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mncxbe · 1 month

Note

Sucking duos off...? Like... Sucking Soukoku off at once and Sucking off suegiku at once ..? If you do this, please include suegiku^^ (starving for Tecchou X Jouno X reader) FIC or HC your choice!

- 💄

nonnie😳 i really love your idea omg. it'd really be something considering the dynamics between them hihi hope you like it♡

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: brainrot, nsfw, oral, little bit of degrading, praise, pet names, manhandling and size kink if you squint, hair pulling, established relationship (in dazai's and chuuya's part), sorry in advance for any spelling mistakes i didn't have much time to proofread it♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊 & 𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒖𝒚𝒂

Dazai doesn't like to share, he needs your undivided attention at all times. That's why the position he was currently in pissed him off so much– he was laying on the couch next to Chuuya with you on your knees in front of them, pretty hands wrapped around their leaking cocks, slowly moving up and down. But your mouth... you've been neglecting him for minutes now, choosing to suck off the redhead instead of him and he just couldn't stand this injustice any longer.

"Bella it's not fair" he cooed, his fingers tugging at your roots in a desperate attempt to pry your mouth off Chuuya's dick "Suck me off too."

"Fuck off, Dazai. Let her do her thing and wait for your turn" snapped Chuuya, shoving Dazai's hand away from your hair and pushing your head lower on his cock. You gagged when his tip hit the back of your throat but did your best to relax your muscles, slowly managing to take him to his base. "God pretty– you're so good for us. Look how well you take my dick down your throat" Chuuya's free hand moved to the nape of your neck, stroking it gently, a silent praise that made you whimper around his length.

All the while Dazai's frown deepened. You were so focused on Chuuya that you had completely forgotten to jerk him off. Wrapping one of his large hands above yours, the brunette guided your hand up and down his cock. Despite your fucked out mind you managed to pull yourself together and tighten the grip on Dazai's dick while hollowing your cheeks, earning a choked moan from Chuuya. "Shit– baby slow down can't cum yet." he mumbled, letting go of your head and resting his hand on your shoulder as his face scrunched up in pleasure. That was all Dazai needed to hear. With a quick motion he grabbed a hold of your hair and dragged you off Chuuya's cock, bringing your face closer to his erection.

"The fuck you doing" huffed Chuuya, but Dazai paid no mind to him, ordering you to open your mouth for him. And you did, of course you did– only the sight of his throbbing erection was enough to make you melt like butter. The brunette let out a satisfied hum when you licked a stripe from the base of his cock to his tip before taking him down your throat, tongue swirling around his length. "Hah- see Chuuya. She wanted my dick too, she loves it. Who do you think you are to deny her that?" he chuckled, and when you peered up from between his legs you could see the shit eating grin etched on his features.

"Yea... whatever you say, dipshit" grumbled Chuuya but he couldn't deny that seeing you sucking Dazai off did things to him. His cock, still glistening with your saliva and his precum, was throbbing frantically. He was close, but he'd be damned if he was going to cum untouched– Dazai would tease him about it for weeks so he gave his cock a few strokes, bucking his hips into his hand. But Dazai was Dazai and it didn't take him long to realize what his partner was doing. Naturally, he couldn't waste such a precious opportunity to taunt him so he flexed his fingers, combing them through your hair to brush the strands from the side of your face, giving Chuuya full view of what you were doing.

"My, my, Nakahara, you like this? Like seeing our pretty girl taking my dick down her pretty throat?" laughed Dazai, stroking your cheek

"Shut up you–" huffed Chuuya, his eyes glued to your plump lips, wrapped so sweetly around Dazai's dick. You were sucking him off so eagerly and god you looked so beautiful with those tears brimming at your lashline. He ached for you, needed you so desperately in this moment that he didn't even realize how much pre his cock was leaking.

"Wanna see me cum in her mouth? Or should I cum on her face? You name it, Chuuya." said Dazai in a silken voice, pulling your head off his dick for a brief moment. Your mouth fell into an o as you struggled to catch your breath, your chest heaving and lashes fluttering in attempt to get rid of the little tears at the corner of your eyes. When your eyes met his, Chuuya let out a loud, choked moan, spilling his cum in his hand and you quickly crawled closer to him, taking his fingers into your mouth to lick them clean. "Look at you, bella, never letting a drop of our cum go to waste" chuckled Dazai, watching you lap up Chuuya's milky cum as he began stroking his cock with more force. "Better get ready to swallow mine too."

You put on a good show for the two men, slowly licking the sticky liquid from Chuuya's hand, sucking on his fingers without breaking the intense eye contact with Dazai. It wasn't too long until he grabbed the back of your head again and pulled you towards him. "Fuck... open up beautiful" he instructed and you obeyed, allowing him to shove his aching cock in your mouth and cum down your throat.

When he pulled away, Dazai quickly brushed off the string of cum that connected your lips to his tip and smiled, running his thumb along your bottom lip. "Well, Chuuya, I think it's time we return the favour. What d'you say?"

"I couldn't agree more"

𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖 & 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐

Jouno and Tecchou knew that you had a massive crush on them, but neither of them made a move. It would've been unethical, considering that you were colleagues and all but when you came to them with such a tempting proposal after a particularly dangerous mission, their resolve broke.

"So... you're saying you want to suck both of us off?" asked Tecchou, raising a brow as he watched you fumble with the buttons of your uniform shirt. "Yup, exactly". "But why?"

