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hitlikehammers · 2 months

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feels like home

rating: t ♥️ cw: coming out, softness, recovering from the upside down ♥️ tags: pre-relationship, post-s4, fluff, hurt/comfort, Eddie is having many feelings, the main one being that Steve feels like home, platonic stobbin, supportive platonic soulmates coming out so Eddie feels safe to do the same, injury recovery, still-so-soft

for @steddielovemonth day seventeen: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost (@yournowheregirl)

this definitely takes place chronologically after this one so: have some of these codependent lovebirds as they start to figure their big feelings out ♥️

It’s weird, and probably unhealthy, that his hospital room—like this—feels kinda like home.

But he thinks it’s okay, to be fair, because it’s not like he thinks this place is home; the smell of antiseptic is still pretty sharp in the air even as he’s gotten disconnected from one machine, drip, or monitor every day until he’s largely free to toddle to the bathroom on his own as long as there’s someone to watch and make sure he doesn’t fall. Wayne’s there for that when he can be, which explains the home associations, but: the rest of the time, in fact—kinda more often than it isn’t?

It’s Steve.

And Eddie struck a deal with himself—no digging in to the fluttery-gooey-warm-chest-squeezy feelings while he’s laid up in a bed—but when he walks around even under supervision, it’s…feeling like he’s cheating.

Plus the feelings are getting kinda…kinda loud.

Because Steve is always there, sometimes he ever stays when Wayne comes, at least for a while. He leaves to keep an eye on the Party, leaves to check up on Max, hits the community hub: but it’s…it’s such a blip of time, honestly, in comparison to being here, with Eddie.

And when he’s gone, it doesn’t…it doesn’t feel at all like home, it feels kinda fucking horrible, so.

Eddie doesn’t even actually have to dig in to that train of thought. It’s pretty fucking clear as-is.

He’s surfacing from kind of, like, a light doze, not even a full on nap, and he’s gentle with the coming-to of it because he can kinda, like, feel Steve’s presence at his side and he’s talking really low anyway, even if he couldn’t, so Eddie definitely knows it’s him, and he could have guessed the other visitor pretty easy even if it wasn’t her voice that was the first to bleed through with actual words:

“She’s,” Robin makes a little stifled whine; “you’ve seen her.”

“Not my type but,” Steve’s saying from next to Eddie; “ I see your point, yeah.”

“She’s like a,” Robin’s voice goes kinda hazy, a little dreamy; “like a fairy creature, or! Or like a prairie woman with those, those hats—“

“A prairie woman who likes boobi—“

“Stop!” Robin hisses low, and Eddie can feel her knock his mattress a little, she must lean over like she wants to enforce her will somehow: “stop stop stop—“

“If you can’t say it you probably shouldn’t be touchin—“ Steve’s saying and god, his voice is so bitching, and Eddie think he kinda fucking lov—

Oh. Oh, well. Shit.

“I’m not touching!” Robin moans, but kinda frantic with it; “the problem is I am not touching!”

And Eddie, too, is not touching the thought he just had about those four fucking letters that are, that, that are—

“Also it’s a gross, immature word,” Robin’s going on and…oh.

Oh.

Okay, so like: even if he’s just kinda in that liminal space of awareness, they have to know he’s more awake than not; his two remaining monitors are different even when he’s calm and just resting, but as the words themselves sink in, now? His heartbeat’s betraying the hell out of him for the staccato it’s pinging on the screen as he processes it: Robin’s showing her cards, though Eddie’d always figured she might be a bird of his feather, but, like—

“Is it though?” Steve’s murmuring low and so, so judgmental; “seems more immature to not say it at all,” and he, he fucking tsks at her, then, and, and—

And then—

Then Steve’s saying words that make no sense at all, like: sure they’re words. In English. Eddie’s very sure of it. So that means he should definitely comprehend them. But…

“You should listen to me, Robs, seriously. I do still like boobies, too. I have insights.”

And Eddie—Eddie’s eyes fly open, he thinks out of shock? That makes the most sense, like he’s startled into full-wakefulness, that tracks as he blinks up at the water-stainer ceiling with his heart in his throat as he tries to find sense in those words, fails, tries again, fucking fails, all as the Corsican Twins cackle over word choice, good god, and then—

“Hey.”

Steve’s grabbing his hand at the wrist and covering it so gently, fucking…cradles it and stories his thumb over the insistent tap of his pulse and meets his eyes, so wide and honest and earnest and if Eddie’s heart wasn’t already primed toward racing it sure as shit would have started just with those eyes on him, and that touch on him, and:

“You okay, man?” and it’s so simple, and Eddie doesn’t fucking know what’s happening on his face, what kind of of shock or terror or something deeper still is seeping from his expression but Steve’s studying him, watching for long seconds that stretch for-fucking-everbefore his jaw squares and his head tiles, something resolute shining through in him and he moves so slowly, lifts Eddie’s hand in his so slowly and Eddie doesn’t even wholly clock what’s happening, let alone that it’s real, as Steve fucking pauses their hands by his lips, so Eddie can feel his breath so warm and he watches, then, waits, and Eddie doesn’t think through what it means when he nods, like it’s not actually a legitimate thought, exactly, he just knows that, that—

Whatever’s happening, and however terrified he thinks he is: he can trust Steve.

Because somehow: Steve’s home.

It’s still fucking earth-shattering when Steve does lean, when his lips brush against the heel of Eddie’s palm, still scrape-covered, and then he reaches just as slow again for Eddie’s cheek to cup, to fucking cradle that, too, and Jesus H. Goddamn Christ—

“You’re safe, Eddie,” is all he says and maybe, maybe Eddie’s reading into it way beyond what he should, but like, it doesn’t feel like Steve’s telling him he’s safe maybe from the lingering threads of a nightmare, or that he’s safe from the government, from the cops, or from the Upside Down coming for them because they all know it’s still fucking coming but Eddie has felt scared of it once, yet, not like this, not here, with—

But Steve’s tone doesn’t just hold that: it’s bigger. He means…

They had to know he wasn’t really asleep, and so, Eddie, Eddie thinks Steve means…

Yeah.

Fuck.

“You’re outta water,” Steve’s saying and Eddie didn’t even notice he’d been reading to pour Eddie a glass from the ever-present pitcher at his bedside then he’s standing, his hand leaving and fuck all if Eddie doesn’t lean into it before he can think twice but Steve just smiles, soft, as he walks out the door.

“We talked about it.”

He turns to Robin almost violently, head kinda snapping her direction with the speed and force he moves with.

“We weren’t gonna hide it from you, but like,” she mashes her lips together, Eddie can see she’s trying to find a way forward with the least possible rambling, but the clearest possible throughway so she can get what she needs to say out, before Steve comes back.

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to,” she hums a little; “be that, you know, open? With us, if you don’t want to,” her eyes are so big and sincere, and Eddie’s pulse is steadying if only slowing by a fraction, but she does help put him at ease, even as she trips a little over the rest: “if you had any thing that was, y’know, kinda private or, something,” she nods to herself and plays with the hem of her shirt: “yeah.”

Eddie nods to himself, and…he can’t, he can’t not ask her, not in this window, because she said they’d talked and if this wasn’t part of it she loves Steve fierce and he could be still a little fresh off death’s door, she’ll still tell him to fuck off if she needs to, so at least there’s that, at least he knows, like, he won’t be allowed to step where he’s not welcome, and—

“I’m,” and fuck, his voice is a mess, he does need a fucking drink but in the absence of one at hand, he clears his throat hard and accepts that consequences of it burning like hell; “he, umm,” Eddie bits his lip and gestures toward the empty door, eyes Robin kinda pitifully: “he said—“

Robin, thank fuck: Robin is merciful, has to see where he’s going, here, and she points to the doorway indicative of who isn’t in it, yet:

“Very both,” she says simply, then point to herself: “very…”

“Boobies?” Eddie suggests and Robin, she just groans.

“Not you too,” and…okay, shit, umm, well—

Eddie… maybe Eddie can be brave. Like, in small doses.

“Actually, ah, I,” he stumbled but then he makes himself take a breath, makes himself try:

“No, not me too,” he says in a rush and looks up at her through his lashes, so fucking vulnerable: “like, very specifically not, me too.”

And she smiles at him so warm and…like, almost welcoming, which is weird but feels, nice? And she pats his arm kinda affectionately and, just—

“Did you decide to take me up on my wisdom so we can actually accept she’s almost definitely into you, and move on to planning your wedding?” Steve slides back in and shuts the door behind him, getting to pouring Eddie some water before he even sits the fuck down.

His fingers brush Eddie’s as he passes it off and, it probably shouldn’t make Eddie all tingly, Steve did kinda kiss his hand? Like, a little?

But that don’t mean shit: Eddie’s all pins and needles and, like, sparkles.

“He’s the only help you’ve got here, Buckley,” Eddie screws his courage up one more time because…because Steve needs to know, too; Eddie wouldn’t put Robin in the position of not knowing whether she can tell her platonic soulmate something, make her keep a secret even by implication but so much bigger that that is, are—

All the things he doesn’t want to poke at, or dig up and examine, that he’s dodging on the excuse of convalescence: all those things taken into account: he trusts Steve. He feels…so much for Steve already, and he feels weirdly sure that whatever happens next, those feelings are only gonna find ways to grow, so—

Steve has to know, not just because Eddie thinks he suspects it, but because Eddie tells him—because it’s….’cause it’s Steve.

“Feels like it’d be foolish not to take the man up on the offer when he’s definitely the expert in the room,” Eddie pushes on, awkward but determined; “seeing as I don’t, umm, know about,” and his eyes flicker to Robin for a second, before they land on Steve to finish:

“About boobies.”

And Steve does say anything, doesn’t look any way save how he’d looked before: calm, and mostly-relaxed, and right next to Eddie, and Eddie’s eyes drop from Steve’s face and find the collar of his shirt, the peak of hair from in between and, shit, shit, he’s talking about tits and then there’s Steve’s chest hair and holy fucking wow he is staring:

“Umm, I mean,” and fucking fuck, now he’s talking—

“Like, not that kind, at least,” and then he forces his eyes down to the sheets over his lap and considers if it’s possible to dissolve into cotton if it’s startchy and uncomfortable as shit, and you happen to be mortified enough to sink into the fucking threads.

But then; then there’s Steve.

Because of fucking course there’s Steve.

And Steve?

Steve takes his cup from him when he could easily have leaned to put it down himself, but then Steve replaces the cup in Eddie’s grip with his own warm hand, like a tether, like a lifeline, like a…

Like a promise.

And when the conversation turns toward strategizing Robin’s approach for Vickie, Eddie’s, he, he just…

He’s home, y’know?

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

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nsharks · 1 year

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can we see more of dad ghost ♥︎ im obsessedLMAO

“soft around the edges”

aka when ghost’s son runs up to him in front of the team (a little part 2 to this fic. part 3 here.)

Soap doesn't share the Lieutenant's secret with the rest of the force.

Things go back to normal after that brief, bizarre encounter with you. When their break is over, Ghost carries on the typical dry humor and sharp orders, pretending that Soap never had dinner at his cozy home and met his pregnant wife.

Though, MacTavish does notice little differences in his stoic superior turned new dad. Ghost is shockingly, and ever-so-slightly, nicer. His language is still foul. But he's a little less rough around the edges: compliments Soap a bit more, tells him to shut the fuck up a little bit less.

It's not something that any of the others notice, of course, which is why they are all so baffled when they finally do figure out about Ghost's secret family.

It's two years later when they are disbanding at a base in the UK that you accidentally reveal yourself.

It's truly an accident.

Whenever you pick him up from the military base, Simon instructs you to wait outside. Says he doesn't want to put you at any risk. But you have a knack for not listening to him. You missed him so much during the past four months, and the two-year-old in your arms was old enough to start asking where his dad was, so you figured you could wait for him inside this time, hidden away in a corner.

Your plan might have worked if it weren't for the swell of your belly making it difficult for you to hold the squirming toddler.

He recognizes his dad even with the skull mask on.

Immediately starts to yelp for him, kicking his little feet around, and giving you no choice but to set the toddler down for a second. But your son is growing so much, and he's got his father's determination.

It's definitely riveting for Soap and the team to witness the whole thing unfold.

At first sight, the waddling two-year-old boy doesn't faze them. There were usually family members and little ones waiting at the gate. Gaz and Price are saying their goodbyes when they both notice that the toddler running around is coming in their direction. Or more specifically, in Ghost's direction.

Soap knows right away what's happening.

Watches with raised brows.

For the rest of the team, this is the first time they witness Ghost's demeanor shift to something so soft and peculiar. His mannerisms give everything away before the kid even reaches him: a typically-unfazed Ghost looks around frantically, probably wondering how the hell his son even got here, until he spots you waddling sheepishly after him.

Oh, fuckin' hell.

You give your husband an apologetic look that says I'm sorry and help me at the same time.

“Can’t believe what I’m seeing," Gaz mutters, watching as Ghost bends down to pick up the small child.

Tell me 'bout it, Soap wants to say. But he's already gone through the initial disbelief two years ago, so now, he simply watches with knowing eyes.

He can't say he didn't spend some time the past two years wondering what kind of parents you and Ghost had become. He knew bits and pieces of his past and hesitantly wondered if Ghost had carried on that behavior.

But now he witnesses the Lieutenant scoop the toddler in his arms, making him look so small against his broad chest. “I’ve got ya, kid.” And he is tucking the boy's head underneath his chin and pressing his masked nose to the top of his hair.

Then, the toddler reaches a small hand to his mask and pats it, perhaps harder than he realizes, but Ghost simply shakes his head and patiently wraps his much larger hand around the curious little one’s.

Ghost is soft and gentle and anything but angry, even though you worried that he might have been.

Everything seems to sink in for the team when they see you finally reach your husband. Your mouth moving to rush out apologies:

"I'm sorry, Simon, I know you said to wait outside. We just really wanted to see you and I tried to hold him and-"

And Ghost might have been frustrated on another day. But on this day, he’s just relieved to see you again. It's apparent to all of the eyes watching that this brooding man, with his deadpan eyes and a trademark mask, is utterly and unabashedly in love with you and the little family you have gifted him. Finally able to fully relax as he wraps an arm around your waist and nuzzles your neck, something you could never imagine him doing in public like this a few years ago.

“S’okay, love,” he tells you. “Can’t be mad, can I? Not when I get to see you two.”

You’re carrying his second child and he hasn't seen you in months and he simply doesn't give a fuck at the moment.

To his team watching, the Lieutenant seems like another person.

They're watching Simon, not Ghost.

"That's his girl, then?" Alejandro finally asks, as they have been frozen in place. Watching in curiosity and bewilderment.

“Wife seems like,” Gaz says. Shooting Soap a curious look, he adds, “Did you know anything about this?”

“Hell,” Soap shrugs to feign innocence. “Didn’t know a thing-“

But, of course, you’re soon waving over at him and smiling before your husband can stop you. “Hi, Johnny!”

Guilty and caught, Soap offers a small wave in return before shaking his head. “Christ, alright. May have ran into them awhile back.”

“And you didn’t tell us, MacTavish?” Gaz scoffs.

“Not my secret to tell,” Soap shrugs again and watches as Ghost caresses your pregnant stomach. He leans down to whisper something in your ear and you smile coyly at him, planting a little kiss to the cheek of his hard mask. Ghost is somehow able to hold you and your son firmly against his chest and still have more room. Must be what had the two of you realizing that a fourth family member was needed.

Soap hears the snide remarks as your family leaves and is out of earshot.

Looks like Ghost keeps himself busy on leave.

You think he helps with the diapers?

The kid’s even got his eyes.

Reckon he takes the mask off during sex?

Finally, Soap groans out, “Haud yer wheesht. That’s enough.”

“Sergeant’s right,” Price, whose own surprise has faded into something more stern, quiets the members of the team who are still lingering. “That’s your superior you’re gosspin’ about. Show some respect and bugger off.”

But once the Captain is gone, Soap allows himself this one quip (because, he’d been so good at not sharing what he’d seen for two years).

It’s a quiet one that he mentions only to Kyle.

“He takes her shopping an’ carries all the bags. Saw it myself.”

