#and the little bit between the boots and shorts is very important alright

[sheyshen]

got distracted tonight with some outfit swaps when i was only trying to get a ref shot in gpose haha.

with bonus of the reason i played around with the rest:

let thancred wear a miniskirt you cowards.

#those aren't the shorts i use for layla's set but they convert to pants on guys #and the little bit between the boots and shorts is very important alright #since i can't view raya's main gear on thancred he got stuck with the set she used while leveling #many came out cute though gaius doesn't suit anything vincent has saved #thighs out for hien hahah #i only did set pairs though i might try naran and ryse tomorrow since they're fwb #sorry beni you don't have anyone

[fruitcoops]

Wisdom With Age

Follow-up to Leo getting his wisdom teeth out: it’s Loops’ turn! Hope you enjoy :) Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for dental work, wisdom teeth removal, anesthesia, and surgery (mentioned)

Sirius carefully, but firmly, set his hand on Remus’ knee to stop it from bouncing. “Sorry,” Remus muttered, then immediately began worrying at the hem of his old t-shirt.

“Okay,” Sirius said under his breath, turning in his seat and taking both of Remus’ hands in his own. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

“I don’t like this,” Remus muttered as his eyes flickered up to Sirius’ face. “Honey, I really don’t like this.”

“I know, but you have to do it.”

“Why? They’re my teeth, it’s my mouth, and is it such a bad thing if I don’t want people poking around in it?” The leg started bouncing again. “I mean, humans survived for thousands of years with their wisdom teeth, and—and teeth serve a lot of very important purposes besides chewing. This could fuck up my ears, and my hearing—”

“Remus.”

He swallowed hard and clenched his jaw.

Sirius began tracing slow circles over his knuckles. “You know better than anyone why this is important, and it’s dangerous to keep them in any longer than you already have. I totally respect that you’re freaked out right now, but you’ve got to calm down. These guys do this all the time.”

“There are always exceptions.”

Yes, I know, I’ve been thinking about all those scenarios for the past two weeks. “And you won’t be one of them. How long did you spend finding this place, again?” There was a beat of silence. “Re.”

“Four hours,” he muttered.

“Exactly. You did your research.” Remus’ eyes wandered up to the clock and his grip tightened when he saw how little time was left until their appointment. Distraction, distraction—“Tell me why you chose this place.”

That got his attention. “What?”

“You spent four hours sifting through dentists’ offices online, right? Tell me why this one stood out to you.”

“Um. Well, I guess it was just a combination of things. They have really good ratings and this is where Leo got his out, which went well. He was on his feet within a week, which was impressive. The equipment is good quality and—”

“Remus Lupin?”

“Oh, fuck me.” The nurse raised her eyebrows at him, and he flushed deep red as Sirius hid a smile in his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. Hi, that’s me. Remus Lupin. I’m…a little nervous.”

Her face softened as she walked over. “That’s perfectly normal. We have a little bit of paperwork for you to look over and then we’ll get started. Is this the person who will be driving you home?”

“That’s me. How long will it take?”

“Oh, an hour or so. Not long.” She handed Remus a pen before turning back to Sirius. “We do these procedures all the time, so there’s nothing to worry about. The surgery is quick and easy.”

Remus’ hand skidded across the page on the word ‘surgery’ and Sirius squeezed his thigh gently as he took a trembling breath. “Thank you for doing this on such short notice,” Sirius said with a smile while Remus read. “We really appreciate it.”

“Why does this have to be so important?” Remus mumbled as he signed the last page.

The nurse shrugged. “Human bodies are funny things.”

He snorted. “Tell me about it.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“I was a physical therapist for six years,” he said, handing the clipboard back to her. “Unfortunately, that means I know exactly why putting this off for so long was a bad idea.”

“I don’t know about a bad idea.” The nurse tilted her head to the side. “You still came in to do it before there were any problems, right? That seems pretty smart to me, and very brave.”

“She’s right,” Sirius said quietly, knocking their shoulders together. “You’ve got this, mon loup.”

The nurse waited patiently while he took a few deep breaths before standing up and hugging Sirius tight around the chest. “You’ll be here, right?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He gave him a gentle kiss on the lips and the inside of his wrist. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

The tension returned to Remus’ shoulders as he followed the nurse out of the lobby; Sirius sat down and grabbed a magazine to distract himself for the next hour.

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

Twenty minutes later, the nurse came back out. Sirius stood up immediately as fear bolted through his chest. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” she soothed, taking the seat next to his with a sigh. “There was a bit of trouble getting him to fall asleep, though.”

“Oh?” Sirius tried to keep his voice neutral as he sat down, but even he could tell it didn’t work that well.

She gave him an amused look. “Your boy is stubborn. We get nervous people all the time, but he seemed to have a personal vendetta against our anesthesiologist. The countdown usually lasts three seconds, maximum, but I made it all the way down to five before he was out.”

“But he’s okay?”

“He’s just fine.” She patted his hand.

“He’s been avoiding this for about four years now.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Hates hospitals and dentists, but still got a medical degree.” Sirius huffed. “His mom threatened to drive here from Wisconsin and drag him in by the ear if he didn’t schedule it soon.”

The nurse smiled. “You’d be surprised by how many young folks we get in here shaking in their boots. It’s really not that bad of a procedure, but all you hear about are the times it went wrong.”

Sirius hummed in agreement. “Is it normal to be nervous for him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

“Lots of people cry while they’re waiting, though I haven’t quite figured out why. Feel free to do some wailing if you think it’ll help.”

“I’ll pass, but thank you for the offer,” Sirius laughed. There were a few heartbeats of comfortable silence before he spoke again. “I don’t like the idea of him being in there all alone.”

“Oh, honey, nobody does.” She gave his hand a quick squeeze. “We always want to be there for the ones we love. Boyfriend?”

“Fiancé.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“This summer.” He smiled to himself. “I’m really excited.”

“How long have you been together?”

“We’ve known each other for six years or so, but we’ve only been dating for one.”

They chatted back and forth, and Sirius felt his nerves melt away as the conversation turned to Harry, then Regulus and Jules, until a tall man in a white coat poked his head into the lobby. “Do we have a companion for Remus Lupin in here?”

Sirius raised his hand. “That’s me.”

“Come on back, he just woke up.”

The dentist’s office smelled different than a hospital, which Sirius was grateful for. Remus wouldn’t like waking up with the scent of rubbing alcohol all around him. The walls were painted a cheerful yellow with various murals for the younger patients—each room had its own name tag with stickers.

“Remus?” The doctor knocked on the door as he opened it. “We’ve got someone here for you.”

“Hmm?” Remus blinked sleepily at them from the table; his face was puffy from anesthesia and gauze.

“Hey, Re,” Sirius said, taking his hand and rubbing it between his own. “Are you ready to go home?”

Remus squinted at him for a long moment. “Did it hurt?” he asked.

“Did what hurt?”

A smile twitched at the edges of his mouth. “When you fell from heaven. Hiya, handsome, I’m Remus.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Sirius looked back at the doctor, who was hiding his laughter in his hand.

“Here’s your aftercare sheet,” he said, pushing the wheelchair a little closer and handing Sirius a piece of paper. “Can you get him outside by yourself?”

Sirius nodded. “It might take some manhandling, but I’ll be fine.”

“Damn right, you’re fine,” Remus snorted.

“Merde,” Sirius muttered. “Alright, you shameless flirt, can you sit up by yourself?”

Remus winked at him, though it was more like a slow blink. “Might take some manhandling. What’s your name, angel?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He shrugged as Sirius helped him clamber into the wheelchair. “I need something to yell.”

“Holy shit, Re!” Sirius spluttered, nearly steering him straight into the cupboards in surprise. “You can’t just say that in the middle of a dentist’s office!”

Remus frowned and glanced around the room. “Is that where I am?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t like dentists. Or hospitals. Super fuckin’ creepy.”

“Yes, I know.” The hall was mostly empty, thank god. “You’ve told me.”

“Have we met before?” Remus stared up at him and nearly went crosseyed. “You’re being so nice to me.”

“We’ve known each other for six years.”

“Huh. I really hope we’re dating, because there’s no way I’m passing up a chance to tap that.”

“You know, Leo was incredibly sweet when his wisdom teeth got taken out,” Sirius sighed as they went down the next corridor. “He called Finn ‘pretty’ and then only wanted cuddles for a few days. You, on the other hand, were apparently so stubborn that they had to spend twenty minutes putting you to sleep, and now you’re hitting on me like a drunk frat boy.”

“I can call you pretty if you want.” Sirius stopped walking as Remus reached up to trail a surprisingly steady hand down his cheek; some of the flirty mischief was replaced by awe. “You really are beautiful. What’s your name? For real this time, I want to know.”

“Sirius.”

“Like the star.” The corners of Remus’ eyes crinkled. “Brightest one in the sky. It fits.”

“Just for that, I’m going to let you in on a secret,” Sirius said as they neared the exit.

“Oh?”

“We’re engaged.”

“What?”

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #sweater weather #lumosinlove #wisdom teeth #tw dental work #my fic #fanfic

[celosiaa]

ooo passing out from pain/chronic illness jm? (either! your choice for everything on this)

I wrote this in a blinding fury today!! So it’s short and idk if it’s very good! But here ya are, serving up a meal of Jon with POTS, who has the flu that has probably turned into pneumonia, being found on the floor of the living room as Martin gets home from work. Enjoy? Maybe? Idk!!

"H-how long have you been down?"

Martin’s voice floats through Jon’s awareness slowly, much too slowly for his normally sharp mind. Every breath a slow and heaving gasp, in and out, in and out, everything muffled but the blood pounding in his ears, even as he lies flat on the floor.

"It's--ha, fine, love. It happens."

"Jon, how long?"

Martin’s voice turns a bit sharper now, and even if Jon knows in his heart of hearts that it’s only from the rising panic, he can’t help but feel his stomach drop all the same.

"...I'm not really sure,” he rasps, practically feeling the anxiety beginning to reach a tipping point as it rolls from Martin in waves.

"You kept passing out?"

"It's fine, habibi, it happens--"

"Don't. Don't."

Jumping slightly at the acridity of his tone, Jon’s eyes widen as he looks upward to meet Martin’s—only to find them already closed while he shakes his head rapidly.

"I'm sorry,” he mutters, remorseful. And Jon cannot help but feel the same remorse as well—for hiding how ill he felt, for telling himself over and over that it would be better, for ending up in a worse position that he’d ever anticipated. And landing Martin there right next to him, to boot.

"It's alright."

Exhaling a deep sigh through pursed lips, Martin turns his focus to pressing his lips against Jon’s hand, which he holds ever so light, ever so gently. The motion of lifting his arm like that sends Jon’s heart pounding even faster, fluttering in his chest at once. Not that he would ever tell Martin that.

Not important.

"If I help you, do you think you can stand?"

Jon considers this for a moment, worrying at his bottom lip as he recalls the amount of times he had tried to lever himself up from the carpet beneath him within the past…however long it had been. Too many, certainly—if the beginnings of bruises beginning to form on his arms is anything to go by. Honesty. Honesty will have to do for now, even if it hurts.

"I...can't really sit. So. Probably not."

A small, strangled sound slips out between Martin’s teeth, as hastily suppressed as it came. But the desperation of the sound…he’s panicking, Jon knows this. Knows he is the reason. And there’s very little, if anything, he can do to fix it.

"Martin, really, it--it's--"

Something bubbles up in his chest, deep and choking—and Jon’s vision goes dark at once as the coughing starts up again, threatening to drown him at any second.

"Oh, Christ. Okay. Alright. I've got you, alright."

He feels himself being levered upwards and forward; the position change allowing him a deeper breath for a moment—but only a moment. Nausea rises as everything tilts, and sways, and—

—

With a small flinch and a gasp, Jon comes to with his head lying in Martin’s lap. The deep, pulsing ache of it all floods his awareness as his eyes flutter open, a wave down every nerve of his battered body, and he cannot help but shiver.

“There you are, alright. You’re alright.”

Martin.

With an upturned glance that shoots another wave of pain through his head and across his shoulders, he faintly registers Martin’s face through glasses smashed into his cheeks. Tears in his eyes. Desperate to keep the panic to a dull roar, and it’s his fault, it’s all his fault—

He breathes in the guilt to the hollow of his gut—and chokes.

This time, Martin turns him so gently to his side, holding him secure as he props up on an elbow to loosen some of the damp that has taken residence in his lungs. It feels as if it goes on for years, Martin handing him tissue after tissue as he rubs his back—until Jon can no longer hear the sound of his own hacking, not above the ringing in his ears.

He has to stop, or he’ll faint again. And lord knows he can’t have that, not in front of Martin. Not after everything. And so he holds it back the best that he can, begging his blood to supply his brain long enough to let him feel safe enough to lie back down.

It’s going to happen anyway, one way or another.

As he lies back into Martin’s lap, black spots barely clearing from his vision, he knows only one thing: he is ill. Truly and properly.

“I’m gonna have to call for help, habibi,” comes Martin’s tear-soaked voice from above him.

“Mm—s—“ Jon tries to get even the smallest whisper of a noise from his ragged throat, but it gets lost somewhere between the inflammation and congestion.

And so he does the only thing he can think of—a fist circling above his sternum, the sign for “sorry.” And a small kiss to whatever bit of Martin’s leg lies closest to him.

It’s surely the least he can do. Always seems to be the least.

But it’ll have to do for now.

#tma #tma fic #jonmartin #sickfic #emmaverse #idk if this is good #but here

[nashibirne]

Painkiller - 1

This is part 1 of my second, longer Henry Cavill fic. Slow-burn-friends-to-lovers again, I just like this kind of story and I hope you're gonna like it too.

One important note: I'm a curvy woman myself and the last OFC I shipped with Henry was curvy too, so I decided the OFC in this story should be different. She's lean and without curves and I hope I portrayed her and her thoughts on her bodily features, that come up in later chapters, well. I know you very slim babes out there have body issues too and I hope you find yourself represented in this story. 

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Ella)

Summary: Henry meets a woman that he really likes right from the beginning, but it starts with pain...

Warnings: None, I guess. Smut in upcoming chapters but not yet

Unbeta'ed! English is not my first language so please be warned. 

Taglist: @hell1129-blog @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @lunedelorient @agniavateira @mis-lil-red

Next parts can be found here

Here we go....

*****

1

It started with pain for both of them. 

"Oooof." The punch came unexpected and hit her hard right under her eye, sharp pain radiating from her cheekbone through her skull, leaving her dizzy and disoriented for a moment. It felt like someone had sounded a gong inside her head. Loud and hard. She squeezed her eyes shut and raised her hands reflexively up to her face, throwing away the cup in her hand without thinking about it.

"Ouch..." The glass mug hit his back almost the same moment he heard the woman that was sitting behind him on a barstool wince in pain when his elbow met her cheekbone only centimeters below her eye. A hot liquid ran down his spine leaving a burning trace that hurt like hell. The mug fell to the floor beside his feet, surprisingly undamaged.

He turned around, his face red from the attempt to suppress the pain, facing the woman he had just accidentally hit.

"Oh shit... I'm so sorry. Are...are you okay?" He stammered, waving his hands about wildly, unsure whether to comfort her through a touch or to stay away from her.

She blinked several times before looking at him, her hurt eye was watering and the skin below it was dark red. She started rubbing the aching spot, still blinking continuously.

"Hey, are you alright?" he repeated with a troubled expression.

"Yeah...yeah. I'm fine I guess." She shook her head to get rid of the blur and tried a smile, clinging on to the edge of the bar.

"I'm so so sorry. It really was an accident. I didn't see you. I was gesticulating a little too wildly, talking to my friend over here." He turned around to introduce her to his set assistant Marc but he was nowhere to be seen. So no support was to be expected from this side. How the hell has he managed to vanish this fast, he wondered.

"You have an invisible friend you talk to at parties?" she said looking at him suspiciously.

"I swear he was there just a second ago..." Now his face was red from embarrassment rather than pain and he ran his hand over the burning area on his back unconsciously.

"Oh no...my Darjeeling." she looked at the big light brown spot, that was spread all over the back of his white shirt.  "I spilled my tea on you. That must burn like fire. I'm so sorry." Her eyes were wide with shock...well at least the one that hadn't involuntarily got to know his elbow.

"Oh no...no worries. I'm fine...hardly noticed it. What about your eye?"

"Well, I guess I'm going to have a very pretty shiner tomorrow."

He turned around to the Bartender. "Could we have some ice please?" The man took a look at her and started shoveling some ice cubes into a little plastic bag immediately. With a nod he gave it to her and she pressed it onto the bruise carefully.

"Sorry. Again." He gave her a sheepish smile. "Let me order you a new cup of tea, okay?"

"I'd prefer something harder now to be honest. A coke please." She grinned and gave him a wink with her good eye which instantly made him feel less guilty and much better.

"You're a real badass, huh? A big party and you drink tea first and now even a coke?" He gave her a cheeky smile. "Not as badass as you. You show up with the invisible man and beat up innocent, unsuspecting women." she answered quick-wittedly and then they simultaneously burst out laughing.

"I'm Henry, by the way." He said when they had calmed down, offering her his hand.

"Ella." she said, shaking it. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. Though the circumstances are suboptimal."

"Nevermind. Tomorrow I can tell all my friends Henry Cavill hit on me at a party and it won't even be a lie."

He laughed out loud.

"Damn...you've recognized me."

"Yeah...you should have worn the Clark Kent glasses." She replied with a grin. "Without them it wasn't too hard to figure it out. Plus this is the Witcher wrap party so I was kind of expecting to see you."

"Fair enough."

"Is your back really ok? The tea was boiling hot, I bet you have a heavy burn..."

"I'm good...you know...Man of Steel...tea can't hurt me." he grinned widely.

"Uh-huh...and I thought you might use one of Geralt's magic potions to ease the pain."

"Maybe we should use something like that on your cheek."

"I'll be fine. Don't worry. A black eye will match my badass personality perfectly." She removed the ice bag and touched the area below her lower lid with her fingertips, managing to give him a nonchalant smile.

"You're not part of the team, are you? I don't think I've ever seen you before. Are you here by yourself or with someone?" Henry tried to sound as casual as possible when in fact he was dying to know whether she was single or not.

"No, I'm here with a friend. He's part of the props master team and I helped him to find some special antiquarian books and maps. That's why he asked me to accompany him tonight. As a treat and as a thank you."

"And where is your friend?" Henry scanned the room for someone who was looking for her. Fuming with jealousy maybe. But there was no one.

"I don't have a clue. He went to find the restrooms a while ago..." she shrugged. "He promised to be back soon but maybe he ran into the cute waiter he was drooling over earlier and now they're making out in the storage room or something." Ella grinned, rolling her eyes.

"I see." Henry laughed, relieved that her friend apparently was a gay friend. "Well, then I regard it as my duty to keep you company till he returns."

"How very chivalrous." she raised her eyebrows, an amused smile playing on her lips. "But I think you're already off the hook. There he comes." She nodded at a tall, athletic looking man that approached them with a guilty look on his handsome face. He was in his late-twenties and looked like a member of a motorcycle club, dressed in leather trousers, a white t-shirt and heavy black biker boots. His arms were both completely covered with tattoos, nose and eyebrow were pierced and he had tunnels in both earlobes. He held a black leather jacket in one hand, running the other hand through his thick black hair. Henry recognized him immediately. He had been on set quite a few times and his co-star Freya had a huge crush on him, talking about him almost non-stop. 

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." The guy said when he was in earshot, raising his hands defensively. "It wasn't my fault. I ran right into my boss and she insisted on having a drink with me."

"Only one?" Ella grinned at him. "You look a little tipsy."

"And you look fucked up. Shit, Elsie...what happened to your face?" He came closer, inspecting her eye, lightly touching the bruise, which made her flinch.

"He beat me up." Ella cocked her head, looking at Henry, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Accidentally!" Henry clarified hastily.

"How's that even possible?"

"It's complicated." Ella laughed. "I'll tell you later. You know each other?" She looked back and forth between them.

"Sure. You're Jackson, right?" Henry said with a big friendly smile.

"Um..yes. I am." The surprise was written all over Jackson's face. "And you are Henry Cavill and you know my name..."

"I saw you on set a few times and heard Fr...someone...call you by your name."

"Oh, wow...that's pretty dope." 

"Yeah...dope." Henry laughed. "Well... I'm gonna leave you to it then. I spotted my invisible friend over there and I really have a bone to pick with him." 

***

Henry just couldn't stop looking at her. He was standing on the other side of the room with Marc and some other members of the team, having a beer and some tiny bits of finger food. The others were chatting and laughing but he wasn't really able to follow their conversation. He rather watched Ella sitting at the bar, talking to Jackson, touching her bruise from time to time. To Henry's big relief she seemed to be alright but he still couldn't stop observing her. 

He probably wouldn't have noticed her under normal circumstances, sitting there all on her own, trying to stay in the background. She wasn't the kind of woman that turned everybody's heads when she entered a room. She was attractive for sure, but not in an eye-catching way. She had more of a girl-next-door aura than being a bomb-shell. More pretty than hot, more down-to-earth than extravagant, more being game for anything than drama queen and for all these reasons she was exactly Henry's type. 

She was quite tall, almost eye to eye with him, but then again she was wearing sky-high Louboutins. She wore her ebony-black hair in a cute pixie cut which matched her pretty face with the big green eyes perfectly. She was very lean but not skinny and though Henry normally prefered curvy women he liked her slim stature. It simply suited her really well. Just like the black pantsuit she wore, the tight trousers that showed off her long, well-formed legs and the short, waisted jacket that she wore open over a close-fitting red top that matched the soles of her shoes.

But what really captivated him was her personality. Henry liked the way she had handled that whole awkward situation. Instead of getting angry or behaving bitchy she had been so calm, understanding and humorous, so completely unpretentious, Henry was still impressed. She knew who he was but she didn't make a fuss about it. She could have easily tried to take advantage of the situation but she had not. She had simply treated him like an ordinary bloke and he appreciated that very much. Ella seemed to be a smart and interesting woman. A woman he wanted to learn more about, a woman who inspired his hunting instinct and at the same time there was something about her that made him feel insecure. Maybe because their first encounter was more of a meet-brute than a meet-cute and he was still embarrassed about it.

When he looked at her again he smirked, raising his glass a little. She laughed before she returned the smile.

*****

"He keeps on checking you out." Jackson said when he noticed the glances Henry gave Ella.

"He's not checking me out, Jax."

"So why does he look at you again and again?" 

"Maybe he's concerned I'm going to sue him for bodily harm." Ella grinned.

"I doubt that. I think he's into you."

"Oh come on...don't be silly. He's Henry Cavill and I'm...well, I'm...me."

"You seemed to get along very well when I watched you from afar."

"He was being polite, because he almost knocked me out."

"You laughed a lot." Jackson pointed out.

"Yeah, he's a funny guy. Very quick-witted."

"And handsome." 

"Oh yes. He's breathtaking. It should be illegal to be this attractive and nice." Ella sighed.

"Look! He's doing it again. He's glancing at you."

Ella turned to Henry's direction, locking eyes with him. When he raised his glass with a sexy smirk she laughed and smiled back.

"See?" Jackson asked triumphantly.

"Okay, okay. But I still think he's just being nice because he has a guilty conscience. If he was interested in me he would have asked for my number or something."

"Maybe he's a little shy." Jackson wasn't willing to give up that easily.

"Yeah...sure." Ella laughed giving her best friend a playful head slap. "Let's drop the topic, okay." 

"If you insist..." Jackson rolled his eyes.

"I do. Besides...I really have a bad headache. I can't think straight right now."

"Maybe a mild concussion. Let's call an Uber and get you home, Elsie. You have to rest."

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

****

When Henry realized that Ella and Jackson were about to leave the party he started to panic. If he let her go now he wouldn't see her again but he really wanted to. So he hastily made his way through the crowd, parting it with his body like Moses parted the Red Sea with his staff. He didn't know what exactly he was going to do or say but it shouldn't be that hard. A flirtatious line, a bright smile, ask for her number. Easy.

"Ella!" 

She turned around when she heard her name, surprised to see Henry, his gestures indicating to her that she should wait for him. She tugged at Jackson's shirt to make him wait too, nodding in Henry's direction. Her friend just raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

"Ella." Henry repeated when he reached her, almost tripping over his own feet.

"Yes?" she looked at him expectantly.

"I...um..." He gave her a lopsided smile. "I was wondering if you maybe want to give me your number so I can...um...check on you tomorrow. To make sure you're fine and...well..yeah...just in case your eye gets worse or something." 

That didn't come out half as smooth as planned. 

"Oh...yeah. Sure." Ella agreed without hesitation though she was pretty surprised. Surprised and happy that he wanted to stay in touch. Even if it was just to make sure she wasn't hurt badly. Henry gave her his phone and she typed in her number and her name, screwing up her eyes because her headache was killing her.

"Are you okay?" Henry placed a hand on her shoulder, a concerned look on his face.

"Yeah. I'm fine. It's just...my head hurts a little."

"Shit. This is all my fault. You might possibly have a concussion. I should take you to hospital. You need to see a doctor, Ella."

"No, it's okay. I just need a painkiller and a good night's sleep. My brother can take a look at me tomorrow, he's a paramedic."

"Really?" He didn't sound convinced.

"Really." She smiled at him, patting his hand that still rested on her shoulder, warm and soothing. Her touch made his body tingle in a way it hadn't tingled for a very long time.

"I'm gonna get her home and make sure she'll be fine." Jackson threw in. "I can stay the night, keep an eye on you, Elsie. Just in case, okay?"

"Okay." Ella agreed, turning to her friend with a grateful nod.

"Thanks, Jackson. That really makes me feel better." Henry was visibly relieved.

"Yeah, no biggie. And don't worry. I won't touch her. I would of course if I was straight  because she's really great. But I'm not and well...yeah...she's single by the way." Jackson blurted out.

"Jax!" Ella's cheeks turned deep red.

"That's...um...good to know." Henry grinned, blushing a little too.

****

tbc

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #cavillry #henry cavill fanfic #friends to lovers #friends to lovers fan fic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x ofc

[chaoticpuff17]

Suga We’re Going Down

part 5

masterlist

alright my darlings! here it is, and its a long one! and I have some links for you today! you can visit the National Palace Museum here! The website allows you to virtually explore this beautiful museum! as well as a link to the song she plays later in the chapter here. Enjoy, my darlings!--- chaotic puff

Everything was better when she was with Eun Jae. Her little guy was her favorite person in the world. Halmeoni was confused as to why she was spending a Monday night at the house, but she allowed it without too many questions. It was one of the things that Y/N loved the most about the old woman. She knew when to push, and when to let things lie. Halmeoni knew that she was knew that Y/N would talk to her when she was ready, and Eun Jae was happy to have his mother there with him.

