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shotmrmiller · 4 months

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Submitting to his dominance— part III

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

TW: dubious-con???, light mentions of violence, tied up for a moment, biting, thigh riding, fingering, edging, unprotected p in v, creampie, this is just vulgar idk what to say.

WC: 3k

A/N: this is it. i didn't plan on using the small drabble of jealousy for this but it worked better for me in the end. this is totally self-indulgent gg yall

You’re on a call with a friend, excitedly discussing your upcoming date with Gaz. Telling her how the both of you are still getting to know each other, just dipping your toes in the water— but the chemistry you both felt was natural, and your friend was screaming on the other end of the line, excited for you.

Approaching your front door, you’re giggling at something they said when you turn your doorknob and push. It opens. Unlocked. You never leave your flat unlocked. After a moment, you let your friend know you’ll call her later and pivot, dialing the police. Just as you’re about to leave, a recognizable voice comes from the other side of the door.

“Get inside, pet.”

Ghost.

Resolutely shaking your head, you firmly say, “No. I blocked you for a reason. Stay here as long as you like, I’m going to Johnny’s.”

In a split second, you find yourself yanked back by a forceful hand clutching onto your hair, causing a jolt of pain as a few strands give way. The grip on your hair intensifies, and you're forcefully dragged into your apartment, confined within its walls with a slam of the door.

“Are you fucking—”, Ghost cuts you off with a rough palm over your mouth. Anger surges through your veins, nostrils flaring, and you lift your arm to strike him when he uses the hand covering your mouth to slam your head against the wall— not too hard but with just enough strength to remind you of the position you’re in. Who you’re in here with.

“Hands to yourself, girl. You’d be pickin’ a fight you couldn’t even dream of winnin’.”

Maybe he had a suspicion that you’d test him again because he swiftly rotated you and fastened your wrists with zip ties behind you— before turning you around once again to face him.

How fucking dare he. Oh, if looks could kill.

You give him the most hateful scowl you can muster, and he looks at you for just a second, almost mockingly. He lifts the mask to uncover his mouth and then tries to press his lips to your neck, but that’s not about to happen. You move your head and shoulder to prevent him from getting anywhere near, when he moves his hand to fist your hair and yanks. You don’t know what made your eyes tear up. If it’s the stinging ache of your scalp or the twinge in your neck from how hard he pulled. It was silly of you to think he wouldn’t just take what he wants— he’s done it so far.

Ghost has the nerve to chuckle as if he didn’t almost break your neck.

“Don’t be dramatic, pet. If I wanted y’dead, you wouldn’t have even seen me coming.”

Not realizing you spoke aloud, you’re about to purposefully speak your mind when his lips latch onto the delicate skin of your neck, sucking hard, to the point of pain. And he does it again, on the other side. The sting of his hickeys causes you to whimper, and you assume he likes the noise that involuntarily slips out of you because he grinds his clothed erection against your core while sucking a mark on the fluttering vein in your neck.

Ghost pulls back, fist still in your hair, and rubs his thumb across the throbbing bruises as if admiring his work. “Hey,” and moves his shirt to reveal his neck— showing you a half dozen blotchy marks that his other conquests put there, and with mirth says, “We match.”

You start thrashing at that, as best you can while being restrained, and the intense fury of why you even blocked him in the first place comes back to the forefront of your mind.

“Get the fuck off of me!” you scream. You raise your leg to kick him when he readily grabs it, effortlessly lifting you off the floor. He lets your one leg hang over the arm he has sturdily planted on the wall before grabbing the other to do the same— and pins you flat with his hips, bulge pressed firmly against your cunt. Your arms ache with pain as they are ruthlessly pinned behind you against the wall, pulling a hiss of agony from you.

“Now, now,” he taunts, “There’s no need to get pissy over me sleeping with someone else. Y’asked for a fuck, not a boyfriend, lovie.”

“Yeah,” you grit out, “You’ve made that clear enough, with your little flings Johnny told me about.”

“Aw, and tha’s got your knickers in a twist, does it?” he grinds his hips, “Would you believe me if I said tha’ you’re the prettiest?”

You snort. “Piss off— and actually piss the fuck off. You can go get your dick wet with someone else.”

“Why would I wanna do that when I got y’here spread open so willingly f’me?” and grinds his hips again.

You were about to retort about the ‘willingly’ being questionable when he latches onto your skin again but this time, he sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder. Your nails dig into your palms, eyes welling with tears at the sharp pain of the bite.

“Ah— stop, please stop” and it feels like he bites down even harder before finally relenting. His teeth come off your skin leaving behind a dark, angry purple imprint.

“You sound so pretty when you beg, pet.”

Ghost looks up from the bite to your eyes and notices them glassy with unshed tears— licking off the ones that did spill. He trails soft stubbly kisses from your jawline to the corner of your mouth almost to coax it open. You wish you were a stronger person to resist his allure, but his mystique pulled you into his orbit. His touch ignited the spark in you to a flame, and you cave.

His mouth caresses yours open, your body melting against his. You let out little, breathy moans, and when he sloppily licked into your mouth, you caught his tongue and sucked— pulling the raunchiest, cunt-clenching sound you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing. You let go of his tongue with a pop.

He moves his hands off the wall to dig into your arse and walks to your couch, putting your back to the cushions as he pulls off your pants. With a firm grip on your hips, he pulls you towards him, making you straddle his muscular thigh while his hands wrap around your waist, reaching for your bound wrists.

“I’ma take this off. I wouldn’t try hittin’ me again.” You feel a snap, the tingle of your blood rushing through the mark left by the zip tie, and shrug— in an attempt to ease some of the aches in your shoulders from being forcefully positioned for so long.

You side-eye the military pocket knife he used to cut the ties, wondering when he took it out— where he even hid it. Ghost leans forward to shrug off his leather jacket, pulls off his shirt while keeping his mask over his mouth, and tosses them to the other side of the sofa. You knew he was fit but seeing just how much made you a tad insecure. The separation of the muscle from the round of his shoulders to the bulge of his bicep, with the vein running along the bicep was mouthwatering. Strong vascular forearms, only one of them with a half sleeve. You can see the muscle striation of his full-looking pecs, his abs clear cut, obliques you could count with your fingers. Ridiculously fit, unlike yourself. Soft tummy, thick meaty thighs, and fleshy hips. He brings you out of your musing with a hard slap to your arse.

“Out of your head and back here w’me, eh?” he says while soothing the sting with his calloused hand. “I can feel how warm your cunt is through my jeans. Go on,” and lifts his hand to rub a thumb over your mound, “ride my thigh.”

The feel of your clit against the rough fabric of his jeans and his thumb rubbing firm circles on it has your pussy growing wet, leaving a damp spot behind on him. One hand grips you to push you through the motions, and you continue to roll your hips— chasing the friction you need.

The circles he’s drawing turn slippery as the tension of your impending orgasm intensifies. Your legs start to shake as you stroke yourself on the length of his thigh and the steady roll of your clit under his thumb is about to make you break, your walls fluttering when Ghost pulls away— abruptly leaving you at the ledge, and it stings.

“Y’didn’t think I was gonna just let you come with how bratty you’ve been?” and you let out an angry whine. “Open your mouth,” he orders.

Your tongue unsticks from the roof of your mouth as you do, and he shoves two of his long fingers into it, and curls them over your tongue— and you close your throat to prevent your gag reflex.

“Atta girl, love,” the smirk he gives is so irrationally smug, that you want to bite him. He puts both of his thighs in between your legs to spread you, letting him get a good look at your swollen, dripping cunt.

He pulls his fingers out glossy with your spit to rub them through your folds, then presses one, and then the other. He pushes to half the length of his fingers and curls, pushing directly on the sensitive patch of nerves. Ghost repeatedly presses against it, and the noises you and your cunt start to make are lewd, sloppy.

Your pleasure starts to rise again, back to where he left you off with every precise drag of his fingers over your patch of nerves, your body feels like it’s radiating heat, your vision starting to go white when again, he leaves you hanging. Right at the fucking edge and you dry sob from how pleasurably painful it is.

Ghost grabs your neck with a firm, wet grip and pulls your face to his, lips hovering over yours, breath mingling.

“With me in you or none at all, pet,” and slaps your cheek, leaving behind a sticky residue.

Quickly divesting himself of his jeans, he picks you up and takes you to the bedroom, where he watches you bounce on your mattress. He’s about to crawl over to you when you put your foot flat against his chest.

“I’m not fucking you without a condom when you still have the evidence of your promiscuity on you.”

He grabs that ankle and wraps it around him, lifting its twin to do the same, then places himself between your thighs— resting some of his body weight on you.

“I never sleep with anyone without protection. You’d be the first in many years,” and you scoff at him. He grabs your jaw, cheeks squishing under his fingers, demanding eye contact.

“I’m many things but a liar isn’t one of ‘em. You’ve done so well f’me, been so obedient. You’re the only one I want to feel without any barriers. ”

This reminds you of how much of a bastard he is. Taking wheat and spinning it into gold, just to get what he wants.

“And how many times has that line worked for you?” whimpering at the feel of his heavy cock rubbing against your wet cunt.

“You’re the only one I wanna see my cum drip out of, pet. I swear it,” and he starts to push into you. Even being as drenched as you are, your cunt still struggles to take him. He gives one thrust and it reaches halfway before it stops— almost like it’s stuck. Ghost pulls out, cock slippery and creamy with your juices then pushes in again. It’s like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water— he sinks to the hilt.

It burns. It’s an ache and his length feels too large, too much, but hearing this typically silent behemoth of a man mumbling into your ear has you groaning at his depth.

“Fuck, baby, fuckin’ hell sweetheart—”, the salacious groan in your ear makes you clench your gummy walls around his invasion. He moves slowly, giving a series of unhurried, languid thrusts.

“I’m gonna make sure this tight cunt fits me and no one else,” and that has you thinking if he said that because of your upcoming date, but then with a soft slap to your cheek, he shifts— bringing himself to his knees. Ghost grabs the back of yours and pushes them to your ears. You’re bent in half, can barely breathe, and then he gives you a knowing smirk— with just one corner of his mouth lifted as the only warning before he pounds into you.

Viciously.

Unsparingly.

Every thrust of his has the tip of his head firmly pressing into your cervix with an obscene squelch. The deep pinch you feel against your womb brings tears to your eyes.

He’s merciless with how hard he fucks you, and you can’t do anything other than take it, thoroughly pinned under his body weight. Ghost then lets go of one leg to cover your mouth with his hand before angling his hips upwards— just a tad and the angle is so sharp he has you screaming. He must’ve known exactly what was gonna happen because he’s completely unfazed by how loud you’re being, just presses down on your mouth even harder.

“Keep taking it, pet, I know you can,” he growls out, but it feels like he’s actually rearranging your guts, so deep inside you can feel him in your throat. His rhythm is unrelenting, and the coil that Ghost has kept tightly wound all this time threatens to snap, and you’re sure it’s going to break you.

He hisses as he feels your cunt quivering around his cock, and he definitely knows what’s about to happen because he then slows his hips and cuts through your pleasure with his selfish demand.

“You tell Gaz that this weekend is cancelled and I’ll fuck you against that wall and let you come,” and you’re babbling out your surrender, jerky nods of your head. You’re okay with losing this battle because you’re winning this war unequivocally.

Ghost pulls out aggressively, pulls you to the edge of the bed to position your ankles at his shoulder, and lifts— walking to the wall, pinning you. He slaps your arse before sliding back in again.

“M’good girl has earned her reward, hasn’t she?” and with that, he lets spit dribble from his mouth to land on your clit.

“Lemme see you touch yourself,” and resumes his thrusts, this time pushing directly into your sweet spot, again and again. You rub circles in rhythm with his thrusting, your body starting to seize.

“Fuck, tha’s it, love, fuck me,” and he moans when the nails of your unoccupied hand dig into his shoulder. “Jesus, yeah, scratch me. Leave a mark— I wanna see you on me tomorrow,” and he starts to piston into you at a punishing pace, and he in combination with your fingers has you careening into one of the most, if not the most, overwhelming orgasm of your life.

You tense, and with no control, actually scream out your peak. Wave after wave of blindingly brutal pleasure, nothing but a ringing in your ears and your limbs that violently tremble— relieving the ache that has been in between your thighs for weeks, from Ghost’s ruthless edging.

The choking vice your cunt has on his cock sends him over, groaning out his climax. He’s grinding so deep in you that it just hurts, then thrusts himself into oversensitivity.

He backpedals, taking you with him in his arms, and falls back onto your bed with a grunt. You’re rubbing the marks your nails left on his shoulders— just an imprint. Good. Then, you shift yourself upwards, straddling his ribcage to touch the lovebites.

“You didn’t really think I’d leave a trophy for you to take home, did you?” and his dark eyes unblinkingly stare at you. Gazing right back, you say, “I won’t be a part of your collection.” But you’re not sure if you aren’t already, seeing as how it’s his cum dripping out of you and landing on his stomach.

“But an agreement is an agreement,” and get up to grab your phone. Sending Gaz a quick text, you then turn the screen towards Ghost.

Can’t see you this weekend, Gaz. Sorry:(

Oh, the belly laugh Ghost lets out at the response Gaz sent makes your face flush.

We talked about this, doll. Our date is next weekend.

“Now I,” you get up, leaving Ghost lying on your bed with his spend drying on his belly, “am gonna go shower, and you can let yourself out. I asked for a fuck, not a boyfriend.”

As you saunter to your bathroom, you turn your head to end it with, “Seeing as how I won’t be needing you anymore, delete my number.”

—

By the time you step out of your bathroom squeaky clean, your apartment is as if you didn’t get fucked within an inch of your life. Everything looked in order, bed comforter tucked with hospital corners— empty. Except your phone wasn’t where you left it. You walk over to pick it up and on the screen is a text from Ghost’s number. He unblocked himself and changed the name of his contact to Simon.

If you wanted exclusivity, all you had to do was ask, love. Tell Gaz to fuck off for good, I’ll see you soon.

You quickly run to your bathroom and slam the door closed. Squealing, you dial Gaz’s number.

“Hello, doll,” his voice is low, as if he was asleep.

“It worked! We did it! We—” and you cut yourself off, “Wait, did I wake you?”

He chuckles and you can hear another deep male voice in the background.

“OH! Oh. You weren’t sleeping! OK! Sorry! So sorry! I’m hanging up!” and press the end call button.

To beat the player, you must first learn how to play the game.

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irisintheafterglow · 10 months

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You Are In Love (Gojo Satoru x You)

summary: you can't stop dreaming about him, and your friends start to notice a change in your behavior. (2.4k words)

cw/tags: mild angst to comfort, friends to lovers, pining, idiots in love, profanity, elder sorcerers being assholes, pet names (doll, gorgeous, etc), uhh gojo loses his cool and blows up a building lol, kissing, one instance of foreshadowing manga spoilers but only if you squint

note: HELLOO GOJO NATION. ok so i'll be so honest with you, this stupid man was my #1 for so long and i think those feelings resurfaced so i got a little carried away with writing this (it's my longest fic so far, my bad). but yk something about gojo, hawks, and kuroo all being played by the voice actor just gets me. the prompt for this is from the AMAZING @creativepromptsforwriting and was supposed to be a drabble but turned into a full fic. anyways, hope you enjoy it!!

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated!

“It’s too quiet. Can I tell you guys a joke I heard on TV?”

“Mmm, please don’t.”

“But it’s funny!”

“Satoru.”

“Ooh, using my first name. Something’s up with you.”

“Something is not up with me, weirdo.”

“No, something is definitely off with you today.” You thought Suguru and Shoko had stopped listening, but they chimed in with evidence of your odd behavior.

“You said good morning differently,” Shoko added, casually taking a sip of her soda and peering at you over the rim. Her hair sways gently in the breeze outside of the convenience store you four had stopped at before heading back to Jujutsu Tech. You glare at her and open your mouth to defend yourself when Suguru adds his two cents.

“You tripped up during that last mission that should have been a cakewalk,” which was true, but you thought your mistake had gone unnoticed. The truth was, the spirit had caught you off guard with a simple teleport trick. It warped behind you and unlatched its grotesque jaws to end your life faster than you could blink. You should have been able to predict the movement with your eyes closed, but you’d been too focused on making sure a certain white-haired sorcerer was alive after your group had been ambushed several hundred feet underground. Suguru had given you a curious look after one of his demons saved your ass, and you’d flipped him off hoping that would be the end of it. “And you also flipped me the bird instead of saying thank you,” he shrugged.

“You also finish your food the fastest out of all of us, and today you haven’t even taken three bites,” Shoko says, finishing her drink and standing to toss it in the trash bin. “Something’s going on with you, and I, for one, am incredibly curious as to why.” Satoru watches you with a smug glint in his eye, and it takes all your willpower not to strangle him.

“As glad as I am to know that you all pay such great attention to my habits, I promise there’s nothing wrong.” The three of them stare at you skeptically but thankfully decided to drop the subject, instead pivoting to who’s most likely to go to jail first (it’s Gojo).

After the late lunch, you begin the walk back to Jujutsu Tech as the sky transforms into faded shades of orange and pink. The vanishing sun casts shining reflections on the surrounding skyscrapers, bouncing off the windows of speeding cars and zooming trains. Satoru and Suguru walk ahead, playfully shoving each other and almost falling over doing so.

“Alright, are you gonna tell me what’s going on now that Dumb and Dumber aren’t here?” Shoko asks as she falls into step with you. The sides of your mouth turn down, realizing that she didn’t forget about your conversation at lunch. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell your closest friends what was going on; you just didn’t know how to explain what you had dreamed about the previous night and the night before that, and all the nights the past two weeks.

It began with a look he had given you after a meeting with some higher-ups in the sorcerer world. They had visited Jujutsu Tech unexpectedly, stating that they would be evaluating the skill levels of random students. Out of your group of friends, only you and Satoru had been pulled to be tested. Principal Yaga had instructed both of you before entering the room to give the evaluation your best effort and to not become indignant if they judged you poorly.

The brass declared your evaluation to be first, and you poured all of your energy into showcasing the power of your Cursed Technique. You even managed to pull off a few strikes of extension techniques that you’d been perfecting for months. Though the entire performance lasted less than ten minutes, you were breathless and light-headed when the panel told you to stop. After bowing deeply, you moved to exit the room, desperate for fresh air, but they stopped you and began listing every single reason why your demonstration was unsatisfactory. Besides “inefficient technique, predictable attacks, weak offense, insufficient defense,” and a general lack of power compared to that of other sorcerers at your level, they informed you that your Cursed Technique was obsolete and would eventually render you useless as more innately talented sorcerers take your place. You were speechless at their blunt criticism of your effort, on the verge of breaking down, but you managed to nod in acknowledgment as you stepped out of the room.

But then you saw him sitting there, waiting on his phone and looking up at you with a bright smile as he stood to greet you. A confusing blend of disappointment, anger, sadness, and loneliness panged in your heart and spread to the rest of your body, and you rapidly tried to blink away the moisture welling up in your eyes while Satoru approached. He was halfway through a snarky remark about you blowing away their expectations when his smile dropped and his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Shit, he’d noticed you crying.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me. What the fuck did they do to you?” Dashing blue eyes found yours through the clouds in your vision, and his thumbs gently brushed away stray tears that escaped down your cheeks.

“Do you think I’m weak, Satoru?” Your voice cracks when the words finally spill out, swallowing hard to push down the sobs threatening to break loose from your constricted lungs. Satoru freezes, eyes searching yours. He doesn’t answer your question immediately, but instead asks again.

“Doll, what the fuck did they do.” You can’t get a reply out in time before his focus snaps up to behind you, and a second later you hear the door roll open, one of the officials commanding Satoru to enter for his evaluation. His large hands hold your face and turn you to look up at him, and you move unconsciously to cover his hands with yours. “Stay here for me, okay?” He glanced at the official waiting in the doorway, blue eyes dark with suppressed rage. “This won’t take long.”

His evaluation lasts two minutes and four seconds. At first, the room was silent and you couldn’t hear any demonstration of Satoru’s technique, almost as if the panel was having a conversation with him before they began. Then, at two minutes on the dot, the room was blown to splinters. The door, the ceiling, the porch, and all of the furniture inside were violently thrown outward in an explosion that made the ground beneath your feet tremble. Curiously, none of the debris had hit you, but you coughed through the dust and saw that the panel hadn’t been so lucky, all of them buried under shredded beams of wood and canvas. And, standing at the center of the room’s remains with a satisfied grin plastered on his beautiful face, was Satoru. He found his way over to where you stood in disbelief and took your hand in his, interweaving your fingers and guiding you away from the ruined building.

You two walked hand-in-hand in silence back to your dorm, where he seemed reluctant to let go of your hand. Before he walked away, he finally answered your question from earlier.

“I tell you this not just as your friend, but as another sorcerer. You are not weak. Your technique is special and something that those shithead elders haven’t seen in decades, and they don’t like what they don’t understand. I know the thought of leaving Jujutsu Tech crossed your pretty little mind, but you shouldn’t. People need you here, Shoko, Suguru, Mei Mei...” He hesitated, taking a shallow breath and reaching back for your hand.

“Me,” he said, his voice low, and his voice got even softer until it was almost a breath. “I need you here.” As quickly as the fondness in his voice appeared, it disappeared. “And, plus, you definitely can’t leave us here with ol’ Yaga. What the hell am I gonna do if I can’t hide in your room while he’s trying to beat my ass?”

You laugh, and the feeling makes you feel better. He makes you feel better. You smile back at him and finally bid him farewell, and he raises your hand to his lips as he says goodbye.

After that, he’d appeared in your dreams for two weeks straight. The dreams started as a continuation of what would have happened if you didn’t just say goodbye to him, if you’d invited him into your dorm, or if you’d let him pull you into his. They transformed after the fourth day into what it would be like to love him and receive his love in return: stolen kisses, flirty whispers, and movie dates to name a few. All these dreams added up to the previous night’s nightmare, where a mission had gone bad and he’d been imprisoned with no hope of breaking him free. You’d startled awake covered in sweat, and barely fell back asleep before your alarm forced you to start the day.

“It’s… hard to explain,” you reply apologetically, and Shoko looks at you with so much skepticism written on her face that you have to turn away and look in the other direction.

“So something is bothering you.”

“Yeah, there is. I’m sorry; it’s just really, really hard to verbalize.”

“Can I take a stab at what’s bothering you?”

“If you could actually stab it that’d be great, but sure. Knock yourself out.”

“It’s Satoru, isn’t it?” You stop mid-stride and her face lights up with amusement. “Holy shit, it’s Satoru. You like Gojo Satoru.”

“Jeez, Shoko, go ahead and say his name four hundred million times, why don’t you? But really, what tipped you off?”

“Ten seconds ago when you asked me to stab your problem, I figured it out,” she chuckles, bumping her shoulder against yours playfully. “If it’s any consolation, I’m 99% sure he’s felt that way about you for a while.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“How do you know?”

“Would you let me off the hook if I said it was hard to explain?”

“Har, har, very funny. Could you at least try?”

“Mmm, I think it’s better if he explains it himself.”

“You’re no help, Shoko.”

“Yes, and you love me anyway. But not as much as you love Sa–” You groan, covering your burning face in both hands and increasing the speed of your steps to escape your friend’s teasing chuckles.

When you finally arrive at school, the stars have started rising and the moon hangs in the sky. You walk in the direction of the dorms when Shoko suddenly unlinks her elbow from yours, winking at you over your shoulder.

“Suguru, can you help me move something from the gym real quick? I forgot a few things over there.”

“Sure, but why do you need my help?” Shoko gives him a pointed look and realization quickly washes over his features. “Oh, OH. Okay, of course, sure.” Suguru turns on his heel awkwardly, briskly walking in the direction of the gym.

“Satoru, walk them back to their dorm. Don’t want anything happening to them after their little slip today,” she adds before heading in the other direction with Suguru, who tries and fails to communicate something to Satoru with a nod of his head.

“Alright, pretty girl, you heard Shoko. C’mere and let me walk you home before she beats my ass.”

“I think you have too many people on this planet that want to beat your ass. And, for the record, I’m one of them.”

“It’s the price of being this gorgeous, gorgeous.” A soft laugh escapes your mouth, and you swear Satoru’s smile gets a little wider. The rest of the short walk to your dorm is just as easy and comfortable, Satoru making stupid comments and you replying with a quick remark over and over until you’re back in the same situation you’d been in two weeks ago. But, this time, you realized that Satoru was a lot closer to you, leaning back against your door with your hand touching the handle but not opening it. You both spend a few moments there, just looking at each other, and his mesmerizing eyes flicker to your mouth when you unconsciously lick your lips. He opens his mouth to say something smart, but you beat him to it.

“If you’re gonna look down at my lips and say something stupid about it, you might as well do what I’ve been wanting you to do for ages.”

“Oh? And what’s that, pretty girl?”

You sigh in mock disappointment and look up at him through your eyelashes. “If you don’t know what it is by now, then I guess… you don’t deserve to do it.” His pupils are blown wide with desire, and you resist the impulse to laugh.

“God, you’re intoxicating,” he says, before pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut and you melt into him, arms snaking around his neck while his hands find your waist and hold you up from your knees that have turned to jelly. The first kiss is gentle and experimental, but having the flirtiest asshole in the country chasing your lips as you briefly pull away gives you a newfound wave of confidence, pulling him closer and closer until his body is flush against yours. When you finally pull away from each other and catch your breath, he doesn’t go very far, resting his forehead against yours.

“You know, I wanted to kill them. Those wrinkly assholes two weeks ago that had the gall to call you weak. And I would have, you know I would have, but you were outside… and you were crying… I just didn’t know what to do. I saw red, and, uh, then the building exploded.” You chuckle at his confession and he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, rubbing his nose against yours.

“I had a dream about you. Well, a lot of dreams.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Got a little nervous today when I heard you talk with Shoko about liking a boy, but it helps knowing now that the boy is me. And, hopefully, it will only ever be me.”

“You pretentious asshole.”

“You know it.”

“You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork.”

“I know you are.”

“And I’m never going anywhere.” He kisses your forehead sweetly, and it’s just like the dreams that had plagued you for weeks before. “Ever.”