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod #call of duty #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost #fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #fem!reader #dad ghost

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judeswhore · 10 months

Text

watermelon sugar; jude bellingham

summary: jude just can’t get enough of you

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, oral (f), pussy drunk jude??

notes: you can find my masterlist here.

"fuck," the curse tumbled from your lips on a sob, back arching from the lounger as you tried to push at jude's head, palm pressing into his forehead. his arms were wrapped around your thighs, one hand against your lower tummy in order to hold you back down and it was driving you insane. you couldn't move away from his mouth, from the constant pressure he was applying to your already oversensitive clit. "baby, please, s'too much."

you'd lost count of how many times he'd made you cum, how long he'd been buried between your thighs, the yacht bobbing peacefully on the blue water. it was a good thing you were practically in the middle of nowhere because the sounds your boyfriend had been pulling from you definitely shouldn't fall on others ears. it felt like it had been hours since he'd pressed you back into the lounger and settled between your legs, bikini bottoms discarded somewhere, his tongue finding home on his favourite spot. when jude went down on you, he often forgot to come back up.

he got lost in the way you tasted, in the noises he could get you to make, in the way your legs shook around his head and your back arched off whichever surface he’d set you on. he was obsessed with how sweet you were and how just a few teasing flicks of his tongue could have you dripping down his chin. he was even more obsessed with the quiet whine that always slipped from your lips on the first press of his tongue into your leaking hole. it drove him crazy to hear the soft gasp of his name when his nose bumped your clit and he just had to hear it again. and again.

“jude,” that was the gasp, the soft hiccup and hitch of your breath as you shook your head, gripped the edge of the boat so tight you were afraid the side might pierce your skin. from between your thighs dark eyes met yours, tongue flat to lick up the entire length of your pussy before he sucked your clit between soft lips. your entire body shook, still so sensitive from coming only seconds before and being allowed no time to recover. “it- it hurts.”

jude made a sound low in the back of his throat, tongue soft over your clit as he tried to work you up again. his eyes were a little glazed over, slightly unfocused with lust and you knew he’d gone into that headspace. the one that meant he wasn’t going to let up on eating you out until you uttered that one meaningful word. he kissed at your clit before dipping his tongue into you, pressing it so deep your mind went foggy.

“you’re okay, sweetheart, just gimme one more.” you whimpered at his words, felt your pussy gush and spasm at how hot he looked like this. he was so fucked out, barely registering anything around him besides getting you to cum again, getting to taste even more of you than before. when he shifted his chin glistened with your release, lips wet and sticky and it made your tummy tighten, hips wiggling beneath his large palms.

“but-“

“shh, one more i promise.” jude pressed you a little harder into the lounger, dipped his head again and kissed around your pussy, nuzzled into you until you were whining at how messy he was being. your clit throbbed when he teased over it, pussy over sensitive and just bordering on sore, hole fluttering around nothing because he was yet to press his fingers or cock into you. he’d made you cum countless times with his tongue alone, something you knew he’d pride himself on when he finally pulled himself out of this state.

“y’said that after the last one.”

“m’sorry, baby, just taste so good. one more, please, just one.” jude was begging, actually begging, his voice whinier than normal and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have your pussy gushing a little more. he pressed your thighs a little further open to give him more access and kissed the supple skin, nipped hard enough to leave behind marks before going back to your pussy. “you can give me one more, yeah?”

you were nodding before you could even register his words, head falling back onto the pillow as jude gazed a little unseeing at the space between your thighs. he used his thumbs to spread you open a little more, kissed your clit just once before pulling his head back again. there was a few seconds of silence, of anticipating what he was going to do next and your breath caught in your throat when you felt his spit drip from your clit down your pussy, making a mess of you and the lounger beneath you.

jude’s mouth was back on you immediately, licking and sucking, being overly messy and noisy as he groaned into your swollen flesh. your legs started to shake almost straight away, the knot in your tummy tightening when he focused all his attention on your clit. you gripped at his head to keep you grounded as moans and cries slipped from your lips, tears gathering in your eyes at the constant overstimulation.

jude was grinding down against the lounger, pressing his cock repeatedly into the soft cushion to find relief as he got lost again in your taste and your voice. he let his eyes close, moaned around your clit as he sucked it back between his lips and in the back of your head you knew it wouldn’t be only one more.

it was never only one more with him.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fluff

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meiliarotten · 5 months

Text

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 10: Metal In Your Mouth (Body Mods)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairing: Demoman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Demoman has some interesting piercings

Tags: Piercings, oral, teasing, deepthroating

Word Count: 2.4k

The Masterlist

“Before we start…” Demoman took a breath, steadying his nerves. “There’s something I should warn ye about.”

“Oh?” You glanced up at Demo from where you were seated on his lap. You had assumed you already had started, given that you were currently letting your hands wander freely over his chest. Demo sported a surprisingly soft figure. You had expected him to be more muscular, perhaps even toned, but this was quite a pleasant surprise. Having a little something to hold and grab on a man was delightful, and leaner bodies didn’t exactly offer much in that regard.

“It’s just, some things might be unexpected, and I don’t want ye to be too surprised by anything,” Demo went on, still not telling you exactly what he was so concerned about. His eyes flicked down at you, seeing you waiting patiently for him to get to the point. Even in that quick glance you could see that Demo had looked at you like something precious and delicate, a hint of concern pinching his brow.

“It’s not my first time, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Demo quickly shook his head. “No, it’s not that.”

“Is it your first time?” You were unable to hide the surprise in your voice. His response came even quicker this time.

“No, no! Not that either.” Demo shook his head, stammering and gesturing awkwardly with his hands, all of which you tried to interpret as best as you could. God, a flustered Demoman was almost harder to understand than a blackout drunk Demoman. “I just figured I should give a fair warning, ye may be a bit surprised when we…”

“When we what?” You pressed on. You had a pretty good idea of what Demo meant, but you didn’t want to make any assumptions.

“When we get undressed,” he finally sighed, feeling his face go warm with embarrassment.

As for you, you were struggling not to roll your eyes. This had to be a size thing. You had been with a fair amount of men who had tried to ‘warn’ you about either their bigger than normal or smaller than normal size, and most of the time they turned out perfectly average. “I’m sure everything will be fine. I promise,” you said, offering a kiss and some more reassurances. “I love you no matter what. You know that.”

“I love ye too,” Demo’s voice barely above a whisper, as if he feared speaking too loud would cause him to wake up from this perfect dream before him. However this was no dream, and you were about to prove that.

“Now, let’s pick up where we left off,” you said, starting to gently palm Demoman through his pants. He shuddered. You couldn’t get enough of that, loving how responsive he was to such a small gesture. “Sensitive, aren’t you? Fuck, I can feel how hard you are.” You teased him, watching his hips twitch as he struggled to keep his composure.

Your fingers traced the waistband of his briefs. The rest of his clothing already lay in a pile on the floor. You yourself were in your own state of undress, topless with nothing but a pair of figure hugging underwear. You straddled Demo’s lap, his hands holding your waist before lowering to massage little circles over the curves of your hips. “So bloody beautiful,” he whispered, almost too low for you to hear. “I want ye so badly.”

This was as far as you had ever gone with Demo. Heavy petting and touching over clothes had satisfied the two of you for the most part, especially since privacy was hard to come by at the base, but not tonight. Tonight the energy was different, everyone was out celebrating your team’s latest victory, and you wanted more. You needed more. You slipped your hand into his briefs. Your head had come to rest on his chest, and you heard his breath hitch as you quickly wrapped a hand around him before you could lose your nerve. He was half hard, but there was something else, something unexpected.

You pulled your hand back, glancing down curiously. Demoman’s demeanor immediately tended up. “Something wrong, lamb?” he asked tentatively.

“No, it’s just…” you trailed off. Before you said anything, you had to confirm your suspicion. You slipped your fingertips beneath the waistband again, looking up to meet his eye. “May I?”

He nodded and you pulled the briefs off, revealing exactly what you had presumed. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, at least for Demoman. Really, only a few mere seconds had passed before you finally spoke.

“Piercings?”

“I’ve got a few,” Demoman admitted, as if you couldn’t see them right there. A ladder of barbell piercings lined the underside of his cock, the metal pieces reflecting even the low light of the room. “I can take them out if they put ye off-”

“No, they’re fine!” you said, shaking your head. You felt embarrassed when you realized how long you had been ogling him. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. “Sorry to stare. I knew people got piercings there sometimes, I’ve just never actually seen it before.”

Demo chuckled. It was a nervous laugh, but a laugh nonetheless, putting you both a bit more at ease. “Well then, feel free to take in the sights,” he said.

You did just that, now much more eager to get both a look and feel for the jewelry. Gently, you rubbed your thumb over the piercings, feeling the bars. You weren’t oblivious to the way Demoman shivered at your touch, taking note of what kind of sensations made him react with a repressed moan or shuddering breath.

“These must have hurt,” you said nonchalantly. You still exhibited a relaxed demeanor, which Demo tried to match, albeit clumsily.

His casual shrug clashed with the way his voice wavered when he spoke. “Aye, but mercenary work has a way of toughening a lad up- ah, fuck!” Those last words came out with a hissing exhale of breath. You had begun to circle your thumb over the head of his cock while your other fingers rolled over the metal balls. “Lamb, be careful!”

You paused for a moment, backing off, worried that you had gone too far. “Am I hurting you?”

“It’s okay, ye didn’t hurt me. They’re just sensitive.” A grin spread across your face and Demo realized what he had just admitted. He sighed, knowing that you were going to take advantage of this. “Just be gentle.”

He sounded so shy when he said that, his voice unusually quiet. You rather liked seeing this side of Demoman, so soft and delicate. It was a side that he would only ever show to you, and you were honored to hold that privilege.

You flicked your tongue against the head of his cock before venturing lower, kissing along the shaft, dancing right on the edge between gentle and purposefully teasing. Your actions elicited low groans, spurring you onward. Once you were at the base, you slowly dragged your tongue back up, right along the frenum ladder.

A louder moan spilled from Demoman’s lips, and you felt his cock twitch against your tongue. “Fuck, do that again!” he gasped.

Eager to comply, you licked over the ladder again, varying your pace. Quick laps seemed to draw out short gasps while slow, languid strokes brought about more of those low moans you loved to hear. So, you took your time, relishing the texture of metal and skin mingling on your tongue in a way you had never felt before. It was interesting, and not entirely unpleasant.

Every so often you snuck a glance up at him, just barely avoiding making eye contact. You knew people sometimes enjoyed the intimacy of eye contact while recieving head, but you wanted to place all your focus on your current task. Plus, Demoman already seemed to be wrapped up in his own little world of pleasure, especially when you wrapped your lips around him and took him into your mouth without warning.

He gasped, gripping the edge of the bed. Resisting the urge to immediately buck up into the tight, wet warmth of your mouth was a struggle. You stayed still for a moment, teasing him, feeling him twitch against your tongue again. You would have smirked at that, if your lips weren’t otherwise occupied.

When you did get on with your ministrations, it was a little awkward. You had never gone down on someone with piercings before, and at first your movements came off as clumsy. Demo seemed to think it was cute, placing a hand on your head and patting you affectionately. Eventually you did get the hang of it, learning that you had to take a little extra care not to let your teeth catch in any of that metal. That part proved to be easy, given that your lips were sealed tight over them. Now with renewed confidence, you began to tease him again, laying special attention to the balls of the barbells that lined the underside. You flicked your tongue against them, rolling them, and relishing the blissful sounds that resulted from such actions.

“You’re so good, so bloody good,” Demo groaned. “Ye look real nice with my cock in your mouth, such a pretty little thing.”

His voice broke slightly. It was obvious that the dirty talk was an attempt to regain some control over the situation, to save face, but he was absolutely helpless to you. The only effect his words had were a soft pink blush dusting your cheeks, which only served to make you look even more fetching as you bobbed your head over his cock.

Your hands rested on his thighs, rubbing gentle circles against the taut muscles. The occasional shiver you felt brought immense satisfaction. Part of you wanted to hook your arms beneath his thighs, hoisting his legs up to rest on your shoulders. It was an action previous partners had done for you while giving oral, and it never failed to fluster you. However, you weren’t quite sure your shoulders were wide enough for Demo to fit comfortably, so you begrudgingly abandoned the idea.

Demoman was struggling to keep his sounds soft and restrained. It almost sounded like he was whimpering. You loved that you could have this effect on him. Using your mouth and tongue in just the right places, you gradually drew louder and more shameless sounds from him. You were taking him deeper, working past your gag reflex little by little.

“Lamb, oh bloody hell!” Demo cried, feeling you beginning to deepthroat hum. “If ye keep doing that, I’m gonna-”

“It’s okay,” you said, pulling away for just a moment and gazing up at him through your eyelashes. You were panting, your voice sounding slightly worn from taking him into your throat. It made you come off as more sultry than you expected, not that you minded. “I want to make you come, Tavish”

He didn’t get a chance to respond before you went right back to work. You took him deep, letting your tongue taste both silver and precum. Demo wasn’t going to last much longer. Sure enough, with a few more well placed laps along those barbell piercings, he was coming undone. You swallowed hard, letting him feel the contractions of your throat as he rode out his orgasm. Slowly his moans turned to whines. You felt him squirm. It was only when he reached down to tug at your hair in an attempt to get some respite that you realized you were overstimulating the poor man.

“Sorry lamb,” Demo apologized, noticing how you winced at the unexpected yank of your hair. “It was just too much.”

You smiled softly, standing up and straddling his lap. The feeling of the mattress cushioning your knees on either side of him was a welcome change from the hard floor. Demo pulled you closer, leaning in to kiss you. When you put your weight against him however, the two of you tumbled backward onto the bed with a yelp. Now splayed out with your limbs tangled together, you fell into a fit of laughter, resting your head on Demo’s chest once the moment passed,

“What about your turn?” He asked suddenly. Demo watched you with a confused look as you settled into bed with him. You had just made him come hard enough to see stars. It would be rude to not at least offer some reciprocation.

However, you simply shook your head. “I’m alright. You look exhausted, and I’m fine with just relaxing tonight.”

“Bloody hell. You’re so good to me, lass.” Demo kissed your cheek. “But tomorrow, I’ll pay it back. Ye won’t know what hit ye!”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you giggled, snuggling closer to him. “Too bad I don’t have any fancy piercings to impress you with.”

There was a lull in the conversation. You could tell Demoman was thinking, and you waited for him to break the silence. You glanced up, watching his neutral expression switch to a smirk.

“Ye know, I’ve been thinking about getting some more. Maybe a tongue piercing. Certainly would make going down on ye a bit more interesting.” If he could have, he would have winked.

Your blush returned full force. You had told Demoman he didn’t need to reciprocate, but he was making it pretty difficult to stick to your word. You squeezed your thighs together, playing it off with a laugh.

“I'm not sure I’m brave enough to get a genital piercing,” you said, trying to switch the subject to something a bit less conspicuous.

“Aye, it can be a bit much.” He looked you up and down. “I think ye should get two right here.” Demoman reached forward, pinching your nipples. He quickly let go when you squealed, opting instead to splay his hands over your chest, caressing you gently.

You tried to act annoyed as Demo chuckled at your reaction, but his laughter proved to be contagious. Both of you were high on endorphins to the point that the smallest things seemed humorous. It wasn’t long before there were tears in your eyes from how hard you were laughing.

“Maybe we can start a bit smaller,” you suggested, still trying to talk through giggles that threatened to spawn new fits of laughter. “How about a nose ring?”

Demoman, still struggling to catch his breath, gave you a soft smile, draping an arm over your body to pull you closer. “I think that’s a good start.”

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they-call-me-emmy · 4 months

Text

Memories - Tara Carpenter

I'm using da lyrics from 'Memories' by my angelic sweet angel face Conan Gray. I worship him. Thank you.

i dont even know how to classifiy this or whatever but lie eyhahh

yey.

It's been a couple months That's just about enough time For me to stop crying when I look at all the pictures

The Polaroids on your bed sheet. The small, scribbled dates in blue sharpie on the back. The way you genuinely looked happy in the photo. The way your own face looked back at you. The way her face looked back at you. It's been months. Get over it. That's what your friends tell you. What your family tells you. What you tell yourself.