He was a sweet kid. He really was, and there was nothing she loved more than cuddling up with him, but their little bubble had to burst eventually. The next day came too quickly for her, and much to her horror, Jackson was waiting for her outside when she and Eun Jae left the house both with their backpacks on.

“Miss Kang.” He greeted smile bright on his face until he caught sight of the toddler hanging onto her hand. His expression dropped into one of shock before a softer smile crept across his features. “Hi, buddy.” He greeted bowing slightly to the toddler who immediately hid behind his mother’s leg. Jackson was unphased though. “My name is Jackson. What’s yours?”

Eun Jae looked up at her as if asking for confirmation that it was okay to interact with this stranger. She nodded giving him a soft smile of her own as she gently pushed him forward. “Go on.” She encouraged not wanting to be rude. It was important to her that Eun Jae grew up with good manners. She did not want him to end up like his parents or her parents for that matter.

“I’m Eun Jae.” The toddler muttered ducking his head quickly before burying his face in her leg again.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Eun Jae.” Jackson stood up rubbing his neck as he glanced back at the car. “We’re going to need to get a car seat installed.”

Y/N froze. “You’re not going to have to tell Mr. Min about this, are you?”

Jackson’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Mr. Min doesn’t know?” She shook her head. “I don’t…”

She glanced down at Eun Jae making sure he was distracted before she started speaking to Jackson her voice low and rushed. “He’s my sister’s kid. She walked out, so he’s mine now. Mr. Min doesn’t need to know about him. My family doesn’t affect him.”

Jackson nodded in understanding. Family was family. Business was business. He could respect her wish to keep her family out of it, and the fierce spark in her eye was enough to convince him that he didn’t want to mess with her when it came to her family.

“I won’t lie to him, but I won’t tell him either.” He promised. “Do you have a car seat we can use for now?” She shook her head no. “Okay…” He thought for a moment. “We could….”

“I’m not taking him in that car without a car seat.” She snapped seeing the direction his thoughts were going. “We’ll take the bus like we normally do, and if you really want to drive us, you can come pick us up, with a car seat, at the end of the day.” She nodded giving him a firm glare before she smile turning back to the toddler. “Let’s go to the bus stop, buddy. Say bye-bye to, Mr. Wang.”

Eun Jae unburied his head from her leg and waved goodbye shyly.

“Bye, Eun Jae.” Jackson waved with a smile of his own as Y/N led the little one away a little more quickly than she would have normally.

She just wanted everything to go back to normal, but it was too late for that now. She’d already signed the deal, and everything else would have to wait until they were back on their feet and far away enough from financial ruin that there was no need for her to be signed away to Min Yoongi. But that was a long way off as of yet. For now, she’d focus on Eun Jae and classes. There was no use worrying over things she couldn’t change.

She dropped Eun Jae off at his preschool and then made her way to her own school. She’d see him later. She’d promised Halmeoni that she would drop him back off, as she had a doctor’s appointment today and couldn’t pick him up herself, and neither of them trusted her father to get him from school. If they did that, Eun Jae would never get picked up, and they would receive a very angry phone call from the preschool wondering why no one had come for Eun Jae.

Thankfully the day passed much as it always did up until her classes were over, and then there was Jackson waiting for her with that damned car.

Despite her sour look, he met her with a smile.

“I got the car seat!” He announced proudly as he opened the door to the backseat for her.

“I can see that.” She sighed as she slipped inside. “It’s a bit early to pick up Eun Jae yet.” She informed him. “I usually go home after class, but Halmeoni can’t pick him up today.” She explained.

“Well, what would you like to do in the mean time?” He asked as they pulled away from her university. She was silent thinking it over, and Jackson was suddenly struck by how young she was. She looked a little lost sitting there in the back of a car that was much too large for just one person. “Perhaps, we could go to spoil you for a moment.” He suggested.

“What do you mean?” She asked staring at him in the rear view mirror.

“Well, you have to go meet Mr. Min eventually, and he would want you to treat yourself.” He shrugged. “Get your hair done, your nails. Go buy yourself something nice. It’s on his dime.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “I really don’t think…?”

“You’re Agust D’s girl now. You have to look like Agust D’s girl. And you never know when he’s gonna call for your first date. Don’t worry. He’ll pay for it.”

She hadn’t thought about that. Technically, Yoongi was responsible for her clothing budget, but would it be added onto her payment like a reimbursement or did it only cover the things he wanted her to wear? But then again, Jackson said it was covered, and he’d been so nice. Maybe it would be okay to do something for herself. She was meant to look a certain way, she supposed.

“So what’s it gonna be, chickadee?” He asked flashing her a smile in the mirror.

“Nails maybe?” She fidgeted uncomfortably not knowing what to do. It felt odd to have access to someone else’s bank account.

“Nails it is.” Jackson nodded driving them off in the direction of the nearest nail salon.

As weird as it all was, she had to admit it was nice to get her nails done. She never had them done before, not professionally at least, and this was better than anything she’d ever been able to do on herself. She was musically inclined, not artistically, but there was still a feeling of guilt, of spending money on herself when her family needed the money far more than she needed a manicure. Her nails were never long anyway. Musicians didn’t normally keep long nails. It was odd to see them painted so prettily.

Staring down at her nails she had to wonder if this was going to be her life now. Would she have to look all put together all the time? Would she be constantly worrying that Yoongi would find out about Eun Jae? She didn’t want to be constantly worrying. She knew worry. She already had too much to worry about, and worry was exhausting. She couldn’t afford to be any more exhausted than she already was. There was too much to do these days.

She glanced down at her phone wondering when her first summons would come in. He had promised she’d be seeing him soon, but when was soon? Did they start having their meetings this week or next week? Either way she was expected to meet with him at least three times a week, not counting extra meetings he could ask for. Those at least she could refuse so long as she had a good reason, but she was smart. She was sure she could get out of a good majority of the extra meetings so long as Yoongi didn’t catch onto her dodging him.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid all extra meetings, but she could dodge some of them. She’d have to. She needed time with Eun Jae, and she knew that weekends would be hard to balance between Yongi and Eun Jae especially when she hadn’t told Yoongi about Eun Jae’s existence.  They were the two men in her life even if Yoongi’s stay was only temporary. That did not make him any less a part of her life though. For now, at least, he was quite a major part of her life, and she’d have to treat him as such.

“Where to now, miss?” Jackson asked pulling her out of her thoughts.

“The preschool.” She gave him the address with a strained smile as she began to wonder how she was going to balance everything out. She had other jobs. She had school. She had Eun Jae. She knew this was the best way to settle their debts, but what had she been thinking when she’d agreed to this? How was she ever going to make this work?

Jackson took her home after they dropped off Eun Jae with Halmeoni. She rather unfortunately had a date to prepare for. She’d gotten the text while she’d been signing Eun Jae out of preschool. It was short, precise, a simple message saying for her to be ready by seven o’clock and the promise that appropriate attire would be delivered to her home. Other than that and a promise from Jackson Yoongi and his driver would pick her up later, she knew nothing.

When she arrived home, she was met with a package on her doorstep. She had to give it to him, he was nothing if not efficient. There was still hours before she expected him, but it at least gave her time to get ready even if he hadn’t told her where they were going.

The box contained a modernized hanbok. The top was done in layers. The first was white, and undershirt. The second was in a lovely shade of purple that trailed down towards her knees, and the last layer was a black jacket type piece. There was a black pair of pants to match, and a thick traditional style belt to tie everything together. There was also a pair of ankle boots which to her immense relief looked comfortable. The heel was thick and not too high. She could actually walk in them. Anything too tall or with a stiletto was always a bit of a challenge for her. The next thing she picked out where the two smaller boxes that contained her jewelry for the evening. One was a pair of lovely earrings, the other was a hair pin. It was a lovely piece with the main part crafted too look like a branch while the decorative piece at the end was fashioned into tiny silver leaves and little off shooting branches that surrounded a smooth round piece of jade with a silver stripe slashed through the middle. It reminded her of the moon.

There was one final thing in the box that caused her to laugh in disbelief. There sitting in the bottom of the box was something she had skipped over when she was looking at the hanbok and the shoes and jewelry, but there sitting at the bottom of the box, was a coat. It was a long thick wool coat that would hang down to her mid-calf. At the very bottom of the box, underneath the coat there was a note written in short quick strokes. The letters scrunched together slightly. It was the handwriting of someone who was used to writing in a hurry.

Because you won’t wear mine.

She had to laugh at that. He was respecting her wish not to wear his coat while at the same time taking care of his worry over her own coat. It was as sneaky as it was caring, and even she had to admit that it was a better coat than the one she had. It was warmer and better quality. And she very begrudgingly had to admit that she loved the entire outfit especially the coat.

She passed the first few hours till her date on homework. She had to get it done at some point after all. Even if she was a sugar baby now, school came first. School what was going to help in the long run, not Yoongi, but that didn’t mean she detested lesson planning any less. It was a necessary evil even if it left her wondering for the thousandth time why she had chosen to go into education.

Homework could only keep her occupied for so long though. Eventually, she had to get ready. It was simple enough. All she had to do was throw on the provided outfit, slap on some makeup, and pull her hair up into a bun sticking the hair pin through it, but then she was left to twiddle her thumbs as the minutes ticked by until Yoongi’s arrival.

In hindsight, she had begun getting ready too early. Now she had all this time on her hands to sit and think about what she was about to do. She had always been a worrier, and years of experience had taught her it wasn’t good to sit with her thoughts when she was nervous. The pent up nervous energy had her pacing the floor as she revisited the urge to tear her hair out from the roots. She hated that feeling, the feeling that your stomach is trying to crawl out of your throat. Worse than that, she felt as though she was going to crawl out of her own skin. She was buzzing with nerves.

Part of her couldn’t wait for Yoongi to arrive just to get this first date over with, but another more prominent part of her hoped that he would never arrive. But it was too late for thoughts like that, wasn’t it? She’d already signed the contract, and she was bound to it for a year. She could survive a year. It wasn’t like Yoongi was a creepy old man. He was young and handsome too. He was even kind, from what she had seen at least, and yet something just wasn’t right. He made her just the tiniest bit uneasy, and she couldn’t place her finger on why.

There was nothing about Yoongi that should have made her uneasy. He had been nothing but kind to her so far, but that didn’t stop that spark of unease telling her something was not quite right. She was determined to brush it off as nerves though. It had to be nerves just jumping to the worst case scenario as her mind was prone to do. She could blame that lovely habit on her wonderful parents. They hadn’t been a shining example of a good life. Something was always wrong when it came to them, and they’d taught her to expect the worst. It was almost a relief really that her mother was gone. She didn’t show up often, but when she did, she always brought trouble with her, and they really couldn’t afford any more trouble at the moment.

There was a knock on her door that pulled her out of her thoughts with a jump. That had to be him. With a deep steadying breath she got up and made her way to the door making sure to pull the coat closed around her before she did. There was nothing revealing about the outfit that he’d picked out, but she still felt exposed, but that had to be nerves as well. He made her nervous in a way that was completely different than the unease he gave her.

It was his eyes. Those eyes seemed to see straight through her without ever revealing anything about himself. They were almost catlike. He reminded her of a stray that used to hang outside of the restaurant. He was an old ornery creature, scruffed up from one too many fights with the other cats, but he had those same eyes. He’d stare at you as though he knew everything about you, and as a child, Y/N really believed it. She had been convinced that the cat knew all the secrets of the universe. Halmeoni had done nothing to dispel that belief either. She’d treated that scruffy old tomcat as though he was a prince. She’d told her that cats were bad luck, and that the old tomcat was a bad spirit. She kept the animal fed and watered as a way to appease the bad spirit. Now as an adult, Y/N wasn’t so sure that the cat hadn’t been a bad spirit. Her family certainly hadn’t had much good luck over the years, but it also wasn’t as bad as it could be.

Yoongi was like that cat. He, or at the very least the situation, was bad, but it wasn’t as bad as it could be.  She doubted though that Yoongi was a bad spirit come to torment her family. He was honestly the best luck they had had in a while even if it wasn’t in an ideal way.

She opened the door with a smile and was met with Yoongi standing there waiting for her with his hands tucked into his coat pockets.

“Hi.” She murmured shuffling her feet awkwardly.

“Hi.” He murmured back offering her his arm with a small almost imperceptible smile of his own. “Let’s go.”

“Lead the way.”

She took Yoongi’s arm and let him lead her towards the elevator. “I see you got the coat.”

“I did.” She agreed suppressing an awkward smile not sure what to say or do with herself. “It’s very nice, thank you.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to want mine.”

“Oh!” She groaned before looking at him apologetically. “I completely forgot to give that back to you. I can run back up…”

“It’s fine.” He interrupted his lips quirking up a little bit on edges. “You should keep it.”

“It’s really fine!” She rushed. “I can just take the elevator back up. It’ll only take a minute.”

“Keep it.” He insisted his first actual smile of the evening stretching across his lips. “It looked good on you.”

He found the stunned expression on her face cute. Everything about her was cute, especially the blush that heated up her cheeks as she averted her eyes. She was just so innocent. How could anyone not like her? How could all those people in her life leave her in the mess that was her life? How could her family have put her in this position to begin with? On the one hand he was grateful that they had. It meant that he got her. But on the other hand, he was just so angry on her behalf. She was too sweet to for her family. They didn’t deserve her, sweet soul that she was.

“So, where are we going?” She asked as they walked out to the car.

“It’s a surprise.”

The drive wasn’t terribly long, but it was quiet. Neither she nor Yoongi were much for small talk. He didn’t seem the kind for small talk, and the jitters had left her grasping at straws for something to say. Coming up empty, she settled on silence. It was mercifully not an awkward silence though. She kept her attention on the city going by outside the window, and Yoongi, unbeknownst to her, kept his attention on her until they reached their destination.

“The museum?” She asked as Yoongi helped her out of the car. “It closes at six doesn’t it?” She turned to him in confusion, tugging her coat tighter around herself to ward of the evening chill.

“I rented it.” He shrugged wrapping an arm around her waist as he saw her shiver. He couldn’t do much for her until they got inside, but he could offer her what little body heat he could with a simple gesture.

“You rented the National Palace Museum?” She asked staring at him with wide eyes as he steered them towards the steps leading up to the entrance.

“Yep.”

“Just like that?” “Just like that.” He nodded leading her up the stairs. “I need to do some research for an upcoming mv. Thought it would be more fun with company.”

“So you rented the museum?”

The concept was mind boggling for her. Who rented a museum? She knew he was famous, but couldn’t he go to the museum like a normal person? Plenty of celebrities went out. A hat and a face mask worked well as a disguise, and no one would be expecting Agust d at the National Palace Museum. It didn’t exactly fit his image. The big tough rapper going to the museum? She didn’t think so. His fans wouldn’t exactly be looking for him there.

“Seemed like a nice date, and you don’t seem like the kind of girl who goes to clubs.” He shrugged again as the climbed the steps.

She bristled at that. “I go where you want me to go.” She sniffed straightening her spine. She knew she shouldn’t be offended. She wasn’t the kind of girl that went to clubs, but she was bristling anyway.

“I didn’t mean it badly.” He chuckled looking down at her fondly. “But this seemed like a better option, and I’d appreciate the company.”

She sighed forcing herself to relax as they reached the top of the stairs. “So what kind of mv are you making that needs research at the National Palace Museum?”

“It’s for a track called Daechwita. I wanted a historical vibe for it.”

“Daechwita is a traditional type of music.” She nodded understandingly. “Military march or royal procession type of vibe?” She asked as Yoongi helped her out of her coat once they got inside.

“Bit of both.” His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of her in the outfit he had picked out for her. It looked better than he had imagined it would.

The layers of the hanbok draped around her elegantly while the colors complimented her skin and hair wonderfully. It wasn’t sexy per say, but it was extremely hot to see her in something he had bought for her. His mind was already whirring with the possibility of all the things he could fill their wardrobe with. He planned on spoiling her rotten.

He liked seeing her hair pulled up as well. It exposed the length of her neck to him. He couldn’t wait to mark up that neck. She’d look so good covered in his marks, but she wasn’t ready for that yet, but soon.

“Then we’d better start researching.” She smiled eyes sparkling with excitement as Yoongi shed his own coat.

She couldn’t lie. She really did prefer the museum to the club, and the idea of being able to wander the museum after hours with no one else around was too exciting to pass up.

Yoongi grinned following after her as she wandered off into the first exhibition room.

He didn’t have to follow for long though as he found her just past the doors examining the first of the exhibits, a painted screen and a throne.

“Joseon Dynasty.” She said her arms folded comfortably around her. “The museum focuses mostly on the Joseon Dynasty. This screen, well the scene on the screen there are two more upstairs, traditionally sat behind the throne of the king.” She explained her eyes glued to the painted silk in front of them.

“It’s not a very intimidating throne.” He commented stepping up next to her. “Doesn’t look comfortable either.”

“Well, if you were king, you could make your throne look however you wanted.” She shrugged. “There’s been more than one throne, but the screen is traditional.”

“Why?” He asked wanting to hear her talk more. She was relaxed for once. She was never relaxed with him, and he didn’t want it to end. It was also cute to him how she seemed to know so much about the exhibit. She’d probably been before, but she was looking at the exhibit as though it was the first time.

“It represents harmony and balance. See how everything is symmetrical, fitting of the perfection of the king?” She motioned towards the screen drawing his attention from her and back to the exhibit. “Everything in it is long lasting, the mountains, the trees, the waterfalls. It’s supposed to represent the benevolence of the royals.”

“Even if the royal wasn’t benevolent?”

“Even if they weren’t benevolent.” She agreed.

“I’d pick a more comfortable throne.” He mused eyeing the wooden seat.

“Well, it’s not for lounging on.” She laughed looking at him with a bright smile.

“It could be.”

“Lazy king. Lounging on his throne instead of ruling.”

“Maybe he was a tyrant.”

“Maybe.” She agreed. “But look how beautiful it is. The detail that went into it.”

“It’s beautiful.” He agreed looking at the golden creatures drawn all over the panels of the throne, visions for his mv already taking hold in his head. “Why the screen though?”

She shrugged. “Screens normally sat behind the seats of the powerful. You see them in every historical drama. Sometimes more than one. Royalty needs to hold a sense of divinity and majesty. Everything from the clothes to the jewelry to the throne needed to display that.” She explained her tone soft, respectful.  “It’s why the throne was always on a dais and why the king and queen always had opulent robes.”  

“You know a lot about history.”

She startled a little blushing sheepishly. “It was always my favorite subject in school.”

He hummed nodding his head as he turned his attention back to the throne. “So the king should definitely have a screen.”

She nodded gently. “And lots of things in gold.”

He held out a hand to her, palm up. “Shall we?”

She eyed his hand for a moment, trying to decide if she wanted to take his hand or not. It was such a simple thing, holding someone’s hand, but it was such an intimate thing as well. Friendship, romance, comfort. Those were all things that could be conveyed in the simple act of holding another person’s hand. She’d have to do things that were much more intimate in this arrangement though, so she placed her hand delicately in his allowing his much larger hand to envelop hers as he led her to her next exhibit.

It was a case full of seals, all shaped like turtles. Each seal had a corresponding piece of paper stamped in red ink to show what the seal looked like when it was stamped.

“Why are they all turtles?” Yoongi asked staring down at the seals.

“Because they’re like dragons.” It was his turn to stare at her incredulously. Turtles like dragons?  

“How is a turtle like a dragon?”

“They rule over all the bugs, and they live a long time, longer than anything else around them usually, like a dragon.” She explained smiling softly. “And turtles are cute.” She added on her smile stretching into a grin her nose scrunching up in a way that Yoongi found absolutely adorable.

“I still don’t think turtles are like dragons.” He shook his head repressing a grin of his own. It was so good to see her smiling though, not nervous smiles real happy smiles.

“Agree to disagree.”  She shrugged before tugging on his hand leading him further into the exhibit. “That seal across from us is King Taejo’s seal.” She explained pointing across the room. “It’s why it gets its own case.”

“How do you know so much about all this?” He asked as they moved further into the exhibit.

“My grandfather was a history teacher.” She explained her smile dimming becoming softer, sadder. “He used to take me here when I was little.” He hummed in understanding waiting for her to continue. “He died when I was seven, but I’ve always loved history because of him, and he loved this place.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“He was a great man.” She hummed tilting her head as she thought. She shook her head slightly before a bright smile lit up her features, bright but a little strained. “Come on. There’s a lot more to see.”

And that’s how they went through the museum. Yoongi kept her hand safely tucked around hers. She pointed out her favorite exhibits, laughing about how uncomfortable the royal women’s palanquin looked compared to the king’s, and Yoongi hung off her every word, attentively taking note of the things that he could incorporate into his music video. He found her knowledge of the museum and its artifacts endearing. Her eyes would light up when she showed him her favorite exhibits. She’d been so tense and hesitant when she’d first taken his hand, but now every time they slipped apart for even a moment, she didn’t even flinch when they rejoined their hands. She had even been the one to grab his hand at one point, and Yoongi was practically beaming.

He had wanted something more secluded and easy for their first date, but he had never expected it to go as well as it had. The museum, the dinner for two he had set up for them on the second floor, it was all more perfect than he could ever imagine. She was perfect. He never wanted her to stop smiling. He loved that smile of hers. Just from this one night he had a million ideas, songs he wanted to write for her, places he wanted to take her. She liked hanok houses? He would buy her one. He’d buy her a piano and a cello too, the nicest cello he could find to fill the house with music. He’d buy her anything she wanted so long as she kept smiling at him like that.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as she expected either. Y/N actually found herself having a good time. Yoongi wasn’t so intimidating after all. She still had a lingering sense of unease at the back of her head, but it was easier to ignore now. Even if the intimate nature of the outing was a little too close to a date for her liking, she could actually see herself getting through the year now. It wasn’t going to be so bad. It helped that he was a gentleman. He pulled out her chair, helped her with her coat, opened doors, all those things that gentlemen are supposed to do. The happy atmosphere of the evening came crashing down though when Yoongi drove her home, but it wasn’t her home.

All the nerves came back with a fury. She was inexperienced, but she wasn’t naïve. She knew what was expected in their arrangement, but she that didn’t mean that she wasn’t horribly nervous. Yoongi could see it too. He watched all the color drain from her face as they pulled up to his building, but he squeezed her hand reassuringly as he led her into the building dismissing his driver for the night.

“It’s okay.” He assured her gently ushering her into the building as the escape route drove away leaving her stranded with Yoongi.

She nodded nervously, looking back at the entrance as though the car would magically appear to take her back to her own home.

Okay. Everything was okay. That was what she kept telling herself over and over again. It had to be okay, but she couldn’t stop the way her hands were trembling, and she was sure that Yoongi could feel it. Her hand was still enveloped by his own. She knew he’d noticed. He squeezed her hand reassuringly as he took her up to his penthouse apartment.

She had to admit that his home was beautiful, but it was too large for just one person. The apartment was done in shades of warm gray, and even though it was large, it still had the appearance of being lived in. Shoes were scattered by the door not having made it into the shoe rack. He flung their coats haphazardly across the table in the entryway before giving her a pair of guest slippers to wear. There was a coffee cup left out on the coffee table, and sheet music spread over the piano nestled in the corner of the living room.

It was the piano that drew her in. It was a gorgeous instrument. Coming closer she realized that a lot of the sheet music spread across the instrument was hand written.

“Did you write these?” She asked turning back to look at him where he stood a few feet away.

“Yeah.” He nodded moving forward a little.

“For the same album that the new mv is going to?” She asked picking up a few of the papers to look over the notes scribbled down in the same scrunched up scrawl that the note from the box had been in.

“Some of them.” He nodded coming up next to her to look at the particular song she was holding. “That one is for something else though.”

“What is it for?” She asked looking over to him.

“Not sure yet.” He shrugged.

“Can I try?” She asked tilting her head towards the piano, and a gummy grin spread across the man’s face.

“Please.”

She took a seat at the bench as Yoongi helped her arrange the sheets properly. “You’re sure this is okay?” She asked her fingers hovering over the keys.

He nodded again, and she turned her attention to the music.

“What tempo?” She asked noticing the lack of instruction. But it was hand written, and that was to be expected.

“Andante at the beginning. It builds up to be allegro around here.” He pointed out a particular measure and she nodded in understanding before putting her fingers to the keys.

Hand written notes were always a little harder to read, but his hand writing was neat enough if not a little scrunched. Her fingers drifted across the keys filling the room with the sound of his music. Yoongi thought his heart would stop. Hearing her play his music, in his home, it was like a dream, and she was as beautiful of a pianist as she was a cellist.

Her fingers danced across the keys, her attention fully on the music. It was enchanting, and Yoongi knew he had made the right decision as he watched her play.

She filled him with the desire to compose as well as an intense urge to protect her. She was such a sweet soul, and he hated that she’d been driven to this even if it brought him her. He would protect her though. He would always protect her.

When she finished she folded her hands gently in her lap.

“You play beautifully.”

She laughed smiling up at him contentedly. “You compose beautifully.” She complimented before looking down with a blushed. “It’s late. I should head home.” She stood up skirting around the piano bench.

“Stay.”

She froze looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. “What?”

“Stay.” He repeated. “It’s late. Stay the night.”

He could see the panic setting in as her eyes darted across the room searching for an exit. “I really should…”

He huffed amused a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her. “No funny business. It was a busy day, and I’m tired. Stay.”

He watched as she debated her option her eyes flitting between him and the door. “I don’t…”

“I’d like you to stay, but you don’t have to.” He assured her slowly making his way towards her.

“Just sleep?” She asked her voice shaking slightly.

“Just sleep.”  

She waited a minute, debating her options before sighing. “Okay.”

part 6

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts suga #bts yoongi #yandere #yandere suga #yandere yoongi #suga we're going down #suga #suga x reader #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #rapper yoongi #agust d #bts fanfic

[grumpyhedgehogs]

premonition

Summary: Ten year old Anakin dreams of the future. (It isn't bright.)

Notes: In which little Anakin dreams about Vader killing Obi-Wan on the Death Star. I love to hurt my favorites, what can I say.

