She isn’t sure how much Klaus has told them about her and their miracle baby, but, then again, she doubts it matters.

Diego breaks the stand-off first when Klaus taps his fork against his wineglass. It’s not until she sees the back of his curly head that she turns to him as well. At the other end of the table, Klaus is on his feet with that smug ‘I have something important to say’ face that Hayley hopes their daughter doesn’t inherit.

“Let us begin with a toast to our shared gift: immortality,” he says, glass held high. “After a thousand years, one might expect life to be less keenly felt, for its beauties and its sorrows do diminish with time. But, as vampires, we feel more deeply than humans could possibly imagine.”

With a gesture, a handful of wait staff step forward, hovering just over the shoulders of the gathered guests. It only takes one look at their identical glassy expressions to know they’ve been compelled. He continues, “Insatiable need, exquisite pain…,” She holds back a wince when each cuts their wrists filling the empty glasses with blood. “Our victories, and our defeats.”

When all the glasses are filled, he lifts his higher. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes lock on Marcel as he says, “To my city, my home again. May the blood never cease to flow…”

Marcel raises his glass with a wide smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “…and the party never end!”

Her eyes drift to Diego. It’s no secret that he resents Klaus’ takeover of the vampire faction, only following orders out of some misguided loyalty to Marcel. She waits to see if he’ll make a scene. Maybe that would liven things up around here, only to be disappointed when he raises his glass and murmurs, “To New Orleans.”

“To New Orleans,” they all refrain, drinking deeply. Hayley sips at her water, wanting nothing more than to shut herself in her room away from all the male posturing. But she knows Klaus well enough to understand that whatever he’s building to, he expects her to be present. She just wishes he’d hurry it up.

“I understand that some of you may have questions regarding the recent change in leadership.” An interesting way to refer to a failed assassination attempt staged by Marcel that led them all under Klaus’ subjugation. “And I invited you here tonight to assure you that you are not defeated. No, my intentions moving forward are to celebrate what we have. What Marcel, in fact, took and built for this community of vampires--

“And what about her?” Diego interrupts, ignoring Klaus’ veiled irritation. “The wolf.”

It’s a fair question, one that Hayley has asked herself more than once. Her own place in Klaus’ best-laid plans is still a mystery, even to her. She turns her head, watching Klaus warily.

“Had you’d let me finish, Diego, you would know that there is, of course, one further matter I would like to address.” Then he’s moving around the table, her stomach doing a backflip as he heads right for her. “As many of you know, the girl is carrying my child. Consequently, I trust you will all pay her the appropriate respect.” Which, to a vampire, is none. “However, I understand that some of you are concerned by this vicious rumor that I intend to use the blood of our child to create hybrids. I assure you, I do not.”

She can’t help the bitter curl of her lips. “Father of the year.”

If he was expecting elation or even relief, he finds none. The vampires spare the odd glance at Marcel before fixing him with a dozen blank, unsettled expressions.

With a dull satisfaction, she notes the way his eyes tighten at the corners and some of the sheen disappears from his grin. “It appears that I will have to earn your trust,” he says with a finality that makes her uneasy. “Very well. We’ll eliminate the root of your anxiety. You see, how can I sire any hybrids if there are no more werewolves alive in the bayou to turn?”

And Hayley’s heart crashes through the floor. “What?” she chokes in horrified disbelief. “Klaus, no!”

She’s only just gotten used to the idea of having family out there and now, to soothe the fears of some motley group of vampires, it’s all slipping through her fingers.

“So eat, drink and be merry,” he commands over the ringing in her ears. “And tomorrow, I suggest you have yourselves a little wolf hunt. Go ahead, have fun. Kill them all!”

The chair screeches in protest as she rises to her feet. She’s heard more than enough. Without a backward glance, she storms out of the room. Not that Klaus notices, he’s far too wrapped up in Marcel and his own blood lust to care.

Her feet lead her up the stairs to the second level, ignoring the exultations coming from below. When she reaches her room, she slams the door behind her hard enough to make the lamp on the dresser shiver. She doesn’t notice, she already has her phone in hand.

If she wants to stop this, she needs someone on the outside. But Elijah doesn’t answer, and neither does Lucie. And so she tries her one last lifeline and almost cries with relief when she hears Rebekah’s voice on the other line.

___

“So let me get this straight, not only are the Mikaelsons vampires but they’re the first ones in existence,” Cami says, once Lucie finishes giving her the thousand-foot overview of all things supernatural in New Orleans.

She’s sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. Across from her, Lucie mirrors her position. “Right, the Originals.”

“And while Marcel and Klaus are playing tug of war with the city, the witches,” That’s going to take some getting used to, “are also angling for control. And the werewolves…?” she trails, pinching her nose to ease some of the pressure building behind her eyes.

“Were banished from the city by Marcel decades ago.”

She groans in frustration, leaning sideways against the couch.

“You’ll catch on. It just takes some time.”

“It would be a lot if I could just remember.” She is still foggy on the details, but she knows enough to understand that what she had been experiencing wasn’t a slow descent into madness, but the effects of mind compulsion--another fun vampire trick. “You’re a witch. Are you sure you can’t just…I don’t know…wiggle your fingers and fix me?”

“Not a very good one.” Lucie’s lips pull into a frown. “I wish it was that easy.”

“When is anything in this town ever simple?” she asks with a laugh, but even she can hear the bitterness creeping in at the edges.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this. By the time I realized you were in the middle of it all, Klaus already had his hooks in you.”

Klaus. The arrogant son of a bitch that toyed with her for his own gain and made a smoothie of her brain. His name alone is enough to make her want to break something. “I’m more sorry that no one thought to tell me,” she snaps, regretting it the second she sees the pained look in Lucie’s eyes. She sighs. “I get it, but just tell me one thing; if you suspected what was going on, why didn’t you do something?”

“What makes you so sure I didn’t?” Lucie says, loaded with meaning.

“What are you—” She gasps when it clicks, fingers tracing the space around her wrist. “You mean the bracelet? How?”

“My great-great grandmother spelled it with vervain, to protect from compulsion.”

She’s quiet for a minute, taking in the new information as she swallows a fresh lump in her throat. “Well,” she starts with a shaky puff of laughter, “Now I really wish I hadn’t lost it.”

Lucie doesn’t respond, only gives her a long look before disappearing into one of the back rooms. She’s back in moments, dropping something cold into Cami’s palm as she sinks back down on the couch.

She uncurls her fingers and finds herself staring at the familiar sun and moon charms. “Where did you find this?”

“Let’s just say I stole it back from the person who stole it.”

“Stolen? But I thought I—fucking Klaus,” she swears. “I’m going to kill that asshole if I ever see him again.”

Lucie laughs, hands resting over her knees. “There might be a line.” It wrangles a chuck from Cami even as her expression turns serious. “I really am sorry you had to find out the way you did.”

She sighs before placing a hand over Lucie’s. “Help me with Klaus and we can call it even. Just keep me in the loop from now on. Deal?”

Her lips curve up in a small smile. “Deal.” Then her face falls once more. “Cami, there’s something else I need to tell you. It’s about Sean.”

---

The pounding in his head is the first thing Elijah is aware of, a persistent thrumming behind the eyes that beats in time with his pulse. His limbs are granite slabs as he raises shaking fingers to his temple. While he works up the courage to open his eyes, he notes the softness of the mattress beneath him, the familiar scent of wisteria, and the faint padding of footsteps somewhere beyond.

Steeling himself, he opens his eyelids. It’s just a crack, but enough for the pale moonlight to slip between the blinds and burn into his retinas with the full force of the sun. He groans, shielding them with the side of his hand. Forcing them wider, he blinks until it doesn’t hurt so much and the surrounding room takes shape. A gray coverlet frames him, and a pile of pillows behind his head props him up. Straight ahead, garments in various shades of black and gray hang from the open closest, the wall around the doors plastered with band posters.

Suddenly, the floral smell makes sense. And if this is the LeMarche home, then he must be in Lucie’s room.

Lucie.

He jolts upright, memories of last night flooding back to him in hazy flashes. Her wide, worried eyes when she found him in the alley. Her fingers had been cool against his burning skin. He remembers the tremor in her voice, the warmth of her presence at his bedside. The events warp and waver, take a darker turn as he recalls her heart pounding beneath her breastbone. The hot, heady elation as her blood pooled in his mouth and overwhelmed his senses.

Shame crashes over him in a tidal wave, remorse as sharp as the stake Rebekah drove through his chest before he could do something he couldn’t take back. He wants to sleep, maybe for a decade, until he’s ready to face her. Instead, he kicks off the covers, staggering to the side like a drunkard when his feet hit the floor. He grasps the edge of the dresser and pauses, glimpsing himself in the mirror.

The creature blinks back at him with red-rimmed eyes. Stubble is a dark shadow around his jaw while the hair at his head sticks up in every direction. He rakes a hand through the errant strands with an absent precision, unable to tear his eyes away from the damning rust-colored stain on his shirt.

He pulls away, following the sounds of life to the front entryway where he finds Lucie, sweeping glass into a dustpan. She does not notice his presence. It’s a chance to watch her undisturbed. As his eyes rake over her slight form, he notes the tired slump of her shoulders, the shadows beneath her eyes, and wonders if she’s been awake this whole time. But any worry over her exhaustion is eclipsed when he sees her neck. Identical bite marks taunt him, red and angry against her skin. His stomach lurches and guilt trickles in, hotter than the fever that had ravaged his system the last two days.

Before he can vanish from her life forever, before he can even begin to make amends, she turns. Whirling around in a flash of russet, she jumps when she spots him, free hand clutching her chest.

“Shit. I didn’t know you were awake,” she whispers. Then, before he can answer, she presses a lip to her finger and, with a glance down the hall, adds, “Cami is asleep in the other room. We can talk outside.”

She leads him back down the hallway and, abandoning the dustpan on the kitchen table, slips out into the backyard. The moon is only a day or two shy of full, so bright that even behind the clouds, its glow casts the withered garden in shades of silver and blue.

Neither of them speaks until they’re down the steps, hovering near the overgrown path that weaves around the garden, the spot where she’d once accepted his deal.

When she turns to him, the moonlight draws the bite mark into sharp relief again. Elijah’s shoulders tense and he shoves his hands into his pockets to curb any misguided attempt to brush his fingers against it. With an exhale, he opens his mouth to speak, but Lucretia beats him to it.

“Before you start whatever ‘I’m a monster speech’ you have on deck, it’s been a long night,” she says, arms folding over her chest. “Yes, you were a dick and scary and it also wasn’t your fault - don’t give me that look, it wasn’t. So can we just skip to the part where I forgive you and you agree to stop looking at me like a kicked puppy?”

For a moment, he says nothing, only watches her carefully. His guilt will not be so easy to abate, neither will the conviction that somehow his entrance into each other’s lives has only made things more complicated than they should be. But there’s no missing the resolve in her stare.

“Very well,” he says. “But in the spirit of negotiation, I’d like to make a counteroffer.” When she raises her eyebrows, he adds, “I will agree to your terms if you allow me to heal you with my blood.”

This time, it’s her turn to regard him silently. Her eyes scan his face and, not for the first time, he wonders what is going on behind those large, guileless eyes.

Her jaw sets in determination. “Alright, fine.”

It’s a quick thing, giving her his blood. He opts to give it to her in a mug retrieved from the kitchen. After his attack, anything more intimate than that seems a step too far. When he returns, it’s with his hand wrapped around the handle and a blanket draped over her arm. He hands her the former, ignoring the skeptical look his way when he tucks the latter over her shoulders.

Her nose wrinkles as she examines the macabre contents. And then, with a deep inhale, she chokes it down in a few quick gulps. To her credit, she doesn’t wince, only wipes at her mouth with her sleeve. And Elijah watches as the wound at her neck fades until it’s as if it never happened, almost. Though it dulls some of the sharper edges of his shame, the bulk of it remains.

“Lucretia, I know I do not have a right to ask any more of you,” he says, unable to endure any more silence. “But in my…state…last night, did I say alarming?”

Her hesitation gives him his answer, but, kind as she is, she does not make him ask for details. “There was a moment you thought I was someone else. You called me ‘Celeste’…” She must catch the way his cheeks heat because she adds, “Nothing too scandalous, I promise.”

He doesn’t miss the waver in her smile, the anxiety lurking in her dark eyes. So he gently prompts, “What else?”

“When I touched you, I saw one of your memories.”

With a catalog of ten centuries at her disposal, he doesn’t guess, only waits in growing apprehension for her to tell him which horrible act of brutality she’d witnessed firsthand.

“A ball at the governor’s mansion. Niklaus was there,” she says. “And Melodia.”

“I see.”

She shifts the knit fabric over her shoulders, pulling around herself and holding it closed with one hand. “I guess it only makes sense you knew each other.”

His head tips up to where the moon is still beaming down from a velvet field of stars. “She was a gifted witch, your progenitor. And good woman.” When he turns his attention earthward, he finds a strange expression on her face. “What’s on your mind?”

Though it’s dark, he swears he spots a flush on her cheeks. “I know it was a long time ago, but were you two…close?”

He furrows his brow, confused. And then, catching her meaning, he can’t help a small bark of laughter. “No, at least not in the way you’re thinking. …It was an alliance built on mutual respect and a common goal.”

She snorts. “Sounds familiar.”

“Perhaps,” he says with a wry smile. “With some notable differences.”

The breeze bats playfully at a loose curl. Elijah watches it flutter about her face as she bites her lip, deep in thought, and resists the urge to tuck it behind her ear. Soon, the impulse fades.

“Elijah,” she starts, so uncertain that he knows beyond a doubt what will follow. That does not stop his breath from hitching when she asks, “Who was he, the boy she mentioned?”

Silence ensues as Elijah debates over how much he wants to tell her. “His name was Cyrus,” he says, adjusting his cuffs. “A member of the Dupin family.”

Her lips pull into a frown, a line forming between her brows. “Dupin? I don’t know that name.”

“That is unsurprising. The Dupins were an ancient magical lineage from the Old World, powerful as they were proud. The boy was the last of their line,” he explains. “He was an orphan when we came to the city, with a vast inheritance and little sense.” Over his shoulder, he gives Lucie a half smile. “Of course, he took a shine to Niklaus.”

“Of course.”

“With his name and connections, he was vital to our integration into New Orleans society, and it was a fact he used to his advantage once he understood who we were. I believe Cyrus always veered toward ambition, but it was under my brother’s tutelage that the truth of his character began to take shape. From Niklaus, he learned to manipulate, to embrace his lust for power, and, in turn, my brother not only benefited from his status and deep pockets, but I believe the boy amused him.”

“Meanwhile, his powers grew with each passing year, until they were such that the elders of the nine covens feared his potential. I soon found myself equally troubled. You see, Cyrus had become obsessed with the immortality that my siblings and I possess, and I soon understood that he meant to obtain it by any means necessary.”

“But Klaus never meant to turn him.”

“No,” he concedes. “He did not. Niklaus strung the boy along with empty promises of siring him. After all, a powerful warlock beholden to no natural tenets or compunctions about morality was a valuable asset. And when the young Dupin heir finally realized that his master would not give him what he wanted, he endeavored to take it for himself. It was New Orleans that paid the price.”

“What happened?”

“I still do not understand the full extent of what he discovered or how he came upon it, only that it was an unnatural magic, the likes of which I’ve only experienced once, when my mother turned us into vampires. But a darkness fell upon the city as an eclipse blotted out the sun for days on end and it was then that Niklaus realized the true extent of his folly. Thankfully, we were not the only ones seeking a way to end his quest for power.”

“You mean…”

“Yes, for once in their storied history, my family and the witches of New Orleans worked together. Melodia LeMarche was the one to perform the rite that separated him from the Ancestral Well.”

“And Cyrus?”

“Severed from the font of his power, he was just as mortal as any human. Niklaus’ retribution was swift. And buried in unconsecrated ground, Melodia banished his spirit to isolation, in a place where he could never join the Ancestors.”

When Lucie shivers, he takes her hands in his. “There’s nothing to fear, Lucretia. Three centuries later, Cyrus is little more than a ghost story, even in my own mind. The ghosts of the past cannot harm anyone now.”

Seemingly placated, she only nods, her attention diverting upward. He follows her line of sight and watches a shadow pass over her features as a cloud covers the moon.

---

It had been an hour since she’d gotten off the phone with Rebekah. And though Hayley had solicited a promise from her she would come soon, she hadn’t specified when that meant. Waiting was an exposed nerve, one that flared up and gave her a nasty shock with each minute that passed.

Hayley Marshall is sick to death of waiting. Waiting for the end of her pregnancy, waiting to learn what fate Klaus has in store for her, and always, always waiting for someone else to come to her aid. It’s enough to drive a weaker person to insanity, but she’s made of steel and fangs and tougher things. And if it means saving the family she never knew she had, she’ll take on every vampire in Louisiana if she has to.

Besides the occasional peel of raucous laughter wafting up from the courtyard, the compound is quiet. Though bedecked with modern electricity, the light that bounces off the deep gray stucco is just enough to see by. A fact that she uses to her advantage as she slips down the stairs, hugging close to the shadows.

It’s a short walk to the side door, her heart hammering in her chest all the while. She doubts Klaus will inflict any serious punishment if she’s caught, at least not to her personally. And with a death sentence hanging over the wolves, there’s not much else he can do to her that matters.

She hazards a glance over her shoulder. When she finds the hallway empty, she steels herself, ready to bolt out the door and into the night. Before she can take a single step, a figure bars her path.

“Going somewhere?” Diego drawls, amused.

Her eyes narrow and her jaw clenches. Even as her hands ball into fists, she knows she’s no match for one of Marcel’s inner circle. Not for the first time since that fateful positive drugstore pregnancy test, she wishes she could shift into her stronger form. The one that would allow her to run away from this mess or at least maul the next person who tries to fuck with her or her baby.

Hayley doesn’t notice so much as a shadow before Diego’s head wrenches to the side at an unnatural angle and he goes limp.

She fights a smile when she glimpses a familiar form. “Took you long enough,” she says as Rebekah Mikaelson throws her victim into a nearby wall.

“Yeah, well, you might have warned me about the guard.”

She manages a huff before spinning around to strike down two more vampires lurking nearby.

“Alright,” she says, circling back over to Hayley. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

When she reaches out for her, Hayley steps back, ignoring Rebekah’s exasperated look. “About that,” she starts, feeling a bit guilty about her lack of transparency on the phone. “That’s not actually the help I had in mind. I’ve been deemed under protection by the almighty Klaus. It’s the werewolves who need help,” she powers through before Rebekah can so much as groan, “He ordered a wolf hunt as some jacked-up peace offering to Marcel’s crew. You have to help them.”

“Out in the Bayou?” Rebekah balks, looking at her like she has two heads. “Do I look like a bloody vampire rescue squad? I think you should be grateful I came to save you.”

And she is grateful, more than she expected. But she needs this and her people need her.

“Listen, Rebekah. All my life, I’ve wanted to know who my real family was, and just as I find out they’re out there in the Bayou, Klaus orders them killed. You want to help me? Help my people. Please.”

And maybe it’s the quaver of earnestness in her voice or maybe just Rebekah’s vulnerabilities where family is concerned, but somehow it works. She spots the moment her words break through, the way Rebekah sighs when she’s about to fold.

“Fine, but you owe me a new pair of boots this time.”

___

Only when Rebekah leaves, the fate of Hayley’s pack in her hands, does Hayley return to the calm oppression of the compound. She travels the winding halls with purpose, unsure of what she’s moving toward until she finds Klaus in the study. Pouring over a book from his spot in an armchair, he doesn’t acknowledge her presence, though she knows he heard her enter. His obvious dismissal stokes the embers of rage that have been roiling all evening, threatening to ignite.

She takes a step forward, fists clenched. “Those werewolves you ordered killed, that’s my family.”

Slowly, he turns his head to look at her. The directness of his gaze is unnerving, as if he’s not just immortal by omniscient. “Not for long, love. I mean, this so-called family of yours, they haven’t done you much good, have they?” She turns away from his stare and the sharp daggers of truth behind his intent to hurt her. “You said it yourself — they abandoned you and left you on your own. Now it’s simply your turn to do the same.”

“Maybe they had their reasons,” she fires back, hearing the undercurrent of doubt.

The book slams closed, punctuating his attempts at nonchalance as he rises to his feet. “Yes, well, I have reasons too, little wolf. If the werewolves are dead, then the vampires have less desire to kill you. I am trying to keep you safe.” And she hears it, the force of conviction in his words. “Not that you appreciate the effort.”

A thought returns to her then, like a bucket of ice water dropped over her head. “And as soon as I have this baby, what happens to me then?”

His silence is damning, amplified only by the flicker of guilt that flashes behind his eyes. She swallows hard, rage tempered only by her growing fear.

“Right... Well, lucky for me, I have a little while before I find out,” she says with a bitter smile. “And in the meantime, I will find a way to pay you back for this. As long as I’m in the family, you can’t do a damn thing about it.”

She doesn’t turn around to watch her words land, but she feels the heat of his eyes on her back until she rounds the corner and disappears from his view.

___

Cami sleeps through the morning and halfway into the afternoon. More than once, Lucie toys with the idea of waking her, but when she remembers breaking the news about Sean’s hex and holding her, helpless as she sobbed in her arms, she can’t bring herself to do it.

Instead, Lucie occupies herself with cleaning up the rest of the evidence of last night’s disaster. And when that’s finished, she plants roots in the kitchen and turns her hand to dinner, hoping that maybe a home-cooked meal with bring some semblance of normalcy back to her life.

She attacks the potato in her hand with short flicks of the wrist that send little chips of peel fluttering, collecting in a pile on the cutting board. All the while, she taps her toes, hums, tries to remember the words to a poem she recited in fourth-grade English. Anything to keep her mind distracted. But try as she might, the events of last evening creep back in, present as a hand on her shoulder - or wrapped around her fingers.

It’s both astounding and irritating how long after he’s gone, Elijah’s presence always seems to linger. Like fragments of his aura make their home in the walls and burrow deep into the floorboards. She’d watched him leave just as dawn was cresting over the neat rows of shingled roofs. And as his retreating form disappeared from view, she felt the same strange desolation that came with his departure. Was this how it would always be between them; one always left behind while the other chased down their demons?

