#and instead of you teaching him new words
Note
Hi! I'm a fan of your yan! Hero/reincarnated reader and I would like to ask if you could write a scenario where the reader has reincarnated again but this time instead of running away they just stay in the village, and in this life, Tasman doesn't end up searching for the reader because they haven't left the village. Because of this, the reader just stays in the village and just so happens to start a relationship with a kind farm boy.
So while Tasman is out marrying another mermaid/fairy queen/princess, the reader is just having the time of their life on a large farmhouse with their new lover. By the time Tasman finds out it's too late because he's already married and it would ruin his reputation if he ever decided to leave his wife for a (now married to a farm boy) reader because while he will stay a hero he won't be as respected by the kingdom for leaving a kind and respected woman, then trying to go for a married woman.
Reputation? Respect?? What does he care what the kingdom thinks of him when he’s the only thing standing between them and world devastation? The only reason he’s morally “good” in the eyes of the kingdom is because they follow the goddess’s teachings which so happens to be who he’s blessed by. The crimes he commits always have something to do with you so there is a much greater chance that you receive the backlash for his unhero like behavior than he does. They can’t hurt him, both because they physically can’t and they need to remain on his good side so they don’t die. But, you? They can hurt you.
In one of the realities he makes a deal with the king to legally imprison you so others turn a blind eye to his not so moral actions. A deal they’re willing to make if it’s for the greater good, ya know?
Tasman doesn’t care about other people. He barely considers them people. The only reason he plays nice and doesn’t take advantage of his supernatural abilities is because he believes it would be too much of a headache to completely upend life as you know it. He keeps up appearances of the righteous hero so he can comfortably do whatever he wants. The only person whose opinion matters to him is yours, though it doesn’t seem to mean much when your wants and desires stray from a future where the two of you are together or you’re alone.
TW: suggests death
—
The cicadas always seemed to scream the loudest right before the sun pierced the horizon.
A feverish kiss was shared right before a frantic embrace as promises of his quick return caressed your ears. You held each other like it was the last time you’d ever get to.
You promised you’d wait.
Unwanted tears flooded your eyes and you couldn’t help but feel selfish because you knew why he had to go. To want him to stay by your side when he was destined for something greater, the destined savior that would be revered when his mission was successful, because it had to be successful. Because he was going to return to you.
So you let him go.
Waiting long after his caravan disappeared from the dirt paved road, you remembered his words, his vow. It was enough to ease the burden on your heart for now. It had to be.
Life was never quite the same without him.
The first year, you’d look to every corner as if he’d appear, every closed door as if you were waiting for him to burst through and wrap his arms around you and promise something new. That he’d never leave you now that his mission was fulfilled.
It was a hope that was too soon.
You felt anxious the second year. Attempting to live as if such desperate yearning wasn’t what consumed your mind the minute you opened your eyes. You worked, ate, slept, moved through life as if someone else was living for you.
By the third, your loneliness had reached a peak. It was suffocating. His memory, the touches that no longer lingered, words that you’d play over and over in your mind to convince yourself to trust him. To trust that he was coming back. To chase away the anger that would turn into guilt, knowing full well why he couldn’t visit you. You’d convinced yourself that sending letters would compromise his position. That he would if he could, but fighting the demon king was already too much of a burden. You didn’t want to strain him further with your selfish expectations. You’d wait. You’d waited this long, you could wait a little longer.
The fourth was bright with celebration. It rekindled a new hope in you as people praised him, thanked him, worshipped the ground he walked on for saving you from the disaster. Joy was bright in everyone’s faces as they danced and laughed now that the dark cloud had finally lifted. You clasped your hands together, fingers fidgeting as you looked along the horizon, waiting. Almost every day you waited, impatient but understanding that there was probably plenty he had to do now that the war was over. He couldn’t just rush back to you. So you waited. Long after the sun disappeared. Long before the cicadas grew so loud you couldn’t bear to think.
You were treated like a widow.
Five years had passed with no word. People tried to be careful whenever they discussed the boy who’d grown up in this town. Everyone knew the relationship the two of you had, which is why they were especially careful when mentioning his marriage. Occasionally someone would slip up and you couldn’t help the flinch that would rip through your body.
You couldn’t understand. You waited. You did what you said you’d do, so why? Did the promise the two of you made mean nothing? You couldn’t help the days you locked yourself in your room, unable to bear the heartbreak drenched in grief.
The town was quiet on nights like those. Grateful for the cicadas that almost drowned that haunting wail.
It was too soon to think about a new relationship.
Sure, it had been six years since you’d last seen him, but you still felt an ache in your soul and it was too new of a wound to hide with friendly smiles.
He was someone you’d grown up with. He was well aware of your relationship with Tasman. It made it even harder. You don’t know why you accepted his offer to go out on a date. Maybe it was the persistence or if you had grown tired of hurting with no relief.
You wondered if it would remind you of him. If you’d compare the two, and you were right. But he was nothing like Tasman. The more time you spent with him, the easier it was to recognize he was nothing like your first love.
It was a relief.
For the first time you thought, maybe you could move on.
You began to smile again. He pointed it out on one of your dates. The two of you would often camp out wherever the sun shined the brightest, content to feel its ray on your skin as you held each other and talked. His observation didn’t cause the knee jerk reaction you thought it would.
The raging pain from memories of who you were before. The dull ache you carried that seemed to sting a little less with each passing day.
You looked at him and finally realized what he meant to you.
The man who brought back your smile. The one who helped you realize your would had scarred nicely.
It wasn’t much. He couldn’t offer you the world, but what he did offer was worth more. He was kind and thoughtful, he listened, and his flaws touched you a lot deeper than you thought capable. There was no question, no hesitation when he asked you to marry him.
For the first time, you truly began to remember what happiness felt like.
It happened during the night. On a day you would never have assumed would hold as much importance as it did.
Your eyes were forced open as a violent cough racked through your body. Sitting up from the bed, you felt a pounding in your skull.
It was supposed to be night. A strange uneasiness crept in your body at how bright your room was.
You climbed out of bed when you realized he wasn’t laying next to you, shuffling to the window and feeling your heart stop at the sight of the barn. It was engulfed in flames.
You screamed his name as you ran down the stairs, knowing he would’ve woken you if he realized something was wrong. Gasping at the sight of flames spreading through your house, you ran to the back door to escape the heat that was dangerously creeping towards you.
Slamming the back door open, you called for him again, rushing towards the barn before coming to a dead halt when you realized it was too late for the hose. You would have to watch helplessly as his family’s home burned to the ground.
Where was he? Why wasn’t he answering you? Did something happen to him?
Anxious fear told you to do something. That you needed to find him. You didn’t know where you would go or who to ask for help, but everything else could wait. At least until you knew he was okay.
“Lover,” a familiar voice said, causing you to whip around. .
It felt as if time had stopped as a look of realization passed across your features when the stranger walked close enough for your eyes to make out his features. What was he doing here? Standing still, watching you as if this was completely normal.
Tasman.
You couldn’t help the dread you felt at the smile on his face. The familiar smile he always wore. A smile that didn’t ackowledge the dumbfounded horror on your face or the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes that stung from the smoke or the unwilling realization that there was no chance you’d ever see him again.
His eyes seemed alight with something sinister and the flames that licked the barn behind you only heightened the unearthly glow in them that grew as he came closer.
This wasn’t the reunion you imagined. It wasn’t one you wanted anymore. Why was he here? Where was he?
He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, your body too limp to resist his affections as he squeezed you tightly.
“I’ve missed you.”
The cicadas always seemed to scream the loudest right before the sun pierced the horizon, but despite the crackling flames that lit the sky, they were quiet.
#yandere#yandere oc#yandere x you#male yandere#yandere x gn reader#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#ask#yandere male#gn reader#yandere hero x reader#yandere hero#yan!tasman
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💀 Callsign: Motionless 💀
🖤COD! CHRIS CERULLI X READER ONESHOT🖤
You were the new recruit they brought on to assist TF141, and your first week with everyone was supposed to be a guaranteed breeze. There's just one problem: you and the Lieutenant they assigned to train you don't exactly get along...
• fluff; language; slight angst
You hated him.
You'd only been with your task force for the short span of one week, and already, you despised him, with every fibre of your being.
Sure, you were the newest recruit, which meant you still had a lot to learn, but if you were being perfectly honest, Lieutenant Cerulli's teaching methods were a bit... harsh? Grating, unorthodox, even?
"Again."
Ugh, speak of the devil, and he shall appear, right?
Cerulli's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his tone firm and demanding.
You gritted your teeth, sneaking a sideways glare at him out of the corner of your eye. You hated the way he stood there watching you, brown eyes narrowed, him and his perfect tactical vest with the stupid little patch that had his callsign embroidered on it in fancy white letters, 'MOTIONLESS'.
Fuck him and his perfect stupid eyebrows and piercings and ink, and his perfect voice that could simultaneously melt your insides as well as cut you down to the bone.
Your hands curled into fists as you stood up, digging the toe of one of your boots into the protective mat on the floor. The two of you had been at it for hours now it seemed, the private training gym the only witness to the grueling torture Lieutenant Cerulli had been putting you through.
"I don't see why we have to keep doing this, it's-" you began to protest.
"-an important fucking life skill you need to learn. Now quit whining and go," Cerulli cut in sharply. You huffed in irritation, shooting a glare in his direction before charging towards him, your leg up and ready to drop kick him-
And just like the previous twelve times you'd tried, you were down on the mat in an instant, your wrists pinned beneath his, one of his legs keeping both of yours pinned to the mat.
Letting out a frustrated growl, you went to tug your wrists free from his grip, making an attempt to shove him away from you, but Cerulli wouldn't budge.
"No. You're gonna sit here and tell me what went wrong this time," he said with a shake of his head, before helping you sit up.
You avoided his gaze, instead keeping your eyes fixed on the dark blue mat beneath you. "Too slow," you muttered. "No," came Cerulli's instant reply.
Gritting your teeth, you finally let your eyes meet his, both of you staring at each other through narrowed eyes.
"I don't fucking know-"
"Your form is fucking pathetic, you're distributing your weight in all the wrong places, and your attitude fucking stinks," Cerulli snapped.
That was it, you were done.
Pulling yourself into a standing position, you glared down at him. "I'm done," you spat.
His jaw clenching, Cerulli stood up as well, the height difference between the two of you just a little bit intimidating.
"You're done when I say you're done!" he hissed. Your hands curled into fists at your sides again, but you stood your ground, staring him down, refusing to be the first to break eye contact.
You were starting to see why everyone had a rather unpopular opinion about Lieutenant Cerulli. The man was impossible to work with, his teaching methods harsh, his demeanor cold and unforgiving.
On impulse, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind, the two words easily slipping off the tip of your tongue.
"Fuck. You."
A muscle in Cerulli's jaw twitched, his eyes narrowing, the irises seeming to darken.
For the briefest of seconds, you wondered if perhaps you'd gone just a bit too far, until he slowly ran one inked hand through his dyed purple hair, his gaze growing cold.
"Get out. We're fucking done. As of tomorrow, you're no longer my problem," he hissed, pointing towards the doors to the gym.
Good fucking riddance, right?
With an irritated glance in his direction, you abruptly turned on your heel, not bothering to look back as you stormed out of the gym, letting the doors slam shut behind you.
Well.
Today's practice could have gone a lot better. No, fuck that, today's practice should have gone a lot better.
After you had left in a huff, Chris had stayed behind, wanting to give himself some time to calm down.
It wasn't that he was mad at you, persay.
It was more so the fact that you had given up so fucking easily, hadn't even tried to give it your all.
Not even a day after you had been introduced to the team, it had been determined that he himself, the one they called 'Motionless', would be in charge of overseeing your training, tasked with the job of shaping you into something more than just a rookie, something better, a valuable asset to their task force.
And it had gone well for the first couple of days. Or at least, he thought it had.
Up until today, that is.
The two of you had been here in the private training gym since 10am, working on turning you from the shiny new recruit into a powerhouse of a cadet. The only problem? You were stubborn as hell, insistent on doing things your way, even though time and effort had shown your methods to be flawed.
He was only trying to do his fucking job, after all. The same job he'd done countless times before, with nearly every new recruit that came into their squad bay.
So why did this particular job affect him this badly?
Why did you affect him this badly...?
It wasn't like he was asking you to move mountains for him, no. He simply wanted someone he could be proud of, someone who could easily defend themselves if their team was down for the count, someone who he wouldn't have to hear had died in action, or been taken hostage, or god knows what.
The mere thought had Chris grimacing in distaste as he sighed, heading for the gym doors. He only wanted you to be able to defend yourself, that was all. The world could be an unkind place sometimes...
"He's arrogant, and cold, and a complete dick."
One corner of your mouth tugged itself up in a brief snarl as you sat there at the table in the mess hall, conversing with some of your fellow team members.
The smallest one, the one you've heard people call Vinny, spoke up, shifting slightly in his seat across from you. "He's not that bad, you just gotta figure him out. Pretty easy to get along with after that," he shrugged.
Easy for him to say, he and the three other people sitting here already had it in good with Lieutenant Cerulli. Upon you pointing this out, Vinny shrugged again, an unbothered look on his face.
"That's because we've been here longer. Give it some time," his teammate cut in, blue eyes finding yours with a wink. You sighed, your gaze dropping from his to settle on the little patch fixed to his tactical vest, the word 'HORROR' embroidered in a neat white font.
That's the other thing that bothered you about Cerulli's teaching methods. Everyone else had a callsign they went by, except for the new recruits who came in. Everybody here at the table had one, 'HORROR', 'SACHETTI', 'SKIEZ', even one with the more normal callsign of simply 'JUSTIN'.
Everybody had a designated name, a sign of place here, a sign that they were acknowledged, respected, valid. But you'd come to discover that here, as a part of this team and this base, titles didn't come easily. You had to fucking earn them.
Every new recruit before you had earned theirs, they had fought and trained to claw their way into the system, they had fucking earned their place here. Cerulli had told you so, himself.
But you?
You were still the fresh, shiny new rookie who everyone assumed knew nothing because you were young, you were small, you had only been here a week...
You'd be lying to yourself if you said it didn't sting a little, the way everyone seemed to view you here. Sure, the teammates sitting here at the table had treated you fairly enough, but everyone else? If you weren't bearing a callsign and a knowledge of how to defend yourself, you weren't worth their time...
"Hey."
Horror's voice cut into your thoughts, making your gaze snap up to meet his.
"I know it might seem like he's riding you a little too hard right now, but... I promise, his heart's in the right place. Give him a chance, out of everyone here, he's your best shot when it comes to training. You didn't hear this from me and if you ever repeat it, I'll kick your ass, rookie... but I would trust Cerulli with my life, more than I'd trust myself."
"We all would," Vinny cut in, both of his teammates beside him nodding in agreement.
"Give him some time. He might seem like a dick, but his methods work," Justin agreed, offering you a light half-smile.
You stared down at the tabletop for a second, not really seeing it as you contemplated what they told you, turning it over in your mind.
You knew what you should do. It wasn't what you wanted to do, by any means. But if what they told you was true, then... maybe it needed to be done.
Maybe you should gather up what was left of your dignity and go crawling back to Cerulli to apologize. Or, at the very least, to see if he'd give you a second chance at training.
You could be the bigger person here, right? Take all of his teachings with a grain of salt, so to speak?
Ugh...
With a groan, you shoved your plate of food away from you, resting your head facedown atop your crossed arms.
"I know, I know. But I'm telling you... if you give him a chance and show him that you actually have a desire to learn? It'll be the best decision you've ever made, rookie," Horror said, his tone laced with amusement.
Would it though?
With another quiet grumble, you slowly lifted your head, exchanging a glance with Vinny, who grinned. "Want me to let him know you're heading down there?"
You immediately shook your head at him, a grimace marring your features. "No, please don't. It's embarrassing enough that I have to go back and apologize to him..."
"Then do us a favor and kick his ass, I guess? It'd be kind of satisfying to know Chris had his ass handed to him by our newest recruit," Horror grinned.
Hmm... that was a rather tempting thought... to take everything Cerulli taught you and really give it back to him...
"Alright, fine. Deal," you agreed, getting up from the table. "Oh and... thanks, Horror. I kind of needed that, I guess," you added softly.
Shrugging, he gave you a light mock-salute in response.
"Sure. And, from now on... no Horror. Only Ricky."
Nodding, you bade your teammates farewell before slinking out of the mess hall, determined to find Cerulli and make good on your promise.
You only hoped he'd actually give you a second chance and not let it go to his head...
"Have Jensen work with you more on it tomorrow, your aim's a little off. Go get some rest."
Chris watched one of the recruits he'd been training retreat into the distance, the smell of smoke and polishing oil still heavy in the air on the rifle range.
And then something caught his eye.
Or rather, someone.
Your figure gradually became more detailed as you approached, and Chris internally groaned.
If you were here to give him more shit and another lovely 'Fuck you', he wasn't having it...
But the look on your face told a different story. Your brows were drawn together in worry, any traces of your usual anger and frustration gone, a look of nervousness in place.
He waited until you were about four feet away from him before he spoke up, his voice cold.
"If you're here to train, go ask someone else."
But your response surprised him a little, catching him off guard.
"I actually came to apologize..."
You... come again??
"What-" he began, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.
"No, let me finish. I, um... I talked to Horror, er, I mean Ricky. I talked to Ricky and the others, and... and they told me to come back here and give you another chance. I... I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry."
Huh. Leave it to Rick to sort things out behind the scenes, ever the peacemaker as always....
Silence settled between the two of you for a moment, before Chris spoke up.
"Why?"
That one word lingered there in the air, and your brows furrowed in confusion. "Why, what? Why... am I sorry, or...?" you asked, trailing off.
"No. Why did you give up on me? Why the fuck'd you decide you were done?"
"I..." your voice faltered for a moment, your gaze dropping to stare down at the grassy field, and Chris watched as you frowned, digging the toe of your boot into the grass.
Fourteen.
Fourteen times.
It was a habit he'd noticed you had, whenever you were uncertain or anxious. Not every recruit had little tics or habits they'd pick up, but the few that did? Chris noticed.
He always noticed, especially more so when it came to you.
Fourteen times this past week that you'd been here, fourteen times he'd seen you dig the toe of your boot into whatever surface you were standing on, your hands and fingers fidgeting either in front of you or at your sides.
Fourteen times he'd stopped to watch you, his attention utterly fucking captivated by you.
Slowly, he took one step towards you, followed by another, and still another, until he was a mere foot away from you.
"Is it because you don't think you're good enough? You don't think you have what it takes, or what?" he asked softly, trying to keep his tone gentle.
The way you avoided his gaze immediately after he asked the question told him everything he needed to know.
"Do you really think you're not worthy of a place here? Is that it?" he continued, the mounting tension in the air becoming more palpable.
Almost an entire minute or two went by without you answering him, and he started to repeat the question until you finally did answer him, your voice surprisingly strained and sounding on the verge of breaking.
"No."
You didn't have to specify for him to know what that single word meant.
He could feel it, could see the way you thought of yourself as you stood here in front of him.
And for some reason, he didn't like it.
He hated it.
He hated the newfound knowledge of how you saw yourself, how it seemed everyone else had been seeing you, since the day you'd arrived.
You really didn't think you were worthy of a place here, did you? The thought that he himself might have been a contributing factor in that made him feel sick.
Fuck... if he'd stopped for just a second to try and see things your way, see how it felt to be an outsider-
But he did know how it felt.
Memories of his first week as a frightened, inexperienced new recruit flashed through his mind, images of a young, dark-haired boy who had no clue what the fuck he was doing...
Chris swallowed hard, his gaze locked on you as he spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You... deserve to be here. You know that, don't you?"
"Do I?"
Your immediate response, the way you mumbled the question without even bothering to look at him, it made his insides feel sick.
And he'd been hard on you today...
Granted, he was hard on everyone who fell under his guidance, but... you were different.
More fragile and feeling and human than the others, you had caught his attention almost right away.
And when they'd insisted he be the one to train you-
Holy fuck.
He'd figured it out.
The sudden realization had him internally reeling, absolutely losing it.
He'd been harder on you than the others because... he cared more.
He cared almost too much, surely more than what was appropriate, right?
Fuck...
Swallowing hard, he reached out towards you for a second, his hand lingering there in the space between you, before he let it fall back to his side.
Steeling himself to avoid the tears he could feel burning at the edge of his vision, he gritted his teeth, before gesturing to his left, the movement finally capturing your attention.
"Headphones. Weapon. Now."
Your eyes widened for a moment, your voice faltering as you spoke.
"What are you-"
He cut you off midsentence, his tone hardening, though his gaze remained soft as he stared down at you.
"I'm training you."
"I'm training you."
The words hit you like a punch to the gut, catching you off guard and making your breath hitch in your throat.
You'd come out here to apologize, expecting him to turn you away with a refusal of said apology, and instead... he was giving you a second chance?
Swallowing hard, you slowly turned and grabbed a set of the soundproof headphones out of the box nearby, plugging one end of the attached cord into the wireless comm pack, the other end connecting to the headphones themselves, before tucking the comm pack into the front pocket of your tactical vest.
You watched as Lieutenant Cerulli did the same, reaching up with one inked hand to turn on the comm link and adjust the mic, and after doing the same, you could hear his voice come through the speakers.
"Weapon, now."
Without a word, you followed his order, grabbing one of the rifles propped up nearby, the weight of the weapon seeming almost too heavy and unfamiliar in your hands.
You weren't scheduled for rifle range practice until at least a week or two from now, surely he had to have known that...?
Upon telling him so, Cerulli shrugged, casting you a sideways glance before gesturing towards the targets out in the distance.
"Doesn't matter. I'm teaching you now. And I expect you to be willing to learn. I also expect you to hit at least one of those."
You followed his gaze, staring out at the targets sitting on the grassy field. From here, they looked to be at least a mile or more away, surely too far to even graze with a bullet, right?
No, no... you were determined to get this.
This morning's practice may have gone terribly, but that didn't mean this one would.
Taking a deep cleansing breath, you moved to stand where he wanted you, lifting the weapon in your hands.
And almost immediately, Cerulli's voice came through the speakers.
"No. Your stance is off. Here, look."
You felt one of his legs nudge yours apart, correcting your stance, before an inked hand came into view, reaching forward to adjust the position of the rifle in your hands.
"Look through the little lens, until you have the center of the target in your crosshairs. And when you pull that trigger, keep as tight a grip as you can, because there's gonna be some kickback from the rifle. It'll knock you on your fucking ass if you're not paying attention."
You nodded, taking another deep breath before doing as he said, looking through the lens. From here, that target looked so fucking tiny, nearly impossible to hit.
"I can't do this-" you started.
"Yes, you can. You can and you will."
Cerulli's voice was quiet in your ears, his tone gentle, and you could feel the close proximity of him behind you as he reached forward to make a slight adjustment to the rifle again, his fingers brushing briefly across yours before he let go.
"I want you to focus, and really try for me. You can do this, I know you can. Stop second guessing yourself, Y/N..."
His touch, combined with the use of your actual name, instead of his usual 'rookie' pet name for you, sent electric tingles down your spine, your heart stumbling over itself within the confines of your ribcage.
Your throat suddenly felt tight, your mind racing as you tried desperately to remember what he'd told you, how to correctly aim and fire.
Swallowing nervously, you looked through the lens again, taking a deep breath and curling your finger around the trigger. A mere second passed before you brought that finger down a little tighter, squeezing the trigger.
Even with the protective headphones, you could still hear the bullet as it left the chamber, could smell the scent of gunsmoke and oil as it left its home. And Cerulli had been right, there was indeed some kickback from the rifle.
But you dug the heels of your boots into the ground, trying to stay firmly in place. Still, you stumbled backwards a little, your back meeting Cerulli's chest, his hands instantly coming up to your shoulders to steady you.
"Good, but your aim was a little off, I want you to try again."
His tone was far less harsh than it had been this morning, his whole demeanor vastly different.
A part of you wanted to look back, to see if the heat you felt gathering in your cheeks would be reflected in those brown eyes of his.
But the bigger part of you insisted on staying focused, on seeing your training through.
Steeling yourself, you cast a brief glance out towards the target in the distance. He was right, your aim was more than a little off.
You could see from here the impact left by the bullet, the mark nowhere close to the center.
Looking through the lens to correct your aim, you took a deep steadying breath before pulling and releasing the trigger again, preparing yourself for the anticipated kickback.
It came a little easier this time, your weight being distributed a bit more evenly in order to keep your feet firmly on the ground.
And when you glanced out at the target, you found yourself a little too satisfied that the mark had hit a bit closer to home this time.
"Again," came Cerulli's velvet voice in your ears, his presence behind you more noticeable as he took one half-step closer to you.
Trying your hardest to ignore the sudden distraction, you nodded, taking aim before firing again, the crack of the bullet loud in the late afternoon air. You watched the target, taking note of how much closer the bullet had hit.
"Slight improvement, Y/N. Again, one more time."
You shifted your weight a little, taking aim one last time, making sure the target was dead center in the crosshairs before you pulled the trigger, the bullet leaving its mark just a touch away from the center of the target, this time.
You dared to glance over your shoulder for a brief moment, and when your eyes met his, your breath trembled as it left your slightly parted lips. The look in his eyes, on his face, it was the only time you'd ever seen him look even remotely... proud...
The longer you kept your eyes locked on his, the more you noticed the way his irises seemed to darken, one corner of his mouth twitching into what looked like a smirk before it was gone.
"So...?" you asked, your voice coming out in a breathless whisper. You nervously cleared your throat before continuing. "How'd I do...?"
Cerulli's response came in an instant, his voice low and hoarse as he kept his eyes fixed on you.
"Good- good fucking job, Y/N..."
You barely had time to crack the tiniest of smiles before Cerulli was holding up a finger towards you, reaching with his other hand to unholster the handgun he kept at his side at all times.
With a slight tremble, he reached out with one inked hand to pass the sleek black weapon to you, waiting for you to take it.
"I want to try something new with you..."
"I want to try something new with you..."
The words left his mouth before even he knew what was happening, what he was doing.
But to his surprise, you wordlessly set aside the rifle, taking the smaller weapon from his hand and immediately settling back into your previous stance, your feet firmly planted on the ground, though your gaze never left his for a second.
"Like this?"
Your voice reached his ears through the speakers, your tone soft and tentative, a vast change from the fiery attitude you'd displayed for him this morning.
He nodded, swallowing hard past the new, unfamiliar emotions building up within himself.
His throat suddenly felt dry, his palms unusually slick with sweat, and why the fuck was his heart stuttering every so often instead of beating like it was supposed to-
Oh.
Oh.
Well, fuck.
His eyes widened momentarily before he fought to quickly regain his composure, moving to stand behind you.
Reaching up with one hand, he tried hard to focus on helping you adjust your grip on the handgun, instead of focusing on how he could feel the warmth of your back against his chest, or the way you smelled faintly of strawberries and something slightly floral, was that... roses?
His jaw tensing a little, Chris leaned back, his hand slipping from yours, though his fingers lingered just a moment longer than necessary, as he watched you.
"S-same thing as before. Take aim, and... well, you know."
"Fire," came your response, a hint of sudden amusement in your voice. He nodded, unable to keep one corner of his mouth from lifting in a brief smirk.
"Exactly."
He watched as you stood there, inhaling for a second before letting it go, pulling the trigger, the crack of the bullet leaving its chamber a satisfying sound to his ears.
And when he looked out in the distance and saw how close you'd come to hitting that target dead fucking center...
You were a quick learner, once you got out of your own head and stopped being so stubborn. He could see it now, anyone could.
Hell, if you'd let him, he could probably shape you into one of the best recruits he'd ever taught, turn you into an absolute powerhouse of a soldier, maybe even help you earn Ghost status on TF141, a position that was highly strived for and sought after by many, but earned by so very few.
You didn't even have your callsign yet, you hadn't quite earned it yet. But by the time he was done with you...
'Bet you could have her coming undone for you...' the sudden errant thought slipped unbidden into his head before he could stop it, and he could feel the heat rush to his face.
Fuck, he needed to quit thinking like that, he knew it was wrong, it was so fucking wrong, and besides, would you even feel the same way he did-?
The sharp crack of another bullet leaving the chamber snapped him out of his thoughts, and he watched in shock as this time, finally--
Holy fuck.
It hit dead center in that target.
He stood there, his eyes widening, mouth slightly open in surprise as you immediately turned around, the biggest grin on your face.
"Bam. Dead center!"
The excitement in your voice was all too infectious, and he found himself starting to smile, a sense of newfound pride for you welling up inside him.
And when you locked eyes with him, giving him a wink and another excited little smile, something inside himself clicked into place, the decision made before he could stop it.
