#absolutely loved plotting this in so much detail with you
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I’ll Crawl Home To Her (Azriel x Reader)
AN: This was supposed to be based off But Daddy I Love Him but it morphed into something else but I'm kinda happy about it.
Summary: The story of how the princess of Velaris and the shadowsinger came to be.
Warnings: blood, injury, dickhead dads, bit of smut but it's not too descriptive (It's for the plot), angst, fluffy ending.
Word count: 8053
As a princess I was told that “hate” is a very strong word. Consequently, there weren’t a lot of things that I hated. For example, I greatly disliked when my tea came with too much milk, and I absolutely despised corsets. But if there was one thing I hated, and I mean truly hated, it was my father.
If it wasn’t for the way he treated my mother and older brother then it would be the way he treated me. How he kept me from my beloved, my brother's best friend, the shadowsinger, my Azriel.
Azriel had been mine long before my father ever knew about it. When I grew to be 207 my mother finally convinced my father to let me go to Windhaven with her to visit Rhys. I hadn’t seen my brother in years, as he had begun training with the Illyrians.
He wrote me letters of course, detailing friends and enemies he made along the way. Two of which stood out to me, Cassian and Azriel. However these letters never made up for him in the flesh, which is why during my first trip to Windhaven I had never been so excited. To this day I still remember it…
The winter wind stung my cheeks as snow clung to the furs of my cloak. It was as if no matter how many layers I wore the wind found its way to barrel through and nip at my skin.
I found myself walking along the edge of the camp, where the light of the fires couldn't reach me and only the moon gave me the ability to see. When my mother and I arrived at the little cabin Rhys was not there, after speaking to Devlon we found he was on assignment and would be home soon.
After a few hours in the cabin I began to feel claustrophobic, so I took a walk around the heavily wooded area. There was something magic about the first snow of the season. The way the snow covered the ground and crunched under my boots. White capped trees that looked like they were frosted by the gods, and the still silence that came from the insulation the blanket of white provided.
“It’s a little cold out don’t you-” a voice crooned behind me and stopped abruptly as I turned to face him.
Standing frozen just a few feet from me was an Illyrian male with his mouth agape at the sight of me. He was large, his wings the biggest I had ever seen. Inky black hair framed his carved face as his hazel eyes frozen in shock as if he had just seen a ghost.
“Forgive me,” he said, shaking his head a bit, as if to clear the fog from his mind. “It’s just that I don’t see many beautiful things up here, you startled me.”
My cheeks flush and I pray he thinks it's from the cold and not the butterflies in my stomach.
“I find that hard to believe when this is your view,” I smile, gesturing to the snow valley below us. “There’s nothing more beautiful than the first snowfall of the year.”
Footsteps crunch behind me as he comes up on my right, “Perhaps, but it pales in comparison to you,” he smirks and this time I know he can tell he’s the reason my cheeks are pink. “Might I have the honor of knowing your name?”
I turn to meet his gaze once more but before I can answer back I hear a shout coming from far away.
“Y/N!” my brother shouts charging towards me.
“Rhys!” I call back running into his embrace.
He lets out a groan as I leap into his arms, a pile of furs and wool as I pull him into me. The scent of sea salt and citrus filling my nose, the warmth of him seeping through my clothes.
“Ahh little sister I’ve missed you,” Rhys says, setting me down to get a good look at me.
“Little sister?” called the male behind me, his snow crunching footsteps coming towards Rhysand and I’s side.
“It seems you’ve already met her, this is my little sister, y/n.”Rhys beams, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Y/n this is my very good friend, Azriel.”
“Azriel,” I blink, holding out my hand for the shadowsinger to shake. How had I not realized? Rhysand’s letters spoke of his shadowsinger friend, now that I looked at him, and I mean really looked at him, I could see the dark matter swirling around him.
“Princess,” he says, bowing his head and pressing a kiss to my hand. “It is an honor to meet you. You’ll have to forgive my previous informality, I didn’t know who you were.”
Rhysand let out a hearty laugh behind me, “Azriel my friend there is no need for such formalities, in fact my sister detests them.” he smiles.
“It’s true, you can just call me y/n, I’m sure that we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the years to come.” I smile hoping I was speaking the truth into existence.
“Come, mother has made dinner for all of us and you have yet to meet Cassian,” Rhys said enthusiastically, throwing an arm over my shoulder.
From that day forward I found myself spending more and more time at Windhaven, in hopes of seeing Azriel. Sometimes I would see him for only a minute or so, other times he would be able to stay and have dinner with my mother, myself and of course Rhys and Cass.
Those were always my favorite nights when he and I would share stolen glances across the table. Sometimes we might brush hands reaching for the carafe of wine, other times I would feel his boot brush my ankle under the table. Both of us danced around the other like flickering flames.
It wasn’t until a few years later when all three of them conquered the blood rite that Azriel and I were finally able to admit our feelings for one another…
We stood behind one of the many rows of cabins, the sound of laughing warriors celebrating their victories or mourning their losses ran through the camp. Before he even spoke I knew why he asked me to meet him back here, I could feel the tension between us both.
“I’m tired of acting like I don’t care about you. I’m tired of saying “nothing” whenever Rhys and Cassian ask me what’s on my mind. I’m tired of trying to hide that everytime I come back to camp that I’m looking for you and hoping I can see you for just one second. I’m tired of pretending I don’t love you,” Azriel confesses, caging me against the back wall of a cabin.
“Azriel I-” I begin but he cuts me off.
“When we were on the mountain, there was a moment where there was a dagger to my throat and I thought I was going to die. I thought I would leave this world without telling you how much I loved you. If it wasn’t for Cassian that would’ve been the case. I won’t make the same mistakes twice,” he finished.
“Azriel, I love you too,” I shuddered a sigh, aware of how close he was to me.
The second the words left my mouth he was on me, large hands encircling my waist as I felt every inch of his body pressed against mine. His breath was hot on my face, contrasting the bitter cold of the night air.
“Can I kiss you?” he breathed, lips mere inches from mine.
“Please,” I begged, but once again the word hung in the air for mere seconds before his mouth was on mine.
Every part of it felt so right. His hands on my waist, my fingers in his hair, his lips on mine claiming me in a way that made my head spin. My arms pulled him as close as possible, needing to feel him, smell that scent of rain, leather and whatever intoxicating cologne he was wearing. I was so drunk on him that I was shaken when I heard a hearty laugh ring out through the camp.
I pulled back immediately realizing what was happening, “Oh my gods, we can’t do this here, my brother he-”
“Shhh, shhh,” he cooed, brushing a stray hair behind my ear. “I talked to Rhys about it, I have his blessing to court you. He took it rather well, he actually seemed excited.” Azriel laughed, pressing a kiss to my forehead as he held me closer, his body blocking the wind from seeping into my clothes.
“Oh Azriel,” I smile, kissing him hard as I feel him lifting me into the air, my head spinning just as fast as he spun me.
We spent the rest of that night lying on a blanket in a field away from the world. The sound of distant celebrations making us laugh every now and then. At some point I could’ve sworn I heard Cassian singing a tale of an old drunk warrior.
I had tried to tell Azriel that he should join his brothers in their celebration but he insisted that he would much rather spend his few moments of peace with me. It was one of the best nights of my life.
Our relationship was kept secret from everyone but Rhys and Cassian. Even my mother, who always accompanied me to Windhaven, was kept in the dark. No one with close ties to my father could know. That being said, it was hard for Azriel and I to find quiet moments together.
Most of the time we met in the woods behind camp. Azriel would go away and bring me little trinkets, pretty rocks and feathers he found while in the mountains. In the spring he always came with a freshly picked bouquet of wildflowers. We always ended up making out and getting carried away, on more than one occasion I tried to take things further but he never let me.
“I won’t have the first time I bed you in the woods. You’re a princess, you deserve a soft bed to be worshiped on.”
Was what he always said to me. While I appreciated the sentiment, I couldn’t help but wish for more.
It wasn’t until a few months later that I finally saw an opening. Father and mother were going to be at a meeting in the Winter Court, leaving Velaris in the care of Rhys. More importantly the cabin at Windhaven would be empty. That night was truly the best night of my life.
My back hits the warm sheets below me as Azriel looks at my bare body with hungry eyes. I had never been with a male before, my father and mother dead set on having me intact for whatever husband they shackled me to. But Azriel would be my husband, even if he wasn’t noble or the son of a High Lord he was mine, and I was his. I didn’t care how many rules I had to break to have him.
“My beautiful, beautiful princess,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to my neck.
His hands wander the expanse of my bare skin, both warming and leaving goosebumps wherever they trail. I arch my back into him, needing more, needing the very essence of him branded into me.
“Azriel I need more,” I breathe tugging on the ends of his hair.
He had already stripped me bare and kissed every square inch of me before falling to his knees and feasting on me like I was his last meal. I had read about such sinful touches before, dreamt about experiencing those sensations with him at night. None of it compared to the real thing.
“Are you sure about this?” He asks me once more, brushing the hair from my face.
“I’m sure, I want it to be you,” I nod running my hands through his hair again.
The wild twinkle in his eyes was enough to make my toes curl as he smiled at me, “I promise to be gentle, to make you feel good,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my lips.
“I trust you Az,” I nod and his lips kick up again at his nickname.
I feel him nudge and my entrance and my breath hitches as he inches himself inside. The stretch was painful, but the sting faded as he peppered kisses all over my face, whispering sweet nothings to me.
“Shh you’re doing so well princess…”
“You’re so beautiful…”
“Can you feel me? Can you feel us?”
“I love you…”
I must’ve seen stars a million times that night. His gentle nature only made me fall deeper in love with him. It wasn’t the brutal fucking I had heard about in taverns and from drunk men at balls. He had taken his time, and been even more gentle than he had promised me.
We made love a dozen times that night. Kissed and touched and worshiped until I fell asleep, bathed and warm in his arms.
The next morning was hard to face. Knowing we had to leave the cabin and act as if we didn’t spend the entire night exchanging souls, and tangled in eachothers arms.
Az especially was on edge, so much so that when a younger male offered to tie my boot for me Azriel marched over and pushed him into the mud before pulling my foot onto his bent knee and tying it himself.
Of course I yelled at him for being an Illyrian baby while Rhys and Cassian laughed and poked fun at their friend. Azriel just huffed and shot a warning glance at the poor male who had tried to tie my boot.
From there on out we spent every possible moment together. I would tell my father that I was visiting friends in other courts just so I could see Azriel, which wasn’t often. As the war between humans and fae grew more iminanent I saw less and less of the shadowsinger. Our meetings became more fervent, and well…passionate. We became careless and it’s what ended up tearing him away from me for good.
My back was pressed against the cabin wall, my hands pinned by my head as Azriel’s lips consumed mine. We had no longer than an hour together before he would be set back to scout for Hybern’s troops, but we intended to make the most of it.
“I missed you,” he breathed into my neck.
“I missed you too, two weeks is too long,” I murmured, breathing in his scent. He always left me one of his many shirts to sleep in but it never did compare to the real thing.
“I don’t have much time, they’re sending me to the border to scout for Hybern’s troops,” he says in between kisses.
Scarred hands drift over my waist and graze my bum as I feel him collecting fist fulls of my skirt. Before my dress can be pushed up much further than my knees the door to the cabin barges open, startling both of us. Azriel placed his hand on one of the daggers strapped to his side, but not even he could defend me from who stepped through the threshold.
“What the hells is going on here?” My father’s voice boomed from the doorway, the cold air from outside seeping into the place that was once our own.
I peek out from behind Azriel’s shoulder to find not only my father but Lord Devlon standing before us. My fathers eyes locked on mine, and white hot fear seared my nerves.
“What are you doing with my daughter?!” My father roared, his power slamming Azriel aside.
“Father no!” I scream, clinging to his arm to interrupt his antics.
Devlon screamed for backup to come as Azriel’s feet hit the floor again. The commotion outside beginning to stir.
“My lord, I-” Azriel starts to explain but my father cuts him off.
“You will not speak unless spoken to, you bastard born brute!” my father screams as Devlon’s men come to detain the Shadowsinger.
“Father stop it! He didn’t take advantage of me, we’ve been seeing each other.” I plead with my father as tears start to well up in my eyes.
“What?!” he scoffed, looking at me like I was a common whore. “You are promised to one of the sons of Spring and yet you soil yourself with filth of his kind?”
“He’s not filth. He’s Rhys’ friend, and he’s good, brave and kind.” I beseech him as I hear Azriel struggle against the men who have him bound.
My father takes a deep breath and turns his gaze from me. The sound of his boots crossing the wooden floors to stand before Azriel are the loudest most impending sound I had ever heard. He stands before my shadowsinger before raising his hand and letting his fist collide with that beautiful face I had spent so long kissing.
My gasp reverberates through the room but Azriel doesn’t make a sound, as if he’s challenging my father, or proving his worth.
“What should we do with him?” my father asks, not taking his eyes off Az.
“The boy has completed the rite, we can send him to one of the battalions on the border. Perhaps the trash will take itself out,” Devlon laughs. I had known that the Lord had a chip on his shoulder for my brother and his friends. But sending him to the slaughter?
“Father please I love him!” I cry falling to my knees before my father, grasping his hand. I would never beg my father for anything, never fall to my knees for anyone. But for this I would… for Azriel, I would die on my knees.
Despite my pleading my fathers gaze never falters from where it is fixed on Azriel. As if he’s trying to decide if he should slit his throat now or let him die on a battlefield. Azriel’s face remains steadfast and strong, showing no signs of weakness, like he will accept whatever punishment befalls him with the grace of a warrior.
“Send him,” he says resolutely before turning away.
“NO PLEASE!” I beseech as my father hauls me to my feets again, but my knees are giving out under me.
“It is done,” his gruff voice says in my ear as I watch them haul Azriel to his feet. “One day you’ll thank me.”
I watch as they pull Azriel toward the door. Dragging him unnecessarily letting his wings drape across the ground. It was all happening so fast and could be the last time I ever saw his face.
“Let me say goodbye! Please let me say goodbye!” I shouted thrashing in my fathers grasp. Needing to touch Az one last time, needing one more moment with him.
Azriel’s eyes were frantic as he heard my screams, as he watched my father use his strength to detain me.
“Listen! Listen!” he called trying to get me to stop my frantic blubbering, the guards pulling him out the door. “You have to be strong princess. I love you , and I will find you again, if not in this life than in the next!” he shouts as he is hauled past the threshold of the cabin.
“Azriel!” I scream, my voice cracking under the weight of my tears.
“I love you!” he shouts again from the outside of the cabin.
“I love you!” I call back to him, not knowing if I’ll ever get another chance to say it.
That was six months ago...
Since then the war had gotten more and more bloody, and unavoidable. As far as I knew Azriel was still alive. I hadn’t seen him since the night he was ripped from my arms, a night I often had nightmares about. I sent him letters whenever possible and every so often I would get one back.
I could tell he had tried to send more, as every date on the ones that did make it through were skewed. The most recent one, dated two months ago, burned a hole in the pocket of my dress. The folds were so worn from reading that I feared they may fall apart the next time I opened it.
My love,
I am alive and well, though my battalion has suffered great losses. More and more Illyrians are sent to the frontlines every day to take the place of the dead. There are times I wonder if a wide eyed recruit will ever take my place…
At night I lie in bed and dream of you lying next to me, your warmth. Or the way your hair looks sprawled in swirling over the green grass when you’re under me. The sound of your voice calling my attention. The softness of your hands. The night you came undone for me in the cabin.
My only consolation is that when I look up at the night sky. I know you are looking at those same stars. And if what I’m doing is keeping you safe. Keeping you fed and swathed in those blue silks that drive me crazy. Then I will sleep in this tent and fight alongside my peers happily. My love is safe and warm because of me.
I love you, and I will return to you.
Yours eternally,
Azriel
I fold the tattered parchment with gloved hands and tuck it securely into the pocket of my dress. The shouts of men and the clash of swords outside my tent drown out the peace I had struggled to preserve.
Hybern’s army had marched on Velaris and while the border hadn’t been breached, my father decided it was unsafe to leave my mother and I there. My mother was sent to a camp with my father where he would watch over her, I was sent to Rhys’ camp.
The flap of the tent is thrown open, my brother charges in wearing his leathers, his hair disheveled and a letter in hand.
“What is it?” I stand upon seeing the worry gracing his face.
Armies had been marching upon another camp a few miles away. If they had breached the encampment that would mean they were coming for us next. We would have just minutes to evacuate and find a safe place.
“The men were able to hold the front lines,” he says, setting down his swords with a sigh that told me that there was still news to be revealed.
“Then what is it?” I asked quietly, unsure of whether or not I wanted to know the truth he had to say.
Violet eyes met my own, in them, a sorrow and worry I had not yet seen from my brother, “It’s Azriel.” he said.
My heart stopped and my world quieted as I perched myself on a nearby chair, not trusting my legs to keep me upright. Not when my heart lay in the balance, the very reason I was alive.
“He was injured, severely. He may be dying y/n.” he said sadly, coming to stand before me.
May be dying. Which meant he was alive, which meant there was still a chance.
My head snaps up to him, a new fire in my gaze that no one had seen in six months.
“Take me to him,” I ordered my brother as I stood to collect my cloak.
“You’re asking me to take you, my sister, to the front lines. I won’t do it.” Rhys shakes his head.
“I am going with or without you Rhys,” I say firmly, wrapping my cloak around my shoulders.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before picking his swords up again and strapping them to his sides. With my hood over my head and my brother's hand at my back we made our way out into the night. Once we reached the wards at the edge of the camp we winnowed to the encampment near the frontlines.
Immediately as we walked through the rows of tents and campfires I could tell that these males had seen hell. All of them looked significantly worse than the males at the camp we had just come from. Most of them were caked in mud and blood, some were drunk on whatever filled their cups. All of them were loud and rowdy and most likely celebrating their last nights in this life.
Rhys led me through the camp, until we arrived at a lonely tent in the center. It was large and from the outside I could practically smell Azriel. I bolted for the entrance and threw open the flaps, my heart racing, unsure if I would find him alive or dead.
But there he was, breathing. Leaning against the back of his bed with a large bandage over his left thigh. He was awake and refreshingly himself, as if nothing was truly wrong and most importantly he was alive.
I run to him throwing my arms around his neck, “Oh Azriel,” I coo breathing him in.
“Y/n?” he says, his mind clearly still foggy.
I pull back to cup his face, whoever had healed him has cleaned him up, the small cut above his eyebrow already starting to heal, “Az,” I breathe.
His hand comes to cup my face, “How are you here? This can’t be real,” his eyes search my face as if to try and wake up from a dream.
I place a kiss on his lips, “I’m real, I’m here,” I assure him as tears spill from my eyes. “They told me you were dying.”
“I am well, it was a deep cut but the healers say I’ll be okay,” he assures me as his eyes continue to take me in.
I let my eyes do the same, taking in every cut and bruise on him, even the patched holes in his wings no doubt from arrows piercing the beautiful, leathery flesh.
“Faebane?” Rhys’ voice croons from the entrance of the tent as he watches us, it seemed that his nerves were also settled upon seeing Azriel well.
“Yep,” Azriel said nonchalantly, but his eyes told the truth of how happy he was to see my brother, or maybe how relieved.
“Hurts like a bitch doesn’t it?” Rhys chuckles stepping into the tent and closing the flap.
My eyes widened at his causal tone, “How can you both be so docile about this? He could’ve died.” I exclaim, looking Azriel over once more in case I missed any lingering wounds.
Azriel's chest rumbles with a chuckle, “Shhh my love. Everything will be alright.” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “But what are you doing here? It isn’t safe.”
“The border of Velaris is almost breached,” Rhys started from behind me. “We couldn’t leave her and my mother there, it wasn’t safe.”
“Mother is with father and I’m with Rhys. We found out you were injured and just a camp away and I asked him to take me to you.” I continue Rhys’ explanation.
Azriel cuts Rhys a somewhat harsh look as if to say ‘why the hell would you take her somewhere so dangerous?’
“You needed to see each other,” Rhys explains further. “If anything were to happen to you and I didn’t let you two say goodbye, I would never forgive myself.”
Azriel’s shoulders softened in understanding before turning to me once more, “You have to go princess,” he said, eyes full of sorrow.
My breath hitches as I stumble back a little from where I sit next to him, “What? No, I won’t leave you,” I say resolutely.
He cups the side of my face, “Please it’s not safe here,” he eyes pleading as his voice falters.
I go to argue but Rhys speaks up behind me, “He’s right y/n, It’s the most vulnerable camp we have.” my brother says, his words solemn.
“I don’t care!” I exclaim turning back to brush Azriel’s hair from his face. “I’m not leaving him Rhys, we will be okay.”
Azriel’s eyes flare, “Look at me!” he shouts gesturing to his leg. “I can’t protect you here,” his voice is laced with frustration, not at my unwillingness to leave, but his inability to do the one thing he swore to always do, protect me.
“Then I’ll die here with you!” I proclaim, fiercely. “If you cannot protect me, then you cannot protect yourself. Please Azriel, please don’t make me leave.” I cry lying down on his chest, gripping the leathers there, as if it might keep my brother from ripping me away.
“I can’t,” I sob as my words get caught in my throat. “I can’t lose you again I-”
“Shhh,” Azriel coos, his hand stroking my hair as he pulls me into his chest. “You’ll stay here in my arms.” he assures me and I’m finally able to relax into his touch.
“Y/n, I can’t stay here. I need to go back to my own troops and prepare them for tomorrow,” my brother said softly, not trying to persuade me to return, but to inform me of the increasing danger.
“I understand,” I say standing to say goodbye.
“I’ll come back for you tomorrow morning, before the troops march,” he said, his words tinged with sorrow.
I take in the sight of my brother looking defeated, a look I so rarely saw on him. It broke me to realize I might never see him after this. If the enemy marched on this camp there would be no one to keep Azriel and I from the slaughter given his injury.
“Okay,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I threw myself onto my beloved brother.
Rhys said his goodbyes to Azriel, both of them not wanting to get too deep, say too much, for fear of manifesting defeat on both sides. When my brother exited the tent I took my spot next to Azriel on his large cot and waited for either death or the sunrise.
Later in the night, the raucous from outside got louder and louder disturbing my sleep. When I raised my head from Azriel’s chest I found that his eyes remained open and fixed on the tent entrance, like he was ready to challenge anyone who dared to walk through despite his inability to walk.
“Hey,” I smiled weakly, my voice shaky from sleep.
“Hey,” he smiled back, pushing a hair from my face.
I moved back the blanket to check the gash in his thigh. Lifting the white bandage, I could see that it was almost completely soaked through, if I left it that way he would never get better.
I throw my legs over the edge of the cot and search for my discarded cloak, “You need fresh bandages or you’ll get an infection. I’m going to go get you some.”
“Y/n don’t you dare leave this tent. There are war bound men out there looking for one last lay before they leave this world,” he pleads, reaching for my hand that’s just out of reach.
“I’ll only be a moment Az,” I assure him before raising my hood and slipping out of the tent.
I can hear him shouting my name as I exit, but his protests are quickly drowned out by the sound of drunken men. Azriel was right, these men were drunk and not in their right mind. But if that wound got infected and he died I would never forgive myself. So I kept my head down walking towards the medic tent I passed on my way in, ignoring rambunctious cheers and stumbling men.
The light of the medic tent comes into view and relief washes over me swiftly before the rug is pulled out from under me and I run smack into a broad chest.
“Well what do we have here?” laughs a drunken male. I can smell the sweat and alcohol on him.
“Looks like we have a little birdy who lost her way,” laughs a male from my right.
My feet take two steps back before bumping into another mountain of a male. His hand comes up to rip the hood off my head, if all three of them recognized me as their princess they didn’t show it. My pulse began to race as I frantically looked for a way out of this hell.