The shuffling of feet against the tile breaks her out of her thoughts. She sets the vegetable down while there’s still something left of it, the little pile of shreddings has doubled in size, and finds Cami standing bleary-eyed in the doorway.

She groans, stretching her arms over her head. “Smells amazing in here.”

Picking up a knife, she dices the potato with deft precision before adding it to the stockpot. “Thought a stew seemed fitting with the chill. Should be ready in a half hour.”

Cami nods, raking a hand through her hair and stifling a yawn. “What time is it?”

Lucie glances towards the green numbers on the microwave. “Just a few minutes before four.”

The information must kick-start some life into her because her eyes go wide with panic. “Shit,” Cami exclaims, casting around for her phone. “I had a lunch shift today. Paulette is going to kill me—”

“It’s all good,” Lucie interjects, stirring the broth with a wooden spoon. “I called and let them know you weren’t feeling well. If your boss asks, you had a migraine. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh.” She seems to relax a little. “No, no. Thanks for doing that.”

Lucie nods as Cami settles in at the kitchen table, occasionally helping with chopping or peeling, but mostly content to pass the time in friendly conversation. Every now and then, she manages a smile and it's a tight, fragile thing as she makes sense of all she's learned. They’ve settled into a comfortable lull when the doorbell rings.

She sets down the knife with a frown, her eyes meeting Cami’s over her shoulder who shrugs. “Keep an eye on this, will you? I should go see who that is.”

It isn’t that strange for someone to be at the door in the middle of the day. In all honesty, it’s likely a solicitor or maybe a neighbor kid looking to make a quick buck moving lawns. Maybe it’s the lingering memory of vampires outside her door, but she feels a flicker of trepidation when she turns the knob.

But as the door pulls free, it isn’t Rebekah’s haughty expression or Elijah’s steady demeanor that greets her but a pair of big blue eyes.

“Davina?”

“I’m sorry to turn up here unannounced but I need your help.” She doesn’t wait for an invitation, brushing past Lucie and into the living room. “Marcel’s been lying to me. I can’t trust him anymore.”

There’s nothing to do but follow. Davina drops her back onto the floor near the couch, craning her head to peek around the doorway that leads into the kitchen.

“Oh, hi Cami,” she says with a wave before turning back to Lucie. “I didn’t know you knew each other.”

Lucie blinks owlishly, her brain trying to catch up with the teenage witch in her living room. Meanwhile, Cami sets down the spoon and wiping her hand on a dish towel, pads into the living room with a confused expression. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Davina’s brows scrunch together, and then, all at once, understanding seems to dawn. “Oh, you’ve been compelled.”

She closes the distance, and as she leans forward to inspect Cami, Cami leans away. “What are you doing?”

All at once, Lucie’s sluggish thoughts catch up and she feels a surge of apprehension at the look on the girl’s face. “Davina, wait—”

“It’s okay,” she says to Lucie, and then to Cami, she adds with a reassuring smile, “I can fix you. I’m really sorry, but this is gonna hurt.”

#elijah mikaelson fic #elijah mikaelson x oc #elijah mikaelson x ofc #elijah x oc #elijah x ofc #the originals fic #original female character #elijah mikaelson #originals fic

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taylorhawkins · 2 years ago

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NHC interviewed by American Songwriter x

Hawkins: I mean, what can I say about singing? I don’t know much about it other than I try. I get a little more confident with each thing. Doing these shows has brought up my confidence and just learning tactically how to do it. Not just spazzing or performing, but trying to sing good. I sound kind of hoarse right now.

Chaney: It’s part of your voice, T. It’s part of your voice.

Navarro: If I can speak to that, not only is Taylor a brilliant singer and an identifiable singer. You know, there are lots of great singers that when you hear them, you’re not really sure who it is. But Taylor has one of those voices that’s great and you know who it is if you’ve heard him sing, which I really love. But don’t forget that 80% of the shows that we do, he’s also playing drums while he’s singing, which is fucking crazy.

Chaney: Which is Levon Helm, Don Henley on steroids, and then some.

AS: It’s so hard to do.

Hawkins: You guys, man.

Chaney: Just take it, bask in it.

Navarro: I’ll be playing rhythm guitar and he’ll want me to do a backup and I just can’t compute it. There’s just no way. I can do this one, but I can’t do that one. You know, there are certain times I can do it and certain times that I can’t.

Hawkins: You can do it.

Navarro: And the amount of stuff that he is doing simultaneously is fucking insane, man. It’s mind-blowing!

Chaney: To put it another way, as a drummer, I’m fortunate, Dave and Taylor—we’ve played with other drummers who are phenomenal. I’ve played with a lot of drummers. And some of these drummers try to play some of the grooves that Taylor plays and can barely pull that off and not with the swagger and the feel. Forget the singing and the melodic range he has as a vocalist. So, the marriage of those…

Hawkins: This makes me uncomfortable. Come on, stop.

#I love how every interview with this band is just each one of them going on and on about how amazing the other 2 are #I also love that I had to put their last names because Taylor had a Dave and a Chris in his other band as well #taylor hawkins #dave navarro #chris chaney #NHC #navarro hawkins chaney #interviews & articles #t sings #American songwriter #2021 #pics #I found the full version yeehaw

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kichimiangra · 2 years ago

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If Specter decided to make the human protagonist prisoners wear outfits, what kind would he likely decide on?

I was thinking those striped jailhouse prisoner uniforms except belly shirts and skirts for everyone. They all get the little caps, and are wearing them because they are cute.

Excellent the professor, he gets to keep his pants. Professional courtesy.

I've had it in my head for a while that not all the apes gravitate towards a human standard of Gendered clothing, and Specter just genuinely enjoying the aesthetic that female clothing tends to have because they tend to be flashier than mens clothes, not in a way wear he dresses in them himself because he has his own wardrobe that screams "Great ape leader of unimaginable intelligence and power" but in the video game logic of "If I am going to be playing this MMO for 100+ hours staring at an avatar it might as well be an avatar I'd like to stare at for 100+ hours!" So the idea of Specter going "I am going to dress you all up while your my prisoners in ways I would like to stare at while I lord over my victory over you all!" is completely on point. Not that he's unaware that human society genders wardrobes, that's just a control bonus.

Off/On Topic, I once read on the wiki, the wiki that was constantly a cesspool of uncited misinformation being constantly changed but sometimes had cool ideas and influenced how I interpret some of the characters, Kusco's wiki, that Kei was a sportswear model for magazines and shit, which is gone from the wiki and I'm not sure if there was any truth to it like it was in the anime or something I didn't watch that season cuz it was never subbed. But anyway I always liked the idea that Kei was a model because it put him in the same tier as his sister as "Teen celebrity protagonists" rather than just another compassionate genki-boy... because it makes him stand out a bit more when put next to Spike, Jake, and Jimmy, next to his sister who is an idol, so ALSO the idea of being handed their new 'prisoner uniforms' and Kei going " :I.... Yeah okay. I'm going to rock this so hard Specter is going to be PISSED at how good I'm going to look. I know how to sweat juuuust right to glisten for any lighting. This Ape is going to regret how good I'm going to look in this from all angles of any security cam. I will have just the right amount of swagger it will be insane." while also picking which amateur selfies he's going to add to social media for ad revenue to buy a playstation is also on brand to me.

#art #ape escape #ape escape spike #ape escape yumi #Ape escape Kei #Ape escape Jake #Ape escape Satoru #Ape escape Sayaka #professor ozel

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hrshlandturtles · 2 years ago

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Hide and seek

This was just a hide and seek session. Nothing more nothing less.

Then why couldn't he find this one child?

He knew that 10 years olds were good at hiding, and it was even easier in the sewers where a lot of garbage ended up.

But that was exactly why he made the longest list of rules he has ever made, and ever seen.

Then why?

He had been excited like all the others. He knew that he could manage such an easy game and he loved being the best in everything.

But being excited on his own without anyone else to compete with... Wasn't quite as interesting.

"Donnie!" he screamed, half scaring the albino to death. "Do you have an idea where to hide?"

Once recovered from his fright, Donnie side-stared suspiciously at him.

"Is there a particular reason as to why you wish to be aware of such information?"

"No? I mean, yes, a bit," answered Leo. "It's just that... To be real, you're not very good at physical stuff."

"Hum, beg your pardon but I can handle myself."

"Really? Because Dad said-"

"-it doesn't matter," stopped Donnie.

The softshell turned toward him, face completely blank, and stared at him.

Understanding the message, the mata mata raised up his hands and back walked out of the room.

"Fine, I'll be wining then!"

"No you won't!?" yelled back Donnie.

With one brother taken care of, Leo set onto finding Mikey.

He knew that this specific brother would be in the "art room". The only place where they all were allowed to make a mess of things without having to clean up right after. And here he found him.

Mikey was trying a new set of paints he somehow found in the sewers. He wouldn't say where he got it but he seemed to have fun with those things, so it was common rule not to bother him about those random apparitions.

"Hey Mickey, ready for the big game?" asked Leo.

"Leo, it's not a "big game"," told him Mikey.

"Every game is a big game."

Mikey sighed, giving his wrist a last twist to finish his art, "I don't get why you see everything as a big game when you win most of the time."

"It's specifically because I see everything as a big game that I win," swaggered Leo, touching around the room.

"I know you're here to lower the morale, but this time I will win," retorted Mikey, swatting Leo's hand from a drying work. "I know you can't beat us all the time, and this time is not one of those time."

"Good to hear! Because I already rigged Donnie into the competition," announced Leo, happy with himself.

As he left the room, he heard Mikey let out a rather evil laugh to himself.

This was going so well.

Raph was the toughest of his brothers to convince that the game was worth it. That any games were, really.

The thing with Raph was that since he was a tortoise, in opposition to his brothers being turtles, it made it difficult for him to follow along sometimes.

He loved art as much as Mikey, to drabble with small things as much as Donnie and to have fun in sports as much as Leo.

But again, different physionomy.

So Leo had to motivate him a bit.

He arrived in front of the tortoise room and gently knocked on it.

"Yeah?" said a small voice from inside.

"Can I come in?"

Leo heard a rumble echoing in the room and, deciding it was a welcoming sign, entered.

"Yooooo Raphie-doo? How's it going?" he asked to the mass of plushies in the middle of the room.

Said room was already filled with different soft things all aroubd, but nothing coul beat the insane amount of plushies his brother had. Everyone envied him for his collection.

Another rumble. Leo sat down near the pile, placing himself as comfortably as possible.

"Not that motivated for the game?"

"Why should I be?" the pile of plushies cried.

"Because it's a great game?" proposed Leo.

"Oh yeah? Well maybe for y'all, but not for me," said the pile, moving Leo out of place.

"Why not?"

The pile moved once more, plushies falling on the floor, and revealed the round back of a dark tortoise. A face poked out of the shell, a red bandana on top of it.

"Have you seen me?" it asked.

"I did," answered Leo. "And I know that this time you're gonna be fine."

The blue ninja was met with silence.

"I swear! It's hide and seek. In the sewers. The field is leveled!"

"You. Hamato "let's test if I can do that even if I break something including myself" Leonardo. Managed to convinced dad. To go play hide and seek in the sewers?" asked Raph.

Leo nodded intensely, happiness and excitement seeping through.

"How many rules?"

"Enough for me to turn it into a challenge and enough for all of you to make it fair," he explained.

Raph nodded pensively and slowly came out of his shell. Leo was radiating again. It seemed like he had managed to enroll everyone into it.

"Alright then, I'll take part of it," confirmed him Raph.

"Thank you!" he yelled, before hugging his brother rapidly and depositing a kiss on his cheek.

The young mata mata left the room more excited than ever.

This was really troublesome. One of the rules was explicitly "stay within a 500 meters perimeter and absolutely do not leave outside of a 1 km perimeter". The other was that Leo was supposed not to try anything dangerous, such as going into the higher pipes.

So where could this child possibly be?

He stopped himself before he could let out a chuckle. His hiding place was perfect and it fitted all of the rules his dad has listed.

No one could possibly find him and he had made sure of that.

Yoshi had noticed the three others right away. Raphael was hiding as a rock near a pile of debris from a broken down wall, Donatello had managed to somehow make a suit out of broken down metal and whatnot and was hiding near the water, and Michelango... Yoshi was proper impressed by him.

He had painted all over his body in a brick pattern and positioned himself so still that Yoshi had had difficulty checking if he was still breathing. But he was, and somehow he also had stood very still for the past 5 minutes.

The capybara has perused around the allotted premises for those past minutes in order not only to find all of his children, but also, and mostly, to check if they put themselves in any kind of danger. It also was useful for him to decide on which kid to come uncover first.

He couldn't find Leonardo at all, so he decided on the most logical of solution and walked towards the metallic debris.

"Donatello, my child," he whispered to him. "I've found the others, but the most logical solution dictates that I come to you first."

With a grown, he watched his child stand up from the debris and loudly drop his suit.

"Care explaining to me your logic?"

"Well, first, I cannot let you be in that much of a germ filled environment. Second, I needed to come to the one that would be the least upset or feeling bad for being found first. That was not necessarily you, but I know you would understand for this once. Third, I cannot seem to find Leonardo, and I might need help with that, you being the best I could have for this specific task," he explained.

"Reasonable," acquiesced Donatello. "Can I make a suggestion?"

"Of course."

"I think it would be best to uncover Raphael last. He tends to not be able to follow us as well on most of the games we play."

"That is very sound, my child," nodded Yoshi. "I was thinking about changing some rules of the games to account for his differences with you."

Donatello nodded back, clearly proud of himself. Yoshi extended his hand towards him, cheerfully taken right away. They walked towards the wall against which Mikey was standing.

"Michelango, my son, your disguise is wonderful," told him Yoshi. "I'm sure that with time, I would be fooled even longer."

The kid slouched instantly, allowing Donatello to see him properly. It was a good disguise indeed.

"You're too good dad," the orange themed one cried. "Next time we'll make you count longer."

Yoshi let out a chuckle. Little did his son knew, he did took longer to count. He knew that even if they had all prepared themselves, it would take time to place themselves the right way.

"We need to find Leo next," pointed out Donatello.

The child took Michelango's hand and started walking away from their father and towards a darker place in the sewers.

While looking at them go away, Yoshi slowly stepped in direction of Raphael, humming loudly to appear pensive.

Once arrived in front of the debris, he made two turns around it, noticing it giggle with laughter.

"I wonder, how can a rock that big be here?" he asked out loud.

The big rock laughed even louder.

"Raphael? Is it you?" he asked.

The pile moved and a tortoise came out from it, letting out a big scream, clearly intented to scare him.

Faking choc, Yoshi took a step back before coming back forward and bumping his snout with Raphael's forehead, making the child giggle even more.

"It was a fine disguise, my son," he assured him.

"I really thought you would discover me first," confessed Raphael.

Yoshi crouched and placed his hand on his son's cheek, "I have keen eyes and have indeed found you fast, but not right away."

Raphael nodded, "So I need to get better..."

Caressing his cheek, Yoshi smiled at him and proposed a hand, promptly taken. With his third child in hand, he rejoined with his two others.

He did his best not to giggle. He could hear them. He heard Splinter doing a round a bit before, looking for them all, then he heard Mikey and Donnie helping him, to no avail.

He had managed to chose the best place ever. Not only that, but in his preparation, he had made his hiding place even more suitable for him to hide. It wasn't that uncommon to see this kind of things in the sewers.

How couldn't he find his own son?

He knew that it would've been a possibility, especially coming from this one. He had a tendency of trying to be the best - even if it put him in danger - that Yoshi always had to look out for.

But this time he had put rules. He had made sure that he won't do this kind of thing, and he knew that Leonardo had not only agreed to it but that his son was clearly aware that if he wanted to be able to participate in such a game next time, he had to abide by the rules. So why was he unfindable now?

"Donatello?" the capybara asked to the softshell. "Do you have your latest invention on you and is it working?"

Right away, he could hear Donatello's excited taps followed by his affirmation. "I do! Let me turn it on."

The young turtle stepped in front of him in order to show him what was happening on the screen. His invention wasn't really one, on the matter that it already existed, but he still came up with the design and the technology behind it. So they agreed to call it "his invention".

The screen displayed a range of colours going from a deep purple to a bright yellow, matching the sewer display they had in front of their eyes. Right in front of them, however, was the mass of trash clogging the small canal.

Yoshi usually removed those in order to avoid any kind of problem if ever a storm were to happen again, but he allowed it to stay this time in case any of his children needed something in there.

But there, in the middle of the mass (displayed in purple on the screen) was a red mass. This difference in colour meant a difference in heat, which could only mean one thing: Leonardo was in there.

Yoshi had no idea how he managed not to notice him at all. He knew that his specific species of turtle were good at hiding in riverbanks, but he wasn't expecting him to manage to hide himself so well.

He took a step towards the mass. And clearly enough, the bark of wood in the middle of it seem slightly strange, especially with other smaller pieces of a different wood around it.

"Leonardo?" the capybara asked, quite unsure, but trying not to sound like it too much.

Fairly enough, the mass moved to reveal a turtle.

He knew by his dad's voice that he had been worried. This means that not only has his hiding place been the best of all (especially considering the time they all took to find him) but also that he managed to hide so well that even his own father has had difficulties finding him.

Which meant that, once more, he was the best!

"Dad! I made it difficult for you, heh?" he asked proudly.

"You did indeed, my child," answered Splinter.

Leo noticed by his stance that he had been more than just worried. He had been stressed. His fur was slightly raised up, his pupils slightly different than they usually were and the hand that wasn't reaching for him was clenched. So he reached to take the open one and hold it gently.

"I suppose that next time there won't be no need for me to test my level in hiding," he said, trying to appear pensive. "It takes a bit too long and I'm sure I made everyone really hungry."

"Yeah, I'm hungry now that you mention it," acquiesced Mikey.

"Me too," added Raph.

"Alright, let's have a snack then," caved Splinter.

They all moved back to the lair, Leo still holding his dad's hand. Once inside, he pulled on it gently.

"Hey, sorry I worried you," he whispered in his ear once he was at his level. "I just noticed my shell looked like a log and you hadn't cleared the storm trash away, so I wanted to see how good a disguise it could be."

Splinter smile at him gently and caressed his cheek. "It's alright. I was indeed worried, but I'm relieved that you were nearby the whole time and didn't put yourself in danger," he told him. "I'm also glad that you did abode to the rules. I suppose it means that I can trust you on those things next time?"

Leo nodded. Of course he could be trusted. They might all be the same age, but he knew that he always led things, and if it meant that he had to abide by certains rules even though he didn't really like them, then so be it. He rather take on the mantle of the one in charge rather than seeing his dad in a state of worry or stress.

#my little tmnt iteration #This time it's about Leo #Tmnt iteration #Tmnt AU

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lexialeixs · 1 year ago

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The shadow swept over the ground and people scurried around terrified and screaming. I watched as a mother wept clutching her child. I pulled my cloak over my head, I did not want to kill anyone, but it was my job. It was killing or don't get paid and I needed the money. "Well why don't I end your misery." The woman opened her mouth, but the sword cut across her neck and no sound was able to come out. Blood oozed down her throat I wipe the blade with my cloak and strode away from the chaotic town square toward a building with a sign that says

THE GUNLOW PUB

"Let's see what new beauty I might be having today." I examine the horses one by one and I find the best one a white mare shire horse. "It's your lucky day, miss Tundra," I look at her name engraved in the bridal and whistle. "And no, I'm not your owner but I am now." I take the tack off her and replace it with mine, I put it on the black stallion horse I was riding and use a rope to tie around the stallion's neck. "And where do you plan on taking that white horse?" a calm, deep and demanding voice questions.

I look up and see a broad shouldered and muscular guy standing on the other side of the horse. I survey him. He wears a black cloak one side wrapped over his shoulder the other shoulder is covered with a blackish silver armor. His neck is surrounded by a cloth that looks like metal his cloak's hood is pulled up and his eyes are dark hazel and could be mistaken for dark brown. They have a very dangerous fire in them.

"I own this horse." I lie. "Really because I don't remember selling Tundra." He walks around the horse and leans on her. I am not intimidated by the swagger of his walk or the mischievous grin on his face. "Oh, so you're the unfortunate one losing your horse that's too bad." Why couldn't I get the drunk idiot man, why did I have to get this ASSASSIN!

"So, you're an Assassin, I would have slit your throat before you could open your bastard attitude mouth." I immediately take caution and keep my hands where I can quickly grab one of the weapons, I have stored on me. "Well, you just like to say what's on your mind. I'll make you a deal, you give me my tack and 10 pounds, and you can have my horse." I am appalled at the amount. "10 are you insane! I'll give you 5?" I wait. "Deal, but next time it's your neck on the rope." I give him his tack and the 5 pounds and walk away with my new horse. I touch the 5 pounds in my pocket and wonder how long it will take him to realize it's missing.

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liitlesunshiine · 4 years ago

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Villainous Taste

(Detective reader x Villain Bakugo)

Warnings: NSFW, smut, mentions of death, degradation, manipulation, very bad bad stuff, dubcon, noncon, assault, sub/dom themes, don’t read if sensitive to violent themes

_________________

You sighed in frustration at your desk that was fully covered with a mountain of papers. It’s been over year now since you’ve been assigned to the notorious Bakugo, Katsuki case; and you’ve made little to no progress on catching the pesky fucking villain. You were losing your patience by the day. Especially since it felt like a personal attack on your ego that you still haven’t managed to pin this guy down. The great detective Y/N, Y/LN getting played and taken a fool by the villain himself. It’s not like you’ve made no progress though. There were times, many instances in fact, when you managed to pin the villain down. The constant face to face encounters only ending with the villain toying with you and taunting you. It’s honesty a surprise that you’re still alive considering all the chances he has had to kill you. Condescending dick, you were sure he was getting off by the chase. This all seemed to be a game to him and it infuriated you even more since you were practically entertaining it. He was thriving off the little interactions with the quirkless detective.

