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hypnoneghoul · 1 year

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Mushy May Day 21. Body worship - Raindrop

WC: 1980

Dew doesn't feel too good about the changes the fire made on his body, Rain helps (+warning for dysphoria).

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Dewdrop was staring at himself through the body mirror built into the inside of his wardrobe. Again.

He was just in his boxers, he didn’t need to point out what they hid too, that wouldn’t end well, even if he was fine with it on a daily basis.

Dew stared at the scars on his ribs, under his pecs - one set rosy, the rest black, charred.

Ugly.

More black lines on his neck, forearms, calves, the base of his tail, the tip of it.

Wrong.

His skin was light grey, with a little bit of a red undertone, dry, at the verge of flaking off, on his shoulders and hips.

Ugly.

He looks into his eyes, which aren’t really his. His eyes were a pretty blue, those are striking orange. He sees tears welling up in them.

Wrong.

The hair falling onto his shoulders is no longer a pretty, silky blue-silver. It’s a curtain of straw-like strands.

Ugly.

Everything he is now, everything he was left with is wrong and ugly.

“Dew, baby?” he didn’t hear Rain come in, before he called out. Dew immediately tried to make it look like he was trying to pick something out of the wardrobe, but Rain stood there for too long. He saw the tears through the mirror, saw Dew’s slim shoulders shaking slightly, smelled his smokey scent turning more suffocating, acrid

“H- hi, just getting dressed,” Dew sniffled, absolutely not fooling anyone.

“Baby,” Rain repeated. So soft. “You don’t have to lie, hide, you know that. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s fine, I just…” the fire ghoul tried, but when he turned around to look at his mate and saw worry and love painted there, he couldn’t hold it up anymore. He burst into tears, hand flying to muffle his sobs, and Rain was immediately by his side, holding him close to his chest. “Rainy, it’s all so wrong.”

“What is, love?” Rain whispered, rubbing his hand up and down Dew’s bare back.

“Everything,” he sobbed in response. “Me. I’m just ugly and all wrong now, I don’t-”

“Dew, listen to me now,” the water ghoul interrupted, tilting Dew’s head up. “You are the most stunning creature I have ever had the privilege of laying my eyes on. You are nowhere near ugly, nor wrong.”

“But- I’m all scars, now,” he whined. “You’re just saying that, because you love me, because you’re my mate. Because you didn’t see me before.”

“I do love you, yes, very much, and I’m pretty sure I’d love you the exact same amount no matter if you’re fire or water. Unmeasurable.” Rain assured, making Dew sob even more, and just then, an idea sprouted out in his mind. “Turn around, baby, let me show you.”

Dew let out a quiet confused chirp, but obeyed, casting his eyes downwards as he was met up with his reflection again.

“No, look,” his mate encouraged, glueing himself to Dew’s back. “I want you to see what I see.”

“Rainy, I-”

“Shhh,” the water ghoul dragged his hands down Dewdrop’s arms, softly stroking the single scars on his forearms, moving onto his hips. “So pretty. Love those hips, just perfect for me to grab.”

And he did just that, after a moment sliding one of his palms down and resting it just over Dew’s boxers, “I think I don’t have to tell you what I like about what’s there.”

The fire ghoul was breathless, partially from crying, but also from the undivided attention Rain now paid him and his heavy gaze filled with nothing but adoration. He moved his hands up Dew’s torso, stroking the scars on his ribs, “Beautiful, a bit like a lionfish, those stripes. And these ones,” he said stroking the pink ones, “just gave me the most perfect, adorable tits to worship, didn’t they?”

Dewdrop, of course, did not answer, the comment about a lionfish echoing in his mind. Rain was right.

“Hmm, those shoulders,” he sighed, massaging the muscles there gently. “I don’t know, something about them is just… so perfect.”

Now one of his hands got back to Dew’s belly, pinning him to Rain’s chest, while the other dragged up to gently wrap around his neck.

“This pretty, slim neck. Again, just perfect for me to grab, like all of you was moulded for my hands. You love when I hold it too, don’t you? Of course, you do.” Rain chuckled, giving one playful squeeze and moved up again, cupping the fire ghoul’s jaw and turning him around. “And your gorgeous eyes, so big, like a puppy’s. How I love having them on me, always.”

Rain pushed some stray pieces of Dew’s hair behind his horns and ears, “There you go. You know, I love the hair too, it's so long, so soft, beautiful. Wish you’d take better care of it, though, you know, it would be like silk. I love running my hands through it, braiding it, and tugging. You love it all too, I know you do.”

Dewdrop nodded, barely noticeable, and Rain let out a soft chuckle, “But you can’t use it to hide, baby.”

He bent over to place a soft kiss on his mate’s horn, then the other on, then forehead, nose, whispering “my favourite, pretty face,” between the kisses, continuing on both his cheeks, then jaw, to finally land on his lips, “and my favourite, little mouth.”

Dew melted into the water ghoul, forgetting all doubts, believing everything Rain said. Even if only for a moment, he thought that maybe, someday Rain wouldn’t have to tell him all that, that he’ll see it all himself. Even if not, Dew knew that his mate would always be there to remind him again.

“Do you understand, baby?” he asked, looking so deep into the fire ghoul’s eyes.

“Y- yeah. Thank you, Rainy,” he sobbed nuzzling his head into his mate’s chest.

“Nothing to thank me for, love,” the water ghoul chuckled. “Bed now, yes?”

“Yeah,” Dew murmured and let himself be guided to their nest.

Soon enough he was laying on top of Rain, his long arms caging the smaller in, face shoved into his neck, as he let Rain’s soft gill fins tickle his nose. Dew’s hand was on the other side of his mate’s neck, gently fiddling with them.

“You want me to glamour them away?” the water ghoul asked carefully. Dew missed his incredibly and Rain didn’t want to get him back to the panic from minutes before.

“No,” Dew sighed in response. “You know, mine were different.”

“Were they?”

“Yeah. Yours are softer, something like a betta fish. I had something like an axolotl would, I think.”

Rain couldn’t help but imagine, and he felt a pang of longing despite himself. The next words he spoke, were let out despite himself too, “Do you have a picture, maybe? Of you?”

Dew lifted his head up to look down at Rain with wide eyes, and he immediately regretted asking, “No, sorry, I shouldn’t have, forget about it…”

“No, I- I do.” Dewdrop admitted. “I just never wanted to show you in case… in case you’d realise that it’s worse now…”

“Well, I think you know now that won’t happen.” Rain assured, bringing Dew down for a kiss. “So, if you would feel comfortable showing me, I’d love to see.”

“I- uh, yeah. Yeah, okay, I want you to see.”

Dewdrop got up from the nest and padded to one of his chest of drawers, crouching down to pull out the lowest one. Rain sat up looking at his mate with a soft smile. Something in how Dew was doing some things just seemed awfully cute to Rain.

In the meantime, the fire ghoul got back to the nest with a small wooden box. He sat cross-legged, putting the box between him and Rain. He hesitated before opening it, a flash of doubt in his eyes.

“You don’t have to, really, I-” the water ghoul reminded him.

“I want to,” Dew interrupted. “I think confronting it may actually help a bit?”

“I hope so, baby,” Rain chuckled. Dew took a deep breath and opened the box, lid hiding the contents from Rain, for now.

The small ghoul slowly pulled out a few pictures, shuffling them for a bit like cards. He then closed the box and jumped to sit next to Rain, leaning into him.

“Here,” he said, showing his mate the first picture.

The water ghoul audibly gasped at the sight. He could barely recognise Dew at first, to be honest. He was standing on a practice stage, with a bass, Meliora uniform on, but no mask. His silvery blue hair flowed down over his shoulders, his lips were upturned into the prettiest smile, blue eyes nearly glowing in happiness or amusement. He was looking to the side, the photo must’ve been taken without his notice.

He was beautiful, captivating.

But Rain noticed something else, something that not many probably would. Dew was gorgeous, yes, happy, in this picture, but his shoulders were slumped a little, something that Rain knew Dew did before his top surgery. Dew may have indeed been pretty as a water ghoul, too, but he wasn’t exactly content in that body, either.

“Dew, I- uh, you really were beautiful,” Rain choked out. “I mean, you know what I mean. You are beautiful now too, I think I proved it, it was just different.”

“Yeah,” the fire ghoul sighed, pulling out another picture. “Look here.”

In this one, Ifrit was piggybacking Dew, both visibly laughing. He showed Rain some more, one taken by Terzo when their whole pack, Aether, Dew, Mountain, Zephyr and Ifrit, fell asleep on the tour bus floor, tangled together like spaghetti. In another one Dew was hanging upside down, held by his ankle by Mountain, arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his face. There was one in which Dew had obviously just taken off his mask and balaclava after a show, as he had terribly messed up hair and smeared paint around his eyes.

Rain saw his mate light up at the memories, even if he himself was lost in thoughts. He let them out when they got to the last picture Dew had to show, “Can I be honest with you?”

“Uhm- yeah, of course,” the fire ghoul chuckled confusedly.

“You were absolutely beautiful as a water ghoul, yes. You are absolutely beautiful as a fire ghoul too, just a different kind of beauty. But, even if you miss it sometimes, even if it all was taken from you by force, I think that you are happier in this body in some cases.”

“Rain, I don’t think I-”

“Let me finish, please. I know your surgery, and the other changes didn’t exactly have anything to do with your element but, look, this body now is yours. Isn’t it? The water one wasn’t exactly, was it?”

“I- well, when you put it like that…” Dew admitted, actually meaning it.

“I suppose the perfect situation would be the surgery, and the rest, as a water ghoul, but-” Rain wondered.

“But then I wouldn’t meet you,” his mate blurted out, shocking Rain a bit. Yes, that was true, but that was not what he had in mind.

“Well, yes, but that’s not what I was going to say,” he smiled, a bit nervously.

“I don’t care,” Dew laughed. “That’s the only thing that matters now, I think.”

“If you say so…” Rain joined with a quiet giggle, as Dew grabbed his jaw and kissed him deeply.

“Thank you, Rainy,” Dew whispered after some time.

“Told you already, no need, love,” the water ghoul reminded him, kissing the base of his horn softly.

“There is,” his mate argued. “I don’t know where I’d end up without you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, baby” Rain sighed, tightening his hold on the little ghoul. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul #nameless ghouls #mushy may #rain ghoul #fanfiction #fluff

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bokutosworld · 4 years

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home sweet home | hq boys with their kids!

character/pairing: msby black jackals boys with their kids - hinata, atsumu, bokuto, sakusa!

wc: 1.5k words, pure fluff!

summary: when they finally get a much-deserved break from volleyball, there's nothing that the boys want more than to spend time with their little ones. but what do they do if you're not around for the day?

a/n: inspired by my fave korean show the return of superman! i just cant stop imagining how the boys would be like if they were left on their own with their kids<3 hehe

part two with schweiden adlers trio here!

---

HINATA SHOYO He wakes up feeling warm. When Hinata opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the sight of his adorable son laying peacefully on his chest. He brings his hands to ruffle his messy hair, the little boy pressing his cheeks closer to his father's body. It's been a long time since Hinata felt relaxed in the morning, and he honestly thinks that he could stay in this moment forever. But after a few minutes, he finally gets up and stirs the little boy in his arms awake.

"Dad? Where's mom?" Seiji asked, his bright, inquisitive eyes mirrored Hinata's own and he felt proud that his son took after him. He explains that you were off to your parents' house for the weekend and this makes the five-year-old pout. Despite looking a lot like him, Hinata knew that Seiji was a mama's boy and, though he wouldn't admit it, sometimes felt jealous that you were hogging all of his son's attention. So he was over the moon to have time alone with the boy.

"But don't worry! The two of us will have a great all-boys weekend," he declares. All of a sudden Hinata lifts Seiji over his head and places him on his shoulders. The little boy then got excited, starting to loosen up and laugh as they ran out to the living room. "Wow, look at that, Seiji, you are flying!"

With his dad's hands carefully holding him tight, Seiji felt safe and extended his arms in the air as they playfully circled the house. When they got tired, the two boys collapsed on the sofa. Hinata reached over his to mini-me, wiping some sweat that has formed on his forehead, "Are you hungry now? What do you want dad to make for breakfast?"

Seiji looks up at his dad expectantly, waving his fists excitedly with a big smile on his face, "Can we do that again?" And Hinata happily complies, already looking forward to a great father-son bonding.

MIYA ATSUMU "Papa, can we pwease go to Uncle Osamu's shop today?"

This was the third time Atsumu heard the request from his daughter. The four-year-old has taken a strong liking to his twin, and while Atsumu mostly finds this endearing, he wonders if she likes Osamu better than him. He takes the little girl from her sitting position on the floor and sets her on his lap, brushing some strands of hair that have fallen.

"Aya, do you like Uncle Osamu more than me?" As if on instinct, the little girl shakes her head. Worried that she might hurt herself, Atsumu cups her cheeks to stop her movement, but only to be shocked to see that tears are threatening to spill from her doe eyes. Shit, he thinks. "Okay, darling. Don't cry." He brings her to an embrace in an attempt to calm her down. "Let's get you ready, huh. We'll ask free food from Uncle."

When the door to Onigiri Miya opens, Aya immediately goes to Osamu's side, slipping past the counter and running to his open arms. Osamu lifts her up, "Hello there, little girl. Do you want to cook with me today?" She beams and nods her head enthusiastically, waving a hand to her dad who was standing by the door. "Hey, 'Tsumu. Just take a seat wherever, we won't be long here!"

This was the fourth time this week that they have been to his brother's shop. At this rate, he might as well have Aya sleepover with Osamu and let her spend time with her cousins. He opens his camera and takes a selfie, along with a message that he sends to you. Back at Uncle Osamu's again. She loves food just as much as you, it reads. He hears a bell coming from the kitchen, followed by a pitter-patter of footsteps. When he looks up from his phone, he sees Aya running towards him holding a plate with a small riceball on it.

"Papa, look! I made it for you," she excitedly tells him. Atsumu is touched by the gesture, taking the plate to place it on the table and tacking his daughter in a hug. He peppers her cute face with kisses and Aya is giggling, her laughter fills the Onigiri Miya shop. Osamu smiles and takes a photo of the father and daughter.

"I'm so happy, Aya, thank you." Before Atsumu eats it though, he makes sure to take a photo of her masterpiece. Our little chef made this, he proudly captions it before sending it to you.

BOKUTO KOUTAROU When you left Bokuto alone with your two kids, he was confident that he can handle them on his own. But boy, was he wrong. The whole house has been turned upside down with the seven-year-old Naoki jumping all over the place, and the two-year-old Suki crying on her baby chair. Not to mention their golden retriever barking to add to the chaos.

Sighing exasperatedly, Bokuto approaches Suki first, taking her from the chair and swaying to calm her down. He's having a staring contest with the dog, Tama, as his eldest son continues to wreak havoc. Then an idea pops up in his head.

"Naoki, what do you think of taking Tama out for a walk?" The playful boy stops in his tracks, turning slowly to look at his dad. Bokuto moves closer to him and grins. He knows how the young boy has always wanted to walk the dog, only you were opposing in fear that he might let go of the leash. But Bokuto has complete trust in him, and if things go south, he could always chase the dog. He crouches to his son's level, looking at him in the eyes, "We'll keep it a secret from Mom. What do you--"

Before he could even finish his statement, Naoki was already putting on the dog's collar and leash. Bokuto smiles and walks to the kids' room to change Suki's clothes. He pulls out a baby pink dress and carefully dresses his daughter. He also pretties her up, tying her hair in two ponytails with pink ribbons. When they finish getting ready, the trio proceed to walk in the park.

He notices that Naoki is much more behaved and more mature this time, thinking that he definitely looks the part as an older brother. Feeling much more at ease, Bokuto walks with a spring in his step, subtly bouncing the little girl who is strapped to his chest. Suki giggles at his father's actions, and he can't help but kiss her forehead.

"Hey, dad," Bokuto hears Naoki quietly call out to him. He sees the big smile on his son's face and feels like a proud dad. "Thanks for letting me walk Tama." Oh, you bet he was going to brag to you about today.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI Sakusa and his six-year-old daughter, Shiomi, were currently taking a vacation at your parents' house. As much as you wanted to come along with them, work held you up and you had to send off your daughter and husband, wishing them a good time in the countryside.

It's been three days and the little girl has been enjoying time with her grandparents. Sakusa could feel his heart warming whenever he watches her helping her grandmother doing household chores or when she is sitting in the garden and reading a book to her grandfather. He knows how you never want to miss a moment of your daughter's life so he sends you random snapshots and videos throughout the day.

He was lounging on the tatami in the living room, a book in his hands, when Shiomi came running to him. The little girl tugged on his hand, "Papa, come with me! We're planting a tree!" Completely smitten by her, he puts down the book and goes along with her to the back garden.

Shiomi helps him put on some gloves and hands him gardening boots. "Wear these so your feet don't get dirty!"

As soon as he wears them, the two of them proceed to get their tools and start working in the garden. Time always seem to pass quickly when one is having fun, and before Sakusa knows it, they have planted three sprouts of trees and sowed vegetable seeds in the family garden. He glances at Shiomi who is still full with energy, her eyes shining as she proudly looks at her work.

Sakusa hurriedly takes out his phone. "Honey, come here." He beckons her, and removes his glove before wiping a towel to her face. "Let's show Mama what we did today."

Shiomi goes to the other side of tree, pointing at it before displaying the widest grin. Sakusa sets the front camera and their faces are shown on the screen. With the biggest smiles on their faces, he takes a photo and sends it to you, the caption reading: We missed you. Planting is fun!

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuucreations #hinata x reader #atsumu x reader #bokuto x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x you #haikyuu!!#the way my title doesnt make sense but ofc we wont talk about it

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akaashisbabygirl · 3 years

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camboy part two

authors note: hehe i decided to leave you all on a cliffhanger once again. if you haven’t read part one i suggest you do so! i think my tags are working again so hopefully this can be seen in tags!! i’m sorry that i took forever to post this, i’ve been really busy :( now, if you would like a part three let me know!

words: 1840

pairings: camboy!akaashi x female!reader

warnings: NSFW, male vibrator use, female and male masturbation, mentions of sex toys, reader gets sad, akaashi gets sad, kinda angsty, leaves you on a cliffhanger

part one

“so...” akaashi’s voice spoke into the microphone sitting on the desk, “thank you all for your suggestions. i’m going to be taking them into consideration for my next video.”

he quickly turned off the microphone, stopping everything he was doing to check out the list of items people had suggested for him to use in his next stream.

a harness, blindfold, handcuffs?? he didn’t know how much that would work. he’d have to find a way to restrain himself without having to call someone else to do it for him. that would be tricky. some viewers even suggested he used some sex toys such as a vibrator because they wanted to see what akaashi would look like squirming and overstimulated. or some even suggested that he were to edge himself, not letting himself cum just yet. cat ears, a harness? the things people were suggesting to him made him really interested to see just how far they wanted him to go. maid outfit? he chuckled.

it would’ve been next to impossible for akaashi to hide all the clothing items from you, his roommate, the one person he has definite feelings for. he couldn’t just keep some women outfits in his closet - you would believe he has a girlfriend who you didn’t know about. and if you felt the same way about him, you would be upset with the fact that he never told you about being in a relationship.

he shivered to these thoughts. which is why akaashi kept the idea of just getting the simple items - cat ears, harness, a skirt, sex toys etc. at least he wouldn’t need to try and hide them from you.

if you had found akaashi’s secret sex toy stash on accident - he knew you would probably just brush it off, considering you know him and his hormones, and knowing he wasn’t taken by anyone, there really wasn’t anyone to fuck.

you see, akaashi isn’t the type of person who is interested in one night stands. yes, he had lost his virginity before his ex girlfriend, which he regrets very much. but now, akaashi was a grown man. he was out there looking for a relationship that he wanted to last for a long time, a relationship where he can properly love the person for more than just the sex.

a relationship that he wanted to build with you.

he left his room quickly as he heard the door shut, signalling that you were back home. he was excited to see you, yet, he hid his excitement from you.

“can you help me?” you asked, pouting softly. akaashi chuckled, grabbing some of the heavy bags from your hands, setting them down on the kitchen bench.

a soft pink blush spread across your face. he was so big compared to you, and you liked it. you felt so small next to akaashi, so tiny and adorable. and you know he liked that too - akaashi feels that he can be able to protect you because you’re smaller than him, but that’s just how he feels.

the next day, akaashi was out early to leave for work. the apartment felt cold and empty when you had woken up to the painful sight of the sun shining too brightly into your eyes. it would be one of those days which you had gotten used to overtime, where you would spend all day at home on your own, waiting for akaashi to walk back in through those doors once more. you waited, and waited, thinking of things to do could seem to make time move faster than it had previously.

by noon, you were sitting on your bed, laptop in your lap as you scrolled through your work, submitting it to your manager before he yelled at you. you sighed softly, in desperate need for a break. that’s when the idea popped into your head, to check if he had uploaded. seeing that he had, you smiled greatly. a smile of relief had sprouted over your soft cheeks. you slipped your sweatpants down, watching how the man sat on the screen, his cock already hard and noticeable in his boxers.

you almost drooled at the sight of his cock. it was pretty. if that was even a proper way to describe it. you watched as the man took his erect cock from his boxers, thinking about how it would fit inside of you. he was bigger than what you had seen and taken before, but he was the only man who made you drool to the thought of what it would be like inside of you. how your cunt would feel sucking him in, how he’d hit those spots inside of you that you could barely reach with your own fingers. you’d let him fuck you over and over again until you’d become dumb and unable to think properly, drooling all over the white bedsheets of your bed.

soft fingers rubbed your clit, tracing around your folds before finally slipping a finger into your wet hole. a hand clamped over your mouth quickly to try and surpass your moans as your hips bucked up for more friction. you chased after that one feeling that made you lose control every time, the feeling that had your legs shaking and eyes rolling to the back of your head. moans slipped forcefully from your lips, a wave of pleasure spreading quickly throughout your body from the feeling of your fingertips desperately trying to reach that one spot inside of you which always sent you over the edge.

however, what you didn’t know was that akaashi was in the apartment. his jaw had dropped quickly while hearing a moan slip from your lips. without having to look into a mirror to see his painful expression, akaashi could tell a tear had fallen down his cheek. he felt as if he was tied down to the ground by some invisible shackles, keeping him in place, forcing him to accept the reality that he did not want to accept. he didn’t want to stand there and listen to some guy fuck you, he didn’t want to hear you moan for that man, praise them and give them all your attention. selfishly, akaashi wished it were him.

slowly, akaashi made his way out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. he rushed to bokuto’s, planning to send you a message saying that he would be at work late. it was only because he was too scared to see you right now, akaashi was too afraid to see you. he didn’t want to see your fucked out expression. he didn’t want to see the man or whoever was making you feel this good.

and so he left.

when akaashi arrived home that night, he acted as if nothing had happened - and so did you. it made akaashi mad, knowing that he had clearly heard something going on in your bedroom earlier that day, but he didn’t want to sound like a jealous idiot and bring it up. which is why he chose to keep his feelings to himself as he sat beside you, watching the stupid rom com on the tv. he hated the fact that he felt as if his feelings were twisted into a tight knot that he couldn’t untie. there was so much love for you filling his heart that he could’ve sworn that at any minute his own heart would combust from the anxiety which danced around his mind.

akaashi knew that he needed to get a new video out, his fans were growing desperate and he was needing the money. he waited patiently until you had left the house, before locking the door to his room, changing up his setting to the camboy’s room.

time passed and quickly moans were spilling from his lips, his hips bucking up as his hands grasped desperately into the bedsheets. he chose today to incorporate a toy, a vibrator specifically, yet, he didn’t know that this much pleasure would spread through his body. he blushed from how he was moaning, he was so desperate, so subby even. he felt dirty, overstimulated from the way the toy was making him feel. his eyes rolled to the back of his head as another orgasm washed over him, his fucked out body falling to the sheets after taking the small toy away from his length.

he waited until his body filled with some energy before he got up from his spot on the bed, moving to turn his camera off. he quickly changed his sheets, accidentally forgetting to put his skirt away, before passing out underneath the sheets of his bed.

you smiled, seeing akaashi in his bed fast asleep. you could tell he was in a deep slumber from the way he clung to his bedsheets, not even moving a muscle. you adored the sleeping boy.