Warnings: nightmares, violence, fear/panic, implied/referenced slavery and death. 

AO3

Anakin is prone to nightmares, has been since he could barely remember the difference between a dream and reality. They can be vague, like the idea of running from something chasing him, or incredibly realistic, like the nightmares he has about Watto sometimes. Sometimes they’re about things that have actually happened, like the one about the sandstorm that sealed him and his mother inside their hut for weeks once when he was five. They can even be about things that haven’t happened yet--like the one he’d had when he was five that he’d only remembered when he’d had to run across the dunes with a dark figure on a speeder dogging his footsteps.

Those are the ones that make Obi-Wan’s brow pinch and his mouth go tight and thin when Anakin tells him about them. Sometimes he looks like he’s almost angry with Anakin and that’s bad until Obi-Wan kneels down and wraps his arms around Anakin and tells him that Obi-Wan understands how upsetting the future nightmares can be and that he gets them too and it’s going to be alright. Then it’s better because Anakin’s heart starts beating again when he hugs back. So the nightmares come and they go and sometimes they make him tired and mad or scared for a long time, but Obi-Wan is here and he promised to keep Anakin safe. So it’s okay. Obi-Wan is kind and he listens when Anakin gets scared and he doesn’t yell even when Anakin gets mean because he’s angry. Obi-Wan makes sweet smelling tea and reads to him about heroes and monsters and happy endings and he tells him about his own bad dreams and says that it’s okay to be scared as long as one doesn’t let their fear control them. Obi-Wan is really good at meditation and he helps Anakin with it even though it’s hard and he can’t get the hang of dropping into a trance just yet.

But these nightmares are different.

These nightmares always start the same: Anakin is running and his chest burns with exertion and he can’t breathe quite right. The hallways around him are long and winding, all polished black and white and hard grey durasteel. Sometimes there are doors that open and faces peek out at him but they don’t look right: the faces have big black eyes and wide mouths that stretch all the way across, and their outer skin is a hard, blank white. Their heads are bulbous and their limbs are bulky and they wield blasters. Anakin runs even faster when he sees the doors are open. Sometimes there are men and women in grey suits with funny little hats walking in the halls, but Anakin passes right through them when he runs into them. He thinks maybe they’re ghosts, but not real ghosts. Ghosts are people who are dead and the Force whispers to him that they aren’t dead people. Not yet. (Sometimes they are young and the Force tells him they haven’t been born yet but that makes it hard for Anakin to concentrate on running so he tells the Force to shut up.)

Anakin’s legs ache and he trips sometimes. He skids around corners and bumps into walls that make a hollow clang when his body collides with them, like they’re all durasteel. He misses the wide open spaces and light stone of the Temple. If he stops, Anakin coughs from exhaustion, and his breath never comes fast enough and his throat feels like its swollen closed to the size of a straw. So Anakin doesn’t stop much.

At the beginning of the nightmares, he doesn’t know why he’s running or why he is where he is. Anakin always seems to forget the reason it’s so important he runs and doesn’t stop, even though he wakes up and remembers that he’s had this nightmare before every time. But the Force shouts warnings in his head, blaring like a siren, and Anakin knows he has to go. The Force tells him to go, go help, he needs your help, why won’t you help him? And Anakin tells it, mouth too dry to actually form the words, no breath left inside him to speak, I’m going, I’m trying, I want to help please I want to help just tell me how!

But this is a nightmare, so the Force never answers him.

There’s sounds in the nightmares too, shouting and footsteps and sometimes explosions, but mostly he hears blaster fire. (Anakin didn’t used to know what that sound was until a mission with Master Obi-Wan went wrong and Obi-Wan had had to curl himself up around Anakin to keep him safe from the fighting. Afterwards when they were safe he’d gotten down on his knees and his eyebrows were drawn together and his eyes were really big in his face; he’d told Anakin that he was so, so sorry that he’d led Anakin into a life-threatening situation and that they’d have to talk about this because it was alright if Anakin got scared even when they were safe and that it was never okay for an adult to make him feel unsafe and Anakin had thrown his arms around him and held on tight.) Sometimes if the blaster fire goes quiet at the right moment he can hear the ignition sound of a lightsaber. There’s another noise too, one that Anakin always forgets about until he hears it again. It makes his blood run so cold in his veins that he yelps, but his voice is too high and too quiet and all the other noise covers it.

He doesn’t want to go towards the noise that scares him, but the Force says he’s fighting! And Anakin says what can I do to help? But the Force always ignores him, just screams he’s going to lose!

Anakin runs.

His nightmares always end in the same place. It’s a bigger hallway than the ones he starts in, and there are more of those people with funny outfits and strange faces here. He can sometimes glimpse a ship in the background over their shoulders; it’s round and busted up, but it looks like it can still fly and Anakin knows that if he can just keep running, that ship will be a safe place. (Anakin only remembers that he has never made it to the ship when he wakes up.) There are stars out there too, out beyond the edges of his dream, but they are not like the stars he knows. These stars--they’re crying.

In the middle of the big hallway is the source of the sound that Anakin hates, that makes his bones shake and his heart beat so hard it nearly breaks his ribs. The figure is big, bigger than he’s ever seen, even bigger than a Wookie. It looms over him, hulking and distant. It is a black void, cold and angry and hungry. The figure makes that noise that scares Anakin because it gasps and chokes on every breath. The very air they expel and intake becomes a rasping, gagging thing that sucks at Anakin’s Light in the Force and billows out smoky Darkness. The Force tells Anakin that is a person, but not like any person should be: it’s not real, only it’s already real, it has always been real but could never be real if Anakin fixes his nightmare. (Anakin has never figured out how to fix it before he wakes.) It makes Anakin want to scream or cry or hide but the Force pulls his eyes away from the monster to look at Obi-Wan.

Because Obi-Wan is always there in these nightmares. His lightsaber is sometimes more recognizable than his Master’s face and it frightens Anakin. The kyber in the hilt of the blue 'saber sings at him, reaching tendrils of the Force out to caress at his shields, but Anakin knows he can’t open his mind to it because the other kyber crystal, the red one (they aren’t supposed to be red, Obi-Wan said so), screams, constantly and tirelessly, so loud Anakin can barely think.

Obi-Wan is sometimes just like he was when they first met. His hair is short and a Padawan braid brushes past his shoulder, which doesn’t make sense because if he were still a Padawan Anakin couldn’t be his Padawan, which Anakin very much is! His robes are all burned and scorched and he has lost his robe somewhere. He moves differently too; all gangly and awkward and his lightsaber form is too aggressive to match the one Master Obi-Wan picked up when he started training Anakin. His fighting style and youth don’t keep him safe from the crimson ‘saber.

Obi-Wan is sometimes as he is now. (Those nightmares are the worst ones.) His hair has grown out but his cheeks are still round and full. There are circles under his eyes, the ones he keeps telling Anakin not to worry about but Anakin worries about anyway, and his limbs are still a tiny bit awkward. But his ‘saber form matches and his footing is sure. But it isn’t enough and this Obi-Wan only lasts a little longer than Padawan Obi-Wan does, even if he fights harder and smarter.

Obi-Wan is sometimes older than he is now, his hair shorter than a Knight’s haircut and Anakin knows he must be the same as the monster and the people in funny clothes and with funny faces: he’s the ghost from Obi-Wan’s future, who Obi-Wan is going to be after Anakin grows up with him. He has weird bulky armor over his robes with a strange symbol on his forearm, but he moves gracefully, steady and confident even as blood slips from a cut on his temple. He looks like a statue, like he’s carved from stone; Anakin would be scared if he didn’t know it was Obi-Wan. This Obi-Wan shouts when he falls, but goes down fighting.

Obi-Wan is seldom the oldest Anakin has ever seen him. His hair is white and his face is wrinkled. He’s a future ghost too, and every time he has this nightmare the Force screams when Anakin sees him. His mouth is set in a smile which makes Anakin want to cry. His shoulders are rounded and his lightsaber form is once again different from what Anakin knows Master Obi-Wan uses now. His robes are covered in sand and dust and he looks so very tired. This Obi-Wan is the only one who reacts to Anakin’s eyes landing on him.

It always happens at the last second: Anakin slips around the monster and hurls himself towards Obi-Wan only to find his feet locked to the ground, like his boots melted and became one with the floor. He stands, stuck and still, between his Master and the monster. He wants to turn around and look at the monster, wants to see what kind of face a being that Dark in the Force must have, but he remembers the dream about running from a Sith across the sands, and he stays still. Run! He always shouts at his Master through the Force. We have to run! He’ll hurt us!

All the other Obi-Wans don’t listen or even signal that Anakin exists. They pass through him when they clash with the monster just like all the other future ghosts do. Anakin feels tears welling in his eyes but these versions of his Master don’t take notice, don’t stop and try to assess his wellbeing. They don’t know he’s even there.

Then the being surges forward, so fast that Anakin’s hair ruffles and he cringes forward, seeking the warmth of Obi-Wan in front of him, seeking the safety and concern and protectiveness that Obi-Wan has come to symbolize in his life. But the flare of plasma swings over Anakin’s head and even though he screams as the cold fills the space Obi-Wan used to occupy.

But the oldest Obi-Wan looks down at him. He stands still and lets the monster approach instead of meeting it halfway, and in that moment he sees Anakin. He always does the same thing. He raises his lightsaber in the traditional greeting pose Obi-Wan taught Anakin to do before a training match. He lets the blue light flicker and die as he cuts the switch. He smiles. And in Anakin’s mind, through the bond that glows golden and soft in the back of his head, through the Force, Obi-Wan tells him: My dear Anakin, do not be afraid.

In those versions of the nightmare Anakin always wakes up before the monster can strike his Master.

Anakin has had one of those dreams tonight. It’s the first one in several months; perhaps childishly, Anakin had thought he was getting better. (“You’re only ten, Anakin,” Obi-Wan tells him whenever he tries to be more adult. “You’re allowed to be a child.”) He has slept through the night on his own many times and he doesn’t even need a light on in the living area of their quarters anymore. But here he is, panting and sweating and cold and crying. Anakin’s shoulder hitch up around his ears and he feels the sticky tracks his tears make across his skin, cheeks overheating and aching. His legs tremble with phantom pain and his heart pounds so hard he can see it through his nightclothes. The Force is unsettled, swirling and cresting around him and his bond is too quiet, too soft even though it glows with his Master’s presence just on the other side of the wall separating their rooms.

Obi-Wan always leaves the door cracked open; he’d said it was for airflow, but Anakin isn’t stupid. He used to come in here every night to check on his Master. He’d been used to sleeping in the same room as his mother and couldn’t shake the idea that something could happen to Obi-Wan, that something could get to him while Anakin slept on blissfully unaware in the next room. Obi-Wan hated that the door creaked when Anakin opened it, so he left it open all the time. The extra measure was supposed to help Obi-Wan stay asleep when Anakin visited in the night, but every time, without fail, Obi-Wan would open his eyes before Anakin even stepped up to his bedside.

Tonight is no different. Through the shadows of his bedroom, Obi-Wan’s eyes are bright as they fix upon Anakin’s face; he can practically feel Obi-Wan’s brow cinch when he sees the tear stains. “Bad dream?” Obi-Wan’s voice is as soft as their bond, and it curls around Anakin just like his Master’s Force Signature does, soothing the whirling, whimpering Force and bolstering his shields.  

“Nightmare.”

Obi-Wan does not point out that his answer comes on the end of a sob and opens his arms instead. The blankets settle around Anakin’s shoulders, almost too hot from Obi-Wan’s body heat. Still he presses closer and Obi-Wan welcomes him, curling an arm around him and rubbing at his back. He sighs, making a wet little noise against the crook of his Master’s neck. Obi-Wan holds on just a little tighter. It makes something in Anakin’s chest clench.

“Rest now, Padawan.”

Before Obi-Wan can finish, before he can say the words Anakin knows he will say because he says them every time, Anakin makes himself a promise. He locks his fingers into the collar of Obi-Wan’s nightshirt and feels the too hot warmth of his skin and hearts the soft breaths above his head and the rustle of the bedclothes as Obi-Wan tucks them both in and he promises himself. He promises, I will keep you safe. He promises, I’ll save you from the monster, Master. He promises, We can fight it together, Obi-Wan.

But the words that fall from Obi-Wan’s lips every time he has a nightmare always make Anakin shake with a cloying, cold darkness he cannot rid himself of.

“My dear Anakin, do not be afraid.”

#anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #anakin and obi wan #star wars #sw #tcw #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #star wars fanfic #darth vader #child's perspective writing #my writing #friendship #brotherhood #pro-jedi #master and padawan #young anakin #young obi-wan #angst #hurt/comfort #referenced slavery #violence #canon typical violence #death #nightmares #dreams #premonitions #sharing a bed #literal sleeping together #fluff

[amphxtrite]

cedric diggory x fem!reader

part one: Never Let You Go. (smut)

warnings: mentions of smut (but not actually smut), swearing, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

summary: Life with Cedric leading up to your graduation is pretty normal, except for the fact you hide the fact that you’re dating. With amortentia, avoiding practice for cuddles and a graduation dance coming up, how long can this relationship stay a secret.

a/n: thank you to the wonderful @mullthingsoverinthehotwater for this idea and all the help! She’s amazing go check her out!!

word count: 3.4k

tag list:@cupidpoison @wonderful-writer @coldlilheart @inglourious-imagines @evisbored @mayaleon0614 @dogsandrocketsocks

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

Waking up in the arms of a lover is the most ethereal feeling you could imagine, a safe feeling, so comfortable and warm, even with the slight pain that poked at you when you tried to move your legs.

As you lay next to Cedric the sun rose through the clouds and casted an angelic glow on the hufflepuff’s sculpted face, it almost felt like you were in the presence of something divine, and just as mortals were in tales of of the gods, you were curious and wished to touch the miraculous boy before you. Tracing his jawline and pink lips a smile grows before he begins to stir and a light sigh rings as he awakes.

“Good morning love.” He yawns, his raspy morning voice bringing butterflies to your stomach. “What are you doing?” He smirks looking at your thumb tracing his cheek.

“Just admiring you darling.” You giggle leaning over to press a chaste kiss to the brunette’s lips. Cedric chuckles and pulls you closer against his chest, burying his face in your neck and sighing at your sweet scent.

“We should probably get you back to your room darling, we still have class today and I’d hate to make you late.” The gray-eyed boy smirks a bit, pressing a kiss to your nose before sitting upright on the bed. “Alright.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out before standing and walking towards the door, pausing when a thought crosses your mind.

“H-Hey do you mind if we keep this between us for now?” You start, a little nervous. ”I don’t think I can take any gossip right now, and I can’t have the school knowing I’m shagging the dreamiest boy at Hogwarts, they’ll hate me!” You finish with a light laugh.

Cedric can’t help but chuckle at your cheeky comment, walking over to peck your cheek before whispering. “Of course love, whenever you’re ready.”

__________

Learning magic at Hogwarts was a dream come true for you; Charms and Transfiguration were marvellous and fascinating. Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic were interesting and fun, but your favourite class, by far, was potions. Despite the potion master’s snide comments and constant eye rolls, brewing concoctions that had the properties to create and destroy was an amazing feeling. A potion has the ability to heal things even the most powerful charms cannot, they can change your form without the need to transfigure, and even break the fates to bring luck to anyone, and in that class you had the ability to do it all.

“Today, we will be brewing a very famous potion, and a very difficult one at that.” Professor Snape’s usual drone begins at the beginning of the lesson.

“Now since you are the NEWT class, I expect absolute perfection, I will write the instructions on the board and you can brew and figure out the identity of the potion with your partner. Begin.”

Excitement bubbles in you as you begin to jot down the information. You and your partner gather your supplies and begin to cut, mix and sprinkle your ingredients into the cauldron.

The distinct smell of wood combined with freshly cleaned laundry and fresh air soon floods your nose and it was as though you were on cloud nine, the scent brought a calmness to you, a safe feeling; the person connected to it was just on the tip of your tongue. A wood like aftershave, clean clothes that had swallowed you whole and the type of air only a seeker gets flying after a snitch.

Cedric peers over to you across the classroom to see you smiling at your cauldron, a dopey smile on your face. He cocks his eye brow in confusion, but as he adds the finishing touches to the bubbling liquid he immediately understands. He’s instantly transported to your arms, the scent of your intoxicating shampoo surrounding every inch of him along with chocolate and a hint of that strawberry chapstick he tasted on your lips while ravaging you in the shower. A blush immediately floods the hufflepuff’s cheeks, and suddenly his pants get a little tight.

“Mr. Diggory, since it’s quite… Obvious, you smell the amortentia. Tell us what your aroma is.”

Hoping Snape isn’t implying the tent in his pants, Cedric slaps on a small grin.

“Sweet shampoo, chocolate and strawberry chapstick sir.” He manages to nod, as Snape raises an eyebrow. “Intriguing. Miss l/n and Miss Macavoy, you were first to finish, what do you smell?”

Your partner, Heidi Macavoy’s face lights up. “Fresh parchment, Honeydukes, and broom polish.” Snape nods, looking over to you.

“I smell aftershave, clean laundry and fresh air sir.” Your eyebrows furrow for a moment when it finally hits you. There was only one person that fit that scent, in fact the only aftershave you’ve ever smelt. Cedric. Your smile widens.

The professor nods with a sigh, folding his arms and walking back to the blackboard to write. “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. Now, I would like you to write a paper on the properties of amortentia and how each ingredient factors into giving the potion it’s unique qualities. The rest of class will be for finishing your potions and starting your writing...” Snape concludes the lesson.

__________

Months pass and everyday grows closer to your graduation. Your relationship with Cedric is kept quiet, but you manage to steal kisses in dark corridors and meet in the night. Oftentimes you spend evenings in the prefect’s shower, using the sound of running water to hide desperate moans and dirty actions, but it still gets hard to remember in public you’re only friends.

Cedric adores teasing you in public, running his hand up and down your thigh underneath the table and flirting insufferably with you everyday.

“Well hello there gorgeous, where are you off to today?” He’d tease every morning.

“Oh shut it Diggory.” You’d sigh as Cedric leaned closer to your ear.

“That’s quite hypocritical to the person screaming my name last night.”

Leaving you a flushed mess for the rest of the morning. Cedric respected your want to keep the relationship a secret, he knew he was popular as it is, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun with you. He loved it when you gave him the warning glare if he ever tried his luck in public, and the blush he left after teasing you brought a huge smirk to his face every time. And any chance he got, whether alone or in public, he loved to bring up your amortentia.

“Aftershave, laundry and fresh air huh?” He’d grin down to you, a playful look in his eyes. “Oh Merlin here we go again.” You’d sigh, readying yourself for the cheeky comments.

“Sounds like you smelled the dreamiest boy at Hogwarts!��

__________

The Winter snow took over the Autumn leaves and Hogwarts became a winter wonderland, sweaters were swapped with cloaks, runners became boots and scarfs covered the necks of each student in the school. Unless you were a quidditch player. The captains of each team were still determined to win the quidditch cup, and Cedric was no exception. Everyday was filled with drills, plays and scrimmages that left your muscles sore and your nose frozen from the winter cold. Cedric left no time to stare at the falling snow and each practice somehow left the team shivering and sweating all together.

You couldn’t blame each of the captains for wanting to earn the cup and lead their house to victory, but when Cedric went captain mode it seriously made it seem like you were going to be stuck by your goal post for the rest of the winter.

“Ced, it’s blizzarding outside.” You sigh as the brunette began pulling on his uniform.

“Can we please just take today off? We’ve trained everyday for the past 3 weeks!” Cedric seems to hesitate. “I-I know love, but-“

“Cedric, you know you’re overworking yourself, c’mon let’s just take today off alright?” You stick your bottom lips out in a pout and make grabby hands towards the tall hufflepuff.

“Alright love, because you asked so nicely.” He smirks and collapses back into your arms. He wouldn’t admit it, but you were right, his hands still ached from holding the broom too tight and Merlin were his feet cold. You smile before relaxing into your darling’s arms.

__________

As Winter shifted to spring, the subject of graduation became of the utmost importance.

“Graduating class! As you know at each graduation ceremony there is a ball and banquet. I expect proper behaviour, and represent hufflepuff well. It was a pleasure having you here with us.”

Professor Sprout’s speech comes to an end as the graduating students of hufflepuff cheered and applauded their head of house.

“Are we allowed to bring dates to the ball? A person not the fruit I mean.” Another student calls to Sprout as a couple kids laugh. “Of course! You can bring any of the graduating class, of any house, with you.” The short professor smiles and turns to chat with a girl.

Cedric immediately turns to find you in the crowd, smiling excitedly at you, only to see a worried expression on your face.

“Are you alright?” He asks, walking closer to check on you.

“Can we talk a sec?” You pull the Head boy by the arm to a deserted area, away from prying eyes and take a deep breath.

“Cedric, I really want to go to this ball with you, but I'm nervous about what people would think of me.” You begin cracking your knuckles in an anxious manner, biting on your lips as everything that could go wrong plagues your mind.

“Darling.” Cedric smiles and takes your hands into his. “Who cares what people say? I’d be honoured to have you by my side. If you’ll have me that is.” Cedric looks around for anyone before falling to his knee and kissing your hand. “Y/n, I absolutely adore you, and I could not care less what little minded people have to say. Accompany me to the ball?” The hufflepuff’s eyes fill with hope and love and you knew then, he was right. Cedric was your sunshine and no one could take him away from you.

“Yes Cedric! Yes I’ll go to the ball with you.”

__________

It was decided the two of you would show up together at the ball to ‘announce’ your relationship, but until then you’d stay on the down low.

It was hard seeing girl after girl walk up to Cedric with hope in their eyes only to be rejected in the nicest way possible. You were happy Cedric was yours, but some of these girls were gorgeous and sweet and it made you want to hide your face when they’d walk away dejected; although a small part of your brain jumped for joy when Cedric would discreetly look at you and wink after each confession. As each day grew warmer, so did your heart. Excitement flourished and each day held pure joy that you were one step closer to a future with Cedric.

__________

The Hogsmeade weekend before the graduation ceremony finally arrived and just like most of the graduates you rushed to find the perfect outfit before everything was gone. There were quite a few clothing shops at the village, but your favourite was the small shop towards the end of the street. A small business run by a mum and her family. You enter the shop and the smell of cinnamon and sugar greets you.

“Y/n!” Two little voices call out and two young girls make a beeline for you.

“How are my two little princesses?” You giggle, kneeling down to their level to wrap the small children in your arms.

Coming to the shop often helped you grow close to the family in charge, they were so kind and always had exactly what you were looking for.

“Where’s your mum kiddos?” You ask just as Melina, the owner and mum of the two girls, comes rushing towards you.

“Good to see you y/n dear, now you two run along while I help our little graduate.” She smiles at the girls who hug you one last time before running off to find something to play with.

“Looking for a dress i’m guessing?” Melina laughs and begins walking towards a shelf in the back. “You know me too well Mellie.” You smirk, trailing behind the brunette. Mellie brings her finger to her chin as she begins searching, her eyes full of concentration, shifting to success as she pulls a f/c gown from the rack.

“I knew this day was coming, so I made this dress especially for you.” She grins, holding the dress out to you.

Immediately you wrap your arms around her, and thank her like your life depended on it. This was by far one of the most thoughtful things someone had done for you, and it made you emotional. With small tears running down your face you pull back. “Thank you so much Mellie, it’s gorgeous.”

You giddily run for the change room and pull yourself into the gown. The f/c contrasts your skin beautifully and the shape accentuates your curves, bringing out a newfound confidence and you find yourself admiring yourself. Twirling, laughing and picturing yourself dancing with Cedric.

Despite her insisting it was a gift, you press the galleons for the full price into her hand, hugging her and the kids one last time before walking out of the store, dress in your arms. You stop at Honeydukes for a treat before making the trip back to the castle.

__________

Cedric wanted to make sure he was dressed appropriately for the ceremony, and his suit from last year just wasn’t going to cut it. He scourges every clothing shop in the Hogsmeade vicinity only to be met with empty shelves or nothing in his size. He’s about to give up and wear his old suit when a small shop catches his eye.

“Worth a shot.” He murmurs before pushing open the door. “Hello, I’m looking for a suit.” He greets the woman at the front.

“Oh you must be graduating as well. I’m Melina, please follow me.” She gives the brunette a warm, motherly smile before leading him to a rack.

“I just had a girl come in for her graduation outfit as well. Do you know y/n?”

Cedric let’s his smile shine through when your name is mentioned and turns to Melina.

“I do actually, I’m the lucky guy who gets to go to the ball with her.”

Melina’s eyes light up and she immediately rushes towards a suit towards the end of the aisle.

“Perfect, I had a lot of extra fabric when I made her dress, so I tailored a suit to go with it.” She rushes towards Cedric, pulling a tape measure from her apron pocket. Cedric raises his arms and allows the woman to take his measurements, an excited smile gracing his face.

“It’ll be a little tight in the chest, but other than that it’s a perfect fit!”

Melina quickly pushes Cedric into a change room and the brunette shrugs on the dress shirt and jacket before pulling on the pants and the cape-like overcoat. He nodded to himself in the mirror. This was perfect and he knew you’d love to see him in your favourite colour.

__________

The night of your graduation ceremony arrived and every seventh year was preparing themselves for the night ahead. Some were fretting over hair and makeup while others were content with just showing up and having fun. You were in your room with a couple of your friends, helping each other with outfits and makeup.

“Hold still Sebastian, I'm almost done with the eyeliner!” You scold the blonde as he fiddles with his fingers. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just ticklish.”

You smile and feel a tug on your scalp.

“Gently Heids, you’re gonna rip out my hair.”

Everyone began to laugh and slowly but surely you all got dressed and prepared for the long night ahead. You slowly make your way to the great hall, arms linked with your friends and laughs ringing from everyone. Once at the doors you split up in search of your dates. You spot Cedric’s mop of brown curls and quickly make you way closer to him.

“Nice suit.” You smile and turn back to your date, smiling at the colour choice and design.

“Thanks I got it from Melina.” He grins proudly, pulling a corsage from behind his back and clasping it around your wrist.

“No wonder we’re matching!” You laugh and move your wrist around admiring the flowers. Cedric smiles as he takes in your dress, thanking his lucky stars for whatever he did to deserve such an angel like you.

“Well, you ready milady?” Cedric grins offering his arm to you. “As I’ll ever be milord.”

