#also this may be unrelated but i love when people touch my hair (only people i like) like being told oh i love your hair or like your hair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall · 3 years

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The Odd Rumble of Thunder - Thor x Reader

(A/N)

Hey guys! I wanted to personally thank you all for the kind comments and messages, they really inspire me to continue writing more and the support truly means a lot! Also, I just found out how to access post replies, I apologize I haven’t gotten to reading them since my first story, I’m still trying to figure out the gist of things here on Tumblr! Anyways, recently I’d only been posting more on Poseidon, so here’s a special one for our Norse god of thunder (aka the god I simp for the most). This idea came to me while out on a camping trip, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback would really be welcomed and appreciated!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Odd Rumble of Thunder

Thor x Reader

Even before the news spread like wildfire, Thor had become under the tyranny of a good habit to bringing his wife with him wherever he may go. It stood to reason that he would never be so careless to invite you over to danger, hence why, at a god’s ephemeral notice, he had stopped seeking direction for his combative side, but when, at last, he had to venture, he made much quicker work of it than when he would have otherwise.

Inarguably, if you’d wanted to lay down and rest instead, it was a surety you’d receive your meals in bed, unbothered. But for Thor there was no guarantee he’d ever have to worry about you, so the whole of Asgard knew by now he’d drop whatever he was doing to accompany you, uncaring about diplomacy in the first place.

Not that Odin nor Loki minded either; especially since the Allfather knew more about the concerns of a father expecting their first child. Moreover, Loki enjoyed shapeshifting into his cousin during days he was absent. It was much more fun to cause mischief legally, as he would say.

Today, Thor stood by his wife who sat comfortably in her rocking chair on the porch, allowing a full view of the hills that sloped gently down to the grand gardens. You were seven months along, approaching the eight month, the swell of your stomach now far more prominent.

At the very moment you had begun to show, you had a companion of whom would almost never leave your side, your husband’s absence in the kingdom gradually becoming more frequent, more lengthened, till at last his presence among his people became an exception. Despite your constant reassurances that you would be fine, Thor insisted on staying, casually sweeping aside your thoughts regarding his habitual sense of duty.

“I would only be gone for nine months to tend to my wife and child, they should fare well on their own lest they are more incompetent than I would’ve thought.” Thor had told you once before, and you’d decided not to question him further on that. You understood your husband’s concerns, to be truthful, you had a few of your own as well, so having Thor assist you alleviated some of the stress and worry concerning your child’s safety.

Especially now that you were nearing your due date. For instance, you were having the toughest time moving, suffering primarily from the weight in your belly and pains in your back and legs that made walking and even standing difficult. What made the physical strain worse too was your child’s eagerness to know you and Thor both, unable to stay long in one position, much like their father’s enthusiasm for battle.

“How are you feeling?” Thor’s question rested upon a rather precise calculation of the last time he had asked the same only a short moment before. It was quite visible in his actions that he did not want to cause any negative feelings if he could help it, though desiring you to avoid stress as much as possible.

You smiled. “Come close. You’ve been standing there for ages just ogling at me.” You opened your arms out wide. “Are you not tired?”

Truth be told, despite Thor’s constant need to remain close to his wife, he felt a real, undeniable fear of touching you, specifically, your abdomen. He closed the distance between until he was right in front of you, staring down at you with hard eyes. Longing leaped like a flame reaching out in his celestial yellow orbs.

“Love, I am always grateful for your concern for me. And I am feeling much better just knowing you’re beside me.” You raised yourself up, pushing against the chair to try to stand. Thor rushed forward, held you then put his hands under your arms to lift you up. Your child was growing fast. “But how about you? How are you feeling?”

You inched closer, your fingers playing with the locks of his hair that you could reach. “Aside from the stress of waiting, I’ve noticed that you have something else weighing on your mind.

“Tell me, what is it?”

At the sight of you through his warworn eyes, his mind was filled with bliss. For that loving glance of yours, he felt a divine presence and holy atmosphere that seemed to pervade everything around you. Having an inkling of what you were hinting at though, he broke your gaze, in an attempt to avert the guilt you conferred on him.

“Please. We’re in this together, I would want nothing more than to help you back as much as you’ve helped me.” Thor felt you shift in his arms, get more comfortable. He felt the bulk of your child across his legs, the weight no doubt pulling you down. Seeing you in pain like that, was sad and unbearable, and the gnawing feeling grew stronger. And since he knew you were always so full of strength and determination, always unrelenting in your attempts to make him feel better, he began,

“I am afraid.” Red eyebrows drew together.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I might accidentally hurt you and our child,” Thor took a deep breath in then let it out in a sigh while taking a step back. “I do not want that to happen, even if I want to be at your side at all times. And this frustrates me to no end.”

Thor did himself a favor by giving attention to anything other than his wife, refusing to be a witness on the sadness and any he may have caused. Dealing with his own disappointment was nothing new, but he had trouble dealing with the fact that he was the cause of yourpain. He wished he could take his troubles which escaped, hanging in the air, and all the bad feelings on himself and let things continue as they were, but he knew it didn’t work that way. You needed to know that he only wanted you and your child safe and protected, even from himself.

He could not understand how the cosmos could play such a cruel joke on the both of you: you, bore so much pain because of one of the greatest affairs of life, and him, the strongest deity in the Pantheon, was powerless against the natural laws of existence.

Strong shoulders slumped, head bowing as stray strands of red hair fell over Thor’s brow. Not again. He did not wish to be reminded of the cautious sympathy his father and cousin had approached him with. His stomach lurched whenever the subject of your frailty came up. Dread and a terrifying fear overwhelmed his soul for the first time, the thought of losing you−

“Hey,” Your voice which lingered on the gentle breeze brushed against Thor’s face, pulling him out of his stupor. He refocused, turning his gaze onto your sweet face.

How were you able to hold yourself up well despite your obvious pain and suffering? Did you not bear the same nervousness as he did? The answer was obvious, practically screaming in Thor’s ears but became deaf following his guilt and clouded instincts. For a long time since you’d first told him about the news, he bore these worries in silence; but when at length he’d been perplexed by your introspection−or seeming lack of it. Why, in fact, did you concern yourself with him at all? Compared to you, there was hardly any threat to his own life posed. Why had you always done more to make him feel better when you were the one who needed it most?

Cutting through the haze he found himself in was the shape of you, or maybe your hair billowing in the wind, a wisp of it across your face, and then suddenly the feel of your skin, the sense of your head on his chest. Even if it were fleeting, that alone brought him the possibilities of comfort that he’d so needed. Oh, how he missed this; you cupped his big callously marble hands around yours, caressing them so tenderly, as if he were fragile and might break, so short it could never be pulled back.

As he relished the warmth of the blaze you gave him for the winter of unease, he’d realized much sooner that the coldness that inched its icy fingers up his spine still threatened to battle your kind words, you, his very own wife, and he detested himself for being unsure whether or not it was of his own doing; was he pushing you away when you’d only wanted to offer your help?

Thor’s immediate impulse was to pull back from you, abruptly halted by your fingers which slipped between his now splayed hand. You wrinkled your nose in a delightfully unguarded manner that caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Do you remember the first time we said our vows?” If only you knew the way Thor perceived you: in his eyes, your radiant smile reflected the morning sunlight of Valhalla, for a split second picturing the moment you’d walked down the aisle, that headpiece on your head instantiating the paradox of mystery that once lifted revealed your beautiful face, marking it the best day of his long life. Something warm bloomed in his chest once again and spread its heat out through every vein in his body. He remembered the smooth feel of the veil against his cheek after sealing your promise with a kiss, his lips parting with a breathless sigh.

“Your hands caressed my fit of nerves with light, tender touches and then inspired me with hard, passionate embraces,” With effortless ease, you lifted your intertwined hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckle. Thor watched with great admiration your every move, the desire to distance himself was now but an afterthought. Nothing would ever separate him from you when all you’d ever done was pull him closer than ever.

Then, you sought out his hand, kissing his palm as he stroked your face. You clung onto his arms, gripped at his chest as if you were searching for warmth, as if you needed his touch, and much like him, couldn’t bear to be even an inch away. His mind was still slowing its racing to let him mutter something in response, so he allowed himself to be entranced by how smooth and sure of yourself you were, with nothing to mar the calm serenity of your features. Your smile seemed to be a natural adornment, the utter gentleness in your eyes, reminded him of every morning when he woke up, he would see you by his side, as well as your sleeping snoring face. Right at that moment, the silly scream finally made it to the deaf god’s ears:

He was your haven,

The place you called home and went to find peace.

As Thor immersed himself in your smell, your sparkling eyes, he felt the excruciating cold all melt away in your warmth. No more seeds of doubt with which to sow and seek his destiny. Slowly, he began to see his surroundings from a keener point of view, realizing, then appraising them: from the passing wind your hair messed which he pushed aside, tucking it behind your ear, to how his sash seemed to fit him better indeed, rather than cling onto his skin even tighter as brutally as it had done before. He noticed the minute changes since he’d last taken a good look at you months ago: a little flusher on your skin, lines around the eyes a little deeper, a little increase in body temperature.

He pulled you closer, his actions not arising from calculation instead led by instinct. You let him take more of your weight, your belly pressed against his stomach as you sighed, his fingers working wonders on massaging the muscles that had been much abused in carrying the baby’s weight. A sudden wrenching through his sash struck Thor’s heart and had him holding his breath.

The baby had moved, and he’d felt it.

Bending down, he buried his nose in your hair, closing his eyes as he drank in your scent. Your arms wrapped around his back as he connected in this loving embrace, feeling his heart beat in rhythm with your own.

“Our child would no doubt love to be enveloped in their father’s safe arms,” With a light, gentle touch, your fingers ran through Thor’s hair, making him shiver with delight.

On that day, only the beautiful gardens of Asgard became privy to nothing more than a moment in which husband and wife reached for the same comfort and their concerns met. These gardens were simultaneously the very same place where Thor had first avoided the problems that plagued his mind, but also became exactly the same place where he’d find solace in the arms of his lovely wife.

Resting his hand on where his child was, he recognized that familiar feeling turning up, but upon realizing the bittersweet irony of and within these gardens, the revelation came to him: happiness could also come from the very object of fear.

And as you had an unmovable trust in him, there was an unspoken mutual understanding that he too, should put his trust in you.

#snv x reader #snv thor #snv thor x reader #thor x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok thor x reader

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baecvlt · 3 years

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Stalker Nagito Komaeda x Milf!Reader

this was requested via my twitter:

“Hey! i’ve seen your works and I’m in love. Can I request smut where a stalker Nagito Komaeda becomes obsessed with a milf reader who moves into the neighborhood who’s like a dom in bed and ya know just large bust and taller than him. Thank youuu🤍”

a/n: ofc. but I have my own idea of a dom which i’ll use involving certain things (heed warnings)

warnings: he is so obviously a virgin in this, degradation, slight masochism, asphyxiation, spit, also Nagito calls the reader mommy (side note: nagito is in his early 20s in this, he lives alone. age of reader isn’t specified BUT I say she’s in her late 20s/early 30s)

• • •

It was a bright day...which Nagito despised. It was summer. He hated the sun, hated the mosquitoes, and the unnecessary humidity. It was days like these he wishes he was back at his university dorm. The A/C, the tall tree covering his window and blocking the sun...it was perfect. Hell, he didn’t even hate classes. Yet, he couldn’t live in the dorms forever. When it came time to buy a home, he stupidly did so in fall, moved in during the winter.

Well, no shit the home seemed perfect then. It wasn’t fucking summer. His A/C decided to break, his windows has a great view of the sun, and most of his friends were out of town (all except Hajime, but Hajime is fucking boring and a bummer). Nagito sat on his couch, watching reruns of old tv shows. He took a sip from his nearby glass (cold water), suddenly hearing sounds of what appeared to be a loading van. He looked outside his window.

A moving van?

Right, that one old man who lived there passed away. Freak accident, by the way. Oh well, may he rest in peace. Meanwhile, Nagito was being himself and trying to see who it was. Pretty much, the dude was being nosy. He saw another car pull up. That must’ve been the family’s car. Out jumped 3 kids, what appeared to be 2 girls and 1 boy. An adult stepped out. Nagito decided he’d get a better look at the situation. He put on his shirt, black jeans, and his green hood.

He was “going for a walk”.

Without being noticed, he made his way to the other side of the street. It was a woman, she was taking boxes out of the truck. The minute Nagito saw her it was if he was stricken by Cupid’s arrow. She was tall and beautiful. Her skin complimented her hair and her legs, he couldn’t take his eyes off them. Her breasts...he needed to stop—

“Hi!”

She was in front of him, a warm and inviting smile on her face. “H-Hi,” he muttered. She didn’t hear him well, so it helped that he waved. “I’m new in the neighborhood. We just moved in,” she added, putting the box down. She stuck her hand out, going for a handshake. He shook her hand, her warm hand against his cold ones. Why are his hands always cold? “I see,” he responded, getting his shit together,“I’m Nagito Komaeda. I live across the street”. She introduced herself and complimented his house.

“What a lovely home. I hope the neighborhood is just as lovely”

“It should be. It’s pretty quiet. There’s not many families here. Say, can I help you pack?”

“You’re too sweet! I’d really appreciate it”

He helped take all the boxes in her home, helping load a couch too, and help with other large objects. They finished in 9 hours, taking a majority of the day. “Thanks for helping out, Nagito”. She made a lemonade, handing him a glass.

“Don’t mention it! Also, thank you”

One of the kids ran in the living room where they sat on the couch. He gasped when he saw Nagito. “Mommy! That man looks dead!!!”. Nagito smiled, but his mom was not amused. “Michael! Apologize..”. The kid kept smiling and said,“Sorry!”. He ran to another room. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered. Nagito shook his head.

“Hey, I’m rather malnourished”

“Ha. On an unrelated topic, are you hungry? I could make us something”

“Oh, I shouldn’t linger any longer. I wouldn’t want to disturb your husband”

She laughed. “I know you mean no harm, but I’m not married,” she added. “Oh,” Nagito muttered,“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean it in any way”. She shook her head and reassured him it was fine. “Sit, Nagito,” she pulled out a chair,“I’m not letting you refuse having dinner with us. Especially since you were such help”. She rubbed his back before heading back into the kitchen to begin cooking.

She made him a bowl of pasta, adding chicken on the side. Nagito was quite happy. He hadn’t eaten a good meal in so long. Her kids didn’t eat at the table, but on the counter. Meanwhile, she ate with Nagito. Just as Nagito thought he couldn’t grow fonder of her, he did just that. All she did was let him talk about himself.

“Jesus, I’m sorry about your parents? How are you keeping yourself afloat with university and expenses?”

“Academic scholarships”

“Wow, you’re such a smart boy”

The way she phrased it made him flustered. “Thank you for the meal, ma’am,” he muttered,“I haven’t eaten like this in who knows how long”. She smiled tenderly, picking up his empty plate. “Seconds?”. He shook his head.

“No, thank you. I’m already so full”

“I’m glad. You know, there’s always a meal for you in store if you can do me a favor”

“What’s that?”

“My oldest daughter has her final test this week. You think you can help her study? I’ll make you a nice, warm meal every time you come over”

Nagito thought about it. He would also have time around her. Plus, she wasn’t a bad cook. “Of course, I look forward to it,” he told her. “Lovely”. He got up and excused himself to go home. “It was nice having you over, Nagito,” she said softly. He could tell she was getting sleepy. When people are tired, Nagito has noticed that their tone is rather sheepish. She walked him to the door, ruffling his hair playfully and he blushed. “Goodnight, neighbor”.

“Goodnight, you”

Before he left, she stopped him and handed him a paper: (xxx) xxx-xxxx ♡

“Call me when you get home so I have your number saved. Then, I can call you when my daughter, Vanessa, needs help. Take care, okay?”

He nodded.

She closed the door, his thoughts racing on his way home. He picked up some things about her, things she didn’t even tell him. He went home and opened a notebook, writing all of it down. He called her and she answered, her voice as sweet as when he left (only sleepier). “Hello?”. His breath was heavy without realizing it as he spoke. “H-Hey, you told me to call you,” he breathed,“It’s Nagito...Komaeda”

“Oh, hey, angel! I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“What? No, it’s all good— why’d you think so?”

“You sound like you need to catch your breath, but anyway, thanks for calling me. I’ve saved your number now”

“Oh, great! Well, if that’s all, I’ll let you go to bed now”

“It was. Goodnight, Nagito”

“G-Goodnight”

He hung up, flustered more than ever as he continued to jot down his thoughts on paper. The next day, he woke up at 6am to wait in his car. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. At around 7:41am, his front neighbor and kids headed for their car. Nagito, who had taken a light nap in the driver’s seat, was awoken by the car starting. He waited for the car to drive away just slightly past his house to start his own car, slowly tailing behind her.

He dropped her kids off at the nearby elementary. She got off, kissed them on their forehead (all minus the eldest, who walked swiftly through the gates). Seeing how she cared for them made Nagito feel bad, but all he did was brush that feeling off. Next, he followed her through her daily. As he did, his notes from last night echoed through his mind, adding new detail.

“She works at an office not everyday She doesn’t have allergies but is sensitive to dust Red seems to be her favorite color but always in a darker shade Her daughter is around 10 years old She isn’t vegan but enjoys almond milk Maybe has an issues with abandonment but I can’t assume that either She buys many apples but not the same amount of bananas at the store so maybe she only eats the bananas—”

Just more to add to his notebook.

He got home before she did, writing down what he had learned. His phone rang about an hour later of him getting home. He picked it up,“Hello?”. “Nagito, hi!”. It was her. He started having a mini-panic attack, because why would she be calling him? “H-Hey, how are you?”

“I’m doing alright. I was wondering if you could come over and tutor Vanessa”

Oh, thank god.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be down there right now”

“Great. See you then!”

He was relieved, heading to her home happily. He knocked on the door. When she opened it, she did so with the same warm smile as yesterday. “Thank you for coming over,” she said,“She’s in her room”. Nagito nodded, freezing when she grabbed his hand and took him to the room. Her touch was so soft, noted. They got to the room, where a girl was reading a book on a desk. “Nessa?”. The girl turned around.

“Nagito is going to be here for a few hours to help you out with homework and studying. He’s really smart, so pay attention and be respectful”

“Okay, mom”

She nodded, squeezing Nagito’s shoulder before leaving. Nagito approached the girl, she took her things out. Before he could speak, she stopped him. “Please don’t call me ‘Nessa’,” she whispered,“It’s bad enough my mom does, but not you, Please”.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on referring to you at all”

“Bastard”

“Nessa”

“I guess I walked right into that one”

Nagito laughed, grabbing a chair and sitting next to her. Her work wasn’t what he expected. Is this what they’re teaching kids now? He could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen this type of stuff until he hit middle school. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t do, but damn. All in all, tutoring went well. Vanessa actually learned something today. “Good job!,” he said. “Thank you,” she smiled and hugged him,“I felt so stupid”.

“Hey, its okay not to understand things”

Her mom walked in. “Dinner’s ready”. Vanessa got up and went to the kitchen. “How’d it go?,” she asked Nagito. “Went well, she gets the math now,” he answered. She smiled, thanking him for his help and asking him to join them for dinner. He’d be foolish not to, so he accepted the invite.

Fish tacos were served tonight with rice and beans, another lemonade made. It was different than anything Nagito had ever had, but that doesn’t equate to bad. He actually enjoyed the meal. The kids sat at the main table today, much more respectful than yesterday. “Michael how was school?”. He put a thumbs up, getting back to eating. “And Adrianna?”. She looked up from her meal and shrugged. “What’s wrong?”.

“I’m tired, but class was okay”

“Oh, okay. When you’re done, just take a quick shower and get to bed”

“Thanks”

Nagito thought it was endearing. Seeing how understanding and loving she was, it was refreshing. The kids all eventually left, Nagito finishing his meal. “Did you like it?”. He looked at her, nodding. “Great! Seconds?”.

“Full again. I don’t usually eat, but your food is always so good”

“Oh, you’re just saying things...”

“No, really! Thank you”

He said his goodbyes to the family, walking back home. It was as if he was falling for this woman more and more everyday. He went to sleep, this time dreaming of her. He never dreams, but this time he dreamt she was on her knees for him. Then, nothing else. It was as if his dream teased him.

The next morning, he woke up to some knocking on the door. He looked at the time. 8:23am. He put on a pair of jeans and his shirt, walking to his door. He opened it and there she stood, wearing a black dress and red heels. He assumed she had work and needed a favor before going. “Good morning,” he said.

“Were you following me yesterday?”

Shit.

“I, uh...,” he didn’t know what to answer. He was indeed following her yesterday. He also liked her, so if he straight up said that he was to following her, it’d ruin things. His face was glowing a shade of pink to a slight red as he thought of the right answer. He was still stumbling over his words. “I think it’s kinda cute,” she added. The fuck? “Huh?”. She pushed him inside the house, closing and locking the door behind him. “When a boy follows someone around, it’s because he wants something,” she added, but her tone was so sultry,“Well, Nagito—”. She pushed him onto the couch, leaning in front of him with her hands on his chest.

“—What do you want?”

None of what was happening felt real. Nagito couldn’t find the words to express what exactly he wanted. This was the first time he’d ever been in a situation like this, it wasn’t a bad one either. He began to panic when she straddled him. “Could it be that you wanted me?,” she asked. He frantically nodded and she laughed as she locked her lips with his. He gasped against her lips, kissing back. She slowly trailed her kisses down to his neck, cupping his jaw while grinding on his lap. Nagito moaned, his shaky hands grabbing her ass. She grabbed his hands and put them away from her. “It’s cute that you’re getting this carried away”.

“I’m sorry”

“No time to apologize. Get on your knees for mommy”

Nagito was about to lose his mind when she said that, but he obeyed. Her presence was domineering as he stood on his knees against his carpeted floor. She spread her legs, noticing Nagito desperately trying to get a look. Her red heel stopped him, stepping on his head lightly. “Am I teasing you?,” she asked,“It’s okay to be honest”.

“Y-You are, but its okay. I want to be teased by you”

“You’re adorable,” she took her heel off his head,“Let’s go to your room”.

He practically ran to his bed. He sat and waited patiently. She entered the room, heading to his bed. She began to take off his shirt, admiring his frame. She then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. He kicked them off and sat down. She sat next to him. “Give me your hands”. She held them, frowning slightly. “Boo, they’re so cold,” she teased,“I’ll warm them up for you”. Carefully, she grabbed his left hand, putting his middle and ring finger in her mouth. She licked to his fingertips, leaving him tense and speechless. She stopped and smiled at him.

“This is your first time, isn’t it?”

He nodded shyly. “Don’t be shy,” she said,“I’m going to guide you, but I’m also going to have my fun”. He gulped, nodded. She stood up and removed her dress. She wore a lacy black bra and panties. She brought his hands to her breasts, allowing him to fondle them. They were huge in his hands. “You like them, baby?”. “Y-Yes,” he muttered,“Can you, uh, take....the bra off?”. He was ashamed when asking, he felt desperate. She smiled and nodded, unhooking it and allowing the bra to fall to the ground. He gasped at the sight of her tits, grabbing them. She straddled him.

“Do you know what to do with them?”

He nodded, rubbing one and sucking the other. She moaned sweetly, grinding on his lap. He popped his mouth off them. That was when she took the opportunity to knock him onto the bed. She began to make out with him, shoving his tongue down her throat. They lay sideways. Her hand was on his neck, slightly choking him. He couldn’t resist but try to grind on her lap. She laughed. “Look at you,” she mocked,“Humping my leg like a desperate little puppy”. She didn’t let him speak, sitting up and pushing him back down. “I’m going to give you what you want,” she whispered in his ear,“Take your cock out”.

He was nervous as he did, hands shaky. She blushed a bit at his size. “It’s so big,” she said, straddling him,“I’m going to have my way with it”. “Please, do what you want to me,” he begged,“Abuse me, please”. She didn’t speak, sinking down on it. Nagito gasped, she was extremely wet. She began to bring her hips up and land straight down on it, repeatedly. She put her hands around his throat, now being rougher. Nagito gasped for air, grabbing her hands.

That was a mistake.

“Hands down,” she ordered, striking him across the face. “Sorr-”. He was slapped once again. “Only speak when you’re spoken to”. He nodded as his stomach began to cave in. His cock twitched each time she slapped him, making her moan. She leaned forward, capturing his earlobe between her teeth. He winced, his hands tangling in the sheets. He felt as though his entire body was blushing.

“You’re so sensitive there”

She teased him, kissing the skin and nibbling. His hips involuntarily snapped upward, making her whine. “You’re so desperate, baby,” she laughed,“it’s so cute”. He could feel her warmth running along his cock. He bit into his hand, trying to stop himself from cumming inside her. It worked, but she didn’t like him doing that. She grabbed his hands and kissed them.

“Don’t hurt yourself, put them right here”

She placed them on her boobs. He watched them bounce up and down, grabbing them gently. His rather large hands seemed small on her tits. He was extremely flushed. He took them off her and placed them on her hips. “Open your mouth”. He lay back more and did as he was told. She leaned forward, grabbing his jaw again as she spit into it and kissed him. He moaned when she did, his urges getting the best to him and thrusting upward. He hit her cervix every time, causing her to produce the sweetest and sluttiest of moans. Her walls tightened around him and now he was whining. “Are you gonna cum, honeybun?,” she asked.

“Y-Yes..”

“Where do you wanna cum?”

“I wanna cum...everywhere. I want it. I want it so bad. I wanna cum inside and on your tits, on your ass, y-your face..mouth. Please let me cum, mommy”

She motivated him, riding him harder. “Come on, Nagito,” she whispered,“Cum for mommy. Cum all the way inside her”. He lost his mind after that, groaning as he shot his load(s) inside her. He was still inside her as he tried catching his breath. She rubbed his chest, shushing him. “Good boy, you did so well,” she cooed,“Such a good boy.” He was covering his face, embarrassed and still hard. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?,” she asked. He shook his head, thinking,“Not rough enough”. He whined when she got off, revealing he was still erect. She noticed.

“You wanna go again, baby? Kids don’t leave school till 2:30. We have time for an extra fuck”

“C-Can I?”

“Yes, dummy”

She let Nagito choose how to fuck her. He wanted missionary, mostly because he craved intimacy and she did not disappoint. She kissed and praised him, telling him he was good. She held onto him the whole time and cuddled him afterwards. Nagito felt so special, he felt loved. “I can come over when I don’t have work,” she said,“Would you like that?”.

“I’d love that actually”

“You make me happy, Nagito. I could stay here and cuddle all day”

“I feel so lucky”

He yawned, looking at the clock. “Its 10,” he told her. She nuzzled his chest, humming. “Mmmm, let’s take a small nap,” she whispered,“Okay?”. “Okay”. He kissed the top of her head and held her to him, slowly joining her in slumber.

#danganronpa #fanfic #danganronpa goodbye despair #smut #dr nagito #sdr2 nagito #nagito headcanons #nagito smut #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda #nagito komeada x reader #x reader #danganronpa nagito

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tobesolonely · 3 years

Text

aura

A/n: Hi everyone! this is a tad bit different from the things i usually write (I think) as i wanted to switch things up a little bit. I’m kinda nervous to post it so pleaseee please let me know your thoughts! As always please enjoy!! thank you to everyone who beta read for me btw :)

summary: witch!y/n can see auras and harry is blue

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N has always been able to easily empathize with others. She could see others' emotional energy— their aura— and this made it easy to know exactly what they were feeling. Not only could she see auras, but she could take away anyone’s emotional turmoil just by touching them.

One of Y/N’s most vivid memories from her childhood was when her best friend came to school one morning in tears over the death of her pet fish. When Y/N leaned in to give her a hug, she felt an overwhelming heaviness overtake her body as soon as they made contact. Upon pulling away from the hug, her friend’s demeanor was completely changed. Instead of being sad over the death of her fish, she was able to instead reflect on all the good times she had with him. Her friend was fine for the rest of the day, but Y/N was left grieving over a fish she never even owned.

Y/N went home that day, confused. How was it that her friend was so easily cheered up just from a hug? Was that all it took for Y/N to make others feel better? If that was the case, she decided she wanted to be a ‘Professional Hugger’ when she grew up. As time went on, Y/N learned that she didn’t even have to hug others to rid them of their mental pain. The slightest touch from her instantly made anyone she came into contact with feel better.

It took a few months for Y/N to realize it was her touch that healed others. Sure, that mental anguish then became hers to carry, but how many people could say they could heal someone just by touching them? If that was the price she had to pay, then so be it. From that point on Y/N made it a point to help anyone she could.

As Y/N got older and her skill with this power grew, she learned to redirect the painful energy elsewhere so she didn’t always have to sit with it. It worked some of the time, but it was something she was still learning to master. Y/N wasn’t always successful in doing this, though. While whoever Y/N touched went about their day feeling great, she would experience their emotions so intensely that she felt as if she were coming down with a cold. Y/N dealt with it in silence because the way she saw it if she was blessed with this gift, she had to be selfless and put it to good use. Y/N was a firm believer that all the good she put out would come back to her in another life at least ten times over.

It was difficult for Y/N not to touch everyone she saw whose aura reflected sadness, anxiety, or worry. She tried to stick to only doing this to people she knew, but there were some instances where Y/N encountered someone who was just so clearly unhappy that she could not help herself.

For example, right now.

Y/N immediately sensed this stranger’s emotional turmoil as soon as they entered the space. It was late afternoon on a Wednesday. Y/N had the longest, most physically demanding day at work and the last thing she wanted to do was go home and cook. Even though she had just gone grocery shopping two days prior, she stopped by her favorite Thai place on the way home. Y/N was in the middle of ordering when their presence quite literally took her breath away, causing her to stumble over her words.