“What’s a beauty like you doing out here?” crooned the male behind me.
I put on a stoic face, “I’m leaving if you’ll excuse me,” I state, but before I can even take my first step I feel large hands grasping my shoulders holding me in place.
“Whoever bought you for the night must’ve paid a pretty penny,” jested the man to my right.
“What do ya say darlin? Are you gonna give these brave men a proper send off?” the man behind me says low into my ear as he grabs me around the middle, plucking me off the ground.
I start kicking trying to break free, my screamed muffled by his hand over my mouth. All the trashing in the world wasn’t enough to break their hold as the other two males descended upon me, as if they were willing to take me right there in the middle of camp.
“I’ll thank you to take your hands off my princess,” drawled a voice from behind me.
The eyes of the three men surrounding me went wide at whatever figure stood behind us, all three of them scurrying off to gods knew where. I turn slowly to face whoever my rescuer was, and I’m met with a mountain of sheer muscle and bright red siphons.
“Cassian!” I cried running to throw my arms around the burly warrior, I hadn’t seen him in over a year.
He hugs me tighter, the kind of bear hug only he could provide. It was clear to me that he missed me just as much as I had missed him. When he releases me he bends down to cup my face, and wipe away the tears I didn’t know had fallen.
“Princess, what are you doing here? Where is your brother?” he asked, brows furrowed.
“Rhys brought me here but he’s gone now, he’s gone back to his own camp but he’ll be back tomorrow,” I say as Cassian continues to wipe away the fresh tears, this time tears of happiness and not fear.
Cassain stands up as if to assess for danger before tossing an arm around me, “Stay with me, I’ll keep you safe. Where is Azriel? I was told he was injured,” he asks, remaining vigilant.
“He’s okay, I was just getting him fresh bandages,” I report, pointing Cassian towards the medic tent.
“He let you leave his tent?!” he balks corralling me inside the tent.
“Uh, no. Not really,” I laugh nervously.
He rolls his eyes and grabs a few armfuls of bandages before shoving them into my arms. We weave through drunken men who do a good job of staying at least three feet away from me, no doubt seeing The Lord of Bloodshed trailing me.
I throw open the flap of Azriel’s tent, running to his side at once.
“Oh thank the mother,” he sighs in relief upon seeing me.
I laugh at his fussing and begin dressing his wound, “Look who I found,” I say nodding my head to where Cassian stands behind me.
“I believe I found you,” Cassian corrects me, sheer amusement in his voice.
“Cass!” Azriel beams as his brother gives him an affectionate smack on the shoulder.
“Brother you look a little worse for wear,” Cassian chuckles looking at the wound I was currently cleaning.
“I’ve been better,” Azriel winces as I wrap the wound in a clean bandage.
“I heard what happened and came as soon as I could. Ran right into your princess here, causing trouble as usual,” the warrior chortles beside me making me roll my eyes.
“What?” Azriel asked, more alert than he previously was.
“You were right, the men out there are assholes,” I scoff, tying off the fresh bandage.
“Did they touch you?” he inquired, his eyes ablaze.
“Az it’s fine Cass was there,” I assure him placing a hand on his shoulder feeling the palpable tension there, like he was ready to pounce.
“Y/n did they put their hands on you?” he asks again, this time more unyielding than before.
“Yes but look at me, I'm fine!” I say with an exasperated sigh.
Azriel’s eyes flit to Cassian as he extends his hand to his brother, like he needs support.
“Cassian help me up,” he orders, already scooting to the edge of the cot.
“Azriel don’t you dare!” I shout smacking his chest. “Enough with the territorial, Illyrian nonsense! You’re injured, you’re going to get yourself killed!”
The shadowsingers body slumps back into bed in defeat with a huff, clearly upset he couldn’t pummel the shit out of a couple of lowly males who weren’t worth it in the first place.
Cassian’s chuckle reverberated through the tent, “Good to see you two picking up right where you left off,” he joked, remembering all the times we had similar quarrels.
It was the early hours of morning, and while the sun was still hiding behind the mountains, it would be rearing its ugly head soon enough. The partying and cheering from outside the tent had died down. Men either passing out drunk or choosing sleep over thoughts of what might happen tomorrow.
Cassian snored softly in the corner of the tent in the chair he took up. He had elected to stay behind and watch over us at Azriel’s request and I was smart enough to not argue with two Illyrians.
I layed on Azriel’s chest, waiting for sleep to claim me but it never came. Sleep didn’t find Azriel as well, his hand twirling through the strands of my unbound hair as we sat in silence.
“You know what kept me alive out there on that battlefield after I was injured?” Azriel whispered into the night.
“A healer that I’ll be paying a very handsome bonus to?” I laugh squeezing my arms around him a bit.
“No, you” he said seriously rubbing my shoulder
“Me?” I gawk, sitting up so I could look him in the eye.
“Yes, you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “When I was downed they thought I was dead. Horses and men clamored over me. It was all so loud, such a blur but then I closed my eyes and there you were.” he said looking at the canopy of the tent, as if remembering the event.
“It was a memory from the first time I saw you, before I even knew who you were. You were standing in the snow waiting for Rhys and your mother and there was snow all over your hair. It was the first snow of the year and you were entranced just like you always are.” He chuckles, pulling me closer. “But I knew then and there that I had to open my eyes. Had to get up. Even if it was just to see your face one more time, kiss your lips, tell you I love you. I woke up in this tent reeling from it. I could’ve sworn you were here, in the vision I felt your touch. And then hours later you storm in here with your fussing and worrying.” he says.
I feel a tear roll down my face as I cup his face, pulling his gaze from the canopy to me. I pulled his letter out of my dress pocket, the paper flopping about from how many times it had been folded and unfolded.
“I kept this letter with me every single day. I must’ve read it a hundred times, hells I might even have it memorized.” I laugh, shaking the paper in my hands. “I never once gave up hope that I would see you again. No matter what happens after tonight I still won’t give up hope. I know I’ll find you again.”
Azriel chuckles, pressing his forehead to mine, “I’d crawl home to you if I had to princess,” he says resolutely.
I wake the next morning to the sound of men moving about outside the tent and an empty cot. The covers before me are still disheveled from where Azriel slipped out from under me. I threw the blankets off the bed and pulled my cloak from where I set it last night, fastening it to my shoulders.
When I toss open the flaps of the tent I’m momentarily blinded by the bright sun before the sight of men collecting their weapons and armor come into focus. My eyes darted frantically for a trace of Azriel, surely he couldn’t have gone far, surely he wasn’t going to fight today.
“Azriel!” I call out roaming around looking for a flash of a blue siphon.
Heavy footsteps come up behind me grabbing my arm and I turn around to be met with Cassian. I looked back to the tent and realized he had been keeping watch outside.
“Cass, where is he?” I ask him, but all I’m met with is a heavy gaze from Cassian.
“Y/n?” calls a voice from behind me and I turn to see my father, mother and brother walking towards us.
My mother runs over to me taking me into her arms and holding me close. It was clear to me that they had found Rhys and instantly questioned why I wasn’t under his care.
“Thank the gods,” my mother breathed taking in my unharmed appearance.
“You smell like that Illyrian brute,” my father sneered and I knew right away he ment Azriel.
“He could have been dying,” I reply with equal venom, my gaze narrowing at the man who went through such great lengths to keep us apart.
“Of course, why do you think I sent him to the frontlines again today?” he scoffed, already turning his attention to the hordes of men preparing for battle.
My blood turned to ice in my veins and my heart plummeted.
“What?” I cried looking at Rhys who wore a solemn look on his face. “Rhys, you knew?”
My brother lets out a shaky breath, “I knew before we even arrived last night. When he tried to get you to leave I used daemati to tell him he was being sent to the front lines. He knew it would be the last time he ever saw you.” he confessed.
He knew.
Haste clouds my mind and I turn to run in the same direction with the rest of the men, my father and brother joining their ranks without another word. My mother catches me around the shoulders and pulls me into her embrace as my knees hit the muddy ground beneath us.
“No, no, no, no no!” I scream trying to run to the front, as if I could keep Azriel from death myself.
“The battle is not yet over sweetheart, he may still live,” My mother coos stroking my hair.
“He was injured mother,” my words come out as sobs as I cling to her cloak.
“Have faith,” she pleads, kneeling on the ground with me, trying to calm me as best she can.
“Azriel,” I cry. “My Azriel.”
I give into my mothers embrace and after a while she ushers me toward a tent. She wipes my face with a cool towel trying to calm my swollen eyes, but it’s no use. Every war cry, and ear rupturing blast feels like the one that takes Azriel’s life. Each one sends me back into a mess of shallow breaths and tears.
Only when the battle cries fade, and the blasts of siphons and raw power cease do my tears stop. Soldiers and Illyrains come filtering back to the camp, some whole, some being carried by their peers. My brother and Cassain are the first to find us. Rhys was unharmed, but Cassian was wheeled to a healer immediately. Thankfully, she claimed he would be alright.
I took to the masses, weaving through men making their way back occasionally running into some as my eyes were focused on the skies. Searching amongst the hordes of Illyrians flying in. If Azriel was anywhere it would be there.
“Azriel!” I shouted, my voice going hoarse from the screaming I had been doing.
More and more Illyrians fly overhead, not one of them resembling my Azriel. If he was amongst them he would see me standing out like a sore thumb amongst the rabble, going against the grain of everyone before me.
“AZRIEL!” I call out even louder, cupping my hands around my mouth as if it will help.
“Y/N!”
I hear my voice being called, not from the skies, but from the ground. My eyes snap to the crowds before me before I see a pair of wings over the top of a million heads.
“AZRIEL?!” I call out moving in the direction of the voice that called to me.
Then I see him, my Azriel. The wound on his leg is split open and his wings are pierced with a dozen arrows which explains his inability to fly. But he’s there, and he’s whole, and alive.
“Y/n!” he calls out to me again.
I pick up the skirts of my dress running to him, my shoulders bumping into all the men I weave around. I jump into his arms feeling him pick me up, pulling me impossibly close.
“Oh Az,” I breathe running a hand through his hair as my feet hit the ground again, his eyes assessing me for any injury. “My love, I thought I would never see you again,” I cried.
His thumbs wipe away my tears as he cups my face, “Death, nor a thousand evil men could keep me from you,” he smiled before pulling me into his chest.
As we hold each other, the chaos around us fades into the background. For a moment, time stands still, and all that matters is that we are together. He was here, in my arms and he was alive. Both of us were, and there were many more years ahead of us. Many, many more years.
Epilogue: third person pov
Rhysand and Feyre stood in the living room of the townhouse. The world outside was near silent as Velaris slept, having spent the day celebrating solstice. Even the faelights in the home seemed to have dimmed. Members of the Inner Circle worked to clean the dessert plates off the table where they had their magnificent feast.
“And that’s their story,” Rhys finished saying to his mate, rubbing her shoulder as they continued to admire the scene before them.
On the large couch before them y/n was asleep on top of an even sleepier Azriel, his arms, legs and wings all but draping off the edges just to keep her comfortable.
When Feyre stumbled into the adorable scene it had occurred to her that she had never heard the story of how the two came to be. Rhysand was more than happy to tell her the tale of forbidden love and near death experiences.
“They’ve been through so much,” Feyre said, leaning into Rhysand’s touch.
“They truly have,” Rhys nods, pressing a kiss to his mate's temple. “But now they get to eat too much turkey every solstice and skip out on dish duty so I think it worked out okay.” he chuckles.
Feyre slaps him on the chest playfully but laughs right along with them watching as the pair lounges on the couch, mouths open and completely and utterly relaxed. The High Lord and Lady turn from the living room to rejoin the rest of their family in the kitchen. There would be time to make fun of the princess and the shadowsinger tomorrow.
They had all the time in the world.
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#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel angst#azriel s#azriel smut#azriel spymaster#azriel x you#azriel#azriel x reader angst#azriel x reader fluff#azriel x reader smut
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Why you should listen to Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium
I didn't expect to truly write a post about this album.
Anons introduced me to its genesis, production and themes and they seemed interesting... but was there enough food for thought?
I had no idea. My expectations were positive, so I imagined I would listen to something good: I just didn't know if this album had enough for me to talk about and say something new - considering that the CCCC fans already did a great job analyzing every detail of the songs.
But when I listened to them (and read more theories/explanations), I noticed some interesting things. Things that stirred my brain and made me think. Things I wanted to talk about.
So here I am, writing a post about Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium Volume 1. I am not pretending to explain the lore or the songs in detail and I don't want to bother you with an extremely long post. All I want is to give you some material to decide if CCCC is worth a try.
And, if you've never heard about it before, I hope my words will spark your interest, because this album deserves more attention.
One last thing: please be aware I will talk about all sorts of themes, from love to suicide, because those are also the themes of the album.
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A simple plot
I can hear you, fans who have listened to the whole album: simple story?! It's complicated! It's open to interpretations!
And yes, you're right. But if we consider the core foundation on which the songs are built... well, that's quite straightforward. With this album, Chonny Jash is telling us about his struggles and how they led to a psychological split inside him into Mind, Heart and Soul. Then these three parts start fighting, until they find a way to reunite again.
And yes, we can also add that this is a time loop and things are destined to repeat themselves, but the structure is still simple, clear and concise. As clear as the tripartition of the album into Calamity, Cacophony and Concord, three parts that correspond to the story's three main points: the split, the fight, the reunion.
And this simplicity isn't a bad thing, oh absolutely not. This is perfect.
There's a common misconception that a good story should be complicated. The plot should be complex and convoluted and the more complex and convoluted it is, the better the story will be. I made this conceptual mistake too and it took me years to realize how wrong it was: the better stories are not the most complicated ones, but the simpler ones.
Why?, you may ask. Isn't a simple story proof of amateur writing - or even worse, lack of creativity?
Actually, it's quite the opposite and there are four reasons why:
If a story has a simple, clear foundation, it will be easier to build on it: a simple foundation is stable and strong, it won't break down too easily. You can add layers and metaphors and hide your plot points behind different interpretations, but your public won't get lost, because the foundation would still be clear: there are three figures, they fight, they reunite. Everyone can understand it.
If everyone can understand your foundation, your story is universal. Everyone can approach and experience it, from an old person to a child, and everyone will find something inside: a message, a feeling, a piece of advice, anything.
If your story is universal and the foundation clear, your vision is also clear. And if your vision is clear, you know what you're doing. And if you know what you're doing, your story will be much more organized too: there won't be dull/useless parts, filler, or moments in which you're just dilly-dallying, waiting for the right idea to strike.
Since your story will be more organized, the flow will be better too and the events will make sense, the public will be more prone to welcome the suspension of disbelief and immerse themselves in the story. People aren't stupid, they can subconsciously feel when an artist is confident and the story is strong. And once they feel it, you win. The public is yours now, you can guide it into your world and show your vision as you intended. And people will let you do it, because they know they're in good hands.
This is what I experienced too, the more I progressed with my listening. There was a lot of care behind every word, the lyrics kept explaining and expanding the plot and everything showed the confidence of an author who knows what he is doing and how to do it.
And there's nothing better for a story, than a confident author.
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Clear elements despite the ambiguity
Even if the foundation of CCCC is very simple, the story is enriched by a ton of ambiguities and things purposely left very vague. They may be better explained when/if Volume 2 comes out in the future, they may be left open to interpretation forever. It doesn't really matter: having a full understanding is good, but leaving everything behind a veil of mystery is a good choice as well. It depends on Mr. Jash's choice - and if my previous point wasn't clear enough, I trust this guy's choices.
However, despite the ambiguity, I also really appreciated how there are a lot of extremely clear elements in this story, starting from some events, to specific details of the main characters involved.
Some examples?
Heart tried to shoot/kill/destroy Mind
Heart's breakdown is due to something love-related
The whole series of events is stuck in a loop
Mr. Jash threatens suicide if the parts of himself don't reconcile
Mr. Jash frequently talks about how he keeps making covers of songs others made before him
And what about the details? For example, we know that every character has a specific set of elements associated with them:
an object: a blindfold (Heart), a crown (Mind), a trident (Soul)
a name: Artemis/the moon/Juno (Heart), Apollo/the sun (Mind), Atlas (Soul)
a color: black+purple (Heart), blue+white (Mind), gray+red (Soul)
And those are all elements we get from the songs and they get stuck with you, while you progress with your listening.
Again, this is a very clever choice: considering everything is open to interpretation, having some clear elements serves as "anchor points" in a sea of ambiguities. By doing that, the listeners won't get lost in a maelstrom of possibilities, but they will keep being guided down a clear path - the one traced by the main points of the album (breakdown, fight, reunion).
Also, having some fixed elements keeps everyone's attention too: some people might like to get lost in pure ambiguity, but most lose interest in a too-vague story. Even if the author had a clear plan, if everything is too obscure, people will inevitably think: "It's incomprehensible, so the author had no idea what they were doing" and ditch the story entirely.
Mr. Jash handled the ambiguity aspect very well, by balancing the obscurities with the clear elements. And this proved, once again, how clear, strong and detailed his vision is.
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Favorite character?
Ooof, that's hard.
Each character has a specific personality and that alone proves how carefully Mr. Jash planned every element related to them.
Heart is sad, desperate, apathetic, prone to self-pity, sick and tired of everything. But he's also strong enough to try and oppose Mind out of fear of what he could do. He tried to attack someone as powerful as him and take him down, just to preserve the Soul and save their vessel.
And that proves he's not weak at all: he's a lot more powerful than he seems. And, as he said, he's not a child: he felt Mind could've been a threat, so he took the matter into his own hands and tried to find a solution.
And it makes sense his solution was so drastic, because it was dictated by feelings. Because the Heart is influenced by feelings. It's perfectly coherent with the kind of character he is.
Same goes for Mind: he's cold, harsh, a threatening figure because of his design/nature. He takes control of the situation, he appoints himself as the new leader, he wants to react, do something, move forward and ignore the element he sees as the weak link.
And he definitely doesn't hold a grudge towards Heart, nope nope: my bro spent a whole song saying "Look at Heart, he's an idiot". And then, if this isn't enough, he ended his song, by calling Heart "akaryocyte": which is a cell without a nucleus. Hence, a virus.
I'll admit it: this sick burn is the sickest burn that ever burned and probably the most clever insult I've ever read and that made Mind top #1 best character of the album - sorry Heart, but Mind is too sick. (Also, I am a cold logical person too, so I ended up thinking the guy wasn't so bad after all.)
Last but not least, we have Soul. And Soul is basically shut down all the time by these two motherfuckers arguing, to the point he looks more like a shadow, rather than a real character... until he decides that you know what, time to show how confident he actually is:
You must be so arrogant to think that either of you
Can control The Soul so wholly
When to be one whole you can't hold solely
One song was enough to show Soul's true colors. He's stronger than the other two, he's more in control than them and he's the only one able to draw a line and make an actual threat: if they do not find a way to reunite, he will kill them both.
A couple words and Soul's picture got flipped: he's not just a background voice anymore, he's the leading figure now. And if he is sick and tired, then these three are facing the real shit.
But just like the other two, Soul isn't just that and we see it in The Bidding.
Here happens something incredibly beautiful: once Heart and Mind find a way to harmonize, Soul immediately rejoices: with the impatience of a child, he asks them to do it again, "One more time, go again/No, this can't be the end". Soul, this powerful figure who threatened suicide one second ago, begs them to try again, to do it "for me", because they can finally harmonize, because "I don't know how much more I can take".
Once again, with a couple sentences, we learn how heavy this whole situation has been on Soul and how eager he is to try again, once the other two find a possible harmony.
This doesn't just show how deeply Soul has been affected by the whole situation, but also (on a higher level) how strong hope is.
Soul was ready to commit suicide: a few verses before he said this was the day "we'll tie the rope". But one small step in the right direction, despite being flawed and made out of spite and resentment, was all he needed to change his mind and drop the idea of suicide entirely.
That also proves how human Soul is. Because this is what humans feel too, especially when they play with the idea of suicide. Most of the time, this idea is the result of desperation and inability to find a way out of a situation that seems impossible to overcome. But once these people find even a teeny tiny fragment of hope, the will to live overcomes desperation and people latch to said hope, no matter how small it is. And, just like Soul did here, they try to have it again, to repeat it, to feel that spark again.
Because the will to live is always much, much stronger than the desperation that leads to suicide.
_______________________________
The choice of a time loop
These three characters are stuck in a time loop: things are destined to repeat themselves. And believe it or not, but this is extremely human too - and a clever choice as well.
From a psychological perspective, Mr. Jash can "break" again anytime. Life is full of stuff and events, so... who knows? Maybe in the future, he will face another heartbreak and his Whole will break down into three once more. Or maybe it won't be because of a heartbreak: maybe something else will happen and lead to a new split, a new fight and a new reconciliation. Maybe even the lack of confidence that starts to shine in Concord is proof of a future split.
But if we think about it, the time loop works from another perspective too: a meta one.
Every time you listen to the whole album, every time to replay the songs, you are relieving the split. Every time you listen to them, Whole splits into Heart, Mind and Soul. Every time you trace their history, they split, fight and reconcile.
In other words: every replay is a new loop, a loop in which these characters are stuck - not just because of their humanity, but because they're characters and this is their story. They cannot escape from it, because that's their entire world.
I don't know if Mr. Jash thought about that while making this album... but he gave me this thought and that's just another proof of what I said at the beginning of this post: if a story is very well made, everyone can find a message inside it. And I'm sure you will find something too.
(How about a coffee? ☕)
_______________________________
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#chonnys charming chaos compendium#chonny jash#cccc#chonny mind#chonny heart#chonny soul#cj soul#cj mind#cj heart#cj whole
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I’ve had A Novel Experience bookmarked for I don’t remember how long and I finally read the first chapter yesterday and I enjoyed it a lot! And then I realized there’s. TWENTY THREE of them. I was so excited but also mad because I have to finish schoolwork, but I can’t wait to cozy up and binge all the chapters in one sitting as soon as I am done.
DU Drow is such a fucking cool character. Thank you for sharing him with us. Also, I love your art. The details in your line work is so satisfying to see because line work is my favorite part of doing illustrations and is like eye candy to me, but I haven’t had the inspiration or time to indulge myself lately.
Side question- are you okay with fanart of him (if I ever get to it heh)? Is there anything off limits?
Thank you so much for enjoying my art and giving my fic a shot!!! Yeah I went a little nuts I'll admit 😂 It was just fun to scrub some dust off my writing and scheme together a larger plot based off the base material. Absolutely no rush! Though if you have read further (I'm not sure when I got this ask, it was a bit further down in my inbox) I would love to hear your thoughts about it.
AND YEAH ABSOLUTELY I love seeing how other folks draw him!!!
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The Rogue and Gambit Project: A New Beginning (X-Men #1-3)
The true beginning of Rogue and Gambit's story really comes with the new and somewhat iconic era of X-Men. X-Men: The Animated Series drew its inspiration from the relaunch designs, and for someone who grew up with this era, it feels nostalgic as well as historic. Rogue looks and sounds like the character I grew up with. Gambit being crucial to the line up and no longer an afterthought feels pivotal. I feel like we've finally arrived.
And while I know this era isn't void of problems -- believe me, I know... I kind of enjoy this early Rogue and Gambit dynamic. It's fun and flirty and has a little bit of an edge to it. And the angst. So. Much. Delicious. Angst.
The funny part is... there really isn't a whole lot of it in these first few issues. Things don't really heat up until issue #4. Not only that, I'm gonna have to bring up Rogneto again... I'm so sorry, guys. Blame Chris Claremont.
Alright, let's dig in...
X-Men #1
Rogue in her now iconic new uniform -- this is going to be a standard for quite awhile. Get ready to see this pose a lot - Jim Lee, and artists after him, really like to do the whole one leg up, one fist out thing. Anyway, despite the fact that I (shockingly) don't like that much yellow on her - she's so pretty. I've always loved this era's hair.
