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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Note

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting.

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself…

Now that is pure hell.

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to.

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today.

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown.

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you."

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too.

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm.

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?"

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows.

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you.

"I'm just…"

Jesus, this is just humiliating.

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise.

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one.

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–"

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…"

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven.

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing.

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know."

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done.

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to.

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to…

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is.

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months?

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess."

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution.

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to.

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok."

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly.

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender.

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty.

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him?

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy.

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left."

Whoa.

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop."

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in.

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end.

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you.

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard.

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all.

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core.

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load.

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…"

He sounds dazed.

Relieved.

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..."

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even.

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fluff #soft simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon riley x you #fluff and smut #call of duty

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ja3yun · 6 months

Text

Picturesque | P.SH

bf!sunghoon x gf!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (m&f receiving), pet names, fluff, pornography (? sunghoon takes pictures while they do the deed), multiple orgasms, they're sickeningly cute, not proof read, anything i've missed lmk

wc: 4.6k+

synopsis: it's your boyfriend sunghoon's birthday and you want to make it special. your present goes down much better than anticipated.

a/n: hi! it's my best boys' birthday today <3 i know you're all waiting for the next part of tstab but i couldn't resist to post this. its just a one shot because i love him sm and my brain is always thinking about him but esp on his birthday. hope you like it!

You open your eyes to darkness, the only light coming from the orange streetlight outside. Warmth is felt around your waist and down your back as your boyfriend, Sunghoon, sleeps soundly. Looking at the clock you see it read 3.34am. Perfect.

Today was Sunghoon’s 21st birthday. He said he didn’t want a big fuss, simply to have everyone around to your shared apartment for some dinner and drinks. One thing about your boyfriend is that he was a simple guy with simple needs. That didn’t mean you couldn’t decorate the place for him though.

Planning this was a strategic effort even though it seemed simple. Sunghoon was smart, too smart, and if you slipped up even once about your plans he could easily piece it together. It’s not like you were preparing some big extravagant surprise with fireworks and magicians or something, no, you couldn’t even dream of something so lavish. Truth is with both of you being University students with minimum-wage part-time jobs, you were barely making rent. You don’t regret moving in together, it was the right decision, you just wished the government wasn’t filled with incapable idiots and put everyone in a cost-of-living crisis. So you have to make do with what you have, even if you think it’s not enough.

Peeling your lover's arm from your waist you make haste to start decorating the living room. Your flat was small so you had to be extremely quiet, like don’t breathe quiet, but with you and your lack of ability to produce any noise lower than 120 decibels it is going to be a challenge. Sunghoon loved how loud you were compared to his quieter demeanor, making sure to tell you to be as loud as you want and that he would never complain. He especially made this known in your bedroom.

You put on his white shirt from the night before and gingerly shut the door behind you as you vacate the room, leaving Sunghoon sleeping. In your hall cupboard, you had hidden an Asda bag filled with decorations like banners, balloons, and streamers. Their selection of stuff is to be desired and none of it matches but you’ll make it work.

Looking around your living room with a sigh of discontentment you place all the decorations out on your coffee table. “Okay, where do I start?” Your voice is a whisper as you speak to yourself. “I should start with balloons. Yeah, balloons.”

The balloons you wanted were the big number balloons so you could have the 21 as the centrepiece but the very bitter middle-aged lady in Card Factory made it very clear there weren’t any 2’s in store. What kind of place runs out of 2’s? You had to settle for black, white, and gold multi-pack.

You shut your eyes tight and swallow your breath down as the plastic rustles far too loudly. “Shhh.” A warning to the inanimate object is wasted but it’s all you can think to do. This is going to take a while.

As the morning goes on you’ve managed to blow up the balloons and group them into 3-a-piece, hanging them up on each side of the big window and in the corners. You thought you were a goner when one of the white balloons almost escaped your grasp and started flying around the room but you grabbed it just in time. Checking the time on the clock you see it’s 4.30am. It really took you an hour for the balloons. Banners were next on your list but they should be easier surely.

Grabbing the automne you’ve been using as a ladder you successfully put 3 banners up in 20 minutes. If you had the time you’d celebrate but you still had so much to do before he gets up. “One more.” You place your hands on your hips and blow some hair out of your face as you smile. It’s ugly, it doesn’t match the others at all. The banner is silver with just the letters ‘Happy Birthday’ held together by a tacky white ribbon. You really wish you could do better than this but alas here you are climbing up to situate it above the TV. This is a little trickier since you have to stretch to reach the wall because of the TV unit that sticks out.

You fail to notice your boyfriend leaning by the doorframe with his arms crossed and a cheeser of a smile on his face. He wanted to see how long it would take you to notice his presence but he thinks he’ll be waiting a long time. You’re too engrossed in your task to even hear his footsteps coming up behind you.

“Babe?” His deep morning voice scares you and you stumble on the automne, almost falling backward. Sunghoon’s eyes widen as he registers what's happening and rushes to catch you. “Shit, Y/N. You okay?” He places one of his warm hands on your backside and the other on your knee, stroking them both gently to make sure you’re okay.

Only your heart was not okay, thumping loudly as a rush of heat spreads through your chest from the adrenaline of nearly crashing into the table behind you. When you calm down you laugh and lean on his shoulder to step down. “I’m okay.”

Now you’ve properly come to you bring your hands to your mouth as your eyes widen. “You’re not supposed to be up this early!” As if it’s his fault you slap his chest and he chuckles in disbelief.

“Sorry, babe, if I had known you were planning to surprise me I would have slept longer.” Oh. He’s right but still. Not fair.

“I didn’t even get to put up the streamers or that shitty banner.” Dramatically, you wave your arms around and scowl at the devil banner. “It was supposed to be finished so when you walked in I could go ‘Ta-Da!’ and you would be all like ‘Oh my god, Y/N. You’re the best girlfriend ever. This is incredible.’” Sunghoon lets out a loud laugh and brings his hands to your face.

“Okay, okay, let me walk back in and we’ll do it again.” You pout at his suggestion but shake your head as much as you can considering he’s now squishing your cheeks.

“There’s no point now.” Sunghoon sees your disappointment and he matches your saddened expression.

“I’m sorry, babe. You worked so hard on this and I ruined it.”

“Yeah, you did.” You joke while he places a kiss on your forehead and lets you go.

Sunghoon looks around the room at all your efforts. His eyes are filled with admiration and love, everything you did was his favourite but somehow you top it every time. All that energy you spent wasting on worry because you couldn’t give him more was so silly because he was so appreciative that you would even take the time to do any of this, especially when he said he didn’t want a fuss.

His eyes meet yours and he sighs, “Beautiful, you didn’t have to do all this.” You are so busy between all your Uni work and grueling shifts at the restaurant that he doesn’t even know when you had time to get any of this stuff. “It’s just my birthday.”

“It’s your 21st! It’s special!” You protest. “I would have done something more extra but,”

He knows. It’s tight right now between bills and time but none of that matters to him, not right now, not when he has you beside him. “Babe it’s perfect, really. I like the uh,” he points between the decorations, “the green and pink banner and the gold balloons, brings a certain class to the room.” He jokes and you hide your face in embarrassment in his chest, mumbling a little ‘It’s all they had’. “Y/N I love it.” He bends down a little until his face is just below yours, “Seriously. Thank you.”

All the trouble was worth it just to see his smile right now. You peck his lips, “Happy Birthday, Hoonie.” Circling your arms around him as he towers back over you, he kisses the top of your head and then pulls away slightly to kiss your lips. Sunghoon feels so loved by you. The kiss is filled with love and desire so when you pull back he audibly groans.

“Do you want your present?” Not unlike you, but you’re nervous. You had been saving up for his gift since February so no pressure or anything. Inside you’re screaming, your brain working overtime in the anxious department. What if he hates it? “Or do you want to wait a bit?”

“If you’re the present then I’ll take it right now.” He captures your lips back into a kiss. If he wasn’t so into this kiss he would have noticed your playful eye roll. Sunghoon had the impeccable ability to make you have butterflies in your stomach while also frustrating you at how horny he is. He truly is still just a man.

“Hoonie I’m serious.” You pull away and he sighs.

“So am I.” His large hands grope your ass to pull you towards him. When he looks at your face he removes his hands from your body and holds them up defensively. “Okay, I get it. But I told you nothing crazy.”

Sunghoon didn’t care for gifts and that’s why giving this one to him made you feel like you were going to throw up and cry. He was either going to love it or be mad that you bought it.

“Close your eyes.” Doing as he’s told he screws his eyes shut and you turn to dig through the automne. It wasn’t the safest place to leave it considering it took for him to look for one letter or magazine to find it, but it’s better than nothing. The present is perfectly wrapped with glossy white paper, accented with a gold ribbon, you wanted it all to be perfect. “Put out your hands.”

Once his hands are flat you place the box gently in his hands and he opens his eyes. His smile falls a little as he looks between the box and you. “Y/N this is big.” He’s skeptical and his face doesn’t hide it which sends your anxiety through the roof. “Please don’t tell me it’s something exp-”

“Can you just appreciate it and open it please?” He’s hurt by your words. Of course he cherishes anything you do or buy for him, he just doesn’t want you wasting money on him and with the size of this box, he fears you might have.

“Babe of course I appreciate it, you know I do.” You pout and push the box to his chest.

“Then open it and tell me you love it. And don’t get mad.” When you say that he shuts his eyes. “I promise it’s nothing like mad expensive. Scouts honour.” You hold a hand to your chest and one in the air.

Sitting down on the couch he unwraps the gift and sees a plain black box. His fingertips feel the edges before he opens it and his eyes widen bigger than they ever have before, he doesn’t move.

He hates it. Obviously he does. You bite your nails looking at him slowly take out the gift and examine it. “Y/N this is..” He trails off, looking intently at it.

Last year Sunghoon had gotten back into photography, just a hobby, nothing major, but he found a real passion in it this year. He carried the thing everywhere, taking pictures of everything he found pretty - most of the memory card was filled with you. Nonetheless, he didn’t have a case for it, and considering it cost him like 2 months' worth of rent, and that was it being second-hand, you felt like he needed to protect it properly.

So you got him a custom leather case to fit his vintage Minolta TC-1 camera, his initials embroidered on the front lefthand side. The Etsy seller was even nice enough to throw in a strap that matched. You were lying when you said it wasn’t super costly, it did take months to save up for, but as you see his shocked face change into one filled with glee, you know it was worth it.

“Y/N, this is too much.” The smile on his face said otherwise, it was just perfect. “Babe, seriously, this must have cost you a shit ton of money.”

Shrugging you play it off, “Nah, got a good deal on it.”

Like a child at Christmas, he stands up and strides over to embrace you, the hug said everything he couldn’t. There were no words to describe how much he loved it, how much he loved you.

“Let me go get my camera!” Sunghoon was easily excitable and as he ran to your bedroom to retrieve his camera you could only laugh. The pitter-patter of his feet getting faster the closer he got back to the living room was the cutest thing you have ever seen. Struggling to get the camera in the case due to excitement, you walked over and took the case from his hands, “Here, babe.” You slot it in and thank the heavens it fits and in hindsight, you probably should have checked before giving it to him.

“Babe, I love it so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He kisses all over your face. He was such a cutie, you never understood why people were intimidated by him. But then again, with a face so gorgeous who wouldn’t be? And you were the only one that really got to see this side of him.

“I’m glad you like it, Hoonie.” He corrects you and repeats the word ‘love’ which makes you smile.

Turning the camera on he brings it to his face and adjusts it. You take the opportunity of his preoccupied state to clear up some of the mess from the decorations and his present. You contemplate whether you should attempt to finish decorating but you don’t see the point, maybe finish it before the others come over.

A shutter sound echoes in the quiet room and you spin around to see your birthday boy smiling widely as the camera is pointed at you.

“Hoon, stop! I’m not even dressed yet.”

Your words seem to spark a mischievous glint in his eye and you have no clue what he is thinking. Sunghoon slowly walks over to you, “You know,” he wears the strap of the camera around his neck and takes the rubbish from your hands and discards it to the couch, “That’s not a bad idea.” Perplexment shows on your face. When did anything you just say sound like an idea? “I could take your picture.”

“Babe you always take my picture.”

“Not while I’m fucking you I haven’t.”

Your jaw hits the floor. For the first time in your life, you are speechless, utterly gobsmacked. “No way.” You’re a generally shy person despite your loud personality so you would never think to do anything like this.

“Come on, Y/N.” He strokes your hair and uses a lower octave voice to try and persuade you, “They’ll just be for me, literally no one else will see them. You know I would never show them to anyone.”

Evidently he wouldn’t, he doesn’t even like it when you both go out dressed up nice and guys even think about looking at you. This was for him when you were on long shifts or in classes. Something he could use to jerk off to when his wank bank of memories won’t suffice.

He’s too persuasive because the next thing you know you’re taking his hand and pulling him to the bedroom. Glancing around the surroundings you sigh. “Can I tidy up first?”

“Why?” He laughs confused.

“I just don’t want the pictures taken with all this mess lying around, it’s un-aesthetically pleasing.”

His quiet almost silent laugh rings in your ears and you smile defeated. “Baby, do you think for one fucking second I am going to be looking at the slippers on the ground or Mr. Giles in the corner.” Mr. Giles, your childhood teddy bear, has seen far too much of what has gone on in these four walls but why is it when Sunghoon mentions his name you want to cuddle him and apologise?

“Mr. Giles is camera shy okay?” Your boyfriend picks him up, places a kiss on his nose, and places him facing the wall.

“There. See.” He pushes you to lie on the bed, “Now, let me do my job, yeah?” His hands are on your waist in no time, the camera swinging from his neck now lays on your stomach as he bends down. The coldness of the object makes you shiver but you’re soon heating up when you feel his fingers dip into the waistband of your panties and pull them down. You hear him mutter ‘So fucking beautiful’ as his face is level with your core. Thinking he’s just going to get right down to business, you spread your legs but he stands up. “I need to take a before shot.”

Click

He takes pictures as you lay there in only his shirt, some at a lower angle to get your perfect pussy in focus. His eyes are telling you he’s trying to refrain from just delving in, from absolutely ingurgitating you, it’s a patience he usually doesn’t have.

“On your knees for me, beautiful.” Being obedient like always, you do what he says. “Gonna get you to suck my cock, okay?” You don’t wait to be told what to do next because your hands are reaching for his boxers to pull them down. Cocks are either fucking beautiful or ugly, and Sunghoon had the prettiest cock of them all. His reddening tip slaps his stomach and you mewl out loud. “Don’t show off for the camera baby, okay? Just do it the way you always do.”

Sunghoon loves the way you lovingly lap his cock, trying to fit it all in your mouth but he’s so big you can’t take it all the way in without choking. It’s cute to him how eager to please him you are.

You sit your hands on his hips and lick a stripe from his balls to the tip before taking his tip in your mouth. “Fuck.” You hear Sunghoon breathe out and it makes you look up. This is the moment you wish you could take the camera and snap a picture of him. Maybe you need to suggest that at a later date.

Right now it’s Sunghoon’s birthday and it’s whatever he wants. You suck his cock in earnest, grabbing the base to cover the part of his cock you can’t fit into your mouth. He’s like you’re favourite meal and while you used to hate sucking dick there’s something so pleasing about him and the way he tastes.

Forgetting his original intentions he grabs your hair and tightens it into a tight pony, pulling at it. “B-babe, so fucking good at this.” It’s not until he looks down at you working him up and down he sees the camera. He uses both hands to put you into focus and takes a few pictures. Some are just a close-up of your lips enveloping his shaft, others are simple POV shots. It’s when you look up as you hear the shuttering from the camera that he starts really taking the pictures with determination to capture how beautiful you look in this moment. The eye contact to the camera has his chest growling. “That’s my pretty girl, made for the camera, huh?”

He wasn’t big on dirty talk but right now he felt like a whole different person, and this person wanted you to hear how good you made him feel.

Picking up the pace you start to slabber down your chin, losing yourself in the action. Sunghoon is so close to cumming that when he pulls you off his cock he whimpers. You are both panting and clouded with lust, your plumped-up lips aren’t helping Sunghoon, and his leaking cock isn’t helping you.

“You’re a natural on this camera, babe.” His hand reaches down to wipe the saliva and particles of his cum from your lips. Click. Another perfect moment. “Can’t wait for you to see it from my point of view.”

“Sunghoon, I love you but I am not looking at those ever.” There is a big part of you that actually would like to see it, but you’re too embarrassed to even imagine what you look like.

“You’re missing out, beautiful. Nothing more picturesque than you choking on my cock.” Sunghoon says the filthy sentence so casually and it flips your stomach. “Lay down for me.”

Removing the camera from his frame he places it on the bedside table. Is he finished taking pictures? “Hoon wha-”

Sunghoon’s face is in between your legs and licking up your folds before you can ask your question but his actions answer it anyway. If he was your favourite meal, you were certainly his. Fuck, you were his favourite everything. He was sucking your clit so suddenly you arched your back, the action pressing your pussy further into his face which elicited a hum of approval from him. The sucking was harsh, overwhelming, so much so you hadn’t even noticed how his fingers lightly trailed your thigh.

His palm pushed your right leg open further, his mouth never letting up on your sensitive bud.

“Hoonie,” A moan of his name leaves your lips, your hand grabbing him and pushing it towards your entrance. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing but still listens to your silent request, his middle finger circling your opening.

The birthday boy wishes he could do this and take pictures because he knows you look so fucking beautiful right now. Even the image in his head of you arched in his work shirt, mouth agape and moaning, could make him cum right now. Instead, it just fuels him so keep going at your clit, throwing in some light nibbles every so often.

Slipping his middle finger into you he curls it exactly how you like it. After 2 years of fucking you, he’d say he could easily get a PhD in how to please you, certainly how to make you cum. And what you like is way more than just one finger, so he adds two more sending you crazy.

“Fuck, fuck, Hoonie, so good.” The moans and profanities leaving your lips make him smirk, knowing you’re close. He makes his tongue rigid and uses it to stimulate your nub, going fast and hard in rhythm with his fingers and within a minute your thighs are clamping his head and your coating his tongue with your cum. “Shit, my god, m’cumming.”

He almost laughs at you because of course you’re coming, he’s tasting it right now and it’s better than any meal or cake he’s going to get today.

Your trembling thighs open slightly and he peaks his head up to see you, quickly grabbing his camera. “What a fucking sight,” Sunghoon whispers before clicking. Your arm is laid over your face, his shirt is held together by one button in the middle of your torso, and most importantly your cunt is glistening. He wants to blow this picture up on a canvas and hang it in the living room, but you would never agree and his friend would never leave your house.

As you catch your breath, Sunghoon crawls to hover over you. “Babe you look so fucking good right now.”

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You laugh and finally bring your arm away from your eyes. Your essence still on his lips somehow makes you wetter than you already are.