“he must’ve worked himself too hard today” you thought, knowing that akaashi never falls asleep unless he’s exhausted.

how you wished that you could go over to him and kiss his forehead, telling him to sleep well, or even that you could get into bed, wrapping your arms around him and falling asleep with his back to your chest. there’s so much you wanted to do, but akaashi wasn’t your boyfriend, so it wasn’t going to happen.

you grabbed your washing form the bathroom, a pale blue skirt catching your eye in the process. this wasn’t your skirt. who’s was it? your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, almost swearing that tears began to bombard your eyes as your mind came to realisation.

akaashi has a girlfriend.

you left the skirt there, pretending as if you had never seen it. however, the thoughts of akaashi being with someone else made you feel sick. soon enough, you were also curled up under the sheets of your bed.

days had passed, yet the thought of akaashi having a girlfriend didn’t leave your mind. you wondered what she was like. how pretty is she? how tall is she? what is her hair colour? what’s her style? or in general; what does she look like? you couldn’t find a part of your mind that wasn’t thinking about this as you made your way back to the apartment. you felt sick, almost anxious even being there. you felt scared, scared that you would run into the girl who had crushed your dreams of being with akaashi.

opening the front door to the apartment, you heard a loud cry coming from akaashi’s room. his door was slightly spread open, screams and moans coming from there. you didn’t care about the moans, why was akaashi screaming? rushing to his room, you shoved the door open.

but what you saw wasn’t what you expected.

“akaashi...” you noticed the familiar set up to the way the cam boy has. the bed, the walls, even the pretty skirts, some of the toys he’s brought out before sitting on the bed beside him, “what are you doing?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu writing #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyū!!#haikyuu smut #akaashi smut #akaashi x reader #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x you #nsfw—🎟

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moxfirefly · 3 years

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Can i get a breeding kink prompt With mikey please? 👉👈

👁👄👁 I am-

Listen, do not get me started on this...

Okay here we gooooo

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Michelangelo had everything down to a science, which he always found hilarious since he wasn’t the science guy here. But ironic joke aside, he truly did have it all thought out to the point of near perfection.

Because Spring sucks.

Spring is annoying.

Everyone’s in a mood, everyone is in a state of perpetual chest pumping and nothing gets done. Mikey had long since learned that skating the excessive energy out of his system worked fabolously, combine that with some much needed alone time with a skin magazine or video and he could call it a night.

Spring is so annoying.

With you though, he had glossed over in a vague matter that maybe it would be best for you to hang back for a few days. Naturally that was odd, Mikey sometimes wanted to glue you to his shell if he could. A quick look of the calendar filled in the blanks, mutterings about approaching Spring Fever as they had named it were ongoing on the nights you’d been there. Mikey was being courteous, nay he was being shy at the very least.

Curiosity on your end though, would be your undoing.

So you packed your overnight bag with the essentials . He was probably overselling this whole Heat issue, it wasn’t like Mikey’s libido was at a soft two even on a bad day. That man could watch you shaver your legs with a full on mud mask on your face and still pop a boner. Naturally though you maybe should’ve listened

but your feet were already taking to the nearest Lair entrance.

Mikey felt antsy , even after spending three hours on his board. He even took out his old normal board to practice basic tricks on it, he’d played video games for an hour, thought about you for another hour and still his skin felt electric. The air in the Lair tonight was about the same, everyone was locked away to avoid unnecessary fighting. He figured he’d shower, think about you once again and retreat back to his room.

He felt a little better after the hot shower, he’d even found that you had left one of those sweet smelling body gels. That had significantly distracted him and now he couldn’t stop smelling himself, for he smelled like you. In his trance he neglected to perhaps notice that your scent had picked up a little more but he figured it was himself.

He nudged the curtain aside that led to his room (Raph had moved out a few months back) and tossed his towel somewhere in the chaos.

Then he saw you there, on his bed, flipping away on some random magazine he had lying around looking like a dream. Mikey froze on the spot, you looked up and smiled.

“So what’s the big deal? Aside from how funeral like quiet everything is around, has anybody sprouted a third arm?” You joked whilst setting the magazine aside, you sat up and assessed him. He was freshly showered, smelling of your favorite shower gel and wearing nothing but his boxer briefs.

For Mikey though, his literal reptile brain was only making him notice how gorgeous you looked in nothing but some stay at home shorts and a flimsy oversized crop top. Naturally you had settled into your relaxed attire once here, most of the time it consisted of things Mikey either outgrew or didn’t use anymore. He approached, tentatively.

“No third arms dude, just you know; tension in the air” He chuckled and so did you, you couldn’t help but notice how fixated his gaze was. He looked at every little detail of yours more intently, enjoying it even more. Mikey reached out and ran his knuckles across your chin. You kept your smile, sneaking down to press a soft kiss on his wrist. “What’ya been up to then?” You not so innocently asked as he started playing with your hair.

Mikey’s mind was too clouded, it had been clouded all day with scandalous thoughts of you. Even now as you sat in front him, the picture of sweetness and loveliness all he wanted was to consume himself in you. “Thinking of you” He answered distracted by ideas of pulling your hair, watching your mouth open in a gasp, body shaking with pleasure.

Maybe spring didn’t have to be so annoying...

“Well I’m here now, you should’ve just said so” You liked how concentrated he seemed, fascinated with your hair or with caressing your cheek. You also didn’t mind that he was barely dressed, all strong legs and thin waist for display. You wondered just how badly he was fighting to not make his arousal so evident.

Then his hand retreated and he got down on both knees. His hands rested on your knees and you swore his pupils were blown out already, you pressed your legs tightly together.

“I can smell it, don’t hide it”

That sentence shook you. Your face flushed at his words but it only served for another shot of heat to pool beneath you. Mikey seemed so different, that cheery flirtatious nature of his wasn’t all quite there and you couldn’t help but wonder what lay in store for you.

He hooked his fingers in your shorts and pulled them down slowly, his excited energy was there but more zeroed in on the task at hand. You let him take them off for you, soon your underwear as well, his firm but gentle hand nudged you backwards. You laid down, breathing anticipation and exhaling desire when you felt those strong hands of his spread you.

“You smell so fucking good” Any and all rational thought had exited. All he wanted was to taste you, fuck you and claim you as his. He bit the inside of your thigh, enjoying the muscle tremble. When you felt a string of spit on your core and that wet warm tongue flick up your slit, you bit down on your lip. Mikey was never controlled, especially in this activity, he went at it like it was his last meal. But this honed in method left you shakey and needy.

He wanted you shakey and needy.

Thus he did the same, licking and sucking slowly, calculatedly. You looked down, his meticulous attacks making you squeeze your legs against his head. That brought a lengthy groan out of him, his hands gripped your thighs more and his movements picked up a little more in forcefulness. Soon enough he had you teetering on the precipice, close and closer and each second you swore he’d give it he took it back. You whined frustratedly, hand smacking down on the bed. Your heated gaze found Mikey’s, mouth wet with your essence, pupils still so blown you could barely make out his baby blues. He sucked a finger into his mouth and found your opening, your eyes rolled back into your head.

“You’re so damn wet, like you always get this wet whenever I eat you out” He was knuckle deep, making you crossed eyed as he found your spot and thrusted. “I wish you could feel what I feel when I slide into this pussy” He angled his finger, loving how you bit down hard to muffle a moan. His thumb found your clit and you nearly sobbed. “Fuck you’re so good, you’re all mine aren’t you? This...” He made a come hither motion with said digit. “This all mine?” He asked, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

You nodded vigorously, anything for him to just apply a little more pleasure to hit that spot with just a little more force.

Then Mikey was pulling out his finger and sucking the digit clean.

Yet another frustrated sound left you and you swore he smirked. When he got up, you bit your lip. He was fully hard, leaking and staining the front of his underwear. Good, served him right for the torturing. You made do of your shirt, not missing the hungry look when he saw you were bare beneath the shirt. Opting for some retaliation you fondled them, pinching and kneading. Mikey’s eyes followed them as he kicked off his underwear.

When he gripped your waist you figured he was going to climb on you.

You didn’t expect him to quite literally turn you around and manuveour you onto all fours.

This wasn’t an usual pose for Mikey, it’s not to say he didn’t indulge in it but he preferred to watch you ride him or to be so sweetly spooned against you. This felt, primal. He still seemed unsatisfied that he couldn’t watch you, so he improvised.

Once again wrapping an strong forearm around your waist he took you towards a small dresser that had a mirror. Your wide eyes were comical at this point, this was so unlike him and yet you found yourself so insanely turned on by it. He nudged your legs apart with his foot, hand on your lower back he guided himself in with his other.

That initial burn would never stop being your favorite and Mikey had full view of your eyes leaving their sockets. That gravely churr startled you, his usually didnt run that deep more along the lines of a pleasant purr. You clenched around him and his mouth hung open. That very sensation was something he could dream about awake. He had that feeling committed to memory, often times trying to replicate it with his hand whenever he missed you.

“Jesus fucking hell, Mike please move” You rested on your forearms, trying to move back against him but he held a firm hand on your lower back denying it. He remained quiet, you whined. “Please babe, please I want it so bad” Your eyes drifted to the mirror catchi. Mikey’s heated gaze and grin, he was definitely eating this display up.

He leaned over you, mouth close to your ear. “If... if I start I’m gonna keep going until you’re filled up with my cum” He tested his words by starting to move, hands gripping your waist tightly. The relief that washed over you was immediate, this angle was always a weak point for you so you knew lasting would be difficult.

Then Mikey slammed into you with enough force to rattle the dresser and it’s contents. Your mouth opened in a silent gasp, you watched how consumed he was feeling you. “Oh fuck Mikey, that’s so good” You felt him pulse inside of you, always one for praises this one.

“You’re gonna take it for me? Mhm?” He thrusted hard, demanding. You threw your head back, a blissed out grin breaking out on your face. “God yes, all of it baby, fill me up” You moaned, more so when he wrapped his arm across you chest and held you against his hard plastron. “Yes you are, you’re gonna take it all, every last drop” He shoved his finger into your mouth, pace quickening, churring nonestop.

He continued his words, each one making you hotter, the two of you were going to be a blushing mess after this. “Gonna fill you up, knock you up” He grunted against your ear, the angle was slightly uncomfortable but you were too lost in the lust to bother. You nodded trying to say ‘yes yes yes’ with his thick digit in your mouth.

Mikey felt you tighten so suffocatingly hard that you bit down pretty hard on his finger. He took it out just as you started to scream with your pent up release. “That’s my giiiirl” He groaned against you, slamming two more times before spilling himself in you. It felt never ending, each spurt deep within, Mikey’s short hard thrust making you slump forward in his arms. “Fu-uck Mike” Your voice shook, legs trembled as he emptied himself inside of you. He remained there, buried so far in, loving the mixture of his mess and yours.

Mikey bit down on your shoulder, hips starting to move again, his member twitching back to life. Your eyes shot open, watching him through the mirror. He kept you against him, this time by gripping both your breast.

His previous statement swam inside your foggy brain.

‘If I start, I’m not gonna stop...’

Spring was officially your favorite season.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt michelangelo x female reader #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey #michelangelo x reader #mikey x reader #ns*w #ask #beetle bab #smut prompt

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sanguineness-wings · 3 years

Text

Why are you running?

(read on ao3)

Pairing: Hawks x gn!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: bird traits/instincts

hawks/raptors have this instinct to chase and attack if you turn your back on them, so what if you accidentally trigger it 👀

----------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, sending amber rays of light between the tightly packed skyscrapers. You shield your eyes from the light as you step out of the convenience store, your groceries in hand. After you take a moment for your eyes to adjust, you note a small crowd gathering just up the sidewalk from you. And from the center of it sprouts a large pair of crimson wings.

It’s a dead giveaway, those wings were plastered everywhere across the city, on billboards, on buses. There’s no escaping Hawks’ image.

As you watch on, the man himself suddenly hovers above his adoring fans, stretching out his impressive wing span leisurely. Leaving you with a perfect view of his wind tossed hair kissed with dying sunlight and a lopsided smile on his lips.

It makes your heart clench as you look on with awe. He’s so effortlessly beautiful it hurts to look at him. It’s also incredibly intimidating. How can those fans just talk to him like it’s nothing. You couldn’t even imagine.

Your staring must have caught his attention as suddenly his gaze turns and locks onto yours. You feel your stomach lurch, frozen with embarrassment. Hawks has the audacity to offer you a softer smile, making your cheeks heat up instantly.

Your brain screams at you to leave now. Your shyness urging you flee the unexpected attention. So you sharply turn your back to the crowd, and the gorgeous Pro Hero, and hurriedly make your escape.

Without consciously knowing why, you take a final glance over your shoulder. Even with Hawks’ signature visor over is eyes, you can see his pupils dilate, nearly completely blown black before constricting to tiny pin pricks in a split second. His smile has fallen from his face, leaving behind a cold blankness. A shiver runs through you and a cold sweat breaks out under your collar.

Your brain unhelpfully supplies, “Haha, I’m in danger!” Adrenaline courses through your veins and you run. A full sprint down the sidewalk in panic. It’s a ridiculous response in hindsight, but you’ve never seen such an inhuman look on Hawks’ face.

You barely make it a few feet before you feel a gust of wind behind you and suddenly your vision is nothing but red. Massive wings envelope you entirely as powerful arms lock around your waist, almost bruising in their strength. You’re dragged to your knees as the body behind you curls over your spine. You feel the prickle of stubble against your neck and jaw, hot puffs of breath against your skin. You’re utterly trapped.

All logical thoughts are thrown out the window with your heart thundering against your ribs. You don’t dare move a muscle.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before you hear a huffed laugh next to your ear, making you shudder.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing, damn. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you alright?” Hawks says in a tight voice as he slowly releases you from his grip.

You’re shaking as you awkwardly stumble to your feet, Hawks aiding with a gentle, gloved hand on your elbow. When you finally get the courage to glance at his face, your heart does a somersault in your chest. A light blush dusts the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He has a hand behind his head sheepishly, using the other to steady you on your jelly-like legs.

“I haven’t done something like that since I was a teenager in training,” he admits, bashfulness coloring his voice.

“…and what was that exactly?” You finally find your voice, wincing inwardly at how shaken it sounds.

“Oh you know, like…bird stuff? Well, hawk stuff? Like predator instinct?” Hawks shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but you.

“Like...you thought I was prey?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. Well, I mean kind of. But not really? It’s hard to explain. You turned your back and I just…couldn’t help myself. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you at all?” Seeing this level of uncomfortableness on Hawks was so jarring from how he normally carries himself in the public eye. It was like all of his confidence was parred away.

“I’m okay, really. Just gave me a fright, that’s all.” You’re really trying your best to sound casual, adding a weak laugh to hopefully defuse the tension.

He humors you, offering a half-hearted smile as he stoops down to gather up your groceries that you didn’t notice had spilled across the sidewalk.

"Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I should be off. A hero’s job never stops.”

And with that he’s gone, taking off into the sky. You stand there dumbly on the sidewalk in shock for a few beats.

You then hear murmuring, whispering, and the click of photos being captured. Horrified, you realize Hawks’ fans were watching everything and recorded every second of it. You curse under your breath as you start rushing home, ignoring the growing crowd behind you. If Hawks wasn’t going to eat you alive, the internet certainly was.

---

Get it together, Hawks. What the hell was that?

The winged hero cursed at himself with gritted teeth and a furrowed brow as he shot across the sky. He shouldn’t have done that. He was trained not to do that. The Commission pushed him hard to ignore the animalistic pull to hunt and another traits they deemed unsightly or dangerous. And he had gotten good at suppressing those instincts. He passed all of their tests and drills after years of intense training. He never had a slip up since starting his Pro career.

His mind was racing as he tried to pin point what made him react like that. Did he let his guard down? Got too comfortable in the moment?

He thought of the way you trembled in his arms, immobilized with fear. The thundering of your panicked heart and the quiver of your voice. A shiver crept down his spine, making his hair and feathers stand on end. He liked it. The thrill of it all lighting up parts of his brain long neglected.

A frustrated growl escaped his lips, lost to the roar of the wind around him. He really shouldn’t be entertaining those thoughts, even for a moment. He felt gross.

He dug his phone from his pocket, sending a text to his PR manager. The least he could do was give them a heads up. Though pictures and videos of the whole incident were probably already circulating. His PR team had their work cut out for them, it was a seriously bad look for the hero.

Almost immediately after he sent the text his phone buzzed angrily with replies from his team and an incoming call from the Commission. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a long night.

---

The days following were a nightmarish blur of embarrassment and anxiety. Your brief brush with Hawks was plastered across every social media platform. You couldn’t escape all of the memes and GIFs. You wanted nothing more than to blink from existence.

Most people thought the whole thing was funny, even wishing it was them tackled to the sidewalk by Hawks. Your coworkers teased you mercilessly, constantly asking if you at least got his number afterwards.

There weren’t many, but a few comments filled you with anger. They were using this to fuel for their hatred towards those with heteromorphic quirks. They claimed that this proved they were dangerous, nothing more than animals. Which, of course, was ridiculous.

But you did your best to keep your head down and ignore the notifications on your phone. You kept reassuring yourself that this would all blow over soon. And sure enough by the end of the week the internet was distracted by “leaked” selfies of Hawks in grey sweatpants, posing in front of a bathroom mirror.

---

Hawks had just started an early morning patrol as he glided and weaved through the streets. He’d been taking on extra hours lately, finding it easier to distract himself on the job rather than staring at his bedroom ceiling. Who needed sleep anyway. If he stopped, all he could think about was you. The fear on your face. Your frantic pulse against his skin. Guilt gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to scare you, what type of hero would he be if he did.

Instead of dwelling on the thoughts eating at him, he focused on the streets below him. It was relatively quiet, only a scattering of people going about their lives. He swooped lower, maneuvering between lamp posts just for his own entertainment. He pulled up short abruptly, nearly smacking into one of them.

His heart lurched in his chest, recognizing you immediately as you made your way down the street. He had a little mental battle with himself. Half of him wanted to talk to you, just reassure himself that you were truly okay after all this madness. The other have was telling him to leave you alone, that he’d only made it worse.

After hovering awkwardly for a few moments he made his decision. He made a show of circling ahead of you before landing, trying not to startle you.

---

Having Hawks appear in front of you was the very last thing you expected on your walk to work. You had convinced yourself that you’d never see him again and that, even if your paths crossed, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you.

Yet here he was, with a charming smile on his face and feathers gleaming in the sun.

You approach him cautiously, pulling out your earbuds. “Um, hi?” you start apprehensively, not sure what the hero could possibly want from you.

As you catch up to him he starts walking beside you, joining you on your commute. His wing stretches out behind you and curls around your side. Smart, you think. Even if the two of you catch someone’s eye, you were largely blocked from view.

It’s comfortably warm beneath his wing, with your shoulders brushing against each other as you walk. Your heart speeds up a little, being this close to him is a little overwhelming. Especially with the memory of him being pressed over you still fresh in your mind.

“So, I wanted to start over, if that’s alright with you. I don’t think I gave you the best first impression,” Hawks explains, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Definitely a memorable one,” you quip lightheartedly. You were more mortified by all of the unwanted attention. You knew deep down you were never in any real danger.

Hawks snorts, making you glance at him. You watch him roll his eyes. “Not my best moment. I’m really sorry I scared you so badly. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone.”

It makes you pause as you stare at the side of his face. “I know you wouldn’t. And you didn’t even leave a mark. We can just say it was a...weird, unexpected hug. Leave it at that.”

Hawks’ gaze catches yours for a brief moment before looking away quickly, a serious look sliding onto his features. “You know that’s not what it was.”

“I know but...I’m not going to judge you for your bird stuff, or whatever it is. You’re still human. Even with the wings. We all have weird, awkward tendencies. I’m a mess of them too, and I don’t even have a Quirk. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

“So don’t beat yourself up too much,” you say, gaining a bit of confidence the more you speak. “You’re not a monster.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, both lost in thought. You surprise yourself when you are the first to break it.

“Besides, I thought we were starting over. I’m y/n,” you begin, nudging his shoulder with your own as you offer him a warm smile.

“I’m Hawks, but you already knew that. Say, why don’t I treat you to some coffee. There’s this great little cafe not far from here. They have these pastries that are to die for. Trust me, you’ll love it!” The hero chatters away, with you still safely tucked away under his wing.

#hawks #hawks bnha #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #echo writes

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calaofnoldor · 4 years

Text

Driving My Baby

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 2,183 (i can’t drabble)

Summary: Dean doesn’t know about your mad skills behind the wheel, but it turns out there’s nothing hotter than seeing his baby driving his Baby.

Warnings: implied smut, language, fluff, dean’s bow legs, references to the fast and furious franchise

A/N: was originally gonna post a slightly angsty 2-part dean fic next, but decided against it in light off recent events lol. there’s really no plot or substance here, just some light floof. (and yes, the title is a reference to the song ‘you’re having my baby’)

MASTERLIST

The roar of Baby’s engine rumbled to a halt as Dean glanced over at you, “Alright, so you gonna sit tight while I go scope this place out?”

You sent him a close-lipped smile, trying your best to repress the excitement bubbling within you. “Mhm!” you concurred with a bouncy nod, pausing to sneak a quick peek at his shapely behind when he stepped out of the car, “I’ll try and see if I can get a hold of that morgue guy again.”

Walking over to the passenger side, Dean bent down to kiss you through the open window. “Mmkay, I’ll be back soon,” he mumbled against your lips, before turning to commence his search for the potential vamp hideout you suspected was in the vicinity.

“Oh wait! Dean!” you called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yeah?”

“The keys?”

Dean looked down at his pocket where the Impala’s keys were safely nestled and then back up at you with raised brows.

“You’re not gonna leave me in here like a dog, are you?” There was a subtle hint of amusement in your voice, but also a challenging edge, as well as a slight pout which you added for good measure. You knew he could never really say ‘no’ to you.

And as expected, Dean returned to deposit the keys into your waiting hands. You gave him a wide smile in return, “Thank you! Love you!”

Your boyfriend narrowed his glimmering green eyes at you, imparting one last suspicious glimpse in your direction as he grumbled somewhat warily, “Love you too,” and then finally sauntered off for good.

Biting your lip, you watched with bated breath as his figure grew smaller in the rear-view mirror. Normally, you would have enjoyed the exquisite vision of what you often dubbed his ‘sexy ass bow-legged swagger’, but this time, it was when Dean was no longer in sight that a devilish grin broke out across your face.

But really, who could blame you? You’d been a car enthusiast all your life, and classic cars were your weakness. “It’s just you and me now, Baby.” Your fingers glided along the dashboard.

With Sam on the bench due to a broken ankle (courtesy of the werewolf from your last hunt), you and Dean had driven out to Piedmont to take care of this vampire case on your own. So now after two years with the Winchesters, you finally had a chance to explore the front seat of Dean’s Baby, his pride and joy, the glorious, refurbished 1967 Chevy Impala.

When you’d joined forces with the brothers, it was readily agreed upon that you would be better off riding together in the sleek American muscle car, so you ditched your stolen, rusty 2003 Honda Accord and never looked back. Since there was a giant moose to accommodate, you were naturally relegated to the back seat, and rightfully so, but boy, did you miss the thrill of being in the driver’s seat.

You were always a bit of a demon behind the wheel, and it’d been ages since you’d gotten the chance to flex your driving skills. Back when you and Dean first got together, he promised you joyrides (and other recreational activities) in Baby, but the hunting life never seemed to let you get it on.

Sliding across the bench seat, your lungs released a contented sigh as you wrapped your hands around the leather-bound steering wheel. Dean’s bowlegs, however sexy, were not the same length as yours, so you pulled the lever beneath the seat to adjust its position to your liking. Perfect.

You took your time getting to know the ins and outs at the helm of the Impala, though it seemed like none at all had passed when you suddenly heard Dean’s deep voice cry out.

“Y/N!” Your eyes shot up to the rear-view mirror to find an image of the older Winchester running towards the car. “We gotta go!”

Well that’s strange, you thought. Dean never ran – not unless someone, or more often something, was chasing him… Oh shit. Had he somehow woken the vampires? But the sun was still thriving; how much could they retaliate out in the open at this point during the day?

“We gotta get outta here! Now!”

Dean’s voice was much closer now and if you’d learned anything from your experiences hunting with the Winchesters, it was to never doubt your boyfriend’s commands. He was a seasoned pro and possessed instincts like you’d never seen. It’s a good thing you’ve also got some of your own.

Plunging Baby’s key into the ignition, you started the car without hesitation, allowing yourself only a second to relish in the thunderous purr of the engine below you and the incomparable feeling of glee that always sprouted in your chest whenever you were sat at the wheel of a powerful, capable vehicle. Indeed, the adrenaline was already rearing.

As Dean approached the car, you quickly reached over to open the passenger side door for him. “Get in the car!”

“You- Wha-“ Dean stumbled for a split second, so accustomed to taking the driver’s seat. “Y/N, they’re awake and they’ve got bikes – a bunch of Harleys!” he continued to explain, as if that would get you to move out of his designated spot.

“OK, so hurry up!” you yelled again.

Seeing no better option, Dean hastily climbed into the car. Just as he got in, your ears picked up the unmistakable resounding growl of revving motorcycle engines. From the sound of it, they couldn’t be too far off. So when Dean slammed the door shut, your foot came down fast and heavy against Baby’s gas pedal, propelling you forward with an aggressive lurch before you whizzed off, burning rubber and leaving nothing but flying leaves and dust in your wake.