The way he would cockily stride his way to you with that big smirk smeared across his face. Eyes devouring your body that left an unsteady chill run down your spine. His presence held such power and intimidation that you couldn’t help but take steps back with every step he took forward. You always felt like a deer in headlights whenever he swaggered towards you. No amount of experience or expertise will ever get you accustomed to his predatory gaze.

“Go figure they’d send a quirkless bitch my way. They must really hate’ya.” He said with a rather amusing look, never breaking his eye contact with you. He grabbed a piece of your hair twisting it softly between his fingers, as if he were inspecting it. You could’ve sworn he was sniffing it too.

Yea, you were quirkless but you managed to hold your own ground. Having to work ten times as hard, having to prove yourself among your peers and having to earn the respect and position you have worked so tirelessly for years. While being quirkless was a hinderance or handicap as some would say, it was a mountain that you decided needed to be climbed. You reached its peak and planted your flag years ago. This title wasn’t given to you mindlessly. You dedicated tears, sweat, and blood to get to where you are now. Gained recognition from higher up heroes themselves and even managed to get assigned to Bakugo’s case; the most wanted and powerful villain in Japan. Now, you weren’t in denial either, you were well aware you stood no chance against the hero toe to toe. Hell, even the top tier heroes themselves barely made it out alive. You were simply here to pinpoint his locations and set up an area for his arrest. What seemed to be a simple task ended up as a wide scale massacre with Bakugo skimping through all the heroes nonchalantly. It was a complete blood bath. All the pro heroes who were posted for defense that day were to be blown up to pieces; the graphic scene till this day haunts you in your sleep. Sleepless nights and paranoia became a norm, with the image of him dripping with blood casually stalking towards you was something that you have not been able to shake out of your head for months now.

He had forced you into an alley that day. You were trying your best to steady your breathing and figure out an attempt to get the fuck out of this predicament. Your eyes skimmed for any opening, avoiding his intense gaze, looking anywhere but his blooded face.

You felt your back hit against the wall. He was now sickly close to you, you placed your head down in shame looking at his shoes rather than his face. Knowing damn well there was no way out of this situation. Beads of sweat ran down your back and colored your forehead. He slammed both his hands against the wall, causing you to jump, your head now trapped in between his forearms. His body hovered over, the smell of blood forcing its way into your nose. The intense body heat radiating off of him, had your head spinning. You felt frozen in place, every worst case scenario rushing through your mind, trying to stay steady while silently sobbing to yourself.

“My eyes are up here slut.” He gripped your chin roughly forcing your eyes to meet his. You took in the rough image of the villain in front of you. You saw the spiky unruly hair sticking out in every direction, some parts drenched in the blood of his victims. His sharp facial features looked even more intimidating under this light, little scars freckled his skin here and there scattered throughout; and his 5 o'clock shadow appearing in patches. It was his eyes that took you by surprise most. None of the pictures posted online, none of the documents you saw ever matched what appeared in front of you. The dark ruby colored eyes stared curiously back at you, analyzing your every move. The stare felt strangely intimate, and it probably would’ve been considering the circumstance. Y/N wasn’t sure if she was really fully conscious of what was happening, but having him so close was making her feel unnerved. Hell, even as a villain there are many people who admire and drool over the criminal. But seeing him this up close drenched in the blood of your peers was when the fear and guilt washed over you and you quickly snapped out of his trance. You were brought back to your senses and reminded of your current predicament. The images of the heroes fighting and dying at the hands of this animal quickly flooded in. Anger now overwhelming your sense. You reminded yourself that you were quirkless, not helpless. And with that thought, you broke your intense gaze away from him, slapping his hand off your chin and quickly spitting in his face. The action caught him rather off guard and you took this delayed response to knee him in the balls and bolt for it “FUCKING BITCH!” He roared.

Ever since then your encounters with Bakugo have been rather odd to say the least. You didn’t really know how else to describe it. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking. There were instances where he would get rather “touchy” and others where he would straight up just physically hurt you. It was a wind whirl of emotions and odd behavior whenever you encountered him. You didn’t know what to make of it either. He could’ve killed you months ago and the fact that he hasn’t, has left you feeling uncomfortable and confused. You felt yourself wanting to avoid him now, you haven’t been prioritizing his case anymore and you’ve lost all the spunk and passion you had in the beginning. Continuously failing to catch him and having countless of pro heroes dying at the hands of his explosions was something you no longer had the heart to bare.

Especially now that whenever you found him he’d just toy with you. It was beginning to seem as if he's looking forward to these little encounters, like he’s waiting for you. You began to notice the issue when he was becoming purposefully sloppy in hiding his tracks, it was if he was screaming to be caught. And after working his case for over a year Y/N knew his actions, how careful and precise he could be when he wanted to. A perfectionist in his own right but now, now he was practically waving a flag yelling at you where he is and to come and get him. This was a total 180 from his usual behavior and tactic and with each encounter becoming more unseemly; Y/N thought it was best to take a break from the scandalous villain. You decided on no longer participating on the missions. You couldn’t shake off the eerie feeling of this situation and where you were once so headstrong stepping into the battlefield, your courage and pride was stripped from you. Now the only thing you prioritize was staying the hell away from him. So with whatever information you did find on the villain was quickly handed over to the hero agency without any hesitation.

After a few months of you steering clear from the villain, his crime scenes were becoming more brutal and graphic by the week. His killing sprees drastically increasing and the victims were piling up. Y/N couldn’t help but to let guilt consume her. Thoughts of Bakugo infiltrated Y/N’s mind. From the moment she woke up, to while she’d desperately attempt to sleep. You felt yourself slowly going insane. As if your movements were being watched at all times. Your mental state began taking a toll on you and was affecting your work. You could no longer focus on anything for a span of time without the mere image of a bloodied Bakugo appearing in your head.

His case was one you guiltily found compassion in. One of the top students in UA Academy showing nothing but absolute potential to become a top ranking hero crumbled and fell to villainy after his long time friend Izuku Midoriya, was killed trying to save him. It appeared the guilt ate him up inside and as a result, Bakugo quickly blamed the heroes for being weak and unable and decided on taking matters to his own hands by killing everyone involved that day in Midoriya’s death. This paired on with him living in an abusive household led to what he is now, at least that’s what Y/N assumed. Y/N’s heart felt torn in two feeling somewhat sympathetic towards him due to his rough upbringing and traumatic past but either way it did not excuse the atrocities he was committing now. You felt yourself falling deeper into the rabbit hole because of this man. You finally decided this couldn’t continue on any longer. You requested a transfer, figure you cut your losses with Bakugo’s case and move on with your life.

It had been two weeks since you’ve transferred departments and moved into the inner city of Tokyo. It was new, it was adventurous, and it was a step forward. A perfect way to start fresh and move on. You felt the withdrawals from Bakugo’s case every now and then, mainly the guilt consuming you at night or whenever you saw the news appear on TV with a new crime he had committed. You did your best to avoid those emotions though. He was no longer your problem and you did everything you could anyways. Regardless, your attempts at catching him always resulted with blood on your hands.

It was a particular long day at work. You decided on staying later than usual setting up the finishing touches in your new office. You figured you’d also catch up on some cases to avoid getting swamped on Monday. By the end of it you came to realize it was a quarter past midnight. “Oh shit, I gotta get the hell outta here,’ you mumbled to yourself while you quickly got your personal things and organized the remaining loose ends in the office. You locked up everything and exited out the building, deciding on taking the metro home since you felt exhausted and couldn’t commit to the 2 mile walk.

You weren’t used to the metro being so empty and silent, but it was rather peaceful you thought. While the doors open you took no notice in the looming figure behind you. Exhausted and empty minded you walked in, to the doors behind you closing. You were instantly snapped out of your daze when you got shoved against the pole and a hand quickly covering your mouth to silence your scream.

“I’m real upset quirkless.” You immediately recognized the voice and a chill ran down your spine. You looked up to see the reflection of Bakugo off the window, he was staring at you dead in the eye. His signature scowl heavily evident on his face.

“Are you trying to hide from me? Made me follow your ass all the way to Tokyo now? Come on quirkless, you know I hate being teased.” He positioned himself to have his crotch lined up with your ass. You felt the pressure only getting bigger with each word he spoke. Your heart was racing by this point, you tried to wiggle your way out of his grasp but he only gripped you harder as a result. He pulled your hair forcing you to look at him once again through the reflection.

“What happened slut, got bored of me? Am I not important enough anymore to catch? I’ve killed hundreds of people ya know, why did you stop trying to arrest me? Don’t tell me another villain got your attention. I don’t mind killing off the competition babe.” He gripped your hair even harder to the point where your skull was becoming numb, your cheeks already salted with tears.

“Fucking slut, I should seriously punish you. You’ve been making me work overtime.”

The train did a gradual stop and the doors open once again with two individuals walking in. Y/N felt a bit of hope wash over her until Bakugo moved to sit down on the opposite direction, forcing you on top and both your backs facing the two people who just walked in. Since he was wearing a hoodie no one would be able to recognize him from this angle. Right now the situation looked like two people who are just foundling on the train. You now sat directly on top of the villain’s lap. His hand still covering your mouth harshly. When you felt the bulge in his pants fully erect is when you began to whimper.

“Awe, did my slut miss me? Don’t worry detective, I’ll give you some nice warranted attention.” His free hand began to stroke your exposed thigh. The action immediately had you squish your thighs together and attempt to get away. But he simply responded with gripping you tighter.

“Try anything and I’ll fucking take you right here, right now. I’ll blow up everyone in this fucking train. Try me bitch.”

He placed a testing hand on your thigh and tapped it softly as if waiting for your reaction. You stayed still not daring to move. “Come on baby, open up for your favorite villain.”

You silently nodded your head no, more tears springing out. He gripped your thigh roughly.

“Y/N, I won’t ask again. Fucking open.” The authority and venom that came from that demand left you having goosebumps. The fear reached you and before you knew it, you had your legs opened and spread for him.

"Atta girl.” He hummed satisfied and began stroking your inner thigh. Absolute shame and guilt overtaking your senses, you felt completely out of control and held prisoner. Your mind trying to disassociate itself with the current reality you’re in right now. But only to being brought back with his rough hands violating you and his threatening tone looming over you. “Now, I’m gonna release my hand from your mouth. If you make any fucking noise, I’ll kill everyone in this metro and make you watch while they beg for their lives, m’kay.” You nodded rather quickly, you wouldn’t be dumb enough to even dare to do such a thing. Too many people have already fallen victim to this animal, you refuse to take part in anymore blame for it. You’d figure you just let him use you and quickly get over the situation and forget it ever happen. Maybe you’ll set up an attempt to try and kill him yourself. Either way, the sooner this is over the sooner you get to go home and ball your eyes out and come up with a plan. He hummed again with your response.

“Good girl.” His hand slowly and hesitantly left your mouth and snaked its way to your thighs. He gripped both of them and forced your legs to open wider.

"Really liking the skirt baby. Makes accessing you so much easier.” He chuckled in your ear, mocking you. Ironic considering this is the first time you’ve worn a skirt in over a year. Your fucking luck. This whole thing was just entertainment for him, bastard.

His hands slowly made themselves lower reaching the inner most part of your thighs. He pulled the skirt up, completely showcasing your thong and pantyhose. You practically heard him salivating behind you. You tried to close your legs feeling painfully embarrassed.

“Tsk. What did I say Y/N” he forced your legs apart once again but with more aggression and speed, that lead you to buckle your hips onto him. You instantly became flushed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks at the realization of what you just did. You heard him groan.

“Such a fucking tease.” He ripped your pantyhose apart, giving him full entrance to your underwear. The cold air had a cooling sensation on your inner thighs and you felt yourself softy throb. You let out a silent whine and he quickly shoved two of his fingers in your mouth while the other started doing soft circles on your clit.

“Fuck quirkless. You’re so wet, always knew you were a fucking whore for me.”

Even to your surprise you didn’t expect yourself to be this hot and ready for him. You felt completely betrayed by your body but you couldn’t help in relishing in the sensation. It felt so good to finally be touched by someone even if it was someone as vile as him. Is this what it feels like to have the most dangerous man about finger fuck you on the metro train? Maybe you can just pretend you’re getting touched by Jim- the cute and quirky coworker of yours, but with every flick even that was seeming to be difficult already. You were sucking and licking his fingers shamelessly and subconsciously grinding down on his erection. You were definitely disgusted from yourself. But you’d be lying if the thought of fucking this villain hasn’t crossed your mind. Especially with the constant harassment you faced whenever you crossed paths, how he’d violate you but never to this extent. Always leaving you in an array of emotions. Even now you’re having a hard time understanding what exactly is happening.

Your eyes snapped right open when the fingers in your mouth left to slap your pussy. You glared at him with a concerning look. He only smiled in response, the sadistic kind.

“You seemed distracted baby. Got me doing all this work and you’re not even paying attention.”

His wet fingers hooked your underwear and causally pulled them off. You were now completely exposed and the reality of the situation was settling on you. “Bakugo please don’t.”

“After you were sucking and grinding on me? Don’t act so innocent now bitch, you’re fucking soaked. Pussy is practically begging for my cock.”

He slipped one finger inside slowly, as if he was exploring the inside of your pussy. His fingers were thick and scarred due to years of using his quirk. The sensation alone was enough for you to throw your head back on his shoulder, opening your legs wider for him. You couldn’t grasp the reason for your actions. Here you were shamelessly opening yourself up and enjoying the fingers of a villain who has caused so much destruction and brought about so much pain in your life. How is it that you’re enjoying this? You really are a terrible person.

“Fuck baby, this is quite the sight.”

Any attempt in trying to hide what you and Bakugo were doing was completely thrown out the window by the sloppy and lewd noises from the villain fingering you. You began to bite your bottom lip in attempt to hold back the moans trying to escape you when he added a second finger.

“Don’t hold them noises back, let these people know how good you feel from just by my fingers slut.” By this point you couldn’t control the soft noises coming out of you even though you were trying. He was fingering you with such expertise, you were feeling yourself beginning to melt under him. When was the last time someone had touched you liked this? Are you so touch starved that you’re about to cum from out of all people- Bakugou Katisuki? Your mind was spinning.

The train reached its second stop. You tried to close your legs and compose yourself before the doors had open but Bakugo didn’t stop his assault. “Bakug-“

“Keep them open baby. We’ll put on a show for whoever sees. I don’t give a fuck.”

The only two passengers who were on the train walked out rather quickly and with no one else entering, it was just you and this villain inside. You couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or bad but at least the risk of him hurting someone else isn’t looming over your head. Instead of taking this moment to escape you threw your arms up gripping Bakugo by the neck. Might as well and try to get this over with. Sooner this ends, the sooner you get go home and bleach your skin clean and pray for forgiveness to whichever god decides to listen. This action did indeed catch him slightly by surprise but he stopped fingering you momentarily and ripped your shirt off revealing your bra to him. He quickly gripped both of your breasts massaging them in his hand.

“Turn around.” He huskily said into your ear. Already lost in the sensation of how good he was making you feel, you quickly got off him to then get back on straggling him. You were now back on him facing him with your cunt completely exposed, skirt crumbled up to your waist, and your breasts directly in his face. He was smirking down on you. He gripped the center of your bra and activated his quirk leaving the bra in shreds.

“Any idea how long I’ve been wanting to fuck this pretty little body of yours?” He gripped your neck, choking you slightly while his mouth made his way to your nipple. “Way too fucking long. Gonna devour your little cunt. Gonna make you pay for all the trouble you’ve been causing me.” His hand left your throat and began squeezing and pinching your nipple. The action causing a moan to rip out of you. “Fucking bitch, you’ve been such a distraction.” You were gripping and pulling his hair now while grinding furiously against his crouch in a desperate attempt to feel some type of friction. “Bakugo-“

“Katsuki,” he corrected, “we’ve been past the formalities for a while now”

You blushed, you rarely call anyone by their first name but Bakugo could be the exception. Besides it’s not like he wasn’t fingering your pussy like a jackhammer on a public train 5 minutes ago, not like you were grinding on him like a desperate dog in heat right now...

“Suki,” you said hoping the cute pet name would be enough to grab his attention, you attempted to sound as desperate and needy as possible, “please make me cum already.” You pleaded while placing your hands on his shoulders. Makeup smudged from the tears and sweat, lipstick smeared on your chin from him covering it, clothes all ruined and your hair a mess, you already looked so fucked out, Bakugo just ate the sight up. He had his hands gripping the side of your hips caressing them. You leaned in wanting a kiss until he quickly gripped your face squeezing your cheeks together preventing it so. “On your knees baby.”

While still squeezing your face you slowly get off his lap on your knees in between his legs.

“Open your mouth and show me your tongue.” He released his tight grip but kept his hand in place, you opened your mouth and slowly stuck out your tongue. He gave a devious smirk, in which you saw something enlighten in his eyes. The bright red color seeming more mahogany now. He leans in lining his mouth above yours and spits on your tongue. He nods his head allowing you to swallow, which you complied easily to. You now waited patiently for his next orders, your full submissive side completely taking over, not like you have much of a choice anyways. Regardless, the desire to please him and the desperation from under is consuming your every thought and sensation.

“Go on slut, suck daddy’s cock.” He leans into the seat with his legs fully spread to you. You slowly unzip his pants with shaking hands allowing his dick to spring free. You nearly drooled at the sight wanting to taste him badly. He was completely erect, a huge vain running down the base of his cock, the tip already covered in precum looking swollen and red. You lean in his dick using your hands to pump him, you slowly bought the tip towards your mouth giving it small kitten like licks. As you began sucking the villain in front of you, he lets out small grunts and groans throughout. He eventually pulls your hair and shoves his dick entirely in your mouth forcing itself to hit the back of your throat. 10 seconds pass by and he hasn’t removed his hand, 11, 12… your eyes begin watering and you’re desperately attempting to get fresh air. You begin pulling away only for Katsuki to laugh and hold you down tighter. “Aha’ha choking on my dick detective? Such a cock hungry whore… this outa teach you a lesson, maybe I’ll get some hand cuffs late-later on and treat you like you really deserve, yea-yeah. That sounds soo good.”

While Bakugo goes back and forth with himself, you begin getting red faced and losing consciousness he pulls your hair up forcing you off and you while you take this opportunity to weed in gaps of air desperately and choking, he quickly shoves himself back inside your mouth. This time he moved your head in up/down motions, you attempted your best to slurp and suck with minimal oxygen entering your system, but it was proven to be very difficult, luckily enough you notice the villain becoming slower and sloppier with his movements. You brought yourself to deep throat his cock once more until the warm liquid has finally entered your mouth. The taste sour and sticky inside, this is what sin must taste like you thought.

As on cue, the metro did a halt and you instantly recognized the location. You gave a side eye to the villain next to you who also knew this was the stop to your neighborhood. He self confidently got up and immediately zipped his pants. He took off the hoodie he wore only leaving the black tank top underneath and shoved it over your head. The hoodie was long enough to cover your whole body and you were thankful since your current garments were in shreds across the floor. It also smelled strangely sweet, odd, like burnt caramel? Maybe the lack of oxygen is making you slightly delusional? You assumed, well hoped- this is where you would go separate ways with the villain. Have this memory go to the grave with you and forget it ever happened. But to your lovely surprise he picks you up bridal style and carries you out the metro. You looked at him questioningly, the feeling of dread looming over and suddenly becoming overwhelming just waiting for his response. He simply smirked.

“You’re clocking in overtime tonight detective.”

#mha smut #bakugou x reader smut #yandere katsuki #bakugo x reader smut #bnha imagines #mha bakugou #pro hero bakugou #villain bakugou #dark theme #bakugou katsuki #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #alpha katsuki #mha fanfiction

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faerune · 4 years ago

Text

the sun has come to save me

pairing: johnny silverhand x f!v [vera volakov]

summary: in the aftermath of mikoshi's destruction, johnny takes his old body for a joyride and v accepts an offer from the aldecaldos though they can't seem to shake the other's presence. johnny shows up for a drink.

warnings: smut with feelings! drinking! smoking! spoilers!

[AO3]

Johnny Silverhand is on her doorstep and boy, if her teeny bopper self could be here-

But she isn’t and Johnny barely looks at her when he shoves inside with not a hello but a “Where you keep your booze?”

They both seem to realize how redundant the question is when Johnny makes a b-line for the cabinet stocked with half-finished liquor bottles and mixers.

Vera clicks her tongue against the back of her teeth and frowns at him, shoving the door closed. She hasn’t seen him for weeks. Not since Viktor gave him the all clear. She wasn’t surprised. It seemed he was rearing to take his new...well, old body out for a spin.

Still, a text to let her know he wasn’t dead in a gutter would have been nice. She had worked damn hard to get that body back for him. She’s surprised he didn’t take it and run; get back to doing what he does best — shredding in some sleazy bar for free drinks or sniffing out any way to fuck a corp over.

Vera shifts on her bare feet, hip cocked out and her arms crossed. She bites her tongue because it’s weird how much the picture of a pissed girlfriend she must be right now.

She wanders over to where Johnny has uncorked a bottle of whiskey that’s been gathering dust in her cabinet. He pours it garishly into mismatched cups and hands her one. It’s the first time he looks at her, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“It’s like...ten in the morning,” Vera tells him, motioning toward the window aglow with sunlight.

“Like you give a shit,” he counters.

Vera ponders that for a moment and then shrugs, throwing the glass back. The whiskey burns her throat and she makes a disgusted noise, a little shiver shaking through her. Vera has never liked whiskey and regretfully his tolerance for it was not something they shared now. She catches Johnny’s crooked teasing smile before he takes the cup and bottle, swaggering over to her couch.

She wonders if he has noticed that — that they have bled into each other like ink on a soaked page. It is no coincidence that Vera has suddenly developed the ability to write with her left hand. And gained an affinity for shitty 2020s alternative rock.

Vera doesn’t bring her cup with her but follows him and sinks onto the couch with him, folding her long legs underneath her.

“So, where have you been?”

Johnny leans against the back of the couch, long silver arm stretching over the back and mirrors her so their bodies are turned towards each other. He takes a thoughtful sip and Vera fights the urge to roll her eyes. Always one for the dramatics. Though, it’s not like she can judge. Her annoyance with him has simpered to a warm, idle irritation. Something born more out of habit and unfortunate fondness for the asshole.