"Because, Hiro, I almost died today. And it reminded me just how dangerous our job can be. I don't wanna die before experiencing this with you" . You said all that so casually while undoing Tecchou's belt and lowering his uniform pants and briefs mid-thigh, freeing his half-hard cock. "Besides" you continued, giving his length a few good strokes "You're both pent up and tired. And you deserve this–"

Jouno, who up to that point stood on the side and observed the interaction between you and Tecchou, got off the table he was perched up on. "Don't make this about us, Y/N" he scoffed, grabbing your chin and tilting your head up "We all know this is just about you wanting to get some good dick. So get to it". Jouno brought your face level to Tecchou's erection and you peered up at the man, waiting for some sort of consent.

"Don't force her, Jouno" said Tecchou in his usual levelled voice, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's ok, Y/N, you can take it easy." You lolled out your tongue, giving his tip a quick lick before letting a blob of spit fall on it and spreading it along his length with steady hands.

"Yea..." retorted Jouno "She sure doesn't know what she's doing" Before you got the chance to take Tecchou into your mouth Jouno pulled down his briefs and guided your mouth to his cock. You whined when his tip hit the back of throat, triggering your gag reflex, but Jouno hushed you, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb on the side of your jaw. He could feel your sharp, ragged breath tickling the sensitive skin of his pelvis as he rocked his hips forward, pushing himself deeper into your mouth. "See, Tecchou, slutty girls like her like to be roughed up a bit, just enough to remind them who's in charge"

"You're hurting her, Jouno" protested the brunette but you quickly shook your head and hummed a nuh-uh, signaling Tecchou that you were okay. You could take it. Slowly, you reached out a hand, wrapped it around Tecchou's cock and started pumping him at a steady pace. He hissed, shifting closer to make it easier for you to jerk him off– all the while Jouno continued his deep thrusts. He was bruising the back of your throat, making you choke on that slick mixture of your saliva and his precum that flooded your mouth but the man didn't spare you a moment to catch your breath. "Shhh" he cooed, gathering your hair in a pony tail above your head "Just a little more baby I know you can take it."

Tecchou mused on you with pleading eyes. Your hand was so much softer and smaller compared to his calloused one and it made him feel so, so good. It was cute, really, and watching the way you were struggling to suck Jouno off was making the knot in the pit of his stomach tighten. Jouno noticed the changes in his colleague's demeanor and pulled out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for hair.

"Come here, Tecchou. Face me" he instructed and the brunette obliged, confusion and excitement etched on his pretty features. Jouno guided you between them and smiled down at you, giving the crown of your head gentle strokes "You, my dear, are going to take us both ok?"

"I uh... I don't think this is gonna work" you stammered and Jouno to clicked his tongue in annoyance "We'll make it work. Now open up and take deep breaths. If it hurts pat my leg, ok?" You gave him a hesitant nod before parting your lips and allowing them to slip their dicks inside your mouth. It was a tight fit and Tecchou shuddered when he felt the friction from Jouno's cock. "G-god this is– too much" he sighed, experimentally rocking his hips into your mouth. Jouno resumed his movememts too, matching his colleague's pace. Opening your mouth so wide was straining your jaw, their tips poking at the inside of your cheeks, making it impossible for you to hollow them out. Sensing your agitation, Jouno hushed you again, babbling out a few praises. "You're doing well for us, baby. Told you we could make it work. There you go... nice and slow" he sighed, picking up the pace. His mind was clouded with lust– your mouth was so warm, the insides of your cheeks so soft and the obscene slurping sounds you were making only added to the fuel. He could only imagine how beautiful you looked in that moment.

"H-hey Tecchou" he huffed out, grabbing your hair and tilting your head up so the brunette could take a better look at your features. "Tell me what she looks like. Describe her to me."

Tecchou swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking in a soft voice "Uh she looks so pretty. Her eyes and lips are all glossy and fuck– she's drooling t-too". His voice cracked when Jouno suddenly came into your mouth and your eyes shot open, a mewl slipping past your lips. The white haired man pulled out of your mouth, granting Tecchou more space. "Keep going" he urged "Tell me how she feels"

"So, so good now" stammered the brunette, his lashes fluttering shut. Your mouth felt so much warmer now and he watched the creamy ring forming at the base of his cock with keen eyes. The white liquid seeped at the corners of your mouth but you managed to gather it with your tongue. When you started hollowing your cheeks again Tecchou was done for "She's sucking me in so much I– god I'm cumming 'm cumming" His hips stuttered, the tip of your nose bumping against his pelvis as he came into your mouth, flooding it with his cum.

"Shit–" he sighed weakly, caressing your face "I came so much, baby. Are you gonna swallow for us?" You nodded eagerly, parting your lips to showcase your now clean mouth, earning a content hum from Tecchou.

Jouno smiled, tucking himself in before helping you up to your feet and leaning closer to whisper in your ear "Let's do this again soon, shall we? I'm curious to see just how far you're willing to go for us, sweetheart."

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world-of-shadows-and-music · 6 months

Text

A New Surprise

This is a self-indulgent ficlet of Astarion and Halsin discussing something strange happening with their lover. This does use a personal headcanon that I posted previously for Halsin and Astarion. I may make a part 2 but we will see how that goes.

Summary: Astarion knows something weird is happening with their lover, but he can’t get them to take him seriously. He goes to Halsin to try and get reinforcements.

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Reader x Halsin / Astarion x gn!Tav x Halsin

Warnings: mentions periods but uses they/them pronouns, pregnancy symptoms, a moment of angst, tooth rotting sweetness, no use of y/n

Word count: 1,607 words

You and your lovers had managed to settle down into a nice little cabin after the tadpole removal and saving Baldur's Gate. It was outside of the city, at the edge of a large, forested area so that way Halsin can be near nature and that way Astarion doesn't need to worry about prying eyes watching you all.

