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imagineyourworld · 3 years

Text

The Wife

Wolffe x Fem!Padawan!Reader

Summary: When visiting a backwards village Plo Koon’s Padawan has to pretend to be married to Commander Wolffe in order to get the residents to back off

Warnings: Misogyny, a bit of nudity, a bit spicy making out

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-------

You had been walking for what felt like hours when your Master, Plo Koon, received a message and asked you to join him at the front of the train of walking soldiers.

“(Y/N), my dear, I have some unfortunate news”, he started.

You looked at your Master expectically. Unfortunate news could mean basically anything and you could only hope that it wasn’t anything that would massively complicate your relief mission.

“As you know we’re going to deliver supplies to the Gonchee people here, and we don’t know much about them.” You simply nodded, not wanting to interrupt your Master, who continued just a moment later. “Master Yoda just forwarded me recent information we gained about the Gonchee. It seems they see human women as nothing more than, for a lack of a better word, prices or trophies to be won or taken.”

Your curious expression morphed into one of shock and disgust. Of course you knew that not every planet had the same standards when it came to equality between the sexes, but this level of misogyny was something you hadn’t expected to be confronted with.

“If I had known earlier I would have offered to let you stay on Coruscant or accompany another battalion”, Plo tried to apologize. But you just shook your head.

“It’s quite alright, Master. If I am to be a Jedi knight soon I will have to learn to handle situations such as this one, though I cannot say I am happy.”

Plo put a heavy hand on your shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. He knew you were capable of handling yourself and could fight off a couple of Gonchee if necessary, but as your Master he still felt responsible and worried for your safety and wellbeing.

“Master Yoda also said that the Gonchee usually don’t bother married women, they consider them to be claimed by their husband.”

You looked up to your Master, expecting him to continue, but he just stared straight ahead, his expression never betraying his thoughts.

“I am not married, though”, you finally said.

“No, you’re not. You’re a Jedi and shouldn’t have attachments”, he answered.

Part of you wanted to correct him. You were not a Jedi, not yet at least. But the other, bigger, part was overjoyed your Master considered you a Jedi and not just a Padawan.

“I suppose I could ask Commander Wolffe to pretend to be your husband. Just for your safety, of course”, Plo continued.

For a fraction of a second you lost your balance, but quickly managed to catch your footing again. He couldn’t know about your crush on Wolffe, could he? Sure, your Master was a great Jedi, strong in the force, and he knew you better than anyone, having raised you like his own daughter, but you have been so careful to hide your feelings for your commander.

“Only if that’s what you want, of course.”

You took a moment to consider the proposition. Feelings aside, it was a good idea. If being ‘married’ would make sure the Gonchee wouldn’t bother you and ensure you could do your job that was a good thing, the rational thing to do.

Finally you nodded. “Only if Wolffe wants to, though. Otherwise I’ll ask Sinker.”

-------

Wolffe hasn’t been watching you and the General, that would be ridiculous. And of course he hasn’t noticed how your hair shines in the sun or how you smile at your Master with love and trust in your eyes. And when Plo Koon asked to talk to him a while later he wasn’t hoping to find out more about your conversation with him, that thought never crossed his mind.

“Wolffe, I have a favour to ask you.”

Wolffe simply nodded. He would to anything for the kind Jedi who treated him and his brothers like actual people, who never showed them anything other than respect.

“Of course, General. What is it?”

“I want you to be married to (Y/N).”

It took all the self control Wolffe could gather not to look at the Jedi, not to blush and not to let his feelings show.

“Is this a test?”, he asked. Though it seemed out of character for Plo, maybe he was trying to get Wolffe to confess his feelings for you. Feelings he had spent months and months trying to deny and repress, feelings that would get him in more trouble than he could ever imagine if anyone were to find out.

“No, no”, the General reassured his Commander. He then told Wolffe about the situation and why he was asking this of him.

Wolffe nodded along with the explanation before finally daring to look at Plo.

“Did (Y/N) suggest me as her fake husband?”, he asked, trying his best to keep his voice even and steady. He knew it was a arisky question that might tell the Jedi more about his feelings than he should know, but he couldn’t help but wonder and he wouldn’t agree if you would rather be fake married to one of his brothers instead of him.

“It was my idea, though she seemed to be quite happy with you as her ‘husband’“, Plo answered in a tone that told Wolffe the Jedi had to be smiling under his mask. “I just thought you were the obvious choice, considering how close the two of you are.”

Wolffe nodded, not knowing what to say.

“That makes sense”, he finally said.

Plo looked at the young man next to him. Though Wolffe’s expression was usually stoic, now it was even more so. It seemed forced, as if he was trying his best not to let any feelings show. The General couldn’t help but realize just how similar the clone’s expression was to yours just a bit earlier.

“Maybe you should go to (Y/N) to discuss how you’re going to handle the situation. I’ll inform the others to play along”, Plo suggested after a few moments of awkward silence and with a quick “Yes, sir” Wolffe turned around to find you amidst the soldiers.

-------

By the time you were nearing the village, you and Wolffe had just finished your plan.

“Let’s go over it one last time”, he suggested.

You opted not to tell him that that would be the third ‘one last time’, partly because you knew he didn’t like being corrected and would not hesitate so snap at you, partly because going over this plan like any other mission made it easier for you to let it sink in that this was just that, a plan, a mission, pretend. You were not married to Wolffe, nor would you ever be. The two of you were friends, nothing more. Because no matter how you felt, how you’ve been feeling for quite some time now, you could never be together, even on the off chance that Wolffe reciprocated your feelings.

“The Gonchee don’t know anything about Jedi, other than that we’re here to help, so they won’t find our ‘marriage’ suspicious. We’ll them we met at the beginning of the war and have been married for a couple of months. Really, Wolffe, it’s not that complicated, I’m sure we’ll both be able to remember to play the part.”

The snark reply you had been expecting didn’t come. Instead Wolffe simply nodded and stared straight ahead.

“Just remember to keep physical contact to a minimum”, he reminded you for the fifth time.

You rolled your eyes. Sure, Wolffe had never been one for hugs and cuddling, unlike many of his brothers, who often seeked you out for a comforting hug, but he really didn’t have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself every couple of minutes, you were not some hormonal teenager.

“Will do, Commander.”

Without another word, or even so much as a nod, Wolffe speeded up his steps to join Master Plo at the front.

“What’s gotten into your husband?”

You turned around to find Sinker looking at you with an amused expression, Boost right beside him sporting a smug grin.

“Guess he’s just not too thrilled about being fake married to me”, you tried to joke, even though just the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. Of course you knew nothing could ever happen between you, but you’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t hoped that this mission would allow you to pretend for just a little while, to maybe get closer to him.

“If he really didn’t want to do it, he wouldn’t do it. I heard him talking to the General, Plo asked him, he didn’t order him. Wolffe could have stepped down and let one of us take his place. And I’m sure most of us would have happily done so”, Boost claimed, laying a hand on your shoulder and sending you a warm smile.

Maybe it would have been better to do this with someone else, someone who would put his arms around you to really sell the story and who you could laugh about the whole affair with afterwards. And yet you knew that being in a ‘relationship’ with anyone other than Wolffe would have been worse than Wolffe’s obvious dislike of the whole situation.

“It’s fine. Wolffe’s just being Wolffe, he’ll come around once we arrive at the village”, you tried to reassure both the troopers and yourself.

-------

Wolffe had, in fact, not come around by the time you reached the village. He had spent the rest of the way talking to your Master and completely ignoring you. It was moments like this that made you question why you even had feelings for him, he was so hot and cold, sending you gentle smiles and sharing inside jokes one moment and acting like you didn’t even know each other the next. But it was those few moments when his gentler side, which you alway thought was more his true self, showed, that kept you hooked.

It was Plo Koon who interrupted your thoughts by asking you to join him and Wolffe at the front to greet the Gonchee.

The small creatures were no bigger than Jawas, had greenish fur and ears that reminded you of Loth cats, other than that they looked pretty human.

“Good evening. I am General Plo Koon, these are Commander (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Commander Wolffe and the 104th. We were sent by the Republic to deliver supplies and help you reset your village.”

The Gonchee at the front, who seemed to be an older man, bowed his head slightly, the others, all male you realized, followed suit.

“Welcome, Jedi Koon. I see you have brought a female with you, I don’t suppose she’s here to stay with us?”

The way he licked his lips with his yellow tongue made you shudder. You could sense resentment practically rolling off your master at the Gonchee’s words, but more than that it was Wolffe’s arm around your shoulder that calmed you.

“My wife will most certainly not stay with you, she’ll be by my side, always.”

Maybe you imagined that his arm tightened around you as you leaned into him, but you certainly didn’t imagine the growl coming from his throat as the Gonchee looked you up and down.

“Such a shame. Having a human woman is an honor to us, you know and this one seems to be a fine specimen. You’re lucky to have her.”

Though his words sounded as if he was buying your lie and letting go of the thought of having you, whatever that meant, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that he, or any other male Gonchee, would leave you alone. Not even Wolffe looking at you from the side, a small smile on his lips, could relief you of your anxiety.

“I feel like the luckiest man in the galaxy every minute I have her next to me.”

His words were directed at the Gonchee, but somehow they felt like more. Like something one would whisper to a lover in private.

It was only when Plo spoke up again that you could tear your eyes away from Wolffe, from his warm gaze and full lips.

“The men will bring in the supplies now, if you’ll allow, and then we’ll settle for the night.”

The Gonchee at the front nodded.

“Of course, of course. Though the lady should stay with the other women. You see, we don’t allow women to do any physical labour.

-------

Several Gonchee had offered to accompany you to the hut the women of the village spend most of their time in, but you had declined. That didn’t mean you could go alone, however. The entire 104th seemed to have noticed the glances the male Gonchee shot you and had silently agreed to never let you out of their sight while you were in the village. Which is how you found yourself with your hand in the crook of Wolffe’s elbow, being lead to the ‘women’s hut’ as it was called.

“I’ve been to many planets and have met people of many cultures, but none of them were as backwards as the Gonchee. If they could see you in action they would know not to look at you like that”, your companion grumbled.

You swallowed down the urge to tell him that quite a few shinies have made their moves on you in the past, though you had shot all of them down and had to admit that none of them reduced you to your body the way the Gonchee did.

“It’s only for a couple of days. It’ll be like a mini vacation for me, not having to do any work.”

You could feel Wolffe eying you from the side but refused to look his way.

“I wish I could stay with you”, he said, more to himself than to you. “I mean someone. I wish someone, one of us, could stay with you.”

You chuckled. It was rare to see this side of Wolffe, the side that corrected his words, that stuttered and almost seemed nervous.

“I’d like you to stay. But you have a job to do and I can defend myself, should anything happen.”

You placed a hand on his arm, and though you were sure he couldn’t feel it through the plastoid armor, he seemed to relax just a little bit.

“We both know that I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s only for a couple of hours, I’ll be with you again before you know it.”

He nodded, but the frown never left his face entirely.

“I’ll have someone come in and check on you every now and then. It’s not without reason that we have to pretend to be married, we cannot be careful enough.”

Wolffe’s tone told you that there was no use in arguing. And maybe he was right, if even your Master, who you knew would never disregard your ability to fend for yourself, thought it would be safe to always have a man, to always have Wolffe, with you, it couldn’t hurt to be safe rather than sorry.

“Sounds reasonable.”

Just as soon as the words left your mouth you stopped in front of the the small building the Gonchee had told you to go to. It looked ancient and primitive compared to the skyscrapers on Coruscant and shining starships you were used to, but through the open door you could spot pillows and blankets and a roaring fire inside. At least you’d be comfortable.

The women inside seemed to have heard you approaching, because most of them stopped their work and conversations to catch a glance at you and Wolffe.

“I guess this is it”, you said more to yourself than your fellow Commander. He nodded nonetheless.

“Be careful. Don’t do anything reckless.”

You tried your best to swallow any remark since your usual answer to something like that would be exactly what Wolffe would describe as “reckless”.

“I’ll see you soon”; you replied instead. And because you could still feel the eyes of the Gonchee women on you, you lifted yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to Wolffe’s cheek. After all, you had to make your marriage believable.

The low noise Wolffe made shocked you for a split moment. It was a mixture between a grunt and a sigh that didn’t speak of surprise as much as... disbelief? You couldn’t quite place it. Though you tried not to think about it too much as your turned away from him and entered to hut, where the women started questioning you immediately.

-------

True to his word Wolffe had sent someone of the pack to check in on you every ten minutes or so, but despite their reports that you were perfectly fine and just talking to the women of the village, Wolffe only felt a sense of relief when he saw you again himself.

You were sitting next to Sinker on one of the many logs surrounding the fireplace. The rest of the pack as well as Plo Koon were either on logs or the ground nearby while the Gonchee, mostly the men but a few women as well, sat on the other side of the fire.

As Wolffe stepped closer you lifted your head, and as always he couldn’t tell whether you had heard his footsteps or felt his force signature.

The old Gonchee who had greeted you was the first to speak up.

“Ah, the husband returns. Such a shame, I had thought I might have a chance with that lovely woman of yours after all.”

Wolffe knew that the polite thing to do would be to answer him, but one of the first things General Koon taught his men was that it was better to say nothing at all if you didn’t have anything nice to say. So he simply walked over to where you were sitting and squeezed himself into the space between you and the end of the log, which resulted in you being squished between him and Sinker. A scenario Wolffe, being the overly protective man he is, usually wasn’t too fond of, but in this the more of the Wolfpack were around you, the better.

It was only when he felt you moving impossibly closer to him, when he smelled the last clinging bit of your sweet perfume, that had somehow endured the walk to the village and your time in the women's’ hut, that he was finally able to relax. You’d be right next to him, or at least one of his brothers or the General, for the rest of the night, meaning you were safe from the Gonchee for now.

Suddenly he felt your lips right next to his ear, your breath hitting his skin.

“If we wanna sell this marriage you cannot just sit there like a droid, Wolffe.”

The way you whispered, almost purred, his name made shivers run down his spine. And though he tried to suppress it, your soft giggle told him that you’d noticed.

With a small sigh he put his arm around your waist and pulled you even closer to him. So close that he could practically feel your body melting into his, though he tried not to think about how right it felt to have you in his arms, how your body seemed to perfectly fit right next to his.

“Is this better?”, he whispered in your ear. Out of the corner of his eye he could see you biting your lip and even pressing your thighs together. He shook his head, he must have imagined that. It was probably just you trying to get comfortable in this new position.

“How long have to two of you been married?”, one of the younger Gonchee asked.

For just a moment you tensed beneath Wolffe’s arm before relaxing again.

“Just a couple of months”, you replied. Your smooth lie impressed Wolffe, being raised by Plo Koon you were usually a fan of telling the truth and he couldn’t help but wonder where you learned to lie like that.

“And you let your wife fight?”, another Gonchee asked, the disbelief clear in his voice.

Wolffe sneaked a glance at you. How could anyone look at you and not see a warrior? Sure, your appearance might not be the most threatening, but wasn’t it obvious that the way you pressed your lips together spoke of determination? That you eyes told anyone who looked into them how much you’ve been through and how deeply you cared? That your hands were calloused from holding a lightsaber and yet soft enough to comfort a clone in distress?

“It’s not up to me whether she fights or not.”

A grumble of disagreement was heard from the assembled Gonchee, or at least from the men.

“We are very fortunate to have a warrior as great as (Y/N) fighting besides us every day”, the General said after a while. For anyone who knew him it was obvious that he was trying to end the subject while defending you at the same time, but the Gonchee seemed to think of his statement as a challenge.

“But what about children? How will she carry children if she is fighting?

From the way your shoulders tensed underneath Wolffe’s arm he could tell that you were close to telling the Gonchee of once and for all, and apparently SInker on your other side could tell as well, because now he jumped into the conversation.

“They’re still newly weds, children can wait until the honeymoon phase is over, don’t you agree?”

The oldest Gonchee leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

“We do not care for such sentiments. Our women cook our food, sow our clothes, take care of our children and warm our beds, believe me, it’s easier that way. Perhaps you should try it, Commander.”

For what felt like the thousandth time that day Wolffe looked at you. Of course you knew that you had to represent the Republic wherever you went, but usually that didn’t stop you from speaking up for what’s right. He wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed by or concerned about your self restraint.

“It’s very different in our culture. We marry for love, most of the time at least”, you finally said. And if he hadn’t been staring at you already Wolffe would never have noticed the way your eyes flitted over to him when you said “love”.

Several of the Gonchee opened their mouth to argue, but lucky for the entire 104th a few women carrying trays with various foods and drinks appeared and rendered the men silent.

-------

Shortly after a near silent meal your Master stood up.

“I suppose it would be best for us to call it a night. We will have to be up early tomorrow if we want to reach out ship again before nightfall.”

The Gonchee leader stood up as well and slightly bowed his head before the Jedi.

“Very well. We have prepared our assembly hut for you, I will show you the way.” He stopped for a moment and looked over to where you were still sitting between Wolffe and Sinker. “Though I know you follow different customs, we Gonchee do not allow women to sleep in a room with people they’re not related or married to, which is why we have also prepared an empty hut for the Commander and his wife. And I suppose they will need privacy so she can perform her marital duties. My son will show them the way”

You were quite certain that at one point throughout the day your own rank as Commander had been mentioned, but even though you really wanted to correct the old Gonchee, you were tired of dealing with them all day and decided against it. Though the same could not be said for the Wolfpack. Several of them, including Wolffe and Sinker next to you as well as Boost next to Sinker, spoke up to correct him.

A younger Gonchee, who you assumed was said son, stood up and looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Alright, Commanders”, he said. The ironic way in which he pronounced the word made Wolffe roll his eyes, which by now you could tell even if you weren’t looking at him. “Follow me.”

The two of you bid goodnight to the others and did as the Gonchee had said. The thought of probably having to share a bed with Wolffe crossed your mind for a moment, but it was gone as soon as it came. Though as soon as the son opened the door to a small hut, smaller than any you had seen before, it returned.

The ceiling was low, the room was small and the only pieces of furniture were a small bed and a single bedside table.

“It’s not much but it’ll do for the night”, the Gonchee said. Though the words were probably supposed to be apologetic, his tone was anything but.

Wolffe, bowing his head due to the low ceiling, stepped into the hut while you remained outside. That, however, proved to be a mistake just a moment later, because the Gonchee stepped closer, closer than you would have wanted, and looked up at you.

“You might rather spend the night in my room, it’s bigger and more comfortable and I could really use someone in my bed, especially a pretty human woman such as yourself.”

Due to his words and the way he eyed you, especially with your private parts almost in his eyeline because of his short height, you wanted nothing more than to punch him. Maybe kick him. Maybe cut off something of his with your lightsaber. And if it hadn’t been for Wolffe you would have, and ruined your mission within a split second.

But there was Wolffe, knight in plastoid armour protecting you from any rash decisions. He had left the hut and was now standing behind you, from where he put his arms around your middle and, you were sure, glared daggers at the Gonchee.

“I suggest you leave my wife alone”, he growled and tightened his grip on you even more.

You weren’t sure whether it was his words, the growl or his arms around you and your back to his chest, but something about his behaviour did something to you. Something that would make it a million times harder to share a room, share a bed, with him tonight. As if your crush on the Commander wasn’t already bad enough...

“I thought in your culture you love the one you marry and if you love this woman you wouldn’t want her to miss out on spending a night with a real man, would you?”

If the situation wasn’t so tense you would have laughed. A real man? He was covered in fur!

“Wolffe gives me everything I need and more. I wouldn’t leave him for any man in the entire galaxy.”

It was only when the words left your mouth that you realized just how true they were. You really had to get that under control, having a crush on your fellow Commander was bad enough, you would not allow yourself to actually fall in love with him. You couldn’t jeopardize your friendship, your future as a Jedi knight, everything and everyone you’ve ever known for a man who you knew thought of you as a friend.

The Gonchee looked you up and down one last time before glaring at Wolffe.

“Then I suppose I should bid the two of you good night.”

And without another word he turned around and left the two of you alone.

As soon as he was gone Wolffe let go of you and put some distance between you.

“You should lie down, you must be tired after dealing with those idiots all day.”

His words made you turn around to face him. Once again you just couldn’t read him. One moment he made your heart beat faster by actually acting like your husband and the next he pretended like you were nothing more than acquaintances. But for once you grew tired of this behaviour and refused to oblige, instead you stepped closer to him again and put a hand on one of the arm he had crossed across his chest.

“I’m sure you’re just as tired, if not more. Let’s both go to bed.”

He raised one eyebrow, but other than that he didn’t make a move to break contact with you again.

“There’s only one bed.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, a gesture you had often copied from Wolffe himself.

“I know that. But we’re old enough and trust each other enough to sleep in the same bed for one night”, you argued. You didn’t know what made you do it, but you couldn’t resist the urge to lean even closer, stand up on your tiptoes and whisper into his ear. “You’re my husband, after all. And husband and wife usually sleep in the same bed. And how else are you supposed to protect me from the Gonchee?”

You were too close to his ear to actually see his face, but you were sure he was smirking as he scoffed.

“I thought you were plenty capable of handling the Gonchee yourself, Commander.”

The way he said your title did something to you you’d rather not investigate any further. He was teasing, of course he was, but though two could play that game you were simply too tired.

“Just join me in bed when you’re ready. Otherwise you’ll have to sleep on the cold floor and I’ll have to explain to Master Plo why his Commander is sore all over tomorrow.” You could have left it at that, you should have, but you just had to add one more sentence. “And I can think of more pleasant ways to make you sore.”

As you left him standing and entered the hut you could hear a choked noise coming from him.

-------

“Finally decided to join me?”, you teased when Wolffe slipped underneath the cover.

Wolffe didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of an answer, couldn’t think at all. Not with you so close, laying beside him, trusting him to sleep next to you, to defend you if any of the Gonchee were to try something while you were in your most defenseless state.

“Wolffe”, you whispered after a moment of silence.

Now he had no choice but to answer.

“What is it?”, he grunted. And instantly regretted his gruff reply. This was his one chance to have you close, to forget that there was no way the two of you could ever be more than friends.

“Thank you, for today. And tonight. I’m glad you’re my ‘husband’.”

Wolffe wasn’t good with words, but in that moment he really had no idea what to say.

“It really showed us what we’re missing, didn’t it? The chance to be in love, to be married and not have to hide your feelings”, you continued.

For a second Wolffe’s heart stopped beating. Could you be talking about him not having to hide your feelings or was is just a general statement? Or did you maybe mean that you... No, that was impossible.

“Anyways, we should get some sleep now, we have an early start tomorrow”, you concluded.

From then on it only took a few seconds for your breathing to even out and just was Wolffe was about to sigh in relief that he no longer had to pretend that being near you wasn’t affecting him, you rolled over from your back onto your side and were now pressed up against Wolffe.

It wasn’t just his heart that stopped now, his breathing did as well. How could he move even to take another breath with you so close, with your head resting underneath his chin, your legs intertwined with his and your arm lazily thrown over his torso.

“Damn it”, he mumbled, though he instantly came to regret having made a sound. Luckily you were still fast asleep, if anything you cuddled up even closer to Wolffe.

Slowly, more careful than he had ever been, he lifted his own arm to wrap it around your waist and pull you even closer. He let out a content sigh, breathing in the scent of your shampoo in the process.

Wolffe knew for a fact that he wouldn’t get any sleep that night. This was his one chance to share a bed with you, and even though he would have loved to fall asleep and wake up next to you, he preferred cherishing every second of the night.

-------

The next morning you were woken up not by the sun shining directly in your face, nor Wolffe’s sort snoring or the birds chirping outside, but by the unfamiliar voices speaking in what you recognized as the language of the Gonchee.

You decided that it might be best to pretend to still be asleep, which is why you moved even closer to Wolffe and buried your head underneath his chin. In turn he pulled you closer to him, which made you realize that he had had one arm around you the entire time. You were almost too distracted by the warm and comforting presence of Wolffe next to you and the safety his arm around your waist guaranteed to notice that his breathing changed as he slowly woke up. Though like you Wolffe must have decided not to make it known that he was awake, it was only the more uneven breaths and the stiffening of his body that made it obvious.

“Might I ask why you have invaded my commanders’ privacy?”, a familiar voice cut through the Gonchees’ conversation. And though you knew that it was safe to ‘wake up’ not that Plo Koon was here, both you and Wolffe still pretended to be fast asleep. Which had nothing to do with the fact that you simply didn’t want to face a reality where you weren’t cuddling in bed with Wolffe, nothing at all.

“We... I....”, one of the Gonchee stammered.

“We were here to wake them up”, another voice, who you recognized as the leader’s son, tried to explain.

You both heard and sensed you master coming closer, and though part of you was worried what he may say, or worse think, about the position you and Wolffe were in, the bigger part was comforted by the fact that the Gonchee were either afraid enough or had enough respect for the Jedi to hurry out of the hut within seconds.

“I know you’re awake.” Your Plo’s voice sounded amused rather than mad, though to be fair, in all your years of being his Padawan you had only seen him angry a handful of times, and almost never at you.

It took a lot of self-restraint to fight the urge to cuddle closer to Wolffe for one last second before opening your eyes, but you managed. In moments like these you really wished Plo wouldn’t have to wear a mask, it would make it worlds easier to guess his feelings if you could just see his face.

“I take it the two of you slept well?”, he asked. “The Gonchee certainly seemed to think so.”

You didn’t know what to say. Was there anything you could say without letting either Wolffe or Plo Koon know just how well you slept with your fellow commander by your side? How much you never wanted to go to sleep without him in your arms again and how much you already missed him, now that he was just a few centimeters away?

“Did you understand them, sir?”, Wolffe asked. It didn’t escape your notice that he didn’t answer the question either, though that could simply be due to the fact that Wolffe despised small talk, even with the man who was like a father to him.

“I understood enough to know that they believe the two of you to be very much in love. As well as a few comments I’d rather not repeat, or think about ever again”, Plo replied. As he spoke his eyes shifted between you and Wolffe, though you tried your best not to meet his gaze. You knew that he could already tell more than enough about your emotions through your force connection, if he saw your face, saw the love and admiration that must be visible in your eyes, he would know just how much you cared for Wolffe.

“I’ll let you get ready then. Be outside in 10 minutes, we’re leaving in 20.” With those words Master Plo turned around, left the hut and left the two of you alone.

You looked over at Wolffe, who, same as you, was leaning against the wobbly headboard.

“For what it’s worth, I really did sleep well. Better than I had in a long time”, you said with a slight smile on your lips. Maybe this was overstepping a boundary, but right now you didn’t care.

All Wolffe, in a very characteristic yet disappointing, fashion did was nod before standing up and starting to put on the first pieces of his armour. Other than you, who had actually changed into a pyjama while Wolffe had still been outside the hut last night, he had slept in his blacks and didn’t really have to change, or rather undress.

You, however, did. At first you glanced around the hut, looking for some sort of privacy you knew you wouldn’t find. Then you considered your options: You could ask Wolffe to leave, or to simply turn around, while you would change and he’d do it with probably only an amused smile, or you could just change real quick while he was still busy with his armour. In the blink of an eye you decided on the second option, partly because Wolffe, as well as the other clones in the 104th, had seen you bloody and sweaty, with torn clothes and in various states of undress before, either in the medbay or when you had been in a particular hurry, but mostly you just didn’t want to send Wolffe away, not after having spent the night together.

It was only when you had already changed into your regular trousers and just put on your bra when you came to regret your decision.

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing?”, Wolffe asked, his tone mostly shocked, though there was an emotion in there you couldn’t quite decipher.

“What does it look like? I’m changing.”

You had previously had your back turned to Wolffe, but his question, or rather the way in which he asked, gave you the confidence boost needed to turn around and face him.

“Would you rather I went out in my pyjama?”

This trip really was proving to be most unusual, since Wolffe seemed to be speechless.

“Of course not”, he finally said, though his voice did sound a bit off. “But you could have asked me to leave.”

By now you really didn’t know where your confidence was coming from, but as if an autopilot you stepped closer to him, close enough to see the way his eyes, as well as his pupils, widened.

“Maybe I didn’t want you to leave.”

It was a bold statement, and maybe not entirely true, but it seemed to do the trick, since a smirk found its way to Wolffe’s lips. His eyes, previously focused on your eyes, flitted down to your chest for a moment before going back up again.

“Then what is it you wanted me to do?”, he asked. “What do you want?” A clear challenge to either back down or take a leap. A challenge you shouldn’t accept, but found yourself really wanting to.

“I want you to be here, with me. I want you to be with me wherever I go. I want you next to me in bed when I go to sleep at night and when I wake up the next morning. I want you to always look at me the way you’re doing right now. I want you to touch me and kiss me and make me yours. Maker, Wolffe, I want you!”

The words were out of your mouth without thinking. Just like that, you had voiced every thought running through your brain, made yourself vulnerable to Wolffe’s reaction, whatever it might be. Though you had never expected it to be an arm, already covered in plastoid, to wrap around your waist and a hand, warm and steady, on the back of your neck.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that”, he mumbled before crashing his lips against yours.

Though you didn’t have much experience, you knew that this was what a kiss was supposed to be. It was not a clashing of teeth, like your first kiss, nor hesitant and barely there, like your second, but a perfect mixture. Wolffe wasn’t rough, though there was just enough force to tell you that he could be if that’s what you wanted. His lips worked against yours as if they were made to, teeth softly grazing your bottom lip a few times before biting down. He nibbled on your lip, then caressed it with his tongue before giving the same treatment to your top lip. Some time during the kiss your hands had found their way into his hair, pulling it and pulling him closer at the same time, finally feeling the soft strands between your fingers and causing Wolffe to moan at the sensation. By the time his tongue made its way into your mouth you could have sworn that your legs were made of jelly, that you had moved on to whatever came after this life, that this was a dream.

Even when Wolffe pulled away to catch his breath you didn’t dare to open your eyes, afraid of the reality you would find if you did.

You heard Wolffe’s low chuckle before his lips were on you again. This time he gently kissed your cheeks, the corners of your lips, before making his way down. He spread small bites on your jaw and then followed his teeth with his tongue, soothing the slight sting. Though it was a spot high up on your neck, just beneath your jaw, that finally got a reaction from you. You tightened your grip on his hair as his lips ghosted over the spot and moaned when they pressed harder.

“So needy”, Wolffe chuckled.

All you did to reply was pull his head up again for another kiss, one that was faster and more heated than the last. Though as soon as you pulled away his lips found their way to the same spot again. He began to suck while at the same time pulling you back to the bed. You wondered how he had enough sense to sit down and pull you into his lap, all your thinking had abandoned you the moment his lips first met yours.

“Wolffe, I - kriff, stop -”, you panted.

As soon as you said the word he pulled away, though his hands still had a grip on you, it loosened and he looked at you with nothing but love and lust in his eyes.

“What is it, mesh’la?”

For a moment you leaned your forehead against his shoulder before straightening up again and looking at him.

“As much as I’d love for you to leave hickeys all over, we both know that you can’t. No one can know this ever happened”, you told him, making sure to put just enough authority in your voice to make him take you seriously.

A sly grin was on his lips as soon as the words left your mouth.

“I know, cyare”, he reassured you. He leaned closer again, though this time his lips didn’t move to your neck, but to your ear. “But later I’ll mark you in places where no one but me will see.”

The thought alone send shivers down your spine and heat to your core, but it also placed a smile on your face.

“Looking forward to it”, you said and placed a quick peck on his lips. Though you should have known that Wolffe wouldn’t leave it at that. He pulled you closer once again, the hand on your waist now moving upwards and to the front until it cupped your breast. Gently, in stark contrast to the way he bit down on your lip, he squeezed and massaged in before moving on to the other one.

Another moan escaped your lips, this one even louder.

“Careful, we don’t want anyone to hear you, do we?”

You were about to nod in agreement when an idea popped into your head.

“I bet hearing me would make the Gonchee really believe that we’re married.”

Wolffe chuckled as he once again moved his hands to your waist.

“I think they already believe us, cyare.”

-------

It had taken the two of you a while to finally separate and make yourselves look presentable, and only when you heard Sinker calling for the last men to hurry up did you finally leave the hut.

Now, on your way back to the ship, the two of you were finally together again after you had talked to Plo Koon and Wolffe to the other clones for a while.

“You know, I’m really glad it was you I was fake married to”, you confessed in a whisper.

Wolffe’s hand brushed against yours for a second while he chuckled.

“You know, maybe one day we can scratch the ‘fake’.”

He saw the surprise in your eyes as you looked up to him. Truth be told, he hadn’t meant to say that in that moment, but he knew he wanted it to be true. Some day, when the war was over, if you would still want him by your side by then.