She turned to look over her shoulder at the person who was so greatly distracting her and locked eyes with the most pitiful looking stranger she’d seen all day. The first thing Y/N noticed about him was his hair. It was unruly, like he had just gotten out of bed. She also noticed how tall he was–– if he had just a couple more inches on him, he would’ve had to crane his neck to enter the establishment. Upon making eye contact with Y/N the man quickly looked down at his shoes, twiddling his thumbs. His aura was a mixture of indigo and dark red when Y/N looked at him. Anger and sensitivity.

“Do you still need a moment?”

The voice of the cashier breaks Y/N out of her analytical thoughts of the stranger standing a few feet behind her. She nods, re-situating her purse on her left shoulder.

“Uh, please. He can go ahead if he’s ready.” Y/N gestures behind her and the cashier nods, asking the man behind her if he was ready to order yet. He steps up to the front counter, eyes trained on his feet as if he couldn’t walk without watching every step he took.

His energy was intense and Y/N wasn’t sure how much longer she could ignore it. Something about him was reeling her in— his aura wasn’t looking too bright at the moment, but she could just tell it usually was. She felt compelled to take away his pain, and she hadn’t spoken a single word to him yet. While he was placing his order, Y/N internally debated on whether or not she should “accidentally” graze his arm when they walked past each other. Would that be weird? What if she wasn’t able to redirect his negative energy elsewhere? While she did love to help whenever she could, some people’s emotional baggage was just a little too heavy. She didn’t know him. For all she knew, he could be a killer!

He turns back around once he’s finished ordering and stands by the entrance, out of Y/N’s way. The pair lock eyes again as Y/N makes her way back to the counter to order. Once again, he quickly looked away from her. Y/N’s trying to ignore the annoying nagging feeling she gets when she wants to help someone, but it’s unrelenting. She makes up her mind that once she’s done, she will approach this stranger to get a better read on his emotions.

“Nice weather we’re having today, isn’t it?” She cringes at her choice of a conversation starter and hopes he doesn’t notice. Y/N folds her hands across her chest, forcing herself not to reach out to him. He nods.

“Lovely.”

The tone of his voice causes Y/N to wince. It was sharp and short. He was clearly not in the mood to converse. Although Y/N knows this, she continues on.

“I love this place. I think I come here at least twice a month–– what’s your go-to order?”

The man turns to fully face Y/N this time, his aura now more red than blue. He was beginning to grow annoyed with her small talk.

“Green curry and stir-fried vegetables.” He doesn’t ask Y/N for her order, so she takes this as her signal to stop speaking to him. The bell above the door jingles, signaling another persons’ entry. Their aura is shining gold–– Y/N would not have to interfere.

Y/N moves away from this man, deciding not to speak to him anymore. She was getting better at accepting the fact that no matter how much she wanted to, it was impossible to help everyone. As he collected his food from the front and turned to leave, not sparing Y/N another glance, she silently hoped that whatever was wrong with this man would not last.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry was in a funk. There was no denying it, and he was over feeling so terribly. He hadn’t been feeling like himself for far too long. It seemed like everyone wanted something from him when he had nothing left to give. Jeff had set unrealistic deadlines, his mother was upset with him for not calling enough, and he was exhausted from constantly traveling and waking up in a new time zone. Harry needed a break.

Harry’s mind wandered to the pretty girl in the Thai place. She seemed inquisitive. She was very curious about his go-to order, and she was standing a little too close for his comfort. Harry was surprised when she didn’t ask him for a picture. He wasn’t trying to be cocky, but nearly everyone he met asked him for a picture–– he was Harry Styles. However, it was almost like this girl didn’t know who he was. She didn’t seem starstruck in the slightest.

While Harry was waiting for the light to change, it dawned on him that he may have been a tad bit rude to her. He noticed her happy expression drop when he shut her down, but he didn’t feel like talking. He liked to move from place to place as quickly as he could in the off chance he got recognized and it started circulating on Twitter. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a little bad. She was sweet like honey–– or so it seemed. In their brief interaction, she bought him comfort.

Harry wanted to turn back around and go back to the restaurant to check if she was still there. What would be the point, though? She would most likely be long gone by the time he made it back over there, as she did order immediately after him. Harry’s torn out of his thoughts when the cars behind him start honking, and he realizes the light must’ve turned green. He decides not to think about the confrontation anymore.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The world works in mysterious ways.

Y/N was sure she’d never encounter the grumpy man from her favorite Thai restaurant again but yet here she was in another situation that involved take-out and him. His aura was dark indigo this time. Stress? Isolation? Y/N didn’t know, but she wanted to help him. In her eyes, there was no reason for anyone to be down this badly. She just wanted everyone to be as happy as she (almost) always was! She takes a deep breath before approaching him.

“Hi. How are you?”

Harry was absorbed in a text conversation involving his manager and stylist when a sweet, familiar voice interrupts him.

“I’m okay, thank you. Yourself? Also, we’ve spoken before, I believe.”

She nods, a troubled look on her face. “We have. At the Thai place. How are you, though? Really.”

Harry was beginning to find her a bit strange (but still incredibly gorgeous, even more than he did before now that he got a good look at her face). Why was she so concerned with how he was feeling? Was she going to ask him for a picture or not? As Harry opened his mouth to again tell her he was fine, the desire to tell her how he was really feeling came over him. So he did.

“Honestly? ‘M exhausted. I’ve been doing a lot of traveling and my manager wants a lot from me. I think I jus’ need a break.”

He radiated red. Anxiety? Anger?

“What do you do for work?” Now it was Harry’s turn to wear the troubled look.

“I don’t mean this to be rude, but you’re serious?”

Y/N nods, reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder. Just as quickly as she touches him she removes her hand, and she’s almost certain he didn’t even feel her touch. She notices him let out a visible sigh of relief, his aura changing from a red to a pale yellow. Optimism. Positivity. This causes her to let out her own sigh of relief.

“You’re feeling better! That’s great.” Y/N was not able to redirect his negative energy as the restaurant was too crowded and she didn’t want to risk putting it on anyone else, and she was feeling him. He was stressed, overworked, and anxious. Y/N just wanted to go home and nap, no longer in the mood for the food she just ordered.

Harry decided she was definitely odd but in the most endearing way possible. “How do you know I’m feeling better? Wait, am I feeling better?” Y/N watches as he works through his emotions, his aura ranging in color before settling back on pale yellow.

“Are you?” Y/N knows the answer to this of course, but she wants to hear him say it.

“I think I am. I’ve been feelin’ horrible all week but saying how I felt out loud to you automatically made me feel better. Kind of weird, but I won’t question it. Thank you for asking…,” Harry scrunches his nose, a distasteful expression on his face. “I don’t think ‘ve gotten your name yet.”

Y/N gives him a small, forced smile. “I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you. I’ll be seeing you around, I think.” Before Harry can tell her his name she’s gone.

And she didn’t even grab her food.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N felt like she had been hit by a ton of bricks. How one person could carry around all this emotional baggage was beyond her, but she wanted it gone. Immediately.

There was a spell Y/N kept on hand for times like these. Times when she couldn’t redirect the negative energy before it got to her. Times when it was just too much to carry. Y/N had regretfully done this spell more times than she could count and was an expert at reciting it from memory. The vile was open and ready to capture the negative energy that would shortly be leaving her.

Y/N works quickly to complete the process, unsure of what time her roommate would come barreling through the door. She had caught her doing things she deemed strange one too many times (she thought her roommate almost figured out who she really was when she caught her having a full-on conversation with her cat, Sapphire, once). She was beginning to run out of excuses for her “unusual” behavior. Y/N mutters under her breath, willing the energy to exit her.

She notices right away when it leaves her. She feels lighter— like her usual self again. She guides the energy into the vile and immediately seals it, hurrying into her room to lock it away. Y/N kept a box in her closet that she only opened if she had to. It was her Pandora’s Box, in a way. Nothing bad would be released into the world if she opened the box, but if the viles’ were opened then the bad energy she trapped would be re-released into the world, finding its way back to their original owners.

Y/N feels like she can breathe again once she bolts the box. She hoped that whatever he was doing, wherever this man was, he was still feeling okay.

Also, for his sake and everyone’s around him, she hoped he got a break.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N was on Harry’s mind.

Something about her was magnetic. He wished he’d gotten more information about her than only her name, but she left him in such a hurry he could hardly process their conversation. Harry felt like a madman! He searched ‘Y/F/N Y/L/N’ on all social media platforms, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. It was dumb luck that he had ran into her twice in such a short time span, and he hoped good things happened in threes and he would see her again.

He was almost certain that Jeff thought he was losing his mind.

Harry tried explaining his interaction with Y/N first at the Thai food spot and again when he was getting Greek food, but Jeff thought Harry was so sleep deprived he was imagining things.

“How did you see a beautiful, young woman who didn’t freak out or ask for a picture? Doesn’t make sense. You’re Harry Styles.”

“That’s what I thought!” Harry exclaimed wildly. He holds his phone up. “I’m thinkin’ she really doesn’t know who I am, though. I couldn’t find her on any social media platform. It’s like she’s off the grid or somethin’.”

“No social media at all? A little weird, isn’t it?”

“It’s fitting for her. If you met her then you would understand what I meant,” Harry felt the need to defend this alluring stranger who took away his pain just by listening to him speak. “Look at me, Jeff. Don’t I seem so much better than I was jus’ a few days ago?”

His manager couldn’t deny that Harry’s mood (and attitude) had done a 360. He didn’t complain about being woken up early and he happily consented to do not one, but two interviews.

“I mean, yeah? I guess––”

“Thanks to her!” Harry cuts him off. “I’m telling you. I need to see her again and thank her for whatever she did.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Harry leaned back against the counter in Jeff’s kitchen, mulling the question over. It was a valid one. How was he going to do that? He already tried to no avail to find her on social media. He hardly knew anything about her. All he knew was her name, that they seemed to have a similar taste in food, and that she went to the Thai spot at least two times a month.

That was it.

In one last effort to contact Y/N again, Harry planned to go to the Thai food place, pray the cashier who was working when he went in earlier this week was there, and leave his number with her. It was a risky move, probably not the smartest thing he could do, and Jeff would for sure drop him as a client if he knew Harry was doing things like this. Harry didn’t care. Phone numbers could always be changed, and he was desperate.

If Harry couldn’t contact Y/N, he would wait for her to contact him.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N was confused.

She stopped at her favorite Thai food spot (sooner in the month than anticipated, but she had another long day), ordered her usual, and was about to leave when the sweet cashier who was always there insisted she takes the piece of paper with ‘HARRY’ followed by a phone number scrawled on it.

“For me?” Y/N was confused. Something like this had never happened to her before. I mean, does it happen to anyone?

“He insisted,” the cashier warmly responds. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back–– knew you would soon enough.” Y/N’s face flushes at this and she makes a mental note to start cooking more.

“Well…,” Y/N trails off, not sure what to say. “Thank you? I guess I’ll give him a call and let him know you’ve done well.” The cashier’s aura shines pink. Affection. Love.

“You should. Take care!”

Y/N leaves the restaurant with the crumpled piece of paper in her sweaty hands, eager to get home as soon as possible. She wasn’t sure what it was, but something told her not to disregard him. His reaching out was a sign–– and Y/N did not ignore signs.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“She hasn’t called me yet.”

“It’s been five days, Harry. She probably doesn’t eat Thai food every day. I can’t believe you did something so fuckin’ stupid…”

Jeff’s reprimanding fades into the background as Harry drifts off into daydreaming about what it would be like if– when- Y/N finally called him. Would she find him obsessed? What if she thought he was stalking her? Harry decided that when she called, he would immediately clear things up. He’d thank her for her kindness (his trademark) and see how she was doing. She left the Greek food place so abruptly when he last saw her that he was under the impression something was bothering her. Harry wasn’t sure what he could do to help if something was troubling her, but he could at least extend a listening ear to her as she did to him.

“Harry, are you listening?”

“What was that?”

Jeff shakes his head at Harry, an amused expression on his face. “Man, I hope she calls you soon.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The phone rang three times. After the third ring, his gruff voice came through the other end of the phone.

“Hello?”

Y/N sharply inhales, suddenly growing nervous. “Is this Harry?” Silence. Y/N was preparing to repeat herself when he spoke again.

“Is this Y/N?”

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to be silent. Harry says nothing, awaiting her response. “Well, it is. You sound familiar–– how do we know each other?”

“Now that ’m actually able to talk to you, it sounds a bit silly…” He seems unsure of himself. “Promise y’won’t laugh at me?”

“I promise.”

Y/N says it with such conviction that Harry believes her, and it gives him the confidence he needs to proceed. “I was havin’ a hard time a couple of weeks ago. I was in line to get some falafel and you asked me what was wrong. What was really wrong.” Y/N says nothing, so Harry continues.

“I told you I was exhausted from work ‘nd wanted a break. That’s it, y’know? But I immediately felt better afterward. I’ve actually been feelin’ great ever since. I jus’ wanted to thank you, is all. I know it sounds weird and it’s probably all in m’head but I feel like talkin’ with you was just what I needed.” Harry’s rambling, nerves finally catching up to him. She was gorgeous and he was afraid she would think he was insane.

“I’m glad to hear you’re still feeling better, Harry. That’s great.” Y/N’s voice is gentle and soft and to Harry, hearing her speak was just as comforting as getting a hug from his mum.

“I’m also really sorry that I was such a dick when you tried talkin’ to me the first time at the Thai spot,'' Harry feels embarrassed, stumbling over his words. “Not sure if you remember but I was just havin’ a shit day. I thought you were gonna ask for a picture and I just wasn’t in the mood.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything and Harry winces, certain he’s offended her when she starts talking again.

“That’s okay. I know you were having a bad day.”

“How did you know I was having a bad day?” Again, Y/N pauses before answering.

“Well, I didn’t do anything to you for you to be so rude to me. I knew it had to be a problem involving yourself.” Harry notices that Y/N speaks very slowly. It’s as if she considers every word before she speaks. He’s intrigued by her.

“That is very true.” Y/N doesn’t say anything so Harry takes it as his cue to keep talking. “I’m sorry if me leaving my number at the restaurant creeped you out. I hope you didn’t feel obligated to call me.”

“Not at all. I’ve actually been wondering how you were doing since we had our encounter at the Greek place–– that doesn’t creep you out either, right?”

Y/N was hypnotizing. Harry was infatuated.

“Not at all.”

“Can I ask you something, Harry?”

“Course.”

“Why would I want a picture with you?”

Harry had to get to know her.

“Do y’wanna grab coffee sometime?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Something was definitely different about Y/N–– Harry just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. To begin, she truly had absolutely no idea who Harry was. At first, he thought she was just messing with him, but he quickly realized she was being serious. Y/N said she had “heard of” One Direction, but she never listened to the band’s music. Harry supposed that could account for her being unaware as to who he was. Maybe he wasn’t a “household name” like Jeff always said he was.

Harry was also right about her not having social media. When he asked Y/N why she didn’t use it, she said she preferred to occupy her time with more substantial things. She didn’t elaborate, and Harry didn’t ask. She was however very interested to learn what a big social media following Harry had. He tweeted the word “Do” and they watched as the internet went wild trying to decipher what he meant. He even started trending worldwide for it. It made sense to Y/N after that why Harry was so intent on not taking off his sunglasses and beanie.

Y/N was having a great time analyzing his aura.

She noticed that whenever someone glanced in their direction, his aura briefly turned red. Anxiety. When Y/N attempted to make a joke, it turned pink (she chose not to analyze that too much). Mainly though, his aura shone that beautiful, pale yellow that Y/N loved to see the most. Harry was doing well. He was happy. Y/N would not have to intervene today.

She couldn’t explain why, but she felt obligated to help him. Even though his energy made her feel so terribly last time, she would’ve still taken away his pain if he was blue without even thinking twice about it. Why was she so drawn to him? Y/N wasn’t sure what it was about Harry that drew her in, but she knew she would do anything to help him. Anything to see him happy.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Harry felt the same way.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N missed Harry terribly.

She wanted to call him–– just a brief conversation to see if he was doing okay. He mentioned when they last saw each other nearly two weeks prior that he was going to be very busy in the coming days, and she wondered if he still was. Harry told Y/N that he loved his job (of course he did!), but being so busy sometimes really hurt him. Not just mentally, but physically as well.

She longed for him.

Y/N searched through her call list for Harry’s number and immediately tapped it, listening closely as it rang. She was about to end the call in defeat when Harry answered at the last moment.

“Hello?” He sounded tired, under the weather.

“Harry,” Y/N begins. “I haven’t heard from you in a bit and I just wanted to see if all was well. How do you feel?”

“Hi Y/N,” Harry perks up slightly, but he still sounds a bit congested. “‘M not sure if you can tell from m’voice, but I’ve got a cold.”

Although Y/N wishes with every fiber of her being that she could rid Harry of his cold, she cannot. However, she can make sure all is well with his mind.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she pauses for a moment as she usually does, hoping Harry can tell how sincere she’s being on the other end. “How do you feel though? Are you still feeling happy?”

“Jus’ feelin’ not the greatest again. I’ve been stuck in my house with this fuckin’ cold and haven’t seen anyone in days.”

“I can come over.” Y/N doesn’t think twice before offering. If he had to suffer physically, she at least wanted him to feel okay mentally.

“I don’t want to get you sick. It’s okay–”

“I don’t mind, really. I’ll keep you company.”

Harry doesn’t say anything and Y/N’s sure she must’ve creeped him out. They don’t even know each other well and here she was offering to come over to his home and keep him company while he was sick. She’s about to rescind her offer when he lets out a loud sigh.

“My manager might kill me if he finds out I did this… but sure, let me give you my address.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

As soon as Harry got off the phone, he sprung into action. His home was a mess. There were crumpled up tissues all over the floor beside his bed, a sink full of dishes, and he’s pretty sure every bathroom in his house was a mess. He opted to not have anyone over to clean up after him as he didn’t want to risk getting anyone sick and man did it show.

He quickly gathered up all the tissues and threw them into the bin in the corner of his bedroom, surveying the rest of the mess before deciding he and Y/N wouldn’t be spending time in there, anyway. He was going to focus on the mess downstairs, instead. He loaded his dishwasher and record time and used disinfectant wipes on every surface he could in the kitchen, dining room, and living room. He then surveyed the bathrooms and cleaned the one with the least amount of mess, closing the doors to the other ones. He would worry about those some other time.

Harry was nervous to have Y/N over. He was just nervous to be around her in general. He missed her over the past couple of weeks but he opted out of contacting her, terrified that he was a bother. After Harry finished cleaning in record time, it dawned on him that he didn’t really have any food prepared to offer Y/N. If she was coming over to his house just to cheer him up, the least he could do was offer her something to eat. Harry hated doing things like this, but he was desperate. He texted his assistant and asked if they could drop off some food from the Greek place he and Y/N liked, making a mental note to find out what other places she enjoyed eating at for next time.

Y/N gets to his house much sooner than he was anticipating.

He rushes to his front door, looking through the peephole before opening the door. Y/N has a big smile on her face and looks absolutely gorgeous, as she usually does. She has a huge water bottle in one hand and a tote bag with the phases of the moon slung over her shoulder. He’s never seen it before and thinks it’s lovely.

“Hi,” Harry says breathlessly. “Thanks for coming. Uh, come in please.”

Y/N smiles and takes a small step forward, crossing the threshold of Harry’s home. She thought it was incredible–– and rather clean. “What can I do to help?”

Harry was getting used to Y/N’s straightforward approach to things, so he’s not phased by her question. “Jus’ you bein’ here is great, honestly.”

Y/N can see that Harry’s aura is that deep indigo that she’s not fond of, but she wonders if he can work through it himself before she steps in. “So it’s just your cold that’s got you feeling down? Can we sit down and talk about it?”

“Sure. Also, not sure if you’ve eaten yet or not but I’m gettin’ some food dropped off for us.”

“That sounds great, I haven’t had dinner yet so thank you. Can we sit?” Y/N doesn’t wait for Harry to answer. She makes her way to his plush couch in the adjoining room, walking through the place like she’s been there before. Harry loves it.

“I think I told you the gist of it on the phone earlier,” Harry says, settling onto the couch beside her. He leaves some space in between them since he doesn’t want to risk getting her sick, but he wishes he was closer to her. “I’ve been feelin’ down ‘cause I’ve been stuck in the house with this cold. S’not fun.” Y/N hums in understanding. Harry notices that she reaches out her hand to him slightly and then quickly retracts it, but he doesn’t mention it. Y/N says nothing, just continues looking inquisitively at him. Harry doesn’t feel uncomfortable under her gaze–– he stares back.

“Something’s making you feel nervous. What is it?”

Harry isn’t surprised that she was able to figure out there was more to what he was feeling than just loneliness. How was he supposed to tell Y/N that she was the reason for his nervousness, though?

“It’s nothing. I promise.”

“I don’t think so.”

Harry scratches the back of his neck nervously. “How are you so good at reading me? S’like you’re inside my brain, Y/N.” He lets out a little chuckle after saying this but quickly stops when he realizes Y/N isn’t laughing along with him.

“You’re just easy to read,” she cooly responds after a second. “Why are you so nervous? Do you have something coming up for work?”

“Not really…”

“Then what is it? Something going on with someone in your family?”

Harry was quickly realizing Y/N wouldn’t drop this unless Harry gave her an answer. He silently hopes for the best before answering her.

“It’s you,” he mumbles, shifting around uncomfortably on his couch. “You make me nervous.” Y/N watches as his aura changes from red and blue to pink, and his cheeks flush slightly.

“Why do I make you nervous?”

“You just do.”

“Why? Have I done something to hurt you?”

Y/N was so painfully oblivious that it was cute. Harry was quickly realizing that his heart doubled in size every time he talked to her.

“No. Quite the opposite, actually,” Harry reaches in the pocket of his sweatpants for a tissue, facing away from her while he pauses to blow his nose. “You’re so… you’re jus’ very interesting. Mesmerizing, really.”

Y/N feels her skin heat up at Harry’s compliment. His aura is still shining pink, the brightest pink she’s ever seen since meeting him. She was sad to see there was still quite a bit of indigo and red, though. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

Before Y/N can stop herself, she reaches out to grab Harry’s hand. Immediately she feels his energy transfer to her and without thinking, Y/N flicks her finger out of force of habit. The beautifully potted Pothos that Harry has sitting on his television stand instantly droops, leaves turning brown and wilted.

Harry’s completely perplexed.

The first thing he notices is that he’s feeling better. Great, even. He feels as good as he felt after the interaction he had with Y/N in the Greek food place all those weeks ago. The next thing he notices is that his gorgeous Pothos, a plant that is nearly impossible to kill, is dead.

And it was all Y/N’s doing.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

please let me know what you thought!

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #aura #thanks for reading!

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wayward-dreamer · 3 years

Text

A Man of Action

Square/s Filled: Intercrural Sex (Kink Bingo), Director!Jensen (AU Bingo)

AO3 Link: Read Here

Pairing: Director!Jensen x Female!Actor!Reader

Word count: 6,516

Rating: Explicit - 18+!

Summary: While directing his episode of Supernatural, Jensen and Y/N, the female guest star of the week, can’t hide their attraction for each other any longer. A little fun in his trailer is nearly over before it starts, but they find ways to keep each other satisfied.

Created for @spnkinkbingo, @spnaubingo

Warnings: Swearing, Dirty talk, Smut: Oral Sex (Male and Female receiving), Intercrural sex, ‘Sir’ kink, Implied protected sex in the future.

A/N: My first Jensen one-shot! *cue nervous laughter*... A HUGE thank you to my sister from another mister, my twin @downanddirtydean for being beta on this one! I love her to bits and she really helped me get over my lack of confidence in this one-shot. I hope you guys like it! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Y/N lightly bopped her head along to the slow melody playing from her earphones, as she flicked the page of the book she was reading. Crossing one leg over the other, she steadied the folding tall chair she was sitting on. Glancing up from her book, she smiled as she looked around at the set, waiting for the signal that they were ready to resume.

Y/N watched the crew, hard at work as they fixed lighting, checked the sound and redressed parts of the bunker. Her eyes scanned over the many people who worked tirelessly to make this show, feeling grateful to be even a small part of it herself.

This was her second time on the Supernatural set. She had guest starred in an episode last season, with Kim Rhodes who played Sheriff Jody Mills. Kim had quickly become a great friend, showing the ropes of the set, as did everyone else. She laughed as she remembered messing up her first scene with the stars of the show, Jared and Jensen, and how they quickly reassured her that she didn’t do anything for them to be mad at. They loved to have a laugh as much as the next person and were more often than not the ones who did most of the messing up of takes on purpose.

The first time was quite civil, but considering this was her second episode, Y/N was no longer off limits from the guys’ antics. Jared in particular was a giant goofball, doing everything perfectly on his coverage, and then purposely being bad on hers. Jensen was a little subdued this time around, as he was the director for this episode, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t had any fun.

There was an attraction between them. She felt it from the moment she laid eyes on him when she walked onto the set the year before. He was incredibly kind and absolutely hilarious, and not to mention insanely good-looking. They had talked and laughed about so many things in those 8 days, and she felt herself beginning to feel things for him she probably shouldn’t have. This time around, he may have been directing, but they still talked a lot. He showed her different parts of the stages during lunch breaks, walked her to lunch every day for the last 7 days, and made her feel so welcomed.

Y/N sensed that maybe the attraction wasn’t one sided as she often caught him looking at her, but she couldn’t be too sure and didn’t want to make a fool of herself in case she was wrong in her assumptions.

Y/N smiled as Frida, one of Supernatural’s assistant make-up artists, approached her. Her make-up bag, as well Jensen and Jared’s, were all hanging off of her as she returned a genuine smile to Y/N. She took out her earphones and closed her book, shifting in her chair to face Frida properly.

“Touch up time, already?” she asked, pushing her hair back slightly.

“Yep, we’ll be good to go in about 5,” Frida replied, taking out a brush and running it lightly through some powder. She applied it to Y/N’s face and then worked a little on the touching up the eye make-up. “Looking forward to it?” she added with a laugh.

Y/N cringed, lightly shaking her head. “Dear god, give me strength to get through it.”

“Get through what?” she heard a familiar voice ask.

Y/N’s eyes flicked up to look at Jared as she sat down in his chair, next to her. “To get through your unrelenting need to ruin my coverage.”

Jared laughed, clapping his hands. “It’s just too easy.”

“I know how Misha feels now,” Y/N laughed, closing her eyes as Frida worked on her eyelids.

Frida laughed along with her, nodding. “And Alex too.”

Trish, the head make-up artist, came up behind Frida and took Jared’s bag, getting him ready for the next scene.

“Pretty sure he’s still scarred from that time everyone was out to get him to crack, even Misha,” Trish added, chuckling.

“We’re up and running in 2!” they heard one of the assistant directors call out.

Frida finished up with Y/N as Trish finished touching up Jared’s make-up, allowing Y/N to get up and walk over to the war room set. She walked past crew members and smiled at them, a quick ‘hey’ to each of them as she did. She loved this set more than any other she had worked on. It was only her second time here, but it felt like home, with everyone always welcoming her back with open arms. She didn’t think she would be back a second time, but she was incredibly glad that she was. She loved her character, Lyla, so much and she was over the moon to explore her again.

Y/N felt the butterflies in her stomach erupt as she spied Jensen, in a deep conversation with Bob Singer as they looked over some of the dailies on the screens in front of them. He looked amazing, dressed as Dean in his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the white and black flannel draped over a chair close by. He was frowning but nodding along as Bob explained something to him, his scowl making him look even hotter if that was possible.

Suddenly, Jensen turned and walked towards her, his frown immediately morphing into a genuine smile as he approached her. She felt her heartbeat pick up, but she tried to calm herself down as she turned to face him.

“Okay, so we’re getting your coverage first, then Jared’s. I know he’s meant to go first, but making him wait tends to make him cooperate,” Jensen informed her, laughing lightly.

“Going easy on me, huh?” she joked, smiling up at him.

“A little, but you’ve handled it pretty well so far,” Jensen said, folding his arms across his chest. That gesture had killed her every time he did in the last several days, and this time was no different.

“Meh,” she shrugged, laughing. “I can throw it back at him if and when I need to.”

Jensen gave her nod, smiling with an approving look. “I won’t even try to stop you.”

She laughed as she shook her head, Jensen’s relaxed laughter joining hers.

She cleared her throat as she calmed herself, looking up at him. “Do I look okay, Mr. Director, sir?”

Jensen looked into her eyes, finding himself getting lost in Y/N’s beautiful features. He certainly wasn’t good at hiding his feelings for her, not the first time he met her and definitely not now. She was stunning, but she was also open and generous, kind and a total badass. He really wanted to ask her out and see where things went between them, but considering they were in their last day of filming, and she was more than likely leaving the next day, he knew he had missed his chance.

“You look great,” he told her, honestly and hoping she’d see how he meant it as more than just a director approving of her look for the episode.

Things moved pretty quickly from there, as Jensen left to sit behind the screens at video village, the cameras turned on and framed Y/N in the shot with the rest of the war room behind her, Jared stood to the side making sure to hit the mark and be in her right eye line. Everyone buzzed around them before José came in with the tail slate and called the take.

“Action!” they heard Jensen call out.

Y/N instantly fell into character, looking at Jared as ‘Sam’ and smiling. “How does Dean feel about this?”

