#oddly enough..my cousins name is that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rinhaler · 2 months

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As promised!!! Since I love your writing, I had this imagination spark while listening to Chase Atlantic's "HEAVEN AND BACK" song, oddly to say I associate Rin Itoshi in every CA songs. Basically could I request a steamy one-night stand of him meeting reader in a big crowded bar where Rin is likely a bass guitarist? Sounds cheesy of it but XD

GLAD U SAID BASS PLAYER MY BOYF PLAYS BASS 😭 sorry this took SO long to post but I hope u like it :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, alcohol consumption, (kinda fast) enemies to lovers, fingering, love bites, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess etc.), squirting.

words: 2.2k

It’s been years since you’ve been to a gig. Especially one like this, in a dingy dive bar for a barely known local band. The guitarist is a friend of your cousin’s. And she just about begged you to go.

The place is pretty packed and the music definitely isn’t the worst you’ve heard. In fact, you found yourself swaying your hips and tapping your toes along to the beat. As the night went on and on, you were surprised to find that they were actually good. Good enough to be searching for their latest single when they promoted it at the end of their set.

“Play nice please,” your cousin begs. “I really like him, and I think tonight might be the night.”

“I knew he wasn’t just a fucking friend.” you laugh. She crosses her arms across her chest as embarrassment surges through her, but you still decide to tease her. “You really needed me to help you get some dick?”

“Shut up!” she blushes. “You always have guys falling at your feet so I thought it might rub off on me.” she pouts.

You clear your throat when you notice the guy in question heading your way. She turns around, instantly, smoothing her hair down and putting on the highest, girliest voice she can muster. He seems interested enough without her needing your help, but you decide to stay a few extra seconds for moral support. She giggles at every sentence and smiles giddily whenever he speaks.

“Tone it down, you’re good.” you whisper in her ear before slinking away to the bar.

You signal for a drink, thankful for the low-cut top you’re wearing as everyone else seems to be instantly ignored in favour of you. There’s a scoff beside you, one you choose to ignore until he watches you receive your pint of beer.

“Is there something on my face?” you ask.

“No.” he responds. “I’m jealous of your drink, princess.”

“Excuse me, can you get this guy a beer too?” you yell. The bartender nods with a smile and quickly acquiesces. “Will that put a smile on your pretty face?”

He smirks but shakes his head as he ignores you. He thanks the bartender as he receives his own drink, the frothy head attaching itself to his lip before he licks it away. He grunts a little as he feels a passerby knock into the big black case on his back. It’s only then that you notice it, and pieces begin to fall into place.

“Oh fuck. You were in the band.” you smile excitedly as you angle your body to face him. “I wasn’t gonna come tonight but I’m glad I did.” you giggle as you pull up your phone to show the bands single saved in your music library.

“Thanks.” he nods. “Why did you come?”

“Uh my cousin is trying to fuck the guitarist.”

“You’re Ada’s cousin?” he asks, expression changing to one of slight annoyance. He takes another swig of his beer before elaborating. “Zantetsu hasn’t shut up about her and she’s always crashing our practices. I hope they get it over with, it’s getting in the way.”

“Oh you’re a serious musician. Gotcha.” you roll your eyes. “You know you play the most boring instrument out of everyone, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Drummers are the hottest, guitars are the most iconic, everyone’s drawn to the singer. And then there’s… you. No one can even hear you over all of that, you know.”

He scoffs once again. You can tell he wants to fight you on it and fill your head with facts about his instrument of choice. But it’s almost like he already knows you and how stubborn you are. He could tell you anything he wants, but you’ll die on the hill you’ve decided to climb just to piss him off more.

“They’d sound like shit if it wasn’t for me.” he mumbles before taking another drink. “The bass is the most important part, you’re clueless. It’s like you’ve never listened to music in your life.”

“Clueless?” you repeat. “Besides, you’ve got a pretty face. I’m sure if your attitude wasn’t so rotten and you were the lead singer you’d be drowning in pussy.”

“I do alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You squint your eyes sceptically. There’s no doubt that he has the potential to pull a girl or two. And, admittedly, you’ve had one very hostile conversation with him. But you can tell from his sulky demeanour that any woman he has a chance with is likely scared off by his attitude.

He tries to ignore you for the remainder of his drink.

God, he tries.

But he’s overwhelmed by the desire to put you in your place.

“I—”

“There’s no way you’re getting girls.” you interrupt him immediately. “Like, no way. Maybe one or two, but you’re not doing better than the lead. He’s gorgeous and he’s the face of the band.”

His smile is wicked as he holds his near empty glass, swilling the golden liquid around the bottom before he puts it down on a coaster. “You really don’t get it, do you?” you’re a little taken aback as he bites his lip whilst looking at you from the corner of his eye.

His expression makes your heart beat a little faster. You find yourself shuffling in your seat as you see just how strikingly handsome he really is when he’s trying. And then it hits you, he’s trying. He’s showing you what he’s capable of and you’re falling for it. Even with the knowledge, it’s too late. All you can think about his that sharp jawline and striking stare.

“You know what they say about bass players.” he says quietly, but loud enough for you to hear. His barstool spins so he’s facing you. You take a sharp inhale as he slowly leans in towards you, the smell of beer on his pretty lips makes you heady and excited, waiting with bated breath for him to continue. “They’re good with their fingers.”

You can’t stifle a laugh as he pulls away, giggling like your cousin had been moments prior whilst flirting with the guitarist. It’s embarrassing, letting him see you reduced to this after trying to irritate him. You clear your throat and try to gain your composure.

“You’re disgusting.” you respond.

“Mmm, you want to find out though, so,” he shrugs, finishing the last dregs of his drink. “I’ll wait by the entrance for ten minutes, if you don’t come find me, I’ll leave without you.” he walks away without even looking at you.

You don’t get a chance to say a word before he seamlessly weaves through the crowd and out of sight. Without thinking, you’re already on your feet and checking the time.

Ten minutes.

You rush through the bar to find Ada, tapping on her shoulder to pull her attention away from Zantetsu. “I’m leaving. Seal the deal, please.” you wink. She nods, laughing as you kiss her cheek and rush towards the entrance.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you saw his face light up when he realised you were actually going to take him up on his offer. He plays it off, though, trying to appear cooler and more aloof as you approach him.

“It’s barely been two minutes.” he tells you.

“I’m not gonna let you hear the end of it if you’re all talk.” you smirk.

The minute he gets you inside of his apartment, you can’t keep your hands off each other. Your lips are on his in an instant, your breath stolen as he lifts you from the ground and encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist while he carries you into the kitchen.

He helps you out of the vest top you’re wearing when he sits you down on the counter so you’re down to your jeans and bra. You tilt your head as he peppers your neck in a combination of soft and sloppy kisses.

Your heels fall off without effort as you instinctively open your legs, rolling your hip against his clothed abs.

“My roommate is out,” he tells you quietly, still kissing you all over. You moan softly as he starts leaving soft bite marks across your skin. “He’s such a clean freak, he’d lose it if he knew—”

“It’s okay,” you giggle, you cup his face and direct him to kiss you again. “Help me get my jeans off.”

He wastes no time unbuttoning them and yanking down the zipper. He keeps his eyes on yours as he helps you shimmy out of the wide-legged jeans, smiling at you as you both hear them crumple on the ground.

“Gonna show me what a stud you are?” you ask, spreading your legs to reveal your dark, lewd panties. There’s a glint of amusement in his eye, which soon turns into a toothy grin as he runs his finger along the damp slit. “Fuck,”

“You’re soaking for me already, good girl.” he tells you. He begins to rub your clit over the lace covering your flesh, and you’re immediately putty in his hands. Your legs quiver slightly, and you rush to close them, but he pries them apart before leaning in to kiss you. “Keep them open for me.” he demands before slipping his tongue between your lips.

“Haah.. haaaah~!” you whimper, his featherlight ministrations seeming like magic as he continues to tease your clit.

“Fuck,” he grunts, fingers curling around the waistband of your panties before he begins to tug. “Off. Get them off.” he demands, ordering you to wiggle on the counter until he manages to peel them from your cunt and slip them down your legs. He distracts you with a kiss as he shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans.

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as he resumes circling your now bare clit. Your face is picturesque, he thinks, as your eyes become heavy and your pants are more uncontrollable.

“Are you faking this to piss me off?” he wonders. You shake your head slowly. “You’re so sensitive…”

“S-Shut up,” you bite your lip before giggling. “Haven’t gotten any in a while.”

“Well we can’t have that. Better make up for lost time.” he grins, fingers traversing from your throbbing clit to your entrance. His jaw hangs low, moaning in faux sympathy as he starts to stretch you immediately with two fingers. “You’re so tight baby, takin’ me so well.” he tells you.

He doesn’t wait for a response before his head sinks to nestle in the crook of your neck as he assaults your skin with a cacophony moans and sucks, decorating your flesh with his name in a purple and blue masterpiece.

Your cunt squelches as he presses his fingers deeper and deeper into your gooey interior, eagerly searching for your sweet spot and hellbent on targeting it. He hears you squeak, body almost falling limp with a particularly delicious curling of his fingers. You feel his smug expression against your pulse point, but instead of mocking you, his canines gently graze against it.

“She’s so loud for me, baby. Your sloppy little pussy loves me.” he breathes. You throw your head back as he continues to delve deeper and deeper until you can no longer fight off the urge to scream his name.

“FUCK, Rin!” you cry. “There! R-Right there!”

“There, princess?” he asks, though it’s rhetorical. He already knows what you want and what he needs to do. You’re happy you goaded him. But he’s happier to know he’s proving you wrong. “You’re squeezing so tight… won’t be able to play with your pussy or my bass if you break my fingers.”

“Sto- stop. Goddddd Rin I’m gonna c-um. Gonna cum!” you warn him, as if he didn’t already know. You wrap your arms around his neck in a needy display that makes you sick, but you don’t care enough to stop. He doesn’t mind, either. Making out with you passionately, swapping spit as drool dribbles and pools from each of your mouths. His lips remain connected to yours by a single string of spit as you break away to moan through your high.

He swallows them, though. Transfixed by the feeling and pride that you’re offering your prettiest sounds for him to devour while your legs quiver violently on either side of his hand.

You throw your head back as your pussy begins to squirt and douse his fingers. He doesn’t even flinch, immediately using his free hand to swipe across your clit to extend your pleasure and further the mess spurting from the apex of your thighs.

“She really likes me, baby.” he smirks at you, an expression so smarmy you’d punch him if he hadn’t made you feel so good. “You came so fast for me.”

“You’re welcome.” you giggle, leaning forward to kiss him. “I got what I came for so I’m gonna leave now.” you tell him as you pretend to free yourself of his hold. He shakes his head, lower lip tugged by his teeth as he tries to supress a smile.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart. Nowhere near through with you yet.”

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock smut #itoshi rin smut #rin itoshi smut #bllk smut #bllk x fem!reader

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quoththemaiden · 2 months

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@mrghostrat This is now the third time since December that I'm writing about your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems (1, 2). Please come collect them, because they're causing a disturbance.

Or, if you aren't able to wrangle them, then please enjoy this scene inspired by Chapter 10 of Big Name Feelings.

For everyone who hasn't already seen the top portion of this on Discord, know that this is set sometime after the con but before the big bang.

—

"I think your hair might be getting long enough to braid now."

Crowley's eyes snapped over to him. "Braid?"

Aziraphale blinked at the sharp question. "I didn't mean anything by it." He'd still never figured out quite where Crowley's gender identity lay, or if it changed day-by-day. He suspected Crowley's public presentation of his gender was either "whatever's simplest for everyone involved" (around people he didn't know but generally liked, like at the con) or "whatever causes the most problems for everyone involved" (like with a particularly annoying security guard that had left Aziraphale remembering that being middle-aged, white, and extremely stuffy in appearance was its own form of armor). Aziraphale's own perception of Crowley's gender was just "Crowley." What Crowley felt about it was something Aziraphale had never quite managed to parse out. "You can do whatever you like—"

"Do you know how?"

"How...?"

"To braid hair." Crowley's tone was oddly urgent. "Like for your nieces or cousins or—"

"—for crafting, yes. Tassels for bookmarks and such. You want me to—" Crowley practically flinging himself down onto the sofa next to him was answer enough. "Oh."

Crowley's hair really was barely long enough to braid, Aziraphale decided as he gently freed it from its elastic band. He ran his fingers through it slowly and carefully, easing out the light tangles from a day's confinement. Crowley slumped forward in boneless contentment, and Aziraphale had to switch to prickling the top of his scalp with his fingernails to get him to sit up straight enough for Aziraphale to work.

Aziraphale determined his gameplan, then, and gently eased up a few locks of hair at the crown of Crowley's head, smoothing down the top with the flat of his palm. He started working the strands into a French braid, taking it tiny piece by tiny piece to ensure every section was balanced in size. If Crowley were doing it himself, he suspected he'd get it done in just five messy joins, but every strand he brought in gave Aziraphale another excuse to run his fingertips along Crowley's scalp and he luxuriated in each opportunity. "Has anyone ever told you your hair is unreasonably thick?" he murmured, his voice huskier with fond affection than he'd intended. Crowley spared him from a tease by being too utterly sedated to manage more than a vague hum in response. Aziraphale smiled at that and kept his progress blissfully slow and methodical until he had no choice but to tie the braid off at the nape of Crowley's neck — half a French braid, half a ponytail made bushy from having had waves worked into it. He placed a soft kiss to the back of Crowley's head, padded by the thickest part of Crowley's braid and somehow all the more intimate for it. "All done, love."

Crowley leaned back against Aziraphale's chest, tilting back his head to look up at him with eyes made impossibly soft with contentment. "I'm never putting my own hair up again. Just hope you know that."

Aziraphale chuckled softly, just as fond. "I'll manage somehow, I suppose."

—

Crowley's boneless appreciation of the hair braiding had turned into boneless napping, and while Aziraphale enjoyed having Crowley fall asleep against him at certain times of day, he had never been one for naps himself and there was a limit to how long he could stay motionless sans entertainment before even he got antsy. He eased his way out from under Crowley, grateful the other man was a heavy sleeper even during the day, and was left deciding what quiet amusement he could pursue until whenever Crowley woke up and started making noises about dinner. He could always read some fanfics, of course, but his eyes couldn't help but be drawn towards his favorite muse.

His muse who had, he recalled, tempted him into joining a rigged bang and had talked him into getting a digital tablet. Aziraphale still planned to do his official art for it traditionally, because he was sure Crowley's writing would deserve no less... and, if he was allowed to be vain in the privacy of his own mind, because he still remembered the feeling he'd had when Crowley responded to his scans with barely coherent keysmashing. He wasn't in deferential awe of Crowley anymore, although he still loved his writing just as much, but part of him still hoped that Crowley might respond with just as much enthusiasm at getting to see the finished piece in person, textured paper and unprocessed colors and all. Well, assuming he could be gutsy enough to actually give it to him in person instead of just leaving it on the drafting table for him to find, which was really the more statistically likely result. But anyway.

But anyway.

His muse was sleeping in front of him, and a stylus on an iPad would make hardly any noise at all. And if he got good enough at using it, maybe he could draw some extra digital art to celebrate the fic as well.

In any case, sketching Crowley while he slept was one of life's little joys. He didn't think Crowley knew how often he did it, and that was probably for the best. If he did it all in his notebook, it would have been too easy for Crowley to flip through and find the sketches (and removing sheets would have felt damnably like a guilty conscience). With his iPad, however, he was safe to sketch as much as he liked and there was no real way for Crowley to stumble across it. Aziraphale willfully shoved aside the thought that that didn't really sound any less guilty and started setting stylus to screen. It wasn't long until he'd settled into a comfortable rhythm, his eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and where Crowley was lying face-down on the sofa, his new braid highlighted in a beam of afternoon sunlight.

Something Aziraphale did appreciate about digital art was that white could be layered on top of other colors and be shockingly vibrant, which wasn't an effect he could get easily with his beloved watercolors. Something else watercolors didn't give him was the ability to pick out very fine details, and as his sketch started coming together, he found that was exactly what he wanted to do now. While Crowley's hair was a vibrant red in his selfies or on stage, when he'd had the opportunity to run his fingers through every strand, he'd found that Crowley's hair was showing his age just as much as his own was.

The first day Aziraphale had found a grey hair had come as a shock. He'd naively assumed that with his hair being as pale as it was, even if it started greying, he might well never know. Instead, he found that the grey hairs' texture was frustratingly different from the strands that were still blond, and until they reached a critical mass fifteen long years later, they had an unfortunate tendency to stick out unattractively if his cut was anything less than perfect. He had become quite a regular at his barber's.

With Crowley's hair being as long as it was, his grey hairs had worked smoothly into his braid. From even the small distance from couch to armchair, they melded into the red strands perfectly... but Aziraphale had just spent long minutes twining them into neat twists and didn't need to see them now to know they were there. Aziraphale zoomed in close (another marked benefit of the digital display) and set his pen to a thin, sharp line, layering sleek silver strands into the red braid he'd drawn. Following the way they weaved around each other and dipped in and out of view felt delightfully meditative.

Eventually, Crowley made a soft snuffling snort-groan as he roused from his nap, slowly turning to unbury his face from the pillows. "Wha' time'zit?" he mumbled, patting around blindly for his cellphone.

"Coming up on 5:30 now," Aziraphale replied softly, trying not to startle him into full wakefulness too quickly. He rose and fetched Crowley's phone, placing it gently into his fumbling hand. "There you go."

"Mmrrr. Don't need it now." Crowley tucked the phone under his side in what Aziraphale would have guessed would be a very uncomfortable fashion but which Crowley did without even thinking. At least it wouldn't be going anywhere from there, Aziraphale supposed. "What're you doin'?" Crowley made grabby hands at the iPad Aziraphale had brought over with him.

Aziraphale handed over the iPad without even one thought, much less a second. "Oh, I was just waiting for you to wake up, really."

"...Angel." Crowley had zoomed out on the picture (with a completely unsurprising lack of propriety) and was now staring, frozen and much more awake, at the drawing of himself. "You aren't going to post this on Tumblr, are you?"

Aziraphale laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that, despite the ripple of shock Crowley's tense tone had caused him. "Come, now. When have I ever posted a drawing of you, my dear?"

"When have you ever made a drawing of me?" Crowley retorted. He waved vaguely at the screen, accidentally sparing Aziraphale from having to answer. "I don't mind being old, but I don't want the world knowing my boyfriend thinks I'm old." His frazzled waving turned a little more flaily.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale gently took the tablet back from him and set it down on the floor so he could take Crowley's hand in both of his. "I assure you, I'm not the kind of artist who spends my time drawing things I don't think are beautiful. And that includes every detail I put in."

Aziraphale would have hoped that was obvious, really. The strands of hair he had drawn weren't brittle grey; they were molten silver. They caught the light like a precious metal woven like a ribbon into cinnabar-red hair. Crowley could have been a queen, fallen asleep after a long day in her finery. He could have been a fae whose very essence was beauty, sleeping with no fear that it would be stolen away because it couldn't.

He could have been an ordinary man, who was so deeply, truly loved that even his grey hairs seemed to shine like the soft gleam of a newly-forged star when they caught the last strong beams of afternoon sunlight shining in through the windows.

Aziraphale hoped Crowley could see it, too.

Crowley made a grumpy noise. "I still don't want it on Tumblr. — Not that I can tell you what to do with your art, but—"

Aziraphale interrupted him with a warm smile. "I don't want it on Tumblr, either. I drew this just for me."

"...really? Even though...?"

"Just for me," Aziraphale whispered in confirmation, his eyes seeking out Crowley's and saving him from having to finish that sentence. "I've only ever drawn you for me." I love you to the point of creation, his heart sang. It wasn't quite how that quote went, he knew. It was the only way it had ever gone, for him.

"Hn..." Crowley shifted to look at the iPad where it lay down on the floor. "I suppose... Well. Despite the subject matter, you drew it well, at least."

"Well, thank you for that," Aziraphale jibed back lightly, completely devoid of malice.

"Ngh, you can't blame me for feeling self-conscious about my greys when you haven't got any."

Aziraphale let out a huff of a laugh. "Oh, Crowley."

"What?" Crowley looked defensive, then abruptly switched to looking shrewd. "Wait. Do you dye them??" He leaned forward eagerly, like this was taboo knowledge.

"Oh, where was that compliment two decades ago? No, not at all. Do you know how long I spent getting over feeling self-conscious about them, and now for you to not even realize I have them?"

"No way. You've been holding out on me!" Crowley's eyes had a light in them that Aziraphale had seen sometimes — the look of someone who has been wanting something very much and thinks he's just figured out how to get it. Aziraphale drew back instinctively in trepidation. He had no idea what Crowley could possibly be wanting, though a fluttering feeling in his chest suggested that it was, in some way, him.

Ridiculous. As if they hadn't had sex already.

"I'm going to go get dinner started."

Crowley let out a whine that cut off abruptly enough that Aziraphale suspected he actually hadn't intended to make it.

Aziraphale paused. "What?"

"Ehhh... just envious, s'all."

Aziraphale took a moment to muse about whether Crowley knew the difference between "envious" and "jealous" and decided, firmly, that he had faith that he did. "Of what?" he asked with an incredulous laugh, since he still had no idea what "envious" could possibly apply to here.

"Negghhh, you've gotten to play with my hair enough to know I have greys, and I haven't gotten to touch yours once."

Aziraphale blushed darkly at that, remembering some choice occasions in which Crowley had gripped his hair tightly enough to hurt. He cleared his throat and opted not to mention them. "That feels much more like your fault than mine."

"Just... tryin'a respect your boundaries, angel."

"Why would that be a boundary?" Aziraphale asked, baffled.

"I asked for it and you haven't."

Aziraphale didn't quite remember it that way, but it was a fair enough interpretation from Crowley's point of view, he supposed. "Well, no. It sounds perfectly nice, but I'd hate to bore you with it. I know you're much more fidgety than I am."

"Not bored," Crowley insisted, his eyes urgent. "Never bored when it's you, angel. Siddown."

Aziraphale laughed breathily. "Too late. I'm already up to cook dinner."

"Angel."

"You'll just have to wait," Aziraphale teased in a singsong lilt, casting a smile back at Crowley over his shoulder.

Crowley flung himself back on the couch with an impatient whine, leaving Aziraphale feeling very smug about his attempt at whatever the romantic equivalent of foreplay was. Crowley sounded very much like he was being left with blue balls. "Bastard."

"Only as much as you deserve, my dear," Aziraphale sang back as he went into the kitchen, acutely aware of Crowley's eyes following every step.

—

It wasn't really in question, at all, that Aziraphale would end the evening snuggled on the couch with Crowley's hands in his hair. There was also no question that he'd enjoy it thoroughly, and he also knew it wasn't the kind of thing that was likely to lead to anything more. So, instead, he just relaxed into it and let his thoughts drift.

"...do you really think I'd mind if my red fox turned into a silver fox?" he mused. The thought was languid, easy, relaxed. Crowley spluttered in incoherent surprise anyway, and Aziraphale laughed softly. "Yes, I know. There's a reason I'm not the writer of the pair."

"Y'are, though. Don't think I've forgotten that you are."

Aziraphale blushed a little at that. "Oh."

Crowley's hands resumed their meditative motion through Aziraphale's hair. "But... yeah. I'd rock it, wouldn't I?"

"You would," Aziraphale murmured with a smile. "And I'm quite looking forward to seeing it someday, my dear."

#good omens #ineffable husbands #bnf au #fanfiction of fanfiction #my writing #not actually about asexuality but let's be honest that hair-petting scene was my kind of ace #apologies for any misrepresentation about watercolors #seriously bilvy come get your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems out of my head #and be aware that if you leave time between posting future chapters then i might have to write more and nobody wants that

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sixosix · 10 months

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BUT THEY ALL LEAD BACK TO YOU | S. HEIZOU

he said, “it’s a shame, then, that it’s against my ideals to commit a crime.” you couldn’t think too hard about what he said because he distracted you quickly with a kiss, even forgetting your name for a moment.

tags implied…Ahem yk, getting together, heizou is pining BAD but so are u (carnally now too ig), sweet sweet fluff

a/n 2700 words, holy shit this was longer than i planned T__T

previous part

"why does this shikanoin heizou want to meet me that badly? how does he even know me?"

kazuha smiles lightly, content with watching you make a mess of your temporary room like a cyclone. “i’m not so certain. heizou has a habit of prying into the lives of people he hears mentioned. i was reminiscing about the day i met you while catching up with him, and he insisted i introduce him before i could talk about anyone else.”

seriously, who does that?

kazuha had mentioned shikanoin heizou before, as with his other close friends. you were listening but not paying attention enough to have him as your surprise not-in-a-romantic-way-date like a pop quiz. it was as though you didn’t have enough time to prepare for heizou’s inevitable “what time and date did i meet kaedehara kazuha and what’s the name of my distant cousin?” but that’s not the case right now, which means what else could doushin shikanoin want from you? a good first impression and a far-from-suspicious job, obviously.

“there’s nothing about me—my hair’s a mess, why didn’t you tell me?— that could possibly warrant a tenryou commission detective’s interest in that way.”

you pick an unruly strand of hair off, then belatedly realize that walking outside would lead to more of them, and there is no point in doing so. you’re deeply stressed.

“clearly he disagrees,” your friend says in return, amused. you do not share his delight, back to pacing across and around your room.

“kazuha,” you groan, “he’s your friend, isn’t he? can’t you just ask what he wants from me? get this over with.” you abhor first introductions. can’t kazuha just tell you if you should ship your ass back to liyue right this instant?

“are you truly this nervous?”

“he’s a detective, kazuha. and no one can know what i do for a living—yelan will kick me out!”

“you don’t have to worry too much. he bears no ill intentions towards you. if he did,” kazuha pauses to meet your eyes intently, turning serious, “i wouldn’t have offered to introduce you to him in the first place.”

you throw your hands in the air, exasperated.

that answers absolutely nothing and only brings more questions. what does he want from you if not your occupation? surely a detective with a renowned reputation such as himself taking an interest in you means that he wants you to spill truths you’ve sworn to lie about.

maybe it’s not too late to ask if beidou wants a trip back home at this very moment.

“y/n,” kazuha says, with a hint of a fond smile, “let fate take the lead for today. you’ll find that it’s nothing like you’re agonizing over.”

your first memory of inazuma city is when kazuha was hauled away by a few people and left you stranded in the crowd, the same one who had seen you tailing kazuha like a lost puppy—the same one who treated your friend as something sort of a celebrity because of his famous block.

in the few days you’ve been wandering around here, you’ve learned that people everywhere, no matter the region, are always too curious. and somehow prepared to bargain for information.

you’re breezing through everyone in hopes they can sense you don’t want to talk with any of them at the moment. the last time you were lenient, new rumors sprung in the air the first few hours you arrived at inazuma, saying that you’re their ticket to meeting kaedahara kazuha himself.

you’d been deeply affronted. you’re not a scammer; even you’re incapable of tying kazuha to one place, much less holding a meet-and-greet for his fans.

“sorry, sorry, hey—wait up! you!” someone calls out from behind, sounding oddly familiar.

irritation spikes.

“i don’t know who kaedehara kazuha is, sorry,” you say, speeding past stalls and apologizing in advance for people who swerve out of your way.

but this person is determined, somehow swift enough to seize your wrist. there was a second where you forgot where you were for a moment and jerked your arm back in favor of a very, very violent self-defense— even so, this person’s grip was surprisingly strong.

he smiles when you meet his eyes. “i was looking for you, actually.”

there is no mistaking it. his face had been hard to tell in dim lighting, but even then, you could make out the soft features and the distinct twin moles illuminated by blue.

you couldn’t confuse him for someone else even if you tried. the moment you stared a little too long when he was being dragged away, you set it upon yourself for today—as if he was never unfamiliar.

“i know you,” you say, “you’re the drunk guy.”

and then it hits you harder than yelan’s kick on a good day.

this is the same guy kazuha said is a tenryou commission detective—their best one, people say, renowned for his commendable skills and intuition. you were expecting someone older, taller, who fit that description, and definitely, someone who didn’t look like…this.

“yes, that’s me,” he grins brightly. “hi.”

seeing him up close on a bright, sunny day was not the best idea. only here can you see the startlingly compelling shade of green on his eyes and the softness of his burgundy hair. only here can you realize that this man is exactly your type.

“hello,” you say pleasantly and hope you aren’t gaping.

shikanoin heizou looks around, taking in the number of people passing by. he looks back at you, and leans in close to whisper, “let’s go somewhere else.”

you follow him into a food stall, with only one person on the far edge eating. you take a seat on the two chairs laid out on the far right with him. this is starting to feel less like an interrogation and more like something you’re not willing to get into at the moment.

heizou leans against the wooden counter, announcing his order. he suggests food for you upon seeing the conflict on your face.

“you’re from liyue, right? you live in liyue?” is the first thing heizou asks, his arm still resting on the counter with his chin on his palm.

he looks enticing in the gold glow of the lanterns on both sides of the stall. you let your eyes stray, pretending you’re entranced by the ramen and not his arms. “i’m not here on any official business. i’m just here because kazuha begged me to accompany him to inazuma.”

“from what i heard, you jumped at the boat the moment kazuha offered inazuma for you.”

your brow twitches, caught. “details, details.”

the distinct scents of different foods sold in other stalls along with this fills your senses. your stomach rumbles, a gentle reminder. an embarrassing one, at that.

heizou smiles, and it’s almost sweet if you weren’t so suspicious. “my treat.”

“...shikanoin-san,” you begin, “is there a reason why you were so adamant about meeting me?”

his gaze drifts then, ears darkening. “do you remember that night we met? i dragged myself to work the next day, head pounding, my desk a mess from stumbling around it the night before. my mind was elsewhere. my peers ushered me when they caught me snea—ahem, doing patrols.”

“did they belittle you once again or something?”

“i’m pleased you still remember that.” your face burns, intently staring at the ramen the stall owner is preparing. “they told me all about how i was blabbing their ears off about someone. someone i insisted must be a youkai with how uncharacteristically enamored i was. they told me i kept asking to get myself drunk again to trace myself back to you—and i almost considered it sober.”

“that’s stupid,” you say, pretending you aren’t flustered by this.

“isn’t it?” he doesn’t look embarrassed at all. “but then i saw kazuha. we caught up, and he told me about this friend who is a stranger in inazuma; my intuition honed in on your name the moment he mentioned it.”

“and what do you know—” heizou glances at you, “—my intuition still hasn’t failed me.”

this could’ve been the moment you realized that shikanoin heizou is a dangerous, dangerous man, but really, it was on that night when he had been an ungraceful mess, letting you pin him against the tree with a gleam in his eye.

finally, food is served, and you don’t have to answer that. you can only hope that heizou won’t hone in your face the same way, and you can excuse the steam of the ramen as the culprit of its heat.

“so,” heizou begins, and you dread how it’s going, “you come here often?”

you hide a laugh. “you shouldn’t be so curious about me, for your own sake.”

“why? are you hiding something?”

he is no threat at all, you realize. you’re almost desperate, because whatever is happening right now is far from your expertise. with a glimpse of honesty: “i have no obligation to give you information about myself or my field of work. if i spill anything, the commission will never hear from you again.”

“is that so?” he looks excited.

shikanoin heizou is strange. so why are you fighting off a smile?

is it also so strange you realize his body is completely facing you? he speaks again, “well, i heard from kaedehara about a case here in inazuma that i would’ve been thrilled solving, and you were the one to bring it to a close before anyone else caught wind of it. before i caught wind of it.”

you remember that. it was practically nothing. the bandits were just unfortunate enough to do their crimes in front of your face, trained and armed for these very moments.

but where is he going with this? “i have committed no crimes myself, detective.”

“that’s not what i said,” heizou grins, resting his chin on the center of his palm. “i just want to say i appreciate you for helping in your own way. even if that meant we had to deal with interrogating dazed, thoroughly beaten-up nobushi. i want you to tell me about what went down in excruciating detail some other time.”

“you’re welcome. are you going to arrest me for interfering?”

he hums. “why do you want me to arrest you so much? want my handcuffs on you that badly?”

you’re glad you’ve already swallowed the noodles before he opened his mouth. “that’s not what i mean and you know it.”

heizou giggles, the bastard. “cute,” he murmurs as he sips on his drink, smiling to himself.

are you the one with alcohol in your system this time? because the tension is suffocating and you want him bad. “you’re too forward, shikanoin-san.”

“heizou,” he corrects. “and what’s the point in beating around the bush? we both know what i want at the end of the day. you think i meet you again and i’ll let you slip from my fingers again?”

it’s hard not to want the same. it’s itching under your fingertips, begging to be closer, to feel his laugh against your skin. “let’s pray kazuha doesn’t find out.”

“what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” or makes things extremely awkward for him.

that night is also the same night you last see shikanoin heizou for a while. you told him about how you were leaving the next day, and getting attached would be a bad idea.

he had been hovering over you when he said, “it’s a shame, then, that it’s against my ideals to commit a crime.” you couldn’t think too hard about what he said because he distracted you quickly with a kiss, even forgetting your name for a moment.

with inazuma added to your to-do list for next year (ASAP!!! written beside it), you and the crux sail back to liyue. you were already starting to miss it, but homesickness washed over soon enough at the sight of the familiar wharf. people wave at you, saying they missed you, asking if you enjoyed your vacation.

“hey, you.”

you don’t have to look to know who it is. “yelan.” you crane your neck. “i haven’t seen you since i got back.”

“there wasn’t much you missed out on; i was dead to the world,” yelan says with a cunning smile, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “how was your trip? had fun? bring home anything good?”

you smile to yourself, “i had fun.”

“oh,” yelan smirks. “i see. what did they call it? summer fling.”

“no, nothing like that.”

she flicks your forehead. “you’re still a lousy liar as ever.”

the days pass, and it’s almost easy to forget you even went to inazuma. everything falls back into place, as routine dictated—if it weren’t for the way you keep thinking about bare sides, olive eyes, and unending playful banter.

although you weren’t slacking off, it was easy to tell that your mind was far away when you walked past couples whispering to themselves, tucked into some dark corner.

“hey, y/n! kazuha is calling for you in the wharf.”

“coming! hold on!”

the crux fleet’s grand ship looms over other boats. curiously, you note that the crew has only begun to disembark. beidou waves at you when she spots you, and you wave back with a wide smile.

she gestures at the side. you follow her gaze.

if you didn’t know who he was, you’d think—with the way he walks around and smiles at curious onlookers as if he knows them personally—that he belongs here. but you do, you do know him, madly so. he’s been in your mind for far too much that you convinced yourself he’s just a fragment of your imagination until he catches sight of you and brightens.

“y/n!” he says, enthusiastically making his way towards you.

“heizou…?” you let him tackle you into a hug, too stunned to do anything else. “wait, heizou!?” you pull away, cupping his cheeks in your palms. “what are you doing here… in—in liyue? who…”

heizou sighs, looking away despite all the confidence he’s bragged about. his face is very, very red. “it’s a long story.”

kazuha appears behind him, startling the both of you bad enough to have you freezing in sync. “he jumped at the boat the moment i offered. it was starting to get disheartening seeing the longing looks.”

he definitely knows something between you two went down.

“thanks again, kazuha, i owe you one!”

“two, heizou.”

“two,” heizou amends. “you’re the best.”

kazuha quirks a brow, amused. “flattery won’t make me lessen it, doushin shikanoin.”

“dammit,” heizou curses, smiling when you laugh.

“i’ll leave you two to it,” kazuha says, and despite all this, he looks genuinely happy. maybe because he’s rubbing on your face that he’s right—this was far from what you were agonizing over.

“ah, so you work for…the ministry of civil affairs.” heizou definitely doesn’t believe this, and he doesn’t even bother trying to hide it on his face. “the youngest, too, i heard on the way here. very good with a sword.”

“don’t underestimate me,” you instinctively say. deep inside, you’re pleased with the way your friends are giving him a good impression of you. “i do more than issue bounties on wanted criminals.”