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#gojo x you #gojo fanfic #gojou satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk shoko #jjk suguru

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deliciousbasementtrash · 7 months

Text

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

From Batman: Wayne Family Adventures #67-69 on Webtoon; Artist Inker Starbite

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are meeting the whole family for the first time. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, knife injury

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Part Four: Dinner and a Show

Anxiously, I took the napkin from the table and began twisting it vigorously. I felt Alfred leave his seat as he rose to meet his family. I swallowed hard, not wanting to look at all of the people that were entering the room. They just seemed to keep coming. How many people were in Bruce’s family?

Before I had time to register it a hand was outstretched near me. It nearly made me jump. The stranger cleared his throat and smiled, “Hello, I am Dick Grayson. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

In an ungraceful motion, I put the napkin on the table and stood up to greet him properly. I took his hand in mine and firmly shook it. His hands were large, calloused, and a little clammy. It was almost like he was a little nervous to meet me. But that couldn’t be right.

“Nice to meet you, Dick Grayson. I am y/f/n y/l/n,” I said, trying to make eye contact with him. Dick was an extremely handsome man. He was almost achingly pretty. With his soft blue eyes, dimples, and dark curly hair, he could definitely charm the pants off anyone if he really wanted to.

His smile grew when our hands met. He just stood there for a moment looking at me, and then he pivoted to the side. He introduced Tim Drake and Duke Thomas. Tim was cordial and did the customary new person greeting, Duke was somewhat rambling.

“Your powers are truly something to be admired, thank you so much for everything you have done,” Duke said as he excitedly shook my hand.

I smiled at him and rubbed the back of my neck, “It’s really not that big of a deal but thank you, Duke. You guys are the ones that make the real change.”

Duke opened his mouth as if he were going to disagree, but a red-headed woman with glasses wheeled up to us and joined the conversation.

“You boys are hogging her. Hello, I am Barbara Gordon. This is Cass, she doesn’t say much, and this is Stephanie, she says too much.”

I greeted them both, slightly overwhelmed by the amount of new people. I was trying my best to act ‘normal’ and be as social and charming as I could be. A younger boy who strongly resembled Bruce stood far away from me. He surveyed the room, taking in the reactions. He seemed so serious for his age. I wasn’t sure if I should make the introduction or not.

“Where is Jason?” Bruce asked the room.

“He is running late,” Dick said, “he said he had some ‘other shit that needed to get done first.’”

Faintly, I saw Bruce tense, but just as quickly as it came, it went. “Alright, everyone leave y/n alone and go sit down.”

On my right, there was Alfred, who felt my anchor to the world. On my left, there was Dick Grayson, who felt like he was trying to get me to smile and laugh every chance he got.

The table soon became loud with conversations that finally were not about me. However, I felt eyes on me the whole night. Damian Wayne was across from me, staring at me the whole time like I was an intruder.

“So, you are a healer,” Damian said, skeptically.

I swallowed a bite of food and nodded, “I am.”

“What can you heal?” Damian asked, twirling his dinner knife in the air.

“Flesh wounds, broken bones, blood loss, head injury, organ injury,” I trailed off not knowing what else to say.

“How does it work?” His eyes narrowed at me.

“I’m not really sure. It’s as natural for me as breathing or blinking.”

“What are your–” Damien asked but then Bruce interrupted.

“Son, you do not need to vet our guest. Let her enjoy herself.”

Damien was suspicious of me and curious I wanted the boy to feel comfortable, “It’s okay, Bruce. It’s natural to be curious about it. What other questions do you have for me, Damien?’

“What are your limits?” Damien asked.

I felt the table go quiet. They all were curious and wanted to know my weaknesses. I instinctually did not want to answer, but I knew that if I wanted to be accepted I would need to be vulnerable and honest.

“I cannot heal a majority of terminal illnesses. Spinal injuries can go one way or the other it depends on the severity. I cannot heal tumors. And…. and healing is draining. If I am not smart about it, I can make myself sick.”

“Sick how?” Dick asked, leaning in.

“Well, it’s hard to explain. When I healed Bruce, it was after my shift at the hospital, I barely ate that day or slept the night before. So, when I put all that energy into healing him, it was exhausting. I nearly passed out on the ground next to him. When I got home, I slept for 16 hours straight. That is a more mild case though, it can get more… severe.”

“I wasn’t aware of that,” Bruce mumbled.

The boyish charm on Dick’s face vanished, “How severe can it get?”

“Oh, you know tremors, fever, bloody noses, vomiting, seizures. It can get bad. I’ve learned my limits the hard way, but I’ve learned them. Growing up my limits were more extreme. I couldn’t heal a paper cut without getting a headache. Small stuff like cuts and bruises doesn’t bother me at all now though. It barely scratches the surface of my limits.”

“Prove it,” Damien said.

“Excuse me?” I asked, annoyance filling my tone. I can handle his constant questions, but being told to prove it vexed me.

“You say you can heal cuts and bruises without it ‘scratching the surface.’ Prove it. Prove you’re not a charlatan witch.” It was a movement for a boy too quick for his age he took his dinner knife and sliced along his own arm.

“Damien!” Barbara yelled. Dick leaped across the table but it was too late, blood was already pooling. Bruce and Alfred cursed.

“Why did we allow Damien to have a knife at dinner?” Tim asked over the yelling.

“Tim, do you really think we gave him that knife?” Bruce asked, incredulously.

Anger surged as I slowly made my way around the table full of people yelling until I was in front of Damien. I glared at him as I rested my hands just above his cut. The room became silent as I healed him. The cut closed, and I replenished the blood that he lost.

Damien looked at me, dumbfounded. The whole room did expect for Bruce and Alfred.

“It’s one thing to hear about it, but to see it… you really are a miracle.” Duke said the words and I flinched from them.

I looked at Damien and let my anger show through. “I will not heal you if you pull something like this again. I don’t care how much your father pays me. I am not a monkey that will dance for you on a whim. Do not harm yourself to make a point or prove something again.” Damien angrily ripped his arm away from me. I didn’t care. It was unacceptable. He should never hurt himself intentionally like that just because he knows I can heal him. I turned and faced the room, “It was lovely meeting all of you. I hope you all have a nice evening, good night.”

And with that, I turned around and left for the night. Maybe I shouldn’t be as mad as I am right now, but I know I need a moment to myself. I heard light footsteps beside me as someone lightly jogged to catch up.

“I’m sorry about Damien we are still house-training him,” Dick said, trying his best to lighten the mood.

I didn’t crack a smile, “It’s okay, Dick, really.”

“He can be intense sometimes, well we all can,” ever so lightly he reached up and grabbed my elbow, turning me so I faced him. “We are a lot. We are loud. We are sarcastic. We all think we are right all the time. We fight. We can be obsessive, protective, and socially inept. You will constantly have to patch us up–”

I shook my head, my eyebrows pinched in confusion, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“You need to know exactly what you are getting into. It won’t be fair to you if you don’t know,” he said, absent-mindedly his thumb stroking the inner part of my elbow. He probably didn’t even know he was doing it, but I was acutely aware of it.

I just nodded, “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate the honesty. Besides, if I can handle my family, I can handle yours. Good night, Dick.”

“Of course, good night, y/n.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but I didn’t have the energy for it.

I walked toward my room, suddenly so exhausted. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, and accidentally ran into a wall.

“Um excuse you,” a deep voice said.

Taglist: I am just starting a taglist; if you would like to be included please comment :)

@soundsfunbutno

Also please vote below for what you would prefer

Thank you guys

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gojo-mochi · 10 months

Note

Hi!! I love your writing so much, I'm so excited to have found your blog! :3 If you'd like, may I please request drabbles (or HCs if you prefer!) for Mihawk and Crocodile with a gn!reader, and like a really soft tender moment where they just get a break from everything and get to cuddle or just enjoy each other's company peacefully? Thank you so much!!

Soft Moments w/ Crocodile and Mihawk

A/N: EEEEEEeee thank you for being my very first request!!, I’m not that good at writing gn!reader I think but I’ll try my best! ૮₍っ ̫ •̥⸝⸝ ₎ა

Content Warning: Fluff. NonProof-read.

Crocodile:

It was meetings after meetings, Crocodile was gone or busy for most of the week, dealing with different types of idiots.

It's like the Grand Line keeps spawning a new type of stupid every day, I swear." Crocodile growled, plopping down on the couch. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to alleviate the headache he is having. You sat down next to him, placing a glass of water on the table in front of you. Patting his knee in solace. "It’s alright now, dear; let’s just forget about them, hmm?" You cooed, motioning for him to drink some water as well.

He sighs, grabbing the glass and chugging all its contents in one swig. Placing it back on the table, he turns to look at you with a softened expression, arms curling around your back and under your knee. Crocodiles picks you up and gently places you on his lap. Your own arms go to loop around his neck, cuddling in closer. Crocodile leans back on the couch with you in his arms, rubbing small circles on your back and planting light kisses on your forehead.

"Am glad you’re here…" He said, voice muffled by your hair. You giggled at that, turning your head slightly to give a kiss back. "I’ll always be here for you, you know that."

He gave a small squeeze in response, and the both of you just stayed there for a while, in each other’s arms. You soon heard a light snoring coming from above you. Crocodile was slumped over, cheek pressed against your hair, mouth open to produce the light snoring you heard before. You smiled at the sight, letting out a small laugh, ‘I wonder what those idiots would think if they saw you like this.’ You thought in your head.

You pivoted around slowly, putting your hand on Crocodile’s shoulder, trying to guide him down to lay fully on the couch. He mumbled something as he sank down onto the couch, making sure to pull you along with him. You shifted around some more until you were more comfortable. Now laying on top of Crocodile, his arms snaked tightly around you, you sigh contently, drifting off into your slumber.

Mihawk:

You were both in the library, reading your own choice of literature. Your legs sat upon Mihawk’s lap; you were reading a mystery novel full of twists and turns that made you "Ooh" and "Ahh" out loud at certain passages. You gasped particularly loudly at a scene where the true killer was revealed. Mihawk smiled at your antics, watching you with piercing golden eyes. "Oh my! I knew it was the maid all along!" You snapped your fingers at the book, almost vibrating with excitement.

Mihawk raised an eyebrow at you. "If I recall correctly, earlier you said the killer ‘Had to be the gardener’ no?" He asked with a small smirk tugging on the side of his lips. You blushed a bit and huffed out, "I was just kidding… I always knew it was the maid, just keeping you on your toes, alright?".

Mihawk sends you a look, which you return by sticking out your tongue at him. He doesn’t try to hide his laugh now, openly chuckling at your cuteness.

"If you are done with your reading, come closer; I wish to embrace you."

The way he said it so casually made your heart skip a couple beats. You scoot closer to him, fully nestling down on his lap, head tucked beneath his chin. He rested a hand on your waist, softly rubbing circles on your hip, while the other carried the current book he was still reading. You peer over to take a look at the book’s content. "So, what’cha reading there?" You asked, trying to skim the page he was on.

He hummed, angling the book so you could get a better view, "A romance novel, quite intriguing so far." He answered, "Would you like to read it together?".

"Only if I could do voices for the characters." You jested. Mihawk let out a snort at that but nodded nonetheless. Shifting you closer to his chest, Mihawk began to read the first line of the page. You follow in kind, making sure to do perfect voices for each character you come across. Mihawk tried to do a voice for a drunkard that appeared, by mimicking a certain red haired emperor. It almost made you fall off the couch if his arm wasn’t secured around your waist.

You spent the rest of the day in each other's arms, just like this, in your own little romance world.

#hope you like it !!!!#₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ softy writes #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #sir crocodile x reader #mihawk x reader #one piece #fluff #one piece fluff

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f1daydreamers · 11 months

Text

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you’ve had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of exes and annoying ones ugh, slight angst??, alcohol but it isn't heavy on the topic, let me know if I'm missing any!

Word Count: 2.3k (8 mins reading time avg)

…

You push the inner corners of your false lashes, whispering a curse word when the left one sprung back up again though you'd spent over a minute holding it down.

"Come on, play nice." You murmur, repeating the movement.

You slowly removed your finger, as if any mere force of air would make it lift again.

You really didn't have the time to mess with it, already keeping one eye on the clock.

"Hey, you nearly done in here?" Lance entered, giving you a single glance as you leaned in closer to the vanity mirror.

You eyed your appearance one final time to make sure your makeup was blended, even and smooth.

"Yep, just finishing up. You gonna get changed?" You fanned your face after spritzing your face with setting spray, then stood up from the stool and pushed it in.

With a nod, he sifted through his suitcase, the crease between his furrowed eyebrows distinctly visible despite his downward gaze.

"Are you okay?" You asked, taking a step closer.

You watched Lance effortlessly pick up his open suitcase and place it on the bed.

"Yeah, I just can't.. seem to find.. my watch." He said between pauses, and your eyes fell to the bedside table where his watch was clearly staring right back at you.

Without a hint of laughter, you brushed past him, capturing the timepiece between your fingers.

As he frantically searched for it, oblivious to what you were doing, you turned towards him.

"This watch?" You asked, innocently enough, a slight smile adorning your lips.

His eyes shifted to your hand where you extended his personal belonging to him, and he shook his head.

"Why is it that girls always know where everything is?" He rhetorically asked, and you shrugged as the corner of his mouth curved upwards into a grateful grin.

"Just one of our many talents." You responded.

"And the lack of ours," you chuckled as his fingers brushed yours to take the watch.

Lance's eyes fixate intently on your face and you wonder if you'd overlooked something, unblended contour or way overlined lips but he didn't look like he wanted to point something out, rather seemed.. taken aback?

His lips part slightly and you smile, blushing under his unwavering focus.

"Earth to Lance?" He stumbles in his speech, abruptly swallowing his words before tearing his eyes away from you.

"Sorry 'bout that." You ignore the wave of disappointment that washes over you and tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, before sliding past him again.

"I'll leave you to get changed," you said, pivoting to offer him a brief nod and smile before making your way out of the room. Once the door was shut behind you, you let out a sigh.

"Y/N, I've ironed it." You smile at your mum who appeared out of the empty room, which once belonged to your brother.

You thank her as she headed downstairs, and you lock the door behind you as you get changed into the outfit you'd packed. Carefully pushing your head through the hole of your top as to not ruin your makeup went fairly successfully.

Maybe it was a touch extravagant for an early evening outing, but you hadn't packed much since you also hadn't anticipated your brother's fiancé's insistence on getting everyone together before the weekend's chaos ensued.

You eventually went downstairs to gather with everyone else, encountering a mix of readiness. You found one who was eager to leave, one who still needed to pee, and one who couldn't find her other heel.

Lance idly fiddled with the sleeves of his sweater, tugging them up a bit. He had always been particular about the unpleasantness caused by the cuffs rubbing against his wrists.

As he entered the lounge, he stumbled slightly when your sister swiftly pushed past him in a fleeting attempt to run upstairs.

In the midst of her hurried movements, she shouted a few incoherent words of instruction to a hapless relative who happened to be occupying the bathroom at a time that was inconvenient for her.

Instead of blending into a group of unfamiliar relatives he had yet to be formally introduced to, Lance leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

His eyes roamed across the room, wondering what these people’s names could be, their background, their profession. He was merely amusing himself with a fictional concoction of reality.

You emerged from the midst of the group, your attention fixed on a cousin whom he had met previously. A bright smile on your lips, anticipation evident as you awaited their response.

In that moment, it felt as if time had slowed down.

Lance's face lit up with a smile as he observed your eyes growing wider in disbelief at something you were told but didn’t quite believe.

The smile lines from your lips to your nose became more pronounced as your grin stretched across your face.

Playfully, you leaned over and gave your cousin's arm a slap, causing your hair to cascade and partially obscure your laughing face, which was tilted downwards.

His gaze fell from your side profile to your body, fixating on the way your bodysuit, tucked into your leather pants, clung to your figure ever so snugly.

He knew if he were to touch you even once tonight, it would feel as though his hand was grazing your bare skin.

A thought that spurred on an erratic beat in his chest, a flutter in his fingers as he could only imagine it, but never truly feel it.

He brought the tip of his thumb up to his lips, perhaps to conceal the subtle upward twitch of his mouth's corners, deeply absorbed by.. well, you.

He really believed he was lucky, though this wasn’t real. This was a plan to fool your family and by Monday, it’d all be over.

"Lance right?" His eyes snapped to the approaching individual, meeting the man's hand in the middle, shaking it for a few seconds.

The F1 driver was slightly taller than him but not by much, his linen shirt and the sunglasses perched on his head didn't disguise the fact that they seemed similar in age.

"Yeah," Before he could ask any questions about him, he was quick to turn and point his chin towards you, still standing and conversing with your cousin.

"You're Y/N's boyfriend?" Lance gives a smile, nodding his head.

"That's me. I didn't catch your name?" He added rather quickly, before the opportunity to cut in again arose.

"Name's Thomas, but everyone calls me Tom." There was a hint of scrutiny in his eyes when Tom looked him over, something that was bound to make anyone feel uneasy.

Lance hardly knew the man and already felt like he wanted to conclude the conversation. Not because he was one to back down, but because he wasn't one to waste his breath.

...

You laughed as Daisy pointed accusingly at your brother, berating him for 'throwing her off' just as she was about to hit the winning putt in mini-golf.

He dismissed her rather effortlessly. Growing up, she was the most competitive one out of the three of you.

Lance seemed deep in his train of thought when you glanced at him, you leaned into the booth, the back of your head meeting his outstretched arm.

The contact drew him away from his reverie, and he met your gaze with a gentle expression.

"Hello stranger," You teased quietly.

"Stranger?" He questioned and you smiled, shrugging meekly.

"You haven't spoken much, you doing okay?" As he was about to answer, his eyes instinctively shifted from you to the man that was seated across the large booth, next to your brother.

Tom's eyes were trained on him, he'd been observing both of you since the evening had began.

"That um," He started and you watched him pick up his glass, take a sip from it then place it back down.

"That guy on the other side of the table," Lance's jaw ticked as he redirected his stare towards you again, diligently searching for the slightest hint of a change in your expression.

"White shirt, sunglasses." He sensed the urgency to comment on his appearance so you'd catch on, but he didn't know that you were already aware of who he was talking about.

He eyed you inquisitively, noticing your hand form into a fist on your lap.

"Old friend?" You peeled your gaze away from Lance to your lap, shaking your head.

You were wishing that he wouldn't even be mentioned tonight but since he'd made a reappearance, you realised you couldn't indefinitely confine your past to seclusion.

"Ex." You explained with a single word, practically feeling him tense then ease again besides you.

He retracted his arm from its previous position, no longer outstretched on the back of the booth.

You felt a pang of sadness in your chest; possibly from not letting Lance know, remembering he would be here tonight, or both.

"Small world." He commented, trying to think of what he could say next but really only one question springing to mind.

"Why is he here?" you grimaced, expressing your frustration.

You couldn't recall him ever having a particularly close relationship with any family member, making his presence tonight all the more irritating and confusing.

"I don't know." You breathed out, though being truthful.

"You never told me about him." Lance remarked, obviously referring to the bore speech you'd given him as preparation on most of the people from your hometown that he'd probably get acquainted with.

You'd failed to mention any of your exes, but it didn't cross his mind that you'd even have any exes whom of which were still close, enough to show up on a night out that was rather exclusive.

You gave him a pointed look, defenceless in this conversation. "He wasn't supposed to be here."

“Well, he is.” You rolled your eyes, terribly grateful for his rather obvious input.

He sensed that you'd rather drop the topic than continue talking about it so with a lopsided smile, he picked up his glass.

Lance stood up and glanced at your nearly empty glass, offering, "I'm going to get another drink. Do you want one?"

You respond with a subdued half-shrug, muttering a word of surety under your breath. Although you spoke softly, he managed to hear you.

He collected both glasses, left the booth and went over to the bar. As soon as your 'date' was out of sight, you allowed your gaze to wander around the room.

You can sense Tom's penetrating stare, but choose to ignore it, taking out your phone from your bag and navigating through various apps.

When Lance still hadn't returned after a few minutes of waiting, you decided to let him return and place the drinks down while you went to the bathroom to pee and touch up your makeup, not at the same time obviously.

As you exited the bathroom, hastily returning your pressed powder and lipstick to your purse, you were taken aback when you nearly collided with someone directly in front of you.

Prepared to apologise, you glanced up and locked eyes with the individual in question.

Letting out a sigh, you instinctively took a step back, creating a few feet of distance between yourselves.

"Y/N!" Tom bursted out, as if he was utterly surprised to see you despite being seated across the booth from you for a little over two hours now.

You blink back at him, hoping the ground would swallow you whole so this conversation wouldn't need to happen.

"Tom." You don't match his excitement in the slightest, on purpose.

Your eyes scanned the restaurant, desperately searching for any potential means of escape.

Your ex opens his arms, hoping for an embrace when you take another step back, holding out your hand.

"No. Look, we're not friends. I don't want to see you or even talk to you right now." You shut him down rather bluntly and he scoffs, scrutinising you with every speck of colour in his eyes.

"Oh come on, lighten up. I'm just being friendly." He replies, as if it was a valid excuse for his nonchalant behaviour.

You roll your eyes, ready to shoot back when Lance steps in between you both.

Your shoulders slump, feeling the tension bubbling in your body come to a slow decline.

You reach for his arm and he allows you to snake your wrist around his bicep. Tom smiles, rather forcefully.

"What's going on?" Lance asks.

"Friendly conversation." He states, deeming the F1 driver's presence an unneeded one with his words alone.

"Mm-hmm." You squeeze his arm, a poor attempt to throw a hint that you just wanted to be taken away from this conversation.

Lance nodded his head towards the man opposite you and remarked, "come to think of it, I've heard a lot about you, Tom."

His words caught your attention and you squeezed his arm again, a tad more firmly this time.

“Oh, really?” Tom lifts his eyebrows, shooting you a smirk.

"No," Lance replied in a flat tone, devoid of any enthusiasm.

Tom blinked, clearly a little shocked at his response. Lance pays him no further attention and rests his hand over yours, offering you a smile. "Care for a drink?"

"Please." His smile doesn't falter as he looks away from you and back up at the man who was now carrying a hostile look instead of a confused one.

"I'll see you 'round, Thomas." Lance says, pulling you away and allowing you to follow him back to the booth.

You slid back into your seat and scooted over to make space for the F1 driver. As he settled in, he casually outstretched his arm once again, placing it on the back of the booth and allowing it to drape over your far shoulder.

You leaned into his side, relieved he was playing his part perfectly.

...

Part 4

Masterlist

Comment if you want to be tagged in the next part :)

Taglist: @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @love4lando @chonkybonky @angstyeighteen @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @voidskywxlker @flowerchild-96 @vildetry06 @sharllec @aundercover @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @spicyclover @mloyer @alesainz @e-lisa-bettan @hockey-racing-fubol @cinnamonroll2003 @honeyric3 @mentallyunstablebish @mcmuppet @xscorpioxmoon @ferrariloverr @rivivie @starkeyellow @vanillascreams

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clairenovakz · 5 months

Text

desperation (sam winchester x reader)

pairing: sam x reader, kind of dean x reader warnings: canon-level violence, obsessive behavior, dubcon (maybe? you and dean are under the effect of a curse) summary: after heading to a small town in montana, dean isn’t himself. sam saves you when you need him the most. word count: 4.2k a/n: i have some requests to do but i really wanted to do something like this! i love tropey shit, and evil witches. and maybe after this i’ll write some dean x reader where he isn’t completely insane lol

“Get this,” Sam said, almost slapping the paper on the table of the bunker as you and Dean had walked in. Dean was carrying a pumpkin pie in one hand and a canister of whipped cream in the other, looking cartoonishly idiotic. “The FBI agents sent in to investigate these supposed ‘new age serial killer’ kills in Montana literally murdered each other.”

“Hmm.” You leaned over Sam’s shoulder to peer over the newspaper. Their grisly deaths were painted in an eerie shadow of blood over the page. “That is weird.”

“That’s not the whole story,” Sam raised an eyebrow at you and when you turned you realized you were barely a hair away from him. You stumbled back, muttering a soft apology. “They murdered each other right after they had an impromptu wedding.”

“Wedding…?” Dean had set the pie down and he picked up the paper, squinting at it.

“They married each other.”

You and Dean looked at each other before returning your gazes back to Sam.

“Sounds witchy to me. I’m in.” You said, snagging the whipped cream canister from the table.

Sam broke into a wide grin as you smiled back, before shooting whipped cream in your mouth.

The drive to Montana was uneventful. You’d always let the brothers sit with each other in the front, mostly to save yourself from getting mixed up in some stupid argument. You’d fallen asleep quickly after the first hour, and when Dean stopped for gas, you stepped outside to stretch your legs. Sam followed behind you, affectionately touching your shoulder before going into the gas station store muttering something about getting a drink.

Dean gave you a shit-eating grin and you hit him in the arm. “Hey!” He protested, mockingly rubbing his arm. “What was that for?”

“Nothing, asshole.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I didn’t say anything, kid.” He teased, but then emphatically glanced towards where Sam had gone. “But you gonna bang him or what?”

You hit him again. “Jesus, Dean, shut up!”

Dean burst into a fit of laughter as he pumped gas into the Impala. You tried to hit him again but he held you back easily, neither of you really putting in that much effort to wrestle properly. “I’m just sayin’, I know I’d hit you up if I knew you were into me. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Your whole face turned bright red. “I appreciate the sentiment, dude. Now shut up for real or I’ll kill you.”

“Hey!” Dean laughed again. “I’m just saying, Y/N. You got a bangin’ bod!”

It was at this moment that Sam had decided to return, appearing behind you like some kind of ghost. You nearly screeched when you felt a hand on your shoulder, and your blush intensified.

“What are you two talking about over here?” Sam handed you your favorite soda, and you couldn’t find the words to speak.

“Just about all the hot dudes Y/N’s got lining up to hit her up.” Dean barely reacted as you hit him again.

“Hm.” Sam gave you an amused look, but didn’t seem to want to elaborate.

“Thanks for the soda, Sam. I appreciate it.” You tried to pivot the conversation, opening the car door to get back inside.

