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clatoera · 1 year

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Chapter 2 Always Remember We’re Burned For Better: Still, the Yearning Stays

Hey y’all! Thank you for your endless kindness and support on the first chapter of this fic. I apologize for the delay in chapter 2. Initially this was going to cover far more than it does, but when I crested 35 pages, I decided to break it into a few extra chapters to cover her games so that I could do them the justice they deserve. This segment along ended up being 18 pages, and thus is may be easier to read on AO3. Thank you all for the comments and feedback. It literally means the world.

AO3 Link to this chapter: Still, the yearning stays

Thanks y’all, and enjoy!

If you need chapter 1 the link is right here!

Master Post of Chapters here

once again, thanks to @ms1818 for screaming with me all the time about the besties.

The minute the doors are shut behind him, Enobaria’s grabs Cato around his arm and pulls him quickly into the first side room on the train.

“Listen to me.” Enobaria practically hisses, peeking her head out to ensure that the entourage, and most importantly Clove, is out of earshot.

The look in her eyes is frightening, which is not a feeling Cato is used to having. Something tells him, though, that this is not the last time this week he’ll be feeling his heart race a little faster just beneath his skin.

“You do not touch her this week, got it? She has gamemakers and sponsors to impress, interviews to nail, and not to mention other tributes she needs to intimidate.” Enobaria releases his arm only when he tugs it out of her hand, his strength alone overcoming her sharp grasp. The mentor does not waver in the way she stares into what feels like the depths of his soul, something akin to a threat in her body language. “She doesn’t need to be distracted. That will get her killed.”

She looks into the long hallway again, knowing it won’t take long for Clove to notice the absence of the two people on the train she’s most likely to miss.

“I didn’t even want you to come this year.” Enobaria is nothing if not honest, especially when it comes to Clove and Cato. “You aren’t ready to mentor, Cato, and you’re a liability to her.”

“That's the whole point, I’m here to learn from the best.” He flashes a smile that tiptoes the line of a smirk, and the second he opens his mouth again Enobaria knows which category the expression is supposed to fall into. “Oh, and you. Brutus and you. Come on, you just know your time as a mentor is numbered. Give us a few years, it’s going to be Me and Clove by the 77th.”

Enobaria hits his chest lightly with the back of her hand, though it nearly comes off as playful. If he notices the way her face falls just a little at the mention of Clove’s future, he doesn’t mention it.

“I don’t want to hear your mouth this week. We have one goal, got it? It’s her. It’s getting her sponsors. It’s making sure she nails her interview. We do whatever we have to do to make her favorable for the win. That’s your first lesson. You do what you have to do, to get your tribute out. To get our girl out.” Enobaria gives him a pointed look, one that tells him the phrasing was no mistake. They were on the same page, at the very least, with the same priority. Clove.

“I think she can handle making herself a favorite to win-” Cato argues, arms crossing over his chest, ready to defend, when that oh so familiar voice can be heard all the way across the train car.

“Will you just shut the fuck up already?” Comes from the girl, indifference with just the slightest edge seeping out of her voice.

Enobaria rolls her eyes before pushing past him, and Cato can’t help the little swell of pride in his chest as he follows her out. He told their escort the same thing, a year ago exactly, when she had rambled on about different districts and what results their reapings yielded.

When he enters the dining area, only steps behind Enobaria, he realizes her ire is not aimed at the escort at all, but rather her fellow volunteer.

Great start, Clove.

“Alliance is off to a great start, I see.” Brutus grumbles as he enters the dining car from the opposite entrance of Enobaria and Cato. “Cheery as usual, Clove.”

Enobaria does not even bother with trying to get the story out of them, knowing that doing so was poking at a bomb on the edge of detonation. Not what they need right now. “Listen. I don’t care if you two like each other.”

“Clove doesn’t like anyone.” The boy– what the fuck was his name, anyway? Cato should probably know, he’d been in classes with him for half a decade– tries to refute.

“I might hate you less if you weren’t an idiot.” There’s venom in that voice now, and from the way Clove stabs through a cinnamon roll with a knife intended for slicing meat, Cato knows that she is biting back far worse insults.

“Stop. Save it for when you’re the final two, the whole world will be ready for that show.” Brutus suggests, though it’s an empty suggestion. Two from the same district rarely, if ever, end up in the final showdown.

Cato strategically settles himself directly across from Clove, in the seat between Brutus and Enobaria, who sits herself as the head of the table.

Clove’s scowling at her pastry, and when he lightly nudges her shin with his shoe, that scowl shifts directly to him. He raises his eyebrows at her for a fleeting moment, the briefest exchange that she instantly understands, communicated by the tiniest hint of a smirk on her lips. Years of training together made it so they could practically read the other's mind, to know what they’re thinking without ever even saying it. Right now, they’re in agreement. That final show will be hers, and she better make it a good one.

Enobaria catches the exchange, if the glare she directs towards Cato is any indication. Whatever. After a quick shake of her head directed at the pair, clearly a direction to cut it out, she decides to intervene in the argument at hand.

“Alright. We know you’re both skilled fighters. You’re the best of two’s current pool of trainees. No need to waste time talking about skills, just go to training and you make sure everyone knows who the one to fear is.”

Clove notices she did not say which district to fear.

“We’re just going right into this, starting with strategy. You–” Enobaria points at the boy and asks his name, but it is so inconsequential to Cato that he doesn’t even care to learn it. Not a chance in hell that he’ll even mention the boy when he’s working on sponsors and publicity. “What’s your angle?”

“I’m going for a classic, strong-”

The boy doesn’t even get to finish his plan when Clove cuts him off with a sharp laugh, and the way she rolls her eyes shows everyone exactly where this boy stands. “Oh you’re even stupider than I thought.”

“Clove, that’s not-” Brutus tries to interject.

“No, It’s a stupid fucking idea.” Clove pulls her knife out of her cinnamon roll, waving it around as she speaks. “Strong. That was Cato’s angle.” She directs the tip of her knife in Cato’s direction, waving it up and down to emphasize where he sits before her. “You want to be compared to him? Everyone remembers him, he’s literally the most recent victor. You can’t hold a fucking candle in comparison to him, anyway.” She stabs a strawberry with the steak knife, making a point to bite it right off the tip of the blade. “Four entire years you never beat him once. You weren’t even second best, that was me. Sounds like suicide to be compared to Cato, if I were you.”

Cato doesn’t even try to hide the cocky smile that graces his face, bringing his right hand to rub under his jaw as he looks down and away from her. He knew what the look in her eyes would be, and he wasn’t in the place to see that mischievous glint. He even bites his tongue from pointing out that she admitted that she was only second best.

“And Cato will actively be doing those Victor interviews, the recap, commentary, all that stuff they do between broadcasts. He’s still in everyone’s face.” Clove twirls the silver knife between her fingers, letting it toss out of her palm before landing in the center of a croissant. “You look like a district 12 kid next to him anyway.”

“Let me guess, you’re going for bitch who has no personality other than being a little psycho with knives?”

“Enough.” It is a snarl this time as it comes from Enobaria, who gives Brutus a look that the man clearly understands. They have their long mentoring partnership that lead to a silent communication of their own, it seems.

“Come with me.” Brutus stands abruptly, gesturing to his tribute. “We’ll talk in the bar car. It might be for the best anyway, keeping your strategies separate.”

The boy throws back his chair and nearly stomps down the hall following Brutus, his footsteps drumming in an angry beat as he follows his individual mentor. The second they are behind closed doors, Enobaria whips her head towards Clove.

“You have to play nice, he’s your district partner, Clove.”

“He’s one more body between me and victory.” She reaches across the table now, plucking a strip of bacon directly from the plate that had been placed in front of Cato by an Avox. “besides, I wasn’t wrong.” Clove emphasizes with a crunch on her stolen treat. “He’s half a foot and forty pounds lighter, to start with.”

“You would know what I weigh wouldn’t you-” Cato taunts, this time he reaches over and steals a piece of jam covered toast off of the plate before her, evening the score. He takes a single bite before handing it back, earning him a slap to the hand.

“I actually have to go compete for my life, I need the extra food.” She argues, though it’s not as cold as it may have been if she said it a year or two ago.

Clove leans back in her chair, stretching her feet out in front of her under the table. This time it’s her foot, out of her shoe and bare, that finds his calf. Her flexible leg easily trails up over his knee and to his thigh. He shifts, and when she thinks she’s won, he grabs her foot and holds it in his lap, refusing to let her slip away.

“This is what I meant when I told you not to get distracted, Clove. The two of you need to stop whatever the fuck you two have going on for the next week. Clove is here as a tribute, and Cato is here as the most recent victor. Period. That's it.” Enobaria leans back in her own chair, arms over her chest, and when she notices the way Cato smirks at Clove, and the girl narrows her eyes in response, she says nothing.

Pick your battles, Enobaria.

“Clove, we have to talk about something.” She redirects, angling to face Clove directly, as both Cato and Clove turn to listen to her.

“Are you going to tell me to play nice with the other kids at school?” Clove nearly jumps when Cato’s thumb presses abruptly into the space right underneath the ball of her foot.She goes to tug her foot back to herself, but he’s got her ankle easily held in his other hand. “Asshole.” She murmurs, but stops her fidgeting regardless.

“They’re going to try to bring up your mother.” Enobaria drops like a bomb, not having it in her to continue addressing the two of them and their behavior.

It appears the phrase causes a tone shift in Clove, her whole body language shifting from whatever playful competitiveness she was showing Cato, to something that is somehow both defensive and stunned.

“I’m not talking about my mother.”

“What would they say about your mom?” Cato cocks his head, but the way his hands hold her shifts as well. This touch is hidden to Enobaria, of course, but Clove notices how his thumb strokes little circles over her ankle in an attempt to comfort whatever distress she must be showing. “She isn’t even around, why would she talk about her, Enobaria?”

Clove directs her attention back to the food spread, suddenly finding much more interest in dicing a kiwi into perfect little cubes. “My mom was a tribute.”

“What?” How wouldn’t he know, she’s a victor’s daughter? Her mother must not live in the village, or he’d have seen her by now, surely. “I didn’t know your mom was a victor, It makes sense but-”

“She was a tribute. She didn’t win.” Clove replied in a clipped voice, but it isn't the kind of snark he is used to hearing from her. “She had me when she was fifteen, volunteered when she was eighteen.”

“There’s more to it, and you know that. The Capitol loves a good story, and they’re going to bring up the fact that she-” Enobaria tries to explain, but the firm head shake from Clove stops her.

“I’m not talking about my mother. I got here on my own. I will win on my own, with no help from her.” Clove snaps, effectively ending this topic of conversation. At least for now.

Cato narrows his eyes towards her, trying to read the expression she is desperately trying to conceal.

“When you win they’re going to bring her up.”

“Enobaria, I’ll remind them that I'm sitting there as the victor that she isn’t.” Clove untangles her limbs from Cato’s and stands. She smooths the hem of her dress, and for a moment she remembers the year before, when Cato ran his fingers over the white lace on the dress she wore, as if he were trying to remember how she looked for the rest of his life.

“I’m going to check out the rest of the train.” Clove announces, seeing herself off before either Cato or Enobaria could intercept her.

He watches her go, and once she has shut the door behind her, Cato turns his body and his attention to Enobaria.

“I didn’t even know she knew who her mom was, she doesn’t talk about her. Ever.”

“I mean, you see why. I remember her mother, she was a few years older than me in training. It’s a terrible story, and I'm not telling it. If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you. It’s not for me to say.” Enobaria sighs, leaning back on the metal chair, rocking it onto the hind legs so she can balance briefly before falling back forward with grace. “We’ve got our work cut out for us with those two. Welcome to mentoring.”

“She’s our priority, she is our winner.” Cato reminds, though Enobaria isn’t sure if he intends it as a warning or as a reminder.

“Of course she is. But I can't say that part yet.” Enobaria realizes that brunch has unceremoniously ended. “Don’t go to her room. You also have to arrive in one piece.”

And while Cato knows it’s for the best to give her space (Clove was always particularly volatile when she was angry), it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to soak up every moment he has with her.

Enobaria bans Cato from the opening ceremonies and tribute parade. Something about how he needed to stick to the reigning victor narrative, to network himself and lock in support before throwing his complete and total allegiance behind Clove.

“Let her prove herself. She’s got the skills, let her draw in the sponsors, and then you lock them in.” She had instructed him, before she sent him up to the District Two suite on his own.

Enobaria knew what she was doing. He trusts her.

As he watches the parade of tributes, he intends to make note of any competition, any realistic allies. One is a given. Neither tribute looks particularly impressive, average size for careers dressed in head to toe sequin monstrosities, but they are careers nonetheless. Four hasn’t deserved to be considered a career district since Finnick Odair back in the 65th, if someone were to ask Cato. Even Annie Cresta’s win back in the 70th, felt more like luck than training. There’s a large boy from 8, not quite as big as he is, but still significantly larger than Clove. Most tributes are significantly bigger than Clove, but rarely is size a factor against her. After all, she had trained against him for their entire teenage life. A knife doesn’t care how big you are, she’d always taunt when she got him down.

Cato runs his hand on the back of his neck, the other hand on the back of the couch as he watches the parade wrap up, eyes locked on a certain dark haired girl. The angle for District 2 seemed to be inspired by ancient empires, again. Last year it was heavy gold plates, he can remember the stylist calling it gladiator or something along those lines. This year though, they clearly went a different route, one he can actually place on his own.

Clove, at least, is in a shimmery golden fabric that looks nearly liquid as it clings to her. The fabric gathers over her left shoulder, and falls all the way to the ground. There’s a golden band around her waist, made to resemble the laurel wreath that eventually becomes the crown of the victor. A thin gold band wraps around her upper right arm, and when Cato looks close enough he can tell it almost resembles a snake of sorts, crawling up her skin.

They left her hair free flowing down her back, though it is not the typical askew waves and occasional curls no, the length of her hair was meticulously styled to all lay exactly the same way across her back. Most striking though, is the way a piece of bright golden metal, or maybe ribbon, is laced around the crown of her head. It’s bold on the behalf of District 2 stylist, to so clearly emulate the look of a Victor’s crown around her head. Good. Let her competitors see how she’ll shine once they’ve all been sent home in their unmarked pine boxes.

It’s clear that this year they modeled them after the imagery of those ancient Greek and Roman Gods.

With the way her eyes shine from beneath long eyelashes, and the knowing, coy smirk on her tinted lips, Cato believes she looks all the bit the goddess she is meant to symbolize. And, while he can’t remember the exact school lesson that talked about the names of those ancient gods of victory or war, he is sure that it certainly should have been Clove.

As much as it pains him, he obeys Enobaria’s direct orders.

He does not go near her, does not follow her into her room under the cover of night, knowing full well he would never forgive himself if he did distract her. Clove would call him stupid to even suggest that she could be distracted by him, as if they haven’t been playing this game together for over three years.

He goes to his own interview with Caesar, and brags how he is sure that District 2 will be bringing home the win for the second year in a row. If anyone notices that he slips and says that she is the best tribute he’s ever seen, noone comments. A compliment like that from a victor is worth its weight in gold, be it ‘unintentional’ or not.

When her odds jump from 7-1 to 5-1 the next morning, Cato is not reprimanded for his ‘accidental’ slip.

Score release goes as well as expected.

The five of them sit in the circular couch pod in front of the screen, the gaggle of styling teams and the D2 escort babble amongst themselves, trading plans for the final interviews tomorrow.

Clove sits close enough to Cato that with her legs crossed under her, and his legs splayed, their knees faintly brush each other. It’s innocuous to the majority, and even Enobaria bites her tongue when she notices. It’s harmless enough. The scores start and Cato finds the knee touching hers is bouncing, and he is shocked to realize the nervous habit is stemming from himself.

“Let's see if you’re as good as you think.” Cato teases her, leaning back with his arms stretched over the back of the couch on both sides. If one so happens to be behind her shoulders, so be it. “You’re looking at a perfect 10 from me, of course. I’m sure you remember.”

“Scores go up to 12. Far from Perfect.” Clove leans back, brushing against his arm, testing the proverbial waters of just how far they could push.

“Noone scores higher than a 10, it’s a formality to make 11 and 12 feel like relevant districts. I was also a perfect score.” Brutus reminds, giving Cato a knowing nod. He did score perfect, as far as an actual grading scale would go. “Enobaria you were a 10, too, weren’t you?”

She nods, and takes one of the tall stemmed glasses from one of the passing Avoxes. The purple liquid within is unidentified, but clearly Enobaria reaches for something that will calm whatever nerves she may be feeling. Cato can understand. It’s oddly stressful, waiting for the scores of the person you are rooting for. It's almost worse than waiting for his own.“Most Victors from two have had a ten. I can only think of one person who’s ever scored a ten and didn’t win. At least from two.”

The escort, Cato thinks her name is Elena, quiets them. “Shh, it’s starting, it’s starting!”

Caesar’s theme blares through the room as the host introduces himself yet again, as if all of Panem does not know his name. He gives the typical explanation. Three days of evaluation, score 1-12, and so on and so forth.

District one is first. Both the male and female tribute receive nines, strong starts for the career alliance. Clove reminds them that they both chose spears, something that will put them in competition with each other for tools.

The boy is next. When his face flashes across the screen, Caesar announces yet another nine.

“A solid score.” Brutus remarks, though the previous conversation of the value of tens still hangs in the air.

“Also from District 2. Clove.” Cato can feel the way his jaw clenches, and Clove’s whole body tenses as they both lean forward in anticipation. Enobaira has the drink to her lips, bracing for the score. Not that anyone doubts Clove, but the pressure is still mounting.

“With a score of…Ten.”

Clove’s body relaxes and a beaming smile graces her face for the briefest few seconds before it falls into a smirk. The way that smile grabbed at his heart and yanked it towards her is something Cato can think about later.

“What was that about Victors with tens?” She asks in a voice that is feigning sweetness, though drips with venom. She’s out for blood, now.

“Welcome to the Tens Club, kid. You’ve earned it.” Brutus grabs her shoulder, to give it a firm but proud shake.

Enobaria finishes her drink in a quick tilt of her head. The stress is lifted. Clove has more than proved herself a fierce competitor, despite her physical size and overall feminine appearance.

The look she gives Cato, communicating with nothing more than her eyes, is a clear message. Go for it, brag about her to the world. Enboria stands, and walks around the back of the couch, pausing to lean between the two of them and whisper. “That's our girl.”

The rest of the scores pass without anything of note. The big kid from eight gets an eight, but no one other than him and the career pack score above a six. If Clove relaxes when she leans back, just enough that her arm brushes against his and rests there, well she’s just letting herself relax after a high stress week.

“High score of the year.” Enobaria announces the moment the presentation ends, and she actually bears those razor blade teeth in a frightening smile. “Good work.”

“She’s the best.” Cato agrees, and when he looks down at her over his shoulder, he cannot contain his smile.

The next and final night is the interview. Enobaria and Brutus have already made their way down with whats-his-name, leaving him alone to wait for Clove’s team to release her. Cato slides his hands into the pockets of his navy blue blazer, leaning against the wall that holds the elevator. He crosses his left foot over his right, and leans back, chuckling to himself as he hears Clove openly voicing her distaste over some detail he cannot discern.

“I really need to get going–” Which is Clove’s kind way of saying ‘it’s in your best interest to let me leave.’

He hears them trying to fight her as she steps away, clearly wearing some sort of heel by the way he can hear the clicking of her light footsteps across the marble tiled floor.

Her steps came to a halt right as she began to crest the connecting threshold from her room to the rest of the suite.

“I don’t want to hear a single word from you.” Clove warns as she crosses into the living space, hands firmly on her hips as she makes her way towards him in long, sure strides.

Cato can’t help it though, when the second he sees her he tilts his head back and gives half of a laugh. He shakes his head as she quickly crosses the distance between them, and he takes a single step forward that nearly closes the distance entirely. At the last minute, though, he heeds Enobaria’s warning.

That doesn’t stop him from reaching out a hand to run the horrific orange fabric at her waist through his fingers.

“You look like a little marigold.”

“Shut your mouth.” Clove snaps, though she glances down at herself. The orange ruffles at the top of her dress do slightly resemble flower petals, the more that she thinks about it. Sure, the orange satin at her waist is flattering, but the layers of tulle that fall all the way to her feet are doing nothing to make her look intimidating or fierce or any of the other attributes she wanted to express. “I look like a child playing dress up.”

Cato wisely chooses not to comment as he reaches out to touch the various twists and floofs in her hair, shaking his head as he tries to understand what girl they are trying to portray in front of him. “They’re going for unhinged, maybe?”

She smacks his hand out of her hair at that comment, crossing her arms over her chest in a way that yeah, maybe looks a little insecure. Despite the dress covering her feet, she felt so incredibly exposed in this strapless piece.

“Not funny, Cato. They’re going to make me look stupid like this.”

His hand finds her chin, stylists be damned, and he tilts her chin up to look at him. He wants to comment on how the color at the very least makes her eyes look particularly green, but there’s something different about her face that he can’t quite place. Cato narrows his eyes when his thumb runs along her cheekbone, and there must be a look of distaste on his face for Clove to react to.

“What are you looking at- hey!” Clove leans her neck back, knitting her eyebrows together as she scowls at her…her Cato. “They’ll come after me with makeup brushes to fix whatever you’re fucking up, and I don’t want to be disqualified when I kill my stylist team”

He lifts his thumb, and notices both the pale powder on his finger, but also the patch of freckles he’s revealed underneath. “They covered your freckles…then painted more on?” There’s evident disgust in his tone, as he wipes the offensive makeup on the side of his leg.

“Guess they prefer to place them individually, I don’t know.” Clove shrugs, but squints her eyes as he places his hands on either side of her face and wipes the concealer and offending faux-freckles off.

“Fuck that, fuck them.” Cato mumbles, smiling at his handiwork when he realizes he can see the galaxy of freckles on her cheeks once again. “You don’t need all that. You are so, unbelievably–” He’s caught off guard when blue eyes catch green, and it takes the entirety of his resolve not to lean down and catch her lips in his, especially with the way she tilted her head into one of his hands, leaving a long, open expanse of her neck that practically begs him to claim it.

If she rises on her toes to close the space between their lips herself– already shortened by the multiple inches her shoes added to her height– well, who can blame her. It very well could be her last night on Earth, why deprive herself now?

It’s Cato who hesitates though, still cradling her face in his hands he straightens his back and pulls back before they can slip too far into each other. His hands drop from her face in defeat. One free hand now rubs over his jaw as the other slams the down button on the elevator. “After.”

Clove nods in a silent agreement, and they ride side by side down the elevator, arms close enough that they may as well have wrapped them around each other.

As usual District One goes first, playing up glamor or something superficial to an audience who eats it right up. Enobaria is Flanked by Brutus and Cato, standing off stage across from where the Clove will enter in the coming moments.

She is standing in the wings, dress gathered in her hands so she does not trip and make herself look uncoordinated and risk losing sponsors. Clove catches the eyes of the three of them as Caesar begins introducing District Two, specifically being drawn into the approving nod Enobaria gives her as she is called to the stage.