Astarion was antsy, he just could not calm the racing thoughts that coursed through his head after hearing his lover become sick again as they had for the last several days. The first day he had wrote it off as possibly food sickness, Halsin agreeing that their lover just needed rest but now… now he could smell that something was changing with them and it made bile rise into his throat with worry.

He tried to bring it up with their lover, but they simply brushed it off and gave him a kiss on the cheek telling him not to worry so much. So, after they had left the cabin to go into the city for supplies, he waited for Halsin to return.

It didn't take long for him to hear the druid return from gathering firewood, opening one of the windows and looking outside for him.

"Halsin! I need to speak with you! Urgently please if you would come inside." Halsin looked up, laying the last of the firewood in a neat pile next to the cabin.

"I hope everything is alright, my Heart. I will be inside in a moment." Astarion let out a huff before closing the window and continued his pacing. It did not take long for Halsin to enter the cabin, observing Astarion's nervous pacing. "What is troubling you?" Astarion scoffed, running a hand through his silver hair as he continued to walk.

"Something is wrong with them. First, I thought it was just a food sickness, but it’s been happening for days and now I can smell something is wrong! Something has changed! They won't listen to me; they keep telling me everything is fine! You have to talk to them and get them to see a healer, hells teeth have them even see Shadowheart at the least!" Halsin listened to Astarion rave before walking over to him and grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing his vermillion eyes to look into his hazel ones.

"My heart, nothing is wrong. I smell it too, but it is not a sickness." A frown twisted itself to Astarion's face before he scoffed at Halsin.

"Oh, then pray tell what is wrong with them, Halsin?" Halsin stared at Astarion for a moment before giving him a small smile.

"If I am correct, our dearest is pregnant. I don't know if even they are aware of it yet, but I've been around enough people to know how pregnancy changes a person's scent." Astarion stared at the large elf for a moment, his mind trying to wrap itself around the outlandish thought of their lover carrying a child. Not just any child, possibly their child. No, it couldn't be possible to be Astarion's. All logic pointed towards Halsin being the sire and while he knew he should be happy; it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Oh… you must be so happy. You two getting to play happy family." Astarion sneered, taking a step back away from Halsin. Halsin frowned before he signed and shook his head before looking back at the pale elf.

"Astarion, no matter who the sire of the child is, it does not change anything. You know that I love both of you and you know that they love both of us as well. We can raise the child together, the three of us." Halsin gave Astarion a soft smile, opening his arms to him. Astarion stared at him for a moment, letting his words sink in before stepping forward and into Halsin's open arms, buring his face into Halsin's neck and inhaling his calming scent.

"I know, I know you won't abandon me but… I don't know where I would fit in this anymore once we add a child into it." Halsin hummed softly as he held Astarion to him, rubbing his back gently.

"You would still be their father; the child will want not for love. You, Me, and our lover. Though I would let them tell us in their own time, if they already know I don't think they realize we can smell it on them." Halsin chuckled softly, Astarion smiling before letting go of Halsin and taking a step back.

"You… You are right. I don't know how we would exactly bring it up to them. 'Hey darling, just so you know we can smell that we've knocked you up.' I doubt that it wouldn't startle them at the very least." Halsin laughed, laying his hand on Astarion's shoulder shaking his head.

