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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years ago

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Frowned Upon

June Drabbles 2022 Days 23 & 24 - Buttons & Pearls

A/N: I have been wanting to challenge myself to write a drabble a day for a whole month for quite some time now, and I finally decided to just go for it. The goal is to fill every prompt on this list by @creativepromptsforwriting with a short one shot (500 - 2k words) by the end of June. Can I do it? I do not know. But let’s find out! - HAHAHA the answer, as we have come to find out, is no, I cannot. But I am not letting failure stop me, because I, my friends, am stubborn. After this one there are 6 to go (I’m doubling up a few of the remaining prompts to get through them... and because they fit well together) and then it’s back to the stories I’ve been neglecting for far too long, I promise. Speaking of wips I’ve been neglecting... this one goes along with the things I’ve written for Recall, and is the last “teaser” before the main story starts, which means I no longer have an excuse not to move my ass with that story and get it written. Writing for Jack just makes me nervous!!

Word Count: 2,195

Warning: language, brief mention of gunshots, injury and death, steamy thoughts that don’t belong in the boardroom or maybe they do.

Summary: Jack Daniels didn’t get promoted to Senior Agent at Statesman for nothing. He’s one of the agency's most dedicated operatives, and has been for years. Which is precisely why he can’t let anything distract him from doing his job... unless it’s too late for that.

“Good morning, Agent Whiskey.”

Jack’s head swiveled in the direction of your voice to find you exiting the elevator to his right, his eyes drawn immediately to your cherry- red lips as his code name left them. Hot damn. His own lips quirked up, mustache twitching as he grinned and reached for his hat to remove it. “‘Mornin’, Maraschino.” He nodded before settling the black Stetson back on his head, pausing to let you fall into step with him. She is prettier than a picture.

He used the half-second it took you to reach his side to fully take you in. You had on your long white lab coat over a loose-fitting navy blouse, which you wore tucked into a pair of tan trousers that were held up by a soft brown leather belt to match your ankle boots. The only bit of jewelry you wore was a gossamer thin gold chain strung with round salt-water pearls that were spaced out by an inch or so, the necklace hanging low enough around your throat that it disappeared beneath the wide lapels of your shirt. Your hair was pulled neatly back and fastened in a tight bun at the nape of your neck to keep it off your shoulders and out of your way while you worked. In your arms you carried a touch screen tablet along with a few physical files, and with your glasses perched on your nose to frame your sharp eyes you looked every bit the part of your new role alongside Ginger Ale on the medical research team. And smart as a hard crackin’ whip to boot.

It had been a long time since Jack let himself be drawn to anyone for longer than a night - a few hours, really, the time of day didn’t matter much, so long as he was off-duty. But since meeting you last year upon his return from a stint in the New York office, he couldn’t deny the way your smile pulled at his own. Or the tug of your laughter on the stubborn muscle trapped in his chest. Reel it in, Daniels.

He knew he shouldn’t feed into his growing attraction to you. You weren’t an agent, so it wasn’t outright forbidden for the two of you to become involved in a relationship of any kind outside of Statesman, but the rules for interdepartmental fraternizing were slightly foggy. They stated that no one in the organization should form a relationship that could potentially get in the way of their job performance. Agents were often paired on missions depending on what specific skills were needed to complete them, meaning that there were no permanently assigned partners. Though a large majority of those missions went as smoothly as they were meant to, there was always some level of risk involved, always the slim chance that something could go awry and lead to an operative being injured, captured or killed. Hell, you don’t make it to Senior Agent without at least two of those things happening, and I’ve technically had all three.

Thanks to the Alpha Gel technology, Statesman saw very few irreversible deaths, but the fact that there was still a chance that agents could die in the line of duty meant that romantic involvement between them stood as a threat to the integrity of the mission at hand. Agents were expected to follow protocol down to the punctuation to complete the initiative, even if that meant leaving their fallen partner behind. It was harsh, but it was what they had been trained to do, and having been on both sides of that coin through the years, Jack understood why Champ had drawn such a hard line when it came to agents dating one another.

But scheduling? Medical research and development? Day-to-day employees of the distillery? So long as there was no interference for either party when it came to doing what they’d been hired to do, and so long as they didn’t use classified information to advance the other’s position in the organization, there were no strict rules against agents being involved with members of the lab team. In fact, interdepartmental dating was preferred over forming relationships with civilians - no cause for concern over confidential information falling into unqualified hands that way. On paper, if Jack wanted to get close to anyone, you were the perfect candidate. That doesn’t mean I should, though.

With only one serious relationship under his belt - one that still devastated him some twenty odd years later - he wasn’t sure if he was capable of starting something that he would be able to curtail enough to effectively do what was required of him. He wasn’t sure if he could stay level headed with a gun to his head if he knew he had you to come home to. And a relationship like that would be… frowned upon.

Ignoring the warning that he issued himself whenever you were close, he walked with you down the hall towards the boardroom and Champ’s office, your sweet citrus and honeysuckle perfume filling his nose. “What brings you to this neck of the woods, doc?” He used one hand to point at the things you carried, the other going to his hip just above where his lasso hung in a coil. “Ginger got you runnin’ errands instead of experiments?”

You let out a short laugh and scrunched your face. “Little bit of both, actually.” You lifted the files. “Champ needs to sign off on these to clear Vermouth and Absinthe to return to the field.” He hummed - both Agents had been hurt on their latest mission, Vermouth needing extensive surgery on his shoulder and Absinthe requiring the aid of the nano-technology in Alpha Gel to repair a bullet wound to her head. “And I also need him to approve my research on memory restoration.” You wet your lips and continued, clearly proud of the work you were hoping to be able to do. “I think I found a way to improve memory recall in Agents who have had to use the Gel multiple times.” Like me. “I think we can make it faster and less… traumatic.”

His eyebrows jumped up under the brim of his hat. “Well, as someone who’s had his noggin’ blown open more than once, I can tell you that would be a welcome development.”

You cleared your throat, frowning slightly at his words. “I hope so. I know he’s got a briefing with all of you right now, but I figured I could wait for him, catch him as he comes back from that and maybe get him while he’s in a good mood.”

Before he had time to retract his statement regarding how many times he’d been reawakened in Ginger’s lab, the two of you had reached the end of the hallway and the two doors that you were headed for. Not that it’s a secret, she’s seen my file. But despite knowing that he and a handful of others in the agency had clinically died in the line of fire, that knowledge seemed to weigh on you more heavily than it did on Ginger or Champ or even Whiskey himself. He wanted to reassure you that all agents knew what they signed up for when they took their code names, that it wasn’t a secret that their jobs involved danger. Instead, he opted for chivalry and simply opened the door leading to Champ’s office.

“Lemme get that for you.” You thanked him as his hand curled around the thick bronze handle and pulled, two more agents walking behind him and making for the door opposite the one he held open. “See you in a minute Tequila, Moonshine.” He nodded over his shoulder to his associates who acknowledged him with a nod, and then turned back to you, your face turned up to him and a smile back on your bright red lips. Damn, she’s gonna make this hard, isn’t she? He swallowed, jaw ticking as he did, and then gave you a smile of his own. “Good luck with your pitch, Maraschino. I hope he gives you the green light.” You deserve it.

“Thanks, Agent.” You wrapped your fingers around the edges of the files that you held. “I’ll see you around.” With that, you headed into Champ’s office, stopping by his secretary’s desk to touch base with her, Jack keeping his eyes on you until the door shut again.

Across the narrow hall, the other door swung open, Tequila sticking his head out, a shit-eating grin the likes of which only he could wear stretching over his face. “You plan on joinin’ us anytime soon there, Whiskey? Or you just gonna flirt with Ginger’s new assistant all mornin’?”

“I am simply holding the door open for a lady, Tequila, or perhaps you forgot our motto?” He released his grip on the handle and turned to face the younger agent, crossing his arms over his chest. “Manners maketh man, remember?” Clicking his tongue, he tilted his head. “Maybe you skipped that day in trainin’, I seem to recall that you have a penchant for partying and-”

“Shit, I was just teasin’, Agent,” the other man said with a chuckle. “Don’t get your whip twisted.”

Grumbling something under his breath about twisting his whip around Tequila’s neck, he followed his occasional partner into the boardroom where Champ and the other Statesman agents who were present at the Kentucky location were seated at the long wooden table. He took his spot near the head, where a thick leather bound portfolio sat waiting for him with the details of the next mission he’d be sent on - he would be partnering with Merlot this time, according to the first page. But as the meeting got underway, Jack found himself unable to focus entirely on what was being discussed, distracted by thoughts he knew he shouldn’t be having. Curling his hand into a loose fist, he brought it up in front of his mouth, absently biting the side of his knuckle in hopes that those thoughts would subside so that he could dedicate himself to what was happening in the room.

“Glasses, Whiskey.” Champ’s gruff voice came from behind him, a gnarled hand clapped to the soft brown patch on Jack’s shoulder to remind him to don the eyewear that would connect him to the agents elsewhere in the world - Brandy and Schnapps, as well as Olive, Ginger’s counterpart in London, Curaçao in New York, and Mezcal who was currently in Tokyo.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out the pair of black rimmed glasses and slid them on, blinking to activate the projected holographic representations of those missing from the room. But even as he listened to what was being said about the upcoming missions - he and Merlot were being sent to infiltrate a casino that was being used to launder large amounts of drug money - Jack was only half-way present. He had other things on his mind that had nothing to do with his next target and everything to do with you.

Like the way it would feel to let you pull at the knot in his tie or undo the buttons of his shirt so that your palms could slide over the skin of his chest. The way it would feel to let his own rope roughened fingers roll the smooth, off-white gems on your chain between them. How you would look wearing only that necklace, its length hanging low between your breasts. Or perhaps how you’d look wearing the shirt you’d just taken off of him, the hem trailing down to your knees and the cuffs rolled up so that they didn’t cover your hands, the buttons left unfastened so that he could still see your body between the open sides. He was just getting around to wondering what you’d sound like moaning his name - his real name, not his Statesman alias - when that same moniker rang through the room in a tone that couldn’t be more different than yours.

“Are you with us, Agent Whiskey? Or do I need to send you down to Ginger for a check-up?”

He snapped his head up to find several pairs of eyes on him, Champ’s narrowed and regarding Jack closely as the older man sniffed the cigar in his hand. Fuck. “No sir. My head’s just fine.” This is why I can’t… why I shouldn’t get involved with her. “Apologies, Champ. I’m lookin’ forward to gettin’ out there with Merlot again.” He nodded towards the woman seated across the table and diagonally to his left, and she returned the acknowledgement before flicking her eyes back down to the open portfolio in front of her. Shit. I should - He looked down at the still shut booklet and flipped it open to find the information he should have been reading all along. Clearing his throat, he frowned, turning his attention to the material before him, Champ resuming the briefing and walking the agents through their various assignments.

Reel it in, Daniels. He sighed, turning the page to a blueprint of the casino he and Merlot would be working in. Reel it way the fuck in.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know or you can fill out the form on my masterlist.

tags: @something-tofightfor @paracosmenthusiast @cannedsoupsucks @dihra-vesa @disgruntledspacedad @littlemisspascal @hellovanessax @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharrassed @woodlandmouth @swtaura @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80

#jack 'whiskey' daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x female reader #jack daniels x female reader #jack 'whiskey' daniels x you #pedrostories #jack 'whiskey' daniels x reader #jack daniels kingsman #jack daniels recall #june drabbles 2022 #day 23 & day 24- buttons & pearls #frowned upon

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theabominable · 3 years ago

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Request , one shot!

Diluc has had a slight crush on the reader who was homeless. He gave them a bed at the winery and a job cleaning up late at the tavern. So he can ways walk them from and too work, not wanting them to be jumped by treasure hoarders or the abyss. But Kaeya has began to take a liking to her, coming in late some nights to drink and chat her up as she works. Diluc finally decides to confess to her at the winery one night, after Kaeya walked her there instead of him since Diluc was working late.

He goes to her room as shes getting ready for bed and confesses to her. If she accepts it, you can choose!

But if she does reject him, please give me her showing up at Kaeya's home , crying and upset because she didn't want to hurt Diluc.

==》》 KEEP YOU ALL TO MYSELF || DILUC . R

"i've been thinking, y/n.. i know you are capable of looking after yourself, but you cannot live like this anymore."

you sniff as diluc wraps a bandage around your wounded leg. you're sitting on a stool at the tavern, diluc crouched down by your legs. the tavern is empty, and all that can be heard is you sighing in pain, and diluc quietly muttering to you.

diluc suddenly looks up to you, your eyes meeting. he usually avoids eye contact with everyone he knows, but at this moment - he's looking into your eyes so fondly you wonder if he's about to kiss you or drop a bombshell on you - something he's always doing during these kinds of moments.

"y/n. come and live with me."

you raise your eyebrows in surprise. you had always thought diluc had hated people entering his house - kaeya being a prime example - yet he was offering some vigilante/traveller he barely knew to stay in his own home.

he flushes a little at your reaction, quickly looking down.

"...not permanently of course. just until you get yourself sorted out.."

you open your mouth to speak, but diluc interrupts you.

"don't even think about declining. you are not physically well.. i could tell you were going to leave this wound until tomorrow, and go to sleep on an empty stomach. so please, let your guard down just this once , and let me and my staff look after you for a short while."

you smile warmly at him, almost reaching out to hold his face in thankfulness, but you stop yourself and whisper,

".. i cannot thank you enough diluc. you must be sent by the archons!.. you are always there in my times of need.. how could i pay you in return?"

"there is no need for you to-"

"wait.. i can help you out at the tavern in the evening! charles is on vacation at the minute, isn't he? please, let me help you!"

diluc's breath hitched.

he knew of many people who visited the tavern regularly in the evening, and a couple who he knew would get along with you so well.

maybe even better than him. he wanted to keep your company all to himself, he only got through his days by thinking about your late-night meetups to protect the city - you were the darknight heroes - he couldn't afford for you to be snatched away from him now.

and yet he ignored his selfish, selfish inner thoughts and smiled at you.

"of course, i would be delighted with your help."

"wait.. really? you actually tricked him into turning himself in?" you gasp.

diluc ragnvindr walks into the tavern, hair messy from the wind. he could re-tie his ponytail if he wanted, but he thought about you running his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back into a ponytail and pulling out his bangs. he liked it better when you did it.

yet instead of you instantly rushing over to him and fussing about his hair and the leaves in his coat, his eyes swivel over to a tipsy kaeya boasting about another one of his over-the-top stories, and a giggling venti leant over the bar counter. you're drying a wine glass, deep in one of kaeya's obviously fake stories. no way he caught 5 wanted criminals all at the same time and made them turn themselves in.

you notice diluc is at the door.

"ah, diluc! you're here!"

you walk over to him, handing the wine glass and tea towel to him, and taking off your apron.

"okay, my shift is over, i'm going home. have fun you guys!" you say, smiling and waving at your latest friends, kaeya and venti.

they had both been eyeing you for a while, curious about diluc's attractive and kind-hearted new housemate, and finally struck up a conversation with you.

"why, master diluc, did you never tell us you had such a delightful housemate?" kaeya says, side-eyeing diluc with a glint in his eye.

"yeaaahh..diluc. you scored a beauty!" venti hiccups.

diluc bites his tongue. he knew you would meet them eventually, he knew he could not keep you to himself forever.

he ignores them both and turns to you.

"will you be okay? would you like me to get someone to walk you home? i heard there are a few treasure hoarders roaming around windrise, would you like me to-"

"..diluc. you know i can handle myself, i have a vision too you know." you pat the shiny electro vision hung on your coat.

"master diluc - if it worries you so much, how about i escort the lively miss/mister y/n?" kaeya says, setting down a wine bottle on the counter.

diluc's heart starts to pound, not out of nervousness but annoyance. he knows kaeya is not the type to try anything funny, yet just the thought of you and kaeya walking laughing together makes him sick to his stomach. he desperately wants to tell you how untrustworthy kaeya is, he desperately wants to grab your wrist and walk you home himself,

but before he can say anything,

"i'd like that kaeya! maybe you can finish off that story?! what did acting grand master do to them?"

diluc almost wants to scream in frustration. you're too friendly sometimes.

kaeya is getting up and putting on his coat, a smug smile plastered on his face. diluc can't tell if kaeyas interest in you is genuine or if he's only being so friendly to push diluc's buttons.

"aren't you drunk? wouldn't it be better if you waited until albedo came by to pick you up? as he does every night when you get blackout drunk?" diluc says bitterly.

"awh, master diluc, are you worried about me?" kaeya says sarcastically, almost out the door. "i think venti is the one you should be more worried about."

as diluc quickly turns to look at venti - who is now behind the bar and reaching for another bottle of wine inside a staff only cabinet - you and kaeya slip out the door, leaving diluc all alone with an unfamiliar feeling of anxiousness collecting at the bottom of his stomach, and an absolutely hammered bard.

diluc ragnvindr takes in one last huff of the cold air as he opens the door to dawn winery, the only thought on his mind being whether you got safe home or not.

he rushes to your room, ignoring the maids welcoming him back.

he had to work even later than usual, after venti had refused to go home after the tavern closed; making diluc give him a piggyback ride to his little apartment.

he knocks on the door, biting his lip nervously. what if kaeya had tried anything funny? what if he had told you something he shouldn't have? what if your whole perception of diluc had changed? what if you weren't even IN the room?

a tired voice opens the door,

"oh, diluc! i've been waiting for you! did you get home safe?" your face lights up when you see him.

diluc walks into your room, looking for any sign of kaeya or anyone stepping foot in there.

"diluc.. you can't just barge into here.. are you okay? you look pale.."

you brush his bangs out of his eyes.

his gaze on you lingers a little too long, and an awkward silence fills the small space between your faces.

you burn up a little and take dilucs hand, and sit him in your chair in front of your mirror. you're going to do his hair, just like you used to when you first moved in with him.

you undo his messy ponytail, brushing it with your own hairbrush and separating it into 3 sections.

"y/n.. did you have a good time with.. kaeya?"

"huh? oh.. yes. i did. he's really funny. he said he'd teach me that cool move you always do when you swing your claymore. you know, the one you refuse to teach me to do?" you softly laugh, beginning to braid his hair.

he can't tell whether you're smiling about kaeya or laughing about his joking refusal to teach you one of his moves. nevertheless, he smiles with you, just happy to be alone with you again.

"we talked about you the whole way, you know. i think he's quite fond of you. he knew a lot about you.. more than me!"

"what? you talked about me? i thought he was-" diluc holds his tongue. he acts too careless around you.

"you thought he was what?"

"i thought.. he was interested in you."

"what? you thought he was interested in me?"

you laugh, more loudly this time, as if it was the funniest thing you had heard all day.

"don't you know, diluc? kaeya has been dating chief alchemist albedo. for several weeks actually."

diluc's gasps. he's been so focused on thinking about you and his darknight hero duties - he usually doesn't miss crucial information like this - especially when it's about kaeya.

"and even if he was interested in me, there's no way i'd like him back."

you finish up the braid, tieing it with a little ribbon.

"my heart belongs to someone else."

his heart sinks, and he looks up at you in the mirror to see you smiling to yourself.

"who?"

you playfully push his shoulder.

"as if i'm telling you! you should go get something to eat, i'm getting tired." you say, quickly changing the subject

"wait, before i leave. y/n, may i ask for your advice?

"sure. on what?"

"there's someone i like."

you rest your hands on his shoulders and stare at him in shock.

"what?! THE cold, apathetic, bachelor diluc ragnvindr who i've never seen show romantic interest in anyone LIKES someone?"

diluc frowns.

"why are you so surprised? i experience everything the same as anyone else."

you sigh a little and put your arms around his neck as diluc stands. there's almost no space between your bodies - diluc may have combusted on the spot if you didn't distract him with your talking.

"diluc.. i won't ask you who it is but, if you ever get with them, it won't change anything between us? will it? we'll still be the darknight hero duo?" you whisper into his neck.

"..don't call it that." diluc puts his hands on your back. "..and i don't think you have anything to worry about, because the one i love, is you."

your soft breathing halts for a second, and you become stiff in his arms. diluc isn't sure whether he made the best decision of his life or if he just ruined everything.

you kiss him. you feel like liquid in his arms as your lips lock onto his, he can just about feel you escaping and leaving him, just like all the others do.

there is comfort in the kiss, though. a warm, delightful comfort that reminds diluc that he can let things go for once, and just savor the moment. wherever things go from here, he's not sure- but one thing he knows for sure is that you're not getting out of his grasp tonight.

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years ago

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y’all i cant stop thinking about this,,, i absolutely cannot stop thinking about it

so i present y’all with sum.....