The light is too blinding for Clove to see how Enobaria grabs Cato’s upper arm, giving a firm and reassuring squeeze. They’d been waiting for this.

It feels like a blur, the deafening way Capitol citizens cheer for her. She’s the favorite, evident by the way they go absolutely wild when she flashes them a confident white smile.

Caesar is settling the crowd down as he and Clove sit across from each other. Over the host’s shoulder Clove can see the three of them still watching her with more pride than she’s ever felt directed to her.

He starts his interview by commenting on her knife skills, which she uses as a chance to brilliantly remind him that she is the best.

The audience thrives on her wit, once again rising into deafening cheers when she reminds- not threatens, reminds– Caesar Flickerman that she could kill him from across the stage.

“Now. I hear that you have a birthday coming, is that true?” He leans forward, quirking a blue tinted eyebrow at her.

“Yes Caesar, I’ll be eighteen this week.” She responds in a sweet voice, looking over her shoulder and out towards the audience. “I’m planning to give myself the win as a gift to myself,” she informs them with a coy little grin.

“The confidence! I love it!” He vamps. “I think that would be quite a gift to us all, wouldn’t it?” Caesar, for what it's worth, can certainly work up a crowd. “You had the highest score of the year, no doubt a result of hardwork and practice. I’ve been told that you were the long term training companion to our victor last year, is that true?”

For the briefest minute she catches Cato’s eyes in the wings, and for a moment and only a moment the way she lights up is for him alone.

“It’s true. Between you and I though, he’s lucky he competed last year and not against me.” She pretends as if she shares this secret with the host and the host alone. The audience oohs in response, as if she just shared the hottest gossip in the country.

“Clove, are such a firecracker in such a little package! I love it!”

“You know Caesar, it doesn’t matter how much bigger someone may be. A knife hits them all the same way. And I never miss.”

“Oh I am going to miss this girl!!” The audience cheers in agreement.

“I’ll be back in a few days.”

He ramps the audience up one last time as he holds her hand up in the air. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Clove!”

Clove exits the stage towards Enobaria, Brutus, and Cato, smiling until the moment she is in the wings.

“You killed it.” Enobaria approves, though Clove keeps walking past her, grabbing Cato by the arm as she does.

“I know.”

She continues walking, now tugging Cato by the sleeve for just a couple of seconds until she is sure he is following her.

Clove is not waiting for the other tribute to take the stage, she doesn’t have a fuck to give about any other district either.

When they are out of vision of the others, though she knows the eyes of the Capitol never sleep, it is her fist that slams on the up button of the elevator, it is her who pulls him in by the middle of his button down shirt, and it is her who pulls him to her against the metal wall of the elevator.

He doesn’t resist her this time, they’ve made it to the end of the week. She’s made her name for herself, she’s made herself the favorite. Who is he to deny her– or himself– this.

Cato leans down to meet her half way, hands finding the small of her back and pulling her flush against him. One of Clove’s hands has already begun unbuttoning his shirt, nimble fingers snaking around to latch her nails into the skin of his back.

He’s lifted her up within seconds, her legs wrapping around his hips just as they have a million times. Cato walks them backwards off the elevator when they reach the second floor but as soon as they are inside, he sets her down.

Breathless, his fingers run from her hips to the bubbled segments of her hair “Take this out,”

“Are you fucking serious right now, that’s your priority? Is it this fucking distracting that you would rather that I fix my hair than suck your-”

“Just do it, Clove. Meet me in my room”

Clove storms past him to the nearest bathroom, and instead of painstakingly untwisting each tie, she raises the nearest knife she can find and slices the rubber bands right open. Her hair falls free in loose waves, unbound and covering her bare shoulders. She sees her reflection in the mirror, and takes a few moments to wipe the remnants of makeup under her eyes, the majority of which having been removed by Cato hours ago. Clove kicks off her shoes, before wasting no time in crossing back across the apartment to the room she had been all but formally barred from this week.

“Cato, what are you–”

He’s discarded his jacket, left standing in that nearly entirely unbuttoned black button down shirt and the shining navy pants that matched the jacket. He’s pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, and while she’s always a sucker for those arms, that's not what catches her attention.

Cato steps closer, his golden Victor’s crown in his hands. “I had to bring it for my interviews while you’re in the arena.” He pulls her in by the waist, tilting her chin back up so he can meet the most brilliant jade eyes he’s ever seen.

“I’m going to be the first person to see you crowned.” Cato whispers as he places the golden circle around her hair, his breath caught in his chest the way the gold stands out against her dark hair and pale face. He twists her in his arms so she can see her own reflection, to see herself as the winner she is about to become. It’s a gift, really, to see her crowned in her natural glory before the Capitol will have the chance to paint over her freckles again, or color her lips some dark ruby shade at her own crowning.

This is Clove, in her very own skin, as the victor she was born to be.

His arm holds her across the front of her shoulders, possessive. She’s going to be a victor in her own right, but she is his.

They both look at the reflection of the two of them for a moment, wordless. Her hands hold onto the arm he has across her chest, and she tilts her head as she takes them in. They looked absolutely lethal. Yet, it was as if they were meant to be standing together, the sharp contrast of their appearances making them all the more alluring. It feels like she should be standing directly beside him, in his arms, for the rest of their lives.

Hell, maybe this really was what was left of hers if the odds were not in her favor tomorrow morning.

She twists in his arms, raising her eyebrows in a way that is demanding him to come and get her. He’s a step ahead of her, hands already on the back of her dress, no time wasted as practiced hands finds the zipper.

Clove pushes him backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed, straddling his hips with her own. “I’m keeping it on.” She murmurs, referencing his crown, before leaning in and claiming his lips for herself.

Neither sleep that night, and neither say much either.

Cato stares at the ceiling, drawing circles languidly on the skin over her spine for what seems like hours. Clove faces the window from her place at his side, her cheek using his bare chest as a pillow.

There is too much that needs to be said, and far too little time to do the words the justice they deserve.

“Clove?” Cato whispers as the sun begins to crest the Earth in the horizon, pulling her closer on sheer instinct. Their time is coming to an end all too fast, and Cato would give anything to hold her for another forty years instead of another forty minutes. “Remember when you came to see me, before I left?’

She nods just enough that he can perceive the motion against his chest, his other arm coming to wrap about her torso so that he holds her completely. “I told you that you better fucking come home.”

“And that you’d see me soon.” Cato murmurs into the top of her head, unwrapping one arm briefly to reach into the nightstand just on the other side of the bed. “More importantly though, you gave me this. I think it’s time I return it to you.”

Cato pulls out that silver C, now rethreaded to a much smaller, shorter chain. He clips it around her bare neck, before his hands settle back on the small of her back, rhythmically tapping his thumb in a manner that is meant to calm one of them. He isn’t sure who.

Clove swallows hard, trying her hardest to quell any emotion that dare try to appear right now. This was not the time to go soft. “You’ll see me soon.” She promises, though she cannot dare look up at him and see even a second of fear. In truth, she isn’t sure that it won’t break her resolve and her heart both if she notices doubt in his eyes.

The following silence chokes them, the sun coming up all too fast and burning her eyes. She looks up towards him to avoid the rays of the sunrise, and when he looks down at her the way her heart absolutely pounds in her chest nearly makes her doubt coming to the games at all.

Their time is ending, and it is ending fast.

“Clove..” he starts, trying to build up the nerve to say what he needs to. “Before you go, i have to tell you–”

“No.” Clove stops him, propping herself up on her forearms on his chest. She holds his face with both her hands, forcing him to lock eyes with her. “You can’t do this right now. When I come back… there is nothing stopping us, then.”

“You need to hear it Clove, I need you to know that–”

“I do. But I don’t want to hear you say it just because you think I’m not coming back.” She’s insistent on it, and she stops his argument with a kiss that is borderline gentle coming from her. Clove leans her forehead against his, now hovering over him completely. “We’re going to be all anyone talks about for years, after this. You and I…”

A rapid knock on the door tells them that Enobaria has already noticed she is not in the bed she’s supposed to be in. The knock is a courtesy, one she surely won’t be repeating.

Clove buries her face in the space between his shoulder and his neck, as he holds her tighter for what feels like the last time. She has to be the one to push away and out of the bed, grabbing one of his spare shirts and throwing it on. Not like she could wear her dress from last night out there.

“Clove?” Cato sits up, watching as she grabs for the door handle.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t die.”

She shoots him that brilliant smile, the one he has chased for the last three years at least, before shooting him a knowing smirk.

“Wasn’t planning on it, baby.”

When Clove slips out the door, Cato can’t help but feel like he just watched the rest of his life slip between his fingers.

He isn’t allowed to go to the final send off with her. That is between her and Enobaria, but the send off they had last night well..that’ll be enough until her win.

Cato is alone in the apartment, taking the entire couch up on his lonesome. As the Capitol seal flashes on the TV, and the sixty second countdown begins, he leans his head forward. His knees catch his elbows, and he has to physically hold his head up with his hands. He wonders silently if last year she felt as sick as he does right now. It’s somehow worse, thinking of her in that arena, than when he had actually competed himself.

He sees her instantly. The favorite always gets camera priority, making sure they have plenty of footage for the eventual recap during their post-games interview.

Cato processes the terrain in the same second she does, evident by the wild look in her eyes while he realizes it is entirely white behind her.

A blizzard. The arena is a blizzard.

The look in her eyes when the countdown ends is unlike anything he has seen even in her most intense moments of training.

She is confident. She is bloodthirsty. She is absolutely feral.

As she takes off towards the cornucopia there is not a single soul watching that can deny that this is the moment she was born for.

#the hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #cato #clove #enobaria #cato and clove #clato #clato fanfic #thg cato #thg clove #brutus #THG fanfic #ARWBFB TAG

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dr0wning-in-hell · 3 years

Text

Wonder - Peter Parker

Summary : During a heated make-out session while studying Peter gains the confidence to move things forward with his girlfriend Y/N, relating in some steamy sex.

Word Count :1.8k+

Warnings : SMUT!! Making out, fingering, oral(f), cursing, sexy times all around my friends, dirty talk, literally porn with no plot

Pairing : Peter Parker x reader

Prompt : “91 and 100 with peter please!” - anonymous |91. “Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you would taste like..” |100. “You’re so beautiful all spread out like this, just for me.”

A/N : Y’all I’m really trying to post more I promise, I just haven’t felt like myself so I have like no motivation for anything. I’m super sorry. But please enjoy this post!!

New masterlist | prompt list | color prompts

Peter and Y/N had stopped studying about 15 minutes ago, and now all their school work was on the ground and Peter was holding Y/N in his lap as their lips were tangled together. Absentmindedly, Y/N started grinding down onto Peter’s crotch, resulting in a low groan to escape his mouth.

“Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you would taste like...” Peter mumbled against his girlfriends’ lips. She pulled back and looked at him, wondering if he was really serious.

“Are- are sure? Are you being serious?” Peter nodded, his hands still holding Y/N close to his body.

“I know I’ve been hesitant to uhm- do it, but I love you so much and I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I’m ready. I’m ready to do this with you,” Peter watched as Y/N smiled widely before nodding and kissing her boyfriend. He smiled back against her lips before starting to lay her down on the bed. Their hands roamed each others bodies as the air in the room grew thick with the smell of lust and sex. The two teens grew needier, tearing the others’ clothes off to leave scratch marks and hickies along their newly exposed skin.

Peter stared down at his girlfriends’ body which made her a little subconscious as she was thinking that he he didn’t like what he was looking at. “So fucking perfect,” He said lowly, “And all mine,” His hands went to grab at her covered chest, quickly disregarding the material and letting his hands hold the soft flesh. Y/N stifled a groan as he massaged her breast and pinched at her nipples. He could tell what he was doing to her and in one swift motion he lowered his lips to her hard nipples and sucked on them hard enough to leave hickies.

Y/N couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips after that, the new sensation of his lips around her, the soft biting, it felt so new and so good. After leaving two extremely large purple bruises on her chest he moved down and continued to litter the marks down her body. When he reached the area where he knew she need him the most he took his time in teasing her.

Peter ran his fingers along her clothed clit, applying just a little bit of pressure. He watched as Y/N squirmed under him, her legs tensing at the new feeling.

“No teasing,” She groaned. “Please, I just need you.”

“Is someone a little needy? Hm? Does someone need to be taken care of?” Peter whispered as he lowered his head closer to her heat. He watched Y/N nod her head, her pupils blown wide as she waited in anticipation to see what he was about to do. Slowly pulling down her panties he discarded them and stared at the sight in front of him. He felt his pants tighten even more causing him to rut his hips against the mattress. This was something new for the both of them and even though they hadn’t gone that far yet they could both tell they weren’t going to last long.

Peter licked his lips before laying his tongue against Y/N’s slit, spreading her folds as he tasted her for the first time. Y/N’s body lurched forward, a loud moan falling from her lips at the sensation. Peter grinned and continue to lick at her cunt, sucking both folds every once in a while and then releasing them with a load ‘pop’.

“You taste like heaven,” Peter groaned as he continued to lap at her folds and feel her aerosol fall onto his lips. “You’re so beautiful all spread out like this, just for me,” he mumbled against her lips. After feeling arounds for a few more seconds he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked it into his mouth.

Y/N’s mouth fell open, a silent moan failing to escape her throat as it got caught. “F-fuck, Peter. Feels so good, fuck- pl-please I need more,” She begged, her hands going to push themselves into his brown locks and pull even closer. The chuckle that fell from Peter’s lips vibrated against her skin, causing the hairs on her body to raise. Peter pulled his mouth away just enough to start pushing one, then two fingers into his girlfriend’s leaking hole. He watched in amusement and lust as her tight hole seemed to swallow his fingers, just begging for more. Peter curled his fingers, hitting the soft, spongey spot inside her. Based upon her reaction of her back arching and a squeal erupting from her, it was no doubt that he just found the perfect spot inside her.

“Does that feel good, angel? Do you like my fingers spreading you open?” Peter taunted as he sped of his fingers. Y/N could only nod as the feeling was too much and she could barely remember to breathe. The boy’s eyes watched her body twitch and spasm, her legs closing tightly around his fingers as a sign she was about to cum. His head fell back in between her legs, his tongue finding and available space against her cunt as she came without warning. Her juices leaked onto his hand as he slowly moved his fingers from her core, licking them clean and then going back into her core to taste her even more.

Y/N watched as he tasted her, his pupils blown to cover his entire iris. It was a sinful sight, one only she got to witness. When Peter was done with his mouth he pulled his lips up and along her body, leaving wet and sloppy kisses all across her body until he reached her lips. He captured her mouth within hers, both of them moaning against each other as she tasted herself against his lips and he let her take control of the kiss.

After a few moments he pulled away so he could take off the remainders of his clothes and grab a condom. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? We don’t have to do anything else.” Peter asked as he stopped himself from pulling down his boxers.

“I want this, please, I want to feel you inside me.” Y/N begged, her mouth watering at the thought of what his cock might look like. She watched with sharp eyes as he pulled the last bit of material from his body and his aching cock finally sprung free from it’s prison. Peter let out a deep groan as his hand just barely touched himself. Without wasting any more time he ripped the foil package open and slowly rolled it onto his shaft with a hiss. Peter climbed back over Y/N’s body that was now covered in a thin layer of sweat and Peter’s drying kisses.

“I love you so much,” Peter mumbled as he pressed a long and slow kiss to her lips.

Y/N grinned, “I love you more, but if you don’t put your cock in me I’m doing it myself.” Her comment made Peter laugh, but he nodded as he sat on his knees and pulled Y/N’s hips up to wrap her legs around his waist. He teased her hole at first just to annoy her, but then finally began to push into her tiny entrance. Y/N gasped, her hands going to grip his biceps as he pushed in till he was balls deep in her. They were both panting heavily, their breathes fanning against the other’s skin as they waited a moment.

The nod Y/N gave Peter to start moving was all the conformation he need to start. His hips moved slow at first, going all the way into her hot heat before pulling out and continuing his movements. The sounds Y/N let out were uncontrollable but they only urged Peter to go on. After finding a steady rhythm he began to move faster, his hips becoming flush against his girlfriends’ as he tried to get as close as he could to her.

“You feel so good around me, angel. Fuck, just swallowing me up. Such a greedy whore.” Peter grunted as he pounded into her core.

This new side of Peter was completely different from the shy kid who would barely kiss her in public, and it made her heart speed up. “So big,” Y/N whimpered, her eyes glancing down to look at where their bodies connected. “Can’t believe we waited so long. Don’t think I ever want this to end.”

Peter’s hips stuttered a bit but as he moved to bend her legs to her chest, getting a deeper angle. He hit the special spot inside her, causing her Y/E/C eyes to roll to the back of her head, letting out the most pornographic sound either of them have ever heard. His face was right above hers. his lips ghosting hers and giving her just enough of a taste that it left her wanting more.

Peter fucked into her cunt harshly, chasing both of their releases. Y/N whined loudly, her hands going to reach for Peter’s as she pulled him against her. “ ‘M gonna cum, fuck- want you to cum.” Peter nodded and pressed his lips to her, trying to maintain his speed.

“I’m right there, fuck, cum for me angel. Want to feel you milk everything out of me.” That was all she need to hear as she clenched hard onto his cock, her back arching and body spasming as she came from her high. Peter came right after, his hips stilling inside her as he released his load into the condom. He could feel her tighten around him just a little bit more as they finished their highs, both panting in exhaustion.

Once Peter caught his breathe he pulled out slowly and watched his girlfriend’s slick slide down her thighs. After discarding the condom he went to the bathroom to get a warm cloth and clean her up. Y/N whimpered at the contact and tried to pull away but Peter gave her a scolding look as he cleaned her up.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” Y/N yawned and snuggled up to her boyfriend while he crawled under the covers.

He chuckled a bit and wrapped his arms around her, “That’s alright, I’ll carry you everywhere.” She grinned, her eyes falling slowly until they were closed and she was asleep, Peter soon following her.

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

Text

a helping hand [henry cavill] - part 2

A/n: I’m sorry it took me so long. I don’t like how this part turned out, at all, but I rewrote it 3 times and I can’t even think about these scenes anymore without getting annoyed. I’m just happy it’s finished and that I can start working on part 3 (that is, if you like this one enough to want to keep reading lol)

Summary: After you post on onlyfans a video starring another man, Henry decides to take matters into his own hands. (cameo: Steve Rogers) KINKY 4k

Warnings: spanking, daddy kink, dirty talk, mentions of smut and masturbation (male), humiliation/degradation kink, groping, mentions of porn and filming pornographic material, stalker-ish/obsessed Henry. (also tumblr crashed when I first tried to upload this so maybe that a sign this sucks)

You can read part 1 here!

The sight brought down a storm upon Henry's mind. He stood there, mouth agape, watching the screen, unable to believe his eyes. It was one thing to post videos of yourself on the Internet, but to have someone else take part in them was too much. At least for Henry. Still smart and composed, he realised there wasn't anything he could do about it, but nevertheless, he was determined to not let this shit slide for much longer.

As much as he wanted to hunt down that man who dared put his hands on you, Henry gathered himself, took a deep breath and closed the onlyfans page. He was perfectly aware that just the right amount of you could get him to lose his sense of control and do things he'd later regret. Still, in desperate need to see you, he grabbed his phone, eyes scheming over your socials, only to see that the last time you had been active was 7 minutes ago. So, without much consideration, he started typing.

"You up?"

"Yep. Finishing up an essay. Coffee in 30??"

Oh, and how deeply that hurt him. "Of course" he sent you, and then checked again the post you made at 3am. '...I'll go to sleep right now, edit it for you when I wake up...'

You were lying? Why were you lying to him? It drove him insane. Henry felt like he couldn't sit down anymore, like he had no chance to catch his breath. He couldn't think straight, so he wasn't really to blame for what he did next.

Henry's fingers flew over the keyboard, accessing Facebook and logging into your account, desperate to see whether he could find out who the man in your video was. And it was as easy as it could've been, considering your last 5 conversations were with the girl friends he already knew about. But somewhere among them, he spotted an unfamiliar name - Steve R., and instantly clicked and opened the conversation. His blood started to boil when the multitude of emojis you sent reached his eyes, but he scrolled up, until he found the beginning of yesterday's conversation.

It was started by you, and with a request. You were blunt and went straight for it, asking him with just one message to be in the video with you. There was no trace of your relationship with him on the Internet, so Henry had no idea regarding the nature of yours and Steve's connection. Judging by the way you addressed him, he could easily assume the man was nothing more than a fuck buddy. Even though it angered him, Henry kept his calm and decided to go about this with care. It would only be a matter of time until he removed Steve from your life. But for now, he just had to keep digging for information.

Steve R.: "Exactly what do you need me to do, baby? Spank you? In front of the camera? Are you serious?"

"Yes, Steve. Come on!! I know we haven't seen each other in a while, but still... 😇 when it comes to these things, you know me better than anyone"

Henry scoffed. Who the fuck was this guy?

Steve R.: "I know, baby"

Steve R.: "What's in it for me?"

Smoke came out of Henry's ears, and the fact that you acted so sweet and innocent made him want to smash his keyboard.

"Whatever you want! Just do this for me!!! Please!!!! 🥺😊😋"

Steve R.: "Ofc I'll do it, sweetheart. I got you"

"Thank you thank you thank you 😘"

Steve R.: "I should be the one to thank you"

Steve R.: "Send me the location and I'll be over there asap"

After that, your address followed and then that was it. Determined to dig deeper, Henry started to scroll up again, wanting to find out as much as he could about this mysterious man. He didn't get a chance to lurk too much before this computer alerted him of a notification, the onlyfans tab glowing orange. His attention was instantly won, smiling devilishly as he checked the content.

Posted 30 seconds ago, was the new video. Ready to kick back and enjoy, Henry pressed the play button, ready to go at it with an open mind.

He reluctantly accepted the fact that there was another man in it with you, but he decided to enjoy it nevertheless. The video started, displaying Steve seated on the couch, thighs suggestively parted. He had a pair of black dress pants on, dangerously stretched over his massive thighs. A white, elegant shirt hugged his visibly sculpted torso, the top two buttons undone to show just a hint of chest hair. Quite a sight, but all Henry saw was trash. With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a silver watch on his wrist and a pinky ring on, Steve patted his thigh, cueing your entrance.

When Henry saw you, he felt his breath reach a new, sudden level of difficulty. With the shortest of skirts barely managing to cover your ass and a mostly see-through shirt on your top half, you made your way to him in such an angelic way that Henry couldn't believe his eyes.

You looked like happiness personified, and it came in such a painful contraction to what you were about to do, that it twisted Henry's mind in such a perverse way, his cock nearly twitched just by seeing you.

When you were about to bend over Steve's thigh, he grabbed your chin and stopped you mid action, his lips slamming against your as his free hand lewdly caressed your ass. He flung the skirt over your hips, your flimsy underwear on full display.

Attentive to the events unfolding on the screen, Henry found his cock, teasingly rubbing it over the material of his pajama pants. His mouth watered when he felt the sensibility in his tip, actually believing this would be easier than he initially anticipated.

