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jikookiekosmos · 4 years ago

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When I Dream of You || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, husband!jungkook/reader

➥Summary: Jungkook always imagined being with you was like a dream come true, and after years of pining he can finally say it’s all he could have ever hoped for and more. But what happens now when Jungkook’s dreams about you no longer have a happy ending?

➥Genre: established relationship, (somewhat?) heavy angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~6.2k (little much for a drabble i know, sorry)

➥Content warnings: story mostly told from jungkook’s POV, jungkook has a nightmare, feelings of insecurity and anxiety, mentions of harassment (not much), yoongi to the rescue (seriously he’s the voice of reason i love him), making out, grinding, slight hair pulling, riding on top, reader is in control (and jk is happy about it), unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex), cumming inside, cute times in the shower, jungkook is actually the sweetest, reader and jk are so in love with each other it hurts, also jk saying ‘only for you’ is a thing i started and can’t stop now oops

A/N: hello! This is part of my Only for You (OFY) Drabble series, but it can be read as a stand-alone! Their relationship will make a lot more sense though if you’ve read OFY beforehand. This fic takes place roughly around a year after the events of OFY. (I also mentioned this in the post for OFY but for those who haven’t read it, the Kun in the story isn’t referring to any other irl person specifically, it was just a name I chose to make the initial story easier to write.)

As always, thank you to @dntaewithluv for being so supportive of me and motivating me to keep writing when there are times I feel like I shouldn’t. And for also being my beta-reader and just generally an amazing person, one of the best friends I could ever ask for.

I’ve written a few other drabbles and will list them below, along with a general timeline:

Use My Best Colors For Your Portrait - ~6 months after OFY

Stay With Me - a few months after this dream drabble

I know this is the most angsty thing I’ve written so far (update: Stay With Me now holds this title), but I got attached to these characters and wanted to tell more of their story so here we are. I basically wrote this all in one sitting because I’ve had this idea in my head for a little while and I was excited to get it out. I hope that if you read this, you enjoy it~

➥OFY Spotify Playlist (songs I listened to for inspo)

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Jungkook was dreaming again.

It was a dream he’d had many times now, and it always started the same way. He watched as you appeared in the doorway of the chapel, ready to make your trek down the aisle.

You looked dazzling in your dress, and through the thin veil that covered your face, Jungkook could see the brilliant smile you wore, which caused him to break out into one of his own. Each step that brought you closer to him made his heart race faster, and it didn’t take long for you to finally be in front of him.

Well…somewhat in front of him.

He could only watch as at the last second, you turned slightly and were now standing in front of Kun, the man you were originally meant to marry. Jungkook’s stomach twisted with fear as he observed Kun lift your veil over your head and take your hands in his as you both stared into each other’s eyes. You, looking at Kun with all the love in the world, because that’s just how you were. And Kun, looking back at you, with a sinister expression that made Jungkook feel dizzy.

He opened his mouth to object, to speak, to do something but no sound would come out. Everyone around him that had gathered to see you get married were either oblivious to Jungkook’s obvious distress, or they just didn’t care.

They weren’t here for him, after all. They were here for you, in the same way that he was here for you, too.

When his legs could finally move without crumpling underneath him, he walked over to stand next to you and Kun as he tried to reach out to you. He couldn’t touch you, though, because it was like there was an invisible wall in between the two of you now. A wall he could still see through but couldn’t reach past. He moved back at the realization, only to be met with something similar hitting his back.

Jungkook whirled around and was met with the same thing, now surrounding him on all sides, trapping him inside some sort of box. A box where he could still see what was happening but couldn’t stop it despite what he did. He felt suffocated.

He was shouting from inside his new prison, banging on the walls, trying to make any sort of sound that would reach you. And he knew you couldn’t hear him; you didn’t spare even one glance his way. But he still had to try. The longer he let this go on, the greater the chance of losing you grew to be.

And the possibility of that, of losing you in any capacity, was something he couldn’t bear to even think about.

Jungkook could hear everything coming from your mouth. The cheerfulness in your voice was usually something he loved to hear under any given circumstance. But in this case, it was threatening to tear him apart. He listened dismally as the two of you started reciting your vows to each other.

And his heart started to break when he heard the words from the letter he’d tried to give you all those years ago. Tears were forming in his vision as he listened to Kun rattle off the words he’d written for you. Words he never got to claim as his own until much later, when it was almost too late.

He could feel his heart shatter at the sight of the breathtaking smile on your face as you two finished your vows, moving now to kiss each other and seal the deal.

He tried once more to call out to you, but any sound he could’ve possibly made would’ve been immediately drowned out by the cheering from everyone around you.

His legs gave out as he knelt down to the floor, helplessly staring at you as you linked your arm with Kun’s to walk back down the aisle as a newly married couple. It took the last bit of his strength to look up as you passed, and you didn’t notice him.

But Kun did.

Kun paused in front of Jungkook, still separated by that invisible wall, and he grinned. It was the kind of grin you’d expect from someone who’s sole purpose in life was to sabotage others’ happiness. Which, ironically enough, is exactly what Kun was now known for.

All Jungkook could do was look on while you left the chapel, followed by the many guests who had gathered for the ceremony. Only when everyone was gone was he able to move about freely, but he opted to remain seated on the floor there instead as the chapel slowly started to fill with darkness once the doors closed.

Jungkook awoke with a start, bolting upright and inhaling a sharp intake of air. He was covered in sweat that dampened his hair and made it stick to his forehead. His breathing was shallow, and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was.

He was at home, in his bed. It was nighttime and sleeping next to him was a figure who’d remained undisturbed by his sudden movement.

He cautiously looked over at your sleeping form. You were turned on your side, facing away from him, breathing peacefully. His eyes softened at the sight and he could feel his heartbeat start to slow down into a pace much less frantic.

He pushed his hair out of his face as he took a deep breath. He knew he should probably wake you, especially since you always told him to do so whenever he had nightmares. Lately, he hadn’t been having any bad dreams, so it had been a while since he last had to rouse you from your slumber.

He reached an arm out, only for it to gently fall by his side. He hated waking you unless it was really important, because he knew you sometimes had trouble sleeping, and this included falling back asleep if something made you wake up during the middle of the night. You’d been especially exhausted lately, what with the new exciting event that had suddenly happened in both of your lives.

Well, exciting wasn’t really the right word. Terrifying fit way better.

After managing to avoid Kun for over an entire year, he somehow turned up at your new place of employment one day, surprising you and frightening you all at the same time. He told the staff at the front desk that he was an ‘old friend, here to congratulate you on your new position.’ And they believed it, so they let him come up to your office unsupervised.

Let’s just say when Jungkook heard about that little ordeal, he was not pleased at all.

Ever since then, Kun had been borderline harassing you, even sometimes going as far as to try and talk to Jungkook during his shifts at the bar. That lasted for all of maybe 2 encounters before Kun found himself banned and unable to return.

You both thought he was out of your life for good after the break-up, but he was proving to be much more of a plague than you or Jungkook initially imagined. So yes, these recent events had maybe been causing Jungkook to have intrusive thoughts once again that translated themselves into the one recurring nightmare he used to have shortly after the two of you got together.

The nightmare of him losing you. You obviously didn’t end up marrying Kun, but you came a lot closer to it than Jungkook liked. And that wasn’t because he’d been pining after you for years; he could’ve dealt with that, if it ended with you being happy. It was more so the reason that your relationship with Kun hadn’t seemed genuine on his end, and Jungkook wanted better for you than that.

Sometimes he wondered if he was the right one to give you what you deserved.

He shook his head to keep more thoughts from seeping in, but he knew sitting here alone in the dark wouldn’t help with that for long. He glanced at the time on his phone. It was 2:08 A.M., so not too late, but most people were usually sleeping at that time.

Nonetheless, Jungkook pulled back the covers and swung his feet over the side of the bed to stand up. He moved as gently as possibly to not risk waking you, but on his way to the bathroom he had to pass by your side of the bed.

Your sleeping face was free of worry, and your lips were slightly parted as you were breathing softly. The sight made Jungkook’s heart thump. He couldn’t help himself when he leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead.

If you woke up, he’d just tell you he had to use the restroom and try to coax you back to sleep. You looked too cute for him not to kiss you, though, so he deduced it was worth the risk.

He padded off to the bathroom then, only wearing a pair of gym shorts. Every step he took was calculated so he didn’t make much noise, and when he finally made it to the bathroom, he closed the door as quietly as possible, listening to the faint click before he leaned against the sink.

He sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for. After dialing the number, he put the phone to his ear, and within 2 rings someone picked up.

“Kook? You ok?”

Jungkook smiled. “Yeah, Yoongs, I’m ok. Just needed to talk to someone, that’s all.”

He heard shuffling from the end of the line and he felt a small pang of guilt at the fact that he may have woken his friend up. But then again, it was Yoongi, and he wasn’t a stranger to being up at this hour.

Yoongi hummed. “Y/N not awake then, huh?”

Jungkook shook his head, despite Yoongi not being able to see him. Yoongi took his silence as confirmation.

“Hm, well you do know I love talking to you, but I am wondering why this time of night?”

Jungkook sighed. Better to get it over with than beat around the bush. “I had a nightmare.”

“Oh no,” he could hear the somberness of Yoongi’s tone. “Is it the same one, or…”

“Same one,” Jungkook answered without hesitation.

“Kook, we’ve been over this-”

“I know,” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “I know. Trust me, I don’t want to keep having this happen either.”

“Can you think of anything that may have triggered it?”

Jungkook tongued his cheek then. The more he thought about it, the only thing he could see as being a potential trigger for these dreams to come flooding back would be Kun’s unwanted reappearance.

While he was still thinking, Yoongi continued.

“Do you think it has anything to do with that asshole showing up again?”

Jungkook smirked. He knew how much disdain Yoongi had for Kun, and for good reason.

“Yeah, it’s exactly that, I’m almost positive.”

It sounded like Yoongi was moving again and Jungkook could just picture him now, sitting up and shaking his head in disappointment, not at Jungkook, but at the situation.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna level with you.”

Jungkook gulped.

“I honestly have no idea why you’re letting someone like that affect you. He’s not worth your time, he’s not worth Y/N’s time, not worth anyone’s time if you ask me. Letting him continue to have this kind of effect on you isn’t healthy.”

Jungkook sighed again, his breath coming out somewhat shaky. “I know, it’s just…it’s hard. It’s really hard, Yoongs. I can’t help but think of how close I came to losing her and fuck it hurts every time I think about it.”

“First of all, you wouldn’t have lost her, and you know that-”

“Yeah but seeing him is a reminder that I came close.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi’s tone was stern now, and Jungkook immediately stopped talking.

Yoongi took a deep breath. “Like I was saying, you wouldn’t have lost her. You mean too much to her and she means too much to you for either of you to have let that happen. Give her a little more credit, yeah?”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s lips curved upwards into a smile. He knows you’d never allow anything to take you away from him, outside of maybe some things beyond both of your control. But you certainly would never let someone come in between the friendship you both shared.

A friendship that had developed over several years and had now blossomed into a beautiful, loving partnership.

There it was again: you. Anytime Jungkook thought about you, it always made him happy. He was so in love with you and had been for so many years, so it was sometimes still surreal to him that you two were together now. Your smiling face was all he needed to get him through some days.

But right now the vision of you playing out in his head was the sight of you the night he found you in your house kneeling on the floor after Kun broke your marriage off. You looked so utterly broken, and Jungkook made a promise to himself then and there that he’d do anything in his power to make it so you never felt that way again.

“Kook? You still with me there?”

Yoongi’s voice roused Jungkook out of his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. You know I worry about you, kid.”

Jungkook smiled. “I know.”

“This is the first time you’ve had this dream in a while, right?”

Jungkook leaned against the sink again, looking at the tiled floor underneath his feet. “Yeah, it’s been months.”

“Then I want you to do something for me, ok?”

Confused, but intrigued, Jungkook shook his head. “Yeah, sure.”

“I want you to take a look at your left hand.”

Jungkook did as he was told, splaying his fingers out in front of him.

“Now tell me what you see?”

Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at his gold wedding band as it glistened faintly in the light of the room.

“My wedding ring,” he answered softly.

“Exactly. Your wedding ring. It belongs to you. And it means you’re the one who’s married to her. Not him, not anyone else, but you.”

Jungkook could see exactly where Yoongi was going with this, and the thought made him almost tear up. Yoongi knew exactly what to say and when to say it whenever Jungkook needed reassurance about something, and this was one of those times.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna tell you this, and it’s something I want you to remember. Y/N loves you. She loves you so much. My God, sometimes it’s hard to look at you two because you’re always so lovey dovey like-”

Jungkook laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

He could imagine Yoongi smiling on the other end. “Good. I think as long as you remember that, you’ll be ok. It’d probably still help to talk to her, though. You know how upset she’d be if she knew you were suffering in silence about your dreams again.”

Jungkook shakily inhaled, his grip on the sink behind him tightening. “I know. I’ll talk to her, probably in the morning since she’s still asleep-”

Jungkook cut himself off when he heard the soft sound of you calling his name. “Yoongs, I gotta go, thank you for answering and for everything else.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Anytime. Night, Kook.”

Jungkook hung up the phone and peered from behind the bathroom door. He saw you sitting up in the bed now, rubbing your eyes before you stretched. He was so fond of you, the sight made his heart swell.

He also noticed how the t-shirt you were wearing had ridden up some during your stretch and he could see the exposed skin of your thighs now now. He even thought that something as simple as you wearing a t-shirt was breathtaking. And when it was one of his t-shirts, like it was now – on some days it was enough to drive him crazy.

Now wasn’t the time for that though. He watched lovingly as you focused your eyes on him and smiled. He wasted no time getting back in the bed with you, seated with one leg crossed under him, his hand coming down to rest on top of your own.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a lazy kiss. Jungkook melted into the kiss when you deepened it, because after everything he just went through, any touch from you now was igniting all his feelings for you.

All of them, which is why he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours.

“Hey,” he said with a smile, nuzzling his nose against yours before pulling away to look at you. He could tell you were still sleepy, but you wouldn’t attempt to go back to sleep without talking first. Especially since he knew you could tell something might be off.

Your brows furrowed. “Koo? What’s wrong?”

Jungkook took a deep breath, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I had another nightmare.”

The immediate look of concern on your face made his heart lurch, and not in a pleasant way. “Baby, what happened?”

He brought up your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles, right above your ring.

“I had that nightmare. You know the one…”

You frowned. “Jungkook-”

“But it’s ok, really. I talked to Yoongi and I feel a little better.” He was looking anywhere but your face now, so you placed a hand under his chin, tilting it up so he’d look at you.

“You know you can always wake me up and talk to me.” You brushed your thumb across one of his cheekbones and he sighed into the touch.

“I know. You’ve been having trouble sleeping lately so I-”

“You also know that if I have trouble sleeping, usually cuddling with you helps. So please don’t use that as an excuse.”

Jungkook felt guilty again because he knew you were right. Before he came along, sleeping wasn’t always easy for you, but in the comfort of his arms, you found slumber much faster these days.

You took Jungkook’s face in both of your hands, your own chest twisting with pain at the sight of him. His big, doe-like eyes were shining with so much emotion, and all you wanted to do was take away all his worries.

“Do you know why you had that dream again?”

Jungkook nodded, absentmindedly brushing his thumb along your thigh. “Everything that’s happened with Kun lately, it- I don’t know, it just bothers me. It bothers me way more than it should. And I guess it just made me think again about- well, you know.”

Jungkook’s head hung then, and you leaned down so you could look into his eyes once more. He brought his head up to keep you from having to lean uncomfortably like that for too long.

“Koo,” you brushed a piece of his long, dark curly locks out of his face. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I know that things happened in the past that we can’t erase or change, but what we can do is focus on our future. Our future that we’re building together.”

He started to smile at your words, his heart lurching again now, but in a good way this time. Every time you told him you were in love with him, he felt like he could conquer the world.

“So please don’t worry about what almost happened or what could’ve been, because what matters is we’re here now. We’re here together. And I don’t plan on going anywhere,” you placed a quick peck on his lips, “Unless you want me to, that is.”

Jungkook quickly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you so you were straddling his lap, making you giggle as you tried to steady yourself. His hands rested comfortably against your waist and you placed yours on his shoulders. He looked up at you now with so much love and adoration.

“Never. I’m not planning on ever letting you go,” he accentuated his words with his grip around you by wrapping his arms more tightly around your waist to pull you closer to his chest. “Not until the day you decide you don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Well I don’t see that ever happening, so I guess we have nothing to worry about then, do we?” You booped his nose and he grinned, placing a hand on the back of your head to bring your lips down to meet his once more. The kiss was soft, yet passionate.

And it quickly turned into something more.

You deepened the kiss and Jungkook groaned into it, kissing you back now with a fervor that had you unconsciously moving your hips against him. He broke the kiss to lean his head back against the headboard, eyes shut and mouth parted.

“Fuck,” Jungkook panted. “I’m so fucking in love with you, Y/N. And right now,” he opened his eyes to stare at you again, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

His hand snaked underneath your t-shirt to brush at the skin he found there, pulling your head back down for another kiss.

“I want to show you how much I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “Will you let me?”

The sound of his voice shot straight to your core, and you were nodding before he could even finish his question. He chuckled against your lips before he started trailing them down your neck.

“Need to hear you say it, baby,” he spoke as his lips ghosted over your throat, his hold on you tightening.

“Please,” you breathed out, pulling at his dark tresses and making him grunt. “Please, Koo. I want you to make love to me.”

That was all he needed. Jungkook started placing kisses along your neck and down to your collarbone that was exposed from the collar of his shirt, his fists clenching around the material at the bottom of it.

“I love you,” he kept saying in between kisses. “Gonna take care of you.”

He started tugging your shirt up and you met him halfway, ridding yourself of the garment fast enough that it made him chuckle at your eagerness. He started peppering kisses all over your chest, kneading at your breasts, rolling your nipples in between your fingers and making your hips move faster.

You could feel him growing harder underneath you through the thin fabric of the shorts he was still wearing, so you sped up your movements, making him moan.

“These need to come off, don’t you think, baby?” You tugged at his shorts. Another moan came from Jungkook as he nodded, helping you move up so he could shimmy out of his shorts. He still didn’t think he could ever get used to that pet name coming from you, and he thought it was the sexiest thing ever when it fell from your lips.

Of course, Jungkook thought nearly everything you did was sexy. That was just the effect you had on him. Everything intimate was intense in the best way possible, and if this was what being in love felt like, he never wanted to stop being in love with you.

He loved you. He needed you. He wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. And he’d never felt this way about anyone else for.

He felt all of these things for you. Only for you.

Jungkook was pulled out of his thoughts of how much he loved you by the feeling of you grinding down onto him again, this time the only barrier of clothing between the two of you being your own panties.

Yeah, Jungkook wasn’t having that.

He made quick work of removing your soaked panties, laughing again at your enthusiastic impatience. He loved seeing that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

“Be careful, angel,” He cooed at you as you tried to steady yourself on his lap once more. He rubbed his hands up and down your thighs while you huffed, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Just wanna feel you already,” you said breathily, and the sound of your voice mixed with the words that fell from your mouth made him twitch. He knew he probably wouldn’t last long inside of you, and with the way you were already worked up, he figured you might not either.

But tonight wasn’t one of those nights where he planned on going for hours anyway (even though you both definitely could at times and boy did he love it when that happened). No, tonight was about him proving to you how much he loved you, telling you through his words and soft caresses and the way he took care of you.

And you did the same for him. Jungkook had never had anyone care about him before the way that you do. He knew you’d do anything to ensure his happiness, the same as he would for you.

And that’s also why he thought you were destined to be together. And he hoped he would never fuck that up, that anything would ever fuck that up.

Jungkook heard you whine from your place in his lap, still grinding against him to find some much-needed friction. You felt so good on top of him that he let himself enjoy it for a few moments, soft moans escaping his lips as he watched you through half-lidded eyes. You leaned down to give him another kiss, and in the same movement, he picked you up by your thighs under your ass and placed you back down where his tip was at your entrance.

He grunted against your lips as he felt you sink down onto him, waiting for you to accommodate to the stretch as you’d done many times before. You always told him you could handle it and sometimes you wanted him to be a little rougher with you from the get-go. Jungkook wasn’t at that level where he was comfortable with that yet.

But one day, he thought, especially with how good you feel around him, he just might be.

When he was finally completely inside of you, he waited just enjoying the feel of your warmth around his length. He brushed some hair out of your face, noticing how your eyes were glinting in the faint light of the room.

God, he could never get enough of staring into your eyes. He’d happily get lost in them over and over again.

Now, though, they were starting to close as you picked yourself only to drop down again a moment later. The action caused Jungkook to let out a throaty moan, eyes fluttering closed at the motion.

Hm. That was new.

Usually, Jungkook would guide you with his hands on your hips, and it wasn’t that he didn’t let you have control, it was more that you never really wanted to take control. So, seeing you decide to do it now was exciting and something he’d gladly let happen if that’s what you wanted.

To be sure though, he placed his hands on your waist. You placed yours on top of his and shook your head.

“Let me take the lead,” you said as you pushed his chest to where he was lying down more. “You can keep your hands here, but I want to do the work.”

Jungkook frowned, only because he knew you still had to be tired. “Angel, are you sure? I can help- fuck.”

You cut him off as you clenched around him before you started moving again, his hands constricting around your waist. You placed your hands firmly on your chest to help you get more leverage as you continued moving.

As you sped up, Jungkook leaned his head back into the pillow he was lying on, eyes screwed shut and the prettiest sounds falling from his lips. You watched as the muscles in his neck strained with the movement, and that alone made you want to mark him up.

But now wasn’t the time for that.

Jungkook managed to open his eyes and look at you riding him, the sight making him twitch inside of you. He thought you looked so beautiful like this, and you taking the lead was so hot to him, he knew he’d definitely not last long if you kept this up-

“Do you know,” you broke off to moan as his cock hit a spot inside of you that made your breath hitch, “do you know why I wanted to take control tonight?”

Jungkook swallowed and shook his head, rubbing his hands along your waist.

You smiled at him lovingly, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your lips before linking your fingers. The action made his heart soar.

“It’s because you always take such good care of me. I want to take care of you in that same way,” you squeezed his hand, letting your words wash over him.

“But you do take care of me,” he started to say, only to be interrupted by the feeling of your walls clenching around him again.

“I know. But tonight, I want to show you I know how to take care of you in this way, too. I want to show you how much I love you.” You leaned down, hitting a new angle that had both of you moaning as you brushed your lips against his. “Will you let me?”

Jungkook felt himself getting closer as you repeated his words from earlier. He nodded vigorously, kissing you with so much passion that you thought you might topple over. You sat up straight again and started moving faster, now pulling out as much as possible before dropping back down.

Jungkook’s high was approaching fast because of the combination of you taking control, the way you were riding him, and your words. He was feeling so many things at once and he tried to will himself to not let go.

He didn’t want to let go yet, not until you were there with him.

To help you along, he reached down in between both of you and started rubbing your clit, relishing in the feel of you around him as you stuttered in your movements. He smirked, knowing that even when you were in control, he still had an effect on you the same way you did him.

“Come on, angel, I’m right there, I want you to cum with me.” Jungkook’s voice was husky now, the pleasure threatening to overtake him any second. He bit his lip as he stared at you, watching as your head lolled forward on your neck and you started shaking from the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

“I’m almost there, Koo, I love you so much,” your sounds were increasing in pitch and becoming more frequent, so he knew you were close. All that was left now was for you to reach your high together.

He took your hand that was still intertwined with his and placed a kiss on the inside of your wrist. “I love you, too,” he said softly.

His response was enough to finally provoke your orgasm, it being so powerful that you fell forward on top of him. As you did, you were clenching so tight around him that his release wasn’t far behind. He grunted as he placed his head in the crook of your neck, filling you up, the familiar sensation of warmth making you shiver in his hold.

Both of you were trying to catch your breath, you now completely laying on his chest and his arms snaked around you. He placed a kiss on top of your head and you both just laid there for a few moments.

Jungkook was the one to break the silence. “Well, that was certainly something.”

You giggled. “Yeah, I enjoyed that, Don’t know why I haven’t done that before.” You felt his chest rumble with laughter underneath you.

“Me neither, but you can absolutely do it more often. I know I won’t be opposed.”

“Deal,” you said as you leaned up to place a kiss on his nose. “But only under one condition.”

“Oh?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, intrigued at your proposition.

“You,” you said as you traced patterns on his chest, “need to stop being so cautious with me.”

A tiny frown etched itself onto his features. “Angel-”

“I mean it, Jungkook. I’m not some fragile thing that’s going to break anytime you stick your dick in me.” He couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from him, immediately apologizing afterwards because he knew you were being serious.

“I know you’re not, I just- I never want to hurt you.”

“And I’d let you know if you did. So promise me you’ll at least try to treat me a little less like I’m gonna break under your touch?”

He ran his fingers through your hair as you laid your head on his chest again. “I promise to try. I don’t just do it for you, though.”

You brought your head back up to look at him, quirking your own eyebrow. “Oh? What do you mean?”

He chuckled darkly, his stare alone making you throb. “I also do it so I can maintain some self-control.”

You laughed. “What’s so bad about losing control?”

He smirked. “Nothing, I guess. We’ll have to see though, won’t we?”

The suggestion made you tingle with desire, but you were unfortunately too tired to go again, so you figured it’d be best to leave it alone for the night. Jungkook finally pulled out of you, making you let out a small whine at the loss. Before you could say anything, he picked you up and carried you with him to the shower, as he did most nights when you two shared these intimate moments.