So it was just like that, all too suddenly, without practically any warning, that he was leaning down towards you, moving his and your mics out of the way, his mouth finding yours in the briefest of kisses, and oh fuck, what the fuck was he doing, what if you didn't-
But then there you were, yet again catching him off guard today, kissing him back, your mouth soft and yielding against his, your body arching into his touch, the handgun slipping from your fingers to land in the grass at his feet, your hand reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging softly-
Fuck, you were like heaven to him-!
The softest of groans left his throat, and he could've sworn he heard his name fall from your lips for a moment, before the two of you finally parted, standing there staring at each other, breath coming out in quiet gasps.
He could see the heat flooding your cheeks, could feel the warmth coming from you, took notice of the way your eyes darkened with barely concealed desire.
So it wasn't just him, then.
You could feel it, too...?
Almost like you could hear his unspoken question, you gave a slight nod, your breath coming out in soft pants before you spoke.
"That was... um, yeah. Fuck. Wow."
It wasn't enough, hearing your voice filtered in through the speakers, Chris needed to hear it in person. Reaching up to shut off the comm link on his headphones, he tugged them off, watching as you did the same, discarding them back in their bin, before retrieving his weapon from the grass and reholstering it.
"You, uh... job well done today, Y/N," he said, awkwardly extending a hand out towards you. You eyed it dubiously, not shaking it and instead raising a brow at him as you gave him a confused look.
"We're back to formalities now...?"
The way you asked the question, the slight tinge of poorly concealed hurt starting to reflect there in your eyes, Chris didn't like it.
"I- you-" he scrambled to try and find a proper response, not wanting to leave you hanging. "We... we can't do that again-" the words seemed to tumble from his mouth, one right after the other.
And the injured look on your face, the way you swallowed hard, your eyes taking on a glassy look before you quickly blinked, hoping he wouldn't see-
Fuck. It was a lie, and he knew it. He couldn't do that to you, couldn't lie to you like this, it wasn't fair to you.
"I- Y/N, sweetheart, look at me. I... can't be the reason they make you leave. Because they will. And... and you won't get your callsign, you-"
"I don't care."
You cut him off midsentence, those three words giving him pause.
"You- what?"
You repeated those three words, your gaze hardening as you stared up at him, your resolve never wavering even as your eyes remained on the verge of swimming with unshed tears.
"I... I think maybe I thought, if I hated you enough, it wouldn't matter how I felt about you. I thought maybe if I didn't let myself care enough, it wouldn't fucking matter someday, if we were out in the field together and one of us went missing. It wouldn't... hurt as much.
"And... and I know that's not an excuse for why I was probably one of the brattiest recruits you've ever had, and I know it probably doesn't make it any better, or any easier-"
"Stop," Chris cut you off mid-rant, his voice on the verge of breaking.
So that's why you had been so difficult to work with during your first few weeks here.
It wasn't because you hated him, not truly.
It was the exact opposite.
It was because you... cared too much for him?
"I'm sorry, I should've told you sooner, I... you made it too easy to hate you and I... I didn't like the idea of becoming too attached, of caring too much, of..." your voice trailed off at the end, your gaze dropping to stare down at the grass.
And then you did the one thing he'd gotten so used to noticing, one of the many things about you that he found a little too endearing.
You nervously dug the toe of your boot into the grass, your fingers fidgeting in front of you.
"Of what?" Chris asked softly, urging you to continue.
And your next words nearly broke him.
"Of falling in love with you."
Brown eyes widening, Chris took a step towards you, taking both of your hands in his, and giving them a gentle squeeze.
"Hey, look at me. I..." he broke off with a gentle sigh before continuing, "it's not that I don't want this, I promise you, I do. There's so many things about you, tiny little things that other people don't notice, that I find adorable and endearing and- Y/N, sweetheart.
"I... I think maybe I might be falling for you too. But as badly as I want this to work, I also want to see you come out of this as part of our team, I want so many things for you. I want you to be able to have your own callsign to go by, I want to see you leave my care as one of the best recruits this place has ever had, I want..."
He trailed off, his thoughts racing at a million miles an hour. What was it exactly that he wanted, more than anything else, more than he'd ever wanted anything?
The answer was both simple, and at the same time, not simple.
He wanted you.
"What, what do you want?"
He pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his words coming out mumbled and broken.
"I want you."
"So have me..."
Your response, the way you said it, the way you moved to gently card your fingers through his hair, almost as a semblance of trying to comfort him, he wasn't expecting any of it.
Lifting his head to gaze down at you, he swallowed thickly past the raw emotion he could feel building up inside.
"But it's not that simple, Y/N-"
"Okay, and the life I've chosen here, with you and everyone else, isn't simple either. But... maybe we can figure it out... together..?"
Your voice held so much conviction, your tone determined, your demeanor suggesting you weren't about to back down. It reminded him so much of your first week here, of how training this morning had gone.
You'd been so defiant, determined then, too.
You were really pushing for this to work out, weren't you? He had to admire your tenacity...
With a soft sigh, he met your gaze, silently pleading with you. "What if this doesn't work-?"
You cut him off midsentence, taking the lead for once and standing up on your tiptoes to capture his mouth in the softest, gentlest of kisses, both of your hands briefly moving to cup his face between them, the gesture utterly pure and wholesome.
When you pulled back to look up at him, he wasn't surprised to see that same conviction had settled there in your eyes, one corner of your mouth lifting in a wry smile.
"Then we keep trying until it does work? Just like my training?" you whispered.
He couldn't help the laugh that slipped free from his lips; the comparison was too perfect. But maybe you were right...
Maybe if the two of you kept trying, eventually things would work themselves out...
He just had to try.
"Okay," he sighed softly, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Is... is that a yes, or...?" you asked, casting a tentative sideways glance up at him, and he nodded, trying not to laugh at the way you were failing to hide the sly smile on your face.
"It's a yes, rookie..."
🥀 SIX MONTHS LATER 🥀
"And it is with the highest, greatest honor, that we present this new recruit with their place on our team, here as a part of Taskforce 141. With many months of training and guidance under the care of our own Lieutenant Christopher Cerulli, this recruit has proven themselves beyond the highest measure.
"It is with much respect that we announce to you all how proud we are to acknowledge the new addition to our team."
Horror and his teammates sat there in the audience, his blue eyes fixed on the scene before him and everyone else, on the small recruit standing up there on that stage, with the tall Lieutenant standing proudly beside her.
And it was with the greatest sense of pride and love that he sat there, watching as you finally, finally got the one thing you'd been wanting since you first joined their base: to be a part of their team, to just belong.
Chris had been right about you from the beginning; with more training and devotion and care, you would indeed grow to be one of the sharpest recruits they'd turned out in a long time. He'd also noticed the way your relationship with his best friend had blossomed, how close you and Chris had gotten over these past six months.
Vin and everyone else had made cracks about it, that they'd known all along something was going on between you and Chris, it had just been a matter of time. He knew better than that though, the dynamic you and his best friend had, it went so much deeper than that.
Anyone could see it if they looked hard enough, really. He could see it.
The way Chris stood there, his hand clasped tightly in yours, the proud Lieutenant and his newest recruit, one bearing the familiar patch with the callsign 'MOTIONLESS' embroidered in pristine white letters... and the other bearing a callsign of her own, 'GREMLIN'.
Horror couldn't help but smile at the slight irony as he sat there; how fitting the name was for you. Tiny recruit, sure, but full of fiery passion... with a knack of never backing down, always ready to go head to head with anyone on their best day, or even their worst day...
"Welcome to the team, rookie... you made it."
💀 TAGLIST: @synthetic-wasp-570 @nixwolfe @th4t-em0-k1d @tearfallpixie @ladyveronikawrites @nerdraging4point0 @thesazzb @circle-with-me @motionlessomens @thatchickwiththecamera @skulliecadaver-blog @embracethereaper42 @talialovesmiw @bxrnthyfears @cookiesupplier @bobateaandchocolatepudding @somewhere-diamond @beaker1636 @ciginatree
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
#cod! chris motionless#cod! chris cerulli#call of duty#chris cerulli oneshot#chris motionless oneshot#chris motionless#chris cerulli#chris motionless x reader#chris cerulli x reader#motionless in white#miw things#miw#cod#crossover fic#callsign: motionless
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Field Day Reunion* | Part 2
Summary: Harry finally takes Y/N home when Charlie is with his grandmother for the night.
Pairing: Singledad!Harry x Teacher!Y/N
Word count: 5K
Warnings: Lovemaking, oral f receiving, eager babies, exes to lovers?
A/N: I imagine Harry and Y/N to be British in this universe, so they went to highschool from age 11 - 16(ish) and college from 16 - 20(ish). Idk why but I felt the need to specify haha ENJOY LOVES
Harry and Y/N agreed to take things slow for the sake of Charlie. This means that they have been going on dates every now and then, but not every weekend because Harry doesn't want to just drop off his kid at Anne's, so he can go out with this woman. That doesn't mean however that they don't see each other.
Y/N started teaching Charlie's class a couple of weeks ago. Ever since then, Harry sees her every day because he is the one who drops Charlie off at school and picks him up later in the day. Those little moments are filled with loving glances and private jokes but also Harry teasingly flirting with the love of his life.
Yes, Harry is absolutely smitten by this woman. Given their history, he now believes that he shouldn't have let her go back then. Yes, being high school sweethearts who are going to different colleges isn't the perfect scenario for two love birds. They didn't want to do the long-distance thing when they were only 17, but Harry now knows it would've all been worth it.
He doesn't regret their decisions though. If the two of them never broke up, Harry would've never become a dad to Charlie and he wouldn't want to miss him for the world. The kid is his life, he'd literally give everything to see that little cheeky smile on the four-year-old's face.
Anne was a big fan of Y/N when they were teenagers, she was the sweetest girl so of course she approved of Harry dating her. So when Harry told his mom how Y/N is now Charlie's new teacher she was excited, to say the least. But when he told his mother that they had been on a date, her heart was filled with love. She was rooting for his son, finally meeting that happiness he was so dearly craving.
So, from the moment Harry announces to his mom about him and Y/N taking it slow, Anne has done anything in her power to help Harry out. Taking over babysitting duty whenever she can and just keeping the little boy out of her son's way. Hinting at her son how she's free next Saturday, in case Charlie wants to come play at grandma's house. Just, everything.
And that's exactly why, this afternoon, he decides to take his mom up on that offer. Harry and Y/N have been on four official dates so far and not once has he taken her home. It felt a bit too forward, too soon. But today was different, Harry invited her over to his house, show her around and make his intentions very clear, she's a keeper.
“Char, come on. Put your shoes on, grandma is waiting for you.” Harry tells his son, picking up the overnight bag he packed for his son.
“Where are you going, daddy? I wanna go too!” The little boy cries, pouting at his dad with such innocence.
“I'm sorry, buddy. But you are staying with grandma.” Harry explains to his son, feeling a bit guilty. But he also didn't want to specify anything about his plans for today. See, Charlie is the biggest fan of Y/N at school and it warms Harry's heart to see him so fond of her. But that only gives him more reasons to keep his love life in the shadows for his son.
“But why?” Charlie whines, but knowing it's already a lost battle, he slips on his shoes in silence. Harry shakes his head, suppressing a giggle. Once a kid starts asking why, you know there is no ending to the discussion.
“Let's go, Char.” Harry states instead, dragging his boy out of their house and into the car.
After he drops Charlie off and Anne's, he drives straight back home. His heart pounding with nerves. He'd be lying if he said that he isn't a little bit anxious right now. He hasn't had a girl over for years on end, not in this context. And he's really hoping she's going to want to stay over. He told her to bring an overnight bag, just in case she wanted to stay. He also mentioned how Charlie is sleeping at his mother's place, hoping it would send the right message, but he wasn't quite sure.
When he arrives home, he finds Y/N just parking her car a little further down the street. She's on time, more like half an hour early. Harry lets out a nervous giggle and he hopes that it isn't too obvious that he's anxious right now.
“Eager much?” He jokes as soon as she reaches his front yard. She giggles slightly embarrassed and Harry simply wants to kiss that cute blush off her face.
“I didn't want to run late. Traffic, you know.” She explains, a small smile gracing her face.
“Relax, babe. I'm glad you are early, actually.” Harry smiles sweetly, pulling her in for a quick hug and placing a quick kiss on her lips. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Y/N lets out a flirtatious giggle, getting on her toes to press her lips on his. Harry instantly melts into the kiss, holding her tightly against his chest.
“C'mon, let's go inside.” Harry whispers, pulling away a bit hesitantly. Y/N softly nods in agreement and Harry loosens his grip on her, only to grab her hand and guide her inside. “Welcome to our home.”
“It looks lovely.” Y/N compliments, letting her eyes roam around the living room. You can tell by the way his space is organised that Harry is a neat person, the room is filled with all things the father and son love dearly. A nice TV hangs against the wall, some family pictures are scattered around the wall above the couch and the wall across the room holds shelves filled with movies, video games and records. It's all Harry and it takes the man's breath away knowing that she likes his place.
“Thank you.”
“Let me give you a tour.” Harry says, tugging on her arm and guiding her through his entire house. She had already seen the small hallway when she first entered the house, and a glimpse of the living room, but there is more. There is an open kitchen concept which leads out into the backyard with big sliding doors. It's really neat and pretty, every one of the rooms in the house has little Harry vibes. The house screams family home, it suits Harry really well.
When they finish the tour downstairs, Harry hesitates to show her his upstairs living space. He feels like taking her upstairs is something very intimate, maybe even too forward, yet he would love to show her around. With an unsure glance at her, Harry points his finger to the stairs, silently asking if she wants to continue the tour.
Y/N nods softly and gives him a sweet, yet excited smile. “Let's go, I'm very curious.” She says causing Harry to chuckle and they continue their walk through his house.
“Okay, so this is Charlie's room and his bathroom.” Harry explains. Y/N takes it all in as if he's giving her the time of her life. Harry is beyond grateful because he really does love her and he hopes that she is going to melt into their lives and live here one day.
They move over to the other side of the hallway, Harry gestures at the next room, rubbing the back of his neck a bit nervously. Y/N opens the door carefully when Harry speaks up. “This is uh- my room.” She pushes the door open further and carefully walks inside.
“This is very you.” She giggles when he walks in after her. Harry doesn't know why, but a blush creeps up his cheeks. Y/N isn't mocking him or making fun of him, her giggle sounds very fond, maybe she is just as nervous as he is.
The bedroom is decorated with warm colours and it features a king-sized bed that looks comfy and cosy. Y/N's gaze is glued to the bed, no doubt in her mind that she'd like to sleep in a bed like that. Especially if that means Harry would be right next to her.
She doesn't ponder her thoughts for too long because she knows that it will end with an almost unbearable aching between her legs.
When they dated in high school, they were only 15 years old. So sleeping with one another was out of the question. They kept dating until they were 16 and 17, but it still didn't feel right for them at that moment to take that step. Now that they are both adults and they want to take things a bit more seriously, Harry would like to finally take the next step in their relationship. Maybe tonight.
“Uhm- so behind you is my ensuite.” He points to the door behind her, gesturing at it with a little nod.
“Oh my.” Y/N's attention is immediately turned to the door when Harry mentions it. She slowly opens the door, stepping into the big room. It's modern and clean, and oh so spacious. There's a walk-in shower and a big tub next to it.
Harry just watches her in awe as she explores the bathroom. She almost seems mesmerised by his place and that makes his heart flutter. It's like she belongs in here and it is her house.
Y/N makes her way back to Harry with a dreamy look in her eyes. She wraps her arms around Harry's neck and pulls him close. She sighs. “Your home looks very lovely, Harry.”
“Not as lovely as you.” He blurts out in a weak attempt at flirting, but it comes off a bit nervous so he might have failed miserably.
“You're cheesy.” Y/N giggles. Harry tightens his grip on her waist and pulls her impossibly closer, flashing her a dimpled smile. Y/N leans in and lets her lips softly brush his in a very gentle kiss. Harry immediately melts into the kiss, tilting his head down to kiss her deeper, but she abruptly pulls away after only a second.
“I- uh- I'll go put my bag in this room, if that's okay?” She asks and Harry crooks his head to the side.
“Does that mean what I think it means?”
“Depends on what you're thinking.” She winks and pulls away from Harry.
“That you are going to stay over.” Harry flashes her a flirtatious smile.
“Exactly.” Y/N nods in agreement, a smug smile on her face and a glimpse of hope flashing in her eyes. “If that's still alright with you?”
“Of course, you don't have to ask.” Harry reassures, making her grin widely. He squeezes her hand for a second and then releases her hand, letting her step away and put her bag in the room.
Harry is beyond excited now, hoping for them to take their relationship to the next level. If they hadn't broken up back in high school, Harry might've even proposed by now. Yeah, he'd love to be married to her one day. But maybe it's too soon to be thinking about marriage, he remembers how it felt to be with her, back when they were only kids, hopelessly in love. He wants that back, now more than ever.
***
Y/N comes back downstairs to see that Harry is already making dinner. He greets her with a wide smile and places a soft peck on her lips.
“Mmh, what's that smell?” She asks curiously, leaning on the counter in the kitchen and watching Harry move around confidently.
“You, I reckon.” He smirks. Y/N lightly shakes her head, failing to hide her smile. “I'm making you pasta, love.”
“Mmmh, my favourite.”
“I know.” Harry smiles proudly.
Harry lets her know how she can pick a wine if she wants, and where she can find some glasses. She of course doesn't miss the obvious fact that Harry has planned everything ahead. That certainly turns her on.
They eat in a comfortable silence, their ankles playfully tangling with one another. Harry does the dishes while Y/N takes a second in the living room to scroll through her phone. As soon as the kitchen is clean, Harry joins her on the couch. He lifts her legs, placing them on his lap and letting her lean into his side.
“Charlie was a little upset to leave.” Harry says all of a sudden. Y/N chuckles, knowing just how clingy that four-year-old is to his dad. She finds that unbelievably adorable.
“Is he going to be mad at us?” She asks, not knowing how to proceed. She doesn't want the cute and innocent little boy to dislike her in any way.
“Us? No. Me? Maybe. I haven't told him about us yet, don't want him to tell the whole class and make it awkward for you at work.” Harry explains causing Y/N to smirk and nod, loving that he cares that much.
“So what does he think we are?” Y/N pries.
“I've told him you are my friend and that I like you a whole lot.” Harry tells her, making her smile.
“A whole lot, huh?” Y/N giggles and wiggles her eyebrows. Harry flashes her a cheeky smile and runs his fingers through her hair. “Sounds like you have a little crush.” She teases.
“Hmm, kinda do. Can't help it though.” Harry admits and leans into her, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. Y/N squirms under his touch, silently letting him know that this is okay. Then, she dips her head slightly and closes her lips on his.
The kiss instantly deepens and Y/N quickly crawls into Harry's lap, getting a better angle to kiss him passionately. His hands rest on her hips and hold her in place as he slowly kisses his way down her neck. Y/N closes her eyes, taking in the touch and taste of Harry. God, he really does turn her on.
So far they hadn't had the opportunity to make out like this. It's all been dates outside of either of their homes and kisses over the console of his car or at her front door. Feeling her thighs on each side of him and her lips working his like it's her favourite pastime makes Harry understand how badly he wants this to work out.
She lets her arms drape around his neck as her mouth finds his again, this time kissing him hungrily. Her lips sloppily brush against his, her teeth leaving grazes against his already tender bottom lip. He's just as eager to make out with her as she is.
She eventually breaks away, though, just to reconnect with those green gems Harry calls his eyes. He gives her a warm smile and his thumbs run under her shirt.
“You are so beautiful, love. Always been.” Harry murmurs against her lips before going in for another kiss. The gesture takes her back to high school, them sharing kisses on her porch after he walked her home from school. Always ending with a tight hug and whispers that went something like this.
But she's not in high school anymore, and so are her urges. Now, she simply can't get enough of Harry, and by the feeling of a firm swelling in his pants, she knows he is affected as much as she. It's quite the ego boost.
Harry had spent many nights, imagining how his first time making love to her would go. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her heat deliciously dripping, his name leaving her lips in a quivering cry when they both reach the peak of their pleasure. But he always kept the fantasy bundled up in his mind, he knew that it was too soon for that. Not anymore, though, because Y/N makes it very clear to him that she wants him.
“Harry.” She whimpers and rolls her hips into his. Her core grinds against his crotch and she swears she could make herself come from this. Just humping his bulge will be enough to have her reeling.
“I'm taking that as your consent, love.” Harry murmurs, pecking her lips. But she doesn't reply, she just hums in agreement. Enough for Harry to lift the two of them up, causing her to squeal slightly. He carries her upstairs and drops her on the bed.
It's happening.
Harry climbs on top of her, pressing her down with his weight. His lips crash back on hers and she accepts his passionate kisses with just the same amount of passion. She tumbles her hands around his neck, making sure he stays exactly where he is right now.
After a few minutes of more intense making out, Harry needs to come up for air. His chest is rising and falling and his hair is a hot mess, Y/N giggles teasingly, running her fingers through it to arrange it neatly.
“You're gorgeous.” Harry utters and places a delicate kiss on her jaw, Y/N lets out a shaky breath. Her heart soars when Harry compliments her. Her chin tilts towards him, their mouths closing in for more sucking and licking and biting and tugging. “But I'm dying to know how gorgeous you are underneath all this.”
She can't help the blood that rushes to her cheeks, and she can hardly breathe. Harry reaches down, lifting her shirt over her head. He wastes no time as soon as the fabric passes over her body. He's sucking the skin at her shoulder with eagerness.
“Fuck.” She curses as his teeth nip into her, his lips brushing it so faintly as soon as there's the red and purplish proof he's marked her. For a moment he feels guilty, thinking it's inappropriate, but he can't help but want this. He wants to become one with her and claim her as his own.
Harry gently kneads her breast with his hands, eliciting an erotic moan from her. Y/N isn't shy about her body. Her hand reaches to her back and she unclasps her bra, pulling it off and letting her boobs bounce freely. Harry gulps at the sight, they are just as magnificent as he had imagined them a few years back.
Harry kisses his way down her upper body and without a second thought, takes a nipple into his mouth. The man toys with it with his tongue, making Y/N's centre burn with desire. She hisses at the warmth of his mouth sucking and licking and nibbling. He then moves over to the other nipple, giving it equal attention before Y/N groans and speaks up.
“Fuck, I- I can't take it any longer, Harry.” Y/N whimpers, feeling her core starting to pulsate. She needs him there and she needs it now.
“Tell me what you want then, love.” Harry husks, his cock painfully straining in his trousers.
“Touch me. Eat me out, lick me clean. I don't care, but for fuck's sake-“ She heaves, her hands roaming down to the lining of Harry's trousers.
He doesn't need to be told twice, within a few seconds he is standing next to the bed, tugging off her trousers with her panties. Before quickly stripping down, he catches her eye looking longingly at the obvious erection in his boxers. She has been waiting for this to happen.
Y/N smiles as she observes him, he is so beautiful to her. His every flaw is precious. Y/N sees how his veins are straining underneath the thin layer of his skin as his fists clench around his bed sheets. How those plump pink lips are slightly parted, allowing his rapid, ragged breathing to escape.
Harry palms himself through his briefs, stroking his erection while keeping his eyes focused on the woman beneath him. With her lying on his bed in all her beauty, legs spread, his name on her parted lips. She is truly the epitome of sheer loveliness.
Harry kneels down at the side of the bed before he wraps his arms around her thighs to pull her closer to the edge. “You sure, baby?” He asks once more, although Y/N has been very clear with what she wants.
“Positive.” She mutters and in less than a second, Harry gently presses his lips against her folds. Kissing all around her pussy but never quite touching the most intimate parts. This drives her insane and her hands reach out to tangle in his curls, pulling him closer to her center. “Please.” She whimpers needily.
Harry doesn't make her wait, instead, he runs one finger through her folds before spreading them apart as his tongue prods over the heated skin. A loud grunt escapes his lips when he realises how sweet she tastes. It's everything he could've imagined and more. He then gets to work, flicking his tongue over her clit expertly, making Y/N buck her hips in appreciation. She pants, trying not to explode from pleasure at the feeling.
His free hand slides up to her lower stomach to hold her down and withhold her from squirming too much. Her juices are escaping from inside her, soiling his lips and chin and the duvet. Harry just can't get enough. His thumb scratches at her pelvis and as Y/N looks down, she sees him bobbing up and down eagerly, his eyes closed shut as he devours her. She hisses at the obscene sight.
“Ah- f-fuck!” Y/N stutters out, Harry now digging his fingers into her and slightly curling them inside her, hitting her g-spot and bringing her closer to her orgasm. “Harry!” She warns, her eyes practically rolling back at how he licks her, but that doesn't make him stop, no, he speeds up even.
His lips are locked on her clit, sucking as his fingertips massage her inner walls and let her slick seep out. She can't keep her legs still if she tries, her toes are curling and her thighs are shaking.
“Mmmh.” Harry moans lowly, tasting her juices as they keep flowing, signalling she won't last a second longer. “Come for me, darling.” He releases for a split second only to murmur those words, causing her body to respond with a shattering climax.
“Oh-ffu-Harry!” Y/N cries out as the burning knot inside her undoes and explodes. It's nothing like she's ever felt before, men never really seemed to know how to satisfy her, but Harry is all it takes for her to let go and forget about all the bad sex she ever had. She gasps loudly, riding out her orgasm as he keeps working her gently with his fingers and mouth. “Jesus fuck.”
Her legs fall to her sides. Harry comes up and wipes his mouth clean, chuckling at how Y/N is gasping for air. Her chest heaving as she does her best to try and breathe. “Good?” He hums and kisses her collarbone as he awaits a response.
“Too good.” She chokes out a laugh as soon as she can catch her breath again. She reaches down to caress his cheek, causing him to glance up. “Need a taste.” She huffs, as her hand goes down to his cock. Harry smirks and stops her. Gaining her attention with a quirked brow, indicating she doesn't understand.
“I desperately want to be inside of you, and I won't be able to last as long as I plan to if your puffy lips would work their magic on my cock right now.” He tells her bluntly, keeping his lust-filled gaze on her. And honestly, that might've just been the sexiest thing anyone has ever told her. She gives him a coy nod before he props himself up. He pushes his boxers down his legs and hovers over her.
Harry reaches for his nightstand to grab a condom while Y/N finally has her tiny fingers wrapped around Harry's erect and dripping cock. It's long and hard, the tip glistening and soft. Her hand runs down his shaft, paying close attention to the pattern of those prominent veins. His big hand reaches for her wrist.
“Hate to stop you, love, but you'll be the death of me.” Harry breathes as he slowly rolls the condom down his shaft. Y/N smiles adoringly, holding back laughter. Harry shakes his head amused, glad he brings that same childlike chuckle to Y/N's face that he used to adore when they were younger.
Then Y/N's face changes to surprise as Harry wraps his arms around her upper body to place her further on the bed, her head now resting on his soft pillows. Harry takes his position above her and cups her chin as he gently kisses her.
“Are you ready for me?” He asks. His cock now directly at her entrance, he holds it with his hand, teasing her.
“Yes, H. Please, yes.” She eagerly replies. So Harry presses a firm kiss on her mouth as he carefully pushes himself in. Just the tip before he pulls back again, teasing her incredibly slowly. Y/N groans in annoyance but lets him. Instead, she circles her arms around his neck and lets her fingertips draw nonsensical doodles on his scalp.
Her eyes shut when he finally thrusts himself forward, inserting his cock fully and feeling her pussy clenching around him. At first, he moves slowly, deliberately waiting for the satisfying burn to fade. His palms are pressed flat next to her shoulders as he secures his balance above her. She just can't keep her moans inside, not when he fucks her with all the love in the world.
“Fuck.” Harry grits, noticing how tight she is. Y/N keeps her eyes closed and lets him take control, simply doing what she feels is right, and that is responding to Harry's pace and needs. She finds solace in his sweet scent and she's sure she's addicted to it from now on.
As his hips rock, he slips his tongue into her mouth. Y/N's walls clench around him as his pace picks up. Her slick dripping out of her, coating their inner thighs as he slowly dips in and out.
“Give me your leg.” He says as he taps his fingers on her right thigh. Y/N obediently pulls her leg up and Harry positions himself a bit differently, the tip of his cock hammering against her cervix, reaching spots she didn't know could feel so good.
He places her leg on his shoulder and holds it in place with his arm wrapped around her knee. The newfound angle allows him to fuck her deeper and Harry can't hold himself back anymore. He slams into her, she moans in pleasure when he picks up the pace, making their sweaty bodies become one.
“G-goddamn, love.” He grunts, loving how they move as one. The muscles of his abdomen tense up under his skin with every hard thrust he delivers, he simply can't bear to slow down his movement. Harry continues to rut in and out, bringing both of them higher.