Jared didn’t move considering the camera wasn’t on him, but he delivered the next line. “It took him a while to get used to the idea of Jack, but he got there eventually.”

Y/N nodded, staying in character. “You know what you’re doing, teaching Jack the ropes of this life… that’s amazing.”

Jared scoffed. “It didn’t exactly work though.”

“He’ll come back, Sam. He will. He just has to figure out what’s going on with his powers and he’ll come back to the bunker.” She finished the line but frowned, thinking it over. “Wait, sorry. Is it “come back to the bunker” or something else?”

One of the crew members quickly looked over the sides, and then shook their head. “It’s ‘come back home.’”

“Fuck, okay,” she groaned, annoyed with herself. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine, Y/N. Just take it from the same line,” Jensen reassured her, and she took in the patience in his voice. He was so damn good at this and she felt incredibly safe with him as a director and as an actor. She recalled how many times someone was awful to her just for messing up slightly, and how crappy she felt afterwards. She had never felt that on the Supernatural set, and she was so thankful for that.

“Let’s keep rolling,” Jensen informed everyone. “Y/N, when you’re ready.”

She nodded. Waiting a few seconds, she then continued. “He’ll come back, Sam. He will. He just has to figure out what’s going on with his powers and he’ll come back home.”

“It’s ‘to the bunker’,” Jared said, trying to be serious as he tried to mess her up.

“You’re an ass,” she laughed, shaking her head.

Jared laughed that mad laugh she had actually come to love very quickly, and she joined in. They descended into a fit of giggles, knowing full well it wasn’t that funny, but it somehow got to them anyway.

Jensen watched the screen in front of him, his eyes never leaving Y/N. Her laugh was infectious, and she looked even more beautiful when she did, making his heartbeat wildly in his chest. Knowing he had to break up the laugh fest, regretfully, he stood up from his chair.

“Alright, we’re good on Y/N’s coverage. Let’s move on and then we can break for lunch,” he announced.

The bell sounded as every present crew member hurried around the set, getting set up to shoot Jared’s coverage.

Y/N looked up and saw Jensen glance over at her. He smiled that smile she found herself wanting to see every second of every day, making her feel lightheaded and the butterflies flutter in her stomach again. He truly was a sight to behold and she only hoped that something more came of her time on Supernatural.

They managed to get through Jared’s coverage pretty quickly, Y/N doing off-camera dialogue for him as he had done for her. The bell sounded again, and Jensen called lunch. Everyone walked towards craft services, chatting about different parts of their lives. Jensen was talking with Bob, but after quickly making some decisions, he moved away and walked up to Y/N.

She looked up at Jensen as she felt him next to her, smiling brightly. They walked side by side through the lot, past all the pick-up trucks, SUVs and large trailers that housed the different departments of production. For the last 7 days, this had been a regular occurrence, him walking her to the lunch tent. On the 8th and final day of filming, it was no exception. She could feel the attraction between them, and a part of her hoped that he might ask her out, but she would even settle for a casual hook-up at that point.

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered, as he suddenly stopped short while looking down at his phone. “My phone’s about to die. Mind if we make a quick detour to my trailer so I can charge it up?”

“Lead the way,” she said, smiling as she gestured for him to go ahead. She followed him to his trailer, stepping in behind him.

As he looked around for a charger, she turned to every angle of the trailer, taking it in. It was big and spacious, with a large flat screen and comfortable couch, a bed at the other end and a nice kitchenette, but that was it. There was nothing outlandish and unnecessary in there.

“Nice to know there’s no aquarium in here,” she laughed, folding her arms.

Jensen scoffed a laugh as he shook his head. “Yeah, they really went overboard with that one.”

Finding a charger, he plugged it in and put his phone on charge. He turned to her, arms out as he brought attention to the trailer.

“So, this is it,” he said, his hands coming down and straight into his pockets. “As glamorous as you pictured, right?”

“Oh, much more than I was expecting,” she said, pretending to be serious. They looked at each other and laughed, as she shook her head. “I like it. It certainly doesn’t scream lead of a TV show slash on and off director.”

“What does it scream then?” he asked, looking down at her as she moved closer to him.

“Just a regular guy underneath all that star power,” she replied, her hand coming up and softly grazing his covered bicep.

She looked at him, her eyes never leaving his. It was clear to both of them that there was something between them. The minute she stepped onto set earlier than week, Jensen knew he was done for.

“Can I ask you something?” he wondered, his tongue darting out and licking at his lips, nervously. That little gesture had nearly sent her to her knees so many times that week, and in that moment, she felt like she would if he did it again.

“Shoot,” she told him.

His hand came up and took hers, his fingers intertwining with her delicate ones. “When can I see you again?”

“I don’t know. I’m leaving at noon tomorrow,” she said, moving closer to him and taking in the smell of his cologne.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispered, his head dropping forward to rest his forehead against hers. “Tell me I’m not fucking insane, and you feel something for me too.”

“You’re not,” she whispered in return, shaking her head against his. “The only thing fucking insane is that we didn’t do anything the minute we met.”

That was the only in Jensen needed. His hands cupped Y/N’s cheeks and pulled her face up, his lips pressing into hers in a rough but sensual kiss. Her hands roamed his chest, fisting his black t-shirt in her hands, trying to bring him in closer. They pulled away for a brief moment, breathing into each other heavily as they tried to catch their breath. They quickly stripped out of the clothes they were wearing, careful not to tug harshly as they were the costumes they’d have to put back on. Cupping her face again, he smirked as he moved them over to the couch.

“On your knees,” he instructed.

She huffed a laugh as she grinned. “Yes, sir.”

He quickly unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down, sitting back on the couch as she moved down to her knees in front of him. She tugged at his boxers and pulled them down, his hard cock springing free. She gasped as she smiled, her hand slowly wrapping around the shaft.

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby,” he demanded, his hand coming up to her hair and wrapping into it, tugging her closer.

She hummed as she moved closer, her tongue licking a stripe up his shaft. “You gonna direct me, sir?”

He groaned as he bit his lip, smirking. “Yeah, and if it’s anything like it is on set, I know you’ll hit your mark.”

She sucked at the tip of his cock, her tongue circling the head before she moved down, taking his length into her mouth. She bobbed her head, her spit coating his cock as she built up a rhythm.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Your mouth’s so fucking perfect, Y/N.”

She looked up at him, taking him deeper into her mouth.

“Hold still, darlin’,” he muttered in his sudden Texas drawl, his hand gathering her hair into his palm, the other cupping her face.

She stilled her movement, as he began thrusting up into her mouth at a fast pace. His cock hit the back of her throat, causing her to moan each time it did.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, looking down at her. “Look so good with my cock between your lips.”

Her saliva covered his cock, the glugging sound loud as he slipped in and out of her mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes glistening from the pressure of his hard cock against the back of her throat. His hand pressed down on her head, making her take his length into her mouth all the way to the base, holding her in place. She moaned to avoid gagging, thankful she didn’t have a gag reflex. He pulled her up, his cock leaving her mouth with a wet pop, a harsh breath leaving her lips as air came back into her lungs.

“Can’t wait to fuck you,” he said, cupping her face in his hands and bringing her lips to hers.

He lifted her up and carried her to the bed, throwing her down on it. She squealed as she bounced on the mattress, a naughty smile on her face as she looked up at him.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” she muttered, as her eyes raked over his body.

“I should be saying that about you,” he smirked, getting onto the bed and holding himself up above her.

He leaned down, kissing her passionately, before trailing down her jaw, neck and down to her breasts. His flicked his tongue over her nipple, his hand coming up to roll the other between his fingers.

“Fuck,” she moaned, as his felt his other hand move down her body.

He smirked as he sucked her nipple, feeling the slick between her legs. He released the nub and looked down at her, his fingers running through her folds and finding her clit. She moaned loudly, forgetting where she was for a moment, as she felt his fingers circle the bundle of nerves.

“Shh, baby,” he whispered, as he looked down into her eyes. “Can’t let the crew hear us.”

“Jensen… fuck me,” she whimpered, as she cupped his face.

Taking one of her hands off her face, he pinned it to the bed above her head. A chill ran down her spine as she looked into his eyes, now dark with arousal.

“Say it properly and I will,” he ordered, his voice gravelly and demanding.

She gulped but smiled tentatively. “Please fuck me, sir.”

“Good,” he said, before he leaned down and kissed her lips, once then twice.

They continued their passionate embrace, Y/N’s arms wrapping around Jensen’s neck as one of her hands combed into his short hair at the nape of his neck. Their lips moved against each other’s roughly and sensually, as they became desperate to feel more of each other. He held his cock and ran it along her folds, her wetness slicking his shaft and a clear sign that she was more than ready for him. However, his movements suddenly stopped as an unfair realization came to him.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling his lips away from hers. He looked down at her as an annoyed expression graced his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly worried she had done something wrong.

“I just remembered… I don’t have any condoms,” he replied, grimacing as he held himself up above her. “I don’t do this… well, ever. So, I don’t have anything.”

Her frown matched his. “I’m not on the pill right now, either.”

He nodded, trying to smile reassuringly and hide his disappointment. She knew that he was though, because she was too. She was desperate to feel him against her and inside her.

“I guess we better get to lunch, then,” she muttered softly, pushing herself up on her elbows. Her face was close to his, causing her to lean over and kiss his plump lips, softly.

“I just want to feel you,” he whispered against her lips, leaning in.

“Me too,” she said, in an equally hushed tone before his lips claimed hers again.

An idea suddenly came to him and he just hoped that she would be okay with it.

“Trust me?” he asked, softly as he looked into her eyes.

She smiled up at him, nodding slowly. “Yes, sir.”

He smirked as he helped her lie down on the bed again, bringing her legs up to rest her ankles on his shoulders. He shifted back until he was standing, her behind now on the edge of the bed.

Jensen smirked as his eyes darkened, taking hold of his cock and slapping it over her mound a few times. He moved Y/N’s thighs closer together, until they met around his cock. Slowly, he began to thrust, sliding his cock between her thighs in a gentle and sensual pace. She moaned softly, the new sensation of feeling his shaft against the skin of her inner thighs awakening something within her. He groaned, biting his lip at this new found arousal as he continued to move between her legs.

“How do I feel, sweetheart?” he asked, looking down at her.

“So good,” she moaned, looking at him. His ‘sweetheart’ gave her Dean vibes, which was definitely something she was adding to her list of kinks.

He picked up speed, his thrusts between her legs now a moderate pace. He gripped her thighs tight in his hands, which would no doubt leave bruises that she would get to admire later.

“Fuck,” he growled, his jaw clenching as he felt the pressure around his cock. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Shit,” she hissed. A small laugh left her mouth as she shook her head. “If this is anything to go by, I can’t wait for you to fuck me.”

He chuckled as he nodded. “Can’t wait to fuck you either, Y/N. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock, taking me so well.”

“Jensen,” she moaned softly. She remembered to keep quiet in case of wandering ears of crew members.

His hand came up and back down on her thigh, smacking her hard enough to make her yelp and get her attention. He looked at her with his darkened eyes, stern and somewhat frightening, which only aroused her more.

“Last time I checked, I’m still your director,” he groaned, grasping her thighs tight. “Touch yourself.”

She moaned as her hands came up to her breasts, her fingers tweaking her nipples as she looked up at him. He grunted as he watched her, one of hands slipping down between her legs. His fingers found her clit, rubbing them in tight circles around the swollen nub.

“Fuck! Jensen,” she moaned, breathlessly. “Make me cum.”

He chuckled as he shook his head, his fingers slowing down to a torturous pace. “Not yet, baby.”

“Please,” she begged, her chest heaving with her shallow breaths.

“You have to ask better than that, Y/N,” he informed her, the smirk still on his face.

“Please,” she whimpered. She moved one of her hands down, trying to touch her clit but he smacked it away, not giving up the control he had in that moment. “Please, sir… please make me cum.”

“Let’s make a deal, baby,” he suggested, an eyebrow raised as he continued to thrust between her thighs. He groaned, knowing he was close to his own release. “Make me cum first between these perfect thighs, and I’ll let you cum… all over my face.”

She moaned loudly, nodding frantically. The idea of his mouth on her where she wanted him most was too much to bear.

Pressing her thighs together firmly, Jensen’s thrusts became quicker and erratic, getting closer to falling over the edge. He growled as the pressure around his hard cock built, feeling it pulse with his impending release.

“Fuck,” he groaned. His hips faltered as he gripped tightly at the flesh of her thighs. He threw his head back, as he let go of her legs, and grasped his cock in his hand. He pumped his hand along his shaft, biting his lip as he looked down at her spread out on his bed. She sat up on her elbows, smiling up at him as she moved his hand away, taking over for him as her hand moved up and down along his cock.

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” he let out a guttural moan as her hand picked up speed. Ropes of his cum spurted out of his cock, landing on her stomach. She continued to pump him, making sure he gave her everything he had, relishing in the warmth of his release against her skin.

He breathed heavily, his hand cupping her face as he smiled at her. “Your turn.”

Moving his hand to her shoulder, he pushed her back lightly, smiling as she laughed. He got down on his knees, grasping her hips and pulling her to the edge of the bed. Y/N laughed as she slipped down, moving her hands up to her breasts and pinching her nipples. He smirked as he looked up at her, his tongue licking a stripe up her folds. He moaned at the taste of her, feeling how wet she was already from just fucking her thighs.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned loudly, as she felt his stubble against the inside of thighs. She bit down on her lip, trying to keep herself quiet as he continued to run his tongue along her folds, the vibrations of his moans running through her.

“Taste so fucking good, Y/N,” he muttered against her mound, looking up at her. “So perfect.”

He moved his mouth to her clit, moving his tongue in tight circles around the nub. Her hands came down and grabbed his short hair, clenching tightly as she pressed her lips together. His hand came up, slowly inserting a finger into her wet entrance, moving it in and out of her. He added another finger and began to thrust them back and forth, the pads of his fingers hitting her g-spot every time. She whimpered as he picked up speed, his perfect mouth sucking at her clit as he continued to move his fingers.

He released her clit from his mouth, kissing her inner thigh as he moved up her leg.

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against her skin, placing small nips along the inside of her thigh.

He looked at her, the smile never leaving his face. She pushed herself up on her elbow, her other hand still in his hair. Leaning up, he kissed her roughly as he continued to thrust his fingers into her. She moaned into his mouth, tasting herself on his tongue. She felt the familiar feeling of her release approaching, the coil winding tighter and tighter.

“You ready to cum for me, sweetheart?” he asked, his breath fanning against her lips.

“Yeah,” she gasped, nodding as she looked into his eyes. “Make me cum.”

“Make me cum… what?” he asked, his voice gravelly. A deep rumble erupted from his chest as he laughed with a mischievous grin.

She whimpered, gripping his hair harshly. “Make me cum, sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised, moving his head back down again.

Jensen moved his mouth back to her clit, his fingers picking speed as he hit that sweet spot inside of her with precision. Y/N looked down at him, still leaning on her elbow to give her a better view. She held his head in place, fearing he’d move if she removed her hand. He licked at her clit, the sounds of her wetness and his ministrations reaching her ears and causing a string of soft moans and whimpers to leave her lips. His mouth sucked at her, his tongue moving around the nub tightly and his fingers thrusting, faster and faster. She bit down on her lip, nearly drawing blood as the coil in her belly snapped. A harsh, strangled whimper of his name left her lips, as she came hard on his tongue and fingers. He lapped at her folds, taking in her juices before he moved his head away, smiling at her.

With a quick kiss to Y/N’s thigh, Jensen got up and fell back on the bed next to her. She breathed heavily as she looked at him, trying to catch her breath. Turning his head, he looked into her eyes. He turned onto his side, moving closer to her. His lips hovered close to hers, his eyes flicking between all the features of her face. She moved in the rest of the way, kissing him softly. Their lips moved passionately against each other’s, not wanting to let go. As much as he didn’t want to let go, he knew they had a schedule to keep today before they wrapped later that night.

“We only have 20 minutes left,” he mumbled, regretfully against her lips.

She nodded, sadly. “We should go.”

They both got up from the bed, cleaning themselves up and getting dressed again in relative silence. The only sounds were the rustling of fabrics and shoes on the floor of the trailer. Y/N fixed her hair as much as she could in the mirror, her eyes continuously flicking over to Jensen as he did the same, fixing the mess she had made of his short locks. With one last look at each other, Jensen opened the door of the trailer and looked around, letting her out first when he saw that no one was around. They walked to the lunch tent, receiving a few questions on their whereabouts. Jensen was quick to tell everyone he took Y/N to see some of the fan favourite props of the show, and Y/N was glad that people believed him, for the most part.

They ate quickly, both of them silent as they sat across from each other. Y/N didn’t know if they weren’t talking because they are was awkwardness after what happened, or whether it was because he didn’t want to accidentally say something about it in front of the crew. Quite frankly, she was fine with not talking about it just yet. She wasn’t sure where they go from here. Did Jensen want to see her again? If so, would it be just to sleep together finally, or did he want more?

She didn’t think she wanted to know the answers to those questions. Not yet anyway.

Little did she know, the same questions were running through Jensen’s head. He enjoyed what happened back in his trailer, but sue him if he didn’t want more with her. He wanted to go the full home run with her, but if he was being completely honest, he wanted to see her again and again. He wanted to ask her out and see where they go from there.

He knew he had to take a leap of faith and ask her before she left town, because who knew when she would return.

They were back on the bunker set, this time in the war room to shoot the last scene Y/N would be in. It was interesting that Y/N’s character leaving at the end of the episode was the second last scene they were filming, but that was where it happened to land. It was like it happened organically, which was rare for their set during filming.

Jensen was standing at the head of the map table, Jared next to him as Y/N stood across from them. Video village was set up at the other end of the library, giving them more room in the war room for lighting and boom mics. Things were quiet as they fell into their characters, Y/N slinging the duffle bag over her shoulder, as the assistant director called ‘action’.

“Thanks for your help. We really owe you one,” Jared said as ‘Sam’.

She smiled at him, shaking her head. “You really don’t.”

Jensen gave her that signature ‘Dean Winchester’ look, the one that said he was thinking about how to approach a subject. “You know where to find us if we do.”

“You’re buying the six-pack next time,” she said, chuckling slightly.

“Done,” ‘Dean’ said, smirking at her. She smiled at Jensen, finding that her genuine smile to him seeped into the scene.

“See you boys around,” she said, nodding at them. She turned on her heeled ankle boots, walking towards the staircase. With one glance over her shoulder, she gave them a small wave which they returned. She took the stairs all the way up, hearing the AD call ‘cut’.

“Alright, let’s see,” Jensen muttered as he walked over to video village.

Y/N walked down the stairs and over to the map table and placed the duffle bag on it. She waited to hear whether they would have to do another take or not.

“Alright, check the gate! Moving on!” Jensen called out. “That’s a wrap on Y/N Y/L/N!”

He quickly came out from behind the screens, walking over to her and Jared. All the crew around her clapped, as she gave them a small curtsy, laughing as Jared came over and hugged her.

It wasn’t the usual treatment of guest stars, as they usually came in and did the work and then left but considering there was buzz that her character might make a return, they wanted her to feel at home with all of them. They were kind to people with even the smallest of roles, so Y/N always knew she’d be in safe hands with the Supernatural crew.

Y/N hung around to say goodbye as they shot the last scene between the boys. In that time, she sat with her laptop, hoping she could change her flight to leave in a few days. With luck, she managed to find one leaving Vancouver in 5 days’ time, giving her plenty of time to stick around and explore these feelings she had for the handsome green-eyed actor. She couldn’t wait to tell him.

Given that Jared and Jensen had such a great shorthand with each other, they worked quickly to get the work done. Jensen called a wrap on the episode, and they all congratulated him on the amazing work he did. Everyone began to pack things up, the make-up ladies heading to their trailer as Y/N walked with them. She removed all her make-up, freshened up and then got changed into her clothes she wore to set that morning.

Y/N said her goodbyes to Trish and Frida, followed by the rest of the crew and Bob Singer. Jared swooped in for another big hug, nearly breaking her in half with the pressure of his arms around her.

“Jesus, you don’t know your own strength, you know that?” she said, cringing in slight pain as she turned and twisted, trying to get feeling back in her body.

“Hey, not my fault you can’t handle it,” he laughed, patting her back. “Alright, I’m out of here. I hope I’ll see you soon.”

“Me too,” she smiled, as he enveloped her in a softer but still warm hug. She decided to leave out the fact that she wasn’t going anywhere just yet, wanting to tell Jensen first.

Jared walked towards the parking lot, heading for the SUV that Cliff was waiting by. They were no doubt waiting on Jensen, who had been finishing up some paperwork after wrapping the episode. Y/N slung her bag over her shoulder, walking towards his trailer in search of him. Reaching the door, she knocked a few times and waited. The door opened, a tired but smiling Jensen greeting her.

“Hey,” he smiled, leaning against the door frame.

“So… I have some news,” she told him, a smile playing at her lips.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, his eyebrows raised as he folded his arms across his chest. His arms were exposed thanks to his black t-shirt, and she suddenly felt like her skin was on fire. She tried not to show her disappointment when he put on his jacket and grabbed his backpack, shutting off the light in the trailer as he closed the door.

She nodded, stepping down from the stairs to the trailer and turning to him. “I changed my flight. I’m leaving in 5 days.”

Jensen felt his heart skip a beat with that news. He nodded, the smile growing bigger on his face. “Well… you want to come over tonight? We can pick up where we left off.”

She bit her lip, nodding slowly. “I’d love to.”

Keeping up the pretence that there wasn’t anything going on, Jensen went back home with Cliff driving him to his apartment. Y/N called an Uber, knowing that if she had joined them Jared and Cliff would question what was happening. She and Jensen hadn’t spoken about it, but they both knew that there wasn’t anything to say to anyone until they figured it out themselves. For now, she wanted him in ways she’s never wanted anyone else and she was more than ready to see what he was capable of.

Reaching Jensen’s apartment, Y/N went up to his floor and down the hall, knocking on his door, noting that it was the right one from the text he had sent while she was in the Uber. The door swung open, and she grinned as Jensen smirked at her, letting her in. She took in the apartment, with its beautiful view of the city lights twinkling at night, a large screen TV and comfortable couch, and his guitar on the wall closest to her. However, as nice as it was that wasn’t where her mind was in that moment.

Turning around, Y/N looked at him, his eyes reflecting the same things she was feeling. They moved towards each other, their lips meeting in a rough, but sensual kiss as they wrapped their arms around each other. Pushing and pulling at each other’s clothes, their lips continued to move against each other, not wanting to stop.

“Thank god you changed your flight,” he mumbled against her swollen lips. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked, grabbing his shoulders and jumping up, wrapping her legs around his waist.

His hands immediately supported her as he carried her off to his bedroom.

By the time they came up for air, the sun was rising, and Jensen had to leave to go to work for the first day of the next episode. With a promise of returning later that day, he told Y/N to stay at his apartment, telling her she could use whatever she wanted before he had to leave.

As she stood on the balcony and looked out at the view with her morning coffee, she had never been more thankful to a job she had taken. She made some great friends already, there was a buzz that she may come back for more episodes, and she had met the most incredible man who she couldn’t wait to explore more with.

She found herself repeating Jensen’s words from the night before as she smiled into her morning cup of caffeine.

Thank god she changed her flight.

-x-

If you’re crossed out, I couldn’t tag you :(

Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @downanddirtydean @jensengirl83 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @flamencodiva @ellewritesfix05 @roonyxx @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @superaveng @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @prettyboyswow @lunarmoon8 @supernatural-bellawinchester

#spnkinkbingo #spnaubingo #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen x female!reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles one shot #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles fanfiction #director!jensen #actor!reader #supernatural one shot #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction

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gisachi · 3 years

Note

Hi ^^ I know that your requests are now closed but I was thinking that, given you have written jealous Shinichi, I would very much enjoy some jealous Ran! Maybe you can mix it with one of the prompts? Just throwing the idea out there, no pressure. Delete this if you don't feel like it, it's okay really. Thank you for writing these amazing fics, the shinran fandom is in your debt. ❤️

So this is the last (!!!) and longest (!!!) of the kiss prompts, and I dedicate it to multiple-requests Anon and to this Anon. I hope both of you still see this. It took me a while. ^^;;

P.S. Special thanks to @artycreaty for keeping this in check. You are awesome. 🥰

41. Kisses shared under an umbrella. 46. A lingering kiss before a long trip apart. (6,489 words)

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She has hundreds of reasons not to. They’re merely childhood best friends. Life would be much easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven. Shinichi absolutely doesn’t look at her that way. And so forth.

She wonders why they’re even friends in the first place. If their parents hadn’t enrolled them in the same kindergarten, she was certain they wouldn’t even be on speaking terms. He lives in a world of grisly books and crimes, she in a world of martial and visual arts. Their hobbies don’t overlap. They excel in different fields. They enter the same university with completely unrelated majors. The only bond they have in common is their shared history. Literally bonded since they were four, until now at nineteen.

So when she sees him all jolly around his newfound circle who hold the same interest in Holmes or detective work, it shouldn’t surprise her as much. It’s part of university life, it’s normal, they expand their horizons, and Ran understands that it hits much differently when they bond with people who like the same stuff they do. Something she’s aware they cannot share a hundred percent.

She’s proud of him, and she absolutely has no right to feel jealous, especially when she sees him around taller, prettier, more interesting women from his course block. There is no reason for her to look away with a heavy weight in her chest everytime the women get giggly and touchy while he’s absorbed in narrating his stories.

Everytime she does, she reminds herself of how he didn’t seem to mind when she was casted as the protagonist of their high school play and the leading man was the handsome Araide-sensei. Or how he simply shrugged when she fawned over the brother of a classmate because he looked so much like the karate senpai she was crushing on. Or when she secretly caught Sonoko dragging the detective behind gym after P.E. to confront him about his opinion regarding an upperclassman courting Ran and his only response was, ‘She can like whoever she likes, Sonoko. I’m not her boyfriend.’

He never showed her any sign of jealousy, therefore he must not be into her. Simple as that. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him differently. Getting snarky just because he received sixteen new fan mails again, more now that they’re in uni, and two even coming from the popular criminology seniors he is often teased to? Or ignoring him unprecedentedly just because his eyes followed the back of a woman with long chestnut hair and voluptuous curves? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s bound to be attracted to someone else. This is a pill she ought to learn to swallow eventually.

Eventually.

“Shinichi-kun, you never told us about your scariest case yet, tell us about it?”

Kaori closes her notes and so do the other two girls across her, and Shinichi’s eyes twinkle. He truly seems to enjoy study sessions with the little group they made consisting of some of his and Ran’s coursemates because they love listening to his stories.

“At the top of my head is this murderer disguised as a bandaged man, and he targeted us one by one…” and so the detective drones. Ran pauses typing and reminisces quietly. Ah, that one from summer three years ago. I was almost injured by that crazy man during my sleep but Shinichi woke me up in time.

“Ran-san,” Shun, her friend and coursemate, mutters beside her, also stopping his typing to listen to the detective’s story. “It’s ridiculous how popular Kudou-kun is with the girls. He’s full of wild adventures.”

“Yes, he is,” Ran says, smiling. “He’s been a girl magnet ever since high school.”

She watches as Kaori inches closer to Shinichi, listening attentively, chin on her palm and flirtatious smile on her lips as the detective rants on and on.

For the third time that afternoon, Ran looks away.

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She does, everyday, but it’s hard when he smiles at her, cares for her, holds her in a way she’s never seen him do for anyone else. It gives her hope every time the girls cling to him but he never touches them back, whereas he automatically slings his arm over her shoulder because she’s afraid or cold or he simply feels like it.

Then again, maybe she’s giving herself too much credit. Perhaps it’s a free pass for being around him for too long. She even gets to spend time with him during weekends and holidays. It isn’t special because it’s normal.

And that’s all she’ll ever be, a normal girl in his eyes.

“Ran? She’s pretty special.”

Ran reacts to the mention of her name and catches Shinichi looking at her. “She appears quiet but she can kick anyone’s ass without breaking a sweat. It’s bad if you cross her,” Shinichi gloats with a grin.

“Oh my god, really? We can bring her with us then!” Kaori claps her hands in excitement.

“Ah... But she won’t like that,” he follows up, wary. Ran has missed the topic they were talking about and now she’s curious.

“But ghosts aren’t real and Mouri-san can give them a good beating!”

“Gh-Ghosts?” The color in her cheeks drains, eyes freezing at Shinichi who has probably already expected that reaction, for he sports that same look of concern as those times he had expressed whenever she joined him in his way-past-bedtime elementary school adventures.

“We’ll investigate an abandoned house I always pass by walking home,” Kaori explains. “Last night I saw a faint cigarette light at the second floor window. It might be a fugitive or a homeless person or a ghost, who knows?”

“You don’t need to come if you don’t want to, Ran,” Shinichi assures.

Gulping, Ran contemplates whether going with them will do her any good. It’s a nice change, it’s been a while since she last tagged with Shinichi in his cases. But she isn’t exactly proud of shrieking like a little kid in front of serious criminology majors who may feel like she’ll drag their covert investigation down if she joins.

“...I’ll pass,” she answers meekly, and his coursemates sulk except Shinichi, who offers her a smile of understanding.

“Man, I thought we’ll be able to see Mouri-san in action!”

“That’s ok, maybe next time. We still have Shinichi-kun!”

“Shinichi-kun will protect us, ne?”

“Hah. Right. Invite Hakuba too, use him.”

“Oh c’mooon, Shinichi-kun!”