Anyway, you want plot details you say?? This is Chris Claremont's last hurrah on his initial, epic 17 year run with the X-Men. And of course you can expect two things -- space shenanigans and coming full circle with Magneto as the villain. The crux of it is about Magneto possibly being a threat, despite the fact that he wants to be left alone, and of course, the X-Men get sucked into the drama.
X-Men #1
Gambit's redesign - which uses his initial costuming but man does he look so much better. He looks 'cool' in the way that all the X-Men look cool in this era. The dude can pull off the color fuchsia. That isn't easy to do. I do like, however, in color theory that the pinks and purples of Gambit goes well with the greens of Rogue's coloring. But more to the point - Gambit is pretty now, which is what we're all really here for. ;)
Anyway - because this is a relaunch, after our initial Magneto based prologue, we get a (re-)introduction to the entire team in one of my absolute favorite sequences of X-Men comics. The teams will eventually be divided into two groups; the Blue Team -- Cyclops, Beast, Rogue, Gambit, Wolverine, Psylocke, and Jubilee and the Gold Team -- Storm, Jean Grey, Iceman, Angel, Forge, and Colossus, but for now, they're one happy family doing a classic danger room sequence as designed by Charles Xavier.
X-Men #1
The whole sequence is really pretty awesome, but it leads to one of my favorite comic book moments -- where Gambit just goes for it and kisses Jean. It's a fake, robot Jean, but it's a bold move. And leads to Cyclops wanting to drop a truck on him. It's such a classic moment and I love it.
X-Men #1
Our first Rogue and Gambit panel happens right after Wolverine wins the whole training sequence (because of course he does). (Also - Claremont can't quite resist and we get a final 'bang, you dead' moment.) Meanwhile, Rogue and Gambit still haven't spoken to each other - but at least they know the other one exists. Progress, right?
X-Men #1
I really need to take a moment and appreciate the fact that most of the time during this era, when Gambit isn't in his uniform, he's running around half naked.
X-Men #1
Ug, alright, let's talk about Magneto again. This whole arc is about Magneto kind of having an existential crisis (which, you know, happens when they need to reset you to villain again). And, unfortunately, we'll get a few of these moments scattered throughout these issues of Rogue trying to talk sense and reason into him due to their 'spark' in the Savage Land. I get that someone should be a reasonable voice -- especially when the rest of the X-Men are attacking the guy before any kind of provocation. But I'm still rolling my eyes that it's Rogue. Notice he calls her 'child' during this? He'll do that throughout. Eesh.
Magneto claims that he has no beef with them and offers them all safe haven on his floating asteroid base -- Asteroid M. And guess who doesn't join him? That's right - Rogue at least has enough sense to stick with the family she knows and cares about over a possible, not really fling. Btw - I hadn't mentioned it back when I was talking about the Savage Land, but there was nothing to suggest Magneto can actually touch her. (I think that might be an Age of Apocalypse thing?)
Also, in case you think any of this sounds familiar - pretty sure X-Men '97 drew heavily from this arc for their Season 1.
X-Men #1
The first time either of them mentions the other one, and it's Gambit being sassy about whether or not Rogue should be a considered a lady. I kind of love it, actually. And love that Beast is like -- oooh, you're playing with fire on that one.
X-Men #2
They're getting more on panel togetherness! Granted it's group shots and they're taking down Magneto, but I'm taking all the scraps!
X-Men #2
Alright, well as much as I'm not a fan of the Rogue/Magneto dynamic, I'm still going to be fair and talk about it. Because it is part of Rogue's development. The key thing here though is that Rogue isn't going to compromise her values and beliefs because she may feel something for Magneto. And this will continue to ring through always through the comics. Of course, how nice of Magneto to swat her away like an annoying fly. Romance for the ages, guys.
X-Men #2
More on panel time! They're really going for all the group shots these days - probably to milk sales. But I mean, Rogue and Gambit look good just standing next to each other, so who am I to complain?
So, back to the plot... Magneto is getting pissy because the world governments are seeing him as a threat. He kidnaps Moira MacTaggart and berates her and blames her for all of his issues (because, you know, she messed with his genetics after he was de-aged, in an attempt to make him /not/ a villain). It was... a whole thing don't worry about it.
Anyway, he has Moira (somehow) brainwash the Blue Team into joining Magneto's side. Because they can't otherwise be convinced. Which, oh my gosh - what's with all the brainwashing lately?? Of course, this means it's Gold Team to the rescue...
X-Men #3
I'm going to try to document every time they're on the same cover. Also, it isn't X-Men unless there's at least an X vs X brawl every other month.
X-Men #3
Another group shot with Magneto in between them?? What can this mean??? Actually, nothing, I think it's just a coincidence. But - I really like the art here.
But.. you guys! YOU GUYS! We get our first real Romy moment in this issue! Granted - they're still brainwashed! But it's another first! Here we go...
X-Men #3
So, they're all hanging out on Asteroid M, taking it easy because - apparently that's what you do when you're a brainwashed Magneto fan. I love that Cyclops is still in his full uniform while Gambit has managed to strip down to his undies. I'm sure we can all tell who is the real fun one of the group.
You know what I like about this exchange, though? Gambit was casually complementing her diving skills and Rogue is the one who decides to get flirty about it. Of course, Gambit's going to push it further - see how far she wants to really go, and that'll cause her to run -- a dynamic that we're going to see a ton of as we go through all of this early stuff.
But for all that Gambit's going to push - it's not completely unwarranted or completely out of nowhere. Yeah, he gets flirty with the ladies on principal. Yeah, he went for kissing (fake robot) Jean unprompted because he thought he could. I won't defend some of the ickier aspects of these comics.
But... I'm fascinated by the idea of - what if she could touch? Would it still be a game to him? Would she have let it continue? Would they just have had a little fling right off the bat? Are her powers what really pushes them to have a deeper relationship than what they might have had? Just all the thoughts I'm throwing out there.
I also like that, that little moment of humor, where she knocks him into the pool, is so genuine it shakes her out of her mind control.
I also like that Gambit's genuine concern for her stops his playfulness.
It's such a tease of some great stuff coming up, and I am here for it.
X-Men #3
And that's really all we get guys. The Gold Team shows up to save the day but not before some X-Men fighting amongst each other. Magneto monologues for a while. Charles tries to get him to see reason. The people of Earth try to nuke Asteroid M and everyone gets outta there while Magneto decides to go down with the proverbial ship.
X-Men #3
This is in the closing moments of the issue - and I'm putting it here because it is Rogue talking about Magneto again -- but kind of seeing reason and how their ideologies do not work. She's trying to get Xavier to see this, and it's funny that Xavier is having a very hard time trying to let his old 'friend' go. Rogue, however, is fine. Maybe there had been a small, romantic spark of being caught up in close quarters in a shared moment. But that was all it was.
There is more to a longer lasting romance than fleeting moments due to circumstances. ;)
The X-Men take off leaving Magneto and his real followers to their fates. Of course... we know that it's never the real end of Magneto. Asteroid M may blow up, but he'll be fine.
However, I'll take a moment say that it's a poetic ending. Chris Claremont closes it out with a sort of goodbye. His tenure on X-Men is now complete, and we've fully stepped into a bright, new era!
X-Men #4 is gonna bring it. Let's do it! ;)
#xmen#x men#rogue#gambit#anna marie lebeau#remy lebeau#rogue and gambit#romy#the rg project#marvel meta#marvel#marvel comics
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The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue across the sprawling landscape of Alhazaria. Domínico stood atop the parapets of the Royal Alcazar of Zahran, his keen gaze sweeping over the kingdom he ruled. From this vantage point, he could see the diversity of his realm unfold before him — the rugged coastline stretching out along the Sapphire Sea, the rolling hills adorned with vineyards and olive groves, the majestic mountains towering in the distance, and the vast desert to the south with its shimmering sand dunes. It was a kingdom at the crossroads of two worlds, a place where the beauty of the sea met the allure of exotic landscapes.
As he looked out, Domínico's mind drifted back through the pages of history, tracing the footsteps of those who had come before him. Alhazaria was not just a kingdom; it was a living tapestry woven with the threads of generations past. The legacy of his ancestors, their triumphs and struggles, was etched into every stone and grain of sand that made up this land. He recalled the stories of King Rashid and Queen Amira, rulers who had guided Alhazaria through turbulent times, and he felt a weight of responsibility that came with his position as the current monarch.
The city below hummed with activity — the markets bustling, the distant cries of vendors, the murmurs of the people. It was a symphony of order, orchestrated by his meticulous rule. Domínico knew his subjects looked to him and relied on his intellect and stratagem to navigate the complexities of their world. He was a descendant of their gods, after all.
Yet, as the sun's glow deepened, his thoughts turned to the shifting currents beyond Alhazaria's borders. The impending union of Nunally Ambly des Ayvelles and Leopold von Furchtlos was more than a marriage alliance; it was a doorway, an opportunity—a chance for war and expansion. The tension of religious disparities, the discord of ambitions — Domínico dissected these elements with the precision of a strategist, his mind a whirlwind of calculations.
The clash of faiths, he pondered. The implications of an alliance forged on differences. He considered potential catalysts — a skirmish on the fringes of Ambly des Ayvelles' domain involving displaced polytheists seeking shelter. It was a thread he could pull, a seam he could unravel. A spark to ignite the flames of a calculated war, a war he desired for his own gain.
His fingers traced the carvings on the parapet as he imagined various scenarios. The board was set, the pieces poised, and he played with them in his mind. The reasons for war — he could conjure them as easily as he breathed. The consequences, the strategies, the victory — all painted with the strokes of his ambition.
As the sun sank lower, Domínico's thoughts turned to Ángel, his younger brother. The brother he saw potential in, an uncut gem that could be honed and shaped to serve the kingdom's ambitions. In which way he was yet to decide, but just like with anyone in the kingdom, Domínico would find a purpose for him.
" Your Grace, " Thoughts were brought to a halt and he was greeted by a familiar face — his loyal friend and confidant, Luciano. Luciano bowed slightly before meeting Dominico's gaze. " You seem preoccupied. "
" Luciano, " Domínico greeted with a nod, his eyes fixated on the kingdom sprawled below, a land ripe with potential. " You've seen the shifts in the alliances, the brewing tensions at our borders. The marriage between prince Leopold and princess Nunally — it's an opening. "
Luciano's brow furrowed as he studied Domínico's expression. " An opening for what, Your Grace? "
Domínico's lips curved into a shrewd smile, a glint of determination in his eyes. " For expansion, my friend. Our realm has stood strong for generations, our history is etched with resilience. But the time has come to seize the moment, to grow beyond our current borders. "
Luciano's gaze held a mix of understanding and concern. " Are we prepared for the consequences, Your Grace? War, bloodshed — those are not easy paths to tread. "
Domínico's eyes remained unwavering, his voice resolute. " Every great ruler in history has faced such choices. The world bows to power, my friend. Our military is strong, our alliances won't fail us — I've made sure of that, and our people are loyal. "
Luciano nodded slowly, his gaze distant as if contemplating the implications. " Even if they're loyal, will they stand with you in war after so many years of peace? I can imagine some being against it, and internal conflict will make us vulnerable — if it comes to it. "
Domínico's expression softened, his tone carrying a hint of empathy. " Change is never easy, Luciano. But our realm's progress, its advancement—that will be our legacy. We will lay the foundations for a future that resonates through the ages. That is something the people will fight for, and they will if I'm the one doing the talking. "
Luciano's lips quirked into a thoughtful smile. " You've always had a gift for turning adversity into advantage. "
Domínico chuckled, a mixture of pride and amusement in his eyes. " It's what makes a ruler. We must adapt, evolve, and master the art of the unexpected. "
" And what do you propose, Your Grace? " Luciano inquired, his curiosity piqued.
Domínico's gaze grew intense, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the parapets. " We must explore every avenue, seek out weaknesses in our potential foes, and build a case for our actions. Political moves, diplomatic gambits, calculated alliances—all leading to a unified front. "
Luciano nodded, a renewed determination gleaming in his eyes. " It shall be done as you wish. I'll send the word to those that need to hear it. You have my unwavering support, as always. "
Domínico's smile seemed genuine, but even with their bond of trust and shared purpose, Luciano had always been someone Domínico used. " I'd be grievously wounded if I didn't, " he quipped.
As night descended upon the kingdom, Domínico retreated into the depths of the palace, his mind a tempest of thoughts and plans. The future awaited, a tapestry waiting to be woven — one where faith, alliance, and ambition would converge in ways neither he nor the realm could predict. However, that didn't mean he couldn't control all of it. / @lured-into-wonderland
#永 the first word on the first page ( starter )#luredintowonderland#lured-into-wonderland#永 you can't stop sunlight with a single shadow ( domínico / interaction )#永 madness and greatness can both share a face ( domínico / king of alhazaria v. )#永 lover; hunter; friend and enemy; your mind is my home ( domínico / nunally )#I made them a tag; hope that's okay!#I am so so so excited for this thread#absolutely loved plotting this in so much detail with you
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You ever write some shit where you're like 'oh yeah I'm totally just describing what this guy is doing in his free time nothing else im just setting the scene it's unnecessarily detailed for no particular reason' and then realize you are in fact just info dumping about some shit you are interested in actually
#writing about ed edgar raising ball pythons in absurd detail in a story that is absolutely not about that bc i personally love snakes <3#down to like the specific morph of the snake and how it stays with it's siblings until after it's first shed#as if that has anything to do with anything else that's about to happen after his snake time gets interrupted by the actual plot lmao#also it is a cut over to Ed's perspective after what is just about the most intense scene in this little oneshot I'm writing#which makes it much funnier bc of the sudden change in tone#i mean that was the point. the tone contrast was very much on purpose. but it ended up a lot more intense than i expected lol#anyways I'm coping with no wifi by spending all my time writing some incredibly specific bs when i should be working on inheritance lmao#look sometimes you're running on nothing but five hours of sleep and blorbo thoughts#and you end up spending a day writing 3000 words of an incredibly specific scenario in which said blorbo gets the shit kicked out of them#and then you end the day writing a bit about his friend peacefully raising snakes and listening to cowboy music in the meantime#atlas speaks#side note. the fact that these stupid little personal posts keep ending up on my main is a testament to the power of this fandom#bc this is the type of thing that absolutely would've been quarentine to my personal blog where no one would've seen it a few months ago#so that's kind of cool
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sometimes i remember all the characters and worldbuilding that never made it into the films, and i'm both sad that not everyone got to experience them, but at the same time i'm so happy because they look only like i imagine them, they are unique, they are special, they are a bit like a secret between me and everyone else that knows the books, and they are ours only, only between the author and the readers, and those who only care about the action in the films will never get to see the world as a whole, its brilliance, never experience all those different characters and lifes and stories, and maybe it's better that way when the things that define them can't be stripped away for cinematic drama
#this is about lotr by the way#and the characters is mostly beregond im referring to#but also tom bombadil#i want everyone to be able to get to know them. i dont want them to get lost within some action film#there is so much worldbulding behind middle earth. so much Care in every single detail#if you only watch films for action and a bit of the plot i dont think you could grasp the genius of it all anyway#like the worldbuilding in lotr is something to indulge in and to obsess over (or thats how i see it)#its not an easy book to read. so when you read it at least for me its full in. im in this world. i am living there#you couldnt get that with films. as in thats literally impossible#a biscuit's rambles#anyway lets hear one loud cheer for beregond please who risked his life and job to protect faramir :)#he is the absolute best and i love him#and his relationship with pippin and everything-#ok im being carried away i could ramble endlessly about lotr
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Do you have any advice and how to write a long fic?
I'll encourage long fic writers to add on in the notes, but as someone who tends to prefer short and medium-length fic, I'll tell you how I go about it.
Get a premise that you just absolutely love. You're going to be writing this thing for months, if not longer, so you want it to be something you're willing to spend a lot of time thinking about.
Embrace subplots. You'll have your main plotline that you want to see through from beginning to end, but you can also weave in some subplots here or there. The way I do this so that I don't get lost down a rabbit hole is that I always make sure that every chapter has at least 1 thing that moves the main plot forward and then if I want to spend 1-2K with some side characters doing something fun I can do that as well. Subplots can extend for the length of the full narrative, but they can also just last a chapter or three. If you're used to writing short fic, these might give you that familiar feeling of "completion"
A chapter is only as long as it needs to be. Don't get hung up on having a consistent chapter length. Don't get hung up on hitting some arbitrary number every time. Instead, figure out what the next part of your story needs to include and write however many words it takes to get that chunk across. Varying your chapter lengths is a normal thing to do and not something to stress about.
The next thing that I find important personally may or may not be relevant to you, but I find that I can't plot anything in much detail. If I get too into the nitty gritty with my plotting, it just feels like I've already written it. I need to keep it at the level of "And then A and B meet C and hijinks ensue." I can figure out the particular hijinks later. It's the characters meeting up that's the next important thing for me to figure out. Getting too far ahead of myself is a death knell for me in writing long fics, but there are other writers who swear by it. Test out different ways of approaching it and see what works for you.
As someone who tends to write more briefly, another feature that's common to longer fics is more extensive descriptions. People spend time painting visual pictures of the setting or the characters or the actions that are happening. Write the more bare-bones style that focuses more on dialogue (if you're like me) and then go back and read through what you've just written and see if there are opportunities to add in more detail. This can lead to some really interesting characterization choices and also help you out with worldbuilding.
When it comes to worldbuilding, you don't have to get it all on the page. You just need to share what's relevant for the reader in that moment and what is useful to lay out now so that it's already there in a future chapter. You can have an encyclopedic knowledge of how your world works in your head, but it's not actually necessary. No one is going to be quizzing you later - and if they do, you can always figure it out at that point.
Most important for me when I'm trying to get myself to the end of a longer fic, have a friend or a group of friends who are also into what you're writing - or at least willing to hear you get excited about it. Being able to get excited about your work is so important. It's like a bottle of water being handed to you on mile 10 of a marathon.
#asks and answers#long fic writers go!#and short fic writers who have successfully written long#how did you go about it?#long post
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˖⁺｡˚⋆˙obsessed with u | LN4 ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙
pairing: lando norris x ln4 admin/photographer!reader y/n (she/her)
genre: social media au, new relationship
warnings: none just a lot of fluff!!
summary: in which a podium means you and your boyfriend hard launch a little bit early <3
a/n: omg i feel like this fanfic revived me and im back fr 🙏 hope it's ok OMG i rly tried to make a good plot but i fear i got no inspo atm anyway i fancy lando soooo badly atm it's rly shocking how bad i want him anyway ENJOY!!!! hope it dont suck ballzzz ahhhhhhhh
request!!!: lando x reader smau where reader is the admin of the Instagram account lnfour. You absolutely have the liberty of what you wanna do with it
fc: various blonde girls from pinterest
my masterlist
instagram ->
landonorris posted a story
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user1 stop soft launching and tell us who she issss
user2 need details
user3 👀 mr lando norris plz spill
carlossainz55 cute
liked by landonorris
yourusername posted a story
liked by yourbff, landonorris, and 18,204 others
yourbff ugh lil cuties
liked by yourusername
user4 so cute
friend1 aww look at you guys
liked by yourusername
lnfour 📍 melbourne, australia
liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 183,927 others
lnfour ready for the weekend 🦘
tagged: landonorris
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user5 any sign of the gf then? 👀
user6 i love y/n's photographyyy
user7 same she's got the female gaze downnnn
user8 he's so hot
liked by lnfour
user9 admin leak who his gf is to us plz xxx
user10 i have a good feeling about this weekend's race 🙏
lnfour us too!!! 🕯️
interview ->
twitter ->
instagram ->
lnfour
liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and 201,723 others
lnfour anyone else hoping for a big reveal this weekend then?
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carlossainz55 yes, me
lnfour 😂
user16 HELLOOO???
user17 urm wait guys hear me out
user18 let me guess you think he's dating y/n
user17 👀
user19 who is y/n omg im losttttt
user20 literally lnfour admin and photographer lol
landonorris 🤷♀️
liked by lnfour
user21 STRESSSS
user22 heart palpitations
yourusername posted a story
liked by landonorris, yourbff, and 31,022 others
landonorris damn who's that sexy man
yourusername 🙄
user23 HMMMM
user24 lando & y/n dating???
user25 that your man?
yourbff stop coz they're connecting the dots y/n
yourusername what dots?!!!
yourusername
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yourusername it's race day mi amigos
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user26 mi amigos... muchos debris... they're meant to be perhaps
user27 some of you are reaching doesn't y/n have a bf already?
user28 she's been soft launching but nothing is confirmed so it could be anyone 👀
landonorris keep me in your thoughts and prayers
yourusername 😂 always!
user29 they're in love
user30 dramatic much
user31 wouldn't it be weird for lando to date someone he works with 😭
oscarpiastri let's goooooo
yourusername 💪
landonorris posted a story
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lnfour 💪💪💪💪💪💪 you got this
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user32 URM HELLOOOO
user33 hi y/n
user34 hmmmmmmmm
user35 this is a big enough reveal to me .. 😇
lnfour posted a story
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user36 🤞🤞🤞🤞
user37 we're gonna win babyyyyyyy
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mclaren posted a story
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lnfour 🧡🧡🧡
user38 AHHHHHHHHHHH
user39 our boyyy
user40 big reveal when?
yourusername so proud
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user41 p1 next time
twitter ->
instagram ->
yourusername posted a story
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carlossainz55 so cute of him
yourusername CONGRATULATIONS CARLOS ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
user42 are you going to celebrate together
user43 AWWWW HE'S SO CUTE
charles_leclerc a handsome boy
yourusername 😊😊😊😊
oscarpiastri you'll come out celebrating with us?
yourusername wouldn't miss it for the world
alexandrasaintmleux posted a story
liked by landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 14,928 others
user44 she's such a wag without even being a wag
user45 love her
user46 oh to be in this friend group 😭
user47 she's so mother
oscarpiastri posted a story
liked by yourbff, landonorris, and 282,016 others
user48 IS THAT Y/N AND LANDO
user49 lando and y/n omg??
user50 OMG?????
landonorris delete
yourusername delete
*this story has been deleted*
twitter ->
instagram ->
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yourusername not hiding it anymore then?
landonorris guess not 👀
yourbff AHHHHHH ily guys
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user56 scream
user57 BIG REVEAL?!
lnfour
liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and 118,045 others
lnfour this weekend hit different
tagged: landonorris, carlossainz55
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user58 YEA I BET IT DID
user59 just missing charles!!!!
user60 i love lando and carlos' friendship sm
user61 interesting
user62 not her acting like nothing is going on 😝
user63 WE KNOW
yourusername
liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 221,673 others
yourusername hits different cause it's u
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user64 peep oscar
lilyzneimer pretty couple 🫶
liked by landonorris, yourusername
user65 omgggg mclaren wag bffs
alexandrasaintmleux ily y/n
yourusername ilysm❤️🧡
yourbff GORGEOUS COUPLE
liked by yourusername, landonorris
user66 omg im so excited
user67 best big reveal ever
landonorris wow. look at u
yourusername donttttt. you'll make me blush 😭
user68 i love them omg
landonorris posted a story
liked by yourusername, yourbff, and 599,738 others
user69 AHHH TERRITORIAL LANDO YES PLSSS
user70 god she's hot
yourusername NOOO I SAID STOP I'LL BLUSH😭😭😭😭😭
landonorris you think i dont want that???!
yourusername obsessed with u omg
landonorris obsessed with u a lot more trust
THE END 🧡
#f1#f1 smau#f1 fanfic#smau#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 imagine#lando norris#ln4#lando x reader#ln4 smau#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fluff#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 x reader#ln4 x you#ln4 one shot#maddie's smau
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hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)
A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚
Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.