In the shower, he helped you clean off, and as he was washing your hair, you stared up at him, seeing his dark locks falling into his face with the weight of the water that drenched them. His lips were parted and his tongue was slightly sticking out as he concentrated on making sure he lathered every inch of your hair with shampoo. He looked so adorable like this that you couldn’t help but giggle.

You ran your hands along his chest now to help him wash off the soap, and your ring caught the light, glimmering faintly. Jungkook picked up your hand and turned it this way and that to watch the ring shine from different angles, before he linked your fingers together.

“I told you I’d get you a better one, didn’t I?” You rolled your eyes in amusement at the cocky smirk that tugged at his lips.

“You didn’t just tell me, you promised me.” You continued washing all the suds off of him as he wrapped his arms around you to bring you closer.

“And did I follow through on my promise?”

You pretended to think about it for a second, making Jungkook tickle you under the shower’s waterfall. “Ok! Ok! Yes, you did,” you said as you laughed. “You always follow through on your promises.”

“I try,” was his soft response. He nudged your cheek with his nose, which is something he did when he wanted a kiss, a habit you were very quick to pick up on in the early stages of your relationship. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood up on your tiptoes, placing a gentle kiss on his lips that had him letting out a small sound of contentment.

“I love you. And I’m in love with you. Nothing, nor anyone, will change that.” You reassured him as you pushed his hair out of his face. Any doubts he still had you wanted to erase them all.

You wanted him to know that you loved him with everything you had.

He smiled, brushing his nose against yours. “I know. And I love you more than anything. All the love I have to give is for you.” He placed another soft kiss on your lips before he pulled back to quietly add, “Only for you.”

Those three words meant so much to you, and every time you heard him say them it made you fall for him even more, if that was possible. The two of you continued to hold each other and exchange lazy kisses until the water turned too cold to bear. After drying off, you both snuggled back into bed, with you falling asleep almost instantly, feeling safe in Jungkook’s arms.

He kissed the back of your neck and wrapped his arms around you securely, resting his forehead against your shoulder as you both laid on your sides. Your soft breathing let him know you were already asleep and he smiled, elated that he could provide you the comfort you needed to help you fall into peaceful slumber once more.

When Jungkook inevitably followed behind you, he was met with nothing but pleasant dreams, and all of them were about you.

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #ofy drabble

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too-attached-to-fiction · 4 years ago

Text

Cough Syrup | d.m.

Masterlist here

Buy me a coffee?

Word Count: 1150

TW: panic attack, non-descript mentions of death, minor character deaths mentioned, angsty fluff, one singular cuss word,

Summary: you have a bad day. McGonagall sends Draco to comfort you.