✨sleepy bakugou hcs✨

- Q U I E T boy. ik ik ur like “bakugou? quiet? in the same sentence?”,, but here’s what im here to tell u,, it’s more likely then u think. mostly bc being snarky/angry all day has to be so exhAUSTING, so when bakugou crashes he crashes

-pls he’ll go from perfectly alert, sitting up ram-rod straight on the couch next to you, to slumping into the cushions with half-lidded eyes in all of 2.5 seconds

-like, he’ll ask u about ur day, right? and as soon s u answer he’ll lean back, close his eyes and just sit there and listen quietly to you speak,, little “mhm”’s and “you fuckin’ tell ‘em”’s are the only sign he’s listening (he is listening tho. bakugou almost never forgets anything u tell him,, even when he’s half asleep)

-oh my god and u cannot tell me this man doesn’t fight sleep. he does. every time. pls n he’s just fluttering his eyes, rubbing at them and trying to stay awake so he can hear you talk. and ur always like “you know, it’s okay, you can sleep. there’s always tomorrow.” n he’s just “no. finish the fuckin’ story. ‘m listenin’.”

-pls and one of the only fandom-wide bakugou hcs i whole-heartedly agree with is that he’s a cuddler. he is. 100% a physical guy at heart but only rlly allows himself to be behind closed doors (read: when it’s bedtime)

-so when he’s tired he’s very much a clinger. arms around your waist and hands slipping under your shirt. not even in like a 🥴 way, he’s not trying to start anything, bakugou just likes skin contact. probably likes how soft ur skin is against his calloused hands

-pls n he’s so blunt. i mean, he is all the time, but especially when he’s sleepy bc all the excess bite drains out of his voice. will 100% seriously just look at you and just flatly say “No.” when u tell him you’ve gotta get up

-ur like “hey, gotta brush my teeth first. then we can fall asleep.” n bakugou is like “No.” and ur like, “no, really. i feel gross.” n he’s just like “No.”

-100% will dig his face into your neck and just kinda doze. like, won’t fall fully asleep, but he’ll fade in and out and when he occasionally mumbles u can always feel it against ur skin

-probably feels like he somehow runs even ?hotter? when he’s tired. like, he always feels warmer than the average person, but when he’s sleepy man’s is literally radiating warmth

-probably doesn’t kiss you on the lips very much,, bc he’s wants to be fully awake for that and give you the effort you deserve,, but he will kiss your palm if u cradle his face. probably turns his head to the side rlly languidly, and still somehow blushes when he presses his lips to ur hand. (soft affection just flusters him, okay, especially on the rare occasion when he’s the one giving it instead of recieving)

-sleepy!bakugou is also probably the only bakugou who will let you fuss over him. like, every other time u even try he’ll bat your hands away and shrug u off, but when he’s tired he doesn’t fight it. he’ll let you ask your questions and fuss over his wounds and kiss his bruises without complaint

-pls don’t bring it up in the morning tho. it’ll embarrass him and it’ll be a very long time before he lets u fuss over him again

-and i mean, y’all have seen the gif, bakugou is big spoon. he is. almost every single time,,, but i also think he links ur hands together while doing so. so instead of an arm over ur waist,, he’ll sit it a little higher, just below ur ribs, so that when he pulls u in he can hold ur hand that’s tucked up by ur chest

-and on like, the off chance that he’s not big spoon,, mans is just laying directly on top of you. like, head on ur chest, one leg in between yours. only very occasionally tho

-pls he probably looks at you with such unguarded affection. usually he’ll try to hide it, but if everything is calm and quiet, late at night, bakugou will let it slip. his eyes are always half-lidded as he stares at you, tracking your moments intently, blinking slowly

-oo n tell me this man doesn’t talk in his sleep. he does. full sentences with swears. it’ll be like midnight and u feel his lips against ur bare shoulder, and when u listen he’s just “fuckin- i said stop. i’ll smoke you. Fuckin’ bitch.”

-probably dreams a lot. which means he twitches and flutters his eyelashes and jerks randomly between different stages of sleep

-oh my god and bc i can’t stop myself here’s a list of actions (that u do) that i just know would put bakugou right tf to sleep

1.) playing with his hair. more specifically tho,, gently brushing the hair back from around his ears and forehead

2.) massaging his arms. u cannot tell me this man’s arms aren’t sore,, i mean,, have u seen his quirk?? the recoil/strain is severe. so when he comes home from a tough mission, where he over-exerted himself like always, bakugou’s arms are literally a coiled mess of knots. but all u gotta do is start working at them and then he is an absolute puddle under your fingers

3.) braiding your hair in front of him. i cant explain this one i just kno he’s the type to sit there and watch u do it, and he just finds the methodical aspect of it so calming and almost hypnotic to watch

4.) giving him any sort of warm drink. no, literally, he’s a simple dude. all it takes is a warm drink and somewhere soft to lay n he’s ready to pass tf out

-oh my god and hear me out, if ur a pro-hero too,, and y’all are coming back from a mission at night??? pls he’d actually be so cute for once

-i’m talking very much him nearly falling asleep in the shower and then dragging you to bed with him. and he’s falling asleep, just on the verge of it, and he’ll just “did good today, dumbass. fuckin’ killed ‘em real good. looked hot.” and then he’s dead to the world. completely unconcious

—/—

haha here’s a shameless dump of fluff bc as much as i write about him being a little asshole,, bakugou is also a sweetie. sometimes. mostly when he keeps his mouth shut

also lmao,, i’ve been cleaning out my drafts/asks today,, can u guys tell?? ahahaha soz for what probably feels like an absolute spam of content but i simply cannot stop

#bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fic #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #mha fic #bakugou hcs #bakugou headcanons

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amane-by-together · 3 years ago

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Okay idea!!

How about a Hanako x tsundere reader oneshot where Yashiro tells Hanako that the reader likes him and he likes her too. He confronts her about it and she is a blushing mess but denies it. Hanako knows that she likes him so he pins her and kisses her until she says she loves him.

Like *kiss* “say you love me~”

“No meanie..!”

Heehee, I hoped I explained that well enough… a little fluffy and spicy plzzz

Blushing Mess || Hanako-kun

genre: fluff

pairing: hanako-kun x tsundere! female! reader

warning: lots of kisses (◍•ᴗ•◍)

summary: in which hanako tries to break [name]'s tsundere persona to make her confess her love for him by kissing her.

Hanako notices [Name]’s strange behavior whenever he’s around her. When he tries to check her out, [Name] will blush and scoot away from him as she points at him and says. “W-What the hell do you think you’re doing you perv?!” Followed by a punch on his face. One time Hanako tried to tease her, the same blush would appear on her cheeks, and [Name] would call him an idiot for messing with her.

[Name] was minding her own business, mopping the bathroom floor, cleaning the toilets, spraying the mirrors with water, and then wiping them up. Hanako walks up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder and pointing a finger at a foggy spot on one of the mirrors. “You missed a spot.” he chuckled.

“I-I know that I was about to wipe it, stupid.” [Name] scoffed, wiping the spot with the cloth she was holding. Hanako puts his hand on his mouth, his pointer finger touching his nose, then silently chuckles at her response. [Name] pouted slightly, realizing that Hanako was only doing that to catch her off guard.

The [hair color] haired girl finishes up her cleaning, wiping off the sweat rolling down from her forehead. “Man, that took longer than I thought.” [Name] says in an unamused tone as she squeezes out the stored water from the cloth. She turns her head towards Hanako’s direction, a stoic expression written on her pretty visuals. “Oi, I’m finished.”

“Good work, [Name]~” Hanako floated over to his assistant and patted her on the head. [Name]’s eyes were twitching in annoyance, but deep down she’s loving the praise that Hanako was giving her, especially when he’s patting her head like that. She lowered her head, twiddling her fingers as her whole face was heating up. “Your ears were turning red by the way~” He said, touching her ears gently.

“H-Hey!” [Name] stammered out, grabbing Hanako’s hand and yanking it away. She enclosed her reddened ears using her hands, turning away from the teasing male who's now snickering nearby. "J-Jeez, Hanako-kun…"

"Hehe, cutie…" Hanako smirked.

"I-I'm not a cutie, excuse you!" [Name] retorted, crossing her arms and flipped her hair to the side. Her flustered gaze averted from the apparition boy. "And stop teasing me you slimy perverted brat or else," she murmured under her breath. At that moment she looks so done with Hanako’s mischievous antics she could smack the hell out of him.

“Or else what~?” Hanako took her hand on top of his and pulled [Name] closer to him, enveloping an arm around her waist, and grinned at their current position. “Hmm~” he hummed, leaning in a little bit as the tip of their noses were touching.

[Name] was malfunctioning and her poor heart was beating so fast. Without saying anything, she gently shoved Hanako away from her and hugged herself. Hanako obviously enjoyed seeing [Name] all red and flustered because of him. “Why hug yourself?” He asked, embracing her from behind as she squeaked. “If you can be in my arms all day~?” Hanako whispered, gently blowing her ear to tease and his lips slightly grazing to her earlobe.

“You really are a stubborn idiot...” [Name] balled her fist and gave Hanako an uppercut as he was launched backward, hitting him on the back of his head.

“O-Ow…” Hanako rubbed the back of his head in pain, even though he’s a ghost and cannot feel pain. “You don’t have to be so rough with me, you know.” He said, standing up from the floor and laughed sheepishly. [Name] patted her cheeks to ease down her blush, then finally composed herself and faced Hanako.

“I thought ghosts don’t feel pain?”

“Well, our souls are linked together, remember?”

“Right��”

[Name] marched over to Hanako as he was rubbing his head to soothe the pain. She felt bad for punching him, if only he has a sense of personal space. “Here, let me...” [Name] swatted his hand away and removed his hat, her free hand ruffling his soft hair.

Hanako is a bit surprised by the sudden change of behavior. He noticed her cheeks turning red up close, knowing that [Name] is not used to do this kind of kind of thing. He slightly blushed when their eyes met. “D-Don't get the wrong idea.” [Name] murmured. “I'm not doing this because I like you or anything—”

“M-Mhmm...” Hanako hummed in reply.

“Honestly, Hanako-kun...” [Name] sighed, placing his hat back on his head properly. “You should watch your actions, I don't want to assume anything.”

[Name] picks up her bag and slung it over to her back. “I'll see you tomorrow.” She announced, walking out of the bathroom with a bitter tone.

Yashiro enters the bathroom just as [Name] left completely. “Hanako-kun, did you do something to [Name]?” She asked with concern, hoping that the ghost didn't do harsh things with her.

“I was just being clingy with her until she just said to watch my actions—” Hanako explained, trying to reason with Yashiro with his side of the story. The choppy haired male is utterly confused with [Name] lately, is she just being mean with Hanako or she's just being a tsundere?

Yashiro nodded, finally understanding the situation. “There's something between the lines Yashiro,” Hanako started venting with matching movements with his hands as he paced back and forth. “I found [Name]'s denial funny, saying that she hates it yet the blush on her face was obvious that she likes it. Then there's her physically hitting me as I try to flirt with her—”

“She likes you.” Yashiro said.

“And then [Name] starts to stutter when I compliment her—I'm sorry what?” Hanako stopped when he heard Yashiro say something about [Name] liking him.

“I said [Name] likes you.”

Hanako smiled ear to ear, trying to contain his giddiness. He was in love with [Name] ever since and hearing this good news made his day better. “You're not joking, right?”

“Come on Hanako-kun, [Name]-chan is literally blushing at your actions and you didn't get the hint of her having a crush on you! Think Hanako-kun, think about it!” Yashiro puts her hands on the sides of her head to prove that she's not joking. “Why do you think she's a tsundere around you?”

“I guess I'll confirm it myself tomorrow~” Hanako grinned, adjusting his hat.

Hanako plans to confront [Name] about his feelings for him to confirm whether Yashiro was just joking around or it is indeed true.

“[Name]~?” Hanako called in a sing-song voice. The tsundere gripped on her mop and let out a scowl, turning her head towards the ghost's direction.

“What?” She asked.

Hanako smirked slyly on her way, placing his cheek on top of his palm and said. “I heard from a reliable source that you like me~”

[Name] flinched, dropping the mop on the floor and blushed furiously. “W-What?!” She exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger to the teasing ghost. “Who the hell told you that?!”

“So it's true then~?” Hanako grinned.

“W-Wha?” [Name] swatted her hands, turning into a blushing mess. “O-Of course not! Why the hell would I like you?!” Her voice was shaking a bit, trying to make him change his mind. Hanako chuckled deeply, hopping off from the window seat and walked towards her.

“Why are you blushing then~?” [Name] nervously stepped back when Hanako got closer and closer to her. There's no point of denying things anymore, [Name]'s blushing reaction was already a proof that she likes Hanako. “You love me, don't you~?”

[Name] remained silent, her eyes avoiding Hanako's gaze and her signature blush on her visuals. Hanako places his forearm above her head as if to trap her in a kabedon. He grabs her chin using his thumb and pointer finger, tilting it slightly to make [Name] look at him. “My eyes are over here, sweetheart~”

“You really are enjoying this, huh?” [Name] mumbled, her eyes turning soft whilst looking at Hanako, her headstrong facade slowly breaks as she is facing him with her true self. Usually, [Name] would kick him out but for now she isn't doing anything.

“Yeah, actually.” Hanako responded, gently caressing her bottom lip using his thumb. “I wonder how long would it take for you to admit that you love me~?”

[Name]'s [eye color] eyes widened in shock when she felt Hanako's lips connect with hers. The feeling was sweet and soft as butterflies in her stomach fluttered gently in a euphoric manner. Hanako pulls away with a smile. “C'mon~ say you love me~” He urged.

“Shut up, as if...” [Name] grumbled. Hanako kisses her again, this time it was a little longer than before. [Name] moved his hat away from his head and placed it on the ground while he was kissing her.

“I like you too, you know...” Hanako says in between kisses. [Name] pulls away slightly, catching her breath from their intimacy.

“Fine, I l-love you...” [Name] confessed, feeling sour now that Hanako was winning over her.

“I love you too~”

a/n: here's your request anon-san~ sorry if its late though, i hope you enjoy this oneshot, this goes for everyone too (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #jshk #amane yugi #yugi amane #amane #amane yugi x reader #hanako x reader #yugi amane x reader #hanako kun #hanako #hanako kun x reader #jshk hanako kun #jshk hanako #tbhk hanako

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pocketfulofrecs · 3 years ago

Text

Dee - So! We have a little game in our discord server where writers write a fic together, blindly, without any plot. One writer starts a thread, other follows up, and then another joins in. Our first run produced the story you see below. It was a game between @auspiciouscandy, @whiteflowercrimsonparasol (or justdoityoufucker) and myself or @vrishchikawrites.

We thought it should be shared with everyone. That's why Ju and I decided to start a new section on Pocketful called Storytime with Bunnies. We'll publish all stories that we write there on Pocketful and eventually on Ao3.

Personally, it was a great deal of fun and I'm so happy that we're continuing it! I hope you like the story! It was written by three people and still turned out so smooth!

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A Strange Encounter

by Vrishchika, justdoityoufucker, and auspiciouscandy

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It is dark, but Wei Ying has never been afraid of darkness.

The juniors shuffle nervously behind him, sticking so close to his back, he can feel the warmth of their bodies. Suddenly, there is a noise - loud in the silence of the night and out of place. Wei Ying clutches Chengqing tightly, ready to strike. He turns in the direction of the noise only to suck in a sharp breath and try to suppress the sigh threatening to overtake him.

He’d mostly been following the juniors, letting them take the lead to hunt the nest of low-level yao that had been terrorizing the small mountain town. They’d done well, so far, and had dealt with half of the yao without incident. The problem started when they’d run into a higher-level yao, which was to be expected given his luck on night hunts, but he hadn’t expected to see a strange man.

He seems almost as tall as Chifeng-zun had been; Wei Ying can't see his features clearly, but his instincts warn him to be cautious. The man says nothing as he steps forward. He doesn't have a corpse's stiff gait. Each step brings him closer and reveals more of him. Pale skin, dark eyes, lips as red as blood, almost unnaturally still features.

His beauty is disarming, but Wei Ying is unmoved. He's married to the most beautiful man in existence, after all. But he is curious. What is this strange, beautiful man doing in the middle of the woods? And while he looks the man over, cautious of any sharp movement the man could make, he steps forward. Though contrary to his beautiful appearance, his body is but a corpse and it is difficult to hide when he staggers and what appears to be his arm drops down onto the floor. Wei Ying hears someone gagging behind him, but he cannot take his eyes off the man; every instinct in his body is screaming about the danger in front of them.

Just when he is about to speak, the man's face changes to a look of pained horror, a look that the stiffness of a corpse shouldn't be able to achieve. There is something about the way his jaw moves, that makes it seem as if he was trying to speak, but no sound leaves his red, red lips.

"Stop," Wei Ying says, putting the force of his cultivation into the word. The corpse's mouth opens even wider, and Wei Ying senses it before anything, "Cover your ears!" he shouts, but it is too late, there are some indistinguishable whispers he catches before his hands reach his ears, and he doubts any of the juniors were fast enough even as he hears their swords immediately drop to the floor.

He wracks his brain to match the odd corpse with any of the descriptions he remembers from his studies and it suddenly clicks into place. He remembers tales of bewitching creatures. Beings that can ensnare and seduce with their voice and their beauty. Beings that can control the living mind as Wei Ying controls corpses. He remembers tales of how cultivators of immense strength would drop their swords and simply submit to these creatures, allowing them to consume their Qi without protest.

His eyes flicker towards his juniors, alarm stirring in his chest. What can he do? Think. Think, Wei Ying!

And he reaches a conclusion, the corpse uses its voice to control, to influence, and had Wei Ying not used his own to do the same? Resentful energy and spiritual energy are almost similar, it's risky, but there isn't much else to do. He already perceives the juniors trying to walk past him, and he is overcome with waves after waves of compulsion from his small amount of exposure, so Wei Ying does the only thing he can think of.

He gathers the power towards his throat. His voice laced with command, he opens his mouth and sings not a real tune, at first, but simply unbridled power that cuts off the corpse's control over the juniors.

But he cannot just wrest control; he needs to suppress the corpse, and that takes more than random notes. He slides into a familiar song, lyrics that Lan Zhan shared but have never been sung before in deference to their usual duets. The juniors have never heard Wei-qianbei sing before; they have heard his tuneful humming, whistling, and music, but not his true singing voice. It renders them silent. Wei Ying's voice is resonant and it bounces off the surrounding trees and rocks, becoming amplified. The effect is otherworldly, unlike anything they have ever experienced.

It halts the strange creature in his tracks. He sways dazedly. Something about the expression is almost covetous.

Wei Ying hears Sizhui whisper his name in worry. He is his father's son and has somehow inherited all of Hanguang-jun's protectiveness. Even now, he takes a shaky step forward to stand before Wei Ying. But there's no reason he should worry; Wei Ying's control over his power is absolute, his control over the corpse-creature the same.

He changes the intent of his power, the tone of his singing, to lure the creature to lower its guard and step closer. He trusts that Sizhui knows what to do, that the other juniors will assist as his voice lulls it into submission. The creature stumbles forward, his hand stretched out towards Wei Ying. He sways with every step and Wei Ying tracks his movements carefully.

"Good boy," he croons, maintaining a singing tone in his voice, "Whatever shall we do with you?"

The corpse's hand is still outstretched and his expression is still mesmerized. Wei Ying reaches out and closes his fingers around the hand, keeping his voice mellow and soothing. "You're a strong one, aren't you?" he sings, ignoring Sizhui's alarmed noise.

The corpse will only need to twist his grip to break Wei Ying's arm but something tells him he's safe. He leans forward, curious, "Wei Ying," and Wei Ying freezes. He doesn't let off his control but it is enough for the corpse to pull him closer, a hand reaching up to caress his hair—he is aware of the gasped whispers by the juniors of, 'Hanguang-jun,' the juniors who were just beginning to take control—but this is something out of his expectation. A normally high-level corpse of this type would be troublesome on its own, but one that could mimic?

The danger levels have increased far more than what juniors can handle; Wei Ying pivots in his singing, pulls Sizhui behind him and crowds back, keeping the juniors behind him. He pauses, for the barest moment, to say, "Flare."

That snaps Sizhui to action, and as Wei Ying resumes singing, voice louder and louder, he draws a flare out of his robes and sets it off, the sparkling blue of the fireworks temporarily catching the creature's attention, making Wei Ying snap forward and cup the corpse's face, physically drawing his attention back towards him.

It is intimate, the way he angles his body and draws the creature in. Something burns in him. He has never touched anyone but his Lan Zhan like this, with so much tenderness.

The creature that mimics his husband's voice seems to mimic his affection too. Wei Ying cringes as cold fingers trace his cheek, trailing dangerously close to his neck. One slip, and Wei Ying could potentially lose his life.

"Wei Ying," The corpse whispers in his husband's voice, and something dark stirs within him. His lips twitch into an alluring smile and Wei Ying has his hand slowly reaching up and caressing its cold skin. He thinks the eyes shimmer an amber shade, for they are nowhere near the molten gold of his husband’s. He's all too aware of this cheap imitation's intent and responds in kind.

Wei Ying ignores the yells of his nephew, the sound of another flare going up into the night sky; his hand is coated in resentful energy as it reaches the back of the corpse's neck, and he maintains eye contact with it, his voice softer to only reach the corpse.

It is completely enamoured, that is why when Wei Ying makes a hand sign to the juniors to tell them to leave, the creature doesn't react. It is like a careful, possessive lover, but, unlike his husband, there is no real care behind its actions as it closes in on him. The resentful energy on Wei Ying's hands increases, solidifies, a black, hateful knife.