"Are you going to be Daddy's good little girl, or do I have to make this fucking hurt?" Steve asked and Henry almost threw up.

"Yes, Daddy. I'll be good" you mewled, wiggling your feet.

"Let's see" the man menacingly chuckled, releasing a sharp slap against your ass that made you yelp out in pain.

At this point, about 30 seconds in that was, Henry was already losing his mind. It was as if you took a trip inside his dreams and decided to play out his fantasies. The only problem was that you did it with another man. It was next to impossible for him to keep this going.

"Can you count?" Steve taunted, his hand traveling all over the back of your thighs, your exposed ass and between your legs.

"Yes, Daddy" you eagerly nodded and Henry almost threw up.

"I wouldn't be surprised if a dumb slut like you didn't know how to" Steve chuckled, "But it's ok, that's how we like our girls. Dumb and pretty"

"Thank you, Daddy"

Henry couldn't believe his eyes. He refused to accept the fact that a random man got to play with your innocence like that. You were his sweet little girl. And if until now he pushed through heroically, when literal yelps of pain started erupting from your lips as the blonde man slapped your ass hard enough to rock your whole frame, Henry's blood ran cold.

But no matter how hard the jealousy had hit him, the video was still pushing his limits of self control. It was still what he always wanted to see. When he reached inside his pants and grabbed his cock, a low grunt of early satisfaction left his lips. He once again found himself picturing you, willing to please him, but this time, he didn't get to go too far. The buzzing sound of his doorbell rang through his apartment, and he never stood up faster.

Cock still hard and completely visible through his pants, Henry slapped the pause button and minimized the browser, before springing to his feet and rushing to the door.

"Henry!" you exclaimed as soon as he came into view. He looked somehow tired, but it was easy to tell there was something else bothering him. "You didn't answer your phone" you pouted.

"Yeah, sorry" he shook his head, a few sweaty curls falling against his forehead. "I was busy with something. What's up?"

You raised your eyebrows and pointed to the door of your apartment, "You said you'd come over? Coffee? Remember?"

"Oh, shit, yeah" Henry cringed, rubbing his forehead. "I'll be over in 10 minutes, that ok?"

"Sure" you beamed, completely oblivious to the way he just tried to get rid of you. With utter nonchalance, you pushed your way past him and strolled into the kitchen.

"You wanna wait here?" he muttered.

"Yeah... Is that a problem? I can leave..."

"No, no" Henry eventually sighed and rushed over to you. He cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead. "Wait here, I'll be right back"

And that was what you did. You silently sat down, grabbing a bag of chips you found laying around, and settled to wait. And maybe, a few seconds passed where nothing devious came to mind, but as time ticket itself away, boredom got to you. First you stood up, and padded to the hallway, looking around. There was almost nothing new over there, but it still felt so homey you absolutely loved to inspect every detail. The TV in the living room was turned off, a couple of pizza boxes on the floor and his DVD cases laying around - absolutely nothing interesting.

You sighed and plopped down on his couch, folding your legs under your body, ready to flip through the channels on TV until he'd decide to join you. Nothing seemed of interest, being bombarded with news and fishing programs. "Old man" you thought to yourself, before opening up the menu in search for something less depressing. A wave of nostalgia hit you when you came across a Spiderman marathon, and you were done for. Maybe one full episode passed until Henry walked out of the bathroom, but you were nowhere near ready to leave.

"Look what's playing!" you beamed, pointing to the screen. Henry raised his eyebrows in amusement, his shoulders shaking as he softly laughed at your unusual choice of entertainment.

"Are you serious? Cartoons?"

"Yes!" you scoffed, extending your arms and gesturing for him to join you. Although reluctant at first, Henry agreed to sit and watch the show with you, but not before brewing some coffee first.

When he returned from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in tow, you shuffled to the side and welcomed him on the couch. He brought you close against him, draping his arm around your body. With your head resting on his shoulder, you sipped your coffee, eyes glued to the TV. "You seriously never watched these as teen? You were 11 when it came out."

"I did" Henry laughed, rubbing his hand up and down your side, "I was in love with Felicia Hardy"

"MJ was so much better!" you shook your head disappointed, "You have no taste"

"No need for that" Henry threatened, his fingers exploring their way down your body. The way he trailed his hand across your hips and thighs made you squirm, smiling to yourself as you shuffled closer to him.

Henry was more than happy to reciprocate, kissing your forehead and squeezing you tighter.

And just like that, you didn't care about Spiderman anymore. You flung your leg over Henry's lap, all but crawling on top of him. The episode was still playing in the background, but none of you was paying attention anymore. Henry wrapped his muscular arms around your frame, eliciting a soft moan from your lips as you pushed your hips down against his thigh. His hands traveled lower, exploring your body with delicate but greedy strokes.

As you let yourself get carried away with absolutely no worry in mind, Henry knew exactly what he was doing. And considering how easily you let your guard down, he had you right where he wanted.

When you hid your face in the crook of his neck, your nose rubbing across the slope of his collarbone, Henry's right hand found your ass. You froze for a second, but his gentle caress helped you relax again in an instant. With his lips against the top of your head, he allowed his fingers to sink into your flesh. Your whole frame stiffened as you gathered a handful of his hoodie into your fist.

"What's wrong?" Henry cooed, grabbing your chin, "You ok?"

"Yep" you whimpered, and then winced again as he squeezed your ass once more. "I'm good-" you lied, cupping the side of his neck into your palm as you crawled higher up his body, your lips right against his ear.

As weak as he was for you, Henry stood his ground. If you wanted to play this game, he'd do it, but he wouldn't let you win.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, roughly groping your ass.

Jumping slightly from the pain, you still managed to shake your head, blurting out another lie. "... no"

"What about this?" Henry teased, grinning widely as he shoved his hands inside your leggings, under your panties.

The urgency of his touch made your eyes open wide, your back arching as you tried to push yourself off of him.

"Does it hurt, darling?" he continued, keeping you in place with ease.

Defeated, you sighed and lowered your gaze, "A bit" you mumbled.

"Just a bit?"

"Henry-"

"Did he fuck you good?"

Your mouth fell open. "What- no, I didn't- we didn't do anything-"

"Didn’t do anything?" Henry grinned, his perfect teeth showing as he proudly pried information out of you.

"I just... fuck-"

Seeing no way out of this one, and eager to stop hiding, you pushed yourself back. Henry's hands left your body as you sat beside him, and he watched you curiously, patiently waiting for you to word your thoughts. "I just filmed a video for my page, that's all" you bowed your head.

"What kind of video?" Henry questioned.

His demeanour was so relaxed, he was right in his element, unlike you, who were riled up to the extreme. "A spanking video-" you cleared, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

"Did he spank you good?"

His hand found your hips again, and you leaned into his touch, nodding your head yes as you were too embarrassed to actually word your answer.

"Then show me"

He was dominant and stern, and even if you wanted to, you felt like saying no wasn't an option. Henry didn't wait for your permission as he grabbed your waist and pulled you up to your knees, chuckling softly to himself when he saw you shyly smile down at him.

His fingers curled around the waistband of your leggings, forcefully pulling them down your thighs. "Come on" he urged you, softly guiding you to lay down across his lap, your ass barely covered by the pinkish and slightly unflattering underwear you had chosen for the day.

Henry's breathing picked up at the sight, and so did yours. You watched him over your shoulder, his fingers tracing over the bruises Steve left on your bum the night before.

"Henry-?" you whimpered, the anticipation building up in the pit of your stomach becoming too much to bear.

"Yes, darling?" he cooed, leaning down to the side to kiss your cheek. His stumble tickled your skin and you whimpered when his hand made its way between your legs.

You felt his fingers against your opening and involuntarily clenched your thighs around him, hiding your face in the cushions of below your head.

"Tell me" Henry pushed, teasing your folds and clit over your underwear.

"Nothing, I-" you cried, making him chuckle.

He loved giving you a taste of your own medicine. He straightened himself up and grabbed your ass into his hands, squeezing until you yelped out in pain. A soft laughter of approval escaped his throat as he bent down and pressed his lips to one of your cheeks, applying lingering kisses over each and every single bruise.

The way he took control of the situation and handled your body, turned you on to no end. For whatever reason, being exposed like that for him, waiting for any kind of judgement to leave his lips, you were getting more and more riled up by the second. You were done for. You did your best not to moan with need, but little did you know that was exactly what kept you from being thrown onto the floor and fucked into oblivion. Just one single sign was all you needed in order to break his self control, but you didn’t have it in you to do it.

But he didn’t say anything, instead just keeping you on your toes as he had his way. You were dripping through your underwear, and judging by the bulge in his pants that pushed up against your belly, you knew he was on the same page as you. But again, he didn’t allow things to go further. Everything about this moment pointed in the right direction - the teasing, the touching, you were all but whimpering in his lap, but he cut the moment short with a sharp slap against your ass before he helped you up. Henry acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened as he pulled your leggings back up, but this glare became colder when he found your eyes.

He bent down and spoke into your ear, "He could've done a better job"

Completely under his spell, you bit your lip and furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't think I would have been able to take any more"

"That's not what I said" Henry shook his head.

"Look at you being an expert" you teased, relishing in the fact that he seemed eager to keep things going.

"All I'm saying is that if you had asked someone else-" Henry laughed, stroking your cheek, "Things would have turned out much more different"

"Oh" you pouted, ready to tease him further. "Who should I have asked-"

Just when you started getting comfortable and confident enough to push things further, Henry's phone rang. "I don't have to take that" he shook his head when he heard you stopped talking.

"Just see who it is" you giggled, slapping his shoulder.

Before doing so, Henry grabbed your chin and kissed your forehead, his touch drawing you in like a magnet as you leaned into him when he pulled away. With a sigh, you eventually crawled off his lap and then your face fell with disappointment when Henry showed you the screen of his phone.

"Yeah?" he huffed after picking up, his boss being the last person he wished to talk to right now.

You watched him closely as he listened to whatever the man was saying, and almost whined out loud when Henry frowned annoyed.

"I'll call you back in 5, ok?" he asked and after a couple of seconds hung up.

"I'm so sorry-" Henry sighed, turning to you, "I gotta go take this, there's a problem with one of the radars, I need to go see if I can fix it remotely"

"Sure thing" you shook your head. "But please tell me you don't have plans tonight"

"I don't" Henry leaned towards you and again, kissed your forehead. As much as you loved the sweet gesture, it was now more than ever that you craved something else entirely.

"And please don't forget about me again" you giggled, grabbing his biceps and stopping him from leaving without a promise.

"I won't" he sighed, "I'm really sorry about that. I'll make it up to you"

"However I want?" you beamed and licked your lips.

"Absolutely" Henry smiled, sweetly embracing you before walking you to the door.

You had his word now, and you were planning on making it count. There was no way either you or Henry would act as if nothing had happened, and you couldn't wait.

Once alone and seated at his desk, Henry opened up the text editor associated with the code he wrote months ago. When his screen was flooded with errors and his chat popped up with three different messages asking for help from his colleagues, Henry all but yelled out loud in frustration. Not only did he wish to be with you, it was also Sunday, one of his days off. But he couldn't just text the pilot of the plane whose radar went berserk and tell him to wait. So he got to work, determined to get this done as soon as possible.

But unfortunately, that 'as soon as possible' turned into 3 hours of continuous work. He didn't even stand up to go to the bathroom until he made sure everything was on point. It was about 4pm when the program started running smoothly again, and seeing how he had a few more hours to waste until he had to see you, Henry decided to make the best of them, by getting a head start on his tasks for the following day.

Productivity flowed through his fingertips as he solved the first issue he had been assigned for the day to come, getting ready to start working on the second one when a call caught his attention. He didn't recognize the ring tone, and it only dawned on him that he was still logged into your facebook account a couple of seconds after it stopped ringing.

Still curious, Henry switched the tabs on his computer, noticing that the chat with Steve, which he left open hours ago, showed that there was an ongoing video call. His jaw fell. Henry tightened his hands into fists, fuming with anger. First as you for doing this, and then at himself for allowing you to believe this was an ok thing to do. He knew there was no way to eavesdrop on your conversation even if he had the password, but that didn't mean his curiosity died down. No, it only grew stronger.

He felt lost for a minute, but then he thought of something. On his dresser, right next to his winter gloves and under his favorite jogging hat, laid an extra set of keys. Henry remembered the day you gave them to him, saying something along the lines of 'I feel much safer knowing that if something were to happen, you could always get to me, Henry.' and then remembered how you stuffed them in his pocket, and kissed his chest before stepping back. Such different times.

There was no trace of hesitation inside his mind as he grabbed the keys and made his way out of his home. He passed the hallway in less than a second and pressed his ear to the door. It was perfectly quiet, and through the peephole, he couldn't see any light. You weren't in the kitchen or living room, so he felt confident enough. After putting his phone on vibrate, Henry ever so gently pushed the key inside, turning it inside the lock with the most meticulous movement his wrist could muster. The sound of the door knob being turned was so faint he barely even heard it, but his pulse skyrocketed when he heard the click that signaled the door was finally open.

With small, careful steps, he made his way inside. The entire apartment was dark and quiet as he made his way in, stopping just outside your bedroom as the relaxed, deep voice of a stranger became audible through the wall. “Trust me, sweetheart. Just relax, I got you. You’re all tense, I can see it from here. You know I have more experience with this than you do, just do as I say”

With one hand on the doorknob of your bedroom, Henry was ready to put an end to this whole charade. He knew he might regret it later, but he didn't care. The image of a so called friend, pushing you to do anything that you seemed to have clearly stated your discomfort about, flipped a switch inside his brain. There was no stopping him because no one, no one got to push you around like that. Not while he could do anything about it.

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fics #august walker x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #walter marshall x reader #ahh #a helping hand

1K notes · View notes

jkstompers · 3 years

Text

just to study | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: your seat partner asks if you’re free after class, just to study.

genre: fluff, college!au, established friendship, flirtationship, mutual pining, they go to a ‘frat’ party together, also yugyeom! a sweetheart<3 we love him.

warnings: mature!!, mentions of alcohol + alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, strong language, SEXUAL TENSION, mentions of dick sucking??, hints of a wet dream on oc’s end, very strong urges to kiss each other but no kisses today </3, that’s pretty much it!

word count: 7.4k (i...kinda went overboard)

authors’ note: hello!! this is a pt. 2 to sleepyhead! it’s based a few weeks after so yeah <3 also the pacing is kind of weird but… i don’t really know how being drunk is so............(＞人＜) i’m sorry about that! one scene was inspired by this post haha it was just so cute to think about i had to do it. ALSO i literally haven’t taken anatomy since high school so i just used random terms from quizlet T_T pls excuse that as well! but otherwise, enjoy!!!!!!!!! (っ^_^)っ

(if u see any typos...ignore them pls T_T)

side note: imagine jk looking like this when he goes to the party lmao classic fboy look with the camo bomber and his piercings ugh <3

banner pic creds here ! <3

you made it to class on time today, woke to your alarm and even had enough time to eat breakfast before you came. in a particularly good mood, you made your way up the stairs to the row jungkook was sitting in, hoping that the seat next to him was empty (you didn’t have to hope, jungkook always saved the seat next to him for you, no matter what.)

“good morning, ___!” jungkook’s voice greets you the same as always as soon as you appear next to him. he moves his bag out of the way for you to sit down.

he looks especially cute today. his long floppy hair framing his face, his sweet smile beaming up to you. you wonder how dumb you looked drooling over him for a minute before you replied, “hi jungkook, how are you?” with the same smile on your face that you show him every time he sees you. it never changes, but it never fails to make jungkook’s heart skip a beat.

“i’m doing okay, you?” he answers while you pull out your laptop.

you didn’t have a chance to reply before your professor starts talking. informing the class about the test that’s planned at the end of the month, finals in two months, and then dropping the bomb that there’s a quiz tomorrow about the things you’ve learned in the past week. a slight panic takes over you, although you didn’t know why, you understood what he was teaching and you were retaining all of the information well. but when the professor pulls up all the information on the screen to review it all, all of the words and pictures overwhelm you.

to make things worse, jungkook is to your left, not paying attention to a word your professor is saying. instead, playing some game where he has to click his touchpad an obnoxious amount of times. your attention is split between jungkook’s erratic tapping and the notes that the professor projects onto the screen, even though his computer barely made any noise, his incessant movement was distracting you.

“jungkook, you’re taking notes and playing a game?” your voice comes out as a rushed whisper. there’s a snort that comes from him before he nods. you couldn’t be mad at him. “there’s a quiz on all of this tomorrow, you know?”

“i know,” he continues to tap and click, the motion growing incredibly annoying. you didn’t know why you couldn’t have just tried to block it out, but he was just so close to you and admittedly, you looked at his hands, a lot. the way that his fingers tapped against his keyboard and his veins that accentuate his already beautiful hands, it was free art you could look at, how could you not? at this point, you’re contemplating holding his hand to make him stop tapping.

you were in the middle of typing when he finally stops, leaning back and stretching his arms up into the air. you let out a sigh of relief, until he starts again. apparently he reached the next level on his game, tapping even faster, if that was even fucking possible.

quietly, you groan. turning your attention solely on him. you place your hand on top of his, the tapping ceasing almost immediately. “please, jungkook, you’re distracting me.”

he looks at your hand before he looks at you, his chocolate doe eyes wide to the action. he gulps, “sorry.”

you remove your hand, focusing back to the presentation. jungkook feels the heat from his cheeks travel to his hand. the feeling of your hand on his wasn’t something he was expecting to experience today, but he wants nothing more than for you to do it again. he exits the game tab and changes his focus to the lecture.

or moreso, you focusing on the lecture.

you look so cute. your cheek pressed up against your fist. he stares at the way that your forehead creases in concentration. he taps on your arm that’s resting on the table, “hey, you look like you’re stressed out.”

you turn your head slightly to look over to him. “that’s because i am,” you send him a quick smile before you go back to looking at the projection.

he furrows his eyebrows, “why? you’re smart, there’s no need to worry about what you get on this.” you were an a+ student, never anything less than that. jungkook knows that you ace every test that you take, so he doesn’t quite understand why you’re so stressed.

“because jungkook,” you groan. you expected a lot from yourself, sure b’s were okay, but a’s and a+’s were what you wanted and what you thought would make you feel satisfied. there was no way you could explain this without sounding like an overachiever. so you just sigh, “i’m just not really prepared.”

jungkook thinks of the perfect way to spend more time with you, snapping his fingers before suggesting, “we should study together after class, studies show that studying with someone else will give you an a+, guaranteed.” the confidence in his voice makes you smile, and helps you ease up a little bit.

you raise an eyebrow, a laugh creeping up from your lungs. “source for that statistic, sir?”

he taps his right temple, the gesture making you snort. “no but seriously, i’ll help you out,” he assures. his laptop turns towards you to show you all the notes he took, different words highlighted and colored differently.

you act like you think about it, staying quiet for a minute or so. but you know the answer was yes no matter what. “just to study?” you tease. jungkook raises his eyebrows in surprise, an amused smile on his face, “just kidding, we can go to mine? i owe you for the ride you gave me like two weeks ago.” you tap your fingers against your laptop nervously, your teeth taking in your bottom lip as you ask. you haven’t had a guy over to your apartment, not since you’ve moved in. there’s a certain anxiousness that comes with the suggestion.

jungkook nods, “sounds good.”

“okay, again.” you brush your hair behind your ears, preparing yourself once more for another pass of the flashcards. the two of you have been at it with these cards for the past hour or so, you were determined to get these right no matter how long it took. jungkook knew you were gonna get it down, you only had three more cards, these ones specifically stumping you.

“aponeuroses,” he looks at the card and then to you.

“connective tissue that forms a broad sheet which attach muscle to bone or muscle to other muscles,” you speak confidently. jungkook nods, moving onto the next card of the set of three.

“endomysium,” he reads the card. you hesitate on this one for a second, he plays with the corner of the card until you snap your fingers.

“that’s the connective tissue surrounding the… the— uh, oh! muscle fiber?” your brain works extra hard. jungkook rewards you with another nod, flipping to the last card.

“fascia.”

“dense connective tissue,” you begin, pausing to think of the rest of the answer. you start biting your thumb nail, knowing there’s more to it but it’s not coming to your brain quick enough.

jungkook just stares, watching your facial expressions as you search for the answer in your brain. this could be the worst crush he’s ever had, he thinks you’re cute when you’re just sitting there, thinking. he doesn’t remember ever liking someone this much, most of the time his crushes went away after a few weeks or so. but it’s almost been an entire year since he’s started crushing on you, and it still hasn’t stopped. you still manage to find a way to make his thoughts surround you.

“separates and holds individual tissues? it’s the one that extends into the tendons, right?” you perk up after a minute or so. your brain finally coming up with the answer. you blame jungkook’s presence for slowing you down. maybe you shouldn’t have accepted this offer to study together, because how could you focus when jeon jungkook is sitting right in front of you?

“you’re amazing,” he praises, setting the flashcards down onto the table. you blush at the compliment, jungkook takes notice, but he doesn’t mind, he thinks pink is pretty on you. he’s never wanted to kiss your cheeks as much as he did now, and trust, he’s thought about it many, many times. “all done?” he asks after staring at you for the longest time.

you nod, “just gonna highlight these terms to review them later so i can get it down 100%.”

jungkook watches as you diligently reread your notes and highlight them. an apple on the table taking his attention away for a second when he realizes he hasn’t eaten at all today. he takes a bite, the loud crunch noise seemingly startling the both of you. it makes you turn your head and raise an eyebrow towards him.

“sorry,” he chews, “hungry.”

your stare lingers a little longer than you wanted it to. his cheeks are full of apple, you can’t help but laugh a little. “there’s still the sticker on it,” you point out.

he turns the apple around to see the blue sticker. peeling it off, he holds it on his fingertip, an idea sprouting in his mind to see that sweet smile of yours again. so he places the sticker on your cheek, your gaze moving from your screen to him and then to the fruit sticker now stuck onto your cheek. “get it? ‘cause you’re sweet like this apple is,” he smiles.

oh my god. you blush embarrassingly, your entire face flushed pink as you hide your cheeks behind your hands. he laughs at your reaction. jungkook was feeling bold today, so he moves forward, gently taking your hands away from your face to see the cute pink tint he caused. he sits back, admiring your pretty face.

you feel yourself burning hotter and hotter the longer he stares, looking everywhere but his face, too scared to make eye contact. you look back to your computer screen, “um— there’s pasta in the fridge— if you’re hungry, i made it last night.” you offer, but he declines politely, telling you that he has to leave pretty soon because his friends are expecting him to join them today.

begrudgingly, you watch as jungkook packs his things up. he thinks about how content he felt hanging out with you today, and how he wanted to do it again, as soon as possible. a thought pops into his head before he opens the door to leave. he turns on his heel.

you weren’t expecting the sudden turn, accidentally bumping into his chest. “oof! sorry.”