A/N: I came up with this the other night and this is definitely not beta’d but it exists! it’s been a while since I wrote an imagine but I wanted draco/reader and this is what came out. Things have been not great on my end mentally and I just wanted someone to comfort me

~~~

Being a favorite of Professor McGonagall’s had its perks. You’d held that position since fifth year, when you’d defended her from a particularly nasty comment that Umbridge had made. You were one of the few Slytherins that had not joined the Inquisitorial Squad, and one of the few friends of Draco Malfoy that he did not consider below him.

This year was your eighth year at Hogwarts. The Carrows had gone after you, even though you were a half blood, primarily because you spent a good half of your seventh year defying them. Your aunt and uncle had begged you to stop, but the war was too important. You wanted to be remembered as someone who fought for others.

Unfortunately, that was a decision that would later bite you in the ass. Your aunt and uncle didn’t have time to run before the death eaters cast Avada Kedavra.

Today was the day of their death anniversary. You slipped into your usual seat in McGonagall’s classroom, close to the front but far enough to disassociate during the lecture, and maybe even the activity itself. You barely paid attention to the stream of students coming in.

This class was mostly eighth years, with Gryffindor and Slytherin mixed. Because of this, the class was smaller than most, giving McGonagall the opportunity to observe her students more closely. Everyone was a survivor of the war in some way, and everyone had been affected differently. The Golden Trio kept their heads low, as did Draco Malfoy. He no longer went after Potter and had shrunk into himself upon returning for his eighth year at Hogwarts. Parkinson, Zabini and Nott remained by his side, though they made sure not to follow him as often.

You had once been friends with the four of them during your younger years. While you didn’t talk or write over the summer, you always managed to make time during the school year. However, as you grew up, the more you realized that you were too different. They’d started parroting more and more of their parents’ prejudices after the Triwizard Tournament. You had enough after Malfoy had made a joke about Cedric.

After the year started, you’d catch yourself looking at Draco during meals and his rare appearances in the Slytherin common room. He looked so sad and downtrodden, but the amount of pain Death Eaters had caused him was the same as everybody else. You thought about reaching out all the time, but kept your mouth shut. It was easier that way.

You stared blankly ahead as McGonagall started the lecture. When she finally opened things up to practice, she noticed your blank stare and made her way over to you.

“(L/N), your presence has been requested by Madam Pomfrey.” McGonagall said quietly. You nodded mutely. You hadn’t even taken your wand out of your bag.

“Thank you, professor.” You said, recognizing the statement for what it was and rushing out of the classroom. She watched you go before drawing her lips thinly.

She worried about your entire class often, but the main focus of McGonagall’s sympathy was for the Slytherins who hadn’t been on the dark side. You were the ones who watched their closest friends turn their backs on the school over the years. Some of you had lost friends long before you had lost family members.

“Malfoy,” McGonagall said in the same low tone as before, stopping by the desk he shared with Nott. “Please see to it that (L/N) does not do anything rash. I believe they’re headed for the common room.”

Draco nodded, unsure of why she’d asked him of all people. Parkinson was probably better equipped to deal with you. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he grabbed his own bag and left.

It didn’t take long for him to spot you disappearing behind the entrance to the Slytherin common room. He followed, trying to keep a certain distance between the two of you so not to scare you off.

He’d initially worried that you would go into your dormitory, but it actually didn’t take long to find you in the common room. Your (H/C) hid your face as you tucked your knees to your chest in the corner, sobbing quietly.

As Draco stepped closer, he heard you mumble the same phrase over and over. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” You rasped as sobs ripped through you. “I’m sorry, Merlin, I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say anything when he finally sat near you. Draco had only seen you in this state once, when you’d gotten in trouble with Snape in your third year. You weren’t the anxious type, but everyone had their limits.

You felt someone come near, but you were so stuck in your head that you couldn’t be bothered to look up. You gasped for air, swallowing it in between sobs. Your whole body shook with each sob.

Carefully, Draco reached out. “(Y/N)?” He asked softly. “Can you breathe for me?”

He squeezed your hand. “In,” He directed, holding your hand tightly. “Hold… Out.”

Draco repeated the three words until your sobs slowed, your breath becoming less shaky. “That’s good, keep going,” He encouraged. “In…”

He tried to run through the checklist he’d used back in third year. He waved his wand, bringing a glass of water and a box of tissues over to the two of you.

“Here, drink.” Draco said, handing you the glass. Your free hand held the glass as you drank slowly and continued to sniffle. When the glass was empty, he put it on the ground next to you, and handed the box of tissues to your free hand.

Draco’s hand never left yours as your breathing calmed down. You blew your nose, sniffling after you were done. He shifted closer to you, his shoulder touching yours.

“Draco?” Your voice sounded so weak, so small. “Why are you here?”

“McGonagall asked me to watch over you during the rest of class. Honestly, I wasn’t focusing much either.”

“I thought you didn’t care about me anymore.” You looked up at him. Your eyes and nose were red. He avoided your stare as he answered.

“I never stopped. I knew why you pulled away from us, but if anything, I thought it was safer for everybody if I didn’t chase after you. I regret that decision.”

“You could have just walked to your dorm and pretended you did talk to me.”

There was a pause. “I’m trying to be a better person.”

You nodded. “I’m proud of you.”

“Can you forgive me for being an utter prat?”

“I think so,” You whispered, your eyes lowering to your intertwined fingers.

Things weren’t fixed. They were far from perfect. You’d heal together, you knew that. It’d be a long process. But as you looked at the boy beside you, you could only expect things to look up from here.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagines #harry potter imagines #hp x reader #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #not beta'd #didn't have the time or patience

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years ago

Text

Through My Eyes

Draco X Hufflepuff!Scamander!Reader

Request: @cat-moon: draco malfoy x scamander reader

A/n: Okay y’all time to get serious for a moment. Newt Scamander is on the ASD spectrum, and it is hereditary, and therefore so is his granddaughter. But it is not just because it is hereditary that I am creating her this way, but also because life on the ASD spectrum is quite remarkable and it really is a different world experienced, being there myself. Autistic women show the signs in much different ways than males do because of a thing called masking and social behavior that is expected of women in society. I wrote a paper on it after getting my own diagnosis so, I know a bit from research and experience. Our reader is still as lovely as ever and nothing written is done from malicious intent nor ignorance. I am alright with writing her this way because I have the authority to, otherwise I wouldn’t dare to. I love you all so much and i’d love to know your thoughts!

“You’re not supposed to be here,” My voice was soft.

“I can be wherever I bloody well please,” Draco muttered slinging his bag down onto the chair.

“No,” I pressed. “You’re supposed to be in study hall. Only Ms. Pince and I are in here during this hour. You’re not supposed to be here,”

“Don’t get so bent out,” He scoffed. “I thought you Hufflepuffs were supposed to be friendly.”

“You don’t know anything about the world around you,” I murmured, closing my book, and tucking it into my bag. I held my tongue before snapping at him to not return tomorrow.

I stormed out of the library, thrumming my fingers on the strap of my bag, humming a comforting melody. It calmed my senses so that I could plan my next move. One option was going to my dorm, but I’d get there only having to turn back to go to class again. I could go to class early and continue to work, but I didn’t want to be asked questions about why I was early. There was only twenty minutes until my next class. Then it occurred to me, I wouldn’t be in a classroom for my next class, instead outside with Hagrid. A smile touched my lips as I stopped in the hall and changed my direction heading to the outdoors and toward Hagrid’s Hut.

Letting my fingers run through the soft grass that rose to about my waist, I strolled through the grounds, going the long way to Hagrid’s, humming all the while.

“Well, you’re ‘ere early,” Hagrid grinned. I nodded in response, my eyes flitting to the page that he had opened in our old textbook as he continued to speak. “Well, just so ‘appens that we takin’ a page from your granfather’s book ‘ere.”

“Hippogriff,” I read from the page. “Do you really have one here!?”

“She’s ou’ back, ‘ome on. Meet Buckbeak,” Hagrid led me outside the hut and sure enough there was the fantastic beast, preening her feathers. “Now you just gotta... well yeah,”

He stopped trying to instruct me as I bowed to the creature, waiting for her to bow in return. When she did, with slow and precise movements, I made me way toward her, stretching out my hand, not breaking eye contact. The hippogriff followed the fluttering of my fingers as I drew near until she was entranced enough that she allowed me to stroke her muzzle.

“She ‘eally likes you,” Hagrid exclaimed. “You sure are your granfather’s kid,” I paid him no mind as I caressed the beast’s head as she nuzzled into my hand.

I backed away, Buckbeak chittering annoyed as I parted from her. I signaled for her to be quiet and she lowered her head and complied. The class slowly arrived, and Luna took her place by my side, saying a soft hello but not much else. I liked Luna. She was like me. A bit different but she knew about the world around us. It was a comfort to not be alone.

It was the next few days that I was called into Professor Sprouts office. When she saw the panic on my face, she smiled and assured me that I was not in trouble and apologized for ruining my schedule. I took a seat at a chair in front of her desk.

I jumped when the door opened behind us.

“What’s she doing here?” I heard his voice.

“Professor!” I interjected.

“Enough,” Snape and Sprout said on cue. Sprout continued. “Miss Y/n, you are the best student that we have in Care for Mythical Creatures,”

“And My. Malfoy, you seem to be failing the subject,” Snape finished.

“The bloody chicken attacked me!” Draco argued back, standing abruptly.

“Hippogriff,” I corrected. “And her name is Buckbeak,”

“I really don’t give—”

“Mr. Malfoy!” Sprout scolded. “You should care because without the aid of Miss Y/n, you are going to fail the class, so I suggest you be nicer to her,”

“You want me to...” I glanced at her before looking down at my lap and tapping my fingers in an absentminded repetitive pattern.

“If you two are quite finished,” Snape sighed. “Miss Y/n, you have full authority on teaching Mr. Malfoy, and you are to assess his knowledge,”

“You mean she—no!” Draco shouted again.

“It is final. From Dumbledore himself,” Sprout glared Draco down, with such an affect that Draco took a seat, silently sulking.

We were dismissed and I paused in the doorway. Draco noticed and looked to me, expectant.

“Meet me at sunset outside Hagrid’s hut,” My eyes fixed on the Slytherin logo of his robe. “

Whatever,” He scoffed, taking off.

Oh, good lord, what was I just thrown into?

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

“This is ridiculous, I hope you know that” Draco hissed into my ear as I led him down to the outskirts of the forest, there Buckbeak waited for us.

I paid him no mind as I went to Buckbeak, bowing before her. She bowed and chittered happily to see me again, only pausing to puff her feathers at Draco in defense.

“He’s a friend,” I cooed softly, running my fingers over her silky feathers, close to burying my face in her heavenly soft feathers. “You know that don’t you?”

She chirped at me sulking. I beckoned Draco forward with my free hand.

“Bow,” I instructed. They both obliged. “See, was that so bad?” I smiled, keeping my eyes on Buckbeak but outstretching my hand to Draco.

When I felt the warmth of his hand in mine, I slowly pulled him forward, using my fingers to flutter his, to keep Buckbeak interested. My fingers brushed against her smooth beak and I pressed Draco’s hand against her beak, placing my hand over his. I could hear his anxious breathing as he drew near.

“She’s not going to hurt you,” I looked to him and smiled. “Again, anyway,”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” His voice shook with fear.

“Yes?” I let out a soft laugh. “She’s not dangerous, if you know how to approach her,”

He was a lot closer in proximity than I had originally thought. Buckbeak sensed my agitation and shook out her feathers. I cage her a kind look and she backed down. My hand slid down her neck, smoothing her ruffled feathers.

“You or Buckbeak?” I heard him mutter.

“Would you like to go for a ride Mr. Malfoy?” I looked over to him his silver eyes shining in the twilight.

“Are... are you sure that’s safe?” He gaped at me. Buckbeak shifted from foot to foot.

“Draco, she’s going to sense that you’re unsteady, if you want her to be calm you need to remain calm and trust her,” I instructed. “She’s not a dumb creature, she’s keenly smart with a range of sensitive emotions,”

“She’s a...” Draco started to insult but stopped with a chirp from Buckbeak. “Okay, sure. Intelligent creature,”

Buckbeak chittered a laugh, causing Draco to jump about a foot back, toward me.

“She’s just laughing at you Draco,” I soothed, finding his hand, and placing it back in Buckbeak’s shoulder, again pressing my hand over his.

“She’s laughing?” He dismayed. “That’s brilliant. I’m being laughed at by a beast,”

“Would you rather be laughed at by a girl?” I challenged, smiling. “Now come on, try to see the world you live in and let’s have a ride, then you can officially pass Care of Mythical Creatures,”

“And you’re sure there’s not some Niffler that I can—”

“Come on Draco,” Buckbeak bowed allowing me to climb up, holding my hand out to him. “Don’t you want to see what Potter saw?”

Something sparked in his eyes and he took my hand with fierce determination, settling behind me on Buckbeak’s back, his arms around my waist. Buckbeak chirped once more then stretched out her wings and took off.

Draco clung to me as we began to soar higher in the sky, and all I could do was laugh, feeling the rush of wind against my face and the feeling of freedom in my heart. There was nothing that could stop me when I was up here, in the clouds, just as the sun sank behind the hills with its final goodbye.

“This... this is incredible,” Draco breathed out, relaxing enough to declaw from me.

“There’s a lot of incredible things out there if you’re willing to let someone show you,” I noted, leaning back into him.

“About a world I don’t see?” He mused.

“Exactly,” Smiling I looked to the rising moon. “Your nose is so stuck in social behavior and hierarchies that you miss everything going on around you,”

“I can’t see them when I’m up here,” His candor was soft and intentional. “She truly is an amazing creature,”

“You should see a thunderbird,” I whispered, petting Buckbeak’s feathers gently. “My grandad took me to America once to see one. He was beautiful and the size of the astronomy tower. Flying over the desert... stretches of wilderness, and the never-ending horizon... the sunset colors...”

We were silent for a while as Buckbeak drifted back toward solid ground on the outskirts of the black lake. Draco hopped off and offered me his hand, aiding me in dismounting.

“You’ve been to America?” He asked thoughtfully as we walked along the castle grounds.

“I’ve been all over,” I smiled at the cobblestone under our feet. “I’m particularly fond of Greece, they have the best stories and creatures. Though they do have Sirens, so best be careful by the shores of Sicily.”

“You really like Mythical Creatures, don’t you?” The softness of his tone startled me.

“Yes,” my answer was gentle. “My grandfather knows so much... he’s been all over traveling, caring for them... learning. I just want to make him proud,”

“You got me on a Hippogriff. He should be plenty proud of you,” Draco nudged my shoulder as we walked.

“Thank you,” My cheeks flushed. “Also, consider yourself passing Care for Mythical Creatures,”

“Really? That’s it?” His shock caused my brow to furrow.

“Was that not enough? You only seemed opposed to Buckbeak and after tonight I don’t see an issue. Was I wrong somewhere else?”

“Uh, no. I just... tonight was nice. Seeing the world through your eyes... and I thought maybe...” Draco stumbled over his words.

“Maybe?” I prompted, butterflies fluttering in my chest, hopeful.

“I... never mind,” he sighed.

We stood at the top of the stairs, ready to part separate ways.

“Draco,” I called, and he turned to me a spark of something in his eyes. “...good night,”

He nodded and headed down the stairs as I ascended them wondering what went wrong between us.

The next few days weren’t out of the ordinary. I informed Sprout that Draco was just fine with caring for mythical creatures and all went back to normal. The old normal. But somehow that one night had caused a paradigm shift in me. I wanted the new normal. That had Draco in it.

Choosing the next best thing, I snuck out and made my way down to Hagrid’s to see Buckbeak when I heard a soft voice already coming from the back of the hut.

“I’m being stupid,” He muttered to Buckbeak. “This is stupid. I’m stupid,”

“Well, you are talking to a hippogriff,” I chimed in and Draco jumped about a foot back. Buckbeak bayed in agitation but after bowing to her she settled.

“What in the blazes are you doing here?” Draco hissed.

“Isn’t that my question for you?” I asked, stroking Buckbeak’s chin. “You’re normally a rule follower Mr. Malfoy,”

“Yeah well,” He toed the dirt and buried his fingers back in Buckbeak’s silvery feathers along we shoulder. “I missed her,”

Buckbeak nuzzles her head into my shoulder causing me to laugh.

“She missed you too,” I met his eyes, and though it only added onto the handful that I ever had, the silver in his blue eyes paralleled with the moonlight refracting off of Buckbeak’s feathers. My eyes quickly dropped as I worried my lip.

“Look, Y/n, you’re... and last night was...” Draco fumbled for his words.

“It’s okay,” My eyes didn’t waver from Buckbeak. “I know what you’re gonna say,” A small smile played at my lips.

“I don’t think you do,” Draco interrupted.

“I do know,” I refuted. “And I know I’m different. I know what others say about me. Even a few rumors from you. And it’s okay. It was one night.” Buckbeak thrummed a soft comfort as I stroked her muzzle. “I know I’m odd and I know I don’t belong,”

“Like I belong any more than you do,” Draco sighed. “The world you say you don’t belong in... the one that I’m trapped in. I don’t want to belong there. With their rules and expectations... I... I like it out here. I like it with you.”

I paused in my stroking of Buckbeak’s muzzle and peered at him.

“You see them? The rules? And you follow them?” I was deeply confused.

“Those rules keep me treading water. I would drown without them,” He sounded defeated

“It’s so... trivial.” I mused.

“And stupid,” a smile played at his lips before it fell.

“Maybe I misjudged you, Draco,” His eyes flashed to mine and I offered a smile. “Apparently, I know your mask very well... but if you want... I’d love to know who’s behind it,”

A smile dawned on his face. Like I had just given him the best news. The light in his eyes was undeniable happiness.

“You’re incredible,” He chuckled out, resting his hand over mine on Buckbeak.

And as it so happened, Buckbeak jostled, using her wing to shove Draco in my direction with such force that we both toppled to the ground. Neither of us were annoyed. Rather we laughed as I found myself pinned beneath Draco, staring at his grey eyes. My gaze quickly adverted.

“Hey,” He called softly, propping up on his elbows, still pinning me to the ground. “Look at me,”

“Draco,” I complained.

“Just look at me,” I heard the smile in his voice. I complied, meeting joy and comfort in those gossamer eyes. “Would you be mine?”

“Yes,”

masterlist

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hufflepuff series

the serpent beneath

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essayofthoughts · 3 years ago

Note

📕

Put “📓” or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I’ll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven’t written but daydream about.

From what I see of CR fandom there's ... well frankly, not a lot of thoughts about Cassandra de Rolo, which is a shame because she's fascinating, but there seem to be a few specific trends for her. Some people want to give her a chance to be awesome and adventure on her own, which fine, I kind of get but also I think after the five years she had she'd want to unwind and relax and be safe more than a lot of things. Even when dealing with anger and all (with Percy's help, given some of the Wrap Up comments) I don't think that's necessarily the route she'd go. The other trends I see for her are often specifically romantic - and there's two trends I see there. People who ship her with Kynan, due to some of the Wrap Up comments from Matt, and people who ship her with Kaylie for... I don't know what reason. Some combo of Lesbians and, from what I could tell "it'd piss off Percy and that'd be funny" which I don't necessarily believe and certainly do not find encouraging ship motivation.

Sufficeth to say, I do not find either of these particularly compelling.

I've written a small fic about Cass before (here) and one day I'd like to write something that builds on it. Specifically, I want to explore how she might interact with Desmond.

No, not the mapmaker, that's Tyriok.

No, not the person they saved outside of Westruun from the orcs.

No. No. No.

The carriageboy Percy maimed.

Yeah. Him.

See, there's a few things I think that have the potential to make that interesting. Firstly, we're told Desmond is around 18 - which is to say, older than Kynan, around the same age as Cass, and likely around the same age Percy was when the Briarwoods attacked.

(Percy's last words to Desmond before knocking him out, "I want you spend the rest of your life making up for what you allowed to happen", suddenly take on a whole load of other meaning when you consider that, imo.)

He's a Whitestone native, he's not an inherently bad person. Percy attempts to apologise once they return, but gets repeatedly spoken over because he pauses, presumably trying to find the right words to apologise ("I'm sorry I maimed you, I was not entirely myself and may have been under the influence of a demon but that's no excuse and I do not know that I can ever make amends to you for the wrong I have done you" is not an apology that's likely to fall easily from anyone's lips, let us be honest here). He does ultimately try to ensure Desmond gets a position of work - which he may otherwise struggle to find, given his maimed hand, and again, which it is only fair Percy attempt to rectify given his responsibility.

But ah, this is all Desmond and Percy, let me move on to Desmond and Cassandra.

They're of an age. They also both lived through the Briarwoods occupation in pretty close proximity to the Briarwoods - Cassandra as their prisoner and Desmond first as the carriageboy of one of their new nobles and then as their carriageboy. They've seen both the Briarwoods capability for kindness, for protective anger, and for their cruelty and brutality - including towards them. They murdered Cassandra's family; when she helped Percy escape they were shot at and she was shot down under their orders. They abandoned Desmond when Vox Machina attacked; on realising he was their prisoner they sent two invisible stalkers to kill him.

They also were twistedly parental to Cassandra and saved Desmond from Tylieri's treatment. These two undoubtedly have complicated, messy and often unclear thoughts and emotions regarding the Briarwoods. Desmond was offered a job as a courier between Whitestone and Emon but after Musician's Nostalgia he's never heard from again. He may have been killed during the Conclave's attack, if he was still in Emon - or he may have been sent off already. The wiki assumes he lives; we don't know for certain. But I like the idea he lives and I like this specific idea, so I run with the assumption he survived and either made his way to Whitestone or was part of the refugees VM evacuated to Whitestone.

And I like the idea that he ends up in service to Cass, basically as her manservant and personal assistant. Percy wants to see Desmond employed. Cassandra is being left in charge of Whitestone and all the things Percy, in his particular messy way, is not good at dealing with, which is to say the aftermath of so much of what he does.

So Cassandra, partially perhaps as a pointed comment, keeping Desmond as her personal servant - so Percy cannot forget what he has done and what he has left her to deal with.

I do not think Desmond would ever think particularly kindly of Percy. I do not blame him. No matter how much I love Percy as a character and think him well constructed and find him fascinating to explore - I would not blame Desmond in the least for being bitter and angry regarding the man who maimed him, never apologised, ensured he was given employment and just left the handling of that to his deeply traumatised younger sister.

There are many legitimate reasons to criticise Percy and Desmond, in this circumstance even more than canon, would have every cause to see those.

But I also think he'd have a lot of reasons to empathise with and understand Cassandra. I think their understanding of the complexity of their personal relationships with the Briarwoods would make them less judgemental of one another's difficult decisions during the occupation; their understanding of the pressures of the occupation and the grief Whitestone and the families within it bear for what happened - they lived in and amongst it as Percy did not.

I think they could connect on an interesting and deep way.

I also think neither is particularly prone to trusting, given everything. I think they'd take a damn long time to admit their trust for each other let alone anything else. If I wrote it, it would be a painfully slow burn.

But... I like to imagine it. I like to think up how they'd slowly be drawn closer just by working together and seeing each other every day and understanding one another's quirks. I like to think about the steady, quiet peace they build because neither has much care for sudden loud noises or explosive anger. For how their understanding of one another builds reassurance; for how that means they stand firm for each other in tentative friendship and empathetic loyalty. I like to think about the way they act towards each other, starting as the formal standard of ruling Lady and personal manservant and how that shifts as they use that to shield one another from things they know they dislike; Desmond given leave when Percy comes to speak to Cassandra, Desmond interrupting with some small important distraction when Cassandra gets caught in panic or anxiety or a memory. Quietly, persistently, helping each other, and it seeming only as work.

But it's too persistent for just work. It's too consistent for work.

But of course - they cannot just admit it. They have little reason to trust, for all they very clearly trust each other within their set dynamic.

This story, if I ever wrote it, would unfold slowly, small thing weighing upon small thing until the pressure is insurmountable and impossible to ignore.

It's not my usual style, that kind of steady slow pacing. But one day, I'd like to try it.

#samdaharu #percy de rolo #cassandra de rolo #desmond otham #critical role #ask games #ask #fic things #writing things

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thebluemartini · 4 years ago

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Battle Scars [Nessian Fic]

A/N: Well, A Court of a Silver Flames is just a little over a week away, so I might as well post one final little Nessian fic before its release! So back in November, @hereforthemoment wrote the following post:

Nesta and Cassian are sparring, right? And Cassian ends up on top of her with a dagger to her throat but at the last moment Nesta aims her dagger at his heart.

He says, “you’d be dead”

But she chuckles and says, “then I guess we’d go together”

Then they both become very serious and look into each other’s eyes until Nesta pushes him off of her and leaves the ring

I asked for permission to write a fic with this scene, and voila! I finally finished it! So here goes! (Thank you @hereforthemoment!!)

TITLE: Battle Scars

FANDOM: A Court of Thorns and Roses

SETTING: Post-ACOFAS.

CHARACTERS: Nesta and Cassian

RATING: SFW

GENRE: Angst/Romance/Drama

SYNOPSIS: Nesta and Cassian finally address the war and its aftermath.

*You can also read this on AO3 or FF

________________________________________________________________

“Train with me, Nesta.”

She did not need to peel her eyes away from her dagger to discover who was talking to her. The low timbre of his voice was familiar to her—and one she heard nearly everyday.

“That sounds like an order,” she answered coolly from where she sat on a log and continued to sharpen her dagger against the stone in her hand. “You are well aware that I’m not very fond of being told what to do,” she added in a casual tone.

“My sincerest apologies,” he replied. Nesta kept her eyes down, but she could tell he must’ve been smiling to himself. These days, he always grinned whenever she spoke civilly to him...a vast difference from how they conversed with each other the first few months of her living in the Illyrian Mountains. Those conversations were more like verbal sparring matches. But now, several months later, the two of them were more like...friends.

“What I meant to say was...would you do me the honor of dueling against me?”

Letting the stone in her hand plop onto the snowy ground, she sheathed her dagger and finally looked up to see Cassian standing beside her. His hair was pulled back, allowing her to look directly into his eyes.

The way he stared at her was...unnerving, and the way he treated her in recent weeks was equally unsettling. That fool actually had the audacity to make comments that would cause her lips to curve upwards into a smile. And he’d done things for her — like make her pancakes and retrieve new books for her — that made her feel like something was fluttering around in her stomach.

She had to shift her gaze. “You haven’t asked me to train with you before, General. Why now?” she asked, while suddenly finding the lacings along her sleeve to be quite fascinating.

“Well, before, I feared you might actually end up killing me in a duel.”

“What makes you so sure I won’t try to kill you now?”

“I have reason to believe you rather enjoy this pretty face of mine.”

Nesta’s eyebrow rose in confusion as she stood up to face him. “Whatever gave you such delusions?”

“I seem to recall you looking quite concerned when Merida scraped my cheek during training last week.”

“That’s because I wanted to have the pleasure of marking you myself,” she assured him as she crossed her arms against her chest. The scratch left by the Illyrian female who accidentally struck her dagger against his face was still there.

“I can think of a few more interesting ways you could do that without weapons, sweetheart,” he remarked with a smug grin as he allowed his gaze to drop to her lips.

Nesta glared at him. “Are you sure you want to spar with me right now? The urge to murder you is definitely present.”

Cassian smirked. “Well, I’m not the type to back down from a challenge I’ve already made. Let’s go to the ring.”

________________________________________________________________

In Nesta’s mind, every duel she engaged in was a story. Many of her fights with Illyrian females told tales of wild beasts that had been tied down for far too long that had now finally been able to roam free, progressing from rigid stances to more fluid movements within the span of the duel.

Her current fight with Cassian told its own story—one that seemed to echo her and Cassian’s relationship since she moved here to the Illyrian Mountains. At first, his movements were slow and hesitant as he began circling around her, trying to gauge exactly what kind of fighter he was facing, while her own slashing motions at him were rapid. But he was quick to defend himself against her, blocking her dagger with his own. For a moment, her persistence seemed to frustrate him, causing him to finally attempt to strike back at her. Then their arms tired, and they spent less time sparring and more time analyzing the other as they circled each other.

“You’ve grown stronger,” Cassian noted as he continued staring at her.

“Are you surprised?” she asked, staring right back and noticing how the snowflakes fell on his eyelashes.

“No,” he calmly replied. “I’m proud of you.”

At the sight of her raised, quizzical brow, he continued, “You’ve overcome so much. It’s inspiring.”

She would’ve raised her brow even higher if she was capable. To hear him say such a thing was...shocking. Alarming. Unsettling. Maybe even infuriating? But maybe she even felt a sense of pride, too...

“But you still have much to learn,” Cassian said with a strained breath and in a swift motion, he suddenly tackled her to the ground.

Laying atop her body, Cassian pressed the tip of his dagger against her throat, careful not to nick her skin.

“You’d be dead right now,” he muttered.

But at that moment, he felt the tip of Nesta’s dagger pressing against his chest, right over his heart. Nesta let out a low chuckle. “Then I guess we’d go together.”

Cassian’s eyes quickly met hers, and her laughter faded. Silence fell between them—only the sounds of their ragged breathing could be heard as they looked at each other.

Suddenly, with a shove, Nesta winced as she pushed Cassian off of her. Getting up, she sprinted out of the ring, leaving behind her dagger on the ground.

“Nesta!” Cassian called out. “Nesta, wait!” In a quick movement, he stood up and charged after her as his own dagger tumbled to the ground.

Determined, Nesta trudged her way through the snow with her arms folded across her body. The gusts of cold wind blowing against her face did not deter her. In fact, the biting cold helped distract her from thinking about the last time she almost died with Cassian.

“Nesta!” Cassian called from behind her. She wasn’t walking fast enough. “Nesta, please. We need to talk.”

