#when it should have been ''only one year left to go''
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All Over Again
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: You're drunk. Your mate is trying to get you home. Only problem is—you're really, really drunk.
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: Drinking, absolutely zero attempt to establish a pov on my part
a/n: A cute little drabble because if it all fell is making me a tiny bit sad and I love this trope <3
Main Masterlist ♡
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The world spun around you as you let out a delighted laugh, faerie wine pulsing in your veins. This was bliss, and—admittedly—the most fun you’d had in months. The workload you’d been dealt this last year was one for the books.
“Exactly how many drinks did you have?” Feyre asked you, red and green rays lighting up her face in time with the beat inside Rita’s.
“So many,” you yelled back, flinging your arms around her shoulders. “So many and I’m going to have more!”
The High Lady chuckled and swayed with you as you dragged her around the dancefloor.
This was good for you, your friends had decided, a girl’s night where you could let go of all your responsibilities and inhibitions and then sleep for a solid two days afterward. Feyre and Mor had agreed to stay relatively sober to watch over you, but Mor was just as intoxicated as you were at this point.
“Mor!” you screamed, the shout directed fully into Feyre’s ear. She flinched, but you just continued. “Mor, come here! We can all dance together!”
The blonde was pulled into the circle of fae, but very little “dancing” took place. You were far past the level of functional inebriation.
“We should get Azriel,” Feyre shouted over your head, trying to catch the attention of her very distracted friend.
But Mor just laughed and asked, “Who the hell is that?” as she left the pair to join a woman in a dazzling purple dress at the bar.
Feyre bit back a sigh, still feeling patient with the small amount of alcohol running through her. “We should go home, yeah?” she attempted, catching your clutch as it tumbled out of your hands.
You responded with a loud, “Woo!” and Feyre knew she needed to call in reinforcements. A quick outstretch of her mind and the request was sent.
“This is so much fun!” Your smile was infectious, Feyre replicating it unconsciously as she watched you jump around. “I love you!” you screamed at her—again, directly into her ear.
It was a few short minutes before Azriel’s presence was felt inside the overcrowded pleasure hall. Small streams of black shadows had begun to slink around your shoulders and arms with you none the wiser to their arrival. Feyre smirked when you jumped at a hand on your back.
“Hello, my love,” Azriel said, voice low as he bent over to relay the words. “Having fun?”
Your responding screech had panic flashing across the spymaster’s face, the man simply watching as you threw yourself against Feyre’s chest. He sent a tentative hand out in your direction, but you only pressed further into your friend.
“Y/n—” Azriel began.
“I’m married,” you seethed. “I have a mate,” you doubled down.
Azriel blinked.
He looked around him, checking behind his tightly coiled wings and past the broad expanse of his shoulders.
When no other fae appeared to be lurking near his mate, Azriel returned his attention to the pair in front of him, his hazel eyes meeting your piercing (but rather hazy) glare.
“Y/n, I am… well aware that you have a mate,” he replied, shaking his head to match his slow words.
You scoffed, sending Feyre a glance as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?”
“Well, then you should be well aware—” A shaky, misguided finger pointed close to where Azriel was standing “—that I am not interested in you. Got that?”
A smile paired with furrowed brows conveyed the vast array of Azriel’s current feelings. He watched as you sent him another scathing glare and turned back to your High Lady, noticing the uneven way you stood and the handful of your belongings being managed by your friend.
“She’s had a lot to drink,” Feyre emphasized. “I’ve been trying to get her to go home but she won’t budge. I thought you’d be able to persuade her. She’s been talking about you nonstop.”
You were maneuvered into a quieter hallway as Feyre recounted your adventures of the night, making sure to catalog each drink she saw you consume. Azriel fought back a grimace as he pictured you in the morning. You had the worst hangovers.
“Y/n,” Feyre began, offering you an encouraging smile as you blearily blinked at her words. “Azriel’s here. Do you want to see him? He said he’d bring you home with him.”
This time, you gasped, face betraying you as it heated with embarrassment. “You called Azriel here?”
“Mhm, and he said he’s terribly exhausted and needs you to come home for the night.”
You gaped. “He wants me to come home with him?”
Standing at your back, Azriel felt his expression pucker in confusion. Hadn’t you just chastised him for flirting with you, a married woman? A married woman who was married to him?
Feyre seemed to agree with that sentiment as she nodded and said, “Of course he does. He always wants you with him.”
Your eyes grew wide, hands reaching out to grip Feyre’s shoulders in a serious motion. “Did you tell him?” you panicked. “Fey, you promised you wouldn’t tell him. It could ruin everything.”
Azriel was suddenly catapulted back about 20 years to when you were too nervous to tell him you were in love with him and Azriel was too much of an idiot to tell you that you were his mate. But that time had passed, thankfully, long ago. The two of you were now very much in love, both mated and married shortly after the inner circle had meddled in your affairs.
Looking past his disorientation, Azriel caught your wide, pleading gaze directed at Feye.
“Y/n?” he asked, craning his neck to catch your eyes. When you slowly turned in mortification, a soft kind of adoration pulled at his chest. “Hey,” he smiled. “I’m going to take you home, alright?”
“O-Okay,” you blushed, taking his outstretched hand in your own. “To my apartment?”
“No, I thought we’d go to mine. That alright?” he asked, voice gravelly and low and echoing off the long hallway inside Rita’s.
It didn't matter that you were actually going to his house. The one the two of you shared.
Instinctually, Azriel grabbed your hand, twinning his fingers with yours and pulling you closer. You, however, so drunk that you were unsure of your current whereabouts or today's date, let out a shaky breath at the intimacy. Azriel felt your fingers tremble between his own.
“Is this okay?” he found himself asking.
You nodded jerkily, and Azriel relished in the feeling of falling in love with you all over again. It was an immensely better experience than you pushing him away and accusing him of preying on married women.
His married woman, but that was beside the point.
A few steps in silence. You shivered with the rush of cool air outside the pleasure hall. Azriel shifted his wings out, enveloping you in their warmth.
“Um,” you began, fiddling with his fingers as they rested beside yours. “It’s really nice of you to walk me home.”
His heart was going to burst. Seeing you, his mate, so shy and reserved and hopelessly enamored by him in such a public way was endlessly endearing.
“Of course. I would never let you walk home alone,” he replied evenly. And then, to spice things up, he added, “I told you I would always protect you. I meant that.”
“You said th—”
You whipped your head to the side as you spoke, losing your balance with the alcohol coursing through you. Your feet fumbled over each other and Azriel caught your hip to deter you from making a full-on beeline for the ground. After he was sure you were not going to plummet to your death, he tucked your hair back from your face.
“You are my mate,” he said, so assuredly. It was a truth ingrained within him. “I will always walk you home.”
Your eyes went wide, fingers wrapped tightly around his arms as he held you. You held eye contact with your mate, a feat in and of itself with the state of your head, and he watched as your tongue came out to wet your lips.
And then, just because he could—because you were his and because you probably wouldn’t remember this in the morning—he whispered, “I love you.”
The sharp intake of breath that followed his words was apparently too much for your alcohol-addled brain. You let out a small squeak, blinked at him several times, and then, you fainted. Directly into your mate's arms.
Azriel carried you home (the one you two shared, to clarify yet again), silently laughing to himself, feeling quite smug at the outcome that night. 20 years and he still felt the same. 20 years and he was still in disbelief that he got to walk you home.
#azriel x reader#azriel x female!reader#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel fanfic#azriel spymaster#acotar#acotar fanfiction
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I cant insert a photo here on your ask but it goes something like
"Do whatever you want!!!" X said out of anger then character Y kissed him gently. "You said do whatever i want, right?"
whatever — choi seungcheol | 1,821 words | hurt/comfort, fluff
this prompt was really cute!!!
gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is stressed out? and in need of a hug?
you love the sounds that make the house you share with seungcheol your home.
you love hearing the door creak when you open it at that specific angle. you love the sound of the clock ticking in the living room that seungcheol himself picked out. you love the sound of him walking on the wooden floor of your house, the sound of his glass when it clinks against the marble of the kitchen island, the birds chirping in the evening when you take out time to just relax against him and watch the sun set, and the sound of his quiet snores when he insists he wants to watch you watch your favourite shows, only to end up falling asleep.
there’s none of that here, in this moment.
you take off your shoes and kick them to the side, not bothering to open the cabinet to put them inside because the doors make a particularly loud sound when they snap shut, and you don’t want to risk waking seungcheol up again.
it’s been an odd couple of weeks, with you staying out late because of more work and seungcheol staying in because his workload has been relatively less for the beginning of the new year. him being at home would’ve made you happy if you didn’t have to apologize for cancelling and rescheduling dates, or for being left with energy enough only for a bath and a quick dinner, movie plus cuddling sessions replaced by cuddling in your sleep. if you were lucky to get back home in time, that is.
you stop and listen for a few moments. there’s no sound to be heard. the door to your bedroom is shut, which means that seungcheol must have already gone to sleep.
a little pang of hurt stabs your heart. it’s not like you want him to keep late hours for you, but you’re not exactly doing well in these trying times, and you’d really love to have his voice wash out your worries.
a resounding bang from the kitchen startles you. before you can even think of the worst possible scenario that could’ve just transpired, seungcheol walks out of the kitchen, a rolling pin in one hand and some flour on his hair and his rolled up sleeves. the literal definition of a hot mess.
“hey, baby,” he says, eyes widening when he sees you. “i was expecting you to be back in an hour or two.”
so it’s that bad, huh? it’s become normal for him to expect you to come back even later? you focus on the stains on his clothes instead, and the rolling pin that seems so out of place in his hand. “what exactly are you doing?”
“nothing! well, nothing much. yet. maybe you should stay out of here for a while.”
one thing about seungcheol is that he never keeps secrets. he can’t tell you a white lie to save his life, much less a black lie. “cheol,” you say, frowning, “both of us know you don’t even cook. are you baking? and why’s there flour in your hair?”
“sieving accident,” he mumbles, so quiet that you almost don’t catch it.
“should i be afraid?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. you feel like your tears are a short distance away, and you really, really hope he’s done nothing more. something tells you that isn’t it, however.
“not really!” says seungcheol, but you can read him like glass at this point. the little nervous laugh and the way his nose twitches when he tries spinning facts makes you dread what you’re going to find inside. “maybe you should have a nice bath before you sleep? did you have dinner yet?”
you try to move past him into the kitchen but he blocks the entrance with his broad frame. the one time this isn’t sexy.
“cheol, let me in.”
“not until you tell me the password.”
“there’s a password now? what, something like choi seungcheol is the best?”
he giggles. “close.”
you sigh. “cheol, i’m really not in the mood to play games right now. please tell me what’s going on in there?”
he tries pulling that face, the one with the puppy eyes, where he looks at you so pleadingly that you’re generally ready to fold and do whatever he asks of you, but right now it just doesn’t work on you. the more evasive he is, the more worried you get. before he can react, you duck under his outstretched arms and into the kitchen.
rather, into the mess he’s made of the kitchen.
you’ve heard stories about junhui trying to bake. they sounded absolutely hilarious, and you’ve always wondered how he could mess up so bad that he managed to land waffle batter on the ceiling. especially when he didn’t even own a ladder to try and clean it.
it’s not funny when it’s your house that has some batter on the walls. at least it’s not the ceiling, you think, a bit hysterical, until you see flour on the…everywhere. it’s just everywhere. the counter, near the sink, in front of the oven like it’s a modern day trail of breadcrumbs that hansel and gretel would’ve followed. there’s also baking supplies scattered all over, an extremely huge sheet of baking paper lining a tray that’s sitting next to a bunch of bowls.
it’s a mess, to say the least.
“i’m sorry,” seungcheol says, gently turning you away from the sight of it. he winces when he sees your face. you don’t even know what your face looks like. all you know is that you’re tired, that you need a break, and that the last thing you would have liked to see today was your boyfriend’s face while he was peacefully asleep, and not…this.
you shake your head but no words come out.
“i’m sorry,” seungcheol repeats, setting the rolling pin down on the counter. a comical little cloud of flour rises and settles. what kind of accident even was that? “i was just…trying to bake.”
“cheol, you didn’t even know why we use baking soda till last week!”
“hey!” he says, defensive. “i asked you so i could learn. and i know this isn’t great, but—” his words dry up when he notices where your gaze lies — on the batch of cookies that are burned beyond belief.
you can’t believe your eyes, either. you’re not the biggest baker in the world, but you’ve never burned anything you’ve baked. especially not in your first attempt. maybe you’d have given up the courage to bake again if that had happened, but seungcheol clearly isn’t that bothered by it.
you don’t know if it’s because of how pitiful they look, or how long your day has been, but you feel a lump rise in your throat.
“you never even do this,” you whisper, only focusing on his face and not the mess around you. “why did you think you had to do this today?”
“am i not allowed to try things if i want to?” he asks, crossing his arms.
“it’s not that, cheol,” you say, trying to be as reasonable as possible. “i’d ask you for some help before trying something i’ve never done before. you never, ever do this. only when i ask you to help me. why today?”
“because i wanted to,” he says, almost flippant. “i’ll clean it up before you know it.”
but it’s not about the mess. it’s not about the burnt cookies. it’s not about the way he tried to block you from seeing the state of the kitchen. it’s the finality in his tone. it’s the fact that it’s not a big deal to him because he hasn’t had the day you’ve had.
seungcheol’s eyes widen when he sees your lips tremble. “are you seriously mad at me? for baking?”
“do whatever you want,” you hiss, tired and angry, feeling a single tear slide down your cheek. “i shouldn’t have looked inside.” you turn to walk away before it becomes a full fledged cascade of tears, but you don’t go far because of the hand holding on to your wrist.
“stop,” he says, holding you strong enough that it becomes futile to try and escape.
“let me go, seungcheol,” you say, avoiding his face.
“oh, no,” he breathes out, and the next thing you know is that your face is cradled in his hands and there’s a warm kiss pressed to your forehead. and your nose. and your lips. and it keeps repeating till you push him away, your face in his hands. you can feel the ugly emotions inside you ebbing away slowly, reducing to small embers that prickle the slightest bit.
“what are you doing?” you ask weakly.
“you said do whatever i want, right?” he asks, a smile on his face.
that gets you to break, for some reason. you would’ve forgiven him even if he’d gotten batter on the ceiling, because this — the sight of seungcheol with flour in his otherwise perfect hair, wearing an old shirt and beaming at you even though you’ve snapped at him — kills even those small embers.
you press your face to his chest and let the tears out silently.
seungcheol rubs your back. “hey,” he says softly. “let it out, okay? and i’m sorry about the mess. i meant it when i said i’ll clean—”
“it’s not that,” you whisper. “just…hold me?”
seungcheol complies, and you find yourself swaying in his hold in the silence of your house.
“want to talk to me about it?” he offers when you pull away, feeling slightly better. “i’m—”
“stop apologizing to me, cheol,” you say, laughing a little wetly. “it’s not the kitchen. i’ve just…i’ve been missing you like crazy and i miss just being with you without doing anything. i hate coming home late and seeing you asleep by yourself in our bed. i want…i want things to go back to the way they were.”
“so, a bad week?”
“more than one.”
“but you have me here at the end of every single day, right?” seungcheol says, pushing up the corners of your lips to make you smile. you do smile, but it’s because of the cute grin he has on his face. “we’ll get through it before you know it.”
you sigh. “it sounds good when you say it like that.”
“because i mean it. also, one more thing.”
“yeah?”
“please don’t ever call me by my whole name again.”
“only if you mess up the kitchen that bad again.”
“hey!”
“also, why were you baking in the first place?”
“because i wanted to cheer you up,” he says, sheepish, and you want to do nothing more than hold his face and kiss him silly.
“you’re an idiot, baby,” you say, cradling his face in your hands. “but you’re my idiot. and i love you.”
seungcheol’s blushing face is quite possibly enough to get you through tomorrow.
taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu
#alternative title: everything everywhere flour at once#scoups#scoups fluff#seungcheol#choi seungcheol#choi seungcheol fluff#seventeen#seventeen fluff#svt#svt fluff#fluff#coups#waldau writes#req
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betting on all three for us two
pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader
summary: you think you like being a little more friendly and a little less competition with luke castellan this year. a sequel to this fic
word count: 3.1k
warnings: none
author's note: frat luke my dearly beloved loser son who studies pre-med this is for you you know who you are i love you
1.
The fall semester comes at you faster than you’d like, this rapid change from a golden summer to the crisp air of being back on campus. You’re rooming with someone from an old anthropology elective you took, Silena finally moving into her sorority house. It should feel weirder, how everything has changed since spring break.
You take the opportunity to build new habits. Early runs, no caffeine after 2pm. Little things that make the day go a tiny bit faster, building blocks to fit around your class schedule. Silena schedules weekly lunches for the three of you and there’s this gravity to it all that you want to study.
It had been nice to be home for a few months. Your mom had missed having you there, being able to show you the new flowers she planted, how the lemon tree in the yard is twisting weirdly. Board games and family dinners and friends who never left your town. Being back home was resetting. Being back on campus was restarting.
Lee catches you as you leave the gym, offering to walk you to class if you’re heading in that direction. You smile, telling him that you have a late start and pretend he doesn’t frown when your phone buzzes. He mentions that he’s thinking of starting a study group for one of your classes and you tell him you’ll think about joining.