“it’s alright,” he laughs, helping you steady yourself by holding your shoulders. “i just wanted to ask— uh, my friends are throwing a party tomorrow night, do you— do you wanna come?” his words come out jumbled, jungkook never fails to trip on his words whenever he’s near you.

tomorrow night...it’s a friday tomorrow, the quiz is tomorrow, why the fuck not? a stress reliever from all the studying you’ve done. “sure,” you answer after a minute or so of deliberation. you look up at him with a smile, suddenly realizing how close the two of you are.

your eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips, the close proximity makes you hold your breath. “great! i can pick you up? be your DD?” he quirks his head, a smile that matches yours on his face.

you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” with that, jungkook takes a step back, widening the space between you both as his right hand goes to hold the strap of his bag.

“okay, i’ll text you the details.” before he turns around, turning the knob of your front door and letting himself out. before the door closes, he sends you a wave, one which you reflect as he pulls the door closed. you move up and lock the door, your forehead resting against the cold metal slab.

you wonder if this crush will ever advance into something more. neither of you really push the agenda, most of the time just cutely flirting with each other and only talking to each other during class. maybe this party will be a chance to further the bond the two of you have. you could only wish that you could drop this nervous shield that pops up everytime you’re around him, but jungkook is just so cool. the campus heartthrob, everyone wants to be him or be with him.

for the rest of the day, jungkook seems to occupy your mind, as he always does. when you get to sleep, the fantasies of jungkook’s lips on yours drift you into a deep sleep, one that eventually leads to a dream that has you rubbing your thighs together. his hands were all over your body, his cologne that you were so familiar with tormenting your nose, it all felt too real. so when you woke up to the sound of your alarm, sweat beaded at your hairline. you took deep breaths, cementing the fact that he isn’t here, and he certainly isn’t doing those things with you right now.

it was not helping that you dreamt of him sexually on the day of your quiz, the one that you were immensely stressing over. now, you’re gonna have to walk into class, act normal around jungkook even though your brain produced pornographic images of him, (it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time you’ve had to face him right after it happened) and ace this quiz.

you tried almost everything you could to have cleared your brain of your dream sequence. taking a shower, eating breakfast, studying once more, etc. but when you’re walking into the lecture hall, flashes of the dream and the sound of his imagined moan echo in your mind.

you walk up the stairs with your eyes down, not sure if you could make eye contact with jungkook without turning red. “hey, ___, good morning!” the familiar voice greets you.

“morning,” you reply, dryly. taking the seat next to him and silently taking your laptop out, waiting for the professor to start the quiz. jungkook seemed a bit taken aback by your cold answer, but he took into account that you’re probably just super nervous and stressed out because of the quiz, so he doesn’t take it too personally. instead, just sitting back in his chair and waiting patiently to take the quiz as well.

at this point, you were psyching yourself out, swearing that you already forgot all of the terms. if you were quizzed on the parts of male anatomy, specifically jungkook’s, then maybe you could ace it, but the terms that you were working oh so hard to memorize yesterday slip from your mind. when the professor tells you to separate and start the quiz, you start to bite your thumb nail again.

jungkook takes a look over at you, noticing the bad habit of yours. he gently takes a hold of your arm, pulling your thumb away from your teeth. the action causing you to make eye contact with him and his big doe eyes that hold so much love and light. you find yourself a bit speechless then, too many thoughts running around in your mind.

he whispers, “you’ll do great, okay?” the statement soothing your nerves. his voice somehow makes your body relax, even though you thought you would freak out if you made any sort of contact with him.

“you— you too, good luck,” you mutter. a half smile on your face. you were grateful that jungkook broke you out of your trance, his words of encouragement suddenly placing you in the testing state of mind. the images from last night's dream seem to put themselves away for now.

the next twenty minutes are complete silence. everyone focused on the questions before them. of course, you zoomed through the quiz, prepared for the trick questions and the harder ones that come up. jungkook finishes after you. it wasn’t a surprise, jungkook didn’t even have to try, you swear you’ve never seen him stress out before. nobody was perfect, you believed that, but jeon jungkook was the closest to it.

“okay, class! the quiz will be graded by tonight hopefully, you’re free to leave,” your professor alerts the class. jungkook waits patiently until you’re standing, following you down the stairs and out the door.

you decide to speak first, since you greeted him with such a dry response this morning. it wasn’t his fault that you dreamed of him on top of you, so why were you punishing him for it? “how’d you think you did?” you asked, turning to look at him.

he shrugs, “good i guess, i think i fucked up on one or two questions.”

“was it the striation part? i think i messed up on that one too.”

he shakes his head, “you know you aced that, don’t lie.”

you stay silent, the two of you walking to the campus parking lot. neither of you engage in conversation as you usually do. the images of last night’s dream slipping into your consciousness once again. you try to shake your head, to rid yourself of the thoughts. nothing else to distract you from them because jungkook was oddly silent the entire walk. you fear that he can actually read your mind and see all of your thoughts. if he could, he doesn’t mention it. not saying one word to you until he walks you to your car, greeting you with a ‘see you next class!’ before leaving to go to his car. not even mentioning the party to you, you start to wonder if he regrets inviting you. up until you heard your phone ring when you parked in the lot of your apartment complex.

[10:24 am] jungkook: hey! forgot to remind u about the party 😫

[10:24 am] jungkook: ur still down to come, right?

[10:28 am] you: hi! yeah :)

[10:28 am] you: is there a dress code or smth? haha

[10:29 am] jungkook: not that i know of 😂

[10:30 am] jungkook: u can wear anything u want

[10:30 am] jungkook: ur cute whatever u wear

[10:31 am] you: oh stop it jeon ur making me blush

[10:32 am] you: but tell me :( should i wear something casual? pants? a dress?

[10:34 am] jungkook: 😂

[10:34 am] jungkook: it’s kind of like a frat party…

[10:35 am] jungkook: so anything is okay

[10:37 am] you: ah okay

[10:37 am] you: i’ll surprise u then ;)

[10:40 am] jungkook: alright :)

[10:41 am] jungkook: i’ll come by around 9 to pick u up? sound good?

[10:42 am] you: yeah! gives me enough time to nap and get ready lol

[10:44 am] jungkook: great :) see u then cutie

you wake up from your nap around one, you had more than enough time for you to get ready for a party. so you decide to clean your apartment first, little chores to waste time before you get yourself dolled up. when you finished, it was around seven thirty. you washed your face, brushed your teeth, all that good stuff before sliding on a simple black bodycon that you got last summer. styling your hair and spraying on your favorite perfume before looking at yourself in the mirror. this wasn’t too much, right? lots of people wear stuff like this to frat parties, so you didn’t find it too fancy. the notification sound from your phone goes off, you move to check and see if it was who you were expecting.

[8:54 pm] jungkook: i’m here :)

[8:54 pm] you: ahh gimme a sec i need to pee haha

[8:55 pm] jungkook: take ur time cutie

[8:56 pm] jungkook: i’m right in front

jungkook only really had to wait about five minutes. the visual of you walking out of your apartment doors, looking the way you did, was breathtaking. his jaw drops, mouth slightly agape as he watches you walk up to his car through the passenger window. you are so gorgeous. it’s probably the first time jungkook’s seen you in clothes that really compliment your figure, most of the time you show up to class in hoodies and sweaters. so greedily, he takes in the way the dress hugs your curves deliciously. he shakes the thoughts from his head to get out of the car and open the door for you.

“what a gentleman,” you tease, getting into the car.

he joins you soon after, “you look...gorgeous.” jungkook doesn’t seem so shy now, his eyes taking in your beautiful self.

“thank you,” you blush under his stare. “is it too much?”

“no! no— not at all, all eyes will be on you tonight.” he smiles, turning the car on. now you were able to gawk over him. a simple outfit, all black with a black and white camo bomber. his side profile is perfect, his long hair draping over his face so gracefully and his piercings somehow sparkling in the dark of the car.

he doesn’t drive too far, somewhere in the suburbs where the big houses are. a huge iron gate in the front, seemingly too fancy for a frat party setting. jungkook rolls his window down to greet someone waiting in front of the gate with a couple of other guys.

“jeon! you’re late dude,” one of the guys gives him a handshake through the window.

“sorry man, i’m here now though,” jungkook laughs. the guy giving him the greenlight and opening the gate for him, jungkook parks inside on their stone driveway, decorated with a fountain and a beautiful garden.

“your friend lives here?” you inquire, impressed by the look of the place.

he nods, “fancy right? his parents are ceo’s.” makes sense, and it would also make sense as to why they were throwing a frat party here, rich sons always seem to stir up trouble whenever they’re bored.

he steps out of the car to open the door for you, always a gentleman. he takes your hand and helps you out, the two of you walking to the huge open double doors. as soon as you walk in, the smell of alcohol hits your nose, you try your best not to cringe. the blare of the speakers is the second thing you notice, along with the shouting of jungkook’s friends greeting him. “who’s this?” one of them asks, referring to you.

jungkook seems to hesitate at first, not really knowing how to introduce you. he settles by saying, “this is ___!” not attaching any ‘friend’, ‘classmate’, or anything to the introduction. his friend holds his hand out to shake yours.

you take it with a smile on your face, “i’m yugyeom, it’s nice to meet you!” a smile that reflects yours is on his face, it made you feel welcome. you were never really the type to go to parties, your time is spent working and/or going to school, but this interaction helps you ease up a little more.

“hello, yugyeom!” you reply, shouting over the music.

“do you wanna take a shot?” he asks. pointing to the enormous kitchen where they’re housing all the alcohol, you look to jungkook first who’s paying more attention to his phone rather than the conversation you were just having.

you shrug, “why not?”

yugyeom leads the two of you to the kitchen, jungkook following behind you blindly. he looks up from his phone, done with whatever business he was dealing with to ask, “where are we going?”

“taking a shot,” you answer, pointing to yugyeom who’s already pouring three shots.

“dude, i’m not drinking, don’t pour three.” jungkook tries to stop him before he fills up the third shot glass but his arm knocks yugyeom’s in the process, the bottle spilling the clear liquid into the third shot glass.

“i’ll take two,” you suggest, feeling a bit wild and down to venture out of your comfort zone.

yugyeom smiles at this, “i like her, jeon.” he hands you the two shot glasses full of vodka, jungkook stands next to you and watches as you down the first shot. your face cringing as soon as the alcohol touches your tongue.

“you didn’t even give her a chaser,” jungkook notices, scolding yugyeom who's already downed his shot and is sucking on a lime. “here, suck,” holding a slice of lime up to your lips. his choice of words disorienting you, especially since he was holding the lime up to your mouth instead of just handing it to you. your eyes flicker between the lime and his face, but nevertheless, you suck. sinking your teeth into the sour fruit. jungkook’s eyes zeroed in on how your lips wrap around the slice, slightly grazing his fingers. it’s not long before you’re making a cute scrunched up face from the sourness. “good,” he praises. you don’t deny the slight burn your lower belly felt when he said that to you. you swear he was making sex eyes to you, but you couldn’t tell. he broke eye contact with you soon after, throwing the fruit into the trash below the table that the alcohol was perched on.

yugyeom hands you another lime for your second shot, this time no jungkook to hold the fruit for you. the second shot burning down your throat with the lime chasing after, both yugyeom and jungkook cheer, congratulating you for being a trooper (even though two shots were their warmups).

the next hour or so, jungkook brings you around. he introduces you to his friends and making conversation with them. one certain group, you didn’t really enjoy. a group of five girls, clearly swarming jungkook as soon as he turned around from talking to another one of his friends. the girls ask how he’s been doing, all of the basic conversation starters. when jungkook tries to introduce you, they all turn to you and give you a little head nod before turning their attention back to jungkook. he stands there, conversing with them longer than he had with any of his other friends, and you found yourself getting, hm, jealous.

so you search around the room crowded room, looking for some way out. your eyes spot yugyeom in the backyard through the huge sliding doors, sitting on one of those lawn chairs with the one next to him empty. you decide to leave the group you were currently getting pushed out of and join yugyeom. he notices you when you step onto the grass, trying your best not to sink into the dirt with your heels. “you doing alright? where’s jungkookie?” he asks, sitting up.

you plop down onto the lawn chair next to him. “he’s in there,” you point to the house, “with five girls.”

the last bit of the sentence makes him laugh, a cackle where he holds his stomach because he was laughing so hard. “do you want a shot?” he offers after he recovers from his fit, pulling a tequila bottle out from nowhere.

but you agree, “two, please.” he fills the two shot glasses, but not completely like he did with the vodka earlier. there were no limes, or any type of chaser for you to take around, so you take the two shots like ripping off a band-aid, quick.

“you’re a funny girl,” yugyeom compliments when you’ve downed the shots.

“thanks?” you cough, the feeling of the alcohol still burning your nose and throat, “what did i say that was funny?”

“i think it’s because i’m tipsy, but that joke you made about jungkook being with five girls was hilarious.” he slaps his knee, almost making himself laugh up a storm again, but you weren’t laughing.

you raised an eyebrow, speaking with a serious tone. “it wasn’t a joke, he’s in there with five girls.”

yugyeom tries to collect himself, sitting properly on the lawn chair when he asks you to clarify, “you mean he’s fucking them? or he’s talking to them?”

you’re silent for a second before replying, why did you say it like he was in there fucking them? maybe it’s because he might as well be, so engrossed in whatever the hell they were saying to even notice that you were gone. “just talking to them,” you reply.

“that’s what i thought, jungkook isn’t like that anymore,” yugyeom nods his head, pouring another shot out for you.

“anymore?” you ask. he hands you the shot, you hesitate this time, starting to feel the effects of the first four shots you took. he doesn’t push you to take it. he just leans back onto the lawn chair as he sighs.

“you could say he’s retired,” he shrugs.

the term makes you laugh, “...a retired fuckboy?” you sit back into the lawn chair as well, looking up to the night sky. the shot glass forgotten on the table next to you. your body feels like it’s floating.

“yeah, he hasn’t really been doing stuff like that recently,” yugyeom spills. you stay quiet after he feeds you this information. yugyeom offhandedly telling you that you shouldn’t be jealous makes you feel guilty. why were you even jealous? jungkook was technically still just a friend to you. just because the two of you flirt every now and then doesn’t mean you’re together. of course he would be surrounded by girls, just look at him!

“there you are! i was looking all over for you,” jungkook interrupts your inner monologue. his voice comes from across the lawn, you look up to see him walking over to you and yugyeom.

“hi, jungkookie,” you smile up at him. the alcohol having more of an effect on you the longer you let it sit in your stomach.

he almost freezes up at the nickname, looking over to yugyeom and asking, “did you tell her to call me that?”

yugyeom holds his hands up in innocence, “i didn’t tell her to do anything, she’s like five or six shots deep though.”

you take the shot that was forgotten on the table and down it. “six,” you clarify.

“alright, slow down, iron liver,” jungkook jokes. yugyeom stands from the lawn chair, receiving jungkook’s telepathic signals to get the fuck up to he could talk and hang out with you.

“play beer pong with me later, ___! i’m gonna go look for eunwoo,” yugyeom points to you, giving you a thumbs up before leaving the backyard and moving into the house.

“feeling okay? think you might throw up soon?” jungkook asks, replacing yugyeom in the chair next to you.

“feel like i’m surfing, you know? like wavy,” you answer. the feeling was hard to explain, you weren’t dizzy but at the same time your brain was telling you to stop moving, even though you were completely still.

“ah, you’re getting there,” jungkook snorts. you didn’t have much willpower to answer, so the two of you sit there in a comfortable silence before a group of people coming towards, all greeting jungkook and you. they offer you a red cup, despite your current predicament. leaning against the chair and your droopy eyes, telling them that you’ve taken too many shots. a lightweight at her peak.

jungkook tries to deny it for you, but with a smile, you accept the cup. it was filled with the fancy mixed alcohol juice they had. “thank you,” you place the cup onto the table, “i’ll drink it.... later..” your words begin to draw themselves out. jungkook somehow finding a way to make the entire group leave, making it just the two of you again.

“give it to me, you’re starting to slur your words.” his hand is open, laying on the table and waiting for you to surrender the cup.

your eyes flicker from the red cup, to his face, then to his hand. a smirk on your face when you hold the cup up to your lips, tilting it back and drinking the cursed juice. you weren’t able to down it all, it was too much, you drank maybe ⅔ of it. you cough, taking in a deep breath as you try to steady yourself.

you weren’t sure if it was because you were drunk, but the way that his face looks in the moonlight was so pretty. so you just had to tell him. leaning forward, you speak, almost a whisper, “you’re so handsome.” you drag your finger across the expanse of jungkook’s hand. “did you know i have no gag reflex?” you smile, not your typical sweet smile that he’s used to, but a devilish grin.

jungkook’s eyes widen, his cheeks flushing immediately at your remark. “alright, you drank way too much.” he takes the red cup from your hands, dumping it out onto the grass in front of you both.

“hey, i wasn’t done,” you pout, but jungkook didn’t give you much time to mourn your spilled drink before he was holding your arm, lifting you from the lawn chair you were sitting on. “where are we going?” you ask, trailing behind him with your hand in his.

“gonna get you some water and something to eat,” he answers. the two of you move through the house, jungkook pushes through groups of people and makes sure you’re safe behind him.

“i have to pee.” you tip toe to tell him your emergency in his ear. he stops at the stairs, knowing a bathroom where no one else goes. his friend specifically telling him to use that bathroom when they have parties because the other ones get way too gross.

he brings you up the stairs to the guest bedroom, opening the door to reveal one of the biggest rooms you’ve seen. “the bathroom is there,” jungkook points to the door on the left. you nod, your wobbly legs making their way to the toilet.

jungkook sits on the bed patiently, waiting for you to finish. he hears the flush and the sound of the sink running, the door opens and you’re coming out of the bathroom, pulling your dress down. “are we gonna have sex?” you utter, slurring the end of your sentence. your alcohol poisoned mind taking over your ability to speak.

his eyes widen at the question. “no! no— oh my god, this is just the room with the cleanest bathroom, we’re not—“

you’re next to him now, “you don’t want to?” you pout. glassy eyes looking into his.

“no! i mean, yes, i want to but— fuck, just— just not now, yeah?” jungkook stumbles over his words, his face blushing a blood red. your pretty face peering up at him makes him even more flustered, his hands start to sweat.

“okay,” you nodded. your drunken brain deciding to stop the interrogation of jungkook’s desire for you. to which jungkook lets out a sigh of relief, taking your hand and bringing you out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the driveway. he brings you to his car, opening the passenger door for you. “wait, are we leaving already? yugyeomie wants me to play beer pong with him,” you complain, wiggling your hand from his grasp.

goosebumps appear on your arm when you make it outside of the house. jungkook notices when he turns around to look at you. without a second thought, he takes his jacket off and places it over your shoulders. the newfound warmth shielding you from the cold night. he didn’t mind the breeze, especially since he was still recovering from the stunt you pulled in the guest room.

“we can come back later if you want, let’s just go grab something to eat first so you won’t regret this tomorrow morning.” his explanation is pretty solid according to your drunken brain, so you oblige, moving to sit in his passenger seat.

he joins you in the driver’s seat not long after. “can we get mcdonald’s?” you ask as soon as he sits down.

a smile appears on his face as he starts the car, “sure.”

the drive made you feel a little dizzy, it makes you laugh. “you okay?” jungkook asks, but you nod your head. he’s so sweet, always asking if you’re okay, making sure you weren’t feeling too awful, etc. it only makes sense that you were falling head over heels for him.

“totally fine,” you look over to him with a smile on your face. he’s so fucking pretty, his side profile is something you could rave about for days. as he’s pulling into the mcdonald’s drive through, he’s talking into the intercom, ordering the two of you something to eat when you’re suddenly mumbling, “mcflurry, kookie, oreo mcflurry.”

he looks back to you, an amused smile on his face, “oreo mcflurry?” he repeats. you nod, “okay, anything for you.”

he reiterates the request into the intercom and the server gives him the greenlight. he drives forward and waits until the next car moves up, in the time being, he looks to you. your head laying up against the door and your eyes slowly blinking, warning him that you might fall asleep. so he reaches into his backseat, his arm looking for the water bottles that he usually keeps in his car.

“hey,” he taps your arm gently, “drink some of this first.” he hands you the water bottle, you blink slowly, trying to figure out what he was handing you. once you realize it was a water bottle, you take it, opening it and gulping some of the water down. jungkook is grabbing the food when you’re screwing the cap back on. he parks somewhere in the parking lot and tells you to start eating.

you grab your mcflurry first, the feeling of the cold ice cream on your tongue soothing your dizzy brain. “yum,” you think out loud.

jungkook laughs, taking out his hamburger while he takes out your chicken nuggets. “make sure to eat some of this, yeah? don’t want you throwing up and hating me.”

the thought makes you smile. jungkook was taking such great care of you. sure, he let you down the alcohol like it was nothing, but you never opposed to it, always taking the shot because you wanted to. now jungkook is here, taking care of you, because he wanted to. you knew that if it were anybody else, they probably would have left you at the party, letting you fend for yourself. the sudden warmth in your chest makes you want to tell jungkook everything.

with his jacket wrapped around you instead of him, you can see the bulge of his arm muscles peek out from the short sleeved shirt he was wearing. even drunk, your brain seems to travel back to the images from your dream. “you know, i had a dream about you, a reeaaaallllllyyyyy dirty dream, jeon jungkook.” you blurt out the confession before your thoughts catch up with you, the alcohol still very much blocking off the common sense part of your brain.

he tries his best not to overreact, but you had a dream about him? a dirty dream at that? it awakens something in jungkook, but he pushes it down, ignoring the feeling as he asks, “you did? what was it about?” he curious as to what you meant and what your dream entailed, but he didn’t want to push too far. especially since you were drunk and most likely just spilling everything because your brain doesn’t have the willpower to hold it back.

you stick your hand into the bag to steal some fries, stuffing them in your mouth. “oh, you don’t wanna know,” you chew.

jungkook quirks a brow, “well, was i good at least?” he jokes.

you scrunch your nose, nodding nevertheless. “too good, couldn’t even focus during the quiz because of it.”

jungkook is silent for a second. the conversation making him hot even though he wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore. so he clears his throat, trying to change the subject in a subtle manner. “is that why you were so mean to me this morning?” he pouts, connecting the dots.

you laugh at the question, “sorry, i didn’t mean to, i swear.”

with that, the rest of the time is spent eating. jungkook makes sure that you ate enough and drank enough water, the empty water bottle in his cupholder as proof. “do you want me to take you home now?” he asks, the two of you finished eating and now a silence takes over the car.

“are you going back?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers. he thinks you’ve started to sober up, or maybe have gotten to the point where you just want to sleep.

he shakes his head to your question, “honestly, i’m kind of tired, but if you want to go back, we can go.”

“no, i’m okay,” you decline the offer. jungkook laughs, starting the car again and driving back to your apartment complex.

you take this time to try to get yourself together. you know you’ll regret confessing to jungkook that you had a wet dream about him in the morning. but in the moment, it felt right to confess, (to your drunken brain of course). you tilt your head back, pushing your head against the headrest, and suddenly, you’re reminded of the stars jungkook has on his ceiling. you were silent as you admired the lights, jungkook takes a look at you when he’s stopped at a red light.

so cute, he thinks, staring up at his ceiling like it’s the real night sky. when he pulls up to your apartment complex, he wishes the night could be longer, that he could spend more time with you. he parks the car in the front, exactly where he picked you up. you’re looking to him now, your hands in your lap and your heart seemingly beating three times as fast as it usually does. it wasn’t the alcohol.

