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perlukafarinn · 3 years ago

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sequel to this fic (read it for context. or don’t, i’m not the boss of you). i blame @hermywolf for this.

Things were tense for a while.

Now, Dean knew why he was awkward. He’d offered himself up as Benny’s personal human juicebox and something in his fucked up, wires-crossed brain had gotten so turned on by the act, he’d been about point three seconds away from grinding on his friend like a sophomore at prom.

He wasn’t sure what to make of Benny or Cas acting so weird.

Benny, and there was no other way to put it, had gotten really touchy-feely. Dean hadn’t realized how rare a non-violent touch was in Purgatory until it wasn’t anymore, until Benny kept putting his hands on Dean’s body, on his back, his shoulder, even his knee as they sat by the fire pit at night. Every touch casual and yet rife with some meaning Dean couldn’t comprehend, and every single one leaving Dean yearning for more.

And then there was Cas. When he wasn’t hovering over Dean, constantly appearing between him and Benny, he was lingering somewhere behind them, sour-faced and glowering off into the distance.

So yeah, tense.

It was the first time Dean was actually thankful for the unending stream of monsters in Purgatory. The near constant combat didn’t leave much time to worry about anything else. Dean was almost convinced that they could get past this whole episode without mention, given enough time and distance and distraction by monsters.

Then Benny had to go and get hurt again.

It wasn’t life or death this time but it was close enough, a lucky swipe from a werewolf nearly tearing a hole open in Benny’s chest.

Cas got to him first again, heaving Benny to his feet and easily holding his weight when it turned out Benny’s legs couldn’t quite support him. Dean got there second, a few moments later, heart pounding as he surveyed the damage.

He met Cas’ eyes.

“Dean, no,” Cas said, catching on almost quicker than the idea had passed through Dean’s mind. “You don’t need to do this.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Dean said, face growing warm for reasons he really didn’t wanna examine. “You’ll heal me after, right?”

Cas sighed. “You know I will.”

“He’s right, cher,” Benny spoke up. “Gimme an hour or two to heal, an’ I’ll be fine. You don’t gotta do this.”

Dean ignored him, stepping in close and pulling down his collar. “Shut up and let me help you.”

Benny laughed, low and strained. “If you insist...”

He leaned in and Dean closed his eyes in anticipation, one hand grasping Benny’s shoulder to steady himself. It wasn’t enough, the sudden pain of fangs sliding into flesh sending him stumbling against Benny until an arm wrapped around his waist, holding him still.

Heat stirred in Dean’s gut and he quickly tried to focus on the pain, on the unnatural pull of Benny’s mouth, on his knees still aching from the earlier fight.

It didn’t work. Somehow, the pain just threw the pleasure into sharper relief. It was all too much; Benny’s warmth against his side, his mouth hungry and insistent, his fingertips digging into Dean’s skin as he tried to pull him even impossibly closer.

Dean opened his eyes and oh, big mistake. Cas was right there, inches away, still holding Benny upright as he drank his fill of Dean’s blood, staring into Dean’s eyes with a look that might almost be mistaken for hunger.

Dean should have looked away but he couldn’t. He felt trapped, pinned down by the monster at his throat and the divine creature staring him down.

A pained gasp escaped Dean’s lips as Benny pulled away his fangs. He didn’t back off completely though, mouth remaining at Dean’s throat as he carefully licked up every drop of blood. Dean shivered, knowing he should be recoiling in disgust and not fighting off every instinct to lean in closer.

Finally, it was Cas who put an end to it, grabbing Benny by his hair and pulling him off. “Enough.”

Benny shot him an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Easy there, chief. Can’t a man enjoy a meal in peace?”

He wasn’t being serious, Dean knew. He was just trying to rile Cas up.

Did that make it more or less fucked up that hearing Benny refer to him as ‘a meal’ kind of turned him on?

“You are not a man,” Cas said, voice low and dangerous. “And Dean is not yours to consume with reckless abandon.”

Holy fuck.

Dean glanced between them as they now stared at each other, Cas all righteous anger, Benny stubborn as a mule. The moment stretched on, tension building, and as Dean was sure something was about to snap, Benny looked away.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, laughing breathlessly.

Dean shot him a curious look but he didn’t say anything else, letting go off Dean and backing away. Dean stumbled on unsteady legs but Cas was there in an instant, arm around his lower back and hand raised to cover the wound on his neck.

It was too much, too fast. Dean’s head was spinning, still trying to comprehend everything that had happened in the last few minutes and drawing a blank on any plausible explanation. He felt lightheaded too, the blood loss finally catching up with him, and as warmth poured from Cas’ hand, healing him, all he could think was

Have Cas’ hands always been that big?

The third time it happened, it wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination necessary.

Still, Benny had broken his leg. Even if it would only take a few hours to heal it would still slow them in the meantime. And even if he could still fight in this condition, why make an already difficult situation even worse when they had such an easy solution?

Cas didn’t protest this time. He took one look at Dean and sighed, sounding defeated. “If you must.”

Guilt stirred in Dean’s chest, strangely enough. “It’s easier for all of us this way, right?”

Cas didn’t look like he agreed. “Let me know when you need me to heal you.”

And he stormed off. Dean watched him go, the guilt growing stronger. Which was ridiculous, what the hell did he have to feel guilty about? Cas healed him without complaint after any other kind of injury. What made this so different?

Dean looked at Benny, who was sitting on the ground with his broken leg, watching the proceedings with an odd look on his face. His expression softened when he met Dean’s eyes.

“I hope you don’t feel obligated to do this,” he said. “You don’t owe me anything, you gotta know that.”

“I know.” Dean swallowed, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I just wanna - it’s not a big deal.”

He walked up to Benny, kneeling down on the ground next to him, straddling one thigh as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“You keep saying that,” Benny said.

He put his hand on Dean’s waist, steering him closer as if it were second nature.

“Cause it’s not.”

Benny hummed, eyes hooded, gaze unfocused and hungry as Dean leaned in. “It is to me.”

He bit down, lighting fast, saving Dean from coming up with a response. Dean didn’t bother to silence his whimper or to resist the urge to sit down on Benny’s lap fully, drinking in the touch of him as Benny drank his life’s blood in slow, deep pulls.

He didn’t take much this time, barely giving Dean time to get used to the pain before he was pulling his fangs out again, laving his tongue over the wound to soothe the sting of their exit.

“This isn’t a one-way street, you know,” Benny muttered, lips still pressed against Dean’s neck. His tongue darted out again, licking up a stray drop of blood. “I’m sure there’s something you want I could give in return.”

And Dean didn’t doubt for one second just what he was implying. It was hard to, really, with Benny’s dick growing hard against his ass, feeling impossibly hot even through the layers separating them.

It was tempting. No one had touched him that way in far too long and Benny was willing, more than. He wanted it as badly as Dean did and they were already half-way there, practically dry-humping on the cold, damp ground of Purgatory.

But… “Cas.”

Benny sighed. Pulled away and Dean missed the warmth as soon as it was gone. “Yeah, of course.”

“Sorry,” Dean said, not really knowing what he was apologizing for.

“Don’t be.” Benny looked up at him, a teasing glint entering his eye. “You know, he wouldn’t have to be a problem. I wouldn’t mind him joining in on the fun.”

A fuse blew in Dean’s brain. He shot to his feet, nearly stumbling over Benny in the process.

“That’s - I don’t -” Dean stuttered. “He wouldn’t!”

Benny gave him a meaningful look, though what meaning was completely lost on Dean, and got to his feet.

Instinctively, Dean held out his hand. Benny grabbed it, grasping it tight even as he got to his feet, steady as if he’d never gotten hurt at all. He leaned in and Dean didn’t even think, staying perfectly still as Benny kissed him.

He tasted like copper, blooming bitter on Dean’s tongue.

“Offer still stands,” Benny said, pulling away with a grin. “If you change your mind.”

Dean stared.

“Now go find your angel and get patched up.”

An order. Okay, Dean could follow that, even if his mind was becoming more of a jumbled mess by the minute. He walked away, going in the direction Cas had disappeared to and finding him a short distance away, standing in the middle of a clearing.

He looked up as Dean approached, opening his mouth to speak but whatever he had to say dying on his tongue. Dean stopped a few feet away, suddenly feeling wrong-footed and uncertain.

Cas closed the distance between them, slowly walking up to Dean, into his personal space and then closer still. He raised his hand but he didn’t reach for Dean’s neck, for the still-bleeding wound just below his jaw.

Instead, he softly cupped Dean’s face, placing his thumb on his lower lip. Dean froze, breath caught in his throat, heart beating wildly against the cage of his ribs like a frightened animal.

“Did he-” Cas started then stopped.

He dropped his hand. Dean followed it with his eyes, spotting the dark smear of blood on Cas’ thumb. Dean’s blood, left on his lips by Benny.

Oh.

“Be careful,” Cas said, finally placing a hand - his other hand - on Dean’s neck and healing Benny’s bite. “Behaving recklessly in Purgatory has too steep a price.”

The warning rankled something deep in Dean’s chest. He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to disobey, to lean in and smear his blood on Cas’ lips like Benny had done to him.

He ignored it. Reckless or no, Dean wasn’t a complete idiot. He knew a rejection when he saw one.

#deancas #deanbenny #destiel #spn fanfic #blood drinking cw #team purgatory #purgatory #violence cw #perlukafarinn writes

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frogtanii · 4 years ago

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embarrassed ft. matsukawa issei

wc. 2.7k (???)

warnings. SMUT, not proofread lol, mutual pining (??), friends to lovers (???), cunnilingus lmao, no dom/sub dynamics, well actually dom&sub issei if you squint rlly hard hehe, kinda cute, embarrassed issei <3, also one (1) WAP reference

an. it’s 2:30 am and i have no idea why i wrote this and who for???? i got the idea from a 🦋😳🙈✨ audio and was immediately inspired idk, sorry if it’s bad i lichrally have no idea since i didn’t read it after it was done :p

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

it wasn’t like matsukawa issei to be embarrassed.

he was handsome, intelligent, and funny, not to mention he never left women wanting after a night with him.

issei was the entire package and he knew it.

beyond superficiality though, he was happy with his life. he had a great group of friends, a nice apartment all to himself and a completely normal job.

yes, being a funeral home employee wasn’t the most glamorous career a person could have but he was happy. besides, it never deterred him from getting a warm body to sleep with which was a win in his book.

all in all? his life was great!

so why did he have to go and screw it all up?

issei blames makki and the dumb flyer for the reason his life went to shit. (maybe he’s being a little dramatic, but let him have his oikawa moment.)

he was minding his own business when his best friend (recently turned enemy) burst through his apartment door with a piece of paper in his hand and a fire in his eyes.

“dude, look at this!” issei rolled his eyes, putting down his casket catalogue and turning to meet takahiro’s gaze.

“why hello to you too. remind me why i gave you a key again?”

“because you love me and because i bring shit like this to you. look!” with another long and suspiciously tooru-like sigh, issei took the crumpled paper from makki and immediately stopped in his tracks.

“makki... what the fuck is this?”

written in large pink letters and a flowery, borderline illegible font was the name, coffee and cunnilingus. upon further inspection and careful reading, it revealed itself to be a little cafe opening up about 10 minutes from issei’s apartment complex who were looking to hire “young, attractive men who are proficient at eating pussy.”

issei could feel his eyes narrow and his mouth drop open in shock as he repeated his question. “the fuck is this?”

makki shook his head excitedly, tapping to another portion of the flyer that matsukawa had not yet read. “no, no dude, just look at how much they’re paying per hour.” issei begrudgingly obliged but the minute his eyes touched the (Massive™) number, he felt a little faint.

it was a lot of money. more than the funeral home was paying, that’s for sure. with that kind of money he could move out of this suddenly dingy seeming apartment and into a nice flat in the city were he’d always wanted to live. maybe he could buy himself a nice watch or even a high-end suit to replace the one from his highschool graduation (aka the only suit he owns). with that kind of money, he could erase his student debt 3 years ahead of schedule and get his mom into a nicer place.

it was these thoughts that clouded issei’s head as he found himself standing in front of a cute looking building, matching the address on the flyer. i’ll only be working part time, he thought as he pushed the door open to reveal an equally impressing interior with curtained booths and a wide variety of coffee on the menu. i’m only doing it for extra money, he thought as he shook the owner’s hand after he finished his successful interview. no one can ever know, he thought as he dressed himself in the uniform on his first day.

thus began issei’s super secret side hustle where he ate women out for cash.

sounds worse when you say it outright but it was just working. he was good at it, the women liked him, and he was making BANK. still, there were challenges. some women refused to bathe before coming and he would have to send them to the restroom to freshen up which absolutely ruined his chances for a good tip. some women would become heavily infatuated with him, believing that they were in some sort of forbidden romance. he learned to turn them down quick and easy to avoid conflict in the workplace which furthered his space as a boss favorite. but his hardest challenge by far was meeting you.

you were one of hanamaki’s friends, having met him at one of his brief stints in retail on his search for a job. he had gotten fired but you both stayed in touch after he left, becoming really close, really fast.

issei had met you first when takahiro had invited you to the biweekly seijoh third-years movie night. at first, he had been pissed as an “outsider” had never been invited before and he was worried you’d ruin the vibe, especially since it was the first time in months that oikawa would be able to join them. makki vouched for you through and through and the other boys were okay with it so you were in. the second he met you, all his fears of awkwardness and discomfort faded away.

you were great.

you were hilarious, pretty, and could keep up with makki’s harsh jokes, tooru’s diva attitude, iwa’s tendency to hit (hard), and issei’s original disdain. by the end of the night, he had completely forgotten why he didn’t want you there in the first place.

from then on, you were a staple in their little friend group. you were added to the groupchat where you balanced memes with spouts of deep wisdom and you were ever so reliable, always there if any of them needed it.

yeah, you were great. that’s where the problems started.

issei’s feelings for you quickly went from platonic to romantic, faster than you can say godzilla. he hadn’t even recognized that he was falling for you until it was way too late. normally, he wouldn’t have a problem confessing to you but because of his newly found ...occupation, he was too nervous. how would you take it that he was basically a glorified prostitute? ok, that wasn’t exactly what he did but still! you’d probably find him disgusting and horrible and leave the friend group forever. then he’d have to deal with oikawa’s senseless whining and makki’s subtle digs, blaming him for your departure. yeah, he wasn’t going to put himself through that so he decided to keep his mouth shut.

too bad he didn’t have any control over makki’s.

you and takahiro had been on a little friend-date at mcdonald’s after you’d had a long and frustrating shift. you just wanted to vent, expressing your general hate for your job and desperate need for stress relief.

that’s when makki opened his (big, stupid) mouth and suggested that you visit a little place called coffee and cunnilingus. you nearly choked on your fries at the title before quickly pressing him for details. thankfully, he had the decency not to expose that issei worked there but he had not done a good enough job convincing you not to go there. not that it would’ve mattered. your curiosity was peaked and your libido was high so why not try out the weird cafe where you let a complete stranger stick his tongue inside you?

it was settled. you were going to go and you were going to get eaten out and you were going to like it!

or at least that is what you repeated in your head as you walked to the address on your phone before taking a deep breath and walking inside.

“hello, welcome to coffee and cunnilingus, how might i pleasure you this afterno— yn?” issei’s eyes widened as they met your equally bewildered ones, the both of you staring at each other in shock.

“matsukawa-san, is everything alright?” a large hand rested on issei’s shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts and forcing him to break (horrified) eye contact with you and move it onto his boss who was now looking down on him menacingly.

“y-yes sir, everything is fine!” he squeaked out, hating the way his voice cracked on his first syllable. his boss looked at him suspiciously but thankfully didn’t press.

“well, since nothing is wrong, take this beautiful young woman to a booth where you will assist her!” the hand resting on issei’s shoulder slowly squeezed, making him wince in pain. the pain was only an afterthought though to the larger implication of his boss’ words. he’s going to assist you. assist as in pleasure. pleasure as in eat you out.

holy shit, you were going to pass out.

apparently, issei had the same thought process as you, his face whitening like a sheet. “m-me? but sir i-“

“do your job matsukawa-san!” his boss cut him off with a forced smile. all issei could do was nod and silently lead you off to a closed booth near the back or lose his job. you stayed close behind him but remained quiet, absolutely terrified of breaking the silence and ruining the bubble you had created.

you finally reached the booth in question. issei gently opened the curtain and motioned for you to get it, to which you obliged and he followed just behind.

the moment the curtain closed, you were enveloped in an awkward silence and tense atmosphere, neither of you speaking or looking at one another for fear of one of you running out. after what felt like hours, you opened your mouth to speak, not realizing issei had thought the same thing.

“so-“

“i-“

you finally made eye contact with him and burst into the laughter, the tension quickly broken. it took a full minute or two for the both of you to calm down, the absurdity of the entire situation finally catching up with you.

“you first,” issei said, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes while fixing you with an intense gaze swirled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but it made butterflies bubble up in your stomach. you quickly turned your gaze to the comfortable seat beneath you, your fingers playing with the red stitching while you thought of what you had wanted to say.

“are you any good?” your hand flew up to cover your mouth as your cheeks filled with heat, the embarrassment of your words catching up to you. you hadn’t meant to say that but when you opened your mouth to apologize, you were stopped in your tracks by the lovely sound of issei’s full-bodied laughter filling the tiny booth.

you had heard it just moments earlier but without the sound of your own giggles drowning it out, you couldn’t help but think that he sounded beautiful. you basked in the sound as it slowly trailed off back into silence. now it was you doing the staring making issei look off with a red face and a heart threatening to pound out of his chest.

“y-yeah i’m pretty good. you want to try? me, i mean?” his words nearly leave you gasping, your brain working overtime to try and comprehend what he was saying to you.

“only if y-you want to? what do you want issei?” you whispered, suddenly unable to find your voice. you wanted this to be okay for him too; you didn’t want him to be uncomfortable even though you wanted him more than you could verbally express. despite the embarrassment and fear of rejection lingering under your skin, you stared at him, awaiting his answer. a tiny minuscule nod came from him and you internally shook your head. you needed to hear him.

“i need you to say it, issei.” your words, while quiet, were firm and issei felt himself hardening in his uniform slacks. he swallowed in his increasingly drying mouth before opening his mouth to respond.

“i want to eat your pussy. can i?”

shit.

your own voice was stolen by his words and all you could give him was a nod before he was on you.

issei didn’t waste any time falling to his knees, pulling your panties down, and hiking your skirt up to your stomach, revealing your glistening folds to his hungering eyes.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” is all the warning you get before he’s licking a long stripe up you from entrance to clit before he’s sucking the hard, sensitive nub into his mouth. your eyes immediately rolled back into your head, your hips instinctively bucking up into his mouth while a gasped moan of issei left your lips.

if he could bottle your moans and use them whenever he pleased, he would, the sound sending another pulse of arousal to his already hard cock. he was tempted to reach down and pull himself out of his trousers but he denied himself. this was about you; you and your wet ass pussy.

issei continued his ministrations on your clit, circling it with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth while his hand was ready to get busy. it crept up your thigh, sending shivers down your spine until it reached your sopping entrance, two of his fingers teasing the slit before delving in to the third knuckle.

the moan you let out is borderline animalistic as your body sends another wave of slick pulsing out over his hand. he groaned into your cunt at your tightness, his mind only imagining him deep within you while you squeeze him for all he’s got.

the amount of slick you produced made it easy for him to add a third finger, thrusting them in and out while also crooking them upwards in search for your special spot that would have you seeing stars. it took him a little prodding but he knew he found it when your back arched, your hand came down into his hair, and you whimpered out a string of curses.