When he drives it directly into the corpse-creature's neck, spearing it up into its skull, the creature makes a weak, pained groan in that facsimile of his husband's voice, and Wei Ying shouldn't feel the way he does—it is but a creature who had taken up the face of his beloved—but to hear the wounded noises it makes, trying to garner his sympathy, Wei Ying cannot help but feel that sympathy. Wei Ying should know that the hands around his neck are the ones that wouldn't hesitate to kill him, so very cold, lacking his husband's warmth.

He raises his voice, and sings a sharp tune, and the corpse whines once more before it’s rendered mute, opening its mouth wide with a final hissed, “Wei Ying!”

Wei Ying's eyes widen because, for a second, before he tightens his hands, he catches a glimpse of his husband, pain and grief on his face that he hasn't seen in years. The corpse falls, its weakness stabbed through, unable to move again and Wei Ying shudders, feeling so incredibly off-kilter.

He needs to see Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan is fine, he's sure, but the look on the creature's face, the timbre of its voice--it's almost enough to overwhelm.

The juniors, still near enough to catch the sudden silence, creep back through the trees, worried looks on their faces as they take in the look on their teacher's face, the still form of the corpse-creature on the ground.

"Xian-gege?" Sizhui starts, clearly shaken if he's reverted to that form of address. He continues forward as if to grasp Wei Ying's shoulder, but Wei Ying needs a moment. Maybe it is the leftover effects of the corpse, maybe it is his own fears and concerns.

But he takes in a sharp breath and pulls his mouth into a smile, "Now then, shouldn't we return? I assume none of you are hurt?" He looks them over, ignoring the sneaked glances from the dazed juniors as they stand up on their shaking legs, "Come along now—" he places his hand on top of Sizhui's, which shakes almost unnoticeably.

Sizhui wants to reassure him, but he knows already that Wei-qianbei wouldn't feel comforted until he lays his eyes on Hanguang-jun. Sizhui has seen enough of their love to know this is one of the few things that can rattle his indomitable Xian-gege. If anything happens to Hanguang-jun, Wei-qianbei would—

Sizhui draws his mind away from grim thoughts and watches as Wei-qianbei steps forward to the body, pulling out his qiankun pouch. Suddenly, there's a twitch of movement from nearby. As if called by Wei Ying and Lan Sizhui's thoughts, the austere white of Lan Zhan's robes appears, and he comes to a graceful halt near the corpse-creature.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying can't help but exhale in relief, "We're fine."

Hanguang-jun casts a look at the corpse-creature, then back at Wei Ying. He looks over Wei Ying completely before turning his gaze towards the juniors while moving towards Wei Ying, almost a split second of a glance but enough to know they're fine; it wouldn't have been noticed if Sizhui hadn't been looking for it. Then, he reaches up to caress Wei Ying’s face and Wei Ying melts into it, feeling the warmth seep into his skin.

"Wei Ying," Wei Ying can't describe how relieved he feels when the familiar scent of sandalwood envelopes him. It takes but a glance for Lan Zhan to see past his welcoming smile and glimpse the truly shaken core of him.

"Go forth, Sizhui, we'll join you soon." Lan Zhan commands and Wei Ying almost protests. He doesn't want the children away from him. Lan Zhan just shakes his head and pulls him close, "Breathe, center yourself."

Wei Ying presses his forehead to Lan Zhan's shoulder and sighs. Lan Zhan is here. Lan Zhan is safe, solid, and strong. That's all he cares about, and he feels his arms encircling him so he completely rests his weight upon his husband, his head on Lan Zhan's chest, hearing his heartbeat go thump thump thump.

He feels the earlier fight leaving his body as he relaxes against him, matching their breaths together. Wei Ying wants to stay there with him, the forest trees and the silence that was eerie and offsetting earlier feels serene and calming. But they can’t, because they have to get back, everyone in need of rest, the kids in need of checking to see if they're all actually okay.

Then there's the issue of the corpse-creature; research will need to be done when they are back in Cloud Recesses, to figure out what it is and if there might be more. Wei Ying breathes in the sandalwood scent of his husband, then steps away, qiankun pouch in hand. The corpse is where it had fallen, and he kneels next to it, Lan Zhan a comforting presence next to him.

"Aiya," He says, "They tried but couldn't get close to your perfection, Lan Zhan."

His husband huffs but keeps a steady, warm hand on his back. It is a reassuring presence that makes it easier to examine the body. Wei Ying runs his eyes along the tall body, mind stirring, "Who could be behind this?" How and why did they mimic Lan Zhan of all people? Wei Ying can't help but feel concerned. Lan Zhan hums in response but offers no commentary; he's probably still in a protective, vigilant state. Wei Ying smiles fondly and kisses him on his cheek, "let's return then,” he says, and gets up after putting it away.

Lan Zhan pulls him closer to himself; maybe he knows what worried Wei Ying as he keeps a comforting presence by his side. They walk to the Juniors standing ahead, who stop their whispers as soon as they get close. Wei Ying looks them over once again. They look at him with a slightly dazed look, but are steady on their feet. Wei Ying frowns, maybe it's the effects of leftover energy?

Jin Ling starts to say something about heading back to Jinlintai. As if Wei Ying would let him! It's almost midnight, and the night hunt has taken them to the far reaches of Gusu-Lan territory, a long trip of a couple days to Lanling-Jin territory. "None of that," Wei Ying chides, feeling like himself again. "Back to the village for all of us; Hanguang-jun needs to make sure there are no lingering effects."

Jin Ling half-scowls, but doesn't deny or try to argue back, and there's a blur as Sizhui all but pulls Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji into a hug. Jin Ling sees Sizhui’s shoulders shake slightly and he looks away. Terrifying situation or not, that illusion had felt all too real. It was as if it were Hanguang-jun standing before them, the mannerism, the voice, how he...he—

Before he can think more he feels a pull at his wrist and he feels the warmth of another person around him. He hears Jingyi make a startled noise as the other two are also pulled into a clustered little group hug. Jin Ling’s face flushes red and he opens his mouth to protest but doesn't push them away.

“You're safe,” Wei Ying says, as the teens start to pull away after a few moments. If a few of them have reddened eyes, or barely-there tear tracks down their cheeks, neither he nor Lan Zhan mention it.

"Aiya," he gives Sizhui an extra pat on the head, a smile finally pulling at his face as he takes in the juniors' despondent looks. "What is all this? I would think someone died if I came upon you all like this! Come now, back to the village.”

"Wei Ying!" Lan Zhan calls suddenly and Wei Ying doesn't understand why. He looks up at his husband, only to see his eyes shining with concern, perhaps even some panic.

"What? Lan Zha—"

An abrupt wave of dizziness overcomes him and he falters, feeling something dripping down his nose. He touches his upper lip shakily, his limbs starting to feel heavy. His vision swims and Lan Zhan catches him immediately as he sways forward. Something cold is settling within him. "Lan Zhan," he croaks. His vision is turning black from the corner of his eyes, and Lan Zhan is saying something but he can't hear it, it’s muffled and sounds so far away.

Wei Ying hates the feeling that floods him, the wave of cold dread that he hasn't felt in a long time. His hair stands up as he feels ghosts of the touches. They linger on the back of his neck, his face, his arms where the corpse had touched him, among the distant noises, he hears a clear, sharp "Wei Ying," but it sounds so odd, so unfamiliar despite it being his husband’s voice and that's when he crumples, losing all control of his limbs.

The cheer and safety of mere moments before has fled, and Wei Ying can't stamp out the panic that grips him as his breath hitches. He's vaguely aware, as if he is not truly in possession of his own body anymore, that his sweet husband, his Lan Zhan, has pulled his body up into his arms.

That awareness lessens even more as Lan Zhan's distant, warped voice sends out some sharp commands, and then he feels the slap of wind on his face and something isn't right. His senses are fading but he has practiced dual cultivation with Lan Zhan for several years now. He's intimately familiar with his husband's core. Something isn't right because—

—they're running. The wind is against his face. He remembers the trapped look of despair. His husband commands the children but something isn't right. He's leaving something behind. The arms carrying him are familiar but recognition slips him and he becomes increasingly aware as a sharp pain increases from his arm and he gasps, because it feels as if fire is under his skin, it moves from his arm and reaches up to his neck and it increases. Wei Ying has always had a large tolerance to pain, but he is in little control and he cannot stop himself as he lets out a pained scream, the wind feels faster as Lan Zhan—

—not right, not right, not right—

—he wakes up to the dark wood and white paint of the Cloud Recesses. He does not move, cataloging his body, the sensations, what he remembers. There was an oppressive feeling of pain, of wrongness, that is now mostly gone. Did they fly back? How long has it been?

He feels like he's forgetting something, forgetting; he thinks it over, the body, the pain, and reaches up his arm and sure enough, there are bright red marks, beginning from his arm, spreading out like spilled ink on paper, they resemble a spiders web as they crawl upwards, up along until they disappear into his clothes and he had no doubt they reach till his neck. What about his face? He reaches up to try and touch but before he can, the door slides open as Lan Zhan steps through.

Wei Ying's entire focus shifts towards the Second Jade. Lan Zhan looks pristine as always, calm like nothing can disturb him. His movements are steady, unhurried. He sets his things aside and walks into the Jingshi casually. There's no trace of urgency or worry in him. Wei Ying feels his heart grow cold. His Lan Zhan wouldn't have been as calm, nor would his Lan Zhan look at him the way it did, unmoving and—the same way that thing had.

"Lan Zhan" comes and sits by his bed, eyes lock over him, dark and amber. "Wei Ying," he—it—reaches up a hand, and cradles his cheek, the same way his husband did. Except, its thumb inches towards lips and it is colder than ice. Wei Ying acts unbothered, showing a soft smile as he puts his hand over the one on his face.

"I'm fine, Lan Zhan!" he says softly. The suspicion grows when he remembers the red veining on his body, when he realizes that the touch isn't as tangible as it should be.

Touching the creature's hand feels like holding a dust mote, and he abruptly realizes that he isn't sure if this even is the Jingshi. It is the same pristine colors, of course, but their possessions seem blurred, as if only half-existing. There is no familiar, comforting scent of sandalwood. Is it an illusion? A dream? Is this creature a figment of his imagination? Or is it something else? He tries to access his core and can't grasp anything. He tries to summon resentful energy but it slips through his fingers like water. His only choice is to get information.

"What happened?" he asks in a soft tone he reserves for his husband. He angles his body to be welcoming, like he would with Lan Zhan. None of his actions give any indication of his suspicions. "Are the children safe?"

Lan Zhan nods, "They're safe. Lan Xichen is looking after them and a healer is examining them. You are the only one to be harmed. We do not know the nature of your injuries—" Verbose. Too verbose. Lan Xichen, not xiongzhang or Xichen. Even his imagination wouldn't conjure an illusion so inaccurate. This isn't just a simple case of his mind making things up.

The last thing he remembers is Lan Zhan, his Lan Zhan sending waves of spiritual energy and holding him close, so he can rest assured his body is safe. The hand slips from his cheek, as the "Lan Zhan"—no, the corpse, raises his chin making him look directly at it.

"What is Wei Ying thinking of?" it croons and Wei Ying looks away from it, and bites his lip as way of disguising his eyes roaming over the interior of the Jingshi, now that he looks carefully, the arrangement of the bed, the dresser, everything is out of order—the hand on his chin tightens, "Wei Ying, I'm right here."

The meaning is subtle, and Wei Ying turns to it, his expression as if hesitant, "I..I'm worried about the kids.." he takes on a concerned expression, not entirely faked, "Can you take me to see them?"

A pulse of Lan Zhan's--his Lan Zhan's spiritual energy abruptly floods him, and then is gone. It is a miracle he is able to keep his expression level and unbothered by it, but he's beginning to put the pieces together. He needs to keep the creature distracted, talking.

"Wei Ying," the creature wearing Lan Zhan's body says, almost chiding, "they need their rest, and you need your own rest. I am here with you; do not worry about them for the time being.”

Wei Ying knows it isn't the right time to push. He decides on a different approach, "You know how I get when there's a mystery to solve, Lan Zhan!" he protests with a playful smile, "You can't expect me to rest without any explanation? What happened? How did I get hurt? What did the healers say?" Simple questions, things he would've asked Lan Zhan in any case.

There's a lingering heat of Lan Zhan's qi swirling around within him, too weak to actually heal him or bring him out of this state, but enough to sharpen his perception and remove his pain. He knows his husband is trying to save him and there's no person more capable than his Lan Zhan. Something in him settles at that. Let Lan Zhan work from the outside to resolve the situation. Wei Ying will work from the inside to get more information.

The expression that crosses the corpse's face, of being caught off-guard, seems so foreign on Lan Zhan's face, but it composes itself and lets go of his chin, and seems to contemplate before deciding on an expression of utmost gentleness and care. "This," it says, as it reaches to touch the back of his neck, where one of the webbings must be, "is a mark of possession." A hint of darkness, desire, flashes in its eyes, "It means Wei Ying's qi has been flooded with another’s—" Wei Ying tenses, but the corpse has no suspicion in its eyes, meaning it was referring to that moment in the forest—"and Wei Ying is one of the few who have been able to reject it, so these," it reaches down to his arm, tracing over the red, "remain as a reminder." It looks enthralled, pleased even.

And Wei Ying feels his lips press flat. "I don't like them at all!" He pretends to whine, shows how he absolutely abhors the idea of it, feeling satisfied when it frowns in displeasure. "I don't like any marks other than the ones Lan Zhan makes,” he adds, looking at the corpse through his lashes.

Its facade almost slips, with the anger appearing on its face, and Wei Ying fights back a smug smile when another rush of his husband's warm spiritual energy wraps around him. The corpse-creature's face blurs for a moment, with that rush of qi, but then resettles. It looks distinctly displeased, though it tries to mask the expression with one of fondness that looks laughably fake. Wei Ying does not laugh.

"If my Lan Zhan wanted to make some marks," Wei Ying says coyly, trailing off in a suggestive manner. The creature seems to freeze and flicker, as if it is wholly unsure of what to do with that. And Wei Ying pulls back just as the corpse makes a hesitant hand gesture and says, softly, "Of course I'm joking Lan Zhan, you know your Wei Ying, I can't relax until I see the kids, and—" he adds seeing it fume "—you too, I know you're worried about them but they're strong! So they'll be fine!"

Wei Ying finishes his 'assurance' and Lan Zhan succeeds. There's a towering surge of qi coursing through him, ready to pull him back, his to command. By now, he is so familiar with his husband's qi that he can use it as his own. He sees how it makes the creature's eyes widen and falter. He smiles coyly, tapping his chin as the binds holding him to this place snap one by one.

"Now, who are you, my dear friend?" he asks as Lan Zhan's power unseals his own. The core he has cultivated so diligently pulses with power and the remaining binds disintegrate. Before the illusionary world around him can disappear, he reaches forward and slams a palm against the creature's chest, a smile of triumph curling at his lips.

"There you are," he whispers and drags them both to the real world that awaits them. His eyes flicker towards the real Lan Zhan, who looks pale and strikingly furious, and smirks coyly, "Lan Zhan! Someone had the audacity to steal your Wei Ying from you!"

The fury in his husband's eyes brightens into an inferno ready to destroy the most powerful of foes, and Wei Ying can't help but quiver in delight, in satisfaction. No words are needed between them, their souls and actions in perfect harmony. The creature that had taken him, and now is beholden to him, collapses and rebuilds itself, now not in Lan Zhan's form but again the form of the corpse he and the juniors had first encountered. It tries to fight against his power, but it stands no chance.

Lan Zhan steps forward, Bichen already unsheathed and ready to cut the corpse down, but Wei Ying shakes his head. He turns to the corpse, "Now, my friend, let's figure out what you are."

Wei Ying slams a talisman on the creature's chest and watches in satisfaction as it binds the creature completely. It squirms and tries to break the binds but to no avail. Seeing that the prisoner is secure, the juniors, healthy and hale, rush forward, gathering around him in concern.

Wei Ying smiles and meets Lan Zhan's eyes over their heads. 'Ah,' He thinks with something like heat curling in him, 'still furious.'

Indeed, Lan Zhan is furious. His eyes are dark and tracking all of Wei Ying's movements. His smile takes on an edge and he tilts his head to the side, baring his neck just slightly. Lan Zhan's eyes narrow and lips thin.

"Aiya," he pats the children indulgently, "Let your senior go, your Hanguang-jun is getting impatient."

The juniors flush red, and mutter excuses to leave. Wei Ying looks at Lan Zhan and reaches forward to pull him, but that movement shifts his sleeve to show the red markings and he finds his arm in the other’s grasp as Lan Zhan pulls him closer, so Wei Ying’s weight is entirely on his body as if he's hugging him. He's startled.

"Ah, Lan Zhan what're you—" he cuts off mid-sentence as Lan Zhan curls one hand around his waist, holding him close, and the other raises his hair, letting air brush against his nape. The sensation tingles; Lan Zhan knows his weak spot and with the energy flow from earlier it's sensitive, and Wei Ying flushes figuring out—"Lan Zhan, wait, wait—Ah!!"

His back arches and he shivers as Lan Zhan’s lips infused with spiritual energy land on his neck and he continues with a sharp bite, one that lets Wei Ying know just how displeased his husband is, how worried he had been and how thankful he now is that they are safe. Wei Ying can't help the squeak that comes from him at the action, but he is not hurt. The bite is followed by a tender kiss, one that spreads his husband's spiritual energy through him, chasing away the redness of the spider-webbed marks on his arms, filling him with comfort and at the same time lighting a fire in him.

"Wei Ying is careless," Lan Zhan says, lips moving against Wei Ying's skin when he doesn't even pull away to speak, "I have been worried, Wei Ying was gone, alone."

He says the last part softly but Wei Ying hears it anyway with their bodies together, he can feel his warmth, their heartbeats and breaths mingling together, he can feel him and Wei Ying feels at ease, Lan Zhan’s words make his heart ache, 'Aish his beloved', "Lan-er-gege," he begins, his voice mellow and teasing, "Lan-er-gege, I felt you," he says, tracing Lan Zhan's back with his fingers as his breathing hitches. "I wasn't alone,” he finishes.

After waiting for a moment to soak in the comfort, Wei Ying leans back and looks at his husband, before leaning in to pull him into a kiss Lan Zhan leans into him, desperate and fierce. A strong arm curls around his back, holding onto him tightly. Wei Ying feels fond as he cups his husband's face, making soothing noises in the back of his throat even as the kiss grows heated. He pulls away with a gasp, chuckling when Lan Zhan doesn't let go, dipping his head to kiss along his jaw, "Aiya, husband, we're in public. Your uncle could arrive any moment now."

Lan Zhan doesn't let go and Wei Ying yelps when sharp teeth sink into his flesh once again, "How cruel to your poor Wei Ying!"

"It would seem you're well, Wuxian," An amused voice interrupts them and Wei Ying startles, looking beyond his beloved to see Lan Xichen watching them in amusement. Wei Ying pushes Lan Zhan away and, this time, his husband parts with him reluctantly to bow to their brother. There's not even an ounce of shame on his beloved's face and Wei Ying feels flushed. How unfair.

He turns to greet Lan Xichen. "Da baizi! Yes, I'm okay!" Lan Wangji's arm around him tightens and Wei Ying squirms slightly. Their robes are already in a complete state of disarray. "Lan Zhan!" he whispers though he's pretty sure it’s still loud, and, sure enough, he hears a chuckle as Lan Xichen shakes his head slightly.

"That's a relief," he smiles at them, which Wei Ying returns just as bright, "I will not hold you up further," he says gently, and adds a joyful and teasing, "I'll go let Uncle know."

To not disturb you is left unsaid as he turns to leave and Wei Ying hides his face in Lan Zhan's neck as he hums in agreement, completely unrepentant. "Lan Zhaaaan" but doesn't say anything else as the door closes. The smile remains on his face; everyone is home safe, Wei Ying is happy, and it all feels right once again.