“About what?” she shouted back, unable to resist the urge to yell at him and release her pent-up anger. Of course, she had an idea about what he possibly would want to talk to her about, but she’d been wrong about that before. Back after the King of Hybern was dead and the war was over, she thought he’d seek her out and address what he said to her on the battlefield. But that never happened.

“Us, the war...everything!” he replied. His voice was louder now.

Inside, Nesta was seething and couldn’t help herself from bursting now. She abruptly halted and whipped around to face Cassian as he approached, catching him by surprise.

“You’ve had months—years, actually—to talk!” she exclaimed. “Why even bother at this point?”

“Because...I’ve been such an idiot–”

“No argument there,” Nesta grumpily interjected as she crossed her arms against her chest.

Cassian paused and took a few heavy breaths as he looked at her. “And we need to talk about it in order to move forward. Because I love–”

“I need to go,” she interrupted him as she shook her head in disbelief at the words he was possibly about to utter. She turned around to resume her journey back to her cabin.

“Nesta, this is coming out all wrong. Can we please just talk?” he asked as followed her and reached out to grab her hand in an attempt to make her stop.

Instead, she furiously swatted his hand away, not noticing the patch of ice on the ground as she did so. She slipped, sending her sprawling to the ground, and let out a small yelp in the process as the sharp pain surged through her ankle.

“Nesta!” Cassian was instantly beside her, crouching down to help her sit up. “Nesta, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

“My ankle is twisted,” Nesta answered gruffly through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to bark her head off at him. “Leave it alone,” she ordered when Cassian placed his hand against her boot as if he were going to slide it off.

“We should wrap your ankle with some snow,” he explained.

“I will do it,” Nesta insisted with a frown, as she averted her eyes from Cassian. “Just leave me be and go on your way.”

Confusion covered Cassian’s face. “Nesta, I’m not leaving you out here to suffer alone.”

“Why not? It’s what you’re good at.” Nesta spat back as she remained focused on pulling off her boot.

Cassian froze as her words punctured his heart. Silence passed between them while Nesta inspected her ankle. Cassian then reached for the small pouch belted at his waist, pulling out a gray lace cloth that was adorned with various Illyrian symbols.

“I’d like to change my ways,” Cassian spoke faintly. “And become a man worthy of you…if you will let me.”

He grabbed a handful of snow and wrapped it within the cloth, then held out his makeshift ice pack, waiting for Nesta’s permission to place it around her ankle. She peered over at it, curious as to how and why he would have a cloth like that with him.

“This cloth belonged to my mother,” Cassian said upon noticing her staring. “I like to have it with me, especially in battle.”

Nesta’s frown disappeared and switched to a look of slight concern. “Why would you want to use that to wrap my ankle?” she asked in a softened voice.

“It’s all I have with me,” he replied. “And I am willing to give you all that I have,” he said with a meaningful look. “If you will allow me,” he added.

Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, Nesta returned to inspecting her ankle. “Be gentle,” she instructed, granting him permission and not daring to say more out of fear of what Cassian was possibly implying.

Cassian proceeded to gingerly wrap the cloth and snow around her swelling ankle, tying it so it was secure. “In the weeks when I was laying in bed, recovering from my injuries after the war…” he began hesitantly. “Every time I awoke, I always hoped you would be there when I opened my eyes.”

Nesta’s breath hitched upon hearing Cassian speak of the war, but she did not stop him from speaking.

“But you never came,” he continued calmly, as he delicately slid her boot back onto her foot and began tying the laces. “And I was left feeling angry, bitter, and sad. I thought...after the way you shielded my body with my own, after our...after our kiss, that it would’ve meant something to you. That you would want to check on me and make sure I was all right and talk to me. But when you never showed, I assumed you wanted nothing to do with a low-born bastard like me. That everything between us meant nothing to you.”

Nesta absorbed every word he said as she watched his hands. But she allowed the sounds of the whistling wind to fill the silence instead of responding.

“I can carry you back to the cabin, if you want,” he suggested as he stood up off the ground.

Even when it came to the smallest things, Nesta hated not being the one in control. But with her ankle throbbing in pain and a long trek back to the cabin before her, it appeared she was left with no choice but to accept Cassian’s help.

Yet, there was something endearing about his offer. He didn’t ask her if he could fly her back, which would be much faster than carrying her by foot. But he knew how much she detested flying and how sick it made her feel.

It wasn’t the first time he’d recognized how she’d been feeling. As of late, he definitely had taken notice of certain things about her...like never starting a fire within the cabin because he realized its crackling sounds distressed her, always fully cooking the meat in her meals so it’s red juice wouldn’t remind her of bloodshed, and preparing a cup of tea for her each evening knowing it helped her sleep well each night. He even started remembering the little details about her, like how she prefers honey in her tea over sugar.

Nesta gave a stiff nod.

Cassian instantly knelt down to lift her up in both of his arms, careful not to jostle her ankle too much.

As he began the trek to the cabin, Nesta turned her face toward his. While he had been learning more about her these past few months, there were still some things he did not yet understand. And there were things about him that she’d been wanting to understand.

Feeling her gaze, he looked back at her.

She took a deep breath. “In the weeks after the war, I was drowning,” she recalled calmly. “I was struggling to deal with all that happened in the war, from fighting the king to dealing with my father’s death to coming to terms with my powers.” Her voice fell into a whisper. “Do you think I was ready to deal with...whatever I may have felt for you at the time on top of that? Do you think I would’ve wanted to visit you and see firsthand the after-effects of a war that I was already having nightmares about each night?”

With a somber look darkening his face — an expression that Nesta wasn’t sure she’d ever seen grace his face before — Cassian stopped.

Squeezing her more tightly in his arms, he raised her a little higher so he could bring his face closer to hers. “I’m so sorry, Nesta,” he said. “I’ve...failed you so many times. I chose to be bitter. I was hurt that you appeared to despise me while I was in love with you.”

While she could sense his apology was genuine, there was still more she needed to know and comprehend. And more that he needed to realize. “You promised more time with me out on the battlefield, then abandoned me. Then, you agreed to send me away to live here in the mountains against my will. Is that love to you?” she wondered sadly. “You told me that you didn’t understand how my sisters could love me. Would you call that love, too?”

A tear shone in Cassian’s eye as he shook his head vigorously. “No, absolutely not,” he insisted. “I realize how wrong I’ve been. I’m so sorry I gave into my pain and tried to hurt you the way I felt you had hurt me. I hope, in time, you can forgive me.”

Nesta found she couldn’t reply. Not just yet. She’d been wrestling with thoughts of how he treated her in the past, compared to the way he’d made her feel as of late.

Cassian soon resumed walking, striding through the snow with determined steps and an intense, serious facial expression.

The rest of the journey to the cabin was quiet, but once Cassian stepped upon the porch outside the front door, Nesta held up the palm of her hand and rested it upon his chest, catching his attention. “Cassian, I want to forgive you,” she confessed softly. “But I… I need to see that I can trust you.”

Cassian nodded, turning his head down. “I understand,” he said. “You don’t know how much I wish we could start over. That we could go back to the end of the war, so I could be there for you afterwards,” he stated wistfully.

Nesta moved her hand up to his cheek, capturing his gaze again. “Then, let’s start over.”

“What?” he asked, puzzled.

“Begin again by making me a promise, and prove to me that you can keep it this time,” she proposed.

Cassian took a deep breath before tilting his head down and staring deep into her steel eyes. “My only regrets in this life are the ways I’ve failed you and how I’ve wasted time that could’ve been spent better with you, Nesta. We will have that time now. I promise.”

He tightened his grasp on her, and to his astonishment, she lifted her head up and planted a sweet, brief kiss upon his lips.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against his. “It just felt like something was missing after such a promise,” she admitted with a slight grin playing at her lips. Cassian let out a low chuckle.

“Don’t screw up this time,” she added in a whisper.

“There’s no way I’m losing you this time, sweetheart.”

________________________________________________________________

A/N: In writing this, I realized that I wished there were more synonyms for “stare” because I am ALL ABOUT intense gazes between Nesta and Cassian! So apologies for the overuse of the word.

Anyway, I hope you liked it! I was pretty determined to include a Nessian kiss in here, but obviously those two still have a lot to heal through here...more than a oneshot allows :) so thank goodness ACOSF is almost here to do that for us! I had hoped to finish this fic weeks ago so there was a good chunk of time before the release but here we are. (While I am DYING for this book, I do feel a tinge of sadness over the fact that most of my Nessian fics will no longer be canon-compliant! XD)

Thank you for reading and thanks again @hereforthemoment for the fic inspiration!

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

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spine-buster · 4 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 30

A/N: Okay, so, special announcement.....

The President Wears Prada is ending at Chapter 35.

I know a lot of you weren’t expecting this, but that is where I have planned it to end. It’s a natural end. Nothing will be forced. There’s still a lot left to go, a lot to happen with Aberdeen, Willy, and everybody else, and a lot to write about. I haven’t written up to it yet, but I know exactly what is going to happen. I didn’t want the end to come as a shock to you, which is why I’m announcing it now.

In the meantime, enjoy this chapter!

July 1st, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was with William on the rooftop of his condo building.

She’d spun a wild web of lies to make sure she could be with him after he begged to see her for Canada Day. It was a bit awkward this year, because it landed on a Wednesday, right in the middle of the week, but she’d managed. She’d told Kasha she was with her family. She’d told her family she couldn’t stay the whole day, and because they spent the morning and the afternoon together already, they were okay with that.

She was getting too good at lying.

“What are you thinking about?” William asked as they lay together on a recliner they had dragged from underneath pergolas so they could see the night sky. Though there was too much light pollution in Toronto to see a sky full of stars, there were still some bright stars in the sky along with the glowing moon. From all the way atop the building, they could barely hear the noise from the city below.

She smiled. “For the first time, nothing,” she said, cuddling her head onto his chest even more as he held her hand against her heart. “My mind and my heart are at ease right now.”

She could feel him smile. He liked how she felt so at east with him. He liked how he could make her feel that way in between the stress of her job and moving forward in her career. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

She raised her head from his chest to cock an eyebrow up at him. “We’re not having sex on the roof of your condo,” she deadpanned.

He snorted. He didn’t blame her for thinking that’s what he wanted. Ever since he got back to Toronto, they fell back into the habit of sneaking around. Most of it happened at his apartment now, in between skating at Scotiabank Arena and Aberdeen telling Kasha she’d have to be there the whole day and not just the few hours when they boys were in. “No, minskatt. Something else.”

“What something else?”

William shifted his body so he was sitting up more, causing Aberdeen to shift too, straddling his lap to face him instead. She ran her hands over his chest quickly before he took them, kissing them both, before she watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “You weren’t the only one I was talking to during quarantine.”

She furrowed her brows at him. She knew he wasn’t cheating – he wouldn’t be risking her career and her reputation if he was just going to cheat on her – so she had no clue what he meant by that. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“I thought you deserved some good news during the lockdown…quarantine…whatever,” he began. “So I got Kyle to send me Max’s number.”

“Who’s Max?”

William rolled his eyes and giggled. “Max Kerman, minskatt. From the Arkells.” He watched as her face lit up before he continued. “He told me to tell you they’re coming out with a new album. Well – new. It’s, like, an acoustic album. They’re re-imagining all of their songs as if you’re singing them around a campfire,” he explained.

“Really?” Aberdeen was excited by the news. “That’s so cool. I love when they do acoustic sets.”

“Mhm,” William nodded. “They’re releasing it in August. But they’re actually including one new song.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Want to hear it?”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. “What do you mean want to hear it? You have it?!”

William nodded. “Max sent it to me. I told him about how much of a fan you were, and he remembered you from the mentor’s trip, so he didn’t mind so long as we were the only ones who heard it.”

He could see her eyes light up like fireworks. “Well—well of course! I’m not gonna leak it!” she said as if Max were standing in front of them. “Is it acoustic too?” she asked. William nodded. “What’s it about?”

“Let’s see,” he smiled, fiddling around with his phone, shaking slightly. “I’ve listened to it once or twice. I think it’s a love song.”

Aberdeen waited impatiently as William found the song. He turned the audio up on his phone to the highest level as she heard Max’s voice count the beat in. When the acoustic guitar started, she automatically fell in love with it. Melodic, as always, sounding like a perfect Arkells song. She swayed back and forth gently, and at that point, she saw William staring at her.

I think about you all the time I can’t get you off my mind

Aberdeen’s body seized up immediately. I think about you all the time. I can’t get you off my mind. I think about you all the time. I can’t get you off my mind. I think about you when I’m not even thinking. I think about you when I’m not even thinking.

A rush of emotion flushed her entire body. “Willy—” she tried to get out, her voice strained as she pushed away from him.

“Minskatt—” he grabbed her hands on his chest as she pushed away so she couldn’t push away any further. “Minskatt, come on—”

“—Willy what did you do—”

“—Minskatt, minskatt shhhhh,” he cooed as he saw tears begin to fall down her cheeks. “Minskatt, listen to me—”

“Willy,” she stressed, looking him in the eye. “Willy, is this song about me? About us?”

He nodded softly. “I got him to write a song about you. Like your dream.”

Aberdeen burst out into tears, covering her face with her hands as she sobbed into them. William stopped the song and leaned forward to wrap his arms around her, bringing her into his chest to cry. He held her tightly and placed a kiss on the crown of her head. “Why are you crying, minskatt?” he asked.

She didn’t respond at first. But when she lifted her head from his chest and wiped her eyes to be able to see him clearly, she finally did. “Are you joking? Why am I crying?” she asked rhetorically. “My boyfriend just got my favourite band to write a song about me!” she exclaimed.

“But you like that I did that though, right?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. That at least made her smile. “Of course I like it, you Costco hot dog,” she said, making him chuckle. “But I don’t – how did you – I mean what – how—”

“I called Max, and I told him about how there was this girl,” William said. “I didn’t tell him too much. Don’t worry. I didn’t tell him it was you. But I told him what was important, and some things to include. And he wrote it, and sort of filled in the rest with his own stuff.”

Aberdeen couldn’t believe what she was hearing. William had gotten Max Kerman to write a song about her. About them. Without even revealing their secret. And he’d recorded it. Mastered it. Put it on an Arkells album. Would tour with it. Sing it to crowds—

“The best part about it is whenever we hear it on the radio, we’re the only two people in the world who know it’s about us,” William said softly, looking her in the eye.

Aberdeen started crying all over again. She let her face fall back into his chest as he held her again. She cried her eyes out. This was, bar none, the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her, let alone a boyfriend. She was so overwhelmed with emotion that she almost couldn’t handle it. William, for his part, let her cry until she was all cried out – until she lifted her head again and wiped her eyes again too look at him.

“Can I play it?” he asked.

She nodded her head, preparing herself.

I think about you all the time I can't get you off my mind If they only knew Who I've been talking to You got a place off the park I'll come on by after dark Was nervous then When you let me in

We were hanging at cross town parties, oh Just killing time until the main event

And it hurts All throughout my insides I couldn't stop if I tried Loving you I'll never learn So I'll call you when I'm outside You said, "The key's behind the porch light for unit two" I thought of maybe quitting But there's no quitting you

You said that the fridge is dry But you got some red, you got some white The drunks outside Singing lullabies Slow dance swaying back and forth Whispering "What's mine is yours" When you say my name Hits in a different way

You call me out when I'm talking nonsense, oh And I'll kiss you when I got nothing to say

And it hurts (oh oh oh) All throughout my insides I couldn't stop if I tried Loving you I'll never learn (oh oh oh) So I'll call ya when I'm outside The key's behind the porch light for unit two And I thought of maybe quitting But there's no quitting you

My whole life I'm scanning for the exits, oh Lying next to you I don't wanna leave

And it hurts (oh oh oh) All throughout my insides And I couldn't stop if I tried Loving you I'll never learn (oh oh oh) So I'll call ya when I'm outside The key's behind the porch light for unit two And I thought of maybe quitting But there's no quitting you There's no quitting you

By the time the song finished, Aberdeen had stuffed her face into the crook of William’s neck. She let some last tears fall. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said in his ear.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, minskatt. Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker.”

“Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker.”

***

July 10th, 2020

The NHL announced its Return to Play Plan on May 26 with 24 teams in competition for the Stanley Cup. The tournament begins with the Stanley Cup Qualifiers, which include 16 teams paired in eight best-of-5 series and a round-robin among the top four teams in each conference to determine seeds for the Stanley Cup Playoffs. "I want to make clear that the health and safety of our players, coaches, essential support staff and our communities are paramount," Commissioner Gary Bettman said when announcing the Return to Play Plan. "While nothing is without risk, ensuring health and safety has been central to all of our planning so far and will remain so. "Let me assure you that the reason we are doing this is because our fans have told us in overwhelming numbers that they want to complete the season if at all possible. And our players and our teams are clear that they want to play and bring the season to its rightful conclusion." The format was determined in meetings of the Return to Play Committee, which included executives from the NHL and NHL Players' Association, and five players: Ottawa Senators defenseman Ron Hainsey, Edmonton Oilers center Connor McDavid, Winnipeg Jets center Mark Scheifele, Toronto Maple Leafs center John Tavares and Philadelphia Flyers forward James van Riemsdyk. The qualifiers are being held at two hub cities: the 12 Eastern Conference teams are in Toronto, and the 12 Western Conference teams are in Edmonton, also the site of the conference finals and Stanley Cup Final. A comprehensive system for testing is in place in each hub city, and each team was permitted to travel a maximum of 52 personnel, including players, coaches and staff. "Obviously, we anticipate playing over the summer and into the early fall," Commissioner Bettman said in May. "Obviously, these are extraordinary and unprecedented times. Any plan for the resumption of play, by definition, cannot be perfect. And I am certain that, depending on which team you root for or which team you cover, you can find some element of this package that you might prefer to be done differently. But we believe we have constructed an overall plan that includes all teams that, as a practical matter, might have had a chance of qualifying for the playoffs when the season was paused. And this plan will produce a worthy Stanley Cup champion who will have run the postseason gauntlet that is unique to the NHL."

***

This was Aberdeen’s second training camp for the same season. She never thought she’d ever experience a professional sports team’s training camp in her entire life, let alone two. But her life had taken a turn one year ago (thirteen months now, if we were really counting) when she met William at that bar and had slept with him. Everything she had experienced this year was…surreal, to say the least. And that was just in her personal life. Never mind her professional life.

Although the lines were blurred these days between her personal and professional life.

At Scotiabank Arena, she knew the entire team was on the ice a few floors below Brendan’s office. She knew Sheldon was putting them through drills, making them skate laps around the rink, shoot at the net – whatever they needed to do to feel like hockey players again. Whatever they needed to do to go all the way. Whatever they needed to do to win the Stanley Cup.

“Aberdeen,” she heard her name being called by Brendan. She shot up from her seat and made her way into his office. He looked up at her through his glasses as he continued to focus on his laptop screen. “Close the door behind you, please. And sit.”

Suddenly her nerves got the best of her. He never usually needed her to shut the door unless they were talking about something confidential. “Is everything okay?” she asked, sitting.

He sighed, taking off his glasses and laying them beside his laptop. He took a good look at her before he began speaking again. “Aberdeen, I’m going to ask you a serious question, and I need you to think about it before answering me.”

She gulped. “Okay…”

“Do you want to come into the bubble?”

She was shocked. He hadn’t spoken to her about the bubble yet, and on the first instance he did, he was asking her to go into it. This was a grand total of three days before the clubs had to submit the final list of the 52 personnel who would be going in, so she was sure she wasn’t being considered anyway. “Me?”

He nodded. “You’d fulfill roles for both Kyle and I, and you would be helping the content creator with the social media aspect of the bubble,” he explained. “But Kyle and I were speaking, and as we were going through the list of employees to bring, your name came up.”

“I…me?”

“You’re reliable. Your hard-working. We know you’re not going to break any rules. And fuck, there’s some extensive rules,” he picked up a heavy duotang, wagged it at her, before plopping it down on his desk again. “But it’s going to be tough going in there. Psychologically. It’s not going to be easy. Especially if we go all the way. And believe me…we want to go all the way,” he stressed. “That’s why I want you to think about it.”

***

“Brendan asked me to be in the bubble.”

Aberdeen and William had a bad habit of asking things or blurting things out after sex while they were lying in the bed, she with her tits out, trying to catch their breaths. When she looked over at him, his eyes were bulged out. “What?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head. “He wants me to fulfill my role and help the content creator with the social media aspect. But yeah…he wants me in there.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what she was expecting to hear from William, considering the information they already knew about the bubble and knowing that much more information was to come, but it definitely wasn’t a decisive, stern, “No.”

It was her turn to whip her head to look at him. “Excuse me?” she asked. “No?”

“No,” William shook his head. “I don’t want you in there, Aberdeen.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows, not understanding why William was acting like this and saying these things. She shifted so she was propping herself up on her elbow. “William…I…what?”

“You…I…listen,” he began, sighing, “as much as I love you and as much as I’m gonna miss you when I’m quarantined in there, I don’t…I don’t know if I want you being in there. I don’t want you to experience that.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve already gotten the rules. We can’t be in each other’s rooms. Aberdeen, we can’t even speak in the elevators. It’s…I don’t know if I’d be able to do all that knowing you’re there too. But even more important than that, I don’t want you to risk anything. Your safety, your health.”

“Willy…” she cooed, bringing an arm up to drape around him. In turn, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, placing a quick kiss on her shoulder. “I know you want me to be safe, but I’ll be safe in there. If you’re safe, I’m safe in there too. What’s the difference?”

William continued to shake his head. “I don’t want you to have to go through, psychologically, what I’m gonna have to go through.”

She brought a hand between them to cup his face. “You don’t have to be the martyr here, Willy. It’s not like I want you to go through it either.”

William sighed, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. She could feel his lips graze her skin on her neck and shoulder, but he stayed silent. He didn’t say another word.

***

July 12th, 2020

“I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do what?”

“I’ll come into the bubble.”

Brendan looked up from his desk, finally. He took off his glasses. “You’re sure about this?”

“Positive.”

“Because once you say yes you can’t back out. We have to submit the names to the NHL officially tomorrow. And once you’re in the Royal York, you can’t leave unless it’s a family emergency – death, birth of a child—”

“I know. I read the package,” she nodded her head. “I understand what I’m getting myself into. I’ll do it.”

***

July 16th, 2020

Aberdeen walked gingerly into the coffee shop Brendan had sent her to. In the middle of a pandemic. She understood cases were now fairly low in Ontario, but she was still apprehensive. People shouldn’t just be…going places. Walking into offices that weren’t their places of work or coffee shops that weren’t their regular coffee shops or grocery stores that weren’t their regular grocery stores. Places that they didn’t know. That they weren’t used to.

Yet here she was.

She stood at the door awkwardly. There were exactly three spaces for indoor dining when, in regular times, she knew there would be much more. At one table, a couple sat with masks on and coffees in front of them staring at their phones. At another, a girl who couldn’t have been older than here was sneakily taking a Snapchat selfie. At the third—

“Aberdeen Bloom?” the woman sitting at the table asked. Her eyes crinkled slightly, signaling to Aberdeen that she was smiling behind her mask. “Please, sit!” she motioned to the chair.

“Hi,” Aberdeen said awkwardly, extending her hand but then pulling it back violently before half bowing as a form of saying hello. She was so fucking awkward. She didn’t even know what this was for. “That’s me, Aberdeen Bloom. I’m Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant. And your name is…”

“I’m Beth Zadakis, the major features editor of Toronto Life magazine.”

Aberdeen’s breath hitched in her throat. She was going to fucking kill Brendan. She was going to go back to the office and murder him in cold blood. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she said politely, thinking about the gold-plated envelope opener in Brendan’s desk she could use to stab him. “You’ll have to forgive me, but Brendan didn’t really give me any information about this…uh, meeting,” she said. “What is it that he needs from you? Or you from him?”

“Nothing, actually,” Beth’s eyes crinkled again. “It’s actually more so about you. Brendan tells me you’re a writer.”

Aberdeen gulped. “I’m definitely trying to be.”

“Have you submitted to us before?”

Aberdeen nodded. “Just to the memoirs section. I think it was Sandy who read my work, but it was ultimately rejected. At least, that’s who I got the email from.”

Beth nodded. “Sandy’s actually left to take a job with The Globe and Mail. And due to some promotions and transfers, there’s actually an opening for a contributing editor – it’s what we call our writers.”

Aberdeen knew very well what Toronto Life called their writers. She had dreamt of seeing her name on that list for years now. “Why…I mean—how do I factor into this?” she stuttered out.

“Brendan tells me you’re going into the NHL bubble.”

“I am.”

Beth leaned in slightly. “We’d like for you to write a feature for the magazine about life in the bubble. The hotel, the boys, the games – everything. Hockey in a pandemic. A full feature, anywhere between five to ten thousand words.”

Aberdeen’s body felt like it was on fire. She was sure her eyes were bulging out dramatically, but at this point, she didn’t care. “I can do that,” she said, nodding her head. “I can do that.”

“If you can pull it off, Aberdeen, you’ve got a job with the magazine.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. “I can do it. I won’t let you down.”

Beth shifted slightly in her seat and took out a piece of paper. “I’m going to write you the name and contact information of my senior editor, Alec,” she said. “He’ll want to meet you and speak to you about the piece. But it’s a go, Aberdeen.”

***

“A major feature, minskatt?” William’s eyes lit up at the news Aberdeen had just shared, her giddiness and excitable energy rubbing off on him quickly. “That sounds important.”

“Is is important! It’s the longest feature of the magainze! Willy, it’s usually the cover!” she exclaimed. “The—the cover! Do you know how much of a big deal that is?!”

“I can tell from how much you’re freaking out about it,” he smiled. He reached to grab her hands and intertwined their fingers. He pushed them and crossed them at the small of her back before moving closer to her body and giving her a quick kiss. “Look at you, minskatt. I’m so proud of you.”

“Well, I haven’t written it yet.”

“Yeah, but you’ve shown me your writing. And it’s fantastic. So you’re gonna knock this one out of the park.”

Aberdeen knew how lucky she was to have someone like William in her life, always supporting her and always being her biggest cheerleader. While other people had told her to pursue other things, he was there encouraging her – the silent support she always wanted and needed. “I love you. D’you know that?” she asked tenderly, looking up at his big blue eyes.

He could only smile. “Not as much as I love you.”

She chuckled slightly. “You realize if I knock this out of the park, that means I become a contributing editor at the magazine. I become a writer. My dream. And that means I leave the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

“That means I can finally kiss you in public.”

Aberdeen smiled. It did mean he could finally kiss her in public. It meant a lot of things. They could finally be open with their relationship. They could go out on dates publicly. They could go out to dinner. She could bring him to San Remo Bakery. They could have picnics in the park. They could walk along the lake. They could post on Instagram about each other. She could finally have the name set as ‘William Nylander’ on her phone as opposed to ‘Head Empty’ (maybe she’d keep it that way). They could do so much. So so so much. “It would be bittersweet leaving…” she bit her lip. “I mean…I love my job, Will. I love all the guys.”

“Brendan wouldn’t have put you up for the job if he didn’t think it would be a great opportunity for you,” he shrugged his shoulders. “The guys would miss you but they know you want to become a writer.”

“But what if I can’t deliver?”

William shook his head. “Brendan wouldn’t have put you up for the job if he didn’t think you’d be able to deliver, either, minskatt,” he said. “I know you can do it. We all do.”

***

July 17th, 2020

“You must be Aberdeen Bloom,” Alec Young said with no hint of any emotion in his voice as Aberdeen stood in the doorway of his large, expansive office. As per COVID-19 protocols, there were very few people in, but apparently Alec was important enough to be in the offices working instead of working from home. She imagined he had piles and piles of articles to edit for future issues. She was surprised he even had time for her – granted, it was a quick lunchtime visit, but still.

“Yes sir, that’s me,” she nodded quickly, clutching her purse handles in her hands.

“Beth tells me you’re going to be writing a feature for us, possibly,” he said. “About the NHL bubble.”

“That’s the plan, sir, yes.”

He eyed her. “Sit. And close the door behind you.”

Aberdeen did as she was told, sitting in the plush chair more than six feet away from his desk – his office was that big. She settled in but he made her wait as he typed away furiously into his laptop before he finally stopped and turned towards her. “She told you the length?”

“Yes. 5,000-10,000 words.”

“And what we’re looking for?”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows slightly. “I…I assume about life in the bubble. Playing professional sports during a pandemic,” she said.

That was when he smiled. “No Miss Bloom. We’re looking for…more.”

“More?”