Now I kinda smile, I haven't felt that in a while It's late, I hear the door Bell ringing and it's pouring

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision and causing the lights to disable it completely. You needed to put these pictures down. Throw them away, lock them up, anything. Anything to make you stop looking. The sad, sarcastic laugh escapes your throat and you feel weird the moment it comes out.

You jump as the doorbell rings. You don't know who it could be. Its raining outside, you can hardly see the streetlamps. Your wearing the same baggy, stained shirt you'd been wearing for the previous week and a half. It might have been hers, you honestly can't remember.

You stumble to the door, opening it and feeling your eyes widen.

I open up that door, see your brown eyes at the entrance You just wanna talk and I can't turn away a wet dog

"Tara." You say, a slight twinge of coldness to your tone, although you were too shocked and hurt to muster up enough to shoot at her.

"Y/n." She said softly, the same tone as yours but the coldness replaced with what normally you would label as guilt. But Tara doesn't feel guilty....does she?

"Can I..." You clear your throat, willing yourself not to shout or cry or blame her for everything. It takes a lot of strength to not shut the door in her face, but you've always had a soft spot for her. "Can I help you?"

"I just...I just want to talk." She stares at her feet.

"Oh."

"Okay."

But please don't ruin this for me Please don't make it harder than it already is I'm trying to get over this

You can't have this girl ruining everything. Barging back in, to 'talk'. But you knew. You knew how much you wanted her back. But you're working for it. Working on getting over it. You're trying, you really are, but fuck. It might not be working. She's making this harder by coming here, bugging you. If she'd let you be, you'd forget about her, at some point.

Right?

I wish that you would stay in my memories But you show up today, just to ruin things I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized

You wanted to forget. Have it all gone. Burn those fucking photos. But she's here, and she's real, and she's talking about how sorry she is, how her life is a mess and she needs a place to stay. And you can't do it now, you couldn't do it before and certainly not when she's crying in your living room. But you needed to get over her. You were scared.

But you're not letting me do that, 'cause tonight You're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in the fetal position Too busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say

She's been drinking. The daze in her eyes and her wobbly movements and speech would show that to anyone. She's crying, telling you she left you for your own sake, that she didn't mean it and she was just having a hard time with life.

But now you were having a hard time. Because of her. And here she was, drunkenly crying to you. And here you were, letting her back in, for what? What're you getting out of this?

But you just can't turn her away.

"I wish that you would stay in my memories" In my memories, stay in my memories

"Tara, it's not right. You should leave. You're in my past. Go."

"G-God, please Y/n...d-don't k-kick me out-t." She sniffled, and her big brown eyes filled with more tears and suddenly you felt guilty, like kicking a bird from it's nest. But this wasn't her place. She didn't live here, you weren't with her. She had no right to stay.

But for some crazy reason you'd definitely regret in a day, you let her stay.

Now I can't say goodbye if you stay here the whole night You see, it's hard to find an end to something that you keep beginning Over and over again

"Can I stay over?" She asked you softly, her eyes wide and you couldn't say no.

Why can't you ever say no?

You knew that you'd never leave her behind if she kept coming back, forcing her way back into your heart. You knew you'd never get over her when she's laying on you couch like she used to, eyes closed and a sweet, innocent aura surrounding her sleeping figure.

I promise that the ending always stays the same So there's no good reason in make believing that we could ever exist again

You weren't ever going to go back to the way it was. She needs to stop trying. There's nothing in your favor. In your relationships favor. There's nothing that makes you two an important couple. You were just two people. You couldn't be with her anymore. That ship had sailed, and relationships never last through the second round.

I can't be your friend, can't be your lover Can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love With somebody other than me

You couldn't be her friend, it's too much to bear. The knowledge that you'd been with her, felt her, held her and loved her was too much. And she knew that. You couldn't be her girlfriend again. That hadn't worked out the first round, why would you suffer to try to survive the second? But she can't feel a connection, no, because then, she'd be stuck pity filled and guilty, and she too, just like you, would never move on and never find love. But it can't be with you, and it will never be because god fucking dammit that didn't work out and you ruined your chance. She ruined your chance.

She ruined this for you, and there was no going back. There was no fixing what had been broken.

And for that, she deeply regretted.

I clearly cannot write sad stuff

please comment because those are my favorites <3

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you

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fangsyouverymuch01 · 4 months

Text

If walls could talk

This is part 1, and part 2 is already up. Here is the LINK!

Summery: You awake from the crash, no memories of the life before. Not even a name to guide you in the right direction. However, there are two thing you do know. 1. You can handle a blade. 2. There is a strangely familiar voice echoing in your skull. With your newfound companions at your side, could anything possibly go wrong in your search for a cure and answers?

Note: Hi, I'm really nervous about posting again :)) but a certain game has me feeling horny. This is chapter one out of ??? and I really only did this for myself but decided that other might like it as well.

Ship: Astarion x tav, Astarion x durge

Words: 1, 3 k

Warnings: Blood, handsome vampire :), eventually smut, death

PS! I have not gone through this text so sorry for any misspellings.

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“I’m alive….? “

Normally that wouldn’t be a question, but then again, nothing was normal about any of this. How the hells were you on a mindflayer ship? How did any of this happen? Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to recall the events leading up to your abduction.

Nothing. A blank space.

Snapping out of your train of thought, you feel a breeze followed by slamming waves. To your confusion, the breeze smelt of burning. Whipping your head parallel to the stirring water, there it was - the nautiloid. Your heartbeat quickens as you search for your dagger. To your dismay, the holster is empty.

“Hells.” slips from your lips as you scan your surroundings for that damn dagger.

Pressed against the sand, you agilely seek cover in the nearby rock formation. The cover provides insight into the burning crash site, where squirming and screeching can be heard. You are not the only one miraculously surviving this crash it seems.

“Get out of my head!” a woman shouts.

The voice is familiar, if not identical to the woman's voice trapped in the pod from the nautiloid. A conflict within bubbles, your chance of survival significantly increases if you intervene, However, can she be trusted? Time is not on your side, a decision must be made. Cursing again, you grab a rock and head towards the ship. The woman is clutching her head, brows furrowed and sweat coating her forehead. Before her is the thing - slimy and lilac with starving glowing eyes pressed into hers, demanding her to comply. Charging forward, you slam the rock into the mind flayers pulsing brain. Black ooze gushes from its head, decorating you and the woman entirely. A sense of euphoria washes over you as the creature's blood trickles down its neck. A wonderful sight indeed. Pulling you out of your trancelike state, the woman before you speaks.

“You again?” the woman asks as she rises from her knees, still keeping her distance.

“Not the thank you I anticipated, but I’ll take it.” you reply.

“My apologies, I only thought you…” she pauses, deciding her next words. “ I thought I was the sole survivor but I’m glad to be proven wrong.”

The woman reaches forward, extending her hand. You reciprocate the gesture.

“I’m Shadowheart.” she says and gives you a quick smile.

“I’m…” you search for a name, but it’s fruitless. “I’m actually not sure what my name is.” you reply, eyes bouncing as if trying to conjure up a memory from before the crash.

“Well, no worries, I'm sure you’ll remember soon.” Shadowheart offers.

"You're probably right, I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought.” you awkwardly chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

The two of you stand in silence but soon enough, another voice catches your attention. This time a male, urging you to seek him out. Shadowheart shoots you a discreet look, questioning if you should follow it or not. Against your better judgment, your more charitable side guides you towards the pleading. Stepping outside the ship, a man can be seen at the edge of the cliffside. Soft white curls drape along his head, pointy ears poking through the mop of hair.

“Quickly, I’ve got one of those things cornered up here!”. the man hastes.

Approaching, you tiptoe the edge to get a better look. Squinting your eyes, trying to direct your focus, your feet are swept from underneath you. Simultaneously, a hand grips your shoulder blades to soften the impact. Crashing to the ground, your mind goes blank, hands clutching for the long gone dagger.

Gods damn it.

The cool blade is pressed against your throat, ever so slightly moving as the veins pump beneath your flesh. Again that feeling returns, euphoria. Your arms fall to their sides, legs go limp - embracing your state fully. A foreign voice echoes, repeating the word salvation.

“Far too easy, I like a little restraint darling.” the man starts. “Now, tell me what you two did on the ship.”. His flirtatious tone was now dipped in poison.

Shadowheart clutched her mace, taking a step forward before speaking.

“I need her alive, step away or I will take matters into my own hands.” she firmly said.

“A feisty one.” the man snapped.

His face is mere inches from you, a whiff of bergamot reaches your nostrils that pulls you out of your trance. Crimson eyes restraint your gaze from faltering. How utterly pretty you think to yourself. Were you not in this peculiar situation, you would’ve gladly kept staring into the warm pools of ruby red.

An energy pulls the three of you into a throbbing headache, muffling the crashing waves below and dulling the red eyes before yours. An understanding is established, like you and Shadowheart, he too, is infected with a tadpole wriggling in his cortex. The blade is skillfully swept from your neck and the two of you rise from the ground.

“Well, my apologies dear, I thought you were the reason that I’m stranded at this awful beach with a worm in my head.”.

“I’m starting to think my generosity has reached its quota for today.”.

Reaching from behind your back, you twirl your newfound dagger in your hand, taunting him. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. It was too easy not to borrow it, especially since he had no problem using his tricks on you.

"This will be payment enough for being the second one today to use my skull as a play thing."

“What in the hells..” the man frantically reaches for his dagger, but soon realization hits and he offers you a smirk.

“What’s your name rouge?” you ask, eyes focusing on the edge of the dagger.

“Give me my dagger and then we’ll talk.”

Unfazed by his words you begin testing the daggers’ weight, rhythmically shifting your weight to move with the blade. A fine blade indeed you conclude. In a swift motion, his hand connects with your wrist. Flipping the handle forward in your grasp, you aim at your clutched wrist, threatening to puncture his pale skin. A victorious grin spreads on your lips but is challenged by a cool sting in your abdomen. Another dagger.

That piece of shi-.

“Touche.” he smirks.

“Your name, I will not ask again.” you spit back.

“Astarion.” he smiles as he shifts his gaze from one of your eyes to the other. “And yours?” he continuous.

Gods, he truly was the most beautiful man you ever saw. If only he weren't such a prick.

“I-.. I don't remember” you stutter as annoyance is mixed with your piqued interest in the pretty man.

The two of you stand intertwined, daggers pressed against each other's flesh.. His bergamot scent dancing in the breeze, garnet eyes looming over your being and that stupid smirk plastered on his lips. You notice the vicinity between your bodies and are reminded by the closeness of it all. It’s all so intimate. A flush spreads through your heaving chest and reddens your cheeks.

“Both of you stop it, we need to locate a healer. I’m sure there’s one in Baldurs Gate..”

At that you allow Astarion to grab his dagger, and he does but not before lingering on your face for a second longer than needed. His gaze is scrutinizing and the already apparent blush deepens in color. He sees through you and he knows it.

Does he see more than you know yourself?

“This has been a pleasure, but I’m afraid this is where we part ways.” he pauses and continues by nodding in your direction.”I don't trust rouges.”.

“Good thing I’m not one then.” you interject.

He smiles again.

“Full of surprises aren't you?”

“And I thought this day couldn’t get worse..” Shadowheart mutters under her breath, earning a chuckle from Astarion.

Shadowheart cuts the atmosphere by grabbing your hand and disapprovingly shakes her head, pulling you towards a grassier area and a road up ahead. The road is mixed with an array of stones and sand. An almost too perfect road, manmade one might say. A village must be nearby. Having calmed down, Shadowheart gestures Astarion to follow you both. The man complies, picking up his pace and the three of you venture forth.

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x dark urge #astarion fanfic #astarion x you #durge x astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #shadowheart #the dark urge #bg3 durge #larian studios #fanfic #shadowheart x reader #dnd #dark urge #tav #baldurs gate tav

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rachalixie · 2 years

Note

hi love, im having a bit of a rough week dealing with a death in my family and was wondering if you wouldn’t mind writing me some type of comfort oneshot :( something fluffy with channie helping get through these types of times with lots of physical touch (i desperately need a hug from that man) maybe? if not it’s alright :) thanks love, have a good day !! 💛

hi honey. first off, i’m so so sorry for your loss. you know where to find me if you ever want to talk (about this or if you need a distraction or literally anything ily). but i hope this helps! i drew from my own experience with loss for this one so if it doesn’t fit i will be happy to write you something else!! sending you so many hugs

a hand cards it’s way through your hair, gentle enough not to wake you if you hadn’t already been drifting between sleeping and consciousness. you move to lean into his palm, nose twitching when the movement announces the itchy, dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

“hi love,” his soft voice croons from above you, his nails scratching gently at your scalp. “breakfast?”

“no,” you squint up at him, frowning. “don’t wanna get out of bed.” it’s not that you don’t want to leave, it’s that you don’t have the energy. you want nothing more than for today to be a normal day, being woken up by him leaving the bed instead of the exhaustion making you stay in bed until noon. he clicks his tongue, not accepting your answer, and he brushes the hair off of your forehead one more time before pulling you out of bed and dragging you into the kitchen.

when you walk out there isn’t a five course meal ready on the table and you’re grateful. you don’t think you could have handled any grand gestures today, when every step feels like a heavy burden on your heart. instead there’s a jug of nondairy milk and a half eaten box of cereal and you think that’s all you could stomach right now anyways.

he silently pours you a bowl, cereal first and then milk instead of the other way around, knowing that you’re not up for a playful argument right now. you’re so grateful for the way he can read you like this, knowing your needs more than you yourself. he stares pointedly at the bowl when you don’t pick up your spoon for several moments, and you take a tentative bite, slow and lethargic. he nods in approval and you take another, moving as if in a trance until all the floating cereal has been scooped up and eaten.

the tears have come and gone these past few days, but the urge is a constant. if you let go of your self control at any moment the heat of them race down your cheeks, leaving you overwhelmed and exhausted. you’re too lost in the thought of eating to notice that it’s happening now, only jerking into the present when a drop of salty water splashes into your leftover milk. it only makes you cry harder, sniffling aggressively to try and stop the waves you know you can’t tame. you don’t even feel sad, you feel numb, but your body’s responding to something that your brain doesn’t have the bandwidth to.

he takes your bowl away, clearing away the table before taking your hands in his and pulling you up. he cups your face, making your eyes meet his, adoration shining in them making your heart flutter for a second. one hand moved to cradle the back of your head, pulling it into his chest while the other wraps around your back, keeping you secure and safe.

your tears wet his shirt, but he doesn’t say a word. he rubs small circles into your back, leaving your skin feeling warm under his touch, grounding you as you sniffle and try to breathe.

“it’s going to be okay,” he almost sings, his voice humming through his chest into your ear. no it’s not, you want to say, how can it be? but with his touch all over you, his heartbeat under your ear and his breathing moving his chest, you finally allow yourself to break down in the hope that it might be okay.

soft hours

#stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #skz chan fluff #chan fluff #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #soft #chan x y/n #chan comfort #chan x you #chan x reader #stray kids x gender neutral reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x stay

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adrift-in-thyme · 6 months

Text

Whumptober Day 26: "Sometimes I get so tired; I don't even know myself" + "You look awful"

This one's for @uncleskyrule who suggested a fic about "Sky being tired of being tired"

Read it on Ao3

- Sky & Warriors

- Summary: With nightmares persistently keeping him up at night, Sky struggles with exhaustion

CW for brief mention of blood and injury

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Sky dresses methodically.

Every movement is thoughtless and automatic, done with the precision of one who has gone through these motions too many times to count. An outer tunic slips over his inner one, his belt fastens around his waist. Then, comes his sailcloth, secured around his neck. The feel of it draping down his back and the soft, familiar scent that wafts up from it are comforting at least. But they cannot wipe away the remnants of the dreams that claw at his mind and soul. They cannot rid him of the exhaustion that threatens to overpower him even now.

Last night had been yet another agonizing march of hour after hour filled to the brim with turbulent storms and violent images. Another night where he had awoken with a start, pressing a hand to his mouth lest he let loose a scream.