“Dude, you didn’t get me one?!” You laughed at Dean’s annoyance, and then shut the car door shut. Through the window, Sam gave you a cheeky grin.

The motels you tended to stay at were somehow always the dingiest. This one smelled distinctly like mildew, and you had a feeling there might be a mold problem somewhere. That, however, was distinctly not your problem.

Dean held out credit cards to you like he was dealing you cards, and you flicked one up that read ‘Polly Pocketson’, which was about the stupidest name you think you’d ever heard. Not like the guy behind the counter cared, anyway, when he rang you up for two rooms. The boys had once insisted you guys all stay together in one room, but you’d always counter-insisted on being on your own. You didn’t need them to coddle you, not when you’d been hunting on your own for a long time before you’d ever even met them.

After you’d dropped your stuff off in the other room, the three of you suited up to do some investigating. As you stepped outside, Dean suddenly appeared next to you. You started, slightly, not expecting him to stand so close. Sam came out a moment after, looking sharp in his suit and you had to pull back a bit of drool.

“Lookin’ spiffy, Y/N.” Dean winked at you. You looked down at your slightly rumpled FBI attire and wondered exactly what had compelled him to compliment you.

“Uh, thanks…?” You smoothed down your shirt and gave him a half smile. “Should we split up? I can hit the morgue to check out the FBI guys if you guys wanna case the town.”

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Dean spoke first. “I think I should go with you, Y/N.”

You gave him a confused look. “Oh, sure, I mean, I don’t mind looking at some dead bodies on my own. You guys are way better at the investigating part, anyway.”

Dean suddenly grabbed your arm. “No. We should stick together. Sam can investigate alone.”

There was suddenly a tense silence as you looked at the way Dean was gripping you. You gently shook him off. He seemed slightly confused at his own behavior as well. You and Sam made eye contact and he shrugged, not understanding either. You just nodded. “Sure, Dean. Let’s get going, then.”

Sam patted your shoulder again, as if reassuring you things would be okay. You felt slightly better after that, heading into the Impala with Dean as Sam disappeared down the sidewalk.

You and Dean had always been close - like family. You and Sam had been even closer, at times, but you’d never wanted to breach the perfect dynamic you had with them. The three of you had been through some truly insane things, and maybe you couldn’t help but daydream about making out with Sam sometimes, but daydreams were only daydreams. You’d never thought you’d ever feel less at home with them.

But as Dean pulled away from the motel, there was a tension hanging over you you’d never felt before. Dean would never do anything to hurt you, you thought to yourself. He was your best friend.

“You okay, Dean?” You asked quietly, looking at the way he was gripping the steering wheel.

“Fine.” He grumbled, casting a strange glance at you. “Headache. I dunno.”

You remained silent as the two of you drove to the morgue.

“Good lord.” You murmured under your breath as you pulled the body out in the morgue.

A pasty, white man - formerly known as Hank Jenkins, FBI agent - laid before you, body torn up and bloodied. His right hand, which still had a very new looking wedding ring on it, was bruised and completely purple. His chest had been ripped open, no heart to be seen. Beside him, you and Dean had pulled out a second body, a woman named Alyssa Hardwick. She was his partner.

“Apparently his heart was ripped out.” Dean said, matter-of-factly as he raised his eyebrows at the scene. He used a pair of silver tongs to pry open the chest cavity a little more, whistling at the damage. “Little more intense than the usual werewolf, though.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” You responded, peering at the bruised hand. You prodded it slightly, and then gently used your fingers to pry at the ring. It wouldn’t budge. In fact, upon closer inspection, it almost seemed welded to the finger. “Christ. How did this even happen?”

Dean leaned down beside you and you brushed shoulders. You stepped back from him slightly, but he followed you, keeping your shoulders touching. You gave him an odd look but he wasn’t looking at you, just intently looking at the ring.

“Nice ring, right?”

You frowned at him. “I guess?”

He hummed to himself as he touched the bruised skin. “It’s almost like the hand was being drained of its blood.” The fingers were weird and wrinkly, almost decomposing, and he squished one slightly. “Or something. Definitely not a natural bruising.”

“The other agent…” You motioned to the other body you had pulled out, this one’s twin killer. “I have a feeling it’ll be the same.”

Dean stood to his full height and gently took your wrist in his. “Yeah, I’d say.”

You stared at the way he was holding you. Were you seriously overthinking this, or did he just need a crutch right now? You decided not to question it. “We should talk to Sam.”

At the mention of his brother’s name, Dean’s grip on you got just a bit harder. He clenched his jaw. “You’re really obsessed with the guy, aren’t you?”

“What?” You couldn’t even comprehend what Dean was saying.

“Nevermind. Let’s go.”

He didn’t let go of you as the two of you put the morgue back together, exiting back to the Impala. You felt unsettled as you sat beside Dean, uncertain of what had changed in your dynamic in the time you had entered Montana. He was gripping the wheel even harder this time, and you swore you could see him twitching. You almost felt like he could’ve been drugged, but the three of you hadn’t really eaten since getting here. Last meal you had was a big breakfast a few miles out of town, before you’d stopped at the motel. You thought briefly about that- maybe Dean just needed a good meal?

You’d dealt with hangry Dean before, though. And it wasn’t like this.

You let the car ride sit in silence before you couldn’t handle it anymore. “Dean, is there something on your mind?”

He suddenly pulled the car over. The two of you sat on a random side street. It was afternoon now, and even though it was bright out, you suddenly felt very cold.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something.” Dean looked at you with cold eyes, although his expression seemed soft. He reached a hand out and placed it on your thigh. You resisted the urge to recoil.

“Um, yeah?”

“I don’t want you to be with Sam.” He nearly growled, coming closer to you. “I want you to be with me.”

You actually leaned back this time, visibly confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You belong with me, Y/N. Don’t you see?” Dean furrowed his brow. “Sam isn’t ever going to see you like that. But I do. And you’re perfect. You’d only be more perfect if you would be with me forever.”

You swallowed thickly. This was unexpected. Dean was, certainly, easy on the eyes. But the way he was leaning towards you, hand gripping your thigh - it was making you sweat. You felt a nervous laugh come from the back of your throat that you tried to hold back. This had to be some kind of sick, cosmic joke.

“Dean…” You started, trying to quickly think about how you were going to phrase this rejection. But before you could say another word, your phone rang.

The two of you stared at each other before Dean leaned back, and you pulled out your cell. It was Sam.

“Hey.” You answered, not looking Dean in the eye. “What’s up?”

“Come back to the motel. I’ve got a lot to show you guys.”

“We’re on our way.” You motioned to Dean, and he started the car. The trip to the motel was set in an uncomfortable mood. But Dean didn’t say anything, so you didn’t either.

You hurried back into the motel room to greet Sam. That scent of mildew hit you again, and it only served to ramp up your unease. Dean seemed to be acting more normal now, or at least, he wasn’t openly coming on to you. There was something unreadable in his expression that you didn’t really want to dissect right now.

“Hey,” Sam smiled at you and you felt a familiar dust of pink bloom on your cheeks.

“Hey, Sam.” You played it off, real casual. Nothing weird happened in the car, don’t worry!

“So, I spoke to some of the people related to the vics. Looks like all the vics had ‘twin kills,’ just like the FBI agents.” Sam opened up a small notepad he had evidently taken notes in. “And a lot of them tried to elope. But the weird thing is…” He paused.

“Stop with the cliffhangers, Sammy.” Dean joked, but for some reason he didn’t sound as playful as he usually did.

Sam gave him a confused look before continuing. “Look, every pair of vics tried to elope. In fact, they all bought wedding rings. And every pair was also not in relationships or in other relationships with different people. The weird thing is, every person I spoke to that knew the victims claimed that none of them were having affairs.”

That gave you pause. “Wait, so you’re saying… Alyssa and Hank, the FBI agents, weren’t cursed to kill each other because they were cheating on their partners with each other?”

“It’s a theory,” Sam said. “When I talked to Ben, brother of that college girl vic? He said she was so madly in love with her boyfriend that it didn’t make sense for her to run off with another man.” His expression became a straight line. “Much less, kill each other for it.”

“The agents, their hearts were ripped out.” You said, beginning to pace. “And their wedding rings were sucking the life out of them. Almost making them decompose faster than they normally would, although from what we saw it had only spread up the arm.”

You stopped. As you looked at the decrepit motel wall, you could see almost a thin line of mold running down the cracks. That mildew smell; it was fucking everywhere.

Dean had only started acting weird after you got to the motel.

You turned very slowly, trying to still your beating heart. But when you turned, Dean was boring his eyes right into you. “Sam,” you said, quietly. “Did you investigate the jewelry place they’d gotten their rings from?”

Sam looked at you oddly. “No, but, good idea…” He couldn’t seem to decipher why you were acting so strangely, until he looked at his brother.

Everything happened so fast. One second, Dean was staring at you like you were a wild animal, and in the next, he pounced. He was on top of you suddenly, pinning you to the ground crazily. “Y/N, you don’t fucking deserve him!” He yelled, hands grabbing your hair and slamming you hard. Your head was spinning, unable to process what was happening.

“Dean, what the fuck!” Sam was suddenly upon him, trying to rip him off of you. You grabbed at him wildly as he moved his hands down your face, his legs trapping you beneath him as you tried to fight him off. His hands closed around your neck.

“You’re gonna love me fuckin’ forever, baby.” Dean whispered, coming in close to kiss you. You saw, then, that when he opened his mouth, tendrils of something fungal were coming out of him.

Ah, you thought, I’m going to die because of some idiot men.

That’s the last thing you consciously thought before everything went dark.

When you woke up, you were tied to the motel bed. You immediately tried to sit up and get your bearings, but you found you couldn’t move. Sam was nowhere to be seen, but you could see a large stain of blood across the floor, and dragging marks towards the closed bathroom door.

Oh god. You felt sick at the thought of Dean killing his brother in some deranged act of love for you.

Speaking of, Dean was sitting next to you on the bed, softly stroking your hair. “Hey, you’re awake.” He smiled at you, and you saw that same fungal mold sprouting from his teeth. “You should feel the mold taking effect soon.”

“Wha…” You tried to speak, unable to form words for a bit. “Wait… you know… what’s going on? And you’re… letting it happen?”

“Y/N,” Dean cooed, coming closer to you. “I know this isn’t how it was. But if this is what it feels like to love you, I don’t want to know anything else.”

Now you were really going to be sick.

“What… did you do… with Sam?” You rasped, feeling faint. Dean seemed to catch on to your dizziness and held you closer to him.

“Don’t worry about him, babe.” You could feel Dean smile as he pressed his nose to your hair. “I got rid of him for us.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. You knew there was no reason to believe this twisted version of Dean, and that Sam was plenty capable on his own, but your heart couldn’t take it. Your Sammy… gone? All for some twisted version of love?

You remembered last week when Sam had gone on a grocery run, he’d left your favorite mug out with coffee for you in the morning so you didn’t have to make it yourself. You remembered a little bit before that how he’d spent time with you looking at dogs to adopt, just for fun because you knew you wouldn’t really want one right now. And you remembered how he curled into you when he had a nightmare and how you would do the same.

Dean was your best friend. But he didn’t have anything on Sam, not to you, at least.

“Dean…” You felt a soft cry come up in your throat. The dizziness was coming over you now. You could feel the mystical mold taking hold in your heart.

“Yeah, honey?” He looked at you with adoration in his eyes.

You smiled. “I love you so much.” You leaned up and kissed him. And it felt so right and perfect and beautiful and you loved him so much you just wanted to eat him whole.

He kissed you back fervently, the two of you growing ever closer. He undid your bindings and cupped your face, unable to stop. You didn’t need to breathe anymore.

A loud BANG rudely interrupted you. You separated quickly to see Sam shove in through the front door.

“How the fuck are you alive?” Dean yelled, standing up and immediately grabbing his gun off the nightstand.

“Dean, I know you don’t really want to do this.” Sam said evenly, immediately recognizing the puffiness of your makeout lips. “But you really need to ask for consent.”

“He has my consent.” You said sharply, standing up and sliding behind Dean.

“Y/N,” Sam’s expression dropped. “Fuck.”

“He gave me what you never could, Sam!” You yelled, pointing at him aggressively. “A beating heart. The real love of a man. And…” You saw it in Dean’s pocket and pulled it out. A small box bearing two rings. “The promise of forever.”

Sam shifted his stance. You could see his expression was heartbroken, but you couldn’t understand why. Sam hadn’t loved you enough. This you were certain.

“Y/N, I promise, when this is all over, I’ll make it up to you.” Sam said softly, hazel eyes quivering slightly as he drew a small vial from his pocket. “I paid a visit to our witchy friend at the jewelry store.”

“We don’t want whatever the hell you’ve got, Sam.” Dean said, stepping forward and cocking his gun. “Don’t you understand real love when you see it?”

“She’s dead now, but she told me how to reverse the curse.” Sam was unphased, stepping forward as well. “All I need to do is give this to you guys. Then we’ll all go back to normal and this will be a bad dream.”

“Sam, this is our normal! Loving you was a mistake. It always was.” You said harshly, still sticking by Dean.

Sam sucked in a breath. His eyes trailed over you with desperation. “Y/N, please, you have to know.”

“Know what?”

“That I always loved you. Every moment of our time together. That was love, to me.” He shuddered, slightly, as he struggled to get closer to the two of you.

You were at a loss for words. Somehow, you could remember the moments you had together, but they didn’t feel meaningful at all. There was a great fog clouding your brain and you stopped for a moment, confused. At your hesitation, Dean turned to look at you.

That moment was enough for Sam to charge.

Sam leaped onto Dean and punched him square in the jaw, fumbling the gun and throwing it to the ground. Dean and Sam wrestled for a moment, and you jumped in, trying to pull Sam away. He punched you too, hard, and you flew back for a moment clutching your nose. It was bleeding.

Sam grappled with Dean and held him down as he forced his mouth open, dumping part of the contents of the red liquid inside. Afraid, you backed away from him, not wanting your love to be changed. “No, Sam! Don’t! Don’t!” Dean was knocked out cold, eyes shut.

Sam didn’t say anything as he forced you down too, pouring the liquid into your mouth. But he had a sad expression on his face as your swallowed every last drop, falling back into a deep sleep.

When you woke up, you were on the bed.

Dean was on the ground, sitting up slightly and looking around. Again, there was no sign of Sam, but you had a feeling you knew where he was. Groaning, you sat up and rubbed your eyes.

“Y/N.” Dean said softly, and you turned to him with a sheepish smile.

“Hey, Dean.”

“Look…” you could see a thousand apologies on his lips, and you shook your head.

“Dean. It’s okay.”

Dean flinched at that. “How could it be? I forced myself on you, Y/N. It was disgusting.”

You almost laughed at that. Only self-sacrifical Dean Winchester would apologize for something out of his control.

“It’s really okay, Dean.” You both stood up and he seemed to make himself smaller.

“I hope you know I don’t mean anything I said,” he said, pursing his lips.

“Oh, what, you’re not madly in love with me?” You elbowed him, still trying to break the tension.

“God, shut up. You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” He groaned. There he was- your regular Dean was back.

“Nope.” You smiled at him, then started for the door. “But I need to talk to Sam, like, now.”

“Yeah.” Dean was close behind you. “I think I need to detox from this fucking gross mold. I’ll see you lovebirds in the car.”

The two of you separated as you headed to your separate room. You saw Sam standing outside already, leaning against the door in thought.

“Hey, Sammy.” You said, leaning beside him.

“Y/N.” Sam breathed a sigh of relief as he saw you, and then glanced at his brother getting in the Impala. “Are you okay?”

You looked at him a long moment before throwing your arms around him. He stumbled, slightly, before squeezing you tightly.

“Yeah, thank you.” You replied, not wanting to let go. You wanted to memorize the shape of his hands on your back and the way his jacket smelled.

“Look, about what happened…” Sam started, pulling back from you slightly. He looked a little dizzy from your close contact, and you felt satisfied knowing you had the same effect on each other.

“Sam,” You said seriously. “You have to know.”

“Know what?” He looked at you, confused.

“That I’ve always loved you, duh.” You smiled at him, remembering what he said to you earlier. “And that none of what I said under the influence of the mold was true.” You squeezed his sides again, trying to retain that closeness. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted. I’m sorry you even had to see me with Dean.”

He was at a loss for words. You squeezed him again to pump some life into him.

“Still with me, Sam?”

“Yeah, Y/N. Always.” Sam swooped you up and hugged you tight, laughing. “Thank god. I was afraid…”

“I know.”

“But…”

“Yeah, I know.” You laughed, too. “I promise, you’re the only Winchester for me.”

Sam pulled away from you just enough to lean down and kiss you, sweetly. You kissed him back with ferocity, and he grabbed at your waist and pulled you in close. You felt sparks as you kissed, the way his hands grabbed at you and the way his hair felt under your fingers. This was everything you’d ever wanted, and more.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, pulling away just to go back for more. You smiled into that kiss, half-giggling as he kept pulling you in, his strong hands keeping you tethered. God, you wanted to be close to him.

“Hey, losers!” The two of you separated to hear Dean honking the Impala at you. “We’re wasting daylight! Hurry up already!”

You smiled at Sam, and he smiled back. Some things would never change.

#supernatural x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural one shot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #reader insert

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sapphic-agent · 8 months

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Let's Talk About Bakugou's Apology

Jfc, I swear this wasn't meant to be an MHA blog but whatever. Let's get into this.

I wanted to give Bakugou stans the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to think that they would only hype something up if it was groundbreaking. I wanted to believe that Horikoshi was a halfway decent writer and would put actual effort into such a pivotal, revered moment in the series.

I was left sorely disappointed for multiple reasons.

1) A List of Excuses To be completely fair to Bakugou, he does take some accountability which was more than I expected. He does acknowledge that what he did was wrong a few times during his little speech. I have to give him credit for that. However, it's overshadowed by the narrative making sure to stress that it was the people around Bakugou who were at fault for that behavior. Which isn't true because even before he got his quirk, he still treated Izuku like garbage. He gave him the name Deku and acted like he was above everyone way before Izuku was deemed quirkless.

(I'd also like to add that the only thing that literal pre-school teacher said was that Bakugou's quirk could make for a fine hero. He was the one who ran with it and decided that it made him better than everyone and that he would be the best)

There's also the fact that every time he does point out what he did was wrong, there's always some kind of justification behind it. "I did... because I felt..." It undermines what's supposed to be a genuine apology because it's not about Bakugou's feelings, he wasn't the one hurt (more on this later).

2) Timing

So many people have brought this up and they're absolutely right; that was the worst possible time for this to happen. Izuku was injured, starving, and dirty. Not to mention his mental state is practically in shambles. He's been isolating himself for weeks in his attempts to walk a selfless, lonely path. The absolute last thing he needed was this shitty apology.

This was supposed to be an effort for Class 1A to show Izuku that they care about him and to convince him to share his burden and come back to UA with them and rest and heal. Instead that genuine effort is highjacked by Bakugou rambling on about something entirely unrelated. He could have done this during the bath scene or even right after that. Instead, it's shoehorned into Izuku's actual friends trying their best to help him.

Iida's words should have been the final ones. They had enough impact and were way more powerful. There was no reason for Bakugou's apology to be the finishing lines.

3) The Insults

It's wild to me that Bakugou apologized for insulting Izuku... right after purposely insulting Izuku.

This is something that has been detrimental to Bakugou's entire character "redemption". "Oh, he's changing!" Except he's still doing the same shit he's always done. It undermines the entire point of redeeming him.

(I hate to be pro Endeavor in any way, but at least when he decided to change he made the genuine effort to stay that way and didn't relapse into old habits)

Not only did him mocking Izuku do absolutely nothing to change his mind, it's just so shitty to do to someone who's clearly struggling. If you are incapable of showing empathy and kindness at a time like this, shut up and sit down because there's no reason for you to open your mouth. You're not helping, you're only making things worse.

And then he says, "I don't expect this to change things between us." Like bro, that's completely on you. All you have to do is not be a dick and act like your apology actually meant something by refraining from hurling insults at someone who did nothing to deserve it. But even after this apology, he continues to yell at and insult Izuku. Sato and Tokoyami even call him out on this, only it's just played for laughs.

Word to the wise kids, an apology means nothing if just keep repeating your bad behavior.

4) No Autonomy for the Victim

Not once do we get to see what Izuku's thinking. Not once do we ever see things from his point of view.

This moment is entirely about Bakugou. It's only a plot device to develop his character and make him come off better. And Izuku who was the victim gets no attention. He doesn't even get to respond, he just faints by the end of it.

In fact, the closest thing we ever get to an insight into Izuku's feelings is All Might saying that he wouldn't hold what Bakugou did against him. That's such a copout considering a) nothing Izuku did ever indicated he felt that way and b) another person is speaking for him. He doesn't even get to say this himself.

Horikoshi does this consistently. Izuku is never allowed to voice how he feels. We never get to see how things are affecting him. The only time he's ever permitted to show strong emotions is when it's in favor of someone else. You would think that by this point in the story that would be rectified. But no, everything has to be about Bakugou. Not even in his own rescue story can Izuku ever be the center of attention. No, it's all about making Bakugou better.

(Again I hate to be pro Endeavor, but at least Shoto, Fuyumi, and Natsu get to respond to Endeavor's attempts at atonement on their own terms. Natsu is allowed to be angry. Fuyumi gets to make the choice to forgive him. Shoto is allowed to ponder the decision. Both cases are terrible abuse narratives, but at least the Todoroki kids have a say in how they feel and are allowed to express it. Izuku doesn't even get that)

It feels like Izuku isn't even allowed to be a victim in any way, shape, or form. He's just there to prop Bakugou

#anti bakugou katsuki #anti bakugou #bnha critical #mha critical #anti bakugo katsuki #izuku deserves better

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starlightkun · 8 months

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❧ word count: 10.3k ❧ warnings: cursing, mentions and discussion of past family deaths, discussions of blood and blood drinking, graphic description of blood and blood drinking, an even more graphic description of neck biting than the first one lol (y’know, vampire stuff, hope we weren’t expecting anything else) ❧ genre: fluff, angst but between friends not our main couple, modern magical creatures au, fantasy au, college au, vampire kun, human reader, ft. various other magical weishens, same universe as strawberry sunday, sequel to romance is dead ❧ extra info: this is a sequel to romance is dead! it cannot be read as a standalone, you must read romance is dead first! this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe (aside from romance is dead to this one), they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ author’s note: a second inspiration has hit the author, mr. president

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

i believe in miracles, something more than physical

“Hey, guys—”

“You know, Kunhang, just write a paper about it in your Philosophy of Magic class, because I’m sick of hearing about it,” you spat at the gryphon sitting across from you, paying Yangyang—who had just walked up and you had cut off—entirely no attention.

“I’m not even in Philosophy of Magic, so—” Kunhang shot back, giving you a smug look.

Yangyang’s bright smile turned to a look of ‘yikes’ as he pivoted on his heel, presumably to make a break from what he had just walked into. Except Ten’s hand darted out to latch onto his forearm and yank him down into a chair at the table.

“Oh, no you don’t,” the siren said through gritted teeth. “This is your fault, you’re going to suffer through it with the rest of us.”

“My fault? How? I just got here.”

Dejun leaned in from across the table, “They’re debating the ethics of blood drinking. Or, Kunhang is at least trying to.”

“And he’s about fifty years late to it in modern academia at least,” Sicheng snorted softly, bringing the straw of his drink up to his mouth.

“That’s also like the first assignment you get in every Intro to MCS class ever.” Yangyang ripped open a ketchup packet to begin squirting it all over his fries. “Why is he—”

All of his friends who weren’t currently hurtling verbal vitriol at each other instead gave him a very frank, pointed look. The witch trailed off.

“Oh. Right.” He picked up a fry that had gotten a bit too much ketchup on it, watching as a glob of the red condiment dripped off it before biting it in half.

You, meanwhile, were this fucking close to storming out of the student union building and keying Kunhang’s car. You weren’t one for violence, but you absolutely were one for vandalism and property damage. And it would be so goddamn cathartic to key his car right about now. After all, this wasn’t the first, nor second, nor even third time that he had tried to philosophize and/or debate you out of your relationship.

Speaking of, you spotted a familiar figure approaching your table, one that was able to dissolve just enough tension and malice from your body in that moment that you decided to save keying Kunhang’s car for another day.

“Oh! Kun!” You lifted your hand to give him a small wave, despite the fact that you definitely knew that he had both seen and smelled you, and was already headed straight for you.

Kunhang noticeably clenched his jaw and shifted back in his seat, clearly upset at your discussion being interrupted. Thankfully, he generally had the decency to not do all this in front of your boyfriend.

Kun offered an enchanting smile as he approached, first picking one of your hands up to kiss the back of it as always, then he pecked your cheek. “Hello, Y/N.”

“Hi, Kun.” Your gaze followed him as he walked around behind you to take the empty seat you’d saved for him in between you and Dejun.

“Good afternoon, everybody,” the vampire nodded to your other friends.

A chorus of ‘Hey, Kun’s came from around the table, save for the gryphon across from you. You stared him down angrily, but he refused to make eye contact with you.

“Did you get held up or something?” You turned your focus to your boyfriend instead, referencing his unusual tardiness to your friend group’s typical late-lunch meetup.

“I had to speak with my professor about a recent test grade. It turns out he entered it in the electronic gradebook wrong. I didn’t expect it to take so long, I’m sorry, my love, I should have texted you to let you know I was going to be late.”

“Kun, it’s okay,” you reassured him, taking his hand in yours and resting them on your lap. “It was just a few minutes.”

“Sucks about your grade, though,” Yangyang added, then stuffing three fries in his mouth at once.

“It’s been corrected, so no harm done.” Kun had an easy smile on his face as he conversed, one that you were happy to see more and more.

“Why even correct it?” Kunhang huffed from his seat, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re going to live forever, what do grades even matter? You can just take the class again, right? Get another degree, you can get a million degrees, I’m sure you already have a hundred or two. What does this one little grade even matter? What does any of this even matter to you? What do any of us even matter to you?”