“Jesus!” Dean bellowed; his eyes had grown to about twice their usual size.

You paid him no attention though, too busy reveling in the delightful buzz that vibrated through your body starting from your fingers and toes, where you could feel every unit of Baby’s intoxicating horsepower, and travelling up your limbs until the exhilaration settled deep within your very core.

Stealing a glance at the rear-view mirror, you caught sight of the monster-driven motorcade advancing considerably, so you decided to take the next available turn as an attempt to throw them off. Things were getting truly exciting now.

“Vamps on bikes? Really?! And covered in leather?” you huffed mirthfully with a shake of your head.

But it was Dean’s turn to ignore you. He was clutching at his door tightly, as if afraid your driving might somehow hurl him out of it. In fact, when you took the first corner without warning, Dean just about fell over.

“Woah! Slow down, Toretto!” he shouted in alarm, looking over at you as if you’d grown a second head.

Seeing you’d managed to surprise the vampires with your unexpected maneuver however, a loaded smirk was your only reply.

It took you about twenty minutes to get the vamps off your tail, during which time Dean managed to recover from his initial shock and began instead to absorb your radiant form. The look of exuberance on your face and the utter determination in your bright eyes, mixed with the mischievous tug of your lips, and combined with the all-around liberated and euphoric aura that surrounded you was sexy as hell, not to mention your sheer competence. All of it astounded him and caused his blood to flow to places he could not have foreseen.

You seemed to be completely at one with his esteemed Baby, handling her with perfect control and aptitude, and all the while enjoying yourself so very much. It was something Dean never knew you were capable of, but more so, it was something he never knew he needed.

Dean had always loved how much you loved and appreciated his car, but this made him feel like he was seeing you in a new light; it made him feel like he was falling for you all over again. That devilish glint in your normally kind and virtuous eyes, your ever jubilant and fervent love for life after enduring so much pain and grief, the way you never ceased to amaze and surprise him – it was all gloriously heady and irresistibly addictive. His teeth couldn’t help but pull at his lower lip, emerald eyes glazing over with lust and adoration as he stared over at you in the driver’s seat.

So when you ultimately pulled into an empty clearing, not wanting to lead the vamps straight back to your motel room, Dean was at a loss for words.

“So, a bloodsucking motorcycle gang, huh? Can’t say I’ve seen that before,” you speculated in a cheery, nonchalant tone, feeling perfectly satisfied after your little stunt driving escapade.

Dean, on the other hand, appeared not unlike a fish out of water with his furrowed brows and pouty lips which appeared undecided as to whether they should remain open or closed.

“That was… I just- You-… I don’t even know…” he ran his hands through his hair, pulling the short strands forward roughly, “What just happened?”

You sent him a small, innocent shrug, rather amused at his adorably stuttery response.

“You never told me you could drive like that.”

“You never asked,” you replied truthfully.

“Fuck, Y/N. That was… so… incredibly…”

What? Your curiosity was killing you. Dean’s opinion always mattered to you and at the moment, you could read a myriad of emotions upon his face. He looked stunned and confused, perhaps a bit frightened, but at the same time awed and impressed, and maybe even – were you reading that right? – slightly… aroused?

Dean lowered his voice to answer your unspoken question, “Hot,” he finished emphatically.

You heaved a breathy laugh, “Yeah?”

“Fuck yes! Baby, that was incredible. The way you handled Baby like a fucking pro, the little faces you made when you were living for the thrill of the chase. The skill, the speed, the Tokyo drifting, all of it. Goddamn, you are so sexy when you’re driving my Baby like that.”

“Well that’s a coincidence ‘cause I also happen to find you amazingly sexy when you’re behind this wheel,” you joked lightly, “In fact, I think seeing you drive this car might’ve been part of the reason I fell in love with you.”

“And I think I just fell in love with you all over again,” came Dean’s suave response.

You giggled a bit, but soon sobered when you saw his gorgeous eyes cloud over with wanton desire. One minute you were dwelling in the heavily charged sexual tension that seemed to consume the entire car, watching his gaze wander down to your lips while yours did the same, and in the next your mouths met ferociously as your bodies swooped forwards simultaneously, crashing together in the center of Baby’s front seat.

You moaned into the kiss, your hands finding their way around Dean’s ridiculously broad shoulders and up to his thick neck. When you were forced to come up for air, his lips began to work their way down to your collar bone. “Mmm, god Dean.”

“Seriously baby, that was such a turn on,” he rambled across your skin, “I didn’t even know driving could be so hot.”

Your laughter was really more just an exhalation of air. “Are we finally gonna do it? Are we gonna christen Baby now, thanks to your newfound kink?” you whispered salaciously, your brain already presenting obscene images of the two of you re-enacting something akin to the infamous Titanic scene.

Dean paused for a moment, allowing you to rip off his outer layers with relish before he brought his large hands up to cup your cheeks. “See I wouldn’t call it ‘newfound’,” he started, dazzling forest orbs boring into your soul, “Cause I’m pretty sure it only turns me on when it’s you behind the wheel, and I’ve always had a kink for you.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unable to keep the smile off your face, “You are such a smooth fucker sometimes, Dean Winchester.” And with that, your lips and bodies collided yet again. His strong hands held you impossibly close while yours ran joyously across his expansive chest before travelling down to find the zipper of his jeans.

“Ungh, wait a sec,” you pulled back a little with knitted brows, a playfully incredulous tone taking over your voice, “Did you call me Dominic Toretto earlier?”

“Well, yeah. You were driving like a madman!” Dean exclaimed candidly.

You smirked, “So does that make you Letty Ortiz?”

“Sweetheart, I will gladly be the Letty to your Dom anytime you want… I still can’t believe you just took me on a high-speed car chase, that was fucking awesome! Just wait ‘til Sam hears about this one!”

Laughing as you pulled him back in, you shut him up with your tongue as it invaded his mouth, pausing only to smile against his luscious lips, “Mmm, well maybe he doesn’t have to hear about this next part?”

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading, feedback always appreciated! oh and here’s a look at some new stuff at lexicolor.redbubble.com :)

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x male!reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine #supernatural #spn #fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #my writing #text #fanart #lexicolor #redbubble

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itcameuponamidnightqueer · 3 years

Text

beau wakes up calm.

it’s a feeling so pervasive that she’s almost unsettled by it. their lives aren’t calm right now, between eiselcross and vess de rogna and now these eyes that keep popping up all over her and caleb. any calm she feels is usually immediately overshadowed by guilt for feeling it.

but beau can’t find it in her to feel guilty right now, not when the tower is quiet and there is a large, warm arm thrown protectively over her stomach. not when beau can feel the tickle of hot air at the back of her neck as yasha breathes, steady and restful in a way she doesn’t get to be when she’s awake. beau considers learning magic just so she can stop time and give yasha all the rest she deserves.

for now, she slowly rolls onto her back, taking care not to jostle yasha or slip out from under her secure embrace. she rolls over and doesn’t open her eyes until she’s on her back, the mirror directly above her, waiting.

it’s a sex mirror. of course it’s that, because caleb said as much when he told her about it, and god, does she owe him a week’s worth of uninterrupted research or whatever nerdy thing he wants in return. it’s a sex mirror and she and yasha have checked that off their list already, at least for the first time. second, fourth, something--they have definitely checked that off their list for a quantifiable number of times, it’s just that beau doesn’t quite know the number.

it’s a sex mirror but it’s also not because it’s more, because beau opens her eyes and can see the two of them as they are now--wrapped together, heavy and sticky in the illusory sunlight, sheets draped carelessly across their legs. they look good together. it isn’t the first time beau’s thought that, and with any luck (and a lot of hard work), it won’t be the last. but this is the first time that beau’s had the chance to really sink into that feeling, to see the reality of it and commit it to memory.

beau takes her time looking, glances over her own familiar body and the way it melts against one she can’t wait to know better. she should be a little cold perhaps, given that the sheets don’t go any higher than her hips and she hasn’t been wearing clothes for a good couple of hours. but yasha is so very there, so wide and curled around her in a way that seeks comfort as much as gives it. she’s on her side, the parts of her that aren’t touching beau sprawled greedily across the expanse of the bed. beau could spend hours looking at this reflection of them, of yasha and the curve of her muscles; the way her skin actually seems to create a glare in the early morning light. it’s so bright normally, even brighter now for the nearness of beau. time is fleeting and the tower will disappear soon and so beau is greedy--she looks at the angle of yasha’s legs, the way she twitches her toes on the one foot that hangs over the edge of the bed. beau looks at yasha’s back, the slope and strength of it; she remembers how solid and warm it felt under her fingers just a few hours ago. beau has known how sturdy yasha is since they met--has lusted over it since then, to be honest--but to feel it within her grasp, to be pressed against it and to have it soften and yield at her touch…

beau would learn magic to give yasha the peace she needs. she would learn art to memorialize this moment and the way they look together.

she watches yasha sleep, clocks the way her nose is pressed into the crook of beau’s neck. she almost cries at the drape of yasha’s arm across her chest--a few inches down and she’d have a handful of boob. as it is, beau’s heart is beating a rhythm right into yasha’s palm.

beau turns her head away from yasha and clears her throat. “hey.” she clears it again when it becomes clear just how ragged it’s gotten. “dachsies, can you hear me? or do i have to yell.” she waits, straining to listen for the soft clink of a tiny bell or two. “frumpkin?” she tries again.

there is a faint ‘mrrp’ and the door to her bedroom opens slightly, just wide enough for a lithe fey cat to slip through. she can’t see frumpkin as he enters the room, but he’s there all of a sudden, jumping noiselessly and weightlessly on top of the bed.

he stares at her expectantly and beau wishes very much that caleb isn’t snooping, too.

frumpkin walks forward and sits next to her, the not-quite-fur of his tail swishing against her side. beau can’t help reaching out with the hand that isn’t trapped by yasha’s body and giving him a few scratches under his chin. he preens, closes his eyes tilts up to give her a better angle, and settles right back into his serious face when she pulls away.

“can you get the hot tub going again,” beau murmurs, “with some nice shampoos and shit? and maybe start working on a few dozen pancakes; i’m sure the others are gonna barge in here soon. make sure there’s a stack of spider ones for me and yash.”

frumpkin chirps again, butts his head against her chest as he jumps off the bed. beau reaches out to affectionately grab his tail, chuckling as it slips through her hands.

yasha is awake when beau turns back to look at her.

“hello,” yasha whispers. “good morning.” beau cuts her off with a kiss. “i love you.”

beau smiles at that, rolls over and presses herself firmly into yasha. she repositions yasha’s arm to wrap around her back, laughs when yasha drifts downward and squeezes her ass. beau kisses her again and again, slow and firm, catching any inch of lips or neck that she might have missed before. her hands roam without any destination, traipsing over the plane of yasha’s stomach, tickling at the dimples in her shoulders underneath which her wings sprout. beau knows how sensitive those spots are now, and she presses her fingers against them, syncs that up with another determined kiss. she doesn’t miss the way yasha’s tongue stutters against her own, the brief loss of contact she sacrifices to gasp, just a little.

yasha’s nails turn inwards and dig into beau’s hips, and beau returns the favor.

beau reaches upward and grips yasha’s chin, marveling at the fact that her thumb seems to fit perfectly over the line of black beneath yasha’s lip. she pulls away and tickles the skin there, can’t resist one more kiss, especially when it elicits that special, breathy kind of laugh from yasha.

she makes sure yasha’s eyes are open and looking at her before she speaks.

“i love you, too,” beau says, her voice deeper and hoarser than usual, even for the morning. “last night was...i won’t ever forget it, yash.”

“me either.”

“might have been the best night of my life.”

“not if i have anything to say about it,” yasha winks. “i wish we didn’t have to leave.”

“yeah,” beau sighs--breathes, really, and she falls a little more in love with the way yasha doesn’t turn her face away from what is definitely a bad case of morning breath. “we’ve still got some time before we have to, though. the dogs are setting up the hot tub right now.”

yasha laughs, deep and rumbly and beau feels it in her chest. “before all of you i never would have understood that sentence.”

“right?”

“mhm. it is--a very fun thing to think about.”

yasha gently lifts a strand of hair from beau’s face and tucks it behind her ear. beau watches the entire time, so entranced by the size and safety of yasha’s hands, so determined to follow their path with a kiss, that she misses yasha’s other hand coming up to rest behind her legs, and beau lets out a very uncool yelp as yasha lifts her from the bed.

yasha drags them across the mattress, stands and gets herself situated, and it isn’t until they’re halfway to the floating pad that beau clocks exactly how she’s being carried.

yasha’s arms are confident beneath her shoulders and legs, and beau has looped her arms around yasha’s neck instinctually, and tears start to well up in this moment of realization.

“yasha…”

yasha stops walking, leans down and kisses her, and it isn’t because they’re naked that beau is glad no one can see them right now.

beau flutters through her feelings and rests her head against yasha’s chest, silently, as they float gently down to the hot tub.

everything seems more muted in the daytime--the lionesses aren’t as imposing, the slides aren’t as tempting. but the steam and smells are just as inviting, and beau lets herself be carried into the water, settling into the warmth as yasha reaches for the soaps.

they both slip under the water; beau shakes her head and scratches at her scalp while she lingers, getting out the last of her restless energy. she pops back above the surface and drifts over to yasha, who has settled into the corner, her arms resting elegantly atop the stone edges. beau drops into yasha’s lap without a word, humming, content, as yasha’s arms slip back into the water and wrap around her body. yasha snakes her legs over the parts of beau that her arms can’t reach until beau is completely covered, completely enveloped in her love.

beau has always been attracted to women who could break her--big, strong women whose bigness and strength almost always equated to a good, long time in the bedroom. and yasha has that in spades--probably invented it--but it sure is fuckin’ something else to know that breaking is only half of it, that the flip side is that beau can be fully contained and sheltered in yasha’s arms. bigness is a comfort as much as it is a challenge. yasha uses her size to hold and cherish just as much as she uses it to fight.

beau sinks down so that her nose is just above the surface of the water, and tries her very best to pretend she isn’t crying. the effort is abandoned when she gets out of her head and realizes yasha is very carefully and very thoughtfully soaping up her hair with thick, gentle fingers.

beau sits up a bit and spits some water from her lips. “how come you’re so good at that?”

yasha takes a moment to think, tilts beau’s head back so she can rinse the shampoo out. “zuala and i didn’t have as much time together as i wanted,” she answers, “but we made sure to treasure every moment we were allowed.” she rubs her hands together, presumably spreading conditioner over them; beau can hear the slickness of it echo through the air. “i am able to follow a god because i had a wife once,” she says, quiet and matter-of-fact, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

god.

“well, fuck.” beau closes her eyes and tries to relax her shoulders as yasha’s hands knead through her hair again. “did you--i mean, i don’t want to overstep but--it was like this? all the time?”

yasha is quiet again, patient with her feelings and beau and the combination of the two. she slows her ministrations and rests her hands on the sides of beau’s face, her thumbs tickling at beau’s ears.

“the only similarity between the love i feel for zuala and the love i feel for you is that it is coming from me,” yasha finally says. “it was like this, yes--and it wasn’t like this at all. it was different because it was her. the whole world was different because it was her, you know?”

beau nods. “hope so,” she replies. “trying to, at least.”

yasha squeezes her cheeks, presses a kiss to the top of her soapy head. she gently pushes beau underwater and scrubs her hair clean with a little more force this time. beau lays back and watches, smiles as yasha scoops a hand underwater and brushes it over her lips.

beau sits back up feeling more refreshed and loved than she ever has in her whole life.

she swirls around to face yasha, lets the water guide her back to yasha’s lap. beau hooks her legs around yasha’s torso, lets the water hold her up as she drapes yasha’s hair over her shoulders.

“your braids could use a little touch-up,” she murmurs.

yasha, so sensitive and careful about her hair, simply nods and watches as beau lets it out, making tidy piles with the ties and ribbons on the ledge. yasha’s hair billows out once the last bunch is free; in the water, she looks beautiful and serene.

beau rests her hands on either side of yasha’s face, swipes her thumbs under yasha’s eyes as they kiss. “thank you,” she says, softly, “for loving me.”

yasha sighs and kisses her again. “you make it easy, beau. you don’t have to thank me.”

“i do,” beau insists. “for now, i do.”

she directs yasha away from the wall, takes her place in the shampoo corner. it’s a little different this time--beau can’t surround yasha quite as fully, and she has to wrap her legs around yasha and float to get a good angle to wash her hair. but yasha doesn’t complain, and she rests her arms on beau’s thighs and slides her hands over her legs, soothing and present. the water never cools off and the dogs are somewhere else, and for a few quiet moments, nothing in the world exists except this tub in this tower, hidden in a smelly, dirty tavern.

they’re clean and laughing in the kitchen by the time the rest of the party trickles in. beau can hear jester and veth speaking at cartoonishly loud volumes, announcing themselves just in case beau and yasha are doing anything worth being interrupted.

beau smiles, grabs a spider-less bite of pancake, and squeezes yasha’s hand.

“oh, here they are,” caduceus says as they file in. he takes a deep breath and smiles at the spread of food. “what a feast.”

he disappears, probably to make some tea, and beau looks at yasha for just a moment longer before the energy is too much to ignore.

she turns and almost bursts out laughing at the sight of everyone, lined up in front of the table, watching the two of them intently. veth’s eyes are as big as saucers and jester’s are shimmering, her hands clamped over her mouth. next to her, fjord is blushing and even caleb is sporting a smile, reluctant though it may look.

“hey,” beau says. she smiles casually and she means it.

“you’re so cute!!” jester shouts, flinging her hands away from her face. “oh my god, you guys, you have to tell me everything; i’m so happy for you even though we had to sleep in that super stinky room. please tell me it was worth it.”

beau laughs, winks as she tickles yasha’s hand. “totally worth it, jes,” she promises. she gets up from the table, kisses yasha’s knuckles as she does, and gestures for jester to take her seat. “talk to yasha for a sec, okay? i left you some spider-cakes.”

beau is too focused on grabbing caleb to notice the way jester scrunches her nose.

she doesn’t catch fjord’s eye as she leads caleb out of the room and she definitely doesn’t look anywhere near veth. she just drags her cranky wizard to a corner out of eyesight of any window in the kitchen and crosses her arms.

“if you’re about to tell me everything,” caleb says, “please don’t be offended when i say that i would be happier not to hear it.”

“what? no, gross. i mean, not gross-gross, but because--you, gross, right?” beau clears her throat, gently punches caleb’s shoulder to center herself. “i don’t...wanna tell you stuff. i just wanted to do this away from everyone else.”

caleb narrows his eyes. “do what?”

beau steps forward and hugs him. there’s no hesitation or coaching this time, just a strong press of her arms, and she stays there as long as it takes for him to hug back and mean it.

“thank you,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “this was….very special to me.”

“of course,” caleb mutters. “you need only ask, beauregard.”

“yeah, you say that, but it’s like--i know it, now.” to her horror, beau sniffles.

“i am glad you had a good time.”

“the best.”

“you smell very nice. thank you for bathing before hugging me.”

“i got you, dude.”

“can you let go of me now?”

“yeah, sure.” beau steps back and gives him one last shoulder squeeze.

caleb nods and squeezes back. he snaps his fingers and frumpkin is there, leaping onto his shoulder as they walk back toward the kitchen,

#critical role #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #this is??? soft and gay and so much???#idk you guys i had a lot of feelings and this is what happened #i'll post it on ao3 later but for now i must eat something #long post #tumblr fic #cr: regular nein

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lumosandnoxwriting · 3 years

Text

Teapots, Secret Passageways and Forever - George Weasley

Title: Teapots, Secret Passageways and Forever Pairing: George x Fem!Slytherin!Reader Warnings: NSFW!!! Dirty talk, fingering, oral (male receiving), throat fucking, orgasm denial, light spanking, degredation. Summary: turns out falling in love with your enemy is more complicated that George and Y/N thought. A/N: here it is, the sequel to good girl!! This actually ended up turning out differently than I thought I would and im not sure how I feel about that but I’m gonna upload it anyway otherwise it will quite literally never end up on here haha. But anyway, feedback is always appreciated/welcome!! Read part 1 here!

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George lets out a sigh, causing Y/N to glare up at him. He had promised to be good when Y/N agreed to let him tag along with her to the library, but they’ve only been there for 20 minutes and this is already the 5th time he’s let out a deep sigh. George grins at her, and even though she wants to be mad, Y/N finds him too adorable to even act like she’s mad.

Y/N rests her chin on her hand, just letting herself watch George for a moment. It’s hard for her to believe that just a few months ago she hated his guts, because now just the sight of George makes her feel dizzy with love. “What do you want, George?”

“Your attention,” George responds as if the answer is obvious. “When you said I could come with you I figured you’d end up sucking my cock or something. Not actually do homework.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the shiver that runs down her spine. “How can one person be that horny? We literally just had sex this morning.”

George bites his lip, memories of their early morning meeting taking over his mind. Y/N is still apprehensive about spending the night in his dorm, so Saturday mornings have become their opportunity to be together before George has Quidditch practice. There isn’t a deserted corridor or secret passageway they haven’t done it in, and they spent quite a few hours together this morning in the same secret passageway they hooked up in for the first time.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately, darling? You’re absolutely gorgeous and not to mention sexy,” George compliments, reaching out to cup Y/N’s cheek. “I just can’t control myself around you. Every time I’m around you I have the overwhelming urge to just touch you and pull you close.”

Y/N can feel her cheeks flushing, and she tilts her chin forward to silently ask George for a kiss. He kisses her briefly, but it doesn’t fail to make Y/N feel lightheaded. “That’s very sweet of you to say, Georgie. And while I find you extremely, extremely sexy, I do actually have to do my homework. Because of your inability to keep your hands to yourself I’m falling behind in Potions and Herbology.”

“Oh come on Snivellous loves you, he’d probably do your assignment for you if you asked. And Sprout is a total pushover. All you have to do is give her some sob story and you’ll get an extension easily.” George’s lower lip juts out, giving Y/N his best pout. “Please? Just pay attention to me a little bit.”

“Or, you can sit here with me quietly while I do my homework, and when I’m all done you can take me to the room of requirement and have your way with me,” Y/N suggests, picking her quill back up.

“Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal.” George sits back in his chair, just watching Y/N work. She’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she works on a Potions essay and George finds it incredibly cute. He finds it hard to believe that he once wanted nothing to do with Y/N. He’s absolutely captivated by everything she does, and he could spend hours just sitting there watching her do nothing.

“First Quidditch game of the year next week,” George comments idly. He knows he shouldn’t say anything, but he’s been sitting there quietly for the past 45 minutes and he can’t resist his urge to say something. It’s a Saturday evening and they’re the only two in the library, so he doesn’t even have anyone else around to watch and distract himself.

Y/N hums, not looking up from her essay. Honestly she’s surprised George lasted 45 minutes without saying anything, so she’s willing to humor him a bit while she works. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. Angelina’s first game as captain. She’s a nervous wreck. But she’s been doing really good. It’s like Wood is still there.” George pauses, watching as Y/N scribbles a few things down. “You gonna be there?”

“Of course.” She looks up to wink at George. “Slytherin’s playing. I never miss a Slytherin game.”

George rolls his eyes playfully. “But you’re not just going to be there for Slytherin, right? You’re gonna be there to watch a super-hot Ginger whiz around the field hitting bludgers at everyone.”

Y/N shrugs. “I dunno. If you ask me Fred really isn’t that good of a Quidditch player.” When George pouts at her Y/N laughs and leans forward to kiss him. “I’m only joking, love. ‘Course I’ll be there cheering you on. Maybe not as loud as I’ll be cheering for Slytherin but cheering nonetheless.”

“Guess that’ll have to do,” George drawls, fake disappointment in his tone. George bites his lip, watching Y/N flip through her Potions book before she scribbles something down on her essay. “Can I ask you something?” When Y/N nods he continues. “Will you wear one of my extra Quidditch jumpers to the game?”

Y/N looks up at George then, putting her quill down. “And betray my house? George Weasley how dare you ask that of me!” she responds, feigning shock. “How about I wear your Gryffindor hat or scarf? That way you can spot me in the crowd of Slytherins and I’ll be warm.”

George frowns. “But I want you to wear my jumper. You can wear your own hat and scarf and my jumper will keep you warm.”

“It’s just that. I always wear one of Adrian’s quidditch jumpers. And Daphne wears one of Marcus’. It’s like, our thing. Has been since second year when they made the team,” Y/N explains. She reaches out to grab George’s hand, frowning when he pulls it away. “Georgie. Don’t be like this.”

George huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. He knows that Adrian and Y/N are best friends, and even though she’d reassured him that her and Adrian never had romantic feelings for one and other, George can’t help but feel jealous when it comes to him. Obviously Y/N is his girlfriend and he knows that she loves him, but the mere mention of Adrian never fails to drive him up the wall.