Ran closes her eyes, struggling to zone their voices out.

In her silence, Ran ponders if she has made a wrong choice.

Ran has no right to be jealous. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him this way.

The following weekend, Shinichi narrates what happened in their late-night investigation. Hakuba wasn’t there so Shinichi was the only available guy as usual. Ran refuses to hear any more details, both of the haunted house and secretly of the girls chancing onto him during the investigation. Shinichi is puzzled.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, just swamped with work.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to assist?”

“No.”

Her replies are curt from the couch of his house, not looking at Shinichi on the other end as she mindlessly cleans up her digital sketches. She hates how snappy she sounds but her brain is too absorbed with conjuring spiteful imaginations to even think of masking her annoyance.

“Ran, hey. Look at me.”

His low voice freezes her from drawing, and she slowly looks up to meet Shinichi’s serious eyes.

When this happens, she knows he’s reading her. She inwardly chants a prayer because now isn’t a good time. Whatever time isn’t a good time. She doesn’t know what to say when she’s aware everything she’s been feeling is irrational and unfair. She’s being selfish.

“You’re… stressed.”

“No, I’m… Eh?”

He scoots closer, an arm’s length away. “Your dark circles are more prominent now, you need a break.” His eyes turn a soft blue. “Let’s have dinner out? My treat.”

Ran is surprised, to say the least. The last time he invited her out was two weeks ago. She’s become so used to seeing him around others that any initiative from him sounds too good to be true.

“But I need to finish this project by tonight.”

“Let’s have food delivery then!” Shinichi announces, not rattled by Ran’s indirect refusal. “I know exactly what you want. Ramen and shaved ice.”

Her eyes thin at the absurdly goofy expression she knows he makes when he’s being mischievous. “Clearly you’re ordering that ramen for yourself. I only like shaved ice.��

“Damn! Miss Detective gets it.” A mile-wide grin stretches across his face, earning an eye roll from the half-smiling woman. “Let’s eat together on your short break, please?”

He leans within a respectful distance and she sees his smile better, pair of kind eyes locking with her overworked ones. “It’s been a while.”

Her heart throbs for him. So much.

She caves - of course she does - and breathes her acquiescence.

After two long weeks, they have dinner together, just them and Shinichi’s ramen and Ran’s donburi and shaved ice, Shinichi taking a spoonful of dessert from the cup when she isn’t looking and Ran snatching a slurp from his take-out bowl and laughing when he catches her.

With how heartfelt his laughter is in her presence devoid of any mysteries, Ran knows she’s probably giving herself too much credit, but for once she wants to believe she is the cause of why Shinichi’s happy.

Just for that night, she gives it to herself.

She’ll change the dark colors of her digital artwork to brighter ones after they eat.

Despite everything, Ran finds it difficult to contain her recurring jealousy.

The more she shares precious time with him, the more it gets harder to suppress the selfish emotions. What is so unsatisfying about being the best friend is that she is only the best friend. No more no less. At the end of the day, she isn’t the one he gets to cuddle with, to tease then kiss, to tell ‘I love you’ to, romantically.

“I love you.”

Ran feels her heart about to leap out of her chest.

“But please. Stop. Tearing. The. Cushions!”

The little furball he has scooped underneath a throw pillow wiggle from his grasp. The kitten and detective engage in a brief staring showdown before it jumps away to hide under a farther couch.

Snapping out of reverie, Ran watches her childhood friend slink dejectedly onto the partly scratched furniture. He’s fortunate enough that his mother isn’t around to give him a long lecture on Why Pets Aren’t Allowed in the House 101. She can always take Yukiko-san’s role and reprimand him for it, but as for this and the cat, she finds herself not wanting to intervene.

“Kaori-san sure is taking her time with her parent’s permission. By the time she does, Momo would’ve shredded all the pillows in this house.”

“You named the cat?” Ran asks, amused.

“She did.” He thinks for a moment, then sniggers. “Actually I did. I suggested a random name. She took it.”

Ran merely hums. What can she say? They’re getting close. Close enough to team up as parents to an adopted kitten.

“I’m surprised you also agreed to keep Momo when you never took in animals before.”

“Kaori said she’ll treat me to the latest Detective Samonji movie this weekend if I do. Can’t resist that.”

“Just you two?”

“Yeah.”

A beat. Then he turns to her.

“Wanna join? I can ask her to count you in since you’re kinda helpi—”

“N-no need,” Ran quips, “It’s—It’s fine.”

“No really,” Shinichi insists, “Kaori-san has a lot of money, she—”

“I’m going to Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum with Shun-san this weekend... so... I can’t.”

“Ah.”

Silence.

“It’s, um, for a project,” she bolsters.

“I know.” The faintest smile graces his lips. “It’s your thing. Both of you.”

“Mm.”

He doesn’t say anything else after that.

“Shinichi, you’re a detective, right?” she blurts out of the blue.

“Yeah...and?”

Then deduce what I feel. Here and now.

“Then you’re going to enjoy that movie!” Ran forces a beam, giving Shinichi a thumb of approval. “And you can discuss it with Kaori-san over dinner. I’m sure you two have a lot to say about it.”

Shinichi’s eyes linger on her, reading her like a book, and Ran has her mind reeling again, afraid to be read.

“Yeah, we do,” he finally says, ending the conversation.

Only a few words are uttered the rest of the afternoon.

Momo resurfaces and curls beside Shinichi.

Momo’s purring is loud, but Ran’s shattering heart is louder.

Ran must not feel jealous. She is not a girlfriend.

Because she isn’t a girlfriend, he’s free to fall for and date anyone else. Who is she to gatekeep him? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s one big catch. Ran believes she’s a big catch, too. With the way she loves dearly, her future boyfriend is going to be very lucky.

Her future boyfriend is not going to be him.

“...mber the required fieldwork in one of my majors I told you? We actually go by batches. The first batch did theirs last month. The second batch was last week… and I— Ran, are you listening?”

“Ah! Yes,” Ran notices they have already reached her station and are now walking two blocks to her apartment. “Your fieldwork, right?”

“...Yeah,” he carries on. “I’m in the last batch... This whole winter break.”

“I see, I understand.” She smiles, getting what he means. No Christmas or New Year’s Eve together. The first time since they’re four. It’s fine, honestly. If it’s a required activity, then there’s really no way to go about it. She isn’t going to lash out just because she can’t be with him in her most favorite time of the year.

“And Hattori-kun and Hakuba-kun will be with you?”

“Hattori did his last month. Hakuba is in the previous batch. I’ll be stuck with the girls.”

Ran’s heart momentarily squeezes. “Where will your fieldwork be?”

“In Akita.”

Her pupils constrict. “That far?”

“Yes... so to cut on expenses, Kaori-san offered her house for me and the others to stay while we’re there—”

Kaori. Again with the tall, beautiful, intelligent Kaori. She bets it’s amazing to spend the holidays doing what he loves and with Kaori beside her, snuggling with him by the fireplace in a romantic snowy night and she might even confess, and it’ll be a great catch for Shinichi, and he’ll return with a girlfriend, and—

“Kaori-san is lucky.” The words flow out of her mouth, unbridled.

Shinichi looks at her. “Lucky?”

Ran remains quiet and keeps walking. It’s dangerous to say anything. She only has one thing in her mind and she doesn’t want to say it out loud. She has no right.

“Ran, hey.”

She doesn’t stop walking.

“Ran.”

She ignores his call.

“Ran… you’re jealous.”

She stops walking.

“Excuse me?”

“...You’re jealous…” Shinichi repeats quietly.

A contrast to his calm tone, his irises beset hers in the cold twilight and Ran attempts to shield herself but her bag and umbrella are in the way. She thinks of turning away but her feet are frigid like icicles, and Shinichi steps closer.

For the third time, he declares, “You’re jealous.”

Hearing her thoughts echo through his words renders her speechless.

It seems to take a moment before Shinichi’s brow arches, lips curl up as his eyes refuse to stray, and she hears a faint exhale even, like he’s exasperated, and suddenly he’s smiling - or is he smirking? sneering? - and...and...

It stings, is her immediate reaction.

For the longest time, she’d wanted him to take a hint. But if she had known this was how he’d react, she’d rather live a life having him oblivious of her emotional struggle. Dealing with that is more tolerable than witnessing him gaze her down in blatant mockery. He sneers as though he’s about to crack a joke and move on and forget such a laughable matter. That’s the last form of acknowledgment she wants for her honest feelings.

Heartbreak and shame and pain build up in her chest like a volcano closing eruption. Water begins to cloud her vision. She clenches her fist tight on her umbrella and Shinichi notices, and he takes another step forward.

“Ran…?”

“I am not, and you’re a fool.”

In a span of a breath, she’s sprinting in the opposite direction, tracing the path where they have walked, ignoring the distant yells of her name behind her. She runs and runs, and as she runs farther, with her thoughts muddy and breath short and dry, she wonders if she may have overreacted.

If he’s done that on purpose, screw him. If not, screw her.

After all, they are merely friends and she has no logical reason to act this way.

“Stop... running... will you!”

She hears heavy footsteps close in. It takes all the energy Ran has to prevent herself from turning her body around but his strong grip overpowers her.

“Let me go!”

“Why are you running?!”

“I can’t...deal with you!”

“Why? Was I right?”

“Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter!”

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

“Because I am your best friend!”

On another occasion, she would’ve successfully jilted away and run farther, but Ran is floored when he yanks her into a one-armed hug, so floored she drops her umbrella to the snowy ground.

“Stop saying that!” he hisses in her ear, frustration apparent.

“What are you— Let me go!”

He hugs her tighter.

“If you don’t let go in three seconds, I will screa—”

“I am happy!”

Ran stops struggling, eyes widening in shock.

Icy huffs tickle her neck as he half shouts, “I’m happy you feel that way!”

“You’re...You’re happy because I’m suffering?”

“What? No! I—”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? How?” The hurt in her tone is impeccable, prattling muffled against his chest as she spares him no moment to butt in. “You think I wanted to feel this? That I enjoy griping in helpless jealousy? And you’re rejoicing that I am? How full of yourself can you be?!”

“That’s not...You don’t underst—”

“I do understand! I understand that I am so incredibly stupid for catching this disgusting heap of emotions for an obnoxious, stuck-up deduction maniac that is my best friend and maybe it’s better after all that he never, ever sees me the way I see him!”

“Stop saying that, Ran!”

She thinks he has broken away, but he drags her back with an insistent tug, crashing his lips onto hers as she stumbles into his arms.

All willpower rippling through her disintegrates quickly like snow in high heat.

An impatient pop resonates as he separates, eyes slowly opening, breath thick and ragged.

“I know that is not how we explain things, but does that explain anything?”

She hears it. The madness. But more than madness, yearning bleeds through his voice so much that her frustration turns into physical pain. Blinded by an all-consuming ache, she tips her chin and presses her lips back against his, demanding for cure in the wrong place. Shinichi freezes, then relaxes. He moves his hand to her nape, four fingers in her hair, thumb treading her jaw.

They look like a scene in a movie.

Under his umbrella and hidden from view, they communicate through brushing lips and tilting heads. His mouth closing over hers with gentle force, her hands splaying across his chest, heavy with something that makes his heart pound under them.

She is so lost in the chase and his tender embrace that for a second she forgets she is kissing her best friend.

Best friend.

This doesn’t explain anything. It worsens it.

She pulls back, ending what she has so recklessly started. “N-no, I’m— No.”

She pushes him away, gathers the stuff she drops, and runs without looking back.

“Ran!”

He shouts her name. Twice.

On the third call, his footfalls die down. On the fourth, he stops running.

She doesn’t.

Thirty minutes before midnight, Ran stands outside his gate, boots buried half foot under the snow as she rings his intercom for the second time, thinking to herself how foolish she must be to cut communications with him for a week and then show up his doorstep looking miserable like a stood-up date.

It’s the start of winter break.

He’ll leave for Akita in ten hours.

She needs to give his Christmas present before his departure.

She’s crazy, pathetic, still frustrated, and hurtfully in love.

“Oi. You better have a good explanation for why you’re buzzing at goddamn midnig—”

“Shinichi.”

His surprised gasp is apparent even through the intercom. A rustle follows and with a croaky voice, he responds. “...Ran.”

Surely he isn’t expecting this. Not after the tantrum she threw days ago. He probably thinks she hates him more than ever. But what she truly feels is more overwhelming than all negative emotions combined, and may god grant her all the strength to address it all, tonight.

“May I come in?”

“The house is—The house is a mess I, um. I’m packing my stuff for...”

“I’ll help you.”

“...”

She’ll understand if he decides to turn her down. But the answer that follows the deafening pause is a low and quiet ‘Okay’.

Despite psyching herself hours before she came, courage wanes when he opens the front door and gate in his pullovers. She is welcomed in, and the trip up his room is wordless. Shinichi only talks when he points out that he’s already packed clothes for two days and will need help for two weeks’ worth. He lamely laughs when he instructs her to pick the tops and layers, and he’ll take care of the pants and underwear.

On a normal instance, she would’ve humored him and they would’ve been talking right after. Now she simply pulls an empty smile and then they fall back into silence.

She supposes he’s trying to act unbothered, to treat what happened a week ago as a one-and-done glitch in their friendship, never to be discussed again. She cannot fault him when she’s trying to do the same. But it’s not easy when in the stillness of the night the echo of their altercation howls, raging persistently in their ears.

What has he been thinking of for the past week?

Has he been kept up all night by the words she said and the words he left unspoken?

Are they still friends? Will they still be friends after this?

The kiss... What about the kiss?

So many questions. So little words. So little time.

Ran is seated on the floor, folding shirts and stuffing them neatly in his duffel bag. Her back faces Shinichi who is sorting out bottoms in his cabinet. She senses him sit on the floor, back against her but not touching. Neither dares to speak first.

A ringing phone cuts the silence.

“Mm, still awake. Good for two weeks right? Gotcha. No, I’ll meet you girls at the station, no need to fetch me. Pfft. I can walk. Ok, see you tomorrow.”

If Ran wasn’t so hyperaware of where she is and what she’s done, her mood would’ve shifted to the one she’d been trying to avoid. Now isn’t the time to think about that. Midnight sneaking out to go to his house is something she wouldn’t do even on good days. She scans her bag on the far couch, deliberately bringing a bigger one to hide his gift. Maybe she can just sneak it in his bag and leave once she’s done and he’ll discover it only when he’s prefectures away. Brown has always suited him, and he’ll definitely find the overcoat useful as spare protective gear.

That’s right. She always cares for him like this. She is his best friend first, and... and nothing second.

“Don’t just leave after putting your present in my bag. At this hour, I can’t let you walk home alone,” he says swiftly.

Ran’s eyes fly wide.

“How did you…”

He doesn’t say anything and continues with his business.

Again with the throat-drying silence.

Something in Ran’s gut compels her to speak, but she is surprised when he does first.

“I... I don’t like Kaori-san. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ran stiffens, pausing mid-motion from folding. “I’m not…”

He leans his back completely against her and she shudders, voice reverberating through her skin. “Ran, if you could just hear me out.”

Unable to talk and move, she does.

“Kaori-san and the rest... They know I love mysteries. They know I want to build my own private detective agency. They know my favorite Holmes’ story is The Sign of Four. They know how many crimes I solved in Tokyo. All the information about me which anyone can read from the internet and newspaper and from what I told them when they ask, they know. Ran, you know all that. All that and more.”

He angles his head to the ceiling as if he’s talking to someone there. Ran supports his weight, curling to her knees as she silently listens.

“You know of my first ever deduction because Christ, my first deduction was about you. You know of the two cases which haunt me until this day because I watched the culprit die in front of my very eyes. You were with me the nights I locked myself in here thinking about them. You know of the interesting, the boring, the absurd cases, everything, because I told you or you were there. You know of the odd way I play the violin while I ponder over a case. You know I forget to eat when swamped with new books to read. I have three copies of The Sign of Four but the one I keep beside my bed and read almost weekly is the one you gave me on my tenth birthday and that is all I need. You know me for me, Ran. Everything about me that is off the record, the good and the bad, you know all of those. Only you. The same way I do... about you.”

She feels him crane slightly to the side, addressing her.

“Ran.”

“Mm.”

“I love you.”

Ran’s heart almost completely stops beating.

“I love you,” he whispers, “more than I am even supposed to.”

All words seem to have fizzled out of her vocabulary as she sits still, stunned at what she’s hearing.

“I’m happy growing up with you, studying with you, bickering with you, acting stupid with you, investigating with you, eating with you, napping with you, hugging you, holding you, taking care of you, simply... being with you. Before I know it, it’s not the cases or Holmes or mysteries that complete my days, it’s you.

“For you to keep repeating that ��best friend’ phrase, I…” He lowers his head.

“For who knows how long, I’ve loved you as that and more.”

Someone pinch her because in no way can this be real.

“I was happy thinking you’re jealous because it meant a sliver of chance you feel the same way. We could’ve remedied the misunderstanding easily, Ran. We could’ve talked it over like we always do. But I was stupid and emotions were high and in the end I… kissed you…” he takes another deep breath, “But—but you kissed me back, and my heart couldn’t stay still...”

Pulse drumming loud, Ran tilts her head on the side where he leans, wanting to see the slightest expression he makes as he continues.

“If my deductions are wrong and you’re mad for a different reason, and—and you returned that for a different reason...” she hears the pang of remorse in his tone, “then please forget I ever said anything and I’ll leave myself to die in humiliation once I’m out of your sight.”

He lays one palm flat on the floor and she notices.

“But if my deductions are right and you were indeed jealous, I...” She feels his head swivel enough to feel his warm breath fan across her cheek, before shifting back front and releasing a slow, guttural exhale he’s kept contained within.

“I’ll wait... until you accept it. Accept me.”

Ran may have choked on her throat for how long she’s held her breath.

In spite of herself, she knows she doesn’t need to think of what to say. She had it all in her head before coming here. Yet expressing it out loud is a different matter.

She isn’t ready, but when will she ever be ready? Shinichi undoubtedly isn’t too. Yet here he is, laying the groundwork for her, no holds barred and a stuttering mess at that. How she plans to build from it is the question she asks herself next.

Inhaling as though bracing herself, she places a hand beside him, pinky slightly grazing his.

“I didn’t... You never showed any signs.”

Careful and calm, he extends his little finger over hers. She doesn’t flinch, and both hands crawl closer until two fingers overlap.

“Either I’m a great pretender or you’re incredibly dense.”

“I’m...I’m not dense.”

“I’m a bad actor, then.” He slides his hand further.

“I was trying so hard to be a supportive best friend for you.”

“I sensed that but ignored it because I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“You did though. Now we’re here.”

“Would you rather we aren’t?”

“I would rather we spend the last weeks of this year talking like normal than being stupid idiots before you leave.”

“It’s just two weeks, Ran.”

“Two special weeks I would’ve wanted to spend with my best frien-... with you.”

Without knowing it, his hand has completely nestled atop hers, four fingers curled between her thumb and index finger.

“Ran... You must really hate the idea of falling in love with me.”

“Eh?”

“You’re so wrapped with the thought that we’re simply best friends that you hold your love in chains as though it isn’t permitted to grow.”

“I… I didn’t want to ruin the only connection we have-”

“Two friends falling in love are still friends… They are also more. You cannot ruin an indefeasible connection. Friendship and love may be the only bond we have, but they’re the most important bond of all.”

Ran falls quiet.

“Geez…”

He releases a thick sigh, brushes his thumb across her splayed fingers.

“I have shit art appreciation skills, but I can take you to museums too... as a friend and as a date.” A beat, and a mumble. “Even to better museums than Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum.”

She darts her head sideways, realizing something.

“Were you also…?”

“No.”

Ran doesn’t suppress the heartfelt giggle that bubbles out.

“Shun-san has a boyfriend, Shinichi.”

“I—” he pauses. “I wasn’t asking.” Ran giggles more.

“Shinichi.”

“Yes.”

“I love you too.”

The hand above squishes hers all too suddenly like he’s been blown away and is needing something to hold onto.

“I came here to give your present and to apologize for being so shallow and for acting without thinking and for a lot of things actually... but now I feel there’s no need, because then I wouldn’t have...” She looks down at their intertwined hands.

Before she can return his squeeze, he recoils.

“Oh, y-you do apologize. Running away like that.” He coughs, and she can practically hear the tripping in his tone.

“Aren’t you already used to it? I’ve done it many times,” she chides.

“No. Apologize,” he insists. “And look at me while you do.”

Ran’s stomach twists, heart kicking up a step.

It’s easy to talk without eye contact, but to be requested so after confessions are exchanged—

“Face me, Ran.”

The familiar voice of yearning strums her heartstrings, tone sounding a lot like a plea than an order and Ran finds her head instinctively craning at an angle, hand coiling on the floor trying to calm her nervous beating heart. She feels him shift behind as well.

She takes all her time to face him, partly unsure what to do, partly knowing exactly what she wants to do. Despite the deliberate slowness of their movements, it is when they lock eyes that time truly seems to stop.

Shinichi appears so different, so soulful. His blue irises glimmering, fixated on nothing but her as she reveres him with matching intensity. The same guy she treats as her best friend looks at her with tender love in his eyes, darting down her lips and up like no best friend ever would.

“I love you,” he says, breathless. “Make me your boyfriend.”

A wave of emotion sweeps over her, heartbeat fluttering in overdrive as they huddle on the floor, bags and clothes and time forgotten.

“From best friend to... such a shift-”

“Nothing will be different.” He rests his forehead on hers, gaze of soft blue patient though more intimate now, knowing what they share is mutual. “We’ll still do what we do... With exclusive romantic commitment and sweet nothings that translate to ‘I love you’ in more ways than one.”

She attempts a jab on his chest but he catches her fist, soft but jesting beam all too apparent and she does but play along.

“What about when we fight?” she asks.

“Same. But...” he slides a thumb over her quiet lips, parting them slightly, “I can do this once we make up.”

“...Like right now?”

“Like right now.”

A genuine smile is the last thing she sees before delicate pair of lips lands on hers, capping their one-week fight and their last night of the year together in the best and most unexpected way imaginable.

Ran keeps telling herself she shouldn’t be jealous.

Not because they are simply best friends, because they aren’t. Not because life would be easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven, because it wouldn’t.

Not because Shinichi doesn’t look at her that way, because he does.

She shouldn’t be jealous because she absolutely has no reason to, is all.

“I haven’t forgotten about your present. I was planning to buy yours in Akita.”

“Stop lying, you totally forgot it.”

“I didn’t. Stop that.” Half-mast eyes rake her side profile, and Ran covers a mirthful grin with her mitted hand holding the umbrella, then yawns. Hours of packing and talking and laughing left them with roughly four hours of sleep. It isn’t like she slept the whole period because while sleeping in his room isn’t new, cuddling while they sleep is. Ran couldn’t simply shut her eyes and heart to that.

“I believe though,” he wraps a hand around her free one, pocketing both of them in his brand new overcoat, “I gave half of my present already.”

“Hnn. That doesn’t count as a gift.” Her hand shifted, coddling his own to a warm fit.

“Really?” A smug smirk pulls up his face. “I believe I am a nice present, Ran. That’s why they—”

“Screw this. You are unbelievable. A humbug. Why do people like you.”

“I know. Why do you like me?” Shinichi laughs as he avoids the swing of her umbrella.

From afar, they see Kaori and the girls at the meet-up point outside Tokyo Station, though they seem unaware of their presence yet. Suddenly feeling conscious, Ran feels the urge to disentangle her hand, but Shinichi holds on, firm.

“Why?” He asks in a low voice.

“I dunno… maybe this isn’t the best time…”

“Isn’t now the best time?” His smile is proud and natural, not one ounce of reluctance visible.

Although she gets what he means, that doesn’t free her of shyness and guilt. Somehow she feels like apologizing to Kaori for… she doesn’t know. She just wants to. Letting her see them like this makes her think that she’s giving her an indirect slap on the face. Shinichi certainly won’t agree because ‘What’s with women and their logic?’, but still, whether or not it’s all in her head, Ran needs more time to prepare for this.

But to her surprise, Shinichi lets go of her hand. They are still a few feet from view when he steps in front of her and turns around. “Maah, fine, I get it,” he huffs, then smiles. “Then, just give me your umbrella.”

The moment she does, Shinichi closes their distance and dips his face onto hers. Ran is given no leeway to gasp as loving lips seal her quiet. It isn’t as long as what they shared a week ago, but the emotions are loaded and full, speaking fond thanks and temporary farewell.

She doesn’t realize she has closed her eyes until he separates, and she’s met with the most tender, most angelic expression he wears only on the rarest occasions. He’s saying without telling that her feelings are valid, she doesn’t have to worry, and he doesn’t have eyes for anyone but her. Somehow, the snow is the sea and fish are swarming around but neither cares because they have already caught each other.

“You don’t have to, silly.” Three layers of pink blanket Ran’s puffy cheeks.

“But I want to.” Grinning, Shinichi hands her back the umbrella. “You don’t like hand-holding. You don’t like being seen. Don’t you think that’s a great compromise?”

“Idiot, many people saw...”

“No, they didn’t!” Upping the duffel bag slung on his shoulder, he steps back and gives her one last goofy beam. “I’ll see you next year, Ran. I’ll call as often as I can.”

Wordlessly, Ran watches Shinichi’s back as he jogs to his waiting companions, who by then have already had their eyes pinned on the approaching figure.

“That is Shinichi-kun! ...And Mouri-san!”

“Ehhh!!?! You’re a thing!”

So much for being subtle, Ran flushes inwardly as she returns the wave the other girls are giving her. At that moment she really does feel immature for her past conduct. All of them are sweet. Even Kaori.

“I knew it Shinichi-kun! Mouri-san is sooo lucky, I’m so jealous!” Ran hears their banter and sees her jab his bicep before acknowledging her. “We’ll take care of him, Mouri-san!”

The Ran from one week ago would’ve had her heart crushed by such declaration, but now she’s nothing but pleased and the smile that forms across her lips is nothing but honest. “Make sure he doesn’t drag your group into a random dead body, Kaori-san!”

“Hey!” surfaces Shinichi’s shout amidst the mincing laughter of the group and the onlooking passers-by, and Ran bids her last wave before they enter the station.

Smiling to herself, Ran returns home, the lingering promise of his kiss committed to memory, knowing that she doesn’t have to get jealous because she has no reason to. Their indefeasible bond is all the assurance she needs.

#shinran #kiss prompts #fanfic #lmk anon(s) if you see this and if you do then yaaay #thank you for requesting!#and thank you for reading!#:')#I have a love-hate relationship with this fic #it's only supposed to be 4 scenes #oh well it is what it is lmao #it's ok ig since this is the last (awww) from the kiss prompts!#😌#I tried so hard with a jealous Ran haha #jealous fics are good reads but writing them is hard :O

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xmyshya · 3 years

Text

Soft

summary: I am a firm believer that Atsumu CAN be soft. When he wants to. And now he just might. genre: fluff, crack, smut warnings: fem!reader, soft Atsumu, sexual tension, making love at the end, MINORS DNI special thanks: HQHQ and our lovely Atsumu sessions, you guys gave me so much inspiration for the last part. I love you. I love you all. a/n: I don’t want to say that I’m proud of this one, but I am. wc: 2.7k

Looking at the friend sitting across the table in the quiet corner of this adorable cafe, you can’t help but think how crazy it has been. Mostly because he’s an idiot, but you LOVE that idiot. “Y/N? Are ya even listenin’?” “Uhh… yes?” “What were ya thinkin’ ‘bout so hard anyway?” “Okay, uhm, remember when…”

The gym was huge and offered a lot of equipment, half of it having names you’d never heard before. The only problem? It was constantly crowded. Except for crazy early hours, which is why you were dressed in your tracksuit and drenched at 5 am. Yet, you were still not alone at this ungodly time. On the first day, he visibly hesitated before entering, clearly wanting absolutely no company. You couldn’t really blame him, he was probably followed by throngs of fans and paparazzi every day. The man must have deemed you harmless however, because he stayed. Well, at the other end of the enormous room, but stayed. He came back on the next day. And next one. And another, and soon enough you were nodding at each other in a silent greeting. This odd ritual continued on for a few weeks, until… “Hey, ya… come here often?” Fuckfuckfuck, he was still sporting the smug smile, though his eyes were filled with panic. You stared at him dumbfounded. Guess even celebrities struggle sometimes. “Uhh… I… N-no, this is my first time.” Both of you erupted in laughter. “Miya Atsumu, nice to meet ya.” “Oh yeah, I know.” He raised an eyebrow. “I mean… L/N Y/N, nice to meet you too”

“D’ya really gonna rub it in ma face til the end of ma life?” “Nah, I’m pretty sure I’ll forget when I’m old, so I gotta make use of it till I can.” The blonde doesn’t look happy. Amusing. “So what were you talking about?” “Oh right, so there’s gonna be a party for the team and friends, and… uhh… would you like to… be my plus one?” Of course you would like to. Love to. “Lemme know what colours ya wanna wear.” “Ehh? You wanna match or something?” There is a teasing undertone in your question. He either misses it or ignores. “I’ve always wanted to do that…” But you already know. Black and gold, the colours of his team. Yes, obviously that’s the only reason. It’s completely unrelated to your current imaginations of Atsumu looking smoking hot in a black fitted suit, black shirt, and matte gold tie. Totally not.