“Explorin’ the city. Seein’ what’s changed-” he begins. He points at her. “On my own terms. You were a good tour guide, V but-

“So…getting fucked up,” Vera continues with a wry smile.

Johnny laughs and sets his drink down, “Little bit of that too.”

“Why are you here, Johnny?” she finds herself asking, resting her cheek on her fist.

“Realized we never celebrated,” he tells her, relaxing back with a satisfied grunt and aims his eyes at her. “Got our bodies, our lives. Hell, I can’t figure anything better to drink to.”

“We got lucky,” Vera tells him as both a grateful praise and a truthful warning. The cautious paranoia she has adopted has nothing to do with his influence that’s for sure.

“When’d you become so pessimistic,” Johnny scoffs. “What happened to my favorite starry-eyed little merc?”

Vera avoids his eyes, stares down at a scratch in her coffee table. Her manicured nails play with the studs in her ear.

“You miss me?”

Johnny’s voice comes as a surprise, thick and sticky with emotion. When she looks up, he’s staring right at her, studying her face. Vera’s chest tightens. Maybe he does feel that itch, the unfamiliar and haunting foreignness of being alone in the silence of a room. The lingering touch of someone else on the soul.

“You wish,” she teases dryly but the tightness in her throat prevents it from packing the intended punch. Vera reaches out for the bottle because suddenly that burn seems all the more appealing. It’s easier the second time around but she still can’t help the little twist her face does. He takes the bottle from her, again without comment. This time, however, his face looks serious and inquisitive.

Instead of prodding, filling the silence with words she waits patiently. It’s a hard habit to break but she’s getting better at it.

“Fuck,” Johnny grunts, leaning forward to rub the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Feel like I’m goin’ insane.”

Vera watches him — the fall of his hair in a dark curtain around his face, the curve of his back in the black t-shirt he’s wearing. The couch dips with the shift of his weight and it hits her again like it always does. She could reach out and touch him right now.

“I keep tryin’ to talk to you,” Johnny says in disbelief. “Keep forgetting I’m not in your head anymore.”

She lets out a breath of relief.

“Me too.”

Vera’s lips curve into a tight-lipped smile, “Keep doing shit just to piss you off so you’ll talk to me.”

Johnny laughs at that. Well and truly laughs, deep in his belly. Vera isn’t sure she’s ever heard him laugh like that. It’s awfully contagious because pretty soon she is laughing with him.

“Been chewing on that fucking gum you chomp on,” Johnny tells her, snapping his ‘ganic fingers together. “Fuck what is it-”

“Cherrygasm?” Vera grins.

“Shit, yeah,” Johnny says, shaking his head and leaning back against the couch. “Get antsy if I don’t taste that teeth-rotting shit. Got me to quit smokin’ at least.”

Vera lets out an uncharacteristic snort, “Well, shit, I started.”

“Ah, V…” Johnny begins.

She gasps and clamps her hand on his shoulder, sitting up onto her knees in excitement, “Don’t tell me The Johnny Silverhand is about to lecture me on smoking right now.”

Johnny’s hand cups the back of her thigh and moves it to the other side of his waist. Vera blinks dumbly down at him, her hands held up in front of her, limp and awkward. The two stare at each other for a moment but Johnny’s chrome hand doesn’t leave her bare skin. God, he almost looks...scared shitless.

Her voice is tight and quiet when she speaks.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

Vera’s lips are on his. It’s rough, sudden and desperate as he responds in kind. A frantic kind of want starts to burn in her belly. Johnny is solid. Warm. Real. Her fingers sliding into his hair, Johnny grasping at her ass with bruising eagerness and flips her onto her back. He’s over top of her, around her.

Her thighs spread so his slim hips can settle between them. Johnny’s hand tightens around her thigh and he grinds into her through the soft fabric of her shorts. A little sound leaves her mouth that she can’t manage to swallow. He smells like shitty motel soap and his tongue tastes like fucking bubblegum just like he said. Their frantic hands both war with her shirt for a moment, pulling in every which way as they scramble to get it off.

Vera is exposed to the chill of her apartment, colorful tattoos spread over her heavy breasts, her stomach and the curves of her hips.

He is touching her, touching with long calloused fingers and chilled chrome; and is it a surprise she whines when he pinches her nipple between his silver fingers? Her head swims as it tries to grasp onto reality. Johnny’s warm mouth latches over her other breast with the kind of messy hot licks that make her squirm.

“Fuck,” she breathes, arching up into his mouth as he sucks greedily at her skin. Her breast, her collarbone, her stomach. Johnny nips at skin and soothes away the sting with a hot tongue.

Vera tugs roughly at his hair enough to make him groan deep in his chest. Is this what she has been aching for? To have him inside of her again?

“Johnny,” she huffs impatiently, losing grip on the back hem of his shirt when he shifts to lick and bite at the one of the pistols on her hips. Almost angered by the interruption, he moves up onto his knees and tears his shirt off over his head. Vera’s hands grab him, pull him back down to her. She needs to feel him. The solid weight of his body, the brush of the hair on his chest over her sensitive nipples, the ragged border of his shoulder where skin meets metal.

Johnny licks at her neck, loves roughly at her sensitive skin. Vera lets out another keen of impatience, rolling up against him as he rocks against her through their pants. Then he’s down again, trailing long tails of heat with his tongue.

She’s about to tell him to stop fucking around when he lifts her legs and yanks her shorts off in a swift motion.

“Fuck,” he groans, only giving himself a breath to gaze over her before tossing her legs over his shoulders. A happy purr of pride burns through her chest at that. Johnny buries himself between her thighs. Vera’s hand reaches overhead and grabs the edge of a velvet cushion as he covers her with his mouth and laps eagerly at her.

A moan, a breath-

She presses him between her legs with a hand on the back of his head, tangling again in the silk strands of black hair. Her body shudders, heat having hit her like a truck, burning through her body. Johnny’s tongue drags the small amount of wetness that has gathered at her opening and licks it all over her cunt. His hands grab her hips and yanks her closer to him, her ass lifted a little into his arms.

He lets her hips rock up against his tongue desperately but his clenched fist on her thigh that will surely bruise tells her that he normally does not allow this. Blinding pleasure aches through her all the way to her fingertips. Pretty moans and gasped whimpers offered to the room. It drowns out the news reporter babbling away on the radio.

Vera’s concerns and thoughts of past, future and present have been lost to her frantic train of thought.. It is only the two of them again. It is only Johnny between her legs flicking his talented tongue over her and pressing two warm fingers inside. Vera lets out a breathless, broken moan and bears down on them, her knuckles white as she grasps at the cushions and his hair in an effort to ground herself.

She wants to be filled, wants him, wants more, more, more.

Her chest is tight, her body is crying for it, begging for him and-

Vera’s lips only manage the first syllable of his name as her release crashes through her like a booming stroke of thunder. She moans loudly to the ceiling, her ankles locking together between Johnny’s shoulder blades. This is when he presses her down, holds her to the Earth, while she keens and groans deep in her chest for him.

Johnny doesn’t wait till she’s finished before prying her thighs away from his head and scrambling to settle above her. Her mind is a pleasured daze as he shoves his pants down his hips just enough to pull himself from the tight pleather. It’s good he doesn’t wait because he’s big when he slides into her, her cunt giving way to him in one stroke with how slick she is. Johnny lavishes his tongue over her ear, his breath hot and his hands greedy, touching and grabbing at any part of her he can reach.

Vera wraps herself around him — legs hitched up around his waist, arms around his middle. It feels as if she can’t seem to get her breath back but it’s alright because Johnny’s got her, fuck he’s got her in his arms and he’s inside her. She buries her face into his neck and thinks about how much she doesn’t want to let go of him. Vera cannot let go of anyone. Cannot give up. How many times has he called her stubborn?

Johnny grinds into her; stretches her and licks at her collarbone to smooth the dull sting inside of her. It’s been a long time for her and maybe he remembers that. Memories of hers she didn’t keep too well guarded— far too preoccupied with other parts of her psyche she didn’t want anyone to touch.

He grunts into her skin, bruising grip still on her hip and starts to fuck her hard. He stays seated within her, content not to draw himself out of her tightness. Johnny’s thrusts are hard and quick and shallow, leaving her breathless. Vera concludes that if he stops and leaves her aching and empty she would shatter.

Johnny starts groaning and huffing, breathing V and then Vera and then baby and it could be the force of his pace but she swears she feels him shaking in her arms.

He tightens, stills and grunts a slur of profanities against her neck before he relaxes against her.

Vera starts to chase her breath, staring at the cracks in her ceiling while his weight settles on top of her. It is quiet except for their breaths and the continued drone of the radio. Vera tries to latch onto the words but she can’t seem to make sense of them at the moment, heart pounding in her ears. The two of them, sticky chests pressed together and breathing in an awkward, frantic tandem. Her fingers slide up over his shoulders and back into his hair, his breath hot and wet as it beats against her neck.

Johnny doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon but she still keeps her arms around him, even if her legs have fallen back apart like jelly noodles.

When he finally picks his head up, her breathing has returned to normal. The edges of his hair are damp with sweat when she combs it from his face.

“You good?” Johnny asks her. She isn’t looking in his eyes, a burn of intimacy blooming in her chest that is hard to bear.

“Yeah,” Vera nods and aches when they disentangle themselves from each other. Vera reaches down and snatches up his t-shirt, tugging it on to cover herself. Johnny instead kicks his pants off the rest of the way and sprawls naked on her couch. There is a long and tender moment of silence between them, Johnny watching her curl her legs under her, tucking herself into the curved corner of the couch.

She reaches over the back to grab her half-empty box of smokes. Vera holds her lighter in her shaking hands and lights it with just a bit of difficulty. The burning drag feels good, settles the nerves that are bounding in her body; heart still pounding under his gaze.

Satisfaction. A heart-rending something she still does not want to name and thinks she might not have to. Loneliness, an empty ache with him so far away — though it may just be a foot or two in reality. Guilt too.

“I’m leaving.”

“Fuck, I know it wasn’t bad,” Johnny jokes and smirks lazily. It falls when she doesn’t chide him or smile back at him. Vera takes another shaky drag.

“Joining the Aldecaldos when they leave for Arizona. We leave in two days.”

Vera is an expert now in catching the quick strike of hurt in his features. No matter the words he slings at her she can see it and that fucking scares him. Vera knows because it scares the shit out of her too.

“Spit it out,” Vera huffs in irritation, anxiously flicking the ashes from the cig.

“You’re fuckin’ with me,” he scoffs with a shake of his head, “Why in the fuck would you wanna live the rest of your life with tarmac rats, eatin’ sand and-”

“It’s my fucking life, Johnny,” Vera snaps angrily, forcefully flicking more embers into the ashtray she pulled into her lap. “Finally. Just mine.”

Vera laughs breathlessly and shakes her head in disbelief.

“This city ate us alive. We are lucky to even be sitting here,” Vera tells him forcefully, her finger raised in accusation.

“Be fucking smarter next time then. You’re really going to give up? Let all of them-”

“All of who?!” Vera exclaims. “Arasaka? Millitech? Petrochem? NCPD?”

She stands, almost stumbling in her anger. The ashtray clatters onto the table. Johnny sits back and glares at her, watching her body curl in fury.

“Never thought you’d be a fucking pussy, V,” he snarls, yanking his pants back on when he stands.

“Aren’t you tired of fighting?” V breathes, staring up at him. There is a softness to her body, her voice — not of defeat but of exhaustion. “Johnny, this city takes . That’s all it does. It gives nothing. It took you. It took me. It took-”

Jackie. Evelyn. Her mother-

Vera leans over, blowing a column of smoke from the corner of her mouth and stubs out the cigarette.

“For some fucking reason we have another chance. I’m not going to waste it throwing my bloody corpse against a fucking wall like every promise this city makes isn’t a fucking lie .”

Johnny’s jaw is tight but he doesn’t speak. It’s how Vera knows there are no more walls he can throw up.

“A new start. It’s more than any dirtgirl from Heywood could ask for,” Vera tells him.

“Okay,” he tells her with a shrug.

“Okay?”

“Both know you won’t listen to me anyway,” Johnny grunts, arms crossing over his chest. A flippant flick of his hand. Still, there is something in his resolution. Something bittersweet and maudlin. Her body swims with the same ache.

She kisses him again, softer this time, arms threading around his waist. It isn’t long before Johnny lifts her into his arms.

Vera’s apartment is darkened save for the warm glow of a lamp and the ever-present neon flicker outside her window. One of her neighbors is playing some music that booms through the walls, into her stomach. A bright green and yellow light dances over Johnny’s face, cuts sharp lines into his cheeks. She refuses to let him take a drag of her cigarette, the pair of them tangled in sweaty sheets on her bed.

Vera leans her cheek against the side of his chest, staring up at the ceiling. He has an arm looped around her and she can’t resist playing idly running her thumb over each of his fingers.

“Panam and I are going to say goodbye to the city. Sunset on that bridge in Westbrook. Two days.”

They both know why she’s mentioning it.

The silent dark of the apartment swallows their silence.

Two days later, Vera is bathed in sunset glow as she says her farewells to the city skyline. A tangle of emotions ache in her chest but the heaviness is peeling from her shoulders like a bad sunburn. Panam had told her to take a long look. She left Vera with a reassuring touch on the shoulder and an understanding Vera had only found a handful of times before.

Johnny had left her apartment that morning after without waking her. Neither of them were really equipped for goodbyes anyway. How did you say goodbye to someone who knew you like that? Vera felt untethered, light and bittersweet. Despite herself, when she closed her eyes she could still feel the ache of tears pressing forth. A few fell freely, quickly swept away by a manicured finger.

So lost in fighting back the well of emotion in her chest, Vera doesn’t hear the car until it comes roaring around the last curve in the hills. The tarmac waves with heat, the shiny silver metal reflecting sunrays into her eyes. She squints against the brightness and eyes the red racing stripe that cuts across the back half of the car.

It rumbles to a stop at the curb. Too far away, Vera decides, pushing off the half-wall she had leaned her height against. She is already taking long strides — that might have been a jog if her legs were shorter — when the driver ducks out of the car and loops around to the hood.

“Just so you know,” Johnny begins, arms crossed, leaning back against his Porsche. “I get sand in my asscrack once and I’m leaving-”

“Johnny,” Vera huffs, pulling him down for a hard, messy kiss once she reaches him. An arm loops loosely around her waist, tugging her closer. Against his lips, she lets out a satisfied sigh, a beautiful, peaceful smile gracing her features in sharp contrast to the annoyed, fond tone that leaves her lips. “Stop talking.”

Johnny smirks lazily and straightens with a grunt.

“Know I can’t do that V.”

#johnny silverhand #johnny x v #johnny silverhand x v #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #emily! stop using em dashes! enough!#:) no #writing*#ship: you're in my veins #i can't believe i actually wrote like at least....something sort of productive #i'd say read this on ao3 it's long and i haven't checked the formatting of it on tumblr i just wanna post

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

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Fanny Pack Sexiness (Nessian Smut)

Prompt: *sensually unclips fanny pack* this is weird, i know. but i just saw a tweet and i thought if anyone could write this, it would be you.

Laughed so hard when I read this. If this isn’t Nessian, I don’t know what is. NSFW warning because I do love a fanny pack moment ;)

_________________________________________________________

Nesta glared out the window, keeping her unspoken vow to not look over at the atrocity that was her boyfriend.

Well, that wasn’t not fair.

The boyfriend himself was actually pretty nice to look at.

Broad shoulders, a tall frame filled with meaty muscle, curly brown hair, and golden eyes made him interesting enough, she supposed.

But it was what the bastard had chosen to wear that had driven her insane all day.

The monstrosity was strapped around his waist currently, and she could’ve sworn it was laughing up at her.

Consider this the first and last time she would ever travel with him.

Because since it wasn’t obvious enough they were American, Cassian had chosen to wear a fanny pack. Over an I <3 LONDON shirt. Which he’d paired with khakis.

He looked like the cover of a tourist’s guide made for forty year-old, single men who lived with their mothers.

And she knew it was at least partly her fault he was dressed so stupidly, but she refused to apologize.

Last night, they’d been heading out to dinner, when she commented that almost always, he wore all black. Honestly, it wasn’t even a complaint, considering she was guilty of the same thing.

Why bother trying to put together prints and fabrics and colors, when black looked so nice on her?

Anyway. She hadn’t been complaining. Teasing, but not complaining.

But noooo. He’d immediately gotten that annoying, competitive look in his eyes that both made her smile and want to strangle him.

“What would you like me to wear, Nesta?” he’d asked, golden eyes practically glowing.

She’d sighed, probably making things worse. “I’m just saying, we look a little goth when we’re together.”

Cassian had just smiled down at her, then walked out of their room. She hadn’t thought any more of it when he’d slipped back in later that night, but then this morning, when he’d gotten dressed in the bathroom and opened the door with a flourish, she’d almost hit the floor.

He was not built for fanny packs and khakis.

He was built for... well, he was built to be naked all the time, but since that would probably get them sent back to the states, tight black shirts and jeans was a decent second option.

Plus, as if it weren’t bad enough already, he’d been adding to the ensemble all day, building up to the horrendous outfit she was currently avoiding looking at.

His faded combat boots had been replaced with flip flops. His hair was tucked under a very large hat with a Big Ben outline across the front. He’d even stopped to buy a fucking old-fashioned pipe from the William Blake exhibit they’d gone to see.

He was trying to drive her crazy.

But little did he know, she had a few tricks up her sleeve. After three years together, she knew how to drive him crazy, too.

So she’d plotted and schemed all day. And as they rode back to their hotel in the cab, it was finally time for it to come into play.

Trying to be discrete, she nodded at the driver.

Cassian’s eyes shot to her as the man slammed on the brakes. It had costed her twenty Euros, but seeing the look of shock on her boyfriend’s face was so worth it.

Especially as she shouted, “Drive him to the other side of the city and kick him out!”

And jumped from the cab.

It was still moving a little, but she’d been prepared and hit the ground at a run.

Manic laughter came out of her as Cassian turned around in the now-speeding cab, shouting something unintelligible back at her.

He wanted to dress like a tacky tourist and drive her crazy?

Fine.

She’d just have to show him what he was missing out on.

A little over an hour later, the door to their hotel room swung open, hitting the wall angrily.

“That asshole took me halfway to fucking Essex, then had the audacity to charge me for the ride. Next time you have someone kidnap me, at least pay the fee, woman! I swear-”

Whatever he was about to say lodged in his throat as he took a look at what she was wearing.

It was all new, and his eyes took in every piece of the wardrobe with a predatory gleam that sent her toes curling. But she acted unaffected, even as she bent down to fix the strap of her very high, very uncomfortable shoes.

“What’s going on?” he asked, voice rough.

Straightening, she shrugged and fluffed her hair. “I’m going to dinner.”

“You mean we’re going to dinner.”

Finally.

Nesta turned towards her boyfriend, enjoying the way his eyes dipped to the almost indecent amount of cleavage on display.

She traced her eyes over his entire rumpled, touristy outfit. “I’m not going in public with you while I look like this and you look like that.”

His eyes narrowed as he finally caught on to what she’d done. “I’ll change then.”

It was a struggle not to laugh. “Well, you seemed so intent on replacing your wardrobe, I figured I’d help you out and dumped your suitcase.”

That was a lie. It was safely hidden down at the front desk.

“You did what?”

Ignoring the question, she said, “You’re welcome. And since you can neither change nor go like that, I guess I’ll just see you later.”

Making her way to the door, she was abruptly stopped by a hand smacking into the wall closest to her, an arm now blocking her path. “Nesta Archeron, you are not going out looking like a goddamn supermodel while I sit here with my thumbs up my ass.”

“How you fill the alone time is irrelevant to me, Cassian.”

His other hand made its way to the wall, too, caging her in.

“I know you wouldn’t throw my clothes out. Where are they? Tell me, and we’ll go to dinner.”

She shrugged, resolve to keep the secret building by the second.

She was aware they were both a little competitive, but she didn’t care. She was winning this, one way or the other. He’d admit he’d been wrong to dress like an idiot today, then--and only then--she’d give him his clothes back.

“I know what you’re doing,” he told her, the tone of his voice proving that it was working.

He was suddenly so close she couldn’t think about anything else.

Even dressed in head to toe tacky, he somehow managed to suck all the air out of her lungs.

One hand turned his hat backwards so the brim wouldn’t poke her, and he leaned in close enough to run his nose down her neck.

“Tell me, Nesta.”

“No.”

His teeth nipped at her skin, and she shivered. “Do I need to fuck it out of you?”

Gods, yes. Please.

That hadn’t been her plan at all, but her body was more than on board with it.

Except there was a bit of a problem.

“You are not fucking me with a fanny pack on, hate to break it to you.”

Cassian pulled back far enough to wink at her, then his mouth was on hers, dominating her in the way that she’d only ever let him do. He pressed her against the wall, chest tight against hers, as he slipped his tongue in her mouth.

Hands on her waist lifted her, and then she was being thrown halfway across the room onto the neatly-made bed.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she glared over at him.

“I was being serious, Cassian. You’re not getting any while you’re dressed like Uncle Sam.”

He swaggered over to the foot of the bed, the comment not at all impacting his confidence.

“Allow me to remedy the problem then, princess.”

The hat’s the first to go, and it was a relief to see his unruly hair finally free. She heard the slap of his flip flops on the floor and figured he kicked them off, too. Cassian tugged the horrible, bright yellow “I <3 LONDON” shirt over his head, then stared at her, eyes narrowed.

“I’m keeping the fanny pack.”

It was adorable how wrong he was.

Raising an eyebrow, Nesta leaned back and let her thighs fall open, keying him into the fact that she’d somehow forgotten to put on underwear tonight.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move to take off the damn pack.

So she ran a manicured nail over her bottom lip, then slipped it in her mouth and sucked on it. She was pretty sure Cassian was about to pass out as she released it with a pop, then brought it between her legs.

“Nesta.”