“Just thought you’d want to wear you boyfriend’s Quidditch jumper,” he mumbles, settling back into his chair.

“It’s just a jumper, George. I don’t see what the big deal is.” When George doesn’t say anything Y/N sighs and gets up, walking over to George. She straddles his waist and places her hands on his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to George’s mouth. She keeps pecking his lips until George melts and kisses her back eagerly, his hands settling on her hips. “If it really means that much to you, I’ll wear it.”

“Promise?” George asks, unable to keep from smiling.

“Promise. But I’m wearing my Slytherin hat and scarf. Can’t let people think I’ve gone completely soft for you.” Y/N looks back at her homework, before looking at George again. “Ah screw it. I’ll just finish that tomorrow. Take me to the room of requirement?”

George’s eyes light up and he grips Y/N’s thighs as he stands up. “No need to ask me twice.”

“You can’t even have one meal apart from him without making love eyes at each other across the hall. It’s disgusting,” Daphne teases, pretending to gag.

Y/N flips her off, not bothering to break eye contact with George. Ever since they started dating Y/N and George have eaten every meal together, taking turns at which house table they sit at. But since it’s the night before the first Quidditch match George had opted to sit at the Gryffindor table without Y/N, so that Angelina could go over a few last-minute things with the team. He’s supposed to be listening to whatever Angelina is saying, but with how focused he is on her, Y/N knows whatever she’s saying is going in one ear and out the other. Adrian and Marcus join them then, and Y/N finally breaks eye contact with George, since Adrian sits right in their line of sight.

“You guys ready for tomorrow?” Daphne asks as they start to pile food on their plates. Snape had given the whole Slytherin Quidditch team permission to skip their afternoon lessons so they could get one last practice in on the field before tomorrow’s game. And both boys look exhausted, but also excited.

Marcus nods happily, “Oh yeah, Gryffindor is going down, no doubt about it.” He turns to grin at Y/N. “No offense to you or your boy toy, of course.”

Y/N flips Marcus off. “He’s not my boy toy, he’s my boyfriend, there’s a difference, moron. And there’s no need to be jealous, Marcus. I know it’s hard to watch me and George be together and I’m sure someday Daph will want to kiss you when she’s sober.”

Adrian laughs, prompting Marcus to hit him in the back of the head. “Don’t get feisty with me because Y/N is right. Oh, that reminds me.” Adrian reaches into his bag and pulls out one of his Quidditch jumpers. “Here, for tomorrow. I probably won’t see you before the game.”

“Oh, um. I don’t need it.” All three of her friends give Y/N a look and she puts down her fork. “I’m gonna wear George’s jumper tomorrow.”

Daphne frowns. “But you always wear Adrian’s. And I wear Marcus’. It’s a tradition, Y/N.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “It’s just a sweater, Daph. You’re acting like I’m stabbing him in the back or something.”

Adrian huffs and puts the sweater back in his bag. “If it’s just a damn sweater then why are you wearing Weasley’s? Didn’t know you stopped making decisions for yourself when he started shagging you.”

Y/N whips her roll at Adrian’s head. “You’re lucky there’s a table in between us Adrian or I’d break your fucking arm. Why are you being such a dick? George is my boyfriend and he asked me to wear his jumper. It doesn’t mean anything to me, but it does to him, and I love him so I’m going to wear it.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Adrian apologizes. “It just annoys me that things are changing. It used to be just us four. Now it’s always us four and George.”

Y/N sighs. As much as she hates to admit it, Adrian is right. They’ve operated as a foursome ever since the first train ride to Hogwarts, when they were all just scared 11-year olds. Throwing George into the mix has changed their dynamic and she’s sure it’s been hard on all of them to adjust. “I’m sorry. It’s not like I planned on getting a boyfriend, it just kinda happened. I’ll wear your jumper to every other Slytherin game, okay?”

“Guess it’ll do,” Adrian settles, taking a bite out of the roll Y/N threw.

“Woo! Let’s go George! That’s my boy!” Y/N shouts, causing the Slytherins around her to all glare. Harry has just caught the snitch meaning of course, Gryffindor has won. Y/N turns to Daphne who’s pouting next to her and shapes her fingers in the form of an L. “Sorry, Slyther-losers. Good luck winning the Quidditch cup now!”

Daphne rolls her eyes and scoffs. “You’re a Slytherin too, you realize that, right?”

“Not today!” Y/N pulls her Slytherin knit cap off her head and shoves it into her jacket pocket as she unzips it to show off the red and gold jumper she’s wearing. “I’m a Gryffindor today, baby! Now come on let’s go, you can go make sure Marcus doesn’t drown himself in the showers and I can give George the congratulatory blow job I promised.”

“Ew! Way too much information, Y/N,” Daphne grimaces.

Y/N laughs as they start to head down to the pitch, unable to keep the smile off of her face. George looks hot just sitting there doing nothing, so seeing him whiz around the field hitting bludgers has left Y/N feeling dizzy with a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. He was gripping his bat so hard his knuckles were turning white, and the veins on his hand were visible from her seat in the stands. He looked so powerful up there on his broom, and it’s a sight Y/N never wants to forget.

When Y/N and Daphne finally reach the ground she’s about to breakaway to sneak into the Gryffindor changing room, when Daphne grabs her arm. “What?”

“Look!” Daphne insists, directing Y/N’s attention towards the outskirts of the pitch.

Y/N swallows the lump that has appeared in the back of her throat. Angelina, Katie and Alicia are holding onto Fred, who’s desperately fighting against them, a dark look on his face. George has an identical look on his face, and he’s trying to throw Harry off of him. Draco is standing in front of them, and while Y/N can’t hear what he’s saying, she knows it’s nothing nice. “That can’t be good.” Her and Daphne rush over, just as Marcus and Adrian start to approach.

“Get back up to the castle,” Marcus directs not even bothering to look at them.

Daphne hesitates, but Y/N grabs Adrian’s arm. “What are you guys doing?”

“We’re gonna back up Malfoy, obviously. You heard Marcus, get out of here.” Adrian tries to shake Y/N off, but she tightens her grip on him. “I’m serious, Y/N. Go back to the castle. Whatever is about to happen is not going to be pretty.”

Y/N looks over at George. Harry now looks just as angry and is struggling to hold onto George’s Quidditch robes. They’re close enough now that Y/N can hear the tone of Draco’s voice, and it’s dripping with cockiness. George’s fists are clenched at his sides, like he’s preparing to knock Draco’s lights out. She’s never seen George like this, and while it turns her on to no end, it also scares the shit out of her. She lets go of Adrian’s arm and starts heading towards George to try and stop whatever this is that’s about to go down.

It’s Adrian’s turn to stop Y/N, and he wraps his arms around Y/N’s waist. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re about to put yourself in the middle of a blood bath.”

“Let me go, Adrian! As much as I would love to watch George beat the shit out of Draco this is not the time or the place.” She tries to break free from Adrian’s grip just as George finally looks away from Draco. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, but Y/N doesn’t miss the pure rage in them. George’s eyes drop to where Adrian is gripping her and before anyone can do anything George is lunging at Draco, punching him straight in the jaw.

“What did I tell you?” Adrian growls as he starts to pull Y/N back towards the castle.

Y/N lets Adrian drag her away as watches in horror at the scene unfolding in front of her. Harry has joined in the fight as well, and he and George are on the ground on top of Draco. Fists are flying everywhere and every time one connects with a body Y/N’s stomach lurches. After what seems like an eternity Madam Hooch and several professors are descending on the scene and their view is completely cut off.

Y/N takes the stairs up to Gryffindor tower two at a time, desperately in need of seeing George. It’s been a few hours since the debacle that went down on the Quidditch pitch and Draco has just finished bragging about the event after getting back from the Hospital Wing. What Y/N had wanted to do was grab Draco and hang him in the dungeons from his ankle, but instead she stormed out of the common room in search of George. His punishment is severe, and all she wants to do his hug him close.

“Oh thank god,” Y/N greets Ginny as she reaches the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. She really hadn’t thought about how she was going to get in until she was already halfway up the staircase. Y/N had planned on just standing around until a Gryffindor showed up, so she’s truly thankful that Ginny is already there.

Ginny smiles at Y/N and pushes the Fat Lady Portrait open. “When George got back I figured it would only be a matter of time before you came to find him. He’s up in his dorm”

When Y/N steps into the common room it’s dead quiet. Gryffindor’s parties are notorious around school, and Y/N knows that if the match had ended differently there would be a rager going on right now. Fred is starting daggers at Y/N, and she can feel her face heating up as she heads up towards George’s dorm. Fred is still not the biggest fan of her relationship with George, but he’s usually less obvious about his feelings towards Y/N.

Y/N takes a deep breath as she reaches the seventh-year dorm and she knocks quietly. “George? Georgie? It’s me. Can I come in? ”When George doesn’t say anything, she frowns and pushes the door open anyway. “Georgie,” she coos as she enters, shutting the door behind her tightly. George is sitting on the edge of his bed shirtless, facing away from her. His shoulders are tense, and it makes Y/N’s chest ache.

“How did you get in here?” he asks firmly, not bothering to look at her.

Y/N bites her lip and starts to tentatively walk towards him. “Ginny let me in, she was waiting for me, actually.” She stops when she’s a few steps away from him. “Are you okay?” she asks softly.

George huffs. “What do you think?” His tone is sharp, and Y/N can feel tears welling up in her eyes. She figured he would be upset, but she has no idea why he’s upset with her.

“I can’t believe that toad banned you guys from Quidditch. Actually I can believe it, she’s fucking awful.” When George doesn’t say anything Y/N starts to play with her fingers. “Will you talk to me George, please?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, Y/N. Just go hug Adrian or whatever it is you do when I’m not around.”

Y/N frowns and goes to kneel behind George on the bed. She reaches out slowly and places her hand on his shoulder. “Georgie what are you talking about? You’re the only one I wanna be with. Every second of every day. You know that.”

“Do I?” George asks as he stands up and turns to face her. “Because you two looked pretty cozy today down on the pitch.”

Y/N lets her eyes drag over George’s face. His eyes are dark and narrow, reminiscent of the way he was looking at Draco earlier. His lip is busted open and he’s got a pretty daunting black eye, but he still looks like George. “We weren’t hugging down there, George. Is that what you thought that was?”

“That’s what it looked like, Y/N. His arms around your waist like that. Only I’m allowed to touch you like that,” George growls, his fists clenching. “If you hadn’t been standing in front of him I would have broken his jaw, not Malfoy’s.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot, George,” Y/N spits, suddenly feeling angry. Although she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t turned on a little as well. Seeing George so angry and possessive has ignited a pit of arousal in her stomach. “He wasn’t hugging me. He was keeping me from throwing myself at you to keep you from hitting Draco. You know if it wasn’t for Adrian you could have hurt me, George.”

“I’ll be sure to go thank him then,” George sneers. “God, Y/N how can you be so daft. He’s clearly in love with you. I’m sure he was just looking for some excuse to touch you.”

“You can’t be serious George. We’ve talked about this. Adrian and I have never and will never have feelings for each other.” Y/N gets off the bed and comes around so she’s standing in front of George. “And you know what even if Adrian does have feelings for me I don’t return them. I’m in love with you, you big fat fucking moron. So quit it with this jealousy crap, George.”

George suddenly grabs Y/N’s hips and pulls her into his chest harshly before leaning down and kissing her hard. “I’m not jealous,” he insists as he pushes her back onto his bed. “But you’re mine, Y/N. And I’m gonna make sure every person in this school knows that. Especially that prick Adrian.”

“God, George. You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” Y/N sits up and wraps her hand around George’s necking, pulling him in to a desperate kiss. She lays back against the bed as George forces his tongue into her mouth, pulling him on top of her.

George starts to bite and suck on Y/N’s neck, feeling the need to mark her up as much as possible. He wants there to be no doubt in anyone’s mind who Y/N belongs to when he’s done with her. He nibbles along the underside of her jaw, leaving small purple bruises in his wake. “You look so fucking hot in my jumper, Y/N. Such a shame I’m gonna have to take it off.”

George’s hands have started to run up under the jumper, his cold hands shocking her warm skin. “Then don’t,” she gasps as George bites the crook of her neck harshly. “Leave it on while you fuck me, please. It smells like you, Georgie.” Y/N moans and tangles her hands in his hair as George starts to cup her bare breasts, his calloused thumbs rubbing harshly at her nipples.

“That desperate for me already, darling? So needy for me that you wanna be able to smell me while I ruin your pretty pussy with my cock?” George pinches Y/N’s nipples hard, smirking as her back arches up off of the bed.

“Please, George,” Y/N moans, tugging on his hair. “Just wanna be your good girl.”

Y/N’s words send a shiver down George’s spine and he kisses her briefly. “You sure you wanna be my good girl? ‘Cause the way you’ve been talking makes it seem like you wanna be a bad girl.”

“Yes, George. Always wanna be your good girl, wanna be so good for you.”

George pulls away from Y/N completely and sits up, starting to fumble with the button of his trousers. “If you wanna be my good girl so bad, then you’re gonna use that pretty little mouth to show me just how good you can be.”

Y/N sits up and bats George’s hands away, undoing his trousers and shoving them down to his thighs along with his boxers. She practically drools as his hard cock pops out, and Y/N immediately wraps one of her hands around it and starts to stroke him lightly, while her other hand pulls George down into a searing kiss.

George grabs Y/N’s face in his hands as he lays back onto the bed to keep their lips connected as she settles in between his thighs. He groans as Y/N’s thumb starts to swipe over the tip of his cock and he pulls away from her mouth, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as he does. He watches it snap back into place, a little redder and plumper before and he starts to shove her head downwards. “Go on then, Y/N. Wrap those pretty lips around me so I can fuck your throat.”

Y/N immediately settles on her knees between George’s thighs, gripping the base of his cock tightly as she takes him into her mouth. She loves it when George is rough with her and tells her what to do. Seeing him jealous and angry turns her on to no end, and she can already feel her wetness coating her thighs. Y/N takes him down as far as she can, moaning when he gathers her hair in a ponytail and gives it a sharp tug. His hips jut up, shoving his cock farther down into her throat, and Y/N braces one of her hands on George’s hip while the other fists his bed sheets.

“Oh fucking hell,” George moans as Y/N looks up at him from under her eyelashes. “Look so fucking pretty like that, darling, with your mouth wrapped around my cock. You love sucking my cock, don’t you Y/N?” She hums around him, and George’s hips surge upwards, burying the rest of his cock between her lips. Y/N gags as he hits the back of her throat and George uses his grip on her hair to keep her there for a moment before he pulls her off slightly.

Y/N lets her tongue run up against the underside of George’s cock as he starts to thrust into her mouth and as his hand guides her head. George shoves the tip of his cock into the back of her throat with each thrust, and Y/N can feel tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes with each gag. She makes sure to pay attention to the tip of his cock every time he pulls her back, letting her tongue flick at it and collect the precum that’s started to bubble up at the top.

George picks up the speed of his hips, groaning as drool starts to dribble down Y/N’s chin. “Always suck me so well, Y/N. Such a good girl for me.” George let’s his cock hit the back of Y/N’s throat one more time, before he pulls her off completely. He wipes some of the drool off of her chin with his thumb and cleans it off on his pant leg. “Thank you, baby for getting my cock nice and wet, perfect for me to fuck you with. Go on then, get on your hands and knees.”

Y/N gets into position as George gets off of the bed to take his bottoms fully off. She feels George push the bottom of his jumper up, so it bunches around her hips and she moans as his large hands grab her ass. The bed shifts as he settles in behind her, his hands tugging at the fabric of her leggings.

“George!” she gasps as his hands tear a whole in her bottoms, suddenly exposing her bare core to the cold air of the room.

“No panties?” George asks as he shoves two fingers into her wet heat. Y/N moans as her walls clench around his digits and George starts to slowly fuck her with them. “Such a dirty fucking whore you are, Y/N. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For me to use you like a little fuck toy, like you’re just a warm wet hole for me to bury my cock in. Isn’t that right?”

“Please,” Y/N begs as George’s fingers curl and finally brush up against her g-spot. George has never been this lewd with her, and she can still hear the anger in his voice. “Please, Georgie,” she whines, pushing back against his hand.

George smacks Y/N’s ass hard with his free hand, revealing in the moan that leaves her lips. “Answer me, Y/N. If you wanna cum tonight you’ll be a good girl and use your words. You’re just a warm wet hole for me to fuck and ruin, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, George, yes,” Y/N pants as his thumb starts to rub her clit.

George bites his lip as Y/N’s thighs and arms start to shake, and he smacks her ass again. “And you love being my dirty little fuck toy, don’t you?”

Y/N moans as George curls his fingers again, nodding wildly. “Love it so much Georgie, please. Wanna be your good girl, wanna make you feel good.”

In one fluid motion, George removes his fingers from Y/N’s core, grabs her hips and slams his cock into her, his hips moving until he’s buried completely inside of her. “Always so fucking tight for me darling,” George groans as he starts to move his hips. He sets a relentless pace, fucking into Y/N hard and fast. “I want to hear every little noise that comes out of you as I fuck you, understand? Want this whole fucking school to know just how good I make you feel.”

“So fucking big George, holy fuck,” Y/N moans. “Always fuck me so good, Georgie. No one can ever make me feel as good as you do, love your cock so much.” Unable to hold herself up from the pleasure coursing through her veins, Y/N falls forward onto her forearms, arching her back for George. The new positions allows him to slip even deeper inside of her, and she clenches her walls around George as she whines. “Right there, oh fuck. Harder George please. I need you,” she begs.

George tightens his grip on Y/N’s hips and slams into her harder. Normally George prefers to take things slow, but he still has the image of Adrian’s arms around Y/N’s waist and he wants to fuck her so hard that he forgets it completely. “Such a dirty fucking whore, Y/N. Begging for me to ruin you.”

“George,” Y/N groans as his thumb starts rubbing harsh circles on her clit. The tip of his cock rubs her g-spot with every thrust and her hips start to push back against him as her orgasm starts to build. Her body feels like it’s on fire and she can’t help the noises that come out of her mouth with each of George’s thrusts. “Please, George. Been such a good girl. Can I? Can I come George, please?”

George grunts as Y/N clenches around him even tighter, trying to keep his own orgasm at bay. “I don’t know if you deserve it, darling. Fuck toys don’t get to cum, do they? And that’s all you are, isn’t it? Just a little fuck to for me to use for my pleasure?”

“Please, please, please,” Y/N babbles as tears start to stream down her cheeks. She’s teetering on the edge of her climax and all she needs is for George to allow her to feel it. Pleasure is moving like an electric shock through her body and she desperately wants to let go. “Georgie, please,” she begs, the desperation clear in her voice. “I’m all yours, only yours please. Only want you, George. Please, please, let me cum.”

“Fuck that’s right, Y/N. You’re mine,” George growls. “Forever. Understand that? No one’s ever going to touch you or kiss you or fuck you ever again. Just me, only me. Go on then, baby. Be a good girl and cum all over my cock.”

Y/N cries out George’s name as she cums, her whole body shaking as pleasure courses through her. She collapses against the bed as her chest heaves with heavy pants, her body feeling like it’s floating. George’s hips have started to stutter as his own orgasm approaches, and Y/N clenches around him to help bring him to his climax. “Fill me up George, please. Claim me, make me yours forever.”

“Fucking hell, baby.” George collapses against Y/N’s back as he cums, his orgasm rocketing through his body. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum this hard before, and his hips slowly roll as he twitches inside of Y/N. Once he’s finished releasing inside of her George slowly pulls out and collapses on the bed next to Y/N. Silent tears are still rolling down her cheeks and George immediately pulls her into his chest. “I went too far didn’t I? Fuck I’m so sorry Y/N.”

Y/N sniffles as George starts to stroke her hair and press soft kisses all over her face. “They’re good tears Georgie I promise. It was incredible, honestly, love.”

George wipes away a few of the tears before he pulls Y/N in for a passionate kiss. Their lips move together slowly, and George starts to gently rub her back. “I would never be able to forgive myself if I hurt you. I love you, Y/N, so much.”

“I love you too, Georgie. Forever, yeah?”

George pulls Y/N closer to his body and kisses the top of her forehead, praying that the anger he still feels in his chest goes away. “Forever.”

Despite the fact that George had promised her forever that night, Y/N can’t help but feel that they’re starting to drift apart. With their lifetime Quidditch ban in full effect, George and Fred have started to put even more time into their Weasley products and Y/N feels like she barely sees George anymore. He still walks her to class holding her hand tightly and he’s always sure to remind her that he loves her, but they no longer eat meals together and Y/N can’t remember the last time George begged her to skive off her homework to fool around in the room of requirement. But she’s happy that he’s found something to put his extra time into, so she doesn’t think too much is wrong until George misses their next Saturday morning meeting.

“What’s wrong?” Adrian asks as Y/N slumps over to the Slytherin table. Most Saturdays Y/N’s friends don’t see her until lunch time, so they’re all surprised as she falls into her seat next to Adrian.

Y/N sighs and starts to put random food onto her plate, not really feeling like eating. “George never showed this morning. We were supposed to meet in the room of requirement and I just sat there for thirty minutes feeling like an idiot.”

“You mean your prince charming stood you up? Guess things aren’t as happy in the kingdom as they seem,” Marcus teases. Daphne smacks him upside the head, prompting him to frown. “I was just trying to make her smile Daph no need to try and take my head off.”

“You’re an idiot, Marcus,” Daphne scolds before turning her attention back to Y/N. “I thought something was up with you guys, but I didn’t want to say anything. I feel like I’ve barely seen you two together this past week. George is usually always hovering around you, I mean he practically worships the ground you walk on. You guys get into a fight or something?”

Y/N shrugs, picking at her muffin. “He was pretty pissed after what happened last weekend at the Quidditch match. When Adrian was trying to hold me back from going over there he thought we were hugging or something. I don’t know, he was really angry though. But I thought we uh, worked it out if you get what I mean. But clearly not.”

“What a git. He managed to score the hottest girl in school and yet he still managed to fuck it up,” Adrian murmurs, putting his arm around Y/N’s middle. “You deserve better than him, Y/N.”

Y/N rests her head against Adrian’s shoulder and sighs. “He’s all I’ve ever wanted. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Don’t look now,” Daphne whispers, leaning over the table. “He just walked in with Fred, act natural.”

Y/N ruffles Adrian’s hair as she sits up, trying to pretend that she can’t feel George’s eyes starting at the back of her head.

George slams his quill down on the table, running his hand through his hair. “Fucking bullshit. No matter how many times I calculate it the numbers just don’t match up.”

“Will you chill out? It’s not that big of a deal we can work on that shit later,” Fred urges, watching George carefully. “What’s got your panties in a twist lately? I’ve never seen you this worked up.”

It’s Saturday afternoon, and Fred and George are tucked away in a corner of the common room, working on stuff for their joke shop. George has been trying to work on an input output expense sheet, but all of the numbers keep blurring together and he can’t seem to figure out how to make them balance. It probably has something to do with the fact that things between him and Y/N aren’t quite right, but he doesn’t want to think about that.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” George says flatly, looking back over the sheet in front of him.

Fred sighs and leans back in his seat. “You’re a shit liar, you know that? And I do have eyes, you know. Something’s going on with you and Y/N and you’re clearly upset about it. And I’m not going to stop asking about it until you tell me so just spill it so we can get back to work.”

“I’ve just been so angry with her lately, like constantly. Every time I’m around her it just flares up in my chest and I have this urge to just, I dunno. Yell at her.” George pauses. “I mean did you see the way he was touching her today? I wanted to storm over there and rip him away.”

Fred knits his eyebrows together. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Adrian,” George clarifies, his voice dark. “He’s always touching her, and Y/N just lets him. Even though she knows how I feel about him. Did you know I had to beg her to wear my Quidditch jumper to the game last week? And do you know why? Because she always wears Adrian’s,” he mocks. “I’m her bloody boyfriend and I had to beg her not to wear another guys jumper, it’s ridiculous.”

Fred reaches out and puts a comforting hand on George’s shoulder. “You’re my brother and I care about you, please try and remember that as I say the next thing. You’re a fucking idiot, George. I know I’m not Y/N’s biggest fan, but it’s clear that she cares about you. The way that she looks at you George, even when you’re not paying attention it’s like you’re the only thing in the world she cares about. I don’t think she means any harm when she’s like that with Adrian and deep down you know that too. I mean they’ve always been like that. Remember when you guys got detention before you were together? He showed up to walk her back to the common room and he gave her a piggyback ride. It’s not like they’ve just started being close. I don’t think I ever saw her away from Adrian or any of her friends until you guys started dating. Whatever you’re feeling is all in your head.”

“It doesn’t feel all in my head. The way he looks at her, it’s not the way someone looks at a person who’s just a friend,” George insists.