He clasped his hands together on his desk. “We know what hockey players are like, Miss Bloom. You’ve been working for the team for about a year now, right? I’m sure you’ve seen the shenanigans they get up to.”

“Shenanigans?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. The booze, the drugs, the women. They’re professional athletes,” he said. Aberdeen thought back to a hotel visit in Calgary where she found Mitch Marner and Jake Muzzin playing mini-sticks in the hotel hallway like they were a peewee team on their first-ever road trip; she also thought back to the snowball fight a bunch of them had in Montreal where they were giggling like schoolgirls while also deliberately aiming for each other’s nuts. If Alec only knew. “That’s what you’re covering for us. The shenanigans. Sneaking women into the bubble, the fights, the booze – everything.”

“I…” she began to protest, not knowing which words should come out of her mouth first. “They’re…they’re nothing like that anymore. They’re just not,” she said. Alec looked unconvinced. “These are guys that are bringing their gaming consoles into their rooms at the Royal York. They’re worried about the wifi being too weak when everyone’s gaming that it’s gonna lag or something. They’re not sneaking in women—and drugs? I don’t even know where to—”

“Listen,” Alec said firmly, holding his hand up to get her to stop talking. “Either you get us the scoop, or you don’t. If you get it, you have a job here, and the guarantee that your article will be on our cover and be front page on the magazine racks and newsstands. If you don’t get the scoop, you don’t get the job. It’s up to you.”

Aberdeen thought back to when Mike Babcock got fired. She thought back to getting called by Brendan late at night and less than an hour and a half later she was on the MLSE private jet. She thought back to just before going into the locker room, and what Kyle had said to her. “You know Aberdeen, Brendan trusts you.” She thought back to what he said after he thanked her for not leaking the information. “You could have sold that information to any newspaper or reporter and they would have offered you a job. But you didn’t.”

She remembered what she told him. “I would never burn this bridge. I’d never sell Brendan or the team out like that for personal gain.”

And then, what Kyle followed up with. “This city is rife with opportunity for people who take advantage of others. But you’re not like that – at least yet.”

That was before everything. Before she had sex with William. Before she carried on a secret relationship with him behind everyone’s back. Before she started lying to everybody. Had she changed? Was she a person, now, who would take advantage of others? Would she take advantage of the organization that had given her so much for her dream job in writing? Was she that person? A person who would lie to get what she wanted? Fabricate entire stories just to secure a dream job?

The answer, to her, was immediate.

No.

But she looked at Alec. “I understand,” she said instead.

He smiled. “Good.”

159 notes · View notes

15-dogs · 4 years ago

Text

something like this |s.b.|

pairing: sirius black x reader

summary: sirius always seems to have something to say about your boyfriend, but maybe it’s because his words are powered by another emotion

warnings: light swearing

guide: (Y/N) = your name, italics = flashback

word count: 2229

a/n: hi hello I’m a HUGE new girl fan and I was rewatching some episodes the other night (specifically oregon s4e16) and then I had an urge to make a fic?? off of the episode?? so yeah that’s what I did lol I hope all of you like it!!

“Sorry,” Remus said as he placed a letter before you, “it’s not from him.”

You groaned and threw your head in your hands. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you― specifically Sirius― so you regained composure, meeting everyone’s sad eyes with a smile.

“It’s fine!” You shot a glare at Sirius who hid his smirk with a long sip from his mug. “Don’t start with me, Sirius.”

“I haven’t said a word, love.”

You rolled your eyes as you got up from the table. “He’s coming, I know he is.”

“I bet he’s just busy, (Y/N),” Peter assured you.

“Yeah, you’re right, Peter. He’s just busy.”

“Or maybe he just doesn’t make time for you,” Sirius interjected.

You rounded on the raven haired boy, finger pointed at his chest. “I thought I said not to start with me,” you sneered.

Sirius raised his hands in defense, standing up so he towered over you. “I’m just saying, Ben’s your boyfriend, he should be spending his summer with you here. Or at least he should write you. When did he say he was visiting us? Four days ago, was it?”

You scuffed your feet against the wooden paneling of the little home you shared with the three boys. You suddenly felt ashamed; you didn’t want to admit that Sirius had a point, but he most certainly did. Ben hadn’t bothered to contact you since you moved in. When you two went long distance, Ben had promised he’d at least stay for a bit to help you unpack but there you were, living in your new flat with Remus, Sirius, and Peter for a couple weeks now, nearly fully unpacked and ready to move on. But you weren’t ready to move on from Ben.

And then you were back under Sirius’s gaze, his eyes softening as your shoulders drooped. “Six days ago. He said he was coming six days ago.”

Sirius cursed himself for falling prey to your doe eyes. He grabbed you by the arms, ducking to meet your gaze. “Hey, look, I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You wiggled out of his grasp and waved him off as you stalked towards your room. “It’s...it’s really fine, Sirius.”

He ran his hand through his hair in distraught. “Shit, no-”

“It’s fine, Sirius, it’s fine.”

As you disappeared into your room and shut the door behind you, Remus clapped Sirius on the back. “So smooth, Pads. Really, I think she might have fallen in love with you already.”

Sirius shrugged out of Remus’s hand and stormed off towards his room, leaving Remus and Peter stifling snickers behind him.

Sirius flopped onto his bed, throwing his head back onto the pillow. He groaned at his actions, recalling what happened months prior, before you got together with Ben.

“Listen, I can’t just kiss you like this!” Sirius cried. A cocky grin tugged at your lips. Sirius’ eyes went wide and he shook his head fervently.

“What does that mean?”

“N-nothing.”

Sirius Black was nervous. And it was all because of you.

He started to stammer our poor excuses before promptly shutting himself up and darting off towards his dorm. You called after him, feeling terrible for making fun of him during the little drinking game. Something about the way he looked at you made you feel like he wasn’t joking when he said he didn’t want to kiss you like that, but still wanted to kiss you.

And Sirius wanted to. He wanted to since he met you but you were too blind to see it.

―

You paced around the kitchen, awaiting an owl from Ben. Remus almost felt sorry for you, watching you pause every few minutes because you thought you heard a hoot or a flap of wings.

But for the hundredth time that day, you paused at the sound of wings. And so did Remus.

You ran to the window to catch the owl, seeing that it was Ben’s tawny. You squealed with excitement as Sirius exited his room. He felt instantly filled with regret as he saw you petting the owl, bouncing up and down.

“Sirius, look! I told you he’d write, I told you!”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair and feigned happiness. “Well, you proved me wrong, (Y/N).”

“What does it say?” Remus interjected.

You ripped open the letter, your eyes scanning over the sweet words that your boyfriend wrote you. You read it once, twice, three times, your face falling with each individual read. Sirius furrowed his brow and placed a hand on your shoulder. You gasped at his touch and looked up at him, tears in your eyes.

You let out a watery chuckle and forced a smile on your face. “Ben’s not coming,” you explained. “Too busy. He says that we’re probably already unpacked so it wouldn’t make sense for him to buy a Portkey and travel from America and whatnot, so…”

“What?” Sirius looked appalled. “You’re joking.”

“I guess you could say I can’t be Sirius.” Even Sirius couldn’t laugh at your joke. You shifted your weight and looked at the floor. “Go on, Sirius, tell me how shitty of a person Ben is. I know that you’re dying to.”

Sirius sighed, looking over your shoulder to meet Remus’ knowing eyes. Remus shrugged as if to tell Sirius that whatever he would say he had to mean because you could see right through him.

“Listen, you’re probably right. He’s just busy.”

You nodded, feeling the tears start to stream down your cheeks. “I’m gonna go to my room.”

“Wait, (Y/N)!”

You dropped the letter at Sirius’s feet as you ran towards your room and shut the door behind you, collapsing on your bed in a ball of sorrows.

Sirius picked up the letter and read it once over, scoffing at his poor excuse of an apology. Remus stared at his friend amusedly, sipping coffee from a mug. Sirius slammed the paper on their table, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t believe he would do that!” Sirius hissed.

“You can’t? Because I most certainly can.”

“She deserves someone who actually cares about her, someone who wants to be with her, someone-”

“Like you, Sirius? She deserves someone like you?”

Sirius froze. Remus raised his brows awaiting Sirius’s response, but nothing came. That was as much an answer as any.

―

You had been crying in your room for the past couple days. Remus would occasionally bring you chocolates, Peter crafted little toys like fortune tellers, and Sirius? Sirius hadn’t shown up so much.

He would check in on you, sure, but he never brought you anything like the other guys. You weren’t necessarily upset about it, but you were confused as to why he seemed to be more distant than the other guys. Not avoiding you, just distant.

Maybe he wasn’t good at comforting people. But you knew that wasn’t true, Sirius had always been with you, always been there for you. What would have caused this change in behavior?

As if he could sense your thinking, there was a hesitant knock at your door.

“Come in,” you called out as you brushed used tissues onto your end table. Sirius entered, waving at you awkwardly.

“Can I sit here?” He pointed towards the blank spot on your bedsheets.

“I cleaned it off just for you.”

“How thoughtful.”

You tugged the blankets up to your chest as Sirius laid beside you. You continued to stare at the ceiling, feeling Sirius’s stare on you. You sighed; nothing good was about to come out of that boy’s mouth.

“Say what you’re gonna say, Sirius,” you whispered. “I know you didn’t come here to just check on me. Just spit it out-”

“Okay! Fine! I will!” You were taken aback by his abrupt change in demeanor. “You need a guy who shows up, love, and Ben is not doing that!”

You sat up and rolled your eyes. “Say what you really feel,” you shot under your breath.

“When are you going to see that you’re stuck dating a wall, (Y/N)? You have to know that you’re too good for him!”

“Oh, but I’m not too good for you? In fact, I must be just perfect for you!”

You weren’t exactly sure where those words came from, they just came. Maybe it was that drunken night he was dared to kiss you and you hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Maybe it was the way he acted more like a boyfriend than your own boyfriend had. Or maybe it was the way he gave you butterflies when he smiled. Maybe it was the way electricity shot up your spine he rested his hand on the small of your back. Maybe it was the way that you wished you never dated Ben in the first place, but rather dated Sirius but you were too damn stubborn to admit it, even to yourself.

“What are you on about?”

You rolled out of the bed and opened the door, hearing Remus and Peter scatter back to their rooms. “Leave.”

“But, I-”

“Please.”

You choked back a sob and Sirius then knew that he went too far. He got off of your bed and stumbled towards the door, pausing to look at you.

“I’m sorry-”

“I can’t help that I’m a hopeless romantic, Sirius. I want things to work out, and they will.”

“You’re wasting it on the wrong guy.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, mumbling an excuse as you shut the door in his face.

But, Merlin, was he right.

―

A week later, Sirius sat out by the pond that stood about 100 feet from your flat. He tossed a pebble in between his hands, debating what he could do to make it up to you.

Little did he know you were on your way to join him.

“Hey, Sirius.”

His eyes snapped up to yours and he began to grab his things to leave. “I was just heading out, actually-”

“We really need to talk.”

His heart sank into his stomach as his steps slowed to a stop. You picked up a rock and skipped it across the pond.

“I broke up with Ben, actually. You were right.”

Sirius tried to fight the feeling of excitement that rose up in his chest. “How did he take it?”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Really well, actually.”

“He didn’t respond yet?”

“No, he hasn’t responded.”

You let out a wry laugh and Sirius joined in, feeling some of the tension flood from his body. You picked up another rock and skipped it across the pond.

“Is it bad that I’m relieved?” you said, interrupting the silence. Sirius’ eyes went wide. You met his stare and he quickly attempted to save face by clearing his throat and picking up another pebble.

“I don’t think so. I think that you did the right thing.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.”

That sense of dread crept back into the forefront of Sirius’s mind as you picked up yet another rock.

“You know,” you began as you moved closer to Sirius, “my friends back home would always play this game; there was a little pond by our houses that we’d go to on weekends. We’d talk about whatever, but it was usually boys. So we developed a little tradition: you think of your crush’s name and you toss a rock across the pond. Depending on how many times it skips, your fortune with your crush would be told.”

Sirius eyed you skeptically. “Has it ever worked?”

“Merlin, no,” you chuckled. “But I’d still like to do it.”

He nodded dutifully as the both of you retrieved your rocks. You glanced up at Sirius, thinking of his name as you skipped it across the pond. It skipped two times before sinking, causing you to frown.

“What’s that mean?” Sirius asked.

“It means it’s not up to me anymore.”

Sirius snorted. “And you made these rules when you were a kid? That’s quite depressing.”

“Oh, shut up. Just skip yours.”

Sirius did as he was told, skipping the rock across the pond three times. You gasped before turning to him with a gentle smile.

“Three times? What’s that?”

“It means they fancy you back.”

He was thinking of you, who else would he be thinking of? But he couldn’t tell you that just because of some silly game you made up when you were a kid. There was no way you felt the same― you just got out a relationship!

Sirius smiled back at you, nodding with faint confidence. You nodded back and made your way to leave but Sirius wouldn’t let you.

The moment he had admitted that he wanted to kiss you back in school stirred in his mind like nothing else he knew. He thought about you constantly but he had to hide it. That was, until, that very moment. He couldn’t keep waiting.

“Listen, I can’t just kiss you like this!”

He grabbed you by the wrist and tugged you towards him, connecting your lips. You didn’t even hesitate to clasp your hands behind his neck, his own trailing over your body like a dying man to the prospect of life.

As you pulled away, both of you were panting messes. He rested his forehead against yours, placing a peck against your lips again.

“I meant something like that.”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black headcanon #sirius black x you #sirius black imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #fanfiction

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mentallydestroyedfemme · 3 years ago

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Fire On Fire Chapter Two~

Yet another chapter bc I wrote most of it during 2020 and am almost done writing the whole thing.

Again, taglist and story below the cut!

A few days later, she got a call from her dad on what was one of her few days off from the new job she had just landed. Her phone rang and she picked it up, answering in her usual way, hoping it was Toshinori calling to ask her if she wanted to hang out, as she was immensely bored. "Hello, Amyrilis residence, Amyrilis speaking!" Her father chuckled and said, "Hello, pup!" Amy lit up and it showed in her tone. "Hey, dad! It's not often that you call, what's up?" He replied, "Oh, not much on my end, but I heard that YOU almost got shot the other day and someone else had to save you!" Wry amusement entered the tone of Pro Hero Maverick, Amyrilis Visker's adopted father. Amyrilis sounded frustrated as she said, "Okay, WHERE ARE YOUR SPIES, I JUST WANNA TALK, I SWEAR!" Maverick chuckled and said, "One of my "spies" is one of your friends. Toshinori, I believe?" She sighed. "Of course. Send a cute boy to talk to me, then he tells you what I'm doing! The only thing that could be worse would be sending a cute girl my way." Maverick laughed at that. The conversation trickled down into small talk and catch up, then the call ended. And, as she had hoped, Toshinori had called to ask if she wanted to hang out.

A few months after that, Amyrilis and Toshinori were hanging out at the park nearby after snagging some food from a nearby burger joint. She almost had all the money she needed in order to get into a college, and she was pretty excited to finally finish her education. She had also recently fallen in love with Toshi, as she affectionately called Toshinori. She refused to ruin their friendship over something that might be one-sided. Toshinori might even be dating someone! Toshinori had led her to a spot in the park that was fairly secluded, not creepily so, but it was private. They were hanging out, talking and laughing, and then he asked a question seemingly out of nowhere. "Hey, Amy, can I ask you a question?" She looked over at him from the giant ass warm rock she was laying on and said, "Sure. What's up?" He was staring up into the trees. "So, Dave and I were talking the other day, and you came up. More accurately, the way I felt about you." Amy froze. "Okay?" He continued, "And, he told me I needed to talk to you about what I'm feeling." The whole time he was staring into the leaves in the trees and not looking over at her, and from what she could tell, he seemed... Tense, scared almost. "Alright?" He shifted a bit, still staring up into the leaves. "Would you be okay with me just laying it out for you?" She replied, slow and unsure and very confused. "Sure? Go ahead?" He shifted one more time, still staring into the leaves. There was a long pause from Toshinori, in which time there was a light breeze that rattled the green leaves above them, sending some flower petals and flowers down through the air, cascading down and into Amy's hair, almost giving her a dryad like air. After awhile, Toshinori spoke again.

"Ever since I met you, everything's been a little... Different." Amy nervously asked, "What kind of different?" Toshinori was quick to reassure her, "Not bad different, just... Different." He shifted again, as though uncomfortable. "Dave noticed it before I did. And he kinda had to point it out to me, which caused me no end of embarrassment. It led to a conversation that I kinda wish I could forget, it was that awkward." He let out an awkward chuckle, as though he were back in the awkward conversation. "And um... He told me to tell you myself or he would do it for me. And something tells me I wouldn't like the way he did it." Amy shifted a bit herself. "What did Dave notice?" She asked, worried that it could ruin all of her friendships at once. Toshinori sighed and said, "Uhhhh..." at the same time. "A few things, small enough that most people would miss it. Um..." He shifted again. "He noticed I was a little more quiet when you weren't there, he noticed how I would almost subconsciously look for you in a room, just a thousand and one little things that no one would notice unless they were looking for it." Amy shifted nervously again and asked the question that she was most afraid of. "What is it he was going to tell me that you wouldn't like it if he told me?" At Amy's nervous question, Toshinori shifted again and lapsed into an awkward silence. Amy looked into the trees again, trying to quell the feeling of her stomach trying to rebel and quiet the anxious yammering of her brain. Toshinori spoke again, feeling like he might be ending one of the most positive things in his life.

"I'm in love with you. I think I have been since the first time you made me laugh. God, the first time I made you laugh I had to stop myself from grabbing you and kissing you because I thought you wouldn't want me to, but god damn, you laugh and you smile and it makes my stomach flip out and my heart goes off like a jackhammer every time I see you and-" Amy had moved closer and gently grabbed onto his arm to get his attention. He looked up into her face, shocked to find the most openly hopeful and serious look he had ever seen on it. "You aren't fucking with me? Do you mean what you're saying? If you are fucking with me, Toshinori Yagi-" Toshinori brought his hand up and gently placed said hand on her face. "Amy, have I ever knowingly lied to you especially when things were serious? Would I ever fuck with you when it's something as serious as my loved ones?" He shifted and sat up and made her look at him, look him in his eyes. "Amy, I mean every fucking word. You mean everything to me, fuck, even Dave noticed what was going on, and he had to tell me what he saw before I even noticed!" Before he could go on, Amy's voice made itself heard, "I love you." If Toshinori hadn't seen Amy say those words, he wouldn't have believed she said it. Her voice came out so soft and small, so soft, so frail sounding, that it almost wasn't her voice. "Amy?" Her voice came out a little stronger this time, "I fucking love you, I have since the start of our friendship but I was scared I was gonna ruin our friendship and it was one of the few good things I have in my life, and I didn't want to lose you-" Toshinori leaned in and gently pressed his lips against hers, his heart acting like a jackhammer and simultaneously exploding with emotion. He pulled back after a moment then looked a bit embarrassed and having a small blush across his face. "Uh, s-sorry... I couldn't think of anything else to stop you from panicking. But I'm glad you feel the same way." Amy was staring intensely at Toshinori, her own face terribly flushed, and she asked him, "Could-could you kiss me again? Please?" Her voice carried an almost desperate tone, but, fuck, if it wasn't cute. Toshinori smiled, then he rumbled in answer, "Absolutely, babe." He shifted so she was in front of him with his arms wrapped around her and pulling her close to his chest. Her arms were pressed in between them, her hands on his chest, her face mere inches from his, her expression completely readable, and by god was she wanting to kiss him again. He looked deep into her eyes, the ones he had earned enough of her trust and love to know that her eyes were not green and blue, but blue and brown, and saw so much adoration and trust. It made his heart ache from how much he loved her in return. In a moment that seemed to stop time in it's entirety, his eyes closed and his lips gently pressed into hers again. Amy instantly melted into the kiss, her hands migrating into his soft blonde hair. They were lost in each other, lost in each other's scent, taste, the feeling of actually kissing the person that they were both in love with, lost in the absolute love they felt for each other. Neither one imagined that this would ever happen, finally being able to even have this moment with each other, but here they were. And neither one would trade it for the world. After they both ran out of air, they pulled apart, but only far enough to bask in each other's presence, Amy pressed up against Toshinori's chest and nuzzling her face into his jaw, Toshinori holding Amy close and nuzzling into Amy's hair, not wanting the moment to be over so soon.

Toshinori broke the silence by rumbling, "Tomorrow. There's a showing of an old American western. Let me take you on a proper date." Amy saw no real reason to disagree. "When will you be picking me up then, Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Gorgeous?" Toshinori laughed again and replied, "How about five so I can take you to dinner? I seem to remember there was an Italian place that recently opened that you wanted to try." Amy smiled and said, "Only if you take me to the first ice cream place that you took me to when we first met again." Toshinori chuckled and replied, "Deal." And pulled her into another kiss.

The next day, Amy was about to throw up. From anxiety, of course. This was her first ever date, and it was with the most perfect human being that Amy had ever met. Of course. Aaaaaaand she had no female friends to help her with all the girly things that came with the whole dating thing in the first place. Of fucking course. As five rolled closer, she showered, got out, and she frantically dug through her closet trying to find something appropriate for the date she was going on. She finally dug out a dress from her closet, worried about makeup, which, again, OF COURSE, she did not own, minus a thing of eyeliner and some lipstick for hero work. She did some eyeliner, not in the same way she did for Hero Work, but it was classy to some degree, and applied the lipstick. She pulled the dress on, a simple dark dress that looked like it was a galaxy print, and pulled her hair up into a simple bun. Luckily, she still had the shoes that matched the damn thing. After she cleaned up her apartment some, she looked over at the clock. 4:58 pm. She had two minutes to kill, so she finished cleaning up her apartment. Just as she finished cleaning up and finished putting the two things of makeup in her bag and finding her well worn leather jacket, she heard a knock at her door. She went over to her door and opened it. Framed by her apartment doorway was Toshinori with a bouquet of bloodred roses, her favorite flowers in a... Royal blue suit?! Where'd-

Toshinori was staring at her wide-eyed and slack jawed, a blush crossing his face. She looked gorgeous. He realized a moment later that she was talking to him and he tried to look like he hadn't been distracted by the way she looked. "Toshi, are you okay?" He replied, "I'm fine, I'm fine." He handed her the flowers and she set them in a vase that was always empty that she kept on the center of the table in an attempt to make the tiny shitty apartment look a little nicer when she did get flowers. As they left Toshinori finally managed to have enough courage to tell her she looked beyond stunning. It was Amy's turn to flush and attempt to stutter out a coherent sentence resembling a compliment. Toshinori chuckled as she turned and locked the door behind her. The rest of the date went smoothly, the small talk not really an issue as they had been friends before dating and knew each other really well beforehand. The movie they went to watch after dinner, which, in Amy's opinion, was fucking spectacular, had one scary scene that had Amy hiding her face in Toshinori's shoulder and Toshinori chuckling at her actions. And, of course, after the movie they went back to the ice cream place that they went to when their friendship started and got the exact same flavors of ice cream they got the first time, which made them laugh. They finished their ice cream at the same time they got back to her apartment. When Toshinori kissed her goodbye, the taste of mint and chocolate combining almost made her dizzy. That was when Amy decided chocolate and mint really were her favourite flavors of ice cream after all.

Taglist: @deleteddewewted @myhero-allmight @chaos-shipping

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north-peach · 4 years ago

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Whoops, lemme fic it (SW)

So I’ve been tossing this idea over in my head, daydreaming, wordbuilding and talking to myself and I’ve had enough.

It’s time to come out.

So, I tried the SI fic once and I didn’t like how it turned out and it was a good few years before wrote one again. There’s a lot of good ones, done by good authors. Silver Queen, Shadowblayze, Vixen Tail, and Mullk6 to name a handful.

But I wanted a character who knew the depth and breath of canon and could fix it. In Star Wars. With Mandalorians.

Which is usually a self insert, but....wasn’t feeling it.

Then it shifted to time travel. Main characters generally revolved around Bly, Aalya Secura, Quinlan Vos or Anakin, Rex and Alpha-17. Then it was a mix, sometimes Padme or Ahsoka, Jon Antilles or Fay, thanks to @blackkatmagic.

Then it was Boba Fett, Jango, Arla or Jaster even Tarre Vizsla. Korkie Kryze, a mix of his father’s ‘obi’ sound with ‘kote’ as in ‘glory’.

It’s been almost a month since this thought sprang from my head, exactly the opposite of Athena, but here it is.

My first Star Wars time travel fic.

Bly doesn’t wake, not for a long time.

Even if he is aware of the pressure against bare skin and the alternating temperatures that cause him to shiver or sweat to beat across his face.

He doesn’t wake to the snack, crack of the whip against his back, nor to the claws that rake across his face, but as the days pass, it is pain that draws him back from the dark.

The cold metal of manacles around his wrists, the dull throbbing of his knees against cool, packed dirt. He doesn’t move even as chains rattle and as a weak light flickers in tiny bursts even though he can’t quite open his eyes.

Bly takes a deliberate breath, deliberately breathing in long and slow.

Ribs, is his first immediate thought as pain now screams in his head, followed instantly by, back.

His arms are numb, lips cracked, throat and mouth dryer then Tatooine and it feels like someone’s poured sand in his eyes and then glued them shut.

We release our emotions, our pain into the Force. We breath it back in and then stand and carry on. Lives depend on us. The trick to keeping the pain away is it set it aside and ignore it. But you need to remember, Bly, pain is our body telling us we’re injured. You cannot ignore it forever.

It’s her voice in his head, the memories always there as soon as he tugs them and he barely muffles a noise in the shifting of his chains because the last thing Bly remembers is a fractured and shattered thing that provides nothing to help him determine his situation.

Beyond the obvious of captured, separated and tortured.

A breath, another and his fingers twitch as he tries to get his hands to response to his commands.

He moves his eyes, scrunching his face, and ignoring the sting of scabbed wounds and manages to crack his eyes open. He’s in a room, surrounded by stone and bars. An electrical lamp flicker erratically in a halo of barely there light in the distance.

No one is there. He is alone.

He listens, strains his hearing, yet nothing so much as stirs.

Bly goes back to restoring feeling in his body.

A minute, two and then an unpleasant rush of pins and needles as sensation returns to his arms. Bly grits his teeth and clenches his thighs, his legs then curls his toes under his feet, allowing his body weight to force him to rock back, using the momentum to stagger to his feet.

Lights prickle against what little vision he has and the chains jerk and rattle as he uses them as leverage to remain on his feet.

Pain bursts across his back, down his legs, his knees, every motion and contraction of his body, his muscles sends signals of agony to his brain.

“Osik.”

The word is almost soundless, hissed between clenched teeth and formed from harsh, gasping breaths.

Bly cannot help how his body curls over it self, even if it sends the blood rushing to his head and makes him even more dizzy. He braces his feet and refuses to pass out.

He doesn’t know where Aalya is.

He doesn’t know who he was with, what he was doing, if any of his vod’e are here, Bly doesn’t know anything.

He remembers blue and gold, the blue of Aayla’s skin, the gold of her eyes, maybe the blue of the 501st? Was General Skywalker on mission with them?

Was... was Vos there?

There’s nothing but a blank space in his head, so Bly puts that away for now and takes stock of what he has on hand.

Which is, in short, a big fat nothing.

He’s in loose pants, thin material, covered in dirt and blood, no shirt, no armor, no weapons- even the small tools disguised as a ring, bracelet- he’s got nothing.

It looks like he’s chained up underground in a cave somewhere. That’s the only explanation for both his surrounding and the relatively cool atmosphere. There’s a door that’s barely even a door, just a large rectangular slab of rusty bars almost propped against the entry way.

He could probably kick it open, depending on how heavy it was, but that was once he found a way out of his chains-

Bly pauses.

Looks up at the roof of his cell where the chains are anchored.

Well, he thinks, an edge of amusement to himself, If I can take my chains with me, I’ll have a weapon.

__________

Honestly, later, if someone asked how long he was stuck there in the murky darkness working and working to pull the anchor points of his chains from the ceiling, Bly wouldn’t be able to say.

He stops and rests when the injuries on his back crack open, spilling blood down his skin and dripping onto the floor, when his ribs scream at him and his breath wheezes as he desperately tries to breath.

He doesn’t ever stop for long though.

Eventually he gets free, the rest anchor breaking free of crumbling stone and Bly sinks to his knees, wincing as pain flares up again.

A moment of rest, to wait until his breathing slows down enough he can regulate it for sleath.

Then he carefully wraps his new weapon around his shoulders, winding them down his arms. Slowly, he makes his way to the door that is currently the only obstacle in his way to relative freedom.

It was heavy as it looked, but several solid shoves and one frustrated kick and the door was free enough for him to squeeze past it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about directions at the moment because his cell was located at the end of a hallway and the only way out was forward.

So forward Bly went, creeping along the walls on bare feet, moving steadily down to where a single light was valiantly, but ultimately failing at lighting up the area.

Bly took a breath and walked past, heading deeper into the caves with no way of knowing which way was out, if anyone was waiting for him on the other end or even if he could find a way out.

Bly didn’t care because right now, there was an entirely unacceptable amount of space between him and his General and it needed to be rectified, right karking now.

__________________

Times passes and Bly has to take a breather, has to sit to wait for his legs, his hands, everything to stop shaking even as chills crawled up his skin.

He keeps going, keeps following the eternal hallway he seems to be trapped in. Occasionally he’ll come across other cells, but like all of the ones he checked previously, there isn’t anyone in them. Just chains, manacles, shakes, crude stone tables or chairs.