You’re still adding final touch ups, when the doorbell rings through the air. “Open!” In response there’s a click of the door, opening and closing, and Atsumu announces his arrival with a sigh saying why aren’t ya ready yet. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” You shift from your bedroom to the hall, and he whistles. Sharply. You know you look good in that black dress, hugging tightly all your curves (extra points for a deep notch on the back and thin golden chains), and golden heels. And now, he knows it too. Just like you assumed, he does look great. So great, that the only image filling your head as your eyes run down and up on him is how much you want to rip that suit off of him. Party? You’d rather have a one-on-one party against the wall he’s leaning on. Or a kitchen counter. Or a sofa. Shower maybe? “Are ya checkin’ me out?” Again that smug look on his face. You really want to wipe it off. With your lips. “Must be your imagination.” You push him out of the apartment and lock the door.

One of the greatest mysteries of this world must be why elevator scenes are so… weird. Weirdly hot. You’re both on the opposite ends of the tiny cube, ogling each other and turning your gaze away. “Ya really look beautiful.” “Thank you.” Silence. “You look great too. Perfect ten.” You look him straight in the eyes, and if you have the timing right… “Very fuckable.” Ding and the door opens. You brush his chest while walking out. Atsumu forgets to leave the elevator.

Party hall is already swarming with people when you arrive. Faces from magazine covers flash here and there, some of them entertaining whoever wants to listen, some whispering mysterious promises in eager ears, some just roaming around in search of god knows what. “I’ll get us some drinks” is one of those promises, and Atsumu leaves your side. He’s quickly replaced by one of those roaming creatures. “You here alone?” He’s much too close to your liking. “Actually I-” “You’re beautiful. Absolutely stunning. I’m Shugo-” “Meian!” The voice of your companion startles you with its sudden proximity, but also brings comfort. As soon as the drink is passed in your hand, you feel his touch on the small of your back. “Oh, I didn’t know you two were-” “We’re not.” “We’re friends.” Both of your replies come immediately. Meian straightens up and smiles. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I went for her?” “Not like I have any right to stop ya.” Miya says calmly, but you can feel his whole body tense up against yours.

“Alright everyone, we’d like to make a toast…” Clinking of glasses interrupts your surprisingly pleasant conversation with the MSBY captain, but soon enough he’s back to flooding you with questions. Atsumu walks away to join his other teammates. “Please excuse me.” You don’t even look at the male next to you, focused only on catching up with the blond friend. His questioning gaze burns a hole at the side of your head. “I came here with you.” “Is that the only reason?” Your eyes meet and you give him a lopsided grin. “Nah, you’re much hotter.” He stands a little taller, visibly more confident, fuller of himself. His hand finds its way to your hip and he pulls you a little closer.

Next two hours are spent on the dance floor, countless people already pulling you back before you even step outside of the designated area. You’re currently trapped in the arms of none other than Bokuto Koutarou, and you could swear you were swayed by the sheer force of his alone. But you don’t mind, his energy of a nuclear reactor and megawatt smile fully compensate for any inconveniences. The song comes to an end however, and you quickly follow him back to the table. “Ya don’t wanna dance anymore?” Atsumu asks when you settle in your chair, looking for something to replenish your energy. “Why?” “Ya looked so happy on the dance floor. And yet, yer sittin’ here now.” “Were you watching me this closely?” His ears fire up like Christmas lights. “I do.” “Huh?” “I do wanna dance.” For a moment you’re both just staring at each other in silence. Then you notice gears turning slowly in his head, and, at the moment of realisation, a light bulb. “May I please have this dance?” He holds a hand out, and you place yours in it. Atsumu leads you towards the swaying crowd, and then pulls you close. So close, that your bodies could merge. “And the next one too.” He purrs in your ear.

Miya’s breath on your skin is hot and distracting. Does he feel you shiver every time he exhales on your neck? He must, you conclude, since his palm is resting on your bare back. “Ya smell so good…” The whisper caresses your ear, his lips so close, yet so far. “Mmm… you too.” And those lips curl up.

It’s not just this dance. And not just the next one either. Many dances later and you’re still glued to his body, surrounded by a muscular arm, and one hand still in his. The other one playing mindlessly with his undercut. “Looks like Meian found someone to take home t’night.” “Hmm? Did you?” You pull a strand of his hair and lightly scratch his nape. “Do that again and I might get dangerous.” “Maybe I like doing dangerous things?” There’s a movement near your thigh, and you both hope those words carry a promise.

It’s well into the night and people start leaving, but it seems like the blonde is still not ready to let you out of his embrace. You lean your head on his shoulder, forehead right under his jaw, and let him rock you gently to the slow music. With eyes closed, breathing in his scent, it feels almost as if you two were the only people here. “Are ya tired?” You only purr in response. “Lessgo home then. Wanna stay at mine?” “Oya?” “I-i-it’s… not whatcha think… A won’t… won’t touch ya.” “But if you won’t, then what’s the point?” He freezes, agape, and you wonder how the hell someone so hot can become so flustered. “But seriously, I don’t have a change of clothes” which is a lie, because you do have spare panties in your tiny purse “or cosmetics, or-” “I’ll give ya somethin’ to sleep in.”

The door behind you closes with a quiet click. God, it feels so good to finally, finally take these heels off. You put your purse on a drawer right next to the door, and proceed to take your earrings off, placing them neatly in a tiny pouch. “Tsumu? Could you help me with the necklace?” He doesn’t say anything, instead coming behind you and trying to unclasp the piece of jewelry. Trying, because his hands shake. You take a sneak peek at him through the mirror, at his focused face and slightly poked tongue. He’s so adorable. In the meantime you reach to your hair and start removing the pins, but soon your hands are pulled away and replaced with his. It’s surprising but endearing how gentle this giant man can be. You close your eyes and just enjoy the moment, as your strands tickle your nape one by one. And then something hot and wet tickles your neck, right below your ear. Oh. Oh. “A… ‘m sorry, a didn’t mean to…” Nononono, come back here. You grab his tie and pull him down to a kiss, a searing clash of lips, slowly beginning to move against one another. One of his hands caresses your back, right under the edge of your dress, the other one pulls your hair gently making you gasp. His tongue slides along your lips painfully slowly, and you chase it with yours until the tips meet. The feeling is electrifying, sending shivers through your whole body.

Undressing Miya Atsumu is similar to unwrapping a Christmas present you’ve been waiting for for months. Button after button, you reveal more and more of his heavenly sculpted chest and stomach, your lips following the hands. He loves it, the feeling of your wet muscle soothing the bites drives him crazy, little purrs he lets out make his chest vibrate. It’s almost unbearable. He decides he can’t take it anymore when you hook your fingers under his pants and start unzipping them, grazing his cock. He pulls you close, sliding your dress off of you, and letting it pool at your feet. And then drags you to the bathroom, where he rids both of you of your underwear. The man enters the shower, extending his hand to you, and you grab it by instinct, before being pulled right under the stream of steamy water. “‘Tsumu, I’m gonna look like a panda!” “Eh? But pandas are cute tho?” “I’d rather look hot right now” He laughs boyishly, almost innocently, as he pumps some of his face wash and rubs it gently all over your features. His calloused fingertips massage your forehead and temples, while thumbs work on your chin and nose. It fills you with millions of bubbles, cotton candy surrounding your heart as fluffy as the foam. “‘Tsumu?” “Mmm?” “Kiss me.” And he does. At first it’s slow and sweet, but as your hands wash away the evening from the skin, there’s more hunger, more passion. Atsumu pulls and lifts you, throwing you over his shoulder as he walks out of the bathroom. “‘Tsumuuuu! The towels! We’re NOT sleeping in a wet bed!” “Who said anything about sleepin’, princess?”

Idiot.

Bonus scene: “Good morning sunshine.”

He whispers against your forehead after your lashes tickle his neck. His palms embrace your cheeks, and his lips on yours are as soft as summer rain. Pecks become open mouthed kisses, invitations and promises of summer heat. Breaths and sighs remind you of a seaside breeze, carrying the freshness of waves and hotness of sand. Your hands are roaming in search of a buried treasure, but no matter how much they find, it’s not enough. It’s never enough. His mouth ghost over the shells of your ears, spilling words smooth and shiny like pearls, while fingers trail new paths under the veil of your shirt. They discover new lands, gliding along the skin, making it bloom in tiny goosebumps wherever they touch. Kisses and licks flow at the surface of your neck, sealing and sucking over sensitive spots, painting them in pinks, reds, and purples. Big palms cover the hills of your breasts, thumbs sweep over the nipples so gently, that you’re not even sure if you imagined it.

Your naked body shivers underneath his, and arches into his warm embrace, as his lips press silent praises into your skin. You open your eyes, and you don’t know which is brighter - the sunshine pouring through the windows, or the sunshine of his hair. You can touch his hair though. So you do, and the soft rivers of gold cascade and tickle in between your fingers. Atsumu raises his gaze and smiles against your skin, lighting up your heart.

Reaching your heat, he pulls the strings of your pleasure with each kiss, each flick of his tongue, and you sing the ballad he composes. In this concert you’re the star, you’re the diva, and he’s merely there to worship you, to accompany your voice, to encourage and appreciate. He’s guiding you through the quiet breathy parts, not much louder than a whisper. He’s caressing the keys, adding more passion, more force, more depth, eliciting notes reaching higher, pushing you through a crescendo, rapidly, lovingly, until you’re nothing but an effusion of pleads and cries of his name.

“Atsumu, come back to me.” You breathe out.

And he’s walking the path again, kissing the ground he steps on, coming back to where he belongs, where he wants to belong. Your eyes meet when he glides into you, slowly, carefully, as if any sharp movement would shatter you and this moment. Atsumu nibbles at your lips and you let him in, let his tongue dance with yours, as your fingers intertwine.

One more push joins your hips, and you both let out a breathy sigh. He pulls back and rolls back in, making sure you feel all the veins, until his tip kisses your cervix. And again. And once more.

“Ah… Tsumu…” And he knows he’s lost.

“God, yer so beautiful.”

You’re sinking in his eyes like molten chocolate, and the whole world ceases to exist. There’s only you and him, and the flame spilling from where you’re joined, overtaking your bodies, minds, and senses. It’s too much, it wells up in your eyes and overspills, and he’s quick to brush it away. A kiss is placed on your temple and travels down your cheek and onto your neck. With a free hand you rub mindless patterns on his back, scrape at his nape, while his roams down along your skin, adorning all the curves.

You moan into his shoulder at the sudden touch. He only grazes your clit and you’re fluttering, pulling him deeper inside of you. The movement is slow, as slow as the roll of his hips, as the drag of his tongue on your throat. But it spreads like a wildfire, floods your mind in waves until everything is drowned in a white haze and explodes in a million stars.

“Come with me”

And he does. He paints his own milky way inside of you, releasing galaxies upon galaxies until he pours everything he has, until he’s empty and you’re full. He does, because he would follow you anywhere.

#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #miya atsumu smut #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu crack #miya atsumu crack #haikyuu x y/n #atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #haikyuu crack #mysh.supernova.[hq]

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alengmae · 3 years

Text

Rabble Drabble V: Advances

Colin fights off the advances of his wife in a drunken stupor.

A/N: Just so people know that I’m not completely heartless from the last chapter of my other fic. Here’s pure fluff. Enjoy!

Penelope glanced at the grandfather clock near the fireplace. It’s getting late and Colin was still not home. She wasn’t bothered much. It was a guy’s night out, after all. Whenever Michael, Benedict and Philip were in town, all the Bridgerton males made time to meet up and hang out. This guy’s night happened once every other month.

She’s not worried, knowing full well that Anthony would be responsible for the rowdy boys. But tonight, Colin had been unusually late coming home. She could not help but entertain her growing unease. She did just get married to him. She would be really pissed if Colin ended up making her a widow so soon.

She was about to call Kate when the doorbell rang. She answered the door promptly and was greeted at the sight of a disheveled Anthony keeping a drunk Colin upright. By the look of things, if she were to have taken her time from opening the door, Colin would have been sprawled on the ground, most likely pulling his brother with him.

“Hey, Pen,” Anthony managed to say between grunts. He pulled on his brother, who was swaying dangerously on the spot. In his van behind him, Michael pressed on the car horn obnoxiously, to Anthony’s consternation. Benedict’s hoot and Philips yelp was very audible in her quiet neighborhood. Penelope would have to bake cookies again to appease her neighbors.

“Fun night?” she asked with a laugh. She stepped up, anchoring her husband’s left arm over her shoulder. Colin, even in his drunken stupor, turned and bowed to the men in the car. He almost face-planted on the ground, if not for Anthony’s fast reflexes.

The prominent vein on the left side of Anthony’s forehead was ticking dangerously. Penelope hid her giggle since he might go off any second.

“Annoying gits,” Anthony mumbled as he shoved his brother into the house and into Penelope’s arms. “Always testing my patience. You got him, Pen?”

She nodded after hearing the car horn again. As much as she wanted him to help her with Colin upstairs, he needed to bring them home before her neighbors complained. She guided her husband to the stairs after saying, “Thanks Anthony. Close the door, will you?”

Her brother-in-law assented but added before rushing out, “Brunch tomorrow at mother’s, don’t forget!”

“Got it!” she shouted as he shut the door close. “Alright, my love. Work with me,” she pleaded when she tried to get Colin up the stairs without any accidents.

Colin shook his head, as if willing the booze away from his system, and took a good look at the stairs ahead of him. Then, he crouched down to all fours and slowly climbed up. Penelope was too flabbergasted to stop him.

“Not what I have in mind, but I’ll take it,” she muttered as she followed him, making sure he did not make a misstep.

He continued on until he reached the top. He stood up abruptly, with her guidance and made for their bedroom. Upon reaching the bed, Penelope stopped her husband from flopping onto the bed so she could take off his jacket, which reeked of booze. But before she could pull his sleeve off, he cut her off.

“Excuse me, madam,” he slurred insistently, “I am a kept man. I do not care for your advances as I am very happily married.”

Well, if that didn’t bring a bright smile on her face, she didn’t know what will. But she still needed to take off his jacket. “I just need to take off your jacket, love.”

He acquiesced however, he refrained her from touching him with a light slap of her hand. He took it off easily then crashed head first on the bed.

Penelope was torn between annoyance and affection as she cradled the hand that he slapped away. In the end, she chose to linger on the fierce devotion he showed to her. She was successful in taking off both his shoes. When she was close to getting his socks off, he moved his feet out of reach.

“No means no, lady,” he almost bellowed. “I’m married.”

“So you kept saying,” she retorted as she chased his foot to pull on a sock. After a tedious minute, she was able to take it off and the other one too amidst his elaborate footwork dodges. She inhaled loudly, trying to be patient with her drunk husband. At this point, she may be okay with being a widow since she just might kill him herself.

She sagged right next to him on the bed, her fatigue from the day catching up. She was ready to fall asleep when a scandalized, “Excuse me!” prevented her from falling asleep.

She scrunched her face and whispered to Colin, “You are really exhausting all my patience tonight, darling.”

“I only sleep with my wife,” he insisted again, with a slur. “My Pen is the only one allowed to this,” he said as he gestured to his body. To his defense, it was a pretty tantalizing body. But she could not help but wonder if his brain was rendered useless with the alcohol in his tantalizing body.

“Colin, just sleep, okay? I’m tired. You’re tired. Just go to sleep,” she appealed to him with wry fondness. She pulled on the comforter and tried to cover both their bodies with it. Unfortunately for her, he refused to cooperate.

He fought off the comforter as if it were armed enemies, both his hands in a karate chop stance.

“Colin! Just...oh my god,” she muttered under her breath. She’s never going to let him come back drunk ever again if he was going to be such a pain like this.

“My beautiful wife will have words with you, lady. Stop trying to molest me.”

She wanted to strangle him but his compliment gave her pause. “Your wife must have the patience of a saint.”

“My wife has everything,” he snootily replied. “She’s so witty and beautiful and insanely hot and funny and has the best rack,” his hands cupped the air daintily and she glowered at him, “and she’s sexy and she’s a great kisser and best of all, she’s mine.”

She wanted to wince. She honestly really hoped he didn’t talk about her breasts in public like this. But she would be lying if she denied being touched by his raining flattery. The muscles on her face tugged into a wide grin.

“She should be lucky to have you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I know I’m a catch,” her smile fell off, replaced by exasperation, “but my wife is leagues ahead of me. She’s the best. She’s absolutely, astoundingly gorgeous and that’s the least interesting thing about her. I’m awed that she chose me out of all the fools around her.”

Well, shit. His words tugged into her heart, churning her insides into mush. Even the way he smiled dreamily as he went on and one about her sent her into a giddy rush.

He continued, “I worship the ground she walked on. When she said she loved me, it felt like my life, only then, really started. Everything else was background noise. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing her how important she is to me. She is my dream fulfilled.”

Aww. This was better than his wedding vows. Her eyes misted as she tried to hide how touched she was at his drunken declaration. Penelope had to admit that drunk Colin was her favorite version of her husband.

She leaned closer to him to give him a fervent kiss when his palm connected with her face. It wasn’t a slap, more of a forceful push. His outstretched hand pushed her away from his side.

“God, lady, I just told you I’m married. I’m going to have to call the cops.”

All of the goodwill she harbored from his flowery speech about her vanished. How could he use her face to push her entire body away from him? He’s definitely going to pay for this tomorrow.

She left the bed at his unrelenting pushes. She grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and a bottle of aspirin. When she came back to their bedroom, he was fast asleep on his side of the bed. She placed the glass and medicine on his bed stand.

He definitely was a handful but he was hers.

She laid down on the bed, careful not to wake him from his slumber. It did not take her long to pass out in a dreamless sleep.

She awoke to the glare of sunlight peeking from the drawn curtains a couple of hours later. She tried to rub her eyes but her arm was encumbered by her husband’s body. Colin, in his sleep, latched on to her side, curling his body flush to hers. She remembered his sweet words last night and grinned affectionately. However, she also remembered the way his hand connected with her face when she only wanted to give him a kiss.

“Good morning!” she loudly exclaimed.

Colin winced and cradled his head with a whine, “Why?”

His obvious pain was enough to balm the annoyance from last night. She ruffled his hair. “There’s water and aspirin there for you.”

He mumbled his thanks and burrowed even deeper into the crook of her neck. She giggled when he peppered tiny kisses on her neck.

“We have to be at your mom’s in a few hours. Think you’re up to it?”

He grunted a response, tightening his embrace on her. She reminded him of his mother’s special waffles and he seemed to be more amenable after.

“I love you,” she told him, after a beat of silence, as she caressed his head.

He peered at her. “I love you too. If I am to be greeted with this every morning after I get drunk, I’m drinking more often,” he answered with a joke.

“Please don’t,” she asked with a glare.

His face scrunched in confusion and all Penelope did was give her befuddled husband a sound kiss.

#bridgerton #polin #penelope x colin #colin x penelope

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

Text

Nightwing 83 Review

guess who isn't weeks late this time. my opinion of the series is going up a little bit. it's still not great, but i'm not actively put off by it anymore the way i was after 81. not going to tag as spoilers, but be warned that they are under the cut

i’m sure you all are well aware of this but now, but dear god i love bruno redondo’s art. like, an unhealthy amount. the pink and blue is getting to be a theme with either him or just this run, but i am definitely enjoying it. the movement in this cover is clearly obvious, but well done. you recoznize right off the bat that the cover was drawn to drag your eyes down the page until you get to the bottom, but you enjoy the whole ride there.

also, redondo’s way of drawing a character in stages of action so we can see just how much they’re doing in a split second of movement is quickly becoming something i like to see drawn with dick, and any other character that has that sort of ease of movement and body sense, like cass or sin or maybe a super.

and he’s in action the entire time! there’s shot drawn just to show off a shirtless comic book character, the way nightwing is so often subjected to. he’s shirtless because he’s changing his clothes, and that’s all we see, no more and no less. very practical, very well done. i like it.

he looks so cute right here oh my god. the little squint, the hair curls. it’s adorable.

but also like. unless melinda has specifically outfitted the door spyhole so that the person on the other side can’t see dick looking through it (and in all honesty she might have) then everyone on the other side can see dick looking through that door.

bringing your attention back to the “i can’t see melinda’s fbi file oh no!! it’s redacted!! whatever can we do!!” stupidity. redacted files are child’s play for oracle, and definitely doable for both dick and bruce. so that’s bullshit.

now, melinda apparently grew up with the maroni family, then took down part of the family from the inside. the maroni family is a large and notable presence in gotham, one that bruce pays a respectable amount of attention to. he definitely would have grown suspicious when two members of the maroni family were taken down, and with some investigation, he would have discovered melinda’s plan. and it should go without saying that the majority of things you see batman doing? dick can do it too.

it’s not so much that i don’t like how clever the villains/antiheroes are getting. i don’t like how dc heroes are increasingly written as less intelligent. they seem to be relying on pure fighting skills or luck, which may be the case for a couple heroes, but has never been the case for most of dc’s big name heroes, the bat family included. it’s irritating to me to see this sort of stuff pop up as a major plot point when i know that, if dick or bruce had been written with the amount of skill and power that they canonically possess, this entire mess would have been sorted out years ago.

unrelated but dick and melinda have the same hair

this may just be me, but i was always under the impression that dick doesn’t really have a “double life???”

yes, he’s talented enough to create enough differences between robin/nightwing and dick grayson’s mannerisms, way of movement, voices, and speech patterns so that it’s very difficult to put the two together.

but nightwing has never been separate from dick grayson, not the way bruce and batman is. he’s always leaned more towards clark in that aspect: his hero persona is an exaggerated, stately, larger-than-life version of who he really is. there’s no second persona, no real “dick grayson identity” and “nightwing identity.” they’re the same person with the same goals, ideas, and skills. one just pretends to abide by the law, and one gives up pretense of that.

oh good thank god. if he’d trusted her right off the bat (hehe. bat.) i would have slapped him upside the head. at least he’s still got instincts.

gosh the colouring on this is cool. the red has enough purple and pink tones to it that it doesn’t abruptly ruin the tone of the artwork. but it’s definitely glaring enough to take the reader outside of this personal moment they had slipped into between dick and melinda, to put them back in the present where they’re reminded that oh yea there are people hunting dick down.

the next panel keeps this up too, in a less severe way. melinda’s bodyguard shows up (i forgot her name sorry :[ ) and subtly places us in the middle of an action scene rather than a private, personal scene.

laughing so fucking hard have our little vigilantes grown so accustomed to breaking into places that it doesn’t even register as a crime anymore??? tim coming in through the fire escape to pick bernard up for their date and being very much confused as to why bernard is freaking out.

i really like melinda’s shirt and now despite all the work i have to do and the fucking conference i have to host on monday i want to spend hours scrolling through clothing shops online trying to find this shirt. the mock neck/neckline is so cool i want it

so roland just assumes that a very dangerous vigilante who is highly talented in combat and a very dangerous bodyguard who is also highly talented in combat had a fight that ended with this very dangerous bodyguard being tied up and she looks completely fine? roland just assumes that her having no visible wounds or bruises means that they got into a fight and she lost that easily? uh. aight then

dick what are you doing. legitimately what the fuck are you doing. why are you posing oh my god. you are injured and tired and in absolutely no position to go hand to hand with one of main enemies. jesus christ run away or head to lower ground or something. don’t just stand around letting the floodlights show exactly where you are.

i don’t understand what he’s trying to do here??? blockbuster fully bought the story that dick fought them both, won, tried to get info out of them and failed, then hightailed it out of there. he didn’t have to draw roland out for a fight.

but it does look cool. the way the light just highlights his silhouette and the blue parts of his costume does look badass. he does get style points in my book for this.

w h a t d i d i f u c k i n g t e l l y o u , d i c k ?

very classic superhero line and it does sound like something dick would say in a fit of righteous rage but also it makes me laugh so hard because all vigilantes think they’re so powerful that the law doesn’t apply to them. dick vigilantism is illegal. you’re acting above the law and pretending it doesn’t apply to you. hypocritical much?

it happens so often in superhero movies, tv shows, comics, whatever and it makes me giggle every damn time.

pretty decent comeback but before i start seeing people writing blockbuster as a thug i’m going to remind you that he made a deal with a demon for genius level intellect. if this turns into another bane situation i’m going to be a little miffed. he’s a smart man, which makes him a dangerous and infinitely more interesting enemy for nightwing.

this is so horribly in character i want to scream. (or. at least. it lines up with one of the versions of nightwing i have in my head.) he’s running right towards the bullets, miraculously doesn’t get shot, while making a sort-of pun. i hate this so much. i love him.

this is cool. this art is really really cool.

he leaped from a building right towards a helicopter that’s actively shooting at him, but none of the bullets are touching him. none of the corruption of the city can touch him no matter how hard it tries, because he’s too good to be corrupted. Comic Book Logic Can Be Good Sometimes Actually.

batman’s belt what??? swiss army knife who?? sorry, i only know nightwing’s bright blue escrima.

this is one of my favourite things about heroes with exceptional abilities, even more so if the hero is human. the things they can do are so far beyond the realm of normal human abilities that it’s equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring every time they act.

he just used modified grappling wires to hook to the door of a moving helicopter, swung around the helicopter safely without hitting the blades, gained exactly the right momentum to swing upward again right through the opening of helicopter, then fought and tied up the men before they had any idea what was happening. that’s near impossible to do.

it’s stuff like this where i just sort of sigh in contentment. no matter how many times they leave out dick’s detective skills or conveniently forget that he’s actually a master planner and team leader and make him out to be this forgetful dude who makes everything up on the fly because of his “circus roots,” at least they won’t ever take away dick’s sheer physical ability honed to perfection.

the art, too! in a few panels, dick’s drawn a little lightened or blurred. he’s moving so quickly and fighting so efficiently that he can barely be seen by the enemy. he’s got perfect form all the way through.

and THIS!

there was a helicopter that had five men shooting at him with what looks like machine guns. most people would be dead. some would run away, and be nimble enough to survive without fatal hits. there are very few people, even in fucking comic books, who can look at that hopeless situation and turn it around so quickly and thoroughly that he benefits from it instead.

i just. love nightwing.

it was funny the first time as a comic reader aware of the meme. it’s really not anymore. why the hell would you, in universe, be wearing a shirt that has a picture of your boyfriend being hit in the face by his father.

okay that was funny.

look at lil bitewing, so concerned for her human!!! love her sm.

also a question as to the timeline of things. is nightwing happening before or after urban legends?

i was so distracted by dick wearing a robe and briefs and nothing else that i didn’t register the second part until later. he slept for two days?? babs, baby, he recently had a very traumatic brain injury. why do you sound so nonchalant?