“You’re so funny.” His sarcastic tone makes you laugh harder. “Now I need to make a decision

“What?”

“Do I want your pussy filled with my cum, or it splattered on your stomach?"

Oh, you might just have a second orgasm right now. It’s not implausible at this moment. “Well, you have my permission for anything,” You kiss his lips, moaning as he instantly sticks his tongue down your throat. Breaking the moment you bite your lip, “And y’know, if you can cum twice you could get a double shot.”

The camera is pushed back on the table and his dick is touching your entrance, “I’ll make it a surprise what one comes first then, huh?” With that, he’s sliding into your heat, both of you gasping in unison. You’re tight around his cock, your walls dragging themselves perfectly along his hard shaft.

“Shit, babe, feel so fucking good.” If he could record this moment and make it 4DX he would hire out a Cineworld screen every day and watch it on repeat.

Thrusting into you with purpose, one of his big hands gently encloses your throat, not tight enough to cut off your air but enough to have you roll your eyes back. It’s taking all his willpower not to just fuck you rough and hard because if he does he’ll cum instantly and that’s just not going to happen, not on his watch. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. So perfect.” He brings his mouth to your ear, “My pretty girl, I love you so much.”

You cry out in love and pleasure as he starts to pick up the pace, his cock hitting your soft spot every time. To him, you were the only present he ever needed.

Sunghoon nibbles your earlobe, keeping his rhythm steady, continuing to whisper in your ear, “You wanna cum?”

“Yes, fuck yes please, Hoon.” He takes your hand from your throat and places it beside your head to give him more stability as he relentlessly fucks into you, his lips sucking in yours as he loses control, his only thought right now is to make you come undone on his dick.

From the last orgasm you had it doesn’t take long before you’re cumming again, the aftershocks still buzzing and only adding to the sensation. You’re gripping his arms and crawling down them, legs shaking as you loosely wrap them around him. There’s no energy left in your body so as he fucks you deep, your spent body only moves due to the power of his thrusts. “You’re doing so good, I’m nearly there, babe.” He mumbles into your neck as he nuzzles into you.

You’re getting a tiny bit overstimulated but you know he’s close so you bear with it, mustering up all you have left to whisper, “Come on, Hoonie, don’t you wanna get the perfect shot?”

His seed fills you instantaneously as your words echo in his ear, his body jittering as he coats your walls, his hips losing their rhythm and coming to a standstill.

Heavy breathing and banging heartbeats are all you both hear as you compose yourselves. Sunghoon falls on top of you, his softening cock still buried inside you. Rubbing soothing circles on his back makes him smile widely and look at you. “Thank you, babe. For the present.”

“You’re welcome.” Lazily you plant a feather kiss on his nose. You reach over and grab the camera, “Well, you got a picture to take.”

Smirking, Sunghoon takes the camera and slides out of you, taking in the view of his cum dripping out of you onto the bedsheets. It’s a work of art. “Pose for me, pretty girl.” You open your legs a little wider and try your hardest to look sexy for him.

The camera clicks a few times, each shot more beautiful than the last. You’re his muse, his everything, his best birthday present.

“Now,” He puts the camera away and lays on you once again, “I think for my next birthday I might ask for a camcorder.”

#sunghoon smut #enha smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enha x reader #aj writes #i love him sm i hope he has the best birthday ever fr

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eggcats · 2 months

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Radioapple fic, where after it's revealed that Pentious was redeemed, Heaven sends some angels (including some of Lucifer's own family) down to check out this Hazbin Hotel. (common fic theme)

And Lucifer is STRESSED. He hasn't seen any of his family in millennia, and they absolutely did not part on good terms. Especially because now he has to make as good of an impression as he can because he will NOT be the cause of Charlie's dreams failing.

Anyway, one of Lucifer’s estranged family arrives and they have absolutely NOTHING good to say about the hotel, it's people, or even hell itself. Insulting the decor, how it looks, being like "You got kicked out for free will and THIS is what they do with it? Ugh." and the like.

Lucifer is trying to keep himself together for Charlie's sake. (He's only had 3 breakdowns today, he's doing good!)

However, the last thing he expects is Alastor coming to his defense. Alastor looks at this shitty relative of Lucifer’s and is immediately like, "How DARE you? Antagonizing this angel is MY JOB, and I don't send him into hysterics, I send him into MUSICAL NUMBERS. Get out of my hotel immediately." But, obviously, he can't SAY that (for many reasons, the least of which is that Charlie needs them here for her redemption project).

So instead, he just picks at everything they say. "Hmmmmm, yes, but we at least chose to do this with this, free will you're insulting. What's your excuse for that eyesore youre wearing, hmmm?"

Alastor goes as far as to defend Lucifer’s choices in decor in the hotel, and Lucifer is completely confused because he and Alastor literally fought the day before about that SAME decor??

(The second the angel leaves Alastor turns to him and goes "They're right, you know, that is the ugliest interior design I've ever seen," and then DISAPPEARS before Lucifer can even respond. What the hell?!)

Alastor is not ignorant of toxic family dynamics, and while part of his initial issues with Lucifer stemmed from his belief in him being a deadbeat father, actually knowing him kind of changes his thoughts on this. It's a little telling that Charlie has been (apparently) attempting to contact her mother during her 7 year disappearance and has heard nothing, but the father who (she believed) thinks she's a failure shows up within an hour of her calling him ONCE. And then he does whatever he can to help her dreams, and the second she implies she wants him around more, he MOVES IN. It's kind of hard to continue thinking that LUCIFER is the toxic parent in the family dynamic, after all this.

(He still fights him, though, because it's fun to tell the most powerful being in hell his choice of interior design is ugly. If Alastor kind of doesn't go for the throat in all of Lucifer’s insecurities anymore, no one needs to acknowledge that.)

So, during the entire Heaven tour, Alastor is strongly in the "form a united front" boat. He can and WILL come out of the shadows for a sarcastic quip that simultaneously shuts them down AND makes Lucifer feel better.

(Alastor will NOT acknowledge the anger that goes through him at the idea of someone other than him picking at Lucifer, especially when they are CLEARLY trying to send him into a breakdown. How dare they. *cough* Anyway.)

So the whole ordeal winds up not as stressful as Lucifer was dreading, because somehow he has an antagonistic cannibal deer defending him the entire time. And Lucifer has no idea HOW that happened, but it does kind of make him feel better. (And Alastor's form of mocking him does, too, somehow.)

When they're alone, however, Alastor still picks at him so they can fight. (And Lucifer didn't notice until now how much FUN he has fighting with Alastor, and that Alastor insulting him makes him want to do better and prove him wrong, unlike his visiting family that makes him want to lock himself away for a decade.)

The tour ends, and Alastor and Lucifer go back to how they were before. (Sort of. Lucifer might be re-evaluating every interaction they've ever had and might send himself into a mild crisis.)

#hazbin hotel #radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #duckiedeer #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #fic #mine #long post #Alastor seeing someone else making fun of Lucifer: how DARE you thats MY job and youre not even DOING IT RIGHT get out of my hotel now

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netegf · 8 months

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Hate It When You Leave

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. he's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want... including him.

warnings: 18+, best friends to lovers trope, use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and past drug use, non-graphic references to violence, some angst & jealousy, fluff and smut (public sex, teasing, oral female receiving)

word count: 6.5 k

There are parts about wearing your heart on your sleeve that no one ever talks about.

For instance, that it's hard to fix your face when the threads keeping that heart together feel like they're getting tugged, cut, and re-bunched into an ugly knot.

The water bottle you're holding hardly has any life left. Even Kelce comments as much when he rounds his kitchen island, limbs swinging and loose thanks to the red Solo cup in his hand. He takes one look at the tight smile on your lips and tilts his head to the side, fingers twitching upward to your chin as he turns your head to face him.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asks, voice a little slurred, but thick with concern.

That was Kelce. Polarizingly good at getting to what someone was hiding underneath.

But appearances went a long way for him. And he was so agreeable, it made him easy to lie to. Especially when he and Topper had practically begged you to come to this party, his first one since graduating college. Everyone would be there, he'd said.

And he was right, they were.

"Nothing, Kels, it's just my stomach being a little funny." You tell him with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. You gaze at him warmly and quirk a brow, smiling genuinely. "How do you always know?"

"We've known each other our whole lives!" He barks in a laugh. "There's nothing I don't know about you."

You feel your heart squeeze again, like there's a too-tight belt around it. But you humour him with a sweet giggle and convinced nod, and it's all Kelce needs before he's walking away to mingle with another.

How shocked he'd be to know that there was something you were hiding.

You keep the water bottle you're holding close to your body as if it would fall straight out of your hands otherwise. When you watch the brunette seated next to Rafe on the couch squeeze his bicep again, you think it might just fall anyway.

Some things don't change.

The sun goes up and down. The moon makes a nightly appearance. Kelce never dresses for the weather. Topper claims everyone else is cheating when he loses.

You love Rafe Cameron.

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it?" A voice rings next to you.

You slowly turn your head from where you're sitting on the kitchen island to see a familiar face lounging on one of the high-chairs.

Topper, apparently, had always had an inkling.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Top." You grumble, casting your eyes away from the blonde protagonist of most of your dreams. Some of your nightmares, too.

You watch as Topper rolls his eyes without so much as glancing at you, a small scoff escaping his lips. He takes a hearty sip from his cup of brown liquid. Tracking his eye-line, you're unsurprised to find that he's staring wistfully at the very same blonde's sister.

Sarah Cameron is dancing in the corner of the room with John B., her boyfriend.

A Pogue at a Kook party... the thought still makes you skeptical.

Not because you didn't like John B., or more accurately, like him for Sarah. But because a few short years ago, all this seemed entirely impossible.

Nonetheless, Sarah was important to all of you.

And, like she'd said, Rafe listened to you better than he did anyone else.

When you explained to him how smitten his sister was with the boy, and considering how their relationship had endured far past those murmurings of 'young love' to, what was at this point, years together, he'd begun to understand that John B. wasn't going anywhere.

Much to Topper's devastation.

He promised he was over her, and he dated like it, too. But there were those moments where he had a few drinks in him and it made you think otherwise.

"Oh, okay. My fault." Topper replies sarcastically, downing what's left in his cup and finally turning away from the couple he's burning holes through. "I thought we were being honest."

"I am being honest."

He glances at you sharply.

"Uh huh. Hey, don't freak out, but, your nose is like, growing really long. Never seen anything like it before. It's like in that movie! What's it called, again? Puppet boy? No, that can't be right..."

"Very funny, Topper." You say dryly, but the hint of a smile on your lips sells you out and he chuckles next to you.

"I was thinking Pinocchio." He fake recalls, nudging your elbow.

This time, you laugh with your chest, and when you lift your head up to take it all in again, your eyes meet familiar blue ones from across Kelce's living room.

By now, you know how to mediate the warmth that blooms at the base of your spine and consumes you completely.

There's a comfortable silence between the two of you before Topper starts speaking again.

"You know he would do anything for you, right?"

You chew on your bottom lip, still holding eye contact with Rafe who gives you a crooked smile. The girl next to him leans in to whisper something in his ear. He keeps looking at you.

"Yeah, I know." You mumble half-heartedly. "I just feel like I might need to cut my losses at this point."

Topper frowns for a moment, then stands up from his seat.

"Well, you suit yourself." He pinches your cheek affectionately. "Because I, for one, want to crash and burn."

You snort at Topper's words and just as quickly watch him round the kitchen counter to grab another drink.

Preoccupied with the way he extends that gesture to you, fixing some gross concoction of different sodas for you to sip on, a shiver rolls over your skin when it feels like Rafe's smouldering eyes are still lighting a fire on your face.

Aron Andersen is a douche, but he means well.

At least, that's the excuse you aways placate Rafe with when Aron inevitably runs his mouth, the blonde's fists tightening nearly every time in conjunction.

Typically, you opt for the pacifist approach because blood is a bitch to clean, Rafe whines when you clean him up with saline, and frankly, Aron isn't worth it.

But tonight, he seems to enjoy testing your threshold for patience like no one else before him.

You suppose he's not entirely to blame. Kelce makes his drinks strong, and half of Figure 8 is sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

Maybe that was why Rafe had almost swung on John B. only a few minutes prior, claiming the younger man was feeding his sister lies about him. Perhaps it was just one of those nights.

Still, you sigh when Aron drunkenly makes his way over to your new spot in the backyard, and press your lips tight together when he shoves a beer in your direction.

"I'm not drinking tonight, Aron." You tell him plainly.

Aron haphazardly plops down into the lounge chair next to you with his glossy, red eyes narrowing.

He grudgingly pulls the beer back from you and takes a sip that pools around the sides of his mouth, then drains down his throat slow and loud.

"That sucks. You're more fun when you do." He scoffs.

Your mouth falls open as the words leave his lips, head spinning to meet his annoyed gaze. The faraway look in his eyes makes you gulp.

In no particular mood to be berated, you have half a mind to scoff back and get up to leave. But there's something about the way he speaks completely unadulterated that keeps your body locked in place.

Like you're dying to know what someone really thinks of you.

"Why not?" He presses, gesturing with his finger accusingly.

"I'm driving."

He continues to stare at you blankly.

"I'm driving." You reiterate, irritation seeping into your tone. "And drunk driving is illegal, Aron. You do know that, right?"

Unintentionally, your eyes flicker to a slightly rowdy and staggering Topper across the room. Aron zeroes in on that and rolls his eyes emphatically.

"Now it makes sense. You're taking your boyfriends home." He pitches the word in a scornful taunt, squinting over your shoulder. "Where is Cameron, anyway?"

You feel your heartbeat rage in your chest, tongue numb and mind in disarray.

"Don't be a dick, Aron. They're my friends." You bristle. But he seems unfazed, lazily quirking an eyebrow.

"Please don't tell me you're that stupid, Y/N. Friends?" He laughs obnoxiously. "I get you're in love with the guy, but you run around for them like a maid. You ask me, the least you should be getting out of it is a good fuck."

Your fingers twitch at your side as you shoot up from your seat, really and truly considering that pouring his beer over his head might be the best option.

Given that Aron routinely takes up two parking spots to park his Range Rover and cheats on his girlfriends, you think it might be a long time coming.

His words hurt for more than one reason. Of course, because he'd sooner die than recognize that you very much could maintain a healthy, platonic, and meaningful relationship with your friends of over a decade.

But also because, when it came to Rafe, he was goading you with a kind of intimacy you knew you'd never be able to access. At least not in the way you wanted.

When a firm hand grips Aron's shoulder strongly and whips his body around, you soon realize you don't have to resort to such a physical display.

While it was true that Rafe's face didn't make him look particularly kind, he'd only been seriously pissed off, to the point that his stomach felt like caving in on itself, a few times. Like in those months right after he'd graduated high school and felt like a big question mark. Every time his dad looked at him disapprovingly, it affirmed that sinking feeling in him, and he learned that he sometimes articulated his sadness in anger.

These days when he's mad, he mulls the feeling over a few times in the interest of scraping for another feeling underneath.

Now, though, all Rafe feels when he meets Aron's arrogance with an intensity of his own, is unbridled rage.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Rafe speaks at a low register that makes your breath quicken. His movements are a little clumsy, blue eyes slightly glazed over, and his dirty blonde hair kisses his forehead that's speckled with sweat. Cheeks dusted red in that way that you love, more prominent when he's inebriated.

His fingers are still pressing harshly into Aron's shoulder, pressure concentrated and steady if the way he winces is any indication. For a second, his eyes flit over to you and the frown on your face, and they begin to soften. But then Aron is sputtering and stealing his attention and he hates him all over again for it.

"My bad, bro." Aron offers lamely, hands jutting upward in surrender. He attempts to step away, but Rafe keeps him locked there.

"Yeah, it's your fucking bad, bro." Rafe sneers.

He roughly shoves Aron backwards as he lets go of him and the man quickly scurries away knowing that if he sticks around, Rafe will probably force him through clenched teeth to apologize to you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest for a different reason.

Your mind is trapped in a loop, repeating every word you said to Aron over and over again, wondering how incriminating they were, and debating how much exactly Rafe had heard.

And if he had, if he was coherent enough to either dismiss or believe the accusation that you loved him. No, not love, you shudder... in love. Aron had said, verbatim, that you were in love with him.

"I would've handled it." You mumble with your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe sighs as he turns his body to face you, rubbing a hand over his jaw, now partially relieved of the tension it was holding. He chews on his bottom lip cautiously, like it'll help break the fall of the words bound to spill out of his mouth, a little too unrestrained in his drunk state for his liking.

"I know that." He nods slowly. "I just wanted to help to help you... handle it."

He stumbles a little as he moves toward you and you instinctively wrap an arm behind his torso, holding him against your body as a human splint.

"Plus, I kinda have a reputation going for me. No one's losing their shit if I fight a guy."

"Or two." You say pointedly, thinking about his almost altercation with John B. earlier in the night.

Rafe buries his head into your shoulder, groaning loudly into the bare skin as it heats up and vibrates.

"Fuck, not you, too."

He lifts his head up to continue, and you lug his body towards the living room where you spot Topper talking with Kelce and some others. Without speaking, Topper seems to understand what you're saying, nodding then pointing to himself followed by the stairs.

He'd driven you to Kelce's and you promised to stay sober and drive him back home. But now, it seemed like the plan was going to shift.

Topper would stay the night at Kelce's and take his car back in the morning. You would take Rafe's truck back to his place and walk the rest of the way. You were practically neighbours, anyway.

"If she wants to talk shit about me to her boyfriend, that's one thing. But him, talking shit about me, to her? What's he trying to do? Turn my own sister against me?"

"I get it, Rafe. I really do." You nod, an amused smile on your lips as you tug him out of the front door and towards his truck. "But you promised Sarah you'd be nice, remember?"

"I am being nice." He protests with his hands tapping at his chest. "I didn't even fucking touch him."

You scoff lightly as you strap Rafe in his passenger seat, noting the way his eyes begin to flutter shut. Humming softly, you poke a cold finger at his cheek and watch as they blink open again.

"I'm taking you home, okay?" You murmur gently.

"No!" He objects, large hand circling your wrist. He rubs his forehead with the other one, trying to remember something. "Got a meeting in the morning. Ward is gonna flip if he thinks I've been out all night fucking around."

You look at him uncertainly, waiting for the thing that you don’t want him to say, but know he will.

"Your house? Please?"

There was a time when sleepovers with Rafe were a common practice. Sometimes, after parties like this, with Kelce and Topper.

Other times when you convinced the boys to binge a new movie or TV series, usually ending with at least two of them falling asleep. Rafe made a habit of grumbling his critiques of the things he watched, but always stayed up with you.

For a while, when he hit an especially rough patch with his dad and spent more nights than he would've liked getting high out of his mind.

As much as he'd tried not to pull anybody else into it, he found himself seeking comfort in the warmth of your bed. It helped that you always received him with open arms, even when his early morning phone calls were disorienting and he cried silently into your shirt in the hours after.