“Kunhang, stop it!” You snapped, your grip tightening on Kun’s hand. You knew where that line of questioning was going, or had already gone implicitly. So what did you matter to Kun, then? But you already knew plenty about Kun’s view on life, both the finite and his eternal one, and how much he treasured everything he had now and looked forward to all the changes that were yet to come. Kunhang, of course, knew nothing about that, because this was so far the closest thing he’d had to a real conversation with the vampire since you and Kun had officially started dating.

“This was my midterm test grade, which is a significant portion of the class’s overall grade as this professor only gives three grades: midterm, final, and final paper. If I had to repeat the class, it would affect my current plan to graduate next semester with Y/N and begin my master’s next fall.” Kun, who you would’ve sworn was an actual angel if not for the red eyes, calmly answered only his first question.

“Y/N, seriously? You have life plans with a—”

You finally felt something fully snap inside of you, letting go of Kun’s hand to slam both of your palms on the table and stand up out of your chair. “Just shut the fuck up, Kunhang! You’re not him! You know that, right? You’re not him, so just stop it already!”

Kunhang’s nostrils flared as he stared you right back down, his grey eyes swirling like storm clouds. Then he grabbed his backpack off the ground and stormed out of the student union, knocking his chair so far back in his haste that it hit a student sitting at the table behind you.

You were still rooted to the same spot, your hands flat against the table, leaning over it, your eyes glued to the doors that the gryphon had left through. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, feeling the anger tingling in the tips of your fingers and your toes like electricity.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Ten asked quietly, hesitantly.

“No,” you answered flatly, grabbing your own bag and taking off in the opposite direction.

Hot tears were already pricking at your eyes before you pushed open the door to leave the building, and you couldn’t even make it to the sidewalk that wrapped around the main block of campus before the tears gathering in your vision made it too hard to see.

You stopped at a bench, looking around hopefully and letting out a rather pitiful, “Kun?”

He emerged from the crowd of students just a moment later, relief flashing across his face for a moment before a deep line set between his brows again as he came to sit beside you. You immediately buried your face in his neck, and he wrapped his arms around you, resting a hand on the back of your head.

“There you are, my love,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I was late again.”

You let out a strangled giggle into the material of his sweatervest at that. Turning your head so your words wouldn’t be so muffled, you joked, “It’s okay, I was kind of running away.”

“Still, I should be faster than you.”

“Mm, good point.”

You were still crying, the tears falling down your cheeks one after another. But you didn’t want to keep crying on campus with the sounds of other people walking by. While you certainly weren’t the first person to cry on this bench—nor would you be the last—you didn’t want to prolong your stint there any longer.

“Kun?” You mumbled his name.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Can you take me home please?”

“Of course.”

“Your home,” you clarified.

He shifted to hold you just a bit tighter to him. “Of course, my love.”

At Kun’s house, you were sat on his plush olive-green couch, your knees pulled up to your chest as you blew on a mug of hot tea that he had just handed you. Both of you were fresh out of a nice relaxing bath, with comfy clothes on courtesy of your boyfriend, who had also insisted on making you a cup of calming tea. You did make him promise that it wasn’t one of those spiked blends that witches sold. He assured you it was just regular old chamomile that you could pick up at a human supermarket.

Kun sat down beside you, resting an arm along the back of the couch behind you. You continued listlessly staring at the surface of the tea, watching the ripples on the surface as you blew across it.

“Kunhang wasn’t even my best friend first, you know?” You said abruptly into the quiet.

Kun took it in stride, asking curiously, “Whose was he, then?”

“My brother’s.”

“Your… brother’s…” He repeated slowly, and you knew exactly what he was thinking about: when he had met your immediate family just a few weeks ago, your mom and dad. No siblings.

“Yeah, Kunhang’s family lived across the street. They were inseparable growing up. It was practically like having two big brothers,” you recalled fondly, a bittersweet smile playing across your lips for a moment before it fell off completely at what was coming next. “Then after the funeral, Kunhang and I would check up on each other. Calls, texts, getting lunch, ‘wow you’re graduating already I can’t believe you’ve gotten so big,’ and we just kind of never stopped.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Kun ran a gentle, cool knuckle up your cheek to catch a stray tear. You grabbed his hand to hold it instead, giving it a tight squeeze.

“What are you apologizing for?” You sniffled, a hint of playfulness in your tone as you echoed the words he’d said to you when he’d told you about his parents’ passing.

“Isn’t that what you say? I’m sorry for your loss?” He murmured back, clearly aware of the same déjà vu, but with no sense of irony or humor to the words.

“Yeah, I am too.” You finally took a sip of the tea, and immediately let out a hiss. Too hot still. “Anyway, I actually think everyone was expecting that Kunhang and I were going to end up together but he’s just… it’s not like that. And I think he thinks his job is to be my brother now. To watch over me since… my brother can’t anymore.”

“‘You’re not him…’” Kun repeated in recognition.

“I know… that probably hurt him a lot.” You gnawed on your bottom lip regretfully as you imagined the kind of pain those words must have put your friend through. “But I wish he could just get it through his stupid bird brain that he doesn’t have to do that. All I need him to be is my friend.”

Kun rubbed his thumb over yours tenderly. “Have you told him that?”

“No, no I haven’t,” you admitted, reluctantly realizing that you unfortunately weren’t entirely faultless in this. Or, at least that you could be doing much more to patch things up instead of expecting Kunhang to just read your mind.

“Maybe try that?” He suggested.

“Okay, yeah. You’re right.” You lifted the mug to your lips once more, then immediately spat the tea back out. “God, Kun! Did you get the water for this from the surface of the fucking Sun? What the fuck?!”

“The Sun is far too hot to maintain liquid water,” he deadpanned, earning a frank glare from you.

“You’re hilarious. You and Kunhang should do stand-up together if he ever gets the mile-long stick out of his ass.”

“He should see a doctor about that.”

You shifted forward to set the mug down on the ornately carved cherry wood coffee table. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of it tomorrow.”

“You’re such a Good Samaritan.”

Kun enveloped you in his arms as you turned around to wrap yours around him, resting your head on his chest. He laid the both of you down on the couch, pulling a blanket down off the back to lay it over you. You liked laying like this, because despite everyone else telling you that vampires were technically dead, when you and Kun were like this, you could hear him breathing in and out—and yes maybe that was just for him to keep track of smells like the apex predator he technically was, but it’s not like you didn’t do the same thing; take an extra deep inhale when you were here, wearing his clothes, in his home, being held by him. And you could hear something beating in his chest, too. What was it pumping, to where, and for what purpose, you didn’t know, or really care. All you knew was that despite it all, Kun was right here, with you, and you could hear that, feel that, know that, and know that he always would be, even after you were gone.

“Kun?” You looked up at him, your chest getting warm and tight when you realized that he had already been gazing down at you.

“Yes?” He traced your jawline with one finger seemingly absentmindedly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Kiss me?”

“Ah, how could I resist?” He tilted your chin up as he bent his neck to connect his cool lips with your warm ones.

In the morning, you finally woke up, sitting up and stretching out what felt like a decade of tension from your body. You always felt like you got the best sleep of your life at Kun’s place thanks to his carefully acquired silk sheets and vampire-level blackout curtains. Blindly reaching out in the dark for the other side of the bed, you were disappointed to find it empty. Figures, Kun never slept in, if he even slept at all. Well, you could at least turn a light on. You turned exactly one bedside wall sconce on—which you guessed was probably originally meant to be for oil but Kun had retrofitted to be electric—and immediately spotted a folded piece of paper standing up on your nightstand.

Propping yourself up on an elbow, you grabbed the small piece of cardstock, unfolding it and holding it up to the sconce to be able to read the neat script that was on it. Rubbing sleep out of your eyes, a smile spread across your lips as you recognized it as another poem from Kun. An Italian sonnet, if you weren’t mistaken. He would still pen you verses at random intervals, but at least never gave them when there was a risk of your nosy friends being around.

You read it through one more time before setting it back on the nightstand and swinging your feet over the side of the bed. After first shuffling to the bathroom, you then shuffled to the bedroom door.

You found a full fare of breakfast already set up at the kitchen table, but no vampire in sight. Huh. Usually even if he wasn’t going to eat, he would at least sit with you and read a book or chat with you while you ate.

Loading up a few pieces of fruit and finger foods onto a plate, you took your breakfast to go into the living room to look for your boyfriend. He was a quick find, at least, sitting at his producing desk. His head was bobbing along to whatever he was listening to, sitting cross-legged in his desk chair as he leaned forward on both elbows on the desk. Which was probably why he couldn’t hear or feel you approaching until you laid a hand on his back.

Kun’s shoulders jumped as he startled and whipped around, pulling his headphones off. You couldn’t help but laugh at his wide, surprised eyes. It wasn’t often that you could give a vampire a scare, after all.

He put a hand over his chest, a relieved smile coming to his face, “Oh, it’s just you, Y/N. You startled me.”

“Clearly,” you snickered, popping a grape in your mouth. You rubbed your hand up and down his back. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, nothing.” He quickly minimized the tabs on his screens.

“And that’s not suspicious at all,” you snorted. “But fine, you want to do a little secret project, go for it.”

“You found breakfast.” Kun smiled up at you, gesturing to your plate of food.

“Changing the subject, also not suspicious. But yes, I did. The poem, too. Thank you for both.”

“Also, good morning, my love.”

“Good morning, Kun.” You cupped his cheek to pull him into a good morning kiss. “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. “No, that’s all yours.”

“Not what I meant. You didn’t feed last night, unless you had some supplement this morning before I woke up.”

“We were talking about a delicate subject. Not exactly the time to ask to bite you, I think.”

“You never ask to bite me. I always have to offer.”

“Well—”

“Do I not taste good, Kun?” You asked humorously, mock offense in your tone.

He seemed at a loss for words, caught between not wanting to insult you and not wanting you to feel obligated to let him feed on you. “That’s not—”

“I’m kidding, hon,” you tossed another piece of fruit in your mouth. Stroking a thumb over his cheekbone, you reiterated firmly, “But are you hungry? And be honest with me, Qian Kun. You know that if you need to feed, all you have to do is ask.”

“You eat first,” he covered your hand that was on his face with his, and offered you a small smile. “Then I will. Okay?”

After finishing your plate of food, you were back in Kun’s bedroom, sat in a plush, oversized armchair with him. He had you in between his legs, your back flush to his front with both arms around your waist. You leaned back against him contentedly, resting your head against his as you rubbed circles into his inner thigh with your thumb.

“You always get quiet right before… What goes on up there every time?” You murmured, threading the fingers of your other hand through the hair at the back of his head. “Angsting about being a monster? Contemplating about your soul being damned? Indulge me, Kun.”

He let out a short laugh at your dramatics, his cold breath laugh blowing over the exposed skin of your neck, and his chest vibrating against you. “No, nothing like that. I’ve long disposed of thoughts like that about what I am, thankfully.”

“Good. Then what is it?” You dropped your hand and craned your head to be able to see his profile.

Even in the dim light afforded by the single wall sconce, you could see the warmth flickering in his scarlet irises as his gaze met yours. “I just stop to appreciate the moment, to appreciate you. I want to make sure I’ll never forget how lucky I am to have you.”

You closed the small gap between you, pressing your lips to his. Kun kissed you back unhurriedly, mouth moving against yours tenderly. It was you that moved to deepen the kiss, parting your lips. Always one to indulge you, he swiped his tongue against yours, cool and familiar. You didn’t break apart until you needed to breathe again, and even then, exchanged a handful more open-mouthed kisses full of tongue and teeth. Kun kept kissing a wet trail from your mouth to your jaw, then behind your ear, then down your neck. You let your head fall back on his shoulder as he stopped to press several kisses over one spot in particular. His deep inhale was audible. Anticipation pulsed through your body with every beat of your heart.

Your hand hadn’t stopped smoothing circles into his leg, and your grip on him tightened as you were alight with excitement. One of his hands reached out to lace with your free hand and wrap back around your waist.

Then, with one more gentle brush of his lips against your pulse point, he bit you. The familiar sharp piercing of his fangs breaking skin came first, followed by a sweet, soothing ecstasy that spread out from the bite through the entirety of your body. You shifted slightly to relax further back into him, a noise between a hum and sigh coming from your mouth. Kun squeezed your hand that he was holding, and you were quick to squeeze it back, an easy way for him to check in on you while he was drinking from you. If your grip wasn’t as strong as he’d like, or you failed to respond at all, he would’ve stopped entirely for fear of overdrinking. And if you ever wanted him to stop, you just had to squeeze his hand twice in row. You’d never had to use that signal once, nor did you ever imagine that you would; Kun was always a perfect gentleman before, during, and after, never coming close to overfeeding. If anything, you were sure that he erred on the side of underfeeding himself and supplementing with the artificial blood he kept in his fridge.

Kun’s mouth sucked the tender area as his tongue smoothed over the two rivulets draining from you. Another soft sound came from you as you reached up to grab his head, holding him there by the hair. You could feel him chuckle fondly against your neck, the vibrations thrumming through your body.

Like always, it was over much too soon for your liking. He took his mouth from your skin, pressing one more tender kiss to the spot where he bit before disconnecting entirely. Kun gently unwound your fingers from his hair and reluctantly unlaced his hand that was holding yours. He kept his arms around you, though, as he reached over to the short table that was beside the chair and grabbed a small tin no bigger than the palm of his hand.

Twisting the lid off, he leaned all the way back in the chair, encouraging you to sit back against him, turned just slightly to the side. He gently applied the salve to the bite, and you let your eyes flutter shut as you enjoyed the feeling of cool fingers running over the sensitive area. Sometimes you didn’t let him apply the bite salve, enjoying the look of a vampire bite on your neck for a few days. But today could not be one of those days, which you both knew very well. Not with who you’d have to go talk to soon after this.

When he was done, Kun closed the tin back up and set it aside once more, rubbing the remaining product into his own hands before wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on the opposite shoulder from where he’d just bit.

The smell of rosemary wafted up to your nose from the bite salve, and you contentedly rested your head against Kun’s. The wound would close up and heal in just a couple minutes now, leaving behind no trace of the bite.

“How do you feel?” He murmured right beside your ear.

“Mm, great,” you answered truthfully, playing with his fingers. “How about you?”

“Good, I’m good.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, Y/N. My miracle…”

You trudged up a hill, wiping away a bead of sweat that had gathered on your brow. When you’d gone to Kunhang and Yangyang’s apartment after breakfast that morning, you’d only been able to find the witch. He’d informed you that your gryphon friend had taken off early to go flying, but hadn’t told Yangyang where. Lucky for you, you knew exactly where he’d be anyway. Kunhang’s favorite flying spot was a park near your old neighborhood which had been made a specifically designated fly space. It was several square miles where no planes, helicopters, drones, or even kites could be flown to make it safe for gryphons, phoenixes, and other flying beings to stretch out their wings. It doubled as a nature preserve with walking trails, benches, and posted signs protecting the wildlife and plants.

You’d already caught sight of your target back on the walking trails, and were now chasing him down at a severe disadvantage on foot. Finally reaching the clearing he was doing the majority of his aerial tricks above, you stopped and looked up at him, using a hand to shield your face from the sun.

“Kunhang!” You called out to your friend, who was currently somersaulting through the air, powerful grey wings stretched out behind him.

He looked down at you, then pretended not to hear you, swooping down into a backflip.

“Kunhang, come on!” You yelled out desperately. “I-I want to apologize! Please!”

He stopped in midair at that, a fair distance above you. You had to crane your neck up to look at him.

“You want to apologize?” He looked down at you in disbelief.

“Yes! Now would you get down here so we don’t have to have this entire conversation shouting at each other? Again.”

“No.” He dropped down to hover just in front of you. “But you can come up.”

“What?”

“Come on, you know the drill.” He was now stood on the ground with two feet.

“And I’m also not seven anymore,” you scoffed.

“You’re the one who wanted to talk.”

“Fine.” With a roll of your eyes, you wrapped your arms around Kunhang’s shoulders.

“God, no need to choke me out.” He made a mock choking sound, pulling at your arms to loosen your grip on him. “If I pass out, we’re both going down, you know.”

You pinched the skin on the back of his neck. “Just fly, stupid.”

And with that, Kunhang pushed up off the ground, his powerful wings easily lifting the both of you up higher and higher. Your flight didn’t last long, just until your friend had reached a tree branch he deemed suitable for the both of you to sit on, high above everything else, your feet swinging below you. The two of you were side-by-side, his wings folded up behind him.

“I’m sorry,” you started, making sure to hold your end of the promise first. “For what I said to you in the student union yesterday. It was a really shitty thing of me to say, and I don’t want you to think for a second that I don’t appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me, Kunhang.”

The gryphon was quiet next to you, and you took him not flying off as a good sign.

“While I shouldn’t have said it to you like that, I need you to understand: You do not have to be my brother.”

You heard him breathe in sharply, like he was about to say something back, but you pushed on.

“For you to think that you’ve had to not only carry the burden of your grief, but mine, and that kind of responsibility, for all these years… I don’t want you to think you have to shoulder all of that. Because you don’t.” You took your eyes off of the leaves in front of you and finally looked over at him. He was staring straight ahead, his mouth a hard line but you saw the tears gathering in his eyes. Your eyes were stinging with bitter tears of your own, and you continued through the lump in your throat, “I need you to listen to me when I say this, Kunhang. I am relieving you of that, okay? Please, let it go. You are not failing me, or him, to just be my friend. I need you to be my friend. My best friend, in the whole world, okay? Can you please do that?”

Kunhang still wasn’t saying anything, but you saw a tear finally slip down his cheek, and his bottom lip trembled. You reached out to hesitantly take his hand, and were surprised when he squeezed yours back with an iron grip.

“I had a brother, and he was great. And he’s gone now.” Your voice cracked over the word ‘gone,’ which was when your friend finally looked at you, and you gave him a bittersweet smile. “And that’s okay. You can’t help either of us hold onto him by becoming him. So can you please let it go? Just let the weight on your shoulders go?”

The gryphon’s brow creased with concern as he finally spoke, “Then who’s going to look out for you, Y/N?”

“Did he ask you to? Look out for me?”

Kunhang nodded.

You looked up towards the sky and gave a cynical but fond chuckle. “Of course he did. You can look out for me, Kunhang. But there’s a difference between looking out for me, and blatantly treating me like a child who can’t be trusted to make her own decisions. I think that’s what’s been hurting me the most. It’s fine that maybe you’re a little iffy about Kun, he’s a vampire that you don’t really know—well, Yangyang kind of does, but whatever, he’s Yangyang.”

That earned you a choked giggle from your friend, and you chuckled a little as well.

“That little bit of suspicion over your friend’s new boyfriend is normal, even welcome sometimes, except you’ve been making me feel like you don’t trust me. Like you think that I’m stupid or something.” You explained with a sigh, disappointment coloring your voice.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Kunhang admitted, looking at you wistfully. “I don’t think you’re some stupid little kid, by any means. You’ve grown up into such a smart, incredible person that I know your brother is proud of, and that I’m proud of, too, like you’re my own sister.”

“Then act like it, dude,” you scoffed, using your free hand to give him a light smack on the head. “You’ve been making all these assumptions about Kun, and about our relationship, and you refuse to even listen to me or actually like properly sit down and talk to him to see what we’re like together. You want to be the dependable older brother friend? You’ve got to put in the work being you know, dependable, not just be a moody piece of shit about new boyfriends.”

“Okay, I deserve that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But come on, it’s not like he’s new, I mean, he is hundreds of years old.”

“I would shove you out of this tree if I didn’t think you’d take me down with you.”

“So like...” he grimaced. “Does he drink your blood?”

You let go of his hand to cross your arms, and looked Kunhang dead in the eye. “Do you actually want the answer to that?”

The gryphon’s eyes widened comically. “He does?! Y/N!”

“Kunhang, what did we just talk about?”

“Right. Sorry. Uhm... so... tell me about it? I guess?” Each word sounded like its own question, like he was forcing it out.

“Again, do you actually want me to?”

“No,” he answered quickly, a shudder going down his spine. “Just tell me whatever will be reassuring, please.”

You laughed. “Okay. It doesn’t hurt me, seriously. Uh... Kun’s diet is still mostly synthetic blood replacement, and he’ll probably never fully rely on live feeding from me, even after we move in together. Since he’s... old he can control his hunger and his feedings very well. He’s never overfed from me and never will. Happy?”

“You’re moving in together?”

“That’s what you got from that?”

“I know you, Y/N. You thought you could sneak that in among all that blood drinking talk to distract me.” He waggled a finger disapprovingly at you.

“God, fine, Kunhang.” You rolled your eyes. “When my lease is up at the end of next semester, Kun and I have discussed moving in together. But that’s still months away, no need to get your feathers in a bunch yet.”

“How long have you two been dating?”

“Kunhang—”

“I’m just gathering data.” He held his hands up defensively.

“Whatever. You want to gather data? Come over to Kun’s for dinner tonight.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, giving you a feigned apologetic grimace. “Ooh, sorry, I actually just drank some blood for breakfast, so I was going to get some sushi—”

“Save it for open mic night. He’s cooking food and you can bring Yangyang.”

“Sounds great! What time?”

“What are you so dressed up for?” You quirked an eyebrow up when you caught sight of Kun re-emerging from the bedroom in a fresh button-up shirt and pair of dress slacks. “It’s just Kunhang and Yangyang.”

The vampire went back to the pan that he had been tending to on the stove. “I’m hosting dinner at my house, for one. And for some reason that I can’t seem to put my finger on, this feels like a meet-the-parents part two.”

You scoffed at that little jest at the end. “You’ve met Kunhang before.”

“And I got this weird feeling that he didn’t like me.”

“Oh, was it the death glares or all the times I told you he was trying to talk me out of dating you that clued you in?”

He chuckled. “Still, it can’t hurt to want to make a good impression.”

You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his shoulder. “It’s going to be fine, hon. I’m here, and Yangyang will be too, which I think will actually help for once.”

“That is a scary thought.”

“You know, I think we give him too little credit sometimes.”

“Who? Yangyang?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“If it weren’t for his ineptitude, we wouldn’t have gotten together.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Kun set his spatula down and turned around. He readjusted the collar of your shirt, tender gaze tracing over your features. “Now, call me superstitious, but—”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the concept of a vampire being superstitious. A soft smile played across Kun’s lips before he continued.

“—but I think that we would have found each other without the love potion. I don’t know which one of our choices would have eventually made the life that finally brought us together like this, but I think they would. My miracle...” He cupped your cheeks, pulling you in for a gentle, sweet kiss.

While you never wanted this moment to end, the faint, acrid smell of something burning wafted up to your nose, and before you had fully processed that, Kun was already pulling back from the kiss. He cursed under his breath, turning around and pulling the pan off the burner, quickly flipping the food over. You peeked around him to look, seeking a few spots that were a bit blackened.

“Sorry…” You pecked his cheek sheepishly before stepping back fully to leave the kitchen.

Kunhang and Yangyang arrived soon after, the witch almost immediately, and predictably, making a crack about Kun’s house looking like a yard sale, which the gryphon found hilarious. Soon, though, you were seated for dinner, Kun dishing up food for everybody then taking his seat beside you.

“I do have to apologize, one side got a little too crispy,” Kun bowed his head apologetically as everybody had picked up their utensils. “I did my best to alleviate it after the fact, but there may still be some burned areas.”

“Oh, and what were you two doing?” Kunhang waggled his eyebrows, lifting his fork to his mouth.

“Mm?” Your boyfriend didn’t look up from cutting up his food. “Ah, I was changing my shirt and Y/N was setting the table so neither of us were paying attention.”

You opted not to respond, busying yourself with taking a deep sip of your water.

Your gryphon friend dropped his fork back onto his plate with a clatter, disgust on his face. “Y/N, I can hear your heartbeat! Gross!”

“I keep telling you, Kunhang, don’t ask questions that you don’t want the answers to!” You snapped back, pointing a finger at him accusatorily.

“It was just a joke!”

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes!”

Yangyang pushed the food on his plate around with his own fork. “Suddenly I’m not hungry…”

“Oh my god, it’s perfectly sanitary, don’t be dramatic.” You smacked his arm. “It’s either eat it or starve, Yangyang.”

And with that, the witch was back to shoveling food in his mouth. “Don’t have to tell me twice. This is great, Kun!”

Your boyfriend sighed and shook his head. “Thanks, Yangyang.”

After dinner, you knew that Kun was going to start habitually clearing the table, but you already had a plan in mind.

“Kunhang, have you seen Kun’s PC setup?” You asked casually, grabbing yours and Kun’s empty plates before the vampire could. You knew damn well that Kunhang hadn’t seen the computer in his stubborn crusade to avoid Kun at all costs.

The gryphon’s features perked up minutely in interest. “No. Is it a custom build?”

Kun nodded as he reached for a glass. “Yes, it is. I can show you after I—”

But you swiped the glass just before his fingertips could brush it. “You two can go look at it. Yangyang and I have got clean up. Right, Yang?”

To your surprise, the witch gave a thumbs-up from where he was reclined casually in his dining chair, pushing it back to balance just on the rear two feet. “Yeah, all good. Go talk nerd shit.”

“Are you sure?” Your boyfriend asked you, a visible frown on his features over leaving you with clean-up duty.

“Of course. You cooked, we can do the dishes,” you reassured him with a bright smile.

“Alright, thank you.” He pecked your cheek before leading Kunhang out of the dining room.

Once you felt comfortable that you were no longer in the gryphon’s and vampire’s magical earshot, you looked to Yangyang with a curious head tilt.

“So why’d you let me volunteer you for dish duty with no complaints?”

“I knew what you were doing,” he said with a shrug, and stood up to help clear the table. “I don’t like pissy Kunhang anymore than you do, so whatever you think will help.”

“Thanks, Yangyang.” You smiled at your friend sincerely, carrying your stack of plates and utensils over to the sink. “Do you mind putting the leftovers away and I’ll wash the dishes? Heads up, there is blood supplement in the fridge, but it’s synthetic, I promise. If that’s too weird, you can just put everything in containers and I’ll put it away after I’m done washing.”

“I don’t mind, I’ve dealt with grosser. Witch, remember?”

“Right, thanks.”

As Yangyang spooned the little leftover food that there was into a container, you rinsed off the dishes and loaded up the dishwasher.

“So you’re really cool with all this, huh?” Yangyang commented as he opened the fridge up.

“All what?” You asked curiously. “Kun being a vampire? Having to keep my food next to my boyfriend’s synthetic blood? I mean, I grew up with Kunhang and other magical creatures, remember?”

“Fair.” He put the food in and shut the appliance again, leaning against the counter next to you. “So, do you think you could ever do it?”

At your blank stare, Yangyang added on, “Drink blood. I mean, technically you already drank Kun’s in the love potion, but you know, willingly, and a lot of it. If you were to become a vampire, and I’m not even asking existentially about living forever or anything, just the diet. Do you think you could do it? If worst came to worst and blood supplements and synthetic blood were no longer available.”

The witch had a grin on his face like the two of you were giggling kids playing Would You Rather at a sleepover and talking about your crushes, not the actual question he had just posed to you. You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought, still washing a few more pots and cooking utensils from the night.

“I… don’t know,” you answered honestly. “I mean, that all kind of changes when you become a vampire, right? Like, your taste preferences. There’s not a lot of people drinking blood before they turn into vampires, at least.”

“Fewer, for sure.”

“Yeah, I uh, I don’t know, Yang. Would you? Can witches even become vampires?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he sighed wistfully, then turned giddy, “But wouldn’t that be badass? A witch vampire? Vampire witch? God, that’d be so cool!”

“Why can’t witches become vampires? I know you guys aren’t technically humans, but… like, do you know what makes it not work?”

“There’s a lot of theories. As a witch, I’m of course inclined to believe that nature favors balance. A being can only be one kind of magic thing. Humans aren’t magic, but once you guys become something magic, same rule applies to you, no double-dipping, no getting greedy.”

“Seems like a pretty good theory to me.”

Yangyang nodded towards the living room then, “You think it’s been enough time for them to bond over CPU specs or whatever?”

“Probably?” You said. “I’m just glad dinner went as smooth as it did. I hope I wasn’t pushing it with putting them alone in a room together.”

“We haven’t heard shouting or the sound of Kunhang’s neck snapping yet, so that’s a good sign.”

You gave him an unamused look. “You’re truly an optimist.”

“It would totally be self-defense on Kun’s part.”

“Still not helping.”

“Anyway, I’ve got to pee, so—” He pointed down the hall to the guest bathroom, and you nodded with a small smile at your friend’s familiar bluntness.

“Don’t drown in there, Yang.”

He stuck his tongue out at you before disappearing from your sight.

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves to enter the living room yourself. Coming around the corner, you saw Kun and Kunhang sitting on the main couch together, on opposite ends. Their body language looked relaxed, conversational, and a relieved, genuine smile came to your face as you looked over the two of them.

“Uh-oh, what’s this? The Annual Bad Joke Conference?” You teased, making your way over to perch yourself on the arm of the couch next to Kun, resting an arm on his shoulders. He wrapped his own around your waist, settling his hand on your hip.

“Yes, and now that our keynote speaker is here, we can begin,” Kunhang ribbed you right back.

“Oof.” You clutched at your chest like you’d been stabbed. “I’ve been wounded.”

“I was actually asking Kun about his grad program he’s looking at,” your friend explained, gesturing to your boyfriend.

Kun nodded heartily. “Yes, I was detailing my current predicament about with it being only a one-year master’s, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to work right after or look into finding another one-year master’s to complete since your master’s program will be two years long.”

“Oh, don’t fucking remind me that May isn’t the end right now,” you groaned, dropping your forehead onto the top of Kun’s head.

“Right. My apologies, my love.” He rubbed your back comfortingly.

“Hey, Kun?” Yangyang’s voice floated into the room then, and you picked your head back up to see him walking in.

“Yes, Yangyang?”

“Uh, I really hate to do this, but I kind of accidentally mentioned I was coming over when I was visiting my coven today, and my Grandma asked me to ask you for something?”

“No more blood. I told you, after the love potion, you and your whole coven simply must get your vampire blood from somewhere else.”

“Yeah, I know. And they know. Trust me, I’m never living that one down at sacraments. Uh, no, Grandma told me to ask you for a book back? She said it’s red, about the size of your hand, gold on the edges of the pages?”

“Did she tell you what it’s called?”

“She said you’d know what it was?”

“What… oh.”

You frowned at the concerned look on Kun’s face. “What? What is it?”

“It’s a cursed book of fairytales. I don’t know how Yangyang’s grandmother had acquired it in the first place, but it was wreaking havoc on the coven some years ago. Lures in any children nearby, they couldn’t risk even having it there in a spellbox. She gave it to me for safekeeping,” he explained, looking over to the witch. “Why does she want it back?”

“No clue. Better not to ask questions with her.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Well, it should definitely be around here… somewhere.” Kun stood up with a sigh, looking around the living room. “If not in here, then probably the library, or the bedroom… or the guest room… or the attic. I definitely still have it, I kept it when I moved in here, I know that much.”

Yangyang gave him a skeptical look. “I’ll help you look.”

“Thanks. I don’t feel anything in here, we should start in the library.” The vampire nodded towards the other room. “Alright now, Yangyang, if you think you’ve found it, don’t touch it, you’ll reactivate the curse.”

“I know how curses work! Witch, remember?”

“Witch who puts his potions in Gorgonade bottles! Remember?”

As the two of them headed off, still bickering, you and Kunhang just looked at each other, bursting into giggles at the same time.

“He’s totally going to forget and touch it if it finds it.” You shook your head, sliding down onto the main couch cushions.

“Yeah, he’d be all ‘Look, Kun, I found it!’” Kunhang zealously imitated his roommate yanking a book off a shelf. “And then bam, get cursed like an idiot.”

“I hope that thing’s in the attic. I don’t want to think that I could’ve been almost accidentally cursing myself this whole time.”

“Yikes. Better have Yangyang ask his grandma if Kun is hanging onto anything else for her.”

“Why do you think she wants it back?”

“You never know with Grandma Liu.”

You nodded, silent as you pondered this for a moment, having never met anybody from Yangyang’s coven, much less his grandmother, the matriarch of it. Kunhang left the silence alone for a while before he finally spoke again.

“Okay, fine. He’s not so bad,” he admitted with a half-hearted eyeroll.

“What finally did it?” You asked curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, what was it? What finally convinced you?”

“He’s a pretty good cook.”

“Your stomach, of course.”

“Hey—”

“Look, I’m just glad this is all resolved now,” you grinned, scooting closer to him to wrap an arm around him.

Your friend threw an arm and a wing over your shoulders, pulling you in closer. “Yeah, me too. You deserve something so… good. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Kunhang.” You rubbed his back. “Seriously, for everything.”

Later that night, after you and Kun had seen Yangyang and Kunhang off at the front door with the cursed book in a DIY magic biohazard disposal container consisting of several garbage bags, glass tupperwares, and gloves for the witch to wear while he carried it, then finished tidying up the kitchen. Now you two were sat on the couch, quietly absorbed in your own activities as music streamed from his record player. It was some obscure, limited press record that Kun had picked up on a whim at one of the band’s shows decades ago now; a Google search for the album or band name didn’t even turn up any results. You were reclined in a half-laying position reading by the light of a lamp, intent on finishing all of The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes, while Kun was tinkering with the settings of a new camera he had bought the other day. How well he could calibrate it in his darkened living room, you didn’t know, but you were content to let him fiddle with it in peace so long as he let you keep your legs in his lap.

You were faintly aware of him occasionally taking pictures of the objects around the room, and of you, and lifted the book even high to cover more of your face.

“Kun...” You said his name with a hint of warning, not taking your eyes off your page.

“What?” Another shutter click.

“You have to have a million photos of me by now.”

“Maybe I want a million and one.” Another click. “Okay, maybe a million and two.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued reading, and Kun pointed the lens elsewhere to test the flash. As you came to a good stopping point at the end of one of the short stories, you laid the attached ribbon bookmark in between the pages and shut the book. You watched Kun fuss with the settings for a few moments, amused and endeared as he would sometimes point the lens and make an adjustment without even taking a picture, and sometimes take several photos, look at them, then change something.

“So, what were you and Kunhang talking about?” You asked him as nonchalantly as possible.

He snapped around to look at you. “Hm?”

“I’ve known that man my whole life. I know when he’s bullshitting me,” you informed him, not a hint of anger or malice in your tone. “Very kind of you to go along with it in the moment, by the way.”

“I’m sorry, he stressed that he really didn’t want you to know,” Kun apologized sincerely, setting his camera down on the coffee table.

“What did he tell you? If it was about the first time I went flying, I didn’t throw up everywhere, and really he was the one who—”

“He wanted to ask me something, and you really must tell me this story at a later time.”

“Oh.” You looked around awkwardly. “What did he ask you?”

He focused his red eyes on you, a much more serious air descending on the conversation and his tone. “If I was going to turn you, or if I ever would.”

“Oh God, Kun, I’m sorry.” You shot up into a proper sitting position. “We don’t even live together, he shouldn’t have been asking you if we’ve talked about eternity. As if that’s even his business in the first place anyway.”

“He seemed very concerned about your view on mortality since your brother’s passing,” your boyfriend explained with what you knew were his carefully chosen words. No way Kunhang had that kind of tact.

“He thinks I’m dating a vampire to cope with my brother dying. Great armchair psychology.”

“I don’t think that. I remember when you said that you’re okay with not being here forever. When we went to the video gallery during the love potion incident.”

“Look, I can’t lie and say that it doesn’t bring me comfort to know that you’re not going to get hit by a bus tomorrow and die, or get cancer, or some other horrible illness and die a slow painful death while all I can do is watch. Like that’s… definitely a plus.” You admitted with a chuckle, taking one of Kun’s hands in both of yours. “But that’s not why I’m dating you. And I’m definitely not dating you in hopes that one day you’ll turn me. Like I said, we don’t even live together— eternity, or lack thereof, is not a conversation to be had yet.”

Kun nodded, brushing his thumb over the backs of your fingers. “I believe that’s a fair assessment. I’m of course content to take this at whatever pace you want, Y/N. I’m just glad to have the honor of being in your life, for however long that may be.”

“So what did you tell Kunhang? Because he seemed awfully happy with himself after you two talked.”

He paused, looking down at your entwined hands, then back up at you. “Do you remember how I was turned?”

“You broke your leg and the broken bone nicked an artery. Your friend turned you to save your life because you were bleeding out,” you summarized the gist of the full story, which you’d finally heard some time after you’d started dating.

“I told him I’d never take the choice from you. He seemed to like that answer.”

You let out a small sigh of relief. Honestly, you had half expected Kunhang to flip out at any possibility of Kun being willing to turn you. Seems like he really had listened to you this afternoon.

You pressed a kiss to Kun’s cheek. “Thank you, Kun. I like that answer, too. But again, I am so sorry he put you on the spot like that.”

“Y/N…” Kun murmured, bringing his free hand to gently caress your face. “I know I just said that I’m content to take this at whatever pace you’re comfortable with. And that is true. But I want you to know… that after so long, I know what I want, and because of that it was so easy to fall in love with you. So I’m ready for whatever you’re ready for, whenever you’re ready. You want to move in together? Okay. You want to get three cats? Okay. You want to talk about forever? That will have to be more conversations than the cats, but sure, we can talk about it, talk about a plan.”

“Kun…” You breathed his name out, tightening your hold on his hand in hopes that could convey even a fraction of all the tongue-tied words you couldn’t figure out how to say in that moment.

“I’m sorry, that was too much.” He shook his head at himself.

“No, no. It wasn’t,” you reassured him. “But, I’m not ready to talk about forever right now… I-I don’t even have my bachelor’s yet.”

“That’s okay. Like I said, I want whatever pace you want. I just want you, for however long that’ll be.” He brought your hands up to leave a feather-light kiss on your fingers.

“But the fact that you would be ready to talk about forever…” You let go of his hand entirely to loop your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to press your lips to his. His hands easily settled on your waist and lower back as you felt him melt into the kiss.

When you finally needed air—as Kun could theoretically go on for eternity—you then rested your forehead against his. “I love you, a lot, Kun. I do know that.”

“I love you, too.” Kun ran his fingertips up and down your back. “And know that I really do mean a plan for before forever. You wouldn’t say the word and I’d turn you the next second or anything hasty like that. But, you said you’re not ready to talk about it, so I will shut up now.”

You smiled to yourself at his almost nervous clarification, as if he were worried that he’d scare you off. It was endearing, to get glimpses like this where even his hundreds of years of living hadn’t prepared him for whatever was happening, and his usually calm, smooth words failed him even just for a moment. You pressed a long kiss to his temple.

After a beat, you pulled back enough to see all of his face. “Then, maybe let’s start with moving in?”

“Really?” He grinned, dimples appearing on both cheeks.

“Yeah… I’m already over here so much my apartment is practically just a really expensive storage unit at this point.”

“I’ll have to make room… for… your things…” He looked around his rather maximalist living room as if taking in just how much stuff he had for the first time.

“I need to downsize anyway.” You tried to reassure him casually.

“No, I’ll make room.”

At the anxiety growing on his face, you started rubbing his arm reassuringly. “We’ve got a few months to figure it out, don’t worry.”

“Maybe we can get a new house,” he mused aloud, then turned to you with a hopeful look. “A three bedroom?”

“Who will those other two bedrooms be for?”

“…Guests.”

“And your knickknacks.”

“Well—”

“No, wait, I like this idea. Our bedroom, a guest room, and one can be an office-slash-knickknack room.” You counted the three rooms off on your fingers. “Your producing desk can go in there so you can have some more privacy for all your secret projects.”

“Yes, it will be harder to hide them once we live together. Oh no, you’ve caught me,” he gave his ‘confession’ monotonously, earning a laugh from you. Kun gazed at you fondly, softness coming back to his features as he added, “I actually wanted to show you the one I was working on this morning.”

“You finished it?”

“Things are never finished with me, especially since I live forever, but if I listen to it anymore I think I’m going to cut my ears off, so yeah.”

“A ringing endorsement. I’m excited.”

So you two migrated over to his producing desk, where he insistently pulled you onto his lap instead of letting you bring your own chair to watch as he opened the project he had so hastily exited out of this morning. You indulged yourself and ran your fingers through Kun’s hair, brushing a couple stray pieces back from his face.

He looked up from the screen to you, his brows that were furrowed with concentration now quirking up in confusion. “Hm?”

“Nothing. You just look hot like this, all focused on your task. Has nobody told you that before?”

“I can’t say anybody has, no.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You lie to me, Qian Kun. All these years, not one person has told you? I don’t believe that.”

“I went through a brief stint as a bit of a hermit… didn’t have many visitors. Definitely not ones that hung around my home much as you do and got to just observe me performing various tasks.”

“Hm. Fine.” You grabbed his chin to connect your lips with his.

He hummed contentedly against your mouth, entirely unconcerned that his original goal had been sidetracked. You parted your lips to deepen the kiss as you felt one of his hands land on your hip, abandoning where it had previously been on either the keyboard or mouse.

When you finally pulled back, you had a well-kissed Qian Kun in front of you. He looked up at you with slightly glazed-over eyes, a winded smirk on his face as he asked, “And what was that for?”

“Like I said, you look hot like this. Another good reason for us to tuck your producing desk away when we live together. You’d never get any work done if you were just out in the open.”

“Maybe we should downsize, actually. A one bedroom? Studio?”

“Mm, weren’t you going to show me something?” You asked innocently, one finger tapping his cheek.

“Was I?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” you played along with a giggle, letting go of his face to mess with the collar of his shirt.

“You’re awful sometimes, you know?” He shook his head and laughed, returning his focus to the computer screens, as did you. After a couple more clicks, he had an audio file pulled up. “Ready?”

You settled in so that you were actually facing the screen, one arm around his shoulders. “Ready.”

Kun pressed play on it, and soon a euphonious melody was playing through the speakers. It was a full arrangement with strings, piano, drums, and even a couple sung verses that you easily recognized as Kun’s voice. You’d heard him hum while cooking, or sing along to the old radio and vinyl player in his home, but never a proper performance like this. The song was less than a couple minutes, but it was gorgeous, and you could feel a wide, delighted smile on your features as you listened.

“Kun…” You breathed out in awe once it was over, turning to look at your boyfriend. “That was so beautiful. You… have such a beautiful mind. Thank you for showing me that. I… I just…”

You were at a loss for words, getting too choked up on your thoughts as you gazed down at him. Hesitantly stroking your thumb over his cheekbone, for a moment you almost couldn’t believe he was real, that he was so miraculous, and was right here, with you.

Kun gently took your hand from his face and held it in his, kissing the back of your knuckles tenderly before resting it on his chest. “I love you, Y/N. So much. Do you want to listen to it again?”

You nodded quickly, resting your head in the crook of his neck and closing your eyes. First, the click of the mouse, then the gorgeous work of art that Kun had composed for you played once more. You pressed a kiss against whatever skin of his neck was closest to your mouth.

“I love you, Kun,” you murmured, squeezing his hand that was still holding yours. “I love you so much. More than whatever eternity we’ll have together, big or small, I’ll love you for even longer than that.”

The song ended, and he played it again before wrapping his other arm around you tightly. The two of you listened to it quietly, the only other sounds that of your breathing. And as it neared the end, it looped back to the beginning all on its own, without Kun having to let go of you.

⤷ blog masterlist ⤷ anthology masterlist

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bitchwhoreofastorm · 7 months

Text

Jurgen was enjoying a peaceful morning of deep contemplation in his chambers when the sound of a fierce argument arose just outside of his door. Long experience with his compatriots gave him the wisdom to arise and begin to drag his desk in obstruction of the entrance, but alas, he was too slow; the wooden door was thrown open with a violent clatter, and the incarnate of fury roiled into the room.

"I've had enough of her!" bellowed Hoag. The dark, diminutive man was practically frothing at the mouth, frenziedly waving about something Jurgen couldn't quite see. "Enough of her, Wind-Caller, she ought to be stopped! She ought to-- she ought to be put down like a dog!"

"You're over-reacting!" Barfok shouted from further down the passageway.

Jurgen briefly contemplated whether he could push Hoag back down the stairs, but in that moment of hesitation, Hoag had already forced his way past the desk that had meant to keep him out, penetrating Jurgen's previously-serene sanctum. "Deal with her, Wind-Caller!" Hoag spat, "Deal with her or I'll-- I'll--"

"My King," Jurgen interrupted him, pinching his own nose. "Let's all calm down for a moment. What has she done now?"

"I'll tell you what she's done!" Hoag shouted. "She's gone and anthropomorphized my lunch!" And he thrust his hands towards Jurgen.

The object in Hoag's hands was a haunch of roast ox, but it held itself with a dignity that surpassed its humble origin. In the light glinting from its marinated surface it surveyed the room with calm acceptance, observing its crude surroundings with the plain-hearted absence of judgement that set all of Skyrim's peasants apart from their supposed betters. It remained steady as Hoag waved it at Jurgen, unperturbed, as if thinking: 'And you are the so-called leaders of this Empire? You are the men I should call Lord?'

"He's over-reacting!" Barfok had finally appeared in the doorway, panting from the long climb, her pale hair disheveled and falling out of its braids. "It's a joke," she protested to Jurgen, "A silly joke, a prank, that's all!"

"A joke!" roared Hoag, pivoting around. "You bitch, it's a guilt-evoking metaphor for the lowest of my subjects! How am I supposed to eat it now!"

"If you get queasy when your lunch alludes to the petty-folk you send out to die into battle, well, that says more about you than it does about my pranks, doesn't it!"

The ox haunch regarded this argument with bemusement. As did Jurgen.

"She's been at this all day," said Hoag through gritted teeth, returning his attention to Jurgen. "She went and messed with Chemua's soup--"

"Oh that was funny," Barfok guffawed.

"-- Turned it into a complex metaphor for shame. Put him in the foulest mood. And now she goes and ruins my lunch! You've got to make her quit it, Jurgen. Morale's bad enough out there without her turning things into allusions and euphemisms and such!"

Jurgen exhaled through his nose. "Barfok," he said patiently, "Stop turning people's food into literary devices."

"Hey!" Now it was Barfok's turn to push her way into the room, crossing her arms defensively in front of her chest. "Don't you take his side because he's a wimp! It's a joke, Jurgen, a silly little goof-about to make the men laugh. He's the only one who's got a problem with it!"

"Yes, well, he's louder and more irritating. We don't stop a baby bawling because the baby's in the right."

"I'm no babe!" Hoag interjected. "I'm your King even now, Wind-Caller!"

Does this man deserve fealty? the roast ox seemed to say, when Jurgen's gaze fell upon it. He closed his eyes briefly.

"Barfok," said Jurgen, "Please, just-- stop."

A shadow fell over Barfok's usually-jolly face. She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin at Jurgen, staring at him coolly from over her round cheeks. "Why should I?" she said slowly.

"I'm begging you, Sister in Kyne! Do me a favour and keep the peace?"

"Aye, you hear him? Keep the peace!" Hoag directed his wrath once more at Barfok. "You're toeing the treason line, sabotaging us like that! We're getting our arses beat by the elves and you think it cheers anyone up when their saltrice is a biting allusion to the evils of occupation? Get a grip, woman!"

"Stop yelling at me!" Barfok snapped. "I don't take orders from either of you! Nay, not even you, Wind-Passer! And I ent standing here while a couple old nannies squeal at me to mind my manners! Look, Hoaga, even your ox thinks you're pathetic!"

The ox haunch did, indeed, seem to have taken on a scornful air. It had borne witness to the discourse of Nirn's most powerful men, and it had come away disenchanted with both the airs of power and those that bore it. Its scathing observation was enough to bring them to shame.

"Hoag," Jurgen said tersely, "She has a point. I can't control her. Why not go to Ysmir about her?"

The hue of Hoag's face had deepened to a striking crimson. "Because he agrees with her," he said through gritted teeth.

"Ysmir has a sense of humour," Barfok said with pride.

"He encourages her tomfoolery!"

"I framed his chambers with subtle imagery of a forsaken homeland, and you know what? He liked it."

"Traitors and soul-sick fools, both of you!"

"Well," announced Jurgen, as calm as a man being judged by a haunch of meat could possibly be, "That settles it. You just have to let her do as she pleases."

Hoag's face flushed, somehow, even redder. "Let her!" he roared indignantly. "Let her lose this war with japes!"

"And what can you do about it?" Barfok asked smugly. "I'm the stronger Tongue."

"We can't command her, Hoaga," said Jurgen. "So. You'll just have to live with it."

"Damn you! You're meant to be the peace-making one! Can't you negotiate with her?"

"Oh, keep whinging, Hoaga, I'll turn your trousers paradoxical next!"

"The matter is settled," said Jurgen firmly. "Now, both of you, get out of my chambers."

"To Apocrypha with you, Wind-Caller! You know what?" Hoag turned his attention to Barfok, waving his accusing haunch in Jurgen's direction. "Why don't you mess with him this time? Hey? Why don't you, I don't know, fill his desk with symbolism or something!"

"Why, Hoaga, you know I'd do anything you ask!" Barfok said cheerfully.

Jurgen blinked. "Wait--"

He had barely begun to inhale for a counter-thu'um before Barfok sung out three crisp dovahzul words. Nothing happened, but everything was subtly, slightly different, as if they had just slipped from one dream to another-- disconcerting non-transition.

Jurgen blinked again. "Barfok," he said slowly, "What did you just--"

"Oh, would you look at the time, Hoaga!" Barfok butted in. "I'm late for my lunch! Good talk, Jurgen, dremyollock, make sure to shut your windows!" And before Jurgen could intercept her she had lurched out of the door and was rushing down the stairs, leaving behind only the receding sound of triumphant cackling.

Hoag looked from the doorway, to Jurgen, and then, finally, to the large window that dominated one side of the room. He drew in a breath. "Now that's just grim," he muttered, before taking a morose bite of his ox haunch. And, without further explanation or farewell, he turned and followed Barfok out of the room, leaving Jurgen in much-desired solitude.

For several seconds Jurgen stood facing the doorway. He pressed his fingertips to his temples. He contemplated whether he had the courage to turn around.

Finally, he turned to face the window.

The curtains hung limp against the pane, like the sails of a ship bereft of air, betraying a stagnation, a stranding, a loss of all will to go on. Though the window was open, no breeze stirred them, as if Kyne herself had abandoned the sorry scraps of fabric. Against the backdrop of the clear sky outside, the faded blue of them was outright depressing...

#barfok with the powers of event denouement etc #fic

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ichorai · 1 year

Text

hatred ; lloyd hansen. (m)

pairing ; lloyd hansen x mission partner!reader (afab / gn pronouns)

synopsis ; you wanted lloyd hansen. but god, did you hate him.

words ; 2.1k

themes ; smut </3 literally nothing else i hate myself

warnings / includes ; lots of swearing, hate sex, lloyd being mean and awful and violent, lloyd getting off on pain, mentions of fighting/death/murder/guns/injury, lloyd calls you a plethora of pet names, overstim and creampie, biting/scratching/hair-pulling, a tiny bit of dacryphilia and begging

main masterlist.

The silk sheets crumpled beneath your grip as you tightened your fists around the fabric, a low hiss spilling from your lips. You leaned back gingerly and tugged your shirt off with a groan, prodding the tender bruise on your side, grimacing at the blotchy, dark purple hue. The blurry memory of CIA’s top asset—Six, was what he was known as—roundhouse-kicking you into oblivion flashed into your mind, and you pushed it away just as quickly as it came.

“Knockity knock, sweet cheeks,” your wretched mission partner, Lloyd, announced as he swung the door to your room open, ironically not bothering to knock at all. He strode in with a stupid grin etched across his features, kicking the door shut with the back of his heel.

You scowled. “Get out, Lloyd.”

The way his eyes slowly slid down your body didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Not gonna do that, honey,” he quipped condescendingly, gaze trained on your chest, much to your dismay. “See, we had one goddamn mission to finish tonight—and you blew it. You should be fucking glad you don’t have a bullet in your head right now.”

Abruptly, you swept yourself off the bed and onto your feet, drawing yourself to your full height. “You think I don’t know that? Maybe if your pea-sized brain could remember to radio your location, then I wouldn’t have dropped the bomb. How about you jump down from that skyscraper ego of yours for a second and consider that we both fucked up?”

Lloyd stalked forward a couple paces until he was practically nose-to-nose with you. He was practically bristling, lips curled into a snarl and eyebrows knitted together.

“I wish I never had to work with you,” he spat. “You’re a famous li’l bastard, you know that? Everyone you’ve worked with is now six feet under—and now I can see why.”

Before you could steel yourself, your palm came striking down his cheek, the slap ricocheting loudly across the room. His head pivoted to the side and his mouth dropped open, partly in disbelief, and partly from growing fury. Growing… arousal. The skin beneath where you had hit him immediately grew an angry shade of red, and he slowly turned to look back at you, eyes narrowed.

“I hate you,” you said, so close to him that his chest brushed against yours.

Your eyes darted to his lips.

He noticed.

“The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” Lloyd husked out.

And with that, he kissed you.

There was not an ounce of affection in the exchange, all tongue and teeth, growls and grunts, bites and scratches. One of your hands pressed flush against his chest, bunching his ridiculously tight shirt into your fist, while the other snaked around his neck to yank at his short-cropped hair mercilessly. Lloyd seemed to like the pain, groaning into your mouth before kissing you harder, forehead knocking into yours. He shoved you with no care whatsoever, maneuvering you until your back slammed against the wall.

A strained, involuntary noise of pleasure fell from your lungs as he shoved his knee between your legs, the hard muscle pressed right against your sex—practically dripping with need.

“Look at you,” he purred, pulling away for a second to slot his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head up with a teasing smile. “You need something, sunshine?”

Before you could answer, he jolted his leg up, hitting your clit in just the right place. A strike of pleasure curled within your abdomen and you stifled a moan by biting down on your tongue, shoving a fist against his shoulder in a fruitless attempt to punch him.

“Aw,” Lloyd cooed, “that’s not very nice.”

He was man-handling you again—this time, tossing you onto the bed as if you were a ragdoll. His hands clamped around your ankles, dragging you down the sheets until your ass was right at the edge of the mattress.

His shirt was discarded somewhere to the side of the room, and whilst he began working on ridding himself of his belt, he looked down at you, sprawled out over the bed and chest heaving and lips kiss-swollen—fuck, his cock throbbed painfully just looking at you. With hooded eyes, you arched your back slightly to rip off the rest of your clothes, core pulsating with intense want.

You wanted Lloyd Hansen.

But God, did you hate him.

Him and his stupid pet names for you. Him and his carelessness—his unbridled anger. Him and that horrible pornstache that he sported.

You hated every bit of him.

As soon as his pants were off, you yanked him down, kissing him with wild abandon. Your nails scratched down his chest, leaving angry crimson marks in its wake. To your amusement, Lloyd only growled at that, moving away from your lips to lick a hot line down the curve of your jaw, and biting into your neck—hard enough to the point where you had to slap his shoulders with a hiss. He drew back with a smirk, a hard glint to his deep blue eyes, before dipping back down to press kisses into your collarbones. His hands gripped your hips, rocking you back and forth against his tented boxers.

When he got to your breasts, biting into your warm flesh with a low, chesty hum, you slipped your hand down his chest, and snuck your fingers into his boxers, wrapping them around his thick girth, pumping slowly.

He groaned loudly, spitting out a long string of curses and grabbing your wrist, shoving your hand away with a pointed glare.

Before you could register much else, his boxers were off and his dick was bouncing against his toned abdomen. You gulped audibly, inching away from him as you suddenly realized what you were doing—or, more accurately, who you were doing. A shiver spidered up your spine and you watched him with wide, cautious eyes.

“Nuh uh, honey,” he whispered scathingly, yanking you back to him and easily flipping you onto your stomach, despite your half-assed struggling. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He roped you back up until your back was flush against his chest, one hand wrapping around your throat and the other pinching one of your pebbled nipples, before crawling further down to your sopping cunt.

“Oh, sweetie,” he crooned into your ear as his fingers ran through your slickened folds, hot breath fanning out over your neck. “All for me? Fuckin’ slut.”

Without warning, three of his fingers suddenly thrust into your pussy, and a loud groan left you as you struggled in his grasp, simultaneously trying to push him away and draw him closer. His thumb pressed against your clit and you lost all control, hands reaching behind you to claw at his neck and his scalp.

“Beg for it,” he whispered, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Beg for me.”

As you squirmed, you managed to find a single thread of self-preservation within you. “Fuck you.”

Lloyd bit into your shoulder, as if warning you. “I won’t ask again, baby.”

When his thumb softly drew a circle around your clit, you could feel yourself giving in, melting into putty in his arms.

A litany of pleads fell from you, and you hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t stop. You needed him.

“Please, Lloyd, please—” A gasp cut off your words when he flicked your clit, dripping fingers drawing out ever so slightly before shoving themselves right back in. “Please fuck me. Please, I’ll do anything, Lloyd, I… please—oh—”

Seemingly satisfied enough, Lloyd began pumping his fingers into you rapidly, your wanton moans only fueling him further. Memory fuzzy with pleasure, you hadn’t even realized when your head lolled back onto his shoulder, his lips meeting yours in a frenzy as he fingered you.

Your first orgasm came crashing down onto you like a tidal wave against shore, and you shook violently in his muscular arms, jerking away from his fingers desperately as the beginnings of overstimulation began creeping into you. He only stopped his movements when you roughly bit into his lip mid-kiss, hard enough to break the skin and draw blood.

“Fuck!” he growled, glaring at you with genuine anger, tongue sweeping over the cut, copper hitting the back of his throat. His cock twitched, growing impossibly harder, and he ripped his fingers out of you. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

His fingers, creamy with your arousal, were suddenly shoved into your mouth and he watched with hungry eyes as your tongue swiped across the digits, taking them in deeper until you gagged. He bit back another groan.

“You’re such a whore,” he murmured into your ear, slipping his fingers out of your mouth, biting your lobe roughly. “My fuckin’ whore.”

A silent scream left your mouth hanging open when he swiftly sank you down onto his cock, so thick that you could feel him throbbing inside you, feel every veiny inch of him as he bottomed out, one hand gripping your thigh and pulling your legs further apart so he’d sink deeper into you, and the other pawing wildly at your breasts.

He cursed as you clenched around him, hoarsely moaning out his name.

“Say it again,” he whispered, pulling out halfway before sinking back into you. “Say my name again, honey.”

“I hate you,” you practically sobbed as he began thrusting into you in a near feral manner. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

This seemed to rile him up further, and the hand that was once at your breast found its way back to your throat, squeezing tight until black spots danced around your vision. Lightheaded, you let out a pornographic moan, hands scratching down his thighs framing yours.

His hand inched higher up your own thigh, and he flicked over your clit as his dick pounded into you.

“FUCK!” you yelled, reaching back to pull at his hair. Almost without realizing, you came around him for the second time, twitching in his hold. Overstimulated, you croaked out, “Lloyd—stop. Fuck, stop—”

Lloyd merely chuckled against your sweaty neck, only spreading your legs further apart and driving his dick into you harder. “Take it, baby. Fuckin’ take it. I know you like this—you’re soaking me, honey.”

A moan twisted out of your dry throat. As overstimulated as you were, his words were only turning you on more. The filthy sounds of his hips snapping into yours made your head spin.

“I hate you,” you sobbed again, knowing this would only drive him on, and you crumpled back into him, letting him use you like a sex doll.

A stray tear slipped down your cheek and his hand left your throat to grab at your jaw. “Aw, are you crying, sweetheart? Fuck, that’s fucking hot as fuck.”

Panting, you rocked back against him, eyebrows drawing together as your third—and hopefully last—climax rolled over you. This time, you stiffened against him as more fat tears rolled down your cheeks, clenching around him so hard he shouted out a creative line of swears before shifting into a different angle to hammer into you harder.

His dick twitched inside you—he was close.

“Fuck,” you muttered, slapping his sweaty shoulder, panicked. “Don’t you dare cum inside, Lloyd, oh—” You broke off into a groan and he swooped down to capture your lips in one last messy kiss, nose slotting roughly against yours.

He grunted into your mouth, forehead resting over yours as his seed painted your insides, much to your frustration. Much softer this time, he slowly pushed his softening dick in and out of your abused cunt, nearly laughing when you started slapping him again.

“Fuck you. I fucking hate you,” you spat. He shut you up by enveloping your parted lips with his—you could taste the blood in his mouth.

Eventually, he slipped out of you, peering down with a satisfied hum to see his cum spill out of your puffy folds.

“I hate you,” you whispered one last time, throat scratchy with thirst.

He patted your ass with a sickeningly condescending smile. “The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” he replied, an echo of what he said before. “Though—I don’t need to like someone to fuck them. Who knows… maybe I’ll even come back for sloppy seconds.”

With that, he unceremoniously let go of you, making you face-plant into the pillows. You twisted with a hateful snarl just in time to watch him stride out of your room stark naked, whistling a merry tune as if he hadn’t just fucked your brains out, not even bothering to pick up his clothes strewn across your floor.

Pompous, arrogant, motherfucker.

You really fuckin’ hated him.

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen fanfiction #the gray man fanfiction #lloyd hansen drabbles #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen imagines #lloyd hansen angst #the gray man fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans x you

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kristeristerin · 1 year

Note

Taylor Swift ‘Mine’ with Eris Vanserra pls?

AN: Thank you for the prompt! This is one I might actually save and expand into something longer one day! I love the idea of them slowly falling in love <3

I hope you like it!

As always asks are open for prompts!

Song: Mine

Pairing: Reader X Eris

Content Warning: None

Words: 641

You’d never been more grateful to have a secluded cottage outside of town than you were at that moment. “Fine Eris,” you screamed behind you as you stormed out, “If this is how it is to be then I never want to see you again!” When the door slammed you took a moment to catch your breath, before pivoting and stomping your way into the dark forest.

The tears started the moment you sat in the soft grass beside the river, and soon you found your body wracked with sobs. You couldn’t believe that you had trusted him. You had made such a large place for Eris in your home, in your heart, that you knew your life would never be the same without him.

Things had started rocky between you and the Autumn Court heir nearly a year ago. You had been working in a small cafe in town when he stopped for lunch. You had thought him stuck up and insufferable, and he thought you to be nothing more than a simpering commonfolk. It wasn’t until he’d attended the festival in your village that the two of you had seen how wrong your initial assumptions had been.

The relationship had begun purely physically for both of you. You had been looking for a distraction from village life, and he had been looking for somewhere he could relax and be more than the High Lord’s son for a little while. Though you could pinpoint the exact moment you began to truly feel more for him. You had been sitting in the exact spot you are now and he had held you while you both opened up.

That night you had both spoken about your childhoods and your dreams. You had begun to fall for him then. Perhaps that’s why it hurt so much when he showed up tonight and started talking about an engagement. It was at that moment that you realized he is it for you. You're in love with Eris Vanserra.

It’s only a few minutes later when you hear boots coming through the underbrush. He quietly sits down beside you and pulls you into him.

“I thought I told you to leave?” You weakly mumble.

He chuckles softly beside you, “I’ve never been particularly good at following directions, Love.”

The term of endearment causes a new round of tears, and you tremble in an attempt to hold back your sobs. His grip on you tightens and he begins to rub lazy circles on your back.

“Shhh,” he leans his forehead against the side of your head, “It’s ok baby. I am here, I will always be here. I don’t care what my father says. I am not marrying anyone else. I will come up with a plan, I swear it. I love you.”

In an instant, you go quiet, and you pull away to look him in the eyes. Your voice is hoarse when you ask, “What did you say?”

His eyes are wide as if he couldn’t believe the words that had come out of his mouth, but a moment later he grins at you. “I believe I just said that I love you, Y/N. You know, I’ve known for a while now.” He shakes his head, “Meeting you did something to me. You made me want to be the best version of myself so maybe I could deserve just a fraction of what you were willing to give me. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and it scares me. But I am much too selfish to stay away.”

Your bottom lip quivers as you look into his eyes. For the first time, you have hope for a real future for the two of you. “Then don’t stay away, Eris. We will figure it all out eventually. I love you too.”

#acotar x reader #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris x you

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nalgenewhore · 1 year

Text

hound dog

elide x lorcan, modern au/established relationship, light angst & fluff, word count: 5790

Aelin’s eyes swivelled from side to side as she watched her friend pace across her bathroom.

Three steps, pivot. Three steps, pivot. Three steps, pivot.

She glanced at her phone and sucked on her bottom lip.

Neither one of them had spoken since the timer had started, and the silence was killing Aelin.

“It’s going to be ok, you know?” she blurted out, unable to contain herself. She needed to say something.

Aelin quickly regretted ever opening her mouth when Elide stopped – froze, more like – and slowly turned around like a haunted doll.

Her glare could have set fire to Hellas’ cold, cold realm. “No,” Elide said evenly, too even, “I don’t know, Aelin.” Aelin winced. “How could you even say that right now?” She flung her hand towards the sink counter. “Look at what’s happening!” On a wad of toilet paper, three-freshly taken pregnancy tests awaited. Elide’s hands shook, and she dragged them through her hair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Aelin stood up from her perch on the lip of the tub. She stood in front of her friend and gently rubbed her arms up and down. “Honey, I know that no matter what, you have me, and you have Lorcan.”

Scoffing, Elide muttered, “Yeah, right. He’s going to freak out.”

Tears welled in her eyes, quickly threatening to spill down her cheeks. Her boyfriend had already discussed his aversion to kids – they both had. Neither one of them knew the first thing about being a good parent, and they had their childhoods to thank for that. Hellas, Elide barely felt like she knew how to take care of herself now, much less a baby.

As she opened her mouth to say just that, the timer on Aelin’s phone went off. Elide felt the blood drain from her body, and she swayed.

“Woah, careful,” Aelin caught her and gently helped Elide to sit on the closed toilet. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ears. “Alright,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “El, what do you want to do?”

Call Lorcan. Tell him to come home. Tell him to fix this. Elide closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Tell me what they say?”

Aelin carefully picked up the first test, then retook her seat on the tub. She took a deep breath of her own. “Are you ready?”

Elide held her hand out to Aelin. Her friend clutched it tightly, squeezing supportively. “I’m ready.” She held her breath as Aelin turned over the first test.

“It’s positive.”

Her face crumpled, and Elide breathed out tearfully. “Next.”

Aelin picked it up. “Positive.”

She started to cry then, pressing her free hand to her mouth. Elide already knew what the third one would say. Maybe she could have hoped that the first was a false positive, if the second was negative, but Elide wasn’t stupid. She couldn’t fool herself.

“The third, it’s—”

Elide shook her head, “You don’t– please.”

“Oh, honey,” Aelin tutted her tongue, instantly wrapping her arms around Elide. She rubbed Elide’s back, trying to calm her, even though she knew anything she told Elide would fall on deaf ears.

✵✵✵✵✵

Elide didn’t know how long they’d been in the bathroom. Her tears had dried, if only because she cried them all out. She felt numb now, completely unable to make any kind of decision.

She opened her mouth to say something just as the front door opened and shut. “Hey, sweetheart?” Lorcan called out, his low voice rumbling through the apartment. “You home?”

Elide sat up with a gasp. “Fuck, fuck, Aelin,” she panicked, looking around the bathroom for all the evidence. She frantically grabbed the tests and wrapped them in more toilet paper. She yanked a box of tampons from beneath the sink, shoving the pregnancy tests in. “What do we do?! He can’t know,” Elide whispered fiercely. “I’m not ready.”

“Lee, where are you?” Lorcan called again, closer to the bathroom now.

Elide swallowed before responding uncertainly, “I- I’m in the bathroom, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Aelin stood up, “I’ll distract him. Wash your face, honey, and drink some water, ok?” She opened the bathroom door a crack and slipped out, expertly blocking Lorcan from looking inside. “Hey, buddy,” she said brightly.

Lorcan frowned at her, blinking a couple times in confusion. He dropped a pile of mail on his kitchen table. “You’re calling me…” he shook his head like he didn’t even want to touch the subject. “Whatever. Is Elide in there?”

“Yep,” Aelin nodded, “she’ll be out in a minute.”

He folded his thick, tattooed arms across his chest. “What is this? You guys go to the bathroom together now?”

“It’s just girl stuff,” Aelin waved her hand dismissively. She glanced around the man, spotting his beautiful hound. “Mató, pookie-bear!” Aelin squealed. Without much care, she pushed Lorcan aside and rushed over to the black dog. “How are you, my pretty?” she cooed, running her hand over his gorgeous, luxurious pelt. “Oh, hi…”

Mató slowly wagged his tail. He gently nudged his nose against her hip pockets, sniffing for treats. Usually, Aelin would be the person most likely, given her own pup, Fleetfoot, and Aelin’s propensity for spoiling her rotten. Aelin laughed, “I’m sorry, pookie, I don’t have any treats. Fleetfoot got them all.” Mató whined softly. Aelin chuckled again, bending to kiss his head. “Next time, baby boy.”

“How many nicknames does my dog need?” Lorcan asked drily.

Aelin propped her hand on her hip as she looked at him. “I can’t help it. A darling pup deserves many titles. No one name is enough to encapsulate every facet of this gorgeous dog.”

The bathroom door clicked as Lorcan opened his mouth. Whatever he was going to say was forgotten, and he turned to his girlfriend. “Lee.”

Her eyes were still wet. “Hi.”

Lorcan’s brows creased deeply in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Elide glanced at Aelin before she shook her head and pasted on a fake smile, forcing a laugh, “Nothing, I’m ok. How was your day?”

“Fine.” His hands touched her hips as he stepped closer. Lorcan bent his head, “Elide, are you alright?”

Her head bobbed, almost a nod, but almost a shake. Elide’s throat was suddenly tight. “I’m fine.” She gave him a quick kiss before stepping around him. “Mató, baby,” Elide sighed happily.

He approached her and paused, tilting his head to the side. Mató sniffed the air, then growled.

“Mató,” Lorcan warned him.

The mutt growled again, louder and with more force, ignoring his owner. He stepped close to Elide, almost glueing himself to her side, and tightly circled her with his teeth half-bared. Mató nudged her stomach with his snout, whining once. Elide laughed shrilly, sharing an alarmed look with her friend. She cooed over Mató, “What’re you doing, cub? It’s just me.”

She nudged him aside to walk Aelin out. Forlornly, Mató stared after her before he sighed heavily and loped over to Lorcan.

Lorcan gently scratched his floppy ears, “You hungry, cub?”

Mató made a noise of interest, tilting his head to the side. Side by side, they walked into the kitchen to poke around the fridge.

At the door, Elide and Aelin were still saying good-bye.

“Bye, honey,” Aelin said. She squeezed Elide tightly and lowered her voice so Lorcan wouldn’t overhear. “I’m here for whatever you need, Elide. No questions asked, ok?”

The brunette found it hard to respond past her suddenly tight throat. She nodded as they pulled apart. Her friend gave her cheek a kiss, then called out, “Bye, Lorcy-poo!”

Elide managed a little chuckle when the fridge door slammed shut, and she could practically feel Lorcan’s glare, once again directed towards Aelin. “I fuckin’ told you not to call me that,” he growled. “Good-bye, Aelin.”

With a cackle, Aelin grabbed her purse, and she whirled out of the apartment like a hurricane.

The air in the apartment seemed to shift the moment she left. Elide was all too aware of the fact that there was no more buffer, and her boyfriend wouldn’t be easily dissuaded from questioning her.

Mató slinked over to her, circling around her legs. He made another rumbling sound from his chest. She crouched, smoothing her thumbs over his eyebrows. “I’m ok, pup,” she whispered. Elide kissed his furry forehead. “Promise.” She stood when she heard the jingle of keys behind her, looking at Lorcan. “You going somewhere?”

“We don’t have any groceries,” he said. Lorcan walked closer to her, not-so-subtly nudging Mató out of the way to wrap his arms around her. “I’m going to the store. D’you wanna come with me?” He bent down, brushing his lips over hers.

Elide pressed her hands into his warm chest. “Oh,” she gasped softly when he kissed her fully. She moaned a bit, her eyes fluttering shut.

He pulled away before she was ready, and Elide followed slightly. Lorcan pressed a chaste peck against the corner of her lips. “So?”

“So, um, what?” Elide swallowed, blinking a couple times.

Lorcan grinned cockily. “Groceries. You wanna come?”

“Oh,” Elide leaned further into him, pouting a bit. “No, I’ll stay here. I’m tired.”

He frowned a bit. “Are you feeling ok?”

She chuckled and stepped out of his arms. “I’m fine, Lor. I just want a nap.”

Lorcan stood up fully. “Hmm. I’ll be back soon.” Taking his coat off the rack, he shrugged it on. “Did you have anything you wanted for dinner?”

“No,” Elide shook her head. She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Whatever you want will be fine with me.” After she said good-bye to Mató, Elide padded off to their bedroom.

Mató watched Elide as she left. He did a massive yawn, displaying his sharp fangs, then licked his teeth. Whining, he gently pawed at Lorcan, who misinterpreted his worry for impatience. “I know, I know, pup,” he said. Lorcan took Mató’s leash off the hook and looped it over his head.

Somewhat reluctantly, Mató allowed himself to be led out of the apartment and away from Elide.

✵✵✵✵✵

Elide was being weird. Lorcan hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong, ever since that afternoon he’d gotten home and Aelin was there. He told himself that his girlfriend was an adult, a very capable adult that did not need nor want him fussing over her.

Still.

He knew something wasn’t right. Elide had been on edge for a few weeks now. Lorcan was pretty sure that the time he’d woken up in the middle of the night, she’d been in the en-suite bathroom crying. He hadn’t been able to fall back asleep that night, not even after Elide came back to bed. He had just stared at her.

Mató was weird now too. He followed Elide around wherever she went, and it wasn’t like Mató disliked Elide, it was just that Mató had always been his dog. He’d raised the mutt since he was a sorry little pup, and now Mató couldn’t be bothered with him.

Earlier in the day, he’d practically had to drag Mató out of the door to take him on a run. And that was after Lorcan had enticed him with the word drive. Mató’s favourite thing was a drive to the Oakwalds where he could run as fast and as far as he wanted, finally not confined to the city.

Lorcan tossed his keys into the silver dish in the hallway. Mató bulldozed past him, barking once to announce his presence.

He knew that Elide didn’t have work today, and she’d told him that her only plan was to do nothing.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

No response.

He frowned and toed off his shoes. He walked back through the apartment to their bedroom where he'd left her. “Elide?” Lorcan asked as he pushed the door open.

She wasn’t there.

Lorcan’s heart started beating a little harder as he whirled around, calling her name again.

As he walked back through the apartment, he saw the balcony door was open a bit. Lorcan crossed over to it.

Just as he was about to push it open further, he heard Elide speaking tersely, and he stopped himself.

“—Aelin, c’mon, please. I already talked about this. I can’t handle it right now.”

Lorcan knew he shouldn’t, knew he should leave and let her have her private conversation, on the phone, with her friend, but he couldn’t leave.

Elide sighed, “No, and I don’t need your opinion on my relationship. I’m not telling him, he’ll lose his mind.”

As her words registered, Lorcan actually took a step back. He didn’t know what to think or how to feel. They didn’t keep things from each other – ever. No matter what it was, they worked through it together.

Mató bounded over, and Lorcan caught him before he could burst onto the balcony. He pushed him back, moving them both away while his mind reeled. “Hey, hey,” Lorcan herded him towards the bathroom.

During Mató’s outing, he had inevitably rolled in every pile of mud they’d come across. He’d gone into a creek at some point, so he wasn’t tracking muck anywhere, but he needed a bath.

Lorcan shut the door behind them so Mató wouldn’t try to escape. Normally, the hound loved baths, but he’d been determined to be by Elide’s side whenever possible.

As he washed Mató, Lorcan was merely going through the motions. He didn’t talk to Mató like he usually did, didn’t shower him with adoration either. All he could think about was Elide’s conversation.

He’d known that something was wrong – he knew it . What he didn’t know was why she wasn’t talking to him.

Mató nosed at him while Lorcan washed the conditioner out of his coat. He let the water run for too long, until Mató was shivering a bit. Softly, he nudged Lorcan with his wet snout and licked his cheek.

Lorcan blinked, coming out of his trance-like state. “Oh, hi, cub. Sorry.” He shut off the water, and before he could stop the dog, Mató leapt out of the shower. “Mató, no—”

Mató shook himself, repelling the water from his mane. The bathroom was almost instantly drenched.

“Alright,” Lorcan sighed. He grabbed a couple towels, putting them down on the tiles before he got another one for the dog. Mató sniffed it gently before he licked Lorcan’s hand. Lorcan towelled him off. He’d like to use the blow dryer, but Mató hated it. He’d howl the minute someone brought it out and scream if it was turned on.

Once he was done, Lorcan collected the towels and tossed them into the laundry bin. He let Mató out of the bathroom, then followed him.

Elide was in the kitchen, fixing herself a pot of tea. She hummed gently to herself, lost in her own little world.

When Mató saw her, he trotted over to her, sitting at her feet expectantly. He barked once to alert her of his presence, his tail sweeping back and forth across the floor.

She jumped and gasped, holding her hand to her throat. Elide pulled her headphones out. “Hey,” she spoke to Lorcan, her eyes wide like she’d been caught doing something wrong. “When did you get back?”

“Like a half hour ago,” Lorcan told her.

“Oh.” Elide swallowed. “I didn’t hear you.”

I know, he thought. Lorcan ran his tongue over the sharp edge of his teeth. He nodded a bit, busying himself by idly tidying their kitchen table. “Mató was a mess. He needed a bath before anything else.”

She walked over to him, forgetting her tea for the time being. Elide gently rubbed his back like she could tell something was the matter with him. “Y’know, I was thinking we could do something tonight,” she said softly. “I feel like we haven’t spent that much time together lately.”

Lorcan held his tongue so he wouldn’t burst out with something like ‘And whose fault is that?’. He turned to face her, leaning back against the table. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“Mmm, I’m thinking Thai take-out and re-binge Dexter,” Elide winded her arms around his waist. The corners of his mouth ticked upwards despite himself. Lorcan nodded a bit. Elide smiled, “Yeah? Sounds good?”

“Mmm,” Lorcan hummed. “It sounds perfect.”

✵✵✵✵✵

“You’re sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Elide asked from the couch as Lorcan grabbed his coat and wallet. Mató was laying with his big head in her lap, effectively trapping her under his mass while she idly stroked his fur.

Lorcan laughed under his breath. There was no way Elide actually wanted to go with him to get their food – she’d already made her nest of blankets and pillows. “I’m sure, sweetheart. I’ll be gone for ten minutes.”

She frowned a little bit, “Ok.”

He chuckled again as he opened the door. “Bye, Lee.”

“Bye,” she called after him.

“You better not start without me,” Lorcan warned her goodnaturedly.

Elide squawked in offence, “Hey, I’m not!”

“Uh-huh…” Lorcan shut the door before she could further defend herself. He knew her too well – she most definitely was starting without him, and now that she’d been caught, Elide would sit on the couch and stew while she stared at the black TV.

They were lucky enough to have an apartment that was central to a lively neighbourhood. It meant that they never had to go far for food, either to a restaurant or grocery store.

Lorcan walked down the block to the little hole-in-the-wall Thai joint to collect their order.

Like he had expected, he was walking back through their door ten minutes later. “I’m back,” he announced while he toed off his shoes. “I told them not to, but they added iced tea for you.” He strolled down the front hall, not noticing that the apartment was suspiciously silent. “It’s decaf, though, so you won’t be up all night.”

When he rounded the corner, what he saw made him stop in his tracks.

Elide had fallen asleep and was curled against Mató, covered by her soft fleece blanket. Her chest rose and fell slowly, indicating a deep slumber.

Lorcan quietly put their take-out in the fridge for later. He wanted to be upset that she didn’t seem to care enough to stay awake for their date, but when he looked at her again, she looked so comfortable and soft that he couldn’t.

He walked over to her and picked her up, blankets and all. Mató growled before he saw who had taken Elide away. The dog padded after Lorcan as he carried Elide to their room. After Lorcan put her down in bed, she woke up.

“Lor? Is-” Elide yawned widely, her jaw cracking. “Mmm, did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he sighed. “It’s ok, we’ll do it another night.”

“Oh, ok… sounds good t’me,” she whispered as she snuggled back into her mound of pillows.

✵✵✵✵✵

Lorcan ate his dinner alone, standing at the kitchen counter. He’d put something on the TV but didn’t watch it.

Hours later, when he was finally ready to sleep, Lorcan had seriously contemplated sleeping on the couch. Despite the confliction he felt towards Elide, he didn’t want to be away from her.

When he went to bed, he pulled her into his arms and laid there until an restless sleep claimed him.

✵✵✵✵✵

It was early in the morning, during the murky period after midnight and before dawn, that Lorcan was woken by his dog.

Mató stood at the bedside, growling around the duvet captured in his jaw. He tugged at it incessantly.

“Mató,” Lorcan groaned, “stop that, cub.”

In response, Mató snarled at him. He dropped the duvet to bark sharply, fangs bared.

Lorcan sat up quickly. His aggravation had been building for weeks, and everything was boiling over at that moment – the fact that Elide was pulling away and nothing he did seemed to fix it, the fact that his dog had completely abandoned him and could barely be bothered to acknowledge him unless he needed something like now. “What is your problem, man?” Lorcan asked, scrubbing at his eyes. He glanced at the digital clock. “It’s four in the morning and—”

Mató barked loudly. His hackles raised as he flattened his ears against his head.

“Mató,” Lorcan said in a warning tone. He looked back at the bed, expecting to see Elide and hoping that she hadn’t woken up.

She wasn’t there.

All he saw were rumpled blankets and an empty spot where she belonged.

Mató pawed at his feet, then made towards the bedroom door.

Lorcan shot up, following Mató through the apartment.

His dog led him to the closed door of the bathroom, whining as he stamped his paws.

“Hey, hey,” Lorcan said, running his hand over Mató’s head. “It’s ok, pup.” He rapped his knuckles against the wood, “Elide, are you in there?”

The only sound he heard was a weak moan. Alarm bells went off in his mind when the next thing that came from the small room was the sound of Elide retching. Lorcan twisted the doorknob, but he found it locked. “Lee, open the door.”

“Go away,” she half-groaned, half-cried. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit, I can fuckin’ hear you,” he snapped.

Elide just threw up again.

Lorcan pressed his hands flat against the door, begging, “Baby, please.”

Distressed, Mató spun himself around as he whined.

“I’m fine,” Elide cried. “Go back to bed, Lorcan.”

“I’m here,” Lorcan told her through the door. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

She groaned miserably, and then it sounded like she was muffling her sobs.

He wanted to scream or kick in the door, but Lorcan didn’t do either. Lorcan didn’t knock again. Instead, he put his back against the bathroom door and slid down to the floor. He smoothed his hands over Mató’s head and kissed the spot between his eyes. “It’s ok, cub,” Lorcan whispered. “She’ll be out in a minute, yeah?”

The dog huffed and half-growled at the door. Unceremoniously, he slumped down in Lorcan’s lap, who idly stroked his hand over Mató’s fur. “She’s ok,” he said, repeating it over and over until he started to believe it himself.

Time passed by slowly as he waited outside the bedroom door. He would’ve thought that Elide was unconscious, or maybe dead, if she wasn’t crying audibly.

His worry had faded a bit, replaced by anger that churned disgustingly in his gut. Lorcan was angry with her, so angry. Elide was the one who always preached at him that the key to a healthy relationship was trust and communication.

He’d asked her, subtly and not-so-subtly, if anything was wrong, and every time, she assured him that there was nothing to worry about. She just lied, right to his face.

Lorcan started pacing back and forth before the bathroom door, roughly scrubbing his hands over his face as he replayed every time over the past month Elide had dismissed him.

Suddenly, he could feel everything touching his skin, and he couldn’t handle it.

He ripped his hair out of the bun, and he tersely started braiding it.

Only, it was too tangled to braid properly, and that only angered him more.

Lorcan flung his elastic to a random corner, roughly undoing the plait. “Fuck,” he swore loudly, dropping into a deep crouch. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Claw-tipped paws clicked over the floors. A wet nose nudged at him, and Mató whined deeply, concerned.

Lorcan pulled his hands away. He pet Mató, apologising to him. “I’m sorry, cub. It’s ok, yeah?” He nodded, “Yeah, it’s ok.”

Mató licked his cheek and moved closer, like he was trying to comfort Lorcan.

Lorcan sat down again, wrapping his arms around his dog. He laid down shortly after with a hand tucked beneath his head. Mató laid beside him, staring at him with his dark, inquisitive eyes.

He gently played with Mató’s ears, scratching the spot behind them. “Whaddya think happened, huh?” Lorcan looked at his dog like he was seriously expecting the hound to answer. “What do you know?”

Mató barked softly, then tucked his snout beneath his paws.

“Yeah,” Lorcan sighed. “That’s what I thought…”

Both man and dog turned their worried gazes back to the bathroom door and the woman beyond it.

They both shot up when they heard a sniffle and some shuffling steps. Mató was tense like a rubberband waiting to snap.

“Baby?” asked a wobbly voice. “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” Lorcan said, “‘lide, I’m right here.”

Elide sniffled again before the lock clicked. He waited as she moved away from the door, but Lorcan didn’t dare move until she told him to.

“Can you come in, please?”

Lorcan scrambled to his feet, his hand shooting for the handle. He forced himself to breathe deeply before he opened the door.

As soon as there was enough of a gap, Mató shoved past Lorcan and anxiously tapped his paws against the tile as he sniffed Elide all over. She let him as she ran her hands over him in an attempt to calm him down. Mató flopped down, putting his big head in her lap.

Lorcan was a bit more hesitant to step inside. He was about to say something, what exactly, he didn’t know until he saw the redness of her eyes. Tears had made sticky tracks over her cheeks. “Lee,” he murmured.

Elide’s bottom lip trembled, and he sprung into action.

First, he filled a glass with water for her. He handed it to her, and she took it gratefully. Then, he wet a soft washcloth and kneeled in front of her. “Can I?”

She nodded a bit, just a dip of her chin.

Lorcan tenderly cupped her jaw in one hand, his thumb and fingers grasping each side. He wiped the cloth over her pink skin.

“Thank you,” Elide whispered.

His first urge was to kiss her, but Lorcan didn’t know that she would want that now. “You’re welcome,” he said instead, hating how stilted they sounded.

Hesitantly, Lorcan sat across from her with his back against the tub. Elide had placed herself against the wall between the toilet and sink. He stretched his legs out, still wanting proximity with her. He spread them so Elide was essentially trapped between them, knowing it sort of made him an asshole. To cover up his nerves, Lorcan started picking at his cuticles. “So… are you alright?”

Elide fidgeted too, and Mató moved closer to her. “I don’t- um, no?” Her face crumpled, and fresh tears gathered along her lashes.

Lorcan couldn’t believe he was making her cry. It was like the only thing he could do nowadays was piss her off or upset her. He hated it. “Is it my fault?”

She huffed humourlessly, shrugging, “I guess a little bit.” Elide gently pushed Mató off her lap to raise onto her knees. She opened the sink cupboard to pull out a box of tampons.

He frowned a bit. Usually, he was really good about her period, and it didn't slip his mind. Thinking back, Lorcan couldn’t really remember her last cycle, but forgetting it once surely didn’t warrant this reaction.

Elide retook her seat against the wall, and Mató nosed at the box, huffing once. She clutched the box as she stared at it like it held all the answers to the universe. “I’m going to tell you something, and you can’t lose your mind, ok?”

Lorcan became very still, very suddenly. He remembered what he’d overheard the afternoon before, when she’d been on the phone with Aelin.

“I know that’s unfair,” Elide continued, “but I’m already freaking out, and I- I need, I need you, and you can’t be you if you’re freaking out. Ok?”

“Ok,” Lorcan told her. “I won’t lose my mind.”

“I wanted to tell you this in a different, better way, but…” Elide’s hand shook as she reached into the tampon box and yanked out a collecting of white sticks with pink caps.

His heart started to thump hard against his ribcage, and Lorcan wasn’t really breathing anymore.

Elide thrust them towards him, pushing them into his hand as she blurted, “I’m pregnant.” She’d planned something more eloquent, or at least she’d known she had wanted to be eloquent, but something about Lorcan made her lose all her nerve.

She held her breath as she carefully watched her boyfriend.

Lorcan slowly inspected each test. He was utterly still and quiet.

Anxiously, Elide buried her hands in Mató’s shaggy fur.

“You’re pregnant?”

She nodded, “Yes.” He hummed neutrally, his gaze returning to the tests in his hands. Elide started speaking quickly, just to fill up the silence. “I think I’m, like, ten weeks, maybe? I tracked it, but I don’t know if I did it right.” She wiped at her nose, “I think it happened when we went to the cabin at Lake Perranth. We, um, well…” Elide blushed furiously. They’d gone up for a long weekend and spent the majority of their 72-hours on each other, parting for food and sleep. There were a couple times, Elide remembered, that they were less than careful.

Lorcan remained silent.

Elide watched him worriedly, her teeth making a mess of her inner cheek. She hated his silence. “Lor, please, say something. Say anything.”

He finally looked up at her, his eyes bright. “We’re having a baby?” he whispered, almost elated.

“Oh,” Elide gasped. For some reason, she hadn’t imagined what it’d be like if Lorcan was excited. She’d barely let herself be excited. She held her hand to her mouth and nodded, “Yeah, yes, yes, I’m pregnant, we’re having a baby.”

With a rasping laugh, he got to his feet. The next thing Elide knew, he had lifted her up off the floor. His speed made her shriek, and then Elide burst into rich laughter. He held her tightly as he spun her around the small bathroom.

“Lorcan!” she shouted, beaming.

Mató jumped at their feet, howling excitedly.

“You’re having our baby,” Lorcan said. “Our baby.” He put his arm beneath the bend in her knees and swung her legs up so that she was cradled against his chest. Then, Lorcan carefully sat down again. He held her tightly, whispering a litany of prayers against her temple.

Elide wrapped her arms around his neck. She was unable to dampen her smile. “We’re having a baby.” The words sounded almost strange on her tongue, but it didn’t make her any less happy to say it. “Baby, we’re having a baby.”

He laughed wetly and pulled away so he could rest his brow on hers. One of his hands moved to her stomach, pushing up sweater and t-shirt. “We’re really doing this, huh?”

“We’re really doing this,” Elide confirmed.

Lorcan kissed her deeply, pouring all his affection for her into the embrace. His teeth tugged on her bottom lip, and Elide was reminded of the kind of passion that made them so forgetful in the first place. “I love you,” he told her, “so much, Lochan.”

“I love you too, Salvaterre,” she murmured, “so much.”

Apparently, the dog felt left out. Mató unceremoniously shoved his way between them, sniffing around Elide’s stomach where Lorcan’s hand rested. She laughed, cooing over him while she stroked his head, “Oh, cub, what a smart boy. You were right, you knew the whole time!”

Mató slumped to the floor, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. He laid there and soaked up all of Elide’s praise, his heavy tail sweeping back and forth.

Lorcan looked between them. “Wait…” he finally pieced it together, “is that why Mató’s been so clingy? He could, like, smell it?”

Elide huffed a laugh and affectionately scratched Mató’s ears. His tail thumped against the tiles. “Yeah, I think so.”

Her boyfriend grinned proudly and turned to his dog. “C’mere, cub.” Mató slowly got to his feet, nosing around Lorcan as his owner fawned over him. “You’re so smart, Mató, you knew the whole time, didn’t ya? Yeah…”

Slowly, Mató returned to the floor and twisted onto his back to ask for his belly to be scratched. His back leg kicked reflexively when Lorcan rubbed his stomach, and Mató panted softly, the sound almost like laughter.

“What a good boy,” Lorcan praised him.

Elide chuckled at the sight, running her hand down to Lorcan’s nape. She gently kissed the spot behind his ear. “Now that you know, can you call your hound off?”

“No way.”

“Lorcan! He's driving me crazy, c’mon.”

“What? I like knowing someone’s looking after you two.”

A smile threatened to break free as she shook her head in that way of hers that told him she thought he was ridiculous. Elide cupped his face, her eyes flicking over him. She pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “Are you happy about this?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to be,” she told him. “I’ve had some time to get used to it. It’s ok if you aren’t all the way there yet.”

Lorcan squeezed her side, “I am there. I’m happy about this, Lee, I promise.”

Elide arched her brow. “You’re not scared?”

“Yeah, I am, ‘cause it’s a baby, and that’s a big thing,” he said. Lorcan gently brushed her hair back for her. “But I am not scared to do this with you.” His gaze settled on hers. “Are you telling me you’re not scared, at all?”

She shook her head. “Not about this, about doing it with you,” she told him. Elide laughed a bit, “But everything else? I’m terrified. I’m going to be pregnant.”

He grinned, his hand moving to her still-flat stomach. “Baby, you are pregnant.”

Elide clicked her tongues, “I know that, dumbass. But, like, I’m going to be,” she used her arms to gesture a big belly. “Like, you know? It… it doesn’t feel real right now.”

Lorcan hummed, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t understand the anxiety that came with having to share one’s body with another being. He twisted his hand to thread their fingers together.

Elide looked down at her body; she carefully touched her stomach. “I made an appointment on Friday with Dr. Towers. Will you come with me?”

“‘course I will.”

Her eyes sparkled as she told him, “I think we’ll get to see her. Maybe even hear her heartbeat from the ultrasound, too.”

“‘Her’?”

“I know it’s way too early to tell,” she blushed, almost embarrassed, “but I just feel it.”

Lorcan just smiled and kissed her hair, never one to question her witchy ways. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

She rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone, whispering, “Me too.”

✵✵✵✵✵

an: mato = 'bear' in Lakota :))

i hope u enjoyed reading!! julia girl i hope its everything u wanted and more <3

tag list (lmk if u want to be added <3): @sassyhobbits @empress-ofbloodshed @celestialams @the-regal-warrior @icecream52 @elentiyawhitethorn

#elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #nalgenewhore #isa writes

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1920sladydectective · 10 months

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A Table for Two (Part One) 7.5K

She had to orchestrate them seeing each other again, and the best way to do that was force him to collect books for her.

Aesop Sharp's fifteen year old daughter tries matchmaking her father with the new Bookseller in Hogsmeade to distract him from the news that she's dating Garreth Weasley

There were many things that Aesop Sharp struggled with, an entire list in fact, including a lame leg, career pivot and endlessly idiotic adolescents. The thing he struggled with most though, you ask? Parenting his fifteen year old daughter, who unfortunately for him, was a perfect amalgamation of all of his most cunning and mischievous traits, paired with her mother’s beauty and charm. Every day felt like an invisible battle he couldn’t quite understand and though he had been doing it for a decade and a half, walking around with his heart outside of his chest, placing all of his love with her was a fearful feeling.

Edelyn Vanora Sharp was his pride and joy. He was also quite certain she was sent from some kind of warped Hell to torment him.

Ever since she was very young, she had been daring and adventurous. Crawling across floors away from her parents, only to be scooped up, or climbing so far into a tree that she was unsure of how to get down, it only became harder for him to monitor her as she aged, especially since the death of her mother. She wasn’t old enough to remember her, a gentle and soft woman with her same emerald eyes and boisterous laugh, but she knew that she was a mixture of her parents and though he was rarely open about things, he would always share stories of her mother with her.

Edelyn Sharp was in a truly awful predicament. She was in love, which in all honesty was rather lovely, but it was who she loved that posed the problem. After years of bickering and easy friendship, she had had the misfortune of falling in love with Garreth Weasley. This wasn’t a bad thing at all, he was just a tad reckless, until she considered her father and then her life seemed to be neatly engulfed in flames.

She was certain that she should have been overjoyed when Garreth asked her on a date, she accepted after all, but now as she lay in her bedroom next to her father’s staring at the dark blue ceiling, she could only fathom the damage control needed for the boy to survive to the end of the term, she didn’t have the mental capacity to think beyond then. There were nine days before the date, due to thankfully busy schedules and Edelyn estimated that she had perhaps a month after that before her father would notice something amiss. That estimate was incredibly generous, and relied on everyone keeping their bloody mouths shut.

Having not slept a wink, she sat tugging roughly on her hair as she debated what to do with herself. It was Friday, she had Charms and Defence, then a free afternoon. Poppy had been yammering about a new bookshop that had opened in Hogsmeade a few days ago, and she had a hankering to see it. Donning her blue robes, Edelyn rushed down to the Great Hall, where her friends and father already sat eating breakfast.

“Tough night?” Natty asked, passing her the eggs as Edelyn stared dazedly at them.

“Didn’t sleep at all, considering you know what,” She grunted, fistfuls of food hovering around her mouth but never quite making it in.

Natty snorted, as Poppy just smiled, both girls fully aware of the ridiculousness of her life. They had been there when Garreth asked her out, in the Transfiguration Courtyard last week as the little group of girls had sat studying in the tentative sunshine.

“Anyway,” Edelyn said, hanging on the word for a few beats too long, “Do you want to come to that new bookstore with me today, Pops?”

“Ugh, Bugger, I can't. I've already agreed to help Howin later,” The Hufflepuff grunted.

“Books or Beasts, who will win?” Natty mumbled as both girls reached out to flick her ear.

“Fuck you then,” Edelyn groaned.

“Take your Dad, might make him chill out around you for a bit,” Poppy suggested with a bright beam, as the words turned over in Edelyn’s head.

That actually wasn’t the worst idea, books were her main connection point with her father and it might mellow him enough that she could add another few days to her doomageddon timeline. Standing with a sudden purpose, she waved away her friends and glided over to where her father miserably sat attempting to avoid breakfast small talk with Ronen.

“Professor Ronen,” Edelyn smiled gently down at her Charms Professor, though he acted more like a well meaning Grandfather, incredibly invested in the every rise and fall of her life.

“Eda,” He bellowed happily, “What news do you bring, Dear girl?”

She let out a little snort, “No news, I was just coming to ask Dad if he fancied scoping out the new bookshop in Hogsmeade this afternoon, as you don’t have the Seventh Years today,”

Sharp let out an indecisive little groan, pausing in his ordered mouthfuls, “Come to my classroom around two thirty, I shall let you know then,”

She nodded, giving Ronen another smile as he stood, “We may as well walk together, considering,”

Ronen nodded back, grasping a small pile of parchment she recognised as their essays, and gestured for her to lead the way, as they each mumbled goodbyes to her father.

Charms and Defence passed with very little fanfare. She scored excellently on both subject’s essays, which brought her a subtle sort of joy at the knowledge that she was succeeding as much as was expected of her, which would also make her father more lenient in the number of books she could buy later. Luckily for her, Garreth was nowhere near her, as their delicate situation would have fizzled under Hecat’s sharp gaze.

Aesop found himself surprised by his daughter’s offer, yet touched all the same. Spending time with Edelyn at this age was tricky, he always felt like he was on the back foot when it came to remembering how she wished to be treated. She had a ferocious temper, one of the unfortunate traits she had inherited from him, and their arguments were legendary. All that to be said, in the quiet of their shared chambers they would bond over books and chess, both avidly researching new theories and publications. Some of his fondest memories were of her proving him wrong, which was an odd feeling to have. Above all else, she seemed completely unphased by his leg beyond a deep sadness that he felt pain. Where shame and anger sat with him, only unyielding love rested in her. Despite their differences, Aesop felt it important that he try as hard as she was, so despite the niggling burn in his thigh, he would venture to the bookshop.

Soon enough, two thirty came and Edelyn stumbled into the Potions classroom, blowing frizzy black waves out of her eyes with a frustrated grunt.

“Papa?” She called quietly, as the man emerged from his office with a light smile.

“Shall we get going then, Edie?” Aesop said, gathering his possessions and a small pouch of powder, “You don’t mind if we take the Floo?”

“Course not, Pa,” She said, excitement fraying her movements as she took a pinch and firmly stated the Hogsmeade Square, suddenly engulfed in fiery green shimmers.

Aesop followed after, his wand locking the classroom room firmly behind him.

Hogsmeade was always a hub of activity, but in the sunshine that early spring brought, people were out in droves to buy new clothes, explore the surrounding fields or indulge in a nice Butterbeer. There was a slight buzz surrounding the new bookshop too, a large shop painted a stunning burnt orange, with visibly hand painted books and flowers covering the wood, a few even on the glass of the display window. Above the artwork the sign simply read ‘Once’ which seemed to amuse her father for reasons she didn’t quite understand. Storming ahead, she allowed her father to move at his own pace, as she rushed towards the shiny new Muggle novels.

Aesop regarded the shop quizzically, almost baffled by such an affronting colour, though a minor artist himself he could not argue with the painting’s beauty. Stepping in, he realised they must have come at a lull, as other than himself and Edelyn there was only one another patron, and a woman behind an ornate wooden till with her back to him. Her hair was a similar colour to the paint and it made him snort, as he took in the eclectic selection on offer. Sunlight fractured into tinted colours through the window as the woman turned, her eye catching his, as his breath caught in his throat.

Eliza Fisher wasn’t quite sure what had come over her when she decided three months ago to pack up her job as a Cursebreaker and move to Hogsmeade to open a bookshop, but she had done it now and there was no going back. Her parents were long since dead, something she had sat with as well as a young woman could, and she was lucky for the freedom her situation afforded her. It had always been a girlhood dream, but feeling it actualised as she finished the tender brush strokes of forgetmenots and daisies, made her feel a fizzy melancholy. Though she had never been here before, her parents choosing to home educate her for reasons she never quite understood, she felt a familiarness, an ease she had been chasing her whole life. Here, in a quaint wizarding village, she was quite certain she had found purpose in the form of bound pages and happy faces.

Grateful for such a wealthy inheritance, Eliza had spent the month since purchasing the huge premises renovating it and decorating her modest two bedroom flat above. With each lick of colour and fully itemised shelf, the space came alive. For weeks, the shop’s name had plagued her, until she settled on ‘Once; a calm and slightly amusing adage to the structure of all classic fables and stories. The opening had been hectic, filled with bustling curiosity as she attempted to greet everyone with kindness, ready to answer any question or bundle any books in parchment. Sales had been fantastic, with a slight lull in the afternoons afforting her a chance to re catalogue. It was an all consuming hobby, and though she felt safe, there was a slight anxiousness that she would not be able to make friends with so little free time. She had bonded well with Sirona, the proprietor of the Three Broomsticks, but had struggled to meet people beyond the etched carvings of her desk.

The bell rang with three cheery hums, as she carefully made her dissent down the ladder with a pile of books in her grasp, pivoting on her heel. Looking up, her eyes caught a warm brown gaze, as the inquisitive look of the most attractive man she had ever seen made her mind blank.

Eyes locked, air heavy, thousands of questions.

The door slammed and Eliza startled, her neatly catalogued books tumbling to the ground.

Equally shocked from his reprieve, Sharp found himself rushing forward to help despite his leg’s protests, as muddled hands entwined around a now slightly damaged copy of Pride and Prejudice.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” Eliza said, words threatening to bubble out of her as her cheeks burned, “I really am too clumsy for my own good,”

“No, of course not,” Aesop replied, voice firm, “I startled you, please let me purchase those as an apology,”

“You’d read Pride and Prejudice?” She asked, slightly incredulous as she relinquished her grip on the pile to him, nervously brushing back her hair as she hazarded a glance at him. As handsome as her initial assessment then, an expanse of broad lines smoothed by the soft tufts of brown hair and patchy stubble lining his jaw, his eyes crinkled in the sunlight.

“I’m sure my daughter would,” He said noncommittally, focused intently on her rosy, freckles cheeks as she stammered and smiled. The slight burn in his ribs caught him by surprise, as rushes of interest and attraction stirred, long since dormant and confusing.

Amidst the commotion, Edelyn had turned, watching the interaction with an odd kind of fascination as something began to spin in the back of her mind.

As they stabilised from the startled introduction of names and Aesop insisting he buy the damaged books, he got to make the quip he’d been sitting on for five minutes, “Once?”

“Upon a time,” Eliza finished, a grin etched on her face, making her glow.

“Ran out of paint to finish the sign?” His smirk deepened, as she scowled goodnaturedly, shaking her head in fabricated frustration.

“I think we both know the answer to that, Mr Fables,” She let out a delightful giggle.

His eyes widened, though he supposed it was the most obvious thing in the entire world that he was named after the fables, especially to someone in her profession, “Professor Fables, if you will,”

It was her turn to be surprised, “A Hogwarts man, what do you teach?”

“Potions,”

“Ah, that’ll explain it then,”

“What?”

“The foreboding aura of a man constantly brewing trouble,”

Aesop couldn’t help but laugh, utterly disarmed by this bumbling, sarcastic witch with a toothy grin and hair like fire. Remembering himself, he glanced away and caught Edelyn’s passive gaze.

The chemistry was palpable and as she observed, Edelyn felt a candle light spontaneously in her brain. The best way to distract her father from her love life was to stimulate his own and the pretty bookseller had presented herself as the perfect candidate, delivered on a silver tray. Despite the convenience of it, seeing her father flustered and captivated by a woman was completely new territory. The Ex-Auror who taught her how to defend herself at seven or screeched at people’s foolhardiness in Potion brewing did not blush or twitch. Fighting through the befuddlement of such a sight, she considered her next course of action. All that was left for her to do was get Garreth on board with her plan, as she continued to survey the two adults, slowly moving towards them.

Aesop regarded his daughter, as she came to stand next to him with a pile as tall as her arms length of books, nodding to Eliza.

“Hello,” Her voice was calm and pointed, “I’m Edelyn Sharp, I see you’ve met my father,”

“Pleasure to meet you, you have quite the selection there,” Eliza said, nodding to the younger girl as her eyes scanned the spines for titles, “Is there anything else you’re searching for?”

“I think that’s certainly more than enough,” Aesop answered for Edelyn, raising a brow towards the girl as she sheepishly grinned.

Eliza stifled a laugh, taking the piles of books and wrapping them with precision, moving fluidly as she took the handful of galleons Aesop offered her.

The interaction simmered out from there, with a few loaded glances and murmurs, as Edelyn dragged her father out of the shop.

“Well, it was very nice in there,” Aesop said, mind far away as they stumbled towards Honeydukes.

“You certainly seemed to get something out of it,” Edelyn said, hugging the books to her chest as she basked in the sun, following him down the path.

Not wanting to rock the boat with too much probing, Edelyn allowed him to drag her around the sweetshop as she picked a few sweets here and there. He gathered all the usual suspects, toffees and jellybeans, a sherbet or two and some licorice. She could never understand his particular proclivity to the sweet, sour and pungent, but his mood seemed more risen than she ever could have hoped.

After a surprisingly pleasant afternoon together, Edelyn found herself searching for Garreth in the throng of people messily eating in the Great Hall. The ginger haired young man sat eating corn, as Edelyn flicked a piece of parchment to him with a time and place, causing the Gryffindor to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

For twenty minutes she sat gnawing on food, as she waited for the population to thin slightly, each minute dragging more slowly than the last. Finally, in an alcove in the Astronomy Tower, the pair sat whispering to each other.

“Sorry, Edie, What?” Garreth frowned, trying to grapple with the Ravenclaw’s words, “We’re setting up your Dad?”

“It’s ingenious, Garreth,” She rambled, “He won’t be able to focus on scrutinising us when he’s dating himself, so we’ll be able to interact in peace,”

“I wasn’t quite aware it would be this complex, love,” he licked his lips, contemplating her ideas, “Will he really mind that much?”

“Yes,” Edelyn said, gripping his hands, “Yes he will, you are the very bane of his existence, Gar,”

“That’s a fair summary, I suppose, though in my defence I am just a master Potioneer in the making,”

Edelyn rolled her eyes, shaking his shoulders in order to hold his attention, “I need that plotting mind to help me do this, but we have to be subtle Garreth, do you know what that word means?”

“I’ll try, for you,” He huffed, smiling down at her, “On that note, I’ve got to go and do some homework before I get stuck in Detention again and am unable to help,”

Edelyn grinned at that, standing on stiff legs as she squeezed his shoulder and then rushed off to the Faculty Tower.

Though it had appeared odd to her year group for the first few months of First Year that she stayed in the adult quarters with her father, the novelty had long since passed and just became fact, for which she was grateful. The first few nights she had spent in her assigned Ravenclaw dormitory had not been pretty, and by the week’s end she had moved back into her bedroom. It felt wrong to be removed from her father, despite the fact that they rarely had the chance to interact, and she desperately craved the comfort of her deep navy walls. As she opened the door into their little living room, her eyes fixed to the few empty spots on the bookshelf by her father’s desk.

She had to orchestrate them seeing each other again, and the best way to do that was force him to collect books for her. Plan cemented, she curled into her bed and began to read the slightly dented copy of Pride and Prejudice, curious to see what this Muggle book could hold.

Saturday was a new day, one which yielded the possibility of progress, as Edelyn haphazardly dressed and made sloppy note of the books her father was missing. Stealing toast from her father’s abandoned plate by the fire, she grabbed her hat and slipped out of the chambers, humming a slight tune as her feet slammed rhythmically onto the creaking wood.

Hogsmeade was in a similar state as the day before, though the calmness of the slightly colder morning still clung to the air, as she marched with purpose towards the shining, orange beacon. Again, the bell chimed, as Edelyn surveyed the books again, feeling a joy stir in her chest.

Eliza stood chatting quietly with an older witch, as she handed her piles of books on herbs and cooking, the thought making her stomach growl as she glanced up at the noise, slight panic stirring in her as she recognised the customer as the daughter of the handsome Professor from yesterday. Eliza fiddled with her hands, mind bringing forth the image of the tall man (not that it took much recollection, she could think of little else) as she pretended to dust the stock behind her.

“Miss Eliza?” Edelyn said, voice hesitant as she found herself in front of the desk, staring at the woman’s back. She really did have the most magnificent hair, tumbling curls of auburn and gold.

Eliza turned slowly, glancing down at the raven haired girl, “Oh, hello again! H-How,” a cough, “How can I help you?”

“I have a list of books for my father,” She murmured, “Some you’ll have to order in I think,”

“Yes of course,” Nervous flittering as she unintentionally snatched the paper from the younger girl, eyes scanning the list as her mind thought quickly, “I have two of them here, as for the others, your assessment was correct, they will probably take up to a week as I doubt I’ll be able to source them from the same place,”

“That’s fine,” a few moments as she stared at the older woman, “Is it alright to pay half and settle the bill when I come to collect?”

More overly enthusiastic nodding as Eliza noted everything down, slotting it into quite possibly the largest filing system Edelyn had even seen. Handing Edelyn the two thick Potioneers books, she grinned at the small girl, “Hope he likes them, send your father my love,”

Edelyn nodded back, giggling slightly as she rushed out of the shop.

Eliza was as red as beetroot, biting her cheeks and mumbling all manner of foul language under her breath as her anxiousness took hold. What had possessed her to say something so ridiculous? She’d only met the man the once for Merlin’s sake.

Later that evening, as Aesop prepared the weekly meal for the two of them and she finished some Arithmancy homework, Edelyn kept glancing at the small parcel obscured by her feet as he plated up and seasoned with the usual precision with which he brewed. The meal was lovely as usual and he couldn’t help but smile at his daughter’s vulgar mouth compared with her perfect posture and table manners. It had been many a moon since he had tried to dissuade swearing in their private chambers, considering how often he was prone to using them himself and he despised being a hypocrite.

After she had washed the plates with a flick of her wrist, Edelyn and Aesop retired to their respective armchairs, with tea and firewhisky placed on the shared end table, as she gripped the brown package paper and handed him the lump without a word.

His brow furrowed, as he tugged on the soft twine, “More books Edie, really?”

She waited until he had scanned the spines, eyes wide, before giggling, “For you, Papa, as you were a tad preoccupied...with me yesterday,” a long beat, “I had her reserve another three for you, Miss Eliza sends her love to you,”

“She did?” It was too fast for him to stop it, as visions of blue eyes and rosy cheeks battered his warm and tired mind.

“Yes, she said she’d keep them behind the counter for you, and that she’d look forward to seeing you,” Edelyn realised she was laying it on a tad thick, but her father’s dazed expression seemed encouraging.

“Me?” He asked quietly, “But you ordered them, Edie-girl, why would I be collecting them?”

“I have all these O.W.L.s mock examinations remember Papa, I’ll be far too busy revising,”

“Oh, of course,” Aesop was murmuring to himself, as she bit back a laugh, flicking through the pages as more images of the bright, enchanting bookseller bore themselves to him, “I’ll collect them whenever necessary,”

Their evening progressed as most Saturday’s did, both buried in books as drinks flowed and they would occasionally read a passage to each other, laughing at similar jokes until the yawns would interrupt them and they crawled to bed, after a tender kiss to the head and a warm embrace.

A few days later, on the coldest day of the week, Aesop found himself grumpily trudging through the town, uncharacteristic nervousness fizzling in his fingertips as he shoved the orange door open, eyes darting in search of his target. She was in a royal blue gown today that made her look like a running waterfall, flowing and ethereal as he choked on air once again. He was almost certain that she must use a fair share of products from someone such as Snelling to receive such an effect, yet her face was not shrouded by the appearance of such lacquer, as he gazed into her eyes.

“Professor,” “Miss Eliza,” They rambled over each other, bridging the gap as they both tried to take hold of the situation.

“You’re here for the books your daughter ordered? She said it would be her collecting,” Eliza said, sending him a smirk as she bent over to search through the crates.

“Y-yes,” a grumble as his eyes tried to look anywhere else than the round, suppl-”She delegated to me, lots of school this time of year, she’s a very hard working girl,”

“I’ve heard that is the general nature of Ravenclaws. Are you also that way inclined?” Somehow she was still bent over, words mumbled, tugging aggressively on a particularly heavy tome.

“No, I am a Slytherin myself, though she has a ridiculously keen mind much like her mother did,” Sharp gulped slightly, eyes betraying him as he looked, body hot as she stood up oblivious to his struggle, eyes bright as ever, “y-You?”.

“Oh, I was educated at home by my mother, but if I were to guess I’d say I would have been a Hufflepuff,” She answered, slamming the books down on the wood as the air made her hair bounce upwards slightly.

“I second that conclusion,” He said, leaning against the carved wood as he grinned down at her, some sense returning to his mind. Aesop refused to let an innocent bookseller get the better of him.

“So Edelyn’s mother is a Ravenclaw, does that make you always outnumbered by intelligent women?”

“Christine passed away before Edelyn was four, so I did not have the fortune of seeing them together,” Aesop said, voice light as he gently delivered the words. For all his faults and misunderstandings, he knew how to communicate death and grief.

“I see,” Eliza said, voice measured and soft, as she pondered her conflicting feelings of the man paired with the new information, “I’m sorry for your loss, and I am sure you are doing a wonderful job with her, she is a delight,”

He laughed, crackling and warm, “She has her moments, but she is a teenager after all,”

Eliza blushed, unable to keep his gaze as she fingered the twine bow, “Indeed,” she handed the books to him, “There you are. Can I sort anything else for you?”

Aesop paused, licking his bottom lip lightly, “Thank you very much,” He took the books and tucked them under his arm, “Speaking of teenagers, I was hoping to order some textbooks for my Seventh years and perhaps a new book for Edie?”

Eliza jotted the name of the textbook and the quantity needed, before scanning her shelves, “Anything specific in mind for Edie?”

“She devoured that Prejudice book, so perhaps more by the same author or a similar ilk?” He said, following her gaze.

“Bold of a father to let a daughter read something so romantic, I admire that, Pride and Prejudice is a favourite of mine too,”

Aesop didn’t exactly want to explain that he hadn’t known the book’s content and was now reticent to purchase more, so instead adopted a different angle, “I’ve heard it’s a favourite amongst many, what exactly makes it so special?”

As she floated from shelf to shelf, Eliza laughed into her chest, fingers brushing across a cover of the aforementioned book as she pinched two of its companions, “What isn’t special about a tall, handsome man admitting his faults and changing them to marry a girl? I daresay that is what most women long for, with varying success,” her eyes had come to rest on his frizzy hair, smile settling.

“I see,” a hasty drag of air, “Reflects poorly on us gentlemen, understandably,”

“Do something to change it then,” Eliza’s voice held an edge, a sword wrapped in cotton as she jabbed it at him, eyes shining as she confirmed her selections, “We have a few here, but if she enjoyed P&P, I recommend Emma,”

“Emma sounds suitable, thank you,” Aesop’s answer was a daze, his mind trying to keep up with the onslaught of new information the women seemed to present without even realising it.

“Marvellous, now school books are discounted for Staff, so that’s a little bit of joy for your day,” She said, applying the lessened fee to his new Potions books and Edelyn’s gift, even as he attempted to stop her, resulting in a momentary staring contest which he promptly lost.

“You’re too kind, Miss Eliza,” Aesop said, “You are definitely ensuring mine and my daughter’s business,”

She blushed at that, without a response as he took his items and left, his gait slow and hesitant, wanting to stay in her presence for longer, to talk to her until she rested in the silence she found herself in.

Aesop was aware he was in trouble, as he limped through the biting air towards the floo point, his mind playing her words on repeat as he found himself back in his classroom with very little recollection of the events in between.

Hours later, after the bookshop closed, Eliza found herself in the Three Broomsticks.

To say that Sirona noticed the behaviour of the bookseller was an understatement. They had met on the evening Eliza had moved to Hogsmeade, sharing a Butterbeer and one too many stories for simple acquaintances. Since then the pair had remained friends and customers to each other’s services in equal measure. A book for a beer was always a pretty arrangement, but now as Eliza sat fiddling with the foam atop her glass with distant eyes and warm cheeks, Sirona found herself sighing into a tea towel.

“Who’s the gentleman?”

“What?” Eliza startled, firmly grasping her pint glass to stop it tumbling all over the bar.

“We aren’t twelve, Fisher. Who’s the man that has you all dreamy eyed and vacant?” Sirona’s hand rested on her hip as she bore down on the redhead with single minded focus.

Her friend’s stare triggered a gulp from Eliza as she avoided the woman’s gaze, “Well, it’s awkward and I am certain you’ll know him so I’m not telling you,”

“Is this the same woman who told me exactly why her ex-partner was awful in bed after half a drink?”

“You said you wouldn’t bring that up, Sirona,” Eliza said, voice shrill as she swatted at the barmaid, before shushing her voice to a whisper, “But since you asked so nicely, it’s Professor Sharp,”

Loud, disruptive laughter echoed as Eliza shrank away from her, frowning, “Oh holy hells, you are buggered,”

“Don’t say that, stop,” Eliza whined, gulping back her drink as she looked away.

Sirona did not stop, instead she spent several minutes relaying parts of Sharp’s personality to further solidify Eliza’s anxiousness around the man, “You said he smiled at you? I don’t think he’s smiled at me in years and we’re friends,” a pause, “So, perhaps we might deduce from that, that you aren’t doomed, maybe your affections are returned,”

“It’s all complicated, I am making a mountain out of a molehill,” Eliza said to herself, tracing shapes in the spillage on the bar Sirona had yet to mop up, “I’ve met him twice and he has been lovely, but I do not involve myself with men anymore, especially ones with daughters,”

“Edelyn is lovely, Eliza,” Sirona answered, slightly puzzled by her friend’s train of thought.

“Exactly,” She replied, stress leaking out of her voice, “I don’t want to disturb their relationship or become attached to her and then have things with her father end badly!” another pause as she drained her glass, “What the fuck am I even rambling about? There is no ‘thing with her father’”

Sirona simply refilled the glass and stroked back her friend’s hair, a gentle smile on her usually dull face, before going off to tidy the mess around the pub.

Eliza’s forehead met the sticky wooden slab of the bar, as she let out a distressed groan.

Aesop was not faring much better, staring at the flames of his fireplace as he forlornly realised he had barely done any marking and it wasn’t likely any would be completed soon. Edelyn had loved her gift, disappearing into her bedroom to devour it, leaving him trapped with her.

Eliza seemed to dance across his mind as easily as the fire did in its hearth, her words sticking into him. She seemed almost otherworldly, her beauty and gentleness captivating, as he tried to recite potion ingredients. He barely knew her, had only shared two hasty conversations and yet he was so desperate to hear more. He wanted her perspective on everything and he wanted to see her like he had before, bent over beneath him but with very little cloth-

“Papa?” Edelyn had slipped out of her room, holding her book with an odd glint in her eyes.

“E-Edie,” The image of a naked Eliza slipped away from him, cheeks aching with heat as he beckoned his daughter forward, “Did you need something?”

“I just wanted to check on you, see if you fancied a game of Chess,”

“Of course, though you are becoming a tad too good for my tastes,” He said, attempting to recover.

Edelyn snorted as she gathered all the pieces and placed them onto the end table with a simple Accio, “You’re just getting too comfortable, Old man,”

He absolutely thrashed her in retaliation to that comment, though she did not make it easy, constantly bringing up the one thing he hoped to avoid.

“I’m surprised you managed to pick such a good book, Papa, doesn’t seem like your genre,” Edelyn said, brows raised as she placed a pawn forward.

“I do admit I had help from Miss Eliza,” He blinked back her smile, “She seemed excited that you enjoyed the previous novel,”

“She’s ever so helpful,” Knight stole his pawn, he did not flinch, “She seems to get on well with you,”

“What does that mean, Edie?” He murmured back, stealing her bishop.

Panic flared slightly as she retreated, not wanting to reveal her hand too soon, “You just seem to like chatting to her, Papa, she’s knowledgeable,”

“That she is, she also seems to always have a view on everything,” Aesop replied, smirking slightly as snippets of her voice echoed in his head, “But I am glad to see her bookshop thriving, it is a sweet little addition to Hogsmeade,”

Edelyn nodded along with her father’s words, frowning at the shambles the board as in as she attempted to work around him, both in Chess and real life, “She seems a tad lonely though, from what I’ve seen and heard,”

“Oh?”

“Pops was saying she’s there all by herself all day every day, never another helper and that she lives above the shop by herself, Edelyn said, twirling her Rook between her fingertips, “I do hope she’s making friends,”

“I suppose I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Her father replied, picturing the bubbly bookseller lonely and bored, “Though I can’t imagine her friendless Edie, she’s far too kind,”

“Might be nice for you to try to talk to her more often though, you’re not exactly overwhelmed with friends,”

“Edelyn!” His voice resounded out slightly harsher than he’d intended, eyes snapping up to his daughter.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” The girl said meekly, admitting defeat in both areas for now.

There was a heavy silence before he spoke again, tone softer, “I’ll consider it, now to bed with you,”

Though he doubted his daughter was aware of his internal romantic battle, her words had spurred his thoughts all the same, as he lay in his bed running it through in his head. His dreams were filled with Eliza.

Somehow, much to Edelyn’s surprise, Sunday had arrived. Garreth was scheduled to meet her by the school gates at noon and they were going to head off for a stroll and then perhaps a pint or two at The Three Broomsticks. She told herself she wasn’t nervous, as she pinned back waves and shined her boots, but the tremor in her hand and her jumbled thoughts spoke volumes. Evading her father, she slipped to the meeting spot, bouncing on her heels as he walked up to her looking as dashing as ever.

Gripping her hand, Garreth tugged her towards the floo point and with mumbled words they were gone. Landing in the plush fields of Upper Hogsfield, they grinned at one another as they anxiously began their date.

Aesop’s supply room was receiving a much needed overhaul and to his chagrin, it was missing things for no discernible reason. Or rather, the reason was a certain ginger fifth year who he would eventually take great pleasure in gutting like a fish. Unable to do such a thing yet, the Potions Master realised that he instead would have to venture to Pippins for the extra ingredients. Gathering his possessions and shopping list, he locked everything back up and made his way to Hogsmeade.

Garreth let out a loud sneeze half way through a sentence, as they climbed over a short stole wall, letting out a quip that made Edelyn giggle, “Must have been your dad cursing me somewhere,”

“He wouldn’t curse you if you stopped stealing from him,”

“I am innocent on all charges, Miss Sharp,”

Laughter mingled as they continued their walk, arms linked.

Pippins was in sight as he forced his leg to stop whining, the door swinging open as Aesop found himself staring at a back that he recognised all too quickly.

Pippin glanced up at him from behind the counter, “Just a second, Sharp,”

Aesop gulped as Eliza’s head whipped around, their eyes meeting as she bit her lip ever so slightly, “Professor, Hello!”

“He might be the person to ask actually, Miss,” Pippin interjected their meagre greeting, turning to the man, "She is in need of a pain salve, but I am out, I don’t suppose you have any?”

Aesop rolled his eyes at the older man’s heavy handed wink, hand diving into his pocket until he felt the coolness of the small circular tin, tugging it out and offering it to the bookseller, “Of course I do, Perry, as you well know! I do hope you’re alright, Miss Eliza?”

She took the offer gratefully, reaching for a handful of galleons, “I am well, just a victim of my own clumsiness, how much will I owe you?”

Aesop couldn’t resist a scoff at that, “Nothing at all,”

“But,”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He said, fixing her with a stare that disarmed her, warm blossoming in her stomach, “You have been more than kind and I am in bountiful supply of the stuff, take it,”

She nodded, eyes wide as she rubbed a small amount of the salve on her wrist, stepping to the side to allow him to step towards Pippin, “I shall take my leave then gentlemen, I hope to see you soon, Professor, thank you for trying, Pippin,”

As she slid past him and out of the door, Aesop was hit with a blast of flowers and old parchment, his eyes fluttering slightly as he fought the urge to chase the smell, swallowing roughly as he placed the order with a robotic voice, mind reeling.

If Pippin had noticed, he said nothing, though his smirk seemed a tad wider that day.

Feeling the spring breeze on his face as he stepped out of the Potions apply shop, he couldn’t shake the concern in his chest. Edelyn had said that Eliza was all alone in the bookshop, and he wanted to ensure that she was safe. No other motivations were pulling him towards the shop, none at all.

Eliza sat at the tall stool behind the counter, curled in on herself as she winced and groaned, attempting to contort to reach all of the injuries she’d acquired from falling from the ladders twice the day before. Though she had flipped her sign to closed for the moment, the high pitched chime showed that she hadn’t thought to lock the door, as the object of most of her thoughts strided in.

Aesop was surprised at the sight of her, skin paler than usual, as she murmured to herself.

“Are you alright, Eliza?”

“Not really,” She laughed humourlessly, “I’m not open at the moment, Professor, I’m sorry,”

“That’s perfectly alright, I came to check on you,” His voice was sweet, washing over her as her body seemed to calm slightly.

“You did?”

“You seem to have gotten yourself into a bit of a predicament, can I help?” Part of him was aware that he was overstepping, but seeing her contorted in pain with her hair and skirts a mess, made his heart clench as he inched closer.

“Yes, please,” She said, barely aware of her response, as he moved behind the desk, his body close enough that she could smell the dark scent of his hair mixed with the dampness of the outside.

With his calloused hand, he lifted her fingers from her wound at her collarbone, taking a swipe of the salve and replacing them with his own, his skin on fire as he made contact with her soft flesh. Both seemed to be holding their breath, as she melted into his touch, the pain fading away the more he worked it into her skin.

“Anywhere else?” He croaked, eyes drinking in as much of her as they could, watching as she hesitantly raised her skirts, revealing the worst of the injuries, a scrape to the back of her knee and upper thigh.

The silence grew thicker, as his hands worked with quick efficiency, his mind supplying him with images of her wrapped around him or beneath him, her flesh soft and hot for other reasons, as her chest huffed in a similar way, as he resisted a groan at her slight murmur of relieved pleasure.

Eliza was struggling to stay composed, aware he was just offering her medical assistance, and yet his every move felt so sensual, calculated and rough, his ministrations mixed with the salve removing all of her pain as her mind drifted slightly, eyes flickering shut as a happy whimper left her.

Shocked by herself, Eliza’s eyes opened to find him staring into hers, the warm brown now a dark molten that seemed to eat at her, as he removed his hand from the back of her thigh.

“Better?” Aesop asked, well aware of the answer, as he fought back the dark smugness growing in his chest. Two voices battled now in his mind, one insisting he just ask her to dinner in that very second for it was obvious that she felt the same, the other wanting to be a tad more tactful and reserved.

Eliza sucked in her bottom lip, trying to calm the thoughts of him shoving her against the desk and kissing her senseless, the blush spreading down her face to where his fingers had rested on her collarbone, trying pitifully to respond, only to nod slightly.

The thoughts were overwhelming him, as he tried to wade through them, mumbling responses in his head. A Dinner date would be nice, he supposed.

“I agree,” Eliza said, a smirk forming at his shocked expression.

Aesop realised a second too late that he had spoken aloud, but her immediate answer was what threw him off, panic and euphoria were at war in him as he let out a small laugh, his grin eating up all the space on his face, “Truly?”

“Of course, Professor,”

“Aesop,”

“Of course, Aesop,” She quipped, tongue poking out, as she felt the heady rush of lust and joy flood through her, despite her previous attempts to ignore it.

“Uh, Um,” He was grasping at straws, the first part done as he tried to follow through, “Does next Friday evening work for you?”

“It does,” She said, brushing back the tuft of hair that had stuck to his face, sending him a dainty smile that melted him.

“I’m afraid Hogsmeade isn’t too exotic, but I could host you if you like?” His offer sounded rather boring as he said it, mind distracted by her fingers grazing his cheek.

Eliza jumped at the possibility of seeing Hogwarts and more importantly into seeing more of his life, since hers was so readily available to him, “That sounds perfect, Aesop, I shall arrive at the gates at seven,”

He smiled back, apprehension and excitement building as she dropped her hand, turning at the sound of the bell chiming with several witches who had missed the sign. Aesop fought the urge to curse at them, as she hopped up and offered her assistance.

The interaction firmly ended, he sighed and made his way towards the door, shocked as he felt himself being pulled, as smooth lips made contact with his cheek and the echo of a giggle sounded in his ear. It happened in mere seconds, her skirts already swishing away by the time he could respond, as the breeze tugged the door open and he found himself stepping out.

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x oc #aesopsharp #hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x oc #poppy sweeting #sirona ryan #bookshop #romance #fluff

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