@TIM X COFFEE SHIPPERS GET FUCCCCKKKKEEDDDDD

ngl i totally forgot about that dude oops

this comic is giving so many reaction pictures. you know how you always use the worst possible picture of your friend for your friend’s contact picture? i’m just getting so many of these.

leslie!!! the titans!!! lucius!!! dick going to go see old friends!!!! the titans!!! this part made me so irrationally happy it really did. gar being the one to just. offer dick solutions with open arms. this was the best

i wish i could just copy and paste this entire scene, but that would take up way too much space, so i’m just going to talk about it instead.

you gave me my name, nightwing, and you gave me some of the best advice i’ve received in my life: beautiful little throwback to nightwing’s origin. you’d be surprised at the amount of people who don’t know where the name came from, or who don’t know how much clark means to dick. and the fact that dick still looks up to clark as a hero, recognizes that clark isn’t always perfect and yet continues to hold him in such high esteem, and still looks back on advice that clark gave him fondly just warmed my heart so much.

for a man who has fearlessly stood up to darkseid, bruce will do a lot to avoid a conversation: “grrr. i’m the BATMAN. i’m so DARK and MYSTERIOUS. nobody knows the true me. no one ever will. i will be LONELY for the rest of my CURSED LIFE. such is the price of a hero. ignore my farmer himbo husband in the background”

but i don’t think there’s anything heroic about being a billionaire: another nod to how much dick follows clark’s example rather than bruce. yes, this was a very poignant and important criticism, and i think it’s wonderful that this was published in a pretty popular comic book. but the thing is, there is a way to be a heroic billionaire, but only in fictional universes. the way bruce, ollie, t’challa only ever use their wealth to help people. they donate massive amounts of money to charities that they themselves create so they know exactly how the money is being used. they hire people who aren’t likely to get jobs anywhere else and pay them much more than what a base living wage is. they use their power to help push progressive laws and social change. they are helping.

dick doesn’t fully see it that way. he spent more than half his childhood the son of a billionaire, but still believes that one could be more heroic when one doesn’t have obscene amounts of wealth. whose example do you think he followed to come to that conclusion?

superman looked up to alfred pennyworth?: i mean yea alfred may have been a wildly irresponsible guardian and one hell of an enabler but goddamn if he didn’t love his kid.

you don’t need my input. you’ve thought it all through: ooooooh this line made me grin. for so long, dick’s treated clark as a mentor and a guiding figure. he’s still seen as a kid, an up and coming, snot-nosed titan with dreams of a better world. clark still thinks of him as a kid, despite watching him grow up. but this little line was something i think dick needed sorely to hear. he doesn’t need anyone’s guiding hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t need to ask for permission. he doesn’t need clark to support him the way he did when he was a teenager. he’s all grown up now, and he doesn’t need clark’s help. i imagine it was a bit of a surprise for dick to hear that.

honestly, i couldn’t think of a better role model: ohhh but it doesn’t stop there. clark just straight up turns the tables on dick. imagine you’re dick, and you’ve looked up to this one hero your entire life, and then one day he turns to you and says that he thinks you’re so kind and smart and worthy of a person that he wants you to mentor his son!? goes to show just how much clark trusts dick.

i swear to god dick probably cries every time he hears clark compliment him because bruce is so rare and sparing with his praise that clark giving him the slightest hint of approval is just a dopamine rush.

also, now deathstroke and superman have both asked nightwing to mentor their kids. the juxtaposition is fuckin hysterical. imagine either of their reactions when they realize what kind of company they’re with

lets talk colours for a second, because i absolutely adore how classic colour tropes have been subverted in this comic, and in this general run really.

warm tones have usually (usually, not always) been associated with light and comfort and friendship and,,,,,well,,,warmth. whereas cool tones are usually used to unsettle, or make a scene seem colder and put the reader on edge. this varies if a comic only uses cool tones, or only uses warm tones, but if a comic uses both, this is generally well-used.

that isn’t the case in this run.

dark red, orange, and other warm tones have been used to symbolize danger, action, attacks. hot pink isn’t usually included in this colour group, but it’s definitely part of it in this case. in contrast, scenes that have cool colours give us the impression of slipping into a comfortable, calm scene with babs, tim, the titans, and other allies. even the beginning scene with superman has this blue, but then it transitions into something more golden coloured. dawn broke over dick, as his new idea came to light, and that was reflected in the art (and the sunrise setting.)

have there ever been times when dick’s longed for the comfort of his mask because he didn’t feel confident as dick grayson? i can’t think of any. i may be wrong, but this struck me as pretty ooc.

am i just??? gay and reading this all wrong??

cause i was under the impression that when someone says they are grateful for your friendship you don’t immediately kiss them.

or is this like. normal straight mating rituals.

i mean he’s smiling afterward but still babs aren’t you supposed to at least make sure it’s okay first? you guys broke up a while back after you said something along the lines of “i want to be coworkers with you and nothing more because i don’t trust you or feel comfortable around you as a civilian anymore.” like lmao after you say something like that to someone i would assume that you don’t have the permission to just kiss them whenever you want.

show of hands who else got real sad when they realized dick was talking about himself in this.

sure, he could be referencing the things he’s seen blockbuster pull, and the children on the streets. but “i’ve seen money used for enforcement,” sounds a little too close to dick’s entire life being destroyed by one man threatening the circus to pay protection money for me to completely ignore. and “i’ve seen the poorest and most vulnerable blamed and punished rather than assisted” becomes a lot worse when you remember dick was thrown in juvie for a couple months until bruce was able to obtain legal guardianship, and in there, not a authority figure believed him when he told them his parents were murdered.

he’s lived this before.

a. mother. fucking. typo.

fucking why

i mean i’ve stated my distaste for the batfamily groupchat before but like. this is reaching new levels of ridiculousness. jason sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. tim sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. steph sounds like she was written by someone who doesn’t know the first thing about steph and wanted to include her for “family points!!!!!” damian’s supposed to be completely off the grid, and everyone’s searching for him. i do love the way cass texts tho.

well god fuck now i’m crying

dick got a phone call, a sorry, and a thank you out of bruce. i feel so much secondhand happiness for him, if that’s a thing. we’ll just ignore the way bruce looks ugly af and focus on the good parts okay?

and again with the colour symbolism here!

i’m either going to love this or hate this. who knows, we’ll see.

something something hearts something something pink is an evil colour something something. i need to know more about this guy but there’s definitely symbolism there.

is it just me or does this dude look like the backstabbing traitorous absolutely motherfucking piece of shit villain that killed tadashi hamada in big hero 6?

taggggg list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @comics-observer @buticaaba

#river thinks too hard #nightwing #dick grayson #nightwing 83 #dc #nightwing review #nightwing meta #dick grayson review #dick grayson meta #nightwing 83 review #nightwing 83 meta #dc review #dc meta

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catxsnow · 4 years

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JEALOUS, MUCH? T.D.

Summary: Tim doesn’t like to see you dancing with other men at Bruce’s gala’s.

Warning: a few suggestive themes at the end, jealously

A/N: To the anon requester who I wrote Never trust a Luthor, I hope this is more of what you were more looking for!

GIF not mine

Word count: 2.2k

Dating Tim was something that you never expected.

You didn't know that he was secretly Robin. Or that Bruce Wayne adopted him as his own. That he had four brothers and two sisters. You certainly didn't know that he worked on a team filled with superheroes just the same age as you. However, what surprised you nearly as much as all of that, was how insanely jealous he got.

Tim was the kind of person that made you smile without him realizing it. He always thought things through far more logically than needed. Him being the kind of person that got jealous? It didn't seem on par with him, yet here you were.

He didn't show this behavior very often, particularly at the beginning of your relationship. he was subtle with his motives, grabbing your hand if you were talking to someone flirting with you. Asking for a dance at Bruce's gala's when he noticed someone's eyeing you up. You barely noticed it at first.

After a couple years of dating him, his jealously still didn't seem to go away. He knew that he had nothing to worry about - you would never break his trust like that. However, it was the others that he didn't trust. Even when it came to his best friends jokingly flirting with you, he would get angered.

And yet, after all these years, you still didn't seem to mind it. Whenever he would pull you into his arms and kiss you with all of his love, you didn't care that it was an act of jealously, you were just happy to be with him. He made you feel loved, and at the end of the day that was what mattered the most.

Not that you would admit it, but there were times that you purposefully made him jealous - just a little bit. Asking to go to bars with him all the time and dressing down just enough to get attention. Playfully flirting with his best friends - or worse, his brothers. It was always just enough to see that glint in his eyes and know that the second you got home you were going to learn your lesson.

Tim knew what you were doing, and he still fell for it every time.

And then there were the times that you weren't doing it on purpose. You would be being polite and many people took that the wrong way. Tim would step in, making sure that whoever was talking to you knew that you weren't interested.

Gala's were the worst for them to happen. You were always dressed so beautifully and everyone in the room could see it. Old men who had a... distant relationship with their wives would stare you down. Tim no longer became jealous, he became protective. He didn't want anyone to look at you that way, especially some old creep who was only there because he was rich.

There was the odd Gala, like this night, that the sons of rich couples would attend. Dressed in expensive suits and only there to see all the beautiful girls in long gowns and think about what was underneath them. Tim hated nights like those.

"You look stunning, my love," Tim sneaked up behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your cheek. It was the first time that he had seen you all evening - Bruce had been keeping him busy with unrelated Bat business. He tried to make it back in time for you, but things had gotten delayed.

"Busy night?" You asked, spinning around in his arms so you could kiss his lips. Tim only nodded. You trailed your fingers delicately on the faintest purple tinge on his jaw. Only if someone were as close as you could notice it. "You okay?"

"Better now that I'm with you," Tim assured. "How’s the Gala so far?"

"Better now that I'm with you," You mimicked his words. Tim rolled his eyes, kissing you one last time before leading you towards the dance floor. His hand laid out for you to grab, and the two of you instantly starting moving along to the music. Ballroom dancing had never been your thing until meeting Tim, now it was what you looked forward to the most at these events.

It seemed like the second you stepped foot on the dance floor, you gained the attention of everyone in the room. Tim moved you so gracefully across the marble flooring with such love in his eyes that it could be seen by anyone glancing at you. He spun you around, smiling as he saw you get excited.

As the song came to an end, he dipped you ever so slightly, kissing you lips for everyone watching to know that you were his. He wished to dance with you for the next song, but it was Bruce that had whispered something to him. Tim's face dropped as Bruce left the two of you.

"Gotta go?" You asked, already knowing the answer. Tim nodded, promising that he wouldn't be gone for more than twenty minutes. Twenty minutes too long without you and twenty less minutes of being able to stare at your beautiful face. "Love you."

It seemed like the second Tim stepped out of the room, someone had joined you at your side. He appeared no older than you or Tim. Tall, dark hair and a beautiful smile. He wore an expensive suit and he certainly looked like he had the attitude to be at a grand event like this.

"Kind of rude to just up and leave your date like that," He spoke to you. You knew how busy Tim's life was, him leaving like this was nothing new. However, to others, you could see how him disappearing like that could look bad. "I'm Jared, You must be (Y/N) (L/N)."

"You know my name?" You raised an eyebrow. You had been going to these gala's since you and Tim started dating, not once did someone ask for your name. You weren't rich like these people, the only reason you belonged at all was because of Tim. It was a nice change to be recognized but someone.

"Of course," he nonchalantly shrugged. He took a final sip of his drink before setting it down on the table you were by. One hand was slung in his pocket, the other at his side. "I know the names of all the beautiful people in this room. Care to dance? Until your date comes back at least?"

Jared had his hand sticking out for you to grab. You did another look around of the room, hoping to see that Tim was coming back from whatever goose chase Bruce put him on. Unfortunately, you didn't see him or anyone else that you knew. Of course, the massive Wayne family had to disappear just as you needed them.

Reluctantly, you placed your hand in his and he swiftly led you back to the dance floor. More couples filled the space, slowly dancing along to the music that played. Jared stood taller than Tim, he exuded richness but lacked the elegance your boyfriend had. He was a decent dancer.

"So, what do you do?" He asked, trying to fill your silence with a conversation. You didn't wish to be dancing with this man, but it also seemed better than standing along. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Not at all," You assured. Your eyes danced along the people, hoping to see Tim's face among them all. "I go to Gotham University right now. Mr. Wayne said I could work for his company one day if I so wished. What do you do?"

"Lucky, Mr. Wayne is a good man," Jared smiled once more. "I just graduated Gotham University. Chemical Engineering. Hopefully one day I'll get to work at Wayne Enterprises, too." Jared spun you suddenly, you would have fallen over if it wasn't for his hand on your waist keeping you upright. "Sorry."

"No worries," You chuckled. Dancing with Tim, you two were always in sync, you forgot what it was like to dance with someone new. "You don't want to get out of Gotham? It's not the best city to be stuck in."

"Gotham's been home forever," Jared brushed off. His hand was still on your waist. His touch was foreign to you, feeling weird that it wasn't Tim. You hated this feeling, yet chatting with him seemed refreshing. "Wouldn't you leave? There's many business like Mr. Wayne's that I'm sure you could get into."

"That's true, but none of them would be owned by him," You chuckled. Working for Bruce always seemed like the route to go, even before dating Tim. "Besides I couldn't leave T-" You were cut off.

"May I cut in?" You hadn't even noticed Tim rejoin everyone, much less see him stand directly beside you and Jared. The taller man looked down at your boyfriend, registering that he was glaring at the placement of his hands. Aside from the one clasped in yours, his other had move down your waist and towards your hips, dangerous close to your butt. You hadn't even noticed.

Tim glared at Jared, ready to retaliate in any way that he saw fit. His hands were curled at his sides. To his surprise, Jared let go of you rather quickly, and retained the friendly look on his face.

"Of course," Jared gave up your hold without question. "It was nice meeting you (Y/N)." He gave a short wave and a final smile before heading off. Tim took his place, pulling you against his chest in seconds. He swooped down for a long, lingering kiss as well. Seeing you with this other man? It sparked a jealously inside him that he hadn't felt in a while.

"Jealous, much? Or did you just miss me?" You teased. Tim dragged his hands down your waist until finally reaching the curve of your butt. Inappropriate in the setting you were in, but you knew that this was just the sign of him wanting Jared to know, you were dating him. "Tim," You scolded.

"Lets get out of here?" Tim offered. Seeing you dance with someone else, he wanted to take you away. He wanted to be with you and only you where no one else could consider asking you to dance. You knew what his intentions were, taking you away from the gala just to undress you.

Anytime he got jealous Tim would show you just how much he wanted you. He'd kiss every inch of your skin, knowing just the right places that got you excited. Spending all of his time focusing on you, making you feel good at his hand, not anyone else's. You knew exactly what was coming for you.

"I'd like that."

Tim barely had you half way up the stairs before he was pulling you in for another kiss. He refused to part ways long enough to get to his old bedroom at the Manor, yet somehow managing to get both of you there without falling. His tie was loosened and his buttons undone as he placed you on his bed.

You both kicked your shoes off, struggling with not wanting to break your kiss. Tim's kisses trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking right at your pulse point. It was enough to emit a quiet moan out of you. The marks he left would surely be hard to hide the next day, but you didn't care.

"Did you like dancing with that other man?" Tim mumbled against your skin. He finally shed the rest of his shirt, along with the tie dangling around his neck. His beautifully tanned torso was scattered with bruises from his evening affairs, though it didn't seem to slow him down with you.

"If I said I did?" You pondered. Though it wasn't a bad time, you had wished it to be Tim. Tim glared at you, squeezing your ass to let you know he wasn't in a playing mood. As much as you wanted to fuel his jealously, you choose to soothe it. "You know you never have a reason to be jealous, Timmy. My eyes are always on you."

No matter what other man or woman was in the room, Tim was the only person that you loved. Through everything, you were always going to be by his side - he knew that. No matter what situation you were in, he knew that he was going to be the one holding you at night as you fell asleep.

"It's not your eyes I'm worried about," Tim explained as he stripped you of the remainder of your clothes. He trailed kisses down your chest, the inside of your thighs, and then back up to your lips. The hand not keeping his body weight off of you was intertwined with your own fingers. "You didn't see the way he was looking you, undressing you with his eyes."

"Hmm, kinda how I was looking at you tonight, huh?" You smirked. Tim always looked so handsome when he wore a suit and his hair was all combed back. You always admired him endlessly at gala's like these. "Except at the end of the day, it's you that gets to see me naked, not any other man."

"My favourite sight to see."

#tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake one shot #tim drake x reader #red robin #red robin imagine #dc one shot #dc imagine #dc #batfam #batfam imagine

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beelspillowpet · 3 years

Note

could i get some hcs of the brothers (how many is up to you!!) with an epileptic MC? like, they end up having absence and myoclonic seizures, and maybe hurt themselves a bit? sorry if this is too specific adjkd it just happened to me this morning and. i accidentally flung my spoon across the room while eating cereal 🙈 i also stabbed myself in the eye with my thumb but Eh

OMG Anon!!! I hope you’re okay!? Seizures are really serious and dangerous, I hope you’re recovering alright?! Sending you a bunch of hugs and head pats u-u In other somewhat unrelated news, I’m glad people are so comfortable coming to me with these sorts of HCs. Means I really am doing an impactful job in my research and writing these sorts of things comfort you. It also helps me learn a little more about people's everyday struggles. Here’s to hoping for a bright future for you all!

I tried to include more symptoms and types of seizures (?) in this post, but I don’t think I was able to touch on them all? Usually when I do HCs like this, I have something like an “interview” with the asker beforehand to make sure I’m getting their experience probably, and a better understanding of the disorders. I hope this is portrayed properly!!! ~

Lucifer

He’s lecturing you, but pauses for a moment to question your reasoning for making pacts with his brothers. He’s expecting you to answer, but you don’t. You simply daze off at him. You weren’t trying to piss him off, but you weren’t all there in the moment. Your hands twitched and your hand accidently shot up behind you, as if you were pulling your hand away from a snapping dog. He took that as a warning.

The second time it occurred was over dinner. It was just you and him, enjoying the meal you prepared for dinner and waited for him to arrive home for it. You had another epileptic seizure, and spaced out for longer than normal.

When you came to, Lucifer was out of his chair at your side, checking to make sure you were alright. He was a bit rattled to say the least, but when he waved his hand in front of your eyes and they followed, he started to relax a bit more. He questioned what just happened, but with the slot of time missing in your brain, you couldn’t completely answer him.

It’s when you start jerking your body about uncontrollably, as if something is possessing you to behave in such a manner than he finally looks into it. Admittedly, he should have done so sooner, this isn’t normal behavior after all. What he discovers is a bit upsetting, as there’s no “cure” or “fix” for it. He doesn’t bring it up to you- you’re probably sensitive about the topic. But he’s far more patient with you now, knowing that these seizures are just a part of your life.

Mammon

Oh what the fuck was that? Are ya’ good? You just kinda... slapped the fuck out of yourself there? Why’d you do that?

This pea-brain probably doesn’t pick up on too many symptoms at first. You’re just his weird, hopeless human. While that’s nice, a little more attention would be grateful.

“Hey Mammon, when did you dye your hair yellow?” “What’re ya talkin’ about? My hair is white.” “Huh, in this light it looks yellow. And did you get a tan?” He thinks you’re weird but it’s okay. It sort of offends you that he thinks this way, it’s not like you’re doing this on purpose. You genuinely thought he dyed his hair yellow- and that he darkened his skin.

There are also times when he uses the same cologne but something smells different about it. The whiplash of suddenly having one smell and then be overwhelmed by something entirely different, or have this random dizziness... well, at least Mammon is always there to catch you if you lose your balance. As much of an airhead as he is, he’s still a helpful and supportive one.

Leviathan

Your seizures scare the shit out of them. You have the worst ones with him because while in his room, the bright flashing lights are somehow worse. Brighter, even more than before, and before you know it you’re having an out of body experience, feeling your body twitch and tremor, but unable to stop it.

You can hear Leviathan freaking out in the distance, making sure you lay down flat and keep you from swallowing your own tongue. Despite having a panic attack after the fact, he’s relatively calm for the most part. He doesn’t have any real knowledge on these things yet, and he’s not sure if he’s prepared for it.

Other times you may just pace the floor as if thinking. You’re constantly rubbing your hands together, looking left and right erratically. Sometimes when you do this, you’re muttering nonsense, and other times, you’re silent. Leviathan isn’t sure which one is scarier.

He does research on why you behave this way sometimes. You don’t have them too often, but it’s happened at least three times and it’s scared him each time. When he discovers his solution, he tries to bring it up with you in a calm and quiet manner. Either that or he waits until next time because bringing it up unprompted can be awkward.

Satan

Oh. He knows what’s going on. He’s got doctor friends. He sort of just... asks. Just to be sure. Whether you tell him or not, he knows what’s really going on here. He won’t judge. Obviously not. You can’t control your behavior with those sorts of things.

He’s aware that seizures can kick up anywhere, so he watches you carefully. You could have one while walking down the steps and end up falling and hurting yourself. You could get one while preparing dinner and accidently stab yourself- or you can even get one while driving. He’s always prepared to take over for you when you need it.

There was one time you finally did come to him. To confide in him about your problems. It was silly, you thought. Why would he listen? Except he set aside his book, turned in his chair to you, and listened. He never interrupted, and only spoke when you were taking a moment to breathe through your tears.

He was there for you, and he would never try to upset you. He knows how scary these sorts of things can be. While he doesn’t struggle with the same issues, having depressive episodes are not lost on him. He would gladly welcome you into his arms for a hug, and make sure you’re at least safe in these awful times.

Asmodeus

You and Asmo were at the club when it happened. You’re dancing with each other one moment, and the next you’re on the floor convulsing. You were embarrassed once it was all over, but imagine how terrified Asmo was???

You come back to yourself still on the dirty floor of the club, but now people are surrounding you, all concerned. You see Asmodeus crying, not knowing what to do. He’s panicked, and he’s gently holding your hand, hoping you’re okay.

You two leave the club early, and in your guilt, explain to him what happened. Although you’re vague because you aren’t entirely sure of the details, he puts together enough to know it won’t be the last time that happens.

he clings to you afterwards, and doesn’t let go. Even if you involuntarily jerk and hit him by accident. He knows. He understands and he loves you, darling. You would never want to push him away, and he would never want you to go. Next time, he WILL do better for you.

Beelzebub

You two were playing sports together when he accidently tackled you too hard. You fell over and hit your head hard, causing you to fall into a shock-induced seizure.

He kneels there by your side crying. He knows what to do but every time he touches you, you jerk violently. As if you’re afraid of his touch, afraid of him making things worse. Still, he does his best to assist you, making sure you don’t swallow your tongue and that you don’t harm yourself any further.

Once it’s all over, he carries you to the benches and gives you food and water. He’s still crying a bit, not sure what he should do now. He probably calls Lucifer for help, and while waiting, just talks to you. Makes sure you’re still all there.

When he’s alone, he does a bit more research on seizures and comes across epilepsy. After going over what can cause the seizures, he’s riddled with even more guilt. You hit your head when he tackled you. He probably caused that seizure, didn’t he? From then on, he refuses to play sports with you. He could never forgive himself for putting you through that.

Belphegor

Of course it was a nap. What else would it be? You wake him up on accident when you kick your leg out too hard, knocking him off the bed. When he gets up to yell at you for doing that, he notices you aren’t really paying much attention to him. Instead you’re twitching your arms and legs, grunting and groaning at the pain in your limbs when you slap against the bedpost.

You’re blinking rapidly and your lips are moving, as if you’re trying to ask him for help. All that manages to come out is something similar to your lips smacking. Like Beel when he’s taste testing his dinner.

Once the seizure is over, Belphie is sitting you up slowly, petting your hand. He brings you into a hug as you tremble in his arms, whispering that its okay and that he’s here now.

He’d never experienced something so... unsettling in his life. He wonders if humans do this sometimes. Sometimes after... traumatic experiences. He cringes at the thought. Could he have caused this unintentionally? He didn’t think that the one time he snapped, he would leave you with irreversible damage. He tries to be diligent in helping you from there on, doing his thorough research and making sure you are taken care of in all ways possible should these continue, or get worse. To him, it’s more than a reason to redeem himself, it’s just doing what’s right.

#obey me #obey me swd #om!#om! swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

Fire & Ice

Kylo Ren x Reader (Medieval AU)

2k; Content Warnings: NSFW (Temperature play [ice cubes and hot wax], praise kink, body worship, begging, PIV, multiple orgasms, orgasm delay, mild lactation kink if you squint lol)

Kinktober Masterlist || Available on AO3

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You and Kylo are so similar, in so many ways. You share a passion unmatched my any that the kingdom has ever seen, you share likes and dislikes, music and food and clothing all to the same taste. You are both revered by the people, adored, even those you take prisoner cannot be mad at you for too long. Yes, you are so similar, and that is something for which you are grateful.

However, there are differences, because of course there are.

Kylo rules with an iron fist, with an explosive aggression that takes his enemies by storm. He is loud and ruthless and cruel, unrelenting to those who oppose him. He leaves no survivors, leaves no home standing, flames licking into the night sky with reckless abandon, as his war cry echoes through the burning valleys.

You are quiet, clever. You rule with firm precision, with calculated moves, with sharp eyes and a silver tongue. Your enemies do not know when they are killed, only that they are dead, and it has been by your hand. Your charm runs cold when confronted with those who oppose you, the warmth drained from your presence so that they may feel the errors of their ways frozen deep in their bones.

Where Kylo is fire, you are ice.

Funny that it should work out that way, Kylo thinks, as your back arches up to meet the cubes of frozen water he dangles above your stomach.

The first time it happened, it took you both by surprise. Kylo remembers it well, remembers the first day he felt the hot wax on his skin, remembers how it made him groan, how it made him come.

He had been on his back in bed, your body undulating above him with deep satisfaction, his cock buried all the way inside your pussy, all the way to the hilt. You were riding him hard and fast, sweat flying off the tip of your nose, trickling down your chin from the effort and the warmth of the raging fire in the hearth. There had been candles all around, as there usually were, and the wax had gone so soft, had dripped faster than normal – dripped right on Kylo’s chest.

Oh, how he had moaned! The noise had caught you off guard, thinking perhaps he was in danger he sounded so strangled. But with the way his eyes rolled back into his head from the pinprick of pain, you had quickly snatched up the candle and tipped it more deliberately onto his chest, onto his nipples.

They went hard and his flesh broke into goosebumps, that first time – and it does so now.

“Kylo!” You whine, snapping him back to reality. “Kylo please, I need more, I want more my beloved.” Your eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown black with lust as you rest atop the fur pelt on the floor.

That had been then, but this is now.

Now, you are beneath his body. His Queen, his most precious thing in the world, naked and glowing in the candlelight. Your skin is hot to the touch, hot from how hard Kylo had fucked you. He had fucked you well, so well that your voice was now hoarse from the way you screamed his name as you came on his cock – the very same cock which has remained buried inside your cunt as it squeezes and throbs around him. He hasn’t come yet, he’ll get his chance, his turn.

He can ignore the burn of the fire inside him, because in this moment, in this moment he turns his attention towards you with the ice.

“Take another,” He murmurs softly, “My angel, my Queen.”

You are so beautiful, he cannot help but think, as the ice makes contact with your flesh. Your gasps are Heavenly, a song he has memorized, as the cubes begin to melt and travel down the path to your pussy.

“Oh!” You are so happy when you sigh like this for him, it makes him want to fuck you again, makes him want to get you to come once more all over his cock fingers tongue.

And so he does, his hips moving slowly, ever so slowly, a push and pull that has your knees falling to the sides almost flat, has your eyes slipping shut.

He likes releasing the ice onto your skin, likes watching the rivers they leave behind as they slide across the sweat-slick of your stomach, following the contours of your waist, your hips. You moan out his name when the ice eventually finds its way to your coarse pubic hair, how it shocks you there. Your cunt is so hot around his cock, the ice in comparison makes you nearly cry.

“Kylo! It’s so cold Kylo – it feels so good, I love you, oh I’m so cold.” You moan and sigh and gasp and cry, your hands clutching at your breasts, squeezing them, rolling at your own nipples and tugging on them.

He licks up those tears, licks them and savors them on his tongue as he plucks more ice from the bowl in which they are steadily melting. He begins this one higher up, lets it rest in the pit of your throat, the little dip there that holds the ice cube steady.

Another one he rubs against your nipple, the left and then the right. Your body jolts and writhes under it, under the stinging cooling freezing sensation of the ice against your overworked body. Kylo’s cock is so hard inside of you, your breathy moans keeping him throbbing, ever on the precipice of orgasm, but he won’t give in yet. Not yet, not until you come just like this.

“Fuck, fuck that is so good – oh honey, oh heaven!” Your voice climbs higher and higher until it breaks when the ice cube settles between the intense heat of your folds, right on your clit.

Kylo takes the opportunity and rubs it there with his fingers, those fingers of his which have gone slightly numb from the cold. He’s not worried, it’s the farthest thing from his mind, he knows the heat of your cunt will warm him back up.

He presses the ice to your clit and rolls his hips against yours, pulls his cock nearly out all the way, and then sheathes it back inside the clutch of your cunt again and again until you come.

“Fuck!” You shout, “Kylo do that again please – please do that again!”

And you do – you do you do you do, with his name on your lips in a strangled plea as your hips buck up and you demand more friction that he will give you. He knows you’ll punish him for it with the hot wax, and he looks forward to it, it makes his stomach coil with anticipation.

The ice melts, and Kylo lets it. With no cubes left in the bowl, he knows that now it’s his turn.

He tends to go first when you play with the elements in this way. Not only because he loves to dote on you, he’s obsessed with you, he wants to feel your pleasure and let it consume him – but also because the ice requires more work than the wax does.

Kylo corrals your bodies so that you are straddling him very much like that first time, the candles so close, wax drip drip dripping. Your nipples are still hard, and Kylo can’t deny himself the opportunity to suck on them. They’re frozen on his tongue, and you sigh when the heat of his tongue brings them back to normal. He loves this, loves sucking on your breasts, loves burying his face into them and holding you close, quiet, calm.

But that’s not what this is, not what he wants right now, and you both know it – you know it with the way you begin to bounce on his cock, clenching hard around him and making him groan, seeking the rough pace he had denied you.

“Beautiful boy,” Your voice is thick and raw like honey as you comb your fingers through his hair and let him suck and lick and bite at your breasts.

The candles are purposefully within reach tonight, and you grab one easily. Kylo knows what to expect, he knows, but it still is a surprise how the hot wax feels against the hard muscle of his stomach. Little pitter patters from above, like rain drops of fire onto his flesh, he’s already moaning, already so far gone from the sensations around him, from your body, your face.

You love doing this for him, the very same way you love doing all things for him. Kylo was born through the fire, forged through the rage and pain of his past. This makes him stronger, makes him feel good, so good to know that he has beaten it, has turned the pain into pleasure. He wants to come from the simple knowledge that it is you who brings him there.

“Look how good you are, look at you, so handsome, so strong under me.” You’re exhausted, lust clouding your vision from how hard you came on his cock, and yet you still grind your hips against his.

Never staying in one place, you drip the wax in a pathway across his stomach, his chest. You steer clear of his face and his neck, and the hairy regions of his arms and legs, but the wax builds up in thick layers against his sculpted body as you ride him, your pussy like the most delicious mead, the strongest wine.

“More, please, I can take more.” Kylo licks his lips, his mouth flooding with drool as he loses himself in your cunt.

Kylo’s hands brace themselves on your hips as you drip drip drip the wax, spelling out your name with big letters, wanting the stars above to know who has claimed the victory of his undying loyalty, his love. Seeing you above him like this sets something primal off inside him.

He wants to keep you forever, wants to keep you satisfied. You throw your head back and ride him, cunt so wet and tight and hot hot hot the wax is so hot the world is so hot – he has to bare his teeth and nearly snarl from the sensation. Kylo wants to burn the world down to the ground, he would, he would do it if only you asked.

“Good boy, you’re so good.” You praise him, and he moans from it, that praise going straight to his cock.

Your hands rattle from how fast you ride him, the wax splattering irregularly onto his stomach. He lets his eyes close and feels the pinpricks of pain, his stomach tensing up, his balls drawing up, he’s sweating so hard, he wants to come inside you so badly, he begs for it.

“(Y/N), my – I – please let me come, let me come in you, I’ll do anything, please!” He shakes shakes shakes.

“Yes, yes Kylo, come in me.” You nod with a great big smile.

With the permission he seeks finally granted, he comes so hard he blacks out.

He can’t tell exactly, but he’s nearly positive that you’ve come again too, your body shaking trembling convulsing above him, crying and drooling onto his chest, hardening the wax and making him blow his load thick and heavy into your pussy.