Those nights felt so distant, and yet, like you could touch them if you reached out just far enough.

Rafe had girlfriends on and off, and sometimes that version of him felt like a stranger. You felt a strange pity for yourself when you realized that it might've been a good thing. That he was getting better and without falling back on a crutch, even if that crutch was you. Suddenly, him sleeping at your house felt weird and misplaced more than anything else.

"I don't know, Rafe...," you begin to trail off, but the blue desperation in his eyes makes you reconsider. He's still holding tenderly at your wrist. "Fine. But if you puke on my sheets, you're done. Do you hear me?"

Whether or not Rafe hears you is unclear, but you take the delirious smile forming on his lips as a non-verbal affirmation. He huffs out a long breath as if he can feel himself finally relaxing. His eyes start to close again, too, as you start his truck and drive the short way to your house.

"Don't even think about falling asleep on me, Cameron. I am not lugging you up the stairs."

"You're strong." He reasons smoothly, lids still shut as he smirks. "You were about to deck the shit out of Aron Andersen when I found you."

Getting Rafe up to your bedroom goes better than you'd imagined, now with a few years of experience under your belt.

You get him to sit down on your bed, and he fiddles with the items on your nightstand while you rummage through your armoire for an old pair of his pajamas. He complains when you throw him a pair of sweatpants and a sports t-shirt he used to wear in junior high, claiming that it'd be too tight over his arms and chest.

Plus, he'd added, it was far too hot to be wearing a shirt, anyway.

"I love these."

Changing into sweats of your own, you exit the bathroom to find Rafe sitting up in your bed, part of his bare torso obscured by your white sheets. His attention is fixed on a small group of rings on your bedside table, silver and gold hues reflecting under the dull rays of your lamp.

He slowly picks one up.

"Yeah, I'd hope so." You snort, tentatively slipping into bed next to him and painfully aware of the sorry excuse for space between you. "You got them all for me... kook."

Rafe cracks a sleepy smile, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You wouldn't tell me which one you wanted." He shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world.

He sets the ring back on the table and switches off your lamp, blanketing the room in a stroke of darkness. Rafe lies on his back and you opt to turn to your side, facing the wall.

Looking at his face only a few inches away from yours, when he's about to sleep in your bed, feels like it will be too much.

"Asking for what you want is weird, Rafe. Nobody likes it."

You chew on your bottom lip in the dark.

"I do." He says in a scoff that turns into a yawn. "How else is anyone gonna know? People don't usually stop you and beg to find out."

You swallow roughly. That was true enough, they didn't.

But Rafe did. He always did. You revered him for it.

There's a long silence between you and all that echoes against the wood framing of your bed are the heavy and sometimes irregular sounds of your and Rafe's breathing.

Against your better judgement, you think he might've fallen asleep and almost turn around to check.

"Is it me?" He asks quietly, voice scratchy with exhaustion. "... what you want?"

You feel your shaky breath hitch in your throat.

"Because if it is... you don't have to ask."

His words linger in the air for as long as it takes your wildly beating hard to calm down.

By the time your body regains some feeling, the sound of Rafe's soft snores pierce the oddly crisp air clouding your room, and the choice to unpack what he said right now, or in the morning, is made for you.

A shiver runs down from the nape of your neck to the tips of yours toes.

Rafe is gone by the time you wake up.

The harsh but comforting sound of rain clangs against your roof, and you stretch your limbs to the thought of a cloudy and obscure summer day.

It's better this way, you think. The absence of Rafe's warmth next to you would feel worse if the sun was shining, teasing.

Your fingers play underneath your comforter to locate your phone. Scrolling through your notifications, you frown seeing that none of them are from Rafe.

In his defense, it was only about 9AM now, and he'd probably just had enough time to take a quick shower, get himself the smallest bit presentable, and still barely make it to his meeting with a client.

The used bathroom towel in your hamper and flannel pajama pants hastily thrown on his side of the bed are compelling indicators.

In his defense, he was drunk, and there was no telling if he remembered anything about last night.

Drowsy proclamations of desire and confession, included.

You wrestle with the idea of calling him and letting it all spill out.

Kissing him on your front lawn, in the rain, with dewy blades of grass nipping at your feet. Hands threading through his wet hair and tugging, hungrily, because you're starving and happy, and these are liberties you can afford in imagination.

But you settle on seeing him later tonight, in person. It's your dad's charity after all.

"I just wish you would have told me earlier." Your disappointed words hang in the air for a few moments as you play with the hem of your silky baby blue dress.

Your father had mentioned to you once before that his new business partner had a son about your age, newly graduated from UC Irvine.

He hadn't mentioned, though, that this mystery guy would be attending the charity tonight, and he'd offered you up as his own personal tour guide.

Your father hadn't used the word date explicitly, but that's what it felt like when you were handed an odd-smelling bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly next to the brunette who you were apparently to keep the company of all night, though he might as well have been a stranger.

Daniel was nice enough.

He complimented your dress and your makeup, smiled and pulled out your chair before you sat down at your assigned table.

But it felt weird accepting praise and chivalry from him when your heart was busy beating erratically at the simple thought that your dress matched Rafe's eyes.

The venue is extravagant like it always is, what with it's elaborate crystal chandeliers, ice sculptures, and floral center pieces larger than your head.

At your table, you note your and Daniel's name cards labeling your seats. Next to them, are Topper, Kelce, and Rafe's. There's a sixth seat that has no label and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, considering that Topper or Kelce must be bringing a date.

"This place is incredible. Your dad is so impressive." Daniel says in awe from the seat next to you. His eyes trail around the room, wide in amazement, reflecting back all the vibrant lights in the brown of his pupils.

You smile weakly at him, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear that always seems to take flight despite your attention to detail.

"Yeah, he's really something. Likes to orchestrate a big show. You should see him at the winter ball. Live doves, and everything."

Daniel nods, moving on to say something that starts to sound unintelligible when something else piques your interest. Someone else. Multiple someones, entering the banquet hall.

Craning your neck, you make out Topper and Rafe. And a girl.

No. Topper... and Rafe and a girl. She has her arm tucked around Rafe's as he escorts her in the direction of your table. He's wearing the grey tux you like, the one he wore to Rose's sister's wedding with the ornate thread detailing. His smile makes the two halves of your heart squeeze together.

"Hey, you okay? You're squeezing that wine glass pretty tight there."

Daniel likely means well, eyeing the way your fist clenches around the stem of the glass you've yet to take a sip from. You shoot him an embarrassed smile and release your straining fingers.

An emotional support water bottle sounds like it would be really nice right now.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous... my dad always gives a speech at these things." You explain.

As the trio begins to approach, you realize it's Shelley Thompson gripping Rafe's arm, a sweet girl you knew from the Kook Academy.

Even now, she always waves when you run into her at the Island Club, and she has a swing on the golf course like no other.

She's a good match for Rafe. You hate to admit it, but it's true.

When Daniel speaks again, you can barely hear him.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Daniel chuckles. "I have a hard time imagining that your dad would be bad at anything..."

Topper, having heard the tail-end of your conversation, plunks himself down in the chair across from yours and rubs his forehead tiredly. You shudder at the way he smiles empathetically at you. Like there's something to be consoled about.

"Hangover?" You ask, shoving the shaky feeling down and shooting him a teasing smirk.

He groans loudly and buries his face in his hands.

"That's the understatement of the year. Feels like I'm getting my skull bashed in." He mutters through the skin, then he peels his head away and grimaces at the screechy music being played. If there was one thing your dad was bad it, it was decent music taste. Topper laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe I am."

The lightheartedness is interrupted for a moment as Rafe and Shelley pull up to the table, taking their seats accordingly. Rafe rakes his eyes over Daniel for a few seconds, but otherwise stays silent and it makes you frown. You look at him, desperately trying to uncover if he remembers any details from last night, but his expression is unreadable.

Shelley, on the other hand, grins at you enthusiastically and starts to chat with you about the time she interned at your dad's company.

You find yourself glancing at Rafe every so often, each time catching him staring blankly ahead or at his lap, and always fidgeting with his fingers.

"Who's this?" He asks suddenly, nodding his head at the man next to you.

"Oh." You swallow. "This is Daniel."

Finding that insufficient, Daniel takes it as an opportunity to formally introduce himself.

"That's me." Daniel waves sheepishly, gently squeezing your shoulder with his other hand. "Y/N's been showing me around. Well, her and her dad. I really love what Mr. Y/L/N's been doing with his company. He does some incredible work out here. It's not often that you see-,"

Topper snickers when he cuts him off.

"Maybe he should've been your date."

Daniel laughs it off, blushing slightly and concealing it in a short cough. But you kick Topper under the table in retaliation, ignoring the way he holds his shin and groans out a soft "Ow!".

After that, Shelley, Topper, and Daniel divulge into conversation, shifting from topic to topic and at some points, sharing boisterous laughs together.

Rafe keeps his lips pressed together and his words concise. While you fiddle with your utensils, you feel his eyes on you, igniting heat under your skin.

He stares at you hard, like he's waiting for you to say something. Begging, even, with the way his forehead tenses and his brow stays quirked.

But you didn't know what to say.

Or maybe you didn't know how to say it. Especially not here. Especially not when he had a date.

Rafe rolls his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek, standing from the table abruptly, the movement making the cutlery tremble.

"Hey, I have an idea." He says while tugging on Shelley's hand. "Let's dance."

You watch as Shelley squeals with excitement, jumping from her seat to follow Rafe towards the center of the large room where the music is playing.

"Couldn't pay me to get closer to that band." Topper mumbles offhandedly. You're sure he's trying to make it sting less, but some pains don't have a perfect antidote.

Daniel sends you a look, silently asking if you want to join them.

"Maybe later." You reply quietly.

Watching Rafe wrap his arm around Shelley's waist, you feel your heart sink slowly into your stomach.

In the middle of Daniel's rambling and Topper's occasional acknowledging hums, you rise from your seat and stumble into the courtyard for some fresh air.

Surely, your heart would keep sinking if you saw any more, and your heels were too tight to fit anything else.

The courtyard is a beautiful mix of greenery, fairy lights, and concrete statues, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest. You sit on a stone bench and try to control your breathing with your head between your knees.

Though it's turbulent and shallow at best.

"What's wrong?"

You know it's Rafe without looking up. Sighing into the palms of your hand, you slide them down from your face and lift your head up. Surely, your makeup is smudged, and the thought makes you more miserable.

"Nothing." You say more sharply than you intended. "Nothing's wrong. Just go away, Rafe."

He looks at you completely scandalized.

"Are you... mad at me?"

You let out a deep breathe, averting your gaze to the ground as you collect yourself. "No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"

Rafe scoffs, entirely unconvinced. He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Well, fuck, if this is 'not mad', then I don't want to see what mad looks like."

"Can you just drop it? Please, Rafe? Drop it?" You beg, sniffling slightly as you stand. You hadn't noticed when your cheeks started to get wet. Likely too much in denial.

Despite the way it's honoured you in the past, crying was offering no release at this point. It's not like any of this was Rafe's fault. Even if he had gotten your hopes up last night, he wasn't obligated to act on drunken pillow talk. Maybe he hadn't meant it in the first place and was only trying to make you feel better.

"You won't talk to me." He says sadly.

You bite down on every explanation you want to give him. Chest pain heavy and unrelenting.

"Just... go back to Shelley, Rafe. She's probably waiting for you."

Rafe looks puzzled when the words fall weakly out of your mouth.

Then, he nods, like something finally clicks for him. He meets your eyes with fervor as he presses his lips together.

"So, this is about Shelley?" He asks.

Your head hangs and silence intensifies between you. It speaks for itself.

"The same Shelley that's been fucking Kelce on and off for the past two years?"

He watches your mouth fall open and eyebrows furrow, continuing as you stare at him.

"Kelce promised to take her out on a real date, but then he got caught up at work... asked me to keep Shelley company until he showed up. We didn't come here together, together, Y/N. I thought you knew that."

Your mind buzzes as he speaks, bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

So, he wasn't here with Shelley. And he probably did remember both what he heard and said last night if he could recognize that you were jealous.

Jealous. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling was always two-fold. A person would feel jealous, then humiliated that they had. You don't know which one is worse.

You peak an eye open, chewing through your words. "Why couldn't Topper do it?"

"Have you met Topper?"

That was a good point.

Still reeling from the new information, you look down at your lap pensively.

"But you did." Rafe begins after a few beats of silence. When you frown in confusion, he clarifies. "... come here with someone."

You crane your neck up to look at him. There's something you can't place in his eyes, but it's cloudy and all-consuming. His hair is a mess from the way he's been ruffling through it, and his cheeks are flushed and tight.

"What, Daniel? Are you kidding me? I only brought him because my dad ask-," you begin to explain, but Rafe cuts you off.

"I don’t care why he thinks he can touch you. I just want him to stop.”

Despite the small gust of wind that blows past you both, you feel a warmth at the base of your neck... in the palms of your hands. Maybe it was the beams of light overhead, illuminating your bodies amidst the greenery.

Or, maybe it was just Rafe's words.

The intensity of his gaze. The way he steps towards you as he speaks them, warm hand eventually reaching out to graze over your cheek in a way that makes you gasp in a mixture of shock and excitement.

For a moment, you think about yourself and the many soul-crushing nights spent watching Rafe talk to and touch and kiss other people, the overlapping visuals making you queasy.

"I know the feeling." You say quietly, hot breath fanning over his face.

Rafe frowns a little, soaking up the meaning of your words. He nudges his face closer to yours, until your noses are touching and his lips just barely graze over the pair he desperately wants to taste. He draws back suddenly, suspending all the air in your lungs.

He eyes you cautiously, challenging silently as he licks his lips.

"Not gonna do anything unless you ask."

You nearly cry out in response. "Rafe, please. I... I want you." Ignoring the way your desperation makes your skin feel tingly and your head spin, you shut your eyes tightly, realizing that only really skimmed the surface. You try again, gulping. "I've always wanted you."

"Fuck." He breathes out, eyes fluttering shut. "Never stop saying that."

Stifling the sound of another whine from your lips, Rafe kisses you feverishly.

He moves his soft lips in tandem with yours, swallowing each of your breathy moans. One of his hands traces over the swell of your jaw while the other stretches tenderly around your throat. "Know what I wanted to do when I saw you sitting there next to him?"

You nearly scream in protest when Rafe pulls his lips off yours, but fall silent when he trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck and collarbones, sloppily sucking the skin then laving his tongue over the afflicted areas. Unsatisfied until your pushing his head away from the sensitivity.

"Wanted to knock his fucking teeth out." He murmurs with his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving searing kisses. "But I don't do that shit anymore. So I'll ruin his night a different way."

Rafe moves your body with his until the backs of your knees hit the concrete bench. Your mouth falls open as he sits you down on it, kneeling in front of you. He presses a ticklish kiss to your knee and his bright blue eyes peer up at you through his lashes. When you nod, he parts your thighs and pulls your panties down in a single unbroken movement, committing every second to memory.

He stares longer than he should, groaning at the way your wetness collects on his finger when he traces a finger over your slit, spreading you apart.

"Can't believe," he moans into your mound, running the flat of his tongue over your center again and again. "... you kept me from this pussy for so long."

You throw your head back at the sensation, finding nothing but air and Rafe to support you as pulls you closer to his mouth.

"That," you say in a broken moan at the feeling of Rafe's tongue inside you. "That's your fault, remember? I was always here — shit! Waiting for you.”

Rafe hums against your pussy at that, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His nose nudges your clit as he tastes you greedily. You tug at his hair to dissipate some of the energy building inside your core, but it only makes Rafe work harder.

"Didn't think I deserved you." He admits, pink lips mesmerizing and wet with your slick and his spit. Rafe takes your clit into his mouth and sucks obscenely, the slurping sound sending a flash of heat through you. "Doesn't matter now. I'm good at making up for lost time..."

Your thighs clamp around Rafe's head as he fucks you with his tongue. It's only now, as gasps and high-pitched sounds fall wantonly from your lips that you come to the reality that you're letting Rafe eat you out in the courtyard, and anybody from the party could come here and find you. Still, you moan less controlled than you would have hoped when he suckles at your clit again, drinking at your sopping pussy.

"Hey, have some common decency, huh? There's some very nice people in there trying to enjoy a party."

Rafe smirks when you pull at his hair even harder, mostly at the thought that you think it could be reprimanding when he likes it so much. His teasing does more to turn you on than you'd care to admit and he can tell with the way you gush around him.

"One of em's your date." He adds, laughing slightly as he curls his tongue inside you. Entranced at the way it makes you whimper and writhe like putty under him. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb at the same time, chasing the crest of your orgasm. "C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Come all over my tongue."

Your release makes your back rise off of the slab of cement you're seated on, thighs slotted over Rafe's shoulders as he licks you through your climax.

The pleasure is insurmountable, your mouth falling open and your eyes screwing shut as that familiar feeling completely overwhelms your senses, the burn of your elbows against the cement keeping you anchored to the ground.

Rafe smiles when you pull him by the belt of his dress pants to capture his mouth in a long and sweet kiss. It helps clean up the residual wetness.

By the time Kelce makes it your father's charity event, he sighs tiredly into the crown of Shelley's head, pressing a wet kiss there in greeting. On his way in, he got trapped in a conversation with your father and some guy he'd never seen before named Daniel who was more inclined to kiss your dad's ass than he was to breathe.

Finally taking his seat next to a very drunk Topper, he squints his eyes at the sight before him. You and Rafe, unable to keep your hands off each other, giggling at nothing in particular. And when not giggling, kissing.

"Are you seeing this shit?" Kelce asks Topper, gesturing towards his two closest friends shoving their tongues down each other's throats. Shamelessly, at that.

"Dude." Topper groans, sighing like this was no surprise to him. "Where the fuck have you been?"

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #rafe x reader #i love writing completely ridiculous and unhinged side characters #topper too i always make him so weird LMAO #this is a lil rough around the edges but !! whatevrrr

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babiebom · 3 months

Text

Sebastian NSFW Alphabet

A/N: the actual love of my life is next, be prepared for the others to either come over the next couple of weeks or the next couple of days depending on how fast I do them.

Tw: nsfw content(sex, kinks, cum, ome mention of piss yk the usual) cursing

Wc:idk

Stardew Masterlist NSFW Alphabet Masterlist

C- Cum (anything to do with cum,basically)

If you asked him to his face he’d just say that he’s okay with whatever you want but in truth he wants to ruin you completely. I think he would be very awkward and unwilling to admit that he wants to cum inside you and on you. Like he wants to go until you’re covered and filled with his cum. It’s probably a possessive thing.

E- Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

I think I’ve talked about this before? Like he’s either a virgin or he’s had one or two people that he’s slept with before. I do think he and Abigail have hooked up at least once but stopped at some point because something happened. But I do lean more towards him being a virgin right now

He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he learns quickly and never shows that he’s clumsy with it. Acts like he’s just learning what you like in order to pretend that he’s cool calm and collected. Inside he’s freaking out because he doesn’t know what he’s doing and is VERY worried you’re not enjoying yourself.

G- Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? Etc)

He would want to be funny and relaxed in the moment, but he is quite serious because he’s kinda insecure, and wants everything to be good so he can’t really relax and be a little funny until you’re far into the relationship.

H-Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His pubic hair is dark like his hair(I know people think he’s a redhead like his mom but I do like that his hair is dark.) he will let it get messy if he’s single but once he starts dating he trims it VERY low. Like he’s not bald but is very short in order to make everyone comfortable.

I-Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I don’t think he’s very romantic unless you ask him to make more of an effort. I don’t think he’s entitled or even open with asking for sex, but you can tell when he wants to do the do. He’s more like….idk how to describe it. It’s just he’s like more touchy and cuddly when he’s horny? If you ask him to be more romantic he’ll do the candle thing probably or something nerdy but cute.

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

One of the horniest men to ever exist ngl. Dude probably jacks off at least once a day. Let’s face it, he’s an antisocial emo, who sits in his room all day because he doesn’t want to leave it and to further that point he even has a job that requires him to not leave it. Seb has so much alone time and so many naughty thoughts that he has to rub one out in order to even concentrate properly. Luckily no one really bothers him so he has only been caught probably once and as a teenager.

K- Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lord Jesus this man has too many to count so I might go top five. He likes role playing and dressing up for SURE. Wear that maid costume, or if you’re particularly dominant out HIM in a maid costume. Let him wear his Wizard cosplay like dude is DOWN. Bdsm. Literally(I say this word way too much)as a whole he likes bondage, he likes sadism and masochism(he will let you choose) he’s into dominant and submissive roles(again he will let you choose) it’s just FUN for him. He likes choking, and probably has a body worship kink (both ways), and overstimulation. Used to edge himself on accident and it became a thing for him

L-Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his room, or near the lake. He likes it most on his bed because after it smells like you, and he’s always dreamed of fucking a significant other in his bed during one of his jerk off sessions, and literally having you in his bed is a dream come true. Also on the couch in his room, because it’s kinda depraved. Like you two were so wrapped up in each other that you couldn’t make it to the bed that’s a couple of feet away.

He likes the lake because it gives off the exhibition vibe while honestly being kinda private. Like he’s usually the only one by the lake at a certain time (unless Demetrius comes and ruins the vibes for him even if he’s usually on the other side of the lake) and living on the mountain top means that no one is really around to snitch on him. Like his mother is too wrapped up in her husband and his sister is too wrapped up in her experiments and robots to even notice that he’s railing you by the lakeside.

M- Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I feel like I’ve said this for EVERY character so I’m gonna try to reword it from just *you*

His mind gets him going. Like he’s always thinking of something dirty, even if he’s doing something completely innocent. Like he can be working and all of a sudden his mind is wandering because his work is so boring that it can’t help but fill the boredom with things he finds fun. Like video games and fucking you until the both of you are on the verge of passing out.

N- No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Like the last letter, I feel like i say it a lot for each character but like anything that’s too gross. Like I think this man might go pretty far. Would probably even try piss stuff once if you really wanted it. So like anything that’s farther than that is a no.

O- Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Would say his preference is giving but in reality it’s receiving. He loves giving head, don’t get me wrong. But he will never turn down you giving him head EVER. There’s just something about how the comepletely falls apart when your mouth is on him. He could cry from how thankful he is that you’re willing to do this for him.

Giving head I would say he’s decent and get better every time. He strives for greatness(lmao like he’s an elite employee) when it comes to getting you to cum. He will always try new techniques in order to get you cumming quicker each time. He wants you to feel the best he can make you feel.

Q- Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc)

LOVES THEM. COMPLETELY!!!! Wants to be in you all day every day, and if quickies are the way to do it before he can have you all to himself, well, guess you’re gonna have a lot of quickies throughout the day. Oh well!

R-Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

Like I mentioned earlier, Seb has a bit of an exhibitionist kink, it’s more that he wants to show off that he gets to fuck YOU. Like look at my hot significant other, rather than showing off his skills or himself. He doesn’t really want people to watch at all(unless it’s like Sam who he’s cool with watching) but like he does wish that people knew that he somehow bagged the hottest person alive(you). So he’ll fuck you in semi public. Like at the lakeside in the middle of the night, or in his room when he knows everyone is awake

And yes he is always game to experiment. If it’s going to make the experience better for both of you, his thought process is: why not? Willing to try almost everything once.

T- Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I think he probably owned like a vibrating cock ring or a pocket pussy or a tenga egg or something while he was single. Now that he has you he rarely uses those things anymore unless you want him to incorporate it into sex.

Will buy toys for you, and if you buy toys for him he won’t object. Likes using them during sex, even if he doesn’t think y’all need them.

U- Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Likes to tease a decent amount, especially the more confident he gets. Will tease and laugh at you(in a mean but good way) if you’re begging or crying or something. Gives in if you beg just right though. He’s a menace not evil.

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bitterchocoo · 1 month

Note

Can I request an romantic angst with Aventurine and Malleus (Male Reader)? Like Male Reader is turning into his Overblot form because he realizes he'll outlive Aventurine and trapping Penacony in the dreamscape.

Once Upon a Dream

Aventurine | M. Reader as Malleus Draconia [Twisted Wonderland]

----------

"You'll love me at once.... the way you did once upon a.. dream.."

----------

[Name] Draconia.. the crown prince.. of Briar Valley..

No one would have thought that someone like him... could have his eyes on someone from the IPC! How!? Some money grubbing asshole?! Has the prince gone mad!? He's obviously being used!?

Meanwhile on the IPC side, it's more of.. disbelief...

How? How could someone like him have none other than the crown prince of Briar Valley?? Him? Of all people??

But if one were to stop and look for just a moment... it's not what everyone originally thinks. The prince's lover.. is far from the "money grubbing asshole" people say he is. He's surprisingly charming, and has his way with words. One could see why the prince loved him so much.

Same thing could be said to the prince. People who once saw him as a cold and uncaring person was shock to see just how caring he can be.

Some would say, they're perfect for each other. They completed each other. They're the only ones who could see right past each others mask and saw the real, true version of themselves.

----------

A music box that plays an unknown melody. Its tune sounded unsettling yet also calming. Like a tune playing in a distant dream.

It intrigues him.

Such a unique way to invite someone..

And oh how happy he was to see his beloved in that place. His beloved who was also invited into this place where others would pay millions just to spend the night in.

Penacony.

"Ah! You Highness, I see that you're also invited? I thought they might have forgotten your invitation." Aventurine joked sarcastically. It's almost comedic with how [Name] always didn't receive an invitation where he is supposed to have one. It's like fate is messing with him.

[Name] can't help but chuckle at the joke. "Yes, I am indeed invited to this grand festival."

"Well that's good, it means you could enjoy a once in an Amber Era performance."

During his visit, the crown prince had met multiple people, they're so friendly and they didn't seem to fear him. How delightful! Accepting Penacony's invitation had got to be the best decision [Name] had ever made! Not to mention, meeting the famed Nameless too! If only he could share this moment with Lilia. Those rectangular things are just so hard to command! [Name] has full respect to people who know how to use such objects. Truly, they earned his respect.

And oh how happy he was that the Trailblazer wanted to spend some time with him exploring the dreamscape. This is truly more than he could ever wish for.

"Please let me go!"

Drip... drip.. drip..

"Is that you, Screwllum?"

Drip... drip.. drip... drip...

Those words...

Such desperation..

Such sorrow..

Isn't this a dreamscape? Then why are they suffering? Why the sadness? Why the sorrows? Why the desperation? Those people he helped Trailblazer save.. why are they so..

It wasn't until the Trailblazer explained it that he finally understood...

...

.....

...Have humans always been this fragile..? Have they always been this vulnerable to everything around them? To the point that it'll only take a single flick from someone like him and the flames of their lives extinguished?

The sight of that girl being killed by that thing... are humans truly that fragile? That a simple and clean injury caused them their lives?

Drip... drip.. drip... drip... drip..

...

"Aventurine!" The sight of his beloved walking like he had come out of a bar or a fight. It broke his heart with how distraught he is. His beloved.. how could this happen? Who did this? Why is his beloved like this?

[Name] glanced at Dr. Ratio, expecting an answer out of him. Only to be met by silence. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as doubt and uneasiness creeps within him. But that doesn't matter at the moment... what matters is his beloved. [Name] turned his head to face Aventurine as he looked at him with concern and loving eyes. "Aventurine, are you already? Can you stand properly? I can carry you if you like."

"It's nothing serious, [Name] just a killer headache, that's all." Aventurine says with his usual smile.

As far as [Name] recalls these things called "headaches" aren't usually this.. horrible.. has these headaches always been like this? Is immense pain what they all feel whenever these headaches happen?

"It's nothing really, I'll be fine! But if you excuse me.. I have some work to do.." Aventurine says before walking towards Aideen Park with a rather large bag. [Name] watches on as his beloved practically whimpers in pain, he can't help but feel saddened by the sight. Where is his usual energetic and happy beloved? Why did this have to happen? Who did this to him? Who dare lay a hand on the [Name] Draconia's beloved?!

Dr. Ratio seems to have noticed the other's distress as he let out a sigh before saying. "It's pitiful isn't it? But I suppose that's just how it is. One day we all will be like that too. Supposed you could say, he's preparing for that day."

...

...'we all will be like that too'..? What does the doctor mean by that..?

Looking at his surroundings, [Name] could see a few elderly people walking around the Golden Hour. They look tired and worn out, with wrinkles on their faces and those white hairs...

Is that what happens to humans when they age? If he recalls, Lilia had told him something about these before. But.. never would [Name] thought he'll see it for himself. This thing actually happens. Humans age and then they...

...will Aventurine face the same too?

Will he too grow old and tired? Will he need a cane to help him walk? Will he suffer from some sort of illness or fatigue? Will he..

The thought puts a pit on [Name]'s stomach.

He's going to outlive him. [Name] would continue to live while Aventurine...

----------

'A once in an Amber Era performance'..

Oh how true those words are.. How true those words are..

Standing behind the curtains of the Theme Park, Aventurine ready himself for his upcoming act. But as his hands touch the soft material of it, his guests seems to have found him first before he could say anything else. The ground shakes like a light earthquake. This wasn't his doing. This wasn't a part of the performance! What's going on?

As much as it spoils his plans... Aventurine has no choice but to deal with this situation first and who wouldn't make a better teammate than his friends from the Astral Express? Carefully walking towards the center stage of the Theme Park. They certainly didn't expect the Prince of Briar Valley to be there. What is he doing in a place like this? Deserted. Where he stands alone with only his thoughts accompanying him.

Turning around to face the crowd, he smiles at the sight of them. "Well well... what a glamorous party. The Astral Express... the Emanator.. and the IPC's ambassador.. everyone is here. Fufufu...!"

His usual deep and velvety voice sounded just as soft as always, but somehow for an unknown reason, that tone sounded ominous, sinister even. A chill went down Aventurine's spine. Never had he heard just a tone [Name] before..

"Aventurine.. I've been thinking about this. What should I give to you.. No, what should I give you all? And I finally got the answer."

"Please accept this... It's a gift from the bottom of my heart."

They all look uneasy. A gift? What is it for? For what occasion? A gift for everyone? What is this gift? Gathering his courage, Mr. Yang spoke up in a calm and nervous tone. "Gift? Your Highness... what are you thinking about?"

[Name] can't help but chuckle at those words. "Listen carefully, everyone! I've bestowed a wonderful gift for you all. There's no need to part ways and shed tears again. We shouldn't celebrate "the end" today, it's the "beginning"!"

"Fufu.. yes. All of you will be born again today." Raising a hand, [Name] channels his magic as he smiles sweetly at everyone. His usual friendly smile looks more sinister with every word that came out of his mouth.

"To a world without sorrow where you don't have to lose your family, friends.. everything!"

The fight is not easy. Far from it. Never would they think that they'll be fighting the Prince of Briar Valley. Fighting someone as skilled as him is a nightmare in itself, but they've survived for this long.. and it seems that [Name] had enough as he engulfed the surrounding area in flames.

"Back off, you fool.. why be afraid? Even though a wonderful future is waiting for you. Now give me your hand, fufufu... hahaha!" Channeling another spell, [Name] smiles warmly to welcome this new era. One without pain and suffering.

"Spinning wheel of fate, keep pulling the thread of disaster. As King of the Abyss, I shall bestow this upon you."

"Fae of Maleficence."

Drip... drip.. drip... drip... drip.. drip..

The bustling life of Penacony... had come to an abrupt stop.. to embrace another dreamscape. One with no danger.. a safe heven..

A place where they all can live happily as all of Penacony is engulfed in thick thorn walls. Like a cage. "Don't worry... there's nothing to be afraid of. If you surrender to sleep, a thousand years will go by in an instant." The Prince stated with confidence as he calmly walked through the stage of the Theme Park in his new form. A form that he had embraced to fulfill his wish and grant everyone this wonderful gift.

"You all will become the main character of a fairytale."

The tune of the music box he received.. it's such a nice calming tune, yet so ominous..

"I know you.. I walked with you once upon a dream.. I know you.. that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.."

It's a tune no one couldn't possibly be mistaken. Like a lullaby. Maybe those who sent him such a thing.. has the Prince's heart in mind. As he sang a lullaby to help them have a pleasant and wonderful dream. Following the tune of his invitation to this.. place..

"And I know it's true, that visions are seldom what they seem.. but if I know you.. I know what you'll do... you'll love me at once..."

"The way you did once upon.. a... dream..."

#seme male reader #top male reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine x male reader #twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus

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nexusnyx · 1 year

Text

from eden

Joel Miller x f!Reader [3.3k] Summary: The nightmares left when you started sharing Joel's bed, but that never meant they were gone. When you have your first episode in his presence, Joel's right there. He's there, all around you, inside you, comforting you. It's so different than all the other desperate times you two became one that you wonder how much of it is meant to soothe you, and how much was a need of his.

— A/n 📝This was written because I had a nightmare and no Joel to comfort me, so I'm being self-indulgent to the max. You're welcome. Reblogs and comments make all the difference. — Warnings⚠️ mature content—explicit depictions of sex, so minors dni. | 🏷️ age gap, established relationship, morning sex, comfort sex, nightmares, soft!Joel, making out, dirty talking, fingering, missionary sex, prone bone, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex y'all).

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Before you, his sleep was non-existent. Restless, a black out, a body function that hit him when Joel reached his limit. It was achieved through scotch, overworking himself, and sometimes, when the date offered no other alternative, pills.

Now, Joel sleeps — okay. He rests.

Drool on his pillow, body waking up with the feeling of new, sometimes even going as far as dreaming. It's insanity, and although he's only had it for months, Joel's terrified of how addicted to it he is.

No matter how great the sleep is, it's still light. Always will be — there's no deep sleep at the end of the world, and when you stir in his arms, Joel wakes up in a second, only to notice this is nothing like the other times; he regains consciousness and is taken by your panic like a cold shower, and in a second, he's alert.

"Baby — hey, hey," he whispers your name, calling you back to him. "Wake up." He repeats your name louder, and you awake in a pained gasp, which echoes in him. "Hey — baby. C'mere."

At first, the shock stops you from abiding by his words.

All you can feel is the hot peng in your chest still echoing from the images passing like a movie before your eyes, the hot ache enveloping all your middle from the sense of alert danger alert, but Joel is patient as you breathe through those seconds. His palms rub both your arms, and he keeps his distance, his breath steady, his eyes set on you firm despite their hazy sleepiness. Once, Joel could barely sleep heavily enough to get rest, and now, he woke with sleep still clouding the edges of his visions.

Because of you. Because of — "Baby," he whispers again. This time, his voice lands somewhere conscious and your gaze meets his. "There you are." His digits apply gentle pressure on your arms to see if your body has relaxed enough to be guided by him and sure enough, you feel the slight pull as a port and sink your anchor into him.

Your upper body sags on his, falling on his touch.

You wished for radio silence. For something to come and take away the pain, the lingering feeling of those worries your subconscious manifested as horrible pictures to dissipate.

And it comes. In the shape of Joel's hand gripping your nape and his other hand wrapping around your waist to pull you even closer, comfort arrives.

"Shhhhh." Only when he shushes you the sound of your whimpering register — you're crying. Wetting his sleeping shirt. Still shaking. "I've got you."

He repeats those three precious words more times until you've calmed down. However long that takes. All you know is that one moment you can barely think beyond what you saw in those dreams and next, you're wiping your cheeks on your forearms and looking at Joel through your wet lashes.

He feels your eyes on him, turns around and flicks the lamp by the bed on.

Faint yellow light illuminates his features amidst all the darkness, and you breathe.

"You're alright," it slips out. You almost cry again, biting at your bottom lip since you're unable to bite your own words back, or swallow them now that they're out in the open.

Joel's brows crease in confusion for only a moment, and then it hits him. It was about him. "I'm alright." The claim erases every ounce of weight left in your chest. "C'mere," he pulls you closer, and you take the invite.

Stradling his lap is your favorite thing, even if you're still shy to do it; the level of desire and attraction you have for Joel is embarrassing, the effect he has on you and how desperate you are for every crumb of his touch and affection should make you ashamed. All it does is make you blush, or occasionally stutter.

Joel takes it all with a good heart. He adjusts your body in his lap, resting his face on your shoulder, and then breathes in deeply.

Breathes out.

After blissful moments like this, he asks. "Feeling better?"

With you, always. "Yeah." You want to look at him, but his neck is where Joel smells the most like himself, and it makes you a bit drunk. Sleep is long gone from your body — that's what a few touches from him can do. "You always know how to help."

Joel chuckles and the huff of breath tickles your neck. "All I did was shush and hold you."

"I know. That's perfect."

Joel would ask if you want to talk about the nightmares, but no one does. He starts petting your hair. "Think you can get back to sleep?"

You shake your head.

His head tilts. What do you want, then? "Still thinking about it?"

His question makes you double-check, and — no. You shake your head. "Just..." Instead of answering, you show him.

A roll of your hips, and the surprised groan it pulls out of him makes the hint of a smile show on your face.

He put you on his lap. That's all you needed to go from asleep to wide awake. Or at least, I want you awake.

"Fuck—," Joel's fingers dig deeper and hard into your waist. "'s what so?"

You nod. "Can we?"

"Can we what?" Joel asks, because while few people know it, he's a little shit.

"You know what," you whine. "Wanna feel you. Please?"

The way you whine brings out something borderline animalistic in Joel.

It took him by surprise every single time — it was a hook you had, an energetic and magnetic pull that turned Joel towards you almost on instinct.