You take in a deep breath and push open the doors to the hall.

Bright lights flood your vision and happy cheers sound in your ears, people laughing, dancing and drinking, and overall having a great time. Your face lights up and you begin to pull Cedric faster through the room. There were quite a few eyes staring in your direction. Emotions ranging from envy, sadness, disbelief and awe were all noticed when you stepped inside with the Hogwarts Champion, golden student and Head boy on your arm. You could hear whispers claiming you to be fake, an attention seeker or whore, and a frown begins to tug at your lips. Cedric takes notice and quickly wraps you into his arms gazing at you with love filled eyes as everyone else fades away. The anxiety and disappointment evaporates and soon it was just you and Cedric swaying in the middle of the dance floor. Many of your friends shoot you thumbs ups and congratulated the two of you, but all you could focus on was the gray eyes that pulled you into a trance. When the two of you glided across the hall you could’ve exploded with happiness, Cedric ignored even his best mates just to keep on dancing with you. His eyes were glued to you and only you as your face lit up and your eyes shone like stars. He was reminded of the Yule Ball from last year and how he awkwardly danced with you, trying not to look directly into your eyes in fear of getting lost and tripping up.

If his past self could see him now Cedric was sure his mouth would be agape with an unshakable grin. the brunette kept on pinching himself just to make sure you were really in his arms looking into his eyes as if he was your world. It got to the point he couldn’t help but pull you into him and dip you into a low kiss.

So much had happened in just a couple days. He’d won a quidditch game and your affection, he made love to you in a shower, cuddled you in his bed, and smelled you in his amortentia. And while all those things were amazing, he didn’t need one more hint you were the one for him. He had fallen in love with you, and when he looked to the future, the only one he could see by his side was you; In front of him when he knelt to propose, Beside him in a white dress and a veil, holding your children in your arms and growing gray and old with him. His silver eyes found themselves tearing up as he deepened the kiss and held you there in place. The sound of whooping and groaning drowned out, and you smiled into the sentimental kiss, cupping the hufflepuff’s cheek in your hand as you wiped away his tears.

“I love you y/n, so much.” Cedric murmurs against your lips, trying to hold back his tears as you stood so beautifully before him, drying his tears and smiling that perfect smile.

“I love you too Cedric, more than you’ll ever know.” you respond adoringly.

The ceremony began and every student cried in joy at the fact they were now graduates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You held onto Cedric’s hand all night and as the party came to an end, you toasted to the night and all the bright days ahead.

With the newfound freedom to just be a couple, Cedric pulls you away from the dance early and with a laugh, leads you to his dorm and places you onto his bed. The rest of the evening was dedicated to your sinful thoughts and desires as lust broke free.

No one saw you for the rest of the night.

#cedric diggory #harry potter imagine #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fluff #cedric x y/n #cedric x you #cedricsbrowncurls #cedric diggory fanfiction #fanfic #hogwarts #part 2

[kanerallels]

"There is no unspoken thing between us."

"Well, that's a Catch-22. Because if you said there was, it would be spoken, and then you'd be a liar. So by saying there isn't, you're telling the truth, and admitting there is."

Marvel quote—and you know which couple this is for 😉

Oh, you KNOW I do!!!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: 3,559

Warnings/Tags: Rated G (for the fetching green vest Kanan's wearing)

Read on AO3!

Having deep cover operatives in the Empire was an important part of running a spy network. They gave Kanan some of his best information and helped him sneak the objects of the Empire’s rage right out from under the ISB’s nose more often than not.

But it could be a little inconvenient when he needed to pick up data from them. Because it almost inevitably involved him getting into some kind of ridiculous disguise and sneaking into some place the Empire didn’t want him in.

Case in point, he thought wryly, smoothing down the front of the fancy vest he was wearing over his dress shirt. “How do I look?” he asked, his voice quiet enough that none of the guests around him could hear.

“Ridiculous as always,” Kasmir’s voice came from the earpiece he wore, and Kanan rolled his eyes. The rest of the Yellow Submarine’s crew had demanded that he wear it, partially because they were bored and partially because Kasmir claimed Kanan had a habit of not giving them proper updates about what was going on. So they’d hacked the security cameras, and Kanan was set up with an earpiece. “Otherwise you’re fine. Remind me what your plan is again?”

Claiming a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter, Kanan muttered, “Blend in while I wait for our contact to drop off the intel at the dead drop, then go there as soon as I get the signal. After that I get the kriff out of here as soon as possible.”

As he took a drink of the bubbly drink, Ezra said, “Sounds boring. Actually, this whole party looks boring. Just a bunch of grown ups in fancy clothing drinking alcohol and sucking up to each other.”

“Welcome to adult parties for the rich and tyrannical,” Kasmir told him, and Kanan had to stifle a grin. “They all suck.”

Unfortunately, Kanan couldn’t disagree. The Empire’s parties mainly consisted of flaunting their fabulousness to everyone else, but really just came off as self-absorbed. Luckily for him, this particular party had been incredibly easy to sneak into.

Taking another sip from the champagne glass, Kanan swept a glance around the room again-- and spotted his contact. The light-haired man, clad in a dark dress uniform, swept out of a door, his steps brisk and business-like as he passed by. He didn't give Kanan a backwards glance, but Kanan could tell he knew he was there.

“Alright, I'm on the move,” he said softly.

“About time,” Kasmir complained. “This is incredibly boring.”

Stepping through the doorway his contact had come out of, Kanan pointed out, “You're the ones who wanted to listen in.”

“Yeah, but I prefer blaming you,” the Kalleran said as Kanan moved into the room. It was some kind of sitting room, with a few armchairs here and there, and a small table in one corner.

Tuning out Kasmir, who was continuing to grumble, Kanan began searching the room. The table turned up nothing, so he moved to one of the armchairs. Dropping into it, he slid his hands down the side and into the cracks. A grin spread across his face as one hand encountered a slim rectangular shape. Bingo.

Pulling the datacard out, Kanan slipped it into the pocket of his vest. Cutting off Kasmir, he said, “I've got the intel. On my way out.”

He slipped out of the sitting room again, and a quick glance around the room made it clear that he’d been neither missed nor spotted. Time to get out of here, he thought.

Making a beeline for the door, Kanan paused to swipe a mini jogan cream cake from a waiter. He popped it in his mouth-- and nearly choked at the sound of a familiar laugh. A far too familiar laugh.

Spinning around, Kanan searched the crowd behind him. No way. No kriffing way. But even as he thought it, his gaze landed on where a handful of people were dancing to the elegant music in the background. And his eyes were drawn to a green-skinned Twi’lek woman, dancing with an Imperial officer and wearing a smile he knew had to be fake.

Some kind of makeup obscured the markings on Hera’s lekku, and she was a ways away from Kanan, but he’d recognize her anywhere. Especially that voice, which he could hear speaking in her native Ryl accent even from that distance. Who knew she had an accent? He mused.

“KANAN!!”

Kanan nearly jumped when he heard Kasmir shout his name in his earpiece. “Kriffing-- don’t do that,” he hissed, turning away from the crowd so no one would see him moving his lips.

“What are you hesitating for? It’s time to get out of there,” Kasmir urged. “We’re not even supposed to be here, ya know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Kanan said. “I just, uh, might not be back right away.”

“What? Why not-- oooh. Mini kid, check the cams.”

“On it!” Ezra chirped in the background.

Ignoring them, Kanan turned back to the crowd, scanning until he spotted Hera again, still dancing with the same Imp, her movements graceful. What is she doing here? If someone spots her-- okay, calm down, Kanan. She can take care of herself, and you’re not technically responsible for watching her back.

No matter how much you wished you were, whispered some part of him, the part of him that occasionally told him to please forget all of the spy stuff and talk to Hera.

In his ear, there was a gasp. “I KNEW IT. Hera’s here, guys!!!” Ezra’s voice was unreasonably excited as he spoke. “What is she doing here? Kanan, does she know you’re here? Are you gonna talk to her? What do you think she’ll--”

“Kasmir,” Kanan said, cutting off his apprentice, “I’m going off coms. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“You’re doing WHAT? Wait, kid, don’t you dare--”

Kasmir's voice was abruptly cut off as Kanan plucked his earpiece out and stuck it in his pocket. He had no doubt he'd be getting a good chewing out over this later from Kasmir. But Kanan also had a feeling it would be worth it.

He headed toward the dancers, weaving through the crowd and keeping his gaze locked on Hera. As he drew closer, he felt his heartbeat pick up slightly.

Hera was always beautiful, there was no denying that. When Kanan had first met her, he'd been literally incapable of speech standing across from her. And he had a feeling he was going to have a very similar problem now.

She wore a dark red dress, the short sleeves made of a dark gauzy fabric. Silver lace patterns covered the whole thing, shimmering in the light with Hera's every movement. It was mesmerizing.

Kanan suddenly realized he was staring. Kriff. Alright, try and focus, Jarrus.

Slipping past a few more guests, he stepped out of the crowd and onto the dance floor just as Hera and her partner moved up near him. “May I cut in?” he asked.

The Imperial officer dancing with Hera looked like he wanted to argue, but one glance at Kanan changed his mind quickly. He stepped back, and Kanan moved forward smoothly, sweeping Hera back into the dance.

Hera’s gaze flicked up to him, a demure smile crossing her face-- and Kanan saw the moment when she realized it was him and not some Imperial. “Wha-- Kanan?”

~ ~ ~

As Hera gaped at him in shock, she saw a grin crossing Kanan’s face. “I’d bet this is the last place you expected to see me,” he said, his deep voice low and remarkably self satisfied.

“You could say that,” Hera agreed, recovering quickly.

It hadn’t been too difficult to slip into the party. All Hera had had to do was bat her eyelashes a few times and the Imps were basically falling over themselves to let her in. While it was useful, it did also get on her nerves a little, even if she was used to the way most people looked at her species these days.

Kanan, on the other hand, didn’t exactly have the same qualifications. Frowning, she asked, “How did you get in here?”

“Does it matter?” Kanan kept his voice low as they kept dancing, and Hera had to admit-- he was a good dancer, better than she would have expected.

He was also dressed better than she would have expected-- a crisp olive green dress shirt, the sleeves pushed up, under an emerald green vest with a high collar, trousers of the same olive green, and brown boots. His hair was back in it’s usual ponytail, and he wore a slight grin.

He looked good-- which Hera would never give him the satisfaction of admitting. She would only admit to herself how her heartbeat sped up slightly at his proximity, at the feeling of his hand resting on her waist.

Taking a quick breath, she said, “Probably not. Although I do wonder what you’re doing here, I have to admit.”

“Free hors d’oeuvres,” Kanan said breezily. “Nothing tastes better than expensive Imperial wine, especially when you’re not supposed to drink it. How about you? I have a feeling you’re not here for the canapes, or whatever they’re serving.”

“Not exactly,” Hera said. “But I’m not sure talking to you about it is the best idea. After all, you’ve made it very clear you’re not interested.”

“Really? That’s what you think? I thought you knew that wasn’t true at all.”

Giving him a look, Hera said, “In the cause.”

“Oh, that.” Kanan made a face. “I liked what I was talking about better.”

“I’m sure you did.”

A slight smile curved Kanan’s mouth, and he studied her for a few seconds as they danced. “When are we going to do something about this unspoken thing we have going on?”

“What?” Hera blinked, surprised that he’d actually said something. “No-- there’s no unspoken thing between us.”

Shrugging, Kanan deftly spun her out as he said, “Well, that’s a Catch-22, because if you said there was, it would be spoken and you’d be a liar. So by saying there isn’t--” he pulled her back in, this time closer than she had been. Hera felt her heartbeat pick up again at the sheer closeness of him.

“--you’re telling the truth and admitting there is,” Kanan finished. His gaze caught hers, and he studied her for a moment with those teal eyes of his. Hera saw his eyes drop to her lips, and caught her breath, wondering for a moment what he would do, and how she would react to it.

Focus, Hera, she told herself sternly. You need to finish up here and get back to the crew. Clearing her throat, she said, “I don’t really have time for your flirting, dear. I have a mission to finish, sooner rather than later.”

“What’s your rush?” Kanan asked lightly.

“Well, let’s just say I have a new crew member, and I’d prefer to get back before she destroys the ship,” Hera said wryly. “She’s a little… temperamental.”

“Sounds like fun,” Kanan said. “Alright, how can I help?”

Giving Kanan an unimpressed look, Hera said, “We just had this conversation. You don’t want anything to do with the cause.”

“You know me so well,” Kanan said, smirking. “But I’m not doing this for the cause. Trust me.”

The pointed intonation at the end of his sentence didn’t really surprise Hera. However, that wasn’t exactly about to change her answer. “That’s not terribly reassuring,” she said.

“Hey, you know I’m capable,” Kanan pointed out. “And you don’t have to trust me here. But I’m willing to help.

“Alright-- what are you asking in return?” Hera asked.

To her surprise, a stung look flashed across Kanan’s face. “Nothing. I’m not always looking for some kind of payout, you know.”

Kriff. Hera grimaced, well aware she’d put her foot in her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said, coming to a stop on the dance floor and making sure she had Kanan’s attention. “That was stupid of me. You’re right, and I should have seen it. I know you better than that.”

And she did, strange though it seemed.

“Thanks,” Kanan said quietly, his voice serious for once. He paused, then said, “Now where are we going?”

Hera paused, darting a glance around the room. Luckily, the owner of the house was distracted at the bar. “This way,” she told him, grabbing him by the hand. She pulled him off the dance floor and through the crowd, heading for a door on the far side of the room. Kanan followed her willingly, and together they slipped through the door in question.

The door led them into a dark hallway, and Hera led the way forward, Kanan on her heels. “Let’s hope we don’t run into any other party-goers,” she muttered. “This could be a potential awkward situation.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I hear public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” Kanan suggested, and Hera let out a sigh.

“Do you ever stop?”

“Not unless I have to. What’s the plan here?”

“I’m trying to break into the main office,” Hera told him. “It should be a little ways away from here. All you need to do is watch my back. Oh, and come up with a good excuse if we’re caught.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Kanan said easily. “Just lead the way, Captain Hera.”

They didn’t have far to go before they reached the door Hera had been looking for, and stepped inside. The office was large and elaborate, with wood panelling and an extremely expensive vase on the desk.

Moving behind the desk, Hera booted up the console and pulled up her skirt to reveal the holster strapped to her leg, holding her blaster and a datacard to download the intel she needed. Pulling out the datacard, she glanced at Kanan, fully expecting him to be watching her.

To her surprise, he had his gaze fixed on the door, and was rather steadfastly not looking at her. Maybe he’s got a bit of chivalry left after all, Hera mused. Who would have thought?

She let her skirt drop and inserted the datacard into the console, tapping at the screen to find the information she needed. “This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes,” she told Kanan.

Glancing back at Hera, Kanan said, “Well, that’s good. This way, we might have time for something else. Maybe a little more dancing, that kind of thing.”

“What part of ‘I need to get back to my ship before a teenage Mandalorian tears it to pieces’ did you not understand?” Hera shot back.

“Oh, come on,” Kanan said with a sigh. “Seriously, though-- when was the last time you did anything for yourself instead of your cause? You deserve a night off.”

“And it just happens to be with you?” Hera said, feeling a smile twitch across her lips in spite of herself.

Kanan shrugged nonchalantly, a gleam in his eye. “It’s an added bonus.”

“Hmm.” For a moment, Hera let herself think about what it would be like to just spend the rest of the night out. Dancing, food, maybe a little flirting. It sounded fun. Like something she might have done in a different world, if she hadn’t been fighting the Empire, and she’d met Kanan under different circumstances. “That sounds… nice. Fun, even.”

“Can’t let the Empire stop you from having fun,” Kanan pointed out, leaning against the desk as he caught her gaze. “I’ll buy you a drink. Who knows, you might even enjoy yourself--”

Then Hera saw him freeze, his eyes going wide. “What is--” she started, and the door hissed open.

“Wha-- what are you doing in here?” demanded a brusque Imperial voice, and the owner of the house stalked into view. Hera saw a “well, kriff” expression flash across Kanan’s face.

“Wait-- are you--” the owner started. Moving fast, Kanan grabbed the vase on the desk, spun around and smashed it over the man’s head.

As the Imp crumpled to the ground, Kanan turned to Hera. “Time to go,” he said.

“Definitely,” Hera said as the console let out a beep. “I have what I need anyways.” Pulling out the datacard, she slipped it back into her holster, and she and Kanan made for the door.

They hadn’t gotten far before an alarm started going off. “Looks like we’ve been spotted,” Kanan muttered, his brows furrowing.

“Do you have a ride out of here?” Hera asked.

“Yeah-- follow me.”

Kanan headed back the way they’d come, pushing open the door that lead into the room where the party was being held. Hera hesitated for a second, then darted after him as he shouldered his way through the somewhat confused crowd.

They’d made it halfway through the crowd when the doors burst open, and an irate voice shouted, “STOP THAT TWI’LEK!!”

Hera heard Kanan breathe a curse quietly as she pulled her blaster out from under her dress. “Keep things stealthy until we don’t have to,” she muttered.

“Yeah, that’s going really well so far,” he hissed.

“You’re the one who smashed a vase over someone’s head!”

“Well, you shot down my other idea!”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Hera said, “So help me, you’re going to drive me--”

She was cut off by a hand clamping down onto her shoulder. “Here she is!” someone shouted. “I’ve caught the intrud-- ugh!”

Hera spun smoothly, twisting away from the man who’d grabbed her, and slammed her fist into his throat. As the man dropped to the ground, clutching at his throat, Kanan grabbed her by the hand and pulled her forward. “Remind me never to make you that mad,” he said.

“You’ve come very close, dear,” Hera shot back.

“Have I mentioned you look amazing tonight?”

“You’re not helping your situation. Wait-- are we heading for the window?”

“You’re about to find out how I got into this place,” Kanan said, a grim smile crossing his face.

Releasing Hera’s hand, he didn’t stop in his tracks as he grabbed a bar stool and heaved it through the window, shattering the glass. Shards of it flew everywhere, and Hera heard screams as Kanan came to a stop next to the window.

“Come on!” he said, holding out his hand.

Hera darted forward, glancing down as Kanan’s hand wrapped around hers. A speeder was parked a few feet below them. “Creative,” she observed.

“I’m a creative guy,” Kanan quipped, then ducked as blaster fire zipped past them. Lifting her own blaster, Hera shot back at the stormtroopers who were flooding into the room. “Time to go!” Kanan said, and jumped, Hera leaping after him.

They landed in the speeder in an undignified pile, and Kanan immediately scrambled into the passenger’s seat. “Get us out of here!”

“On it,” Hera said, switching on the speeder and tossing Kanan her blaster. “Make yourself useful, please!”

“Yes, Captain Hera,” Kanan said, lifting his blaster and firing at the stormtroopers that were crowding into the window. Hera let out a triumphant sound as the engines roared to life.

“We’re out of here.” Slamming on the acceleration, they leaped forward. Kanan let out an undignified yelp, and Hera suppressed a smile as they zipped away from the building and into traffic.

It didn’t take them long to disappear, out of sight from the Imperials. Leaning back in his seat, Kanan remarked, “It’s been way too long since I’ve flown with you. You’re still as incredible as you used to be.”

Hera felt a small smile flash across her face. Kanan’s real compliments were somehow much nicer than his casual flirting. “Thanks. Now, where are we heading?”

“You can drop me off up here,” Kanan said, pointing. “It’s not technically my speeder, so you can take it wherever you need to go.” Pausing, he added, “Or we could find something to eat. Have a drink, maybe…”

Hera found herself hesitating, to her own surprise. Because part of her wanted to say yes, which she definitely didn’t expect. Maybe some of that flirting was actually starting to rub off on her.

But at the end of the day, she was working with the Rebellion, and Kanan refused to commit to something like that. And she really did have to get back. “Not this time,” she said, bringing them to a stop at the roadside. “I have work to do. Thank you, though, for your help with this.”

“Any time,” Kanan said, giving her a half-smile. “Until next time, Captain Hera.” Catching hold of her hand, he bent down and pressed a gentle kiss against the back of it.

Hera’s eyes widened, a slight flush spreading over her at the unexpected gesture, and Kanan shot her a wink. “Couldn’t let you leave without a souvenir, could I?” He vaulted over the side of the speeder and headed down the street, looking supremely satisfied.

Despite herself, Hera felt a smile crossing her face. Typical Kanan. Gunning the engines, she took off down the street, heading back to the Ghost and her next mission. Trying to pretend like a certain gunslinger wasn’t still in the back of her mind.

She had a feeling that wouldn’t work very well, though. Kanan never made things like that easy. But Hera was starting to wonder if she actually minded.

#hera syndulla #kanan jarrus #swr #star wars rebels #star wars #111 followers celebration #sw rebels #sw rebels fan fic #swr fan fic #kanera #kanera is love kanera is life #steve miller au #it was dope. the end

[foulbelieverwerewolf]

Mick- Pickup Truck

note- In this I made a lot of stuff up regarding plot details, if you’ve seen the show you’ll know. I don’t know if anyone will see this but if you do please do request something for this character if you’d like. I’ll do pretty much anything. 