#storytime with bunnies #mdzs fic #wangxian #mdzs juniors #wei wuxian #lan wangji #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #jin ling #post canon #wei wuxian and the juniors #justdoityoufucker #vrishchika

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gohyuck · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: head knight!jeno x monarch!reader (reader has genitals attributed to those considered biologically female but no pronouns are actually used)

genre: fluff, mild angst (they discuss an oncoming battle they must prepare for), smut (it’s mostly smut)

word count: 6.5k

warnings & notes (nonsexual): mentions of war/battle, mentions of injuries retained from past skirmishes, jeno is as tall as you need him to be in order to rest your head against his chest without leaning down, it’s kind of cheesy tbh they are disgustingly head-over-heels in love with each other, also a peryton is a fantasy creature that’s essentially a stag + a bird, also i know y’all must be tired of royalty aus but i swear this is almost pwp (except there’s context so there’s plot) so give it a chance (if you’re legal) i guess

warnings & notes (sexual): oral (giving and receiving for both parties), fingering (reader receives), spit kink (lmao sorry), general messiness honestly, mild knife kink (no blood drawn, he just uses a dagger to tear apart clothing), gratuitous usage of the name ‘lionheart’, jeno has a big dick because i cannot stop myself from doing that to y’all for some reason, some choking

special thanks to @moonlit-jeno @domjaehyun @waithyuck for reading parts of it/all of it beforehand!

the soft hours of twilight have their holds on you, chilling you to your bones even as you pull the heavy fur cape tighter around your body. you should’ve pulled something over your thin nightgown, you suppose, something to act as a middle layer between silk and skin and peryton fur, but it’s too late for that. you’re already out on your private balcony, overlooking a kingdom you’d do anything to see the sun rise on day after day.

far, far past the outskirts of your humble realm, barely visible to your own eye, an unsettlingly large camp of soldiers is finishing setting up camp for the night. you watch as tiny, tiny orange pinpricks - no doubt the fires they’d set to make food, to alert you of their presence - begin to get snuffed out. finally, they sleep.

if you were any worse of a person, of a ruler, you would send your army after them now, hours before the battle is set. perhaps, if you were any less selfish, you would do so regardless of keeping your status as a good and just monarch. if you were any less selfish, you would shake awake the love of your life and hand him his cape after shedding it from your shoulders. you would tell him to rouse his men and women, to arm them to their teeth, and to fight for what is right using means that are entirely wrong.

as if privy to your thoughts, your head knight stirs in the too-large bed behind you. you turn just in time to see him sit up and twist his body left, right, left as he stretches to rid himself of sleep. it’s too late - or maybe too early - for either of you to be awake. maybe you should have stayed within his warm embrace rather than gotten out of bed to size up the army of the kingdom of crithage.

even now, you can’t help but strategize, at least on a basic level. crithagians are unused to the cold of your beautiful - but often frigid - ekoria. they won’t expect your people to fall upon them from the icy cliffs that surround their camp, nor will they be able to see over the oncoming blizzard your royal sky-reader has predicted. she has not been incorrect in many, many years. ekorians have, over the years, grown accustomed to heavy snows, among other weather phenomenon, so your army’s visual acuity is not to be questioned.

that, and your troops are in the hands of the best warrior ekoria has ever had.

jeno. your jeno. your lionheart. you rein your thoughts in just as he pulls open the balcony door, closing it behind him with a soft click as he steps over the threshold separating in from out and warm from cold. goosebumps rise across his bare flesh the moment his skin meets air, and you don’t hesitate to slide his cape off and thrust it towards him, knowing full well that his arms will provide more than enough heat for you. he fastens it with ease, seeming slightly amused at how you’d been using it as a blanket, and gently grabs ahold of your wrist before pulling you into his chest and wrapping an arm around your waist. with his other hand, he takes a corner of his cape and wraps it around you, leaving you enveloped in both his hot-to-touch skin and the comforting fur.

“they’re out in the valley, aren’t they?” he finally murmurs, leaning to place his mouth against your ear. jeno’s voice is thick and sleep-ridden, still raspy in a way that settles around you, inside you, within you. you lean back slightly, raising a cold hand to rest against the tattoo of a lion that adorns his left pectoral, mane stretching up to his collarbone and encroaching on his bicep. the lion has a scar on its right cheek. you pull away more, eyes landing on the thin discolored line underneath your lover’s same eye.

it had been a longsword, meant to slash across your throat. jeno, with the speed of a star falling from grace and enough adrenaline to fuel a hundred men, had leapt across you in order to take it across the face. for crown and for country, bard’s songs later regaled of him. for you, he’d whispered to you that same night as you’d stitched him up, using the threading tactics you’d learned from the castle medic as a child. for you. always for you.

“my love?” jeno prods, and you realize you haven’t given his rhetorical question any acknowledgement. you hum, meeting his eyes with your own, and watch as he allows one corner of his mouth to turn up.

“they only just put out their fires.” you finally respond, moving to be against his chest again. you rest your head against the intricate ink against jeno’s skin, finally letting out a breath of what one might consider worry. the air that leaves your lungs manifests into wisps out in the cold world that surrounds you. your lionheart pulls you ever closer.

“you need not stress.” he says simply, and an outsider to your relationship would see no cohesion between your statement and his. still, you know precisely what jeno means, why he’s said what he’s said. you turn, pressing your lips against the lion’s forehead. above you, your own lion brushes his lips against your temple.

“i have an army, a kingdom, even, to worry about, and yet i only fear tomorrow for whatever outcome befalls one man.” you whisper, and even you are surprised to find tears catching in your throat. you do not cry easily, not when you know firsthand how cruel the world can be.

you only reign because your parents no longer breathe.

tomorrow’s battle could easily bleed into next year’s war, and while your kingdom is prepared for such a thing, your heart may not be. your people are not belligerent, and neither are you. crithage had been the one to throw the first stone, had sent word that if you refused to relinquish your throne and bow your head, they would aim the first arrow, draw the first blood. no tears had been shed then, not even when you’d paced around your bedchambers, reading and rereading the note signed with blood red ink until jeno had physically pulled it out of your tight grasp. you hadn’t cried, not even when he’d said that he was willing to die if it meant keeping crithage out of ekoria, out of the kingdom you’d both built from ground up after the war that had taken your parents, out of the home you’d created together.

“wherever you take us, i will follow. wherever you need me, i will lead.” he’d murmured the words against the lobe of your ear, standing beside and slightly behind your throne as you’d written out your reply to crithage in a room full of your advisors. nobody else had moved a muscle then, not even as you closed the envelope with hot wax and the royal seal.

you’d sent back a much, much shorter letter than their own in response.

a time and date for battle. nothing more and nothing less.

that had been so many months ago, so far away that the concept of time dissipates when you attempt to organize it in your harried mind. with a hostile army on your doorstep, everything suddenly feels far more real than it has before. your people have been evacuated, your troops have been trained. your lionheart is unafraid to the world, standing tall and proud at your side as he always has.

a sigh that starts from deep in jeno’s chest brings you back to the present. tomorrow is it, you’re reminded. crithage has seiged almost every other state between themselves and your beloved ekoria. if they get to you, they’ll have your head, raised high on a stake they’ll erect outside of the gates they’ll install to the place you call home. if they get to you, it means they’ll have gotten through jeno.

you can’t live in a world without him. it’s a dangerous attachment for a ruler to have, you’re well aware. if other kingdoms find out that your weakness is a person, one that lives and breathes, you’re not likely to ever see your love again.

it’s little comfort that jeno can’t live in a world without you, either.

“i worry about not being here, at the castle, to protect you,” he mumbles into your hair. “i know that you are perfectly capable, and that you’ll have your own faction of our knights with you, but i- it feels as if i’m about to open my chest and leave my naked heart unguarded, right there for any arrows to pierce.”

jeno’s confession is simple, beautiful in the way the most ornate of daggers are: that is, you feel as if he’s just dragged a sharp edge down the length of your sternum, taking you apart piece by piece. his words cage you in, force you deeper into your own head in a way you can’t afford, not right now.

“eloquent,” you hum, unable to resist teasing him even as the moment does not call for it. it’s to save yourself from your heavily beating heart. “it isn’t too late to make you my poet laureate, you know. no need to wield a sword tomorrow then.”

“and who would be your head knight then, hm? the current laureate? you want renjun to lead the charge against the crithagians? to be your lionheart?” your lover draws back to ensure that you can see his eyes, glimmering with mirth. renjun is an able man, and one of your best friends, but he is not the warrior jeno is.

nobody is the warrior that jeno is.

“such a foolish thing to say,” you smile up at him, lips folding from joking to earnest within moments. the merriment fades a little from jeno’s eyes at recognizing the change in your expressions. “you’re my only lionheart. always have been and always will be, even when you’re too old and gray and slow to be my head knight.”

“someone seems confident of that happening.” he says quietly, raising the hand at your waist to come up and rest over your own hand that lies against his chest. you swallow, your own spit feeling too heavy for you to stomach, your throat dry and scratchy.

“who else can have confidence of a victory rather than a monarch?” you ask, a smile that isn’t quite sad - but isn’t quite self-assured either - resting on your lips. jeno raises your hand to his lips, pressing one, two, three chaste kisses to the back and then repeating the pattern against your palm. he does not let go.

the two of you stand there for a stolen moment. you lay your head back against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heartbeat below the ink and skin and muscle and bone. he is real, and he is here.

he is real. he is here.

“the monarch’s lionheart, of course,” he murmurs, finally dropping your hand to reach back and push open the balcony door. “we only have four more strokes of time until i must go, my love. is this truly how you want to spend it?”

it’s evident that jeno no longer wants to mull over the what-ifs, not when he prefers living in the present more than anyone you’ve ever known. unsurprising, you suppose, for someone whose livelihood involves strategizing away his own mortality. you allow him to pull you back into your bedroom, immediately more comfortable when the door closes behind you, keeping you in with the body heat of your lover and the warmth of the crackling fire on the hearth in the corner of your room. jeno sheds the cape, draping it over the nearest chair, before bringing you back to his chest by placing his large hands against your waist.

it takes feeling his fingers against your skin through the thin silk of your slip to remember that jeno has nothing on. he’s always preferred to sleep naked, unlike you. though you hardly have any undergarments on, you at least wear a sheer gown most nights.

you’d ridden him passionately before bed, tiring both of you out in order to get any semblance of sleep. as your lionheart pulls you flush against him, though, it’s difficult to avoid the way his cock hardens against your hip once more. you want to quip about how jeno’s insatiable, but he trails a hand up, up over your body to swipe a thumb over one of your hardened nipples, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes through your prettily parted lips.

“will you get on the bed for me, love?” jeno’s voice is smoother now that he’s more awake, though you can’t help but miss the low growl that had come with the earlier rasp. he may be asking you a question, but you know that it’s an order in disguise. wordlessly, you step back, back, back until the wood of your bedframe presses against the soft plushness of the back of your thighs. jeno has not moved, choosing to stay put and appraise you instead. his eyes are hooded now, and as his gaze trails from your neck - he’d marked it up earlier, the kiss-bitten bruises not yet having faded from your skin - down to the curve of your chest, over the expanse of your thighs, he can’t help but reach one hand down to his dick, swiping two fingers over its head to collect his precum on his skin.

jeno says nothing else, makes no other move. it’s to give you an illusion of control, you suppose. not that you need one.

“should i rid myself of this, lionheart?” you ask, the words coming out breathier than intended. the nightgown leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and you’re sure he can even see the slick wetness that’s pooling against your inner thighs. jeno adores seeing your body more than anything, but the gown does not inhibit that.

it’s no surprise, then, when he shakes his head no, instead finally moving to stand at the edge of the bed, slotting himself between your thighs as they naturally move apart to fit him in. his clean hand slides up under your gown, resting just above your cunt, as he raises his other hand to your face.

“lie back, and open.” jeno states, no air of leniency about him anymore. you oblige, and your love leans over you, his dark gaze centered on your parted lips.

he lays his two precum-coated fingertips against your tongue, pressing in and then down and revelling when you don’t gag but instead run your tongue over his fingers, cleaning them off for him. you haven’t gagged in a long time, your reflexes getting used to him in the way the rest of you is. when he withdraws his hand, your mouth stays open, and jeno can’t help himself as he leans over you and, after gathering it in his own mouth for a moment, allows his own spit to fall from his own tongue and onto yours.

your eyes go wide at the action, and you know that he notices it even as he does not acknowledge it. even so, you don’t miss the smirk that crosses his face upon hearing your breath hitch. jeno has you in his palm.

satisfied, he stands, and you close your mouth and swallow a part of him with a part of you. jeno’s no longer looking at your face, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he’s ruching up your nightgown with growing hunger, not when he’s kneeling on the stone ground just to make himself eye-level with your pretty, pretty pussy.

“i took you hardly any time ago,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin as his mouth nears where you so desperately need him. “and yet here you are, laid open once more, all for me. only for me.”

“always you, jeno, please - ” you can’t get any more words out, the air being pulled out of you as he dives in and circles your clit with his tongue, bringing his two spit-soaked fingers up to press into you with almost no resistance. your reaction is instantaneous, walls clenching like a vice around his fingers as he lays a filthy kiss against your bundle of nerves, hips jumping up only to be kept down by jeno’s other hand, pressing down against the bottom of your stomach.

“patience.” he pulls off of your clit just to growl the word out against the skin of your inner thigh, and the wet heat of his mouth directly against your flesh has you practically gasping out. when jeno sinks his teeth into your thigh as he’s often wont to do, you let out a full-bodied whine, the kind that starts in the back of your throat and rises up through the inner column of your neck, meant only for your lover’s ears. jeno laves his tongue over the marks he’s just created, as if to wash the pleasurable pain from your body.

he does not reattach his mouth to your core, choosing instead to fall back and watch, eyes trained, as he scissors you open. with hardly any warning rather than his gaze jumping up to meet your own momentarily, jeno presses his thumb into your clit, using your slick wetness to eliminate any raw friction as he rubs slow circles against your nerve endings. he’s never failed to bring you to the edge with ease, and now is no different. you’d be embarrassed at how easily you fall apart just from his simple simultaneous motions, in and on you, but it’s jeno, and he knows your body maybe even better than he knows his own.

keening, a loud, gasping wail, falls from your lips only for jeno to rise from his place in between your thighs and swallow your sounds with his open mouth, his clean hand coming up to cage you in against your sheets. the way you raise your arms to loop them around his neck is akin to the way a drowning man would grab on to a lifeline, and once he rises you pull him back into a longer, filthier kiss, where your teeth click against his and his tongue opens up your mouth the same way it feels like his touch opens up your body.

you feel as if you’re being flayed, as if hellfire is the only thing comparable to the heat against your skin. jeno steps closer, just by the tiniest bit, and you feel his hand - the one shining with your arousal - brush past your hip before he uses it to wet his cock with one, two, three firm strokes. copious amounts of precum arise from the tip before being pulled down against his flesh with expert downstrokes. your mouth waters as you watch.

“my mouth, lionheart, please?” you finally gain the courage to ask what is on your mind, sitting up on your elbows as you begin to slowly find your strength. your love raises an eyebrow, and not without reason: jeno is a big man, making even you - a literal monarch - feel small at times, and this does not end with his personality or his person: you have never been able to take all of him into your mouth. the ache borders on painful, frankly, and jeno himself refuses to harm you in that way.

“this, now, is about you.” he responds, and your heart cracks as you register that as a ‘no’. still, you speak again. you need him in your mouth, suddenly. it isn’t just a want. something has to anchor you to the here and now, it may as well be the head of his cock, heavy against your tongue.

“what is about me is about you as well,” you respond, and before he can lay his refusal down out flat, you slide onto the floor - warmer than expected - and tuck your heels behind your bare ass. “i need this. please.”

you’re directly in front of him now, face parallel to his strong thighs. jeno strokes up, squeezes tighter just below his frenulum, and you watch, struck, as precum beads at the tip and then splits into two streams, half sliding down his hard dick and the other slowly-but-surely falling to the ground, hardly a quarter of a step from one of your knees.

“give me your hand, then,” your knight murmurs from above you, drawing your gaze from his leaking cock up past the dainty curve of his lip to his hard eyes. “now.”

when you raise your hand up, you only put it up limply, unsure of what he means to do with the limb he’s asked for. your eyes must be swimming with questions, because jeno gives you a hint of a sweet, reassuring smile before allowing his expression to become stoic again… right before he grasps your given hand and straightens it out, gentler than expected from such a great warrior but harsher than he truly ever treats you.

he’s passionate. this demonstrates it.

before you can react, your body following your hand up off of your heels, though only slightly, as he yanks up your hand, jeno leans down and licks up your hand, from the bottom of your palm to the top, all while maintaining eye contact with you. he lets go, though you keep your hand raised, your gaze obviously dumbfounded.

“a dry hand would rub me raw,” he explains, though the smirk that’s tugging at one corner of his mouth shows that he finds your wide-eyed expression at least mildly amusing. “we do not want that, do we?”

it’s amazing how easily he can get you under his thumb when you give out orders that hold his life in the balance on a day-to-day basis. maybe that’s why he finds taking charge in private so easy. maybe it’s his way of evening your dynamic out. even now, as he asks you an innocent question with no hidden meaning or reaction, you find yourself shaking your head along enthusiastically. no, of course you don’t want to rub him raw. of course you and him don’t want that.

you raise the hand now deemed ‘not dry’ up as jeno watches, finally, finally wrapping your hand around it. your thumb and middle finger do not meet, no matter how tight you squeeze. your lover lets out a fulfilled groan at finally feeling a touch other than his own on his hard cock, and it’s a beautiful sound. you want more of it. you want more of him.

as if mesmerized, you lean closer, darting out your tongue to lick experimentally at his slit. he holds his breath, a large hand coming to rest lightly against the back of your head and base of your skull, waiting. you take this as a sign to stretch your lips wider, engulfing the entire tip of his cock in your hot mouth. his grip tightens in your hair, and, in return, you clench around nothing.

as you struggle to take more of jeno in your mouth, you do your best to stroke the rest of his cock with a tight enough grip to make him feel everything, but not tight to the point where you’re hurting him. regardless of how little you can take on your tongue - not your fault, by any means - jeno seems happy, barely able to stop himself from bucking up into the back of your throat. at this point, you’re essentially just warming his cock, so you pull off with a slick pop to look at him with slightly watery eyes. a string of precum and saliva connects your bottom lip and his tip, and when it breaks, you’re acutely aware of the mixture dripping down your chin and onto your nightgown. it’s no matter.

jeno’s thumb runs over your scalp, just above the bottom of your skull. you close your eyes momentarily to take in a deep breath.

“you can force yourself down my throat, you know,” your voice is raspy when you speak, eyes fluttering open almost drearily. “i’m not too delicate for it.”

there’s something simultaneously raw and pure about the way you speak, and jeno recognizes that your headspace has changed, just a little. your need truly is all-encompassing now. he must tread more delicately than usual.

there’s so much love, so much adoration in your wide-eyed gaze. he only wishes to return it with the same intensity and double the care.

“i know, love,” jeno responds, finally moving his hand in order to place two fingers under your chin. he tilts your face up, taking note of the way your eyes run over his tattoo before looking at his chin, then his jaw, then his nose, then his forehead, until, finally, you land on his eyes. you’re a tad bit unfocused, full of need, but that’s okay. you’ll always come back to him. he continues speaking. “you’re so strong. always so strong for me. that’s why you deserve to be rewarded, yes?”

“rewarded?” you’re confused, to say the least, though you do not dislike the direction jeno is suddenly moving towards. he only smiles, gentle and kind and good and yours. all yours.

“on the bed, (name).” he tilts his own head, jutting his chin towards the bed you’d slid off of earlier. you don’t hesitate to follow, pushing yourself up onto your feet and all but scrambling backwards to be seated against the soft mattress. the blankets are all haphazard and the pillows aren’t straight, but that’s the least of your worries right now. jeno gives no other orders, only stepping closer and, without warning, winding his arms underneath your thighs and propelling you backwards, causing you to land, back flat, in the center of your bed.

it had always felt inescapably large when you’d slept in it alone. now, it feels welcoming. safe.

“you’re ready for me, yes?” the tone of voice jeno uses is soft, even as his rough palms push apart your thighs. you nod, murmuring a small ‘yes’ once you realize he’s waiting for you to verbalize your thoughts. this is all jeno needs to climb onto the bed and move in between your spread legs, settling back on his calves as his hands smooth over your hip bones and waist. it’s evident that he’s bent on taking his time with you tonight, likely under the illusion that that is what you want.

it is not what you want. it is most definitely not what you need.

“i need you within me, lionheart,” one of your hands clutches at the sheets beneath you while you stretch the other towards your lover, imploring. “soon. now. please.”