Joel goes from being half-asleep to reeling about all the ways he wants to taste you. It should be over by now, the stupid flutter in his stomach whenever you kiss him like this, devour his oxygen in a starved and greedy way, but they only amplify somehow.

All he does is kiss you for a while.

Joel sighs into your mouth and licks around your soft whimpers. He feels overwhelmed — with only a few rolls of your hips and the desperate tightening of your legs on both of his sides and he's hard as a rock. Straining against his briefs, wetting a spot on it because you're rocking against him and all but melting against his hand on your hair.

When he pulls back for air, Joel has to just look.

He grabs a fistful of your hair by the nape and pulls your head back as gently as he can — you mewl. Whine coming out scratchy, on the back of your throat, and he sort of smiles.

It's on his face. He can feel the tugging on his lips at the sight in front of him. There's the faintest notion of light coming through the windows, the early signs of night dissipating, and they illuminate you just right. Soft, royal blue lights illuminate the contour of your cheekbones, and Joel needs to see more.

Wants to. He lets go of your hair and tugs on your shirt—no, on his shirt, taking it off with your help.

Usually, Joel's talkative from the start. He discovered you have a thing for his voice early on and lost the ability to shut the fuck up ever since. Your words, not his.

Usually, it's not this, though—not this slow, or this reverent.

One of Joel's hands keeps running through your body, smoothing out all the exposed skin, and he can tell by your body that the touch is relaxing.

Then, you break the silence by leaning your upper body, closing the space between your heads. "Joel," you whisper in his mouth. "Wanna suck you off."

The one thing you love doing to distract yourself—he'd allow it, but something's tugging at him to offer more than just distraction.

Joel wants to offer you comfort.

He closes the gap and kisses your eager and waiting lips, tasting you again before answering, "Not now, baby."

You whine, squeezing your thighs around him. "Why not?"

He remembers something and runs his hands over your ass as he talks, massaging and squishing the flesh. "You told me I could touch you as much as I wanted to, remember?" He gets his fingers under the ban of your panties, squeezing harder. "On our night, you told me I could always do you like I wanted, right baby?" Joel seals his lips on yours again in a harsh kiss as both of you recall the night. The first night. The one you two deemed 'your' night. He pulls back. "Was so filthy that night, baby—"

"Wanted you for so long—" and shit, that gets to him.

Joel spins both of you around and lays your back to the mattress again, rocking his hips with yours. "Dunno what you see in me, baby—" you poked him hard on his side, mean and pointy and hard, and Joel looks up to see you frowning at him. Right—no shit-talking himself in your presence. He chuckles, and grabs your chin, tilting your head up so he licks a stripe down your jugular. "My bad — 'm thinking about how fuckin' lucky I was and started off on the wrong end of it."

"Damn right you did — oh." The gasp you let out loud is matched by his cursing.

Joel pushed your panties to the side, taking advantage of the lack of clothes in way, and all he wanted was to check. Instead, he gets his fingers soaked in all of your wetness. Just from kissing. Just for him. "All for me, baby? Jesus fuckin' Christ." Joel runs two, three fingers between your folds, wetting his digits before he starts thumbing your clit. "I love your mouth on me, y'know that. Always get So messy. Do it just like — I like it. But I just wanna see you feel good right now."

"Joel."

He had no idea where it came from, but his brain paints the picture for him.

Your eyes wide, twitching with fear.

It'd been a while since he saw that. Matter-of-factly, Joel was sure now he'd never seen that expression on you before. He would know — the long days Joel spent cataloging ever line, wrinkle, freckle on your body; he was no stranger to your nature. Joel walked into your deepest and darkest woods, and whatever nightmare woke you up today, it was a new storm brewing.

You're alright, you had said.

Joel sinks his fingers inside you as he sinks his mouth on your neck, seeking comfort in you at the same beat as he's trying to offer it.

You clench around him, and Joel sighs when your nails dig at his back. It's not just his voice you like. Joel stops thinking about all the reasons why you could be afraid and focuses on making you forget there's a world to fear. "Like my fingers, don't ya?" he rasps out, inching his face back so he can share the same breath as you.

"So thick," you babble out, thighs spreading wider for him.

Joel wasted many hours in front of mirrors convincing himself he was past the futilities of caring about appearance, attraction, and things of the such. However, all you needed to do was this:

"Joel, oh god, Joel," like a prayer. Eyes closed, rolling at the back of your head, like a surrender. The way you forced them back open just to look at him, and your mouth gaped open — Joel could feel the lust oozing off of you. "So fuckin' handsome, Joel. You look so good fucking me."

He growls, pulsing his fingers in a curve inside of you, abusing the spot he knows to be carved only to break your mind. Designed to make you see stars.

"So flatterin'," he laughs, sucking on your abused lips. "You make me feel handsome," he confesses, milking the trembling in your body that he recognizes quite well. "That's it — let it all go for me, baby."

Your first orgasm cums in a silent scream, as you let his fingers guide you into white bliss.

Joel moans unabashedly as you ride it out. He kisses your jaw since your lips are too busy hanging open, frozen around the letters of his name.

"Joel—too much, too much," you cry out, and he takes out his fingers from inside. He guides them to your mouth, and you part your lips. So obedient it drives him nuts.

"Lick 'em clean," he orders softly. He watches you do it, and imagines it's his cock inside of his fingers, but he has to prioritize now. He wants you in that way he knows it drives you wild — the way it pulls at your animalistic instincts and gets you screaming into the pillow. "Turn around, baby, c'mon."

It's like you know.

You do. Your eyes widen for a second and you moan for him before readjusting your body under him.

He grabs his own pillow to position underneath your hips when you lay with your belly down, settles his legs outside of yours and does his best not to drop his whole weight on you just yet.

"More, more," you whine for him. You want more of his weight — lord knows why, but you enjoy being smothered by him. Joel gives you just a little more and pulls your hair away from your face so he look at you. "Please don't tease me."

He wanted to. God, Joel really wanted to be strong — and young — enough to tease you until you were crying; sometimes, when he was rested enough, when you riled him up just right, when the adrenaline was high, or when something clicked and the air sizzled with a tension between you two, then he could.

Joel could make you cum two, or three times, before he put it in.

Other times, you were both starving for it.

He positioned himself at your entrance and pushed just the head in, wishing he was less riled up, but finding comfort that you were right there with him.

"Joel," you beg.

He smiles, and slides it all the way in. It's so wet, and so tight, and he's so, so fucked.

He praises your name. Catches his breath on your sweaty shoulder, and sucks on the back of your neck.

When you whine for more, this time, he truly has no words.

All Joel does is enjoy the way you're a mess with him.

He starts at a slow pace, pulling out the way out so he can enjoy the drag of it getting back inside. He does that until his arms are aching with the effort of keeping himself upright, and then he's lowering himself further, enjoying how much louder you get.

"Tell me if it's too much," he pleas in your ear.

"Faster, need it faster," is all you have to say back to him.

Joel abides. He gives it to you just how you want it, and he knows you're about to cum again before you start blabbering about it.

"Oh, god—'m gonna, Joel—right there—"

"Here, hm?" He bucks his hips harder, and is rewarded with your moans getting higher. "Fuckin' love findin' your sport, baby. Clenching — so fuckin' tight around me."

"'m gonna cum —"

"Oh, I know baby — clenchin' so fuckin' hard around me. Do it." He grabs your hair again and tells himself to hold it back. "Cum around my cock. Show me how bad — you love — when I give this pussy — what it deserves."

It's a mess of tangled libs and sweat from then on.

You convulse around Joel, your whole body trembling. With thighs still shaking, Joel pulls out and flips you around so he can see your face. He lines up and cups your face with the other hand, "Can I, baby?"

You nod with tears streaming down your face. "Please," it's only a whisper. "Please use me. Wanna—"you push your hips down, and Joel sinks it all the way in, making both of you moan. "Yes. Need your cum, too — need it so much."

Joel was teetering on the edge when he started fingering you and watched pleasure take over you. The minute that thin layer of sweat started covering your curves, he wanted to paint your back in his release. Wanted to bury himself to the hilt inside of you.

So he does.

Joel brackets your face between his forearms, and looks you in the eyes as he fucks into you. Not for the first time, he looks deep into you — switches his gaze between the place where your bodies connect to your face, and it's in your silent plea of his name that Joel loses himself.

He sees you starting to lose it — his sides are carved and marked, painted in red by your clawing and scratching, and he knows you're overstimulated from orgasms so close to each other, so Joel knows it'll be easy to do what he loves.

Make you cry out of pleasure.

When he feels his balls tightening, Joel starts to take longer thrusts to make his pelvis stimulate your clitoris at the same time as his hips meet yours. He lets out a loud moan at the feeling of your walls constricting, and, "'m gonna cum, baby, fuckin' hell—"

"Do it, do it do it, Joel, please—"

"Fuck, beg more. Beg."

The litany of pleas falling from your mouth is drawn out in white noise when Joel cums harder than in a long time, spilling hot and deep inside of you. Filling you up a lot. Fuck—he cums so much that the aftershocks last for minutes; precious time that he spends caressing your hair and enjoying your legs trembling in spasms of sensitivity.

Joel grunts a lot. To pull out it's the hardest — your whine gets him to shush and coo, "Shhhh, 's okay baby, 's okay." He peppers your face in kisses to replace from the sudden emptiness. "'m here."

"Don't leave."

"Won't," he licks under your jaw and gets out from on top of you. Grabs the closest piece of clothing to clean between your thighs and to get rid of most of the mess, then throws it far away for the two of you to deal with in some hours.

When he pulls you to his chest, Joel feels content.

He can feel your heart beating. The steady, strong pulse soothing into something calm.

With both chests touching, Joel recognizes when your breathings harmonize.

He smiles, wondering if you already fell asleep.

You haven't. "You're such a dream, Joel." The words are whispered against his chest, where your lips are. Over the sternum of his collarbone, touching it feather-light. The words make crawl through his skin and as soon as they make contact with his ribcages, they start growing there. A dream.

He understood the feeling. You were a dream. He hugs you tighter, wishing he burns this tender blue-lit moment in his mind to always come back to when he needs comfort. (When you're not around.)

"You're a dream, too, baby."

For a second, he wonders if you heard it. Then, he feels it.

A smile on his skin.

A dream or not, you two are in the same haze. That's all he needs. Let him sleep for good if it's like this — with you. In your arms.

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene — @levylovegood — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @sanzusmile —@yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 💖

⚠️ if anyone being tagged would like to not be, just let me know in my inbox (which you can also use to talk to me about all the appeals of Joel Miller with his hair slicked back. Just saying hehe.

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naomihatake · 9 months

Text

In search of freedom (Ch. 1)

1. They're bad news

Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa. This chapter follows the events of the first episode.

Warnings for this chapter: physical violence (fights), mentions of deaths, fluff, some cursing, mentions of tarot and palm readings

Word count: 3,6k

Theme song: “Loreley” by Blackmore's Night (click on the link)

A/N: This is the first part of a fanfiction I was thinking of since first watching One Piece Live Action. I started the anime too and I'm around episode 64 already. I'm using the OPLA course of action for now and I have no idea for an ending, but enough scenarios to write and share. I don't know how far this will go, but I'll have fun writing it and considering how much I like Zoro (born anime and LA), I'm using both of them as inspiration. Sorry for the lack of interaction between reader and Zoro, but I promise things will change.

The reader will be referred to as "Witch" especially in the next chapter, because I have no intentions of using "Y/N". There will be more information revealed about her past and abilities in the next chapter.

I'm open for comments and opinions <3

"Excuse me," she smiled sweetly while swaying away from someone who was standing right in front of her and a table she had to serve for. "Here," she carefully let the plates down.

She received a large smile coming from the young man with dark curls and a straw hat hanging around his neck. His pink haired companion seemed very shy, barely glancing at her before looking back at his plate, thanking in a small voice.

The tavern buzzed with a peaceful energy in the late hours of morning, the big windows letting the warm rays of sun in, lighting up the place. There were men sitting at a few tables, no sign of any other woman except for her and the very owner of that place, who just finished cooking something — were those cookies? It smelled divine.

Her dress fluttered around her knees as she moved away from their table to take other orders, a strand of her hair falling against her cheek after running around for so long. When she finally stopped in her tracks by the bar, intense eyes searched for anyone else who might've needed something. Lucky for her, she could finally breathe for a few seconds, resting her hips against the bar.

However, her eyes fell on the tall figure who just chugged down his throat a shot of alcohol. His green hair made her frown to herself, looking away before she could get caught ogling some stranger. After a few seconds, she looked at him again, this time at the three swords resting against his hip.

Three swords? What can someone do with three swords?

Everyone probably had the same question whenever they saw him for the first time. However, he felt somehow familiar, as if she's heard of someone like that before. A pirate? No, wait, a pirate hunter? The owner told her of so many things and so many people it was impossible to remember each one of them, but she was pretty sure she mentioned some pirate hunter only a few days ago.

Her thought process was interrupted when a man with blonde hair and suit walked by in front of her. Considering the men dressed in white uniforms who entered with him, they must be marines and he was probably their superior — he was walking like he owned the entire port.

She held back from rolling her eyes in annoyance. Her thoughts ran back to what her friend said about pirates last time, the way they argued back and forth about how pirates aren't good. However, she had her own reasons for claiming that not all pirates were ruthless monsters, without elaborating.

She flinched lightly when she heard the thud of a metal plate falling on the floor, snapping her head towards a little girl who was stuttering apologies to the blonde man. Her eyebrows were pulled together at his angry and loud voice mocking the child who had tears in her eyes, fear seeping through her very bones at the exaggerated reaction.

Apparently, they knocked into each other. Oh, there were two cookies on the floor. One of them got crushed under the man's foot.

She smoothly made her way by the side of the little girl, smiling at her as she crouched down to her level.

"Is everything alright, little one? Did you apologize?" the woman's hand squeezed the girl's shoulder warmly.

Rika's only response was a nod.

"Good job. It's alright, I'll help you clean up. Why don't you bring me a broom, hm?" she coaxed the girl with a gentle voice.

Once the girl walked away, she stood up straight again, arching her eyebrow questionably at the arrogant man by her side.

"Is there anything else I could help you with?"

"What, are you working here? If the answer's positive, then you better teach those stupid kids some manners," he huffed.

"You should teach yourself how to behave," she commented right back, her sharp gaze sizing him up and down.

"Take that back. Next time I won't be so nice," the blonde marine grinned.

Oh, and what an ugly grin it was on that fucker's face.

"You dropped my food," a low voice from behind interrupted.

The young woman turned her head towards the voice, confusion written on her face as she made a few steps back, out of his way. It was the green haired man she noticed earlier, now sitting on one of his knees on the cold floor.

Rika came back with a broom almost twice her size, the object quickly taken from her hold by the woman who smiled at her again. While they exchanged glances, the pirate hunter let himself down on one of his knees, taking some of the crushed cookie into his palm.

A sly smile tugged at the woman's lips. A pirate hunter or not, he had more dignity than a marine even in that kneeling position. She was more satisfied to see the little one smiling.

"Your turn," the green-haired man lowered his voice, a dark glare thrown at the astonished marine.

The pirate hunter raised back up and placed the metal plate on the bat, his intimidating height against the arrogant blonde monkey in front of him telling enough.

"Apologize to the girl," he demanded in a relaxed tone.

"Me? It was her fault for bumping into me. The lady should apologize for disrespecting me."

Apologize, my ass, she thought to herself, one step away from bursting out laughing. What did he take her for?

"Do you want a fight or what?" he drew his sword out, a knowing grin curled on his face. "I don't need three swords to fight."

The woman looked down at the little girl who was still by her side, ruffling her hair.

"Why don't you go to your mother, hm? And stay there until I call you back."

Her stern voice didn't give space for arguing; Rika complied, going to the kitchen.

She heard some muttering and next thing she knew, both of the men in front of her had drawn their swords out. Apparently, the green-haired one decided to advance closer to the marine, in an attempt to keep the fight away from the lady.

Hmph. Swordsmen and their unusual gentlemanly behavior.

Squeezing the broom in between her fingers, she moved away, furrowing her eyebrows in a scowl.

"No fights in here, you jerks!" she scoffed.

Expertly, while the other marines attacked one man — how unethical of them — and swords clashed against each other after sharp whistling noises, the woman swept away the cookies on the floor. She faked doing her own duties, like the good employee that she was, throwing careful glances at the fight happening right next to her. If she wasn't careful enough, she could get sliced in two.

"I advise you to get out of the way," she heard the swordsman's voice growling right after he threw a chair into three men, making them fall to the floor.

"You'll destroy the entire place if I do."

Right after saying those words, without anyone noticing in that damned agitation, with a quick movement of the broom, she made one of the marines trip.

Just like the idiots that they were.

"Oh my god, you should be more careful!" she placed a hand over her lips, fake surprise and fear coloring her features.

Who would believe such an innocent being was capable of such malicious actions?

With a strong creak followed by a thud, one marine was thrown into a table that turned the both of them upside down, groans filled with pain vibrating through the tavern.

She was right about them destroying the place.

However, the commotion didn't cause too much distress to the woman still moving the broom around, acting as if she had business with that newly found weapon. It might not be lethal, but she couldn't be spotted while she was intentionally making the marines' jobs harder. In the month she's been working there, she saw more than just one fight and used everything that she saw fit to stop it — be it a broom or a kitchen knife.

Now that she analyzed the fight better, it seemed like the pirate hunter barely even had to draw his sword out of its scabbard, at some point knocking someone's head into the bar. He used his raw strength and the objects surrounding him, thankfully without destroying any of them. The can he threw into another man's stomach seemed so effortless.

That must've hurt, though.

The blonde marine was quickly pulled by the back of his collar, back colliding with the bar, and an angry swordsman towering over him. She didn't hear anything nor paid attention anymore, eyes focused on the tavern that was ruined only half way through.

She sighed after watching both of the men walking out of there, biting her lower lip to hold back a fit of laughter at the marine who stumbled while being dragged by the bounty hunter.

"Why do men always fight in this tavern?" she talked to herself, raising one of the chairs and putting it back in place. "One day of peace is all I want in this port, only one day, and I can't get even that."

She sighed again, only for that long exhale to get stuck in her throat once her eyes fell on the table that was almost sitting in the opposite way rather than how it should be. Once she approached it, stepping by the marine who was trying to get up.

She would never help someone who had less dignity than a dog following some orders from a brainless monkey. Heck, even those animals were smarter.

Instead, she tried to move the table back in its place. Her fingers were so close to gripping at one side of the table before someone appeared at the opposite side. The young man with a straw hat and a square smile she served only a few minutes ago raised the table by himself, carefully arranging it until he was satisfied with its position.

"Thank you so much for the help," she smiled at him. "Be careful where you step, I think a glass also broke."

There were some shreds on the floor somewhere close to the table the young man sat at earlier.

"Thank you for your concern," he smiled just like the first time.