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much”, you said with a smile. “But first, I think there’s something else we need to do, once we have some time and privacy.”

Wolffe knew exactly what you were talking about, and though he couldn’t wait to feel you, to hear you and touch you again, he also couldn’t wait for the day he would get to call you his wife for real. Maybe, after such a long time of denying his feelings and then refusing to act on them, this trip to the Gonchee village and pretending to be married had been good for something after all.

I tried to put a little bit of everything (and by ‘everything’ I mean some of my favourite tropes) into this story, I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. <3

#wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #commander wolffe x you #wolffe x y/n #commander wolffe x y/n #commander wolffe imagine #wolffe imagine

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supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

5th dimension

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader

Word count: 2750.

Please check out the notes in the end :)

It’s the first thing that you see when you go downstairs for breakfast early in the morning after the big party. Kara is in her super suit leaning over the kitchen island. Lena is next to her, sitting on one of the high stools, and Alex is on the other side talking to them. This obviously doesn't look good for you, after you just sneaked out the night before.

You honestly thought you would get away with it. If Kara had seen you last night, if Lena had noticed her car was missing, or even if Alex had figured you and Jamie weren’t really in the Fortress, they would’ve done something immediately. They wouldn’t let you enjoy the party in your super suit, then sneak back home pretending you did nothing wrong. Right? It’s what you hoped, anyway.

But when you woke up today, and checked your phone, you knew there’s no way in hell they don’t know. Of course they don’t follow stupid teens on social media, but there were a lot of pictures of you hanging in this party. A lot. An absurd amount. So, obviously, first thing in the morning you got an alert on your phone for a piece called ‘This Super Knows How To Party’.

Ah, damn.

So when you see the three of them, suspiciously waiting for something in the kitchen, you turn around in silence, ready to make your way back upstairs when you hear, “Good morning, sunshine.”

You bite your lip. Ah, crap. You turn around to see all of them staring at you, with not so friendly faces and raised eyebrows. “Good morning, mommy.”

Kara smirks. Well aware you’re using ‘mommy’ to try and make her side with you. Pathetic for someone who was just claiming to be rebellious.

“You, um, what brings you by, so early on a Saturday? I thought you would both be working.” You gulp, walking in a little bit closer.

“Well, we wanted to come in and talk to Alex to make sure it was actually ok for you to stay here.” Lena answers and you raise your eyebrow, wondering if that’s all this visit brings.

“And I was telling them how good it is to have you here with Jamie, and that you two are having a really fun time. Right?”

“Mhm.” You force a smile out of your lips, still scared to do more.

“Why do you think we’re here?” Kara asks, hands on her hips, and a fake concerned look on her face.

You see, they might know everything about you, but you know them very much as well. This feels like a weird, staged play. Kara is standing there with her heart on her throat, giving you a sheepish smile, in a very uncomfortable pose. Lena is looking too soft, which would be a relief if your last two interactions with her weren’t so downright bad, so you know it’s impossible for this sweet little face of her not to be an act. And Alex has her interrogation room face.

They obviously want the truth out of you. But they want to get it without asking, otherwise they would lose their upper hand. And you could just come out and give it to them. But you're still raging at the fact they can come here and stage this little scene, but they can’t be there for you. So no, you’re not going to give them the truth just yet. They want a weird, staged interaction? Sure. You can give them that. You can join their play.

“To be honest, I thought you and auntie were working on the case and mom got lost on her way to L Corp.” You shrug, faking a sense of relief that doesn’t make justice of how you actually feel. “But good to know you took the time to come all the way over here to ask her if it was ok for me to stay, but couldn’t quite do such when I needed attention.”

“Well, if we’re also being honest-” Kara says with a little hint of skepticism with that word. “There is something else we’re here for.”

“Oh?”

“You see,” Lena takes it away and you look at her. “I managed the crisis at L Corp. And Supergirl caught the invisible threat that was terrorizing National City.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah! So we thought-” Kara starts and you’re sure they’re going to ask you to come back home. But you don’t know if you want that yet. Sure, being a rebellious teen doesn’t make any sense if they’re not being absent and aloof, but you thought that if you left they would make a bigger deal about you coming back. You didn’t expect these weird faces and blank stares. You expected hugs and forehead kisses and apologies. “Well, your mom and I thought-”

“That we could go on a little vacation.” Lena completes and you furrow your eyebrows, completely lost.

Did they go totally bonkers?

“Huh?”

“Yeah.” Kara agrees, adjusting the non-existent glasses on her face, then smoothing her hand over her suit when she realizes she is dressed as Supergirl, and not Kara. “We were thinking, you would stay here with your aunts, and we would go out of town and work on our stuff.” She says looking at Lena, and they share a look.

“Wait, wait. So let me get this right-” You probably missed something. There’s no way in hell they would just go on vacation with things this distressing between the three of you. “Two days ago, you weren’t going anywhere with your problems. I needed you both, but hell,” Kara hardens her features at you, but doesn’t interrupt you. “Your problems were too hard. And now that I came to stay with Aunt Alex, then suddenly you handled everything and now are leaving on vacation without me?

You can’t believe this! Here you were, thinking they were going to ask you to go back home, and here you were lying to yourself you didn’t know if you wanted back yet. But now that you know they don’t want you back it’s when it dawns on you, you really just want this to stop and go back home. Snuggle with them on the couch and watch a dumb little family movie. You just want your best friends back. You don’t want to lie anymore. You want Lena to look at you and know exactly what you’re thinking and feeling. You want Kara to tell you that you are her heart, you desperately want that again.

But, apparently, they have other plans.

Lena seems to be considering the information. “Well, you did say for us to deal with our old crappy habits.”

“Do you have to deal with them on vacation? You can do that from home?”

“We could.” They look at each other again, agreeing with their heads. “But, um, kid, there’s more we need to work on. And honestly, we’ve worked so hard this past week, we just want to be trouble-free somewhere far away from here.”

Trouble-free.

Kid-free.

Got it.

“In that case, I’m really happy you two handled your life and death crisis all alone.” You don’t even fake the sarcasm in your voice. You literally gave Kara the means to go after the threat in National City. You gave Lena plenty of ideas of how to deal with the L Corp crisis, and you’re sure she used at least one of them. But sure, they’ve worked so hard, they deserve to be trouble-free.

You feel stupid. It’s a really odd feeling for a genius. You feel like a silly little girl, waiting for her moms to notice her. You broke rules! You sneaked out to a party, took Lena’s car without permission, compromised your secret identity, showed a totally different side of the Supers; you thought this would surely call their attention. Even if it was a bad kind of attention and not the one you actually wanted, still you were sure they were going to see you.

But no, here they are talking about going on a vacation, and leaving you behind. Here they are telling you that no matter what you do, you won’t have their attention. You were so foolish. So, so dumb for someone so smart.

OK, then.

“Well, I’m glad my absence made things easier for you.” You try to hold down the pain inside you, holding the tears that are threatening to fall from your eyes. “I wouldn’t want to make Aunt Alex's life so damn hard as well, so I think it’s best if I just… Disappear.”

Kara looks like she’s about to panic. Her heart beats fast and her breath itches. She holds her hands up, about to launch herself into a ‘no no no’ sequence.

But before that, Lena stands up on her chair with wide eyes. “That’s not what we’re saying.”

“You might as well.”

You know, the thing with being a (dumb) genius is that sometimes Lena thinks she might have shut down an experiment before it was successful, when in reality it was on the palm of your hand, on your phone, this entire time. Coordinates ready, fully downloaded, ready to go.

“But no need to worry, go on to your little vacation. I’m happy to comply.” You’re one touch away to have the portal opening in front of you. “I should go on a vacation of my own.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Kara finally launches herself into the sequence and you touch your phone, portal opening in one second, you cross it, and one second later it’s closed again.

Let them have a nice fun time without you. You can’t believe you thought they were going there to get you, when they were actually there to tell you they needed more time away from you. Well then, have it. You’re perfectly safe in… You look around. Huh, this sure doesn’t look like Storybrooke.

You look down on your phone to see that somehow you’ve changed the location to where you were going. Oh great. Where the hell did you get yourself now?

“What are you doing here?”

“Mxy!” You scream, hand on your chest, when a familiar figure shows up in front of you out of thin air. You look around the nothingness of the room. “Where am I?”

“Fifth dimension.”

“Uh.” You look at your phone. How did you end up here? “I sure wasn’t aiming for here.” Then you look up to him. “So, um, where’s everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t this your home? Shouldn’t you have, like, I don’t know, at least a chair to sit on?”

“This is pure magic, buttercup. You want a chair? Here.” A chair appears behind you, and he throws in behind, making you fall in it. “Not comfortable? Have an armchair then.” It changes right under you. “Couch? Bed? Trampoline?”

“Ok, I got it!” You say when you feel your body bouncing back on the trampoline. “If you can have all that, why did you go for this all-white, void look?”

“Oh, I’m downsizing.” He shrugs. “And you’re not supposed to be here.” You’re up on your feet and there’s nothing under you in a second.

“I know!” You grab your phone again. “I was going to Storybrooke, but apparently I pressed something wrong on the portal.” You look up to him. “Oh well, it was ok to see you again, I guess. I should go now.”

But you don’t move, no matter how many times you press the button, or switch the parameters, nothing happens.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually that third dimensional science doesn’t work against fifth dimensional magic.”

You lift your eyes at him, looking unamused. “I’m sure I will.” You growl. “Ok then, how do I leave?”

“You know, the good and old fifth dimensional magic.” He gives you a little smile and shows you his fingers. He doesn’t look like he will help, though.

“Hey there, my good fellow Mxytopololik-”

“That’s far from correct but go on. I want to see how this goes.”

“Well, remember that time you took me to the future in another reality and left me stranded there?” You ask and he gives you a chuckle remembering about it. You press your lips, not finding it at all fun. “This would be a good time to help a girl out.”

“Lucky for you, I do have to make it up for people that I wronged.” Mxy rolls his eyes, annoyed. “Stupid 5th dimension rule.”

“Oh, how sad for you.” You fake it, but he doesn’t seem to enjoy it. “I mean, um, can you give me a little hand, buddy? Send me back to the third dimension? You can drop me off on any Earth, really. I’ll find my way back to my Earth.”

“I’m surprised on why you would want to go back there.” Mxy says, snapping his fingers, and a large TV appears in the middle of the room you’re in.

The TV starts playing the scene you just lived. Your moms saying they’re going on vacation, and you standing there looking like you’re about to break into an ugly cry. You were, anyway.

“I wouldn’t want to make Aunt Alex's life so damn hard as well, so I think it’s best if I just… Disappear.”

He pauses on this sentence. And you look at him biting your lower lip.

“You did. You disappeared.” You harden your jaw. Sure you disappeared, but this was far from what you wanted. You wanted to be in the arms of a loving family right now, not in a void from an imp from the 5th dimension. This is nothing like the vacation you said you were going to. “Why would you want to go back to them? They wanted to go on a vacation without you.”

“Maybe they didn’t mean it.” You don’t know if you’re trying to convince him, or yourself. All you know is that right now you’re very sorry you’re stuck here and staying at Aunt Alex’s house looks a lot better than what you’re doing.

“Oh, toots. Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Mxy gives you an evil little grin.

Ah, fuck. Stupid imp is right.

You sit on the floor -since there’s nothing on the room- and you can’t hold the tears anymore. From that point on, you’re just saying a bunch of nonsense in between your tears and hiccups. You’re loud crying, muttering, in a hunched posture. Mxyzplk looks lost, like he has no idea on how to calm you down. You don’t think there’s anything he can say that can do that for you right now.

“You’re right! They don’t even love me anymore.”

“No, no. That’s not what I said! They love you!”

You lay your back on the floor, and curl yourself, in a fetal position, clinching your face, feeling like your erratic breathing is getting stuck in your lungs. “I hate it, I hate all of this. I want to go home. This is the worst day of my life.”

“Now, that cannot possibly be true. You came really close to death a handful of times.”

“But at least I knew they loved me and that they were going to miss me!” You feel the hot tears wetting your pajama’s shirt and Mxy looks like he is about to snap.

“Ok, enough with this.” You’re up on your feet after a snap of fingers. Your tears are dried with another snap. “You won. I will show you their reaction to your leaving.”

“What?” Even though you’re not crying anymore, your voice still comes out small.

“Here. All the possible outcomes from your little stunt. These will show your moms’ possible reactions.” He snaps his fingers again and you see a bunch of tapes on the floor.

“Tapes?” You look completely lost. “May I introduce you to hard drives? You know, even pen drives would make a better job at storing this.”

“You really are your mom’s daughter.” He sighs. “Do you want to watch them or what?”

“Ok, geez. No need to get defensive.” Although you do understand why he is. You are a little bit annoying. A second ago you were curled on the floor crying, and now you’re being a nerd about tapes.

“So what are we watching first?” He asks, and you kneel down to read the titles.

“This one.” You give the first tape to him. He sets everything up. A couch appears in front of the screen, popcorn and soda too. He puts the tape in and looks at you, waiting for your permission. You sit back on the couch, nods, and he presses play.

Notes:

Hey guys, Superkid is in the fifth dimension watching tapes (like momma, like daughter). And I thought it would be fun to write the tapes you would like to read. So here's a list of tapes I thought of, you can comment which ones you would like to 'watch' and I'll write that and post 1 drabble every day next week (total of 5).

Tape 1: Kara and Lena don't care and go on vacation.

Tape 2: Kara and Lena get depressed over SK disappearing.

Tape 3: Lena goes on a solo mission.

Tape 4: Kara goes to other realities/universes.

Tape 5: Lena goes full Luthor and kills Supergirl.

Tape 6: Kara gets maniac and kills half of National City.

Tape 7: Jamie has to tell Maya SK secret identity (good reaction).

Tape 8: Jamie has to tell Maya SK secret identity (bad reaction).

Tape 9: Kara and Lena split up.

Tape 10: Everyone’s reaction to SK disappearing (all of her family and Maya).

Let me know in the comments which ones you would like to read, please and thank you! ❤️💙

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #supercorpfamily #lena luthor #supercorp daughter #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #alex danvers #reader insert

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bibbykins · 3 years

Text

Penumbric Commitments (M)

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!! I wrote this up real quick yesterday, so please forgive any lacking in quality, but I had the idea and absolutely sprinted with it! I hope you all enjoy and look forward to the next full length fic I post, which I gave a not so little hint in here to!

Warnings: 18+, unhealthy relationship, manipulation, yelling, rough sex, light bondage, the usage of a belt as wrist restraints (consensual), brief fingering, male cumming inside, talking about not wanting a child, daddy kink, threatening to leave, offering to kill someone, semi-graphic talks of killing someone

Word count: 3.8k

Genre: Soft Yandere, Mafia! Au

Summary: Hindsight says Namjoon so easily complying with not having children was too easy considering his position in the business and the nightmare his parents had readily become. What you didn't realize was how far Namjoon was willing to prove to you he meant what he said that day: all you both ever need is each other.

Note: this is a canon drabble apart of the Silhouetted Bonds fic linked here

It's times like these that you regret getting a traditional clock. The ticking was incessant and daunting. It felt like it was getting closer and closer to your ear with the deafening silence it was slicing through. Analogs had to be the way to go, or better yet, none at all. The last thing you needed right now was a reminder of how much time has been spent at this table. Namjoon had sprinted home the moment his mother called him after your meeting with her.

----

"Mrs. Kim, always a pleasure." You shook the older woman's hand with a tight smile.

She returned yours with an equally fake smile, "Please, you know you can call me mother." She chided, but nevertheless you stayed silent as you sat back down at the table in your home. It used to be mom.

It was 8 a.m. your mother in law wanted to meet, so to be petty, you stated 9 a.m. would be great. It's a shame that your relationship with her came to this, but truthfully, it was far from your fault.

While in the beginning she had been like a mother to you, things quickly took a steep downturn the moment Namjoon reintroduced you into his life. The woman who had once been lively, rebellious, and took charge became a demure, stoic, and merely content wife. She had given you talks about your duty as the wife of the boss and the expectations she expected you to fulfill nowadays as opposed to telling stories of her youth and teaching you how to bake eccentric treats. She had even admonished you for leaving Namjoon, an idea she gave you really. Since then, she had always stated your allegiance to the business and your own husband had yet to be proven in her eyes. The notion struck you to only provide her with business professional talks.

You had always known her and Namjoon's father had been a marriage of convenience, but there seemed to be intense love between them, at least at one point. You're not sure when that collapsed in your absence, and sure you felt bad,but you did not care for her patronizing tones. If Namjoon wouldn't retaliate, she almost definitely would've had you killed the moment you decided to leave her precious son.

"Now, I understand you're a busy woman, so I'll be chaste." She spoke as she took her seat, giving you a pointed look, "Do you feel as though you've made up for your betrayal?" This was obviously a trick question in her eyes, the simple answer being no.

However, you couldn't care less, "I have never betrayed anyone close to me, including Namjoon, if that's what you mean." You met her eyes with valor, "I don't see why you feel the need to ask such a silly question each time I see you."

She laughed humorlessly, "Maybe I'm hoping for the right answer to cross your stubborn mind." Truly, if Namjoon didn't love and cherish his parents so much you would've told her to fuck off and mind her business, maybe focus on her own shitty marriage, by now. Alas, Namjoon was a people pleaser and fiercely intent on being a filial son.

"You mean your answer to the question about how I feel?" You raised a brow, "Even when apart from Namjoon, I took no other man. I've never even lied to Namjoon, I've been nothing but an honest and hardworking wife after forgiving his own shortcoming in honesty." You watch her fist clench in her lap at the suggestion of her precious boy having a shortcoming of any sort, "A shortcoming well remedied, seeing as I'm still here." You chided lightly in spite of the heavy tension. You pitied your staff in this moment for having to watch this battle of wills.

"Sometimes husbands lie to… protect, their wives." She struggled to find the right words as she regurgitated what Namjoon's father undoubtedly told her one too many times. Misery loves company, and goodness, did she want you to be as miserable as her.

You returned her fake smile two fold before speaking, "That's lovely, but I don't need protecting from my husband, I need trust, honesty, respect." The final word made her back straighten, "I'd like to live in reality with him, not be shielded from it, but I respect what you wish for your own marriage, but this is what I like for mine."

She hummed in faux thought, "Very well, I can leave you to reflect on what marriage should be, you're still so young." You fought the urge to roll your eyes, "However, you're not that young…" This was a new addition, "When will I be receiving a grandchild?"

Your brows furrowed. Namjoon told you she took the news of no grandchildren quite well. He told you that she was informed of your no children rule mere days after you spoke the words. The radio silence on the topic of children each time you met with either of his parents confirmed much for you, and you had even found yourself quite proud of him for standing his ground with you. Surely, his parents are not nearly old enough to be so forgetful.

This was the first question in a while that made you falter, and you could see the satisfaction she gained from it, "Grandchildren? I'm unsure what you-"

"Namjoon told me the last time I visited him in prison, you wanted to wait for your fifth wedding anniversary before trying for children, isn't that coming up quite soon?" She raised a brow and you felt your heart shatter.

He lied to you. Again. He lied to you mere moments after you were ready to forgive him for lying to you the first time.

You let out a bitter laugh, "He did now?" She nodded and you shut your eyes for a moment, "It seems I've been made a fool of again." You sighed before looking as confusion crossed your mother-in-law's features, "I told Namjoon the very last time I visited him in prison that I did not want kids, ever."

"You know that's not possible for him, he's a successor." She laughed at your boldness.

"You know that he is an adult man with 6 brothers, biological or not, who will all marry one day, surely one of them will adopt or have a child." She scoffed at this, "I got my tubes tied years ago." This wiped the smile off her face.

"Does Namjoon know about this?" She snapped and you nodded with a bitter smile.

"He accompanied me to the appointment for moral support." You shot back.

"Well, your tubes can be untied and-"

"No." You deadpanned.

"No?" She mimicked in disbelief.

"If Namjoon requires a child, he will also require a new wife." Your voice was cold and you watched shock settle into the woman across from you, "With his habit of lying coming to light, he may have to find a new wife regardless."

She stood, "Don't be-"

"Please, do not waste your breath on orders I will not be following." You held your hand up to silence her.

"I'll call Namjoon, he can talk this out with you, so you can see things our way." She tried to sound reassuring as one of your staff rushed to see her out respectfully when you did not budge from your seat.

You stayed seated at the mahogany table, staring at your wedding ring. You didn't want to get a divorce. You loved Namjoon, more than anything, and yet, did he love you more than anything?

----

You're not sure how long you stayed there, questioning everything, but it was enough time for Namjoon to come home. He ripped the door open, eyes searching frantically, ready to make sure you had not already left him before his eyes landed on your figure. From there, he took his seat across from you at the table and waited until he could no longer take the silence.

"Are you going to say anything?" Your husband's voice was calm, although fear was evident in his timbre.

You sucked your teeth and shrugged, continuing to look at your freshly manicured nails, "What's there to say?" Your voice was short, as if you were already tired of the conversation before it could even start, "You lied to me."

Your husband dropped his head into his hands and sighed, "Junebug, I'm sorry, I-"

"You embarrassed me, again." You look at him for the first time all night with a sharp glare, "Are you trying to find an excuse to divorce or do you just not care about me?"

"Neither!" His head shot up and he met your eyes with deep regret when he realized you were looking at him with the anger and hurt he found you with all this years ago, "I love you, more than anything-"

"Obviously not!" You snapped, "Do you have any idea how it feels to explain to your shitty and judgy mother in law that, in spite of what her precious son said, you had no plans to have children, that you got your fucking tubes tied?!" Namjoon sighed, either in shame or pain, "Were you just hoping that would come around? That I'm such a fickle woman that I don't mean what I say?"

His brows furrowed, "No, if I thought that, why did I let you get your tubes tied?!"

"Let me?" Your voice was mockingly soft, "You let me, huh?" You cocked your head slightly and he closed his eyes in frustration, "How fucking charitable of you, my sweet husband, master of the fucking house, to let your dumb little wife make a choice for her body!" You stood, "How considerate of you to play supportive husband only to fold the moment your mother asks you a question-"

"You know what my duty as the only son is!" It was his turn to raise his voice, but he immediately regretted it as he saw your eye twitch.

"And you knew my stance on kids before you got out of prison." You seethed, "You know why I don't want a fucking kid, nor do I plan to fold on my stance, because I'm all I've got left there." Namjoon's mouth parted slightly before he pressed his lips together.

"It's not my fault you don't want a kid because you'd be a bad mother just like your own." The words left his mouth before he could even begin to consider the repercussions. He was about to open his mouth again to back track wildly, but it was far too late as you took a step back, the weight of his words being too much to take from across the table.

He watched hurt consume your irises for only the second time in his life, the first time being mere hours before you left him for years, before you made him promise to never betray you like that again as a condition for you to come back to him. A condition that he evident did not adhere to in your eyes. "Do you want to know what made my mother such a bad mother?" He watched as the embers of rage within your eyes were only stoked by his reflection in your pupils, although he could see a thin layer of moisture begin to build up, pain, "You know, like I would be?" Your words were almost mocking as he stayed eerily still, "An unsupportive, isolating, and shitty sorry excuse for a fucking husband." Your word hit him like a truck.

Unsupportive. Isolating. Sorry excuse for a husband.

You weren't wrong right now. He felt shitty. He knew he should've just stood his ground. His parents didn't matter if it meant losing you, "I didn't mean that, what I said about-"

"You're right." A tear fell and he felt his heart shatter, "So if you want a kid, it'll have to be with someone else."

"I don't want anyone else, I never have!" He made his way to you as you weakly stepped back, "You're all I need." His voice was soft as he went to grab your hand, but you pulled away.

"You said that last time." Your tears were beyond your control as you wiped at them in vain, "You said that mere days before you told your mom that we were going to have kids and you told me your mom took the news well." You sniffled, "You lied to me, I can't believe that you lied to me and let me just walk around like a fool believing you, again!"

He was stunned silent again. You were right. He had lost his back bone under the strict gaze of his parents and folded under pressure. He betrayed you, and all he could do was hope for your forgiveness.

You shook your head as he remained mute, "I need some time." You went to walk past him and to the door but he engulfed you in a hug, "Namjoon!" You struggled weakly to pull him from you but froze when you heard a sniffle.

"Please, don't go." He begged as he held you close, "I can't lose you again, I'm so sorry, please."

You fought sobs from escaping your mouth, "You lied to me, and your mom-"

"I'll kill her if you want me to." He spoke and your blood ran cold at his tone. He was serious, "My mom and my dad, I'll tell them we're not having children and if they can't handle that, they can leave us alone or die."

Your eyes were wide, tears frozen in time. Namjoon loved his parents. He was always a kid intent on surpassing their expectations, and he had made that clear to you when you started dating in highschool. You were his only sign of rebellion. He was intended to marry a woman from an affluent family, but he met you. You had figured that would be where his rebellion ended, but here he was, handing his parent's hearts in your hands and awaiting orders.

"Joonie, y-you can't mean-" You sputtered to reason but he only held you tighter.

"Or even if you just want me to kill them, I will, with my own hands of course, nobody else can know." His remained headstrong in his resolve, stroking your hair, "I don't care what I have to do to keep you with me." He kissed the top of your head, "You are the only person, the only thing on this Earth that matters to me I cannot live without you."

A sick, and extremely twisted part of you wanted to call your mother-in-law and say, "Hah!" You wanted to rub it in her face that her son, in spite of everything, chose you. Her precious boy has been yours for years now. However, your sanity slipped through the cracks as you shook your head again.

"You love your parents." You shook your head as you cried into his chest, "And if you felt that way, why would you lie to me?"

He sniffled, "I was weakened, not 100% sure you would truly accept me with open arms and I panicked when they asked." He sighed, "I know it's pathetic and I know I seemed like I knew we would make it, but I didn't know that. They never brought it up after that so I naively thought they would forget and when they asked me again, I would tell them the truth and-"

"You're so stupid." You cried harder into his chest and felt him nod, "If you're scared to face your parents, tell me, and we'll do it together." You were surely ruining his dress shirt, but he stroked your hair soothingly, "Your mom has been calling me a shitty wife for years and after today, she must truly believe it, and I-I should take some time-" Namjoon held you, arms sliding down your body as he got down to his needs and you felt your heart drop, and you gasped, "Stop, don't-"

You tried to help him up but he grabbed your wrists as he looked up at you with tear stained cheeks and eyes as wet as yours, shaking his head at your frantic protests as he kissed your hands and your wedding ring tenderly, "I can't lose you again." His voice was weighty with sorrow at the thought of you being away from him, "You matter more to me than my duty as a successor does, than my parents do, even more than this whole fucking business." He rubbed his cheek against your hand in desperation as you stood frozen from the shock of Namjoon begging on his knees with the utmost humility. The most powerful man in the city, undoubtedly the country as well, was on his knees crying and begging you to stay, "If killing my parents is what I have to do to prove it, I will. Name how you want it done, when you want it done, and I'll do it." He was dead serious and he could tell you knew it as tears spilled onto your cheeks even more, "You're a better wife than I deserve, and all I can ever hope is to be even a fraction of the husband you deserve, and I'm sorry I've been missing the mark." This made your face twist in pain, regret. Namjoon, up until today, had been nothing short of perfect, and even now he was making up for it, "Almost losing you nearly killed me, and-and I get that sometimes people need time to calm down but I would just prefer you beat the shit out of me instead-"

"I didn't mean that either!" You cried out as you sunk down to your knees to hug the sobbing man before you, "You aren't a sorry excuse for a husband, you're just a goddamn idiot, and I didn't want time I just didn'twant to see your stupid face because I was so angry." You laughed as he did for a moment, "Above all else, you're an amazing husband. I love you, always have, I just hate when you lie-" Your voice in his ear was like heaven as he felt a weight lift of his shoulders.

He grabbed your legs to wrap around his waist before you could properly settle onto your knees. He held you close and he soothed your cries, "I haven't lied to you since, I can promise you that." He sighed and you scoffed, "You don't have to believe me. I'm just asking you to stay with me so I can prove it over time."

"I'm...I'm not leaving you." You sighed into his neck before he pulled you back to trap your lips between his as he kissed your with a vigorous passion. When you returned his kiss with an equal amount of desperation, he began to stand with you in his arms before promptly laying you on the couch, never detaching his mouth from yours the whole time.

You settled into the velvet cushions as he ground himself into your sex, making you gasp, "I love you, my darling." He murmured into your mouth while one of his hands slid your dress up and your panties to the side before brushing his fingers across your pussy and groaning at your wetness, "Oh fuck, you're so wet, baby." His mouth went to your ear as you moaned, threading your fingers into his hair, "Was it me promising to kill for you or me getting onto my knees that did it, hm?" He rubbed slow circles over your clit and you gasped, "You get off on me spilling blood for you? You get wet by me demeaning myself to keep you right here, where you belong?"

"Yes, daddy, I do- fuck!" You clutched his hair harder as his finger slipped in and your hips wiggled impatienly, "Just fuck me, I don't care about being stretched, fuck me."

Too desperate to even hesitate, Namjoon undid his belt, ripping it from his trousers as he secured your wrists within the leather garment, as he had done many times before. He undid your belt as he pushed your arms up and his pants down with his boxers. He slid into you with a deep groan that you matched with a wanton moan. He fucked himself into you feverishly, wasting no time in chasing your high as his nimble finger went down to stimulate your clit, "I love you so fucking much, y/n." He groaned as he felt you tighten, "I don't care who I have to kill to prove it, I'll even let you watch the light drain from their fucking eyes if it means you'll stay with me."

You moaned out as he whispered gruesome threats to the outside world intermingling with sweet nothings as he held the belt around your wrists,using it as leverage to fuck you harder. If you were sane, you would not be getting closer and closer to orgasm as he cursed the rest of the world into painful deaths just to have you as his wife, but here you were, clenching around him and opening your legs further so he can go deeper, "Shit, I'm gonna cum!" You cried out, arms going over Namjoon's head so you could pull him down to you by the neck and kiss his lips messily.

His hand went from your clit as he wrapped his arm around you to hoist you up and slam himself into you further, "That's right baby, cum for daddy and I'll give you my cum." He cooed in spite of the strain to keep himself from busting you before you get your release. His words only threw you over the edge as you climaxed, hurdling him into his own. He fucked his cum into you like always and you moaned lightly until he was done.

He held himself inside of you as you both gained your breath again, exchanging occasional kisses, "You don't have to kill them, you know." You spoke finally "Although, I won't be so cordial with their bullshit anymore."

He nodded, "I'm by your side, Junebug, forever and always." You smiled before kissing him.

"And I, you." You hummed blissfully.

"We have everything we need between just the two of us, I promise." He smiled against your kiss while you nodded, "You'll be the only one calling me daddy for the rest of out lives- hey!" You smack his chest lightly as you both laughed blissfully, letting the seriously twisted shit that just transpired be a simple part of the past.

"Your mom is a bitch." You giggled tiredly as he chuckled.

"Don't worry about being nice to her if you don't want to, I have my priorities straight." He gave you another kiss that you returned with glee.

As he was cleaning you up, your hazy mind allowed you to feel smug at the fact that you just saved your shitty in-laws from certain death. You were their ticket to life. You were their precious successor's priority. You were his only true love.

Namjoon watched with nothing but love as he tucked your sleeping form into bed. Thinking on it now, he doesn't know if he could even stand the idea of you loving a child as much as you loved him. He enjoyed his monopoly over your affection, and a child would only throw a wrench in that for him. Taehyung liked kids, Jungkook seemed like a family man, maybe even Hoseok if that new girl he's saying is as serious for him as he says. All it took was one kid to carry on the business, so you didn't need to worry your pretty little head about it.

All you had to worry about was staying by his side and all he had to worry about was being a good enough husband to keep you there. He kissed your forehead as he held you closer to him, texting his mom the next time she disrespects you or his marriage, there would be consequences.

You were the only person he needed. He would do anything to make you understand that.

The ticking of the clock was nowhere to be heard as you laid in Namjoon's arms. You snuggled into him as you caught sight of the thinly veiled threat he sent to his own mother on account of your feelings. He was yours just as much yours were his and the victory of it all had never tasted so sweet. His heartbeat was all you could hear, steady, loving, and to the beat of the drum you commanded.

You both wouldn't have it any other way.

Masterlist

If you enjoyed and are able, please support my ko-fi!

#yandere au #yandere bts au #yandere namjoon #yandere bts #spft yandere bts #soft yandere namjoon #bts mafia au #namjoon smut #kim namjoon #namjoon scenario #namjoon imagine #namjoon drabble #bts smut #yandere bts smut #namjoon mafia au

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miscellaneous-bnha · 3 years

Text

A little “Christmas Magic”

Kirishima x Fem!Reader x Denki

This is my piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten’s Citrus Dome “Snowed In” Collab.