You look out the window and see Mick’s truck in the drive, deciding you want to go down and see him craving some affection. You’d had a pretty taxing day so far studying for finals and a hug from Mick would be the best medicine. You head downstairs seeing Rio in the living room, ‘Rioooooo?’ He laughs, ‘yes love?’ you give him a big smile, ‘Where’s Micky?’ He looks to the door, ‘he just went to the garage darlin’, you nod, ‘okay thanks!’ you skip out the door and sit in the back of the truck waiting for Mick to finish whatever he was doing. He would never say no to you but you hated interrupting him in the middle of his work. Rio was important to him and to you so you didn’t meddle. But you needed him right now. You lean back on your hands in the truck and huff, ‘ugh, what a day’ you rub your eyes and run your hands over your face and go back to leaning on them. You were wearing a pretty lousy outfit considering you’d been cooped up in Mick’s room studying all day. You were in a pair of black shorts, a white tank top and some slides. You had your hair in a plait but you did put some earrings on, determined to look semi decent. Comfort was more important than everything when studying so who cares what you looked like anyway? You lay back swinging your legs, you close your eyes and hum your favourite song. It was a lovely day and the sun felt amazing on your skin. You yawn, you’d been up since 6.30am, you worked best in the morning. A few minutes pass until you hear some footsteps coming up the drive, please be Mick. ‘Y/n?’ Yess, you think to yourself. You sit up leaning on your hands again, you peer over your sunglasses taking in his appearance. He was wearing a flannel but it was open his amazing body on show, black jeans and working boots. He had a towel over his shoulder and a bit of a sweat on. ‘Fuck’, you whisper to yourself, biting your lip. You only came to say hi but now you had other ideas. He drops the spanner he was holding next to you and wipes his face with the towel throwing that down too. He extends his arms out and you take his hands, he slowly pulls you so your sitting up, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean up to kiss him. He pulls you forward gently with his hands on your waist, you wrap your legs around his waist to get closer and press your lips to his. The kiss is soft and very affectionate, he rubs your sides soothingly and you smile into the kiss. He lifts you off the truck and turns so he is sat there with you in his lap instead. The position was much more comfortable so you weren’t craning your neck, he was so tall. You pull away for air and slump forward onto Mick resting your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around your waist holding you close to him, ‘are you doing alright baby?’ he asks. ‘Yeah, I just wanted to see you is all’. He fiddles with the hem of your tank top rolling it between his fingers, his fingertips grazing your bare skin now and then. He kisses across your shoulder and neck. He does the same with your shorts caressing the skin softly, Mick’s love language was touch so his touches weren’t always sexual. You pull away and stretch your arms up leaning back, you groan feeling a little tense after being hunched over a desk all day. You look up puffing your cheeks and stretching your arms on both sides, it felt like being back in gym class. ‘Have you been studying all day?’ Mick asks, ‘yeahhh, finals are in a few weeks after all,’ he nods in understanding, ‘can I help at all?’ you smile, he was so caring and generous. You shake your head, ‘not really, it’s all too technical,’ he feigns hurt at your comment, ‘I’m smarter than I look!’ you giggle, ‘i don’t doubt that but I have lots of med student friends to help me already. And you have enough on your plate as it is,’ ‘i know sweetheart but I always have time for my girl okay?’ Butterflies erupt in your stomach when he calls you his girl, you nod looking down feeling shy all of a sudden. He tilts your head up using his index finger, he leans forward his lips by your ear ‘I’ll give you anything you ask for,’ punctuating his point with a squeeze to your thighs eliciting a soft barely audible moan, but he heard it. You silently thank your past self for choosing to tie your hair up giving him easy access to your neck which he covers in soft kisses. He caresses your thighs with his hands, ‘you’re so pretty without even trying’ you bite your inner cheek and smile at his words. You place your hands on his shoulders as he kisses behind your ear, he nibbles on your sweet spot and you shudder. He bites the skin creating a small but noticeable hickey, you whimper when he bites harder grasping the collar of his shirt. He smirks against your skin ‘such a needy girl for daddy’ he leaves a trail of soft kisses down your jawline going back to leave more hickeys on the sensitive skin of your collarbones. You tilt your head back a little and he places soft kisses down the column of your throat, he grazes his teeth over the skin of your adam’s apple. He moves the straps of your tank top down your shoulders and starts rolling them down painfully slowly just so the top of your chest could be seen. He kisses the soft flesh of the top of your breasts continuing to roll your top down, to your hips, he cups your right breast in his large tattooed hand taking the nipple into his mouth swirling his tongue around it, ‘mmmph’ you moan softly. He does the same with the other whilst placing his hands in the back of your shorts beginning to slide them down your waist, you weren’t wearing any panties either, he smirks ‘looks like someone knew what they wanted’ he squeezes the curve of your ass with one hand causing you to roll your hips into his. He groans and holds you still with a firm grip on your hips, ‘slow down baby’. You sigh running your hands over his broad chest and shoulders slipping the flannel off. You admire his bare torso and arms, ‘you have an amazing body Micky’ he swallows stopping his movements. You hold his biceps as he looks at you, he wasn’t used to compliments of any sort from anyone and you always caught him off guard. You smile at him leaning forward cupping his face and kissing his nose. You giggle and he laughs too, ‘I love you y/n,’ you peck his lips, ‘I love you too Micky’. He continues to slip your shorts off, they were already bunched up mid-thigh. He kisses your shoulder as he moves your shorts down your legs until you hear someone coming, he looks up behind you and sees some random girl walking up the drive ‘ y/n someone's coming’ he says, he was more than happy to continue, hell, he’d fuck you in front of them, it was his house and you were his girl but he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. You pull back and sigh, he quickly pulls your top up and you hike your shorts back up your legs. You get off of his lap and he hands you his flannel, you put it on and sit back on the truck as he stands to deal with whoever this girl was. As she got closer he could see her face, ‘she’s from the club’ you squint your eyes recognising her too. ‘Raya, what’s she doing here?’ He shrugs, ‘must be for Rio’. You cross your arms feeling a little hostile, Raya was never nice to you and she made it very clear she fancied Mick. Of course you were jealous of her, she was everything you were not. Tall, blonde, petite but perfectly curved figure and such a god damn pretty face. Mick didn’t really know much about the part where she liked him but he knew the two of you weren’t best buds, so naturally he harboured reservations too. He coughs clearing his throat, ‘what are you doing here?’ She laughs, she had a very silky voice, ‘what? no hug?’ Mick just looks at her unimpressed, ‘jeez, someone rolled out the wrong side of the bed this morning didn’t they?!?’ she looks at you and winks. You roll your eyes, ‘I’m here to see Rio, we have some business,’ ‘wait here, I’ll go get him’. He looks at you, ‘be nice babe’ you huff and lay back on the truck desperate to get back to what the two of you were doing before you were so rudely interrupted. You feel the ache between your legs slowly dissipate, tempted to touch yourself, but Mick hated when you did that and it didn’t feel even half as good as when he did it anyway. You groan and get up forgetting Raya was stood there, shit imagine I’d started fucking myself in front of her. You laugh at the thought, she cocks a brow at you giving you the dirtiest look. You look at her confused, ‘something funny?’ you close your eyes, ‘i’m not in the mood for your drama Raya,’ she laughs, ‘no drama, you’re so weird’,  you look at her unfazed by her weak attempt at insulting you, ‘i mean, you’re so short and you have a weird body shape, I don’t know why Mick is wasting his time with you’, you bite your tongue to keep from bursting out into tears. It was already hard enough working at that club all the time, the worker girls there were incredibly attractive and you just weren’t, compared to them, and you asked yourself that question alot, ‘what does Mick see in me?’ You’d never formulated a good answer and sometimes the insecurity ate away at you. Raya’s comments just hit a nerve and you felt smaller and more insignificant than ever before. Mick was the kind of guy every girl wanted, the classic bad boy type, why did he choose me? You were consumed by your own thoughts you didn’t even notice Raya walk off. Rio had called her inside, her, Rio, Mick and some other guys were having a ‘business’ meeting. You cross your arms and kick the dirt beneath you, chewing your inner cheek. Tears threaten to spill any minute as you contemplate everything that matters to you. You turn around and head back up the driveway, may as well channel this energy somewhere positive? There was nothing you could do to make the feeling go away but maybe you could distract yourself. You walk back into Mick’s house and past the kitchen, they were all stood around the counter. You glance in there, enough time to see Raya flip that long, perfect mane of hers and flashing that million dollar smile. All the boys looked enamoured, Mick had his eyes cast on you, you didn’t notice but he saw you and he saw the look on your face when you walked past. He knew instantly something was off and he wanted nothing more than to run after you and find out what it was but he couldn’t do that right now. You trudge up the stairs and flop on the floor in starfish position and stare at the ceiling. You pick at the rug underneath you and think about what Raya said again. You get up quickly and look in the mirror. You bunch up Mick’s flannel and scrutinise your body. She was right, you did have a weird body and you were so damn short. Mick had to pick you up almost every time you kissed, now you felt embarrassed, like a child. You sit at your desk and huff resting your head on your arms. You hit your head on your arms a few times and groan, ‘bitch’ you say out loud thinking of Raya. You decide to clean the bedroom and bathroom, maybe that would distract you. You shut the door to drown out Raya’s voice and the rest of them and put some music on. Just Like You by Falling in Reverse, your favourite band, blares through the speakers, you were high enough up in the house to play it loud as you liked. You sway your hips and start tidying your desk. It was pretty messy, paper, pens and sticky notes everywhere. About 10 minutes later you’re done, you move onto the bed changing the sheets and making it up. You open the windows to let in some fresh air and mop the bathroom and pick up some laundry that was scattered around. It’d been around 25 minutes and you go back to the mirror, you feel just as bad if not worse than before if that was possible. You roll your eyes and walk away from the mirror to the shower, working up quite a sweat from all the work you’d just done. You take Mick’s flannel off smelling it and sighing throwing it into the hamper too, you peel off all of your clothes and turn around not in the mood to see your naked form just to end up hating every part of it. You throw your clothes into the laundry and get into the shower, you open your hair and let the hot water relax you. You tilt your head back and massage your shoulders, feeling even more stressed out now than before. You look at the wall in front of you and pinch the bridge of your nose. Sighing you finish off your shower, comb through your hair and wrap yourself in a towel. You go into your bedroom, avoiding the mirrors again. You head to your closet and pick out some loungewear, it was only 4, too early for sleep. It was hot so no sweats or anything long sleeved, you pick out a black camisole and matching shorts throwing them on the bed. Ever since being with Mick, he’d bought you loads of skimpy, black, lace clothing. You didn’t mind, he had pretty good taste, but you felt shitty right now not wanting to wear something so revealing in front of him. You sigh, standing in the mirror, you hold your hair up and turn side to side examining yourself again. ‘Fuck,’ you shake your head and hold your face in your hands. ‘Babe?’ You cringe, Mick catches you mid ‘self hate session’ he raises his brows at you and walks up behind you. You clutch the towel to yourself afraid he might try and resume activities from earlier in the day, you couldn’t handle being that vulnerable right now. He places a hand on your hip the other under your chin tilting it at an angle towards him, he kisses your cheek, ‘do you wanna talk about it?’ you shake your head and start to cry, he had a way with words that made you weak. He steps in front of you pulling you into a comforting hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your head. You bury your face in his chest and place your arms over his shoulders. You stay like that for a few minutes, he rocks you back and forth, his thumb gently caressing the bare skin of your upper back. You aren’t crying anymore but you’re still worked up, ‘Mick?’ he hums, ‘why do you love me?’ he pulls away and looks down at you, giving you an are you serious look but he sees the look in your eye and sighs. He leads you to the bed, he sits on it and stands you in front of him. He grabs your hands lacing your fingers together rubbing his thumbs over the skin of your much smaller hands. He lets go and pats his thighs, ‘come here,’ you’re a little apprehensive to sit intimately with him, he holds your hips gently pulling you closer, he looks up at you, ‘it’s alright sweetie,’ you nod and settle in his lap with your knees either side of his thighs. He holds your sides and softly kisses your forehead, you place your hands on his chest and you sigh still feeling incredibly shitty. ‘Where’s this coming from?’ He knew you didn’t just randomly feel this way, there was always something that would trigger it and if he knew what then he could help. He had a pretty good idea what, or more particularly who, caused this but he won’t force you to tell him anything you aren’t yourself ready for. You stay silent for a while, he doesn’t care, Mick was a very, very patient man so he just sits there too while you gather your thoughts. You chew the inside of your cheek, tapping his shoulders and your eyes were cast down, all tell tale signs of how worked up you are. You fiddle with the bottom of the towel picking at it, you open your mouth to talk but close it again, unsure about how to say what you wanted without sounding stupid. You shake your head slightly, ‘y/n, I hope you know you can tell me whatever is on your mind, don’t hide anything from me, please?’ You look at him, tears welling up slightly again. You wipe your eyes and nod, ‘uhm, earlier when you left, it was just me and Raya obviously. She just said some things to me that bothered me a little,’ you realise you’ve greatly undersold exactly just how badly what she said bothered you. He nods, ‘tell me what she said,’ your bottom lip trembles slightly and a few tears run down your cheeks, ‘she said you were wasting your time with me and that I have a ‘weird’ body’ you emphasise the word weird , it was a ridiculous thing to say, there’s no such thing as a ‘normal’ body, people were all different shapes and sizes and that was literally just science. But you knew she was trying to tell you that you weren’t good enough for Mick and the worst part was you believed it now. Mick tightens his hold on your waist every so slightly feeling protective of you, he wished he could shield you from all of that negativity but he couldn’t. ‘I’m sorry y/n’, you look at him and furrow your brows, ‘for what?’ He glances at the clothes you’d picked out earlier and grows angrier at the fact someone made you feel like that. He feels the soft silk of the set and smiles remembering how beautiful you look whenever you wear it. ‘I’m sorry you can’t see yourself through my eyes, because then you would never ever doubt yourself for even a split second. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I can tell you why I love you but then we’d die here because the list is endless. I love you because every time I see your face it makes my day. I love you because you treat me like a human being. I love you because you support me in everything I do. I love you because you have never doubted my loyalty. I love you because you are intelligent. I love you because you work so hard everyday to be a better person than yesterday. I love you because you have the cutest smile ever. I love you because you have the prettiest colour eyes. I love you because you aren’t afraid to call me out on my BS. I love you because you treat my family like your own. I love you because you are always there for me. I love you because you don’t even realise how perfect you are. I love you because you never resent me when I leave you for nights on end. I love you bec-’ you cut him off enveloping him in a tight hug. You wrap your arms around his neck, he falls back on to the bed from the unexpected force. He laughs a little, you tighten your grip burying your face in his shoulder. ‘Thank you Micky, I love you too,’ he wraps his arms around your waist squeezing too. ‘I will never stop telling you how amazing you are y/n, you’re perfect, never let anyone let you feel like you aren’t. I’ll remind you everyday,’ you smile a few tears roll down your face. This time its out of happiness, your heart feels so full and you’d never felt so grateful to have anything before as you do to have Mick. You move your head so its level with his and kiss him, the kiss is passionate and full of love and affection. In the process of moving around your towel had slipped off a little. Mick pull back, ‘I’m gonna make you realise how beautiful you are,’ he looks into your eyes and grabs the front of your towel. He maintains eye contact with you as he slowly pulls it away from your body. He throws it to the side and sits up with you. He holds you by the back of your thighs and shifts so you’re underneath him. At this point you’re completely naked and he has too many clothes on. Well, it was just a tank and his jeans but it was still too much, you wanted to feel his skin too. He makes quick work of removing his shoes and pants. He peels his tank top off too but leaves his underwear. Still a tease. He settles in between your legs, you bend your knees and part them a little to accommodate his significantly larger frame. He runs his hands over your thighs and hips and leans down to kiss you, you moan softly when he rocks his hips into yours slowly. You deepen the kiss placing your hands on his shoulders, you move your hips slightly too, desperate for a little more friction. Perhaps on a different night you’d there would be more foreplay and teasing but Mick did not want to do that right now he just wanted you to feel good. He moves one hand and slips his underwear off completely sliding them off the bed along with your clothes from earlier. The feeling of his erection pressed against your head as he grinds against you has you losing it underneath him. You squirm a little, whimpering just waiting for him to take you. You were still horny from earlier today, the feeling rushing back so quickly. Mick moves his lips to your ear, ‘such a pretty girl on your back for daddy,’ you whine when he rubs the tip of his cock over your folds. He groans hearing your pretty moans and you wrap your legs around his waist arching your back slightly for him. He slides his cock slowly into your heat taking his time knowing you’d need stretching out a little. You grab the sheets bunching them up the more he slides in, he bottoms out eventually. You feel his cock twitch inside you and breathe out, he leans down kissing your neck softly, he wasn’t rough this time, making love to you. You place a hand behind his head pulling him down to kiss him, ‘fuck me. please?’, he smiles into the kiss and slides in and out slowly. You moan, the tip of his shaft hitting the right spot over and over again. You moans grow increasingly louder and louder as Mick fucks into you faster and faster. ‘Does that feel good princess?’ You nod and bite your lip when he thrusts even harder. He brings a thumb to your lips, swiping it across your lower lip, you take it into your mouth swirling your tongue around it. He brings his thumb to your swollen clit rubbing it in fast circles. You moan his name, ‘I’m gonna cum daddy’ he looks into your eyes, ‘its okay baby, cum for me princess’. He takes one of your legs hooking it over his shoulder, you scream when he keeps pounding into you, he continues rubbing your clit holding your abdomen with the other hand to pull your body down to meet his thrusts. Your toes curl and you dig your nails into his arm holding your abdomen. The coil in your stomach tightens, you squeeze your eyes closed and your orgasm hits you hard, you moan his name. He runs his hand over your stomach and lets go of your leg slowing down his thrusts as he approached his own climax. You keep your legs wrapped around his waist, you clench your walls around his dick and he moans falling forward spilling his seed into you. He rests his head in the crook of your neck leaving soft kisses on your shoulder. He shifts his hips a little to move his cock out of you but you wrap your legs around him tighter whining. He smirks and lets you have what you want. You smile and sigh, you loved the feeling of Mick filling you. You hum and hug Mick wrapping your arms around his neck. He rolls off of you to the side but pulls your body with him so you’re facing him. He kisses you softly as you hook one leg around his waist. You moan when he shifts a little a spike of pleasure shoots through you. You place your hands on his shoulders and get closer to him pressing your lips to his again. He places a hand on your lower back and the other under your knee pulling you even closer. He moves his hips again thrusting you in and out. You moan in sheer pleasure as he fucks you for the second time. You throw your head back and he leans forward nipping softly at the sensitive skin of your collarbones and neck. He kisses the pulse point of your neck, ‘are you going to cum for me again baby girl?’ you nod whimpering when his hand on your back squeezes your ass. ‘Yes daddy, make me cum again,’ he moans loving it when you talked dirty to him. He rolls you on top of him moving both hands up to your hips to pull you down to meet his strong thrusts. ‘Fuck,’ he moans seeing your breasts bounce in time with his thrusts, you moan and whimper uncontrollably being filled at this new angle was almost too much. You breathe erratically your climax building much faster this time, you struggle to hold yourself up anymore your legs trembling from the overstimulation, Mick puts his hands on your back pulling you down to him. He kisses your lips rubbing your back soothingly to calm you. ‘Don’t stop Micky’, he continues the pace of his thrusts gripping your ass to fuck into you harder. You moan and whimper into his ear, ‘fuck y/n, you’re gonna kill me’, you moan in sync with each of his thrusts. You grip the sheets beside you white knuckling as your release hits you again, your eyes roll into your head and you moan Mick’s name for the 1000th time tonight. He moans as you come undone on top of him. A few pumps later and he finishes inside you again. His cock softens slipping out of you with ease. You sigh feeling empty, Mick caresses your back slowly bringing you down from your high. Your legs already start to feel sore, you had to spread them so wide for him, it killed but was all worth it. You suck in a breath feeling the pain in your thighs mostly. He rubs your outer thighs massaging the muscles softly. You rest your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat as it slows to its normal rate. You hum in content, Mick was the king of aftercare. ‘Does it hurt too much?’ he asks you, ‘no just a little, it’ll be worse in the morning,’ he smirks secretly he loved the idea that he could do that to you and you liked it. You sit up slowly resting your hands on his chest you lean forward a little. He moves his hands from your thighs to your hips helping you off of him. You sigh feeling more comfortable with your legs not stretched out over him. You bring your knees up a little sitting up on the bed, Mick brings a hand to your upper back caressing your bare skin, you look at him and smile. You felt a million times better now. You fall back onto your pillows and Mick wraps an arm around your shoulders bringing you close to him. ‘How are you?’ You turn in his grasp, ‘much better thanks to you,’ he leans down kissing you wrapping an arm around your waist. You rest your head on his chest, one hand over his abdomen, he was too built to wrap it around so it sort of just laid there but he liked it and so did you. You rake your nails over his sides in a soothing way and he traces circles down the curve of your spine. He settles his hand on your lower back, he rubs the back of your neck too resting his hand on the back of your head for a moment. He kisses the top of your head and continues rubbing your back, you hum in content running your hand up and down his sides. His hand was close to your ass, like always, you could feel the warmth radiate from his fingertips and it got you in the mood all over again. You shift a little underneath him and moan involuntarily when you feel his length against your bare leg. Mick doesn’t register whats happening until you look at him. You rest your chin on your arm across his chest giving him the most obvious ‘fuck me’ eyes ever. You bite your lip sitting up a little running your hands over his chest. He doesn’t do anything yet just lets you carry on, seeing how far you would go. You lean down to kiss him and he places his hands on your back again, you bite his lower lip a little and he groans not expecting it. You start kissing his neck and shoulders and move your lips to his ear, ‘daddy I want you to make me cum again,’ you giggle when he squeezes your ass, ‘such a dirty girl’ he stops your movements sliding you underneath him again. He spreads your legs again kneeling before you, ‘tell me what you want princess,’ you tilt your head ‘i want you to eat my pussy’. He smirks and cocks his brow at you, ‘daddy will you eat my pussy please?’ He leans down capturing you in a heated kiss, he knew how much you loved head, almost as much as him. He grinds against you slightly, you moan and he slips his tongue in to your mouth. ‘Are you my girl?’ You nod, he kisses down your neck and chest, ‘say it’, you moan when he kisses your nipples, he bites the flesh of your chest, ‘say it’. You moan, ‘i’m your girl daddy,’ he smirks swirling his tongue over the hickeys and taking your nipples into his mouth. You whimper at his touch as he kisses down your stomach. He swirls his tongue in your belly button and you giggle, he chuckles at your behaviour massaging your breasts. His tongue reaches your heat and he licks your core. You moan not expecting him to be so forward, he holds your hips and you interlace your fingers with his. His tongue flicks your clit rapidly and your orgasm rapidly builds up. You moan and whimper underneath his touch. ‘Mmm that feels so good daddy’ you moan erratically when he sucks harshly on your clit. He massages your left breast with his left hand and bring his right hand to your inner thigh. He softly caresses the skin and pushes it to the side fully exposing your entrance to him. He pulls away and rubs circles on your overstimulated clit and without warning inserts a finger into your entrance. You whine when he moves his lips close to your slick but doesn’t move. You wriggle your hips desperate for some friction. He doesn’t stop you like his typical dominant self would because tonight was all about you. He only holds your hips massaging the skin there to encourage you to relax, he adds another fingers brushing against your g spot. You moan loudly, ‘M-Mick, I’m gonna cum’, he kisses your clit and flicks his tongue against it, ‘cum for me baby’ his words send you tumbling over the edge again. You arch your back off the bed as he continues fingering you throughout your climax. He crawls up hovering over you, you smile feeling incredibly satisfied. Mick pins his hands over your head and slowly enters you. You gasp not expecting it, he sheaths his entire cock within your heat and you moan in delight. He slowly moves as you arch your back off the bed, your nipples brush against his chest causing Mick to breathe out. He kisses your neck and shoulder leaving soft love bites. His lips brush over a sensitive spot causing you to whine.  ‘You deserve to be loved baby, every inch of your body deserves to be loved,’ he whispers to you. You attempt to move your hands, wanting to touch him but he tightens his grip causing you to groan, he smirks against your chest assaulting your nipples with his skilful tongue. ‘Please?’ He moans hearing how needy you are for his touch, ‘please what baby girl?’ you bite your lip and moan when he thrusts deeper inside of you. ‘Please can I touch you daddy?’ He smirks releasing his grip on your wrists and you run your hands over his broad shoulders, ‘mmm, you’re so hot’ you say to him. He kisses you passionately never getting used to your compliments. You feel yourself close to the edge but you need just a little more to get you there. ‘Harder please’, he groans and kneels up spreading your legs apart as wide as they could. He grabs your hips and fucks your pussy hard. You breasts bounce with each strong thrust and you claw the sheets. You moan and whimper underneath Mick feeling so oversensitive. You start to feel a little embarrassed as Mick holds you as he fucks you, realising just how much you’d let go tonight. You bite your lip to stifle your moans attempting to regain some composure, ‘no y/n, I want to hear you,’ he looks into your eyes encouraging you to be noisy. He squeezes your abdomen and you moan again. ‘That’s it baby, moan for me,’ He brings his thumb down to rub circles on your swollen clit. He starts slow and you moan louder wanting more friction. It’s like he can read your mind as he starts rubbing faster and harder. ‘I want to hold you’, Micks heart bursts. Even in such a heated moment you wanted his affection. He leans down and you wrap your arms around his neck kissing his neck softly. He keeps rubbing your clit and thrusting in to you. You rake your nails down his back and your legs start to tremble, partly from being spread for so long and partly from the multiple orgasms and the one you were about to have. He kisses your lips, and you moan against his mouth as your orgasm washes over you. You throw your head back screaming his name pretty loud, he moans too watching you absolutely lose it and spills his seed into you for the third time tonight. You breathe rapidly trying to control yourself. Mick pulls out of you and rubs your abdomen and legs giving you time to settle. He kneels in front of you, ‘you’re so pretty when you scream my name y/n’ you blush and hide your face in your hands. He laughs and easily pries your hands away. He leans forward kissing your nose, ‘don’t hide that beautiful face from me.’ You wrap your arms around his neck and the two of you just lay there for a while holding each other. It was crazy, your relationship. He was a big bad guy, he did scary and illegal things and you were a hard working, stressed out, ‘innocent’ medical student. You laugh, ‘what’s so funny?’ Mick rolls to the side not wanting to crush you and you remain on your back looking at the ceiling. ‘Do you ever think how much of a weird couple we are?’ He doesn’t respond right away, ‘we are like polar opposites,’ he hums, ‘yes we are but that doesn’t mean we can’t love each other. Opposites do attract don’t they?’. You roll over to face him flinging an arm across his abdomen and resting your head on his shoulder. ‘Yeah, something like that.’ He looks down at you and he can see the cogs turning in your mind. ‘I’ll never leave you,’ you clench your jaw a little, was this man a psychic or something. ‘I know that’s what you think about y/n, but I promise you, you do not need to ever worry about that happening.’ You sit up crossing your legs looking at him with a ponderous look in your eyes. He puts a hand on your thigh and caresses it lovingly, ‘you’re everything to me, all I could ever possibly need’ you don’t know what to say. You interlace your fingers with his and he kisses the back of your hand. You jump on top of him enveloping him in a bear hug, you are so much smaller than him so it really doesn’t faze him but he laughs and hugs you. ‘You are my home y/n.’ You squeeze him, ‘you are my home too Mick.’ He glances at the time it was 3.30. ‘My god, we were at it for almost 2 hours,’ you giggle. He runs his hands up and down your back, ‘does it hurt?’ You nod, ‘a little yeah’. He sighs, ‘it’s okay, I like it,’ you blush when he stops moving his hands and rests them on your ass. ‘You just can’t get enough can you?’ he teases you but he was right, you’d be his whore forever to be completely honest. He plays with your hair a little which was a plait but was now a mess. He takes your hair tie out and detangles it. It was very soothing and you felt yourself nodding off. He squeezes your shoulders, ‘don’t fall asleep honey, you’ll struggle tonight’ you groan and sit up. You grab Mick’s shirt throwing it on. ‘Coffee time’, you climb off of Mick’s lap and go to stand slowly. You wince when you put pressure on your feet and let out a breath. Mick just lays there looking amused but secrelty loving the fact you let him be so rough with you. 

#goodgirls #mick good girls #mick x reader #goodgirlssmut #mick good girls smut

[agerefandom]

The TARDIS Playroom

Fandom: Doctor Who

Characters: Regressor!Thirteenth Doctor, Graham O’Brien

Words: 2,000

Summary: The TARDIS has had a playroom for a long time, and The Doctor doesn’t spend enough time in there. One day, while she’s regressing, Graham wanders into the TARDIS and finds her playing.

Warnings: Nothing that I can think of, aside from the accidental regression reveal! Little bit of baby talk around a pacifier near the end. Also, I didn’t bother to correct all my Canadianisms in this fic (ie. ‘pacifier’ instead of ‘dummy’), apologies if that bothers anyone!

for @andromedaspace​

It wasn’t often that The Doctor took a day off. There was always something interesting to do, somewhere to be, sometime that needed help getting back on track. But occasionally there was a lull: companions visiting families, no emergency broadcasts screeching through the TARDIS, just the hum of the ship and countless miles of corridors stretching into paradox space.

And then, maybe, if things had been busy lately, and there were injuries to nurse, and too many close calls… The Doctor would rest.

From the console room, the sounds of a Sheffield street could be heard through the front doors. Those doors were locked, the TARDIS tucked away into a little alcove between two fences down the street from Graham and Ryan’s house. Further into the TARDIS, music could be heard: an upbeat France Gall song. Hard to place the music in the twisting, impossible hallways of the TARDIS, but not impossible. Down a flight of stairs, and turning to the left, an open door revealed The Doctor’s current whereabouts.

Most of the TARDIS was warmly lit, crystals growing up the walls and in the centre of larger rooms. This room was no exception, stalactites hanging from the ceiling and providing a golden glow, but the floor wasn’t grated metal like the rest of the TARDIS. Here, the floor was covered in carpets, messily tossed over each other, and pillows and blankets on top of that, giving the room an appearance of a large and badly constructed bed.

The Doctor sat in the middle of the chaos, happily sucking on her pacifier. She’d chosen a new one after her most recent regeneration, blue and patterned with yellow jewels that sparkled in the crystal lights above her. A series of stuffed creatures were spread around her, some of the bigger ones leaning against the walls, and two of her favourites currently chatting in her lap, held up by her hands.

The policies of the N’ga’shto are more complicated than you’re making them seem! the blue Knashta was saying.

You’re being deliberately obtuse, his companion responded, a plush puppy The Doctor had picked up in Munich in 2032. The great Ish’ka is clearly a figurehead, and cannot be held responsible for the actions of his parliament.

The Doctor tilted her head back and forth between the two stuffies, making them bobble their heads as they argued. The act of playing pretend wasn’t something that had been practiced on Gallifrey, but the school-children were encouraged to debate foreign policy and challenge each other’s ability to recall the elders’ teachings. She enjoyed merging the two activities, watching her soft friends argue about things that mattered. If things got too intense or she got stuck, everything could be solved with a big hug and a nap. That was how playtime worked.

Sure enough, both the Knashta and unusually smart puppy were distracted when the next song came on, and started to dance, their soft legs tossing back and forth as The Doctor made them dance together. She laughed, her pacifier muffling the sound, and rolled onto her back, holding her plushies close. The puppy’s fur tickled her neck, and she pushed him off with a reproachful glance. The Doctor did not like to be tickled.