The weak lights are not quite evenly spaced out, but every cluster of cells has one in the middle of the block. He’s sure he’s passed about six blocks by now, and still no sign of this hallway ending or branching off.

A part of him wonders if he’s hallucinating, but the continuous pain for his body begs to tell him differently.

He trails bloodstained hands against the wall and so far he hasn’t randomly circled back around so he must be making progress.

You were modified to see better in the dark? Compared to humans, or near-humans, Twi’leks vision is considered superior, but without the Force, I’m thinking you’d win at Hide-and-Seek-in-the-Dark.

My favorite color? Tell me, if I said blue wh- no, I’m kidding! It’s gold Bly. W- No, not like my eyes! Like Master’s-

Bly can hear Aalya sometimes.

The way she laughed, said his name or how she would stare at him. When her mouth softened and she smiled so easily.

Bly keeps going.

______

Hours? Maybe days later, Bly hears voices that are, for once, not his or in his head. A soft murmur, nothing clear enough to make out words or the like, but Bly grits his teeth and quickly lunges into the nearest cell and flattens himself in a natural curve of the walls.

He’s lost weight during how ever long he’s been here, so he folds himself easily into the shadows and evens his breath down, ignoring the ever familiar spasm of pain his ribs makes with every movement.

A beat, two, three, longer and still the voices only murmur.

Bly slows moves from his hiding place only to step right back into it as the voices abruptly rise in volume along with a feminine scream of pain that rings off the walls and is swallowed by the darkness that leads down to his cell.

Gently, Bly uncoils his chains.

______

When enough time passes he can make out the heavy footfalls of two armored being’s footsteps and the unmistakable sound of dragging feet, Bly closes his eyes and concentrates on his hearing.

“-Ne shab'rud'niÖ, aruetii-”

“-aruetyc dini'la-”

The sharp sound of metal against flesh, followed by a harsh vocalizer.

“Ne'johaa!“

A faint moan, before one of the men laughs.

See, the thing is Bly isn’t considered Mandalorian.

In fact, Manda’yaim considers Bly and his brothers to be abominations. Soulless things created in a lab. Not to mention General Kenobi’s Duchess is a pacifist in the very worst way.

A Mandalorian with a Mandalorian’s stubbornness, determination and pride to be anything but a Mandalorian.

Good intention’s Satine Krytze may have had at the beginning but erasing everything that makes Mandalor Mandalor was not the way to go about bringing peace to her people.

Especially since the Duchess had the final say on if the Clones of Mand’alor Jango Fett should be considered citizens of Manda’yaim. Or rather, she just enforces Prime’s opinion that clones were not real people and this couldn’t be a people or a part of a people.

Jango Fett may have been some high ranked Mandalorian in certain circles, but the only reason why the clones even knew the languages is because of the instructors who adopted the older batches and how those clones would teach one or two- like Kote who became Cody, who taught Ret who was now Rex.

The language and the customs spread from the clones who were actually wanted down to even the shiniest of shinies. Of course, there were parts of their culture that they developed all on their own.

Being modelled after a Mandalorian, of course, meant that they shared the same traditions and quirks that they did as a consequence of being so closely related.

The colors, symbols and naming to mention a few.

Colors all had meaning, as did their placement, the same with symbols and the bucket everyone wore. Working with the jetiise as closely as they did, their culture took bits and pieces that resonated with the Vod’e and as it did with everything, spread to all the battalions.

But when he hears a threatening form of behave, traitor followed by two words that mean ‘traitorous’ and ‘insane’ preceding what is clearly an armored fist making contact with someone’s bare skin, Bly’s already pretty sure who’s side he’s on.

That’s even before he sees the dusty blue and the gray of beskar in the dim lighting worn by two people dragging what looks like a teenaged girl between them.

Kyr’tsad.

Kriffing, karking-!

Bly untucks himself from the shadows and creeps up behind the two, careful to keep to the walls until he lunges forward, throwing one of his chains between target two’s legs even as he losses a coil of chains around target one’s neck and pulls back.

His ribs scream, his arms shake, but he drops his weight and wrenches the shabuir back, his legs kicking out the catch the small space between armor plates on Death Watch’s lower back to toss him over and behind.

Target the second is already dropping the girl, pale blonde hair visible in the gloom and reaching for a weapon at their belt.

Bly doesn’t give them the chance, jerking his chain back instantly compromising target two’s balance.

Barely ten seconds in this fight and both of them are on the ground. Target one is still choking with the chain around their neck and Bly keeps yanking it back to ensure they stays that way.

The other, Bly goes in for close combat, using his chain as bet he can with his shoulders and ribs kriffed up, but he manages to get enough wrapped around their legs and a single arm that he’s able to jab his fingers into the hollow of their throat and jerk their helmet off.

Eyes, nose, mouth, all places Bly can do some damage, but his strength is flagging so he slams his palm into their nose, once, twice, thrice until the shabuir goes limp.

One down, one to go.

Bly cracks the chain and sends the last stumbling even as he palms a vibroblade and uses the weight at the end of the chain the move himself close enough to-

Bly swings up, twists and lets dead weight fall where it may.

A moment, two, three before he breaths again, carefully, adrenaline pumping through his body. He pulls the chain taunt and swings the blade down. Metal chips, but doesn’t break do he does it again, again, again until it gives and all he’s left with is a manacle around his wrist.

The process repeats until he’s free from the weight of chains and he’s free. An arm carefully wraps around his chest as he struggles to breath, but he forces himself back up, to rifle through the utility belts and pockets to see what other weapons or rations he can find.

The first pocket he searches has a whole flask of water and he immediately takes small slow sips,

He coughs, the taste of iron lingering in the back of his throat, but already his day is starting to pick up. Setting the water back down, he turns his attention to the small body crumpled on the ground.

Gingerly he makes his way over, easing himself to the floor and reaching out a hand-

-before pausing.

All three of them spoke Mando’a. Even in the dim lighting, Bly can see all the bruises up an down the girl’s arms. So he opens his mouth to speak, only to cough, his entire body lighting up in pain as his ears start to ring.

It takes a minute, but when he stops, he carefully wets his lips and tries again.

“Hey, ade.”

Silence.

In the hallway, there’s only the sound of his strained breathing and her soft breaths.

Bly doesn’t know if she’s faking or not. Either way, he can’t afford to take any more injuries.

He coughs again, hunching over and unable to avoid the low groan of pain that crawls up his throat.

He does his best to breath, there in the dark with the girl either genuinely unconscious or faking it. Either way, the pain is distracting him and he’s going to need to sit there for a moment before he attempts any other movements.

Regardless he tries again and ignores how his voice cracks.

“I’mma...I’mma need you to wake up here, ad’ika.”

His back burns where he’s leaning against the wall and he can feel the blood begin to drip again. He doesn’t know how much he’s lost, how many times he’s reopened his wounds, but considering how lightheaded he is, considering how everything is starting to close in on him, it’s probably more then recommended.

The world blurs around the edges and his awareness drifts away for a bit. Somewhere, far away, it sounds like Aayla singing, her voice echoing with the 327th Star Corps.

_____

“Gar shuk meh kyrayc.“

Bly blinks back to awareness.

The girl knees in front of him, short blonde hair framing a pale face. Barely out of childhood, even if she looks like she’s in need of a few good meals.

Then the words register.

He can’t help the amusement that wells up and huffs a laugh he immediately regrets.

“Here,” the girl says as she shoves a fist in front of him.

He flinches back, before stilling himself.

The girl doesn’t react, just holds up the water flask in her other hand.

“It’s for the pain. The tall one carried them.”

A breath, then he reaches out, ignoring the shaking on his hands, to let the girl drop two small pills into his hands while shoving the water at him. More careful sips as the pills go mostly dry down his throat.

“Vor entye,” Bly rasps.

“Ba'gedet'ye,” she says, eyes running over his face, his chest, a wary twist to her mouth. “You’re no use dead.”

Unnecessary for her to repeat that, Bly thinks. Scared, but brave. His lips twitch as he runs a searching gaze over the girl.

Torn clothes, almost identical to his own, only with a shirt and less blood and dirt. Thin wrists, lank and greasy hair, coupled with even more bruises he can see blooming everywhere on uncovered skin.

Including her face, one cheeks which sports several colors that frame lines of dried blood and a split lip.

Gently, carefully, Bly lifts a hand and hovers in front of the injury. Not touching, close, but out of reach.

“And you?”

She blinks, startled. The barest hints of confusion crinkle her brow.

Bly smiles, letting his hand drop.

“Are you hurt, ad’ika?”

A touch of fire burns in her eyes.

“You’re bleeding.”

It’s almost an accusation, the words falling harshly from her mouth.

He acknowledges the point.

“Lek.” He continues, more solemnly, shifting his weight forward to meet her eyes, slowly enough that she doesn’t react beyond tensing her muscles. “But Kry’tsad is not known for being kind.”

Slowly, the girl shakes her head.

A moment of silence passes and the girl watches him. Bly gets his breathing back under control and deeply appreciates as the pounding in his head fades along with the burning in his shoulders and arms.

“By any chance, have you seen a blue Twi’lek in any of the cells you passed?”

“We are the only prisoners in this place. There are none who come here, save for the tall one and the cold one, both of which you killed.”

Bly studies the girl, the way the strain in her features eases as she talks about target one and two’s death, the audible note of gratitude.

“Tion gar gai?“

“What is yours?”

The response to his simple question is instantaneous, her tone now biting and wary. He doesn’t react, only lets amusement tug at his mouth.

“Bly-”

(“There is a name that Mandalorians use when they are disowned or cast out from their clan or family. Some chose this name as a way to seperate themselves on their own terms. Others have their names taken and are left with this.”

“Considering that Jango Fett doesn’t considering us real people let alone his ade, do we call ourselves this?”

A humorless laugh.

“You always were the one who never hesitated to go for the throat, Kote.”)

“-just Bly.”

“Arla.”

Not a familar name, even if there’s something about her face that reminds him of- reminds him.

“Let’s get out of here, okay, Arla?”

The barest hints of a smile as Bly hauls himself to his feets and then turns once he can speak without screaming or making any other noises of pain, and holds out his hand.

Arla hesitates to reach out, before glancing over to the bodies.

“Can I have the blaster if you have the vibroblade?”

“How about we see if there’s another vibroblade you can carry and I’ll take the blaster?”

______

A more thorough search of the bodies produces another vibroblade, a small holdout blaster (which Arla claims), a large blaster (which Bly claims) rations, two lights that work and a new set of clothes and armor for Bly.

He makes Arla turn around while he strips the corpse of the tall one, a.k.a. target one and pulls on the armor under suit, which helpfully compresses his ribs and then begins to strap on armor.

“Were you conscious enough to see how many people there are in these caves?”

Arla’s voice is soft, but it carries well as she immediately goes into an information download.

“We came on a ship, just the three of us. There is no one else here. It’s supposed to be so secure that it doesn’t matter if you manage to escape, there’s no where else to go. Plus someone always comes to check every couple of days. Which is when, if they want you to live, you get food and water. This is where you get thrown when they want you to rot away and die in the dark.”

Bly hums, carefully clicking vambraces into place, pleasure briefly rising up in his chest at the decent fit.

“And the war?”

Arla pauses.

“I haven’t- They kept most of the information away from me, but sometimes I managed to hear things. Like how Kry’tsad has a sky in Mand’alor Mereel’s camp and how they’re planning how to lead them into a trap and kill them all in such a way to send a message.”

Bly blinks, as he finishes up with tugging the last piece in place.

“Mand’alor Mereel?”

Arla makes an agreeing sound.

“Someone let slip they’re calling him Mand’alor the Reformer. Vizsla gets really angry when he hears that.”

Mand’alor Mereel.

Jastor Mereel?

On getting access to the holonet, one of the first things the Vod’e who were interested in Mandalorian history looked up was the state of leadership. Kote was certain that he wanted to see who decided that they weren’t citizens despite being from a Mandalorain.

Jaster Mereel was the father of Jango Fett, before he died on Korda 6 twenty something years ago!

Bly took a breath, before spitting out a curse in Twi’lek, follow up by a very vehement “Force osik!”

Arla didn’t say anything when Bly walked up behind her, only stared to stare, distaste clear in the disgust on her face.

“Needs must, ad’ika. I need to find someone and the easiest way off this haran place is on the Death Watch ship you came in one. Which”, Bly slid the helmet on, the HUB automatically pulling up and activating night vision. “Will be a thousand times easier which me pretending to be Kry’tsad.”

Again, he held out his hand.

“Ba'slanar.”

A smile, small, but undeniably there as clearly seen by the display screen in his buy’ce.

Arla took his hand.

_________

The climb out of haran was nothing to sneeze at, but they made it. Upon exiting, Bly couldn’t help the noise of appreciation he made at the sun setting into the distance. Or rising. Either or. It wouldn’t matter in a few minutes as they would be leaving the planet, deserted and rocky as it was, it offered no appeal in water or wild growing plants.

The ship was there, ramp still down and Bly gently tugged Arla along, right into the ship and take that, General Skywalker!

Plan A, accomplished with only a minor deivation.

Minus the either confused youngling or the apparently very real possibility of time travel.

Aayla was still missing and Bly still had no idea if anyone else was missing or if it was him that was missing and not everyone else. For all he knew, this was something that only affected him and Aayla was completely fine.

Surrounded by the 327th and the 501st, plus droids.

Bly quickly ran through each and every room in the ship, Arla right behind him, gripping her vibroblade, clearing each space before moving on to the next one.

Cargo, armory, kitchen, berths, cockpit and a decent sized corner with padded seats and tables.

Bly also ran a lifesigns sweep from the main computer before he was satisfied. It wasn’t a large ship, but it could comfortably accommodate three to four people so it would be perfect for them.

He holstered the blaster and quickly ran through flight check before initiating the start up sequence.

Arla quickly strapped herself into the co-pilots chair, unable to contain the trains of excitement painting itself all over face.

Ramp up, engines fired, all systems green, Bly slowly poured power into the system and the ship lifted off this karking planet, landing gear folding up and away.

Before he turned around to launch into the atmosphere, he quickly toggled the weapons system, loaded up a missile and fired it without hesitation into the mouth of his former prison.

The resulting explosion of stone, dirt and fire would go a long way to ease nightmares for the next weeks.

Once they cleared the atmosphere, Bly carefully used the HUD to change all teh passwords, security settings and just generally switched out who the ship’s computer’s answered to before tugging it off and gently running a hand through his tangled hair.

“Well, ad’ika. I’ve no place to be, but frankly I could use a shower. How about you?”

Arla look up and smiled, eyes wet.

“Shower and food first. Then we find our people.”

The knot of worry in his chest eased somewhat at the assurance that now he was able to begin his efforts to find out if Aalya made it along with him and if any others did.

“Her name is Aalya,” Bly says, longing heavy in his voice. “I don’t remember much, but if she’s out there, I’ll find her.”

Arla, stands, equal height with him before holding out her hand. She wait unti Bly takes it before speaking.

“Arla Fett. I’m looking for my brother Jango. He should be with Mand’alor Jaster Mereel and the Haat Mando’ade.”

_______________________

....so uh. When I sat down like............................five hours ago I did NOT mean to write chapter one of fic. I guess I did though so....eh. I’ll go polish it up and post it on ao3

#star wars #arla fett #jango fett #bly #aalya secura #bly x aayla #time travel #fic #ficclet #chapter one #fanfiction

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uwua3 · 4 years ago

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drivers license.

🍁📸 fushimi omi

summary: omi receives his license and goes to the cemetery to celebrate

warnings: angst, anxiety, arguments, car crashes, driving, family trauma/issues, grieving/mourning, major character death/parental death

author’s note: if you are going through the loss of a loved one, please remember you will always have people in this world who support and love you endlessly ♡ you are not alone and you will make it through. i believe in you with all my heart—i cannot tell you it’s okay, but i can tell you it’ll get better. please keep trying, it’ll be worth it. i hope you wake up tomorrow with a lighter heart, i love you

this is not romantic! this is a headcanon i have of omi’s family history as he only lives with his father and two brothers (ＴｗＴ。) thank you!!!

word count: 2,619

music: drivers license – olivia rodrigo

I GOT MY DRIVER’S LICENSE LAST WEEK

JUST LIKE WE ALWAYS TALKED ABOUT

‘CAUSE YOU WERE SO EXCITED FOR ME

TO FINALLY DRIVE UP TO YOUR HOUSE

Omi was the first person to pass his driver’s license test in his family.

His father wasn’t getting any younger, so his hands were hesitant and shaky every time they hovered over the stick shift. The buttons out of the corners of his eyes were much too confusing for his old brain so Omi’s father insisted on walking everywhere. As he grew older, the Fushimi household reached a compromise of taking public transport during the weekdays.

Omi’s two younger brothers weren’t old enough. They were still in their early preteen years, so getting behind the wheel wasn’t a legal option. As the oldest son, Omi took it upon himself to get into a four-wheeler and figure out all the tricky mechanics for himself. Hours and hours passed borrowing his friend’s vehicle, spinning around in circles in abandoned parking lots, and studying road laws.

When Omi learned all by himself and paid for it with his own money, his father clapped his shoulder with his usual proud smile and congratulated him.

The leather beneath his father’s wrinkled hands suddenly felt like skin, as if he could see right through him. When Omi took a moment to take a deep breath in, he closed his eyes and could almost see a younger version of his father. A father that wouldn’t be so close to retirement, that wasn’t so fragile and slow.

What did his father see? Could he see Omi was still the little boy sitting in the backseat all those years ago?

“That’s my boy! You’re just like your—” Omi didn’t want to hear the rest of the sentence, so he hurried upstairs and left his father alone in the corridor. Sometimes, he regrets it. But, most times, Omi’s glad he didn’t stay.

Whenever Omi got into a car after that, he sometimes still heard it in his head.

Omi knew he was like his mother.

BUT TODAY I DROVE THROUGH THE SUBURBS

CRYING ‘CAUSE YOU WEREN’T AROUND

YEAH, TODAY I DROVE THROUGH THE SUBURBS

‘CAUSE HOW COULD I EVER LOVE SOMEONE ELSE?

The first thing Omi did after receiving his license was visit his mother.

The car wasn’t preferable by any means, but it did its job. The seat creaked every time Omi had to adjust it, the air freshner didn’t make anything better, and there was no possibility that the air conditioning worked. But, the windows rolled down all the way, the wheels rarely ran out of air, and the car door only jammed sometimes. At the red light, Omi shifted and heard the crease of his jacket.

Omi didn’t know why he still wore it. Those days were long past him now, but the aged material made this whole experience a little easier. Before Omi could let himself reminicse, the light turned green and Omi automatically pushed forward.

Check the rear-view mirror. Two hands on the wheels at all time. Eyes on the road. Pay attention to stop signs. Be aware of everything around you. Omi repeated this again and again until the GPS on his phone announced he reached his location. Parking carefully, Omi let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding until everything stopped moving.

Picking up the small bouquet of flowers on the passenger’s seat, Omi locked his car and nodded at the security guard at the gates.

“Hi, Ma.” Omi said, pausing at a worn-down grave with the same flowers as last time.

“I got my driver’s license last week.”

AND I KNOW WE WEREN’T PERFECT

BUT I’VE NEVER FELT THIS WAY FOR ANYONE

AND I JUST CAN’T IMAGINE

HOW COULD YOU BE SO OKAY NOW THAT I’M GONE?

Omi sat besides her, leaning his head upon the cold grey stone. Like her tombstone, she was always strong, resilient, and offered a shoulder to cry on. Omi shuddered and wrapped an arm around the grave, as if she was still here.

“I did it.” Omi breathed and closed his eyes shut, hearing the distant rumbling of a thunderstorm. Even though Omi knew he should’ve left to get ahead of the rain, his legs were too weak. He couldn’t move without feeling like he was going to crash and burn.

“Ma... it was so hard.” Omi finally admitted to himself, squeezing the plastic of the bouquet in his hands and distracting himself with the crinkle. “Every time I sat in the driver’s side, I thought of you. I was... I’m so scared.”

Silence, before a clap of thunder. Omi flinched, hiding his face in the grey. “You were such a good driver, you followed every single rule. You should’ve been the one to teach me...”

Omi hated this feeling, like he was selfish for wanting his mother to be here with him. But, he knew he was right. Omi shouldn’t have had to suffer through panic attacks by himself. Make close calls with no one by his side. Balance school, work, family, and driving every single day. Omi could feel the exhaustion in his bones, as if he was the one who was dead.

“Pa couldn’t. Ever since...” Omi didn’t dare relive the tragedy. All he could bear was the inhumane screams, shattering glass, and alarms of the ambulance from miles away before snapping back to reality. “... the accident, he’s been so, so sad.”

It was an under-statement to say the Fushimi boys were struggling. Losing a parent didn’t hurt just emotionally, but financially as well. As Omi’s father picked up more shifts, more and more of that money went to medical bills that should’ve been years down the line.

“Your boys miss you so much. I miss you, so much. You would’ve been so proud... just like Pa. He said—” Omi’s voice cracked and he hated himself for it. Pulling the jacket tighter, Omi winced as the sudden gust of wind chilled his spine. The leaves rustled unceremoniously and Omi wished he could fly away, too.

“I’m just like you, Ma.” Placing the small flowers at the base of her grave, Omi read the faded engraving upon the surface until his vision was clearer.

Omi moved onto the next grave without a goodbye, because he’s had too many of those in this lifetime.

GUESS YOU DIDN’T MEAN WHAT YOU WROTE IN THAT SONG ABOUT ME

‘CAUSE YOU SAID FOREVER, NOW I DRIVE ALONE PAST YOUR STREET

After visiting his mother and Nachi, Omi returned to his car. It looked nothing like the car he almost died in. Back then, that car was big enough to hold a family of five snugly. Now, Omi’s car didn’t need all that room. His father would never get back into a car ever again, and his brothers could just sit in the back.

Resting his hand upon the car door, Omi didn’t have the heart to open it. Going inside meant driving home; driving home meant seeing his father flinch whenever the car pulled into the driveway. Driving home meant preparing dinner, making sure the boys did their homework, giving Pa his proper medications, doing homework, and barely sleeping. Going home meant being mom.

As the rain began to pour, Omi didn’t move. Soaked and unable to distinguish if he was crying or just stupid, Omi hung his head and let the water run over him. Was this his Ma’s way of crying for him? Omi didn’t want to know.

Omi finally yanked open the car door when a pair of glowing headlights passed by him. He nearly missed the splash of a puddle by his feet as Omi started the engine. Something was wrong. The usual ignition wasn’t audible and the lights barely illuminated the darkening path. Omi sat in the driver’s side with frustration that’s been growing ever since the car accident.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Omi swore, kicking the floor uselessly as he lifted his fist to hit the surface. Before he could slam his hand down, Omi sighed and simply hit the dashboard lightly at the last second. He had spent far too much money only to pay for repairs later on.

Omi pulled out his phone and checked, only to see no bars and no signal. Omi was cold, shivering, and crying in a cemetery and he had never felt more alone.

AND ALL MY FRIENDS ARE TIRED

OF HEARING HOW MUCH I MISS YOU, BUT

I KINDA FEEL SORRY FOR THEM

‘CAUSE THEY’LL NEVER KNOW YOU THE WAY I DO

Omi bought his first car after saving for months.

He honestly didn’t have to. Leaving behind the delinquent life meant making good friends. Friends that didn’t start fights, disobey the law, or be at risk of being put behind bars. Therefore, Omi had a friend that was willing to just give him a car.

“Come on, this is our gift to you. You don’t have to worry about this!” Omi’s friends insisted, trying to push the keys into Omi’s tight fists. No matter how much pressure was put upon him, Omi never faltered, just like stone.

“I’m sorry, but I... can’t take this.” Omi guiltily rejected the brand-new car. It was a model only rich people drove, the same exact demographic his friend was apart of. It was freshly washed with the proper tags and everything. Omi could’ve just taken it and saved thousands of dollars.

Except, he couldn’t. The car by no means was a vehicle he sat in before. But, the white color was the same. If Omi wasn’t paying attention, maybe he could ignore it. Yet every time he saw the exterior, it brought him back to that rainy day, desparately fumbling to rip off his seatbelt and wake his mother up.

“Omi... you can’t afford to say no...” They sympathetically tried to reason with him, but Omi was far gone. He backed up, nearly tripping with how hurriedly he stepped on his own heels. If he blinked, he could see the new car wrecked. If he didn’t focus, he could hear the sickening sound of the brakes failing.

“Omi, it’s been years since she—”

If he let himself get consumed by the past, he’d surely die.

“Thank you for this, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Omi bought a car a week later and when his father asked about price, Omi lied through his teeth.

“My friends saved up and bought me one for my birthday. Don’t worry, Pa. We can make the bills.”

Even when his friends sold it and tried to give him the money, Omi didn’t take it. His mother didn’t raise her son to take money from anyone.

Like mother, like son.

TODAY I DROVE THROUGH THE SUBURBS

AND PICTURED I WAS DRIVING HOME TO YOU

Omi left the windshield wipers on, watching as the rain drops got caught in the way. The heating wasn’t functioning, so Omi huddled in on himself and waited for some sort of sign that he could make it home tonight. The radio crackled every now and then, making Omi jump every time a voice spoke a word before getting cut off.

The world continued on as Omi lived through another rainy dark sky. Omi remembered staring up at this type of sky, his back laid out on a stretcher and hand reaching for the closest family member. Omi mentally punched himself, finding that he was getting caught up in his own trauma much more often than usual. Ever since driving lessons.

When it got too much to handle, the assignments, the expectations, the pressure, Omi indulged in make-believe. Omi imagined an universe where he was driving home to be welcomed by the warm embrace of his mother. Where his father was standing taller, where his brothers left their rooms on their own accord, where he wasn’t the backbone of the household anymore. It didn’t do him any good to hope for something impossible, but Omi did so anyways sometimes.

Perhaps it was his punishment for not being the one who died that night.

As Omi swiped mindlessly through his phone, willing for a bar, a crack of lightning made his skin crawl. Yet, beneath the pounding rain, a single yell of shock alerted Omi to look up from his screen. A deep sense of familarity forced Omi to look past his window, hoping to see past the blurriness of it all.

At the sight of a dark frame, Omi didn’t think twice before hurdling him outside, barely able to close his door before stripping his jacket and throwing it around the man. The shivering man weakly holding onto an umbrella that did nothing but cause more problems.

“Pa?! What are you doing here?”

RED LIGHTS, STOP SIGNS

I STILL SEE YOUR FACE IN WHITE CARS, FRONT YARDS

CAN’T DRIVE PAST THE PLACES WE USED TO GO TO

‘CAUSE I STILL FUCKING YOU LOVE YOU, BABY

“Son!” Omi’s father happily greeted despite being on the verge of catching a cold. Omi held the umbrella over his father’s head, taking the brunt of the cold willingly.

“I took the bus here. I knew you’d be visiting her today, but it was quite late.” He explained, wearing a newsboy cap that he must’ve had since youth. The sight of his father with a runny nose and wet clothes at his expense set something off in Omi.

“Why did you come?”

“To bring you home—”

“What would’ve happened if you died?”

The sound of rain was defeaning. Omi’s father stopped, staring at his son like he was seeing him for the first time. Omi’s arm started shaking, his grip on the umbrella’s handle was slacking. The truth weighed upon his shoulders, like he was about to collapse.

What if the bus had crashed? What if something happened to Pa while walking to the cemetery? What if it was Omi’s fault? Before Omi could apologize, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders.

Omi dropped the umbrella.

SIDEWALKS WE CROSSED

I STILL HEAR YOUR VOICE IN THE TRAFFIC, WE’RE LAUGHING OVER ALL THE NOISE

GOD, I’M SO BLUE, KNOW WE’RE THROUGH

Omi couldn’t die.

Not when he raised his weak father that wasn’t getting any younger. He had to take care of his two younger brothers. Omi had to finish university, graduate, and be hired at a high-paying job to support his family. Fushimi Omi couldn’t die.

But, here he was, breaking.

“My boy, I’m not going anywhere.” Omi’s father said it so surely, like it was a promise he could control. Omi hesitated before resting his chin on his father’s shoulder, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of cologne. It was the brand his mother used to love, but he knew his father hated this one. It was so fitting, Omi refrained from crying.

“You’re so strong, I’m so proud of you.” Omi nodded, hugging his father with unsaid words he’d never be able to speak. Omi could never tell him his greatest fear was Pa dying. Could never admit that seeing his father react a second late makes him pace. Could never reveal he only went to university close-by in case an emergency occurred. Everything Omi did was for his father, his Pa, his only parent.

“She’d be so proud of who you are today. You are her son.” Omi’s father patted him once, twice, then pulled back. He rested his aged palm upon Omi’s cheek gently, just like his mother used to. His thumb ran over his scar with no judgment, just fatherly love.

Omi had never felt more loved.

‘CAUSE I STILL FUCKING YOU LOVE YOU, BABY

“You’re just like your mother, Omi.”

#fushimi omi #omi fushimi #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! one shots #act! addict! actors! one shots #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! omi #a3 omi

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iidascalves · 4 years ago

Text

New transfer (Momo x F! reader)

Hello!!! Lately I’ve been in my gay feels so I wrote this up. After seeing Momo in the most recent chapter, I couldn’t resist. I LOVE HER!! Anyway, I hope everyone is good haha. If there’s something you’d like to see please send me an ask :) I kind of liked writing this so if I’m bored in the future I might do a part two.

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

The cold air of September ran through the station, getting chillier as your train eased to a stop. You played your music and shuffled onto the train along with other commuters. The plastic of your phone case only insulated the heat on your clammy palms. You were haunted by anxiety and anticipation for your arrival at UA.

You were a transferring from another, less popular hero school in the Ito prefecture. The reason for your transfer was that both your teachers and parents believed that UA would better suit your education needs. You were not only top of the class, but also in possession of a very powerful quirk that you developed and honed at an incredible pace.

Your quirk was essentially the ability to manipulate metal. You called it ‘metal’ and chose the hero name ‘Hardware’. Your quirk was useful not only in an urban setting but almost anywhere. If there is a substance that is classified as a metal, you have control of it. Because of your quirk, you took the UA entrance exam by storm. Your parents first recommended this transfer when you showed them you could move the iron in your blood. You made one of your fingers turn blue in order to show them your new trick. Instead of impressed reactions and praise you were met with fear. Despite how much they loved and cared for you, they couldn’t help but fear what they weren’t ready to understand.

Their unwillingness to adapt to change also prompted you to avoid coming out to them. You knew you liked girls. And that was something you were okay with keeping to yourself, for now.

You pulled out an earbud to listen to what stop was approaching. You recognized the name and got ready to depart. You loved your phone and headphones into your backpack and clenched the straps. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this nervous.

The new term started a week ago. Despite the work they sent you, you would still be behind on lessons. You had no idea who your classmates were and if they would even like you. Probably not. Would you get bullied? Are the other kids stronger than you? Will you be the weakest? Was this a mistake?

Your thoughts swarmed as you were carried off the train by the crowd of commuters. Before starting up the sidewalk you took an envelops out of your bag. It contained your class information, directions, and your UA student ID. You stuffed the envelope under your arm and booked it to UA. You were told to get there early so the teacher could give you a run down of things. You tried to focus on your surroundings instead of your worries.

Before long you could see looming blue archway. The gold letters ‘UA’ glittered in the early morning sun. You spotted three figures waiting for you at the enterance. Curiosity caused your footsteps to quicken.

The three spotted you as you approached and one came barreling towards you in a terrifying speed walk. “You must be our new classmate. Please allow me to introduce myself! My name is Iida Tenya and I am the class president of class 1-A.” His booming voice and large stature made you flinch. “I look forward to working with you!” He did a rigid bow to you and straightened up immediately. You swallowed tensely before carefully replying.

“My name is (L/n) (F/n). I look forward to working with you.” After you returned his bow your eyes moved to the other two figures accompanying him. There was a ragged looking man who seemed severely sleep deprived. You recognized him as the hero Eraserhead.

The sight to his right made your breath hitch. She was easily one of the most beautiful girls you had ever seen. She already was smiling at you kindly. Her dark eyes twinkled in an inviting and charming way. Her hands were folded in front of her, resting on her skirt. You could hardly take your eyes off her. Your heart kept as her melodic voice flowed from her welcoming smile.

“My name is Yaoyorozu Momo. I’m the vice- president of class 1-A.” She bent at the waist to give you an elegant bow. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you.” Her posture returned to the polished way she was standing before. You wiped your damp palms on your skirt and took a sharp inhale of courage.

“(L/n) (F/n).” You returned her bow as a way to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Thank you for your warm welcome.” Upon straightening back up you were greeted with her bright smile. You were planning on staring at it forever when Eraserhead spoke up.

“We spoke through e-mails but we haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Aizawa. I’ll be your teacher.” His posture was relaxed. With his hands in his pockets and his posture slouched. “Yaoyorozu will give you a tour of the dorms tomorrow when you move in. Today we will introduce you to campus and the rest of your classmates.”

“Thank you, Sensei.” You bowed to him and he nodded in return.

“Let’s get into the school. Other students should be getting here soon.” Aizawa started towards the elaborate building and left you, Tenya, and Momo to trail behind. Your head tilted up to gaze at the full height of the massive school building.

————————————————————

“Class. As you’ve noticed we have gained a new student. We’ll do quick introductions and then get into classwork.”

Aizawa shuffled from behind the podium and retreated to his desk. Upon sitting down he draped a yellow sleeping bag around his shoulders and watched you walk up the isle to the podium. The eyes of your classmates made your cheeks ignite. Your sweaty hands gripped the sides of the podium as you tried to find a way to speak through the knot in your throat. You scanned your new surrounding and met the eyes of Yaoyorozu. Her soft smile melted your worries. There was something so calming about her presence that even a look from her provided you with assurance.

“My name is (L/n) (F/n). I’m originally from the Ito prefecture but transferred here after the first semester of my old school. I look forward to meeting you all.” You have a small bow to your new classmates.

“What’s your quirk?” Your eyes snapped to the blonde haired guy in the back who practically growled the question at you.

“I can manipulate metal.” You weren’t sure how to respond. This seemed to satisfy the angry bastard.

“Sounds weak.” He slouched further into his seat and smirked. Tenya swiveled in his chair and outfield a stiff hand towards the boy.

“Bakugou- kun. Please have some respect for our new peer.” Tenya seemed tense. Was this guy always this exsausting?

“Just calling em’ like I see em’.” He shifted his slumped posture. You didn’t care what else he had to say and made your way to your seat. “Not even gonna argue.” He muttered.

You heard the noise of a small shuffle as Momo turned in her seat towards Bakugou. “How do you know her quirk is weak if you’ve never seen her in action?”. Momo waited for a reply.

Bakugou scoffed and looked out the window. Momo pointed herself forward. She then turned to you and you gave each other a bright smile.

After she faced the board once again you felt your face turn red. ‘That was…. kind of hot…’ You thought to yourself.

Your heart fluttered over the image of her smile as it replayed in your head the rest of the class period.

Once the bell rang, you knew lunch was next on the schedule. Due to your anxiety of the first day, you had memorized your schedule. You picked your bag up from the floor and scooted your chair out. A small elbow appeared on your desk. A classmate was leaning on your desk, head propped up on his elbow. His smug face was accompanied by greasy purple hair that looked like balls stuck to his head.

“Can I help you?” You asked. He kept eyeing you. You rose from your seat and slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Looking for a boyfriend? Don’t worry about not being my type. I like all kinds of girls.” He winked at you. You felt your face contort with disgust.

You were so appalled all you could muster out was “Ew.” Your response brought tears to his eyes and he retreated to the back of the classroom.

“Oh, (L/n)-san. Don’t mind him.” You heard Momo’s angelic voice from beside you. “Want to come eat with me an some of the girls? I’ll introduce you to them better.” Her radiant smile gave you no option but to say yes.

“Yeah! I’d love to. Thanks Yaoyorozu -san.” You gave her your best smile.

————————————————————

After a long first day, you had to go home and rest up for your move- in day. You still had to try to remember everyone’s names.

Because of your unfamiliarity with the area, you still had out your directions from this morning.

“(L/n)-san!” Your head turned to the source. It was Momo. “How was your first day?” She fell into step beside you.

“It went much better than I expected. You were a huge help, of course.” You noticed her cheeks held a hint of pink and her face wore an excited smile.

“It’s the least I could do! It’s part of my role as the vice- president, after all. Did you enjoy meeting the others?”

You had not only met the girls during lunch but a few of the guys as well. Many were kind enough to come up and say hello. Kirihsima and Shoji offered to do the heavy lifting for you tomorrow. And the girls promised you a welcome dinner with boardgames and a movie.

“Everyone is so nice. Thanks for introducing me.” Her smile grew warmer and she slowed to a stop. You paused and stood beside her.

“I’m so glad your first day went well. I’ll give you my number in case you need anything.” She fisted around in her backpack for a slop of paper and scribbled her number. She held it out to you and met your eyes with a warm smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow for your move in day. I have to head back to the dorms now.”

“Thanks for your help, Yaoyorozu- san.” The paper was clenched gently in your fist as you smiled at the beautiful girl in front of you.

“Please call me Momo!” She waved her hand as to say ‘no big deal’. She made your heart flutter.

“Sure thing! And please call me (y/n).” You stood for a second, just beaming at each other. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Momo.”

“See you tomorrow, (y/n).” While waving goodbye, you watched her turn around and walk further onto campus to the dorms. A wave of happy excitement flew through your body in anticipation of seeing her again.

#bnha x reader #momo yaoyorozu #momo yaoyozoru x reader #momo x f!reader #mha x reader

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birdybirp · 4 years ago

Text

Dye Together

Based on a conversation in a Discord days ago. Copia loses a bet and goes to Fae for help.

Totally SFW, just cutting for length.

Once a year, the Church of Emeritus holds a charity drive. It’s a chance for the higher ups to rub elbows with benefactors and get fatter checks to fund the church for another year and beyond. Each parish had their own week of fundraising festivities, but the main abbey went all out. Events, parties, auctions. It was like a small carnival had taken up residency in the church’s walls and everything was bustling with activity.

While everyone else was having fun, though, Fae was stuck in her workshop.

Papa II had acquired a painting to use as an auction piece for the final gala held on the last night of the drive: Arthur Fischer’s Satyr Satisfies Nymph, confirmed to be the original. Fae did not understand how he got his hands on it, but she was now in charge of restoring damage that it had sustained since its creation in 1900.

Not only did she have the stress of restoring an original historical painting, Fae had also been painstakingly restoring a tongue inside a woman’s vagina for the last two hours. But that was fine. Everything was fine. She’s a professional, and it’s no big deal.

She covered all the windows in her workshop just to be on the safe side.

Fae was trying very hard to focus on the colors and not the content of the painting, blaring music from her workshops’s speakers to keep her mind from wandering too much. She had to get this done by the next evening. If she got distracted by her own embarrassment, she wouldn’t get done in time.

“Excuse me, Sister?”

“Ack!” Fae jumped at the voice that shouted over her music. The sudden movement caused her brushes and stool to topple onto the cement flooring with loud clatters. She steadied herself to see Cardinal Copia standing in her doorway. She had forgotten to lock her door.

Flushing the same red as her hair, Fae turned her easel away from the Cardinal’s eyes and scrambled to grab the remote off her table and turned off the music.

“Cardinal, hello!” Fae tried her best to sound chipper and not like she was so nervous that she was short of breath.

“I apologize,” Copia murmured, also looking a little embarrassed. “I knocked, but I don’t think you heard.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I shouldn’t be playing my music so loudly.” There was a pregnant pause between them, both of them shifting back and forth on their feet anxiously.

“Do you need something?” Fae prompted.

“Ah, yes,” Copia pulled himself together and his voice shifted to the more proper tone he used during mass.

“I require your assistance for something, Sister.” Copia started.

“Of course, how can I help?” Fae agreed immediately. She would say yes to almost any request within reason, but that was especially true if the cardinal asked her.

“Well, you see,” nervousness crept back into his voice. “You’re aware of the charity event, yes?” Fae nodded. “You dye your hair, correct?”

Fae blinked at him. Her fire engine red hair was the farthest thing from natural, so the question didn’t even need to be asked.

“Uh, yes,” Fae nodded, seeing he was pausing for an answer.

“The upper clergy always offer silly rewards for certain fundraising milestones,” Copia explained. “This year I agreed to, uh, dye my hair for the gala if we raised a certain amount by a certain time and it appears we have done just that.” Copia trailed off and coughed awkwardly.

“And...?” Fae prompted, feeling like she knew where the conversation was going but didn’t want to assume.

“And I was wondering if you would be able to... help?”

“Help dye your hair?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’ve never done it before and I’d rather not pay to have it done because I’ll want to change it back as soon as possible.” He glimpsed the easel just to Fae’s right. “But if you’re busy with work, I don’t want you to trouble yourself.”

“Oh, no, no trouble at all.” Fae insisted. “The layers I just painted need to dry, anyway.” A lie, but she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity for quality time with Copia. They had been speaking more often lately, and she had found herself looking forward to time she could spend with him. In a purely platonic way, she assured herself.

“Thank you,” Copia was relieved. “I would ask the ghouls to help, but I’d much rather be in the hands of someone I completely trust.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Fae smiled and ignored the way his words made her heart feel. She righted her stool and sat down, gesturing for Copia to sit in another chair across from her. ‘So, what’s the plan?” she asked.

“Plan?” Copia echoed her, confused.

“Yeah, what color are you dying it? Do you want to bleach it first?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it...” Copia muttered, fingers anxiously tapping on the table in front of him.

“So you don’t have anything?” Fae asked, and he shook his head. She glanced at the clock on her workshop wall. It was getting late and a lot of places would be closed. “Do you want to do this tonight?” If they could postpone until the morning, they’d be able to pick something up.

“My schedule is entirely filled tomorrow, right up until the gala, I’m afraid.” Copia sighed. “I’d need to get it done tonight or I’ll never hear the end of it.” He was clearly annoyed that he even had to do this and wanted it over with as soon as possible.

‘Well, uh,” Fae thought quickly. “I have bleach and the dye I use? Would that work?”

“I suppose it would,” Copia looked over Fae’s hair and shrugged. “They didn’t say what color I had to have it, just that it had to be something unnatural.”

“Uh, okay!” Fae tried to keep her peppy tone even though the conversation felt like some kind of weird business deal. “It will take a few hours,” Copia’s eyes widened a little. “But if you need to do work or something, you could bring it to my room and work on it there while I do your hair?” Fae offered.

“Or we could just do it in my room?” Copia suggested.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.” Fae could imagine her leaving a mess of red all over Copia’s bathroom and towels. “I don’t want to ruin anything of yours, so my room would be better I think.”

“All right,” Copia acquiesced. “I will meet you there once I gather my things.” He stood and made for the door before stopping. “I realize I have no idea where your room even is,” Copia laughed awkwardly.

“Oh,” Fae stood and approached him. “Then I can help you with your things and then take you there, yeah?”

“That would be very kind of you, Sister.”

-----

Fae walked with Copia through the crowded halls, carrying some books and papers. Copia had more papers as well as some pens and other miscellaneous things from his office. Though there was a sea of people meandering around, Fae darted easily through them, giving a polite little “excuse me” to every person she passed. She was so fleet-footed that she left Copia in the dust.

“Uh, Sister Fae!” He called after her. She stopped and turned, surprised that he was so far behind her. She waited for him to catch up and then made sure to stay right beside him. It was obviously too slow for her liking, but she was trying to be polite.

As they got closer, Fae tried to think of what the state of her room was when she left that morning. Did she leave her dirty clothing scattered around again? When was the last time she cleaned? She was now regretting her decision to insist on going to her room.

When they arrived at Fae’s small room, the first thing that struck Copia were the plants. Bright, healthy plants covered the room, and some hung from the ceiling. The walls were covered in paintings and crafts, including one large framed painting of a sunny landscape to make up for the lack of windows. It reminded Copia of stories his mother used to tell him of green witches that lived in the woods.

“Bathroom’s this way,” Fae rushed Copia through the room before he could look too closely at anything. She set his books down on the counter, next to three more plants, and darted back into the room to get him a chair and something to write on. Copia stood awkwardly in the center of the bathroom while Fae busied herself getting everything ready.

Before he was a cardinal, he had lived in a similar room. The tiny bathroom he remembered living in was sterile, white, and cold. But Fae had decorated the entire room with lights, plants, paintings, and a lot of other knickknacks that looked handmade. It felt homey.

Fae returned to the bathroom, wearing some old clothing that she used to dye her hair in. The old tshirt and leggings were covered in bleach and hair dye residue. She had also put on a headband to push her bangs back and out of the way.

“Okay, uh,” Fae stammered. She was only used to doing this on herself and wasn’t sure where to start. She ushered Copia into the chair and tied an old, stained towel around his shoulders. “You just work and I’ll take care of everything.” She assured him, even though in the back of her mind she was terrified of ruining his hair.

Copia arranged his things as best he could on the tiny tray Fae had brought in for him while she started to mix the bleach together in a little plastic bowl.

“That smells toxic,” Copia wrinkled his nose at the smell of the fumes. “Is all that necessary?”

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” Fae grimaced. “But your hair’s too dark. The red won’t show up otherwise.” Copia sighed and gestured for her to continue.

Fae worked in sections quickly over Copia’s hair as he wrote, trying to get the bleach in as quickly as possible. Once his hair was coated, she put a shower cap over his head.

“Okay, that just needs to sit for a minute,” she explained. “It might itch, but that’s normal. If it really hurts, let me know and we can wash it out.” Copia nodded, somehow able to get himself invested in his work. Fae stood around awkwardly, not sure what to do for the fifteen minutes of processing time. She ended up grabbing a book and sitting on the edge of her tub, trying not to feel weird about having an upper clergy member hanging out in her bathroom.

After about five minutes, Copia started to squirm. Fae glanced up from her book and quirked her eyebrow.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“It feels like there are ants crawling over my head.” Copia huffed. He went to scratch at his exposed sideburn and Fae stopped him.

“Yeah, that’ll happen,” Fae said. “Are you too uncomfortable? Want to stop?”

“No, it’s fine.” Copia brushed her off. He tried to focus on his work again, but got frustrated when he couldn’t ignore the tingling on his scalp. “This is terrible.” Fae tried not to laugh at his childish comment. “How often do you do this?” He looked to Fae.

“Every 5 or 6 weeks.” She shrugged.

“Why would you put yourself through this so often?” Copia questioned, looking at her like she was crazy.

“I have my reasons.” She shrugged again, and Copia’s brow furrowed. He’d spoken with Fae many times, and she’d never dodged a question. She always spoke candidly and honestly, which is something he admired about her. He didn’t understand why a question about her hair would make her clam up like that.

“What is your natural hair color, anyway?” Copia realized he had never seen her roots grow out. She must have gone through great pains to hide it.

“I’ll tell you later.” She avoided another question, and Copia felt like he had accidentally brushed a nerve. “I need to watch that bleach out.” Her smile returned, slightly duller than usual.

It took a little arranging given the tiny space, but Fae got Copia’s head under her bathtub faucet and washed his hair. Copia watched her face above him, her soft features hardening a little as she focused.

“Thank you,” Copia said over the rushing water.

“Hm?” Fae stopped and looked at him.

“You were working on the painting for the auction, yes?” Fae avoided his eyes and shrugged. “You were busy and didn’t have to do this. So, thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fae smiled as she turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his head, cheeks turning pink. “I needed a break, and this sounded more fun.”

Fae helped Copia back into the chair and turned on her hair dryer. As soon as it was dry, Fae started to pour the red dye into another small bowl. While she did, Copia got a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

“Seven hells, I don’t even look like myself,” His hair and sideburns were platinum blonde. It felt like he was looking like a stranger in the mirror with the same eyes and mustache.

“It’s... different,” Fae laughed. “But not the final product, so don’t worry.” She moved him back to the chair and started panting on the bright red dye.

“I regret every agreeing to this stupid thing in the first place.” Copia grumbled. When Fae laughed, he flushed. “Sorry, Sister, even if this isn’t a very professional situation, I am still a superior and should speak as such.” He had an image to uphold, and grumbling over such a silly thing wasn’t part of it.

“You’re fine, Cardinal.” Fae smiled, and Copia could hear it in her voice. “I won’t mind you being a little informal in situations like this. It’s nice to see you with your hair down, so to speak.” Copia chuckled, and Fae did too. “But why did you sign yourself up for this?” Fae asked, curious.

“I didn’t think it would happen,” Copia shrugged and then quickly caught the towel that tried to slip from his shoulders. “I transferred here last year from a much smaller parish. They had forced me to attach my name to similar things, but we’d never raise enough money. I didn’t realize how good Papa III is at fundraising.” He sighed.

“You could still have said no if you really didn’t want to do this,” Fae’s brow furrowed.

“Ah, but then I’d be some stick in the mud,” Copia folded his arms. “I’m working under Nihil to become the next Papa, you know, and I’m trying to endear myself to everyone to transition smoother. Everyone liked Papa III so much because he was “fun.” He was and is more of a pain if you ask me, but I also want to look like I can also be... I don’t know. Fun? Entertaining?”

“I think you can find out how to do that in your own way, though,” Fae said, finishing up his hair and sitting back on the edge of the tub to let the dye process. “If you try too hard to be like the last Papa, people will notice. You need to be you. I think people will find you entertaining, still. You don’t have to dye your hair crazy colors and do backflips or something.” Copia looked at her incredulously, surprised at her candor. “I mean, I think the ship has sailed on that first one, but for the future, you know?” She smiled playfully, and he gave a small smile in return.

“I’m not so sure plain old Copia will win over any hearts, but thank you for saying that.”

Fae thought of telling him about all the Sisters who swooned over him. It saddened her to think he was blind to that. But she bit her tongue. It wasn’t her place to say. That, and she was afraid he would ask her if she was one of those Sisters. She didn’t want to answer that.

“You never told me what your hair color actually is,” Copia said, and Fae blinked.

“It’s nothing special, really,” Fae looked away from him. She wanted to avoid the subject again, but realized how strange it seemed to get upset about the color of her hair. “It’s the same color as that platinum that your hair was.”

“That blonde? Naturally?” Fae nodded shyly. “I didn’t think that light of a blonde could be natural.” He muttered and Fae rubbed the back of her head.

“I guess it can,” She laughed awkwardly. “Here, let me show you.” She stood and went into the bedroom, coming back with a framed photo of a young Fae and her grandma. She was maybe seven in the picture and looked angelic with her blue-grey eyes and long platinum blonde hair.

“I’ll be damned...” Copia muttered as he looked at the picture. “It’s a beautiful color on you. Why did you change it?”

“It’s a little complicated,” Fae’s face turned a darker red and she still wouldn’t look at him.

“I won’t pressure you, Sister. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine.” Fae took the picture back from Copia and focused on it as she spoke. “How much have I told you about my family?” They spoke often, but only small amounts of her past had snuck into conversations.

“Not much,” Copia said, thinking. “I know your grandmother raised you, but that’s about it.”

“Well,” Fae chewed her lip, trying to decide the appropriate amount of information. She sat down on the floor against the wall as she thought.

“I don’t know what my mom looks like,” she started. “Neither did my grandma, really. She dropped me off on Dad’s doorstep when I was a few months old. He hadn’t seen my mom in months and didn’t know she was pregnant.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Copia said politely, unsure about what this had to do with Fae’s hair.

“It’s fine,” She shrugged. “It’s in the past. I never got to ask my dad what she looked like, but he told my grandma she had the most gorgeous long blonde hair.”

“Oh,” Copia muttered, putting pieces together.

“I had long hair until I was around 13 or 14.” Fae explained. “It reminded me of how I’d never know who my mom was, you know? So one day I cut it all off and dyed it. Grandma understood and didn’t make me change it.”

The air was heavy with the seriousness of the conversation, and that feeling made Fae anxious.

“Your hair should be ready now.” She said, not entirely sure if they had waited long enough, but wanting the conversation to end.

Fae rinsed and blowdried Copia’s hair again, then they both stood and looked at him in the mirror.

“I look like a tomato.” He muttered and Fae bit back a laugh.

“It’ll match your red suit.” Fae offered. “It could look like an intentional choice.”

“I was going to wear my red suit, yes.” Copia straightened and crossed his arms. “But I don’t think I want to look like a walking strawberry.”

“Hey don’t be mean,” Fae nudged him playfully. “I have the same hair color, you know.”

“But it looks good on you,” Copia protested. “Old men should not have hair like this.”

“You look fine,” Fae insisted. “I like your natural hair better, but you still look good.” Copia gave a small grunt in disagreement.

“How long until I can change it back?” he asked.

“A few days.” Fae said, and Copia sighed.

“I’m sure you can call a salon and get it taken care of the day after the gala or something.” Fae tried to make him feel a little better and he appreciated her trying.

“Actually,” Copia glanced at Fae through the mirror and away again. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind doing this again?” He asked timidly.

“You want me to...?” Fae turned her head to him and Copia turned away from her. “I’m hardly a professional, Cardinal.” she protested.

“Yes, I know.” He started gathering up his supplies to give him an excuse to avoid eye contact. “I just missed out on these types of things as a teen. Spent all my time studying, not doing the normal rebellious teen things. So this was... nice.”

“Oh,” Fae flushed, surprised that he’d had a good enough experience to want to do it again.

“That is, if you want to and are available. I don’t want you to put yourself out just for me.” Copia had organized all of his things into neat piles and now looked at Fae anxiously.

“I’m sure I could find the time, Cardinal.” Fae smiled and Copia’s shoulders relaxed.

“Thank you, Sister.” Copia picked up his things and gave her a polite little nod. “I have taken up enough of your time for one evening, though, I think. Thank you again.”

“Happy to help, Cardinal.” She smiled.

“Let me know if there is anything I can do to repay you,” he said over his shoulder as he headed to the door.

“Save me a dance at the gala tomorrow night,” Fae teased as she opened the door for him. Copia stopped mid-stride and stared at her.

“I would have done that anyway,” He said and headed out the door into the hall.

“C-Cardinal, I was joking! You don’t have to do that!” Fae’s face burned as she called after him.

“See you tomorrow night, Sister.” Copia said over his shoulder.

Fae stood in her doorway, dumbfounded and blushing, until she noticed everyone in the busy corridor was staring at her. Her face was scalding hot as she backed into her room and shut the door behind her.

#oneshot #oneshot fic #oc #original character #copia #cardinal copia x oc #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x original character #ghost #the band ghost #ghost bc #I'll probably post this on AO3 too but hey here it is #no one asked for this but here it is anyway

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kabootarandishaan · 4 years ago

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Riverbed

Summary: The reader has taken in a stray dog and always takes it to the riverbed for walks, one day they see a random purple haired boy and things ensue

One-shot/Series: Part 3

Pairing: Jonathan Joestar/Female reader

A/N: Part 4 is about done and Part 5 is on its way still not sure how long I want this to be but not too long I think. Anyways hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: None

The shop was immensely busy the next day. You saw many new faces and wondered if it was a special occasion. You and your father were buried in work. It seemed the line of people would not end, just as one left another walked in. The crowd seemed to lighten around supper but it was still larger than usual. You worried you would not be able to leave at your father's instructed time. You were relieved when it slowed significantly an hour after. You looked at your father and he gave you a slight nod permitting you to leave. You quickly called to Nila and went to grab a journal and pocket watch before making your way to the river. You rushed remembering you still had to look for your dagger. Nila sniffed ahead, aiding you in your search. You eventually made your way to the same spot where you met the Joestar. Nila stopped sniffing around a particular spot before kneeling down and covering her eyes with her ears.

You looked at her with a bewildered expression. "Well it couldn't have just disappeared! It must be around here somewhere. You aren't looking hard enough Nila!" She only whimpered in response. You let out a sigh before taking a seat beside your mutt. You stroked her head before taking out your journal. "Maybe it fell into the river?" You looked at Nila and could have swore she rolled her eyes before she made her way to the shallows. You sat for some time just writing away in your journal recording the happenings of the day. You wrote often, during your self studying you quickly took to poetry. You enjoyed reading pieces with varied rhythm and rhyme schemes. You would write them yourself sometimes, inspired by the likes of Charles Dickens. You eventually went back to read old entries. You turned to see what you had described of your interactions the night before.

Jonathan Joestar was far from what my expectations had led me to believe. I will not lie, but I had expected for him to be an arrogant and entitled bastard. I was pleasantly surprised that was not the case. I am not sure if I should say this but he exceeded my expectations in another way as well. The man was handsome, his features unique. The deep purple of his hair was one of the first things to intrigue. The way the moonlight shown on his face highlighted the cerulean tone of his eyes. He was quite large too. The fitting of his vest accented his biceps, which only looked more appealing from the way his high waisted trousers cinched him in. His voice… "Lady Y/N?" You jumped and quickly closed your journal. You turned to see the very man you had written about standing behind you. He quickly apologized trying to hide his amusement. "I'm sorry to startle you. Did I interrupt something important?"

“Oh!” You quickly tucked the journal away under your skirt and stood up to properly to meet his gaze. “I was just...sketching.” You bit your lip, you were no stranger to a little white lie but this was bad. “Ah! Well, would you mind if I took a peek at one?” This was exactly why you knew the lie was bad. You usually had time to think these things out but the thought of Jonathan Joestar seeing your thoughts of him was mortifying. Thankfully, Nila came to your rescue as she began to pull at the pant leg of young Joestar. “Nila! Will you stop that!” She simply sniffed and continued to lightly tug at the area around the waistband of his pants. “I must say, your dog is quite the detective. I believe she recognized that I have something that belongs to you.” He reached behind him and pulled out something wrapped within a handkerchief. You looked at him with a confused expression which soon turned to one of recognition, then one of excitement.

“My dagger! Thank goodness it was with you! You have saved me from being scolded two nights in a row.” You laughed and reached your hand out for your dagger only for Jonathan to pull back his hand. You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "That's odd it looked as if you tried to keep me from getting my dagger." You reached out once again only for him to raise his higher. You gave out an exasperated huff and crossed your arms in front if you. Jonathan burst out with a heavy laughter causing you to feel a slight heat on your cheeks. You were thankful for the dimness of the night as it kept him from seeing you. His laugh had an infectious quality of some sort, something you could not quite place, you could not stop the grin that eventually made its way to your own face. Jonathan gathered himself from his shenanigans, placing a hand over his stomach to steady himself. He looked to you and paused when he saw your stance.

You stood in front of him with a small smile etched across your face, arms crossed. He would have made you out to be annoyed at his childish behaviors but your expression said otherwise. This was the first time he had seen you smile, truly smile, it suited you. You raised your eyebrows at him and he quickly looked away, embarrassed at allowing himself to become so caught up in your features. As he felt the tips of his ears heat up, he cleared his throat trying to muster up something to say. "I...I apologize that was quite immature of me. You left in such haste the other night you dropped your dagger. I had tried calling after you but you had gotten quite far. Here you are." He held out the dagger for you to take. It seemed a sudden self-consciousness overcame him from the way he rambled, it only caused you to become more amused. You broke out into your own small laughing fit. "It was all in good fun. No harm was done so there is no need to apologize Mr. Joestar." You reached out for your dagger.