Link to the Collab: https://tomurasprincess.tumblr.com/post/637531853698547712/citrus-dome-server-snowed-in-collab

Warning: slightly Scumbag Kiri/Denki, dubious consent (at the start), Possessive/FeralDenki, Smug Kiri, some exhibitionism, lowkey yandere Denki if you squint, dumbification, a little tongue pulling, light cum play

Also, I write Denki as someone who pretends to be stupid but is actually extremely intelligent.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP

Being childhood friends with Denki had it’s perks; knowing how intelligent your best friend is compared to how stupid he likes to act is one of them, so you knew that it was no accident he kept you distracted long enough for the blizzard to roll in.

Effectively trapping you in his home with his roommate Kirishima.

“Aww come on! It’s not that terrible! We’ve got good heating, enough food n’ snacks. The world’s BEST portable charger,” he points to himself dramatically, “And, if you do get bored of me, Kirishima’s here too.”

“You say that like you were planning on excluding me from your plans.” Kirishima looks at his roommate unimpressed. You stifle a giggle.

“Even if he was, I wouldn’t let him.” You nudge the redhead with your shoulder, making him snort a laugh.

“Fair enough.”

“So you agree it’s not that bad?” Denki bats his eyes at you, causing you to push his face away with a scoff.

“Alright alright. It could be worse.” He grins.

“I’m glad you agree!”

The three of you spend the night talking about the latest games the three of you have been following. They had both just convinced you to download a multiplayer rpg when the power suddenly went out, leaving you all in the dark.

“Oof, unlucky. I guess even state of the art homes still get black outs.” You mutter.

“More likely than you think. Here, why not get closer before the temperature starts to drop.” Kiri offers.

“Sure, why not. I’ll be thankful for it later anyhow.” You sandwich yourself between Denki and Kiri laying on your back as the three of you bundled together.

“Everyone’s phones charged up?” Denki peeks at your phone, still going strong at 95%

“Yeah, it should be good for a while longer. Anyone up for some music?”

For the next 3 hours, you continue to talk until you find yourself growing sleepy. Comfortably warm, you can’t help the way your eyes slip close.

————

When you wake up again, you can still hear the wind whipping around outside. You grab your phone only to be met with the no battery signal. Both boys on either side of you completely knocked out.

You tsk at your own stupidity. ‘I should have turned it off when I realized I was getting sleepy.’ You thought to yourself, leaning over Denki to use his phone to check the time.

The numbers 9:27am stared back at you. Just as you move to settle back into your spot, Denki’s arms suddenly wrap around you.

“Mm… five more minutes…” the angle at which he grabbed you made it so you were lying on top of him, your legs straddling his hips.

“Uhm… Denks…” you try to shake him gently.

“Noooo… jus’ five mmm….” he starts to snore softly again, and you’re left stuck on him.

You sigh, accepting your fate. With your phone dead, you decide whether or not you should stick the charger into his mouth and plug your phone in or if you should just go back to sleep. Unfortunately, with how restless you felt, sleeping wasn’t an option, and you’d feel pretty guilty for disturbing him from what must be a good dream.

A really good dream.

Your face erupts into flames when you realize there’s something hard poking at you. The blush darkens when he groans and his hips jerk up to grind against you.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t ever attracted to your childhood friend; blonde hair, golden eyes, killer smile. You saw how popular he was back then, and you can see it in his hero ratings now. Even aside from his looks, his goofy, lovable, secretly intelligent nature made it impossible not to fall for him all those years ago.

But you also knew he tended to be a flirt, which made it hard to tell if he was genuine. Especially since his advances were never directed at you.

Wishful thinking made it easy to believe that he didn’t flirt with you because “he didn’t want to think the one person he cares the most about to think he was playing with them”, but reason told you otherwise.

You’ve met some of his exes, and none of them were like you.

So, in the friendzone you stayed. ‘Better than nothing’, you reason, and— much to your own surprise— you’re satisfied with that.

You shake your head and squirm. “Denki…! Wake up you idiot!” He snorts when you headbutt his chest, head sitting up as he let you go to rub at the spot you hit.

“Awww… I was having a good dream…”

“I’m sure you were!” You spit, embarrassed.

You make an attempt to hide it. “Also, I need a favor, my phone died while we were sleeping.”

“Ah, yeah. I tried turning your music off, but I guess that didn’t work.” You hum, but nod.

“Thanks for trying. Mind charging it for me?”

He taps a finger to his chin, pretending to think about it before he grins. “Sure, but it’ll cost ya.” You snort.

“Ha ha. What do I owe?”

“A kiss.” You roll your eyes. Even as a kid, Denki always liked to say stuff like that.

You lean down and press a kiss to his cheek.

“There, your kiss. Now can you charge my phone?” You have to bite your tongue to hold back a yelp when you’re suddenly flipped over on your back, Denki hovering over you.

“You can do better than that!” He grins when you snort.

“Oh really now?” You plant another, wetter, kiss to his cheek with a smack. “And is that good enough for you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh come on!” You whisper-yell, fake exasperated, “I give! What more could you possibly want??”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes!”

He pauses, eyes watching you for a moment before suddenly his lips are on yours. One hand cupping your jaw, thumb circling the underside of your chin, the other bracing himself over you.

You don’t expect it, nor do you expect the way he deepens the kiss so effortlessly even while you’re still floundering for steady ground. He almost seems to be intent on trying to keep you stumbling.

You gasp and pant when he parts from your lips with a wet smack; head foggy with confusion, you don’t have any time before his lips are back on yours, smothering you into another blissful, naïve cloud.

You whine when the hand cupping your jaw trails down slowly, fingers intertwining with yours and giving a gentle squeeze, bringing it above your head to pin it there.

“W-Wait!” You gasp, trying to come back down to reality, still not believing what’s happening.

“No.” He nips the side of your neck, making you groan softly, “Waited long enough.”

“Wh- what do you mean??” You don’t get your answer. Instead, he presses more hot kisses to your lips, each accompanied with a soft smack.

“Denki—!” You hiss through your teeth when he bites down on your neck again, harder this time. He covers your mouth with one hand, hushing softly.

“Waited too long for this. Should’ve just said something a long time ago.” His breath is hot against your ear, making you squirm when his teeth nibble on the lobe. “Should’ve told you how I feel ages ago.”

You can’t help the excited thumping of your heart, especially if his words mean what you hope they do. You gasp when you feel his hard on grind against you, sound stolen from you when Denki presses another deep kiss to your lips.

“Fuck, need you. Need you so fucking bad.” He borderline growls as his free hand disappears below the blanket covering the both of you. You’re just about to let the haze overcome you when you suddenly hear Kirishima snort from next to you, making your blood freeze.

“Denki..! Kirishima’s right there—!” He groans burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck..! I know! ‘S fine!” He flips you both again so that you’re on top, tugging at the pair of sweatpants you borrowed and your panties.

“We can’t!” He bucks his hips into yours, making you inhale sharply. He tugs you down so your chest is pressed to his. You can feel the way his heart is pounding through your thin shirts.

“For fuck’s sake, please, baby girl. I can’t. I can’t wait anymore.” He groans into your ear, hands pinning your hips to his, moving you to grind against him.

“But Kirishima—!”

“Kirishima—” He growls his roommate’s name with disdain, making you shudder with fear and arousal, “— won’t know if you stay quiet.” He hisses when he finally manages to slide the sweatpants off of you, bare cock nudging against your panty-clad pussy.

“Please. I need you so fucking bad it hurts. I will combust if I can’t fuck you right fucking now.” You shiver when you feel his fingers pull the crotch of your underwear to the side, fingers sliding through your slick and circling your clit.

“Okay, okay okay okay— wait!” You bite your lip when he shoves his leaking cock into you, growling into your shoulder.

“Fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck…” he groaned, hips fucking up into you with soft ‘paps’

“Den—ki!” You whine, grinding down on his cock as much as he would let you.

“That’s it, baby…. jus’ keep sayin’ m’ name.”

“Or maybe mine.”

The shock of hearing Kirishima’s voice right by your ear has you clamping down on Denki’s cock, sending you over the edge when he thrusts roughly into you.

“Kiri—“ Denki slaps a hand over your mouth, cutting you off.

“Seriously?” Denki growls, pissed. He doesn’t pull out though, opting to fuck into you still,

“Aww, come on. I’m not the one breaking promises around here, Denki. Don’t get a little salty because I wanted to join in on the fun.” You shudder and moan, overstimulated.

It’s hard to focus on the conversation as yet another orgasm builds. You can barely focus on the fact that you just got caught fucking your childhood friend by his roommate, at least until two hands grab you by your shoulders and pull you against a firm chest.

“Kirishima! Wh—” You whine when one arm wraps around your neck, not squeezing, but keeping you pinned to his chest, the other pinching and pulling at your nipple,

“Kaminari here can’t keep a promise, so I’m just having some fun touching you.” He laughs, seemingly unbothered. Then he whispers into your ear,

“But don’t worry; I’ll give it to you later.” You squeeze and clench around Denki’s cock at the sound of that.

Kirishima’s hand trails down your body, leading a trail of goosebumps until his fingers pinch and tug at your clit. He activates his quirk, the rough sensation of his hardened fingers add to your pleasure until you’re creaming on Denki’s cock all over again. You whine, trying to pull away from the stimulation, but Kiri just holds you there, letting Denki rut up into you until he’s cumming, hissing through his teeth until he can’t bring himself to pull out anymore.

You’re vaguely aware of the fact that he isn’t wearing a condom, but you don’t dwell on it. You don’t have time to as you feel yourself falling asleep again.

————

When you wake up, you’re cuddled in Kirishima’s arms. He gives you a bright, toothy smile when he notices your eyes opening.

“Well good morning, sleeping beauty! Well, good afternoon now.” You groan, feeling a little sore.

“What time is it?”

“About 2pm. You didn’t actually sleep that long.” You grunt.

“Where’s Denki?”

“Grabbing some snacks together. Your phone finished charging, by the way.

He presses the device into your hands and you stare at it owlishly until your brain catches up with your body.

“Ah, thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

You set it off to the side, sitting up and stretching. Your face twists when you feel something leaking out of you.

“Ugh.. I should go and get cleaned up… well, as much as I can anyway.” You throw the blanket to the side, but you don’t have the opportunity to stand before Kirishima’s hands are on your hips.

“About what I said earlier…” he murmurs softly. It takes you a moment, but you blush when you finally remember.

“Wh-what about it?”

“Do you mind?” He squeezes his hands gently.

You chew your lip. Everything considered, he’d watched and helped Denki fuck you, and you certainly were curious…

“... alright, why not?” Kirishima grins before patting his lap, pushing his shorts and boxers down. Your eyes widen when his cock stands,

“Have you been hard this whole time??” As smug as he’d been acting earlier, he seemed to get a little shy at your question

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“You were!” He sputters, but pulls you into his lap.

“Look, of course I’m going to be hard.” He teases the sharp points of his teeth against your neck,

“Thinking about all those noises you made, the way you looked on his cock…” he growls playfully, biting down on your shoulder until you whine softly.

“Shit... just hurry up then!” You grumble, giving his cock a couple of good strokes.

He flips you around so your back is against his chest again, slowly sinking you down on his cock as you both groan.

“Christ... I see why he wasn’t keen on sharing.” Kiri raises you by the hips, slamming you back down on his cock with a hiss,

“So fucking tight baby girl…” he groans as you whine, falling back against his chest. Your body shakes with his laughter.

“Awww… already stupid from my cock stuffing your tight little hole?” He groans, but you can feel the way he grins against your neck,

“That’s alright, baby. I’ll take care of ya.”

Your whines and moans do eventually attract Denki, pulling him away from his task. He scowls at Kirishima, who only continues to lazily bounce you on his cock.

“You could have at least waited until I came back.”

“And miss a chance at fucking her cute little pussy? I don’t think so.” You whine when Kiri forces your hips to still, instead rotating your hips so his cock grinds deep inside.

You feel Denki grip your jaw with one hand, the fingers on his other hand slipping inside your mouth. You yelp when you feel him pinch your tongue, tugging it out and forcing you to tilt your head up to look at him.

“You’ve always had such a pretty little mouth too…” Denki says more to himself than to you, letting go of your tongue in favor of tugging his cock out of his sweatpants.

“Mind if I use it?”

He taps the tip of it against your tongue, groaning a soft “good girl” when you suck on it, only for you to choke when he pushes more of his length into your mouth.

“Hey, take it easy man.” Kiri starts to bounce you on his cock again, making you moan with each drop of your hips. Denki grunts, cupping your cheeks with his hands,

“She’ll be alright, won’t you baby?” You whine softly, too busy focusing on the rising heat in your core.

“Either way, I don’t think she’s coherent enough to even notice if my balls smack against her chin.” Denki says as he snaps his hips forward again, making you gag.

“Well… don’t make her sick.”

“She’ll be fine.”

You moan and gag with every drop and rise of your hips respectfully. In some ways, Denki was right when he said you’d hardly notice him shoving his cock down your throat; come later, it’ll be sore as hell, but for now, it added to the curling pleasure that only seemed to build the more roughly they treated you.

You feel Kirishima reach forward to pinch a nipple, making you gag out a yelp around Denki’s cock. Both of them hiss in unison.

“Shit, I think she liked that.” Kirishima gives it another painful tug, causing you to whine and your cunny to flutter.

“Fuck.. keep doing that.” Denki groans out, forgetting completely about your comfort for a moment when he shoves his dick all the way down your throat, making you choke when Kirishima buries himself balls deep.

You feel like your head is floating aimlessly by the time they start to lose control. Between Kiri’s thick, heavy cock splitting you open and Denki fucking your face, your eyes roll back as you cum hard, whining and moaning through your choked noises.

“Fuuuuuck, that’s it baby! Just tighten up like that!” Kirishima growls as he abandons your nipple, opting to rub your clit instead to keep you cumming.

Denki hisses and pulls his cock out of your mouth, instead leaving the tip on your tongue as he strokes himself to completion.

Both men are loud when they cum, and you can only whine when you feel your body turn to gelatin again.

You grimace when Denki pushes his cum around on your tongue, only removing his finger when he’s satisfied with the look of it. “Swallow for me, yeah?” He pets your cheek when you comply, smiling in satisfaction.

You can feel Kirishima’s cum leak out of you the second he pulls out. He lets out a low whistle, lightly patting your ass. “What a sight to behold.”

You flop back against Kirishima’s chest, groaning softly. “Now can I get cleaned up?”

“Of course. Just give us a sec, yeah?”

“Or you could just stay like this for-“

“No thank you, Denki.”

“Party pooper.”

#bnha collab #citrus dome collab #snowed in collab #Denki x reader x Kirishima #Denki x reader #Kirishima x reader #read the warnings please!#will add more tags later

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minor-solemnity · 3 years

Text

Invention and Intrigue

This might turn into a multi-part fic? I haven’t decided yet, but let me know if you want to read more of this one though!

He doesn’t look angry, or even particularly concerned is the thing. He looks like he’s considering something. Thoughtful, interested. “That was quite the performance,” He says at last and walks over to you, his shoes tap tap tapping against the stone floor. “I think I’d like an explanation.”

The dungeons are one of those places that you don’t go near unless you can absolutely help it. You’d dropped Potions the moment you’d been allowed, not because you’re not good at them - it had been one of your best subjects in actuality - but because the dungeons aren’t safe. Not for someone like you.

This is why you’re currently cursing every bloodline that makes up your best friend’s family tree as you gingerly descend the stone steps into the depths below. Melanie Lindhurst has a date. A date with a boy who she has been pining after since fourth year. She also has a very expensive rare textbook that she needs to return to Slughorn that night but she can’t because of said date. This is why you’ve been roped into finding Slughorn and returning the book yourself. Which means you have to go into the bowls of the castle and pray you don’t run into any Slytherins whilst you’re there.

Melanie had said you were being dramatic when you’d grouched about it over dinner. She finds your reticence to go near the dungeons very amusing. But then she’s not the one who spent most of fifth year creeping around the castle waiting for a mystery monster or madman to sneak up behind you. She’s not the one who had Victor Lestrange whispering that he wished it had been you when they removed Myrtle’s body from the bathroom. So Melanie doesn’t get to laugh at your objectively sensible reluctance to step foot in the snake pit.

After ten minutes of wandering the corridors, you have to admit that you’re lost. All the tunnels look exactly the same and you don’t know where Slughorn’s office is. Maybe Melanie had a point when she said you have a flair for the dramatic, but honestly, never mind Slytherins, you’re going to die down here because of your terrible sense of direction. You take another turn and hear voices coming from behind a door. Lestrange’s unmistakable cackle carries through the air and the door slams open. You press yourself against the wall and hope that no one spots you. Tom Riddle leads Avery and Lestrange out of the door.

God. The snake pit indeed.

You’re in the middle of breathing a sigh of relief at not being noticed when Riddle stills and turns to you. “Are you lost?” He asks, and the other two boys turn to stare at you too. You school your expression into something polite and unassuming and valiantly try to ignore the nasty smile that’s stretching across Lestrange’s face. Riddle, for his part, looks faintly amused. Like he knows exactly how little you want to be here and finds it all rather funny. Still, you feel yourself stand a little straighter despite yourself. He’s the Head Boy, after all, well known in the castle for his pleasant, quiet demeanour and his strict adherence to the rules. It’s not strange that you want to make a good impression.

“Good evening. I, ahh, I have to return this book to Slughorn. My friend borrowed it and he wanted it back tonight.” You explain, feeling vaguely ridiculous as you raise the book up to show them that you aren’t lying. “I don’t suppose you know where he is?”

Avery rolls his eyes, reaches towards you and takes the book. “I’ll bring it to him. I need to talk to him about my last potions essay, anyway.” He says. You notice that he very carefully doesn’t touch you and you bristle at the implication that the thought of touching a muggleborn is beneath him.

“Of course. I’m sure you’re more familiar with this area of the castle than I am.” He leaves soon after. You decide to switch Melanie’s conditioner with hair dye as vengeance for her leaving you. In the snake pit. With Lestrange. The two remaining Slytherins watch you - Lestrange with haughty contempt and Riddle with a kind of detached interest. You rather get the impression that he’s waiting for you to do something idiotic. “I… Well, good night.” You say at last deciding that making a speedy escape is your best plan of action.

You've made it to the end of the tunnel when you hear Riddle say goodbye to Lestrange and his footsteps recede into the distance. You frown and your grip on your wand tightens when you don’t hear Lestrange follow after him. “You're being paranoid,” You mutter to yourself and begin to try and retrace your steps. Five minutes later, you realise that you’re even more lost than you’d been to start with. With a rueful smile, you have to admit it’s hardly surprising. You haven’t stepped foot in the dungeons in two years, and even then it was only ever to the Potions lab. Your knowledge of this part of the castle is severely lacking.

It’s as you’re mulling over your predicament when a flash of purple light illuminates the space around you and a cry escapes you as your shoulder erupts in blistering pain. Lestrange’s laughter echoes down the hallway and before you can think it through, you’re lashing out with your own curse. “Confringo!” A stone bust next to where Lestrange is standing explodes and he yells in surprise as a chunk of marble very nearly knocks him over. He raises his wand but you’re quicker: “Crudesiko.”

The effect of the spell is immediate. Lestrange staggers back, his eyes wide and fearful. You smirk. Serves him fucking right. His already pale complexion is turning practically ghostly and when he opens his mouth, blood burbles up the back of his throat and spills down his chin. You’re fairly sure that if you left him much longer, he’d die. Which would be bad. Very bad. You don’t want to go to prison for murder. With a flick of your wand the curse lifts and Lestrange stops coughing up blood. You stalk over to him, anger and adrenaline making you reckless, “If you ever try to touch me again, I swear I will do so much worse. Do you understand, Lestrange?” You hiss, your wand digging into the hollow of his throat. He nods, still pale, still shaken, still scared. “Don’t tell anyone about this - stupid little muggleborn like me? Compared to your fucking pedigree? No one would believe you.”

Over his shoulder, something shifts in the shadows. You take a step back from Lestrange and let out a shaky breath. He gathers himself, schools his expression into one of disdain and quickly retreats back to the safety of the Slytherin common room. Now that you’re alone, the weight of what you’ve done hits you. You’d hurt him… Hell, you could’ve killed him. You sink slowly to the floor and stare blankly in front of you, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to think about the gravity of your actions. Adrenaline bleeds out of you and you have to choke back a sob. Regardless of what you’d said to Lestrange, you know that if he so much as breathes a word of what transpired you’d be facing expulsion. Probably worse.

“Scourgify,” A smooth, calm voice interrupts your panicking and you snap your head around to stare up at Tom Riddle who is currently cleaning up the trail of blood Lestrange left in his escape. He tucks his wand away and turns to meet your gaze, one brow arched. He doesn’t look angry, or even particularly concerned is the thing. He looks like he’s considering something. Thoughtful, interested. “That was quite the performance,” He says at last and walks over to you, his shoes tap tap tapping against the stone floor. “I think I’d like an explanation.”

You don’t get up from the floor. Resignation sits uncomfortably on your shoulders, the weight of your disappearing future hanging heavily over your head. Head Boy Tom Riddle is your judge, jury, and executioner. “Do you really need one? You saw what I did.” You mutter, unable to look at him as something like shame curls up your spine.

He sighs and then, as though he’s explaining something very simple to a small child, he says, “I didn’t say I needed an explanation. I said I wanted one.” You chance a glance at him then and find yourself fixed under the weight of his scrutiny. When you still don’t say anything, he sighs again and this time you can detect a hint of impatience. “Or perhaps you’d prefer to explain this to the Head Master?”

“No!” You yelp, unable to stop the hint of hysteria from creeping into your voice. He hums approvingly and you’re not sure why, but you start to believe that maybe you’re not going to get into trouble. “I just… Lestrange started it.” You gesture to your shoulder which is still aching, the fabric of your shirt is slashed open where the curse hit you revealing a nasty burn across your shoulder and collarbone. “I’m not helpless. I’m not going to just… not defend myself because he thinks he’s better than me.”

There’s a tense moment where neither of you speaks. Riddle’s gaze is impossibly intense, his eyes flicker from the burn to your face to your wand and you can’t look away. From your position, he towers over you and you think you should be afraid but somehow you can’t will the emotion into existence. After what feels like an age, Riddle takes his wand and murmurs something under his breath. A pleasant coolness wraps around around your shoulder and the pain recedes and the burn mark melts, leaving smooth clear skin in its place.

He offers you a hand. You’re a little surprised by how delicate his hands look. Pristine pale skin stretched over piano players fingers. He’s wearing a gold and onyx ring on his ring finger. It looks antique; strangely it suits him. As though he was born to wear that ring. You take his hand and he pulls you up in one fluid motion, a display of strength that you’re not sure why shocks you. His skin is cool and the way he holds your hand and doesn’t let go even when you’ve found your footing sends fission of something down your spine, pooling in your stomach.

“Allow me to walk you back to your common room,” He says and begins to lead you down the hall. He still hasn’t let go of your hand. “What spell did you use?” He questions after a few moments of silence and you can practically hear the wheels turning in his mind as he considers you as though he’s truly seeing you for the first time. “I didn’t recognise it.”

Despite yourself, pride twists in your chest. “You wouldn’t have,” You say simply. “I invented it.” At this, Riddle’s eyes widen briefly before he dispels the shock from his face and regards your guarded curiosity. At his prompting, you explain what the spell does. “It’s designed to drain the blood from the victim. Ideally, they wouldn’t start coughing up blood, but I’ve never used it before so I guess there’s room for improvement.”

To your surprise, he laughs. It’s not the polite hum of mild amusement you sometimes hear him make in front of professors, it’s surprisingly high pitched, light, melodic. “This is your main concern? That it didn’t work exactly as intended? Not the fact that you almost killed the heir to one of the most respected pureblood families in Britain?” He must sense the sudden flood of panic and worry that washes over you because he glances sideways at you, a small, oddly reassuring smile curling his lips. “Lestrange won’t breathe a word unless I tell him to. And I think this might be a secret best kept between us, don’t you?” He smiles down at you and you could maybe believe that he’s just being immeasurably kind if it weren’t for the dangerous glint in his eyes and the way his hand tightens around yours. It’s a warning, maybe. It feels like a promise.

Riddle walks you the rest of the way to your common in silence and you’re painfully aware of how close he stands when he finally comes to a halt. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the weight of his hand around yours, the light puff of an exhalation against your cheek as he leans down and murmurs in your ear, “I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other from now on.” He raises your hand between the two of you and grazes your knuckles with his thumb. It’s an oddly tender gesture. “Good night.”

You stand there, alone in the corridor, for several minutes after he leaves, wondering just what in the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #minific

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myluciferiscody · 3 years

Text

Class Fight (p.3)

pairing: teen!dandy mott x teen!reader

word count: 3,559

warnings: language, jealous dandy, slightly au!dandy, all characters are 18

part 1 part 2

You led Dandy into your bedroom, gently clicking the door shut as to not alert your mother. She trusted you, but the motherly instincts couldn't be helped when it came to safety with boys. Dandy glanced around your room, having not been up here since you were in elementary school. He noticed you still had the teddy bear he gifted you in fifth grade when you fell and scraped your knee so severely it required stitches.

You wasted no time, turning around as he took a seat on your bed, "I need an explanation from you!" you said, giving him a glare as he smirked at you. "Dandy, why are you causing fights with my friends?"

"You two really are friends, then?" he asked, very pleased with your answer. "I don't see us coming to an agreement with what I have to say."

You crossed your arms, your glare worsening as Dandy just smirked at you. You tried not to be distracted by the fact he was starting to grow into his looks, and you were beginning to notice. "That's not fair."

"Of course it isn't, but neither is life, y/n." he shrugged. "I don't regret what I did. I never liked Jason, we're rivals by default."

You frowned, "What are you talking about?"

Dandy stared at you, wiping his hands on his clean pants. "You don't remember the story? The Deans and the Motts were business partners before we were born. Jason's father stole ideas and were selling them someplace else. Ended up losing the lawsuit after my father found out. Not long after, your grandfather helped grow our business, and eventually yours."

Of course, how could you forget such an essential detail in your family history? It was only ingrained in you since birth. Despite the temporary setback, the Deans found their fortune in cars. Frozen foods weren't their strong suit, it seemed.

"Jason isn't his father," you defended him, coming to take a seat next to Dandy. "That's not fair to him."

"And I'm not my father," Dandy countered. "I go way back with Jason, y/n. Neither of us ever liked each other, and not for reasons due to our parents. He's a stuck up, spoiled brat."

You thought it was funny that Dandy, of all people, could call another person a spoiled brat. You knew he changed plenty since you were kids, but he was always the one kid in the entire grade who had a tantrum once a day in each class.

"It's not fair to me!" you said, springing back up. "I don't pretend to like everybody, Dandy. However, I don't want my relationships to suffer because two of my friends hate each other. If Jason had ulterior motives I have yet to see them!"

Dandy laughed loudly, and you found yourself with the same unamused expression as before. He didn't falter at your glare, instead grinning widely and standing up, easily towering over you.

"y/n, I don't talk to a lot of people. You know that." he approached you, and you stood your ground, feeling your legs become jelly at his close proximity. "And because of it I hear everything that is said in that school. If I wasn't concerned about you, I would have punched the shit out of him just for the shoes he was wearing yesterday."

"What about what I want?" you questioned, causing him to arch an eyebrow. "I never said I was interested in him. If he thinks something is going to come out of this, he's wrong."

Dandy nodded, smiling at you. You felt chills run down your spine as his eyes twinkled with curiosity. "I like your attitude. You always knew how to take care of yourself."

You nodded slowly, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth. "I guess you taught me a thing or two growing up."

The silence between you was deafening. You noticed Dandy's jawline was more pronounced than you remembered. Dandy realized your lips were fuller than before.

"y/n, I want you to promise me that you'll come to me if you change your mind." he said, and you could hear the genuine concern in his voice. "I don't trust him, but I trust you."

You nodded; however, any thought of Jason was pushed to the back of your mind.

Dandy smirked at you and took a few steps backward. "I'm afraid I have to go."

You blinked, realizing that he had you where he wanted you. You glared at him as he headed to your door before turning to look at you.

"You're still not going?" he asked, a rather smug look upon his face as he wiggled an eyebrow at you.

Before you could answer, Dandy walked out your door. You heard him descend the staircase, with a farewell to your mother, then the front door shut.

You sat on your bed, hand clutched to your chest as you silently begged for your heart to stop beating so fast. Your mother had appeared in your doorway after a few minutes, and she was grinning ear to ear.

"y/n, you still have time to make the dance." she gave you a knowing look before leaving.

You stared at yourself in the mirror across the room. You did have a few dresses with the tags still on them that would pass nicely as a formal gown.

"He wants me to go," you muttered to yourself. Dandy had been dressed nicely, but he always was. He was also soaking wet.

"But Jason might be upset.. But I'm mad at him too," you groaned, plopping down on your back. "What do I do?"

"You get the hell up and stop moping around!" you screamed, kicking your legs as Winter posed in the doorway, grinning at your reaction.

"Why are you here!?" you stood up, still panting from the scare.

"I started feeling better yesterday. Oh yeah, your mother called me and said you were having a crisis. So here I be!" she walked in the rest of the way, pulling a suitcase behind her.

"What is that?" you asked, your voice stern as she knelt on the floor, unzipping the bag. It was filled with makeup, professional kits like you were about to appear on television.

"Your plans canceled, so you're coming with me. I never got a date and with Zoe having a date, I'm not being the third wheel."

You watched her set up and realized this is why you were friends. Partying was okay on some occasions. You rarely went to school dances, to begin with. This was your Senior year. How often in the future would you get the chance to just let loose for a night?

"Okay." you shrugged, and Winter gave you a knowing smirk.

You were excited until you arrived at the school in Winter's car.

The rain had since stopped, and she dragged you to the entrance of the school as couple upon couple poured into the double doors. You were nervous now, knowing that both Dandy and Jason were probably already inside. You weren't supposed to come tonight.

"y/n! It's fine, babe," Winter said, holding your hand as you finally kept pace with her brisk walking. "We'll have a good time."

"It's not really us I'm worried about," you replied, and Winter had a look on her face that told you she already knew what happened. Your mother.

"If it helps Jason is supposed to have a date tonight. Which means he's not your problem right now."

"It's so embarrassing.. Everyone knows about the fight, and people won't stop staring!" you said, glaring at a group of Junior girls who were watching you from a corner. They quickly diverted their eyes, and Winter scoffed as she pulled you into the gymnasium.

It was decorated nicely, a live band already taking stage as kids piled in and found empty seats, many running over to the food to get first dibs. Kyle and Zoe have yet to arrive.

You found a table, sitting down and taking a quick glance around. Your heart stopped when you saw Jason arrive with his arm looped with Madison Montgomery, the most popular girl in your grade.. and the entire school. They fit together almost too well.

"You weren't kidding," you commented to Winter, who shrugged.

"I know my gossip, y/n," she said.

It wasn't long before Kyle and Zoe joined you. Zoe was ecstatic at the sight of you, pulling you into a hug and whispering that she was happy you decided to come. It made you feel good.

You had sat back down, pulling a ballot from the small pile on the table. You completely forgot about Homecoming King and Queen nominations.

Boys:

Jason Dean

Kyle Spencer

Matthew Nylund

Dandy Mott

You paused, glancing across the room to see Jason staring directly at you. You immediately looked away, reading the girls' list.

Girls:

Madison Montgomery

Zoe Benson

Natascha Langdon

Violet Harmon

You pushed the ballot aside, already knowing who you were voting for. You were relieved your name wasn't on the list. It was funny; Dandy and Jason always seemed to be selected for nomination. As far as you knew, Jason won once.

Winter nudged your arm, and you looked at her with an arched brow. She nodded towards the dance floor where Zoe and Kyle were dancing and asked if you wanted to join her.

"In a bit," you replied. Winter smiled, nodding in understanding before standing up and pushing her chair in.

You avoided making eye contact with Jason, who was also dancing with Madison. Everyone already seemed to be having a good time. You were just observing, debating on if you truly wanted to be here or not. It seemed like a good idea at first, but now you remembered why you always felt so out of place.

You jumped when someone pulled out Winter's chair, and you breathed a sigh when Dandy sat down, already smirking as you glared at him.

"You did decide to show up," he commented, a rather accomplished look on his face.