“Hmm?” she responded, the sound drawn out and breathy as she pushed the finger inside herself.

“I like the fanny pack.” He sounded so sad, it was almost comical. Like a kid on Christmas who’d just been told Santa hadn’t come.

Too bad.

“Then stand there and watch.”

Oh, he did. His eyes were intent on her hands, both the one between her legs and the other that made it’s way to her breast.

She rolled a nipple between her fingers and groaned, and he leaned down to fist the sheets at the end of the bed in his hands. “Fuck.”

Nesta refused to give first. Absolutely refused.

And she knew what it would take for him to give in. So she added another finger, back arching off the bed, and worked herself until she was so close she couldn’t stay still.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the comforter tight enough to threaten the strands, but it wasn’t that that forced him to lose their little battle.

It was the sight of her coming undone before him.

She moaned, and it might’ve been his name that fell from her lips, as release found her. When she heard the strangled, creative curse he let out, she knew she’d won.

Forcing her eyes open, she watched as he finally unhooked the fanny pack and let it drop to the floor.

It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

Cassian quickly kicked off his hideous khakis, then prowled up her body, dropping little love bights on her thighs, her hips, her breasts.

“That was so hot,” he groaned as he settled between her thighs, bracing himself on his elbows.

“That was the idea, idiot.”

He stopped for a moment, pulling back to give her a sour look. “I think I’m going to make you apologize for that.”

Before she could tell him there was a fat chance of that happening, he pushed into her. Nesta gasped, and his mouth was suddenly on hers, absorbing the sound.

After a brief moment to adjust, his hips grew rough against hers, the grip he had on them almost bruising, but she didn’t care.

“Fuck, Cass,” she groaned, arching into his touch as he drew little circles on the bundle of nerves between her legs.

He picked up speed, pounding into her so hard she started shifting up the bed until he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, keeping her in place.

Release started building up in her, and she could tell it would be almost too intense when it crested. But just before she got to find out, he slowed his rhythm, swirling his hips slowly against hers.

An indignant, hateful sound left her mouth, and he pulled back enough to smirk down at her.

“Say it,” he commanded, eyes like molten caramel as they watched her hips try to gain more friction. “Say you’re sorry, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Fuck you,” she panted, barely resisting the urge to punch him. “You insufferable, arrogant bastard.”

“Not exactly what I want to hear, but close.”

A maddeningly slow circle of his hips had her regretting ever going out with him.

Another had her planning his murder.

Yet another had her cursing the day he was born.

“Say it, Nesta. You know you want to.” He dipped his head to kiss the base of her throat.

Her body was so strung out it was a miracle she didn’t burst into tears, but she somehow managed to hold off for another few minutes.

But then he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head and all but growled, “Just fucking say it. Say it so I can fuck you like you deserve.”

And she was just desperate enough that she said, “I’m sorry I called you an idiot, you horrible asshole.”

He smiled down at her, and she glared. “Such beautiful words.”

“Cassian, I swear-”

The words became lost in her throat as he finally, finally started moving again, somehow harder and quicker than before.

Release immediately crashed into her, and she moaned as she drew tight around him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and even though she currently hated him, the words just made the release that much sweeter.

Especially as he didn’t stop. Her body was trembling underneath his, but he kept going, even dipping his head to kiss his way down to her breasts.

His tongue swirled around the peak of one, and she groaned loudly as the wave inside her seemed to crash once more, leaving her scattered and broken in the aftermath.

Cassian finally followed her lead, collapsing on top of her and pressing her into the mattress below as he said her name in a helpless, loving sort of way.

Their breath was uncontrolled and loud, and it took a few minutes before either of them could speak.

Then he asked roughly, “Now, where’d you hide my shit?”

“Front desk,” she panted, pushing her hair off her forehead with a tired hand.

He drew back, looking over her partially-clothed body in a satisfied, male way that made her smile. “I really like that dress, in case it isn’t obvious. Want me to go change so we can eat something?”

Before she could respond, his mouth was at her ear, hot breath raising goosebumps across her skin. “Or do you just want to eat here?”

Suddenly, food was the last thing on her mind.

Her hands found their way to his hair as she drew him back down to her.

“Just get it tomorrow,” she murmured, lips finding his again. “And never wear that fanny pack again.”

_________________________________________________________

Like I said, I had WAY too much fun writing this hahaha. Kinda really loosely based on when Joey (Friends) went to London and dressed like a tourist :)

Tags: @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @highqueenofelfhame @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian x nesta #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #nesta x cassian #nesta x cassian fanfiction

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flying-elliska · 4 years ago

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another thing that makes me insane is the possibility of getting to actually see at some point seeing on screen Jesper getting close to Van Eck to whisper 'I can read to him' - because ???? First of all that moment is already incredible, but something about this Jesper we've seen now in a 'prequel situation' makes me even more hype about it

because they've just given us a lot more moments with him (in Six of Crows one of my rare complaints is that we don't see enough of him) and they've made him extra swagger-y and badass, but also very clearly caring - just look at him with Inej !!!!!! "of course love" - Sweetheart !!!! that is just a great mix because a lot of these cool adventurer types in fiction often end up also unfortunately being these blasé macho douchebags and he's like the opposite of that !!!

and anyway, that scene in Crooked Kingdom in the church is kind of the epitome of that because it takes a massive amounts of guts to basically whisper to Van Eck exactly how they're going to screw him over right in the middle of their con, but he also does that by showing what a caring, considerate and accepting potential-boyfriend he is, that he can help Wylan so that the thing that has been hindering him all his life doesn't become a problem anymore because !!! love !!!! understanding !!! and it makes me extra emo because we also know that Jesper feels adrift under that carefree composure, that he's running from his responsibilities and probably feels like a huge disappointment to the people he loves ("boys, girls, games, you always lose") so the fact that he just steps up and says 'hell yeah i have what it takes to be a supportive partner!!!!' and the fact that we're going to see him going through all that !!!!!! hopefully !!

idk really what my point is lol Jesper is one of my favorite characters ever and I am really glad all the people involved in making the show clearly seem to agree and I really hope they're going to do him justice, also with his more difficult and dark sides. Like in this season he's mostly the comic relief BUT he's already clearly so much more than that, and honestly getting a portrayal that seems to GET it so well on top of a character who is already awesome is just like, fan Christmas. Kit Young plays him with such a cool mix of nonchalance and warmth and gusto and sometimes these little hints of world weary sadness, it's just so much fun and I can't wait to see him tackle more meaty emotional scenes and to build more layers

just. Jesper !!!!!!!!!!!!!

#shadow and bone #kit young #jesper fahey #six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #shadow and bone netflix

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unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

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I Knew You Were Trouble

I got really inspired today. This is another crossover fic. It’s actually with one of my all-time favorite childhood movies. Can you guess the crossover before the end?

Marinette knew he was trouble the second he walked in.

Like there was nothing Marinette was surer about than the fact that she was in some serious trouble.

Not school trouble. Not friend trouble. Not boy trouble. Not bully trouble.

No. The trouble that resulted in Marinette’s parents attending her funeral.

“Care to introduce yourself,” Bustier smiled at her newest student.

The boy gave the class a polite smile, “Kal.”

Marinette swallowed hard as she fought the urge to run from the classroom; run, call her grandmother, never look back. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Her Aunt Aggie had always told her to be brave when faced when the forces of evil.

She wouldn’t run from the likes of Kal.

Marinette just had one question.

How was he here? How was he alive? How did he look exactly the same now as he did in the pictures from twenty years ago?

Her cousin had destroyed him, like she did his father. In the battle of light versus darkness; good versus evil, Good won. Light won. Kal had been sucked into an endless void, dead, never to be seen or heard from again.

…Until today.

The handsome dark haired boy looked around the class with clear distaste. He wore a shirt and black pants. He eyed the students, with a bored expression on his face. The girls swooned when he smirked there way. Marinette kept her face black as his eyes looked over her; doing her best not to draw attention to herself.

Then the oddest thing happen; Kal didn’t blink twice at Marinette. He barely looked like he knew she was in the room. That didn’t mean much to Marinette. The bluenette practically radiated magic some days. He’d figure her out in no time. No, Marinette couldn’t play defense with the likes of Kal. Offense only.

Bustier directed him to the back of the class, to the only empty seat available… Next to Marinette. And once again, the bluenette cursed her rotten luck. However, her heart was filled with hope with Lila got involved.

“Maybe Kal can seat next to me,” Lila said. “There’s enough room with me and Adrien. I know what it’s like to be new. I can help you.”

Kal rolled his eyes, “I’m good. But thank you.” And swaggered to the seat in back. As he sat down, he winked at Marinette. Marinette smiled brightly at him like she would at nearly anyone. Though to do so, she had to stab herself in the leg with a pen to stop herself from stabbing him.

The class started. Bustier began teaching her lesson unaware of the drama that was just about to happen in her class.

“Must be my lucky day,” He leaned in and whispered to her. “I get to sit next to the prettiest girl in school.”

Marinette kept the smile on her face, as to not draw any attention their way, though not it felt more like baring her teeth, the same way some animals did when they attacked. “How’s your father?” Marinette whispered back. “Kalabar, wasn’t it?”

Kal’s black eyes widened in shock before settled on a pleased expression. “A witch,” He stated. “Good. I’d thought I’d end up killing myself stuck around mortals.”

“They’re not that bad,” Marinette was quick to defend. Her mother was mortal after all. “Mortals that is. The kids in this class,” Most of which were now her ex-friends. “Kind of suck. Why are you here?”

“They suck,” Kal chuckled. “And yet you’re here. A long way from...” He seemed to remember where they were as he cast a quick look around and his voice lowered, “Our native land.”

Marinette pretended to flip through the pages of her textbook. “You’re a long way from the dark pit in hell you crawled out of,” She hissed. “Planning on taking over the world again? Because I have no problem kicking you right back there.”

Kal snorted. “Such righteous fury. You remind me of…” The amused looked turned into a glare. “Cromwell?”

Marinette giggled and nodded, “Marnie’s my cousin.”

Rage overtook Kal’s face. All the lights in the classroom suddenly exploded. Shadows grew stronger as Kal’s magic was unleashed, and seemed to overtake half of the class room. The only light came from the sunlight behind Marinette, and radiated from the bluenette as she let her magic rise in all its glory.

And once again, the darkness of a son of Kalabar and the light of a daughter of Cromwell battled against other.

The kids panicked.

“Everyone remain calm,” Bustier said. “If there is an akuma we’ll be alerted. Ladybug will take care of it. Everything will be fine.”

“Akuma?” Kal asked, his eyes still trained on the Bluenette, with a raised eyebrow.

Marinette shrugged, “Welcome to Paris.”

Then he smiled at her; really, honestly smiled. It was the most mesmerizing sight. And she forgot. For one second, she forgot the evil that she was always warned lurked in the heart of a Kalabar.

But now she understood why her cousin had fallen so hard for him when she was a teenager. Marnie hadn’t just been a foolish, naïve teenager head over heels for some guy she just met. No, there was more to it. There was something alluring about the way Kal held himself, the aura he projected; the way his magic sang to hers.

Marinette just wondered one thing…

Why does the devil look so much like an angel when he smiles as you?

The class went by quickly. Witch and warlock feigned relaxation, while going over every spell they had ever learned in their heads.

When the bell rang, Marinette was gone. She flew out the door as fast as her feet could take her. She couldn’t go home, she knew; not yet. So instead, she headed to the library. In the far back where they put all the outdated computers.

She sat down on the top of an old table and tried to catch her breath. Then out of the shadows, literally, walked Kal. He shook his head at her, “Don’t you know?” He asked the Cromwell witch. “No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.”

Marinette crossed her arms, “And yet all the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.”

Kal raised in hands in surrender, “I don’t mean you any harm.”

“That sounds like a lie.”

“I’m serious,” The dark haired teen stated. “You can tell. I know you can. It’s a Cromwell gift. You can always tell when someone is lying. Listen to me carefully. I, Kal, son of Kalabar do not mean you any harm. I was not aware you went to this school. I was not aware any witch of the Cromwell bloodline was in France. Okay?”

Marinette wanted to stomp her foot in protest. He was telling the truth. “Why are you even? Why do you look like that? Aren’t you like in your late thirties?”

“I should be,” Kal frowned, “I should be thirty-five. I should be a graduate of Witch University. I should be back home, in the family mansion, with a family of my own. Or about to start one. I should be an adult, living a life of my own. Do you want to know why I’m not?”

“Why?”

Kal sat on top of the table across from Marinette, “Because after the fight with Marnie was sent somewhere; in a prison the forces of light and dark had created during our battle. I was stuck in a place outside of space and time. Outside of reality. That existed everywhere and nowhere. An endless void. Every world and realm I went to was frozen on the moment I was sent there. Just after midnight on Halloween night. And it never changed. The clocks never ticked, not once. The sun never rose or set. The moon was never full or new; just a crescent in the sky. The flowers never bloomed. There was nothing and no one but me; wandering from empty town to empty town. I never knew how much time had passed. Sometimes it felt like an eternity had gone by, sometimes just a few minutes. It didn’t matter one way or another; I never aged. The tricky party was not going completely insane. And I spent a lot of time wondering I had or not. If I deserved this what I did, for the people I hurt.”

Marinette remained silent as he talked; truth ringing in his words.

“I read every book in the Witch University library,” Kal continued. “I read every book in the Oxford University library. Half to keep myself from going crazy, half to try to figure out a way home. I never did. Some things just don’t make sense. Like a bunch of Cromwells being powerful enough to break the barrier between our world and mortal realm.” He laughed a bit there. “Then one day, the entire world shook, literally. And then I’m falling, and the next thing I know I’m landing in the middle of your Agatha Cromwell’s kitchen. She looked exactly the same too so I think I hadn’t been gone that long. Then she tells me with this pitying look on her face; twenty had gone by.”

Kal closed his eyes as anger coursed through his veins. He clenched his fists. “Twenty years. I had been gone for twenty years. In twenty years, do you even know can happen? You were born. You grew up. You are the exact age I was when I left. And still you are younger than the amount of time I was there. When you said you were a Cromwell; for five seconds I thought you were Marnie’s daughter. Because that’s how long it’s been. Both realms have changed and left me behind. My friends are all grown up; they have kids and lives and stories. My mother passed away while I was gone. I don’t recognize my own home; the place I was born, raised, lived, laughed, and loved. And that same place doesn’t recognize me either. Saint Agatha Cromwell took mercy on me and sent me here. You were right, I did crawl out of hell.”

It went quiet. Neither knowing entirely what to say. She couldn’t believe her aunt didn’t warn her she was sending a Kalabar her way. Oh, she was so telling her grandma.

Marinette broke first. “You didn’t deserve that,” She said. “Sure, you turned everyone in your world into human. And everyone here into monsters but no one hurt. Most don’t even remember. You didn’t deserve an eternity of nothingness. Prison, yes. But not that. You were just a kid. You’re just a kid.” Like me, she didn’t answered.

He nodded stiffly.

“If it means anything…” She said. “Marnie still swears you were the toughest villain she ever fought. And she took down a guy who tried to steal her family magic, hired a witch killing knight, and tried to destroy the doorway between the worlds forever.”

Kal blinked, a bit stunned, “That’s a compliment if I ever heard one.”

Marinette giggled. He smiled. And once more, Marinette fought not to look away. She was a Cromwell witch. She would not go weak in the knees over a Kalabar. “Let’s just agree to stay away from each other.”

He got off the desk, letting the darkness of his magic flair up, and he leaned toward her, “I don’t make deals with Cromwells,” He whispered. Marinette’s breath caught in her throat. “So why don’t you be a good little witch and stay off my bad side.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Marinette whispered. “This is my city.”

“Then prepare to see it burn.”

Marinette couldn’t stop the giggle that came from her. “You’ve already had time to catch up on Batman movies?”

Kal grinned, “That was the first thing I did.” He smirked. “I think you and I could have a lot of fun, Marinette. Teach the mortals a thing or two. I’ve been here less than a day and I already want to turn half the class into toads. Specifically that Lila girl.”

“Yeah,” Marinette shrugged. “That feeling never quite goes away.” It gotten worse, if anything. Her friends had all turned against her; fell one by one to Lila’s lies. “But I’m a big witch. I can handle them myself.”

Kal stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Yet you haven’t. And I don’t think you want to. Even though every part of you screams you should.”

Marinette shook her head, “We’ve evolved past that.”

Kal shrugged, “If you ever change your mind…” He moved to leave but then turned back around, a rose was in his hand, “Or maybe I really did inherit my father's attraction to Cromwell witches.” He gave her the rose.

Marinette took it, a small smile on her face. “You shouldn’t let your magic do you’re talking for you.”

He didn’t answer; just disappeared back into the shadows.

Yep, Kal was trouble.

And Marinette was definitely in trouble.

#ml fic #ml salt #class salt #halloween town #marinette dupain cheng #Marinette deserves better

1K notes · View notes

bopbopstyles · 5 years ago

Text

Temptation (pt. 1)

RATING: M/smut

WORD COUNT: 9.4k

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

“Can I ask you something?”

She turned back and looked at him. “Sure.”

“Why haven’t I seen you before?”

She shrugged at his question. “Dunno. I’ve never been to parties here before. We’ve got different majors. It’s a big school.”

“Not that big.”

“Big enough.”

“Too big if I missed out on meeting you until now.”

Her breath caught. The words fell from his mouth with such ease, such nonchalance, as if his words didn’t shake the ground she stood on.

Harry’s a fratboy and Nora (might) be in love with him. (part 1)

PART TWO | PART THREE

After a semester abroad, the last thing Nora felt like doing was going to an American frat party.

She had spent the semester in Germany going to clubs and house parties, weird bars and day drinking at festivals. All she wanted was a pint of good beer, a cute boy to flirt with in her horrifically bad German, and go home and curl up in her double bed. Now she was back home going to a beginning of semester frat party where there would be shit beer, she wouldn’t be “the cute American girl,” and she was back to the Twin-XL life. It was the weekend before school started, so she knew it would be crazy—no one had work to do, no one was stressed, and everyone was desperate to be back at school and away from their families.

But Maddy wanted her to go, and so she was going.

“You’re going to drink these boys under the table!” Maddy called to her from their bathroom where she was curling her hair. “We’re going to play rage cage, I’ve already decided.”

“I hate rage cage,” Nora lied. She loved it and she knew it. “Abroad changed me!”

A bootie came flying in her direction, and Nora caught it before tossing it back to Maddy. “You’re a shit liar.”

She took another sip of the drink she had mixed, some decent vodka and Fresca, her secret weapon of a mixer. “Who are you going after tonight again?”

Since Nora had left Maddy had decided she was in love with the boys of Delta Sigma. They were mostly the international boys who didn’t seem like they’d be the frat type and were so hot you couldn’t tear your eyes away from them. Also, apparently their parties were insane. “His name’s Liam,” she said, “and he was quite possibly the most gorgeous boy on earth.”

“What’s his instagram again?”

She read out a handle from memory, and Nora typed the handle into her phone as she took another sip. She scrolled through the photos, most of which appeared to be from frat parties, with the occasional more artsy photo of him and friends. They appeared to be on actual film, which was interesting for frat boy. “Is he a photographer?”

“No, why?”

“These photos looked like they’re on actual film," she replied. Nora clicked on one and it’s a photo of him, but she noticed he had tagged someone. Someone with the handle @harry_styles. She clicked on the name and was immediately entranced. Based on his bio, he was their year at school, but she had never heard of the kid before. He also appeared to be British. She scrolled through his photos, all taken on film, and gorgeous. Some were of landscapes, but most were portraits of people doing simple and mundane things. He was incredibly talented. “Some kid named Harry takes them,” Nora told her.

“Oh, I think he was friends with Liam. I’ve seen them before.” Maddy strutted out of the bathroom and striked a pose, perfectly curled hair bouncing behind her head as she shook it. “Like?”

“Love.” Maddy was wearing a snakeskin bodysuit, ripped black jeans, and heeled booties, and she looked incredible as usual. “Now what the fuck am I going to wear?”

“Good lord, you will be the death of me someday, Nora Tate.”

The party was in full swing when they arrive. They weaved their way through the crowds on the front lawn, Maddy jabbering in her ear about how hot this Liam kid is. Nora simply nodded along, thankful for the vodka coursing through her veins, because the amount she did not want to be there was pretty high.

The lights were low and the music was loud when they opened the door, the smell of sweat and cheap beer hitting her immediately. Ah yes, this was why she left America.

“Rage cage," she reminded Maddy, and Maddy squeezed her hand before pulling her deep into the crowd. They weaved their way through the throngs of people to the kitchen, where they poured themselves drinks, and then Maddy dragged her to the basement.

There were four pong tables set up, three of which currently had games going—all simple games of pong, and a bunch of people loitering around the tables waiting for a turn. “We’re going to have to start the game,” Maddy told her quietly.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“I’m scared!”

Good lord. “Who do I talk to about starting a game of rage cage?” Nora yelled into the loud room.

Everyone stopped talking and looked in one direction.

Harry was leaning against a table in the back where a computer is set up, most likely controlling the music. “Me,” he yelled in reply, standing up. “Let’s play.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Maddy told her, laughing, “and I love you.”

Harry was fucking gorgeous in person. Like, he was gorgeous on social media, but in person he was effortlessly beautiful. Cropped hair with a wave to it, high cheekbones, and the swagger of someone who truly didn’t give a fuck about what people think of him. She suddenly decided that Maddy was not alone in her love of this fraternity.

A bunch of boys, freshman pledges from the looked of it, finished filling cups with beer and setting up the table. Nora grabbed Maddy’s hand and led her over to the table. She set them up right in the middle, the best place to be, and placed their cups in a safe zone of the table. “Remember, controlled bounces," she reminded Maddy, who was notoriously horrible at this game, “and I’ll help you drink if you need it.”

“My savior,” she replied, and Nora snorts in response.

“Want to start?” She looked up and Harry was standing next to her, holding a ping pong ball out to her. His accent was like butter and she honestly wanted nothing more than to hear it constantly on a loop.

“Sure.”