As you grabbed the dagger, your hand lightly brushed the skin of Jonathan's hand. You looked up at him, only to see his gaze also fixated on you. You could feel the pace of your heart quicken as you slowly gripped the dagger, your fingers were gently grazing Jonathan's palm. You held onto it for a moment simply staring into his eyes before you heard him clear his throat once more. You were both brought out of your trance and could only give one another an uncomfortable smile in response to what occurred. " I would prefer if you simply called me Jonathan, Lady Y/N. Mr. Joestar is my father." You both let out a chuckle at his last remark. "On the condition you refrain from calling me Lady Y/N. Y/N works just fine for me." You both smiled relieved at the release of some tension between the two of you. You quickly took out your pocket watch much to your dismay it was thirty minutes to midnight and you would have to make your way home.

Jonathan had only recently come as well and your time was once again cut short. Jonathan saw your expression change into one of irritation after eyeing the watch. "Is there a problem Lad- I mean Y/N." You looked up to him, his attempt lightening your mood. "My father requires me to be home before midnight. It is already some time past eleven I need to start making my way home if I am to reach there on time." You looked up at him and watched as his brows furrowed into a look of disappointment, his childlike behavior drew your lips into a sad smile. "Allow me to walk you home." He looked at you, his expression shifting from sadness to determination. Your eyes widened in shock as you were caught off guard by his request. "Mr- Jonathan, I am not sure if that is a good idea." You knew it would be appropriate to decline his offer, considering his status and the potential reaction of your father, but you felt the slight desire to accept his request. You wanted to spend a little more time with Jonathan Joestar, you wanted to know more of him.

"Please Y/N. I would have done the same had you not left so abruptly the other night. If not all the way I will turn around whenever you request." He was only being a gentleman you knew he didn't mean to be condescending like most other men were. In fact, his own request seemed to be laced with the same inquisitiveness that you heard from him when he asked you your name the other night. He was letting you decide, he said you could ask him to leave at any moment. Although you had not met many men, you knew that Jonathan was different. The way he talked to you without remarking on your body or face, the way he listened when you spoke, the way he did not judge knowing you carried a dagger. It was something new for you and you were not afraid to admit that you liked it. "Alright. I suppose you may. Nila!" You called after your dog before you and Jonathan slowly made your way towards your home.

#jonathan joestar #jonathan joestar x reader #jonathan joestar x fem!reader #phantom blood #jjba #jjba fanfic #jojos bizarre adventure #jonathan joestar fanfiction #jonathan joestar fanfic #riverbed

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tiredcowpoke · 5 years ago

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TITLE: An Early Morning (18+) PAIRING: Arthur Morgan/Reader REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: A week of tension and self-esteem issues finally comes to a head one early morning for you and Arthur. WARNINGS: Some self-esteem issues and mentions of depression, but most heavy one is smut (oral) so this one is 18+. It gets sort of fluffy tho. NOTE: Here I am digging into my rare smut writing ventures to give you some angst and fluff in these trying times. Also this is an unestablished modern verse au because why not. I wrote this as gender neutral and tried to keep it that way.

You weren’t too sure what the issue was anymore.

Something had shifted, it was bothersome that you couldn’t figure out what it was exactly. At first it just seemed like general business, you weren’t pushy and neither was Arthur. That was something you liked about him, that could go about your own business without worrying too much if the other was expecting something. Working from home while he worked in the nearest town was a nice set up, much as your days could feel a little boring and lonely at points. Recently, that had been showing itself much more frequently, even the odd message not really doing much. Somehow, Arthur had become more clipped in real life than he was in texted words, and you had found yourself wanting to ask what was going on but something pulled you back into letting him sort it out. Arthur seemed to have a lot going on under the surface sometimes, and you knew in certain points there was nothing you could really do about it aside from being there for him.

This, though? It was something else.

He was taking more work and shifts that had him seeing you less, and it seemed like he was avoiding you or avoiding talking about something. You had been with him for a while, it wasn’t like you couldn’t see the signs that he was putting up a wall, but it was still a hard subject to navigate. It had started happening after that wedding for a friend and the trip into the city. You had been raised there, you knew the city enough to occupy both your times during the down points between the events, but even then you knew Arthur felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He hadn’t completely, but around your friends he really did seem to stick out a bit in mannerisms. Showing up as a couple had pulled some questions and conversations your way, stories about past relationships and growing up. It had seemed nice at the time, you hadn’t suspected anything wrong.

Now...now it was just strange how it seemed to shift a week or two after you had come back from the city.

You had been talking back and forth with a friend about the whole thing, a message making you pause as you had sat at the foot of the bed.

‘Are you two going to seperate, then?’

The question had put a pit in your stomach, shutting the phone as you placed it screen down against your leg as you leaned forward on an elbow, running a hand across your mouth in thought. That was...a scary question you really didn’t want to answer, or really knew the words for one. It made you realize that you had to say something, or the issue would really sit for too long for you and Arthur to really do anything about it. You had tried not to let the various conclusions your mind came to really sit at the forefront, but there was a mystery there. Was he really done with the whole thing and couldn’t find the words for it himself? Should you treat this as another depressive period? Did he find someone else? The thoughts had you taking in a breath, shutting your eyes as you vowed that you would get this figured out soon.

A few days later, that vow returned to you as you woke up in bed early in the morning, turning your head to glance toward the window to see the faint light of day starting to glow from behind the curtain. You knew you weren’t alone in the bed, feeling the warmth of another body nearby but it still felt like there was distance even then. Arthur was never an overly affectionate person in public, as you had come to understand, but he was usually more relaxed about it behind closed doors and in bed. You had gotten used to feeling him settling himself around you at night, or waking up pressed into his back or wrapped in his arms.

Lately, it had left the impression that he would sleep on the floor if it wasn’t so damn obvious.

You slowly turned your head to glance toward him, Arthur’s back to you as he appeared to be sleeping. However, as you shifted up slightly to roll over, you saw that he had his eyes open. It gave you a moment’s pause, settling back down for a moment as you watched his shoulders rise and fall slowly in time with his even breathing. Letting out a small breath of your own, you reached out to run a hand against the back of his shoulder. Arthur tensed just slightly, making it known you had pulled him from a thought as you kept your hand pressed there for a few moments before letting it drop.

“Are you gonna talk to me at some point about what’s happening?” you asked, voice somewhat thick from sleep, “Because it’s starting to become a lot.”

“‘Bout what? Me sleepin’?” he grumbled, shifting slightly to glance at you over his shoulder for a moment.

“Unless you started sleeping with your eyes open, I think we both know that’s not it.”

He seemed to regard you for a moment before shrugging, settling back into the same position he was in before. That wall still up. Arthur let out a slow sigh through his nose, shaking his head lightly against the pillow.

“It’s nothin’, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“See,” you started, your voice a little sharp as you raised up to sit with your back against the headboard somewhat, “I kind of have to worry, considering you won’t tell me what is going on, won’t really talk to me that much at all. Makes me think that if we hadn’t have moved in together, you wouldn’t have even bothered showing up here at the end of your days.”

That seemed to put some pause in him as well, Arthur remaining silent for a few moments as you could feel your heart pick up a bit upon the thoughts that started to rush into your head. Did he regret moving in with you? Did he really just want to leave? The question that followed seemed to echo those thoughts, putting a terrible pit in your stomach.

“You regret lettin’ me live with you?” he asked, not lifting his head to look at you as he said it.

“No?” he returned, shaking your head, “We’d been talking about it for months beforehand, I had a lot of time to consider that. I just...Arthur, if you’re unhappy, you should just tell me. I don’t want to keep you tethered here if you would rather move on.”

“I’m not lookin’ to move on, it’s not that,” he started, rolling over onto his back as he looked up at the ceiling for a few moments. It was something, at least, making you curl your legs so you could sit properly in bed as you watched his expression. “Hadn’t really noticed how different we are ‘till a couple weeks ago. You always said you were from a city, but guess I never really pictured it before. All those people, your friends, I saw how you were with them and...guess part of me thought I was holdin’ you back.”

“Your response to that was to shut me out?” you asked, Arthur shifting his gaze to meet yours finally as the tightness of your brow softened slightly as you shook your head. Being angry for him for how he reacted to that insecurity? Maybe it wasn’t fair, and you weren’t so much angry as you were a little sad. “You carried that around for so long and didn’t want to tell me? I would have told you exactly what I’m telling you now. I see those people maybe once or twice every couple years, a couple I keep regular contact with through messaging but other than that...I mean, I was as happy to leave as you were by the end of that week.”

“Guess I thought it would be easier to just close off for a bit. I thought...you couldn’t actually love someone like me, want someone like me after where you came from.”

“I could say the same to you about me,” you supplied, pausing a moment as you looked over his face a moment before you let out a soft sigh through your nose. “Telling all my friends and family I was moving out into this town in the middle of nowhere, taking my work remotely? I had to tell them a number of times that was what I wanted, and I’m as certain about that as I am about wanting to be with you. I love you, and thinking that you were making room to...leave or that you found someone else, I just…”

“There’s nobody else,” he confirmed, causing you to glance back toward him at the certainty in his voice and the feeling of his hand warming your lower back through the fabric of your shirt. “I’m sorry, I get so in my damn head sometimes it feels like all I’m thinkin’ is truth. Always been like that, I should’ve...I dunno, stepped back a moment.”

“You’re more than those thoughts,” you stated, reaching out to run your hand through his hair, a touch he seemed to welcome as it eased not only the tension in his expression but the heaviness in your gut that had developed over the last couple days, “I’m happy with you, Arthur. Very much so. If that ever changes, I will tell you about it. I know I should have been more open about my own thoughts, too.”

“Not your fault,” he returned with a small shake of his head, “I shouldn’t have shut you out like I did.”

You let out a small exhale, shifting so you could lean over him and press a kiss to his mouth. Arthur returned it easily, the action pulling a wave of relief through you that you weren’t aware you needed, holding the gesture for a few moments as he cupped the back of your head, wrapping his free arm around your back to press you against him. Parting with a small inhale, you let out a soft huff as you smiled softly.

“Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on that,” you continued, looking over his face a moment, “and I really do love you, you know that right?”

“Yeah,” Arthur returned with a soft nod, shifting his head slightly as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“And you are very attractive,” you stated with a quick grin, Arthur letting out a small huff in return.

“Wouldn’t go that far.”

“I might,” you returned, Arthur, despite his quip, allowing you to drop your head down toward his shoulder as you pressed your mouth against his neck.

You weren’t too sure where the urge came from, and in that exact moment of all places, but the feeling of his fingers slipping under your shirt to run warm skin against your bare back was enough to make you want to feel it all over. Perhaps it was the well of emotions over the last couple days, or the lack of affection throughout all the doubt, but you really just wanted him to keep going.

Yet, you had another idea.

Shifting your hands down a bit, you slipped your hands under the fabric to trail up his stomach slightly as you lifted your head from his neck, Arthur letting out a slow breath as you gathered the hem of his shirt and pushed it upwards slightly. Getting what you were trying to do, Arthur shifted up to help remove his shirt. Both of your movements were a little slow due to the time of day and sleepiness was still lingering, but it seemed like you both were fine with the current turn of events. You brought your head back down to kiss along his exposed shoulder and toward his collarbone as Arthur settled himself back down but didn’t fully lay back down as you felt the prickle of his stubble brush against the side of your head, feeling a hand running along your side before he dropped toward your hip, knowing where he was planning on going with it. Much as you wanted that, you knew he would take the moment to shift the focus more on you. Generous as that was, that wasn’t your plan.

So, you pulled yourself up a bit, reaching down to gently remove his hand from that part of your body. You didn’t miss the somewhat confused look that crossed his expression, giving him a soft grin and light chuckle.

“Later,” you said, letting him have his hand back, “I want this to be about you right now.”

“...You sure?” he asked, “You really don’t have to.”

“I want you,” you replied, shifting to run your hand along his stomach, stopping near the dip of his inner hip, “and I want to. You had said you were worried I didn’t love or want you anymore, right? I figure I could show you how wrong that thought is. Unless you don’t want me to continue.”

You lifted your gaze back toward his face at your last statement, taking in his expression for anything that would indicate that he wanted you to back off. Instead, he seemed to be watching you in return with lidded eyes, mouth slightly parted, before he nodded softly.

“Sure, darlin’, okay. Go ahead.”

Getting your intention, he seemed to relax somewhat, laying back a little more against the pillows but not fully as you offered him another smile. You moved your hand down between his legs, gently gripping the bulge there over the boxers there that he had worn to bed, the action pulling a quick inhale from him as you pressed and rubbed back against the slight lift of his hips. You palmed and stroked him through the fabric of his boxers for a few moments, before dipping your hand in to grip at his cock. You pumped him a couple times under his underwear for a few moments, the motions pulling a small grunt from him before you were pulling him free once you could feel him growing harder. You continued to stroke him, adding a couple brushes of your thumb along the tip of his cock that caused more twitching of his hips as Arthur started letting out noises that made your stomach tighten lightly and your heart thud.

Once you started to swipe pre-cum from his cock with your thumb, you released him a moment as you shifted to move further down the bed, shifting the blanket about you a moment before ducking under it a moment to shift under his leg somewhat so you were between his legs, taking his cock back in your hand with another stroke as you glanced up toward him. The sight of his flushed expression as he watched on, his chest rising and falling with his breaths from between his legs was enough to rush heat through your body, settling in your face before you were bending down to run your tongue along the length of his cock. You took the tip into your mouth with a light suck as Arthur dropped his head back down to the pillow with a groan. You shifted your attention to shifting his boxers down his legs further, Arthur shifting his leg and hips somewhat in help before you shifted forward a little more, running a hand along the outside of his thigh.

Between the shared heat of the blanket and your body heats, it was getting a little uncomfortable but you didn’t care as you took him into your mouth as you squeezed his balls lightly in your free hand. You tried to relax your throat a bit as you took him in deeper, the action pulling a louder groan from him as he rolled his hips up into your mouth somewhat, causing you to draw back a bit before using your free hand to press him back down toward the bed again, message clear. You weren’t sure, but gagging on his dick might ruin the moment some. You continued to bob your head slowly, taking him in deeper each time before pulling back up with a curl of your tongue and hollowing your cheeks. The sounds he was making and controlled shifting of Arthur’s hips had your focus almost swimming as you tried to keep up the same actions.

Still, you tried not to jump when you felt the blanket shift slightly so Arthur could find your head with his hand, running his fingers along your scalp before he found purchase on the back of your head, starting to follow the direction with the press of his hand and slight rolling of his hips as you tried to keep up the similar actions from before. You were rewarded after a few more moments of this with a few drawn out moans, another hand reaching under the blanket to grip at your shoulder, the feeling of the warm and smooth skin of one of his thighs against your shoulder and head almost making your head swim and want to take this in a more selfish direction.

“Shit…” he groaned out as you felt his movement starting to pick up a bit in pace and force, the feeling of his hand guiding your mouth down around his cock as he rolled his hips up into the warmth had you letting out a muffled moan. If you had known this whole thing would have ended with Arthur trying to fuck your mouth as gently as he could manage, you may not have felt so torn up about it in the long run. It was a bit of an amusing and dirty thought, but a fleeting one as you continued to bob your head around his cock. Rising up with a couple harder sucks along his length had him moaning and rolling his hips quicker against your mouth, almost threatening to make you gag a bit but your throat was relaxed enough that it was alright for now.

Thankfully, much as you could tell from the noises he was making and the pace he had set that Arthur wasn’t going to hold on for too much longer. He moaned out your name, warning you he was close as you continued to try to keep at the pace he had set before you felt him tense up, pushing back against the hold his hand had on the back of your head as you felt his cock twitch, opening your mouth a little more as he came with a drawn out groan, fingers tightening against what flesh he could grab. You sucked and tried to swallow down as much as you could, running your tongue along him a moment before you felt him release your head and you were able to separate your mouth from his cock. You swallowed again, feeling a bit of extra heat touch your face as you reached a hand up to wipe the drool and cum from your mouth before you were moving to come out from under the blanket.

The cool air of the bedroom was welcome as you let out a few heavy breaths, glancing back toward Arthur as he seemed to be calming his own breathing, his face flushed and his gaze bleary as he met yours. With a soft chuckle, you lay down beside him.

“Been a hot minute since I did that,” you remarked, running a hand through your hair a moment as Arthur nodded slightly beside you.

“Yeah…” Arthur returned, shifting to roll toward you as he shifted himself up slightly with an arm, “Come here.”

A part of you was hesitant to let him, considering what you had in your mouth barely a minute ago, but Arthur didn’t seem to care as he pressed his lips to yours in a lazy kiss, parting your lips with his tongue as you ran your hands up his back. Still, much as you knew he would probably want to take you up on the ‘later’ you had mentioned, even Arthur seemed to feel the same exhaustion you felt as he broke the kiss to settle himself down against you. He let out a low rumble from his chest as you traced your fingers against the back of his shoulder, Arthur wrapping an arm around your middle as you settled into his embrace.

“Thank you,” he started, close to your ear, “For everythin’, not just…”

“Yeah, I got you,” you said with a soft chuckle, lifting a hand to run through his hair, “I love you, Arthur, I needed you to know that after everything going on in your head.”

“I love you, too,” he muttered, his arm tightening around your middle slightly, “I’ll pay you back for this soon.”

“Well, long as you keep this position and sleep a couple hours with me, we’ll consider this settled and you can work on that later.”

“Sure…” he said around a soft chuckle, sounding like he was well on his way back into sleep as it were. So, you just let out a slow breath, soaking in his warmth and the feeling of his skin as you shut your eyes and let everything fade into the comforting embrace of sleep.

#my writing.#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #reader insert

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honouraryweasley12 · 5 years ago

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Hands-On Learning (NC-17)

I wrote this for a Romione fest that didn’t end up happening last year, but I was prompted to post it by @wildegreenlight. I’m SUPER rusty with my writing, so I hope it’s alright. The prompt for this fic was “Courage”.

Contains smut, so don’t read if you’re not interested in that kind of thing.

~*~

Her foot was tapping impatiently, despite the steady shiver of nerves running up and down her back.

She glanced first to her left, then her right, checking for the thousandth time that there was no one around. She had purposely picked the day of the Gryffindor/Slytherin match to execute her plan, knowing the castle would be emptied.

She'd once been accused of being a scarlet woman, and for the first time in her life, she felt as though it was warranted.

And she didn't care, not one bit.

Ironically, it was her accuser's youngest son who was the target of her... corruption.

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink and she licked her lips, imagining what was going to happen in mere minutes. She leaned back against the worn cushion and let out a slow breath, attempting to calm the hammering of her heart.

Was she really going through with it?

To distract herself, she surveyed the library from her spot. It was her favourite seat in her favourite place in Hogwarts, hidden away in the far back corner, amongst books covered in a thick layer of dust.

Next to her settee was a small table where her bag and supplies sat. She had been working diligently for a while—NEWTs weren't that far away—until she couldn't concentrate any further. If Ron only knew how easily he could distract her!

The silence was broken by the familiar creak of the heavy wooden library doors. She craned her neck and saw a flash of red hair, causing a pleasant flutter in her stomach. She missed him so much during their separation, despite his almost monthly visits.

His approach was obvious, his footfalls echoing in the cavernous quiet of the library. Hermione took a moment just to watch him, his too tight uniform stretched across his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up exposing his freckled forearms.

Ron stopped, a puzzled look on his face as he stared directly at her.

"Hermione?"

His hoarse whisper was met with silence as she continued gazing at him.

He stepped over to the desk and looked down. "This is her stuff," he said to himself. "Where is she? I promised Ginny we'd go watch her play. Hermione's note told me to meet her here."

He peered around the corner, greeted by more books, but no girlfriend. Hermione couldn't help but notice how good his arse looked in his old trousers.

He turned back to the couch and peered at it, sensing something was amiss. His eyes narrowed, as if she'd suddenly appear.

"Ron?"

He didn't respond.

"Good, it's working," Hermione said loudly.

Still no response. Hermione's lips curled up slowly, her plan about to come to fruition. She picked up her wand and made a few complicated movements.

The air shimmered for a split second, before revealing the brunette witch.

Ron leaped backwards and gasped. "Bloody hell, love!"

She giggled at the expression on his face, before jumping up from her seat and flinging herself into his open arms. He lifted her up, and their lips collided, mouths slightly open, hungry for one another. Hermione moaned as Ron sucked on her plump bottom lip, her hands tangled in his fiery locks.

They pulled away, chests heaving.

"Missed you," Ron said between breaths.

"Oh Ron, me too!"

Their eyes met. "Just a few months more, yeah?"

Hermione nodded. "I can't wait. As much as I love school, I miss you, and Harry, and everyone. Mostly, I just want to start my life outside of school—with you."

He gripped her tighter and held her close for a moment, before reluctantly setting her back down on her feet. She grasped his hand and led him to the sofa. Ron dropped down onto the middle and slung his long arm along the top.

As he got settled, Hermione again repeated the series of wand movements. If anyone was looking, the young couple would have disappeared, unable to be seen or heard.

"What was that for?"

She shrugged as she took a seat next to him, his arm pulling her to him. "Privacy."

"Erm, alright." He looked at her strangely. "There's no one here."

"I don't want to get caught."

"Oh, is that why you asked me to wear my uniform? Did someone complain to McGonagall? I swear I didn't know George had charmed my Wheezes robes to start shouting about the latest products during my last visit."

Her cheeks flushed. "No, it wasn't because of that."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "What's going through that big brain of yours?"

Now was her chance to be bold. She just hoped he wouldn't laugh at her.

She shifted in her seat, leaning against the armrest, his arm loose around her. "I asked you to wear the school robes because I was hoping you would help me with something."

His copper eyebrows furrowed. "Of course, but what does that have to do with my uniform?"

She tried to swallow; her mouth suddenly dry. Her voice dropped, timid. "Well, you see... I... I have... I have... this fantasy."

Ron's eyes immediately went wide and he pulled her close again. "Go on."

"I used to sit here sometimes when I was done my work, and daydream about you. How good you looked in your uniform and how badly I wanted to..."

"Wanted to what?"

"Wanted to touch you. Wanted to feel you." She paused and gulped hard, opening her eyes to stare intensely at his, doing her best to mask her vulnerability. "How I wanted to... control you."

His mouth dropped open, the milliseconds feeling like hours to Hermione.

"Say something!"

"Bloody brilliant!"

"Really?" She asked, flabbergasted. She'd been expecting a much different reaction.

"Oh, yes. Do you... do you know how many times I've wanked to bossy Hermione?"

She glanced down and could see a prominent bulge straining against his trousers. She couldn't help but reach out and slowly run a fingertip along his length, causing him to jump slightly.

"Mmmm," she groaned. "I have a very specific fantasy, in fact. I think you're going to like it. Do I have your permission?"

Ron nodded his head vigorously. "Fuck, do whatever you want." He began to reach for his belt buckle, but she promptly slapped his hand away and placed her own hand on his chest.

"You won't do anything unless you're told. Understood?" She felt a surge throughout her whole body with her commanding words.

"Yes."

"It would always start like this, us sitting together here on this settee. In my dreams you would try to hide your arousal from me... but it was rather obvious."

She leaned into his chest, running her other hand up the inside of his thigh to his bulge, this time softly gripping him through the cloth. He let out a low groan. She felt how hard he was, constrained and now controlled.

By her.

The very thought of having her lanky, far stronger, ginger-haired boyfriend at her whim sent a shudder of electricity right to her core.

She looked up at him, his blue eyes afire with want. Her eyes never leaving his, she slid her fingers up to his zipper, pulling the tab agonizingly slowly, tooth-by-tooth until it was all the way down. Her slender fingers slid into the opening, one layer away from his bare flesh.

A dark spot of precum was already visible against his grey pants, showing her how much he was enjoying her fantasy.

She began stroking him again. "Have you figured it out yet? My fantasy?"

He shook his head, staring down at where her hand was. "Shite, keep that up. Feels fucking amazing."

She smirked and found the opening in the front of his underwear. Her fingertips grazed his hot skin, his low moan vibrating in his chest. She gently pulled him out through his fly, exposing him.

"What are you—"

"This was my fantasy, Ron. To feel you in my hands. To..." She stopped and blushed. "To get you off, here in the library."

"Are you joking? You really fantasized about wanking me here?"

She nodded before slowly stroking him, his long, thick cock standing proudly as her small hand ran up and down.

"Mmmm... I have to say, your...wand... is much bigger than I dreamed about. The books I read on human sexuality certainly didn't—"

"Hold on, you read sex books? Why am I not surprised? What else—"

"Quiet!"

She moved her hand from his chest and clamped it over his mouth, causing them both to groan at her sudden aggressiveness.

Hermione squirmed, her arousal growing as she continued her attentions on his hard cock. She slid her hand back down into his trousers, cupping his bollocks, before sliding her hand up, all the way to his large head in long, slow, deliberate motions. She could feel every throb and jerk as he thrust into her hand.

"Do you like seeing my hand around your cock?"

Ron nodded and mumbled something into her hand. His hand, which had been gripping her side, moved up to her breast.

"No touching yet!"

"Mmmph," was his only reply. He instantly let go and tucked his hand behind his head. He slumped, his legs spread wide, completely at her mercy.

She began to pick up the pace. Seeing his pale cock in the open as her small hand jerked him off, against the backdrop of his dark trousers, caused her another wave of arousal. She started grinding against his thigh, her breathing becoming faster. She leaned forward in anticipation.

"Fuck, touch me now!"

His arm snaked behind her back, down to her waist, pushing past the waistband of her skirt. He delved greedily into her damp knickers, his two long fingers finding her clit. He began rubbing in slow circles, causing her to cry out.

Her hand was erratic around his throbbing dick as they pleasured each other in the sacred confines of learning which surrounded them.

Hermione removed her hand from his mouth and tangled it in his hair, pulling his head back roughly. The cord of his neck was far too tempting; she couldn't help but run her tongue along it. He pressed into her heated core, drawing another wail of ecstasy.

Her hand was a blur now, up and down. "I want to hear you. I want you to scream my name."

"Fuck! Hermione! I'm so fucking close."

"Get your fingers in me," she begged. "Please, do it, love!"

His long digits entered her wet centre, plunging in and out. She let out a scream as she rode his hand. He was thrusting his hips wildly into her grip.

Hermione was far past the point of her normal decorum, lust and fantasy fueling her thoughts and words. "I want to see you spunk! I want to watch you get off from my hand."

This was too much for Ron to take. "Fuck, Hermione! Slow down, I... I'm fucking coming!"

Hermione, consumed by him, watched as rope after rope of thick spunk shot out of his cock, falling on his shirt, trousers, and covering her hand. Having her fantasy come to life drove her over the edge, aided by Ron's fingers.

"Roooooonnnnn!"

She managed to scream out as she convulsed, her vision darkening momentarily from the impact of her orgasm. She slumped against Ron, boneless. His harsh breaths gently rocked her. She felt him press a kiss into her bushy locks, and she smiled, satiated.

Their heartbeats slowed, nestled in their little cocoon. The minutes stretched out as they relaxed, blissful.

"I can see why the protective charms were needed. That was rather intense."

She looked up, still shy about the whole thing. "It wasn't too much?"

"To be honest, I don't think I've ever cum that hard in my life."

"That was so hot. Knowing I can cause that."

Ron laughed. "You've been causing it for years, you just didn't know it. You're welcome to cause that any time."

"Smug prat."

"But I'm glad..." he began haltingly. "I'm really glad that we can do these things, together. You know, learn and grow with each other. It's one of the things I love most about us, that we can be totally open and honest... finally."

She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly shining from his words. "I love you."

"Love you, too."

After a few more moments of closeness they managed to clean themselves up, and with the aid of a few spells, removed any trace if their activities.

The air shimmered once again, revealing the couple.

Hermione sighed, and went to gather up her books. "I suppose we should go down to the match now. Your sister will be disappointed if we're not there."

"Harry's there, so she probably won't even notice us." Ron suddenly froze, looking as if he was trying to figure something out in his head.

"Ron? What is it?"

He spoke slowly, delight blossoming across his face as he smiled. "Well, if everyone is at the match, the changing rooms will be empty."

"And?"

"Let me tell you about a little fantasy of my own..."

#smut #ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #ron x hermione

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