While he heads towards the main building, you make your way to the campus coffee shop - caught behind the early risers desperate for something to get them through their first lecture of the day.
“Can I get a flat white and an iced americano with caramel to go please?” You smile at the girl working the counter, stepping aside to glance at your watch.
You run through your schedule for today, ignoring the text that comes through. You know exactly what it says, the same thing every morning, and you don’t even bother to roll your eyes at this point.
“I can’t believe you ignored my text,” Luke says when you reach the courtyard between the library and the medical building. “Not even a flame emoji.”
You stop in front of him, drinking in the jeans and sweater combination he’s settled on today. It’s a really nice sweater, dark blue and a little baggy. You wonder how quickly he’d notice it going missing. Probably not as quickly as he’d notice the stupid hat he’s wearing go missing. His backpack leans against the bench, pristine.
“No one uses those except you,” you shake your head, handing him the iced drink. “What time does your lecture start?”
Luke tells you as if he really needs to. It’s this thing you’ve started doing since the semester began, acting like you don’t know his schedule as well as your own. As if the both of you haven’t fallen into this routine in just a few weeks. Like it’s not a highlight of your day.
Clarisse thinks it’s adorable. Chris thinks it’s hilarious. You think it’s nice to have someone to share your free time with, beyond whatever else you and Luke have. It had been a fear of yours, when Silena mentioned not sharing a dorm with you, that you would fall to the sidelines. That life would come with these new priorities for everyone and you would only be fourth or fifth on their lists, too cemented in the day-to-day that you’d be forgotten.
Morning coffee with Luke stops that fear.
“Did Silena tell you about the party on Friday?”
“I have a study group in the afternoon,” Luke says, swirling his plastic cup around so the ice clinks together. “If I do go, I’m showing up late.”
“Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for you there, Castellan.”
He laughs and it’s like summer again. There’s something insane about hearing Luke laugh like this, unbroken and loud, nothing like it had been over the phone while you were back home.
“You’ve got dinner with Silena and Clarisse tonight, right?” He asks, swinging his bag over one shoulder. You throw your empty cup into the trash can as you both start walking. “Is there any point in asking if you want to come round after?”
You knock his arm with your shoulder, laughing, and, instead of feigning hurt like usual, Luke just takes your hand in his, the skin a little colder than you expect. Gazing down at your linked hands, you bite your lip before sighing.
“If I’m home before eleven, I’ll consider it.”
Last year, when you first met him, you thought Luke only got that determined glint in his eyes when he was competing. That it was a sign of an unanticipated thrill. Since then, you’ve learnt that it’s not that at all. It’s this thing that ignites within him, determined and passionate and a little boyish.
You think it might be one of your favorite things about him.
“I will take that deal.”
2.
You wish you could say you were a little drunk. At least that way you would have something to blame. As it stands, you’re stone cold sober, maybe a little tired from class but nothing that can really be blamed for the lack of weight your actions seem to have right now.
The only thing you can blame, and you will, is the boy next to you, completely engrossed in the movie playing. They’d been watching it when you arrived, all settled on the couches and you assume this is something they do regularly, and at any other time you might’ve called it cute.
Not tonight. Not when you walked in to the discovery that Luke wears glasses and you didn’t know about it. It was something you played off, making a joke and settling into the cushions beside him. In the time since, Chris has left for his date with Clarisse and Charlie has pulled out some work to go through in the corner of the room.
“What’s up?” Luke asks when he realizes you’ve hardly moved in ten minutes, barely even breathing. And it’s the worst possible thing he could do, glance down through the frames with that small smile you’ve gotten used to and curls loose.
“Nothing’s up,” you let your eyes trail back to the screen. “This is a very cute tradition you guys have going on.”
Charlie lets out a little laugh from across the room. You feel the way Luke exhales against the side of your face. You think you’re able to go back to pretending everything is normal, make a joke and enjoy the rest of the movie. The second you feel Luke’s fingertips on the skin of your knee, gentle and warm, you know you can’t.
“You’re swerving,” he whispers, throwing a quick glance at Charlie to see if he can hear but the other boy is engrossed in his work. “Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing,” you bite the inside of your cheek when he nods encouragingly, incredibly aware of the patterns he’s tracing on your skin. “I just think it’s interesting that you’d choose to wear a hat all the time when the glasses are right there.”
“What?”
His hand stills and you wait. You wait and you stare at the shape of his jaw and you chuckle when it finally clicks, his adam’s apple shifting as he swallows the conclusion down. “Are you saying you like my glasses?”
You don’t like how uneven this all feels. Whenever you’ve been with Luke so far, there’s been this mutual balance that you’ve grown used to. Even before now, back when you were locked in silly competitions, you did it on even footing, the expectation that everything meant nothing and you wouldn’t be affected.
This, the way Luke grins around the realization, hand moving to rest on your thigh, is different. It’s heavier. It’s a loss after a winning streak and you’re kind of obsessed with the way it could drag you down.
“I just think that hat is stupid.”
“Yeah, okay,” Luke nods and you know, even if he doesn’t do it outright, he’s laughing. He’s categorizing the information you’ve just given him, placing it where it belongs in his mind, and it’s going to bite you in the ass. “Tell me more.”
“Luke,” you mutter, gritting your teeth. His fingertips brush against the hem of your shorts and, when you glare at him for it, he just shrugs. You throw a glance over in Charlie’s direction. Still nothing. “Are you insane?”
He tilts his head like he’s considering the question carefully. If Charlie were to look over, you know he’d assume you were locked in a debate about something silly - a staple of you and Luke - and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t know for a second that you were holding onto Luke’s wrist, his hand itching to move just a little to the left.
You sigh and the boy beside you raises an eyebrow. You both know that you’ve lost this round.
When you press your lips to his bicep as the film credits roll, warm even through the fabric of his shirt, you mumble, “I really like your glasses.”
3.
You aren’t used to watching things from a crowd. You’re used to focusing on yourself, on your team - not watching from a distance, surrounded by people who are there purely for enjoyment. There’s no winning from the stands.
Luke doesn’t know you’re here. You’d sent him a text that morning wishing him luck, arranging to meet him when his debate was over. You hadn’t bothered to message him when your afternoon class got canceled, choosing instead to race across campus and find a seat in the dim auditorium they’re using.
There isn’t the crackle of energy you get from swimming, or from watching Luke during track sessions. It’s less intense, for sure, a balance between the fire you know exists within him when he’s competing and the confidence he has in his own intelligence. You’ve argued with Luke, stupid things that neither of you care to take too seriously, and this is just the next stage of that.
He’s got his glasses on, you note, when the debate gets underway. He’s wearing his lucky green polo, even if he’d never personally call it that, and he’s switched his smartwatch out for an analogue one. The cheap biro you’re used to seeing him use has been replaced by a fancy silver pen that he still taps against his thigh while thinking. He’s sitting straighter than usual, shoulders back.
It’s almost like meeting him for the first time, focused and confident and sharp at the edges.
You’re kind of obsessed with it.
An hour and a winning handshake later, you make your way through the small crowd leaving to find Luke in conversation with one of his teammates. She smiles as you wrap an arm around his waist from behind, the slight tension still lingering in his bones melting away when he realizes it’s you.
“What are you doing here?” He says, turning enough that he’s actually facing you now. The girl waves you both goodbye. “I thought you had class.”
“Professor Chase had to cancel. His daughter got sent home from school with a fever.”
Luke nods, pressing his lips to the top of your head quickly. “You didn’t have to come to my debate.”
In the few months you’ve known Luke, you’ve learnt more about him than you expected to. You know from summer that Connecticut means looking after his sick mother, that he’s hoping to introduce some new charity events to ksig, that he used to go to a summer camp growing up. You know that his dad never showed up for anything and that he sits in the stands of all of your swim meets regardless of whether it cuts into his study time or not.
More than all of that, you know that the way he’s gazing at you now, a cross between awe and something deeper, is going to drive you crazy one day. You hope he can read the same expression on your face.
“Thank you for coming,” he says when everyone is finally dismissed, an arm thrown across your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. You loop a finger around one of his, just because you want to. “It means a lot.”
“I told you I would,” and you had, months ago, staring at Luke’s bedroom ceiling, back when you were still caught in the casualness of it all. When Luke was just someone you pretended you weren’t trying to bump into at parties. You’d told him that you would show up for him if you ever got the chance. He’d rolled his eyes, throwing a blanket over you both and told you to go to sleep. He’d drifted off with his nose pressed against your neck. “I keep my word, Castellan.”
“I know.”
In the evening light of campus, you think it might mean something more. Buried under the timing and the bitter wind until it’s a promise only you and Luke could translate. Asking him about where he wants to go for dinner, you like that no one else could understand the depth of it.
+1.
Silena catches your attention as you enter the kitchen, grinning wildly and explaining her concept for tonight. Drew gave her permission to throw this week’s party, something themed and fun and it’s something she’s so proud of that you can’t help but grin back at her energy.
“Even Charlie came,” she tells you excitedly, handing you a drink. “I feel like tonight is going to be it.”
In all the years you’ve known her, she’s been counting down to it. You don’t exactly understand the fundamentals of what it is, if it’s a real thing or something she can just sense intrinsically. There have been moments where she’s thought of it before, mentioned it offhandedly before shaking her head - as if knowing she was wrong.
“What even is it?” You ask and, for the first time, she breathes deeply instead of shrugging it off.
“The beginning of the end,” she says and that doesn’t exactly explain anything. “Everything is about to change.”
You still don’t really get it, but she’s as confident in this as she is about her clothes, so you nod like you understand. She sends you away not long after that, turning her attention to the new group that’s just walked through the doorway, mentioning that you need to be in the basement in about an hour and you just accept your fate, moving into the next room and falling into conversation with Rachel.
*
Luke slips into the basement just as Silena starts yelling for everyone to do so, catching your eye across the room and waving. When you’re all instructed to sit down in a circle, you wonder exactly what Silena has planned for tonight. When she places a near empty bottle down in the center of you all, you laugh.
“Are we actually playing spin the bottle?” Chris asks, prompting a murmured chorus of agreement from everyone else in the room. Silena frowns at him.
“Wanna bet he ends up getting the most into it?” Luke whispers in your ear and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Loser has to buy the coffee tomorrow morning.”
“You’re on,” you bump your fist to his to seal the deal. “I think he’s gonna get bored by round 3.”
“Only boring people get bored of this game. It’s about drive.”
“It’s about power?” Luke lets out a laugh and Silena turns her glare to you. “Sorry.”
She starts to explain the rules of the game, as if you’re all twelve again, and you bite your lip harder with every comment Luke makes under his breath. It’s a little mean, a little stupid, and you wish you were fifteen again, playing a proper game of spin the bottle for the first time.
Nothing much happens for the first few rounds, Chris starting to grumble the longer the game goes on. Luke clicks his tongue when you point it out, cursing his best friend like this was the worst thing that could’ve happened to him.
Lee spins and it’s like cosmic interference when the bottle stops between you and Luke, the two of you glancing at each other and then back towards Lee.
“Should I spin it again?” Lee asks when no one says anything. Silena shakes her head and says, “You can choose or we can vote if that makes you more comfortable.”
“Please let us vote,” Chris shouts, animated and you narrow your eyes at him, ignoring the smug smile Luke gives you. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”
Lee glances between you both again, at where your knee rests against Luke’s thigh and the beer you’ve been sharing for the past twenty minutes sits between you. “It might be better to vote.”
“Sure,” Silena smiles before silencing you all. “Everyone that wants Lee to kiss Luke, raise your hands.”
You raise your hand and Luke mumbles beside you, flicking your leg and you poke him in return. Anything to avoid kissing Lee Fletcher after two years of avoiding it.
“That is an overwhelming majority,” Silena says and you know, just by the way her eyes slide over to you, that she didn’t even bother to actually count. “Lee, you may now kiss Luke.”
There’s this moment where you think Lee is going to just leave but instead he stares at the boy next to you, the relaxed set to his jaw, the annoying baseball cap on his head, how he’s so unbothered by it all. You watch as something clicks in his mind, you really want to know what it is.
Whatever it was, it makes him grab the bottle again, ignoring Silena’s protests. It lands on the girl from Luke’s debate team and she straightens her back ever so slightly.
“Silena,” Lee says as he leans towards the girl. “I’m not going to kiss Luke or his girlfriend.”
“Damn straight,” Luke mumbles, grabbing your hand from your lap and holding it in his instead. It’s stupid and it really doesn’t matter to either of you, you know that, but there’s this way he says it - almost like it’s the worst thing he could’ve imagined - and it settles in your gut with the beer you’ve been drinking. “Me or my girlfriend.”
“I’d really like to meet her,” you say, laughing when he huffs and pulls his hat down on your head. When you push the visor up to see him properly, all rosy cheeks and compacted curls, you think you might have found it. Whatever it is.
Based on the way Luke’s nose scrunches and his eyes crinkle, you think he understands that too.
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I’m Tired Anyways
Jungkook x bubbly OC
playlist • original scene •
WC: 2K
In which Jungkook shows you he genuinely cares about you in his own way
💗: HEAVENLY inspired by that one scene in ‘When I Fly Towards You’! If you want to see the original scene I based this fic off of I linked it above and it starts at minute 19:32 💗 !
note: I wrote this fairly quick so please excuse mistakes 🥲
You wish you could stare at her with a genuine smile but how could you? There she was standing with your Jungkook! Maybe not yours yet but eventually your Jungkook!
You watched as they stood in front of a stand looking at all the souvenirs displayed on the table along with a variety of other objects.
“Are you aware you’re pouting like a kid who was just told no?” You stare back at your best friend of 4 years and let out a breathy sigh.
“Sua, do you think they’re still close?”
“Considering this is their first time seeing one another after 2 years…no,” you begin to smile, “but who says people can’t reconnect,” and it goes away in an instant.
“You’re not helping,” you say fully turning and staring at the variety of sunglasses on the rack in front of you.
“You know I’m only joking! You can’t seriously be this upset because Jungkook and a girl from his old school are catching up,”
You walked out of your English exam tired as fuck. You looked at the other students walking out along with you and every single one looked tired. Your exam group had to get up at 6 AM for your test which would be from 7 AM to 10 AM.
Not all 3 hours were used but if you wanted a good mark than you better use them. As you walked down the ramp to the exit you catch a glimpse of Jungkook walking back and forth clearly waiting for you at the exit.
“Jungkook!” you run to him with a completely different emotion from the prior. His group was slightly luckier with their test only being 2 and a half hours long.
“I thought your test ended a half hour ago. Were you waiting for me?” you liked to tease him. He wasn’t big on emotions but even a smile would do for you.
“Oh- uh I just came out now,” you can tell he was bluffing but let it go realizing your other three friends weren’t with him.
“Have Sua, Jimin, and Minhyuk not finished their tests?” you question as you watch his eyes trail to the left and stared at the three crouching on the floor.
“She’s so in love with him she doesn’t even notice us,” you hear Minhyuk say as you smile shyly at Jungkook as he lets a barely audible laugh.
The three walk towards you and Jungkook.
“Well I need some food in my system. Should we look up places to eat here?” Jimin’s already taking his phone out before you can all agree but all your attention is quickly taken when you hear a voice call Jungkook’s name.
“Jungkook! Is that you? I thought I recognized you!” it was an older man walking towards your group with a girl who looked your age.
“Mr. Fukutomi,” Jungkook turns and greets the elder with a handshake. He wore a green badge signifying he was a teacher.
“It’s been a while since I last saw you! You remember my granddaughter, Tsuki,” she waves at your entire group and you try your best to keep a smile.
He remembers her?
“I’m assuming you came here to take your annual science exam? How was it?”
“I did and it was fine. I enjoy science a lot,” he speaks as the four of you just watch and listen to their interaction.
“Well it’s almost lunch time. Have you all eaten?” he asks and stares at us all.
“We were just on our way sir,” you hear Minhyuk behind you. You could hear the desperation in his voice for this conversation to end so he could finally grab some food.
“You should let Tsuki show you around town and then have lunch together afterward. She practically grew up here,” the elder suggests making a hand movement towards Tsuki who just smiled.
Again. You hear Minhyuk let a quiet sigh at the thought of doing something before eating.
“Oh we wouldn’t want to bothe-” ”Nonsense! I’m sure you two would like to catch up too!” he cuts off Jungkook before wishing you all a great day and walking away.
You all wave goodbye to him and watch Tsuki walk closer to you guys.
“I know this great sight seeing area but we need to walk a bit far for it,” she says.
“You think we can grab some snacks or something first,” Jimin asks.
“Of course. We can stop at the souvenir shop around the corner. They sell tons of snacks from around the world,” she explains.
“Lead the way,” Jimin replies as she lets out a small laugh and you all begin walking.
You walk shoulder to shoulder with Jungkook before realizing Tsuki was on his other side and they were laughing and conversating so you walk slower to be with Sua who was behind you.
“What’s wrong?” she notices your head slightly down as you wrap your arm around hers. You don’t even realize when Jungkook took notice of you leaving his side as he stared back at you.
You looked upset which worried him. Maybe he’ll ask you when you guys arrive at the shop.
“Tsuki’s pretty,”
“So are you, Y/N,” she replies.