“that’s it baby, cmon, you’re doing so well, wanna see you come apart for me,” he all but growled against your clit before delving back in with a higher intensity, his desperation for you to come winning out his desire to tease you and drag this out as long as possible.

with his incessant pressure on your g-spot and his lips suctioned around your clit, it wasn’t long before he got what he wanted.

“isseiisseiisseiissei, i’m coming, i’m coming-oh fuck!” you screamed as you clenched and gushed all over his fingers, your entire body caving in with the intensity of your orgasm. his fingers were practically forced from your spasming cunt but they quickly found a place rubbing your nub side to side as fast as possible. the overwhelming urge to pee came over you and you shook your head, trying to push his hand away.

“no, no, give it to me, i know you can,” issei groaned, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. the pleasure he was giving came to a head at his words and you felt a clear liquid escape from your tired, overstimulated cunt, your mouth opening in a silent moan before collapsing back on the seat.

the sight proved to be too much for issei as he felt his body tense, his own orgasm washing over him as he emptied himself into his boxers. he fell back onto the ground, in shock of himself coming entirely untouched. he’d never done it before but of course it was you that would bring it out of him. a smile spread across his face at the thought, his head tilting back as he laughed, catching the attention of your worn body.

“what’re y’laughing at?” you slurred, cringing a little at how fucked out you sounded but issei didn’t seem to mind, his face glowing while covered in your slick and cum.

“nothing, nothing, but uh, i have a question.” you felt your heart leap to your chest, your mind already racing with the possibilities. he’s going to say this was a mistake, that we’re just better off as friends. oh god, what if he says i stunk? or the worst pussy he’s ever had? or what if—

“want to go and get a coffee?” he asked, the smile still plastered on his face but with an uncharacteristic hint of shyness. the butterflies were back in your stomach as you shyly nodded before allowing him to help clean you up and standing, not missing how he slipped your lacy underwear deep into one of his pockets.

issei’s hand found its way into yours as he said goodbye to his coworkers and boss before leading you out of the cafe, watching you tell an animated retelling of the bullshit that occurred at your job with a warm grin on his face and pink cheeks.

it might not be like matsukawa issei to be embarrassed but if it resulted in getting you by his side? he would do it again and again.

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mutigold · 4 years ago

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⌗ ARGUMENTS — kim hongjoong

where you find yourself fighting with your boyfriend in front of his friends.

pairing. hongjoong x poc!reader

c.w. smut!, bickering back and forth, sub!hongjoong, tongue kissing, fingering, crying, edging, pillow humping, riding, calling hongjoong’s hole a pussy, choking.

w.c. 1.2k

“i don’t get why we have to do this in front of them!”

you huffed sharply while pacing back and forth; eyeing the crowd that watched the altercation between you and your boyfriend. one moment you two were a happy, loving couple, then the next it became being irritated with each other.

but when the third strike made an appearance, you were over it. it came down to him, your light, submissive boyfriend, yelling at you for defending the team. leaving to you both bickering at each other in front of the members.

“oh, now you have a problem? you weren’t saying all of that when you were babying them.” hongjoong yelled. you cocked your head in confusion angrily feeling a migraine come along. you just didn’t understand how your boyfriend could turn his emotions on like this.

something was bothering him, and you needed to get to the bottom of this.

“you know what-”, you cut off turning to the boys, “you guys deserve a day off from all your hard work. go enjoy the rest of your day out together or something. i got hongjoong and i’ll make sure everything is back to normal.”

“thanks y/n, come on guys.” seonghwa mumbles, still feeling hurt by his best friend’s words, leading out with the rest of the team.

watching them go one by one, you forget your bratty boyfriend’s presence. “y/n! are you kidding? they need to practice more, not having the privilege of being lazy. babying them won’t do any better.”

“you need to calm down! i don’t know why you’re acting like this all of sudden but this needs to stop.” you push. hongjoon’s eyes just roll at your statement, creating a dark force that washes over you.

you knew what that certain feeling was. an urge to tame, otherwise known as fixing your submissive back into shape.

“you know what, i’m done with this conversation. either you go upstairs obediently or you go up there by force.”

the sound of soft chuckles escape through the lips of hongjoong. and having your dominance taken as a joke didn’t stick with you lightly. you moved closer towards the leader and grasped his throat. you squeeze his windpipes in warning handling the oxygen slowly.

“oh? now you wanna laugh at me?”

“n-no, i’m sorry m-mistress.” hongjoong suddenly whimpers, understanding he took it too far and quickly submits.

you bring your boyfriend’s face to your lips, kissing him deeply with desire. “bring your ass upstairs. you’re gonna take everything i give you then apologize to the crew, do you understand?”

“y-yes mistress!”

smiling, you tapped his cheek before letting him go leading him to his dorm room.

“oh, mistress! please!”

a few minutes later, you had hongjoong begging and pleading for you to touch him as he humped one of the pillows on the bed. seeing his firm behind in the air, thrusting in and out just to get some type of friction, made you feel a tingly sensation.

“m-mistress! i’m sorry, s-so sorry. please help me c-cum,” hongjoong sniffles pleading for your touch.

“hm? oh, now you wanna be nice? what happened to that nasty little attitude you had a moment ago?”

his soft pleads switch into loud whines hearing your mocks; he grinds harder with an objection in mind. “you were not trained to be a brat nor disobedient. i am very surprised by your actions today, baby.”

“forgive me! forgive me, mistress!”

you reach over to give your boyfriend and command, “here, suck and show me you can be a good boy. and hurry it up, unless you want that pussy to be sore for the boys to see.”

immediately, your index and middle finger are being sucked on like a nipple by a needy hongjoong. his muffled moaning contracted with every motion he caused, pre-cum leaving small spots onto the pillow.

“now, that’s a good boy. i’m gonna stick my fingers into your pussy while you keep humping that pillow, do you understand?”

“yes! y-yes! i get it, mistress! just help me cum, please!”

your fingers thrust into hongjoong’s “pussy” trying to hit that certain spot as he pleasures himself to the soft padding. the faster he goes, the deeper the digits surround the tight muscles. “go on baby, tell mistress more. tell me how much of a good boy you could be.”

“i-i can be a good boy! so g-good! i’ll do anything if you let me cum!” he begs.

you grin at the leader’s obligations hitting his prostate selfishly. “oh? anything you say? first, you’re gonna tell me why you’re acting so grumpy all of a sudden and then i might ride your pathetic cock after you promise to apologize to the boys.”

“i-i promise! it’s just- oh my god!- we’ve been under a lot of pressure since kingdom and- i-i’m gonna cum!”

you pull away before he gets the chance and demand that he finishes his sentence. “-and i just want everyone to be happy! the label, the team, the fans, you…”

“ah, baby. everything is gonna be fine, you just gotta be the best you can be; not what everyone wants you to be. we’re all proud of you guys, the label, the fans, and me. but you cannot push yourself to be angry, especially with the team. they look up to you and you really hurt their feelings.”

forgetting all about the sexual tension and focusing on the conversation, hongjoong felt tears build up and fall. “i-i didn’t mean it. i swear. i don’t know why i acted like that y/n. i’m r-really sorry.”

“oh hun, it’ll be okay. just apologize and everything will go smooth. now that we’ve cleared that up; why don't your mistress show you how proud she is of you. would you like that?”

hongjoong sniffles and replying, “yes, please.”

you give him a soft smile and turn him around, throwing the soaked pillow to the side. going on top of him, you gaze down at him observing his pretty face. “aw, look at my pretty baby,” the leader blushes following your movements as push down on him.

a unison of moans take place between you two, feeling the pleasurable sensations. “oh, mistress. you feel so good!”

“i know baby.”

bouncing up and down, you bring your face towards hongjoong’s and kiss him; tongue and saliva intertwine. “ugh. w-wait! i’m gonna c-cum, mistress.”

“go ahead baby, cum for me.”

warm fluids fill you up making you go over the edge. “fuck, honey. you’re so good for me..”

minutes past with you and your boyfriend laid out on the bed feeling the cool air. it has been a while since you two got some alone time; hence the practices. “i’m glad you’re okay baby. thank you for sharing with me.”

“no. thank you for setting me straight. i’ll make sure to say sorry to the team before dinner.” hongjoong promises grabbing your hand to hold. you make sure to giggle and peck him onto his flushed cheek.

“you know, this is the first time we ever had a real argument like this.”

“huh, really? if arguments lead to this kind of sex; we should do it more often.” hongjoong laughed.

#kpop #dom!reader #sub!idol #aesthetic #kpop smut #ateez #sub!ateez #sub!hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x you #ateez smut #ateez x atiny #ateez x y/n #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #fics from gold

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alixdelcourt · 3 years ago

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Maybe other ones opinions matter more to you than ours

Pairing Katsuki Bakugou x female reader x Eijirou Kirishima

Genre : angst to fluff and comfort at the end.

WC and warnings : 1.5 k / Polyrelationship, Angst, feeling down, abandon, injury, mention of hospital and sedative. Please be careful reading this, and skip it if you're insecure or sensitive, you'll just get hurt. Please be careful.

Note : Hey everyone, I am back ! I am sorry, I wasn't on hiatus so I didn't warned you, I was just sick and trying to recover. And now that I am totally healed, I promise that I'll catch all your requests up quickly ! Today's work is @d3nk1x's request. I am sorry it took my like forever to achieve it, really sorry. I hope that you’ll like it, please let me know, and feel free to ask anything else. I kinda like your requests :)

Requests are still open, and since my college year is over, I am totally free to write whenever I want. And I am bored a bit, so please send many requests if you want, I will be happy to oblige !

The heart has its reasons which Reason knows nothing of… What was sure is that you loved them, from the bottom of your heart. But it wasn’t enough for you to be completely at ease with the relationship that you, Eijirou and Katsuki are entertaining. Well, such relations aren’t usual and you prefer to keep it for you. What would it be if people, even your friends, discover this part of your intimacy and feel free to criticize, or worse to judge you and to deprecate it… Would your ‘couple’ survive all of this ? You prefer not to take the risk. A happy life is a discreet one.

But, your significant others are not on the same page. Like, for the boys, you’re all adults and old enough to make your own choices. You chose them, you brought them together, so why couldn’t you assume this decision ? Why three people in love would be so odd ? This subject was the only point of contention for you, that comes up more and more often. Like tonight.

The three of you were in Katsuki’s room, for the usual nightly cuddles. To have some affection before going to sleep, each one in his own dorm room. For the other students not to notice, Eijirou is the first to leave, and after a couple of minutes, you follow him. But tonight, the guys made a big deal out of it. You argue, explaining again for like the thousandth time your position.

“I just… I just don’t feel comfortable with people knowing that I am in love with two guys. Maybe it’s okay for you to share the same girlfriend, but this isn’t was girls do.”

“And who cares about other girls ? They just don't know what they are missing !”

Eijirou winked at you, trying to make you laugh and give it all up as a joke, but you weren’t laughing. He sighed, and let your mutual boyfriend try. And he did. Like Katsuki really tried. He took your hand, and made you look at his crimson stare.

“Please, Y/n. Let us love you in full view of everyone. I am tired, we’re both tired of paying attention to our reactions around you. We just want to give you all the attention you deserve and the love you generate at any time, not bottling it up or botch it between two training sessions. I don’t want to hide anymore, because this means we’re doing something wrong. And we’re not. So please.”

He’s meaning what he’s saying, and you know it. Katsuki Bakugou ain’t one to beg, for anything. But even if this was the sweetest and the most romantic thing he has ever told you, you can’t overcome your fear. Which deeply hurt the boys in front of you. The ash blond haired released your hand.

“Maybe other ones opinions matter more to you than ours”

Usually, when he’s this rude, Eijirou stands up for you, but today he’s way too hurt and he agrees with Katsuki. Too many words jostle on your tongue, but none were sufficient for you to express how you’re feeling. With obvious teary eyes, you stand up and leave quickly before bursting in cries. You try to convince yourself that you’re feeling this way because they’ve been harsh on you, pressuring you like this, but you can’t fool yourself. Nothing hurts like the truth.

But you made it. You managed to sleep, and in the morning, you decide that you’re moving forward and as usual, leave the situation as it is. But you quickly notice that it’s not the case for Eijirou and Katsuki. When you went for breakfast, they were already done and heading to their own classes. Usually, you have your have your meals together and they accompany you before going about their business. Usually, Katsuki cooks in the morning, and you make the boys tea. Usually, Eijirou takes all of the bags on his shoulders because it’s manlier and ‘every little training helps’. But today was nothing like usual. You tried to avoid your paranoia during the whole morning, but you couldn’t anymore at lunch. They literally rejected you. In front of everyone. Maybe you finally ruined everything by yourself.

When you arrived to the cafeteria, you decided to wait for them before realizing that they weren’t late, but they didn’t wait for you. They were already eating with some classmates. Sero noticed you, lining up alone for your lunch and staring, with a troubled expression on your face.

“Why isn’t Y/n with you today ? The three of you are always together… Something happened ?”

“She decided that our company is no satisfying enough for her. We would not want to force her.”

You weren’t that far from them, and Eijirou’s hard words were sharp and loud enough to reach your ears. He said it that loud on purpose.

“I thought that you and her had a thing… Aren’t the two dating or something like this ?”

Katsuki growled at Denki’s curiosity.

“None of your business, you dumbass”

“I was asking Eijirou ! Of course, no one would date your rude ass”

“He’s right, Denki. Our love life is none of your business”.

No one could possibly ask anything after this, even if they took each other’s hand. They ain’t persons to take criticism. They just proved you that you can’t cut off people’s curiosity. You’re just not strong enough. So you ate alone, and reached the afternoon training late, sorrowed and unmotivated.

Since your two regular partners for training were sulking you, you paired up with Midoriya, who needed help for his frontal attacks. You were strong enough to repulse him sometimes, by putting all your frustration into your fight, and you were agile enough to avoid him when he was too strong. It wasn’t like your usual trainings, but it was instructive in that you were learning new things. And suddenly, just when your sadness has eased a little thanks to work, everything went so fast that you couldn’t understand. First, your eyes caught a familiar vision. Second, your turned your head to see that Katsuki was proudly and fiercely kissing a blushing Eijirou, that wasn’t ashamed to kiss him back. Third, your eyes went wide open, and your mouth in awe.

“… - SMASH !”

Fourth, everything faded away.

Before you open your eyes, you can tell that you’re in a hospital. The smell of disinfectant and the beeping of machines weren’t misleading. And when you opened your eyes, The memories came along with the severe pain. You remember… Izuku, Eijirou, Katsuki… Recovery girl… The hero trainer… The ambulance… The injury, the pain and the cries… The sedative… And then nothing. You got injured during the training, you weren’t paying attention and you received Izuku’s attack you were supposed to block or avoid with full force. If you were a villain, he would have neutralized you, which was the purpose of the training. He isn’t the one to blame, nor are the two who caught your attention. From the very beginning, you were the only culprit. And just when you were thinking of them, you heard Katsuki’s voice grunt behind the curtain that was surrounding your convalescence bed.

“We have to see her ! Oi listen you-”

“We’re in a hospital, quieter !”

“Please, doctor, let us see her. We are so worry, and we need to be by her side when she’ll wake up”

Eijirou’s pleading voice was trying to convince the relentless doctor.

“You’re not her family, I can’t allow you to do so. I am sorry, rules are rules.”

Someone, maybe Sero, intervened.

“C’mon, boys, there’s nothing to do but wait…”

However, they didn’t give up. Kirishima begging and Bakugou threatening almost made you cry. You struggled a bit, but managed to talk with a husky voice.

“Please let them in. They are my boyfriends. Please…”

The curtain was withdrawn in a hurry, and in a split second, the blond and the redhead were by your side.

“Y/N ! How are you feeling ! Is everything okay or are you-

“Don’t ever scare me like this again ! I might lose my mind if you ever-

They won’t let you get a word in edgeways, checking on you and their concerned eyes scanning you. You started crying.

“I am so sorry… I am so sorry that I was stupid enough to hurt you instead of overcoming my fear ! I don’t deserve you, I-”

Eijirou hushed to you, while carefully wrapping his arms around you.

“Shhhh… It’s okay now, sweetheart. We won’t talk about this now, and not anymore. Nothing is more important than seeing you happy and smiling…”

“Besides, all those who were waiting heard you… I am sorry…”

“What a plot twist ! Seriously, don’t be… I am not afraid anymore. Today was horrible, and I got more hurt by the truth then Izuku’s hit. I am not letting anything between us again. I love you, and nothing will stop me from doing so”

Katsuki took your hand in his, squeezing it against his heart and peppering it with kisses. Words aren’t for him, so he lets you know his gratitude in other ways. With a kiss on your forehead, Eijirou concludes.

“If it took you approaching death to realize it, you're more of a dumbass that he calls you so”

__________________________________________

Here is ! Please let me know if you liked it or not, and if you did like it, feel free to share so other people could enjoy it as well :)

@d3nk1x @i-heart-fictional-boys @skywalkerstyles (from which I drew inspiration for the polyrelationship, I totally love your work) @katsukichu @kirislilrock

Maybe I’ll try a real taglist… I just need to figure out how does it work…

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swtki · 4 years ago

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Anonymous said:

Heyy! Can you do a Cedricxfem!reader smut? Where the reader get stood up at the Yule ball and Cedric heart breaks since he has been in love with the reader for quite some time. And then they do the nasty you know thank you

A/N: Okay so basically...I am a stupid fucking Cedric simp,,,,and since I got home today, and my course work is fairly light for this week (no promises) my requests are open and I will try to get as much out as I can this week before my birthday! Jan 24th and you will get an about me post. ALSO, thanks for 700 (now 710 no brag) followers! I love you guys! Ok onto the fic!.

moodboard

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, SAPPY CEDRIC, BAD WORDS OH GOD OH FUCK

(Y/N) stood in front of her full length mirror in her dormitory room, admiring the fabric hugging her hips. Very rarely did she ever get to see herself like this, never mind other people. Her hand reached up to move a stray strand of hair back into place, a minor detail that although she doubt mattered, she could not refrain from. It was the night of the Yule ball, a night that the girls in her year wanted perfection more than ever, (Y/n) not excluded.