Some pledge had the other ball and positioned himself across the table from her, and everyone scrunched together around the table. Bodies pressed closer and she tried to ignore the feeling of Harry’s arm flush against hers.

“Good at this game?” Harry asked her, leaning his head over so she could hear him.

“Actually, yes,” she replied.

“Let’s see,” he said, and she thought she caught a wink before she bounced the ball and made her first cup.

Maddy was drunk, despite the fact that Nora had been avoiding giving her a cup the whole game. The problem wasn’t Maddy though, it was the other people at the table. Upon discovering Maddy was a) still quite sober and b) horrible at the game, they took it upon themselves to single her out, sending all their cups her way. Meanwhile, Nora was in her happy drunk phase, one that could be sustained by sipping a drink every hour, but became messy if she went too hard.

Next to her, Harry was flushed and laughing, the alcohol and the game having loosened him up. They kept bumping into each other, their fingers brushing when he passed her the pong ball, and it messed up her breathing every time.

There’s only three cups yet, and she was just praying that Maddy didn’t end up with the bitch cup. But as the ball and the cups worked their way around the table, some pledge drinking one and a girl drinking the other, there was only one left. And the ball was coming straight for them.

“Fuck,” Nora said under her breath.

Harry looked down at her, somehow having heard her. “You good?”

“I just don’t want my friend to have the bitch cup.”

Harry glanced over at Maddy. “looked like it would do her in.” “Harry, pay attention mate!” His head whipped back and the tall stack of cups was right in front of him. He took the ball and Nora watched him, knowing he was going to make a perfect shot in, just like he had all night.

Except he didn’t. He missed.

And he missed again.

“C’mon Harry!” Someone yelled, and her eyes focused on the boy standing before Harry, who was desperately trying to make it into the single cup he has in front of him, but the slick beer-covered surface of the table meant the cup was sliding around and he kept missing.

Harry missed another shot.

And the boy before him made his.

“HARRYYY!!!!!” The table screamed, and everyone started chanting his name as he reached for the bitch cup.

He caught Nora’s eye right before he started chugging the beer, some of it spilling down the front of his barely buttoned shirt.

And it hit her—he missed on purpose.

He was trying to make sure Maddy didn’t have to drink it and instead made sure he drank it.

Harry slammed the empty solo cup down on the table and cheers erupted, a grinning Harry the triumphant loser.

“Another game?” Some kid asked, and everyone agrees, but Nora just shook her head.

“We’re good,” she said, taking her and Maddy’s drinks from earlier.

Harry stepped away from the table. “Same,” he said, and no one questioned that.

“I wanna find Liam,” Maddy said to her as they stepped away from the table.

“Okie doke, Tiger,” she told her, and Maddy giggled in response.

She looked up at Harry who was standing right in front of her, blocking their exit. “Thanks for that," she told him, their eyes catching.

“Anytime,” he replied. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

As if she didn’t already know his name. “Nora.”

“I’m Maddy!” Maddy piped up from behind her. “Now we’re on the hunt for more alcohol and some dancing, so could you scooch out of our way?”

Harry chuckled, and Nora just rolled her eyes. “Have fun,” he said, and she tugged Maddy away from the table.

“he was soooo hot,” Maddy said as they climbed the stairs. “Like literally, could-melt-polar-ice-caps hot.”

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“And you love me for it!” She said, throwing her arm around Nora’s shoulders. “Now let’s find us some dancing.”

Maddy hadn’t been able to capture Liam’s attention despite all of her efforts, but she had captured the attention of another DSig boy, who she was now dancing with in the middle of the dance floor. Nora made her promise to tell her if she was going to leave without her, and with that Nora left her to her own devices.

She wandered outside, seeking fresh air, and sat down on the edge of the deck that extended into the backyard. It was quieter out here, the thud of the bass faint and the cold air welcome on her sweaty skin.

“Fancy seeing you here,” a smooth British accent said to her.

She turned and saw Harry sitting a few feet away from her, leaning back on his hands, a beer next to him. His thin white button-down was unbuttoned low, exposing tattoos littering his torso, and thanks to the porch lights and soft glow of the moon she could see the many rings adorning the fingers of hands and the pendant necklace lying on a butterfly tattoo just on his abdomen. She caught sight of a trace of stubble on his chin and perhaps an earring in his ear.

Nora had never been this entranced by another human being. “Tired of your party?”

“Bloody hate these things after a while.” He took a swig of his beer and sighed. “You said it was Nora, right?”

She nodded. “Without an H.”

He cracked a smile. “Harry, with an H.”

“What would it be, sans an H?”

“Arry.”

“That isn’t a name.”

“Most people call me something that,” he said.

“‘Arry?”

“Yeah.”

“Most people call me Nor," she replied.

“But your name is already so short, why do you need a nickname?” She shrugged in response. Just what people did. “You’re taking the thunder of everyone with names that aren’t nickname-able.”

She leaned back on her hands, copying his pose. “Your name is nickname-able.”

“Try.”

Names rolled over in her head. “I’d probably just said ‘H’.”

He was quiet for a beat. “Never heard that one before.”

“Well, I’m happy that I could introduce it to you.”

They were both quiet for a second, and then she heard the scrape of fabric. Harry had scooted closer to her, his position changed so he was facing her, one leg still dangling off of the porch, the other bent in front of him. “What do you study, Nora without an H?”

“History," she replied without a beat. “Mainly German history.”

“Why?” His tone was genuinely inquisitive, as if this was a completely intriguing fact that he simply must know more about.

“I guess…I’ve always liked stories," she told him, finding her words as they come. “And history is really just a bunch of stories that they can learn from and use to make sense of the world around us.”

He considered her answer. “I like that.”

“And you? What do you study, Harry with an H?”

“Comparative literature,” he replied. “Focusing on Italian.”

“Why?”

He grinned. “I’ve always loved languages and reading, and it just seemed like the right fit. You have a better answers than me for this question.”

“You like comp lit?”

“Love it,” he said immediately.

It was rare to find a fratboy who genuinely enjoys what he studies, so Harry was an outlier. “And you speak Italian, I assume?”

“Sì.”

She knew no Italian, but she gathered that that’s a yes. “How long?”

“Most of my life.” He took another sip of his beer, and someone opened the sliding door behind them, music and voices swirling around them. “My grandparents bought a house in Italy before they had my mum and it’s stayed in the family. I’ve spent all my summers and holidays there.”

“You were there for Christmas, then, I assume?” He nodded. “I’m jealous.”

“Best place on earth.”

“Where in Italy?”

“Lucca. It’s not too far from Florence.” He scooted a hair closer to her as he swung his other leg onto the porch, winding his long legs into a comfortable position. “You ever been?”

“To Italy?” He nodded. “Nope. Didn’t make it there while I was abroad.”

“Shame. Where’d you go?”

“Berlin for the fall semester," she replied, and he perked up. “Traveled a bunch, but stuck to central and northern Europe mainly. Copenhagen, Prague, Luxembourg, Amsterdam, Warsaw, and then around Germany. Spent a week in London during Thanksgiving and my mom met me there.”

He ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly, and she watched his bicep flex with the movement. “That sounds incredible. My parents told me being here was my study abroad, so I’m missing out.”

“That’s a shame," she told him. “I needed the break from all this," she waved her hand around them, attempting to capture the absurdity of college and the pressure and the exhaustion in a single motion. “Felt nice to be given the opportunity to slow down a bit.”

“I can imagine.”

Their conversation slowed a bit. The sliding door opened again and a group of girls started talking loudly near them, their discussion circling around some boy they’re all in love with, but they thankfully made their way to the fire pit on the other side of the yard.

“Can I ask you something?”

She turned back and looked at him. “Sure.”

“Why haven’t I seen you before?”

She shrugged at his question. “Dunno. I’ve never been to parties here before. We’ve got different majors. It’s a big school.”

“Not that big.”

“Big enough.”

“Too big if I missed out on meeting you until now.”

Her breath caught. The words fell from his mouth with such ease, such nonchalance, as if his words didn’t shake the ground she stood on.

“Nor!”

She looked up and Maddy was standing in the doorway and she was thankful for the distraction. “You okay?”

“I wanna go homeeee,” Maddy said, her words slightly slurred. “I’m tired.”

“Let’s go home then, babes.” She downed the rest of her beer and then turned to Harry. “See you around, H.”

Before he had the chance to reply, Nora walked inside, the door shutting behind her.

Maddy and Nora spent the rest of the weekend decorating their apartment and analyzing Harry’s sentence to her. Maddy was convinced that he had a crush on her, but Nora begged to differ. Nora thought he was just a poetic guy who had a bit too much to drink. Maddy rolled her eyes at her but let it drop finally and began describing Niall, the adorable Irish boy who she had been dancing with. He was sweet and funny and a good kisser, and didn’t try to get her to come home with him. Just got her number and told her to find Nora so she could go home since she was drunk and tired. (Sometimes, Nora thinks, it’s a bit sad how low the bar was set.) She seemed to have forgotten all about Liam, who she said was just too unattainable that it wasn’t worth trying.

By Monday, Nora was anxious to get into the classroom. After a semester of operating at half intelligence because all her classes were in German, she was excited to be able to actually communicate her full thoughts on a topic. She wanted to write papers and read things that intrigued her.

She'd put a lot of thought into crafting her schedule, leaving time for her shifts at the coffeeshop on campus, while also balancing her schedule between History, German, and Gen Ed requirements. She'd chosen to takes an Urban Studies class for her technology requirements, since it required use of something classed GIS. Maddy was an Urban Studies major, so Nora decided that it was safe to assume she’d help her pass if she needed it.

She chose a safe seat—middle of the room, middle of the row, able to see the screen but not too close that she looked too eager. She unpacked her notebook, already labelled for the class and her pencil bag with her favorite pens. She was ready to be back at school.

She was not ready for Harry Styles to slide into the seat next to her.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, and she just about jumped out of her skin.

“Fucking hell.” The words fell from her mouth without pause. “You scared me.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not," she said, catching her breath. “What are you doing here?”

“Fulfilling a Gen Ed,” he replied. “This seemed interesting and easy enough. You?”

Embarrassingly, the same reason. “Me too.”

He smiled. “Was nice to see a familiar face when I walked in.”

Before she could reply, the lecture started, and her mind tuned out everything else in the room. Their professor went over the syllabus, which seemed decent, and then started in on the first lecture. Nora was quickly engrossed, scribbling notes about different city planning techniques and histories, making notes of things she wanted to look up more on. The professor had a good lecture style—succinct, engaging, and a bit funny. He had some memes throughout his presentation that got the class laughing, and she tried to ignore how Harry’s soft chuckle made her stomach flip.

In fact, she spent the whole class trying to ignore Harry.

She tried to ignore the way he bit his lip while he wrote notes, the wrinkle in his eyebrows when he was trying to understand something, the way he pulled on his lip when he was reading intently. How his handwriting was messy but clear, how he said “fuck” lightly under his breath when he smudged ink, how his leg bounced up and down when he was trying to focus.

But most of all she tried to ignore the fact that he kept glancing over at her.

Because the thing was, Nora was not in the market to have feelings for someone. She didn’t want to have a crush. She wants to have aimless sex with cute boys and go about her life as she wanted. After the fall, she'd decided that boys were confusing and a waste of time.

Jonas. She'd met him at a house party and it had been a fling—they’d hooked up a couple of times, he’d make her tea and breakfast in the morning, they’d drunk text each other, and he’d act like her boyfriend if they were out together. Sometimes the things he’d say and the way he’d look at her would make her wonder if it was more for him. If he cared. But then, before she knew it the semester was over and it was time to go and their didn’t even have a proper goodbye. It was weird and confusing and when she left she didn’t know what to make of it, because if they’d had more time she probably would’ve dated him. And now, sometimes she'd remember the way he’d back her up against a wall and wonder if she'd find someone who would kiss her the way Jonas did.

So when Nora looked at Harry, she couldn’t help but wonder how he would kiss. And that was when she knew that even though she had only known him for two days, she was developing a crush.

And that was the opposite of how she wanted to start her semester.

When class ended, Harry turned to her and said, “Want to go pick up their course books?”

She didn’t have a class next, so she had no excuse. So she just said yes.

“What did you think?” He asked, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder as they exited the lecture hall.

“The professor was great," she replied. “Really engaging and seems like he was not going to be harsh of a grader since it’s an intro class.”

“Yeah definitely. And I liked how he explained all of the different city plans with such detail but also clarity. He seems to know what he was doing.”

They turned to exit onto the campus green, and she pulled her coat a little tighter around her. It was January and she had forgotten how cold it could get in Massachusetts. “Which section do you think you’re going to do?” The professor had mentioned at the end of class that they would have weekly discussion sections with their TAs to go over material and readings, and had listed out the different time options. She was leaning towards Wednesdays at 11, just after their class was over.

“Probably Wednesday at 11,” he replied. “Fits best into my schedule.”

Fuck. “I was thinking of doing the same one," she told him. This was not good. More time around Harry was not going to be good for her.

“Really?” Nora couldn’t help but take joy in the smile that spread across his face. “Thank god. I hate going into those sections and not knowing where to sit.”

They turned into the building with the campus bookstore, and Nora unwound her scarf from around her neck. “Well, you won’t have to worry about that.”

“Do you have other books you need to pick up?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I’m going to hold off and go after my other classes so I can figure out what I can get at the library first.”

“Good idea.” He pulled out the syllabus from his backpack and studied the instructions their professor had written down for the books their need. “I think they’re over this way,” he said, leading the way to the back corner.

“Spend a lot of time here?” She asked, shocked he knew where to find the books without even asking for help.

“I worked here during freshman and sophomore year,” he replied. “They never change up the organization of this place.” He scanned the shelves with his finger, mumbling the names of the authors they were looking for under his breath. Nora stood behind him and couldn’t help but smile. “Here,” he said, pulling two copies of one out. “Hold them?”

“‘Course.” She took the books and held them in her arms while he continued his search for the second and third titles they need. He quickly tracked them down, snatching them off the shelf and adding them to the pile in her arms. “That it?”

“Yes.” They weaved their way to the front register and she followed Harry, watching how his long brown coat whips around his ankles when he walked.

After they paid, they walked back out to the campus green and stood on the edge of the sidewalk facing each other. “Do you have another class?” He asked her.

She nodded. “Later. Think I’m going to go home and drop these off first, though.” She lifted the stack of books in her arms and he smiled.

“Bit too heavy for you?”

“Shove off," she said, and a smile sneaked onto her face when he chuckled.

“Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

She took a step back and shouldered her bag. “Bye, H.”

“Bye, Nora.”

She tried to ignore the beauty of the way he said her name. But she failed.

Maddy and Nora had been in the library for most of Saturday doing their readings for the next week, and by seven o’clock Nora wanted to bash her head into a wall. She kept re-reading the same sentence about the layout of Vienna’s old city and couldn’t process any of the words.

“Maddy," she whispered, poking her in the arm with the cap of her highlighter. “I want to go.”

“Stop poking me, you ass.” Maddy looked up from her readings. “Let’s get out of here—I feel like I smell like library at this point.”

We packed up their stuff quietly, ignoring the death stares from a girl with a problem set spread out on the table in front of her. “It’s like they don’t realize that people naturally make noise when they move," she said, and Maddy snorted, earning them more glares. “Come on, we should go before we’re killed in here.”

She followed Maddy out of the room they were in and made their way down the hall, the sound of Nora’s sneakers squeaking on the tile floor earning us yet more glares from people. It was literally the first week back at school, Nora thought, how are people already so stressed about work?

Maddy suddenly slowed her walk and matched her pace with Nora’s, leaning in close to her. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that Harry walking towards us?”

Nora looked up and realize that it was Harry. He was wearing an oversized black sweatshirt and a pair of houndstooth pants that he somehow makes looked both comfortable and stylish, along with a pair of glasses. She simply does not understand this boy’s ability to looked so good constantly. “I cannot talk to him right now," she told Maddy. “I looked like complete shit and he looked like…a Greek god.”

“Shut up. You’re going to talk to him because he was basically beelining over here.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck," she said under her breath.

“Nora.” Harry’s voice was soft because of the library, and she loved the way it sounded. “Maddy, right? I’m Harry.”

Maddy nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

Harry’s gaze turned back to her, and she decided then and there that she loves him in glasses. He was not just a Greek god, he was a studious Greek god. Tortoise shell, peak book nerd. “How are you?”

“Good," she replied. “Was just doing the reading for their class.”

He groaned. “I haven’t even started it. How bad is it?”

She shrugged. “A bit dry, but not horrible.”

“Great,” he said. “I have that to look forward to doing. What are you two up to tonight?”

She looked at Maddy, who shrugged. “Unsure at this point.”

“We’re having another party if you want to come.”

“We’ll be there,” Maddy said before Nora had the chance to reply. She shot Maddy a death stare, which Maddy just ignored.

Harry grinned and it was utterly adorable. “I’ve got to keep working, but I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye H.” The nickname fell from her mouth with ease, and he smiled in response.

“Bye Nora.”

He walked away and she turned to Maddy, who was grinning ear to ear. “What?”

Maddy shook her head and gave her a knowing smile. “You’re fucked.”

She looked back to Harry’s receding figure. Maddy was right. Nora was completely fucked.

They had been at the party for an hour and Nora had yet to see Harry. She didn’t know if he was hiding or something, but no matter which room she went into or how hard she looked, she still couldn’t manage to spot him in the crowd. The party was bigger than last weekend as everyone was now on campus, and Maddy and Nora kept running into people they knew, so now they’ve developed a little crew to hang out with. Their friends Taylor and Lauren arrived shortly after Maddy and Nora did, and they brought with them a girl who was in the same sorority as Lauren and was dating a DSig. As a result, they all end up trashed and dancing without much time passing.

Nora threw her arms around Maddy and screamed the lyrics to a Post Malone song, and Nora felt utterly, blissfully happy. She had forgotten about this side of frat parties while she was gone—how happy she was when she was dancing and there was alcohol coursing through her veins. Some girl must have gotten hold of the music, because the song changed to an old Taylor Swift song and the girls lost it, jumping up and down in the crowd and screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs.

“I need a drink!” Nora said when the song was over, her throat hoarse and her hair sticking to the back of her neck. The song switches, and the Maddy screamed—it was her favorite song and she had to be on the dance floor for it. Nora could see the torn look in her best friend’s eyes, and she shook her head. “I’m good—I’ll be back in a second.”

She pushed through the crowd, apologizing as she dug her elbows into people to make a path to the kitchen. She grabbed a beer, needing something cold and not too strong, and leaned against the countertop, letting the cooler air wash over her skin.

“Hello.”

The words tingled down her spine, and she turned her head to see Harry standing in the door jamb. The kitchen had mostly cleared out, so it was just the two of them and a set of girls who looked like freshman trying to decide which mixer was less disgusting with their bad vodka. “Hi, H.”

“Having fun?” He was wearing a black t-shirt and it was tight in all the right places and Nora had to force herself to not consider what it would be like to take it off of him.

She nodded. “Couldn’t find you, though.” The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them and Nora wanted to shrink into the counter. She sounded desperate and psychotic—she had barely known this boy and now she was complaining about now being able to find him?

But Harry just smiled. “I was upstairs,” he explained. “Was trying to finish a bit of work before I started drinking.”

If he was doing work here, Nora assumed he lived in the house. “You live here?”

“Unfortunately.” He moved towards her, grabbing a beer from the fridge next to her, and Nora caught a flash of light blue on his fingers. Harry painted his nails, she realized.

This fraternity boy painted his goddamned nails light blue.

Who was this boy?

What planet was he from?

And more importantly, where had he been all of her life?

“I like your nails,” she said. “What color is that?”

He glanced down at them. “Dunno. Stole it from my sister over winter break. I can check and text it to you later, though.”

“I’d like that.” Nora took another sip of her beer, the cold drink feeling good in her body. “Where are all your friends?”

Harry shrugged. Nora got the sense that he didn’t really care about all the fraternity stuff and she liked that. Frat boys had always annoyed with their “bro energy” as Maddy called it and she’d met some real assholes during her time in college. Harry seemed like an outlier though. “You want to dance?” He asked her, breaking her out of her trance.

She straightened up. “Sure.” She tried not to think about the fact that she cannot, for the life of her, dance sexily. Maddy had made fun of her for it since freshman year, and despite her efforts Nora had not been able to master the art of looking hot and dancing. She was more of a whip-your-arms-around-and-scream dancer.

When they reached the crowded living room, Harry grabbed her hand and Nora loved his callused hand in her hers, the way he held it tightly so he didn’t lose her in the crowd. He didn’t go too deep into the crowd, wanting to make sure they had space to breathe and it was not too hot. When he stopped moving he tried to create space for them, wanting to make sure they could actually move, not just stand there like idiots and battle for oxygen on the dance floor. Nora took a long swig of her beer, and then she started to sway her hips, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

She liked this boy. She had a massive crush on Harry and his soft words and the way he called her by her full name and smiled at her. She had a crush on the way he was dancing—awkwardly and with a goofy grin on his face, screaming the lyrics to the Top 40s hit along with her. She liked that he didn’t seem to care what people thought of him, that he painted his nails baby blue and knew how to dress himself. She even liked his tattoos, which she usually secretly judged people for, but on Harry they fit him. She wanted to trace the outlines of them and ask him about the stories behind them, to know everything about him. She liked that he took the hit during rage cage for Maddy. She liked that when they were dancing he gives her a thumbs up to check in and make sure she was doing okay.

She really liked him, she realized as she dances with him. She wanted to impress him, but not in a way that’s uncomfortable—more in a way where she just wanted him to see the best parts of her. But she also wanted him to know her, she realized. She wanted him to know things about her and like being around her as much as she did. Because he put her on edge, but not because he made her uncomfortable, but because of how much she liked him. She wanted to know him, even if it was just to be friends, because he seemed interesting. She felt like he has layers to him, and every time she snatches another piece of information she only has more questions.

Even if they were just friends, Nora wanted to know him, she decided.

So she decided, fuck it all, and danced like she didn’t have a care in the world, because she wanted him to see the real her. She wanted him to see her awkward dancing and to accidentally hit him in the face with her hair so that he knew her and could bail if he didn’t like her. She wanted to give him and out and see if he took it.