His left-hand reaches down, pressing down on her pubic bone for extra stimulation as his thumb finds her clit. Harry then knows he won't last long. Feeling her pussy already milking his cock, he knows she is close too.
Y/N squeezes her eyes shut, feeling the butterflies in her stomach building up again as Harry hits her G-spot every time he slams back into her.
“H-Harry- shit.” Y/N pants rapidly. She can feel how her juices are dripping from her and covering Harry's dick, definitely creating a wet spot underneath her bum on the duvet. She rolls her eyes back. She can't hold out for much longer.
“Nghh, yeah? Come for me, again, baby.” Harry groans as his pace starts to get sloppy. Y/N loves how his brows furrow and his jaw tightens up every time he pushes in.
“Aah- I'm-“ She starts and her walls clench around him, squeezing his hard cock inside her as she comes. The sensation is too much for Harry to bear. His hot liquid explodes into the rubber as her warm pussy milks him.
“Mmph.” Harry moans and with the last bit of power in his limp body, he slowly rocks back and forth to ride out their orgasms until they both collapse, tired and sweating messes.
“God, I can't believe that just happened.” Y/N puffs as they lie next to each other for a few moments. Harry hums, rolling to her side and pulling out of her in the process. Y/N catches his glance, seeing how his green eyes look like they shine even in the dark, love and affection radiating from them.
“I finally had sex with the girl of my dreams.” He murmurs, scooting a bit closer as Y/N feels him reach to her hand to twine their fingers together. She giggles at his sweetness before opening her mouth to speak.
“I now understand why you didn't want Charlie here today.” She remarks, earning a playful look from Harry. She brings her fingers up to brush the hair off his forehead. “I love you.” Y/N suddenly utters, surprising herself. “I mean it.”
“I love you too.” Harry says without a second thought before placing his wet lips on hers. It's not like they hadn't said I love you to each other when they were younger, but adult I love you's are different, stronger, more meaningful. Y/N grins, nudging her nose against his cheek and pecking his lips.
“We should do something about the stickiness, shouldn't we?” Harry says running his finger on the inside of her thigh. Y/N chuckles as she nods her head in agreement, slightly ashamed but just couldn't care less right now. She's happy, Harry's happy and that's all that matters.
Harry picks her up from the bed again, gaining another squeal as he carries her to the bathroom. They hop in the shower and their touches remain gentle. Just soft kisses and long glances. Once they're all washed up, they slide back between the sheets in an after-sex, shower-fresh bliss.
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#dadrry#harry styles#allthelovehes#harry#styles#harry smut#fanfic#smut#imagine#one shot#fanfiction#harrystylesfanfiction#harryxreader#harry x reader#harry styles x reader#harry x you#harryxyou#harry x yn#harryxyn#teacher#single dad#singledad!harry
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Tails talking in science-y language, being met with a blank stare or something of the like by Sonic, then sheepishly rephrasing it for him is something that'll never get old 😂
It's even funnier when you remember that technically the Tornado belongs to Sonic, and yet Tails knows it better 🤣
And it's been going on since the ole days
#sonic the hedgehog#sonic#sth#miles tails prower#sonic and tails#unbreakable bond#they're brothers your honor#wholesome sonic and tails wednesday#wstw#wsatw#when your little bro is a genius#and instead of you teaching him new words#you dont even know half his vocabulary#always love this dynamic of theirs#never gets old
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HELL BENT — RYOMEN SUKUNA
✧･ﾟ The Incubus King finally claims his intended.
( TW ) f!reader, incubus king!Sukuna, major size difference (Sukuna’s 8ft tall!), harem, group sex, fingering, cunnilingus, biting, rough sex, bleeding, forked tongues, cervix fucking, mating bonds, reader goes in some type of ‘heat’, explicit content.
word count - > 1.5k
author's note: PLS don’t take this seriously Idek what this is!! unedited + I'm trying a new writing style
Can’t stop thinking about Incubus king!Sukuna who finally finds his intended after centuries of looking. Who finds her in a place he never thought to check, the human realm. Who he kidnaps and brings down to his realm, telling you how you are to be his queen and rule his subjects alongside him. You have a mental breakdown your first week. The change of scenery, coming to terms that this is real, the differences between you and Sukuna’s species he calls Incubus. You’ve heard of them before, but you didn't think they were real—who did? They’re eight feet tall, winged creatures who liked to fuck 24/7. Half of them roam around naked and you can’t turn a hallway without catching two or more in sexual activities. So, hearing that you're some type of ‘mate’ to the king of the creatures? You think you’re dreaming. Sukuna brings you food every day and talks about how the mating bond has been activated now. How the several next week's you’re going to be restless until he ruts and claims you.
You scream and cry how this is his fault. He leans over the buffet of food and smacks your thigh with a grumble. You refuse to speak to him for the rest of the night even when he undresses and washes you. Making crude comments like how he can’t wait to breed your human body full of his offsprings. Sukana who doesn’t have the time for your refusal to talk to him for he has a kingdom to run, so he drops you off to a group of naked, pierced women who he calls his harem. He gently pushes you into one of the tall women before telling her to take care of you or else.
You can’t find it in your to be jealous of the women for being his ‘harem.’ You don’t even like Sukuna right now and the women, they’re so kind and mature that you would much rather spend your days lazing around with them than sitting on Sukuna’s lap while he laughs at his people who come to him with misfortunes. His harem teaches you all about their lands, how sex isn’t taboo instead something they need just like oxygen is to humans. How when they fuck, they release some type of energy that’s built up in their body that causes their kind to go insane and terrorize the human realm.
Sukuna’s harem who are utterly obsessed with how small you are compared to them. They used to spend their days lying around on rich cushions and blankets waiting for Sukuna but even they got bored of him—if it were up to them, they’d lock him in their room and never let him out. His harem who was supposed to be teaching you more about their king but instead chose to spend their days lazily eating you out with their long-forked tongues and fucking you dumb with their big fingers. They make you suckle their breasts and grind on their faces. They’re so gentle after, hissing at each other when one speaks too loudly after you had fallen asleep, washing your body clean, wrapping you in the softest blankets to carry you back over to your room with Sukuna. Some days they happen to catch Sukuna in his room, and they smirk and giggle when they see his jealous face. They take it as the highest compliment their queen has decided to lie with them before the king.
Incubus king!Sukuna who feels the mating bond grow stronger with every second you're in his castle. He feels himself shifting. He unable to stay away for long periods of time. He forces you to bathe with him before making you sit on his throne with him while he talks to irrelevant people, his hard cock jumping every time you move. You want to get away, moaning and grumbling how his you want to go play with his harem, it’s uncomfortable sitting on muscular thighs for hours while listening to him talk in several languages you don’t understand to people you don’t know. Sukuna who hisses and grumbles at you before going back to his subjects who kneel at the bottom of his obsidian throne.
Throughout the week you can’t help but get hornier and hornier until your unable to walk without liquids dripping down your thighs and wetting your skirts. Despite Sukuna's harem playing with you can’t help but plead and cry for him. You barely know the man but your body aches for him, for his cock, his bond. Sukuna who finally comes to see you one day. Who picks you up to set you up top of the cushions so you can watch him fuck his harem. He does everything he could think to the women, he wants to see what makes you twitch and ache and cry. By the time he’s done—hours later—you’re in a puddle of slick panting and crying how you want him. He doesn’t take you though, he can smell that you aren’t ready for him just yet, and he can’t risk injuring his mate who he’s searched for centuries. He won’t allow himself to bring you any harm, so he just holds you in his lap and makes his harem play with you until you pass out.
Sukuna whose balls deep in one of his women when he sniffs that air and smells the scent change in you. The women he’s fucking laughs when he yanks himself out of her and goes to you. He picks you up from the drenched cushion you're sitting on. You wrap your arms around his neck and sob and the feeling of his body. You try to wrap your legs around his huge frame but you’re too tired, so they just hang as he walks you back to your room, your thighs rubbing against his cock. Sukuna lays you down on the huge bed before ripping your silky dress and ding his head in between your legs. He brings you to several orgasm, but his mouth and forked tongue isn't what you want. You want his cock. You want him to fuck you pregnant while he bites you and claims you as his. You scream and kick and pull and at the pair of horns on top his head, but he just shushes you before going back to eating you out.
Sukuna finally deems you ready to take his cock but before he kisses and drags his teeth all over your body. He suckles at your breast, commenting on how you’ll be feeding him with said breasts soon. You cry out when he finally turns you ass up. You don’t even think about how much bigger he is than you, how his cock might not fit inside. Sukuna pushes your head into the blankets, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing it over your pussy. You scream at him, but he ignores you enjoying the sight of your pussy against his too big cock. When he finally pushes into you scream into the pillow. You scream for more, for him to slow down, for him to breed you, for him to fuck you harder, for him to stop and let you catch a break. He’s too out of it to listen. He never knew what it would feel like to claim a mate but this? If he had any doubt the little human underneath his wasn’t his, he didn’t now. He finally felt whole. He felt your essence flowing into him, making him stronger, more aware, if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel your emotions and hear your thoughts. He fucked your impossibly harder.
Sukuna leans down and whispers for you to open, and let him in. You don’t understand what he's talking about until his cock shoots some warm liquids and you feel your cervix open. It hurts so good when he pushes deeper into you. You orgasm again before he releases his seed into you. The tension leaves your body at the feeling of his seed rushing to your womb. You’re about to succumb to the sleepiness before Sukuna jolts you awake saying this is just the beginning.
#𐙚 ࣪ ˖ sugume writes#𐙚 ࣪ ˖ smut journal#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna scenarios#sukuna smut#sukuna x reader#sukuna#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu sukuna#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#gojo x reader#gojo smut#geto x reader#nanami x you#nanami smut
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with apologies to lewis carroll
The Walrus and her Fairy friend
Were strolling down the block;
They paused and then debated on
Which one of them should knock:
‘You know, this might be easier
If we just pick the lock!'
‘If I’m the one to do it
And they find me standing here,
Do you suppose,' the Walrus asked,
That they would shriek in fear?'
The Fairy said ‘I bet they would,’
And shed a bitter tear.
The Walrus and the Fairy then
Walked on a little more,
And came upon the house
That they’d identified before.
They flipped a coin to see which one
Would now approach the door.
‘O Tumblrina, let me in!'
The Walrus did beseech.
‘A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
For I have much to teach.’
(The sounds of this discussion
Were within the Fairy’s reach.)
The Tumblr user looked at him,
But never a word they said:
Too wowed by this new circumstance
To even shake their head.
‘Would you prefer,’ the Walrus sighed,
A Fairy’s knock instead?’
‘The time has come,' the Fairy said,
Accepting his new role,
‘We must admit this visit
Is in service of a goal.’
And then the two together cried,
‘We’re here to take a poll!’
#has anyone done this yet?#surely yes#it was getting stuck in my head every time i saw the poll discussed#so i couldn't resist#walrus vs fairy#fairy vs walrus#my posts
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gamer!bf sukuna drabble
·:*¨༺ nsfw mdni ༻¨*:·
gamer!bf sukuna who is always sat at his desk, shooting at something
gamer!bf sukuna who will lose track of time and play for hoursss, not even acknowledging your existence until you interrupt his game play with dinner
gamer!bf sukuna who buys you your own gaming set up after catching you playing on his computer when you think he isn't home (he positions your new monitor and gaming chair right next to his)
gamer!bf sukuna who laughs in your face when you ask if he wants to play minecraft with you (how dare you recommend something that isn't violent? silly little thing. do you even know him?)
"so childish... why the fuck would i play that?"
gamer!bf sukuna who feels bad after you pout at him for making fun of you, reluctantly agreeing to play fortnite (the tamest game he'll play)
gamer!bf sukuna who is never not yelling at someone through his headset
"you stupid fuck! ask your mother how my dick tastes"
gamer!bf sukuna who loves when you pull up a chair to watch him play
gamer!bf sukuna who let's you sit in his lap, the controller in your hands with his hands over yours, pushing the buttons for you... the elated grin on your face when you finally kill someone makes his dick hard
"baby! i did it! i got him!"
"that's my good girl, now let me reward you"
gamer!bf sukuna who loves that you play animal crossing at your desk next to him while he plays cs:go and valorant, you eventually put on your noise canceling headphones because he won't stop screaming
"what the actual FUCK was that? you're trash. GET OUT OF MY LOBBY"
gamer!bf sukuna who finally agrees to play minecraft with you after weeks of begging, enjoying it more than he thought he would (the face you make when he finally says yes causes his heart flutter just a little bit... but he'll never tell you that, constantly groaning at how boring it is, but playing it with you for three hours)
he runs around killing creepers and skeletons to quell his homicidal ideations instead of helping you build a house
"why the hell would we build a fake house when we're literally sitting in our real one?"
so fucking sassy for no reason
he'd run around collecting a mob of enemies instead, luring them into a pit before sealing it off and dumping a bucket of lava on them, laughing as they slowly burn to death...bro is insane i stg...
gamer!bf sukuna who let's you wear his headset while he plays a 1v1 in a custom lobby, laughing at his opponents obvious anger and frustration thinking they're losing to you (COD is so misogynistic, and sukuna is thoroughly amused when he gets to put them in their place on your behalf)
gamer!bf sukuna who beams with pride when you start picking up on gaming terms
"that guy sucks, he's just camping", you say, brows furrowed in annoyance.
"who the fuck did you learn that word from?"
"who do you think i learned it from, dumbass?" you retort, a taunting smile on your lips.
he just grins, "god, you're so fuckin' sexy. but drop the attitude before i fuck it outta you."
gamer!bf sukuna who attempts to teach you how to play call of duty, battlefield, and cs:go
"you'll get better, doll. just keep tryin'"
gamer!bf sukuna who refuses to admit that he actually enjoys playing minecraft with you, hoping you'll suggest to play it first
gamer!bf sukuna who looks down from his monitor to see you kneeling under his desk, head between his legs, sucking him off while he's on discord talking to his friends; tangling his hands in your hair, biting the inside of his cheek when you deepthroat him unexpectedly, his hips bucking off his chair. "you dirty fuckin' girl, it's like you want them to hear" he moans out. his friends erupt in laughter after hearing him, but he doesn't want you to stop. exhibitionist!sukuna has entered the chat
"you can stay and listen if you want, at least im gettin' some unlike you virgins"
gamer!bf sukuna who fucks you rough when he loses a game
"god you're so fuckin' tight for me" he groans, his grip tight on your hips. he looks down to watch your pretty pussy suck him in. you squirm, his cock burying itself deeper and deeper inside you with every trust, whining as he pushes your head into the mattress, his strokes unrelenting.
"uh uh. don't move...stay right fuckin' there n take this dick, brat."
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
author notes: hehehe...this was super fun to write. if you have any requests, send them here! if u wanna be added to my anon club, drop an emoji with ur submission and ill add u to my pinned post ☺︎
i've already written longer, smut-filled stories of gamer!bf sukuna,,u can read them here and here and here
thank u liking, commenting, and reblogging...it makes me kick my feet n giggle when i get the notification ♡
© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen writing#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fanfic#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryomen smut#jujustu kaisen smut#sukuna smut#jjk smut#jjk oneshot#jjk x reader#sukuna oneshot#bratbby333
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I JUMPED WHEN I SAW REQUESTS OPEN
zuko unintentionally saying something he doesn’t mean to reader (ex. ur clingy/annoying) and makes the reader like kinda distant cus they don’t wanna be annoying or clingy yk? then he comforts them and says sorry and it’s very much a angst to fluff moment!
a/n: i love this trope
summary: your sudden disappearance makes zuko reevaluate his behavior
The apartment is empty when Zuko returns from the tea shop. His bones ache from standing all day and his mood is sour from having to serve customers, but it doesn’t distract him from the fact that something is missing. The place feels dull and lacks its normal warmth, and the change unnerves him.
“It seems y/n has not yet returned home,” Iroh observes as he flicks on the lamps to rid the room of darkness.
“Where did she go?” Zuko murmurs, doing his best to mask his anxiety over your absence. It’s not like you to stay out late, especially considering your apartment isn’t exactly in one of the safer rings of Ba Sing Se, and it worries him.
“I’m not sure. She seemed to be in a hurry when she left this morning,” the older man recounts as he scans the room to look for any trace of her left behind. “She didn’t even have her morning tea!”
“She could be in danger. I’m going to search for her.”
“Would you like me to come with you?”
“No, one of us should stay here in case she comes back,” Zuko states before making his way out the door. “I don’t want her to come home to any empty apartment.”
“Be sure to watch your temper if you do find her, nephew. Y/n is struggling to adjust to this new life just as you are, and it is important you are patient with her.”
The Prince says nothing in response to his Uncle’s words, but he immediately feels the guilt and shame that they bring him. His warning serves as a reminder for his recent behavior, and Zuko is then able to figure out why you were nowhere to be found.
You’d been eating breakfast together that morning before he had to leave for work, and despite his irritable mood you seemed to be eager to start the day.
“I was thinking of visiting the market place to buy fresh groceries for dinner tonight. Maybe I could stop by the tea shop and bring lunch for you and your Uncle,” you suggested with a pleasant smile.
“Sure,” Zuko had grumbled in response before forcing another spoonful of bland porridge down his throat.
“And after dinner we can visit the fountain,” you had said with an excited smile. “I’d love to take a walk through the city and get some fresh air. We hardly ever leave the apartment.”
“This city is nothing but dirt. There’s nothing to see out there.”
“Oh,” you had murmured, your features deflating slightly at his negative comments. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe we can just stay in and play a game of pai sho instead. I’m not exactly sure how to play, but I bet you could teach me! It could be fun!”
“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself speak?!” Zuko had finally snapped harshly, his patience finally having been worn thin by your ceaseless suggestions. He didn’t want to take a stroll or play pai sho or have any sort of fun, and he didn’t understand why you couldn’t get that. “This isn’t some little vacation. I failed to capture the Avatar and now we’re stuck here, do you understand? Go play pai sho with someone else.”
The room had grown deathly silent after Zuko’s outburst, and he was too annoyed to notice the way you kept your gaze glued firmly to the table to avoid him see the welling tears in your eyes. Without another word, you quietly excused yourself from the table and made your way out the door without an explanation or a goodbye. Zuko hadn’t seen you since.
“I’m such a jerk,” he curses himself as he roams the streets in search of you. You’re not in the market place and you’re not by the fountain, so where could you be? He’s beginning to worry, his mind conjuring up multiple scenarios where you’re in trouble and he can’t help you. It’s pure torture.
A familiar laugh floats through the air, and Zuko feels the hairs on his neck stand up at the soothing melody. He’s quick to follow the sound, and as he shoves his way through the crowded streets he finds himself coming to a stop at a small noodle shop. The shop is practically tucked into a corner and isn’t much to look at, but the inside is full of life as patrons eat and converse and enjoy the camaraderie. At the heart of the restaurant sits a table full of people focused on the game of pai sho before them, and at the center of the table you sit with a large grin and a white lotus tile in your hand.
“I can’t believe I won!” You exclaim with an excited clap of your hands before looking to the older woman sitting next to you. “Thank you so much for teaching me how to play. This is the most fun I’ve had in months!”
“Y/n?” Zuko calls, garnering the attention of you and your new friends at the table. The airy laughter and pleasantries die down at the sight of him and the room is suddenly filled with tension.
“Oh, hello, Lee,” you greet dully, your cheerful demeanor immediately disappearing when you make eye contact with the boy.
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home?”
“You said to go play pai sho with someone else, so that’s what I’m doing,” you state bluntly, and Zuko looks away guiltily after hearing his own words repeated back to him.
“Can you please just come home? You shouldn’t be out on the streets this late, it’s dangerous.”
“Why do you care?” You retort harshly. “I’m having fun here. These people actually want my company.”
“Y/n,” Zuko says with an irritated sigh, doing his best to remain patient. “Please. If not for me then for Uncle. He’s just as worried for your safety as I am.”
You hesitate at his words, but after a moment of contemplating you finally excuse yourself from the table. You bid your new friends goodbye and promise to return for another game sometime before following Zuko out of the restaurant and beginning your walk back home.
“The moon is out tonight,” he notes quietly in an attempt to make small talk, but you don’t reply. You keep your gaze forward and maintain a respectable distance from him as you walk. “Maybe I was wrong about this place.”
“Congratulations for figuring that out,” you retort sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. Having finally had enough, Zuko grabs your wrist to stop you in your tracks and force you to look at him.
“Y/n, please talk to me,” he begs earnestly. “I feel horrible for what I’ve done.”
“Good, you should feel bad!” You exclaim angrily, harshly yanking your hand away from him. “You’ve been nothing but a jerk since we got to Ba Sing Se, and now that I’m finally giving you the space that you wanted you come and ruin my fun!”
“I don’t want space from you,” he insists desperately. “I was being an idiot! Y/n, I didn’t mean any of what I said. I was just feeling irritable and I took it out on you, but that isn’t fair of me.”
“I’m not going to be your punching bag for the rest of my life, Zuko,” you relent quietly, blinking back the tears that begin to form. “All I want is to start over, but you’re making it so difficult. Why did we even come here?”
“We came here because I realized you deserved better than to constantly live your life on the run,” he admits softly, carefully taking your hands in his own. “I know I’ve failed to make you happy or treat you the way you deserve, but you have to know that I care for you. The best part of my day is coming home to you after work, and I never want you to feel like a burden because you aren’t.”
“Thank you for saying that,” you sniffle with a meek smile, and when he pulls you into his arms for a hug you don’t protest. “I know this has been hard for you, but you have to understand that all I want is to support you and make the change as easy as possible for you.”
“I know, and I’ll forever be grateful for everything you do,” Zuko says before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Now let’s get home before Uncle begins to worry.”
You say nothing more as he puts a protective arm around you and guides you through the streets of Ba Sing Se. The move has been tough, but he swears then that he’s going to do his best to improve his attitude and give you the support you need.
He has a lot of making up to do.
| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy
| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303
#melzula writes#request#zuko#zuko x reader#zuko imagine#prince zuko#prince zuko x reader#prince zuko imagine#atla#atla x reader#atla imagine#avatar the last airbender
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ i’m afraid that’s just the way the world works (but i think that it could work for you and me)
synopsis. suguru stumbles across two girls that need a home. somehow, one step at a time, you both find yourselves navigating parenthood
word count. 5.4k (sigh...this was supposed to be a drabble)
contents. not canon compliant at all—there are still curses, but it's literally an au where everything turns out happy LMAO, teacher! suguru, husband! suguru, fem! reader, reader is referred to as "wife" and "mommy," hints at child neglect/abuse (nanako and mimiko's backstory), yuji, nobara and megumi are the ones that save nanako and mimiko—the timeline is inaccurate bc the twins are still kids when megumi and co. are teens, single dad! satoru who raised megs and tsumiki (tsumiki is ALIVE and NOT CURSED) <3, it's just fluff tbh, it's overall healing and happy i promise
notes. yeah i am telling u i literally shoved every fix-it fic idea for jjk into one fic okay and u will all nod along and agree with it. this was supposed to be a drabble but i literally just could not shut up so now its a fic
“there are these two girls,” suguru says quietly at dinner one night, pulling you from the comfortable silence. you look up as you swallow, eyeing him as you nod carefully—nothing is ever a normal conversation when your husband is a jujutsu teacher. nothing is ever a normal conversation when you’re capable of jujutsu in general, you’ve learned that well by now.
“okay…” you say slowly, “and are they your students?”
they must be new, if they are. you know all of suguru’s students; you know them well enough to pick birthday presents and bring what they each like from the bakery. you don’t think you know of these two—they must be new.
“no,” he breathes, “no, they’re too young for that. maybe someday,” he adds hopefully.
“maybe someday,” you agree thoughtfully.
suguru loves teaching. it’s not something he ever saw himself doing—but life is dark at one point, a constant cloud looming over his head as it screams it’s over! your youth is over.
sometimes it hits him all at once—no one was there to protect suguru’s youth, no one was there for satoru’s or nanami’s, and certainly not haibara’s. no one was there to make sure they could be kids, that the sun could still shine and chase the clouds away.
so suguru becomes a teacher. he’s fond of the kids—and they like him too. geto sensei, they call, geto sensei, look! and then he pauses in the hall, holds back an amused chuckle before turning to face an overly enthusiastic yuji and nobara. megumi is not far behind, that disgruntled look on his face as always, but if you look closely, his eyes are soft and laced with something close to fondness.
geto sensei is a favorite—much more of a favorite than gojo sensei is, to satoru’s utter dismay. you can’t help but watch proudly sometimes, can’t help but watch how much suguru has grown as he interacts with those kids, how much he’s allowed himself to grow, how much he’s let himself try to chase the sun instead of letting the clouds convince him the light no longer exists.
“they’re five,” suguru continues, poking the soba in front of him as he doesn’t meet your gaze. “the kids found them on a mission. in a cage.”
you know what that means instantly. you look at suguru, watching as his eyes stare numbly at the food in front of him—sometimes, you worry that suguru will once more fall victim to those bone-chilling thoughts he shares with you one night. sometimes you worry he’ll slip and fall once more and you won’t notice this time, won’t reach your fingers and grasp him at the last second.
but he blinks, looks up and meets your eyes this time, stares into them and searches them for what he needs. he finds it, you think, because there’s light returning to them once more.
maybe it’s hope, maybe it’s acceptance. maybe it’s neither, and he’s just happy to have you to come back to when the world gets too burdensome. you’re not sure, but you do know you’ll always be there, right where he needs you.
“what happened to them?” you ask gently, “was it their parents?”
“no,” he shakes his head, “the villagers. their parents are dead.”
it’s not new—you’ve seen it before too. children tend to notice their techniques at this age. it’s not new to hear about children with no family history of sorcerers being labeled as some type of other in the family, in the community, or in the village.
suguru is lucky in that way—his mother and father see him as something special, something worth celebrating, something greater than they could ever hope to be. you meet them once every year, just for a few days. they love you, greeting you with kind smiles and warm hugs, pulling you inside as they get dinner ready. you visit his old room and smile as you rake your fingers over the figures on his desk and the cd’s he used to collect. his mother keeps his room in perfect condition, even after all these years.
you remind him to call more. sometimes, he tries—just for you, he tries. it’s hard for him, you realize. sometimes suguru is guilty; sometimes, he’s haunted by what he almost did but thankfully didn’t. it’s hard to face his parents ever since, even if they’re blissfully unaware. it’s easier to love them from afar, he thinks. but you insist he calls more, so he does. sometimes hearing his mother’s voice is what he needs, even if he doesn’t like to admit it.
“so…what’ll happen to them?” you ask quietly.
“they’re at the school for tonight,” he mumbles, “there’s enough bedrooms, anyway. but…”
but they can’t stay there forever, is what he wants to say, you know that. staying at jujutsu high is hardly enough for children so young. they need a proper home, a proper family. you can’t help but stare down at your own bowl of soba. it’s hard to watch children suffer like this. it’s especially hard on suguru—he chose to teach to help those kids, to be there. somethings, however, cannot be fixed by simply being there.
“and then what will happen after?”
“they need a home,” he says quietly, “and…listen, i know we never really…we’ve never discussed something like this. but…maybe for a while, just until something better is decided, we could…”
you know what he’s trying to say before he can even say it—you and suguru have never discussed children. you don’t think you ever really want to, and you’re fairly certain he feels the same. it’s hard to lose haibara when you’re just a young kid, hard to live with the fact that someone so young and hopeful about the world is here one second and then gone the next. you see nanami sometimes—he’s kind to you, greets you politely, and asks how you are. but nothing about him has ever been the same since that day.
will your children meet the same fate? will you have them one second and lose them the next? will you patiently wait for them to come to visit the next chance they get from school, only to get a phone call no parent deserves to hear? they’re common in the jujutsu world. it’s a risk every parent has to take. some are selfish—rightfully so. some don’t care to let their children master their techniques, arguing it’s better to have a child that’s incapable and alive than gifted and dead. what if your children end up like nanami? the one who manages to live but can never accept the fact, not when someone else is dead. how will you be a pillar of strength? how can you tell them it’s okay to live as long as it’s not them who’s dead? how can you help them grieve when you are always grieving yourself?
you don’t think you ever want children, and you think you’re right in your assumption that suguru agrees.
but those girls need a home, and you know the look on suguru’s face means options are limited—scarily so. you look at him for a while, look at him and see the way he’s got his heart set on these two girls—suguru has lost more than you ever could, and if this is something he thinks he should do, you think it might be worth a chance.
“bring them for dinner tomorrow,” you say finally, bringing soba to your lips, “i’d like to meet them.”
it’s not a straight answer, but it’s a start. suguru nods, smiling gently at you before he continues with his own dinner. it’s silent after that, but it’s not uncomfortable. he still steals your last bite of soba at the end, and you still roll your eyes and let him. you wash the dishes together after that, argue over whose turn it is to rinse and whose turn it is to dry—it’s routine, and you’re grateful you have something to look forward to in this cruel world, something you can count on regularly.