“absolutely impatient,” jeno only chuckles in return, drawing an indignant whine forth from the base of your throat. he looks over your barely covered body once more before finally - almost in slowed motions as if to tease you further - rising up onto his knees. his hands stop moving against your skin, finally circling around the soft meat of your upper thighs. swiftly and fluidly, jeno pulls your body towards his, wrapping your legs around his own waist. his wet cock lies heavy against your pelvis, leaving slick precum against the apex of your thighs and the bottom of your stomach. he smirks. “is this what you wanted?”

the motion of being pulled into your knight had forced the air from your lungs in a surprised yelp, and the feeling of his warm skin - he’s always supplied so much heat, it baffles you to no end - against your own momentarily blanks your mind. jeno repeats his question twice, cocky grin growing with each utterance, before you nod vigorously and sputter out something vaguely affirmative. yes. yes, this is exactly what you wanted, exactly what you want.

you’ve been growing steadily wetter the longer your foreplay had drawn out, but jeno, ever-caring, still pulls back - his cock sliding against your thigh has you moaning - to slip two thick fingers into you, adding a third when he’s absolutely sure that you can take it. in no time at all, you’re grinding your clit against his rough palm, the friction absolutely heavenly. jeno makes no move to stop you, only gently forcing his fingers in deeper.

a fourth finger is added just as your abused clit can’t take anymore, and you spasm on his hand as you fall past the point of no return. your second orgasm of the night washes over you, and you can’t help the muted but harried gasps you let out as your hips buck up, driving your head back into the mattress. jeno draws his fingers out slowly, licking your essence off of them with practiced ease. once your body has calmed down, you can only let out a small whimper, still basking in the intensity you’ve just experienced.

jeno knows your limit, and knows damn well that you haven’t reached it yet. it’s because of this that, even as your walls are still clenching around nothing due to aftershocks that wrack your body, he places the fat head of his cock against your hole and slowly but surely slides in. the hands on your thighs move up to wrap around the sides of your waist, and his grip is bruising as he pushes deeper and deeper. even as he goes at a snail’s pace, you feel as if you’re being pulled apart only to be pieced back together again. you hold your breath.

jeno is halfway in when he realizes you still aren’t quite wet enough. he shifts slightly, carefully moving one of your legs up just a little bit higher, before swiping over your raw clit with a thumb he’s wetted with his own tongue. a moan flies forth from your mouth immediately, and a gush of wetness coats jeno’s cock anew as he circles over your bud with abandon. he’s finally free to surge forward and bury himself within your warm walls without fear of repercussions on your own body… so he does. the breath you’d been holding in is punched out of you, replaced with an honest-to-god wail. tears bud at the corners of your eyes at the stretch, falling as he pulls out almost entirely and slams into you again.

jeno does everything in his life in order to live up to the name you’ve given him: lionheart. he is just and loyal and thoughtful as an advisor, and analytical and fearsome and ruthless as a warrior. sex is where both sides of him meet. it is where he is not just the kingdom’s bravest knight, or the crown’s right-hand man. it is where he is your lionheart, and yours alone, where your souls intertwine at the place your bodies meet.

he notices how your hands come up to reach for him, leaning down so you can place one hand against his heart - against his tattoo - and throw the other one over his other shoulder. jeno’s nose is almost touching yours, though your bodies shift continuously as he keeps drawing back and driving his hips into yours with force.

he never ceases to make you feel full.

your walls grip his cock tightly, amplifying every movement jeno indulges you in. the slide is slick and wet and perfect, but it is not easy. the head of his dick catches on your clenched walls every time he pulls out just to slam back in, forcing you to feel him with everything you have. it’s exactly what you want.

he slows down his thrusting for a moment as he moves forward slightly, leaning closer still as he places one forearm against your head and raises his other hand to fondle your chest over your sheer clothing. somehow, this is no longer enough for you. jeno’s cock is fully sheathed within you as he swipes a thumb over one of your nipples, and the feeling of his skin pushing the cloth against one of your most sensitive areas has you shuddering in a way that causes you to squeeze even tighter around him. his hips stutter slightly, driving him impossibly deeper into you.

“jeno,” you rasp out, tongue heavy and dry. “my pillow. beneath my pillow.”

his eyes go wide as he processes what you’ve just said, his shallow thrusts slowing down. jeno gulps audibly.

“your- love, your dagger?”

“need you to touch me.” you respond, holding his gaze and watching it clear up from confused to comprehending you entirely. he pushes himself up from his forearm to his hand, sliding out of you in the same movement. you whine sadly at the loss of contact, but jeno mutters a good-natured ‘be quiet’ almost immediately.

“you know,” he starts, voice teasing, even as he pulls your dagger - black steel, quillions and hilt encrusted with blue jewels, black tempered glass at the pommel - out from beneath your pillow using the hand that had been fondling you earlier. he moves back down to his prior position, and your breath hitches as he presses the apex of the knife against the collar of your nightgown. “i’m already touching you.”

“more,” you moan out, the end of your word coming out almost breathlessly. one of your hands slides against his tattoo once more, as if feeling the lion will make it roar to life. “touch me more.”

jeno chuckles, albeit darker than he had been earlier, and digs the dagger into the cloth in front of it without any further ado. you hold your breath willfully this time, not wanting to actually nick yourself on the blade, as he moves down your body, cutting the sheer gown open down its direct center. your lionheart dots his lips against your flesh in a trail in his wake, scraping his teeth against your skin as he sees fit.

he leaves a quick, but filthy, kiss against your clit for good measure, eyes lighting up as you attempt to close your legs around his head on impulse, only to have them pushed apart even farther than before by his strong hands. once he gets to the hem of the slip, he throws your dagger somewhere on the stone floor - neither of you pay any heed to where it clatters - and rips it apart with his bare hands, hardly able to bear not feeling you around him for much longer.

before you can do anything or say anything or even think anything at all, your lover surges forward and presses himself back into you with a grunt that sounds almost like a growl. his hands knead at your thighs as he finds his rhythm with ease, pounding into you with practice as if you’re an art medium and he’s a skilled master. he’s everywhere, all around you and inside of you and in the air and in your skin, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“touching - ha - touching you enough now?” he asks, resolve crumbling bit by bit as he fights to keep himself from tumbling over the cliff’s edge before you do. you can’t dignify him with a response, unable to do anything but claw at his back and pin yourself further against his chest as if it’ll make even more room for you in his heart than there already is. he doesn’t need a response, anyways. jeno already knows.

he knows just how close you are, too. just as close as he is. it’s because of this that jeno moves a hand up to curl around your throat just as he circles your clit with two fingers of the other hand, continuing to fuck into you at the same rate as best he can. with a sharp cry and the arching of your back off the bed, you clench around him for one final time before he comes to a halt, barely holding himself up over you as he releases within you with a shuddering, gasping groan.

moments pass, stretching into longer than they typically are. jeno takes care as he slides out of you, climbing onto the bed and flopping down next to you right after. the feeling of his release, sticky and wet against your inner thighs, is unpleasant at best, but you can’t bring yourself to clean up just yet. instead, you turn your head to your side, your nose immediately brushing against jeno’s sternum as you realize that he’s turned his entire body towards your own. he lets out an airy laugh at the sensation, pushing half of the sliced cloth off of your body in order to run a wide open palm down your naked side.

“good?” he speaks first, asking an arbitrary question. ‘good enough to make you forget?’ is what he means, knowing full well that you could never lose thought of what awaits the two of you. the sentiment is what’s important, though, and you let out an agreeable hum as a reply. the sex itself was great, of course. he’s well aware.

“sleep, lionheart,” you say just as silence attempts to cloak the two of you. “we must be ready soon, as it is.”

jeno gives you no response, and you do not require one from him. instead, he pulls you even closer into his chest as if doing so will protect you from the crithagians across your kingdom. his entire world rests between his arms. you are both tired enough that sleep forces your eyelids closed swifter than expected, and as you fall asleep to your lover’s slowed breathing and muted heartbeat, you can’t help but, just this once, allow your worries to slip off your body as your torn nightgown does.

just before the rise of the sun, jeno will have to get out of bed and clean you up as best he can before donning his clothing, his armor, and his cape. you’ll put his helmet upon his head, pull his visor down over his face after sharing a kiss that could be your last. it is always like this. jeno will rouse the army, you will dress and arm yourself, and meet with your own private troops.

as the sun begins to take its place in the morning sky, luckily opposite your gaze, jeno will lead his people into battle, riding his steed far, far from you. you will watch him go, but he will not look back. doing so is unfortunate luck at best. you’ve ingrained this into his mind.

you do not know whether he will be back or not.

you desperately need him to come back.

all of that will happen in due time, but now, you drift to dreamland, safe in the arms of the man you’ve sworn to be with until the end. he tightens his hold around you, and that is how you spend the night before battle, in total comfort and full of love. no matter what tomorrow brings, at least you have this now. at least you will always have this moment.

the lionheart and his liege. your lionheart and his love.

for now, you are at peace in the calm before the storm.

#first #five #tags #dont #work #jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno x reader #nct jeno #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream

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the-insomniac-emporium · 4 years ago

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Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 8

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language? Warnings: None? I think? Please let me know if I missed something Notes: Bit of fluff with some anxiety/update on primary conflict. Next chapter will be a cute date with Dani, the one after that will be maximum h*rny, and then what will likely be the finale. Music for this chapter here. PS this one is a bit on the shorter side, but I hope y'all still enjoy it. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony

Chapter 8: Obbligato

(Obbligato: An instrumental part which is essential in a piece of music)

“Okay, okay, serious this time, please? I’ll give you a kiss if you try hard enough,” you promised, grinning up at Daniela as you did. A week had passed since your talk in the library, with the two of you spending most days together, and you were progressing nicely with the musical lessons. Still, your girlfriend (you would never get tired of saying that word) was prone to getting a tad ‘distracted’. By you, usually. Not that it was intentional by any means. There was only so much you could do to keep her focused when the two of you were this close together.

“I could just kiss you anyway,” Daniela teased, leaning in with familiar intent. Right before your lips touch, however, she pulls back and smirks. “But if you insist, I can handle the challenge.” Then she’s turning back towards the piano, carefully finding the starting position. Even with her prior experience, you were impressed with how much she had already learned, and couldn’t help but be immensely proud of her. If anyone could meet Lady Dimitrescu’s expectations within a three month timeframe, it was the two of you. Except, of course, you still had to double-check just what her expectations were.

In the meantime, you were excited to hear your girlfriend play through the sheet music you had written up. Most of what you were working with had come from the family’s storage room, but you had also found some blank sheets, and figured it couldn’t hurt to create songs of your own. This particular one was relatively simple. It had been based on a song from a game you had played years ago, and only posed a moderate challenge due to its interesting rhythm. Daniela had seemed to enjoy playing it, with you even hearing her practice the song outside of your lessons, but had so far today refused to play it seriously.

Finally that was going to change. Once she found the starting notes, she nodded to herself, then started playing. For the first time today her expression is stern, focused. Seeing her like this was nice. She was always cute, you just thought that she was extra cute like this. But you tried not to let yourself get too distracted, knowing that you couldn’t give her feedback if you didn’t pay attention. In your head you “play along”, fingers miming the movements, knowing that it would help you catch any possible mistakes. Throughout the piece there are only a couple that you catch, none of them being severe enough to ruin the experience. Finishing with a little flourish, Daniela returns her gaze to you, grinning expectantly.

“Well? I seem to recall you promising me a reward,” she said, perking a brow. Laughing a little, you roll your eyes, before moving in to give her exactly what she wanted. Both of you are smiling into the kiss, enjoying every moment of it. Soon enough Daniela is running a hand through your hair, and pressing against you more, tilting her head just enough to deepen the kiss. You’re blushing hard now, thoughts going everywhere other than music. It’s not until you pull back for air that you remember what you’re supposed to be doing right now.

“As wonderful as this is… we still have a few more songs to go over,” you murmured, despite how much you wanted to keep kissing Daniela. By the way she groaned in frustration, you figured she felt the same way, more or less. “Hey, don’t fret too much. Think of this as an opportunity to earn a few more rewards,” you teased, gently patting her on the shoulder. For a moment she simply pouts, but eventually she sighs and gets ready to play another song…

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

Rushing up the steps, practically two at a time, you desperately hoped that you wouldn’t be late. This was your third “update meeting” with Lady Dimitrescu, which by itself was enough to make you a nervous wreck. Add in the fact that this was the first time you’d be meeting alone? And in her personal study, no less? Well, it was safe to say that you were terrified. You hadn’t even been told why things were different this time. No, you were about as clueless as could be, given the circumstances.

By the time you make it your Lady’s study, you cannot tell whether your heart is racing due to stress or physical exertion. Regardless, you make it there in short time, arriving precisely at the scheduled hour. After taking a moment to settle your nerves, you briefly knock on the chamber door. There’s the sound of movement from inside before the way opens. Lady Dimitrescu has to bend a little to see out, but quickly smiles when she meets your gaze. Which was rather unexpected. The last time you had met with her she had been distanced, although still polite. Then again, Daniela had also been with you, and the focus was, as always, on her.

“Lady Dimitrescu,” you greeted, giving a short bow per customs. Then you were being waved in, brought over to a small sitting area, where you waited for permission to sit down. Once it was given, you relaxed a little. Maybe I don’t have as much reason to be nervous as I thought, you muse.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. There are no reasons for you to be unsettled, as far as I am aware,” Lady Dimitrescu said, smile disappearing for a moment at the end. But it’s back as quickly as it had vanished. Did she suspect something? Perhaps she had seen the way Daniela looked at you, or even overheard the whisperings of your roommates. Both thoughts do little other than renew your anxiety. Noticing this, Alcina frowns and shakes her head. “I was merely joking. Now, let us get to the reason for our meeting: How are Daniela’s lessons fairing? There is only so much I can glean from listening.” Glad to have something to think about other than your secret relationship with your boss’ daughter, you nodded and began explaining.

“Lady Daniela is making outstanding progress, in my opinion. Even with her occasional… lapses in attention, once she puts her mind to something, she’s quick to master it. At this point she can sight read nearly as fast and accurately as myself. However, we’re still going over vocabulary, as well as keys and their corresponding chords,” you answered, barely able to maintain eye contact with your employer. Thankfully, she seems to have accepted the inevitability of your nervousness. You were especially thankful now that you prepared to ask her a question. “My Lady, may I inquire about what specifically you expect from my teachings? If there are certain genres you wish for Daniela to be familiar with, or techniques-... I must admit I am unsure as to how to best meet your requirements.”

Slowly reclining in her chair, Alcina appears to ponder your question. In the meantime she sips at her beverage, holding the cup as if it were a fragile heirloom (which it could very well be), eyes looking into the middle distance. Then she gives a soft hum, setting her cup down and returning her attention to you.

“I suppose I can understand your concern. In some ways you have already exceeded my expectations,” she said, expression oddly plain in comparison to her positive phrasing. “My daughter has rarely invested herself in anything as much as she has in your lessons. For this, I am left wondering what she finds so captivating- the music, or the one who pulls the strings?... But that is not the answer to your inquiry, is it?” In that moment, you are incredibly still, willing yourself to keep a straight face, despite the racing of your heart. At your silence, Alcina perks a brow, expecting you to respond. You can’t, your mouth suddenly dry. “What I expect is a passion to educate, a drive to see my daughter flourish. I expect you to teach her exactly as much as she wants you to, focusing on whatever brings her the most joy. But I expect professionalism. Your duties come first, above your health, happiness, and all other desires. Am I understood?”

“Yes, my Lady. Of course, my Lady,” you replied, stuttering, eyes wide. Did she know? Or merely suspect?... There’s another thought, one you try desperately not to voice, only to hear the words fill the room before you can stop yourself. “May I ask where Lady Daniela’s desires fit into this?” Silence hangs heavy over the room for several seconds. Your employer has narrowed her eyes, lips curled downwards into a sharp scowl, watching you with thinly-veiled anger. All you can do is gulp and wait for her response. When it comes, you are surprised by the stability of her tone. It was almost as if she respected your gall.

“She is young still, with the mind of a lovesick maiden. Daniela does not know what she wants, not really, nor does she understand what she needs. If her… flirtatious nature begins to interrupt your instruction, then your response must be swift, and uninterested. Regardless of how unkindly she takes your rejection, I will ensure that she does not harm you,” Lady Dimitrescu said, giving a stern nod at the end. Though her tone was reassuring, you hardly felt better, considering you were far past the point of turning Daniela down (if anything, you had only turned her on). “Now, with that settled, I believe I should let you return to your duties. Oh, and do tell Cynthia that the tea she brewed was perfect, should you happen to see her.”

Then she looked away, practically ignoring your continued existence. So you rose to your feet, gave another bow, and left before your panic could devolve into a breakdown. Daniela is not going to be happy about this.

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #serenade #my brain got stuck on this for some reason #sorry it took so long #very excited for the date chapter tho!#gonna be hecking cute

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fukurodianthus · 4 years ago

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Its just skin

Synopsis: Self-love is not something that comes to you naturally. Years of self-depreciation makes it difficult to grow into the habit of loving yourself despite of the scars peppered across your skin.

But with your fiancé, Tooru Oikawa, you find yourself stealing glances into mirrors quite often. It catches you by surprise when you find yourself...beautiful?

Pairing: Tooru Oikawa X fem!reader

Genres: tooth-rotting fluff , a lil bit of angst thrown in

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: The reader suffers from body positivity issues and insecurities regarding her appearance.

Author’s note at the end!

(p.s. didnt proof read because im ✨lazy✨ might do it later when im feeling cute idk)

“Y/N-chan, can we leave already? We’re getting late for the party” Oikawa whined, tugging the sleeve of your shirt lightly.

“Tooru, stop being so impatient!” You pushed your whiny fiancé away and concentrated on covering up the acne scars and freckles peppered across your face with layers of concealer. No matter how much you tried, you could never make your skin look half as perfect as that of the girls who dominated your Instagram and YouTube feed. Every time you looked in the mirror, the taunting voices of your family members and friends would creep into your mind.

Oh my god! Whats wrong with your face?

Don’t you wash your face properly?

You’re never going to get married if you look like that Y/N! Do something about that face of yours!

Do you want me to recommend a good dermatologist to you?

No matter what the topic of the conversation was, people always found a way to bring up the topic of your skin condition in it. You could be talking about quantum physics for all they cared, they would somehow find a way to bring up the topic of your skin.

But they didn’t know all those sleepless nights you had spent on the internet looking for remedies, they didn’t know how you cried yourself to sleep every night, praying that you’ll somehow find that your skin had magically healed up when you woke up. But miracles didn’t happen in this world. At least for you, they didn’t.

You spent a humongous chunk of your salary buying medicines, serums, anything skincare specialists would recommend to you. But none of it could you fix you. Ultimately it all ended up in the trash and you ended up on the bathroom floor, sobbing as you looked into the mirror, face contorted with disgust and self-loathing.

But then, Oikawa Tooru stepped into your life. The first person who didn’t grimace as he looked at your face. He looked at it with childish wonder in his eyes, as if he was looking at something…beautiful? Every night, when you fell asleep in his arms, his fingers softly grazing your cheeks, you felt an unfamiliar warmth blossom inside your heart. If he could love you despite your flaws, what was stopping you from doing it?

But years of self-depreciation made it difficult to develop the habit of loving yourself. There are still moments when you found you yourself drowning in self-hatred.

Take the present moment, for instance.

No matter how much concealer you caked on your face, it didn’t look half as good as you wanted it to. You let out a frustrated groan as you plopped down on the bed. How could you go to the party looking like this, especially when Oikawa would be by your side? Everyone’s appearance paled in comparison to his flawless beauty. Then how could you, of all people, ever stand beside him as an equal? You knew everyone would be comparing you with him behind your back, their jealousy-tinged voices emphasizing on how someone like you didn’t deserve to be with him. You’d always be an undeserving lover for him in their eyes.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Oikawa’s voice was laced with heavy concern. “Do you feel sick? I told you to not eat that expired candy bar last night, but you didn’t listen-”

“Tooru, its not that. I think I look very fucking ugly right now and I can’t bear to look at myself in the mirror. I can’t go to the party right now, not when I’m feeling like this.” You buried your face in a soft cushion and let out a frustrated groan as you turned over on the bed.

“Y/N, did you start putting yourself down again?” You felt him plopping down beside you on the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Tooru, don’t lie to me, my skin still looks just as bad as ever.”

“You know, sometimes I wonder if astral projections are real.”

“What? Have you finally lost it?” Your widened eyes searched his face, trying to make sense of his words.

“If it was real, then I’d pull your soul out of your body make you look at your face through my eyes. Because there’s clearly something very fucking wrong with your eyes if you cannot see how damn pretty you are.” Tooru huffed, looking at you nonchalantly as if he was stating the obvious.

“Tooru-” you whimpered, turning on your side to face him.

Tooru and his horrible pickup lines.

Gosh, how can I not love him?

His chocolate-brown eyes softened as he pulled you into his chest. The sound of his heartbeat drowned all the cacophony of all the negative thoughts cluttering your mind.

“Y/N, I thought love at first sight was way too cheesy and corny to be real. But then, one day, back in high school, I saw Iwa-chan talking to you. You looked so fucking pretty, you know? The way you’d bite your lips when you were confused, the way you’d look down and let your hair cover your face whenever you were flustered, it was so damn adorable. I might have gone down on my knees right then, if Iwa-chan hadn’t been there. He’d beat the living crap out of me for playing my ‘disgusting tricks’ on his friend.” Oikawa took your hands in his and slowly drew circles on your palm with his thumb.

“Iwa wouldn’t have to beat you up, I’d do it without a second thought if you pulled any of that shit on me. I always found you very bratty, clinging to Iwa with that radioactive sweet smile of yours.”

“Wow, I was head over heels in love with you on first sight, while your first impression of me was that I’m a brat? No wonder you were Iwa-chan’s friend, you both are so mean.” He pouted, looking at you with playful annoyance.

“That was before I got to know you. Your brattiness started growing on me, gradually. Now I’m so used to it, I think I’d forget how to breathe if I didn’t hear your annoying voice every morning.” You chuckled at how his face kept getting redder with every insult that you threw at him.

“You’re used to my brattiness? Are you implying I’m still a brat?”

“Exactly. Looks like you do have a brain.”

“The most amazing setter on this planet doesn’t have a brain, is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but instead of asking me out on a date directly, you bugged Iwa to set us up on a date until he finally shouted at you in the middle of an English class, saying ‘Alright, Shittykawa, I’ll set you up on a date with Y/N, now stop running that fucking stupid mouth of yours.’ " You stole a glance at his face, savoring his flustered expression. "I’m right, am I not?”