Well… did she? She certainly hadn’t, in most of her regenerations, but she didn’t think anyone had tried yet. Yasmin and Ryan would occasionally get into spats, trying to poke each other’s sides, but they never went after Graham or The Doctor. She would have to find some way to figure that out!

The Doctor ran her fingers down her sides, but it didn’t feel very ticklish when she did it. Sighing, she rolled over on top of her Knashta plush and rested her forehead on the carpeted floor. This was one of her favourites in the room, a rich oriental pattern that was so very soft to lie on. She ran her hands over the fabric, humming happily, and then pushed herself back to sitting.

It was while The Doctor was pushing herself up that she finally saw Graham standing in the hallway, hand raised as if to knock on the open door.

Her mouth opened in surprise and her pacifier fell out, landing on one of the pillows under her knees. She clutched her Knashta to her chest, automatically defensive. There was no reason to be scared, she knew, not of Graham, but this was her secret room, and he wasn’t supposed to see all this!

Oh, but she had been stupid, not asking the TARDIS to let her know if one of her companions used their key to come for a visit.

“I can go if it’s a bad time?” Graham said, finally lowering his hand from where it had been hovering by the door. “I didn’t mean to bother you, Doc. I texted a while ago and you didn’t get back to me.”

The Doctor had left her phone in the pocket of her normal clothes, which she didn’t wear at playtime. All at once, she was very aware of her bare knees. She loved her shorts and all of their many pockets, but they weren’t for people-time, they were for playtime! She tugged a pillow out of the pile and pushed it against her knees, frowning in Graham’s direction.

Then she felt bad for being rude: Graham hadn’t done anything wrong, after all. She was the one who hadn’t texted back.

“Ah, sorry,” she managed, gesturing for the TARDIS to turn the music off. “Don’t have my phone with me. Was it… important?” The Doctor tilted her head to the side.

“Not in the least,” Graham chuckled. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come for dinner, that’s all. Going to flex my cooking muscles, make some stir fry. Very impressive stuff.”

“Mmm.” The Doctor nodded, making her lips smile.

“Listen, I really am sorry for coming in without shouting first.” Graham pushed his hands into his pockets, looking guilty. “TARDIS has started to feel a little too much like home, but it’s your ship. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No, no!” Oh, she’d made everything bad and now Graham would feel uncomfortable and he wouldn’t want to come and visit her anymore. “I, you can come anywhere! The TARDIS is your home! This room isn’t just for me, it’s nice for sleepovers, and… I can share?” The Doctor held her stuffie out in front of her, trying not to look too worried.

“That’s a nice gesture, Doc. May I come in?”

“Yes, of course! No shoes.” The Doctor sat back on her heels and watched Graham toe off his boots, stepping onto the soft patchwork surface of the carpets. He was looking around, and The Doctor followed his gaze: mismatched pillows, piles of soft bedding, stuffed animals bigger than she could wrap her arms around, all scattered across the space. Did Graham think it was weird?

“Do you hate it?” she heard herself ask. She never did have a very good brain to mouth filter.

“Hate it?” Graham seemed genuinely surprised by the question. “No, kiddo, it looks super cozy. How often do you spend time here?”

The Doctor attempted to untangle timelines in her mind, straighten them out along human measurements.

“Every few months?” she guessed, rubbing the Knashta’s head between its many button eyes. “Not a lot.”

“That’s a crying shame.” Graham folded himself into a sitting position in front of her, hands on his knees. “Space like this deserves lots of time. Look at all these blankets!” He looked at her for permission as he reached out, and The Doctor liked that. She gave him a nod, and he tugged one of the fuzzy blankets onto his lap. “There, now I feel cozy.” He tucked it in around his knees and toes, and settled down with a sigh. “Who’s your friend?”

“They’re a Knashta,” The Doctor said, fighting down a silly wave of shyness as she held her friend out for Graham to see. “They’re a rebel and they don’t like big leaders, but they lack revolutionary nuance.”

“And do they have a name?”

The Doctor shook her head. She didn’t name most of her stuffies because remembering all those names would take a lot of memory space, and she preferred to remember the names of all the real people she saw from day to day.

“Hmmm, would you mind if I gave them a name?” Graham asked, running a hand over his stubbly cheeks as he smiled. The Doctor knew that Graham only did that when he was really happy, and usually when he was outside in the sun. It was nice that he was doing it here, with her, in the crystal-lit playroom of the TARDIS.

“You can give them a name if you want.” The Doctor’s shoulders were starting to hurt from holding up the plushie, but she would hold them up until they received a name. Names were important, so Graham needed to look closely.

“Well, let’s think for a moment.” Graham rubbed his chin, pushed his eyebrows together, and pursed his lips. The Doctor fought down a laugh at his exaggerated thinking expression. “I’ve got it! They look like a Greg.”

“Greg?” The Doctor said dubiously, looking at the Knashta. Knashtar usually had much longer names, but sometimes they took shorter nicknames when visiting other planets. It could be short for Gr’egtha’shvantanos, which was a proper Knashta name.

“Undoubtedly.” Graham smacked his hands against his knees. “I’d know a Greg anywhere.”

The Doctor brought Greg back to her chest, hugging them firmly. Their eyes pressed against the bottom of her chin, but that was alright. No one said love was easy. “I love Greg.”

“They love you too,” Graham said.

“Do they?” The Doctor wasn’t sure why the question slipped out of her. All of her friends in the playroom loved her, and she loved them. That was what plushies were for, loving and being loved. Soft and simple and comforting.

“There’s not a person who can get a hug from you and not love you, Doc. Take my word on it.”

The Doctor hid her smile behind her newly named Greg, glancing up to see Graham with a matching grin.

“You dropped this, by the way.” Graham hooked a finger through the handle of her pacifier and brought it up. “Yours, kiddo?”

The Doctor nodded reluctantly. She had been hoping Graham hadn’t seen it, but he clearly had. That was one of the things that wasn’t a people-time thing. Even if it was very comforting and helped her think, even when she was big.

“Here you go.” Graham offered it to her and The Doctor opened her mouth automatically. Graham blinked: oh, he’d wanted to hand it to her. Before The Doctor could correct her mistake, he reached forward and popped the dummy into her mouth. She hummed, relaxing with the familiar pressure on her tongue.

“T’nk y’u,” she said around the pacifier.

“Not a problem,” Graham said, and patted her on the head. Oh, that was nice… she had so missed people touching her hair. Almost before she knew what she was doing, she chased the touch, pressing into Graham’s hand. “Oh! Hello.” Graham chuckled, but willingly scratching his fingers through her hair, all the way to the back of her scalp.

The Doctor melted, her head coming to rest on Graham’s knee, with Greg the Knashta held close against her. They were her new favourite. But also, Graham was her new favourite, as long as he kept petting her head.

“Well. You’re over here now,” he said, and moved a piece of her hair out of her face. “Big flop, Doc. Thinking about a nap?”

“M’ybe,” The Doctor sighed, closing her eyes as Graham started to comb his fingers through her hair again.

“I’ve gotta be home at six to start dinner, but there’s plenty of time for a nap before then. I’ll stay here with you.”

“L’v y’u,” The Doctor said, the world already getting softer around her. She could feel Graham’s affection and comfort radiating from his hands. Thanks to the physical contact, she was receiving vague thoughts and impressions, so she heard Graham’s response before he said it out loud.

“Love you too, kiddo. Sleep well.”

#fandom agere #agere writing #doctor who agere #dw agere #agere fanfiction #agere fics #sfw agere #agere stories #i love the doctor so so so much #they deserve the world #i also love graham very much #i love lots of people #anyways the knashta are totally made up!!! they're not from the show #if anyone's curious #my writing #my stories #doctor who

[pressedinthepages]

Breeze

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: reader request: [Hello! I read that you would like to write something other than x reader from time to time, so I have a (hopefully cute 😳) Geraskier-request for you: Geralt saving money and surprising Jaskier with buying him his own horse. And Jaskier is deeply moved by that action (maybe he's crying) and Geralt just laughs and gives him cuddles/kisses him. 😌] awe dumb softe bois

also thanks to @sometimesiwrite​ for being a wonderful beta :)

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: mild language, ~yearning~, geralt has to use his voice to communicate

Two idiots and a horse get another horse.

    “Geraaaalt. Why aren’t we staying at the inn? I can literally see it from here, the soft bed and the warm bath beckoning to me through the dark. ‘Come to me, Jaskier,’ it’s saying, Geralt. It’s not like we’re strapped for coin, either. The alderman actually paid you pretty well for that bear ghost-”

    “Barghest.”

    “Yes, yes, exactly. But back to my earlier line of inquiry. I ask again, why in the shit are we staying out in the middle of the woods for what feels like the thousandth night in a row?”

    Geralt sighs, staring up at the stars on the clear night. “I’m trying to save my coin.”

    Jaskier scoffs, drawing a raise of the brow from the Witcher. “For what, pray tell?”

    “New armor.”

    “Oh, so the Witcher can get new armor every other week and it’s fine, but when I go and buy a new outfit for a performance, it’s a ‘waste of coin, Jaskier?’”

`    Geralt hums with finality, listening as Jaskier just continues prattling on. There’s no real heat behind it though, and Geralt does feel bad making Jaskier rough it out here with him. But he knows that if he lets the bard wander into town on his own, Geralt will end up having a much larger and more annoying mess to clean up.

    “Jaskier,” Geralt hums, listening as he stops his ranting. “Come get some sleep, I’d like to get down to Blackbough by the new moon.”

    Jaskier huffs in response before he undoes the little buttons down the front of his doublet. He shucks it off of his shoulders and drapes it over a log on the ground, rolling up the sleeves on his chemise up to his elbow. Geralt tries quite desperately not to watch, but his eyes are drawn to every new inch of skin revealed under the low light of the embers. 

    Jaskier’s bedroll flaps loudly as he sets it between Geralt and the fire. He plops down onto it, stretching out and turning to face Geralt. The Witcher peers over at him, admiring quietly the way that the last few sparks of light dance over the high planes of his cheeks. 

    “Ah, Geralt. Another day, put to rest. Sleep well, dear Witcher.” Jaskier turns over with his back to Geralt, scooching back a bit, close enough that Geralt can feel the heat radiating from his skin. Geralt hums, his fingers flexing at his sides, itching to touch, to hold, to gather Jaskier into his arms and never let him go.

    Instead, Geralt only gives a whispered, “Goodnight, Jaskier.”

    ***

    The sky is black when they do finally arrive in Blackbough, bespeckled with stars far and wide. Jaskier leans against a post while Geralt checks over the notice board in the center of town, the bard kicking off one boot and digging his thumb into the tender skin of his sole. 

    “Fuck, Geralt. My feet are exhausted. Don’t get me wrong, I would happily trot along at your side until the end of my days, but I may need to invest in some new boots sooner rather than later if that’s to be the case,” Jaskier groans, sliding his foot back into the soft leather of his boot. Geralt hums as he tears a slip of parchment from the board, watching it flutter between his fingers.

    “Wind’s howling,” Geralt rumbles, tucking the parchment into his pack atop Roach.

    “Yes, dear Witcher,” Jaskier’s hair flaps about his face, “thank you for the weather update.”

    “Why don’t-” Geralt starts, peering over at the bard. “Why don’t you head to the tavern, see if they’ll let you play for a night in a room. I’ll be out scouting this contract, so you should absolutely stay here.”

    Jaskier looks back at the little building, noting the light shining from the windows and the voices still floating in the din of the evening. He nods, and Geralt raises an eyebrow at the lack of argument. “Oh shut it, Geralt,” Jaskier grins, “you know that I would typically be more than happy to traipse through spooky fog and poky underbrush. Alas, I am fucking tired. So, on this one occasion, I will admit that you are right.”

    Geralt gives one of his rare smiles, a cheeky turn of the corner of his lip, and turns to lead Roach out of town. “I’ll come collect you in the morning. Try not to get into too much trouble.”

    Jaskier scoffs half-heartedly, swinging his lute case around as he turns towards the tavern. Geralt listens to be sure that Jaskier is secure in the building before he changes course, heading instead to a large structure situated just on the edge of town. 

    ***

    Geralt stands in Jaskier’s room, surrounded by the dulcet tones of his deafening snoring. He has called out to the bard several times, but nothing has been able to wake him. That is, nothing until Geralt decides to grab a sweet bun from the innkeeper and a cup of steamy tea.

    Jaskier hums when he smells the herbs next to his face, smiling a bit when he sees Geralt brooding in the corner. Jaskier takes a great bite out of the pastry, moaning quite obscenely at the taste. “Have a nice night, Geralt?”

    Geralt hums, gathering Jaskier’s stuff from around the room. By the Gods, he was only here for a few hours. There is a doublet over a chair, trousers on the dresser, one boot by the door and one by the fireplace, and blankets and furs all over the place. 

    “Alright, Bard. Let’s go, I have something to pick up before we leave town.” Geralt chucks the pants to Jaskier. They hit him square in the face before falling into his lap, revealing quite the impressive side-eye.

    Jaskier sighs, sipping his tea as he goes about getting dressed. Geralt watches once more, chuckling to himself as Jaskier tries to ruffle his hair into something that doesn’t quite resemble a harpy’s nest. 

    The two of them head out of the tavern soon after, the morning sun greeting them through the dew. “Geralt, where’s Roach?”

    “Stable.”

    Jaskier responds by strumming a chord on the lute with a look over to Geralt, confirming his permission to play for the time being. Geralt gives a short nod of the head and Jaskier begins, something quiet and slow as the world warms in the dawn.

    The stableboy sees them approaching and ducks inside, leaving Geralt and Jaskier standing alone. Geralt closes his eyes and just listens to the tune that Jaskier hums, relaxing into the sweet tone that drips like rainwater off of a fresh flower. 

    The stableboy comes back out, followed closely by Roach and a second horse. She is palomino blonde and slender with a spring in her step. Jaskier quirks his brow at the latter, stepping confidently towards the stablehand, who most certainly does not get paid enough for this. 

    “Thank you sir, but it’s just Roach for us. Geralt, would you mind-”

    Geralt tosses the kid an extra coin as he takes both sets of reins, passing the palomino to Jaskier. But Jaskier only looks at him, even when he gives the soft leather a good shake in the bard’s direction. Roach butts Geralt on the shoulder, wisely prompting him to use his words. “She’s uh...she’s your horse, Jask.”

    “What? Geralt, I don’t have a horse. Did you get hit on the head or something, you silly Wi-”

    “I bought her, Jaskier. I bought her for you.”

    Jaskier finally shuts up, taking the reins from Geralt’s hand with a tentative grip. The palomino steps closer to Jaskier, snuffling his hair. He giggles, setting something quite tender alight in Geralt’s heart. 

    “Geralt, I-I don’t quite know what to say...I thought you needed new armor?” Jaskier’s voice is quiet as he scritches along the horse’s nose. 

    Geralt shakes his head, fiddling with the straps on Roach’s saddle. “No. Wanted this to be a surprise.”

    Jaskier goes silent, and Geralt can’t quite bring himself to look over at him. But then Jaskier sniffles and Geralt looks up, finding tears on his cheeks and a soft look in his eyes. 

    “You-you got her for me?”

    Geralt nods, struck by a sudden boldness. He moves forward, grabbing the soft fabric of Jaskier’s doublet at his wrist. “I don’t like seeing you hurt. You-” Geralt huffs, grappling for words. “You’re far too important to me.”

    “I-do I need to actively hold onto the reins all of the time, Geralt?”

    “No, why?”

    “Because I would very much like to kiss you right now, and I would love to have both hands free for that.” Geralt’s eyes widen a bit and he nods, his breath catching as Jaskier drops the reins and surges into him. Jaskier’s lips are so much softer than Geralt had ever let himself imagine, and his fingers in Geralt’s hair feel like the closest thing that he will ever get to true paradise. 

    They part, but only far enough to look each other in the eyes. Geralt looks into those eyes, the clearest blue rivers rushing to raging seas. Geralt’s hands rest on Jaskier’s hips, his thumb rubbing little circles into his sides. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead onto Jaskier’s, reveling in the way that Jaskier’s heart speeds up and his breathing tightens a bit in his embrace. 

    “Thank you, Geralt. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you,” Jaskier whispers, light as a feather between their lips. 

    Geralt hums once more, still holding fast to the bard. “We should be leaving soon.”

    “Can I have another kiss?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt can hear the smirk in his words. 

    “I suppose,” Geralt smiles as he leans back into him. 

#geraskier #fluff #THESE TWO #i love them

[itstittycitybaby]

V Halloween Special

a/n: happy halloween you guys! i will be posting this along with another special on halloween. i went with something very different instead of what i had planned. i really didn’t like how it was coming out and i wasn’t proud of it. so here we are.

The chilly air welcomed you as you lurked into the night. The moon brightened London’s desolate streets. The curfew had rid people from roaming in the night and instead left the ghosts to roam free.

Lit pumpkins sat on doorsteps, grinning at you as you walked by. The halloween lights on balconies shimmered beautifully. Halloween night was eerie and desolate except for your footsteps on the pavement. There were no henchmen in sight. However, you’d find them soon enough.

London had been tainted by Chancellor Sutler’s reign. Its people have suffered greatly because of their weakness. Humans were such fragile things. Something you’ve come to learn from your five hundred years of life. 

The people of London were weak but it wasn’t their fault. It was all the Chancellor’s; the power he held over them was great, but your strength was greater.

Your ears perked up. The sound of footsteps that scuffled in the alley made your senses heighten. You could feel them. Four henchmen were following you. A delighted grin pulled at your lips making your fangs flash in the night. A feast was walking straight towards you; the prey falling gently into the spider’s web.

You could feel their hearts getting closer and closer. You turned around, skirt swooshing around your knee.

“What do we have here? A pretty lady out past curfew?” The man’s words slurred. There were four of them. They whistled as they circled in front of you like wolves. You couldn’t help but scoff; men were never polite or kind, no matter what people said. They would always be pigs.

You didn’t say anything, but kept your eyes focused on what seemed to be the leader. He was bigger and more burly than the others. He walked with arrogance and pride. It was cute, really.

“Cat got your tongue? Shame really, would’ve enjoyed someone more vocal.” They closed in on you. They laughed as you got into a fighting stance. You smirked, ready to pounce. “Well, no one will hear you, that’s for sure.”

Foot shifting slightly to the right, you pounced on the man to your left. He cried out as his back smacked to the floor. You straddled him and clenched your legs tightly around him so he couldn’t escape. The others stood in horror as you sunk your teeth into his neck and drank. The man underneath you screamed until he became limp. You chuckled darkly as you rose up from him. “I’m just helpless aren’t I?”

The glimmer in your eyes was feral. You grinned wickedly and licked your lips. His blood was bitter but it would do. The three men pulled out their weapons. “We’ll k-kill you vampire,” the leader stuttered, holding his knife with trembling hands. You giggled. It was high pitched and deranged. You could feel their heart beats rapidly pump in their chests and their blood running cold. “Aww,” you cooed, lips pulling into a pout. “Don’t be scared. You’ll spoil the blood.” 

The leader lunged at you. You dodged gracefully, sliding to the left. One of the other men tried to slice you with his dagger but missed. 

You dodged their attacks swiftly with ease. Humans were no match for a vampire. Playing with your food always made you excited. Hunting for so many years became boring, but seeing horrible people like these henchmen beg for mercy never failed to get you off.

The sound of metal screeching together made you halt. You and the henchman in front of you snapped your heads at another opponent. 

They wore all black with a little hat on their head. If you weren’t in the middle of feeding, you would have thought it was cute. Their dark hair barely touched their shoulders and they had a short curtain of bangs. 

What caught your eye was the mask. Guy Fawkes. A strange sight to see from the resemblance of the man. The grinning smile the mask had was eerie. You couldn’t help but admire the person as they gracefully sparred the leader. 

Your arm errupted in pain. Its sting traveled throughout your body. One of the henchmen had taken your surprise and turned it against you. You snarled, bearing your fangs. He clutched his dagger tightly and lunged. He was too slow. You tackled him onto the ground and leapt on him.

You clamped your hand around his mouth tightly, muffling his screams as you tore into him. The henchmen writhed underneath you, but you were stronger. His blood had spoiled from the fear that had coursed through his veins. You grumbled as your got off of him, “So much for a feast,” you grunted as you dusted your skirt off.

You heard a hiss. You lifted your head to examine the scene in front of you. The four henchmen laid dead on the concrete floor. Your nostrils flared as a sweet smell hit you. Blood. You felt a tinge of arousal as you basked in the glorious scent. The person in the Guy Fawkes mask grunted, clutching their side tightly. Your mouth watered at the wonderful smell. 

Their head snapped up once they heard your boots clicking onto the brick cement. The dagger in their grip tightened as they studied your movements. “I’m not going to hurt you,” you said gently, hands raising in front of you. “I just want to take a look at your wound.”

The person laughed. It was followed by a grunt of pain.“And why should I trust you? A vampire looking at my wounds? A bit funny isn’t it.” There was no malice in the man’s tone. It was genuine curiosity.

“I only kill people who hurt others. Like Chancellor Sutler, for example. I don’t believe you’re on of those people. Feel free to correct me of course, and I’ll have no problem pouncing on you.” V grinned under his mask. The idea of meeting a vampire on halloween night made him want to laugh.

“I’m not a vile man who takes away people’s freedom if that’s what you’re insinuating.” “Then what are you?”

The man’s eyes watched you closely on you once you were finally arms length away from him. His blood smelled so sweet and you knew it would be delicious. He would be delicious to devour. But you were no monster (aside from the fangs and the literal blood thirst that pumped through your veins). This man had swooped in to save you from the disgusting pigs. Even if you didn’t need it, the thought still counts. You owed him a favor now and you were intending to full fill it.

“Ah, you ask a man in a mask who or what he is. Obviously you can see I wear a mask and what I am is a man who wears a mask.” The man coughed, his words becoming more strained and weak. 

You snorted. “Listen, as much as I endure your charming dialouge and smooth voice, the more you talk the weaker you get. So, while I take you back to my place, you can tell me then. Sound good?”

He was silent for a few moments. Out of shock for being interrupted or what, you didn’t care. This man was loosing blood and he was loosing it fast.

“How can I trust you?” You sighed. “Well, if you don’t want to die then take the chance. Something tells me your time to die isn’t now. So what will it be? Dying and in the end I drink from your delicious neck, or you come with me and survive?”

V felt his cheeks flush. Well, you were rather forward. He mulled it over before nodding weakly. “Alright, I’ll take the chance. I might need some help getting there.” You grinned. V’s heart beat faster at the glinting fangs in the moonlight. “Perfect,” you replied. You wrapped your arm around his shoulders, the other on his waist. The man leaned on you for support and the two of you limped back to your humble abode.

**** 

V looked around the flower shop. The bright florescent light flickered on, revealing the wide range of colors to flowers. He was in awe as he gazed around the shop. V had passed by this shop during his missions without a second thought. He didn’t pay attention the shops anymore because he could no longer visit them.

“Your shop is beautiful,” V praised, gazing at a batch of garden roses that were arranged neatly in a bin. “Thank you,” you said, smiling. “I’ve always loved flowers, even as a human. They’re the only things that make me happy.” 

“I’m assuming you can’t run it in the day.” You smiled sadly, grabbing the first aid kit from under the register. “You’ve assumed correctly. I have two assistant’s who come in during the day. I’m the one that orders the flowers and take care of the greenhouse.”

 You sighed softly, “Ready? I’ll patch you up in the back.” “No witnesses,” V asked jokingly. You laughed. “Smart man.”

****

“Mind taking off your tunic?” V froze; he forgot taking off his tunic was an important part in this matter. You were so charming and sweet that he forget.

“Uh,” he stammered, “on second thought I can do it.” You shook your head. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I promise I won’t ‘suck your blood’ or something like that.” V’s heart striked with guilt. That was not the reason why; in fact, if you actually asked to feed V found himself willing. The thought scared him when he had just met you. What was scarier was you seeing him underneath the persona of the mask.

“You’re bleeding out. I really need to make you’re okay,” you said gently. “Alright,” he whispered. “Close your eyes.” You arched a brow but shut them anyways. It was dark and all you could hear was the rustling of fabric. It was silent for a few moments but the man in front of you murmured that he was ready.

What you were expecting wasn’t the sight in front of you. His skin was pink and very scared. Whoever this man was had been in some kind of accident. He still had his mask on which was odd but you didn’t comment about it. The air was tense between the two of you. The man seemed to be waiting for something. A reaction, or maybe for disgust? 

You didn’t say anything at all. The man seemed surprised that you opened the first aid kit instead, and pulled the supplies out that you needed instead. You focused on threading the needle and made a small noise of victory once it went through. “This may hurt a bit,” you warned. 

V hissed softly at the sting of the needle going in. Eventually he got used to the pattern of the needle being pulled from his skin. The pain became dull the longer it went on. “Why are you doing this for me?”

“A favor.” V’s brows furrowed underneath his mask. “A favor?” “Mhm. You really didn’t have to step in and help me out there.” “It’s my duty to help a beautiful woman in danger. Although, you could’ve handled them yourself.” You snorted, “Quite the flatterer.” “Sorry,” V grunted as a particular sensitive spot you were stitching. “I genuinely mean it. It wasn’t my intention to make you...uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that,” you said, tying a knot and reaching over for the scissors. “Just surprised. Not many would call my kind beautiful after witnessing someone’s neck being ripped out.” The man didn’t say anything as you snipped the loose thread. He watched you peel the gauze before kneeling back down again. “It must be hard. Having to control your instincts.” “Yes, it is.” You stuck the gauze on him with tape and lifted yourself off the floor. “Thank you.”

You smiled. It was a genuine smile. “Of course.” The two of you stared at each other. You couldn’t see his eyes but his gaze felt warm. It made your heart flutter and if you could blush, you would be like a silly school girl. The man looked like he wanted something more to say but thought better of it. He reached for his tunic and slipped it on, while you went back to front of the store to put the supplies away.

****

The man stayed there for a few hours before heading back out. He stubbornly refused to leave his empty mug in the sink, and persisted to wash it. Looking at the drying mug made your heart tug with sadness. The man was so charming and polite that it made you want him to stay. It had been so long since you’ve had a connection. Now that it was gone, it made your heart sink.

 The sun was about to come up and grace the people of London with hope. After the mysterious man left you went back down into the basement. You couldn’t help but think of him as your coffin closed shut. There was something about him that drew you in. Maybe it was the sweet blood running through his veins, or his kindness. Whatever it was, it left you craving for more.