Gosh, has she ever seen such a beautiful soul? His eyes sparkled and the happiness suited him like it did to a little child who has no clue of the harsh world. However, he didn't seem phased or scared by what happened earlier — his hands weren't shaking at all and there was no fear lingering in his stare.

She turned to take the broom and came closer to his companion, who was sitting under the table. She bent her torso to give him a hand, helping him get back to his feet.

"Careful with the glass, check your hands," she warned again.

"I saw what you did there."

She turned towards the straw hat guy, blinking owlishly at him.

"I don't really get what you mean."

She started sweeping the shred of broken glass, not paying attention to the curious and insistent gaze she was receiving.

"You surely do. I'm Monkey D. Luffy and I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!"

Her eyes widened at the second part of his speech, snapping her head back at him. Without even realizing, her fingers were squeezing the broom quite harshly, fingertips going white.

"That's—" she started in a small voice, blinking like an idiot and staring at him.

She's heard that before. She's heard the same dream before and it brought so much suffering.

"That's dangerous," she finally got the courage to continue, still hesitant.

"You're brave for interfering with their fight."

Luffy looked into her eyes as if he could guess the thoughts running through her head, as if he could read her very soul, drinking in her features and reaction.

"You must've seen wrong," she let out a light chuckle, getting a grip on herself. "I'm just clumsy sometimes."

She was thankful she stopped herself from cussing out the Marines, because in less than a second after she finished her sentence, a few other men dressed in white uniforms appeared to help their comrades back to the base. She casted a skeptical eye at each one of them, like silent warnings.

They were pathetic, some of them still stumbling while trying to get up, their swords thrown around carelessly. After they all disappeared from her sight, her shoulders obviously relaxed again.

"I have to admit I hated each second of staying so much with these idiots around," she huffed quietly. "That spoiled child who takes advantage of his father's status was getting on my nerves."

"That's why you helped that swordsman, right?"

Luffy continued with his supposition, not letting go of what he thought he saw — it was the truth, but it would be dangerous to admit.

"I didn't help anyone, really. That was unintentional."

"Don't press it too much, Luffy," his companion's voice trembled.

"Koby, I know what I saw," Luffy pulled his lips into a straight line.

She resumed what she was doing, sweeping at the pieces of glass, seeing almost each one of them in the light seeping through the window.

"If you want to become King of the Pirates, I suppose you also want to get the One Piece, right?"

She was foolish. She was stupid for asking, for getting herself in such business that somehow always ended with too many deaths, with broken dreams. However, something was nagging in her gut. Deep down, it felt so right to ask.

"Yes! I need the Grand Line map for that and I intend on getting from the Marine Base here."

"You're insane, kid," her shoulders shook with her light laughter.

It was a sour sound.

She stopped, leaning her weight into the broom, looking down at the glass in front of her. She shouldn't help them. She should stay in her place if she wanted those young men to survive. What they were trying to do was basically suicide, they just didn't know. Koby seemed to be more fearful, hesitant and so, so shy. Luffy didn't say "us"; he said "I" — the pink-haired guy was not really part of the plan.

Against better judgment, she raised her head at him, promises sparkling in her eyes just like the shreds of glass.

"You can't just ask for that map and I hope you know that. What you want to get yourself into isn't just dangerous, it's like jumping into a suicide mission," her voice strained, pouring all of her hope in her next words: "However, I can help you get inside. Be careful, you have to make sure no one catches you."

"So I was right about you!" Luffy beamed.

"Right about what?"

"That you're brave."

Her lips opened, but no sound came from between them. It was pointless to deny it when he seemed so stubborn about what he saw and believed.

"I think this is a lot to say about someone who's helping you steal secret maps," the side of her mouth curled upwards.

Koby was left astonished. Stealing from the Marines was suicide.

"Listen here, kid," she lowered her voice, stepping closer to whisper. She set her gaze on Luffy's. "You have to get out of there alive, no matter what. Lie if you have to, but I have a feeling you're very bad at that, so be careful. That isn't a place to fool around in. You could get yourself killed in a blink. The Marines are very sneaky."

"There are good Marines and bad Marines," he shrugged. "Maybe I'll meet someone who's willing to help."

"I like your enthusiasm, but that unit base doesn't fit," she shook her head. "Both Captain Morgan and his son aren't the good kind of people."

She squeezed the broom in between her fingers again, an ugly feeling clawing at her throat. She didn't want a kid to die for following his dreams, but freedom was something she always craved.

"I'll tell you a way to get inside the base from underneath. You have to keep your lips sealed — I don't worry about myself, but about the owner and her daughter. I don't want word spreading around."

"You can count on me!" he placed his hand on his heart, as if he sealed the promise there. "Who are you? I want to know who's helping me."

Damned be his sincerity.

"I'll give you my name after you get out of there alive."

She smiled, eyes sparkling with delicious mischief.

"That is a promise. I'll be around the Marine Base and I'll tell you my name after I see you get out of there alive."

That seemed to stir something in Luffy's soul, inhaling with pride. A man of his word, indeed, just like she thought.

"Deal.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

Her name left the lips of a scolding mother, even if it wasn't her mom.

"I saw you." The second time she heard tthat same phrase in one day.

Annie patted the tip of her shoe against the floor repeatedly.

"I was just lucky enough not to get myself in trouble," she shrugged.

However, her eyes fell on the floor, guilty about getting caught like a deer in the light.

"You could've gotten yourself in big trouble!" the owner of the tavern raised her voice.

Rika pouted up at her mother, trying to sweeten her reaction.

"She just wanted to help, just like—"

"Rika," this time, the scolded one firmly spoke her name. "Don't take me as an idol. It's true that something could have happened."

The little girl shouldn't worry about such a bloody world just yet and she wanted to help it for as long as possible. Being stubborn was a death sentence, even if she would always get herself into trouble if it meant to stick to her principles.

She'd rather die on her feet than live on her knees.

"Just because this time everything was fine, it doesn't mean next time will be the same," Annie exhaled loudly, frowning.

"There won't be a next time," the young woman sank her chin in her chest. "I should leave these days. Soon enough, word will spread out about my tarot and palm readings. I don't want to cause you any more trouble."

"You little witch," the usual scolding was replaced with a warm nickname.

She raised her head again, struggling to smile. Leaving after she got attached always hurt.

"That man was Roronoa Zoro, wasn't it?" Annie asked, her body suddenly tensing.

"Most probably," she shrugged. "Three swords, three earrings. He put on quite a show, to be honest," the words were followed by a chuckle.

"I see the way your eyes are sparkling. Don't even think about getting into some conversation with such a troublesome person."

"What could do some adventure to a poor soul like me?" she teased.

"It could bring you six feet under."

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

"I'm no witch, you idiots!" she struggled against the harsh grip the two men had on her arms.

She hissed when one of them sank his fingertips in her upper arms, glaring at him.

Shithead marines.

She continued writhing and struggling, stomping her feet into the ground in an awful attempt to stop them. She intended on keeping her promise after she helped the straw hat sneak into their base. She waited for as long as it was necessary after she gathered her things in a bag that hung around her shoulders. She was supposed to leave that place after she made sure the kid was alright and alive.

"God dammit!" she shouted. "How many times do I have to explain I'm not doing anything wrong?!"

"You're lying to people and receiving money, filthy witch. You're a thief," one of the men commented as they continued walking her away from the port.

"I didn't steal shit!" she snapped.

"Watch out!" she heard a familiar voice.

Instantly, she bent her torso down. The man on her right was punched in the face with so much force he released her grip on her and stumbled into the marine on her left, both of them now on the ground.

She didn't even get enough time to process what was happening, something curling around her waist carefully, but so fast. A yelp left her lips when she realized she was being lifted off the ground, turning her head towards the source.

It was the straw hat's arm. He ate a devil fruit, didn't he?

He was on a boat that was sailing a few meters away in the sea and she was being pulled towards him. She also recognized the pirate hunter from earlier and a woman with orange hair, both of them far too relaxed for what was happening.

That guy was made of rubber!

She recognized Koby who just got to his feet after she got past him, her feet finally touching something solid again. She blinked confused at the straw hat.

"You can't bring everyone that you like on this ship," the swordsman let out a hopeless sigh.

She busted out laughing like a maniac, the colorful and rich sound filling the air. Her shoulders shook and she had to place her hand over her stomach, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Obviously, her reaction was met with an especially questionable look coming from the swordsman, who most probably thought he got on a ship with another insane human.

"You're insane, kid," she wiped the tears in her eyes with her fingers, still smiling widely.

She hasn't felt such relief in years.

"I guess I gotta fulfill a promise, right?"

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

946 notes · View notes

bluebeary-jay · 6 months

Text

Face to face

Din Djarin x f!Mandalorian!Reader

Summary: as riduurs, you and Din can finally show your faces to each other without suffering any consequences. but when the time finally comes, your insecurities and fears of rejection come into play, threatening to ruin this important moment

Tags: just pure tooth-rotting fluff, Din and Reader being insecure, they're sweethearts though and so in love, Din being a supporting husband <3, mandalorian customs are probably half-accurate but i did my best in research 😌

Word count: 3K

A/N: haiii guys!! long time no see 🤗 i had this idea ever since i watched s2 of the mandalorian almost a month ago and i'm finally done! thank you to all who stick around and i really hope you'll enjoy my first attempt at writing din (feel free to let me know what you think 🤭)! i love all of you darlings 🥰 and as always, happy reading!! 💕

Din Djarin wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone, but he always wanted a family. The memories of his parents were hazy, but he remembered how much they loved each other and in the depths of his soul longed for a connection like this someday. Being the bounty hunter didn’t give many opportunities to look for a relationship, however, and with time he abandoned the hope for a place and people he could call home. He convinced himself that he was content being on his own.

But then the Child came along, and with it everything has changed. This little wrinkly womp rat became the most precious being in his life and Din was ready to die to protect Grogu – but he never expected that he’d also meet his future riduur because of the kid.

He did. You, a fellow Mandalorian Din spoke to only a couple of times in the hideout on Nevarro, decided to help him on his quest, and from this moment on he didn’t stand a chance. You were everything Djarin admired – brave, compassionate, skillful and kind – and though you both respected the Way of the Mandalore and never removed your helmets in each other’s presence, he knew in his soul that you were beautiful as well.

It was a long road to come to terms with what he felt for you and gather the courage to actually let you know it. But it was all worth it just for this moment when you exchanged your vows and he officially became yours, and you his. Now you were his riduur and he finally had every right to admire and cherish you like you deserved.

And most importantly, he could finally see you. The pair of you talked about this moment a lot during the nights spent on the Crest, tangling your fingers together when the ship was flooded with pitch-black darkness. Din used to whisper to you of his dreams, how he longed to run his eyes over your uncovered body, taking his time to commit to memory every little detail of your physique and expressions. You, with a giddy and wistful tone, told him how impatient you were to at last find out how his lips would feel on yours and what color his eyes were. Even when you both knew you were going to marry, you didn’t rush things and never removed your helmets until your union became official.

But you did see each other’s faces, once, though not in a conventional way. Din remembered it clearly as a day, though his eyes – as well as yours – were covered by a piece of a material the entire time. Both of you were desperate for each other that night, the tension hanging above your heads straining the resolve about waiting. And then came the moment when you didn’t fight it anymore. Instead, you both sat down on Din’s cot and without your sense of sight spent the next hour talking and trailing fingertips down each other’s faces.

Din reminisced about this moment a lot of times. He tried to remember the shape of your features to create a full picture of you in his mind while he laid alone in his bed, longing for your vicinity. Even if your bodies were separated only by the layers of beskar, it was still too far for him.

He didn’t have to wait any longer now.

It was the day of your wedding and Din Djarin never felt happier than in that moment when you recited Mandalorian vows and he got to touch your bare hand again, not covered by a glove, to put a custom-made ring on your finger. It wasn’t a necessary but he wanted to make this day memorable and meaningful for you. A few tears of joy were shed, but his face was still concealed by the helmet, allowing his emotions to take hold of him.

He hadn’t let go of your hand since the small ceremony (if one could even call it that) ended, and you squeezed his palm every few steps as you walked toward a house that was going to be your home for the next couple of days. The Child was being taken care of by other Mandalorians so that you could be completely alone for this special moment.

You were buzzing with excited energy for the whole week prior to your wedding, but now Din could sense his partner’s nervousness. He wasn’t exactly surprised – after all, it has been years for both of you since anyone saw you without your helmet on. But with every moment that you neared the bedroom, you seemed more insular, more withdrawn and hesitant, and Din started to really worry.

“Are you okay, cyar’ika (darling)?”

You slowed down, not answering right away, which caused Din to furrow his brows with confusion. Maybe you didn’t want to do it after all? Maybe it was too sudden for you? Or maybe he came off as too eager?

“Cyar’ika,” he repeated softly, wanting to put you at ease – but it didn’t seem to meet the target. “If you’re not ready…”

“No. No, I’m ready. I just…”

You trailed off. Din wordlessly guided you to the edge of the bed, cradling your hands in his – one gloved one and one not. The light of the setting sun flowed in through the small window and reflected off the hard beskar you both wore, bathing your figure in a beautiful golden light.

He was already so in love with you. What could possibly be the cause of your hesitation?

“I’m just nervous,” you murmured at last with your head bowed, looking at your joined hands. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” the Mandalorian repeated before he could think, and shook his head slightly. “What are you… What are you talking about? Why would I ever be?”

You lifted your gaze, and though Din couldn’t see your eyes, he could almost feel the weight of your fears on his own shoulders. The modulator in your helmet was hiding any trace of it, but he knew you long enough to recognize the tiniest shift in your body language.

“Ner kar’ta (my heart). I could never be disappointed with you.” He laced his fingers with yours, once again admiring how perfectly they fit together, and lifted them to his chest. “You own my heart and soul now, and nothing will change that.”

He hoped to soothe your nerves, but you were still silent. It wasn’t at all what Mando was expecting from this evening and he was at a loss for what to do to fix it.

“Would it help if I showed you my face first?” he asked after some time, and your head snapped up.

“No.” Even with the modulator, your voice clearly sounded broken and regretful, and it was wounding Din more than anything else could. “We were supposed to do it together.”

“We can,” he assured quietly, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. “But the most important thing to me… is for you to feel comfortable during it. If you want to wait–”

“I don’t.” You untangled your hands from his hold and instead brought them to his chest, placing them on the beskar breastplate. He couldn’t wait to take it off and feel your touch on his skin. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t marry you and make you my riduur.”

You leaned forward and lightly bonked your helmets together, a sweet gesture Din loved since the first time you did it.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum or’atu an mayen. (I love you more than anything.) More than life itself.”

“I know,” he answered simply and delicately brought your hands to the edges of his helmet. It was obvious what he was offering you. “That’s why I’m willing to do it for you.”

You were still, not daring to move, and Din nodded slightly to show you that he’s certain of his decision. His heart was beating heavily in his chest, though, and he could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck.

Showing your face to others was one of the worst crimes in Mandalorian culture, but doing it with your riduur was the highest honor that not everyone was fortunate enough to experience. But Din Djarin was among the lucky ones. Even though it was not in a way he always imagined, he didn’t care as long as you were happy.

You gripped the edges of his helmet tighter and a high hiss sounded, a telltale sign that the metal piece was ready to be removed. And slowly – so very slowly – you did. Din felt a flow of cooler air on his hot skin: first his chin, then his cheeks, finally his forehead…

And lastly, he inhaled shakily before lifting his head to look into the void of your visor.

A second passed by. Then two. Then ten, though Din felt like it must’ve been a full minute now. And still you didn’t move, just watched him silently, motionless as a statue.

The Mandalorian swallowed with difficulty, starting to feel very self-conscious. The crisp air cooled the sweat gathering on the nape of his neck and he had to use all his self-control not to fiddle his fingers nervously. He felt so naked and exposed under your gaze, though he absolutely shouldn’t – you were his riduur and there was no reason to feel ashamed or insecure with you. But he couldn’t help worrying: what if he wasn’t what you expected? What if you didn’t find him attractive at all?

Then a movement of your hands drew his attention and he watched, transfixed, as you slowly started to take off your glove, tugging one finger off at a time. Once your hand was freed from the confines of the protective material, you flexed your fingers before lifting both of your palms to his face.

Even though Din was acutely aware of your every move, he still somehow flinched in surprise at your touch, causing you to freeze and search his eyes with the air of concern around you. He quickly gave you a small nod, silently begging you to proceed, and, thankfully, you did. Your fingertips traced his cheeks, so delicately it almost tickled, brushing down the path to his stubble, and then back up to the arch of his nose and eyebrows. Djarin’s eyelids fluttered closed and he let out a shaky breath, giving in to the most amazing sensation that your touch was.

“I knew you had to be the most beautiful being in the galaxy,” you whispered from under your helmet with a voice filled with a plethora of raw emotions. Din regretted not being able to see your face at that moment, but if it would help you feel more comfortable in such a memorable and important situation, he was ready to do anything for you.

“I’m sure you’re a million times more radiant, cyar’ika,” he said back. His voice was weirdly weak and raspy, sounding strangely to him – probably because he knew there was another person hearing him without his helmet on. “Even if I don’t see your face, mesh’la (beautiful), today or ever… The love I have for you will never change or waver. That I promise.”

“It won’t exactly be fair to the Creed if I don’t remove my helmet in front of my husband,” you answered, half-teasing, but Din knew there was a real worry behind your words.

“You know very well there’s nothing said about it in the Creed.” He opened his eyes, offering you a small smile. “And I don’t remember our vows mentioning it, either.”

You clicked your tongue with exasperation, but Din also saw your shoulders relaxing, a sign that some of your nerves ebbed away.

“Gev bic (stop it),” you laughed, letting your hand fall down – but before it could happen, Din caught your wrist and lifted it back to his face. He slowly kissed the inside of your palm, down to the veins disappearing under your sleeve, his eyes fixated on your visor the entire time. His smile grew slightly when he felt a shiver run through you.

“I love you, ner kar’ta,” he whispered. “Even if you’re a half-Hutt under your armor.”

“Don’t push it.”

You let go of his hand and Din’s face fell, fearing that he really went too far. He reached for you but stopped when you straightened up and took a deep breath, your hands going to the last thing that separated you from him – your helmet.

He held his breath and his heart beat erratically as he watched you. He tried not to blink, not wanting to miss the moment when he finally got to see your face. Just the fact that you were willing to do this meant so much to him, but…

Slowly, you took your helmet off and placed it down on the mattress right next to his. Then, a pair of irises gazed into the depths of Din Djarin’s heart.

…you were wrong.

Oh, how wrong you were.

There was no mistaking it that you were by far the most breathtaking sight the Mandalorian had ever laid his eyes on.

The Maker must’ve been overly generous, or maybe favored you, for looking at you… it felt like coming home.

You stared at him with gentle, tentative eyes of the most beautiful color in the world, and Din would’ve gladly lost himself in them. Your lips, so tempting and soft-looking, were parted slightly as you awaited his reaction, but he couldn’t move. He just watched, spellbound, and wondered if this truly is reality and not some cruel, elusive dream.

He hadn’t felt such awe even when he saw Grogu doing his magic for the first time. Hadn’t felt such elation even when a new skin made of beskar was forged just for him. Had never before felt such love in his life.

You were a wonder. A miracle.

“Cyare?”

Your voice sounded almost fearful to your ears, but you couldn’t help it – Din seemed unable to utter even a word, and panic started to flood your veins when you noticed tears gathering in his dark, beautiful eyes. “Din–”

But before you could move away, he slipped off the bed and knelt by your feet. You were so taken aback by this action that you didn’t even react when he cradled both of your hands in his and pressed lingering kisses to your fingers, one after another.

“If I could, I’d marry you all over again,” he rasped, meeting your gaze with so much love and adoration in his brown eyes that it took your breath away. “How did I get so lucky…?”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” you let out a breathless laugh of relief, your pupils darting across the lines and grooves of his face. “You… you’re not just saying that, right?”

“Cyar’ika, look at me.” He gently tilted your chin up, making your eyes meet his. For a second he faltered, parting his lips in wonder at the feeling of your skin under his fingertips, before he swallowed and gazed at you again. “Do you doubt my words?”

No. There was really no questioning his motives. You knew Din was as honest as one could be and there were only your own insecurities at play here. But the longer you looked at him, his expression so full of love and devotion, the less relevant your own doubts were becoming.

You couldn’t think of anything else but him.

“I really want to kiss you,” you whispered instead of answering, and his face broke into a wide, joyous grin. “Can I–?”

The Mandalorian didn’t even wait for you to finish – the second those words left your mouth, he surged forward and pressed his lips to yours forcefully, eliciting a surprised sound out of you, which soon turned into a needy whimper. You didn’t give him a chance to back away and instantly tangled your fingers into his hair, moving clumsily to be closer to him.

But when you attempted to climb onto his lap, your breast plates collided with a metallic clank, forcing the pair of you to put some space between you. Din huffed with frustration, while you laughed and cupped his face in your hands.

“You’re quite impatient for a bounty hunter,” you accused him playfully, nudging your nose with his. You took a deep, calming breath, wanting to surround yourself with the smell of him completely, but your riduur didn’t let you indulge for long.

He moved quickly and, without a warning, kissed you briefly again – and then one more time. It was more like a light peck, and you longed to feel his tongue inside your mouth once more, but at the same time relished in every sensation that his lips brought. Every touch he gave you was something infinitely precious.

“I’ve waited longer than you,” he murmured. His hands were already moving, taking off the beskar on his forearms and shoulders, reaching where he could without removing you from his lap just yet. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, cyar’ika.”

You smiled widely and looked up from his deft fingers to throw another teasing comment, but in one second you lost your train of thoughts.

Because Din was blushing.

The feared Mandalorian’s face – a face you were finally allowed to see whenever you desired – was sprinkled with redness across his cheeks and ears. And you were the cause of that.

The thought of it almost caused your eyes to water.

“What are you looking at, mesh’la?”

Your eyes found him again and you smiled brightly, causing Din’s heart to skip a couple of beats.

You took his stubbly chin in-between your fingers and brought his lips closer, planting a soft kiss there that had the Mandalorian melting. He covered your hand with his, feeling the band on your finger under his own.

A miracle.

“I’m looking at you.”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fic #this man needs to be PRAISED he needs to be LOVED and CHERISHED !!!!!#imagine having pedro pascal's face and still being insecure 😔 /j

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bunny-yan · 5 months

Note

I love reading all your works and although I miss giant man heavily- THIS DUKE GUY IS SERIOUSLY MAKING ME QUESTION MY SANITY 0_0!! I just really want to know more about this story, it sounds so interesting and I can't deny I want the reader to either escape this situation entirely or find a way to survive in these awful conditions ;-; I need to know what's the king's deal with his brother and I do hope that when reader gets out of their confinement they can go back to being distant and aloof to their abusers (I mean, in that same air of "I'm technically not doing anything wrong to our agreement, so you can't be mad at me for just doing my "job""), they can do what they're told (unwillingly) but Duke better not expect some lovey dovey treatment anymore-

Being the masochist I am I would even go as far as to say that reader would barely acknowledge the duke's presence after this betrayal, but the second the King is said to be coming inside their home for a "friendly family visit", reader actually express an immense amount of fear and stress- It's the only time they're able to express genuine emotions without faking politeness and serenity for their sake of their "dear" husband.

SORRY I'M JUST CRYING AND VOMITING AND BARKING, DROOLING, GOING ABSOLUTE BONKERS-

i think it would be interesting to write a story where the darling is absolutely horrified whenever the King plan to visit and the duke is distressed between making you stay and subjecting you to his brother's attention or allowing you to leave, knowing that he'd have to go to his in-law's house to drag you back. but his relationship with his brother is what i want to dive in headfirst

TW: mentions non-con, pretty tame overall, general angst

—

He was intimately familiar with his brother’s things.

Things he couldn’t touch. Things he couldn’t imagine would ever become his own because he was the second son and second sons had to pave their own path since they weren’t meant to take over and couldn’t be given away as easily as daughters.

His brother was used to receiving everything he could never have.

His parent’s love and affection, their time, the teacher’s unimpaired praise, the latest toys when they were younger, the best clothes growing up, and he even had his pick of the most beautiful women from all of nobility.

When his accomplished brother eventually succeeded in something no other ducal household had done, rising to become the monarch of the kingdom, the position he could only dream of having was given to him as a consolation prize. There was no pride in having attained the duke’s title. It was simply another of his brother’s hand me downs that had been sapped of all gratification and sentimentality. There was nothing he’d experienced that his brother hadn’t already conquered.

Until he met you.

Unimpressive you.

Hailing from one of the diminished baron families that only had a title to separate them from everyday commoners, his brother, his king thought it prudent to choose a partner that would keep his brother humble considering his newfound status.

There really was no point in resisting. No one piqued his interest enough to fight for and he wasn’t stupid enough to imagine a life with someone that could ever gain him recognition significant enough to stand by his brother’s side.

Getting engaged without his say in the matter was simply a reminder of where he stood, a reminder that wasn’t needed considering his apathetic stance on the direction his life went. But after meeting you, for the first time he’d actually been grateful to his brother.

Timid reluctance on your first meeting quickly changed to hopeful curiosity after a surprisingly passionate wedding night. You began to seek him out, interested in getting to know your husband. Interested in getting to know him.

Not the second son.

Not the King’s younger brother.

It was hard to wrap his head around at first, but the more he received this attention that he’d never gotten the chance to receive before, the more he’d crave it. Irritation quickly turned into easy intrigue when you would visit him simply to ask how his day was going. How he felt. If he was interested in discussing the duchy’s current issues. If he wanted to vent about anything and everything. So great was your interest in his worries. It caught him off guard for someone to be so concerned about his wellbeing.

It was unfamiliar.

He wasn’t used to the bleeding concern that would fill your eyes whenever he was injured during training and though it happened rarely, a part of him felt a sense of urgency, wanting to behave a little more reckless just to see that look in your eyes. To feel your soft comfort and care.

Even more surprising was the way he could completely let his guard down around you.

Taking off the constant edge, he often found himself lying in your lap, arms encircling your waist as you caressed his hair or allowed a thumb to brush against his cheek when you weren’t carelessly messing with his ears or tracing the shape of his face with your fingers. It was an intimacy he could've never hoped to imagine. To dream about and yet he did. He’d often drift off in moments like these, waking when you’d shake his shoulder to rouse him from his dreary state and if you’d managed to fall asleep as well he was overwhelmed with feelings he couldn’t describe at the sight of your peaceful face, sleeping beside him.

It was easy to fall in such a tranquil rhythm, living while being needed. Wanted by someone who had no obligation to be with you. He remembered just before your engagement was finalized, his brother offered him the opportunity to divorce if the relationship didn’t last. It would’ve been a huge blow to his pride, but he wouldn’t be stuck with someone he couldn’t stand to be around. He tried to treat you indifferently, refusing to allow you to become a stain on his perfect record, but you blew through his defenses so easily. It could’ve been your easygoing personality or the fact that his walls would’ve crumbled at a touch, had someone cared enough to destroy them and now that you had crossed to the other side he didn’t want to return to that emotionally destitute solitude, knowing what genuine companionship felt like.

You’d changed him.

From a man alone, seemingly content in his sole authority, to one that smiled on occasion with eyes that warmed to the things you said, grateful to have someone treat the rare laughter that’d erupt from his lips as a sacred treasure.

You changed him… And the King noticed too.

The Duke shouldn’t have been surprised. It never took his brother long to pick up on things like this. He was partly to blame for making it so obvious that he wanted to return to his manor, to return to you. And anything that interested the King’s younger brother was sure to pique the King’s interest.

He felt at odds when the King raised the proposition.

On one hand, he hated the idea. The thought of allowing him to touch you in the same manner that he had was repulsive. It aroused every rebellious instinct the Duke possessed which was surprising considering he never once thought to deny his brother anything. It wasn’t the second son’s place to deny the eldest what he wanted. He’d been reminded of that time and time again regardless of what it was. Even the gifts he’d received for his birthday, his favorite model cars that his older brother had no interest in would be snatched away if he spared them even a glance. The young Duke, scolded if he protested.

On the other, he didn’t want to appear as a greedy child who couldn’t share. His brother often showed an interest in the things that he liked, but if he pretended they didn’t really matter, that interest would wane to the point of nonexistence. So he’d play nice and share. No matter what his brother did, he was sure you wouldn’t develop an interest in him. You wouldn’t stroke his hair like you did his or whisper sweet nothings in his brother’s ear. These things were parts of you that were reserved for him and knowing this only gave him a sense of pride that grew when he noticed the signs of irritation on his brother’s face. For once, he relished in the fact that he had something that his brother never would.

He’d forgotten how much his brother didn’t like to lose.

The Duke sensed that things had changed after his brother’s visit.

You’d looked at him with sad, eerie eyes, mouth opening to say something you couldn’t quite put into words. Something you dared not to voice.

But you didn’t have to explain. He knew everything.

Petting you, he held you tight before going to handle his business as usual. Except you usually interrupted his work to bring him a snack or force him into a conversation over tea. Neither of which happened that day. Or the next. Or the day after that.

Concerned, he asked if you were okay and to his surprise you began to cry. You tried to explain to him what happened, but he shook his head, confused as to why you were bringing it up. You’d done your part and the King was sure to lose interest now that his curiosity had been satisfied.

The Duke didn’t understand the look of betrayal in your eyes.

He didn’t understand why you no longer invited him on trips to walk around the garden that he’d filled with flowers that reminded him of you. A section with his and your birth flowers tangled together where the two of you would linger felt distant. It felt strange being there by himself as he traveled in search of you, wondering why it was so hard to catch a glimpse of you these days.

You had dinner in your room, not the one the two of you shared. The bedroom, that you’d all but lived in since your wedding, felt empty and unused whenever he set foot in there now.

You went out, sometimes earlier than he woke up and you didn’t come back until the sky was dark and the only sound that greeted him in the pounding silence were cicadas and the sound of a pen attempting to scratch away the dread, the worry that built after not seeing you, the concern that this wasn’t something that would simply go away.

You couldn’t look at him, let alone touch him when he did manage to track you down and he couldn’t bear that disgustingly familiar sting he felt whenever you’d move away from his outstretched hand, avoiding the touch he’d attempted to share. Balling his fist, he’d pull away and attempt to convince himself that you needed space. It was normal to have hiccups in a relationship and space was something, along with time, that helped.

But with every passing day, every moment, the distance between the two of you seemed to get larger. Any attempt he made to bridge the gap only seemed to push you farther away and he hated the smug look on his brother’s face as he poked and prodded his brother on how married life was going.

As if he’d known this would happen.

Finally having enough of this, he asked you. What was wrong? Why had you changed? How could he get you back to how you were before, is the question he didn’t get a chance to ask because, to his surprise, you’d gotten angry.

You’d never been angry with him. Frustrated with his nonchalant behavior or confused with his hard to read moods, always. But never angry.

At least not like this.

You looked at him as if you were searching for something and something surged in his lungs when you drew away, unable to find whatever it is you were looking for. It felt like he had failed, recognizing those eyes that plagued him his entire childhood, and he couldn’t even be certain of what.

He couldn’t understand why you were claiming that you were leaving him!

You’d become an irreplaceable existence in his life and yet you were so ready to rip that away from him. To leave, abandon him to the crushing loneliness he didn’t realize he endured before. Now that he’d gotten a taste of happiness, he was hesitant to let it go.

More than hesitant.

The thought of you being anywhere but by his side felt appalling to even imagine, an incomprehensible idea.

He couldn’t let you go. Not if it meant returning to that time. But why is it that the words he’d been desperate to express, words that became harder and harder to say as soft pudgy hands became calloused and hard, were impossible to tell you?

Don’t leave me.

“You have a duty to this duchy.”

I don’t want to be alone.

“A responsibility to uphold.”

Please.

“If you’re so willing to view what happened as a shameful act regardless of my permission, then maintain it as a personal defect and don’t let it interfere with your obligations.”

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.

Hold me. Touch me like you did before. Look at me as if I’m the only one, the only one, the only one.

He couldn’t bear to imagine you on the arm of another. To think of you looking at anyone else the way you did when you were happy, concerned, in love.

He grabbed at his chest, begging for something, for anything to alleviate this torment, for someone to tell him what he’d done wrong.

“So, how is married life?”

His brother wore an easy grin, calmly laid back with a woman on his lap and a man at his side.

Ever the pious ruler.

He’d rather die than admit that things weren’t going well. The Duke couldn’t bear to see his brother’s smug grin.

“You were so excited to show them off to me, I couldn’t help but be curious. But they’re rather boring aren’t they?”

The Duke stilled himself.

“Even in bed they seemed content to just lie there and it was hard maintaining an ere-”

“Please excuse me, Your highness. I have matters to attend to at home.”

He got up and began to walk out, not having to turn around to see the shit-eating grin on his brother’s face. The look of superiority as if he’d always be below him.

“Oh, baby brother. When will you ever learn?”

Those words stayed with him. Even as he pulled out the key to unlock the door to your shared bedroom. It was relieving not having to search the entire manor to find you, but you had become quiet. Despondent to his words or touch. Even now as you sat on the bed, you didn’t move when he sat next to you. You didn’t spare a glance in his direction when he placed a hand on the small of your back and you said nothing when he asked you to speak to him.

He should’ve known.

In their younger days, his brother couldn’t bear to see him have anything that he hadn’t already played with.

How could he forget that his brother only lost interest in those model cars that he’d been so proud of, that he shined everyday, that he treated more preciously than himself, after he’d pulled the wheels off of them?

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #ask #yandere male #gn reader #yandere duke

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yrbladie · 6 months

Text

♡ ﾟ˖ ॱ ▎THE WAY THEY HOLD YOU IN THEIR HEART PT1ㅤ𝅄 🌿 ꒱

˖ ࣪ kaeya, neuvillette, childe, albedo, diluc

warnings ：established relationship, fluff, implied marriage, gn! reader, reader is called pretty tho (kaeya) so if this word carries feminine feelings for u be warned, just a tad bit suggestive at the end with neuvillette, mentions of aging (neuvi), implied long hair (albedo) and reader is also called a 'muse', I'm not fluent in english so I don't know if this word carries any feminine connotations, but it's warned anyway, implied reader wanting kids in the future kinda (diluc), if they're ooc I'm sorry, non fluent writer

ㅤWhen people look at Kaeya, they see his charming smile and the misleading way he conducts himself, like a well played play no one has the guts to call him out of.

ㅤWhat you see, instead, is a gentle man with the softest of hearts. The one who stays up just a little bit later after you sleep, so that he can look at you, admire you. The one who caresses your face with such tenderness that makes you wonder if he thinks you'll disappear if he were to touch you in the slightest wrong way.

ㅤYou see the way his smile drops the second he walks into your house after a tiring day. The way he sighs deeply. Sights that are only reserved to you, because he trusts you more than anything.

ㅤThe Kaeya you see outside of your shared home, his provoking grin and convinced looks, is also the same one who lays in bed with you in a night without stars, his head on your chest while he quietly listens to your heartbeat. His hand in yours like he wants to make sure you're still there with him. That you're not leaving.

ㅤAnd you tell him, "I love you" and you'll see the way his eye softens while he kisses your forehead. He doesn't say back, but you know he also loves you, for no words are needed for it.

ㅤYou know, from the way he talks about you and your achievements in the bar, when he had a little bit too much to drink. Who looks back at you when you come to get him home, and smiles like he's just seen the sun for the first time after a long while.

ㅤThe same Kaeya that tells you "How lucky I am to have snatched someone as pretty as you.", and also who blushes so hard when you tell him the same.

ㅤThe Kaeya that follows you during your dances and singing, even though he says he doesn't like the songs. This Kaeya, and the one that he shows to everyone else are the same. And you love all of him.

ㅤHis nightmares pierce your heart painfully and his dreams are also yours. His touch that lingers in your skin even after he's already left for work and you're far away from each other. His voice and laugh stays in your ears, making you think of him for the entire day.

ㅤAnd you know that for him it is also the same, from the way he always hugs you so tight after he finishes his work or when he has a break and finds you on the street.

ㅤYou're not scared of the shadows of his secrets, and you'll never be. You don't want him to be perfect, you just want him.

ㅤAnd Kaeya also wants you too. He wants you to be the one that everyday he'll come home to, the one he can share all his pain, happiness, sadness, his success and also his frustrations. He doesn't want only the good, he wants everything that comes with it, with you.

ㅤYou love him, and he loves you too.

ㅤNeuvillette loves you so deeply he starts to wonder if it truly is okay with that. If you are truly okay with it, with the intensity of his love for you. Because not even he knows to which lengths he'll go just to have you by his side for a second longer.

ㅤHe wants you to show him all there is about love, and about this life. Share your pain and laughter with him and he'll share his with you. He wants you to know that it's okay, that things get better with time and care.

ㅤEvery day he learns something new about feelings and humanity, but mostly about love. Seeing you smile over silly things, crying over having to leave a cute little bunny go back to the wilderness. Watching your back while you guide him through the streets while rambling about your favorite book or about a new play you heard about. And caressing your hands while you both drink tea in his office and listening to your giggle when he says he still prefers water.

ㅤNeuvillette never knew you could fall in love with the same person multiple times a day, but he does. No matter how much time passes, his heart still beats out of his chest whenever he catches wind of your perfume and the idea of having you by his side still makes his hands sweat.

ㅤYou gave him a purpose, taught him what loving meant under the surface. And Neuvillette felt like he would never learn enough. The judge knew you would change slowly by the years, but he hoped you would never fret over the lines of your smile, he loves it all the same. It just shows how much happiness he has brought you.