It isn’t until you’ve both come down from your orgasms, the ice water has run warm, the wax cooled and peeled off of his flesh, do you and Kylo realize it is pouring rain. You smile against one another’s lips, and he brushes the hair out of your face, caressing you. It’s all he ever wants, is to caress you, to care for you the way you care for him so well.

In the morning there will be battle plans, training, meetings and travel.

But for now, for this moment, you are simply together, the rain pouring down onto the castle in gentle sweeps that lure you both to sleep with soft I love yous whispered against your lips.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #adam driver character #adam driver fanfic #medieval au #medieval!kylo ren #kylo ren smut #kylo ren reader insert #my writing #kinktober 2020

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choerrypuffs · 4 years

Text

enchanted.

pairing: prince!jungwoo x witch!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 9.4k

synopsis: the prince has always been a little unconventional, but no one ever expected him to fall in love with a witch.

author’s note: no one asked for this but it came to me in a fever dream and you can really tell bc my writing abilities match that (p.s. i am not knowledgeable on actual witches and witchcraft, and this is not meant to offend anyone! i just winged it and created my own version of a witch for this fic)

It’s way too early for this kind of tomfoolery.

You have your head buried under your pillow, trying to block out the extremely loud and quite irritating rapping on your door. Whoever’s knocking is using so much force that your humble little cottage is trembling with every strike. You groan, squeezing your eyes shut and praying that they’ll go away soon. Or at least come back at a more decent time.

It’s so early that the sun has barely peeked over the horizon, and the birds haven’t even begun chirping yet. You were up all night making potions to sell to the apothecary, so you’ve only gotten about three hours of sleep.

After letting them knock for a couple minutes longer, you realize that they’re not going to leave any time soon. You feel your temper boil over as you throw the covers off your body. Draping your shawl over your shoulders, you tie your unruly hair back and smooth out your nightgown before stomping over to the door and flinging it open.

“What do you want?” you snap loudly, crossing your arms across your chest.

The man in front of you blinks in surprise, fist still raised to knock again. He’s dashingly handsome, even in his state of shock. His hair looks like spun gold, managing to reflect beautifully even with the lack of sunlight. He has a snow white complexion with full, cherry-red lips.

You can tell by his attire that he’s royalty, or rather, a prince. The Prince. He’s wearing a black blazer embellished with golden brass buttons and detailed embroidery. There are two epaulettes on his shoulders, signifying his high status. He’s wearing a white cloak over it all, and you know from a simple glance that it’s made out of the finest linens in the kingdom.

“Are you the Witch of the Forest?” he finally asks, smiling jovially.

“You need not ask. Unless you’re aware of someone else who lives in the forest,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

He isn’t fazed by your sarcastic remark. “My apologies, my lady. I just wanted to make sure.”

“You should know best of all, Your Highness. Your father was the one who banished me here,” you smirk, tilting your head.

One of the guards standing behind him grips the hilt of his sword. “Why, you insolent—”

“Stand down,” The Prince orders, holding out an arm. The guard does as he’s told, albeit reluctantly.

“So, what brings you here at this godforsaken hour, Your Highness?” you ask, unbothered.

“Please, call me Jungwoo.”

“I’d rather not have my tongue cut off by your mutts,” you snort, nodding toward the guards.

“I insist,” Jungwoo says, shaking his head. “And what is your name?”

“You may call me Y/N,” you begin, eyeing the guards and grinning when you see the pure rage in their eyes. “Jungwoo.”

He’s oblivious to the contention, instead beaming happily. You can’t help but smile at his naiveté. Crossing your arms, you lean against the doorframe. “What can I help you with, Jungwoo?”

His expression turns solemn, and he reaches down to grip your hands between his. “Please help me, Y/N. My mother, the Queen, is severely ill.”

You’re taken aback by his casual touch. You’re so used to people treating you like you’re evil incarnate. Doing your best to control your expression, you clear your throat and try to continue looking elusive.

“You have my condolences, but I don’t see what that has to do with me,” you say, shrugging.

“How dare you!” The annoying guard pipes up again. “She is your queen!”

“No, she is your queen. I am not a subject of your kingdom,” you correct. “Therefore, I have no obligation to help you.”

Jungwoo releases your hands and steps back before lowering himself to his knees in front of you. Both you and the guards stare in stunned silence.

“Please. I am begging you,” he whispers with his head bowed, voice cracking. “I understand that you hate my father. I would too. But please, my mother is innocent in all of this.”

“Your Highness! Please get up immediately!” The guards say in a frenzy, all talking over each other.

He ignores the chaos and continues to stare determinedly at you. There’s something about his unrelenting gaze that makes you feel vulnerable. When was the last time someone looked you directly in the eyes like this? It scares you because it’s been so long, and you feel like he can see right through you.

You break eye contact first, turning away sharply. You grab him by the shoulders and pull him to his feet. Jungwoo also looks surprised when you touch him, but he doesn’t seem repulsed like you expect him to be. In fact, he looks a little crestfallen when your hands fall back to your sides.

“Have some dignity,” you chide, “how can a prince kneel before a witch?”

“I am willing to go to any length to save my mother,” he says without hesitation.

You sigh. After all these years and everything you’ve been through, you still can’t seem to harden your heart to situations like these. You can already hear your fellow witches taunting you in your head. They would never let you hear the end of it if they found out you were going to save the life of the wife of the man who exiled you.

Jungwoo picks up on your hesitancy, grasping your hand again. “Please.”

The desperation and panic in his voice shatters the remainder of fight you have left in you.

“Alright,” you finally relent, “I will help you.”

Now it’s his turn to be shocked. “R-Really?”

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for handsome men,” you say, patting his cheek. “Stop looking so surprised. Aren’t you the one who be—”

You can barely contain your surprised yelp when Jungwoo wraps his arms around your waist and twirls you around in a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he exclaims as he sets you back down.

You’re so frazzled that all you can do is nod. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. You thought you were going to fluster him by calling him handsome and touching his face, but he somehow managed to fluster you instead.

“We’ll give you some time to get changed and prepare what you need,” Jungwoo continues, completely unaware. “My carriage is right over there, so you will know where to go when you’re done.”

You stupidly nod again, stiffly shutting your door. Your face feels like it’ll set on fire at any moment. Just how deprived of touch are you for your body to react like this over a simple hug?

Pull yourself together, you tell yourself, don’t forget who he is.

The carriage ride is horrendously suffocating. The Annoying Guard, as you’ve lovingly dubbed him, insists on riding with the two of you to ensure Jungwoo’s safety—in case you decide to hex him or something. The guard keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword the entire time, glaring daggers at you. Every time you even slightly shift, he jumps.

You’re starting to think that these palace guards are severely overestimating your powers—actually, they aren’t. They’re severely overestimating your ability to care enough to even go through the trouble of hexing Jungwoo.

Jungwoo keeps shooting you apologetic glances, attempting in vain to try and make conversation. The long stretches of silence are deafening, and all you can do is stare out of the window. Your mind keeps wandering to things you don’t want to think about, so you begin to map out all the chores you have to do when you return to your cottage.

You can feel Jungwoo’s stare on you the entire time. He clearly wants to talk to you, but he can’t because of the hawk-like watch of the Annoying Guard. You suppose you’re grateful for that. You’re not really sure if you want to converse with Jungwoo. He’s far too unpredictable for your comfort. You can’t read him like the others, and that intimidates you. He isn’t afraid of you, and it makes you feel...exposed.

Fortunately, you can see the palace from the window, which means this hell of a ride is finally over.

Unfortunately, when you step out of the carriage, the memories that you’ve spent your entire life trying to bury flood through your mind.

The last time you were at the palace was when the decree of your banishment was announced. You remember the palace guards dragging you and your mother out as she pleaded for mercy. She had asked the king to spare you. Of course, he merely scoffed at her and turned away without a second glance. To him, you two were just some of the many witches that he would go on to banish or simply just execute. He was lucky that the witches were a peaceful kind.

You watched as your mother pretended like everything was alright, like she was alright, as the two of you lived in that tiny cottage she managed to build with what little powers she had left. In return, you pretended that you didn’t hear her weep every night. Eventually, she simply just wilted away—a shell of the beautiful flower she once was.

“Oh, my poor child,” she had said with her final breath.

You dig your nails into your palm, hoping the pain will pull you out of the spiral you’re starting to go down. In an attempt to distract yourself, you try to focus on what’s in front of you. However, it’s not something you want to see.

The palace is, without a doubt, the most beautiful piece of architecture you’ve ever seen. Made out of pure ivory marble and adorned with ornate detailing that’s crafted from the most opulent of gold, it’s stunning in every way.

But it makes you sick to your stomach.

This was a mistake. You can’t even look at the palace. What makes you think that you can go in there and face the King? You’re still a weak little girl, and you always will be. Mother would be so ashamed of what a coward you’ve become.

Your inner voice continues to berate you, and you feel like you’ll vomit at any moment.

“Hey,” Jungwoo says gently. His naturally soft-spoken voice can’t be any louder than a whisper, yet it’s powerful enough to pierce through the myriad of unwanted thoughts going through your head.

He pries your hand open, running his thumb across the red, crescent-shaped indents in your palm. You don’t realize how hard you’ve been pressing your nails into your skin until you feel the stinging. Jungwoo’s hand is warm, and it manages to quell your uneasiness significantly.

“You’re alright,” he tells you, lacing his fingers through yours.

It unnerves you how easily he calms you down. It terrifies you to your very core how much power he seemingly has over your emotions. Jungwoo is an enigma, and you must stay far, far away. Everything about him screams trouble.

Pulling your hand away, you grip your skirt instead and take a small step back. He looks, dare you say, hurt by the way you recoil. Nonetheless, he doesn’t acknowledge it and simply clears his throat.

“My father is waiting for us,” Jungwoo says warily.

You tense, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“He isn’t thrilled about your presence, but I swear on my life that he will not harm you,” Jungwoo promises. “I will protect you, no matter what.”

“No,” you interject, “there’s no need. Your father will not lay a finger on me. He has always feared my mother and I, which is why he banished us.”

“You’re trembling, Y/N,” he whispers.

“It doesn’t matter,” you snap, “I have a duty to fulfill, and so I will. My personal feelings will be put aside, just as your father should be doing as well.”

You hate how he looks at you like he understands. Like he knows exactly what you’re feeling. Like he can see into the deepest, most hidden parts of you.

“Very well,” he sighs.

Jungwoo holds out his arm for you to hold. Inhaling deeply, you square your shoulders and straighten your back before taking it. You wore the fanciest dress you owned and made sure your hair was styled to the best of your ability for today. You want to show the King that you are doing just fine, that you still stand strong despite everything he did to you.

The doors to the throne room open, and the two of you are welcomed with a trumpet call that announces the arrival of the Prince. The King is waiting for you, sitting tall on his throne. Despite his commendable posture, his body is weak and feeble. He’s been worn down by age, and his robes hang off of him like they would a skeleton.

“Your Majesty,” Jungwoo greets, bowing.

You don’t follow suit, crossing your arms instead. The King doesn’t even glance at his son, focusing his beady stare at you. You glare back defiantly.

“You’ve gotten old,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

“It seems even vermin like you can survive after all this time,” the King responds gruffly.

“I could say the same for you,” you shoot back.

“You will heal my wife,” he orders, ignoring your insult. “Or else I will make sure you join your mother in Hell.”

The mention of your mother flares up your temper immediately. Clenching your fists, you begin to consider hexing him (maybe Jungwoo’s guards were onto something). You have never really used your powers out of malice, but you’re starting to think it may not be such a bad idea.

“Father,” Jungwoo warns.

“Your words are merely making me want to do the exact opposite, Your Majesty. You should thank every star in the sky that I have already given your son my word,” you say calmly, even though you’re anything but.

“Foolish boy,” the King spits. He says it with so much anger and hatred in his voice that it’s hard to tell that he’s speaking to his own son. “Why do you insist on defying me? Now, you’ve gone and made a deal with a witch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you sigh, “there was no deal.”

“You expect me to believe your lies? You could have easily tricked him into signing away his soul,” the King accuses.

You can’t help but laugh at his absurd claims, shaking your head. “Enough of this. We are simply wasting time.”

You turn to Jungwoo so you can tell him to lead you to his mother, but you’re surprised by the look on his face. His expression is stormy—a mix of anger, guilt, and shame. He’s biting down on his lip so hard that you’re sure that he will draw blood. His fists are tightly balled up by his sides as he stares down at his feet.

It’s clear how much Jungwoo is despises his father, but it’s also obvious how terrified he is of his own bloodline. The same blood that courses through the King also runs through Jungwoo’s veins.

Without thinking, you reach forward and slip your hand into his. He looks up at you with wide eyes, but he no longer seems as upset as he did before. You smile at him, giving his hand a small, comforting squeeze.

“Come on,” you say quietly, “let’s go see your mother.”

Jungwoo nods and grips your hand tightly before the two of you leave the throne room, not sparing the King another glance. You can feel his beady stare follow you as you exit, but you pay him no mind. Jungwoo continues to hold your hand as he leads you down the palace halls, and for some strange reason, you don’t feel the need to pull away.

When you arrive at the Queen’s chamber, only then does Jungwoo let go of your hand. He’s by his mother’s side in an instant, taking a knee by her bedside. You trail behind him, gingerly taking a step closer.

The Queen is a beautiful woman, even when she’s asleep. Her arms are folded across her stomach, and her hair is spilled across her silk pillow. She looks like she just came out of a storybook. However, her beauty is marred by the gray pallor of her skin. Beads of sweat dot her hairline, and her face is fixed in a grimace.

You frown. The grayness of her skin is not natural for a human, and you can sense a strange, familiar, energy flowing from within her.

“It seems your mother has been afflicted by a witch,” you say, examining her state carefully.

“What? How is that possible?” Jungwoo whirls around to face you.

“Either someone in her entourage is a witch or they are simply practicing witchcraft,” you explain, placing the back of your hand on the Queen’s forehead. Her skin is cool to the touch, despite sweating, which concerns you ever further.

Jungwoo still looks like he doesn’t really understand, but he doesn’t linger on the topic. “Will she be alright?”

“Yes,” you reassure him, “it’s a simple spell. I just need to make an antidote.”

“What do you need? I’ll have the maids gather them immediately,” he says, hurriedly standing to his feet.

“That will not be necessary. All the ingredients I need are at my cottage,” you say, already halfway out of the Queen’s chambers, “However, I will ask that you lend me a horse so I can go back and fetch them quickly.”

“I’ll go with you,” he offers, following behind you.

“Afraid that I’ll run off, Your Highness?” you ask, stopping in the middle of the hall and raising an eyebrow. He skids to a halt when you turn to look at him, nearly running into you.

“Jungwoo,” he corrects, “and no. I’m afraid you might run into trouble along the way.”

“You have my gratitude for your concern. However, I am certain that I will be able to handle it,” you respond curtly.

Jungwoo sighs, looking down and smiling to himself. You watch him deadpan before glancing back up at you. “Can’t you leave me just a shred of my dignity?”

“Pardon?”

He takes a step closer to you, leaning his head down so he can meet your eyes. You suck in a breath through your nose sharply, only able to match his gaze for a second before having to avert your eyes. His stare is stronger than any magic or spell, and you are no match for it.

“How many times are you going to make me beg?” Jungwoo asks softly, tilting his head.

“I—I don’t understand,” you stammer, focusing your gaze on the tip of his nose.

“I am quite aware you can handle it. I want to go with you because I would like to spend time with you,” he says, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

“O-Oh,” you say, dumbfounded.

From the short amount of time you’ve known him, Jungwoo has always been extremely forward in everything he approaches. But, surely, this is too forward.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he asks, smirking.

“Doing what?”

“Acting oblivious so I will embarrass myself.”

“No, I—”

“I am only joking, Y/N,” Jungwoo says, laughing.

You blink, staring at him in a daze, before you finally realize that he’s just been teasing you this entire time. Huffing loudly, you whirl around on your heel and begin walking again. Jungwoo easily keeps up with you because of his long strides, no matter how much you quicken your pace.

“Don’t be angry,” he tells you, barely able to hide his grin.

“I have been meaning to say this, but you are much cleverer than you make yourself out to be,” you say in an accusatory tone, glaring at him. “And judging by your behavior now, it seems to be intentional.”

“Is that a bad thing, my lady?”

“Of course it is. It means you’re dangerous,” you snap.

“Then, that would mean you would have to pay more attention to me,” Jungwoo replies smoothly.

You give him a look of disbelief, wondering where the endearing man who had knocked on your door this morning went.

“Come. I’ll show you to the stables,” he says cheerfully.

“I don’t recall saying that I wanted you to go with me,” you remind him.

“Hmm?” he hums, pretending not to hear you.

Shaking your head, you can’t help but laugh a little yourself. It’s difficult not to get swept up in the phenomenon that is Prince Jungwoo. If you were smart, you would put an end to whatever was forming between the two of you. He is simply intrigued by you and wants to joke around, nothing more. Even if it is something romantic, the two of you could never be together. It’s better to draw a line before personal feelings become involved, especially on your end.

It would be so easy to let yourself fall in love with Jungwoo. So easy to let him tear down the walls surrounding your heart. So easy to let yourself need his presence, to crave his touch. So easy to let yourself be happy, even if it’s brief.

But it would be so easy for Jungwoo to destroy you, to trample all over you—and you’re not sure if you could withstand it.

For now, you try not to think about it.

“Have you ridden a horse before?”

You shake your head. “I don’t travel distances in which I will need a horse.”

“And you were planning on going alone, despite having no experience on horseback?” Jungwoo asks, raising an eyebrow.

“How difficult can it be?” you shrug.

He laughs; a bright, clear laugh that sounds like a bell. You’re so mesmerized by it that you almost don’t notice him step closer and place his hands on your waist. You look at him with bewilderment, and he simply smiles at you.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Jungwoo chirps. Without warning, he lifts you up and sets you onto the saddle of his horse as if you’re some sort of child. His hands linger on your waist just for a moment before he pulls them back.

You let out an embarrassing squeak, automatically gripping his shoulders for support. Once you stabilize yourself, you reflexively hit him in the chest before realizing that you just punched the Prince. Luckily, he doesn’t seem that hurt or angry. In fact, it’s the exact opposite.

Jungwoo is grinning so hard that the corners of his eyes have crinkled. He’s looks at you as if you’re the warm breeze during spring, sunshine on a beautiful day, a flower in full bloom—like you’re something wonderful.

“Do not ever do that again,” you warn. You mean to sound authoritative, but your voice teeters between octaves and it comes out as more of a question than a command. You feel like your heart is doing somersaults.

Jungwoo just smiles again and climbs up, situating himself behind you. His arms encase you as he reaches around to grip the reins of the horse. Your back is pressed up against him, and you’re glad you’re turned away from him so he can’t see the bright flush on your cheeks.

“Must we ride together?” you grumble.

“While I admire your confidence, I do not think it would be safe for you to ride on your own,” he explains. He flicks the reins, and the horse begins to trot at an extremely brisk pace.

“You are underestimating me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady.”

“Now you’re being patronizing.”

Jungwoo laughs, and you feel it rustle your hair. Is he really that close to you? What if your hair smells bad? You had washed it with your favorite lavender soap yesterday, but what if—

“I apologize, Y/N. That was not my intention. Once my mother recovers, you are more than welcome to return to the palace, so you can ride a horse by yourself under much safer parameters,” he suggests.

You pause. That sounds like an invitation, and you know that can’t be right. Surely, Jungwoo is not crazy enough to ask you to come back. Right?

You have a sinking feeling that he is genuinely is that crazy, but you won’t allow yourself to even entertain the idea.

Unable to think of a response, you simply keep your mouth shut. The two of you ride in silence for a long stretch of time, but it’s not as awkward as you expect it to be. There’s something about being with Jungwoo that feels natural, comfortable.

“So,” you finally say, “how are you going to find the person who hurt your mother?”

Jungwoo’s face darkens and his expression turns solemn. You suddenly feel guilty. “Truthfully, I haven’t even thought about that yet. I want to make sure that my mother is going to be alright before I worry about anything else.”

“Replace everyone that is close to her, unless you know they are truly trustworthy,” you advise. “Whoever it is has managed to hide their tracks all this time, so you cannot risk it.”

He nods. “Thank you again for helping me once again. I know it was difficult because of my father—”

A loud clap of thunder makes you and Jungwoo jolt, and it’s like a dam in the sky has been opened. Instead of its normal blue, the sky has become a dark, ominous gray in a matter of seconds. The wind howls and the rain comes down with the force of an angry god. Within seconds, the two of you are soaked to the bone. The raindrops feel like you’re being pelted by small, freezing shards of glass.

Jungwoo shifts behind you before you feel the thick material of his cloak drape around your shoulders. He pulls the hood over your head and shields you from the rain with his body.

“Take your cloak back,” you holler over the wind, twisting your body so you can see him. “you’ll get sick!”

You don’t realize how close his face is to your own until he’s right there. Mere inches separate the two of you. You can see the raindrops in his eyelashes and the beads of water on his lips. How could someone look this beautiful in the middle of a thunderstorm?

He smiles softly at you, tugging the hood over your eyes before turning you back around so you can face forward. “I’ll be fine, Y/N.”

Jungwoo only slightly raises his voice, yet his words cut through the chaos. His calm demeanor and the way he’s cradling you against him makes you feel warm and safe. Like you have always belonged in his arms.

“We’re here,” he announces after a few minutes, breathing a sigh of relief. You see your cottage just up a little bit further. “Luckily, we were already close.”

After you arrive, he swings his leg over the horse and climbs down with grace. He holds his arms out to help you, and for once, you let him without any resistance. After finding shelter for his horse, the two of you dash into your cottage. Once you’re inside, you immediately begin to toss wood into your fireplace. With a snap of your fingers, you get a fire started instantly.

You both stand there in silence for a moment, watching the flames crackle as you shiver. However, you’re quickly snapped out of your haze when Jungwoo sneezes. You grab the quilt from your bed and swaddle him in it.

“Sit in front of the fire until you’re warmed up,” you order before going to your bathroom to retrieve some towels.

When you come back, you take a seat beside Jungwoo. Your soaked, ten-pounds-heavier dress, makes a gross squelch as you do. Cringing at the sound, you rise to your knees and begin to dry his hair.

“Don’t worry about me,” he protests, “dry yourself off first.”

“If something happens to you, your father will lop my head off,” you reply. “So, I will most certainly be worrying—”

One his hands reaches up to gently grasp your wrist, and all of your words die inside your throat. His fingertips are cold, yet your entire body feels so hot. He cranes his neck so that he can look up at you. You can see the reflection of the fire in his eyes, literally drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

“Really, Y/N. I’m alright,” he whispers, gaze transfixed on your lips.

You swallow. “I—”

Jungwoo slightly tugs you forward, tilting his head up even further and parting his lips as if he’s going to kiss you. You let out a small gasp, squeezing your eyes shut.

But nothing happens.

You crack open one eye. He releases your wrist and turns away, clearing his throat. His ears are red, and you can see that his cheeks are flushed too. You’re surprised, having never seen him lose his composure like this before.

“Here,” Jungwoo says hoarsely, removing the quilt from around him and handing it to you. “I am plenty warm.”

He takes the towel and begins drying his hair on his own. You stare dumbfoundedly at him with the quilt in your hand. You are certain that he was going to kiss you, so why didn’t he? The confident and headstrong Jungwoo losing his nerve? Impossible.

What’s even worse is that you closed your eyes. You expected it. You wanted it.

The two of you fall quiet, both staring at the fire once again. You can’t tell if the heat on your face is coming from the fire or from within yourself.

“So, you’ve spent almost your entire life in this cottage?” Jungwoo finally asks, turning to look at you.

“Yes,” you simply say as you take another towel and begin drying yourself off. You don’t meet his eye. Frankly speaking, you’re not sure if you can look at him right now without feeling like your heart will burst.

“Do you ever leave? Say, travel for the holidays?”

You laugh. “And where would I go?”

He doesn’t respond.

“I sometimes go to the neighboring town to buy supplies,” you continue. “Though I have to hide my face so the villagers don’t know who I am. Why do you ask?”

“You mentioned before that you don’t go distances in which you’ll need a horse, and that led me to believe that you must not stray far from your cottage,” he answers.

Jungwoo has the same expression on his face that he had when the two of you were in the throne room with the King. There’s a deep crease between his brows, and he’s biting his quivering lip. He looks down at his hands, the towel on his head slipping off and landing on the floor with a pitiful thump. His broad shoulders are drooped, which makes him look smaller.

“Why do you seem so forlorn, Jungwoo?” you ask, carding a hand through his wet hair so you can see him more clearly.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” he says, voice cracking. “My father was the one who drove your mother to death and ruined your life. You’ve been trapped here for the past decade, and it’s all because of us.”

“Jungwoo—”

“I swear to you that your banishment will be lifted,” he promises, placing his hand over your hand that is still in his hair. “I will ascend the throne in a month, and I won’t let you rot away in this cottage. You should be able to see the world. To be free. I—I will not be like my father.”

His words sound more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than you, and you finally understand.

“Going against your father, seeking my help, bringing me to the palace—all of it. Was it because you wanted to differentiate yourself from the King? To prove to yourself that you aren’t following in your father’s footsteps?” you ask quietly.

Jungwoo looks at you with wide eyes. You can see tears glistening in them, and you know you’re right. Sighing, your other hand comes up to rest on his cheek. You lean in, unabashedly staring him in the eyes for the first time since you’ve met him.

“You are not your father. I, of all people, should know best. There is no need to take such drastic measures to convince yourself of it. Just be yourself, Jungwoo. You will be a kind and benevolent king,” you assure him.

“How are you so sure?” he whispers. His voice trembles. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know that you’re selfless and compassionate, even to someone like me,” you answer immediately. “You chose to throw away personal bias and even your own dignity to beg for my help. You are willing to do whatever it takes to help the people you care about. You have more kindness in the tip of your pinky finger than your father has had in his entire lifetime. Your subjects will revere you when you become king.”

Jungwoo is quiet, but you can tell that you’ve hit a chord with him. There’s no longer fear and pain in his expression, but rather, hope. He is still firmly holding your hand to his hair, as if it’s his lifeline. You gently slip your hand out of his grip so you can cup his face with both your hands, lightly pinching his cheeks.

“However, refrain from knocking on witches’ doors willy-nilly from now on. Not many witches are as generous and willing to help like I am. Like your father said, you could very well be tricked into signing your soul away with some,” you warn.

“Signing my soul away to you doesn’t seem so terrible,” Jungwoo muses.

“You must be feeling better if you’re able to make your ridiculous jokes,” you sigh, beginning to pull your hands away.

He catches one of your hands, placing it on his chest and over his heart. You can feel its steady rhythm, versus your own erratic one. You wonder if he’s aware of how effortlessly he’s able to fluster you.

“I’m glad it was you who answered the door, Y/N,” Jungwoo says sincerely. “Truly.”

There he goes again—smiling at you sweetly, as if honey is dripping from his eyes. He gazes at you like you’re his dream, the only thing he wants. It’s almost as if he’s fallen in love with you.

And then the reality of it all crashes down on you.

You yank your hand away from him, scrambling up to your feet. Jungwoo looks up at you with a mix of surprise and concern on his face.

“You’re smitten with me!” you exclaim, pointing an accusatory finger at him. You may have lived most of your life in isolation, but even you can see it now.

“Are you only just now noticing that? I thought I was being quite obvious.” He raises an eyebrow, standing up as well.

“Stop being smitten with me this instant!” you order vehemently.

“If it were only that simple. Besides, I don’t want to,” he replies breezily.

“No, no, no. This cannot happen,” you mutter, beginning to pace.

“Why not?” he asks as he watches you go back and forth.

“We can’t,” you insist.

“Says who?” he shoots back.

“Everyone! Can’t you see? You are the soon-to-be-King, and I am a witch. The witch your father banished. Think about the debacle that would take place if we became lov—er, involved with each other. Your reputation will be ruined,” you explain, frustrated that he doesn’t understand.

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks, except for you.” Jungwoo states.

“Don’t you wish to have any respect from your subjects and allies?” you hiss.

“None of that matters. What do you feel, Y/N?”

“It—it doesn’t matter what I feel,” you say, turning away. “We can never be together anyway.”

He stares at you, long and hard. “You’re afraid.”

“No, I’m realistic.”

“You’re using the fact that you’re a witch as a shield. You don’t allow yourself to feel anything simply because others see you as lesser, and you believe them. You’ve become comfortable like this, blockading off any sort of emotion and using the fear that others have of you as a buffer so you won’t get hurt. Your heart is trapped, just like you are inside this cottage. You’re afraid that if you leave, you might genuinely feel something,” Jungwoo continues, “—No, you’re afraid because you’re already starting to.”

He’s right, of course. Somehow, he’s always right when it comes to you. It’s so easy for him to unravel the feelings you’ve been suppressing. From the moment he laid eyes on you, Jungwoo has always been looking at you. Not the Witch of the Forest, not the fearsome creature that his father banished, not a tool that solely exists to achieve what he needs, but you. He’s found the real you, no matter how hard you try to hide.

But it doesn’t mean you won’t try.

“You talk as if you know everything about me,” you snap, “In reality, we’re nothing but strangers. The heart is a fickle thing, Jungwoo. You may think you’re in love with me today, but what about three days from now? A month? A year? You will be able throw me away without a second thought, but what will be left of me? I don’t have the luxury to act impulsively on my feelings like you. I only have myself, and I can’t afford to be hurt.”