"I wouldn't look too excited. Winter came over and convinced me to go." you said, only lying a tiny bit. Dandy picked up your forgotten ballot, his eyes reading over the names before setting it down. His eyes were sparkling, but you were positive it wasn't from seeing his own name.

"Who are you voting for?" he asked casually, also looking around the packed gymnasium, also looking very out of place. There was just something about the Mott family genes that stood out from everyone else.

"I think Zoe and Kyle deserve to win together," you shrugged, and you saw Dandy's lips twitching. "You voting for yourself?"

Dandy shrugged, a smile now touching his lips. "I haven't decided yet. I've never asked to be Homecoming King."

You chuckled, seeing Winter talking to a boy you didn't recognize. Zoe and Kyle were getting something to drink as the band started to play a slow song.

Dandy watched you quietly, his eyes flickering from Jason Dean to your face. He stood up, watching you look at him with interest and almost longing for him not to leave your side.

"Would you dance with me?" Dandy asked, holding his hand out to you.

You didn't hesitate to take it, almost embarrassingly so. Dandy didn't smirk or make a sarcastic comment. Instead, you walked hand-and-hand to the floor, turning to face each other as Dandy placed a hand on your waist. It brought back memories of you being children, both of your mothers having enrolled you in dancing lessons. You were never paired with Dandy, which he would have appreciated a lot more. He was forced to dance with the girls who could never get it right, causing him to throw a fit and claim he was the best dancer in the whole world.

The thought made you smile, shaking your head as Dandy watched you, wondering what was on your mind. You looked as beautiful as he had ever seen you, and you've always been attractive.

You were unaware that the kids were staring at you, some of them whispering the latest gossip, while others were either jealous or unwilling to admit they thought you two looked cute together. Zoe and Winter were giggling, sucking down their fruit punch with Kyle.

Jason had taken a seat next to Matthew while Madison went to the bathroom for a touch-up. Matthew was smirking, eating a plate full of cookies, while Jason did his best not to stare at you.

"I thought she wasn't coming?" Matthew teased him, sticking an entire cookie in his mouth.

"She wasn't," Jason responded sourly, crossing his arms.

"It sounds to me you've been rejected," Matthew grinned.

"y/n wouldn't lie," Jason said defensively, "Her plans were probably just canceled. It's fine, I'm thinking of asking Madison out."

Matthew rolled his eyes, knowing perfectly well he was jealous as fuck.

Dandy enjoyed having you in his arms, and you felt the same. You laid your head on his chest, and you completely forgot all the dancing couples and people around you. There was a safety that came with being around him that you couldn't exactly pinpoint why that was.

The song had ended, and you unwillingly pulled away from Dandy's warming embrace. The band immediately jumped into a fast-paced song. He wasn't pleased about this, but he was quick to pull you out of the way when a mob of screaming girls nearly stormed the stage.

"Y/N!" You gasped when Winter ran and gave you a hug, giggling wildly in your ear. "Watch out, someone spiked the punch- BYE!"

You stumbled over your feet as the boy with a rather interesting mustache whisked her away, both giggling hysterically as Dandy helped you keep your balance.

"Your friend is interesting." Dandy commented, a slight smile on his lips. He'd tolerate anyone you truly cared about.

"Yes she is," you sighed, finding yourself intertwining your fingers with Dandy. He kept his cool, wanting to give Jason Dean a middle finger to the face.

You had both eaten and got some punch, talking and ultimately enjoying yourself. You were thrilled you decided to come now, feeling like you weren't going to be alone the rest of the night. You danced with Zoe, while Kyle sat awkwardly at the table with Dandy for a break. Zoe whispered in your ear that Winter will be gone for the rest of the night before you both giggled.

In the middle of Jailhouse Rock, Principal Harmon grabbed the microphone, causing the boy band to lose their rhythm and many kids to boo.

"Alright, alright, its time to collect the ballots for King and Queen! Five minutes to get to your tables, complete the ballots, and then the Senior Student Committee will come around to collect them."

You followed Zoe back to the table, taking your seat as Dandy was folding his ballot. He handed you the pencil, and you almost hesitated as you filled it out. A part of you did want to vote for Dandy, but who would you pair him with? Madison Montgomery has tried digging her nails into him many times. Zoe would be a good fit, but she deserved to win with Kyle. Natascha openly despised him, and Violet probably hated that she was even nominated. Her disposition wasn't exactly sunny.

You ended up voting for Zoe and Kyle like you originally intended. Dandy peeked over your shoulder and seemed pleased with your nomination.

The ballots were quickly collected, and it took another fifteen minutes to accurately count them. The band hadn't returned to the stage. There was a lot of chattering about who voted for who.

You hadn't been paying attention to the table directly behind you. The girls who had been staring at you when you had arrived had been talking about you and Dandy. Dandy was listening, his hands clenching at the awful things they were saying about you. He was doing his best to not cause a scene on your behalf. It was bad enough he and Jason both had bruising that was a constant reminder to the students what already happened.

All the nominees had to go stand on the stage. Zoe looked uncomfortable, but you gave her a reassuring smile, which seemed to ease her mind. Winter sat next to you, and you gave her a questioning look. She only grinned and waved you off. Dandy stood next to Jason, both boys beat up but as handsome as ever.

Principal Harmon announced Madison as the Queen. She gushed while he placed the crown on her head, and the elderly receptionist placed a bouquet of roses in her arms. She beamed at the crowd, waving as if she were pure royalty. You and Winter clapped unenthusiastically, but you knew deep down Zoe wouldn't take it too hard.

"And for the King," Mr. Harmon said, opening the envelope. The silence was awkward, and you could feel the tension in the air. "Oh no-"

Mr. Harmon glanced around, his eyes settling on the student committee kids who only shrugged, nodding their approval.

"Well it seems we have a tie," he continued, scratching his head. "Dandy Mott and Jason Dean."

There was a ripple of laughter and disbelief as students yelled for a recount. Dandy was smirking, but Jason didn't look the least bit amused. Madison was pouting.

".. This has never happened in my twenty years of being principal," he said awkwardly into the mic. "Where do we go from here?"

"I back out," Dandy announced proudly.

"Oh! That was easy!" said Mr. Harmon, "In that case, I present to you, King Jason Dean!"

The crowd roared as he placed the crown on Jason's head. He smiled sheepishly, briefly meeting your eyes as Dandy and the others walked off the stage. Zoe and Kyle hugged, both smiling in good humor. Dandy sat beside you as Jason and Madison started their dance to Frankie Valli.

"That was kind of you," you whispered to Dandy.

"It's nothing, I could care less about winning."

Dandy put his arm around the back of your chair until their dance was over. They took a few pictures before the band returned back to the stage, promising a few more slow dances to all the couples before the night was over.

Winter gasped when Jason approached your table; Madison running to her friends and fawning over her flowers and tiara. He ignored Dandy entirely, focusing only on you.

"Could I have a word?" he asked kindly, offering his hand to you.

You nodded, feeling Dandy tense by your side. You placed your hand on his leg under the table in reassurance before taking Jason's hand, following him to the dance floor. You realized at that moment that you knew where your heart belonged.

"I was surprised to see you tonight," Jason said, bringing you in close.

"My plans didn't work out. Winter talked me into coming." you laughed nervously, and he smiled at you.

"I'm happy you came, we don't have many of these left, you know," he chuckled.

"I'm happy I came too," you replied before looking at him. "I'm sorry about everything."

Jason frowned, raising his eyebrows as he spun you around. "Why are you sorry?"

You shrugged, "I've known Dandy my entire life. He's very protective of me and I wish you two never got into that fight." You made your point by glancing around at the few people trying to catch glimpses of you.

"It's not your fault, y/n," Jason said in disapproval, "It was a misunderstanding, Matthew isn't the sharpest tool in the shed and doesn't think things through when he speaks. Mott just heard the worst of his ignorance."

"Well, I think it's safe to say it won't be happening again," you said, watching as Madison came back from the hallway, pouting at the sight of you. "I think Madison really likes you."

Jason glanced back, a smile on his face. "Is it too much to admit now I really like you too?"

You smiled shyly, "That's very sweet of you."

Jason nodded, "I think it's clear who you really like, and he's very lucky," he said, now watching as Dandy stared at the pair of you.

"Yeah.." you agreed, almost liking the jealous looks being thrown your way. "I hope we could still be friends."

Jason was pleased to hear that, and he promised to call you sometime after the song ended. You watched as he walked to Madison, whose eyes lit up at the sight of him. You quickly walked back to your table, pulling up Dandy, who was surprised by your urgency.

"Did he say something?" his nostrils flared, looking as if he was about to murder someone.

"Nope," you said before cupping his cheeks and pulling him down to meet your height. You kissed him deeply, and you heard Winter say, "Holy shit!" while Zoe squealed with her mouth full of cake.

Dandy pulled away, his hands on your waist as he blinked in surprise. You grinned, pulling him towards the doors as the group of girls watched you with their mouths hanging open.

"Sorry for your loss!" you chirped at them, smiling sweetly as Dandy followed you in a daze.

School drama just does not change.

taglist: @daisychainsinknots

#dandy mott imagine #dandy mott x reader #ahs imagine #ahs freak show #american horror story

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dont-be-ugly · 3 years

Text

The Five Times Y/N teased Bucky, and the one time he finally got back at her

Summary: Part two of Angels and Bar Accidents. Y/N and Bucky are forced to stay at the tower alone for a week, while the rest of the Avengers go out on various missions, vacations, and family reunions (for the alive family members, of course).

MONDAY

They didn’t notice the absence of anyone until it was to late. There was a note on the table stating everyone had went out on various things, and the first to be back home would be Tony. They had the whole tower to themselves. Y/N was walking around in one of Bucky’s sweaters, and short shorts, with her hair pulled back, while Bucky was sitting eating with no shirt and jeans.

Y/N was humming ‘Rasputin’ quietly, while searching the cabinets for something. “What are you looking for, doll?” Bucky asked. “My lollipops. I want something sweet, but not to sweet.” She answers, standing on a stool, trying to reach the top shelf. She sighs, her wings fluttering softly. The area was to small for her 10ft wingspan, and she couldn’t quite reach the top shelf with her 5ft 3in self.

“Bucky.... could you help me?” she sighs, yet again. “Sure thing, doll” Bucky laughs. He walks over to where the young girl is, and grabs her lollipops with ease. “You really are a doll. Cute, innocent, sweet, and small.” He teases. “Rude!” She exclaims, handing him a blue raspberry lollipop. “Thanks” he says, unwrapping the wrapper, and setting the it on his tongue.

“No problem!” She smiles, grabbing a watermelon lollipop. She unwraps it and sets it in her mouth. She continues humming, as she walks over, and sits across from where Bucky’s seat was, muttering something about innocence. She absentmindedly scrolled through Twitter. She had her hand on the stick of the lollipop, twirling it around her mouth.

Bucky sat down, watching Y/N silently. He was staring more specifically at the lollipop in her mouth. He knew she was doing it absentmindedly, she needed to keep her hands on something (wink wink) but she was also teasing him. She didn’t notice, of course. But she was. Y/N felt his eyes on her and looked up. “Can I help you?” She giggled, now noticing what she was doing. “In more ways than one.” He replied, seriously.

She smirked, got up, and walked over to Bucky. “Too bad.” She gave him a kiss, him tasting watermelon, her tasting blue raspberry. She pulled away, and skipped off, knowing this would rile him up.

If only he got his hands on her.

TUESDAY

Y/N was usually neutral when it came to heat and being cold. So, when the next day rolled around, she had to switch from sweater, to crop top, just to avoid the scorching heat. She sighed, before getting the best idea. She knew she was absentmindedly teased him yesterday, and played into it, so why not mess with him today?

Y/N knew teasing Bucky was dangerous ground, but adrenaline kept her from stopping. She had only ever teased him once purposely, and that lasted three days. She slipped on her favorite dark red crop top, it was almost see through, lacy, and sleeveless. Perfect combo.

She walked in the kitchen and grabbed a popsicle, opening the wrapper, before heading out to the training room. Bucky was training, as per usual, not paying attention until he heard the close. “Hey doll.” He said, walking over to her. He went to hug her but she slipped past him. “Don’t touch me, you, babe, are very sweaty. Sweat is gross.” She makes a disgusted face. “Fair enough.” He chuckles, and heads back to the punching bag. Y/N watches, licking and sucking on her popsicle.

He doesn’t notice at first, but eventually catches on. “You’re walking in dangerous ground, doll. Stop teasing me.” He says seriously. Y/N just smirks, turns around, and walks off, purposely swaying her hips a little more than usual. She waits just by the door, and laughs when she hears the frustrated noises coming from the room.

If only he got his hands on her.

WEDNESDAY

Today was accidental. Y/N was wearing one of Bucky’s shirts, with no shorts underneath. Bucky had it planned, where she would attempt to get a lollipop, which was in a new cabinet, on the highest shelf, and had to ask him for help.

She fell almost into his trap. Almost. Here she was, standing on the all-to-familiar stool, reaching for her lollipops, the shirt lifting, and leaving almost nothing to his imagination. He silently shifts. She turns around and steps down, now looking at Bucky’s frustrated face. “Like the view?” Y/N laughed.

“You’re teasing me again.” Bucky wines. “Whoops.” And with that, she walked out.

If only he got his hands on her.

THURSDAY

They had gotten an invite from Tony, who was still on vacation, to a gala happening the Monday after he gets back. That meant Y/N had to try on dresses. And had to get someone’s opinion. She had been lucky to slip out of his grasp, but he was getting more and more riled up about it. They both knew that when he fought Y/N, she would never tease him like this again.

“Last dress, I promise!” She pipes, walking in the kitchen. It was a gold dress, that went to her upper thigh, cut out holes on the sides where her hips where, thin straps, and a V neck that left little to anyone’s imagination. He sat, jaw dropped, admiring his girlfriend’s figure.

“I take it you like it, huh, Buckaroo?” She giggles. He clears his throat, standing to approach her, but as soon as he gets 10ft away, she runs.

If only he got his hands on her.

FRIDAY

Y/N had somehow managed to, not only avoid being near Bucky for to long, but convince him to go swimming with her. He was overly frustrated, and her in a swimsuit didn’t help. It was a dark red bikini, laced around the edges, thin straps, and was somewhat see through.

He had managed to keep a straight face for five minutes, before he finally broke. He grabbed Y/N, careful to to hurt her. “I forgot my wallet at the tower. Could you teleport us?” He lied. He felt bad lying to her, but she had been teasing him all day for the past four days, today the fifth. He wouldn’t let her escape this time.

“Yeah, sure.” She teleported them back, and before she could run, he had his hand around her neck, and her pinned against the wall. He squeezed slightly, but not enough to hurt Y/N. “You’ve been teasing me doll. All. Damn. Week. And I’m not going to escape for a fifth time. Now, will you behave? Or will I have to add to your punishment?”

#Bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #angel!reader #winged!reader

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andyet-here-we-are · 3 years

Text

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 4 (aka Nurse Geralt AU)

(Check the pinned post for the first three chapters please~)

"Wow. Either we're going to host a pasta eating contest this evening, or they have spread some news about an incoming pasta shortage in the country," Ciri teases as she looks at the mass of pasta boxes on the counter. "Or in the world," she corrects when she realizes he is still not done taking the pasta boxes out of the grocery bags. "Which one is it?"

"Neither."

"Then why?"

"Can't a guy buy pasta as much as he wants simply because he wanted to? Does there need to be a reason for that?"

"So, you're telling me that I cannot buy as much as candy I want, but you can buy a ridiculous amount of pasta. And you can do that because?"

"Because I'm an adult, and you're not. End of the discussion."

"But that's not fair!" Ciri huffs, folding her arms over her chest. "I can't wait to be an adult so I can get whatever I want and be unstoppable."

Geralt reaches over and ruffles her hair before he asks: "What kind of pasta do you think we should make?"

"Can I ask something, too, before I answer to that?" When Geralt nods, she continues, "You've said that you met someone special, but you didn't let me know anything more than that. Is... Is this special person going to join us for dinner today?"

"Yeah, someone's going to join us for dinner, but it's not someone you don't know. Just Mrs. April."

"Oh. Okay. Nothing came out of it, I guess."

Ciri looks so disappointed that Geralt feels like telling her the truth. But no, he won't ruin the surprise and let it go to waste after keeping his mouth shut this whole time.

She picks up the penne one and shakes the box to make her point.

"With chicken, heavy cream, and—"

"And sundried tomatoes."

Geralt doesn't know why he couldn't think of that. It's both his and Ciri's favorite pasta recipe after all. For a second, he feels extremely stupid for buying every kind of pasta he could find. But then he thinks: "This won't be the last time Jaskier comes here," and finds himself imagining them trying to choose what kind of pasta to make together, and shakes his head a little. No need to feel stupid, he will have to deal with not only one, but two pasta monsters soon if he is lucky.

He smiles at the thought.

***

After setting up the table, Geralt takes a shower and starts to get ready. He nearly asks Ciri which button-up shirt he should wear, but then decides against it since he knows that she would put two and two together and ask something like:

"Since when you use your most expensive perfume at home just because our old, lovely neighbour will come over for dinner?"

Nope, he'll pass, thank you very much. He takes a look at his gray and white windowpane shirt, then at the other shirt he is holding in his hands as if making the hardest decision in his whole life. He doesn't want to look like he is trying too hard, but doesn't want to look like he's not trying at all either. It has been so long since the last time he was on a date that he—

"That's a... date," he whispers to himself because it only occurs to him now.

And suddenly he can understand why Jaskier sounded anxious about meeting Ciri.

This is technically their first date, and Geralt simply invited him over like that's something they have been doing for years. Most people don't even mention their kids on the first date— let alone introducing them.

But it's not the same thing, right? Jaskier already knows about Ciri, and the musician loves kids.

Jaskier didn't back away when Geralt talked to him about his daughter for the first time.

No, he didn't back away and didn't give him this "Oh no, he has a kid, that's such a deal-breaker” look like most people do. What he did was listening to him with interest instead, a warm smile on his face.

Maybe that's why it felt only natural to invite him over for their first date.

Still, even though he knows that everything will go perfectly fine, maybe it wasn't fair to put such pressure on him just yet.

Well, too late for thinking stuff like that now. Geralt doesn't think he will regret this though. He is somehow sure that he won't.

Smiling, he decides that the basic black button-up shirt and beige trousers will do just fine.

A few minutes later he gets a text from Jaskier:

[I'll be there in a few. Don't forget to leave the door open~]

***

Ciri is busy lying on the couch and watching Jaskier's cover again when he finally arrives.

He closes the door behind himself, being careful so as not to make any sound even though he doesn't have to do that since Ciri's watching the video at full volume and wouldn't hear even if he just hit the door shut anyway.

When he sees that Geralt is standing only a few feet away from him in the hallway, his whole face lights up like he has just seen a million fireflies hovering above them.

For a while, they don't even move.

They don't blink or utter anything.

They just simply stare at each other like they cannot believe this is really happening.

Jaskier looks so perfect with his dark jeans and a white button-up shirt with blue small anchors pattern that Geralt swallows—as always, he seems like he doesn't even accept the existence of the first four buttons.

One second later Jaskier mirrors him and swallows, then takes small, silent steps towards him until they're barely one step away from each other.

"It's good to finally see you, Mr. Handsome Nurse," whispers the musician, never taking his eyes off Geralt even for a millisecond.

"You call me 'Mr. Handsome Nurse' so much that I'm this close to thinking that you only talk to me because you have a nurse kink or something," Geralt whispers back, and Jaskier's lips slowly curve into a lopsided, mischievous grin as he slowly tilts his head to the side—the space between them closing.

He isn't sure which one of them is responsible for that, but he nearly feels the man's warm breath against his skin—they are so close that he can see his pupils react, and his heart skips a beat.

"I mean, I don't not have it," Jaskier lifts one shoulder in a half shrug "You're the one to blame. Oh wait, do I hear my own cover?"

Just like that, they are not standing too close to each other anymore, and it's probably for the best, considering they aren't alone and he doesn't want to give his daughter a heart attack.

"The very same. She watches your video again and again. I stopped counting after the fifth time."

"And yet she doesn't even know that she lives with the 'jabroni' she is mad at. Poor thing." The musician clicks his tongue before he grins again. "Or poor you. We shall see. Anyway, my time has come."

After hanging his paper bag on the hall stand, Jaskier silently steps into the living room and makes a beeline for the back of the couch Ciri is lying on.

"Gosh, what a handsome man," he comments as he leans over the back of the couch. "Eh," he says, scrunching his nose, "his nose doesn't look that great in the left bottom box from this angle, but well, what done is done."

Ciri practically jumps out of her skin when she turns her head to the source of the familiar voice. She screams, yeah, actually screams, and falls from the couch to the floor with a loud thump.

"Well, my fans usually prefer to hug me instead, but that's an option as well."

Ciri doesn't look like she is going to say something anytime soon. She just stares at Jaskier with owl-like wide eyes, and Geralt tries his best not to laugh as he leans against the door frame and watches them. The keyword is "tries" though because he is clearly failing.

"...why Jaskier is standing in our living room?" his daughter asks, eyes still on the musician.

"You can thank my hacker friend for that," looking pretty amused, Jaskier answers before he could and holds out a hand to help her to her feet, "he gave me access to all of my fans' addresses so I could surprise them one by one."

"Did I fall asleep? I'm quite sure that I'm dreaming." Ciri blinks twice like trying to come out of a dream, then frowns as she gets up, "Also, that's the worst idea I've ever heard, what if one of your fans turns out to be a psycho and traps you in their house for the rest of your life? Never lets you leave?"

"Well, I wouldn't have any objection to being trapped in here. Feel free to try. Let me know though if you guys are planning to keep me here forever, so I can grab a few essentials from my home."

"You mean your lute?"

Jaskier turns his head to Geralt before sitting on the couch and saying: "She is really a smart one, Geralt. Just like her dad."

"Even smarter than me, believe me."

If someone would tell Geralt that he would have to say "Ciri, please stop poking our guest," to his daughter ever, he wouldn't believe them, but he finds himself warning Ciri with the exact words since she sits next to Jaskier and disbelievingly pokes the man's cheek with her index finger with a determined and curious expression as if she is examining E.T. The musician doesn't seem like he minds it, though.

"You're real. And you're really here," she eventually decides.

"Yeah, as real as that delicious smell coming from the kitchen."

"This doesn't make any sense. I just can't understand why— I mean how is that even— Can someone please explain to me what's really happening here?"

"Why don't we do that while having dinner before it gets cold?" Geralt offers, and Jaskier must be really hungry because he immediately stands up from the couch and pulls Ciri with him before she can resist.

***

"So, basically, my dad was your nurse for nearly a month and I learn about this just now?" Ciri has this 'How could you do this to me?' expression on her face, so Geralt turns to link eyes with Jaskier and mouths the word, 'help' in his direction. Yes, he can deal with even villain-looking, probably dangerous criminal patients without any hesitation, but he can't deal with the way his daughter stares at him right now.

"It's not your dad's fault, Ciri. I told him not to tell you anything about it so we could surprise you."

Geralt loves how he says "we could" like they are a team, to be honest.

Jaskier keeps talking about how Geralt would let her know if it wasn't for him, and Ciri doesn't look that mad anymore until Jaskier adds: "It's not my fault that he is a handsome jabroni who didn't even send me a text and kept me waiting for too long though," while casually stabbing his salad with his fork a few times. "If he didn't call me today, my next cover was going to be 'Call Me Maybe' probably."

Geralt almost chokes on his water. He was so wrong about this whole "team" thing apparently. He knows that some people say "A first date is chaotic by nature", but he wouldn't think it would be this chaotic.

"This salad is pretty good, Geralt." Jaskier completely ignores his reaction, "And the pasta makes me feel like there's a festival in my mouth. It's fantastic. You weren't kidding when you said you could show me how a proper dinner looked like, I see. Kudos to you, gorgeous."

Geralt feels the heat rushing to his whole face, wishing the ground would swallow him up right now and here.

Seriously, someone please bury him.

If someone was told to look mad, surprised, and happy at the same time at an audition they would exactly look like Ciri—or Harrison Ford since he's excellent at that as well—because that's exactly how she looks right now.

"...this song was for my dad? He's the one who kept you waiting? He's the him in 'It Must be Him' ?"

"Uh-huh. That's correct, dear," Jaskier confirms before shoving some pasta into his mouth. "I think he's worth waiting for, though. Still, it was a bit mean of him to do so, don't you think so?"

"Any sane person would agree with you, Jask. Of course, it's mean and inconsiderate."

Jask? Did Ciri just call him Jask?

They are already teaming up against him, oh God.

"Right?! Thank you!" The musician exclaims, flinging his hands in a wild gesture. "I mean, he could just send me a simple text at least, it would take him only a few seconds."

"Don't even mention it. So... Since he finally called you and you're here now, does this mean that you're this special person he—"

"Do you want some more pasta, Jaskier?" Hoping to change the subject, Geralt cuts in, but it's in vain since Jaskier just replies with a quick "Sure, please," and apologizes on behalf of Geralt because he interrupted her, signaling her to continue. The nurse can't help but think that he looks like a fox digging beneath the snow for voles with these curious, hopeful, and focused blue eyes.

"It's okay," thank God his daughter doesn't continue with her question because Geralt really doesn't need to feel more ashamed, "I forgot what I was going to ask anyway."

Ciri gives Geralt her "This isn't over yet," look and asks the man something about one of his original songs instead.

Jaskier looks a bit disappointed at not being able to hear the rest of the question at first, but he answers Ciri's question wholeheartedly all the same.

***

They take their time eating as they have no reason to hurry, talking about whatever Ciri and Jaskier bring up. Geralt is proud of himself that he didn't actually choke in dinner, because with the amount of flirting Jaskier is doing in front of Ciri, he wouldn't be surprised if he did.

Ciri's eyes sparkle whenever Jaskier says something flattering about Geralt and flirts with him, and she looks extremely happy—like she is living in a dream.

As much as Geralt says: "Sit down, you're our guest," Jaskier doesn't listen to him and insists that he helps clear the table after they are done with dinner, because: "We can be done with it faster if I help, I'm a guest with working hands, aren't I?"

So he helps with clearing the table, and also with drying the dishes Geralt washes by hand because they aren't supposed to be washed in the dishwasher. He answers Ciri's questions meanwhile and asks her some questions about her as well— her favorite color, her favorite animals, favorite subject in school. Geralt can feel that he is not asking just for the sake of asking, he asks because he wants to know. Because he actually wonders.

Even though Jaskier is here for the first time, it feels domestic in a way that isn't unwelcome.

When they go back to the living room, Jaskier disappears for a while and returns with that paper bag he had hung on the hall stand.

"Thought I'd surprised my biggest fan not only with my presence but also with a little gift," he explains, handing the big bag to Ciri with a smile. "I hope you like it."

"You shouldn't have," Ciri returns the smile, astonished.

"I wanted to," Jaskier says as he sits on the armrest of the couch, watching her carefully opening the gift. "I think you should just tear off the wrap, dear," he suggests after a while, clearly excited to see her reaction.

"Not gonna lie, I also thought about getting flowers for your dad, but then I thought: 'Nah! Why would I do that after I suffered because of him for fifteen days?' You know?"

Geralt lets out a long sigh, running a hand over his face. Jaskier will never let him live this down, will he? Geralt can picture him going "Remember that time you didn't call me for fifteen days five years ago? When you kept me waiting after I left the hospital? I still think of that time sometimes and it makes my heart bleed," five years later, simply because he refused something Jaskier wanted him to do.

"You did the right thing. He should be grateful that you're even here right now," Ciri agrees. Well, fuck Geralt I guess. It's not like he is Ciri's father who loves her more than anything and who needs her to defend him currently or anything after all.

She immediately goes for a hug as soon as she finally opens the gift, cheerfully declaring how much she likes it and thanking the musician.

"Geralt has mentioned that you love drawing," Jaskier hugs her back gently, happy with her reaction. He had bought her a huge, professional art set. It looks so beautiful that even the nurse feels like taking a shot at drawing again despite knowing too well that he sucks at it.

"I don't get gifts or flowers, okay, no problem, but can't I get a damn hug, too, at least?" Geralt feels like asking, because they look adorable and he wants in, dammit.

As if he is reading his mind, Jaskier motions for him to join them and says: "C'mere you emotional cactus—don't stand up over there like a sad spare tyre."

"I'm not a sad spare tyre," he grumbles a little but joins them in seconds, one arm hugging his daughter, the other hugging the musician.

"Yeah, now you're not," is what Jaskier says as he hugs them tighter.

***

About two hours later Geralt offers to watch a movie together and Ciri is busy setting up a movie—ninety percent "I, Robot" because she is crazy about that movie—before Jaskier can refuse.

Ciri talks about how mad she was when she first watched the movie with Geralt because she thought the movie would be about the short stories in the book, but in reality, the movie had very little to do with the book.

"It's okay though," she adds, "because this movie rocks anyway."

That's how they find themselves watching "I, Robot" with Ciri sitting between them with a big bowl of popcorn in her lap.

"Geralt, can I ask you something?" Jaskier asks before he shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"You look like a squirrel stuffing his little cheeks with walnuts," Geralt can't help but tease, "sure, ask if you don't get choked before you can."

"That's how you enjoy popcorn, you peasant."

"I don't know much about that since I don't like popcorn."

Jaskier gasps at that as if he said: "I bathe in the blood of the innocent every single day to maintain my health."

"How come someone doesn't like popcorn is behind my comprehension," he huffs like he is personally offended by that. Ciri warns them to keep it quiet with a loud "shhh," since she is fully focused on the movie.

"God, it's the same reaction every time I tell someone this," Geralt complains, "it doesn't even taste good, what there's to like?"

"You can always add some salt so it tastes good."

"It makes me feel thirsty then."

"Everyone loves popcorn! Everyone!"

"Well, not my dad," Ciri rolls her eyes as she pauses the movie. "If you weren't here he wouldn't even let me have popcorn even if I begged. 'It's not healthy, Ciri. And it doesn't even taste good. Let me peel some apples for you, instead.' " she imitates him, causing Jaskier to look at him in horror.

"Can you please stop looking at me like I'm a circle freak? I just don't like popcorn. Even that one pizza with peanut butter and gumball Crazy Eyes orders in 'Mr. Deeds' sounds more delicious than popcorn."

"...ew, just ew. I'm concerned for you if you actually think that. How about caramel popcorn?"

"I feel the same about caramel popcorn."

"You're impossible, Geralt. Totally impossible. Well, what can I say? Your loss, our gain. Right, dear?"

"Right!"

"Give me a high-five then!" The musician says with a grin, raising his hand. They share a high-five proudly as if they have just saved the world together from earth-threatening asteroids.

"What were you going to ask?" Geralt asks curiously, but Jaskier just blankly looks at him instead of answering.

"Let me guess. You forgot? See, you wouldn't forget it if it wasn't for all that popcorn questions of yours."

"Don't talk like that in front of our popcorn, Geralt. Ciri, can you please keep playing the movie?"

"Gladly."

***

"I think she fell asleep," Jaskier informs him with a whisper when there are about twenty minutes left of the movie.

Geralt pauses the movie and smiles when he sees that Ciri had fallen asleep on the musician's shoulder—the sight warming up his heart especially when Jaskier looks at her fondly.

"Figured out so. Usually, this is where she announces her dislike for V.I.K.I and rants about Sonny's wink."

"Can't blame her, V.I.K.I is so diabolic."

"We're all on the same page about that," he agrees. "Hey, it doesn't seem like you made her go 'meh' like you were afraid that you would, huh? I told you that she already adores you. I think she likes you even more now."

"Well, I was afraid that I couldn't prove that I was worthy of her gorgeous dad. And I hope her dad shares his daughter's feelings," Jaskier pokes Geralt's arm with his elbow teasingly.

"Oh, please. If anything, it was me who should have been afraid. You two teamed up against me, 'Jask'."

"It's because she's a defender of truth, not because she was playing favorites or anything."

"I better tuck in this defender of truth," Geralt says as he stands up, and if his eyes aren't fooling him, Jaskier watches him affectionately when he picks up Ciri so he can carry her to her room.

He gently carries her to her room and tucks her in. "Sweet dreams, pumpkin," the nurse plants a soft, small kiss on his daughter's head before heading back to the living room, feeling happy that he has seen her smile and laugh a lot today. And truth be told, he feels a bit excited that he can be alone with Jaskier for a while.

"Wanna finish the movie?" he asks after settling on the couch and plays the movie again when Jaskier nods.

"I've forgotten how cool this scene was." Jaskier says when Spooner screams "Save her! Save the girl!" and Sonny listens to him, trusts Spooner to apply the nanites. "Gosh, I've got goosebumps. Seriously. It's not even just a figure of speech."