The nightmares aren’t prophetic…at least not as far as he can tell (and if they are? If he has pushed them aside when he shouldn’t have and their contents come to fruition? Well…Sky doesn’t know what he’ll do then. Prophetic dreams, though meant to warn, aren’t always as effective at doing so as one would think.)

But no. These are only the normal, run-of-the-mill, baggage from being a hero nightmares. They have to be.

The ones where Zelda is still falling and Demise leers down at him as he lies there in the water, choking on mouthfuls of blood.

He can deal with those. He can.

Only…sometimes he wishes he didn’t have to.

“Ready to go, Sky?”

It’s Wind, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. Sky smiles at him.

“Yeah, I’m ready, sailor.”

He pushes himself to his feet and follows the hero to where their brothers stand. They are all dressed and armored now, weapons clean and ready, sleep wiped from their eyes. Hylia only knows what will greet them along the road. They all know they have to be ready for anything.

Though, today is one of those agonizing days when Sky certainly doesn’t feel ready for anything. Except for bed, perhaps.

He’s exhausted, he realizes, dimly, as he trudges along the forest path, staring dazedly at Legend’s back. And it isn’t that shocking. He had known, after all, with the distant certainty of one merely existing. It had nagged at him all morning, through breakfast and packing, through dressing and washing up in a nearby stream. It had tugged and pulled at him, begging that he surrender to the sweet release of slumber.

As he walks in a smothering haze, it still does.

He should be used to it by now. He is always tired. Every day is a fight to push through it. To prevail in a battle he seems unfit to win.

To be honest, he is more than a little tired of being tired.

But he doesn’t know how to fix it. Monsters are able to be slain, beasts and demons faced down. The terrors that rule the night, however, are undefeatable. When he conquers one, another arises, bigger and stronger and harder to endure.

Sky sighs. The nightmares aren’t going away anytime soon. He’s well past the age where he had hoped they would simply disappear into the vast sky above. So, he might as well make do with the lot he has been given.

It could be worse, after all. He has seen the looks in his brothers’ eyes when they awaken from a torturous night. Their dreams are certainly worse than his.

Yes, he decides. He can make do.

…but perhaps a nap is in order today.

Not now, though. Now, he needs to keep his eyes on the road, alert for any threats that could jump out at them.

“Doing alright, Sky?”

He startles, blinking out of his daze. Warriors has fallen in step with him. He regards him with a mixture of concern and amusement.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Sky waves a hand. “Oh, it’s fine. I’m just in my own world I guess.”

Warriors hums. “A dangerous thing for a knight. Last time I was in my own world Wild snuck a mouse into my scarf.”

Sky chuckles, relieved. He had half been expecting Warriors to condescend him for his lapse in attention.

“I wish I’d been there to see that. Must’ve been quite a sight.”

“It was,” Legend pipes up from just ahead. “You’d think a gibdo was hiding out in his clothes the way he screamed.”

Warriors shoots an irritated glance his way.

“I did not scream. I’m used to rats. I’m a city boy, remember?”

Legend waves dismissively, a smirk on his lips.

“It was a mouse, not a rat. And whatever you say, those who witnessed the event know the truth.”

Warriors’ scowl intensifies. Legend ignores it, turning instead to strike up a conversation with Hyrule.

With a sigh, the captain turns back to Sky, who is watching the whole encounter with a slight smile on his lips.

“Anyway. I was asking if you were alright. Because — and please don’t take this the wrong way — you look rough, Sky.”

Sky blinks, once, twice. It’s not unlike the captain to speak his mind. But he wasn’t quite expecting such a blatant callout.

“I’m tired,” he says, simply. “That’s all.”

Warriors is quiet for a moment. Then, “Nightmares?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Sky swallows against the sudden dryness in his throat. It turns out there is a whole lot that is unexpected about this conversation. The captain is nothing if not perceptive, often even more so than Time or himself. But for him to have just surmised something like that…

“How…How’d you know?”

Warriors shrugs. He is no longer looking at the Skyloftian, gazing instead at the road with determined steadfastness.

“It’s not too much of a stretch to guess. All us heroes have them.” He pauses, the silence filled with the sounds of the other heroes talking and their footsteps plodding on firm ground. “And…I heard you crying a few nights this week.”

“Oh.” Sky drags in a breath, forcing his feet to move forward despite their sudden eagerness to plant themselves in the middle of the road. “I’m sorry. I usually try to keep it down so I don’t wake anyone.”

“No, no, don’t apologize.” Warrior sets a hand on his shoulder. “I understand, believe me. I think it comes with the job description, unpleasant though that may be.”

Sky walks a few steps in silence, slightly hunched in on himself. The day suddenly feels a hundred times heavier than before. Which is saying something, given how badly it had started.

“I had them before,” he says, finally, a mumble more than anything else. Warriors turns to him with a raised eyebrow and Sky meets his gaze, dully. “Before I became a hero, I mean. I’ve had them for as long as I can remember. And some of them…some of them come true.”

Warriors nods, understandingly. “Well, I don’t think you’re the only one here who’s had that experience either.”

“I just wish they’d go away.” He breaths it, almost like he's afraid that if he says it any louder the sky will fall. “I’m so tired.”

He has stopped in the middle of the road, now, sagging beneath the weight of his admission. He is dimly aware of Wind halting next to him, a worried “Sky?” on his lips. Warriors nudges him onward and the others go with him, sensing the need for privacy.

“I’m sorry.” Sky shakes his head, trying to clear the darkness from his brain. Dragging his gaze up from where it had fallen to stare down at his boots, he offers Warriors a small smile. “I didn’t mean to…I don’t mean to complain. I’m fine, really.”

The captain gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’re fine, Sky. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I only wish I could do more.”

Sky hums and keeps that smile plastered on his face.

I wish you could too. --------

The rest of the day drags by at the speed of a slug. Warriors remains by his side as they travel and his presence is a comfort. But exhaustion tugs at him with every step, muddling his thoughts and slurring his speech, until Sky is ready to flop down in the grass and let everyone go on ahead.

When they stop at last to make camp, he is more than a little relieved.

Dinner is a hazy blur, the conversations wafting and curling around him like the smoke from the fire. And halfway through it, Sky feels himself begin to drift. He tries to keep his eyes open, he tries to stay alert. But his body has had enough of his constant fighting. Before he knows it, his eyes have slipped closed.

Someone gently tugs the bowl of unfinished stew out of his hands, while someone else drapes a blanket over his shoulders. With a contented sigh, Sky slumps sideways, cheek colliding with someone’s shoulder. For being such a bony part of the body, he finds this particular shoulder quite comfortable. It's warm here, safe. And when his makeshift pillow puts an arm around him, he can’t resist snuggling closer.

Dimly, he registers the sounds of people shifting positions, rustling clothing and shuffling feet. Then, the warmth intensifies as the other heroes cuddle in around him. Sky manages to drag his eyes open just long enough to make out the blurred forms of his brothers, before he loses the strength to even do that.

He drifts off, sandwiched in between them all, Warriors’ arm holding him close, blanketed by a haze of warmth and life and light. And that night, no nightmares come to haunt him.

#whumptober 2023 #no.26 #“sometimes i get so tired; i don't even know myself”#“you look awful”#linkeduniverse #fic #blood tw #injury tw #trin writes #lu sky #lu warriors #hurt/comfort #angst #thanks for the suggestion reyna <33 #I enjoyed projecting my tiredness onto sky lol

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hitlikehammers · 2 months

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could be something

rating: t ♥️ cw: softness, recovering from the upside down ♥️ tags: pre-relationship, post-s4, fluff, Eddie is having so many feelings, Eddie is not a strong man, but Eddie can be a brave man, Steve Harrington being a devoted caretaker to a T

for @steddielovemonth day seventeen: Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him. (@starryeyedjanai)

this definitely takes place chronologically after this one so: have the next little step toward these codependent knuckleheads figuring their big feelings out ♥️

When he put his mind to thinking on it—as in, thinking with thoughts versus general technicolor swollen-heart sighing of his whole fucking self, body and soul and just, all of it, the whole of him, when it comes to this: but when Eddie did focus on the thinking part, he thought maybe Steve was, like, a fixture. Like something that defined the home-feeling he has in this room that should be fucking sterile, no matter how long he’s populated it so far: it’s a fucking hospital. It shouldn’t feel…comfortable. Like: no part of this should feel anything but abrasive, and offensive to his sensibilities to the point of wanting; needing to get out at soon as humanly possible.

Which he does: he wants to get out bad. But, like, getting out will be good, for the obvious reasons, but also because Steve will still be there—which is why Eddie first thought Steve was like, a point of association. Eddie had his surviving guitar, some of his cassettes, a tape deck, his Monster Manual, the Corroded Coffin banner that’d somehow survived and was somehow allowed in a hospital room, photos of the band, of the sheepies who weren’t really sheepies were they, they were brothers-in-arms, then some of his new comrades, Wheeler Senior and Robs, and a drawing that’s recognizably from the campaign before Vecna’s Curse, for obvious reasons, but it’s from the mini Byers who Eddie barely knew, and who certainly wasn’t there for the campaign he’s illustrated, but the art was fucking sick, and there’s his mug from the trailer, the Garfield one, not the newer one but the one that’s missing at ear, and there’s—

Steve.

All of this together, he figures, makes it soft, and safe, and gentle around him at all hours of the night when nightmares try to grab him, or when the poking and the prodding got too much before it finally died down, once they were convinced he was going to survive and also not end up a weird otherworldly hybrid monster (which was why he wanted his Manual in the first place, so he could helpfullypoint out suggestions as to what these goddamn feds-in-white-coats must think was lurking beneath Eddie’s skin ready to fucking strike): and Steve’s always there to hides his laughter behind a cough in the corner when Eddie suggests maybe they think he’s sprout horns, or did they want to check for fangs again, he can open wide—just like he’s always there to grab Eddie’s hand and ground him, talk him down into reality again after the worst of the nightmares.

His hand, like that, is what…starts Eddie thinking a little harder about, y’know. Things.

The soft squishy stuff he’s been hiding from with all the excuses in the world that really…really can’t hold the tides back anymore, because this thing, this soft-squishy-warm-immense thing, is bigger than anything Eddie’s ever felt. Not lust, not hope, not pie-in-the-sky wishing, not even pain.

And Eddie’s recently become very fucking familiar with that last one. So that’s saying something.

But Steve’s hand is always ready for Eddie to grab, ready to hold and be held, ready to be an anchor or a touch to soothe and Eddie…

Eddie’s not fucking stupid, right, okay: Steve’s hand in Eddie’s hand makes him think about Steve’s hand in his hand, specifically: the one time Steve’s hand lifted Eddie’s hand to his mouth, to his lips.

Like: intentionally.

It’s when they decide to move him into a step-down room, like a rehab-focused ward or something—and that’s good, that’s like, reallygood, and Eddie’s just that step closer to getting the fuck out of this place, and so they’re taking down all the stuff to move with him, right, and Eddie expects it when he feels a little empty, a little stir-crazy, a little paranoid and startling easy sounds that should even be weird, should be commonplace now, but he tenses, sometimes he jumps, and sure his nerves feel all…pins-and-needly, of course, because the fixtures of home have been stripped away and the room’s just white walls and machines he’s not currently hooked to, and and IV pole-thingy he doesn’t even use anymore, and one single fake flower in a little green-glass vase with real water for no fucking reason and—

“Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

And it’s in those sterile white walls with the fake flower in the water, with none of the touchings of home that Eddie looks up, meets those smiling eyes and realizes like a slap to his fucking face: Steve’s not a goddamn fixture, an associative suggestion of home.

Steve…Steve is the sun he orbits; Steve’s the gravity that holds him down. Steve’s not just home, he’s the only way Eddie gets to know home; if Eddie’s a planet, he gets to move in space because of his star; get to live and breathe for the light and the warmth that star gifts him, and, and—

Fucking hell.

Eddie nods, and that’s a fucking feat, and he lets Steve pull him to his feet even if he’d have been able to himself, five minutes ago, before his concept of existence at its core got turned fucking sideways and shit.

So Eddie moves rooms. And all his shit is set up exactly like it had been in the first room, and Eddie suspects Steve had a big fucking part in making that happen, because Steve? Steve is, is, he’s…

He’s Steve.

And Eddie’s world kinda starts to…narrow. Not like it did when everything was going dark and he thought it was the end, but it feels almost as desperate, arguably just as dire, just, like, really fucking different.

But Eddie stares: first at Steve’s hands; first where they lie together, where they tangle sometimes, where Steve traces along the lines of his knuckles, the blue of his veins. Then it’s Steve’s hands always: in his lap, shoving Robin playfully, ruffling Henderson’s hair, pouring water Eddie doesn’t need poured for him but hell if Steve will listen on the point, running through his own hair, fisting in it when he’s at loose ends, when it’s Eddie who reaches out wordless—not least because he doesn’t have the words for this at all—and fucking feelshimself brighten, feels something in him blossom new and fresh and joyous when Steve grips his hand back and sits: plays with his fingers, spins the rings he’s allowed to have now, knows where they go back when he meticulously removes them all and slides them into place again and if that shit doesn’t fry the wires in Eddie brain, if that motion and that feeling, with Steve’s fucking hands doesn’t send Eddie’s heart into goddamn convulsions, he’s—

That’s the state of things. When Eddie’s fixated on their hands.

But then…then it gets worse. Because Eddie remember the whole of it, the why for his being obsessed with those hands, and his focus shifts accordingly: because what did Steve do, what did he press sweet and soft and magnetic and like a fucking inferno against Eddie’s goddamn skin?

So, yes: of course it’s those goddamn lips.

Steve chews them when he’s thinking; not hard, and more like…like sucking and ain’t that a bitch for Eddie’s frayed-to-hell nerves. And he licks them almost for no reason, and Eddie so fucking lucky he’s not on that EKG anymore because holy hell, that’d be a problem.

And when he does those things, and then he talks, the motions are…they’re all wet and shiny and a little swollen and Steve kissed his hand, didn’t he, he definitely did, at the very least he brushed his lips there, twice, and didn’t make any motion to move away or cut it short and, and, he—

“Eds?”

Eddie blinks; he was looking at Steve already—has been, of course he fucking has been, because if Steve is here sure as shit Eddie wants to look, what else could be more important, more entrancing, more exquisite, more—

Eddie blinks. Steve’s watching him with the kind of expectation that almost always means words were spoken that…required some kind of answer. A response of some sort.

Eddie has no idea what the words Steve happened to have been saying…were, exactly. He knows they sounded beautiful, musical, because Steve’s voice is those things; he knows the lips they came out of are memorizing as fuck and—

“What’s wrong, Eds?”

And leave it to Saint Steve, to jump to worry, jump to helping, to scoot his chair closer and then give up, to just perch next to Eddie on his bed and grab his hands and—

Eddie’s not a strong man, y’gotta understand that.

“Can I?” Eddie blurts, no thoughts, no plans, just this… this need in him.

“Yes.”

Eddie blinks.

“You don’t even know what it is,” he protests against his own goddamn interests because Steve’s so…so casual. So sure and suave and just, just…

“I’d let you do just about anything,” Steve shrugs, and if the tops of his cheeks pink-up a little? Well, again:

Eddie. Is. Not. A. Strong. Man.

“Steve,” Eddie exhales in a huff, and then he chokes out something like a laugh; “Stevie,” and that’s a whine, nothing else for it, it’s a pleading sound, the kind you make as the hammer fucking falls; “you cannot just say that shit, man—“

“I’m not allowed to say shit I mean?” Steve tilts his head, and his lips quirk that tiny bit and he’s maddening, he’s stunning, he is—

“Steve,” Eddie almost wheezes his name, he’s so fucking breathless, his heart’s such a fucking riot in his chest—it is wholly humiliating and he can’t even care because Steve’s hand is still in his hand and Steve’s here and he’s—

“What do you want, Eddie?”