It would not be unheard of, however it would be rather embarrassing to show up un-courted. Nobody to dance with, nobody to share a moment in the moonlight with. That’s why when Miles Dane asked her to the ball, she did not hesitate to say yes.

To be quite honest, the two seventh years had never really talked. Though, they did have potions together. Surely, she would get to know him while sharing a dance, and she had to admit that he was quite charming and handsome. A tall Ravenclaw boy, lankly in the most perfect way, his skin a medium tone that glowed in the sunlight, so the carriages weren’t out of the question either.

The clock on the wall read six fifty, there was no sign of Miles, only (Y/N) and her twiddling thumbs. She wanted to scream, to cry, to hurt him even, but above all, she wanted to believe he was coming. Everything was going to be perfect. It should all be perfect.

Inside the hall, Cedric Diggory, the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, was pretending to be interested. The mundane conversation between Cho, his date who he now was sure didn’t even remember who she came with, and another seventh year girl droned on. Despite the banging of the loud music into his ear, Cedrics head was silent. Bored. Without saying anything, he slipped away from the table, creeping into the corridor for a breath of fresh air.

The cold December air hit Cedrics face with a refreshing feeling, the pressures of being a Tri-Wizard champion melted off of his shoulders. Though, he didn’t like to admit it, he sometimes questioned if this path was right for him. Would it have been better if he had stayed put, never scratched his name upon the parchment? He knew that he couldn’t change the past, no matter how much he wanted to. Cedrics tall, lean body slumped against the stone wall. All was quiet around him, a welcomed environment. Then, he heard the faintest gasp, causing the hairs on his neck to stand up.

“Fuck,” (Y/N) sighed out, wiping the small bead of sorrow that had escaped from her eye. She knew Miles was not coming. A dark figure leaning over her crouched body interrupted her racing mind. Instinctually, she looked up from her knees.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” Cedric said in a soft voice.

“Nothing..nothing is wrong Diggory.” She avoided eye contact. Cedric and (Y/N) had been friends in years prior, particularly in third year. But as time drew on, their paths separated, effectively making them strangers to one another. He had gone on to be a hearthrob who was wanted by every girl, while she had focused on her studies and the go-to for casual sex.

“You know, we may not have sat together for three years, but don’t you think I can tell when you’re lying?” He squatted on the cement next to her, becoming eye level. “Now, what are you doing out here? You look so gorgeous, I’m sure your bloke in there is missing you.” His hand gestured behind him to the large archway leaking a bright tune.

“Yeah, thats the thing,” she drew a sharp breath in, tilting her head up, “My bloke never fucking showed up. Look at me, all dressed up and no one to dance with.” Her eyes closed, painting a small smile in an attempt to conceal her pain.

“Oh...I see.” Cedric stood up and offered his hand to the girl below him. “Well, let me fix that for you.” She rolled her eyes, but happily accepted.

Opting to stay where they were, the two swayed in each others arms. The warmth of Cedrics arms comforted the girl, soothing her in a way Cedric had not soothed her in years.

“Didn’t you come with a date?” she asked, her head on his chest.

“Yeah, shes inside. She lost interest with me I’m afraid.” Cedric made a small chuckle that made her bite her lip. “You know...I’ve heard about your reputation. I’m a little surprised, I thought you would always hate boys. Cooties was it?” He teased, resting his chin on her head.

“Oh fuck off. For the record, I did like boys. I liked you, Cedric. I still do.” He pulled away from her figure slightly, his eyes searching over her face. Then without any hesitation, he collided his lips to hers.

Shocked at first, she froze. But within a second, her hands were cradling his face. The kiss was deep, full of years worth of emotion. His grip tightened on her waist. Time stood still for the pair, it felt like hours before Cedric pulled away.

“Do you want to go to my dorm?” He said, panting.

“Won’t people notice if you run off?? You’re like a celebrity around here, Ced.” She grinned up at him. Cedrics face took a more serious appearance, but his manor became relaxed.

“Fuck ‘em.” His large hand grasped hers, leading the way to his dormitory.

(Y/N) sat on the soft mattress, her body stiff and unsure. Cedric fumbled around, locking the door, playing suave. He stood a mere three feet from her, wondering how he got so lucky.

“Did you want to just chat because...Cedric, I can do far more than chat with you.” She gave him a seductive look, making the boy swallow hard.

“Well I... I mean trust me, the way you look sitting on my bed is amazing, and I’m all for it. But the question is, are you - I mean do you want to? With me?” A rose blush creeped upon the Hufflepuff boys face, making (Y/N) giggle.

“Come here, Ced.” She beckoned him over to her with her finger. He happily obliged, walking over to sit next to her. But before he could sit, she put a hand on his chest, stopping him in his place. “Stand...I want you to stand while I sit. Is it okay if I..?” she gestured to the growing errection inside his trousers.

“Fuck...please darling.” She bit her lip and started undoing his pants, enjoying the sight before her eyes. She stroked his cock, admiring the way his eyes scrunched up when she ran her thumb over the tip. Smiling, she leaned over and put it in her mouth. His soft moans filled the room as he ran his slender fingers through her soft hair. All of the sudden, he yanked her off, pushing her on her back.

“My turn, love.” Cedrics mouth started leaving sloppy kisses around her mouth, trailing down to her neck while his left hand massaged her tit over her dress. Her elbows pressed into the bed, pushing her up.

“Wait, lets get these off, yeah?” Cedric kissed her, then unzipped her dress, fumbling to strip himself as quickly as he could. Once she was left in just her knickers, he continued where he had left off. He traveled until he got to her covered pussy, looking up at her to see if he could continue. She nodded, her eyes filled with need.

Cedrics left hand pushed apart her legs, letting him get a proper look at how she felt about him. His other hand yanked off her knickers, little did Y/N know how mental simple white cotton undies made Cedric. Without hesitation, his mouth started attacking her sensitive clit. The pleasure was unlike anything she had ever felt with her previous fucks, because this pleasure was dedicated with love. Her eyes rolled back into her head, a wanton moan escaping from her throat. This encouraged him to suck on her clit, and then to Y/Ns delight, inserted two fingers. Filthy moans filled the room as her cunt felt so pleasured in a way she had never felt.

“Fuck thats so fucking...oh my god Ced.” He moved his fingers at a faster speed, attacking her clit simultaneously. Eyes rolling back into her head, a pure groan of pleasure filled Cedrics ears as she bucked her hips, reaching a climax unlike any other.

Cedric stood, climbed on the bed, then looked at her.

“Do you want to..keep going or?” He ran his thumb over her lips.

“yes but..I wanna be on top” His heart beat faster, his erection becoming somehow even harder. He laid down on his bed, allowing her to swing a leg over his hips. Y/N grabbed his member and ran it through her folds, watching as his face contorted in pleasure. Then she sunk her body onto his, both of them in seventh heaven.

Her hips started rocking against his, making his cock hit all the right parts inside her. Cedric was in love with the sight before him, his eyes looking at her like she was a goddess. Her hand reached down, rubbing her clit, maximizing her pleasure. It wasn't long until her next orgasm washed over her, making Cedric even more eager to put himself to use. When she was back off her high, he brought her down to him, chest to chest. Thrusting up into her was the best feeling he could have imagined, it went on for minutes, both of them feeling amazing.

Y/N leaned over into his ear to whisper,

“Please cum inside me, Ced. Please, I want you to use me and leave my body stained with your cum.” Cedric, finding out that now he had a thing for cumming inside her, sped up. His hips clashed with her arse as his climax grew closer and closer.

Cedrics eyes rolled into his head, his body releasing his cum into hers. His legs shook a bit, he had just had the best orgasm he had ever had. The girl on top of him rolled over, now laying beside him. Both of them sat in silence, trying to catch their breath.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/N”

#cedric x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader smut #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory smut #robert pattinson smut #Harry Potter Smut #harry potter x reader smut #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco mallfoy imagines #draco mallfoy x reader

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garbagevanfleet · 4 years ago

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings: None yet. Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Here we are everyone. This fic has been a long time in the making, but I’m pretty dang happy with it so far! I made Josh extra lovable and squishy for you all. I hope you enjoy! This fic is edited by the amazing and gorgeous, @lantern-inthenight. And big thanks as always to @myownparadise96. I literally could not have found the motivation to do this fic without you.

MASTERPOST

taglist: @myownparadise96 @n1-party-anthem @valleyd0ll @bigblack-catattack @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @oblvions @hansonobsessed @satingrass-maidensfair

The scenery in Michigan was vastly different than back home. You were used to and comfortable with the nearly unforgiving heat of the American South West, but the farther away you got from home, the more foreign everything seemed. The scrubland slowly started being replaced by emerald green grass and dense forests of towering pines. Once you hit Illinois, little farmsteads were scattered along every road you took, boasting fields thick with corn and beans.

It was a bit over a full day’s worth of driving. You had originally thought you could just drive right through - after all, you were young and you had plenty of caffeine at the ready. In reality, you wound up digesting the trip over two days.

You were a fortunate enough person that you had a reliable car, which made up for the fact that it wasn’t very pretty to look at. It didn’t exactly sip gas, but that had never even been a concern before this - it wasn’t very often that you left home, let alone make a trip across the country. But you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you started seeing the exit signs for Ann Arbor.

Your parents had been a bit judgemental about you picking a school so far away - they were even worse homebodies than you, and they knew that you being across the country meant they wouldn’t be seeing you until the school year was over - but there was no way you could turn down an opportunity like this one. You had worked your ass off to qualify for a scholarship, knowing full well that there was no way you could afford higher education otherwise. MU hadn’t been your very first choice but with one of the better programs in the country for your desired field, you just couldn’t turn it down.

You had to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot to pull up the address you were looking for and program it into your phone’s GPS before continuing further into the city. Your mother had been particularly wary about your living situation. See, she was a woman that adamantly liked to have a plan and then stick to it - she didn’t see any value in just letting things happen. “Go with the flow” wasn’t in her vocabulary, but you’d always romanticised the idea. Which was why, when you pulled up to the apartment that you were going to be living in for the next year, it was the first time you’d ever seen it.

You had found the listing on the Facebook marketplace for the area, looked at a couple of pictures, and signed the lease agreement online - all without knowing what you were really in for. You’d been informed that you’d have a roommate when you’d contacted the landlord, but she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the person other than that. All she really said was “no pets, no smoking, and one month’s rent for the security deposit. You had told yourself that it didn’t really matter what the situation was as long as the other person wasn’t outwardly malicious and the place wasn’t infested with pests or anything, even though you knew it mattered a little.

An audible sigh of relief left your lips when you pulled into the apartment parking lot and found that your new home looked well kept. The building had old, slide-up windows, but the brick siding was clean, and the shrubs that lined the property were trimmed and neat. You and your back seat stuffed to max capacity with house plants had made it - and with only a bit of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters for damages.

After you got out of the car, you grabbed your very favorite potted cactus and found your way into the building, meandering down the dim hall until you came upon the door marked 6. You hadn’t been given a key yet, so you knocked with your free hand and waited until you heard someone shuffling around inside.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous - obviously, you were - but more than anything you were excited. Anxious, maybe? That seemed like the right word.

The door opened to reveal a boy, around your age, hair a mess of curls on the top and shorn tighter to the sides of his head. You were immediately taken aback by the depth in his eyes, chocolatey and warm.

“What’s up?” he asked casually, leaning against the door frame, a pair of old-school headphones dangling from his hand.

You frowned at him slightly, suddenly terrified you’d gotten the wrong apartment number. You weren’t sure how you’d live with that embarrassment, especially if you had to live next door to him - you’d just be that stupid girl that didn’t even know where she lived. “Oh, I think I’m your new roommate? This is number six, right?” You peered around the other side of the open door, just to confirm.

A beaming grin spread over his soft face, showing you his blindingly white teeth and the deepest pair of dimples you’d ever seen. “Oh, cool, yeah. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving a dramatically flourished bow as a gesture for you to enter. You obliged, and even though this was your new house too, you paused and waited as he shut the door behind you.

“Sorry, I was expecting you yesterday, so.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile and then extended his free hand to you. “Anyway, I’m Josh.”

You shifted your cactus to one arm so you could shake his hand. “Y/N. Yeah, sorry, it took me longer than I expected to get here. Which is why my stuff apparently showed up before I did.”

You eyed around the apartment, spotting boxes of your things in piles. The original plan your parents had come up with was to have you rent a U-Haul, but since you’d never driven anything bigger than your Camry, you had quickly shot that idea down. After some expert negotiating, they had agreed to hire a moving company. You hadn’t had the balls to ask what a service like that had set them back - decided instead that it was better if you didn’t know.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It all showed up yesterday at like noon. One of the boxes was open a little, and I saw records so I looked through them to make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

It was more of a statement than a warning, and the smile he gave you showed not even a shred of an apology so you just smiled back. “Find anything you like?”

He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen - connected to the living room by a huge square archway. “Your music taste is,” He paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down two mismatched glasses. “Eclectic.”

You laughed at him, bending to gently set your plant down on a side table. “That’s true.”

“But I found plenty I could listen to, so I guess you’re okay. You want some juice?” he asked as he held up a paper carton of store brand orange juice

“That would be lovely,” you agreed, standing stick straight the way you did when in the presence of new company. “My dad used to take me to a lot of thrift stores and we’d go home with a minimum of two records per trip.”

“I love thrifting,” he said simply, giving you an alarmingly serious look. “There are three here, I think. Every once in a while you can find something really worth keeping. I have kind of a ‘catch and release’ policy where if I don’t instantly know what I’m going to do with an item, I leave it there, but I think - like - a third of my wardrobe is from thrift stores.”

You listened, feeling oddly entranced by the way he was handing you thoughts as they came to him. There was something truly honest about it - a quality people back home didn’t seem to have. It was charming.

He brought your glass of juice to you and then motioned to the rest of the apartment. “You want the grand tour of Casa De Joshua-” He gave you a pointed look and a cheesy grin. “And Y/N?”

You breathed a laugh at him, nodding as you sipped. “Please.”

“Okay, try not to get lost - this is obviously the living room. I do most of my living here as the name would suggest. I found this couch on the side of the road - actually almost all of my furniture is adopted.” As he explained, he was gesturing to items like Vanna White.

The couch looked. Well-loved. You could tell just at a glance that it was probably past it’s prime when Josh had stumbled upon it, but it did look comfortable, and it wasn’t like you had a couch to offer, so you were happy with it.

“I have this TV but it’s really only for movies and stuff because I’m twenty-two and I’d rather die than pay for cable. But there are literally hundreds of DVDs in the TV stand that you are welcome to peruse at your leisure,” he informed, his hands gesturing almost arbitrarily as he talked.

You followed as he moved on through the archway. “This is the kitchen. All of the food lives here. There’s lots of stuff, but I try to just make two bigger meals per day. I don’t have a real ice tray so I’ve been using a chocolate mold- Well anyway, our ice will be in the shape of wiener dogs.”

You were shocked at the laugh that escaped you, genuine and uncontrolled. He grinned over at you, clearly also surprised - but pleased with himself for getting the reaction he was aiming for.

“I think I can live with that.”

“Good,” he agreed simply, giving you a new kind of smile - something sweeter. After a beat, he motioned down the hall with his eyes, letting you lead. “The bathroom is this way. The water takes like three or four minutes to get hot. I realized that I have a lot of products for some reason, but I condensed them all into this one area in the corner just in case my new roommate was a girl, and you are so that’s great. I’ll probably get a shelf.”

There was a proud quality to his voice like he felt gentlemanly for letting you have all the space you needed. For some reason, that made you feel warm and fuzzy.

“And what if your new roommate had been a boy?” you inquired with a smirk.

He put a finger on his chin, taking on a contemplative look for you. “Hmm. Then I guess I slowly would have moved my stuff back to the cabinet - probably just one thing per day so he wouldn’t notice. Unless he had a lot of makeup or something, then I’d just let him have it.”

He grinned as you teasingly shook your head.

“This way is the sleeping quarters. My room is there on the right and yours to the left.”

You stepped into your new room and let a sigh of relief. Two huge windows took up a lot of the far wall, framed underneath by large sills. The space was bright and roomier than you’d pictured. Your bed was set up in the very middle of the room, but you already knew exactly where you wanted it to go. For some reason, you had been concerned that you wouldn’t like the space, but it was kind of perfect.

“This is great,” you breathed, turning to him and giving him a sly grin. “Wanna give me a hand moving my furniture around?”

He pretended to consider for a moment until you spoke again.

“My mom sent money for pizza while I get stuff unpacked,” you said coyly. “If you needed any convincing.”

He laughed, showing you his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain. Okay, I’ll help as long as I get to look through your stuff while we move it.”

You gave him a questioning look, earning a one-shouldered shrug in return. He looked benign enough standing there, propped against the door frame with a goofy upturn to his lips, so you relented.

“Deal,” you agreed.

You were positive you would not have been able to move stuff without his help. For being a slender boy, he seemed to easily be able to get things where they needed to be. He dutifully helped you shove your furniture into place - your bed against the window wall, your desk and vanity on the wall with your closet door. Then, bless his little heart, he helped you move it all again when you decided you didn’t like the arrangement (but not without some light griping).

One by one, you brought in your boxes from the living room and you allowed him to poke through them, perched on your bed. He flipped through your books, thumbing pages of ones that piqued his interest - you could only imagine that he was already planning on borrowing some of them. He reacted similarly to your framed photos, as he unwrapped them from their packing paper.

When you got your record player set up, he put on a vinyl and started to hang your art prints on the wall where you instructed him to. The look of concentration on his face was rather endearing as he held a few nails between his teeth and hammered them into the wall, one by one. There was a time or two you were convinced that he was going to mutilate his thumb, but he didn’t, and when the last picture was hung, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You called in a pizza, adorned with his requested toppings as you hung your clothes into your closet, your phone tucked against your ear and shoulder for maximum efficiency.

Plants collected on your bed until there was no more room for them - after that, he started setting them on the floor as he brought them in from your car. He didn’t seem to be judging the sheer amount of them, even though he had every right to.

“It’s going to look like a jungle in here,” he stated finally as he took a bite out of a slice of pizza that he was holding like a taco, his eyes raking over all of the foliage scattered around your room. Rather than sounding like he was teasing, his tone seemed excited.

You grinned at him, starting to arrange them on the window sill and your bookshelf that had only ever served you as a plant shelf since you’d bought it. “Plants are my passion. Botany major,” you explained as you fluffed up your Monstera’s huge leaves.

“Ooh.” He raised his eyebrows at you, pulling one of his legs up underneath him on your bed - now fitted with sheets. “I think that’s going to be nice. Give it some life in here.”

You grabbed another slice from the pizza box on your nightstand and tried to think of the right tone of voice to use to ask the next question. “How long have you lived here by yourself?”

He hummed, eyes flicking around distantly as he thought. “Well, I’ve lived here just over a year, and my first roommate dropped out and moved back home about...six months ago?”

“Have you been lonely? You seem like a social guy.” You gave him an empathetic look but he just shrugged at you. You hadn’t known him long enough to know for sure, but you suspected he was more affected than he was letting on.