When Jaskier holds his arm up to show it, Geralt gently strokes the other man's arm by instinct, feeling goosebumps along his skin. As soon as he does that, he feels that he gets goosebumps himself, but it has nothing to do with the movie, and everything to do with the beautiful man sitting next to him right now—even though, yeah, Jaskier is right, this scene is so cool that no one can claim otherwise.

Without Ciri between them, they sit close to each other now, their thighs touching.

Geralt looks at Jaskier's surprised face; his incredibly blue eyes look so luminous in the reflected light from the TV. So luminous, and intriguing.

A moment later, Jaskier makes himself more comfortable on the couch. He then points at Geralt's right arm: "Is it okay if I— you know."

It amazes Geralt how he shamelessly flirts with him in front of his daughter but gets shy over this. He holds back a chuckle, gladly wrapping his arm around Jaskier.

He wonders if Jaskier can hear his heartbeats quickening when the musician leans his head on his chest.

"You make a comfy pillow."

"Thank you, I guess?"

"No, Geralt. Thank you."

And with that, they focus on what's left of the movie. Or more like Jaskier focuses on it while Geralt is busy focusing on him.

He knows that Jaskier is really focused on the movie because he hears him sniffing lightly when Sonny asks "Does this make us friends?" to Spooner five minutes later.

"Are you seriously crying over a robot right now?" he chuckles.

"He has a name, you heartless man," Jaskier argues, getting rid of Geralt's arm and wiping his tears away. "You don't understand," he holds a hand up in defense, "he made a friend. Sonny made a friend, Geralt. For the first time in his life."

"...so?"

"So? What do you mean 'so'? It's an emotional scene." The musician lets out a frustrated sigh, "You're unbelievable."

"I'll let you know that even Ciri doesn't cry at this part."

Instead of making a comment, Jaskier turns to look at the TV again, so Geralt does the same, but he soon finds himself looking at him again because of his lack of comment when the movie is about to end. And that's how he realizes that the other man is busy trying to blink away the tears that have started to well up in his eyes once more.

As he watches Jaskier wrapping his arms around himself as if he's trying to hold himself together, he feels like this isn't really about Sonny anymore—maybe it never was.

"Jaskier..?" he calls his name, but the musician doesn't reply, looking lost in his thoughts. So Geralt puts his hand on Jaskier's shoulder and calls his name again, concerned.

"Are you okay?" he asks when Jaskier finally snaps out of his own head and confusedly looks at him.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just— I don't know what came over me."

Not buying Jaskier's answer, Geralt presses his lips together and just stares at him in a way that screams: "We both know that this is not true and I'm gonna keep staring at you until you tell me what's the matter."

"Seriously, it's nothing important," Jaskier gives a dismissive wave of his hand and tries to smile.

It isn't his usual, warmer than the sun on a summer day type of smile. It isn't his spectacular smile that makes Geralt think of everything beautiful in the world; makes him think of the most beautiful, colorful flowers, makes him think of a sweet wind that gently caresses your face just when you need it, making you feel at peace.

No, it isn't Jaskier's kind of smile that makes Geralt feel like watching the waves while listening to calming melodies, and he hates this heartbreakingly apologetic and tight smile the other man gives him.

"Doesn't seem like it," Geralt says softly as he squeezes his shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring manner, "Why don't you tell me what it is? I've been told I'm a good listener."

"It just—" Jaskier takes a deep breath and keeps his head low as he avoids looking at Geralt, his shoulders slumping as if in defeat. Geralt's mind is already racing with possible things that the musician could say.

"It reminded me of someone I used to know. Of my first real friend," he explains. "She had asked me the exact same question when I saved her ass from his so-called foster parents. 'Does this makes us friends?' I can still remember the look in her eyes when she asked that. I was the first friend she ever had, as well. We didn't get along when we first met, truth be told. But after that, we were simply inseparable.

"We weren't liked by most adults—and also by the other kids actually, because well," Jaskier chuckles dryly, "we were both pretty handful kids. It didn't really matter though, we could handle everything together. At least we felt like we could, and did so for nearly fourteen years, and then turned out we—"

Jaskier swallows the tight lump that has formed in his throat. He can hardly utter the next words, and when he does, his voice is thick with emotion.

"Turned out we can't handle too well with muggers with knives."

Feeling his own eyes brimming with tears, Geralt can't even react at first as he watches Jaskier crying openly.

After a while, "I'm so sorry," is all he can say before he wraps his arms around Jaskier's slightly shaking frame and pulls him into a hug. The other man welcomes the hug and snuggles up to him as Geralt repeats the same words again: "I'm so sorry, Jaskier."

"She was my best friend, Geralt," he whispers brokenly, burying his face in the nurse's chest. "She was like the sister I never had."

Geralt doesn't know how long they stay like this; with Jaskier quietly crying and holds on to him like he is his lifeline and Geralt resting his chin on top of the musician's head, caressing his soft hair with his left hand, and rubbing small, soothing circles on wherever his right hand can reach—on his arm, his back. It can be half an hour, it can be only fifteen minutes. He doesn't really care.

He just wants him to give Geralt his usual, heart-warming Jaskier Smile; wants Jaskier to feel better. Better and not lonely anymore.

He highly doubts that Jaskier has let anyone in after he lost his friend—let them really know him and get close to him. Anyone besides Geralt. And he can't help but wonder if that was why no one visited Jaskier at the hospital; if that was why he most likely didn't even let anyone know about the accident.

" 'm sorry for ruining our first date," Jaskier eventually mumbles. "I shouldn't have brought this up."

Geralt gently grabs Jaskier's chin and lifts it up a little so their eyes meet. Jaskier has a guilty, ashamed expression on his face, his eyes are red from crying.

"You're not ruining anything, you don't need to apologize," Geralt looks into his eyes and assures him, wiping the tears away from the musician's face.

Frowning, the other man mirrors his action and reaches for Geralt's face to wipe the tears away with his thump. "Making you cry is pretty much considered as ruining our date in my book. And to think that I just broke down because of something a bloody robot said—"

" 'A bloody robot'? He has a name, you know. It's Sonny. You heartless, beautiful musician. Shame on you."

Surprised by Geralt's comeback, Jaskier laughs and hides his face in the nurse's chest once again—but in embarrassment this time— as he complains: "Oh lord. You're the worst."

"Well, you probably shouldn't have dedicated that impressive, amazing video to me if I'm that bad. Seemed like you really spent so much time on it."

That makes him look at Geralt and give him a smile. And Geralt finds himself smiling back, too, thinking: "Here it is. His Jaskier Smile."

"I think you meant to say 'bearable musician', before" Jaskier teases. "That's the second time you've mentioned it, you really like it then I guess."

"That was one of the nicest things someone ever has done for me. And the same thing goes for your drawing, speaking of which," Geralt admits as Jaskier pulls himself away from him a bit. He finds himself missing his warmth already. "I didn't think you would do something like singing a song for me though, so imagine my surprise when I got home and saw that video."

"Wait, for real? Don't tell me that I'm the first patient who tried to serenade you. I mean— you're just so..." he vaguely gestures to him, "So you."

"You're not the first patient who tried to flirt with me, but you're the first one who took it that far. And the first one who went full 'here's my number, so call me, definitely,' on me."

"No regrets. Well, actually, I take that back. One regret. I regret that I didn't ask for your number that day. Uh, Geralt?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel terrible about before. I mean it, I shouldn't have brought it up and I'm really—

"If you say 'sorry' again I'll lock you in a room filled with popcorn without any salt and let you rot there."

"That's your idea of torture?"

"That's my idea of hell."

"I must say that your idea of hell is pretty sweet then, if only it—" Jaskier's eyes suddenly widen when Geralt lets out a tired yawn, "Oh shit, what time is it?" he asks, frantically searching for his phone on the couch, then looking at the coffee table to see if it's on there.

"I think you left your phone in the kitchen," the nurse replies, not understanding why he is panicking. “Maybe he was supposed to call someone, but he forgot about it,” his mind suggests, but then Jaskier asks the same question again with a bonus, "When are you gonna go to work tomorrow?" question.

"You're gonna wake up early tomorrow, right? I'm sorry that I kept you this— I mean, please accept my apologies that I kept you up this late. And please don't let me rot in the Popcorn Room just because I said 'sorry'. It's late, isn't it? It's probably already past 1 a.m, and yet here I am. Good God," the musician shakes his head and stands up, clearly frustrated with himself, "how inconsiderate of me."

Finding his reaction to the situation adorable, Geralt chuckles and reaches out to the other man to pull him back on the couch, but Jaskier resists.

"It's okay, calm down. I'm on the night shift tomorrow," Geralt lets him know. "Also, I thought you had no problem with the Popcorn Room since you love popcorn."

"Oh. Glad to hear that you don't need to wake up that early tomorrow then," Jaskier says, looking like he feels suddenly stupid. "Still though, I'm sure you had a tiring day at work today, so I better get going already. And for the record; I don't have any problem with being locked in a room filled with popcorn, I have a problem with not having you there with me. Anyway, thank you for having me today, Geralt. I'm so happy that I could finally see you again and finally met Ciri. She is such a sweetheart."

Geralt pats the empty space next to him, but Jaskier taps his wrist twice like he's wearing a watch, trying to emphasize the time.

"Wow, you're trying to get rid of me already, I see," the nurse jokes, hoping it would make Jaskier convince to sit down again. "I thought it would take three days at least. Is it because I'm not wearing my work clothes? Am I not attractive enough without them?"

Jaskier rolls his eyes at that before saying: "You could wear a rubbish bag and still look attractive, Geralt."

"Then can you please sit down?" Geralt insists, "For a minute at least?"

The other man finally gives in and sits down next to him with a sigh.

"You're aware of the fact that Ciri will tear me to pieces tomorrow because I didn't wake her up when she fell asleep, right?" Geralt wonders, facing Jaskier and propping his elbow on the back of the couch so he can prop his hand against his cheek as he talks. "Besides, yeah, it's late. Why don't you just stay here tonight?"

Jaskier opens his mouth—probably to kindly refuse, but Geralt doesn't let him speak and continues: "If you're thinking about replying with 'I don't want to bother you,' or something like that, you better get ready to say hi to the hell because it's nonsense."

"Hmm." The other man copies his sitting position on the couch, "By 'hell' you mean the Popcorn Room again, of course."

"Damn right."

"Well, I think I'd like to stay away from hell tonight," Jaskier shrugs one shoulder lazily. "Only if you promise to go to sleep soon, though. Otherwise, lead the way to the hell, Mr. Handsome Nurse."

"I think you missed the part where I said I don't have to wake up that early tomorrow," Geralt snorts. "How about we go to the kitchen now so I can make us hot chocolate?"

"No, I heard it loud and clear," Jaskier stares at him with a neutral expression, "but you still need to rest, love."

Geralt hopes Jaskier cannot see he is blushing because of the way the musician chose to finish his sentence.

He is about the resist when Jaskier holds up a finger in warning, "I mean it. I'm outta here if you decide to argue with me on that."

The nurse can't help but sigh in disbelief and disappointment. It makes his heart flutter in his chest though, because he is sure that Jaskier would love to stay up for another hour at least and just keep talking, too, and yet, he puts Geralt first.

As much as he wants to argue, he knows Jaskier is right—he needs to rest, and if he stays up for another hour he won't feel well-rested tomorrow.

"No wonder why Ciri gets annoyed whenever I tell her to go to sleep," he thinks aloud, causing the other man to grin at him.

"So, what do you say? Have you carefully listened and agreed to the terms and conditions? Shake my hand to check the box," Jaskier holds out his hand.

Geralt picks up Jaskier's hand with grace and lightly kisses the back of it without any hesitation. Not expecting this, the musician gapes at him—looking adorable as ever.

"Yes, Jaskier," the nurse smiles, "I have carefully listened and agreed to the terms and conditions."

They finally met! Yasss! A coin for your thoughts? I seriously wonder what you think about this chapter, dear Witchlings.💛 What part did you like the most? Did any part make you laugh or smile? I'd be SO grateful if you let me know 😅

I had so much fun while writing this chapter, by the way—well except for that one particular part. And the thing is even I had no idea. Jaskier just got emotional suddenly and here I was, wondering what the hell was happening. And it didn't feel natural to cut that part out, because it just happened.

And another thing is, I didn't think this chapter would be this long. I was just thinking "They will meet and have dinner together, then Jaskier will leave. That's it."

And I'm not gonna lie, I kinda wrote most of these two chapters in the same week instead of humaning and at one point I seriously started to wonder if Jaskier was planning to leave Geralt's home at all. I was planning to end the chapter when he leaves, so it was like:

-Okay, you met them, you had dinner, time to leave. Ciri, out of nowhere: Time to watch "I, Robot!" Me: No no no, that wasn't my plan, Jaskier is supposed to le— Jaskier, already eating popcorn and watching the movie: I'm going nowhere yet. *** Jaskier: *finally says he better get going* Geralt: Hell no! Me:

Joking aside, it's not up to me what he does and I love my precious, silly Dandelion. He can live there forever for all I care, I'm done with trying 😂

(Oh, if any of you have any ideas, feel free to let me know because I'm not sure what's gonna happen in the next chapter for now ><)

Thank you so much for reading 💛

#the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #geralt #my writing #nurse geralt au #jaskier x geralt

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you-didnt-see-that-cuming · 4 years

Text

Soft Touches | Draco Malfoy x Reader Part One

Summary: When Y/N had first met Harry and Ron on the train, she would have never thought that that interaction would have led to years of adventures and near-death experiences. Throughout their time at Hogwarts, several things had become clear. First, there will be at least one thing that tries to kill you a year. Second, Draco Malfoy was Harry’s archenemy. Third, no matter how hard she tried, Y/N still had just as big a crush on the blond as the first day they met. Harry and Ron would never let her live that one down while Hermione was at least a little understanding. Y/N knew that some of the things that Draco had done were horrible, and she would probably never forgive him for the things he had said to Hermione. And yet, she still liked him.

Warnings: No warnings yet!

Words: 1779

AO3 Link

Masterlist

A/N: Lmao I’m back and I’ve been on draco tiktok

As expected, being a fifth year student was far more stressful than anyone could have imagined. Not only did they have the O.W.L.s to study for, but ever since Umbridge had been brought on as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, you had to practically teach yourself if you wanted a proper defense theory. At this rate, a muggle would probably know more about defense against dark magic. Either you practiced on the weekends, which almost no one aside from Hermione did, or during free periods.

It was only a few weeks from Halloween and autumn was in full swing. The grounds were painted with trees that held an array of yellow, orange, and gold leaves and there was a strong smell of bonfire, hot cider, and butterscotch that wafted across the hills during the day. On late afternoons, when the air was crisp and the sky slightly darker than what it had been during the first month of term, the courtyards and hills near the Black Lake were the perfect places for students to relax.

Y/N was sitting on the sill of one of the arches that opened into the courtyard, writing in a leatherbound journal with her green quill when one of her textbooks slipped out of the opening of her bag and smacked onto the stone floor below. She had barely registered the sound when someone had reached down and picked it up, extending their hand to her. Y/N’s eyes followed the line up the owner of the hand’s toned arm until she had reached their face.

Instead of Draco’s usual sneer, there was no wrinkle between his brow, and his features were soft. Her hand slowly extended to meet his, and their fingers brushed against one another as she grasped the book. His startling blue eyes were veiled with an unreadable expression.

She was still too shocked to say anything, but the corner of her lips turned up slightly in a silent thank you. Draco stared for a few more seconds before his hand fell back down to his side and he turned, striding down the empty corridor. Y/N stared at his retreating figure. He wasn’t wearing his robes, despite the crisp chill that hung in the air, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, displaying his forearms and the distinct veins that ran across his skin.

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

It was nearly nightfall when Hermione had found her, still staring at the end of the corridor, deep in thought.

“Where have you been? It’s time for dinner, Harry and Ron have already started without us.” Hermione questioned softly. Y/N turned her head, looking a little dazed.

“I’ll tell you later tonight, in the dormitories.” Hermione tilted her head and smiled a little.

“Knowing you, you’ve probably been out here for hours. Come on, before Ron eats all the best parts.” She stretched her hand out and pulled Y/N from her seat. Together, they walked arm in arm to the Great Hall, taking in the setting sun through the tall window panes and the lingering chill that had swept over Hogwarts over the past few days.

It was getting colder, and the Winter recess was creeping closer day by day. As the two girls walked to the Great Hall, all they could smell as they walked through the open-air corridors was birch smoke coming from Hagrid’s hut and cold air. Y/N breathed deeply and sighed contentedly. She was convinced that there was absolutely nothing better than autumn at Hogwarts, and not even Professor Umbridge could spoil that.

The second they opened the door to the Great Hall, it was like being hit by a wall of warmth, light, and the wonderful smells of the banquet. Y/N finally snapped out of the haze she had been in all afternoon once she realized how hungry she truly was. Hurriedly, the two of them sat down on the bench across from Ron and Harry, both of whom were animatedly discussing the upcoming quidditch game against Slytherin. They were discussing different strategies to use, especially since the Slytherin team was notorious for cheating.

Y/N had joined the Gryffindor team as a Chaser only a year after Harry had and had experienced her fair share of Slytherin fouls to last a lifetime. Y/N caught sight of some serving platters and began serving herself along with Hermione.

“So what were you doing all day? I haven’t seen you since breakfast this morning.” Y/N asked as she filled the corner of her plate with mashed potatoes.

“Isn’t the answer obvious? She was in the library of course, where else would she be?” Ron interjected as he stole a roll of bread off of Hermione’s plate. Evidently he and Harry were done talking about quidditch, Ron had piled loads of food on his plate and Harry was stuffing chicken into his mouth. The two started to bicker until Ron shoved the entire roll into his mouth.

Y/N was watching amused as Ron tried to speak around the bread roll when a flash of blond hair caught her eye. Just over Ron’s shoulder, Draco was just beginning to sit down next to Pansy Parkinson who was absorbed in a conversation with Blaise Zabini who sat across from her. Draco and Y/N’s eyes met briefly before both of them shifted their gazes. Hermione paused for a moment, looking at Y/N and then to Draco before a subtle look of realization dawned across her face. Suddenly, she switched the conversation to their History of Magic paper that was due by the end of the week.

“What have you two chosen for your topics?” Hermione questioned, making Harry and Ron freeze. They obviously hadn’t chosen a topic yet, let alone begun writing.

“Erm, well… Here’s the thing Hermione-” Ron had begun stammering when Hermione cut him off.

“What is wrong with you? Professor Binns assigned this paper over two weeks ago!”

“I haven’t had time, I’ve had quidditch practice nearly every day and Snape hasn’t exactly eased up on Potions assignments, has he?” Harry defended himself, poking at a carrot on his plate and avoiding Hermione’s gaze.

“Harry, I’ve been at the exact same quidditch practices as you and I’m almost finished with my paper. I’m writing about Grindelwald’s rise to power. You need to find a topic and fast!” Y/N said pointedly. Ron sat up at the mention of Y/N’s topic. “And no, you cannot use that topic, pick something else!” Ron deflated once again.

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

They eventually finished their dinners, filed out of the Great Hall, and began heading towards Gryffindor Tower. Once they had finally entered through the portrait hole, Hermione grabbed Y/N by the crook of her elbow and pulled her up to their shared dormitories. Once she had shut the door behind them, she whirled around to face Y/N and pointed to her bed.

“Sit. We need to talk.” Hermione walked over and sat across from her. “What was that look that you gave Draco at dinner?”

Y/N looked down at her hands, an embarrassed flush across her cheeks. She was fiddling with the hem of her skirt and refused to look Hermione in the eye.

“Well, earlier today I was by myself writing in the courtyard, and I guess I must have knocked over one of my books because the next thing I know, Draco was just standing there, handing it to me. It felt like I was in a dream, he didn’t say anything, but he looked… different. I don’t really know how to describe it. He looked… soft, almost?” Y/N groaned and threw herself backwards onto the pillows, her legs hanging off the side of the bed. Hermione shifted so that she was lying next to Y/N and facing her.

“Okay,” she said carefully, “what does that mean exactly?”

Y/N paused for a moment in thought. What did it mean? Y/N had never thought about Draco in that way before, and the spark she felt when their fingers brushed together couldn’t have just been her imagination.

“I… don’t know. I don’t really know how to explain it. Whenever I start thinking about it, I feel this squeezing in my chest, like I can’t breathe properly.” Y/N closed her eyes and pictured Draco’s face once again. Hermione also seemed to be lost in thought, but those thoughts were most likely not about how handsome Draco looked with his hair pushed back and his sleeves rolled up. Hermione stretched her hand out and grasped Y/N’s hand.

“Well, I suppose it could be worse. It could have been Goyle handing your book back to you.” The two girls looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Goyle wouldn’t touch a book, let alone read one. In fact, it was unclear of whether or not he could actually read.

Once their laughter had died down and the two were sitting in comfortable silence, a thought dawned upon Y/N.

“You won’t tell Harry or Ron about this, will you? Knowing them, they’ll make a fuss about it and then never let me live it down.”

Hermione smiled in response.

“‘A fuss’ is a bit of an understatement. ‘What do you mean you fancy Malfoy?! He’s a git!’” Hermione’s impersonation was spot on and the two girls laughed once again.

The two girls then spent the next few hours talking about their classes, Y/N and Harry’s upcoming quidditch match, and making plans for their weekend in Hogsmeade. Y/N wouldn’t have to worry about Draco until the quidditch match, and that wasn’t for another 3 days. So for 3 days, Y/N would avoid him and distract herself with studying for midterm exams and Quidditch practice.

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kjack89 · 3 years

Note

Ooh, prompt for "I never stood a chance, did I?"

ExR (ish), Grantaire x folks who are, unfortunately to him most of all, not Enjolras, modern AU. Not sure any of them ever stood a chance.

To say that a hush fell over the assembled crowd in the back room of the Musain when Grantaire walked in holding the hand of an unknown guy was probably an exaggeration, but not by much. All eyes were seemingly on both of them as they made their way to a table, and only picked up again when both sat.

Courfeyrac, always one for the latest in gossip, quickly headed over to where Joly and Bossuet were sitting. “Who’s the new guy?” he asked, sitting down next to Joly.

Bossuet shrugged. “Dunno,” he said unconcernedly. “Grantaire hasn’t deigned to introduce us yet. Probably afraid we’ll scare him away.” He sniffed, clearly insulted. “As if he isn’t capable of that on his own.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” Courfeyrac said, glancing over at Grantaire and his new beau with a look of mild curiosity. “So how long do you think this one will last?”

Joly just snorted, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “Five dates,” he said, a mix of grim and resigned. “It’s always five dates.”

“You never know,” Bossuet said bracingly, ever the optimist. “Maybe this one will be different.”

Joly gave him a look. “Five dates,” he repeated flatly.

“What’re we betting on?” Bahorel asked, leaning back in his chair and interjecting himself smoothly into the conversation.

“We’re not betting on anything—“ Joly started, but Bossuet cut him off.

“Over/under on how long Grantaire and his new lover will last,” he said, nodding in Grantaire’s direction. “Line is 5 dates.”

Bahorel gave Grantaire and his new man a quick once over. “I’ll take the under.”

Joly scowled. “We’re not betting.”

“I’ll take those odds,” Feuilly said, not even bothering to pretend he hadn’t been eavesdropping, offering his hand for Bahorel to shake.

“Same,” Bossuet said with a firm nod.

He looked pointedly at Joly, who rolled his eyes. “I’m sticking with five. It’s always five.”

“Fine,” Bossuet said, sticking his tongue out at him. “But when I win, I’m saying ‘I told you so’.”

Joly didn’t look worried. “And when I win,” he said, “I look forward to taking your money.” He took a sip of his beer before adding, “Easiest twenty bucks I ever made.”

----------

Exactly four Les Amis meetings later, Grantaire turned up dateless. “Don’t tell me you broke up with him,” Bossuet said, a little desperately.

Grantaire shrugged. “It just...didn’t work out.”

Joly met Bossuet’s eyes, something like satisfaction in his expression. “Oh no,” he said. “That’s too bad. We really liked him.”

He didn’t sound remotely convincing, but Grantaire didn’t seem to notice, just shrugging and watching Enjolras stand up at the front of the room. “I’m sure you’ll survive,” he said, a little vaguely.

Bossuet leaned over, surreptitiously sliding a twenty dollar bill to Joly. “I know, I know,” he muttered. “You told me so.”

Joly just shook his head, pocketing the money. “It’s always five dates,” he said with a sigh.

----------

The five date rule – as Joly called it, though Grantaire stubbornly insisted it was more of a five date guideline than anything – started because of Enjolras.

Grantaire had been casually seeing a perfectly lovely woman who had seemed, at least that far, willing to overlook his many glaring flaws, and brought her to a Les Amis meeting for their third date. And then their fourth.

And it was on their fifth date that Enjolras, who had never quite grasped the concepts of ‘casual’ or ‘subtle’, had remarked, a little sourly, “I’ll take it she’s going to become a regular attendee, then?”

Needless to say, she never came back after that.

Joly postulated that the cycle went something like this: Grantaire met someone and managed to convince them to agree to a date. On said date, Grantaire was his most charming, and funny, and it was enough to secure a second date, and then a third, which was usually when he brought them to a Les Amis meeting. The third date, of course, by the unwritten rules of the universe, was also the date where sex happens. After having sex, Grantaire panicked because this person wasn’t the person he would actually like to be having sex with, and desperately initiated another date in hopes that he’ll convince himself to have feeling for this person instead, and thus there was a fourth date. The fifth date was one final attempt to convince himself that this could work, and they parted ways after that.

Grantaire, on the other hand, maintained that said cycle took far too much forethought, and he had never once been accused of thinking that far ahead. Instead, he told anyone who asked that he just got bored after five dates, and when he found someone who captured his interest, it would last far longer.

But it was, of all people, Combeferre who nailed it most succinctly.

“It’s because of Enjolras,” Combeferre told Bossuet late one evening when Grantaire and Joly had gone to get refills after discussing Grantaire’s latest disastrous dating attempt.

“What do you mean?” Bossuet asked, curious, and not just because Combeferre normally considered himself above the whole nonsense of Enjolras, Grantaire, and the never ending dance they both pretended not to notice they were doing.

“It takes five dates for Enjolras to notice that Grantaire’s been dating someone,” Combeferre said simply. “And once Enjolras notices, Grantaire has no need to keep the charade going.”

Bossuet considered it for a moment. “Do you think he knows?”

Combeferre arched an eyebrow. “Enjolras, or Grantaire?” Bossuet shrugged and Combeferre sighed. “Grantaire might, though he would undoubtedly deny it.”

“And Enjolras?” Combeferre gave him a look and Bossuet chuckled lightly. “Fair enough.” He lifted his beer to take a sip before remembering it was empty and setting it back down again. “So who’s going to tell one or both of them?”

“Not it,” Combeferre said instantly, and Bossuet smirked.

“Looks like it’s gonna be Joly’s job.”

Combeferre shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “But you’re the one who has to tell Joly.”

Bossuet’s smile disappeared. “Goddamnit.”

----------

But then there was a woman who made it to six dates.

And then seven.

And even Joly had to admit that maybe he was wrong about the five date rule.

Combeferre wasn’t so quick to give up, just watching Grantaire with narrowed eyes as he held this woman’s hand. “What do you think of her?” he asked Enjolras in an undertone.

Enjolras blinked as he looked up from the journal article he had been reading. “Who?” he asked.

“Grantaire’s girlfriend,” Combeferre said, looking pointedly in Grantaire’s direction.

Enjolras’s expression froze. “Oh, uh, Fiona?” he said, a little too vague to be accidental.

“Floréal,” Combeferre corrected. “Though I’m pretty sure that’s a nickname.”

Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “Not a great nickname.”

Combeferre scowled. “And not exactly my point.”

“Then what was your point?” Enjolras asked, matching his tone.

“It’s about the fact that Grantaire seems like he might actually be getting serious about someone.”

“And?”

Combeferre arched an eyebrow. “And I can’t imagine you’re thrilled about that.”

For one long moment, Combeferre was certain that Enjolras was going to deny it, or feign ignorance, or shrug it off in one of a million ways he had in the past. But then he sighed and set his pen down. “He deserves to be happy,” he said quietly.

Combeferre just looked at him evenly. “So do you.”

Enjolras managed a smile and held up the journal article. “I have a protest to plan. You could say that I’ve never been happier.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s unusually abrupt, especially for you.” Combeferre didn’t so much as twitch and Enjolras sighed. “Fine, but I’m not the one who likes to brag about the size of my vocabulary.” He paused, looking over at Grantaire, his expression darkening slightly. “But I am. Happy, I mean. I love my work, and Grantaire…”

He trailed off and Combeferre shook his head. “If you think Grantaire loves this woman—”

“I don’t,” Enjolras said quickly – a little too quickly, and he looked away, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. “But maybe he should.”

It was Combeferre’s turn to debate between honesty and denial., but in the end, he just shook his head, his expression unreadable. “If that’s really what you think,” he said coolly.

Enjolras shook his head as well and went back to reading through the journal article. Or pretending to, at the very least, though he couldn’t help but look up at Grantaire several times.

And needless to say, neither he nor Combeferre were particularly surprised when, a half hour later, just when it looked like Grantaire and Floréal were getting ready to leave, Enjolras glanced up at him. “Are you leaving?” he asked.

“That was the plan,” Grantaire said, cocking his head slightly as he looked at Enjolras. “Why, what’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” Enjolras said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “I was just, um, I was hoping to borrow you. To critique my speech. If– if you don’t have anything better to do.”

“I don’t,” Grantaire said instantly, before realizing what he had said and coloring. “I mean…”

“Go,” Floréal said with a small smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I think we can handle one night apart.” She kissed him on the cheek before grabbing her coat and heading out. Grantaire watched her leave for only a second before looking back at Enjolras, a small, slightly crooked smile spreading across his face as he did.

“So where do you want me?”

----------

Floréal looked resigned as she sat down next to Grantaire on the bench he had asked to meet her at in the park the following day. It had been where they first met, and she glanced a little ruefully at it before telling Grantaire, “I suppose it’s poetic, in a way. Ending things here, where they began.”

Grantaire winced. “Is it that obvious?”

“The ‘we should talk’ text did a lot of heavy-lifting for you,” Floréal said with a half-smile. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t see this coming before that.” She hesitated for a moment before asking, “I never stood a chance, did I?”

Grantaire sighed and looked away for a long moment before shaking his head and looking back at her. “If it makes you feel better, you came the closest.”

“But not close enough.”

Floréal didn’t sound upset when she said it, but Grantaire still looked pained. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

She shook her head. “Don’t be,” she said with a little laugh. “I think I knew all along.” She considered it for a moment. “Honestly, I think that was part of the appeal.”

Grantaire frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She trailed off before shaking her head again. “There was always an end date on this, and that meant I didn’t have to worry about commitment. After all, you always belonged to someone else. I could tell, even if I didn’t want to believe it.”

“I resent the implication that I belong to anyone,” Grantaire said lightly.

But Floréal didn’t rise to the bait. “Fine, maybe not you, but your heart at least belongs to someone else.”

Grantaire’s expression tightened. “Well, there is that.”

Floréal laughed again and patted Grantaire’s knee. This was a lot of fun, Grantaire.” She paused. “Well, maybe not this conversation, but the rest of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave him a look. “You said that already.”

Grantaire didn’t smile. “I wouldn’t choose this, you know,” he said, his voice low. “If I had a choice.”

Floréal shrugged. “You can’t choose who to fall in love with.” She gave him a pointed look. “But you can choose what to do about it.”

“What are you saying?” Grantaire asked.

“I’m saying maybe you should try to focus on the five dates with the person you actually want to be with, the five dates that would actually lead to more.”

Grantaire made a face. “It’s the one date that I’m worried about,” he told her honestly.

“And that is no longer my problem.” She stood, and Grantaire hurried to stand as well. “Best of luck, Grantaire – I mean it. I wish you nothing but the best.”

The smile he gave her was genuine, if a little rueful. “Same to you. I wish whomever you find will give you a lot more than five dates.”

“And I hope whomever I find will love me as much as you love Enjolras.”

Grantaire huffed a laugh and ducked his head. “So do I,” he said quietly. He gave her a little wave before he started in the opposite direction, his feet automatically taking him in the direction of the Musain and the inevitable five dates with the next placeholder until he was finally ready to see if he actually stood a chance of his own.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #floréal #grantaire x floréal #grantaire x the idea of dating someone who is not enjolras #fanfiction #les miserables #ask #answered #hey nonny #fic prompt #modern au #developing relationship #Anonymous

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favefandomimagines · 4 years

Text

Train Wreck (d.m.)

Summary: Draco didn’t think he’d find something worth living for until he met you.

AN: this takes place during sixth year, draco has a the dark mark and it takes place during the war, it’s a bit all over the place but oh well also there’s a little bit of fred and the reader in here!

warnings: suicidal thoughts, death

His sixth year wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was supposed to have a normal year with his friends and with you. But his father, and his whole family, had other plans for him.

Draco had to cancel your summer trip to Paris so he could get the dark mark branded on to his forearm. He told you it was because he had an aunt who was deathly ill and he had to visit her.

When you both got back to school, he was cold and distant towards you. Of course he blamed it on being stressed about school and his exams. But you knew him better than that.

You’ve been together since fourth year and you could read him like an open book.

One night he stood atop of the Astronomy Tower, overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts. He was given strict orders from the Dark Lord to kill his headmaster at one of his favorite spots. Your favorite spot.

As he looked at the grounds he thought of you. What would you say when you found out he was a Death Eater? Would you hate him? Break up with him? Would you have pity for him? Try to save him?

It was then he realized he was past the point of saving.

‘If I just jump, Dumbledore won’t die.’ He thought. He thought that would ruin Voldemort’s plan and everyone would be okay. The people he envied, Harry, Ron and Hermione, would have a fighting chance.

Once again, his mind went back to you. If he were to give up and do what he was thinking, what would become of you? Would you mourn for him? Miss him? Would you move on with someone who actually deserved you?

Draco had always thought it was matter of time before you left him for Fred Weasley. You were best friends after all and were practically attached at the hip. So he thought if he just jumped, that would give you the chance to be with a person who was better for you than he was.

But he couldn’t leave you alone with the feeling it was your fault if he did it. Because Draco knew that’s what you would think. You’d second guess yourself and think it was your fault. But nothing could ever be your fault.

Draco was knocked out of his worrisome thoughts by the sound of your voice. A voice that could make him feel like everything was okay.

“I thought I’d find you up here. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” You spoke, a smile on your face. Draco gave you a halfhearted version of a smile and you knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on, Draco?” You asked. “You’ve been acting strange since term started. You don’t eat, you barley sleep and you don’t talk to me like you used to. Did I do something?” You added.

“No, no, love. It’s not you. It could never be you. You’re the only thing that feels right in my life. I have a lot going on.” He quickly said, walking towards you and taking your hands in his.

It was then, when his sleeve pulled up a bit, you caught a glimpse of a black line on his forearm. He saw your face fall, void of any kind of expression. He followed your gaze and saw what you were looking at.

Draco quickly let go of your hands and tugged his sleeve down. “Let me see it.” You spoke quietly. “Y/N,” He started. “Let me see it.” Your voice more stern.

He paused for a moment before rolling up his sleeve. You saw the dark mark on your boyfriend’s arm and felt the wind get knocked out of you.

You faltered a bit, becoming a bit light headed at the thought of the person you loved most being a Death Eater. Draco reached out and steadied you and then your eyes met his.

You didn’t seem angry or disgusted. You looked sad for him and he could see in your eyes that you looked scared. Scared of him or for him was unknown.

“When you said you couldn’t come to Paris, you were getting-“ You started, cutting yourself off. “Y/N, you have to believe me. I had no choice. He said he’d kill my family and he’d kill you if I didn’t join him. I-I didn’t want to.” Draco said.

“That’s why you’ve been distant. You think you have to break up with me to protect me. So you were hoping I’d get the hint and break up with you. So I wouldn’t think I did something wrong.” You said, coming to the conclusion all on your own.

And how right you were. He wasn’t surprised. He knew you’d figure it out. You were a prestigious Ravenclaw after all. Top of your year along with Hermione. Only thing that made it acceptable for him to be with you. You were a pure blood witch in a good house that wasn’t Gryffindor. His parents were thrilled for that reason alone. But he kept your friendship with the Weasleys a secret.

“You know I’m not going to let you push me away.” You added. “Y/N, this is dangerous. He’s threatened to kill you twice before. And he doesn’t make empty threats.” Draco rebutted.

“So this is it? This is how our story is going to end?” You asked quietly. “Maybe, when this is all over, we can start again.” He answered.

You looked at him, a single tear rolling down your face. “Just remember that I love you, Draco Malfoy. I always have.” You whispered.

You placed a small, soft kiss on his cheek before leaving him up there alone.

And that was the last time you saw him. The next night, Professor Dumbledore was killed by Death Eaters that had some how made their way into Hogwarts and Draco disappeared after that.

And so did you and your friends. You weren’t involved in anyway but if your three best friends were running to stay safe then you’d do anything to protect them. One reason why the sorting hat took the longest its ever had when sorting you. You had the makings of both a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw.

Before you knew it, Hogwarts was in shambles. The war in full swing, the students of Hogwarts getting roped in and having to fight or be killed.

It wasn’t easy for you to say the least. When you were trying to kill Death Eaters and keep them away from your friends, you were also searching for the familiar head of platinum blonde hair.

You were running through the halls of Hogwarts when you were cornered by two Death Eaters. It was in that moment you were very happy that you had taken part in Dumbledore’s Army in your fifth year and actually learned something.

You shot a defensive spell at them, sending them both into a stone pillar and you had a chance to catch your breath.

“Y/N?” A voice questioned behind you. You whipped your head around and saw Draco standing there, looking broken as ever. “Draco,” you breathed out before he practically ran to you and wrapped his arms around you.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He asked you. “Yes, I’m okay. Are you?” You asked, letting go to look at him. Draco shook his head, looking as if he were about to cry. “I don’t want to die. Not yet. I promised you I’d come back to you and I don’t want to break that promise.” He said quietly.

You placed a comforting hand on his cheek. “This is no place to die. Not here.” You whispered. You grabbed his hand in yours and took off down the hallway. Though you were both stopped short when you heard Voldemort bellow, ‘Harry Potter is dead.’

You froze in your spot as you saw the body of your friend lying on the ground. Ginny was fighting against her father to get to the boy she loved. You felt Draco squeeze your hand until a command made his blood run cold.

Voldemort was asking Draco to join him and you closed your eyes preparing for the worst. “Draco,” Lucius added. You knew he’d go to him. In fear for the lives of his family and for his own. You let go of his hand, as an almost silent way of saying ‘it’s okay.’

He looked down at you, your gaze not meeting his. Draco swallowed thickly as he felt the eyes of every person looking at him, as he walked to join his parents. It was clear to everyone watching the scene that Draco Malfoy was still at the beck and call of his father. All out of fear for his life.

Of course you were disappointed. You were hoping he’d stand up for himself against his father but he wouldn’t put you in danger like that. As it seemed hopeless to put up a fight any longer, Harry sprung up from the ground. Eyes widened and gasps were heard from around the courtyard.

Draco then looked at you and then down to his wand. “Potter!” Draco yelled, tossing the boy his wand. The blonde came running to your side, taking your hand tightly in his.

“We’re getting out of here.” He said attempting to pull you away. “I can’t just leave them. We have to fight.” You rebutted. “Nothing is stopping anyone from killing me. I can’t stay here, Y/N.” He said.

You looked up at him before looking back down to your intertwined hands. You make eye contact with Narcissa Malfoy, giving her a small nod before letting go of Draco’s hand.

“Promise me you’ll find me. When this all over.” You said. “I promise.” He said. You leaned up and placed a deep kiss against his lips before running off, leaving him there alone.

“Y/N!” He called after. “Draco, honey, we need to go.” Narcissa told her son. “Mum, I can’t leave her.” Draco rebutted. “You can’t keep that promise to her if you’re dead, Draco.” Narcissa said, pulling her son towards the bridge.

It was quicker than you thought it would be. A war. Voldemort was dead and now all that as left was the carnage he left behind. Fred was gone. You had walked into the Great Hall seeing the Weasleys crowd around something. Or someone. The sight had made you physically ill as George clung to you like a lifeline.

It was then the only person you had left was George and vice versa. It was funny in a way. Just how quickly your good luck had run out. Your parents and Molly always joked that you and Fred would end up together but the two of you denied it every time. He was your best friend and nothing more. And he felt the same way. At least he made it seem that way.

You were sitting on the ruins of the bridge that led to Hogwarts, your feet dangling over the edge. Your best friend was dead. Half of your year was dead. Draco was gone. You didn’t know what happened to your parents. They were apart of the Order and you wouldn’t be surprised if Death Eaters had gotten to them.

“Y/N?” Hermione’s voice asked. You looked up and saw your friend walking towards you with Ron by her side. They sat on opposite sides of you before Hermione spoke. “You’re thinking about him aren’t you?” She asked.

You nodded your head silently before she took your hand in hers. “I know I shouldn’t. But he didn’t want to be one of them. A-And I know I shouldn’t apologize for anything he did but,” You started. “It’s okay. You love him.” Ron said.

You rested your head on Hermione’s shoulder as you overlooked the grounds. “I’m probably never going to see him again, aren’t I?” You questioned. “You might.” She answered.

Draco didn’t know what to do. Every day the guilt of his actions consumed him. Of course he didn’t take a life. Especially the lives of some of his classmates. He wasn’t able to do that to people he’d known since he was 11. But he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts that night. He was responsible for Dumbledore’s death. And that alone was eating him alive.

Also because of you. You were his number one thought every day since he left you at Hogwarts. On the days it got particularly rough, he saw your face, heard your voice and it forced him to keep going. Draco made you a promise that he’d find you and he was hell bent on keeping that promise.

And once again, Hermione was correct. You were helping George get the shop back up and running. It was hard for the both of you at first. Everything reminded you of Fred and of everything you’ve lost. But doing it together made it seem bearable. You also knew Fred wouldn’t let you and George give up that easily.

You were rearranging some small potion vials when the bell above the door rang, signaling that someone entered.

“How may I help you?” George asked the customer. “I was hoping to talk with Y/N.” The customer answered. Your head snapped in that direction and you saw Draco standing in front of George.

You didn’t think you’d see Draco again after he left with his mother. George nudged you towards your estranged lover and left the two of you alone, going to the office to give you some space.

“I promised I’d find you.” He said, breaking the silence. “Y-You did.” You stammered. He made the first move, moving to get closer to you. You were the one who closed the gap between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re the only thing that kept me going.” He whispered into your ear.

“I love you. So much.” You cried into his shoulder. “I love you too.” He whispered. The two of you stayed that way for what felt like an eternity to you, but only a few minutes. “I’m sorry about, Fred.” He added quietly. He felt your body tense as you held on to him tighter.

Draco was the first to let go when he realized he had never actually stepped foot in the Weasley’s joke shop until then.

You saw the curious expression on his face as he took in the surroundings. “Would you like me to show you around?” You asked with a small smile.

Draco looked down at you and nodded his head as your hand slipped into his. You dragged him all around the store that you were oh so proud of, opening him up to a world of happiness and laughter he had never known before. Not until he met you.

As you showed him all the various pranks and jokes, George watched with a happy but bittersweet smile on his face. He looked down at the picture of him, Fred and yourself before he looked back to you and Draco.

“Don’t worry, Freddie. She’ll be okay.”

requested by: @irishbish

#imagine #imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco x reader #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #hermione granger

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melon-kiss · 3 years

Text

This is just going to be a ramble about everything Sherlock. You’re most welcome to discuss or just ignore it. I needed the space to vent.

I watched Sherlock. Again. I think it’s beginning to become my annual tradition. And I have a crisis. Don’t get me wrong, I am always Sherlollian at heart. It’s just… I have doubts sometimes. And what triggered those doubts this time was the fact that Sherlock calls Molly “John”. Twice. And then Irene Adler. And then one post on Tumblr. And many, many more.

OK, these are just my random thoughts. Enjoy if you’re willing to read them.

1. “John”. “Molly”.

We often mix up names of people we consider to have the same place in our lives. Which is good, right? Right. Only, in Sherlock’s case, we’d have lean into the theory that Sherlock does love John romantically and feels the same way about Molly. Or concede the fact that he loves them both platonically. Neither of these options is really satisfying, isn’t it? Well, that’s why I’m struggling… One could say he’s in denial of feelings for Molly and identifies them as friendship, as this is the strongest, purest relationship in his life, the only one he describes as emotional and the closest he’s ever had to love. Besides, Molly and John are similar in one way – they both share the same – medical – knowledge. Of course, Sherlock doesn’t realise her other qualities until The Reichenbach Fall when she says she can help him whenever he needs it. It’s not until she’s honest with him again and tells him, without a shred of grudge, that she knows she means nothing to him, that he realises he has at least two friends. He calls her “John” when his mind is busy with something else, so there’s no room for any purposeful confusion. The same thing happens in The Empty Hearse. What else can it mean if not friendship?

2. Nothing Hits Like Irene

Irene Adler is created as the love interest for Sherlock. Is she, though? Well, we see Sherlock utterly confused upon their first meeting. We also see him flirting and creating an atmosphere of sexual tension for the first time. OK, he saves her but then she vanishes, he got over her, I thought. And all was fine until The Lying Detective came and Irene Adler sent a text to Sherlock, first in such a long time. John, of course, suggests that if Sherlock should be romantically involved with anyone, it should be her. And then it hit me.

Irene Adler is the symbol of chemistry in Sherlock’s life.

She’s a dominatrix. She’s all about sex, that’s obvious. At the critical point of The Scandal in Belgravia Sherlock says: I believe John Watson thinks love’s a mystery for me but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very distractive. Sherlock discovers that he, indeed, can have chemistry with people. He doesn’t mention love, he merely says sentiment, referring to the crush Irene Adler had on him. She is, indeed, a simple distraction – you can see it clearly in his memory palace when he yells at her to get away. But Molly… Molly stays. She leads him through the entire process of surviving a shot.

And then Irene Adler returns in The Lying Detective. John confesses to Sherlock about texting with a stranger met on the bus. And that he wanted more. Sherlock says everyone gets to be human sometimes. Even he can’t resist the urge of replying to Irene Adler sometimes. It was all about attraction again.

And that’s why she’s not considered a romantic relationship in his life. John rambles about love changing him, to be more specific, the love of his woman changing him. But he says Irene’s a dangerous criminal. How would that change Sherlock in any way?

In The Final Problem, upon deducing the coffin, John suggests Irene Adler but she’s not his first thought in general once they all hear that this is about someone who loves Sherlock. Sherlock’s response is very telling: Don’t be ridiculous. Look at the coffin. It seems like Sherlock pieces the puzzle at once – the coffin, plus the “name” on the lid – it couldn’t have been Irene Adler.

And that’s why Sherlock calls her The Woman. As a symbol of his sexuality. The Woman who’s woken up certain impulses in his life.

3. Makeshift Gauge

Who is she?, Sherlock asks John in His Last Vow.

Based on what Mofftiss duo said about Molly, she was supposed to be featured in two episodes top. Yet, she stayed. The uncanonical character not only stayed but became fans’ favourite. I think she became a useful tool for Moffat and Gatiss. I think that not only she represents Sherlock heart (of which existence he has no idea at first) but later becomes our makeshift gauge. For what? For measuring Sherlock’s progress. See, it’s like when you live with someone, you don’t notice when they put on weight or grew a little but those who see less of them will notice all changes right away. So, when Sherlock runs around with John, we don’t notice the change in his behaviour at once (also because he’s always been nice to him, from the very beginning), we need to focus to see that. But Molly pops by once per episode and we see how Sherlock’s perception changes. In season one, he has good intentions, but they turn out bad. In season two, he’s more neutral but doesn’t restrain himself from rude comments. And Molly is being Molly – tells him he’s rude in her natural, soft way and he says sorry. For the first time. Without anyone making him do that. Almost the same happens in The Reichenbach Fall – but this time, Molly doesn’t let herself be fooled by Sherlock’s arrogance and just ignores it, going straight to the point. She says: “I’m here for you” and lowers his defences. In season three, he spends an entire day with her, smiles at her and is the sweetest, softest Sherlock we’ve ever seen. Moreover, when Lestrade asks him about her helping him solve cases, he says: [John] is not in the picture anymore, implying that she not necessarily had to be a temporary replacement. In season four, he says I love you to her.

What can we deduce about his heart?

4. The Eurus Conundrum

We could write an entire book about Eurus and not even be able to grasp her spirit. I’m not going to do that right now.

I have issues with what happened in season four finale. I mean – Molly, of course. Mycroft says Eurus and Jim Moriarty met five years ago, so before Moriarty revealed himself to Sherlock. They both planned the entire game for Sherlock. Does that mean Sherlock never really won with him? Does that mean Moriarty let him use Molly to “win”? Since she was included in Eurus’ plan, we can safely assume Jim knew about Molly back then. At first, when I saw Moriarty saying We both know that’s not quite true [that you don’t have a heart] in many Sherlolly fanvids, I was like naaaaah. He didn’t see her as one of the important people in Sherlock’s life, it couldn’t have been a reference to their meeting. But now… how deeply back in time was Eurus’ plan allocated? Which events did she predict?

Or maybe I’m missing something? Any thoughts on this?

5. Sherlock Evergreen

I once came across a post here, about how BBC Sherlock is literature, about sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s struggle with his own genius character. He was over with him, didn’t feel like writing any more of his stories so he killed him, but fans demanded more. He kept writing, although he hated it from the bottom of his heart. Season four, so often considered as the worst of all of them, is a way of saying that Sherlock character is, unfortunately, invincible. Immortal. He will live forever. We can’t kill him, no one can. Even his creator couldn’t have done it.

In season four, Sherlock goes back to the start. He is a clean slate again. He went through the entire process of change – became a good Sherlock, considerate of other people’s feelings and emotions, appreciative, supportive, loving, ready to mend what he broke. That interpretation, although very good, kind of killed my Sherlolly spirit. But I guess every interpretation like this would do it. If we stop treating characters like real human being, we’re left with what they really are – a construct, tools, puppets in the author’s hands.

Based on this, I think we’re safe to say there will never be a fifth season of BBC Sherlock (gosh, how I wish I was wrong!). Why? Because, despite what Moffat said in an interview once (after season three finale he said they’ve plotted out the entire fourth and fifth season – liar, liar, pants on fire!), season four had the perfect ending. As mentioned above, Sherlock became a good man and Mary Watson summed up what Sherlock is all about: two man, a genius junkie and a former soldier, who solve the weirdest, the toughest of cases together in flat on 221B Baker Street. Now, Sherlock is ready to be taken over by other artists who may find a new way to tell his story (though, I don’t think so) all over again.

And that’s a big, big shame… I think I speak for at least most of Sherlollians when I say we’d like to see Sherlock and Molly’s first encounter after the call. The finale really closed all the story arcs and subplots, except for this one. I mean, c’mon. You don’t have to be a Sherlollian to be annoyed by this – just remember that it was such a “biggie” that Moffat was asked about this in an interview. And this may be another reason as to why we won’t ever get a fifth season of Sherlock – because that would mean taking a side. And none of the creators will do it because Sherlock cannot be an open-and-shut case. It has to be like literature: big, open, twisted, unclear and full of room for interpretation. As long as there’s no certain explanation – yes, Sherlock loves Molly, no, Sherlock is gay – we create more and more content out of the need of closure. Thanks to the room for interpretation, the story lives. I mean, it’s been four years since The Final Problem airing and here I am, discussing BBC Sherlock still.

Coming back to Sherlolly… don’t worry. Though I’m still not sure that we can harvest any hard evidence for Sherlock’s feelings for Molly (other than friendship and respect), I’m still a Sherlollian. There two new fics waiting for me to pull myself together and write them. I think it’s good to have doubts – it means my brain hasn’t rotten yet and I can still be critical, I’m able of having my own opinions.

Thank you if you managed to read it all! I’d love to discuss if you have any conclusions. If not, that’s fine, too. I just needed it get it out of my system.

PS WHY DOES MY POSTS IN ENGLISH SOUND SO SOPHISTICATED IN MY HEAD BUT WHEN I PUT THEM IN WRITING, THEY’RE SO SHITTY?!

#bbc sherlock #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #irene adler #molly hooper #sherlolly #molly x sherlock #thoughts #eurus holmes

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hinaaspanda · 3 years

Text

...and they were (more than) roommates! | njm

Pairing: Campus Pretty Boy + Roommate! Jaemin x Dancer! Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 9576

Your easily distracted mind had made it maddeningly clear; no song, no matter what the tempo or melody, could take your mind off of your one and only roommate, Na Jaemin.

a/n; hi! for this fic i tried adding my own oc (Hina) just to spice things up!! lol totally not to insert myself as jenos love interest or anything ahaha anyways please enjoy!

Huang Renjun never thought that breaking off one college relationship would be so detrimental to your heart.

It really was such a small relationship, just one month of innocent pecks on the cheeks in between classes, weekend dinner dates, and trips around the city on your breaks. It was such a minute thing, yet your heart couldn’t get enough. You grew invested, never wanting to let go. Becoming dependent on mere goodbye kisses. And after one month of being together, you were stuck watching him drift away, fingers intertwined with that of someone new. Now, of course, one question remained; if it was such a short relationship, why in the world did it hurt your heart so much?

You sat under the brisk afternoon sunlight, gnawing at the cafeteria food as your campus friends began bickering over god knows what. You tune out the ruckus before you, your mind wandering like a lost child between the aisles of a supermarket. An image of him swims into your mind as you curse under your breath. It didn’t matter how healthy your break up was, or how put together your persona must’ve seemed. The only thing you wanted was to be in Renjun’s arms once again.

Suddenly, you felt the stares of a concerned Hina and Shotaro burning through you. Your shoulders shivering at the sudden thrust into the spotlight. Was your thinking face that miserable-looking? You sent a half-assed chuckle in the hopes of diverting their attention.

“Is something wrong-”

“You were thinking about him again, weren’t you?” Your childhood friend, Hina, began rather harshly, throwing off your more laid-back classmate, Shotaro. “About Renjun?”

The soda that slid down your throat almost shot out of your lips, straight into the air as Hina stared you down, interrogating you. How obvious were you? You pondered for a little bit, your eyes now meeting Hina’s and Shotaro’s concerned ones. You couldn’t defy the truth to your overly caring friends, even if you tried. “...Yeah. I was.”

The somber air around you thickened with each passing minute as you finished off your lunch for the day. You wince, fearing your friends would, out of disappointment in your inability to shut up about your failed love life, cut ties with you right then and there. You wouldn’t blame them, though. Even you were starting to get tired of your weak, measly heart. Shotaro breaks the silence, a sweet grin plastered on his face.

“Don’t worry about it, y/n! You just need to find something to get your mind off of him!” Shotaro chirps, his upbeat demeanor infecting Hina beside him. Hina continues, a grin now lining her lips.

“How about another date? With someone new!”

You almost scoff out loud. “Another date?”

The bold figure of Hina crossed her arms in disbelief. “There are other guys out there, y/n. What about your roommate? Isn’t he single?.”

“My roommate? No! We’re just friends, nothing else!” You quickly retort, waving your hands in a very strong denial. Hina’s head tilted in persuasion.

“You’ll never know until you try, y/n.” Your head hung low as you let out the fifth sigh that day. You loved Hina, you truly did, but with these outlandish ideas protruding from her head, you were convinced she was going crazy.

...

“What? You gonna chicken out or something?” Donghyuck scoffed through a disgusting amount of food stuffed in his mouth. “You’re telling me the campus hottie’s too scared to go on a date?” Jaemin’s eyes sent nothing but death threats to the aggravating college student, sipping on the vending machine drink destructive to his health. He was offended, to say the least. Offended at how inaccurate his so called ‘friend’ was being, anyways.

Na Jaemin had it all. A decent fashion sense, heavenly proportions, good grades and work ethic. A face most people would classify as attractive, and a bright, luring smile to tie it all together. Some say he was the whole package, driving the women of the campus insane as they line up to get a simple glimpse of the school’s resident hottie. He was the campus pretty boy, but one question remained; why was he still single?

It’s been theorized by many, some believing in his virtuous desire to focus on his studies, while others believe he might just swing another way or simply not interested in the idea of romance. But one thing stayed true, Na Jaemin was not some coward who couldn’t get a date.

The pretty boy sat before his set of now intrigued college friends, Donghyuck, Jeno, and Yangyang, all riddled with such an irritating curiosity it made Jaemin cringe. It was only Tuesday, Jaemin had a tower of school work waiting for him back at home, and the last thing he needed was three idiots challenging his love life. He reached for another sip of his drink, cursing at lack of said drink in the can.

“Don’t be stupid, Hyuck. I could get a girl if I wanted to. I’m just...busy right now, with schoolwork and stuff”

“Oh really?” Donghyuck’s sly voice ticked a flame in Jaemin’s soul. He huffed out a disbelieving scoff as he leaned back on the cheap, plastic chair. Was he really doubting him? He quite literally had the entire female population of the school at his grasp, and Donghyuck was doubting him? Lee Donghyuck was bound to eat his words, as gross as a child to their ice cream.

“Yeah, I can get any girl around here, just watch. And if I don’t?” Jaemin’s eyes scour around, searching for a way out another stupid idea before finally landing on the trash pile that was Yangyang’s homework. “...I’ll do your guy’s homework for a week.”

Everyone’s eyes widened at Jaemin’s proposal, a proposal that stunted even the slyest of prankers, Lee Donghyuck himself. Was he really going all out? Sacrificing a week of freetime for some measly bet? Even stupefying the once unbothered Jeno, trapped in his own, unexpectedly unfortunate love life.

“Dude are you serious? Deal!” Donghyuck and Yangyang practically hollered, both sending Jaemin a crisp slap on the back. Na Jaemin, how much of an idiot are you?

“So, who do you think you're gonna go for?” Jeno gripped the strap of his school bag as him and Jaemin trotted away from their final class of the day. Jaemin huffed out what felt like the 100th sigh that afternoon. His eyes grazing the trees peeking through the campus windows. Surely he needed a plan, right? No matter how many girls relished in his good looks, he wouldn’t possibly survive without one. Jaemin’s palms grew cold, pupils shaking in a sudden fear. God, maybe he would be stuck writing Yangyang’s overdue essays for the next week.

“What about that y/n girl?” Jeno suddenly chirped. “The quiet one from the dance department?”

Jaemin froze in his tracks, looking synonymous to a deer caught in headlights. He tilted his head, puzzled, to say the least. “...y/n?”

“Yeah, I heard she got out of a relationship recently.”

Jaemin’s once boastful voice soon grew into a stuttering mess as Jeno walked past him, sending a heartwarming chuckle. Jeno turned around, giving one final look to Jaemin, currently bathing underneath the small snippets of evening sunlight.

“It’s just something to think about, Jaem. Don’t worry about it too much.”

...

Your legs were anything but stable as you stepped off the city bus that night. You loved to dance, but you wouldn’t be lying if you said it drained you faster than a mosquito sucking out your blood. The mustard streetlight effortlessly cascaded off of your frame as your wobbly figure began its long trek to your apartment. Sudden buzzes from your phone shook you awake一a sensation your exhausted self clearly needed一before you clicked on the notification.

Roomie :) [7:34pm]: I bought us some dinner before I got home

Roomie :) [7:34pm]: sorry it’s frozen pizza lol I’m too poor :((

Roomie :) [7:36pm]: oh also I got a favour to ask when u get here

Your mind trails back to lunch, with a familiar phrase replaying in your head for the umpteenth time that day.

How about another date? With someone new?

You huffed out another somber sigh, something you found yourself doing a lot, lately. Could you really do it? Could you finally let go of the dead weight? Finally free yourself of the heartbreak tainting you? You feel your heart clenching inside you as you fumble with your house keys. Could your heart handle another simple date?

What about your roommate? Isn’t he single?

No, your roommate didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve being bombarded with the atrocity that was your failed love life. He was too sweet, too caring to deal with anything of the sort. Besides, with how gentle and pleasant he is, it was certain you didn’t deserve him.

This wouldn’t have been the first time you held your roommate in such high regard. He really had it all, a kind personality, decent looks, and an exquisite taste in cheap, diabetes inducing food. He knew all the best coffee places and knew the perfect times to surprise you with your favorite drinks. He wasn’t just some rando who split the rent with you. He was your friend. A sudden rush of unwanted blood heats up your cheeks as you stop in your tracks.

He was your friend. Nothing more.

The golden light of your apartment blinded you as you strolled in. The figure of your roommate was cast before you, dawning his classic ivory shirt and grey sweatpants, paired perfectly with his undone hair, and a plate of steaming hot pizza, straight from the microwave. It looked nothing like the pretty boy image he left your apartment with before class this morning. It was surreal, really. Only you got the luxury to see him like this. It was one of the strange perks of being roommates with the one and only, Na Jaemin.

“Welcome home!” Jaemin chirped to your sleepy figure. He thrusted the plate of pizza to you, a smile wiped across his cheeks. “Pizza?”

...

Your heart almost leaped out of your chest.

Your trembling, sweaty palms couldn’t stop shaking since dinner, almost breaking one of your scarce dinner plates in the process of washing them. You couldn’t blame yourself, though. Na Jaemin’s proposal was nothing but calming.

“So, what were you gonna ask me, anyways?” You spat through your mouth full of rubbery pizza. God, you need to eat properly before practice. You glanced at our roommate, currently fiddling with the tips of some miscellaneous fork as he suddenly dodged your eyes.

“Uh, yea, that.” He stuttered. So timid, it was unreal to you. Usually this man had no fear of asking for favours. Whether it was doing his laundry or fixing up dinner on his assigned day of the week, he would never show any hesitation on asking you to do anything.

“Okay this is gonna sound weird, but…” Jaemin started, breaking into a cold sweat. “I need you to go on a fake date with me.” Jaemin finally exhaled before connecting his eyes with yours. The whites of your eyes spilled out, along with the juice that almost had the chance of successfully slipping down your throat. He wanted... what?

“Don’t worry! It’s just gonna be one date! I made this stupid bet with Hyuck, and if I don’t get a date soon, I need to do their homework for a whole week!” He gripped the locks of his hair as he slumped onto his side of the dining table.

You shuffled back to the dining room, clenching your paper towel tightly in your palm. Anything to help calm your rapid heart down, just for a moment. “And, you can use this as a chance to distract yourself from that Renjun asshole.”

A sudden pain struck your chest like a lightning bolt to a lanky tree, barren in a grassland. You wince at the sudden calling of that name, your taste buds growing sour. You let out another soft sigh. You really need to get over him, fast. You stretch up from your seat, hoisting up the now empty dinner plate as you trudge towards the sink. But not before stopping in your tracks, tilting your head in Jaemin’s direction.

“I-uh-I’ll think about it.”

Oh, you thought about it, alright. Screamed into your poor, innocent pillow about it, at least.

It all zoomed too fast for you, too swift for your brain to handle. Your breathing grew short and shallow. You felt as if you could die, right then and there, gripping onto your bed sheets while freaking out about Na Jaemin, your bold roommate. No, you couldn’t take up his risque offer. You were in no shape to go on another date, even if it did have no actual meaning behind it. You were too tangled in your mess of a life, and this stupid move would only fan the fire.

You can use this as a chance to distract yourself from Renjun.

The phrase rang through your head more time than you would’ve liked. No matter how much you shielded yourself from his claim, Jaemin would still be right in that manner. You needed to distract yourself, sure. But was this the way to go?

Another sigh escapes your lips as you rush down the hall of your apartment. Your steps, hesitant as ever, dripping in a mix of confusion, exhaustion and nervousness. It’s official. You are the worst at well thought-out decisions.

“Hey” you huffed at your roommate, eyeing him timidly as he washes the dishes. Something your shaken figure couldn’t properly complete without breaking a glass that night. He shifts to face you, a slightly nervous expression painting him. You clear your throat before continuing, hoping that small cough would stop time in its tracks.

“I-I’ll go on that date with you.”

His classic boisterous smile spreads across his face once again. If your mind wasn’t rushing around in four different places at once, you could probably admit that you found it the slightest bit cute.

“Really? Thanks so much! How does this Saturday at 7 sound?”

You only had the mental energy to swiftly nod your head as you zoomed back into the confines of your room, your safe space. You couldn’t help but notice the heat rising back to your cheeks as you plopped back onto the bed, vigorously scrolling through your phone to find your saviours.

the gorls and shotaro [9:48pm]: guys I need help with something

the gorls and shotaro [9:49pm]: let’s meet at hina’s after class

...

“I don’t care if you’re just going on some fake date to lie to his friends, I still wanna make you look hot!” Hina never failed to leave you, Shotaro, and probably some people passing by her house, shaken by her booming voice. With her small, fragile looking frame, she was the last one you’d expect to have such a bold personality.