Masterlist
Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were.
“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized.
“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight.
“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-”
“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.”
The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot.
He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans.
“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.”
“Turn around.”
You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day.
You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist.
“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”
“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”
“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.”
Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest.
His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him).
With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all.
“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you.
Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life.
The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.
“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention.
“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet.
“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-”
“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.”
“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”
“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”
The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on.
“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter.
“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question.
“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?”
The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?”
xxxxx
A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance.
You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime.
You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character.
“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave.
Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view.
The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair.
A girl could dream.
“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.”
Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw.
“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.
“What? Why?”
“I don't hit women.”
“And I do? Emily, wha-”
But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame.
Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door.
“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?”
“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.”
“You make a good point, shall we begin?”
He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender.
“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?”
You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it.
You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane.
There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.
“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”
He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head.
“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight but not bruising yet.
“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?”
He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs.
“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.”
“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.”
He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention.
“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little.
You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints.
He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again.
“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow.
“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes.
“Y/N, put it down.”
“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab.
“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.”
His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward.
“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged.
“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”
It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat.
You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun.
Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning.
“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?”
You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat.
“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”
You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back.
“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.”
His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties.
“I can tell.”
If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute.
“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.”
He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach.
“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.”
His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better.
Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers.
A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor.
“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun.
“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.”
He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you.
“Yes, yes, please touch me.”
The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue.
The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table.
You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.
Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy.
“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure.
The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you.
“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.”
You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window.
“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path.
“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…”
Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free.
You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick.
As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple.
“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.”
Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release.
But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him.
“If you need something, use your words, Agent.”
“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged.
The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting.
“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you.
“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls.
Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster.
Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug.
His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair.
“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-”
“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck
“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.”
Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms.
“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?”
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n
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Behold my labor of love: Astarion SMUT.
This idea came to me after writing my last fic Something Imagined / Something Real. I wanted to backtrack and reimagine Astarion and Tav's first night together after the tiefling party.
If smut is not your thing, no worries! You can scroll down to the first set of asterisks (***) to avoid reading those parts. You don't miss much at all plot-wise.
This is my first time ever writing smut. Please be kind. And I hope you enjoy!
EDIT: This is a flashback fic! Part 2 is Something Imagined / Something Real. And subsequent vignettes to come!
I Want It To Be You
Rating: Mature/NSFW
Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav
Word Count: 5.2K
Warnings: Detailed description of consensual sex, Tav's first time having sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, description of panic attack/anxiety, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst
“Are you absolutely certain about this? About… me?”
If she weren’t already lying naked in his arms, she would have shed her clothes for him for that response alone. He wasn’t treating her like some oddity. And he was honoring her decision. It was more than anything Tav had dared hope for.
Her eyes welled with tears that threatened to fall. She laughed, suddenly elated, before nodding her head vigorously.
“I’m sure, Astarion,” she confirmed. “I want this to be with you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWO WEEKS AGO
THE NIGHT OF THE TIEFLING PARTY
Let’s wait until things quiet down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.
Astarion’s parting words replayed over and over again in her head as she padded quietly through the woods, away from the campsite. From the comfort and familiarity of the party. They hadn’t agreed on a meeting place, but Tav assumed his heightened senses would locate her soon enough. She was grateful for the extra moments to herself. Her stomach was knotted from nerves and anticipation for what the night might bring.
She hadn’t told him that she was a virgin. He probably deserved to know, she realized that, but she hadn’t wanted him to change his mind just because he’d be taking something no one else had before. It was her choice, her body to give, she reasoned to herself. Whether for the first time or the hundredth time, it shouldn’t matter. Right?
Her past experiences certainly influenced her reticence. Divulging that particular information about herself had resulted in people immediately halting romantic pursuits with her, or leering at her like she was some sort of top-shelf prize they were about to take home. She didn’t want to know if, or where, Astarion might land on that spectrum. Didn’t think her heart could take either reaction from him. Besides, she’d read enough of those dirty romance tomes and scrolls throughout her life (for educational purposes, of course, she justified to herself) to have a general understanding of what happens during sex. Surely she could bluff her way through this. Right?
She wanted to please him. Wanted him to want her as much as she wanted him. It was no secret that Astarion had quickly become her favorite companion in this unlikely band of heroes she was traveling with. He was absolutely gorgeous, of course, but the longer she lingered around him, the less that seemed to matter. He was funny, in a devilish sort of way. Intelligent and cunning. Perceptive. And, while it was obvious that it unsettled the rest of the group, she genuinely appreciated how he prioritized his own self before bending over backwards to help someone else. Secretly, she wished she could emulate that a bit more in her own life, but years and years of people pleasing to win what scraps of affection she could was a hard habit to break.
Clearly she was no closer to doing so, as there she stood. In the middle of a forest. Preparing for a midnight tryst with a person she had just met but grown to genuinely care for. And she wasn’t even sure that he would, or wanted to, return her sentiments.
“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”
Astarion’s voice broke the mundane quiet of the forest that had lulled her into such ruminations. She turned toward the direction she had heard him speak and marveled at the sight of him slipping gracefully between the trees, moving ever slowly toward her.
He had removed his shirt and was clad only in his leather breeches and boots. His alabaster skin practically glowed in the silvery light of the moon. He was the most beautiful person Tav thought she had ever laid eyes on, and it wasn’t only because she could now see the taut, sinewy muscles of his abdomen. He was perfectly fit in an elegant sort of way. Not like Halsin, with large bulging biceps, thick torso and sturdy legs. No, Astarion was like a leopard. Lithe, agile, regal even. And his face. Gods, the poets and painters could opine for centuries on his beautiful face without ever growing weary.
“Is that so?” Tav called out in reply, walking to close the distance between them. By her estimate, she sounded much braver than she felt. Good.
Astarion nodded, raising one hand to cup her cheek. “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he finished, the pad of his thumb grazing sensually across her lower lip.
“You don’t have me yet,” she whispered teasingly, although both of them were clearly aware of how she had shivered when he touched her. How her head bowed into his touch, like a lovesick little thing.
“Don’t I?” he smirked. “You’re here. And I don’t think you want to talk.” He stepped closer, completely absolving them both of any personal space. His free hand came to rest along the curve of her waist.
“I think you want to be known. To be tasted.” He purred, lowering his head so that his lips ghosted the shell of her ear while he spoke.
Tav was thankful for the steadiness of his hands on her. His insinuations alone were quickly rendering her a quaking mess. But she didn’t want to be a selfish lover, and so she collected herself enough to pose a question in return.
“What do you want, Astarion?” she asked, bringing a hand to rest softly against his chest, over his heart.
She noted the way his brows drew down briefly, seeming almost confused by her question. But as quick as it came, the expression vanished, replaced by something much more confident. More assertive.
“What do any of us want?” he breathed. “Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”
Gently, so very gently, he began to trail hot, open-mouth kisses down the column of her neck. Tav’s breath caught audibly in her throat, and Astarion hummed in approval at her response.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?,” he murmured into the crook of her neck. “To lose yourself in me?”
It was fast becoming difficult for her to string two thoughts together. Astarion touching her like this sent shockwaves throughout her body. That curious heat she’d only known from touching herself began to kindle low in her belly. She clenched her thighs together subconsciously, trying to sate that feeling the fire was stirring up inside her. Astarion noticed her squirming, to his immense satisfaction.
“Well?” he coaxed in between kisses across her collarbone. His prompting reminded Tav that she had yet to answer his question, so lost was she in the feeling of his cool lips against her rapidly warming skin.
“I want to be with you. Share this night with you,” she answered honestly, unable to spare enough brain capacity to consider whether or not it was a good idea to be so forthcoming.
“Such a charitable little thing,” he chuckled. “How could I deny you?”
And then his mouth captured hers. It was a searing, passionate kiss. A kiss that promised so much more pleasure to come. One that Tav had never known before, despite having partaken in her fair share of kisses over the years. But this kiss? This was the kiss of time-fated lovers. And Tav was desperate to match Astarion’s pace, desperate to feel more, more, more.
She moaned as he ran his tongue lightly against the seam of her lips, granting him entry to fully sweep in and plunder her mouth proper. Her fingers carded through his silvery blonde curls, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating in her mouth.
She finally was forced to break their kiss after a few moments, hungrily gulping in air to alleviate her starving lungs. Astarion moved to ravage her neck once more, licking and sucking the soft delicate skin there. He gripped her ass possessively as he did so, walking her backwards until he was pressing her into the nearest tree.
He lifted a knee to knock her legs apart before raising it higher to press into the juncture of her thighs. He delighted at how Tav immediately parted her legs for him, how she moaned from the pressure, how she subconsciously began grinding against him.
“Look at you, you naughty thing” he crooned in her ear. “Riding my leg for some relief?”
Primal behavior called out, a scarlet blush immediately bloomed on Tav’s neck and cheeks. It only goaded Astarion further.
“Go on then, darling. Rut against me. But I’m getting these lovely tits free first,” he whispered.
He began undoing the laces on the front of her corset. Tav watched his progress, entranced by the gracefulness of his long, slender fingers. She was nearly trembling with anticipation. Once finished, she helped him extract her from the offending garment and allowed him to lift her chemise up, over her head, so that she was fully bare from the waist up. The cool night air turned her skin to gooseflesh, her nipples hardening.
The sensation roused her lust-addled brain enough to realize just how vulnerable she was, standing there half-naked before him. She’d never been so exposed to another person before. Her fingers fluttered as she fought the sudden bout of nerves that insisted she cover her breasts from view.
“Don’t you dare,” Astarion growled, plainly reading the self-conscious expression on her face. “I’ve been dying to see these for days now,” he continued, cupping one full breast and flicking her nipple lightly with his thumb.
It sent a pulse thrumming directly to her core, and Tav moaned openly at the sensation. She could feel her simple linen breeches were completely drenched, was certain she was also dampening Astarion’s leg as she continued to grind against him.
Astarion chuckled, clearly pleased by her reaction.
“So responsive,” he whispered before lowering his mouth to latch onto her breast. He sucked lightly, while his hand continued its assault on the other. She fisted his hair in one hand, kissing the top of his head lovingly while he worked her into a frenzy.
Tav felt like she was quickly losing any ability to maintain balance. Her body was aching, whining, for more. She wanted to be laid out on the ground, wanted him to press her into the soft earth, taking everything.
“Astarion, please,” she panted, pulling at his curls. He groaned in response, releasing her nipple from his mouth.
“Please what, pet?” he teased, kissing and licking up her sternum.
“I need… more,” she whined, bucking against his leg.
He huffed a laugh before sweeping her up in one smooth motion and lowering her to the soft grass beneath their feet.
He began to loosen the fastenings of her breeches with a practiced ease. Tav watched, breathless, as he slid the fabric down her thighs, his mouth following with indolent, open-mouthed kisses. Each touch of his lips on her heated skin left her skin tingling, her hips canting slightly into the open air.
Finally bare before him, she watched as Astarion surveyed her from where she lay beneath him. In nearly all respects, he looked primed and ready to ravage her. His nostrils flared, detecting the heady scent of her arousal. His chest rose and fell with shallow, ragged breaths. For the first time, she took note of the considerable erection straining against the leathers he still wore.
After a moment, he came down to lie beside her, pulling her onto her side so that her chest was pressed flush against his. He trailed a hand down her side, over the rise and fall of her curves, until he reached her thigh. He hiked her leg onto his hip.
But something was off. Amid her clouded thoughts, Tav thought she could sense it, even if she couldn’t precisely put a finger on it. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes? Or the perfect nature of his behavior? He seemed almost too practiced, too formulaic. Like an actor who’s rehearsed their lines to the point that the words have lost their meaning. He was there with her, but somehow he wasn’t, at the same time.
“Are you all right?” Tav asked in a hushed voice, lifting a hand to cup his neck. She rubbed soothing circles with her thumb across his jawline.
“I’m more than all right, darling,” he replied with a smirk, squeezing her ass lightly.
“You seem like… you’re not wholly present,” she explained.
“It’s difficult to decide what I’d like to do to you first,” he reasoned, sidestepping her unspoken question. “I’m torn between tasting you with my tongue, or fucking you with my fingers,” he smirked.
Before she could respond, his fingers took an experimental swipe between her folds. She gasped at the feeling, her hips bucking against him. She watched, speechless, as he lifted that hand to suck the wetness from his fingers. Her wetness. In his mouth.
He groaned in approval. “Mmm. You’re pure sweetness, darling.”
All thoughts eddied from her mind. A singular, primal focus took over, and she suddenly clutched at Astarion’s neck with newfound ferocity.
He seemed to know exactly how his behavior had affected her, if his impish grin was anything to go by. He lowered his hand to swipe against her once again, his fingers stopping to circle that sensitive bud at the apex of her thighs. Tav jerked in response, but Astarion had been prepared for it. He used his other arm to brace against her back, locking her in place against him.
As she writhed against his hand, he repositioned himself to insert a finger inside her. She was deliciously warm and soaking wet. Soft, like velvet. His thumb continued to circle her clit, eliciting a long, low moan from Tav. Embarrassed, she attempted to muffle her voice by ducking her face into his chest.
He chuckled again. “That’s it, sweet one. Let me hear you,” he goaded her. Her moans pitched higher in response.
After a few moments of pistoning in and out of her, he inserted a second finger. But despite how drenched she was, he met considerable resistance, to his surprise. He stilled his fingers in response, uncertain.
It took a moment for Tav to register that Astarion had stopped moving inside her. Caught somewhere between discomfort and satisfaction, the increased sense of fullness his two fingers brought was strange but not altogether unwelcome. She exhaled, but it came out as more of a hiss than a sigh. After a moment of stillness, she raised her head to look at him.
“What is it?” she questioned..
“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Astarion murmured.
Tav flushed. He’d realized, despite her best efforts to cover up that truth. Absently, she wondered what had given her away.
She said nothing at first, just studied him. He didn’t seem angry. But then again, she had quickly learned that Astarion was very skilled at masking his true feelings.
“No. I haven’t,” she admitted.
At her reply, he gently removed his fingers from inside her. He moved his hand to clutch her hip instead.
She sighed, rolling onto her back, gazing up at the stars. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”
Silence. It felt deafening in her ears. But then –
“I’m a bad choice, darling,” he replied, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over her hip bone. She failed to see the sad smile that graced his mouth. “A terrible choice, really. For your first time.”
“It’s my decision,” she retorted, lolling her head to the side so she could look him straight in the eyes. “I want it to be you, Astarion. But if this is going to be a… problem for you, or become some ordeal where you feel guilty or weirdly triumphant, then we can just–”
“It’s not a problem for me. It’s your decision,” he affirmed softly, interrupting the beginning of her tirade. Some unknown emotion flitted across his features. He schooled his expression before she could really identify it.
“But I have to ask,” he continued, studying her seriously. “Are you absolutely certain about this? About… me?”
If she weren’t already lying naked in his arms, she would have shed her clothes for him for that response alone. He wasn’t treating her like some oddity. And he was honoring her decision. It was more than anything Tav had dared hope for.
Her eyes welled with tears that threatened to fall. She laughed, suddenly elated, before nodding her head vigorously.
“I’m sure, Astarion,” she confirmed. “I want this to be with you.”
His eyes softened, obviously touched by her response. It was the first time tonight, she realized, that he had appeared vulnerable to her. He was staring at her as though he were seeing her for the first time. Like he couldn’t believe that the woman between his arms was real.
Without another word, he captured her mouth in a passionate kiss. His tongue swept in her mouth at the same time he inserted his fingers again, tasting her gasp of pleasure. His thumb began circling her clit once more, and Tav was powerless to silence her moans.
“Good. So good, sweet girl,” he whispered in her ear after a few moments. “You’re so close.”
She let loose a whine, squeezing her eyes shut as she chased that ever-nearing precipice inside her. Astarion’s voice in her ear only pushed her that much closer.
“That’s it. Come for me,” he urged, and she felt her orgasm rip through her at his words. Stars collided behind her eyes as she tumbled from that cliff of pleasure, Astarion holding her and whispering soft praises as she floated back down to earth.
Eventually her eyes fluttered open to see Astarion smiling openly at her. She felt her lips stretch up to return his grin.
“That was… incredible,” she breathed.
He huffed a soft laugh. “I’m not nearly finished with you. Unless you’d like to sto–”
“No,” Tav blurted, a little too loudly, interrupting him. “No. I want more. Please. Show me.”
“Of course, darling” Astarion promised, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. He gently released her and stood, beginning to remove his own clothing. Tav watched him brazenly, drinking in the sight of him.
She moaned softly as he removed his breeches, his impressive length springing free. He remained still, allowing her to take in the sight of him fully naked before her. Curious, she sat up and lifted a hand to wrap around him. She marveled at the way he felt. Like velvet-wrapped steel. She gave a tentative stroke, thrilling as he groaned in response. She stroked him again, harder, intent on learning how to give him as much pleasure as he’d already given her.
But he stayed her wrist with a gentle touch of his hand. She paused, looking up at him, confused.
“As exquisite as teaching you how to stroke me would be,” he explained in a sultry voice, “I’m much more interested in teaching you something else tonight.”
Tav nodded mutely, lying back once more. She opened her legs for him to return to her. Astarion smiled, lowering himself on top of her. He braced his forearms on either side of her head, one hand absently combing through her hair. His hips fit perfectly in the cradle of her thighs, and she moaned as she felt him gently nudge against her entrance.
“This is going to hurt at first,” he explained in a hushed whisper. She nodded, her breathing a bit uneven in anticipation of what would come next.
“But then it will stop. You’ll stretch around me. And then it will feel good,” he continued.
She nodded again, trying to remain focused on his words. But the primal part of her mind was warring against her. And it was winning. She subconsciously bucked her hips into him, marveling as she felt him slip between her folds just slightly. He hissed at the sensation, clenching his jaw.
“Greedy little thing,” he chastised teasingly. “All right, enough talking. But you will tell me if you need to stop, yes?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I promise.”
“Good girl,” he purred.
And then slowly, gently, he sheathed himself fully inside her with a groan.
Tav gasped in response. It was unlike any feeling she had ever felt before. Astarion had been right; it was painful at first. A pinching sensation. A mind-bending feeling of fullness. But then, but then, the feeling was phenomenal. She felt her walls stretch to accommodate him, felt herself clench around him, accepting him in his entirety.
Astarion’s head dropped to the crook of her neck. His whole body trembled, as if it was taking all his restraint to remain still so she could grow accustomed to him.
She canted her hips into him a bit, testing the waters. He groaned again in response, and she released a breathy chuckle.
He raised his head at the sound, peering down at her. “You little minx,” he breathed. “You have no idea what you’ve started.”
She thrilled at his words, crying out in ecstasy as he began to thrust in and out of her. The pace he set was addicting; the rhythm had her pushing her hips up to meet him, her legs locked around his back to pull him closer.
“You’re taking me so, so well, darling,” Astarion grunted, ratcheting up his pace. “You’re so tight. So. Perfectly. Fucking. Tight.”
His words were a fuel to her flame. She cried out his name again and again as he continued to rut into her, reveling in the feeling of him claiming her completely and totally. She was lost to the sensations, adrift in the fullness of Astarion inside her.
Finally, or perhaps all too soon, she felt his pace begin to grow more erratic. His hips lost their rhythmic pumping. His groans grew louder. Sensing his release was close, Tav clutched him tighter, digging her heels in his back to pull him closer, clenching around his length inside her.
“Yes, yes, FUCK,” he barked all at once, and her eyes rolled back into her head as he slammed himself to the hilt inside of her one final time. She could feel his release spilling inside her.
Lost for words, she simply held Astarion as he half-collapsed on top of her, one arm still braced on the ground beside her head. Listless, euphoric, and utterly at peace, Tav raised one arm to gently caress his back, listening to his erratic breaths slow. Distantly, she noted the raised, rough sensation of scars on his upper back, but she was too consumed by their mutual pleasure to give it a further thought.
Eventually, Astarion slipped out of her. He lowered himself to lie down beside her, curling one arm around her waist.
Tav closed her eyes and curled into his side, suddenly overcome with drowsiness. “Thank you, Astarion” she whispered faintly.
“For what, my darling?” he crooned, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.
“For making my first time so wonderful,” she replied.
She was asleep before he could think of a sufficient response.
***
The panic was a monstrous thing. Clawing at his chest, its vice-like grip squeezing his lungs until inhaling felt like breathing through a reed. He could barely think. Barely move. Barely registered the lovely woman still sleeping peacefully beside him.
The part of his brain that wasn’t frozen in fear chastised himself for behaving this way. He had taken plenty of virgins before. In fact, he had sought them out specifically. They were a much easier prey. They became attached to him so quickly, attributed so much more meaning to their first bout of lovemaking than perhaps more… seasoned individuals.
He should have been elated. She was obviously besotted with him. His plan to ensure her loyalty was moving forward without a hitch. So then why was he feeling so horrible?
He turned to observe Tav. So close to him and yet so far away. Swept into that blissful sleep that continued to elude him. He watched her chest rise and fall with deep, steady breaths. Watched her eyelids twitch as her mind made its way through some dream. She was so very vulnerable in this position. And so very trusting. Of him, of all people.
Astarion didn’t like many people. But he had developed a fondness for Tav, despite the short period of time they had known one another. She treated him like a person, not a monster. Not like the others in their party. She seemed to accept him for who he was, cynicism and vanity and all. He couldn’t remember ever knowing someone as kind to him as she was. She was… incredible.
And then it struck him. He was developing… something… for her. Feelings? Affection? The sentiments were so foreign to him, he didn’t even know what to call it.
But the realization caused panic to clutch him even tighter. No. He couldn’t feel this way. He wouldn’t.
This thing with Tav was purely transactional. It had to be. There was no other viable option. She had needed to feel something with someone. He had needed to secure an ally. That was all.
That is all this is, he thought, quashing the weak sentimental part of his mind.
And come morning, he resolved he would make certain that that was all this was for her as well.
***
Tav woke to the sound of birds chirping, high in the trees above her. The early morning sunlight filtered in through the forest, dappling her skin and warming her in the places that it touched. Opening her eyes, she spied Astarion, already dressed and standing a few paces in front of her.
His back was facing her, his face lifted toward the sun. She noted how he held his arms outstretched by his sides, palms facing up as though he were trying to collect all the sunlight pouring into their little grove. Despite his preternatural sense of hearing, he didn’t seem to be aware that she’d awoken, so lost was he in his enjoyment of the sun’s rays.
Tav’s heart nearly swelled to bursting as she watched him. Before all of this, he hadn’t felt the sunlight on his skin in over 200 years. Now, he was reveling in it. His joy was such an innocent, pure thing.
How many times had Tav taken the sun warming her skin for granted? Probably all of her life, she supposed. To see someone so appreciative of something so utterly mundane to her… well, it was a sobering reminder to acknowledge those little pleasures in life, especially the ones that seemed so constant to her.
She also took the time to study the strange pattern of scars on his back. She had felt some of the rough ridges last night, as she clutched him closer while he spilled himself inside her. But she hadn’t realized just how intricate and intentional the markings were. The sight of them sparked a rage inside her. Whoever the monster was who’d done this to him, they deserved to pay a price worse than death.
Someday soon, she swore she would ask him about those markings. But not today. Not right now. Not in the aftermath of spending such a wonderful night together. No, the only thing she wanted for them both today was to revel in post-coital bliss.
Not wishing to startle him, Tav intentionally laid back to stretch out her blissfully sore muscles, rustling the grass and fallen leaves around her. She threw in a halfhearted yawn for good measure. Secretly, she hoped he would return to her, take her again in this quiet forest, beneath the warmth of the sun.