“Tsuki seems smart,”
“So are you, Y/N. Stop sulking before I tell Tsuki to leave. Besides you know how head over heels Jungkook is for you,”
No. You don’t. Often times your friend group would tease you and Jungkook and would always say how in love he was with you but you never fully saw it.
Sure he’s defended you multiple times, has come to your rescue on multiple occasions, and always walks you home but maybe that was just him being nice.
He’d have to do much more for you to feel fully confident in his feelings towards you.
“Stop it. You would never,” you say leaning your head on her shoulder following the pace of the group.
“Tsuki!” you hear her call out and immediately panic resulting in you giving her a minor hit on her arm before staring at Tsuki and smiling at her. You end up making eye contact with Jungkook who also turned around.
“Nothing! Are we almost there?” Sua ask.
“We’re here!” she says pointing the bright shop filled with a variety of snacks.
Jimin and Minhyuk run inside grabbing snacks they know your group would enjoy leaving you, Sua, Jungkook, and Tsuki outside to stare at all the keychains, bracelets, and postcards.
Tsuki drags Jungkook over to a table opposite of you and Sua before she begins picking out random items.
“Got them! Let’s go” Jimin and Minhyuk walk out of the store with 1 bag filled to the brim of snacks for the 6 of you.
Tsuki begins to lead the group once more to a different destination in mind.
This time she led you to a steep hill. Not too steep but steep enough. You felt your legs giving out just from looking at it.
“I told you guys it was a bit of a walk but I promise the sights on the way up are so worth it!” she says with desperation in her voice hoping you all wouldn’t mind.
When you got ready this morning you weren’t exactly dressing for a hike.
Tsuki smiles and begins walking up and was followed by Jungkook and wherever Jungkook goes so do Jimin and Minhyuk.
“Let’s go,” Sua says walking a slower pace then the rest yet you still felt the burn after some time.
“Up ahead is a famous landmark if you guys want to go even further. You can see further out and it’s pretty during the day. Besides it’s a weekday and not many people are around if you guys are up for it,” Tsuki told the group.
You had all been walking for about 20 minutes and had finally reached an area with a bench and a sight.
“Is it the same one that people post all over their Instagram accounts to seem adventurous? Because if so, I am in,” Jimin’s eyes light up
“Yeah I mean we’re already here,” Minhyuk says with energy received after eating a bar of chocolate.
The group begins to move again before you interrupt.
“You guys go ahead! I’m going to rest here and wait for you guys. My shoes are making it slightly uncomfortable to walk,” you voice gets audibly quieter as you speak.
You look at Jungkook whose eyes don’t leave yours for a second watching you lift your leg off the ground just slightly to ease the tension in it.
“I’ll stay with you if you want,” Sua says staring at you.
“It’s fine, really, go enjoy the view,” you say looking back at the group and realizing his eyes haven’t left your face at all.
His expression read worried before his attention was pulled by Tsuki, “Jungkook, let’s go?” she begins walking away and Jungkook stares at you one last time before following suit.
You watch as the rest of the group continues walking uphill and sit on the bench staring out.
It had been about half an hour since the group left and you were growing bored.
As you take out your phone a hand reaches in front of your face holding a carton of strawberry milk with a straw poked in.
Jungkook always does it for you.
“You didn’t go with the rest of the group?” you say smiling up at him and take the strawberry milk from his hands.
“I saw a stand of drinks when we were walking and you said strawberry milk always makes you feel better,” you listen to him as you take a sip of the sweet drink and watch him sit next to you.
“Besides, I’m tired anyways,” he looks back up to where the group originally left from before speaking once more, “…they’re probably going to take a while. Do you want to explore?” he says looking at you.
“Explore?” you stare at him as he smiles at you and begins grabbing your bag and placing it over his shoulder and allowing you to get up before walking a bit further down.
“Tsuki failed to mention there’s a cable car that takes you directly to the land mark,” Jungkook says leading you to the cable car waiting for passengers.
“Oh my god if Sua found out about this she would be so annoyed! She was also starting to get irritated with all the walking,” you say taking another sip of your drink.
He’s staring at you like you hung the stars and leads you to the cable car before the two of you sit and watch the trees pass by as the machine gets higher and higher.
“You’re not afraid?” he says looking over at you and you shake your head.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of when I’m with you,” you say with the biggest smile and he stares away before you can watch his face flush
From there you completely forgot about your friends, Tsuki, and time.
Jungkook led you to other areas he thought you’d like. He bought you both ice cream and even bought you a small plushie to put on your bag because you said it reminded you of him. Eventually you two ended up on the beach collecting shells and staring at the sunset. Afterwards you decided to enjoy the view from the pier.
You watched him staring out at the birds flying above the waters and promised yourself you wouldn’t give up. Even if it took you years for him to reciprocate his feelings you would not be giving up.
When he turned to stare at you it caused you to immediately fluster and face the sea pretending you weren’t staring.
He was the one watching you this time. He was thinking about the carnival that’s coming to your city soon. He was thinking about the fireworks they would be releasing at 10 PM sharp. He was thinking about how you would react to him asking you out.
Would you turn him down? Jungkook was well aware your feelings for him were serious but he was never sure how to make it obvious he too had them.
Would you say yes and kiss him like you had in his dreams?
He would just have to wait and hope for it all to workout.
#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook fluff#jungkook fic#jungkook imagine#jungkook x oc#jungkook x reader#bts#bts jungkook
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We've been talking for millions of years
Aziraphale was clearly taken by Angel!Crowley from the moment he met him. I think the 6000 years could be read as when the whole human breeding thing starts. Even God says there's been many nice days in the Garden. How many? The count didn't start until the day they left Eden I think.
When we meet Aziraphale and Angel!Crowley in Before the Beginning, Earth was still an idea in the works. And the War didn't happen. Or Crowley surely would have been more cautious.
So I hope they have met and talked and Crowley grumbled about how unfair it all was.
And Aziraphale tried to placate him that it will all work out somehow, there’s a Plan.
And they kept meeting, Crowley showing Aziraphale the prettiest corners of the universe, Aziraphale telling Crowley exciting developments re: Earth.
I wouldn’t try to guess at how far their relationship has gone… maybe relationships of the kind we know now weren’t invented yet and still, these two loved each other without knowing anything about it.
After all, no other angels seem to have ANY relationships of any kind. Apart from higher or lower levels of condescension towards each other.
Then the Great War came and tore them apart. After knowing each other for millions of years and their close more-than-friendship, their world falls apart.
After all, Crowley tried to do the right thing. And Aziraphale did too but it wasn’t to be. Yet.
But. Their story wasn’t finished yet.
Aziraphale is relieved when he’s sent down to Earth to guard the brand new humans from the demons he has heard that the damned angels have been turned into.
He’s a bit fearful about the whole thing but glad to be away and keen, if a bit anxious to see the project he’s discussed/worked on for so long.
Crowley hates Hell. He hates it cos it’s not what he wanted or what he thought he was joining. He has been lied to. He’s not regretting his decision to turn his back on Heaven, no. He still thinks they’ve made too many crappy decisions. But he despises what the Rebellion became.
When Beelzebub asks for a volunteer to go up to the new planet and tempt the fresh innocent human couple into joining them, he volunteers, even if only to escape the claustrophobic walls and the mess nobody ever clears up.
Tempting comes easy to him. He imagines talking to his lost friend. ‘But why wouldn’t you try fruit from this one tree. What’s the problem with knowing things anyway? Wouldn’t you want to decide by yourself Eve? And Eve does make a decision.
Crowley’s worried now. Not for himself. He’s without hope but did he hurt humans by doing this. He didn’t mean to. He doesn’t really want them to go to Hell. Or Heaven for that matter. He only thinks they should be free to make their own choices. If only he had someone to talk to.
He spotted a distant angel earlier. Reminded him of, of… the light hair...anyway. They held a flaming sword but surely he can dodge that if needs be.
He could just try for a simple chat. He has no idea how demons are talked about in Heaven. But he guesses the angel might just try to smite him. Worth the risk.
Everything feels so raw and strange here. Maybe stealing a bit of familiarity will help him settle his nerves.
He decides to slither over and ask how the angel feels about what’s been done. Will they be furious. Hurt? Guilty?
Oh. It’s him. It’s too late now. Always too late. It’s him. Aziraphale. Aziraphale. It is HIS angel. What is he going to do. FUCK!
Well. No better way to find out.
He could just tease him like the old times. What's the worst that can happen.
Shitfuck but he smells good. These new senses will take a while to get used to:
“Well that went down like a lead balloon.”
A lead balloon? Whatthefuck even is that. Oh for Someone's sake.
Aziraphale’s standing on top of the Garden wall, squeezing his fingers with worry - what exactly has happened.
What has possessed him to give away his sword. Did he disappoint God? Heaven? It doesn’t FEEL wrong to help them.
If only he had someone to talk to.
Another angel?
What. A snake?
Oh.
Oh.
They are changing. Could it be? His heart will surely explode into million pieces…!!!!
A lead balloon?!?
“Sorry what was that?”
Does he remember me?
I think he does. I think he does. He’s here. As lovely as always.
I’ll keep him safe. Safe. I will keep him safe this time.
#good omens#aziraphale#crowley#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#good omens 2#aziraphale my beloved#good omens thoughts#before the beginning#garden of eden#good omens eden#kaypost
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Hi hope you’re doing well!
How do you think Alastor, Husk, and Angel would be with a S/O who struggles to perform basic tasks/ get out of bed because of PTSD/ depression?
Headcanons Severe emotional state
🕷 Angel Dust x Reader 💖
Angel knew that there were a lot of bad things in your life. Even after death, when you were in Hell, you did not forget what happened to you and it left a mark on you. You had PTSD, which made life difficult for you, but Angel was there and tried to help you at least a little, as much as he could help you at all
He was the one who insisted that you should move to a hotel. He only offered it to you after he moved there himself. Angel knew that you were having difficulty doing your daily chores, so he felt calmer when he knew that not only he was with you, but also other people who were ready to help and support you
Angel often came to you at night. He knew you were having serious trouble sleeping, so he was looking out for you. You could stay awake for a long time, you could have nightmares, and in the morning it often happened that it was difficult for you to even get out of bed. Angel was there to at least help you with your nightmares. He didn't want you to feel bad alone when you wake up from a nightmare in the middle of the night
Angel understood that it was so easy for you to forget about what happened to you, so he tried to be there for you and support you. You didn't tell him exactly what happened to you, but Angel knew that when you were ready, you would tell him everything. He wasn't going to force you to tell him things that were hard for you to remember. In the meantime, he was just there for you and supported you as best he could
📻 Alastor x Reader 🎙
Alastor understood that you had problems from the first day you met. It was hard for you to do even the usual daily tasks. Sometimes you didn't even have the strength to get out of bed. The reason for this was depression, which has been with you for several years now
Every time Alastor broke into your day when you couldn't find the strength. He found ways to influence you, even though he couldn't get you out of depression. That's why he told Charlie about your condition, who took it very seriously and tried her best to help you. You knew you weren't hiding your condition, but you guessed who really told her everything
Alastor knew that at some point your condition could worsen even more, so he was there. When you had nightmares, he was there for you. He wasn't someone who could really help you with nightmares, but you felt safer when you knew that he wasn't hiding in the shadows, but was really next to you and you could rely on him
There were a lot of bad things in your life and Alastor wasn't the perfect person to be around, but he stayed close. He was the stability that he had from his life and you were glad that he was. You could have been much worse off without him. Some people didn't understand why you were so attached to Alastor, but next to him you really had more reasons to feel alive
🃏 Husk x Reader 🥃
You and Husk have known each other for a long time. He saw you in the most difficult moments of your life and tried to be there for you. It was very hard for you before you died. You've been through a lot of terrible things and now, in Hell, you had PTSD. Husk knew how hard it could be for you, so he tried to make sure that your condition did not worsen
You often sat with him at the bar, but Husk never gave you alcohol. He didn't want you to try to numb your pain with addiction, knowing that it would only make it worse. That's why he tried to find other ways for you to deal with difficult memories
Every morning he came to your room and checked that you were up. He knew that it was hard for you to get up in the morning, so he came to you and made sure that you would not spend the whole day in bed because you did not have the strength to get out of bed. Over the years that you were together, he learned exactly what to do in such situations
Husk didn't know if it was possible to completely cope with your PTSD, but he stayed by your side and helped you live as normal a life as possible. He was there for you and was ready to help you at least try to cope with the nightmares that have been haunting you so far
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel headcanons#Angel Dust#Angel Dust x Reader#Husk#Husk x Reader#Alastor#Alastor x Reader
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A Goodbye to The Bad Batch
I don’t even know what to say first. Because this is goodbye, but it is also everything but. But I suppose I should start at the beginning.
Just a couple of years ago I found my love for Star Wars. My entire life, as far back as I can remember, my dad has tried to get me into the fandom. Now, he’s not a fan the exact same way some of us are, he’d only watched the saga and the Mandalorian, funnily enough I was the one to introduce him to The Clone Wars and beyond, but it’s been a joy in his life for a very long time. I was never interested in it when I was little, but then I got a little older and Star Wars started to capture my interest.
One random weekend, I believe in 2021 or 2022, I decided that I was going to watch all nine saga movies in those forty-eight hours, and then start on my goal to watch every show and the additional movies.
This is, without a shred of doubt, one of the greatest decisions I have ever made, and one that I will never regret. I would not be the person I am had I not given Star Wars a chance.
It would sound ridiculous to anyone anywhere else, but this has become such a safe place for me that I know I can be honest.
Everyone finds that one thing that makes them happy like nothing else. A person, a hobby, a place, a fandom. Mine is the galaxy far, far away that lets me escape from my life whenever I need to.
The Star Wars fandom has its faults, and there is so much hatred.
But more than anything, there is love like no love I have ever experienced before. The love between fans and our love for these movies and shows is something I never expected to have in my life. But somehow, for some reason, it has all found a permanent place in my heart, and I couldn’t be happier.
At this time, the first season of The Bad Batch had just been released. I was branching out, watching The Clone Wars and then jumping to The Book of Boba Fett, though I’m not sure why I chose to watch everything in such a completely random order.
But then I started The Bad Batch.
I had no idea what Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Hunter, Echo, and Omega would come to mean to me.
I have dealt with a lot in the last few years. Nothing compared to others, but depression finds a way to wedge into your life. I love to be alone, but I don’t like to be lonely, and I have managed to isolate myself to a point of misery.
I found more comfort in The Bad Batch than anything else in my life, and I will never forget the joy The Bad Batch brought me in these last few years.
I began to write when I found Star Wars, and I was inspired to do so by The Bad Batch. Before, I had never felt so compelled by any one piece of media to add my own part of it to the world, until this. Writing has become another escape, one that gives me an outlet to continue the stories of characters left behind.
What I already knew has been reaffirmed, the lessons I have learned remain with me, and will even after this is over.
That it’s okay to feel afraid, because everyone does, and to make mistakes, provided you learn from them.
That feeling out of place for one reason or another does not make you unworthy of love, and having limitations with affection isn’t something you need to apologize for.
That being goofy, having fun, finding joy in the dark places, is just as vital a part of life as anything else, if not what we need more than anything.
That taking time for yourself, to make sure you don’t fall apart, even while taking care of others, is important.
That our worst moments can be one of two things, what consumes us, or what we grow from.
That being a young woman is not a detriment to your worth, intelligence, talent, or any other aspect of life, but is in fact what makes you strongest.
That what makes us unique and our faults are a part of who we are, but they do not define us, and we are so much more than the ideas people have of us.
My only regret is not making friends when I had the chance. I’m bad at that, opening up and putting myself out there, and I shy away from talking to new people because it makes me uncomfortable. But I wish I had been able to put that aside before it was too late and found people who love The Bad Batch the way I do to continue talking to, even after the show ends.
But to all the people who have supported me and who I have supported, thank you for being part of my Bad Batch experience.
It's very difficult to believe that this is it.
Though The Bad Batch has not been around long, it feels like it has, because as long as I have been watching Star Wars, The Bad Batch has been in its active run, and I’m so grateful I got to be here when it was.
I know that even when the credits roll for the final time, when the greater fandom forgets the show that they never really understood the way we have, I’ll be here, and hopefully, so will all of you. I think that the family brought together by The Bad Batch will endure, even if we go quiet for a while.
We’ll stick around, for the day the Batch comes back. Because I know they will.
Thank you Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch fandom, Dee Bradley Baker, Michelle Ang, the Kiners, and everybody who played a part in telling this story.
The impact The Bad Batch has had on my life has been profound, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. It’s been a wild ride, and I have enjoyed every second of it. It has been a privilege to be a part of this piece in the ever growing history that makes up Star Wars.
Goodbye, Bad Batch. Until next time.
“Change takes getting used to. You’ll see. Just give it time.”
#star wars#the bad batch#tbb#star wars the bad batch#sw tbb#star wars tbb#sw the bad batch#the bad batch season 3#tbb crosshair#crosshair tbb#crosshair bad batch#tbb tech#tech tbb#tech bad batch#tbb wrecker#wrecker tbb#wrecker bad batch#tbb hunter#hunter tbb#hunter bad batch#tbb echo#echo tbb#echo bad batch#tbb omega#omega tbb#omega bad batch
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There's a lot of making up to do | Tommy Shelby
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Request: No
Warnings: Mentions of suicide, a minor side character being a drunk. Former friends to lovers. As usual italics are flashbacks.