“Please, that’s the fifth dress in your closet she’s tried already. It’s just a fake date, we don’t even need to try hard!” Shotaro challenges, his attention leaving a now grumbling Hina as it turns towards you. “Why did you even say yes, anyways?”

“I dunno, I’m stupid?” You murmur, the hint of bitterness caught in your breath. You give a subpar twirl to your audience, a deadpan expression shielding your face. “I guess I wanna help him? It would suck to do all that homework for a week.”

“Yeah, but he could easily ask any other girl on the campus. This is freaking Na Jaemin we’re talking about!” Hina once again hollered. An action that would guarantee her a slap on the head if you didn’t love her so much.

“Are you sure it's just for that stupid bet?”

You slip into the makeshift change room, which was really just blankets hung on coat hangers, propped across two sides of a corner in Hina’s room. After making your final decision for your outfit of the night, you change back into your own clothes, stalling your response to Hina’s question. You never knew why you felt the need to stall, though. You should know your answer by now, right?

“Yeah, it’s just for the bet, nothing else.” You find your voice trailing off at those last words of yours as you emerge from the corner, holding the destined outfit that made the cut. Hina sighed, plopping onto the bed like the main character of those dramas after they finally find out they’re in love.

“Just make sure you aren’t lying to yourself, y/n. It could hurt you.”

“Oh really? Isn’t it time you listen to your own advice??” Shotaro provoked, Hina now shooting up from the bed in irritation. “How are things going with that Jeno guy, huh?”

“I am going to murder you.” Hina’s voice stayed low, barely trembling before zooming through the door, chasing a now escaping Shotaro and his incredibly fast feet. You, however, couldn’t pray for Shotaro’s survival. Not with your mind stuck in it’s own rut, and your cheeks now glowing a violent pink.

This was just for a bet, nothing else. You reminded yourself once again.

...

“This wasn’t too bad, right?” His soothing voice swam through your ears softly, but it did absolutely nothing to calm down your heart, which was currently pacing anywhere but your chest. You mustered up all the courage in the world to glance back at his eyes across the restaurant table, your breaths stopping in an effort to hide the sudden rush of blood flowing to your cheeks. With his unbothered eyes locking onto yours in an instant, Na Jaemin sent you another one of his heartache-inducing smiles. “Thanks for helping me with this.”

This shouldn’t be affecting you this much. After all, the only thing you and Jaemin really did was sit under the restaurant roof, order dishes deemed perfect under the social media lens, and take pictures with said dishes, becoming the perfect pieces of evidence to show that Na Jaemin was no coward. However, with the romantic, first date type outfit draped onto your figure, and the general ambience of the room, you couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit flustered. You shot him another smile, one hiding the forest fire that was your mental state. “Uh, yeah! No problem!”

Silence fell over the two of you as you listened to the clinks of glass sounding off from the dishwashing station behind you. A silence that you wanted to hold onto more than anything. But alas, Your roommate breaks it, glancing up from the ground.

“You look great, by the way.”

Your cheeks flush a deep vermillion. They’ve been doing that a lot lately.

“Thanks, Jaem.” You barely muster out, dodging his eyes. “But you don’t have to say stuff like that, this is all fake, remember?” You took the time to remind him, not fully sure who truly needed it. You fiddled with your fingers as your ears picked up the sudden ruckus of obnoxious college students coming from down the dining hall.

“You should ask her out, Jeno!” a voice chirped

“No! Are you crazy? She probably thinks I’m weird or something”

“I doubt it, you’re hot! Plus, she’s in my department! I can alway ask-”

“Guys, quick, look! Over there!”

The voices grew closer and closer, the whites of your eyes spilling more and more in utter shock. You can’t help but check on Jaemin, the same expression now burning through you. You mirrored each other so much, you could tell the exact words running through his mind right now. Mostly because they ran through yours, too. Oh Shit.

“JAEMIN!!” The voice of an irritating Lee Donghyuck rang through your ears at an alarming, and unwanted rate. The hollers of an equally aggravating Liu Yangyang from Jaemin’s class, swiftly followed, leaving behind the only tolerable one, Lee Jeno behind. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Ahaha, hey!” Jaemin stuttered, panic overflowing in his eyes as the three intruders squished into the already occupied, two person booth. His eyes scanned the restaurant, grasping for any way to escape. Afterall, this was certainly not part of the plan. Donghyuck’s curious eyes scanned, too, his pupils finally focusing on you. “And who might this be?”

“I-I’m y/n” You stuttered out, your wrist feeling heavy as you began gesturing to the date in front of you. “I’m his da-”

A lightbulb jumped from Jaemin’s head, his shoulder jolting in response. Na Jaemin wasn’t one for outlandish pranks, especially if you were at the receiving end, which only made your thumping heart wonder; what the hell was he trying to pull now?

“She’s my date.”

Suddenly, your once isolated and vacant hand was tugged to the center of the dinner table before softly getting encased in his. His fingers, notably bigger than your nimble ones, interlocked with yours. Heat began to creep up at your ears. Who knew your hand fit so perfectly in his? You looked down, foolishly hoping that your cheeks would stop flushing into that embarrassing red if you hid it well enough. “See?”

“Oh!” Donghyuck lined his lips with a stupid grin, his eyebrows wiggling as he scoffs in disbelief. Yangyang riled up with excitement beside him, and even the calm Jeno couldn’t stop his jaw from falling to the floor. Na Jaemin did it. He really pulled it off. “I guess we’re disturbing something, then?”

“No worries! We were just about to leave, anyways” Jaemin still held onto that panicked tremble in his voice as the two of you shuffled through the restaurant booth. He stalked behind you before handing you your coat. “See you guys tomorrow!”

Your mind couldn’t help but focus on the light touch Jaemin’s palm left on the lower, small of your back as he gently escorted you from the restaurant. You felt like a princess, protected by your knight’s brute strength, as you tiptoed on your path of feathers. That darned flushed heat wouldn’t leave your cheeks. Na Jaemin, your one and only roommate, was driving you crazy.

The wind roughly brushes against your cheek as the two of you finally exit the restaurant. The breeze was the last thing you would’ve classified as comfortable, which was why you felt just the slightest twinge of disappointment once the warmth of his hand snaked away from you. His palm hugged the nape of his neck as his eyes softened from their former panic.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t know they’d show up so randomly.”

No, he had nothing to apologize for. It was your fault for being so greedy. You instinctively widen the distance between you, saving yourself from a wave of embarrassment.

“It’s fine.”

It’s official, you hated your weak heart more than anyone.

...

Three. There were three instances in which your heart was set on fire the next day, by none other than the infamous Na Jaemin, of course.

[10:49 am]

A violent GAME OVER! blasted through your ear drums as you slumped on the couch, watching your roommate die for the 70th time that evening. He let out an equally jolting groan, throwing the controller to the depths of your living room carpet before rushing to check if it was okay. You sat promptly on the couch he leaned against, mindlessly scrolling through your phone as if last night you didn’t experience the most heart-collapsing date in the 19 years of your life.

Your heart still hasn’t properly healed from it, either. Every time you pass by him in the halls, whether it be a quick snack or a glass of water, your heart never fails to tense up, your throat tightening up in a cruel response. You swear, Na Jaemin was out for your blood the moment he asked you to stay in the living room with him, even if it was to simply watch him fail play.

“Aw fuck me!” Jaemin suddenly blurted out as he examined the now loosened control button. As if on cue, an army of redness storms through your cheeks as you listen in, his simple word choice setting you off. Your head shakes vigorously enough to give you a pounding headache, before you get the chance to fill your head with certain spoiled thoughts. Wow, you really are evil.

You didn’t spare him the explanation for your sudden departure from the living room couch. All you knew was that your mind and heart were running haywire, and the only thing that could stop you from thinking about your roommate as anything but your roommate was a deep rethinking of your own morals beside your castle of stuffed animals.

[2:45 pm]

“Here, I’ll get that for you.” Jaemin’s towering figure shielded your back from the apartment kitchen as he stretched over, retrieving the ranging dish your pitiful frame couldn’t reach. He closed the air between you, his extended chest grazing your shoulder as you stood frozen, your mouth gaping open. He sends you a playful grin as he hands you the plate. “You should try growing a little more, y/n!”

You were too stuck in your questionable haze to tighten your grip on the glass plate, so it was only natural to feel the glass slip through your fingers, shards of the crisp material scattering around your bare feet. Frightened, Jaemin scurried below you, the gentleness of his fingers as he picks up each shard of glass sending butterflies to your stomach.

“Oh my god! Y/n, are you alright!?” You wanted to scoff at his face. Of course you weren’t.

“Uh, yeah. I’m okay.”

He glances up from below you, his fingers circling the new scratch on your foot that only surfaced from your astound clumsiness.

“Be careful next time, alright?”

You nod hesitantly, staying frozen as Jaemin swiftly works around you; throwing out the dangerous glass shards, running away to retrieve your first aid kit, and patching up your pathetic wound in what felt like one swift heartbeat. God, how pathetic were you?

[8:22 pm]

“Have you seen my hoodie? The blue one?” Jaemin showed no mercy to your innocent door as it swung straight into the wall beside it. You let out an award-winning shriek, your once calm figure jumping from its curled up position. “I think it’s in your laundry bin.”

What he actually had on was...minimal. Nothing but tousled, damp hair and a white towel hooked around his waist. You would let out another shriek if you wanted to, but the lack of air reaching your lungs, all from the utter shock of a half-naked Na Jaemin in your wake, stopped you from spitting out any kind of noise imaginable. You dig your fingernails into the flesh of your poor teddy bear as you shield your eyes from your door frame.

“Gahh! What are you doing?”

“Huh? Oh.” It finally clicked in his mind that his current appearance was not for the faint of heart. Not for yours, at least. You let out another ear- piercing wail. “Put on a shirt already!!”

Jaemin let out a boastful, childish laugh. He leaned over, digging for your eyes, which were currently finding anything else to lay their attention on. “What, are you getting flustered?”

Your eyes finally meet up with his as he keeps you hostage with his stare. A familiar heat storms up your cheeks for the millionth time that evening as you grip the limb of another one of your stuffies on standby. With one final whine, you chuck the plush at his direction. Your lack of looking back all in an effort to hide your glowing red face, out for revenge. “Get out!”

“You’re so cute, y/n.” Jaemin teasingly hums as he slips out of your door frame. You let out an exhausted huff, your chest loosening so much, you’re convinced you haven’t been properly breathing before then.

Na Jaemin will seriously be the death of you.

...

You knew it was cowardly, but you just had to run away. Your weak heart wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise.

You wisp into the barren walls of the dance studio, the flickering lights blinding your vision as you switch them on. You shuffle to the corner of the room, dropping your bag before fumbling with the music station. A soothing song swims through your ears as you settle down in the center of the room, an eye keeping watch of your posture. You close your eyes. Maybe this will finally calm your heart down.

You start slowly, an arm traveling artistically through the air as your legs twirl around the floor. The melody of the music carries your limbs away, leaving your mind alone to think.

They were just simple interactions, a simple slip up ending with a broken dish, a simple choice of words, a simple clasp of the hands to keep up with some measly lie. They were such small things, so why did your heart light up in flames everytime? Why did each instance leave a staining image of Jaemin in your mind, everytime?

You think back to the man that held your heart, before brutally smashing it with his own fist. Huang Renjun. He hasn’t grazed your mind for quite some time now, but this familiar feeling wasn’t exactly pleasurable. Your heart soaked itself in that same lonely feeling, the desire to cling back. You froze from your dance, expecting full well your mind would submerge in a pool of sorrow. Yet, this week was just full of surprises, wasn’t it?

Another image of your horrid roommate flies into your mind, your head mentally swatting it away like a pestering insect. Nonetheless, it’s trailed back, persistent as ever, as you grumble your way to turn off the music. Na Jaemin, wins again.

You could admit, Jaemin kept his promise at shielding your mind away from your failing love life, but he never warned you about the repercussions that were of him seeping into a corner of your heart. His risque, almost flirty behaviour, his teasing remarks, a smile that would brighten up a barren world. He just wouldn’t leave your mind. Yet, you knew you couldn’t have him. If your forest fire of a romance with Renjun had taught you anything, it was that you couldn’t love. You were too clueless, too childish to properly hold someone’s heart. You didn’t deserve anyone’s love.

After gathering your belongings, you trek out the door. You were so lost in your thoughts, not even the thing you held to your heart so dearly, dancing, could pull you out of your rut. You were in no state to go back home just yet, so your fingers trace your phone screen to look for Hina, your resident childhood friend and therapist, apparently. And you wished you had the luxury of plopping onto Hina’s bed, screaming out all your anger into her pillow as she sneaks snacks up to her room, but your horrid life had other plans.

A familiar figure stop’s in their tracks, their bag swaying in their grasp一a grasp that was almost loosened in pure shock一 as they connect their eyes to yours. You stay frozen, your breath hitching as you search for anything to say. And by the looks of it, they were doing the same.

“Y-y/n?” The voice of a flabbergasted Huang Renjun rings through your ear. “W-what are you doing here?”

...

It didn’t take Jaemin long to realize you had left early that morning. Your dance bag left an awkward space beside your night stand in its absence, the dish drying rack was already occupied, with one simple plate and a glass turned over. But more importantly, Jaemin woke up with an empty, lost feeling rumbling inside him一something he only felt when you weren’t around.

It first occurred during the third week of splitting rent, when you joined the school’s dance team. You had left the room without a trace, leaving Jaemin to search for you like a lost puppy to its reluctant owner, instead of getting ready for his afternoon class. He tried his best to brush it off as simple boredom, but with the way his vision simply lights up in your presence, even he started to get suspicious of himself.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint it at first, the very reason you always trailed in his mind. It could have been anything. Your immense amount of talent, the wisp of anonymity that surrounded you, one he strived to break to get to know you better. The angelic personality he was first greeted with once he did break down that barrier. Anything about you could’ve easily pulled his heart closer to you. He was in love.

Nevertheless, he clearly wasn’t obvious enough, as within weeks of beginning your college career, your figure was cradled in the arms of another man. Huang Renjun, resident A+ student and Jaemin’s childhood classmate.

As the days pass by, and he becomes bombarded with endless homework, the two of you slowly drift apart, returning to the simple ‘roommate’ label on your contact lists. He resorts to the abundance of girls around the campus. Hoping each one he’d fool around with could finally get his head away from you. Yet, as he always comes home just to see your face, so did his heart, apparently.

Don’t get him wrong, he felt terrible the night you trudged home in tears, the fresh sadness of a break up welling through you. And he tried everything in his power to make you feel better, though it never worked. But一 and he would rather kill a man than ever let this slip from his tongue一he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit relieved that you were finally in his grasp once again.

“So, how serious are you? About her?” Jeno quizzed through the phone, a now distressed Na Jaemin on the other side of the line. Jaemin fell onto the bed, dust particles jumping into the air.

“I really like her” Jaemin huffed.

“So? Then go tell her! You should be with her, not here blabbering about her to me. Look, you don’t have anything to worry about, Jaem. It’s not like she’s in a relationship anymore.”

Jaemin's eyes widen and Jeno’s nonchalant words. That's right. You weren’t taken anymore. Not trapped in the confines of another man’s arms. It was what he was fighting for, all those months ago. Na Jaemin finally had a shot with you.

“Are you sure you like her?” Jeno pulled Jaemin back to reality as Jaemin scrambled to the bathroom. He placed the device down on the bathroom sink, his eyes locking in with his reflection from the bathroom mirror. “Yeah.”

He chuckled to himself before ending the call, an image of you rolling into his mind. ‘Like’ would be a deep understatement. He was in love, has been for months now, and he was finally ready to tell the truth. He probably looked like a little kid hungry for ice cream, but he didn’t care. He paced out the door. He was going to finally have you, once and for all.

...

“She and I are good, yeah.” Renjun stuttered out, not looking past the drink he hastily purchased before the two of you sat down in the campus cafe. “What about you? How have you been?”

With all your might, you stopped your throat from belting out a petty laugh. How have you been? Was he being serious? You’ve been pleasant, aside from all the inner turmoil ringing through your heart at the moment. You sent a bogus smile at the man in front of you. “I’ve been...alright.”

The awkward silence suffocated you, squeezing your throat so tight, not a single sliver of air could slip through. Why did he come across you now of all times? And why did he have to be so much more emotionally sound than you were? Renjun shifted around, clearing his chest with a small ahem! You knew he was always a man who would never beat around the bush, and today was no exception.

“I’m sorry…” His sudden confession shook you to your core, the liquid inside your glass mimicking your shivering movements. Your eyes, out of pure shock, finally take the courage to graze across Renjun as he continues. “I’m sorry for leaving you like that, I know I didn’t give you that much of an explanation back then.”

Your eyes retire back to the wooden table in front of you. He didn’t need to apologize. He didn’t need to explain himself at all, not when your greedy heart was at fault. “I knew I couldn’t give you what you wanted. I wasn’t enough for you.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Renjun.” You were having enough trouble forgetting him as it is, you didn’t need this.

“I didn’t wanna lie to myself, so that’s why I left you so abruptly like that.” He explains, his fingers turning white from his grip on the coffee cup. Your breaths grow short, your mind scurrying to find the hidden meaning behind his words. All this time, your mind retired to the idea of him running away from your clinging figure, claiming that now rash narrative as valid; correct. Tearing your heart up into little pieces in the process.

“So we didn’t break up because I was being...selfish?”

“Selfish? Of course not.” He comforted. “You deserve someone else, someone way better than me.”

Your mind trails back to your roommate once again, his smile growing more contagious. You find your lips sneaking in a small smile at the thought of him. Except, this time, no twinge of sorrow had followed. Like a bag of bricks lifted off your shoulders, you were finally free. You shined a genuine grin, your first in a long while. “So, we’re good?”

“Of course, y/n.”

You were so trapped in your own childish thoughts, you didn’t notice the hasty booming steps crash through the cafe door frame.

“Y/N!” The voice of your roommate flew through your ears, striking you like a deer caught in blinding headlights. His volume was so loud, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard him from the outside of the cafe. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

...

Usually, Na Jaemin was laid back. Generally unbothered with a smirk lining his lips every now and then. It was one of the ways he stayed on top of the collective campus hierarchy for so long, he was always calm, cool, and collected. He always was, except for today. Instead, he was scrambling at his feet, thumbing through every inch of the school, looking for the infamous y/n.

He finally skips to the cafe, the faint scent of coffee and flavouring overtaking him. He was a panting mess, his hands gripping at the bolts of his knees as he leaned over in pure exhaustion. It was weird, Jaemin always considered himself to be decently fit. It must’ve been you, suddenly turning his world upside down.

She’s gotta be here.

As if on cue, your head pops up on the corner of his eye, basking under the afternoon sunlight which generously seeped through the cafe window. Your eyes weren’t on him, but that wasn’t the worst of his problems. His eyes travel further down your direction, his limp legs mindlessly following like a puppet on two strings. Your eyes weren’t on Jaemin. They were on someone else.

Renjun.

A familiar clenching feeling pulls on his heart harshly, so much so, that his hands reach up to palm the pain through his chest. He’s only felt this rude awakening one other time in the 19 years of his life; the moment you left the house on your first ever date with Huang Renjun. A flame ignites within him as he stalks up to the table. With his heaving breaths and awkward, stiff posture, it was inevitable he'd summon a couple of stares from various customers, but he couldn’t care less.

Usually, Na Jaemin was laid back, but because of you, he became this gross, jealous, poor excuse of a man.

“You didn’t have to be so loud, you know!” You found your voice peaking at the end of your sentence, probably gathering more attention than what you were currently lecturing Jaemin for. A blush stained the circles of your cheeks, though you were never quite sure whether it was the embarrassment of being the center of attention, or the fact that Na Jaemin came rushed and disheveled, looking for you. You cleared your throat to hide your obscene thoughts一a practice you’ve been getting the hang of, lately. “What did you need from me anyway-”

“Why were you with him.” Jaemin cut in. Although, with his stone cold frame now towering over you, his eyes; unassuming and distant, and shallow, hitched breaths, you weren’t even certain this was the same roommate you couldn’t get out of your head for the past week. You simply wave your hand away.

“We just happened to meet up by accident, and we got to talk some stuff out, that's all.” You prayed that your calm voice could soothe the currently tempered man before you. Of course, however, it didn’t.

“Was it really?”

“Yes! Okay, Jaem? What’s with you today?”

“Don’t visit him anymore.” His voice boomed towards the end of his sentences, startling even the finest of nature as two innocent birds fly away in fear.

Something didn’t click, didn’t sit right in your head. Since when was he so demanding? So rude? You found yourself slowly backing away from his figure, an action you thought you’d have to do in your life. Before, he was always a safe space for you, even without your confusing feelings for him. He was always there for you. But now, the air around turned gray, and you were scared more than anything. You scoff, throwing Jaemin off.

“Are you telling me what to do?”

“I’m only worried for you, y/n.”

“Worried about what, exactly? That I’d get back with Renjun?” You stand firm before him. Y/n, what the hell are you doing now. To your own dismay, you continue. “Why would you care about that anyways?”

“Am I not allowed to care about you!?” He practically hollered at the top of his lungs. A fire welled up inside you, with no way of fanning it down. Who does this guy think he is?

“Last time I checked, we didn’t have anything real! Everything between us was all a damn lie! So no, maybe you don’t!”

You lay one final blow straight to Jaemin’s chest, knocking him down like a line of concurred dominoes. Your heart clenches in a cruel response. You were right, factually correct, but the truth always came with a price. Spectators began to crowd around the scene, as a fuming Jaemin stalks towards you, closing the distance between your shoulder blades and brick wall behind you.

“WELL MAYBE I WANTED SOMETHING REAL!” Jaemin retorted, eyes holding a flame you never thought your calm roommate could ignite within him. The air around you grew cautious, the only things sounding off were the weary engines driving past the scene of the crime. His breath grew shallow as it brushed against your skin, your trembling figure watching as he let out an aggravated sigh. His fingers, laced in irritation, comb through his hair as he softens his voice into one final whisper.

“But you don’t want anything like that, right? ‘Cause you’re still caught up with that Renjun asshole?”

“Jae-”

“Forget it” Jaemin spits, his eyes finally dodging yours. He backs away from your trembling figure, his hands buried in his pockets as he quickened his pace away from you. Jaemin hissed under his breath, everything finally clearing up in his head. You didn’t want him, You were never ready to move on. It’s official, Na Jaemin couldn’t have you, and he never will.

...

Your brain always had a knack for remembering things, keeping random nuggets of knowledge stored deep within random crevices of your head. Your brain always had a good memory, and today was no exception.

Forget it.

You could probably liven up a lifeless desert with your endless tears that stained Hina’s pillows that night. It would be life or death to retire properly to your own home, not with the atrocity that was this afternoon still thriving in your wake. One more bottled emotion, and your body would simply burst out of existence. You could only properly pinpoint three of them; exhaustion welling up in your feet, confusion tearing through your brain, and guilt overflowing in your heart.

“What am I gonna do?” you weep through the flesh of Hina’s teddy bear. After tossing the empty pop can into her makeshift trash can, Hina plopped onto her bed beside you, drilling a finger straight into her temple. “You need to tell him how you feel, y/n, you can’t just leave him in the dark like that. That’s probably why he got so riled up.”

Your eyes shake as they stay on the ground. Hina shuffles around arms crossing in a full interrogation. “You do know what you want, right?”

Slowly, and without much thought pulling at your strings, you slowly nod. “Well then, what is it?”

An image of your roommate shines into your head once again. The kind roommate you had the great luxury of coming home to, the one always saving you a slice of frozen pizza for when you arrive, the one who reaches the irritating dishes at the top of the cupboard, the one you couldn't get out of your mind. His heartwarming demeanour, his charming smile, his everything. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. With a twinge of determination, you lock eyes with Hina.

“I want it all to be real. I wanna be with Jaemin.”

Hina rested her back onto the plump mattress, a smug grin lining her lips as she crossed her arms in pride. “So you’re finally gonna start listening to me, hm?”

...

“Are you sure about this, Jaem?” Yangyang has never一in Jaemin’s two years of knowing him一sounded so concerned for his friend’s wellbeing. It sent shivers down his spine, how pitiful Jaemin must’ve looked right now. His fingers grasped the horrendous stack of papers; one wrong move could easily decorate the floor with the homework, and Jaemin was...concerned, to say the least.

“Why are we even doing this? You won the bet!” Donghyuck hugged his own stack close to his chest as the three boys watched Jaemin’s head sink low to the floor, and watched his heart sink even lower. “Yeah, about that...”

Even if the truth hurts, it needs to be said, right?

“...Y/n wasn’t my date at the restaurant. I never asked anyone out, actually. The truth is… she’s my roommate. I only asked her out on a fake date so I could keep the bet going.”

Jaemin felt the confused, yet somber stares of Jeno burn through his skin. It only made sense that Jeno had a few questions; Na Jaemin’s beaten up, hunched over figure was nothing like the lovestruck, head-over-heels Jaemin he’d witnessed just a couple of days prior. “But it didn’t work out that well with her, so here I am, ready for the punishment.”

It struck Jaemin’s chest more times that could count, slashing at his heart, his pride, everything he loved. How could he be so foolish? Convincing himself his simple crush could ever reciprocate his feelings. Could ever love him back. Nevertheless, it was more clear now than ever before. To you, he would always just have one label; a simple roommate.

“Jaemin-” Donghyuck reluctantly brushed his palm on Jaemin’s shoulder, his best excuse for a peace offering. Jaemin, however, finally snapped, shooting a glare through the eyes of his rather persistent friends.

“What? You were right, okay? I can’t get any girl I want. I really am just a coward, so I deserve this!” Jaemin slumped his figure一drenched in a sorrow he’s gotten quite familiar with, as of late一into a cheap, cafeteria chair, his heart leaping through his throat.

“She was the only one I wanted, anyway, so what’s the point?”

“I think you got a few things wrong there, buddy.” A familiar voice rang through Jaemin’s ears. The whites of his eyes spilled out of their sockets as Jaemin shot up. You couldn’t blame him, though. The last thing he expected to see was his childhood classmate, Huang Renjun, before him. “You still have a chance with y/n, Jaemin.”

Jaemin sent a rough hiss at Renjun before slowly backing down at Renjun’s unnaturally calm demeanour. “What?”

“I’m not after her anymore, nor is she after me.”

Jaemin’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Then why-”

“It was an accident, we didn’t mean to meet up like that. And that talk at the cafe? It was all for closure. It was something she and I both needed, a lot, if I might add.”

“So… you weren’t trying to get her back?”

Renjun squinted at the utter dumbassary currently blinding him at the moment. “No, are you stupid? I have a girlfriend. And besides, when she first saw you barge into the cafe, her flustered reaction tells me she feels the same way, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Heat rushed over to Jaemin’s cheeks, the cause being a 50-50 blend of pure embarrassment一from letting his jealous heart take over his mind一and the simple, but beautiful thought of you. Everything started to fall back in their rightful places. His head was finally cleared, his anger had finally wisped away. And more importantly, you were moment’s away from being his. Moments away from retiring the ‘roommate’ label.

Donghyuck leaped from his seat. A directing hand pointed towards the dance department wing as Donghyuck shifted into his ‘fight or flight’ stance, riling up with energy. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR? CONFESS!!”

Without any further hesitation, Jaemin shot from his seat, his eyes etched with determination, and his heart moments away from bursting through his chest. Donghyuck let out a defeated sigh, arms crossing in disappointment. “God, I can’t believe the campus playboy is such a wuss!”

...

Your easily distracted mind had made it maddeningly clear; no song, no matter what the tempo or melody, could take your mind off of your one and only roommate, Na Jaemin. It also didn’t matter that you spent a whopping one night without his bedroom just across the hall from yours; as your heart was still drenched in the guilt you couldn’t seem to get rid of. However, one thing was made clear that night. Your heart purely and utterly belonged to Na Jaemin alone. Only one thing stayed in your way; he may more may not hate your guts now.

Your palms dripped in a cold sweat as your limbs begrudgingly swam in the air. It was bad enough your dance instructor gave not one, but two lectures about getting distracted to blow your ears dry, but even after that public display of embarrassment, your head couldn’t stop recounting the different ways you could finally tell Na Jaemin the truth; the whole truth.

I want the real thing with you

I don’t just want something fake, Jaemin

I wanna be with you

That last statement threw your cheeks into a heated, rosy frenzy. You cup your hands attempting to hide your horrid thoughts as your dance instructor, with a few deadpan words, sets your class free for the evening. You scurry to the corner, peacefully shoving your things into your bag when Shotaro’s voice suddenly rings behind your ear.

“Y/n? Oh yeah, she’s right over there.”

“Great, thanks.”

You freeze on the spot. You could recognize that voice from a mile away. It was almost concerning on your part.

“Y/n!” The voice yelps, in a tone you hadn’t heard in a while. You smile under your breath. You missed his cheerful voice. You slowly prop up, dropping your bag to the depths of the dance room floor. You pivot on your heel, your chest coming face to face with none other than Na Jaemin, in the flesh. “I need to tell you something.”

After scrambling out of the dance room, certainly not attracting the attention of any unwanted instructors, the two of you hide behind the studio entrance. Jaemin stood just centimeters before you, his breath shivering despite the warmer weather. Although, and you wouldn’t be surprised, but this warm sensation could simply be deriving from your cheeks, which was nothing new.

“I’m sorry I lashed out at you yesterday, I never wanted to be mean to you or anything, I was just… heated, yeah.” Jaemin finally began, scratching the nape of his neck. You didn’t like the fact that he was the one apologizing to you, when you knew it should’ve been the other way around. “You don’t need to say sorry, Jaem. I lashed out too and-”

“I was being all selfish, when I really should’ve been thinking clearly. I-I was jealous when I saw you two together, and I couldn’t take it.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Jealous? He was jealous?

“Truth is… I’ve liked you for some time now, probably ever since we first met. And while the fake date was really fake…” His eyes finally lock yours up, keeping them hostage in his determined glare. “...I really wanted something real between us.”

Jaemin’s hand reached down, cupping your nimble fingers in it as he kept his eye contact tight. His breath hitched as he eyed you, all flustered and adorable with your eyebrows furrowed in a hopeful confusion. Everything about you made him want to cradle you in his arms, never letting go, forever.

“Can I be more than just your roommate, y/n?”

You stayed frozen, mouth gaping wide open at every confession he threw at you. You stayed so still, the only thing visibly moving on your body was the rapid blush zooming through your ears and cheeks, except this time, you didn’t feel the sudden urge to hide such a sensation. Your mind didn’t carry the necessary brian capacity properly function, so naturally, your arms did the job for you.

Your palms cupped the edges of Jaemin’s jaw, a sudden confidence surging through you as you pulled him closer. The tips of your noses collide moments before the surfaces of your lips. You melt into a passion filled kiss, a kiss that’s been pending since the day you first moved in together. Jaemin hugs the small of your waist as you hug his neck. Instinctively, your stomach tucks itself, hiding the embarrassing butterflies fluttering within it. You felt like a celebrity, kissing the campus’ pretty boy; Na Jaemin. Your eyes flicker open.

“Of course you can.”

Your’s and Jaemin’s world crashes back into reality at the sound of a pestering holler, one which Jaemin could only sigh in grief to in response. You turn around only to find a snooping crowd right behind you. Shotaro, joined with two of Jaemin’s friends you first met at the restaurant; Yangyang and Donghyuck, jump for joy at the sight of you two, while a distressed Hina rips her hair out at the fact that she missed the most world shattering confession scene known to man. Jeno, to the right of her, calms her down in a heartbeat. Those two were really perfect for each other. You turn back to Jaemin, a wide grin now taking over his face. He tightens the grip around your hand, a hand that you noticed he’s never let go since he first arrived at your department.

“Do you have another class after this?” “No, why?”

A sly smirk lines his lips as he raises an eyebrow. “Then, shall we go home, darling?”

Gosh, he was such a dork. “Of course.”

…

The long awaited kiss between Hina and Jeno was much more dramatic than any first kiss you could’ve imagined. In fact, it was practically ripped right out the current episode of the drama you and Jaemin had settled down to watch. The air was filled with cheerful hollers roaring from Yangyang and Shotaro and the pathetic wails of Donghyuck realizing that一with Shotaro’s crush on the new girl on campus and the random girl Yangyang met online一he would be the last one standing in the terribly single committeeTM. Jaemin grumbled beside you, his head tucked under your chin as you sat cradled in his arms

“Jeez, Jeno’s stealing my thunder!”

“Let them live, Jaem. They’re in love.”