“I mean, a little lonely. But I got used to it for the most part.” He paused for a good couple of seconds before a smile spread across his lips. “And Penny’s kept me company.”

“Oh, does your girlfriend stay here too?” you prompted, trying to remember if you’d seen any feminine looking items lying around that weren’t yours.

“What? No,” he said under a chuckle and stood, gesturing for you to follow him across the hall.

The second you walked through the doorway, you were met with the smell of incense sticks and linen. His room was dimmer than yours and kind of cramped with all of his mismatching furniture, but he had a huge bed - you thought it could easily fit three people in it. There were some clothes strewn about around a laundry hamper by the door and you tried to not be jealous that his closet seemed to be about twice the size of yours.

He crossed the room to crouch in front of a coffee table that he seemed to be using as a catch-all. The varnish was worn off the top of it in rings because sitting on the coffee table was a globe of water and a calico colored goldfish swimming around aimlessly inside of it.

“Ah, so this is Penny,” you giggled as you bent over next to him. When the fish spotted him, it rose to the surface of the water, opening its mouth in demand for food.

He grinned down at it. “Light of my life. We’re not allowed to have pets but I figured that a fish didn’t count.”

You hummed, admittedly a bit charmed by the whole situation. “But don’t goldfish require a lot of space?”

The smile fell from his face, adopting a level of concern you hadn’t yet seen from him as he peered over at you. “Do they?”

Immediately, you felt guilty for putting that look on his features. Your brain kick-started - trying to think of a way to make it right again. “I think so? Maybe we can find her a small tank? Put a few little plants in there for her?”

Josh nodded at you, stroking his fingers over the glass with a frown. “I’m a bad dad.”

“No, no!” you assured, putting your hand on his head but then removing it instantly when you realized that you didn’t really know him, he’d just already made you feel like you did. Either way, you figured it would be inappropriate to touch him. “You’re great. She looks really happy.”

“She’s great at begging for food, so don’t get tricked,” Josh instructed after a moment, seemingly able to put his concerns aside to jest you.

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll be ever vigilant,” you promised, making him smile again.

He stood back up, so you did as well.

“Well, I’ll give you some time to get comfortable in your room,” Josh said, sitting back on his bed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I promise I will,” you assured, tapping your hand on the doorframe on your way out.

By the time the sun was set, your room was shockingly well put together. The emotional rollercoaster that was the album Rumors helped you keep on task, losing yourself in the music so it didn’t feel like work at all. You hadn’t been expecting it to come along so quickly, but you guessed that was because you hadn’t anticipated such a friendly roommate. The nesting had always been your favorite part, so you took your time to enjoy placing out all your knick-knacks and photos.

You took a break to shower when you decided you were done for the day, reveling in the feeling of the water after such a long time in your car - He was absolutely right about how long it took to warm up from ice cold. When you got out and changed into your pajamas, Josh was sitting in the living room with a laptop across his legs.

“You wanna chill?” he asked when he heard you padding down the hall, shutting the lid of it and setting it on a side table. “Or if you’re too tired, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. I’d love to talk.” You sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between you as you pulled your knees up to your chin. “Tell me more about yourself,” you requested, tugging a blanket from a beat-up wicker basket on the floor and wrapping it around your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he started. You wondered how long it had been since he had to introduce himself to someone new. “I’m from a tiny little town here in Michigan. I’m the oldest of four - two brothers and a sister. My brother, Jake, also attends MU and lives just off campus.”

You frowned at him. “Wait, why wouldn’t he live with you?” you asked through a disbelieving laugh.

“He lived with me long enough,” Josh explained in a humored tone. “There are only so many people where I’m from and well - we wanted to meet new people, you know?”

“I guess I should be grateful for that.”

“Yeah, probably,” he teased and then paused to think. “I’m in performing arts - I’m actually putting on a production around Christmas with some elementary school kids.”

You suppressed the aww that was threatening to pass your lips. “You like kids?”

He beamed you a smile, shaking his head. “Love them. I want to have like ten of them someday.”

The thought of him surrounded by kids made you soften. You were genuinely shocked about how easy he was to talk to - how easy he was to like. You had never thought in a million years you’d get along with your roommate so well, let alone the first day meeting them.

“I hope you get to,” you said as genuinely as you could muster, prompting him to give you a grateful smile.

A yawn escaped you before you could hide it, and you quickly breathed an apology, but he just waved you off.

“You must be exhausted from that drive,” he said, his voice soft. “You should get some sleep.”

You nodded in agreement and gave him a thankful smile. “Is it okay if I sleep out here?”

The look on his face was quizzical, forcing a laugh from you. “Why would you do that?”

“I have this tradition where whenever I’m in a new place, I always sleep in the living room on the first night. It’s good luck.”

“Whatever you say.” His lips pulled back into an unconvinced smirk. “Well, yeah, you live here now too, so you can sleep wherever you’d like.”

He disappeared into his room for only a moment before popping his head back out, fingers wrapped around the door frame.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

You tried not to look too taken aback by the question, but you could feel your cheeks flushing warm. You raked your eyes along the couch, entirely positive that there wasn’t enough space for the two of you to lay out on it together fully - at least, not without being pressed flush against one another. However, his face looked innocent and soft - not a single tint of mischief colored across his features.

“Yeah, that-. I guess that’s okay,” you agreed sheepishly with a shrug. “But I’m not sure we’ll both fit if I’m being honest.”

He frowned questioningly at you, his brows lacing together until he realized what you thought he meant. His face instantly turned a light shade of pink to match yours. “No, no,” he quickly assured in between a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with you - I’ll take the recliner.”

“Oh, right.” You gave a nervous laugh of your own, cursing yourself out in your head for being so dull.

You were still well embarrassed as you made a nest of blankets on the couch and he brought out a pillow for you when you realized yours were still tucked deep in your bag of bedding. When each of you was situated on your respective pieces of furniture, he flicked the light off with a comfortable sigh.

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice taking on a tone that was far too smug for your liking. “You were awfully quick to agree to sleep next to me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?”

You knew he was teasing, but your heart rate still managed to pick up under the pressure. You had never been particularly good with awkward social situations; you rolled your eyes in the dark, thankful he couldn’t see how red you were. “No, Josh. I do not have a crush on you.”

��Okay,” he said through a melodic laugh, and you got the feeling that he’d gotten the reaction he was aiming for from you. “Should we be best friends though?”

You snorted a laugh of your own, wanting to be annoyed at how likable he was, but falling short. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, I think.” You curled up, clutching your blanket tight to your body. “But yes. We can be friends.”

“Okay, cool - I’ll order matching t-shirts for us.” You could hear the pleased grin he was wearing, making you feel warm and cozy. You pulled the worn blanket up to your chin.

“See to it that you do.”

Author’s Note: okay, I hope you guys like it! please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it. I’m using the same taglist from my Jake!fic, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to be tagged!

#josh fic #josh kiszka fic #josh x reader #joshxreader #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #brightest blue fic

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kpopimaginings · 3 years ago

Text

Experimenting - JayB (NSFW)

A/N: This involves fem!reader topping to try out a new kink (pegging) with JayB. If any of that doesn’t sound like your cup of tea, feel free to keep scrolling. If it interests you then wonderful, please enjoy!

You entered your bedroom, where JayB was relaxing on the bed reading, slightly nervous to start the conversation you wanted to have.

"Jaebeom?" you said as you knelt on the bed beside him, hands clasped in your lap.

He held up a finger, asking you to wait while he finished what he was reading, a signal you were used to now that you lived with your bookworm of a boyfriend.

"Ok, what's up?" he asked, as he tucked his bookmark back in his book.

"Well, you know how we agreed that if we wanted to try anything new out, like, sexually, we would be open with each other about it?"

JayB sat himself further up at your words, suddenly very interested in where this conversation was going.

"I know, normally, you dom and that's fine, but I bought a new toy and I wanted to try it out on you."

He couldn't quite decide whether your words made him excited or apprehensive.

"What kind of toy?" he asked, hesitantly.

"A strap-on."

JayB's eyes went wide at your blunt delivery.

"I've heard that it actually gives the guy more pleasure than just normal sex," you continued quickly, "And if I'm honest the thought of giving you an orgasm that intense and just watching you blissed out beneath me and because of me is really turning me on."

Suddenly, JayB's lips were pressed against yours as his hands tugged you closer by the waist.

"I take it that's a yes," you chuckled.

"I'm worried you're going to realise how much fun domming is and try to take over more often, but yes, let's try it," he smiled at you.

"Like, now?" you asked.

JayB chuckled, "Well, I sure hope you're planning on doing it now, because you can't go getting me all excited like that and expect me to go back to reading."

"I'm pleased you like the sound of it too," you told him, your voice low and sultry now. "You strip, I'll get the stuff."

You stripped yourself, before grabbing the toy and some lube. When you turned back to your boyfriend, he was naked, laying back on the bed, already hardening at the thought of what was about to happen. Securing the strap-on around your hips you climbed on to the bed, your hands hooking under JayB's knees causing him to bend his legs, his feet now planted flat against the mattress.

"Are you sure you're OK with this?" you asked once more, wanting to ensure he was comfortable and happy with what was about to happen.

He nodded. "I'm curious, I need to know how it feels. If it's not good I'll tell you. Same safe word as normal," he confirmed.

You smiled at him, placing the lube on the bed beside you. Once again, you grabbed his knees, pushing them up to his chest, positioning the both of you so that you had better access to him.

"Keep your legs up," you told him, and as you moved your hands away, his replaced them.

Grabbing the lube again, you flipped it open and squeezed it out straight on to JayB, your fingers catching it before it reached the sheets beneath him.

With your eyes trained carefully on his face to make sure you never pushed too far, you slowly push one of your now lubricated fingers into him. You watched his expression as he adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation, his breath catching in his throat as he swallowed deeply, eyes making contact with yours. Once he began breathing in a normal rhythm again, you took it as a good sign and began to move your finger in and out of him, twisting and bending it slightly to experiment with different angles.

When JayB started to move his hips into you, you spoke, "More?"

"Please," he breathed out.

You obliged by adding another finger, stilling for a moment while he adjusted to the stretch.

"Ok," he told you, once he felt comfortable.

Once again you started to move your fingers in and out of him, gradually pushing deeper. You continued your motions for a while, the last thing you wanted to do was end up hurting JayB or making him uncomfortable, when he suddenly let out a loud whimper. You'd never heard him make a sound like it, and you couldn't deny how much it aroused you.

"Did that feel good, baby?" you asked him, moving your fingers to stroke the same point inside him.

"Yes- oh God- so good," he moaned out beneath you, head thrown back into the pillow.

With his neck so exposed, you couldn't resist the urge to lean forward and kiss your way up his chest, neck, jaw, finally connecting your lips to his. As he relaxed into the moment, you slowly added a third finger to stretch him out enough to be comfortable with the strap-on.

"Babe," he mumbled against your lips.

You paused your movements in case he wanted you to slow down or stop completely.

"Touch me?"

You smiled as you pulled back to your previous position.

"Anything for you, my handsome prince."

You quickly added some lube to your other hand, before reaching for his length. He began to whine again as you stroked him slowly, in time with the movements of your fingers.

You could tell JayB was getting more and more comfortable with the situation; his eyes fluttered closed and you noticed his grip on his legs loosen.

"You ready for the toy now?"

"Hmm, please."

You let out a low laugh, amazed at how much he was enjoying himself already. He'd had a point; you were really enjoying being in charge for a change.

Pulling your hands away, you stroked the strap-on, before adding some extra lube. Running your hand up and down the length of it, you spread the lube along it, causing JayB to adjust himself on the bed as the sight turned him on even more.

"I'll go slow but tell me if you need me to stop for a bit, OK?" you told him.

He simply nodded vigorously, biting at his lower lip.

You lined up at his entrance, then leant forward over him, his legs now resting on your shoulders, freeing up his hands. You began edging your hips forward little by little. He let out small gasps every so often causing you to stop until he was comfortable, when you would start moving again. Once he had fully adjusted to the sensation you began to move your hips. As you fell into a steady rhythm, you leant down, pressing a passionate kiss to his lips. One of his hands came up to tangle in your hair while the other snaked between you to pleasure himself, picking up where you had left off.

Suddenly, a loud moan emitted from your boyfriend, causing you to smirk down at him.

"Did I find your sweet spot again?" you asked even though you clearly already knew the answer.

JayB was always an incredibly attractive man, but looking down at him now, naked, panting, face screwed up in pleasure, was the most arousing sight you'd ever had the joy of witnessing. The combination of the view and his sinful moans spurred you on, your hips rolling into him.

Once you'd worked out the perfect angle to thrust at, your boyfriend was a writhing, whimpering mess under you.

"I w-hmm, won't last... much longer," he panted, one fist balled up in the sheets beneath him while the other continued to stroke himself.

"That's OK," you told him softly, "Whenever your ready, just let go."

Despite the sinful thoughts in your head about how hot it would be to deny him his orgasm while he is this blissed out, it was the first time so you wanted to be considerate. If he enjoyed this and wanted to try it again, you had many plans on how to tease him and torture him.

With some more load moans, interrupted only by a few muttered curses, JayB came. You slowed your hips gradually to a stop in time with his hand.

As you pulled out, you gently lower his legs back to the bed.

"Just wait there, baby, I'll be right back," you told him as you stood, removed the toy and ran to the bathroom for something to clean him up with.

When you got back, you found him exactly where you him, one arm draped over his closed eyes, chest still rapidly rising and falling.

You started to clean off his abs, having also quickly wiped yourself down in the bathroom after how much mess he made.

"Thank you so much for indulging me," you said as you finished.

The hand that had been lying limply at his side now reached out for you. Obliging him you laid down beside him, reaching up to move his arm away from his face before stroking his cheek.

"Are you OK?" you asked him.

He hummed happily.

"I'm gonna need some actual words here, Jae," you laughed. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah," he breathed out. "That was intense."

"In a good way, I hope."

"In the best way," he told you, cupping your face and pulling you in to a tender kiss. "But now I think I need an aftercare massage and then a hot bath and cuddles with my best girl."

"As you long as you mean me, not Nora, you've got it."

"Yeah, I don't think Nora would appreciate a bath."

You laughed at his words before sitting up and letting him roll over so you could give him the requested massage.

NAVIGATION | GOT7 MASTERLIST

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fumingspice · 4 years ago

Text

andante

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: oK so how about like?? Delia x reader and they're both in love af but they think the other has no feelings for them so they're both tripping over themselves to make the other love them and then madison comes in and she's just like 'stop being dumb' and they finally realise how much the other loves them.

I’m sorry but my ed crept back in and im not horny enough to put more thought into writing so just ignore the massive time skip at “---”. enjoy, you strange people xo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*(*❦ω❦)*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's crazy. Falling. You see? We don't say "rising into love". There is in it, the idea of the fall. And it goes back to extremely fundamental things. That there is always a curious tie at some point between the fall and the creation. Taking this ghastly risk is the condition of there being life. You see, for all life is an act of faith and an act of gamble...

Between Cordelia Goode's ears were pretty brown eyes and a mind full of thoughts. Brown eyes were never really your favourite until you saw them on her. You knew yourself that somehow, over the years you got to know Cordelia; working with her, befriending her, carrying her home from the bar one night when she got far too drunk, letting her cry into your shoulder when her job became too real and she could feel her mother's words hanging over her head.

When you started falling for the woman with those beautiful brown eyes.

Somehow, her eyes were now your favourite colour.

Not brown- brown wasn't simply the word for the colour. Cordelia's eyes were the colour of aged whiskey. Sometimes they were the only two safe shots of tequila that you could see. Sometimes they were a beautiful milk chocolate dotted with exposed honeycomb. Once when she had asked you to help her decorate the garden for the Summer Equinox- she had given Zoe enough money to take the girls on a field trip for the day so she could give the girls a little party. You stood watching her in her denim shorts and her white button up. When she had stepped back and put her arm around you to admire both of your handy work you could have sworn her eyes were glowing like fresh magma.

Her hand lay on your waist a split second too long.

You had fallen in love with the Supreme.

"Yo, bitch!" Madison Montgomery's usual entrance phrase disturbed you from your imagination. You raised your brow and smirked.

"Yes, Madison?"

The blonde took her sunglasses off her face and closed them with a slight snap. "The girls want to know if you wanna come to play Pysch! with us," she said. Her lips were curled in what could almost be described as a friendly smile. You were one of the few honoured to know that under Madison's bitchy white girl facade there was actually a very sweet someone lurking under there.

You thought for a moment and put your pen down. "I won't be long- I just have to log these last few names and I'll be there," you tell her. Madison rolled her eyes and waved her hand, the pen lifted itself and wrote the last thirteen names within seconds. "You're done. Let's go, Y/N."

Madison didn't even give you a minute to say anything before she walked out of the room. "Come on, bitch. Don't make me use my powers!" she called from the hallway, finally motivating you to move.

The girls sat in a circle in Zoe's bedroom. Lights off. Candles lit.

Zoe, Queenie, Mallory, and Coco were indulged in their phones for the game. Madison turned to you and held up her phone to show you the question. "What is Zoe's deepest, darkest secret?" she read. "You gotta answer it and the person with the most votes wins. It lasts for ten rounds and it can be fucking hilarious."

Zoe's face was red with laughter at the answers. "She's not actually a witch- that's not even funny," she gasped through cackles. She then sobered slightly. "She likes to watch Danny Devito movies while masturbating and screaming 'I am a dirty man'."

Madison was the only one who chortled at that.

You joined the game and got your best answers ready in your head. "If Madison got arrested tomorrow what would it be for?"

Madison rolled her eyes and muttered something about knowing exactly what everyone was about to answer. You smirked slightly, sensing her slight apprehension.

Prostitution.

Murder. Third-degree.

Fucking up the brakes on a bus full of frat boys.

Public Nudity.

"Gosh, you're so original," she muttered, glaring right at Zoe, who just shrugged.

"It's the rules of the game, bitch. Go all in, don't get offended," she replied.

The game pinged for the next question.

"What is on Y/N's mind right now?"

Coco gave a loud "Ha!" and typed quickly, along with the other girls who were all typing as quickly as possible to get their answers in first.

A quiet knock came from the other side of the door and Cordelia poked her head around. "Sorry to interrupt, girls. Y/N, could I borrow you for a moment?" she asked, voice sweet and angelic. You bounced up as soon as she finished the sentence and obliged straight away. You were met with a sweet smile.

Madison flicked her brows. "Speak of the devil," she muttered, winking at Delia's slightly confused face. As you left, your phone pinged to announce the results just before you left the game.

Cordelia 🥵🥵🥵

Delia. I ship it <3

Getting knuckle deep finger fucked by the HWIC

French fries

You quickly shut off your phone screen before Cordelia could see.

"What's the matter, Delia?" You asked, practically skipping alongside her. There was a vibrant air of satisfaction between you.