You slept as the sun rose lazily. The customers in the shop didn’t know what truly laid beneath the adored flowers. They were clueless and very naive to what true dangers lurked in the undergrounds. 

Before your last assistant left for the night they handed you flower. Your eyes widened in surprise. It was a rare rose that had been thought to be extinct. Hell, you haven’t seen one in a very long time. It was a Scarlet Carson and on the stem was a neatly tied black ribbon. “Who left this?”

Your assistant shrugged. “Dunnno. It was in the mail slot on the door. Came with this too.” She handed you a slip of paper. The handwriting was written in calligraphy, its swirls intricate and drawn with care. As she closed up shop behind you, you read the words over and over again.

“Thank you, my dearest rose. I look forward to seeing you again, mademoiselle.”

                      -V

#v for vendetta #v for vendetta x reader #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #fan fics #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic

[bytheangell]

A Very Successful Hunt

( @shadowhunterbingo​ square: Hunt. Clary/Izzy, no warnings) (Read on AO3)

Isabelle could do without Clary Fray showing up out of nowhere with her stubborn determination and eye-catching red hair and paint-splattered jeans. She could absolutely do without a gorgeous new girl hanging around the Institute, inserting herself in a world she barely knows anything about as if she’s been there her whole life… and yes, Izzy could definitely do without the huge, raging crush she has on the new Shadowhunter.

Isabelle takes to Clary so fast it’s scary. The fact that Clary shows up with Simon in tow sends up a few warning flags, especially with the way the mundane-turned-vampire constantly follows Clary around. She’s wary, but Clary and Simon insist they’re just friends. Once Isabelle knows that Clary is unattached, nothing can stop her from shamelessly showing off every time Clary’s around in an attempt to draw her affection.

Isabelle orders around anyone stationed under her while Clary’s nearby, showcasing her ability to take command and the respect others give her, toeing the line between being impressive and intimidating. When that doesn’t work she tries to cozy up to Simon hoping to get some information about Clary out of him, but also to show that she can care about what’s important to Clary, too, since Simon is clearly important to Clary. Izzy always saves her best outfits for days she knows Clary will be around and tries to arrange her schedule to be free for sparring during Clary’s training.

Isabelle does everything she can to catch Clary’s attention, to no avail.

Unfortunately, whenever Clary’s around she seems to be more interested in Jace. Isabelle watches Clary barely make eye contact with her, and shift her gaze to Jace instead as they pass down the hallway. When they’re in groups Clary speaks with Jace first, sometimes only speaking with Jace and pointedly ignoring Izzy. In fact, at times it’s painfully obvious the way Clary always tenses up around Isabelle but seems perfectly relaxed around Jace.

“I never thought I'd say this, but I’ve never wished I was you more than I do right now,” Izzy admits. Because of course Clary’s drawn to Jace, with his stupid ‘I don’t even have to try’ charm.

“If I could, I’d trade with you in a heartbeat,” Jace reassures her. She’s seen the way he’s eyed Simon the past few days, even if he hasn’t openly admitted it.

Isabelle wonders when she should just accept reality and cut her losses, but she isn’t ready to give up quite yet.

---

“It isn’t fair,” Clary sighs, flopping back onto the mat in the training room.

“I could just stop coming around with you,” Simon offers, trying to help.

“No, it’s fine,” Clary says. It isn’t fine, not when every time Simon is around Isabelle shamelessly shows off in front of him, but she doesn’t blame either of them, not really. “It’s just a stupid crush anyway.”

“It isn’t like I like her back,” Simon points out. “You should still go for it. Who knows what’ll happen?”

Clary eyes him curiously. “...why wouldn’t you like her back? She’s perfect.”

“For you, definitely,” Simon agrees. “But have you seen Jace?”

Despite her pining, Clary snorts out a laugh.

“Seriously,” Simon continues, steering the topic back to her. “Why not just talk to her?”

Clary sighs again, mostly for dramatic effect, as she pushes herself up off the mat. “Because every time I get near her I freeze up! I can’t even look her in the eyes without blushing, so I just stopped looking at her at all.”

“You’re a disaster,” Simon says, not unkindly.

“Tell me something I don’t know. Anyway, it’s never going to happen. There’s no way I’m setting myself up for failure when I already know the answer. I mean, we both saw her while I trained today.”

Jace trained with her today, and the entire time Clary watched Isabelle smile and laugh at everything Simon said as the two of them talked off to the side of the room. Clary didn’t miss the way Isabelle’s intense gaze met her own, as if to make sure she saw her with Simon, and why else would Izzy do that if she wasn’t trying to send a very pointed message that she’s interested in him?

Clary isn’t sure if Isabelle’s looking for approval or issuing a challenge, but it doesn’t matter either way.

Simon winces. “Yeah. Sorry, I panicked once she started talking to me. I didn’t want to be rude to her and ignore her, but if you want me to next time, just say the word and I’ll kick her to the curb.”

Clary only sighs in response, wondering how long she can manage to avoid Izzy before she has to confront her feelings head-on.

---

Simon knows he’s taking a risk when he corners Jace the following day. Clary is out on a patrol so she won’t be back for at least another hour, which is plenty of time for him to talk to Jace without her seeing.

“Hey, if I tell you something, can you promise not to tell Clary I told you? Or Isabelle?” Simon jumps right to the point, because if the answer is anything other than ‘yes’ he doesn’t have to bother with the rest.

“That depends on what it is,” Jace says.

Simon considers that answer. “It’s just…look, you need to get Izzy to lay off the flirting, okay?”

“Did Clary say something?” Jace asks.

“I know Izzy means well. But I’m not interested, and it’s killing Clary to watch-”

“Wait, you’re not interested?” Jace frowns, brows furrowing.

“Listen, I mean, she’s hot and all but-”

“Simon, she hasn’t been showing off for you,” Jace says. “She’s trying to flirt with Clary.”

“What?!” Now it’s Simon’s turn to be confused. “No, she spent the entire day flirting with me yesterday! You were there.”

“She’s just being nice to you because you’re important to Clary. No offense,” Jace adds quickly.

Simon is still reeling from the revelation that Izzy likes Clary back too much to care about the unintentional slight against himself.

“But Clary obviously isn’t interested, so really, I don’t know why she keeps trying,” Jace adds.

“But Clary is ridiculously interested!” Simon protests.

“Then why does she keep talking to me and ignoring Izzy?!” Jace demands.

“Because she’s a disaster and panics every time they’re together!” Simon points out, then after a moment of silence laughs. Jace looks surprised, then starts laughing as well a few seconds later.

“Alright, so they’re both disasters. Should we tell them?” Jace ponders.

Simon shakes his head. “No. Clary will never believe me anyway. I think they have to figure it out themselves.”

Jace smirks. “Okay… but maybe we can just help them speed the process along.”

---

Isabelle and Clary are the first to arrive in the tunnels for the emergency call about a reported demon sighting.

Clary won’t stop pacing, looking anywhere but at Izzy. When Clary finally speaks it’s the last thing Izzy wants to hear.

“Where’s Jace?” Clary asks, glancing at the entrance.

“Great question,” Izzy says, just as her phone buzzes with a text. “...and the answer is that he isn’t coming. Something about another report across town. Guess it’s just the two of us this time around.”

Izzy tries not to overthink the immediate look of panic on Clary’s face at that as they set off.

The first few minutes are spent in an almost painful silence until they come across the demon - it’s just one, thankfully, and Izzy’s quick to place herself between it and Clary when she spots it, dispatching it easily with her whip and a little extra flourish.

“I’m surprised you’re still showing off without Simon around to impress,” Clary says, and despite the smile that’s meant to be joking Izzy swears there’s a bitterness behind the words.

“Why would I need to impress Simon?” Izzy asks, trying to sound nonchalant. Had Clary realized what she was doing, trying to win over the best friend for brownie points? Did it backfire?

Clary just rolls her eyes. “We should go a little further, in case there are more,” is all she says.

“Sure,” Izzy agrees, left wondering what Simon was saying to Clary about her as she takes the lead down the tunnel again.

Izzy makes it a point to kick every stray rock she comes across with her boot, mostly to vent a little bit of her frustration, because otherwise, she’s going to snap and ask Clary why she doesn’t like her, and that’d just be sad and desperate.

One of her kicks, while admittedly a bit lost in her thoughts about the redhead walking several steps behind her, lands a bit too hard and the rock hits the wall of the tunnel hard, the sound echoing in front of them. The sound of wings immediately sounds back.

“Clary, watch-” Izzy starts, but Clary is already moving to grab Izzy by the waist and pull her down to the ground, just as a colony of bats flies through.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just let them hit me,” Izzy mutters.

“What?” Clary says, and Izzy curses because she didn’t think she said it loud enough for her to hear.

Izzy debates just pretending she didn’t say anything at all, but maybe it’s finally time to accept the way things are going to be. “Listen, I can be cool about this, okay? We can work together even if you don’t like me back.”

“What?!” Clary repeats. “I- You’re the one who doesn’t like me!”

“... excuse me?” Izzy says, suddenly very aware that they’re both still sitting on the ground. She stands herself up and brushes the dirt off her dress. There’s a short silence as Clary stands and does the same with her jeans, confusion evident when she finally turns her gaze back to her.

“You like Simon,” Clary says, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world, then frowns. “...don’t you?”

“No! I mean, I don’t hate him or anything, but I don’t like him like that. I’ve been trying to impress you and you barely look at me! What do you mean you like me, you ignore me for Jace all the time?”

“I don’t… that isn’t what I…” Clary starts, then stops, then starts, then stops again, worrying her lower lip. There’s a very long pause in the conversation, and for a few moments Izzy is positive that Clary is just going to turn and walk away without another word before she takes a deep breath and forces the words out.

“How am I expected to show up and just be cool around you when you’re-” Clary breaks off to motion up and down at Izzy. “You’re you! Of course I’m a mess around you, I can barely think straight!”

Izzy smirks at Clary’s choice of phrasing. “Well, no straight thoughts about me is a good start,” she says.

Clary balks. “See! That! I can’t do that!”

“Obviously, or we probably wouldn’t be in this mess,” Izzy points out.

“...says the girl who thought flirting with Simon was sending a clear message,” Clary counters.

“Okay, I wasn’t flirting! I was just being nice so he’d like me, so you’d like me for being nice to him! Which, in retrospect, might be easily misconstrued,” Izzy admits. “But that isn’t important.”

Despite the confusion and hints of annoyance and surprise and disbelief that are all jumbled together right then, there’s a nervous excitement rising up between them as the implications of their realization start to settle.

Izzy takes a tentative step closer to Clary - and this time, Clary doesn’t look away or step back. This time Clary moves to help close the space between them, and Isabelle grins against the press of Clary’s lips.

---

Simon and Jace are both waiting for them to return, and Clary catches the knowing smiles on their faces when she walks in with Izzy, close enough their arms brush against each other as they laugh.

“I take it the hunt went well?” Jace asks, glancing between the two of them.

“Very well,” Izzy says with a wink.

“Pay up, Lewis,” Jace says, holding his hand out.

Simon groans, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a $20 bill.

“...there wasn’t a second demon sighting, was there?” Clary accuses, eyes narrowing.

“Nope,” Jace admits. “I bet Simon if we got the two of you alone long enough, Izzy would cave and say something to get you two together finally. Simon bet Clary would panic and double-down to deny it even if you did.”

“Simon!” Clary says, though after her recent bouts of pining she can’t really blame him for the lack of faith.

“In his defense, you almost did,” Izzy points out.

“Not the point,” Clary pouts. Izzy leans in and gives her a quick kiss, and Clary’s lips immediately turn up in a smile.

“That’s better,” Izzy says, smiling back.

“By the Angel, what have we done?” Jace groans dramatically. “I can’t watch any more of this. C’mon, Si. I’m suddenly $20 richer, first drink’s on me. I think we earned it,” Jace offers.

Simon looks surprised for a second, then nods eagerly before following Jace out of the Institute.

Clary looks over to Isabelle with a slight, knowing smirk. “How long before they realize?”

“I’d give it a week.”

#clizzy #clary fray #isabelle lightwood #shadowhunters #ShadowhunterBingo #hmdiscord #tsc #jace herondale #simon lewis #jimon #my final bingo fic! <3 #this wasn't quite the idea i started with but i'm pretty pleased with it after a bit of reworking! #long post #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings are as follows - mentions of alcohol, descriptions of blood, Whiskey being a bit of an ass and some brief talk of dead relatives. 

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

You watched him as he settled himself back down into the couch, taking note of every breath he took while he reclined back, refusing to look you straight in the eye. That didn’t bother you too much - you were too busy studying the myriad of bruises and cuts splayed along his body, from the tears and scuffs in his denim jacket to taking note of his perfectly maintained Stetson. How on Earth that thing had managed to escape from whatever situation Jack had gotten himself into unscathed mystified you, but from what you remembered of him you knew he loved that damn hat to death. 

Neither of you had said a word to each other since he stumbled through your front door only moments before, that heightened sense of tension undoubtedly ripe in the air. You thought if you ever saw Jack Daniels face again that you’d have a couple of cutting remarks to say to him - if you ever did think about him that is, and you usually didn’t. Jack hadn’t haunted your thoughts for years now, memories of the summer you two first met and the cold dark of winter when you fell apart falling away to the sands of time. The last thing you ever expected was to have him show up on the front step of your ranch, looking like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. Gazing over him now, you felt it was somewhat your obligation to make sure he was fine: despite your less than amicable feelings towards him you weren’t about to let him die on your couch. 

“Can I get you anything?” you asked him, a hint of uncertainty to your tone. He turned his gaze towards you and shrugged slightly, looking no less unsettled than he had a moment before. “I’m fine for now. Trust me, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks”. 

“You sure about that? No offense, but you kind of look like a wreck” you shot back, to which he replied with a small scoff. “Nice to see you too, sweetheart. I forgot how hospitable you were to those in your care”. 

You could feel a spark of heat rise in your cheeks at his words, and almost wanted to retort back with something equally if not more biting. That fucking bastard. Here he was, lying on your couch looking like he’d walked out of a gang fight and he had the gall to give you attitude. “Alright, ignoring your completely rude and uncalled for attitude for a moment, you still haven’t answered my question. What the fuck did you get yourself into?” you asked.

There was a momentary pause where Jack looked back up at you, an expression of remorse crossing over his face in the brief glance he shot at you. Turning his gaze back down towards the wooden coffee table before him, he shook his head and sighed. “Sorry about that, darlin’.I just...I got myself into a bit of a tight situation. Things have gotten complicated now” he explained, prompting you to raise your brow at him. 

“Yeah, I can see that. Who did this to you?”. 

“Just some other agents. It doesn’t matter” he replied curtly. 

“From where? Statesman?” you asked. After dating him for about a year, you were well aware of his position as an agent to Statesman, and you knew exactly what that job entailed. Jack had been injured before, sometimes worse than how he was now. You remembered once he came back from a mission with several different bones broken, multiple gunshot wounds and a concussion. You’d been left worried for weeks after that as he recovered, only being allowed short visits to see him due to the very nature of his job. This time was different though. You knew Jack was a survivor, but for him to show up out of the blue after several years of no contact, looking the way he did, something was horribly wrong. Studying his expression intensely, you couldn’t help but let out a low sigh in frustration. It annoyed you to some degree of how evasive his answers had been thus far. It was almost like he was ashamed to even say what had happened to him, ashamed to be even talking to you. 

“No, no, they...they weren’t. That’s not important right now though” he finally answered, running the edges of his fingers over his tattered jeans. If it were any other day you would have been more upset at his dismissal of your question but upon seeing the troubled look on his face you felt it best to let it go. An uncomfortable silence had started to hang over the room, the space between you and him feeling more and more tense as the moments ticked by. You looked down at your shoes, taking note of every scuff and streak of mud as if they were the most interesting things in the world, and giving yourself another minute of hesitation before blurting out “Why are you in Dallas?”. 

“It just so happened to be the place the cargo plane I was stowing away on landed. I wasn’t tryin’ to seek you out or anything, if you’ll believe me”. 

His explanation gave cause for you to raise a single brow at him once more, not entirely believing it to be a coincidence that he just happened to show up in Dallas after seven years of radio silence. “Really? Why come here then? Don’t you have your agent buddies to fall back on for shit like this?” you inquired, your tone coming off far more biting and bitter than you originally intended it to. You could see Jack seize up slightly at your callousness, a pained expression passing over his face that made your breath catch in your throat for a second before you darted your eyes away from him, focusing back down to your shoes and deriding yourself for even having a moment of fleeting attraction to him. All these years and those pathetic puppy dog eyes still managed to get to you. Damn him. 

“Usually, yeah. Not this time round though. I’ve…” he stopped himself, his eyes betraying the deep wounded pain woven within them, strengthening every second longer he dwelled on the memory of his former glory. “I’ve been kicked out of Statesman. Or, well, I haven’t officially been kicked but after what happened the other day I’d be a damn fool if I even tried to walk through their doors again”. 

You blinked at him in confusion, his words not fully registering with you. Statesman kicked him out? Him of all people? You briefly considered the possibility that he was simply just pulling your leg and trying to gain some sort of sympathy but upon remembering the pained expression on his face you were instantly told all you needed to know about the truth behind his words. Ok, so he’s not lying, but still...why? “I find it hard to believe that they’d just boot out their best field agent. What did you do to warrant that?”. 

You could see Jack’s mouth twitch slightly, indicating that he wasn’t entirely up for divulging such information. Running a hand through his hair, he trained his eyes to the ground and refused to look up at you as he went on to explain what exactly had gone down to lead him there. “Long story short, I had a disagreement of sorts with a couple of agents from a fellow organisation, and may have gone against Champ’s direct orders in order to hinder them. I guess you could say I went rogue” he elaborated, intentionally trying to keep some of the finer details out. You had half a mind to push for more info, though after another seconds thought you decided against that idea and instead settled for nodding at him semi-sympathetically.  “I see. So...why are you here then?”. 

He didn’t answer you right away, rather finding himself to be staring straight upwards at the wooden beams on the ceiling above. You analysed his expression, trying to find any sort of hint towards what he was thinking. Your eyes kept being drawn back to that dried gash of blood across his cheek, and you winced at the thought of him being in any sort of prolonged pain. Maybe you should have fetched some medical supplies for him after all - knowing Jack and the way he was, he always liked to downplay the dangers associated with his job. Every time he wound up in Statesman’s medical wing needing some sort of bullet taken out of him he never once admitted to ever being in pain. Getting injured was part of the job, he always said, so it wasn’t worth it to worry over him everytime he got hurt in the line of duty. He was an expert at saying he was fine when it was all too clear that everything wasn’t. 

The sound of Jack sighing heavily pulled you from your thoughts, looking up to see him with his head in his hands, practically exhibiting every clear sign of tension in the book. A small part of you wanted to feel sorry for him, for seeing him like this. “Look, I realise this may be too much to ask of you, considering our history, and part of me hates that I have to in the first place but...I have nowhere else to go. I can’t go back home to either New York or Kentucky. I’m not an agent anymore, so I can’t ask any of them for help, and I’m almost a hundred percent sure that I’ve got some sort of bounty on my head now. I’m on the lam as they call it”  he prattled. “I need a place to hide out, to lay low while I sort some shit out”.

The day had already been weird enough already, hearing him ask for your help was only just the cherry on top. Blinking slowly and with your mouth hanging open in utter disbelief, you blurted out “Let me get this straight: you need my help?”.

“Just for a little while, and I promise, sweetheart, as soon as I’m able to I’ll be outta your hair” Jack assured, turning his eyes upwards to you so that you could see his lovely brown eyes, the very same ones that you felt yourself get lost in all those long years ago. “I would never ask this of you unless I had no other choice. You and I both know that”. 

You were at a complete loss for words. Between his tone and those frustratingly sweet eyes of his, you weighed your options carefully on what you should do. Should you let him stay with you? On one hand, with what he’d done to you years ago, something that still left you hurting even now, some part of you felt hostile towards him being around again. You remembered being young and 21, giving your heart out to him and only ever receiving empty promises in the end, leaving you with the painful memory of standing crestfallen on a flight of marbled stairs, on a night that you had sworn was gonna end with a ring ending instead with a shattered heart and never-ending glasses of merlot on your lips. Eventually, you’d learnt to live with the heartache. And pretty soon, for the most part, you’d forgotten. Seeing him there, tonight, in your living room of all places, was starting to bring those feelings back. No matter how hard you tried to stifle them, ignore them and focus on the matter at hand, you still felt the bitterness creep into your tone every time you opened your mouth.

Still, even though Jack had hurt you, you couldn’t just leave him out with nothing. From what he told you, he truly had nowhere else to run. If you threw him out now, he could be dead within hours. The mere thought of that made your heart sting, and despite any bad blood between you two you weren’t heartless, so with a small sigh, you at last settled on the answer you would give to him. “Alright. I’ll let you stay. On one condition though: you gotta help out a little with some of the ranch handling stuff. Once you’re all healed up from your injuries of course” you posited. “And don’t bother trying to butter me up, I’m not enough of an idiot to fall for your charms twice. I’m doing you a favour so it would be in your best interest to avoid pissing me off. You think you can handle that?”. 

He smirked back at you, though it was void of it’s usual playfulness and felt to be more out of sadness than anything resembling his usual jackassery. “You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart, but yeah, of course. I’d be more than happy to help ya out”. 

“Alright. Now…” you nodded at him before turning on your heel in the direction of the kitchen in search of some bandage and gauze for his injuries. “I am going to get you some medical supplies because even though you said you’re fine you clearly aren’t, and I’m not about to have you dropping dead in my goddamn living room. The blood would get all over the carpet and I ain’t lookin’ to pay to get it cleaned” you announced, dropping down to your knees and rifling through one of the lower kitchen cabinets for all the necessary items. 

You could hear him chuckle from the living room, imagining him to be wearing a more toned down version of that charming grin he always seemed to have on him. “Ah, you wound me, my dear girl. Where are your folks?”. 

His question made your heart seize in your chest, your hands grasped around the roll of bandage and bottle of antiseptic you’d scrounged out from the back of the cupboard. Rising to your feet, you stuttered on your words as you led yourself back into the living room with an arm full of different medical equipment. “They...they died a couple of years ago. It’s been just me for awhile” you answered back, doing your best to ignore the look of surprise that spread across Jack’s face. “I’m sorry to hear that, darlin’”.

Tearing off a strip of bandage, you motioned for him to give you his arm so that you could begin tending to some of the deeper cuts on him. “It’s ok. Well, not ok, really, but what can you do?” you murmured, brushing the length of his torn denim jacket out of the way and pressing down a dash of cold antiseptic cream across one of his cuts, watching as how he winced slightly from the sting. “Life goes on. It has to, or else you get left frozen”. Shaking your head, you began to tie the strip of fabric around his forearm, eager to get off the topic of your deceased loved ones as soon as possible. “I’ll put you up in the guest room upstairs. Don’t go through any of the shit in the cupboards, ok? It’s private stuff”. 

“I would never dream of doing so, sugar”.

“Good. Lucky for you, none of these gashes seem too bad so they’ll most likely heal within a couple of days. I’ll just put a bit of adhesive over that awful one you got across your cheek and you’ll be right as rain in no time” you said, popping open the box of adhesive bandages. 

Jack smiled at you, albeit weakly as you smoothed the bandage over his cheek. “Thank you for doing this for me. I mean it. Honestly, I didn’t think you were even gonna let me stay here”. 

You shot him an odd look at that comment, leaning back down to pick up the various bits of first aid paraphernalia off the floor to deposit back onto the coffee table. “What do you take me for, Jack? I ain’t a cold hearted bitch. I hate you for what you did but I don’t want you to die or anything” you quipped, staring at him straight in the eyes as you said those words. Not allowing him a second to respond, you turned away and began to walk off towards the stairs, starting to feel the exhaustion of the day sink in once again when you placed your foot on the first rung.“You’re all good to go. I’d say go upstairs and get some rest, lord knows that’s what I’ll be doing. If you need anything give me a shout ok?”. 

He nodded back at you wordlessly, abruptly turning away afterwards the lean against the couch with his back turned to you, lost back in his own thoughts. You allowed your gaze to linger on him for a moment longer then dragged yourself up the stairs and towards your bedroom, flicking off the hallway lights as you went. In an instant after you heard the click of your bedroom door shut behind you, you allowed yourself to groan out in agony at your entire predicament. So, your ex-boyfriend is on the run and hiding out in your house. This could prove to be interesting...

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #kingsman: the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #cross my heart #pedro pascal

[moonflowerlesbians]

“choose your battles wisely”

Un-beta’d and written after surgery, so please take with a grain of salt. I’ll reblog with the AO3 link in the morning!