Fred rolls his eyes. “Okay so say Adrian does have feeling for Y/N. He’s clearly very deep in the friend zone. We all heard you guys last weekend, screaming about how she’s yours forever or whatever. Nearly made me throw up in my mouth, mate.”

George punches Fred’s shoulder lightly. “Fuck off. Y/N said the same thing but-“

“See! There you go,” Fred interjects, cutting George off. “Y/N said it herself. She’s in love with you, not Adrian. So, stop being an idiot and go apologize to her before she realizes what a dolt you are and ends it for good.”

George does leave the common room then, fully intending to go and see Y/N. He still feels angry deep in his chest, but his need to be close to her overwhelms all of it. That is until he finds Y/N in the library, her head titled back in a laugh at something Adrian has said. The anger in George’s chest flares as she pushes him playfully, a wide smile on her face that’s usually reserved for George.

Y/N can tell something has gone wrong, when there’s no Weasley’s in attendance at breakfast on Monday morning. They had all been a dinner the night before, and one Weasley not being around is perfectly normal. Even two being absent is normal if it’s Fred and George. But all four of them is unheard of, especially when Harry never shows up for breakfast either. She tries to keep herself calm, thinking that maybe they’re just doing something for the DA or planning some revenge on Umbridge. But when lunch comes around and Y/N has yet to see George or Fred in class and there hasn’t been a single streak of red hair floating around the halls, Y/N makes a beeline for the Gryffindor table where Hermione is sitting alone.

“Hey, what’s going on? Where’s George and everyone else. I haven’t seen them since dinner last night,” Y/N asks as she takes a seat next to Hermione. When Hermione finally looks at Y/N there’s a worried expression on her features and it makes Y/N’s stomach drop.

“George didn’t owl you?” When Y/N shakes her head, Hermione leans forward to whisper in her ear. “I can’t say too much, Dumbledore’s orders. But something happened and Mr. Weasley was badly injured, he’s in St. Mungo’s. George and the rest of the Weasley’s along with Harry took a portkey home last night, Dumbledore gave them all permission to start winter break a few days early.”

Y/N frowns, a mixture of emotions flowing through her body. On one hand she’s worried about George’s dad and how he’s coping with everything. And on the other she’s hurt that George didn’t feel comfortable enough to reach out to her and tell her what’s going on. Y/N had hoped they could make things right before being a part for two weeks, but it seems that the wedge between them is only being pushed farther and farther apart.

“Is he going to be okay? Mr. Weasley? God George must be freaking out.”

Hermione shrugs. “I haven’t heard anything yet, Harry sent an owl when they got to their destination last night. They hadn’t heard much yet, but I’m sure he’s in good hands at St. Mungos. And I’m sure George will reach out soon, Y/N. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Y/N gives Hermione a small smile before she goes to join her friends, a pit of despair growing in her stomach.

“It’s Christmas eve, Y/N. You’ve been held up in your room sending letters all break, can’t you give it a rest for a few days? I’m sure Daphne or Adrian will understand if they don’t get any letters from you for a bit,” Y/N’s mother says, reaching over to grab the quill from her hand.

It’s been a week since George’s father was attacked, and Y/N has been sending him letters nearly nonstop without hearing anything in return. Her owl always comes back with an empty beak, so she knows he’s been getting the letters, and her heart hurts every time he doesn’t respond. She just wants to know if he’s okay, if there’s anything she can do for him. Y/N knows she’s been ignoring her parents a little too much, but she can’t think about anything except for George.

“I’m not writing to Daphne or Adrian,” Y/N huffs, finally looking up at her parents. They’re sitting at the table having lunch together, or at least her parents are. Y/N’s owl had turned up without a response from George just before food was ready, and Y/N wants to send another to him as soon as possible.

“Well then who have you been writing too?” her father asks. “I don’t think I’ve seen you write this much in your entire life.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, a pink blush appearing on her cheeks. “George Weasley,” she mumbles, looking away.

“George Weasley? Y/N whatever prank that boy pulled on you can be dealt with when you get back to school. There’s no need to be going on and on with him over break,” her mother tuts with a shake of her head.

Y/N’s parents have spent much of their time over the past few years listening to Y/N complain endlessly about both Weasley Twins, so it doesn’t surprise her that her mother thinks her letters to George are out of anger instead of love. Especially since she’s yet to tell them about their relationship.

“Actually, George is my, um. He’s my boyfriend,” Y/N mutters, sheepishly looking back at her parents. They both look shocked and she rolls her eyes. “Don’t look so surprised, I’m a great catch, of course I have a boyfriend.”

Y/N’s father laughs. “Sweetie we’re not shocked that you have a boyfriend, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world of course. But I’m going to be honest, George Weasley is the last person I thought you’d end up with. Last we heard you hated the very sight of him.”

“Well not anymore. I love him, so much. He’s been going through some stuff recently and I just want to make sure he’s okay,” Y/N explains. She makes sure to leave out the part that she thinks he’s going to break up with her when they get back to school, since she’d much rather ignore that for now. “Can I just finish this one letter, please? And then I won’t send another until boxing day, I promise.”

Her mother sighs and reluctantly hands her back the quill. “Fine, just one more letter. But seriously no more until boxing day. Not only is it the holidays but your poor owl needs a few days to rest.”

“You should write her back you know,” Ginny comments as she sits down next to George.

George hums, gripping Y/N’s most recent letter in his hands. His chest aches at how sad she sounds, but he can’t bring himself to pick up a quill and write her back. “I don’t know what to say.”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “How about I’m a big fat idiot and the second I see you again I’m going to fall to my knees and beg for your forgiveness? That’s probably a good place to start.”

“Dunno why I have to be the one to apologize,” he mutters, wincing when Ginny smacks him upside the head. “What the hell was that for, Gin?”

“For you continuing to be a big fat idiot,” Ginny spits. “You’ve been acting like a huge asshole to her lately George that’s why you need to apologize. It only takes a person with half a brain to see how you’ve been pushing her away. So cut the crap. Either apologize to Y/N and beg for her forgiveness or break it off.”

The thought of breaking up with Y/N makes his stomach lurch. There’s no doubt in his mind that he wants to be with her, but it feels like he doesn’t know how to anymore. It seems that whenever Y/N is around Adrian is right there too, and it makes anger flare up in his chest. He knows it’s not rational, but it doesn’t make it any easier to stop feeling that way. George wants Y/N all to himself, as selfish as that may be.

“She’s probably gonna break up with me, so I don’t see the point.” George tosses the letter in his hands onto the coffee table and leans back against the couch. “Who knew being in a relationship would be so difficult?”

“It wouldn’t be so difficult if you just talked to her, git,” Ginny points out. “She’s written you a letter practically every day of break, obviously she cares about you and is worried about you.” Ginny pauses so George will look over at her. “What’s wrong anyway? Thought you guys were doing okay?”

George shrugs. “I can’t stand Adrian and his smug fucking face. He’s just there. Always. Watching her, trying to get close with her. And Y/N just sits there and lets him. You know I caught them together in the library a few nights before Dad was attacked.”

Ginny’s jaw drops. “You caught them hooking up?”

“What? No. They were doing homework,” George explains.

Ginny punches George in the thigh as hard as she can. “You’re a fucking moron, George. Since when is doing homework in the library someone cheating? Or a reason to get mad?”

“It wasn’t just the fact that they were doing homework. They were sitting next to each other and he was making her laugh,” George huffs, as if Ginny is the one being unreasonable.

“You’re joking, right?” When George doesn’t say anything, Ginny rolls her eyes. “Since when are you this insecure, George? Y/N is crazy about you. And Adrian is her friend, of course he’s gonna be around.” She bites her lip. “I think you’ve been putting too much thought into this George.”

George sits there for a moment, letting Ginny’s words sink in. Perhaps he has been getting a bit ahead of himself. Something about seeing Y/N with Adrian when he was so worked up over what Draco had been saying must have twisted something in his mind. He had felt jealous about Adrian before that, but never in a way that made him question his relationship with Y/N. Usually all it takes is one look from Y/N and all of his ill thoughts flush away. But lately it seems nothing can calm him down. He’s been putting distance between them in the hopes that his anger would finally go away, but as soon as it feels like he’s back to normal the second Y/N is in his vicinity with Adrian it all comes rushing back.

“I think I have been too,” he admits quietly. “It doesn’t feel real, sometimes. That Y/N is actually mine. I thought I only started developing feelings for her this year, but I think I’ve felt things for her for a while, I was just too stubborn to realize it. And now that I have her I want her all to myself. Like if I share her with other people she might just disappear from my life completely.”

Ginny reaches out to pat George on the shoulder. “Then tell her all of that, George. Because it’s actually kind of sweet in a weird way. Y/N loves you, George. And I know you love her. I don’t want to see either of you get hurt because you don’t have the balls to just talk to your girlfriend.”

“What a pep talk you give, Gin,” George chuckles. “But you’re right. I’m gonna talk to her, first chance I get. This is too much to put into a letter. I wanna be able to look at her while I talk to her.”

“Great. Now will you stop being so miserable? It’s really killing the Christmas spirit,” Ginny teases, ruffling his hair.

“Are things with George getting any better?” Daphne asks from her spot on Y/N’s bed. Her parents had decided to do some traveling in the new year, and Y/N’s parents allowed Daphne to finish up the last few days of break at their house.

Y/N shakes her head, flopping down next to her. “Nope. I haven’t heard a thing all break. Every time Aries comes back his beak is empty. So, he’s clearly reading my letters and he can’t be bothered to write back.”

Daphne puts her arm around Y/N and tosses the copy of Witch Weekly she’d been reading off of the bed. “What a fucking prick. I haven’t said much about it because I love you and you’re my best friend and I know he means a lot to you, but Adrian was right. You do deserve better, Y/N. Your boyfriend should be worshiping you, not ignoring you.”

Y/N hadn’t told anyone about George’s dad, and she’s sure he’d get a bit more sympathy from Daphne if she knew, but if Hermione couldn’t even tell her how his Dad got hurt Y/N is sure she shouldn’t tell anyone about it at all. And besides, Hermione had owled the day after Christmas to let her know that Mr. Weasley was home and recovering well. George’s lack of communication cut Y/N deeper after hearing that.

“I think he’s going to break up with me,” Y/N admits out loud for the first time, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I love him so much and I thought he loved me too, but I don’t know. It’s like overnight things changed between us and I’m the only one trying to fix it.”

Daphne pulls Y/N in tight and hugs her. “This is the second time you’ve cried over George being an asshat and my offer still stands. I will have Adrian and Marcus beat him up.”

“The last time I cried over George he was only being an asshat in my head. But now, I’m sure he’s being an asshat in real life too,” Y/N sniffles. “God I wish break lasted just a little bit longer. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I see him on that stupid train tomorrow.”

Daphne starts to stroke Y/N’s hair and wipes away a few of her tears. “Well just say the word and I’ll have Adrian and Marcus on him before he can even say Quidditch.”

When Y/N and Daphne get on platform 9 ¾ the next morning George’s shock of red hair is the first thing she sees. She forces herself to stay focused on her parents as they say goodbye, no matter how badly she wants to look over at him. Her heart feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest, and all she really wants to do is sneak onto the train and to her friends without running into any Weasley. But of course, the second she’s on the train she walks smack into a hard, familiar chest.

“Trying to mow me down?” George teases, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist.

It reminds Y/N of when they were still dancing around each other, too scared to admit their feelings, and it punches a hole in her chest. “Hi, George.” Y/N pushes away from him and starts to walk away, but George’s hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her back towards him. “What?” she asks flatly, looking up at him. Her eyes catch something shiny stuck to the scarf he’s wearing, and Y/N bites her lip to keep from smiling. “You got your Christmas present I see.”

She had wanted to get him something big and flashy for their first Christmas together. But everything she considered just didn’t seem special or sentimental enough. She had found it in some muggle store in London while shopping with her Mum, and even though it was tiny and simple, it was the perfect thing. It’s a little enamel pin in the shape of a teapot. The hours she spent with George scrubbing teapots is the foundation of their relationship, it was after that night that she first started falling in love with him.

George bites his lip and reaches out to cup her cheek. “I was an asshole to you. And you have every right to be super mad at me. But can we go talk somewhere, please?”

Y/N nods and lets George grab her hand and take her over to an empty compartment. It’s clear to her that she and George have some issues they need to work out, but she’s happy to just enjoy some time with him for now. They haven’t been alone together in nearly three weeks, and she’s been dying for his attention. She takes a seat as George closes the door behind them and pulls him down next to her once he’s close enough.

“I have a lot of things to say and I don’t know if they’re going to come out right so please just stick with me while I try and say them, okay?” George takes a deep breath and reaches out to grab Y/N’s hands in his. “I’ve missed you so much these past few weeks, even before break. I think Draco knocked something loose in my head when he punched me, I’ve just been so angry since that day, and I don’t really know why. Just seeing you and Adrian together fills me with rage. And I know it shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t know what I would do without you. I just kept getting in my head about everything and it made me not treat you the best. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Then why push me away, George? Why not answer one of my stupid letters? I’ve been losing my mind here, trying to figure out what’s going on in that head of yours. I meant what I said that night, I’m yours forever, Weasley.”

George sighs and leans down to press a lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “I started over analyzing everything and I couldn’t tell what was real and what was going on in my head. You mean so much to me, and the thought of losing you made me go even crazier.” George pauses so he can tuck a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear. “I should have written to you and at least let you know I was okay, I’m sorry for that. But this is a conversation I didn’t want to have in a letter. I wanted to be able to see you and hold you.”

“It’s okay, George. I guess when we started dating there was some stuff we should have talked about that we kind of just ignored and that’s partially my fault. I just tried to integrate you into my life that already existed, when in reality we should have started something new together,” Y/N explains, squeezing his hands. “Adrian and I are closer than normal friends, and I can see why that would concern you. Same thing with the sweater. Of course, you’d want me to wear yours, I shouldn’t have even questioned it. I’m sorry, George. I’ll try and do better too, okay? Because I love you and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I love you so, so much. And I’ve been really shit at showing it. I meant what I said that night too, Y/N. Forever.” George leans down and presses a soft kiss to her lips, melting when she returns it. “I don’t deserve you.” George kisses her again, winding his arms around her. “Alright, I think now is the perfect time to give you your Christmas present.”

Y/N holds her hands out, bouncing up and down excitedly. “Come on then, let’s see what you got me!”

George rolls his eyes playfully and takes a long black box out of his jacket pocket. “I do want to preface this by saying that I bought this ages ago before I got your present in the mail, and they do say great minds think alike.”

“You got me a tea pot pin too?” she teases, taking the box from George. A quiet gasp leaves her lips as she opens the box, and she gives George a small smile. “George it’s perfect.” Inside the box is a delicate silver chain with two charms attached. One is in the shape of the letter G and the other is a teapot. “Although I find it quite funny that we both got each other teapot related items.”

“Well that’s the night it all began, isn’t it?” George ask as he takes the box from Y/N. He grabs the necklace and motions for her to turn around so he can put it on her. “After that detention I knew I couldn’t live without you, Y/N. Listening to you talk about wanting to be a healer, and how you wanted to change the world, it made me see you differently. Made me start to fall in love with you. Besides I don’t think I could find a charm of a secret passageway.”

Y/N giggles, and as soon as the necklace is on Y/N turns around and pulls George into a kiss, her hand coming up to grip the charms tightly. When George starts to pull away Y/N surges forward to keep their lips pressed together for a few extra moments. “I love you, George. Thank you.”

“Course, darling. Anything for you.” George pulls Y/N into his chest and presses a kiss to the top of her head, the anger he’s felt for so long finally quieting down.

#George weasley #George Weasley imagine #George weasley smut #gw #golden

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imkylotrash · 3 years

Text

Found A Lover

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

Request: They are soulmates but Saul is stubborn (all the angst) and refuses to accept the bond until reader gets hurt and we get an epic love confession. @kingunder221b And She's close to graduation. Her friend, also a fairy, is really into potions, he's brilliant at that. He hides his stuff in her room and something goes wrong with his last potion. The reader is hurt and it's like in a fairy tale, she falls asleep. The difference is, she's trapped in one big nightmare and her heart will give up if they don't find a solution. They try everything, even go to Dowling, but nothing helps. The only option left is true love kiss, so they go to Silva. Anonymous

A/N Italics are the nightmares and I tried going for a little bit of a horror theme though nothing too bad. They can be skipped if that’s not your thing. I’m not sure if any of this falls under trigger warnings but please let me know if you want something added 💛

Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @estelmei @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @artsyle @baueoud @glowingatdawn @shadowhuntyi

There’s no denying it though Saul tries very hard to. His soulmate is not a student at the school. He refuses to believe his own eyes as you hold out your arm with the exact same scar as his. Same shape, same placement, same everything.

“This is a mistake,” he says making it seem as though it’s somehow your fault that the universe decided that the two of you would be right for each other.

“With that reaction I’m not exactly too fond either,” you sneer upset that he so willingly disregards you. All your life, you’d listened to people finding their soulmate and falling head over heels in love within seconds. Like they’ve been walking around blind and now they can finally see. That’s what you expected when you found your soulmate - not a grumpy old man desperate to get as far away from you as possible.

“We should keep this information to ourselves for now,” he says and you couldn’t agree more. Why would you want to tell everyone that your soulmate refuses to acknowledge your bond? What Saul doesn’t tell you is just how terrified he is finally having found his soulmate. He’d made peace with the fact that he’d spend life alone. He’s terrified that you’re so young compared to him and that he won’t be able to give you everything that you want. He’s already raised Sky and he’s not eager to think about doing that again. The best action for him is staying away and allowing you to fall in love with someone who can be what you need. It’s just not how this soulmate thing works.

Upset from his rejection, you run straight to Logan’s room hoping he’ll be back soon so you can cry on his shoulder. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to tell him what happened but you know he won’t push you if you don’t want to talk. He doesn’t get there in time though. You have no way of knowing that the book you grab to inspect as you wait is actually a secret storage box. The weight surprises you and it slams onto the floor. Something breaks inside the book which confuses you even more. When does books contain glass. When you open the lid, a weird dust spreads making you cough violently. Your eyes water as you struggle to breathe. Within seconds, you’re lying on the floor looking as if you’re blissfully asleep.

“Y/N!” Logan runs over to shake you awake but he knows it’s no good when he sees the smashed bottle. Without wasting another minute, he runs right out the door to find Mr. Harvey leaving you to your own worst nightmare.

“Hello,” you call out walking down the empty hallway. It feels like you’re underground but you can’t be sure without finding a window so you keep walking. The first thing you notice when you enter the new room is the blood soaking your slippers. The white bunny slippers are now red and you feel like you might be sick.

“Hello,” you call out once more hoping someone will hear you.

“Hello,” someone says in a mocking tone. You spin around to find yourself standing there? Is it a mirror of some kind?

“I’m not a mirror, you idiot. I’m you,” it says carelessly throwing a knife into the air and catching it again, “but without all the weaknesses.” You want to scream but suddenly, your mouth is sewn shut. When you reach up to touch it, you feel the thread closing your lips together.

“I figured that was the easiest way to keep you from yelling. God, do you ever shut up?” The thing takes a few stops closer to you still clutching the knife in their hand.

“Sorry. That was a very dentist move of me, wasn’t it? Asking you a question knowing full-well that you can’t answer.” You must’ve sprouted roots because there’s no way you’d still be standing there if you were able to move. Carefully, the copycat lifts the knife to your mouth letting the tip of the blade run across the thick thread.

“Poor thing, huh? Not even your soulmate wants you. It’s sort of like mommy and daddy all over.”

Your body is being transferred to Mr. Harvey’s office as well as the powder you inhaled. Logan knows exactly what potion it is but there’s no cure in the records. No cure to wake you up and it’s all his fault for not storing the potions correctly. He knew he should’ve kept them under lock and key but half the stuff in his room, he wasn’t even supposed to have.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Harvey. I never thought anyone would get hurt.” He looks down at his best friend lying on the table and he swears he’ll never be so careless with potions ever again.

“It’ll do you no good to dwell on that now. We need all hands on deck to figure out how to wake her up again.” What he doesn’t mention is the fact that he’s not sure how much time your heart has left before it stops entirely. The stress it’s being put under is nothing like Mr. Harvey has ever seen before.

“Fight, Y/N,” Logan whispers.

You want to scream at yourself for bringing up mom and dad but you can’t. The knife comes to rest on your throat so that every time, you take a breath you feel the cold blade on your skin.

“Should I be quick or slow? What do you prefer?” Once again, you try to scream but to no avail. The first cut takes you by surprise. When the copy of you brings the knife down to your chest, you get worried. Could you really kill yourself like this?

“Blink once for quick, twice for slow.” You blink once waiting for it to be over. You don’t know why you’ve given up so easily or why you not even for a second think to use your magic but you just don’t have a fight in you.

“Perfect.” The blade pierces your skin until it reaches your heart. You feel the heart beating faster in an attempt to persevere but it is futile.

“I’ve tried everything, Farah. Every solution the greenhouse has to offer and nothing works.” Three days pass with Harvey working hard to reverse the potion’s effects but nothing helps. You stay asleep and your heart continues to beat itself to death.

“Do we know who their soulmate is? We should probably inform them,” Ms. Dowling says bringing out a vague memory in Logan’s mind. He runs straight to the library hoping his theory is right.

“Is everything okay?” He looks up to find Mr. Silva standing there.

“Y/N is hurt. I’m trying to find a cure,” Logan says grabbing the book and running straight back to Mr. Harvey but this time Mr. Silva is right behind him.

“True love’s kiss!” Logan exclaims finding the fairy tale in the book from Earth. He shows it to Mr. Harvey and Ms. Dowling who scans over the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty.

“Then we must find her soulmate,” Mr. Harvey says and while Logan knows it’s true, he also knows you haven’t found your soulmate yet. He’s about to open his mouth when Saul beats him to it.

“I’m their soulmate. We just found out a couple of days ago.” He was so scared when he found out he was your soulmate but watching you lie on that table he knows he can’t let anything happen to you. It’s the reason he leans in and places a gentle kiss on your lips. The effect is almost instantly. You open your eyes very confused and terrified out of your mind. Is this another nightmare?

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” Saul whispers holding your hand tightly. You don’t need words as you look into each other’s eyes. The love is evident even if Saul tried to run from it. Seeing you in pain like this had awoken something inside of him and he swore from that day on that he’d always protect you.

#saul silva imagine #saul silva gif #saul silva blurb #saul silva x reader #saul silva #fate the winx club #fate the winx saga #fate winx club #winx saga #winx club #fate winx #fate #fate netflix #ftws blurb #ftws imagine #ftws #winx saul silva

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mygodyouredivine · 3 years

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The Hell in Your Eyes - 1

Summary: Loki doesn't meet her until two weeks after his initial imprisonment, but he knows he hates her. He has to hate her. Because the way she talks to him and helps him and saves him meals can't mean anything. She is too soft to deal with Loki, who is hardened with pain, pain, and more pain. And Loki hates soft things.

Have you ever seen the hell in someone’s eyes and loved it anyway?

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: mild mentions of violence, mild blood

Word Count: 3122

Next Chapter

Loki doesn’t meet her until two weeks after moving into his new prison.

In fact, he’s slightly confused as to how this mortal has escaped his notice — not that she is even remotely worthy of his scrutiny, but he distinctly remembered conducting a mental count of the tower’s inhabitants, one she is obviously missing from. Loki was quite confident he knew of every single person’s existence within his prison walls, yet here he is, staring at a mortal whom he’s never laid eyes upon, and it unnerves him.

Loki is not scared of anything, but he prefers to be aware of his enemies.

His gaze is wary as he stares down the unfamiliar face, memorizing the way her hair frames her face, the way her eyebrows are slightly raised, and her eyes, which are meeting his own with a mix of surprise, defiance, and a tint of fear. He grins.

Ah, never quite without the fear.

But then her attention moves past him and focuses on his brother — typical — and Loki’s grin falls. Thor is standing besides Loki, just recently interrupted from his enthusiastic explanation of what a ‘smoothie’ is. He now sports a ridiculously wide grin and surges forward towards the unknown woman. His shoulder rams into Loki’s, pushing him out of the way in his haste to greet her.

Loki decides he despises her.

“Angel!” comes Thor’s booming shout, his voice altogether too happy, too enthusiastic, too loud . He sweeps the woman — Angel — into a warm embrace. Loki snorts derisively, noting the girl’s chipped nails, painted a crude shade of black, the oversized, undignified shirt she sports, and the atrocious mop of hair sitting atop her head. He is utterly unimpressed.

“Ow Thor, you’re crushing my ribs.”

Her voice is bothersome, altogether too scratchy and too rough and too hoarse. She sounds like she just woke up. Every word she says grates upon his nerves, fueling his dislike. Loki wishes she would drink some water, if only to soothe his growing irritation.