And he didn’t.

They dance for what feels like forever, their beers long gone. He grabbed her hand at one point when people were becoming pushy and pulled her closer to him, their sweaty bodies touching each other practically every time they move. They sang their favorite songs, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I fucking love this song,” when Mamma Mia came on, and Nora decided that it’s the cutest thing she had ever found out about someone. She told him about her obsession with Drake when In My Feelings comes on, and he admitted that he listened to this song on repeat for three hours one time. They had these snippets of conversation on the dance floor, their faces close and voices loud enough to be heard over the music.

SexyBack came on and they both devolve into seventh graders, obsessed with this song and not really caring about the meaning. Nora danced, throwing her hands up and dropping her hips lower than she had before.

And then someone slammed into her back, throwing her straight into Harry’s chest.

The feeling of him close to her set her skin on fire.

She had kept just enough distance during the evening to make sure they weren’t this close, but it had not taken much for them to be fully flush against each other. And now they were and Nora could feel everything. One of her hands was on his pecs and she could feel the smooth muscle across his chest, and the other hand landed on his side, the palm of her hand on his abs and she felt the outline of abs there. Her fingers dug into his skin, grappling for balance as she tried to find her footing.

Harry’s hands immediately found her waist, holding her steady. His fingers felt like they were searing on her lower back, the contact sending Nora into outer space. And she didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or from him, but either way her head was spinning a bit.

“You okay?” He asked, his accent smooth as butter in her ear. His lips were close enough that they brush softly against her hair and the edge of her ear. Nora was trying not to hyperventilate, but also maintain her footing, and not press all of her weight onto Harry.

She was about to answer that yes, she was fine, so sorry, when someone bumped into her again, pushing her back into Harry. He stumbles this time and wrapped his arms around Nora fully to try and keep them both upright. He was essentially hugging her at this point and Nora thought her heart might have stopped the second she felt him tug her close to him.

“Someone’s really trying to push you over, aren’t they?” He said with a chuckle into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” Nora apologized, finding her footing and straightening. She didn’t push away from Harry though, and he didn’t let go of her. “I didn’t mean to fall onto you—or into you, I guess?”

He shook his head. “No matter. You okay, love?”

Love. The word reverberated through Nora’s head and she tried to keep her wits about her. She knew she was feeling mushy tonight—all these thoughts of Harry and how adorable he was and sweet and kind had got her melting for him, but maybe that was the alcohol? She couldn’t keep it straight. And when he called her love, all of the efforts to keep it together just fall apart.

“I’m okay,” she answered softly. “Are you?” She looked up and into his eyes, and even though the room was dark, she could still make out his eyes in the strobing lights, the flashes of his beautiful hair and his high cheekbones. She could see his eyes meet hers and Nora felt this pull in her chest to kiss him. He didn’t break eye contact with her and Nora was just searching his eyes, begging for an answer, an explanation, some hint to tell her what to do and what he bloody wanted.

Because she knew what she wanted. She wanted to kiss him.

“‘M fine.” His voice was like sandpaper and she wondered if his mouth was as dry as hers was. He hadn’t moved his hands from her back, only loosened them slightly so he was not holding her quite so close.

She inched her fingers upwards, one landing on his shoulder, the other on his elbow. Nora wondered if she was imagining the way his breathing had quickened. Did she kiss him? She wanted to. She wanted to kiss him so bad. She wanted to know what his lips feel like on hers, if they were as soft as they felt when they bushed her ear. She wanted to know what he tasted like and how he would kiss her. Did she just do it? She searched his eyes one last time, the seconds stretching into what feels like hours. “Can I kiss you?”

He blinked.

Nora held her breath.

Then, his lips were on hers and suddenly Nora knew exactly what his lips feel like on hers. They were soft like velvet and he smelled like heaven.

He kissed her like it was his last breath, desperate to know if she breathed the same air as him. Deep and wanting, the intensity building with every press of his lips to hers. It was urgent, yet soft—he didn’t lick into her mouth, just stays on her lips. And man, can the boy kiss.

Her hand moved from his shoulder to his neck and wound through the hair there, a breathless moan leaving his mouth, and she wondered if he liked it when she pulled his hair.

So when he finally did lick his tongue against the seam of her lips and she widened them, she pulled, ever so softly.

And he moaned deeply, his grip on her waist tightening.

Nora wanted to kiss him for the rest of time.

Her other hand moved from his elbow to his back, fingers finding the material of his shirt and pulling him closer to her. Her fingers curled into the cotton, the sweat from them dancing on her palm but she didn’t care because she wanted him closer. She could feel every inch of his body flush with hers and she loved it—the way he felt against her, the way her skin was lit on fire, the way she wanted to drink purely Harry until the end of time.

“Nora,” he said, pulling back, allowing both of them to catch their breath, “do you want to come upstairs?”

She hesitated. It’s not that she didn’t want to—she’d love to fuck this boy until the dawn of time—but she had no idea where her friends were, and she would rather not let them think she’d been kidnapped. And if she thought about it, she knew she probably shouldn’t. She barely knew Harry and she had class twice a week with him, and most likely a discussion section on top of it. If it didn’t work out, she had to see him constantly for the rest of the semester, which was not ideal.

His finger raised her chin slightly so she had to look into his eyes. “I’m not trying to get you to sleep with me, by the way. I just want to get out of this fuckin’ sweaty crowd so I can kiss you properly and not worry if I’m going to be kicked in the back. And if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine too. I’ll stay here if you’d rather that. Or we don’t have to kiss at all—I don’t want you to do anything you have to.” He was rambling, unsure of his standing. Her hesitation had thrown him for a loop and Harry wasn’t sure if she even wanted to kiss him at all anymore. Was she into it? He thought she was from the way she pulled him towards her, but from the hesitation he wasn’t sure and he wanted to be sure.

“No, it’s not that,” she said, and his fears were immediately pushed aside. “I just want to let my friends know where I am first.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Where are they?”

Nora looked around the crowd, but couldn’t catch sight of them anywhere. “When I left they were here. Lemme try texting them.” She pulled out her phone and found a string of texts from the group chat with Maddy, Taylor and Lauren discussing the fact that she was making out with Harry Styles and that they were fine and to do whatever she wanted, that they’d find her when they were going to go and check in. Truly the best friends of all time. She quickly texted them that she was going upstairs to Harry’s room and then she looked back up at him, his lips quirked in a smile. Nora wondered if he saw the texts, but then decided there’s no reason to freak out—he was making out with her, after all. “Upstairs?”

“Upstairs.” His fingers wound through hers and he led the way out of the crowd, dodging groups of frantic dancers and couples making out just as they had been. He navigated the crowd with ease, his tall frame putting him a head above most other people, and Nora just held onto his hand and let him lead her out of the crowd and up the stairs.

It was quieter on the second floor, a row of doors to bedrooms shut and soft music drifting out of some, the loud thud of the bass from the main floor less intense. Nora stayed close to Harry, her body magnetic to his. He led her down the hall, telling her who lives in all the other rooms, pointing to the bathroom as they passed it, just in case she needed it. Then, they were standing outside a room with his name on the door and he turned to her.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked her, searching for confirmation, which he found when Nora nodded.

He pushed open the door, a soft light from his bedside table lamp illuminating bits of the room. Nora saw posters of bands, a minimalist map of Milan, and stacks upon stacks of books lining the walls. She stepped inside and he shut the door behind her, and she continued to investigate the room, taking stock of the various pieces of information she could collect from its decoration. A guitar leaned against the wall, sheets of paper next to it with scribblings on them—he was a musician—and a basket of cleanly folded laundry lies in the corner so she knew he was clean and tidy. He had photos of his family on his dresser, which warmed her heart, and a stereo in the corner with a stack of records next to it.

“What do you think?”

She turned to him. He was leaning against his door, a look of curiosity and a hint of fear on his face. They were still learning about each other, and he had exposed a huge part of who he is to her by letting her in here. “I think you like music and books.”

Harry just laughed. “Well, you’re right about that.”

He didn’t move from the door, so Nora decided to take the lead. She wanted to kiss this boy again, not have a conversation about his favorite book he read or the musician that transformed his understanding of music. She sat on the edge of his bed, leaned back on her hands, and gave Harry a look that screamed, “Come.”

And he does, a quirk in his brow. He stood between her widened legs, brushed a thumb across her jawline, and then leand down to reconnect their lips. Nora softened immediately, her hands begging for purchase on his skin, and pulled him towards her. Harry kicked off his boots and then gently pushed Nora up on the bed, following her, the desire written all over his face. He was about to lean down to kiss her again when Nora said, “Wait. Shirt?”

He pulled it over his head without a second thought, and Nora relished in the sight of his tattoos. The butterfly on his abdomen she’d seen before, the swallows on his pecs, the ship on his arm that she hadn’t. The small musings up and down his arms that she would look closer at later, she decided. In the mean time, she pulled him in by his neck and he collapsed into her, his weight a welcome feeling against her body. Nora widened her knees and hooked her ankles around him, resting them on his lower back. The pressure pushed him closer to her core and she gasped at the feeling—she couldn’t help it. He was big. Bigger than she expected.

Harry stopped his assault on her neck and looked up at her. “This okay?”

“God yes,” she replied. “Keep going.”

He smiled, and returned his lips to her neck, pulling and prodding at her skin with his lips and his teeth, sucking what would be a hickey later onto the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Usually Nora despised hickeys, but she couldn’t find the reason to care right now. Her hands scrabbled at his skin, trying to find purchase, the feeling of him grinding slowly into her and his lips on her neck almost too much.

“Harry,” she said, gasping for air as he tugged at the neck of her shirt to gain more access, “roll over.”

She unhooked her ankles and he rolled, pliant to her words. She straddled him immediately, loving the view of Harry Styles spread out beneath her. His hair was tousled from her fingers, lips swollen from her kisses, chest rising fast from her. She felt him beneath where she sat on his abdomen and it made her smile. Then, she pulled her shirt off and she watched him look at her.

Nora hadn’t always loved her body. She remembered the first time she ever took off her shirt, the boy looking at her didn’t know what to say or do with her breasts, and she hated it. She wondered if they were too big—girls in films have breasts, but never ones that were like hers. The size that hurt when she ran and gave her back aches. The size her friends didn’t really understand—the size Nora hated as a teenager. But in the past two years she decided to stop giving a fuck. She thought she was beautiful and she was done letting what other people think of her change that. And when she let Harry look at her, she was wondering what he was thinking. Did he think she was as beautiful as she does?

And then he told her. “Good lord,” he said, voice hoarse, “you’re gorgeous.” He leaned up and kissed her cleavage that’s exposed, Nora’s fingers finding a home in his curls.

“Fuck, H,” she whined at the feeling of his lips on her tender skin. She bent down and captures his lips with her own, pressing him back onto his back, loving their bare skin on one another. They were battling for both air and dominance, and when Nora’s lips started traveling down his neck and onto his chest, Harry thought he stopped breathing for a second. She sucks a hickey on his pec, right above the swallow, and then blew on it and he practically shivered from the sensitivity.

He could feel her traveling southward and even though he wanted her to suck him off—good lord did he want her too—he stopped her. He tugged her up, reattaching their lips, a “C’mere,” whispered between them. He wanted to kiss her for longer, he wanted to drag this out as long as possible. And also, quite honestly, if she kept occasionally rolling her hips like she was doing he might come from that alone. She was gorgeous, yes in the way she looked, but also the confidence she exuded and the way she told him what she wantd and the way she was tracing up and down his arms and sides with her fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He was fucked, because this girl had managed to turn him into putty after knowing him for just one week.

And then she started really moving her hips back and forth. Nora knew what it wa doing to him and she loved it—loved the knowledge that she was the one making him feel this way and she wanted to see how far it would go, how far she could take it. So as she kissed him, their lips moving in sync, she rolled her hips on his, grinding down every once and a while, drinking up every breathless moan leaving Harry’s lips, savoring each grunt, and when he let out a low, “Nora, please, fuck,” she knew she had him in her hand.

She smiled against his mouth and turned her head, leaning down to his ear, and whispered, “Tell me what you want, H.” He grunted and she rolled her hips again, the seam of his jeans rubbing against her clit in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “What do you want?” She asked, her voice low and dripping with desire.

“You,” he said finally. “Fuck, Nora, I want you.”

Nora kisses his cheek and then makes her way down his chest, making a path right to his dick. Harry had given up any contemplation of waiting, he couldn’t wait anymore. He wanted her so bad it genuinely physically hurt. He needed to come and he needed to come now. Nora popped the button on his jeans and Harry lifted his hips to let her pull them down.

Then, a series of knocks came from the door.

Nora’s head whipped up and so did Harry’s. No one knocked on his door usually. They knew he was private, that he didn’t like people in his space unless he invited them.

“Nora?” Maddy’s voice could be heard over the dull throbbing of the bass from downstairs, and Nora let out a sigh. “We’re heading out babes.”

Nora looked between Harry and the door. “Give me one second,” she called back to Maddy, her eyes not leaving Harry. “I’m going to go,” she told him. She had shit to do tomorrow. But also, she wanted to make sure she was not making a mistake by hooking up with Harry, since she was going to be seeing him all the time for the rest of the semester. She wanted to think about this, because she wasn’t expecting this to happen and needed to take a moment to consider the repercussions of her actions. She barely knew Harry—what would he do if they fuck? Would he ignore her for the rest of the semester? He might be nice, but he was still a fratboy, and Nora had enough experience in that department to know the norm wasn’t to bring a girl flowers after.

“Everything okay?” He asked, sitting up as she snatched her shirt from the other side of the bed where had she discarded it.

She nodded. “I just need a second to…think.”

Harry considered this. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing he is—that they have class together for the rest of the semester and it was probably not the best idea to fuck your classmate the first weekend of the semester. “Okay,” he replied. “No worries. I’ll, uh, see you in class, I guess?”

Nora was tugging on her booties and she looked at him with a small smile on her face. “Bright and early Monday morning.”

Harry got up, rebuttoning his pants. As Nora was about to open the door, he grabbed her wrist, acting on pure instinct, and pressed a kiss against her lips. It was softer than the ones before, a simple kiss that was a goodbye, but also a question. A question begging, “What’s next?” Nora broke the kiss, and with a touch to the hickey left behind above the swallow, she was out the door and gone.

Harry stumbled to his bed, his body hitting the mattress with a sigh.

He was so, so royally fucked.

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i hope you guys enjoyed this! this is my first fic and i’m super excited about her. :) let me know what you think of my lil frat boy harry. there is more coming soon. xoxo

ask me about fratboy!harry here | masterlist here

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aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 5 years ago

Note

Rowaelin for the OTP Drabble #24

Lmao, this was so fun to write. Thank you for the request! This is like, my first try at Rowaelin fanfictions so please don't kill me if it's bad. I promise I'm improving everyday! 😌

Detention Diaries

Pairing: Rowan x Aelin

Word count: 2012 words.

Warnings: A little swearing here and there.

Summary: Rowan Whitethorn has spent three years of high school like a nobody but when the self proclaimed queen of Terrasen High lands them both into detention, maintaining a low profile might be impossible.

Aelin was so done with the day.

She had accidentally stayed up all night reading a book and now, her eyelids itched to shut down. She had already dozed off thrice in Maths class and had it not been for Dorian shaking her every two minutes, Ms Meave would have had Aelin's head.

Even now, she suppressed a yawn as she made her way to the lockers in the hallway. "I am so screwed. I have an English test today."

A few students waved their hands at Aelin in passing and she gave them a smile. Aelin won't say she was popular but she did know a lot of people in the school, thanks to her cousin Aedion being on the football team and Dorian in the student council.

Dorian rolled his eyes as they stopped by his locker. "Don't be dramatic. You can't fail English even half asleep."

Her best friend was searching for something in his locker when the crowd quieted down and he came. Rowan Whitethorn.

She had heard his name whispered enough times in gossip circles to know just what kind of things he was involved in. The guy had a reputation for being a cold hearted asshole, even if Aelin had never even heard him raise his voice.

A hood covered a better part of his face, hiding the tattoo that covered half his pretty face. She could make out the silver hair peaking from beneath the hood, the oversized hoodie doing nothing to flatter the muscles they all knew he had.

He was beautiful.

Dorian noticed her stare, then rolled his eyes. He kissed her cheek, then said, "Don't get into trouble. I have Physics next." And then Dorian was gone.

Aelin tried to ignore the blush that fought it's way onto her cheeks as she walked beside Rowan. She had to remind herself that he never talked to anyone and this would only lead to heartbreak but maybe her sense of self preservation was half asleep too because she said, "Going to English?"

Her words were met with silence. She already knew he was going to English. It was one of the many classes they had in common but an answer would have been nice. She tried again, "Ready for the test today, Rowan?"

"Yes," was all he said.

Then Rowan quickened his pace, possibly to lose Aelin in the crowd but she was the uncrowned queen of Terrasen High. While the students parted to make way for Rowan out of fear, they parted for Aelin out of love and admiration.

She made sure to wave and smile at a few of them as she fought to catch up with Rowan's awfully long strides.

The test hadn't even started when they arrived to the class. Their English teacher Gavriel was sitting in his chair, a thick stack of papers on his desk. When he noticed Aelin entering the class with Rowan, her uncle raised an eyebrow. What trouble are you getting into now?

"No trouble," She promised him out loud as Rowan went to take a seat.

She chose to sit directly behind him and started on her test as soon as it was distributed. The test was fairly easy, even though Aelin had to put some extra efforts to recall a few names and places in between, thanks to the sleep deprivation. At one point, she was ready to throw her pen at the nearest wall and go to sleep then and there. She only managed to stay awake throughout with a sheer force of will.

The real trouble arose when she had finished the test. Not having anything else to do, Aelin decided to poke Rowan with her ruler.

He turned around, his pine green eyes brimming with fury and Aelin raised an eyebrow, face carefully blank. "Something I can help you with, sir?"

"Stop," He said in deep, rough and slightly accented voice that sent shivers down her spine before turning around.

Gods, even his voice was beautiful.

Aelin wrote on the back of her answersheet: Your voice is beautiful. Do you sing too? She crumpled the paper into a ball, then kicked it gently towards Rowan, who had also finished writing the test.

He did not answer back. Silence means affirmation, Mr. Whitethorn. Will I have the pleasure of hearing you sing sometime? She threw the note at the back of his head this time, drawing attention from a few students. For all that she loved being the social butterfly, Aelin was not keen of the rumours that came with popularity but she was having too much fun trying to piss Rowan off.

He opened the note, read it, then shoved it into his pocket. Then he turned around and snarled quietly, "Do not fuck with me, princess."

That had to be the most words she had heard him say ever and ignoring the tone with which he had delivered the words, Aelin felt a small amount of giddiness at the term of endearment he had used. Princess, she sighed to herself.

Her smile must have been very apparent because Uncle Gavriel asked, "Something funny, Miss Galathynius?"

"Why, the question paper," She answered with a lazy wave of her hand, "a child could do this, sir. If you want me to take your tests seriously, at least make them a little difficult."

A few students snickered.

Gavriel rolled his eyes, then went back to keeping an eye on everyone. A minute or two passed and Aelin was already dozing off again. She kicked Rowan's chair and someone whispered her name from behind her.

Aedion was hissing at her from two rows over, "Whatever you are doing, stop it. Whitethorn will kill you off."

Whitethorn did indeed look like he wanted to kill her off but God, Aelin had to be in some mood today because she ignored the glares from both the males, flipping her cousin off and went back to kicking at Rowan's chair. His knuckles were tightly gripping his desk as if he was trying not to strangle her and seeing his expression, she didn't doubt for a second that he gladly would.

"Rowan," she called. "Rowan, will you tell me what shampoo you use? Your hair looks so silky!"

He gave her an incredulous look before smoothing his features into a blank expression. She wrote him another note: Please, tell me what shampoo??? Please? Your hair looks so pretty and they smell SO good. His hair did shine beautifully and they even smelt nice but Aelin did it less out of curiosity and more because she was bored and Rowan Whitethorn was her best chance at entertainment.

When he received the note, Rowan's eyes went wide. He growled back at her. "Gods, do you never stop, Aelin?"

Aelin opened her mouth to answer but her uncle beat her to it. "Miss Galathynius and Mr Whitethorn, if you don't stop now, you're going to find yourself in the principal's office."

"Excuse me, sir, but she is bothering me," Rowan said, his cheeks tinged pink.

Aelin gasped dramatically, rising from her seat. She pointed an accusatory finger at the brooding figure in front of her, then said, "Liar, Liar, pants on fire! You were the one insisting we should be friends!"

"Friends?" Rowan scoffed. "The only thing I'm going to be around you is irritated."

Gavriel was making his way towards them and Aelin had no qualms about throwing him under the bus. He hadn't stopped to think before he had accused her of bothering him, had he? Why should she?

Because he was telling the truth. You're not, some sane voice said from the back of her mind.

Aelin did not pay it any attention. "That's not what you were saying out in the hallway when we were flirting!"

Aelin took a huge amount of satisfaction when Rowan's cheeks flushed with colour, the tips of his ears turning a dark red. "Flirting? With you? I'd rather die in a ditch—"

"DETENTION, BOTH OF YOU!" Her uncle bellowed.

Rowan let out a loud growl of protest. Aelin just shrugged, a smug smile on her face as she sat back down.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Rowan had never been more pissed. He did not know anyone as insufferable as Aelin Galathynius with her reputation around the school as a heartbreaker, the self-proclaimed princess of Terrasen High. He loathed how hard she laughed sometimes, drawing all attention towards herself. He loathed how her eyes crinkled, the gold rings around the turquoise shining brighter every time she smiled.

She had everyone in the school at her beck and call and it pissed Rowan off.

Even now, she sauntered into detention with a swagger as if there was no other place she would rather be. The class was empty, save for Rowan and a dark haired guy sitting in the back. Aelin noticed him too and raised an eyebrow, "Why, Fenrys darling, what did you do to end up in this hellscape?"

Fenrys had a wry smile playing on his lips. "It's not Hell if you're here, sweetheart."