Jaemin huffed with over exaggeration. “I can’t believe Jeno would betray me like that!”

You pulled Jaemin’s chin up, his face now inches from yours. “Why don’t you forget about them, alright? Just focus on me instead.”

The two of you lean into a kiss, basking in the afternoon sunlight that was peeking through the campus roof. It didn’t matter who was around you anymore, whether they were random strangers or your annoying yet close knit friends. You had already won at life, being the girlfriend of the infamous Na Jaemin; your very special roommate.

140 notes · View notes

sofwrites · 3 years

Note

for the prompt thing; polin + 41

41: sitting close and knees touching | Also my entry for Polin Week Day 3: Modern AU

A modern twist on Penelope finding out about Colin's journals

Themes: angst, yearning, teasing | Length: 2.3k

Read on ao3 or under the cut | masterlist

Thank you for requesting! xx

He hadn’t planned on telling anyone. He really hadn’t planned on anyone seeing them. And he really really hadn’t planned on anyone ever reading them.

The only reason Colin had even started keeping a journal was to remind himself that he was a real person on his travels- that he had the power to leave something permanent on earth. That he wasn’t completely wasting his time flitting from country to country- desperately trying to find some sort of purpose in his life.

Again, he hadn’t planned on anyone seeing them.

But one day he was painstakingly hiding his journals in a deep, hidden corner of his laptop, and the next, Penelope Featherington had found one. She’d found one then read. And somehow, she thought they were good. Actually good. Not I’m-only-saying-this-to-be-nice good.

And, sure, it had all happened by accident, but after some time, Colin was so incredibly thankful that it did.

He’d been hiding out in Eloise’s flat (Anthony had texted about wanting to meet that afternoon because- well, it didn’t matter really. The fact of the matter was that Colin had no desire to do so) when the buzzer rang.

He ignored it and continued to flip through the book in his hand.

But then it rang again. And again.

And on the fourth ring, Colin finally groaned and forced himself off of the sofa.

It was barely a second after his finger had reached the speaker that a loud, rather familiar-sounding shriek rang out. “Eloise!! Eloise! Please tell me you’re there!”

With a snort, Colin cut the voice off and buzzed them in. And in roughly a minute (an impressive feat considering that Eloise lived on the fifth floor), he saw a bouncing bit of red hair through the peephole and opened the door.

“Thank God, I really need-” Penelope froze mid-step in the frame as her eyes traveled up to reach Colin’s face. For a moment, she just stared, her mouth parted open. And then she swallowed and gave a quick shake of the head.

With a slightly forced smile, she nodded and swept past him, looking around as she went towards the sitting room. “Is Eloise in?”

“She’s not,” Colin answered flatly as he casually leaned against the closed door. He kept an impressively blank expression as Penelope haphazardly rifled through Eloise’s desk, roughly blowing a few loose curls out of her face. “Looking for something?”

Penelope either missed or simply ignored the teasing tone as she frantically moved her search to the sofa cushions. “Did she leave her laptop here?”

“Don’t think so. Though I’m not entirely sure- all she told me was to try not to empty her entire fridge.”

Normally, that would have elicited Colin a laugh or an amused smile, but all Penelope did was let out a groan. A groan that bizarrely caused his stomach to flip. He glanced away from her, clearing his throat. ”Erm- but if you need a laptop, I do have mine.”

Penelope looked up at him with such sharpness that it caught him a bit off guard. “You do? Can I borrow it?”

He blinked at her for a moment, but quickly nodded and motioned to his bag near her feet. He’d barely muttered a “Course” before she’d already retrieved and set it on the table.

“Oh, password’s-” Colin balked for a second, his mouth still open. He’d never told anyone his password before, and it felt… Odd. Unnerving to give away such a private piece of information. But Penelope was looking up at him again, eyes huge and slightly feral, antsy fingers hovering over the keys. He rubbed the back of his neck before mumbling, “GregorySux. With an x.”

The tips of Penelope’s fingers froze as the corner of her mouth twitched, but she bit her lip as she looked down to type.

“He kept hacking into it,” Colin said in an attempt to justify himself.

She seemed so focused on the screen that he thought she hadn’t heard him, but, almost absentmindedly, Penelope said, “Don’t think it’s hacking if your password is literally Password.”

He gaped at her. “I can’t believe Eloise told you!”

This time, Penelope just shrugged in response, her attention completely taken away. The only sounds that filled the room were those of her lightning-quick typing.

He stood there for a moment, feeling uncharacteristically awkward as he watched her fingers work. And then he cracked his neck before nodding. “Right, I’ll give you a minute…”

And as he reached Eloise’s toilet, it occurred to Colin he’d never before been alone with Penelope- not really. He’d known the girl for over a decade, but they’d never really been friends. They were friendly and had spent a decent amount of time together, but there’d never been a real closeness, definitely not one where they could spend a casual afternoon hanging out.

But Colin had never had trouble with finding the right words to say, so it shouldn’t be different with Penelope, right?

He’d asked her about work- that was safe. And maybe how her recent trip with Eloise and Frannie had been- also another safe topic. After that, it’d be no trouble.

But when he reentered the hallway, Colin immediately noticed how quiet it had suddenly gotten- the air completely absent of any hasty typing. Silently, he peered inside the sitting room.

Penelope was still hunched over his laptop, her mouth parted slightly as she stared at the screen. The only movement of her hands was to scroll, but her eyes were running across the screen at an inhuman speed. He watched her for a moment, the corner of his mouth rising unconsciously as her lips mouthed a few words.

He felt intrigued.

Not intrigued by her- of course. But rather intrigued by what had entranced her so much that she couldn’t dare peel her eyes from the computer.

She didn’t react as he crept behind her, looking over her shoulder to see the screen. The brightness was a bit lowered, but he could see a Word document. He leaned a bit closer, eyes squinting as he read a random line.

Imagine you’re at a party, feeling weightless and invincible-

Wait- he recognized those words.

Colin’s eyes flew to the title of the page, which very clearly read, Italy, 09/03/19.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Penelope yelped at the sudden noise, turning her head so quickly that her forehead made contact with Colin’s nose.

“OW!”

And that was how it had all started. A frantic Penelope, a trip to the toilet, an accidentally minimized Word document, and a (luckily) not broken nose.

He’d been angry at first… Well, really, he’d been fairly livid about the entire thing. Not because he was necessarily mad at Penelope, who had accidentally opened the tab initially, but rather because he felt… Embarrassed. It was embarrassing having one’s little sister’s best friend accidentally come across their greatest secret.

But even though he wanted to forget and pretend it all had never happened, Penelope had been unrelenting. After an assurance that what she read had been good, she’d practically demanded that he let her read through the rest of his work.

And now, weeks later, here they were sitting next to each other at his kitchen table, two cups of tea and a printed-out version of his journal laid out in front of them.

“What was it you were trying to say here?” Penelope asked, her eyes rolling over a highlighted section of an Australia entry.

He looked down at the page, following where her finger rested. Instantly, he felt himself flush a bit. She was pointing out a particularly convoluted metaphor he’d written, one likening the magnificent sunset to the familiarity of reading one’s favorite childhood book for the first time as an adult.

“Erm…” He cringed, unable to say anything else.

It was still so odd- the not knowing what to say. Colin Bridgerton wasn’t someone who ever had trouble figuring out his words, and yet… And yet having Penelope had that effect on him. Or, more likely, having Penelope inspect his work, dissecting every word that had ever come out of his brain, make him feel insecure in a way he never was.

It wasn’t so much that it was Penelope, of course. She was his sister’s best friend, a woman he’d known since they were barely grown. It would have been like that if anyone else had seen his work, he was sure of it.

But even still- he found himself staring at a rogue curl on her cheek, his hand twitching to reach up and tuck it away.

“Colin?” Penelope interrupted his roaming thoughts, abruptly looking up at him. Her lips pinched together once she saw his expression, pulling themselves down into a small frown. “Colin,” she repeated in a softer voice. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were a fantastic writer. It’s just that everyone needs a little editing- even the best of us.”

His head tilted slightly as he looked at her, suddenly caught on her use of the word, us. “Do you write a lot then?”

Penelope’s lips slowly formed a smile as she looked at him, a hint of hesitation on her face. She sighed, taking a moment. “Well, actually-” But then she cut herself off, suddenly resembling the same shy Penelope he hadn’t seen in years.

Colin found himself leaning in, putting both arms on the table in front of them, desperate to hear the end of whatever she’d wanted to say. He could feel his knee bumping into hers, but neither of them moved. “What?” he prompted, surprised to hear how faint his voice was. There was something about the moment that was making it rather difficult to breathe.

Penelope was looking back at him with an intensity, mouth slightly parted as she licked her lips reflexively. There was nothing inherently seductive about the movement, but- But something about the way her tongue flicked out made Colin’s stomach clench uncomfortably.

“Uhm,” she whispered, only hearing the loud beating of her heart. No one knew about her secret, other than her editor. And it would surely be a disaster if anyone ever found out …

But she had found out about Colin’s secret, albeit by accident. It felt only right that he should know hers as well…

But if she were being truly honest, she didn’t care very much about her secret at that present moment. Not when the two green eyes she had spent her entire adolescence (and much of her early adulthood) pining over were staring directly at her, looking as though they could see through her entire soul.

Every breath was an effort, every movement was the most difficult task in history. The spot where their knees were still gently pressed against each other felt like it was on fire, spreading itself across her body. She’d been in so much shock when the contact had happened that she hadn’t moved away. And then she’d been astonished when he hadn’t either.

Penelope couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about, and it almost appeared that Colin… That Colin shared the same sentiment.

It felt like she was dreaming. Somehow, he was staring at her with just as much intensity as she was to him. She wasn’t sure if anyone had… She was quite certain that no one had ever looked at her like that.

Colin swallowed as he stared at her, taking in every freckle spread across her nose and every loose curl surrounding her face. He could see her eyes clearly for perhaps the first time in his life- a beautiful shade of warm brown with golden flecks throughout the iris. And then his eyes unwillingly moved, flickering to her lips as she licked them again, causing his gut to wrench painfully.

And then he realized that his hands on the table were so close to her own, the one still resting on his forgotten journal excerpt.

Almost without meaning to, his pinky twitched, moving just enough to meet hers. His breath hitched as he looked back up to meet her gaze.

Neither of them moved, as if moving would break something fragile. As if moving would forcibly tear them from the moment they were.

But then- he wasn’t sure how long- Penelope’s soft eyes left his, darting down to rest on their touching fingers. And then her eyes widened, and her entire body jerked backward, and suddenly Colin’s knee was incredibly cold.

Her chair made a loud scraping noise against the floor as she jumped up, startling him out of the hold he’d been under. “Pen-?”

“It’s getting a bit late,” Penelope muttered through a quick breath, quickly stashing away her belongings. “I’ll finish this at home, and we can meet another time to discuss it. Maybe coffee- next week.”

Colin frowned, getting out of his seat, and taking a few steps towards her. Quietly, he said, “Or you could stay here?”

Penelope froze for a moment before slowly retrieving her keys, gaze firmly locked onto the ground. All he could see were her eyelashes as she blinked.

He bent down slightly and reached out to lift her chin. “Or you could stay here,” he repeated with a bit more reverence in his voice. “We could get some dinner and- talk.”

Penelope swallowed as her eyes rested on his face for a fraction of a moment, but soon enough, she pulled away again. Her fingers trembled as she draped the bag over her shoulder, shaking her head as she looked towards the door. “Erm, no, sorry. I really- really need to go, Colin.”

And then she all but sprinted from the flat, leaving a speechless Colin Bridgerton behind.

#polinweek #polinweek2021 #polin #bridgerton fic #my fic #this is my first posted modern polin #I have another one coming at the end of this crazy week #hope you like this though!#also I'm sorry this took weeks I hope that's okay #polinanon #ugh can you tell polin week is killing me #because it is

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liviusofpella · 3 years

Text

a great combination of fluff, smut, and angst: NSFW(ish) ABC

pairing: Tyril x human!MC (Selene)

word count: 4600

warnings: NSFW

an: nsfw alphabet template by this lovely soul with the slightest change

tag list: @brycesgirl @tyrils-star @lxdy-starfury @rysdumortain

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)Except for being exhausted, Selene is vulnerable, on full display for Tyril (quite literally), and a bit emotional. That’s actually when Tyril and her have the most personal, heart-to-heart conversations.“I met with Deryth today.”Tyril propped his head on his hand while lying on his side and looked down at his lover, carefully covering her naked body with duvet. His hand then rested on Selene’s hip where his fingers stroked the delicate skin.

Several weeks earlier, during a family dinner, Tyril’s father pointed out that ever since Selene and Tyril came back from Whitetower, he could sense a powerful, ancient energy from her. Adrina immediately agreed and encouraged Selene to meet with Undermount’s walking encyclopaedia/prophet/generally the one with no official title but the go-to lady when there’s any kind of trouble. Although Tyril made no remarks that evening, he agreed with his family. Ever since Selene their battle with the Shadow Court, since she wielded the Blade of Light and was able to open portals, he felt that something... unlocked. Something clicked into place.

“What did she say?”

“A lot of unsettling things, actually,” Selene bit her lip gently and turned to lie on her back. With her eyes set on the dark ceiling, she continued. “But also... nothing concrete. She said she’s been expecting me since I set foot in Undermount because she could feel my magic. She also admitted the same thing your father said.”

Tyril’s hand slowly wandered up her body to eventually rest flat on the blonde’s stomach, his finger outlining a faint scar on her abdomen.

“She confirmed that a war is coming, and I’m going to play a pivotal part in it but this time I might not... make it through.”

The elf’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What ar-“

“But it’s not anything I wouldn’t know for a few weeks now,” she interrupted. “I think... she just confirmed my worries. I could still play dumb when those were just my dreams but now... I don’t know, Tyril. I don’t think I’m strong enough to go through something like this again.”

“We’ll be right by your side, Selene,” he responded immediately, his gaze burning a hole in her face.

“I know, love,” she cupped his cheek in her palm and smiled faintly. “That’s exactly what worries me the most.”

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Tyril’s an absolute boobies-guy. The amount of time this man has spent on one-on-one meetings with Selene’s cleavage would make him the greatest warrior in the history had he spent it on trainings. Even (or rather especially) when they’re already going to sleep, his hand finds its way under Selene’s shirt where it rests throughout the night.

As for Selene... she couldn’t have possibly picked her favourite part of him. She adores every. single. body part of this man.

Due to her constant reminders of how much she loves his body and all the differences between the two of them, Tyril’s outlook on himself changed. He didn’t exactly begin to look out for himself when there were blades involved as she asked him, but he did want to look good for her. And himself. But mostly for her, although she started working on improving his way of thinking.

However, she does have a soft spot for his muscular back covered with several very old scars. She loves giving him a proper massage after a long day and placing kisses from one shoulder blade to another. But what she loves the most is watching his back as it’s covered with long deep-blue, purple, half-noon shaped and sometimes bloody marks that her fingernails leave.

C = Choking (basically an addition to Kink)

“I’m not sure about this, Selene,” he admitted, warring with himself whether to do what do asked and literally choke her or to simply refuse. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me. People do that, and they’re fine,” Tyril raised his brow, looking at her, all flushed, her hair a mess, a few finger-shaped bruises on her hips, and biting her kiss-swollen lips. “I’ve read that in a book.”

“Did you?”

“Just trust me,” she chuckled, turning to lean against a drawer and swayed her hips invitingly against him, basically impaling herself with his cock for the fifth time this evening.

He still wasn’t sold on this idea but Selene was so sure this would work he was willing to give it a try. However, the second an obscene moan left her lips after a rather hard and smooth thrust, all his inhibitions were forgotten.

Selene guided his hand from her breast to her neck, forcing him to put some pressure there, and he happily obeyed. Selene was like clay in his hands, always happy to fulfil his every wish and always making sure he felt at least as good as her. That night, he wanted to fulfil one of her wishes, however strange it seemed to him.

He pinned her hips to the cold wood with his, fucking her mercilessly as his free hand worked on her bud, leaving her a moaning mess within seconds. Just as his lips busied themselves with her shoulder, guided by her reactions he put some real pressure on her throat, careful not to hurt her.

“This is the last time we are doing this,” he concluded a minute later, holding a panting and somewhat cheery Selene in his arms.

“You’re no fun.”

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Tyril would never admit this out loud, especially to Selene, who’s known as one of the biggest gossip in the whole Morella and an even bigger tease, but for a rather short amount of time he was very jealous of Mal (actually, scratch that, he sometime still is), his light approach to life and his relationship with Selene. The way he could joke about everything and tease the hell out of her while Tyril himself was overcome with guilt and anger. When his sole mission was destroying every single piece of the Shadow Court, Mal would still find the strength to raise the group's spirits, cheer up and motivate them. The way he would make Selene laugh.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh, Tyril absolutely knows what he’s doing. He often leaves Selene breathless, red, and speechless because he’s that good.

Selene on the other hand... well, she knows a thing or two. She’s a great observer and a quick learner, but she doesn’t exactly have much experience. She happily takes everything Tyril’s willing to show her, though.

“So... I’ve found a book,” Selene stated, blushing a little. Tyril watched her curiously as they sat in a secluded part of the House Starfury’s garden, basking in the early afternoon sun.

“What book?”

Biting her lower lip, Selene began untying her dress, wanting her body to catch as many sun rays as she could until the sunset. She tossed the material aside and rested her head on Tyril’s lap. “Remember the one Mal was so interested in?”

“You mean the one he stole?”

“The one he borrowed,” she chuckled, raising a hand to cover her eyes from the sun. “For an indefinite amount of time.”

“I remember.”

“Well, I found a similar one.”

“Somehow I had a feeling this would happen one day,” the elf concluded, eyeing Selene’s slowly raising chest. “What about it?”

“Oh, please. You know what I mean.”

Of course, he did. But he also so happened to love teasing her.

“We need to work on your communications skills,” he commented, with a barely contained smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she chuckled. “I just thought that we could give it a try. Also, I have a feeling I am really going to enjoy watching you as you read it.”

“I already did.”

“No way,” she grinned and sat up to look at Tyril’s sun-kissed face. “When?”

“I have spent a lot of time in the library and that is all I am going to say on this matter,” Tyril admitted, smirking as his hand rested on the small of her back, his fingers gently stroking the hot skin. “If you are so eager, I believe we can start our little experiment early.”

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Against the window. Against the drawer. Against the door if they’re feeling risky. Honestly, even a boulder in the middle of the woods would do if it was big enough to lean Selene against it and fuck her from behind.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous?)

Due to Selene being a massive tease, they usually share a laugh or two during their bedroom playtime. Though there was also that one time...

“I am not ticklish,” Selene assured, sliding her hands up and down his muscular back. Tyril smirked, a devilish plan already forming in his mind, and

“I am afraid I will have to check that.”

“I see you have a death wish, Lord Tyril,” she teased, narrowing her eyes. “And since we both know I’m a much better warrior...”

The elf chuckled and raised his head from between her legs to admire the purple chain of love bites along her stomach. Set on not begging just yet, Selene bit her lower lip and watched her lover delightedly until she realized what he had planned.

“I’m willing to take my chances.”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

Honestly, I find it really hard to believe that the elves grow hair anywhere except for their heads.... I mean, they don’t even grow beards....... Therefore, elf boy is smooth as a baby. Not that Selene minds. Nothing obstructs the view, right?

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Tyril knows that one way to make Selene aroused is dancing. She takes full advantage of how incredible a dancer Tyril is. She adores the fact that he’s willing to patiently teach her everything about his culture, which includes dancing.

“I actually practised this one,” Selene admitted, looking deep into the elf’s blue eyes. Tyril’s left hand slipped down just above her butt, pushing her towards him, leaving absolutely no space between their bodies.

“You have?”

“With your father,” she giggled, seeing the shadow of jealousy on her lover’s face. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Colour me surprised and impressed, then,” he smiled. The hand that’s been resting on Tyril’s back moved up to the side of his neck to pull his face closer.

“Since I’ve mastered this dance, I think we can already proceed with our activities,” she whispered against his lips. “I already got a head start.”

“I can see that,” Tyril smirked as he realized the only thing covering Selene’s body was a thin, white nightgown and definitely no underwear.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

The first week without Selene by his side was tough but the second week? On the 9th day, Tyril seriously considered moving to Riverbend forever just so he wouldn’t have to wake up alone ever again. This being said, the vision of seeing her in a few months was... depressing.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you something to remember me by,” Selene smiled flirtatiously, making herself comfortable on his lap. Having freed his left hand of a book, she guided it to her waist and then higher, and higher until it reached his favourite plaything covered with a thin, lacy material.

Seeing that the strained smile fell of her face as she watched him carefully, Tyril sighed quietly. “I know.”

“No,” she protested immediately and brushed a strand of his hair behind his ear, stroking his cheek while doing so. “Quit glooming. This is supposed to be a good memory.”

He didn’t want her to leave. Not now. Not ever. But they’ve had that conversations many times now, and it wasn’t fair to try to change her mind again as she was clearly set on seeing her brother and taking a well-deserved break from Undermount. Not that he would be able to convince her to stay. She’s too damn stubborn.

“It’s our last night together for some time, love,” she whispered. “Take what you need. Remember me like this.”

Tyril’s hand slowly wandered up her thigh, trying to imprint the feeling of her soft skin in his memory. Trying to remember her taste, her scent, everything about her. Because when it came to Selene, he was greedy. He wanted to know everything about this woman, to know her every thought, every worry. He wanted to be the only who knows her taste and makes her make such sounds.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he begged in between kisses as his warm hands explored her body anew.

“I’m yours, Tyril. Always.”

Remembering how hot her skin felt under his palms, those sweet sounds she would make, and the way she called herself his over and over and over again with no hesitation, he would relieve himself to get himself through the day.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Let’s be clear: Selene is the much more extreme one here. She has a choking kink which actually made Tyril consider a lifelong celibacy for a second just so he wouldn’t have to do it to her again. The fact that Tyril is much older also does the trick for her. And much taller.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere. Literally. Except for Tyril’s family’s private chambers, there hasn’t been a surface the two of them hadn’t christened when they were alone.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Tyril would never admit it, but he finds it extremely hot when Selene turns into a sassy/bad-ass/protective mode. He’s caught himself on that the first time after she easily took out one of Imtura’s corrupted pirates. And then when she fought like a maniac with the corrupted Captain, already using magic as easily as she’d been doing that since the day she was born and swinging her sword like it was her hand.

Selene is actually a sucker for some romanticism.

She would usually come home much earlier than Tyril, which had its pros and cons. The good side was that she had time to think, to write to Kade, and to just unwind. One of the biggest cons was the fact that she had to wait many hours into the night waiting for her man after a long day and – let’s just say – she was very excited. She categorically refused to touch herself, therefore, she was sentenced for waiting, wriggling in a chair, doing some stupid breathing exercises.

It was a quarter after midnight when she felt his familiar hands embrace her from behind and his warm lips already leaving wet kisses on her bare shoulder up to her neck.

A gasp, followed by a surprised moan left her lips when Tyril’s lips started leaving red marks on its way and his hand quickly made it inside her panties. Scratch the romanticism. After a whole long day she didn’t actually need it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Tyril would never do anything to physically hurt her even if she asked – the choking she once asked for was the only thing he agreed to do and he swore to never do it again.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill)

To Selene’s delight, Tyril loves going down on her. For his own pleasure. He’s also become quite fond of getting quick blowjobs in the middle of the day. In the middle of the city. In a fairly secluded area. Or inconspicuous handjobs under the table during parties.

Selene’s hand was stroking Tyril under the table, as they watched most of the guests dancing around the ballroom.

“Are you sure there’s no room that we could escape to for a minute?” Selene muttered, playfully stroking his tip with her thumb and watching him clench his jaw and take deep breaths.

“If there was such option, we would be there for the last few minutes already.”

She grinned hearing the struggle in his hushed voice and put more pressure on him, motivating him for a bit quicker finale this time as the song was slowly drawing to an end. The elf swallowed hard, watching as she reached for her champagne glass with her free hand. After she’s taken a small sip, she leaned over and kissed the red-cheeked man, drinking his quiet pants off his lips. Selene grinned through their kiss, feeling some wet, sticky substance in her palm.

“It’s a bit hot in here, isn’t it?”

Adrina smiled as she sat across her brother with an elegant elf by her side. Selene smiled back at the beautiful woman and took another sip of her champagne. “It is indeed.”

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Unless they’re short on time, they’re slow and sensual. Tyril takes his sweet time making sure not to skip any part of her body, driving her crazy at the same time. He pays special care to Selene’s scars, remembering how insecure they make her feel.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often)

“We have about five minutes before Adrina comes in here,” Selene mumbled and bit her lip to muffle the moans that threatened to leave her mouth. Tyril’s lips worked tirelessly on her neck as his hips slammed into hers.

“That’s plenty of time,” he smirked, pulling her butt towards the edge of a counter he sat her on. Selene wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, making sure he stays right where he is. “Although if you’d like me to stop-“

“Don’t you dare.”

Tyril’s right hand slipped between her legs, his nimble fingers irritating her soft spot expertly, just as his lips caught hers to muffle her moans.

They froze immediately when a soft knocking on the door followed by Adrina’s sweet voice reverberated in the room. Panicked, Selene pushed Tyril and jumped off the furniture, hurriedly smoothing her hair and fixing her dress. Tyril did the same, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the terrified look on her face.

“Imagine if she opened the door,” Selene whispered, helping Tyril smooth his dishevelled hair.

“We wouldn’t scare her for lifetime, if that’s what you worry about,” he chuckled.

“It’s not her I worry about, it’s me! I could never look her in the face again!”

Tyril snorted and leaned over the balcony door nonchalantly, amusedly observing Selene as she opened the door and greeted his sister.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

Not at first, no. However, the farther they are in the relationship, the more Tyril begins to succumb to Selene’s ideas of quickies in public places and trying out some positions from the notorious book.

“It feels wrong, Selene.”

Selene looked up to see his flushed face, and took him out of her mouth for a second.

“Oh, so I can just walk out right now?”

The elf’s Adam apple moved slowly up and down as he swallowed and bit his lower lip. “I’d rather you don’t.”

“Then shut up.”

Tyril’s hand involuntarily slipped down to Selene’s hair, guiding her not-so-gently, and he quickly looked around the secluded library row to make sure they’re still alone.

He gripped the bookshelf with one hand just as he was almost there and glanced down on Selene who watched him intently with her beautiful blue eyes. With his chest heaving and tensed stomach muscles, Tyril grit his teeth not to make any noise when he came.

Selene grinned as she pulled his pants back up and stood up to place a tender kiss to the elf’s under jaw. “One could think you kind of liked it.”

Tyril brushed the loose strands of hair out of her face and stroked her cheek with his knuckles.

“I wouldn’t mind repeating this in the future.”

Chuckling, Selene stood on her tiptoes and kissed her man, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“No bodily fluids exchange in my library, kids.”

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Tyril Starfury doesn’t go for rounds. Tyril Starfury goes for proper sessions, no matter the time of the day, although he has a soft spot for the morning shifts.

T = Timid

Tyril’s anything but timid. The fact that he was willing to fuck in front of the whole city of Whitetower? Yes, there we go. Over time, he doesn’t even pay much attention to hiding his feelings for Selene from his family. Or the elves of Undermount. *cough* handjobs during parties *cough*

Selene on the other hand learns to be more confident. Tyril quite quickly learned that the teasing is just... a ruse. But with time and endless assurance from her man of his love and devotion, she learns to ask for what she wants.

U = Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Oh, Selene is the greatest teaser. There’s nothing in this world that makes her happier than watching Tyril flush because of her dirty comments, lose his composure, and get boners in the most inappropriate moments.

She loves to distract him as he’s reading the council’s newest proposals by sitting half naked on his desk, sneakingly squeezing his butt as he’s talking with the heads of other houses during balls, and leaving juicy love bites on his neck before they go out to the town. In this way she gets to hear him moaning before noon, and she marks her territory, letting other women know he’s taken. Two birds, one stone, right?

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc)

Tyril makes it his priority to get Selene as loud as humanly possible when they’re alone. Unless they’re in a public place for a stealthy quickie, then he does just enough to make her almost-as-loud-as-possible. He loves seeing her struggling to stay quiet, he loves teasing her like that, fully knowing she would rather chew off her own tongue than to let a moan escape her lips when they’re in public.

However, it cuts both ways, right? Selene is a mistress of drawing incomprehensible moans from her man, especially in the most inappropriate moments – like during dinner in a bar or in a library. Especially in the library, where they’ve earned a few warnings already.

“Selene, I swear, if we get a permanent ban from the librarian, I will send you back to Riverbend.”

“Feisty,” she chuckled, stroking his calf with her foot under the library table. “Do it more often.”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

“I’m starting to think you’re letting me win,” Selene panted, smirking at Tyril whom she had pressed against a wall, with the tip of her blade an inch away from his throat. Tyril raised his hands defiantly, smirking at her.

“I would never do such thing.”

“Then I believe I have surpassed my master.”

Selene lowered the blade slowly and let it fall to the ground when Tyril’s strong arms wrapped tightly around her and picked her up to slam her against the wall. “You did indeed. Therefore, I believe I deserve a consolation prize.”

“We wouldn’t want you to go into pieces, would we?” she chuckled, pulling him close to crash her lips against his. They still had a few alone minutes left and like always they were more than willing to spend it a bit nicer than on pointing blades at each other.

Selene was also more than happy to use the fact that their trainings excited him to her advantage. “Are you certain you want to stay here? Someone will come-”

“Too bad for them, then.”

“I’m really liking this side of you,” she grinned and tangled a hand in his long hair as his lips sucked hard at the skin on her collarbone.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A solid (and a bit scarred) six-pack and a thick, definitely-above-average package. If it was up the Selene, he would walk around Morella naked.

“What about this one?” she asked, kissing a long, purplish scar under his ribcage.

“Kaya.”

“It’s been over a year,” her brows furrowed a bit. “It still hasn’t healed?”

“Magic wounds take longer to heal.”

Selene nodded, and watched his face while placing tiny, tender kisses along the scar. “You have quite the collection, I must admit.”

Tyril chuckled.

“This is the last one,” he pointed to a rather deep scar on his left hip. “No distressful story behind this one.”

“For once,” she grinned. “Is this the one Mal gave you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s my favourite one.”

“It better be, I have it because of you,” he smirked, brushing the hair out of her face.

“You have it because you love me, and you wanted to defend my honour. I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Touche.”

Placing a series of wet kisses down his abdomen, Selene wrapped her hand around him, already hard and waiting for her touch, drawing a surprised gasp from the elf. “Though I believe you deserve some acknowledgement for your courageous defence of my honour.”

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Tyril is a young, handsome elf, who happens to be the love interest of many, and have a gorgeous woman by his side. Of course, he’s horny as hell. As much as he’s trying to hide it, Selene knows exactly what and how often he needs, as it happens to be her.

“Not again,” Selene giggled, feeling something hard on her thigh. She slid her thumb over Tyril’s kiss-swollen lips, admiring how soft they are. “I would like to come out of this room eventually.”

“I’m afraid this is not going to happen today,” he chuckled as Selene pushed him to lie on his back and straddled him, taking him all in.

The sun was slowly descending, and they haven’t left their bed ever since they woke up this morning.

Tyril marvelled at how the orange sun kissed her pale skin, how beautiful she looked blush-glazed cheeks, and even at how eager she was to go for another round even though the tiredness was evident on her face.

“Selene, no.”

“Come on,” she sighed as he took his hand away from her neck where she guided it. “We’ve talked about this.”

“And as far as I recall I told you I am not going to do this ever again.”

“Fine.”

Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

“I love you.”

A small smile crept up upon Tyril’s lips, and he subconsciously wrapped his arm around Selene’s body. He muttered something back, slowly drifting back to sleep. Knowing Tyril, Selene just assumed it was either “Love you too” or “I know.” A soft smile appeared on her lips as she felt his steady heartbeat on her back. Tyril would usually fall asleep first, hugging her so tight she sometimes had problems breathing.

Once she was certain Tyril had fallen asleep, she turned around to look at his peaceful face and was surprised to see a faint of a sleepy smile in the corners of his lips. “Don’t ever forget that,” she whispered, placing a featherlight kiss between his brows.

#tyril starfury #blades of light and shadow #choices blades #tyril x mc #tyril fic #the quintessence of my writing lmao smut fluff and angst(ish)#while writing this i might've motivated myself and i WILL be writing some additional fics with the use of those ideas #also i have no clue how tf the spacing in tumblr posts works so if there are weird looking space IM SORRY I TRIED MY BEST

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