—————
hasaba nanako and hasaba mimiko.
those are their names. megumi says so when he first brings them to suguru. nanako is blonde, a bit bolder than mimiko, who’s brunette. nanako is older by five minutes, and she likes to remind everyone when she can. mimiko holds nanako’s hand when she’s nervous, and nanako squeezes tightly with a smile. they’re a mellow pair, despite it all. a little distrusting and a little nervous when too many people are in a room at once.
they take a liking to suguru, however. satoru is a bit too loud and boisterous for them, but suguru is kind and soft and gives them gentle head pats when they cooperate and answer his questions. on the way home, he asks them if they’d like something from the bakery.
it leaves them a bit quiet, right until he looks over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow as he awaits their answer.
“we’ve never been to one,” nanako answers quietly, the first to speak between the two, as always.
“is that so?” suguru asks gently. they nod, still holding hands.
children of five summers, and they have never picked out a cake for even a birthday—he wonders why that is. they shouldn't have shown signs of having cursed techniques so young, there should be no reason to mistreat them so early on—the conclusion he comes to makes him even unhappier. parents should never have children if they aren’t willing to love them, he thinks bitterly.
“it’s alright,” mimiko says finally, “we don’t need—”
“come on then,” suguru grabs nanako’s free hand, gently pulling them both along the busy streets of tokyo, “my wife’s favorite bakery is around the corner. we’ve tried everything they have by now, so you’ll have to tell us what’s your favorite, yeah?”
it’s nanako who answers again first, nodding slowly before she smiles hopefully. “okay,” she murmurs.
from the corner of his eyes, suguru notices mimiko gently pull her hand from her sister’s, quickly taking a few steps as she walks across in front of him before promptly finding herself on his other side. her hand reaches for his—it’s slow, a bit unsure, so he grabs it delicately, giving a small squeeze as he grins down at her.
“wait until you try the strawberry cake,” he hums, “that’s my favorite.”
—————
suguru comes home with two small girls on either side of him and more bags than you can count from the bakery just five minutes from your apartment. you blink before rushing over and taking a few bags from his hands.
“did you just buy one of everything or something?” you ask incredulously, staring at all the boxes of goods within the bags.
he grins that closed-eye smile of his, crinkles forming in the corners as he says, “well, of course,” like it’s the most normal thing ever to buy one of every item in a large bakery in the heart of tokyo. “the girls have never been to a bakery before so i thought we could let them try everything and rank them.”
you look down at the girls, who stare at you nervously as they cling to each other. instantly, as soon as you meet their eyes, you can’t help but drop down to your knees to meet their level as you smile softly.
“why hello there,” you murmur, ruffling each head gently. they like that—suguru texted you that earlier, that they seem to brighten considerably when he offers them a gentle pat on the head in affection. “what are your names?”
“i’m nanako,” the blonde one answers instantly—suguru is equal parts shocked and equal parts pleased by her new air of confidence. he wonders if she’d be a bright and energetic child right about now, if the world hadn’t crushed her under and forced her to live meekly. “and i’m older by five minutes.”
“hello nanako, the eldest by five minutes,” you answer seriously, nodding as though it’s a crucial fact to her identity, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. and what about you?”
the brunette clutches her sister’s hand a little tighter—but nanako seems to have deemed you as safe. anyone geto sensei (as the other kids seem to call him) trusts is someone they don’t have to be on guard around. she nudges mimiko gently, encouraging her to tell you her name.
“i’m mimiko,” she says quietly. she seems to be holding a small, pink stuffed toy. it’s seen better days, you think, but a nice wash and a few stitches to the top of its head should have it looking quite a lot better.
“and hello to you too, mimiko,” you smile, “are you younger by five minutes, then?”
she giggles a little at that before nodding, “i am,” she assures, “but i’m smarter.”
“are not!” nanako says instantly, gasping. you and suguru share a look, amused and fond and relieved all at once.
“what a lovely toy,” you murmur, tracing the eyes with your finger. she droops a little at that—like being reminded of its condition is something that breaks her spirit.
“it’s ripped,” she mumbles, “it wasn’t before.”
“i can fix it,” you offer, “suguru is always ripping his uniforms, but lucky for him, his sweet little wife here is a fixer-upper.”
“really?” she brightens. you nod, chuckling as you ruffle her hair, doing the same to nanako, too, when she eyes you hopefully from the side.
“that sounds great,” suguru interrupts, “but i believe i have cakes that need to be tried and mouths that are not trying.”
you rise, rolling your eyes and standing next to him, and his hand gently grabs yours. thank you, he squeezes. always, you squeeze back.
“well, come on, girls,” you usher. mimiko grabs your free hand, and suguru grabs nanako’s—you all make your way to the dinner table. it feels oddly natural, you think. “we have desserts to try. the chocolate one will definitely be your favorite, i can feel it.”
“it’ll be strawberry,” suguru says confidently.
you meet his gaze, grinning at him as he stares at you hopelessly in love. it’s always been enough, you and suguru—it’s always been more than enough with just the two of you. so enough, that you never wanted more. but this is nice too, you think. this is something you could get used to, even if it breaks the routine you’ve learned to love just a bit.
—————
nanako and mimiko stay at your house that night, and somehow, that turns into a week. sometimes, suguru takes them with him to school, just to handle a few things that are still to be taken care of regarding their case. you find you miss three instead of one while you’re home alone for the day.
they return cheery each time, bags of deserts in hand and a newfound glow in their eyes. mimiko’s toy is much cleaner now, and the small rips have been carefully sewn shut by you from the first night they spend. she clutches it everywhere she goes, hugs it in her sleep too. it’s hopelessly endearing.
nanako takes a liking to suguru’s phone—he’s a bit too giving with her, you think. she’s managed to figure out his passcode rather quickly, and he lets her get away with it, watching her small fingers work the buttons of whatever game she's downloaded with a gentle look of affection over his features.
on the days that suguru goes to school alone, the girls are left in your care for the day—you don’t usually have someone to keep you company while you’re at home. you’ve quit being a sorcerer long ago, deciding that it’s not worth the constant back-and-forth tug of war with life and death.
perhaps it's selfish—people are dying every day, and you sit and let it happen, but you can’t help it. it’s too much, sometimes. suguru has always supported it, though, has always murmured that you’re doing the right thing and that sorcerers deserve quiet, peaceful lives, too, if they wish. so you do just that, stay home and learn a new dish or two through the day, watch a few shitty sitcoms on the television, leave and do some grocery shopping for the week, and return home to your quiet little apartment (as quiet as an apartment can get in tokyo, that is) and wait for your husband to come home.
suguru comes home by seven pm every day and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead as he says, hello, wife, to which you giggle and murmur, hi there, husband. you have dinner after that and share details about your days with each other. yuji and nobara are arguing again, suguru will tell you sometimes, i think nobara will cave and talk first this time, though. i brought fresh strawberries from the season’s harvest, you murmur behind a glass of water to your lips, got them just for you, sugu.
it’s been a routine like that ever since your marriage. you marry suguru quietly when you barely turn twenty, just a room full of the few people you dare let yourself love and the two of you as you sign the papers and share a kiss. there’s an extravagant meal waiting for you after, though, courtesy of gojo satoru, a man with more money than he could hope to use on himself. satoru is happy that day—happier than you’ve ever seen him in a long, long while. he takes his bandages off, sits and watches everything, and takes it all in even if it’ll bite him back in the ass later with a long, pounding migraine.
today, however, is a saturday—school is out, and anyone who doesn’t have a mission is free to have the day to themselves. suguru hasn’t taken a large mission in ages, years, even. he accepts small ones here and there, and if it really calls for it, he joins a tough one with his students—but it’s for their sake more than anything. but the big ones are too much for him to handle regularly anymore. the higher-ups aren’t happy—special-grade sorcerers are hard to come by, and it’s unfair that the lower-grade ones are busting their necks out there more than he is. but suguru deserves a semblance of control over his well-being, and with satoru on his side, there isn’t much of anything the higher-ups can really do.
he sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone as you click the remote, finding something to watch.
“you know, we should really talk about this,” suguru mumbles from the side. it’s early, still. barely eight am, and the girls are still sleeping. they’ll be up soon—and with that, will be gone any moment for you and suguru to share a private moment.
they didn’t warn you about that part of kids—you knew it was a busy job, watching over them, but you figured leaving them to play for a bit would grant you some peace. you and suguru quickly learn that children, no matter how well-behaved and disciplined, always need a watchful eye on them.
“talk about what?” you yawn, “it’s too early for you to speak in codes.”
“the girls,” he says, unimpressed. oh. right.
“what about them?” you say, dancing around the edge of the real issue. he sees right through you—you know he will. still, you’re petulant enough to try and dodge the topic anyway.
“it’s been a week,” he says seriously, “those kids think this is their new home. it’s cruel to make them think that any longer if we don’t…”
keep them. let them stay. let them become a part of this home and, by extension, this family that has always just been you and suguru. raise them. take them in. take responsibility over them. love them.
can you love? like that, at least? are you meant to be a mother? you’re too selfish, you think—you couldn’t even stay fighting curses for long, too weak to care about those who need you, and too focused on needing yourself. can you handle two children? if you do this, you can’t do anything else but do it right—it’s what they deserve. but you don’t know if you can give them what they deserve.
but there aren’t many better options either, you remind yourself.
suguru seems to know what you’re thinking because he murmurs, “i think it’s easier to raise children than be a sorcerer,” he says quietly.
you raise an eyebrow skeptically. “you can walk away from being a sorcerer, suguru. being a parent is for life.”
“being a parent means you get to love,” he reasons, “unconditionally. without regrets. without a contract, you know? loving a sorcerer is just betting how long someone has left to live, at the end of the day.”
“how morbid of you,” you snort.
“they’re good kids,” he says quietly, “great, even.”
“they’re lovely,” you agree. and then, quieter this time, “i…i would miss them. more than i care to admit.”
“me too,” he nods.
your head falls to his chest, and he presses a kiss to your head, wrapping his arms around you. suguru has always loved you—when the world was not worth loving, and the people were not worth saving, suguru had loved you. he still does. and the way you love him is enough to make all of those things change. the world has a little more hope, and the people are a little less ugly when you’re there to prove not everything is bad. that even where the bad exists, the good can follow. as long as he has you, suguru is complete—but he thinks more is not always so bad.
“suguru?” you ask gently. he hums, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he squeezes your hand, “we won’t force them,” you say firmly, “to do anything. they should exist as themselves if they want to. cursed techniques or not.”
he smiles. you don’t see it, and you don’t have to. you know it’s that deep, eye-crinkling smile that’s heartfelt and real.
“no, we won’t force them,” he agrees, “they’re perfect as is.”
—————
the girls are given the option to each get the two spare rooms you and suguru have in your apartment. that leaves ultimately no guest room, but you think they deserve to have their own space and be their own people after everything. but, as you and he had expected, they choose to share a room and stay together.
you’ll never forget the looks on their faces when they realize they’re staying here permanently, the look of pure excitement and the slightest hints of shock—you never realized how fulfilling it could be to make two children smile like that.
“we can’t paint the walls,” you hum, “we don’t own this place. but we can still decorate,” you offer.
they don’t seem all that disappointed about not being able to paint their walls—instead, they’re too excited about their beds, giggling as they jump on the mattress. suguru wants to tell them that jumping on mattresses is bad for the springs, but you stop him—they deserve to be kids for a bit. after that, you’ll teach them. but for now, they deserve to just be kids.
“can we get lights?” nanako asks—now that you and suguru are guardians to two children (parents seems…a bit too overwhelming to use right now), spontaneous dates don’t happen one on one anymore. evidently, it’s hard to find babysitters on the spot, and leaving them home alone is not an option, so you decide to simply bring them along on your weekly sunday afternoon cafe visit. nanako takes a liking to the lights on the walls, and mimiko eats three slices of cake.
you can’t wait to bring them next week, too.
“you sure can,” suguru hums, chuckling.
“and a mirror?”
“of course,” you nod, “you’ll certainly need one to make sure the beauty sleep works.”
nanako giggles, flopping onto the bed, and mimiko sits not long after, still hugging that toy to her chest as she looks around the room in wonder. they’ve been sleeping in it for over a week now, but now that they can officially call it their own, they seem to be much more attached.
“i want pink sheets,” nanako hums.
“i want blue,” mimiko mumbles, looking at you shyly.
“well,” suguru murmurs so that only you can hear, “maybe we can get them two beds. smaller one—they’ll fit on either side.”
“and what do we do with this one, then?” you raise a brow.
“we…sell it?”
“suguru, are you trying to drain every last bit of our savings?”
“we have plenty,” he chuckles, “we don’t ever do anything.”
that much is true—you and suguru hardly leave tokyo let alone japan, and though you let yourselves splurge on nice things, there isn’t much to spend on between two people. but the last few days have really put into perspective how…expensive raising children can be. clothing and school supplies (they’ll attend a normal school) and room decor and snacks, and anything else children require to be children is quite denting to bank accounts.
but you and suguru can’t say you mind—and if nanako and mimiko want pink and blue sheets, well…you think you can make that happen.
“i think we’re spoiling them,” you mumble, “should we be doing that?”
he wraps an arm around you and pulls you against his chest as his nose presses to the top of your head when he kisses it. he’s warm, just like he always is—maybe warmer now, in fact.
“nah,” he grins, “i think we’re doing great.”
—————
the girls take their time to warm up to satoru, but when they finally do, he seems to be a favorite. satoru is very proud of this fact—he’s not a lot of children’s favorite…well, maybe yuji’s perhaps, but you don’t think yuji has a single bone in his body that could really dislike anyone. or rank them, to be quite honest—you don’t think he prefers satoru or suguru over the other.
“oh, kids,” satoru calls, stepping into your apartment and letting himself in. you and suguru are in the middle of making dinner, looking back in shock from the kitchen as satoru waves enthusiastically at you both.
“satoru, how did you even get in?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. he grins, practically giggling as he points to your husband.
“suguru gave me a key.”
“what?” suguru sputters, “no, i didn’t!”
“you let me borrow them,” satoru concedes—that’s still not even anywhere near the truth.
“i left them at your place and kindly asked you to bring them to me at work the next day,” suguru corrects, crossing his arms and looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“yes, and i did what you should have done a long time ago and made myself a copy,” satoru huffs, “i’m the best friend! i deserve a key—”
“gojo sensei!” the girls call.
as most kids do, they pick up what they hear around them. everyone seems to refer to satoru and suguru as gojo sensei and geto sensei. they’re not students, but nanako and mimiko both pick up on the habit too—and it’s helplessly adorable, you can’t deny.
sometimes, you want to correct them, but they seem excited to see satoru, so you let the moment pass.
“there they are!” satoru beams, taking his blindfold off and crouching down to meet them in the eye—nanako and mimiko seem to find satoru infinitely more approachable when his eyes are out and easy to look into. you can’t imagine why—he looks like a creep. “i brought dessert! because what’s life without something sweet, right? are these two feeding you girls the sugar you need to grow into tall, healthy young women?”
“this is why you should never be allowed near children,” you say flatly.
satoru looks at you with a pointed look, “i practically raised megumi and tsumiki, y’know. saving young siblings and giving them a nice home life is old news, i already did that. be more original, please.”
what a jackass—you scowl at him, throwing the wooden spoon in your hand at his head and watching as it doesn’t even touch him and falls to the floor. curse his infinity.
“okay, now,” suguru chuckles, “i don’t want to spend the evening looking after four children instead of two—”
“geto sensei! thanks for having us over for dinner,” yuji interrupts, stepping through the door that satoru took such great care not to close, “fushiguro was a bit of a hassle to convince, though.”
suguru throws a sharp glare at satoru as soon as three of their students step into your home—you’re going to have to forget the dinner you’re making and order takeout, you think. satoru will pay.
“this is why you didn’t get a key,” suguru hisses, “because then you act like you own the place.”
“i wanted a family gathering,” satoru gasps, “tsumiki is coming too! wait for her.”
despite the way suguru grabs satoru’s hair—and satoru, for some reason, turns off his infinity and lets him—you notice the corners of your husband’s mouth twitching into a gentle smile, and you know he’s thinking the same thing as you. family—nanako and mimiko are here, and so are yuji, and nobara, and megumi, and satoru (the biggest headache), and soon, tsumiki too.
family—yes, this is family, you think.
—————
“daddy, i’m hungry,” mimiko tugs on suguru’s sleeve.
“i know, pumpkin, just give me a second and—”
“daddy, look! i beat the high score on my game and—”
“daddy is looking, sweetie, just give me one minute, nanako, yeah? daddy will look and—”
“wow,” satoru chuckles, grinning amused, “you’re really worn thin.”
“satoru,” suguru grumbles, “if you’re not going to help, then please leave.”
nanako and mimiko are seven now. in two years, their personalities have really blossomed—something which you and suguru are very grateful for. the world should not crush children so young that they don’t get to be the children they are meant to be. you and suguru take great care to make sure they know they can be kids.
and they are—they whine about bedtime and pick at their vegetables and point at everything in the store and plead for something new. they’re children—your children, and you can’t help but love them unconditionally so.
“well, welcome to fatherhood,” suguru snaps, trying his best to make lunch and entertain the two girls waiting for his attention.
suguru is a good father—a gentle one, in fact. he comes home every day from work and grins, asking in that smooth voice of his, where are my ladies? and just like that, you and your two girls meet him with excited grins. you peck his lips before he crouches down and pulls two small bodies against his chest, letting their tiny arms wrap around his neck as he hoists them up.
it’s a perfect little routine, one you cherish greatly. but the girls are getting older, and soon, they’ll be too heavy to carry like this. it makes you a little sad to think about—but if there’s one thing you’ve learned, breaking routine isn’t always so bad. soon there will be a new one, and when you outgrow that, another new one, and so on.
what won’t ever change is the way you love suguru, and he loves you, and you both love your daughters, and they love you both too.
“daddy,” nanako calls, “where’s mommy?”
“at the store, nanako,” he says patiently, sighing. this is the fifth time she’s asked.
“when will she be back?”
“soon, nanako,” he smiles assuringly, “at least, i hope so,” he adds quietly, under his breath.
satoru hears, though—and he cackles, heinously loud, too, as he watches the scene unfold in amusement. but satoru is suguru’s best friend, and yours too. and the girls love him. he’s family—and so are their students.
it’s nice, suguru thinks, it’s nice to have something worth smiling for.
“i’m home!” you call, “is satoru here? because the door was unlocked—”
“mommy!” the girls call, cutting you off with the pitter-patter of small, excited little feet hitting the ground and greeting you.
“why hello,” you gasp excitedly, laughing as they tackle you in a hug.
you and suguru share a smile as he looks back—family, it’s what you’ve both built here. it’s slow at first, and sometimes it wasn’t easy. at one point, it was just the two of you, just you and suguru, and that was okay. you didn’t think you would ever be capable of letting it be more—but it’s nice when it grows, you think. maybe one day, you can dare to hope to grow it some more.
the scene were they got 2 beds—that was me and my sister when we first moved into our weeeee lil apartment back when i was in middle school !! we were bummed bc we couldn't paint the walls but our parents let us have 2 beds so we could pick our sheets !! it was a fond memory LOL but now i DO have a room where i painted the color except i HATE the color now bc i was still in middle school when we moved into our house and got to pick colors and middle school me and adult me are soooo different so now i have a teal bedroom that haunts me
#teepods.writings#fics.#geto x reader#geto x you#geto fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#geto suguru fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x you
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Phantom Fudge
I love the fics of Danny settling into Gotham and having some sort of business and just absolutely confusing the Batfam with how flippant he is about the crime.
My take is, instead of a coffee shop or bookstore or occult shop, Danny opens a fudge shop!
His parents taught him, and he found he actually really loved it, and besides, his dream of being an astronaut was out of reach due to his unique medical readings. In this au, his parents learned about him being Phantom and took it well after a good period of spiraling because-Holy shit they shot their son. You may be asking, Goggles, didn't you just make a post that was all about Jack and Maddie not taking the news well? Yes. Yes, I did.
I go back and forth with wanting to salt them and not. I like both.
So anyways, Danny is the heir to the Ghost Throne, but he won't actually take up the official title until his time on Earth is naturally over. After everything got better with his parents and his regular ghost fighting buddies, he actually was able to raise his grades and graduate. Many teachers were amazed at the progress but really, Danny may not have been as smart as his parents and sister (he is an unreliable narrator and is actually very smart just not as conventional as his family) but before his accident he had done pretty good in school. The GIW was still a thing, but without the Fenton technology, they weren't doing as well as they previously did. His parents broke their contract after they rescued him from the GIW labs, it was a little after he told his parents about his halfa status and they came storming in to save him and all the other ghosts that were captured. After that, life got so much better. His parents listened to him, and he got to teach them all about his people. They started publishing more papers with actually accurate information and were doing their best to overturn the anti-ecto acts. They haven't accomplished it, but Danny was sure they would.
That's actually why he moved to Gotham. Tucker had the idea of contacting the Justice League to help with the anti-ecto laws, but their calls weren't being answered. Neither were the...strongly worded emails Sam sent in. So Danny did what he did best and jumped into something not entirely thought out but hoping for the best. He moved to Gotham so he could get close to Batman and ask for help. He got accepted into Gotham University on a scholarship. But he wanted to make some money on his own without his parents sending him some kind of allowance, and he didn't want to work at Bat Burger. He started selling fudge around winter at his school, and he got permission to do so.
From there, he got enough money to actually open a small fudge cart. Then he got enough for a small shop near his apartment which was rather close to Crim Alley so he hired some working girls to help with the shop and he employed any Alley Kids looking for some cash as delivery workers. (They only delivered in Crime Alley, though, but that was fine with Danny.) Danny loved his little fudge shop that he lovingly named Phantom Fudge, and the sign had a cute little ghost eating some fudge on it. When he was in school for classes, he left the shop in his friend Ginger's hands. She had been a working girl before, but before that, she had had experience working a small mom & pop kind of shop, so Danny felt good leaving her in charge. When Ellie visited, she helped out with the shop too.
Danny was thriving. Then he started getting customers of the ecto variety because, of course, he would. Apparently, he was something of an ecto filter for the shades and ghost of Gotham, so they would visit his shop to soak up some of the pure ectoplasm in the air. Then he experimented and made some ecto-fudge, which is what he gave to any ecto beings that entered his shop. Most couldn't pay, but they would give him a heads up if they saw anything shady happening around his shop.
Like a little heads up that some robberies were happening in the area, or some rogue was getting close. It was a nice little system they had. Though some ghosts came in just to tell him their unfinished business and like...he wasn’t King yet, but these were his people, so he tried to help them out as best they could.
One particular couple showed up a lot and would ask him to help warn their son of any danger they heard was brewing. They would ask him to leave messages for the son or any of his kids but also the butler if needed. Danby thought this guy had some great parents. They didn't cross over because they needed to make sure their son was safe and taken care of. It was most likely that they wouldn't cross until their son did by the sounds of it. He got permission to call them Grandma and Grandpa, which was weird, but he didn't question it.
Martha and Thomas were nice spirits, so he had no problem helping them out. But Danny is Danny and his well-intentioned help of course caught the eye of the whole batfam.
They had been receiving letters in the Manor that appeared mysteriously. The first one they had all thought was a prank from the many people there. It was a simple, 'Don’t go to the gala. Something bad will happen.' That started it all. They were all baffled but laughed it off, and those who went to the gala didn't know how to feel when the seeming wait staff took over the event and held the guests hostage.
A coincidence surely.
Then they got another note, 'Freeze is planning to do a B&E and snatch some equipment from a Wayne lab. Idk which one since you have so many.' And just like last time, the note was speaking the truth. It continued from there, and everyone tried to capture whoever or whatever was leaving the notes, but any cameras they had glitched out before returning to normal and showing a new note had showed uo somewhere in the Manor. Bruce was going crazy trying to figure out who or what their messenger was.
Alfred once found a note that said, 'Tim has been awake and pushing himself too far. He is going to crash.' He took it to heart though and made Tim rest and take a break. He would not let the note happen. Tim had had far too many crashes the past couple of months.
The note that broke Bruce, though, was small in words, but it made him feel crazy. It was his parent's death anniversary, and when he went to visit the exact spot, he saw a sticky note on the floor. He shakily picked it up to see all it said was, 'It's okay.'
Now he is really worked up and determined to find the note messenger.
While that's going on, Danny also gets some local vigilantes visiting his shop, and he is so excited to see them and try and be their friend so he can ask for help. Plus they seem to be fans of his fudge and that just makes him happy.
The batkids thing the Phantom Fudge shop owner is suspicious, but hot damn did he make some bomb ass fudge.
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— general dating hc's
pairing: percy jackson, annabeth chase, leo valdez, piper mclean, hazel levesque, jason grace, frank zhang (respectively) x gn!reader
word count: 3.0k part two
percy jackson
• underwater kisses!! all the time!! being a son of poseidon has its benefits. the whole experience is just magical fr. it's like being in a whole different world, where nothing else matters except for the two of you. the sensation of your lips touching, your bodies intertwined, and the sound of your breathing mixing with the water is simply unforgettable. the way your hands hold onto each other, the way your eyes lock, and the way your heart beats as one, it's a feeling that can't be replicated anywhere else.
• percy 100% teaches you how to skate. the first chance he gets, he'll lead you onto the smooth, concrete surface of the skate park with the intent of teaching you!!
he patiently guides you, holding your hands and rolling you along while walking beside you. he teaches you how to shift your weight, how to balance, and how to stop. and every time you stumble, he makes a huge show of catching you in his arms LMAO. like, it's not that serious, percy.
whenever he's skating alone, he can't help but think of you. :(( the way your hair sways in the wind, the sound of your laughter, and the warmth of your hand in his. he would often skate in circles, lost in thought, imagining you by his side. <33 (all the other skaters think he looks like a fool, but he doesn't care.)
• now don't tell me you two do not have matching jewelry, because you DO. he learns a lot about your style and preferences, (he knows if you look better in gold or silver) and the pretty necklaces and stuff are just a bonus!!
he wears a necklace with several charms all the time, since it was a gift from you! some of the charms include an ocean charm and a tiny silver skateboard that dangles from the delicate chain. whenever he misses you, he would reach up and touch the necklace, feeling the smooth metal under his fingers, and smile. <33
• whenever you explain things to percy, he nods his head in agreement, but you notice his gaze flickering towards your lips ever so often. you don't know what he's thinking, but his expression provides a pretty obvious hint as to what may be on his mind.
• growing up as a child of one of the big three can certainly take its toll on anyone, even percy. after a long day of training and preventing new campers from capsizing the canoes while racing with the naiads, all he wants is to melt into your embrace.
he sneaks into your cabin with you as soon as possible, laying down on your bed, a deep sigh escaping his lips and he stretches his neck from side to side, relishing in the brief moment of peace. his arms are outstretched, inviting you to join him, as he longs for the comfort and safety of your embrace.
it's clear that being in your presence has a calming effect on him, reassuring him that everything is going to be alright. <33
annabeth chase
• annabeth has a penchant for discovering new things to learn and become deeply invested in, and she talks to you about her newest interests all the time. when you take the time to listen to her ramblings about her current passions, she gets so excited!!
sometimes, you spend hours in the library researching the concepts and terminology she speaks of, just so that you can engage in a meaningful conversation with her instead of just nodding along. the effort is well worth it to see her reaction; the way her face lights up as she smiles, leaning in to give you a big kiss on the cheek as a reward!!
• but sometimes annabeth rambles way too much. like, wayyyy too much. i'm talking hours on end. while her voice is soothing and you enjoy lying in her arms while she speaks, it can be a lot at times.
and annabeth only stops talking when she's finished gushing. unless you kiss her first.
although she tries to act like your affection doesn't work on her, complaining with phrases like, "why did you do that," or "you didn't let me finish." but her tone clearly softens. her eyes crinkling at the corners, and soon enough her facade breaks and she can no longer hold back a smile. <33
• you guys still use pinky promises. it doesn't matter if she personally thinks it's trivial, she does it for your sake because she values your belief in it. and if anyone dares to make fun of it, she'd be glaring daggers at them the entire day. if looks could kill, they'd be dead.
(and after you two interlock pinkies she kisses the palm of your hand to seal the deal.)
• annabeth isn't big on PDA, but she definitely steals kisses when people aren't looking.
• annabeth love, love, LOVES reading to you!! especially when there's nobody around and it's just the two of you, your head on her lap as she reads aloud about the wonders of Richardsonian Romanesque style architecture... whatever that is. (but she makes it sound interesting so you don't care.)
• overall 10/10, what a queen.
leo valdez
• he's your portable heater fr. leo keeps you warm by holding you close. it's particularly convenient when you're nestled on his lap or resting against his chest.
• this man can COOK. he mainly cooks food from his heritage because it's a way for him to connect to his roots, but if you ask him to make a particular dish for you, he'll do it, no questions asked. it's a common sight to catch a glimpse of him in the kitchen, diligently chopping ingredients and following the recipe to your favorite dish, getting himself completely covered in smoke and steam by the end of the process, but the result is always delicious so neither of you care.
he'll often call you into the kitchen to taste-test his newest recipe, shoving the dish in your face and urging you to try it like, "here babe, taste it!!" with the brightest smile as he eagerly waits for your feedback. he values your opinions a lot!
• him calling you petnames in spanish >>> omg. among his favorites are "mi amor" (my love), "cariño" (darling), and "corazón" (sweetheart). he usually rotates between those three and it never fails to bring a blush to your cheeks because like, hello??? how could it not??? he's always quick to notice your reaction and can't resist teasing you, playful remarks leaving his lips like, "a little flustered now are we, mi amor?" 🙏🙏🙏
• no matter how long you've been together, leo still flirts with you like it's the first time he's seen you. he'll brace himself against the nearest doorframe and unleash the cheesiest pick-up line known to mankind. despite their predictability, you play along. the game ends when he asks you on a "first date."
• leo spends a lot of time tinkering in his workshop, so whenever boredom sets in, (or if he's just thinking of you) he likes to put his creativity to use by making various small creations with you on his mind. these items range from keychains, to mini jewelry boxes, and even small flowers carved out of metal scraps. (you now have enough to make a bouquet.) your nightstand and shelves are absolutely littered with his handiwork, and you take pride in owning each one of them. <33
• leo's the type of guy that twirls you around while hugging. there's something incredibly spontaneous and thrilling about the experience — just when you think he's only reaching for your hand, he suddenly lifts you off the ground and spins you around, generating a moment of pure joy before gently setting you down once again, and leaning back in for a normal hug.
• he's so whipped for you it's not even funny.
piper mclean
• piper hates being categorized as a typical child of aphrodite due to the expectations and assumptions that come with the title, especially given the reputation of some of her siblings. she's always quick to reassure you that she won't break your heart and that her love for you is truly genuine.
• piper has a soft spot for when you play with her hair; running your fingers through her choppy locks and especially when you braid it. when you gently scratch her scalp while brushing your nails through her hair, she gets lost in her own little world.
• piper isn't afraid to show you off if you're okay with it. like she's in a beautiful, loving relationship, why wouldn't she?? also she's a hand swinger FR. 🙏🙏🙏
• you guys have matching bracelets!! nothing fancy, just a bunch of multi-colored beads on a string, but she loves them so much. sometimes you dedicate dates to making these bracelets just because it's one of her favorite pastimes.
she has one with your name written on the beads, a couple with the titles of the albums you listen to together, as well as ones with your preferred color schemes. just anything to remind her of you. <33
her collection is so big that they now stack up to her arms. maybe it's becoming a problem.
• while piper doesn't like flaunting her wealth, if she sees that you have your eye on something she'll immediately buy it for you. no questions asked. you don't even need to say anything.
maybe you'll bring it up ONCE, not even asking her to buy it, just mentioning you were saving up for a particular item, and the next day it's on your bed with a note from her. when you ask her she'll just be like, "weren't you talking about it?"
• while piper is pretty self-conscious about her singing, she'll do it if you ask her to because she trusts you. if you're having trouble sleeping, she'll lay your head in her lap and sing a short melody, and it works every time. once you drift off, she’ll place a tender kiss on your forehead, (or multiple) and express how much you mean to her, because she can't be this sentimental when you're awake.
she's so in love omg.
hazel levesque
• she's the absolute sweetest girlfriend you could ever ask for! her sweet and loving nature is simply amazing and her love for you knows no bounds. she goes above and beyond to make you feel appreciated and loved in every way possible.
• she definitely loves to go horse-back riding with you. the sensation of the wind blowing through your hair, the warm sun kissing your skin, and the gentle sound of the horse's hooves rhythmically hitting the ground beneath you — it all feels like pure magic, especially since hazel is sharing the moment with you!
• over time, hazel got more comfortable with kisses. the first time you two shared a kiss, she timidly brushed her lips against yours before rapidly withdrawing, her hands instinctively covering her face in embarrassment.
but as time went by and your relationship progressed, she soon began to relax and gain confidence, especially with you relaxing and guiding her through every step of the way. <33
PDA isn't really her thing, but when the two of you are in private, she WILL shower you with kisses on various parts of your body, including your forehead, cheeks, neck, lips, and anywhere else she can reach. i feel like she'd especially love kissing your nose. it's quite endearing to watch her stand on her toes to give you a sweet smooch if you're tall, or simply grab your face and plant a gentle kiss on your nose if you're shorter.
• hazel is doing her best to learn about your interests, but like many things in the today's world, it's a learning process for her. but your help makes her feel more at ease in this modern world. there is still a lot that hazel doesn't fully comprehend, so she values the historical insights you share with her.
• hazel's love languages are acts of service and gift giving. she loves the way your eyes light up when she pampers you. she's also so patient when she helps you with your sword-fighting!! she goes the extra mile to help you master any technique, training with you for hours on end just to see your smile. she patiently guides you through each step, offering advice and encouragement along the way. her joy comes from your progress and happiness.
• okay this is a small thing but she always lets you have the last bite!! whether you're dining out or sharing popcorn at the movies, hazel is always mindful of ensuring that you get the last bite/handful. <33
she's so cute omg.
jason grace
• i think most of us know how touch starved this man is, but he slowly eases into romantic gestures. after a long day of praetor duties, all he wants to do is melt in your arms as you whisper sweet nothings to him.
jason loovvees resting his forehead against yours. it just brings him a sense of comfort and solace, really just your presence itself makes him feel safe. <33
• jason grows to love hand-holding! it starts off with just linking pinkies, but progresses when you take his calloused palms into yours. from the second you two intertwine hands, he's hooked.
he doesn't really know how to initiate hand-holding, so he often makes excuses like, "here, let's compare hand sizes." or "aren't you cold? let me warm up your hands for you." and proceeds to take both of your hands in his without waiting for a response because he just can't ask upfront. :(( (don't worry, he gets over it as the relationship progresses.) his GRIP on your hand is so noticeable LMAO. it's like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go.
he most definitely places kisses on your hand. 🙏🙏🙏 i'm talking regency era jane austen style kisses to your fingertips or palm, looking away with a visible blush. <33
• hear me out, considering his expertise in combat, this man has gotta have some beefy arms okayyy?? like, it's hard not to stare at them. and once he rolls up his sleeves, it's all over FR.
he does it without thinking at first, whether it's tidying up his cabin, strategizing battle plans, or sometimes just mindlessly sighing and rolling up his sleeves when something's on his mind. but he starts to notice how your gaze lingers on his forearms a little too long to be considered "normal", and once he figures it all out, he's having a whole field day with it.
basically, he makes a point to show off his arms around you whenever he could. it drives you crazy, and guess what? he's well aware of it. you know this given that he'll occasionally flash one of his rare jason grace smiles, which later transitions into a grin with a slightly raised lip. 🙏🙏🙏
• he's such a gentleman fr. even little things like holding open doors for you even if it means waiting a few extra moments, offering his sweater when you're cold without hesitation, or fixing up a plate for you during dinner, he's always trying to make life a little easier for you. <33
frank zhang
• frank gives the best bear hugs! (both literally and figuratively.) in the early stages of a relationship, he may come across as a bit awkward. not because he doesn't want to initiate anything, but rather because he's a bit unsure of himself. he takes his time to get to know you and build trust before stepping up his game and expressing his love in more obvious ways. as time passes, he becomes more comfortable and eases into the relationship at a sweet and slow pace, making sure to respect your boundaries and wishes. :((
he loves holding you and making you feel loved, so cuddles aren't uncommon. he takes care to express his affection in a way that makes you feels comfortable and appreciated!! he's always asking you, "do you feel alright?" or "is this fine?" because what may be okay one day might not be okay the next.
typically, he prefers to be the big spoon, but he's is also happy being the little spoon, because he believes that vulnerability and intimacy go both ways in a relationship!!
• frank has the ability to shapeshift into tons of different animals, and he uses this to his advantage while cuddling with you!! imagine waking up to find a cuddly koala bear clinging onto you protectively one day, and then the next day, holding a sweet and adorable tea-cup sized labrador puppy in your hands. the cuddling possibilities are endless!!
• your decision to date frank despite any challenges along the way has had such an impact on his self-esteem. like, seriously!! every word of praise you offer him is treasured, and he adores being around you; in fact, he flourishes in your presence. your encouragement has really made a difference in his life. <33
• he love, love, LOVES holding your hand!! he seems to find every opportunity to intertwine his fingers with yours, and in moments of stress or anxiety, he'll often tap or lightly pull on your hand as if seeking reassurance because your touch brings him a sense of comfort and safety.
• considering that frank's height ranges from 6'3-6'6, you're probably shorter than him. and yeah, he definitely utilizes his height advantage around you.
he loves by approaching you from behind and embracing you, regardless of your own height, and another plus is that he can easily lean down for a kiss!!
his height is particularly convenient around high shelves or objects that may be out of your reach. his height also provides a sense of protection and security for you because he can easily shield you from any harm that may come your way!
overall, 10/10 would date again.
a/n
WHY DO MY FICS KEEP GETTING LONGER AND LONGER LMFAOO.
i wanted to keep this fic relatively short but omg i could not fit everything i wanted in one post. part 2 maybe??
i love writing hc's because they're a lot more casual but my next post will probably be a regular oneshot. :))
xx, val.
#heroes of olympus#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson#percy jackson x you#percy jackson x y/n#heroes of olympus x reader#hoo#hoo x reader#pjo x reader#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo#x reader#percy jackson imagine#percy jackson x yn#percy jackson fluff#pjo imagine#riordanverse x reader#annabeth chase x reader#leo valdez x reader#jason grace x reader#piper mclean x reader#frank zhang x reader#hazel levesque x reader
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sweet
pairing: bf!Eddie Munson x f!reader
summary: Eddie is trying to see what it takes for you to ask him for help.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, praise kink, dry humping, cum in pants (lmk if i forgot anything)
wc: 2.2k
a/n: i blacked out after two sentences i have no clue where the rest came from. apparently i was too horny to give a proper ending?
Eddie can see your hyper-focus on your hands, his heart is melting at the way you’re trying so hard to follow what he showed you even though he knows you can’t focus when you’re high.
It’s 10:37 pm, you and Eddie are high and he’s been trying to teach you the chords to his new song for 20 minutes now. He’s chuckling quietly as your fingers fumble over the strings again, drawing a frustrated whine from your mouth.
“Aww, It’s okay, baby. You’re doing much better than you were earlier! You’re actually picking this up way faster than I thought you would.” Eddie is genuine when he says it but it’s your reaction that changes that.. that changes his intentions. He watches your face as he praises you, he watches your eyes glaze over, and your lips part gently as a soft smile spreads over your face.
“Th- Thank you, Eddie. That’s so nice of you, thank you.” You sound so out of it. It shocks Eddie for a moment but makes perfect sense. He thinks of all the time you ask him for help with your studies, even though he knows you know the material. He thinks of all the time he cheers for you after getting the right answer, how he praises you and calls you his smart girl. He thinks of all the times you bake for him, asking for him to taste test them even though you’ve made the recipe a million times, he thinks about his exaggerated moans of delight, how he would get on his knees and beg you to make him a batch.
He thinks about times exactly like this one, when he’s playing his guitar for you and you beg him to teach you. He thinks about how quickly you pick them up and how you beam at him when you finally get it. The only difference now is that you’re higher than he’s ever seen you.
You wanted to celebrate for midterms so Eddie rolled you a blunt instead of his usual joints. Of course, his little lightweight got high out of her mind. You got so soft and cuddly that he could’ve never denied you when you asked him real nice to teach you the new chords.
He comes out of his thoughts just in time for him to hear you nail the part you’ve been struggling with, perfectly. His blood rushes to his cock when he notices the way you look up at him, expectantly, almost… desperately. “Such a good job, baby.” It comes out more sultry than he meant it to but he’s never been able to hide his emotions with you.
He watches your eyebrows, twitch in confusion but you don’t break his gaze. You’re waiting for more. He has to take a deep breath as his sensitive tip presses against the zipper of his jeans. His hands are twitching at his sides as he gets up, leaving his desk and making his way to where you sit on his bed. “That was amazing, honey. You’re better than I am, you’re perfect.”
He watches your thighs tense, trying to rub together as your hips lift to press you against his guitar as you get a faraway look in your eyes. You’re looking right at him as you grind yourself into his guitar, he doesn’t think you even realize you’re doing it. He lays down next to you, watching your bottom lip tuck under your teeth as you shake your head with a small smile. “No, not better than you, Eds. I could never beat the best, baby.”
Eddie has to actively bite back a moan at the pet name, he feels like he’s gonna fucking pass out as all his blood rushes south. He knows you’re trying, he knows you’re trying to turn him on, asking him to make you feel good without actually saying the words.
He’s told you time and time again how hot your pet names get him, he knows it’s silly but he cannot help it. Every time you speak to him with any ounce of sweetness he’s fattening up in his jeans. “But you’re perfect then?” He presses his hips forward, loving the pressure your plush thighs provide against his throbbing cock. His eyes almost roll back as he watches a silent moan fall from your mouth as your hips twitch, forward first against his guitar but back again to press into his boner.
He smiles and raises an eyebrow at you, challenging you. You never initiate. He knows you’re shy, he knows it’s hard for you. He knows he’s all of your firsts but he needs— he craves to hear you beg him- to hear you ask him to touch you. He’s insecure, he can’t have this be so one-sided. He wants to see how far he has to push you before you say something.
You’re nodding at him desperately. “Yes- Yes, I’m perfect.” He’s smiling so fondly at your agreement, his dick twitching painfully in his pants. He knows you feel it by the way your hips twitch, pathetically confused and you whine. It’s short and cut off as you turn to put his guitar away, placing it gently on the ground. You brush his cock and give him a beautiful view of your ass in the process. He’s silently begging you to say something, he doesn’t know how long he can keep this up.
You turn back around and just stare at him, waiting for him to say something. He watches confusion bloom over your face, your head tilting like a puppy. He mimics your action with a teasing smile. “Do you have something to ask me, baby?” He watches realization and dread spread over your features.
“Eddie…” Your thighs are rubbing together, nervously or for friction. He doesn’t falter, just looks at you expectantly as you pout. His hips are subconsciously thrusting up into the air, getting hot under your gaze. You press your hand to your forehead, astonishingly stressed at this seemingly simple task. Eddie considers letting up as he analyzes the distress on your face but you speak up.
“Eddie can you-” You whine and avert your gaze. “Can you make me feel good? I—“ You huff out a breath of embarrassment. “I want you to make me cum… please.” His heart bursts at how nicely you ask. He’s taking a slow deep breath, trying to calm himself before answering you but you take his silence as a demand for more. “Eddie please!” You sound so upset, it's so cute. It makes him so hard. “Please, I- I need it. I need you, Eddie, please.” You’re still not looking at him as you whine.
Eddie turns your head and smashes his lips into yours just to shut you up. If you had kept rambling about how bad you need him he would’ve cum in his pants. “Yeah. Yeah, I can make you feel good, baby. What do you wanna do, pretty girl? We can do whatever you want. You asked me so nicely, honey. You’re so sweet.”
He’s desperate and all over you as he speaks. His hands are in your hair as he kisses all over your face and down your neck. You feel like you could suffocate in his need for you, it rushes over you and makes you need him more. “Your- Can we- Eddie.”
He’s biting into your neck as you try to answer. You can feel him smirking in your neck as you struggle to answer him. “ ‘M sorry, baby. Go on, talk. You’re doing so well, honey.” He pulls himself closer to you so he can press his bulge into you again, his eyes fully rolling back at the pressure this time. “I want you to…. fingermeplease?” He moans at the way you rush out the last part of the sentence but still manage to use your manners.
“You want me to finger you, baby? Fuck, yeah. I can do that. Mhm. You wanna sit between my legs? Let me open you up and play?” You’re nodding frantically and whining against his face as he lets filth spill from his lips. “Yeah? Will ‘ya squirm, honey? No, no I bet you’ll stay put like a good girl, huh?”
He pummels you with his embarrassingly arousing words as he gets up to take his pants off (as you do the same), leaving his boxers and situating himself against the headboard. His thick thighs spread wide over his bed, leaving room for you to crawl between them. You don’t move though, you’re too mesmerized by the way his cock is pressing against the fabric, leaking into it and leaving a rapidly spreading dark spot. It can’t help but twitch as you admire him, he can’t take it; the hungry yet somehow innocent look in your eyes as you crawl towards him.
Normally this is the part where you turn around, your legs spread and trembling over his as he shoves his fingers in your pretty pussy over and over until you’re quivering around his fingers, moaning and gripping his hair behind you desperately. Normally this is the part when he presses his boner to your lower back, thrusting against you in time with his fingers, imagining that it’s actually his cock inside you and willing himself not to cum when he pictures it for too long.
Instead, you lift yourself to your knees. His face becomes level with your panties, his hips thrusting into the air as he groans at the pink bow resting on the band. You put your hands on his shoulder and slowly lower yourself onto his lap, letting out the sweetest moan as his soaked cock pushes into your dripping lips. His hands come up to your hips and force you down to him rougher than he meant to when he hears the sweetest whimper of “Oh, Eddie” slip from your throat.
“Oh my fucking god, baby. You feel incredible, so fucking perfect. I can’t take it. Mm- Oh— What happened? I- I thought you wanted my fingers, sweetheart?” He’s throwing his head back and groaning when you collapse into him, leaning your weight on his bulge. You’re huffing out like you’re gonna cum, looking up at him with your pretty, glazed over, fucked out, high as fuck eyes.
“I dunno, Eddie. I- It looked like he was- like he was crying for me.” Your hips stutter with a moan as your eyes roll back, Eddie’s hard cock rubbing against your clit perfectly. He feels like he’s gonna cum as you confess. It confounding to him; how you can say the most whorish things in the sweetest way.
“You are in-fucking-credible, my love. I have no clue how you do this to me. I’m already so close, baby. You’re so amazing, so soft for me, love.” His eyes roll back and he’s losing it.
“You’re gonna make me cum— fuck. Holy shit—faster. Oh-h f-fuck me faster, baby. I love you so much. I- I’m gonna cum so hard. I- dammit. I wanna make you cum first. L-lemme make you cum first- shi-itt.”
You’re rabid against him, your hips moving at a pace that has him weak. You have him questioning who’s in control. He’s wound even tighter when he feels your hips falter, losing their rhythm as your mini whines evolve into desperate moans. “H-Help- Ed—”
Your breathing is scattered as you whine and twitch against him. “Yeah, I’ve got you, baby.” He grabs your hips and grinds you against him, lifting his hips to meet your heavenly pussy and pressing magnificently into your clit. It has your hands digging into his shoulders, dropping down to his waist as you hug yourself to him. You’re moaning into his ear as he feels your thighs tensing on his sides.
“T-tell me-” You whine higher, more pathetically than he’s heard all night, his cock pulses, spurting out a dangerous amount of pre-cum into his boxers. “Tell me I’m good. T-Tell me I’m pretty—” You cut yourself off with a gasp as you buck your hips against him, a newfound energy coursing through you. “Oh- please- please tell me I’m pretty.”
Eddie’s right on the edge, moaning so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole trailer park heard him. “YES- Yes, oh my god. You’re so beautiful, my love. You’re a fucking goddess among peasants. You’re a flower in a field of fucking hay, you’re my dream. You’re my soulmate.” He dissolves into a whine as you cum against him. You’re moaning into his shoulder, trying to muffle yourself in his shirt but you’re too loud.
“There you go, fuck yes. Good girl— Oh shit. I’m gonna-” His eyes are in the back of his skull before he can finish. His hips twitching insanely and spurting out an outrageous amount of cum into the fabric of your panties. He’s panting as he tries to come down but you’re deliriously humping him. Forcing more ropes of cum into his boxers, he just can’t seem to stop.
“Oh. Oh my god- I- I can’t stop. You’re such a good girl. Mine. My good girl. Askin’ me to make you feel good, takin’ what you need. God-” A ragged moan bubbles out of him as his cock finally stops drenching your poor panties.
thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist!
#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things#stranger things smut#luvrxsmut#luvrxfics#eddie munson imagine#stranger things s4
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Could i request something where az and reader are mates. They have a huge fight and “break up” and reader leaves the court. She finds out that she is pregnant and writes him a letter. He never shows up so she thinks he doesn’t want the baby. Rhys visit the court she is in and sees her with a child maybe a couple months old. He is mad because she didn’t told him and when he ask her why she keeps his nephew away she tells him that she wrote az but he never answered. Rhys is mad and ask az what is up with him to just leave his pregnant mate. Unbeknownst to him that az was searching for her the whole time. Az tells him that he never got a letter and they find out that maybe elain burned it. It takes some time for them but they find their way back and just fluff azriel dad who teaches his son how to fly.
( you could write more angst between reader and az because of elain or you could use a maid or something who wants az)
Here Without You
Summary - Being a single mother was more painful than you'd ever thought it would be, especially when your son's father was just a court away.
Warnings - Angst, Elain showing those claws, single mom status, a child, PPD and the thoughts that come with it, **edited to add** cheating
A/N - I had one of my friends who is a single mom help me with this one while also imagining my life without baby daddy, and um, yeah. We cried a lot, so hopefully, you all do too.
*message from Liz regarding the ending at the end*
💙Peep my Azriel Masterlist Here💙
You had decided whatever you had done to offend the Mother must have been truly unforgettable and unforgivable as you sank against the wall of your family chambers in the Day Court Palace.
Being a new mother was the hardest thing you had ever and will ever do. You had finally gotten Nox down after 3 hours of fussing and tears, and now you waited. He'd sleep 2 hours if you were lucky, wake up crying, and you'd start the process over.
You had wished for your mate more times than you could count, but that bridge was long gone and burned. He had ensured of that by not coming when you wrote him, by not even bothering to write you a response.
The last fight between you and Azriel had been ugly. Glasses had been thrown, a bottle of wine knocked over in rage, cruel words you would both have to live with ringing in your ears like a scream. 350 years. Gone. Thrown away like garbage. All for Elain.
Selfish, plotting, destructive Elain.
You stood, body swaying with sleep deprivation setting in before sitting at the table where your now cold food set. You were too tired to eat, choosing to instead drink the water you had been desperately craving 4 hour ago.
You had wished you could turn it to wine, drink it with no consequences, and still feed Nox when he woke, but that was not the reality of the world. So, instead, you allowed the room temperature flavorless beverage to slide down your throat before moving like a ghost to the couch. There was no point in getting comfortable in your own bed. You would have to be up soon anyway. It wasn’t as if you had help.
You were alone.
And that wasn't even the most painful part of it.
The most painful part was setting in doubt. The growing disbelief that you weren't capable of this, that Nox deserved more, that you should have dropped him at the cabin you had no doubt Elain had moved into, leaving him with her and Azriel to allow you to-
You cut your brain off, refusing to put those words into a full thought. Refusing to believe that your disappearance or death was better for your son than this.
This had to be enough, you had to be enough, because Gods if it wasn't and you weren't, then what truly was the point in living any longer.
Helion entered your chambers the next morning, eyes falling to where you were sat on the floor, shoulders shaking as sobs tore through you. He placed a large warm hand on your shoulder before taking Nox from your arms. "I know I can not offer much of a break due to his feeding cycle, but when is the last time you ate a hot meal, y/n?"
You shook your head. He was 2 weeks old. You supposed it had been before labor. Since then, it had been moments begging for just a second of deep sleep. Moments begging for the Mother to help you, to guide you. Moments where those prayers went unanswered as if they were just thrown into a void. "I don't remember."
Helion could have killed Azriel for you, for Lucien, for Nox. He almost had when you had winnowed yourself here, collapsing in his arms from the exhaustion magic and a growing babe had caused your body.
You hadn't known when you came to the Day Court, begging your oldest friend for a week of safety and healing that you were pregnant, but the High Lord had scented it the second you appeared.
It left him wondering how the hell Azriel hadn't.
"Let me hire a wet nurse for you," he offered again, knowing you would turn it down since your depressive state had you hyper fixated in this belief that all you were good for now was your breasts, and if you gave that duty away, what purpose did you have? "At least for the next few hours. To give you time to rest?"
You still shook your head, messy, tangled hair trying to sway. "I can't. I can't burden someone else."
Helion turned his head away from you, willing himself not to cry at the emptiness of your voice, at the lifelessness you had become.
"The Night Court and Spring are coming today," he started slowly. "I am the magic selected neutral ground for Tamlin and Rhysand to begin setting a peace treaty and trade routes." He waited for your reaction, almost breaking further as you gave him none. "Do you want to see any of them?"
"Lucien and Tamlin."
Helion felt his heart shatter for Cassian, the male who had been asking about you for months now. "The general-"
"Is Azriel's brother. And probably has taken his side. Attempts to see me are probably to give him some sick sort of satisfaction."
He dropped the subject immediately. Nox was asleep, content in the High Lord's arms. "I have time before they arrive, go nap." Helion ordered it, eyes blazing a soft gold and forcing you into submission.
Your bed had never felt so soft.
Helion was walking with Nox around the Palace, smiling and cooing the little male. He was always content when he was being held, and you were so deeply asleep you hadn't even noticed Helion holding the boy to your chest as he nursed. He walked towards where Lucien and Tamlin were.
His son, his pride and joy, looked just radiant in his Day Court attire. The soft, off-white pleaded fabric draping him showed the new healthy build he had gained since Azriel and Elain's transgressions, a golden snake wrapped his bicep, new golden earrings adorned those many piercings.
Lucien paused, a look of concern etching his face when he saw Nox before shaking his head rapidly.
But it was too late, Helion was already in the room where Rhysand also stood with the Inner Circle. The Lord of Night's face fell as he looked at the Illyrian boy, looking so happy up at Helion as he dozed off.
Cassian had frozen, mid sentence with Nesta. He had tried to take a step, wanting to see the babe he immediately knew was his nephew. His eyes met Helion's pleading with permission to approach. Elain's face had paled. A mix of guilt and fear running across it before she schooled it into a faked look of hurt and sadness.
But it was Azriel's face the broke the High Lord. It was a look he knew all too well.
The look of a father who missed the birth of his child.
The look of a father who didn't know he had a child.
The look of a father mourning lost time.
Lucien moved to Helion, taking Nox before leaving the room quickly. The boy did as he always did when his head found Lucien's warm bare shoulder. He released a heavy breath, snuggling into that familiar scent and warmth. "Your mother did not call for me last night," they all heard his soft voice trailing off, speaking to their nephew softly.
"You will tell me everything I do not know," Rhysand demanded as if he was in his own court. "When the fuck was he born. Why were we not informed of her pregnancy?"
Tamlin looked to Helion, digging the shit further. "Is she in the same room as last time?" The Lord of Day nodded. "I will go see her while you all deal with this."
Helion didn't answer, walking to the centered round table and taking the head seat. "To begin, Rhysand, this is my court. You will not make demands of me in my home." They all sat, aside from Azriel. His gaze was locked on the hallway Lucien and Tamlin had gone down.
If he ran, he could catch them. He could see you. He could-
The slam of hands on a table ripped him from his thoughts, and his head snapped to Helion. The High Lord was blazing, glowing like the sun itself, heat radiating from him. "Sit. Down."
An hour later and Rhysand had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. "You saw her send each letter?"
Helion rolled his eyes, nodding again. "Every month after every check up and once after the birth."
Rhys pointed to Azriel. "But you never got them?"
"My son wouldn't be in another court if I had," Azriel's voice mirrored yours. Broken, empty, mourning. Mourning what was, what he had missed and would never get back. "You're sure she sent them to me?"
Helion could have snapped his neck. "Who else would have fathered her babe? You are the one who stepped out of the bonds of marriage and mateship. Not her."
Azriel paused, a sudden look of anger gracing his face as he looked up at Elain, shadows curling his ears. Nuala appeared, setting envelopes down in front of Rhysand. "In her room. Under her bed in a locked chest. Along with every communication you had tried to send to y/n, my lord."
Feyre gasped, turning her back to Elain and leaning further into Rhysand, holding Nyx tightly between them. She remembered those first few weeks. The sleepless nights, the pain, the emotional down pour. She would not have survived without Rhysand. Without Nesta and Mor. Without Cassian and you and Azriel. Her sister, the one who had held her as darkness swallowed her mind after her son's birth, had allowed you to endure this alone.
Azriel's hands shook, reaching for that stack. He separated out the letters. 10 for him. 2 for Rhysand and Feyre. 2 for Mor. 2 for Amren. 4 for Cassian and Nesta.
Helion stood. "I will let you all process this. Call for me when you are ready to do negotiations. The sooner you all leave, the better for her."
Rhysand's eyes shot up. "You won't let us explain to her-"
"Does it change the fact that he took Elain to their marriage bed? Does it change that he signed the annulment papers." Silence filled the room. "I believe that's why she left. Correct?" Rhys grit his teeth nodding. "Then all this changes is me, someone she trusts and feels safe with right now, informing her of what happened and allowing her to decide if she wants to reach out again from that point." He made a pointed look at Elain. "Which would not matter since I cannot see you removing the parasite from your court."
Helion walked into your room to Lucien and Nox laying skin to skin, a blanket over them as Tamlin held you, long fingers running through your dark hair. "And?" His son said.
"Your mate hid the letters regarding her pregnancy." Lucien whistled. "She's a snake hiding behind beautiful scales."
Azriel had tracked down your room with his shadows easily. The inner circle had been excused for the negotiations and allowed to explore the city. Cassian had flown Elain home, Mor and Amren winnowing Nesta behind them. Cassian wanted Elain out of his house, and Azriel could not have been more grateful to his brother for having his back.
He entered the room slowly and quietly. You were placing the babe in a crib on the balcony. It was shaded from the sun, shielded to remain the perfect temperature, and yet gave him access to fresh air, to the breeze.
You turned, eyes wide the second you saw Azriel. He moved to you so quickly that you could hardly process it. One second, your feet were on the ground, and the next, arms held you tight against him. Azriel was breathing deeply, memorizing your scent all over again.
He set you down, keeping you close to his chest, and sent a prayer to the Mother. "Elain hid all the letters," he began slowly. "She kept them all in her room. I didn't know. Had I known about you, about him, I would have crawled the very depths of hell to bring you back home to me."
You didn't answer. Tears fell as your body relaxed into him. It wasn't fair. The hold he had on you. The need you still felt in your bones when he touched your skin. You ached for Azriel so deeply it echoed into your bones. You longed for his smell. His voice.
Azriel took your silence as permission to continue. "I made a mistake. I will never be able to make up for it. Elain knew the second you left, I wanted to correct this. I was so blinded by her, by the feeling of being needed like that again, that I forgot how precious your independence was. How beautiful it is."
He couldn't stop himself from kissing the top of your head. "You are all I think about. Morning, noon, and night, it is always and will always be you. I am so sorry for what I have done. I am sorry for hurting you, for ruining us, for hurting the family we should be raising together. There are no words for my remorse."
"Why?" Your voice broke as you asked. "Why wasn't I enough?"
Azriel pulled back to look at you, hand raising to hold your chin and force eye contact. "Y/n, you are not at fault for my actions. You did nothing wrong. There is no partial blame, no what ifs. I fucked up. I made a mistake and it cost both of us everything. You are the victim of my actions, not the catalyst."
He saw you process those words and saw as they sunk in. "You were and are more than I will ever deserve. I want to spend my lifetime making up for it. Becoming a male you are proud of. I want to be the father I never got to have. I want to be the husband and mate you deserve. I know it will take time, and I do not expect your forgiveness today, but if you give me a chance, I will go to my grave worshipping the ground you two walk."
"Do you want to meet our son?" He broke at the question, feeling the bond opening back on your end. "This doesn't mean we're back together. It means we need to coparent for him while we work on things." He nodded rapidly, following you to the bassinet.
It felt like the world was coming full circle. You knew it would take time, that you two had many things to discuss first. This was a needed good start, though. Your pain eased slightly as you pulled back the curtains to the crib and whispered, "Azriel, this is Nox, your son."
@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho
**I have received some pretty nasty anon asks, some unconstructive comments, and a good amount of general negativity regarding this fic. If you are unhappy with the ending and want to know why I made the choices I made as the author, click #discussingherewithoutyou. Unconstructive comments will be receiving the same copy and paste answer from here forward.
My time and content are free. If you do not like them, scroll.
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Azriel Taglist:
@elle4404
#acotar#acotar x reader#send asks#send anons#azriel acotar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x yn#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#discussingherewithoutyou
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daisy (english profrry x TA!yn)
part one of english profrry is here!!!!!
word count: 6.3k
BIG content warnings: massive, glaring warning for an inappropriate relationship. y/n is a graduate student in this and of legal consenting age, but there's an age gap of four years between her and harry. she is his TA, which means there's a big power imbalance between them. bc this is fic we'll pretend it's romantic and all very consensual but if this is triggering to you in any way, DO NOT READ IT. it's not worth hurting your mental health. also, if anything remotely like this happens in your personal life, IT IS NOT OKAY.
other CWs: small smut scene at the end (m masturbation with descriptions of m receiving oral, slight cum play), y/n alludes to having seasonal depression but it's never outwardly said (just be aware since the descriptions of it could be triggering to some!), a bit of angst but nothing crazy
with all that out of the way, if you still choose to read, I hope you enjoy :) love you all lots!!
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. . .
Professor Styles is a dick.
That’s what the entire English department said when it was announced that Y/N would be his newest teaching assistant for the spring semester.
They all sneered at her, throwing what they pretended to be caring warnings her way, claiming that he was impossible to work with and he didn’t even actually need a TA, he just liked picking students to embarrass. With their noses upturned at Y/N but not actually offering any kind of advice, she left the small English building shortly after the Dean unveiled the new schedule for TAs, anxiety bubbling in her stomach and thick, salty tears in her waterline.
She knows Professor Styles doesn’t have the greatest reputation on campus. She actually actively avoided taking any classes with him throughout the duration of her bachelor’s degree, and even as she chose to stay on to enter her first year of graduate school, she picked any other available professors over him.
He was known for his less-than-personable demeanor and the way he picked apart students’ essays, leaving them questioning their entire life path. Y/N has never felt much insecurity about her career — she’s always wanted to go into English, maybe opting for a small but impactful job in publishing or editing — but having a professional ruin her writing sounded… well, awful.
In reality, Y/N didn’t have much of a choice when it came to her teaching assistant preferences. She needed a job that wouldn’t take up too much of her time. Her first semester of grad school was difficult and stressful. All of her friends graduated and went on to cool jobs all over the country, while Y/N just stayed in the same apartment. She was homesick for her family and walked through a campus every day that reminded her of a better version of herself — one who had a flourishing social life and excellent grades. Just a few months of working on her masters degree had worn her down.
Despite the slight dip in her grades from university to graduate school (an expected change, her advisor had explained), she was still recommended as a TA for the English department in the spring. She’d really been gunning after Professor Rooney, a kind, middle-aged woman who had spent years working glamorous jobs in the publishing world. She had connections everywhere and was incredibly sweet, and Y/N knew she would feel comfortable working in her sections for the semester. All winter break, she imagined how wonderful it could be; that maybe it was the huge win she needed after such a shitty fall.
But Professor Rooney didn’t choose her. Professor Styles did.
Even with a promise of a reasonable stipend contingent on the completion of her TA position, Y/N’s world felt like it came crashing down just a little bit — but she knew better than to complain or blubber on about not getting her way. Instead, she chose to just get through it.
In the final days of winter break, Professor Styles emailed her to meet in his office the day before classes began. He didn’t ask if she was back on campus or if she had a good break. Y/N wanted to resent that, but chose to swallow it down.
When she got to his small office in the department, she gently knocked on the open door, signaling her arrival. He peered up from whatever book he was hunched over on his deck, straightened his posture, and checked his watch.
“You’re late.” he said flatly, shutting the paperback with a force she didn’t even know was possible. With furrowed brows, she glanced at the lockscreen on the phone she held.
“You said 10:30, right? It’s 10:30 now.”
“On time is late,” he muttered, folding his hands on his desk, “Early is on time.”
She swallowed, her lips parting like a guppy. He rolled his eyes and motioned to the seat on the other side of her desk. Quickly, she took it, placing her tote bag at her feet and making a mental reminder to arrive at his classes five minutes early from this point on.
“Right, so you’re my TA, then?”
She nodded, “Yes, for the spring semester.”
He hummed, though she couldn’t tell if it was a sound of approval or discontent. He moved his computer mouse over the surface of the university provided mouse pad, making his computer buzz to life. With an awkward silence settling between them, the sound of the mouse clicking was the only thing that filled the dim office.
“You just graduated from the English department last spring,” he said, eyes scanning over what she now assumed was her student file, “3.8 GPA. That’s fine.”
She blinked at that, resisting the urge to balk at him. 3.8 was .2 away from a perfect GPA. It was more than fine.
“You didn’t take any classes with me during your time as an undergrad.”
“Um, your sections were always full—”
“I don’t really care what your reasoning is,” he cut her off, continuing to scroll down the screen. A lump formed in her throat but she tried to swallow it down. Nothing sounded more embarrassing than crying in front of Professor Styles. “And now you’re getting your masters in English with a concentration in Feminist Literature. That’s an unusual one. Why?”
She’s surprised he’s bothered to ask her a question, so it takes her a moment to form a cohesive answer on her tongue. She’s flailing a bit and she knows he can tell, based on the unamused expression on his face.
“I’ve read a lot of literature where there’s a female main character and she’s just used to state a point or some sort of backwards lesson that was considered modernized for the time,” Y/N speaks softly, picking at her nails in her lap, “I’m interested in studying that more.”
“What kind of literature?” Professor Styles instantly fires back.
“Well, I wrote my undergraduate thesis on The Scarlet Letter, but I’ve also been thinking about basing my graduate capstone on Ophelia from Hamlet.”
He makes that annoying humming noise again, and she’s still unsure if he’s pleased or thinks she’s an idiot. She wasn’t unused to the latter — a lot of snobs in the English department thought it was stupid of her to care for critiquing older pieces of writing from an argumentative, feminist perspective, even if they acted like The Odyssey was an “absolute must-read” for everyone.
(It’s not. Y/N thinks The Odyssey is dumb and boring, but she’ll never say that, especially not to Professor Styles.)
“Right, well,” he lifts a white ceramic coffee cup to his mouth and swallows briefly. She glances down to see he’s drinking hot black coffee, and her lips furl into a quick, involuntary wince. “You’ll be with me three days a week. You are to attend the daily lectures — Mondays and Wednesdays are the shorter section and Friday is the long, three-hour one. Helping out with grading and holding office hours will be your primary tasks. If you fall ill or need to take a day off, I need at least 24 hours notice. If I receive any complaints from students, you’re out. Otherwise, it should be a fine semester. Any questions?”
She shakes her head, hoping he’ll show some inkling of delight at her quick ability to understand and process. Instead, his lips remain in a flat line and he nods, taking another sip of his coffee.
“You can go now. See you tomorrow.”
She scrambles to leave his office as quickly as possible.
. . .
Professor Styles barely speaks to Y/N for the first few weeks.
It’s unsettling in a way, especially because she doesn’t know if she’s doing a good job. She thrives off of reassurance, but every time she hands him a neat stack of newly graded papers or drafts, he simply waves her off with an, “alright, thanks.”
If she’s being honest, it makes her want to try even harder, though she’s not entirely sure why. She has the urge to claw her way to the very top of Professor Styles’ repertoire of students and assistants — a need for perfectionism that can only be quelled by the person least likely to give it to her.
And it’s driving her absolutely insane.
She wants to ask, straight out, “am I doing an alright job? Do you need anything more from me?”, but she’s positive that will only make her glow with insecurity. He’d probably laugh in her face and call her a baby for needing his acceptance.
It eats her alive as she sits at the front of the lecture hall, watching his female students stare at him with hearts in their eyes as he discusses the politics of Ursula Le Guin. It bugs her only more than he's one of the most attractive people she's ever seen, always impeccably dressed with long, ring-clad fingers.
Grumbling, she realizes that she probably looks just as pathetic, so she quickly straightens her posture and runs her fingertips over the mousepad of her laptop so it glows back to life. She’s supposed to be going over the grades of the students’ first essays — her and Professor Styles were meeting after class to discuss them in the event that anyone needed additional assistance for the upcoming paper.
She busies herself with that until he ends class, creating a list of a few names that would potentially need to be met with one-on-one. He doesn’t say anything as he gathers his own materials from the lecture, and she follows him out of the hall and to his office just as silently, carrying her laptop in one hand and her tote bag on her shoulder.
Professor Styles’ office is always cold and dark, never failing to send a shiver down her spine when he unlocks the door. Today, her shoulders shudder involuntarily and she pushes her sweater sleeves down to cover her hands. With a rumple in his eyebrows, he sits down.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
Y/N snaps her head up in surprise. She doesn’t mean to look shocked, so she quickly revises her facial features in an attempt to look collected.
“Oh, it’s just cold,” she says, waving him off nonchalantly, “I’m fine.”
“Yeah. I think this winter has been especially brutal.”
His reply especially dazes her — she’s unsure if that’s an attempt at making small talk, something Professor Styles has never done with her before, but she instantly nods her head, as if she’s speaking with a toddler who’s expressing their emotions for the first time.
“Yeah, I think so,” she says softly, “The snow is awful to walk through.”
“Do you live far from campus?”
She shakes her head and sets her laptop and planner on her side of the desk, across from Professor Styles and his things.
“No, just a 10 minute walk or so, but I don’t have a car.”
He hums at that — that stupid, unassuming hum that contributes absolutely nothing to the conversation. She wonders if she’s in her head about it, but she feels his eyes linger just a beat longer on her face before tearing them away. He licks over his teeth as he taps on his laptop to wake it back up.
“Right, then. Did you go over their grades?”
As she pulls her things out from her bag, she tries to ignore the small pit of disappointment in her tummy from Professor Styles shifting their conversation back over to class.
. . .
That weekend, Y/N thinks she’s hallucinating as she meanders up and down the aisles at Target.
She’s not really looking for anything in particular. Sometimes she just comes here for something to do. Her bank account isn't exactly flowing in a way that permits her to buy all the cute home decor she gazes at, which is why her basket currently consists of the following: pads, a new pack of her favorite gel pens, cookie dough, and a lip balm that she’ll probably put back before she checks out.
It’s another harsh, cold day out, the freezing temperatures refusing to let up as the days of the month flit by. This is Y/N’s least favorite time of year — when winter sticks around despite the holidays being long gone. All that’s left between now and spring is pesky snow and fake Hallmark holidays, and she yearns for the days where she can walk to campus and admire the tulips peeking out from the damp soil. By then, she’ll be closer to returning to her hometown for the summer, where she’ll likely get a job for a few months working in the local library or bookstore.
It’ll be good — she’ll get to see her friends and spend time with family and save up some money, and maybe the hopefulness of life warming up in a few months will be enough to get her through this semester.
And as she’s daydreaming of brighter days, that’s when it happens — when she thinks she must be fully hallucinating, because as she strolls down one aisle in particular, Professor Styles is standing there, his bottom lip pinched between his fingers as he stares at space heaters.
She’s never seen him off campus. Sometimes that happens since a lot of professors live close by, so it’s not unheard of to pass by an advisor or faculty member at the supermarket or through the park. But seeing Professor Styles here feels… illegal, somehow, especially given his casual, dressed down attire. He’s wearing what looks to be a cozy sweatshirt and a pair of athletic shorts, despite the temperature nearing the 20s today. (Y/N is bundled up in three sweaters, a jacket, a scarf, gloves, and leggings beneath her jeans.) White socks go just above his ankles, and the running shoes on his feet make her wonder if he’s insane enough to actually be working out in this weather.
She must be analyzing his form for a beat too long — maybe it’s the shock from it that still hasn’t worn off — because he feels her gaze, eyes veering to his peripheral, realizing that his teaching assistant is standing there as if she’s waiting for permission to enter the aisle.
“Hey,” she blurts out when she realizes she’s been caught.
Confused by her frank, laidback greeting, he lifts his head to face her. “Hey.” he echoes awkwardly.
“Um, sorry.”
He quirks an eyebrow and Y/N’s body heats with embarrassment. “Sorry?”
“Sorry… I-I should’ve just walked away when I saw you,” Y/N quickly attempts to revise, but she realizes it’s just making her sound stupider, “I was just surprised to see you here.”
“In a public store?”
“Right,” she nods curtly, turning on her heel, “Have a good rest of your weekend—”
“Wait, did you need something down here?” he rushes out, almost as if he’s fearful she’ll leave. She pushes the thought down but parts her lips nervously, eyes scanning over the contents on the shelves. She doesn’t need anything, she was just putting off having to brave the cold weather on her walk home.
“Yes,” she says slowly because, once again, she’s suddenly stupefied and enamored by the prospect of small talk with Professor Styles, “I needed… lighters. For my candles.”
He nods, a quiet “ah,” sounding from his lips, and they stand there like they’re doing some sort of parallel play; Y/N pretending to look at the long, safety lighters while Professor Styles continues to look at space heaters. She wonders if he for some reason is pretending, too, but then he’ll squat down to look at the features on one box, making a tsk-ing noise with his mouth, and straighten back up to analyze a different model.
When he finally decides on an option that’s best fit, he grabs the box and places it in his cart. Quickly, Y/N plucks a random display of lighters and throws them in her basket.
“Hope you found a good one,” she mutters out dumbly, feeling the need to interject one last sentence into their silence. He glances down at his cart, then at her basket, and then, finally, at her.
“It’s for the office,” he says. “You said it was cold.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“This should help with that.”
“Sure, yeah. I have one at home, it helps a lot with the draftiness.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
“Maybe you can get an extra lamp in there, too. Spruce it up a bit.”
A wrinkle forms between his brows, “What do you mean?”
Y/N wishes the ground would swallow her up whole.
“Nothing! I just meant— like, sometimes it’s a bit cold, and with the weather, it can get dark, too. The winter’s tough, don’t you think? That’s all I meant, I’m sorry—”
“No, you’re right,” he says with a decisive nod. “You’re the only other person that really spends time there besides students. Do you want to help pick one out?”
“Sure, okay.”
They walk in silence to the lighting display, which is filled with a myriad of different options. Professor Styles looks semi-overwhelmed by it all and Y/N has to bite her lip so she doesn’t smile too widely at his confused expression. She points to a simple, inexpensive standing lamp.
“I think something like this would be good, in the corner or something. Just for some extra brightness.”
“Is that the one you like?”
Y/N doesn’t have strong lamp preferences, especially when it comes to a space that she’s not even living in, but for some reason, it seems important that she says yes. So she nods her head, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and she realizes that’s the first time he’s ever smiled at her.
“Okay. I’ll have this stuff set up for when you come in on Monday.”
She swallows, feeling the mountain of adoration in her stomach grow. She shoves it down.
“Thank you, that’s really kind of you,” she says.
“Sure. I’ll see you then. Have a good rest of your weekend.”
She hides in the lamp aisle for another 15 minutes, until she’s positive he’s left the store.
. . .
Professor Styles and Y/N are working in their typical silence when he says something that makes her jaw nearly drop to the floor.
She thought that after their short but personable interaction at the store, things would change a bit. Maybe he would feel more comfortable talking to her outside of monotone grunts or the occasional “are they failing my class?”, but things remained the same. When she came in that Monday, the space heater and lamp were both on and running as he promised, but it was as if nothing happened.
It irks Y/N to no end.
She assumes that he sincerely doesn’t care for her, which she supposes is fine considering kindness or approval aren’t part of the job description. That’s why she’s shocked when he says it a few weeks after the weekend they saw one another in public.
“I think you should ask to change your advisor to me.”
Y/N chokes on her spit, hurriedly coughing into her hand so she doesn’t spray saliva all over his desk. Once she recovers, he’s staring at her expectedly, as if what he said was completely and utterly sane.
“Sorry?” she asks, “Why would I do that?”
She doesn’t mean it to sound rude, but it’s a genuine question. Typically, there’s some type of rapport between a grad student and their advisor, and she and Professor Styles have absolutely none of that.
Professor Styles clears his throat and folds his hands on his desk. “Because I got my masters degree in the same thing, so I spent four years studying exactly what you’re studying. I think you’ve been doing very well as my TA and I would like to advise you.”
“Why would you ask me why I was studying that, then?” she blurts out, confusion apparent on her face. “The first day we met, you told me it was unusual.”
“It is.”
“But you studied it.”
“I did.”
“So why would you say that?”
Professor Styles sighs as if this is the most boring and obvious conversation he’s had all day.
“I wanted to hear you defend it. See why you’re interested and make sure it’s not all bullshit.”
Y/N shakes her head, “So you were playing some kind of mind game with me? For fun?”
“It wasn’t a mind game, Y/N. I just wanted to know why you’re interested in it.”
She bites her lip and looks down at her laptop screen, which has since gone dim since they began talking. If she’s being truthful, she’s grown tired of Professor Styles. Up until now, she was positive she was doing things wrong and he just didn’t care enough to correct her — only to find out that he wanted to work with her even more. It made zero sense.
“Are you going to do it, then?” he asks, tearing her from her thoughts. Her expression pinches as she rolls her lips into a thin line.
“I don’t know.” she answers in a watery voice. “I like my advisor, and I assumed you didn’t like me very much.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Why wouldn’t I like you?”
“You barely utter three words to me on a daily basis and never tell me if you’re happy with my work.”
Professor Styles scoffs, leaning back against his leather computer chair.
“You need regular approval from me to know whether or not I like you?”
“Yes,” she admits, anger building in her chest until she can’t help but blurt out what she’s thinking, “It’s how I work. If you were a good professor, you would’ve asked how I best function at the beginning of the semester. Instead, you ignore me for fun.”
“You don’t think I’m a good professor.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “I didn’t mean that. I think you are. I just don’t think you’re the best at managing teaching assistants.”
He shrugs, but she notices a slight wince in his features. “We can’t all be good at everything, can we?”
“Right,” she mumbles, drumming her fingers on the edge of his desk. When he doesn’t reply, she shuts her laptop and stuffs it in her bag. “I’m gonna go then. I’ll see you next week.”
He’s silent as she gets her things together and pulls her jacket on, wrapping her scarf around her neck and zipping it on top of her sweater for extra warmth. As her boots carry her across the length of his office and to the door, he stands from his seat.
“Y/N,” he says, and she turns to look at him. “The deadline to change your advisor is next Friday. I hope you’ll still consider it.”
. . .
That evening, all Harry can think about is his sweet, quiet TA. The one who he undoubtedly offended earlier today — he cringes at the thought of it, replaying their conversation over and over in his head. He can’t stop thinking about the upset look on her face. When she asked if he was playing mind games with her, he wanted to get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. He never meant to hurt her, not one bit.
He sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. He’s had reruns of some shitty sitcom on since he got home from work a few hours ago. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, but even a laugh track and ‘90s era merriment couldn’t distract him from thinking about her.
He considers the things she said about wanting his approval. He’s never been well-liked in the English department, likely because of his rough exterior. He’s not immune to the things he hears from students and faculty, about how he’s grumpy and someone to be feared, even if he didn’t even intend to come off that way. In all honesty, he never wanted to be perceived in that matter — but once his reputation began to precede him a year or two ago, he figured there was no use in trying to convince people otherwise.
That's how it had always gone, anyway — in high school, when he started experimenting with different styles of clothing, everyone assumed he was gay. He'd desperately tried to refute those claims, even if he wasn't completely sure of his sexuality himself. But no one cared — they'd already made up their minds, and it seemed useless to attempt to change their ways of thinking.
And when people spoke here, mumbling about how mean and terrible he was... well, what was the point?
Y/N was the only person he cared to win over, and it was eating him alive.
So much so that he made the blind decision to maybe, possibly cross a very clear boundary between professor and TA. Despite Y/N being of legal, consenting age (after looking at her student file, he found that he’s only four years older), he still attempted to prioritize maintaining a professional relationship with every one of his students and TAs.
He couldn’t help himself with her, though. He knew it was bad — he could feel his heart thumping quickly in his chest, the logical part of his brain telling him to stop while he’s ahead, but he couldn’t. Not as he grabbed his laptop, logged into his work email, and composed a message to her student address. Not when his fingers danced over the keyboard and resisted the urge to implore her to start fresh with him. Not when he clicked ‘send’ without even proofreading to make sure it sounded appropriate, not creepy or weird.
He pushed his laptop away and got up to pour himself some wine, attempting to rid himself of any lingering guilt.
. . .
From: [email protected]
Subject: Today
Time: 9:57 p.m.
Hi Y/N,
I wanted to apologize for how I acted today. It wasn’t kind of me and you deserve far better than that. I understand if you have no interest in changing your advisor. Please know that whatever you decide, your TA position will not be in danger, should you choose to continue working with me.
Thank you for all of your hard work. You’ve been doing an excellent job and I’ve very much enjoyed having you this semester. Have a good weekend.
x Harry Styles
. . .
On Monday, Y/N’s mind is whirring.
It’s not because the semester is nearing midterm season, although that’s part of it. It’s because Professor Styles emailed her an apology at almost 10 pm on Friday evening, and she’s repeatedly read it over at least 50 times since receiving it.
She didn’t reply because she wasn’t sure what to say — and, most shockingly, he didn’t sign it as Professor Styles. Instead, he ended the message with a kiss, for crying out loud, followed by his name. His name!
It’s all she’s been able to focus on for days, to the point where she contemplates not showing up to his lecture on Monday. But she’s better than that — she’s stronger, and she’s smarter, and she doesn’t want to hide.
She avoids Professor Styles’ gaze all throughout his lecture, instead focusing on grading first drafts for the class’ midterm paper. She knows she’ll have to sit with him in his office afterwards, and her stomach churns at the thought. In some way, she feels ashamed that she said anything to begin with. Her comments about him not managing TAs properly have made her shrivel into a mortified version of herself, and she’s shocked he didn’t fire her on the spot.
Worst of all, she hates the way her heart jumped into her throat when his name popped up on her screen on Friday night. She craved the feeling, hoping he would, for some reason, do it again, even though she never responded. She wasn’t playing hard to get by any means, but the fact that her brain even veered in that direction proved one thing to be true: she has a big, fat crush on Professor Styles.
The knowledge sits like a rock in her stomach, especially as they walk in silence to his office after class. The air between them feels awkward, but she’s not sure that there’s ever been a time where it hasn’t felt odd between them. When he unlocks the door, she quietly steps inside, her heart skipping a beat at the space heater and lamp already turned on.
Usually, he keeps the door open while they work. Today, he shuts it, the soft click of the lock making her jump.
“Can we talk?”
Y/N’s throat dries but she nods, gripping the strap of her tote bag close to her arm. She turns to face him, and for the first time ever, she notices that he looks… nervous.
“About last week. I’m sorry, but I’m even more sorry for emailing you that on Friday,” he rushes the words out like he wrote a script out and was waiting to perform them, “It was completely inappropriate, and I got the hint when you didn’t reply.”
“The hint?” she peeps out, her voice squeaky and embarrassing.
“Yeah,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “About not wanting me to advise you and… you probably found my email to be weird, right?”
Quickly, she shakes her head. “No, no. I.. I actually haven’t given much thought to the advisor thing, but I didn’t think it was weird. I just didn’t know how to respond.”
His eyebrows furrow, “Why’s that?”
“Because I felt guilty about what I said to begin with! A-and you could’ve fired me if you wanted to, but instead you apologized and said that I’m doing a good job—”
“You are.”
“Exactly!” she exclaims frustratedly. “I didn’t know how to respond to that.”
“To me being… kind?”
“Yes.”
He blinks at her, the crinkle between his brows deepening.
“I’m just not used to it, Professor Styles.” she says with a sigh.
“Harry,” he corrects.
“What?”
“My name is Harry. I don’t want you to call me Professor Styles.”
Y/N ignores the quickening of her heartbeat and shifts her stance from foot to foot.
“Why are you doing this?” she eventually blurts as she crosses her arms over her sweater-clad form. She’s not sure if she detects an inkling of pity in his face, but if she does, she wants nothing more than to run for the hills and never return. For some reason, the thought of Professor— Harry feeling bad for her makes her shoulders shudder, a prickly sensation tip-toeing down her spine, as if shame is completely and utterly eating her alive.
His lips part in a quiet sigh. “I just… I spent the weekend thinking of you and feeling awful for the way I’ve treated you.”
Thinking of you.
I spent the weekend thinking of you.
Her stomach turns as his words echo throughout the chambers of her brain. But then there’s a click — like the second part of the sentence just ekes its way through, planting a seed of self-doubt and insecurity. And she backs away like he may explode at any moment.
“You shouldn’t— no, that’s alright,” she shakes her head, gaze set low on the carpeted floors of his tiny office.
“Y/N—”
Again, she cuts him off with a shake of her head, raising her eyes to look at him. His expression is pained and she wonders if hers is any better, though she assumes for different reasons: He doesn’t want to get fired for torturing another grad student. She has an inappropriate crush on the professor she works for.
“It’s all good. Call it even?” she rushes out, leaning over to grab her things from her chair, “Fresh start on Wednesday. Don’t mention it again, alright?”
She’s gone before he can stop her.
. . .
Harry accidentally falls asleep in his office that evening.
It’s half because he’s absolutely swamped with work, too fearful to email Y/N and add things to her grading pile after the way she all but ran away earlier today. He’s terrified he made her uncomfortable.
He doesn’t want to return to the quiet loneliness of his apartment, where he’s constantly faced to force the reality of his life: A man in his early 30s with a job that he likes, but no one actually likes him at it. His entire family resides in London and with the exception of a few friends from his schooling years, he’s alone. Especially in the romance department.
His heart aches for Y/N. He realizes it’s a bit dramatic, even slightly taboo given the nature of their professional relationship, but he likes her. He likes her so much that he doesn’t want to go home and think about how badly he messed things up, so he falls asleep face-down on his desk, his cranium wedged between piles of pens and a Post-It list of to-do’s.
When he wakes up, he doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for. The soft, golden light from the lamp is still just barely bathing the circumference of the room, but as he blinks his eyes open, he realizes that it’s silent. He can see through the small frosted window that the hallways are dim, which means it’s most definitely sometime in the evening.
He feels… somewhat guilty but charged as he wakes from the fog of his sleep, eyebrows furrowing as he stretches his arms out. His neck already aches from the discomfort of his sleeping position and he groans, lifting a palm to sort the knot out.
And that’s when he realizes it — why he feels as if his body is buzzing, his hands sweaty and his throat dry. He’d woken up in the middle of a sex dream and, like a pathetic teenager, the star of it had been his crush. Y/N.
He scoffs to himself as he glances down at his crotch where, sure enough, his length is painfully hard beneath the constriction of his trousers and underwear. He swallows, eyes flickering closed. He can remember the exact details of his dream, even if they send a bead of guilt dripping down his chest — they’d been in his office, just like this. She was between his legs, knees pressing into the carpet of the floor, her eyes rounded and expectant as he toyed with her, pretending to guide his cock between her lips only to take it away at the last minute. She pouted every time, a plushy lipped-frown punctuating the words he hadn’t even realized he’d been dying to hear: “Please Professor Styles, stop teasing me.”
At the realization, he’s sent into a frenzy. He doesn’t even think to check whether the door is locked (or maybe if he’s locked in the building, no less), before he’s clawing at his belt and zipper, yanking the fabrics down to reveal a pair of swollen balls. His length stands hard, his eyes nearly rolling back just from the feeling of looping his fingers around the base. He can’t remember the last time he was this pent up just from his own imagination, but it’s not a difficult place to return — not as his head leans back against his office chair, allowing his dream to pick up and take form in full consciousness.
So much pre-cum is bubbling at the tip that he doesn’t need much of his own spit to lubricate himself. He bites his lip hard to prevent himself from groaning out too loudly, envisioning the way she’d finally suckle around the tip of his cock, looking up at him with proud eyes. He’d gradually help her go deeper, but she’d be excited, willing to bruise her throat for him. She was so good — in his dreams, in real life, she was always so, so good.
“So good, Professor,” she’d pant out, popping off to lick a stripe up the side of his cock. With spit-swollen lips, she’d venture down to his balls, rolling them in the palm of her hands before taking each one into her mouth. In reality, he gasps at that, tugging them in his own hand.
But what really gets him there is an impossible thought — one that has nothing to do with the silly wet dream his brain conjured while he slept. Her in her own bedroom, her naked form wrapped up in her sheets while he gazed over lovingly, pressing soft kisses along her shoulder and down her arm. She’d giggle breathily before flipping onto her side to face him. And she’d say it — I love you — and it’d feel like heaven.
That’s what pushes him to finish all over his hand, cum dribbling over his fist as he pants and gasps like he’s just discovered masturbation. His orgasm encompasses his entire body, a few beautiful, peaceful moments of complete pleasure that causes all of his muscles to tighten deliciously. Of course, he envisions her taking all of his cum, licking it up eagerly over his digits, making a show of it — she’d open her mouth, pretty pink tongue out, and he’d watch as she swallows. He shudders at the thought of it, quickly snapping his eyes open and grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk to clean himself up. He’s immediately back to his grumbly state as he does, irritated that he allowed himself to lose control in such a finite way.
He tosses the dirty tissue in the garbage can and stands up to tug his briefs and pants back up. The clink of his belt buckle is the only sound throughout the small room, so he jumps when a knock sounds on the other side of his closed door.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, someone knows, I must have said her name, I’m such a fucking freak—
His eyes widen when the person speaks: “Profess— Harry? Are you in there? It’s Y/N.”
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daryl doesn’t think he’s anything special. he never has. but to you? he’s everything.
or
5 times daryl feels your affection down to his core and the many 1 time he unconsciously returns the favor.
cw: 18+ MDNI, p-in-v, mention of injury, swearing, mostly fluff, 4283 words
a/n: this draft got the most votes in the poll, which was surprising tbh! next up medieval au, princess reader, forbidden romance?? hmmmm
one.
daryl hears you coming before he sees you. he knows it’s on purpose, so you don’t startle him (“and get an arrow in the tit or something, i don’t know!” you had explained, laughing). he’s long since taught you how to be quiet when walking over leaves and branches.
his eyes drifted in the direction of the noise, watching you melt out of the trees, water bottle in one hand and knife in the other. you had a bad habit of speeding through or ignoring your own duties in favor of tracking him out into the woods while he was hunting. the teasing looks from rick and carol when they saw the gates open in the evening, revealing the two of you instead of just him, were enough to have him blushing up to his ears, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop you. if anything, daryl found himself lingering closer to the prison when he was first setting out for the day and making his tracks a little easier for you to follow as he went on. he liked to think of it as a teaching moment, encouraging you to follow his lessons, but he knew what it really was.
he liked having you here with him, away from prying eyes and ears. daryl wasn’t big on pda, he’d never been, and you knew that, but you could be as affectionate as you wanted out here.
the smile that split you face when you saw daryl was blinding, creasing your eyes and cheeks, “hey, handsome.”
daryl felt his heart start to pound immediately in his chest and warmth radiate through his belly and down his limbs. he had the distant, bizarre thought that any walker for a few miles would probably be able to smell his blood as it rose rapidly to his face, coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
he scoffed quietly to keep the words he really wanted to say from spilling unbidden from his throat as you caught up to him, instead deadpanning, “handsome? really?”
you hummed, raising a hand to card through his long bangs, eyes tender when they met his, “mhm, very handsome. don’t i tell you every day?”
you leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, no longer than a moment. you hand drifted from his hair down to cup his jaw as you did, and daryl found himself leaning into your palm, his own hand coming up to grip your wrist loosely.
you pulled away with a smaller, more intimate smile, one that daryl had only ever seen directed at him. and, if you had felt the pounding of his heart through his shirt or seen the intensity of his flush, you didn’t say a word.
two.
daryl was distracted.
this council meeting was dragging on much longer than intended. what was initially supposed to be a quick conversation about planning a run to get supplies for judith and a few of the other kids had turned into a heated debate about possibly opening up the council to a few of the people from woodbury. he could understand why. there was still a stark divide between their group and the new people, but daryl had been content to sit back and let the situation mend itself, so long as it didn't escalate.
the discussion was split down the middle. or.. maybe there were more in favor of maintaining the current council? daryl couldn’t tell because he couldn’t focus and he couldn’t focus because every time he tried to lock in on the conversation, he could feel your fingers brush over his knuckles.
earlier, when the meeting started, you had sat yourself right next to daryl, reached under the table, and grabbed his hand where it was resting on his knee. no fanfare, no lovesick gazes, just your fingers intertwined with his calloused ones like they belonged there. which, he mused to himself, maybe they do.
and so there your hand had remained as the meeting went on. every so often, you would brush your fingers lightly over his knuckles, or give his fingers a squeeze if you happened to catch his eyes… which would lead to you chuckling quietly to yourself when his neutral expression would warm over with a blush.
the meeting had been going on for at least an hour. god.
“daryl, what do you think?”
glenn’s voice cut through daryl’s thoughts like a knife. he jerked a little, almost dislodging your hand when he looked across the table, meeting the expectant stares of the council.
“uhh,” he grunted eloquently, “‘bout bringin’ some of them folks on?”
hershel nodded expectantly, his voice thoughtful, “don’t you think we could afford their input? after all, this is their home now just as much as it is ours.”
your fingers brushed again over his knuckles and daryl willed himself not to lose focus. not to allow his mind to run on with thoughts about the softness of your fingers and how much he liked the feeling of your palm against his. how comfortable-
no.
daryl blinked and cleared his throat, “we don’ even have rick on the council right now, i’on think it’s a good idea.”
glenn nodded along with maggie and, reluctantly a moment later, hershel did too, though his mouth had settled into a thin frown.
daryl felt your hand squeeze his twice, taking it as a nonverbal ‘good job!’, and paused only a moment before squeezing back his own nonverbal ‘thank you’. he saw a small smile flit across your face out the corner of his eye.
before the debate could start up again, you were leaning forward and speaking up, saying, “alright, let’s table this for next time then. the run is already planned for the baby stuff, so—?”
hershel’s eyes swept across the table and he nodded, “meeting adjourned, i suppose.”
three.
the woods were clear as daryl looked out over the gate. he could see everything from the watchtower, as was intended, but for once the calm darkness was not a comfort.
instead, every moment that passed heightened the panic that had been swirling in his gut since earlier that evening.
it had been roughly fourteen hours since you had left on a run with glenn and maggie. there was a small gas station a little ways out that looked to be mostly untouched, and you had been pulled to fill in daryl’s usual slot since he was already slated to go hunting.
he was regretting it now, though, as he continued to watch the road leading up to the gate for any sign of maggie’s headlights.
while the general rule of thumb was to be back to the prison before dark, everyone knew that sometimes shit happens, whether it be walkers appearing at the worst possible time, or not being able to secure the haul. hell, shit happened more often than it didn't, as far as daryl was concerned.
maybe the haul had been much larger than the three of you had planned for, and you had to hide some of it away for a return trip.
maybe y'all had come across a herd large enough to block the car's path and had to find a way around it to get home without leading them back behind you.
maybe the gas station had been a bust all together and you’d gone further out in hopes of not returning empty handed.
the thoughts swimming through his mind sent daryl pacing across the small area of the watchtower. back and forth he went, eyes flashing over to the gate of the prison every few seconds.
“you’re gonna wear out your shoes like that.”
oh right. daryl isn’t even on watch, not officially at least. he’d joined carol a little after the sun went down and been up here ever since.
carol continues on despite his brooding silence, “they’re okay. something probably held them up, it happens.”
daryl turned to face carol, scrubbing a hand down his face. he opening his mouth to respond, but before he could, the sound of wheels crunching across gravel made him whip back around.
he barely registered that it was maggie’s car before he was yanking the floor hatch open and climbing down. rick, who’d been poking around the farm despite the late hour, unwilling to admit his own anxiety, was already pulling the gate open to let the car in.
daryl stopped further up the hill to meet you, and, as soon as you popped the lock on your door, he was tugging it open with one hand and reaching for you with the other.
you went willingly, a sheepish smile on your face as you let him turn you this way and that, checking for any injuries or bites, neither of which you had.
“sorry i’m late, handsome,” you whispered, “i didn’t mean to worry you.”
daryl grunted in response, resisting the urge to press himself against you and feel your heart beat against his skin. he understood that you were capable, and that you had lasted just as long in the apocalypse as he had, but he can't help but wonder if he'll ever get used to this, or if he'll spend any moment you aren't within his reach on the edge of a panic attack.
by then, rick had made his way up the hill to the car and was helping unload their findings from the boot. all things considered, the three of you had brought back a pretty decent amount of stuff.
“everyone alright?” rick questioned, eyes skirting over the contents of the trunk to scan the three of you instead. "what held y'all up?"
maggie shook her head with a smile, “nothing like that. we found a good bit at that gas station, but there was a map of a small trailer park a little ways away, and we thought it was better to go for it while we were right down the road.”
“and we had the space anyway. didn’t make sense to waste a second trip, but it took a little longer to search than we thought,” you added. you had turned to face the group and, under the cover of the dark, you leaned back just slightly into daryl’s side.
carol, who had followed daryl down from the watchtower, hummed, and rick nodded thoughtfully. they both followed behind maggie and glenn, grabbing as much as they could carry from the car and heading up to deposit it for sorting tomorrow.
now alone, daryl took a moment to breathe you in, but he was moving soon as well, heading for the trunk to grab what was left.
he didn’t notice you coming up next to him until he felt your fingers slipping into his pocket.
“found something for you,” you said quietly, standing at his side.
daryl patted his pocket, feeling the dented box of what he assumed to be cigarettes and looked over at you, brows furrowed in confusion.
“i noticed you ran out the other day,” you answered his unasked question, a small smile lifting your cheeks, “combed through every trailer looking for ‘em.”
with that, you turned away from him and back to the trunk.
daryl stood speechless, his heart building up to that rapid thrum he only seemed to feel in your presence.
you had brought something back for him. had spent the daylight rummaging through dirty trailers on the off chance that you’d find a pack of cigarettes to replace his empty one that he himself hadn't even bothered to go searching to replace.
he wanted to think he didn’t understand why you would do something like this, why you would care, but he did. he’d done the same for you, time and time again on the road, if only to see you smile. he understood exactly why.
“‘preciate it,” he grunted, thankful that the darkness surrounding you kept his blush from being too obvious.
you hummed in acknowledgment, and daryl could your small smile growing out the corner of his eye.
four.
having sex in the prison was no easy feat, mostly due to the lack of privacy. a sheet could only provide so much, and even then it did nothing for the noise echoing constantly off the concrete walls.
as far as most were concerned, maggie and glenn had found the best spot early on, making the most unused watchtower their designated private retreat, but you and daryl knew otherwise.
deep in the tombs, which were no longer a threat as they had long since been cleared and sealed, there were a few tucked away offices that had sat empty even after the woodbury residents had been moved in. noise didn’t escape the tombs, and no one ever just wandered in, especially not in the middle of the night, so despite the cell that you and daryl shared, you both much preferred spending your more intimate moments here.
well, daryl did. you weren’t picky, and could be quiet when you really tried, but it made daryl more comfortable.
he’d like to think it was just because he was wary of any listening ears, especially with all the children roaming around, but he knew the truth of his resolve.
daryl had never been a selfish man, and certainly not after the world fell. everything he had, everything he was, he would give to his family in a heartbeat.
but this.. this was just for him.
your body arched beautifully under his, legs falling open to accommodate his weight settling against you. daryl’s hand left your heat, fingers dripping with wetness, to squeeze your hips, using them to guide you as your moved against him.
you were already bare, both of you having stripped each other of your clothes between heated kisses while you stumbled in the office. you hadn’t even made it to the double-stacked cot in the corner, daryl instead pushing you firmly down on the dusty desk and leaning in to mouth at your neck.
you moaned under him now, a breathy sigh of his name, and the sound sent a shiver down daryl’s spine.
“needy girl,” he grunted teasingly, reaching down to grasp his hardness. he dragged the head of his cock up your slit, collecting your wetness and smearing it over your clit.
your head knocked back against the desk and a loud groan burst out of your throat. your knees tried to close around daryl’s waist as if to keep him away, but you arms came up to wrap around him, pulling him closer to your body, and he leaned into you willingly.
your voice trembled when you spoke into his ear, want dripping from every syllable, “please, baby. need you inside me so bad.”
and god, daryl wanted to make you beg for it. he wanted to wait until he could see the desperation in your eyes and then wait some more, but he couldn’t. not when you looked so pretty spread out beneath him and your hands were petting over his shoulders and neck just how he liked. he almost thought you were doing it on purpose, but he knew better. this was just you.
you couldn’t stay off him when he was in you, always tugging at his hair or rubbing his chest, hands scrabbling for any skin you could reach. it used to send him reeling, flustered and blushing bright, but now he looked forward to it. he could feel the want in your touches like physical imprints of your affection.
daryl pushed into your slowly, groaning deep in his chest. your slick walls felt heavenly around him, but daryl was more focused on you right now.
soft whimpers fell from your lips as your hands drifted over his sweat slicked skin. daryl’s thrusts were slow but purposeful, and he ignored your legs squeezing around his waist, trying to urge him to speed up.
“relax, peach,” he soothed, hands drifting up and down your sides in pace with his thrusts, “i’ma take care of you.”
“kiss, please,” you whispered, voice floating past daryl’s ear. he would have missed it if you weren’t pressed together like this.
daryl would not describe himself as a selfish man. he might have had his moments in the past, but now, with the dead walking and a prison full of survivors to protect, it was virtually out of the question.
but as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, feeling your hands finally make their way up into his long strands, daryl thought that he might be a possessive man.
he’d sooner spread you out deep in the woods than have you where anyone could see you like this or hear the noises you make.
no, daryl thought, tongue sliding in your mouth to tangle with yours, this would always be just for him.
five.
daryl came into awareness slowly and then all at once. he startled, trying to sit up, but a searing pain made itself known in his abdomen. the pain clouded his senses, blooming out across his torso and down his limbs. he flops uselessly, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him.
hearing bits of voices above him, daryl wills himself to focus. he’s hurt, obviously, and it’s pretty fucking bad, but he’ll have to suck it up and figure out a way home if he’s in bad company.
the voices start to filter in. the volume makes his temples throb in rhythm with his abdomen and his heart as the situation starts to force adrenaline through his body.
“—harder! put more pressure on it!”
daryl relaxes just a bit. that’s rick. frantic, angry, but rick all the same.
“what the fuck do you think i’m doing?!” the other voice, higher, snarls in response, “just drive the damn truck!”
and daryl feels his body try to relax all together. he would recognize your voice in his sleep, and this milky haze of pain is no different. he can feel your hands pressing a wad of something soft into his abdomen.
he can hear your panicked breaths and feel the way your fingers flex continuously against his skin. whatever’s wrong with him must be bad, and it definitely hurts like hell, but daryl takes comfort in the weight of your body against his. you won’t let anything happen to him if you can help it, you’d sworn that fiercely, and if you can’t help it then he doesn’t think anyone could have.
daryl can just barely make out the creaking of the gate being pulled open over the sound of rick laying on the horn.
as they pull in, the gravel of the path rocks the truck and daryl feels the ache in his abdomen bloom again, distracting him from his thoughts, but here, knowing he’s safe and back with his family, he allows himself to drift away.
—
this time, when daryl comes into awareness, the first thing he feels is fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently as if to untangle a couple of knots and snarls.
without even opening his eyes he knows it’s you. he can feel the heat of your body settled next to him and smell the soap you like to bathe with. daryl leans towards you, chasing the warmth of your hand against his skin.
the bandages on his stomach are wrapped tight, but it’s more annoying than anything and the pain has finally, thankfully, subsided to a dull ache. daryl stretches on the cot, trying to loosen him limbs from their inactivity, but what he focuses on is your fingers immediately pulling away.
“daryl?” your voice prods quietly, “you awake?”
he opens his eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight that streams through the bars of the cell. the privacy sheet isn’t down, actually there’s no sheet at all, daryl notes as he looks out. he must be in one of the cells near hershel’s.
“‘m up,” he grumbles, a cough working its way out of his throat. before he can attempt to clear the dryness, you’re standing to grab a bottle of water off some boxes stacked nearby and pressing it into his hand.
your fingers linger against his wrist as you pull away, but you’re resuming your previous position anyway, in a chair brought right up to his bedside.
daryl hasn’t sat up yet, staring instead at you as one of your hands return to his hair and the other rubs down his arm.
a few quiet moments pass before you speak again, head bowed and voice a little choked, “we almost lost you. i almost lost you.”
“didn’t though,” daryl croaks. he feels your grip tighten on his arm and just knows. knows that you’ve been sitting right here every moment that you could since he went down. knows that you probably haven’t had your hands off him. knows you’ve spent the time, however long it’s been, agonizing over what went wrong and how to keep it from happening ever again. he knows.
“i didn’t,” you agree with a barely restrained sniffle. you refuse to allow the tears beading your waterline to fall, but daryl sees them all the same.
oddly, he feels that familiar warmth blossom in his chest. he hates to see you upset, but to see your love, your heart laid so bare for him? daryl thinks he can finally understand the depth of your affections.
plus one.
to anybody who knew what to look for, it was obvious that you and daryl were.. something.
you remembered when the woodbury residents had really began to settle in, how they began to whisper about ‘the hunter and his lady’.
it had confused you at first. the group knew, of course, nothing could be kept a secret from them for too long, but for strangers? it was odd, given that you weren’t very public with your affections.
regardless, with an entire prison to secure and almost triple the amount of people to provide for, it was nothing to think too hard about. there was always something that needed to be done or something bigger to think about. you couldn't afford to think about it now.
eventually, though, you ended up mentioning it to carol, and the older woman had laughed, a teasing edge to her smile as she considered you.
“i think it has less to do with you and more with him, if i’m being honest,” she said.
“more to do with.. daryl?” you said slowly, raising an incredulous eyebrow, “nah, no way.”
carol hummed, her smile turning knowing, “just watch. he’s more affectionate than he gives himself credit for.”
you’d left the conversation feeling like carol had no idea what she was talking about. later that evening, though, when you were sitting with the group for dinner and daryl was sliding a couple pieces of meat from his plate to yours despite your multiple protests, you understood.
your face must have been the textbook picture of a lightbulb going off because carol sent you a wink from across the table, lips twitching like she was hiding a laugh.
it wasn’t that the woodbury residents were over analyzing the very minimal physical affection that passed between you and daryl in a day, no. instead they were observing his quieter, more unconscious actions.
they saw the way that daryl always took care to come and find you before leaving for a run, even if it meant holding everyone up a little.
and how every so often they could find daryl sharpening a knife that was far too small for him to be wielding safely while you sat nearby, watching with a grateful smile.
and how whenever you were in the same room, you always had his eye. daryl had been adamant about keeping you within his sights while you were on the road, and the habit hadn’t left him just because you were behind walls now.
even now, months later, the newer additions to the prison were starting to catch on quicker and quicker.
they overheard daryl talking to glenn about taking your place on the run later today because you’d overdone it in the sun earlier and he wanted you to get some rest.
they saw you gush excitedly every time daryl brought you back any kind of gift, whether it be a pretty rock that he thought you’d like, or your favorite animal to cook into the stew.
they watched him watch the road every time you left for a run, regardless of who was with you, and also saw him come back to be the first to greet you when you returned if he could help it.
daryl was a quiet lover and a private man if you didn’t know what to look for, but if you did, you’d see that his affections ran just as deep as yours.
your thoughts brought a sleep smile to your face as you stretched out on the cot in your shared cell, waiting for daryl to shut off the lantern on your makeshift nightstand in the corner.
you could barely make him out in the dark, but the weight of him settling in next to you sent you right into his arms, your head pillowed on his chest while his arms came up to wrap around your back.
you tilted your head up to place a small kiss to the bottom of his jaw, mumbling a quiet, “love you.”
daryl’s arms tightened around you momentarily before loosening again. you felt him lean down to press a kiss to your hair in turn.
just over the steady thumping of his heart against your ear, you could hear him whisper back, “love you too.”
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The Arrangement (10) - A New Way
Chapter summary: Astarion always find a way back to you even in the midst of all the chaos.
Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav
Warnings: 18+. Sexual frustration. Jealous Astarion. Protective Astarion. Fingering. Masturbation. Cumplay. Innuendo. Body worship.
Word count: 7.3k
Author's note: Tumblr isn't allowing me to reply to comments ever since I changed my @... already contacted support. I am not ignoring you guys *deep sigh*
Ao3
Series Masterlist
Rivington had its fair share of taverns and inns sprawled across its busy and lively streets. It was surely a welcome change from the grim and daunting sense of dread that loomed over you when travelling across the shadowlands.
As such, the group had split to indulge in some brief moments of well deserved and welcome repose before finally reaching Baldur’s Gate.
Astarion sat across from you, subtlety eyeing his surroundings as you happily sipped your apple juice.
The sun had yet to reach its peak but the tavern was already crawling with drunkards and unpleasant crowds.
“We shouldn’t linger.” Astarion mused with arms crossed.
You nodded. “I’m nearly done.”
As much as you wished to forget about the troubling matters that haunted you, it was evident that your presence was earning some unwanted curious stares from a few onlookers.
He suddenly reached for the pouch at his hip, withdrawing a piece of fabric before extending his hand to you.
“Here.”
You took it in your hand, briefly admiring its silky texture of the handkerchief as shades of teal and green swirled together in mesmerising patterns.
Then your fingers found golden letters sewn along one corner.
Your name.
Your heart was clenched tight as you traced each letter in absolute awe.
“Astarion, this is…”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, think nothing of it, darling. You’re often covered in blood and sweat and Gods know what other fluids,” he said with a curt smile. “I figured you might as well look stylish whilst wiping that pretty face of yours.”
There he was.
So easily crawling under your skin with his words and now with such a thoughtful gift that fully displayed his artistry and exceptional needlework.
A lump in your throat held your words back.
Maybe he didn’t consider this gesture all that relevant or even worthy of a lingering thought, but you did.
This was a silent extension of him.
Now you’d have him by your heart at all times.
But the moment was cut short as a loud bang rippled across your table.
A man reeking of cheap mead cackled loudly at you. He was swaying so violently it was an incredible feat that he was able to stand on both feet without losing balance.
“Oi! Aren’t you that gal from a few years ago who did magic tricks?”
Your blood ran cold at once and your insides twisted into several knots.
“I don’t think so.” you said, focusing your gaze on the drink in front of you.
You didn’t recognise him, but you silently prayed he would just drop the matter and leave.
Instead, he hiccuped. “N-No! It is you! I would never forget such a face.”
Your eyes met Astarion’s momentarily as he narrowed his crimson eyes at the loud drunkard, and you reckoned he was close to intervening.
You mustered your strength. “No. It’s not me.”
But the man was insistent as he was drunk.
He banged a hand on the wooden surface once more. “What? You are the one whose mother–”
The flash of a dagger pierced through your field of vision, landing right between the man’s fingers, the blade pressed menacingly against his thumb.
“She said ‘no’,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes flaring with contempt. “Should I teach you the meaning of the word?”
The man shuddered and cowered in fear as he strolled away as fast as his wobbly steps would allow.
But Astarion had overdone it and had simultaneously caused many heads to turn your way, voices whispering as people tried to make out what the fuss was all about.
“We’ve overstayed our welcome,” he said, sheathing his dagger as he stood up.
You remained frozen in place, still taken aback by the words the man had spewed at you.
Your mind had been kept too busy to dive back into the memories of your mother, and to dwell on what had happened so many years ago.
A shudder spread across your entire body as the sense of dread gripped you.
You felt his hand nudge your shoulder. “Now’s not the time for daydreaming, sweetheart.”
And he quickly tugged at your arm, pulling you up on your feet before the two of you scurried along the tavern and earning heavy glares.
You made it out just in time as two Fists crossed paths with you on their way inside, trying to disperse the crowd that had gathered around the entryway.
“What was that all about?” Astarion asked as soon as you were able to blend in with the passers-by.
“Nothing.”
Your mouth had gone awfully dry even though you had downed most of your apple juice, replenishing your hydration level.
He stared at you, raising a brow inquisitively. “He did actually know you, didn’t he?”
You met his gaze in a silent warning. “He must have had me confused with someone else.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, but I will not pry. We all have secrets to bear.”
You nodded, thankful for his understanding remark.
There was no point in lying to him. He could always see right through your silly attempts at deception.
“Just know that you can come to me should you need to air them out,” he added. “I know all too well how buried secrets always find a way to crawl to the surface – one way or another.”
It was a glaring testament to how he had come to terms with opening up to someone else.
He had come far in that regard and you felt proud of him.
A faint smile settled on your lips, but it faded just as quickly once realisation hit you.
“Wait!” you said, gripping his arm. “The handkerchief – I left it there. Let me–”
He patted your back. “Leave it, darling. Unless you fancy starting a tavern brawl, that is.”
Your heart dropped.
“But…”
“I will embroider you a new one.”
But he never did.
There was no point in lying to Astarion.
You were very well aware of this.
He would spot your deceit faster than a hawk could tail its prey.
But the dreadful sense of impending doom had rooted you to the sofa.
This couldn’t all just be a coincidence.
By the time the two of you had reached the room, Gale and Lae’zel had already vanished through a portal to Waterdeep to assess the situation.
“All we can do for now is wait.” Astarion said, adjusting his shirt.
Shadowheart scoffed. “This is all very odd. It’s as if something is at work against us.”
You nodded. “I agree.”
“Are the two of you in some competition to see who’s the most dramatic?” he said with a click of his tongue. “Honestly, we know nothing about what happened. Maybe his contact succumbed to self-inflicted boredom – a running theme amongst wizards.”
His sense of humour would have been welcome under different circumstances, but you were on the brink of freaking out.
“Maybe I could cast Arcane Gate and help out…” you said in a restless tone, feeling nauseous.
But the mage slayer outside kept your magic levels too low for you to successfully cast a level six conjuration spell, so it was not even an option.
Astarion immediately snorted as he joined your side. “Perish the thought. I don’t think it’d be wise to do such a thing given your condition. You might open a portal to some place infested with murderous creatures, and then I’ll have to jump in to rescue you.”
Shadowheart, who had been pacing worriedly across the room, came to an immediate halt. “What condition?”
You rubbed your temples as if it would magically dissipate the gnawing headache.
“I had too much to drink last night.”
Shadowheart’s accusatory stare immediately landed on Astarion. “What did you do?”
He scoffed dramatically. “Excuse me? I am well aware that pinning the blame on me is a recurring activity in this group, but I had nothing to do with this.”
You groaned with a wince. “Please keep your voices down…”
Shadowheart rushed to lower herself by your feet until she could eye-level with you. “Are you all right?”
No.
And it had little to do with the aftermath of your alcohol consumption.
Ava.
Your intuition was pounding ceaselessly in your mind and you just couldn’t bring yourself to ignore it any longer.
Yes, she had told you she would talk to Astarion, but your nerves were being eaten raw and time wasn’t something you could afford to spare.
“I… think I need to talk about something…” you began as a shiver tore through your body.
Shadowheart gripped your knees, her face twisted in alarmed worry. “What is it?”
You exchanged a glare with Astarion who eyed you in confusion.
“I met up with Ava last night and…” You paused briefly, pondering your next words. “She made an offering.”
His brows furrowed together. “What offering?”
You felt sweat coat your palms as your heart rate quickened in distress. “She’s under the impression someone is after us,” you said, clutching your hands together. “That whoever it is might be responsible for that dead body and us getting wrongfully arrested.”
Shadowheart was now gripping your knees firmly. “And what did she offer?”
Your leg was visibly shaking now as you were finding it harder to keep your composure.
“Apparently, when Astarion feeds on me, our blood mixes together and…”
As far as you were aware, Shadowheart wasn’t aware of his deal with Ava, so you decided to hold that information.
“She’s interested in that… mixture and wants access to it in exchange for information.”
The effect your words had was nearly catastrophic.
Shadowheart looked positively scandalised and Astarion immediately gripped your arm, snarling, “ What? ”
He was instantly on his feet and you followed suit.
“How would she even have access to that in the first place?” she asked in awe.
Astarion spoke before you could, “I’ve been giving her some of my blood as she researches ways to counter the effects of vampirism. But I wasn’t aware of this!”
“ Astarion! ” Shadowheart let out in sheer outrage. “What in the Hells is wrong with you?”
He ignored her remark, eyes fixed on you.
He was mad.
No.
He was furious.
Up until this point, you had only ever witnessed him protect Ava and vouched for her integrity, but it seemed that he was no longer interested in upholding his defence.
“She told me she would tell you of this as she only recently found out about it.”
“To Hells with that!” he snarled. “Did you agree to that arrangement?”
Silence
But that was answer enough.
“You should have told me!”
You swallowed the uncomfortable lump in your throat. “You never listen to me when it comes to her!”
He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “This is different!”
“How?!”
Crimson eyes locked with yours as he scowled deeply. “She involved you!”
His admission stunned you into silence.
It wasn’t all that common nowadays to witness Shadowheart succumb to her protective instinct to the point of no return.
But you could tell she was close to snapping when she approached Astarion, yellow flames dangerously swirled across her palms.
“Give me one good reason not to blast this Ava into oblivion,” she growled with ire. “Or you, for that matter.”
He gave her a mocking scoff. “Darling, I’d love to see you try.”
She smiled deviously and you knew it was time to intervene.
You carefully placed your hand on her arm. “Shadowheart.”
She glanced at you almost in disbelief. “‘Shadowheart’? He’s out here dealing with dodgy people and putting us all at risk! Now she’s also involved with murdering people in Waterdeep?”
Astarion let out an exasperated groan. “What connection is there between the two, then?”
In all honesty, you weren’t quite sure.
Not yet, at least.
At this point, you were allowing your gut feeling to guide you, and it could very well blow up in your face if she turned out to be innocent in all of this.
However… the warning signs were too loud to ignore.
“I… don’t know yet.”
Astarion was glaring at you with pursed lips, and you vaguely wondered if he was upset with you, or if he was actually upset that his judgement had failed him when it came to Ava.
“You can bleed yourself dry if you wish, but not her ,” Shadowheart pressed in a low voice.
“I know .” he shot back.
She took a step forward, her face dangerously close to his. “Then you’d do well to remember that my respect for you has its limits. Do not cross them.”
You tugged at her arm again, trying to put some distance in between them.
“Well, this conversation isn’t going anywhere,” he said after a while with a scoff before turning around to leave. “I’ll be in my room.”
You tried to go after him, but Shadowheart held you firmly in place. “Let him go.”
It was hard to do so, but you nodded as you sat on a nearby chair.
“I know you care deeply for him, but this is beyond ludicrous.” she said with a heavy sigh.
Her voice was that of reason, so you couldn’t fault her for being so apprehensive.
“He would never harm me.”
And you would always stand by this as sure as the sun is to rise.
“Not consciously, but by dealing with this woman, he might have opened a door to great peril.”
You nodded, avoiding her penetrating gaze. “Wyll is running a few checks on some information she gave me. I guess we’ll find an answer soon enough.”
Shadowheart’s face softened every so slightly.
“Please exert caution with Astarion,” she said, grabbing your hand. “And I’m not talking about this in particular.
Oh.
“I don’t doubt for a second that he cares for you, but I don’t want to see you bound to nightmares,” she said in a whisper. “That is no way of living.”
You took a deep breath. “Things are fine between us.”
Unexpectedly, she let out a chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure. My room is next to his and… well, let’s just say that I may have overheard him mumbling your name a few times…”
“What do you…”
Oh.
“So, just… be careful,” she pleaded as she gripped your hand fiercely. “I trust your judgement, but not his… especially not after this.
You felt your heart swell with affection for Shadowheart and you pulled her into a tight embrace, almost tearing up as you did so.
“Thank you.”
She rubbed your back affectionately and whispered, “I adore you.”
“So do I.”
It was becoming more and more apparent that standing outside Astarion’s room was almost part of a routine now.
After a few more seconds, she finally pulled back with a reassuring smile. “I’ll tell the Fists outside to inform Wyll of what’s happened.”
And it was also unnecessarily hard to reach out for that first knock.
You had waited a couple of hours before deciding on what to do.
Wyll hadn’t shown up yet and there was still no word from Waterdeep.
So, you took a deep breath and as you were about to rasp your knuckles against the door, a charming voice was heard, “I know you’re outside.”
Of course he did.
“Can I come in?”
A brief pause.“Be my guest.”
You turned the knob and rushed inside, clicking the door shut behind you.
As expected, the room was plunged in a candle-lit dimness as the curtains draped over the window kept the blazing sun at bay.
Astarion lay on his bed, resting against the headboard as he threaded his way along a piece of cloth with a needle, his eyes solely focused on the task at hand.
Your stomach turned and twisted in knots, and you realised you weren’t quite sure how to start the conversation.
A low chuckle was heard. “I’m assuming you didn’t come here to simply stare at me, darling.”
The lightheartedness in his voice made you feel slightly at ease and you shook your head. “No. I suppose not.”
This time, he did meet your eyes briefly and your heart skipped a beat.“As dashing as I am, I’d rather hear what you have to say instead.”
Right.
You cleared your throat, taking careful steps towards him before taking a seat at the feet of his bed, mindful to keep a certain respectful distance.
“I should have told you about Ava earlier on when you asked me.”
“Indeed.”
He didn’t sound upset in the slightest.
If anything, there was a faint hint of strange calmness to his voice.
“As for Shadowheart…”
He let out a snort. “Please. The day she stops worrying about you is the day I’ll find her in a casket.”
You couldn’t help out a short chuckle as he was absolutely right.
Still, you laced your hands in your lap, absentmindedly fidgeting with your fingers. “I…” you began, before drifting off as uncertainty took place. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
Astarion paused altogether and his crimson eyes were on you again.
“See, I do understand that reasoning,” he said, tugging at the thread that curled around one finger. “But considering the nature of your conversation with her, you should have told me right away.”
You nodded.
“As fruitful as my connection to her might prove to be, I cannot accept the deal you made with her.”
Your heart raced in your chest at how determined he seemed in his resolve.
However…
“If what she says is true and someone is after us, this feels like a small price to pay.”
Astarion snipped the thread with a pair of scissors before setting his handiwork on the bedside table.
The look on his face could easily make the bravest men cower in fear.
“Nothing that involves you is a ‘small price to pay’,” he said, voice low and heavy. “It’s one thing for me to willfully provide my blood, and another for her to take advantage of you so blatantly.”
You frowned deeply. “She is also taking advantage of you, then.”
“I can deal with her.”
Astarion had this tendency to sell himself short in terms of self-worth. At times, he was as confident as one could be, but the centuries of robbed autonomy and lack of genuine bond to others would often slip in and take hold.
He was probably not even aware of how easy it was for you to catch on to this, but you knew him well enough by now.
“You don’t have to.”
He rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”
It nearly shattered you to hear him put up his defences around you so unbelievably fast.
There was no need for that.
“Don’t ,” you nearly pleaded. “Please don’t assume I am trying to tell you what to do.”
Just as rapidly, his features softened ever so slightly. “I apologise.”
You vehemently shook your head. “I also apologise if my words came across as condescending.”
An unsettling silence took place.
His eyes roamed across your face and you felt more exposed to him than you had ever been even when fully naked in his presence.
Even though you felt comfortable and safe with him, there were times when you wondered if it was reciprocal.
“Ava is not your concern,” he eventually said. “I will deal with her.”
You had no doubt he would.
It just saddened you that… “I know she was helping you out in more ways than one, even if I don’t particularly agree with the… method, so to speak.”
“Yet here you are, thinking that whatever bond I share with her is significant enough,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “I am using her as much as she is using me. But I never allowed for that to extend to you. Ever .”
You swallowed as his harsh words hit you.
“That was her first mistake – involving you.”
“I took the deal freely.” you said.
“You didn’t have to at all,” he retorted impatiently. “She needs me more than I need her. So, if she knows anything about someone coming after us, she will tell me and I won’t be kind when I ask her to.”
Fair enough.
“Will you still give her your blood?”
“It depends.”
You blinked. “On what?”
“On how the conversation goes,” he said with a shrug. “Though what I do know for certain is that I will not give her blood after feeding on you.”
An impending sense of dread rose inside you and you vaguely wondered if you had just fucked up.
Information was power, and you worried that she might not take it well now that Astarion was openly against her proposal.
But to be fair, she did mention she would let him know about all of this. So, it wasn’t truly your fault that he didn’t take it well, was it?
In fact, it was very much on brand with Astarion.
His sense of loyalty to you was unwavering and transcended any arrangement the two of you had agreed to.
And that was a bond not easily severed, probably much to Ava’s dismay.
“You are off limits.”
It wasn’t a subtle warning by any means and it made your heart swell with warmth somehow. His protectiveness nearly rivalled that of Shadowheart, though you wouldn’t dare tell her this.
A faint smile curled his lips. “I have to thank you.”
You arched an eyebrow. “For what?”
He hesitated at first. “I know you mean well. I do know that.”
Oh, Astarion…
“You’re a better friend than I could ever have hoped for – or even deserve,” he went on. “It is hard at times to be vulnerable. I was never allowed to. For centuries I equated being vulnerable to being weak… even pathetic.”
You were unsure of how to respond, but you felt each word tug at your heartstrings in a way that you had only felt when he had confessed his feelings for you back in Moonrise Towers.
“I’m still getting used to this…” He paused abruptly as if pondering his next words. “Allowing myself to feel all these emotions, I suppose.”
“You are more deserving than you think,” you said truthfully. “Give yourself some credit. You used to be bound to your selfishness when we first met. You didn’t care for others because no one ever cared for you.”
His face held an expression akin to hurt, but it was the good kind of pain. Breaking one’s protective shell didn’t come without discomfort, but it was worth it in the long run.
Unconsciously, you shifted along the edge of the bed as the overwhelming urge to embrace him took over you at once.
Still, you didn’t want to push it, so you halted once you were sitting right next to him, which earned an amused smile from him.
“I have something for you.”
“Oh?”
He reached his hand to grab the piece of cloth on the nightstand. The very same he had just been embroidering moments ago.
“Come here.”
Your heart skipped a beat as he tapped his thigh twice.
Noticing your hesitancy, he repeated the motion until you gathered yourself, feeling a rush of heat pool at your cheeks.
“You do have a thing for keeping me waiting, darling.” he remarked playfully.
A chuckle made its way past your lips as you moved to settle on his lap, careful not to sit too close to his-
“Here you go,” he said, proffering what resembled a kerchief of some sort.
You took it in your hands, admiring its silky texture and mesmerising fusion of different shades of blue that swirled beautifully together until your eyes spotted the yellow-threaded embroidery sprawled along one corner.
Your name.
The needlework was impeccable as always.
Your eyes widened in sheer bewilderment as you remembered the last time he had offered you such a gift.“I – this is beautiful,” you managed to say. “The other one was a masterpiece as well.”
He chuckled tenderly. “The timing of my offering was rather inopportune on that day – I should have waited until we were back in camp.”
His words were sweet and caressed you like a lover, and you could feel yourself drawn more and more to him.
“May I?”
You nodded as he took the kerchief from your hands only to have it drape around your neck, his fingers tugging gently at both ends as his eyes met yours.
Oh.
Fuck.
You only had time to hastily hold on to the headboard with both hands for support as he pulled you in closer. “May I kiss you?”
It was an uncomfortable position to be in since you were trying to avoid his crotch at all costs.
“Where?”
His gaze dropped to your lips.
“Friends don’t do that.” you teased, but still inching closer to him.
“Darling ,” he began with a click of his tongue, rolling the edges of the fabric around each finger. “We haven’t been friends for quite a while now.”
And then he kissed you.
It was a hungry and urgent kiss and his tongue quickly slipped past your lips, causing you to instantly melt into him.
The softest moan escaped your throat as you felt a single fang nip teasingly at your lower lip.
Driven by pure instinct, you shifted along his thighs until you were pressed against his crotch.
He broke the kiss to let out a strained groan and you immediately lifted your hips, alarmed that you had gone too far.
But his hands immediately dropped to your waist, holding you in place. “Don’t.”
You met his lustful gaze. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t. Please .”
He didn’t push you back against him, but you felt his fingers tease the waistband of your trousers.
“Astarion…” you said, unsure if this was a good idea.
He tugged again, but more gently this tme. “We don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable with.”
Oh, you were more than eager to carry on. In fact, you were desperate .
You bit your lip, torn between listening to reason or giving in to the moment.
The latter won by a landslide.
You nodded and he masterfully undid the buttons and laces with one hand.
“Do you trust me?”
What an odd question from him. “You know I do.”
His thumb traced your jawline before grazing your lower lip and earning a sigh from you. “Can I trust you not to scream?”
“Scream? Why would I-”
Realisation hit you like a tidal wave and your eyes widened as words died in your mouth.
Oh.
Astarion smiled cheekily, patting your thigh, clearly urging you to slide off of his lap. “Lock the door.”
You were still taken aback and didn't move an inch, staring into his crimson eyes instead as your heart drummed rapidly in your chest.
“Lock the door .”
It resembled a plea, which caused you to clench involuntarily from how desperate he sounded.
Swiftly slipping off his lap, you hurried across his room to turn the key below the doorknob until a click was heard.
By the time you turned around, Astarion had removed his shirt and you were rooted in place, utterly speechless.
He was a work of art.
No words of praise would ever do him justice.
Your mouth had dropped slightly open and he chuckled deviously. “You’re free to stay there and gawk, but I’d rather have you on top of me.”
His teasing snapped you out of your trance-like state and you felt a stronger wave of heat flare across your face and rush down your body.
Your legs felt weak all of a sudden, but you found your way back to him as you always did.
In the end, all roads did lead back to him.
As if driven by an outside force, you quickly slipped out of your trousers, only leaving on your underwear which was already gathering a growing wet spot.
His stare was fixed on your lower half and you spotted the familiar outline of his cock strained in his own trousers.
He eased you back on his lap with a firm grip on your waist and a boyish grin on his lips. Your hands settled on his bare shoulders, still mindful to not lower your hips too much.
“So, my dearest friend… ” he said, adjusting the kerchief around your neck. “How often do you indulge in such activities with your other friends?”
You smirked playfully. “Not often enough.”
He mirrored your expression, fingers slowly undoing each button of your shirt. “Oh? I wonder who crosses your mind, then.”
You.
But he already knew that as his hands travelled down your chest, each breath allowing your shirt to part wide enough to expose your heaving breasts.
“Is it Wyll?”
“You and your obsession with Wyll,” you laughed as he slowly pulled the fabric to the side, exposing each breast at a time. “I’m starting to think you want him for yourself.”
His eyes left yours to gaze at a perky nipple. “The question is: would you be willing to share?”
You whimpered softly as his thumb traced the underside of one breast and you felt too tempted to press down against his erection just so you could comfort the throb in between your legs.
“Of course… I’m all for sharing friends.”
Once he began grazing your nipple, you had to grip his shoulders tighter to anchor yourself.
Your body undulated instinctively, earning a hum of approval from him.
“Would you let Wyll do this, then? As a friend, obviously.”
You were about to arch a brow at his question when you felt one finger pulling your underwear to the side, exposing yourself to him.
It was almost comical how soaked you already were.
You reckoned it was enough to take more than just his fingers.
“Would you let him, darling?”
“I–”
But your voice died in your throat as he ran a single cool finger along your folds, carefully avoiding the swell in between them much to your agony.
The shift in temperature was always something that took some time getting used to and you occasionally flinched as your body adjusted to his touch.
“Can I do this, then?” he asked in a low growl as he teased your entrance. “As a friend.”
You rolled your hips out of reflex and he sank into you with ease until he was knuckle-deep.
“Gods…” you moaned in sheer relief, instinctively clenching around him.
He then pressed his thumb between your folds, causing your hips to jerk as he teased the pulsing swell. It wasn’t long until you began to slowly ride him, your eyes nearly fluttering shut.
“You can take more, can’t you?” he cooed, moving his hand to tease your other nipple. “I remember how eager you used to be for my cock.”
At this rate, he would make you come from his teasing words alone and with a single finger buried inside you.
“Astarion… don’t…” you moaned as you rolled your hips, urging him on.
He needed to shut up…
You needed him to stop talking before-
He suddenly slipped a second finger and you lost your balance, pressing your breasts against his bare chest while seeking support from his shoulder as you buried your face in his neck.
“You have no idea how I longed to be inside you again,” he sighed, his fingers gripping your waist and guiding your sloppy rolls, eventually setting the pace. “My hands can never feel as divine as you do.”
Gods…
You shuddered violently as your moans quickly turned into sobs and whimpers, the wet lewd sounds filling your ears.
He pressed the heel of his palm against you, the delicious friction causing you to rake your hand down from his shoulder and along his chest until he caught your wrist, pressing your heated palm against his hardened nipple.
Astarion immediately groaned and you felt him arch into you.
“Darling…” he moaned, pumping his fingers faster inside you. “Please look down.”
You were so out of it, that his words didn’t register at first, so you kept on riding him in between sobs, further teasing his nipple under your touch.
“Look down,” he repeated more firmly, nearly slipping out of you. “I want you to see the mess you’ve made.”
“ No-no-no … please…” you nearly cried in exasperation, moving your hips desperately against him.
“Then look down.”
You growled in pure frustration, somehow managing to pull back enough to have your eyes land on the hand in between your legs.
It was soaked down to his wrist, and you could see some of it beginning to drip, staining his strained bulge.
You felt an overwhelming wave of embarrassment wash down over you and tried to bury your face in his neck again, but he gripped your chin with his fingers, halting you.
“Do not hide from me,” he said, slipping his fingers back inside as he stared into your half-hooded eyes. “This is one of the highest praises you can offer me.” And he proved his point by planting the softest kiss on your lips.
You immediately melted into his praise, realising just how lovely he could be…
The pent-up sexual frustration was at an all time high and you could feel the familiar coil in your lower abdomen reach the point of no return.
You wished you were strong enough to fight him back with snarky and witty replies, but your concentration was broken.
“What about a third one?”
You didn’t care anymore.
You just wanted release.
It had been too long since he had made you come and you'd take anything he gave you at this point.
“Just…” you began, chasing after that high relentlessly. “ Just… ”
He had the nerve to chuckle at your frustration and you felt a third finger prodding at your entrance.
You could take it.
You would take it.
The fullness would most surely remind you of his cock and you needed it.
You were wet enough to accommodate him as he pushed through, earning a gasp from you followed by a shudder and a strained groan.
“I don’t mean to brag, but I highly doubt dear Wyll would get this reaction from you.”
“Gods… stop talking about Wyll as you’re inside me,” you managed to string coherents words together in between your moans. “Just… please…”
He pressed a kiss to your flushed cheek. “You always take me so well.”
How you wished it was his cock instead, stretching you even more and filling you deeper.
You were nearly there.
“Don’t scream, darling.” he teased as you rode him desperately. “We wouldn't want dear Shadowheart to overhear your wanton cries.”
Well, Shadowheart was already privy to the nature of your relationship with Astarion thanks to him and how he clearly didn't shy away from taking care of himself with others around.
Your mind was about to blank and you slid the kerchief from your neck, feeling the need to bite down on something as you reached your peak.
A few more hip rolls did the trick and one last stroke of his thumb along your folds managed to push you right over the edge.
Your contractions were so violent and strong at first you thought you might die from how hard you were clenching around him, your legs wobbling dangerously as you were drained of lifeforce with each blinding wave of bliss.
The piece of cloth in your mouth didn’t do much to muffle you as your climax tore throughout your body, but it was better than having nothing.
Astarion only slid out once you had slumped into his chest, barely able to keep your breathing steady.
Your knees gave out and you sank down against his crotch, earning a guttural growl from deep within him.
Shit.
You instantly slid off of him, worrying you had accidentally gone too far. “Astarion… I’m…”
He shook his head, the hand that was soaked in your wetness clawing at the front of his trousers as his eyes were pressed shut.
Oh.
“I’ll take care of this…” he let out a pained hiss.
Oh.
“I can just leave,” you mumbled. “I’m…”
His trousers were now undone and you could see his clothes cock faintly throbbing.
And he shook his head once again. “You can stay – you can watch… if you want to.” His words were coated in urgent lust.
Your eyes widened at his proposition and you thought you might implode right there and then.
You had barely come down from your climax and the throbbing that had begun to subside was already about to match your quickened heartbeat.
“Or you can leave…” he said in a low and strained voice.
Oh, he was truly holding back…
“I… can stay.” you offered at once, sitting next to him and trying to ignore the lust that was building inside you once again.
This wasn't about you.
He quickly nodded and with a swift tug he freed his cock and you had to bite down hard on your lip at the mesmerising sight in front of you.
A single strand of precum dangled from the tip, already pooling on his lower abdomen.
“Gods above…” he let out a sigh of relief, hips lifting from the mattress as he wrapped the hand drenched in your wetness around him.
This was too hot to witness and you curled your hands into fists on your lap, wishing nothing more than to touch him again.
But you knew he needed this.
He needed to feel at ease with his body first.
His eyes met yours briefly before dropping to your chest and to your breasts as they heaved from your laboured breathing.
You removed your shirt, not wanting to obstruct his view and Astarion growled .
The pace was slow at first as he squeezed his cock, but he quickly picked up, mixing your wetness with his with each stroke.
He looked positively ethereal as his handsome face twisted in pleasure, lips parted and razor-sharp fangs peeking through.
Should you say something? Should you praise him? Encourage him? Or would it be too much?
From what you remembered, he seemed to revel in your teasing words in moments of shared bliss, but how much of that was an act back then? Was he ever able to fully enjoy being with you?
In doubt, you chose to remain silent as you watched him bring himself closer to his own climax.
It didn't take him long to start mumbling your name in between heated pants and there was no way back now.
You were throbbing hard again, wetness spilling from you with each involuntarily clench.
Your body was so ready for him… it was almost painful.
A thicker string of precum bridged his tip to his abdomen, and you nearly moaned, remembering its sweet taste.
He rolled his hips languidly, eyes never leaving you as he gripped the bedsheets under him with such force you reckoned me might tear right through the fabric.
That sparked newfound curiosity inside you.
Slowly, you leaned forward, shifting closer just to have your hand next to his without quite touching him, but close enough for him to feel your warmth.
I'm here… I'm with you, you wanted to whisper, but only heard the words echo in your head.
He groaned in response and, much to your surprise, he released the sheets and his fingers found you, intertwining them in yours as he held on to you.
Your heart might have skipped several beats, you were no longer sure at this rate.
You had seen him reach his peak a handful of times before, but there was something different about the way he toppled over the edge this time.
He threw his head back against the headboard, straining his neck as his mouth dropped open, your name being the only intelligible word you could make out in the midst of hisses and groans.
Your heart was hammering so fast in your chest that you feared you might not make it as he reached his peak.
His hips still momentarily and he covered his swollen tip with his hand and the first spurts of cum began to slip through his fingers before dribbling down to gather at the base and across his lower abdomen.
You held his hand formçy through his climax. Perhaps the first genuine one you had ever witnessed, which invoked an odd feeling of… delight?
For the second time in just a mere couple of days, the two of you held hands albeit seeking varying degrees of comfort and relief.
Beads of sweat rolled down his temple and covered his bare torso as he descended from his high and that was when his eyes met yours.
Your stomach turned and you felt the throb between your legs begin to ease with each passing second.
“Will you kiss me?”
His request took you by surprise, but you promptly shifted next to him until your face was close enough that your lips grazed his.
Only then did he let go of your hand and merely because he meant to hold your chin as he kissed you softly.
It carried neither urgency nor lust.
Just a pure display of silent intimacy that strummed at your heartstrings more effectively than any other praise he could ever offer you.
You melted into his sweet touch and allowed your kiss to express the unspoken words you had yet to tell him.
I love you…
Whichever form of love it was, all you knew was that it felt right and love overdue.
You could feel him occasionally smile against your lips and there was not a single drop of doubt in you.
I love you.
After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away, already mourning his touch.
“Shadowheart knows.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
You had to hold back a chuckle. “She heard you – well, when you were… handling things after feeding on me.”
The most mischievous of smiles settled on his lips.
“I thought you said you were quiet…”
“I was, darling,” he said before pecking your cheek. “For the most part, that is.”
You giggled and then stared at him in awe as his beauty increased tenfold from where you sat.
He was impossibly handsome.
“You’re so…”
“Charming?”
You rolled your eyes as he pressed his cool lips to your other cheek.
“Beautiful?”
Another kiss.
“You’re so… you.” you blurted out almost feeling embarrassed from how basic your praise was.
But it drew the biggest smile from him, and you mirrored it instantly.
“Well…”
You watched as his eyes dropped to his lower half and yours widened slightly at the obscene amount of cum was now dribbling down his sides in thick beads. His hand was still holding his now softening cock, fingers drenched in his own spend.
“That’s a lot…” you said.
He nodded, looking almost as perplexed as you were. “I don’t think I’ve ever…” and his voice trailed down.
And you knew exactly what he meant.
With a warm smile, you extended your hand, offering him the kerchief he had gifted you moments before.
He visibly winced. “No, darling. It would be nigh criminal to use such delicate fabric on this .”
Your smile widened. “Can I fetch you a towel then?”
“Please,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “It’s rather messy here.”
You pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips before sliding off the bed and hurriedly slipping into your shirt and trousers and crossing the room.
The key turned in one swift move and you quickly left the room.
You were only able to take a few steps before a silhouette startled you.
Shadowheart.
She was leaning against the railing by the top of the staircase with folded arms and a quirked brow.
“Gods! You scared me,” you said, clutching at your chest.
“Glad some of us are able to enjoy ourselves in such times.”
You swallowed hard. “Uh… we were just talking.”
She snickered humorously. “I suppose it’s a form of communication.”
An overwhelming heatwave spread across your face. Had you been that loud? Or had he?
Then her expression turned serious. “Pull yourself together. We have visitors.”
TBC
#astarion#astarion bg3#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion x female tav#astarion x you#astarion x female reader#astarion x f!tav#astarion x oc#astarion x f!reader#the arrangement#astarion smut
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