Rated T, ~4.1k. Fluffy, Hurt/Comfort

~~~

Jamie is an idiot.

Or, to be more specific, she is an absolute goddamn buffoon of the utmost clownery.

This is, more or less, Dani’s internal monologue as she follows the sound of pained grunts to a somewhat obscured section of the sprawling statue garden, where she comes across a rather disgruntled gardener lying flat on her back in the mud. Her oilskin hat has fallen to one side, and Jamie stares, bleary-eyed, at the grey England sky overhead. There is a decently sized marble sculpture on the ground beside her.  

“You alright, there?” Dani calls, after only a brief moment of amused silence.

“Jesus!” Jamie swears, her entire body twitching, which causes her outburst to dissolve into a groan. “Christ, Poppins, wear a bloody bell,” she grumbles.

Dani rolls her eyes. “You alright?” she repeats, quieter this time.

“Oh, who, me? Yeah, ‘course. Just, you know, enjoying some ‘me time.’” She moves to raise her arm in a weak attempt at waving Dani off, but the limb makes it mere inches off the ground before flopping unceremoniously into the dirt. “Taking in the views...”

“Some view,” Dani notes, with a playful, sardonic lilt to her voice. A pause. “Owen made sandwiches if you’d like to come in for lunch.”

“Be right there,” Jamie replies halfheartedly. She does not stir, her gaze still fixed on the dreary cloud cover, a firm set to her jaw. “Don’t wait up.”

“We might as well walk back together.” Dani crosses her arms. “That is, assuming you’re almost done with your ‘me time.’”

“Almost done. Right. Yeah.”

Dani watches the deep inhale as Jamie steels herself, the muscles of Jamie’s stomach flexing with effort. With a sharp gasp, Jamie pushes herself onto her elbows, but she only lasts a quick second before she’s once again lying prone, muttered curses falling from her lips.

Dani winces sympathetically. “Oh, baby, don’t hurt yourself.”

“Bit late for that.”

“What did you do?” She kneels at Jamie’s side, moist soil dampening her jeans, and brushes wispy brown hairs from her face.

“Picked a fight with the wrong woman.” Jamie nods at the overturned statue. “Credit where credit’s due, she’s stronger than she looks. Heavier, too.”

“So, you decided you were going to move a marble statue, on your own, after a rainstorm, which resulted in you, what, throwing out your back?” Dani translates. “And you thought this was a good idea because…?”

“Never said it was a good idea.”

“And yet here we are.”

“Right, well,” Jamie sighs, “we’ve established I’m not the sharpest knife in the block.” Her eyes meet Dani’s, defeated. “If you would be so kind as to lend me a hand, I’d rather not like to die like this.”

“All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” She thinks she catches a fleeting smile before it is replaced with a grimace.

Gingerly, Dani wedges her arm between Jamie’s shoulders and the earth below, murmuring gentle apologies at each indication of discomfort. She offers her other hand for Jamie to grab. Together, they work her into a sitting position. Jamie’s chest heaves, and her face is a ghostly shade of white.

They stay like that for a minute. While Jamie catches her breath, Dani’s fingers rub what she hopes are soothing circles into her back. How long has she been out here?

“Are you okay to walk?” Dani asks.

“Suppose we’ll find out,” Jamie says in a tone not at all reassuring.

Dani braces herself and takes both of Jamie’s hands in her own, digging her heels into the dirt. “One...two…”

On three, she pulls, and Jamie staggers to her feet, with Dani catching the majority of her weight as she topples forward and the air goes out of her.

“JesusshitfuckingChristfuckshittinghellgoddamnit-”

“Okay, you’re okay,” Dani says, trying to angle herself to best support the woman about to get herself excommunicated for blasphemy. She can feel the tension radiating off of Jamie in waves.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” Jamie promises, very much not fine and very much not good. “Nothing’s broken, I don’t think. Just, ah, a little crooked, s’all.” Her breathing is labored as they take a few tentative steps.

“Look, you just rest here, and I’ll run back and get Owen--”

“No, absolutely not,” Jamie cuts her off. “If that man finds out, I’ll never hear the end of it. Little shit still brings up the Rosebush Incident of Eighty-five whenever I break out the pruning shears.” Her arm drapes heavy around Dani’s neck as they round a corner.

“What--”

“Don’t,” Jamie wheezes, “ask.”

“You realize how dumb that is, right? And I’m definitely going to ask,” Dani says, guiding them toward the front door. Jamie stops short.

“Side door,” she explains, “servants’ hall. Won’t go past the kitchen. Can use one of the empty rooms until I sort myself out.”

“You might want to get your head checked if you think I’m leaving you alone like this.”

Dani readjusts her grip, while Jamie nimbly flips through a massive ring of keys Dani swears she’s never seen before, yet Jamie handles with the expertise of someone who does this daily. Which, Dani realizes, feeling rather stupid, she probably does.

“Fuck,” Jamie says under her breath as the door opens, revealing a hallway Dani has yet to explore. Dani sees the problem. She looks at Jamie. She looks at the narrow staircase. She evaluates her upper body strength.

Then, Jamie is making a rather undignified noise as Dani lifts her without warning, and Dani would be lying if she said the look on Jamie’s face isn’t extraordinarily satisfying. Something about seeing her stoic, mulish girlfriend, gone limp in her arms, looking at her, a little awestruck, well… it’s a sight Dani intends to cherish. And definitely not for the potential blackmail purposes.

Only after Dani gingerly deposits her on the blue quilt in Dani’s room does Jamie say, deadly serious, “We never speak of this again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dani says, “take these.” She plops two pills and a cup of water in Jamie’s hand and disappears into the adjacent bathroom.

“That’s the spirit, Poppins,” she calls after her.

“Come on,” Dani says, reappearing in the doorway. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes before you catch a cold.”

“I’m fine,” Jamie scoffs, visibly shivering.

“The mud stain on my duvet says otherwise. Come on. Up you get. The bath is filling.”

“I can’t ask you to let me use your bath.”

“Good thing you’re not asking, then.”

The half-formed rebuke dies on Jamie’s lips, and she nods as if to say, touché, but Dani is certain she will not be hearing the end of this. She beckons Jamie up and pulls her into the other room, leaning her against the countertop. Without thinking, she begins undoing the buttons on Jamie’s top.

“Blimey,” Jamie remarks, not pushing Dani away, but stilling her movements.

Dani can feel the heat rise in her cheeks. She backpedals. “I, um, I didn’t-- I’m so sorry.”

Jamie just laughs, “Only teasing, love. But, ah, I can probably take it from here, yeah?”

“Um, yeah. I’ll just… be in the bedroom. If you need me.”

Dani slumps against the door as it closes behind her. The sound of the water running mimics the rush of blood in her ears. They’ve only been doing... whatever this is between them for a month. Not long at all. Certainly not long enough to be undressing her in the middle of the day with people in the house while she’s in pain. Dani hadn’t meant it in an erotic way but, Jesus, Dani, show some restraint.

She exhales. Right. Organize. Jamie will need a towel. She’ll need dry clothes. Maybe tea? A warm compress. Or ice? What do people put on sore muscles? A massage? Dani swallows thickly and shakes off the thought of Jamie’s smooth skin beneath her fingertips, tightness dissipating as Dani works the knots away. She absolutely does not imagine Jamie melting into the mattress or the moans that might escape through her lips, and she decidedly does not dwell upon the rare sight of Jamie, pliant and entirely relaxed.

Absolutely not. Shove that into a box and come back to it later. It’s worked well enough in the past.

Right then.

Dani sets about making the necessary rearrangements, shuffling her boots into the closet, digging out appropriately loose clothes for laying about, and swiping a plate of sandwiches from the kitchen, making some excuse about Jamie being too busy to come in, but she sends her thanks. Owen raises an eyebrow at this, but apparently does not feel the need to comment. Hannah, however, takes one look at Dani’s muddy knees and frowns.

“Miss Clayton, you had better not be tracking mud through my house.”

“Yes, Miss Clayton, or else you will have to mop up the mess just like Miles!” Flora states, intently focused on the cucumber and cream cheese sandwich on her plate.

“I told you it wasn’t me!” Miles objects loudly, his drinking glass making contact with the table with a bit more force than necessary.

“It’s in the past,” Dani dismisses, before the situation can get out of hand. She turns to Hannah, and, in her best I’m-setting-an-example-please-go-with-it voice, says, “Of course, Mrs. Grose, I made sure to wipe my feet at the door, but I will clean up any messes I made because it is very important that we all clean up our own messes.”

“Right you are, dear.”

“Could I get a cup of tea to take to Jamie as well? I’d make it but…”

“Say no more,” Owen rises from his seat at the table. “Wouldn’t want to poison poor Jamie, now would we?” Then, with a chuckle, “She’s got you properly whipped, hasn’t she? Trekking lunch out to whatever corner of the grounds she’s wound up in.”

“Why’s Jamie whipping Miss Clayton?” Flora pipes up.

Dani feels her face flush. “Oh, sweetie, she’s, um, that’s not--”

“What Owen means to say, is it’s very nice of Miss Clayton to deliver a meal to Jamie while she’s working,” Hannah says pointedly.

Owen coughs. “Ah, yeah, to-tea-lly leaf-ly of her to help out.”

“Hannah, I was thinking of taking my lunch with Jamie. Would you mind keeping an eye on these two for a little while?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Hannah chaffs, “They’re an awful lot of trouble, these two.”

“You think,” Owen chimes in, “they’d behave if I told them I could use a hand baking biscuits this afternoon?”

“I suppose that might do it,” Hannah says, an expression of faux pensivity creasing her forehead. “What do you think, children?”

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Grose, that would be perfectly splendid!”

“Can we make snickerdoodles?”

“Don’t see why not,” Owen says. He hands a teacup to Dani. “Off with you. Go find your knight in mud and dungarees.”

Dani shoots them a grateful smile and heads back upstairs, delicately balancing the cup with the plate of food. She knocks thrice.

“Yeah.” Jamie’s voice comes muffled through the heavy wooden door as Dani cautiously turns the knob.

Dani lets out a moderately embarrassing squeak and immediately averts her eyes, intent on looking anywhere except at a very wet, towel-clad Jamie. “Oh, um, good. Y-you found the towel.”

“That I did. I, ah, wasn’t sure if these were for me,” she gestures to the neatly folded stack of clothes on the bed, “didn’t want to assume.”

“They’re, um, they’re for you.” There’s a fascinating crack in the floor Dani has never noticed before. It’s about four inches long and almost invisible.

“Hey, Dani, you can look.” Jamie sounds almost concerned. ‘S’okay. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.” She grins wryly.

“No, no, yeah, I know. It just, I don’t know, feels different when it’s not for that reason.”

“Dani Clayton, not a fan of casual nudity. Noted,” Jamie teases.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t a fan.” Dani places the tea and sandwiches on the bedside table, stepping into Jamie’s space.

“That so?”

“Mhm,” Dani hums, “and I’m going to stop this runaway train right here. You’re injured.”

Jamie huffs. “Bloody rude.”

“How’s your back?”

“Feels fine. Right as rain. I’ll just get dressed and go back out--”

“You most certainly will not. You are going to get dressed and get in this bed and you are going to rest.”

“But I’ve still got to finish in the statuary, and Hannah’s brought up a crack she wants me to fix, and--”

“--and all of those things can wait. I’ve taken care of enough idiotic teenage sports injuries to know that straining it will only make it worse. So, put these on, and get into bed.” She leaves no room for disagreement.

“I can’t believe you just used your teacher voice on me.”

“I can’t believe you’re being this obstinate.”

“I’m fine!”

“Why won’t you let me take care of you?” It is not aggressive. It comes out softly, a hint of confusion combined with an ounce of desperation.

Jamie freezes. “I don’t…”

“You only took a bath after I practically forced you--”

“I wouldn’t--”

“You could’ve really hurt yourself.”

“I know, but--”

“How long would you have laid out there in the mud before calling for help?”

“Dani,” Jamie interrupts, an appeasing thumb running along the inside of Dani’s wrist, “look, I just…” she sighs. “It’s not that easy.”

“It is, though,” Dani insists.

“No, love, it’s not. Not when you’ve been… well, not when you’re me.” She pauses, sits on the bed, and nudges Dani down next to her. “I don’t like feeling useless, s’all. People look at you, see you laying about, they see weakness. Someone to be pitied or someone to be taken advantage of. Just once is all it takes for them to get the idea you can’t stand on your own two feet.”

She seems a million miles away, a decade, even, and Dani waits. Jamie will continue if she wants to.

“I don’t like being pitied. And I know that’s not...that’s not what you’re trying to do.” She chooses her words carefully, as if walking through a minefield. Dani stands on the other side. “No need to give me the talk about everybody needing help. ‘Cause, in theory, yeah, that’s true, but when you’ve always been the one doing the helping... it… it’s not all that easy to be on the receiving end.” The last sentence is rushed, and Jamie finishes with a humorless snort of laughter. Her thumb has halted its caress of Dani’s skin.

Dani is silent for a moment. Coddling would be met with rejection. Not outright, no, but Dani knows better. Jamie has lain bare this piece of her soul, held out a fragment of her identity in tender hands, and trusts Dani to take it under her care, treasure it. Jamie had woven the tale of her life under the moonlight, and Dani has spent the past month trying to unravel the threads, to understand. Now, Jamie has given her a new string to follow, but she cannot pull too hard, lest it fall apart.

Dani speaks, quiet, but firm. “We’ll just have to practice then, won’t we.”

A flicker of confusion passes over Jamie’s face as she processes. Then, she softens. Her thumb resumes its rhythmic movement.

There will be other times, Dani has said, and I will stay and I will be here for you because you aren’t alone anymore.

And that seems to be enough.

Jamie exhales through her nose.

“Bit nippy in here. Might, ah, might want to put on some clothes.”

Right. Yes. Of course. Jamie is still in a towel. Gooseflesh has risen along her legs, and she shivers.

“Oh, oh, yeah,” Dani stammers, “I’ll just--” She mimes turning around and is met with a chuckle.

“You weren’t this shy the other night, if memory serves.”

“That,” Dani reiterates, “that was different.” She makes a show of fussing with the corner of the duvet, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles.

Jamie makes a noncommittal noise low in her throat. “I’m decent.”

Dani had picked the clothes, sure, but for a woman who prides herself on preparedness, actually seeing Jamie in Dani’s old elementary school t-shirt and loose-fitting, flannel trousers causes the circuits in her brain to fry.

“Your tea’s getting cold,” she says dumbly. “I didn’t make it,” she adds, noting Jamie’s look of skepticism. Apparently satisfied with that answer, Jamie sips at her beverage and slides under the covers, gesturing for Dani to join her. She shakes her head. “I still need to clean myself up. Hannah’s watching the kids for now, but I really should get back to them.”

“A tragedy of Shakespearen proportions.”

“You need anything else before I shower?”

“No, thank you, love.” Modest affection shines on Jamie’s face, and she speaks so genuinely Dani’s heart aches. She smiles.

“Get some rest, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jamie gives a mock salute, at which Dani can only roll her eyes before exiting  into the bathroom with an extra towel and a change of clothes.

When she returns, wringing her hair out, she finds Jamie soundly asleep. The teacup has been placed on the table, next to the plate now missing a sandwich, and Jamie is curled on her side, puffing slow, measured breaths.

Chamomile tea. Who knew?

Dani makes sure to close the door quietly, and she does her best to herd the children away from that side of the house.

It’s about time for supper when Dani makes her way back to her room. When Jamie does not answer her knocks, Dani opens the door, praying the hinges will not squeak for once. Jamie is still nestled in Dani’s bed. She’s rolled over, though, facing the door, and Dani can see her bangs billowing slightly with every breath. Jamie’s nose twitches where the hair tickles it.

This isn’t the first time Dani has seen Jamie in her bed, and she certainly hopes it won’t be the last, but this, this casual intimacy, is something so precious to her. She wants it to last.

Dani perches on the edge of the mattress, reaching out to remove the offending strand of hair from Jamie’s face, and Jamie stirs.

“Hey,” Dani whispers, and Jamie cracks an eye. She presses a hand to her forehead. One of her shirtsleeves has fallen to the side, revealing pale collarbones.

“Hey.” Her voice is gravelly, sleep-laden, in a way that makes Dani’s stomach turn over itself. “Time s’it?”

“Around six, I think?” That grabs Jamie’s attention. Before Dani can stop her, she’s scrambling to sit up, completely forgetting that’s a terrible idea and acting surprised when she topples back onto the pillows with a grunt.

“Easy, easy…” Dani scolds sweetly, as Jamie gasps. “You’re okay. Just lay back. That’s it.”

“Christ.”

“Forgot why you ended up here in the first place, huh?”

“I can’t believe you let me sleep all day,” Jamie says, when the stab of pain fades. “Thought you’d at least wake me up after an hour or so. Had things to do.”

“We said they could wait.”

“You said they could wait.”

“You can’t seriously be mad at me for making you take care of yourself.”

“Feel like I wasted a day, s’all.”

“Well, you didn’t. Taking care of yourself is never a waste,” Dani says, effectively ending the argument. “Do you want to come down for dinner, or do you want me to bring it up to you?” Jamie opens her mouth, but Dani continues, “Before you answer, I want you to think about whether you’re making this decision based on what’s easiest for me, or what you actually feel capable of doing.”

Jamie’s brows raise. “Someone’s feeling bold this evening.”

Dani resists the urge to shirk away, to cave. She knows Jamie would drop it instantly, reassuring Dani that she hasn’t actually overstepped. Instead, Dani says, quietly, sincerely, “You don’t have to put your needs aside to make my life easier.” She considers, leans down so that she’s laying next to Jamie on the bed. “Besides, I like taking care of you.”

Jamie studies her. Whether she’s looking for the lie or for Dani to pull back and say, “just kidding!” Dani doesn’t know. Jamie presses a gentle kiss to her lips, a kiss that speaks the words she cannot. A kiss that says, I’m working on it.

Dani stays close when they break apart, their foreheads touching. “So, dinner?”

“Should probably make an appearance.”

Dani gives her a pointed look. “‘Should’ or ‘want to.’”

“Want to,” Jamie assures, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“You know,” Dani says, helping Jamie sit up slowly, “we should probably tell them how you hurt yourself, or they’ll assume it was from less, hm, virtuous activities.”

“Dirty bird.” Jamie swats her arm. “Owen, maybe, but not our good, Christian Hannah.”

“But do you really want to deal with the comments at the table?”

“Fine. We tell them I fell, and that’s it.”

“Right, so I shouldn’t mention your incredibly stupid idea to move a heavy marble statue without help?”

“Not ideally, no.”

Dani pouts. “Do I at least get to ask about the Rosebush Incident of Eighty-five?”

“You’re not gonna let that one go, are you?” Jamie sighs. “Fine. Ask Owen, then. Suppose you’ll find out about it eventually.” Dani places a gleeful kiss on her cheek.

“Come on, let’s get some food into you.”

The few hours of bedrest appear to have paid off, Dani thinks smugly, as Jamie is perfectly capable of walking herself down the hall. Jamie, however, seems to be rather content to use this as an excuse to lean into Dani, and Dani can’t say she minds all that much. She stands on her own as they near the kitchen and moves with only a slight limp and a wince Dani only catches because she’s looking for it.

At another time, she’ll wonder how often Jamie has hidden her pain.

“There she is!” Owen exclaims when they take their unassigned, assigned seats at the table.

“What happened, dear?” Hannah says simultaneously, as Owen does a double take, clearly trying to figure out what he’s missing. It dawns on him a moment later.

“Fell. ‘M fine,” Jamie shrugs.

“Must’ve been some fall,” Owen remarks, with a smirk that has Dani wary.

“Hm?” Jamie does not look up from the roll she’s buttering.

“You’re wearing Miss Clayton’s clothes,” Flora observes helpfully. Dani chokes on her water. Shit. How could she have missed that?

To her credit, Jamie continues without faltering. “Tripped, landed in a mud puddle, and I didn’t have a change of clothes in the truck. Miss Clayton was nice enough to loan me hers.”

Well, the first part, at least, is true. Dani pinches herself for not asking if Jamie had her own clothes to change into. Even if she does look divine in the free t-shirt they gave Dani when she started teaching.

Owen seems skeptical, but, blessedly, he drops the subject in favor of animatedly recounting the story of their baking adventures that afternoon.

Hannah catches them after dinner, just as Dani is preparing to send the children to bed. “Will you be staying the night, Jamie? In the unfortunate event your injury acts up, of course,” she says with a mirthful wink.

Jamie looks to Dani for an answer, her mouth moving but no words coming out.

“Yes,” Dani decides for them.

“I’m assuming I won’t need to make up the guest bedroom for you?”

“Oh, um, no, thanks. That won’t be necessary.” Dani isn’t sure why she’s blushing. It’s not as if the whole manor doesn’t know about them. They’d tried hiding at first, sneaking about and slipping into dark corners like teenagers. They were not very good at it.

Later, with Miles and Flora safely asleep and Owen and Hannah having taken their leave for the evening, Jamie returns to Dani’s bed, this time with Dani sliding in behind her. Dani nuzzles into her back, careful not to touch any sore areas.

“I know I was an idiot,” Jamie’s voice cuts nervously through the darkness, “but, ah, just wanted to say thanks. For caring about me. Not really...not really used to that.”

Dani can feel her entire body tense. She presses tender kisses along Jamie’s back. “Of course,” she murmurs, and she hopes her conviction comes across. “Always.” She hesitates. “You’re not wrong about being an idiot, though,” Dani giggles.

“You like it.” It’s not meant to be a question, though Jamie’s voice wavers.

“I do,” Dani confirms affectionately, “I do.”

Jamie relaxes against her.

#woohoo! #accidentally wrote like 3k more words than planned but its fine #pls enjoy jamie being a dumbass #and dani forcing her to accept affection #the haunting of bly manor #thobm #thobm jamie #jamie #damie #dani clayton #jamie x dani #dani x jamie #Hannah grose #Owen sharma #flora wingrave #miles wingrave #fic #writing #my writing #thobm fanfic #damie fanfic #jamie taylor #Danielle clayton #bly manor

[dismalzelenka]

For DADW: "Either way you choose you cannot win" for Handers. "I choose to not understand these signs" for Nanders.

Played around with some more canon divergent Journeyverse AU 😌 first @dadrunkwriting prompt I've taken in probably three years and it goes absolutely nowhere and also the prompt has been VERY loosely interpreted but here we are 🥂 bottoms up kiddos

“Either way you choose, you cannot win,” Fenris hissed.

“We are far past the point of winning,” Anders shot back.

Hawke rubbed her eyes with her palms. She was mostly concerned about the fact that they were still in the Deep Roads, and she was being completely honest, she was only half paying attention to the argument unfolding in front of her. It happened enough; she already knew how this would play out. They'd yell it out and then reluctantly slink back and apologize and everyone else would breathe a sigh of relief for some fucking peace and quiet. It was positively formulaic at this point.

She was far too preoccupied with other matters today: namely, the Grey Warden archer carefully fixing the fletching on his arrows at the edge of camp.

His name was Nathaniel. He'd served with Anders in Amaranthine.

They'd been lovers.

Quite frankly that last part bothered her less than she'd have expected, but beneath the faint prickling of jealousy that wove its way beneath her skin whenever he and Anders locked gazes, there was far more fascination on her part than anything else. The secrets were what ate away at her more than anything else, but she'd grown up being taught the importance of keeping them enough to let well enough alone.

It helped that he was easy on the eyes.

“Is something the matter, my lady?” he said quietly.

“Just — Hawke,” she croaked. “I'm not a — it's just my — Hawke is fine. I'm fine. Everything is fine. I'm — going to go over there.” She pointed vaguely in the opposite direction and wandered that way immediately.

Alright, with a voice like that, she was pretty sure she couldn't blame Anders one bit, she decided with a huff. She kicked a stray piece of stone and watched it bounce down the edge of an overhang into the darkness below.

Sure hope that didn't awaken something.

“You alright, Sparkles?” Varric's voice floated over her as she scuffed her boot into the stone.

“I would be if you'd stop calling me Sparkles,” she shot back automatically.

He laughed, a hearty sound from the center of his chest. “Trust me, you'll like the alternatives I came up with even less.”

“Try me,” she muttered.

—

She'd been beginning to nod off against the rather large rock she'd slumped against when someone shook her awake by the shoulder. “Are you alright, love?”

Why did everyone keep asking her that?

“Just tired,” she mumbled automatically. Maybe if she convinced enough people, she'd start believing it herself.

“Have you even eaten yet?”

“Why, were you too busy picking fights to notice anything else around you?” Ouch. That wasn't fair, and she winced the second it came out of her mouth. She squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath. “Sorry. I'm — I didn't mean that. This place makes me jumpy. I don't know how he stands it.” She jerked her head at Nathaniel, casually reading something by the firelight. She was babbling and she knew it, but she was too wound up to make herself stop.

“Journey. Breathe.” Hands on her shoulders, gentle touches drawing her back to reality. “I'm fairly certain the Deep Roads could make an arse out of Andraste herself.”

“Are you so smitten, that I could insult you to your face and you would still compare me to Andraste?” she teased as she tipped her head back and finally met his eyes.

“Keep looking at me like that and I'd let you get away with a lot more than insults,” he breathed before planting a kiss on her forehead and pulling her to her feet. “And you haven't eaten, have you,” he said finally with a flat stare.

“Is that a statement or a question?”

“It's a very exasperated healer who doesn't wish to see the light of his life waste away into nothing before we see daylight again.”

“You're certainly one to talk,” she grumbled, but she let him lead her back to camp anyway with minimal complaint. “Light of your life, you say?” she prodded with a grin when he thrust a bowl of beans into her hands. “What colour?”

“Hmm.” He paused thoughtfully. “D’you know the moment you open your eyes in direct sunlight after a night of drinking so much you forget your own existence?” His grin broadened. “That colour.”

She smacked him on the chest in offense. “Prat,” she snorted.

She trailed off when she looked up and saw Nathaniel watching them with an odd expression on his face. Anders cupped her face between his hands. “I'm with you,” he said firmly. “Past be damned. This is just a favour for an old friend. Nothing more.”

She didn't know how to respond to that, so she just squeezed his hand and left it alone.

—

It was impossible to mark the passage of days in the Deep Roads; Hawke awoke from a markedly troubled sleep and helped tear down the camp in exhausted silence. The entire place reeked of death and rot tinged with the sickly sweet scent of something that wanted to be enticing but managed to land well on the other side of foul. It reminded her of her first trip into the Deep Roads, and of her less than glamorous voyage to Kirkwall before all of this ever began.

“Where did you learn how to fight?” Nathaniel asked curiously after a skirmish with darkspawn left her winded and depleted enough she managed to knock back an entire lyrium potion without gagging. Sweet, metallic, and unnaturally cold as it slipped down her throat like distilled sweat. The taste still made her shudder even as she stuffed the bottle back into her pack.

“My father taught me,” she said with a grimace. She spat the last of the taste onto the ground. “Ugh. Awful stuff.”

“Was your father also an apostate?”

“Of course not. The Circle gave him permission to traipse about the countryside with a wife and three children. Sometimes they sent Templars after him, but only as a friendly little game.”

“I'm choosing to interpret that as a joke that wasn't at my expense.”

“So you're an idiot and a poor comedian.”

He snorted. “And you're remarkably short tempered for a Champion.”

“You didn't think I killed the Arishok with my winning personality, did you? I'm sorry to say you're going to be awfully disappointed.”

“You're working so hard to win me over,” he said dryly. “And here I've been told I'm quite likeable beneath the scowl.”

“Is that so?” She squared her stance in front of him and planted her hands firmly on her hips with a smirk. “What happened to the last person who tried to win you over?”

His gaze flickered ahead of them to Anders as his expression darkened. “I watched him die,” he muttered. He took a deep breath. “We're falling behind. We shouldn't linger.”

#dadrunkwriting #f!handers #past nanders #eventual nahanders #this is probably my least developed AU of the three of them #weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee