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dreamyjoons · 4 years

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Our ‘Get Along’ Shirt - pjm

⇢ another day, another endless round of you and Jimin bickering. It’s never ending, all-consuming, and your friends have had enough. Namjoon decides to end it once and for all - with help from a shirt for squabbling toddlers.

Genre/warnings: smut, 18+! ‘enemies’-to-lovers, swearing, semi-public smut, mutual masturbation, fingering, honestly at this point a sweat kink, multiple orgasms, light choking, some spitting, unprotected sex, creampie.

Words: 14.2k lol

A/N: well hello! I’m back baby, and to celebrate i had to exorcise some Jimin demons. Did i talk about him sweating a lot? Yes. Did i use my favourite pic of him for the header? Also yes. Don’t @ me, i already know. I hope you enjoy!!!

"You're so wrong about this, it's actually kind of embarrassing."

"No you're wrong, only an idiot would think the way you do."

"Guys, no one - and I really mean this - no one cares about what kind of cups you need for beer pong. You've been arguing this for like twenty minutes now." Hoseok huffs, sitting back into the couch.

"Eighteen minutes." Namjoon sighs, tipping back his cup and gulping down its contents.

"But solo cups are far superior-"

"Jimin, they aren't!" You snap, dragging your glare away from his rolling eyes, deciding you never wanna look at him ever again.

"Please stop." Jungkook sighs, slipping off the chair beside Hoseok. His eyes flick between you before scanning the rest of the people in the room, slowly moving to the thump of the music. "Gonna find Yoongi and Tae." He mumbles before disappearing through the mass of bodies.

You'd been at the house party for less than three minutes before you and Jimin found a reason to have an argument. At first, it was how late you were - even though you found out he only got there five minutes before you. Then when you commented on the music choices to Yoongi, he found a way to disagree - despite you both knowing he loved the artist. On and on it went. Now here you were; Namjoon and Hoseok on the couch watching you both with bored expressions, Jin tuned out and typing rapidly on his phone beside them. Jimin stood to your left, and you made sure to keep him totally out of your sight.

But it was getting harder to hear him, thankfully. And he was losing steam. The house was crowded and loud, lively dancers everywhere and the smell of alcohol rich in the air. It was already way too hot out, but being stuffed inside at this party was causing everyone to sweat. You could see condensation forming on the walls.

The house was huge and expensively decorated, belonging to some producer friend of Namjoon. Marbled floors met white walls, a rug carpet covering the floor that made you wince when you thought about the price. It was sprawling and full of a ridiculous number rooms. Yet still, people had to squeeze between the spaces, excuses and polite taps lost in the fury of heat and confinement.

You held your can to your forehead to cool yourself down but it had grown warm waiting for you and Jimin to finish your current spout. You grimace but take a sip anyway - at least if you get a buzz you can ignore him for a little. You felt a pit of guilt at making Jungkook leave. But you were riled up, and you couldn't back down. Not to Jimin.

You saw Jimin tip his head back to drink out of the corner of your eye, but you daren't look at him. He was as insufferable as he was hot as hell, and not just in temperature.

However, you had managed to take a better look at him earlier in the night. His beige silk shirt was already sticking to his skin, tucked into tight jeans blacker than you had ever seen. Who wears silk to a house party? The necklace that he always wore sat just below his collarbones, and you're reminded of all the times you've wanted to throttle him with that damn chain. He'd been pushing his dark hair back all night - you could tell by how it fell about his face, silky strands falling into his eyes. Was he wearing some kind of lipgloss too? You grumble into your drink. He was too pretty for his own good.

At first the sparring was fun. There was an attraction there, on your part at least. It was spicy, something hot and fast, a way to see how compatible you were. Maybe you had some feelings for him. Possibly, potentially.

But over time it devolved. It felt like he'd say things just to get a rise out of you, to draw your attention into a battle with him. And now here you were, bitterly avoiding the man's existence.

"God, why is it so hot here?" Jin gasps, blotting his face with his sleeve.

"Probably haven't got the air con on." Jimin shrugs, taking a swig from his glass.

"It's on-" You start, eyes flicking to where you thought you could see a vent in the ceiling. It was open, so you assumed it would be on - it had to be.

"I highly doubt that."

Jimin gives you the look he always does - where he tilts his head back and stares into your soul. His plump lips part, tongue pressed behind his teeth, goading you into his trap. He gets his way every time.

"Why would they not have it on? It's burning hot even without a house full of people."

"Then it's clearly a crappy unit." He shrugs, but his words are quick and his eyes are still intensely focused on you.

"Jimin have you seen the rest of this house? Don't be dumb-"

"Shut up!"

You and Jimin spin to your friends who had all shouted in unison. The ones who could still stand to be around you both arguing, anyway. Several of the dancers that were nearby stopped to look at the exclamation but slowly drifted back into the music - albeit before taking a step further away from your group.

"Enough. I'm gonna put an end to this once and for all." Namjoon gets to his feet and strides away with purpose, standing a head above nearly everyone in the crowd.

You shiftily look at Jimin before silently waiting for Namjoon to return, confusion thick in your brain. You awkwardly chewed on your lip as the seconds ticked by, before finally he stalks back, his bag under his arm.

He throws himself back into his seat, flips open the top of his bag and rifles through.

Finally he pulls out a heap of bright yellow material, and with a small noise, he dumps his bag beside him before bolting up. He unravels the material and holds it up to you, grin growing on his face.

It takes you a few seconds to focus on what he is holding out to you and Jimin - but when you realise, you gasp.

"'Our get along shirt'? Namjoon you've gotta be joking." you splutter, scanning the shirt.

It was a sickly yellow, 'our get along shirt' printed on it in what appeared to be black glitter. It could probably fit both you and Jimin in it, maybe Yoongi could slip in too. It looked somewhat roomy, but that was not the point.

"What?" Jimin asks, lips parted as he stares into the glitter.

"You're both gonna wear it and get over whatever bullshit is going on here." Namjoon says so casually, as if he was asking the time or giving directions. But you saw the seriousness in the minute movements of his face. The clench on his jaw, the hardiness of his eyes.

"We're adults Namjoon, you can't expect us to wear that." Jimin's face had gone into a full blush, but his frown was deep as he stared at Namjoon.

"You are both gonna wear it."

"No-" You shout, but Namjoon pointedly huffs at you, and you take the hint.

"Put the shirt on. By the end of the night, either one of you will have killed the other or you have this sorted out. Because if not, you'll end up pushing us all away. For good." Namjoon finishes with a sigh, the depth of his gaze so severe it confirms that he isn’t playing with you.

You look behind him at Jin and Hoseok, and the direction in which Jungkook had walked away. Jin and Hoseok looked deadly serious, no hint of a smile or a cackle of laughter like you'd expect.

He had a point. You knew it. But it was so hard - Jimin couldn't let things lie, and you couldn't back away from a fight when it was him you were fighting. But to see others dropping out from around you...

"Hand over the shirt."

You spin to stare at Jimin. His face was tight, jaw set and eyebrows drawn. It had dawned on him too, just how far this had gone. But he obviously didn't like the idea of it, and neither did you.

"Fine but if I do kill him I’m taking you all down with me as accessories." You sigh, reaching forward and taking the shirt from Namjoon.

“How long have you had this, Joon?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

“Long enough.”

You turn it in your hands and with a deep breath, you pull the shirt over your head, sticking your arm through the sleeve and head through the collar. Your left arm hangs loosely in the shirt, and you begin to fret about what you should do with it. Maybe you should just stick it in your pocket? You don't wanna brush anything-

Before you could follow that train of thought, Jimin tugs you and the shirt towards him. You follow, gulping thickly. He casts one last look at Namjoon before putting his head under the bottom of the shirt. within seconds his head is through the collar, his shoulder bumping yours as he tries to get comfortable.

The air is thick around you, the extra warmth of him being so close to you making the heat rise on your face. You were strongly aware of every microscopic move he makes, your senses keenly aware of his proximity. He lets out a harsh sigh, and you feel the breath ripple over the collar and down the shirt. A pout settles on his lips, glossy and wholly enticing - and entirely too close.

His face was inches from yours, shoulders stuck rigidly together as you subtly wrestle for space. The shirt was obviously made for kids, and much smaller than you had originally anticipated. Two kids would be able to almost comfortably stand side by side. You and Jimin had barely enough excess shirt, but the collar was far too small. His hand grazes mercilessly across your thigh, the hardness of his rings pressing into the material of your jeans.

You hear a click of a camera, and your attention snaps up to see Hoseok taking a photo of you both on his phone. With both you and Jimin glaring at him, he snaps another and giggles.

"One for Jungkook." He grins, before flipping his phone to you.

Instinctively you step forward to look, but the lack of space drags Jimin along with you. He crashes into your back, a steadying hand reaching out for your hip, a strangled grunt by your ear. You choke on your breath, and weakly tug at the collar as if it was the cause of your shock.

His hand is warm, the heat pulsating from his palm across your hip. If you weren't sweating before, you definitely were now. You shuffle back a little, easing the tension in the shirt that tugged tightly against you. Jimin brings up a hand and anxiously pushes his hair back from his face, his jaw set so sharply you could cut your finger on it.

"Well, there's bound to be a few teething problems but I'm sure you'll both work it out." Namjoon smiles, eyes bright and full of mischief. "Come on boys, let's give them some space."

You give Namjoon the fiercest glare you could muster before he walks away, but all he does is chuckle at you. Hoseok waves brightly whilst Jin merely winks - until soon all that remained was you and Jimin, hot, flustered and already tired of it all.

"Okay, now that they're gone-" Jimin mutters, twisting in the shirt so that his back was against you. You shuffle back as not to touch him, your mind a hazy hot mess.

Your hand dances threateningly close to his ass so you snatch it up to your chest, staring at the ceiling and holding back an agonised groan.

He brings his hands up and after a few seconds you hear a loud rip.

You snap your head to him to see that he'd ripped the collar almost to the end of the shoulder, giving you more space. You let out a breath and you both adapted to the space, but his shoulder was still brushing you. At least his face was at a less dangerous distance from yours now.

"Do... you wanna sit?" He asks quietly, A faint pinky blush crossing his cheeks. You forced your eyes away, determined not to be distracted.

"Jimin, Namjoon's gonna flip about the shirt."

"No he won't-"

"Yes, he will-"

"Ah, can we just sit?."

You huff, weighing his words before silently nodding, moving forward slowly to give him time to get his brain in gear. He stepped behind you and you shuffled around so that you wouldn't be sat under him.

"Okay sit." You order, and to your surprise he followed your words. You both crash back into the couch, his arms pressing back against you, his legs spread and pressed against yours.

You sit, the silence stretching. You finally get the smell of his cologne, the silk of his shirt sleeve brushing against your arm. It was filling your senses, and though it had only been seconds, this was stretching for an eternity.

And there were all those emotions you felt towards him, rushing to the surface, bubbling beneath your skin.

"Okay this is dumb, why are we doing this?" You grumble, slamming your head back against the cushions, desperate to be away from his heady scent.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, so you pointedly avoid meeting his gaze.

"Because we don't want to lose our friends." His voice is low, the cogs turning in his head.

"Yes I know that, but why do we have to 'sort our problems' from inside the same damn t-shirt?" You snap.

"I... don't know. But I'm not gonna lose friends. Them or you - so get used to being stuck in this shirt with me."He purses his lips in thought, but you’re struck by his words.

"Well it's you who's stuck in here with me." You snark, unable to stop yourself before you say it.

He huffs out a laugh through his nose, and you can’t help but smile. You finally meet his eyes, and like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t, he snaps his eyes away.

“So we have to like… work on our problems?”

“Apparently.” He murmurs, throwing himself back into the seat.

The temperature feels ten times hotter than when you weren’t sharing clothing. Your hair sticks to your skin and you shift uncomfortably. Everywhere you touched him felt like it was on fire, every sensor in your body and edge and firing. You force yourself to breathe, in and out. Park Jimin was not going to get the better of you.

But he seemed affected too.

His swallows are thick, adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. You could see his ringed finger tapping in his leg whilst his other hand was pushing back his hair a little more aggressively than usual.

“So uh…” He starts, but tapers off when you look at him.

“Yeah?”

The seconds tick on, the gap between you non-existent. You avert your eyes and try to focus on the crowd that swirls around you.

You couldn’t help but notice the fact that things were going well. No issues were being resolved per se, but you hadn’t fought properly for a few minutes. And for you both, that was progress. Even if every word that comes to your mind flights away, leaving the silence to stretch.

“Maybe-”

“How about-”

You both blurt words at the same time, letting out an embarrassed laugh as you squarely avoid looking at each other. The music seems louder, making it harder to think about anything that wasn’t directly in your senses. Essentially you were stuck in a Jimin lockdown.

“You go.”

“Oh, I was just going to say I’m gonna need a drink or two for this.” you confess, heat burning across your face.

“That’s… Not a bad idea actually. Let’s go to the kitchen.” Jimin rushes, a little too enthusiastically. It seems like he’s a little on edge too.

Without thinking he tries to stand up, causing you to get ruffled inside the shirt as he staggers to his feet. You’re ripped through the collar of the shirt, your face getting knocked into his hip. Your eyes widen and your breath catches in your throat as he’s slingshotted back into the chair beside you. Your head reemerges through the hole, leaving your hair vigorously disheveled.

“I-, I’m sorry!” He grits, a reddish blush bursting across his cheeks.

You bring up your hand inside the shirt to touch it to your face whilst the other tries to right whatever mess your hair had become.

“It’s fine, just, we gotta move as one.” You mumble, flicking your gaze at him.

“Agh, this isn’t gonna be easy.” He sighs, shuffling to the edge of the chair.

You take a deep breath and follow his lead. You put a tentative hand on the couch to shuffle yourself to the edge, but jimin had the same idea. He puts his hands on top of yours, but instantly snatches it back. He mumbles to himself before turning and giving you a nod. With a steadying breath you both move, almost effortlessly getting off the couch together. It takes you by surprise at how straightforward that was, until the clatter of a noise reaches your ears over the din of the music.

Following the rattle of the noise you look down, only to watch your phone skittering across the floor.

“Oh, shit.” You murmur, watching it stop out of reach. “Jimin, my phone!”

He follows your gaze to where it lays on the floor, narrowly avoiding being stepped on by dancers. Your heart flutters as people step around it, totally unaware.

“Go, go!” He mutters, placing the palm of his hand at the bottom of your back, steering you towards it.

You flush as you’re pushed through, stopping just above it. You’re both jostled by the people around you as you stand guard above your phone. People were dancing dangerously close to it,and all it would take is one drunken fool to stamp on it or you for this to end in disaster.

“Okay let’s drop, carefully this time!” you order, but Jimin scoffs at you.

“I’m trying to be careful!”

“Just don't thrash me about again, that would be nice-”

“I’m not doing it on purpose! I can if you want me to-”

“Oh my god, stop, just bend over and help me!”

“That sounds dirt-”

He starts, but before you let him manifest that in your mind you start to crouch, the force pulling him down to bump his chest into your back. The heat of him crashing into you is instant, an insatiable warmth that spreads in contact. He puts a stabilising hand on your hips as his breath rolls across the back of your neck. A shiver trickles down your body despite trying to hold it back.

“What did you do that for?” He grunts, his mouth closer to your ear as he tries to rebalance himself.

“Y- you’re taking too long trying to argue!”

He presses himself off your back and shuffles down beside you. You finally get crouched on the floor, tentative hands placed on the sticky surface to stop you from toppling over. Jimin crouches next to you, his body facing yours with his leg behind you, tight against your back. It was hard to stay focused with him pressed against you like that, but you know he was just trying to stay stable. So why were you blushing so hard?

Carefully you reach out, your fingers just brushing the edge of the phone. You’re just able to get your fingers over the edge when you’re slammed from the side. Your phone is knocked out of your reach once more as you’re thrown onto Jimin, both of you landing in a tangled heap.

You let out a yelp as you’re falling, the impact to the side of you bristling with shock. His back hits the floor and you land awkwardly, right on top of him.

“Watch what you’re doing, you moron!” Jimin snaps after your head slaps onto his shoulder.

Your heart slams erratically against your chest, his words stinging. You’d come to blows many more times than you can imagine, but he’d never spoken to you in that way, not ever.

“God, I’m sorry.” you murmur, pressing yourself up off his chest, your face practically aflame.

“What? Oh, no no, not you! Whichever idiot smacked into you. Are you alright?“ He asks, his fingers gently gripping your chin and turning you gently in his hands.

Your eyes are wide as he stares at you, your fingers twitching on the silk covering his chest. Once he’s satisfied that you’re okay, he softly releases you. You bring your gaze back to his, beads of sweat rolling down your face.

Jimin looks down to his hand and back up to you after realising what he had just done, before he clenches his fist closed and puts it down to his side. His forehead is creased, his face burning bright.

“We should… ah, should get your phone.” His voice is low, barely audible above the music. But you hear him all the same, stealing your hand back from his chest.

You swallow thickly, stabilizing yourself as you crouched back on your own two feet. Your phone isn’t too far out of reach, but just beyond the touch of your fingertips. You strain, tugging Jimin along behind you. His throat is pulled against your shoulder, but it was no good, you still needed the stretch.

“Hold on.” You mumble, slipping your head out from underneath the collar.

You keep your arm inside the shirt sleeve for plausible deniability - you’d never be able to lie to Namjoon if he asks if you stayed in. But you pull your head out from the bottom of the shirt and reach out, gripping your phone and snatching it up. You shove it in your deepest pocket of your jeans and pat it, relieved.

You crawl back to Jimin and try to climb back into the shirt. He throws the bottom over your head and you push it through - only to slam your head into his arm.

“Ah, sorry!” You yelp, trying to push yourself past him.

He tries to guide your head back up through the collar but manages to get his rings caught in your hair. You yelp at the tug, your hands flying up to untangle him.

“Sorry, sorry!” He shouts, bringing his other hands up to slide his rings off altogether.

Once they’re off his fingers it’s easier to free your hair. With the rings tucked safely in his pocket and with gentle easing, Jimin moves your head up to the collar of the shirt. You rapidly brush your hair out of your face and look at him out of the corner of your eye.

He’s flustered, roughly pushing the hair that sticks to his sweaty forehead back. His lips are parted and his eyes are fixed away from you.

Briefly, the thought of just running away from him crossed your mind. There’d be no more issues if you never saw his face again. No more embarrassment! Of course it was a silly idea, but it would be better than getting the opportunity to make yourself look like an idiot again.

You huff out a breath, blotting your damp forehead with the back of your hand. Your brush with the floor had left your clothes feeling sticky, and your brush against Jimin had set everything else on fire. You needed some fresh ai-

“It’s too hot for this, I need some air.” Jimin shifts in his spot, gesturing to the backdoor that was through the kitchen and blocked by a thick group of party goers. You follow the direction he points and nod enthusiastically.

“I wanna grab some water too.” You murmur. Ignoring his presence.

The people that stood between the cloying heat that you and Jimin were trapped in and the cooler climate outside were dense. You’d have to fight through, but the reward of fresher air to clear your head of Jimin was too tantalising.

With a look at Jimin, he motions with his hand for you to proceed. You roll your eyes at the gesture but you take a cautious step forward, slow and deliberate.

You started pushing your way through, bodies warm and fluid as you tried to champion the way. Jimin got ganged much closer to you, practically pressing into your back as you moved. You focus on finding a path ahead, ignoring the beads of sweat that form in your hairline.

Something had changed between you. This is the closest you had been together, the most you had touched, the longest you had been alone. And you wanted to hate it. You certainly hated how messy he must think you are. But you didn’t. A trickle of something different slides down your body, all your attention focused on his hand on you.

The music changes to something even louder and riles the crowd up. With a swell of movements in the dancers you’re sent flying, knocked by some erratic dancer’s elbow. With the force of the shirt Jimin is dragged with you, crashing into your back and pinballing you against another person.

Subconsciously you turn back to him - but as soon as you’re pressed together, you realise how big a mistake that was.

Stomach to stomach, his face is barely an inch or two from yours. His fingers wrap around your wrist, chest rising and falling as you stare at him.

The sweat that had rolled down his face had reached his throat, dropping down the column and hovering at his apple. The minutest of smirks pulls at his lips, and you realise you’ve been caught.

He swallows, purposely. The bead rolls the rest of the way down his throat, dropping below his necklace before disappearing down the neckline of his shirt. The silk was clinging to his skin in the heat, and it took every ounce of dignity you had not to look down. You could see in your periphery, and that was more than enough. The man was hot, in every sense.

Your eyes flick back up, a different kind of heat burning up your face. You anxiously lick your lips, eyes finally meeting his. He has an eyebrow propped, a smugness radiating that let your blood boil. But his gaze drops to your mouth, watching your tongue gloss across your lip before looking back up. You can feel his breath hit your chest as his cheeks flushed more than they ever had. Now you were the one to have an audience.

Maybe this was it - the answer. You just needed a moment for everything to click, you could reach an understanding! It had nothing to do with how his stare left you feeling like you could burst in every way possible. Or that his pupils seemed to be blown wide, big enough for you to swim in. His fingers were hot against your wrist, and it felt almost as if his pinky was tracing the tiniest circles into your skin-

“I need the bathroom.”

The words are blurted loudly in your face, and for a moment you forget what reality is.

“I- what?”

“Bathroom. Gotta go. Bathroom stuff.” Jimin splutters.

Before you can respond - not that you knew how to - he turns from you. His hand still holds your wrist as he pulls you through the crowd, uncaring as to who he pushes aside. All you can do is stare at the back of his hair and be lead.

“Jimin what the hell?!” You yell, ignoring the glares of the nosy partiers.

Your voice is lost, muffled by loud music and Jimin's deaf focus. You finally break free from the throng of people but your journey doesn't end. You're being whipped past busy rooms until you hit the staircase. The odd person watches you in fascination, some even snickering at what was written so plainly in glitter on the shirt. you felt your face burn, and make a silent note to fight Namjoon at the soonest opportunity.

He begins scurrying up the staircase, and with your wrist still firmly in his iron grip, you're soon flying up behind him. He casts a shifty look behind him to check you were still attached, his face flushed but his eyes focused. You have to remember to regulate your breathing.

"God, careful!" You snap, almost stumbling on the top step.

He doesn't acknowledge that he hears you, but then he slows for a second before darting down the winding corridor. He rushes into one of the rooms, a sprawling guest bedroom, before finally letting your wrist drop from his grip. It was almost bigger than your entire place, with an ensuite and even a door leading out to a balcony.

You close the door behind you before Jimin drags you towards the ensuite. Once he's at the open door he pulls his arms through the sleeve and slips out from the shirt. You know you're in the privacy of a bedroom but you suddenly get nervous, eyes turning to the bedroom door.

"We're gonna get in trouble." You murmur. Namjoon is a mind reader, you’d stake your life on it - he'll know you're separated and find you.

"You gotta relax. We're not gonna be spotted through floors and walls. Unless you wanna come in here with me?" He asks, that trademark smirk pulling at his lips. Your stomach flutters, but it is a relief to have a flash of the jimin who pushes your buttons back.

"I -wha- no! Just hurry up, god." You splutter, turning your back to him.

"I won't be long."

With that he saunters back, his cheeks blown out as he sighs, and finally closes the door for some sweet separation. You step back and move to the balcony - the door was unlocked so you push it open and finally breathe.

The air is still warm, but instant relief from being cooped up inside with Jimin washes over you. You close your eyes and soak up the moment of peace, the shirt hanging off your solitary frame.

Your brain was barely processing the situation you were both in. It was enough being stuck in the same item of clothing as someone, but with Jimin? It was hard.

But then again, it was also easy. It was too easy to get wrapped up in him, to be so close, to let yourself be taken with him. It was a place you had hoped to be before, and somewhere you couldn’t go.

You and Jimin were tumultuous. You weren’t sure why it had to be that way. It’s not like either of you were toxic or nasty people - so why did you have to make a stand on everything? Why does every time you stand off with him make the hairs on your neck stand up, make your heart beat so fast in your chest you swear he could hear it?

Maybe it was because you did, after all this time, like him.

You're snapped out of your thoughts by an erratic knocking at the door. You dart your eyes to it as if you could see through the solid wood, your heart in your throat.

"Y/N? Jimin? You there?" Namjoon calls through the door, and you swear under your breath.

"One second!" You cry, scrambling back from the door and scurry to the ensuite.

"Jimin! Open up!" You whisper at him, your voice a hurried rasp.

"What?"

"I'm coming in!" You wait a few seconds just in case, and then finally throw the door open.

"Y?N!" Jimin yells, scrambling back against the basin.

He was standing with his silk shirt in his hands, His lips parted in shock as he stares at you. His chest was heaving, the faintest glimmer of abs visible behind the thin fabric. Your face was burning almost as much as his, your jaw dropping. His hair was tousled, strands covering his wide eyes as he stared at you.

"Wh... Why are you topless?" Your breath is barely above a whisper as you fight to keep your eyes on his face.

"It's so hot!”

“I’m hot! Do you see me taking my clothes off?” You rush, using every ounce of restraint in your body to not lick your lips.

The thought of you and Jimin taking your clothes off together flashed through your mind and you internally screamed at yourself. This was not the time to unpack that, though you’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before.

“Wah- uh, you... I was trying to cool dow- why are you barging in here?!" He rushes, taking a hasty step towards you. To have to sort through your frazzled thoughts before you remember why you were there in the first place.

"Namjoon! He's at the door!" As if to accentuate your point, Namjoon raps on the door again, calling out to you both.

"Agh!" Jimin cries, rushing forward and grabbing the hem of the shirt you still wore.

He begins to get into it as he pushes you towards the door. You could feel the horror fill your veins as the heat of his body slips in beside you, his hand at the small of your back as he guides you. Your arm brushes against his bare hip, the skin hot and smooth. You snatch your arm up and hold it against your chest as if burned and ignore the rapid change in your breathing.

"Why haven't you put your shirt on?!" You whisper, but he just huffs.

"To save time, Now show me your pretty smile and let's get rid of him so I can get dressed." Jimin's hand is on the door, and all you can do is stare at him, eyes wild.

"My wha-"

The door flies open, but you're still staring at Jimin. Pretty...?

"Well hello." Namjoon is leant against the doorframe, arms crossed as he gives you both a crooked grin. His eyes flicker to the room behind you, his eyes landing on the bed just beyond you both.

"Just needed the bathroom." Jimin rushes, hand once again settling in his hair.

"I didn't ask." His voice is light, but his eyes are fierce as he scans you both thoroughly.

"You were thinking about it, though." Jimin mutters. He tries to cross his arms at Namjoon, but with one arm under the shirt and one over he soon drops it. Your gaze was still stuck on him though. Pretty?

"How's the shirt working out, you both talking?" Namjoon asks, and you finally snap your attention to him. He's already watching you and raises an eyebrow. You scramble to stamp down your emotions, despite every nerve in your body sizzling.

"Oh yeah, we’re the best of friends now, right JimJam?" Your voice is bubblegum sweet, giving Jimin the goofiest smile you could muster.

"Totally! We've been braiding our hair and sharing juicy stories. We're basically besties."

Jimin beams at Namjoon, before stepping close and wrapping an arm around your waist to hug you. It was all part of the charade, of course. But as you're pulled back against his chest, you swear your heart could explode. His hand sits lightly on your hip, his every breath rolling down your neck. It didn’t matter that the move was practically hidden under the shirt.

"Yeah..." you laugh, but it's more of a choke as you pat his hand over the shirt and avoid meeting Namjoon's probing gaze.

Jimin clears his throat awkwardly behind you, his finger twitching on your hip. The heat between you swealters, every inch of your skin electric against his body.

Namjoon's eyes flick between you. You could see his thoughts brewing but they never pass his lips. Instead you and Jimin wait, his hands singeing your skin where they rested, his bare chest like fire against you.

"Well, I can see you're obviously working on something. But until you're actually convincing, you can stay in that shirt." He shrugs, grin widening across his face. With a final flick of his eyes, he pushes off the door frame and heads back towards the stairs.

"This is ridiculous Namjoon!" You yell at his back, crossing your arms across your stomach.

"Maybe - but you're both still wearing it." He smirks back over his shoulder.

You yell incoherent words at his back before huffing out a breath. Your fingers twitch in anger, putting a stubborn hand on your hip, the skin hot under your touch.

Faintly you realise the contact isn’t registering on your hip, and it isn’t until Jimin loosens his grip on you that you realise your hand had been resting on his. His hands fall from your body as he shuffles away, swallowing a throaty gulp.

You couldn’t look at him. It was all fun and games to begin with- oh, who were you kidding? This had been sucky, but something had shifted. You needed air, a chance to breathe, to not be tethered to the man that seems to haunt you.

“Need air.” Your voice a rasp as you step back into the room.

Jimin barely shuts the bedroom door before you’re marching to the balcony, not caring about whether you drag him along or not. Once you’re outside you heave in a breath, letting the air fill your lungs.

“That was too close.” You murmur, fiddling with the hem of the shirt.

“How was I supposed to know Namjoon would be keeping tabs?”

“I’m not blaming you Jimin! Why are you making this into an argument too?” You snap, your eyes fixed on the treeline on the edge of the property.

You feel him wriggling aggressively next to you, only to look back and see him climbing out of the shirt. You watch in horror as he slips out from under the sickly yellow material, keeping his bare back to you.

“What are you doing?” You yelp, scanning over the edge of the balcony for any sight of your friends. They couldn’t see you apart, they would never trust either of you again.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re meant to be working this out from inside the same ugly shirt-”

“No not right now. I mean, kind of. I just… Why did we let it get this far?”

You let his words hang in the air, your thoughts scattered. The thump of the music below drifts up to you, the mass of partygoers that stood out in the gardens laughing and chatting loudly. It seemed a world away from the tension that fills the air between you and Jimin.

He turns back to you with a look on his face so intense you can’t place it. But you could tell he was tightly wound - his shoulders were squared and his jaw was tight. He avoids making eye contact with you for as long as he can. But when he finally does, it was too easy to get lost in what you see there.

“We just argue, I guess.” you shrug, averting your eyes from his chest and stomach. This wasn’t the time to be fawning over him. It was hard - he was beautiful, there was no escape from that. It’s one of a million reasons you had liked him in the first place.

“You can't tell me you’re happy with that explanation.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

“Of course I’m not but what do you want me to say? You don’t like me, you’ve made that plain enough. Not everyone gets along.”

You bite your lip, admitting the words you’d been too scared to think out loud. But when you hear a faint gasp, your eyes shoot up to his face. His lips are parted, a look of abject shock written on his delicate features.

I d- I do like you.” His voice is so quiet you can barely hear him. But you do, and the words strike deep.

You can’t open yourself up to this right now. Namjoon will find a way to know that you’re both separated, and the rest of the guys will drift away. You want to be civil with Jimin, not have your entire soul bared open to him. You couldn’t survive that.

“Can you please put your shirt back on?” You mumble, your eyes laser-focused imploringly on his face, but he doesn't hear you, barrelling on.

“It’s not like I enjoy arguing with you!”

“Then why are you making it so difficult?” Your voice cracks, the hurt of your never ending battles threatening to surface.

“Do you know how hard it is to get your attention-“ he starts, his fast flow of words immediately cut off as he gawks at you, delicate fingers slamming over his lips.

“What?” You blurt, processing his words.

“No no, nothing! Forget it.” he shakes his hands at you, eyes wide and face blushing a deep pink.

“Jimin! What do you mean, get my attention?”

“I… yeah. We’re always with the guys, I guess I didn’t know how else to get you to focus on me.”

“Why?” Your voice is faint, a million thoughts crashing in your head.

“No, forget it!”

“Jimin!”

“Ah, I like you, okay?”

The air around you thickens, the distance between you a thousand miles yet still too close. Your heart thumps rapidly in your chest, your eyes wide as saucers and your skin prickled with goosebumps.

“You- huh?”

“I… like you. A lot. It happened pretty quickly.” He sighs, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Why have you never told me?"

"Because it's humiliating as hell?" He laughs bitterly, his eyes darting to anywhere but you.

"Jimin..."

"No seriously. If I had told you, you'd reject me because why wouldn't you? All we do is argue."

"You think I'd reject you?" You ask, voice quiet as you step closer to him. His gaze finally snaps back to you at your movement.

"I mean, I... yeah?"

He runs a hand roughly over his face, turning his back to you. He looks so flawless in the moonlight. But he always looked flawless to you. Watching him fret like this was something so alien to you, but so human, so Jimin. You couldn’t let him suffer these feelings alone.

"Well, I wouldn't have." You mumble.

“You- what?”

Your brain scrambles, your heart hammering in your throat. He stares at you, wide eyes and chest heaving as if he was winded. Swallowing thickly you press on, despite the fear that churns in your gut.

“I wouldn’t reject you, Jimin. I… uh. I like you too.” You fiddle awkwardly with the hem of the stupid shirt.

The whole scenario had you feeling like a girl going through a childhood crush again. Though last time you had a crush on a boy who was fighting with you, you punched him in the nose. It was doubtful that would work this time around-

“Jimin?” You ask, watching as he shrinks back on himself.

You watch as he breathes, his chest rising and falling, the rapidly cooling night air raising goosebumps across his skin. It was hard to keep your brain on track.

After a moment he meets your gaze with a softness so potent it was enough to choke you.

In two steps he was on you, his lips crashing against yours. Your entire body threatens to shut down, the shock rippling through you. Before you even had a second to comprehend how good his lips felt against yours he pulls back, fear in his eyes as he worries.

You know then what you want. Who you want. You wondered why you wasted so long arguing to get it.

With your blood thrashing violently in your veins you reach your hands out to his face, caressing the smooth skin of his cheek before you surge forwards. The feel of the gloss on his lips smudges as you let yourself be consumed, the slightest hint of cherry seeping in.

Kissing Park Jimin. You. You’re kissing him. Your eyes slam shut as you sink into him, electricity crackling on your skin.

With no doubt in his mind at all Jimin slides his hands to your hips, fingers curling into the shirt as he moves you back, pushing you into the wall. You moan into his kiss, and he smirks against your lips. To trip him up you press the kiss deeper, letting the tip of your tongue dance at his pretty lips, wanting to taste him.

He does you one better, turning the tides and pressing the kiss back to you, tongue flicking to you.

Just like normal, you weren’t one to back down from Jimin.

Letting a hand move into his silken hair, you brush it back the way you’d seen him do a thousand times. But instead of letting your hands fall out of the soft locks, you let the strands wind around your fingers and give it a tug.

Jimin lets out a low groan, breaking the kiss to pant against your lips. Pride flows through you, but so did a sense of admiration - it was something you wanted to hear from that pretty mouth over and over.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Y/N.” He whispers, tugging sharply on the shirt so that your body was flat against his.

You try to not let the gasp from you come out too loud, the lines of his body startlingly apparent as you’re pressed together.

“You think that scares me?”

At your words he smiles. It spreads slowly, but soon his whole face is alight, brightness shining out of him. With his fingers at the hem of the massive shirt, he gives you a filthy giggle before kneeling and slipping himself inside of the material.

“What are you doing?” You yelp, feeling the familiar sensation of being stuck in the stupid shirt with him again. But it was different too, it wasn’t suffocating like before.

His head popped back up through the ripped collar, grin still annoyingly plastered across his face.

“Shouldn’t you be trying to get me out of this shirt, Park Jimin?” You whisper, breathless as he presses you back against the wall.

“I can’t deny that you have too many clothes on.” He smirks, delicate fingers sliding up your shirt to rest on your hot skin. “But there’s something… ah, satisfying about having you in this shirt.”

“Seriously?”

“What’s the matter Y/N, don’t think you can handle it?” His fingers circle agonisingly slow on your hips, a mischievous glint catching in his eye. He knows you so well.

“You’re gonna be the one who can’t handle it.”

“Prove it.”

You almost growl at him as he presses your buttons, but the burning in you meets the heat in your stomach. You need him more than ever.

You pull him back against you by the hair, crushing your lips together once more. He moans into you, nails pressing into your hips as your lips collide. You roll your hips against him, the fire in your veins white hot as he stutters against you. He breaks your kiss to gasp needily, eyes shut tight as your stomach brushes against the bulge in his tight jeans.

His eyes finally open, unfocused and swimming. But after a second he fixes his gaze on you, determined. A flicker of anticipation fills you, awaiting retribution.

His fingers move from your skin to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up until you have to help him. The shirt you were sharing was making it difficult, and you start to regret ever letting him get his way. But as soon as you are free he presses back into you, his hot skin flush against yours, his fingers idly tracing the straps of your bra.

Just with the gentle brush of his fingertips he nudges the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising along his trail. He presses his lips to your cheek, pecking slow, soft kisses across your cheekbone as he moves towards your ear. You sigh as his mouth moves lower, plump lips pressing dainty kisses down your neck. With you swept up, his hands move behind you and unclip your bra.

A gasp passes your lips while his own are still planted at your neck, sucking on a soft spot there. Your bra slides off your body, landing with a quiet thud on the floor of the balcony.

His fingers find their way back to your hips, slowly caressing their way up. An excited shiver catches you, and you feel him laugh against your skin. His warm hands find your breasts, thumbs rubbing over the soft skin before finding your nipples.

You suck in a breath as he kisses back up your neck. He pauses to capture your lips again, lulling you into him as his thumbs brush out across your nipples.

With your staccato breathing he smirks once more into your skin. Not one to ever be outmanoeuvred by Jimin, you decide it’s time to flip the switch.

You purposefully run your fingers down his stomach, featherlight and teasing. He hitches his breath, mouth detaching from your neck as he waits, anticipating your every move. His hot breath rolls down your neck, rippling off your chest. You hide a smirk in his hair and focus on your goal.

Letting your fingers rest on his belt buckle - no doubt something obnoxiously expensive - you begin to undo him as slow as you possibly could. You slide it off, inching it so little that you could feel him get restless against you.

“You’re a nightmare.” He whispers, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“I’m just savouring the moment.” You offer softly, the soft clinks of the buckle resting against his thigh.

“You’ll pay if you tease me like this.” His voice is high, airy. The voice of a man in complete control - though you knew that was far from the truth.

“Mm, sure Jimin.” You smirk, bringing a hand up between you to his face.

You angle him back up to kiss you, which he does with ferocity. You smile into him, the power to provoke him rich in your veins.

Your hand sinks back to his belt, and with him distracted you pull it off him fast, dumping it somewhere on the floor and popping the button of his jeans. He gasps into your kiss, fingers automatically flexing across your breasts. You hold your reaction to yourself, intent on giving nothing away until you are ready.

You tug down his zipper, pressing it back onto him so he feels the teeth unclipping against his boxers. You knew they were gonna be some annoyingly expensive brand too, but the thought of getting him to ruin them for you was intoxicating. He leans his forehead against yours, the desperation rising his face palpable.

With a sharp tug you drop his jeans to his mid-thigh before moving your fingers back to him, running teasingly around his waistband. You didn’t have to look under the shirt to know his boxers were tented, his erection straining against the fabric. You dip a finger just below his waistband, tracing along the lines of his hips. He lets out a choked breath, hips subconsciously bucking into you.

“Y/N…”

“What?” You ask sweetly, moving your fingers to brush along his pubic bone. Your knuckles barely graze the base of his shaft, but he lets out a murmur of swear words as his eyes flicker.

Not one to be overshadowed for long, Jimin lets his hands drop to your hips and immediately flies to your zipper. He presses his crotch into you, and you feel just how hard he is for you. With a flapping mouth you watch him, challenging eyebrow raised.

Everything was a game. One that you were intent on winning.

Plucking at your courage, you slide a hand back down, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. His hips stutter in your hand, a gush of air forcing out of his lungs.

He felt good in your hand - really good. Firm skin, warm and pulsing in your hand. You experimentally ran a finger along his underside, tracing the vein all the way to his tip. He lets himself go then, head thrown back, eyes tightly clasped. A low groan rumbles from his throat, his fingers stilling on your zip.

“Feel good?” You whisper, pressing your lips to his.

“Ah, mm…” Is all he can manage as his head falls back.

He’s totally lost in your touch, and you’d barely started. A ripple of excitement darts through you, the sight of having Park Jimin needy and in your hands was too powerful to overlook.

A small giggle falls from your lips, the tiniest of noises. But it’s enough to spur him back to reality with his dark eyes finally refocusing on you.

He takes a breath to center himself before pulling down your jeans slowly. You feel the material slide over your hips and sit above your knees. Your panties quickly follow, thrust down faster than you can blink.

He lets a hand drag back up your thigh, running across to where you want his hand the most. Your touch on him falters as anticipation runs through your body. Ever so slowly he lets a finger stroke across your slit, barely grazing your skin. You wrap your free arm over his shoulder, taking a grip of his soft hair.

He smiles at you, and you let your eyes drag across his face. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth at your scrutiny. You can’t help but admire him: the way his lipgloss is smudged up across his cupid’s bow, the sweat that seemed to be dribbling so aesthetically down his sharp jaw, the blown out pupils of his deep eyes. Your breath catches in your throat as you soak him in - and that’s when he decides to strike.

He slips his fingers between your folds, feeling how wet you are for him, before sliding his fingers up to your clit. He applies only the slightest bit of pressure but it’s enough to have you gasping at his touch. He lets out a soft moan as he feels you, letting his fingers move in the tiniest circles.

You slowly rock your hips on his fingers, knotting your own in his hair. You instinctively flex your hand only to have his hips instinctively thrust his cock into your hand.

Deciding to move things on just a little, you move back just enough to see his cock in your hand. His eyes flutter open at your movements, only to blow wide when he sees a trail of spit drop from your lips onto his tip. You catch it with your thumb and rub it into his tip, rolling it down his length.

A low moan leaves him, his free hand coming up to wipe your bottom lip ever so delicately. You meet his eyes, a fire burning there just for you. He drags you into a kiss, his hand scrunching in your hair.

His hand start to move again, circling you and getting into a slow rhythm on your clit. You moan into his kiss, starting your movements too until both of you were breathless messes.

The kisses became scattered and sloppier as you both let your hands work. The delicate touch of his fingers was enough to blur your vision, and your firm grip that was growing in speed on his length rendered him weak in your hands.

His own hand moves deftly, nimble fingers moving between circling your needy clit to running through your wetness. His jaw slackens each time he feels how wet you are for him, pride drifting somewhere in his lust-blown eyes.

Jimin is slick under your grasp, rock hard as you twist up and down his length. Staggered gasps fall from his lips, getting more and more careless as you drag him higher.

His circling gets a little more pressure, and it’s enough to send your head lulling back, barely able to focus on the task literally in hand. You returned his zeal, putting an extra squeeze on his length. The choke that passes his lips sends pride through your already thrashing veins. His face twitches; his forehead creases, pretty lips part slightly further, eyebrows jolt. You know he’s close, and you have the power in your hands.

But he has you, too. The pressure pulsing from your core builds, your eyes slamming shut as you're barely able to form words. You can feel it rising, teetering on the edge of something good-

-until he jerks his fingers from you. You whimper at the loss of his fingers, orgasms skittering disappointingly away from you. Your eyes open as you snap your bereft gaze to him.

“Fuck, Y/N, too quick-“ he murmurs, grabbing hold of your wrist and gently pulling your hand of his throbbing cock.

“Jimin?”

He’s fully flushed, strands of silken hair stuck to his forehead. His chest rises and falls rapidly with his chest, eyes wild.

“I don’t wanna cum just yet.”

“What if I wanted you to-“

“Don’t argue with me on this,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your lips. But then his voice drops low, lips pulled into a deadly smirk. “I have to make you cum first.”

You barely have a second to swallow down a gasp before you’re pulled from the wall to crash against his lips.

You hold him against you with the collar of the shirt you were still trapped in, matching his energy as he kisses you desperately. Your hands are held tight against his chest, his cock resting teasingly against your stomach.

His hands let go of you to grab your hips, steering your towards the edge of the balcony.

Once you're spun he pushes you gently, bending you over to lean against the railing. Forgetting that you’re stuck in the same damn shirt, he gets yanked down with you, body flush against your back. He lets out a tiny giggle into the back of your neck and it’s as if your heart could stop from the sound.

The cool of the metal railing presses into your chest, hands bracing it through the shirt. You look to the party happening below, guests hovering out in the garden to escape the heat of the sweaty party. You were pretty well out of sight - as long as nobody looked up.

“There’s quite a few people down there.” Jimin’s lips are by your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

“Don’t think you can make me loud enough? That’s a shame.” You smirk, unable to stop teasing him.

“You’re gonna regret those words baby.”

The pet name strikes deep within you. It’s perfect coming from Jimin, warmth radiating across your body. And you couldn’t blame that one on the heat.

Jimin presses his body onto your back, thick erection settling just above your cheeks. You feel the heat of his hand smooth from your thigh round to the front of you. He takes a few swipes across your clit to make you jerk beneath him before his fingers drift further back.

He swirls a finger around your waiting hole, agonizingly slow. You gasp at him, pushing your hips back into him. His shaft brushes against your cheeks and you can hear him suck in a desperate breath. Spurred on by his own need, he dips his finger gradually inside.

It’s slow, pushing past his knuckle until his finger sits inside you. You feel your walls pulse around him, desperate for more. His hand stills, taking his time to pepper kisses behind your ear. He nips playfully at your lobe, taking his sweet time with each movement.

You know he’s doing it to make you suffer. And god were you suffering, using every ounce of restraint to not whine for him.

Slowly he turns his finger so it sits better inside of you. The graze of his knuckle causes you to moan, and you feel him smirk into your skin.

“That’s what I was waiting for.”

He slowly begins to pump into you. It’s instantly better than his stationary finger, but still agonizingly slow. You needed him, harder and faster.

“Jimin…” you whine, pushing your rear back into him. He tuts into your ear, stilling his fingers.

“You need to let go, Y/N. I’ve got you.” He punctuates his point by kissing a trail along your shoulder.

You bite your lip, his words hitting a little deeper than just him getting you off. You always had to be in control of yourself around Jimin - you had to win, had to be alert. You couldn’t let your emotions get hold of you.

But it was all out in the open now. He knew how you felt - and he feels the same too. Maybe you can let go, just a little. It didn’t mean you had to start losing arguments any time soon, though.

You nod, turning your head to where he was pressing kisses into your skin. He beams at you, eyes scrunching as he surges up to catch your lips.

His movements cause his thumb to brush across your clit, and you moan wantonly into him. He pulls away to peer over the balcony, the loud noise escaping you both. You follow his gaze, but you’d drawn no attention. Not yet anyway-

He looks back at you and winks, the move cheeky and completely Jimin but he silences by pulling his finger almost completely out of you. Your jaw drops at the sensation, but just as quickly he pushes it back inside you, as far as he can go.

You bite the collar of the shirt to muffle your noise. His skin was still hot against yours, a sheen of sweat building on your forehead as you focused on him.

Mercifully he begins to fuck his finger in you, curling inside you. You inhale sharply through your nose, eyes shut tight as you let yourself go.

He carries on for a few more pups before he lets a second finger coat in your wetness. On the next thrust into you, he gently presses in a second finger, and you feel yourself clamp down at the stretch. Jimin keeps pressing kisses against your skin, but he gets breathless, his own erection pressing tauntingly at your back.

He sits his fingers for just a few seconds, letting you get used to him before he works them back out of you. In and out, in and out. He’s slow again, teasing you to the point of madness. You groan in frustration, but it was just what he was waiting for.

He thrusts his fingers deep into you, fucking you fast. Your hips roll to meet his pumps, the drag of him inside you delicious.

He brings up two fingers to your lips, and instinctively you take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits. You make sure to meet his eye as you run your tip up the crack between his fingers, eliciting a groan from him and a buck of his hips against you.

He pulls them from your mouth and moves them between your legs. His fingers find your clit, and to match the rhythm that he was fingering into you, he begins to circle your needy bud.

It pushes you over the edge, almost literally. You cling onto the balcony as you’re thrust into it, Jimin sucking marks into your neck. You groan, the contact all over your body making you weak. The wet noises that surround you are pure sin, making you bite down on your lip. Jimin groans into your skin, teeth sinking softly into your shoulder as his fingers work fast.

“Fuck!” You yelp as his fingers brush your soft spot inside.

You slap a hand over your mouth as you stare down into the garden below, fear icy in your veins as you hope you’re not spotted.

Jimin doesn’t stop though. He hides his head in your neck, thrusting his fingers faster now that he knows your weak spot.

A few people below scan around them for the source of the swearing, but thankfully none of them think to look up. You bite your lip, eyes closing as you let yourself fall back into Jimin.

“That was a close one, huh?” He whispers, a lilt of a giggle in his voice.

“Shut up.” You murmur, voice cracking as he circles your clit so well you almost see stars.

“That’s no way to talk to the man who’s got two fingers deep in your-“

“Fuck, Jimin please!” You gasp, his next words dancing at the front of your mind.

The circles on your clit get defter, pressure hitting you just right as your hips start to roll uncontrollably. You grip tightly at the railing, unable to stop the flow of moans that echo from you. Being spotted from below is less important as you can feel your orgasm rising, your legs feeling weak underneath you.

Your skin prickles from the heat generating between your bodies, Jimin’s hot breath rolling across your neck as you flush harder.

“I’m gonna...” you whimper, your words lost to pleasure.

“Cum baby, all over my fingers.” His whisper sends shivers through you, a welcome change to the heat that dribbles down your temples.

He curls his fingers on every thrust to bring you closer to the precipice. You push back against him furiously, riding his fingers and your knuckles turn white on the railings. You feel it coil in your stomach, and you know you’re so close.

“Let go Y/N.” He whispers, breath ragged from exertion, but still peppering your marked skin with tiny kisses. You screw your eyes shut as you embody his words, letting yourself give in to the feeling.

“Jimin!”

Your orgasm crashes around you, a litany of swear words moan from your lips. Your walls clench down on Jimin’s fingers, twitching under his fingertips. You slam your hand over your mouth as your moans subside, wide eyes scanning the crowd below.

Heads turn in your direction, and before you can begin to scramble Jimin pulls you back from the balcony to stand flush against him. Your heart pounds in your chest, but the thrill that runs through your veins is undeniable.

He finally pulls his fingers out of you, the gush of wetness and noise make your face heat up. He wraps that arm across your chest and holds you against him, a wide grin wrinkling his eyes. You kiss him, soft and delicate, plump lips locking with yours.

Once you pull back he grins again, before moving the fingers that were in you towards his lips. your mouth parts as you watch him slip the digits inside, taking his time to suck off the taste of you. A light whimper leaves you as you watch him finally slide them out from between your lips with a pop, devilish glint in his eye.

Witha shiver you turn in his grip, pushing him firmly back against the wall.

He hisses lightly as his back hits it, and hisses louder as you're bungied in the shirt against him. He lets out a laugh and you do the same as you right yourself. But you can't keep yourself away from him as your lips are on his again. You flick your tongue at his, the taste of you on him.

“Wanna be inside you...” he whispers between kisses, his hot fingers idling their way up and down your sides. You groan at his words, nodding dreamily at him.

“God, yes please.” you sigh, feeling his lips trace kisses along your jaw.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smiles against your skin, grabbing you by the hips and spinning you both.

He pushes you back against the wall, the bite of the wood pressing into your skin.

“I’ve never heard you so passive.” He laughs, thumb and finger coming up to gently grip your chin. You grin at him, a flutter in your stomach.

“Don’t get used to it Park Jimin.”

He tips his head back to laugh, a pinky flush hot on his cheeks. All you can do is watch in awe, soak him in as he glows in the moonlight. But then he looks back down at you with the stars in his eyes and you realise that, yes - this is what you had wanted all along.

You bring his lips crashing back down to yours, letting your fingers knot in his dark hair and you touch him, drink him in. The silken strands flit through your fingers, and you idly think to yourself about him running his own hands through it. You can see why he does it now.

His thumb strokes across your chin, gently pulling your face from his. You open your eyes to look at him, the flush on his face even brighter.

“Ready?”

“Give it your best shot.” you smile, peppering his jaw with kisses.

You’re stopped in your tracks when he hoists one of your legs over his hip, a teasing eyebrow raised at you. Not to be bested, you hook your leg over his ass and pull him against you. You feel his erection sit against your stomach, hard and leaking onto your skin.

He takes hold of himself and strokes across your wet slit, coating himself. A withered sigh escapes your lips as you watch his frown deepen. His face contorts as he concentrates, teasing himself just as much as he was you. You lean forward to let a trail of spit fall from your lips and drip down onto him, coating his cock even more. You don’t know what possessed you to do it again, but the way he stuttered in a gasp made it well worth it.

Then with an agonisingly slow pace, he begins to press himself just inside you. Your mind clears, all that you can see and feel is Jimin. You had waited long enough.

A wimpery sigh strangles from you, Jimin pressing against your walls until he is fully seated in you. He was so warm, stretching you in all the right places, as close to you as he could physically be.

You give him an encouraging squeeze with your leg. He takes the hint and slowly starts to pull out of you, hair flopping in front of his eyes as he looks down to watch himself pull out of you. The drag of him is good, too good, as you let a warble of noises fall out of your mouth. He doesn't seem to mind though, his focus transfixed elsewhere.

"Jimin..." you whisper, fingers digging into his skin as he slowly begins to reach a rhythm.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, any mischievous glint in him gone. He was a man on a mission now, aiming to make you feel as good as possible. You could feel that in every stroke, the way he let you feel the length of him drag almost fully out before he pushes back inside you.

You start to roll your hips back at him, determined to not let him have all the fun. The tentative thrust of your hips had his head snap up to you, a fresh sheen of sweat glowing on his skin. You try to play it off coolly - another attempt to throw him off his game - but he squeezes your ass cheeks and holds himself deep in you, and your resolve melts away.

"Don't start something you can't finish." He smirks, and despite the need to fight him bubbling in you, you tip your head back and laugh.

"I guess that applies to both of us." You smile, pressing forward to kiss his lips softly. "Now fuck me Park Jimin, or we're really gonna have a fight on our hands."

He laughs against your lips, a gentle bubble that rises from his chest. But he takes on your words, pressing you hardest against the wall and hiking your leg higher.

He only goes slow for a few thrusts, getting a feel for you before he decides to ramp it up further. 'Typical Jimin' seems to float through your head, but you just grip him tighter, moving to meet his thrusts. You wanted to savour how full he made you feel for as long as possible.

His speed picks up, a hand moving to the underside of your raised legs and digs in deep. You let your own hands slide to his hair, keeping hold of the soft locks as he starts to hit harder inside you.

The sound of your skin making contact seems to echo loudly, and you barely spare a thought to people below working out what the noise was. You didn't care if they heard any more.

It was so hot inside the shirt together, and you could feel beads of sweat rolling down your chin and down your neck. This definitely wasn't helping the heat problem at all, but there was nothing on earth that would make you stop. The edges of Jimin's hair were getting damper, and with every tug of his hair he let his head fall back into your touch. His throat was bared to you, salty beads dribbling down his hot skin.

You murmur a series of curses as you watched him, the thrum of him being underneath you almost unbelievable.

But then he pulls out a power move.

With fast thrusts he rolls his hips, his cock dragging almost perfectly across your soft spot inside, and all your senses seem to leave you. He repeatedly manages to hit your spot and you are sure he is planning to end you, it was the only way to explain it. Death by good dick, you could see it now.

"Fuck fuck fuck." you repeat like a mantra, The wet slaps that echoes just adding to the sensation.

"Wanna turn you." He mutters breathlessly, and a part of you is glad he's also feeling so affected.

You can't seem to vocalise an answer so you nod emphatically, unhitching your leg from its vice-like grip around him. He pulls out of you and you almost complain, but then his hands are on your hips.

He spins you and presses you against the wall, lifting your leg up and lining himself back inside you again. You're practically dripping for him, so it doesn't take much for him to push back inside. You push your ass back into his thrusts making his movements stutter, and with a playful squeeze he whines behind you.

A small smirk picks up on your lips as you roll your hips back at him, starting him out of his stupor and back to where you need him.

He pounds his hips into you and you have to steady yourself against the wall. The shirt bunches awkwardly, caught in your grip as the rough wood of the wall digs into your skin. Jimin presses his front against your back, the hotness of his skin pricking against your own.

An arm slides around your waist, guiding you, holding you steady as he ferociously fucks into you. His other arm settles across your chest, his fingers clenching across your collarbone. His mouth is by your ear, ragged breaths blowing across the taut collar of the shirt and hitting the warmth of your body.

“Y/N.” Jimin groans, the lilt in his voice uneven as his hips crash into yours.

Your entire body was tingling, the pleasure from your core and the bite of the wall against your bare skin a fight for your senses. You could feel perspiration form on your forehead making your hair stick to you awkwardly but it didn't matter.

Jimin filled you in every way. The hot touch from his fingertips on your waist and across your chest, the heat of his stomach at the base of your back, the soft moans that he sings by your ears.

"That's it, baby." He groans, his fingers curling onto your skin.

The hand that he has sat on your waist slinks across your stomach to reach between your legs, letting his fingers circle your throbbing clit. The pressure makes your eyes slam shut, letting your head fall back onto Jimin's shoulder behind you.

A small single laugh falls from his lips, but your inevitable clench off your walls around him cuts it short. He thrusts a little harder, rocking you against the wall. You have to brace yourself as he fills you repeatedly, his athletic hips working overtime.

The hand that has been pressed to your chest finds its way to your throat, holding just below your jaw. You let out a moan as you cover his hand with yours, pressing his fingers into your throat.

"Shit..." He gasps, his hips stuttering.

"I bet you've been wanting to strangle me for ages." You rush, voice cracking as he circles your clit a little harder.

"Only when I've thought about fucking you."

The moan that leaves you is barely human. In fact, you were barely human any more. you were turning to putty on his cock and under his fingers. It wasn't going to be long until you reached your peak.

His fingers press into your throat under your guidance, the delicious bite making your vision slowly pool. You gasp, shivers tingling down your body. He lets up his grip a little to let your blood flow one more, your body practically vibrating from stimulation.

"Close, Jimin..." you whine, rocking your ass back into him.

"Let loose for me, Y/N." He whispers, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear.

He lets out one last surge of energy, fucking into you and rubbing your clit with a renewed vigour. you throw yourself back at him without care, chasing the high he was leading to you.

With a few more pumps and circles on your clit, you come undone.

Your body pulses on him, clenching down hard as your orgasm crashes through you. Your fingernails dig into his hand and the wall, a strangled cry of his name bursting from you. You cum hard on him, helping him finally reach his peak too - you could tell by the way his hips stuttered, the way he throbbed inside you.

"Cum, Jimin." you whimper, rocking your throbbing core on him.

He doesn't hold back, pumping a few stuttery thrusts into you as he cums. He fills you, gasping against your ear as your walls milk him dry. He thrusts until he can’t anymore, slowing his hips as the fullness inside of you trickles out past his length.

Both of your movements slowly lull to a stop. Jimin holds your body close against him, ragged breath hot against your ear. Your skin is prickled from the heat but you nestle into him anyway.

He finally pulls his softening length from inside you, a small dribble of your combined juices trickle down causing shivers to cover your body.

Turning your head you smile at him, slightly out of breath and dewy. The sight of him is godly: Messy hair sticking to his damp forehead, a pretty red blush spreading across his cheeks, plushy lips parted and sucking in breaths. He smirks back, a lazy grin growing. He moves closer and kisses you, gentle brushes of his lips against yours.

His hand that sat on your throat moved to stroke your cheek, and you let your hands thread in his hair as your kiss trails off into small pecks.

The air is different around you. It’s still hot, swirling close and untempered. But there’s something else too - a coolness, an understanding. A person behind the battle lines. Someone you could lean on, and someone who could keep up with you in an argument.

You pull back from him and look at him, his eyes slightly starry and his lips swollen from all they had been doing. With a soft smile you rub your thumb across his cupid’s bow, wiping off the last of his lipgloss.

“We should probably go downstairs, right? We don’t want Namjoon sticking that long neck of his out here.” Jimin whispers, his eyes finally focusing on you.

You nod, but not before pressing one last soft kiss to his lips. Now you’ve started, there was nothing in the world that could stop you from peppering him.

“Yeah.” You sigh, voice cracking slightly.

But neither of you move, both unwilling to be the first to break apart.

“I don’t want to leave here either.” He smirks, but it’s softer. Not the smirk he throws out to purposely disarm you, though it still has that effect on you.

“Where do we go from here though?”

“I guess we’ll have to work that out. Maybe we can discuss it if you let me take you out tomorrow?” He asks, eyes darting over your face for an answer.

Excitement crackles through you, electricity rippling through your head to the end of your fingertips. A smile rises on your face, and you can see the relief flow through Jimin.

“I’d love to.”

“Perfect. Now, let’s go and rub in the guy’s faces how well we’re getting on.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling.

He kisses you one last time, hard and fast, satiated for now. With that you finally separate, Pulling your clothes back on before facing each other again.

The shirt felt big now. Too big.

You couldn’t get close enough to him. You both head for the door when you feel Jimin’s fingers interlock with yours. Your entire body flushes as you open the door to the bedroom, the wall of heat from the house hitting you both.

You’re both undeterred though, determined to find your friends. You pull him down the stairs, not caring at who stares at you both in the sickly shirt. The house felt hotter, a visible mist descending over the sea of people.

You find them where they last left you, congregating around the couch. When you stop in front of them with Jimin in tow, they all take it upon themselves to scrutinise you. It was quiet for a long while, and you could feel your resolve buckling. You didn’t want them to see through you, see what happened. But you wanted them to know that things would be okay. For all of you.

You can only imagine how you looked. Out of breath and flustered, both of your hair messy and fully damp. They couldn’t see your hands knotted together inside the shirt, but they didn’t need to. The demeanor change between you both must have been glaringly obvious.

“How’s it going?” Namjoon asks, glaring between you.

“Good, we, uh. We’re getting on. Yeah.” you smile awkwardly, completely lost on why you were being so suspicious. You had more guts than that!

“That was smooth.” Jimin grins. He was worlds away from you, utterly content and calm.

“Oh my god, shut up.” You roll your eyes, but give his hands an extra squeeze under the shirt.

“Where have you guys been? I haven’t seen you all night.” Jungkook asks with wide innocent eyes, and for a moment you feel like if he knew what had just been happening he would have been tainted.

“Oh, just… exploring.” Jimin smirks, and you fight the urge to pinch him. Who knew this would go to his head?

Well, you knew. You shouldn’t be surprised at all.

“About time.” Jin sighs, eyes still glued to his phone. The others laugh and throw in their agreements.

“What?” you and Jimin both yell, eyes scanning your ‘friends’ suspiciously.

“We knew you both liked each other. It got a bit weird towards the end there but we knew you’d work it out - or Namjoon would.” Hoseok shrugs, but his face is bright as he grins at you both.

“The shirt was a bit of a, well… drastic option.” Namjoon's smile was crooked, but his eyes were bright as he grinned at you.

“Oh… I don’t know what to say.” You murmur, heat creeping across your face again.

Jimin, however, throws his head back and laughs, slapping a hand on his chest for good measure. You stare up at him in shock, but you can’t help the smile that grows on your face. He was infectious. And your friends understood. You feel a tightness unfurl in your stomach.

“Well, it worked out. It worked out really well. I mean just so so good-”

“Jimin, shut up!” You gasp, eyes wide as he winks at Namjoon.

Well, it’s good to know that the fire is still there between you. He was still impossibly infuriating and unendingly Jimin - but it was all for you. And it was only the start.

“Sorry baby.” He whispers as he lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. You flush at the move in front of the others, but easily melt into his side. You had been waiting for this, after all.

“I’m glad.” smiles Namjoon, warm eyes flicking over you both in the stained and rumpled ugly item of clothing. “Maybe we should burn the shirt, though. Just for hygienic reasons.”

#ksmutclub #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #bts x reader #bts x you #bts reader insert #bts smut #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin x you #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #my writing

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messrmoonyy · 3 years

Note

The fluff 49 with Remadora!!

I literally used to always just write from Doras thoughts yet here I am now obsessed with writing outta Remus’ head. Jealous Remus. We love to see it. Prompt from this list.

Prompt: ‘ is somebody jealous? ‘

Pairing: Remus lupin x Nymphadora Tonks

Warnings: mild language

You can find all my other writing on my masterlist and remember my ask box is always open, so drop me a request! Check my masterlist for who I write for!

Remus didn’t think he was a particularly jealous person. And he had plenty to be jealous of when he thought about it. But it just… never crossed his mind to be jealous. He was too far past having an emotion so useless, jealousy would never get him anyway. Being jealous of a man with more money than he had wouldn’t magically make a hundred galleons appear in his pocket. Being jealous of other people his age who were settled down with families wouldnt make his family return from the dead. Yet…. There he was, sat at his desk in the Grimmauld place library, practically seething.

He knew he was being ridiculous. Completely. But watching Sirius and Nymphadora laughing on the other side of the room was making his blood boil. He felt a little stupid in fact, they were related after all. But. The Blacks did have a bit of reputation for that didn’t they. And there was the matter that he’d heard Harry talking to Hermione about how he thought Nymphadora and Sirius were secretly a couple. And of course to top it all off Sirius had, and probably always would be, an absolute ladies man.

He didn’t really have a right to be jealous. Yes he and Tonks had been getting very… close, if that was even the best choice of words. He didn’t think close did justice right the several bouts of snogging he had found himself in a multitude of places around Grimmauld place. Only the previous night on the exact sofa she was pratting around on with Sirius now. Not to mention the nights Tonks snook into his room, or cornered him in the back of the library. And there was that one time he’d practically jumped her in the drawing room after a meeting. But there hadnt been any real discussion on what they were.

The only vague discussion being after their first kiss, when Remus has avoided her for a good four days after. Wracked with guilt that he’d let his self control slip. But she’d cornered him in the kitchen and forced him to confront the situation head on. He’d tried to tell her it was probably a mistake. That he wasn’t exactly the best of choices for her. But she’d told him he was ridiculous, that she didn’t care about his age. His condition. But there hadn’t been a talk on their situation since. He didn’t like to bring it up. Maybe it was simply casual for her. A late night hook up when she had stress form work to blow off. So he couldn’t be jealous could he.

But he was. Insanely so. His grip tightening on his quill as Sirius flung another awful joke at her and she threw her head back with laughter. Remus didn’t get it but she clearly did. He tried to distract his jealousy away by focusing on just how beautiful she was when she was laughing, how her eyes crinkled at the corners and her cheeks flushed pink. But it didn’t work as well as he hoped. Because if he noticed those things. Sirius must too.

“ if you two are going to continue being so noisy then would you just leave. Some of us are trying to work “ he snapped, slamming his fist to the desk for good measure. Sirius made some grumbled remark about Remus being a bore. But he didn’t care enough to pay attention.

“ ooo Tonksie that’s his professor tone “ Sirius said in a loud whisper before laughing again and nudging Tonks with his elbow “ sorry sir. Detention for talking in class? “ they both burst into laughter, Tonks steadying herself with a hand to Sirius’ shoulder. Remus sighed and tried to ignore them, his knuckles turning white around his quill. “ oh come on Re. Have a drink, lighten up “

“ I’m not in the mood. I’m trying to work “ he grumbled, purposely not looking over at she’d Sirius now had his arm slung around Tonks shoulders. He was being ridiculous. Though Tonks seemed to pick up on it.

There was then some hushed talking between the two of them, that his heightened senses would’ve allowed him to hear if he cared enough. But instead He huffed and looked back down at his mission report. There was the creek of the library door as Sirius left with another remark about how boring Remus was and then quiet. Assuming that Tonks had followed Sirius out of the room he debated on going to find her. But a few moments later her arms looped around his neck from behind him, her nose brushing against his cheek.

“ is somebody jealous? “ she said quietly, mischief evident in her tone. He’d hoped he hadn’t been so obvious. Clearly he had. Of course he had. He wasn’t exactly well practiced in the art of hiding his affections for someone. And besides, Tonks could read him like a book.

“ I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about “ he felt her smile against his cheek and she tightened her hold on him, bringing her chin down to rest on his shoulder.

“ he’s my cousin Remus. I might technically be a Black by name, but not by nature. Not really into the whole ‘ fuck your family members ‘ thing you know? Especially not Sirius. Merlin. It’d be like shacking up with a brother or something. Nasty. Ugh now you’ve put that imagine in my head “ she shivered at the thought and he couldn’t help but smile.

“ you said yourself he’s handsome “ he pointed out, remembering the conversation that had actually lead to their first kiss, in a much similar situation to the one they were currently in. His so thought non existent jealousy coming out to bite.

“ doesn’t mean I wanna shag him Remus “

“ you always have such a way with words “ she laughed lightly and moved around in front of him, hopping up onto the desk and folding her arms.

“ I’m quite offended actually “ Remus sat back in his chair and watched her intently. Her cheeks were flushed slightly from drinking “ I mean come. On. Remus. You’ll be saying I’m shacking up with Arthur next because I laugh at his dad jokes “ when she put it like that he guessed he had been a bit irrational with his thoughts.

“ I heard Harry talking about it with Ron and Hermione. I think most of the kids believe you and Sirius are up to something “ she scoffed at that and quirked an eyebrow.

“ so you’re listening to the theories of the most unobservant boy in the entire country? I mean I love the boy I do, but I think he needs a new pair of glasses. His clearly aren’t working well “ a small smile tugged at his face then, Harry was a bright boy but he did have a tendency to be quite…. Oblivious. To everything. Tonks was quiet for a few more moments before tilting her head to the side inquisitively, chewing lightly on her bottom lip. She looked deep in thought “ so what’s this really about then? “ Remus frowned and raised his hands as if in mock surrender.

“ nothing. I told you I heard Harry and the way you were with Sirius.. it’s nothing “ she rolled her eyes and hopped off the desk, stepping either side of his legs and wiggling to get comfortable in his lap. His hands flew to her waist, unable to stop himself as she placed her hands to his shoulders and titled her head again.

“ Remus “ her voice was slightly sterner but she was smiling at him “ you can talk to me. You know you can “ he debated telling her the truth. That he was just getting jealous because she could do far better than him. She could have whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted. And he was scared to lose her. What they had, whatever it really was, was great. Remus hadn’t been so happy in a long. Long. Time. He didn’t want to push too far and send her packing. But he didn’t want to hang too far back and have her run off to someone else. It was a constant dilemma in his head.

“ you and I “ he started, not really even sure where he was going with his speech “ it’s good. It’s. It’s marvellous “ she laughed a little and nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“ it is. Though I sense a ‘ but ‘ incoming “ he sighed and fiddled nervously with one of the beads on her shirt. They were haphazardly sewn all over it and he wondered if she’d added them herself.

“ I’m just waiting for the inevitable “ he said after another short moment of silence. Deciding now was a better time as any to tell her. She was stubborn and she had him right where she wanted him. So it was going to come out there and then whether he liked it or not really.

“ ‘ the inevitable’ being?…. “

“ finding someone better- no now before you make that face let me finish. Please “ she had sighed as soon as the words left his mouth, sitting back slightly with an eye roll.

“ Remus we’ve talked about this. Can you just get it into your head, that I fancy you. Not Sirius. Not some random ‘ someone better ‘. You “ he couldn’t lie that the words made his heart pound just that bit faster. The confirmation being all he’d really needed. But there was always going to be that worry in the back of his mind. It would never go away.

“ I know. And maybe I’m a fool to keep bringing it up. But you have to admit that I’m not exactly at the top of most peoples most eligible list “ she took his face in her hands then, making him look her in the eyes. He’d noticed she didn’t change their colour very often anymore after he’d made an offhand remark about how beautiful her natural brown eyes were. They were captivating.

“ no one else bloody matters though. You’re at the top of my list. That’s all that matters. Maybe I’m mental. Maybe I’m not. All I know, is you’re one of the only truly decent man I’ve ever met. You don’t make me morph. You’re so respectful it’s practically dripping off of you. And you’re proper fit too which is totally just a bonus “ he hoped she couldn’t feel his cheeks heating up under her hands. But her smile told him she probably could.

It was odd for him to look at her and think that some one could ever even have the nerve to make her morph for them. To fit their idea of what was perfect. He thought she was marvellous in whatever form she thought was best fitting for her each day. He’d never dream of making her change. In his eyes, there had never been a more perfect specimen of a person to walk the earth. She made him laugh. Made him feel normal. Cared for. He couldn’t believe she would ever have eyes for him. But she did. And he guessed that miracles must truly be real.

“ I’m sorry for being so jealous “ her face softened again and the backs of her fingers brushed over his cheek.

“ it’s fine. I mean. At least it shows you care? “ she laughed a little and he felt his tension melting away a little.

“ I do “ her hand crept towards the back of his neck, her fingers slipping into his hair and she shuffled a little closer again.

“ good. Now stop being a mope and realise we’re on own again “ she whispered the last part, her face inching closer so he felt her breath on his lips. And with a smirk she caught his lips in hers.

#messrmoonyy writes #I don’t really like this one ngl #but hope you do #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #remadora #harry potter #remus x tonks #ronks #the marauders #lupin #tonks x lupin #tonks #remus x nymphadora #remadora one shot

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randominagines · 3 years

Note

Hey can you do a nick clark smut with this prompt(Do it again and don't stop this time)

thanks for the request, I love this!

Pairing: Nick Clark fem!reader

Setting: S02, E03

Warning: smut, language, oral sex

P.s. if you find any mistake please correct me, English is not my mother tongue and I want to improve. Reblog, if you can, it helps a lot, thank you💕

P.p.s. gifs belong to the creators.

The Confession

Arguing with Nick Clark was kinda stressing for y/n: he knew exactly how to make her laugh or distract her. She tried to stay mad at him, but she simply couldn't. Anyway, that time, she wanted to be firm and make him understand that he couldn't always act so reckless. Her heart almost stopped when she saw him entirely covered in blood, walking among the zombies as if he was one of them. She couldn't even describe the relief she perceived as soon as Nick glanced at her to make her understand that he was just fine. As soon as they got back in the Abigail, she decided that she didn't want to see him for the rest of her day: he had scared the shit out of her.

She got out of the shower and squeezed her hair, then she grabbed a towel to dry herself. She quickly put a pair of underwear and a long t-shirt that happened to be Nick's. "Splendid." She mumbled to herself while realising that she had put it on. Her best friend used to share his clothes with her, it had always been like that and they had been best friends for a lifetime. She was about to tidy up her cabin when she heard knocking. She looked at the door. "Alicia?" She asked, Alicia used to go to y/n quite often, they were like sisters. "Not exactly." Nick's voice made her frown. She rolled her eyes and opened the door. Nick was standing there, all cleaned up with his long hair half wet and his usual joyful smirk on his face, while wearing a black shirt that suited him so well. She sighed. "What do you want, Clark? She brusquely asked. He laughed and raised his arms. "Whoa, someone is nervous today. Can I come in, y/l/n?" He asked while smiling at her. She chewed the internal part of her cheek but nodded and moved aside to let him in. He looked around and sat on her bed. "I love the fact that the world is totally changed, but the fact that you're messy stays exactly the same." He fooled her around while staring at her. She normally would have smiled, but she didn't. "I was about to tidy up." She simply said and started brushing her hair, they were almost dry. Nick raised an eyebrow. "Okay, spit it out, why are you mad at me?" He asked.

She turned and looked at him, her eyes scanning his. "You're so smart, Nicholas Clark, yet so slow sometimes." She said and he stood up, his long legs moving to walk toward her. She crossed her arms over her chest. "What happened? I'm behaving..?" He said, referring to the fact that he was staying out of meds. She shook her head. "Are you? An hour ago you were walking between zombies entirely covered in blood, making me believe for a second that you were lost, turned into one of them and almost causing me an heart attack. Is this behaving?" She asked, her eyes getting watery. He took a step back and frowned. "Y/n, I didn't think that..." She raised her hand. "You never think, Nick, you never think that you are literally the most important person of my life, that losing you would mean losing my heart for me. Yet here you are, being reckless, irresponsible, putting your life at risk. When I saw you there... I thought you were gone." She finally said, a tear running down her cheek. He looked at her, his eyes filled with sadness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you worried. I'm just like this, you know, but I would never hurt you by purpose. Why are you so upset?" He asked, his hand reaching her cheek to wipe away her tears. She took a deep breath. "Because I'm in love with you, you irresponsible asshole!" She finally snapped, her eyes stuck into his. His hand stopped at mid air, his eyes widened and he stumbled back as if she had just punched him. He had been in love with her since forever, he couldn't even process those words.

She exhaled and ran her hands through her hair. "I know you don't feel the same, I know I just made this whole situation complicated, but I need to tell you because..." She couldn't finish her sentence because he had crushed his lips against hers. She initially widened her eyes in surprise, then she immediately closed them and kissed him back, her arms crossing over his shoulders. He grabbed her by her waist to pull her closer, their bodies attached while he lifted her. She crossed her legs around his waist and let him gently lay her down on her bed, his body moving to be on the top of hers. They didn't stop kissing while he gently caressed her legs, his fingers travelling toward her stomach and hips. He smiled on her lips. "For as much as I love the fact that you're wearing my t-shirt," he whispered on her lips, his hands lifting her shirt. "I want to see it on this floor now." He concluded and took it off her.

She was wearing only her underwear, her whole body exposed. He stared at her, his eyes worshipping her every curve and his smirk showing how much he was enjoying the sight of her. She felt incredibly loved. She put a hand behind his head and pulled him toward her to kiss him again. He grinned. "You're fucking gorgeous, y/n." He whispered before kissing her. Her hands started to unbotton his shirt, and he laughed on her lips, noticing how impatient she was. He took the shirt off and she caressed his chest, his white skin smooth under her fingers. He quickly took off his trousers as well, their bodies now both exposed. They had seen eachother almost naked many times: they grew up together, went to sea holidays together for years, saw the other getting dressed and changing when they were kids but that was totally a first time for the both of them. That was different, that was intimate, that was passionate. She started at him and caressed his cheek. "Nick, you are..." She was about to say, but he laughed. "Skinny and pale." He said, his insecurities popping out. She shook her head. "Beautiful, you're beautiful, Nicholas Clark." She concluded and he smiled, his lips on her neck.

She tilted her head back to let him kiss her, he left small bites under her jaw while his hands caressed her body. He licked her nipple and his finger squeezed the other while she moaned, her body shaking. He bit her nipple and smirked when she gasped, his hands removing her underwear. His lips travelled down her body, on her stomach, hips, inner thigh and he gently opened her legs. His lips were now on her clit, his tongue twirling on it while his fingers caressed her legs. She grabbed his long hair and pulled them when he sucked her clit, her eyes rolling because of the pleasure. "Nick..." She whispered and he smiled, he loved hearing his name coming from her lips. He slowly caressed her entrance with his finger, her body immediately responded: she arched her back and her legs shook. He slowly penetrated her with his finger while licking her clit, his tongue fast but his touch delicate. She closed her eyes and caressed his hair, her breath irregular. He suddenly rotated his finger while his tongue quickly pressed on her clit. She gasped and widened her eyes, her head lowered to look at him. "Shit, that felt heavenly. Do it again and don't stop this time," she said, she was out of breath. He smiled without stopping, his eyes staring at her to enjoy the sight of her pleasure. She closed her eyes and pulled her hair. "Please..." She whispered, her whole body shaking. He repeated his movements but faster, his fingers hitting exactly the spot she was hoping he'd touched. She arched her back, her orgasm crossing her like a wave. He grabbed her leg with his free hand, his tongue circling her clit. She moaned his name, her eyes closed while she desperately tried not to be too loud: the walls were thin on the Abigail. She rolled her eyes and he suddenly moved on the top of her, his fingers not letting her go.

He crushed his lips on hers while adding another finger inside of her, his movement now faster. She tasted herself on his tongue and grabbed his shoulders while he kept moving his fingers inside of her. She looked at him and he felt his heart skip a beat: she was absolutely vulnerable, totally lost in her pleasure, completely his. He couldn't believe how beautiful she was. She scratched his back, her nails embedded in his skin. "Nick, please..." She moaned on his lips, he smiled. "It's okay, come again, babe." He invited her and she let herself go once again. Another orgasm invaded her, her body attached to his and her fingers leaving scratches on his back. He bit her nipple, his eyes not leaving hers not even for a second. She exhaled as soon as the orgasm finished, her body immediately relaxing. He gradually stopped penetrating her and removed his fingers, his lips covering her cheeks, neck, lips and chest with small, tender kisses. She caressed his head while he smiled. "I love you too, y/n, since we where kids." He whispered, his arms wrapping her. She opened her mouth. "Really?" She asked, she never noticed anything at all. He nodded. "I've been trying to hide for so long that I had lost any hope that you could feel the same." He admitted and looked down, his fingers drawing figures on her chest and stomach. She caressed his cheek. "Well, I feel the same." She said and he smiled while kissing her again. She parted her lips to let his tongue in, her hands playing with the waistband of his boxer. He grinned. "Y/n..." He whispered on her lips, his eyes getting darker.

She smirked. "My turn." She said and he laughed. Before she could actually do something, she heard knocks at her door. They both jumped out of their skin. "Yes?" She asked while instinctively covering her breast. "Y/n, it's almost lunch time, have you seen Nick?" Alicia asked. They both immediately stood up: Nick quickly put his trousers and shirt on and y/n put her t-shirt without even wearing her underwear. "Yes, he's here. Come in." She said and Alicia slowly opened the door. She looked around and shook her head, that room was a mess. "What are you doing here? Are you two not hungry?" She asked while stepping on a shoe, she almost fell. "Uhm, Nick was helping me tidying up." Y/n lied and Nick nodded. "Yes, this room is unbelievable." He added while picking up a rubber band from the floor. Alicia nodded. "I agreed but now it's time to eat. If we're not sat around the table mom won't allow us to start so come because I'm starving." She said and they both nodded. "Okay, give us a second to pick up these last things." She looked around. Alicia nodded and walked toward the door. "Fine, and one last thing," she turned to face them. "Next time, not so loud, y/n." She joked. Y/n widened her eyes and covered her face in shame while Nick bursted into laugh.

Alicia smiled and winked at her best friend while leaving the room. "Oh my God, that's..." She tried to say but Nick looked at her. "Funny." He said and she shook her head. "Embarrassing! That's utterly embarrassing." She said and violently blushed. He grabbed her waist and gave her a quick kiss. "Nah, it's Alicia, it's okay." He said and picked up her underwear. He gave it to her and she took it, her cheeks still red. "We have been caught and I haven't even been able to..." She complained while putting the underwear on and grabbing a pair of shorts. He caressed her back and looked at her. "This isn't finished, y/n." He whispered, his voice low. She smiled on his lips. "Fine, but next time I'll be the one making you say my name." She provoked him and bit his lower lip. He licked his lip. "I can't wait, babe."

#nick clark x y/n #nick clark x fem!reader #nick clark x you #nick clark x reader #nick clark imagine #fear the walking dead imagine

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shtern-and-art · 3 years

Note

Back again with more questions about the au!! XD

And don't worry, we all love your long responses!! The more you say about the au the more interesting it becomes :D

Do Skeppy and Bad need to eat? If so, do they have favourite foods and can they cook?

Does Skeppy have pets of any sort? Does he like animals or have any that he particularly fears? I find the idea of Bad comforting him after a not so nice encounter super cute!

It's pretty obvious they hate the littering teens but what about little kids. Does Bad often lure then deep into the forest to see all the prettiest flowers and cute animals? Has he ever tried to adopt one before realising that wouldn't be a very good idea.

Does Skeppy get defensive about the forrst when he's in the town, like cutting off people who try to say it's a horrible place, or is he good at controlling his emotions?

Do either of them actually need sleep or is it just for fun (or in Bad's case a way to pass time). Does Skeppy ever sneak into the forest depths to nap alongside Bad? Is Skeppy considered short by humans? I assume Bad teases him for being tiny since he's pretty damn tall/large (defending on form) himself.

Also do you have a favourite animal? N who's your favourite to draw in this au?!

Once again, so many questions '>_<. I always look forward to updates for in the dark, all the extra bits are so cool to learn about! I'll probs have even more after a while too haha. Hope you have a great day!! <3

Oh, that's a relief! Gonna ramble freely now :D

And, yes, hello, the questions! (with doodles now!)

1) Food.

Bad doesn't really need rest or nourishment (his health is connected to the forest), but he indulges in both. Sleep, yes, he uses to pass the time (or have dreams, for the heck of it). And the desire to get food or hunt is part of the instincts leftover from all the times he connected to the forest animals for a long time. Desire to eat food though is purely his own, as a person and not a spn creature :D

Back when he was a human, he could cook pretty good, and I bet his favorites were pastries and steak. Nowadays, in the forest, he can eat meat pretty much any day, raw or otherwise. So, after being awake and coherent for long enough time, and reconnecting with himself a bit, Bad will miss eating baked stuff way more than any other food.

And, yes, getting fresh muffins is one of the reasons/leverages Skeppy might try to lure Bad to hang out in the town.

Rat eats and sleeps too, but Bad isn't sure if she does it out of necessity or habit.

Skeppy, oh, he is one of those people who can burn water. In part, the blame goes to his nature - or his lack of control over it - chaos inducing tendencies do not go well with following recipes.

Which is unfortunate, seeing how he does need to eat, and sleep, and so on. Sure, he can last way longer without any of those things than a human would, but he still needs them to survive.

So, his favorite food is pizza, and all home-cooked meals stayed in the past, when Skeppy still lived with his family.

2) Sleep.

So, yes, Skeppy needs to sleep! But I'd say he will not go out to the forest at night for it. Not at first, at least.

First time, he just stayed out for a long time, very far back from the forest's edge. And the forest is so dark, it’s hard to judge the time in it at evening hours… By the time Skeppy noticed that it got very late, the whole journey back would’ve taken him too long to get a good rest at home. But, really, he didn’t have to make it. Nothing in these woods would hurt him, as long as Bad is around, and he’s… here, Bad’s around. And he knows the best moss-covered nooks between the roots, and is very, very warm all the time, and is kinda worrying anyway… Bad knows his woods are safe for Skeppy, but he doesn’t want him going around town at night when Skeppy is distracted and tired.

And this is how the first sleepover happens: with Skeppy declaring he’s stealing Bad’s cape to burrito himself in for the night, and (after the pretend-fight about it), doing so while Bad is still wearing it. It turns out for the better though, because the cape is not that warm, even if cozy, but Bad very much is. Enough to sleep nicely through the night, and dream of the vastness of the forest, the quiet peace of earth underneath, and of the tree branches reaching for the sky, to pass on the wishes tied to them further.

Bad doesn’t sleep that night, just watches over the snoring cape-caterpillar snuggled to his side (in a very not-creepy way, oh no). He puts some old dry leaves in Skeppy’s hair to make fun of him in the morning, and totally doesn’t scare him, when Skeppy half-wakes up early in the morning to a glowing milky white eyes of not really human looking Bad staring right at him.

Next time Skeppy stayed out in the forest for too long, and had to spend the night, he maybe did it almost kinda half consciously on purpose. Because he wasn’t sleeping well, and the loneliness and the stress of life were getting to him a bit, and. He is very much touch starved. And the dreams he had in the forest last time were pretty nice too. Like resting so close to Bad let Skeppy feel what he feels, perhaps? Anyway. It was nice. But he couldn’t just ask for stuff like that right upfront then, so the shame and creativeness lead his way.

At some point he will ask to sleep near Bad upfront, though (:

3) Kids.

Oh, little kids Bad doesn't mind. Also he remembers too much about being human to lure kids away, or think having one at the forest will be a good idea :D I'd say, if some little kid gets away from their parents or a common walking path, Bad could lead them back instead. Send them to chase after a bunny or a pretty butterfly, leading the child back to safety.

Bad never shows himself to the kids, and there is a bit of self-deprecation in this. Just like there is a bit of kindness in the way he treats people, despite always showing how angry and done he is with them.

That is a weird, interesting contradiction Skeppy is very fascinated with.

4) Height.

Skeppy is short by human standards :D And his less human form is even shorter, so Bad absolutely makes fun of him for that. Oh, I'm sorry "lightly teases him, with no mean intent to it at all" (c) Bad, smiling with all his long, sharp teeth

5) Skeppy and the townsfolk.

After knowing Bad for a while, knowing how Bad sees the forest, and how, despite his anger, Bad still can't help but watch out for some people of the town too... Yes, with all that, Skeppy will find himself getting angry at times over people bad-mouthing the forest.

But he can't really talk back here. After all, it was him, and his mischief that reawakened old rumors, old fears, made people more paranoid about the forest than they were before.

Skeppy's little pranks took hold, and him being in town and going around the forest doesn't let people forget how scary and dangerous this place can be.

So yeah, before he lets himself properly call out someone about being mean to the forest, Skeppy gotta face all that. Fun times :D

6) Favorite animal and fav. character to draw.

I think I like to draw Bad more, because he can shapeshift, and the horns/branches are fun to twist around :D But I liked doing Skeppy's reality breaking effects too!

And idk if I can pick one favorite animal :D I just really like snakes, cats, orcas, and all corvids.

Thank you, this ask really made my day! Even if it took me a bit to answer it XD

---

In The Dark - masterpost

#mcyt #mcyt fanart #badboyhalo #skeppy #skephalo #In The Dark #shtern talks

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spacegirlapollo · 4 years

Text

Ice Cream (Hawks x Reader Smut)

Title: Ice Cream

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Words: 2,916

Summary: Keigo gives you a reward for using your quirk to help him out.

(lmao I’m so bad at summaries, anyways its smut 90% and plot: 10% lmao enjoy! )

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

“Keigo!” you groaned, looking down at the mess of chips that were sprinkled on the floor not too far from the bag that you had dropped.

You had your arm practically submerged in a bag of your boyfriend’s chips, when the front door to your shared apartment swung open, revealing the man himself in all of his post work glory. You were very taken off guard because he hardly ever used the front door, instead he consistently shot through one of the big balcony windows, that had been his only deal breaker when apartment hunting. He only occasionally used the door when his wings were all used up or he was exhausted. But he was standing in front of you now with a seemingly full set of wings and boundless Keigo energy.

You were so used to it now that you could even hear the faint sounds of his wings flapping a few seconds before he came into the window. You were also feeling the tiny ping of guilt as you had stolen his bag of chips, you hadn’t planned to eat the whole thing, but now the chips laid on the floor inedible.

“Sorry babe.” He said with a chuckle as his back was turned to lock and close the door. He turned to you and gave you his famous closed eye charming smile. The one that always made you forget what you were even upset about before. You pouted bending over to scoop up the chips before he could see your contraband.

In the corner of your eye you could see his boots enter your vision and then he was eye level with you, positioned to help you scoop up the chips. His face widened in mild disbelief.

“Are these my-”

“I’m sorry!” You said not able to hold your laugh in as you almost shouted it.

“ I was craving salt. I needed salt Keigo.”

His golden laugh rang around your ears and you couldn't help matching his laugh. You watched his face for a moment and your smile fell a bit as his face scrunched momentarily in pain. Setting the bag full of ruined chips to lean against the sofa, you reached for him frowning.

“Are you okay baby?” You asked concern dripped all over your facial features.

His face cleared up immediately and his golden smile was back.

“Yeah i’m okay.” He said lying flawlessly. You frowned as he started to stand up. He said it in that tone that you knew meant he wasn't going to give you any other answers. It was the tone he used to pretend like things at work were fine even if they weren't.

“I’m going to shower.” He said looking a bit far away now, but he turned back to you a smaller smile creeping on the edge of his lips.

“I missed you today… want to watch a movie or something?”

You smiled at his, for some reason you’d missed him today too.

“Sounds like a plan.” You said.

He winked and turned to head down the hallway leading to the bathroom. His smile had dropped again though.

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

15 minutes later, you had vacuumed the floor a bit and were now carrying a large plant into the living room.

Your quirk was a healing one, which was convenient when Keigo came home bruised and bloody occasionally. You could heal any and everything, but your quirk was all about balance and energy. If you healed someone directly, it would take energy from you to balance itself. But if you had something like a plant nearby you could use the energy from the plants to heal as well.

You had a feeling, something was wrong with Keigo and he wasn't telling. Why, you weren't sure. He typically did not like being healed by you, as too much healing could leave you feeling weak for days at a time. You figure this must be it. Either way you placed down the plant near the edge of the couch hoping that he wouldn't notice the sudden addition to the room.

Grabbing the remote and plopping down on the couch you could hear the water shutting off from deeper in the house.

A few minutes into your search for a good movie, and you could hear his footsteps as he re-entered the room, a white tee and sweatpants on instead of his heavy duty hero uniform.

“Did you pick something out?” He asked, crossing into the room.

“Yep!” You said patting your lap with your free hand motioning him towards you.

He eagerly came forward sitting on the couch and resting his hand on your lap. The couch was large enough to fit his wings, which was like most furniture in your home. You pressed play on your zombie movie you’d picked out and started to play with his hair with your right hand.

You knew how much he loved when you did this, but now you could still see how his eyebrows were pulled together slightly. It wasn't totally innocent , your playing with his hair, as when you did this you were able to take a sort of scan of whatever you were touching to better understand what was wrong. The spots typically show up as red circles in your mind. And sure enough you could see red circles where it seemed his wings connected to his back. It must have been sore from all the flying he’d been doing lately. He’d told you once that his body was a little two small for the powerful wings. You wondered how often he went through this pain without saying anything.

Your hand slipped up the back of his shirt and he looked up at you a little, an eyebrow raised.

You reached the spots of red before he could turn away from you.

“Babe what are you doin- MHM”

His sentence was cut off by a deep moan that caught you a bit off guard. You’d touched one of the spots activating your quirk. You knew though from healing yourself that the healing felt intensely satisfying like a good scratch on an itchy spot, or stepping into a hot Jacuzzi.

You moved onto the next spot activating your quirk again, The plant next to you starting to shrink and wilt. You felt him melting in your lap despite him having tried his hardest to not let you know.

You pressed slightly against a larger red zone another gasp like moan came from your boyfriend, and you couldn't help but bite your lip at the sound. You knew it wasn't on purpose but It was almost sinful the noises he was letting out. You shifted slightly pressing your thighs together as you felt your mind running wild.

You finished with the right wing and started to make quick work of the second, pressing softly against each zone while Keigo’s face smoothed out with each heal. You’d saved the largest one for last, guiltily hoping for another moan. You were rewarded when you started to heal and he let out another gaspy groan and you imagined him making that noise right next to your ear while on top of you.

The plant next to you had officially wilted down but Keigo was fully healed and sitting up now from your lap to face you. Before you could react both of his hands were on your cheeks and he pulled you into a kiss that felt like he was the sun and filling you up with light.

He pulled away and let his hands drop giving you a shy smile.

“I don’t know why I was being so stubborn Y/N.” He shook his head in disbelief. He seemed to be his normal self again, face cleared of any pain.

“I feel…” He sighed in relief. “ So much better.”

You smiled back at him, head a little foggy from the kiss and body on fire from his noises.

“How can I make it up to you.” He was saying now, getting animated again.

“I could make dinner.” He started to suggest but then thought better tapping his finger on his chin as he was thinking.

“Hmmm no… I could fly us to get ice cream!”

He looked at you his face the question : “ How about it?”

‘

When he didn't immediately read a yes on your face he shook his head. “ No? How about…”

“Keigo..” You blurted , heart skipping a beat when he immediately stopped and looked at you.

“I- I want something different.” You said, cursing yourself for how soft your voice was coming out. You felt the heat rising to your cheeks and his head tilted a bit, confused. He looked cute and insanely hot like that, watching you.

Keigo was a quick study however, and you saw the realization of just exactly what you wanted hitting his face. A smirk crept across his face,

“Ohh, I see.” He said so low it sent a chill down your spine.

and he moved so quick he didn’t give you a moment to think. His hands suddenly were on each of your ass cheeks scooping you up and planting you firmly on his lap. He moved back a strand of you falling hair before drawing your lips in again for a kiss. This one is much different from the last. His lips parted yours, your tongues swirling together as his grip on your ass tightened.

You felt a throbbing between your legs and as you broke apart your kiss for air he started to kiss up your neck and to your jawline leaving butterfly kisses along the way that were sending your head spinning.

“Mmm I missed you today.” He said close to your ear in that low voice that sent chills down your spine. You felt his hand slipping into the front of your pants, and you let out a small moan as he sunk two fingers into your soaking cunt.

“You miss me?” He asked, pumping his fingers into you agonizingly slowly. When you didn't immediately respond he sat back some and grabbed your chin to bring your eyes to him. He inserted another finger, picking up the pace as he curled his fingers inside you.

“Hm?” He asked again as you opened your mouth to moan out a yes.

“Tell me.” He said breathily, his speed making you see stars now.

“ Tell me how much you couldn’t wait for me to come home and fuck you.”

You moaned and the sound of his soaking fingers fucking you filled the room. You were close to unraveling and he knew it.

“Keigo” you moaned out using your hands flat against his chest to balance yourself. “Fuck, I missed you.”

This seemed to satisfy him as he grinned devilishly at you bringing your face intoxicatingly close again.

“You gonna come for me?” He asked as if he could feel just how close to the edge you were.

“Mm yes be a good girl and come for me.”

You couldn't hold off anymore as your head leaned back in an open moan as you came onto his fingers. You could feel his deep chuckle vibrating in his chest on your hands that were placed squarely on his chest.

You let out a little squeak as your whole body rose as he picked you up. Your legs were wrapped instinctively around his waist and you giggled a bit in excitement as he started to walk you almost blindly into your bedroom.

“Mhm you thought I was finished with you?” He asked.

“I really hoped not.” You teased back, before your back landed on the extra large bed in your bedroom. Keigo was above you now grabbing your t-shirt and rolling it off your head, then going for your pants slipping them off effortlessly. You say up slightly and began to remove his clothing as well, almost blushing in the way his eyes followed you.

When you were both completely naked, he grabbed your chin again bringing you in for a kiss. You reached for his hardened cock pumping it in rhythm and enjoying his breathy moans against your lips.

Breaking apart your lips with a smirk you pushed him back, and he went willingly sitting up slightly against the headboard.

Coming closer you took it into your mouth moaning to send vibrations down his spine. You watched as he closed his eyes slightly at this, He was looking at you eyes half lidded and lustful.

You stuck out your tongue as you brought your head up releasing him with a pop. His hand came forward and grabbed your face guiding you back down to the hilt of his cock. You hollowed out your mouth and hummed relishing in his deep moan. He was setting the pace now bringing your head up and down his hard shaft, chasing his orgasm.

“Fuck Y/N” He growled out his lips parted as he came deep down your throat.

“gaddamn it.” He said sitting up and rolling you over till he was on the top. Although there hadn’t really been a moment where he wasn't in charge.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He said before entering your wet folds with a push. You moaned out at the feeling of being filled up by him. He didn’t wait and he was slamming into you again, his right hand gripping your hip as he fucked you and his left next to your head for balance..

You loved looping up at him like this, your beautiful boyfriend and his stretching wings above you. He knew every inch of your body and just how to make you feel good. You moved your head slightly to the side to make room for his hot lips against your neck. Moans spilled from your lips as he didn’t let up on you in the slightest. You reward him for healing him, as he typically teased you from start to finish. You weren’t going to last long and he was planning on that.

“Fuck Keigo.” You moaned as he pressed his body closer to yours and descended into short powerful strokes against your g spot. Your hands were around his neck now as he fucked you into the mattress all the while his hot voice in your ear, egging on your climax, sending your body into a tailspin with his dirty words.

You felt that tight knot in your stomach as your eyes rolled back in bliss.

“Yes. Yes.” He said now eyes closing as your pussy tightened around him “Yes. cum for me”

He took your lips with his as he reached his own climax and overstimulating your soaking cunt. A few more deep strokes and you could feel him cumming inside of you filling you up.

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

“Did you really miss me today?” You asked looking up at Keigo who was stroking your hair now, as you were both naked in bed. He had you close to his chest and he looked back down at you a little more serious than you’d thought he’d be.

“I miss you all the time little bird.” He said moving his hand down to stroke your cheek.

“You always heal me in more ways than one.”

Your face squished with how cute and cheesy that was, but you couldn't hide your big smile.

“Hmmm. I missed you too.” You said and he kissed your forehead sending your heart going wild.

It was quiet for a while as you laid there just enjoying each other's presence.

“Can we still get ice cream?” You asked quietly and you could feel his whole body shake as he laughed.

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

“Sure little bird, lets go get some ice cream.”

#keigo takami #hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #Hawks x reader smut #Keigo Takami x reader smut #Hawks smut #mha fanfiction #MHa smut #mha imagines #I did not proof read this #SO SORRY

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years

Text

[ k i n k t o b e r ] d a y 12 - masterlist

↪ character: jumin han [mystic messenger]

↪ tags/warnings: +18, female!reader, cam girl, videocall sex, mutual masturbation, porn with plot.

↪ a/n: the way i intended this to be short and turn out to be a full story lol. still, i really liked this and i can picture going back to this scenario again <3

Pop-up ads were Jumin Han’s worst nightmare.

No matter how many fancy antivirus the tech department installed on his laptop, he always managed to click somewhere he wasn’t supposed to and next thing he knew, there was a picture of an erect penis on his screen.

It usually didn’t irritate him as much, but that day he had to stay up working on a project and now he was stuck in a website he couldn’t close, no matter how many times he clicked the small “x”. He had called someone from the tech department and solicited a new laptop. It was going to take around thirty minutes for it to arrive. He poured himself a glass of wine and looked disgusted at his screen, where a blonde woman was playing with her breasts in front of the camera, that said “Live”.

Once again, he tried to close the window, but instead opened a new one instead, making him roll his eyes backwards in exasperation. When he looked at the screen again, he saw a young woman with long brown hair and big eyes looking at the screen with a small smile. It felt like she was looking right into her eyes, and he covered the camera on his laptop for a second just to make sure she wasn’t. She was wearing a white baby doll while kneeling on her bed, her bare thighs looking incredibly soft and alluring. She wasn’t touching herself but rather playing with her hair and giggling once in a while after looking at her screen. Jumin’s eyes darted to the right, where he saw comments from anonymous people appearing by the second.

As she read them, she propped up her thigh, making Jumin blush instantly. He couldn’t see her underwear, but the innocent way she had moved as if she hadn’t figured out she was showing more skin made his head spin.

His security guard knocking on his door made him come back to reality. His new laptop was probably back. Jumin quickly noted down the name of the user and the name of the website that had appeared in front of him before opening the door and taking his new laptop to finish up his work.

Watching her became a regular thing he did right before he went to bed. After a quick research he had understood what was the purpose with what the internet called cam girls, but the girl he had become so obsessed with didn’t meet all the criteria. For example, he hadn’t seen her naked once, every time she wore lingerie that covered from her breasts to her bottom. She usually just chatted with the people that left comments and sometimes would show off the clothes she was wearing. Jumin felt embarrassed at the tent that formed in his pants after she turned around to show off a cat lingerie that had a tail attached to it.

Two weeks after his discovery, he found himself again watching her. She was wearing a black lingerie set and was kneeling on her bed, a slightly distraught expression on her face.

“No, thankfully I’m okay,” she said, and her voice made Jumin’s heart flutter. “It just isn’t working anymore. A lot of smoke came out and I had to call a tow truck.”

He paid attention to the comments as they appeared and figured out it was about her car breaking down. She proceeded to explain how much she needed it to get to work and that she still didn’t have the money for it.

“So, if anyone can donate at least $5 I’d be really thankful,” she shrugged with a sheepish smile that didn’t match with the website he was watching her in.

For the first time ever, he moved his fingers to the keyboard and typed a message.

user18368: ‘How much does it take to fix your car?’

He watched her eyes go to her screen and read his comment.

“Oh, it’s about $2000. So yeah, I’m hoping I can get some here and then maybe sell some of my stuff, I don’t know,” she answered, fixing the strap on her bra.

The big golden ‘Donate’ button seemed to get bigger as he weighed his options. Jumin wasn’t an impulsive person, but seeing her sad face and the fact $2000 wasn’t a lot of money for him to begin with, he impulsively took out his credit card and filled out the form to send the money she needed.

The look of surprise on her face was enough for him to smile when she saw his donation appear on the screen. The cute way she covered her mouth with her hands as she bounced on the bed with glee was all Jumin needed to stop asking what the other people in the chat meant by calling him a ‘simp’. She thanked him, or well, she thanked user18368 for the donation and said she would call him later for his reward.

Reward?

Jumin’s eyes flickered to the stop of the screen where he saw the title of that day’s stream: ‘Emergency giveaway: 1 on 1 session! <3’.

Oh.

Not even five minutes after she finished the stream, he saw a small pop-up on the website that said ‘Sweetheart’ wanted to chat. Jumin swallowed thick and clicked on the ‘Accept’ button, not sure what he was doing. The girl appeared on his screen and waved at him, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen on her face.

“Hey! Thanks again for the car money. I owe you my life,” she joked, bouncing a little on her bed. Jumin stayed silent. His camera and microphone were off, but she was still smiling at him, and unlike the previous times, she was smiling just at him. “Hey, you don’t have to turn on your camera if you’re uncomfortable, but maybe you could turn your mic on? I’m always nervous some kid got here and I’m corrupting a minor,” she explained with a giggle. Jumin pressed on the microphone button.

“Definitely not a child.”

The girl’s eyes widened a little at the sound of his voice, her cheeks blushing at the same time. She bit her lip and then put on a smile again.

“Okay, what would you like to do? Would you like me to do something you like?”

“No,” Jumin answered quickly. “No, I-- I honestly didn’t know there was a prize behind this. I just wanted to send you the money you needed because I’ve been watching you for a while and I wanted to help out.”

“Oh, for how long?” she asked, curiously.

“A couple of weeks,” he said, embarrassed. “If that’s okay.”

“It’s totally okay,” she assured him, smiling again just the way he was starting to fall for. “I don’t really do a lot of shows in public, but sometimes I agree to do other… stuff in private sessions like this,” she said, playing with her hands.

“Like what?” he asked, intrigued.

“Like… well, sometimes I tell them what I would like someone to do to me. Sometimes I play with myself a bit,” she said, her fingers stroking the hem of her cleavage. Jumin felt himself getting hard at every move she made. “Or I watch them touch themselves. But if you don’t want to turn on your camera it’s really okay. I can tell you what to do.”

“What to do?”

“Uh-huh,” she hummed. “For example, I’d like you to lower your pants right now and touch yourself over your underwear. That is, if you’re wearing any,” she added with a cheeky smile.

Jumin looked at his locked bedroom door, not sure what to do. He had never been one to enjoy these kinds of situations, but there was something about her that drew him to oblige to her every word. She was waiting for him patiently, her innocent face a sharp contrast to what she was asking him to do. Still, he started touching himself over his pajama bottoms, his cock twitching at the attention.

“Mmmm, are you by any chance a little hard?” her voice rang, making him look at the screen again.

“Yeah,” he muttered. Jimin felt dirty, he felt like someone was going to catch him doing something indecorous, but he also couldn’t stop himself from complying to her orders.

“I always take that as a compliment,” she smiled, sticking her tongue out playfully. “Can you touch yourself directly now?”

Jumin did as told, freeing his cock and starting to pump it. He let out a groan as he made contact with his erection and right when he was about to apologize, he saw her biting her lips.

“I like your voice,” she commented, playing with her black babydoll. Jumin kept pumping himself, feeling somewhat proud she was reacting to his voice as well. “Now, I don’t want any fast movements. Just slow, like this,” she said, moving her hand on the screen.

He imitated her hand movements with his own, imagining for a second she was there with him instead of behind a screen.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He wanted to go faster, but her hand was still moving slowly and he wouldn’t be the one to do anything but what she asked him to. He saw her biting his lip when he talked again.

“Okay. Now slowly circle your tip with your thumb. But softly, as if it was a small lick,” she winked. She waited for him to do as she said, his breathing becoming more ragged with every second that went by.

Jumin’s deep grunts were making her squirm on her seat. How could someone’s voice be that attractive? She wished he turned on his camera, but knew better than to pressure him to do so. Closing her eyes, her right hand travelled to her front, underneath her lingerie and started rubbing her clit. She let out a soft mewl, her middle finger drawing circles around her clit, making her see stars.

“Keep pumping yourself, a little faster now” she said, trying to ignore how much she was panting at her own ministrations. “But please, let me hear you more.”

With one hand, he brought his laptop closer to him, so she could listen to his voice better. Jumin was never one to do these things. He had been thought better, he knew the proper way to act with a lady, but… the way she was slightly bouncing on the bed as she touched herself had caused a short circuit inside his head.

“Keep going, keep going,” she whispered, a moan escaping her lips. She parted her legs and even if he couldn’t see anything, the sole sight of her hand rubbing against her while her face was contorted in pure pleasure was enough to send Jumin over the edge. He grunted as he did so, staining his stomach with his release, as his eyes were still glued on the screen.

She kept touching herself, the sound of Jumin’s orgasm obviously affecting her, as her back arched as she kept her hand moving rapidly.

A dark idea crossed Jumin’s mind as he saw her getting closer, an idea he might not have acted on unless he was sure she couldn’t see him, like in that moment.

“Keep going,” Jumin instructed her, his voice a bit hoarse as he was just coming back to his senses. She opened the eyes and looked at the screen, her cheeks bright red, and nodded. In a matter of seconds, she was orgasming in front of him, and Jumin thought he had never seen a woman more beautiful than her. Even as she broke down, her face looked pristine, innocent, and the way she hadn’t even undressed herself or seen him for her to come undone was making his head spin.

She inhaled deeply as she tried to regulate her breathing, a shy smile as she looked at the front camera.

“Sorry, I-- Your voice is just… really hot,” she muttered, looking down at her hands.

“It's okay. You’re very enticing yourself,” he replied, wishing he was able to pull her on his lap and hold her close after sharing such a moment.

She thanked him again for the money and he shrugged it off. The little wave she did to him as she said goodbye stayed on his mind for the rest of the week.

---

It was like everyone he met knew what he had done one week ago. Jumin knew they didn’t, but that didn’t help from feeling stressed whenever someone looked at him for a second longer than needed. The girl with the long brown hair and big eyes was living on his mind, twisting and twirling the red strings he had there, only managing him to confuse him even more. He had avoided her stream the last few days, wanting to desintoxicate himself, but quickly learnt it wasn’t possible.

“We’re here,” Jaehee said, as Driver Kim stopped the car. It was supposed to be a short balance meeting after the last RFA party, and taking into consideration everyone’s schedules, they had agreed to meet at a cafe downtown. Jaehee had assured everyone the meeting shouldn’t be longer than half an hour, but that their presence was necessary as she needed everyone to sign some documentation for the donations.

When he entered the coffee shop with Jaehee, he saw Saeyoung, Zen and Yoosung were already there. After muttering ‘good afternoon’, she sat on his seat and watched idly as Saeyoung was teasing Yoosung over something he didn’t quite hear.

“Now that the CEO-in-line is here, we can finally order,” Zen said, rolling his eyes at him. Jumin ignored him, not having the energy to respond to that. The actor called over one of the waitressed, who quickly approached their table.

“Hi! Are you ready to order now?” she asked in a cheerful tone.

Jumin didn’t even have to look up to know whose voice he had just heard.

#mystic messenger #jumin han #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #jumin han x mc #jumin x mc #mysme jumin #mm jumin #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger imagines #mysme headcanons #mysme imagines #allie after hours

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cordelia-cardale · 3 years

Note

The prompt number 16 is quite interesting lol 16. “Control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” Choose the ship/character you like :)

Hello! Ok, there are literally zero reasons as to why it took me a year to write this bloody thing except maybe that I had some not fun moments and also this literally never could have been written if I hadn’t waited this long. I don’t know if you’ll read it. You’ve probably forgotten about this in all fairness but if you do read it I hope you like it.

Also taking this opportunity to thank everyone for following me. I’m at 400 followers! This is insane. I’m not sure why you’re all following tbh but to celebrate I forced myself to finish this long overdue fic, hope you like it! Also disclaimer: I love all of the characters from TLH. I am aware of the existing debate around Matthew and Alastair and my writing in here does not represent my point of view. But I I decided to represent Matthew and his view in this way for story telling purpose. Please don’t come at me with gun blazing. If you do wanna talk, we can, but in peace 😊💕

Somewhere Where Our Shadows Meet, It Feels Like Coming Home -

a Fairdale one-shot (is that even their brotp name???)

This was the fifth time James was rereading the passage of the book he had picked up. It was no use. Each time he finished the page he had already forgotten the beginning. His mind was foggy with a multitude of thoughts. Thoughts about Lucie and her strange dalliance with a boy who used to be a ghost, about Grace which inevitably led to unsolicited questions on his own identity, and, as much as he tried not to think about it, thoughts of Matthew and Cordelia. He really did not enjoy these last kinds of thoughts. He couldn’t help but imagine what kind of relationship could have blossomed between the two during their trip to Paris. He knew how Matthew felt, but when it came to Cordelia, he had no single clue. He constantly wondered as to whether she hated or loved him. Daring to hope that he hadn’t ruined everything. Just for that hope to vanish the next second because there was no possible way he did not ruin it. And even if ever decided to ask her, he would have no idea how to approach the topic without sounding like an arrogant bastard.

James let out a long breath, rolling his shoulders, trying to let go of the tension. He was pretty sure that if he ventured to look at himself in the mirror that was hung above the chimney, he would see huge dark circles beneath his eyes. Circles which color could rival the color of London’s night sky. A result of many nights plagued by bad dreams and worry. During some of those sleepless nights, James had gone to Cordelia’s room. The first time it was under the pretext of looking for books. Her room had been full of her personal belongings. A bottle of perfume on her vanity table, an evening dress carefully laid out on the chaise longue, a copy of Majun and Layla on her bedside table. So many little pieces of who Cordelia was scattered in a room she had run away from. She hadn’t been back to Curzon street since that night. Upon arriving in London, she had decided to move back with her mother using the excuse of the soon-to-be new baby’s arrival. James kept going to her home though, eventually admitting to himself that he did so because of the smell of Jasmin that lingered. It was the closest thing he had to a semblance of her presence in the house. It was a soft smell that grounded him. It was also a heady smell that reminded him of the sweetness he had lost.

He shook himself out of thoughts of her. Something he had gotten quite good at to be fair, considering how many times he thought of her in the span of a day. Pushing himself up from the table he was leaning against, he closed the book he was reading, giving up on understanding it, and made his way to the window. Outside the sky was tinged in pastel colors drawing the day to a close. James would slowly make his way back home. He would rehash the day, come up with new plans to wake his sister from her deep sleep, find out that these plans would fail again come morning, and finally decide that he would need to eat a bite because going to bed with an empty stomach was just not advisable. His parents had offered for him to stay at the Institute with them but James had refused. He preferred the calm and silence of Curzon Street. He found that the bittersweet cloak that covered his house was, in some ways, almost reassuring. Maybe he was going insane. Just when he was ready to go bid his goodnight to his family, he heard the doors of the library open wide behind him and slammed shut again.

“Did you know?” Matthew growled. James might have thought that he himself had gone slightly deranged chasing down the smell of Jasmin throughout his home, but at least he did not look half as unhinged as Matthew looked right this instant. Matthew’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, and his fist clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white.

“Are you alright?” James asked, keeping an even tone.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?”

Matthew took a few strides in James’ direction. His stare holding James’ gaze in place as if daring James to contrary him. “Did you know about Thomas?”

“Um yes,” James nodded, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I do know Thomas.” At that Matthew narrowed his eyes and almost seemed as if he was trying hard not to grind his teeth. Noted. Attempts at humor and alleviating the situation were not going to work. “What about him?” James tried again. His smile replaced by a serious gaze.

“Did you know about Alastair?” Matthew asked, almost spatting out Alastair’s name.

James took a few steps back, reinstating the much-needed personal space for such a conversation. James did know about Alastair, but only because Thomas had looked so miserable and James had pried so insistently that Thomas had had no choice but to give up his well-kept secret. James had understood, sometimes you couldn’t choose who you fell in love with. Sometimes you fell in love with something that only you saw in the other person. Love was usually shrouded in mystery this way, best not to question how it worked. Obviously, by the look of things, Matthew did not agree.

“Please sit down,” James pointed to one of the green velvet armchairs. “I’ll pour you a drink.” James said, making his way to the stash of liquor in one of the dark wooden commodes. James had always wondered what kind of people, for what kind of situation kept alcohol in the library of all rooms. It always seemed to him that a secret stash of tea would have been more appropriate. Now he understood what kind of situation required people to put alcohol in every room, even if it was just one abandoned bottle of Parkmore. “Is Whiskey alright?” James turned his head in Matthew’s direction.

“So you knew?” Matthew answered, seemingly in a staring competition with the mustard yellow wallpaper in front of him. “He told you?”

Whiskey it would be for a total lack of all other present choices James thought as he started to pour a glass.

Matthew kept going on his verbal onslaught towards the wallpaper. In all fairness mustard yellow was a color that could potentially enrage everyone. “How can he? It’s Alastair that we are talking about. It’s not as if there wasn’t any other man in London that Thomas couldn’t have a fling for.”

James very much doubted that a fling could start to describe Thomas’s feelings for Alastair. However, seeing how Matthew was nearly spitting out every single one of his words, he thought it safer not to share this piece of information.

“Matthew, please calm down and control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” James handed the glass to Matthew, which he waved away.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink.”

James squinted. “Since when?”

“Since Paris.”

James couldn’t help but feel a pinch in his chest at the mention of Paris. Paris city of lights, city of lovers. An escape his friend had taken with the only girl James had ever, truly, loved since he was barely old enough to understand the concept. It was a wondrous thing how much pain a single word could hold.

“What a strange place to decide to stop drinking.” James took a sip of the honey-colored liquid, trying to hide his hurt to the best of his ability.

“Cordelia asked me to. That was her condition for coming with me.”

James did not want to go in the general direction of a conversation that involved Cordelia. Especially not if that conversation was with Matthew. He had written a letter. James had understood. He slightly had the urge to strangle his best friend for going with her; for loving her; he did not quite know. But that was it. They hadn’t spoken of Paris nor of Cordelia together and that was for the best. Neutral conversations were for the best, they could avoid the hurt and the blame, and if James let it come to that again who knew what would be next. Yet he couldn’t help but ask.

“Why did you leave?”

Matthew turned to James, his anger receding ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” A beat, a choice to either keep going or retreat before it is too late. A beat, a choice to see where this could go “why did you go to Paris?”

“You owe me an answer first. Did you know about Alastair?”

“Yes.”

“How could you not tell me?”

“You weren’t here Matthew.” James’ voice almost broke, almost. “How was I supposed to tell you anything?”

James had wanted to throw so much more at Matthew’s face. Throw words that he wouldn’t be able to take back. He had been feeling so alone. So utterly lost after Grace’s admission. After Cordelia’s departure. He had needed his best friend. He had wanted to tell him so much, to figure it all out with him. To have Matthew hold him at times when he didn’t know if he could hold it up together and tell him, simply, that he believed in him. But Matthew hadn’t been in London. He had been in Paris. Happy. With Cordelia.

“And you accept it?” Matthew asked, carefully studying James.

“I guess it depends on what we are talking about. In any case,” James turned away from the fireplace to look at his friend. “why are you so against it if it makes Thomas happy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because Alastair doesn’t deserve to be loved?”

“Maybe it is more about deserving a second chance rather than deserving of love. Maybe it is about getting a chance to fix your mistakes. Surely no one is worthless of that.”

“Sometimes the mistakes are too big to fix.” Matthew shrugged, breaking eye contact.

“Is that why you ran away?” The question was asked so softly as if asked any louder and James would be terrified to see Matthew run away again. James wasn’t sure he could bear it, no matter how much frustration towards Matthew he still felt.

“I didn’t run.” Matthew shook his head. His gaze far and distant as if in another land, in a shadow realm. “I took a train, there’s a difference. And I left because of Cordelia.”

James had an inkling he hadn’t left because of Cordelia but rather Cordelia had followed in a desperate pursuit to drown both of their sorrows in the glamour of a city like Paris. After all, Paris was so similar to Matthew, it was no wonder he had chosen it. At the surface, both were golden and shining like a polished jewel box. Once that jewel box was open, however, shadows, pain, and sadness would pour out like a damn breaking loose.

“I never thought you’d try to run away from me.” James knelt in front of Matthew, his knees landing on the soft midnight blue carpet. “That one day, I’d become a part of the shadows that you try to outrun.”

Matthew turned around so fast and reached for James’ face. His green eyes were darker than usual. “You’re not my shadows, Jamie Bach. You’re my home. You are the reason why I still believe I’m worth being forgiven for.” He said those words like a damned man dying for a confession, following blindly a faith he held so dear to his heart, hoping that that faith could be his saving grace. James understood that he had become that faith.

“Forgiven for what?” James asked.

“I can’t tell you.”

“It’s me, Matthew. What is so bad that you cannot tell me?”

“I can’t tell you because I’m afraid. I need you to stay with me. I need you to believe that I am good, even if it means that you believe in a lie.”

“Matthew …”

“If you keep choosing me and believing in me,” Matthew interrupted. If he couldn’t finish now, he never would. “then maybe I can believe that I am no monster.”

“You are not a monster, you are my parabatai.”

James felt like they were back on that bridge, at night, so close to being let in in Matthew’s secrets. Back then James hadn’t been in control of himself, he hadn’t known what was happening to him. He had lost his chance. It would not happen again. It could not happen again. James was so tired of walking a frayed rope line with Matthew, guessing at hinted truths. Being someone��s constant north took work and time and effort but because it was Matthew, James could do it. He would always do it and he needed Matthew to know that as clearly as they both knew that one day would come when they would both cross the other side together. Because after all, that was what it had always been about. Despite shadows and lies and deceptions and miscommunication, they would always be together. So James continued.

“Do you know what that means? It means that I made a promise to you. I said entreat me not to leave thee, for wither thou goest, I will go. If aught but death part thee and me. I will not leave. No matter what you’ve done, I will stand by you, because that is the choice that I have made. That I still make. There is not a thing in this world that you could have done that would make me stop loving you, calon fy enaid.”

Matthew looked up at James and teased “Does that mean that you accept my feelings for Cordelia?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I must say, I don’t think I’m her type. It’s a pity, really.” Some strands of Matthew’s hair fell in his eyes as he shook his head. James could see the old Matthew again. The carefree one that balanced out his own shadows so well. The one he would choose and forgive a thousand times over because he too was his home.

“Matthew.”

“All right, all right.” Matthew threw his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. “I just … wish you could promise that I would not lose you.”

“I promise.”

“You can’t promise something you don’t know.” Matthew said before he started to talk about his own misbeliefs that had led to a terrible accident. James listened and did not judge and stayed long in the night after Matthew had said everything that had weighted so heavy on his heart for so long. And somewhere, under the warm light of oil lamps and next to a warm fire, the frayed rope between the two started to mend and James could only describe the feeling as one of coming home.

Tag List: @lady-ofroses @clockworknights @the-axewielding-herondale @tess-the-dreamer @coloandreablog

Do let me know if you want to be on the tag list and I’ll happily add you! (I have a tag list now visibly, wild and mind-blown) I will try to post more now that my exams are somewhat done. Who am I kidding? There will always be more stuff to do XD

#tlh fanfic #the last hours fanfiction #the last hours #tlh #coi spoilers #coi #chain of iron #chain of gold #chog #Matthew Fairchild #james herondale #lucie herondale #jesse blackthorn #cordelia carstairs #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #grace blackthorn #jordelia

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hypnomicimagines · 3 years

Text

☂️Rainy Day Blues☂️[Nurude Sasara]☂️

Oh, how tragedy loved to strike Sasara when he least expected it.

He had been walking to your house with an extra pep in his step, the fresh bouquet he’d picked up along the way only lifting his mood. He was stuck in daydreams even before he reached you, thinking about how lovely you’d look that night and how he couldn’t wait to do the little things like hold your hand as you were on the way to your date destination. He thought that nothing could possibly dampen his happiness, that him finally confessing after years of being in relationship purgatory had made him see the brighter side of any situation, but it seemed he still had blinders on in some aspects. His parade was about to be rained on.

Literally.

Sasara didn’t know where the icy rain had come from but it hit him like a sack of bricks, goosebumps rising on his skin as his leisurely walk turned into a marathon run as he made his way to your apartment complex. He hadn’t checked the weather forecast, who did that anymore? Clearly Sasara’s hubris had upset the weather Gods as he caught sight of himself in a window, no longer looking like your handsome suitor but a sad clown that had just walked through a door with a bucket of water precariously balanced on top of it. The bouquet is just as pathetic as he is, and hey, aren’t flowers supposed to like water? Why were they drooping like that? You’d probably laugh in his face when you saw them.

You did.

He had to get you back somehow for laughing at his plight despite the fact your laughter had quickly washed away every negative emotion he’d previously been feeling. He had to get you back somehow and decided to show you his best ‘wet dog’ impersonation, shaking his hair out in your doorway and giving you a little preview of what it was like outside. The rain had only started to come down harder, thunder and lightning being added to the mix, meaning it was unlikely the date would continue as planned. Not to mention his hair which he had spent an entire three minutes and seven seconds on was now a poofed out mess due to how he chose to dry out his hair, not that you seemed to mind. You laughed again at his saggy bouquet, telling him you loved it no matter how pathetic it looked (he hoped that was the last time he ever heard that).

“We can just spend the night in. Why do you look so excited that I said that? Did you think I’d tell you to walk home?”

“I’d never accuse you of something so cold-hearted!”

“Good, I’m glad to see the rain hasn’t washed away your remaining brain cell. Come in and change your clothes, too, as much as I love seeing you be a complete eyesore, I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Shouldn’t you stripping me of my clothes wait until after dinner? Not that I mind.”

“You know what… Maybe walking home in the rain is just what you need. Maybe you’ll get struck by lightning and have some sort of epiphany that’ll make you funny.”

“Now you really sound like Rosho,” Sasara sighed out, fighting the smile that wanted to break out on his face so he could keep up the ‘hurt’ façade he was putting on, “To think that the person I love most would say such things to me… I’ll go back outside to hide my tears!”

“Bye.”

You closed the door behind him as he stepped into your apartment, heading straight to your bedroom and thinking about how he had essentially done a speed run of the date. He hadn’t suspected he’d be here until a little bit later but he couldn’t say he was complaining as you joined him, digging through your drawers for some spare clothes that he had left behind the various other times he’d stayed over on a whim. He purposely left his clothes with you just so you’d always have something to remember him by, weaseling his way into your heart first and now your home, hoping that he might even get a whole draw just for his stuff one day. His apartment was certainly the winner with its scenic view but since you had yet to talk about the whole ‘moving in’ thing, he decided he’d get you used to the idea by leaving random things of his behind so you were used to it when it finally did happen.

“Here you go.” You set the clothes down on the counter, taking a second to admire how cute he looked with a wet mop of hair on his head, reaching over to run your fingers through it just for good measure, “I’d say take a shower but I don’t actually want you struck by lightning.”

“But you seem to like my hair so much… It could become a permanent fixture with the help of electricity.”

“I do like it,” You confirmed, smiling as you stroked his hair fondly, Sasara’s heart pounding loudly in his chest, “Almost as much as I like you. Get changed while I try to find some candles. I can’t imagine we’re going to have power too long so…”

You spoke the unfortunate lightning strike into existence that completely knocked out anything electrical in the apartment building and part of Sasara wonders if you had spoken the rain into existence, too. Had this been your plan all along? Had you wanted to just trap him in your room from the get-go, using him for your own needs and then discarding him afterward? Sasara considered suggesting that type of supervillain roleplay on a less romantic night but for now his head was still in the clouds, wanting to do simple things like hold your hand and cuddle against you, sucking the warmth out of you as he had no spare warmth to give at this point.

“Y-You’re cold!” Sasara had reached out to touch you when the lights had first gone out, wanting to assure you were still there and okay first, “Just be careful as you get changed! I’ll be right back!”

You’re only gone about ten minutes but it’s so painfully lonely in the bathroom without you, Sasara already thinking about the letter he’d write to you if you had gone off to war. He would be the lonely maiden waiting by the window, longing to see their love again, dramatically falling to the ground as he received the news that you had passed away. He was already thinking about how he’d meet your ghost in the afterlife to confirm he never fell in love again when you entered the bathroom, face highlighted by a small candle that he’s almost positive he had gifted you.

“Come on, come on! It’s a little better in the living room and the blankets are all out.” You moved the candle to one hand and reached down to grab his, fingers lacing together without words having to even be exchanged. “I don’t want you getting lost.”

“The only place I’ll get lost is in your eyes, beautiful.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re lucky you’re cute? Because you’re sooo lucky you’re cute!” He can tell from your tone that there’s a wide smile on your face, the one that made him feel like the most successful comedian in the world. Getting you to laugh was no easy task and you had never been one to show him even a dollop of mercy when it came to his material but it made it all the more worth it when he got to hear you laugh. Every time you laughed an angel grew its wings, that’s how the saying went, right? It doesn’t matter as his brain is entirely centered around you and only you, especially as the two of you seat yourselves on your ridiculously comfortable couch.

“I don’t know what we’ll eat… It’s gonna be cold and sad.”

“As long as we’re not cold and sad, it’s fine, right?”

“Fair enough.”

His arm wrapped around you as you threw your legs across his lap, the blanket quickly following suit as you curled up into his side. You wondered how many people would be surprised that Mr. Tragic Comedy was not only a total romantic but a stage five clinger, unlikely to give you a moment alone now that you had both finally settled in together. Sasara valued his privacy from time to time but when it came to you, it seemed his social battery could never run out; he wanted to be around you, to be with you, to be touching you and talking to you as much as he possibly could.

“What should we do?” Sasara quickly grew uncomfortable with the silence and you felt bad for your boyfriend, knowing his anxiety tended to spike in the silence. You wished you had something to act as white noise in the background but it seemed all you could do to distract him was talk, or listen to a slew of jokes that would have you standing in the rain rather than being in your own apartment if they were on par with the normal puns he liked to deliver.

“Tell me about your day before you got here. Did you talk to Rosho about your birthday plans?”

Sasara is grateful for the conversation starter as once he’s begun to talk, he’s adept at not shutting up again.

It was going to be a long, rainy night, but at least you got to spend it together.

#Nurude Sasara #Sasara Nurude #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypmic #Hypnomic #Hypnosis Mic x Reader #Hypnosis Microphone x Reader #Hypmic x Reader #hypnomic x reader #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Hypmic Imagines #Hypnomic Imagines #Nurude Sasara x Reader #Sasara Nurude x Reader #Scenario

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theprodigypenguin · 4 years

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Style #3 Half-Body Couple Illustration Commission of Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy and Albus Severus Potter from my Royalty AU fic, drawn by @kidovna ((Instagram)) [[PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR REMOVE ARTIST CREDITS (UNLESS YOU’RE THE ARTIST)]]

I’d like to preface this by saying this is the first time I’ve ever gotten a commission of scorbus (since normally I’m too focused on jeddy). This time, though, I decided to branch out. I’ve been getting so into my Royalty AU that I couldn’t help it. Of course there’s also the bonus that when it’s a commission, I can request scorbus the way I imagine them. Ergo why Albus is taller than Scorpius in this piece, because I am one of like five people on Tumblr who exclusively headcanon Albus as either taller or the same height as Scorpius (truthfully I headcanon them the same height, taller than James lol, but I like him taller in the Royalty AU because it fits better and considering their individual positions it is SO MUCH CUTER).

This commission embodies part of a scene from my Jeddy Royalty fic King and Lionheart. The context of the art takes place during James’ coronation, where royalty from other countries were invited to the celebration. Albus is just a prince, hence the golden circlet he wears in comparison to Scorpius’ crown, because Scorpius is the crown prince and future king of his country (James is future king in Al’s kingdom so Al is just your everyday prince, as you can probably assume). I don’t write about their dance, but they meet during the coronation and Albus, ever the gentleman, invited Scorpius to dance. We already know these boys have big hearts and an enormous capacity to love, and basically fall in love immediately. Their love is more of a side story in the plot but I really love them in this fic so far. They are SOFT.

Returning to chirping about the art itself, I love. I wanted to get a commission from @kidovna ever since @regulusarchieblack got a commission from her of Regulus and baby Teddy which is S O F T. Also because I’m head over heels in love with her version of Albus. The fluffy hair and soft eyes with the freckles. I love. So when she opened commissions I debated if I should try my luck before sending her a request.

I did send outfit and crown references, but every artist puts their own spin on things, and I’m absolutely in love with how Bhavna interpreted the references and added them to the beautiful royal babies.

I think my favorite thing about Albus is the circlet he’s wearing, because that is definitely a detail that kidovna took artistic liberties with. Since I couldn’t find a good reference for his head piece, I just sent her a whole bunch and said go crazy with the design, and she did, and it was worth it. It’s literally perfect. Both the gold of the piece itself as well as the red jewels (rubies I’d imagine) are a perfect nod to the fact Albus lives in the country that’s basically Gryffindor, where their colors are, of course, red and gold. But the green gems (emeralds!) are key nods to the fact he may live in “Gryffindor” with a family of Gryffindors, but he is, at heart, still and always will by a Slytherin. And tbh the emeralds are probably why Scorpius is drawn to Albus (and of course because of his pretty green eyes, Scorpius probably thinks he’s so fancy and elegant). And fuck. Fuck I’m not done with Al and the fucking metaphor that kidovna smacked onto this.

Word of advice, if you commission this goddess, let her take the reigns for some of the design, cuz she’s going to kick ass. Or maybe I’m just interpreting her design choices incorrectly because I’m absolutely feral. Kidovna if I’m interpreting this wrong let me know, but this is what I’ve taken from the art.

You can almost tell that Albus chose some of the clothes he’s wearing on his own. The black dress shirt he’s wearing under his tunic and coat has green accents, but the tunic and coat are black with gold accents (more Gryffindor-y). Then you see the red ascot and gloves, and I find myself wanting to jump off a bridge, because Albus in canon isn’t the biggest fan of red, so you can just imagine he was probably told or ordered to wear red if only to honor his country. But the articles of clothing that are red are also metaphorical, because he’s wearing red GLOVES and a red ASCOT. As if his touch and voice have been muted by the expectations of his father and his country. Even though he’s not the crown prince, he’s not meant to be king, he’s still expected to express a certain image, and the gloves and ascot are a metaphorical way of controlling him and keeping him in check. Baby just wants to be free and he finds that freedom with Scorpius.

Idk if it was kidovna’s intention to have the gloves and ascot interpreted like that but that’s where I am.

I also love that Albus’ clothes are almost more constricting than Scorpius’. Cuz Scorpius is dressed in a delicately adorned green tunic with silver accents and white pants (that go up to his waist which is very, I don’t want to say sexy, but I mean, high waisted white jeans on pretty boys, come on). He looks so effortlessly regal and the crown fits him so well. Yes I asked for his hair to be a little longer on purpose, cuz it looks almost more royal? His hair is neat and probably soft as hell, styled perfectly without a strand of hair out of place (or maybe one or two falling into his eyes which Albus decides is ver cute). And I will forever defend Scorpius with brown eyes like his mother’s, which is why I requested him to have brown eyes instead of blue or gray like Draco’s (not that I don’t support pale eyes Scorpius cuz I doooo I just can’t get enough of him with brown eyes and there’s NOT ENOUGH ART OF HIM WITH BROWN EYES OK).

I think I’m done ranting now, and the point of it all is I’m in love with this art, I want it carved onto my gravestone, I’m obsessed with my Royalty AU, and I feel so lucky and honored that I was able to order this commission, because kidovna is such a sweet person, and it was so totally worth it. And I know I said the same thing when I got my commission of jeddy as royalty, but getting this commission motivates me even more to work on my fic, because I have a few specific Scorbus scenes that I do plan on writing (they’re just from someone else’s point of view, like someone witnessing them falling in love).

Thank you sooooo much for taking this commission and humoring Albus being tall and Scorpius having longer hair and brown eyes. I know it’s not what you normally draw, but I’m really in love with this piece, so thank you <3

And of course you can read the jeddy royalty fanfiction, King and Lionheart, on Ao3. It is jeddy centric, but scorbus is there too, because I love them.

#scorbus #scorpius hyperion malfoy #albus severus potter #the cursed child era #royalty au #commissions #commission #commissioned art #art by kidovna #harry potter fandom #fanart #fanart commission #kidovna #jeddy #jeddy royalty au #king and lionheart #long post #longpost

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facets-and-rainbows · 4 years

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Blue Exorcist 10th anniversary book Q&A session

The 10th anniversary book has a section where Katoh answers 100 questions submitted by fans on Twitter, so here they are translated/paraphrased! May contain manga spoilers up to the recent flashback arc, so be warned.

(Note that I’m playing it very fast and loose here because there are A HUNDRED OF THEM, so not exact wordings, but it should capture the gist. Lemme know if there are any you want elaborated on)

1. Katoh likes the feel of traditional drawing more than digital but is impressed with how far digital has come

2. Meph THOROUGHLY ABUSES spacetime to watch all his shows and ensure that he gets all the merch he wants

3. Did the girls take all of Yukio’s school uniform buttons in middle school? Yes, they did (apparently it’s like A Thing for girls to ask for a button from their crush at middle school graduation, based on some sad movie from the 60s where a guy who got drafted as a kamikaze pilot gave a girl one of his uniform buttons to remember him by)

4. Rin's tail is about a meter long

5. There are tons of servants working at Mephisto's mansion. Belial is in charge of them

6. Katoh borrows from all sorts of neat real locations when making settings

7. Katoh identifies with pretty much all the characters the most! Except Lucifer.

8. Demon designs she's proud of include the impure king and hachirou, pretty much anything that was the main one in an arc

9. Katoh lists a bunch of her favorite musical artists/music she’s listening to recently: King Gnu, Official Hige Dandism, Kenshi Yonezu, BAD HOP, Sakanaction, Keyakizaka 46, Hypnosis Mic, Aimer, B’Z, Queen Bee.

10. Awww the rabbit manga that characters are often reading isn't just Robo to Usakichi, it's an even older one that she drew as a little kid

11. She likes industrial style interior designs

12. Rin and Yukio alternated who got the top bunk growing up, because they couldn't agree on it lol

13. Katoh cares a whole lot about panel layouts and speech bubble positions, might even be her favorite part of the process (it shows!)

4. Katoh does NOT have a mashou, lol

15. Rin has probably been practicing in secret so he can learn to carry stuff with his tail

16. Izumo probably got into shojo manga around 1st grade, her mom had some around the house

17. Specialty dishes: Rin - lots of stuff but especially nabe Yuri - stuff you can throw together quickly Shiro - stuff he learned from Yuri and/or cookbooks, alongside teaching Rin Yukio - Does. Not. Cook.

18. Can't pick a favorite place she's been on research, but there's no place like Japan

19. Kinzou's band isn't currently meeting because demons, but he's probably still thinking of new songs

20. Hardest characters to draw: anyone with detailed flowing hair. Hardest to write for: Lightning and Gedouin. She had to go read books about serial killers specifically for material for Gedouin, lol

21. Suguro actually gets a dorm room to himself, though allegedly Yukio is technically assigned as his roommate, lol. Didn't end up that way what with Yukio being a teacher and also Rin’s whole...situation

22. Shiemi makes some of her own hair accessories! Cute

23. Katoh doesn't mind if you include stuff with fan letters but check with the editor first

24. Time for making each chapter: Planning/storyboarding: 1-5 days. Sketching: 3-5 days. Drawing/inking: the rest. Just...the rest of the time

25. Neither Suguro nor Izumo have dated before and neither is currently dating. But that's probably just because things were hectic for them! It could happen

26. Yukio breaks 5 or 6 pairs of glasses a year, someone get this kid a strap or something

27. How many spare glasses does Yukio have? Check the fanbook lol it's in there (dang it Katoh)

28. The demon she wants us to pay the most attention to is Lucifer. Because plot.

29. What's under the Order's big meeting table? It's a BOTTOMLESS PIT and if you fall in it you DIE that's what makes it COOL (laughs)

30. What are the job requirements for the angelic legion? Literally just Arthur liking you and inviting you to join

31. She WANTS to do more character profiles but just hasn't gotten to it

32. Rin's tail feels like a cat tail, texture wise

33. The "red Assiah fire" is literally just actual fire nothing special

34. Rin's current hair color is light blue fading to white at the ends

35. Thoughts on Rin's growth: she likes that he stays positive in awful situations and she also thinks it's very main character of him to face the past instead of avoiding it

36. Mephisto didn't purposely surround Rin with stuffed animals when he woke up after going crispy. Mephisto's bed is just Like That

37. Kurikara was based on a cool sword she found in a sword book, but that one was technically just a ceremonial sword. The symbol on it us a Sanskrit letter kaan (sp?) associated with Fudou Myouou

38. Kuro can communicate with normal cats and hangs out with them often

39. Sometimes Shiemi's skirt is extra fancy around the hem what's up with that? Apparently it's an optional accessory that comes with the skirts help I haven't noticed this and don't know any fashion terms in any language

40. When coloring, Katoh always tries to have an overall theme in mind ("emphasis on blue" etc) so it comes together in the end

41. Yes the twins are genetically related to Shiro because of Goro (she says they're like his nephews but I say GENETICALLY at least they'd be indistinguishable from his children)

42. Strongest mom of all the strong moms around here? Yuri! Did you SEE her give birth??

43. Are you careful about your own health Katoh-sensei? Not particularly! Her mom has had to bring her food at work sometimes! Don't do this at home kids

44. At the dating events Shura goes to, does she drink cocktails in moderation? Yeah, she probably downplays her normal drinking habits at these things. But normally she's down for just about any kind of drink

45. Lucifer just really likes oysters okay

46. How many pages of manga does Katoh draw in a day? If she's being good about self-care: three. Maximum number ever: TEN

47. Mephisto is one of those folks who can eat like a garbage compactor and never gain weight. Possibly because his body resists that sort of change the same way it resists aging etc

48. First food Rin cooked: fish burger type patty. Yukio's favorite things Rin cooks: fish simmered in soy sauce, yellowtail with daikon radish. It's fish all the way down

49: Did Rin ever get more monthly allowance from Mephisto? It doubled! He gets TWO 2000 yen bills now (rip) [T/N: That's uh, that's USD $37.26 a month or 33.10 euro]

50. Why isn't Rin more popular with the girls? He gets nervous talking to them, plus he's too oblivious to notice even if he DID have some fans

51. Why change Suguro's hair? She gets bored with keeping everything the same, and she wanted a visual representation that he was getting serious and going into kind of a training arc

52. Things Katoh pays extra attention to when drawing: trying to capture the feel of whatever she's drawing (like "that looks warm and soft" or "I bet that guy stinks" cough Lightning cough)

53: Does Rin take after Yuri more? (He's got her eyes!) Katoh tried to draw Yuri so she looks like both twins. Personality, too - Yukio has her smarts and Rin has her optimism

54: Do you ever wanna be like Mephisto? Well she'd like to be able to get away with just ANYTHING EVER, but no, let's not be like Mephisto

55. Konekomaru not only carries around a cat toy in case he meets any cats, he MAKES cat toys to carry around based on what he thinks the cats would like

56. How'd you come up with Shima? Go read the fan book!

57. Do the kids have Twitter/Instagram accounts? Rin - probably not. Konekomaru might be on some social media. Paku and Izumo are totally on instagram

58. Is there something Rin makes that you wish you could try? All of it! That's the whole idea! He's good at cooking!

59. Will we ever have a (G-rated) reveal of what ALL of Mamushi and her family's tattoos look like? Maybe! She'll think about it

60. Does Arthur have a repertoire of different hairstyles? Not really, he just puts some of it up on the top. Heck he might even have people to do that for him

61. If you wrote a shojo manga what would it be about? She'd have to do a lot of research before even coming up with a story, since there are so many style differences between the genres aside from just the subject

62. The other two of Mephisto's top 3 favorite foods: Cup ramen and....f-fried bubblegum?? Is that a THING???

63. Where do you start when drawing a character? Usually the outline of their face but if it's a complex pose/composition she'll start with whatever's in the foreground (like hands)

64. If Katoh could have a familiar, what demon would she choose? Mephisto. As the all-powerful author, she might actually be able to command him as a familiar!

66. If you swapped Yukio and Rin's relationship around what would change? not much, you'd pretty much have Rin going to the Illuminati and Yukio going to the past

67. Top 3 foods/souvenirs to try in Kyushu? Well she doesn't know what’s good CURRENTLY but when she was there she always used to like burdock tempura udon, hakata torimon (a kind of manju with white bean paste inside), and Chikae style cod roe. today I learned Katoh went to high school in Kyushu

68. Katoh listens to music a lot while she's storyboarding, then when she and the assistants are all drawing and inking they put various videos/movies and stuff on in the background

69. For all his hitting on girls, is Shima actually popular with the ladies at all? He's got enough girls in his life that he probably COULD find a girlfriend if he really wanted, but the double agent thing tends to get in the way. He still wouldn't be as popular as Yukio though (side thought/translator’s note: Shima would be proud of being number 69.)

70. Katoh has the ending planned out in a big-picture way, but there are still a few details here and there that she's fretting over

71. It's cute when the boys put their ties over their shoulders when they're working on something! Where'd that come from? She just figured a tie might get in the way and that seemed like a realistic way to get it out of the way

72. Looks like Yukio is getting some facial hair! What about Rin? They're both about the age for it, but maybe Rin can't grow a beard yet. Maybe a little peach fuzz here and there

73. Katoh's favorite blue exorcist merch? There were some exorcist licenses a while back, and the exorcist pins. Basically it's really cool that these little accessories she drew ACTUALLY EXIST NOW, LIKE YOU CAN HOLD THEM IN YOUR HANDS

74. Okay realtalk how long do we have left, I don't want the series to end yet? We're solidly in the second half by now but it's not, like, ABOUT to end yet

75. Katoh would be a Knight meister, based on what characters she likes to play in games and such

76. How many people in the whole exorcism cram school? More than you think! She doesn't give a number but apparently licensed exorcists also attend classes for new meisters, etc, so there's a wide age range attending

77. How's Arthur feel about, like, studying Taming on the way to becoming Paladin? He's at least mostly accepted that you have to use demons to fight demons effectively

78. Konekomaru started wearing glasses in his first year of middle school, so like 7th grade (more recent than I thought!) He has one spare pair, in contrast to Yukio lol

79. Katoh's current obsessions? Ghost/scary stories! She's even been going to live readings of them recently

80. Media Katoh consumes for inspiration? A wide range of foreign teen drama, horror/suspense, shojo manga, light novels, anime, etc. Special focus on things where two boys are in conflict or there are brothers involved

81. If they weren't exorcists what jobs would they have? Rin - chef. Yukio - doctor. Shiemi - uh, florist?

82. Inspiration for the design of True Cross Town? Katoh and her assistants gathered up a bunch of references, picked out stuff they felt matched the tone, and mashed them all up together

83. Did you use any references etc for the school/exorcist uniforms? She says she probably should have but she just kind of made them up before publication

84. Favorite part of drawing? For color pages, picking out a color scheme. For black and white, drawing in all the little details (though she doesn't always get time to lately)

85. Once again confirms the demon kings' weird hair is a representation of their horns. ADDS THAT PEOPLE WHO CAN'T SEE DEMONS CAN'T SEE THE WEIRD HAIR

86. Now that Yukio's at the Illuminati, where's he gonna get his Jump SQ and spare glasses? Well he probably never planned to stay for long, but hey it's a big ship and they might have an optometrist and/or newsstand there

87. Do you base the demon characters on any references etc? Not really, she just gets a general idea of popular demon designs and then makes up her own in her own style

88. Merchandise Katoh personally wants to have made: stuff that an adult could just use in their day to day life. Also, it's not gonna happen, but if her favorite figure brand made AoEx figures she could die happy

89. If Beelzebub's host body was a beautiful woman, how would Shima react? Would the womanizing win out over the bug phobia? Katoh replies that Shima would probably just faint from being near a girl that pretty, before the bugs even got involved

90. Will the twins ever get to smile and eat dinner together again?? We'll just have to wait and see!

91. What do you check at a "scenario check"? what's a scenario check man I dunno They check for people being out of character or the setting feeling off. They had a lot of these checks for the anime, but they also do them for the drama CD, games, and all that other stuff where multiple authors are involved

92. Why does Shura use baldy as an insult for people who are clearly not bald? She feels like they have some kind of metaphorical, mental kind of "baldness" and she's calling them out on it. Whatever that means

93. After Blue Exorcist ends, what do you want to draw next? She has SO MANY IDEAS, SO MANY

94. Did Katoh make up the Shinto chants that, for example, Izumo used against Gedouin? They're assembled from bits of actual Shinto prayers according to what feels right in the scene

95. Yukio reads the Jump SQ, right, and, just hear me out here, he likes gag manga, right? Does this mean he reads Salaryman Yukio? It's something he would read, but let's say that in the AoEx universe there's just a very similar manga that he finds oddly relatable

96. What do Yukio and Shima do in their free time on the Dominus Liminus? oh my god you guys this ship has so many amenities. Yukio probably spends time reading in the library, which they totally have. There's also, like, a gym, and a movie theater, and a THEATER theater, all of which are free. Shima probably hangs out at the pool (!) and goes to the movies, and hits on illuminati girls, lol

97. Easiest character to draw? The ones with boring simple hair, lol. Lightning gets an honorable mention for ALSO not having eyes in most shots, but Rin wins--he was specifically designed to be easy for Katoh to draw because that's what you want in your main character

98. How do demons understand gender? They just possess whatever feels like the best match to how they feel in Gehenna, whether that's a man, or a woman, or a rat, or whatever

99. Where do you start when you're coming up with a story? She starts with character design and how the characters relate to each other. Currently she's just continuing an existing story, so she works on splitting up the overall plot into episodes and fleshing it out with scenes and information about characters

100. When do you feel most happy? She honestly feels like she lives a very happy life overall. Mentions noticing a lot of little things, like how nice her cats' heads smell when she cuddles them or taking a nice cold refreshing drink of water. There's happiness in everything. aww.

#blue exorcist #interview #Ao no Exorcist #translation

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imaginesupply · 3 years

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Homecoming - Chapter Six

(I know it's Henry and not Sy in the photo, but it just fit too well with this chapter.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Six starts after the cut. (Chapter Five can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the last chapter or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

I will post a master list soon and put the link in the comments to make it easier to navigate.

Chapter 6

Chapter warnings: Smut, Christmas themes, mentions of therapy, embarrassing moments.

Ada didn't mind being woken up with soft fluttering kisses on her neck. She definitely didn't mind starting the day with the tantalizing rub of his beard on her sensitive skin and the hard press of his torso against her back, their legs entwined and his morning erection nuzzled against her butt.

What she did mind, however, was when any of this happened at the butt crack of dawn. Ada opened her eyes just enough to read 6:50am on the alarm clock.

"Sy," she groaned, stopping his wandering hands with hers, trying to trap them beneath her breasts. "Hold that thought for later, okay?"

She heard him chuckle behind her, his chest vibrating against her body as he freed his hands from her weak grip. "Later is for putting up the Christmas tree and the decorations," he teased, his right hand now drawing circles low on her stomach.

Ada groaned again, wanting to fight his tempting touch but unwilling to move away from his body heat. "I'll get up at 7:30." Those were the last words out of her mouth before she had drifted off again.

When she woke up once more, forty minutes later with the blast of her alarm clock, her back was cold and the smell of breakfast wafted through the air, filling her nostrils. Damn Syverson and his military sleep schedule! She had taken all her days off to spend them with him only to wake up even earlier than when she was working.

With barely open eyes, Ada threw on his shirt that hung on the chair and slowly made her way downstairs, following the scent of pancakes. She found Sy in front of the stove, just finishing up the last one before setting it on the huge pile of pancakes that looked fluffier than clouds. Ada had quickly learnt that while Sy was a disaster when it came to the art of cooking, he was the master of pancakes and barbecue.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he greeted her and then smirked when he noticed her attire.

"Morning captain," she mumbled, walking up to him before patiently waiting until he leant down so that they could share a kiss. It always made him laugh when she did that: the adorable pout on her face when he didn't bend down for a kiss fast enough was worth waiting the extra second every time.

They ate in relative silence, mostly because Ada definitely wasn't a morning person, but the fact that Sy had a habit of stuffing his mouth full of food also played a role. When she was done eating, Ada pushed her plate and glass away, and brought her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs on the chair. She eyed her husband intently, waiting for him to finish eating with a grin on her lips.

"Why are you looking at me like that, darlin'?" Sy asked, eyebrow raised suspiciously before taking the last sip of his morning coffee.

Ada blushed, suddenly looking bashful. "Well… I was hoping we could go back upstairs and continue what you started earlier," she admitted in a tiny voice.

Sy laughed, a booming sound that filled the entire room before a shit-eating grin spread on his lips. "Tough luck, darlin'." He got up from his chair, standing in front of her across the narrow table. "Should have thought about that before falling asleep on me earlier."

Ada's mouth fell open. The cheek on this man! And what made it worse, was his huge smile that made him look like a very amused bear, with his hairy, tempting chest. He was toying with her. "Are you really saying no to sex?" She asked, cocking her brow. Sy wasn't really the type to turn down-

"Yes, no sex." He stated, suddenly looking very serious. "We have to head to the store to buy decorations, then put up the tree and hang the lights outside." Ada tried her best not to laugh. He sounded as if he were explaining a major, life or death, mission to her – not Christmas preparations. "You’re dismissed but I expect you back here in fifteen minutes, dressed and ready to go." With that, he turned around and started gathering the plates and silverware to put them in the dishwasher.

"Yes, sir."

Ada knew better than to talk back. First, when he had something in mind, it was nearly impossible to talk him out of it. Second, she hoped that the sooner they were done with this, the sooner she could get laid. Third, he had used his Captain voice that somehow always managed to make an obedient little soldier out of her.

Though, rationally, she also didn't want to make it any more difficult for him. He had confessed to her a few nights ago why he'd felt so uneasy when they had gone grocery shopping: the gondolas were too tall which led to lots of blind spots and the amount of people meant he couldn't rely on his hearing sense to detect potential danger. 'It just screams ambush,' he told her.

Ada couldn't quite imagine what he must have experienced that a supermarket or a store would translate into danger, but it was not her place to question him. Instead, she had kissed his forehead in bed and offered to start doing their shopping on her own. Sy had promptly refused, suggesting they simply go early in the mornings, when there were less people and less distracting noises.

Now at Target, she was immensely glad she had gotten out of bed, the sight alone was worth it. It wasn't everyday you'd see Sy pick up a bunch of Christmas tree baubles and inspect each one of them carefully before determining which ones were worthy enough to make it to their living room. Ada sneaked a picture for safekeeping and then decided to send it to his mom as well. Family dinner was fast-approaching, and she'd seize all the cookie points she could get.

"Darlin'," Sy called, catching her attention. He was holding up an inflatable Santa who, instead of carrying gifts, dragged a bag full of liquor bottles and sported a drunk grin on his face. It was tacky beyond words. "Do 'you think we should get this, or will it just upset the neighborhood kids?"

Ada grimaced but tried to disguise it with a smile. She’d die before letting that thing on their lawn. “I think a neighborhood dog would tear it to bits within a second," she lied, trying to appear apologetic.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

°°°

The lights were up. It was a much quicker process with Sy's help. It was also the occasion for Ada to just sit back and relax because he was adamant, she shouldn’t step on a ladder to help. Instead, she had a glass of bourbon waiting for him for when he finished. It was 5pm somewhere after all.

"You said we had a tree!" Sy's deep voice reached her from the basement.

Ada threw her head back, sighing, before hurrying downstairs after him. "Yes, it's in that box over there," she pointed at a white cardboard box behind a couple of spare tires.

"Woman, it's tiny!" Sy complained, picking up the box and setting it down between them. It was about as tall as her. It was not that small.

"It's the one I've used every year since I moved in. It's pretty enough and doesn't take up too much space,” she defended.

In front of her, Sy exhaled loudly through his nostrils before rubbing his beard. She knew that move. It's what he did to remind himself she was not a soldier under his command, but his wife, and that he better measure his words unless he wanted to sleep on the sofa.

"Look, darlin'," he said calmly, enclosing her small hands in his much bigger ones. "This is my first Christmas home with my wife. I refuse to put up a minuscule, fake sapling in my home and call it a Christmas tree."

Ada was slightly taken aback. She didn’t know Christmas was this important to him. Though it was true he had been overseas on Christmas the past two years, so she could understand where he was coming from with wanting this Christmas to matter. Besides, it was endearing when he put it like that.

With a nibble on her lip, Ada gave in. "Okay. They're selling trees in that parking lot by the pharmacy."

Sy slowly shook his head, a mischievous look on his face. "No. We're going to get our own pine tree from the woods."

You gotta be kidding me, she groaned internally.

°°°

Ada had no idea where they were. It hadn’t been that long of a ride, but there were no more houses or streets to be seen around them, just endless fields and a forest. It was only when Sy took a right turn, that she started spotting cars and what looked to be a very colorful barn which had been converted into a cozy boutique.

“Where are we?” She asked, staring out of the window as Sy looked for a place to park his truck.

“The Dallagher’s ranch,” he replied. “They do a corn maze and a pumpkin patch in the Fall, and in the Winter, you can pick up your own Christmas tree. My dad used to take Claire and I here every year.”

Oh… This was a family tradition. No wonder Sy made such a big deal about having a real tree for Christmas.

Once out of the car, they walked hand in hand through the dirt road until they reached the makeshift counter made of hay where you could get a handcart before heading out into the man-made pine forest and select a Christmas tree. Most people she saw, however, were already returning the handcarts and happily carrying their trees to their parked cars.

The old man by the cash register seemed to recognize Sy instantly, smiling warmly as he greeted him with a one-armed hug. Ada realized it was the ranch’s owner. “I haven’t seen you in years, Jack!” The old man exclaimed with a laugh before turning to Ada. “And who’s this pretty lady?”

“This is Ada, my wife,” Sy said, introducing them. He watched with amusement as Ada stumbled as the old man hugged her without a warning, taking her by surprise.

“Well, it’s great to meet you, Ada,” the man nodded once he had retreated, and then turned back to Sy. “Should I be offended I wasn’t invited to the wedding?” He teased.

Sy was already wrapping his arm around her shoulders, chuckling. “To be honest, Dallagher, there were no guests at the wedding,” he replied, amused at the way the old man frowned in a confused manner at that piece of information. “Actually, we came here to get a tree.”

“Of course!” Dallagher immediately turned and ordered the young boy in overalls to fetch them a handcart. “What size did you have in mind?”

“Something around seven feet,” Sy said, looking pensive as Ada looked up at him suspiciously, trying to figure out how much seven feet converted to in the metric system. Once she’d done the math, she pulled at Sy’s flannel sleeve to protest – that was way too big, it’d take up the whole living room – but the Dallagher’s grandson was already handing them the cart and leading them to the entrance.

“Trees that big are at the very back of the forest, you’ll have to walk a little.”

This turned out to be quite an understatement. Ada felt like they had been walking for literal years. While they had still come across other people at the beginning, mostly families, they were on their own now – that is if you didn’t count the many squirrels that kept appearing out of nowhere.

She stopped, grabbing the back of Sy’s red tartan shirt so he would be forced to pause as well. “Can’t we just take one of these?” Ads suggested, gesturing at the countless trees all around them. They were all pretty enough and considerably taller than her.

Sy huffed, biting his lip in amusement as he looked at her dispirited face. He’d told her she should probably get changed and wear more comfortable shoes before they left home, but she had insisted she wasn’t going to change clothes just to get a goddamn tree. “These are only around six feet, darlin’. And,” he paused, eyeing the trees more closely, “they’re not Nordmann firs. I want a Nordmann.”

Ada sighed defeatedly, but nodded all the same, starting to walk again when Sy took pity on her. “Do you want to sit on the handcart?”

The change on his wife’s face was instant, the frown lifting into a smile as she climbed on the cart and sat down in the middle, evening out her weight for him. “Is that better, darlin?” He asked teasingly.

She turned her head back just to make sure he saw her rolling her eyes.

By the time they reached an area with Nordmann trees that Sy considered nice and big enough, her butt was sore from the conjunction of the hard, wooden surface and the uneven ground. She wasn’t even sure she had made the better call or whether it would have been better to suffer in her new ankle boots instead.

“Which one is better?” Sy asked, pointing at two pine trees that looked virtually identical to her.

Ada shrugged, almost saying that he should choose before realizing how much time that would take. The man wasn’t picky about food, bedlinen or even the pillow he slept with, but apparently, he had to make sure he brought home the most perfect tree. She still couldn’t wrap her head around that. “The left one,” she said finally.

“Which one? Your left or my left?”

Breathing in deeply, she decided to just point at the tree she was talking about. Sy nodded thoughtfully and grabbed the saw he had brought with him and started to work on the tree. While she had been most eager to get this whole thing over with, it became an entirely different story now as she dreamily stared at her husband getting to work.

With most of his back facing her and one knee on the forest’s soft ground as he started sawing off the Nordmann fin, Sy looked absolutely delicious. The red flannel shirt unbuttoned over his white t-shirt and the jeans made him perfect sight with anyone with a lumberjack fantasy. Ada had never considered herself as having such a kink. A uniformed soldier, or even better, a captain? Hell yes. A strong, rugged husband capable of her breaking her in half? Also a big yes. A lumberjack? The thought had never crossed her mind in the past but there was no point in denying it now as she sat back on the wooden cart, watching Sy carefully saw down the giant tree.

She was wet. Horny. Aroused. You name it. It also didn’t help that they hadn’t had sex that day. Yet.

"Sy," she whined, just loud enough to get his attention, while swinging her legs in the air like a child.

"I'm almost done, darlin'," Sy responded, not bothering to turn around to look at her. "I want a nice, clean cut."

Yeah, and she want a nice, dirty fuck. Pouting, she watched him for a couple more seconds as he knelt in front of the base of the tree, deciding from which side he should bring the saw to the trunk next in order to make it even.

That was when Ada decided she was tired of waiting. Shuffling quietly, she slipped off her wet panties from under her dress and rolled them into a small ball before throwing it at her husband. It hit his left shoulder and rolled down his chest. Grinning wickedly, she leaned back on her shoulders and enjoyed the view, the muscles on his back shifting as he picked up the garment off the ground. If this didn't get her laid, nothing else would.

"Ada Metz Syverson," Sy groaned out her full name slowly, his voice even deeper than usual. He got back up on his feet and turned to face her, looking stern.

Suddenly she didn't feel so brave anymore, not when he had crossed the distance to her in two determined strides and went to tower over her small, sitting frame. His jaw was set, and his eyes were a darker shade of blue than usual. Ada moved her eyes down his body, her eyes pausing at the defined pectorals on his chest before sliding lower. He was definitely hard, the bulge on his jeans prominent.

"Just remember you asked for this."

She wanted to ask what this was supposed to be, but he didn’t give her the chance. “Legs,” he ordered, patting his shoulder as he came to stand just inches away from her. Almost unconsciously, she obeyed his order, her ankles coming to rest on the front of his shoulders, her feet framing his neck. “That’s a good girl,” he praised her with a quick kiss to her right calf before his large hands moved to the front of his jeans, just over the protruding tent and began undoing the belt and snap.

From this angle, Sy’s cock looked even bigger, the shiny glans flushed a deep pink. Ada swallowed tightly, her legs already shaking with anticipation and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Pumping his shaft with his right hand, Sy brought his left one to her core, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb over clit once or twice before sliding it between her folds. She was a dripping mess. Sy smirked when she keened eagerly at his touch, enjoying his ministrations until he pulled his hand away and brought it to his mouth, licking off her slick. “It’s good you’re so wet already because I just can’t wait to take you, darlin’.”

He wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t wait. The next thing he did, was grabbing hold of his throbbing, hard cock and guiding himself into her. Ada moaned loudly at the intrusion, drowning out Sy’s own growl as her walls clenched around his cock, trying to get used to the abruptness and depth of the penetration.

“Fuck, Sy!” She cried out, not even sure what it was she wanted. “Don’t stop,” was all she could muster as he ploughed into her like there was no tomorrow, hitting her pleasure all at once.

He knew they were being too loud. They might be alone, but they were still out in the open air, and yet he just couldn’t find it in himself to care – not when she felt this good around his cock and her noises only heightened his fervor. If someone happened to stumble upon them, then they’d simply be in for a premium show,

It wasn’t long until her legs started shaking almost uncontrollably up in the air, prompting him to remove one hand from his steely grip on her hip and wrap his arms around her legs to keep them steady as he continued with jackhammer thrusts. “Are you going to cum for me, darlin’?” Sy panted, groaning out the question between clenched teeth even though he already knew the answer.

Ada didn’t manage to reply, the first waves of her orgasm already coursing through her when she moaned his name. Her hips canted up, her body tensed up like a bolt, and Sy knew he was done for right then. Her warm walls squeezed him impossibly tight inside of her, milking the cum right out of his cock while he fought to keep his balance as pleasure overtook him.

They came down from their heights slowly, chests heaving. Sy lazily removed her legs from his shoulders, massaging the strained muscles on her inner thighs before he set her legs down. This woman would be the end of him. “That was…” he panted, bending forward over her body to kiss her forehead, unable to find a proper adjective to describe what had just happened.

“Yeah,” Ada breathed out, nodding slowly.

Sy ended up having to carry her and the tree on the cart back to his truck because there was no way she was able to walk straight after that.

°°°

They finished decorating the giant tree. Ada had to admit it looked pretty although the red and gold decorations clashed with the color theme of their living room. She handed Sy the newly purchased baubles one by one – he was the only one capable of reaching the top.

On their way back home, she had somehow managed to convince Sy to stop at the therapist’s office – the one she had found had the highest ratings on Google. They had booked the first available appointment, which was just after the New Year and Sy had made it very clear to their secretary it was just a ‘testing appointment’ and that there was no need to set aside time slots for follow-up sessions yet because there was no guarantee he’d be back. His reluctance was palpable, but Ada was glad he was giving it a try at least. And if he didn’t like, then they’d figure out something else.

In the background, their wedding video kept playing and she wondered for how much longer she'd have to hear the sound of camera flashes as the chapel assistant took way too many photos of them in the most cliché poses you could imagine. Sy has insisted they put on their wedding video since they’d never gotten around to watch it and it fit the season, according to him. Slowly, the annoying sounds began fading away and Ada sighed with relief. Watching herself on TV sparked too much embarrassment in her.

"Hand me the big one with Rudolph, will you, darlin'," Sy asked from behind her, still meticulously decorating the tree.

Ada nodded, searching for the bauble he had in mind. It was still in the shopping bag, she remembered, lifting it off the floor to dig inside it.

Ada froze as a female chuckle was heard, unconsciously gripping the glass ornament too tightly in her hand. "Not that fast, Captain."

Behind her, Sy frowned. "What did you say?"

"Tonight, I'm in charge," she heard her own voice say - no, it was more like a purr.

"Shit!" Ada cursed loudly, letting the bauble fall back inside the bag and she hurried to the TV, her worst fear confirmed.

Sy followed her quickly, stopping just behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Is that from our wedding night?" He asked slowly, his eyes locked on the screen as he watched his younger self being tied up to the bedposts by his wife.

"Yes," Ada cringed, her face a painful grimace. "I didn't even remember the sex tape."

"Me neither," Sy swallowed loudly, admittedly rapidly becoming aroused at the sight of his Ada doing a striptease on camera. She wore that red ensemble with the garter belt.

"I think the assistant never really ended the video after our wedding, only paused it and we later continued filming in the hotel instead of starting a new video," Ada commented, now understanding what had happened. How they’d even came up with the idea of filming a sex tape on their wedding night, she didn't know. Alcohol had probably played a part in it.

Sy was still staring in awe at the TV, enthralled by the sight of his wife deviously edging him, her hips swaying slowly, when her words slowly registered in his head. "Didn't we send copies of the video to our families?" He stammered, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and hesitant.

Silence fell between them as they both realized they had been dumb enough to send copies before watching it themselves. "Fuck!" Ada barked, seizing the remote to pause the video. "We sent that to my parents, your parents, your sister...," she listed, her face losing all color.

Suddenly, the sound of Sy's deep laughter filled her ears. She turned to him, aghast. How could he find this funny? This was peak cringe! She’d be one needing therapy after this!

"You know, darlin', watching this video was the first time my parents ever saw their daughter-in-law, before even meeting you in person." Sy explained, shaking his head with amusement.

Ada was mortified. No wonder Mr. Syverson had seemed on the verge of laughter the first time they'd met and Helen had given her the side eye. The woman had a USB stick in her home with an hour-long video of Ada fucking her son. "You know, Sy, this wedding video is also the first thing my parents saw of you." He stopped laughing abruptly, his face red, all amusement gone.

They both sat down on the couch next to each other, slowly coming to terms with the fact that pretty much their whole families had seen this, and never said anything, probably keeping it as an inside joke.

Sy broke the silence, his large hand reaching to rub her naked thigh. "You know, I don't think we should be embarrassed," he said, prompting her to stare back up at him, eyebrow raised dubiously. "The way you tied up my arms really enhanced my biceps and you looked adorably hot like a vicious kitten from hell."

°°°

@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1 @madbaddic7ed @coffeebreathy @purplelove75 @summersong69 @helenaellie @rn7rocks

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc

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freeseafirefly · 3 years

Text

Ob[li]vious (RinHaru fanfic)

Since I'm back to the fandom after a 7-years-hiatus (not that i ever stopped loving these idiots) and have just learned some exiting things like a new movie coming out on the date Harurinralia episode aired, RinHaru advertizing Tokyo Olympics merch etc, you can imagine what an emotional mess I am rn. Also, i've rewatched the anime and read some things i haven't yet read (like Season 1 novel), and all the feels are so fresh as if i'm back to 2014 T_T Thank you, Free!, for being my time machine. Thank you, RinHaru fandom, for being strong over the years, I love you all sfm T_T

Anyway, there's probably tons of RinHaru Olympics fanfiction (gonna catch up on it), but I couldn't help it once my head started imagining this. It's nothing much, no plot and non-native engrish, but i want to contribute something to this fandom, too. Also, it's probably a parallel universe cause it's Sydney Olympics. Idk. I just wanted it all in one :)

Read on AO3 or under the cut

“Haru…!” Rin chokes out as he claps his hand against the wall and watches the familiar slender shape cleave the air over his head, all in one heartbeat that seems like eternity.

It’s the same as in elementary school. The same as in the second grade of high school. As in a number of dreams Rin had over the years. The same, yet much, much louder.

...The crowds on the stadium lose their minds as Haru slices his way through to the end of the pool, a ferocious underwater lightning that seems to warp space and time themselves, and the moment he touches the wall the world goes white with noise.

Shining.

It’s the shining of the Olympic Gold.

Rin drifts back to reality, at least some limited version of it, to the feeling of Haru's body crushing against his in a stormy hug, and they're both screaming, God knows what, just as the rest of their relay team and the Olympic Sydney and probably the whole freaking world right now.

And Rin can almost process it, flashing before his eyes in an almost coherent sequence of images: years of ups and downs—Haru—their best team—his father’s proud shadow—Haru’s laughter—Japanese flags everywhere— But for an endless moment, the spinning world freezes, and it’s only him and Haru. Alone. They’re together in this place of dreams, right on the spot where Haru broke out of his shell and found his passion, eyes shining and wings unfurled; and Rin can barely breathe as he squeezes him in return, something irrepressible exploding in his chest. And Haru laughs , all tears and sweat and dripping water that leave a salty taste on Rin’s lips because at this moment, it seems only natural to press a kiss to the side of Haru’s neck and then breathe out: “We did it, Haru! We fucking did it...!”

He doesn't think about how gay it must look, and he doesn't have the time to, actually, because the next moment the world picks up full speed, and it's not just him and Haru but their whole team in a jumbled heap of dorks going nuts on the poolside because they have the fucking right.

The locker room is a mess, too. They sing and shout something jolly and off-key and victorious, kiss their gold medals, drink non-alcoholic beer because some of the guys still have races tomorrow, but Rin is still drunk and he can’t quite feel the ground under his feet. They have to sober up a bit for some government officials to congratulate them on the phone with high words about the honor of Japan and the historical achievement; then for the press to ask them some obligatory, obvious things. What do you mean what I’m feeling right now? I am HAPPY! What? Me kissing Haru? Of course I would kiss him all over again because WE FUCKING DID IT! Hey, Haru! But Haruka is not by his side as he’s probably answering some stupid questions, too, and Rin just laughs, blows kisses into the camera I LOVE YOU ALL! and rushes back to hook himself into the jumping circle of his precious teammates, coaches and staff, and sing the hymn once again.

The emotional burnout afterward is real. They walk down the street in deafening silence, he and Haru, just two ordinary guys in their everyday clothes as if they weren't THE BEST IN THE WORLD mere minutes ago. Hell, they still are. Rin can barely keep in the giggles that are bubbling in his chest. He feels like they’re some galactic heroes in disguise. It’s freaking awesome.

Haru is silent, though, probably still not quite back to it, or maybe he’s just being Haru again. Rin leaves him be.

Sydney fusses around them, colorful and bright, all dressed in olympic yet still the same familiar Sydney that once broke his bones and watched him drown with these bright cold eyes. Yet Rin loves Sydney. Look at me now, he thinks proudly. Look at me.

But Sydney doesn’t care to look, too busy in its daily routine, too large. They could’ve just taken a taxi to the station, but somehow, without sparing a word, they both decided it’s a walk. Sometimes Rin wonders if they’ve already reached that level of synchrony where they just don’t need words. It’s been years, after all. Mostly spent apart, but still. It’s not so hard to read Haru when you know him through. Not hard at all.

Yet now, he keeps dead-silent, and keeps not looking at Rin, and Rin begins to feel uncomfortable.

Is it that kiss, after all…?

Rin tries to think back, through his most recent memories which are a mashup of the wildest moments of his life, back to that moment. And his body immediately flushes with heat from the vividness of it.

...Haru’s skin is silky and smooth, and his wet hair are soft between Rin's fingers. Haru’s hands are squeezing Rin so tight there must be bruises on his back. Haru’s taste is… Haru-like. Rin can still sense it on his lips. He sucked it in too hungrily, absolutely in a non platonic way. At the mere thought, a sweet wave washes through his body from head to toe, making his every nerve buzz. Rin chokes on a breath and stumbles.

“Fuck,” he murmurs.

Haru flinches slightly but still doesn’t look his way.

The reality begins to sink in. Rin is an idiot.

It does look gay. Totally.

Rin sees the photos on their train ride—mostly the screenshots various people mailed him—when he jams a cap over his hair and fishes his phone out of his pocket, absently going through his inbox. All the messages are a crazy mess of emoji and caps YOU DID IT WERE SO PROUD OF YOU and they all end up mentioning that kiss. Rin curses under his breath and switches his phone off.

Shit.

And of course, of course where they have to be heading now is that exact same room in that same freaking hotel because Haru called Rin on the night before their flight and said he must book it.

That was a joke, moron! Rin palmed his feverish face, for once relieved they're talking on the phone, no video.

Yeah, I figured, Haruka said, and Rin registered—or imagined?—notes of sadness in his voice. But I thought it's a nice idea for a good luck tradition…

How is it a good luck tradition if we can't stay there before the tournament? Rin moaned, because obviously, they would be living and training with the national team in the Olympic village, what is this airhead even thinking?

Then we'll stay there afterward, Haru said matter-of-factly. It's the intention that matters. Book it.

It won't be available anyway, Rin sighed with exasperation.

Do it, Rin.

And just like that, Rin succumbed and went on to book the damn room, his face hot and his heart jumping and missing beats. Because it’s one thing when it's a mistake, and it’s a whole other freaking thing to do that on purpose, clicking all the OK buttons under the "1 double bed" "ensuite bathroom" shit and the pictures of the said bed and the said bathroom behind the glass.

And of course, of course it just ought to be available for that exact date. Holy fuck.

There would be times when Rin would seriously consider confessing. He would even go through the most romantic places in his head and compose the most perfect, totally non cliched lines. In his imagination, it would all be sakura petals and city lightscapes, breathtaking views, fancy restaurants with the best mackerel dishes and—if he let his imagination wander off further—private pools and night beaches. He knew it obviously wasn’t a good idea, but he also knew he would jump into it someday. Probably. When they’ve achieved their dream and he’s desperate enough and—

And what? Haru—suddenly—likes him back?

Rin knew Haru liked him, probably even loved him, but not in that way. Obviously not in that way.

...But now, just like that, everything is out in the open, and there’s no meaning in confessions anymore. Rin clenches his sweaty hands as panic begins to engulf him, slowly like a tide.

They walk the last stretch past the quay, and somehow it feels so nostalgic as though they used to live here, not spent a couple of nights some years ago. The city skyline across the water is drowning in the purplish haze of the evening as the night draws closer. So does their destination. Rin feels nausea tugging at his insides.

His voice is a crack as he finally braces himself and says, “There on the poolside... Sorry. I lost it.”

It does not rip through the thick silence between them. Somehow, makes it even heavier.

...This is not how Rin pictured their post-victory evening. In his thoughts, it would be a blur of merry partying involving blissful laughter and bright sparkles in Haru’s eyes, as well as touching words of eternal friendship, team spirit and camaraderie; and the most intimate feeling of love finally intertwined with the joy of the achieved dream would be only for Rin to bask in, drown in, his deepest secret. It was never supposed to confuse and burden Haru. It was never supposed to come out for the whole world to behold.

Now, it must be all over the news. A spur-of-the-moment Olympic coming out... The Japanese Team lets passion speak after the dramatic victory... The Pride Flag rises high in the Olympic Sydney... Rin hisses under his breath.

He's fucking ruined it.

“It won't happen again. Ever,” he finds it important to add. Like it somehow can turn back the tide, fix things and make Haru—along with the rest of the world—just forget.

“Eh?” Haru's voice comes barely audible through the thick beats of pulse in Rin's ears, and the sound of his steps halts.

Haru...halts.

Rin flinches and turns around.

“Ever... Again...” Haruka's lips move without producing a sound. He still doesn’t look at Rin. The bangs fall over his eyes like a shadow.

Rin is confused.

...until something rings alert in his memory. It was one of Rei's talks while Rin was teaching him swimming on the evenings. “...He had been out of it ever since that loss to you. And in the Regionals, it's like he finally collapsed. ‘Will I never swim with Rin again...?’ He seemed devastated.”

Rin was... shaken once again by Rei's revelation. "I won. It means I don't have to swim with you ever again. Ever." He never knew his words had affected Haru that much back then.

It was another grain of hope, another detail Rin attached to his imaginary “signs puzzle”, too eager and incautious. He knew it was a bad idea, he fucking knew it right from the start, and today it finally overflowed, breaking through the barrier of his self-control.

“Ever. Again.” Haru repeats in a firmer voice, his lips twitching in a scoff. And when he raises his head at last, his eyes are a flash of blue blazing Rin’s heart: “Are you chickening out now?”

Rin gulps. Heat flushes the back of his neck. “I’m not...! It’s my fault, ok. You don’t have to comment on it to the press. Just tell them they can go to hell. I’ll do the explaining.” It’s my fault. You shouldn’t be dragged through that shit. You can’t let it affect you, Haru…

“Rin.” He still can’t read through the calmness of Haru’s voice, and maybe even Makoto wouldn’t. “It is you who cares about these things. I never did.”

...and Rin feels all the air being squeezed out of his lungs. He’s back to that horrible, devastating moment in the dark changing room when Haru yelled at him almost the exact same words, “What future? What dreams? It’s you who cares about these things! I’m not like you...!”

Rin forces air back into his lungs. Now, Haru seems rather steady. It is Rin’s voice that trembles as he says, “Like hell you don’t care… wasn’t it you who stopped in the middle of the pool once because of all the pressure?”

“It wasn’t because of the pressure,” Haru denies right away. "It was because I couldn’t understand why I must feel pressured. I just wanted to swim. Not to please the public.”

“You mean… This thing now doesn’t bother you either?”

“Why must it?”

Rin chuckles as he exhales, “Right. You’re the guy who would undress in the middle of a shop to dive into an aquarium, after all…”

Rin's knees almost give out with relief. He’s been an idiot to fear that Haru may leave this path—the path he’d once chosen and never wavered since then—just because of some stupid public scrutiny. And no, Haru's also wrong, because this shit doesn't really bother Rin on itself—but only as far as it affects Haru.

Haruka just nods seriously, his eyes—deadly focused blue lasers—never leaving Rin’s. “If this issue is settled, let’s talk about the important stuff. You kissed me, Rin.”

“I-I thought we’ve just been talking about it,” Rin says in a small voice, panic returning and hitting him like a wave. Right. Publicity is one thing; but what happened between them still stands, and it can't be brushed away just like that. “Haru… I’m sorry. I was carried away by all the feels. It's nothing. It’s not like I… want anything, you know…” he trails off.

Breathe, Rin. Just breathe.

“So, you are chickening out. Even with the gold medal on your chest.”

“I’ve said that I’m not!” Rin clenches his fists in desperation. "God, what do you want me to say now? The obvious? Wanna laugh at my misery...?” No, Haru wouldn’t laugh, he would feel guilty and sad, like that winter when they were 13, and it’s even worse. “Want it to ruin everything we’ve achieved together...?”

“Ruin?” Haru closes the distance between them in a few firm steps like he means it, and halts only when they’re inches apart. Are they being too loud...? Right, they’re still on the quay… Rin backs off until his ass bumps against the railing. But Haru probably wants to push him into the water because he closes those last inches, too, and presses their foreheads together. “Ruin...like this?” his breath soughs across Rin’s parted lips, “—or maybe like this?” And then it’s not just air, but a touch, too. Hot, angry, gentle, wet, greedy— short. Too short. “You’re such a drama queen, Rin.”

...Passers-by continue walking past them as if the world hasn’t just shaken and ground to a halt. Nobody even looks their way. Ok, this is Sydney, not Iwatobi, not like it’s too big of a deal here, two guys standing like this on the quay and— wait, what…?!

“Haru… Do you… too…”

“Obviously. I do.”

“Since when…?”

“Since forever. I thought you knew.”

“Me? Knew…?” Rin barely recovers enough to peel his hands off the metal and clasp them on Haru’s forearms lest he disappears, and everything is another dream, and Rin is the biggest idiot again. “How on earth? Why couldn’t you just say anything?”

“...wasn’t sure you feel the same,” Haru grumbles.

“Oh? Wasn’t it obvious ?” Rin asks in a mocking voice.

“It kinda was.” Haru is still agonizingly close, just enough a distance to look into each other’s eyes, yet he keeps glancing down at Rin’s lips, and each of these glances releases a jar of butterflies in Rin’s stomach. “You’ve been staring at me with these lovestruck eyes since elementary. But it also could have been that you’re just an idiot, so.”

Rin digs his nails into his skin, outraged but too messed up to come up with a witty response in a second, since another second Haru adds, his voice soft and suddenly not so confident anymore: “Anyway... I was afraid to screw up everything, and before the Olympics, too.”

“Now who is the drama queen?” Rin whispers, tentatively sliding his hands up Haru’s arms, sensing goosebumps popping up under his fingertips.

“It’s still you,” Haru smiles and kisses the tear off Rin’s eyelashes.

I want to add the hotel part, of course, once i finish it. So, let me know what you think about it so far! Love you all <3

#rinharu #harurin #rin matsuoka #nanase haruka #sharkbait #free!#free! fanfiction #my fic

21 notes · View notes

heathers-wig · 3 years

Text

come & find me - heathney hanahaki au part one

synopsis:

“Who’re the flowers for?” Eva interjects.

The question dances around in Heather’s head and leaks out of the others’ imploring glances, but Heather finds herself faltering as she struggles to answer.

“I don’t…” Heather frowns, thinking of the flowers welling up in her lungs that she’s sure will snuff out her life. Her frown melts into a scowl when she thinks of whoever her enamored was, and how they doubled as her soon-to-be inevitable murderer, along with how she didn’t even get the privilege to know their identity. “I don’t know.”

❁

Or: Heather contracts the Hanahaki Disease. Other than the fact that she’s quite literally slowly but surely dying due to flowers rooted to her lungs, she has a problem; she doesn’t know who exactly her unrequited love is for, or how to prevent the disease from worsening. Can she figure out who her “beloved” is and snuff out the floral illness before it claims her for once and for all?

pairings: heathney (heather x courtney), BG gweoff (gwen x geoff), BG izva (izzy x eva)

word count: 15,226

warnings: suicidal thoughts implications + descriptions of coughing/vomiting

A/N: there are two endings, happy and sad! feel free to choose which you deem as the true ending :) thank you for reading!

READ IT ON AO3 HERE!

i. daffodils & gardenias; unrequited and secret love

It starts with a petal. Well, if Heather were to be honest, it had started far beyond the first initial petal, but all the pieces fell into place when the very first petal fluttered from her lips.

Her science teacher was going on and on about the instructions for their next lab — something about carefully dissecting a pufferfish that had long since died, but Heather paid no mind to it.

Instead, she observes.

One of her favorite things to do was observe those around her. It was like dissecting them, similar to how her science teacher was now demonstrating on one of the pufferfish, and their internal thoughts and behaviors. Who they unconsciously drifted to, who they repelled and fought with — or, to be more precise, where the weak links in her class were located. With this frequent and diligent studying, she knew exactly how to break certain students and their allegedly tight-knit friend groups.

Take Bridgette, Geoff, and Alejandro, for instance; all Heather had done was slightly insinuate to the gullible, blonde girl that Alejandro liked her, and she was putty in her hands. Of course, Heather noticed Bridgette stare and stare at Alejandro nearly around the clock, but Geoff, Bridgette's actual boyfriend, hadn’t. She did him a favor, really — all it took was her to mastermind him walking in on Bridgette and Alejandro during a Halloween party, and Heather was satisfied.

Currently, Geoff and Bridgette were sitting awkwardly and stiffly next to one another — a huge mistake on their parts, in Heather’s opinion, to choose to sit next to one another after only beginning to date during the summer, but Heather had never had the patience for high school romances. Bridgette had tried to slide apology notes to Geoff’s direction, but for once, his eyes were glued to the board and the notes went unnoticed.

Heather noticed them, though, and she had to stifle a laugh.

The rest of the class is more or less the same. Some were pointedly looking away from the experiment their teacher was performing, and some were sketching in their notebooks, like Gwen.

There had to be three people genuinely paying attention — Geoff, for obvious reasons, Beth, because she currently had a B in the course and thought it was the end of her small-minded world, and Courtney, because she was, well, Courtney.

It’s when Heather’s eyes stay on Courtney’s head of hair that didn’t have a single strand out of place that it happens.

A scratch in the back of her throat digs into her, but Heather swallows it down instead of clearing her throat. If she did it too loudly over something so mediocre and unimportant, her classmates would just assume she was trying to stir something seeing as how it was the end of the last period of the day and, while Heather loved the occasional entertainment at the spite of her peers, she wasn’t in the mood that day.

And so, Heather waits and makes stray sketches in her notebook — repeatedly writing her name in cursive, drawing hideous illustrations of her peers, anything to pass the time until the bell rings. When the bell finally sounded off, punctuating the end of the day, students unceremoniously gathered their lump of notebooks and textbooks and scoop them in their arms, leaving the classroom in a cluttered, chatty, and hurried mess.

The first one out the door is Geoff, followed by Bridgette on his heels, Heather notes, but she can’t bring herself to follow and eavesdrop and what would possibly be one of the most interesting breakups Wawanakwa High had seen since Courtney and Duncan’s infamous split. She’d probably overhear the details of the split from somebody else, anyway.

The devil seemed to have spawned at the initial thought, as a prickly voice accompanied with a light tap on Heather’s shoulder made with the eraser end of a pencil is what tears Heather’s eyes away from the door. She has half the mind to berate whoever it was for pestering her at the end of the day, but falters when her eyes meet the other’s.

Courtney’s narrowed dark brown eyes are unamused. When Heather rises from her seat, Courtney tilts her head up to meet her gaze — Heather was taller than Courtney, even with the pair of wedges the brunette had on that day.

“I expect you were paying attention,” Courtney’s tone is sickeningly sweet and mocking, the specific one she uses around people she thinks are below her in terms of intelligence, or just in general. She has seen Courtney use it around the young kids she tutors, Duncan, jocks, Heather herself, and practically any student in their school who has managed to sour her mood, which was mostly everyone. “We are partnered for the lab, after all —”

“We are?” Heather questions dryly. She had expected Courtney to pick up on her sarcasm — Courtney had made it her job to scribble Lab with Courtney on every available space in her planner on the days leading up to the experiment, after all — but judging by the brunette’s eyes narrowing further, she either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.

“Yes,” She hisses through clenched teeth, before frowning. “Whatever, I actually paid attention —”

“And I thank you for your service,” Heather remarks just as dryly as before, sauntering out the door.

“Wha — hey, where are you going?”

Heather snorted softly. “Come and find me,” she chastised sardonically. She had figured the answer to be obvious, but Courtney never failed to surprise her in one way or another.

Courtney scoffs and follows her, falling into place next to Heather. She fixed the headband on her head that matched her clothes as she rolled her eyes so far back Heather couldn’t help but wonder if they saw the back of her head.

“Haha, very funny,” The brunette doesn’t laugh, which makes Heather crack a smile in satisfaction. Winning with Courtney was always exhilarating and thrilling. “See you tomorrow, Heather,”

Heather hummed, waving a lazy and half-hearted hand over her shoulder, already bolting in the direction of the student parking lot. “See you,”

When Heather is finally in the solitude of her sleek, black car — her parents wasted no expense when it came to spoiling her, despite neither being the affectionate or loving type — the thing building up in the back of her throat is finally released into the palm of her hand, and all Heather can do is stare at it.

She’s coughed up bile and phlegm before, and she’s heard of blood being coughed up as well, but the tiny, dainty and crumpled thing laying in her hands was unheard of and felt unreal as it rested in her palms. She was suddenly aware of how dry her hands were as she felt the thinness of the soaked object, given that it had been resting in her throat.

Rifling it in her hands, Heather scoffs when she realizes just how ridiculous it was to believe she had just coughed up a flower in the school parking lot. However, she blinks harshly and firmly, and when she opens her eyes, the yellow petal is still there.

A foreign feeling of confusion and uneasiness settles over her like a blanket, but she instead scoffs once more and crumpled the petal, wrapping a tissue around it to keep it from dirtying her leather seats, and rolls out of the parking lot, avoiding any acknowledgment of the flower petal she’s convinced she imagined coughing up.