“i knew that. though most of them don’t need to carry around a weapon as sharp as that.” you try not to react too strongly, but based on the way heizou smiles, you know that he can see straight through you. damn intuition or whatever. “and you don’t have to explain to me, i’m not underestimating you. i’m the youngest in the commission, too, you see?”

“oh…” you do remember him repeatedly mentioning how extraordinary and young he is.

“look at that,” he coos, his arms snaking around your waist, “we have so much in common already. what are you gonna do about it? shikanoin heizou, in the flesh, all for you.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “is that all you think about?”

“you’re all i think about.”

you learn that it’s difficult to keep heizou’s hands away from you.

( “do you like him?”

“huh? who? shikanoin heizou? he’s annoying. the flowers in chinju forest are taller than him.”

kazuha looks thoughtful. “are they?”

“yes. they were taller than me, too, but that’s not the point.”

“and so was the answer to my question,” kazuha says, “you didn’t outright say no.”

your face burns, caught.

kazuha grins. “i’m glad to have someone accompany my every visit to inazuma from now on.” )

a/n thank u for reading!!!!! i feel like i didn't do heizou enough justice </3 but i wasn't expecting the first part to get attention at all so thank u to the people who commented and reblogged <333

#606:GENSHIN #genshin impact x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #heizou x reader #heizou fluff #heizou x you #genshin impact x you #shikanoin heizou x you #genshin x reader #heizou fanfiction #shikanoin heizou fanfiction

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whenrainhitsmyskin · 1 year

Text

Dancing is a Dangerous Game

pairing: bakugo katsuki/reader

summary: reader and bakugo have been reluctant frenemies since their school days back at ua, their relationship consists of constant bickering and insults. what happens when they are forced into close proximity at their friend’s wedding?

4k+ words.

warnings: must be 18+ to read and interact, fem bodied reader, graphic smut, multiple orgasms, oral fem receiving, vanilla sex, orgasm delay, hickeys, manhandling, reader gets picked up, very tame insults, slight fluff, frenemies to lovers.

- canon-verse, characters are aged up to mid-twenties.

You hear the song change from afar. The smooth melody is just loud enough to reach your ears in a faint whisper. You spot some flowers that match the ones in the bouquet you are carrying in your right hand while you are wandering the grounds.

You hear a call for your name. You sigh out of annoyance, all you wanted was a little break from all the socializing, was that really too much to ask for?

Bakugo comes into your sight once you turn around. You blame the chill that suddenly attacks your skin on the breeze that catches on your long silk dress.

“Bride’s been askin’ for ya.” You roll your eyes, he scratches the back of his head, “Said she’s called but ya never picked up.”

“Yeah, I left my phone on the table inside, why the hell did she send you?” You say, taking in his appearance, a fancy black suit that matches the rest of the groomsmen, and a boutineer on his chest that’s the same as the flowers in the garden you were looking at moments ago.

He looks good just as much as he makes you angry. An unfortunate balance, caused by the cruel way the world works.

“No need to be a bitch on our best friend's wedding day y/n.” He grinds his teeth and holds his arm out for you to latch onto, you shoot him a quizzical look, “The grounds uneven and you suck at walking in heels, either this or you fall on your face, both are fine by me.”

You guess there was a little more bite to your words than you meant based on his response.

You reluctantly grab on, similarly to how you both walked down the aisle. Your line of work rarely calls for dressing up, you can’t remember the last time you wore heels.

He leads you back to the area the reception is hosted, a botanical garden that’s closed in panes of glass and an abundance of twinkling lights spread throughout.

He lets go of your arm once you reach the edge of the dance floor where Mina is talking to her wedding coordinator and photographer. You set the flowers on a nearby table.

“y/n it’s about time you got here!” She squeals and embraces you, which you give into.

“Sorry, I just needed a little breather, what’s up?” You glance and Bakugo is near the rest of the groomsmen, seemingly gathering them up.

“I want the wedding party to dance to the next song all together with their pairings in the ceremony. Aiko gave me the idea and I think it would be so cute for pictures!” She says, talking with her hands enthusiastically.

Just as she finishes the last part you meet a pair of red eyes staring back at you, “So I’m dancing with Bakugo?” You ask.

“Precisely! Now go get the girls together!” She says as she prances off to go find the groom.

You think over the idea, the last thing you would ever want to subject yourself to is dancing with your least favorite person from your graduating class, but you wouldn’t dare disappoint your best friend on her big day.

You gather the rest of the bridal party, which mostly consists of other girls from class A and a couple of her closest cousins and friends from primary school.

Everyone goes and finds the groomsman that they walked down the aisle with, you reluctantly turn to find yours when you slam into a hard chest and nearly lose your footing. Somehow you don’t fall on your ass.

Oh.

His large hands are on your waist holding you up from your near demise and his face is beat red as he’s looking down at you.

The weight of his hands are oddly comforting and that thought makes you want to vomit in one of the glasses the waitress is passing by you with.

“Let’s just get this over with alright?” He says gruffly with a sour look on his face.

The song changes once more as he forcefully grabs your wrist and pulls you onto the dance floor, he maneuvers one of your hands to his shoulder and grabs the other one with his own. He begins moving along to the rhythm of the song.

Bakugo feels heat spread down his neck and up to his ears and his palm is sweating against your own, there’s a knot in his stomach that he so badly wants to believe is because of how much he loathes you.

He’s actually got some fancy feet for someone who is dangerously careless in the field. Each step is calculated, avoiding yours while still maintaining seemingly practiced movements. Another thing about him that just has to be perfect.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” You complain, looking at all the other happy pairs dancing with one another, why couldn’t you have ended up with Denki or Sero? You would have gladly taken one of them over Bakugo. It’s almost like Mina and Kirishima wanted you to be miserable, or they wanted to provide you an opportunity.

“How’s come? It’s a wedding, people dance at these kinda things ya’know?” He says with annoyance.

“Because Bakugo,” you say, you hear him swallow, “dancing is a dangerous game.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, barring his vicious front canines, “I bet you’re having fun then, you seem to like a little danger, don’t you?”

His statement has you floored, and your jaw slightly dropped as you give him a questioning look. You are unable to tell if he’s reciprocating not only the hatred you have for him but the infatuation as well.

He removes the hand on your waist in favor of closing your mouth shut. “Would hate to ruin the photos.”

He turns both of your heads towards the photographer, you both shoot reluctant smiles until she moves onto other members of the party.

His hand returns to your waist and you continue dancing. A hot flush comes over you and you think you start to feel feverish. Other guests start to join in during the next song and that’s your cue to finally depart from him.

He watches you walk away from him like you always have over the years. Just barely out of reach, leaving him with an empty pit in his heart.

You desperately need to find a familiar face that you don’t hate and that’s when you spot Denki unsuccessfully flirting with one of Minas old school friends, you drag him away by the collar of his blazer to the most opposite side where you abandoned Bakugo, trying to put as much distance between you and the longing feeling you have for him apart.

“Hey man what was that for?!” Denki pouts, “Oh shut it Sparky, I’m doing her and myself a favor.” You smile. He begins leading you into a borderline ballroom dance.

“C’mon I thought I was finally getting through to her. Hey what about your dancing buddy, guessing it didn’t last long before you two started verbally abusing each other?” He chuckles.

“Yeah, something like that.” You say, “Wanted to dance with someone I can actually tolerate.”

The rest of the night you fall into easy conversation with friends and those you haven’t gotten a chance to catch up with in a while.

After the newly wed sendoff you head back into the botanical garden to help take stuff down that the venue themselves didn’t provide.

After your job is done you grab your clutch and head outside to get an Uber back to the hotel that was booked out for all their guests.

You hear the crunching of gravel under footsteps walking towards you and when you hear them come up right behind you, your phone is snatched away.

“Hey what the hell?” You yell at whoever has taken it from you, Bakugo comes up in front of you, looks at your screen and powers off your phone, “I was booking a ride back, hand it over Bakugo.”

You attempt to grab it back, but he just holds it high out of your reach, just how you have always been to him.

“I’m not letting some stranger drive you this late at night.” He says as he starts walking away, “C’mon I drove.”

“Who the hell do you think you are bossing me around?” You say tailing after him. All he does is shoot you a glare over his shoulder.

He loves you chasing after him. All fiery and ready to bicker. It’s quite the contrast to past experiences where all you both want to do is get away from one another.

You finally reach his car, and he opens the passenger door. “Get in y/n.”

He sounds dangerous, it’s making you hot and bothered in all the wrong ways.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, now please give me my phone back.” You plead, you’re shocked you allowed those words to come out of your mouth but you’re tired and can’t stand to be around him any longer.

He’s equally as shocked and realizes he likes hearing you beg for something from him. So all he gives you is a shake of his head, wanting more of this. However, you’re uninterested in playing his game, it’s too late to be arguing like this tonight.

“Fine.” You say, you shove past him and slide into the passenger seat. He shuts the door behind you, and you put on your seat belt. You’ve never seen the inside of his car, so you take a look at these new surroundings.

It’s all smooth black leather and interior, with a really nice dashboard. It’s just so Bakugo. He joins you inside and starts the engine.

“How much have you had to drink?” You ask, not willing to put yourself in more danger than it is getting inside a car with a stranger.

“None, don’t drink.” He says, putting the car in reverse, “And you?”

“One, before the reception started.” You answer, although you don’t know why he would need to ask that, maybe this is his pathetic attempt at making small talk with you for the first time.

It’s completely silent besides the low rumbling of the car engine. The stillness of this moment is driving you insane. Maybe it’s time to let in.

“The wedding was…nice?” God you are so bad at this. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and has your knee bouncing up and down.

“Yeah, it was good, I’m happy for them.” He says, indicating left, heading into the turn lane and stopping at the light.

“Me too.” You smile, “It’s weird seeing some of our friends get married, it feels like we just graduated.”

He grunts in acknowledgement and glances down to your knee.

“Stop doin’ that shit it’s distractin’ me.” He commands pushing just above your knee with his hand, so your foot stays planted on the floor. The light flashes green and he turns left.

“Sorry.” You say, looking out the window. It’s been a few seconds and you realize he hasn’t made a move to remove his hand. It feels like it’s burning through your dress and melting into your skin. It’s violent, much like your feelings for him.

A few beats pass and you realize his hand hasn’t moved from your leg. You turn your gaze from the window and towards him. You catch him sneaking a glance down where his hand meets your dress.

Signals are firing throughout your nervous system. Your skin produces a sheen layer of sweat, and your hands tighten around your clutch. You close your eyes and attempt to regulate your breath.

After what feels like hours of semi-uncomfortable silence, he pulls into the valet drop off. He takes his hand off of you and opens the car door, you follow suit. He hands his key over to one of the employees and starts walking to the tall fancy doors.

He opens it for you and follows closely behind. You head towards the elevator and press the button. You are so close to sleeping you can almost taste it.

The doors open and you both file in. Just another confined, small space Bakugo seems to take so much up of, just like your thoughts, which are running rampant right now.

Why did he care about your safety tonight when he never has? Why were his palms sweating so much while you were dancing when he learned to control that ages ago? Why did he leave his hand on your leg? And why the hell did you like any of this?

He presses the button to the 32nd floor and the elevator doors close. You can’t stand your own thoughts so you do the only thing you can think of to get rid of them and that is to voice them.

“Why did you keep your hand on my leg?” You ask with a shaky voice. The break of silence nearly startles him.

“Cause you would stop bouncin’ it.” He says.

“Didn’t need to keep it there.” You sigh, “Would have stopped if you just asked.” He hums and looks down at his shoes.

“Was it deliberate?”

“So what if it was y/n.”

“Then I would’ve liked it.” Those words are what force him to snap his head towards you. He sees you are looking back at him expectantly, willing for him to give in.

His brain feels like mush. He can’t tell what you’re trying to play right now, but he’s really hoping you finally want what he has been waiting for all this time.

“Dancing really is a dangerous game.” He mirrors your words from earlier that night, before the tension built up between the two of you.

“I guess I’ve always liked a little danger.” You answer his question from earlier. He sports another smirk on his face and steps over to you and grabs your face in his hands, “It’s a good thing you’re danger personified.”

“Yeah, you can’t get enough of it can you.” He traces your jaw with his thumbs, he glances down at your lips for a beat and back into your eyes, “Always coming back for more, after all these years.”

“Yeah, keeps things interesting.” You say, and that’s when he finally closes the gap between you. His lips are all consuming, you hold onto his blazer to bring you closer to him.

The elevator chimes and the door opens, and the two of you pull apart. He abruptly grabs your wrist and pulls you out. He’s walking with haste, unlike early when he was dragging you to the dance floor.

He stops at what you assume is the door to his hotel room, he fumbles to get his key card out of his wallet, he finally retrieves it and unlocks the door. You follow in behind him and the door closes shut behind you.

He says your name and puts his arms above your head, caging you against the door, pressing your spine uncomfortably into the wood.

“You drive me fucking insane.” He sighs, he closes his eyes and presses his forehead against your own. You use this newfound closeness to study his features. He’s so gorgeous you can hardly believe he’s real. All sharp features and cutting edges, sculpted by God himself.

“Bakugo, I want you.” You breathe out the truth, “More than our games, I want you more than I hate you.”

His eyes open once more. Searching your own to find any hint of doubt. He can’t see any, just your eyes clouded by possible arousal.

He gives your lips a light peck, and immediately pulls away and leaves you wanting more.

“y/n.” Your name, a statement, “You’re mine now, ya got that.” He lets out a heavy sigh.

“Fucking finally.” You say, putting your arms around his neck and kissing him. It’s purposeful and slow, clouding your mind with so much desire for him it fucking hurts.

There’s something so intentional with the way he’s kissing you right now, each movement has its own meaning, pouring all the feelings towards you that have built up over the years you two have known one another.

God, he doesn’t even remember what it felt like to breathe before kissing you. He cups your face with his hands in an attempt to stabilize himself. His heading is getting clouded with arousal, causing his crotch to press into your stomach, hoping for any pressure to hold him over.

You push his blazer off his shoulders, craving to map out the plains of his body with your fingertips, you dig your nails into the hard muscle of his back when he bites your lip and that’s when things start to get violent, just how it’s always been between the two of you.

Abruptly he grabs you by your thighs and holds you against the door to the hotel room, pining you with his hips. You forgot how fucking strong he is. All hard muscle and honey smooth skin, you wanna taste every inch of him.

You move your hands from his chest and into his hair, it’s so incredibly soft. He grinds his hips into yours causing you to pull at the locks and let out a soft whine.

His mouth changes focus from your lips to your neck, assaulting it with every kiss, lick, nip and bite. You can feel him assaulting a spot on your neck thag you just know is going to bruise. God he is such a fucking tease you can’t tell if you want him to keep it up or slap him for not fucking you already. He finally pulls away, breathing heavily and a sincere look on his face, he says your name.

“Need ya to tell me what you want.” He says, “Don’t wanna take this too far.”

You would laugh if you didn’t know he was being dead serious. But instead, you give him a soft smile and a kiss to his cheek, causing him to redden.

“Katsuki, I want you to fuck me.” You say. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before responding.

“M’gonna fuck you so hard you see stars y/n.” And with that he kisses you and walks you deeper into the room before setting you down.

You begin to take the tie off of his neck and start working on the buttons to his crisp white shirt. Taut muscle and hard abs are revealed to your ogling eyes.

“You’re so fucking hot, how is this even fair?” You say, running your hands up and down his torso.

“Look who’s talkin’ princess.” He smirks at you, you turn around and bring your hair over to your shoulder, he grabs onto the zipper of your dress and pulls it down.

With every inch of you that’s revealed has him drooling like a dog, the lace of your panties finally comes into view, and he feels like he may faint. The fabric drops to the floor, and you turn around, and that’s when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra.

“God you are so fucking pretty.” He says, he goes back to kissing you and starts running his hands from your hips and up your body, replacing your clothes with his touch. He cups the undersides of your breasts and gives a light squeeze; your soft skin is pliant under the pressure.

His touch lights your whole body on fire, flamed by his ember and ignites something feral inside of you. You want him so bad it hurts.

He guides you back to the bed and your head hits the pillows, his arms are resting above your head, his biceps caging you in. He pulls away from your lips and begins kissing down your body.

A trail of his saliva now leads from your neck and down to the waistline of your panties.

“These are cute.” He says, pulling at the waist band, causing it to snap down to your hip. He begins peeling them off your body. Once they are completely off of you, he runs his thumb up and down your slit, then begins drawing light circles on your clit, “God you’re so wet f’me baby.”

“Fuck-fuck Katsuki, it all for you, all yours.” You whine. Your hips are twitching, and your breathing is heavy even though he has hardly done anything, you think he may have already ruined you.

After a few more moments the light touches aren’t enough and it begins to feel like torture, “Need-need more, fuck, want you tongue.”

“C’mon princess, if you wanna get what ya want I need to hear ya beg for it.” He smirks, stopping his ministrations completely.

“Fuck that.” You whine. Oh my god you might actually strangle him, you have never begged him for anything and have never planned on it, but the aching between your legs hurts so bad you don’t know how much more of this you can take before finishing yourself off instead.

“I’ll keep going baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to your clit, “All you have to do is ask.” And that’s when you start to think he’s a fucking sadist and he’s officially broken you.

“Fuck-please Katsuki, need you so bad.” You beg, “Want you just fuck-want your tongue and your hands, please.”

“There ya go princess, that’s more like it.” He says before diving into your slit. His tongue attacks your clit in the most gruesome way, it has your hips jolting off the bed and his calloused hands moving to hold them down.

Broken moans leave your throat, how are you already this close when he’s barely done anything at all?

He inserts two fingers into you. They go in with hardly any resistance considering how wet you are. He does something with his tongue that you know took him some practice and it has you crying out for him.

“Fuck, Katsuki gonna come.” You say, feeling the white-hot pleasure build up inside of you. But it slowly fades out when he pulls away from you, “What-no, why’d you stop?”

He comes up and kisses you, “Don’t want you cummin till’ it’s on my cock.”

He stands up and starts unbuckling his belt and takes it through the loops, then he takes his dress pants and briefs off all-in-one go, seemingly in a hurry to get back to you.

He joins you back on the bed after fishing a condom out of his wallet, tearing it open and sliding it on his leaking cock. He hovers over you and plants a sweet kiss on your forehead and another on your cheek.