"Agreed. I am sure our Heart will figure it out in their own time and will share the good news with us when they are ready. Until then, how about we start some lunch? They should be returning from the city in due time, and I am sure they would be very appreciative to have something for their belly." Astarion nodded and a comfortable silence filled the space between the two elves as they started preparing a simple lunch.

~~~

It was within the hour that you returned to the cabin, excitement bubbling in your belly at the news you had learned from the healer you had told you. A gentle smile graced your face as you entered the cabin calling out for your lovers.

"Astarion, Halsin! I'm back!" You closed the door behind you, adjusting the basket you had in your arms. You could hear them in the kitchen area and soon Astarion entered the living room, smiling at you.

"Pet, I trust everything was alright? You didn't have to fight off any vagabonds?" You laughed and shook your head, walking to him and kissing his cheek.

"Nothing so exciting. Just got a few things we will be needing. I trust Halsin is in the kitchen?"

"I am, my Heart!" His voice carried as Astarion reached forward to take your basket only for you to move it out of his grasp, shaking your head.

"No, no. This is a surprise for you and Halsin. You can see what it is after we eat lunch." Astarion gave you a questioning look but relented, moving to the side and motioning for you to walk into the kitchen. You walked in and saw Halsin, finishing the meal's preparation. He looked over his shoulder at you and gave you one of his soft smiles.

"My Heart, how was your errand?" You returned his smile as you took a seat at the small table, putting the basket next to you.

"It was fine. Nothing too exciting." Astarion followed your lead, sitting next to you as Halsin set the light meal of meats, berries, and bread in front of you. "Actually I got something I wanted to show you and Astarion." He looked at you, puzzled before taking the last seat across from you.

"Oh? Any what is it?" His eyes darted from you to the basket, hiding his curiosity only a little bit better than Astarion who was trying to steal a glance into the basket. You reached into the basket, looking between the two of them.

"Close your eyes. And no peaking, Astarion." Astarion rolled his eyes but smiled as he closed his eyes as Halsin did the same. You reached into the basket, pulling out a soft baby blanket and a pair of tiny shoes. You set the blanket into Halsin's waiting hands and then the pair into Astarion's smiling. "Alright, go ahead and open your eyes.

They opened their eyes, looking down at their hands. Astarion's face went blank, gently touching the tiny shoes as if they would turn to dust. Halsin ran his large hands over the soft material, a smile gracing his face before he looked up to you.

"Was this your errand today, my Heart?" You nodded your head, placing your hand over your stomach.

"Yes, I missed my monthly bleeding and as Astarion has noticed I've been getting sick, so I went to see a healer today and confirm." Halsin stood up, walking to your side and kissing you gently and placing his hand over your own. You glanced over at Astarion as he sat there like a statue, staring at the tiny shoes.

"Astarion?" You tried to keep your voice calm, but it wavered slightly causing him to glance up at you. He did not say a word as he put the shoes down on the table, leaning over to you and placing his hand on top of yours and Halsin's.

"We're going to have a baby." You smiled and nodded your head, trying to blink back the tears that you could feel pricking up.

"Yes, we’re going to have a baby." Astarion gave you both a smile before kissing you gently as Halsin nuzzled your neck.

"I guess this means no more midnight snacks for me, from you at least." You laughed at Astarion, feeling Halsin chuckle.

"Not until we meet our newest arrival." Astarion's eyes drifted down to your hands, smiling softly.

"It will be worth it. Should we start a betting pool on if they are a boy or a girl?" Halsin laughed, throwing his head back and looked at Astarion.

"No matter what the cub is, they will be loved."

"Agreed." You smiled at the two of them, feeling overwhelmed with excitement and love with thoughts of the future.

Want to buy me a coffee or commission a short story? Find me here: https://ko-fi.com/littleleonlion

#bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #astarion x reader x halsin #astarion x tav x hasin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #tw pregnancy #tw: pregnancy

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pinkroseblooms · 2 months

Text

Boy Toy, Pt.2

Sugar Baby!TojixSugar Mama!f!Reader

Summary: Something's changed in your dynamic lately; Toji makes it clear the night you unknowingly push him towards desperate measures to ensure you keep your promise. AU without sorcerers and curses, etc, forgot if I mentioned that in the previous part. wc: 4.3k a/n: warnings and tags include smut, rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, dubcon, threats of forced impregnation/kidnapping, yandere!Toji, possessive behavior, toxic ass behavior, emotional manipulation, jealousy, sub/dom elements, sort of pet play(ngl I'm not sure?) reader is pretty twisted as well, lots inappropriate stuff, I'll add more later if I need to. Enjoy!

Nothing really changes the next few weeks; in the aftermath of your attempt to cut ties with Toji, you’ve found it fairly easy to return to the previous “arrangement” between the two of you. The only difference is that Toji is more...affectionate?

Granted, he’s never been shy: when the line between client and employer had been crossed, Toji became quickly accustomed to invading your personal space pretty much any time the mood struck him. Whether it was sweeping you up in his arms to pin you against whatever nearby surface was stable enough to rail you against or just giving your bottom a playful pinch, Toji would strike without warning or care for your busy schedule. For the most part, you had no complaints, as long as Toji was mindful to not leave marks that couldn’t be easily covered. As for non sexual contact, it was almost always you who initiated hugs, chaste kisses, hand holding, etc. Toji allowed it, welcomed it eventually, but it was rare for him to be the one to initiate unless the physical touches were leading to sex.

“You smell so good.”

“You need to shave.” You chuckle softly as Toji nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble leaving a slightly red mark as it itches the skin. “I should smell nice; because of someone I had to wash up again.”

After you finally managed to pry Toji off you, you had hopped into the shower while he stayed lounging in the bed, feeling too lazy to do more than wipe himself off with the shirt he had practically ripped in two to take off earlier. You were sitting in front of your vanity, having planned out your outfit ahead of time and now you were trying to decide what to accessorize with while Toji offered such helpful suggestions as, “don’t wear panties” and “are you sure you don’t want to go again?”