His brother releases her, and she takes a couple of steps back, smoothing down her hair. Her fingers are entangled in the ends, and she pulls on them with the impatience of a child. Still grinning at Thor, she continues.

“What are you doing up so early?” she inquires. “I know for a fact you don’t have to train in the mornings to maintain your stupid godly body.”

As Thor’s booming laughter once again echoes throughout the room, Loki cannot help but roll his eyes. Pathetic . Just another airheaded girl infatuated with his oh-so-righteous golden brother. At this point, Loki doesn’t even feel disappointment. This is to be expected, after all. Thor is the one who is a hero. Thor is part of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Thor helped save humanity — against Loki no less. Thor never tried to subjugate New York, nevermind that Loki’s mind hadn’t been his own, that his body was hastily reconstructed, that —

“Good morning to you too my lady! I was just here with Loki, teaching him how to make smoothies. With — what do you call this? Ah, a blendifier.”

Thor’s voice is softer than Loki is used to, and in this moment he decides that he hates his brother’s voice much more than he hates this useless mortal’s. He drowns out the rest of their conversation, idly wondering if he can slip away while his brother is distracted. Perhaps he could get back to his reading; Midgard’s literature is undoubtedly inferior to Asgard’s but also infinitely more engaging than concocting whatever a ‘smoothie’ is supposed to be.

His train of thought is interrupted by Thor calling out his name.

“Oh, but you haven’t met!” Thor turns towards Loki — seemingly just remembering that Loki is in the room — and motions towards the girl.

“Loki, this is [Y/n], and my lady, this is Loki, my brother, the one I’ve told you about.”

Loki wonders what Thor has told her about him. Surely, if his previous activities on Midgard haven't spoken clearly enough, whatever narration of their childhood tainted with Thor’s tongue should have sufficiently warned her of himself.

But the mortal woman surprises him. She sticks out her hand and offers him a handshake. Hesitantly, he takes her hand and shakes once, firmly, then quickly releases her. Her hands are warm and soft — much unlike his. He wonders if they too can become as calloused as his own. Perhaps if she was forced to endure what he had. He doubts she has ever even felt a flicker of pain. No, pain hardens. She cannot have felt pain because pain is relentless and beautiful and pain is cruel and glorious and because with pain either you embrace it or you break and she is too soft to have felt pain.

Loki doesn’t like soft things.

“Hey Loki. I’m [Y/n] but everyone just calls me Angel. Or Angie if you prefer. It’s nice to finally meet you. ” Her voice doesn’t waver, but Loki can detect the underlying unease present. He doesn't, however, detect a lie. How interesting.

“Pleasure,” he deadpans, lip curing into a sneer. Thor frowns, his brother quickly moving between them, shielding her from Loki. Loki scoffs. As if he could do anything to her. Loki could not so much as breathe without permission. Here, Loki was at the complete mercy of his brother, the pitiful Avengers, and now this drowsy looking, disheveled Midgardian.

Loki almost laughs. Oh how far he’s fallen.

Thankfully, his interaction with the girl — Angel — seems to be over. She turns away from him, once again addressing his brother.

“Just remember when using the blender — not blendifier — to be careful. Make sure your hand is nowhere near the blades when you turn it on, and clean it with a sponge. Or just rinse it out and put it in the dishwasher. You know how the dishwasher works, yeah?” Her eyes are filled with sincerity and adoration and Loki hates it. For a brief moment, he entertains the thought of shoving Thor’s head into the blender. He doubts it would fit.

His brother beams at her. “Do not worry my lady. I know how to use the blendifier. Even if the blades were to attack my fingers, I assure you my Asgardian strength would protect me.” Loki is fairly sure the blades could take out a sizable chunk of Thor’s hands. The temptation to test out his theory rises again, and he stomps it down.

Thor is just as boastful as ever, never ignoring a chance to show off in front of others. Thor hasn’t changed a bit. Thor is still the completed, whole reflection of himself while Loki is just broken fragments. It isn’t fair. Oh but when has life — the cursed thing — ever been fair to Loki? His irritation grows and his hands clench, his fingernails digging into his palms. Pain. Pain is comforting to Loki. Loki knows pain and he likes it.

“Sure, sure. I know your stupid godly genes will protect you or whatever, but just be careful. I’m pretty sure you still bleed, and blood smoothies really aren’t all that appetizing.” She looks at Loki then, her eyes glinting mischievously, and winks. “Unless, of course, you volunteer to clean up as well, because I sure as hell know we don’t want to scrub your bloodstains off these counters.”

Loki isn’t quite sure how to react, but his fists loosen.

She’s soft and weak and mortal but she’s also snarky and sarcastic. And Angel is the first person to use ‘we’ and include Loki in a long time. He decides he hates it. He doesn’t wish to be included with these Midgardians under any context. He doesn’t need their pity, their false sympathy. In fact, Loki prefers the venomous looks of the other Avengers much more than whatever trick this woman is spinning. His fingernails once again dig into his palms and he feels the familiar trickle of blood sprouting from his palms.

Angel looks away and turns back to Thor, who offers her a bit of the ‘smoothie’ he has been attempting to make for the past hour. She giggles, a sickly sweet sound that makes Loki’s stomach churn, and pats Thor’s arm.

The blood running from Loki’s fingers drips onto Stark’s expensive, pristine floor.

“Thor, the last time you made smoothies they worked more as laxatives. I’ll pass.” She grins again, and Loki wants nothing more than to wipe that expression off her face. He wonders how she’ll look without the seemingly ever present light on her face. Perhaps her eyes will resemble the dull marbles that stare at Loki every time he looks into a mirror. Her gaze falls upon Loki again, but she refrains from addressing him.

With that, Angel turns and saunters away, her sock covered feet softly padding across the floor. Her socks are mismatched and worn and frayed at the edges.

______________________________

The woman is right. Thor’s smoothie is nothing short of poison and Loki tells him as much.

“This is absolutely atrocious.”

Thor’s eyebrows connect in a comical frown as he takes a sip. His lips pucker and he forces himself to swallow. “I completely disagree, brother! This is just what the Midgardians drink. It’s a part of their culture, something you should get to know well.”

Thor hasn’t changed a bit. He is as stubborn as he ever was. Thor would rather drink the entirety of the brown mush he has made than admit to Loki he was wrong. He wonders how Thor would react to Angel’s criticism.

Thor pats Loki on the back as he motions towards the mess he has made out of the kitchen. Loki knows Thor cannot feel the scar tissue hidden underneath Loki’s clothes, the raised edges and criss-crossed lines. He knows this because he hides it. He doesn’t need anyone, much less Thor, to know of the scars his body carries, and he doubts his brother would care. But Loki wishes Thor wouldn’t use so much force. He disguises a wince under a scowl and steps away.

“Brother, would you mind tidying up? I have a training appointment with the Captain, and I would rather not be late.”

Loki doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t have to. Thor is already walking away from Loki, his steps heavy and confident, so unlike Angel’s. Thor is leaving Loki to clean up his mess, another mess Loki had no part in making, and Loki is once again responsible. For he knows, he doesn’t have a choice. If any of the tower’s inhabitants were to come down and see Loki in the midst of this disaster, he knows they will blame him. Not that it particularly makes a difference, but Loki would prefer less hostility than needed.

With a wave of his hand, his seidr sweeps across the room, erasing any evidence of Thor’s ill-fated attempt at creating something. Loki does a once-over of the room, ensuring everything is returned to its original position, and as he moves to return to his quarters, a flash of red catches his eye.

Ah. His blood on the floor. The blood of a god — frost giant — cannot be as easily removed as the stains left behind in the blender.

Looking around, Loki grasps a sponge and, after again ensuring no one can see him, bends down to begin scrubbing his own blood off the floor. Loki doesn’t like blood. It’s too red and too warm and he knows its rusted smell will follow him throughout the day. He especially despises his own blood. It stains.

In the midst of his undignified scrubbing, Loki detects footsteps. He moves to stand up — quickly, but he is too late. Angel walks back into the kitchen, this time with her hair slightly more tamed and in a ponytail. She looks to have changed from her sleepwear to loungewear, sporting the ridiculously comfortable pants Loki has learned are called sweatpants and a shorter, cropped top. Her socks are still mismatched.

She looks at Loki, and with a start he realizes he is still on the ground. Loki Laufeyson is on his knees before a mortal, in the midst of wiping away his own blood from the floor.

Damn.

His throat tightens as he feels his anger rising, pulsating throughout his entire body. He scorches her with a glare, daring her to comment on his situation. He swears, Norns be damned, he will kill her. Regardless of the consequences, he will kill her if she says anything. Loki doesn’t care if he is condemned to spend another century on Midgard as penance, he will silence her. He opens his mouth, about to make his threat clear, but she speaks first.

“Well. I told Thor he would bleed. Did the big idiot leave you to clean up his mess?” She tilts her head at Loki, and he hates the way she is still looking down at him, hates the way one of her hands are on her hips, hates the way he can see a sliver of skin peeking out from between her clothes. “I specifically told him we wouldn’t clean up his blood.”

Loki bites down his retort. Angel doesn’t sound mocking, but rather sympathetic. He doesn’t need sympathy from a mortal. He finally rises and approaches her, looming over her smaller frame. “Get out,” he says, voice halfway between a whisper and a rasp. “There is no ‘we’ with you and I, and you will do well to remember that.”

Angel holds his glare for a second, but then turns away, and Loki waits for her to flee. Instead, she grabs the soap sitting next to the sink and holds it out to Loki. “Alright then, Your Highness. Have fun.”

Loki’s hand reaches towards the soap and his fingers brush hers. Her fingers are soft, just like her hands, and Loki wonders if her soul is as fragile as her physical body. Loki hates soft things.

With that, Angel leaves the kitchen a second time, and Loki is left to wipe his own blood off the floor, alone.

______________________________

He can’t get her out of his head.

The woman who was so damnably soft occupies Loki’s thoughts and he hates it. He hates how he can perfectly recall the color of her eyes, her scent, the way her skin felt against his own. He hates how she saw him kneeling on the floor.

Loki is sitting on his bed, just after rejecting Thor’s persistent invitations to go down to dinner. Thor insists it’s ‘bonding time,’ that ‘all are welcome,’ and ‘everyone would love to see him there!’ Loki isn’t an idiot. He knows what the others say about him. They don’t realize that Loki can hear their hostile whispers from across the room — and even if they did, Loki doubts they would stop.

His mind wanders back to the girl. Would she join in on their gossip? Do they trust her? Who is she?

Thor had seemed familiar and friendly with Angel, but Loki knew nothing of her. He could detect no magical presence surrounding her, and she did not look as toned or threatening as the Widow. From all he could gather, she had no place here. Yet, she was obviously a welcome occupant of the tower. Loki was intrigued, and he felt a begrudging curiosity surrounding her grow.

What was her history? Why wasn’t she here when he arrived?

Loki is distracted from his thoughts by his stomach, which alerts him of its discomfort. Loki has not eaten anything since the half sip of Thor’s smoothie, and hunger has begun to fester within himself. But Loki cannot get food yet. No, he must wait until dinner is over until he can go downstairs and snoop through the refrigerator for anything suitable. He has learned that this made everyone more comfortable. The Avengers could pretend he did not live with them, and Loki could avoid the hateful and tense environment that accompanied him wherever he went. Really, the hunger he feels is insignificant. He has dealt with much more, and he knows from experience he can go many moons without sustenance.

It’s past midnight when Loki finally ventures downstairs. He enters the kitchen without a sound and doesn’t bother turning on the lights. Loki had no need for light — he much preferred the darkness anyway. He walks towards the refrigerator, hoping that perhaps he could find some of the takeout left over from last week’s movie night. Ah, but Stark had thrown out the takeout yesterday. Loki just hoped that he could find something fresh then — but not too fresh, in case the others still desired it.

But as Loki opens the refrigerator door, he is surprised. On the top shelf, placed on the left edge, is a plate covered carefully with plastic wrap, a bright green sticky note plastered on top. He isn’t unfamiliar with the practice: reserving leftover dishes as one’s own. He found it childish, really, but he never took anything that was claimed — no unnecessary hostility was needed, and he was familiar with the screaming matches that often took place when claimed items disappeared. What he is unfamiliar with is the name on the sticky note.

Loki , it says, with a crudely drawn illustration of what is unmistakably his horns, followed by a smiley face.

Loki looks around, waiting for whoever had placed this cruel joke to pop out of the darkness and laugh at him, but there is no movement. Eyes narrowed, he scrutinizes the note. It’s not a script he recognizes, and he deduces it must belong to the woman — to Angel.

Carefully, he takes the plate and uncovers it, the smell of the food wafting through the air. Loki recognizes the scent as the dish the Captain made earlier that day. His mouth waters, unwillingly, and Loki cannot recall the last time he consumed food so freshly prepared. His fingers toy with the edges of the plate, debating whether or not to permit himself this pleasure.

He decides that yes, since the woman had clearly set aside food for him, it would be an insult to ignore it. Not that Loki particularly minded insulting his roommates, but again — the less hostility, the better. And if it ends up as part of an elaborate trap, well then Loki can say that he expected it.

He takes the food back to his quarters, and Loki truly enjoys a meal for the first time since he was still a Prince of Asgard.

He hates that he enjoys it.

He hates soft things.

And most of all, he hates Angel.

______________________________

Just because you are soft doesn't mean you are not a force. Honey and wildfire are both the color gold.

- Victoria Erickson

______________________________

Next Chapter

#loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader #loki series #the hell in your eyes #thiye #loki x you #friends to enemies to lovers #reader insert #loki fic

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joshstambourine · 3 years

Text

A Girl Named Ivy

Warning: None! Unless you dislike fluff

Word Count: 2350

Synopsis: Just a cute lazy day with Jake and his little girl

Thank you so much for this request @anditsmywholeheart , I can’t even begin to explain how much joy it brought me to write. Hopefully you love it--- and that you don’t mind that I named her, I find it a lot easier to write when I have names.

Taglist: @anditsmywholeheart @babydxll

Jake let out a weak sigh as he could feel small shifts of weight on the bed. The movements were slow, as if trying not to wake him up. It wasn't long before the shifting stopped and there was soft pattering leading away from the bed. Jake couldn't help but peak his eyes open to see what was happening. He could see a tiny figure standing at the window on the far side of the room. The small figure wore a set of blue floral pajamas, with soft brown hair falling over her shoulders, she was on her tippy toes trying to see outside.

"...Ivy... what are you doing?" Jake called in a groggy manner, which immediately caused the little girls head to turn and look at him.

"Mommies gone again…" she tells him lightly, "I wanted to see her before she left." Ivy admits in a sad tone. It was a rather normal thing for Ivy to check and see if (Y/N)'s car was there in the morning, she still hadn't managed to get herself up early enough despite all of her vows to do so.

Jake couldn't help but smile a little, "Come here sweetie." He tells her, lightly lifting his arm and moving the blanket a touch. Ivy was rather quick to scramble her way back to the side of the bed and climb back up so she could cuddle into Jake's chest.

Jake wraps his arm around her tiny figure giving her a small kiss on the top of her head, "Mommy will be back before you know it. She always is." He whispers against her hair, his hand rubbing her back in a loving way.

"But why does she have to go? You don't have to go away everyday." Ivy points out, wiping her little nose with the back of her hand.

Jake smiles a little, "Well, we have to make money so we can pay for all your toys and clothes." He tells her beginning to twirl her hair around his finger. It always surprised Jake just how much Ivy looked like him; she had his soft brown hair that always sat so sweetly on her shoulders, her eyes… they were the same color as (Y/N)'s but their shape was just like his when he was small.

"Well… I don't need any more toys." Ivy tells him, "Do you think if I tell Mommy that, she'd stay home with me?"

Jake softly laughs pushing her hair away from her face and looking into her eyes. "Maybe… but y'know we can have lots of fun without Mommy here sweetheart."

Ivy pouts a little, "You always say that…" She utters; she may have all of Jake's features but that pout was pure (Y/N).

"Annnnd? Don't we have fun?" He asks her. To which Ivy shakes her head. "No?! What do you mean no?!" Jake quickly responds, a small frown appearing on his lips. "Daddy isn't fun?" She again shook her head. "What?!" Jake quickly says again, hands moving to her sides, "Daddy isn't fun?!" He quickly asks, beginning to tickle Ivy’s sides.

She just as swiftly begins to giggle and try to push his hands away, "S-Stop--!" She giggles, Jake complies and instead pulls her into a tight hug for a moment.

"I think you just don't want to admit that Daddy is more fun than Mommy. It's okay you can tell me…!" Jake whispers by her ear, "I won't tell Mommy." He continues.

Ivy seems to think over this idea for a moment or two before lifting her little hand, "Pinky promise?" She whispers back as if (Y/N) was in the room now.

"Pinky promise." Jake tells her, locking one of his calloused pinkies with hers. They were so small, Jake couldn't help but stare at her tiny hand for a moment. Four years had gone by so fast, it felt like he closed his eyes and when he opened them again Ivy had sprouted up and was preparing to go to kindergarten.

Jake could still remember the first time he got to hold her in his arms… it felt...as if everything in his life had purposefully led up to that exact moment. Jake had tried his best to not let on how big of a deal this was to him to other people; of course, (Y/N) knew.

Just like the moment (Y/N) had told him that she was pregnant… his tough guy façade crumbled, and he became a crying mess. They were happy tears of course… just overwhelmingly happy ones. Jake held the small bundle close to him, "I'm your dad…!" He lightly whispered, to her--- and more importantly to himself. “...I’m your dad.”

Jake immediately bit his lip a little having recalled that very special moment in his life. He refused to cry as he looked down at his little girl who was growing up faster than he ever could have imagined.

"Daddy?" She lightly called him.

"Yes Ivy?" He responds softly, her hands cupping his cheeks.

"You look sad!" She tells him honestly, seeming to have noticed the change in how he looked at her. Jake could never quite grasp just how good kids were at picking up on people's emotions.

Jake shook his head giving her little palms a kiss, "No! I'm not sad, just thinking~" He tells her with a tender smile. "I was thinking about a fun thing we could do today… to surprise Mommy?" He lightly suggests.

"To surprise Mommy?!" Ivy soon beamed, her little cheeks were so cute when she smiled.

Jake nodded, "To surprise Mommy." He hums as she moves to kiss her nose. "What do you think of making cupcakes?"

"Chocolate cupcakes?!" Ivy quickly suggests,

"Is there any other kind?" Jake smiles at her, Ivy quickly sits up and starts to dance a little.

"Come on Daddy!! Let's go make them!" She urges, taking his hand and trying to pull him to sit up. She was clearly excited, pushing her hair out of her face.

Jake chuckles a little as he sits up, "First." He starts, "We have to get you dressed for the day okay?" He tells her.

She was already crawling her way towards the door, "Can I pick my clothes?!" Ivy eagerly asks, next to vibrating with the new found excitement for the day.

"Sure, honey." Jake smiles lightly watching as she happily hops off the side of the bed and begins running down the hall. "No white clothes Ivy. You hear me?!" He yells.

"Okay!" She yells back.

Jake now stood in the bathroom, brushing back Ivy's hair. She was now dressed in a light purple summer dress that ruffled down to a flowy bottom at her knees. On her feet were mismatched socks, one covered in orange flowers, the other ladybugs. And of course as a crowning glory she wore a long pink beaded necklace. "How do you want your hair this morning?" He lightly asks her, looking at her in the mirror.

She taps her chin, "Two buns?" Ivy suggests.

"Two buns eh?" Jake utters, "Not just one big bun?" He asks her, he wasn’t surprised by the choice. Ivy seemed to like her hair in two buns or a fancy braid normally; that being said (Y/N) normally did her hair because she was much better at it. Jake began to divide her hair so he could pull the two sections up the way she wanted.

"Are you going to have a big bun Daddy?" She asks, her gaze showing she was looking up at him in the bathroom mirror.

"Well I was thinking about it."

"Can I do it for you??" Ivy quickly asks him, watching as he tied the one side into a messy but sweet bun. It was different from how (Y/N) did her buns but Ivy knew her dad was trying his best.

"It'd be faster for me to do it, honey..." Jake tells her. Ivy did his hair very often and Jake really did love letting her play with it, but he assumed she would want to get straight to baking today.

Ivy bit at her cheek for a second watching him start on her second bun. "I want to do it for you." She reaffirms, "When you do buns they're so messy… I want Daddy to look pretty today." Ivy tells him pointedly.

Jake looks down at her pretending to be offended by that statement. "Hey! I thought I was pretty good at it…!”

Ivy seemed to make a slightly disgusted face as she shook her head, making Jake smile even wider. “Well how would you do it then?” He asks her, handing her the hair brush now that he had finished up her buns.

Ivy spun around on the stool and pulled him down by his arm, “Turn around!” She tells him, Jake gives her a peck on the cheek before sitting down with his back facing her. Her hands were quickly in his hair, yanking the brush mercilessly through any knots Jake had in his hair. He wouldn’t say anything, not wanting to kill her little creative spark. He just bit his lip and allowed her to tug and pull until finally she seemed happy with the little bun she had made on the top of his head. “Where is the thing Daddy?” Ivy asks him, clearly looking for an elastic or scrunchie.

“On the counter baby.” He replies, suddenly getting a sharp pull on his head. She was reaching for one of her floral scrunchies to put in his hair. Once she found one it took her a few minutes to get it in his hair.

“There!” She hums giving him a small smack on his shoulders.

Jake looked up at her, before getting up and turning to look in the mirror, “Oh wait!” Ivy stopped him pulling him down by his hand once more before opening a drawer and pulling out a white headband of (Y/N)’s and quickly pushing it down on Jake’s head. “There! Now you’re beautiful.” She hums.

Jake finally looked at himself in the mirror, curious to see just how messy his hair was. Ivy had actually done a bang up job for the most part, aside from a few little pieces poking up. “I love it.” He smiles, leaning down to give her little kisses on her cheek, “Thank you Ivy.”

Ivy grinned proudly at her handy work.

After a few more stops during their morning routine, Jake and Ivy were now in the kitchen. Ivy knew the drill: she had to get her stool, she also had to find her apron, and most importantly she had to put some music on for the two of them. Ivy began to dig through the records trying to find her favorite album he had buried away. Finally she pulled free an album and handed it to Jake carefully, knowing very well how delicate records were. “The space ship one!” She cheers, having picked out Boston’s album.

The sight of it made him smile, he knew she only liked it because it had a space ship on it but it still made him happy that she wanted to listen to something like that. “You know what to do.” He lightly tells her, not moving to help her just watching carefully as she placed the record on the turntable and very carefully moved the needle over it,

“Right there?” She asks him, wanting to make sure she would drop it in the right spot. Jake leaned a little closer and soon nodded,

“Right there. Remember to put it down slowly.” He says. Ivy did so with ease, having done this many many times, within seconds music began to fill the house. “Good job!” Jake hums offering his hand for a high five, Ivy happily hit it and began to the kitchen excitedly.

The rest of the afternoon was full of fun as Ivy worked with Jake to bake some beautiful surprise cupcakes for (Y/N). They were covered in batter and icing by the time they were done, sprinkles all over the counter from all of the decorating they had done. As it drew closer to the evening Ivy had cuddled herself up on the couch and fallen asleep watching a movie, she couldn’t wait for (Y/N) to get home so she could give her the prettiest cupcake she had made.

The front door of the house soon creaked open, keys jingling as (Y/N) called out. “I’m home!”

“In the kitchen.” Jake responded softly, not really wanting to wake Ivy up yet.

(Y/N) stepped into the kitchen to find Jake cleaning everything up as well as a plate full of cupcakes on the counter. It immediately brought a smile to (Y/N)’s lips, “You guys clearly had a fun day.”

Jake smiled back at her, “Those are supposed to be a surprise, so you better act surprised when she shows you them.” He points out, as he continued to scrub out one of the bowls.

(Y/N) came up behind Jake to hug him from behind and place a small kiss on his neck, “I will~” She smiles resting her head on his shoulder, “It was a fun day though?”

Jake nodded, turning a little to place a soft kiss on (Y/N)’s lips, “Y’know what?” He whispers,

“What?” (Y/N) asks.

“She says that I’m funner than you.” He grins being very proud of this.

“What?!” (Y/N) laughs, Jake just kept nodding, not saying anything else. “Well we’ve gotta change that.” She continues pulling back from him and beginning towards the hallway, “Is she in the living room?”

“Yeah she’s sleeping.” Jake hums,

(Y/N) nodded as she started her way down it, “Ivy! Mommies home!”

Jake could hear her call as he turned back to the dishes, his smile wouldn’t dampen. He still couldn’t believe just how lucky he was… to have this beautiful little family. More importantly, how lucky he was to have his sweet little girl named Ivy.