(On the ride home, she coughs up two more additional petals, too — one white and curved to perfection, looking much too angelic and innocent for having just been lodged up in her throat just moments prior, and the other the same shade of yellow as the first. Heather ignores both, and tosses them out the window to sink further in denial, similar to how she felt her stomach sink as she watched the petals flutter aimlessly to the ground, destined to be run over or stepped on.)

❀

That night, after finishing both her math homework and leftovers for dinner, Heather switched off the lights and settled into her bed before impulsively flicking open her laptop. It was for school purposes, her parents insisted, and was to never be used at night when she should be asleep, but quite frankly, Heather hadn’t cared much for her parents’ opinion of her considering their clear distaste for her.

Her fingers mindlessly fly across the keyboard, the same feeling of dread from when she was stunned upon the initial discovery of the petals resurfacing.

why am i coughing up weird shit

Healthline - Signs of Lung Illness

If any of the following symptoms apply to you, be sure to contact your health agent and schedule an appointment to discuss your symptoms and possible diagnosis. If you experience a burning, aching, or squeezing sensation in your chest, illnesses such as Lung Cancer, Pleuritis, etc. may be at play.

why am i coughing up petals and how do i stop it

Derrit - r/AskDerrit, in an old manga I read today, the Hanahaki disease was a plotline. Is it real? I can’t find any research indicating an answer.

BlaineleysBitch: no. the entire premise of the disease doesn’t even make sense. it’s not real.

Mr.CocoNutty: tbfh i haven’t heard anything about it? i’m sure if it were real there would be some coverage abt it considering how unbelievable it sounds

KittyKat16: yea, i don’t think it’s real, but it would be really cool if it was!!

what’s the hanahaki disease

Wikiresource - List of fictional diseases

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated. The flowers in particular symbolize the specific love and relationship the patient has for the enamored, as told through flower language. Hanahaki can be cured through the confession of the victim's feelings. The response of the enamored is unimportant. The victim may also develop Hanahaki Disease if they believe the love to be one-sided but once the enamored returns the feelings, they will be cured.

how to get rid of hanahaki disease without having to confess shit

Making sure to groan inaudibly — her parents were under the impression she was asleep, after all — Heather pressed her finger down on the backspace key with a familiar scowl on her face, her finger remaining in place atop the key long after the words had been removed. The feeling of resentment and annoyance was familiar, but the overwhelming confusion and petals she felt building up in her throat were not.

Sighing, Heather rubbed her eyes gently yet urgently. Mindlessly, she resorted back to her idle habit: observing.

Assuming she had the disease that was supposed to be fictional, somebody had swooped Heather off of her heeled feet without her even realizing it. That had to be impossible, as Heather wasn’t dense enough to not realize something as obvious as feelings for another. After all, she read people and their infatuation with others as easily as one read magazines — who was to say she couldn’t do the same for herself?

Recalling the wiki page, Heather sighed as she began to re-type. The article had said that the flowers she had coughed up symbolized her love for whoever her crush was in flower language, and seeing as how it was her only lead on whoever her supposed enamored was, Heather wanted to crack down who it was exactly and quickly exterminate any and all contact with them to execute any possible feelings.

how do you identify a flower

PlantCapture - What Flower Is This? How to Instantly Identify Flowers

If you already have a photo of a flower saved on your phone, you can also instantly identify it by uploading the photo to PlantCapture. Once you've instantly identified a flower, PlantCapture stores it in your library. You can easily go back to see how many flowers you've identified.

Heather whipped out her phone with another sigh as she begrudgingly began downloading the app. Watching the small icon load, she scowled even deeper. Even the smallest inconvenience in the entire situation was enough to dampen her mood even further, despite the fact her own alleged feelings brought this on herself.

Remembering she had tossed out her only petals, Heather just barely resisted another groan before a familiar scratchiness formed at the back of her throat. Being sure to cough quietly, Heather slipped the petal out of her mouth as she winced at the taste of copper rolling down her tongue. The article hadn’t mentioned anything about blood, Heather bitterly notes, before shaking her head at her own stupidity. Of course there wasn’t a full list of symptoms for a disease that was believed to be fictional.

Switching flash on, Heather got the results of her flowers instantaneously as promised: the yellow and white flowers she had been hacking up all day were daffodils and gardenias, respectively.

Heather’s fingers flew to her keyboard once more automatically. With bated breath, she hoped that the results would be specific enough that she could put an end to the investigation that night and stomp out whatever ties she had with her “enamored”.

But, as noted from Heather’s luck that day, things rarely went her way.

what do daffodils mean

FlowerDictionary - Flower Meanings: Flowers A-K

Daffodil symbolizes regard and chivalry. It is indicative of rebirth, new beginnings and eternal life. It also symbolizes unrequited love.

what do gardenias mean

Flower Dictionary - Flower Meanings: Flowers A-K

The gardenia is a flower that symbolizes purity and gentleness. However, this symbolism often depends on the color of the gardenia. ... Another symbol of the gardenia is secret love between two people and also joy.

Upon quickly searching them up, the results did little to ease the dread pooling in her. The test was definitely correct, as it seemed, but was entirely unhelpful when it came to figuring out the identity of whoever it was that Heather had unknowingly developed an unreturned love for.

Slamming her laptop closed — a bit too loud for her liking, but beats pass and she doesn’t hear the annoying patter of her mother’s footsteps reach her room, so she assumes she’s in the clear — Heather grunts one final time, unceremoniously moving her laptop back on her desk. Raising the petal to her line of vision, Heather has to squint to make out some of the details. This one was white, identifiable even in the dark. It was a bit crumpled from having been clutched so tightly, and still wet from her own coppery blood.

A gardenia, Heather recalls with another scowl that was deeper and more ferocious than the last were. Meant to symbolize a “secret love”... so much for a clue.

She wonders, her last coherent thought before succumbing to sleep, how big of a secret her love must be for it to have left Heather herself in the dark on who her loved one was.

At the thought, Heather wrapped her blankets tighter around herself, lulling herself to an uneasy sleep of blood, thorns, beautiful but deadly flowers, and a figure in the distance who looks so comforting and familiar whose name is on the tip of Heather’s tongue, but can’t be reached.

❀

ii. amaryllises & white chrysanthemums; pride & loyalty

Despite Heather’s praying to a God she didn’t believe in, the flowers didn’t disappear overnight. Instead, they bloomed rapidly in her lungs, and at times when she felt the familiar tickle in the back of her throat, flowers in full-bloom were coughed up.

They would be beautiful, if not for her own blood staining them, a grim reminder of what would become of her if she did not find a fix, and soon.

Still, Heather was nothing if not quick on her feet. She managed to keep her illness under the wraps — of course, her second in command was Lindsay, so it wasn’t difficult to conceal her bloody bundles of flowers as just “feeling under the weather”; any other person would be suspicious of the foreign scratchiness and hoarseness her voice now had, the way she would breathe shakily as if her lungs were rattling and about to give out, or the way she barely restrained the flowers from being coughed up after a gym class, but since it’s Lindsay, Heather can get away with her lie.

When Lindsay sweetly wishes for her to feel better, even dropping off a bowl of badly homemade chicken noodle soup, Heather couldn’t help but scoff as she shook her head at the feeling of guilt lingering in the back of her head, and the feeling of bloody flowers in the back of her throat.

❀

With every fistful of the flowers beginning to stain her clothes, Heather took responsibility for her own laundry, for the first time in her life. Her parents put on a spectacle of overexaggerated joy and relief when she announced it, saying that, oh, thank goodness their darling was beginning to take responsibility instead of pooching off of them; Heather had just forcefully smiled and nodded, as she always did now, and excused herself to hurriedly put in the first load.

Her clothes were stained red in her own blood. Some petals began to stick onto her clothes, as well, and the last thing Heather wanted was the intrusion of her parents and their nosiness as she deciphered just who she was coughing flowers for.

Interestingly, the flowers she was now coughing up were different. Amaryllises and chrysanthemums, as she had identified — the red flower was the former of the two and symbolized pride. The white chrysanthemums, wide with many intricate petals, symbolized loyalty and the truth. Thankfully, they were more of a clue than the daffodils and gardenias with their meanings of unrequited and secret love.

That still didn’t mean that Heather had any clue of who they were for, though — she just knew that they had to be high-maintenance, and part of her refused to believe she would unconsciously fall for someone who had to be so pretentious, but seeing as how the thought sent her into another bout of coughing sloppily disguised, it had to have been the truth.

Heather was beginning to hate the sensation that arose when she felt a coughing spur coming on. She hated how she could feel a crumpled lump form in the back of her throat, squirming its way up her throat and nearly out her mouth. It feels hot, sticky, and suffocating, and when the flowers come up, Heather hates them too, and especially whoever her beloved is. However, the disease doesn’t cease even just a little, and so Heather finds herself heaving, coughing, and puking chrysanthemums and amaryllises in the middle of the night as she ponders on who it is she’s supposed to be loving.

Still, she manages to keep herself from hacking during class in front of her peers, and that’s all that matters to her, even when the flowers she chokes on splinter into her like thorns in her side.

❀

It’s here that Heather messes up. Well, to be fair, she messed up as soon as she began feeling things for whoever it was that had captured her sight unknowingly, in Heather’s opinion, but that was irrefutable and couldn’t be helped.

This, however, could have been helped.

Like many things, it started at school. Like the first petal that had been coughed up weeks ago, it started during science class, when she felt the feeling of hot bile, blood, and petals rising in her throat as Courtney bent over their lab report. She didn’t notice Heather’s discomfort, as her eyes were fixed on the report, her brows scrunched together in concentration.

At least, that’s what Heather thought, until Courtney suddenly looked up from the report and eyed her curiously. “Are you feeling alright?”

Heather barely contained her surprise at the sudden inquiry. The only person to ask that was Lindsay, not even her own parents, let alone her (unofficial) rival and (official) lab partner.

Upon seeing her confusion — had she done that bad at a job of hiding it? — Courtney sighed and looked back to their work. “To be honest, you’re quieter than normal and you look kind of sick — you look like you’re going to pass out at any time now.”

“Thanks,” Heather mutters coarsely, finding her voice. Despite her calm exterior, she could feel her heart racing, and the flowers itching their way up her throat.

Courtney squawked indignantly. “Hey! I’m just being honest!”

“Mhmm,” Heather hums absentmindedly as she rises from her seat. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She barely hears Courtney’s grumpy and hesitant “Fine,” before stalking out the room, grabbing a hall pass on her way out. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, out of sight from her peers, Heather dashed as quickly as she could to the solitude of the nearest bathroom. She slams the stall door closest to her open noisily, thankful there was nobody around, and heaves into the toilet as the blood and flowers bloom from her mouth.

They hurt more than the daffodils and gardenias, now that they’re coming out as full flowers accompanied with a few stray petals rather than just petals, but Heather shoves the thought to the side in favor of pulling her hair away from her face. The toilet bowl is filled with a hideous mixture of blood and petals, and Heather feels like a decaying corpse as the energy leaves her, crumbling to the ground as she heaved from the aftermath of the coughing fit.

Picking petals from her backmost molars, Heather spits once more, the remaining drops of blood falling into the sink. Her chin is wet and sticky with her own blood, and she’s sure her teeth are stained red as well; Heather half-heartedly debates asking her parents to pick her up as she flushes the toilet, whisking away most of the evidence excluding the blood dribbling down her chin from her mouth and a few stray petals, before deciding she’d rather vomit flowers rooted to her lungs for the rest of the day than be with her family.

As she rinsed water from the sink in her mouth, Heather nearly spits it out in surprise when she notices a bathroom stall crack open from the mirror. Then she actually spits the stained water from her mouth, whirling around to threaten whoever it was to secrecy. When her eyes meet a head of blue hair, she falters slightly, and that’s all it takes for the other to take control.

“You too?” Is all Gwen asks, having recovered from her initial surprise. She doesn’t look grossed out by the blood, and instead joins Heather by the sinks.

Narrowing her eyes, Heather recoils to what she knows best around Gwen: defense. “Excuse me?”

Gwen laughs, sardonically and self-deprecatingly, with a hint of amusement. It’s the most Heather’s seen her laugh to her since, well, ever. Then, still in astonishment, Heather felt herself stagger back and her eyes widened when pale pink roses, white carnations, and yellow coreopsis flowers fell from Gwen’s blue-lipsticked lips, gracefully fluttering to the tiled floor.

Suddenly, Heather understands, but Gwen still unnecessarily elaborates. “The flowers. You too?”

Heather only hesitates for a split second before sighing and staring down at the sink bowl. “Yeah,”

“Didn’t expect it from you of all people,” Gwen chuckled humorlessly. “Didn’t think the Queen Bee Heather knew what emotion was, let alone be stuck in unrequited love,” she mocked bitterly. She turns to Heather, gaze softening. “So, who is it?”

Heather blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gwen snorted and gestured to the petals and trail of blood on the tiled floor. “The flowers, honors student,”

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, Heather paused before admitting, “I don’t know,”

Gwen grunted disbelievingly. “Come on, I know you don’t like or trust me, but really, who am I going to tell?”

“Hey, I’m actually being honest here!” Heather snapped, glaring at the goth. Of course, I’m told I’m lying when I’m actually being honest… she thinks with a scoff as her scowl returns.

“Whatever, have you tried…” Gwen trails off, frowning as her brows scrunch together. “I don’t know, I just knew who mine was for—”

“Who?” Heather asks curiously, having not picked up on Gwen displaying any of the usual symptoms of a horrid teenage crush. No staring, attention-seeking, stuttering, or blushing — it was the same behavior for everyone with Gwen.

The goth hesitates only for a split moment before sighing and giving one name: “Geoff,”

Heather hums, unsure what to say. Gwen narrows her eyes, seeming to just remember who she was talking to.

“Seeing as how we’re one and the same right now, if I catch you telling anyone, I will spread the news of your diagnosis, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Weird Goth Girl, your secret is safe with me,” Heather promises, the corners of her lips twitching up at the use of the old nickname. “Just help me clean up all this before someone walks in,”

Gwen nods once, before bending over the sink and coughing a few more flowers and petals in the sink, blood spilling from her mouth. Awkwardly, Heather pats her back, unsure what to do, before realizing she should probably hold her hair back.

“Thanks,” Gwen murmurs, her voice even more hoarse and tired than normal. Heather just gives her a nod before crouching down to pick up the flowers trailing the ground; Gwen hurries to grab a mop from the back closet to clean the blood.

It’s when Heather comes across the petals of the pale pink roses, white carnations, and yellow coreopsis flowers that a pang of empathy spurs in her. She turns to Gwen.

“Those type of roses specifically mean joy, the white carnations mean purity and loveliness, and the yellow coreopsis means cheerfulness.”

Gwen looks up from her work and blinks, taken aback, before smiling slowly and softly. “That fits him,”

Wordlessly, the two set off to finish the cleanup of their shared death sentence in the form of flowers and blood, when the bathroom door flies open once more. Both Heather and Gwen look up, eyes wide in surprise. Before either can communicate, a thunderous voice and a ticked-off Eva enter the area.

“Get back to class, we have to clean up —” she gets cut off from her own demand, faltering at the sight of Heather and Gwen bent over the floor, cleaning blood, flowers, and bloody flowers. Her eyes flit back to the duo who are too frozen and flabbergasted to speak. “What happened?”

Heather opens her mouth to bullshit her way into an explanation as she always did when Eva’s eyes suddenly narrow dangerously, intercepting the unsaid lie. She spits out one last order before turning on her heel, leaving the bathroom.

“Meet me in the library after school. Come alone, and hurry up and get back to class so no one else walks in on you.”

After her departure, all Heather and Gwen could do was stare at one another, wide-eyed and depleted of the fluttery itchiness of their lungs and throats, for once, before resolving to hurriedly finish garnering the crumpled flowers and washing the blood down the sink.

Heather goes back to class for the remaining minutes of the day, her mind elsewhere even as Courtney berates her for the long bathroom break. Her mind drifts to Gwen’s sardonic laugh, the goth's utter defeat after finishing hacking, and the way her eyes are avoiding Geoff’s direction, instead fixated on a pink charm bracelet Heather had noticed her fiddling with on multiple occasions before.

The image of Gwen choking on her own blood and petals momentarily and the sound of her warbled snort had been seared in Heather’s memory, and all she could do was wonder. Wonder if, in due time, her own condition would mirror Gwen’s when she inevitably lost to the disease that was slowly but surely suffocating her.

❀

When Eva had instructed her and Gwen to meet with her alone, Heather had assumed that that applied to Eva as well.

What she had not expected, however, was for her and Gwen to be seated with Eva and two of the most arbitrary (personality-wise, that was) redheads Heather ever had the pleasure (?) of meeting.

She scowled. With herself, Gwen, Eva, Izzy, and Harold, they had practically formed their own little Losers Club. Brilliant.

Harold awkwardly coughed, having declared himself the unofficial leader.

Gwen scoffed, leaning back into her seat. She leaned her chair, balancing it on two legs at a dangerous angle. “What is this, Hanahaki Club?” Gwen mockingly questioned, mirroring Heather’s thoughts.

Harold guiltily smiles. “Well, no. See, Eva here —” Eva glared at the boy, scowling. Harold faltered for the fifth time that meeting, gulping — “had Hanahaki awhile ago. Last year, I think. She confessed to Izzy, and the rest is history.”

Izzy nodded enthusiastically. She grabbed Eva’s hand, making the latter blush furiously at the unprompted gesture. “Yup! Our getting together was actually like this one Romanian film —”

“Anyway,” Harold interrupted. “I noticed Eva’s symptoms and helped her, which we intend to do with you two. Now,” he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, casting a pensive look to Heather and Gwen, who exchanged glances. “Which one of you has Hanahaki?”

Before Heather can think to lie and save her own skin, Gwen answers truthfully. “Both of us,”

“Gwen!” Heather hissed. The mentioned shrugs.

“What, you think you’ll be able to resist coughing up flowers during this?” At Gwen’s words, Heather felt her face twist as she felt an itching in her throat. Satisfied, Gwen nods and turns to the others. “Thought so.”

“I’m going to be honest,” Eva begins. Her tone is softer than before, but just as commanding. “Hanahaki… it’s hell. But just ease your suffering by confessing. I didn’t want to risk my life when a few words could save it.”

At Eva’s words, Heather can’t help but feel a surge of jealousy at her words, her sureness. At how she and Gwen just knew who their flowers were for, and how Eva had the mind and courage to confess.

If she did know who the amaryllises and chrysanthemums that were rooted in her lungs were for, would Heather confess? She wasn’t sure, and she hated the uncertainty.

“Yeah, but, he just broke up with his girlfriend,” Gwen murmured, tracing a finger on the table as she spoke in a low voice. She seemed fascinated with the intricate design of the wood, now, refusing to meet the eyes of her peers that were softened with sympathy. “And… he just sees me as a friend. ‘One of the guys', you know?”

A beat passes before Harold frowns, a hand on his chin like some wannabe Sherlock, Heather notes, face expectedly contorted in pensiveness. “Is it Geoff?”

“Bingo,” Gwen says dryly.

Izzy turns to Heather, the hyperactivity from before dulled as she looks serious for what had to be one of the few times in her life. “And you?”

“What about me?” Heather sighs, though she knows that they know she knows what’s being insinuated.

“Who’re the flowers for?” Eva interjects.

The question dances around in Heather’s head and leaks out of the others’ imploring glances, but Heather finds herself faltering as she struggles to answer.

“You don’t know?” Eva echoes. Her face is not contorted in anger, like Heather assumed it would, but rather thoughtfulness. Neither is her voice thunderous or disbelieving — Eva seemed to seriously be contemplating the likelihood of it. She turns to Harold. “Is that even possible?”

The redhead looks just as lost in thought as Eva. He shrugs. “Maybe…” He shifts his attention back to Heather, who is beginning to feel as if she were being prodded at, dissected, and inspected by her peers. “Have you tried thinking about it?”

“Excuse me?” Heather asks, taken aback. Her scowl diminished momentarily in her surprise, before it fell back into place, more intense than before. “What do you think I’ve been doing? Analyzing the flowers and flower language like I’ve gone insane —”

“I mean,” Harold interrupts, “have you tried… I dunno, fantasizing about the people in your life? Like, placing yourself in your ideal date with them to see if the flowers spur in your throat? It worked in this one manga —”

Heather droned out the rest of his rant, frowning to herself. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Anyway,” Eva cut Harold off with a silencing glare. The boy in question audibly gulps, shifting in his seat and indiscreetly glancing away to the opposite direction. “What do your flowers mean?” She looked to Gwen and Heather.

“The first round were marigolds,” Gwen admits carefully. “They mean jealousy. The second had mistletoe and yellow tulips — they mean affection and longing, and the tulips meant good friendship, or something like that. Now, I have pale pink roses, which mean joy, white carnations, which mean purity and loveliness, and yellow coreopsis flowers, which mean cheerfulness.”

“My first flowers were daffodils and gardenias.” Heather found no reason to lie now. “They mean unrequited and secret love. Way to spell it out,” she chuckled dryly, and humorlessly, and pretending to not notice the varying amounts of sympathy from the group. Her throat stings. “The ones I have now — amaryllises and chrysanthemums — mean pride and loyalty.”

Eva raises her eyebrows. “High-maintenance? Wouldn’t have expected that from you,”

Heather grunted. “Shut up,” Her throat hurt too much for a better rebuttal.

“You know, it’s probably Courtney,” Izzy hums half-jokingly with a grin. Gwen barely stifles a laugh.

Feeling her face flush and a lump form in her throat, Heather opens her mouth to argue, but is silenced when Harold shoots her a look.

“So, to recap,” Harold draws their attention back in, “The flowers represent who you love and/or your dynamic with them. Heather, try finding some privacy and think of your ideal date with people you know who are prideful and loyal, okay? We’ll meet up here on Monday. Hopefully you’ll have figured it out by then.”

“Fine,” Heather agrees, clumsily gathering her things. Her throat is burning, along with her chest and she’s sure her eyes are stinging, and she desperately wants to cough, but not now, and certainly not here with this audience. “See you Monday, Hanahaki Club,” she mutters sarcastically.

Half-hearted laughs register in Heather’s ears, but she’s already out of the library and dashing to the second nearest bathroom, not wanting to be walked in on. Her focus had been shifted from her illness momentarily, but now that it had been remembered, it was all it took for her to cough up the familiar flowers to the bathroom floor, unleashing a familiar strangled and warbled choking noise, accompanied by foreign tears.

❀

At night, when Heather’s parents and siblings are fast asleep, Heather lies wide awake in bed, tossing and turning. Whoever her beloved was was causing her to be unable to sleep at night, and when she was awake, she would cough on petals and blood, and she just craved to sleep.

Part of her wondered if it was possible for her to choke on the flowers in her sleep, before concluding that it didn’t matter. She was going to die, anyway.

Her mind wanders back to the secret meeting in the library, and of Harold’s advice. She had never wanted to date any of her classmates, but seeing as how she had the disease, it was a waste of time groveling in defeat. Instead, she shuts her eyes, and thinks of her fantasy.

Intimacy is what comes to mind first. She doesn’t like intimacy with her family or friends, but maybe she’s a sucker for looking into someone’s eyes and holding hands and telling someone I love you and meaning it. It doesn’t make her a sap; it just means that her needs are impossible to fulfill.

Eyes still shut, the image of her perfect date materializes in Heather’s head. Limbs entangled around one another as she and her mysterious person cuddled on a couch while watching an arbitrary film. Sharing a cup of hot chocolate and blankets as the chilling air from outdoors was kept out from inside by the heater. Talking animatedly about their interests and such over the movie, gazing into one another’s eyes; no judgment was to be found in either. It was peaceful and isolated, and perfect to Heather. Her parents never showed affection, and couples in high school never lasted — that type of love wasn’t real, but Heather allowed herself to fantasize, still, for the sake of finding who her enamored was.

Thinking it was best to start with the girls Heather was acquainted with that fit the bill, Heather sighs before imagining the ambiguous person as her classmates.

Leshawna. She’s the most faithful person Heather knows of, and she’s certainly proud. The flowers remain still and unmoving in her lungs, and so, she decides to move on.

Gwen. Unsurprisingly, the flowers don’t itch. The goth was more of someone Heather could respect, anyway.

Eva. Still, no reaction. Part of her is grateful, as she didn’t want to face the wrath of Izzy ever.

Dakota. One of the least likely, but it was possible, Heather supposed. They had some things in common, after all.

Court—

Her dark brown eyes were the only thing that had materialized in her mind when the flowers came out roughly and swiftly. Her blood is hot and thick in her throat as she tries in a daze to not suffocate on it, but still, she chokes on it. She can feel tears springing in her eyes and the sweat piling on her back and under her armpits; she can feel her chest burning in indescribable pain that was unlike any of the other coughing fits. It’s worse than anything she’s ever endured which is, granted, not quite the resume, but nevertheless, Heather feels as if her body is tearing and ripping itself apart while simultaneously hastily stitching itself back together by the amount of pain unleashed from her floral disease.

She scrambles to the sink of the bathroom attached to her bedroom, retching into the basin. The blood and flowers look like an artful arrangement, though Heather barely registers its appearance through both the pain and the unwavering amount of hatred coursing through her at the thought of Courtney unknowingly inflicting this upon her. Somewhere, she’s sleeping peacefully, while Heather is choking on her own blood and the flowers rooted to her lungs from just the mere thought of Courtney’s eyes.

Finally, mercifully, after a few minutes, the coughing fit ceases, but all that’s left is Heather’s heavy heaves as she attempts to retain her breath. Her vision flickers as black dances across her vision, and all she can smell is an overwhelming smell of metal and cleaning supplies. Her sink looks like the delicately painted masterpiece of an artistic sacrificial seance scene with all the blood and flowers. With a sigh, Heather strips of her bloodstained clothes, tossing them in her hamper to wash in the morning. After changing into a new acceptable and clean pair that Heather is sure will be ruined in a few hours, she brings out the cleaning supplies from under her sink and begins to clean at a feverish pace in a dazed state.

Ah, Heather thinks bitterly with a crazed and forced smile on her face, scrubbing extra hard on the sink as the thought flits in her mind, I get it now.

❀

“It’s Courtney,” Heather admitted to the group with a scowl present on her face. None had to ask her to elaborate, and none mention her scowl or her cough at the name. Heather’s scowl deepens further when she notices Gwen and Harold sighing in unison, sliding money to Izzy and Eva, who gladly accept them, with defeated sighs. “Wha —! Did you guys seriously bet on this? I’m literally dying over here!”

The words silence the group before Gwen snorts, and with that, the rest join her and laugh. Heather has half the mind to tell them that they’re in a library, but realizes she sounds freakishly like Courtney. Plus, for once, Gwen is choking on her laughter rather than flowers, so Heather allows it just for once with her own small smile and laugh.

“You know,” Harold manages to choke out, eyebrows raised in either surprise or amusement, “I didn’t take Courtney as your type.”

“Me neither,” Heather mutters. “Who did you think my type was?”

He shrugs. “Alejandro was my main suspect. I thought Justin was Eva’s crush, at first, to be honest.”

The laughter dies down momentarily as the group stares at Harold in confusion. Gwen, cracking another smile, mutters, “Harold, they’re lesbians,” before collapsing in another fit of laughter.

This time, Heather joins in more easily, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. The flowers momentarily disappear, along with Courtney and thoughts of her love.

❀

END OF PART ONE

#total drama #td heather #td courtney #td gwen #td eva #td izzy #td harold #heathney #gweoff #izva #evzy #my writing #heathney hanahaki au #hanahaki #part 1/3

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