And now it’s Eddie’s turn to lick his lips, to chew the bottom one and suck on the top between his teeth because…

“You,” he starts, and that’s good, that’s a beginning, you gotta start at the beginning; “you,” repetition, so Steve, like, knows who Eddie is talking to among the no-other-people in the room; “on my hand,” and he moves his thumb along Steve’s hand in the spaces he remembers, will never fucking forget so long as he lives: the places on his hand that Steve graced with his lips and Eddie can be brave, he might not be strong but he can be brave, maybe, or else try–

“Did you—“

And they both turn, because the sound of footsteps is distant but approaching; the squeak of tennis shoes, it’s almost definitely one of the kids and Steve wilts the slightest bit, imperceptible really but Eddie’s watching, so Eddie fucking sees, and Eddie…

Eddie can’t have that.

So he pulls Steve’s hand to his mouth and he kisses at the heel of his palm, kisses at his wrist where the pulse is furious just lip Eddie’s, the most glorious gift of a touch that Eddie of all people gets to fit his lips around and not just feel, no: he gets to taste, and he has to pull back and let go fast, the footsteps are so close but Steve’s pupils are so big and, yes, yeah, okay: okay.

This could be something.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #pining #pre-relationship #softness #as in: I might have gone harder than even I normally go on the softness here #post-S4 #recovering eddie musnon #steve feels like HOME to eddie #but more than that: steve feels like the STAR EDDIE ORBITS AROUND #they HOLD HANDS #like they hold hands a LOT #there is MORE HAND KISSING this time #they are SO SOFT #steddielovemonth #love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him #stranger things

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goddess-in-heaven-and-hell · 11 months

Text

Hand in Hand, Heart to Heart Part II - Gwynriel One-Shot

Hey hoooo! This is long and smutty and such fun to write lol.

Warnings: swearing, massages, fingering, oral (f receiving)

Word count: 5.6k

It’s funny how slow the mind works when you’ve just awoken it from a deep rest. Gwyn noticed the white light creeping through the curtains first, little pieces of dust dancing in the brightness. Then she noticed the heavenly feeling of warmth surrounding her body from all sides, the softness of the sheets against her skin. It made her want to never get up.

Reality started to set in a few seconds after that wishful thinking. Training, breakfast, her work in the library. And no Azriel beside her to make her morning just that little bit more magical.

With a loud, annoyed sigh, Gwyn detangled herself from the sheets and started her morning routine. It was weird how everything about the routine, and everything in the room, reminded her of Azriel. Usually, he’d have given her her hundredth kiss by now. He’d be utterly unhelpful when she tried to dress in her leathers, complaining about how he’d much rather train her in private, with less restrictive clothing. He’d sit with her in silent contemplation while she practiced a bit of mind-stilling, sometimes even doing it with her.

As Gwyn made her way outside to the roof of the house of wind, another unusual scene reminded her of his absence. Only one Illyrian warrior prepared for their class in the training ring, huffing and puffing as he lifted bits of heavy weaponry and obstacles into their respective places.

Gwyn never thought of herself as someone who would grumble and complain when their significant other was gone for a while, but noticing all the ways he should be in her life at this moment made her want to share it with him even more.

“Good morning. What’s with the face?”, Nesta came up from behind her, briefly hugging her to her side. She looked gorgeous as always, her hair tied neatly into a ponytail, the tight leathers flattering her every curve.

“Morning. I’m just watching Cassian and contemplating how painful of a death we will die today.”, the white lie tasted sour in her mouth. She wanted to tell Nesta, but at the same time felt a bit weak admitting that she missed her boyfriend. She was a Valkyrie, for the Mother’s sake, winner of the Blood Rite. Was it normal to be so attuned to another person?

Nesta observed her for a bit, her eyes narrowed slightly. “If you say so.”

Gwyn was luckily saved from the conversation as more and more Valkyries and priestesses arrived in the ring, chatting amongst themselves and making their way towards Cassian.

“We should get going.”, Gwyn murmured and started moving without waiting for Nesta.

The training was truly as hard as it looked. Cassian led the big group of females through a warm-up that might as well be considered a full workout, before they moved on to strength training. A minute never felt longer than when you had to spend it in a plank position, with a heavy rock pressing you down from your back. Honestly, maintaining her energy was a lot harder when she didn’t have that little extra motivation she usually got from showing off to Azriel.

During their little break Gwyn practically inhaled her water, Nesta and Emerie flanking her and looking no better.

“You’d think you did a good joy wearing the man out every night. But Illyrian bodies are no joke.”, Emerie grumbled towards Nesta with an accusatory stare.

Nesta just snorted, the gesture slightly less dismissive and cool when done during heavy inhales of breath. “I clearly do too much of the work.”

“Okay, Ladies, gather around!”, Cassian shouted from the middle of the ring, motioning the tired females into action.

Gwyn looked at Nesta over her shoulder, agreeing with the evaluation of her sex life. “Clearly.”

Another hour spent on conditioning with a practice sword tied to their back and Gwyn was well and truly exhausted. It had helped her mind a bit, though, her concentration now clearer than before. She was ready to tackle her work for the day when a deep voice shouted her name.

“Hey, Gwynie!”

That was Cassian, jogging towards her as she had already been on her way to the stairs.

“Do you have a minute?”, he came to a stand next to her, aggravatingly looking just as relaxed as before training, even though he joined in during most of the exercises.

“Sure.”, Gwyn shot him a smile, immediately perking up a bit. If Cassian wanted to talk to her, it was usually about Nesta or Azriel. Gwyn prayed to the Mother that he had news.

“I’ve received a note from Az this morning.”, he started. Gwyn’s next exhale was one of pure relief. Her Shadowsinger was alive and well. Her day already looked ten times brighter. “He said that he’ll wrap up his work within the next week. There has been a minor complication, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He said to expect him back around Saturday.”

Saturday. It was only Monday and the male had been gone for a good two weeks. Which was extra hard on the nerves if you knew he is in potentially dangerous situations daily.

Gwyn nodded. “Thanks for telling me. I’ve been a bit worried.”

Cassian flashed her his easy, gentle smile. “I’ve been worried, too. I swear the bastard forgets to message me on purpose. He’s only doing it more regularly now because the message is meant for you as well.”

“You know me, always eager to help.”, the priestess tried to joke, but the line of worry didn’t move from her face. Cassian noticed too.

“He also said to tell you that he misses you and he will hurry.” Cassian had always been the gentle giant, way too attuned to emotions for his brutal looks.

Gwyn pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling a bit. What was wrong with her?

“You know, its normal to miss your partner during times like this.”, he said carefully. Gwyn cursed herself silently for letting that much of her misery slip onto her face. “When Nesta was taken from me during the Rite I was beside myself. Nearly mad from the need to be with her. I know Az didn’t enter a Rite, and you two aren’t mated. But what he does isn’t exactly a picknick in a park either.”

It felt good for Gwyn to hear that. If even Cassian’s emotions depended heavily on Nesta’s presence and her well-being, then maybe her own yearning was more normal than she thought.

It made going through the day a bit easier. Not just this day, but the rest of the week as well. She trained hard, ate her breakfast in calming silence, then ventured down into the heart of the house to begin her day under Merrill’s strict supervision. Manuscript after manuscript went by her and if it weren’t for the big clock announcing the end of the work day, she’d have probably worked through the night. Only during dusk services she snapped out of her trance. The Mother deserved her whole attention, after all. And weirdly, it made her feel more connected to Az as well. He sometimes joined the service, if he found time in his busy schedule, and nothing made Gwyn happier then when he sang the traditional hymns with everyone.

After her Friday service, Gwyn found her way to her and Azriel’s bedroom, legs feeling like lead, head like jelly. It had been a tough week, and the priestess was glad it came to an end. She reminded herself that, also, there was only one more sleep before her love will be with her again. The thought brought a smile to her face that felt a bit foreign, like the muscles usually used for it left with Azriel.

She didn’t even notice him, so engrossed in her own world. But to be fair, he had a way of hiding in the dark.

“I sincerely hope it was the thought of me that brought that beautiful smile to your face.”

Gwyn stopped dead in her tracks. How did she not see him? The hallway was dark, yes, but for a girl that barely had anything else on her mind than him, it was a bit embarrassing.

Azriel was leaning against the wall leading to the corridor of their room, surprisingly not looking like he just came back from a mission. His hair looked freshly washed and soft, siphons and leathers discarded for some more comfortable cotton clothes. He appeared to be exhausted though, the dark under his eyes mirroring his dancing Shadows.

Gwyn couldn’t believe her eyes as she drank him in like she’d never seen him before. Mother, did he get more handsome? With a few quick steps she stood before him, flinging her arms around his neck and finally – finally – feeling his lips against hers. Azriel met her halfway, clearly just as eager to have her in his arms again. His wings folded around her, too, cocooning her in the feel of her Shadowsinger.

“I’ve misses you so much.”, she whispered against his chest when their lips parted, way too happy to see him again to remove herself from his form.

“I’ve missed you more.”, he laughed, pressing a gentle kiss on top of her head. “I’ve never flown so fast in my life. Or took bigger leaps when Shadowtravelling. You truly inspire me to be better.”

He smiled down at her, his eyes glowing with love and happiness. Gwyn probably looked the same – just hopefully less exhausted.

Her fingers lightly roamed over his face, feeling the tightness in his jaw, the hollow of his cheek. “You need to rest, Az. Have you eaten?”

Azriel shook his head. “I’ve come straight here, made myself presentable again and then waited. My body needed to see you more than it needed food.”

Gwyn narrowed her eyes at him, unsure if he was joking or not. His face stayed in that serious, relaxed state. “More than food? You have weird priorities, Shadowsinger.”

He angled his head to the side, his brows jumping up slightly. “If you had yourself as a girlfriend, you’d consider yourself a top priority as well.”

“Mhh, I might.”, Gwyn said in a fake-cocky voice, “I would also consider myself Queen of the World, and I would bring myself chocolate daily to stay in my good graces.”

She took his hand while talking, leading him to their room.

“Then, I’d give myself nice, long back massages, treat myself to a new book every week… actually, make that two.”

Azriel shook his head in disbelief. “Should I start taking notes, Berdara?”

“You should.”, Gwyn stated matter-of-fact, hand already on the doorknob of their room, “I mean, surprising your girlfriend in coming home earlier is pretty good, too. But you could really level up by listening…”

Her voice trailed off as she took in the room that opened in front of her. Azriel had been taking notes, it seemed. And he was damn efficient at putting them into action.

The whole room was lit up by candles, curtains and windows open to let in the quiet, warm night. On her bedside table stood a vase of white roses, and – Mother – a box of her favorite caramel chocolates. If you looked up the definition of ‘romance’ in the library, this exact picture will be found.

“Good enough, priestess?”, Azriel asked from behind her, voice dry from sarcasm and satisfaction. “Must be, if it managed to shock you into silence.”

Note taking her ass. That male could write a whole book about giving Gwyn princess treatment, it seemed.

“Az.”, her voice should have come out strong and excited. Instead, it cracked, her eyes burning already from the pent-up emotion inside her. She must have done something very right in her past life to deserve someone like him.

“It’s my way to apologize for being gone so long.”, he said, coming up beside her to squeeze her hand in his. “I know it’s not going to magic away what I do, and me having to travel. But I hope it makes up for it a little.”

He placed a revered kiss on her knuckles. Gwyn still tried to process the beauty of the room, the thoughtfulness of her partner. “Az, you don’t need to apologize. I’ve known what you do since before we started being together. I’m just happy you are home safe.”

They found each other in a tight embrace again. Gwyn felt Azriel’s heart beat steadily in his chest, his Shadows and his hands taking turns in caressing her back. This was worth the time spent apart, she thought. Gwyn could have stayed like this forever, never tiring of the feel of his body against her or his smell surrounding her. But Azriel seemed to have plans.

“Remember when you said you’d give yourself massages?”, he murmured, gently pushing her away and towards the bed. Gwyn nodded with a grin on her face. She was going to have the time of her life. What was better than feeling Azriel’s hands on her bare back?

“I’d be happy to comply, under one condition.”, Az continued.

“And what would that be?”

“You’d have to be naked.”, he couldn’t help that one stubborn corner of his mouth lifting as he said that. Gwyn just raised her brows, sitting down on the edge of the bed to fake deep contemplation. She would strip the second he told her to, but there was no rule stating she can’t toy with him first.

“Why would I do that?”, she asked in a borderline innocent voice.

“It would be beneficial for the message, since I’d be able to reach more places.”, Azriel stated, slowly kneeling before her and reaching for her shoes. He untied one of the light slippers before sliding it off her foot, then grabbing the other. “Also, you’d not get too warm. We don’t want you overheating so early on in the evening.” Her other shoe slid off her foot, and Azriel brough his lips to the arch of it. The kiss felt like the flutter of a butterfly and sent little sparks all the way up her leg. “And lastly, you’re going to do it, because I told you so.”

His forearms came up to the bed, framing Gwyn’s hips and trapping her before him. The husky tone of his voice sent more shivers dancing on her skin. “So, do you want to get more of your sass out now, or are you going to be good for me?”

Gwyn could have sworn her heart skipped for a second. She didn’t take her eyes off Azriel as the reality of what he just said set in. This was different, more assertive than the last time they were intimate. And even though her brain didn’t comprehend yet, her body was already reacting.

“I’ll be good.”, she said, voice raspy.

Azriel nodded along, like this was the only response he accepts anyways, and made room for her to relieve herself of her clothing.

Gwyn stripped down slowly, taking her time to regain some of her senses and, in all honesty, to break through Azriel’s calm. It wasn’t fair that she felt all these feeling, while he looked like he is just about to take a stroll in the park.

Mind you, that calm façade of his started crumbling as soon as the last piece of Gwyn’s clothing hit the floor. The Shadowsinger thought that he’ll never get used to this view. It was what he had dreamt of every night he spent in the human lands, it centered him everytime he encountered a problem. Gwyn’s beauty was ethereal, unmatched by anything he has seen before. He already yearned to let his rough hand slide around her waist, to feel her soft thighs and the piece of heaven that lay between them.

“Go lie on the bed, my love. Face down.”, he said, trying to regain his previous aloofness. He had been dominant in bed frequently, and enthusiastically, but Gwyn had a way to make him want to bend over backwards for her.

He admired the way her lean muscle moved as she crawled on the bed, had to suppress a groan when her naked backside came into perfect view. Fuck, he wanted to devour her. But he if he was a master of one thing, it would have to be patience.

Azriel went to collect the oils he’d use for the massage while Gwyn got comfortable, burying her face in a soft pillow. He got settled on the side of her body, pouring the oil on his hands and warming it up between them. When he placed his palms on her bare back, Gwyn signed.

His hands were warm and heavy, languidly moving up and down her spine to spread the oil evenly. The years of handling weapons clearly paid off in moments like this. Azriel found the perfect pressure and began working on her shoulders before travelling down to her sides and her lower back. Gwyn’s body began to feel like a feather after a while, so light and relaxed she never wanted to move again in fear of losing that sensation. The Shadowsinger was thorough, working out all the knots and returning to the places she loved most over and over again. She almost drifted to sleep, almost forgot the throbbing in her core as it dulled to a manageable tingle.

Until Azriel’s hands found the backs of her thighs. New oil was applied generously, and then Gwyn was caught in the weird state between being very relaxed, and very on edge.

His thumbs just sometimes seemed to find their way to the underside of her butt, then slipping towards the inside as if by accident. But the frequency of that happening told her that it was anything but an accident. After a few minutes of that torture, Gwyn began squirming, trying to move at exactly the right time to make his hands slip even more, to the place she needed him.

“Relax, love.”, Azriel murmured from above.

Gwyn almost wanted to laugh. Relaxing was now furthest from her mind. All she needed was his finger on her clit, or inside her, or preferably both at the same time. She tried telling him as much. “Azriel, please.”

She lifted her butt up just slightly, hoping he’d get the hint. Instead, both of his hand vanished from her body.

Gwyn cursed herself for her eagerness. If she learned one thing from spending so much time with the Shadowsinger, it was that you shouldn’t hurry him.

What she didn’t know was that Azriel’s mind was already in a hurry, driven not only from Gwyn’s heavenly scent and clear impatience, but more urgently from his own desire. Moving his fingers anywhere but on or in her was a form of torture he had discovered only now. And it hasn’t only been torture for his priestess.

Snatching a smaller pillow from the head of the bed, he grabbed Gwyn’s hips with his other hand to place the cushion underneath her. “Still comfortable?”

Gwyn let out a weak noise that sounded affirmative enough, and Azriel couldn’t help grinning at the way she already was puddy in his hands. And he didn’t even start the main event yet.

With her butt perched upwards and legs spread slightly, her core was perfectly exposed. He slid his oiled thumb down her folds, not using enough pressure to part them fully, but the feeling made Gwyn release a breathy exhale nonetheless. The lavender oil already started mixing with the wetness flowing out of her.

Azriel palmed himself with his other hand, patience wearing thin. He was so hard beneath his cotton trousers that only the slightest touch of Gwyn’s hands would make him burst. But that wasn’t on the plan for today, so a bit of pressure relief from himself would have to do. The entirety of his focus was set on her core, making her come and scream in pleasure.

This thumb started to move idly up and down her pussy, slowly starting to sink deeper into her slit. The heat and moisture were unbelievable to him. It filled him with a sense of pride that he was responsible for her reaction, and that all fears and inhibitions seemingly flew out of the window. Gwyn whimpered so beautifully that he pressed his thumb down with a little more pressure now, circling her clit whenever he was on his way down, slightly dipping inside her when he came back up.

He could have done it for hours, mesmerized by the pink of her flesh and her noises. But he also knew that she was probably at the brink of an orgasm by now, her hands clawed into the sheet and brows furrowed in pleasure.

“You’ve been so patient for me. Do you want to come, love?”, he asked her with a gravely voice. Gwyn wanted to claw at him, scream at him. Yes, a hundred times yes! But she had the feeling that sassiness wouldn’t get her anywhere tonight. So instead, she assumed her best pleading voice – which wasn’t a hard feat to achieve at this point – and begged.

“Yes, please, Azriel.”

“Mh.”, Az drawled out behind her, resuming his pattern of movement. “I’ll give you a minute to do so. One second after and you’ll have to do more than begging.”

Gwyn didn’t completely register his answer before he plunged two fingers into her heat while his other finger remained firmly pressed on her clit. He fucked her with an almost brutal pace, meeting no resistance whatsoever from her body. Gwyn was glad for it, thankful he didn’t slowly ease himself in. After only a few pumps of his fingers and another swirl around her clit, she came completely undone beneath him.

“Fuck, Gwyn,” Azriel ground out. She could only assume that he felt her come with his fingers still knuckle-deep inside her and enjoyed it nearly as much as she did. “That’s it, love. Good fucking girl.”

He gave her maybe a minute to recuperate, barely enough time to get her breathing back to normal, to regain feeling in her legs. She felt the pillow being snatched from underneath her, felt her hip and then her whole body being turned on the soft sheets. With freshly regained focus, Gwyn looked up and saw a grin on Azriel that promised nothing but mischief. He lowered himself to hover above her, pupils dilated so wide no amber could be seen in his eyes.

With a soft brush of his nose against hers, he whispered, “What do you say?”

“Thank you.”, her voice was barely more than a whisper, too.

“Mhh”. The rest of his hum was swallowed by Gwyn’s lips, vibrating along the edges as he kissed her deeply.

Gwyn felt as if drunk. Floating in her own body, warm and fuzzy, and weirdly confident. Even though she gave up all her power, yielded to him, she felt free. And if the past minutes made her realize something, it was that she loved being good for him.

Azriel was the first to break the kiss, climbing off the bed and pulling Gwyn with him. The way she looked up to him with wide doe-eyes, the teal of her irises vibrant against the flush of her cheek, it made Az nearly feral with the need to have her. His damned Illyrian heritage was making his blood boil beneath the surface, all senses attuned to nothing but Gwyn. If there would have been an intruder in the House, he wouldn’t have noticed. A war could break out right outside their window and he’d see and hear nothing but her. Taste was the only thing missing from his life.

“Stand.”, he rasped out, trying to balance her wobbly legs, “Lean against the bedframe when it’s difficult.”

Gwyn nodded, her now messy hair bouncing with the movement. She reached for the seam of his shirt, desperate to feel him too, grazing her fingers along the warm patch of skin she found. But Azriel snatched her hands away, an almost violent jerk going through him. He raised her hands above her head, pinning them to the wood of the bedframe. “Don’t do that again, or I’m going to embarrass us both.”

Gwyn was disappointed. All she wanted was to feel his skin against hers. “Can you at least take you shirt off, please?”

Azriel was in a dilemma now. If he was meant to be completely dominant, a request like that would have fallen on deaf ears, or it would have led to a punishment. But he also wanted her to feel the best she possibly could. Him being fully dressed while she was completely naked had a dynamic of power in and of itself. What if she felt insecure? His inner monologue was interrupted by Gwyn.

“Azriel.”, was the one and only thing she said, her voice so full of gentleness and plea. And that one word was enough to command him. He reached for his shirt, yanking it off and then falling back into his position of pinning Gwyn against the frame.

Gwyn didn’t think she could feel more attracted to the male than when he made her come, or when he kissed her with his remarkable gentleness. But as inches upon inches of bronze and inked skin revealed itself before her, her knees nearly gave out for the second time that night. Azriel was sculpted by the Gods and she’d accept no other assessment.

His hand came to grab her jaw, molding itself against the curve of her neck. “What I need you do to now, is stay very, very still. One move of your hips and I’ll stop.”

“What is going to happen?”, she didn’t want to ask the question, but a little surge of panic due to the uncertainty made her do it.

Her Shadowsinger just smiled, this one more loving than the predatorial grin from before, and parted her lips with his tongue. He grazed the roof of her mouth, languidly stroking her own tongue until he withdrew with a quick peck to her lips.

And Gwyn understood what exactly was about to happen.

Azriel began kissing his way down, first paying attention to her neck and collarbones. His hands found her breasts, kneading them firmly and pinching her nipple inbetween his fingers. The sting of hurt was quickly replaced though, as his mouth latched onto one of her buds, gently flicking it with his tongue. Gwyn tried her hardest to stay still, like he told her to. But if this was already making her squirm, she doubted she could muster the discipline for when his wicked mouth met her core.

More and more soft kisses travelled down her breasts and stomach. When his mouth reached the bone of her hip, he started licking. Gwyn swore she felt that movement elsewhere and barely suppressed a whimper. But Azriel wasn’t in a hurry, caressing every inch of skin with his mouth and fingers that came before the place she wanted to have him most.

Until finally, he settled further down, now fully kneeling before her.

His tongue found the topmost part of her slit first, the lick slowly morphing into a kiss. Gwyn stood unnaturally still, both her hand grasping the bedframe to steady herself. She’d never let someone come so close to the most intimate part of her.

Azriel continued his warm kisses down her slit as far as he could reach, not yet parting her folds. His hands stroked up and down her hips in a soothing manner. But she didn’t know if it was meant to soothe her or him. The Shadowsinger seemed to tremble before her, or maybe she didn’t see correctly.

“Good?” The voice that came out of Azriel’s mouth sounded different, lower and more strained than usual. Gwyn looked down at his intense eyes and gave a slight nod.

That was all he needed before he spat out a word in Illyrian that sounded suspiciously like a curse, and then parted the folds of her core with his tongue. The noise that escaped Gwyn was low-key a cry, but she didn’t care as his mouth moved directly on her flesh now, caressing every inch of skin he could find. To experience someone’s tongue on your core was a wild feeling. You opened the most vulnerable part of yourself, presented yourself in plain sight in the hopes that your partner showed you care and pleasure.

Azriel understood that. He licked her carefully first, the wetness from her previous orgasm helping him glide over her pussy. Up and down and up and down, until his whole being was consumed by the taste of her. He narrowed in on her clit when he felt her fingers tangle in his hair for purchase. Stiffening his tongue, he dove under the little hood that separated him from her most sensitive spot and gently moved it in a circle.

Gwyn’s chest heaved from the intensity of feeling. She always thought that males licked their partners just for some kind of gain, maybe for them to reciprocate the action, or as a treat on a special occasion. The books she read presented a different sentiment, but she never really expected real males to service their partner like that.

She should have known that Azriel wouldn’t disappoint. Gwyn could tell he cherished every stroke of his tongue against her from the way he closed his eyes in pleasure and his fingers digging into her hips almost too harshly. His kisses her pussy reverently, his tongue rubbing with just the right pressure in just the right spot.

After a few of the best minutes of Gwyn’s life, Azriel stopped his movements and rested his head on her inner thigh. “Love, forget what I said earlier. I want you to move on me.”

Gwyn looked at him in shock. This wasn’t what they agreed on.

“It will be easy. I promise. I’ll help you. Just tilt your hip in a way that feels good.”, he reassured her, his hand grabbing her waist.

“But I might suffocate you.”, she rasped, her voice not used to talking after all the moans.

Azriel grinned. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping for, Berdara.”

And with the most flirty wink, he buried his tongue in her pussy again. His hand now grabbed one of her legs to lift it and place it over his shoulder.

Gwyn barely moved an inch as she tried to tilt her hips for the first time, like Azriel suggested. It wasn’t as hard as she thought it would, standing on one leg. But since she had the bed and Azriel to hold onto, they gave her some leverage. But her Shadowsinger grew impatient quickly. He put pressure on her lower back, forcing her to move quicker and purposeful.

“Gwyn, fuck yourself on my tongue, please.”

The wave of pleasure following his words was something entirely new again. This time, it brought a sense of power with it. She didn’t know when and how they switched their roles for Azriel to be the one to beg, but something about his desperation made her move.

Gwyn rode the Shadowsinger’s tongue with rhythmic rolls of her hips, his tongue hitting her clit every time. Her fingers clawed themselves into his hair, holding his face in place to use it as she saw fit. The orgasm that forced its way through her came completely out of the blue, or maybe it had been lurking from the very first touch of his mouth. With a sharp cry, her hips stuttering, she released on Azriel’s tongue.

It was intense and longer than the one before. When Azriel released her leg, she slowly slid down the bedframe, catching her breath in the process. The Shadowsinger pulled her in a tight embrace the second she came close, nestling her into his lap on the floor.

“Az, I don’t have words.”, she told him after a while. Her entire mental lexicon of synonyms for ‘earthshattering’ wasn’t enough for what she felt. Azriel released a hoarse laugh in answer.

“Who needs words if we can just do it again.”

Gwyn looked up from his chest, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. Judging by the expression of his face, he didn’t.

“Shadowsinger, if I come one more time I’ll turn into a puddle and you have to mop up my remains. Is that how you want to end the night?”, she asked.

Azriel, Mother bless him, actually looked disappointed. “I guess not.”

They sat like that for a while, Azriel’s hands idly stroking up and down Gwyn’s back. It was a testament to the intensity of the night that she took an embarrassing amount of time to notice the hardness that pressed into her side.

Shame flooded Gwyn like never before. There she was, blissfully relaxed from two orgasms, a back massage and gentle rubs, while her exhausted Shadowsinger suffered in silence.

“Az, would you like me to take care of you now?”, she asked, pressing a light kiss to his cheek with the question. The thought of pleasuring him made her equal parts nervous and excited.

“Mh?”, Azriel seemed to need a second to figure out what she was referring to. “Oh, no need. I’m going to calm down in a minute.”

Gwyn was just about to take the way-out he offered when her eyes fell back to the room he had prepared. The candles still flickering away, the roses perched on the bedside table, the deepest love she ever had cradling her safely in his lap.

An unusual sense of peace settled over her as she whispered, with a smile playing on her lips, “It don’t want you to calm down.”

taglist: @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship

#gwynriel #gwynriel smut #Azriel #azriel smut #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #acotar #acotar smut #i'm going to hell

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justatalkingface · 1 year

Text

Bonding Over Burns

You know, like you do when your part of the Endeavour Family.

You remember when the relevant Todoroki was Shoto? Good times, good times.

I've talked on and off about Endeavour, and how soft the story has gone of him, and to a lesser extent Dabi, and how things should be harder on him as well, if for different reasons, but I just want to talk... broadly a bit. This is going to get a bit rambly, and mostly focus on the clusterfuck of the latest chapter.

Hmm. Let's start here: I actually like Dabi. He's insane, and I wouldn't want to be in the same room with him in real life, but he's a fun character who can drive great plot. In all honesty, I want him to win, even now, and I'm not even guilty about it, because unlike Shigaraki, his goal is literally just, 'Fuck Endeavour', and that's something society could survive, and honestly should.

So, with the background of me being a long-time Dabi fan, I say this: this is shit. There's been so much Todoroki content recently, so much of it focused around Dabi, and yet this is what we get.

A lot of the discontent is around the Quirk Awakening, and while I have problems with the ice part of it, which I will get to in a sec, but the Awakening itself isn't a problem. Rather, with how the story is arranged now I don't see a problem with it, but in the first place I think he should have gotten it way back when when he lit himself on fire.

In any normal circumstance, there's no way Dabi should be alive. As the story is, that's being explained as AFO's interference... but that goes into the problem of AFO being everywhere, and everything, that Hori has been thrusting at us since Kamino. Making AFO the cause of every damn problem in the story is a problem in itself. So, how would he be alive now?

*jazz hands* Quirk Awakening.

Not ice, but something tailored to his situation, something that to solve the problem of, 'how in the ever loving fuck are you alive?', because even before he started cosplaying Skeletor Dabi was living with a level of burns that would have serious day to day life consequences, if he even managed to survive getting them. To be blunt, Frankenstein's Monster, which is made out of corpses, is better put together than Dabi's body is. If Dabi's Quirk is too strong for a human body, then give him something to let him survive it; advanced regeneration, the ability to just shrug off burns, being fueled by his fire, something.

You see, Quirk Awakening themselves are... acceptable, as a concept. They're something that makes sense in a manga like this, as a power up, and especially as the 'lore' of it has developed and it's become clear that Quirks themselves can change over time, even if the logic and science of the setting has become softer and softer as time passed. The fact that, as people have put it, Dabi awakening because of how Endeavour treated him 'proving him right' is kind of missing the point, because, well, he always was.

In the coldest, brutalist, most devoid of mercy or empathy kind of way, Endeavour has always been right about this. Quirk marriages are objectively horrible, but they're also the path to stronger Quirks. Like, hell, look at Bakugou. By the logic of the setting, Bakugou might as well be from a Quirk Marriage for how well it was set up for him, because he is the exact sort of multiplicative product Endeavour desired, but he happened by sheer dumb luck instead of primitive, inefficient, and cruel eugenics. We damn well know that his parents wouldn't have kept going for another child if his Quirk was just really slimy skin or something.

Dabi getting a Quirk Awakening doesn't prove shit about Endeavour's methods because Shoto already exists, the very product he desired. Hell, Dabi already unlocked super blue flames by pushing himself to limit, because again, while the mental, social, and ethical consequences of pushing someone to their limits and beyond are very valid, in a manga like this going beyond your limits is exactly how you get a power up, something we've seen time and time again in the story; Endeavour isn't making anything new, he's just tainting an already known phenomena with his abuse. It's not worth the price, but the result itself can happen under this kind of logic.

But, do you know what the first thing I thought was when Dabi started shooting ice?

How convenient it is, that it happens just in time to save Endeavour. Because that's what the ice is ultimately for: to protect Endeavour from the consequences of his actions because, without that, at the very least his arm would probably be gone by now. The ice literally appeared just in time to protect Endeavour from any career ending injuries. Dabi would die without being able to be redeemed. Endeavour himself would be dead, which is seeming more and more unlikely to happen at this point.

Making Rei 'important'? This HImura clan stuff? Please, don't insult me; it is dead obvious that all of that is nothing more than yet another last minute justification to push what narrative Hori wants to tell against the actual story he's made.

How is anyone alive now, when Dabi is literally a giant bomb radiating lethal amounts of heat? Rei is randomly strong enough to counter that, an actual suicide attack with smidgen more of Dabi's ice being used against him to help everyone else at his expense.

Actually, let's talk about Rei: can we replace her without a cardboard cutout with the catchphrase of, 'Endeavour isn't that bad!' yet? Because this isn't a character with agency. This isn't even a proper character. She has never been, on screen, shown with any real agency as a human being. Actually, let me put it like this: do you know when she was shown with the most respect as a human being, as a person with her own will and desires?

When she was burning Shoto. That is how badly her inclusion in this manga is; Rei's best showing is her having a psychotic break.

Sweet burning fuck that is pathetic.

Let's be blunt here: does Rei have any culpability? Technically, yes. Realistically? Honestly? Fuck no. Rei is a broken woman who was sold to Endeavour. He spent his entire marriage growing more aggressive, more dominating, to the point where the only time she did something of her own free will, without the approval of Endeavour, is have a psychotic break. He was the one with power in the relationship, who made the choices, who made the Todorokis into this. And, just to be clear? He did, in fact, hit her.

The lion share of blame for Dabi is with Endeavour, followed by Dabi himself. Rei's share is fucking miniscule. And yet she has to run into the death fire to apologize to the mad, suicidal terrorist for everything.

Meanwhile, why is everyone else here? Why is Natsuo and Fuyumi here? Why are they, the people who were literal children at the time, feeling guilty? Their father had all the power, all the control, wh fuck could they do then? Or even now! They're even weaker than Rei, and Rei needs a pointless, out of nowhere power up just to survive. They should be dead long before the point they could even have this conversation. Actually, could we even have a real talk if they want their 'big brother' back, instead of it just being assumed that of course they want their crazy, murderous relative back, who they were seperated from as different, inferior, in childhood, who didn't know how to interact with them, and who they grew up without their entire lives? Them ultimately settling on wanting him back is fine, in theory, but it shouldn't be this assumed thing, they should be conflicted over this, and have had long talks about, in the same way they should have about Endeavour himself.

Hell, from the other end, why does Dabi care? Why is he going, 'Fuyumi-chan'? They were never more important than him than his ambition to live up to his father's dream, it was all that he lived for. There's every indication he's left all that behind for his hate; let him. Let Dabi be evil, let him be unredeemed!

But that's the thing: it's not about Dabi, and what he should think. It's not about Natsui, or Fuyumi, and what they should think, and we damn well know it's not about Rei, because nothing is ever about her. It's still about Endeavour. All of this, all of this, is still about god damn Endeavour.

Dabi being an actually unforgivable person makes Endeavour look bad. If Dabi dies, gloriously filled with his incandescent hatred, it means that Endeavor can never 'fix' what was done to him, he can never be redeemed from his crime, his apology can never be accepted. This is, of course, exactly the reason why Dabi is trying to do it at all, to rob Endeavour of the peace that could give him, and why Hori won't allow him to do it, to let him succeeding in taking that away from his father.

Everyone being here to claim responsibility for making Dabi who he is? Is taking that much blame away from Endeavour, lightening the guilt he bears. Even if they're logically wrong, when the whole family is there, working together to 'fix' things, it gives the impression that they 'broke' it together, and thus Endeavour's sins are lessened in the eyes of the viewers.

All of this, all of them; Shoto, Dabi, Fuyumi, Natsu and Rei, all of them exist for one thing only at this point: to tell the story of the great and glorious Endeavour. His rise to success, his overcoming of the odds, his wonderful redemption story. Everything they do is to prop up the man who abused every single one of them, and it's sickening.

#bnha critical #mha critical #endeavour critical #what is this crap #even now all of this is about endeavour #even the ice is to protect endeavour #let endeavour be hated #let dabi be evil #let people want neither of them back #let shoto be important #let rei be her own person #let rei BE a person at all

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mildly-intrusivethoughts · 2 years

Text

We're Still Acting, Right?

Word Count: 1,146

Warnings: Has the tiniest bit of angst. Also… Kissing 🤢

A/N: Really been in the mood for some Actor!Mark. Had to get this idea out before more of ISWM comes out. Honestly, I really like seeing Actor!Mark be a demanding diva. Love me a man that's not afraid to do what he wants. Gender neutral for the besties.

The day had been long. Too long, even for a filming day. The amount of setbacks in this single day of production was enough to almost make you walk out. Probably didn’t help that Mark needed the occasional cosmetic touch up as well as many breaks to rest his “god gifted” voice. “It’ll be fine,” he said, “We’ll get it done.”

The hours you put in today made filming feel like an absolute nightmare. Scene after scene, you and Mark pushed to put out your best acting for the camera. Maybe it was the late hours, but you strive even harder than normal to make sure you absolutely get it right the first shot. Pouring even more feelings and meaning behind all your movements. Despite all of Mark’s complaining and drained energy, you carried on. The show must go on.

Once more, you and Mark stood on the beautifully designed set. Filming again in the main deck of the Invincible II. The lighting to the set this time is dark, with hues of red and blue. And once more the director set the scene, ”Alright, so at this point we’re near the climax of the storyline. Mark, Y/N, for this scene I want you to go ahead and follow the script but feel free to improvise a bit. Go ahead and add in any extra bits you think will give this scene that extra raw emotion that’ll have the audience shaking and crying. Remember: You’ve gone around in circles. You’re starting to feel hopeless, but you’re still trying to remain strong for each other. Alright? Annnd ACTION.”

The lighting casted a shadow on your face while Mark’s was slightly visible from the consoles emitting a soft light. Letting the lighting set the mood, you then turned dramatically to Mark and brought your hands to your face and yelled in despair.

“I’m tired of this Mark! How many times do we have to keep doing this? Doesn’t it bother you? The amount of times we’ve been running around! The amount of times we’ve had to watch our crew risk their lives! This almost feels futile. Our colonists aren’t even aware of everything going on, about how many times I’ve failed them!” You brought your hands down to your sides, fist closing tightly, speaking slightly above a whisper “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.. The amount of times I’ve had to see you d-...” Your voice faltered, feigning tears, unable to finish your sentence. Before you managed to let the tears trail from your eyes Mark closed the gap between you, strong hands grasping your shoulders. His voice sounded so reassuring, unlike how you know him to normally speak, “Captain, I know. I know this isn’t ideal, but we have to keep trying! Please, we can’t just stop now. Not when our next jump into the wormhole could be the opportunity we’ve been needing!”

Out of your peripheral, you can see the production crew leaning forward in their chair. No one dared to make any kind of noise. We must really be selling this scene.

Suddenly Mark inched closer to you, hands sliding up to hold your face delicately in his hands. His eyes looked deep into yours, it took all your might not to look away. He was awfully close to you. This was nothing different from the many other times you’ve shared scenes together and by no means was this your first romantic scene, but something about this moment felt different. Maybe it was the late hours but something was off, something had changed. His lips felt like they were only a few centimeters away and you could feel his breath. It warmed your lips and left a tingling sensation. You couldn’t recall your next line. Truth be told you were caught off guard, but the director did say to sell it however you wanted. You almost didn’t even realize he went ahead with his line. “We’ve got to try, Captain. Doesn’t matter how many times it takes, we will fix this or go crazy trying to.” There was a twinkle in his eye, it was gone in a second but you could tell it was something mischievous. “But maybe..just this once Captain.. Let’s try something different.. Let me try something different…” the last word trailed off, as he leaned closer and closer till your lips touched. You quickly reacted, grabbing the front of his jumpsuit pulling him in closer, making the kiss more passionate. His mouth moved effortlessly against yours as he leaned in, deepening the kiss. You opened your mouth to allow him to slip his tongue against yours and just as you were about to sweep your tongue against his- “CUT.”

Mark quickly pulled away, “Are you KIDDING me?! The scene was going so well!” You had briefly forgotten your surroundings. It’s like you were truly living in that moment. The director waved off Mark and shook his head “Look, I love it, I really do, you really are putting in that passion but this isn’t a goddamn romance novel! Remember: Your crews’ DIEING! You admire the Captain but that’s IT! We don’t got a spot in this storyline to add in this sudden romance!” While Mark and the director argued, you simply stood there in disbelief at what happened. In all your years acting together, he’d never kissed you like that. Damn, he’s never actually kissed you at all. Even as improv. It was all for the camera though, right?

“Alright! Let’s reset the scene!”

Your costar grumbled over, taking his place in front of you while mumbling on about how they simply just didn’t see how great his direction would have been. “Hellooo, Y/N? You alright?” You nodded quickly but you just had to ask, “That was all for shows, right?” You didn’t dare let your eyes look up at him. There were always some one liners that you threw at each other, all in which you always told yourself was in a joking tone but you just had to make sure it wasn’t the long hours making you get in your feelings, “We’re still acting, right?” When your eyes finally met he gave an annoyed nod of his head. “Uh, yeah. C’mon focus, Y/N, this is the big leagues. I need you to be with me and give it 110%.” Before you could even make a response back he pulled you in once more, close enough so no one else could hear him and tapped a finger to your chest, “Now here’s the plan: I say we try that again and really go all out. Screw the director, they’re gonna see that I had the right idea all along!”

“Enough talkin! ACTION'' You were in for a long couple of months if filming was gonna keep like this.. not that you were complaining much.

#iswm #in space with markiplier #markiplier egos #actor mark #actor!mark #actor mark x reader #actor mark x y/n #tidbit thoughts #iplier egos #markiplier egos x reader #mildly-intrusivethoughts #actor!mark x reader #actor!mark x y/n #actor mark x gn reader

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demoiselettes · 1 year

Text

Kindness in dire times

Pairing: Sanemi x reader

Category: fluff

Warning(s)/note(s): fem! Reader, mentions of thunder and lightning

A/n: puppy love + silly fluff= me squealing like a freaking idiot. I write to make up for the fact that i’ll probs never have a boyfriend

It was late evening by the time the Wisteria Inn came into view. The sky was already painted a mottled orange and pink with patches of cotton candy floating across it.

The walk was quiet and the air sizzled with tension. Sanemi marched ahead of you with his head up proudly. His sword clinked against his belt. You walked at a snail’s pace in silent retaliation to his hostile behavior. The hashiras were an odd bunch. Each seemed more intimidating than the other, but the wind hashira was by the far the most eccentric. Any attempt you made at appealing to him was met with annoyed grunts and ‘advices’ to go bother someone else. You’d long since given up and had resorted to giving him the silent treatment from a lack of better judgement. You knew it was rather immature of you, but you justified your inner conscience that he was also immature by refusing to comply and so you remained silent during the entirety of the paired mission with him and the walk to the Wisteria Inn. Truth be told, you were suffocating on the inside. The tensed atmosphere required someone to break the ice, but you were too proud to say anything to him. Besides, wouldn’t he only be rude to you? He showed no interest in talking to you anyway.

The nice lady at the Inn ushered the both of you in with apologies that only one room was available at the moment because the others were already occupied. You’d half expected Sanemi to yell at her, but he accepted her apologies and the directions to your room with a singular nod. The two of you shuffled around each other while laying out the futons. No words were uttered. Without realizing it, your hands worked furiously at the blanket, aggressively tugging and unfolding it but you stopped when you felt someone’s gaze on you. You were met with a confused look from Sanemi, but it only lasted a couple of seconds.

Once fed, bathed and checked by a doctor who had been called in by the grandmother that worked at the Inn and who had delightfully confirmed that you both have broken bones, Sanemi and you settled into your respective futons. Despite the softness of the tatami mat, you were far from comfortable being in the same room as him. If he was bothered in the slightest by your presence, he didn’t give any indication. You remained sprawled like a starfish and stared at the ceiling, trying to remain still and to take up as little presence as possible.

There was a light drizzle outside. The sound of droplets hitting the damp soil was almost enough to rock you to sleep, but the rain kept intensifying. Too quickly, it became heavy and it was beating down on the small building. Your stomach churned but you did your best to take deep breaths to remain calm. It became harder when the wind roared outside and wind chimes that hung above the engawa clinked viciously. It was a sound that, under normal circumstances, was pleasing but tonight it seemed malevolent. You swallowed thickly and pulled the covers up, forcing down the panic that was rising in your throat.

Then there was a flash of white which effectively blinded you before it was followed by a loud booming sound. You lurched upright on the futon, clutching the bed sheets to your chest and fixing the floor to concentrate on your breathing. Your heart was racing and bile was rising in your throat. Your body had already gone into fight and flight mode and your hands were shaking. You suspected you might be having a panic attack.

« Oi, »

You almost reached for your sword that was leaning against the wall out of sheer panic, but you managed to restrain yourself by holding the sheets tighter and instead turned to face Sanemi. He was laying sideway on his futon with his arm propped up and his curled fist supporting his cheek. He stared up at you with an unimpressed look in his eyes. He said nothing, as though expecting you to start the conversation. You noticed the front of yukata was open, much like his demon slayer uniform.

« I thought you were asleep. »

« You also thought you didn’t make any noise, » he countered gruffly. « Something bothering you? »

You sighed and waved vaguely outside. You were too tired and preoccupied by the numbing sound of rain to lie. The color drained from your face when another bout of lightning, followed by thunder, struck but you held your breath, determined not to show how scared you were. You knew your behavior was uncalled for. As a demon slayer, you were required to have little to no fear to fight demons, yet you were afraid of thunder and lightning.

You heard the sheets shuffle from beside you and turned your head his way to see him getting up. You paid him no mind, thinking he had to use the bathroom or he got thirsty. Or he simply didn’t want to be in the same room as you anymore. Which was why it surprised you when he plopped down in front of you and leaned forward to cover your ears with his hands. You could feel how rough they were.

You let out a strangled sound at his actions and tried desperately to fight back the burn in your cheeks. « Why are you doing that? »

He looked at you like you were stupid, but he squirmed subtly, and you thought you could make out a tint of red in his ears from the streak of moonlight filtering through the window. « It’s so you don’t hear the thunder. You might as well close your eyes. »

You almost laughed. The thunderous roar outside was not even slightly subdued by Sanemi’s hands pressed firmly against your ears, but the action had such a certain tenderness which you never thought the wind hashira could possess that you decided to keep quiet and to go along with his ideas.

You cracked a smile. « Thank you, »

He grunted in response, his eyes darting everywhere but towards your own.

« For how long will you keep doing that? »

« Until you fall asleep. Then i’ll let you fall down. » Despite the threat, his words were warm and gentle. And in spite of the merciless torrent outside, your mind was now preoccupied by the warm, fuzzy sensation that bloomed in your chest that was just powerful enough to drown out the unwanted noises.

« Okay. » you finally answered, kicking the sheets away so that Sanemi wouldn’t be unshielded alone. « Thanks, Shinazugawa-san. »

And after you’d followed his advice and covered your eyes to not see the flashes of lighting, you heard him speak in a barely audible voice. « Sanemi’s fine. »

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #nanako’s blues #sanemi fluff #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #sanemi x y/n #shinazugawa sanemi

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namorslutfanfiction · 1 year

Note

can you plissss do namor headcanons?? like fluffy stuff, our namor in a relationship, or even 18+, you do what you want!!💗

NAMOR HEADCANONS ALL OF THE ABOVE (If you're part of the discord you may know some of these)

Namor would be reluctant to show how much he liked you at first. But it would slip out. Smiles and gentle touches. Until it was so familiar that when he stops doing it you immediately notice.

Namor would be so generous with everything; food, affection, orgasms.

This man would definitely make a mural of you somewhere with more privacy so that he can stare at it while you're gone and no one would be able to judge him for missing you so much.

He's cheeky. He'll whisper quips and wit in your ear just for you to hear. And when you're giggling at an inappropriate time he will feign ignorance.

He has a thing for pinning you down by your wrists.

He also has a thing for gentle but firm hands on your neck and his too.

Thigh riding. He would find all manner of excuse to come up to you or behind you and shove his leg between yours.

Clingy hand holding. He's the type to play with your fingers when you're talking.

He always says you smell delicious.

He's not a cuddler normally, but if you ask he would immediately wrap you in his arms. The only reason he doesn't always cuddle is because he always wants to take it further.

Namor is pescatarian.

He would love to help you with your hair. Brushing it, washing it, styling it, braiding it. The man loves your hair, even if you don't.

The man has been around. Men, women, mutants. He sought pleasure in all forms, found it and then moved on to his next project.

^He uses what he learned on you.

He's the type to make you cum at least twice before he's inside you.

He's the type to want a taste of you before you get a taste of him

He's the type to ask you where you're going when he's fucking you so hard that you almost tell him to slow down.

He's the type to praise you while you ride him.

"You're making such pretty noises. Maybe I can make you louder."

He's the type to pull you close in the middle of the night and start sucking on your nipple, teasing your clit, and rubbing up against your thigh until you're awake and turned on. You don't even have to ask for it because he's already sliding his cock home and moaning in your ear.

He wants you hear you say you love him while he's thrusting inside of you.

He'd use his cape to hide his hard ons but would bump into you intentionally so you would know what you do to him.

The honeymoon phase hits this man straight in the groin and he takes you anywhere, everywhere, all the time. Insatiable.

He probably has a breeding kink. Maybe being a mutant makes him infertile which is where the kink comes from.

The man likes to watch you suck his fingers.

Teasing or caressing his wings and ankles will get him harder than any blow job.

His ears are erogenous zones and you like to remind him at inopportune times.

The man started doing more squats after the one time you told him he has a nice butt.

Every time you and Namor get in a fight, he runs to Attuma to vent and get advice.

He always ends up groveling back because his pride is never more important than having you in his life.

Soft kisses all the time. Long sexual kisses only in private. mostly.

The man has had some questionable hairstyles over the centuries for sure. We don't talk about the real mohawk era but there's a mural somewhere with it.

He secretly likes surface world animals and has a soft spot for lizards for some reason.

He has some pet eels somewhere. He's trying to harness their electricity he says, but he also thinks they are weirdly cute.

The man likes giving massages. Oily wet massages because he's strong and gets full access of your body. Foreplay that can last an hour followed by him unselfishly pleasuring you in the name of de-stressing

Definitely would hate horses. I don't know why but he might also be slightly afraid of them.

COMPETITIVE.

Average girth dick but easily 6.5 to 7 inches. uncut. thick tip

OK that's all i can come up with rn.

#ask #ask me #namorslutfanfiction #namor #namor headcanon #namor imagine

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storiesofsvu · 1 year

Text

Journey to the Past Ch 19

Bryan Kneef x reader Warnings: language, that's about it. Again, ignore all the legal shit in this, I'm making it all up and pretending and not doing research this time cause I am lazy.

Back in Chicago you were absolutely buried in paperwork, in case work, and just about everything else imaginable. You’d been doing your best to keep up with things remotely while you’d been out in New York but that turned out to be harder than expected considering the case at hand. Even with coming in early, going home late and working through lunch things still weren’t progressing very well and you were starting to wonder if you could afford to hire a second assistant. You were so invested in the article you were reading you wouldn’t have even been able to tell someone what time of day it was, blindly reaching for your coffee in an attempt to keep yourself alert when an envelope dropped its way onto your desk.

“All motions and subpoena’s need to go through my paralegal.” You muttered, not glancing up from the article.

“Oh c’mon.” Bryan’s voice managed to invade your concentration, “humour me.” You looked up from the page, eyes flicking between him and the envelope before your hand darted out to snatch it up and toss it back in his direction.

“I don’t care if it’s from you, it goes through Larissa, I have a fucking system in place for a fucking reason. And if I have a case with you I clearly haven’t gotten to it yet.”

“Geeze. What’s got your panties in a knot?” Bryan chuckled and you groaned, rolling your eyes, “I’ve barely heard from you since we got back.”

“Bry. I don’t have time for this. I let too much slide when I was out there and the amount of catching up I now have to do is deplorable.”

“So I take it it’s a no for lunch then?” He asked and you huffed out a sigh, dropping back into your chair and finally looking up at him. He frowned, noticing the bags under your eyes darker than normal, your usually pristinely put together look was a little worse for wear today and he instantly felt bad about the teasing.

“No. I’m sorry but I really don’t have time.”

“Okay.” He leant in, bracing on your shoulder as his lips met the top of your head softly, lingering for a moment while he felt your body relax under the small embrace, “you need a fresh coffee?”

“Please.” You practically pouted and he chuckled, squeezing at your shoulder before disappearing from your office only to return a few moments later with a fresh steaming mug of coffee.

He placed it down on your desk wordlessly, moving around it, a hand trailing across your shoulders as he did so. His hands rested on your shoulders as he leant over to kiss the top of your head again before he ever so gently began to massage the knots out of your neck, only stopping once you’d let out a satisfied sigh and he felt your body relaxing at least a little bit.

“Thank you.” You murmured and he shifted back around to perch on the edge of your desk.

“I’ve got that board dinner tonight, but you know where to find me if you want a second set of eyes afterwards.”

“I honestly might take you up on that.” You sighed, pushing your hair off your face.

“Okay.” Cupping your cheek he leant in, leaving a soft kiss on your lips, “don’t work yourself too hard sweetheart.”

“I’ll try.” You picked up your pen and the article again, picking up where you left off as you began to scribble down notes while Bryan shifted off your desk. You were blind to it already but his hand slipped into his jacket, plucking the envelope from it and placing it down on your desk gently.

“And I really don’t think Larissa needs to see that, but I’ll leave it for whenever you have a minute, don’t rush.”

“Alright.” You murmured, “thanks. Sorry I don’t have more time.”

“It’s okay.” He ducked in and you kissed each other’s cheeks softly, “I’ll see you later.”

He was gone from your office before you could even glance up, and even then it was only a second before you returned to you work, you had too much to do. Twenty minutes later your stomach rumbled a little bit and you groaned, sucking back a large swig of coffee before digging through your desk drawer for a granola bar, eyes never leaving the paperwork in front of you. At least you’d moved onto your next task, one less thing to worry about over the course of the week. Another hour after that and there was a small knock on your door followed by Larissa’s voice saying your name and you finally glanced up.

“Yeah?”

“I could’ve ran out and got this for you, I know how busy you are.” She smiled, the bag of takeout in her hand finding home on the corner of your desk.

“Oh… I uh, I didn’t order it.” Your hand reached out to the receipt, finding the detailed note typed up at the bottom, “and it appears there’s some in here for you too.” You dug your hands into the bag, pulling out the box that was meant for her and she laughed softly.

“He’s a keeper.”

She gave you a knowing smile and quickly disappeared from your office food in hand and you took a moment to pick up your phone, shooting off a thank you text to Bryan and he replied with a simple emoji to not distract you any further. You continued working, eating as you went but curiosity got the best of you and your eyes landed on the envelope he had left for you. If he really did have a case crossing over with you he would have said something or done as you’d asked and left with Larissa. You wondered if he had inside intel about one of your cases, or if maybe there was something like theatre tickets stashed inside. You let out a soft sigh, pushing the case file away from you and reaching out to pick up the envelope, your finger sliding through the seal to break it and you pulled out the folder paper. As your eyes scanned the paper you couldn’t help but let out a little laugh, a smile finally breaking across your cheeks.

As requested that morning back in New York; it was Bryan’s very clean bill of health.

You glanced towards the clock, wondering just how much you’d be able to finish before six and how much you could get away with taking with you. Bryan had already given you the invite to come over tonight (even though at this point it was an unspoken always there one) and he’d gone out of his way to buy you lunch when he knew you probably wouldn’t have eaten otherwise. You knew you didn’t have to, and that he wasn’t expecting anything of it, but he had offered to help you with work and honestly, you really could use that right now.

Bryan’s board dinner had been at Morton’s Steakhouse, one of the fancier and more prestigious around town, a few hours of shooting the shit, food, drinks and cigars. He’d been focussed on making the right kind of connections and figuring out some work stuff that he hadn’t been on his phone too much, but he was a little surprised to not hear anything from you by the time he was on his way home.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and could hear a soft playlist echoing through the space, knowing it was coming from one of the classical music channels on the tv. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing that you were here, that he’d get at least a little bit of time with you, even if you were working. He stepped out of his shoes and hung his jacket up as he moved through the entry way, wandering into the main part of the apartment and let out a little chuckle as he stopped in the living room.

It appeared you had raided his closet, swiping a pair of too large sweatpants to go with your tank, but more importantly, exhaustion had won the battle. You were curled up on the couch deep in sleep, a case file strewn half on the floor half on your lap and your computer open further down the sectional. A microwave dinner was half eaten on the coffee table alongside a nearly full glass of wine.

“Poor thing.” He murmured softly, crossing through the room, first picking up the case file and sliding the papers back into it before placing it on the coffee table. He picked up your laptop, quietly shutting it and piling it on top before perching on the edge of the couch, his hand smoothing your hair back from your face, “hey…” he nudged gently at your knee and you grumbled, “sweetheart…” he nearly warned, “I know you’re tired and this couch feels comfortable right now but it’s gonna hurt in the morning.” You grumbled again, shifting nearly away from him as you fought against the sleep until you rubbed at your eyes and finally looked up at him before your eyes shot wide open and you shoved yourself up.

“Oh god!”

“What?” He laughed, hand still softly caressing at your cheek.

“I so didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You huffed, “fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s perfectly fine.” He leant in, gently kissing you and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, your own hand coming up to his cheek, nails scratching into his beard. “You needed it.”

“Yeah but I wanted to be awake when you got home. Have a drink, some dessert? How was dinner.”

“The usual bullshit, but good.” His arm wound around you, pulling you up from the couch, “but you need rest. Let’s get you to bed, I’ll look over these files for you and add some notes after I shower and we can go over them in the morning.”

“Fine.” You grumbled over a yawn and Bryan couldn’t help but laugh, rubbing at your back as he guided you down the hallway.

You promptly dropped yourself into his bed, snuggling deep under the covers while he made sure your phone was plugged in, leaving the lamp on before he moved into the bathroom. You were out like a light in the short amount of time it took him to shower and change, so he simply pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before quietly shutting the bedroom door and making his way out to the living room.

He took a minute to tidy up and made sure all of your work stuff was in the same place before pouring a glass of bourbon and settling on the couch to do exactly what he’d promised.

When you woke in the morning you were actually feeling well rested but were disappointed to find the bed empty already. The smell of coffee wafted through the apartment and you could hear muted conversation going on down the hallway, it piqued your interest as to who Bryan’s company was, and why they were over so early in the day. You grabbed a cardigan, pulling it on over top of your pyjamas and after a quick freshen up you wandered down the hallway into the main part of the apartment, your brow furrowing at the sight in front of you.

“What’s…. going on here?” You asked and Bryan glanced up in your direction. He was at the dining table along with Amber, which made sense to you, sometimes you needed an assist when working from home. What didn’t make sense was the presence of your paralegal, “did you kidnap Larissa?”

“Figured it would be easier and faster to get through your overload with both of them.” He replied with a shrug and you laughed, moving toward the coffee machine to pour yourself a cup.

“Did you at least let her eat breakfast first?”

“On the contrary, he required I pick up breakfast on the way.” Larissa replied, gesturing to the take out bags on the island.

“Bryan!” You scolded, crossing over to the table, approaching him from behind, your hand smoothed over his back as you ducked to kiss the side of his head.

“We’ve gone through all your motions and I did my best at closing arguments for the Wentworth case for you.” He replied and you let out a little huff of a laugh.

“Thank you. You could’ve at least woken me up.”

“You needed sleep.” He squeezed at your hand, “we’ve got this.”

“He’s right.” Larissa cut in, “you’ve been overworking yourself since coming back from New York and you’ve been doing all of it. I easily could have taken on like half of this, you’ve basically been paying me to sit on my phone all day.”

“You do realize the point of hiring an assistant is to assist you, right?” Bryan asked and you rolled your eyes.

“At least I don’t use mine like a lacky.” You directed your gaze to Bryan, “you can pick up your own dry cleaning you know.” You picked up a couple of the empty coffee mugs from the table, crossing back to the kitchen as Amber spoke.

“No, he’s been pretty good recently, probably thanks to you.”

“He knows he’s on a short leash.” You shot back with a grin and Bryan scowled.

“You know, I’d really rather leave my personal life outside of work.”

“Bold coming from someone who enjoys fucking in his office.” You chuckled and Bryan let out a huff, shooting you a playful glare as you placed down a fresh coffee for him. “I’m only teasing.” You murmured, pinching at his arm, “I thought we had a meeting at eleven?”

“I got Diane to push it to two thirty so we could get stuff done here.”

“Okay.” You let out a small sigh, glancing at the papers scattered around the table, “where can I jump in.”

“Here.” Amber held out a case file as you took your seat beside Bryan and started to look through the case.

Thanks to Bryan’s quick thinking on calling in back up the four of you actually did manage to whittle down your inbox and to do pile immensely. You hadn’t quite processed just how much there was to do to get caught up on, or how much of it technically was Larissa’s job, and would be forever grateful that they had come together to help you get everything done. It was nearing noon when Bryan let out a sigh and stretched himself out before leaning in and kissing your cheek,

“I’m jumping in the shower.”

“Yeah.” You murmured in reply, squeezing his hand and accepting the little rub on your shoulder that he left as you continued to write up an argument. After he left the room you could feel the girl’s eye’s on you and you glanced up, “what?”

“He must really like you.” Amber started quietly with a small grin on her face, “because he would never do something like this otherwise. Hell, he passes off half of his own work to me on a regular basis and here he is making sure you sleep in and doing your work for you?”

“If you ask me it’s more than like.” Larissa stated.

“Stop it. Both of you.” You half glared at the two of them, turning back to your paperwork.

“You think I can’t hear you and Kim gossiping over lunch about this?” Larissa asked, “my desk it directly outside your door and it’s rarely closed.”

“So you’re admitting you’re an eavesdropper?” You raised a brow in her direction with a small laugh.

“I can’t help that Kim’s voice carries.” She shrugged, “besides, you’re still ignoring the fact that he told you he loved you in New York.”

“Okay, we’re moving your desk.” You replied firmly as Amber let out a dramatic gasp.

“So that’s why he’s been so much better recently?” She turned to you, “have you said it back?”

“I already said, she’s avoiding it.” Larissa pointed out “shame though, because he clearly does.”

“I am not having this conversation.” You pushed up to standing, closing the file in front of you as you started to pile things up and organize them by level of completion. From down the hall you heard the running water come to a stop, and you let out a huff.

“Yeah, because you’re avoiding saying it back.” Larissa prodded and you rolled your eyes.

“You overheard something, and you misconstrued what you heard. It was completely out of context, and not that it’s any of your business but no I haven’t said anything because the topic hasn’t come up again. We’re working through some stuff.”

“Yeah, like denial of being two idiots in love.” Amber laughed, pulling a louder one from Larissa and your rolled your eyes again.

“You know, I think we’ve got enough work done, thank you for your help today, you can both go.”

“Okay, okay.” They laughed, “we’ll stop.”

“Just let me finish these motions.” Amber flipped the page and picked up her pen again.

Your eyes narrowed at the two girls, but you knew it was all just in the name of fun, and they honestly made some decent points. You tidied up the dining table, coffee cups getting dumped and rinsed, placed in the dishwasher before you headed down the hall to get yourself ready for the office.

After getting changed you ducked into the bathroom, swiping on some minimal make up and pulling your hair out of the messy bun to style it into something more appropriate for work. You were putting the final pins in place when you caught Bryan’s gaze in the mirror while he was leaning against the door frame, watching you with a soft smile on his cheeks.

“What?” You asked, hands reaching out for a necklace on the counter.

“Nothing.” He chuckled softly, crossing through the space to take the necklace from you, swiftly clasping it in place behind your neck before kissing your skin gently, “you look beautiful.” You felt warmth swirl through you, settling in your chest, a tinge of heat in your cheeks as you gazed back at him through the mirror.

“Thank you.” You turned in his arms, popping up on your toes to kiss him properly, “we should probably get going.”

“Yeah.” He smiled down at you, stealing another kiss and squeezing gently at your ass, pulling a giggle from you as you tried to get away from his prying hands. Instead he simply tugged you back to him, lips meeting yours in a deeper kiss than the last before his hand slid down your side and his fingers interlaced with yours. “C’mon, we’ve got work to do.”

_______________________

@detective-giggles @plaidbooks @thatesqcrush @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @bisexual-dreamer02 @amelia-song-pond @madamsnape921 @whimsicallymad @mrsrafaelbarba @mysticfalls01 @ssaic-jareau @caracalwithchips @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @michael-rooker @rafivadafreddy @lustvolle-liebe @anlin2058 @fandom-princess-forevermore @tinyboxxtink @alexusonfire @xovalliegirlxo @nobody-important1212 @somethingimaginative17 @momlifebehard @misscharlielulu @fighterkimburgess

#bryan kneef #bryan kneef x reader #the good fight #journey to the past

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