“Whatcha getting all dolled up for?” Toji asks absently, pressing slow, sensual kisses down your shoulder. “Come back to bed. Let’s stay in tonight.”

“You say that like that isn’t what we do most nights.”

“You hate going out more than I do.”

“As true as that is,” You conceded lightly. “I still have obligations: the current CEO of Kamo invited me to dinner to discuss some proposals about shipping their products through us. You can eat without me, I’m planning on taking advantage of the free meal.”

“That’s my girl.”

One of your family’s company’s most influential associates cornered you after that morning’s meeting for a separate one on one dinner to go over the plans. You can grin and bear it to keep things genial, tedious as it all is. Choso Kamo is a little less rigid when he’s not around a group of people and you suppose he feels more relaxed speaking to someone he’s more familiar with.

“But ya know, I could just kill him for you.”

“Did you run out of your allowance already?” Your eyes drift from your face in the mirror to where Toji has returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “I told you, if you want more for betting, you’re on your own.”

“You can afford it.” Toji replies with a shrug, not making any move to slip his boxers back on. “I didn’t actually: what makes you assume I blew through the cash already?”

“Because, it sounds like you’re fishing for a job. Anyway, I don’t need you to kill anyone.” You dab a dot of cream over the faint dark circles under your eyes. “Not at the moment.”

“I heard this guy is into some shady side deals. Is he dangerous?”

“Allegedly. Anybody who does get their hands on incriminating evidence always seems to go radio silent.” You apply a touch of red to your lips. “He could be a problem if I offend him during our meeting, but he’s smart enough to know his place; as long as I don’t directly challenge what authority he believes he has over me, our negotiation will be smooth sailing. He’s not the type to try anything.”

“No worries, he’s not gonna try shit with me there.”

You raise an eyebrow at Toji’s smirking face. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m your bodyguard: shouldn’t I go along and, ya know, guard your body?” Toji’s eyes travel down your shoulders and back to your ass; you’re perched on the cushioned stool in front of your vanity. He loves watching you get ready, at least, he usually does. “I wouldn’t wear that clingy dress to a business dinner.”

“Which dress would you wear?”

“Cute.” Toji snorts. “When are we leaving?”

“I’m leaving in an hour and a half. Do I really need to explain why your presence would be detrimental to this occasion?” You absentmindedly fix your hair, mentally debating on wearing it up or down. Luckily the marks Toji had so savagely left had mostly faded; nothing that a little makeup and a strategically placed necklace wouldn’t cover. “We plan to discuss business, and that’s all.”

“I’d be going as your chaperone; he’ll probably have a couple men of his own posted outside the restaurant.”

“We’re meeting at his place.”

“His place.” Toji repeats flatly, easy going smirk falls. His eyes are boring holes into your head and you don’t need to glance in the mirror to know.

“It’s not the first time he’s had me over for a meal; he’s never made any inappropriate advances or threatened me.”

You sound bored as you explain all this to Toji, but it isn’t doing anything to pacify him. Why are you adamant about not having him come with you? He doesn’t need to be at the dinner table, he could stay outside the dining hall or sit in the car. It wouldn’t be the first time, even if it’s been a long while since you’ve had Toji play the role of hired muscle.

“How long have you known him?”

You pause to think. “Technically since we’ve been children, but we’ve never been particularly close. Our families' companies have always worked in tandem together and now we end up working together every now and then. He’s my age, give or take a year.”

“Good looking?”

“Yes, I’d say so.” You turn around slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to leave me for my colleague?”

Toji doesn’t find much humor in your attempt to get him to crack a smile.

“What if he does make a move? If you turn him down, isn’t that bad for business?”

“I highly doubt it; that’s really not Choso’s style.”

“Sure sounds like you know him well.”

“My point is, there’s nothing to get worked up about. I’m going to a business dinner, not a battlefield.”

Toji is vaguely familiar with who Choso Kamo is and his family’s reputation, but their questionable business dealings isn’t what’s making his hackles raise.

When he escorts you to social events, Toji can see what he suspects you don’t pay attention to: men and women alike seem to hold their breath when you speak to them directly. Their eyes linger, they don’t seem to even be cognizant of their own behavior. Men in particular will cast scornful looks Toji’s way, the bravest make snide comments under their breath only to wither under his own cold gaze.

It’s entirely possible that part of your allure is due to being so scarce in public: you only grace a function with your presence if it’s absolutely necessary or if it would be considered an affront to refuse the invitation. You’re not exactly a people person and you’re not actually as good at reading people as Toji: you prefer everything cut and dry; you’ve managed to get along by charisma more than anything else. Toji has noted that you’re a person people want to be liked by. They want your approval. Choso Kamo isn’t an exception. Toji recalls on two separate occasions the imposing man peeled himself away from his solitary position at his table to greet you and you alone. He’s the only one who holds Toji’s stare and returns it with a look of utter contempt.

Blind as you might be to it, Toji’s perceptive eyes can see how the man practically bounds over to you, eager gaze trained on your polite, but kind smile, the way his paw-like hand grips yours ever so carefully when you ask Choso about his brothers and make small talk. Choso wants your approval and Toji would bet a cool one million it’s not all he wants from you.

“Hey big guy, why don’t you order in something special for yourself for dinner?” You sit down on the edge of the bed next to him, lean your head against his shoulder and run one of your hands up and down his forearm. “What I want you to do is stay here, all warm and cozy in bed, while I handle all this boring work stuff. There’s absolutely no reason you need to concern yourself with Choso Kamo or anybody I might need to have these silly, boring dinner meetings with. Do you understand?”