“Do you truly think so lowly of me, Y/N? I would never hurt you,” he promises.

“You cannot predict the future,” you say quietly.

“Exactly! Are you going to live based off sheer possibilities alone?”

You don’t respond.

“What will you do then? Force yourself to never feel anything for anyone and stay in this cottage for the rest of your life?” Jungwoo asks.

“And what if I do?” you retort.

“You may have magic, but no enchantment can overpower your heart,” he says, shaking his head. “It is indeed be fickle at times, but you’ll be surprised to see how resolute and painful it can be.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say again.

Jungwoo takes a minuscule step closer, gently putting his hands on your arms. He touches you as if you’re made of glass, a pained expression his face. “It does matter. Why do you keep dismissing your feelings like this? Why must you insist on hurting yourself?”

“Because it hurts one hundred times less if I do it, rather than someone else,” you whisper.

A tear falls from your left eye, and Jungwoo’s thumb swipes it away. His hands dwarf your face as they come up to cradle it. He holds your face like your eyes are made up of diamonds and your lips rubies. Pulling you close, his arms envelop your shoulders and your face is buried in his chest. Both of your clothes are still wet, yet it feels like you’ve been embraced by a ray of sunshine.

Your hands remain by your side as Jungwoo hugs you tightly. You’re to afraid to move, fearing that you’ll shatter the moment. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember this moment in perfect detail. You tell yourself that this, too, is fleeting.

“You are strong, Y/N. Stronger than any person I’ve ever known,” he mutters against the crown of your head, “but it’s okay now. You are no longer alone. Let yourself cry, get angry, be happy. There’s no need to bottle it up any longer.”

You feel yourself let out a sob, a sob that racks through your entire body. Trembling violently, your hands slowly reach up to place themselves on his back, curling your fists tightly into the fabric of his shirt. Hot tears flow freely from your eyes as you press your face farther into his chest.

You hate yourself for succumbing to your emotions, and you hate yourself even more for doing it in front of Jungwoo. However, it also makes you feel liberated. Jungwoo’s arms are a safe haven, and it makes you want to forget everything and run away with him. It makes you want to be reckless and impulsive, just like him.

“—Your Highness!”

The door to your cottage is suddenly kicked down, and a swarm of palace guards barge in, with the Annoying Guard leading the pack. You try to pull away from Jungwoo, but he holds onto you tighter before moving you behind him. His arm is protectively in front of you, as he shields you with his body once again.

“What have you done to him, witch?” the Annoying Guard demands, pointing his sword at you.

“Nothing,” Jungwoo responds, glaring at him. “What on Earth are you doing? Stand down.”

“You’ve cast a dark spell on the Prince!”

“She has not! I will say it one more time, stand down,” Jungwoo orders.

Seeing Jungwoo’s expression, the Annoying Guard slowly sheathes his sword. “Y-Your Highness? Is it really you?”

“Who else would it be?” Jungwoo huffs with annoyance.

“Why are you protecting the witch?”

“Because you’re trespassing and also threatening her. Why did you come anyway?” Jungwoo asks, gritting his teeth.

“His Majesty told us to make sure you were alright, since it’s storming,” the Annoying Guard ducks his head meekly. “We have a carriage for you.”

Jungwoo tells them all to get out before turning to check on you. By this point, you’ve already collected yourself. You’ve wiped away your tears and regained your composure. You look back at him coolly, refusing to let yourself break down like that again.

“Y/N—”

“Wait for me outside. I just need a second to collect all of the ingredients for the antidote, and then I will be out shortly,” you say curtly.

He looks like he wants to argue at first but obediently retreats a moment later. When he’s out of an earshot, you harshly slap your cheeks. The stinging rings through your entire body, like a wake up call from the gods themselves. You had let yourself pretend for a moment when Jungwoo hugged you, but the cold, sobering truth of it all is more apparent than ever.

If Jungwoo were to truly stay with you, his sanity would be questioned by his peers at every moment. Eventually, he too would begin to wonder if his feelings were conjured by your magic. The happiness the two of you would have will only last for a moment, and you can’t allow yourself to have a taste of it.

Because you know you won’t be able to walk away from him.

The carriage ride back is just as awful as the first time, perhaps even more so. The cloak that Jungwoo lent you has been snatched away by the Annoying Guard, so you’re left to shiver in your half-wet dress. Jungwoo is being swathed in towels and even provided a thick jacket, but all you get is a rag that looks like it’s been used to wipe the floor. Jungwoo tries to give you his jacket, but you ignore him and keep your gaze trained on the window.

When you arrive at the palace, the two of you are immediately ushered up to the Queen’s chambers by a frantic maid. Her condition worsened during the storm, and you can feel her life force fading. The King is there too, but he doesn’t say a word. His lips are in a thin line and his face is somber. You can see in his eyes that he’s pleading with you to save his wife.

You manage to whip up the antidote in record time, carefully pouring it into the Queen’s mouth with a spoon. Within minutes, the color returns to her face and her breathing becomes normal. You place a hand on her forehead, breathing a sigh of relief when you feel warmth return to her skin.

The Queen’s eyes begin to flutter, and you quickly withdraw your hand. You turn to Jungwoo. “She should be alright now. Let her recuperate for a couple of days just to make sure.”

“You have my eternal gratitude, Y/N. I—”

“Jungwoo?” The Queen’s feeble voice whispers. She’s slowly coming to, blindly reaching out for her son. The King perks up too, but he doesn’t move towards her.

“Mother,” he responds immediately, “I’m here.”

You watch him kneel by her bedside, taking her hand. They speak to each other in hushed tones, and you realize that Jungwoo must get his soft-spoken voice from his mother. The tenderness between them warms your heart, but it also wrenches it because it’s even more proof that you don’t belong here.

Taking advantage of the fact that Jungwoo is distracted, you easily manage to slip out of the room. It doesn’t occur to you until you walk out of the palace and pass by the stables that you don’t have any means of transportation. There’s no way any palace guard will agree to take you back by carriage, and you can’t just borrow a horse because you will have to return it.

You’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice a maid walking toward you and crash right into her. She’s carrying a bale of hay and it goes flying, straws of hay exploding into the air. You stagger backwards, trying to avoid it. The maid lets out a squeal and falls onto her rear pretty hard.

“I’m so sorry,” you say hurriedly, stretching out your hand to help her up. “I was distracted and did not see you.”

“It’s alright, I did not see you either,” the maid winces, grabbing your hand and letting you pull her to her feet. “I will sweep this up in a moment. I apologize for the mess, my lady.”

Her words are lost to you. Instead, you’re focused on the immense amount of magic you felt flowing through her when she touched your hand. It’s the strongest magic you’ve felt in a very long time.

“So it was you,” you realize, narrowing your eyes. “Hiding in plain sight.”

The maid blinks before her lips curl into an evil smirk. “Well, well, you’ve finally caught me. Honestly, I’m disappointed. I thought you’d find me much sooner. Surely, finding a measly witch like me should have been child’s play for the Witch of the Forest.”

“I’ve been preoccupied,” you answer, gritting your teeth. “What is your name?”

“Joohyun,” she says. Joohyun flicks her wrist, and the hay is suddenly rearranged into the perfect block it was before. “Are you going to tell Prince Jungwoo, my lady?”

“I will not betray one of my kind so easily. However, I want to know why you chose to harm the Queen.”

“That old geezer, the King, really loves her. Even though he doesn’t act like it. I figured the only way to truly make him suffer the way he made us is to target his family,” Joohyun says breezily, shrugging.

“The Queen and Prince Jungwoo are innocent in all of this. Do not drag them into our affairs,” you chastise, though you understand where she is coming from.

Joohyun raises an eyebrow before she smiles knowingly. “I had been curious as to why you agreed to help the Queen, but I see now. You’re fond of Prince Jungwoo.”

Were you that easy to read?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snap.

“Whatever you say,” Joohyun replies nonchalantly, a glint in her eye. “Then, I suppose you won’t mind if Prince Jungwoo is my next target?”

You scowl, your eyes flashing dangerously at her. “Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not, my lady,” she backs down. She still has a smirk on her face, but you can tell she’s nervous now. “It was a joke.”

“It would do you well to watch your tongue. I am warning you now to not lay a finger on the King’s family. Incurring my anger will make you wish that I had turned you over to the Prince,” you say calmly.

“I apologize, my lady.” Joohyun bows her head.

“Go,” you order.

She obediently picks up the bale of hay before scurrying off. You watch her disappear behind the palace doors, releasing the breath you had been holding. You know Joohyun will tread more carefully now, which is a solace to you only slightly. A part of you wants to run back inside and immediately tell Jungwoo, but you force yourself to turn on your heel and begin walking away.

The two of us have nothing to do with each other now, you tell yourself.

As if on cue, you hear a distant voice calling out to you.

“Y/N!”

You know who it is, and you know you should keep walking. But your feet drag to an eventual stop, refusing to listen to your brain. Stiffly, you turn.

Jungwoo is running up to you, bridging the gap between you and the palace easily. When he’s in front of you, he reaches down and grabs the sleeve of your dress with two fingers, as if he’s afraid you’ll run away. For now, you allow him to.

“If you’re leaving, I’ll escort you,” he says, slightly breathless.

“No,” you respond, “I will walk.”

“Y/N—”

“This is not up for negotiation, Your Highness,” you cut him off, harshly tugging your sleeve away. “I did what you requested, so our business is finished. Therefore, there is no need to involve ourselves with each other anymore.”

You can tell you’re hurting him. Jungwoo takes a step closer, and you take one back. His outstretched hand falls limply at his sides. His eyes have lost their usual mischievous sparkle, flickering like a dying ember. You feel like there’s a knife being twisted into your side. How did you manage to connect so deeply to him that you can’t stand to see him upset, despite only meeting him today?

“In two weeks time,” he starts quietly, “my coronation ball will be held. Would you accompany me?”

You let out a small laugh. Even though you’re trying your hardest to hurt him, Jungwoo remains persistent like he always is.

“You know that I will not,” you say, shaking your head. “Ask someone else.”

“I want to go with you.”

You sigh, and against your better judgement, you place a hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch, clutching your wrist. “You will forget about me soon enough, Your Highness.”

“I won’t.”

“Once you’re king, I’ll be nothing more than a bad dream,” you continue. “Don’t let a temporary feeling ruin your future.”

“Why do you keep discounting the way I feel?” he asks furiously. “You keep saying that I’ll throw you away, hurt you, forget about you—it’s cruel, Y/N.”

“It’s the truth, Your Highness. You’ll see.”

“Jungwoo,” he finally corrects again, frustrated. “Please, call me Jungwoo.”

“Joohyun,” you suddenly blurt out, ignoring him. You couldn’t help yourself. If you are truly never going to see him again, you had to tell him.

“What?”

“The maid,” you clarify. “She’s the one who cursed your mother.”

“I—thank you,” he says dumbfoundedly, confused at the sudden change in topic.

“Don’t punish her too harshly,” you request.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I were in her position,” you answer honestly.

He doesn’t respond, looking at you with a wistful expression. The two of you fall into a brief moment of silence, staring into each other’s eyes. You don’t have as much trouble holding his gaze anymore, but it still makes your mind go blank. Your eyes travel over every inch of his face, committing it to your memory. You wish you could remember the sensation of his skin against your fingertips.

“Stay,” he pleads.

The hand on his face travels to the back of his neck, so you can bring him down to your level. You step on your tip-toes, placing a feather-light kiss on his cheek. When you pull back, you rest your forehead against his.

“Goodbye, Jungwoo.”

And so, the two weeks pass in what seems like a matter of seconds.

You’ve managed to somewhat return to your routine, but all of your efforts are shattered when the night of Jungwoo’s coronation ball arrives. During the day, you had been aimlessly pacing around in your cottage and doing the same chores over and over again. It was like you were in a trance.

Now, you’re laying in bed—wide awake. You kick the covers off, suddenly feeling extremely hot, before tossing and turning in an attempt to tire yourself out. It is useless; your mind always seems to come back to him.

You wonder if he’ll meet a beautiful princess from a neighboring country at the ball and instantly fall in love with her. The two of them would be perfect for each other. They would be the subject of envy throughout the kingdom. Their reign would be a prosperous one, and they would bear such lovely children. Jungwoo would be so happy, and that hurts you so more than you would like to admit. You know you’re being selfish now, but you—

You nearly scream when you hear a frantic knocking on your door. Instantly sitting up, you listen to the knocking for a little longer. Your heart is racing, and you can’t fight the hope building up in your chest. Getting out of your bed, you slowly approach your door and crack it open.

Jungwoo is standing there, in full royal regalia. He’s panting, shoulders heaving up and down with effort. His collar is popped, and you can see a bead of sweat roll down his neck. His hair is mussed and stuck to his forehead. He’s clutching a piece of paper in one hand.

At first, you think he’s a hallucination but then he speaks.

“By my royal decree, your banishment has officially been lifted,” he declares, still out of breath. He smooths out the crumpled piece of paper and shows it to you. It looks like it was written by a child. There are ink splatters everywhere, the writing is barely legible, and the signature looks like chicken scratch. Most people would not believe it was an official document if it were not for the royal seal stamped at the bottom.

“Wha—”

“You were wrong,” Jungwoo interrupts, “I didn’t forget about you. And trust me, I tried. I tried so damn hard because you were so cruel. You’ve only ever diminished my feelings for you, and you were the one that threw me away when I begged for you to stay. You walked all over my heart like it was your personal doormat, yet I missed you. I wanted to see you again, even if it would hurt. So, I wrote a decree on a piece of parchment paper without consulting or informing any of my advisors and then came to find you during the middle of my coronation ball. And here I am again, pouring my heart out in front of you like a fool—”

You throw yourself at him, and he just barely manages to catch you. His arms are tightly wrapped around you as you grab his collar and crush your lips against his. Jungwoo makes a small noise of surprise before he eventually reciprocates. He kisses you like you’ll disappear at any moment, and he holds you like it too. Even when you pull away, he presses you firmly against him.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” you mumble against his lips. “You are much too good for me, Jungwoo. But I selfishly missed you too. So much.”

“If it means you’ll be by my side, hurt me as much you’d like,” Jungwoo says, his fingers entangling themselves in your hair.

The two of you share another kiss under the glow of the moonlight, whispering promises to each other that you know you shouldn’t keep.

Yet, you aren’t afraid anymore.

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #ncitynetwork #neocaratnet #nct imagines #nct scenarios #jungwoo fluff #jungwoo angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct 127 imagines #nct u fluff #nct u angst #nct u imagines #jungwoo #nct #choerrypuffs

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awkwardspontaneity · 3 years

Text

Found My Home

ISo this is my Secret Santa work for @just-a-belgian-girl I am so sorry, this was supposed to be out on Christmas, but then I got majorly distracted sooo sorry bout that hun. Anyways here is a Sirius x reader dedicated to you. pls forgive me, I got very carried away and i’m not a writer

@johnmurphyisqueer @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis thanks to both of you for including me in this!! It was super amazing of you both and ILY!!

Sirius x Female Reader 1211 words

Sirius could remember his first Christmas away from home. His first year at Hogwarts not only did he make a group of the best friends he could ask for, but also found his new home. You might think he was talking about his house, but anyone who grew up around the Marauders could see that he really meant his best friend. Y/n.

Sirius and Y/n had the kind of friendship where you couldn’t be in the same room as them for long without feeling like you were intruding on something that meant so much more. Only the few people the two trusted, their fellow Marauders, were included in the aura the friends possessed. The moment their circle truly came to be was that Christmas when Sirius, without giving the real reason to his friends, announced he would be staying at Hogwarts for the holiday break. He remembered the nerves, tight in his stomach, as he watched his friends share looks he couldn’t read. But then they all nodded and seemed to say at once, “Marauders Christmas.”

“You didn’t think we’d let you spend Christmas alone did you?” Y/n smiled at him, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

James flopped into his other side sending him a wicked grin, “Besides, imagine all the pranks we can set up before everyone gets back.”

And then they all burst into giggles, a warmth bubbling in Sirius’ stomach as they started planning.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Christmas had gone off exactly as they had planned, with Y/n flipping the boys off their couches bright and early Christmas morning, shouting about wasting daylight. Any other day Sirius would have grumbled about his beauty sleep, but today he was met with the sight of Y/n shoving a brightly wrapped box in his face. To this day, he denies the heavy blush on his cheeks as he took the present from his hyperactive friend.

Unrelated, he also may have ended up slamming a pillow into James’ face after a considerable amount of teasing.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

This became a tradition for the small group. No matter what happened the five would always end up together for the holiday season, sharing gifts and setting pranks. It wasn’t until their 5th year that things really changed. Y/n hyperactive as always, had demanded they make gingerbread cookies Christmas eve. Of course Sirius had agreed immediately, taking his friends hand to pull himself off the couch. James and Remus were in the middle of a match of wizards chess and opted to stay in the common room. (Peter had fallen asleep immediately after dinner) Nodding Y/n turned to the door while Sirius stood there, brows furrowed, trying to understand why his friends would turn down the opportunity to raid the kitchens.

Without looking away from the game, James' mouth stretched into a smirk, “Go get em mate.”

Sirius’ mouth dropped open at the same moment a soft hand slipped into his. “C’mon Pads, we gotta go if we’re gonna have any cookies for Christmas.”

Ears burning, Sirius let himself be tugged out the door to the sound of the boys cackling.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Upon arriving in the kitchens, the duo was informed that there was gingerbread cookie batter made and they could take as much as they wanted to shape. Y/n let out an excited squeak as she jumped forward immediately attempting to lift the entire bowl, something that might have weighed almost as much as she did. Laughing, Sirius took her hands off the bowl instead handing her a smaller one. “How about we take what we can actually carry love.”

Flushing, the girl ducked her head as she scooped enough batter for the smaller bowl. Finishing she looked up to meet his dark eyes, staring at her so softly she felt her heart squeeze in her chest. “Ca-can you grab the trays?”

Soon, the two teens were standing at the counter shaping cookies as they giggled softly. Y/n kept leaning over the bowl in attempts to see the shapes Sirius was crafting, each time being blocked by his taller frame. She continued her antics, poking at his sides in between cookies as he laughed and swatted at her hands. “Come oonnnnn. I just wanna see what they look like.”

“You can see them after they’re done.”

“But you looked so focused! I wanna know why.” She hopped towards him again, her own tray having been set in the oven she had nothing left to do but bother him. Unfortunately for her, he was much taller and all he had to do was lift the tray above her head so he could put it in the oven without revealing anything. Closing the door he turned back to her with a smug grin as he grabbed her arms to stop her once again.

“Quit pouting you baby, you’ll get to look at them all you want later.”

“Promise?” Y/n looked up at him with big eyes, sticking her lips out in a pout. He swore his heart was about to jump from his throat as he stared at her soft lips.

“You can even have one.” They shared a smile standing in the kitchens. Not a word shared as Y/n carefully stepped forward just a bit, sending him a soft smile as her eyes scanned his face. She gently reached up to place her hand on his cheek, brushing her thumb against the scruff. “How did you manage to get flour on your face?”

Sirius let out a soft laugh, leaning into her soft hands with a grin. “Maybe I’d have been cleaner if someone wasn’t trying to jump over my shoulders.”

He stepped closer, leaning his head down to touch hers as they giggled, reveling in the moment. Here in eachothers arms, he couldn’t imagine himself anywhere else. With anyone else. No matter where they went, he could always reach out and she would be there. His best friend. The one to wrap his injuries while she told him off. His home.

“I love you.”

His eyes snapped open upon realizing he’d said it out loud. Swallowing hard, he finally met her eyes and once again, lost his breath. Y/n was staring up at him with glassy eyes and he knew. She looked at him like he was the world, and she was his galaxy, holding all the stars in her e/c eyes.

“I love you too.”

And then he kissed her. His arms finding their way around her waist as her hands tangled into his hair. It was soft and quick, like he had all the time in the world, but still had to make up for the time he missed. All the years knowing her, it finally made sense. He was home. Here at school with his best friends, and the one he loved.

Finally breaking apart, the two stayed holding each other close. Breaths mingling in the small space between. Y/n let out a small giggle, “Y’know if you had waited any longer, James was gonna ambush us with mistletoe.”

Sirius barked out a laugh, pulling her into his arms. “Yeah, he would do something like that.” he pressed a kiss against the top of her head, “Merry Christmas love.”

“Wait the cookies!”

#secret santa #sirius black x reader #sirius black #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #merry chrisis

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wrens-aviary · 4 years

Text

Trust Me Chapter 2

Hello. Welcome to chapter 2. I hate making websites with html. School is not fun idk why I do this to myself. Sorry that’s unrelated. Here is the next chapter. I am making this like the same time as the movie.

Playlist for chapter 2: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL_WXTMoBYYTO0edlpRY4Gr_EeEvnQ-RzS

I open my eyes and stare at the wood ceiling above me drenched in darkness. I’m not sure if I was really asleep or if my eyes were simply closed as my mind wandered. I am not home, but is there really a place for me to call home? Maybe this is the closest I have. The Couffaines seem nice, and Anarka knew my mom. They were friends. Mom. As I think of her my hand reaches to the chain around my neck. This ring is all I have of her. I’ll never take it off.

As I shift in the bed I feel quite... stale is the best word to describe it. I’ve been wearing the same clothes for two days. I didn’t have time to change after going to the hospital and after the plane ride and nap I just took I feel gross. I stand up and move toward the door unsure of the time. I quietly slide my door open and move toward the main deck needing to feel a little less caged.

I breath in deep. The air outside is cool and crisp. It must be late in the night as I can see the stars so clearly. Staring up into the sky I hear the soft strumming of a guitar. I move back toward the stairs and climb past the control deck to the upper deck. Luka is sitting in a chair on the other side of a ping pong (table tennis) table holding a guitar. He looks so peaceful. The music he plays sounds melancholic. It’s beautiful, just like him. What? nope? I didn’t just think that?

“Did you sleep alright?” He asks without looking away from the water or stopping what he’s playing.

“Not sure,” I respond as I walk to the railing and lean over looking out at the water. The way it reflects the stars is mesmerizing. “Why is it so sad?” I question the tune he’s playing.

“I wouldn’t say its all sad.”

I look back at him and our eyes meet. He smiles softly as my expression remains still. After a moment I turn to look back at the water.

“There’s a girl,” he starts, “she is a friend of my sister, and I like her, but she’s in love with someone else and even if she doesn’t realize it yet I already know that she can’t let him go.”

“And she knows how you feel?”

“Yeah. She’s known for a while. She’s been saying recently she want’s to move on, but I know she’s not ready. I told her to think about things while she’s on her class trip in New York, and I’m afraid that when they get back tomorrow she’s going to tell me what I already know.”

I feel sorry for Luka but it sounds like its best for her to admit things now than string him along only to admit later that she can’t love him the way she loves this other boy. “I hope that she can be as honest about her feelings with you as you were with her. No matter what happens it would be best to make future decisions based on the truth. Even if she can’t let go now she may still want to try and move on with you, and at that point it becomes your decision although...” I pause questioning if I should share my own thoughts or if he’d rather not be swayed in this decision... “I would never want to waste my time loving someone who may never love me back,” I whisper the end, but I am sure he still heard me.

I turn away from the water and move toward the stairs and Luka, “You all wouldn’t happen to have a shower on this boat?” I question lightly hoping to ease the tension in the air.

“Yeah,” he smiles as he moves his guitar and stands from his chair. He’s taller than me. As I look up at him I can’t stop myself from thinking how pretty his eyes are. And in this moment... my stomach growls... yeah... it sounds like a whole ass whale just fucking signaled that I haven’t eaten in over 24 hours. As I look down in embarrassment hoping that my face isn’t completely red I hear him giggle softly. Holy shit. He just giggled and I think it was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

“Sorry, I was so nervous on the plane I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything so I’m a little hungry,” I explain smiling at him shyly. Honestly if that giggle hadn’t given me the strength to persevere I probably would have just curled up into a ball on the deck and died right there.

“How about I show you were the bathroom is and heat up some food while you shower?” Wow he’s so thoughtful and amazing... AND IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE GET A GRIP GIRL HE LITERALLY JUST TOLD YOU HE LIKES HIS SISTER’S FRIEND!

“Yeah, that would be really nice. Thank you so much Luka, but you really don’t need to make anything. If you show me where the kitchen is I can make something for myself after I shower. I wouldn’t want you to have to cook just for me.”

“I was kind of hungry anyways so it’s fine. How do feel about spaghetti?”

“Perfect,” I say smiling at him.

“Great!” He begins to move down towards the lower deck and I follow. We pass by a kitchen that I hadn’t noticed before and move back towards the rooms. Just past the rooms Luka slides open a door and turns on a light. It’s a small, but nice looking bathroom. I’m rather surprised how little clutter there is in the bathroom given the state of the rest of the boat. “There are clean towels under the sink and we all use the same shampoo and bodywash, you can use a small wash rag from under the sink for now and we’ll get you your own loofah tomorrow. There should be an unopened toothbrush in the cabinet above the sink as well. I’ll be in the kitchen whenever you finish.”

-in the shower-

As I wash up I can’t help but admire the soap the Couffaine’s use. Luka must always smell really nice. That may be the creepiest thing I’ve ever thought about another person ohmygod please I need to stop. I am only thinking these things because I’m trying to distract myself from the shit show that is my life in this moment. Yeah. That’s it. It’s not like I could actually like this guy. I barely know him he’s just being nice and I’m feeling lonely that’s it.

As soon as I step out of the shower and begin to dry off I realize I didn’t grab any clean clothes from my room.

“Crap,” not even a second later I hear a soft nock at the bathroom door. “Hello?”

“Hey y/n, I realized after I started cooking you may not have anything to change into so I grabbed one of my tee-shirts and some sweatpants for you if you want them.”

Ohmygod is he a saint? wtf this boy is not even real I swear.

“Yeah, I’ll take you up on that,” I respond as I wrap my towel around me and slide the door open half way hiding most of my body behind it and leaning a bit to see Luka holding a small pile of neatly folded clothing... is he... blushing??? Wow that’s fucking adorable.

“Thank you Luka,” I say as I reach out to accept the clothing he’s offered to me. As he gives them to me our hands touch and I swear my entire being got a whole two degree’s warmer.

“I’ll go wait in the kitchen. The pasta’s done so I’ll just split it into two bowls.”

“Yeah I’ll be there in a minute. Thanks again Luka, for the clothes and for cooking, and everything else really. You’ve treated me really well since I got here. It means a lot to me,” I say as I look to the side of the doorway unable to keep eye contact with the boy. As I slowly look back to him I see him smiling at me. He really does have a sweet smile. “Anyways, I’m gonna change now,” I say as I realize that I’m standing before Luka still wrapped in a towel.

“Yeah, I’ll see you in the kitchen,” he says as he turns around and I slide the door shut. Is my heart beating fast? I don’t know anymore. As I begin to pull on the clothes he handed me I feel much more comfortable. The tee-shirt is black, soft, and just a little baggy on me, and the sweatpants are the same.

After towel drying my hair a bit I hang up the towel to dry and exit the bathroom turning the light off as I go. I walk toward the kitchen and find Luka sitting at a kitchen island with a bowl of spaghetti sitting before him. He seems to be writing in some sort of notebook as he waits.

“Hey,” I say as I slide onto the barstool next to him and look at the bowl in front of me. There’s still a bit of steam coming off of it.

“Hey, I hope the clothes aren’t too big,” he responds as he sits the notebook down on the counter. I only saw a bit of the inside, but it looked to be staff paper. He must compose a lot of music he was working in the back of the notebook.

As I look up from the notebook I meet his gaze and realize I hadn’t responded yet, “Oh yeah they’re great actually. I always prefer loungewear to be a bit big on me.” He nods in response and we both begin eating. It’s a comfortable quite as we sit there eating together.

Before I know it I’ve finished my bowl and I feel quite full. I look up to see that Luka has also finished eating. He’s smiling at me.

“Thank you. It was really good,” I smile back at him.

“No problem. I’m usually hungry so if you ever want to eat with some company just text me.”

“Oh... I don’t have a phone,” I respond and he looks a tiny bit surprised. “My father didn’t like my mother and I having access to people other than him.” At my explanation Luka furrows his brows. He looks concerned. “He’s not a very good man. That’s why I’m here. My mother is dying, and if I stayed there he would have controlled me the same way he did her so she sent me away.” I reach up to stroke the ring on my necklace as I speak. “Apparently our mother’s were friends when they were younger. They were even in a band together.” I smile as I imagine how happy and free my mother must have felt back then.

I sigh as I lean back in my chair and place my hands down on the counter in front of me. Luka slowly moves his own hand over mine and holds it. We look at each other and as he smiles at me and squeezes my hand lightly he speaks, “I’m glad you’re here y/n, and I promise I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you’re happy here.”

“Thank you Luka.” I don’t know who this other guy that his crush likes is, but he must be a superhero or something because I don’t think any normal person could outshine Luka Couffaine.

After helping Luka clean up we head back toward our rooms.

“How about I take you out tomorrow to get anything you need?” Luka offers.

“I’d like that. Thank you Luka... I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” I say before sliding open my door and slipping into my room. Just before I close it I hear him respond with a soft goodnight.

As I lay in my bed and drift off to sleep I find myself thinking of the soft sad tune that Luka was playing earlier on the upper deck. It was beautiful, but I hope that it will change. Luka deserves to be happy and I want to hear him play a song that is warm and hopeful because that is how he makes me feel.

#luka couffaine #luka couffaine x reader #mlb fanfic #mlb luka #mlb #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous #miraculous lb #miraculous luka #waptrustme

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