ㅤNo matter how long time goes by, how much your face changes, he'll always know your soul. And he could love it anyways, anywhere, anytime.

ㅤHe will always recognize you and will never forget about how it feels to be loved by you.

ㅤSo if you'll have him, allow him to love you for the rest of your life. Allow him to love you until even after all the stars in the night sky die, until eternity doesn't taste the same anymore, and all he can sense in the water are the memories of you.

ㅤAllow him to love you until all his dreams and fondest memories are of you. Until the only touch that'll matter are the ones that comes from your fingers.

ㅤUntil the time he has finally traced every little part of your body and has kissed every single freckle you have. Until he has kissed your lips more than a million times and knows he would do it a million times more.

ㅤFor all the eternity he could have, the forever he saw in your eyes was his favorite.

ㅤHis hands shake when he thinks about you. He'll sit and wonder if you're well and healthy, if you already had dinner or if you're still waiting for him back home.

ㅤHis heart races when he remembers each of your smiles. All the specific upturns of your lips that makes him want to kiss your breath away.

ㅤAnd he gets impatient to go back to your arms when he remembers the way you tried to hold onto his sleeve and asked him for one more minute in bed. He wished— he should've— have stayed.

ㅤBut he knows he can't always be glued to your side. Maybe you'll even hate him if he does.

ㅤSo he makes sure to spend every hour of his day to keep you safe, it doesn't matter if it keeps him from his work. He may love his job, but he loves you much more.

ㅤHis lackeys are so tired everyday to have to sit through his ramblings about you and they dread the moment he chooses some of them to guard you. Don't get them wrong, they agree that you're definitely a lovely person and that you're always gentle with them despite the reputation the Fatui have, but the one they can't stand is Tartaglia.

ㅤHe's an absolute menace if he gets even a whisper of you getting hurt under the watch of one of them. It may have been only a scratch on the knee, it doesn't matter.

ㅤChilde can be a bit... overbearing when he can have you back in his arms again, but bear with him just a bit longer, just until he makes sure you're actually safe and that nothing happened.

ㅤAnd of course, he loves to see you fight and he'll be your biggest cheerleader, not mattering if you're actually a good fighter or not, but most of all, he wants you to be safe. Due to the nature of his job, and all he has already seen in this world, he's scared.

ㅤScared that if he takes his eyes from you for one second you may be taken away to somewhere he won't be able to follow. Somewhere that not even with all his fighting skills and abilities he'll be able to reach.

ㅤChilde had no idea of how hard he was going to fall for you when he met you and sometimes he wonders what would be of him if he never had found you and you never found him. But he prefers to not linger on these thoughts, having you right now is all that matters. Loving you right now is what matters most. And if he loses you... he'll have nothing but his family to hold his slipping rationality before losing himself.

ㅤSo even if you can really, really fight and protect yourself well, please, just at least allow him to watch over your back for you. He's the best partner you could have in an adventure, so have a little faith in him.

ㅤAnd if you fall, don't worry, Childe will catch you before you hit the ground. He'll always be right by your side at your arms length.

ㅤHe wants to be there for you, no matter what. To hold your hand while treading new paths and exploring the world.

ㅤIf you were to ever ask for the moon, or for the stars, Childe will do everything he can to get them for you. He'll search around the entire world for ways to get you even a piece of the unreachable sky.

ㅤHe'll make Celestia burn and the Abyss freeze if you so ask for it.

ㅤHe wants to be there with you when you open your eyes in the morning, and when you close them at night. For the rest of his and yours lives. He'll love you until there's nothing of him anymore. And if this world burns, then so be it, as long as he can have you and his family safe by his side.

ㅤ"Love is such a beautiful concept, is it not?" he says while showing you drawings he made of you. And he couldn't help but smile at the amazed look you had and the way your eyes sparkled with curiosity.

ㅤAlbedo is not someone who will usually voice out everything he thinks. But you still know he loves you.

ㅤBy the way he gently tucks your hair back when you're immersed doing something you like, and you can see his tender eyes before he turns around to go about with his own activities.

ㅤAnd by the way he doesn't try to hide his notebook from you, for all there is are images of you. You have seen it all a thousand times already, but you'll always find joy seeing how he envisions you in his heart and mind. It looks so intricate that you wonder if you truly look like this, and he tells you that, yes, you're the closest to perfection a human could be.

ㅤHis drawings show you something that no mirror could. Something not even your eyes notice. But Albedo does, he notices every single little detail about what makes you, you. All your small imperfections and flaws, the things you hate and find ugly are the ones he'll hold most dearly in his hands.

ㅤYou're the ruler in the kingdom of his mind, the muse to his artist heart, the soothing melody to his unresting soul.

ㅤYou know all there is to know about him, about his woes and dreams, his aspirations, his shadows that clutch at his ankles like paint, staining his being.

ㅤAnd you'll tell him, "I don't mind it." even if it stains your hands, as long as you can carefully hold his heart in them, with all the love he has for you, you truly don't mind it. In fact, you love him more for it.

ㅤYou'll kiss at his golden locks and let him admire you with his sky painted eyes. He admires you like one would a butterfly, so within his reach but he'll much rather have you fly freely, showing to the entire world your beauty.

ㅤFor he knows, you love him just as much as he loves you. In that, he'll never have a doubt.

ㅤThat is how he loves you, completely, totally, calmly and wholeheartedly. Like a peaceful stream unperturbed by the exterior.

ㅤHe may not completely understand yet what love is, but he thinks he kind of gets it a tad bit more every moment he spends with you.

ㅤWhen you're hurting under the surface, Albedo will kiss at every single one of your fingertips, taking his time to show you how much he loves you. He won't say anything until you're ready to talk with him. And he'll always know, you don't even need to tell him directly. He'll know by the way the tension on your shoulders finally eases and the way you gently close your eyes, one, two seconds and then he'll talk.

ㅤHe'll tell you how important you are to him and that there's nothing he wouldn't do for you. That if you want, you can share your burdens with him and he'll hold it for as long as you need while you rest. For you, he would hold the entire world on his shoulders for eternity and he wouldn't mind it if that gave you peace of mind.

ㅤAnd you know he's being sincere.

ㅤEven if you know that he could destroy everything around him one day, it doesn't matter. Now, you feel safer than ever in his embrace and you have faith in his love for you.

ㅤDiluc's love is like the rays of the sun during the earliest hours of the morning. It never burns but also never leaves you cold. It warms up your skin and blooms in your chest like wildflowers.

ㅤHis love is the type that lingers on you and on the surroundings even when he's gone for a long time. In the clothes you wear that he gave to you as a gift on your last birthday, in the bed sheets that smell like the perfume you bought for him for his birthday and that he says it's his favorite.

ㅤOne day you realize how everywhere in his once cold and lonely manor is now filled by the warmth shared between you. Filled with the gifts bought with love, and the pictures on the walls of the both of you. And it makes you fall in love with him all over again.

ㅤIn the kitchen there's the tea set from Liyue you had bought together from Marjorie. In the living room there's the blankets in the couch you both share during the coldest of nights in winter, while sitting by the fireplace, warming each other. In the bathroom there's yours and his toothbrushes that even though he always complains about hygiene and that each should use their own, even he sometimes confuses the two similar toothbrushes and uses yours.

ㅤIn your room there's the shared cabinets and shelves, with things from far away and pictures from everywhere, even the books you read together before bed by the desk.

ㅤYou fall in love with him again, with his smile, and his contained laughter when in public, with the way he looks at you every time you visit him in the tavern or when he sees you from afar. You hung the stars and the moon in his sky, you brought the sunlight to his dawn.

ㅤYou knew you would love Diluc for forever on the day he brought you along to visit his father's grave, and instead of silently staring at it, he spoke about you. Spoke about his love for you, and about everything you did for his life. He knew his father would be proud of him for finding you, for giving love a chance again.

ㅤYou both mourned together on that day, embracing each other under the blessing of the whispers in the wind, that softly carried the scent of memories from childhood.

ㅤAnd you still remember the day where you met Kaeya. The way he silently thanked you for being by his brother's side when he couldn't anymore. To receive not only the Cavalry Captain, but your lover's brother's blessing meant a lot for you. You knew they both still held each other in high regards. And most of all, you knew Kaeya would do anything to see Diluc happy, just as you would too.

ㅤYou look through the window of your home, to the garden and the vineyard, reminiscing about shared days, of laughter, of slightly younger times. When you used to hide behind the grapes to play a prank on Diluc. When the both of you held hands while taking a walk through the garden, discussing about one day making a playground somewhere there. For the kids that'll visit you during Thanksgiving, or one day...

ㅤThen, you feel arms around you and you smile, recognizing so easily the warmth that spreads around your body. While laying back your head on his chest, there's no need to exchange words as you both already know each other's hearts so well.

ㅤEverything will be okay, his heart mutters to you, I know, yours whispers back.

ㅤYou're happy, and you're content. And you couldn't have wished for more nor less than that.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ(★)

all the edits belong to me, so pls don't use them <3

ty for reading 💗

tagging : @yuellii

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luxaofhesperides · 6 months

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Ghostlights cuddling for comfort, but also they're oblivious idiots who are pining over each other but thinks its unrequited

“Ugh,” Duke says, dropping down onto the bench besides Danny.

Danny nudges him with his shoulder. “Rough night?”

“Slept for like an hour,” Duke mutters, “This sucks. My head’s going to burst like balloon and my eyes are about to fall out.”

“Yikes. You know, you could have just canceled for today. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Duke sighs and presses the heel of his palms against his eyes. “Maybe, but I would have minded. We barely see each other anymore, man. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.” Danny bites his lip, trying and failing to stop from smiling. Something soft in his chest glows at the words, a growing spark of happiness in knowing that for this, at least, the feeling is requited. It’s nice to hear that he was missed, and it would be even nicer if Duke wasn’t in pain, pushing himself just because he didn’t want to cancel. Carefully, Danny reaches for him and pulls his hands away from his face. “Here,” he says, “Let me.”

His hands are always cold. Most of him is cold, really — side effect of having an ice core. Sam told him once that his hands were better than an ice pack, and he’s hoping she’s right or this is going to be weird.

Danny gently presses his fingers against Duke’s temples, his hands cradling Duke’s face. Duke is tense for a few seconds, then abruptly relaxes, leaning into Danny’s hands.

“Is this helping?” he asks, voice hushed to keep from aggravating Duke’s migraine.

“Mhm. Yeah, it feels great. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke goes completely limp, leaning against Danny. They sit there for a minute in silence, the rest of the world feeling far away. As nice as it is to just exist together, he knows what Duke needs most right now is quiet and stillness. Gotham is very much not that, and every honking car that passes by makes Duke wince, trying to turn away from the road even more.

“Hey, let’s head back to my place. It’s close by, and a lot quieter than out here.”

“Are you sure? I know we planned to go to the arcade today…”

“The arcade can wait. You’re more important.”

Duke blinks open his eyes and looks at Danny with something soft in his gaze. Being so close together, barely any space between them, with Duke looking at him like that makes Danny’s cheeks flush red, unable to think anything but please kiss me.

Which is never going to happen. Duke is his friend, and just his friend, no matter how much Danny wishes they could be something more. It’s a pipe dream, something so impossible it’s almost laughable.

Duke likes being friends with normal human Danny. He doesn’t want to imagine how he would react if he found out about Danny being half ghost, assuming this imaginary reveal happens without Danny being hunted down and cut open by GIW agents.

He’s still in hiding, always waiting for the worst as he stays in the apartment his friends (living and dead) had set up for him. The building is for ghosts so it technically doesn’t exists, which means it’s the safest place for Danny while he’s actively being hunted by the US government.

He can’t be honest with Duke. Can’t be as close to him as he wants to be. Duke deserves more than to be dragged into Danny’s problems and put in danger.

Even so, Danny can’t help but want him around, pushing his luck each time they hang out.

“Come on,” Danny urges, standing up. He pulls his hands away and Duke’s brow immediately furrows, his pain returning. “It’s only a few streets away.”

Duke sighs, then visibly braces himself before he stands up. Danny tucks himself into Duke’s side, taking as much of his weight as he can as he walks them down the street. It’s times like these that he wishes he could reveal his powers safely and just fly them to his apartment. But even without the GIW gunning for his head, showing off powers in Gotham is a sure fire way to get a target painted on his back.

“Almost there,” he says as they turn a corner.

His apartment doesn’t have a fixed address. It doesn’t have a fixed location at all, drifting around, but it likes this street the most, so this is where it usually is. Danny takes them halfway down the street, then turns into an alley, following his ghost sense.

Where there’s usually a dead end is instead a building, looking as if it’s always been tucked away in this alley. Danny keeps a tight grip on Duke as they climb the front steps, silently asking for the building to let him stay while he’s with Danny. The door opens easily, which is as good as an agreement, and they’re inside without anything going wrong. The small entrance lobby is empty, with an area for packages filled with clearly magical artifacts carelessly wrapped in bubble wrap.

Danny drags them past that quickly, hoping Duke doesn’t notice, and calls the elevator down. It arrives silently, the doors opening to let another tenant out. Carefully, Danny positions himself in front of Duke, making sure he doesn’t see how the tenant, who nods at Danny, has a still bleeding wound in his stomach that has him nearly split in half.

“Alright,” he says, ushering Duke into the elevator, “Just a little ride up and then you can lay down.” He hits the button for the fourth floor and they ride up in silence, Duke dropping his head down to onto Danny’s shoulder again, wrapping his arms around his waist as he stands behind Danny. He’s glad Duke can’t see his face; there’s no doubt that he’s blushing like crazy and if that doesn’t give away his feelings, he doesn’t know what will.

Thankfully the elevator ride isn’t long. If Danny had to go for more than a minute with Duke breathing softly against his neck, his warm hands on his stomach, Danny would have collapsed into a pile of flustered goo.

He opens the door to his apartment and kicks his shoes off. Duke follows in suit, still plastered onto Danny’s back, refusing to let go.

“Come on,” Danny says, leading him to the couch, “Sit down and I’ll grad you some water and painkillers.”

Duke nods against his shoulder, then slowly detaches himself from Danny and makes his way to the couch. He drops onto it gracelessly, pressing his face into a cushion.

Danny winces. He must be feeling really bad. He knows how bad migraines can be with sleep deprivation, having suffered through high school with only a few hours of sleep at night, if he got to sleep at all. Frankly, it’s a testament to Duke’s strength that he lasted the entire walk to Danny’s apartment without complaint.

He returns to the living room with a full glass of water and a bottle of Advil, setting them on the coffee table to crouch next to the couch and place a cold hand on Duke’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly when Duke turns to look at him, “Is Advil alright? It’s all I had.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke sits up and shakes out three pills, then washes them down with water. He drains the rest of the cup quickly, then falls back against the couch with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”

Duke immediately reaches a hand out for him.

“Um?”

“Sit next to me. I feel better when I’m next to you.”

“Oh! Alright. Bet you’re only saying that because my hands are cold.”

“You caught me,” Duke laughs, pulling Danny onto the couch. He goes easily, tucking his legs beneath himself, and places his hands on Duke’s temples again. “Man, I owe you my life.”

“I don’t think my cold hands are worth quite that much.”

Duke hums, but doesn’t say anything else, so Danny settles in and focuses on keeping his hands a little colder than normal.

The apartment is quiet. No sound from outside can reach them, one of the few ways the building looks after its tenants. Danny and Duke fall against each other, at ease with each other. There’s no need to fill in the silence, and with Duke’s eyes closed, Danny doesn’t have to carefully shove down his feelings and act normal. He indulges in the warmth of Duke’s body pressed against his, a hand on his knee and an arm around his waist.

He keeps his hands as steady as possible as he looks over Duke, adoring all the little details he can see; a small scar on his chin, the fullness of his lips, the way his hair falls into his face now that it’s long enough to keep in braids.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Duke murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

You’re cute, he thinks, I feel safe with you. I want to kiss you. I wish I could be brave enough to be honest.

I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave.

“Nothing,” he says. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I might fall asleep though.”

“That’s fine. You know I would never say no to a nap.”

“Come here, then,” Duke says, and before Danny can do anything, Duke gets a stronger grip on his waist and pulls Danny down on top of him as he falls back towards the arm rest and gets his legs on the couch.

“Duke!”

Duke laughs underneath him, and Danny can feel it roll through him. Okay! This is definitely something he’s going to think about… forever. Wow, he can feel Duke’s abs tense up as he laughs, and has he always been ripped? Unfair. Also unfairly hot.

“Is this alright?” Duke asks, voice soft and quiet. There’s a hesitancy around his words that Danny doesn’t like hearing, and he brings his hands down to sweep his thumbs soothingly over Duke’s cheeks.

“Of course it is, man. I’d never refuse cuddles.”

“Okay. I’m gonna pass out now. Wake me in an hour?”

Danny moves his hands back up to his temples and says, “Sure. Get some rest, Duke. You really need it.”

He feels Duke relax beneath him, breaths slowing down as he begins to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet and Duke is warm in a way Danny never can be with his ice core. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but curled up on the couch with Duke in the safety of an apartment that only barely exists has him drifting off in no time at all.

. . .

(Duke wakes up before Danny. Their legs are tangled together and Duke has moved during his sleep, turning so Danny is held tightly to his chest, his back to the cushions, while Duke is balancing very carefully at the edge of the couch.

It’s been hours, and he should be heading home soon, but he stays as he is, enjoying this quiet moment for as long as he can have it. Danny is in his arms, safe and content with him, his head no longer hurts beyond a residual ache he can easily ignore, and he can admire how pretty Danny is without being worried about Danny catching his lingering stares.

These moments are precious to him, rare as they are, and he wants nothing more than to kiss Danny once he’s awake and let his feelings be known.

But the Signal has lots of dangerous people after him, and Gnomon has started causing problems in Gotham again. So he’ll bite his tongue and keep his less platonic feelings buried under lock and key until it’s safe enough for Danny to be around him more often.

And when that time comes, he can only hope that Danny will feel the same way.

That’s all far away from the stillness of Danny’s apartment. All that matters is that he has Danny in his arms. Everything else can wait.

For now, this is more than enough.)

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dpxdc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #once again unable to resist the urge to write abt living buildings #duke and danny are pining no stop bc they're both like 'this is a bad time for a relationship/i have to keep too many secrets' etc etc #while also cuddling and going on dates that they dont call dates out loud and sighing wistfully when they think of each other #taking what small things they can while trying to hide their feelings....#some other batfam member is going to stumble upon them in public and chat a bit w dukes friend #then walk away texting the group chat like 'hey duke and his friend are madly in love but too shy/stupid to do something abt it.#lets play cupid lol' and then theyre all trying to get duke and danny together #it gets to the point that every time they hang out it ends with them doing some nonsense to escape the batfam and their kind but unhinged #attempts to get them together #thanks for the prompt!!!

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