Cordelia shook her head, her blonde hair bobbing with her movements. “I just wanted to know if you’d like to go out.”

You felt your heart stop. “Go out?”

Cordelia looked hurt by the confusion on your face.

“Yes. Would you like to join me in the garden?”

“Oh,” you realised, slightly disappointed. “I would love to.”

---

"For the love of Hades. Right, I don’t mean to sound rude or anything because I have some understanding that lesbians are fucking useless because of the fear of appearing to be predatory because the media is an asshole,” Madison continued. “But I don’t really think any of us can eat at this table anymore without choking on the fucking sexual tension between the both of you.”

Cordelia looked shocked. “It’s not that-”

“I’m a fucking mindreader! You do get that I can fucking hear the things that you say in your head about what you want to do to Y/N? I’m one gutter minded bitch and not even I’m creative enough to come up with that shit while I’m eating my fucking apple turnover!”

You blushed hard and chuckled.

Madison’s neck snapped towards you. “Oh, and don’t getting me fucking started on you! Do you know how fucking unsanitary it would be to carry out your little fantasies of fucking Cordy on the kitchen counter? Not even for us but the amount of fucking crumbs that would work into your nooks and crannies would be like trying to spring clean Myrtle's fucking hair! "

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cordelia chuckled nervously. Her face turning a shade of red. “I’m sure Y/N’s got plenty of better options.”

Madison dropped her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. “God, you bitches are going to put fucking years on my skin.”

“Oh, give me a break, Madison.”

Cordelia stumbled foward slightly, having been tripped up by some unseeable force and sending her tumbling into you. Her hands lay against your chest for that split second too long once more.

Your lips parted for a moment and your breath hitched as you both watched Madison smirk and leave the room. It felt like your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. You surroundings were unnoticable to you now; replaced by unidentifiable whirls of colour and light. Your hand rested flat on Cordelia’s cheek. It was different this time. Not the spark, that had been there every time you touched. It was the fact that you were both too slow to ignore the ignition that started in your chests.

You saw her eyebrows falter from their previously confident expression, like all of her preparation and barriers and walls had fallen down and she was too slow to replace them. Cordelia pursed her lips, presumably trying to figure out what she should say to you. Again, she was too slow as you inhaled sharply and thrust yourself forward to catch her lips.

Delia was quick to mould herself to the curves of your front, hands falling to the small of your back on a collision course as she backed you into the dining room table. You smoothed your hands over the contours of her jaw, her collar bones, breasts, hips like you were a master pianist playing a brilliant concerto. Her body was the only instrument you longed to play; her moans the only melody that you longed to draw from her.

As her lips glided across your own, everything came together like pieces into place. You thought back one of those late nights in the kitchen. The way Delia’s fingers had so enthusiastically laced through yours during the late night in the kitchen when you had both stayed up until the wee hours of the morning talking about life. How the witch had turned the radio on and taken your hand while you danced to some song by REO Speedwagon. Twirling you through the night. “Can’t fight this feeling” was the song. Ironic, now that you thought about it. It seemed as though fighting her feelings was what she had been doing the entire time.

She twirled you around in the light of the dim television and the refrigerator when the songs were upbeat, even going as far as dipping you and pulling you up again. Bare thighs against your own in her shorts and oversized shirt. When the songs that were played were slower, she was more gentle. Until eventually you swayed in a slow two-step, your head against her chest, and hers against yours. The air was thick with something pure. Something untouched.

You had no idea why you ever just thought this was something two best friends did. More so, you had no idea why you didn’t lean back and dip into her lips and allow your souls to dance the waltz that they were so clearly destined for.

Cordelia’s thumb and finger lay on either side of your jaw as she continued to kiss you as if her soul depended on it. Her fingers interlocked with yours against the table.

She broke away, tears had fallen down her cheeks and made your heart melt. “Oh-ho,” you chuckled, mouth agape at her sight. “Why the tears, my love?”

Cordelia laughed, wiping away her tears. “I’ve longed to do that for so long,” she replied. “So, so long.”

You chuckled at her sweetness and the display of pure love that you were so unaccustomed to.

“I fell in love with you, Y/N. I don’t think I will ever stop falling in love with you. You’ve created this storm of beautiful chaos in me,” she continued. “Do you remember that night where I was really sleepy, so you let me just stay in your room? How I had fallen asleep on top of you by accident and you wrapped your arms around me and hummed a lullaby?”

You nodded, remember the feeling of waking up with the Supreme in your arms.

“I was wide awake,” she told you. A delicate smile arose.

You chuckled into her touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you replied, drawing her closer, her blonde hair twirled in your fingers. “I know you were.”

#ahs #ahs imagines #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #lana winters #lana winters x reader #sally mckenna #sally mckenna x reader

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amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: She wonders if Akaashi Keiji could be her forever, (but then in the silence, her heart breaks).

Pairing: Akaashi x reader, Yaku x reader

Sequel here

AO3 Link here

She meets Akaashi at an office mixer for magazine staff – he, an up and coming editor in the manga department, she, a translator for two languages.

Their paths meet when she spills a drink on his shoes (honestly, large crowds were never her forte) and her interest is immediately piqued when he smiles at her calmly and tells her he never liked that pair of shoes anyway. Then they start bumping into each other at work. She learns he drinks a prodigious amount of coffee – always black, from the number of times she catches him bent over the vending machine in the pantry. He saves her from the wrath of the printing machine when she forgets to remove the staples from her papers again.

‘We should go out for dinner’, she tells him, because she’s been taught to get out there and chase what she wants (and she rather likes the broadness of his shoulders and the patience in his eyes), and while he’s mildly taken aback, he agrees. She takes him for dumplings in a greasy diner, practically a hole in the wall, and is gratified when he doesn’t seem to mind that she eats almost as much as he. He doesn’t agree to let her pay for him – she tries to insist because she’s the one who asked, after all – but he does agree to split the bill.

He brings her to his favourite bookstore the following week, and they sit in a nook with their respective books and share a pot of tea. She discovers his dry sense of humour through long conversations about any and everything. He admires the contours of her mind when she rambles about work in three languages to him.

Months pass – and by the year’s end, he asks her to move in with him.

They find a flat a few stops from work. It’s small, but he manages to squeeze in a sprawling bookshelf groaning with the weight of his books, and she stuffs it full of knick knacks she stole from her parents’ home. They walk to work and leave for home together.

They spend nights on the couch sharing pots of tea, he - buried in his work, she - immersed in music, and on weekends they explore parks and bookstores and restaurants and museums. They discuss heatedly whether to adopt a cat or dog (she prefers the former, he prefers the latter) and talk about the possibility of buying a house in a year or two.

She begins to think that this could be her forever, and wonders if he feels the same.

‘Are you really dating Akaashi-san?’, Hana-chan from accounting asks curiously over lunch one day.

‘Yes’, she answers with a slight frown. ‘Why?’

‘You two seem so formal with each other’, Hana titters. ‘If he didn’t send you flowers ever Friday, any one watching you both would assume you’re just friends.’

‘Keiji is just reserved’, she defends him heatedly, ‘He’s affectionate enough in private with me.’

Hana laughs at her frown - ‘I’m sure, I’m sure - it’s just strange to find someone so shy about their love in this day and age’.

Hana isn’t wrong per se - she remembers an incident in their early days of dating when she tried to hold his hand and steal a kiss from him, but Keiji avoided her grasp and muttered a firm ‘not in public, dear’. Still, she tells herself she doesn’t mind that, her heart is warm enough from the gentle kisses he presses to her face in the comfort of their little home.

‘Busy, busy Keiji’, she says, a teasing lilt in her tone. ‘It’s time to go home’.

‘I still have work to do tonight’, he frowns down at the page in his hand. ‘I’ll meet you at home?’

‘Sure’, she chirps. ‘I’ll have a cup of tea waiting for you when you get home’.

‘I actually prefer coffee’, he replies, an embarrassed flush on his face. ‘I can’t keep awake with just tea’.

‘You’re going to continue working at home?’ She tilts her head to look at him confusedly, because yes - deadlines are tight in the publishing industry, but Keiji’s just powered through a major submission and is up for a promotion because of it - so it doesn’t make sense that he’s still so busy. ‘Rest is important, Keiji’.

‘I know but I asked for extra assignments - I thought I should challenge myself’.

It’s her turn to frown. ‘Oh’, she says, and her disappointment must be evident in her face because he turns to catch her arm. ‘Work is important, darling. Surely you understand.’ He gives her a slight smile. ‘I promise I’ll make it up to you when all of this ends’. ‘

Alright’, she says, trying to smooth her frown from her face. ‘I shan’t be mad since you promised so nicely’, she jokes half-heartedly and heads off alone.

The flat is cold and empty. She hums to herself to fill the silence as she fixes herself a cup of tea.

‘Working late again?’ she asks.

He’s crouched over his desk in the office, multiple cups of coffee and stacks of paper marked in red strewn everywhere. The smudges beneath his eyes are a darker purple than she remembers, the skin of his hands almost translucent beneath the harsh office light and scarlet ink stains.

‘Mm’, he nods. His eyes do not leave the page.

‘I’ll see you later?’ she offers, and leaves when he offers no reply.

She leans her forehead on the sofa (ignoring how it’s too big for her alone) and plays the songs her mother used to sing until she feels like she’s home.

‘You’re working yourself too hard’, she tells him on another late night.

‘I’ve got work to do’ he responds, blinking owlishly up at her as if he can’t believe she doesn’t understand. She does – really, but it’s raining and she doesn’t want to walk home alone.

‘Work can wait’, she tries again, running her hand along his arm, frowning as he shrugs her off.

‘Not here’, he tells her firmly. ‘Not anywhere’, she can’t help but think to herself.

A car splashes her with rainwater as it drives by. She stands under the scalding hot shower for far too long, telling herself it’s because she’s trying to scrub the dirt marks off her legs (and definitely not because she’s hiding the tears sliding down her face). There’s an ache beneath her ribs that she can’t acknowledge (because if she does, it means the crack in her heart is real), so she sings her favourite songs to herself until she can pretend she’s ok.

‘I’m home’, he calls to her, his voice echoing in the flat.

‘Keiji!’ she bounces into the hallway to greet him, but the thick stack of paper he draws out of his briefcase makes her heart sink. ‘Oh well’, she thinks to herself, and does what she always does when she’s alone - puttering around the kitchen, humming songs with a cheerful melody. But when she fetches him a cup of tea, she notices a furrow in his brow, traces the downward slant of his mouth, hears the harsh tap of his slim fingers against his desk.

‘Is everything ok?’ She approaches him cautiously, placing her hand on his shoulder. ‘You seem a little tense.’

‘Everything's fine, I just can’t focus when you’re making so much noise’, he says curtly.

‘I’m sorry’, she offers contritely, flinching inwardly at the lines of irritation appearing on his face. ‘But it’s the weekend, Keiji. Surely you can take some time off work?’

‘No, I can't. You wouldn’t understand’, he responds, waving her off dismissively.

‘We haven’t spent much time together in a while. Maybe we can go for dinner tonight?’, she persists, ignoring the pain sharpening in her chest.

‘I said I can’t, I have work’, he snaps at her, not noticing when she takes an involuntary step back. ‘You obviously don’t understand.’

‘I do understand’, she tells him quietly, because she does - she’s not some flunky working in a dead-end job – for heaven’s sake they’re professionals in the same industry. She wouldn’t be in line for promotion at the end of the year if she weren’t herself adept at managing the stress of impending deadlines and an overwhelming workload - but he does not respond.

So she stays silent. And in the absence of sound, she can hear her heart break.

She has vacation days to spare, so she packs her bags and moves out into her sister’s place.

It’s a little sad how easy it is to avoid Keiji’s notice since he’s never at home. He must notice when she’s gone though because he tries calling her the day after – once, twice, and by the third time she sends a single text – ‘it’s over. Please don’t contact me again’, and promptly blocks his number. But he’s persistent, waiting by her desk with a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers when she heads back to work.

‘Talk to me’, he begs, and she suppresses the urge to tell him that she tried, goddamnit - but she’s done, please go away and leave her alone, but his face is drawn and his eyes are bloodshot, and she reminds herself – this is Keiji, the man she fell in love with over plates of dumplings and shared pots of tea, the man she once believed could be her forever, and agrees to meet him for lunch on the weekend.

‘But not now’, she says, unable to resist a parting shot – ‘work is very important to you after all’.

She regrets it immediately when she sees his shoulders stiffen and something in his eyes break.

They arrange to meet at the café in his favourite bookstore. She turns up five minutes early but finds he’s already there waiting. He orders coffee – black, without sugar, and she gets tea with a slice of cake.

‘Come home to me. Please. I miss you’, he blurts out, looking at her with pleading eyes.

‘I can’t do that’, she says, shaking her head because their flat hasn’t felt like home for so long – no, not in the absence of sound, the silence so still she heard her heart break.

‘I can fix this’, he promises desperately. ‘I’ll stop working so hard, I’ll come home for dinner with you - it’ll be just like what we used to do, and we’ll be happy again’.

‘Keiji’, she says, a sad smile on her face. ‘There’s nothing left to fix. Can you honestly promise you won’t end up resenting me - resenting us - when exciting assignments and promotions pass you by, because you feel obliged to split your time between work and me?’

‘I could never resent you’, he tells her brokenly. ‘Never.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Keiji’, she replies tiredly. ‘You and I both know you love your work more than you love me’.

He shakes his head in denial, eyes red and glassy and she stops him with a finger to his trembling lips before she continues, the words bitter in her mouth - 'It’s ok to admit that you fell out of love with me. I should have realised that a long time ago. You deserve to find someone you love more than your work, and I deserve to find someone who’ll put me first’.

At this, he lets out a quiet cry, and she can hear her heart crack open again. But the sad truth is she knows it’s over – has been over ever since she’s allowed her heart to be burnt slowly by his neglect, the ashes building up in her chest.

‘I’m sorry, Keiji’, she turns to leave, a bittersweet smile twisting her lips. ‘It's time to let each other go’.

To his credit, he doesn’t pester her at work, though he sends her flowers every Friday – pink camellias for longing, violets for devotion, forget-me-nots for obvious reasons, and she draws the line when he starts to send her red roses (for love), sending him a strongly worded note to let her go. He finally stops, and she’s relieved when he takes her advice and asks out a girl from the publishing department – a peach blossom girl, thoroughly gentle and sweet and soft spoken. She tells herself she’s happy for him.

Still – there’s a dull ache in her chest when she sees them share an umbrella together when they leave work, a poisoned whisper in her mind wondering why she wasn’t quite enough for him, and an awkwardness when she bumps into either of them - especially that awful time she got stuck in the lift with said peach blossom girl, neither woman quite knowing where to look. It's enough to push her to resign right after she collects her bonus.

She’s always dreamed of joining the diplomatic corps, and luckily, since she’s fluent in Russian, it’s easy enough for her to land a posting with the Japanese embassy in Moscow. So she chops her hair (she hears that’s what break-ups make girls do), packs her bags and gets on a flight to her next adventure.

Moscow is as colourless and dreary as she imagined, so she wouldn’t have thought a quiet shade of brown might catch her eye as it does when the Japanese embassy hosts a party during New Year’s Day and she meets one Yaku Morisuke, a libero playing in the Russian Volleyball Super League, and from what she hears, a vital member of the Japanese National team.

She can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of déjà vu when she bumps into him and spills her drink all over his shoes, but it’s eased when he shoots her a wide grin and tells her not to worry even though it’s his favourite pair of shoes.

‘You can teach me Russian over dinner as payment instead’, he tells her cheekily, and he takes her for Russian dumplings, full of beef and pork and potatoes. ‘It’s a little strange but it’s the closest thing I can find to home’, he says, eyes bright. He lets her pay the bill, but insists she let him pay when they go out again.

‘Are we going out again?’ She teases, and feels her heart skip a beat when he pouts at her with puppy-dog eyes. To no one’s surprise, they meet for a second date, then a third, and their days together soon blends into happy memories of ice skating and dumplings and steaming cups of tea.

‘Why don’t you move in with me’, Yaku asks her matter of factly through a mouthful of rice, at the end of her tirade about her awful landlord who just tried to double her rent in less than a year.

Her mouth opens and closes as she processes the thought and her mind moves into overdrive, worrying she’s moving too fast, falling too fast (the spectre of the trainwreck that was her and Keiji buzzing at the back of her mind) - but then she realises she’s being unfair to him.

Because Yaku - or Mori as she now calls him, is nothing like him. He’s short (though she’d never admit it), whereas Keiji is tall. Quick tempered to Keiji’s calm temperament. But more importantly, he delights in spending time with her even after a long, hard day at work, humming contentedly to the songs she sings, and he never shies away from affection - relishes it, rather, pulling her close with the edges of her woollen scarf to kiss her openly on the street.

‘Come on’, he wheedles. ‘We could even adopt a kitten so you won’t be lonely when I’m away for work’, and he laughs fondly when her face lights up.

You drive a hard bargain, but alright’, she pretends to grouse, heart in throat, but echoes his laughter when he triumphantly leans over to press his lips to her cheek.

She - with their cat in tow - returns back to Japan when Mori’s drafted to play for the Japanese team in the Olympics.

‘Akaashi!’ she exclaims, spotting a familiar mop of dark hair in the VIP stand. ‘What are you doing here?’

He waves a friendly hello. ‘I never told you I played volleyball in high school?’ he asks and when she shakes her head, he points to a tall man with grey and white streaks in his dark hair. ‘I used to be Bokuto-san’s setter’, he tells her, pride evident in his calm voice.

‘That’s so cool’, she says cheerfully, checking back to the court to see if Mori’s playing yet. Then she glances at him once over, noticing lines under his eyes that weren’t there before. ‘Keiji’, she says, the once familiar name now foreign on her tongue. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good’, he replies with a small smile. ‘Surviving. Alright, I guess.’

‘Not married yet?’ she asks playfully.

‘No, we broke up’, he tells her plainly, waving away her apologies. ‘And you?’

‘Nope, not married yet’, she says with a distracted smile.

He wonders if he should seize the moment to tell her what he’s wanted to say when their relationship ended in flames (starting with ‘I’m sorry for everything’, and ending with a hopeful ‘maybe we can try again’) but he stops short when she shouts ‘Mori! Mori!’, as a short, brown haired man steps onto the court.

‘You know Yaku?’ Akaashi asks curiously. Nekoma libero, often overlooked but extremely dangerous - he remembers.

‘He’s my boyfriend’, she chirps, eyes glued to the court. ‘Do you know him too?’

‘We used to play each other in school’, he answers faintly, watching her cheer and wave her hands wildly. She’s happy, he thinks, she’s really moved on - and that thought selfishly makes his stomach sink.

‘He’s a good man’, he finally finds himself telling her.

‘The best’, she agrees, the sparkle in her eyes so bright he’s forced to look away.