Oikawa’s face reddened to the extent where it seemed that he would spontaneously combust at any moment.

"Tooru, c'mon, we both were emotionally constipated fools who could never ask each other out if Iwa hadn't stepped in." You softly ran your hands over his chest, savoring the warmth radiating from him. "Now stop pouting Brattykawa."

"You and Iwa-cha, both of you can never appreciate me before backtracking, huh?" He ran his fingers through your tangled hair, slowly massaging your scalp.

He knew it always calmed you down.

"Hey, did you really find me pretty that day?" You mind went back to how you looked the day when Oikawa first saw you. Greasy hair stuck to your face, cavernous dark circles covering your under eyes, face swollen as a result of pulling all nighters for a whole week. How could anyone, let alone Oikawa find you pretty when you looked like that?

"Can you not hold a conversation for 5 seconds without putting yourself down, huh?"

" I dont think I can Tooru. It still weirds me out that you, of all people found me beautiful when I looked like such a mess."

"Y/N I think we really need to try astral projections now-"

"Tooru, I'm serious-" You whined.

He chuckled, twilring your hair in his fingertips. "Y/N, after being with you for so long, I've realized something. You look for validation in the eyes of people who couldn’t care less about you. But when finally, someone who really cares for you and sees you as who you are tells you that they are truly beautiful, you brush it off. Why do you pretend that our compliments aren't heartfelt? Why are you so scared of being appreciated?"

Every day, when he saw you stealing glances into the mirror, he noticed how disappointment flashed across your face. He knew how you beat yourself up for not being pretty enough. You were never enough for yourself.

If your mind was a place, he’d waltz into it, shredding the self-destructive thoughts gnawing at you sanity into pieces. He’d untangle the mess inside your head, shattering the walls that bars genuine compliments reach your heart.

Oikawa wasn’t the best with words, not at times like this. But he’d give it his best.

He could feel the wet spots blossoming on his shirt, as you buried your face deeper into his chest.

"Oi! You dummy! Are you crying?"

"To-Tooru I just think th-that I d-don’t deserve your love because I'm not as good looking as-" You choked out in between an onslaught of sobs.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” He cupped your flushed cheeks and lifted your chin up, his eyes scanning your face in concern.

“Those fucking stupid scars on your face don’t define who you are, okay? Its just skin, Y/N, you are so much more than just…a piece of skin, you know? Honestly, we’re all just bags of flesh and bones if you look at it that way. Do you think I loved you because you were a particularly pretty bag of flesh and bones?” Even though you found his analogy slightly funny, you noticed how his face lit up with passion so you refrained from making any sarcastic comments. He was trying his best.

“Continue, Tooru. I’m listening.”

“I love you because of who you are. I love the way your lashes flutter when we stargaze on the roof every night, I love you how your hair is a tangled mess when you wake up, I love how your puff your cheeks in annoyance when I stop you from over-drinking coffee every night, I love how you whine when you spend hours trying to get your eyeliner right, only to end up smudging it when you rub your eyes absent-mindedly, I love how your eyes light up when I put an extra spoonful of Nutella in your sandwich…gosh, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Your grip on his hoodie tightened. He looked at you, breathlessly, scanning your face for a reaction.

Your stared at your reflection in his chocolate-brown eyes, struggling to find the right phrases to express the way his words made you feel. You felt your heart race as if it was beating in pace with a rhythm set in by a drug-induced ecstasy.

What would you call this feeling of warmth that washed over you with every syllable he uttered?

“Thank you.” You wondered if you could’ve said anything better to express how much his words meant to you. God, where were a the fancy words you had learnt from corny YA romance books when you needed them?

But he didn’t need to hear your words to know that you’d been moved by his words. Fancy phrases could never tell him what the faint rosy glow of your cheeks could.

“Stop thanking me for stuff like this. It’s my duty, Y/N. I’m your fiancé for fuck’s sake.”

“You’re such a sap Tooru.” You giggled, squishing his cheeks softly.

“Yeah but you’re hopelessly in love with this sap, so deal with it.” His grip around your waist tightened as he nuzzled his face on your neck, his hot breath fanning across your collarbones.

“Now let me go Shittykawa, we have a party to attend.” You pried his arms off your waist and sat up.

“Babe, we’re about to get married in a few months, you really need to drop that stupid nickname.”

“Hmm, let me think.” Cocking your head to your side, you pretended to be immersed in deep thought. “Nope, not happening.”

“Don’t blame me for what happens next.” Oikawa sat up and tackled you to the bed, pinning your wrists by your side.

“Ooh, now that’s hot, Tooru”

“You know whats hotter Y/N?”

“What?”

“This.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond as his hands slid down to your waist. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

And then he started tickling you.

You broke out in an uncontrollable fit of laughter, kicking him, trying to get him to stop.

Two minutes later, you both lay side by side, panting, faces flushed with breathless fits of laughter.

You caught a glance of your face in the bedside mirror.

Even with your reddened face, tangled hair and smudged mascara, you looked…beautiful.

You felt beautiful.

As you nuzzled your face on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat rumbling in your ears, his words kept replaying in your mind.

“Its just skin, Y/N.”

Author’s note: ahhhhh I kinda wrote this in a flow?? Its a comfort fic/drabble???Idk what this is tbh. This is very self indulgent because I’ve suffered from skin problems(cystic acne ugh🤢) all my life, so I decided to comfort myself through this fic 🥺👉👈 . If only I had an Oikawa in my life 😩✋

N E ways, drink water, get enough sleep(lmao the irony that I’m saying this-) and remember to love yourself because you are beautiful!😤❤️I’ll come for your kneecaps if you put yourself down🤩🔪.

Reblogs would be highly appreciated!

#haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu comfort #tooru oikawa #oikawa #tooru oikawa fluff #oikawa fluff #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa x fem!reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hqradiostation

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cobaincreates · 4 years ago

Text

smart decisions

warnings: drinking, angst, smut, fingering, nsfw, 18+

count: 10k+

hiiiiiiiii so i’m a horndog & i can’t get enough of rafe cameron (or drew) or college rafe & i also wanna cry over them so here you go. let me know whatcha thinkin’. please i’m begging you.

also the photo isn’t mine i got it from here!

songs i imagined - this one & this one

— — —

transferring colleges had to have been your smartest decision to date. going from putting your strengths into a place that was not willing to acknowledge them to, now, receiving credit where credit was most deservingly due. your first choice for school had been some place close to home, you figured why not opt for the cheaper option to save yourself, and your parents, a little money. you spent a few months getting into the swing of things, heading to class each day with a fresh mind and hopeful thoughts. it wasn’t until six months in that you realized you deserved so much better, and at a better school.

it took time, figuring out your best bet and where to go and all the finances. you definitely grew impatient a year in, trying to stick it out at home to receive your credits. but once the moment arrived, you packed all your things and moved states away. you loved it; you loved the classes, you loved your friends, you loved your professors. you were completely happy with your choice to go. your parents might not have been, but the weekly calls home for your progress report were substitute enough.

wednesday, 5 p.m.

you scribbled a doodle you had been going over and over, darkening the lines so much you saw it behind your eyelids now. you snapped out of it and looked back at your textbook.

the library was so quiet, you heard pages being turned from every corner, the chewing of gum from a tense jaw, and the soft snores of someone passed out in one of the private cubicles across the way. none of those things distracted you really since you had come to the study session with a couple of your friends, all three of you making a pact to get shit done.

melly was able to listen to music while she studied and was more of a typer as her fingers moved fast along the keys of her laptop. she came dressed in her comfiest clothes, sporting a knit sweater and joggers. lina had snacks across the table to keep her sustained. she was a strong believer that she learned better while being fed. it made you laugh still. she was a writer like you, very organized in her notes with highlighters and different colored pens. she even drew headers for each page for the hell of it. you wondered where she got the drive. then there was you, black ink, the main topic underlined, things to remember written repeatedly. you learned better after writing things down, you couldn’t just read a book and have the information implanted in your brain. as much as you wished it were that easy.

you were studying for an upcoming psychology test, one that you were sure would be a piece of cake given how well you did in the class itself. it was one you didn’t plan on taking, but you needed another course to get enough credits for the year.

lina was munching on some almonds, turning a page in her notebook, and picking up a blue pen. you were in the middle of writing a definition down and filling up the last of the page, your hand starting to cramp with how much pressure you were using. you flexed it once you put your pen down and squeezed an imaginary ball.

both yours and lina’s eyes flicked up to melly across the table who let out a low moan. she was pulling her headphones off and looking in the completely opposite direction of her computer.

“why is he so fine?” she asked, low enough for the two of you to hear.

you looked over your shoulder at the same time lina did and searched in the general area melly was focused on. all you saw was a guy walking through the library, sporting a backpack and a lacrosse sweatshirt, the hood pulled over his head.

“he really knows what he’s doing, huh?” lina said dreamily.

you furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him turn into a row of books and you glanced at melly as you faced the other way, planning on getting back to your work. melly was dazed as she still looked in his direction.

“who is that?” you asked after a moment of both of them still ogling.

lina turned toward you as melly closed her laptop a little to lean over it. “what did you just say?”

you looked between the two identical shocked expressions and laughed helplessly. “who is that?”

“oh, i forgot. you’re still new.” melly nodded in semi-acceptance then became serious. “that’s rafe cameron. he’s on the lacrosse team and we’re kind of obsessed with him.”

“it’s alarming,” lina said. she gave a quick glance over her shoulder then looked back at her notebook. “i love making myself sad over him not noticing me, but it’s fine. what’s even more alarming is how he’s still single.”

“i cannot express to you, y/n, how good,” melly emphasized, squeezing her eyes shut, “he looks with a little sweat.”

“you guys sound like stalkers.” you pointed out, smiling a little at their explanations.

“i’m not denying it. i said it was alarming.” lina shrugged as she looked from her textbook to her writing. “we’ve talked to him a couple of times at some parties, he’s a super nice guy but we just find him attractive. i think if i were a freshman, i’d be pathetically pining after him.”

melly hummed in agreement, her chin now propped in her palm. she wore a doe-like look, gazing between yours and lina’s heads and into the bookshelves. “don’t they have a game tomorrow? we should go.”

“it’s away.” lina said, but you had already lost interest in the topic and started reading a new chapter. you picked your pen back up, the muscles in your hand now relaxed, and the boy in the bookshelves out of your mind.

monday, 9 a.m.

you were going to be late and you hated the thought. there was no way you could miss this test when you had done nothing but study every last page for it. you even lost track of how many pages of notes you wrote for the test alone. it would be such a waste to miss it and it wasn’t worth getting a negative grade.

being late was not at all your fault. you had set your alarm early, eaten breakfast and read a few more chapters to get ahead, and packed your bag up so you’d be ready after a quick shower. turned out that all the showers on your floor were broken, the yellow “do not cross” tape like a bad omen. you started muttering to yourself as you carried along your shower caddy, going down to the next floor and finding a line to wait in. you knew it was probably your best bet instead of racing to another floor to check if there were more lines, plus you didn’t know how much time you had. you probably annoyed some people with the fidgeting, but all you could think about was the test.

it was ridiculous how long the showers took and how you had to leave your hair damp as you ran back up physical stairs. you burst through your door, threw your bathroom things on your bed, grabbed your bag and the few books you couldn’t stuff in. while leaving, the door shutting behind you, you made do with damp hair, twisting it up and out of your face. as you checked the time, you figured out that you had eight minutes exactly to get across campus and in your seat with a writing utensil ready.

even though you were late, you still held doors open for people, and you dodged others walking the opposite direction instead of the other way around. you kept checking the time as if the minutes would stop moving.

just as you were looking into your bag, your legs moving fast and assuredly, you ran right into something hard. you dropped the textbooks that you had been clutching, even with a death grip on them, and your bag slipped from your shoulder. a notebook poked out along with a pen rolling away on the walkway.

“woah,” the hard surface said.

“i’m so sorry, i was not looking.” you said quickly and bent down to get your things. of course, this would happen while you were in a rush. you supposed you were lucky it didn’t involve cars. god, that would’ve been so much worse.

“nah, it’s alright.” they said easily and bent down beside you, retrieving your things.

you scrambled for everything and shoved the notebook back into your bag. you spotted your keychain near their foot, their fingers closing around it before you could reach for it. you finally looked up as they held the key out to you, the ring hanging from their finger.

rafe cameron.

he looked different now that you could see his face better. and also, because he was so close this time. it was odd to know now that he had blue eyes and a light ghosting of stubble along his jaw and cheeks. it felt too personal being this close to someone you only knew the name of.

you felt a little silly for bumping into him, but you didn’t let it show. “thank you,” you said as you took the key from him and stood quickly to walk away. lina and melly surely wouldn’t give this up when you told them.

rafe had watched after you for a moment before turning back to his friend topper, raising his eyebrows in reference to what happened, and continuing their conversation.

you made it to class about three minutes late and sat in your seat, finally taking a breath. you settled in, putting your things at your feet, and digging around for a pen. all thoughts of bumping into rafe cameron left your mind.

8 p.m.

“you what?” melly coughed violently as she composed herself. lina was clutching her stomach, nearly dying of hysterics when the drink came out of melly’s nose a second earlier.

you held your head in your hands and inwardly groaned at having to tell the story. you were out to dinner with the two girls, munching on french fries and milkshakes. it was typical for you three to hang out on mondays since melly usually had a bad case of them each week. you had innocently slipped in that you just so happened to run into rafe cameron this morning and well, you hadn’t expected that to be melly’s reaction.

“i ran into him. i was late this morning and i wasn’t looking.” you could feel the embarrassment settle in as you recounted the minor event, at least to you.

“did he say anything?” her eyes were blown wide as she leaned across the table.

“i didn’t try to have a conversation with him.” you shrugged and picked at the plate of fries at the center of the table. melly gave you a look of mild bewilderment, the shock of it wearing off.

“missed opportunity.” lina joked, taking a long sip of her shake. “i wouldn’t know what to say either if i ran into him.”

you felt your shoulders loosen as the topic was slowly changing. melly laughed at lina’s remark, teasing her that she would’ve frozen up from bumping into anybody. you smiled and were glad that both of them didn’t take the story too seriously.

minutes later you were laughing loudly, head thrown back as melly was telling a story about her family and a public mishap with a tire. it was interesting to you to hear about what it was like growing up in a completely different environment than the one you did. you supposed that’s something you loved about college; getting to meet people from so many other states and cities.

you were smiling to yourself as you dipped a fry into your shake. just as you put it into your mouth and looked across the table at melly, her composure changed.

“oh, fuck.” she whispered and noticeably tried to look away. “don’t look.”

both you and lina turned around to look toward the front door. a dense group of bodies was coming in through the door, the atmosphere’s volume increasing with their chatter. toward the back you recognized rafe cameron. you weren’t sure at all what it was that made your heart clench in your chest.

“i said don’t look!” melly whispered louder. “oh, god. okay. act normal.” melly straightened up, trying not to be obvious with looking in their direction. you laughed and sat back in the seat. lina practically sunk into hers.

you didn’t watch as they approached, but you did look up once rafe entered your peripheral vision. he was with the guy from this morning, even if you hadn’t noticed him before. you just remembered rafe crouched in front of you while someone just as tall stood behind him, waiting. both of them were sporting lacrosse sweatshirts, along with some others in the group.

“hey, rafe.” melly said easily like she hadn’t just been freaking out over him a second ago.

you watched rafe lift his chin, smiling genuinely at her. you didn’t think anything of it when he glanced at you, the recognition so obvious as his face changed. he continued to walk to his table though, eyes steady on you for what felt like too long.

melly turned around and sank over the table, her mouth open in shock. “oh my god,” she said above the surface.

“oh my god,” lina said, turning to you in bafflement. “i feel like i’m in an alternate universe. did that just happen?”

“he just recognized me.” you brushed it off.

“no, y/n, he knew you. that was longer than five seconds.”

“why are you guys so obsessed with him anyways?” you laughed, trying to take the attention off you.

lina shrugged, seeming taken aback with the question. “i don’t really know.”

“because he’s gorgeous, that’s why.” melly intervened, dipping a fry into her shake.

you looked over melly’s shoulder, wondering what it was exactly that was so intriguing about the lacrosse player. you had had your fair share of athletes and could agree on some being drop dead gorgeous. maybe rafe cameron was just a nice guy all around and melly and lina just had pleasant interactions with him. maybe he was the type of college boy that looked out for everyone’s wellbeing and that’s what made your friends obsess over him. it could be a number of things.

thursday, 8 p.m.

you rubbed your eyes, yawning in the middle of it, and lay back on your bed. you had just closed your computer after typing up a 10-page essay. it was nine when you started it this morning. you were just glad your one class of the day was canceled and that you had time to write the paper before next week. plus, there were no classes tomorrow, and you could have a whole day of doing nothing. you were stoked, to say the least.

feeling a vibration beside you, you reached for your phone and opened a text from lina. incoming in 5, it said, followed by a rattling of knocks on your door. you rolled off the bed and shuffled over, finding her and melly with wide smiles. it was infectious as you felt your own smile appearing on your face.

“what are you guys doing here?” you asked curiously, stepping aside to let them in. the door clicked softly shut as you followed melly to your bed where she went to sit. lina leaned against the wall across from you, careful of your roommate’s things.

“we were invited to a party and we were wondering if you wanted to come with.” lina said, sharing a quick look with melly.

you glanced between them, eyes narrowing. “what’s so special about this party?”

“god, how can you even tell that?” melly asked, slightly rolling her eyes.

“you guys have known each other longer than i've known either of you, but you’re easy to read.” you laughed.

“i don’t like that.” melly said quietly to herself.

you grinned at her, noting her curls springing around her face. melly usually had her hair pulled back out of the way and it was very rare to see her with a different hairstyle. there had been some days where she had braids and you enjoyed seeing the change of pace. lina on the other hand always let her hair down. tonight though, she had straightened it and thrown it into a high ponytail. you hadn’t really gone to a lot of parties with the girls, so seeing them all done-up was always fascinating.

“seriously, what’s the deal?” you asked again, looking to lina since she was the one who had proposed the idea.

she shared another look with melly again before finally coming out with it. “it’s at rafe cameron’s apartment.”

you felt that clenching again in your chest, in that same spot from last night. you swallowed, feeling how dry your mouth was in the span of three seconds.

“well, it’s his and topper’s apartment, so not technically just his.” lina said, waving her hand in enunciation. she crossed her arms. “i have this study group with topper and he invited me and mel and anyone else really.”

“come on, it’ll be fun.” melly said, nudging your arm.

you looked at the girl beside you, ready to say no mostly in panic of seeing rafe. you had nothing to worry about or freak out over, but it was a scary thought. so many things happened at parties. so many things could happen.

“okay,” you said easily.

the prior fears dissipated quickly as lina and melly gave a small cheer and encouraged you to get ready, and to take your time. you spent the next ten minutes asking them what you should wear, going through your side of the closet. all three of you agreed on a plaid skirt you had bought a few weeks before on a spontaneous shopping trip. you only wore it once since then and had been meaning to pull it out again. you paired it with a sweater, something easy to keep you warm through the night instead of bringing a jacket along. lina and melly agreed excitedly when you changed and raised your eyebrows, searching for approval.

9 p.m.

holding on tightly to lina’s hand, you laughed hysterically to the point of tears and a clear indicator in the nether region that you had to pee, badly. a connie bailey rae cover was playing from a speaker near you, your laughter probably not as loud as you thought it to be as you calmed down. melly stopped her ridiculous reenactment and pulled an exaggerated disgusted face as she dodged someone trying to dance with her. you shook with laughter and took a long sip of your drink, tilting your head back to finish it in one gulp.

the party had been way more fun than you thought it would be, especially when you walked the four blocks to get there. lucky for you, you had been smart and worn flat boots. the apartment was a good size for the event and had plenty of space to gather, enough left over for those that wanted a break from either dancing or just to relax. some people you didn’t recognize had the large tv on, a video game on the bright screen. there was plenty of shouting coming from their general direction, a wave of arms and pointing of rigid fingers.

you had seen rafe in passing, but never made the initial eye contact as if to let each other know that you were near. stepping into the apartment and being greeted with his friend topper, you felt like you were intruding or trespassing by being in rafe’s space. you didn’t know him, or topper for that matter, and it felt odd to you to be in their physical home.