“did you have fun tonight?” he asks. his voice never fails to make you melt.

you nod, “i did.”

“i’m glad,” he smiles. there’s a small silence before he speaks once more, “also, y’know, you don’t have to stress yourself out so much, i know you might have expectations for yourself and stuff, but you should give yourself a break from time to time.”

the alcohol’s effects fading slowly from your brain when you start to realize that the entire reason jungkook invited you out was to help you destress. it makes you fall even harder, he was so thoughtful. even though a party wasn’t your scene, he invited you to give you a glimpse into how he has fun and hoped that it would help you loosen up a bit. you were grateful for the mental break he provided you.

you didn’t reply, purely because you were thinking about how much you want to kiss him right now, but it wouldn’t be right. when he speaks up again, there’s a nervous lilt in his voice, scared that he’s overstepped. “if you need anyone to help you— i don’t know, let loose? you can— you can always call me.” he scratches the back of his neck.

but you try your best to reassure him, smiling at the offer. “i will, thank you for tonight, jungkook, i really enjoyed it, despite being a lightweight.”

he laughs, staring at the way your face cutely scrunches when you giggle. he too, is fighting the urge to kiss you, because right now isn’t a good time. he wants to do it right. he doesn’t want to fuck it up with you. so instead, he hops out of the car and moves to open the door for you. helping you out of the car and walking you to your door, your hand in his.

“i’ll see you in class?” you turn to face him, squeezing his hand.

he nods, “yeah.” his signature bunny smile coming out to greet you a goodnight. “text me before you sleep?” he requests. you give him a thumbs up before he’s letting go of your hand and you’re sticking the key into your door, it’s then that you realize that you’re still wearing his jacket.

“oh!” you exclaim, taking the jacket off and handing it to him. but he holds his hand out to stop you.

“keep it, you can give it to me the next time we hang out, or something,” he suggests. you try to hide the growing smile behind a nod.

you hold onto his jacket, “goodnight, jungkook.”

he sticks his hands in his pockets, sending you another grin, “goodnight, ___.”

jungkook drives home, his empty apartment welcoming him. he plops down onto his bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes he was in because he was that tired. the events of today running through his mind.

he hopes you don’t think he was doing anything with those five girls. he saw you walk away when you did, he tried his best to escape the conversation, but they kept pulling him back. he gave up after ten tries of trying to get away, standing there for a good fifteen minutes listening to them babble about how much they missed him. jungkook had never rolled his eyes so many times in a conversation.

the talk the two of you had after was another thing taking over his mind. your dirty flirting and your dream you mentioned in the car had his imagination running all over the place. he didn’t want to push you when you explained, but he was very curious as to what he did in your dream, and how good it was for you to have it run through your mind all day.

his phone rings next to him. he turns and opens it, a smile on his face when he reads your message.

[12:32 am] you: hi jungkookieeeeeeeee

[12:33 am] you: im sleeping noww

[12:33 am] jungkook: alright cutie

[12:33 am] jungkook: goodnight! again 😂

[12:34 am] you: goodnight <3

he turns his phone off after that. looking up to his ceiling with a dumb smile on his face. his mind thinking of you and only you.

979 notes · View notes

drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Veritaserum Prompt Fic (Part 9)

(It has been a minute since I've posted anything on this fic. Sorry friends-thanks for your patience! If you'd like you can start at the beginning, Part 1 on Tumblr and click through or head over to AO3 to read the whole thing.) ============

One week.

It took one week for Draco to make all of the arrangements; to brew the potion and to get in touch with Granger to make a plan without Harry knowing.

None of it was easy, of course. Harry spent so much time with him that it was hard to have secrets, but Draco couldn't ever find it in himself to complain. If he was a better man maybe it would have gone faster but in the grand scheme of things what was one week against the balance of the rest of his life?

But, as he stirred the potion seven times counter-clockwise and it changed to a dark purple, he knew that his time was up. This was the last piece. He already had the portkey from Granger that would deliver him to her house, she'd drawn up the contract that he would sign when he got there granting Harry immunity, and now the sleeping draught was complete. A few drops in the tea that he was going to make for Harry right before bed and he'd be able to leave.

His heart clenched traitorously and his brain continuously searched for ways to weasel its way out of spending his life in prison. But this was the only way. The only that Harry would have a chance at the life that he deserved after all he'd been through. It wasn't fair for him not to get to enjoy the world he'd saved.

It was time for Draco to do the right thing. For once. He had to, Harry was his now and he had to protect him, he had to do what was best for him. The only way to give Harry his freedom was to give up his own.

"Hey," Harry said, voice warmer than the sunshine on the beach as he wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and buried his face in the side of Draco's neck, interrupting Draco from his thoughts. And Draco's entire soul ached.

(Read more below the cut)

"Hi yourself," he managed, keeping his voice light and cheerful.

He felt Harry grin against his neck, "How are you?" he asked as through they hadn't seen each other a mere hour ago.

"Good," he whispered, pressing back into Harry's arms, because how could he be anything else when Harry was holding him. "Did you finish that table you were building?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, kissing the spot just behind Draco's ear that made him feel a bit weak in the knees. "I thought maybe we could eat dinner outside."

He nodded, "Let me just tidy up out here first."

"Kay," Harry replied, pressing one more smacking kiss to his neck and making Draco laugh. "I'm going to start grilling the salmon we picked up yesterday, okay?"

He nodded. "I'll be out in a minute."

Harry gave him a wave and then disappeared out of the work room, traipsing through the green house.

Draco took a steadying breath and pulled out a small phial that he filled with the sleeping draught.

Only a few more hours.

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

And the hours passed far too quickly, eating dinner, then sitting close to the ocean where the waves could wash over their feet as they drank beer and laughed up at the stars.

"Harry?" he said.

"Mmh?" the other man asked, pressing his shoulder against Draco's.

He gave him a little smile, "This is the happiest I've ever been."

Harry turned his head to look at him and smiled back, "Yeah?"

Draco nodded.

"Me too," he replied, leaning in to kiss him softly.

His heart twisted uncomfortably in his chest, squeezing and wrenching like a wet towel being wrung out. "Love you," he whispered.

He felt Harry's smile as he kissed him, mouth stretched too wide, "I love you, too," he replied.

They sat staring out over the ocean for long moments and Draco knew he had to do it now. If he let the other man take him to bed, if he let Harry tell him how happy he was and how much he loved him, he wouldn't be able to do it.

"Do you want another?" he asked, pointing to Harry's beer. "I'm going to use the loo, I can grab you one while I'm up," he offered.

Harry tilted his head back to look up at him, curls spilling across his face and catching in the breeze. "Maybe a glass of water?"

"Alright," he replied, trying to figure out what he was going to hide the sleeping potion in as he brushed a few curly strands of hair out of Harry's eyes. "Be right back, then."

Harry caught his hand and tipped his head up so he could press a kiss to the inside of Draco's wrist and he felt his eyes well up. It shouldn't be possible to feel this much, shouldn't be possible for a heart to soar and clench at the same time.

He gave Harry's hand a squeeze before releasing him and heading toward the house, taking gasping breaths as he tried to calm down, tried to force the tears and the panic away. Once inside he looked around in the kitchen, water wouldn't mask the taste of the sleeping draught, he needed to find something else.

After a moment, he pulled down the biscuits that they'd baked together the day before, setting a few out on a plate, then pouring a glass of milk that he slipped several drops of the sleeping draught into.

It took him several minutes to work up the nerve, Merlin knew that he'd never been good at being brave; it's what had landed him in the situation in the first place. Squaring his shoulders, he levitated the plate and the glasses of milk, being sure to keep track of which one he'd put the potion into, outside to the beach.

Harry laughed when he saw him, reaching out to pluck the glass of milk closest to him from the air, "You're going to make me fat," Harry said. "And then you won't love me anymore."

Draco shook his head as he sat down next to Harry, leaning over to him to kiss him, "Impossible," he murmured. He cupped Harry's cheek, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone, "There is no possible version of us where I do not fall in love with you."

A pleased grin stretched Harry's mouth wide, "I wouldn't have pegged you as a romantic," he said.

"No?" Draco asked as he picked up one of the cookies.

Harry shook his head, "I would have imagined you having sharp edges still, with practical ways to show your love, not all-" he broke off and gestured to Draco, "soft."

He shrugged one shoulder, "We've had enough sharp, haven't we?" he asked.

"Definitely," Harry agreed, taking a cookie off the plate and dunking it into the milk.

Draco swallowed against the guilt and the desire to just make it all stop.

"These turned out really well," Harry said through a mouthful of cookie. "I can't believe you'd never baked cookies before yesterday."

He smiled, "Lots of firsts here."

The corner of Harry's mouth tipped up and he leaned over to kiss Draco again, soft and sweet. "What should our next first be?" he asked when he pulled back.

"I don't know," Draco replied, watching him dunk his cookie again, the milk soaking it and making a chunk break off and sink to the bottom.

"Drat," Harry said before taking a bite out of the remainder of it. "I've always wanted to take a trip to the states," he said. "And we all know that the Ministry doesn't work well with the one in the states. We probably wouldn't even have to hide."

He hummed, watching as Harry stifled a yawn.

"I want to go to that muggle amusement park," he added.

"Alright," Draco agreed. "We'll go, then."

Harry gave him one of those guileless grins of his before starting to lift the glass of milk to his lips.

"Kiss me," Draco blurted, needing just one more kiss before the end.

The other man obliged him, "Twist my arm," he said with a wink, leaning over and drawing Draco closer, so he could kiss him.

"Sorry," Draco said when they broke apart, "Finish your milk and biscuit."

"Don't be sorry," Harry said, "I will kiss you any time, love. Literally anytime." He drained his glass of milk, making a pleased little hum when he caught the piece of the biscuit he'd lost earlier.

The effects of the potion were immediate, as they always were, Draco watched as Harry's eyes started to droop.

"Merlin," he said through a yawn, "Draco I'm exhausted all of the sudden."

He nodded, "Let's go to bed," he offered, standing up and reaching for Harry's hands.

Harry allowed himself to be tugged to his feet and he stumbled into Draco, his body sinking into him like they'd been made to fit together.

"I've got you," Draco whispered, wrapping his arm around him and holding him for a minute, memorizing the curves of his body and the way they felt pressed together. "Come on," he said after a minute.

"Don't wanna," Harry mumbled against his collarbone. "M'comfortable."

"Bed will be more comfortable," Draco assured him, nudging him toward the house.

"You'll be there, too?"

"Yeah," he whispered, knowing that his heart would live here with the other man, tucked between his ribs next to his own for safe keeping.

He managed to navigate Harry inside and they crawled into bed, Harry curled around him, drawing Harry's back against his chest and holding him.

"Love you," Harry mumbled sleepily.

"I love you too," he managed, throat tight and raw as he clutched Harry tighter and held him impossibly closer. He stayed there for longer than was strictly necessary, Harry's body was lax in his arms, he let out a soft huff snore ever few exhalations, and there wasn't a doubt in Draco's mind that the other man was in a deep sleep.

"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Okay, you've got to get up." He pressed a kiss to the soft skin on the back of Harry's neck and slid out from under him, drawing away. "Don't think about it," he muttered as he made his way out of his room, quietly closing the door.

He went to the island in the kitchen and left a note, the closest thing to a love letter he'd ever written, and laid his wand on top of it.

"Don't think about it," he repeated, opening the cupboard under the sink and digging out the old scrub brush that Granger had sent him. He took a breath and closed his eyes, not giving himself even one more moment to think and talk himself out of it, and activated the portkey.

He was sucked through time and space, and the next thing he knew his feet hit the floor in an unfamiliar living room. The door opened and Granger and Weasley came in a moment later.

"Sorry," Granger said, "We weren't sure when you were coming."

"It's fine," he said, breathing through his nose and trying to fight the tears prickling the back of his eyes.

Granger held out a parchment, "You're sure you know what you're doing?"

He nodded and reached out for the quill set out on the desk.

"Malfoy," she said, pulling the contract back, "Draco," she added, voice soft in a way that made Draco want to cry and scream. "If you sign this you can never appeal the decision the court reached. You will be in prison for the rest of your life."

"I know."

Weasley cleared his throat, "Does Harry know you're here?"

"No," he said, looking up at them. "No, I gave him a sleeping draught. He can't know until it's finalized," he added. "You saw what happened at the trial. He's so-" he shook his head, he couldn't say it, couldn't make himself voice the words. Not to them, not to anyone; they were his, all he had left, and he buried them in his chest where his heart used to be. "He can't know."

"Are you certain?" Granger asked again.

"Give it to me," he snapped. "Just give me the damn contract. I can only be tested so many fucking times and if you think leaving Harry wasn't hard enough, if you think-" He broke off, realizing that he was gasping in ragged breaths and that tears had spilled down his face. He wiped his eyes furiously. "We all know that I am not the pinnacle of valor. Doing what is right when it is difficult has never been my strong suit. So please," he said, "please stop asking me."

"You love him, too," Weasley breathed as though it was some sort of revelation.

He snatched the contract from Granger's hand and signed it before either of them could say anything else. "You said you'd have someone from the ministry ready to take me?" he said, thrusting his chin up in the air and refusing to give in to the urge to break down.

"I'm taking you," she said softly.

He nodded, "let's go, then."

"Is there anything-" Weasley started.

He shook his head and ignored the way a tear slipped down his cheek, "There is only one thing I want and we all know I can't have him."

"Come on, then," Granger said, holding out her elbow.

Just as they apparated Weasley called out, "You're a good person, Draco Malfoy."

"He's right, you know," she said when their feet hit the ground.

Draco shook his head, "I'm not, obviously," he said gesturing to the prison doors they were about to walk through. "Will you do something for me?" he asked.

She nodded, "What do you need?"

"Don't let him do anything stupid," he said.

She laughed, "I've spent my whole life failing at that."

"Tell him it's okay," he pleaded, "It's fine to move on, to live a happy life. Tell him I want that for him." He swallowed around the tears. "Tell him he deserves to be happy more than anyone, that he deserves the best life," he said, an ugly sob escaping.

Before he knew what was happening, Granger wrapped him in her arms and pulled him into an uncomfortably tight hug. "We'll figure this out," she said fiercely.

He pulled back, shaking his head and wiping his face. "Don't. And please don't say that to him."

She searched his face for a long moment and Draco tried to pull himself together. "Right," she said, nodding once and squaring her shoulders, "This way."

He closed his eyes and let the memory of the sound of the waves crashing to shore, of Harry's hand in his, and the warm sun on his face, fill him up one more time before the darkness ahead.

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Part 8 | Part 10

#veritaserum prompt fic #part 9 #angst #angsty angst #happy ending to come #self sacrificing idiots #drarry #drarry fics #sorry this part is soooo long overdue.#I'll get it posted to AO3 asap.#<3

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theshelbyclan · 4 years

Text

Family Secrets

Summary: Polly finally lets slip what the real Shelby curse is and as the youngest Shelby, with a little encouragement from John, you feel obligated to use it to your own advantage

(Gif by @mistress-gif) A/N: I wrote this one when I couldn’t sleep, a long time ago, fuelled by my own frustration of being picked on as the youngest. This has been a headcanon of mine for ages and I finally put it to paper. I never had any intention of posting it, but because I’ve reached the 500 followers mark, I decided to share. It’s short, fluffy and a lot lighter than the actual series. Enjoy!

Words: 3220

***

“Give me the fucking book, John!” you bellowed through the kitchen. Your aunt was adamant that you’d all eat together, one day a week, on Sunday. These dinners were great and important, but they always ended in chaos. Tommy usually left early to get on with work, so he was never part of the sibling banter that ensued.

You had just finished eating and while Aunt Polly was busy clearing the dishes, you thought you could read a little. How wrong you were.

Holding the book out of your reach, the most annoying brother in the world was grinning broadly at you. “I will punch you in the fucking throat…” you threatened. This only made John laugh harder and he threw the book over your head towards Arthur who caught it nimbly. “How about me, little sister,” Arthur said playfully, “Are you going to cut me?” With a sigh you turned around and made another failed attempt at grabbing the book. Arthur threw the book back at John and a little game had started that you had no energy for. Still, you wanted that fucking book. “Forget the book, Y/N,” Ada commented from behind her own book, “Let them have their fun.”

But you were too stubborn for your own good, “I’ll be damned if I let them win…” which gave rise to more laughter from your brothers. So you grabbed the nearest tea towel and threw it in Arthur’s face. Before he could remove it, you pounced and actually felt the book beneath your fingers now. Polly paused her work and watched the scene with interest, partially because it was sweet, in a very Shelby manner, and partially because she wanted to put a stop to it before her kitchen got destroyed. You were so close, but Arthur grabbed you around your waist and managed to get the book back to John. Now you were well and truly stuck. “Right, what now?” he teased in a low voice. “Get the fuck off!” you screamed, when John walked over to you and dangled the book in front of you. Stretching out your arms as much as you could, you could almost reach it. But John, evil as he was, used his other hand to tickle your ribs and you immediately crumpled down in Arthur’s arms. The second brother soon joined in and now you were being attacked by two pairs of hands. You dissolved in a mess of giggles within seconds and there was nothing you could do. Sliding down onto the floor, with very little hope of rescue from your sister or aunt, you were at their mercy completely. And then, like some miracle, Ada intervened. She grabbed John by the collar and pulled him back. You gasped for breath as soon as you could. “She’s had enough, John,” Ada said sternly, “Back off, or you’re next.” Arthur looked down on you with a huge grin on his face, “Ada, we both know she can take much more than that…” “Noo!” you whined and without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you rolled away on your stomach across the kitchen until you bumped into your aunt. “Should’ve punched him in the throat,” she said softly to you. “Don’t be a baby!” John called out, “It’s your own fault.” “How the fuck is it my fault?” you replied indignantly from the floor. “For being so fucking sensitive,” John grinned. Arthur joined in, “That’s right. Just turn it off.” You rolled your eyes almost audibly.

John scoffed and pushed Ada away, “You’re fourteen now, Y/N. Time to learn.”

Polly turned around swiftly, “Oh, like you ever did!”

“What?” your head shot up.

Ada looked at you with a smirk, “What, you thought you were the only one?”

As you got to your feet, Polly helped you up and said meaningfully, “That’s the real family curse, sweetheart.”

Years of them pinning you down and teasing you bubbled up in frustration, “Are you saying that I’ve been going through torture for all these years, thinking that it was just me, when all this time…”

Arthur shrugged, “You’re the youngest and smallest. Comes with the territory.”

“Besides, we’re stronger,” John added smugly. He was right of course, which made it all the more annoying.

Polly threw down the washing cloth and theatrically said, “Welcome to the Shelby family, feared by all in Birmingham and where everyone is ticklish as fuck!” Your entire worldview had been altered in seconds. Apparently this wasn’t news to your siblings, because they all looked completely unimpressed by this bit of information, while you stood there with your mouth hanging open in surprise. After thinking about all of this for a while, you asked, “Even Tommy?” “When we were kids we used to make fun of him,” John recalled with a glint in his eyes, “It’s just his ribs, but if you poke him suddenly, he literally jumps.” “He went absolutely feral,” Arthur nodded. An idea was taking shape in your head, “Would that still work, you think?” “You’ll only get yourself killed,” Ada commented in her usual bored tone of voice. “Do it!” John urged, “Come Ada, you know she’ll get away with it.” You and John had always been the most mischievous in the family and you shared a look with a similar twinkle in your eyes. You finally knew something Tommy didn’t know. This was your one chance to catch Thomas Shelby by surprise. ***

For the next couple of days, you tried to get your brother alone. It was strange, because on the one hand you couldn’t wait to try out your plan. Envisioning how he would react was brilliant already, but the feeling of power you had was even greater. However, you also feared his reaction. Thomas Shelby was a busy man and he had very little time for anyone these days. When he did spend time with you, it was short and it often involved him reprimanding you. In all honesty, you were a little scared of him, but not scared enough to let a prank like this one go to waste. You’d deal with the consequences, whatever they were.

John might’ve been even more excited than you were and whenever Tommy left to go somewhere on his own, he motioned you frantically to follow him. Finding the right time proved almost impossible though. So you decided just to get on with it. This was the day you would find out if your brother shared the family curse. Unfortunately, he’d been in a bad mood all day. He’d called a family meeting at breakfast and had left quickly after that. They’d all reconvene in the evening. Dodging all your other responsibilities, you shadowed Tommy for most of the day, but he had one business meeting after the other. His mood was getting darker and darker, and you began to wonder if you were actually suicidal. But then, unexpectedly, you found yourself alone with him outside. “Y/N,” he said strictly, “Tell me what’s going on.” You’d come outside for some peace, because today was one of the busiest days at the shop and you’d had enough of the noise. Outside, you planned on reading your book and you’d forgotten about Tommy for a minute. Until he had appeared suddenly. “Nothing,” you said, looking up.

“Then why have you been following me all day, eh?” He sounded annoyed almost and all courage left you.

Improvising quickly, you said, “Missed you at dinner last Sunday.” “I was there,” he lit a cigarette and sat down next to you on the stone steps.

“For five whole minutes…”

“There was business to attend to.” “And there’s family to attend to as well,” you replied, without missing a beat. Silently, he side-eyed you and a small smirk played around his lips, “You’re right, I’ll do better next week. Am I forgiven?” “No,” you feigned anger. He turned his head towards you and he smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

The bond you had with Tommy was a complicated one. In many ways you were very similar, but the war had changed him the most. Sometimes you felt like you’d lost him completely, when you thought of how you used to talk and laugh with him when you were younger. These moments were so rare now. And these exact thoughts did the trick and you decided that you had to be the one to make that old Tommy come back, if only a little. So you said a silent prayer, decided not to overthink it and poked him in the ribs once. The effect was immediate. Thomas Shelby shot up and nearly rocketed himself off the steps. With a wild look of betrayal he turned his eyes on you and you almost burst out laughing. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” you asked innocently.

He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and sat back down. Apparently, we’re pretending this never happened, you thought.

A few seconds of awkward silence later, you poked him again. This time, a small yelp escaped him. The most feared gangster in Birmingham yelped, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing any longer.

As you were still trying to regain composure, Tommy pointed at you with a menacing finger, “Do that again and you will not live to tell the fucking tale.” You could only snort in reply. He was trying so hard to act all scary and while that had an effect on most people, you just couldn’t be bothered right now: It was too funny. Besides, you thought you could detect just a hint of mirth behind those pale blue eyes and decided to risk everything on just that.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows, “Do it again, I fucking dare you, and see what happens.” So you did it again.

In a flash, he was up and dove for you. But you were faster and jumped out of the way. Like the two of you were a part of a bad play, you started circling each other around the small yard. Neither said a word and seconds felt like hours. Then Arthur called from inside the house, “Tom!”

“You called a family meeting,” you reminded him, while relaxing a little at the prospect of escape.

Tommy’s eyes stayed on you and he cleared his throat again, “Fuck, alright. You’re coming with me.” And he lifted you up and threw you over one shoulder. Your shrieks filled the house as he walked through the betting den, over to the table where the family was already gathered, with you still on his shoulder. Without blinking, the leader of the Peaky Blinders announced, “Right, well you’re all here. Let’s talk business quickly…” Aunt Polly pointed vaguely at your arse, which was sticking up in the air, “You do realise you have my niece in your arms?” “Well aware, Poll,” Tommy continued, like it was the most normal thing in the world, “Business! We’ve done well this week. John’s shown me the books and we’re making more money than ever. Next week, we’re buying a new horse and I’m going to race her.” Flabbergasted, the family stared at Tommy. You could see the million questions on their faces, but they decided to wait until he was done talking. You had also refrained from protesting by now. “Poll, as treasurer I need your permission to buy the horse.” She blinked a few times and mumbled, “Buy the horse. Y/N‘s still…” Tommy held up a hand, “Not finished,” and everyone closed their mouths again, “John, I need you to talk to that old widow down the road. She’s recently lost her son and she should become part of our fund. Arthur, for fucks sake, get the books from the Garrison in order.” “It’s those bloody numbers, Tom…” Arthur grumbled in reply. “Are we all clear on what to do?” Tommy finished off in a hurry. When no one replied, he answered for them, “Good!” With this he plucked you down from his shoulder and held you in his arms bridal style. With a grave and business-like tone he announced, “As you all know, this is Y/N Shelby, youngest member of the family. While we were away in France, she kept the fort and she has often provided us with some relief in times of stress ever since we’ve come back. But not anymore.” John started to get nervous and looked from you to Tommy. Had they gone too far this time? But then he saw Arthur grinning and even Ada had a small smile on her face, so he knew Tommy was only playing. “Gentlemen,” Tommy continued, “This is the day that Y/N Shelby dies. Say goodbye to your sister.”

And that’s when you decided not to await your fate, so you made a sudden movement and jumped out of Tommy’s arms. Dashing past the table, you sought refuge behind Polly’s back.

“Told you this would happen, Y/N,” Ada said, not helping at all.

For some reason, Polly got up and left the room, while stating triumphantly, “The secret’s out, Thomas. Deal with it.” Now you just had an empty chair for protection. Tommy pointed at you directly and practically growled, “And it’s going back in.” With three of the largest steps he was at your side once again.

So you held up your hands, “Okay, wait, I can explain.”

“Too late, little sister,” Tommy said in a low voice, “These are family secrets that are not spoken of.”

“You’re such a drama queen, Tommy,” your sister commented, while getting up to leave. And all you could think was: why would you leave me alone with these mad bastards?

You really should’ve known better but decided to go for the cocky approach, “There’s no point in trying to scare me now, Tommy, knowing what I know.” You raised your eyebrows in an attempt to show him you were still in control. You weren’t. In a flash he’d tackled you to the floor and had you pinned down, while whispering ominously, “You picked the wrong brother to fuck with, Y/N Shelby.”

And for the second time in a week, you cursed your own sensitive skin as dexterous hands attacked your sides. Incapable of little but laughing and screaming, you flailed around hopelessly. Tommy’s face was slowly softening into a smile as well.

“Tommy!” you pleaded between giggles, “It was John, not me!” “Was it now?” he taunted without stilling his fingers, “And who was the fool to listen to his ideas, eh?” He moved up to your ribs, which made the pitch of your laughter increase. “Toohoohoom! Wait!”

Now, it was no secret that your major weakness in life was your sensitivity. Usually it was John who took the most advantage of it, being the mad joker that he was, but he often got Finn or Arthur to join in. Arthur on his own could be absolutely brutal, which was due to his strength as well, so there was no hope for you at all. Ada didn’t bother much, but when she did, she was merciless, much like Polly. But Tommy, he was a whole other story. You didn’t have many moments like this with him anymore, but when he did play and did get his hands on you, it was hell. He knew exactly how to reduce you to a small heap of giggles, pleading for your life and regretting all life choices up to that point. And this was happening right now. His smile was widening and he shook his head, “You thought you could beat me, eh?” “Yeheeeheees,” you admitted. Then he stopped for a second, allowing you to breathe, “Alright, you little devil, I’ll give you one a chance to speak.”

Residual giggles were pouring from your mouth, “Never… listen… to… John.” Tommy looked up at his younger brother who was showing zero remorse on his face, and he nodded slowly, “Good. What else?” “I’ve learned that Thomas Shelby sounds like a girl when…” but you never got to finish that sentence, as he continued his assault.

“Wrong answer. And you are way to ticklish to have an attitude like that, Y/N,” he said calmly.

As he dragged your arms up and dug his hands under your arms, you squeezed your eyes shut, “NOOOO, I’M SOOHOORYYY!” “Are you?” he asked, now smiling broadly at your reaction, “Then tell me what you’ve fucking learned from this, eh?” “YOU DON’T FUCK WITH THE PEAKY BLINDERS!” you managed to shout out between laughs. “That’s right,” Arthur commented, watching the scene while sitting back in his chair, “Finally, she gets it.” Tommy paused and looked at both of his brothers, as if he was waiting for their verdict. “Nah,” John decided to cause more trouble, “I don’t think she has…” Still struggling unsuccessfully to get out of Tommy’s grasp, you shouted, “John, shut your fucking mouth or I swear to God…” Tommy rolled his eyes and interrupted you, “Get her, boys,” he called out, “Let’s teach our sister some respect for her brothers.” So now there were three brothers trying to keep you in place, while you were being tickled from all sides. Why did you listen to John? Why did you not know better than to challenge Tommy? Spluttering, kicking and fighting like crazy, you managed to kick them a little bit at least, but the fact that they were all grinning down on you still meant that it didn’t help much.

Tears leaking out of your eyes, you shrieked, “YOOOUAAHAHAH AHAHAHALL SUAHAHACK!”

Then Tommy stopped them and crossed his arms in front of him. The amusement was twinkling in his eyes, “Had enough?” “Yep,” you said quickly, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Whatever Polly has told you,” he widened his eyes and brought his face close to yours, “Family secrets are not spoken of.” “Fine!” you called out, “They’re not spoken of.” His smile grew again, “Remember this, Y/N. And remember this was nothing compared to what we can do and what I will do, if you ever feel the need to cross Thomas fucking Shelby again.” You got up, again, and brushed yourself off while sending a death-stare to each of your brothers. But when Tommy smiled at you, there was a certain warmth to it that you hadn’t seen in ages.

“Wankers…” you mumbled carefully. Tommy smirked slightly, “You brought this upon yourself, Y/N. Now you know what happens…” “…when you fuck with the Peaky Blinders. Bladibladibla…” you finished his sentence. Making your way to the door, you turned back for a moment, “To be fair, Tommy, I did just saw you jump up about a foot because you’re actually fucking ticklish. So much for the whole gangster act, I should say.” Tommy’s eyes narrowed, John burst out laughing and Arthur managed to shout out a quick “Oi!” And before anyone could react, you sprinted away. Somehow, this still felt like a victory. Sure, you were the youngest and probably the most sensitive in the family, but you had discovered your own weapon now. John would be next, just for setting you up. Arthur would involve more planning. But finding Tommy’s weakness, that was the real triumph. Behind you, you could hear Tommy sit down and sigh, “Well, boys, we’re well and truly fucked now…”

And you grinned to yourself. The game was on.

***

Masterlist

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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years

Note

would u possibly do some NSFW morbell? where they're up in colter ( i loved ur original morbell post on them ) pls do more as i love ur blog 💛

this is an absolute mess oml i literally have no idea how to write anything smutty but here we go i guess. I love this pair but i kinda went off topic and centred this on a praise kink for micah. ANYWAY this is probably terrible since i'm melting, its literally 40 degrees and the aircon is broken so its unedited af and i wont look at it again until i have a cold drink. but pls enjoy some morbell <333

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

‘Cold up in Colter’

Fuck, what a mess Blackwater had been. The Pinkertons were on them faster than ever and they found themselves fleeing from a blood bath.

That was almost three days ago and Micah hadn’t had an ounce of sleep. He’d been sent out with John to scout ahead, having found a homestead which ended up burning at the hand of O’Driscoll’s. Okay maybe house burning down was his fault but he tends to make stupid decisions when he’s had little to know sleep. And it was so fucking cold.

That didn’t stop heat rising to his face when he felt Arthur’s hands on his shoulder, pushing him back with a roughness he could only wish for in another way. Damn Arthur Morgan and his ability to have Micah curling in on himself and blushing like a virgin at the mere thought of a hand on his shoulder.

He should hate Arthur, really the two are nothing more than rivals, competing for the spot of Dutch Van Der Linde’s right hand. At the beginning, almost six months ago now, Micah couldn’t stand the sight of the man but somehow that anger tapered off into something more akin to admiration and that admiration slowly turned to desire.

He’ll never admit to how badly he wants Arthur but he won’t deny however that he’s pushed the man’s buttons more than once just to have an interaction with him. All he had to do start a silly argument over camp earnings or a bet at five finger fillet to have the man shaking him by the collar and threatening to break his nose.

It almost always ended with Micah sneaking off into the woods with half a bottle of whiskey and his pants bunched around his ankles as he thought of the way Arthur roughed him up by his shirt collar. Fuck he was pathetic sometimes.

There were other occasions where the two had actually managed to get along and that’s what pissed Micah off more than any threats of violence. Arthur just had to go and bring him a beer as he grabbed one for himself, letting their fingers touch accidentally. Or he went and offered him a seat by the fireplace where they ended up much to close for his comfort. Damn Arthur for always leaving him short of breath with a hole in his heart.

Despite what Micah did to impress Dutch, Arthur was still the camp’s favourite by a mile and he never failed to outcompete him in the eyes of the gang. Micah never minded much, not looking for anyone’s approval, but the thought of proving himself to Arthur, of being worthy of his praise is enough to have his wild side reined in.

Naturally that didn’t stop Micah from losing it from time to time and wasn’t surprised when his jealousy shot up again as Miss Grimshaw announced Arthur got his own cabin while he shared with the rest of the fellers. And he’d be damned if he had to share a room with Williamson who didn’t stop snoring.

That’s why he found himself huddled in the makeshift stables, choosing instead to wrap himself in his coat and down a bottle of whiskey to wait the night out. He cold planks he was sitting on offered little comfort and the draft in the room had his lip shaking. But at least he wouldn’t have anyone in his hair and he’d be left alone, just the way he liked it.

Of course that didn’t last long when the cranky wooden door was barged open, spooking some of the horses in the opposite end of the room. A broad figure entered the room, blocking most of the door way but that didn’t stop to whoosh of cold air flood into the room, draining even more colour from his face.

It wasn’t until the door was closed and the man stepped closer when he realised it was Arthur.

“Micah? What the hell are you doing in here?”

Arthur sounded surprised, with only a hint of concern in his voice.

“Sleepin’— what the hell ya doing here Morgan?”

There wasn’t much of a response from Arthur, only a quiet noise which was barely heard over the whistle of the wind between the planks. He walked over to the horses, checking over them and ensuring none of them were freezing to death. Micah watched in silence, scared to disturb the man as he patted along Taima’s neck.

It wasn’t until after Arthur had checked over all the horses did he turn his attention to Micah.

Micah watched as Arthur’s gloved hand extended out and offered itself to him, he hesitated before taking before taking it and being pulled to his feet. Arthur’s hand draped over his shoulder which he didn’t realise had shaking in an effort to keep warm, having drunk the remaining whiskey from the bottle.

“Common now, yer gonna freeze in here alone.”

Micah dug his heels into the ground, not allowing Arthur to pull him any further to the door as he tried to hold his voice steady. He’d be damned if he ever let Arthur know just how much he affected him.

“I ain’t sharing a bunk with Williams—“

Arthur tutted, pulling Micah out the door as he pushed him towards his cabin in the snow storm.

“Quit yer yapping, you’re sharing with me and I ain’t having any more folk die tonight. Now let’s go.”

Arthur didn’t utter another word until they were well and truely in his room, wrapped in a blanket that was barely big enough for the two of them. The bed wasn’t much bigger, having been made for one person which was evident by Arthur pressing against Micah’s back in efforts for them to fit. The only thing that kept them apart was the fabric of their jackets, otherwise Arthur would probably hear Micah’s heartbeat which was beating much to fast for his liking.

The uncomfortable silence was broken when Micah cursed under his breath which caused his teeth to chatter and Arthur spoke up.

“Yer still cold, c'mere”

Micah’s breath fell short as Arthur’s hands slid under his coat, resting his hands on his tummy to use his body heat as a source of warmth. In doing so Arthur had moved even closer, ensuring Micah’s back was flush against his chest.

Despite that Micah wanted to protest, to go straight to his default of arguing he couldn’t help but feel as he began to warm up and he slowly relaxed under his hands.

A blush rose high on his cheeks as Arthur also relaxed into their embrace, accidentally letting his hands drift lower until he felt the hard press of Micah’s straining erection against his knuckle.

Micah instantly sucked in a breath, panicking and trying to push his way out of Arthur’s hold.

“Shit Arthur I—“

Micah froze as Arthur gently pulled him back to the bed and rubbed slow circles along his stomach.

“S’alright Micah, I’m not mad…”

Arthur held him close, letting him relax before talking again before he whispered right into the shell of his ear.

“…This what you want? Is this why you’re always staring at me from across camp, why yer always picking fights and asking me to robberies?”

A high pitched noise left Micah as he shivered, feeling Arthur’s hot breath against his ear. His blush deepened as he pushed back slightly into him, whimpering at the feel of Arthur’s own erection pressed against his ass.

Fuck it, he thought as heat pooled in his abdomen and he finally allowed himself to have the one thing he’d been craving for months. He nodded frantically, grinding back onto Arthur’s clothed dick and squirming in his grip.

“Relax boy, gonna give you everything you’ve been waiting for— just be good and you’ll get it”

Micah nodded in agreement, a needy, desperate sound leaving him at the promise of praise. He wanted, no needed to be praised by the man so badly that he’d do anything for an ounce of it from the man.

“Oh god Arthur! I need it, need you. Fuck I can be good I promise.”

He knew he was probably being too loud but apart of him didn’t have it in him to care. He moaned softly as Arthur moved him to roll onto his back, towering over him but ensuring they were still kept under the blanket.

Arthur spent the next ten minutes undressing him without exposing much of his skin to the cold. He unbuttoned the lower buttons of his leather jacket, enough for Arthur to work his fly down and pull one pant leg off. He whined pitifully, grabbing at the lapels of Arthur’s coat in a silent plea for him to undress him properly.

Micah mentally scolded himself at just how desperate he was for Arthur to rip his clothes off and fuck him like a bitch in heat but he knew that wasn’t happening any time soon. Arthur however caught on pretty quickly to what he wanted, it seemed the man knew just what made him tick.

“I know sweetheart, once we’re well and truly outta here I’ll get us a room and we can do this properly.”

Micah’s eyes beamed at the thought of Arthur taking him to a hotel in the future, panting as his mind raced with images of Morgan making him fall apart on his cock for hours on end.

While Micah was busy in his mind, Arthur took the opportunity to retrieve the gun oil from his satchel. It certainly wasn’t the best option but it was their only choice with their limited supplies.

Arthur draped himself back over Micah’s body, kissing at his jaw and nibbling as he coated his fingers. The air was cold, only making the oil feel colder as he slowly dipped his index finger past Micah’s rim.

A devilish grin came to Arthur’s face as he heard Micah sigh and take his finger easily, deciding to work his way up to two sooner than he was expecting.

“You’ve wanted this for a long time haven’t you? I saw you once, bout a week ago. Head down, ass up with three of yer fingers inside you while you cried out for me to fuck you. It all clicked in my head then when you started acting different around me at camp.”

Micah flushed a deep red, coughing on air as he realised Arthur knew about his little crush. He tried to think of an excuse, to weasel his way out of it but his thoughts died in his head when Arthur twisted his fingers, scissoring and stretching him open before adding a third.

Arthur dragged a lip along Micah’s cheek to his lip, ghosting his lips over his before kissing him properly. This time Micah didn’t even try to fight for dominance, opening his mouth instantly for Arthur’s tongue to enter. Instead he sighed into it, pulling his legs to wrap around his waist as his hands wrapped around his lover’s shoulder.

It went on like that until Arthur was satisfied that Micah was well prepped enough, simultaneously rubbing against Micah’s prostate while he kissed him deeply. He only pulled away to pull his own leaking member out, bunching his pants around his thighs so he had enough room to move but could stay warm. He coated the rest of the oil onto his member, jerking slowly as he stared down at the sight of Micah below him.

Micah looked like an absolute mess against the pillows already, his face was flush and the scarf around his head had unwrapped slightly, revealing his disheveled blond hair. His chest was heaving as he panted and his thighs shook from pleasure as the weakly wrapped around his waist.

“You look so pretty like this sweetheart”

To say that Micah hated the pet name was a lie, one that he didn’t try deny as he moaned softly. His back arched and he gripped Arthur’s coat tightly as he felt his cock slide between his cheeks and over his hole. He’s wanted this for so long now and yet somehow it still didn’t quite feel real as his mind was clouded with arousal.

Micah’s toes curled and he moaned when he felt Arthur push into him, slowly inching forward until he felt him bottom out.

“Ah— ah! Oh Arthur fuck! Please fuck me, I’ll be good I swear.”

Micah practically sobbed with pleasure as Arthur set up a fast pace, pulling almost all the way out till just the tip was left inside his tight hole before pushing back in quickly, brushing his prostate in the process. His cock twitched from where it rested against his tummy, pinned between Arthur’s jacket which caused a string of moans to fall from his mouth.

“Look at you, so good for me— fucking perfect Micah. Such a good boy”

Arthur’s hands came to hold onto Micah’s hips for leverage, pulling on his slight muffin top under the jacket to help pull him back to meet his thrusts. Beneath him he heard Micah whine and whimper at the praise so desperately needed to hear.

Micah bought a finger up to his mouth, biting on his knuckle to silence any more noises he deemed to be pathetic from slipping out of him. He hated how close he already was just from being praised by Arthur.

It seemed Arthur wasn’t having any of it when he pulled his finger away from his mouth before kissing him like he had done not that long ago. He swallowed every one of Micah’s noises, mindful of Dutch sleeping next door and slowing his thrusts to something deeper and slower.

His hands roamed all over Micah’s clothed body, breaking away for air and whispering praises down his ear.

“That’s it, make those pretty noises for me sweetheart.”

Micah eye’s rolled into his head as he cried out.

“You’re mine, all for me— my good boy.”

More moans slipped from his lips.

“Atta boy— taking me so well, so good.”

His back arched and he withered in his embrace

“So eager to please aren’t you? I’ll take care of you now boy.”

“—Arthur! I’m close— Ah, I’m gonna—“

“Go on sweetheart cum for me…that’s it good boy.”

Micah’s whole body when rigid as he finally came. His mouth hung open, tongue lolling out as his orgasm dragged out with each thrust Arthur delivered, eager to chase his own.

He collapsed into the pillow, thighs shaking as he whined at the oversensitivity. It didn’t last long before Arthur’s thrusts changed pace to something more erratic, picking up the pace as he spilled his load inside him.

Arthur groaned into his neck, pulling him close and collapsing into him as he regained his breath.

He pulled out slowly with a wet and obscene pop, sitting up and helping Micah put his clothes back on. Micah only weakly managed to fiddle with the button on his jacket while Arthur gently manhandled his jelly-like limbs to fit back into his pant leg. He used the blanket to wipe the cum off his tummy, a weak attempt at cleaning up and something they would both no doubt regret come tomorrow morning but for now they were keen to sleep after such a horrific and chaotic few days.

Arthur pulled Micah into their original position for the night, the only difference being that his face was now tucked into his chest. Arthur rested his chin of Micah’s head, littering his hair with kisses as he played with his hair between his rough fingers.

Micah was the first to fall asleep, curled up with his forehead against Arthur’s collarbone. Arthur wasn’t far behind him either, finally letting himself get some much needed rest but not before he pressed a soft kiss to his hairline.

#morbell #micah bell #arthur morgan

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itsapapisongo · 3 years

Text

“AS YOU WISH”

Pairing: Johnny x Female Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2.0K

Parental Advisory Note: The following contains explicit content like slight choking, language, and masturbation (fingering, clitoral stimulation). This is purely for entertainment and this in no way represents who Johnny is in real life or accurately portrays foreplay/sex/intimacy between two consenting adults.

Author’s Notes: This is a second attempt at writing smut—the first, featuring Hwang Hyunjin is still in development—and it came into fruition to see if a) I could make it work and b) tease Ro (@binniesthighs). What first started as a small scene sort of transitioned into something a bit longer. I wasn’t going to post it but after some encouragement from Ro and some feedback from I decided to just share it as a way to get it out my system. Hope you enjoy it. #HardHours.

PS: Special shout-out to @binniesthighs, @hanflix, @satanssmuts, @lilixeu, and @moonlit-lixie for being incredibly supportive and beta reading this. You are all amazing so this is kind of a Valentine’s Day gift for all the advice and support you’ve given me. I’m beyond grateful.

To set a Mood: Thirsty by Taemin.

AS THESE stories often begin, this one starts in the middle of something.

In this case, it starts in the middle of the night—a bit past midnight—when you hear frantic knocking on your front door and open it to find Johnny smiling down at you. The height difference is noticeable so it’s not unfair to say that, well, you quite literally don’t see eye to eye.

He’s dripping wet, from head to toes, hunched over, and trying his best to speak as his entire body shudders. Not wasting time, you reach out, pull him into the apartment, close the door behind you, and chuckle when you hear him mumble a sheepish “thank you.”

“Better get a change of clothes before you catch a cold,” you say, gesturing toward your bedroom.

Johnny nods and chuckles. “Sure,” he replies, teeth clattering. “How about a shower first?”

“Do you even have to ask?” You raise an eyebrow and giggle when he shrugs. “Mi case es tu casa.”

“Oof,” Johnny exclaims, holding himself a bit tighter, waddling towards your room. “Gracias.”

You can’t help but smile. This is the man you’re dating and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

ABOUT TWENTY minutes later, nothing has changed.

It looks like it’s going to be one those nights where it’s colder than usual and it won’t stop raining anytime soon. You smile because rainy days with Johnny are usually days where you both seek warmth from one another; days where you can be lazy and not feel guilty about that.

And as you join him in the living room, watching him sit on the futon, you think to yourself if it rains, it pours—but, y’know, without all the shit about one misfortune after another because the phrase here only applies to the deluge outside your apartment window.

Johnny sits with his head thrown back against the wall, legs spread so that they almost reach the knee-level coffee table he bought in Ikea and spent the good part of an afternoon putting together. He’s bathed, dressed, and unwinding after a shift that was longer than expected. He still smells of coffee, not too strong but enough that you can smell it as you sit next to him and kiss his neck. His eyes flutter open and a knowing smile spreads between his lips, eyes glistening with mischief.

“Well, well, well,” he whispers, half-smiling. “Mi futon es tu futon.”

“Is that so?”

He nods. “Definitely.”

“Do you know of any fun activities that—“ You lean in, meet his gaze, then slowly kiss him in the lips. “—I’d be interested in while I crash on your futon?”

“Our futon,” Johnny corrects you. “I can think of several,” he asserts, his voice suddenly low. There’s a hint of dominance when he speaks again, “But instead of talking, I can just show you.”

“Show me—“ You begin but can’t finish because he leans in and kisses you.

His right hand holds your chin, the left caresses your thighs, slowly but surely making its way to your core. Johnny doesn’t ask or hesitate to spread your legs, his left hand suddenly playing with the waist-band of your lingerie. His touch is delicate yet firm, his movements paced and deliberate. He kisses you softly then roughly, as his right hand transitions from your chin to your neck and stays there; his fingers envelope your neck, compressing every so often but not quite choking you.

Feeling his light touch on your skin, a moan escapes your lips and you immediately crave him. Your eyes are closed, your breathing uneven, your entire body tingling as his digits linger so close to your pussy. You feel him lean closer and closer, his breath warm against your ear, and you shudder when he speaks in a low, alluring voice.

“What’s the point of talking when I can just do it, right?” Johnny bites your earlobe then lightly kisses your cheek, gradually descending to leave marks on your neck and left shoulder. He stops to lift your chin, leaning close to whisper, “Look at me.”

“Johnny—“

“Look at me,” he repeats, firm but not unkindly.

You oblige and see him staring at you. And while there’s lust in his eyes, you notice that he’s not simply looking but admiring. His eyes take you in—up and down, down and up—and a smile appears between his lips; a knowing, lustful, loving smile that makes you want him even more.

“Are you gonna stare or are you going to make me yours?”

The question slips out before you can stop yourself. He raises an eyebrow, his expression that of someone who’s surprised and amused. You’d try and fail to infuse confidence in your voice but instead it comes across as a needy and impatient demand.

Johnny notices and smiles even wider, eyes narrowing with malice. “As you wish,” he says.

MOST OF your clothing, both yours and his, are off: on the floor, neglected, no longer needed.

Johnny is behind you, legs spread to accommodate you. With his left hand he cups your breasts and teases you with his right. He’s leaving marks on your shoulder, lightly biting on your skin after each kiss, whispering ‘I love you’s and commenting on how wet you are. He tells you in a low, sultry voice how much that turns him the fuck on, how he’s going to take his time, and how euphoric you will feel soon. Your moans elicit such a strong response from him that you feel his cock throb against his jogger pants.

He lifts your neck, leans in so that you’re facing him, and hold your chin with a firm grip. Johnny looks at you, eyes narrowed, then his lips brushed against yours; it starts rough, passionate, as if this might be the last one you share, then gradually softens until he’s once again leaving traces on your neck. His left hand envelopes your neck, a stable but dominant gesture; with his thumb against your jaw, he lifts your neck once more and smirks at you.

Motherfucker, you think, mouth agape as you feel his right hand swiftly undress you, dexterously taking off your lingerie. With an idle gesture of his wrist, you hazily make out your panties fall to the ground but you don’t get too think too much of it because you feel his digits caress your pussy, hovering above your labia.

“I want you in me,“ you say, gasping. “Now.”

“As you wish,” he whispers in a low, haughty tone. He tentatively rubs your labia then brings his right hand forward and offers it to you, his index and middle finger inches away from your mouth. “Open wide.”

You suck on his fingers, lick them when he pulls them from your mouth, watch in awe as he directs them back to your pussy; the moment he introduces them in you, his thumb softly rubbing your clit, you tense up and immediately relax, moaning a whiny yet indecent “fuck!” as he very slowly fingers you. He’s left hand is still wrapped around your neck, his thumb still lifting your head so that you’re maintaining eye contact.

“You like this, don’t you?” Johnny whispers not before nibbling on your earlobe then leaving a love-bite on your neck. “Love the way I’m inside you, making you mine?”

“Fuck—Johnny—fuck, don’t stop!”

He smirks. The motherfucker smirks. “Who said anything about stopping, darling?”

You gasp and collapse against him, feeling his erection on your lower back; this only adds to your euphoria because you know he’s enjoying the fuck out of this. You know he can’t wait to fuck you silly and that keeps you going, that keeps you yearning his touch because eventually it won’t be his fingers inside you.

Johnny’s driving you close to the edge—fucking teasing you, building up, taking his time—when he unwraps his hand from your neck. He pauses briefly to adjust his position behind you but his right hand haven’t left your pussy; is fingers are still there, you still feel his fingers in your core—moving in and out, out and in, slow as fuck but nonetheless pleasurable as hell.

He lifts you up, enough so that you’re sitting on his lap instead of between his legs, and wraps his entire left arm around your neck; his palm rests on your right shoulder, the crook of his neck having replaced the hand that a second ago was gripping your throat. Johnny does all of this without breaking his stride, swiftly, with the experience of a man that embraces balance.

“You think you can last, baby? Think you won’t cum yet?”

“You—ah shit—you keep this up and I’m gonna cum.”

“Soon, baby, soon. Hold on a little while longer,” he coaxes and you can feel his smirk, you can practically picture it. “I know you want to cum but I want you to enjoy this moment. Flow with it—“ he thrusts his fingers faster then pulls them out slow, to softly pinch your clit and rub it again with this thumb “—stay here, embrace this, and lose yourself in it.”

“You fucking—just like that—” your breathe hitches, caught in your throat.

You feel your entire body tighten, your back arch against his chest, against his hard cock, and you immediately grip the edges of the futon. Your body is shaking and you’re just embracing this sensation; flowing with it, losing yourself in it. He doesn’t stop—in fact, the motherfucker doubles down, moving faster, his grip around your neck tighter—and bites your earlobe as you moan louder and bite your lower lip to keep from bothering the neighbors.

“You wanna cum?”

You nod, unable to respond. Yes, you think, yes, fucking yes!

“You wanna cum, baby?”

Another nod but this one is feeble. You’re too caught up in the moment to speak, too lost in your pleasure to form a full, coherent sentence.

“I can’t hear you,” he whispers. “You wanna cum?”

“Yes!” You exclaim against his chest. “Please—fuck, Johnny—I wanna cum.”

“Look at me,” Johnny says in a firm tone, his hands moving slowly now. He moves so that you can face him and you see in his eyes that he’s enjoying every second of this. Just as you feel close to coming undone, like you can’t hold any longer, he purrs, “As you wish.”

And you do cum. Right in his hand, right in his fingers, because he doesn’t stop nor does he slow down. He keeps thrusting his fingers in your pussy, faster than before, then pulls them out to spank, grip, caress your thighs; his left hand lets go of your neck and instead steadies you by your stomach. Your entire body feels light, electrified, sensitive to contact, and yet you yearn for more. He knows it because you feel his touch on your clit and labia.

You collapse against him, smiling as you catch your breath. He moves you so that you’re both facing and straddling him. Johnny has that frustrating but irresistible shit-eating grin that crinkles his eyes and he sports whenever he’s proud of himself.

In between breaths, you smile. “Is that all?” you ask, trailing a finger across his chest.

Johnny’s grin falters but doesn’t disappear. It’s instead replaced by a look that you know very well; that look that says, I see your challenge, I’ll take it, and you’re gonna regret it.

“That was just one of the activities,” he replies with a wink. “Let me just—“ he moves again, lowering his pants with a wiggle, showing yet again how dextrous he is with making clothes disappear. “—get more comfortable.”

Johnny’s cock, hard and veiny, is on his hand, the tip glossy with precum. You lower yourself and sit on his thighs; the moment you make contact, you can’t help but hold back a small groan of pleasure. He’s warm and sweaty and ready for you just as you are ready for him. Johnny wiggles his eyebrows and strokes it, pleasuring himself, then bites his lip as his eyes linger on your figure.

“I could tell you about this activity—“ he takes your right hand and offers you his cock. “—but it’s best if I just show you.”

#johnny suh #johnny seo #johnny nct #johnny smut #nct smut #female reader #nct imagines #johnny imagines #johnny x female reader #teasing #johnny suh smut #johnny seo smut #happy valentine's day

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vizowrites · 3 years

Text

My BlitzStrike Twins: Headcanons and Shenanigans~ [probably with a bit of my M&M kids thrown in just for fun]

So today I got a couple of fantastic asks about Blitz and Striker as parents, and since there seemed to be a pretty positive response to them--and because @helluva-simp is amazing and encouraged me to be brave enough to write this up--I thought I’d go ahead and make a full post of my headcanons for these two little devils. I really do love the hell out of them and hope you guys enjoy hearing about them too!! <3 <3

Twist’s and Ty’s full names are Twister and Typhoon but literally nobody calls them by their full names ever so they like to make the joke of “the ‘-er’ and the ‘-phoon’ are silent”

Ty is actually the older of the two [though not by much] but everyone thinks that Twist is because his name is always called first. It’s always “Twist and Ty” [or just collectively “Twist-Ty”] instead of “Ty and Twist”. Ty honestly doesn’t mind that much as far as following after his brother goes, just don’t make the mistake of trying to label him as the younger of the two. There are a lot of things Ty’s perfectly content to let Twist take the lead in, but having the title of “the older twin” is just going too far.

Twist and Ty are mirror twins, meaning that they’re mostly identical except for a few key things: 1. Twist is left handed and Ty is right handed, 2. they both have heterochromia but Twist’s eyes are Left: Red | Right: Green-Gold whereas Ty’s eyes are Left: Green-Gold | Right: Red, 3. Twist has a birthmark on his right hand and Ty has his birthmark on his left hand--and yes when you put the two marks together, they form a design not unlike the heart shaped one on Blitz’s forehead :)

Both of the twins are incredibly agile, but Twist is faster and Ty is more flexible

Striker affectionately calls Twist “Whirlwind” because of said fastness

Blitz affectionately calls Ty “Noodle” because of said flexibility

.....Though it should be noted that it’s not all fun and games because Twist is CONSTANTLY crashing into things or tripping over his own two feet from going too fast, and Ty is so flexible that he’s able to contort himself into positions that honestly make both of his parents throw up a little in their mouths with the split-second panic of “OH GOD OUR BABY WAS BORN WITHOUT BONES!!” DX DX They’re both usually just fine tho!! :D

As noted in an earlier post--but I want to say it here too--Twist’s first word was “Bang!” and Ty’s first word was “Fuck!” Twist was the first one to talk, though, and it made Striker and Blitz second guess the context of his first word by the time Ty said his. XD

Another thing that was noted in another post but I want to put it here too is that Twist and Ty have incredibly high self esteem and both Striker and Blitz wouldn’t have it any other way

Twist is dyslexic and so gets easily frustrated when he has to read a book, but he love love LOVES the hell out of stories.....and so Ty is almost constantly making up random stories to tell him

This actually also works out well in Ty’s favor because Ty’s attention span is about as short as Blitz’s patience and he has a lot more fun telling stories than he does sitting still long enough to read the ones that other people made up unless it’s a book about something he’s reeeeeeally interested in

It’s also made Ty hella good at bullshitting on the fly, which I think most of the older/adult members of his family wish he was a lot less convincing at

Twist knows how to lie and is a natural at acting, but his flair for the over-dramatics tends to give him a way a lot easier than his twin

They both have what I’m calling a “hierarchy of obedience” within their family which really translates into a range of “eh I can think about maybe listening to this person sometimes” to “oh SHIT I need to listen to this person 5 fucking minutes ago”. For Twist, his hierarchy of obedience is: Millie --> Blitz --> Striker --> Loona --> Moxxie. For Ty, his hierarchy of obedience is: Loona --> Millie --> Blitz --> Striker.....and Moxxie doesn’t even make the list for him because honestly I’m pretty sure Ty just naturally tunes him out most of the time and not even fully on purpose. As he puts it: “You just have one of those voices”. XD

Ty can sleep literally anywhere and on anything. I’m pretty sure there have been mornings where Blitz and Striker have to play the game of 'Where the hell is my kid??' because they THOUGHT that he went to sleep in his bed like their other child did but NOPE they go into their room in the morning to get them out of bed and are just like, “.....Twist where the hell is your brother??” and Twist just gives an innocent shrug and says, “I don’t know--probably on the roof or something.” u3u and goes out into the kitchen to make himself breakfast--and then two seconds later Blitz and Striker hear him calling out “NEVER MIND! HE’S IN THE OVEN!!” and that starts off a whole new kind of panic because they know damn well that Twist’s favorite thing to have for breakfast is cinnamon rolls XD

Twist’s laughter is infectious--this really cute witch-like cackling that just bubbles out of him in the most adorably genuine way when he’s that delighted about someting

Ty does this adorable thing where--when he sticks his tongue out at someone--he flicks it in a very snake-like fashion and even gives the tiniest of hisses in lieu of a raspberry when he does it

Ty also manages to twist himself into the most uncomfortable-looking positions when he sleeps but rest assured, he’s never been more comfy

Twist’s tail never stays still. It is constaintly flicking to and fro, back and forth, swishing and swirling like a cat’s tail, and he loves flicking it in front of people’s faces to get their attention

Twist in general doesn’t really stay still very often but the one time he did was when Ty broke his arm--and then he spent almost every moment of the day and night plastered to his side because he knew it was driving Ty crazy not being as mobile as he usually is while having to wear a cast

The twins really don’t ever go that far apart from each other. If you look and only see the one, you can rest assured that the other one is around somewhere nearby and it’s probably not a good sign for you if you can only see the one.

Ty is much more of a biter when it comes to self-defense and Twist always goes straight to using his claws

Twist is the outwardly more protective twin and is vicious with his words when defending his brother. He will force every last ounce of moisture out of your body from how hard he makes you cry.

Ty, on the other hand, will fuck you up hard physically if you try to hurt his twin--and Lucifer himself would not be able to save you if you actually do hurt his twin

As they get older, and their sexualities and gender develop and grow, Twist would discover that he’s a nonbinary he/they homosexual panromantic and Ty would discover that he’s a genderfluid he/she pansexual homoromantic

The above being said, both Twist and Ty wholeheartedly say “fuck you and your gender norms” from a very young age and well into their teenage and adult years, with Twist enjoying painting his nails and Ty carrying all of his stuff around in a purse--and they both have a preference for wearing high heeled shoes [Ty because he just likes being tall in general and Twist because he likes being specifically taller than his parents because it drives them crazy XD]

Twist and Ty’s best friend is “Missi” [Moxxie and Millie’s eldest daughter, Missile] and she’s honestly an absolute hero for putting up with as many of their shenanigans as she does

Whenever they go out on family outings, Twist is that kid who just NEVER wants to leave--and so Blitz usually, after spending ten minutes of trying to get him in the damn van and Striker even using his Dad Tone (TM) and that not working, will just be like, “Alright kiddo, I tried playing nice. You asked for this.” And he puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles with a, “Loona Sweetie? Fetch.” >3 And Loona gets the BIGGEST grin on her face and Twist gets the biggest “oh shit I’m so fucking screwed” look on his face and Ty--who’s honestly probably very awkwardly coiled up in Striker’s arms because after a long day of family fun he’s tired af and decided that he doesn’t want to use his limbs anymore--just kind of looks over at his twin and says, “I believe in you, but also maybe try to run faster than last time” u3u

I think that they would both love their Auntie Barbie a lot and she would have soooooooo much fun teaching them different circus tricks--especially how to yeet each other back and forth on the trapeze XD

I also think that their Auntie Barbie would really love just how close they are.....and probably inspire her to make up for lost time in her relationship with her own twin too

For some reason I can’t shake the thought of the twins being great at acapella and I have no idea why but I’m also ttly here for it XD

In school, I feel like Twist’s favorite class would be Art [he loves to paint and happily makes all kinds of messes with his “expressing creativity”] and Ty’s favorite class would be P.E./Gym [because he loves testing the limits of his physical body]

Family game nights are always fun in their household because usually what happens is Twist and Ty team up against Blitz and Striker, and while they’re in the middle of duking it out, Loona ends up getting a monopoly on every street and is just like, “Pay up fuckers.” u3u

Moxxie and Millie both love and hate babysitting for the twins because on the one hand, they love them to pieces and love seeing how well they get along with their three kids, but on the other hand.....the twins keep finding Millie’s strap on and putting it on their middle child [Mark]’s head and calling him a “cockicorn” XD

Ty’s favorite food is ramen noodles and Twist spent three weeks [and probably set their kitchen on fire at least twice] learning how to make them with JUST the right flavor profile that he knows his brother likes the best

While I think both of the twins know that they can talk to their dads about anything, I think that they still keep their most personal thoughts reserved only to themselves and each other

Twist’s favorite type of weaponry tends to be more of the flashy ‘sharp and pointy’ kind whereas Ty’s favorite type of weaponry tends to be more of the aggressive ‘point and shoot’ kind. However I honestly kind of think that in terms of what they’d use themselves in the field, Twist’s primary weapon of choice would be a whip [though he would definitely have some throwing knives and handheld revolvers in his back pocket too] and Ty’s primary weapon of choice is honestly poisons. Assume that everything this kid has that he throws at you--be it a knife or a bullet or even a fucking cannonball--is poisoned somehow.

They both definitely play wrestle like Blitz and Barbie did as kids.....and just like Blitz and Barbie, they also get their horns tangled together more than once and need to have someone come rescue them. There’s almost always a photo taken that gets posted to Voxtigram first tho. XD

There are plenty more headcanons where this came from but I feel like this is already waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too fucking long so I’m going to go ahead and stop here for tonight!! If you guys are interested in hearing more about these two, please please please feel free to let me know and I’d be happy to write up a Part 2 to this, or just overall write up a quick little oneshot with them in it, or if you want to send me specific questions about them that I can answer, feel free to do so!! Thanks so much again and I hope you guys have as much fun reading these as I did writing them up!! <3 <3

#vizowritesheadcanons #BlitzStrike twins #ocs: Twist and Ty #BlitzStrike #Striker x Blitzo #Blitzo x Striker #Helluva Boss AU where Blitz and Striker are parents #I.M.P. family fun #kid AU

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icollectyoursins · 3 years

Text

Don!Giorno x Fem!Reader SFW

anon asked: “May I request a cute date with Don Giorno? Like he has a massive crush and finally gets the courage to ask her out and takes her on a fantastic romantic evening and it ends in a first kiss?”

I am SO sorry this took so long. I literally had no motivation until last night (feb 3).

Giorno had been dying to ask you on a date for a while now, but was never sure you would accept. Until now.

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: SFW, lots of fluff, sweet kisses.

Word Count: 1254

The creak of a handle turning followed by the fwoosh of water echoes throughout the bathroom. Giorno diligently washed his hands, trying his best to calm his nerves. She was only 10 minutes late. 10 minutes. That was it. She could still show up. She was so excited when he asked her out to dinner, why would she not show up? A dreamy image of your smile danced over his eyelids as he blinked. He would replay your joy over and over in his mind if he could.

He looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting his jacket; smoothing out the creases. Satisfied with his presentation, he walks out, carefully dodging the various servers and tables to get to yours, a little disappointed when you weren’t there. Drinks had already been laid out and a small basket of bread was placed at the centre of the table. He’d ordered you your favourite drink that he had remembered from a past conversation, hoping to impress you.

As calmly as he could, he sits at the table for another 5 minutes until he hears the host speaking to someone and a familiar voice. Suddenly, his heart starts to beat a little faster than he’s used to. He hears 2 pairs of footsteps before he sees anyone rounding the corner, one is of course the host, the other is unmistakably yours. The minute he sees your face, bright and elated, he’s standing up, moving to take your jacket.

“Gosh, I’m sorry. Traffic was terrible!” You say, smiling up at him as he pulls your chair out, placing the jacket over the back.

“I’m glad you could make it, (Y/N).” Hearing him say your name in his typical smooth voice gives you goosebumps every time.

Though it was no secret to certain members of your group of friends, you had tried to conceal your little crush on Giorno Giovanna for quite some time, worried he wouldn’t see you the same way or would be too busy with his work to consider a relationship. But then he asked you on a date! How could you say no? I mean, it was a dream come true!

“Did you order food already?” You asked, nodding to the basket of breadsticks.

“No, only drinks.” Your eyes drift to the glasses on the table, letting a small sound of shock, that made warmth spread throughout his body when you saw your favourite drink.

“How did you know?”

He chuckles softly. “You told me while we were out with Mista and Narancia at the sandwich shop.”

“Really? That was months ago! You remembered that?”

“Yes. Actually, I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, but I could never find the right time.”

“You must be busy now, um... Don Giorno.” You weren’t quite sure what to call him now. Don didn’t sit right with you, even if it was his title.

“Please, just Giorno,” he smiles at your politeness. You return with your own sweet grin.

You sat in silence for a little bit, admiring each other’s appearances. The waiter quickly took your orders, then rushed off to where ever they were needed. You looked around you, admiring the view from the balcony you were beside. The lights of various cars and houses twinkled on your glasses. Your date sat in wonderment at the white-yellow glow on your face, giving you a halo effect on your cheeks.

“You look lovely, (Y/N).” He said, still smiling. Internally he thought about how much he would give to see you like this every day. Much like you, he had been slowly but surely developing a crush on you. The more time you spent together, the happier he seemed to get, catching himself staring at you with a wistful smile on his face.

“Thank you. You also look good!” You replied a little too eagerly. Ah, that’s awkward. He doesn’t seem to mind though, chuckling lightly as your cheeriness.

The rest of the night carried on with light, pleasant conversation and delicious foods. Gradually, you got more comfortable being alone together, sharing more about each other’s personal life such as routines when you got home, what foods you enjoyed cooking, small things like that. You learned that Giorno enjoyed reading more than anything else, having a full library at home that you were a little jealous of if you were being totally honest.

Eventually, he asked for the bill, happily paying for the whole meal. Not that you expected anything less from a gentleman like him. You walked out of the restaurant with your arm wrapped around his, huddling close to him as you stepped out into the cold night. A car pulled up, assumedly for him. As you went to say your goodbye, he turned to you.

“Would you like a drive home?” He asked, sliding his hand down to yours and holding it gently. You were a little shocked, cheeks getting a little warm.

“Oh, um... yeah, sure!”

The door was opened as you were lead towards it, sliding in with Giorno in tow. You gave the driver your address, then continued your previous conversation from dinner, passing the time on your way home. It came quicker than you had anticipated, having been enjoying his company too much. You were a little disappointed, honestly. Did it really have to end so soon?

“Let me walk you in.” He said, opening the door on his side. Still holding onto your hand, he gently pulled you out, holding you close for a moment while closing it behind you. Your cheeks got hot again, a little nervous being so close to him. Slowly, you walked up the steps to your apartment, milking out the last of your time together.

The two of you stood in front of the door, turning towards each other. Your eyes locked with his beautiful green ones, getting lost in them.

“(Y/N).”

“Giorno.”

It was as if there were a magnet pulling your closer together until his breath tickled your face. Soft, but firm hands wrapped around your waist and neck, thumb brushing your jawbone, making you shiver. Not wasting another minute, you leaned in, pressing your lips into his. He tasted sweet. Not overly sweet, just-

He pulled you into him, pushing deeper into the kiss. Your knees went weak and suddenly you were thankful for the strength of his arms around you, holding you up.

Sweet.

All too soon, Giorno pulls away. Both of you were breathless from the feelings rushing over you. Cheeks burned hot, a harsh contrast to the cool night.

“Would you go on another date with me?” He asked softly.

God, you could barely talk, croaking out a “yes” before quickly pulling back and unlocking your door, a little shocked at the intimate and kind gesture.

“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He was about to walk away when he tenderly cupped your cheek in his hand, pulling you into another kiss. “Good night, (Y/N).”

And with that he was gone, trotting down the stairs to the car, bursting with a joyful satisfaction that he had never felt before. As Giorno slid into the car, he caught a look at his reflection, noticing a stain the same shade as your lipstick. He traced a finger over it, before pulling out a napkin. Whatever brand you used, it seemed to work well because the more he rubbed at it, the more it spread around the corner of his mouth, creating a larger stain. He could already hear Narancia and Mista’s laughter in his mind.

He smiled, looking back at your door, now closed.

Whatever teasing he would get, you would be more than worth it.

#giorno giovanna #giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #giorno #jjba #jjba part 5 #jjba part five #giorno prompts #not sfw

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panharmonium · 4 years

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you know what?

no. absolutely not.

i already did part 1 of this post here. i’m back again with part 2, because unfortunately the awfulness factor doesn’t stop with arthur, and as much as i adore hunith generally, this entire sequence is a MESS.

and yes, i am aware that pretty much nobody else thinks so. every time i see this scene referenced in fandom, it is always framed as a fun, cutesy, sing-songy moment of “oooo, hunith ships merthur!” literally every time.

which, you know, like i always say about everything fandom-related - that’s fine. everybody is going to enjoy things differently; you do you, and keep on having fun! but here on my own blog, in my own space, i am gonna do me, and in this case ‘me’ involves yelling about how much i can’t stand that particular read, and how angry the end of 1.10 makes me.

disclaimer, to help folks curate their own fandom experiences: i am going to be Very Cranky for the rest of this post. if you love this particular scene in the way i just mentioned, you will probably want to scroll on by, because this piece of meta most likely won’t be your jam. as always, these are my personal thoughts and nobody is obligated to share them, so please do not hesitate to simply skip this post if we are on different wavelengths - instead, keep enjoying fandom in whatever way is most fun for you!

fair warning now given, off i go on a long, frustrated tirade.

i already wrote about the first half of this scene, where arthur decides that the appropriate thing to do at this particular moment is to give merlin a scolding about the evils of sorcery, despite the fact that the only reason arthur is even alive to deliver this lecture in the first place is because merlin’s ‘sorcerer’ best friend just DIED saving arthur’s life. but sure, you know what, let’s use said best friend’s funeral to chastise merlin about how “dangerous” sorcerers are. let’s just make that completely dickheaded decision.

and, moving on to the second half of this scene - here’s the thing. hunith overhears this entire conversation. she overhears arthur telling merlin off about sorcery, in front of the burning corpse of merlin’s best friend, who is, as far as arthur knows, the ‘sorcerer’ who died saving arthur’s life.

and yet, for some inexplicable reason, hunith still cannot get off the arthur pendragon train for two damn seconds.

she has known arthur for less than a week. by contrast, she has known will for his entire life. but the instant arthur walks away, hunith sidles up next to merlin and says, “you’d better be going” - like. okay, my god, can you try to hustle him away from his best friend’s in-progress funeral any faster????? how about we maybe give him a second? the pyre hasn’t even burnt down yet, and merlin hasn’t had a single second to himself since this sequence started. he’s had to stand there and listen to arthur insult the dude who everyone is supposed to be memorializing, and then hunith - who overheard the entire thing - zips right over and tries to chivvy merlin on his way. you’d better be going.

HELLO?! the pyre is still roaring. how about, instead of hassling merlin and hustling him offstage, everybody just sits down and waits for a minute. how about they all just leave merlin alone for three everloving seconds.

honestly, just - every time i think about this scene i get angrier.

i love hunith, and i know she’s well-intentioned. but everything she gives merlin in this scene is the exact opposite of what he needs. he doesn’t need to be hurried off the village green like there’s some reason he can’t stay there for the entirety of his friend’s funeral. he doesn’t need to be pushed into going back to camelot when he is clearly struggling with the idea of leaving ealdor again. and he absolutely does not need to be told how much someone else “needs” him right now, when he himself is the one who is having a fucking crisis and who needs someone to take care of him.

i cannot emphasize that last point enough. it is just - beyond upsetting to me that hunith literally watches arthur shitting on merlin’s dead best friend (and, by proxy, merlin himself, since merlin is the actual sorcerer) and she still somehow thinks the right thing to do is walk over and start telling merlin how great arthur is and how arthur “needs” him and how merlin “belongs at arthur’s side.”

i can’t stand that. it makes me so angry. it’s not right. it’s not fair. it’s damaging. it’s the same shitty messaging that destroys merlin’s life in later seasons, this idea that he exists for someone else’s sake, the complete disregard for what he himself might want at any given moment, for what he himself might need, for the reservations he might have about this plan that other people have formulated for his life.

he is UNCOMFORTABLE when she says these things to him! he doesn’t look at her; he shifts his gaze to arthur and the camelot squad with this grim, unconvinced expression on his face, and then he averts his eyes from her.

everything hunith tells merlin in this scene is the exact opposite of what he needs to hear. he does not need someone to tell him how badly his services are “needed” by a man who hates the person merlin truly is, not when the only friend who ever accepted merlin’s true self has just been killed. he does not need to be told that arthur, who is alive solely because will is dead and who only seconds ago expressed exactly zero gratitude for that sacrifice, is the person to whom merlin owes his undying loyalty. he does not need to be shuffled off to camelot as quickly as possible, as if it would be better for him to just rush forward and forget what happened here, as if what happened here didn’t matter.

because what happened here did matter, whether hunith and arthur find it convenient to acknowledge or not. i have to lay this out again, because what happened to merlin in ealdor is so much more important than anybody ever seems to realize - and i do understand that, i really do (because yes, it was just one episode for us) - but we have to look at it from merlin’s perspective, not the audience’s.

will wasn’t ‘one episode’ for merlin.

i can’t say this enough times. i cannot say this loudly enough.

merlin, at the beginning of this show, has only ever had ONE FRIEND.

most of us can’t even imagine something like that.

but try. TRY.

merlin has only ever had one friend. he’s only ever had one friend to love him. he only had one friend for the first two decades of his life. he’s only been in camelot for a couple of months; he’s only known these camelot people for a couple of months, and they don’t know his real self anyhow. and now his ONLY FRIEND, the person he’s known all his life, the only friend he ever had who knew him for who he truly was, was just violently cut down before his very eyes, whilst saving a guy who can legally have merlin murdered for just existing. and even though merlin and will spend the entirety of 1.10 having a painful, complicated argument, will still uses his last moments on earth to tell the biggest fucking whopper of his life, in order to shield merlin from harm, taking all of the danger and infamy and condemnation upon himself. he dies with a lie on his lips. he dies with merlin’s hand in his hair.

and all the while, merlin knows that this would not have happened if he had just been willing to use his magic in the first place, instead of letting his fear of discovery prompt him into allowing his neighbors to offer themselves up for the slaughter in his place.

the avalanching double-whammy of grief and guilt that merlin is suddenly slammed with at the end of this episode is almost incomprehensible in scale.

i’ve talked about this before, but again, i think it’s something we don’t generally remember: losing will is the first time merlin has ever experienced personal bereavement. and he doesn’t get to start out with a warm-up; he goes straight to the big leagues. this is not some trifling thing. this is a total implosion of merlin’s world as he knows it.

when we think about the mark this episode leaves on merlin’s life, i don’t think most of us consider the magnitude of this event deeply enough. losing will in this way is not some one-off thing that merlin just...gets over. this is the most earth-shattering thing that has ever happened to him, at this point in time. it is still one of the worst things that has ever happened to him, period, even years later. the guilt never goes away.

and the thing that’s unique about this particular trauma is that merlin has to manage it alone. there are other tragedies in his life where we witness him receiving support/comfort from others - freya, lancelot, balinor (though of course there are aspects to these miseries that merlin has to keep secret from other people, as well) - but with will, merlin has to do everything on his own. he can’t get one single moment of peace at will’s funeral. his own mother, the only person who knows what really happened, can’t help him without making everything about arthur. and merlin can’t tell anyone else what happened, not the truth of it, because doing so would squander the gift he’s been given - will’s lie is still protecting him, years later, from arthur and morgana both.

merlin, at the end of 1.10, is forced to navigate this grief completely alone, in the silent secrecy of his own heart. arthur is actively making it worse. hunith is out here singing arthur’s praises. and will is just like - he’s suddenly not part of the conversation anymore. he doesn’t even register on anyone’s radar.

it truly is...incredible, for me, to watch hunith overhear arthur being legitimately terrible to both merlin and the guy who just died saving merlin AND arthur’s lives, and then to see her come over and start talking about how merlin belongs at arthur’s side, how much merlin needs to be there for him, how they’re two sides of the same coin. meanwhile, the guy who literally just lied his life away to protect merlin’s secret and who NEVER made merlin feel like he had to hide who he was and who never had any problem with magic in the first place and never made merlin feel unsafe and never treated merlin like he was less of a human being just for existing -

- he’s just burning to ash there, and hunith doesn’t even acknowledge that, despite the fact that merlin is so visibly, intently, single-mindedly focused on that funeral pyre, and so clearly in distress and in pain and NEEDING somebody. all she can talk about is merlin’s responsibility to arthur.

the dissonance here is baffling. hunith has known will forever. she met arthur less than a week ago. she barely knows him, and what she does know is that he thinks magic-users are dangerous/evil. she saw him being a dick to her kid. she knows her son is having the worst day of his life. and she still doesn’t offer a single comforting word in reference to the person who just died protecting merlin’s secret, instead choosing to wax poetic about a man whose bigotry is what merlin needed protecting from in the first place.

that...is a hot mess. the merlin-hunith-will dynamic is one of the few things in this show that reflects less-than-stellarly on hunith’s character, however much i love her. and even though it all stems from an overwhelming desire to keep her son safe, it doesn’t make her choices any less damaging. she sends merlin away specifically because she finds out that will knows about his secret. she spends 1.10 analyzing and encouraging and dissecting merlin’s relationship with arthur, when merlin’s relationship with will is the one that desperately needs attention. she’s proven wrong about will’s trustworthiness in the most stunning, powerful way possible, and then she never even acknowledges him, instead choosing to laud the dude who literally forces merlin to live in fear of execution.

she’s merlin’s mother. she’s the only person in his life who knows anything about what will actually meant to him. she is his only possible resource as he tries to weather a kind of devastation that defies description.

and she, like arthur, just barrels right on ahead and makes everything about someone else.

the cinematography choices in this scene matter. whenever arthur or hunith tries to talk to merlin, the camera is placed on the opposite side of the fire from them, meaning the flames are always in the foreground of the frame. they are something we are required to see and look past before we can get to anything else in the scene. and in terms of directorial/acting decisions - merlin doesn’t take his eyes off the pyre until the end of his conversation with hunith. not once while talking to arthur does he look away from it.

the funeral pyre is always in the foreground of the shot, because it’s in the forefront of merlin’s mind. that is where his focus is right now. that is what is taking up all of his attention. that is what is edging into the frame, eating up our entire field of view. that is what he needs help with.

but he doesn’t get any such support. the entire sequence ends up revolving around arthur. will’s entire funeral is about arthur fucking pendragon. arthur inserts himself so he can talk to merlin about how evil magic is, and then hunith inserts herself so she can talk to merlin about how great arthur is. nobody ever stops to think that maybe merlin doesn’t want to talk to anybody right this second. merlin’s entire ‘farewell’ to the only true friend he ever had in his life is completely swallowed up by the prince of camelot, and if that isn’t a metaphor for the rest of merlin’s life, then i don’t know what is.

i know nobody needs to hear this, because very few people are invested in this kid at the same level of embarrassing detail as me, but here it is, anyway.

yes, will is prickly. he’s hard to get on with. he’s angry. he’s bitter and snappy and uncharitable, sometimes.

but you know what? he has every reason to be like that.

this kid has nobody. his own best friend’s mother - who has known him all his life - doesn’t trust him and doesn’t respect him. she is too afraid for her own son’s safety to give will any credit. she sends merlin away to camelot, the most violently anti-magic place in the world, because apparently, will knowing about merlin’s secret would be even more dangerous than uther pendragon’s genocidal reign.

think about how that would feel. to hear something like that about yourself. to be somebody who is already so goddamn alone in the world, and to have your only friend vanish without so much as a ‘see you later,’ and then to be made to feel, however indirectly, like this is somehow your fault, like you’re the liability, like you’re the untrustworthy element here. as if you, somehow, are more dangerous than a king who literally pays to have sorcerers trafficked to him in cages.

will has every right to be upset, all the time. he has every reason to be angry, and bitter, and hurt, all the time. to be thought so poorly of - to be held in such low esteem - when he hasn’t done anything wrong, when he hasn’t ever done anything to earn that kind of mistrust - and to have that same misplaced suspicion used to justify separating him from the only person in the world who gives a damn about him - if it were me, i would be constantly on the verge of screaming, all the time.

will has always been on merlin’s side, and he has never done anything to endanger him, and in the end he gives up everything to make sure merlin can stay safe and hidden and unhunted. he shouldn’t have needed to prove his goodness, his constancy, his worth; not when he’s already kept merlin’s secret for who knows how many years, but even after he does do so, it doesn’t even matter. arthur acknowledges him only to disparage sorcery. hunith passes him over completely in favor of praising arthur, with no acknowledgment of the misjudgment she made.

i have said before that merlin tends to befriend people who have nobody, people who’ve been left behind by the rest of the world, people who’ve been made to feel that they aren’t worthy of love. and will, merlin’s oldest friend, was the first of those many characters, and it is so heartbreaking to me that in this instance, the same kind of disinterested and careless attitude towards his worth that dogged him all his life is perpetuated and affirmed after his death. ‘people are used to ignoring him,’ merlin tells arthur, and merlin is right - even when will is dead and burning, arthur only sees sorcery. hunith, who we would expect to be more sympathetic, only sees arthur.

merlin is the only one who knows better. merlin has always known better, and he loves will so much, but he is the only one, apparently, and honestly, after will dies? nobody else even tries to understand.

to sum up:

hunith and arthur, for all that i love them, are both way out of line at the end of this episode.

the legacy of this experience, for merlin, is that he spends the rest of his life processing this particular trauma alone. and that is why i always, always have to keep will and ealdor in the back of my mind when i write for merlin in any capacity - because this event isn’t some simple stumbling block for him; it changes him forever. it teaches him what he can and can’t expect from the people around him, and it solidifies how irrelevant his own needs are when viewed in comparison with arthur’s, even to people who barely even KNOW arthur; people who are supposed to put merlin first over everything. it teaches merlin to bury his sorrow, and to wrestle with personal suffering in secret, because if things aren’t ultimately about arthur, then they aren’t important enough to be granted any significant amount of time for merlin to deal with. merlin’s own grief, even at his best friend’s funeral, takes too long to resolve. arthur walks away from the pyre, and it’s time for merlin to leave, too. you’d better be going.

bottom line: i don’t care if other people think this whole ‘ooo, everybody wants merlin to be with arthur’ thing is wonderful or beautiful or dreamily romantic. it isn’t. it’s ugly, and it’s cruel, and it stripped merlin of his present identity and his future potential, one stolen moment at a time.

#and that's what i have to say about that #so.#in case you all weren't already aware #will is a goddamn hero #and merlin misses him every day #the once and future slowburn #meta #no kings no masters

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feysandfeels · 3 years

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Bless that T Swift/SJM crossover anon!! Can I add some other ones?!

The 1 - Chaol & Celaena after she’s Aelin again (or Chaol & Nesryn.....poor Chaol)

The Last Great American Dynasty - more like the Last Great Terrasen Dynasty lol

My Tears Ricochet - Aelin @ Arobyn

Mirrorball - Lysandra

Mad Woman = AELIN

The Lakes - Aelin talking about Rowan when she’s tired of it all

Not my (Chloe Ting sponsored) ass realizing just now that the original anon meant all the sjm pairings, but since I’m deep in the acotar trash atm I only made those.

ACOTAR I & II

Apologies jeje.

Manorian: generally speaking they have such reputation vibes. Immaculate record for immaculate couple.

... Ready for it? - “But if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom Holdin' him for ransom” // “Younger than my exes but he act like such a man, so I see nothing better, I keep him forever Like a vendetta-ta” // “You should see the things we do, baby In the middle of the night, in my dreams I know I'm gonna be with you So I take my time Are you ready for it?”. Listen do I really need to explain this or do we all just see it?. This song has the electricity, the sexyness, the roughness, the daring aspect that makes manorian be the GOD tier couple that they are.

I’d Lie - Right, bare with me but I will lol at this forever because Manon is basically “And I could tell you his favorite color's green He loves to argue, born on the seventeenth His sister's beautiful, he has his father's eyes And if you asked me if I love him, I'd lie”. It’s such a weird song to associate with them but it fits her so well hahahahaha because my girl lives in such denial that I just can’t hahahahahahaaha and like “I don't let nobody see me wishing he was mine” this is MANON FOR DORIAN ALL THE TIME, and everyone is like but we see you wanting him so just do something about it!!!

Rowaelin

Willow - this screams Rowan looking at Aelin: “Wherever you stray I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans That's my man”. He straight up left Maeve and the blood pact thingy they had for the blond girl he met three months prior. Also “Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark Show me the places where the others gave you scars Now this is an open-shut case Guess I should've known from the look on your face Every bait and switch was a work of art”, this speaks of the vulnerability shared through HoF about their scars and of Rowan realizng that every step he took was so he would met her. Willow is Rowan’s song for Aelin.

The Lakes- LET HER GO TO TERRASEN WHERE ALL THE POETS WENT TO DIE, LET HER STAY SO THAT WISTERIA GROWS AROUND HER FEET BECAUSE SHE HASN’T MOVED IN YEARS.

Elorcan

Hoax - the balance of the deep betrayal and the love, the hurt and the I would choose you again all of the nuances of Lorcan’s betrayal and the shattered illusions that speak of them even in their absences, are in Hoax: “Stood on the cliffside Screaming, "Give me a reason" Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in Don't want no other shade of blue But you No other sadness in the world would dI believe in Don't want no other shade of blue But you No other sadness in the world would do”.

Lysandeon

Paper rings- “The wine is cold Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street Cat and mouse for a month or two or three Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe”. This song matches their energy so well even if the lyrics don’t all offer exact parallels. They did however play cat and mouse for a month or two or three. “I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings Uh huh, that's right Darling, you're the one I want” Lysandra being accustomed to the finer things in life but she would slum it for Aedion; she is here for thick and thin.

Nesraq:

Gorgeous - “Of your magnetic field being a little too strong And I got a boyfriend (Chaol), he's older than us He's in the club (palace) doing, I don't know what (Yrene....) You're so cool (Sartaq really is the coolest), it makes me hate you so much (I hate you so much)” // You make me so happy (dude Nesryn loves spending time with him and he feels valued), it turns back to sad (fuck what about Chaol.. we promised each other it give it ago), yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have (because he’s the prince and I’m not royal) You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad”.

Chaorene:

Dancing with our hands tied - even if the lyrics don’t create perfect parallels, I think the main theme of the song being two people that want to be together, but feel their relationship has a lot of baggage would fit them well. Yrene has to get over her hate for Adarlan (even though she has every every every right to hate Adarlan) and Chaol has to get over *himself*. “I, I loved you in spite of Deep fears that the world would divide us So, baby, can we dance Oh, through an avalanche? And say, say that we got it I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted”.

Sam x Celaena:

I know places - them trying to run away so they could find a safe place to be in love? indeed. Me crying right now because they never got to? you bet: “'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes And guns They are the hunters, we are the foxes And we runBaby, I know places we won't be found and They'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down Cause I, I, I, I know places we can hide, I, I (...)”.

Dorian x Celaena:

The Way I loved you - To Dorian from Aelin... with love, friendship love that is. Because she recognizes the potential in him, in them, she knows he would be good to her and she knows that she indeed fell for him hard enough to want him for herself, but it just doesn’t feel like *that* anymore.

Red - From Dorian’s perspective: “Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly”// “Touching him was like realizing all you ever wanted Was right there in front of you Memorizing him was as easy as knowing all the words To your old favorite song Fighting with him was like trying to solve a crossword And realizing there's no right answer”. They were literally a crash and burn. But neither of them can actually bring themselves to regret it. It was fun while it lasted and in its way it brought them closer.

Chaol x Celaena:

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together - self explanatory, this is them through QoS. My Celorian ass is here for this pettiness I will take no criticism.

Forever and Always - “Was I out of line? Did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide Like a scared little boy I looked into your eyes Thought I knew you for a minute, now I'm not so sure So here's to everything coming down to nothing Here's to silence, that cuts me to the core Where is this going? Thought I knew for a minute, but I don't anymore” This was essentially Chaol’s thought process wondering why him an Celaena don’t work anymore and feeling like... a “we were supposed to be together 5ever what happened.... besides me not doing much to prevent her bff’s death and working for the dude that orchestrated the murder of her nation ?”

August - if I’m being honest this song fits them too not my fave song from folklore being for my least favorite couple in this story but if I gave Feylin some of my all time favorites I can give this one to them, but like “But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine Your back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it” Even though Chaol was ready to leave it all for her (he would literally cancel plans.. his life plans in case she’d call) she knew that this was an impossibility, their time was brief and it slipped away like a bottle of wine. She could never be his, because she was not entirely herself with him being Aelin meant opening up a lot of things and if Chaol had a hard time getting past a lot of Celaena’s traits then we can imagine the work, literally work he would have to do to accept Aelin... you know what, we don’t have to imagine it... it’s right there in QoS and ToD, anywho, he could never write his name on her back because she was never his, because he did not accept her for all that she was.

Aelin x Dorian x Chaol:

Long live - “I said, remember this moment, in the back of my mind The time we stood with our shaking hands The crowds in stands went wild We were the kings and the queens” // “Will you take a moment? Promise me this That you'll stand by me forever But if, God forbid, fate should step in And force us into a goodbye If you have children some day When they point to the pictures Please tell them my name Tell them how the crowds went wild Tell them how I hope they shine Long live the walls we crashed through I had the time of my life, with you” // I’m emotional right now and I need to cry it out.

I’m not 100% sure on the Chaoyrene one... but I think it’s good enough for me to post this hahaha

Anywho, I hope whoever asked for this enjoyed it 💛💛

#Feysandfeelsasks #Rowaelin #Manorian #Elorcan #Chaorene #Nesraq #Lysandion #Celorian #I don't know what Chaol and Celaena were #sorry

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