Word Count: 2,990
Tommy Shelby Masterlist | Main Masterlist
"This girl should be out on a farm, with lots of grass and space to run," Y/N says as she runs a brush through the mare her father was keeping at his scrap metal yard. "All the noise and ruckus has her anxious and scared."
"She's here temporarily," Charlie tells her as Curly starts cleaning the mares shoes and hooves. "Tommy's still looking for a home for her."
"I see that hasn't changed," she chuckles.
“What hasn’t changed?” Y/N hears from behind her.
She pauses her grooming of the horse and turns towards the person who just spoke. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” she says with a small smirk on her face. “Good to see you again, Tom.”
“Y/N Strong,” a smile also appears on his face. He hadn’t seen his childhood friend in 7, almost 8, years. As soon as there were talks of war, Y/N had left for London to go become a nurse. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has,” she agrees, “and it’s also Y/N L/N now.”
“You’re married?” He asks unsure how he felt about it. Y/N didn’t know it but she was the one who got away. The first girl he loved, and the only person he’s loved unconditionally. He thought he had moved past all the feelings he had for her. She was out of sight out of mind except when he over heard his “Uncle” Charlie mention her when someone asked how his daughter was doing. But seeing her here in Birmingham, in Small Heath, those feelings were flooding back.
“Not anymore,” she tells him, turning back to the horse, her smile disappearing. “You know, you really ought to find her a home, out in the countryside, away from all this noise and chaos.”
“How long are you back for?” He asks ignoring what she just said about the horse.
“I have cottage on the outskirts of town,” she tells him.
“Will you be at the Garrison tonight?” He asks, sounding slightly hopeful.
“I might be,” she tells him. “Dads invited me out for a drink. He told me it’s under new ownership.” She adds smirking slightly letting him know she’s heard about him buying the pub.
“I’ll see you tonight, then,” he smiles as he starts to leave.
“I said I might be there,” she reminds him.
He turns to face her once again, walking back over to her, this time standing so close, she could smell his cologne mixed with the scent of cigarettes. “You’re never able to stay away.”
“I was the one who moved away, wasn’t I?” She challenges him but knows she’s last as she realises her words hold nothing.
“But you’ve moved back,” he points out, his smile still on his lips. “Now why is that?”
“If you think it’s because of you, think again, Thomas Shelby,” she says before tip-toeing to place a kiss on his cheek. “It was good to see you again,” she goes back to brushing the mare who has seemed to calm down a little.
-
Later that night, Y/N walks into the Garrison and is surprised to see how much it has changed. Tommy has really tidied the place up. For her it doesn’t seem as cozy as it use to be. But it’s still nice.
She quickly spots her dad and Curly sitting at a table off to the side and starts making her way towards them. But she only gets a couple of feet when she’s stopped by someone.
“We’ll look who it is, looking even more beautiful than she did when she left us.”
A large smile makes its way onto her face as she turns to greet Polly. “And look at you, as stunning as always, Aunt Polly.”
Polly pulls her in for a tight hug. Y/N’s mother walked out on her and her father not long after her 2nd birthday with no explanation for her absence and just a note saying goodbye. She was just gone. Charlie always told Y/N when she was older that her mother wasn’t ready to become one when she was born, she couldn’t bond with Y/N and aside from feeding Y/N, Charlie mostly cared for her.
Until Polly and the Shelby siblings mother stepped up. In the way that her father had become Arthur Jr, Tommy, John, Ada and Finn’s uncle, their mother and Aunt became her Aunts who were like a mother to her. Y/N couldn’t be more grateful for the two woman who helped raise her. Her heart broke almost as much as the Shelby's did when Mrs. Shelby passed.
"Tommy told me you were back," she smiles, letting her go. "How long have you been back?"
"A few days," she tells her. "I wanted to unpack and get settled in before I made my presence known again. Dad was the only one I told about me returning."
"Were you hoping to surprise us or is there a reason you didn't want to tell us?" she asks feeling a little offended that Charlie was the only one she told.
"Surprise!" Y/N cheers, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "Did you really think there was a reason I wouldn't tell you about me coming home?"
"And I haven't heard from you in a while. I wasn't sure," Polly admits, voicing her worries.
"I'm sorry I haven't written or called in a while," Y/N apologises for her lack of communication. "I had a lot going on."
"I understand," Polly smiles reassuringly. "You can tell me all about it over a cup of tea tomorrow."
"Sounds wonderful," her smile falters a little. The only people who knew about her husband was her dad and Tommy but they didn't know the full extent of what happened.
Polly hugs her once more before making her way back to the gentleman who she was occupying her time with. Y/N continues to make her way over to her father.
An hour goes by before Y/N sees Tommy walking through the door and towards the bar. She politely leaves the table and makes her way over to Tommy before he can disappear into the snug beside the bar where she knows him and his brother go for privacy.
"Tommy, can I speak with you, please?" she asks as she reaches him.
"Is everything all right?" he asks her as he gets the bottle of whiskey that he ordered.
"Is there anything I can get you, Y/N?" Harry asks before she can answer Tommy.
"No thank you, Harry, I'm good for now," she smiles politely at the bartender and former owner and turns back to Tommy. "Everything is fine. I have a suggestion for that horse of yours."
"I'm looking for a more suitable space for her," he tells her, trying to assure her the horse will be okay.
"What's her name?" she asks.
"Rosebud," he tells her.
A look of shock makes its way onto her face when she hears the name of the horse.
“Rosebud?” she asks, wanting to make sure that’s what she heard him say.
“She looks like her, doesn’t she?” He replies.
Y/N’s taken back to when they were about 13-years-old. She’d drawn a horse that looked very similar to the horse Tommy now owns, claiming that she’ll one day own a horse that looked just like that. Tommy laughed at her thinking she’d never find a horse that looked exactly like her drawing.
As soon as he saw his horse grazing in a paddock on one of his drives out of Birmingham, he thought he was hallucinating. The mare was a remarkable resemblance to the one Y/N had drawn when they were younger. Once he realised he wasn’t hallucinating, he hatched a plan to convince the owner to sell her to him. It didn’t take much convincing for the owner to hand her over to him.
“She does,” she agrees now that she’s reminded of the drawing she drew. Letting out a laugh of disbelief, she shakes her head. “How did you even remember that silly drawing?”
“I remember a lot of things,” he tells her simply as those brilliant icy blue eyes of his bore into her. “And it wasn’t a silly drawing. You were so sure that horse you drew existed somewhere out there.”
“She was always in my dreams,” she smiles. “That’s how I knew she was real,” she continues before laughing and gently hitting his shoulder before grasping it. “And now the boy who didn’t believe me has her. What a coincidence,” she chuckles and let’s go of him. “This is wonderful.”
“What did you need to talk about?” Tommy asks, an amused look on his face.
“Oh right,” her amusement falters slightly as she remembers that she needed to speak with him. “It’s actually about the horse… Rosebud. I may have somewhere you can keep her. It’s away from all the noise and smoke. She’ll have plenty of room to run and graze. There’s also a small barn that could be turned into a shelter for her.”
“Where is it?” He asks.
“Not far out of town. I can meet you there tomorrow, show you it. The owners already given permission for you to use it,” she tells him, adding the last part to reassure him everything has already been set up.
“How does 9AM sound?” He asks. “Not too early for you?”
“Not at all,” she agrees to the time and tells him the address. “I have to get back to my dad. I’ll see you at 9.”
Tommy nods and watches her go back over to Charlie and Curly.
-
Y/N checks the clock in the entry way seeing that it is 8:57AM. Tommy would be arriving any minute and the sun had yet to shine through the cloudy skies. The smell and the feeling in the air let her know it was going to rain soon and she wanted to show Tommy where Rosebuds potential new home could be. After a minute passes she decides to stand outside and wait for her childhood friend.
As she waits for Tommy her mind goes back to the last time she was with him.
It was the night before she was meant to leave for London. She’d said goodbye to everyone except Tommy who had suddenly disappeared.
After scouring all the places he could be, she found him sitting on her bed after she returned home feeling defeated that she couldn't find him. Seeing him sitting there she feels relieved but also angry as she glares at him.
"Where the hell have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you?" she scolds him, letting her anger win.
"You have no right being angry with me," he glares back at her as he stands up. "You're the one who's leaving, after all."
"You're the one who encouraged me to go," she shouts back at him. Confusion adding to her frustration. "What was it that you said? You'll be the best nurse this country ever has? You were made to be a nurse, because you're always looking after others? London will be lucky to have you?"
"Well I've changed my mind," the 21-year old Tommy, backtracks on his words. "Maybe London won't be lucky to have you and you'll make a terrible nurse."
"Get out," she yells at him, throwing her hand towards her bedroom door and pointing to it.
"No," he says stubbornly standing his ground.
"Leave, before I decide I never want to see your face again."
Tommy sits back on her bed, further proving that he wasn't going anywhere.
"What is it that you want, Thomas?" she asks, giving into the young man's stubbornness after a few moments go by.
"I want you," he declares. "Because I am in love with you."
Y/N is stunned. Her heart is beating out of her chest and there is a lump in her throat preventing her from saying anything.
"I've been in love with you for so long," he continues.
"Why now, Tommy?" she says exasperated, feeling tears build up in her eyes. She can't remember the moment she fell in love with her best friend but she knows it was a long time ago.
"Because I don't want you to go," he stands up and moves in front of her.
She refuses to look at him, knowing as soon as she meets those beautiful blue eyes of his she'll give into him. "I have to," she sighs resting her head on his chest. "I start nursing school in two days. I can't back out now. It's too late."
"I know," he says as his arms wrap tightly around her. "Tell me you love me too and give me tonight. Then we can go from there."
Lifting her head from his chest, she pulls him in for a kiss.
That night she had gotten little sleep wanting to spend every minute she could with him. Tommy stayed with her until she got in her car to drive to London.
Once she settled in London, Tommy went to see her on the weekends he wasn't busy with the illegal betting den his father started. They wrote letters every week, reminding each other how much they loved them and missed them. There was a few weekends that Tommy was with her when he talked about moving to London to be with her. He even got as far as packing his trunks with all his belongings but then his dad had disappeared on one of his benders, leaving him and Arthur Jr to pick up the pieces. They were both frustrated and disappointed but aside from that things were going well between them.
Until the war happened a year later.
They had both been shipped off to France, Tommy to fight and Y/N to tend to the wounded. Letters became less frequent as the war went on. The letters eventually stopped under the war ended and Y/N sent a letter to Polly to make sure everyone made it out. Tommy was the one to reply to her, telling her he loved her but nothing was the same anymore. That was the last letter she received from him despite her having written to him multiple times.
Y/N's pulled from her thoughts when Tommy's car pulls up outside the front gate. She waves to him as he gets out and closes the door behind him. Opening the little gate, he walks closer to her.
"Did you say to meet here so I can pick you up?" he asks her, dressed in nice suit, his peaky cap on his head and a cigarette hanging from his lips as he buttons up the jacket.
"No, this is the place I told you about," she informs him and takes his hand.
He allows her to lead her through her small cottage and into the backyard. At the edge of the backyard was another little gate that lead to a paddock and a small barn structure that could indeed be converted into shelter for Rosebud.
They reach the small barn just as it starts pouring with rain. The heavy rain showed that the barn had a few leaks that could easily be fixed.
"So, what do you think?" Y/N asks, letting go of his hand and moving to face him.
"You were right about it being enough room for her and being away from the noise and smoke," he says pleased with the space. "How much do you want for me keeping her here?"
"I don't want any money, Tom," she replies. "You pay for her feed and upkeep and she can stay here free."
"What about the barn?" he asks.
"You can pay for the conversion, if you must."
"Anything else?"
"You can let me ride her and let me groom her but you must clean out her stall. She is your horse after all."
"Fair enough," he agrees and looks at her. She looks back at him before looking away and like she there was more that she wanted to say. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."
Y/N looks at one of the leaks as though she's inspecting it but the leak is the last thing on her mind as she ponders whether it would be a good idea to bring up the past or not.
"Why did you never write back?" she asks, unable to stop herself from asking.
"The man who came back from France wasn't the same one you fell in love with and he wasn't the man you deserved," he answers, his eyes never leaving her. "From when we were kids, I was always told that you were too good for me."
"And it took a war for you to listen to those people?" she asks now looking at him. "When have you ever listened to other people's opinions?"
"It's not just their opinions, Y/N," he goes on to explain. "It's what I've done, who I have become. I'm a bad man who's done bad things."
"We've all done bad things, Tom," she tells him.
"I never stopped loving you," he tells her. "Seeing you yesterday reminded me that I still do."
"It's too late," she tells him, thinking about all the time she could have had with Tommy but because of his decision she spent it with a man who was drunk more than sober and eventually took his own life. Was she in love with this man? No, because she never stopped loving the man standing in front of her right now.
"No it's not," he says moving closer to her. She makes no move to stop him as he takes her face in his hands and tilts it up, making her look at him. "Tell me you still love me too."
"I never stopped loving you too," she admits out loud. "There's a lot of making up to do."
"Then let's start right now," he says and pulls her in for a kiss.
#acewritesfics repost#peaky blinders#tommy shelby x reader#peaky blinders x reader#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby#tommy shelby
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Ae Fond Kiss - Part 4
A Prayer in the Prospect of Death
Summary: The years pass and you find out how Simon feels about you before a familiar face arrives.
Words: 2.8k
Parts: 1 2 3 4
“Tell me luv.”
Simon had his fingers tucked under your chin to tilt your head up so you could no longer easily hide. Urgh he was so bloody perceptive.
“It’s silly.”
“You’re always silly, now tell me.”
You fought the urge to blow a raspberry at him. He was truly the most stubbornly protective human you had ever met and he never just let things go if you said it was fine. He always knew when something was bothering you despite your attempts to hide it.
“What am I supposed to do when Joey starts nursery?”
You sighed and dropped any attempt to hide how miserable the thought made you. When you and Johnny had gotten married you had decided that you’d be a stay at home mum. You didn’t have a career you were attached to and Johnny made enough to support the household. Honestly you had come to enjoy it in the last year. You decorated your home for every holiday, experimented in the kitchen until you were actually a very good home cook and baker, always felt safe and content with how well you knew your own space and how cosy and clean you kept it.
It was never how you imagined yourself if you were honest, a homemaker. The idea of you actually sort of enjoying cleaning would have made you feel somewhat ill 5 years ago. But now you were in your own home with a toddler you loved to death and, though you often were reluctant to admit it out loud, a man you loved to death. You had been front and centre for all of Joey’s firsts and you wouldn’t trade that for anything.
Simon missed his first steps. Johnny had been fine doing video calls while he was on base during off hours, but you didn’t even have the number of Simon’s work phone. It used to frustrate you that it felt like he didn’t even exist the moment he left for work, but he had spoken about his family on your first Christmas together and it made you understand. He would never carry anything on him as the Ghost that could link back to you, even in the relative safety of the base during downtime.
Now Joey would be out of the house for most of the day. You could have waited, not sent him to nursery and just kept him home until school, but you knew it would be for your sake rather than his. He loved being around other kids and some of the friends he had made from you taking him to every toddler group in the area in an attempt to be a good mother would be starting nursery as well.
Could you just do nothing all day? Between Johnny’s insurance and death in service benefits and Simon insisting on funnelling money in, you could certainly afford it now, but it felt so wrong when Johnny was dead and Simon was doing the exact job that had killed him.
“What do you mean? You do the same as you do right now if you’re still happy doing it but without him.”
“Lounge around and do nothing while you are out risking your life you mean.”
Simon considered, always careful to think the situation through rather than reply impulsively. He was annoyed with himself for not seeing sooner that you were undervaluing yourself, only considering taking care of Joey which was a full time job in itself as contributing. While it had been a source of bitter guilt in the beginning, he had started to forget how much younger you were than him. He really should have seen it, no woman in her early 20s saw her full worth.
“Princess, you decorated this whole house while I was deployed and you’re the one that fixes things or organises for them to be fixed when they break. You cook almost all our meals from scratch and then make extra to donate to the community kitchen. The garden is immaculate because you follow the planting plan you made yourself and are out there doing maintenance every day. You do not now nor have you ever lounged about doing nothing, even if I would like it if you did.”
He already felt bad enough about it. When he was home he threw himself in, tried to take as much off of you as possible even when he was nowhere near as fast or good at things. If anything he was contributing nowhere near enough money to cover all the full time jobs you were gracefully juggling (only because it had already been a fight to accept any money at all, he gave you what you accepted and then put almost the rest of his pay into an account for Joey).
“Shut up!” you whined, battering fists against his chest as your face flamed.
You had lived together now for just around 3 years. You had been intimately involved for 2. It still absolutely floored you when he was nice to you and made butterflies erupt in your stomach. It was so ridiculous to feel like some wide eyed teen with a crush when it came to this idiot. Unfortunately his favourite hobby was fucking with you when you were taken off guard like this.
“Aww baby girl, you know how much I appreciate everything you do for me and Joe don’t you? We’d fall apart without you beautiful” he said in a smooth rumble, peppering kisses across your cheeks and down your neck.
