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dollwritesarchive · 1 year

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𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 — 𝐦𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐨

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ this is a dark fic! smut ( minors dni ), fem!nanami’s apprentice!reader, virgin!reader, noncon, anal, body morphing ( tentacles, two dicks + some inflation too ), double anal penetration, size kink, mindbreak, bad end, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ commissioned by @beebiesworld!! do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

“Well, you gave up earlier than I anticipated,” the Curse circled you, eyeing your frame up and down like a hungry animal, a wicked grin pulling his features taut, “Such a shame. I was enjoying chasing you around, the smell of your sweat was so sweet, and you seemed so frightened. Instead of fighting me, you tried to run away; are you sure you’re really a Jujutsu Sorcerer?”

there was a faint sound, the clanging of your daggers hitting the concrete ground at your feet, but it sounded so far away. what was really loud, however, was the beating of your heart. it thumped against your eardrums, it drowned out your panting.

how?

how had he caught up with you so fast?

you hold your hands up above your head in defeat, sheepish at just how he stared at your trembling fingers. you didn’t want him to notice them, but they would’ve been impossible to overlook. “I’m… still in training…”

he gasps with an excited grin and draws closer from behind, until the very shape of his lips forming the words against your ear shifts a tendril out of place, “I see, and does your mentor know you’re here?” you want to cower away from the softness of his voice— it was taunting and cruel, but it sounded so sweet.

you shake your head instead of answering him out loud, the lump growing in your throat making it hard to speak. to say that Nanami Kento didn’t know his pupil had wanted to impress him so badly that she skirted his rules and pursued a curse much too powerful and now she was utterly fucked with no way to call for help was too damning for your lips to bring the words to them.

“No?” both hands snake around to grasp at your arms in the air, and keep them there. your muscles all go taut; your blood freezing in your veins. you remembered what Nanami had said about this curse, and his ability to manipulate the body. would he destroy you this way? you close your eyes tight, and await an excruciating death. “He must be worried about you,” the curse croons against the shell of your ear, before puckering to plant a saccharine kiss on your lobe, his body pressing against yours from behind. “That 7:3 Sorcerer.” the way he spat it, like he was drooling acid into your ear, you knew he meant Nanami. he must still be miffed that your mentor had managed to escape him by pulling a cheap shot. lithe, dangerous digits that were cold to the touch drag along your forearms at a slow pace, and he chuckles. it sends a shiver up your spine. “You must know all about me, then. And our little game we played.”

swallowing hard against the lump blocking your throat, you nod, gathering the courage to speak, even as your voice trembled. “I know… I know how you disfigure innocent people. How you torture them… just by touching them…”

“Does that scare you?” he tilts his head, resting his chin against the crook of your neck, and his hands careen around your shoulders, towards your collarbone, “Knowing that I could pull you apart and put you together again, all wrong. I could disfigure you by force, and it would be so painful your mind just might shatter from the trauma—“ though he was threatening to mutilate you, his voice was lighthearted; playful, even. a new level of malicious that you’d never known before. you knew that he could feel the ferocity of your heartbeat, because his digit tips drummed over your chest in the same, frantic rhythm before they tug at your neckline, gentle and teasing, exposing the tops of your heaving breasts. “If I wanted to.” he pokes out his lower lip in a pensive pout, “But then I wouldn’t get to hear you scream, if I turned your brain to soup right away. I shouldn’t transfigure you, should I? I should keep you together, at least long enough to have my fun…”

don’t be a coward. you wanted to tell yourself this over and over, but it was so much easier said than done. he was considering how to torture you as easily as one might consider their options for dinner. “Why are you toying with me?” your hands clench into fists, falling down at your sides once your arms started to ache, “Stop talking about it, already… if you’re going to kill me, just… do it.”

“Kill?” he sounded genuinely puzzled, and that worried you. “Did I ever say kill? I don’t want to kill you, little sorcerer.” you can feel him moving, even as he’s pressed against you, his feet slipping in between yours, kicking them apart until your legs are spread wide, and something— no, two somethings inching up under your pant legs. they felt like twin serpents, forcing their way through the threading until your bottoms were hanging in tatters against your exposed legs. “I want to ruin you.”

your eyes widen, and your gaze drops to your legs— those tentacles were the same shade of ivory that he was, and they were wrapping themselves around the hem of your panties, like fists ready to jerk them down.

you react, but not fast enough. trying to launch yourself forward, both hands flail to shove at the curse, but he’s coiled two more of those strong, thick cords around your torso, cinching your arms in their constriction. the vice knocks the breath out of you, and you would’ve fallen forward had his many extremities not tangled you up— the very tips of them form fingers, one by one, morphing into stitched hands identical to his original ones, and pull at your clothes, jerking your panties halfway down your thighs. as soon as your sex is met with the cold, damp air of the underground, he inhales deep; smelling you. “Ahhh,” he moans, and the tentacles coiled around your midriff begin to pry at your top, pulling it down, “I can’t wait to destroy you!”

your legs tremor, fighting against the inhuman strength of his organic bondage to try and close, to minimize your exploit, but you’re no match for him, not wrapped up like this. you kick your feet, and scream to be let go. but he giggles, watching you fight for your life, and lose. all the while, those many hands of his grope at you, squeezing and kneading your breasts, long fingers running laps between your folds, coaxing your sex to weep, unwillingly.

“Stop—!” you cry out, writhing hopelessly,

“Why? It seems like you like it, your little cunt is wet!”

but you couldn’t bite back the hapless whining that left your lips fast enough, surprised by the stinging sensation when a middle finger and thumb flick at your sensitive clit. “So swollen already,” he laughs, twisting you around to face him. you see now, as you’re hoisted off the ground, that those tentacles ripped his shirt so severely that it’d slipped from his body completely, leaving his rippled torso bare. he was incredibly muscular, and you hadn’t noticed until now, with his silvery tresses hanging over one shoulder, tickling his navel. the feelers winding up and down your legs spread them further into a wide split, opening you up completely, and you wince. you’d trained plenty, physical feats, but you’d never had your muscles forced this tight. “You must be a virgin, you’re so sensitive.” he hums as he steps closer, his clothed groin pressing flush against your most sensitive portion. you can feel a thick tent, hard and pulsating, just beyond the fabric, attempting to push through and get to your sex, and you mewl, shaking your head, mostly to yourself. “I almost can’t believe that 7:3 Sorcerer didn’t fuck you himself, what with how cute this pussy looks when she’s wet. He hasn’t even seen it, has he? I wonder if he wants to?”

both of his hands reach down, pressing his thumbs against your netherlips, and spreads them apart to expose your maiden entrance, his dual-hued gaze sparkling with wicked delight when you whimper a pathetic, ‘No…’ and shut your eyes tight. it wasn’t an answer to his question ( which seemed to be more of a musing than a true inquiry ), but a protest to his touch. you didn’t have to say out loud that Nanami didn’t see you in that light; he was your teacher. you looked up to him, you saw him as a second father. he wouldn’t think like that. not like this monster.

would he?

you feel pressure, unlike svelte fingers, prodding at your sex. your eyelids snap open and you stare down the sea of slithering tentacles in horror. his hands hadn’t moved, your folds still pulled back, but Mahito has rid himself of his pants and, thus, freed a thick, hard cock from its prison. with just a subtle jut of his hips, he’s able to press the bulbous head against your hole. you clench in response, trying to close completely, but his teasing is just powerful enough to stretch you back open. “Hhhnnnn,” Mahito moans, his tongue darting out to swipe along his lips, “Keep clenching, keep trying to keep me out— it makes me want to hurt you.” one of the hands growing from his many appendages reaches up to caress your cheek, which you promptly turn away from. “You’ll only scream louder when I stuff you full of three, big cocks and make that cute, little hole gape for me.”

three.

you tried not to think about that, but there was no denying the creature before you was demonic enough to conjure and do just what he threatened.

“Nanami… he’ll… come to save me…” you insist, squirming. it was a pathetic attempt to instill fear into the curse— try to scare him with what your mentor might do to him if he follows through with his demented plan.

“I hope so!” Mahito chimes, “I hope he’s on his way right now.” with one hand grasping himself at his base, he drags the engorged tip of his cock between your lips, purposefully bumping your vulnerable clit, and watches you bite your cheek to stifle a breathy sound. “He knows where to find us, and you’ll be broken in long before he makes it here, it’ll be so fun to watch him realize just how helpless I’ve made you. Now, I’ve got a tough decision to make,” thoughtful, Mahito tilts his head to one side, and then the other. you open your eyes, reluctantly, and stare down at his cock, rubbing between your folds. he catches you staring and smiles wickedly, wide, “This tight, little pussy… or…” one more swipe, and this time, his tip pressed against your hole and you braced yourself— were about to be invaded for the first time.

for only a fraction of a second.

before he pushes down on his base, sliding his tool just below your sex; it was slick and shiny with your arousal. the thick head sits flush against your anus, and you haven’t the time to protest, though you suck in a flustered breath to do so, before he plunges inside.

a jolt of pain wracks you, and you cry out, voice breaking, when he forces his way into your canal. he was merciless, instantaneous in falling into a brutal, deep rhythm. you were wincing, one eye closed right whilst the other glared daggers up at him, snorting heavy breaths through your nostrils. sealing your tiers muffled painful whimpers, but your toes still curled, your fists still tightened, in protest.

Mahito swoons, seeing how much you hate having him in your guts, and it only spurs him to fuck you harder— deeper. “Yes! That greedy, wet cunt of yours can wait; it’s much more fun stretching you out this way instead,” he’s purring, lids weighing heavily on his duo-toned eyes, “you look so cute, right now, in so much pain. My cock’s just too big for that virgin asshole of yours, isn’t it?” you nod. you knew he wouldn’t care. hell, maybe he would even find amusement in it and fuck you harder just to inflict more pain, but you answer anyways.

helpless.

pathetic.

both hands clasp against your waist, digging his thumbs against your belly to jerk you back to him each time your body lurched from the power of his thrusts. the intensity, the incessant force behind his cock barreling into your insides was all but maddening. he was right. he was too big for you, he was too rough for you. your body was struggling to keep up with all of the sensation and it overloaded your system. that must’ve been the reason you clenched around air, the reason you felt your stomach bunch up in pleasured knots. right?

you could hear the sound— your sex was dripping down over your ass cheeks, and each time the curse drove himself home, his balls smacked against them, sticking just enough to emit a sickening slap. over and over.

Mahito was panting, but you could tell he wasn’t winded because his velocity never even faltered. he pounded you relentlessly, and squeezed your waist so furious that you could swear he was about to fold you in half at the midriff, his thumbs digging into the squishy flesh. “Still a little vice,” he whined, mostly to himself, “I wanted to get another cock in you, but no matter how hard I drill you to stretch this fuckhole out enough, you still grip like crazy. Heh, let’s see if we can fix that, eh?”

“N—no—!” shaking your head, as fervent as you could muster having been fucked halfway into submission, you mewl out in protest. another cock? your stomach flipped. your body couldn’t even handle this one; surely you would split open if forced to take any more. your opposition fell on utterly deaf ears, because it wasn’t even a full moment later that you felt yourself stretch. “S—stop!” clawing at your own fists, you thrash in the tentacles’ grip; at first, it felt like he was prying you open, your battered ring yielding helplessly to the extraction, but then you could feel it on the inside. your walls were stretching. desperate to accommodate the slow-growing bulge you could see peeking against your belly button. he was inflating himself whilst balls deep in your belly, giving you no choice but to extend around him.

“There we go,” Mahito let out a breathy sigh, but never once let slowed the pistoning of his hips. he was determined to hollow you out completely, “open up, cutie. If you don’t, I might just fuck a hole right through you.”

you’d never felt so full before, and you couldn’t imagine anyone had. your body was stretched, your stomach distended in an unnatural bulge that moved, back and forth, with each merciless hip snap. you could feel every inch, thicker than humanly possible, as they pummeled your rectum. you couldn’t enjoy this. not this pain, not this cruelty.

but your pussy was still wet.

was it the never ending fucking, the constant stabbing at every, intimate nerve inside that was numbing your mind? or had you always been destined to enjoy such depravity?

no, it had to be him.

Mahito was fucking the urge to resist right out of you. with each buck of his hips, each time his balls smashed against you, you were losing a part of your brain. the will to fight back had all but dissipated. as did your hatred of the pain he inflicted.

“N— Naa—nami—“ repeating his name under your breath was the only thing keeping your brain from melting away. forcing yourself to remember that your mentor would come for you. he would save you. if you simply held on to your sanity. “H—help— me—“

“Hmm?” Mahito crooned, his tempo changing drastically for once. he was still incredibly deep, but his thrusts were torturous and slow, coaxing weakened whimpers from your lips each time he pressed his abdomen to yours, as flush to you, as deep in your ass that he could go. “You still remember that 7:3 Sorcerer’s name? Even after I’ve stuffed you to your limit?” he didn’t sound at all disappointed. he sounded… impressed. “Fine, I’ll just have to fuck you until your brain turns to mush.” grinning ear to ear, Mahito releases your stomach, leaving one hand tight on your waist, but the other flees to his groin, gripping the base of a brand new cock growing out from his pelvis. perfectly planted just above his original member, this new appendage is already throbbing and erect when it sprouts, drizzling precum over its twin and your abused hole. “You won’t even remember your own name when I shove this one inside of you. Watch!”

he was so fucking right.

your ring protested taking another, girthy intruder, but he was too strong and, in the end, your body had to give in. worming its way inside, the new cock rubs against the other, coaxing a vulgar moan from your assailant, but you didn’t hear it. this new, impossible feeling had hit a switch in your brain. both dicks bulged in your belly, pressing hard against the sensitive wall protecting your g-spot, scrubbing rough, pulsating veins against the nerves. the two sexes were roughly the same length, jabbing deep in your belly, and when he pulled back, and both withdrew before slamming home, you saw stars behind your eyelids as your head dropped back and you yowled.

Mahito must’ve had an amazing memory, because that very same fierce speed and depth returned to his rocking hips in no time, even as you hang— limp and suspended by those extremities. your mouth was agape, so your moans flowed free, but you couldn’t form any real words. you couldn’t cry for help anymore. your eyes rolled around behind twitching lids.

you didn’t remember Nanami’s name.

you didn’t remember your own.

and you couldn’t care. you couldn’t think.

his cocks seemed to be working in tandem, reaching every sensitive cluster of nerves that you had and punching them over and over, an orchestrated attack to shatter your mind. and it was working.

you felt utterly claimed, decimated. his cocks had invaded you, dominated you, broken you. and deep down you knew that, even if someone did rescue your beaten body from this devil before he crumbled it, your brain was long beyond salvation.

“Poor thing,” Mahito moaned, using his now free hand to press down against the dueling protrusions in your belly, but you only squealed louder when he did so, “you’ll never be the same after this, you know? You’ll never recover from me, and we’re not even close to being finished. This is only your ass, cutie, I’ve still got to conquer that little cunt of yours. I wonder if you’ll even hang on long enough for that, or if your body will simply give out.” but, it didn’t matter to him, not really. you knew that he wouldn’t care if you were mangled beyond repair; he’d said himself, he wanted to break you. “No,” he said, finally, within a whiny, ecstasy filled moan, and grasped your face. squeezing your cheeks together hard, he forced your chin into your chest, and kept your visage angled towards him. he didn’t care if you couldn’t see through your glassy eyes, or that you were drooling all over yourself, he cooed at the sight of your loss against him, “I’ll make sure you stay with me, at least long enough to be the prettiest, sloppiest bait for that 7:3 Sorcerer.”

he could hear you.

Nanami could hear you, panting, crying, but as he called your name, he got no response. he repeated it over and over, stampeding the corridors, following the helpless sounds of his pupil. please be okay. he didn’t say it out loud, and he didn’t have to. he was the only one there to hear it.

should he have asked for back up? of course. but, Nanami couldn’t wait for anyone else to come to the rescue, and he had a gnawing fear in his gut that he was already too late.

if Mahito had already gotten to you, then he was getting closer and closer to discovering that you had been transfigured, and he would have to put you out of your misery, and he wasn’t even sure he could do that.

his heart was racing, but as he turned the corner, he saw a crumpled figure on the ground just a short sprint away— it was you, he could tell, but he couldn’t make out much more. he barked your name, hoping to grasp your attention as he approached, but when the visage of you finally cleared, his blood ran icy in his veins.

you were on your knees, completely nude, and yet you were slumped forward with your face against the ground, cheek smushed and distorting your expression, forcing one eye closed. the other was half opened— you looked drowsy. but your thighs quivered. his gaze was immediately drawn to them, and he drew in a harsh breath.

one of your hands worked diligently between your hips, your middle two fingers thrusting deep inside of yourself. with each probe, sticky white dribbles out of your cunt and over your hand and wrist. it’s the same as the substance that oozes from your butthole as it spasms. it must’ve also matched the cocktail of cum and spit smeared across your features, and splattered on your ass cheeks and thighs. you were a complete mess, and you didn’t even seem to care.

you hardly even noticed Nanami when he approached you, still fingering yourself, gurgling moaning, your eyelids flittering. “What…” Nanami’s brows knit together, his teeth grind. “What happened to you?“ he asked, but he was already relatively certain that you wouldn’t be able to answer him. mortified, he steps closer, kneeling down with his arms extended, sleeves rolled up and ready to scoop you into his arms. “I’m going to get you out of here—“

“C—cock—“ you whimper, tongue hanging out of your mouth, and Nanami freezes. “P—please… give me… cock… fuck me… use me… h—hurt me… fff— fuck me, p—please…” sharp eyes widening ever so slightly behind his spectacles, he sews his jaw shut right when he hears that damned familiar giggling from behind him.

Mahito had appeared there, clasping his hands together with glee. “I hope you won’t be too mad at me, but I borrowed your little toy here.” he exclaims, gesturing towards the mess of what’s left of you.

when you hear his voice, you shake harder, fucking yourself more fervently with both fingers, and whimpering, “Please… please… fuck me… fuck me… fuck…”

“The only problem is,” Mahito smirks, a devious twinkle in his eye when Nanami turns around, “I think I broke her.”

#mahito x you #mahito #mahito x reader #dark!mahito #mahito smut #mahito imagine #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut

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straykeedz · 8 months

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day 8: i.n. + exhibitionism

©straykeedz

tw: female anatomy; voyeurism; praising; clit play; nipple play; panties sniffing & cum tasting (if that’s even a thing); fingering (f receiving); unprotected piv sex (don’t do that at home 🤨); a little bit of squirting; creampie;

wc: 2,5k

honestly, this is pure fucking filth lol and also, the first smut for kinktober i wrote 🫣 i wrote this in one sitting back in september, i don’t know what came over me i’m genuinely sorry!!!

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡ ♡

to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

⛔︎

“Good girl.” Jeongin praises you, whispering those words in your ear as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, feeling flustered and exposed. “Letting me play with this pussy right in front of my band members…”, he trails, his long fingers brushing over your clothed clit.

You’re sitting on the couch, your back pressing against Jeongin’s firm chest - he has one arm around your waist to keep you still, to prevent you from squirming too much as he teases you with his fingers. How you ended up being here - in only your tank top and underwear, sprawled on the soft cushions while all of Jeongin’s band mates are witnessing the scene, you don’t remember.

“You’re so good to me, jagiya.” Jeongin whispers, placing a soft kiss on top of your head as he lands a delicate, playful slap right on your clit - the thin barrier of your panties is the only thing that keeps you from feeling his touch directly on your skin. “Do you like it?”, he asks, and it catches you off guard.

You nod, letting out a whimper, hoping it would be enough of an answer. It isn’t.

“I’m gonna need words, jagiya.” Jeongin chuckles. “I asked - do you like it? Do you like having seven men watching you as I’m about to finger this pretty pussy?”, he growls.

You nod vehemently, gripping his shirt tighter as you whisper a faint “Yes.”

“Mh, what was that?” Jeongin teases. Asshole. “Did you guys hear anything?”, he snaps his head to his bandmates - all of their eyes are set on you, faces red, mouths agape. A couple of them shake their head as a no, the others stay completely still.

“I didn’t hear anything.” Hyunjin says, boldly.

“See, jagi? They didn’t hear you.” Jeongin slips his hand, the one that’s not on your pussy, under your tank top, and cups one of your breasts. You let out a shaky breath when he squeezes your nipple between the pads of his fingers. “Speak up.”, he demands. “Speak up or I won’t let you cum tonight.”, he threatens.

“I do!”, you yelp - your arousal has already soaked your panties entirely by now, a wet patch clearly visible, making a couple of the boys - you don’t know who - whine at the sight.

“Do what?”, he smirks, drawing circular shapes on your clothed clit.

“I like being watched by your bandmates while you play with my pussy.”, you whimper.

“Good girl.”, another kiss on your forehead, and you finally feel him hook his fingers under the hem of your panties.

He begins to slowly pull your underwear down your legs, and you help him by wiggling your ass in order to let him slide them off, leaving you completely exposed to his friends. He brings your panties closer to his nose, sniffing them, and licks his lips once the familiar scent fills his nostrils. For a good couple of seconds, he considers licking your arousal clean from the fabric, but then a better idea pops up in his mind, and he snaps his head up in the direction of his bandmates.

“Do you want to?”, he asks his friends, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. Every single one of his friends looks at him with wide eyes - shocked, and none of them dares to answer, not sure whether it’s a trap or not. “What do you think, baby girl?” Jeongin’s voice vibrates in his chest. “Do you want the boys to sniff you? Sniff your pretty pussy?”

You nod weakly. The thought embarrasses you, but yes - you want them to. “Yes.”

“My good girl.” Jeongin chuckles, toying with the panties in his hand. “You’re so filthy, I fucking love you.”

“I love you too.”, you snap your head up to capture his lips in a kiss. You feel him smirk into the kiss, tongue brushing against your lower lip. He pulls away only to throw your panties at his friends, chuckling once he sees his friends practically fighting for that piece of fabric.

Chan moans once he gets to sniff your delicious scent, biting on his lower lip. “Do you want to taste her, hyung?” Jeongin catches him off guard. He looks at his younger friend with his eyes open wide. It sounds so dirty, so… forbidden, to taste the arousal of his younger friend’s girlfriend from her underwear. “C’mon, taste how sweet she is.” Jeongin encourages him, as his hand returns to where it previously was - on your pussy, this time no layer separating your skins, and you moan at the contact, a few eyes snapping in your direction.

Your eyes shift to Chan just as he’s collecting some of your arousal from your underwear with the pads of his fingers, which he then brings to his mouth, getting a taste of you, and you can feel yourself getting even wetter, a whimper escaping your parted lips once Chan hums, shutting his eyes closed.

“Does it turn you on, jagiya?” Jeongin chuckles, collecting some of your arousal with the tips of his fingers. “Seeing Chan-hyung so whipped after getting a taste of your pretty pussy?”

You nod eagerly. “Turns me on so much.”, you whimper.

You don’t miss the way Chan blushes - the tips of his ears turning red as he shamefully swallows your arousal. “Yah, leave something for us!” Changbin protests as he snatches the piece of fabric from his hyung’s hands.

“Guys…” Jeongin calls, making all of the boys look at him. “Don’t you think you should thank y/n for being so kind and for letting you sniff and taste her off of her panties?”, he chuckles, teasing his bandmates as his fingers keep circling your clit.

The seven boys all mutter a thank you y/n under their breath, a few of them red in the face, clearly embarrassed of being exposed like that, but you know Jeongin’s having fun teasing his friends. Your evil boyfriend suddenly decides to unexpectedly shove two of his fingers in your pussy and pinch your nipple with his other fingers, which results in you letting out an obscene moan that draws the attention of the boys on you - mouths agape and big doe eyes now focused on you, not even paying attention to the piece of fabric that’s now in Felix’s hands.

“Good girl, moaning for me…” Jeongin praises you, massaging your breasts. “Letting me know how good I make you feel.”, he bents his fingers inside of you, the pads brushing against your g-spot, making you arch your back as you let out an incoherent series of whimpers.

“Oh, my God.”, you can hear Changbin whine, incapable of tearing his eyes off of you, palming his hard-on over his sweats - all of them are, to be fair.

“She seems to like that.” Seungmin points out when you let out another moan, biting on his lower lip - sliding one hand inside his pants to touch himself. It’s kind of hot knowing that it’s because of you that they’re all so eager and desperate.

“Oh, she loves it.” Jeongin confirms, the palm of his hand laying flat on your clit - he knows how desperate you can get if he doesn’t play with it directly, but at the same time he really loves seeing you squirm.

“She takes fingers so well…” Minho says, eyes right where Jeongin’s fingers enter your pussy, soaking them in your wetness.

A series of hums of approval follows Minho’s statement, Chan licks his lips at the squelching sound of Jeongin’s fingers moving inside of you. “Does she take cock that well, too?”, the oldest blurts out before he can stop himself.

Jeongin looks his hyung in the eyes, then smirks. “Wanna find out?”, he asks, catching you and his bandmates completely off-guard. Then, he asks you: “What do you say, jagiya?”, he places a wet kiss on your neck. “Wanna let the boys see how beautiful you look with a fat cock stuffed inside of you?”

Those words - combined with Jeongin’s fingers gently scraping your sweet spot - almost make you cum on the spot, so you nod. “Yes.”, you whimper.

Jeongin lets out a satisfied chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine, removing his hand from under your top. “Then lift those beautiful hips up.”, he requests, and you think he’s going to retrieve his fingers from inside of you. He doesn’t. They stay exactly where they are - stuffed inside your pussy, as you hear him fidget with the hem of his sweats, pulling them down so that his cock can spring free, landing on his abdomen with a loud slap.

“Good girl, now sit on my cock.” Jeongin demands, and you feel his fingers slip out of your hole - you whine at the loss, feeling empty. He brings his fingers, coated in your arousal, on his cock - lubing the tip with your juices so that it won’t burn when he puts it inside.

You do as he asked, positioning yourself right on his length, back facing him - he wants the guys to stare at you and he wants you to look at them as he makes you cum on his cock.

“Spread those legs wide, jagi, we want them to see, remember?” Jeongin instructs.

You don’t miss the way the guys groan when you finally start sinking onto their friend’s length, the tip of his cock parting your folds so beautifully, then filling you up to the brim, back pressed against Jeongin’s chest. You’re trying your best not to moan as well, but a couple of whimpers fall from your lips nonetheless as he fills you up so good - he does every time.

“That’s it.” Jeongin presses a soft kiss on the nape of your neck. “Good girl, spreading her legs wide as she sits on my cock, letting seven men watch how I split this pretty pussy open with my cock.”, one of his hands reaches the hem of your top, beginning to pull it up to free your breasts - exposing your naked boobs to the rest of the guys.

“Now fuck yourself on my cock, love.” Jeongin instructs, pinching your nipple with his thumb and index finger. “Show them how much of a good girl you are.”, he growls in your ear.

You do exactly as he said, lifting your hips and then sinking back onto his length - slowly at first, then a bit faster when Jeongin asks you to. He has one arm around your waist to keep you in place and help you with your movements, making sure his cock wouldn’t accidentally slip out every time you lift your hips.

“So, Chan-hyung, what do you say?” Jeongin directs the question to his older friend, voice a bit shaky. “Does she take cock well?”, he smirks.

Now at least half of the guys have their hand slipped under the waistband of their pants and are stroking themselves as they watch their youngest friend fuck his girlfriend on their couch - a sight none of them will ever be able to forget.

“So well.” Chan whines, stroking his own cock, his veiny hand disappearing into his underwear, fingers wrapped around the thick base of his length - eyes on you. Each of them has their eyes on you - whether it’s your boobs, your swollen pussy or your fucked out expression, none of them is able to tear their eyes off of you.

“As good as you imagined?”

“Better.” Chan shamefully answers.

The thrill of doing something so dirty, unconventional and somehow forbidden has your orgasm build up faster than you expected, and you can already feel the familiar know in your stomach. Jeongin too can feel you’re close by the way your walls are squeezing him so tight he almost can’t move inside of you.

“Is my jagiya close already?”, he teases, and you can feel his fingers gently brushing against the skin of one of your thighs, closer and closer to where you need him. “Does my jagiya want to cum?”

“Yes, please.”, you beg - cheeks heating up as your toes begin to curl.

He places two fingers directly on your clit, making sure to coat them in your arousal before actually touching you - you absolutely love how attentive he is towards you, even outside the bedroom. He starts moving his fingers in a circular motion, placing a series of soft kisses on your bare shoulders at the same time.

You clench even harder, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “You’re about to cum, jagiya?”, he pants, feeling his own orgasm starting to build up as well. “You’re gonna be a good girl and let the boys see how hot you look when you cum for me?”, he moves his finger faster, cock hitting your g-spot just right, and it’s like he wants you to -

“Then cum.”, he growls in your ear.

As soon as those words fall from his lips, you find yourself releasing much harder than you thought - some of your release spilling out of you, coating both Jeongin’s thighs, some of it landing on the cushions, but none of the boys gives a fuck about it.

“Oh, God.”, you hear Jisung whine, eyes open wide and mouth agape - the movements of his hand come to an abrupt halt, and soon after you notice a darker patch on his grey sweats, right above his crotch. You giggle in realization that you made him cum in his pants - poor boy wasn’t even touching himself. “She can squirt?”, he asks Jeongin, still shocked by the sight he just witnessed.

You hear Jeongin chuckle from behind you, removing his fingers from your clit not to overstimulate you, tho he keeps thrusting his cock inside of you, desperate to reach his high as well. You can feel he’s about to shoot his load, so you decide to send him over the edge.

“Cum, baby.”, you whine, turning your head so that your lips are now brushing against his. “Don’t you want your friends to see how good you fill me up?”, you purr, smirking when you see him shut his eyes closed, suddenly on the verge of his own orgasm. “Don’t you want them to see your cum drip out of my pussy?”

That does it for him. With a hoarse grunt, he empties himself inside of you, hot spurts of his seed shooting deep inside your hole as he slows down his thrusts, panting heavily - a few drops of his cum already leaking from your pussy and dripping onto his length. He rests his forehead against the nape of your neck - black hair stuck on his sweaty skin, legs still shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. He places a soft kiss on the bare skin of your shoulder, holding you tight as he carefully removes his softening cock from inside of you - allowing his friends to witness the mess he made, cum leaking all over his thighs and the couch cushions, but none of them seems to mind, too focused on seeing how your pussy pushes the rest of his cum out.

Jeongin snaps his head in the direction of his friends, smirking as he places a soft, heartfelt kiss on your cheek.

“I really hit the jackpot with her, didn’t I?”

⛔︎

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whosscruffylooking · 1 year

Text

The Beginning of Us (Joel Miller x Fem! Reader)

A/N: Good laaawwd, it’s been about 2 years since I posted anything on here. Ofc it would be Mr. PEDRO PASCAL that would bring me out of retirement though...I’m really hoping to turn this into a consistent series so please give feedback and lmk what you think, I’m still a little rusty on the ol’ writing thing.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None. It’s very PG I think.

Word Count: 1.6k

»»————-　♡　————-««

*September 26, 2003*

The soft, white-gold hues of the morning light break through the curtains, warming you up just enough to wake you from your slumber. You reach your hand out from underneath the fabric of the sheets and attempt to rub the sleepiness from your eyes. The memories of last night play through your mind like a movie, goosebumps forming on your skin where the whispers of his fingertips haunt you.

Yawning, you stretch your body to relieve some of the soreness forming below your waist. You glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table before quickly settling back onto your side, the curve of your body fitting faultlessly into the shape of his. You can discern that he too is awake, but neither one of you will acknowledge the other, wanting to savor the moment just a little while longer. Occasionally, he squeezes you softly as if he needed to remind himself that you were real; that THE y/n was lying in his bed and his arms.

"Please don't go," his husky voice pleads gently, linking his hand in yours and drawing you to him face-to-face. Your eyes meet his wonder-filled gaze. The sun's rays make his brown eyes look...almost golden. His hair is messy, the result of your fingers being tangled in his soft curls the night before.

You repress the shiver fighting its way down your spine, "Stop looking at me like that."

He shakes his head, "I can't."

"Try harder."

"Then stop being so beautiful," he whispers, reaching his hand across your hips and tugging you up against him. You gasp slightly at just how perfectly every part of you fits with his.

Quickly you hide your face in your hands, sensing your cheeks starting to glow red. His thumb paints little loops on your thigh and you can feel the heat increasing in your stomach as he speaks, "Let me look at you."

You part your fingers slightly, giving him only a glimpse of your y/e/c eyes. He groans, "Fine...looks like I need to take matters into my own hands."

Propping himself up on his elbow, he pinches the sheets, the thin, cotton layer covering your bare skin. Slowly, he pulls the covers back and you watch as his eyes study you; similar to last night when he'd gradually unveiled you, inch by inch, body, and soul, before taking his time revealing just how exquisite he feels you are.

"Don't go," he repeats himself as he begins caressing every curve of your body.

Breathlessly you whisper his name, "Joel..."

"Come on, it's my birthday. And having some more of this," he spanks you softly, "Would be my wish come true."

"Come here," you pull him back down next to you, "Maybe just a few more minutes. But, I can't be here when Sarah wakes up." Joel encases you in his arms and you rest your head on his chest.

"How did this happen?" You giggle.

"You seduced me okay?" He jokes. "I remember it quite differently," you whisper in between peppering light kisses on his chest.

"Just trying to be neighborly," he places a playful squeeze on your hip.

"Well," you twirl his hair in your fingers, "However it happened, I hope it happens again." Before you can pull away too far, he captures your lips with his. His kiss intoxicates you and lights a burning desire within you to pick up where you both left off last night. Swiftly, he guides your body underneath his and growls against your skin, "Then let's make it happen again."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Walking up the driveway to the front door of the Miller's house, your mind wanders to the events of the night before.

The desperate shedding of clothing, the frantic grasps at each other's skin, the sensations neither of you knew you were capable of feeling, the echoes of you crying out each other's names.

"Should I be concerned?" A voice shakes you out of your daydream. You turn to see Tommy hanging out of the window of his truck. He points at you and you realize you're standing in the middle of the driveway, blocking his path to the garage.

As he gets out of his truck he invites you to follow him inside, "Come on in, but if I see you staring at my brother's house in a daze one more time...I'm gonna be real concerned." "Sorry Tommy, just lost in thought I guess," you mentally kick yourself. "Hey," he stops you briefly, "Have you heard from Joel? I kept tryna call him last night, but he never answered."

He didn't answer? That's so unlike Joel, I wonder wha-oh...right.

"I'm sure he was busy sulking over the fact that he's one year closer to receiving his AARP membership in the mail," you gloss over the issue.

Following Tommy inside, you struggle to fight back the hurricane of thoughts running rampant in your mind. Was last night a mistake? What if he regrets everything? What will happen if Sarah finds out? Will she and Tommy be able to tell something happened between the two of you?

"Well come on y/n, you're acting like you're in a stranger's house," Tommy drags you into the kitchen.

"Y/N!" Sarah squeals as she rushes to hug you. Sitting down at the kitchen table, you thank Tommy and Sarah as they bring you some food and a glass of water. Biting your lip, you focus your eyes everywhere but on Joel, terrified that just by looking in his direction, your body language will scream "I WAS JUST TANGLED UP IN JOEL'S SHEETS AN HOUR AGO!"

He inches closer to you, a hand resting inconspicuously on your thigh, "Hey, I'm so happy you're here." Almost instantly, your breathing relaxes and your hesitant look softens into the same smile you shared with Joel earlier that morning. You shiver slightly as your muscles unwind slowly but surely. That safety you felt in his arms is still there even at the slightest touch of his hand.

Joel and Tommy go back and forth about the day's job while you and Sarah talk about what's on the agenda for her classes. "We'll work a double," you hear Joel tell Tommy.

"Really? Today?" You and Sarah say in unison.

"I know, I know. We'll be done though by nine and I'll be right back home to celebrate with you," he caresses Sarah's hair. She looks over at you and then back to her father, "With us?" Joel's cheeks indicate the slightest hint of pink as he fights back his smirk, causing you to do the same. You quickly stuff your face with eggs in an attempt to hide your mirrored reaction. "Only if y/n is up for it," he responds to Sarah. She grabs your hand and begs you, "Oh please come over later it will be so much fun, and I know dad reaaaalllyyy wants you to be there." You watch intently as she slowly glances back at him and gives him a not-so-subtle wink.

"I guess I can fit you guys into my VERY busy schedule," you kick Joel under the table.

Tommy clears his throat, "I don't know. Seems like Joel here is the one with the busy schedule. Why weren't you answering my calls last night? Out on the town?"

Sarah stands up to clear the table, "What are you talking about Uncle Tommy? He was in his room all night."

Tommy straightens up and looks suspiciously between the two of you.

Damn it. That didn't take long.

Your eyes widen as you signal Joel to change the subject.

"Uh-Jakarta...hear that on the radio? Where's that, the Middle East?"

Sighing in relief, you reply to him before Tommy gets the chance to change the subject back to the more incriminating one, "It's the capital of Indonesia."

Joel checks the time on his bare, watch-less wrist.

Sarah told you a few days ago about her plan to get his broken watch fixed, so you gave her the money to go take it to a repair shop in the city after school.

"Finish up quick and say goodbye to y/n, we'll drop you off at school," he announces.

"I'm still finishing my eggshells," Sarah says sarcastically. Chuckling you turn around in your chair to look at Joel, "I can drop her off, it's on the way to work for me." "You sure?" He smiles. You grin at him and nod.

Sarah clears her throat and shouts to Joel, "Your shirts inside out." That grin of yours quickly fades. Joel chokes on the remainder of his coffee. Tommy pats his brother on the back, cheekily smiling at Sarah, who's mischievously smiling at you. They both chuckle, watching intently at you and Joel's telling eye contact.

"Just call us Sherlock Holmes and Watson," Tommy gives Sarah a high five. "I'm Sherlock though," she clarifies.

Abruptly you stand up and say your goodbyes, "Well I am gonna go start up the car. Sarah? Come over when you're ready. Bye, Tommy. Bye-" You can't even finish your sentence without Tommy's snickering getting the best of you.

Joel hurriedly follows you outside, "Wait up!" Turning to him and staring intently at him you notice how his eyes are doing all the talking, not wanting the others to hear. They tell of security, that you both will be okay, and that this is the start of something very good. Yet, there's something else there that causes you to tilt your head in curiosity. "What is it?" You give in. "However it happened," he begins, "I want it to happen again," he quotes your words from earlier.

With a half-smile and a newfound warmth in your heart you nod, "It will happen again. I promise you."

#the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x y/n #the last of us imagine

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marvelmusing · 1 year

Text

Keep Your Judgement

Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: The day of the attack has arrived and you stand by Aleksander’s side as you bring about the end of the Lantsov dynasty.

Warnings: brief mentions of sex, canon level violence.

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

The little glass vials clink together as you open up the drawer of the cabinet which stands behind Vladim’s desk. Rummaging through the contents, it doesn’t take you long to find what you need.

Even without looking, the moment Aleksander steps into the workshop, you can sense his presence. Turning to meet his gaze, the smile lingering on your lips widens as soon as your eyes lock on his.

The fox preens rather boastfully amongst your memories of last night, but his smugness is rather justified, so you leave him to gather your favourite moments together.

Aleksander’s gaze darkens as he takes in what you’re wearing. The black kefta he had commissioned for you. Today is the first time you’ve worn it. A thrill runs through you as he stares with parted lips, advancing towards you smoothly.

Warmth spreads over your cheeks as you turn to close the drawer, having retrieved vial of contraceptive for you to take.

Aleksander curls his arms around your waist, pressing your back firmly against his chest as he dips his head down to nuzzle his nose against your flushed cheek.

“No matter what happens today,” he murmurs lowly beside your ear. “I’m yours.”

The thought of him wanting to reassure you in this manner, knowing that you intend to confront Alina today, has your expression softening even further. Turning your head aside, your face ends up inches from his own.

“Will you promise me something?” you whisper quietly.

He nods, holding your gaze intently.

“I understand that using the nichevo’ya to take out the monarchy is necessary, but after that… would you promise not to use merzost again unless there is no other option?”

He stiffens slightly and you can feel him beginning to move away as he states,

“You are afraid of me.”

Stepping closer to him, you remove the distance between your bodies as you shake your head.

“I’m afraid for you Aleksander.” He remains still, his retreat halted by your words, and something is glimmering in his eyes as he stares down at you. “If my theory is wrong we may need more time, and that’s something I’m scared you’re running out of.”

At that, he draws you further into his arms and you press your cheek against his chest. His heartbeat jerks occasionally and you wonder how he can withstand such pain on a daily basis. Meanwhile, Aleksander trails his hand down your back soothingly whilst the other traces over the purple and black embroidery on your shoulder.

“I promise,” he murmurs against the crown of your head.

As you step back to look at him properly, you glance down at his hands. Then you notice a small mark between each of his knuckles. Blackened crescent moon shapes.

“What happened to your hands?” you ask.

He chuckles.

“I believe that was you.”

“Me?”

He nods.

“Last night.”

Warmth spreads over your face as you remember how desperately you had clung to him during your climax, his hands pinning yours to the mattress. Then you remember how he had also released one of your hands, how tightly you had gripped onto his arm. With furrowed brows, you slide his kefta and tunic aside to reveal the skin of his arm.

“Aleksander,” you breathe out sharply as you examine the thin black lines over the skin of his bicep. Scratches left by you. “Saints… let me get you something to-”

As you reach for the drawers to search for some healing salve, Aleksander curls his fingers around your wrist, tugging you back against his chest. When you lift your gaze to meet his, he shakes his head.

“Leave them.”

“It doesn’t hurt?” you ask in a whisper as you trace your fingertip lightly over the scratches.

The thought of leaving a reminder of last night on Aleksander’s skin sends a thrill through you, as if your marks have claimed him as yours. He has left his own marks on you, across your shoulders and a spot near the hollow of your throat, hidden beneath your kefta.

The corner of his mouth quirks with a half-smile, as if he too if thinking about the marks on your body.

“Of course not,” he assures you softly.

As you turn around, Baghra gives you a thoroughly unimpressed look which you don’t react to. Swallowing down the vial in your hand, you move to place it in the sink at the far side of the room. Aleksander’s eyes are on you when you glance over at him.

He walks smoothly over towards you, straightening his kefta as he does so before he stops directly in front of you. His fingers brush delicately against your cheek, and you tilt your face towards his open palm as he moves to cup your jaw. Slowly, he traces his thumb over your lower lip before he leans down to press a tender kiss there.

“Are you ready for this?” he asks in a near whisper.

Nodding, you lean forward to kiss him again.

»»---------------------►

“I still don’t understand how you’re doing this,” you murmur quietly.

“Doing what?” Aleksander asks in a low voice.

The two of you stand in the makeshift ballroom assembled in the largest room at the Spinning Wheel. Somehow, Aleksander is currently shielding the two of you from sight as you press your back against one of the columns at the side of the room.

Aleksander’s chest is pressed against yours, his face turned away from you as he surveys the crowd of nobles and Grisha gathered here for the engagement party. He had told you that whilst no one can see you, the two of you could be heard by anyone passing by.

“Making us invisible,” you explain.

He shrugs.

“I’m not entirely sure how it works. But it’s something I’ve been able to do since I was a child.”

The two of you remain quiet as you watch the crowd, staying hidden behind the column. It doesn’t take you long to spot Alina, wearing the formalwear typically used by First Army officers, accompanied by the Lantsov emerald perched on her finger.

Aleksander had told you it was likely she would be wearing the jewel. Emerald isn’t a material you’re overly familiar with, so you reach out subtly with your power to memorise the feeling of it in case you need to locate her at a later date.

The Crown Prince bounds up onto the dais at the side of the room, clamouring smugly for a toast whilst you and Aleksander retreat further into the shadows.

“Now?” you ask. Meeting your eyes, Aleksander nods.

His brows furrow deeply as he draws upon merzost. Blackened skeins of dark power creep up his neck and the colour fades drastically from his cheeks.

Overhead, the light above you falters and the hair at the back of your neck stands up at the prickling sensation of nearby merzost. Tilting your head back, you stare up at the skylight, watching as shadows gather together before they burst through the window.

Glass shatters, shards dropping down onto the crowd as the nichevo’ya descend. With a casual flick of your fingers, you focus on the remains of the window, preventing the material from dropping onto you or Aleksander.

Screams fill the air.

A dark mass of shadow grasps onto Vasily and his screams ring in your ears as his body is ripped in half with a sickening splatter of blood. For a moment, all you can do is stare at the bloodstain smeared on the floor alongside a mangled limb.

The Crown Prince, the man who has been issuing orders against Grisha, locking you in cages and subjecting you to the torment of the First Army, is now dead. In a matter of seconds.

There’s a loud thud and the limp body of the King is discarded onto the makeshift dais.

Despite the toll this must be taking on Aleksander, you can understand the practicality of the nichevo’ya. None of your Grisha have been risked, but the King and the Crown Prince are both dead.

Clasping your hands together, you search for the feeling of an emerald as your eyes scan over the terrified faces. Alina throws her light at one of the nichevo’ya and fear fills you for a moment. What if she can kill them? What would that do to Aleksander?

The light hits shadow, burning bright against the ever-shifting mass of darkness. The nichevo’ya continues to billow around her light, fighting against it. Aleksander’s monsters hold their own rather well.

Sunlight from the broken window above you warms your face, and you realise you’ve moved closer to the action – and that Aleksander’s hold on the shadows surrounding you has loosened.

Across the room, through the throngs of panicked people and the flailing arms of the nichevo’ya, you lock eyes with Alina.

She looks surprised as her gaze flickers down to your kefta, her expression darkening before someone grasps onto her arm and a small group runs from the room.

More nichevo’ya materialise and the crowd disperses as people run frantically to escape the towering shadows. Turning back to look at Aleksander, you find his features frighteningly pale, and his hands are shaking.

“Aleksander, call them off.”

There’s hesitation in his eyes. There’s still two more Lantsovs remaining. But he has gained an advantage against your enemies, and he had promised you to use no more merzost than what was necessary.

“Our Grisha our here. They’re ready to fight for this – for you.”

Visiting the Spinning Wheel in fox form had allowed you to become well acquainted with the layout of the building, as well as the guard rotations, and the hidden doorways. As a result, you had no trouble slipping into the crypt this afternoon and opening up a door for Aleksander and a select few of your Grisha to join the party unnoticed.

Now that the attack has begun you and Aleksander stand visible to all and they flock to your side, waiting for their orders.

The tailoring Genya had done to ensure that none of them would be recognised has now faded, allowing you to recognise friend from foe.

Aleksander holds your gaze for a long moment, then you see some of the tension leave his body as he stops himself from drawing on any more merzost. The nichevo’ya writhe as they lose their life source, dissolving back into nothingness where they wait for Aleksander’s next summons.

Instead, he turns to your Grisha.

“Fedoyr, Fruzsi, refocus our efforts towards the remaining Lantsovs.” They nod, immediately taking off in the same direction as the remaining royal guards. They are followed by a handful of your Grisha. “Genya, ensure that David and Vatra are prepared.”

She inclines her head determinedly before she heads in the opposite direction to Fedoyr and Fruzsi. Leaving only, you and Aleksander. He wears his exhaustion well, but you can see the weight of merzost hanging in his eyes.

“I’ll go find Alina,” you say.

For a moment, Aleksander appears to hesitate before he nods.

“I will draw her away from the fighting for you.”

Words of encouragement and warning are on the tip of your tongue, and Aleksander stands before you with parted lips as if the same thoughts are running through his mind.

His fingers curl around yours, providing a momentary squeeze of reassurance. When his thumb traces over the seam of the fox claw embedded in your hand, emotion seizes your throat shut. Then you rest your other hand over his, offering your own affectionate squeeze before you straighten your shoulders and step backwards.

Aleksander nods in a silent response and the two of you part ways with the same firm determination in your gait.

Knowing that emerald is reserved for the royal family, you follow your power as it guides you through the hallways of the Spinning Wheel. It would offer you more comfort to search for her in fox form, wearing a black kefta makes it obvious that you are the enemy, but you have discovered that you cannot use your power whilst in your other form.

However, you’ve become rather attuned to the fox’s instincts which helps you remain undetected as you weave your way through deserted corridors whilst remaining focused on the unique feeling of the emerald on her finger.

Some durasts experience different materials as sounds, glass has a ring to it whereas metal hums – from what you’ve been told. At the workshop in the Little Palace, you’ve often seen materialki tilting their heads as they tinker away using their power.

But for you, your power has always been sensation-orientated. Materials and elements are an innate feeling that you cannot accurately describe. Sometimes your power feels physical, sometimes it’s emotional. Like how a kefta is one of the most comforting materials for you, it’s safety and protection and gives you a sense of belonging.

Anticipation tingles over your skin and you can practically feel the smooth glossiness of the emerald in your hand as you round a corner carefully.

Alina stands at the end of the corridor, her back ramrod straight as she stares at nothing. Sunlight sparkles dangerously around her body, flickering like blue flame. The only assumption you can make is that Aleksander is speaking to her through the tether between them.

Cautiously, you approach her but there’s no response, no indication that she’s aware of your presence.

Seeing her like this makes you concerned for Aleksander, and you can only hope that he has found a safe place to stand whilst he conducts whatever conversation he’s having with Alina. The thought of him being unaware of his surroundings during this attack has nerves itching over your skin and the fox urges you to hurry up and return to Aleksander’s side.

It’s only once you’re several paces away from her that her eyes widen, and she inhales sharply as her mind returns from wherever it goes when she talks to Aleksander.

As soon as she sees you, she brings her hands together to summon her light. But you’re quicker, your power already curling around the emerald and circlet of gold around her finger, tugging her hand aside.

She frowns, looking down at the hand which is refusing to cooperate with her. As her light dims you realise she can’t summon one handed like Aleksander can. Something you can use to your advantage.

Holding tight onto the ring, you advance towards her. She doesn’t even attempt to use her power, instead swinging a punch in your direction. Dodging, you move backwards, all while keeping her left hand away from the rest of her body.

She huffs loudly in frustration, swinging at you again furiously.

Instinct kicks in, the fox taking momentary control of your body to shift and scamper between her legs. By the time she’s looked down in surprise and spun around, you’re back in human form, landing your own punch to the side of her face.

She stumbles backwards, dropping to the floor. Her head hits polished marble and her body goes limp.

For a few seconds you stand there, in shock.

“Holy Saints.”

You’ve just knocked out the sun summoner.

Kneeling down beside her, you hold your fingertips against her neck, feeling for her heartbeat. It’s still steady and you breathe a sigh of relief.

After a few glances down the corridor, you seize the back of Alina’s jacket and begin to drag her along the floor whilst mentally questioning the fox. What was that?

It had certainly been effective, but you hadn’t expected the fox to take control like that. He growls lowly in the back of your mind whenever your gaze falls back down onto Alina, and you sigh. I know you don’t like her but was that really necessary? I have chloroform in my pocket.

The presence of another person registers in your mind as you reach the end of the corridor, and you spin around with your power at your fingertips, ready to defend yourself.

Then you realise it’s only Aleksander.

Relief fills you at the sight of him, unharmed. He raises a brow at you when he observes the limp form sprawled out on the floor behind you.

“It was an accident,” you explain quickly.

“Ah. How unfortunate.”

Stooping down, he hoists Alina up onto his shoulder.

In the distance, there’s the faint echo of an explosion and the crumbling of stone walls and dirt. A shudder runs up your spine, your amplified abilities giving you the range to sense the tunnels collapsing beneath the building.

“Vatra and David have started destroying the tunnels,” you inform Aleksander. “We should leave now, just in case they accidentally take out a support structure for the building.”

He frowns.

“I thought you considered the foundations when placing the charges?”

“I did. But Vladim’s blasting power recipe is rather unorthodox. It’s effective, but unpredictable in small spaces. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Aleksander nods.

“Alina!”

The two of you turn towards the opposite end of the corridor. A squaller – Nadia – stands there and she is soon joined by another squaller and a woman with a pair of axes in hand. Seizing Aleksander’s sleeve, you whisk him and Alina around the corner.

Bringing your pointer and middle finger together on both hands, you twist them around one another, moving the secret mechanism in the wall to reveal a doorway hidden behind a bookcase.

“Go,” you demand, nudging Aleksander towards the open door. Pointing into the room, a small study, you give him directions. “Through that door, turn right. Then another right and a left. Fedoyr should be posted there by now.”

Stepping inside, he turns around to face you. He says your name, dark eyes scouring over your face.

“Come with me,” he insists. “There’s no need for heroics.”

The sound of heavy footsteps thud down the corridor, frighteningly close, and you panic. Closing the door will keep Aleksander safe, and you can draw your pursuers into a chase to lead them away from him. He repeats your name, both commanding and concerned as he begins to suspect what you’re thinking.

You close the door before he can stop you.

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire @dhampiravidi

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @housekeeperjjswife

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

KYJ Tag List: @tartiflvtte @weepingwitchofthewest @issybee0611 @poemfreak306 @cupids-mf-arrow @nanapuddingisasimpformrballs @writerloversjm @prochnost513 @meg-the-second-greatest @allinestarr @daechgustinad

»»---------------------►

#keep your judgement au #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #the darkling au #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

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fredwkong · 10 months

Text

1000: Prologue

Eric’s always been pretty ordinary. He’s a pretty skinny guy, relatively short, with cute features, floppy brown hair, and a beard. He grew up in a quiet suburb outside of Cincinnati, went to a pretty okay school, and headed off to the local college with a bunch of his classmates. He’d hoped that college would be where he could blossom, come out, and be himself, but instead it’s been more of the same closeted life. He keeps his head down and tries to stay out of the way of all the big guys at school.

It’s the start of summer, early June, and Eric and some of his friends go to Philadelphia for a concert. During the day, Eric roams the city and walks into a thrift shop on the side of the street. It’s one of those stores that feels bigger on the inside, a maze of infinite narrow aisles full of knickknacks, baubles, and the occasional treasure. For a while, Eric explores the store, and finally finds himself in front of a table holding only one item.

It’s a large box, a big square like you might keep a card collection in, but when Eric tries to open it, the lid won’t budge. Instead, moving the box reveals a sheet of yellowing paper on the table underneath it. Eric picks it up.

Congratulations, Eric. It reads. You are the recipient of the 1000 cards. Each week, you will draw three cards and choose one. This card will define how you change in the week that follows. Choose wisely.

Eric looks around, wondering if there are any cameras monitoring him, but the store is deserted. Holding the box, he goes to the front desk to ask about it, but the clerk claims never to have seen it. Eric gives her $5 anyway and heads home with the box.

For the rest of the trip, he thinks about it, wonders what the message could have possibly meant. He wonders if he should ask some of his friends, but he’s not actually that close with any of them, and anyway the 1000 cards seem like something that should be kept secret. Every night, he tries again to open the deck, but finds it still resistant. He even tries to open it with scissors and a knife, but the lid seems impermeable.

The next Saturday night, Eric’s pretty much given up. “Look at me,” he laughs to himself. “It’s Saturday night in summer and I’m sitting in my dorm trying to open a damn box.” He goes and pours himself a bowl of late night cereal in his kitchenette.

When he comes back, the lid of the box is open. Inside are rows upon rows of cards, their faces hidden. Eric finds himself looking around again for hidden cameras, but all he feels is a tingle of potential in the air.

With shaking hands, Eric draws three cards. Their backs are covered in beautiful interlocking geometric patterns, while the faces have drawings on them, like an immense deck of tarot cards.

On the face of the first card is a peach. Well, it looks mostly like a peach. Something about the way the lines of the peach flow together with the tan background make it seem as if the card depicts a round, juicy ass. It looks like it would jiggle with the slightest motion, and looking at it makes Eric feel... hungry.

On the face of the second card is a banana. Something about the way it’s drawn makes it look huge and tantalizing, and Eric’s mouth starts to water. It’s almost perfectly straight and thick, jutting proudly forth from the card. Right at the base of the banana, which is pointing up, it’s been peeled slightly open, and what looks like a drop of glaze or icing sits right on the point of the flesh.

On the face of the third card is a fruit that Eric’s only seen a few times. It’s small, egg-shaped, and covered in hairlike strands. A rambutan, Eric remembers. The hairs don’t just seem to cover the fruit in the art, though, but spread, thick and dark, all over everything on the card. They’re so long and curly, and somehow they look just a little damp, like water’s getting trapped in them.

Holding the cards in his hand, Eric looks up to see the clock. It’s 11:59, almost midnight. Somehow, he senses that he only has a moment to choose what card to take.

Or vote here on Strawpoll: https://strawpoll.com/NoZr3olBXy3

See Eric's whole journey with the 1000 cards here.

#male transformation #reality change #1000 follower party #poll tf #male tf #all fwkong

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baileys-writing-desk · 3 months

Text

The Afternoon Sun

Four was gravely injured in a monster attack, and it took everything Hyrule had to save him. Two days on, the smithy finally learns of the strange place he’s ended up in: Faron’s basin.

(This is concurrent with The Morning Sun, but it can be read on its own)

AO3

In Four’s brief moments of wakefulness, a strange blue creature towers over him…and there’s water all around…he’s in water. Why?

“Don’t worry, Link. You’re safe…”

He has no choice anyway, the smithy remembers as he floats in and out. He can’t leave…he doesn’t know what’s going on. Briefly he is met with the blurry face of the veteran standing in front of him, but even that doesn’t last long as his eyes slowly slip closed again.

“Four…”

“No- don’t fall asleep…yet…”

The next time he stirs, his body is still overcome with weakness, but he has gained just enough awareness to truly think, of what in Hylia’s name could have happened for him to end up here. He whines as his mind draws a blank.

Then a voice sounds from above.

“Ah! Back again, little Link. You with me, boy?”

Four slowly peels his eyes open. The familiar-looking giant blue creature from earlier- or at least a blurry distortion of it- peers down at him from above. He’s still partially submerged in water, with dark walls curving up over him in a circular shape.

Where…exactly am I?

What is that thing??

He grunts, trying and failing to blink the blurriness out of his vision. His body is still incredibly drained…although he must have been asleep for quite a while. The water drips and ripples slightly around him, as the creature extends her arm forward and dips what looks to be two fingers in. Testing the waters, he presumes. But why? Why is he in water?

Must not be regular water.

“Still warm enough…” it mutters, raising its arm back up. “Boy, please speak if you can hear me, will you? It does no good talking to myself.”

…But what kind of water is this?

Four hesitates. The creature wants him to speak; he must not leave it waiting.

“Wh- who are you…?” he croaks, voice incredibly dry. He tries to clear his throat but simply coughs instead. Damn…All this water around yet his mouth still feels like a desert.

“Ah, I suppose I have yet to introduce myself. Now that you seem coherent enough, I shall.” The creature’s blurry face begins to focus a little, showing dark eyes and purplish lips against the pale blue. Two long string-like antennae wave around the sides of her head. “I am Lady Faron, the Water Dragon and warden of the woods. You, young boy, are in my hall within the lake. Now don’t worry, you’re safe here with me.”

Faron…He’s heard that name before. But where…?

The smithy frowns, raising a hand out of the water to touch his forehead. “…And why am I-“

“In my basin, you ask?” Faron chuckles. “That one’s easy. It’s to heal you. In case you don’t remember, you were gravely injured.”

…Oh.

A faint memory drifts in, of his inability to parry a monster’s sharp blade. I was stabbed.

“I…I do.” Four groans, eyebrow furrowing as he starts to make out more of Faron’s features. “You…saved me?”

“Now, boy, don’t give me all the credit here. Another of your companions used all his magic to close your wounds. That is what saved you. But you were still far too weak….” She pauses. “The water you are lying in is my sacred water, which acts as a healing bath.”

Another of your companions…

Hyrule. It had to be Hyrule.

He drops his hand back into the water, noticing the tingling effects of the dragon’s magical substance.

“So tell me, little Link…how do you feel?”

“I’m…” The questions swim through his head. Where’s Rulie? Why does Faron sound so familiar? “…I’ve been better, just so tired…”

Is Rulie okay?

“Are you in any pain?”

Slowly and gently, he shakes his head, being mindful of the dull ache. “Where’s…Hyrule?”

“Oh, him? He’s resting with the Thunder Dragon in his domain. Don’t worry, he’s in very good hands. Lanayru’s grown quite attached to that boy.”

…Lanayru?

This must be Sky’s era, he realizes.

And something comes to mind about three guardian dragons…Lanayru, Eldin?…and Faron. Of course. Water Dragon. He blames his muddled brain for not putting the pieces together earlier.

“Is…anyone else here?” he manages. “…Legend?” Yes. The vet was here, right?

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.” Faron frowns, glancing around the rest of the hall which Four cannot see from the basin. “It’s only you and me. Well…and my Kikwis.”

Your- what??

A small splash comes from his right. Slowly the confused smithy turns his head, as far as he can without dipping his face in the water. Something is there next to him. Something like…a very weird-looking- what?? It stares at him with cute eyes and chuckles, opening its bird-like beak slightly.

“Wh-“ Four startles. “-what the hell is that thing??”

Faron only laughs. “Ah, little Link, I assume it’s your first Kikwi encounter. Now don’t worry, he won’t harm you. If he does, boy, tell me and he’s dinner!”

He coughs from the effort of raising his voice, gazing at the little Kikwi playing in the shallow water. What even are those??

And what was that about dinner?

“No…I won’t eat that…whatever it is.” Four mutters, turning his head back to face Faron.

“Oh, you wouldn’t be eating him!” The Water Dragon grins mischievously. “I will.”

Suddenly it all clicks.

It’s her. Faron. That bitchy dragon who eats things smaller than her. And Four is quite a bit smaller—

Oh no.

This can’t be good.

Too weak to sit up fully, he flails his hands and attempts to scamper back, startling the poor Kikwi. “Nonono…” he squeaks out. “Donteatmedonteatmedonteatmedont-“

“Hey, relax!” Faron’s eyes widen. “Did I say I was going to eat you?”

“No, but…I’ve heard things-“

“Of course you have. My Link must have put that idea into your little head.” She scoffs. “Four, I won’t eat you. Take my word.”

The smithy takes a deep breath, laying back down into the water, exhausted from the energy he had just used. Beside him the Kikwi chortles.

“You promise?” he asks, almost in a whisper.

“On my life.”

Wow. She’s serious about this. He still doesn’t quite know if he can trust her…but it’s not like he has much of a choice. The walls of the basin are far too high for him to climb out, and she most likely wouldn’t let him leave in his condition.

He lets out a long sigh. “…Okay.”

I guess I’ll trust you.

“Well! I’m glad we got that sorted out.” The Water Dragon laughs, then pauses to think. “You’ve been in my hands for over a day, it would be a shame if we didn’t get along, now, wouldn’t it?”

Four slowly nods his head, feeling the sacred water continue to gradually lessen the ache. The Kikwi steps closer to him and taps his cheek.

“And me too! I’ve been by your side, kwee!”

Wait. Did that Kikwi just talk?!

He gasps in surprise, wide eyes staring at the small creature. “You…you can talk too??”

“Ah yes, they can.” Faron answers first. “I suppose that’s a detail I should have mentioned before.”

The Kikwi giggles. “Sorry to startle you, little Link. I’m Machi, kwee!”

Machi. What an interesting name.

“H-hi…Machi. It’s nice to meet you, um…” The smithy hesitates. “You can call me Four.”

“Like the number, I know! How peculiar. Where did that name come from, kwee?”

Oh Hylia…Four groans in displeasure. Now is not the best time to explain the whole story of the Four Sword and how he can split into four people, it's…Too much. Far too exhausting.

“Now Machi, don’t overwhelm him.” Faron’s voice, for once, relieves him. “He’s too weak for explaining, that can come later.”

Thank goodness.

“Oh…my apologies, kwee.” Machi’s eyes droop slightly, and Four briefly reaches out to pat its belly.

“It’s okay,” he mutters. The small Kikwi smiles before stepping back to glance up at Faron. Why do they say ‘kwee’ all the time?, he wonders. These little creatures are quite peculiar.

Four takes a deep breath, resting his eyes and letting his body relax once more. Normally he would be able to deal with all these new discoveries; he would be fascinated at Faron and the Kikwis and their ways of life. He would ask Faron why this basin is clearly made for her, and if she’s ever had to use it. He would leave the hall and take a swim for a while, studying the marine life in this unfamiliar region and telling Hyrule excitedly about his findings.

But he is far from strong enough…nowhere near his full self. That will all have to wait, too.

“Little Link, you still look quite drained.” Faron comments. Yep, sounds about right. “Perhaps I shall leave you some space. The more you rest, the quicker you will be healed, boy.”

He blinks his eyes back open, giving the Water Dragon a slight smile. “...Fair enough.”

“I’m sure Lanayru will come by soon. When you’re better, he can pick you up and take you back to your little friend…Hyrule.”

His heart flutters at her mention of the Traveler. Magic exhaustion, he remembers. Rulie has never been out for more than a couple days…he should be waking up soon, right? I hope he’s okay.

“How- how long will this take?” he mumbles. “...To heal, I mean.”

“I’ll be straight with you, Four, the wounds you sustained were severe. Your friend’s healing saved your life, but I estimate several more days before you can be up and around.”

Well, that’s just great. Looks like he won’t be leaving this basin anytime soon.

At least Faron and Machi are decent company. He’s heard scary stories about Faron and her threats to eat almost anything, but at this point she clearly won’t do it to him. The Kikwis, weird as they are, seem quite nice. And he can still hope for visits, from one of his brothers or Lanayru.

“...Okay,” he answers, nodding slowly. He can hear Machi playing in the water, still by his side, while Faron grins.

“You’re a strong hero, little Link,” she assures him. “I have faith in you. Now…I’ll be right back, boy. Please let yourself rest, and don’t go anywhere.”

Four chuckles at her comment. “I won’t, thanks.”

Unless someone comes to take him from the basin, he is most definitely not going anywhere.

He waits for her to disappear out of sight, listening to the sound of her diving underwater, before letting out a long sigh. The lingering tiredness is beginning to win over once again…

You’re safe now. You’re okay.

As he slowly drifts off, he pictures the day when he can finally reunite with Hyrule and the others.

#bailey writes #linked universe #lu four #faron the water dragon #skyward sword #sky’s era #machi the kikwi!#poor four he’s so freaked out he’s never seen a Kikwi ever #wait til he sees the Parella…haha #tw injury #(not graphic)#faron can be nice to people guys woooow #she basically calls all the younger links little link #lanayru and hyrule mentioned

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mishapen-dear · 2 years

Text

There’s a little green something in the cracks of the road. Grian stares at it, and then he looks at Scar, who is humming cheerfully while he rummages in his bag, and then Grian looks back to the little plant.

Grian looks at Scar again. He takes a step closer to the plant. Scar, blissfully, does not notice.

Something fungal bubbles at the back of Grian’s throat.

He crouches, inconspicuous, next to the plant. He knows it isn’t grass, that it’s probably a weed, but he doesn’t know anything more. He doesn’t care to know anything more, really, and it won’t matter in a moment anyway. He reaches and-

A dull pain pings bright on his arm. He startles upright, wings flaring out, and Scar shoots him several more times with the Nerf gun. The little foam darts bounce harmlessly off of Grian’s chest.

“Bad Grian!” Scar scolds him cheerfully. “No plant killing! Bad!”

“But it’s a small one!” Grian protests immediately, startled and indignant at the embarrassment of being caught. Another foam dart hits him.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Ow- Scar, come on, it’s itsy bitsy,” Grian tries, wheedling now. “It won’t hurt anything.”

“Well, you know that’s not true. It’ll hurt the plant,” Scar answers reasonably. He waves his toy gun threateningly at Grian. “You know the deal, G. No pestulating in the Hoe-ly Spaces.” He uses his dramatic voice to say Hoe-ly Spaces. He always uses the dramatic voice to say Hoe-ly Spaces. Grian wants to punt Hoe-ly Spaces and all associated dramatisms into the sun.

“That’s not a word, Scar,” Grian says petulantly. He ruffles his wings and sits on the larger half of a broken concrete barrier. The vines that had been wrapped around the barrier writhe away from the spores that fall from his wings, so Grian vindictively shakes his wings more. This, at least, Scar does not scold him for.

“What? Sure it is.” Scar has gone back to rifling through his bag again. He keeps pulling out strangely shaped bottles of bright colours with baffling smells. Grian would be more alarmed, but he knows Scar has a weird thing with taking labels off of bottles. How the man ever remembers what goes where, though, he has no idea.

(He has some idea. Scar’s tongue is too many different colours, always, and he’s been almost poisoned thrice. By Grian’s count, the man should be dead.)

“Pestulate is not a word,” Grian says, doubling down.

“Then what is it?” Scar asks innocently. He pulls out a jug of blood and lugs it into the centre of the clearing.

“A nonsense.” Grian shakes his wings again. There’s now a full circle of empty asphalt and concrete around him, free of plant matter. His spores won’t root without living tissue, but he feels a little vindicated by every twitch of the green things moving away from him. “Are you done yet?”

“Grian, Grian, Grian, you can’t rush a good blood ritual” Scar exclaims. “Do you know what happened to the last guy to rush a blood ritual?”

“He di-”

“He died!” Scar presses a hand against his heart. “The plants swooped up and ate him! I found his bones, Grian! His bones!”

“We could just leave,” Grian suggests. “This is- what, the fifth blood ritual? We’re fine without them, Scar. I bet the Kingmaker doesn’t even notice.”

“Oh, pish-posh.” Scar holds out the jug and pours the blood straight down over the smallest unbloomed flower in the clearing. The jug makes awful noises as the blood chugs and glugs out of it, because Scar doesn’t care for any silly thing like fluid dynamics. The jug convulses like its gasping for air and it makes sounds that Grian thinks Scar would make if he were ever simultaneously choked and drowned. The red blood splashes across the green, seeps through the cracks in the asphalt, and gets all over Scar’s shoes. Grian draws his own feet up in distaste, but he’s far enough that no blood touches him. “You know that’s not his name.”

“He doesn’t get a name,” Grian says. “I’m mad at him.”

“Careful, Grian!” Scar says cheerfully. “That almost sounds like rebellion.”

Grian scoffs, loud, but he doesn’t say anything. Scar continues with his stupid blood ritual. Which is to say that Scar goes back to his bag, grabs a canteen, and returns to the plant. Without ceremony, Scar upends that jug over the plant too.

“Scar!” Grian squawks, scrabbling to his feet. “Scar, that’s all our water! Scar!”

“Oops!” Scar says cheerful.

“You only used a few drops for the other rituals!” Grian wails. “We just got that!”

“Oops!” Scar says again. He has no remorse. Grian snatches the nerf gun from where Scar had left it on the ground and shoots him with it. “Ow!”

“You’re the worst,” Grian says.

“Love you, too, G,” Scar says. He shakes the canteen to get the last few drops of water out. Grian watches them fall with despair. The water washes away the blood, dilutes it across the asphalt and towards the ring of vines and green things that surround them. Scar gives the little twice-baptised bloom a loving pat, and it opens in his palm. The petals are a different colour in each Hoe-ly Space, and the same holds true for here. These petals are unnaturally white, unsettlingly perfect, and-

“Is there another flower in there?” Grian demands.

Scar doesn’t lift his gaze. “Yeah,” he says. He touches a scarred hand gently to the second bloom, which shivers at the contact but doesn’t open. “Huh.”

“...Huh?” Grian echoes. “Scar?”

“It’s okay, G,” Scar says too fast. “Let’s just go shopping, yeah? All done here.” He steps back from the plant. He sees the look Grian is giving him and tries to give a bright smile in return. “Seriously, Grian, it’s fine.”

Grian has always had a knack for knowing when Scar is lying.

“...If you say so.” Grian watches Scar pack up his bag, holster the nerf gun, and throw the plant a two-fingered salute. He’s too quick. They haven’t been here for even twenty minutes, maybe, and normally Scar stretches the ritual to last an hour. Grian guesses that he’s not surprised that the blood-jug and the water are the only necessary components. The steps for the other rituals had been sporadically changed each time. “Ready to go?”

“Can we get ice cream on the way?” Scar asks, even though he knows that all the ice cream in the world has already melted.

“Sure,” Grian says, even though he knows that the corpses of the ice cream shop workers are ripe in their rot.

Scar steps up onto the concrete barrier, almost loses his balance then helps Grian up and almost sends them both toppling over. Grian doesn’t comment on it. Scar keeps casting glances to the weird plants, but stops when Grian opens his arms. Scar grabs onto him, tightly, and Grian holds tight in return. Grain’s wings start to flap (Scar sneezes at the spraying spores) and they step off the concrete barrier together. Soon, they’re in the air.

(Scar has cracked a Superman joke at least once every time Grian has flown him somewhere. This time he’s nothing but silent, and he keeps trying to peek back at the plant-filled bridge they’d left behind. Grian flies a little faster.)

—---

Scar lets Grian kill whatever he wants, most days. He doesn’t like mushrooms, or fungus, or mycelia-filled goo, but he doesn’t complain too much. It’s a good deal for both of them, Grian figures. Scar helps Grian with his whole ending-an-apocalypse-by-causing-a-different-apocalypse deal, and he’s good company in a world full of decomposing things that used to be people, and he lets Grian know when he’s getting too close to the rebellion line. The plants destroy anything that oppose them, and the last thing Grian wants is to openly oppose them.

Mushrooms are better. They’re kinder. Almost plant, almost animal, and there’s so much for them to eat. Much better than the violence of true plants.

Honestly? Grian shouldn’t even be alive. It’s pure luck that he found the mycelia before the plants could burrow into him, it’s luck that it Chose him, and it’s luck that it wants the world to end again.

(Sometimes, late at night, he wonders if he’d be happier if he’d been the first harbinger of end-times rather than the second. But, then again, mushrooms are components of decay. Scavengers rather than hunters- it makes sense, maybe, that the fungal spread occurs after the flora’s feast.)

Grian thinks he’s almost done. He used to be human, but now mushrooms sprout around him when he sleeps, and spores spread on the wind from his wings. He leaves large fields of fungus in his wake. Soon enough, he’ll have to actively hunt for the green and force it to recede. Soon enough, the old apocalypse will be ended, and the new ending can truly begin. That’s why Grian doesn’t mind carting Scar around to the last green places so much- Scar gets a free travelling companion, and Grian gets lead right to the green sources that Scar doesn’t want him to hurt. Grian doesn’t hurt them because then Scar will stop showing him where they are, and Grian is smart enough to bide his time. One day, maybe, Scar will die, and Grian will be free to kill as many green spaces as he wants.

(Grian shouldn’t have to kill him. The plants should have killed him. The fungus should have rotted him. Grian sometimes wonders what it means that he’s still alive. He licks poison and blood and shiny things that should give him tetanus, but he’s still alive.)

(Grian thinks about leaving, sometimes, but he never does. He’s always been too curious for his own good.)

“What’s that for?” Grian asks.

Scar freezes like a statue, weedkiller clutched tight in his hands. Slowly, as if Grian is a predator with poor eyesight, he hides it behind his back. Grian tries, unsuccessfully, to stifle his laughter.

“Scar. You know I can see you, don’t you?”

Scar deflates, shoulders slumping forwards as he pulls the weedkiller out again. “Okay, okay, you caught me, G,” he says. “I’m just… looking for a drink.”

“That’s weedkiller.”

“So?”

“...Okay, you’re not even trying now,” Grian says. “What’s with the weedkiller, Scar?”

Scar shuffles his feet and bites his lip, then huffs out a breath. “Are we alone?”

Grian, still smiling, raises his brows and looks around the store. Most of the shelves have been raided, several of them knocked over, and the only people in the vicinity haven’t been people in a long time.

“The plants, G,” Scar says impatiently.

“Oh, no, those are gone,” Grian says. “The mycelium works fast, you know that.”

“Right,” Scar says, and he goes quiet.

Grian eyes him, then gestures to a currently-indoor outdoor furniture set that doesn’t even have any blood on it. “Do you want to sit down?” he offers.

Scar makes a beeline for the furniture set, weedkiller still clutched tight in his grasp. Grian has barely figured out how to sit without crushing his wings when Scar blurts out, “The King’s called a meeting.”

Grian almost falls out of his seat. “What?”

“Yeah,” Scar says. “And I have to go, or, you know.” He jerks his head towards the nearest corpse. There are vines wrapped around its neck. “I was hoping you could give me a ride?”

Grian gapes at him. He feels his mental gears spinning frantically, completely tractionless. “Okay- wait.” He runs his hand through his hair and ignores the mushrooms that brush against his hand. “The King called a meeting- why? He hasn’t done that before- do you think he knows you’re working with me? This is probably a trap, Scar. You know this is probably a trap.”

Scar looks at the weedkiller on his lap. “Yeah.”

Grian stares. “Oh.”

Scar grimace-smiles. “I figured- you’ve been a good friend, Grian. I have… loyalty, to the crown, but I won’t let them kill you.”

“Oh.”

Scar shrugs a little self-consciously. “It’s the least I can do, you know?”

Grian doesn’t want to say it. He likes Scar, though, and he would feel guilty if he didn’t point out, “What’s stopping me from killing them, then? You know what my goals are.”

“Rebellion, Grian,” Scar says automatically. Grian winces and raises his hands in apology, and Scar continues. “I figured- well, maybe you won’t if I ask you really nicely?”

“That can’t be it.”

Scar shrugs. “You haven’t touched the spaces,” he explains. “And all I did there is ask you nicely.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Grian fumbles for a second. “That’s- it’s- like- chopping off a head will kill a body?” he tries. “Like- the spaces are the hands, and the King is the head, so that’s- yeah.”

“Are you going to chop his head off?”

Grian is quiet.

“Please, Grian, don’t kill him,” Scar says. He holds the weedkiller carefully, and his fingers keep nervously tapping at its sides. “Neither of them. None of them. Just- keep being your mushroomy, birdy self, okay? You don’t even have to talk to them if you don’t want to.”

Grian is silent.

“Please?”

Grian caves. Mournfully, he thinks of the Hoe-ly Spaces, and he thinks of the quiet rule he has to kill those whenever Scar dies. It feels wrong to delegate something like killing the King to that same rule, but- Scar is right. Beheading the King sounds like it comes too close to rebelling, anyway. “Okay.”

Scar lets out a breath, then gives Grian a winning smile. “Okay!” he says. “Okay, perfect! Hey, I think I saw some chocolate earlier, maybe it won’t be expired.”

“It’s definitely expired,” Grian says, but he stands and offers Scar a hand to help him up.

Scar takes the hand and pulls himself up to his feet. “It’s always good to have hope, G,” he says brightly, and they continue to ravage the store.

—---

The place Scar takes him to isn’t green at all. It’s white and red and brown, like old and new blood on white petals. Well, Grian shouldn’t be thinking in similes here- there is literally old and new blood staining old petals almost everywhere he looks.

The border of the Tree’s territory is made of wood, or whatever it is that roots are made of. They drip red onto the white flowers that make up the groundcover. It had been relatively easy to get past the border- it opened up when Scar approached, peacefully allowing him through. The roots shuddered furiously when Grian approached, but they didn’t kill him when he tucked his wings in and pretended to be demure, so he thinks that means he’s basically Scar’s unwelcomely welcomed plus one. He’s not sure if court people even get to have plus ones, but he’s not skewered by evil plant matter so he thinks that he gets to count as a plus one.

He’s maybe a little nervous.

The interior of the Tree’s territory doesn’t make him feel any more at ease, either. This, too, is a place that is blindingly white. The Tree itself sits in the very centre, painfully pale and looming. The King’s Spire sits to its right, a building of previously-white colours that has now been overgrown with green. Moss and vines, Grian thinks, but he can’t distinguish anything else. Beneath the Tree are several small figures that cause something fungal to gurgle in his throat when he looks at them too hard. Grian stays close to Scar and tries to turn his eyes to the ground.

It’s hard not to acknowledge the Tree, though. They approach it together, slowly engulfed by the leaf cover overhead and hidden from the sun. It’s almost dark. Grian feels very small. The last time he’d felt so small was when his human self had accepted the blessings of the mycelium. He’d been welcome, then, but there is no welcome for him here.

Scar, of course, seems unaffected.

“You’re late.” Grian chances a glance upwards to see a woman with dead eyes and red flowers sprouting from her hair. The fungal thing tries to crawl out of his mouth. He swallows hard and ducks his head. He’s suddenly questioning the might of Scar’s weedkiller against all of this. He understands a little, maybe, the might that would have been needed to bring the first apocalypse.

“I’m right on time,” Scar disagrees. “You’re just early.”

“Everyone else has gone.” The woman sounds unimpressed. “And who do you have with you? You know he wants these audiences to be one-on-one.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Scar dismisses. “Sym- synergy. We’re really synergetic. I couldn’t have gotten here at all without Grian.”

“Your funeral.”

“Ha,” Scar says. “As if.”

Grian is startled enough by this statement to look up at Scar, but Scar grabs him by the arm and ushers him towards the trunk of the Tree. “Hey, wait- what do you mean?” Grian hisses. It occurs to him for the first time that this could be a trap for him.

“Not now, G,” Scar mumbles to him. “Ask me later.”

Grian, ruffled, unruffles a little bit at that. After all, there wouldn’t be a “later” if Scar was going to kill him now, right? Grian is beginning to realize that Scar is wrapped up tighter in whatever- whatever this is a lot more than Grian had first assumed, and he does not like it. Not one bit. He hates this, actually, and he hates it more when Scar knocks on the trunk and the wood creaks as it twists and bends out of their way.

A voice from within calls, “Welcome, Goodtimes, to my most private of areas.” And Grian hates that most of all.

They enter the Tree. The Tree creaks and groans and it closes behind them. Trapping them inside. And Grian hates this so much.

He finds even more to hate as they delve deeper into the almost-room that’s waiting for them. The King sits on a throne in the centre, drooping like a wilted flower. He’s dead. Grian can tell that immediately- he wants to spread his wings and spread the spores, but Scar asked him not to, and-

Wait. What?

Grian looks again. The King continues to be dead. The crown sits golden on his head, shining and perfect. The King is undecayed, unblemished, but his eyes are flat, and he isn’t breathing, and Grian can almost hear the creaking as he scowls.

“What have you brought me?”

“Presents,” Scar promises. “Just as you’ve asked. They’re for you, too, Bdubs.”

Grian again begins to wonder if this is a trap. Before he can continue that train of thought, however, there’s more creaking as the Tree shudders around them. The walls shiver, and lichen sloughs downwards until there’s just a human-shaped lump of green left against the wall. The human lump turns around and looks right at Grian with its impossibly large eyes.

Grian almost bares his teeth. He knows that look. This is competition.

(Competiton for what? There’s so much to fight over, probably, if he really thinks hard about it.)

“Why is the bed made of dirt?” Grian asks.

Scar balks, the King pauses, and the lichen-man stares.

“I mean, not to ruffle any feathers,” Grian rushes, valiantly not ruffling any of his. “I guess I was just expecting…”

“What?” The dead King asks.

“More?” Grian says. “Pillows? Blankets? Uh. More gold, I guess, but I know people don’t really carry that around these days. Didn’t.”

“The crown is gold,” the lichen man says.

“Aye, but tis a tiny crown,” the King concedes.

“And the bed is made of dirt,” Grian says.

“It’s a plant apocalypse,” the lichen-man -Bdubs- says. “Of course the bed is made of dirt. It’s not like he actually needs any sleep.”

“I like to nap,” the dead King protests. “Royal naps are very important, Bdubs.”

“Of course, your highness, of course,” Bdubs says quickly. “But the dirt is fine, right?”

“I mean,” the King says. “A dirt nap is mighty thematic, all considering, but… You there, Goodtimes! Have you brought your king a pillow?”

“Uh- no, no.” Scar laughs a little, startled. “No, I didn’t.”

“Shame,” the King says. The Tree rumbles. “Then you have failed me. Goodbye, Goodtimes. You served me well.”

“Whuh-” Grian starts.

“Woahwoahwoa-” Scar babbles.

“WAIT!” Bdubs shouts.

The Tree stops rumbling.

“Yes?” the King asks.

Bdubs looks at the King, then he looks at Scar, then he looks to Grian, then he looks back to the King. “Scar - Goodtimes has displeased you mightily, my liege,” he hazards. The dead King nods wisely. “Right-right- but he has displayed his loyalty quite mightily, too! The blood sacrifices are always pleasing, aren’t they?”

“You would have me grant mercy?” The King sounds displeased. Grian shuffles. He wonders if it’s even possible to kill a dead guy. He wonders if his mushrooms can kill. He hasn’t had much practice spreading them on purpose, but maybe if he can get them in the eyes?

“No, no, no, no mercy,” Bdubs amends hastily. “Just- inconvenience.” He leans in and whispers loudly. “My lord, he has a friend with him. The oncoming rot? I’m just saying- two birds with one stone here.”

“Oh?” The King looks closer at Grian. Grian lifts his wings a little in a threat display. The King nods slowly. “I see, I see… Goodtimes, I offer you a choice.”

“I don’t want to make a choice,” Scar says, more weakly than Grian has ever heard him.

“Nonetheless you have it!” the King booms. “Goodtimes- you may spare your own life, or the life of the oncoming rot. You have-”

“To give you your gifts first,” Scar says loudly.

The King pauses. “You interrupt me?”

“For presents,” Scar says quickly. He pulls of his bag and rifles through it quickly. Bdubs shuffles over and Scar hands over several unlabelled bottles. Salvation. Hope rises within Grian until, alarmingly, he realizes that none of the jugs are the weedkiller.

“Scar,” Grian says quietly.

“It’s okay, G,” Scar replies quickly.

Bdubs opens each jug and sniffs it in turn, then brings them to the King and pours them at the base of the throne. With each bottle the King’s body twitches, making noises like an ancient rocking chair, and- it takes Grian a moment to notice, but each bottle emptied at his feet brings life back to the King’s features. He grins, wide and sharp-toothed, and Grian wonders if he’s lost his chance to escape.

“Now, the choice,” the King begins.

“No,” Grian says, and he lets loose.

He’s on the ground three seconds later.

Lichen fills his mouth, vines around his wrist and wings, bark already growing quickly over his legs to trap him in place. Bdubs wipes a stray mushroom off of his sleeve in disgust, and Scar stares with wide, despairing eyes.

Do something! Grian tries to yell back with his own eyes. Scar doesn’t do anything except let out a breath, and then start to smile.

Scar says, “Phew! That took you forever, Bdubs.”

“Huh?” Bdubs says.

“I started thinking you weren’t going to stop him at all,” Scar remarks, and Grian’s heart drops into his stomach.

“OH,” Bdubs says loudly. His eyes sparkle. “Oh, so this- oh, phew! You got me worried there, Scar! Really worried! ‘Why is he hanging out with the oncoming rot,’ I said.”

“I said that,” the King argues.

“Of course, of course,” Bdubs says quickly. “Anyway, I said ‘wow, I wonder why Scar is hanging out with the oncoming rot!’ But you just needed a bit of help with this one, didn’t you?”

Scar smiles widely. He rummages through his bag again. “Right on, Bdubs,” he says. “Can’t kill a fungus surrounded by fungus, right? It’ll just grow right back!” The two of them chortle together and Scar brings another jug out of his backpack.

In fragile hope, Grian’s heart begins to beat again because he recognizes that jug. It’s the weedkiller. Label torn off. Scar opens it, takes a sip, and doesn’t flinch.

Grian feels several emotions all at once.

Scar hands the weedkiller over to Bdubs just as the King says, “What are you waiting for, Goodtimes?”

“You still have my bow, King,” Scar says.

“I thought we gave that back…?” The King looks questioningly to Bdubs.

“You took it away again after Scar failed to provide appropriate subservience, my lord.”

“Oh, well have it back, then, Goodtimes.” The King waves his hand and more of the tree creaks and moans. A real and true bow and quiver are revealed when the floor pulls back. Grian wriggles frantically, fear spiking again. Scar still hasn’t wavered. Grian is starting to doubt the contents of the weedkiller jug. He tries to flap his wings but the bark has grown over the edges. He tries to let the fungus out but his throat is clogged by lichen. The wood around him dies and tries to rot but it’s just grown over and living again in less than a second.

Scar strides over, playing with the quiver. He kneels next to Grian, then pulls out an arrow. Grian stares up at him, making his eyes as wide and pleading as he can. Scar doesn’t look at him. “Long live the King,” Scar says, raising his arrow. Bdubs raises the jug to him, but doesn’t drink.

Consternation flashes over Scar’s face, and Grian feels another rush of emotion he doesn’t know how to parse. Then Scar’s expression hardens and he brings the arrow down.

It hurts. Grian yells against the lichen in his mouth. There isn’t any blood- Grian isn’t human anymore. Of course there isn’t blood. There is an arrow in him and there isn’t any blood and Scar raises his fist with a cheer, and the King raises both arms with a cheer, and Bdubs drinks the weedkiller.

The Tree shudders.

The King collapses like a puppet with its strings cut.

Bdubs shrieks. The weedkiller drops. It sprays over the floor. The Tree screams. Grian thinks he’s also screaming. Scar isn’t screaming. Scar is frozen, false smile plastered across his face, and Grian realizes with dizzying clarity that he has no fucking clue when Scar is or isn’t lying. That’s a weird thing to realize in the worst moment of Grian’s after-apocalypse life and it’s so silly he just starts to laugh. He stops laughing when a branch spears through Scar’s chest.

“Traitor!” Bdubs yells. Three more branches strike Scar through. He gasps at each one, but he doesn’t struggle. He doesn’t try to get away. He doesn’t stop smiling. He doesn’t start bleeding. “The King trusted you!”

“The King is dead, Bdubs,” Scar says. “And your apocalypse has been ending. The oncoming rot hasn’t been oncoming for a long time- it’s been here-” he gestures wildly to Grian, who has yet another flurry of unregistered emotions “-the whole time, and you’ve let it!”

“The plants-”

“Kill those who oppose,” Scar says. “But your court has been opposing you since the moment you raised them. You failed your own apocalypse.”

Grian feels dizzy. He isn’t bleeding, but he is dying.

Why isn’t Scar bleeding?

“...What are you?” Bdubs asks. He’s breathing heavily. Grian’s vision is swimming, but he thinks Bdubs has sunk down to the floor. “Why-“ another branch spears Scar through “- aren’t-” another “-you-” another “-dead?”

“I’unno,” Scar says. “It never sticks.” The Tree rumbles overhead. Grain can feel it through the floor. “How about you? Are you dead yet, Bdubs?”

There’s silence. “Bdubs?”

The Tree stops rumbling.

“I don’t think poision is supposed to work like that,” Scar says. Or he says something like it. Grian isn’t sure. He’s really tired.

There’s something warm pressed against his face. “I didn’t lie to you,” Scar says quietly. Grian makes a little noise. “I didn’t. I said I wouldn’t let them kill you. I didn’t say anything about me. Doesn’t that mean something, G?” Grian doesn’t answer. “Yeah, yeah…”

Grian breathes out, slow, through his nose.

“You’d hate it the other way around,” Scar promises quietly. “But you did it, Grian. Bdubs wouldn’t have drank that without you. That was you, alright? You did it, you won. New apocalypse, new you. That’s the way it goes. The King died, and now it’s you, and- and it won’t be like this. It’ll be better. I don’t like mushrooms, but I’ll learn to like them when they’re you, okay?”

Grian can’t reply.

“I’ll see you soon, Grian,” Scar mumbles, and he sounds so far away.

And Grian goes to sleep.

And Mother Spore wakes up.

---

written for the @pinchhitsfromthevoid event and for the @ghastspidergwen person! this got. wildly out of hand basically the second i started to write it. unfortunately i suffer from "cannot write a normal apocalypse au" disease but eyyy that just means its a two-apocalypse package deal, which was really fun to write. hopefully it's just as fun to read!

(also on ao3)

#i wrote this in like four or five hours and posted On the deadline #this is almost pure stream of consciousness babeyyyyy #mishapen words #grian #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft fic #<- lemme know if i need to add any more trigger tags #hello tag readers. i want you all to know how genuinely little i planned this fic going into it #i do not understand how there's several moments of foreshadowing #i cannot comprehend the fact that the consistencies outnumber the inconsistencies #this fic wrote itself and i was merely its possessed vessel for four-five-however-many-hours #anyway spoilers in the next few tags you have been Warned #look away now #have you looked away #it's okay i read ahead when i shouldn't too #these are the trigger tags for filtering purposes theyve got to be spoilery sorry about that #death tw #blood tw #body horror tw #<- im not sure the body horror really Applies but there you have it anyway #lemme know if i missed any

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bookshelf-dust · 2 years

Note

Can I request a Gareth x reader where the reader who isn't that good with food and often forgets to eat or doesn’t eat enough?

think you can let me do that?

gareth emerson x gn!reader

word count: 952

warnings: just like the request said. swearing, reader has anxiety and tummy correlating problems. reader has poor relationship with food. maybe skip this one if it’s triggering <3 kind of shy!reader too a little bit? just kinda went everywhere and tried to find a way. reader likes stickers!!

a/n: sure you can!! thank you for your request my sweet! sorry it took me a little while. i tried to do my very best based on my own experiences and the situation in general. i really hope you like it anon! <333 (also pls look at his ring on his thumb in this gif but in another shot it’s on his middle. i love him. fidgety baby. also his arms look yummy. okay i’m done i swear)

————

Gareth noticed your hands shaking before you did, apparently used to the feeling.

You thought it was from the pre-exam jitters. He thought otherwise.

“Did you eat this morning?”

Huh. That was a good question. You thought about it, remembering brushing your teeth, reading over your notes one last time, putting your coat on. No breakfast.

You turned to look at him, blue eyes boring into yours. You shook your head.

Gareth sighed, but there was no malice in it. He knew how you could get. You worry yourself sick, forget to eat, or just can’t because your stomach is in knots. Sometimes you get preoccupied and it completely slips your mind, and when you do eat, it’s something inadequate or you don’t finish your meal—buzzing with anxiety instead.

“That’s okay. Since your test is out of the way, and I’m sure you fucking aced it, can I buy you lunch, maybe?”

“Sure, Gare.”

“Anything you want.”

You let Gareth pick out your lunch, and he went for something that wouldn’t upset your tummy, that wouldn’t stop you from eating half way through. Something that felt easy.

He’d gotten very good at that lately. He knew it wasn’t your fault and he wanted to help you as best as he could. He just wanted you happy and safe and healthy.

But it was finals week. And you were worried sick despite the copious amount of studying you were doing, knowing you were going to do your damn best. And it wouldn’t stop until exams were over.

When you ate that night, it was like your food wasn’t nearly as good as it used to be, and all you could think about was how you had other stuff to do. So you abandoned more of your pizza than you should’ve, shoving your nose back in your books.

The problem was, it wasn’t always just because of exams. You worried about every little thing. This and that. Minor things. And lately eating just seemed like an afterthought—this thing you needed to do but would get around to if you had time.

You forgot breakfast the next morning and then lunch. But when Gareth came over for dinner, he saw it in your face immediately, and decided to breach the topic as carefully as he could.

He was worried about you. Worried about his baby.

You stared down at the sticker pack he’d brought you, bending the paper and peeling back a very particular Scooby-Doo and pasting it onto your very plain folder.

Gareth reached out, tapping his fingers on the table in front of you. You raised your head.

“Hi,” you said, voice soft.

“Hi, sweet thing.” His hand found your cheek, his touch gentle and calming. “I want to help you, okay? Think you can let me do that?”

He didn’t need to lay it out for you. You were well aware he knew about your habits and was doing his best to let you try and work things out before pushing. Before prying.

But you wanted that little push. You knew he would help you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

“Okay.”

Gareth’s face split in a grin, brows pinching together, puppy dog eyes in full bloom looking at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Gare. What did you have in mind?”

He moved his hand, laying his palm face up the way you liked for him to do, allowing you to draw shapes and patterns, rub over the callouses here and there.

“I was thinking we get you a little notebook or maybe a small chalkboard. Something where you can write down reminders, reminding you to get a snack or eat some lunch.” His other thumb brushed over your eyebrow.

You nodded at him, thinking that could be helpful, and a little silly for not considering it before.

“And I know sometimes your tummy doesn’t want a whole lot, and sometimes you don’t eat all of your food, so we could find you a couple things your comfortable with—like in quantity—stuff you don’t have to worry about.”

“I don’t want you to have to worry about eating too. You shouldn’t have to. I think comfort foods could work, at least for right now, just to get you on a regular schedule.”

His eyes roved all over your face, scanning for any hint that he might’ve upset you.

“Yeah. Thank you. You promise you’ll help me, Gare?”

“Of course I will. We can do this together. Just want you taken care of, you know that right? You deserve to have a well-taken-care-of tummy. I’ll do anything I can to help ease that sweet mind of yours.”

You nodded again, seeing as your words had evaded you.

Gareth leaned across the table, kissed your forehead, the crease between your brows, your nose and chin. He glanced down, catching a sticker with Scooby and Shaggy holding enormous stacks of sandwiches. His ring-clad finger tapped the shimmery paper. “That one.” You placed it on your folder.

And he did help you. More than you thought possible. The first full week you’d gone without forgetting a meal, he bought you more stickers and kissed you silly, muttering how proud he was of you. Maybe your portions weren’t huge, but you were finishing all of it and you hadn’t forgotten breakfast in forever.

Gareth was the best helper in the world. You told him as much, only for him to blush madly and plant his forehead on your chest, curls tickling your jaw.

“You’re my star. My trooper. Best baby in the whole world,” he said the words into your skin, still pressed against you, but you could feel his grin at his own cheesiness. You appreciated every sentiment.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#gareth emerson #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x you #gareth emerson x gn!reader #corroded coffin #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #gareth emerson fic #gareth stranger things #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth the great #gareth emerson comfort #savannah’s fics

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itneverendshere · 2 years

Text

"this love came back to me." - v

Pairing: Sunghoon!AU x Female!Reader

Summary: sunghoon never stopped loving his best friend's older sister. even when you broke his heart. even when you left. will he finally let you go or will you finally open up your heart to him?

Chapter word count: 2.322k

CHAPTER WARNIGS: more Angst!! unrequited love; childhood friends; friends to strangers; strangers to friends; alcohol; cursing; slowburn!!;

v. twenty and back

It feels surreal to him, to finally lay eyes upon you after two years.

Staring is his only form of communication since you walked through that door. You haven’t seen him yet. There isn’t a single person at the party that didn’t rush to your side the moment they saw you.

He’s supposed to be over you. And he thinks he is, really.

Sunghoon almost ran to you too, until he remembered your last conversation— argument really — a week before you left. And how he didn’t show up at the airport even though you begged him to, through a voicemail. He blocked your number right after he listened to it. As a matter of fact, he blocked you everywhere.

Out of sight, out of mind. Right? It felt like a good idea then, he wasn’t so sure about it a month later, but the damage was done. No backing down. He spent hours, entire nights, awake and overthinking the entire thing.

Crossing the line again isn’t an option. He pushed you out of his life and walked away from your own. He remembers that the heartbreak felt cold, and still does, but he moved on.

The memories keep flooding back as he stares at you and so does the embarrassment.

You barely look any different, still carrying the appearance of soulfire sparking against the ice. He could look at you for hours. Seeing you always felt like watching the last single beam of light from the sunset. He’s been watching you for longer than he’d like to admit.

To Sunghoon, you were, still like love, the kind of love that one would find themselves lucky to perceive only for a blink of an eye. But he reminds himself, that his feelings for you are dead and buried.

“Stare any longer will you.”

The interruption comes to him in the shape of Jake’s voice.

Sunghoon’s eyes drop from your figure for the first time in ten minutes, refocusing on the drink in his hand.

“I’m not.”

His poor attempt to lie draws out a smile from his best friend, “You’re not going to greet her?”

“I don’t think she wants me to.”

His nerves are so bad he shakes at just the thought. He deserves a slap across the face from you. He knows Jake suspects something went terribly wrong between his best friend and his sister, but Sunghoon never told him the details.

“Right,” Jake’s chuckle is light, laced with a hum of amusement at the matter, “Not like she isn’t one of your best friends too.”

Sunghoon can feel a headache forming. It tells him it’s time to rest someplace quiet, to ride out the storm within his heart away from all these people.

“Is she?”

Not anymore. He walked away and you let him.

“She misses you.”

Sunghoon feels himself scoff involuntarily, “Did she tell you that?”

He hates feeling so bitter, especially about you. You did nothing wrong and yet; his heart feels crushed every time someone mentions you.

“She did.”

“What?” His mouth goes dry, there’s the roar of his blood in his ears.

His eyes sparkle when he looks at you, Jake swears they give off light.

“Go say hi before I punch you in the face. I know you miss her too.”

He does. So much he can barely put into words.

“Okay.”

You escape to your kitchen before someone else gets the chance to greet you. Horrible thing to do, but you’ve only been back for a few hours and all the attention is getting a little too much. Your energy and mood are running on an empty tank by now. You feel the need to move almost without end, if your limbs were moving the anxiety was gone, or at least you could ignore it a while longer.

Being back home after so long is amazing. It’s so incredibly fulfilling, it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, but also terrified. Because… what now? You’ve spent the last two years on the other side of the globe. You’re different. Everyone’s different. Which isn’t exactly a bad thing…but it’s something.

You’ve grown into yourself, no longer a small-town girl but someone who’s lived and seen the world. Your journey of self-discovery just started, only a few chapters have been written, but somehow it feels like being home is going to remind you this journey is about you.

“You’re hiding.”

You’ve been caught. You immediately release your lip from between your teeth, turning to face him like a deer in headlights. As if you’d need to turn around to remember him or his voice.

It was deep now; it gave him an air of solid confidence and was so very easy on the ears.

“Am not.” You say guiltily.

Sunghood huffs. It’s like you never left in the first place. Like you two haven’t spent the last two years dragging your friendship through a silent great war.

You’d been switching between biting your nails and bouncing your knee all while you tried to greet everyone and catch up. He hates that he wasn’t brave enough to save you from the overwhelming crowd.

“Liar,” His voice is all airy and teasing, “You’re still a bad liar.”

You flush. How come he still knows you like the back of his hand? You can tell by the dazzling grin on his face.

You’d changed, but so had he. Both of you seem mature now.

Sunghoon never had an ugly phase. You’ve always been convinced that he came out of the womb looking like a runway model. He always had an appearance that could make him stand out in a crowd. He was fair, almost pale white. If he was a pretty boy back then, he was a handsome man now. His dark brown eyes contrasted exceptionally with his light-toned face. And they are still as deep and expressive as before as if you could get lost if you stared long enough.

Not that you ever did.

“But seriously,” His teasing tone is gone. “What’s wrong?”

He’s using that voice again, the one he used when he wanted something from you. You hate that he still knows you so well.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. This wasn’t how you imagined your first night back home. He shouldn’t be here. And why the hell are you talking to him? You both hurt each other, you’re supposed to be angry.

Fuck, you’ve been…resentful, for the past two years, and all that it takes for it to stop, is seeing him? Get a grip.

Sunghoon’s forehead creases with worry, before shuffling close to you, thighs touching. He tells himself he’s only trying to help an old friend. That’s all that you are now. Supposedly.

“Hey.” He nudges you with his elbow, looking down at you with those eyes. “Tell me, what’s wrong?”

God. Didn’t he understand he was making this harder? You consider running away and locking yourself up in your room, maybe curling up in a ball forever. He’s the reason you’ve been dreading this day. He hurt you. You hurt him, and yet, you can tell he still cares. You two have had small arguments in the past, they were short lasting and would end quickly. That wasn’t the case this time.

You used to share secret glances across the room, share inside jokes from a distance, and practically read each other’s minds.

Sunghoon nudges you once again, this time your leg with his foot, and gives you a smile that lit up the room. You can tell he’s nervous, his eyes keep darting between your face and the wooden floors, but his worried tone brings you back into the kitchen.

You shouldn’t be here. It’s half-past midnight, you should be in bed, resting in preparation for a long day of unpacking tomorrow.

Taking a deep breath, you shrug your shoulders, “Just a little overwhelmed, that’s all,” you finally admit, “Maybe a lot?”

You say it all in one breath. You can feel him watching you like his eyes are burning holes into the side of your head. You press your body further back, wishing you could melt into the counter.

Sunghoon can barely believe you are here, right here, “Want me to kick everyone out?” He hears himself ask as if it hasn’t been over two years since the last time he spoke to you, as if this conversation wasn’t completely out of the ordinary.

You blink in surprise, but don’t stop the small smile that pulls at your lips, of course, he would say something of the sort. Always attempting to get your mind off what’s stressing you out.

“That’s my family and yours.”

“You think I won’t do it?” Sunghoon hears himself ask softly, although he’s teasing, he would do it in a heartbeat if you asked him to.

“I know you would.” Your voice drips with amusement and you roll your eyes at him with a shake of your head.

Sunghoon finds himself watching you quietly, your eyes taking in the area surrounding you, avoiding his gaze. His lips quirk up at your familiar mannerisms, and he remembers how much he’s missed you.

Again.

You both sit in silence for a while, music and voices filling the background noise. It feels somewhat peaceful and incredibly nerve-wracking at the same time.

He's not sure if the whole “let's ignore each other for two years” plan worked. He spent months trying to pretend you didn’t exist, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t supposed to end like that.

Your expression falls a little, and you unclasp your hands, letting them hang at your sides, “Sunghoon...”

He jerks, not expecting that tone in your voice, and steps closer to you, “I’m sorry I never called,” he tells you, full lips pursed, looking like he was carefully picking his next words, “I should’ve been at the airport or explained things better…I don’t know.”

“It’s not your fault,” You shift your eyes to his red cup, watching the liquid for a few seconds, before meeting his gaze, “I didn’t reach out either.”

He wonders if you ever thought about each other at the same time.

Sunghoon can’t tell how many times a day he wondered where you were, what you were doing, and mostly if you were happy. He should’ve hugged you longer the last time he saw you. His first two years of college went by without you, and that was…strange.

“I almost did,” He hears himself say softly, “Call you.”

You turn your head slightly, pretty eyes staring him down, nose scrunched up a little, “You did?”

He nods at your words, and in an instant, his cheeks were rosy, “On your birthday, last year…But I chickened out.”

He’s a little pleased when you blink in surprise at him, before frowning half-heartedly, “I almost called you too,” You grumble, earning a chuckle from him, “For a long time, I really missed having you around.”

Sunghoon feels his heart skip, “Yeah?”

You shrug anxiously, and purse your lips, “You were my best friend.”

He swallows sharply. Despite the sinking in his stomach, he’s happy you still hold him in such high consideration, after everything. Even if it only confirms that you’d never see him that way.

“Everything reminded me of you,” He smiles tightly with a frown, but keeps letting the words out, “Every time I saw something I knew you’d like; I picked up my phone and then…just stared at it. You’d be everywhere, and honestly, I’d know you anywhere.”

“I missed you.”

Sunghoon stares at you in awe, replaying your words over and over his head. Hesitantly, you place your hand over his, on the counter, and meet his eye, he holds your hands properly in his own and sighs contently.

“I’m really sorry,” He apologizes again, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Your shoulders seem to relax a little, and your features smooth out, “I know.”

Sunghoon’s soft hands are now much rougher than what you remembered. But his heart was the same, soft, and naked. He's close enough that you can feel the warmth emanating from his body.

He still smells the same. You flicker your eyes up to his again, desperate for comfort. His intense gaze sends you into a frenzy.

He still looks at you like that. His fingers trace your jaw, moving softly against your skin before trailing up to get lost in your hair, “I’m going to spend this summer making it up to you.”

“You don’t have to Hoon,” You let the words tumble from your lips, “We were both idiots.”

Sunghoon tuts to himself, furrowing his dark brows with a shake of his head, “I did this, not you. You simply respected my stupid decision.”

“But—", You try to continue, almost gasping when his other hand comes up to fully encase your features, starry eyes soft as he takes you in, “I did this too.”

He cups your cheek in his hand, something he always did back then.

Somehow, his hands always ended up close to you, usually cradling your face. Sunghoon had always been so cautious and caring around you, you couldn’t fathom him another away. It always felt like he was relishing in the feel of you, committing the act to memory.

“We’re never doing this again.”

You almost laugh at his desperate tone, if only you didn’t feel the same about the entire situation, “We still got an entire summer, right?”

You known that soon enough you'll have to discuss this topic again and talk things trough, properly, without twenty people surrounding you. But for now, you'll simply enjoy his company.

Sunghoon tugged you closer to his chest, “You and me sweets, all summer.”

For the first time in years, things felt right. A summer of adventure and fun with the person you missed the most. That sounded just about damn right.

______________________________________________________________

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hanahaki-ghost · 3 months

Text

Meeting chrome:

Based on the drawing I did

Everyone knows I don’t write much but sudden inspiration at like 3am to write so yeah here ya go.

——————————

Two figures ran out of a door, the smaller being carried as they ran from the door into a field of flowers. There was a random playground off to their left and a bright blue sky above their head. A few odd structures around them.

As they got out into the field the man slammed the door behind them. The man was in rough shape in vest having a few tears yellow dripping from his screen quickly. As they got out into the safety of the field he fell to his knees setting the child in his arms down, he then used his arms to brace himself as he fell forward a bit from exhaustion. He eventually just collapsed into the grass and turned onto his back as the white haired child ran over to him and kneeled next to him.

“RGB what’s wrong?!” She said worriedly for her guide.

“I’ll Be…a-aL-alRigHt HerO” RGB said to the girl names Hero. “J-j-JusT n-e-E-ee-Eed a bit of a b-bre-BreAk”

“Maybe that bottle will help, the one you used when I got hurt and couldn’t sleep” she said digging around in the man’s vest for another one of those vials. She was worried just wanting to get him back on his feet.

“Hero p-pl-pLeAse, I’ll be fine j-JuSt give me a mo-mO-Mo-moMeNt” He tried to stop her little hands but she reached the vial before he could stop her and she uncapped it. Though as he reached to stop her he accidentally knocked it from her hand and as it spilled out in the grass some getting in his vents.

He sputtered and struggled to move away from the contents in the vial as hero grabbed the vial to get it away but it was too late. RGB felt himself become light headed looking to hero before his screen switched off body going limp.

Hero panicked seeing this as she started shaking him trying to get him to wake up. “RGB? Please this isn’t funny get up” she pleaded shaking him. She moved to his tv head and started flicking the switches which did nothing before going to press the black button.

When she did she watched as he twitched and she hoped that had worked, though she stumbled to her feet as the tv headed man suddenly sprung up, doing a bit of a spin. A second pair of arms appeared on his torso as his screen flickered on though she was surprised by the eye and mouth the greeted her on the screen.

Her guide landed on their feet they looked down at her, their test bars quirking into a smile their eye looking happy. “Why hello there little darling, you don’t quite look like you belong here” he said crouching to her height looking at her one pair of arms bracing himself on the ground, one hand on his chin and the free hand snapped and caught his cane as it came to him. His voice was a little different it was more upbeat though also had a bit more of a robotic filter over it than before, though he still kept his accent.

“Why don’t you tell me what your name is.” He said twirling her a bit making her giggle as he stood back up bottom set of arms resting on his hips as he leaned on his cane.

“You don’t remember my name? I’m hero remember RGB?” She asked confused by her guides sudden change in behavior but was also amused by how silly he was being.

“Hero? Hm, well you do look like a hero my dear. I also feel I’ve heard that name before” he tapped his ‘chin’ with his free hand before shrugging. “I’m sure it will come to me and, my names not RGB” he said wiggling a finger on the hand that was just tapping his ‘chin’ before he out stretched his right arms and his left hands rested on his chest as he bowed.

“My names is Multichrome, but you came simply call me Chrome” he said standing up and then looking around at their surrounding, “well this is quite a peaceful area don’t you think? It feels like a I just ran a marathon” he said exaggerating his words by bumping his knees together and putting a hand to his head like he was feeling over heated or tired. “Why don’t we sir for a while and rest and then find you an exit” he said booping her nose making her giggle as she nods and he offered her his hand from one of his lower set of arms and they went to a lovely patch of flowers and sat and talked. How long? They didn’t know as it seemed to stay bright forever in that area though the two had eventually fallen asleep, Chrome was laying on his back two of his arms behind his head the other two resting on his stomach. While hero had used the new version of her guide she mets chest as a pillow.

Hero guessed when she woke she would be laying on RGB not Chrome, though she did hope to meet the wacky TV headed man again someday, she did want to leave the strange world yet, she wanted to help RGB save it. For now though she dreamed sweet dreams with the Tv headed man’s vest over her like a blanket. listening to the quite static hum from the tv man’s chest.

#tpoh #tpoh au #the property of hate #tpoh hero #rgb tpoh #liminal space au multichrome #liminal space au

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2nd2ndalto · 1 year

Text

When I Get Home to You

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 here

Will chokes out everything he remembers, or at least everything leading up to the moment he realized this kid was his husband.

Nico has pulled the footstool up to sit at Will’s feet, their knees bumping, one of Will’s hands clutched tight in both of his. By the look on Nico’s face, he still clearly doesn’t understand why Will’s quite so upset, but he’s being incredibly patient, and he’s trying. Will can always, always count on him for that. Nico passes the glass of water back into Will’s hand and waits for him to take another sip.

“So, that still doesn’t explain the sword…” Nico says tentatively.

“I know. It doesn’t,” Will sighs, retrieving his hand from Nicos’ so he can pull off his glasses and scrub both his own hands across his face.

“Nico…” There doesn’t seem to be a good way to put this. “He had the sword.” Will nods towards the unconscious boy.

Nico’s brow furrows. He glances over at the kid passed out on the couch. “He had the…”

Then Nico blinks, rises. He steps towards the couch as if he’s in a daze, seemingly taking in the young boy’s clothes, his hair, for the first time. “Will,” he says quietly, but he doesn’t turn. Instead he slowly crouches down, carefully brushes the boy’s hair off his face.

“Oh shit,” he breathes.

“Is it…” Will begins.

Nico leans back, a shaky hand over his mouth. “That’s not possible, though. How - Will, can you tell me everything again? Don’t leave anything out.”

Will does. By the time he’s finished talking, Nico has risen to his feet, though he doesn’t look any steadier. “I still don’t understand.”

“Yeah. Neither do I.”

“And he’s not… I don’t know. A monster? Some kind of shape-shifter?”

Will shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I felt him. I healed him. He felt like... well, like you. And if he’d wanted to hurt me, he had the opportunity. What - what do you think?”

Nico stills for a moment, then shakes his head as if to clear it. “I’m not getting a monster vibe.”

Will nods. He’s almost positive this kid is just a kid.

Nico exhales slowly, running his hand through his dark, overgrown hair, just long enough to scrape into a ponytail now. “How - what do we - what are we supposed to do now? He can’t stay here. I mean - not here-here but now-here. Fuck.”

Will’s trying to remember everything sci-fi has ever taught him about time travel. He thinks his media consumption should have prepared him for such an eventuality, but right now he’s drawing a complete blank. “I guess you don’t remember this happening to you? In your past?”

Nico shakes his head mutely.

“Do we take him to Camp?”

Nico takes a shaky breath. “Um. No. I don’t think so. Not yet. It feels wrong to - involve more people than necessary.”

He approaches the boy on the couch again, staring down at him with a hand over his mouth. After a moment Will rises, moves to place his hand on Nico’s shoulder. Nico covers it with his own, and once again Will feels his body warm with Nico’s now energy - yes, a little off-kilter at the moment, but strong, steady.

“Fuck, I was a skinny little punk,” Nico laughs weakly, his voice wavering.

Will wraps the dark-haired man in his arms, both taking a moment to breathe.

“Okay, how about this.” Nico steps away, looking a little more collected. “I go to Camp. You stay here with… me,” he tilts his head at the unconscious boy on the couch. “I’ll talk to Chiron, see what he thinks. And I’ll be back as soon as I can. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Will nods. “That probably makes the most sense. And I guess I’ll just -” he gestures vaguely at the kid next to them.

“Do your best to keep him here,” Nico says. “Please.”

“Of course.”

And then Nico’s in motion, collecting his sword from the umbrella stand in the hallway, grabbing his jacket off the hook by the back door. Will stands in the middle of the living room, feeling a little lost and a lot exhausted.

Nico glances back towards Will and then crosses the distance between them. Kisses him, cupping Will’s face with both hands. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”

And then he’s gone, disappearing into the shadow in the kitchen. ___

The house seems suddenly and unnaturally quiet with Nico gone. Will wanders back over to the boy on the couch, watching him almost without breathing. He doesn’t want to risk disturbing the boy by touching him - never mind that he still hasn’t figured out what to say to him when he wakes. But younger-Nico’s breathing is deep and regular, and his colour is good. He doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger. Sticks seems to have taken supervision of the boy as her personal mission, and she’s stretched out next to the couch on her side, her breath deep and regular as well.

Will rubs a hand over his short, scruffy beard. He needs to change his clothes. And then there are exams to be marked. Hopefully he can turn his mind to that for a while.

___

It’s almost two hours later when Will hears movement from the living room. There’s shifting on the couch and then the thump-thump-thump of Sticks’ tail on the hardwood floor. Will walks into the living room to see Nico sitting up on the couch, looking rumpled and bemused, Sticks’ head nudging bossily into his lap.

“Hey,” Will lifts a hand in greeting, doing his best to look non-threatening. “How’re you feeling?”

Nico squeezes his eyes shut as if trying to clear his vision. “Who are you? Where am I?”

He looks confused and a bit lost, but not nearly as nervous as before. Will supposes his surroundings look safe enough - warm yellow light spilling from the lamps in the cozy living room, a slightly overweight labrador wagging against his knee. Will has left the kid’s sword lying across the coffee table, just in case he feels the need to be armed.

“Well, I’m Will - I'm a demigod, in case that wasn't obvious. And this is my house. You’re safe here,” he adds. Unsure whether or not he should, he takes a few steps closer and holds out his hand.

The boy gives him a long look before tentatively reaching out to shake it. This time, Will’s braced himself, and he’s far more prepared for Nico’s energy. The kid’s still feeling over-exerted, but the wound has started healing well enough.

Will steps back to perch on the edge of the loveseat. “Um. Can I ask how much you remember? About what happened earlier?”

Nico rubs his eyes. “There was a monster. I guess it clawed me? I killed it. And then you showed up.”

Will takes a deep breath. Nico’s generally a lot more forthcoming now, but Will has just been painfully reminded of the Nico of 25-ish years ago. Getting any information from him was like pulling teeth. “And what were you doing… here?” Will asks. “As in, here in California?”

Nico frowns. “California? Is that where we are?”

Will nods. “That’s not where you were planning on travelling to?”

“No, I was aiming for Connecticut. Hey wait - you said you knew me. You knew my name. But I don’t know you.” Nico's eyebrows rise in surprise as Sticks makes an ungainly leap onto the couch, dropping her head heavily into his lap.

Will sighs. “Oh, sorry about her. She’s a menace. Do you want me to -” he makes to rise, yank the dog off the couch, but Nico shakes his head.

“No, it’s okay.” He scratches Sticks’ ears, and she nuzzles contentedly against him. “Um. Animals don’t usually like me.”

Will smiles. “Well, she’s a good judge of character.”

This coaxes a near-smile from Nico, and Will is reminded how rare those were, back in the day. How hard he worked to get more of them. The actual truth is that Sticks is particularly attached to now Nico, and that’s probably why she’s decided this boy is family too. But that can wait.

“Anyway,” Will shakes the memories off for now. “So the real problem, unfortunately, is that it seems you’ve… not just ended up in the wrong state.”

Nico glances up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Will presses his lips together. “Do you know what the date is?”

“I’m not quite sure. But around… September 7th?”

“Close enough,” Will agrees, “it’s the eighth. But what’s the year?”

Nico furrows his brows. “It’s 2009.”

“So, unfortunately not.”

“What?” Nico’s hand stills on Sticks’ head.

“Um. It’s 2034.”

Nico’s eyes go wide, and Will waits, trying to give him a moment to process. His gaze flickers over the boy's jacket hanging off his thin shoulders, the sharp lines of his collarbones. Dark hair falling into his eyes. Finally, the boy shakes his head. “Like, two thousand thirty-four? Twenty… Is that twenty-five years? That’s not possible.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t think so.”

“So what… how did this happen? What do I do? I really need to go,” he says, starting to look panicked. “I was just - I have to -” He makes to rise from the couch, but winces as he puts weight on his injured leg and sits back down again.

“Okay, just hold on,” Will tries to use a calming tone, “we don’t know how you got here, but we’re trying to figure it out. And I really think you should stay put until we do. I mean, this is kind of unprecedented, right? If you try to leave, I don’t know where you’ll end up.”

Nico’s shoulders slump, and his gaze drops to his feet. For a moment Will thinks he might start crying. When Nico looks up again though, there aren’t any tears, but he looks even more lost, and gods Will just wants to gather him into his arms.

“It felt… different,” Nico says haltingly. “When I shadow-travelled.” He takes a shaky breath.

Will leans forward in his seat, hands clasped, the gesture a poor substitute for a hug. “Did it? Different how?”

“I don’t know,” Nico shakes his head, now resuming his scratching of Sticks’ ears. She makes a satisfied mmph. “I guess it was harder? The air felt thicker, or something. It took a lot out of me. It’s hard to explain. Have you ever shadow-travelled?”

And his dark, dark eyes make Will feel like he’s caught in a searchlight. “Um. Yeah.” He nods, trying for a smile. “I’ve been along for the ride once or twice.” Or maybe hundreds of times.

Nico’s brow furrows. “Okay. So, how do you know me? Do you know me in 2009 or…”

“Ah. Well,” Will’s stomach twists. And really this is what he should have been considering for the last two hours, instead of grading exams. What the fuck is he supposed to say? Well, you’re actually the love of my life - neat, right? seems like way too much to dump on this kid.

“Oh hey, you know what?” Will jumps up, crosses to the kitchen grabbing his phone from the counter.

“Hold on.” He opens his social media app. He knows he scrolled past it recently - yes, there it is. Austin had posted a “Throwback Thursday” photo - Will, Kayla and Austin, arm in arm in front of the infirmary, standing beside a hand-painted vaccine poster. Will supposes he was a skinny kid himself, back then. He gazes at the picture. Is he recognizable now, as that kid? His hair now is shorter, a bit darker. He holds out the phone for Nico to see.

“That’s me, at Camp. Pretty sure that was around 2009.”

It takes Nico a moment, but he says, “Oh!” in soft surprise. “Will. Will Solace?”

Will nods, taking the phone back. “That’s me.”

“I know you. You - you were nice to me.”

Well thank the gods for that - not that Will wouldn’t have been.

“We um… I mean - I think you haven’t been at Camp much, yet, if you’re from 2009?” Just how much is Will allowed to tell this kid? He doesn’t want to fill him in on every detail of his future, but he also wants to gain his trust, at least a little. “But you and I are friends at Camp, eventually. And then later.” Well, that’s putting it mildly, but it’ll have to do for now.

“Oh,” and again, Nico seems surprised. Confused. From what Will knows of Nico, he didn’t really have much in the way of friendships before he’d returned to Camp after Gaea.

“So you’ve shadow-travelled… with me?” and Nico still sounds like he can’t quite believe it.

Will smiles. “Yup.”

Nico blinks, maybe trying to imagine a scenario wherein that would be a possibility. “This is weird,” he says finally. “Even for demigods.”

Will nods. “You’re telling me. Anyway, I should probably take a look at your leg, if that’s okay. I had to stop the bleeding, back on campus. And you should probably have some ambrosia.”

Nico looks dubious, but Will pulls the footstool up to the couch and takes a seat. “Can I - can I take a look?”

The boy doesn’t answer right away, and Will doesn’t think he’s imagining the change in his posture, like he’s trying to retreat into himself.

“Hey.” He bumps the footstool back an inch, trying to create a bit more space between them. “I kind of remember that you didn’t - don’t much like people touching you. So that’s cool - I can keep it to a minimum. But I’d feel a lot better if I could take a look.”

Nico seems to relax a bit at that. He sighs, reaching down to pull up the leg of his jeans, wincing as the fabric brushes the gauze.

Will gently takes the gauze off. The wound is definitely looking better. “That’s good,” he murmurs. “You were bleeding quite a lot when I found you. Scared me a bit.”

Nico frowns, unsure. “Well, it’s fine. I usually heal fast.”

Will shoots him a smile. “Yeah. Okay, I’m just going to touch your leg a little, right here,” he shows the boy, “just check your health bar and whatnot. Is that okay?”

“My… what?”

“Oh, sorry,” Will shakes his head. “That’s what I tell my nieces and nephews. It’s like - a video game thing.” Stupid. Even now Nico is always a little further behind on tech than his peers.

The boy looks suspicious but shifts his leg a fraction of an inch towards Will in consent.

Will places two fingers on either side of the wound. “Yup, it’s feeling much better. Good job healing,” he grins up at Nico. “Okay if I just send a little healing magic through? It’ll help you mend a bit faster. It’ll be less likely to get infected.”

“Um. Yeah. Okay.”

Will closes his eyes, and this is the harder part, where he has to go a little deeper. Where the sadness and loneliness bleed through and he has to grit his teeth to stop the tears springing to his eyes. He works as efficiently as he can though, hears Nico’s soft inhale as the heat spreads from Will’s fingers to the boy’s leg.

“Okay, good!” Will announces, trying a little too hard to sound bright, even. “That should heal up just fine. How does it feel?”

“Yeah. Better. Just a little sore.”

“Yeah, that’s normal. I think it’ll be a lot better in the morning. I’ll go grab a bandage and we can cover it up again.” Will hops up from the footstool and makes his way down the hall to the bathroom in search of the first aid kit.

When he returns, Sticks is still in Nico’s lap, but has now rolled entirely onto her back, begging for tummy rubs. Nico is obliging. Will laughs out loud and Nico gives him a shy smile.

“She’s really cute. What’s her name?”

“Oh - Sticks. But like s-t-i-c-k-s,” Will explains, sitting down to rebandage Nico’s leg. “Not like the river. And you know - dogs like sticks. It was supposed to be funny,” he shrugs. His Nico thought so anyway. Well, he at least thought it was eye-rolling-funny.

Will gives the boy’s leg a gentle pat and sits back, indicating that he’s done.

“Thanks,” Nico says softly, leaning to roll the leg of his jeans back down. The fabric is stiff with dried blood.

“You know,” Will muses, “we should probably find you something else to wear. Those jeans are in pretty bad shape. You should have something else to put on. I’m not sure how long you’ll be with us.”

“Us.” Nico’s brow furrows. “You mean you and... the dog?”

“Ah,” and wow, here’s a whole other minefield. “I actually meant me and my… um - my husband,” Will says lightly. Well. Tries. And Will can’t quite interpret the look that passes over the boy’s face, but it’s a little like panic, or shock. Both?

“Oh.” Nico’s eyes dart nervously around the room.

“He um…” Will begins, “he actually went to uh… to talk to Chiron. See what he thinks about this whole situation. I’m not sure when he’ll be back. Later tonight, I’d guess.”

The kid is looking a little cornered now, which can’t be helped, but Will’s all too aware that that look on his face often precedes flight.

“Yeah,” Will says, trying to sound light, positive. “You know, things are much better now for… um. Everyone…” he trails off.

What he’d been about to try to say was how the world is kinder for queer people in general, better even than it was a decade ago. But then he’d realized halfway through that this Nico isn’t out to anyone, as far as he knows. Gods, why does he have to talk so much?

Nico blinks, not seeming to have caught on, thankfully.

“Anyway,” Will says, changing tack. “I know you’re in a hurry to be on your way, and I promise we’ll get you out of here as soon as we can, okay? For now, though, why don’t we go find something to eat? You must be starving.” He stands. If he can't hug the kid, at least he can feed him.

Nico shrugs reluctantly.

“Come on,” Will holds out his hand without thinking, then immediately pulls it back at the look on the boy’s face. “Anything you want for dinner. My treat. McDonalds? Burger King?” That, at least, he remembers.

Nico’s face brightens a fraction. “That sounds okay, actually.”

The rest of the evening passes smoothly enough. They stop at McDonalds to eat, grab Nico a couple of changes of clothes at the mall. Will talks too much, mostly about nothing, trying to avoid sensitive topics, and Nico answers in monosyllables. It’s a little exhausting, to be honest. Will can’t help but feel relieved once Nico’s put himself to bed in the spare room. The kid really did look dead on his feet. Who could blame him. Will says a little prayer to his father that the boy will still be there in the morning.

Sticks has placed herself on guard outside Nico’s door, and Will steps around her on the way to his own bedroom. “Good girl,” he murmurs, bending down to rub the dog’s head.

___

It’s less than an hour later when Will hears a key in the front door and the familiar sounds of his Nico pulling off his boots and stowing his sword. Will’s propped up in bed next to a stack of books he’d hoped he might read. It hadn’t taken long before he’d given it up as a lost cause. He’s spent most of the last hour mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

“Hey,” Nico says softly, coming into the bedroom and pulling the door shut behind him. “He still here?”

Will drops his phone on the night table. “Yeah, sleeping. I put him in the spare room.”

“Good.” Nico approaches Will, dropping a kiss on the top of his head before pulling off his jeans and climbing into bed.

“Glad you made it back,” Will comments, brushing his husband’s bangs off his forehead. Nico’s eyes flutter closed at the touch. “I was a little worried you’d end up in 1995 or something.”

“Oh gods,” Nico blinks. “No, thankfully.”

“So, how did it go? What did Chiron think?”

“I don’t know,” Nico flops onto his back, looking a bit frustrated. “He didn’t…” Nico waves his hands in the air vaguely, “he didn’t sense a disturbance in the force. Or whatever.”

Will grins. “Seriously?”

“What?” Nico frowns, now looking a little defensive.

“Nothing,” Will smiles even wider. “Just that clearly, my work here is done.”

Nico groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Very funny. Nerd. I don’t know. He doesn’t suspect godly interference, I guess.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. Helpful as usual.” Nico shakes his head. “Anyway. How did your evening go?” he rolls onto his side so he can look at Will. “Sorry if I was a dick to you while I was gone.”

Will snorts. “No, you were - he was fine. You know. He’s just a scared, lonely kid.” Will sighs, reaching for Nico’s hand.

“He woke up, I guess?”

“Yeah. We talked a bit, I redressed his wound. We went out to grab some food and some fresh clothes for him,” Will shrugs. “Sticks really likes him.”

Nico smiles. “That’s because she’s the best. Thanks for looking after me.” He squeezes Will’s hand.

Will squeezes back. “Good thing I’m good at looking after you.”

“Did he have any idea how he ended up out of his own time?”

“No…” Will explains what the boy had told him about the shadow travel, that he hadn’t ended up where he’d planned.

“That’s weird,” Nico gazes into the middle distance. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think more about that. I’ve sometimes ended up off course, but time hasn’t ever been an issue.”

“You don’t think… Kronos?” Will asks tentatively.

Nico’s brow furrows. “I don’t think so? Hopefully not. Hey, maybe this time it’s something simple!” he laughs weakly.

The two gaze at each other for a long moment before Will shifts forward, dropping Nico’s hand so he can cup his cheek. He kisses him slow and warm, noses nudging, soft sighs mingling, slow heat building. Nico’s hand rises to settle on Will’s hip. When Will gently sucks Nico’s lower lip into his mouth, his husband lets out a contented sigh. Will pushes forward, rolling Nico onto his back and settling on top of him, gently nudging his thigh between his husband’s legs. Nico’s arms rise to wrap loosely around Will’s waist and Will presses careful kisses to Nico’s jaw line, under his ear.

“Hey Will,” Nico says gently.

“Mmm?” Will pulls back to look at him, already feeling blurry and dazed.

“That feels really good, but I um… I feel kind of weird about… fooling around… when I’m in the next room.”

“Oh shit, of course.” Will backs off immediately, flopping onto his back beside Nico, taking in an unsteady breath. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Nico rolls towards him, throwing an arm over his chest. “You don’t have to like, sleep on the couch or anything. It’s just… weird. I don’t know.”

“No, no, I get it,” Will sighs. “Sorry. I just… ugh. I just wanted to give that kid a hug so badly. I guess I took it out on you.”

Nico kisses his shoulder. “I don’t mind. You don’t ever need to apologize for touching me. And yeah, he needs a hug. Or twenty.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Well. I thought we could talk to Hazel tomorrow. And… I don’t know if he’ll have any ideas, but Percy was supposed to stop by.”

Will nods, gaze on the ceiling. “Yeah, it’s worth a try, I guess. I mean, we can’t keep him here indefinitely. Otherwise… you wouldn’t be here. Now. Right?” Gods, this is making his head hurt.

Nico nods slowly. “Yeah, I would guess that’s how it would work.”

Will twines his fingers with Nico’s where they’re resting on his stomach. “Are you going to tell him who you are?”

Nico blinks. “Fuck. Right. I don’t know. I guess you didn’t?”

Will shakes his head. “I didn’t want to overwhelm him. I was afraid he’d bolt. I mentioned my husband, and that you - he - and I knew each other. From Camp. But I didn’t get any further into it than that.”

Will turns to press a kiss to Nico’s lips. “I suppose there’s not much we can do tonight anyway. Why don’t we try to get some sleep and then we’ll look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow. Everything’s easier in the daylight.”

Nico hums. “You’re so smart. I knew there was a reason I married you.”

Will laughs. He pushes himself up to turn off the bedside light, then pulls the blankets up more snugly over both of them. “Um. Are you okay with taking shirts off?” he asks hesitantly. “I just - I’m just really feeling like I need to be close to you right now.”

“Yeah, of course,” Nico murmurs, immediately sitting up to yank his t-shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly to the floor

“Promise not to try to seduce you,” Will murmurs as he pulls off his own shirt and wraps an arm around his husband, settling his head under Nico’s chin.

Nico hums against his hair. “I’ll take a rain check on the seduction.”

“‘Kay.”

And gods, Nico is warm and grounding, and he smells like Nico, his energy so much more tethered than his younger counterpart’s. The skin-on-skin contact calms Will the way it always does. He drifts off to sleep feeling safe, solid.

#nico di angelo #will solace #my writing #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #solangleo #multi chapter #time travel #rated teen

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hotforharrysheart · 1 year

Text

The Headlands

It was a mild cloudy morning. The clouds moving in the sky made the light through the windows slowly dim and brighten, dim and brighten. You lay in the same position you remember going to sleep in last night, head on Harry’s chest, arm draped across his abdomen. The gray duvet tucked around you both, pillows strewn about the bed.

Harry turns his head toward the windows in his sleep just as a cloud moves away from the sun and beams of light flood the room. His nose crinkles as the light shines on his face. He turns his head to find your hair piled on his shoulder. Rather than push it away, he smiles, dives in and inhales deeply. She smells like the sunshine blinding my sleep, he thinks to himself as he runs his hand along the arm you have draped across him, your skin so soft against his guitar string callused fingers. Eyes still closed he turns his body slightly towards you and places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. His mind fills with what he has planned for the day: Brunch with the Chapman’s at Marcy’s, a little special shopping with Ron, Helen’s gonna take you to the blue cottage for some kind of lesson with yarn, then meet back up. Maybe Ron know’s something about the resorts on the beach, seems like a couple of days on the beautiful beaches of Cornwall would be spectacular during this time off. Anything to get my girl in a bikini…and then out of one…he thinks as he feels his cock wake up. You shift in your sleep, say his name softly and pull yourself closer to him, wrapping your leg a little tighter around his, your thigh tucked against his balls. Damn that feels better than it should, he thinks fluttering his eyes open for the first time. He sees the expanse of your golden skin…the heart shaped freckle on your shoulder…the way your breath feels brushing across his chest…his nipple. Pulling you in tight to him he breathes against the top of your head, "I love you," he mutters.

"Mmmm..." you moan in your sleep and wiggle just a little.

He turns you over in his arms, his body hovering over yours as you snuggle into the warmth of his body not bothering to open your eyes while sleep still calls you.

“Hey beau’iful,” he rasps in a deep, sleepy voice. He kisses your jaw down to your ear. “How ya feelin’ sleepyhead?”

“Mmmm dunno, still sleeping,” you slur raising your eyebrows, but still unable to open your eyes.

His hand runs under your waist and pulls you close to him, “Feel s’good, s’warm, I love ya.”

“I love you, I should brush my teeth,” you say trying to move your head to the side.

He follows your lips until he can reach them with his own. “Me too, wanna kiss ya worse though. Kiss me.” His lips find yours and his tongue licks along your bottom lip causing you to moan and brighten up slightly from your sleep. You open for him and accept his kiss, his desire. Pulling you closer he slots his leg between yours and runs his thigh along your cleft.

“Mmmm...mmm,” you moan into his mouth. Your nipples tighten as he slides down just slightly to get better access to your mouth.

He kisses along your jaw to your ear, “Babe, ya dinna answer? How ya feelin’?”

“I’m good, you’re so warm…” you sigh as he laves your earlobe.

“Are…Are ya sore? Was hard on ya last nigh’.”

“Mmm-hmm, deliciously so…but maybe you can make it better, you think?”

“Mmmmm, think I can do somethin’ ta make ya feel better,” he says squeezing your bum before drawing his hand along your side to your breast. He gently cups, squeezes and thumbs your nipple, “Nipple’s hard, ya cold?”

You pull you head back and open your eyes for the first time, shake your head and say, “No, Harry, not cold.”

He smiles and rests his forehead on yours, “Ya warm?”

“Mmm-hmm, I’m hot and achy…”

“Where’s it ache baby?”

“Hurts lower,” you say closing you eyes and pouting out your bottom lip.

He loves this face, this sleepy-I-want-you-so-much face. “Here?” he says rubbing your tummy

You shrug, “Kinda there, but keep going…”

Kissing down your neck and then back up to your ear, “Does ma baby ache here?” he says running his hand down to palm between your legs.

You nod and stretch your head back taking in a deep breath causing your breasts to push up. He can’t resist kissing your breast and sucking a nipple into his mouth. You break out in goosebumps, your skin feels alive even though deep down your body is still languid with sleep. His hand cupping your pussy, you pull your knee up and out as his leg still has one trapped below it.

“Baby, wan’ ya so much,” he murmurs against your breast rolling over to rest his weight on you as you cradle his hips between your thighs. You can feel his hardness pressed against your slit. Wanting to feel him even closer you raise your knees on either side of him, opening you up enough to feel him pressed against your clit. “Don’ wanna hurt ya, Jezebel. Thin’ ya can take me?”

“Harry…,” you run your arms up his back and into his hair, threading your fingers and eventually fisting the curls, “I love that I have more hair to hold onto.”

“Mo’ ta tug on…love tha’,” he says closing his eyes with a smirk as you tug a bit.

You lean forward to whisper in his ear, “I want you inside me Harry, I’m not too sore, I can take you…I’ll always take you…hurry, honey…need you.”

“Ya wet? Lemme see,” he says reaching between you to slide his hand, his middle finger, through your slit, over your clit and straight inside your channel.

You can’t help but clench on his finger, “Oooo, right there, H,” you say as he finds your g-spot. He rubs the spongey wall and that combined with his weight on your tummy is an exquisite delight.

Lips against yours he whispers, “God, I fuckin’ love it when I find tha’ spot, our spot…MY spot. This place,” he wiggles his finger, “will always be like comin’ home.”

You slide your hands around to cup his cheeks and can’t help the swivel of your hips, “Feels so good,” you open your legs and pulling your knees up even higher chasing even more sensations. “Please, Harry…inside,” you whimper quietly.

He pulls his finger out and positions his cock at your entrance, but rather than push in immediately he holds his cock using the pre-cum to rim the circle of your entrance then just holds there as his wet finger runs gentle circles on your swollen clit. The feel of his cockhead just there, but not inside and the stimulation of your clit has your empty channel rushing with wetness. “Eyes on me, love…,” he says as he presses forward and his cockhead pops inside. You whimper slightly. “’S hurt?”

“It’s a little sore, not gonna lie, H. You’re a big man…and…” you say, then exhale and lift your hips pushing more of him inside, “but, I love this feeling…knowing you’re this close.”

He pushes one arm under you to pull you closer, his other hand pulling yours from his neck so he can thread his fingers with yours and pin your hand to the mattress bent just over your head. You squeeze his hand as he pushes in deeper, his forehead pressed to yours. “’F it gets ta be ta much ya tell me, yeah?”

Your mouth opens slack as he pushes in slowly, the walls of your pussy more sensitive than you expected after last night. “Hahh..ahhhh…mmmm.”

“Tight, babe, ya alright?”

“Yeah, I’m swollen…,” you pant, “feel everything…but I like it when I’m this sensitive, can feel you everywhere. It’s you…it’s you inside me and sometimes it’s still so new…,” you swallow a lump in your throat, “thought about this for so long…”

He presses his lips to yours as he pushes the last few inches in and then flexes his hips pushing in just that much farther. He slants his head to take the kiss deeper. You open your mouth to take his tongue has he slides it into your mouth just like his cock is slid in deep.

“Never thought being inside ya would feel this fuckin’ good…s’wet an’ warm, fit so deep…wrap ya legs ‘round me.” You do as he asks and in the process flex around him, “Uuuuhhh, Christ!” he sputters and pull his knees up close to your bum so he can stay deep. He grinds his hips and swivels just enough to take your breath away. His eyes are wide and so close to yours his face is blurry, his nose tucked against yours, his mouth wide over yours. But unlike other times, he’s trembling…shivering….

“Harry? You ok?”

“Oh baby, I’m perfect, it’s jus’,” he shakes his head, “…jus’ don’ know ‘f ya’ll ever understand how much ya mean ta me…this isn’ jus’ a shag…last night wasn’ jus’ a fuck…this is s’real an’ taday, I…I…jus’ don’t wanna forget these moments.”

You feel the drop on your cheek as you look into his watery eyes. “Just don’t stop loving me, please.”

He pulls out and pushes back in, “Jesus baby, could never….” His in and out movements pick up but stay deep and slow. “’S good?”

“Yes, so good, don’ stop…stay deep just like that…,” you arch your back tightening down on him.

“S’fuckin’ good, s’fuckin’ good on me,” he says just before he steals a passionate kiss then buries his head in your shoulder, his mouth close to your ear. “I love ya, I love ya so much, wanna give ya tha world, wanna make our dreams come true…come on ma love, give it to me, please…wanna feel ya cum on me. ‘m so close, baby an’ I can tell ya are too…’no ya body an’ ‘no ya tummy’s flutterin’ an’ ya tightenin’ on me…”

“Yes, Harry, hahh..hahh…don’ st…stop, IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou…Yes, Yes, Yes,” you say, your whisper going up an octave as you rock back and forth as one entity on the bed.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck…FUCK!” he pushes in deep and stills his body shaking and his grip trembling. “Baby, oh, baby, baby…I love ya s’ much.”

“Don’t pull out…please don’t…not yet,” you whisper, pulling and scratching at his back with your free hand. “Don’t wanna lose this feeling.”)

“Shh, Shh…baby, s’ok. ‘M not goin’ anywhere,” he says as your loosen your grip. “’S ok,” he says kissing your cheek and holding his lips there.

You start to relax a little and feel his and your combined cum leaking from around his softening cock.

He slips from you and you whimper at the loss of him filling you up.

“Ya ok baby?” he says searching your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Just promise you won’t stop waking me up this way, means so much to me. I love starting the day feeling your love so deeply.”

He pushes his forehead against yours. “I swear ta ya, Jezebel. I’ll always wake ya up like this…as long as you’ll let me,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips and running his tongue along your lips.

“Mmmm…” You say as you let him in and his tongue tangles with yours, your fingers once again tugging his curls.

“As much as I’d like ta take ya again, Jezebel we’ve go’ a brunch date wi’ Ron an’ Helen, bu’ fuck, ya don’ make it easy on me do ya?”

You giggle and kiss his jaw, teeth scraping along his stubble. “Probably for the best. I need some recovery time, mister,” you say, pressing another kiss to his neck.

“Alrigh’, give ya time ta recover. Need ya ready fo’ me later.”

You sigh as your tummy flutters. “Let’s get up then.”

He puffs air out of his mouth and gets up causing the cool air of the room to hit your skin and you shiver.

You get up and and follow him to the en-suite and you smile as you ogle him as he turns the shower on.

“Ya gon’ stand there an’ stare or are ya gon’ join me in the shower?”

“Why can’t I do both?” You ask, coming up behind him, hands caressing his swallows. You kiss between his shoulder blades, admiring the feel of his muscles under your lips.

He closes his eyes. Gonna be hard to keep my hands off of her, he thinks.

“I know what you’re thinking, H.”

“Ya do?”

“Mmmm…you don’t have to keep your hands to yourself…just keep it Rated R instead of NC-17.”

He laughs his breathy little laugh. “C’mon Jezebel,” he says pulling you into the shower.

After a very steamy shower filled with an even steamier makeout session, you’re both ready and he grabs your hand as you walk out the door to your pink cottage and down the sidewalk into town and finally into Marcy’s Cafe. You close your eyes in contentment at the smell of warm baked goods and coffee.

Harry can’t help but smile at the blissed out look on your face. He spots Ron and Helen and he leads you through the cafe until you get to their table.

“It’s about time you got here,” Ron says after you all exchange greetings.

“It’s his fault.”

“It’s her fault.”

You and Harry say at the same time.

“Oh, you two!” Helen says, giggling.

Harry kisses your forehead. “We’ll, we’re here now an’ it’s good ta see ya. Ya hungry?”

They both nod and Harry signals to the waitress that you’re ready to order.

“So whaddya girls go’ planned?” Harry says taking a final sip of coffee after you’ve all eaten.

“I’m teaching our sweet girl how to crochet,” Helen says.

“Is tha’ righ’?”

You nod. “What’re you two up to? That’s the question!” You say, looking at Harry expectantly.

He laughs his breathy little laugh. “‘S a surprise, woman. Promise ya’ll know soon enough,” he says, kissing your temple.

You hmph. “Let’s go Helen and leave these boys to their secrets.”

Helen giggles. “Oh, Ya’ve done it now, Harry.”

He smirks, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I get a kiss befo’ I go at least?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I suppose,” you say and kiss him on the cheek.

He rolls his eyes as Ron and Helen giggle.

“Go on, sweet girl. Give him a real kiss goodbye. We’ll be right outside,” Helen says, getting up and dragging Ron out of the booth with her.

You smile and turn back to Harry. “Helen’s orders,” you say leaning in and pressing your lips to his.

You don’t want to stop kissing him but the Chapmans are waiting so you reluctantly pull away. “I’ll miss you. Go ahead and do your secret errand and I’ll see you later,” you say against his lips.

You slide out of the booth and he follows you through the cafe and out to the sidewalk.

He and Ron watch you and Helen walk down the sidewalk towards the blue cottage.

“So wha’ kinda shoppin’ are we doin’ today?”

Harry stuffs his hands in his back pockets. “Ring shoppin’.”

Ron smiles. “So ya gon’ put a ring on our sweet girls finger then?”

Harry nods. “Yeah. Wan’ a ring from a local here.”

“Ya could get a ring from anywhere. Why here?” Ron asks, scratching his head.

“Cornwall means a lot ta us. I rented the pink cottage for our first trip here an’ ever since it’s been our special bubble. The ring needs ta be from here.”

“I understand. There’s a jeweler just down the way. His family has been here for generations.” Ron smiles. “I’m proud of ya, young man,” Ron says throwing his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “Thanks Ron. Appreciate it.”

Ron introduces Harry to Declan who owns the shop.

“What’re ya lookin’ for?”

Harry puffs air out of his lips. “I need an engagement ring and wedding ring.”

“Well, congratulations are in order then!”

Harry smiles. “Only if she says yes.”

Declan laughs. “Ya go’ me there, Harry.”

“There’s somethin’ else. I don’ know if ya know who I am, bu’ I need this ta be confidential. This can’ get out ta the press.”

Declan sighs. “I know who ya are. Recognized ya as soon as ya came in. We keep our selves ta ourselves ‘round here,” he says moving to the door and turning the sign around to closed. “Now, let’s pick out a ring fo’ the lucky lady.”

“Thank ya.”

Declan pulls out a tray of rings and sets it on the counter. “Wha’ kinda ring do ya think she migh’ like?”

Harry furrows his brows. There’s so many, he thinks.

“Platinum or gold might help us narrow the selection down,” Declan says gently.

“Gold. Definitely gold,” Harry says licking his lips.

“Perfect,” he says as he removes the current tray and pulls out two more.

“She’d wan’ something unique…no’ ya typical ring.”

Declan smiles. “Ahhh yes!” He moves to another counter. “Come this way.”

Harry moves to the other counter as the shop owner pulls out three trays of rings.

“These are our more unique designs. Some beautiful Art Deco designs as well.”

Harry’s eyebrows go up. He remembers you talking about your love of Art Deco when you were in Prague. “Show me the Art Deco rings.”

Declan removes trays and then grabs another tray and places it on the counter.

Harry picks up several rings placing them on his fingers imagining each one on your finger. He’s narrowed it down to two. “It’s one of these. No’ sure which one yet. Can ya hold these fo’ me until I decide?”

Declan smiles. “Of course, sir,” he says, placing them in a velvet bag. “Excellent choices. I know she’ll be pleased whichever one ya choose,” he says sticking out his hand.

Harry shakes his hand. “Thank ya. I should know by tomorrow.”

“That’ll be fine. You’ll have to tell me her ring size so I can size it properly fo’ ya.”

Harry nods.

“Pleasure ta meet ya, Harry.”

Harry chuckles. “Nice ta meet ya. Thank ya fo’ everythin’. I’ll be in touch.”

“Have a nice day. Ron,” Declan says, shaking his hand.

“How d’ya feel?” Ron asks as they walk down the sidewalk to the blue cottage.

Harry smiles his biggest smile. “I feel great. Hey…do ya know a resort place wi’ a beach?”

Ron smiles. “I know jus’ tha place. C’mon, let’s go see our girls, yeah?”

Harry smiles. “Can’ wait.”

Meanwhile, you and Helen are deep in conversation back at the blue cottage.

“Alright, sweetheart, I thought it would be good idea to start out stitching a simple Afgan. I love the mindlessness of just a half-treble stitched blanket, it’s simple and works up pretty fast. And if you wanna find some wool you like for a more complicated project we can work on when you are we can do that as well. But I made you a quilted bag for ya to carry your wool and hooks in and you can take this with you to work on while you travel. I know ya busy with your podcast, which by the way, I’m looking forward to the next episode of your “Alone in Denali Park” series, Ronnie and I are dying to know who is the secret witness that finally came forward, and that Detective Brown, he’s just…amazing and,” Helen cups her hand next to her mouth, “he has a very, um…sexy voice.”

You can’t help but cackle at Helen’s cuteness as Helen blushes furiously at her own comment.

“Anyway, ignore me, honey, I know ya busy, but you will find when you have some thinking to do, if you pick up your hook and wool and begin stitching, you’ll be settling in with a clear head and next thing you know you have your thoughts straightened out and a project completed. I have a really beautiful ombre wool that I think you would really love, reminds me of the sunset.”

Helen takes you to her craft room and pulls out the most beautiful burnt brick red to peach colored ombre yarn that absolutely looks like the sun setting on a warm summer day. “Helen, this is gorgeous! You sure you don’t mind me using it?” you exclaim throwing your arms around her neck.

“No darling, I think it’s perfect for your first project. This is a 4 worsted-weight yarn and you’ll use a size 6 hook. Here is a Boye hook, they’re my favorite and this is the one I learned with and it will be the one you use to learn with…it’s yours honey, I want you to have this bag of wool, this hook and these stitch markers. Now normally you have a pattern to use, but because we are doing a simple blanket, I’ll just teach you the basic half-treble stitch and you’ll use it over and over, row after row, until you have a blanket the size you want!” Helen is beaming with excitement and joy to share her talent with you.

“I’m so excited, this is gonna be so fun for times while I’m on a plane, or in a car, or waiting sat atop a sound box while Harry does his rockstar thing,” you kid.

“Ya gonna be great at it. So first we make a magic loop, like this…good job…then ya gonna make a chain of 180 stitches this will be the width of your Afgan. To chain you grab the yarn with the hook, yarn over like this and pull through, and we’re gonna do that 180 times. Sounds like a lot, but ya’ll be surprised how quickly they add up and once you have this chain made and a couple of rows completed, you won’t have to count the stitches.” After a bit you have your 180 chains made using the beautiful wool. “Great job, Ok, love, now ya just count back one stitch, put your hook in here, just like that…great job, then yarn over, pull up a loop, yarn over again and pull the loop through all the loops on your hook. Perfect! Ya did it and ya just gonna do that all the way down the line, then once you get to the end, you are gonna chain two and flip your work.”

Your eyebrows furrow in concentration as you make a couple of attempts with Helen’s guidance before finally getting the hang of it. Before you know it and hour and half has gone by and you have two rows completed on your blanket. “Helen! Oh my goodness, I just finished the second row and it’s already looking like a blanket!” you squeal with excitement at your creation that doesn’t look anything close to a blanket in reality.

Helen giggles and wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Yes, love, it does and ya’ve done a fine job! I’m so proud of how quickly ya’ve picked this up; keep going, darling,” Helen says pushing her glasses up her nose and taking a closer look at your stitching. “So, how are things going with you and Harry? You two making it alright while you’re travelling?”

“Yeah, it was hard to get used to, but I’m settled and we’re making it work pretty well, if I do say so myself. It’s not easy, but we’re doing quite well. Poor Harry, he had this blackout night planned for us at the cottage, but he had no idea I was terrified of the dark, it’s never really come up until the lights just went out yesterday and I kinda freaked on him,” you say with a shrug.

“Honey, have you always been afraid of the dark?”

“Yeah, but mostly just having to move around in the dark…I don’t like stumbling around and having to feel my way through a room, dunno exactly why, but I think it has something to do with my childhood. I’ve been having a lot of memories flash through my head lately about my parents,” you say with a sigh.

“Well, my love, those things tend to creep up sometimes if they were really emotional moments. I know even now, all these years later, I still think about the baby boy Ronnie and I lost when I was seven months pregnant. I almost died when we lost Daniel, and then to find out I could never get pregnant again, I thought I might’ve wished I had died. But my Ronnie wouldn’t have let that happen. It’s best not to run from those memories, it’s best to face them, feel them and work on making them something precious rather than nightmarish.” Helen looks up to find tears rolling down your cheeks, “Oh, honey don’t cry, all things happen for a reason and our baby Daniel is always with us, he’s in the butterflies that swarm my garden, the Hydrangeas that bloom and a little bit of him is in you and Harry and what love you have brought to our lives. I just hope you know you can talk to me about anything, anytime and whenever you’re ready. I love you sweet girl, you and Harry are my babies now!” she says leaning down from her rocking chair to where you are sitting crosslegged on the floor to kiss your forehead.

“Hey Doll!” You hear Ron call out from the open half-door in the front room.

“Hi Ronnie, we’re in Daniel’s room!” she calls out as she rises to go find her lover.

Harry spots you on the floor and walks over, joins you on the floor, leans in to your neck, “Hey doll…” he whispers through a smirk.

You giggle and shrug your shoulder at this tickle of his breath, “Hi honey,” you say goosebumps on your neck. “Look what I made! It’s a blanket!”

“Oh wow, tha’s a really tiny blanket, babe…,” he teases.

You giggle, “Well, it’s gonna be a blanket, what do you think?”

“I love tha colors! ‘S like a sunset…” he comments.

“I know right?!” you say smiling at him.

“Where’s my kiss?” he says nuzzling his nose along your ear.

You turn your head and capture his lips as he brings his hand to your cheek to deepen the it. He’s leaning forward into your body when you almost fall backwards.

“What’s gotten into you mister?” you say pulling away and looking over his shoulder glad that Helen and Ron have left you alone.

“I jus love ya an’ ’m happy.”

“Well, I love you and I’m so very happy too.”

“Have a surprise fo’ ya, but ya need ta go pack a bag for a couple of nights and we have somewhere ta be by three p.m.” he says searching your eyes.

You wrap your arms around his neck, “Ooo, I do so love your surprises!”

“Good! Can ya take this with ya?” he says looking down at your hook and wool.

“Yes, Helen made me a bag to carry it all in. She’s so amazing, I love her so much, Harry!”

He looks behind him and then back to you, “Hey, who’s Daniel?” he whispers.

“I’ll tell ya about him later. Lemme gather this up and we can go get packed up.”

All gathered up, you both head out the door of the room looking for Ron and Helen. You find them locked in desperate lovers embrace, Ron’s hand on Helen’s bum, pulling her close and Helen with her fingers threaded in the graying hair on the back of Ron’s head.

Harry’s hand falls from the small of your back to your bum where he squeezes and you giggle causing them to break apart. Helen swiftly turns to the kitchen counter and Ron looks over with a wink.

“Kid’s…” Ron says nodding with grin.

“Yeah, we were abou’ ta head out,” Harry says through a smirk while you bite your bottom lip.

“We’ll keep an eye on things, you two enjoy y’selves an’ we’ll see ya back on Friday, yeah?” Ron says sliding his arm around Helen who’s blushing.

You both giggle at catching Ron and Helen canoodling as you walk down the sidewalk, arms around each other. You feel your phone buzz and you smile slyly to yourself and bury your face in his chest. He may have surprises but you have one on the way too.

You’re standing in front of your duffle on the bed shaking your head because you don’t even know what to pack. “H, what all do I need? I don’t even know where we’re going!”

He comes up behind you and you jump as his hands land on your hips, lips sliding down your neck. “Don’ need much. A casual dress, a fancy dress, and a teeny (kiss) tiny (kiss) bikini (kiss).”

You lean back into him and smile. “Where’re we going?”

“‘S a surprise bu’ I think ya’ll like it.”

“Mmm…I have a surprise too via parcel so I can’t leave until it gets here, that alright?”

“Wanna get there as soon as possible, bu’ yeah.”

You’re both packed and ready to go, duffels at the garage door and you’re sitting on the couch side by side scrolling through Instagram, keeping tabs on your friends and family.

Finally you get the notification that your package was delivered and you get up and go to the front door and grab it and place it on the table by the door. “Sorry that took so long. You ready?”

He stands up slowly. “‘S’ok, Jezebel. Like you, it’ll be worth the wait, ‘m sure,” he says smirking.

“It will be, promise,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Let’s go.”

It’s not a long drive and you enjoy the smell of saltwater as the Range Rover moves down the windy road to the shore, his hand warm on your thigh, burning up your skin through the material of your sundress.

You gasp as you see it. The Headlands. It’s a gorgeous resort sitting right on the beach and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen something so beautiful. “Here?! We’re staying here?!”

He smiles and pulls your hand to his mouth and kisses it. “Jus’ fo’ a couple of nights. Thought we could enjoy the beach, maybe go out on a yacht, get ya naked as much as I can,” he says pressing another kiss to your hand.

He drops the car off with the valet, the porter loads your duffels, and he grabs your hand as you walk through the doors.

“Are you here to check in?” A perky woman says.

“Uh, yeah. Reservation under Twist. Edward Twist.”

You love that he gives Robin’s last name. He would love that, you think.

“Of course, Mr. Twist. Your cottage is ready. James will show you the way and please feel free to contact us if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” he says as James says, “right this way, sir and madam.”

James opens the French doors to your suite and ushers you both in to a beautifully decorated room. It’s colored in antique white and cottage blue floral toile patterns with cottage/nautical shutters a big beautiful king poster bed with ornate ten foot upholstered headboard. The bathroom features a giant built in bathtub, detached double head shower stall with cedar benches, a giant double vanity and it’s own walk-in closet with cosmetic vanity. But best of all is the view from the balcony of the beautiful Fistral Beach. The cool breeze off the water sweeps through the room. Surfers are out catching waves and sun bathers are out catching rays both on the beach and around the beautiful outdoor pool. Two middle age women are setting up two massage beds on the balcony and a bottle of champagne is chilling along with a crystal bowl of cut fruit.

“The spa is setting up for your afternoon appointment, Mr. St..err..Twist,” James stutters nervously. “I’ll place your bags in the closet here. There are extra towels and blankets and a change of bedding in the closet. We have stocked your room with bottles of water and a variety of drinks, juices and snacks, as well as complimentary spa robes and slippers and a private selection of beach towels. If you need arrangements for anything, golf, surfing, water sports or day excursions, please feel free to contact me as I will be your personal concierge for the entirety of your stay at all hours. Here is my card, please contact me if you need anything,” James rattles off fidgeting with his jacket buttons.

You look over at Harry with pleading eyes and lean up to whisper, “Harry put this poor boy out of his misery, he knows….”

“James, sounds like ya aren’t from around here, am I right?” Harry comments with a side smile.

“No sir, I’m from Toronto.”

“Great people in Toronto…very friendly, kind and dependable people. Know we can count on ya ta be professional an’ maintain our privacy, can’ we?” Harry says pulling out his wallet.

James puts up his hand shaking it, “No need, sir, I understand and am bound professionally and…personally, to keep the privacy of my guests, you can rest assured that your stay will completely confidential.”

“Thank ya James, we appreciate you treating us the way you would want to be treated if you were in our shoes,” you say grabbing Harry’s hand and cuddling next to him.

“Yeah, thanks James, ‘s appreciated. Hey, umm…we’re interested in an overnight excursion out at sea, are any of the yachts at the dock available fo’ private parties an’ can we make arrangements for ya ta accompany us? Would rather keep this as private as possible an’ ‘s been my experience tha’ tha fewer people involved the easier it is ta control tha’,” Harry says squeezing your fingers and kissing your temple.

“I’m sure I can make that arrangement. I will get right on that and leave you a message regarding the details on your room voice messages. Any particular requests you might have just send a message via email to the email on the card by midnight and we can make every effort to accommodate you.”

“Won’t need much, nothin’ extravagant, ‘no it’s short notice, jus’ want some private time in the sun,” Harry says sliding his arm around your waist.

“And some sunscreen, if you can find us some, I didn’t pack any, didn’t expect to be in the sun.” you chime in.

“I will deliver some as soon as I get a bottle from downstairs, eh?”

You smile at him, “Thank you so much!”

“If that is all, I’ll leave you to your massages, please feel free to contact me for anything, no request is too small, I’m dedicated to you for the length of your stay…err, Mr. Twist.”

Harry reaches out to shake his hand, “Thank ya James, I’ll show ya out….”

As Harry walks him to the door you hear him tell James that he will find a nice cash tip waiting for him in an envelope at the end of your stay. You smile to yourself. It’s hard for Harry to find a place on the planet where he won’t be recognized, thankfully he can pay to have some privacy since he can’t exactly be afforded it otherwise.

You stand looking out the sliding door when Harry wraps his arms around your shoulders and resting his hands on your collarbones. You reach up to wrap your hands around his forearms. “That’s a sweet thing you did for him back there, H. You could tell he didn’t know what to do when he realized who you were.” You turn around and wrap your arms around his neck. “Think we can trust him?”

“I hope so, seems like…,” he says leaning down to kiss your ear. “No’ gonna worry abou’ it. Let’s go get our massage.” He says swatting your bum.

You both head to the bathroom to strip down and put on the fluffy white robe provided by the hotel. Well, it takes several tries to get the robe on because wandering hands keep you both distractedly occupied. Finally you make it to the balcony and Harry helps cover you as you stretch out face down on your massage table, then he pulls the sheet over himself once he gets on his own table. You lie with your head to one side rather than buried in the massage table headrest, just because you both want to be able to see each other.

“Thank you for this, H.”

“Ya welcome, babe.”

“I love you.”

“Love ya too.”

Forty-five minutes goes by and you’re both turned over and the ladies are finishing up your shoulders and collarbones. You feel like a bowl of jelly, head cocked to one side, you can’t keep your eyes of each other. Harry reaches out to grab your hand and squeezes. You try to ignore the other woman’s hands as they press, knead and rub on Harry’s shoulders and down to his pecs. He catches your eye and winks as you have the same treatment. You bite your bottom lip and raise your knee and lay it over your other leg. Her hand rubs over his nipples and you try not to draw blood on your lip, but every instinct in you can’t keep your eye from wandering to her face. She better damn well watch herself, you can’t help but think to yourself. Your hips squirm slightly and an unconscious furrow forms between your brows as you look on.

Harry grins and tries to hide a chuckle as he clues in to your thoughts. “Ladies, can ya ‘scuse us, please. Thank ya…appreciate it.” The ladies make their way out through the room and out.

You can’t help a giggle that erupts as you pull the sheet covering you over your head, embarrassed at being busted with jealousy. Harry is siting on the edge of his massage bed smirking at you.

“I’m sorry…” you say from below the sheet, then put your hand over your eyes over the sheet.

He laughs his breathy laugh. “Wha’ are ya sorry fo’ love?” he asks tongue in cheek.

“Harry! Stop…I’m embarrassed enough…”

“Ya do look good in envy green…” he teases before he steps forward placing one hand to the side of your head and leaning forward to pull your sheet down from your face.

“It’s just….she….she touched my swallows….and these,” you say running your hand up his chest and over to circle his nips with your middle finger.

“Yours, huh?” he says leaning down to place a smug kiss on your lips.

You nod your head and rock your knee to one side.

“Tha’s right…your’s… an’ don’ forget it…,” he murmurs against your lips as you cup the side of his neck. “Do som’thin’ fo’ me?”

You can tell by his low, raspy voice and the thickness of his accent, it’s gonna be something very enjoyable. “Anything…,” you reply biting the side of your lip.

Leaning down close to your ear, “Go kneel on tha bed facing tha headboard, stretch ya hands up as far as ya can along tha wall,” he runs one hand down the inside of your thigh to your knee over the sheet, “Keep these knees spread, understand?”

You gulp looking into his eyes dilated with desire. “Yes, I understand.”

“An’ babe, I like ya a ‘lil possessive…it’s cute on ya…,” he says before he boops your nose, “but ya don’ hav’ ta worry, ‘m yours and you’re mine…tha’s how we work.”

You sit up and slide off the table wrapping the sheet around yourself, looking over your shoulder as you walk through the sliding door away from him. You’re suddenly jerked to a stop when your sheet gets caught on something…you look down to find him standing on one corner.

“Well? Go on, love…don’ need tha’ thing…,” he says nodding toward the sheet.

You drop your arms and saunter toward the made bed. Maintaining eye contact with him, you toss the throw pillows to the floor with a smirk and pull the duvet back and down and crawl up on the bed sucking in your lips as he crosses his arms and watches from the balcony. You face the headboard and make quick work of stretching your arms along the upholstered wall and spread your knees. Your breasts slightly leaning against the wall. Looking over your shoulder you watch as a stark-naked Harry, locks the sliding door. You switch shoulders eying him as he walks behind you to the bedroom door to click the deadbolt. Swallowing a gulp you turn back toward the wall and lean your forehead against it fluttering your eyes. “God…” you mutter to yourself knowing this is going to be intense.

Crawling on the bed behind you mirroring your position, he slides one hand around to your tummy using his free hand to pull your hair to one side, “Mmmm baby, such a good girl… ya gon’ lemme make ya feel good now tha’ ya all relaxed, hmm?”

“Yes,” you answer leaning your head to one side so his lips can find their way to the sweet spot just below your ear. Your body floods with arousal and covers in goosebumps.

“Love ya body…this body tha’ holds me close…soaks me…cum’s s’beautifully fo’ me. Ya skin’s so soft,” he says smoothing his hands down your thighs and back up to your tummy and farther to cup your breasts. “Sensitive?” he asks as he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger while he kisses your shoulder. “Can smell ya…ya wet fo’ me?”

You nod then roll your head back against his shoulder, mouth gaping open and eyes closed. He ruts his hips into your bum.

“So hard…,” you whisper and start to pull your hand down to grasp him.

He gently catches your wrist and places it back up on the upholstered wall. “Leave ‘em, Jezebel. Wan’ ya ta be very still fo’ me, yeah?”

You nod your head, “Yes, Harry.”

He begins kissing across your shoulders, dragging his tongue along the way. His hands gently run down your sides as his tongue traces your spine. “Love ya s’much, wanna make ya feel good…wanna taste every inch of ya…,” he says between kisses as he crouches down to kiss your lower back and down farther to the tops of your bum cheeks as his hands grip your thighs. “Ya ok?”

You drop your head back, your hair tickling the skin on your back. You feel yourself vibrate with arousal.

He leaves you for only a few seconds as he lays down and positions his head between your knees and wraps his hands around your thighs, pulling you back slightly so he can look up the front of your body.

He turns his head and kisses the inside of your thigh. His green eyes meet yours as you look down at him. “Ya know wha’ I wan’,” he mutters before he places a closed mouth kiss to your clit. “So pretty, baby,” he says bracing his one hand on your waist and sliding one up to finger the bee tattoo under your breast, “Wan’ my honey….” He lifts his chin slightly, enough for him to place a sucking kiss to your pussy lips, first one side then the other. You back bows at the sensation, “Know ya love this.” He uses a flat tongue to lick a thick stripe up the seam of your pussy before tenderly kissing your swollen clit.

“Hahh…Ahhh-Ah…” you cry out scratching at the upholstery. You hips buck slightly away, the sensation intense.

He points his tongue and follows the seam again parting your lips and circling your clit over and over.

“Har…ry!” you whisper-sob out.

He slides one of his big hands up past your waist to spread his fingers out and brace your lower back. The other cupping your bum cheek. “Mmm- taste s’fuckin’ good…can ya spread out even more fo’ me?” he asks holding you up as you settle wider.

“Feels so good, H.” you whimper and buck your hips on his face.

“There ya go, take wha’ ya wan’, ma love…”

“Suck my clit, Harry…” you beg looking down at his eyes and slicked back hair between your knees.

He sucks hard on your clit and your waist falters at the feeling but he holds you upright. Your fingers are scratching down the wall as you moan and groan in a high-pitched voice.

“I’m falling, H…I’m falling…”

“I’ll catch ya, baby, promise I’ll always catch ya, let go…jus’ let go…”

You let go as a soft orgasm over takes your clit and your thighs shake and your hips buck.

Harry pulls his head back and turns over onto his hands and knees. He pulls your hips with him, and you walk backwards on your knees until you can fall forward onto your hands. On your hands and knees facing the headboard, he kisses your bum cheeks. “’M not done, hold still…”

He spreads your bum cheeks so he has access to your pussy from behind, “Wan’ more honey, wan’ ya drippin’ fo’ me…”

You arch your back, belly down to angle your pussy toward his touch, towards his tongue. He licks another stripe from your clit to your hole before he rims his tongue around your entrance. “So wet baby…”

His thumbs are holding you open so he can get the best access to your clit.

“Mmmhmmm…mmmm…HarHarHarry…” you chant as your feel yourself flood with arousal.

“Wan’ ya ta cum on ma tongue, swee’heart…my swee’ baby…cum on ma tongue…” He encourages voice muffled as he buries hs face in your pussy.

His hand slips and his thumb runs across the rosette of your bum, he pulls his face back, but doesn’t move his hand, instead he runs his thumb around the very sensitive nerves and watches for your reaction.

You swivel your hips and cry out, “Oh!” as you jerk forward.

He places his lips to your bum cheek and whispers, “Shhh…Shhh…Ya alright…Shhh…” he coos as his thumb softly circles where you’ve never been touched before. “’S good?”

You swallow hard, “Yeah.”

“You wanna stop it?” he asks closing his eyes.

“N…n…no…,” you mutter.

His thumb runs up and down the sensitive area…and you’re surprised how wet you get at the stimulation.

“Babe, ya drippin’, so fuckin’ sexy…Jesus!” He holds his thumb still just applying gentle pressure to the rosette.

“H..Harry…I need to cum….I need you inside me, please!” you whine.

He pushes his thumb just slightly so that the tip of his digit is inside where only he has ever been. The nerves are so raw and sensitive that you feel your tummy flutter, it feels way better than you ever imagined, but that’s not where you want him right now “Fuck me, H. Please, I’m begging…fuck me deep.”

“Did s’ good for me, Jezebel, ‘m gon’ fuck our spot. C’mere babe, ride me…wanna see ya face,” he says as he turns over on the bed and helps you to straddle his hips.

You lean down bracing your hand on the pillow behind his head and kiss him passionately, slipping your tongue inside his mouth. He’s frantic to suck on your tongue and then nibble your bottom lip. He reaches down to pump his cock up toward you and his pre-cum trails down your tummy as he positions himself at your entrance. You break apart panting, “You ok?” you ask searching his eyes.

He smiles, “Fuck yeah, I’m perfect. Wan’ inside ya…How abou’ you? Ya good?”

Panting, you smile and nod, “I’m good…” you say as you push your hips down on him, then close your eyes and groan…”Jessssus, Harry.”

You lean back and rest your hands on his knees. He’s so deep at this angle.

He’s looking down where you’re connected and biting his bottom lip. He runs one hand down your sternum and tummy to the spot, “So god damn wet. Go’ me soaked.”

You flex your thighs and bum and move up and down on him keeping him deep inside, your flexing muscles holding him tight and steady. “Babybabybabybaby…” he chants as he feels you clenching down on him tightly. “I can’ hold it, love, I’m gon’ cum….come on, baby, come on…”

You reach down and use your middle finger to circle your clit and it’s just enough to put you over the edge. “Harry! I’m cumming…AHHHHAAHHH…AH…AH…!” You start to pull off it’s so sensitive.

“No!,” he pulls you down on him and holds you tight as you feel him twitch and fill you with his cum. Your body is pulling toward him, you need to get as close to him as possible. You fall forward with a thud on his chest breathing rapidly as he runs his hands up and down your back. You shiver and he pulls the sheet up from the sides to cover you.

“Ya warm enough now, babe?”

“Yeah,” you smile tucking your arms under your body between your chests, your breathing evening out.

“Ya fall asleep on me, Jezebel?”

“Nah, just very content…satisfied…” you admit raising your head to kiss his chin.

“I love ya.” He says cupping your cheeks “Ya ok wi’… everythin’ we did?”

You blush and grin shyly, “Are you?”

He chuckles and murmurs as he holds you gaze, “I asked ya firs’, bu’ ’ll answer, ‘m so ok wi’ wha’ we did ‘s long ‘s ya liked it. Babe, ya body fascina’es me an’ ‘m fuckin’ crazy abou’ makin’ love wi’ ya. Mean, did it feel good?”

“Yeah, I mean,” you bury your face in his chest, “Yeah, it did feel good, but did you…like did…it turn you off…I mean, it was an accident at fir…”

“Ok, honest, yeah, it fuckin’ turns me on…Ok. It was a happy accident…I’ve never wan’ed tha’ wi’ anyone else, but, baby, wi’ you…” he interrupts.

You smile, “well, I never thought that’d be something I’d consider, but with you I find myself feeling adventurous and sexy and very, very horny….for….things I never thought I’d be interested in…but I want you to enjoy and if you say you do, then let’s… keep…going with it…”

He nuzzles your neck, kissing your ear, “Like tha sound of tha’.”

You kiss his chest, “you know Harry, they say that for a guy to be stimulated that way…I would love to make you feel as good as you make me feel…,” you trail off, nipping his nipple and then holding his stare.

“I mean, I’ve heard abou’ tha’… hav’ never…bu’ am open ta it if you are?”

You lean forward and kiss his lips, “I’m interested…curious about all the ways I can make you feel good.”

He smiles, “Ya always make me feel good…I love ya, I love ya so much.”

About that time your stomach growls and you drop your forehead on his chest embarrassed. He chuckles, “Well, sound’s like ma girl is hungry! ‘S a good thin’ ‘cause I have a date planned fo’ us tonight…some dinner, dancin’…maybe a walk on tha beach? Whadda ya thin’?”

“Sounds divine…” you coo while propped on his chest.

You get ready as fast as you can. You chose to pack a slinky black velvet dress with long bell sleeves and a short skirt. The material twists at the bust and there’s a cut out from under the breasts to the waist with two velvet straps crossing over your skin. You picked it because the cutout is just under your breast

and your initial and bumblebee tattoo is visible. It’s gonna drive him crazy and you can’t wait to see his face. You slip your feet into your black velvet wedges and step out into the bedroom, leaning against the door jutting your hip out and biting your red lip.

He’s sitting on the bed and looks up at you, his eyebrows go up and his mouth drops open. His hands run up and down his thighs, fingertips digging in his skin. “Jesus Jezebel…ya look fuckin’ amazin’.” He cocks his head and furrows his brows and puffs out a breath. “I can see ya tattoo,” he says getting up and moving to stand in front of you.

“Why I picked this dress.”

“Fuck…ya no’ playin’ fair, but ya look amazin’.” He licks his lips. “Think ma two orgasms a day regimen I put ya on is workin’ out pretty good fo’ ya,” he says smirking as he kisses your cheek.

You giggle. “Thought it might be the dress or the workouts, to be honest,” you say hands running down your breasts and to your tummy. He laughs his breathy little laugh. “Ya may be right Jezebel, but still think great sex looks beautiful on ya.” He purses his lips. “I know I look good on ya…got to the pics ta prove it ta.”

You blush. “Yeah you fucking do.”

He chuckles. “Ya ready?”

“Mmmm…let’s go.”

He grabs your hand as you walk to the concierge desk. “Ah, there you are! We’ve been expecting you both. Right this way.”

“Thank ya.”

“I take it your stay at The Headlands is to your satisfaction so far?”

“Yeah, s’perfect,” Harry says, squeezing your hand.

“Excellent,” he says, leading you into the dining room and to a secluded corner of the room and pulls out your seat for you. “Enjoy your meal. Please contact me if you need anything.”

You both thank him and then you’re left to enjoy your dinner.

You’ve had a sumptuous meal and dessert and now you’re sipping your after dinner tea and coffee. You’re not talking out loud but his eyes are telling you everything. It’s the way he can have your heart racing and blood boiling just by looking at you. His eyes caress your body from head to toe and it might as well be his touch from the way it affects you. You take another sip of your tea as your cheeks burn.

You’re finally done and he grabs your hand and leads you to the ballroom/nightclub. You go to the bar and he orders something you can’t hear. Two shot glasses land on the bar, shots are poured, and he picks them up and hands one to you. “Cheers Jezebel.”

You tap your glass to his. “Cheers,” you say and you both down the shot.

“Another?”

You nod and then another shot is thrust into your hand. “Cheers!” You clink your glass to his again and down the shot. You smile as you slam the shot glass on the bar. You’re feeling good now so you grab his hand and pull him to the dance floor. You push him into a booth close to the floor and run to the music booth.

He watches as you say something to the DJ and he nods. You come back and stand in front of him, eyes boring into his and wait. You smile when the current song ends and bite your lip as the first chords to Justify My Love by Madonna are heard through the speakers. You watch him gulp as your hands move slowly down your throat, your breasts, fingers running over your tattoo before moving lower to your tummy and down to your thighs. You watch as his throat bobs and he licks his lips. As the chorus starts, you raise your arms and then move them back down your body while mouthing the lyrics: Wanting/needing/waiting/For you/to justify my love/Yearning/burning/For you/to justify my love

You turn around and move your hips from side to side, picking up your hair and slowly let it fall back down, hands moving down your sides. You look back at him over your shoulder and smirk.

He tucks his lips in his mouth and then as you turn back around, he slowly slides his hand to his cock and squeezes, maintaining eye contact.

You smile and sway your hips again as the final chorus plays and you mouth the words at him, your hands running steadily back and forth over your tattoo.

As soon as the song ends he stands up and moves right in front of you and moves his hips into yours, grinding into you as another song starts up.

You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands move to your waist. “So hard for me, H. Can feel you through your trousers,” you breathe against his lips.

“Fo’ you, Jezebel. Only fo’ you.”

You lean up on your tiptoes, “You ready to get outta here, mister?”

“Yup, ya gon’ have ta do tha’ again fo’ me, bu’ wi’ a lot less clothes,” he says against your mouth then bites your bottom lip and pulls away with a pop. He grabs your hand and pulls you away from the dimly lit nightclub and to the lift. If looks could dissolve your clothing, you’d both be stark naked waiting for the lift doors to open. You can’t keep your eyes from roaming up and down his face as his dimple deepens with the smug smirk on his face. His trousers’ tented with his erection and not an ounce of a fuck to give on his face. As soon as the doors open you step inside, and a younger couple walks up just in time to attempt to step in with you.

“Take the next one,” Harry says pulling a one hundred pound note from his pocket and handing it to the young man.

“Thanks man,” he says and looks to his date with shock.

The lift doors close, “Harry!” you giggle. “I can’t…” he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you, “believe you did that! What is with you and elevators!”

“Jus’ wan’ ya alone. Don’ even wan’ ta share the elevator space, ‘sides gotta monster hard-on fo’ ya at the mo’,” he says grinning as he looks down your body. He slides his hand inside the opening of your dress and down the front to where your red silk panties are soaked. When his fingers touch the wetness he closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath before slowly breathing it out his nose, “Fuckin’ hell…wet…ya like rilin’ me up in public doncha,” he whispers as he leans his forehead to yours.

You brush his hair over his ear, “I like that I turn you on, feels…powerful….”

“Oh, ya have ma turned on…always turn ma on…sometimes it hurts,” he says palming his cock over his trousers.

“Ding” the lift indicates your floor and he rolls his eyes…

“Jesus…” he whines, actually whines like a kid who’s just been told no to eating his favorite candy.

“Aww, honey, we’ll be in the room before you know it,” you coo running your hand down his chest and sauntering past him with an exaggerated sway to your hips.

He looks to the heavens for help as he follows. Passing you by and grabs your hand and takes long strides to get to your room.

“Harry! Know you’re a man on a mission but wait for me!” you giggle.

He swipes the key card and swings you into the room and around into his arms as the door slams shut. “Wan’ ya ta dance fo’ me again…same song, an’ take ya clothes off while ya do it, yeah?”

He finds the song on his phone, puts it on repeat and sets it on the bedside table. He slips his shoes off and takes a seat in a chair in the sitting area as you stand before him. He unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way and leaves it hanging as he relaxes back. “Go on, Jezebel,” he says smiling and bumping his chin up for emphasis.

You drop your clutch on the bed and walk to him, close enough to stand between his spread legs. You begin to sway to the music and run your hands up and down your hips and sides.

You swivel your hips to the beat and mouth the words to the chorus. You slowly tease the shoulder of your dress off and turn to the side to rest your chin on your shoulder and bat your lashes at him before you bend over and smooth your hands down the back of your legs, giving him a glance of your red satin covered pussy.

“Red…” he murmurs as he cocks his head down trying to get a better glimpse.

You stand up and run your hands up through your hair letting it drop back onto your shoulders. You push first one shoulder then the other of your dress off and pull your arms through. Going braless tonight under the thicker fabric made sense and now, it has added a sensual sensation to your nipples that has you on edge. His eyes on your chest you pull the dress down to your waist and his inhale is audible.

“Fuck, babe,” he groans, “Tits are s’perfect.”

“These?” you ask coyly as you cup them and push them together.

He crooks his finger toward you.

You walk to him and lean forward both hands on his knees, your breasts dangling down in front of him. “Did you need something, sir?”

He shakes his head with a smirk, “Killin’ me, love, turn around,” he says twirling his finger.

You turn around and begin to rub your hips on his lap, as he reaches around to smooth his hands up your thighs. “Not supposed to touch the dancer, H.”

“Oh, baby, touchin’s allowed in this establishment, in fact, it’s necessary fo’ proper satisfaction…”

You lean back and run your hands up your breasts again and thumb your nipples as he watches over your shoulder.

His hands work their way to your dress at your waist and he starts to tug it down past your panties to a heap at your ankles.

You stand before he gets a chance to get his hands on your breasts causing him to huff and grip his knees shaking his head.

“Tease…”

You toss the dress to one side, leaving you in your red satin panties and velvet heels. You slowly step back toward him and reach for the cuffs on his sleeves to pull his shirt off. Bending down you unbutton and unzip his pants. He lifts his hips as your pull his pants and boxers off, his cock popping back up on his tummy. You step backwards so you can take in the sight before you. Biting your bottom lip you shake your head, “You are a sexy, sexy man, Harry Edward Styles.”

He nods toward your panties, “An’ you are a sexy, very wet woman…ruined those panties. Ya like dancin’ fo’ me?”

You bite your forefinger and nod, “Yes, I do.”

“Mmm-hmm…good ta know.”

He sits forward, stands and stalks toward you as you step backward. He goes down to one knee, then the other in front of you. Burying his nose in your panties he inhales deeply. Then looks up your body to your eyes, “I love ya so much.”

You card your fingers through his hair, “I love you too.”

His fingers work their way into the waistband of your panties and pull them down and you steady yourself on his shoulders as you step out off them. He tosses them to the side, “Wanna kiss ma cunt…taste ma honey.” He runs his hands up your thighs and uses his thumbs to hold your lips open so he can place a kiss on your swollen clit. His eyes roll up to yours as his tongue darts out to lick it. “Mmmm…, so sweet, taste so good, baby. Lips are s’swollen,” he presses his middle finger deep inside your wet channel, “feel s’warm…can feel ya heat. Body’s ready ta be fucked…, mmm…jus’ go’ wetter…love how turned on ya get.”

You moan in response, eyes meeting his.

“Look babe,” he leans back on his free hand, his other hand between your legs, finger deep inside you, “Look how hard I am,” he says as you both look down to where his cock stands straight up as he’s leaned back on his ankles propped on one hand. He removes his finger and you gasp. He leans back on both hands and bucks his hips up, “C’mere babe, sit on my cock, wanna fuck ya jus’ like this.”

You place a foot on either side of his hips, “Take the heels off.”

“You don’t want me to leave them on?”

“Nah, love, wan’ ya comfortable, an’ steady, wan’ ya ta feel good, don’t give a fuck abou’ tha heels.”

You crouch down on the balls of your feet in squatting position over him balancing your hands on your knees. Propped on one hand he uses the other to guide his cock to your entrance and then he bucks his hips up into you to the hilt. You suck in a deep breath and slightly lose your balance causing you to reach one hand for his shoulder.

Catching his eye he smirks at you, “Ya good?”

“Don’t stop, please, H, don’t stop!”

He bounces and swivels his hips up and down thrusting into you over and over as you hold still. “Eyes on me, Jezebel,” he grits out through a clenched jaw. “Eyes (thrust) on (thrust) me (thrust) while I fuck ya. So fuckin’ tight, can feel ya grip me…!”

“H…H…Har-ry,” you mouth falls open, eyes rolling back “it’s so deep…Ah! Ah!” you fall back on one hand unable to keep your balance, but the angle in this position, hits right on your g-spot. “Whoa!”

He’s got both his lips in his mouth as he concentrates on thrusting inside you as your wetness floods around his cock and dribbles down onto his balls. “Jesus Christ, love, no’ gonna last…no’ gonna last…no’ like this…touch y’self, get y’self there wi’ me!” he demands.

You reach around to circle your clit as he shifts his eyes between yours and the place where you’re connected.

“Gonna cum, Harry, gonna cum…eeehhh ahhh, hahhh…hahhh!” you fall back on both hands still crouched on the balls of your feet.

“Unnnngghhh,” he thrusts one last time and hold deep his abs and thighs quivering and a groan rips from deep in his chest.

“Fuck, baby, here,” he pulls up on his knees and helps you rest back on your back. He straightens your legs and you grimace, “’s that better,” he says massaging the backs of your knees. He laughs a breathy laugh, “Thank god fo’ the yoga….”

You can’t help but giggle and whine at the same time, “Oooo, that’s gonna smart tomorrow,” you say bending and straightening your leg over and over trying to work out the cramps. “Totally worth it though, my god, Harry,” you say resting your hand on your tummy and closing your eyes, “that was amazing.”

He crawls forward over you keeping his weight all fours over you. “You alive, my love?” he says doing a push up to get down to kiss your sternum and then up to meet your eyes.

You nod and moan your reply.

“Come on Jezebel, let’s get ya in bed, we can cuddle.”

He helps you up and you stop to run to the restroom. He brushes his teeth as you finish up and takes his turn as you brush yours and take your make-up off. You’re rubbing lotion on your hands as he crawls in bed and pulls the duvet back for you to crawl in. You rest your head on his chest and smooth your hand on his pecs as he gently scratches your back.

“Thank you for bringing us here, I mean, I’m just as happy to be in our cottage but this is so amazing,” you say looking out the sliding door at the moonlight.

“Welcome, baby,” he says kissing the top of your head.

You look up at his face, “Are you happy, Harry?”

“So fuckin’ happy, babe. Are you?”

“Never been happier, never felt so complete and satisfied, never felt so loved,” you sigh. And it’s all true, you’ve never been happier and never felt more complete. There is however a small niggling part of you that wonders if this happiness is what is bringing on the memories of your parents. Are you finally getting so comfortable that the memories are starting to surface? You know what happened to them, you know you were there, you’ve just shoved it all so far down that it feels like something brand new bubbling to the top of your consciousness. You shake your head trying to shake the thoughts.

“Ya ok? Ya went silent on me?” he asks raising his head to look down at you.

“Yeah, just tired, I suppose.”

“Let’s get some rest, can’t wait ta take some time out on tha sea tamorrow. Mmmm…all tha tiny swimsuit to see…”

You giggle. “One track mind,” you say shaking your head and kissing his chest.

“I love ya, baby.”

“I love you too.”

He rolls over and you snuggle into his back. I love you little spoon, you think to yourself as you press a kiss between his shoulder blades and close your eyes.

#the headlands #original content #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #friends to lovers

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