“You sleep light,” Astarion chuckled, half-turning to speak to her but not meeting her gaze. “I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.”
Tav hesitated at his tone. It wasn’t cold per se, but he sounded much more guarded than he had been last night. Perhaps she was just being extra sensitive in light of what they had shared, she reasoned.
“Did you enjoy it?” she asked hesitantly. She watched his back, waiting for a reply. “It felt like… you weren’t truly there…” she added, after a beat of silence.
“I was… holding back a little, it’s true,” he finally responded. “I didn’t want to lose control. Delicious as you were… I didn’t want to go too far.”
“Oh, I see,” Tav replied, a bit dismayed. “I’m sorry you felt that way.”
Astarion turned and gave her a trademark smirk. “Think nothing of it, darling. Now,” he intoned, clapping his hands together. “Shall we get on? We’ve wasted enough time already.”
The words were like a lance to her heart.
“I… I didn’t consider it a waste,” she murmured, trying with some difficulty to hide her hurt.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Astarion huffed. “I just meant I’d like to break camp and get out of here before those tieflings drag us into another one of their messes.”
“Sure, of course,” Tav nodded, smiling up at him, though it came across as more of a grimace. Then she broke eye contact, bending over under the guise of collecting her discarded clothing. Really, she didn’t think she could look at him a moment longer without crying.
“I still need to dress,” she said, attempting a casual sort of air. “You go ahead without me.”
She sensed rather than saw Astarion hesitate at her suggestion.
“Are you sure? We’re a fair walk from camp. I can spare a few moments and wait.”
“Positive,” she replied with false cheer. “Go on ahead. The last thing either of us need is the party jeering at us if we’d return together.”
“Fair point,” Astarion conceded. “All right. Then… I’ll see you, back at camp.” Then he was walking away, back toward the direction of their fellow party members.
Tav waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps before she let loose a quiet sob. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was crying. Maybe it was just the stress of everything that had finally overwhelmed her. Maybe it was how abysmally this morning had gone. She didn’t know how she’d expected the morning after a sexual tryst to go, but she certainly hadn’t imagined what had just taken place. She hadn’t expected Astarion to slip that aloof mask he wore so well immediately back on, not when it was still just the two of them here.
Then again, she reasoned, perhaps there was a perfectly justifiable reason for his actions. They barely knew one another, after all. He didn’t owe her anything beyond general respect. They hadn’t made any promises or ties to one another. They had simply agreed on a night of pleasure. That night had passed on. She should move on as well. Right?
But she had hoped. Oh, she had hoped. That maybe last night could have been the start of something new for her. For both of them. She knew she was a dreamer at heart. But still, part of her couldn’t help but hope that some silver lining would come out of all of this mess.
In any case, she knew she needed to pull herself together before reentering the camp. She would not let anyone see her cry, especially Astarion. So she remained standing in the grove for a few moments longer, collecting herself.
She forced her mind to focus on anything, anything else. She counted the birds she saw flitting amongst the tree limbs. She watched leaves swirling in their light, airy dance toward the ground. And she said a silent prayer to whatever gods were out there and possibly listening. She prayed that everything would work out the way it was meant to be.
#astarion x tav#astarion x mc#astarion x reader#astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion bg3#astarion x f!reader#bg3 astarion fic#tav x astarion#baldurs gate astarion#astarion baldurs gate#bg3 fanfiction#dancingbirdiewrites
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𝚸𝐋𝚬𝚨𝐒𝐔𝐑𝚬 𝐑𝚬𝚨𝐃𝚰𝚴𝐆
ft. alhaitham, diluc, thoma, kazuha
syn: they take an interest in the book you've been reading recently
cw: suggestive, mentions of erotic novels, gn!reader
a/n: i'm iffy on diluc's, but v proud of alhaitham's
❁ alhaitham
in all the time you'd been together, he'd never seen you so engrossed in a book before. he'd seen you read many times, but not with such an intense look in your eyes, like you were devouring whatever lay within those pages. it piqued his curiosity, to say the least.
the most interesting part of it all was the fact you never left it unattended. almost as if you didn't want him to look at it. he'd tried to peek over shoulder at point only for you to shift your position on the couch so he couldn't see the pages. that annoyed him. but made him all the more determined to find out what the books was.
his moment finally arose when he noticed the book laying peacefully on your nightstand. he'd come home ready for a nap but that initially plan was forgotten the moment he laid eyes on that little tome. he carried it to the living room and made himself comfortable as he opened to the first page, pleasantly surprised by the contents within.
hours later you found him lounging on the couch, nose tucked into a book. it was far from an unusual sight. until you took a second glance at the book in his hands. it dawned on you then that you had forgotten to tuck it into the drawer of your nightstand before you fell asleep last night, and in your rush to leave on time that morning it remained in plain sight. heat rose to your cheeks as you took him in. he was completely unfazed as he turned the page.
"alhaitham," you said, voice weak. he didn't acknowledge your presence. "what are you reading?"
"it's your book, you should know. don't bother asking a question you know the answer to, it's a waste of breath." his eyes trailed the words printed on the paper as he spoke, still not looking at you.
you tried to take the book from his hands but he moved it out of your reach with one hand and caught your wrist with the other. "haitham, please," you whined, tugging weakly against his grip. he let you go without a fight. "put the book down."
"why? i'm almost finished with it."
with a pathetic groan, you threw yourself on the couch next to him, waiting in agony until he finally snapped the book shut with one hand. you peeked at him from the corner of your eye, but his expression gave nothing away.
"you have an interesting taste in literature," he said, finally, "but i can't fault you, it's well written and the plot is captivating."
"that's all?" you asked, expecting more from him. mostly something chastising.
he held the book out to you. "don't suggest recreating the kitchen scene. there were too many utensils involved."
❁ diluc
he found the sight of you curled up on the couch with a book rather endearing. you always looked so happy in those moments. and you'd always tell him about them over dinner or on walks around vineyard. he absolutely adored these moments. so much so that he wanted to be able to have an in depth conversation about one these books you loved so much. he figured the one you had just finished, one he'd often seen you with, and still had yet to tell him anything about would be a good place to start. a nice little surprise. since there must be something about it if you’re keeping it to yourself.
what he hadn't expected was to be met with a very detailed sex scene halfway through. it had started off so innocent and sweet, exactly the way he'd expect a romance to go. and then all of a sudden the scene took quite a turn. yet he couldn't pull his eyes away from the pages. he kept wondering why you would read something like this.
maybe he wasn't satisfying you well enough? and you needed this to make up for his shortcomings. his thoughts kept spiraling as he turned page after page. he'd read his share of romances--even ones similar to this--but discovering this in your possession, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd disappointed you. which may be wrong, but he couldn't stave off the thoughts.
this could end up being his worst decision, but he felt he had no other choice if he wished to quell his worries. the first chance he got, he sat opposite you at the dining room table and slid the book across the table and asked, "am i not performing well enough for you?"
you were at a complete loss for words, staring in disbelief at the book in front of you. "what?"
"in the bedroom. am i not satisfying you enough? it's the only reason i can think of that you'd read this book so many times. and so often."
despite your best efforts, you couldn't help the giggle that escaped you. you folded your hands over his, squeezing tightly as you composed yourself. "i assure you it is just the romance that i'm reading it for. and even if i did use it for my personal reasons, it'd be you i'm thinking about, diluc. honestly, how could i ever imagine myself with another man when i have you."
he mulled over your words for a moment. "do you have more books like this?"
there was silence for a long moment. then you said, "so many."
"is this one your favorite?" because whether it be or not, he still wanted to talk to you about what you enjoyed, even if it almost gave him whiplash the first time. he was prepared now. after quite possibly making a fool of himself. nor could he deny that, feelings of insecurity aside, he rather enjoyed the book.
❁ thoma
he'd never seen you with the book before. but he found it on a table in your shared home, your favorite bookmark tucked within the pages. it was partially hidden under some decorative books, which he found strange. curiosity got the better of him and he opened to the marked page.
you hadn't left off on a noteworthy scene, so he flipped back and skimmed the text. his brows rose at what he read, a sly grin curving his lips. this little discovery was by far the highlight of his week. he made himself comfortable on the couch and read through a few chapters, making mental notes of his favorite scenes for later.
the cover and first chapter were entirely misleading, having one believe it was just an innocent romance. by the end of the second chapter the two lead characters were already falling into bed together. the main plot was obviously overshadowed by the many sex scenes. if it wasn't for the detailed yet flowy writing style, he would have put it down immediately. honestly, he could see why you were enjoying it. and why you might want to keep it hidden from him.
as if to further his enjoyment, you walked through the front door, a bag of groceries slung over one shoulder. he drew your attention to him as he spoke from his place on the couch.
"i knew yae publishing was going to venture into new genres, but this wasn't what i expected. nor did i think you'd be into this sort of story. it is interesting, though, in it's own way. these positions are what's most intriguing. should we try them sometime?"
the bag on your shoulder dropped to the floor, a few vegetables rolling out and away. you marched over to him with a blush burning your face.
"give it back," you said, reaching for the book. he held it held it away with one hand and held you back with the other, laughing as you pouted.
eyes shining, he said, "not so fast. answer me this: who do you think is better in bed, me or him?" he waved the book for emphasis.
you huffed. "he wouldn't be so cruel."
"a few scenes say otherwise."
❁ kazuha
anytime the crux fleet docked, you made it your mission to stock up with a stack of new books. reading was one of the few ways to not lose your mind at sea. it was peaceful, but there was such a thing as too much peace, even with a crew as rowdy as the one on the ship.
kazuha rarely touched your haphazard stacks, but while you were out of the room, he found himself picking up the nearest one. there were little scraps of paper marking pages throughout the book, but didn't let his curiosity allow him to spoil anything. he opened it to the first page and began reading. he was only a quarter of the way through when the first explicit scene came up. it just so happened to be one of the marked scenes.
it wasn't what he'd normally expect of a scene like this. there was care put into its writing. a sensuality that drew him further in. it ignited feelings of familiar moments. it captured perfectly, in his opinion, what that moment felt like. or what it should feel like. what he knew it to be.
as he read on, he made note of certain parts that he wanted to try out later. nothing too crazy or experimental, but things he thought you might like. he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of some of these things before.
the door to the cramped room opened and he gave a little "hello".
"of all the ones to read, you chose that one?" you said by way of greeting. he closed the book over finger to mark his place, though he was close to the end, and looked your way.
"something led me to this one. and for good reason. i can see why you would enjoy this."
"is that so?" you asked, raising a brow. you made your way to sit beside him on the small bed. it was truly a feat to both fit on it sometimes, but for the most part it was cozy.
"mhm. do you read this when i'm not around? i only ask because of the many bookmarks."
"does it bother you that i do?" there wasn't a hint of guilt or shame in your response. you had needs, and there were time he wasn't around to help.
he didn't hesitate, "no. as long as you're enjoying yourself, i see no problem at all. however, it has given me some ideas."
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#alhaitham x reader#diluc x reader#thoma x reader#kazuha x reader#゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟlyn writes
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𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭 || joel miller x reader
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 || joel wasn't looking for a follower, or a protégé, or an employee— whatever you're supposed to be— when he saved some dumbass kid from a couple runners. but he ended up with you anyways, and you swore to always be faithful to him... in every way.
𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 || 9.2k
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 || smut (18+ only; oral f receiving, unprotected sex, very slight dacryphilia kinda?, a touch of degradation and dumbification in there, and virginity loss with some pain and one mention of blood), heavy age gap (not specified but the reader is absolutely an adult), insecure crybaby reader, unrequited love/pining, reader wants to fuck joel so bad it makes her look stupid (and we love that for her cause same), angst, tess getting kinda screwed over but only because it's absolutely necessary for the plot, emotionally repressed joel, mention of reader's parents being deceased (implied to be infected)
this fic does not contain spoilers for anything but minor details from episode one!
They were doing that thing again— where they talked in front of you, as if you weren’t there.
“So we make the run tonight,” Tess decided, standing while Joel sat on the worn-out sofa with his hands clasped and his elbows resting on his knees. “We should be back by four, that’s when the FEDRA boys have their shift change, so we can avoid too much risk of getting caught.”
“What should I do?” you piped up. They both looked at you with that oh yeah, she’s here glare and Tess sighed; she didn’t try very hard to hide her frustration with you, but at the same time, she was actually nice to you when she was in a good mood (which was rare). Joel was less mean but also less nice— he stayed steady in his neutral-to-mildly-irritated state, and you figured if he wanted you to fuck off, he would’ve said so (probably in those exact words, too).
At the same time, they both instructed you flatly: “Keep watch.”
You sighed, shoulders sinking. “Again? Can’t I at least—?”
“You’re safer here,” Joel insisted.
“Yeah, and your gun is safer in the box under the bed, but it’s not gonna do shit to protect you if you never take it out,” you countered.
Tess scoffed. “And what are you gonna do to protect us?”
“I wasn’t,” you admitted. “You know I’m a great shot, but I wasn’t gonna try to shoot anybody. I’m quieter than both of you. I can get in and out better— and nobody’s looking for me. Everybody knows you’re smuggling—”
“Not everybody,” Joel defended himself in a mumble.
“ — so if I do get caught, I can probably get out of a search,” you bargained.
“And what are you gonna do to get out of a search?” Tess smirked. “Bat your eyelashes?”
That did sting, but you rolled your eyes and hoped you had effectively looked like it didn’t affect you at all. “If implying that I’m pretty enough to get out of a search is supposed to be an insult, I can’t wait to hear one of your compliments, Tess,” you replied— but your voice was soft and almost shaky, not as confident as the comeback merited. That summarized you pretty well: you had the will to be tough, but when it was time to really go for it, your body failed you and your hands got shaky and your eyes watered. Almost anything could make you cry, Tess had already made fun of you for it; Joel just seemed to get really uncomfortable when you started crying, but you always did your best to hide it from him. It just didn’t usually work.
Your whole face probably lit up when you caught Joel’s suppressed smile— did he think your joke was funny? He hadn’t been smiling when Tess made fun of you, so it had to be what you said— or maybe he was thinking of something he would say if he cared enough to say it, some comment about how you could do more than that to get out of being searched. He didn’t seem the type to make comments like that, but he was well aware what guards might let (or make) a girl do to avoid punishment.
“Whatever,” Tess decided, shaking her head, “you’re not coming with us, that’s the point.”
“Joel gets a say, too!” you blurted out. “You can’t just pick for him that I’m not coming, he has to—”
“You’ll stay here,” he interrupted. So much for getting Joel to let you go— you thought maybe he would side with you, for once. Deflating, you nodded, and they stopped paying attention to you at the same time that you stopped paying attention to them.
Your mind wandered in times like this, when they were talking and it was clear that it didn’t concern you; Tess said once that you had an ‘overactive imagination’, but she hadn’t said it in a really mean way (like she said most things). You didn’t want Joel to think that you were always daydreaming, but you couldn’t help it sometimes— you really just hoped that he didn’t know he was the subject of so many of your thoughts.
Truth was, he’d caught your eye long before he even knew you existed. You’d seen him around, doing all those odd jobs he did to make ends meet, and thought he was… well, handsome, but not just that. Mysterious. Intimidating, though he didn’t exactly intimidate you— okay, he did, but not like he did everybody else. He intimidated others because they were afraid he would hurt them; he intimidated you because you kind of wanted him to hurt you. Not, you know, bad, just… maybe a hand around the neck or pinning you to a wall or something?
It wasn’t in spite of your inexperience that you had thoughts like that— it was because of it; you had been lonely for a long, long time, and maybe it was just fantasy, but you always wanted someone like Joel. You wanted someone to take care of you, protect you. You were just guessing that he was capable of that, but he proved it when you met for the first time.
It wasn’t exactly a meet-cute, or even just a pleasant way to meet; you were short on rations, because you’d given most of yours away to Mrs. Davis who was too old and weak now to earn any extra for herself, and someone offered to pay you ten if you snuck something they could sell out of the old mall in the QZ… well, that went about as poorly as anyone would’ve expected.
You asked Joel what he was doing there, after he’d saved you from the runners, but he refused to tell you. Either way, it was the best luck you ever had that he showed up and fought them off. For a moment, he’d held you close to him as he pulled you away from the Infected; you wished, later, that you hadn’t been too terrified to appreciate that.
Ever since, you’d sworn yourself to him— in more ways than one, but he only knew about the main one: you wanted to assist him however you could, figuring after he saved your life that you should dedicate it to his service. Well, Joel had never been interested in your assistance, or anything else about you. It was actually Tess' idea to let you stay: "if she wants to help, let her do it for free," she whispered to Joel, and he shrugged, and he did. That was how it ended up like this: you were the squeaky, wobbly third wheel of Joel and Tess’ operation, more often than not doing the least important work if not filling your time with essentially goose-chase tasks they invented to keep you occupied. Keep watch and listen to the radio were your biggest assignments; just wait here was another common one, when they were too lazy to call it one of the other two.
Tess left a little while later, and Joel laid down on the sofa. You broke away from your thoughts and tried to make yourself useful— you got up to rinse the dishes, humming a random tune to yourself as you worked. You were already back inside your head, wondering if you should tell Joel it was a song you’d heard on his radio and had stuck in your head ever since. Probably not worth it; it usually didn’t go well when you tried to talk about things like that. Joel and Tess talked about before a lot— well, it wasn't that often, because it wasn't very productive to talk about it. But they talked about it occasionally and you never had anything to say. Once, you tried to weigh in: they were reminiscing on concerts before the outbreak, bands and artists they remembered, and you chirped about how "I read about that in a book once!"
They both glared at you, and you didn't say anything else. But you didn’t take it too personally, they just didn’t want to feel old— but you didn’t think either of them were old! These days, old wasn’t a matter of years, it was really just about usefulness— like poor Mrs. Davis, she was old, she couldn’t do much for herself anymore— and they were both… actually, they were both significantly more useful than you. That made you sad. But at least Joel had helped you get better with guns— not that he ever let you carry one.
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Joel broke the silence as you washed his favorite mug.
“I know,” you said back, voice light and chipper. “You don’t have to.”
You felt his eyes linger on you for a moment after that, but he didn’t say anything else.
~
Though they had decided already that you weren’t joining them on the run, you ended up there— mostly by happenstance— when Joel and Tess met with the buyer who wanted half of what they managed to bring back. Not many people in the QZ could afford that kind of contraband, so it made sense that it was one of the FEDRA soldier’s bankrolling this. They were by no means rich, but they had a lot of pull and could provide all sorts of ration cards and promises to look the other way if future issues arose. He couldn’t guarantee safe movement out and back in through the boundaries of the city, but he at least promised to look the other way in any future run-ins with the law.
“So that’s it: you’ll leave at eleven, you’re back by four, and you bring me my share the next day during my break?” the soldier confirmed.
“Yep,” Tess agreed. “Quick and painless. Hopefully.”
You didn’t expect the man’s eyes to land on you, but you didn’t particularly care for it. "Is your little lap dog coming, too?" he smirked, glancing at Joel after he was finished raking his stare over you.
Your face got hot instantly, with shame and confusion. "I— I'm not in his lap," you denied, "that's not— we don't—"
“No,” Joel interrupted firmly, “she’s not coming.”
There was an awkward silence, the place where he might’ve said and she’s not my lap dog, if he cared much about the accusation. Tess seemed to be hanging onto that silence nearly as tightly as you were.
“Whatever,” the soldier finally brought everyone’s attention back to the conversation, “just meet me here tomorrow at half past one, and we’ll see what you’ve got.”
You were still thinking about that conversation that night— while you were keeping watch, like Joel had asked you to. It was really boring; you spent most of the time on the couch, reading a book you’d bought off someone for a few rations. After a while, your curiosity got the better of you, and you started snooping around Joel’s apartment. There wasn’t much to look at… he didn’t own much, just a few shirts— actually, you thought those jeans he always wore might be his only pair…
Your search led you to his bed. Even with no one here to see you do it, you were a little embarrassed to lean in and take a whiff of his pillow— but it was totally worth it. It smelled just like him, that warm piney kind of scent he had; in times like this, not many people could afford to smell nice, but Joel could. Not to say that he was the type to splurge on all the nicest stuff, you were pretty sure he didn’t even own cologne, but he owned shampoo and deodorant, so that put him in the 80th percentile for hygiene in the Boston QZ.
But it wasn’t just those products you smelled on his sheets— there was something quintessentially Joel to it all, something impossible to define but incredibly addictive. It was instinctual, the way you got in his bed and curled up in those sheets, burying yourself in the comfort of him. It was so easy to imagine how he might hold you, now that you were here— all you were missing was his strength, his weight, slow and steady breaths behind you as he drifted to sleep…
You woke up when you heard the door shut. Startled into sitting up, you were hoping you’d have time to get out of his bed before he saw you— but he was already standing there, staring at you. He was just a shape in the dark, so you couldn’t see his face, but you heard the exasperated sigh.
“I thought I told you to sleep on the couch,” he said.
“R-right, sorry,” you coughed, recalling last time this happened with a pained wince.
“Better yet, I thought I told you to keep watch!”
“You know you just say that,” you mumbled, “so you can keep me away from the real work.”
He didn’t say anything, probably because he knew you were right— but even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t, because Tess walked in a second later. “Can’t believe he tried to stiff us,” she was saying as she walked in, half-laughing in frustration. “Well, yeah I can,” she added a second later.
Her attitude changed when she saw you in the bed. “I— I’ll go back to my—” you started, but you ended up just getting up and leaving in a hurry before you could really finish your thought.
Wiping a small tear from under your eye quickly, you walked out of Joel’s apartment and started for your own bunk across the city— even though it was more likely than not that somebody would hassle you for walking around during curfew.
Yes, if you had a little more self-respect, you would just stop hanging around those two and find some other work to do, but Joel had done something for you that you could never repay and never forget. He didn’t have to love you the way you loved him— and you’d been sure for a while that he never would— but couldn’t he at least be a little nicer? You wouldn’t feel right being anywhere but at his side, no matter how much he made it seem like he never wanted you there at all.
~
Honestly, you did consider not going back the next morning— but you figured they might actually need you for the next part. Okay, not need, but they could at least use you for something: after smuggling anything in, you need a fence, someone to pawn this stuff off. Joel and Tess did a decent job of keeping a low profile, but it was even easier to do so when they had someone like you moving contraband around Boston’s population.
So, after a few hours of sleep on that radically uncomfortable cot, you decided to head back to Joel’s place. The sun was just above the horizon by this time, but only the people working early shifts for their rations were up now; you liked the city best when it was quiet like this, but then again, you liked almost everything better quiet.
Usually, Joel’s apartment was the same way. But when you walked in, the energy was completely different than you were used to. Where you’d normally find Tess counting up the score while Joel sipped on coffee (or liquor, depending most on the hour), instead you walked in on what was clearly a lover’s quarrel.
The thing was, this was not your typical argument— they were doing it Joel and Tess style, which is to say, as repressed as possible. In fact, they weren’t even talking when you walked in, but just the way they were standing was indicative of the discomfort they were clearly trying not to acknowledge.
Tess was at the window, arms crossed, looking at the view; and you knew that was a bad sign, because there was no view to be had, the QZ was an eyesore and she complained about it all the time. Joel was sitting at the table, facing the other way, his hand squeezing his own fist instead of the handle of his mug— it didn’t look injured, but his face still had a hint of pain on it.
“I’m sorry—” you mumbled, not sure what you were apologizing for yet, but Tess interrupted you.
“I’ll go,” she decided, walking over to the table.
“Okay,” Joel agreed, not looking at her.
Well, you were no relationship expert, and you didn’t even know what they were arguing about… but you knew that was pretty cold. “So that’s all you’re gonna say to me?” Tess prompted him, her tone tight and her eyes red.