He rubs his cock up and down your slit, “You okay princess?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good, want you.” You say. The sweetness of your tone pulls at his heart strings, along with the corners of his mouth.

“I’m right here.” He responds and begins slowly sheathing his cock inside of you. You both whisper curses.

“Katsuki your so big-fuck.” You say, digging crescent shapes into his shoulders with your nails, he hisses in pain.

“I know baby, I know-just breathe alright?” He coos softly, kissing your hairline and waiting for you to adjust to the stretch for a few moments.

“I’m good, I’m ready.” You say to him.

“Okay, I’ll start slow for ya.” And he keeps his promise. He slowly begins to pull out until just the head of his cock is left and slowly pushes back in.

He continues this until it starts to become pleasurable for you, your breathy moans and whines his sign. So he begins to fuck into you harder, and just a little faster.

He brings one of your legs around his shoulder to get as deep as possible and pulls back slightly so he can put a hand between your bodies to rub your clit.

The sounds you are making are practically music to his ears and are slightly inflating his ego. He kisses you so he can get closer to them.

After a few more hard thrusts, hot white pleasure begins building up inside of you, you pull away from the kiss.

“K-Katsuki m’close, so close don’t stop.” You say, throwing your head back.

“C’mon princess, I know you want it, know you wanna come.” He continues his pace and quickens the movements on your clit and he has you cumming seconds later. And you think it may be the most intense orgasm of your life when he starts thrusting faster, riding out your release.

“I know you have another one in ya babe, c’mon just one more.” He says, the brutal pace never ceases, and moments later you're cumming for a second time consecutively, but this time with him.

Fuck your pussy is absolutely milking his cock dry. He bites your shoulder to keep him from moaning too loud, in favor of your neighbors.

The room smells of sweat and sex, evidence of what just unfolded between the two of you, taking your mind out of its post-orgasmic trance.

You draw little designs on his back with the tips of your fingers while he comes down from his high, eventually he moves from the place between your shoulder and neck.

“You alright princess?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m good, really good.” You smile, “And you?”

“Never better.” His expression mirrors yours.

The rest of the night consists of cleaning each other up, soft kisses, brief touches and him walking you down the hallway to your respective hotel room. He kisses you good night and says he will see you in the morning for brunch.

You step out of the elevator and into the hotel lobby for brunch with Mina, Kirishima, the wedding party and their close family. You find the table where the wedding party has been seated and Bakugo intercepts you before you can reach it.

“Good morning.” You say. You can’t remember the last time you greeted him without something offensive coming before it, all familiarity long on.

“Good morning.” He says back, and you see an actual smile on his face, not a smirk or one he sports when he comes up with a good insult at you, but a soft one, just barely pulling at the corner of his lips.

You walk the rest of the way towards the table together and pull a seat out, gesturing for you to sit and moving it towards the table just before you are seated. He takes a seat right next to you.

After you are done ordering your breakfast, you spot Mina and Kirishima at another table looking at you and Bakugo, sporting knowing looks on their faces.

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#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #smut #bnha smut #katsukibakugou #bnha #katsuki bakugo fanfiction #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo fluff

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itaehynz · 6 days

Text

three’s a (choi) charm! ˙ ⋆ . ˚ ☆

08. DO THEY KNOW?

warnings: written and socmed. (written under cut!)

2:50 A.M.

you have your airpods in, keeping all sound stored in your ears, away from the quietness of your shared home hoping to wake absolutely no one. your phone begins vibrating lowly, vibrations slightly awakening your senses.

incoming facetime call: yeonjun (tinder boy #3)

you gasp softly, getting up and walking out of your room quietly hoping not to wake yunjin.

you walk into the living room with quiet steps, seating yourself on the couch and answering the phone.

“helloooo,” yeonjun says shyly. you smile at his quiet yet warm voice, saying hi back.

“why are you so quiet?” he asks, raising his brow in curiosity. “why aren’t you?” you ask, he shrugs, flipping the camera over to who you’re assuming is his roommate, who’s on his pc playing whatever game.

“he doesn’t mind me being loud so,” he adds, smiling at you. you nod and hum at his response, silence filling the air. he clicks his tongue, “date with beomgyu tomorrow, correct?”

you roll your eyes playfully, already knowing what he’s getting at. “yes yeonjun, why?” he chuckles softly, shrugging his shoulders once more. “just curious, i would be the last person to know,” you scoff, “i personally think you’d be one of the first to know, actually.”

he laughs at your response, “why do you think that?” he asks, genuinely curious. you shrug, “well for one; he’s your cousin. two, you live together and three, oh this one is my favorite, you’re apparently competing for me? how’s that?” you respond, eyebrows furrowed.

he laughs once again, shaking his head at your words, “fair enough but all jokes aside, i did know, i just wanted to see what you’d say.” he smiles, blinking slowly. you roll your eyes at him and smile softly.

“you’re so stupid,” you say, making him laugh louder. you laugh along with him, his laugh being oddly contagious and comforting. “ah, really? would i be stupid for saying it’d be better for you to go out with me instead of gyu?” he questions cockily.

your eyes widen in surprise, caught slightly off guard. “i mean, it wouldn’t be stupid but it would be pretty rude of me to just bail on beomgyu after all this planning he’s done,” you reply, frowning at the thought of beomgyu’s reaction once he realizes you bailed on him for his cousin.

“y/n, i promise you, he literally wouldn’t mind, he’d be shocked that i was able to even persuade you and probably try harder next time, if he even gets a next time.” yeonjun says, exaggerating his words. you take his words into consideration, thinking hard on his suggestion.

“okay, what would we do though? like as a date,” you ask, intrigued. he seems to think on it for a few before coming to a decision, “there’s this place i go to, they offer couples dance lessons sooo if you’re interested, i can set an appointment for you and me? for 11 am tomorrow?” he asks with a large smile plastered on his face.

you scoff and smile, “we’re not a couple though,” he rolls his eyes, “not yet at least.” he says, making your smile widen. “look, i could schedule it and if you’re not up for it by 9:30 am, i’ll cancel it and you can go on your date with beomgyu, i guess. how’s that?” he suggests with the same smile that’s been on his face since the beginning.

you laugh quietly, “no need, i’d be happy to go. i just need to figure out how to tell beomgyu somehow…” to that, he rolls his eyes at the mention of his cousins name. “don’t tell him, we can do a hard launch kind of thing and tag each other on our posts, with a picture.”

you smile, shaking your head at him. “sounds good,” you say before getting up and walking to the bathroom. you sit your phone upright, hoping it stays. once it’s positioned correctly, you turn on the water, starting your skincare routine as yeonjun watches you in awe.

“are you getting ready for bed?” he asks softly, still looking at you. you nod, cleaning all product out of your eyes. he hums, eyes still locked on you. once your eyes are able to open, you catch him staring, “what’re you looking at?” you ask as he smiles.

“i’m obviously looking at you, y/n. you’re so pretty,” he says, catching you off guard once again. you feel your cheeks rising to a burning heat, but you continue to apply your skin serum with a gentle smile.

slowly but surely, your skincare routine is coming to an end. you wash your face with warm water and dry it thoroughly. you look away from your phone for a moment and look back to see yeonjun no longer surrounded by light, he’s now in the dark and laying down.

you begin turning off all lights and walking back into your room but not before shushing yeonjun. he nods and smiles, watching as you quietly step into your room and lay down in your bed, resting comfortably under the covers.

“do you wanna sleep on the phone? i’m not implying anything but i’m just asking,” he whispers. you only nod to that as you plug your charger into your phone. he smiles at you softly once again and you roll your eyes once more, “what’re you smiling at now?” you whisper.

he chuckles lowly, “it’ll always be you i’m smiling at, y/n.” you hide your smile and only show your eyes. his laugh increases in volume, never seeming to die down anytime soon.

you quickly snap a facetime photo of him, catching him off guard. “wait let me sit up and turn this light on, then you can retake it.” he says, reaching for his bedside light.

he lays back down and hides himself under his covers, showing nothing but his eyes. “mmkay, take it like this,” he says, smiling with his eyes. you smile gently as you take the picture. “i’m gonna go to sleep,” you say, eyes filled with tiredness. he hums and says, “me too, night night y/n!”

“night night, jun.”

—

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A/N: “little beomgyu and y/n moment before their date 🤭” YOU’VE ALL BEEN PRANKED!!!!!i’m such a silly goofy goober 😁

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probably-writing-x · 8 months

Text

Doomed (Part Two)

Nobody had told you about how terrifying pregnancy scans were. You were now twelve weeks pregnant, and you and Conrad had booked in to see a doctor not far from Cousins, but far enough that there wasn’t a risk of seeing anybody you knew.

You’d made an excuse to Belly that you’d be going out to get your car serviced, and Conrad had said that he was going surfing. The pair of you waited until you were around the corner, out of view from the house, and he clambered into the passenger seat. The drive was in relative silence, neither of you knowing a single word that would be right to say.

You drive the way to the hospital, park up outside, check in at the reception. And the two of you sit in seats beside each other, both staring out at the rest of the room in front of you. Conrad picks up a pamphlet on ‘the early stages of pregnancy’ and then sets it down, picking up another one entitled ‘pregnancy progress’. You look away, the sight of the baby on the front making you feel like your entire stomach had just flipped.

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” A young woman approaches from one of the doors and you stand up, your eyes focused ahead of you as Conrad tucks the leaflet into his back pocket.

You’re both led into a room decorated in white. There’s a bed in the middle, covered in blue paper sheets, a monitor just beside it and a million wires that you’re certain have uses you’ll never know. There’s a doctor sat with her back to you, turning around with a warm smile at the sound of you entering.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” She beams, “It’s good to meet you. I’m Doctor Miller.”

She stands and extends a hand to you, shaking your hand in hers.

“And you must be-“

“Conrad,” He completes, shaking her hand too.

“Alright, please, come and take a seat,” She encourages, “(Y/N) if you’d like to hop onto the bed for me, and we’ll get your tests out of the way so that we can get started on your scan. Conrad, there’s a seat for you just beside the bed.”

Both of you do as asked and the doctor and her assistant run you through the routine checks. Every single thing they pick up seems to be met with worried expressions from Conrad, watching each of their movements as if he’s terrified of what they’ll do next.

“Okay, Mom and Dad, are we happy to get started with your ultrasound?”

You glance over to Conrad, something seeming to shift between you at the sound of those names. You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, suddenly aware of how nervous your entire body felt, how your ears were ringing, your eyes oddly blurry.

They move around you and brush an ice cold gel over your stomach, shifting around until they press the moving machine over the skin. You don’t look at the screen, your ears still ringing, eyes still blurry.

And then you hear it.

A beating. Soft, rhythmic, gentle. It’s muffled and strangely perfect and the ringing in your ears comes to a halt.

“Oh my god,” Conrad leans forward in his chair, eyes glazing over at the sight on screen.

You turn your head, breath catching at the sight. Amongst the blurry, greying space, you make out the shape of a tiny head, tiny body, tiny arms.

“And that right there, is your baby,” Doctor Miller speaks calmly, “Everything looks happy and healthy.”

“Oh my god,” Conrad speaks again and your head turns towards him.

His eyes fall to you and he smiles softly, his hand reaching out and squeezing yours, both of his palms cupping around your hand. You smile, tears brimming at your eyes and he presses a kiss to your fingers between his grasp.

“That’s a baby,” He mumbles, eyes not once leaving yours.

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “And everything’s okay? I mean, it’s like… it’s healthy and like the size it should be and-“

“You have nothing to be worried about.”

You feel the weight on your chest ease a little, melding into the way Conrad holds so tightly onto your hand, both of you entranced by the screen in front of you, the beating echoing in your ears.

——Ten Weeks Earlier——

Getting ready for a funeral was an awful thought, really. You’d slipped into a dress, fixed your hair, done your lightest makeup, made yourself look presentable and you were driving over. Part of you was certain that you were in no place to drive. Your hands were trembling already, your head foggy and purely unclear. Every few seconds, another one of them flashed into your mind. Jeremiah saying goodbye to his Mom, Laurel saying goodbye to her best friend, Belly and Steven saying goodbye to someone that had treated them like her own, and… Conrad.

The entire morning feels like a blur until you arrive, and then it seems to all melt into one as if it’s impossible for you to truly accept what was happening. You were certain that you hadn’t gone a day without crying since you’d split up with Conrad, and today would be no different.

When you get there, Laurel’s car is already parked in front of the church and you park beside her, fixing your hair in the mirror once more before letting out a shaky breath, getting out to walk through towards the entrance.

There’s a weight on your chest that hasn’t shifted, but it seems to worsen at the sight in front of you - rows of solemn faces and shoulders hanging low. There’s a seat beside Belly in the second row and you make your way over.

“Hey,” She smiles softly when she sees you, “I was looking for you, I thought you’d come with Conrad.”

“Um,” You drag a hand through your hair, blinking the tears from your eyes, “I just-“

“Oh hello, honey,” Laurel interjects, reaching over Belly so that she can squeeze your hand, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” You reply, thankful for the distraction from Belly’s query.

As if on cue, the boys start to walk down the middle aisle, having said their welcomes to everyone on the way. Jeremiah stops at the sight of the group of you, smiling and squeezing your shoulder as if he needed the smallest reassurance. Conrad walks directly in front, taking his seat in front of you. His shoulders look heavy and his hair has been cut since you last saw him. Every morsel of your being wants to reach out to him and wrap your arms around him, tell him you loved him, that you were here for him.

But you sit back in your chair, letting out a shaky breath.

—

The wake, somehow, felt worse than the service. Everyone was mingling around you, the Conklins, the Fisher boys, as if they were waiting for you all to break. You still hadn’t spoken a word to Conrad, certain more than ever that he didn’t want to speak to you.

“Hey,” It’s Steven beside you as you fill up a glass of water at the sink.

There was a sickness in your stomach that hadn’t subsided all day.

“I haven’t had a chance to speak to you today,” He says, “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” You nod, “It’s just horrible, you know?”

“So, I’m going to ask,” He turns around, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody else was around, “When were you going to tell us that you and Conrad split up?”

“I don’t-“

“Come on (Y/n), you two have barely looked at each other all day. What’s going on?” Steven frowns just a little, his face softening.

“We, um, we split up a couple of weeks ago,” You explain, glancing over to where Conrad stood on the other end of the room, “Just… not what he needed right now.”

“You’re not what he needed?” Steven scoffs, “(Y/n) you’re always what he needs.”

You shrug your shoulders, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I thought so too.”

Steven reaches out and squeezes your shoulder, his eyes offering as much sympathy as they can.

“I’m sorry I just need to-“ You shake your head, trying to stop yourself from crying, “I’ll be back in a second.”

You shuffle your way through the crowd and head upstairs, finding the bathroom and locking the door behind you. You sit down onto the toilet and lean forward, pressing the heels of your hands against your closed eyes to stop every emotion that wanted to escape you. It wasn’t just today, or Susannah, or Conrad or everyone else or anything… there was one thing tugging at the back of your mind that you hadn’t been able to forget all day. You were late. By just over a week, actually. And you were never late.

You take your bag from your shoulder and pull out the small cardboard box you’d bought with you - the most accurate pregnancy test the store could offer you. And, in that moment, it’s like you’ve already got the result.

—

For a moment you wonder how other people react when they find out they’re pregnant. Is it fear at first? And then all together an overwhelming sense of joy? Are there tears? Do they plan out their future in that tiny moment of excitement?

Yours didn’t feel like that. But your entire body felt numb, weak. Your shoulders dropped over your torso and you hadn’t stood up just yet, certain that your legs would give out if you tried.

A baby.

You look down at your stomach, unchanged from its normal shape, and yet capable of changing everything about your life in a matter of months.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door and you flinch, glancing up quickly. As if in panic mode, you stuff the test into your bag, check your appearance in the mirror, scan the room for no signs of evidence and then turn around to unbolt the door and step out.

It’s Conrad on the other side.

“(Y/n)…” His voice breaks over the word, his eyes looking to you as if desperate to reach out.

Your vision blurs, ringing in your ears, heart pounding, “I-“

For a second there’s a glimpse of hope in his eyes, as if your voice was like a breath of fresh air to him.

“I have to go.”

——Now——

When you get home, Conrad goes in ahead of you, holding open the door and glancing back at you as if checking on you at every opportunity.

“Hey…” Belly frowns a little, pausing on the stairs on her way down, confused at the sight, “You guys okay?”

“Yeah,” You say softly, “Conrad was walking back as I drove around so I picked him up.”

She looks between the two of you and nods a little slowly.

“Come on Belly, we don’t have to hate each other,” Conrad interjects, clearing his throat, “We’re fine.”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Belly responds, “Well, we’re having a family dinner tonight so you both need to be there for that.”

“I’ve got too much to get done Be-“ Conrad begins.

“No you don’t. We’ve spoken to Julia, we’ve spoken to your Dad, we’re sorting things,” Belly shakes her head, “No excuses.”

His shoulders drop a little and he rolls his eyes, “Okay.”

Belly grins and disappears around the corner towards the back of the house. Conrad turns to you and you can feel his eyes on you, watching you.

“Do you feel okay?” He asks, a frown between his brows.

You offer him a small smile, “No different, really. I haven’t been sick anymore this past week or so, so I’m hoping that’s all done.”

He hums in agreement, “Okay but I mean all things considered are you-“

“Um, Im going to go lie down for a while,” You cut in, running a hand through your hair.

You hurry yourself up the stairs towards your room, closing the door behind you.

There were certain times in the past months since you’d known you were pregnant where it felt like everything came crashing down onto you. You had moments where you thought you were so capable of doing it all, and other times where it felt near impossible to even begin. How could you raise a child? You didn’t know where to start. You couldn’t even fathom the idea of giving birth, bringing a whole new life into the world and holding it in your arms knowing it was your responsibility - half of you and half of him. Part of you was relieved that Conrad was the father. All things considered, you were lucky to have him. But you didn’t have him, did you? He wasn’t yours. He was here because of the baby. Without you telling him you were pregnant, you and Conrad would barely be speaking right now.