It wasn’t fair that he could just tease you with a version of him that adored you. A version that you enjoyed even if you didn’t really think it was real. Sure there had been a maybe ‘I love you’ years ago after all that sexual tension broke and he seemed to be happy enough, but you could only imagine that if he ever knew how you felt about him he would run. The last 3 years you had fought at every turn to protect your heart, but you had stopped denying at least to yourself that it was pathetically his now.
“Don’t do that.”
“You don’t want praise and kisses?”
He raised an eyebrow and tried to hide a small smile. You loved praised and kisses, he knew that because in the bedroom he could use that to turn you into a pile of obedient princess who did whatever he said if it would earn you his adulation. But it was just sex wasn’t it?
“I don’t want you to pretend.”
He was confused by that and you wanted to sink into the floor to avoid this conversation. You had been avoiding it for a while now.
“I… fuck. Simon, I don’t- it’s not just sex to me” you choked out, not sure how to put it into words without straight out admitting that you were hopelessly in love with him and wanted him in you and J’s lives permanently.
“Christ, you pretty little idiot” he growled, grabbing your face roughly in his hands. “I love you. I am in love with you. I’m not Johnny, I don’t do big romantic gestures. I’m not the kind of man to tell you all the time how I feel. I’m the kind of man who is a selfish bastard because I don’t give a fuck if you deserve someone who does. You are mine. You have been for years. Do you understand me?”
You could only blink wide-eyed as your brain tried to catch up with the whole world restarting itself after the shock.
“Do you understand me?” he snapped.
“Yes sir.”
“Good girl… wanna get married?”
You stuttered out an outraged shout, feeling the tears that had been building drying up at the audacity of this man.
“Johnny took me to the cabin. He made me a replica of the first dinner we had together and set the table outside during the sunset. He organised for fireworks!”
“Told you I don’t do romantic gestures.”
“Fine!”
“Fine?”
“Fine, let’s get married Casper. You’re the fucking worst.”
“Don’t I know it princess. I’m not wearing a tie.”
“Then I’m not wearing a dress.”
“Yes you bloody well are!”
“Wanna bet?!”
-
He did not wear a tie, but Joey did. Your dress was beautiful. Gaz officiated your wedding for the second time. Price said there was an emergency so he couldn’t make it - you weren’t really sure you believed him.
-
As you cleared up after the whirlwind that was breakfast in a house with a 9 year old late for school, you sighed and stuck on a heat patch. You were starting to wonder if being off birth control was maybe a little pointless because in the past 18 months it had only reminded you how much you hated periods after years of them being gone as a useful side effect.
It had been something you were speaking about since you got married. You had always wanted more kids. Simon had never even expected he’d have one. You were terrified of a repeat of your first pregnancy, he was terrified that his genes were poisonous. You had enough money with his hefty pay and your small business (you had started it up soon after Joey had started nursery and you got a lot of orders for events, birthdays and weddings for sets of biscuits. You imagined wherever Johnny was he was howling with laughter that you had turned into a home baker after all the kitchen disasters he had seen).
In the end it had been Joseph who made the decision. One shrugged mention of how he thought it’d be nice to have a little sibling and that was that. There was not one thing in the whole wide world you and Simon would not give him if it was in your power. Although you were starting to think it wasn’t in your power at all.
It wasn’t like you didn’t have an active sex life and in honesty it had only gotten more active from the breeding kink Simon had uncovered as soon as it was a possibility. But it just hadn’t happened.
You wondered if it was better that it hadn’t, at least until Joey was 10. That was when you had agreed you would tell him everything. On advice of a psychologist you had told him that Simon wasn’t his biological father very early on, as early as he could understand the concept, although stressed he was still his dad. The only thing you mentioned about his biological father was that he had died even though that was very much against the psychologists advice, she had said to tell him everything about Johnny.
But in 4 months he would turn 10 and he knew that you would answer his questions then. It was shitty of the two of you really, to hide Johnny until now. Joey’s grandmother still saw him, but she never talked about her son or who he was. It was cowardice. Simon had been speaking with a therapist for years about how to let go of the idea that Johnny died because he couldn’t save him. You felt ill at the idea of your son knowing you had married his dead father’s best friend. Both of you were so scared of Johnny’s ghost that you kept him from his son for nearly a decade.
Well sort of. Joey knew who Johnny was, just not that he was his father. There were photos of him in the house. Whenever Gaz, Price and their partner (that had been a whole drama, but you were happy the three of them finally worked it out) were around, sometimes they would reminisce about him. Well Gaz and Simon did, Price would just look pained and excuse himself to get a drink.
You could only hope that Joey wouldn’t hate you, but then he was such a great kid. A little wild, but incredibly kind and empathetic beyond his years. He had Johnny’s eyes. You thought that he’d understand when you explained it all. Maybe he’d yell at you for thinking he would blame you for falling in love with his dad, but he’d understand.
You focused on cleaning up and getting the kitchen back clean and cosy how you liked it, deciding not to borrow worries from the future.
–
Price had told him to settle his arse down in the base and let him travel down and talk to him before he went anywhere. Johnny ignored him. He had just saved the fucking world, there was not one thing that was going to keep him from his wife and child one second longer.
He had debriefed already, been medically cleared to leave. He knew the paperwork was going to be horrendous given that he was legally dead, but frankly he’d leave it for the intelligence agencies to deal with given how much of a big bloody favour he had just done them. He got your address off of them given that Price hadn’t given it to him, just telling him to wait until he got there. Fuck that.
It didn’t take too long to get himself there. It was oddly comforting hearing all the English accents after a decade of hearing almost entirely Russian even if he’d be moving your pretty arse back North of the border as soon as he could. Not a chance was his family living in Carlisle. He wondered why you would move that far from the Highlands where his family was. You had always been no contact with your own family, maybe you had reconciled with them and moved to be closer?
He would find out. Whatever it was he’d support you. God he loved you, he had missed you so fucking much. He had imagined the reunion for years, thought of your smile and your laugh when he needed to remind himself what he was fighting for, thought of your soft skin and tight pussy when he needed to relieve some tension with his right hand. Whenever he sent up a prayer in the prospect of death, it was for you that he prayed he would survive.
He thought of how he’d hold you for days when he got back. He knew you would have raised a wonderful son and he could not wait to meet the person he had become. He’d hold him as well, spend days cuddled up and watching movies with his family.
And then he’d take you to the cabin and lose himself in your body. Fuck it was strange to think he’d have to consider it wasn’t just you two anymore. He didn’t want to lose any time with his son, but he needed alone time with you as well. He’d work it out.
The house was nice, sort of quaint with the pretty flowers both real and painted on the door. It hurt knowing if he hadn’t been away you’d have something bigger. You would have had to for a growing family.
He wished he had stopped and gotten a change of clothes and a haircut. He was in military issued sweats and a hoodie and his hair had grown out to curl around his ears. He really should have shaved as well, a task he hadn’t had time for in the chaos of the last few months. But fuck it, he was here and he couldn’t wait.
It was almost like an out of body experience knocking on the door, knowing he was seconds away from you. He should have realised that there was another person around who could answer the door, but he hadn’t been thinking. The Joseph he knew was a tiny baby, not a bright eyed kid with a toothy grin in a football strip (a bloody Man U strip at that, Johnny just knew his uncle Simon would have had a hand in that and it made him grin knowing his best friend was still in his son’s life).
“Ye got big!” he belted, excited beyond proper introductions at seeing his son.
The kid furrowed his brows for a moment before he brightened with recognition. Johnny assumed now was about the time for crying and yelling and hugging. He was unprepared for the alternative.
“I know you! You’re dad’s Sergeant! I thought you died.”
His heart lurched, putting the dots together well before his brain could.
“Joe hurry it up! We’ll miss kick-off!”
Johnny knew that voice. It was not yours.
“I’m ready!”
“You better be! Right, who’s at the door then?”
The voice got closer and even though he wanted to run Johnny was rooted to the spot. It felt like the next 10 seconds as the footsteps and voice came closer was hours. The door swung wider open as a hand pulled on it from behind and then he was looking into the eyes of Simon Riley. The silence was deafening until Johnny broke it.
“What the fuck did you do Si!”
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I just realized. I don't think I've seen anything about April in OaaHF. Where is she? What does she do in the resistence? How aware is she of Leon's situation?
Set while Leon is recovering from his first facial scar:
“No, no way!”
Leon groaned as the yell woke him, sound getting choked out by the bandages wrapped tight around his neck. Constricting his airway making it so he could never get a full breath, was always light headed. Although that could be the bloodloss.
“We need his portals, its not a-”
“I don’t care if it’s a transport mission, I don’t care if he’s at the very back line, you are not getting him out of that bed,”
Leon scrunched up his face so he wouldn’t have to deal with the light of day. Or the light of med bay. He wanted to go back to sleep and it wasn’t even the yelling that was stopping him. Pain flared along his face and shoulder in tandem with his heartbeat. Bandages pulled meticulously tight making every throb worse.
“It’s not an active mission, I’ve mapped out the points all Kraang will be avoided-”
“Then you do it!”
That voice, Leon knew it even past the haze pain. Probably helped that there were no painkillers available to keep him floaty. He sighed his big sisters voice was always soothing, well when she wasn’t yelling at him. Although he supposed she technically was.
“Ape’s I’m needed here,” Leo reasoned, his voice was deep and raspy. Huh Leon wondered if his voice sounded closer to it now, “I can’t up and leave the resistance without aleader for a minor mission,”
“So you admit it’s a minor mission!” April accused, Leon tried to open his eyes. The best he could make out was a couple of blurry figures until the light forced him to shut them.
“Minor but needed, lives are at stake here April,”
“His life is at stake!” Leon opened his mouth, but his throat was raw and the skin of his cheek pulled weirdly threatening to make him throw up if he tried. He tried anyway, why should be matter? “If he moves that wound, the wound you gave him is going to tear right open, he won’t survive that a second time,”
“April it was an accident, my hand slipped,”
His future self was right of course. After all he had been the one to sacrifice his scarf to keep as much blood inside Leon’s body as possible. He had literally held Leon’s life in his hands. You didn’t do that for a person you were actually trying to kill… no matter how much it looked lik you wanted to seconds before.
That was fine. It was an accident. Leon shouldn’t have baited him.
“Bullshit, also I don’t give a crap, he’s not ready for field work!”
“The doctor cleared him,”
“Which you know they shouldn’t have!” April screeched, ugh Leon wished she wouldn’t, “Come on Leo you're a medic, just look at him!”
There was silence. Leon held still pretending to be asleep. Which was easy as he was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. Only the jabs of pain and his sister keeping him present.
“It’s between him and them,”
“Him, everytime, my little brother should come first everytime,” Leon’s heart didn’t know if it should skip a beat or clench. It was the answer he wanted to hear- but one he was completely undeserving of.
“I can’t play favorites,”
“Plaaeesseee,” The pure amount of sarcasm poured into the tone would have shot three men dead, “Is that why Mikey’s locked up in the underground bunker within an underground bunker, deep fried and finished with magic?”
“April-”
“Or how about Donnie’s lab, which is enforced with thirty percent of our titanium stores?” Leo would have rolled his eyes if they wouldn't just keep rolling back into his head. Obviously it wasn’t a matter of favoritism, his brothers were simply more important than him, “And how me and Cassie keep getting shortlisted missions? Junior hasn’t left your side in months and you haven't left this safehold in a year? Yet guess who’s going on missions every other week?”
“It’s all a matter of circumstance,” Leo’s voice took on a cold and harsh tone, “I’m trying to keep everyone alive for the sak-”
“Everyone but Leon,”
She called him Leon… when had he become Leon? When has he started solely thinking of himself as Leon? Why was his futureself exclusively Leo? The thoughts were to hard to capture, slipping through his hands like sand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to dwell on them anyway.
“Well sucks for you but I care about keeping him alive, even if you don’t,”
That wasn’t fair, he cared about Leon he did, as much as he could. Leon didn’t make it easy, after… after everything he caused. He couldn’t blame his future self for being a bit weird. He cared where it counted. Leon would’ve been dead three times over now if he didn’t.
“This mission is needed-”
“I’ll go then,”
No, April
“April, No,”
“If it’s so important you need to drag him out of bed and risk reopening the slice you put in his neck then it’s important enough for I, commander O’Neil to take over,”
“You’re not who you are in the future, you’re not Commander O’Neil,”
“And I never will be if you keep coddling,” April spat, “Besides I don’t care about being a commander right now, I care about being a sister, so it’s either I take the mission or you cancel it,”
The silence stretched on. Leon grasped onto his threads of consciousness. Purposely twitching his shoulder to get the fiery pain to keep him awake. It was amazing how something could fill him with so much dread yet he still selfishly felt hope that they would go through with it. Because he was selfish, rather stay hidden away in bed in a back room of the stronghold while his big sister fronted all the danger.
“Fine,” Relief and dread, unfortunately not in equal measure, “You come back alive understand?”
“Oh darn, there go my plans,” April tossed back, a shade closer to her usual teasing tone but still tense.
Leo didn’t answer. Because he was Leo, even in Leon’s own mind. But the older turtle huffed. Leon listened to his footsteps fade as Aprils got closer. The dip in his bed bit him to open his eyes.
“Heya blue, you awake?” April’s hand gently brushed his forehead, Leon cringed as he opened his eyes, “How’re you doing?”
He couldn’t answer, not really. So he leaned into her palm. Flinching as the small movement pulled on his wound from neck to cheek. He hissed through the pain. Tight bandages around his throat feeling suffocating as he would have struggled to breath even without them.
“Sorry, sorry, just wanted to check in,” The details of Aprils face were hard to make out pain blurring them out, “I’m going away for a mission,”
“Do… t,” Leon tried to sound out, it didn’t come anywhere close, but hey look at that: His voice was raspy.
“Don’t worry about me, it’s my job to worry about you,” She pat his cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles under his eye, “Seriously, please, it’s ok to care about yourself, you should, once in a whil- actually all the time,”
Leon shook his head imperceptibly. She was wrong. He had done that, over and over again. Each time they lost so much. He couldn’t, not anymore. Why couldn’t she understand that?
Leo understood that. He knew what it was like to sit with that guilt, that self hate. He knew how to work for others to ease that feeling even a little bit. As losses stacked everyday and crushed him under their weight.
“I bet your thinking something stupid right now,” April pinched his opposite cheek, the unscarred one that showed off his brilliant red stripe, “I wish you were better so I could beat my love into your skull, but we’ll have to save that for when I get back,”
Leon plucked up the strength to use his right arm. Greaspoing Aprils loosely. He needed to get his point across, even without words, he had to.
“I will be alright, you rest up,” April moved from his grasp to instead thread their fingers together, “I’m your big sister, I’m always going to look out for you, even if I have to do that by not being here,”
No, no that wasn’t what he meant. Leo jerked to grab her again. White hot flares shot through his shoulder. Fuck, wrong arm. Darkness clawed at the edge of his vision, plusing in time with the pain searing through him.
“You’re so………. Don’t let anyone convince you…..” April's voice faded in and out, “ We have always…….. None of this………… alright Leon?”
Leon, that was the last word he caught before his world faded to black. The last thing he heard his sister say.
When he woke up.
She was gone.
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Some facts and stories about Roland Ratzenberger
• When he was seven years old his grandmother took him to a local hill climb race at Gaisberg.
• His first word was 'car'
• He was nine years old when year the family home the Salzburg ring opened. He was get through the gates to go watch the cars drive.
• He had a poster of Jochen Rindt on his wall as a kid.
• When he started karting at sixteen years old he had to get a secondary job at a bakery to fund it.
• In the winter of 1991 he married the former partner of another driver, becoming the stepfather of her son, however they were divorced in early 1992.
• While in the UK, he briefly gained some fame for having a similar name to the TV puppet 'Roland Rat'. ITV invited film to film a segment with the puppet for national breakfast television. He raced against the rat (who was in a car dubbed 'Ratmobile') the Rat Puppet ended up winning the race down to cheating.
• F1 author David Tremayne son's who was three years old insisted on calling Roland Ratzenburg-and-chips-and-beans to his face. Roland found it hilarious and became that young boy's hero.
• Described as 'gentle, always unfailingly polite, tall, good-looking, and with a ready smile'
• Journalist Adam Cooper went out drinking with Roland in Japan and at the end of the night they had decided he should come stay in Japan for a year or two to cover the local racing scene. When he turned up and realised the hotel was more expensive than he had planned Roland let him stay in the spare twin bed he had in his room. He was happy to have company.
• One of his unusual goals was to try to enjoy female company in the team motorhome between stints in 24 hour races. Adam Cooper reccounts ' I think the last time we discussed it he’d managed the feat twice at Le Mans, and once at the Nurburgring.'
• One time he used his deep Austrain accent to record a Terminator style 'I'll be back' answer machine message for rival Jeff Krosnoff
• He kept a black book full of 'ladies' numbers
• One time his friend Anthony Reid had an accident in a F3000 race, and had a lot of blood streaming down his face. Roland had to take charge of the scene as the marshals freaked out. He made sure his journalist friend wrote about the shortcomings of safety in a Japanese magazine afterwards.
• At a Formula Ford festival his team either ran out of funds or walked out and Roland was left with just his car and a toolbox. Because he was so well liked mechanics and personnel from other teams helped him prepare his car. He won that festival.
• On one occasion, Heinz-Harald Frentzen and Ratzenberger entered a nightclub. There was a confrontation between Frentzen and another guy which saw a knife pulled on either Frentzen or a random female bystander. Either way, Ratzenberger selflessly stepped in and wrestled the knife away from the man.
• A documentary has been put out on YouTube about Roland by Levay film production, detailing all about his life. A recommended watch.
• Bernie Ecclestone personally delivered the confirmation of Ratzenburg's death to the Simtek team
• Ayton Senna commandeered an offical car to hurry to the medical center where he learnt of Roland's fate from his friend, Dr Sid Watkins
• Only five drivers attended his funeral
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Concessions
Chapter 3
Pairing: Obi Wan/FemReader
Tags: SMUT (MDNI), oral sex (male receiving), orgasm denial, dubcon, noncon, Obi Wan gets chained to the wall and edged within an inch of his life
Description: Obi Wan chooses to undertake a trial that prevents him from sex for one year, and asks you to serve as his witness. As his close friend, you don't mind helping him.
☆☆☆
You should end this.
For the sake of your friendship. For the promise you'd made to help him finish the Nikkama. For your own sanity. You should really end the call. But it seems too cruel, now, after what you've done.
When you'd sent the pictures, the most you'd expected out of him had been irritation. Your goal had been to disrupt his thoughts; possibly to ruin his day with distraction, the way he'd ruined yours. Revenge may not be the Jedi way, but sometimes with Obi Wan it's so difficult not to give in to the urge to tease; to toy with him. Now, the only question left is how far you're willing to go to atone.
The right thing to do would be to shut off your commlink. To look into his glassy eyes, ignore his indecent, combative gaze, and click that impossibly merciful button. But no matter how long your finger rests at it, you can't bring yourself to press down.
Obi Wan hasn't said another word. He's hardly moved. But what little patience may have remained in his expression when he'd answered is now gone. The deep blue of his irises is hidden within the gradient of the hologram, but the black of his stretched pupils is easy to pick up when he widens his eyes accusingly. As if to say, "Well?"
He's waiting, against his will, to be put out of his misery. Cut him loose; end the call, or...
"Give me a moment."
You shut off your commlink before he can respond, then dress yourself, tying your robes with clumsy, hurried fingers, and slip quietly out into the hallway.
Trying to remain true to your promise of only a moment while keeping your footsteps soft enough not to wake any of the other Jedi in their quarters, you reach Obi Wan's door, rapping twice before he opens it. You find him in a state of half-undress, trousers fastened at his waist, but mid-section still bare. He's pulled his arms through his light undershirt, still working on wrapping it around his torso and tucking it as he steps back from the door to let you in.
"You're dressed," you say, struggling to keep your voice steady as you walk forward, closing the distance between you. "I said I would only be a moment."
He finishes tucking his shirt, the open neckline still giving ample view of the soft curls that are begging you to run your hands over his chest. "Yes, but a moment for what, you didn't quite say."
You look down his body, backing him toward the corner of a wooden dresser near the doorway. You line your hips up with his, watching as he mirrors you, either consciously or subconsciously. "You're awfully clever, Obi Wan. Let's not pretend it wasn't obvious."
His bright pink lips hang slightly open when he stares down at your hands, traveling upward. The blush begins to creep into his face. "I... couldn't possibly be so presumptuous."
Your hands find his stomach, your noses now inches apart, and the soft smirk on your face evaporates when you draw your gaze back up to his. Using your thumb to peel open his shirt, you loosen it from his waistband and slide your other hand across the warmth of his skin, feeling him shudder at the contact.
Your lips naturally gravitate towards his, when suddenly a thought stops you painfully short: This isn't a passion-soaked tryst between two lovers. This isn't the closing of a romance that's long been harbored beneath the working partnership of two friends. This is you, helping him find relief, and nothing more.
You drag your eyes away from his mouth, down to his neck, and the urge gushes to taste the skin there, too. Instead, you pull back while turning your hand down into his waistband. His eyes, which had been fixed on your face, roll to the ceiling.
"You shouldn't-" He shifts, rubbing up against the dresser. "This is hardly-" he tries, not finishing either thought.
One of his hands comes up to the small of your back, touching you with a respectful lack of weight or pressure, somewhere between holding you closer and warning you off. When you slither your palm between his legs and stroke it over the hot, dribbling length of him, though, he changes his grip. He grabs your waist and squeezes, looking down between your bodies, watching you touch him.
You hadn't realized until now just how much you'd wanted his hands on you. Feeling him grip you hard, pulling you closer as his hips start to shallowly draw up with each pull of your hand - you're starting to ache. Bending the fingers of your other hand around the fabric, you start to pull down his trousers.
His hand flies to your wrist, and you freeze. His eyes are closed, his breaths shallow. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly.
"No," he pants. "No, we- we can't."
He opens his eyes and you nearly pull away before you catch the way he's looking at you. It's clear he's being serious. But there's also... something else. A certain kind of frustration; almost desperation.
You flatten your hand, grazing it over him, watching his eyes go foggy and his brows knead tight. He doesn't let go of your wrist, but he doesn't pull away.
Suddenly, it all makes sense - why he chose you to help him in this; to be his witness.
He trusts you. And more importantly, he knows you. He knows that when he needs it, you'll find a way to bend the rules, while allowing him to keep his lofty ideals intact. Because you've done it in the past, time and time again.
Though he'd never admit it, your willingness to compromise has often been an asset to him. You could skirt the rules, blurring the edges of the safe, moral choices, while he got to feign uninvolvement. Whether intentional or not, he'd chosen you because some part of him knew this.
And lucky for him, you know a path you can take, just as you always do.
"Obi Wan, let me ask you something," you say, enjoying the unsteady breath he takes when you slide your thumb slowly up and down his shaft. "Do you trust me?"
You graze his head, then slip your hand away, and he drops your wrist, immediately gripping the edge of the dresser behind him. He gathers himself, and eventually, he nods. "Yes. Of course."
You straighten up, fixing his clothing back in place. "I hope you're not about to change your mind. Because I have an idea."
--
A few minutes later, after you've convinced him into one of the small cargo ships the jedi temple keeps on hand for communal use, Obi Wan is no further enlightened on the details, and he's starting to lose patience.
"And why can you not just tell me the location?"
You force an easy smile, though your stomach is buzzing with anticipation. You need him to have faith that you know what you're doing. And you do. You convince yourself that you do. "I already gave you the coordinates."
You'd sent them directly from your commlink to the navicomputer, yet Obi Wan had insisted on flying manually. He glances down at the screen in front of him, with glowing numbers and no map. "Yes, somewhere in the Federal District. Very helpful. Is there a reason you haven't chosen to be more specific?"
With a smirk, you answer, "As I said before, you're clever enough to know the answer to that."
He glances out the window, clearly suppressing a scowl, then brings his attention back to the lane in front of him, shifting a hand to adjust his speed. "In other words, I won't like it."
You press your lips together, watching the shadows roll over him as you speed through the flashing lights of Coruscant nightlife.
"I never said that." You pause. "But you certainly wouldn't approve of it."
He shoots you another look, then brings his gaze forward again as you reach your destination. He can't take his eyes away from the monitor since he's in the middle of landing, but his scowl grows more pronounced. The Center for Republic Military Operations looms in front of you.
"What in blazes are we doing here?"
"I thought you were trusting me."
He follows you down the ramp, keeping his voice low. "Yes, but the extent of my trust is rather proportional to the circumstance." He nods at a passing Coruscant Guard solider, then catches up to you. "And at the moment, they're about even."
You just smile. "Good. I can work with that."
You turn to enter the main building, Obi Wan trailing close behind. More soliders pass you on either side of the hallway as you make your way to security check-in. You walk past the manned stations and head straight to the automated keycard wall. You find the number you're looking for and enter your security code.
"You've dragged me here to work an extra shift in the detention cells?"
At that, you can't help but smile wider. You pick up the key card when it appears in the slot, then brush past him to head down the hallway. "In a manner of speaking."
You get the attention of one of the guardsmen as you near the end of the cell block. "Officer, we're conducting an investigation and we need to inspect cell 98. Please tell the other guards we are not to be disturbed."
The guard accepts your orders, assuring you they'll be passed along, and continues on his way. You swipe the keycard and, hesitatingly, Obi Wan follows you inside. You look both ways down the hall before closing the door, double-checking the lock.
"Well, if you were looking for privacy, you've certainly found it, but that wasn't-"
"I wasn't looking for privacy," you interrupt, stepping toward him and reaching out. He looks around warily, but allows you closer. You take his wrists in your hands, walking him back. "I thought about what you said."
He raises his brows, saying nothing as you clasp around him gently at first, then start to firm your grip. "I do want to help you through this."
His eyes widen and he glances behind you to the empty walls of the cell. "You don't need to-"
"Oh, I know that," you tell him sweetly, then press his arms upward.
He pushes back, shaking his head as his back hits the wall. He hisses your name in admonishment. "The cams."
"Are broken," you assure him, lifting his arms above his head as his resistance lessens. "And the cells are soundproof, as you know."
"How do you-"
You activate the switch on the wall beside his hands. "I was down here last week with Master Sinube. We had to move some prisoners and we couldn't use this cell for that reason." The binders glow softly above Obi Wan's head. "Cams won't be fixed until next week."
He follows your gaze upward and a beat of silence passes. You wait for him to protest. You wait for him to rip his arms down and push you off. But all he does is drop his gaze and let out a low breath of air. The sound he makes, sighing softly through his nose, is disapproving, but the intensity of his stare betrays what he really wants.
You press the button, locking the binders around his wrists, then stare back at him, watching the emotions swirl in his eyes. It's like you can see him traveling through all the same thoughts you'd had when this idea had come to you back in his quarters.
In any other scenario he would be giving in. He'd be at fault for not stopping you. But now... You've taken away his choice. You've lifted that burden from his shoulders. All he can do is protest. And you're ready to see if he's willing to do so, or pretend innocence as he's done so many times before.
You sink to your knees in front of him, sliding your palms down to his thighs, then running your hands up beneath his tunic. Your fingers curl at his waist, slowly dragging his clothes down, and you feel his cock twitch when you graze your thumb over the bunched fabric. You snap your eyes up, waiting from him to say the word.
His chest is rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. His eyes are piercing you with an aching, tight-jawed, guilty look. But he's silent.
Overwhelmingly, obliteratingly silent.
You finally free him, staring with an obscene lack of restraint at the glossy river of precum soaking down the side of his dick.
"Oh," you murmur softly. "Obi Wan..."
At the edge of your view, you see his eyes flutter heavily when you say his name. You gently settle your fingers around him, enjoying his soft breath of relief. Sliding your thumb up along his shaft, you spread out the slick, coating more of his skin.
This should be a utilitarian exercise in urgency. You should be using your hand to get him off, hard and fast. But you left 'should' behind a long time ago. So you slowly turn your wrist, pumping your hand a few times, not with any real pressure, just for the pleasure of running up and down the full length of him. Then you lick your palm and do it again, listening to him suck air above you.
You swallow, caught gazing up at him, and have to urge yourself to keep going. You want to go slow; wring out of him every carnal desire he's pent up for the last several months. But you're already pushing it by drawing it out this long, and part of you is still afraid he'll ask you to stop.
When you finally lower your mouth to his pulsing, straining cockhead, you suck at the tip, flicking your eyes up to look at him again. His hairline is dark with sweat and he's panting like he's losing an agonizing battle. You lock onto his gaze and flatten your tongue to lap slowly at the slit of his cock, watching his eyes widen as your mouth drops open to swirl lazy circles.
"You taste so good," you drawl before slipping your lips around him, suckling softly.
"Ah- hmm..." That earns you a sound something like a sudden, abrupt hum. Like he's trying to get ahold of himself before words begin to fall out.
You drag your lips back up to the tip, then spread them wide and push his head inside the wet heat of your mouth. He goes rigid. Closing your eyes, you focus on giving him all the warm, soft pressure he needs. You engulf his thick head like he's going to pull away at any moment, hollowing your cheeks to suck him sweetly, realizing to your dismay that you could do this for hours.
When you open your throat and take him deeper at last, he rewards you with a loud, plaintive groan. He hits the back of your throat, making you gag for a moment, tears springing to your eyes. You squeeze your legs together, soaking between them, and swallow his twitching cock. You make a small sound in the back of your throat as you wrap your hand around him and start to bob your head, one hand pushing into the back of his leg to bring him closer and the other hand drowning in your own spit, pressed tight below your mouth and running over the length of him as you find your rhythm.
"Stars-" he grinds out. You open your throat and take him even deeper, watching his mouth fall open at first, and then watching him snap it shut to look down at you, face screwed up in a pained expression. His eyes crinkle hard at the edges and his brows pin together, a deep line creasing his face between them.
"This feel good?" you pop your mouth off for a moment to ask him. "You can tell me."
You slide him back in, falling right back into your rhythm, waiting for an answer. But he says nothing. You want to be generous. You want to keep going. In fact, nothing could possibly make you want to stop. But you need to hear him say it just once. You won't be doing this again, and you can't pass up your one chance to hear him say that he liked it. That he wanted it.
You feel his cock throb beneath your tongue, but he doesn't answer. You pull away again, pumping him with your hand.
"Come on." You lower your voice. "You can say it."
His teeth are just visible when he opens his mouth, almost baring them at you. His gaze is somewhere between warning and pleading.
"Tell me it feels good, Obi Wan." You're practically suffocating him with your mouth between interrogations, now. You squeeze him with your slippery hand, lips gliding over him in punishing, repetitive strokes.
You gasp off, panting, "Does it feel good?"
"Yes," he moans.
You're practically dripping, pulsing between your legs at the hoarse groan he lets out. You can't help it. You want to hear more. You pull off again.
"Would you like me to keep going?"
His head lolls to the side and a harsh sigh escapes from deep in his chest, as if to say you know the answer. As if he's scolding you for asking it, and desperate not to reply.
So you relent, and you give him back the slick, perfect heat of your mouth until he's bucking his hips softly with each dip of your head to meet you, and you look up again to see the wrecked look on his face. His cock is pulsing, his breath wild and ragged. It's like he's ready to come, but for some reason, he's holding back.
Then you realize it. You haven't told him, and he can't ask.
"Mmf," you mumble, pulling his cock free of your mouth one last time to tell him, "You can come in my mouth, just like this. Please. Come down my throat."
"Oh, fucking-" he spits out, then seems to melt into your grip, hips falling out of rhythm as his head tilts up-
...only to snap it back down, his body curling in and shuddering violently to a stop when the door lock clicks open.
His cock pops free of your mouth, bouncing when he jerks away, and you're already standing up and scrambling to put his clothes in place before your mind can fully register what's going on.
The door swings open just as you desperately slap the button to free Obi Wan's hands and straighten your own clothes. A pair of soldiers look extremely surprised to see you.
"Master Jedi," one of them says, trading his looks between you and Obi Wan, clearly not sure whom to address first. "I... I didn't know this cell was, um, occupied."
You take a step to the side, trying to block anything unprofessional in Obi Wan's appearance. "Yes, I checked in and gave orders not to disturb us. We are... investigating the... presence of the criminal who occupied this cell last week."
"I see," the guard answers. He doesn't seem suspicious to find you here. They both just seem put-off by your jumpy demeanor.
"Yes, so if you would be so kind as to-"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, no one told us the orders. I've escorted the security technician down here to work on fixing the cams. I'm afraid you'll need to come back later."
"Oh, I..." you trail off.
"That's quite alright, gentlemen," Obi Wan finishes for you. "We can report our findings thus far. Have a nice evening."
He gestures calmly toward the door and you obediently join him in leaving, grateful for the end of the conversation.
It's a long, stiff, quiet walk down the hallway. Thankfully, you don't cross paths with anyone else on the way out. You're nearly at the other end of the hall before you dare to lean in and whisper, "We can, um... We still have the ship."
He gives you a quick head shake in response, and you can feel the frustration in it. "For thirty more minutes before Master Fisto will be looking for it. We need to have it back at the dock before the next shift."
You take a breath, realizing that wasn't a 'no'.
"Well," you say slowly; carefully. "We still have your quarters."
Back at his quarters, he can't pretend innocence anymore, but perhaps you've pushed him past that.
You wait. And wait. And he doesn't answer.
And you board the ship. And he doesn't answer.
And when you land back at the dock a few minutes later, you realize: He's given you his answer.
--
A/N: The next chapter might be the last; possibly two more, depending on how long it ends up. Please feel free to comment or message me to be added to the tag list. :)
Taglist: @slinkygail @wheres-mylove @millercontracting @cacti5539 @b0xerdancer-writes
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I'm rewatching Trollhunters in the background right now, and the disfunctional mother son relationship between Jim and his mom is making me crazy.
Like, he's taking care of the household and his mother for years as a teenager and before probably. She is sometimes giving half hearted comments about him not having to do so much, but very obviously she's not gonna make him stop do all the cooking and cleaning. Y'know. Both because they've been living like this for years, and because it's obviously also very comfortable to have someone do all the house work.
Then Strickler comes into the picture, and if we ignore the whole Troll and changeling side of the story, Barabara gets very offended cause Jim doesn't want her to meet him privately. Again, ignoring the whole magic and trolls stuff, STRICKLER IS JIMS TEACHER. If Jim hadn't figured out that Strickler was a changeling he probably wouldn't have a problem with it, but the fact that he does, no matter the reason, should be enough for Barbara to put a stop to the relationship. Her child is clearly uncomfortable with her seeing/dating that guy, for whatever reason, and even clearly vocalized it. But she doesn't care about, or rather, she tells Jim that she "wouldn't expect something like that" from him. Obviously not, cause she may see him like her child/teenager he is, BUT DOESN'T TREAT HIM LIKE ONE.
And then Jim, unknowingly to Barbara, becomes the Trollhunter, and his behavior changes. He's suddenly doing reckless stuff, sneaking out, getting bruises, landing in detention and even at the police station, barely avoiding a police report. What does she do? Asking him what's going on? If everything's alright at school? If he has any other problems? Maybe trying to lower his workload around the house, which again, he's doing most of that as a teenager and longer probably.
Nah. She doesn't do anything until he lands in the hospital. Except for again, dismissing him rather negatively at the one topic he's openly expressing any negative opinions about (Strickler). And after he lands in the hospital she now starts not asking questions, but demanding answers. Demanding answers from a teenager in a difficult situation who is also now acting much more like a teenager than he ever did before, from her point of view at least. Except she obviously doesn't know how to deal with a teenager, cause she has never had to raise or live with a teenager. She instead lived with a child pretending to be an adult for years, that was partly much more of an adult than she was, who did way to much work even before Jim became the Trollhunter. So she throws punishments at him and grounds him, but does he listen?
No. Cause why should he? Not only is he dealing with things much more important than being grounded, yknow, saving the world, he's trying to protect her from the sheer knowledge of the supernatural and physically protecting her from getting harmed. And again, for the majority of the time since his dad left he pretended to be an adult. He was and is the main adult in the household, dealing with important things she doesn't even know about.
The only one's treating Jim like a teenager are teachers, other children and Blinky and Aaargh sort of when they're not in the middle of Troll business. Strickler, in the first episodes where Jim doesn't know about his true identity, is much more of a parental figure to Jim (also after his redemption later on tbh) than his mother.
In summary: Barbara is treating her son like an adult, almost like a partner, instead of a child/teenager. And when that isn't possible anymore she doesn't know how to properly treat him. She also doesn't really care that her son is uncomfortable with her being around Strickler, or Strickler in general. And it takes Blinky telling her (when Jim is 16) that Jim might be affected by his father leaving when he was five years old.
Jim meanwhile is treating his mother more like a child/teenager instead of the adult and MOTHER that she is. Seeing her as his responsibility. Cooking for her. Cleaning for her. Telling her to rest and take breaks.
They obviously love each other other. And their relationship might not be toxic, but it's very much disfunctional. In a way that is mostly negative for Jim.
#toa#toa trollhunters#trollhunters#jim lake jr#jim lake junior#barbara lake#walter strickler#trollhunters strickler#tales of arcadia#blinky#aarghhh#trollhunters blinky#Barabara; just because Steves mother has a relationship with one of his teachers and it working out between him and her son#Doesn't mean it's gonna work out for you#If you're a parent and your child is uncomfortable with a partner of yours#YOU BREAK IT UP#Especially if your child is still living with you#Seriously#Okay I know trainer Lawrence probably only became Steves stepdad later in the series#And they also had to work some things out first#But at least they didn't try to kill each other and trainer Lawrence was actively trying to be a good parent/friend to steve#And don't get me started on “A vespa costs so much”: YOU'RE A DOCTOR#Don't know much about new jersey or wherever the show takes place but doctors earn good money almost everywhere#Especially with how much nightshifts and over time hours she has#Not being sure about your 16 year old driving I understand#But don't try to excuse it with money when you're obviously not poor and he's been wanting it for so long that you could've easily saved up#The money till his 16th birthday#Okay I ranted about this long enough#Also the fandom is dead so nobody will read this probably#Byeee
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Hi Liv!!! I’ve seen you have an draco injury/disability reclist but I was wondering if yoy knew of any fics where harry had an injury/disability??
thank you!!
Hi anon! Yes definitely, here are some hurt!Harry for you:
Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (E, 10k)
Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?). A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.
The Snitch-Maker by Omi_Ohmy (T, 21k)
Draco is content with his Snitches, with the tap tap tap of his hammer, and the tiny gears and sharp scent of metal in his workshop - until one day Harry Potter appears, asking for help to solve a rash of Snitch-tampering in the Quidditch world.
Fearful Trill by @vukovich (E, 29k)
Harry should have come out and met someone when he was younger. He should have seen a doctor about the pain in his hip while youth was still on his side. Now, he's made his peace with dying young, but maybe not with dying alone.
If an Injury Is to Be Inflicted by @shealwaysreads (E, 45k)
Harry Potter disappeared a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, and with him went all hope for true change in magical Britain. Three years later, Draco indulges himself and attends his first Dog Fight—the infamous underground fights with no rules, no referee, and no points system bar blood on the floor. The game was simple: you win, or you die.
fly like paper, high like planes by @harryromper (M, 47k)
Harry Potter, Head Coach of the Appleby Arrows, is very content leading a quiet life. He has a doddery old house-elf who makes his breakfast, a team of players who love Quidditch almost as much as he does, and a Kneazle that curls against his damaged leg at the foot of his bed at night. The absolute last thing he needs is a fit, tattooed, and wildly talented Draco Malfoy back from living his life on the margins.
Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding (E, 71k)
Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with.
Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore (M, 82k) - cw: major permanent disability
When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration. But when a group of left-over Death Eaters decides to stir trouble, their lives change completely – and it takes them both some years to figure out whether it’s for better or for worse.
Balance, Imperfect by @bixgirl1 (E, 91k)
When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source.
Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (E, 131k)
Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.
The Ordeal of Being Known by @lou-isfake (M, 146k)
When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge... especially from Potter.
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Bathtub Confession (Eres Tú)
Sukuna x Reader
Part 3 to this
The one where you learn that certain confessions don't always have to be romantic, but others certainly do.
Word Count: 5.7k
Notes: Part 3 of my Sukuna x Reader celebrity!au. Takes place directly after part two. Song of inspiration: Eres Tú by Carla Morrison
Content: bandmember Sukuna x actor female Reader (referred to as such, but left descriptively vague), no y/n, manager Nanami, bodyguard Toji, actor Gojo, found family vibes, some angst, fluff, crack, humor, out of character Sukuna (he's so fluffy), suggestive, maybe lightly explicit, tho no sex actually occurs just yet (sorry), so please avoid accordingly.
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“Should I change my name?”
A beat of silence. A drop of water.
“No.”
“Should I get a wig?”
Another beat of silence. A clink of glass on tile.
“No.”
“Should I flee the country?”
A minuscule half second of silence.
“Not if you’re going to quit paying me,” Toji grumbled.
His response made the frown on your face dip down further on your lips, and you rolled your head against the back of your porcelain tub to stare at the ceiling.
“Is that all you see me as?” you whined, “A paycheck?”
“You want me to lie?”
“That’s it, I’m going to drown myself.”
That gets a long, heavy sigh from your bodyguard and you can hear him readjust himself on the chaise lounge seated in the middle of your expansive bathroom before he carries on.
“First off,” he grunts, “no you’re not. That would require me to pull your sad self naked from the tub, and we both know we don’t want that. Second…you know you’re not just a paycheck.” Toji goes quiet for a moment. “I’d like to think that we’ve become a sort of family over the last couple years, you, me, and Nanami. Shoot, even Megs too when he’s around.”
His soft confession brings a smile to your face, and you turn your head to the right to look in his direction from behind a large mahogany privacy screen. It stands tall, wrapping just barely around the ends of your tub where your feet and head lay, keeping you securely tucked away from any prying eyes. It found its way there long ago, because this wasn’t the first time that Toji had played therapist from his dedicated chaise while you lounged in a hot bath and the two of you shared a bottle of wine.
“Thank you,” you whispered to him, “I’m grateful you’re my friend…and my family.”
“Don’t worry about it, I know you are. But don’t go on getting too upset or sentimental just because you’ve had a rough day. Things haven’t been that bad,” Toji said, and you groaned at the reminder.
After finally arriving home safely—no thanks to you—Toji immediately went into damage control mode and spent the afternoon fielding phone calls and text messages, though nothing too serious had been blown your way yet.
You had received a none-too-pleased email from the producer of the movie you and Satoru were co-starring in, accusing you of sabotaging the release by not waiting to reveal your relationship with Sukuna until after the movie premiered in a few short months (as if he couldn’t tell that what happened today wasn’t by choice). Luckily, Satoru swooped in with his sweet-talking words and buttered the producer right back into promising extra money for a job well done. Though Satoru’s idea of fixing things was convincing the producer that the only premise that sold better than a classic love story was the angst of a good ol’ fashioned love triangle, and he was more than happy to play the jilted lover dead set on winning you back. You wondered what it must be like to live in such delusions.
What really put the cherry on top of a bad day was the text you received from Sukuna shortly after arriving home. It wasn’t anything particularly worrisome, a straight to the point, “I’ll call you this evening, busy smoothing a couple things out, x,” but it had you in a fit nonetheless. After sending a quick affirmation back, you threw your phone across the couch in your living room and flung yourself onto the nearest surface to bemoan your miserable existence. Toji was not amused when that nearest surface happened to be his chest, and he only offered you five minutes of soaking his shirt with snot and tears before he drug you upstairs to your bedroom, turned on the hot water to your tub, and shoved you into the bathroom with a promise to return with wine if you quieted down for just a second.
So here you were, an hour later, soaking under a mountain of peppermint scented bubbles while you toed at the hot water handle at the end of the tub.
“You think if I begged hard enough Nanami would let me come stay with him for the rest of his vacation? I’m afraid I’m in need of a tropical escape,” you told Toji, already calculating in your head how quickly you could pack your bags and be on the next plane to Malaysia.
Toji chuckled, “No, I don’t think he would, considering he refused to tell us anything more about his trip other than what country he’d be in and when he’d be back. You showing up would take seven years off his life. Add three more if he opens up the door to you sobbing like you’ve been all day. Besides, running away to another country just because you’re afraid to talk to your boyfriend is a cowardly move.”
You ‘tsked’ at him for calling you out on poor behavior and slouched further down into the hot water in shame-filled defeat. Instead of wallowing in it further though, you popped your ankles up on the rim of the tub, tossed your arms back to hang behind your head, and clapped twice to get Toji’s attention.
“Another glass of wine, please,” you mocked in as snobby an accent as you could manage.
“What do you take me as? I’m not your damn butler,” he complained, but you could hear the quick successive cracking of his back as he stood up from the chaise and stretched.
“Just one more and that’ll be it, I promise.” You considered what else could entice him into doing your bidding. “I’ll let you be done for the evening and take the day off tomorrow if you also bring me a plate of cheese and crackers, please.”
Toji was silent before letting out a begrudging “fine” and shuffling out the door without another complaint.
You marveled in the silence, nothing but the occasional lap of water as you adjusted yourself in the tub to break it. After a few minutes, however, you realized the absence of conversation was the perfect environment for your thoughts to run unhindered, and that was not something you cared to partake in at the given time. Trying to concentrate on anything else though was futile, and perhaps trying to wade through your own head for a few minutes would leave you feeling better when you chose to pointedly ignore it once your butler…ahem, Toji, returned with your snacks.
Besides falling on national television—and underneath Gojo Satoru nonetheless—you had a particularly difficult time deducing from yourself what exactly about the accidental revelation of your relationship with Sukuna caused you so much embarrassment. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be associated with him or that you always intended for the relationship to remain secret until it had reached its course; your desire was quite the opposite, actually. It was a feeling best left to baser animals and bedroom activities, but the idea of staking a claim, proving that he belonged to you in a way, was not unappealing and not something you could talk your way out of thinking, especially with the world the two of you lived in.
If you got down to it, the real problem lay in your unfortunate habit of caring what people thought. You didn’t want Sukuna to see you as childlike, only a few years younger than him in age but miles behind in maturity. You didn’t want him to view today’s incident as a misfortunate foreshadow into the “what if’s” of your relationship. Neither did you want the world looking at the two of you and questioning how exactly something like it came to be. Where Sukuna was all sharp angles and dark colors, suave nonchalance and carrying a presence that demanded to be seen, you felt painfully opposite. You wouldn’t self-deprecate and believe that you were unworthy of standing beside him, but just cognizant of how different you felt. More like something that could be just as appreciated, but more likely to be overlooked and favored over something brighter. A “mismatched pair” is what they would call you, something that struck you so vividly that the pressure in your chest increased ten-fold. You knew he would hear it, see it, be made aware of it, and while he may not agree right away, you wondered how long it would take for the sphere of influence to get to him too. The anticipatory grief (as your actual therapist called it, usually followed by anxiety) of waiting for someone you valued so much to realize that he had better options was enough to make you consider running away from the whole thing entirely.
And that’s how you came back to scheming your departure from the country. If you hurried, you could probably towel off, pack a bag, and slip out the back before Toji realized (you wondered if the big oaf had decided to take a nap instead of bringing you snacks for how long it’d been since you last heard him). Surely Nanami wouldn’t abandon you in your time of need if you were wailing at him over the phone in the airport of a foreign country.
But alas, you heard your bathroom door open, effectively cutting off any means of escape.
“It’s about time, Toji. What took you so long?” He neither spoke, nor took another step. “Eh, no matter. Bring me my snacks, please.”
Footsteps continued again and before you could chastise Toji further, a voice spoke up from right behind your privacy screen.
“Should I be concerned with the normalcy of your bodyguard attending to you while you’re naked in the bath?”
The shock of hearing Sukuna’s voice caused you to jolt, sending your legs into the water with an unmistakable splash and leaving you to scurry back into a sitting position from where you had slipped dangerously close to submerging your whole head underwater. The indecency of it all would kill you if this conversation that was about to happen didn’t.
“I assure you,” you started, hoping you didn’t sound as wrecked as you felt, “it is not nearly as salacious as you made it out to be.”
Sukuna hummed. “Really? Because it sounded as if you were expecting him, and when I ran into him downstairs he told me to tell you that he would be back up to deliver wine and cheese shortly. Sounds like a romantic evening to me if I’ve ever heard one.”
You were relieved to hear a hint of amusement in your boyfriend’s voice, but horrified at what he was saying.
“Please stop implying things that’ll make me gag.”
Sukuna chuckled, but was quiet for a minute until, “You have five seconds to tell me to stop before I move this privacy screen so we can talk face to face.”
You shot upwards, looking around hurriedly as you tried to scrape the remaining bubbles in the tub to strategic places in order to maintain your dignity, though you realized a moment later that it was probably unnecessary. With a second left, you brushed tendrils of your hair away from your face and wiped your thumb across the top of your lip to remove any remnants of a wine stain from your skin. In the next, Sukuna was pushing aside the privacy screen and looking down at you with a blank—but not unkind—expression. You eyed him warily as he walked up to the edge of the tub and dropped a cushion from the chaise Toji was sitting on earlier to the floor. He settled himself down onto it and then placed his elbow on the edge of the tub so he could lean in close to you.
“Hello,” you whispered to him, settling both your arms down next to his and then resting your head against them. A small smile crossed his face.
“Hello to you too.”
You were surprised at the lack of tension in his face, no clenched jaw or heavy brow to be seen, and as you trailed your eyes further down his torso you noticed its absence there too. His shoulders were relaxed, and his chin was cupped in the hand propped up on the tub so he could gaze at you with those unnervingly observant eyes of his. You wished he’d been wearing a t-shirt instead of the thin navy turtleneck he currently had on so you could focus your stare on the black tattoos decorating his body. Aside from being intricate, and distracting, they always gave you something to look at when meeting his eyes felt like too much.
The tenderness of Sukuna’s knuckles meeting your temple forced you to look back up at him, only to see that he was following the path his fingers were making over your skin. They grazed over your cheekbone, feathered down the bridge of your nose, and then were skimming over your mouth, his thumb catching ever so lightly on your bottom lip. His hand didn’t linger there, and it was quick to skate over your jaw before his thumb landed under your ear and the rest of his fingers tangled in your hair while his palm cupped your neck. With a slide of his other hand up your arm and down your back to press between your shoulder blades, Sukuna brought you close enough to him that he was able to reach the rest of the way over the tub and kiss you. His lips remained pressed against yours for a second or two before he broke away, hesitated, and then leaned in to do it once more, twice, and a third time.
You were the one that put space between the two of you, sitting back in the water and drawing your knees to your chest. You desperately needed to inhale without smelling the crispness of his aftershave or the spiced warmth of his cologne, both of which were guilty of making your head spin.
“You’re not mad at me?” you asked, breaking the silence before he had a chance to, before you lost your nerve. You watched as his head tilted slightly to one side, his expression a touch befuddled, but full of disbelief.
“Why would I be mad at you?” He questioned slowly, moving himself to his knees on the cushion so he could go back to resting his arms on the tub.
“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be,” you told him, your voice a bit sharp. “I inadvertently told anyone with access to the internet that we were dating, without even talking to you about it, and then proceeded to flee the scene like a coward instead of getting back out there to present myself as confident enough to own up to my mistakes. Not to mention the fall with Satoru right before. It’s embarrassing. The whole thing made us—me—look like a giant mess!”
Your voice cracked on the last word, and you bit down on the inside of your cheek until you tasted iron. Sukuna looked pained, and he reached a hand out to play with your fingers as they sat at the top of your knees.
“You’re not a mess,” he said, rubbing his thumb in small circles over the middle knuckle of one of your fingers, “and I’m not embarrassed either. I never intended to keep us a secret, and I’m not trying to implicate you when I say this, but I don’t think I ever implied doing so that evening.”
“Well, yeah,” you huffed, the twinkle in his ochre-brown eyes and the mischievous grin on his face as he hinted to the night the two of you cemented your relationship into the category of “official” making your face get warm, “we didn’t do a whole lot of talking after that point.”
You tried to jerk your hands out from under his to cover up your cheeks, but Sukuna was unrelenting in his hold, and you gave up before continuing on, “I know you never implied that you wanted to keep our relationship hidden, but that’s been the theme of whatever we’ve had going on these last ten months. We were sneaking around from the very beginning, we lied about it to Yuji and Choso, and then let’s not forget about the whole incident of being caught by Satoru,” you pointed out to him, feeling the slightest bit smug when he looked chagrined.
“I apologized for that,” he reminded you, his voice tone faintly defensive. You squeezed his hand in comfort.
“You did, and I’m not upset about it.”
You took a deep breath and cast your eyes everywhere except Sukuna, taking in the details of your bathroom as you tried to muster the courage to share your insecurities with him. He never let his attention on you deviate, and between that and the heat of the water you had been in for almost two hours, you were beginning to feel lightheaded, and everything finally came rushing out of your mouth.
“I feel like we’re mismatched! It feels like everytime someone looks at us, they’re going to wonder why, like we don’t fit well together. And I’m not saying I believe that, or that you would believe that, and I know this whole thing sounds ridiculous because it is ridiculous, but it’s hard to get outside of my own head about this when I already love you so mu—,”
The startled look on Sukuna’s face is what clued you in to the fact you had said something you had not intended to. You snapped your mouth shut with an audible click of your teeth and used your feet to push away from him and to the otherside of the tub, wrenching your hands out of his grasp.
If someone asked why you never liked to talk about your feelings, this was why. Why the words that came out were never as eloquent—or as sane—as the thoughts in your head was something you’d pay so much money to figure out. And Kento was about to have no choice in letting you hide out with him for the rest of his vacation because you were no longer asking, and if he was interested in keeping his job he would do so without complaint. Even so, you considered that forcibly releasing Kento from the grip of a career that was so wrought with overtime would be another mercy for the overworked sal—,
“You know what I think,” Sukuna murmured, bringing you out of your own head to focus with rapt attention on the blissfully contented expression he wore. His fingers curled around the tops of your arms as he reached out to slide you back to his side of the tub, and when you were close enough again, he pushed his nose into the plushness of your cheek to nuzzle there affectionately. You were transfixed by a small tan freckle on the edge of his eyebrow that you somehow hadn’t noticed before.
“I think this whole time you’ve been so focused on pleasing everyone around you—which isn’t necessarily unadmirable, I promise—and treading with extreme care to take into consideration my feelings about our relationship that you haven’t noticed what’s been going on…or I haven’t been doing a very satisfactory job of making it apparent.”
He said the last part more under his breath, but didn’t give you a chance to interject with an objection before he carried on, making intently sure your eyes were on his. “From the very beginning, even when all I had of you were fleeting touches and secret meetings in questionable places, I was always bound to fall in love with you.”
You didn’t know what to say, what to think, and trying to wrap your head around the fact that what you considered to be one of the worst days of your life was ending with unintentional confessions of love in your bathtub wasn’t helping. So you did what you could and traced a finger down one of the tattoos under his eyes, hoping he would keep talking.
“We aren’t a mismatched pair,” he insisted, his eyelids fluttering slightly at your gentle touch, “I think we compliment each other quite well, so please, don’t try to hide or run away.” He fixed you with a pointed look that told you Toji had warned him of your current status as a flight risk, and you ducked your head slightly and in a way that you hope conveyed repentance.
“Because you must know, I will always be chasing after you.”
You wasted no time in hurrying to crush your lips against his and throw your arms around his neck, because what else was there to do when words couldn’t suffice, other than to surrender to the melding of bodies?
Sukuna reciprocated in fervor, breaking apart from you only to stand up from his place on his knees, and reached down to cup his hands under your bottom, lifting you out of the tub and securing your thighs around his hips while his mouth found yours again.
He seemed to care not that you were dripping water on the floor and soaking the front of his clothes from where you were pressed tightly against him. He stumbled back a couple steps until the back of his knees made contact with the chaise, and the two of you fell back onto it. Sukuna adjusted you to straddle his lap, his hands clasping at your hips while your hands scrambled down his back to pull up his shirt. You ground your pelvis down against him as he dropped his head to mouth at your neck, and the rough groan that elicited from his throat had you deciding that your bed was too far away to justify taking time to separate, and that the convenience of the chaise was worth going to the trouble of having to buy Toji a new one. You had no more than let the thought flutter through your head when an obnoxiously loud knock resounded through the bathroom.
“You two haven’t drowned yet, have you?”
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
Sukuna ripped his lips away from where he was sucking a mark into the space where your shoulder blended into your neck, and met your gaze with one that dared you to intervene.
“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, using the grip he still had on your waist to hold you in place while he rolled his hips up into yours, and you prayed that the moan you let out wasn’t as loud as it sounded. Even if it was, you hoped Toji would get the hint and make himself scarce.
“Look, I get it,” your bodyguard remarked, sounding both amused and vaguely uncomfortable, “but it’s kinda, maybe important.”
With both the mood dashed and your anxiety spiked again, you patted Sukuna on the shoulder in a bid to get him to let you slide off his lap. He rolled his eyes, exasperation—and lustful desperation—painted clearly on his face, but he helped you down without giving you any grief and grabbed a black fluffy robe from where it was draped over your privacy screen. He held it out so you could thread your arms through it, and then he proceeded to tie the belt securely around your waist.
“Come in, Toji,” you called, moving to sit on the chaise while Sukuna came to stand at your back.
Your bodyguard waited a moment before opening the door, peeking his head around first and then sauntering in with his normal arrogance to lean against your bathroom counter just a couple feet in front of you.
“Glad to see that nobody’s drowned. There’s only one of you I’d be willing to do mouth-to-mouth on,” Toji joked, clearly proud of what he had come up with. You felt Sukuna’s hands come to rest on the tops of your shoulders, his fingertips digging into the muscles lightly. They relaxed when you bought one of your hands up to twine your fingers with his.
“So, to what do we owe the interruption?” you asked. The amusement on Toji’s face vanished, and in its place came weariness.
“I just got off the phone with Nanami, and—,”
“You called him?!” You yelped, springing up from your seat, “I begged you not to!”
“Whoa, Whoa,” Toji cautioned, raising his hands up in a surrender, “easy with the accusations. He called me. He knew.” And before you could open your mouth to ask how, Toji’s expression darkened and his eyes flicked up over you to glare at Sukuna. “Uraume called him.”
You whirled around to look at Sukuna, who—thankfully—seemed just as surprised by the news as you did.
“I didn’t ask them to do that,” he assured you, then turned to Toji, “did Nanami say what they wanted?”
“Just to talk about the whole situation, more or less. Nanami said they only talked for about ten minutes, but they’re planning to discuss things more when he comes back in five or six days.” Your bodyguard sighed and crossed his legs as he leaned back further against your counter. “He was nearly ready to hop on the first plane home, but I managed to convince him to finish his vacation. Told him it’d damn near break your heart if he came back early.”
You plopped back down on the chaise, bone tired and completely ready for this whole day to be over.
“Thank you, Toji. I’m sorry for jumping down your throat like that.”
“Don’t sweat it, Princess,” he said, pulling a vaguely familiar set of keys out from his pocket and pushing himself off the counter to walk towards the door. “You two going to be okay if I head out? I have some errands to run and then I’ll probably crash at Megumi’s tonight instead of the staff quarters.”
You nodded at him, sending him off with a wave before shifting to look back at Sukuna.
“Stay with me?” you pleaded. He answered with a kiss to your hair, and then offered his arm so you could stand from the chaise. He followed after you into your bedroom, and the faint flutter of clothing made you glance back over your shoulder. Your heart began to race at the sight of his bare chest, tattoos displayed in full glory. You must have made some kind of noise because he looked up at you from where he was draping his shirt over the back of a lounging chair in the corner of your room.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said sheepishly, “my clothes are wet.”
You shook your head, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched the muscles in his back flex as he bent down to push his jeans to the floor, leaving him in simple grey underwear. There must have been something written all over your face as he began to walk towards you, for he was reaching out to pull you into him as soon as he got close enough.
“I’m tired, Sukuna,” you warned as he pressed your cheek to his chest, though you wondered if you could muster up the energy to continue where the two of you had left off in the bathroom. Surely he would make it worth your while.
“I know,” he told you, voice light and good-natured, and he tightened his arms around you briefly before stepping back and nodding in the direction of your bed, “why don’t you go get comfortable. Toji left your snacks on your dresser. Want to finish them off before bed?”
With a grateful nod, you turned to leap onto your bed, sitting down in the middle and wiggling with excitement as Sukuna came to join you. He sat the tray of food and wine in between the two of you and crossed his legs underneath himself before picking up a piece of cheese and offering it to you. You smiled in thanks and began to nibble on it while he surveyed his options.
“Mhm,” you started, an errant thought popping into your head, “I’m assuming since Uraume knows that Yuji and Choso know now as well?” Sukuna raised his head slowly from where he had been studying the various snacks, and the hint of guilt on his face wasn’t confidence inspiring.
“They do,” he drew out, observing you carefully, “they were both watching the interview with me.”
You groaned as white-hot embarrassment flooded your body, and you fell back against your pillows, grabbing one to shove over your face to muffle the bitter laughter you couldn’t control. “What do they think?”
“It’s nothing you should be worrying about,” Sukuna said, suddenly sitting by your head and lifting the pillow off your face to set it above your head, “you know they adore you. Choso was his normal, level-headed self. He’s happy for us. Yuji was just as ecstatic once he got his laughter under control, if a bit disappointed that we hadn’t told him.” Your boyfriend paused, his face darkening suddenly, and you watched with interest as a muscle feathered in his jaw.
“What?” you asked, pushing yourself back into a sitting position and poking him in the arm to urge him to explain. He shook his head, clearly annoyed.
“You know what that little shit said immediately after? He thought that you and Gojo had been secretly dating and were waiting till after your movie was over to say anything.”
Obnoxious laughter erupted from you, and you hurried to slap your hands over your mouth to try to conceal it as Sukuna’s face fell.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you rasped out in between giggles, unable to stop it as you watched Sukuna sit back against your pillows with a huff and a crossing of his arms.
“The little idiot is just dense. And delusional. Anyone could see that you and the q-tip don’t have any real chemistry.” He sounded an awful lot like he was trying to convince himself of the truthfulness of his own statement. You wondered, affectionately, at which brother was a touch deluded. You were a fine actor, thank you very much. And you were about to open your mouth and say so when something ‘plinked’ off the window next to your bed.
Strange. Your bedroom was on the second floor.
Sukuna jerked his head up, all traces of humor forgotten, and the two of you listened for the noise again.
Plink.
“What the hell,” he muttered, pushing off the bed so he could go inspect the noise, “stay right there.”
You appreciated the concern in his voice as he began to lift the window pane open, and he had just begun to stick his head out to look around when something small smacked him right between the eyes, sending him butt-first to the floor.
“Sukuna!” you gasped, rushing over to kneel by his side and lift his hand from where he had it pressed to his forehead. You didn’t get a chance to fawn over him any further before he was up on his feet and striding to your bedroom door.
“Be right back,” he growled, throwing the door open and cursing all the way down the stairs.
You heard something land next to you on the floor, utterly perplexed when it turned out to be a rock from your flower beds. You got up and tiptoed over to the window, just barely lifting your head over the pane as to avoid becoming another victim of a flying projectile, then shot to your feet when you caught sight of a familiar white-haired costar outside beneath your window.
“Satoru!” You screeched, dumbfounded by his mere presence and the way he waved up at you, completely unbothered, “How in the world did you get through the gate?!”
“Hey! There you are!” He called, with a lazy grin on his face, “that’s not really important right now.”
“I would disagree!” You yelled back down to him, making a mental note to have Toji go over all the security points around your property after his day off. “What are you doing here?”
Satoru laughed sarcastically before the smile on his face suddenly disappeared, and he propped his hands up on his hips. “Where is my car?”
No. Way.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Satoru.”
“Nope! Give me back my car. It’s one of a kind!”
You groaned, reaching up to massage the burgeoning headache you could feel at your temples. “Are you sure it’s not out there in the driveway? Toji left just a bit ago, so you shouldn’t be boxed in or—,” you cut off when the memory of your bodyguard twirling an unfamiliar set of his keys around his finger as he left your bathroom flashed across your memory.
Oh god, that absolute bastard.
Satoru must have caught the horrified look on your face, as well as how you suddenly stopped talking after mentioning Toji because his face blanched even paler than usual, and his voice was two octaves higher in distress when he hollered back up at you.
“Does that criminal have my car?!”
You deserved a vacation at this point.
“I’ll call him in the morning, Satoru, I promise. And I’ll make sure he washes it for you or whatever you want, just come back tomorrow.” You hoped placating him with the prospect of torturing Toji would convince him to leave, but no, he still stood rooted to his spot down below.
“As fun as that sounds,” he mocked back up at you, “I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
He looked a bit like a toddler caught with his hand somewhere it shouldn’t be. “Suguru dropped me off and then left in a hurry. He said he had something to do.”
You couldn’t believe that the universe thought that pairing those two together in any capacity was worth the absolute chaos they unleashed on the poor, unsuspecting population.
The slamming of your front door caught your attention, and you figured your boyfriend was about to make himself known.
“Look,” you sighed, backing away from the window slightly, “you can borrow one of my cars and swap it tomorrow when Toji brings yours.” You ignored Satoru’s protests and started to close the window. “Just apologize to Sukuna for hitting him between the eyes with a rock and he’ll open the garage for you.”
You caught the confusion on Satoru’s face, and just barely heard his panicked remark as you shut the window.
“Oh, fu—.”
-------------------------------------------------------------
Whew, that one took it out of me, not gonna lie. Angst and I are not friends.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#ryomen sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#gojo satoru#toji fushiguro
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Morning Coffee
A Hyunjin Drabble
A/N: Americano is a type of coffee, yes?
WC: 480 words
Characters: Hyunjin X Fem Reader
Genre: Fluff
Triggers/Warnings: The characters are morning people, and one of them dislikes coffee; you have been warned.
m.list
The both of you wake when the outside world is still half-asleep, early enough to hear the chirping of birds and the rare quiet of the sleepy city.
You throw open the curtains, rub your eyes and stretch, with your head falling back on his stomach as you lose the battle to sleep, plopping down on the soft sheets of the bed.
He just chuckles and pinches your cheek, and he gets up offering you, his hand.
You accept it and he pulls you up, and you feel like your day is complete even if the sun is just rising.
You open the balcony door and step into the space, clad in a white nightgown. He follows in after, the ceramic mug, the one with cartoon splotches of pink blue and pastel that you gifted him last year, with freshly brewed coffee in one hand. Steam rises from the drink, warming the air around the two of you.
He wraps his right hand around your waist and the left holds the mug. You lean into him, basking in the morning light.
You don't drink coffee, as you're not a fan of its caffeine content. Truly, you can’t stand the scent of it and you absolutely detest its taste.
However, despite this fact, Hyunjin always offers you a sip every morning before he takes his first gulp. As if it's some unspoken agreement that says,
'Hey, I love you. Therefore, I will not have anything for myself without offering it to you first.'
You think it's endearing, the way he wants you to be included in that little habit too.
Just for that, you take a sip sometimes, like today, and make sure to grimace dramatically, exaggerating the bitter relish and complaining about how no one should technically like coffee and he laughs.
He laughs like he's seven and you're his best friend and you've just told him that Santa isn't real. He definitely doesn't believe you, but he loves you enough to play along and nod, even as residual, brown rings form along the inner diameters of the cup and the sun shines brighter in the sky and the world around you slowly comes back to life.
He leans on your shoulders for a little while more, gaining strength to go about his day, as you do the same.
He gives you one last kiss before you go, presses it tenderly onto your amaranth lips and your heart for safekeeping until he can give you one more when he sees you again, and you feel your opinion crumble.
No, you don't like coffee, especially not in the morning.
Because it's too bitter, and caffeine never leaves your bloodstream even if you drink it only once.
But you love the taste of it when it's smeared on your lips by his, the acrid drink suddenly the sweetest thing in the world.
labels: @straykidsland
© booksndpoetry 2024. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise, translate, repost or steal my works in any way. All idols used in this piece are just inspiration to characters. They do not reflect the real people in any way.
#+booksndpoetry#straykidsland#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids imagines#skz fluff#skz hyunjin#hyunjin imagines#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin X you#hyunjin x y/n#hyunjin fanfic#hyunjin fluff#stayblr#writeblr#writing#fanfic writing
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