“where’s the bathroom?” you asked lina as melly went to get more snacks.

lina stood up on her toes and pointed at a closed door. “i'm pretty positive it’s over there.”

you gave her a nod and walked in the direction she pointed you in, finding a couple people waiting against the wall. you took a place there and acted as a fly on the wall for a total of five minutes since the line went fast. once inside, you took a deep breath, feeling refreshed at the open window and the cool air coming in.

you dried your hands and placed the towel back where it was on the counter and opened the door. the next person waiting rushed in rather quickly, making you stumble against the doorway. you laughed to yourself and felt the rush of sudden wind as the door slammed.

excusing yourself past a small group, you headed toward the refreshments. you were already thirsty after having emptied your bladder seconds before, but you were aware it was just the addictive alcohol buzzing through your system. it was crowded closer to the drinks, rightfully so, and it only took one person to move for you to see rafe acting as a stand-in bartender.

part of you wanted to run right back out of the kitchen and find lina and melly, but the other part of you wanted to give a swift kick to your rear. you chose the latter and walked over to where he was at the counter. he was in the middle of pouring someone else’s drink and you stood on his other side, taking in his appearance while you still could. the blue hat on his head read “obx”, turned backwards. he wore an off-white t-shirt, the graphic design on the back drawing you in. you were too busy staring at his shoulders molded with the fabric to realize he had turned around and you were now staring at his chest. you blinked up at his face, smiling lightly.

“hi.” he said, a small lilt to his voice as he recognized you once again.

“hi.”

“can i get you something?” he asked, and you felt your shoulders falter a little, thinking that was all he was going to say to you. stick to his image of drink tender and have you go on your way. but his body told you differently as he turned fully to face you.

“um, i can get it.” you said, the instant flight taking effect at the very prospect of being shot down.

rafe nodded and stepped out of the way, moving further into the corner of the counter. you smiled at him and poured your own drink, mixing up your favorite. rafe still stood there and you could feel the strong vice his eyes had on you. it made you a little self-conscious, but you relaxed with a deep breath.

“i never got your name.” rafe said just as you took a sip and turned to leave the kitchen. “you know, from the other day.”

“that’s because i was too busy bumping into you.” you let out a small laugh and stepped closer to him, out of the way if someone wanted a drink. you turned your back to the fridge and tried to find a spot to lean on as rafe looked down at you, a smile playing at his lips. “i am sorry about that again. i was in a rush for a class.”

“it’s no problem. i’m just glad you’re okay, we hit pretty hard.”

“y/n.” you said and held out a hand respectfully.

“rafe,” he slipped his hand into yours, warm and strong, and smiled widely.

“i think i’ve heard your name only a million times in the past week.” you admitted, knowing that lina and melly would kill for brownie points. “my friends are a bit obsessed with you and fully willing to educate the newbie.”

“obsessed, huh? lina and mel, right?”

you nodded and took another sip. rafe reached on the counter and grabbed a handful of pretzels. he held some out to you. “they’re nice girls,” rafe said easily. “i’ve hung out with them a couple times, but i didn’t know they were obsessed.” he laughed to himself.

you munched on a pretzel and froze at an idea. “you’re not going to tell them i told you, are you?”

“not unless you want me to.”

you stared at him for a bit longer than you planned, then let out a breath and took another pretzel from his hand. it was odd to be sharing food with him when just the other day you felt like your heart was tearing in your chest. at the moment, you could only feel a dull ache.

“so, how do you like it?” rafe asked.

“like what?”

“campus, the college.”

you nodded and swallowed some of your drink to wash the pretzels down. “things have been really great. i enjoy it here. it’s an immense difference than my first college back home, so i’m happy.”

rafe smiled. “and the party?”

you followed his nod to the people around you, glancing to your original spot where you left lina. you didn’t see her anywhere until some people moved and you found her and melly sat on the couch. they were playing the video game with a whole mess of guys. you grinned.

“the party is great.” you commended, looking back at him. he had finished the rest of the pretzels in his hand.

“good.” he nodded. “i always get nervous when top and i invite people over. we’ve done it a bunch of times, but there’s always the possibility of something going wrong.”

“well, you’re doing great. both of you. hopefully, nothing horrible happens.”

11 p.m.

you would be lying if you said that your conversation with rafe from hours ago wasn’t still running through your head. it was difficult not to think about it when you kept seeing him more often throughout the party. most of the time you’d catch his eye, or vice versa, and instantly smile. you’d then recall the sound of his laugh and would even hear it from feet away. the clenching in your chest was now accompanied by a swirling in your stomach.

you were pacing yourself with your drinks, but by now you were on your fifth of the night. you were completely aware of everything around you and you were enjoying the ongoing buzz. lina and melly were a bit more inebriated than you were, which only added to the fun.

the two girls in front of you were swaying to a song together, not even close to being slow tempo. it was very upbeat, the bass pumping through the walls. the front door to the apartment was now open since it had begun to get warmer with the more and more people that were joining. a few windows were thrown open as well.

“you remember how in freshman year you fell down that flight of stairs and twisted your ankle and practically bashed your head in and then your mom yelled at you and then your sister called to tell you she was pregnant and then your dad! oh my god, and then your dad was like ‘hey i’m thinking of leaving your mom so uh, yeah’ and then your mom was so pissed but then she was fine because she found a total hunk of a man to replace your dad like that,” melly snapped her fingers as your body started to shake with laughter. lina was laughing too, not at all bothered with a quick recap of her, very shitty, first year.

“yes, thank you for reminding me mel. i love when we have tantalizing conversation like this.” lina leaned her head against the others’.

mel giggled, a few hiccups escaping. “i think i need to pee.”

“god, you’re like a peeing machine.” lina sighed and tightened her arm around melly.

“that’s what drinking will do to you.”

lina rolled her eyes and looked at you as she brought melly to the bathroom. you asked quickly if she needed help, but she shook her head and promised they’d be back soon. you watched them go then turned back to the party, turning too fast and not feeling the presence behind you in the moment. a cool liquid pooled over and down your chest, soaking the fabric of your sweater. you gasped at the contact, your mouth dropping open and looking down at the dark stain.

“i— “ you looked up to tell the person it was fine before an apology came out, finding that off-white t-shirt on a very familiar blue-eyed person. “we have to stop meeting like this.”

rafe looked horrified at having spilled his drink all over your sweater, his eyes wide as they stared at your chest.

“that’s the most cliché thing to say.” you said, laughing lightly to ease the tension so obvious in his features.

he let out a laugh too. “you can borrow something of mine. come on,” he held out his hand and you took it willingly, realizing some people were staring at the accident way too curiously. you let rafe lead you up the stairs, the complete darkness on the landing causing you to focus solely on his hand in yours.

rafe opened a door and flipped a light on, your eyes adjusting to the brightness. he led you further in and closed the door behind you before rushing to his dresser, a whole display of cologne bottles on top. as he rummaged through the drawers, you stood just in front of the door, a little timid to step further in. you were holding your sweater away from your chest, already feeling the stickiness of liquid on your skin.

“how’s this one?” he asked, holding out a simple white one.

“you don’t have to give me a shirt.”

“it’s the least i can do. the bathroom is right there.” he handed the shirt to you and nodded just behind your shoulder. you thanked him and went in, closing the door with a click. you pulled the sweater off and dampened a washcloth, wiping the dried drink from your skin. pulling the shirt on, you relished in how soft it was and styled the piece of fabric so it looked better with your skirt.

rafe was sitting on a couch next to his bed, more like a futon, his hands in his pockets and hat off his head. he looked up as you came out, straightening his posture and looking you up and down.

“i’m sorry.” he smiled guiltily.

you smiled and walked over, moving around the small circular coffee table and sitting next to him. “guess it was payback for the other day,” you teased as you folded your sweater and set it next to you.

rafe rolled his eyes with a knowing smile. you glanced at him as you leaned back, feeling the softness and rigidness of the futon. “you look good in my shirt.”

“i feel better in a less damp one.” you said, easing the fluttering in your stomach. your chest clenched again as you crossed your legs.

glancing around rafe’s room, you admired the movie posters on the walls and the multiple lacrosse paraphernalia. one of his jerseys lay crumpled at the end of his bed, the comforter pulled over the pillows to look made. it was better than you did with your bed, you were pretty sure yours was unmade and messy.

it was a decent sized room, plus the bathroom was nice to have. you’d kill for your own bathroom again. it would be nice not to wait in a line. you told yourself that you just had to figure out an earlier schedule so you could beat the crowd.

after a once-over of rafe’s room, you looked over at him to find him already looking at you. he was fully analyzing your face, you could see his eyes flickering to different parts.

you swallowed and licked your lips. “what?”

“nothing.” he said quickly and sighed, laying his head back on the couch.

you squinted at him, now tracing over his features. he looked nervous from what you could tell, his hands moving in his pockets. you stared at his chest moving up and down slowly, the intake of breath coming as it grew bigger. his adam’s apple protruded, bobbing slightly as he swallowed. your chest clenched once again as you looked at his face, watching him look up at the ceiling. he really was handsome. you shifted in your seat, switching your leg over the other.

“that look wasn’t nothing.” you commented, breathing in.

“what look?” he turned his head toward you, eyebrows slightly pushing together. you watched every change in his face, from his eyebrows to his eyes blinking then to his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.

“the look of ‘i want to eat you up’.”

he laughed, the couch shaking with him. “what does that entail?”

“major gazing and bedroom eyes.”

“bedroom eyes, huh?” he hummed and lifted his head. his lips tugged at a smirk.

“am i imagining things?” you asked seriously, slightly doubting if you made the right call. maybe he wasn’t thinking what you thought he had been. maybe you were imagining things.

rafe didn’t answer, instead looking down at the floor. the smirk alone told you that you had been right. his hands flexed in his pockets, hard for you to miss. a few silent minutes passed, the both of you listening to the party still going on downstairs.

“if you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.” you said quietly. after a moment you figured he hadn’t heard you, that he had lost himself in staring at the carpet.

“can i?”

“yes,” you nodded.

rafe sat up and met your eyes, moving closer until his thigh was touching yours. you shifted your upper half closer to him, feeling a wave of shivers run through you the second his hand touched your cheek. you instinctively pressed your legs tighter together as your heartbeat picked up and rafe lowered over you, licking his lips once more. they were soft and firm, just as they needed to be. he tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing just beside your mouth as you kissed.

seconds later, you brought your own hands to his face. you were eager to touch him, to feel the solidness of him against you. it was mostly a reassurance that this was in fact happening and that you weren’t dreaming. you pushed a hand into his hair just behind his ear and mirrored the last few pecks he was leaving you before he fully pulled away. you felt a pinch of disappointment, the small taste for him now growing bigger. you had to stop your hands from pulling him back.

he pulled away only a little and you opened your eyes to see him still so close and looking over your face. your breaths mingled together.

“what?” you huffed, letting your head fall back for a second in slight irritation. you just wanted to kiss him again. you let your hand slide down from his hair, resting near his shoulder. you wanted to squeeze the muscle under your hand.

“nothing.” he said again, eyes flickering down to your lips once more. he smiled, holding himself up on the back of the couch. his thumb brushed the same spot on your cheek. “don’t tell anyone, but i’ve been imagining this since you showed up tonight.”

you returned your hand to his hair, slightly scratching with a smile. “i knew you spilled your drink on purpose.”

rafe grinned widely and moved back into you. this kiss was deeper, your lips opening for him when you felt his tongue. his hand left your cheek and appeared on your hip, ever so slightly pushing your shirt up so he could touch your skin at your waist. you smiled against him as you felt his hand slowly creep up the shirt. you were reminded again that it was his and you pulled him closer by the back of the neck, hearing a soft moan leave his lips. your thighs squeezed, your excitement starting to rise.

“you just gave it to me and now you want to take it off?” you teased as rafe’s hand covered one of your breasts, the cool air of the room reaching your skin. rafe smiled and kissed you again.

his hand disappeared, apparently changing his mind, and reappeared on your thigh. you breathed in sharply at the warmth coming from his palm, resting just above your knee. your brain started to spaz for a moment and you imagined a bunch of smaller yous, running in circles like their heads were cut off.

rafe’s hand stayed steady as you uncrossed your legs, a silent invitation. he moved to kiss the corner of your mouth. “is this okay?”

the fact that he was pulling away multiple times to check in on you had to be evidence enough of why lina and melly liked him so much. you hadn’t met many guys that were so in tune with consent or caring about what you wanted. it turned you on seeing it coming from him.

“yes.” you nodded as you touched his forearm, not wanting to seem too eager.

you anticipated his hand moving and when it did, you held back the moan. you were much too eager for teasing and he was showing no signs of not giving you want you wanted. as he got closer to you, you placed your hand over his. he pulled you back for a kiss and you decided to focus on that for a moment to lessen your nerves.

his touch was soft once he met your underwear. his fingers pressed over you and you shivered from how wet you had become because of him. he hummed into your mouth, only adding to the pooling between your legs. his hand reached back and pushed your skirt further up so he could get to you more easily.

you let out a satisfied sigh against his lips as he ran a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness. your underwear had been pushed to the side, out of the way, finally feeling his touch.

“are you this wet for me?” he asked. you nodded against his forehead and pulled him back, letting out a moan as he brushed over your clit. it was only for a second, but you were about ready to burst.

you opened your legs wider for rafe, his fingers moving over you and exploring the new area. you gripped his hand to silently ask him for more along with an impatient moan. you wanted his fingers so badly in places you weren’t ready to admit yet. he wanted the opposite.

“talk to me.” he said, nudging the side of your face with his nose, planting a kiss to your jaw. you opened your eyes that had fallen shut, your breath getting heavier. your chest felt like it was going to cave in.

“please,” you said, adjusting your hips. “please, touch me.”

“i am.” he pulled away, a menacing smirk on his face just to gauge your reaction.

you huffed out and pulled his hand closer. “you know what i mean, rafe.”

“i like when you say my name.” he pressed a kiss to your lips sweetly.

“i might like when you touch me, so get on with it already.”

rafe laughed huskily, his breath blowing over your face. “you want my fingers?”

you wanted to roll your eyes at how badly he wanted you to beg, but you wanted his fingers more. “yes, please. i want your fingers. give me something.”

you let go of his hand as he finally pushed a finger into you. you adjusted around him for a moment and felt the need to close your legs to keep him there. he pulled your lips back to his, his tongue quick to lick into you. you held his face again as his finger started to move inside of you.

“you want another, pretty girl?” he asked after a few moments passed. you nodded again, breathing hoarsely, too intoxicated in him to speak. a second finger pushed into you then, stretching you ever so slightly. you sighed, letting your head fall back to the couch.

“you’re so wet.” he said as he moved his fingers, delighting in the sounds he was making with you in the palm of his hand. “you’re taking my fingers so well, y/n. do they feel good?”

you moaned as he said your name for the first time. it was something you didn’t think you’d like so much, but with the current situation, it was wonderful.

rafe’s lips appeared on your neck. you held the back of his head as he pressed a few kisses then closed his lips over a spot closer to your collarbone. if your breath had been short then, it was even shorter now as he worked to leave a mark on you. with all the attention you were getting, it only brought you closer to your release, and you started to move your hips. he freed your skin, startled at your movements, then amazed as he watched you chase his fingers. the spot he left throbbed now, all your blood rushing to two places at once.

“are you going to come?” he asked as you heard the start of song you had been replaying for the past few weeks. it was muffled and you could barely hear the words, but you knew it by heart.

“yes, fuck.” you looked up at him, taking in the sight. he was breathing over you, his eyes never straying too far from yours as your mouth opened in pleasure. “rafe, make me come.”

you squeezed your eyes shut as he kissed you hard, breathing deeply into your mouth. he reached his thumb to your clit and began to draw circles at a normal pace with his fingers. your stomach started to twist, the familiar feeling forming fast as he picked up the pace. he could tell you were close by the sheer dig of your fingertips on the back of his neck. it only edged him on more to bring you to your climax.

“come on my fingers.” he said, eyes half closed as he looked at you, lips brushing over yours as he spoke. you whimpered and felt your hips twitch before stilling completely, trapping rafe’s hand between your legs, as you came undone. his thumb continued to move to help you through it. your jaw went slack, eyes rolling under your eyelids, as you moaned loudly. you felt an overwhelming sense of content, the adrenaline rush coming and going quickly.

your blood pumped in your ears and it took you a few moments to register rafe giving you subtle kisses all over the underside of your jaw. you breathed in shakily and let your head fall back on the couch, your knees separating. rafe took his hand away and you winced as he did. you already missed the contact.

the moment was completely ruined as his name was called up the stairs. rafe’s lips disappeared from you as he looked toward the door. you didn’t know what came over you as you pulled your skirt down over your thighs, the footsteps heavy outside his door before a couple of his friends burst in.

“guys, come on. get the fuck out!” he shouted in annoyance, sitting up completely, his leg still touching yours.

“woah, sorry.” they said as they took in your presence. you shifted and knew that they could probably tell what you and rafe had been doing. they evidently didn’t care as they went into a whole spiel of something that had taken place downstairs. rafe tried to stop them and their alcohol-induced exuberance.

he looked at you over his shoulder, touching you lightly on the knee. “i'm sorry.” he said, his friends not hearing as they talked to one another. “i'll see you downstairs?”

part of you felt completely stupid when he said it, like everything that had happened moments ago was just an imagination. you felt your shoulders slump, but you nodded and got up anyways. the door was quick to close behind you and you were left in the dark landing, leaning against the wall to catch your breath. you smoothed your hair, took a deep breath, and fixed your underwear and skirt again.

your eyes adjusted gradually as you went down the stairs back into the swing of things. you swallowed, your mouth still dry post-climax. you went into the kitchen and filled up a cup with water, downing it slowly and stepping out of the way of some people. you couldn’t help but feel drained as you watched the people around you, laughing, dancing, and drinking. you had just spent the last 30 minutes in rafe cameron’s room and now you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“y/n!” you looked up at melly coming toward you, her makeup slightly smudged, but that didn’t change how great she looked. “there you are!”

you gave her an assured smile and finished the water in your cup. “hey.” you tried not to let anything show.

“lina and i are ready to go if you want to come with. i think we’re going to get some food somewhere in town. i was thinking curly fries or a veggie burger. lina is dying for— wait, where did you go? we looked everywhere.” her expression suddenly changed to one of concern as she stepped closer to you.

“i— uh, well clearly not everywhere.” you said shamelessly, feeling your neck grow warm.

melly opened her mouth to say something then stopped. “oh my god, why are you so flushed? what happened to your sweater?” she looked at the shirt, her eyes catching on something near your collarbone. her eyes went wide as you tried to hide the mark. “oh my god!”

monday, 4 p.m.

“i was thinking that it could go more like this,” your friend said as she pressed a few buttons on her laptop. a new beat started from the computer, the screen following along with the track. you bobbed your head along with the beat.

the campus coffeeshop was somewhere you liked to go, mostly to meet your friends, but you also enjoyed the coffee. sometimes before class you’d make it just in time to get an extra scone before they were all gone. it was a cozy place too, filled with older antiques and an endless display of guitars on every wall. sometimes they’d have an open mic for students, letting anyone with any sort of musical or comical talent perform. most of the acts were later in the week though so no one had to worry about coursework.

after your classes today, you had met up with a friend you hadn’t seen in a while. she was eager to show you what she had been working on for her musical composition classes and you had expressed that you were willing to listen.

the past weekend had been spent mulling over a certain party and a certain someone you couldn’t seem to forget. not that you tried to, to be fair. you’d hadn’t seen him since, which was nothing new given the amount of times you had encountered the boy since that day on campus or seen him for the first time in the library. you didn’t find things weird, but things were left upspoken and it had been bothering you. you knew that melly or lina could’ve easily gotten his number for you, had you asked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to, nor did you know what you would say. all you could do was hope that he was doing well and maybe, perhaps, thinking of you too.

it was inevitable to escape having to talk about what happened in rafe’s room with melly and lina. you weren’t willing to share all of the details right down to what he smelled like, but you didn’t deny that nothing occurred. they seemed satisfied when you recounted having to change your sweater and rafe being kind enough to offer you one of his shirts.

speaking of the shirt, you had gone to your dorm that night and taken it off, seeing that “cameron” was written on the back, along with a large number. no doubt it was for lacrosse. the prospect of it made you shiver before folding it up to leave on your desk. you hadn’t touched it since.

“christ, i've got a meeting with my advisor soon.” your friend said, quickly exiting the program on her screen and closing her computer. “thank you again so much for listening. i can’t express how relieving it is to have someone do this.”

you waved her off with a sweet smile and packed up your own things. “i'm always around if you need a first-time listener.”

both of you stood and pushed the metal chairs in. you followed her to the exit, listening to her as she explained the reasoning for her upcoming meeting. both doors opened, the one from her pushing and the other from rafe coming in. you looked up as he met your eyes, and you couldn’t deny how good it was to see him.

“hey,” he smiled at you as all three of you paused.

before you could say anything, the words sticking to your tongue, you looked back to your friend. she was looking between the both of you, unsure of what was going on. you swallowed and acknowledged her. “i’ll see you later?”

a small smile came onto her face as she looked at rafe then back to you and nodded. the door closed softly behind her. you looked back at rafe as you felt his hand ghosting over your forearm.

“hi,” you said finally.

“it’s good to see you. come up with me?” he gestured to the register and you nodded, letting him take your hand. you didn’t think too much of it as you stood alongside him as he ordered. when the cashier asked if there would be anything else, rafe looked at you expectantly. you blanked for a second, remembering that you didn’t get a drink earlier when you first arrived. you had immediately gone for a sandwich, satisfied that that would be your dinner.

rafe pulled out his wallet and paid for the two drinks. he then led you toward the pick-up counter and faced you with a soft smile. “how have you been?”