You kept your head low, as if that would hide the fact that you could clearly see and hear all this.
“Yeah,” Joel decided, not as aloof as usual; it reminded you of how he usually spoke to you, that frustration, but it was definitely different. More… exhausted. “Yeah, it is.”
Tess put her weight predominantly on one leg, her hips shifting, as she let out a scoffing sort of breath. For a moment, she looked at you; you looked back at her shyly from beneath your brows before looking away. Why would she look at me right now?
Shaking her head, she left, mumbling to herself but you couldn’t make it out. The door slammed behind her. Joel sighed next.
“Everything okay?” you asked sheepishly, twisting your boot on the floor to watch the shapes it made in the thin layer of dust.
“Clearly,” he insisted, and the sarcasm was obvious though his voice was neutral. You could tell he didn’t want you to prod more— anyone who knew Joel for two minutes would know that— but you still chewed your lip as you wondered what you should do.
Your attention turned to the stacks of contraband on the table; most of it was perfectly legal material to own, just not legal to acquire from outside the city’s perimeter. “Looks like a good haul this time,” you noticed, hoping a change of subject would soothe him a little. Maybe it did, but he didn’t show it. He just kept squeezing his fist, and you gently sat down across from him at the table— and you started doing what you figured you should, going through what they’d brought back and starting to figure how much you could get for it.
For a while, he entertained that conversation, though with as short of responses as possible. Not even a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, just hums and grunts that got the point across. You could tell he was thinking, but you could also tell he didn’t want to be— that he’d rather forget about all that. For once, he was struggling to do that.
It scared you to imagine doing something he so obviously didn’t want you to do, but you knew you couldn’t ignore it forever. “What made her so upset?” you asked softly, finally.
He paused for so long that you thought he was just ignoring your question, but he did eventually say something. “She told me something I wasn’t ready to hear,” he answered, “and… and I guess I said the wrong thing.”
“What did you say?”
“Actually, I didn’t say anything,” he admitted with a thin laugh. “But, I said nothing in the wrong way.”
"... Do you think she'll come back?" you pressed, and his sigh was answer enough.
You had to wonder if he'd make you a real partner in all this now. Probably not, right? He thought so little of you before, that wouldn't change just because Tess was out.
“I’m sorry,” you decided.
“It’s not your fault,” he promised. “It was me.”
You didn’t press on that, already thankful and pleasantly surprised by how much he’d shared. He stood up a moment later, leaving the table and moving to the kitchenette so he could make some coffee; oddly, that comforted you. Like things were going to go forward now, like life could be normal again and he would still drink his coffee.
For a while, it was quiet— just how you liked it, and how you figured he liked it, too. He was humming a song at one point but you didn’t think he realized he was doing it.
It was so quiet, in fact, that when you went to lay on the sofa later, you ended up accidentally dozing off. You couldn’t say how long you were asleep— you were pretty underslept, but it didn’t feel like more than an hour— just that you were awoken to the sound of movement in the kitchen area.
Sitting up, you tilted your head when you saw Joel had begun packing up the contraband haul— well, half of it. “What are you—?” you began to ask, but then you saw the time, and you remembered; but he answered you anyways.
“Our buyer’s on his break now,” Joel announced as he stuffed a pack of bandages into his bag. “I said I would meet him to show him what we got.”
“I can go with you!” you announced. “You know, if Tess isn’t—”
“It’s fine,” he insisted, “I can do it myself.”
“Joel, please,” you pressed, “I promise I’ll do whatever you need me to, I just wanna help—”
“I need you to stay here,” he frowned.
Some things never change, huh? “Why don’t you just let me go? Let me help you?” you whimpered, lip shaking as you started to cry. You hated yourself for it, but you knew you couldn’t stop it.
There was a pause before he responded. “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Joel explained, but you doubted that was the real reason he didn’t want you to come. “It only takes one of us, you’re better off here.”
“Tess was gonna go!” you reminded him, getting more upset. "I know I'm not…" you trailed off as you tried not to cry too much or too loudly. "I can't do what she can— I'm not strong…"
He sighed as he knelt down in front of you, resting his hand on your knee. You peeked out from behind your fingers, but looked down again.
"I'm not— I'm not smart, either," you whimpered. "I don't know anything, about before, about now—"
"That's not true," he mumbled, but you weren't finished yet.
"Nobody knows why you even keep me around, I sure don't," you shrugged, dropping your hands defeatedly, hot tears running faster down your face and dripping onto your pants; his hand reached up and wiped your cheeks with a gentleness you never knew he had. “M’not… I’m not tough, like you guys…”
"You know what you are, little girl?" he replied quietly. "You're good. You're sweet. Me an' Tess, we need someone like you to keep us from bein' sad old assholes all the time…"
He sighed, and you thought was done talking, until he spoke again, softer.
"I need someone like you."
Your heart swelled, and light filled your chest, until you had just enough confidence to finally blurt out what you'd been holding in for months: "Joel, you should know that I always—"
"Shh," he soothed, nodding. "I know."
Your face got hot instantly again, and your heart sank. "I think everybody knows," you mumbled awkwardly, giving him a half-smile through the drying tears. "But I thought— it's just that you never—"
“I couldn’t,” he insisted. “You understand that? I couldn’t, not with you—”
“Why not?” you snapped. “Why can’t you?”
“If you don’t know why, you’re more hopeless than I thought,” he frowned.
“I know— I know I’m… a lot younger than you…” you mumbled, almost not wanting to say it in case he actually hadn’t noticed that. “I know you think I’m not very mature and stuff… but that shouldn’t matter when you really love someone—”
“Woah, hey,” he coughed, “love? Sweetheart, you’ve got a crush—”
“No! Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snapped, surprising both of you with your sudden ability to stand up to him. “You can tell me what to do but not what to feel.”
“Okay,” he softened up, “fine. That’s fair. But it’ll pass—”
"I've never loved anybody before," you whimpered, "and I'm never gonna love anybody like I love you. I know that! I know you think I'm just a stupid kid who doesn't understand love, but I know that I really love you! Okay? So just… just stop talking! Doesn’t need to take this long for you to reject me, geez…”
There was a pregnant pause, you were too caught up in your own frustration to really notice it: the way he looked to the side, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment. You weren’t expecting him to say anything after that, so it nearly startled you when he spoke. “It was last night, after you left,” he explained. “I— I thought about telling you to come back, figured you’d be safer on the couch than walking back across the city at that time…”
Wrapping your arms around your chest, you smiled a little imagining that, but you knew you couldn’t have taken him up on that offer: it would’ve killed you, trying to sleep on that sofa while Joel and Tess shared the bed.
“She told me not to,” Joel continued. “That’s… that’s how it started, I guess…”
“That girl’s so obsessed with you,” Tess laughed lightly, toying with Joel’s lapel. “It’s cute, really. I mean, it’s sad— but it’s cute.”
“Hm,” Joel said first, not really listening— it took him a second to properly react. “Why is it sad?” he asked when her words processed completely.
“‘Cause she thinks she might actually have a chance,” Tess explained.
That was it, what he did wrong; he sees it now, in retrospect, but at the time he figured saying nothing was his safest bet. Apparently, he didn’t have to say anything.
“Shit,” Tess said suddenly, moving instantly from shock to anger. “Are you fucking serious?”
“What?” Joel spat.
“You know fucking what,” she returned sharply. “That look— you looked away.”
“Okay? So?” Joel tried to defend himself, but he knew that she knew now— believe it or not, he really wasn’t much of a liar. Especially with her.
“She’s a goddamn fetus, Joel,” Tess reminded him. “She hasn’t seen a hundredth of the shit we’ve seen, she hasn’t lost anyone—”
“Lost her parents,” Joel corrected.
“Well, we all lose our parents,” Tess rolled her eyes, “that’s part of life.”
Not the way she lost them, Joel wanted to add, but he was going back to his original plan of saying nothing.
“She’s not like us,” Tess insisted.
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Joel decided.
That was the point of no return; because Tess had never thought of you as competition, she barely even thought of you at all, but if innocence was something he wanted… then the competition was already over before it even started. The silence was heavy, more sad than angry, and Joel knew he really fucked up because he’d never really seen Tess speechless before. Is it bad that he didn’t regret it, though? Maybe he could’ve handled things better, but telling her the truth couldn’t be wrong. It’s not like he’d been hiding it, really— he never even acknowledged it himself, not often.
“I can’t believe you,” she shook her head, and shame twisted in his gut. “Part of me always— not always, I guess, but part of me wondered. Sometimes the way you looked at her…”
As she trailed off, Joel looked down, too afraid for her to look in his eyes now.
“You’d do anything to keep her safe,” she said instead of finishing that last thought. “I told myself you didn’t look at me like that because you knew I could protect myself.”
“I do,” he promised.
“So what do you want?” she asked point-blank. “Something you can protect, or something you don’t have to?”
“And what did you say?” you asked hurriedly.
“I told her what I wanted,” was all he replied, and your heart skipped. “And that’s… that’s why she left.”
Joel nodded slightly, looking away. But you reached out and touched his face, turning it back towards you. Impulsively, you leaned forward and kissed him; it took all the courage you had, and a hand on his shoulder for balance, but you felt him kiss you back after a moment. It was gentle, for how sudden it was, and you sighed as his hand moved higher up your leg.
You were still crying, because of course you were, but he didn’t mind as much as you’d worried: he only wiped your tears away, holding onto your face, standing up and pulling you with him.
“I love you,” you whispered as he embraced you, wanting to say it a thousand times now that it wasn’t the worst-kept secret in Boston. “I love you, Joel—”
“I know,” he promised, whispering back into the kiss which got deeper with each passing moment. “I know, darlin’.”
That was enough for you— that was plenty: the way he kissed you, and held you, calling you darlin’ in that rough-yet-gentle voice… you were weak already, melting into his touch, ready to give him anything.
In fact, he had to put a hand on your shoulder and gently push you away to get you to calm down, and your face heated up as you realized how eager you’d been. “Don’t need to get so worked up, m’gonna take care of you now, okay?”
“You always take care of me,” you noticed.
“A different way,” he explained.
Just the way those brown eyes darkened, just the way he said that made your thighs clench against each other. “Y-you’ll miss the meeting with the buyer,” you realized.
“Fuck,” Joel grumbled, and you smiled a bit. “Waited this long and now I’ve gotta fuckin’ leave you again.”
Your hand rested on his chest, the soft flannel of his shirt transmitting some of the warmth of his body, and you looked up with him with wide, wet eyes.
“I know you hate waitin’ here, but… I always liked it,” he admitted, his voice softer yet deeper. “I always liked knowing you were here, waiting for me…”
Your heart swelled. “Y-yeah— I didn’t mind waiting for you so much,” you admitted in return, “just didn’t want you to think that’s all I was good for.”
He kissed your temple, making your chest flood with warmth. “I know,” he promised. “You’ll be here when I get back, won’tcha? Can’t disappear on me now.”
“I won’t, I’ll be here,” you assured, turning your face to peck his cheek in return. It seemed to surprise him, like he hadn’t had tenderness of that sort in a long time.
~
Funny how you’d waited for him all night before, but that half hour felt longer than all of them combined. You were quite sure you knew what he meant before— about how he would take care of you in a different way— and it put you on edge all afternoon.
You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed you, about his hands pulling you closer. Or his eyes: if he’d ever looked at you like that before, you hadn’t noticed (which was probably what he intended).
For how much time you spent wondering what you would do, what you would say, when he returned, you ended up not doing much of either: he was on you the moment he stepped in the door, though that was sort of what you’d been betting on when you decided to strip down to just your underwear and wait for him like that. Not that you minded the idea of him, you know, tearing your clothes off like one of those romance novels— you just didn’t like the idea of having to wait any longer than you already had and this shirt had way too many buttons.
He did take a moment to stare you down when he came back, to appreciate your nakedness, and despite imagining showing yourself to him many times before, you felt a little self-conscious with his eyes just piercing through you like that: you didn’t cover yourself, ignoring a slight instinct to do so, but you did wrap your arms over your stomach and cross your legs as you sat on his bed.
Waiting for him to say something— or, possibly, waiting for yourself to find some courage to speak— you were a little taken aback when he grabbed you and kissed you. And you realized, as his lips moved with yours even harder, deeper, needier than before, that there was nothing else to say.
He climbed on top of you on that bed, laid you down on it gently, as his weight pressed you down into the mattress. You could've sworn you heard him growl when he rocked his hips against yours, a firm bulge in his jeans pressing right up to where heat had gathered between your legs.
Fingers weaving in his hair, you hummed as you did all you could to keep him close, as if he might just disappear if you didn’t hold him near to you. But he didn’t seem like much of a flight risk, considering his tight grip on you— so tight it could leave marks, which you hoped it would. You needed more than just memories of this.
“Tell me this is what you want,” he demanded, his voice breathless yet somehow not weak at all. “Need to know you want this.”
“Fuck, Joel, f’course,” you promised— wasn’t it obvious? It probably was. But you could understand if he was still fighting back some guilt; you just wanted to do everything you could to help him forget about that. “So bad,” you continued, “for so long…”
“Since I saved you?” he assumed, his teeth grazing your lip like a threat to bite down harder— a threat that made you throb from the inside out.
“Before,” you admitted, smiling sheepishly.
“Didn’t even know me before,” he noticed, raising an eyebrow.
“Saw you around sometimes—” god, am I blushing as hard as it feels like I am? — “thought maybe you could… you know…”
Protect me. Hold me. Take care of me. And fuck me like the world is ending even though it already did.
He smirked at you proudly, leaning in to kiss your neck this time, following some invisible trail that made you even more sensitive to the touch of his lips; after he kissed right under your ear, he whispered to you.
“Then just go ahead and take what you want, darlin’.”
After a shiver ran over you, so strong you thought it might never end, your hands shot down between you so you could get to work on his belt and fly; you felt his smile against your skin, then his teeth a moment later, as his hand rubbed the curve of your waist gently.
Both of you gasped when your fingers wrapped gently around his cock, for different reasons. The skin was so smooth, it was hard to believe something this soft and silky was part of Joel— and it was hot, or maybe your fingers were just cold, but you hoped that didn't bother him.
He was already starting to move his hips just a bit, rocking into your touch, and you hummed when he suddenly grabbed your hand to force it to press firmer against himself. "You thought about touchin' me like this before?" he asked in a voice that was breathy and low— you loved hearing the pleasure in his voice.
"Y-yeah," you admitted shyly; when he let your hand go, your touch wandered, your hands sliding up under the bottom of his shirt so you could feel the skin there— the firm muscle, the thin scars, the graying hairs that formed a trail down his stomach…
Grabbing your wrists, he pinned them down above your head, and you let out a joyful whine. "Keep those there," he ordered, and you nodded as you watched him intently.
His hands traced down your body, making shivers run all over your skin; how could a man with so much strength touch you so delicately?
He purred as his fingers ran down to your panties, toying with the edge of the fabric before carefully pulling them down your legs. You tried not to wiggle too much, but your hips were desperate for some friction, for some attention from him— they didn't have to wait long, though. He groaned at the sight as he parted your legs, grabbing himself to rub his fat head through your folds. "Fuck," he mumbled, your channel clenching on nothing as you saw how far apart his tip forced your swollen lips, "so wet for me already, bet I'll slide right in…"
Your back arched with a moan just imagining that, and he pushed your stomach down flat with his free hand so you wouldn't angle too far away from him, laying his body atop yours. Though you tried to stay still, you couldn’t stop shaking as he lined himself up; it felt surreal, it felt hyperreal— his skin against yours was unlike anything you could’ve imagined.
You’d sort of wondered if he’d say something before he put it in, maybe a quick you ready? or even here it comes which would’ve been stupid but an appreciated warning nonetheless. Instead, he just looked at your face carefully, and pushed inside. It was sudden, sharp; your whole body tensed up and you sucked in a breath before biting your lip.
He only made it halfway in, struggling against how tight you were. You were doing everything you could not to give away your pain, but he must've seen it in your expression.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. "I'm hurting you…"
"No— Joel, please don't stop—"
You wrapped your legs around his hips to try to keep him inside, but he pulled out most of the way and looked down— and you winced when he saw the blood. "Baby, you… are you— is this your—? Fuck, why didn't you say something?"
"You wouldn't have done it with me if you knew it was my first time," you explained with a whimper.
"No, baby— I just would've taken my time with you, s'all," he sighed, "would've helped you— sweetie, it didn't need to hurt like that…"
Clutching tighter at his shirt, you pulled him down into a needy kiss. "Hurt me more, Joel," you pleaded into it with a breathy whisper, "do whatever you want to me. I'm yours— that's all I want, just to be yours."
He kissed you back, slow but passionate; but, much to your dismay, he pulled out and sat up.
"No, Joel, I'm sorry," you whined, "I'm sorry— I didn't mean to lie, I'm so sorry, I promise I can be good! M'gonna be really good for you!"
But he just shook his head, and you bit your quivering lip as tears ran down your temples. He smiled, just a little. "Such a crybaby," he scolded you softly. "What am I gonna do with you, little girl? You can't even keep yourself together."
He leaned down again, but he slid his knees down on the bed so he could position his face between your legs. He kissed your inner thigh first, and you jumped because it tickled.
Then he held your hips, running his thumbs over your skin soothingly, and you tried not to squirm too much as he looked up at you with those dark eyes— much darker than before. “You want me to taste you?” he asked, like it was your idea or something.
“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled sheepishly, and he actually laughed for a moment.
“Yeah?” he repeated. “Could you be a little more specific?”
Oh— he wants me to beg. “Um— please? Taste me, Joel…”
He smiled, but not like a haha funny smile or an oh that’s nice smile— a really dirty kind of smile, even though his teeth were actually in better condition than most out here. “Okay, baby,” he agreed.
He was subtle about it at first, just giving gentle kisses all around; you felt… exposed, even more than you had with his face between your legs before.
“Is that alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than the last time you heard it.
“Y-yeah,” you choked, clearing your throat. “Don’t… don’t stop, please…”
When he got back to it, he was much more aggressive— long, slow licks between your lips, sloppy kisses with his eyes shut tight; and you whined as you held on tighter to the sheets. You didn’t realize how hard you were shaking until his grip on your thighs was bruisingly tight. And as he held you down, he just dug in deeper: every time you thought he’d stop escalating the intensity of it all, he just did it more— he just did everything more— until you couldn’t control your moans and gasps anymore.
His tongue was the fucking devil; he slid it inside you and your eyes rolled back. He sucked greedily on your clit until your hips bucked uncontrollably, moaning against your skin just enough that you could hear it over your own shameless cries.
"Joel, fuck, how are you—? Oh god—"
"Mm?" he encouraged you to finish your thought without breaking away from you.
"How does that feel so good?" you sobbed. "Oh my god— please don't stop, never stop, oh fuck!"
All he was doing was flicking his tongue over your bud, such a small interaction with a tiny little organ, and your whole body was shaking. Reaching down and grabbing his hair, you didn't mean to tug on it so hard but you also didn't expect him to moan deeply when you did.
His mouth moved a little higher, focusing on the bud you were sure had never been this swollen or this sensitive. Doing so freed your opening, and one of his thick fingers prodded at it. "Please," you panted, wanting any part of him to be inside you again.
He pushed it in, the roughness of his skin creating the perfect friction on your delicate walls. You were waiting to feel his knuckle against you, but instead he only put it in maybe halfway, not very far at all. It didn’t make much sense to you, until he started to rub one place just inside and a gasp instantly inflated your chest.
“Oh—” you choked, and he was licking harder on your clit at the same time that he added a second finger; you’d never felt anything like it before. “Joel!” you squealed, hating how girlish it sounded but helpless to the control he had over your body with just two fingers and his tongue.
His rhythm wasn’t all that fast but it was relentless, the exact tempo you needed for that pleasure to build and build, toes curling and vision getting all spotty— you tried to look down at him sometimes, but your head wanted so badly to tilt back and let everything go black.
“I— oh, fuck— I’m gonna— fuck, Joel!” you sobbed, grabbing on tighter to his hair; you took one glimpse at it, and when you saw the scattered silver hairs peeking out from between your fingers, it just made you even more overwhelmed.
He hummed and looked up at you, encouraging you— his fingers pumped faster and faster suddenly, and when it hit, you felt like your whole body was going numb. It started where he was touching you, but then a moment later it was in your head, then it was just running all over and you were too weak to do anything but give into it.
Suddenly it became too much, and the hand that had been holding him down by his hair was suddenly pushing him away; you blinked away the spots in your vision to catch a glimpse of him with that beard soaked in you, but his fingers hadn’t stopped yet. “Oh… ohhh my god…” you whined, breathing harder than you could ever remember breathing before, your head getting all dizzy and cloudy as he smirked up at you and continued fucking you with his hand.
Your hole was pulsing, flexing over and over, waves of slick leaking out until you could feel the puddle spreading under you. Your cheeks burned with humiliation, even though he kept praising you as his fingers milked everything from your swollen spot. "Good girl, good girl," he said over and over, "fuck, good job, soak the sheets, baby— soak my fingers, keep going…"
"Joel," you sobbed, desperate for some relief from the overwhelming sensation. He didn't really stop, just slowed down a lot, but he kept twisting his fingers and rubbing that one place until your quivering body collapsed completely onto his mattress. And then he went on for just a little bit longer after that.
Then he stopped. When you thought you might fucking pass out.
He climbed up your body and brought his two soaked fingers to your slack lips.
"You want a taste, too, baby?" he purred.
You dutifully opened your mouth and did your best to clean his fingers off, sucking and licking as he hummed a bit; his eyes got a little darker as he felt your tongue run all over his rough fingers.
"What do you think?" he prompted when he pulled his fingers away, and you swallowed as you made a little face.
"I dunno if I like it," you admitted nervously. "Kinda sour."
"Really? I think your pussy's fuckin' delicious."
Your face flushed, but you didn't say anything else because he was reaching down to hold his cock again— and your heart started racing.
"Ready to do this the right way?" he prompted, and you nodded eagerly. "S'gonna feel so much better, now you're all ready for me. Ready for something this big inside ya— but it might still sting at first, okay? Just hold onto me tight."
That you did, tighter than you thought you could— apparently you were stronger than you realized, especially considering that orgasm nearly took you out a minute ago. But you had to hold on that tight as he began to push that fat head inside you, stretching you so wide before he'd even gotten the ridge of it past your opening. It didn't sting like before, or at least not as much, but it was still completely overwhelming. You forgot to breathe until he was halfway in: you gasped out his name, reminding yourself he was inside you and above you and everywhere, everything.
"See how much— fuck— how much easier it is now?" he grunted, sliding into you slowly until his hips met yours. "See how you're takin' all'a me? God damn, still tight as hell, though."
You were delirious already, he hadn't even moved yet. You didn't think it could get much better than his mouth on you, than coming because of him, but this? This perfect stretch, this addictive friction, knowing he was completely inside you and that he liked how you felt? This was ecstasy, bliss. And he hadn't even fucking moved yet.
"Gonna have a hard time being gentle with you now," he admitted with a growl beside your ear. "You've got one of those perfect little pussies that just needs to be fucked hard— suckin' me in, just beggin' for it rough and fast."
"Joel," you whined, "fuck me however you want, please… I can take it, I swear, I want you so bad…"
Still, when he moved, it was slow and patient. Too goddamn slow.
"Fuck," you sobbed, back arching up off the bed as he carefully savored every detail of you. "Fuck, Joel, I can't— I can't believe you're— I can't believe it's you. I wanted you so much I couldn't fucking breathe."
He smiled at you, and leaned in to kiss your neck; you let out what could only be described as a joyful whimper. “Wanted you too,” he finally admitted. “Tried not to, you’re so young… jus’ couldn’t help it after a while.”