“How often do you expect to be called out this late for ‘business dinners’?” Toji whips his head around, a deep frown marred his handsome features. “Don’t condescend to me; I’m not a fucking idiot.” he pulls his arm away from your comforting touch. “Shit, why don’t you just go marry the guy? He’s obviously the better fit: rich, got his own business, bet your family will fucking love him.”

“Oh for goodness sakes, I am not listening to this-”

“Sit down.” Toji easily pushes you by your shoulders so you plop right back down onto the mattress. “Don’t walk away from me. I already told you, if you think you can go behind my back and mess around with other men, you’re dead wrong. You get that lumbering jackass on the phone and cancel tonight because I’m telling you you’re not going.”

You stare up at him strangely. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“No, I mean,” A half smile of bewilderment comes to your lips. “I thought you were teasing, but…are you actually jealous?”

“No.”

You give Toji an unimpressed look. “Then why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum!” Toji barks, red faced and fists clenched; he’s itching to hit the pillows or the wall. He can’t remember the last time he had gotten this angry. “I’m just pissed.”

“Maybe, but I think you’re also worried.” You reply coolly. “I never even considered Choso before…but you know, he is my type. And he’s very agreeable when he’s not moody, reliable…I’m sure he would be a lot easier to train than another rabid dog I know.”

“I know what game you’re trying to play, little girl.” Toji leans down at the waist, arms on either side of you on the bed, as if to emphasize how much bigger and stronger he is. “You’re really pushing your luck.”

“Says the man with the gambling addiction.” You glance down between Toji’s legs. “Is that your way of trying to distract me?”

Toji follows your eyes; he hadn’t even noticed. He’s hard as a rock.

“I wonder what did it for you: was it pushing me down? Barking orders at me?” You reach up to poke Toji’s scrunched up nose. “Or did that talk about training do something to you?”

Toji doesn’t have to look down; he felt his cock twitch. You kiss his nose and put your hands on either side of his face.

“I really don’t intend on adopting another puppy anytime soon. Please Toji, be reasonable; I’ll only be gone for a few hours, you’ll barely miss me.”

Toji doesn’t say anything, but continues to scowl. He can hardly bring himself to think about it, but you’re wrong; he misses you every time you have to leave the house. Sure, Toji can spend his time however he likes with the allowance you give him and a house stocked with food and entertainment, but it doesn’t take long for him to get bored and sluggish. When you have to leave the house and don’t need him to escort you, Toji finds the things he used to get so much enjoyment out of have lost some of their charm. More and more lately Toji finds himself curling up either in your bed where he’s surrounded by your scent or napping on the nearest couch to the door. He hates how the click of the front door lock sends a wave of relief crashing over him, how a little voice echoes in his head “she’s home, finally” but Toji can ignore it while he’s busy stealing your breath away with kisses and clawing at your business casual clothes.

Besides, what if while he’s away at the track or the tables, you come back early? You might see he’s not there and decide to go back out or take on some other task thinking Toji’s content being left to his own devices. Maybe on one of those days you’ll stop at a cafe or a bar and you meet someone?

“You’re the smartest dumb person I ever met.” Toji chuckles softly in spite of how irritated he still feels. “Everywhere I go with you, there’s all these people and they’re all better suited and they all want you. It’s constant. You know how exhausting it is, knowing there’s all these assholes out there waiting to snatch you up the minute they see an opening?”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“And you’re wrong. I will…that much.” Toji tells you firmly. “Miss you. I don’t like you going out. Even if I get to go with you, I hate it ‘cause I gotta see how they all look at you. I didn’t used to; fuck, you made me proud. You make me proud,” he corrects himself quietly. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You look conflicted and Toji is hopeful; he’d like to avoid using force on you, even if he does get a kick out using his strength on you and handling you like a ragdoll. But this is different.

“Baby, why don’t you reschedule? Say you’re not feeling good and can’t make it tonight, any excuse.” Toji smiles roguishly as he slowly presses you down onto the bed, straddling your hips so you can feel the full weight of him and how hard he is. “You look too good dressed up like this…makes me wanna lock you up and keep you all to myself.”

“I suppose…I could speak with him over coffee. Something more casual.” You move up the bed and sigh as a spark comes back to Toji’s cold eyes. “You really are a scary guy, Toji.”

“I just don’t want to share you.” Toji rocks his hips, dragging the tip of his cock over the soft material of your dress; drops of precum stain the fabric. “So, so pretty.”

“Toji, I just got this!”

“Buy another.” Toji grinds against your thigh and gropes one of your tits roughly. “I’m gonna rip this one off anyway.”

You gasp as Toji makes good on his promise, his hands gripping the front of your dress and pulling it apart down the middle. The seams pop and the fabric tears right down the middle, revealing the matching lingerie set you had been wearing underneath; Toji curses under his breath.

“That’s what you were wearin’ underneath?” he asks incredulously. “Was this meant for him?”

“Of course not. I was going to surprise you when I got home.” You scolded him tersely. “Honestly, you have no tact.”

“Guess you need to train me better.”

Toji kisses you hard, not giving you much time to react as he forces his tongue into your mouth and starts grinding himself into your still covered pussy. You don’t fight it when Toji takes your wrists in one hand and holds them over your head; he’s not letting you go anytime soon. You’re too busy rubbing yourself back on him, loving the feel of his cock desperately trying to fuck you, like he can’t even wait for you to take off the panties.

“From now on you have to always tell me where you’re going and who’s gonna be there.” Toji’s demanding tone is a bit undermined by the way he’s groaning at the sight of your nipples poking through the lacey bra. “No late night meetings. And I don’t want you alone with him.”

“Choso wouldn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit. He’s probably a bigger freak than I am.” Toji pinches and rolls your nipple in his free hand. “I should fuck you while you call him.”

“Toji,” You say warily. “I thought we talked about this: you know I love you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Please, try to not let your temper get the best of you: I have a job to do and if you act up too much-”