“okay,” you breathed in deeply. you weren’t exactly sure how to answer. were you supposed to tell him how freaked out you had been? no, you decided, best not to. “the weekend was busy.”

“mine too. i've got practice tonight so i thought i’d stop by for some energy. i’m glad i ran into you.”

you refrained from asking him if he was serious. you could see on his face that he was with the way he looked at you. “rafe—”

before you could say much of anything else, rafe’s hands appeared on your cheeks and his lips pressed to yours. you kissed him back just as gently even though you wanted to do more now that you felt him again. he pulled away as his order was called, turning to thank the barista as he took the two cups.

“come to my place to study? after practice, i mean.” he said as he held your cup out to you. you looked at it then back up at his questioning eyes, a sliver of hope in them. you pushed down the question at the tip of your tongue and accepted the coffee.

“we’re just studying?”

rafe beamed and nodded. “i have a huge test tomorrow that i can’t fail, so yes.”

7 p.m.

before parting ways with rafe earlier he had finally taken your phone and put his number in it, but not before taking an odd photo of himself. it made you laugh watching it happen though. he promised that he would be done with practice around now and you left your dorm a little earlier than you planned to. it was out of pure thrill really.

knocking on the front door, you waited patiently for it to be answered. you shifted the books in your arms as you heard soft footsteps behind the door. rafe opened it, standing in loose-fitting clothes with damp hair. he smiled instantly and welcomed you in.

it was a drastic difference compared to the party. the house was eerily quiet, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. rafe turned to you from the door.

“how many books did you bring?” he asked seriously, glancing at them against your chest.

“just two,” you said defensively only until you saw the grin. you rolled your eyes and turned away from him to kick your shoes off.

he was chuckling to himself as he went into the kitchen and pulled out snacks to have. “do you want anything to drink?”

“water would be great.”

“smart choice. less sticky.” he said, his back to you, but you could hear the satisfied tone of his voice at his remark.

once he gathered drinks and a plate of snacks, he led you upstairs. it was brighter this time with his door already open and lights already on. you glanced at the other closed one down the short hall, finding the sliver underneath completely dark. maybe topper wasn’t home.

“how was practice?” you asked, setting your things down. he placed the plate on the coffee table and took a seat on the floor. you brushed your hair away from your face and sat down beside him.

“good. just ran some drills, normal practice stuff.” he shrugged, munching on a chip.

“is topper not home?” you set your books on the table and opened them up to where you had marked. rafe moved to grab his things from his bag sitting on the couch. he copied your actions and pulled out a pencil and a notebook.

“no, he went out with some of the guys for food.” he said easily, opening to a blank page. you watched curiously as he wrote down the topic he was studying for.

both of you fell into a silence as you started to read from your books. you were worried about it being a strange silence, knowing what happened the last time you were in this room. it was fairly difficult to push it out of your mind and to focus when rafe was right next to you, so close, along with the thoughts and memory of his touch. you pushed everything out of your head and concentrated back on the page you were reading from.

it wasn’t long when rafe’s hand appeared on your bent leg. they were crossed under you and he had placed his hand like it belonged over the side of your knee. you looked at him in your peripheral but didn’t see him look up once to acknowledge that he had in fact done that. instead you let it happen, ignoring the way it warmed up your skin. you swallowed in anticipation of him interrupting your studying session to turn it into a quick make out session, but the longer the minutes passed the longer his hand stayed where it was. after a while, you forgot about it.

if you had taken one look at rafe, with no prior knowledge of him or of the way his hands felt on you, you would have never guessed that he becomes so engrossed in studying. for the whole two hours that you both spent together with your noses in textbooks, he hadn’t once started a conversation. he kept at reading and writing, jotting things down in his notebook, while you held your head above your own book and soaked up every last word. it was comforting knowing that. the plate had even emptied, mostly due to rafe’s insatiable appetite after practice. you weren’t that hungry from your sandwich earlier.

“okay, that’s it.” rafe said abruptly, causing you to look up as his hand left your knee. “my eyes are going to bleed if i read anymore.”

you laughed lightly and looked back at your book. “are you sure you studied enough?”

“i wrote a whole ten pages worth of notes.” he flipped through them, the pages brushing together.

you hummed, still engrossed in your text. rafe shuffled next to you, dropping his notebook over the open pages along with his pencil. he let out a long sigh which turned into a yawn.

“are you done?” he asked innocently, his head appearing on your shoulder.

you glanced at him and shrugged him off with a smile. “maybe.”

“come on,” he groaned and reached for your textbook. you automatically smacked his hand away. he laughed and quickly flipped it closed and took ahold of your chin to face him.

“that was a dick move.” you said, punching him softly on the arm.

“pay attention to me.” he whined, letting go of your chin only to touch your cheek.

you eyed him as he came closer, finally kissing you when you didn’t punch him again or push him away. you kissed him back as best you could with the speculation seeping into your brain then. rafe seemed to be able to tell.

“what is it?” he asked when he pulled away, running his thumb lightly along your cheekbone. it was reassuring almost.

you looked at him, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. you also thought about how badly it could go given the answer you were dreading. “i'm just— it’s nothing.” you shook your head quickly and leaned in to distract him with another kiss.

he reciprocated for only a moment. “what is it? you can tell me.”

“i guess i'm just wondering what we’re doing.” you rolled your shoulder as if you had a knot, pulling away from rafe in case he didn’t want to touch you. his hand fell from your face and he leaned his side against the couch.

“what do you want to do?”

you gave him a serious glare. “don’t make this a game, rafe. i'm just…wondering what your intentions are.”

rafe adjusted his posture and sat up straighter, all his attention on you. his eyebrows creased and you bit the inside of your lip self-consciously, knowing this wasn’t going to go how you wanted it.

“well, i'm enjoying spending time with you.”

“studying?” you asked with a monotone.

rafe glanced away from you as if he were wondering if he said the wrong thing. “yeah. is that so hard to believe?”

you wanted to huff again, but you held the breath in. your shoulders started to tense as you became frustrated. not because of him, mostly because of yourself for not being able to communicate. you felt stupid for asking it, but you did. “do you like kissing me?”

“of course i do.”

“is that all you want to do?” you finally asked, quickly looking away from him. you reached toward your textbook, fiddling with the pages.

“no,” rafe said. “i want to get to know you.”

it was hard for you not to roll your eyes. rafe noticed and a second later his hand touched your shoulder, gently shaking it.

“i'm serious. hey, look at me.” he pleaded, and you did. “i want to get to know you, but only if you’ll let me. i know the other night was weird and i don’t know— spontaneous, but i enjoyed it and i enjoy being around you. you’re not the only one who’s been thinking about it.”

“i’ve probably been thinking about it more than you.” you chided in a quiet voice, trying to tease him. you were pleased by the answer he gave you and you felt a little silly for being so stubborn at first.

rafe smiled slightly, eyes soft. “let’s just keep doing what we’re doing and see where it goes, okay?”

you took a deep breath in, pushing your book away and nodding. “okay.”

rafe’s hand rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before he pulled you in for an awkwardly placed hug. the side of your body fell into his chest, but he hugged you, nonetheless, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. you turned into him and smiled widely, your cheeks strained to hold it, and hugged him around the shoulders.

all the time spent worrying about whether he reciprocated your feelings or thoughts were so obviously wasted as you spent the rest of the night together. you took it slow, never straying from innocent kisses as you curled up together to watch a movie. you couldn’t help grinning multiple times throughout the night, knowing that things wouldn’t be difficult like you thought. it was easy when you expressed yourself and talked things over, even mentioning small things made a difference. maybe this would turn out to be another smart decision. you had a feeling there were plenty of possibilities with rafe cameron, but only time would tell.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #college!rafe cameron x reader #college!rafe cameron #college!rafe #rafe cameron au #outer banks #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron smut #college au #writing dirty talk kinda makes me cringe because im so bad at it but i think i did okay ???#rafe cameron x fem!reader

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pedros-mustache · 4 years ago

Text

the rising sun

summary: “be still, sad heart! and cease repining / behind the clouds the sun is still shining.” — henry wadsworth longfellow

word count: 2.8k

warnings: angst, discussion of depression/anxiety, general not-so-happy tone to the whole thing, some fluff thrown in there for good measure

a/n: to be honest, i almost didn’t post this. i’ve not been doing well the last week, and this fic is pretty indicative of my current mental state. i decided to upload it despite my reservations and embarrassment on the hope that this might give someone struggling just like a me a moment of peace. xoxo. ❤️

it’s raining when marcus comes home.

you sit on the living room’s padded window seat, plush blanket tangled around your legs, forehead pressed against the chill windowpane at your side. bloated raindrops slide down the glass, and you watch, halfheartedly willing one raindrop to reach the lip of the window before another.

the narrow street below your window is empty. puddles gather on the red brick sidewalks, and the birch trees planted in small earthen squares along the road tremble with each sharp gust of rainy wind. it’s cold out. you can feel the chill through the window, but you don’t pull away.

you hear the front door shut and marcus toe his shoes off. his keys jingle as they drop to the catch-all bowl on the foyer table, and then he’s hurrying into the kitchen, shouting as he goes. you can’t see him from where you sit, but his voice carries through the small apartment. you blame the high ceilings and exposed brick walls. sound travels too easily in this space, and sometimes it's too much for you to bear. you sink lower on the window seat, shutting your eyes against the sound of his voice.

“hey! sorry i’m late. there was this—this thing at work, and then i had to get the groceries, but then i forgot about dinner—” he sighs heavily, places something on the kitchen island that crinkles. “whatever, it doesn’t matter. i’m home. d’you have a good day?”

you huff in response. the sound gets trapped in the blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders.

“i got chinese.”

he’s close now, his voice dropped to an even timbre. you can feel him, feel the sudden shift of his mood when he enters the living room and sees you, curled up on the window seat like a pillbug caught in a storm. where he was unruffled before, on the verge of relaxing after a long day of work, he is now worried, concern rolling off him in crashing waves.

you hate that you do this to him.

“you okay, bug?”

opening your eyes, you tilt your head over your shoulder to look at him. you manage a weary smile, wavering around the edges, entirely unconvincing and pathetic. “mhm. just tired ‘s all. long day.”

marcus’s brow pinches. he puts his hands in his pockets, and the jacket around his shoulders tightens with the movement. “you’ve been tired a lot the last few days,” he says. his words are slow, calculated, like he’s dancing around the point.

you shrug, dancing around the point with him, a slow-footed, wary sort of dance. “i guess.”

“are you sure you—” he stops talking, removes a hand from his pockets, drags his thumb over his lower lip as he stares at you. his brown eyes are warm, and his stare is intense. it’s as if he’s trying to peel back all of your layers with his eyes alone, each bat of his long eyelashes another layer closer to the most vulnerable places of your heart.

you sit up, suddenly nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. frowning, you brush a stray lock of hair away from your face, teeth tugging at your lower lip. “what? what are you staring at me for?” there’s more than a bite to your tone, and you wince at the harsh sound of your voice.

he doesn’t deserve that.

turning your face away, you return your gaze to the puddle third from left of your front tire. it’s grown bigger, and your car’s reflection seems to flutter as wind pushes across the top of the pool of water.

“can i sit?”

you look from marcus to his outstretched hand to the empty space across from you on the seat. after your timid nod, he sits with another heavy sigh, his second of the night. you wonder how often you are the one to make him sigh like that.

he leans his head against the wall and watches as a bird swoops down from the roof ledge to a tree across the street. he sits in an awkward sort of fold, his legs too long to sit comfortably on the seat with you there as well. twisted at the waist, legs stretched to the side, he folds his hands in his lap and inhales deeply then exhales through his mouth.

your face softens as you wait for him to speak. you inhale too, mirroring the slow rise and fall of his chest with deep breathing of your own. the panic that’s gripped you all day begins to ebb. the blurry edges of your vision clears, and he comes into focus. for a moment, you allow yourself to study the lines of his neck, his sun-kissed skin, and strong jaw. he’s solid and firm in all the places you are not—physically, mentally, emotionally.

your chest tightens again at the thought.

he shifts his gaze away from the cramped georgetown street. “you forget to breathe when you’re anxious.”

ducking your head, you nod. “i know.” with a sigh of your own, you meet his eyes through the tops of your lashes. “i’m sorry.”

“why are you apologizing?”

“well, i don’t… i mean—” you shake your head, caught off guard by his question and the earnest look on his face. why does he have to look at you like that? so open and honest and caring? he shouldn’t look at you like that, not when you’re like this.

you study your knees, pushed tight against your chest. there’s a frayed thread on your pant leg. you pluck it off and drop it to the side. finally, you say, “i’ve been off the last few days, haven’t really been myself. i know i’m not fun when i’m like this…”

“not fun?” marcus scoffs as though offended, and your head snaps up to level him a glare. registering the look on your face, he lifts his hands in surrender. “wait a second—i wasn’t making fun. i just—” he tilts his head to the side. “baby, you don’t have to be fun all the time.”

your shoulders sag. you look away. you can’t look at him too long. he’s too good to you.

in the year and a half you’ve been with marcus, you’ve had your bad days. they come and go. you’ve taken to comparing your bad days to the ice-cream truck which wanders through your neighborhood from time to time. it’s never consistent, always appearing out of the blue after an extended absence, looking more and more worn down upon each new arrival. your bad days are like the neighborhood ice-cream truck.

marcus has seen you in your anxious moments: the afternoons where it hits you and suddenly you can’t breathe or think clearly and everything feels topsy-turvy. those moments you can handle yourself. you know what to do and how to bounce back without causing too much of a fuss.

he’s seen you in your depressed moments too: the evenings where all you want to do is curl in bed and never leave, your thoughts a swirling mess of perceived rejection and bleakness and despair. those moments you prefer to work through on your own, though he makes it abundantly clear he’s only an arm’s reach away. still, you know what to do and how to bounce back without causing too much of a fuss.

you don’t like to cause a fuss.

this week, though—fuck, this week has been bad, and you both know it.

from the moment you wake, it starts: muscle-gripping fear, racing heart, dry mouth, and weary limbs. you stumble through your morning routine, pushing it all down, down, down because you have to go to work. you have to do your job. life doesn’t stop just because you’re anxious.

when you come home in the afternoons, the bed is waiting, cold and unmade. you sleep—sleep the worry away and the fatigue away. it’s all you can do to be ready for marcus to return from the city. he doesn’t need to see you like this, a lump of trembling hands and bone-deep exhaustion.

this isn’t what he signed up for.

for a week you’ve been hanging on by a thread, shoving him and everyone else in your path away because it’s what’s easiest. you can take care of yourself. no one needs the added weight of caring for you, least of all marcus. if you opened the door, let him have a peek inside, he’d know, he’d see—it’s too much. it’s better if you keep this part of yourself to yourself.

“bug?”

you pull your face away from your elbow. “yeah?”

“come here.” he opens his arms, and it’s an invitation you cannot decline.

the transition from your side of the window seat to his is awkward. it’s a tangle of arms and legs in the narrow space, an elbow against his stomach, a grunt of pain, and a hurried whisper of apology. when you settle your back against his chest, his warmth pushes through the chill clinging to your skin. you’ve been sitting by the window too long. you turn your face to press your cheek against his shoulder, winding both of your arms around his bicep. you squeeze tight, inhaling his cologne and the raindrops still clinging to his jacket.

“there.” his chest rumbles beneath you when he speaks. “that’s better.”

“marcus, i—”

he shushes you with a gentle whisper. “hold on. just breathe with me, okay?”

you swallow past the lump in your throat and nod against his arm.

inhale, exhale—you follow his lead.

your eyes drift shut. he feels good, safe and steady.

unbidden, tears prick your eyes, and you are powerless to stop them. you push your face further against his arm to stem the sudden flow of tears. the taste of salt floods your mouth, and you sniff hard, dragging the back of one hand across your cheeks. marcus doesn’t say anything. he just drags his hand over your hair, his own cheek pressed to the crown of your head. he holds you tight, and you surrender to the weight of his arms around you, his body pressed against yours.

when the tears stop, you sit up to wipe your face. marcus drops his hand from your head to your back. his touch is smooth and gentle, and you laugh against the ridiculousness of it all.

“i’m sorry,” you say, dragging your sleeve under your nose. “i know you didn’t come home anticipating this.”

marcus is quiet for a moment. his palm spreads across the width of your lower back. you can feel the warmth of his skin perimate the thin cotton of your sleep shirt. “baby?” you turn your face to him. “you gotta stop apologizing.”

you swallow hard with a nod. “yeah, i know. i’m so—” he quirks an eyebrow, and you laugh despite yourself. “you’re right.”

“come here,” he says again. “lean back.”

you do as you're told, your head nestled against his shoulder. he slides his hands down your arms, a slow drag, until he can fit his fingers between yours and squeeze. he kisses your temple, and the hair on his cheek tickles your skin.

“i love you,” he whispers.

you smile—a genuine smile, small as it is.

inhaling deeply, you decide to lay it all on the table. you love marcus. if he ever asked, you’d marry him in a heartbeat. but you’re tired of running from him when all he’s ever done is proven himself to be a gentleman with a heart of solid gold. he deserves to know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but it. even if it drives him away in the end.

“when i was a freshman in college,” you start, shifting your back against his chest. “i dated this guy. we were together for only a few months, but he was a real asshole.” the way marcus stiffens behind you, his arms tightening reflexively around your middle, warms your cheeks. his subtle display of protectiveness emboldens your story, and you continue with a clearer voice.

“i was really anxious back then, like every day. it was a constant battle between myself and my anxiety, and he hated it. one night we were on the phone and i was telling him about my day and he got really quiet and then he told me, ‘i can’t deal with your anxiety. it’s too much.’ i’ve never forgotten that.”

when marcus says nothing in response, you twist to face him, laying your hand flat against his chest. you can feel his heartbeat beneath your palm. it beats fast, a hurried gallop in his chest. his eyes dart back and forth between yours, his lips parted in something akin to shock. you don’t give him a chance to speak before you continue.

“marcus? please—please tell me you can deal with it. i don’t know what i’d do if you couldn’t.”

marcus’s face crumbles. with tears welling in his eyes, he lifts his hands to cup your face. “oh my god, baby,” he breathes, rolling his forehead over yours. “i’m so sorry.”

he kisses you. it’s short and sweet and perhaps another thread in his apology. you grip his wrist, holding him tight, willing him to stay—stay with you now and forever, until the sun no longer shines and the earth vanishes to dust.

when you break apart, he skims his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. “what a fucking loser,” he says, and you laugh, tossing your head back at the sheer vitriol lacing his words. it’s not often marcus gets angry. to see a red flush on his cheeks and frustration in his brow, all over some guy you haven’t thought about in years, it makes your heart flutter in the best possible way. “no, i mean it! god, what an asshole.”

he sucks in a breath and catches your eyes. his thumb and forefinger move to grip your chin, a gentle hold but one that leaves you powerless to ignore anything he’s about to say. you steel yourself, lungs tight with anticipation.

“it—this—you.” he shakes his head. “it’s not something i deal with. i don’t deal with it. do you hear me? say you do.”

eyes misty, you nod. “i do. i hear you, marcus.”

“i want to take care of you. that’s why we’re together. we’re a team. teammates rely on one another—”

“marcus, i don’t watch sports.”

he smirks. “just humor me.” releasing his hold on your chin, he smooths his hand down the side of your face. “i want to help you. you don’t need to carry this all by yourself.”

“i just thought that—”

“look, all guys are idiots. if you’re feeling some type of way, you gotta tell me. i can’t read minds. but all guys aren’t assholes. i want to help you.”

you cover the hand on your cheek with your fingers and nuzzle your nose against his palm. “i love you.”

“i love you more. really, i do. more than the stars in the sky and all the—”

you pull your face away with a grimace, holding up your hand to stop him. “okay, please, that’s too much. too sweet, too schmaltzy. try and preserve some of your dignity.”

marcus laughs, a deep, hearty sound that warms you to the center of your being. he winds an arm around the small of your back to draw you close, his lips descending to the curve of your neck. he peppers your skin with kisses—warm ones, wet ones, gentle ones—until you push at his shoulders. he drops back against the wall, chest heaving and eyes glistening with mirth.

you catch your lower lip in your teeth and shake your head. “you hopeless romantic you.”

“guilty as charged.”

sliding out from between his legs, you drop to the floor. “you said you got chinese?”

“yeah, but it might be a little cold by now.”

you offer him your hand. “that’s okay. i’m hungry.”

marcus slides his fingers between yours. “i’ll warm it up then.”

as he leads you to the kitchen, your bare feet padding behind his socked ones, you catch a glimpse of the world outside. it’s no longer raining. the clouds have parted, revealing a bright sun. the sun’s rays drench the street in the warm glow of sunset, all orange and pale yellow and dusky red. you smile and lean against marcus’s arm as he sets about warming dinner in the microwave. he follows your eyeline to the window and throws an arm around your shoulders.

“do you want to go on a walk after dinner?”

looking up, you grin. “yeah, that would be nice.”

“the rain never stays forever.”

he’s not talking about the weather, and you both know it. you squeeze his hand.

“no, i guess it doesn’t.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pm writes

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