"Faster," you whined, "please, fuck, please please—"
"You are so goddamn spoiled, you know that?" Joel grunted— but then he did it, he fucked you even faster than you'd imagined. His thrusts were still deep and long, but they came at you quicker than you could process and you nearly screamed.
You were even more sensitive after he’d made you come the first time; it was just overwhelming, the feeling of him, and you felt like your mind had left your body— like your mind had left you entirely.
“Y’feel fuckin’ perfect, darlin’,” he praised lowly, kissing your neck with all the gentleness and patience his thrusts lacked. “So good for me.”
Maybe it was pathetic, but being good for him felt fucking amazing— not just physically, obviously. It felt like having a purpose; you’d never really felt that before.
You lost track of time; honestly, you lost track of everything. Everything that wasn’t this had fallen away, and it was just you holding on for dear life as Joel wrecked you all over again with every motion. "Hear that? How wet you are for me?" he groaned, and yes, there was a squishy-wet sound that filled the room with each thrust. You tried to answer him, say something witty about how he made you that wet so many times, but only moans came when you opened your mouth. "I asked you a question," he reminded you. "Can you fuckin' hear it?"
Whimpering, you could only bite your lip and nod.
"Oh," he smiled, "I see— you get stupid with cock in you, huh? Get fucked right and that silly brain just turns off?"
You nodded again— wasn’t much else for you to do.
"Just gonna be a dumb whore for me now?" he asked. "Just kidding, I know you already were."
“Fuck— Joel—” you choked.
"No no, it's okay— it's good,” he soothed you, kissing a tear from your temple that you hadn’t even realized was there. “You don't need to think. I don't need you to think. You can just be my fucktoy, okay? You can just be my slut. Say it."
"I-I'm your slut, Joel…"
He hummed appreciatively; your moan caught in your throat, and you tried to hide your face in his shoulder— you couldn’t believe he was still dressed, for all you knew he still had his boots on, and meanwhile you were stripped of everything. Not just your clothes: you were stripped of all pretense (didn’t need it) and dignity (didn’t want it). You’d thought of yourself as his for quite some time now, but now that he’d really made you his, it was more than you could’ve imagined.
When you came with him inside you, it wasn’t like how it was before— definitely similar, obviously the same thing at the core of it, but very different. Before it was so… sudden, like a firework going off and then glittering into darkness (at least, that was how you understood fireworks to be, you’d only ever had them explained to you). This was more like a deep pressure that just built and built and built, and then at some point you’d crossed that threshold and you were there but it didn’t go away, it just stayed at the peak while he kept moving inside you.
He grunted as your walls beared down on him, watching the tears of ecstasy stream down your face. “Tryin’ to milk my cock, huh?” he accused with a snarl to his tone. “S’that what you want?”
You weren’t really paying attention, you couldn’t while he was fucking you like that. Digging your fingers into his shoulders through the flannel shirt, you just whimpered and nodded.
“S’workin’, baby,” he smiled, “little pussy’s got me so tight— is it a little too much, honey? You’re cryin’...”
“I— I always cry,” you sniffled.
“M’not gonna make you take too much more,” he promised, “doin’ so good honey— gonna let you rest soon—”
“No, d-don’t stop,” you begged, and he laughed a little.
“I’m close,” he explained, and even though that should’ve been obvious, it made you feel better. “Normally takes me a little longer, but… never had a pussy like this.”
That was probably just flattery, but you were happy to believe it. Happy enough to just lay back and let that pleasure wash over you, but of course, he expected more of you than that.
"Tell me where I can come," he ordered.
"Fuck, Joel— anywhere you want, anywhere," you pleaded, struggling to keep your train of thought but desperate to appease him as best you could.
"Inside you?" he pressed.
"Yeah, fuck, anywhere," you insisted.
"I bet that's what you want— you want it inside. You want this cunt full and dripping."
“Fuck— yeah,” you agreed, “s’what I want— please, please—”
“Shh, don’t need to beg,” he assured sweetly, kissing your neck again— burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, until his panting breaths echoed on your skin. “Don’t need to beg, darlin’, gonna fill you nice and deep—”
“Please,” you said again, ignoring his assurances.
“Just like you need it—”
“Please, Joel— love you so much,” you sobbed, your thighs starting to go a little numb where his jeans were rubbing against them and your clit getting sore from the way he stayed deep inside and grinded himself against you.
“I know,” he promised again, “jus’ say it one more time.”
“I love you, Joel,” you cried, and it was over somewhat suddenly: he stayed still, and you could feel his grip on you tighten, and you heard that sound that was like a groan and a sigh at the same time. You’d hoped you’d be able to really feel it inside you, the warmth of his come, but everything was so hot that it was all the same— what you did feel was full, even more than you had just from his cock in you, and it was enough to make you clutch at his shoulders again despite having almost no energy left in you.
Though he stayed inside for a little while after, he did eventually have to pull out; you were too exhausted to even think about trying to close your legs when he stared down at you— at his come leaking slowly from your hole.
You knew there would need to be a conversation soon about what this all meant— what should happen now with the business, with your relationship, even just what should happen tomorrow morning since you’d both given in to instinct rather than take the safer route and have Joel pull out…
But that would have to wait; you still couldn’t think straight, you couldn’t think about anything but him in fact.
Thankfully, Joel was just fine with the silence. He just held you, let you wander between sleep and wakefulness, and wiped that last stray tear away from your face.
“I’m sorry I keep crying,” you offered quietly, breaking a long silence.
“I don’t mind,” he promised.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller hbo x reader#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n
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Sex, Money, Feelings, Die
(part two)
* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ask and you shall receive ~ you guys wanted more, so here it is! 𓆩♡𓆪 thank u so much for all the love on this ♡ i didn't expect my first shot at Chuuya to gain so much traction but i'm really glad it did (he's just soooo ♡‿♡ u know?) hope you like a good slowburn bc buckle up, heavy "we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, Chuuya would honestly be the most arrogant yet easy to break dom because of how badly he wants to please you and you can't convince me otherwise, porn with a plot, 5.6k words. this fic once again had me swooning and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing it so pls lemme know whatcha think, also big shoutout to @bratbby333 for helping me edit this ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
♡ here's part one if you're new here ♡
You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with a sigh, tugging at the neck of your shirt. It was late August, 90 degrees outside, and you were on day three of wearing a turtleneck.
You felt like you were attending a funeral in your black top, black heels, and black tennis skirt - but it was all you had left. You'd already worn your other patterned and pleated options earlier in the week. Already paired each stifling hot sweater with the nicest necklaces you had to make them look more business casual than walk-of-shame.
But no matter how nonchalant you'd tried to seem about your sudden change in wardrobe, it was impossible to ignore the curious stares you'd been getting. The suspicious glances from Akutagawa who just a few days ago could barely even look in your direction without tripping over his own feet. There was a palpable sense of skepticism that followed you and it only seemed to get worse with each high-collared shirt you wore.
You let out another sharp exhale, surveying yourself one last time before heading back to your office. You were busy trying to decide on which expletive you were going to spend the next 7 hours cross-stitching when you rounded the corner, a sudden rush of warmth spreading across your face as a pair of cerulean eyes locked with yours.
Out of all the looks you'd gotten recently, his were by far the hardest to avoid.
Time seemed to slow as you passed him. A subtle but taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth while he continued his conversation with Mori. Something about his upcoming assignment in Osaka and how it'd require him to be gone for at least two weeks.
You disappeared into your office, closing the door behind you as you took a seat and diligently began working on a new project.
Your thread kit had become invaluable over the last few days. It wasn't just a way to pass time anymore - it was an escape. A tool you used to steer your thoughts away from the one place that they kept relentlessly trying to wander back to.
Since the announcement of his solo mission, there'd hardly been a chance for you to see Chuuya outside of the lingering glances you'd exchange in passing. Mori had been keeping close tabs on him, constantly barging in and out of his office to go over the details of his assignment. You tried to remind yourself that it was probably for the best. That the safest thing you could do was keep what had happened between the two of you a onetime fling and nothing more.
It hadn't mattered in the moment how careless you'd both been when you assumed that you'd never see him again, but now that your time here had been extended, you were quickly realizing how critical it was to keep your wits about you. Up until arriving at Port Mafia, you'd barely been skating by. Living off of a dwindling savings account and more often than not having to choose between dinner or rent.
The first check you received from Mori alone was more than you made all of last year working as a barista. You knew that this sort of opportunity would never come again. That it was absolutely fleeting and subject to change at any given moment, but that's what made keeping it for as long as you could so important. The money you were making now would put you through college. It would grant you a future that didn't involve debt. A sense of stability that you never would've had otherwise.
You had no choice but to lay low, for real this time.
You moved your tapestry needle with ease, adding small, strategically placed hearts around the words, "choke me" as you stretched out your legs with a yawn.
The coffee they had here wasn't nearly as good as the coffee you'd usually get from the cafe down the street, but you decided it was better than nothing as you set your cross-stitch pad on your desk and ventured down the hallway.
For as dangerous as this place was, there was still an odd allure of normalcy about it. There were mundane things like work meetings and fax machines and a breakroom that stayed stocked with beverages and snacks. If it weren't for the people that worked here, this truly would be just another business building in downtown Yokohama.
Your suede pumps tapped against the tile as you entered the breakroom, grabbing a k-cup out of the drawer and popping it into the machine before walking over to the cabinet. Despite the three-inch heels you were wearing, you still had to resort to using your tiptoes to reach the mug you wanted.
Your waist leaned into the counter, your arm reaching as high as it could go when your entire body suddenly froze.
You felt him before you heard him, a pair of gloved hands stealthily gripping around your hips. He rested his head on your shoulder, his breath sending chills along your skin as it broke through the barrier of your shirt and danced across the nape of your neck. He pulled you in closer, your ass meeting the firmness of his growing bulge while his palm slowly drifted up past your skirt and brushed against your inner thigh.
"You know you can't ignore me forever, right?" It was posed as a question but held the weight of a threat with the tantalizing way he touched you.
Your pulse raced, heat gathering at your center as he began to toy with the lacy outline of your underwear. His fingers were dangerously close to where you wanted them and where you knew they shouldn't be. Where they couldn't be if you wanted to stay here.
It was cruel irony that just last week it had been him who was trying so hard to keep himself together and now you were somehow the one struggling to maintain your composure. Failing to stop yourself from arching your back against him. Nearly whining when he abruptly pulled away from you and disappeared without another word.
You swallowed hard, looking down at yourself while you straightened out the hem of your skirt, your body still aching from the disappearance of his touch. It was only then that you realized just how fitting your outfit for today actually was.
You were attending a funeral, mourning the loss of your dignity that had died so easily at the hands of Chuuya Nakahara.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
Two days had passed since your run-in with the redhead and you'd barely seen him since. You knew he was set to leave for Osaka tomorrow morning from the conversations you'd overheard while wandering the hall and you knew he wasn’t looking forward to it.
Maybe it would've been easier to not care about what he was doing if you weren't forced to be here every day, but there was no such thing as a break when working for Port Mafia. No weekends. No time off. Even as arguably their most useless member, you were still expected to show up day in and day out without complaint.
You didn't like to admit it, but his assignment had been weighing on you since you'd first found out about it. You didn't understand why he was being asked to go alone. Why he'd have to be there for two weeks. Why you even cared to begin with.
It'd been bleeding into everything you touched, your embroidery going from mindless patterns to things you couldn't possibly bring yourself to say out loud.
Your fingers moved with precision, adding dainty purple flowers around the words "please be safe" when the landline on your desk let out a shrill, unexpected ring.
You paused, staring at the phone with hesitant curiosity. You'd assumed up until now that it was a decorative prop. A piece of outdated technology to help add to the illusion that you had a real office rather than just an empty room to keep hidden away in for 9 hours. You were floored that it actually worked.
On the fourth ring, you finally caved, answering it with a reluctant, "Hello...?"
"You'd make a terrible receptionist, y'know that?"
You hated the smile that crept across your face as you twirled the phone cord around your index finger. "Don't you have anything better to do besides bother the help?"
"Nah, not really." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Mori's finally out of my hair for a bit. Somethin' about needing to go check the status of one of our bases out in Tokyo so he should be gone the rest of the day."
"Hmm," You hummed, still fidgeting with the tangled wire. "Guess you'll have plenty of time to clean your office before you leave then."
He let out a semblance of a laugh, his tone still riddled with salacious arrogance as he said, "Get your ass in here." and hung up.
You drew in a shallow breath, mentally kicking yourself yet again for how little self-control you had as you stood up and made your way down the hall. Your skin had just healed from the marks he'd left on you and here you were, flirting with the possibility of getting more.
The door opened seconds after you'd knocked, a set of narrowed blue eyes and tousled red hair greeting you as you stepped into his dimly lit workplace.
You took a seat on the leather couch he had in the corner of the room, pretending not to notice as he locked the door behind you.
"Does Mori not pay you enough to have more than one lamp in here?"
He stood in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, a cocky grin breaking through his nonchalant demeanor. “Sorry, where does he have you working again? That tiny ass room that used to be the broom closet? Yeah, I bet the fluorescent lighting is way better in there.”
You bit back your own dumb smile, rolling your eyes as you crossed one leg over the other. "Did you drag me in here to just insult me or do you actually need something?"
"Depends, do you like being insulted?"
You could feel your body betray you, a telling shade of pink decorating your cheeks as you averted your gaze from his.
"Really?"
You didn't have to look at him to know how much it’d piqued his interest.
"Why are you going to Osaka?" You asked, eager to change the subject.
There was a subtle wave of seriousness that washed over him. His voice losing its playful edge as he rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "I can't really go into too much detail without making you a liability. The less you know about the shit that goes on around here, the better."
Your mouth open and then closed, the objection you had lined up dying on the tip of your tongue as you quietly nodded back at him. Even if you didn't want to accept his answer, you knew he was right.
"Aw, don't tell me you're actually worried about me?" He tilted his head at you, his stare softening when he caught the sincerity in your eyes as you looked back at him. "I'll be fine. Trust me, compared to the other missions I've had to go on, this is nothin'."
You had no choice but to trust him, you knew he was blunt enough to tell you the truth and if he wasn't stressed about leaving, then you couldn't be either. As easy as it was to forget, he wasn't just another member of Port Mafia, he was an executive. There was no way Mori would send him alone if he didn't think it was something he could handle.
"Honestly, I'm more worried about you." He said, breaking your train of thought by nudging your leg with his foot. "What're you gonna do for two whole weeks while I'm gone?"
You buried the rest of your concern with a shrug, uncrossing your legs as you shot him a small smile. "I don't know. Guess I'll have to start fooling around with Akutagawa to pass the time."
He nearly snorted he laughed so hard.
"What? You don't think I could have him if I wanted to?” It was infuriating how easy it was to banter back and forth with him like this. How effortless it was for you to both volley off one another without missing a beat.
He shook his head, trying not to burst into laughter again from the thought of you and his perpetually flustered coworker. "Nah, you could. Just think you'd be disappointed is all. Akutagawa wouldn't know what the fuck to do with a girl like you."
There was something about the way he said it that made the blood dance in your veins.
"Fine." You pressed, still wearing the same slight smile. "Tachihara then."
It was becoming a real problem, the way you loved toying with him as much as he loved toying with you.
"He wouldn't."
"I bet he would."
He bent down to become eye-level with you, butterflies flooding your stomach as he reached out to rest his hand under your chin, a gentle but firm grasp holding you in place. "You can try," he said, his thumb lightly dragging across your bottom lip. "But I don't think you'll have much luck."
"Why?" It was barely a whisper let alone an actual question.
You knew him well enough to know where this was more than likely going, but there was a depraved part of you that wanted to hear him say it. Needed to hear him say it.
"'Cause," His eyes glazed over as he leaned in, closing the already small gap between you so that you were forced to share the same breath. "Tachihara isn't dumb enough to touch things that belong to me."
Your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest. A week's worth of pent-up arousal nearly dripping onto his couch as you looked back at him without the faintest bit of restraint left in you.
All of the reasons why you'd been trying so hard to stay away from him suddenly held no real merit. They were lost to his touch. Completely eviscerated the moment his lips finally caught yours and his tongue swirled against you with the same tender urgency you'd been daydreaming about for the last five days. The future didn’t seem so pressing when the present was this heavenly.
Your legs parted without him having to ask, inviting his body to come between them while your hands travelled to the back of his neck. Desperate fingertips sinking into his skin in a feverish attempt to somehow pull him even closer.
"'Take it you're finally done ignorin' me?"
You nodded as you watched him push your skirt up, briefly pausing to take his gloves off with the same toothy method he’d used the last time you were in his office. You could tell it was a seldom act for him. Something he had to consciously remind himself to do, but only when he was with you.
"Good."
His mouth attentively returned back to yours, calloused but gentle fingers digging into the softness of your thigh while his thumb swiped your underwear to the side, granting him access to your weakest point.
"Fuck," he groaned, drawing light circles against you, reveling in the way your hips thrusted up for more.
As eager for a challenge as he was, he secretly loved how easy you were to please. How little it took to rob you of your composure and have your legs shaking around him. How pitiful you looked from only two of his digits slipping in and out of you. How your pupils would dilate in this delirious way each time he went deeper, but how you were still submissive enough to never break eye contact no matter how much you writhed and squirmed beneath him.
"Chuuya -"
"What is it baby?"
He could feel how close you were. Knew it wouldn't take much more to have you soaking him, but he couldn't leave for two weeks without making you cum on more than just his fingers. He needed to know what your walls felt like wrapped around him. What absolutely fucking dazed out noises you would make once he was inside of you.
He undid his belt with his freehand, not letting up on you as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.
"Fuck, yes. P - please." You whimpered, watching him stroke himself as he carefully lined up with your center. "Please, Chuuya, ohmygod, please."
"Jesus Christ." He choked out, reeling in how pretty you sounded begging for him. Almost not being able to stop himself as he watched you come completely undone, still pleading for his dick.
He moaned against you, forehead pressed to yours as he finally found the willpower to pull his fingers out of you. His tip had just barely made it past your entrance when a loud knock brought both of you to an insanely cruel and abrupt pause.
His hand flew over your mouth, fire flickering across his blue eyes as he drew in a sharp breath.
"What?" he called out through gritted teeth.
"Plan's changed." It was Tachihara. "Mori's back. He wants you to leave now instead of tomorrow."
"Now?" The anger in his voice was palpable. "Like, right now?"
"Yeah, he's waiting in the jet."
"You can't be fuckin' serious." He grumbled, a pained expression taking hold of him as he looked back down at you, removing his hand from your mouth.
"Gimme a minute." He yelled, silently trying to ration what he was supposed to do with your body still splayed so beautifully under his.
He wanted to fuck you. God damn, he wanted to ignore everything else in the entire world and fuck you into oblivion at this point, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to either of you to have to rush through it or be stressed about the fact that someone might barge in at any second.
It needed to be the right time because you both deserved it. Especially with how many mutual pent-up emotions there now were between you.
Pulling out of you was torture, but he didn't have a choice.
You could've cried, your heart and pussy both grieving the loss of something they'd never even had.
"I swear," He said, forehead back against yours, "As soon as I get back, it's me and you, okay?"
You nodded, doing your best to swallow down your emotions.
"Okay." You finally agreed, eyes still locked with his, a faint smile poking through your frustration. "But if you're not back in two weeks, don't be surprised when you see me and Akutagawa holding hands in the hallway."
He let out a half-hearted laugh as his lips met yours, kissing you in a way that he hadn't before. Soft, lingering... affectionate.
"Hey," you whispered seriously this time, "Please be safe."
"Promise."
And with that, you began redoing the buttons on your blouse and smoothing down your skirt while you watched him grab a jacket out of his armoire, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket.
"You smoke?"
"Only when I really need one."
He shot you a wink, wrapping his arm around your waist as he walked you out of his office, not caring at all who saw.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
You knew it would be awkward without him around, but you hadn't anticipated just how slow the next week would go by. You were tired. Out of ideas for cross-stitch patterns and nearly positive that your curled fingers weren't capable of creating anything else even if you wanted to.
You read manga to keep yourself busy. Looked up recipes on your phone. Took naps at your desk that left kinks in your neck. Called your friends from back home, trying to keep the conversation going long after there was nothing left to say. You were bored. Grateful to still be here, but ready for a day off that you knew wouldn't come.
The check you received on Friday was enough of a reason to stay though. It made the long days of staring at a wall worth it. You reminded yourself again and again that there would never be another job like this. That you might actually miss it one day.
You had no idea, however, just how quickly that day would actually come until you were rounding the corner back to your office and ran into Kyoto. She was the same peach-haired woman who had recruited you from the bar, only she was standing with a fresh face. A girl who looked to be about your age with big brown eyes, flowy blonde hair, and a skirt that was somehow even shorter than yours.
When you had first started, they'd told you that there would be other 'administrative assistants' coming eventually, but you'd almost forgotten about it until now.
Your eyes drifted from her to Kyoto, thinking there was surely no way you'd both be expected to share the same office with how small it was.
You started to extend a hand out to the blonde, ready to introduce yourself when you were promptly cut off by Kyoto.
"Your time here is up." She said curtly. "If there's anything you need to get out of your workstation, I suggest you do it now."
A vicious mix of anger and embarrassment churned in your stomach. "My time here is up?" You repeated blankly. "Why?"
"Mori's decided you're a distraction." She shot you a pointed look. "Especially to that of Nakahara. Now, get your things before I have you escorted out."
Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred by tears at how cold and sterile this all felt.
You went into your office for the last time, grabbing the thread kit and books out of your drawer as you made your way down the hall, looking back to see your replacement excitedly taking over the spot that was once yours.
Goodbye college, goodbye easy money, goodbye Chuuya.
You were able to hold yourself together on the train ride home and on the walk back, but the minute you made it into your apartment and closed the door behind you, everything all spilled out at once. Your crafts and manga falling from your hands as you sank down to the floor and sobbed.
You thought nothing could've been as mortifying as your first day with Port Mafia, but your last day had proved to be far worse. You were right back at square one and it felt terrible.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
The next few days were a blur of filling out online job applications and revamping your resume. You'd hardly eaten. Hardly showered. Hardly done anything that involved getting out of bed.
It was Sunday and rent was due tomorrow. You'd done the math in your head - you had enough money in your savings account to live here comfortably for the next three months without any additional income. If you really pushed yourself and lived uncomfortably, you could probably even skate by for four.
But no matter how much you tried to remind yourself that there was time, you still couldn't shake the feeling of failure that you'd been left with. If you'd been fired for other reasons, it might not have hurt as bad, but the fact that it really was your fault haunted you.
You took a breath, looking over yourself in the bathroom mirror. A combination of three-day old clothes and a knotted side-bun staring back at you. You decided if you were going to continue to sulk, you could at least do it in some fresh pajamas and washed hair.
The hot water felt good beading across your skin as you scrubbed off the grime and regret that had been stuck on you since the day you’d been let go. The air filling with the smell of vanilla as you exfoliated your legs and ran a conditioning treatment through your tangled locks.
You still didn't feel great, but you felt better and that was a start.
You threw on a white tank-top with a pair of oversized grey sweatpants, running a brush through your hair when you heard the buzz of your doorbell. You froze, looking down at your phone to see the time 11:11 flash across your screen.
You hadn't had a visitor since you'd moved here, let alone had someone stop by at almost midnight.
Your footsteps were light as you crept down your hallway, cautiously peeking through the slit in your door watching him impatiently ring the buzzer again, running a hand along the back of his neck while he waited.
"Chuuya?"
"You'd make a terrible doorman, y'know that?"
It was the first time you'd laughed in the last six days, your arms wrapping around him before you even had the chance to think about what you were doing.
He didn't seem to mind though, his hands locking around your waist as you both pulled each other closer. "How did you -" Your thoughts were everywhere. "How did you find my address?"