“What?” Toji asks mockingly; he’s already pulling aside your soaked panties and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Come on, I’m dyin’ to know. Am I being a bad dog?”

You’re about to retort, but then Toji bends down, eyes locked on yours as he runs his tongue up your cheek with a slow, wet lick. You stare at him slightly taken aback but that turns into shock when Toji slams his cock into you all at once.

“Fuck!” Toji hisses. “So fucking tight…come on, tell me baby, tell me how you’ll punish me!”

But the second you open your mouth, Toji is thrusting; his hold around your wrists is painfully tight and he’s able to keep your thighs spread by pinning one down with his other hand. You cry out every time he slams into you, making the whole bed shake and the headboard slam against the wall.

“Think he can fuck you this good? Huh? You think he could make this pussy cream like I can?” Toji huffs and puffs, not slowing down even as he lowers his head to suck and rolls his tongue around your nipples, one at a time, making them shiny and wet with spit. “Got me trained to only want to fuck this pussy now anyway.”

“Too much!” You whine as Toji lets your hands go only to hook your knees under each of his elbows. “Toji, so deep, it’s too deep!”

“But babyyyyy, I have to.” Toji groans almost as if he’s exasperated with your protests. “I gotta breed you.”

“Wha-what are you…?”

“Uh huh. Nice and deep, gonna make sure all my cum takes.” Toji kisses your forehead with a twisted grin. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy now.”

“What?!” This is the most panicked he’s ever seen you. “I don’t want kids! I’m on birth control and-”

“They can only prevent so much. I’ll keep you tied up for a while,” Toji traces his fingers along your trembling lips. “I’ll keep cumming inside you, all night, every day, over and over. I’ll even destroy the pills if I have to.”

“No!”

“But I thought you loved me? It’s the only way I can think of keeping you…I mean, unless you were willing to do something else to make things a little more official?” Toji slows down his thrusts and looks down at you with a shit eating grin. “Ya know, something that shows other people you’re taken.”

“Something…?” You can barely breathe from exertion and confusion. “Official? Wait, are you saying you want us to get married?”

“Sounds fair enough, yeah? You already promised you would take care of me from now on.” Toji sighs and brushes hair out of your face. “Think of it this way, I get to put a ring around your finger ‘cause after all, you already put a collar around my neck.”

“You know, some people propose with a ring prepared and flowers, not threats of forcible impregnation.” Your voice is hardly more than a whisper. “Toji, I love you, you big idiot. If you wanted to, why not just ask me to marry you?”

“‘Kay, then…will you marry me?”

“I can get the papers ready tomorrow.” You ever so carefully put your hands on his shoulders lightly before moving in to hold him. “If that’s what it takes to put your mind at ease, consider me your wife. I’ve always considered you mine; honestly, do I have to collar and tag you to get it through your head? I have no plans to let you go, not unless you decide you want to leave.”

Toji chews on his lip as you hug him and give his neck butterfly kisses; suddenly he’s feeling anxious and tongue tied. Toji thought you might put up more of a fight: he knows what he is. He knows the disgusted looks thrown his way are warranted and he made peace with that years ago. If anything, it would be poetic justice for you to leave him high and dry, abandoning him without so much as a second thought.

You have to stop this. You think you’re taming a stray and making him a house pet, but Toji knows exactly what he is. If you keep indulging him this way it won’t settle his mind; every day is already a battle to not do exactly as he said he was going to do, keep you restrained and locked away from the world. Fuck the money, fuck your work, fuck everything you want and everything Toji believed he wanted. To hell with it all. What’s one more selfish, cruel act?

“Call him now.” Toji says suddenly, voice almost inaudible. “Call him and say you can’t make it because you forgot you had plans with your fiance.”

“Okay.” You nod. “But, um, I need to get my phone.”

“Actually, after we’re done.” Toji repositions your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist and his front is pressed flush against yours. “I still want to cum inside.”

“Okay, just be good.” You pet his hair, pushing his bangs off his face. “Can you be good for me, Toji? You were making me feel really good before; I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do it.”

Toji can’t keep his eyes off your face; he’s panting, a drop of drool slides past the corner of his mouth, running down his scarred lip as you moan underneath him. He’s touching you with less force, but now he’s focused on rubbing your breasts and clit in tandem while you squirm on his cock. You’re giving him a great show; he wishes he had his phone out to record you, a little something to keep him company during those long hours you’re gone.

“Gonna fuck my pretty wife. Gonna make her pussy a mess…” Toji inhales as you clench impossibly tight around him. “You like that? You like getting your pussy ruined by me?”

“Yes, yes, I want it!” You rock your hips, squealing as Toji latches his mouth onto your nipple and rubs your clit faster. “So good, feels so good getting fucked by my…my husband…ah, Toji!!!”

Toji looks up at you with wide eyes; you’re too lost in your orgasm to notice. With high pitched cries, your whole body shakes from the being touched in your most sensitive places at once. He can feel your slick run down his twitching cock; after a few seconds, you’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly and look down at him with a tired, loving smile.

“Cum in me…it’s okay, I want it.”

Toji’s pupils are blown wide as he starts thrusting again, considerably slower, but with just as much force as before. He slows down the closer he gets to cumming, only to pick up the pace and hike your legs higher over his hips, then his shoulders. You can’t even scream now; all you can do is dig your nails into the sheets and let out the sweetest most adorable little kitten like mewls Toji has ever heard. He knows you’re tired and sore and need to rest soon, but part of him just doesn’t want to stop.

“Baby, stay with me. Almost there, gonna cum so fucking hard.”

Toji hisses as your hands grab his biceps, gets even harder at the way your nails dig into his skin; he’s slick with sweat and from the combination of your pussy dripping in his lap and what he’s pretty sure is his own precum steadily leaking with every slam of his hips.

“Almost there, I need ya to, shit, just call me that again, come on baby, c’mon-”

“My…my husband.” You say with a shaky breath. “Want my husband to cum in me, please!”