He thinks he must be a masochist when he watches her throw herself headfirst into Yaku’s arms at the end of the match, the regretful ‘what ifs’ and ‘that could’ve been me’ thundering in his ears. Still, he knows she deserves someone who’ll always put her first, and with that thought ringing in his mind, he waits until she’s distracted with Bokuto-san’s antics before he steps forward, hand outstretched to Yaku.

‘Take care of her’, Akaashi says with a bittersweet smile. ‘You’re a lucky man’.

Yaku gives him an assessing look. ‘Always’, he promises firmly, taking his hand.

She returns home first, and he follows a few weeks later, after a whirlwind of awards and press interviews.

He breaks into a run when he sees her, swinging her into his arms at the arrival gate, and when they get home she cooks dumplings for him. ‘In case you miss home already’, she tells him teasingly, but flushes when he answers ‘but with you, I am home’, and blushes bright red when he carries her off to bed.

‘I want this to be my forever’, Mori tells her as he lays his head in her lap.

‘So do I’, she replies, her heart humming quietly, finally in safe hands. ‘So do I’.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic rec #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi imagine #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi headcanons #akaashi angst #yaku morisuke

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apinklion01 · 3 years ago

Text

Going Angst

Day Three: Family

Walker didn’t go far from his post at the prison unless it was for patrols or if a prisoner escaped. He had a very private corner tucked away within the walls which served as his main lair where no other ghost could go.

So any other ghost stood clear when he did venture further out into the Ghost Zone. He liked that they kept their distance. They knew the consequences if they didn’t. He was the only one trying to keep any sense of order down here, and he worked hard to keep it that way.

There were only two occurrences where a ghost didn’t give him respect: the mangy excuse for a werewolf and the Phantom.

The werewolf he could care less for. The ghost was powerful, yes, but Walker knew more about his time in the living realm than the mutt would ever know, and that was all he needed to give him an upper edge when dealing with the furry convict.

The Phantom was another story.

He was a freak even by ghost standards. A spirit boundless from the planes of life and death who moved between them freely thanks to the wrenched machine his family had built within a place called Amity Park.

The teen was impulsive, rash, and even led a prison escape that left Walker and his squadrons beaten up and reinforcing the security measures.

However due to being half ghost, the Phantom remained the sole convict that the warden knew he couldn’t lock up permanently.

But something was odd during the time he talked to the teen.

Walker heard an unusual song in his ears. One he hadn’t heard since his time in the living world. A song from his mother, supposedly handed down from members of her side of the family tree.

That very song kept repeating while he fought the Phantom, and only stopped after he was long gone.

But why?

Tired of asking himself questions, Walker decided to venture to the Library of Alexandria. The legendary building was open to any in the Ghost Zone so long as you didn’t start any fights that could damage the books and scrolls inside.

Walker didn’t learn everything about ghosts from word of the ear. Prior to dying, he came across a few books teaching him an intermediate amount of how the spectors worked. Their powers, obsessions, weaknesses. While Walker didn’t have access to the more offensive abilities, the knowledge was all he needed to fight such supernatural entities, even beyond his final breath.

He continued building more knowledge by returning to the library. There was a section specifically for new ghosts who wanted to learn about how to handle the afterlife, but also for older ones to learn of rituals, common spells, and caring for their cores.

Walker made his way down the aisle, a young apprentice of a librarian having handed out the book that might have the answers he needed.

His eyes spotted the name of a book: Melbourne’s Guide to a Spectral Entity. It appeared to be far older than anything Walker had read, the spine of the book faded and tearing apart, the threads loose on the covers.

Walker took out the book from the shelf, a few lowly blob ghosts scuttling away to undisturbed places of the library. Prying the book open, he grazed through the pages, the words mostly in Old English, yet he somehow was able to read them.

One page stood out. A ghost and a human side by side, the older being a ghost, a depiction of their core present.

If a ghost dies prior to learning about any future descendants or relatives, a song they hold dear will be heard when they encounter them. The living or dead relatives will not be able to hear the song until the older one speaks the truth. When they do, then the relative will be seen as a true descendant.

Rediscovering and reuniting is held as sacred to all ghosts. To break the bonds of family is viewed as disgraceful unless done properly. If not, dire consequences may occur to both the living and dead members.

Walker nearly dropped the book. It was impossible. There couldn’t be any connection between the Phantom and him.

Either the book was speaking blasphemy, or it was some sort of joke that the half ghost conceived. But the boy looked too young to think up such an act.

There was only one ghost who had the answer: the master of time himself.

One doesn’t simply wander into Clockwork’s lair. To some it’s visible occasionally, and to others it doesn’t even appear in the Ghost Zone unless they need his assistance.

Clockwork already had seen a few timelines where Walker would come inside, but didn’t bother to turn around, cleaning up a gear connecting the multiple clocks the building held inside.

“A simple greeting wouldn’t be too much to ask,” He said.

“I need you to show me something,” The warden’s deep voice spoke.

“Do you know what you need to see?” Clockwork answered, drifting down to the place where the ghost stood. He noted in several timelines that the ghost preferred touching the ground, avoiding acting like a ghost during his time in the Ghost Zone for more than half a century.

“I need you to show me a family. Any related descendants of John James Walker,” The ghost narrowed his eyes. It was dangerous to reveal the true name a ghost had prior to dying, but Clockwork had no usage for such knowledge and never told a soul any when they asked. Not even a certain Daniel James Fenton had the privilege.

“As you wish, though I warn you Walker, you may not like what you’ll see.”

Clockwork escorted Walker to an old mirror, where a small clock was inserted on the wooden frame. Nothing was visible on the mirror except both their reflections. A small flick of his wrist to the right, and the hands turned back fast until they were a mere blur.

Clockwork held his hand out and the clock stopped. In the mirror there were three children running on a farm. One was Will, a red headed boy, the other a brown haired girl named Elizabeth. The third was one he knew Walker recognized: himself. His hair was a dirty blonde color, yet his eyes were a stormy gray.

“Is this you,” Clockwork asked. Walker didn’t respond, stunned at the sight that he thought was all but in his memories.

“Bet you can’t catch me,” He heard his eldest brother shout.

“No fair, you had a head start,” His younger self cried out. Walker tentatively placed a hand on the mirror, the surface flickering like a leaf touching a puddle.

The ghost was silent as he watched the scene play out: a normal game of tag, with not a care in the world.

“Continue forward,” He spoke dryly, and Clockwork obliged.

The clock spun forward, and Clockwork halted it. The scene had changed to the inside of an old house. The sky beyond the windows was a dull gray, the grass in the distance muted green and brown colors.

A woman, Walker’s mother, stands by the door, reading a letter she had long awaited back from the army. Her anxious smile soon faded into disdain, and she muttered a few lines of the telegram to herself before she began to shake her head and cried. Her daughter Elizabeth, who was standing nearby, tries to console her but her words falter, and tears too begin pouring from her eyes.

A young Walker runs down the stairs, looking at both his family members. “Liz, what’s going on?” He asked worryingly.

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes wet from crying. “Dad,” She began, pausing as she coked up. “He’s not… coming back from the war…”

Clockwork maintained his distance, but saw Walker’s shoulders tense up. He took his hand away from the mirror, placing it inside one of his pockets.

The younger Walker in the mirror appeared confused. “Did he get held back again? Liz, tell me-”

“He’s gone Walker!” Elizabeth shouted before biting her lip. A shaky sigh escaped her mouth. “He’s gone…”

Clockwork turned the clock forward again. Walker didn’t seem to mind.

They paused again. Walker backed away again as the scene unfolded. It was a funeral being held around sunset. His mother appeared older, having begun growing gray hair and crying gently. William and Elizabeth were nearby with their own kids. Clockwork reckoned they were but six years old at the time of the unpleasant event.

“John, you didn’t deserve to go like this,” William spoke solemnly. “If we had known this was going to happen, maybe I’d have tried harder to convince you to tell the army to give you a break.”

“But you were an awful lot like dad,” He continued. “You didn’t want us to get too wrapped up in your troubles. I don’t know how many you had on your hands, ranging from learning I was drafted into the war to getting into the paranormal. All we have left of you are our memories. “

He set down a white lily onto the headstone marked with Walker’s name.

“I hope you still have them when I meet you on the other side.”

The rest of the funeral played in silence.

“Why are you showing me this,” Walker spoke, his head hung low.

“Your mother died sometime after your funeral,” Clockwork said quietly. “But her name lives on in one of your living relatives, Maddison. Elizabeth’s granddaughter.”

Walker perked up at the news, his eyes uncertain but wanting answers. “... Show me,” He muttered in slight disbelief.

The scene changed quickly, the hands slowing to a stop inside a modern home. Four figures were present. A woman, presumably Maddison, held a baby in her hands. It was easy to see the reason she was given the name, as she had a resemblance to Walker’s mother.

A man, the father of the baby, stood by, beckoning a smaller child to come forward. This one had reddish hair like her mother’s. The baby looked like it was recently born, their eyes remaining closed.

“Jazz, meet your baby brother,” The father spoke.

Jazz looked at the baby with big eyes. “He’s small.”

“He’s only a baby Jazz,” Maddie said quietly, her eyes full of nothing but love for her children. “And he’ll need you to be there for him, even if we’re not around. Can you promise me that?”

Jazz gave a tiny nod.

“Here, you can hold him,” Maddie spoke, handing the sleeping child into the other’s hands. Jazz carefully held him. The baby stirred, but didn’t wake up. Jazz gave a smile in awe.

“What’s his name?” Jazz asked.

“We’re giving him a special name,” Jack told her. “One part comes from a relative of your mother’s.”

“I had a great great grandfather who was around long before you or I were born,” Maddie said. “He passed away in a war, but he gave a name to one of my great grandfathers, John James Walker.”

Walker let a faintly audible gasp that Clockwork made out.

“We’re naming him Daniel James Fenton,” Maddie continued. “So he can grow up and be just as good as both of them.”

At that moment, baby Danny started to cry, startling Jazz. Maddie took her younger child back into her arms, rocking him back and forth.

“Shhh, don’t cry sweetie,” she spoke softly. “Shhh. I’m right here, I’ll always be here to protect you, my little Danny.” She began humming a melody Clockwork knew Walker had known his whole life.

Clockwork let the hand return to the present, and the mirror reflected both ghosts.

“So,” Clockwork said, floating over to clean the clock on the mirror. It had been a while since he had done so. “What will you do now?”

Walker didn’t respond for a minute, placing together the pieces in his head. The older ghost counted till the moment where the warden would ask the question.

“...He doesn’t know anything about this yet, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Clockwork said.

“You better not do any funny business, old man,” Walker muttered, walking toward the exit.

“What do you intend to do,” the time keeper questioned.

Walker stopped at the steps. “My job. I’m the one making any attempt at order. Only something like Pariah Dark could stop me from doing that.”

Clockwork sensed that the ghost had left before glancing at another mirror playing a particular timeline scenario: Danny looking through a scrapbook detailing Maddie’s side of the family tree.

“Fate isn’t kind to you, is it Daniel,” The Master of Time muttered.

#danny phantom #going angst week 2021 #dp walker #clockwork #pink lion dabbles

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 17 - ao3 -

The next week was far more enjoyable than Lan Qiren had thought it would be.

He wasn’t really sure, in retrospect, what he had anticipated a visit with Wen Ruohan to consist of – more awkward conversations or being forced to drink liquor, perhaps, although the apology of the blanket had largely assuaged his fears in that regard – but he hadn’t actually expected it to be fun.

Wen Ruohan took him around the Sun Palace and the Nightless City, allowing him to point out whatever caught his interest and casually narrating some interesting history of whatever it was, whether person, place, or thing. The Nightless City was full of treasures, some their own or won through acts of heroism, others looted from other sects; Wen Ruohan was not especially shy about describing how his sect had grown rich with subordinate sects, telling the stories of how his sect had defeated and devoured the others with relish, but it wasn’t as if such ruthless growth wasn’t echoed in every other Great Sect’s history as well. And Wen Ruohan himself was ancient, his involvement in the history of his sect personal, and above all else he was proud – endlessly proud.

He was proud of his city, of his sect, of his personal accomplishments. It was said of him that he thought every good thing under the sun rightfully belonged to him, and hearing him speak Lan Qiren could see why people thought so. Wen Ruohan thought other people were wasting their time with such treasures, leaving them to waste away half-used; he thought that he himself was the only one that could value them as he believed they deserved.

It wasn’t just items, though, whether valuable spiritual weapons or devices that any sect would keep as an heirloom. Wen Ruohan valued people, too: he had subordinates drawn from all over the cultivation world, those with special talents or high potential. Even when Lan Qiren hadn’t asked, Wen Ruohan made a special point of pointing them out, telling the story of how he’d saved this one and earned a life-debt, how he’d lured that one in with promises of riches and power, how he’d given his surname to a third who had in the end only wanted a place to belong.

It took a while for Lan Qiren to understand the message, unspoken as it was, but eventually he got it.

Like a treasured sword left to prop open a door, Wen Ruohan had said about Lan Qiren, way back when he’d sworn brotherhood with him in a drunken evening and reconfirmed it in the morning. Lan Qiren hadn’t believed him then, and he’d gone on not believing him for ages, but he was starting to suspect, to his bemusement, that Wen Ruohan actually meant it – that he thought Lan Qiren was something special, like his powerful subordinates or his talented artists and artisans, like the geniuses and scholars he added to his sect like adding flowers to a vase.

That their brotherhood wasn’t mostly a farce the way Lan Qiren had always assumed it was, whether a tease to Lao Nie or a mockery of the Lan sect, but rather something…genuine.

Lan Qiren wasn’t sure what to do about that, so he opted not to do anything at all, throwing it all in the back of his mind to be considered at length later. But he had to admit – he liked it.

He liked the attention Wen Ruohan paid him, the fact that an older man, powerful and respected and renowned throughout the cultivation world, thought he was worth spending time with even without anyone else there to mediate. He liked the way that Wen Ruohan indulged him, the way that Lan Qiren’s bed in the Nightless Palace was even more comfortably textured than his treasured blanket back home, the way the design of the furniture and even plateware was, although in red and white, in the styles he liked most; he liked the way Wen Ruohan would add things as he figured out more of Lan Qiren’s preferences, beautiful paintings making their way onto his walls and fresh cut flowers beside his table. He liked the way Wen Ruohan remembered that he liked grilled foods over stewed ones, even years later, and how he didn’t serve him meat even when he ate it himself, although he made clear that it was available if Lan Qiren wished to try it; he liked how if there was something he didn’t like, it wasn’t served again.

Best of all, though, he liked how Wen Ruohan listened to him, even when he talked too long or on a subject that he (usually belatedly) realized other people would likely find boring. Not just nodding along, either, but actually paying attention enough to ask questions and interject comments, offering new perspectives on old subjects – how sometimes it seemed as though something Lan Qiren had said had sparked some new insight for Wen Ruohan, even though that seemed improbable. Wen Ruohan would sometimes interrupt their conversation to wave over a servant, ordering them to get this or that book related to their conversation, and if his memory for remembering exact citations was not as good as Lan Qiren’s then the vastness of the library available at his fingertips more than made up for it. Their conversation flowed easily and well, despite their age difference; it was helped along by Wen Ruohan’s charm, that mask Lan Qiren had noticed with Lao Nie, but it was easy enough to ignore the dangerous aura that lingered behind the façade when Lan Qiren felt certain that he, at least, would not be the target of that danger.

It felt – easy.

That was the strangest part, really. Lan Qiren was the son of a Great Sect, privileged even among the privileged; he had never lacked for food or drink or even knowledge. And yet it felt as if he had been struggling alone up the side of a mountain, the burdens forced onto his shoulders weighing him down; even if he had been able to manage it just fine, the fact that there was now someone walking alongside him, sharing it with him, supporting him, made it feel so much easier. He felt safe, he felt secure. He felt happy.

He felt –

Well, he felt a little guilty for thinking it, but he felt as though he finally had a brother.

Lan Qiren had always been a little skeptical of the description of brothers in all the tales he’d heard, the idea of an elder brother caring for and guiding the younger one utterly foreign to him; he tried to emulate the younger siblings, who idolized and loved their elders with a passion that rivaled that which they shared with their lovers, carrying within them a bond that would never be broken, but he knew in his heart that he could not do so in truth. Lan Qiren did idolize his brother, who was perfect in nearly every way except that he didn’t much like Lan Qiren, yet that deficiency was enough to make it difficult to like him back; Lan Qiren could love him better in theory than he could in practice.

With Wen Ruohan, it was different.

Lan Qiren wasn’t quite sure it was exactly like being a brother, either – for one thing, all the attention made him feel strangely shy, made his heart beat too fast and his stomach feel tense, and it wasn’t anything at all like the cheerful and casual camaraderie he shared with his nicer cousins like Lan Yueheng or even with someone he thought might be a friend, like Lao Nie – but whatever it was, he knew that he liked it.

He liked it enough to try to be flexible on some of his own relatively strict standards: to agree to try some local specialties that Wen Ruohan especially wished to share, to take the time to help Wen Ruohan with matters relating to his sect when there was no objection, to make an effort to stay up later than his usual bedtime in order to complete a conversation.

He even allowed Wen Ruohan to buy him things he would normally have rejected out of hand – for example, Wen Ruohan seemed to have a particular fascination for selecting clothing, which Lan Qiren didn’t understand in the slightest, but after having been so indulged, it seemed like it was the least he could do to return the favor.

“I really don’t know the difference between the two cuts,” he confessed, frowning down at the sketches presented by the tailor. “It seems – fairly minimal?”

“They are for completely different body types, Master Lan, and flatter the body in very different ways,” the tailor told him. “What appear to be small choices, such as whether to wear wide sleeves or tight gauntlets, robes or trousers, the style of the shoulders, the cut and angle of the collar, can make the difference between a cold demeanor and a warm one, a mature man and a childish one, a passionate earthy beauty and a icy fairy who stands above the earth.”

Lan Qiren nodded gamely, happy to concede the point – he had always enjoyed hearing other people expound about their interests, even if he didn’t share them, and it was clear the tailor enjoyed his work – but felt obliged to add, “Even if that’s true, how can I know which one I prefer? Anyway, I really don’t need any more clothing…”

“You should have several options in each style already ready-made for sect disciples, do you not?” Wen Ruohan asked the tailor, cutting Lan Qiren off, just as he had the last few times Lan Qiren had tried to suggest that he didn’t actually need to be bought more things. Competitive, as Cangse Sanren had said, only she’d forgotten to add stubborn! “Bring out a few and let him try them.”

“I don’t think –”

“That’s the best way to see what fits best,” the tailor agreed, nodding. “I’ll bring them at once, Sect Leader.”

“But –”

Lan Qiren gave up his clearly futile protests, reminded himself that he’d decided to make an effort to cooperate, and followed the tailor to another room to change his clothing. It felt strange and almost inappropriate, putting on the colors of another sect – at least the base color was still white, which was comforting, but the vivid reds, entirely dissimilar from the usual cool blue accents of the Lan sect, were certainly unlike anything he’d ever worn before.

And the style itself was very different, too. Both sects preferred tight sleeves, but the Wen sect didn’t add an overlay with wide sleeves the way the Lan sect did, and they had a sharp cut at the shoulders and collars that the Lan sect disfavored. Lan Qiren’s usual pick of clothing was even more simple – less layered, fewer cuts – than most in his sect, and the Wen sect outfit, though far from excessive, was almost flamboyant by his standards.

“It fits surprisingly well,” he remarked to the tailor, who smiled vacuously. “I’m lucky that you happened to have something so close to my size at hand.”

“You are very lucky, Lan-er-gongzi,” the tailor said, and although his face was blurred in the copper mirror, Lan Qiren briefly thought he almost looked nervous. “Please wait where you are, there’s one more thing I think would be a perfect fit.”

Lan Qiren nodded absently, looking down at his sleeves and tugging on them even though they fit just right. Truly it was a marvel, he thought to himself; most of his clothing was tailored for him personally, painstakingly made in the Lan sect style with embroidered arrays woven into the clothing, and yet some of those had fit less well than this…

He started in shock when he unexpectedly felt hands fall onto his head, loosening his crown, but when he looked up, ready to scold the tailor for his presumptuousness in daring to touch another man’s hair without permission, he saw Wen Ruohan standing behind him instead, a faint smile on his face.

Lan Qiren’s complaint froze in his throat.

Wen Ruohan, at least, did not violate the prohibition against touching another person’s forehead ribbon, avoiding it entirely as he skillfully wove out the guan Lan Qiren was wearing and replaced it with another in his own preferred style – silver instead of gold, and with a string of pearls that were woven into his hair and a single one that fell down to rest between his brows, just above his forehead ribbon.

That complete, Wen Ruohan put his hands on Lan Qiren’s shoulders and studied him in the mirror, his red eyes intent and thoughtful as he surveyed his handiwork.

“Very good,” he said, and his voice was thick with satisfaction.

Lan Qiren swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry for no reason he could explain.

“I knew pearls would suit you,” Wen Ruohan added, and Lan Qiren shook his head. “No? I think they do.”

“The rules –”

“Allow no more than three adornments on your waist, which this is not,” Wen Ruohan said smoothly. “And the rule against adorned beads and chains with bells is targeted at adornments that make unnecessary noise. You would not deny a member of your sect the right to wear a Jiang sect bell with its tongue removed, would you?”

“The Jiang sect only give their clarity bells to those who are in their sect, related by blood, or plan to marry in,” Lan Qiren objected, although he realized a moment later that he was quibbling over nonsense instead of getting to the key point. “I don’t need anything like this. It’s far too much.”

Wen Ruohan didn’t say anything; he only smiled.

“I should change back,” Lan Qiren said, uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.”

“We wouldn’t want that, no,” Wen Ruohan murmured, and Lan Qiren quickly gathered up his clothing and retreated from the room. It was only when he had mostly changed that he realized that he hadn’t taken his original guan back from Wen Ruohan. Without much choice – going with his hair down would be far more inappropriate than being over-dressed – he left the pearls in place.

“You’re doing this just to embarrass me,” he accused Wen Ruohan as they returned to the Sun Palace.

“Perhaps,” Wen Ruohan hummed. “Who’s to say what my motives may be?”

“You! You can say!” Lan Qiren huffed, but he supposed this, too, was part of being brothers. “You’ll give me a new copy of our oath, right? Don’t forget again.”

“It’ll be in your quarters by evening,” Wen Ruohan promised, looking amused, and in the end he did better than that, a servant delivering the message while Lan Qiren was still putting away the odds and ends Wen Ruohan had bought for him during the day.

It occurred to Lan Qiren later that the move might have been calculated – he’d promptly forgotten anything else in favor of looking over the terms, which to his relief were mostly the classic ones, the elder guiding the younger, the younger obeying the elder, dire consequences for betraying their oath and bond, the usual.

There was an additional clause about loyalty and fidelity that seemed a little over-emphatic, almost as if it’d been cribbed from some marriage vow or subordinate’s oath – he supposed Wen Ruohan would have more reason to be paranoid about betrayal than most – and one about good faith and patience and education, which he suspected might have been his drunken self’s attempt to accommodate Wen Ruohan’s complaints about his excess enthusiasm, though he supposed it could alternatively be interpreted as an obligation for each of them to explain themselves to each other. Or maybe it was an obligation for Lan Qiren to educate other people at Wen Ruohan’s request - perhaps to step up and teach his sons one day? It was really very unclear, but then, such oaths usually were.

Alcohol was clearly prohibited for a reason, he thought to himself, and then shook his head, at this point more amused by it than anything else.

He only noticed that he was still wearing the stupid over-fancy guan when he started to head out to start the afternoon routine he had already started to turn into a habit: a walk through the gardens, physical training with the sword, and then musical training to conclude shortly before dinner, which he would share with Wen Ruohan, followed by another walk, this time in his sworn brother’s company. The routine gave him the time he needed to devote to his responsibilities as a cultivator, as well as some blissful time to himself; Wen Ruohan, he presumed, used the time for much the same purposes.

Lan Qiren scowled at his reflection in the tranquil lakewater in one of the garden pools, torn between wanting to go back to change the thing out – it would be ridiculous to expect him to do his usual training wearing something that probably cost more than his yearly allowance – and the knowledge that if he did so, he would have to miss out on some part of his routine, which he hated to do. Yet if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have another opportunity to remove it until after dinner…

“Lan-er-gongzi?”

Lan Qiren turned, surprised: it was Madame Wen, who he had not seen since his arrival. He raised his hands in salute, but to his surprise she waved it off. “Lan-er-gongzi,” she said. “Could I ask you for a favor?”

“Of course,” he said, and felt a frisson of fear when she put her hand on her belly. Surely it couldn’t have to do with…?

“Could you find my husband and ask him to visit the doctors?” she asked, biting her lower lip. “The servants can be indiscreet, and I don’t think I can go myself…”

“I’ll tell him at once,” Lan Qiren assured her, now truly alarmed by the implicit suggestion. “Do you know where he is?”

“At this time in the afternoon?” she said vaguely. “Oh, I’m not quite sure…probably in the third palace.”

She nodded towards one of the buildings, a little distant from the Sun Palace but not far.

Lan Qiren nodded. “Do you need anything – somewhere to sit, or…?”

Madame Wen shook her head. “I’ll go sit down. Don’t concern yourself for me.”

Lan Qiren nodded a second time – sitting seemed like a good idea – and headed towards the third palace at a brisk pace. As much as he usually hated breaking his afternoon routine, any risk to human life would always take preeminent status.

It occurred to him as he approached it that he hadn’t been to the third palace before, despite the tours he’d been on, although he supposed that it wasn’t so surprising, with him having only been there a week. The Wen sect’s domain, like its city, was vast and sprawling, teeming with people and buildings alike; it would take many visits, he expected, before he would learn it all. Still, Wen Ruohan had promised him the freedom to wander where he willed, and no one stopped him as he headed into the palace, seeking his sworn brother through the usual signs of his presence: the overwhelming concentration of qi, and the usual disarray of guards and servants that invariably had to rearrange themselves to account for the presence of their sect leader.

He found him, too.

Wen Ruohan was smiling the same smile he had given Lan Qiren earlier that day, full of satisfaction and pleasure and amusement, a bowl of wine dangling between his fingers as he leaned back in his seat, his entire posture suggesting that he was enjoying himself as he watched a good show – only what was in front of him was terror and blood and bile, men and women strapped to horrific devices as they screamed and bled and begged for mercy that they would not receive.

Lan Qiren must have made a sound, though he did not realize it, because Wen Ruohan turned to look at him, his eyebrows arching in surprise. “What are you doing in the Fire Palace, little Lan…?”

The Fire Palace, Lan Qiren thought, feeling strangely numb. Yes, that sounded right.

He’d heard all the rumors about it: how Wen Ruohan was violent and bloodthirsty, how he craved power and control, that he enjoyed torturing his enemies unmercifully until even death was a blessing.

He’d heard.

He’d just…disregarded it. Thought it was false, perhaps, or maybe he’d just lied to himself and pretended that because Wen Ruohan was kind to him that he was kind to everyone else.

“Who sent you here, little Lan?” Wen Ruohan asked, his brows coming together in a frown. “Tell me.”

He wasn’t happy. Of course he wasn’t; Lan Qiren wasn’t supposed to be here – he hadn’t been taken to this place, probably purposefully, and he was a creature of habit and routine, which he rarely if ever broke without warning. If he hadn’t feared for Madame Wen’s life, he would never have gone himself, much less in such a rush.

Madame Wen…she must have known what he would find here.

She’d known.

He should have known.

“Little Lan?”

An elder brother was meant to guide and educate the younger. Was this what he was supposed to let Wen Ruohan guide him towards?

“…Lan Qiren?”

Lan Qiren flinched violently at the sound of his name, but it spurred him into motion – he staggered back a few steps, unable to get his bearings for a moment, and then he grabbed blindly at some terrible-looking sharp objects lying on a nearby table waiting for their turn to be used. A flick of his wrist sent them into the throats of the victims, ending their suffering in a gout of blood, and then he turned on his heel and fled, tearing off the too-expensive guan as he did, the pearls falling on the ground behind him.

“Lan Qiren!”

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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vs-redemption · 4 years ago

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hii! i swear i read your request rules but i’m still worried this doesn’t follow them. anyway i figured i’d ask and you can obviously decline ahahah. i just read Gray and it’s so well written and makes my heart shiver and i wanted to ask if you’d write a part 2 or a one shot/scenario of having levi as a soulmate in the same eye color soulmate au as Gray? thank you !! :) (^･ｪ･^)

From Cindy: I apologize for taking so long to get to this! It took me a while to get an idea I liked, and then I had trouble getting into the mindset to write it. Inspiration finally struck though, and this is the result! I hope you like it!

Soulmates (Levi x GN!Reader)

Based on the same AU as Gray (Levi x Gn!Reader)

⚠️angst and hints of sex work (Levi’s Mom)⚠️

Levi loved safety

Being born in an extremely run down and sketchy part of the city was one of the worst fates a person could experience. Ever since Levi could remember, he’d been burdened with warnings from his mother who had learned most lessons about living amongst the dregs of society the hard way. He never stepped a foot outside their tiny one room home without hearing her voice expressing concerns about who he talked to, which streets he went down, how late he stayed out, and which shops he visited. There was danger everywhere and no one to protect him.

“Levi, stay close to me,” the woman would say to him when he was younger. Even going out in the middle of the day was a risk for them because his mother had a reputation. In order to feed him and keep the roof over his head, she’d reduced herself to a line of work that garnered an uncomfortable amount of negative attention. In a world ruled by the existence of soul mates, everything about their lifestyle was wrong and all it took was seeing a woman with duel colored eyes and a child for someone to know she’d committed the biggest taboo.

At first, Levi didn’t understand why anything about his mother’s appearance would cause such a stir. He’d seen plenty of people with two colored eyes, including himself. As he got older though, his curiosity grew and one day he made the mistake of asking about his father. The pained look on his mother’s face filled him with regret immediately, but he sat and listened to her intently as she explained the ways of their harsh reality.

“Your eyes are a promise,” she’d told him as delicately as possible. “A promise not to share yourself with anyone until you meet the person who you are destined to find and be with forever.” Levi had been filled with sadness for his mother when she admitted to breaking her promise. It was clear that she’d only committed such a disapproved act out of absolute necessity. People were judgmental though and could only see the fact that Levi’s father had not been the woman’s soulmate, which is why her eyes remained mismatched.

“You can still find them,” Levi had tried to hold on to a glimmer of hope for her, but she just smiled sadly and shook her head. The likeliness was low at her age, and even if they happened to cross paths, her past and status as a single mother would drive any respectable person away.

Levi loved stability

After learning about and coming to terms with the truth of this mother’s situation, Levi became determined to help her out in any way possible. He didn’t want the woman sacrificing herself for him any longer. And once he got older, he begged her to start staying home while he did what he could to provide for them both.

“It’s not your job to take care of me, Levi.” She’d smiled at this thoughtfulness while cupping his cheek in her delicate hand. “Everything I’ve done will have been worth it as long as you can have a better life than me.”

He understood her sentiment, but was too stubborn to give up. It was hard to find honest work in a town full of desperation and poverty, but Levi did his best. He took odd jobs here and there, and tried not to get mixed up in any of the bad business that ran rampant in the area. The money he earned wasn’t nearly enough to cover the cost of his small home though. After a handful of threats from the landlord to toss them out on the street, Levi knew he had to do more.

Levi loved familiarity

Resorting to petty theft went against everything Levi’s mother had taught him, and he knew it would probably break her heart if she ever found out. Still, he couldn’t allow their home to be taken away, or worse, his mother to return to the work she’d done before.

He had to be smart though. Being caught stealing in his neighborhood could get him killed. Going into the nicer parts of the city would be a better bet. He didn’t know the area as well, of course, but there was the benefit that he wouldn’t be recognized if anyone saw him. If he did happen to get caught by law enforcement, he’d end up in a jail cell rather than a cold ditch somewhere. Neither option was ideal, but stealing from the rich would have to do until a better plan presented itself.

Things went decently for a while, and Levi was a quick learner. He figured out what worked and what didn’t without having too many close calls. He made sure only to take enough to get by since the thought of being too similar to the criminals he’d grown up around made him sick to his stomach. It was only a matter of time though before his luck ran out. Rumors of a pickpocket spread and people began to act more cautiously about carrying their valuables out in the open, forcing Levi to get more reckless with his stunts.

It was on a particularly frustrating day that Levi caught a glimpse of you. More accurately, he caught a glimpse of the leather purse filled with coins hanging from your hip as you chatted away with a friend outside a popular confectionary. With practiced movements, he slipped into the crowd and made his way in your direction, thinking that snatching up the money would be simple and easy. He’d made a mistake though. Your pouch wasn’t tied up like he was used to, but secured with a metal ring designed specifically to prevent the very act he was trying to pull.

You begin to turn around as soon as you feel the tug on your belt and Levi freezes for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of the situation. One word from you and everyone in the vicinity would be on him. As soon as your duel colored eyes met his however, something happened that put all other thoughts out of both of your minds. Levi watched in shock as you blinked once, twice, and then suddenly your left eye changed color completely to match your right. The look of initial alarm on you face softened and Levi knew he had to get out of there. He turned on his heel, ducked his head down, and walked away as quickly and as naturally as his legs would allow. He waited for any sign that he was being pursued for a moment or two and then broke into a run.

Levi loved certainty

In his panic, Levi didn’t even greet his mother as he rushed past her once arriving at home. His heart was pounding and a light sweat covered his forehead uncomfortably. He went straight to the bathroom to stand in front of the cracked mirror above the sink. It took a few seconds to muster up the courage to look into his reflection and find that everything that had happened was real. The two colored eyes that he was so used to were gone.

“Levi, sweetie, are you all right?” his mother appeared in the doorway, looking scared. “Did something happen at work? You’re not usually home this early!” He turns to look at the woman who notices his matching eyes immediately. Her hands come up to her mouth which spreads into a smile and tears spring into her eyes. “Congratulations! Who is it?”

The question makes Levi feel ill. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he’d meet his soulmate while trying to rob them. And if his mother found out, she’d be so disappointed.

“It doesn’t matter,” He tells her stiffly. “I can’t be with them.”

The words were far from enough to satisfy his mother though, and she nagged him the rest of the evening with questions about what you looked like and where he’d saw you. He kept his lips sealed until he’d had enough of the interrogation.

“Please, my obligation is to you and nobody else,” he tells his mother. “I don’t know anything about this person. Not only do I have no interest in being with them, I’m certain they have no interest in being with me either.”

“Levi, this is all I’ve ever wanted for you,” his mother begs, taking his hands into her own. “Do not live your life feeling empty and alone. Take this chance and find your happiness.”

Levi shakes his head, refusing to even consider it. His only focus had been himself and his mother for so long that it seemed ridiculous to add a third person into the mix now. It was better to pretend he’d never met you, and he imagined you would feel the same way. How disgusted did you feel knowing your soulmate was the infamous pickpocket? It would be even worse once you found out where he lived and about his mother. Surely you were both better off without each other.

Levi hated the thought of a life without you

Despite his resolution to continue on with life as normal, it only took a few days before Levi caved and went back to the spot where he’d encountered you. The image of your face had never once left his mind, and there was an incessant need to see you again that he could not ignore. He thought perhaps one more look couldn’t hurt, and he had to go back anyway if he wanted to collect enough money to pay his landlord that month.

“I hoped you’d come back.”

Levi had been sure you wouldn’t recognize him after only getting that small glimpse, but apparently fate had engrained his face into your memory as well. He whirled around, his gaze immediately locking with yours. It was wild to see the familiar color of your eyes looking back at him. He had no idea why you’d be here looking for the person that tried to steal from you. The cautious smile on your face as you introduced yourself put him on edge as well. “What’s your name?”

“Levi.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but part of him already felt an attachment to you. What was more, hearing your name for the first time felt like a fire had ben lit inside of him. He shakes his head to get his mind straightened out. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“No!” the panic in your features makes him falter, “Please stay. Can’t we talk for a moment?”

“I’m sorry,” Levi backs away, trying to fight off the instincts rising up inside of him. He didn’t want you to be sad and he didn’t want to disappoint you. He knew though that it was inevitable that he would.

“Levi…”

Hearing his own name spill from your lips was enough to have him second guessing everything. Would he really be able to go the rest of his life without hearing it again? He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to stay away. He’d already come crawling back once already after all. As a last resort, he knew what he had to do. He had to tell you everything. And he did. He revealed his entire life story to you without hardly pausing to take a breath, knowing that every detail would drive your further and further away. Having so soulmate at all was much better than having a soulmate like him.

By the time he finished talking, tears had welled up in his eyes as well. His mother had told him to take the chance for happiness, but instead he’d violently thrown it away. A few seconds passed and suddenly you were slipping your hand into his. It was the wrong reaction to the story but he can’t help but tighten his grip around yours anyway, wanting the comforting feeling you brought to last forever.

“I’m so sorry you and your mother have had to fight so hard just to survive,” you tell him softly. “But you won’t have to live that way any longer, or at least, I want to join the fight with you.” The genuine kindness and determination in your voice was overwhelming for Levi. Somehow he knew you meant every word, and the image of a brighter future for all three of you began to take shape in his mind. He had no idea if such a future was actually possible, but with you at his side he knew he’d definitely be willing to try. Being born in the roughest and seediest part of town had to be one of the worst fates a person could experience. Levi knew that first hand. He also knew he wouldn’t trade that fate for the world if it meant having you as a soulmate.