He let out a slight laugh, his breath fanning across your neck. “I told you it'd be me and you when I got back.”
There was something so sincere about the way he said it. Something so overwhelming about the way he was looking at you. Out of all the things you'd lost recently, you were incredibly thankful he wasn't one of them.
You let him in, locking the door as he followed you down the hall.
“Sorry," you said sheepishly, realizing that you were about to bring him into the messiest part of your apartment. "It's not always like this."
He took a moment to look over your bedroom. The thumb-tacked pictures of you and your friends that decorated the space above your bed. The string lights and cloud-patterned tapestry adorning the walls. The matching baby-pink sheets and comforter set.
It looked like you. It smelled like you. And no matter how many clothes there might've been scattered across the floor or mugs piled up on your nightstand, it was still way cozier than the hotels he'd been staying at over the last two weeks.
"Looks fine to me." He shrugged, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto a velvet chair next to your dresser. "How've things been since I've been gone?" he asked, taking a seat next to you on the bed with a small smirk. "You and Akutagawa official yet?"
Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared back at him, "Mori didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"I, um..." Your gaze was suddenly on the hem of your shirt as you began to fidget with it instead of looking at him. "I got fired."
"Mori fired you?" There was a sobering sharpness to his voice as he repeated it. "For what?"
You knew he'd find out one way or another, but it was still embarrassing having to relive your conversation with Kyoto. "For 'being a distraction.'" you sighed, your eyes hesitantly dragging up to his. "To you."
There was a brief moment of silence and then, a laugh.
“Huh,” he mused. “Well they're gonna be in for a real fuckin' surprise when you come in tomorrow then.”
You shook your head at him in quiet confusion. "Chuuya, I can't just show back up. Kyoto threatened to have me escorted out when I took more than five minutes to get my stuff out of my office."
His brow arched in a way that made your heart skip a beat.
"Did she?" The question was somehow calm despite the scornful undertone it carried. "Well," he breathed, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "She's gonna really hate it when the entire building has to hear me fucking you. Every. Single. Day."
A sudden warmth washed over you, beginning at your cheeks and ending at your core as you blinked back at him cluelessly. "What are you talking about?"
"You're gonna be my personal assistant." The smirk he was wearing was lethal. "And I'll pay you more than that asshole ever did. Weekends off. Full benefits. Alla that."
"Are you -" He'd never lied to you before and you weren't sure why he'd start now, but you were struggling to wrap your mind around the fact that you'd just gone from being unemployed to promoted in a matter of minutes. "Are you serious?"
"Well yeah," He said simply, his grin softening a bit. "I mean, who else is gonna clean my office before I go on trips?"
You both smiled this time before your lips were immediately back on his. Eager, unreserved, bliss.
He fell back into the bed with you on top of him, his hands gliding along your curves while you straddled him. The flimsy straps of your tank-top slipping down your arms as you hovered over him, kissing and nipping at his neck.
He didn't care if you left marks on him. Didn't care if he showed up tomorrow smelling like your perfume with blatantly obvious bites covering his collarbone. He wanted everyone to know if they didn't already. Wanted them to stare and whisper and drop fucking dead at the sight of the two of you walking in together. It made him feral just thinking about it.
Your hips were rocking against him, your center aligned perfectly with his as you moaned at the friction your movements were creating. You could feel him growing hard beneath you, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your sweats.
"Here." he said in-between breaths, helping you out of them and tossing them onto the floor.
You started to pick up where you left off, but he stopped you, swiftly undoing his belt and adding his pants and boxers into the sea of discarded clothing too. You hadn't even been able to see it until now. Hadn't been able to fully appreciate the length and fucking girth of his cock up until this very moment.
You left another kiss on his neck and then on his chest and then on his torso, meticulously leaving them all over while making your descent down to the one place you so desperately wanted to be.
He watched you with wide eyes, your hand wrapping perfectly around him as you looked up and slowly ran your tongue along the side of his base.
"Fuuuck." His voice was heady, his hands tangling into your hair as you made your way up to his tip.
You opened your mouth wider, almost wondering how it was going to fit, but you managed. Taking him inch by inch, going down further each time until you developed a steady rhythm.
You understood why he liked going down on you so much. The noises he was making were gorgeous. Groaning out sweet little nothings the faster you went. "Doin' so fucking good for me, baby." "God, you're so pretty, y'know that?"
You kept one hand on him, gliding him in out of your mouth as the other trailed down to your clit. Feeling your own slick between your fingers only made you all the more blitzed out. You were sucking and moaning and watching him stare down at you like you had put the stars in the sky as you fingered yourself while somehow still staying focused on him.
"C'mere." It was the first coherent thing he'd said since your tongue had so lavishly graced him.
He gave your hair a gentle tug, pulling you back up so that you were almost sitting on top of him.
"I need to feel you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea." he breathed, lining himself up with you, feeling how wet you were before you'd even lowered yourself onto him.
His hands rested on your hips, your grip back around his base as you centered yourself over him.
It’d been so much just to take in your mouth, you were almost afraid of how bad this would hurt, but he was aware of his size. Letting you go at your own pace as he helped keep you steady.
The stretch he provided you with from the first couple of inches alone was noticeable, but heavenly. Your eyebrows knitting together as you looked back at him. A dazed, poutiness taking over you the further down you went.
You took him in deeper and deeper until finally, you were fully riding him.
"There you go, fuck - just like that."
He watched your head lull back, your hand reaching for his as you continued to grind against him. Both of you losing control as he began to thrust into you.
Your eyes went wide, his name echoing across the room while your walls spasmed around him.
"Sucha good girl."
His praises only made you go faster, one of your hands still locked around his and the other now palming at your chest. Squeezing your nipple between your index and ring finger as you looked back down at him. "Chuuya - 'm -"
It was hard to tell where his moans stopped and yours began, the carnal sounds synchronizing the deeper he plunged into you.
He felt another clench, and then, he was suddenly drowning in you. Completely unable to hold himself together anymore as you soaked him.
"Cum inside me." you whimpered, "Please, Chuuya. I wanna feel it. Please, please - fuck, baby, please.”
It didn't take you begging to convince him, but it certainly made it happen faster.
His ocean eyes rolled back as he thrusted into you, absolutely enamored by the sounds you were making. The way you were pleading and pouting as he filled you.
It somehow made every daydream he’d had about you seem lackluster in comparison. You were beautiful you were his.
You both stilled for a moment, trying to catch your breath before looking back at each other with the same exhausted smile.
He pulled out of you slowly, letting you collapse onto his chest as he ran light fingers through your hair. "You should probably set an alarm for tomorrow." He exhaled. "I heard your new boss is a real asshole."
"Oh yeah," You mused, leaning up so that your lips were ghosting his. "He's the worst."
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
#chuuya smut#bsd smut#chuuya nakahara#chuuya nakahara x reader#chuuya x reader#bsd chuuya#soukoku#rem writes
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Hey hey! Love your writing!
I wanted to ask for some nsfw headcannons for Wolffe, Cody, and Rex. Where their F!Jedi reader keeps force projecting different sex scenes of them together during a briefing; with the boys trying to keep it together during the briefing and their reactions/what they say to her after.
I also just wanted to say, that you are one my favorite TCW/TBB writers on Tumblr!
Distractions - NSFW Headcanons with Cody, Wolffe, and Rex
Summary: You decide to spice up a pre-mission briefing meeting by projecting naughty visions to your clone, knowing you’ll pay for it later.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Absolute filth. Smut. No real plot. Dom vibes from Wolffe and Cody, slightly rough handling but everything consensual. Fingering, oral, PiV sex. Reader a Jedi, not described in detail.
Pairings: Cody x Fem!JediReader, Wolffe x Fem!JediReader, Rex x Fem!JediReader
WC: Around 2,000 total (bullet points)
A/N: Let me tell you, the squeal I squealed when I got this ask! Thank you for this filthy request, anon! And thank you for your even kinder comment, I was having some self-doubt in my writing lately and I’m glad that you are enjoying my silly little stories, it means a lot to me and I love writing for y’all!
This is pure smutty goodness below the cut, I hope it’s what you envisioned. I had fun writing this for sure! I kinda got carried away with Rex, oops. Enjoy! 💛
✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*
💛 Cody 💛
He is a tough man to crack.
He’s always the Marshal Commander, taking his duties seriously on and off the battlefield.
You started innocently, visions of you kissing up and down his torso, slowly taking off his armor and blacks, fondling his cock, whispering how good of a girl you’ve been and that you’re ready to please your Commander in any way.
Cody didn’t even look at you, though you saw his hand twitch slightly at his side.
You smiled to yourself, projecting a more enticing scene into his mind.
This time, you were sucking his cock, his gloved hand wrapped in your hair, mumbling how amazing your lips felt around him, how much he was going to reward you later for being so good to him.
Still, nothing. Though his jaw seemed tense as he listened to Obi-Wan go over battle plans.
You knew you were playing a dangerous game, an exceedingly dangerous game, one that you will be thouroughly punished for later.
The thought shot a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, upping the ante again, needing him to crack.
The next image was of you, laying on his bunk, pleasuring yourself, two fingers deep inside your sopping pussy, your other hand pinching and tweaking your nipples writhing and moaning in pleasure, getting off completely fine without his assistance.
Since my Commander can’t be bothered to help me, I have to take matters into my own hands…
You held that teasing, lewd image in his mind, and you could almost feel the blade of his stare pierce straight through you as he finally made eye contact across the room.
It was a simple gesture that said so much, and you knew you had him.
After the meeting, you went straight to your personal quarters, knowing he wouldn’t be too far behind.
As your door hissed closed behind you, it was open again, and Cody had you pinned to a nearby wall so fast you barely had time to register what was happening.
Cody was deadly silent as he crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue clashing as his armored body pressed into your robed one.
You smirked against his lips as he pulled away for air, your lungs burning. “Cody-“
Cody growled as he flipped you around, your face pressed up agains the wall, tugging down your robes, revealing your ass to him and your glistening pussy.
He gave your ass a solid smack, his lips against your ear, heavy and commanding.
“You’re not getting away with this.”
You sighed in both pain and pleasure, hearing the clunk of his codpiece hitting the floor, his fingers gripping your ass hard as he rubbed his rigid cock at your entrance.
“Is this what you wanted?” He husked, “to be filled by your Commander? To beg for this cock? Oh, mesh’la, you’ll be begging.”
You let out a whine as he teased your dripping entrance with his cockhead, already thinking you maybe took it a little too far with your visions, knowing he was a man true to his word.
It was too late now.
“Cody, please, I need-“
Smack! Another slap to your ass, his other hand wandering between your folds.
“Only good, obedient girls get this cock. After that stunt in the comm room, you have a lot to make up for.“
He swiped a finger over your clit, causing you to cry out, your body twitching, unable to move much between the wall and his solid form behind you.
He roughly rubbed your clit, pushing two fingers into your entrance, immediately finding the spongy spot that made you see stars.
“You’re soaking, mesh’la, so needy for me.”
You could feel your release coming quickly, choking out his name as his other hand groped at your breast.
Cody knew you were close, feeling you tighten around him, your high pitched moans giving you away.
Cody removed his fingers right as you were about to reach your peak.
You whimpered, trying to lean back against him, desperate for your release, for anything.
Cody spun you around again, pressing his gloved fingers soaked with your juice to your lips.
“If you’re good, I’ll let you cum. You haven’t proved yourself to me, though. Now be a good girl, and clean me up.”
You licked his gloved fingers clean, tasting yourself and giving him a little show of what you could do with your tongue, if you let him.
Cody’s eyes darkened, slowly pulling his fingers out of your mouth, a line of spit connecting your lips to his fingers.
“On your knees, mesh’la. Like I said, you have a lot to make up for.”
🖤 Wolffe 🖤
The image you projected was absolutely filthy.
Your hands were pinned behind your back by his large hand, the other pressing between your shoulder blades keeping you down on the bed as he pounded into you from behind.
You were shamelessly moaning his name like a dirty Holofilm star, crying out for him to go harder, faster.
You stood at attention, casually glancing at him, noticing a bead of sweat forming at Wolffe’s temple.
You could sense he was trying his best not to leap over the holomap and ravage you in front of everyone.
You decided he had enough of the first fantasy, briefly closed your eyes, projecting another scene into his mind.
You were on your knees in front of him, your mouth open as he shoots ropes of cum all over your face, greedily lapping it up, kissing up and down his still-hard cock, begging for more.
Wolffe’s eyes flashed at you, his cybernetic eye and scar making him look more dangerous than usual, his eyes narrowing.
Got him.
You were enjoying watching him keep it together, a vein bulging at his forehead, his neck tense as he stood at attention, listening to Master Koon’s hologram.
You knew you were in for it after the meeting.
That was the entire point.
Wolffe was practically kicking down the door to your personal quarters after the meeting, pinning you to your bed, his mouth ravaging yours, moving down to suck and bite at your neck, hard.
He had your wrists held above your head with one hand, his grip like iron.
There was no escape.
“What was that?” He growled as he continued the assault on your neck, his hand tightening even more around your wrists that were wiggling to get free.
You whined as his hand that was digging into your waist moved under your robes, up toward your breasts.
“Answer me, mesh’la. Or you won’t get what you so obviously want.”
His gloved touch left a trail of fire on your skin, sending goosebumps across your body and a jolt of arousal straight to your pussy, your panties wet at the anticipation.
“You looked bored during the meeting.” You smirked at up at him, breathy pants leaving you as he touched you. “Thought you could use some entertainment.”
Wolffe’s gaze darkened at your teasing tone, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.
Without warning, he ripped open the front of your robes, yanking down your breast band.
You yelped as he attacked your breasts with this lips and teeth, leaving more marks for him to gently kiss over later when he was through with you.
“Do you want my cum, mesh’la? Is that what you want?” Wolffe grunted against your flushed skin as he switched to your other breast.
You gasped a yes, his teeth expertly nipping and tugging at your sensitive bud.
You writhed, your wrists still restrained above your head by his strong hand.
“I’ll fill your mouth to the brim, and you’ll swallow every drop, isn’t that right you filthy girl?”
You nodded, almost delirious just at his mouth on your nipples. He hadn’t even really started touching you yet.
“And then I’ll fill that pretty pussy of yours, but only if you behave. Will you behave for me?”
“Y-yes!” Your voice cracked, needing him to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your name. 
“Yes…?” He stopped, his predatory gaze locking on you.
“Yes…Commander.”
“Good girl.”
Wolffe continued ravaging your breasts, your mewls filling the room.
“Please, I want your cock inside me, I want you to cum so deep inside me, Wolf-Commander. I’ll be good, I promise…”
Wolffe released your wrists, your hands finally free.
“You haven’t been good though, you knew that the second you invaded my mind with those visions.”
Wolffe sat up, and began removing his armor. You forgot it was even still on.
“I’ll make sure you’re properly punished for such distractions, and then I’ll decide when you’re ready for my cock.”
You shivered at his promise as he climbed over you, just in his blacks, the outline of his rigid cock straining against the fabric.
“I dunno, Commander. You seem to be all bark and no bite.” You teased, knowing you were getting yourself into even more trouble.
A dark chuckle reverberated in his chest, ripping your pants and panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.
Wolffe grasped your thighs, biting down into the soft flesh of your inner leg, earning a loud yelp from you as his tongue eased the first of many marks he will leave on your body.
“Be careful what you wish for, mesh’la.”
💙 Rex 💙
You had him sweating and fidgeting as Rex tried to keep a straight face in the briefing room.
Rex was attempting to listen to the mission report, but your vision in his mind was proving to be quite the distraction.
You were on his face, his hands grasping your thighs as he feasted on your pussy from below.
“Rex, oh kriff, more, please, I need your big cock, I want you to ruin me.”
Rex gave you a desperate look from across the room, slightly shaking his head.
You ignored his pleading glance, changing the vision.
Now, you were splayed out on his desk in his private Captain’s quarters, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you, your back arching as you rubbed your clit, cumming over and over again around him.
His desk was dripping with your juices, your breasts bouncing almost comically as you cried out his name, hamming up the vision to see Rex squirm.
Rex suddenly coughed, everyone in the room looking at him momentarily.
You rocked on your heels, hands behind your back, pretending to listen as the pre-mission brief continued, completely innocent.
Finally, the meeting ended.
You exited the room, Rex quickly walking past you.
“My office. Now.” He hissed quietly, before being called over by Anakin to discuss further plans.
When Rex opened the door to his office, you were sitting at his desk, waiting for him.
“You have a lot of explaining to do, General.” Rex strode up to you, placing his hands on his desk, leaning over toward you.
You loved it when he used his serious Captain voice on you.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain.”
“You know.” His voice dropped an octave, husky and gruff, just how you liked it.
“You’ll have to elaborate. I can’t read minds.”
Rex stood up straight, his expression unreadable. You continued to sit in his chair as he walked around the desk and over to you.
Rex leaned down again, placing his hands on the armrests of the chair, caging you in.
For a moment, you thought he was actually upset with you. You felt guilty, maybe you did take it too far in the meeting.
You opened your mouth to apologize, but Rex spoke first.
“I think you can, mesh’la. How else would you know those visions are what I think about doing to you every waking moment?”
His lips were hovering centimeters from yours, a quiet gasp leaving your lips, your body quivering at his statement.
Oh, he liked it.
His breath fanned over your face, feeling your panties dampen, his usual soft eyes glazed over with lust.
You leaned forward to close the small distance, wanting to taste him, but he pulled away, avoiding your kiss.
“Mmm, mesh’la. You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” Rex purred in your ear, his gloved hand snaking up your neck, tilting your head to the side.
He placed a hot kiss right below your ear, lazily licking your neck.
“Rex…” you sighed, grasping at his shoulder pads, his teeth grazing your skin, his lips pressing to the side of your jaw.
“You want something from me?” He removed himself from you, kneeling between your legs.
“I’m not sure if you deserve it. I could write you up for what you did back there.”
Rex hooked his fingers under your pants, pulling them down your legs. You lifted your ass, helping him remove your lower clothes.
“Yeah? What would the report say?” You shuddered as Rex began lavishing your bare thighs, teeth and tongue sucking and nibbling as he slowly made his way up to your aching apex.
You could feel Rex smirk against your skin.
“My General coercing me into questionable situations. Inappropriate use of Jedi abilities.”
Rex stopped right at your core, aching and throbbing for him. You could feel his breath on your pussy, desperate now for any friction.
You let out a frustrated whine as Rex kissed your inner thigh, ignoring where you needed him most.
“Rex…”
“Patience, mesh’la. You need a lesson in discipline, it seems.”
Rex brushed his nose against your clit, your hips instinctually bucking up toward him, your hands grasping at his buzzed hair.
You groaned impatiently as he gently kissed your labia, touching you everywhere but your clit.
“You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” He rumbled into your core, a finger now teasing your entrance.
You panted, knowing you asked for this, that you deserved this, but you could still protest to his teasing.
“Captain, please…” You begged, shifting your hips, hoping he would press his finger knuckle deep inside you.
Rex continued to just tease your entrance with his finger tip, slowly circling, not quite pressing all the way inside.
“Kriff, you’re so wet. Do you want me to fuck you on my desk? Do you want to cum over and over again on my cock?”
You nodded, heavy pants the only sound able to leave your lips as he finally pressed his finger inside.
“Use your words, is that what you want?”
Rex’s lips were brushing over your clit, the teasing almost too much.
“Y-yes! Please, Rex, I need you inside me!” Your words came out as a garbled cry as he suddenly sucked on your clit, adding a second finger to your pussy, stretching you so deliciously you thought you might cry, pleasure shooting up your spine.
And his cock wasn’t even inside you yet.
“You’ll get my cock, mesh’la, don’t worry. But first, I want you to cum just like this.” Rex added a third finger, his tongue and lips circling your clit, your vision white from the pleasure as you squirmed and writhed in his chair, totally at his mercy, your orgasm building quickly.
You came apart on his fingers, shaking and sobbing his name, pleasure coursing through you as Rex’s fingers and mouth worked you through your first orgasm.
“You’re so beautiful when you cum.” Rex’s pupils were blown with desire, licking his lips as he cleaned you up, his baritone voice was laden with desire, his control now gone.
You barely had time to come down from you high as Rex easily lifted you onto his desk, removing his codpiece in a flash, pulling down his blacks far enough for his flushed, dripping cock to spring free.
“And you’re going to cum again, and again, and again. Are you ready, mesh’la? This is what you asked for.”
Your answer was a cry of his name, his hands gripping your hips as he slammed into you, starting a devastating pace, fucking you exactly like you showed him in your vision.
Your last coherent thought before being so thoroughly fucked and blissed out by your Captain was that you should definitely tease him like this more often.
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*sighs a bit* Okay. Guys. I have been asked this question a lot, and answered it a lot. I don't know how to give a better answer — Dru & Ty&Kit share significance as main characters — so I guess I'll talk a little about comparison and structures.
First, all series have different structures. I don't think it's super useful or predictive to try to map an upcoming, unknown book series onto an existing series. In TLH the main character was Cordelia, everyone else was secondary to her, and people's roles and the significance of them altered from book to book. It was a big ensemble cast and they mostly stayed put in London especially in book 1.
TWP focuses on a smaller group of people. It also has a very different structure. In book one, Dru is not with Kit and Ty. They are in different places, both of which have their own stories that are significant to the plot. There is no way to see Place One without following Dru. There is no way to see Place Two without following Kit and Ty.
I know that TWP is a long way off. I know there are people who are very angry with me that there's such a gap, but there isn't anything currently I can do about that, or about the fact that I don't yet have the schedule for my upcoming books. That rests in the hands of several different publishers who must coordinate the release times and production schedules for four different series. I am not withholding any information about when these books come out. I simply don't know it yet.
I understand that TWP being a long way off makes for anxiety, and that those who are worried Kit and Ty will somehow be secondary are looking for tiny clues in microscopic details — micro-reading the of placement of the word "and" in my newsletter and such — that are meaningless, but I get that it all comes from anxiety. (FTR, those worried Dru will be secondary are equally anxious.)
I think there is only so much I can say. Because there's a big gap between TLH and TWP everything I do say or every image or hint about it is freighted with a weight of assumption it can't really support. Anxiety is always going to trump reassurance. And truly, at the end of the day, if you only care about Kit and Ty and find the idea of a Dru story tiresome, you will feel like they got shafted because when you absolutely hate a plotline, you will always feel like it's taking up way too much space. That's just how our minds work.
I've been doing this long enough that I know no book can survive a hostile reading. I know that Book Three of a trilogy is the one people hate until they don't. (When Clockwork Princess came out people hated it so much I considered quitting writing!) I know that it's wonderful to love a character but can also be a problem for people when I put out books that aren't about that particular character or dynamic. I know that for a lot of people, Sword Catcher and Ragpicker King are just tiresome things that have no business on my schedule because they're not Shadowhunter books. And I get it. But I also have to block it out, because I've been writing a long time, and I've gotten to a point where I know that I have to write the thing I want to be writing, because if I don't, if I sit down and try to force myself to write something I'm not feeling like writing at that time, I'll be making myself physically and mentally sick. And that's no good for anyone, really.
I suppose the positive thing is that, while this would not have been true five years ago, I am at the place where I want very much to be writing Wicked Powers. I missed these characters and am glad to be back with them. I consider this a story in which there are three main characters. And that is all I can say right now because it's all that I know.
(And this was much more of a general response to a lot of things than a specific response to this question, but I did feel like it was stuff that I needed to say. Creators are at the end of the day, just people. Sometimes we are powerless to reassure. Sometimes we are tired. Sometimes we are wrong. Sometimes we try things and they don't work. Sometimes we can't explain to you what our story is going to make you feel, because only reading it is going to tell you that. This may be one of those times.)
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