You let your head hit the pillow of your bed and close your eyes, for a moment imagining your life beyond the safety blanket of your pregnancy. Pregnancy, for now, was delaying the responsibility of taking care of this child - a task you were yet to convince yourself that you were capable of.

You wrap your arms around your stomach and let yourself fall asleep, thankful that you don’t have to worry about it all as soon as your eyes are shut.

—

You wake up a couple of hours later and can already hear the clanging downstairs of them preparing for dinner tonight. You stop yourself momentarily in the way you’d learnt how to do in the past few weeks - stop before you get up, make sure you don’t need to be sick.

But that’s passed now. This was you going into the second trimester, this was everything becoming real.

Your clothing choices are limited when nobody knew that you were pregnant, and so you opt for a flowy dress that came down to your thighs, floating around your curves. You put on a light cover of makeup to make yourself feel more awake and pull your hair back into a messy bun, pieces falling around either side of your face. You double check in the mirror in your room, nothing was visible.

Deep breath, and you go downstairs.

There’s already the bustling sound of the group of them getting things ready in the kitchen, and you walk through into expected chaos.

“No Steven don’t take that I need that for the-“ Belly groans, taking a pan from his hands, her other hand holding a bowl.

“I need it! You told me you want me to fry these, how do you want me to fry without the good pan?” Steven returns, sweat forming on his brow.

“Steven there’s another pan in the cupboard, but I need you to do the salad before you do that,” Jeremiah interjects, pulling out a lettuce and tomatoes and setting them down onto the counter.

“Salad’s a shit job I do-“ Steven stops himself, “Hey (Y/n).”

“Hey,” You let out a laugh, “How’s it going?”

“Terribly,” Belly lets out a sigh, turning around to you with stressed eyes.

“Is this a ‘you need my help’ situation or a ‘too many cooks’ situation?” You ask, “I can help if you need me to.”

“Set the table?” Belly suggests, “I think Steven will scream if another person gets in his way.”

“Oh because I’m the dramatic one,” Steven rolls his eyes, “Belly it’s you that-“

You let their argument drown out behind you as you pick up the placemats and cutlery from the counter, carrying them through to the dining room to set it all out. You lay it out in your best version of how Susannah would want it, cutlery lined neatly next to clean mats. It feels empty, however, bare without any sort of homely touch.

You go through to the lounge and crouch down to rummage through one of the cupboards, looking for any kind of decorations that would still be lying around the place.

“What are you looking for?” It’s Conrad that speaks from behind you, dropping himself down onto the couch.

You glance back over your shoulder, “That candle thing that Susannah used to use to decorate the table.”

He smiles a little, looking down “Cupboard on your right, and there’s that weird centrepiece thing too.”

“Perfect!” You grin, following his instructions until you find what you were looking for, turning around with them in your hands.

“You know I knocked that candle over once, caught fire to the tablecloth,” Conrad smirks, “God, my dad hated me that day.”

You set the items down onto the coffee table and walk over to him, sitting down on the space on the couch beside him.

“How are yo-“

“Please don’t ask me how I’m feeling,” You smile gently.

Conrad smiles too, a blush creeping onto his cheeks, “Sorry.”

You sit in silence for a second, looking down at your belly in this dress, “I’m okay.”

He nods, “Felt like you were kind of spooked earlier.”

You let out a breathy laugh, “Aren’t you?”

Conrad thinks for a second and then shakes his head, “I thought I would be. But there was just something about it. Seeing them, hearing them, it felt so real.”

You soften at the sound of him talking, like he’s injecting the same reassurance into you.

“That’s a whole baby, and one day it’ll be a whole life and it’ll be ours,” Conrad leans forward in his seat, taking a deep breath that he releases slowly, “And I really think we can do it (Y/n).”

You place your hands over your stomach, smoothing over the material of your dress, “You sound so sure.”

“I am sure.”

He looks down at your stomach and then back up to your eyes. You take one of your hands away from the slight bump and guide it over to his, leading him to rest his hand beside yours. His fingers stretch around the curve, soft under your touch. When you glance up again, there are tears in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be sure if I didn’t know that we could do this (Y/n), that you could do this,” He assures you, “But you make everything seem possible, this is no different.”

You smile, squeezing his hand underneath yours.

“I wanted to ask you,” Conrad shifts in his seat a little, as if preparing himself for something, “Do you-“

“Dinner’s ready!” Jeremiah yells from the kitchen and both of you flinch away from each other.

Conrad looks at you as if desperate to continue.

“Dinner’s ready,” You repeat, standing up and grabbing the centrepieces from the coffee table, carrying them through.

Conrad drops back against the couch, dragging a hand through his hair, letting out a breath. He stands up and follows after you, that anxious tightness held in his chest.

—

Dinner is a success, mostly. Steven had undercooked the veg and Jeremiah had slightly over cooked the chicken, and Belly hadn’t given enough time for the cheesecake to set how she wanted. But it was nice. Conrad was sat on the seat furthest from you, because everyone was still walking on eggshells about the two of you having to be together now they knew you were split up. He glanced at you every so often but you tried to ignore it as much as you could, distracting yourself with whatever conversation the others were having.

Conrad had been relatively quiet but he chimed in when he needed to, not drawing much attention to himself.

When the two of you were together, you’d see him like that and want to reach out for him, hold his hand under the table, your arm over the back of his chair so that you could draw patterns across his shoulders or brush your thumb over the short hairs at the base of neck. You knew when he needed to talk and when he didn’t want to, you knew all of the lines with him, you were the only one who did. And, as you see him now, you know that instinct hasn’t disappeared. You’d always have it. For him.

“Let me clear up,” You offer, “You cooked it all.”

You stand up and start collecting together the last of the plates left over after dessert and Steven stands up too.

“Yeah, you guys can talk about house stuff or whatever,” He brushes off, collecting up the rest of them and following after you.

The two of you walk into the mess of the kitchen and you start loading the empty dishwasher.

“So, I’m going to ask,” Steven starts, crouching down in front of the dishwasher so that you can hand things over to him.

“We’re fine,” You say softly, glancing over to the door as if reaching for Conrad’s reassurance.

Steven laughs a little, “You’re fine? You went from broken up and not talking to each other to absolutely fine?”

You shrug your shoulders, handing him a few more plates, “I don’t know, things change.”

“So you’re getting back together?” Steven raises his brows, “Because it would make things easier if you did, he’s so grumpy without you, it’s so much worse. Did you hear him when we got here?! He’d have never said that if he wasn’t single and he-“

“Steven!” You laugh, interjecting before he persists.

His features soften and he smiles at you, “I’m serious, do you seriously think that’s it with you?”

You take a deep breath and feel that same nausea churn through you momentarily, letting the breath out shakily, “I don’t think that’ll ever be it with me and Conrad,” You speak so quietly you’re not even sure he’d hear you.

Steven goes to speak again but you’re interrupted, a knock at the open door. You both look over to see Conrad stood in the doorway, his hands stuffing into his pockets as if he was nervous.

“Can I talk to you for a second (Y/n)?”

You glance at Steven and he grins widely, winking at you before taking the pot from your grasp.

You wipe your hands on the nearest kitchen towel and wring them out, walking over to Conrad as he steps aside to let you past.

“I thought we could go outside,” He says quietly, walking ahead of you towards the door that led out to the garden.

You glance back over your shoulder and then back to him, following him through the door he’s holding open for you.

It’s a just falling to complete darkness outside and there’s the slightest chill in the still air as the two of you walk down towards the dock.

Within a second, a million memories come flooding back to you.

———Eleven Months Earlier———

“Conrad I’m serious I’m not taking you to the hospital if you break a bone,” You laugh, drawing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around your legs.

He turns around in the water to face you, kicking himself forward towards the ladder, pulling himself back onto the dock.

It was a hundred degrees out, and Conrad had spent all morning convincing you to jump off from the dock and go swimming with him. It was rocky and uneven underneath and, on at least three occasions, you were adamant he was close to seriously injuring himself. You were sat on the bench watching him, a book he’d given you perched at your side.

Conrad gets out of the water and flicks his hair back, spraying you with water in the process.

“You’re going to boil sat in this heat,” He points out, “It’s much more fun in the water.”

“What’s gotten into you today?” You laugh, “It’s like Conrad on crack.”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not allowed to enjoy myself?”

You shake your head, “No you’re meant to be grumpy and forlorn and melancholy and cold hearted an-“

Within an instant, he scoops you up into his arms and throws you over his shoulder. You grip onto his damp skin instantly, squealing at the motion of him holding you beside him. He steps forward, teetering on the edge of the dock, somehow still so sturdy with you in his grasp. And… he jumps.

The two of you plunge into the water crashing under the surface. His grasp on you releases and you push off, swimming under the water until you break the surface, squinting at the sudden sun. You drag your hair away from your face and pinch a hand over your eyes to get rid of the water.

Conrad laughs from beside you, kicking around to face you again.

“Fuck, that really hurt,” You fake a wince, trying your best to offer any look of pain on your face.

“Oh shut up you’re just-“

“No I’m serious Con, I caught my ankle on something and it’s really hurting,” You grimace, fighting back a smile.

“Shit, are you serious?” He swims over to you quickly, treading water in front of you, “Can you move it?” His eyes scan your face with a furrow of worry between his brows.

Your face breaks into a smile and you giggle, watching his features relax.

“You’re the worst,” He splashes water towards you.

You laugh and splash him back until the two of you break into a full fight. He grabs your waist and pulls you into him before you get the chance to escape, you catching yourself on your hand against his chest.

For a moment, the two of you are breathless and laughing. And then the air seems to shift, and there’s something so unspoken held in the minimal space between you.

You see his eyes flick down to your lips and back up to your eyes, alternating with your own eyes doing the same. He swallows the lump in his throat. You know now that you want nothing to ruin this moment, that you wanted to conceal it. His grip on your waist tightens a little more and he seems a little more sure of himself, leaning in until his lips are nearly on yours. You seal the rest of the space, both of you inhaling sharply at the sudden contact. One of his hands moves from your waist and up to your jaw, thumb gripped around your chin to draw you impossibly closer to him, so confident now that your lips were on his.

You melt into every atom of his touch, desperate for more of him. When he pulls away, his hands remain exactly as they had been, like he wants to hold onto you for a moment longer.

And that’s how he’d been ever since, forever wanting to hold onto you.

———Now———

“Please don’t throw me into the water this time,” You say to break the odd silent tension between the two of you.

Conrad chuckles deeply, “No promises.”

Both of you fall silent again. He drags a hand through his hair, wipes his hands on his jeans, scratches the back of his neck.

“Okay so why did you bring me out here?”

He looks at you as if the words have just caught in his throat, unsure if any of them will come back to him.

“I just-“ He lets out a breath, somewhere close to a laugh like he’s mocking himself, “God I don’t know where to start.”

He grips the railing of the dock in front of him, as if grounding himself.

“When I-“ Another breath, shakier this time, “I want you to know that I never meant it. When I told you that in my dorm, when I made you feel like you had to leave, I never meant it. Not a single word.”

You’re lost for words now.

“I’m not sure who-“ He shakes his head, tears building in his eyes, “I’m not sure who I am now that my Mom’s gone… it’s like I’m supposed to be somebody and I don’t know who that is and I don’t know why and let alone how to do it. And, that day, that couple of weeks I wasn’t anybody.”

You bite at your cheek, fighting back every emotion that his words were bringing back.

“I took that out on you. I convinced myself in that stupid part of my brain that, if I couldn’t be somebody, then I couldn’t be anybody for you,” He stumbles over his words a little at the mention of ‘you’, “I was so sure that I’d lose you, I convinced myself it would be easier to just push you away. And that’s exactly what I did. And every single day, every night, every fucking minute since you left that day, I’ve hated myself for it.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“When you came to college that day I just convinced myself that this was some sort of second chance, that I might have a chance at fixing the biggest fuck up I’ve ever made,” Conrad says, turning around so that he’s facing you directly, “I know I don’t deserve it but I just need to tell you at least once that I lo-“

You lean up onto the tips of your toes and press a kiss to his lips, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself against him. Conrad’s hands fly to your waist instantly, one against your back to draw you into him.

You step away, feeling the all too familiar hold of his hands around you, “I love you too.”

#conrad #conrad x reader #conrad x you #conrad x y/n #conrad imagine #conrad one shot #conrad drabble #conrad blurb #conrad series #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp imagine #tsitp one shot #tsitp drabble #tsitp blurb #tsitp series

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dreamlandcreations · 9 months

Text

Chapter 1 - Lost in Time

King!Alfie Solomons x archaeologist!Reader

Summary: You are stuck in the past after you interfered with the events of history and missed your window to return home…

Warnings: injury, tension of all kinds, a tiny bit of reader description (of having long hair) and more of an implied description by supposed relation (you'll get what I mean or see the tags for spoilers), a long Tommy-Alfie interaction (yes, that's a warning), tenses might be messed up

Series masterlist • Next chapter

Oddly, the first thing you are aware of isn't the pain but the presence of someone else in the room with you. It is as if he can sense you waking up, his own eyes open from the light sleep he was lulled into as your own flatter open and widen in fright at the sight of him.

You gasp in pain as you try to sit up to put some distance between you, as if you could run away from this colossal screwup and pretend it never happened. You do not get far though, he reaches for you and helps you sit up.

"Careful, little dove," the king murmurs. His hands still under your bent knees and behind your back where he supported you to be able to move without tearing at the stitched-up wound.

It is as if time stopped, you are both frozen, just gazing at each other with fascination and disbelief.

He moves first, and with a featherlight caress, he brushes along your cheek with the back of his hand and it reminds you how he was holding you in his arms after you've been stabbed. Your thoughts only wander away for a second or two, then his palm envelops your nape and he leans closer, slowly, giving you time to pull away.

Your breathing gets erratic just as your heartbeat, which you can hear drumming in your ears. His lips barely brush against yours but the touch sets you on fire and it seems he feels the same way because you both move to pull the other closer.

He deepens the kiss, tangling his fingers into your period-typically long hair as you grab onto his shirt to keep him close. It's desperate and wild and you quickly get lightheaded so you have to pull away but you can tell he would chase after you if it wasn't for the doors bursting open with a shattering thud against the wall.

Two loud men enter the room, talking at the same time.

"I'm sorry, my lord. He wouldn't listen..."

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?!"

You flinch at the sudden yell of "Shut up!" coming from the king beside you, who still hasn't moved away. He sighs heavily and with a last longing glance at you, he turns to the intruders.

"Ollie," he addresses the younger man, "be a good boy and leave us." It looked like the boy wanted to argue, but he quickly shut his mouth in response to the stern look he received from the king.

"Oh, and tell the doctor she is awake." The king yells over at him as an afterthought.

Ollie exits in a hurry, shutting the door behind him, leaving you alone with King Solomons and the man you recognized as the recently crowned Thomas Shelby from the neighbouring kingdom.

"Tommy!" the king grumbles his name as a warning and a question.

"I came here to see how my cousin feels," he nods in your direction, "and to give her this."

Your eyes widen at the sight of your watch and Tommy doesn't hesitate to approach you after you silently asked for it by reaching out with both hands. You grab it as soon as it's close enough but he doesn't let it go, forcing you to look up at him and meet his gaze as he nods meaningfully, trying to let you know that he is well aware of what the object is and who or more likely what are you. When he gets a subtle nod as a reply, he lets it go.

While your thoughts run wild, you examine the watch and try to figure out how to avoid causing more damage. But the two kings start to argue over you.

"Your cousin?"

"Yes, Lady Gray is Polly's daughter." Came the calm answer to the accusative question.

"Polly's daughter? The one who died years ago after she and little Michael were kidnapped to be raised by the enemy so they can use them against you. That daughter?" King Solomons asked, with every word dripping a ridiculous amount of mocking scepticism.

"Yes, Alfie, that is exactly what I'm saying." He crosses his arms over his chest with a disapproving expression as he goes on. "Now, if you could behave like a proper royal and put some distance between you and the lady, that would be much appreciated."

Alfie huffs but doesn't argue with the request and moves to sit back in the chair beside your bed while Tommy takes a seat on the edge of the bed, putting himself between the two of you.

The following conversation between them is like watching an intense game play out, with all the quick back-and-forth of questions and answers as Alfie tries to catch Tommy with a lie.

"I precisely remember you telling me that she was dead. Would you care to explain this miraculous resurrection?"

"I thought she was dead. We only found her recently. And I did not want to subject her to the court, yours or mine, until she had a chance to settle down into the new circumstances."

"In that case, what was she doing here, on a ball among so many people?"

"She wanted to come with me. It was a masquerade ball, she could have remained unnoticed through the whole night..." For the first time, Tommy hesitates and you think he might have difficulty coming up with the rest of the answer but you realise it was very much deliberate as he continues. "I don't know what happened."

But you don't have time to fully calm down because his convincing performance put the attention directly back on you.

"Well, why don't we ask our little lady?" Alfie inquires as he turns to you, still not convinced but asking with the ulterior motive of finally hearing you speak.

They both look at you expectantly and for a moment you can't find your voice.

"I didn't mean to cause any trouble." The little panic in your tone is absolutely real, as you fear you might screw this up even more.

Alfie takes your hand in his, assuring you with a soothing tone that "It's alright, dove. You are not in trouble. Just tell us."

And you are pretty sure he means to tell him the truth about everything but you decide to go with your instinct and play the innocent girl card while actually trying not to lie. You had a feeling you couldn't deceive him, even if you wanted to.

You look at Tommy as you start. "I know I should have kept my distance but I just couldn't help it. After all the stories I've heard, I couldn't help my curiosity getting the better of me."

Alfie immediately asks "What stories?" but you just shrug, pretending to be shy and look away, hoping he would let that go and he does.

"And the man with the blade?" He interrogates you further, with his playful demeanour gone but you know his well-hidden anger is not directed at you.

"He was acting strangely," you say with a frown as you try to remember exactly what happened. "He bumped into me but didn't stop or even look my way. His attention was entirely aimed at you, in a very unsettling way and... I don't know... I didn't even realise what I was doing until I felt the pain and..." you are breathing hard as you relive the incident and you don't know what else to say so you look at Tommy but it seems he has nothing else to add.

Alfie just nods and you think that was it but he finds another hole in the story Tommy started.

"A man called after you from the crowd but he disappeared since then."

Thankfully Tommy replies for you. "He was there to protect her and when he failed, he came to find me. It just took time to get through your people."

'"Really?" Alfie's tone indicated doubt, in that mocking way of his that you were starting to get used to. "And why was he calling her another name? Isn't she supposed to be Anna?"

You can't help but smile at that. He was clever, not saying the name, your real name, and expecting Tommy to fail this test but you intervene, quickly turning back their gaze to you from their stare-down, saying your name like you are asking Alife to confirm what he heard. He silently nods with narrowed eyes but his harsh look quickly melts as you smile at him and simply state, "It's my middle name."

Tommy sighs, feigning annoyance at what you suspect to be relief, acting like he had had enough of the game and asks, "Are done with the interrogation?"

"For now," Alfie concludes just as the doctor arrives.

You are examined again, thankfully in private but by the time he is done all your energy leaves you and you are fighting to stay awake. With the doctor done and reporting to the two kings, you had a minute to think.

You need to find out what Tommy knew and you even ask for him but he sees how exhausted you are so he assures you that there will be time to talk later.

"Rest," he commands as he squeezes your hand in reassurance, "I will be here in the morning, I promise."

With that, you close your eyes and sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.

#alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x you #alternate universe #timetravel au #king!alfie solomons #archaeologist!reader #shelby!reader #but not really #my stuff #my fics

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robininthelabyrinth · 2 years

Note

Mini prompt: Jin Zixuan always wanted younger siblings so he's (not so secretly) thrilled when Meng Yao is legitimized.

“We’ve always had large families, historically,” Jin Zixuan said enthusiastically to Jin Guangyao, who smiled politely. “The Jin, I mean – especially the main line. It’s practically traditional! I’ve always been terribly jealous.”

Jin Guangyao made a sympathetic noise. It seemed like that was what Jin Zixuan wanted, and sure enough, the other man kept carrying on and on about how much he’d always wanted to have siblings.

(It was getting hard to keep from rolling his eyes.)

“It’s the one thing my mother and I never saw eye to eye on,” Jin Zixuan said, his tone confiding. “She always thought she was doing me a favor, you know, keeping everyone else back. She claimed she was trying to protect my inheritance, keep me safe, protect me. Which is all well and good, I suppose, but all I really wanted was to have the siblings everyone else had had…I genuinely think it would have been better for me, really.”

Jin Guangyao felt the smallest scrap of pity for Madame Jin for being burdened with such an utter idiot for a son, though the scrap promptly disappeared when he recalled how odious the lady of the house was.

“We’ll be able to do so much together!”

“I look forward to it,” Jin Guangyao lied politely.

He wondered if Jin Zixuan had ever bothered to rub two braincells together long enough to actually realize that his mother had been right – that the second there was another legitimized son of the Jin sect, that son would invariably get thoughts about getting the whole thing for themselves. Even Jin Guangyao, burdened with his mother’s shame, his war conduct, his forcing his way into the family, his wrong-generation name, had some thoughts about how nice it would be to really get the real benefit of his patrimony, rather than just the leftovers. To be the one standing at the very top of the stairs, rather than the bottom or off to the side…

“ – not that I blame her, of course.” Jin Zixuan was talking about his mother again. It was pretty obvious he really did blame her, no matter what a good filial son ought to do. “But it really is just – you know? Part of the family. Everyone had siblings, even many siblings! My great-grandfather had brothers, my grandfather, my father…every one of them.”

Jin Guangyao nodded along absently, then frowned as something wrong wiggled into his awareness.

“Your father had siblings?” he asked. That didn’t seem right – he’d memorized the higher ups in Lanling Jin ages ago, back when he’d been part of the Nie sect, and he’d doubled down on it recently. Other than the existence of Jin Zixun, a so-called cousin of oddly vague origin, he didn’t know of any of Jin Guangshan’s siblings. “Do I know them?”

“Oh, I doubt it,” Jin Zixuan said dismissively. “Father had them murdered as soon as he became sect leader, of course.”

“…of course,” Jin Guangyao said faintly.

“It was his right as the winner. It’s Lanling Jin rules: winner takes all,” Jin Zixuan explained, then reached out and patted Jin Guangyao on the back, seemingly not noticing the sinking feeling in Jin Guangyao’s stomach, which was hopefully not being shown too obviously on his face. “I’m really looking forward to finally having someone to compete with, you know? May the best man be the last one standing!”

This, Jin Guangyao reflected, was going to take some reevaluation.

#mdzs #jin zixuan #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #alt headcanons

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cyandreamsinwords · 2 months

Text

Cut and Run — Pt 4 (BoaWT AU)

Again, none of this is cannon to the main fic, I just like to self indulge. (3.4k)

Link to the main fic here

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

"They're still looking for you," Remus said in a hushed voice, so he wouldn't disturb Lyra. I'd become a sensitive topic around her, the even mildest mention of Sirius leaving. She didn't understand what was going on, not in its full context, but she did know that the threat of them being separated again was real.

"I would assume as much, consider the accusations against me," Sirus said loftily. "I am a suspected mass murderer, after all."

“And kidnapper, don’t forget that bit.”

Sirius scoffed. “It’s not kidnapping, she’s my child.”

“They don’t see it that way. Oddly enough, it’s that cousin of yours leading the charge on getting her back out of your hands.”

“Who, Andromeda?”

“No, Narcissa. She’s been pulling a number of strings her and Lucius have to try and put emphasis on getting Lyra back during this manhunt. She's all over the papers, doing interviews begging for the public's help to deliver her home safely.”

A cool fury overtook him. “How thoughtful of her. What exactly has she been saying to the press? That I took her to raise her up as loyal supporter of You-Know-Who, because that’s more her style than mine. Does she think if Lyra is found she gets to keep her or something? She's not taking my child, not under any circumstance.”

Remus gave him a sharply pointed look as Lyra's head tilted toward the angry hissing. Sirius collected himself and gave her a reasuring smile, sticking his tounge out at her for good measure just to get a one of her sweet little giggles.

"I’m not suggesting you hand her over to Narcissa, Sirius, I’m just informing you about what's going on. For now, you seem to be safe here, but I'm not sure what sort of leads they have on you, and I think you should consider leaving at some point. England would be best, but here at the very least."

"I don't want to give our position away now by sticking my head out of the hole. What good would that do?"

Remus leaned in so he could whisper. Sirius' lips twitched as he fought a smile, having his worried face so close once more after years of not seeing it. He looked like he’d aged a decade, but it was still his Moony under all those lines. "This won't work in the long term," he insisted, that crease between his brows digging deeper. "Lyra's content right now, but she's going to grow tired of being confined inside all day."

"She's been fine so far."

"Yes, and that's concerning, Sirius. It is concerning a child her age is so okay with this situation. I know you are enjoying having her tied to your side after being apart for so long, but she should be begging to be going outside, to be able to run around and explore. We should be finding her somewhere she can live a relatively normal life."

The damn breaking, Sirius did finally smile. "We, huh? You plan on running away with us, Remus?"

Remus rolled his eyes, leaning away. "You know what I meant. I'm going to help you find somewhere the two of you can be safe until your name can be cleared. It's going to take time, so we have to figure out the long term plan."

“Sure thing, Moony.”

Lyra frowned as she overheard what her father had said, standing up. “I thought I was your moon?”

Sirius turned to her. “You are, Lyra, you are my Mini Moon. This here is Moony. He’s the big one.”

Seeing she was still not satisfied with this answer, Remus kindly told her, “I promise, you’re still his favorite moon.”

Lyra turned back to her father. “Do you promise?”

“Oh absolutely.”

Pleased with this answer, Lyra swayed happily, a big smile crossing her face. She ran over to him, pulling herself into her father's lap.

"Moony here was just saying we should look for some other living accommodations. Find a place that we can spread out a bit. What do you think? I’m thinking somewhere warm, tropical. Somewhere with a beach. Anything you'd like to add to the search requirements?"

Lyra thought hard, her little brows furrowed in thought as she leaned her head against her father’s shoulder. “…a dragon.”

The two men chuckled. “There’s no better defense system out there,” Remus agreed. "You'll have a fun time learning to train it."

“Alrighty, when the time is right, we’ll pack up here, and go find our beach home with a dragon. Just as soon as we pick up your god brother.”

And there fell Remus’ smile. “Sirius, no.”

“I can’t leave him, Moony. James wanted him with us if anything happened to him and Lily.”

“That was before you were a criminal on the run. He’s with family, he’s safe.”

“Have you checked in on him? Personally?” There was silence. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Look, Lily didn’t talk about it often, but her and that sister of hers were about as close as my mother and I were.”

“You can’t kidnap a child that isn’t your own, especially not him. You weren't walking around after You-Know-Who was defeated, he was deemed the Boy Who Lived. There isn't a witch or wizard out there who doesn't know his name. The entirety of the Wizarding world will be in an uproar if they found out you took him.”

“It’s not kidnapping, it’s putting things right,” Sirius snapped. He could feel the grip of Lyra’s little fist in his shirt grow tight with anxiety. He rubbed a soothing hand up and down her back as he tried to smooth his ruffled feathers. “I cannot leave James’ son where he is unless I know for certain he is better off there.”

Remus chewed this over, looking incredibly conflicted. It was clear he didn’t think it was a good idea, but he knew Sirius well enough to know when he wasn’t winning an argument, as logical as it was.

“…fine, Pads. I will go check on Harry—”

“No, I will. I am going to see for myself.” He stood, handing Lyra over to Remus, only for her to immediately scramble out of his hold, arms raised to be picked up again.

“I must not bring this up enough, but you are a fugitive. A very well known one who already has his face plastered across ever wizarding and muggle street corner. You could be recognized!”

“You’ll stay here and watch Lyra for me won’t you?” Sirius smoothed down her hair as her arms flailed even more desperately. “It shouldn’t take more than a few days.”

“Is there a reason you’re wanting to go instead of me? Do you think I’ll lie to you about the conditions he’s in.”

Sirius said nothing, just stared at his friend with a cool, blank sort of stare that was meant to speak for him. And it did, as Remus’ face dropped, and a look of restrained shame came over him. He hadn't yet forgiven him for not looking in on Lyra, to know she wasn't where she was meant to be, for having done nothing to fix it.

“You’ll watch Lyra?” he repeated once he sure the message had come across.

“…yeah. I’ll stay and watch Lyra.”

Lyra let out a wail, the classical toddler sort, and Sirius at once swung her into his arms, laying kisses alongside her head. “Oh, my sweet little moon, what is the matter? I won't be gone long. You won’t miss me will you?” She cried, shoving her head into his shoulder. “Get yourself a break from your ol’ dad. You'll probably be glad I'm gone.” She let out a resounding NO, which died into a whimpering pout. “You might actually get yourself a good nights sleep for once, won’t have to listen to my snoring all night, like SHHZZZZZZZ—!!” Lyra began to giggle manically, her pouting from just a moment before masked by her amusement with her dad’s antics.

"You don't snore like that!" she laughed.

"No? Are you sure? Doesn't sound like this at all: SHHHHHHHHZZZZZZ!!!!"

She pulled away from his shoulder. "You're so silly!"

"I hope you never forget that." He pushed the hair out of her face so he could see it. “You and Remus will have a grand time without me. A pair of moons the two of you are. And he's a great cook, much better than me.”

"Does he cook gormee?"

"Better: he cooks edible." He pressed his forehead to hers. "You promise you'll be good for him?" She nodded. "Make at least one mess for him to clean up? A real big one, with a big impossible stain to remove?"

"Promise you're coming back?"

"Consider it an unbreakable vow."

"Now I want a promise of my own," Remus said. "Promise you'll think about what I've said, and that taking Harry is a last resort."

"As if I could rid myself of your dulcet tones, Moony."

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Lyra wasn't quite sure about this man named Remus yet. When he’d first arrived all those days ago, she was sure he was there to take her father away. He’d been so angry, and he’d made her father angry, and she had wanted nothing more than for him to go away and never come back.

Instead, her father invited him inside, and they all ate dinner together—or, more like they watched Lyra eat her dinner and then awkwardly stirred their own—then her father put her in their bed, and they sat in silence until she’d convinced them she was asleep. Then they spoke in very quiet whispers on the other side of the room, in voices so low Lyra couldn’t make out the words and eventually just fell asleep. She had expected him to be gone in the morning, but they were both still there, neither looking like they had gotten any sleep. Her father took her nap with her that day.

The man Remus stayed for two more nights before he left, and that was the last she thought they’d see of him. But it wasn’t long before he was back, and this time with food, and lots of it. Her father had been excited, and the two of them spent the afternoon fixing up a shelf to store things on and organizing the cans and boxes.

He’d brought more food with him every time he left and came back, and Lyra was starting to think he might be around for a while. It seemed to make her father happy, but she still wasn’t quite sure she felt the same. He was a stranger, yet there was something oddly familiar about him.

That morning, after breakfast, her father kissed her on the forehead and promised he’d be back soon. Lyra would have gone and hid as soon as her father was gone, if there was somewhere in her new home for her to hide. All there was was the space under the bed, which the man Remus could see quite easily to where she lay under there.

Just to prove how easy it was to find her, he pulled up the dangling covers and got down onto his knees to look at her. "Are you pouting down there?" he asked.

Lyra shook her head, hiding her face in her crossed arms.

"Are you sure?" She nodded her head. "Well, if you're going to stay down there, would you like a little blanket to wrap yourself up in." She hesitated before nodding her head. He pulled the length of fabric she'd claimed as hers off the top of the bed and handed it over to her. "Would you like a pillow too? In case you get tired?" Another nod. "You're looking pretty set down there. Would you like some juice as well, any snacks? No? Okay, you let me know if you want any books or toys to keep you entertained."

Those were things she had now. Books and toys. She hadn’t had any when they first came to this new place, and she’d had to make do with her imagination and whatever makeshift thing her father could conjure up. They were some of the things this man Remus had brought when he'd brought them food. Her father sat with her before bed every night and read her a story that she got to pick, using the few stuffies she'd been gifted as props for the voices he used.

Her lip jutted out as she realized she wasn't getting a story tonight.

She was very careful not to let her sniffles be heard from her position under the bed, hiding them in her blanket. Father didn't seem to mind her cries, she'd learned it was fine when he heard them, but grandmother had been different. She would become very cross anytime she heard Lyra crying. She didn’t know about other people, she didn’t know about him and she didn’t want to test it.

She saw one of her new stuffies on the ground, just a bit away from the edge of the bed. It was a frog, with long legs, floppy webbed feet and a big head that usually tipped it over. She’d named him Jumper, because that was what frog did. Wanting it, she reached out from her hiding spot, straining to reach it.

From where he sat, the man Remus paused, then stood up and walked over. Her hand quickly retreated, afraid of getting caught.

He reached down, picking up the stuffed frog, and placing it just within Lyra’s reach. She didn’t reach out for it now, fearing it was a trick to get her out from her hiding spot. It fell onto its face and he took the time to set it back up into its seated position, holding a hand out to make sure it stayed, before, surprisingly, walking back to his early seat and resuming his activity.

She waited a full minute just to see if it were some sort of trick, before reaching out and grabbing it. He did nothing about it.

With a friend safely secured, Lyra now wiped her tears in its fur, and cried in silent misery, missing her father, until she fell asleep.

When she woke next, the sun had reached further across the floor. She could still see Remus’ feet across the room, standing now and chopping something up. Her stomach growled at the thought of food, and suddenly she realized just how hungry she really was.

“…can I have a snack?”

He paused his chopping for a moment. “Yeah, you can have a little snack,” he said easily. “I’m making lunch right now, so only a little one, to tide you over. You’ll have to come out though to get it.”

The thought of a snack was a bit more appealing than staying under the bed all day. With some reluctance, Lyra crawled out.

The man Remus smiled at her as she did. “Nice to finally see you, moon,” he said in a soft, kind voice. The scars across his face stretched, but in a nice sort of way, a familiar sort. “How about a bit of fruit? I’ve got apples I could cut up.”

Lyra nodded her approval and came to sit at the table, waiting for her food. She brought Jumper with her, sitting him in her lap.

“We’ve still got half a day left,” he said as he cooked and she nibbled on her apple. She watched him warily as she did so. “Is there anything you are wanting to do?”

She shook her head wordlessly, sitting further back in her chair.

He hummed thoughtfully. “Could you help me with something then?” Her head tilted in question. He picked up a cutting board with slices of bread on it, some butter and a dull knife and placed it in front of her. “I’m busy with the stew. Do you mind buttering some bread for the two of us? Something to go with our lunch. It’d be very helpful.”

That caught her interest. She didn’t think she’d ever really been helpful before. Her father was always able to handle everything for the two of them, and Kreature had never needed her for help, not ever.

She busied herself with buttering the bread, being sure that it got into every corner of the bread. When the man checked back in her work he nodded in approval. “Yes, this will do just nicely. You did a really good job, Lyra.”

Her heart soared at that despite her wariness of him. She couldn’t wait to tell her father that she’d done a good job when he got home, he’d be so happy to hear it.

A little bit later, lunch was ready, and they had their actual meal. He was a better cook than her father, that much was unfortunately for certain. Kreature had been a good cook as well, and she’d only just gotten used to what her father served.

“You can play with your toys while I clean up, Moon,” he said once they were finished.

He stood to clear away their dishes.

“...why did you try and take my father away?”

He was startled by the question. Lyra, having only just gathered up the courage to ask, sat on her hands and hoped he wouldn’t be too upset with her asking.

“I…I thought your dad did a very bad thing,” he explained cautiously. “The sort of thing someone has to go to jail for, so they can be punished.”

“Did he do a really bad thing?”

“No, there was a mistake. It just looked like he did.”

“Grandmother says he did something bad too.”

“A lot of people think so. That’s why there are people are after him right now, because not everyone knows the truth.” Remus leaned down onto his elbows so he could level their eyesights. “You did a very brave thing, coming out that day to help your dad. You helped to convince me to let him explain himself.” He smiled. “But please, don’t do that again. I’m very scared the next person won’t do the same and you could be hurt.”

She hadn’t thought so much that she was saving her father that day as much as she wanted to be sure, wherever he went, she went with him.

Remus reached out and took one of the frog’s little hands. “You know, this was my stuffie when I was your age. I took him everywhere with me, even when I got a bit old for toys like this, because I was a very lonely little boy. But after I met your dad, and our friend James, I found I didn’t need him so much.”

Lyra thought on that for a moment before holding the stuffie out. “Do you want him back?”

“No, sweet heart, I gave him to you. I think you’ll be a better friend to him than I will. Besides, I got my friend back. And maybe you and I can be friends too.”

“Because you’re a moon and I’m a moon too?”

Remus laughed softly. “Yeah, exactly.”

“But I’m still my dad’s favorite.”

He reached out and gave her nose a teasing pinch, making her giggle. “Braggart.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Now no longer suspicious of the new figure in her and her father’s lives, Lyra decided she actually liked Remus quite a lot. He wasn’t as good at doing the voices as her father was while reading her stories, but he was very good at telling new ones, ones he didn’t even need a book for. He let her color his drawings and in turn let her help him make supper too. And right before bed, when she really started to miss her father, he made shadow puppets against the wall for her to watch as she fell asleep.

“Night, little moon.” He smoothed a hand over her hair.

“Night big moon.” She grabbed his hand, much larger than her own, and held that in one hand, her other arm wrapped around Jumper, just until she fell asleep.

Later that night, Lyra was woken first to the sound of heavy rain and thunder. She rubbed her eyes and turned toward the window where water pelted against the glass. There was a new sound, one that had Remus jerking upright in the chair he’d claimed as his bed, and grabbing his wand. He was silhouetted by the next flash of lighting, his entire frame ridgid.

“Lyra,” he hissed in a low voice. “Under the bed. Now—”

The door opened, and he pointed his wand towards it.

“Mind getting us a towel, Moony?” her father asked, setting down a little boy. “We’re dripping all over.”

#burning of a withered tree #fanfic #boawt au #fanfic aus #Cut and Run AU

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dragonbanexxi · 1 year

Text

The Dragon Queen

Not Canon Compliant!!!!

Jaehaera Targaryen x Aegon III Targaryen

Chapter 11: Jaehaera

“Beloved cousin!” The mock in his tone as clear as day. “How lovely to see you again.” His smile oozing of cocksure arrogance.

The Green Princess doesn’t return his fake delight, in her best disinterested voice she simply says “Prince Viserys”

The Prince’s smile drops a bit, understanding what she’s doing. Making her boundary known. They maybe blood related; ‘cousins’ as he said, but he wasn’t her family.

Jaehaera wouldn’t outright proclaim him as an enemy either, that would be foolish. She’d have the ire of the whole of King’s Landing if she harmed him, that’s why she had a kitchen maid prepare bread and salt on try.

Jaehaera motions Paroh forward, and she coats the bread in the salt eating it infront of her cousin.

Guest rights, a Westerosi tradition that out dates both the Andals and Valyrians in Westeros. By eating the offering show vows no harm will come onto him by her hands, nor could he harm her.

The child walks up to the newcomer, who in return regains his arrogant smile once more. Jaehaera’s little translator blushes cutely at the Valyrian prince. Damn near swooning infront of him.

The Green Princess must admit her cousin was handsome. His pale silver hair cut neatly to his shoulders. A strong jawline, and his eyes the purest amethyst. He stood a good head taller than her.

Viserys chuckles as he finishes his offering.

“My cousin I’m surprised you still remember Westerosi customs.”

The Princess shares a look with Ser Robert. “Why do you say your grace?”

The handsome man steps forward, causing Ser Robert to tighten his grip on the hilt of his steel sword.

“Well seeing that you’ve been frolicking around Essos for the better part of a decade, I had assumed you had turned half savage.”

“Mind your tongue boy!” Ser Robert snarls “You’re not in Westeros anymore.” The gleam in the knight eyes dangerous.

The threat only works to make Viserys even more annoying. “Ahh yes, Ser Robert I presume?” The prince drawls. “You’ve gained quite the name back home you know. Ser Robert The Deserter.”

Ser Robert doesn’t react he simply says “A Kings Guard serves his King for life. My TRUE king…” the older man emphasizes the word true, “ordered me to protect the princess at all cost.”

Now it’s Viserys turn to snarl “The Usurper you mean, he was no King! Only a pretender! My Mother was the rightful queen!”

Ser Robert smirks just as arrogantly as prince did earlier “Not for some”

If looks could kill, her sworn shield would have been six feet under. Viserys face looks murderous like he could lunge at him any second now. The prince opens his mouth to retort something back but is interrupted.

“Alright that’s enough from both of you. I will not have you both come to blows in my courtyard.” She steps closer to her estranged cousin but faces her sworn shield.

“Ser Robert, Prince Viserys for the time being is my guest, he will be treated with respect.” The man nods, begrudgingly so. Though she knows he will obey.

“Prince Viserys, Ser Robert is my sworn shield. I will not have anyone in my council disrespected by you, while you’re here.” Her voice grows stern, “Both of you understand, yes?”

“Yes…” both men say in unison.

“Good” she hums. “Now, I will not beat around the bush Prince Viserys.” Their eyes lock, his face serious.

“What brings you to Meeren?”

The prince’s air of arrogance resurrecting once more. A small smile ghosting his lips. “Can’t a man pay a visit too his long lost cousin?”

He doesn’t get a reaction out of her. Her emotions were well kept to herself just as when she was a child.

“Seeing as how you or any of your folk haven’t visited before, one can only grow suspicious.” She sees his amethyst eyes travel from her collarbone to her neck slowly. She doesn’t like it. Oddly it feels like she his prey.

He interrupts her thoughts, “Our folk cousin. They’re your blood too.”

Jaehaera couldn’t help but sour her face at the comment. The remaining blacks meant nothing to her and she wouldn’t flatter herself in believing she meant something to them in return.

“Let us speak with truth Prince Viserys.”

He pouts at her feigning hurt. “Very well cousin, but let us speak over wine” his smile mischievous. “It’ll do me better to speak with truth over good wine and pretty company.”

Giving a dejected sigh she says “Very well, let us head inside.” Jaehaera turns walking towards the entrance. Her Unsullied guards close at behind. They make there way through the long hallway that was lit up by burning torches. The light of the flames and the bronze color of the walls made the hallway glow gold.

“It’s a nice dig you’ve acquired for yourself cousin.”

He didn’t see her eye twitch nor her nose scrunch up since she had her back towards him. It was absolutely insufferable how informal Viserys was acting towards her.

“Yes the Great Pyramid has its charm, as does the rest of the city.” Her voice neutral.

“The art is very erotic for my taste however.” His voice smug. “Harpy’s fucking mermaids… now that is just horrifying.”

“Do you ever keep quiet?” She says before she can stop herself.

“Yeah, only when I’m using my mouth for other activities.”

“Yes well the art of silence doesn’t hurt to learn.”

He lets out a childish huff. Jaehaera ignores it but smirks triumphantly.

They finally made it to her private quarters, it had a large living room to host company. She motions her cousin to sit in cushioned seat. Ser Robert standing outside her door loyally. The knight gives a reassuring nod, meaning he’s ready to cut the newcomer down if need be. Jaehaera smiles gratefully at him. She owes this man the world.

Viserys ignores her heading straight for the pitcher of wine.

“Finally!” He exclaims happily. “Red wine! I’ve been surviving on nothing but white Essosi and I’m tired of it.” Cheerfully filling up two goblets for he and Jaehaera. Handing it too her.

Looking at her expectantly to see if she drinks. Jaehaera mutters a quiet thank you, taking a ladylike sip. She allows herself to partake only because she saw him pour it. Had he been facing away from her, the wine would have been untouched.

Viserys sits down with his legs crossed, leaning back languidly. His pale hand swirling his wine in his goblet.

“You’ve changed Haera.”

Her Lilac eyes finding his at the mention of her nickname. Her palms grow sweaty, she grips her dress gently.

“Haera…” her voice quiet. A sad half smile gracing her face. “I can’t remember when was the last time someone referred to me as such.” It didn’t feel right however. Haera was too intimate, a nickname given to her by Jaehaerys.

“I think I told you once not too call me that when were children.”

It earns her an impish grin from the Targaryen Prince. “Yes you did, but when do I ever listen?” His tone playful.

Jaehaera only sighs with a small roll to her eyes. “Why are you here Viserys? What does your brother want?”

Her cousin drinks from goblet smirking a bit at her. “My brother wants peace cousin.” The vague answers irritating her but she keeps a civil face.

“Peace?” She repeats seeing him nod once.

“Peace, cousin. To end the war, and keep our family… united.”

Her pale brows fur. “The war has been over for almost ten years now. Surely there isn’t anything left for us to parley.”

“You’ll be surprised cousin dearest how much you’re missed back home.”

Jaehaera scoffs very unladylike. Westeros miss her? After ten years of self imposed exile. That’s pure rubbish.

“You’re full of shit Viserys”

His eyes sparking in interest, liking her off the cuff attitude. Viserys likes haughty women, and his cousin like him burns of dragon fire.

“Ahh there she is, I was beginning to wonder when my tart tongued cousin was going to appear!”

Jaehaera clenched her jaw not liking being called tart tongued at all. “You haven’t changed one bit, still as obnoxious as ever.”

The man snickers into his goblet, sipping happily. Gods he hopes he can convince her to return back home with him. Jaehaera’s dryness could give his sister Baela a run for her money.

“I’m not lying cousin. Aegon wants you to return home so the war can end once and for all.”

She gives him an incredulous look. The Dance of Dragons ended ten years ago.

“There is no war. Aegon is King now.”

“True, but his grace needs more stability.”

Her brow raises signifying that she doesn’t understand.

“The noble houses who supported your father are making Aegon’s life difficult at court.” He elaborates.

That makes Jaehaera snort. “And that is my problem because…?”

“Tis your problem because they want to replace my brother with you.” Blood pumps painfully through her heart now.

“The Lannister’s and Baratheon’s are not happy that they’ve been made to pay most of the reparations towards the Riverlands. They think by getting rid of us and installing you, you’ll make Lord Tully return the gold and money they gave him.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She mutters, “that contradicts the purpose of them siding with my father.”

The mention of Aegon the Second brings a small sneer on her cousins face.

“Yes well it doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s treasonous.” Viserys says flatly. “Aegon is the rightful King.”

That statement was true. Only because her uncles and brothers are no longer alive. Apart of her is whispering to defend her faction. “If Jaehaerys would have lived, he would have been the rightful King.”

Her cousin’s fingers grip the goblet tightly, “Let’s not do this Jaehaera.”

She gets a chill from how frosty his tone turned. Jaehaera doesn’t show it however, it’s her turn to be obnoxious.

“No I will speak with truth. My Father was the rightful heir by the laws of Seven.”

“I would prefer to speak of something else.”

She put on her best diplomatic face. “Fine,” she growls “Have it your way! Write to his grace and inform him that I have no plans nor any want to return to the Seven Kingdoms. I’m quite content here in Meeren.” She sets her goblet down on the well crafted table.

“I don’t think you understand cousin. He doesn’t want to make a hostage out of you.” His voice still serious.

“I don’t care what he wants!” Jaehaera roars. She stands up abruptly. Walks towards to window. Looks outside to her city. Everything looks so tiny from up where she’s at. Like a tiny ant colony.

“Aegon wants peace? Tell him to leave me be and find stability elsewhere.” Her heart racing like a stampede.

“Fuck Westeros! Fuck you! Fuck the King! Just leave me alone!” The anger in her voice was powerful.

“Now Haera we both know that is impossible.” His footsteps were light, Jaehaera notes. He was standing behind her.

His breath hot in her ear, “Not when you have three baby dragons in your possession.” He whispers, causing her to shiver. He traps her between the window seal and his body, encasing her with his long arms.

Her lilac eyes widening like those of an owl. How did he know about her dragons? Her thoughts turning to babies. Would they kill her and take them back to Westeros?

She turns to face him. The urge to slap the smugness off his face strong. Glaring up at her cousin, utterly annoyed that she only reached up to his neck.

She pushes him away from her, making space between them.

“If you even think about-“,

Viserys cuts her off. Taking her dainty hands in his large ones in a firm grip so she doesn’t pull away. His amethyst eyes sincere as they sought out her lilac ones.

“I’m not thinking anything Jaehaera, I want you to trust me and Aegon.” He pulls a piece of parchment from out his doublet handing it too her.

It’s warm in her hands, and smells of Viserys. Sandalwood and spice ash. It smells like a man. “It’s a letter written for you personally by Aegon. Read it later. We can speak more tomorrow.”

She nods in agreement.

“Good. Now I have an important request from you cousin.” His voice back to his normal smugness.

“Oh? How may I be of service?”

His feline smile gracing his face once more. “Well you see, I brought a whore with me from Astapor. Could she stay in quarters while I’m here?”

The shock on her face must have hilarious because Viserys busy out laughing. That was the last thing she expects him to say. Finding the humor in this, she too laughs along with him.

“Very well, that’s alright with me.”

“Try not to be jealous cousin.”

“Oh please, I pity the poor woman. She has to put up with your nonstop chatter.”

“Not when I’m using my mouth to-“

“Do shut up!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just the first glimpse of their chaotic friendship that’s soon to come :)

Thank you guys again ❤️ Comments are always welcomed!

#aegon iii targaryen #jaehaera targaryen #jaehaera targaryen x aegon iii targaryen #jaehaera x aegon iii

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theprissythumbelina · 3 months

Note

Hey! Some asks for ya.

Gingko: What part of your story is the oldest, has stuck around from that original idea?

Pawpaw: How do you name your characters?

Ginko: So oddly enough, the entire first section/arc of Mortal Sparks has existed since its inception. I originally wrote it as a one off to share with a writing group I was in at the time, and to play with a character that came to me very strongly, Nicolette. From the start I had her, her mother, Daisy, and Alyss and her cousin. They weren't as they are now, Alyss in particular has changed a lot, but they were all there. I still have that version in my files too, it's wild to read.

PawPaw: I like to take normal names and funk them up a little. Alyss was Alice, Juliya was Julia, Andressa was Andrea, Haira was Hannah, Auren was Ava, etcetera. I have no idea where Nicolette came from.

#ask games #thank you for the ask #wip mortal sparks

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houseofslash · 2 years

Text

Bo Sinclair Theory...Dukes of Hazzard

Alright fan theory time. As we all know Bo Sinclair is known for wearing a Sweetbird '69 hat (which to this day I'm still hunting for). What interests me is the car seen on the hat references the 1969 Dodge Charger, which is the same vehicle that the General Lee is. Now for those who don't know, the General Lee is the orange car driven by the two main characters of the TV Show The Dukes of Hazzard. This show aired from '79 to '85, so there is a very strong chance that the Sinclair boys would have seen this show and been familiar with it.

Continuing further, the two male leads are named Bo and Luke Duke. Bo Duke. For anyone who hasn't watched the show I'll break it down simply: Bo and Luke got in trouble for smuggling moonshine into Hazzard County in their youth and have been known to be trouble makers ever since. Out of the two Duke cousins, Luke is the more mature one and Bo is the impulsive one. Bo Duke is easily swayed by women. He is much more act first and act without thinking. He is charming as hell and uses it to his advantage many times. He's shown to have a temper and often gets in trouble for being a bit more immature than his cousin.

All of those traits are also seen in Bo Sinclair.

Which makes me wonder, if Bo Sinclair is 1) Named Bo as a nod to the Dukes of Hazzard and 2) if the character for Bo was meant to be a more extreme version of Bo Duke.

Fan theory wise, I think perhaps Bo Sinclair was a fan of the show and drafted a lot of himself after Bo Duke, even taking the name Bo. Bo Duke was an icon to a lot of people during the peak of the Dukes' fame, so I wouldn't be surprised if he was one of those who felt the same.

Also noting that some of the lyrics from the Dukes of Hazzard theme song oddly enough work for the Sinclair boys. "The mountain might get 'em but the law never will", "Making their way the only way they know how. That's just a little bit more than the law will allow", "I'm a good ol' boy, my mama loves me."

Maybe it's a stretch but I genuinely feel that there's some inspiration drawn from the Dukes in making Bo Sinclair, or that he himself drew some inspiration from them when growing up and shaping who he wanted to be.

#house of wax (2005)#bo sinclair #fan theory #text #by liv #house of wax

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leiawritesstories · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER EIGHT: YOU’RE LATE, GALATHYNIUS!

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: language, innuendo, pirate talk, many surprises

MASTERLIST

A/N: and they meet at last ;) ENJOY!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin deliberately kept herself at least a day behind the Doranelle, knowing its position thanks to Aedion’s updates. He hadn’t been particularly happy about having to navigate his current ship out of the Iron Isles, but even he admitted it had been a goddamned good plan to get them good and lost in the Graveyard. You’re fucking lucky it didn’t storm, his note had grumbled, or I’d be one pissed cousin right now.

She’d cackled at that, sending him a brief apology to placate his feelings. I know, Aeds, and I’m sorry. Rolfe must have something fucking urgent, though, if he’s just sending out summons.

Whatever his motives, Aelin knew Rolfe wouldn’t dream of starting any business without each of the pirate lords present and accounted for, and she fully intended to be the last lord entering. If only to see the utter shock on Whitethorn’s face when she strolled into the Keep with his man at her back. Because hell yes, Fenrys was coming in her contingent, along with Elide, Manon, Lysandra, and a handful of her most intimidating crewmen. No way was she ignoring this glorious opportunity to return Fenrys to his ship in style. After all, once she paraded into the Keep, everyone would know that Ash Galathynius was, in fact, a woman, and thus Fen would be free to reveal that he’d been taken captive by a woman.

I presume you made it safely out of the Isles, though? she’d asked, not wanting to have unnecessarily jeopardized the safety of her cousin.

Safe and sound, Aedion reassured her, though Whitethorn is anything but happy with the chase. Gods, you should have seen his face. Looked like a thunderstorm, I swear. An actual fucking thunderstorm.

Aelin cackled at the mental image. She didn’t know exactly what Whitethorn’s face looked like, but she could very well picture the type of inchoate rage he must have been experiencing.

“Something funny, Cap?” Lysandra sauntered up to her side.

Aelin waved Aedion’s message at her. “Aeds has been telling me all about how mad Whitethorn got after Manon so cleverly left him floundering in the Isles.”

Lysandra cackled. “Wish I could have seen the Doranelle all flustered, but I guess I’ll have to make do with Aed’s notes.”

“Make do, eh?” Aelin wiggled her eyebrows. “Bet you do, Lys.”

Lys smacked her shoulder. “Don’t be disgusting, Ae!”

“I’m not the one getting disgusting to thoughts and dreams and pictures or something,” Aelin smirked.

“Bitch,” Lys chuckled. “Though let me tell you, the paintings he left me when he went off on this little trip are more than enough to…stir my thoughts.” She winked broadly.

Aelin shuddered. “Eww--gods--fuck no, Lys, I do not need that in my mind.”

“Serves you right!” Lys laughed.

“Sure,” Aelin chuckled, heading for her cabin. “Just you keep your horny thoughts to yourself and we’ll all be fine, yeah?”

“I’ll make sure to moan his name extra loud,” Lys promised, blowing her a kiss and heading belowdecks.

Aelin shuddered again, shaking the horrifying thoughts of her cousin and her dearest friend away from her mind. Focus, Galathynius! We’ve got to get to the Keep, and soon.

Clad in his best (which just meant cleanest) jacket, white shirt, black pants, and high boots, his battered old leather tricorne atop his head, Rowan pushed through the doors of the council room at the Pirates’ Keep, stabbing his sword into the globe that sat behind the head of the great long table.

“Ah, Whitethorn!” Rolfe exclaimed, clasping Rowan’s tattooed hand with his gloved one in greeting. “How fares the Doranelle?”

“Rather excellently,” Rowan replied tersely, shaking the pirate king’s hand. Behind him, Lorcan snorted quietly, hoping the sound would go undetected.

Rolfe, of course, noticed Lorcan snort, but oddly enough said nothing. “Good to hear,” he said warmly. He cast his eyes around the room as Rowan took his seat, taking a silent inventory of all the assembled pirate lords.

“The hell’s he waiting for?” grumbled the lord to Rowan’s left, a weathered older captain by the name of Darrow. “We’re all here, yeah?”

Rowan glanced around the room, taking a mental count of the faces assembled. There were fourteen pirate lords, counting himself, ten men and four women, unless Rolfe had named a new lord since the council last assembled. His eyes tracked around the room, numbering each of the seated lords. Thirteen, himself included. Rolfe didn’t count; he was the pirate king. Thirteen? He shook his head, counting again. He swore he had been the last one to dock, all but sprinting to wash and change and make it to the council room.

Rolfe sighed, tapping the watch that sat upon his wrist. “Thirteen. Only thirteen. Where the hell is Galathynius?”

Once again, Rowan’s eyes widened in incredulity. “Galathynius?” he hissed to Darrow. “The fuck?”

“Rhoe’s kid,” Darrow shrugged, “Rolfe must have seen enough in that to give the kid the title.”

Just as Rolfe was about to take his seat and call the meeting to order, thirteen out of fourteen lords be damned, the doors shoved open once more.

“Aww, Rolfe, surely you weren’t going to start without me?” rang out a bold, throaty female voice.

Rowan turned his head very, very slowly towards the front of the room. All thoughts save one flew from his head. Holy burning hell, she is gorgeous.

The woman standing at the head of the table--tall, golden-blonde, and grinning, clad in fitted leggings, a loose shirt, an open jacket, and tall, laced-up boots, a cocked tricorne sitting jauntily upon her loose, wavy hair--shoved her sword into the globe, clasped Rolfe’s hand, and strode to the last empty seat at the table. Which, as luck would have it, was across the table and one seat down from Rowan’s.

“My lords,” she greeted the rest of the room, sweeping a half-bow as she seated herself.

Rowan couldn’t tear his eyes off of her, off the confidence oozing from every inch of her frame. Couldn’t look away from the raw, mesmerizing charisma she radiated. It was then that he noticed just who accompanied the young captain. And his reverie very quickly ended.

For that was Fenrys Moonbeam behind her chair, flanked by two women dressed similarly to Galathynius, both with pistols holstered at their hips, both just as sharp-eyed as their captain.

“How good of you to join us, Aelin Galathynius,” Rolfe drawled, taking his seat at the head of the table.

Galathynius--Aelin--nodded regally, grinning fiendishly at the pirate king. “Who am I to refuse such a polite invitation?” she snarked right back, leaning into her chair.

Rolfe smirked. “Touché, Captain Galathynius.”

The room had erupted into whispers and chatter, the gathered pirate lords trying to figure out just why the holy hell they hadn’t been informed that Rhoe Galathynius’s child was, in fact, a daughter, and when and why said daughter had earned the title of pirate lord.

Fed up with the commotion, Rolfe fired one pistol into the air, the crack of the gun’s report bringing the whole room to attention. “Now, as to why I called you all here…”

Aelin had picked Rowan Whitethorn out of the assembled pirate lords almost immediately upon making her grand entry. How could she not? He, out of all the assembled lords, had been the most shocked that she was, well, herself. Honestly, she couldn’t really blame him. Nobody had been expecting her; they’d all been expecting Ash Galathynius, Rhoe’s son.

And the fact that she had Fenrys in her contingent probably also added to the scowl on Whitethorn’s face, but of course any captain worth his shit would quickly and easily find his men in a crowd. Especially if said men had been on another’s ship.

What she hadn’t been expecting was for Whitethorn to be so godsdamned gorgeous.

It took nearly all of her restraint not to ogle him, his impressive height and musculature, the strong, chiseled planes of his face, at the wicked, unfairly damned hot tattoo that flicked up his neck and the side of his face and disappeared into his shirt, extending all the way onto his hand, the silvery strands of his hair, tied back into a ponytail. Fuck, she liked gorgeous men with long hair. In her periphery, she noticed Rowan Whitethorn staring unabashedly at her and allowed a small hint of a grin to curl up the corner of her lips.

He definitely hadn’t been expecting her.

Though perhaps his attention was focused more on Fenrys, who was diligently avoiding his captain’s hard green gaze, his head turned firmly towards Rolfe.

Aelin chuckled inwardly, satisfied with how her grand plans to shock every single pirate lord in the room had gone. Well, perhaps not all of them. Nehemia Ytger, Captain of the Eyllwe and her good friend since childhood, definitely knew she was one of the lords. But the other twelve? Hardly a chance.

“We all know that Maeve has been making life hell for us since she ascended to the throne,” Rolfe intoned, jerking Aelin back into the present, “but this…this is worse.” Standing, he withdrew a folded poster from within his jacket and flipped it open. “‘Be it henceforth known’--gods, what the hell is it with royalty and their goddamned big words?--‘that every pirate is now considered the top enemy of the state. All vessels determined to be pirates will be shown no mercy. Any ship who brings in pirates, their stolen goods, and/or their vessels shall be rewarded with these sums, as follows.’” Rolfe took a deep, theatrical breath. “Forgive any insult Queen Maeve The Bitch’s price tags might incur, my lords. ‘For any live, captive pirate or his head, fifty pounds sterling. For any live, captive pirate captain or his head, one hundred pounds sterling. For any fully operable pirate vessel, two hundred and fifty pounds sterling. For any returned stolen goods, the value of said goods will be provided. For any information regarding the whereabouts of these vile pirates, one hundred pounds sterling.’”

Rolfe tossed the poster onto the table. “Now, I don’t know about you, my lords, but one hundred pounds a head?” He snorted. “Surely we are worth far more than that!”

Rumbles of laughter and “aye, that we are!” from around the table.

“Now then.” Rolfe clasped his gloved hands behind his back. “Whatever shall we do in the face of this utter horror?”

“Show those Royal Navy bastards what real pirates do!” hollered one of the lords from further down the table, slamming his hands flat on the weathered wood.

“You shut up, Ren, you couldn’t pass for a real pirate if’n the Royal Navy were blinder’n fuckin’ bats!” retorted another lord, setting off a shouted debate between the two.

The report of Rolfe’s pistol once again brought the somewhat chaotic assembly back to order. “No, Ren, there will not be any chasing down the Royal Navy.” Rolfe’s voice was pure command. “We can’t have those bastards actually trying to claim those rewards now, can we? Besides, if they find no pirates within a short period of time, they’ll grow bored and piss off to harass some other poor sods.”

“So what’s your master plan then?” Rowan spoke up, tilting back in his chair, the portrait of casual piratical arrogance. Damn her right to hell, even his voice was fucking gorgeous. Deep and smooth, edged with the roughness of the stormy sea. “We put up our British flags and do the Navy’s work for them?” Chuckles from around the room.

“Well, we could certainly do that, Whitethorn,” Rolfe hummed, “but I was thinking more along the lines of we scatter to further corners of the oceans. Get a change of scenery. Ravage some new territories for once.” He smirked. “Ravish some maidens that haven’t ever had the pleasure of meeting a proper pirate.” Low masculine laughter from around the table. “Fight off whatever Royal Navy shits are stupid enough to try and chase us, and relax in peace and plunder for a while. It’ll be like a vacation! What say you all?” He threw out his arms, a king extending benevolence to his people.

A resounding chorus of “AYE!” rocketed around the room, the assembled pirate lords turning avaricious at the prospect of plundering new lands.

“So say you one, so say we all!” Rolfe pounded his fist against the table slowly, each pirate lord joining in. Fifteen fists beat the old wooden table in sync, speeding up in tempo until, as one, the pirate lords and their contingents roared out their newfound greed. Chairs scraped back as the lords rose, mingling and exchanging news of however the hell long it had been since they were all together.

Aelin remained seated, half-turning in her chair to exchange greetings with Ren, whom she’d known since they were both kids scrapping with wooden practice swords while their fathers were off at sea together. She’d just given him a brief update on her successful runs with the Terrasen when, out of the corner of her watchful eye, she saw Rowan shove his chair back and stand in one fluid motion, the chair’s feet scraping against the plank flooring.

So he was going to confront her in public. How lovely. She smothered a positively wicked grin, waiting for him to make his move. It didn’t take long.

“Galathynius!” Rowan’s shout echoed across the room, bold and strong, a challenge.

Still seated, Aelin rotated her head slowly to face him. “Yeah?” Kicking back from the table, she propped her booted feet up, one golden brow arched, every inch of her posture screaming casual authority, casual confidence.

“You’ve got something I want.” Rowan paced slowly around the table, approaching her.

“Something?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “Or someone?”

“Fenrys,” he retorted.

“Oh, Fenrys,” she crooned, swinging her legs down and standing up, rolling her shoulders and arching her back to stretch it out. “Y’know, Whitethorn, I’ve grown rather fond of Fenrys here during the time he’s spent under my command.” She tossed him an angelic little smile. “You wouldn’t happen to know what one--” she tapped her chin with a finger, eyes widening in fake shock-- “no, two of your inner circle were doing trying to stow away on my ship, would you?”

A handful of coarse chuckles arose from the pirates gathered around them, eagerly listening in on the whole interaction.

Rowan’s lips tightened, his jaw locking in irritation. A muscle flickered in his cheek. “I might,” he bit out, not having expected their little interaction to go in this direction.

“Hmm,” Aelin mused, toying with a strand of her hair. “It wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain pirate king sending you word that I could be plotting a coup, would it?” Her voice saccharinely sweet.

Rowan had no response, frustration clouding his face. Aelin chuckled lightly.

“Lighten up, Captain Whitethorn,” she teased, dancing one hand down the tattooed side of his face. Putting on a show for all those observing. “Fenrys here is a shit spy. My First Mate discovered him and Mr. Scowly--that is, Lorcan--within days of them slipping aboard.” Her voice and face went hard in a blink, her Captain’s presence making its appearance, steel glinting in her turquoise eyes. “Mark my words, Whitethorn, I know everything that happens on my ship. Everything.”

He sure as hell believed her. “If he’s such a shit spy, why’d you keep him on?”

“He might be terrible at spying, but he’s an excellent seaman.” Aelin shrugged. “Having two more men, both of them obviously highly experienced, was entirely beneficial to me and to my ship.”

“Return my man,” Rowan demanded, fed up with all of this talking in circles. Fed up with how he knew he was losing this contest of wills to a brash, confident, and goddamned gorgeous woman.

“So demanding,” Aelin purred, making her voice go low and sensuous. Rowan’s breath hitched, his pupils and nostrils flaring at her tone. Fucking calm yourself, Whitethorn. She turned to Fenrys. “Well, Moonbeam? Would you like to go home?”

Fenrys considered for a moment, stroking his chin. “Much as it’s been an honor working under your command, Captain Galathynius, I would like to return home, yes.”

“Then I return you to your crew,” she replied, tilting her head towards Rowan. Fenrys knuckled his brow to her and walked over to Rowan’s contingent, taking his place next to Lorcan.

“How generous of you,” Rowan drawled, sarcasm lacing every syllable.

“I do aim to please,” she hummed, just a little on the breathy side, reveling in the way the muscle in his cheek flickered, a clear sign of his…frustration. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Whitethorn, I owe Captain Ytger a visit.” And away she swept, her crew flanking her.

Rowan watched her stride off, completely lost for words, willing his pants not to fucking stir, goddammit. Captain Ash…Captain Aelin Galathynius was not what he’d expected.

No, she was so, so much more. And now that he knew her…

Shit. He was in deep, deep shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed!

@charlizeed

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#my writing #fly the black flag #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rolfe the pirate king #this was too much fun

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secretlyamess · 2 years

Text

Stay.

I wrote this fic after being inspired by this piece by @braisedhoney (I hope you don’t mind!)

It’s gender neutral reader/Captain and I do apologize if I messed anything up there cause I don’t normally write reader inserts 😅

No trigger warnings apply but it does have spoilers for part 2 of space.

The Captain was a little disoriented from their most recent change in scenery. You’d think after doing this enough times, they’d be used to going through the wormhole and ending up in unfamiliar places sometimes with familiar faces or at least vaguely familiar places.

They throw their hands out to steady themselves as they find themselves nearly slamming face first into a graffitied wall. There’s a window or something right below the phrase “In case of emergency break glass!” in Sharpie or some other permanent marker. On the wall closest to where they had stopped themselves from face-planting into the wall was a familiar name, also in the same marker as the message above the window. Quickly, they turn towards the glass.

Relief rushes through them as they see the man on the other side of the glass. It was definitely reassuring to see a familiar face after the hell they had been through.

They point their gloved hand at the man as the man processes who was on the other side of the glass. It was visitation day, and they had shown up.

Various emotions flash briefly through Yancy’s face. The first one being a hint of confusion followed by pure shock and joy that his friend had returned. His voice is muffled by the glass while he rambles on and on about how he knew they’d be back.

The Captain looks to their left and sees a phone on their end. They pick it up and show it to the prisoner on the other side of the glass. When he doesn’t seem to get the hint, they tap it on the glass before he gets it.

The excited rambling continues about how he knew they’d be back before realizing he’s got to come up with a lie about how he knows them. Admitting that he’d help them break out probably wasn’t a good call so he tells the guard the best lie he could come up with in that moment: “This is, uh, my cousin from uh… cousin school!”

The Captain waves politely at the guard leaning to see who Yancy was talking about. A slightly amused and mayhaps nervous lock flashes across the Captain's features. There was no way the guard would buy that lie. Cousin School? Really, Yancy?

Yancy quickly reassures the Captain that the guards will buy it cause they’re not the brightest.

The Captain shakes their head in amusement before listening to their friend- or maybe something more, who knows; the multiverse was full of infinite possibilities at this point- catching them up on prison life.

After implying that there was pretty much no pressure for them to show up to visitation, since they had broken out of prison and Yancy figured they would’ve been laying low just in case, the first of the main points that Yancy was excited to update them on was that he had been cleaning up his act, like they had suggested the last time they talked. Like, he’s talking seriously cleaned up his act. Apparently the prisoner was fond of keeping things clean. Which was an oddly endearing thing to hear come from him. The next main update was that he had stopped stabbing people, and that was the hardest part. But he was all too happy and proud to report that he hadn’t stabbed anyone since the Captain got out-er, went away to “Space Camp.”

And now it was time to share one of the biggest things Yancy wanted to tell them, seeing as they were the reason he wanted to go through with it anyways.

“And, uh, one more thing… I uh, I applied for parole…” He shrugs, clearly trying to play it cool but he can’t fight the smile that tugs at his lips.

A proud grin forms on the Captain’s lips as they raise their hand to the glass for a high five. The gesture, much like the phone one, confuses Yancy briefly before he catches on and gently touches his hand to his side of the glass.

Of course, no visit would be complete without a song from Yancy. Just like when they had first met him, he had a musical number prepared. But this one was different. It was prepared just in case they had shown up. Not for just in case someone had mentioned wanting to break out or leave this place. But in case they had shown up to visit.

Before the Captain can say anything about the logistics of needing the phone to hear it, Yancy’s already rallying his prison friends for this show.

The Captain has a front row seat to the beautiful choreography put on by the prisoners and the occasional flip from the same guard Yancy had just lied to about who they were. They settle in to watch the show, faintly able to hear the song above all of the prison ambience and through the glass muffling everything.

That’s when the warp crystal started to glow, signaling it was time to go. The Captain looks at it with disappointment. They wanted to stay to see all of Yancy’s performance; they knew he’d want them to see it all too. In that moment, they make the split second decision to yank the crystal free from the fancy bracelet keeping it on them at this point in time.

“Don’t.” They sternly tell the crystal as if it could listen to them. Slowly the blue glow fades away.

They sigh and settle back in to watch the rest of Yancy’s performance. Sure, they couldn’t hear it very well, but that wasn’t going to stop them from appreciating the hard work Yancy and friends had put into making the song and choreography. They could let him know that they couldn’t hear it later. Maybe he could share it with them somehow once he got out. The warp crystal had brought them here afterall, so surely they’d be able to get back to him somehow, right? There’s bound to be a reason to cross paths with someone twice, right?

Only time would tell but for right now all that mattered was this moment in the present where they got to be there for a friend.

#ash's fanfics #ash writes #yancy #iswm pt 2 #iswm pt 2 spoilers #yancy and y/n #shout out to the artist credited above!#markiplier #yancy fanfic #in space with markiplier #in space with markiplier spoiler

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