#Levi x Reader #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #Levi Acerkman #aot #snk #Soulmate AU #Cindy's Writing

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sneezefiction · 4 years ago

Text

attention

Miya Osamu x Reader

desc: you’re spending too much time fawning over a very fictional captain Levi and not enough time doting on your real boyfriend, Osamu.

a/n: @starrysamu dearest remy, this is for you. i only just found out that it’s your birthday and i felt like i needed to show my appreciation for you in a tangible way. this isn’t the best, but i laughed a lot while writing it, so i hope it’ll make you smile. so much love to you and happiest of birthdays!! you’re such a joy to speak with <33

warnings: mentions attack on titan (fictional deaths), language, suggestive towards the end

wc: 1.5k

---

“I bet you haven’t moved in hours.”

“Mm,” you hum absentmindedly.

Osamu stays silent for a moment, squinting judgmentally at you from the corner of the living room. He’s been standing there for ten minutes and you’ve not so much as acknowledged his existence. Granted, you already spent the entire morning with him, but you could at least greet him with your usual, “hey, babe.”

He’d even settle for a “what’s up, ugly” at this point.

However, your eyes are glued to the TV screen. Blue light and flashing colors reflect off of your skin while the blood-curdling screams of various animated characters fill the room. You gasp and a hand flies to your mouth. That’s the fourth time you’ve done that since he’d walked in the room.

Whatever it is you’re watching, your reaction seems reasonable. The show looks and sounds disgusting. Or at least to Osamu it does.

“You really should move around a little.” He coaxes, “You’re gonna cut off all your circulation.”

Osamu approaches the couch, but you continue to ignore him.

“Yeah, and?” you respond, eyes still fixed on the screen, “I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

You reach for the remote and turn up the volume a couple of notches. His brows furrow in contempt. Now, this is just plain rude.

“Well, if you lose a limb, don’t come cryin’ to me.” He says flatly.

“I won’t…” you start, “but-“

You point to the screen, singling out a few characters being hunted by hideous and… very naked titans. Gross, Osamu thinks.

“-they might.”

If you were known to watch shows for the plot, he wouldn’t mind your series marathons all that much. But he knows you too well.

Osamu flickers his gaze to the TV and steps in front of the screen, intentionally blocking your view. It’s an attempt to steal your attention away from all of these fictional characters you claim to keep “falling in love with.”

You whine and tell him to “get his ass out of the way,” while craning around his broad shoulders to see. It’d be a shame to miss out on Levi Ackerman’s hella sculpted jawline, even just for a second.

But your efforts are to no avail. ‘Samu (his ass included) refuses to move away from the screen.

You breathe out a white flag of a sigh, slumping back into the couch in defeat. Though you’d planned on this being a solo watch party, you know that the only way to get what you want out of this situation (Levi screen time) is by appeasing your actual boyfriend.

“Whatever ‘Samu. Just join me already.” You huff out.

Tossing open your blanket for him, you pat the empty space expectantly. If you’re going to give him any attention at all, he’s obligated to at least keep you warm.

And he won’t lie, you look very comfortable.

Seeing you cozied up in his apartment and lazily splayed out on his couch has always made him melt a little. Osamu is just a bit domestic like that.

But if you’re just going to use his Netflix account to fawn over fake (albeit incredibly sexy) men, then he’s less than thrilled to have you sitting there alone. Any good boyfriend would be at least a little agitated… right?

So for the sake of reining you and your wandering mind in, he decides to plop down next to you. The whole couch sinks when he sits and you tilt into him like a planet gravitating toward the sun. A really obnoxious, show-interrupting sun.

Osamu snakes an arm around your back, pulling you into his chest, and turns his head toward the TV. All is calm as you get comfortable and adjust yourself against him... until suddenly the screen splatters red. His arm tenses against your waist and a frown forms on his face. Apparently, something or someone just bit the dust.

“What exactly are ya watchin’?” He asks, tone drenched in disgust.

You whip your head toward him, an eyebrow cocked and lips parted. You’re looking at him as though he’d just gone and grown a third eye or called your mom a hoe. In terms of drama, Osamu is beginning to think you might actually rival Atsumu.

“You seriously don’t know?”

“Do I look like someone who keeps up with anime?”

“Well… no,” you admit slowly, “but that’s got nothing to do with you not knowing about Attack on Titan. I bet even Kita has heard of it.”

You wait for recognition to flicker in his grey eyes at the mention of the anime’s name. Instead, he gives you his signature blank stare. Should you be shocked or disappointed? Which emotion would bother him more?

“Yeah, it doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Have you been living under a rock?” You scoff, mouth still agape.

“No, but I basically live with you and that’s difficult enough.” He jests, poking you in the side.

His warm hands gives you a quick squeeze and you almost jump out of his hold. For someone who runs a restaurant, he’s got some well-toned arms. It’s unlikely you’ll be able to escape his grasp anytime soon.

“No! None of that shit!” You hiss as he tries to tickle you. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

Your back curls like a cat and you bat at his hands to abate any further pokes or prods. He only chuckles, smirking at your feeble attempts to stop him. You were the one provoking him in the first place, but he’ll let it slide just this once.

When Osamu no longer seems like a threat to your ticklish sides, you nestle back into him. Your hand rests lightly on his chest and your head finds a soft-ish spot on his shoulder.

Feigning a pout, you mutter, “Captain Levi wouldn’t treat me like this.”

He’s quick to respond.

“Well, Levi-” the name sounds uncharacteristically bitter as it leaves his lips, “-wouldn’t treat you like anything, sweetheart. Sorry, but he ain’t real.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Osamu beats you to it.

“And judging by the rate these people are dyin’, he probably won’t last long enough for you to even mentally date him.”

“Don’t underestimate me and my mental dating abilities, ‘Samu.” You warn, “Or Levi. He could totally beat your ass.”

With perfect timing, Levi makes an appearance, striking a lethal blow to another one of the babbling giants. Two giants. Now four of them. Okay, he might’ve spoken too soon.

“Mm… maybe. But he probably couldn’t put up with all of your bullshit. This Levi kid seems like a bit of a hardass,” Osamu responds after a few minutes of transfixed silence.

You jut your lip out, sinking further into the couch, “Crush my dreams, why don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes in response.

“But,” you continue, “you’ve gotta admit, he is attractive. I mean, just look at those eyes. That body, too…” you breathe.

You swoon and tease and clutch at your heart, but it’s all an act to get under ‘Samu’s skin. He is your number one, after all. Teasing is just a part of your relationship and you would try to milk it whenever you could.

However, you don’t get a verbal response from him this time. He just tightens his hold around you and buries his nose in your hair. Warm breath tickles your scalp and trails across your skin.

Is he pouting? Or is he finally watching the show without adding commentary to it? You can’t tell the difference.

Osamu stays like that for a moment and you revert your attention back to the screen, intent on catching the last couple minutes of this episode.

Though you hardly have a chance to re-invest yourself before Osamu is speaking again.

“Well, I’m just glad he’s behind a TV screen,” he sighs against your head, “and-”

A smirk works its way onto his lips and Osamu begins circling a thumb on your exposed thigh. Your breath hitches and you turn to face him. His fingers press against your skin and play at the hem of your shorts.

The warmth of his hand sinks deeply into you like poison. In a matter of seconds, you’re at a loss for words, rendered unfit for battle… even if that battle is just teasing the ever-living shit out of him.

Thoughts of the show, of Levi, of other fictional men, are long gone from your mind.

Damn him for still having this effect on you after all this time.

“-judging by the way you can’t keep your hands off of me-“

He glances at your hand, which is resting delicately on his abdomen. You’re pressed up tightly against him, tucked into his side and looking up at his face which seems dangerously close to your own. Then his eyes, heavy-lidded and a shade of grey far prettier than Levi’s, flicker down to your lips.

Your skin flushes hot and you grip the fabric of his shirt.

“-I’d say you’ve gotta be at least half as into me as you’re into general Levi or whatever the hell his name is,” Osamu murmurs, his breath fanning gently on your lips.

He leans in, planting a slow kiss at the corner of your mouth, effectively teasing the delicate skin.

With one calloused hand on your face and the other still stroking your thigh, you feel your mind going fuzzy. This was escalating much faster than you’d expected it to and you haven’t even had the chance to pause your show.

You glance over to the TV... and heaven seems to be shining down upon you. It’s the blessed Netflix “are you still watching” screen; your show is perfectly paused. Now you can focus on what’s right in front of you.

Osamu finally has your full, undivided attention. Just as he should.

“Just for the record, it’s captain Levi.” You whisper to him.

“Oh, shut up.” He says before crashing his lips into yours.

You do, in fact, shut up.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #osamu miya #osamu #hq #hq imagines #hq scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #inarizaki #miya twins #remy <3

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pedritobalmando · 3 years ago

Text

La valse à mille temps

Summary : Benny Miller isn’t just a customer, he is a complex combination you didn’t understand

Pairing : Benny Miller x f!reader

Warnings : everything here is vague because I am a lazy writer, but there are some references to PTSD and injuries

Word count : 2.3k

A/N : This is my first attempt to the writer wednesday, and I wanna thank @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape for giving us the opportunity to improve ourselves and be seen !

I haven’t written in a while, my english is bad, and I am so so sorry for this crappy ff. I hope you like my ideas though I am not a really good english writer. Maybe I should write in my maternal language before translating to make it make more sense, idk... You tell me please

{masterlist} {taglist}

The first time Benny Miller came to the drive-in, he was arm in arm with a gorgeous blond girl and asked for tickets for a horror movie. Typical, you thought. He might have been planning for her to get scared and to lean into him, a perfect plan you had seen in action too many times as you had been working there for quite some months now. You did not know him back then, and he just appeared to be like all of your other customers. Still, more handsome than average. At the exact moment your eyes landed on him, you felt weak, shy and hot at the same time. He was perfect, or at least he seemed to be. His hair was not too dark nor too bright, his eyes looked like a fantasy you could drown in and his smile, his fucking smile he never took off… This smile might have been the thing about him that disconcerted you the most, it never left your mind for 3 whole days before you came back to reality : he had been a customer just like the others, he would never come back, and even if he would, the fact that he was accompanied meant something. A guy like him could never be single. So you just forgot about him, and this little physical crush soon left your heart. Just another handsome customer.

The second time Benny Miller came to the drive-in, it was a month after his first visit, when he was long gone from your mind. But seeing him rekindled everything you had felt a month ago. Because of his smile, this fucking smile that never left him. As he took his tickets, you couldn’t help but notice how good he seemed to be with who you assumed was his girlfriend, as he had brought the same girl as last time. His hand never left her back even as he struggled to pay, and his smile widened as she put her head on his shoulder. You felt a strange hint of jealousy rising in your stomach, which you felt guilty of : as handsome as he was, you didn’t know the guy. Or maybe were you just jealous because you would have also liked to be this genuinely loved by such a gorgeous man ? This day, you heard her say his name : Benny. It turned around in your head for a whole week, along with his smile.

The third time Benny Miller came to the drive-in, he seemed different. Maybe because he indeed was. His lip was cut, and he wore a black eye. Even his cheekbone seemed darker. He didn’t seem too embarrassed or confined by it, though you perceived how is smile was crooked. Anyway, even his girlfriend didn’t look worried about this. So you just let it go, wondering how he’d look the newt time you’d see him.

And that didn’t happen for quite some time as the fourth time Benny Miller came to the drive-in was 2 months then. The first thing you noticed was the girl at his arm. Not the one you used to see him with. Jealousy directly rose in your stomach once again, wondering what he had been up to and imagining how you could have been this new girl.

“Two tickets for Dirty Dancing, please.” Ah, he had changed t strategy, no more going for horror but romance. You gave him his tickets, and never looking back, he left to regain his car.

You saw him only five days after that when he came to the drive-in for the fifth time. You didn’t recognize the girl he was with, and when he asked for 2 tickets for Dirty Dancing, you frowned. “Again ?” You had always had trouble thinking before speaking, liked to think you were a passionate girl and were directed by your instinct. Or maybe were you just dumb.

Benny’s mouth was half opened, surely by surprised. He had come here to see a movie, not get judged. Especially not in front of the girl he was hoping to go back home with tonight. “What ? What does she mean, again ?” Her face was turned to Benny, and the poor truly seemed concerned. You had just made a mistake, and you felt bad about it. As genuine was your crush on this Benny you did not know a thing about except for his name and the movies he came to see, you ddin’t want to put him in awkward situations even though they could result in him being ditch by some girl you wish you were.

“Huh ? Uh, no, no sorry !” Quick, think of something, anything. “I just… You look familiar. But, you know, I see so many faces every night, I get lost. Yeah, yeah that’s it.”

But it didn’t appear as if the girl trusted your last words. You gulped, gave them their tickets, and quickly said goodbye. “Good viewing !”

And if you thought it would be all for the night, and that you’d be cleared until a week or two depending on how well it would have been with that new girl he brought, oh boy you were so wrong. You had just cleaned and close everything and took your bike, ready to leave, when you were caught by surprise by a deep male voice that burned your cheeks. “You ruined my shot tonight.” Your heart skipped a beat as you did not need even just a second to recognize Benny’s voice. He’d been waiting for you, and just to tell you this ? Guess he was a bitter person.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to presume anything, I just… I don’t know, you usually never come to see the same movie twice.” You shrugged and felt the urge to flee, but your legs couldn’t move one bit. Might have been the attraction he was crashing on you, fucking telekinesis powers or whatever.

“You don’t have a car ?” This had nothing to do with the initial subject, but fuck you were glad he changed it. Your eyes fell on your bike and you crinkled your nose.

“I don’t have my license. Trying to save money working here.” You confessed. You did not have the chance to count on your parents money, and wanted to avoid loans as much as possible.

“You work in a drive-in and you can’t drive ?” He laughed.

“Well it’s a drive in and not a I drive you in.”

“Touché.” A few seconds of silence and he finally talked again. “How about I drive you home ?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. You didn’t know what took him to ask you that, was it sympathy or pity, but you didn’t want to bother him. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.” Maybe you just should have taken the opportunity, but as handsome as he looked, and as fast as your heart beat, he was still a stranger.

When Benny Miller came to the drive-in for the sixth time, you felt small. You were still embarrassed by the way you had made his new girl run away, and the fact that he had offered you a ride. But everything about you left your mind when you saw the estate in which he was. Once again, his lip was cut, he had a black eye, and his cheekbone was blue and swelled. But there was more. One of his ears was all red, he limped, and had a bandaged wrist. Benny Miller wasn’t just one of your customers, but you had really no idea who the fuck he was.

“Hey.” He sadly smiled, and you were too disturbed to answer him. “Four tickets for Braveheart, please.” Benny saw the way your eyes were stuck on his wounds, but he preferred not saying a thing about it. He wanted to wait for you to be too curious to finally ask what the fuck was going on with him, even though he wasn’t even sure that day would come. And you didn’t say a word, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it either. Benny Miller was nothing but a complex combination you didn’t understand.

The seventh time he came to the drive-in, he was with a blond guy that looked much like him, and looked way more excited than when he was with any other person. He looked cute, you thought when he greeted you and asked you tickets for a war movie. “On the house.” You found yourself saying without thinking, as he handed you cash. You pinched your lips as soon as the words fell from your mouth, heat rising in your cheeks. The other man chuckled, winked at you and grabbed Benny by the arm before going back to the car. You left a sigh fall when they got out of view, mentally noting to take these two tickets out of your paycheck.

Later that night, when the checkout was closed and you were doing a tour to check if everything was going well, you figured it wasn’t. Benny Miller was sat in a corner, far away from the screen, alone, and his breathe made you frown. It was going unusually quick, and sometimes muffled.

“Hey.” You approached him, unsure about what to say or even how to say it. If he was feeling bad, you didn’t want to worsen things. “Something’s wrong ?”

He lifted his head, and that’s when you noticed the tears that had drown his cheeks. Despite the pain you felt in front of such a scene, you liked the idea that he didn’t feel obliged to hide his suffer. He was crying, and he didn’t care that you could see that. “T’s’okay, thank you.” He murmured, and you felt even more pain from his side.

You decided to sit beside him, he would ask you to go away anyway if that was what he needed. “I know, this movie sucks.”

He laughed, and finally a small hint of joy rose in your stomach. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

“Wanna talk about it ?”

“Not that much, no.”

You hummed in response, wondering what had happened for him to feel this bad, but said nothing more. In fact, you two stayed there, sitting beside one another, in pure silence, until the blond tall guy he came with finally arrived. He took his hand, lifted him, and after a simple “thank you”, he was gone.

The eighth time Benny Miller came to the drive-in, you had just closed it, key still on the lock of the checkout when he greeted you and you screamed by surprise. “You’re a little late, Benny.”

“I never told you my name.” He cocked one of his brows.

You just shrugged. “Heard it from some girl you came here with. Why you here ?”

“Reflex !” He laughed when throwing you something.

It’s only when you catch it that you discovered it was keys. Car keys ? “Okay, and…?”

“We’re going for a ride. You’re driving.”

“I told you I don’t have my license.” Or did he want you both killed ?

“I’ll teach you. We stay here, in the parking lot, and I show you some things. You in ?”

“Fuck yeah I’m in !” You laughed. You didn’t know how he had figured you hated riding that stupid bike, maybe a hint of deception in your eyes when you had first confessed to him you couldn’t drive, or a stroke of luck.

The ninth time Benny came to the drive-in, he showed up a few before closing time and seemed a little out of himself. Limper, weaker, and full of wounds. Again. He talked with you about small nothings until it was time to close, and offered his help. You tried to say no, but gave in when he insisted : you didn’t really want him to go, so as he pleased.

That was the time when Benny Miller went from stranger to friend. In his tiredness, you thought, he had started to confess a little too much things. His past in the army, how he knew he wasn’t stable but couldn’t do anything about it though he had tried, the nightmares that could never leave his fucking brain, the sounds of shooting and view of blood, the heart he put in MMA as he thought violence was the only answer, or how getting punched felt like a revenge from life for all the bad he had done under orders, how he deserved physical pain just as much as mental one, his brother who helped others in need when he could not even help himself, his friend Pope who could never seem to stop as if doing so would stop putting a meaning to his life, his friend Frankie that he loved to death but was afraid of becoming in the future, all those girls he flirted with because he was too scared to be alone and have no one to support him. You listened to every word he had to say, proud of the trust in you he had and stressed by all those feelings he put on your shoulders. Benny Miller was more than just a customer.

The tenth time Benny Miller came to the drive-in never happened, because he never came. He was gone, leaving you with just memories of him and bribes of conversation that went wild in your head. Maybe he had never been real, maybe was he just a ghost that you crossed path with. Maybe as he so scared of his own person that he didn’t want you to feel responsible for who he was, after everything he told you. Or maybe he thought that after knowing the truth you would never want to see him again. Oh how wrong he was. Because Benny Miller was not just a customer. And that was why the tenth time he didn’t come to the drive-in would be the first time you would come to one of his fights. Because this wasn’t over, because Benny Miller wasn’t just Benny Miller.

#Benny millre x reader #benny miller x f!reader #benny miller #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund x reader #garrett hedlund x f!reader #writer wednesday #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier x f!reader #bm

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