#gvf imagine #gvf fanfiction #josh gvf #jake gvf #sam gvf #danny gvf #gvf fic #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet roleplay #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet imagine #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiskza #danny wagner #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fluff

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smutandfluffohmy · 4 years

Text

His Sweater #2

From: Smutandfluffohmy Pairings: George Weasley X Slytherin!Reader A/N: The time-line of events is altered for story telling purposes, something that will be very obvious if people want me to continue on with the story. I think this is the closest to slow burn I’ve gotten to in my entire fanfic career. Hope y’all can understand because asgyv my brain would rot if I tried to line it up with canon completely.

Read Part 1 here

I have no wand, no socks and I’m wearing a Gryffindors sweater. This could go south terribly fast and I’m hoping for any other cardinal direction. If all else fails I could always throw a punch and run to my bed.For the second time that morning I almost crashed into someone. Seriously an entire hallway but we are still walking on the same side.

Draco stared at me from my face to the sweater, I wish he would notice my bunny slippers too. I also wished he would’ve seen me earlier in my utter Slytherin colors pride.

“Interesting sweater y/l/n” Draco said breaking the silence, scrunching his eyebrows at me. I could feel the Slytherin pride sermon bubbling inside of him.

“Interesting ingredients Malfoy” I answered back. Ingredients to make draught of peace, I’m surprised he had the ingredients, I’m surprised he was nervous and I’m surprised he was going to do it with unkempt hair.

“This didn’t happen and we didn't see each other.” He stiffened, straightening his back the glass containers clinking together.

“Brilliant as always.” I smiled, nodding at him and he doing the same. I’m sure if someone was looking at us right now we looked comical with our overly formal head nods. Starting to walk past each other, both of us going to our destination and trying not to think much about the other on our walk there.

Me, George’s sweater and my bunny slippers were home free, all we had to do is get back to the dorms without bumping into anyone else. But I don't know if it’s my seniority over the kid or perhaps as Snape’s potions assistant I felt responsible or even because I was just worried that made me turn around “Draco.” I called out to him.

He stopped, turning to face me “Y/n.”

Perhaps I should tell him that it’s 7 drops of hellebore not 8, or maybe that it’s supposed to be stirred both counter and clock wise or how it has to simmer for exactly 7 minutes. “If it’s not silver don't drink it.” Was all I could say and by far the best advice I could give him.

“Dully noted.” He said giving me a tight lipped smile, almost forced as if I was forcing him to give me a smile. “Thanks.” he muttered underneath his breath, his tightlipped smile softening at the edges.

The walk back to the dorms was no longer nor shorter than the walk from. Tho I was a bit warmer on both the inside and the outside all thanks to George. Climbing the stairs down to the common room I felt tired and heavy.

I want to sleep.I wish I could sleep but I’m afraid if I fall asleep, I must just wake up to having found out this was all but a fleeting dream. Nothing more but a hot chocolate induced fever dream.

Slipping off my slippers I walked to the edge of the carpet. Curling my toes I wondered if the shock of the coldness would wake me up, still I had to know. Stepping on the cold floor I didn’t wake up nor did I bolt up in bed.The cold floor lets me know that this was real, I was truly awake. But I don't think one knows the true lengths the mind would go to to make up a dream.

Tiptoeing into my dorm I changed into my clothes for the day, taking extra care to fold George’s sweater in a way that both said ‘I took care of it for you’ and ‘I didn’t spend half an hour overthinking this’. Perhaps I was putting too much pressure on folding techniques but I wasn’t about to be exposed by the way sleeves folded over. Getting my school bag ready I laid everything out on the bed.

“Potions.Herbology.Alchemy” I said touching each textbook, books I’ve carried around a hundred times.But I was afraid my lack of sleep would magically turn my Herbology book into a history of magic and I wouldn’t realize till I was standing in Professor Sprouts class.

I spent all of breakfast looking for George but there was absolutely no sign of him. Every time I thought I spotted his hair from across the dinning hall it was just Ron, twice it was just Ginny and once even an overly toasted plate of hash browns.

My first class was to help Snape. A couple of over brewed potions helped keep me on my toes and for that I was grateful.

Second was alchemy.Where nothing particularly interesting happened and had me periodically sticking my hand in my bag just to double,triple, quadruple check that George’s jumper didn’t grow legs and run away.

Third was Herbology. The class I was waiting for, finally a class with Gryffindors that the Weasley twins were in. Walking a bit too quickly and a bit too excitedly to class I wasn’t the first to get there.I blame it on the ever moving stairs. Professor Sprouts lesson dragged on too long for my liking or maybe it was the fact that I was drilling holes at the back that George’s head that made it all drag on.

“Mind the Mandrakes children.” Professor Sprout said with a wave of her hand leaving us to work. Perhaps it was age that made you think of anyone younger than you as children, but we were all very grown up thank you very much.

Leaning over the table I whispered “Psst George.”. No movement.

“George” I called out a bit louder but again no efforts to look back at me. Blimey perhaps it was just how tall he was that he couldn’t hear me from up there or maybe he was just that hard of hearing.

“Bloody hell Weasley I’m calling you.” I called out again poking him with my wand, surely he wasn't hard of hearing and touch desensitized enough to ignore me. Reaching closer in an attempt to tug at his robes my wand fell to the ground as a shrill screech filled the class.

“What?Sorry can’t hear anything over the Mandrake” George said turning to face me, shrugging his shoulders with the screaming Mandrake in his hands. Surely he wasn’t that much of an idiot to pull a Mandrake out of the pot and surely I wasn’t that much of an idiot to be smitten by the smile he flashed me when he did it.

Finally I ended my day just like it began. In Snape’s classroom, only now it was my class messing up potions not first years.

I wonder if it was something I said. Perhaps the carrot comment was too out of hand or maybe they bumped into Draco or maybe he was a bit crossed because he was in fact cold. Am I thinking too much into it? Did he see my sweater fold and thought it was too messy?

Before I knew it potions was dismissed and I still had George Weasleys sweater in my bag. Getting ready for the game my mind still wandered too far for me to get it back, putting on far too many Slytherin colors for it not to be comical. The Slytherin common room buzzed with anticipation and excitement with people laying one the floor writing banners for friends and people writing friends and crushes quidditch number on banners and faces and arms.

Sitting on the stands with the game dragging on, I put my cold hands inside the neatly folded sweater that was hidden inside my robes. I wonder if there was a time limit? A countdown? Were we even half way through?Admittedly I don't know a bloody thing about Quidditch just like I didn’t know a bloody thing about another sport.

Anticipation filled me, wondering when if at all out spirit section was going to mirror that of Gryffindor. Seconds felt eternal and I started to worry that they had been caught in the act.

Before I could continue tormenting myself the colors around me changed from green and silver to reds and golds.

Pansy Parkinson that was seated just behind me looked down to her robes horrified they’ve been turned. I almost felt bad for her and nearly reached over to tell her that red was unfortunately her color. The look on her face when her ‘Go Draco’ banner had been hexed to read ‘Go Harry’ was something you expected when someone tells you you’ve just stepped on hippogriff poo.

Snape looked crossed at the entire Gryffindor house and even Godric Gryffindor as if he himself planned this all out from beyond the grave to give Salazar Slytherin a last jab. I almost felt guilty looking at the face of my professor, a fleeting guilt but nonetheless guilt. Shouts around me cheering on Slytherin were abruptly replace with cheers for Gryffindor.

Smiling looking up at the players my eyes darted around for a glimpse of George or even Fred, but they all looked the same in their uniform.

“Go George!” I yelled over the loud burst of ‘Go Gryffindor’s that surrounded me.

“Go Fred!” I yelled out for good measure, adding it as to not make him feel left out tho I doubt they could hear me over all the commotion. But nevertheless I would know even if they didn’t.

The game came to an end as Harry reached up with the snitch grasped firmly in his hand. Grunts filled the Slytherin area, cursing at their changed clothes, cursed horns and now quidditch loss. I don’t know why everyone is upset this always happens at Gryffindor and Slytherin games, in fact at this point it seemed like a poorly written Quidditch plot. The fact that Harry always caught the snitch, if I didn't know any better I would have to say Harry and the golden snitch had a pact going on.

Around me people didn’t move instead they cursed and jabbed fingers at the Gryffindor tower. They must be really be crossed at Gryffindor to be standing around complaining under snow, or maybe their sheer hatred was keeping them warm. Getting up to leave because I wasn't neither cross nor warm to be standing around.

“Where are you going?” Christy asked me stopping her conversation over the horrid color combination Gryffindor had as if ours were any better.

“I need to go to the restroom. Besides I’m too cold to be standing here complaining.” I said walking away and she promptly went back to her conversation.

Walking down the Slytherin section, I made my way to the Gryffindor Quidditch player section. Somewhere I was highly banned from being in because I was neither a Gryffindor nor a quidditch player.

“I nearly fell off my broom hearing Slytherin chant for us.” Someone who I assumed was Harry said between laughter. A smile spread on my face thrilled I did in fact contribute to a great Weasley prank.

“Having them cheer for us was bloody brilliant! That had to be your best one yet!” Ron beamed at his brothers. Brilliant I got a stamp of approval not only from Harry Potter but from the small Weasley as well.

“Yea an awfully brilliant addition.” I said stepping into view.

The room felt silent and for I moment I wondered for what reason.They’ve just won shouldn't they be happy? So why do they have such long faces. Forgetting and simultaneously remembering that I in fact was that very reason, the walking Slytherin banner for the second time that day leaving people uncomfortable. Even without the silver and green perhaps something about me just reeked of Slytherin.

“You shouldn’t be in here Slytherin.” Ron said standing up to face me.The words held so much anger my mind wondered to see if I had ever caused any misfortune to the younger Weasley.

“I-I-I” My brain forgot all words or perhaps it had forgotten the ability to form any excuses. I didn’t expect a warm welcome but definitely not this much hostility.

“Going to tell Snape on us?” Harry said quirking his eyebrow at me, great I had the look of not only a Slytherin but a snitch as well. Perhaps it was the hair.

“Oi hold on that’s no way to talk to the lady of the hour.” George called out stepping from putting away his broom and jogging to stand next to me. A arm rested around my shoulder, I wonder how much of my red face I could blame on the snow.

Fred made his way to my other side, placing his hand on top of my head. “While it pains me to admit. Y/n was the one that came up with the horn bit.” He said ruffling my hair, George shifting the slightest bit closer to me. The amount of attention was too much for me and the bizarre looks on Harry and Rons face was enough to make me want to test my luck with the unforgiving blizzard forming outside. “Tho I do think I could've come up with it if I had some time.” Fred shrugged.

“Sure she did” Ron scoffed looking between his brothers to me.

“Cross my heart.” Fred said crossing his heart.

“Then I take back my compliment.” Ron said, the brotherly hatred he had for his brother far outweighing any sort of imaginary feud he had going on with me.

“Can't do that it’s already gone to my head.” Fred shrugged earning a laugh from Harry and comments on how they had to start out sourcing their pranks now from Ron.

George lead me just outside as the conversation inside kept building with Fred insisting that it was his genius that rubbed off on me, as if I would let him rub anything near me.

“Who was it in the hallway by the way?” George whispered leaning against the door frame. The hall was too cold and I had to inch forward towards George to step just out of the cold winds reach.

I shrugged “Oh it was just Draco.” I said having to look up to meet George’s eyes, I wish I was a bit taller or that he didn’t hover over me as much as he did.

His face turning into disgust just for a split second at the mention of his name “Just Draco?”

Was it Slytherin or Draco that had this effect on people? Somehow I know he would be a nuisance regardless of his house. “He’s not that bad.He could ease up on the hair dye but he’s actually pretty decent.” I said mindlessly but truthfully. “Don’t tell him I said that.” I shook my head looking up at George already visualizing just how much bigger Draco’s head would get if he knew I thought he was anything above horrid.

“Blimey I don’t think I could hold it in, it might slip out during our daily conversation” George said laughing. I wonder if I could bottle up that laugh or if I could make him laugh again just enough to commit it to memory.

“What? Draco not conversing with people outside of Slytherin? This is so unlike him I must check to see if he is feeling well.” I said faking worry for the sometimes socially awkward Slytherin.

“I came by to give you back your sweater.” I said holding it out towards him. Perhaps this was the end of our short lived friendship, perhaps after this we will go back to hardly speaking and perhaps I will go back to staring at him longingly during Herbology.

“You should come celebrate with us.” George said completely ignoring his sweater, the way he danced around it made me wonder if I actually offered him his sweater or if my mind was playing tricks on me.

“A Slytherin? At a Gryffindor party? Oh but George what would the neighbors think?” I laughed clutching the front of my robes.

George laughed “I’ll take care of them, I’ve been told I’m quite scary.” he said. I wondered who told him such a lie or if he was even capable of being even remotely scary.

Shaking my head I tried my best not to sound too disappointed “Thank you but I suspect I’m going to have to help mend an entire teams egos.” I said offering him his sweater once more.

“Keep it.” He said pushing it towards me, his voice too soft and too gentle that I wondered if a stray quidditch ball didn’t knock me out mid game and I was now living out one of those muggle romance movies.

“Bu-”

“My arms hurt from all the bludger tossing, don’t think I could carry it all the way back.” He shrugged, I wonder how tired ones arms had to be not to be able to carry a sweater back.Maybe if I played Quidditch I would’ve understood. “Just give it back to me later.”

“George hurry up we need to start celebrating!” Fred shouted sticking his head out the door looking at his brother, I wonder if his arms were equally as tired. “You coming?” Fred said looking down at me, shaking my head I wished I could accept.

“ ‘fraid not gotta go and hear my entire house moan about Gryffindors all night.” Shrugging, I could already heard Pansys moans and feel Dracos side eye of disapproval. I wonder if they were moping around the Slytherin common room in Gryffindor robes or they were so extremely crossed that they figured out a way to un hexed the robes.

“Should’ve gotten sorted into Gryffindor instead.” George said earnestly, I wondered how different this day would've played out if I was sorted into Gryffindor my first year. Perhaps Ron and Harry wouldn't be that cross with me or perhaps they would’ve gotten something else to not like about me.

“I’ll make sure to send my complains to the sorting hat.”

Fred pointed his finger at me “We got an end of year plan we’re going to need your opinion on.” he said smiling.

“See you later then?” George asked but I wish he would’ve stated, a promise sounded more hopeful than a question.

“I’ll keep an eye out.” I nodded seeing them walk away, deciding to wait a bit before I walked out. I suspect hateful tensions for Gryffindors from Slytherins are at an all time high right now and I truly don't want to get hexed in a weather like this.

“Bloody brilliant that one, wish I would've given her my sweater. Think she’ll take my jersey?” Fred said in a failed attempt at a whisper, something told me Fred Weasley was a terrible whisperer. “Oi Y/N you still cold?” He called out towards me with his arms raised, waving them around as if I couldn't see the only other people in the hall.

“Shut up!” George said clapping his hands forcing Fred to keep walking.

“What I can’t worry about a girl’s warmth levels?” Fred said playfully shoving George.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine

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ddaeng-danvers · 3 years

Text

under and over

pairing: anakin skywalker x reader

genre: fluff

summary: in which anakin learns how to braid hair

warnings: mention of death, minor injuries, the reader is described as having long hair

word count: 2753

a/n: well...i’m having an anakin phase, what can i say. this is unedited and i wrote it in one sitting so i apologize for any mistakes, also!! i’m aware some things may be inconsistent with ~canon~ but i’m having a good time so leave me alone,,, there are also mentions of platonic anakin x padme as an fyi... finally!! this isn’t a part two of my last fic (dreams) but in my brain they are like the same universe,,, so yeah,,, enjoy!!

masterlist

*this gif has nothing to do with the fic but he looks GREAT so i’m using it anyway*

You left for the Jedi Order when you were quite young. You left only your mother behind, as your father died in a shipping accident on Corellia. You held on to as many memories of your mother as possible, as she was the only family you had left. One of your fondest memories of your mother was the way she did your hair. Every morning, from the moment you had a sprout of hair on your head, she attempted to braid and style it intricately. The styles were always beautiful, inspired by the different cultures of the galaxy your mother had seen in her travels with your father before he passed.

Now, over fifteen years later, you long for the feeling of your mother’s fingers weaving through your hair. Because you left for the order at such a young age, your mother was never able to teach you her braiding and styling methods. This has left you with two simple skills, tying your hair into ponytails, and braiding it into two strands on either side of your head. You longed for the ability to weave it atop your head, but now, with the war, there was little time for hair styling.

Almost immediately after passing your trials, you were thrown into the Clone War. You worked alongside Anakin Skywalker and the 501st battalion most often, but frequently bounced around to others, such as Obi-Wan’s 212th, and your former master Shaak Ti’s position on Kamino. You were never officially assigned a battalion of your own due to your opposition of the war, but remained a Jedi General for the benefit of the Republic.

After a particularly rough mission, your find yourself sneaking from the medbay (you suffered only minor scrapes and bruises) and retreated to your quarters. It is there that you find Anakin standing on the balcony.

“What’re you doing out here, Ani?” He smiles and looks back at you.

“I should be asking you that. You should be in the medbay.” You look at the ground, feeling the slightest bit guilty. You know how much Anakin cares for you. If you stayed you may have lessened his worrying slightly.

“I’m alright. It’s nothing too serious.” A moment of silence passes. “What about you? You and Snips didn’t come out unscathed either.” Anakin’s face shrinks in the slightest, the thought of his padawan’s injuries a difficult one to process.

“We’re both okay. She was checked over. Hit her head pretty hard, but she’ll be okay. She does have to stay on bedrest for a bit, which I’m sure she’s thrilled about.” You both laugh at the thought.

“She reminds me of you, y’know.” Anakin’s expression becomes puzzled.

“Really?” He asks. You nod, looking out into the Coruscant skyline.

“She’s headstrong, confident. Sometimes a bit overconfident.” Anakin lets out a chuckle. “But she’s got a good heart. And she cares about those around her, deeply.” Anakin smiles at you again.

“Well I certainly do care for you, my love.” He leans down and presses the softest kiss to your lips, and then to both cheeks, which begin to redden. He still makes you feel like a bubbling padawan.

“We should probably head to bed soon, debriefs and all in the morning.” Anakin curtly nods, continuing to gaze at the setting sun. “We can check on Ahsoka too, before we head to bed., if you want.”

Although attachments are technically forbidden by the Jedi Council, there was a strange exception granted to you and Anakin. The council knew of your relationship, and even approved it. Master Yoda claimed you had prevented Anakin from falling down a darker path. He insisted that the force willed you together. Luckily, it seems the exception of your attachment has led to some more leniency in the Council regarding the subject.

After a quick trip to the refresher and a check-up with Ahsoka, you and Anakin retire back to your quarters. (Technically Anakin has his own quarters that he is supposed to stay in, although everyone knows this is a rare occurrence). He always seemed to like your room more. He claimed it had more personality than his. Likely because he didn’t have much to bring with him from Tatooine, and materialism was generally discouraged among Jedi.

Being held by Anakin at night felt like a gift from the Maker himself. His arms warm, his chest firm, and his hands combing through the tresses of your hair.

Anakin awoke the next morning to a cold bed. He heard you clamoring around the refresher. Curious, he threw on his robe and knocked on the door.

“You alright in there, love?” He stands up against the door, waiting for a response. You open the door a moment later, a grumbly look on your face. It seems you’ve already gotten dressed. You had on a brown and black tunic and pants. Your armor for battle left at the foot of your bed, since today was to be a day filled with debriefing, strategizing, and paperwork.

“I’m fine, I just woke up early and then couldn’t fall asleep, so I decided to get up, be productive, but I just can’t do my hair right.” Anakin noticed the rough braids on your scalp, likely from failed attempts at braiding it moments ago.

“I wish I could help you, but hair isn’t my area of expertise.” Anakin looks at you through the mirror as he wraps his arms around your torso. He places a kiss to your shoulder.

“It’s fine.” You affirm. “I’m just frustrated.”

The debrief with the Council went without a hitch. Just a standard report on your success, information regarding casualties, and your new assignments. Fortunately, the Council gave the two of you a few days off before your next assignments. You planned to spend every waking moment possible with Anakin, as you were being sent to aid Obi-Wan and the 212th. You returned to your quarters shortly after the meeting to strategize a plan for your upcoming assault with Anakin on your heels. He helped you as much as he could, before becoming distracted. (He was never the best strategizer. He joked you were the brains of this relationship). He tinkered with his arm as you worked alongside him.

A knock on the door pulled you from your work. You opened it slowly, curious as to who it could be. Opening it all the way, you were met with the colors and patterns of a traditional Nabooian gown.

“Padme!” You exclaimed. It had been so long since you’d seen her. You grew quite close when you and Anakin were assigned to protect her all those years ago. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here on Senate business, and I couldn’t be here without stopping by to say hello to you two.” Anakin has since gotten up from his seat and come over to great Padme as well. “I was going to stop and see Ahsoka, but I assumed she’d be training. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Ahsoka was actually injured on our last mission. Nothing serious, just a mild concussion, she’s resting in her quarters as far as I know.” Anakin assures.

“We could stop by and see her, I’m sure she’d be excited to know you’re here.” Padme smiles at the implied compliment. You grab your robes from your bed, and usher everyone through the hallway to Ahsoka’s quarters. You knock as lightly as possible on the door.

“Ahsoka, you in there? You have a visitor.” Ahsoka fumbles behind the door, before opening it.

“Senator Amidala!” Ahsoka exclaims. The two of them envelop in a brief hug before separating. “It’s great to see you!”

“And you as well Ahsoka. You’ve gotten so tall!” Ahsoka viewed Padme as an older sister figure. She’d lost the rest of her family so young, she had little memory of them. The memories she does have however, she cherishes. You and her both.

After an hour or so of catching up, you notice Ahsoka’s eye’s begin to droop. You look up at Anakin who seems to have noticed the same thing. Through the briefest of eye contact, you understand Anakin’s request. He wants you to stay with her, make sure she’s actually resting. You nod, as Anakin whispers this information to Padme. “It’s been great catching up with you Ahsoka, but I’m afraid I have to tend to that Senate business now. Rest well.” Ahsoka nods politely, her drowsy expression only worsening.

“Thank you Senator Amidala. See you later. You too, Master Skywalker.” You stay in your standing position before guiding Ahsoka down to her bed. She practically rolls over the moment she sits down.”

“Tired?” You chuckle. Ahsoka smiles slightly.

“Yeah, this concussion took me out more than I care to admit.” You laugh again. “You are just like Anakin when he was a padawan. It scares me sometimes how similar you to are.” Ahsoka nods again.

“I guess that means we’re a perfect match.”

“I guess so.” Ahsoka seems to drift off quickly, and you begin to tidy anything out of place around her room. There isn’t much out of place, so you make your way to the door. But just before you open it, Ahsoka calls out your name.

“Master Y/L/N?” You walk over to the edge of her bed again.

“Yes Ahsoka? Is there something wrong?” Her expression is confused and guilt-ridden.

“Can you stay here with me? I haven’t gotten very good sleep lately, I’ve been having nightmares.” You looks down at Ahsoka again. She seems to be like Anakin in her sleep habits as well.

“Of course, Ahsoka. If anything you are sparing me from planning Obi-Wan’s attack later this week.”

“I’m sure Master Kenobi can figure that out himself.” Ahsoka smiles.

“Yes, I’m sure he can.”

Anakin smiles as her feels your Force presence relax, assuming because you’ve fallen asleep. Padme smiles up at him.

“You’ve got that dumbstruck look on your face, again.”

“What do you mean again?” Anakin questions.

“You were looking at her like that the whole time we were in Ahsoka’s room.” Padme laughs. “It’s okay, it’s cute. I remember you two on Naboo. Absolutely dancing around your feelings until I put a stop to it.” Anakin remembers his mission with you to Naboo fondly. You assumed Anakin loved Padme, when he never held romantic feelings for her. Only familial admiration. You and Padme spoke over dinner one night after Anakin went to bed early. She essentially pried your confession out of you, but you assured her that Anakin loved her. How very wrong you were. Padme made it her mission to set you two up while you were still on Naboo. Clearly, she was successful.

“I have a strange request.” Anakin spoke up. Padme nodded at him to continue speaking. “Can you teach me how to braid hair?” Padme stops in her tracks, Anakin continuing to walk a few steps forward before turning around. “What?”

“Nothing, just, that is in fact a strange request. Why do you want to learn?” Anakin describes the scene of you this morning, frustrated in the mirror.

“Her mother used to style it, but she left for the Order so young that she was never able to learn how her mother did it.” Padme nods along.

“I can teach you. We’ll start with some simple ones, I’ll leave you datapads to look over in the future. Does that suffice?” Anakin nods, gratefully.

“Yes, thank you Padme. When should I meet you again for my...lesson?”

“We can go back to my room right now, if that works for you?”

“Of course, but I thought you had Senate duties to attend to?” Padme chuckles.

“If this is for Y/N’s benefit, this far outweighs my senatorial duties.” Padme and Anakin laugh and continue their walk down the hall.

Anakin spent the next few hours listening to Padme’s instructions as she demonstrated a few hairstyles on her handmaidens. They allowed Anakin to practice on their hair as well. Anakin was always a fast learner, and picked up these skills quickly.

Time flew by, and Anakin suddenly felt your Force precense awaken. He ties the braid he was working on in Sabe’s hair, and received an impressed nod from Padme.

“Not half bad, Anakin. You’ve picked this all up quite fast.” Anakin gives a nod with a hint of smirk on his face. He’s impressed with himself too. He thanks everyone in the room, especially the handmaidens who have had him tugging at their hair for the past few hours, and departs for your quarters, excited to show off his new skills.

When he arrives, you’ve already made it back from Ahsoka’s room and changed into a lighter pair of pants and a looser tunic. You have battle plans strewn across the table, with your head resting in your hands.

“Thank you for staying with Ahsoka, I had a feeling she wasn’t getting the best rest.” You nod in agreement.

“She’s been having nightmares. Nothing serious, I think she’s still reflecting on the mission. I think she’s being reminded of her squadron on Ryloth. She’s afraid of it happening again.” Anakin’s expression sinks. You know him well enough to understand his thought process. He wishes to protect Ahsoka from as much pain as possible. Although he knows this isn’t possible, he beats himself up when she feels this pain. “I can practically read your thoughts, love. It’s not your fault.”

“I know, I just wished she believed in herself a little more. She’s capable, but afraid of further consequences.” You both nod and let a comfortable silence overtake the room.

Hours fly by yet again, and the sun has set behind the Coruscant skyline, signaling the end of another day. You both wordlessly get ready for bed.

As you finish drying your hair, Anakin can seethe wheels turning in your head. He knows exactly what you are about to attempt, and he has a surprise in store. He grabs your brush of the stand along your bed, and elastics gifted to him by Padme. “Love, come here.” He motions for you to sit in front of him, your bottom practically in his lap. Anakin has brushed your hair before, you used to rebraid each other’s braids during your time as padawans as well, so you weren’t suspicious when Anakin began to brush through you hair.

What did surprise you is when he began to section it off. He weaved it gently between his fingers, skillfully. He managed to avoid every knot and unnecessary tug. You felt him pin the braids intricately forming a ring over the top of your head. The rest were tucked into a bun, with braids that formed a section of their own. He placed his hands on your shoulder to signal his completion, and you looked at him eagerly.

“Can I look at it?” You asked, brimming with glee.

“Of course, love.” You rush to the mirror in the refresher. As soon as you are met with your reflection, you are rendered speechless. Anakin has since gotten out of bed and come to stand behind you in the refresher. “You like it?” Anakin asks. You nod your head. You turn your neck to see the back, and it’s beautiful, The braids flow within your natural hair perfectly. It feels both similar and different from your mother’s style. Not quite Correlian, but…

“Padme taught you how to do this.” You stated.

“How did you know?” Anakin asked, surprised you deciphered it that quickly.

“I’ve seen her wear something similar before. It also feels very Nabooian.” Anakin gleams down at you, thrilled to see your smile. You reach up and grip his cheeks pulling him into a kiss. You separate a moment later. “Can you teach me how to do this?”

Anakin laughs. “Of course my love.” The two of you retire to bed shortly after. Anakin admires his handiwork as you lay your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you, Ani. I really do appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, love. It made me upset that you never got to learn from your mother, I know how much it meant to you, so we can learn together.” The thought of Anakin with his hands in your hair glaring at a datapad about hair styles made you giggle. “Maybe you can pass these hairstyles on to our children one day.” The thought of Anakin with a child, your child in his lap, makes you smile as you slip into sleep.

#star wars #star wars fluff #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin x reader #anakin fluff #anakin imagine #please for the love of god show up in the tags #i'm bEGGING

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writingfandomfeels · 3 years

Text

Santa Fe Part 2

Dream Come True

Part 2 of the Santa Fe Series

Summary: All your New York dreams are coming true as you get ready to leave after another night of performing at Medda’s. Jack comes backstage to congratulate you on your performance and things get heated.

Smut between ~~~

Fall was just around the corner and you were living your dream. Not only had you landed your dream career of singing on stage every night, but somehow along the way you also fell in love. And lucky for you he even felt the same way.

Alone in the communal dressing room, you sat perched on a stool in front of one of the illuminated mirrors, taking off your makeup and getting ready to go home. It would get pretty packed in there with so many girls sharing the space so you preferred to wait until the other singers and dancers had already left rather than fighting for a space. You heard a knock followed by Jack peering in from the doorway.

“Hey,” you greeted, “sorry, I’m almost ready, just give me a few more minutes.”

“Maybe I can help.” He smiled, coming up behind you. He placed a soft kiss to your neck before working on undoing your corset for you. “You was amazin’ tonight darlin’... as always.”

You blushed, knowing where Jack was hoping to take this. “I promise we can get home soon.” The sentence suddenly sparked an idea you’d been considering mentioning for a while now. “Oh, hey,” you started, “speaking of which… I was thinking… it’s gonna be getting colder soon.”

He continued unlacing the corset, but glanced up at you in the mirror, confusion evident in his expression. He went back to the corset, waiting for you to make your point.

“And, I mean, as much as you know I love sleeping up in your penthouse with you, I was thinking… maybe it’s time for a roof?”

“Whatta’ you gettin’ at?” He asked, finishing now and taking off the corset so you were only in your slip now. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rested his head on top of yours, staring at you in the mirror.

“What if we got a place… together?” You suggested.

Surprise hit his face. In the past he’d never thought that could ever be possible for him, but now…?

“Between you illustrating for The World and me working here for Medda, I think we could really do it. I’ve seen ads for some really cheap rooms for rent and I don’t know, I think it might not be a bad idea.” You turned in your seat to face him, trying to read his expression which appeared to be neutral as he considered it.

You certainly didn’t feel like what you had was just a summer fling, but you hadn’t exactly talked about the future with each other. The L word had been exchanged already but what if he didn’t really mean it as a ‘I love you and want a future with you’ type of thing, what if it was more of a ‘I love you and this thing between us is neat for the moment.’ And sure, even though you practically did live together already, you were living with him on a rooftop, which required way less commitment and certainly wouldn’t do for the upcoming winter months.

“You don’t have to come up with an answer right now. You can think about it if you need to.” You quickly added.

A smile grew on Jack’s face. “What’s there t’ think about? Are you kiddin’ me? A’course I wanna get a place with you!” He responded.

You stood to kiss him and he immediately took you into his arms.

You kissed him with an innocence sprouted from the hope and excitement of your growing future together, but he kissed back with a hunger you should have expected based off of earlier. His hands roamed down to squeeze your ass as he deepened the kiss and you felt him begin to guide the two of you over to the red velvet chaise near the clothing rack. The heat was quickly growing between you both and you realized he wouldn’t want to hold on until you were back at the lodge. And if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t sure you wanted to either.

~~~

Laying you down on the chaise, he hovered above you, and began pulling off your slip. He trailed wet kisses down your body with a few gentle bites thrown in too as he slid the fabric down. You let your eyes flutter closed as you took in the sensation, feeling him reaching your hip and biting it, definitely leaving a mark there. He ran his hand down the center of your body before using it to part your legs. You felt his fingers gently slide across your slit.

“Damn, you so wet already babygirl.” He remarked, lightly teasing your clit with the tip of his finger.

Your breath was already coming out heavier from this. You opened your eyes. “And you sir,” you smiled, “are wearing way too much clothes.”

He smirked. He’d been so distracted by the desire to see your body before him like this that he’d forgotten to undress himself. Quickly he moved to unbutton and pull off his vest, shirt, and tank while you worked on his pants. He was still undressing when you slid your hand into his pants and palmed his hard length, causing a surprised gasp to fall out of his mouth. Normally he was the one who liked to surprise you with sudden pleasure, but this time you’d turned the tables on him and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

He leaned close to your ear. “Don’t you dare start ‘til I say so.” He growled.

You bit your lip and smiled at him. “Sure thing, boss.” You knew how calling him that always got him going, and by the look in his eye he was growing simply ravenous to have you.

He stood, yanking his pants and underwear off, tossing them to the floor, never breaking eye contact with you. He climbed back on top of you, taking your head into his hand and bringing your lips to his as he roughly kissed while simultaneously pushing himself inside you. Gasping against his mouth as you felt him fill you, you bit at his lip now to let him know how good it felt and to encourage him to keep going. He began to thrust into you, quickly building up momentum.

“Oh, fuck, Jack.” You moaned, craving to feel him deeper and deeper.

Sometimes Jack liked to take things slow and gradually build you up, but other times, like tonight, he wanted to cut straight to it.

“I been wantin’ you all night, you know that?” he asked before continuing. “You looked so fucking good up there. On stage. My temptress.” He groaned the last word out. “In that tight dress, with ya’ voice soundin’ like a damn angel.”

You breathed out another moan at his words.

“You like that? My angel.” He repeated the words as he thrust harder. “Pretty dirty for an angel.”

“Only with you.” You commented between strained breaths, your hands up in his hair.

Your bodies pulsed against each other in rhythmic desperation and you felt yourself coming closer to your undoing. Feeling your body begin to shake and squirm under him, Jack squeezed your thigh.

“Not yet darlin’, not yet.” He breathed, his voice gruff.

“Jack, I-” you yelped as he hit a new spot in you, “I don’t know- if I can hold on.”

“You can, and ya’ will.” He said against your ear. If there was one thing Jack absolutely loved in the bedroom that was control. He didn’t feel like he had much control over his life at times so this was the outlet he liked the most. And you were always happy to help when it came to this.

Moving his hand from your leg, he brought his thumb to your clit.

“Ah, shit!” You cried out. “I definitely can’t hold on if you do that!”

Jack smirked as he looked down at your enamored self, lust for him blazing in your eyes.

“Please, I can’t take it.” You whined, clutching at the arm near you that held him up.

His thrusts grew more careless as he got closer himself. “A’ight doll,” he grunted, “do it, cum for me.” His thumb circled your clit wildly, sending you over the edge.

You screamed out in ecstasy, squeezing against him. Jack quickly pulled out, letting himself release on your stomach.

Your eyes were closed again and the velvet beneath your skin never felt softer. You heard a couple footsteps and rolled your head to the side to see Jack grabbing from the tissues you’d been using earlier to take off your makeup. Gently he wiped off your stomach and sat on the edge of the chaise.

~~~

He stared at you looking awfully lovestruck and you had to stifle a giggle for how adorable he looked, his hair all messy now from your hands in it earlier.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing,” he smiled, “I just can’t wait to have a future with you.”

“Me too.” You smiled, still feeling the euphoria. It felt as though all of your New York dreams were coming true.

#jack kelly x reader #jack kelly smut #newsies smut #newsies x reader #my writing

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rosie-moons · 3 years

Text

Doggy Paddling || jjk

~Pairing: swimming instructor!jungkook x beginner!reader

~Genre: so much fluffy fluff

~Word Count: 2.4k

~Warnings: reader flailing around in water, shirtless jungkook (sorry not sorry), wet haired jungkook (sorry not sorry), jungkook and reader just being the cutest fluffy lovebirds, loads of softness

~Synopsis: Step 1: Drive to indoor swimming pool classes. Step 2: Enter swimming pool building. Step 3: Change into bathing suit. Step 4: Learn to swim. Easy peasy. Er, at least it was easy peasy, up until step #4. That’s when you actually climbed down into the pool and found out that your swimming instructor was possibly the hottest guy you’d ever seen in your life. Not only that, but he kept smiling at you, and it was adorable, which doesn’t make sense since someone just can’t be hot and adorable at the same time. Ugh, why must you be blessed with him for 3 months?

~A/N: Hi! This is my first fic on here, and I'm veeeery nervous... I hope you enjoy it! P.S. If you liked it, feel free to heart it, but please don't reblog!

~''~

“Mmhm, yep, you’re g-o gorgeous today,” You say with confidence, making double gun fingers at yourself in the mirror.

You’d ordered a black bikini online, in preparation of wowing everyone at the swimming lessons. It was quite simple, really, with straps over your shoulders and ties across your hip bones. The curvy blonde models on the website looked stunning in it, though. So stunning, in fact, that you pressed “add to cart” faster than you could say “add to cart”.

Your face sagged a bit when you realized you, in fact, did not look like the models in the images. Tummy not as toned with light abs, chest not as big. You sighed.

Stuffing your t-shirt, underwear, and jean shorts back into your duffel bag and setting it in the tiny locker, you took one last look at yourself in the mirror and set out on your adventure- er, if you’d call swimming lessons that.

~''~

“Y/N? Hellooo?”

You blink rapidly, snapping back to reality. You take a few seconds to realize you’re sitting on the edge of the pool with your feet dipped into the water. “Um. Sorry?”

The guy laughs, and it’s an airy, happy sound. You blush. He’s incredibly attractive, with wavy black hair, parts of it sticking to his forehead from the water. He has big, starry, eyes, almost like a doe’s. It’s hard not to get lost in them. His bunny teeth are on full display, pearly white and adorable. His whole face is adorable, in fact.

“You’ve been staring at me for, what, 15 minutes?” He teases with laughter still in his eyes. “Am I really that handsome?”

You’re about to say “yes” when he pulls you down into the pool, one arm pulled tightly across your lower back and the other scooped around your neck. You squeal. “Put me down!”

He puts you down.

Bad idea.

You just remembered that you can’t swim, and if he puts you down then you are going to drown. “ACTUALLY- *spit sputter*- DON’T PUT- *cough spit*- ME DOWN!! I CAN’T- *sputter cough* SWIM!! PICK ME UP, HANDSOME- *spit cough*- GUY!!!”

He laughs again, a sound you’re already starting to love. “Alright, alright. Your wish is my command, after all.” He takes you back into a koala position so your legs are wrapped tightly around his waist. At that you blush again. Not just from the hug part, but from you actually taking a good look at his body.

To say the simplest, it’s amazing.

He definitely goes to the gym at least 8 times a day, definitely eats only brussel sprouts, definitely has never been to the beach, or anywhere with too much sunlight (explain his fair skin then, missy), and definitely is tall.

You don’t care if that’s what’s going through your mind instead of swimming, you only care about this gorgeous man that’s smiling and is holding you in his arms. This gorgeous man that’s currently asking if you know the 4 basic stokes. Or was it sokes?

“Um…” You stutter nervously. “The 4… um… yeah, I… definitely know the… 4… stokes. Or sokes.”

He shakes his head, faking disappointment. “Pay more attention, sweetheart. You’ll never learn if you just stare at and admire me.”

“I was not-”

He chuckles. “Yeah, yeah, you totally weren’t staring at my abs. Totally.” That makes you blush harder. He seems to like that, smirking just the tiniest bit. “Anyway, I was asking if you know the 4 strokes. Freestyle, backstroke, butterfly, and breaststroke.”

You shake your head. “I’ve… watched them on TV though. In the Olympics. Does that count?”

“...No,” He bites his lip for a second, thinking. Then, as though he just had a brilliant idea- his smile grows wide as the day and he nearly drops you in excitement. “LUMI!!”

An attractive girl with big hazel eyes and her hair dyed bright pink pokes her head out of the shower room. “What’s up?”

“Get over here for a second,”

She steps out, and you nearly gasp (...nearly) at how damn stunning she is. In a magenta floral printed one-piece suit, her tiny waist, wide hips, and long, long legs stand out like a dot of black in a field of white. When she walks, it looks like she’s in one of those super high end fashion shows with paparazzi all around. To be honest, you wouldn’t be surprised if paparazzi started showing up right at that very moment.

When she gets close enough, you see her nametag reads “Lumianne”. Even her name is pretty.

“Did baby boy Jungkook lose his swimming trunks again?” She teases, rolling her eyes playfully. “Do I need to call mommy?”

The guy- Jungkook-’s grip on you momentarily tightens as you watch his face flush a tomato red. “No, actually. Did you?”

“I don’t wear swimming trunks.”

“Exactly. That’s why you shouldn’t ask me.”

“But you do wear swimming trunks.”

“... JUST STOP, OKAY? JUST BECAUSE YOU JUST DYED YOUR HAIR DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE THE QUEEN OF THE WORLD.”

“Okay, okay. What do you want me to do? You know I’m supposed to be taking a hot shower right now after a day of screaming little kids kicking water in my face but you called me over so I can’t, right?. Are you gonna talk? ‘Cause if not, I’m leaving.”

“What I was going to say, before you rudely called me a baby boy, is that Y/N here has no experience in swimming-”

You kick his leg under the water.

“- and I need you to hand over the curriculum paper ‘cause I haven’t taught someone like this in a loong time.”

Lumianne rolls her eyes again. “Get them yourself. I’m going back to the showers. Bye, baby boy.”

“Wait!” Jungkook calls after her. “I can’t move ‘cause Y/N won’t let go of me!” Lumianne sighs, leaning down to pick up a few papers on a clipboard. She walks back to Jungkook, handing them over to him.

“Need anything else?”

Jungkook shakes his head, letting you squeeze him tighter as he lets go of the arm holding your shoulders. “Nope. Thanks though.”

She smiles mischievously. “I think I deserve a strawberry tart.”

Jungkook groans, swatting her away. “I bought you one this week already.”

“Only one!”

You can’t help but smile. Everyone here is so witty, attractive, and nice- you love it already. (“Only a tiny part of why I love it so much is Jungkook.” You mentally scream to your brain.)

~''~

“JUNGKOOK! NOOOO! I CANNN’T!!!!” You whine childishly, hanging on to Jungkook as though your life depended on it. He sighed for the millionth time that day.

“Y/N, the water’s only 5’6 deep. Plus, I’ll catch you if you drown. In fact, I’ll hold your back as you do it. Just please, please try to float on your back, okay?”

Only 5’6? Only 5’6?! Heck, maybe it wasn’t a lot for him, but for you…

“NO!”

Jungkook sighed again. “Listen baby, I need you to try, okay? I’ll help you, but if you keep refusing like this, you aren’t ever gonna learn to swim. Okay?” You stared at him, mouth hanging open slightly. “What?”

“Did you… just call me… b-baby?!” You nearly faint as Jungkook tilts his head slightly, adorably pouting the tiniest bit.

“So I did.”

“So I did?! That’s what you say after you call me baby?!?! Baby?!?!” You splutter, heart booming and threatening to leap out of your ribcage. You’re so stupidly in love, cheeks burning red and palms sticky with sweat, and here Jungkook is just tilting his head and acting like he did nothing.

It’s so unfair.

“So what if I called you baby?” He responds, big, starry doe eyes staring at you. Ugh. This is so stupid.

You’re about to yell again when Lumianne comes back out of the showers, pink hair wet yet still so stylish. She smirks.

“Hey lovebirds. May I take a photo?”

“NO!” You scream.

“NO!” Jungkook screams.

Lumianne takes a photo.

~''~

It’s been 1 month since you started at APC Swimming, (not Attractive People Center Swimming, but rather Amazing Performance Center Swimming. The cute red haired swimming instructor who just so happened to be Jungkook’s #1 target for his “games” named Jimin told you.) and you’re proud to say that you have mastered floating on your back, sticking your head underwater for 13 seconds, doggy paddling a very short distance, and talking to Jungkook without looking like an idiot.

Lumianne- whose hair is now a striking blue- also somehow became your best friend.

No idea how.

Anyway, you also bought a new swimsuit. It was a hot pink bikini that Lumianne insisted upon, saying that it "was made for supermodels like Gigi Hadid but you should wear it anyways since it will definitely wow Jungkook".

Yes, she knew of your crush on him, and yes, she was a Hadid superfan.

After pondering whether to wear the black swimsuit Jungkook was used to or the new pink one Lumianne liked for hours in the changing rooms, you finally decide on the pink one.

He’d love a surprise…

Right?

~''~

“Y/N! How was your- um.” Jungkook clears his throat, face burning red. He suddenly becomes very interested in a purple heart tattoo on his hand. “I… like your new… um…”

“Bikini?” You finish the sentence for him, blinking innocently.

“Erm… yes. B-bikini. It… suits you… very… um… well.” He’s still picking at the tattoo, cheeks flushed and voice stuttering.

“Thank you. Lumianne picked it out for me.” You smile sweetly, climbing down into the pool.

“Are you guys like best friends now?” He blurts out, trying oh so hard to change the subject. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You’re both annoying at times and you’re also both really… erm…”

“Un-stylish?” You suggest, trying hard not to smirk. You know what he’s talking about, and it’s not about style.

“No, um…”

“Like the color pink?”

“Not exactly, uh…”

“Then what is it?”

Jungkook’s face is a flaming crimson now, the skin where his tattoo is reddened from picking at it. He knows you know what he’s talking about. He knows you know that he was going to say that you’re both goddamn-

“You’re both attractive, although you’re way more attractive,” It comes out before he can control it, seeming like the words have a mind of their own as they stumble out of his mouth. “I-I mean…” You watch his hand flying up to cover his mouth.

"You think I'm attractive?" You question, smiling as your heart swelled with butterflies. "Well, you're also attractive.”

He smiles wide, bunny teeth showing and twinkly eyes dancing with something like shyness and joy mixed together.

“Th-thanks.”

You continue smiling at each other for a long time, and would’ve (for hours, maybe) if Lumianne hadn’t walked into the pool area holding onto the arm of an extremely tall and muscular blonde man. She smirks.

“Calvin, meet Y/N and Jungkook. Y/N’s the cute bookworm I went shopping with yesterday, and Jungkook’s that annoying guy with tattoos. Hey lovebirds. Looks like we’re in the middle of interrupting something…” She giggles. “So we’ll leave you two alone to smooch!”

Jungkook and you nearly topple over screaming a very loud “WE’RE NOT SMOOCHING” in perfect unison.

Calvin smiles mischievously. “Lumi, do you have your phone with you?”

Lumianne nods. “Yeah, why?”

“I think you should take a photo of them,” He smiles wider at the horrified look on your and Jungkook’s faces.

“Oh yeah.” Lumianne snickers. “I should totally take a photo. I already have an album in my phone of their pictures, btw. It’s called Jungkook&Y/N kissin in a tree. I should rename it though, I just learned Y/N wants to kiss JK at a fancy restaurant instead-”

“LUMIANNE!!”

The camera clicks.

“One more photo to add to my album!”

~''~

It’s your last lesson with Jungkook. 3 months passed quicker than you thought, and you’re sorry this might be the last time you see him. Lumianne seemed to notice you were a bit sad today, and she rushed off to “do something with Calvin”.

You knew what she was doing wasn’t about Calvin, but then… what?

When you entered the pool area, you were surprised to find that Jungkook wasn’t in the pool with his usual warm greeting. Instead, all you found was a note with messy handwriting reading: “hey Y/N, it’s kook :) meet me behind the APC building”. Furrowing your brow, you look around the pool. There’s no one except you.

Picking up the note, you walk out the doors.

~''~

Of everything you expected to see, none of it was Jungkook standing in front of you with wide, nervous eyes and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. “Jungkook?”

“Oh. You’re here. Um,” He looks around, although looking for something- or someone.

“Hey Y/N-pootsie,” Lumianne steps out, hair dark crimson with matching bold lipstick and eyeshadow. She smiles, looking very satisfied with herself. “I believe Mr. Jeon Jungkook has something to say to you.”

“Um,” Jungkook shoots her a look before clearing his throat. “I, um, in fact, do have… a thing… I mean, 2 things… to say… to… you…”

“Okay?” You stare at him, and it’s curious more than anything, but to him it just seems intimidating.

“Um… I… uh…” He swallows. “Ireallylikeyouandhavelikedyoufrom thefirstdaywemet and um doyouwannagoonadatewithme?”

You blink. "You... like me?"

"...Yes."

“I… I don’t know what to say to you. There’s just no way I could-”

“It’s okay!” Jungkook yells, hurt seeping into those eyes you loved watching crinkle up as he smiled. “I-I don’t want to pressure you or anything! I-”

“Jungkook.”

“Really! If you don’t feel-”

“Jungkook!”

He paused. “Yeah?”

“What I was going to say is that there’s just no way I could refuse something like this!” You say. His eyes go even wider.

“W-what?”

You kiss him.

He’s soft.

When you let go, Jungkook has the biggest dopey grin on his face. You mirror it, starting to laugh. Lumianne stands on the side with a small smile on her face, the kind of smile you give when your daughter gets married. Sort of half sad-ish half happy for her.

“Aww, you’re both so sweet. I guess it’s time for a ph-”

“NO, LUMIANNE!”

Click.

~''~

Whewwwwww! That was loads of fun to write. Welp, now that that's over, time for a new fic (or series!)

Please heart if you enjoyed, but don't reblog!

-*+ Rose +*-

#jungkook #bts jungkook #bts fluff #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #jungkook x you

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