Right. If Rowan tried hard enough, he could recall a conversation in the locker rooms about the school player, Fenrys Moonbeam leaving some party with Aelin Galathynius, both of them drunk as shit. Fenrys, the quarterback of the football team with his charming smiles and bedroom eyes was the kind of guy Aelin Ashryver Galathynius would date.

Fenrys twisted in his seat to get a better look at the spawn of satan. She gave him an intimate, coy smile—the kind that you only reserve for some select few people. Rowan shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling like an intruder. He coughed loudly. "If you are going to undress each other with your eyes, have the decency to find yourself a room."

Aelin's answering smile was full of fire—wicked, dangerous wildfire. "Jealous, Whitethorn?"

Rowan scoffed, wishing he had the power to make her choke on air with one look. He had to be in some mood today. Thank the three faced goddess that Lorcan was absent today. Rowan knew Lorcan would give him an endless amount of shit if his best friend saw Rowan drive himself insane over childish, insolent, bratty Aelin Galathynius.

At least she and Fenrys were sitting two seats apart now, whispering quietly to each other. When five minutes passed and no teacher entered, Aelin rose from her seat and walked towards the window.

"What are you doing?" Rowan asked, then frowned. Maybe he shouldn't have spoken.

The expression on Aelin's face definitely told him he should not have spoken at all. She was smirking that obnoxious smirk of hers as she drawled out, "Not all of us are obedient little students, Whitethorn. See you around, preferably when you've grown some balls."

Rowan huffed. During his years in high school, he had always thought of Aelin as an arrogant, immature troublemaker. Now he could add rude to that list too.

Fenrys was already standing guard on the door. "Quick, Aelin! Mr Gavriel is going to come our way any minute."

Then Aelin turned, giving him a slow, simpering smile that clearly conveyed her thoughts about what she thought of his insistence to remain in detention. Scared, Whitethorn? And gods damn him, he was scared, not of being caught skipping but what an hour spent with Aelin might do to him. It was the challenge in those turquoises eyes, the taunt hidden behind her smile that had him rising from his seat.

She stepped back, letting him jump out of the window first. He was wondering if he should extend a hand to help or not when she leaped out with a grace he had never known she possessed.

Aelin was grinning, wider than ever and this may be the worst idea he had ever had but Rowan asked, "Where to?"

When the blonde haired girl straightened, shoulders pulled back and confident like a Queen, he decided that even if this was as likely to end in disaster as anything else, Rowan knew he owed it to himself to find out.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

I am not sure if I should finish this here. If enough people want to read further, I might turn this into a multi chapter fic so feel free to drop your thoughts on that in the comments! Also, if anyone would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

Tags:

@thesirenwashere

@judexcardanxgreenbriar

@the-dark-swan

@fangirltrash74

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sugoi-writes · 5 years ago

Note

I love that you're into bnha now! May i request some kirishima with a female s/o that just adores his shorp teeth? Or just complimenting/ worshipping him in general bc god does he deserve the world 👏😭

This one is a little long winded too, but agh! I couldn’t help but set up a cute date! He is baby, and must be protected at all costs! Hope you enjoy, Anon!

Summary: Kirishima comes over for a cute stay-at-home date, and the both of you have a sweet toothed surprise! (~1.6 K words)

9 times out of 10, you expect the days spent with your boyfriend to orient around food. He would admit that he was a SUCKER for eating out hibachi style or having you cook for him! But while his favorites usually gravitated towards the savory/meatier things in life, he also had an adorable sweet tooth. So, when he recommended chocolate covered strawberries for the next date, you made sure to pick some up when you went grocery shopping.

You invited him over, as usual, as his place was a little on the smaller side. When you find your boyfriend at the front door, beaming with boba for the both of you, you couldn’t help but reach out and plant sweet kisses on his cheeks.

“Eiji~ You shouldn’t have!” you coo, appreciating the thoughtfulness as you welcome your boyfriend inside. He returns your kisses soon after, chuckling as you cling to him once more.

“Well, I figured a little spoiling was in order~ You rented that movie last week, so I wanted to surprise--” His gaze wandered to your kitchen island, where he spies chocolate (milk, dark, and white cocoa), skewers, and of course-- strawberries!

“H-Hey! Is that…?” Kirishima trails off, a crooked smile spreading across his face. You take your boba and nod enthusiastically, taking a sip before humming in approval.

“Well, I happened to take your suggestion to heart, and wanted to surprise you~”

As you grin up at him, Kirishima can’t help but bring a hand up to cradle a flushed cheek, shaking his head softly,” Gosh, why are you the best!” he sighed happily, looping an arm around you and squeezing you close. You could only laugh happily while Kirishima showered you with kisses and thank you’s.

Once your chuckle fit died down, Kirishima pinches your cheek sweetly,” Anyway~ while you finish up your boba, want me to help you set up? I mean-- if you wanna go ahead and make some of the strawberries nooooow?”

You smile up to Kirishima, nodding once more,” That’s the plan~ I got a couple of different kinds of chocolate too, so feel free to mix and match!” Your boyfriend smiles-- AGAIN, you’re the most thoughtful s/o ever!-- and gives you a quick smooch, before practically running over to your island.

As you two continue to sip on your drinks, you explain to him that it’ll be easiest to microwave the chocolate and dunk the strawberries on your skewers (lucky you that they had some pretty decent microwave-safe chocolate). You personally went for the milk chocolate instantly, and you’re surprised that Kirishima chose the white chocolate. And so, you had both chocolates ready while Kiri washed off and skewered the strawberries.

Your boyfriend is all too eager to start dunking the strawberries, even taking some of the chocolate to drizzle over top one of yours! While playing with drizzles, you ended up messing one of yours up, turning it into a smiley face. This sparks an idea, as you look to each other mischievously. You two ended up competing to see who could make the silliest design, and Kirishima easily won with his wonky rendition of Bakugou.

As you let the chocolate cool, you notice Kiri going for a plain strawberry, chomping on it enthusiastically. You smile to yourself, chuckling at the sight. He had a bit of chocolate smudged on his cheek, undoubtedly from a dunking mishap. But you also noticed your man’s teeth, as brilliant and sharp as ever as it tore through the strawberry. You mused to yourself that he never complained about toothaches or cavities, no doubt because of how much he cared for his smile.

Kiri noticed your gaze, cheeks flushing slightly as he instinctively touches his face,” Ahh, wait, do I have some chocolate on my face?”

You laugh, licking your finger and swiping at the bit that was actually there,” W-Well yes, but-- I was just… y’know.” You couldn’t help but blush yourself, looking up to meet his gaze.

Kirishima smiles knowingly, eyebrows raised,” Ohhh, it’s the teeth thing again, yeah~?” he teases, lips pulling into a sly smirk. You pretend to protest as an arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, until your hip-to-hip.

You nod, knowing there’s no point in hiding it,” Y-Yeah… They’re just-- I dunno. Adorable, if that’s not-- uhh--” You stammer over your words, while Kirishima starts to wiggle his brow at you.

“Adorable, huh~? Y’sure you don’t mean hot~?” he presses, making your face turn bright red. You playfully elbow him in the side. He feigns pain and a pout as you shake your head quickly.

“ N-No! I mean-- not that they aren’t nice, but-- agh! I was thinking of how PRETTY your smile was, jerk!” you stammer, laughing at your own embarrassment.

“Pretty?” Kirishima echoes, as you nod back at him nervously. Your boba is long gone, so there was no distraction for you to take advantage of.

“Y-Yeah! Like, insanely pretty! Maybe that’s weird of me to say, but… I’ve always thought you were adorable, knucklehead! More than the muscles and the swagger you have,” you continue, the both of you snorting at ‘swagger’. You shrug, sighing softly,” You just… I dunno. You’re so adorable when you’re happy, and I love seeing you smile so genuinely like this… you’re so cute it makes me want to buy you more sweets~”

Eijiro shares your flustered expression, hand going to scratch at the back of his neck while he chuckles.

” Y-Yeah? I kinda always thought I was too manly or tough looking… A lot of people still get scared off by my quirk and how rough I look,” he admits, and you notice him briefly touching his face, where a few new scars have sprung up from the past few brawls. Kirishima was definitely never above a good fight, but sometimes even he gets dinged up from scuffles with his peers or villains. You smile warmly, snuggling into Eijiro’s wide, welcoming chest. Kirishima only blushes harder, coming to circle your frame with his large arms.

“Well… I think your scars are cute too. I mean-- they all tell a story. And I love that you feel comfortable sharing those with me… like this one!” Your fingers gently brush by his right eye, landing on his cheek,” When you first found out about your quirk… or this one!”

You point to another scar, by the bridge of his nose,” You and Bakugo got into it, and he somehow got through! You were so impressed, but you still ended up with a stalemate!”

As you babble about more of his scars, on his face, hands, and chest, Kirishima can’t help but smile lovingly down at you, running his fingers through your hair. As you touch one of his scars by his collarbone, you pause, looking up to see Eijiro looking at you with pure adoration.

“You remembering what all of these are, and how important or insignificant they all are… that’s so amazing. That’s only part of the reason why I love you so much, you know that?” You blush back at him, as Kirishima finishes another strawberry, his hands landing on your hips.

“ These eyes… They remind me of how we first met, and how neither of us could look away,” he coos, his hand brushing against your cheek. His smile widens as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Your hair? Absolutely fantastic to play with! It’s even cuter when I do this~” Eijiro teases, ruffling your hair and making you huffy. You seem to ease up as he kisses your cheeks, his hand cradling the small of your back as the other traces down your right arm. His hand grasps yours, pulling it to his lips for a chaste kiss.

“And these hands… the amount of things they’ve touched, held… saved… I wanna cherish them. As much as you’ve cherished me with them.” Kirishima pulls you flush against him in a warm hug, resting his chin on top of your head,” ‘you okay with that, babe~?”

You can’t help but smile sheepishly, covering your face as Kirishima kisses the top of your head,” A-As long as I get to cherish you, just the same!” You pull back to give him a sweet kiss, before grinning,” Agh, Eiji, that was so so sweet! I could eat you up!”

Kirishima laughs as you start assaulting his neck with kisses, squeezing your hips as he gently pulls you off. You see that knowing smile again, and stiffen when he gives you that look,” ...only if I get a lick in or two on you~”

Kirishima leans down and nibbles on the crook of your neck, making you squeak as you try to wiggle away. You end up taking a swipe of some semi-liquid chocolate and smear it across his cheek, distracting him enough for you to start tickling him. As you start to torment and love on one another, your laughter fills your kitchen. In this time, your dorky strawberries have had the perfect chance to fully cool. And this, you think, is the start of a perfect day, with one of the sweetest guys you have ever known.

#kirishima x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #x reader fanfic #bnha #fluffy fluff #anon ask #fic request #sorry if this is a little ehh #I was inspired so quickly so I have no idea if this is good or not #I JUST #HES BABY #CHERISH AND LOVE THE BABY???#hes also a good boy and will cherish you back uwu

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anteroom-of-death · 5 years ago

Text

Life, for Dummies p1

a/n: plz love me and go easy. i haven’t written anything since dodos were alive....

You were new to the “fam”. The Doctor picked you up randomly like a stray. Not that you minded most days. It felt like transfering to a school in March: the middle of the semester. And much like high school, friends groups were already formed. Hell, you couldn’t believe that Yaz and the Doc weren’t slamming each other against the walls and making out running down corridors and such.

Graham especially treated you well. Like a pottering but wicked smart granddad. Ryan too, you could bond over basketball and other fun stuff. But still. A second out of step. Any time you had these thoughts, you shoved it down and cursed not totally growing out of your middle school “I’m not like other girls!” mindset. Which, what the fuck? You were a grown ass woman.

“Y/N?” the Doctor said waving a hand in front of you, snapping you from your reverie as you came to the present. You are on Gallifrey and there’s some psycho of the week- named the Master looking ferally at you all like he was planning what bathtub you’d wake up in with a kidney missing. You totally zoned out. The Wii Mii music might as well be what plays when you enter a room.

Shaking yourself you tried to size up the current threat. So- this is where the Doctor’s from? No bad considering it looked like a mix between Dresden after the bombing and Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It had lots of open fields. Big skies. Plenty of sunlight from two burning suns so no “When the street lights kick on, you come back in!” The image of a tiny little blonde baby-Doc bobbing around chasing space fireflies was cute.

Damn reveries.

“Be afraid Doctor!” He said five minutes earlier.

How could anyone be afraid of that. Sure when swapping past stories they told you he was crazy and killed people. The grunting he made coming through the portal was not something fearful. They were oddly sexual. The Doctor’s greatest enemy? Was right before you?

“I should have had more coffee!” You whined under your breath. Honestly. All this running, you didn’t know if you needed to mainline Folger’s or get one of those dorky water packs suburban white dads had for hiking.

This fucker grinned at that. “You’re funny!” He giggled pointing at you. Figures he had like, super sonic hearing. “You didn’t tell me you had funny little humans with you this time!”

“Hilarious dude! Can you even reach the shelves in the grocery store?” It was a pithy attempt at humor. The man had no right calling humans small.

He laughed and looked like he was debating killing you. He gave a resounding twirlin’ and then went onto monologue as if he were written by Joss Wheden. Mainly at the Doctor. But he kept glancing over at you. Yaz and Ryan were obviously acting on primal instinct of figuring how to take the Master down and Graham looked half bored. They’d met him before. Graham looked like he was just waiting for it to be done. Graham was chill. Reliable. He didn’t fly off the handle as much as the rest of you all. He was older. He was one margarita away from becoming a Parrothead. You liked that.

The Master’s glances felt disarming. Like he’d already seen you without your clothing. Not that it felt like a bad thing. He wasn’t unattractive as far as aliens went. Actually, kind of hot. The kind of hot you’d go for if it wasn’t for the fact he was massively evil, tried to kill all humans, and is currently being a bastard to your close friends. Something unique about his clapping. You did that when you were over excited.

He was dashing.

His eyes were large and just drew you in, mentally you knew every time he glanced over. Like he wanted to let you know it was for you and you alone. And he was fit, still soft. Something about the soft jaw, slight roundness to thighs and slight slouch of the tummy. The swagger and toothy grins? His skin looked soft and nice too. Crazy fashion sense. Maybe the inability to dress yourself was a Time Lord thing?

G-d, those lips, so round and full and a nice color. You shoved a thought about, other parts being that color away. Were you really here, having a team huddle, imagining the evil bad man’s cock? Desperation, party of one. You hadn’t been laid in a long time, but really?

“Y/N!” Yaz asked as you looked over and the Master smirked directly at you, like he knew you were trying to picture his cock at that moment. “What do you think?”

You groaned, “I don’t know!” your voice peaked a hoarse few octaves. The Master had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even touch you.

“He seems mega powerful.” You throw your hands out to exaggerate. He turned and pointed you out, “You have no idea what powers I have.”

“Man, shut the fuck up, or I’m gunna hit you.” You said plainly. Your eyes rolled back into your skull. You were suddenly your normal self again. He was just some dude, like any you’d see on the streets trying to undermine your confidence or get you to give him the time of day.

“No you won’t.” And he was right.

So you all just followed the lead of your fearless leader, the Doctor…

_________________________3 Weeks Later __________________________

You were back home. It was Corona Time. And definitely not the fun kind. You were worried absolutely sick. Was the Doctor alive? What about Gallifrey? What was all of that? So many questions raced through your quarantined mind. That and a few errant daydreams about the Master taking you with what you assumed had to be a massive cock. What was that overused phrase you’d seen the internet use? Big Dick Energy? The man had got to have had a set of cojones on him for the amount.

You couldn’t shake that son of a bitch from your mind.

He was hauntingly attractive. But evil. You were in a moral panic 24/7. You felt like those soulfully pained eyes followed you around your house all the time.

You were trying to focus on finding work from home jobs that were legitimate. You gave up your career to run around and play 5th wheel and now you were paying. Shelter inside? More like buying lots of unneeded skincare to fill a new void in you.

You were just ready to click “apply” on Indeed when those asthmatic engine noises started pounding in your yard. Was that the Doctor? Saving you from going insane and buying the 200 plus dollars in your cart on DHC’s webstore.

No, you didn’t see a kitschy blue box, but a stately match for your shed, but nicer.

Who should appear? But the rat bastard himself.

Boy, you were so screwed.

Suddenly he smiled politely and waved at you through the window. He pointed at your back door and was asking to be let in.

Cautiously you opened the window. “Go away, Master.”

“Is that polite to say? I’m your first visitor in weeks and you shove me-” He faux-shocked put his hand over his mouth “away?” You couldn’t tell if he was faking being insulted or for reals.

“I’d shove Timmy down a well if he killed my best friend and all her people.”

“Let me in, I just want to talk.” He opened his hand like he was caught red handed.

You slammed the window down harder than probably recommended. You felt the slam’s noise in your jaw. He’d get the message maybe. Or maybe you’d let him in and pin his ass to the living room carpet. Choices, choices. You went back and clicked ‘place order’, your bank account app dinged and said you had less than fifty dollars left. No one was going nowhere so it didn’t matter. You finished your tea in a few gulps. You made your choice.

Opening up the window, you shouted “Take off your jacket and place all of your weapons and your TARDIS key on the patio. Shoes too. Toss them into the Rose of Sharon.” You’d be damned if he was gonna kill you in your own house, surrounded by your own possessions, in your own damn town.

“What’s a Rose of Sharon Y/N?” He asked, genuinely confused. “It’s the dead bush that’s claimed the entire ramp up to my patio…” Sighing you pointed at it.

He giggled and obliged.

Always giggling.

He knocked as you were rooting for your sharpest whatever you could find. You opened the door and ushered him in. Almost comically, you began patting him down and weidling your weapon of choice. Excellent ass, you had to admit. Soft, yet firm.

“Having a good feel, love?” He asked as you were admiring it.

“Hey, you never know…” You off-brand sighed. He was nice to touch. It was addictive.

He paced around your home, looking at the photos of you and your family. The stack of bills in boxes, your life. Like he was examining art in a museum.

“I don’t appreciate you fondling my fruit.” You said when he’d made his way into your kitchen.

He grinned, “Isn’t it customary for you humans to offer a beverage or a snack to guests?”

Massaging your temples you handed him one of those nutri grain granola bars that crumble everywhere and a can of Coke.

“Not very much, huh?”

“There's a pandemic out there you dense motherfucker!” You shouted almost singing the words “pandemic” and “motherfucker”, throwing your arms upwards for examples.

You felt like you could swear around him. With the rest of your current social circle you felt like there was a PG-13 limit to your speech.

“Forgive me.” He rolled his eyes. Tit for tat matching you. He leaned heavy on his seat and opened up the can and drank politely. You almost believed him

“So why are you here?” sitting down across from him cracking your finger joints and wrists out of habit. “Run out of people to piss off in space?”

“Oh, always plenty there.”

You snorted.

“You seem very sure of yourself. Different from her other little pets.” He said. “Or, is it just a show…” He bore directly into your soul. “I’d believe it.” You glared at him, still holding your weapon, sure it wasn’t much. But to quote a legend “That’s my purse, I don’t know you!”

“You know what they say when you assume…” You put it out there.

“I don’t know!” He fumed on a hairpin notice. “Something about a donkey!”

“Relax, Jeeze.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

He grinned that megawatt, perfectly white smile with teeth better than most Hollywood actors.

“You’re bored.” He observed.

“I’ve been confined in my house for three weeks.” You stated.

“What if...you weren’t.” He weighed the words out. Almost physically with his hands. G-d those hands. How soaked in blood were they? But how dexterous were they? You swatted away thoughts of how nice they’d be buried in you, “Oy, gevalt!” You said. Noticing you had been staring at his fingertips for a second too long…

“You seem distracted...Is it me? Is the Doctor’s little pet wanting to try out some real leadership?” He mocked, but there was some other little tone to it. Care? Amusement? Yearning? A combination of all four? Who knows. You didn’t.

His eyes had the most whimsical gorgeous glow, and his eyelashes had the most attractive flutter.

“Ya caught me!” You barked with all the false sarcasm you could feign.

“Oh, I promise that I won’t blow up any planets, kick any orphans, wreck a ship carrying puppies and kittens for adoption... I’ll just show you the real way to see the stars. None of that running through corridors and fighting for your life. The way it should be seen.” He said, his nice waistcoat coated in crumbs.

“Or are you a coward? Afraid to see the other side of the coin? Y/N.” You were inherently a little bit of a coward. He crooked a crooked grin.

You pondered and helped yourself to an apple. Hoping that he’d see your teeth and that’d be another layer of “Don’t fuck with me, Please!” Though you desperately almost craved to be fucked with at this point.

You pause and consider this, is it betrayal? To follow your instincts and go off with a literal madman instead of your new “fam” because and called you on your self-sure bullshit?

“Is she alive? Is the Doctor alive?” You pleaded. A bit of tears threatening to come up.

“Yes, of course.” He assured you. It was very comforting. He slowly grabbed at your hand. “I may not be a man of a lot of truths, but I’ll tell you this. She always somehow comes out on top. It’s frustrating.” The warmth was real in his voice and in his eyes.

You closed your eyes and willed yourself sane. But the little nagging at your core said to. Give in, give up. Go with him.

“‘Kay.” You nodded. Suddenly sullen. “I’ll go.” The smile you gave was tired and you got up. You were almost shaking. He touched you and you came undone. This was not healthy. You’d blame the self-isolation, but deep down you knew it went deeper. Your jaw was trembling a bit. Self-preservation was gone.

You screwed yourself up again and poked a finger on his chest. “Try anything funny that gets me killed and I’m stabbing you.”

“No, you won’t.” This time, it was an order. An order wrapped in velvet and coated in chocolate.

You turned to go pack and he grabbed at your wrist. “No, you don't need that. I got a wardrobe department worthy of choice.” He grabbed at his shirt and brandished his look.

“Fine.” You said. So tired, but feeling more alive than you had in years at once.

Grabbing your hand and all his stuff out of your yard he pulled you into his TARDIS and it left. Off to the next….

#personal #i wrote this #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #reader insert #doctor who #doctor who self insert fiction #fanfic #yes my life is a wreck #im a mess and i want to die a bit

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