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Toji shudders at the wet slapping with every time he thrusts, your desperate pleas tempting him to keep ravaging you until you’re passed out; he’s babbling now, voice hoarse and so loud it’s a wonder he can speak at all. “Yes, take it, just like that, take it all, gonna cum, take it all baby, fuck!”

“Good…good boy…”

With a long, low groan, Toji doubles over and has to struggle to not drop his entire body weight on you; he wants to see your pussy get filled first.

It’s dripping. Past his aching cock, past your puffy pussy lips, Toji’s cum drips onto his balls, down to the sheets in a little puddle. He came so much, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could taste it or if he ended up breeding you by accident anyway. All the better for him.

“Mine.” Toji rasps, arms pulling you in close, even as you weakly protest at his sweat drenched body and the mess; he pays no mind, in fact, he looks almost delirious as he grins at you. “Hey…since I was a good boy, do I get a treat?”

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the-dc-trash · 9 months

Text

“Earned It.”

summary : to which (Name) revealed she never really enjoyed oral until Jason changed her mind.

tags : NSFW, AFAB reader, oral (f!receiving), squirting, 18+ content, minors dni

note: this is my first time writing smut 😭

part ii

Jason Todd freezed at the revelation of what his bestfriend, (Name) said. It was something normal that’s for sure, but for her? She always bragged about her sex life, how she managed to pull everyone just by batting her eyelashes, to think that she—

“Never enjoyed receiving oral?” Jason has to ask her, if he heard her correctly. (Name) smiled sheepishly at that with a half shrugged as they continue to play a game of chess, she managed to get Jason’s pawn to which he grumbled because he got distracted. “It’s boring and they always get bored down there, so I just… y’know, never enjoyed them.”

He watched her carefully and down to the chessboard, that can’t be right, he thought, as someone as beautiful as her, they deserve to be worshipped in any way. She noticed this of course, how his brows furrowed and lips curled down to a frown— and she definitely knew what was going on his mind right now.

“So, how about we—“

“Jason.”

—

(Name) has her fingers clutching on Jason’s hair, she was pressed up to his couch, her legs resting on his broad shoulders and his big hands rested on her bare waist, occasionally drawing circles with his thumb on her soft skin and (Name) could only moan when his lips began to work on her.

Jason absolutely loved how her wet cunt tasted on his tongue, the way she pushed her hips up to his lips, loving how he licked her slit and sucked on her clit like it was his favorite dessert that he’ll never get sick off, he could do this for hours and he’ll thank (Name) for it, for letting him taste her for his own pleasure.

He traced his name with his tongue on her pussy, as if he’s claiming it for his own to eat, to fuck and to use. It’s his and he’s been waiting for so long to have (Name)’s body against his, he always wondered how soft she is and how she looks like under him, and it was such a pretty sight to see her like this, drunk on the feeling he’s giving her. Jason closed his eyes, his hands moving upward to grope her breast and marveled how they fit perfectly on his palm, his thumb running over her nipples and Jason felt them perked up that made him moaned in satisfaction.

“Jason.” She mewled, arching her back and Jason quickly flickered his tongue to her sensitive clit, sucking it just like how she likes it before dipping his tongue inside her, drinking all the slick from her puffy pussy. (Name) can only whine and moan from pleasure that made Jason grind on the couch, feeling his cock harden at her sounds that he’s been pulling out of her since this first started.

She sounds so beautiful right now that he couldn’t help but to enjoy his meal, making sure everything about her was given the utmost attention. “Taste so fuckin’ good for me.” Jason groaned, his one hand now prying her one leg wider before tracing his fingers across her slit. “Such a good girl, getting all wet.” With that, he slowly pushed his thick middle and ring finger, spreading her wide open slowly that (Name) lets out a lewd moan. “O-oh— fuck, please— don’t stop, ‘s good.”

And who was Jason to deny her?

His thick fingers made sure to go to a slow pace, her warm cunt hugged them so nicely while his mouth keeps sucking on her sensitive clit, listening to her now loud moans that’s pulling him in further more to his addiction and desires he has for (Name). Deciding this isn’t enough, he plunged in deeper and curled his fingers that (Name) gasped as she felt something that made her see stars, it was unfamiliar that Jason grinned up to her, feeling a sense of pride that he found her spot.

“Ja-Jason—“

“Shh, you can take it, baby. You’re my good girl, right?” The feeling of his fingers hitting the same spot over and over again made her eyes roll back to the back of her head, nodding dumbly, her body was completely submitting to Jason. “Mhm, yeah, ‘m your good girl, f-fuck—“

“Yeah? You’re my good girl?” Jason smirked up to her, he wasn’t slowing down, he’s enjoying all her reactions, how she looks right now with her hair a mess, her skin glistening with sweat, and how her soft lips parted at the pleasure and it’s all because of him. “Y—Yes, please, Jason, I love your tongue, it feels so good— ‘m gonna…”

Jason didn’t stopped, he doesn’t want to, and he knew she was getting close from the way her thighs began to tremble, her hips desperately grinding on his lips and how her fingers tightened on his hair.

“Cum for me.”

And she did more than that, (Name) did not disappoint when she arched her back, her thighs trembling, her eyes widening when she realized what was going on and gushed out to which Jason happily slurped it all to his heart content with a grin on his lips when (Name) squirted.

“O-oh— fuck!” She tried pulling Jason away from her sensitive pussy when he keeps sucking her clit. He chuckled and pressed soft kisses of the inside of her thick thigh, occasionally leaving them marks before returning his cocky grin when (Name) was breathing out heavily, looking up at the ceiling as if she can’t believe that happened, that her best friend ate her out and enjoyed it.

“Didn’t know you were a squirter, (Name).” Jason teased that she shot him a look of disapproval, watching her slick trailed off to his lips down to his chin. Realizing she was watching, Jason wiped it off with his licking it as he keeps his eyes locked on her.

“I didn’t know I can do that.” She defended weakly, panting heavily at the sight of Jason still drunk on the feeling.

Jason laughed softly and suddenly he wrapped his arm around her waist, turning her to bend her over the couch. She was about to complain but a whined escaped her lips when she felt his cock lining up to her entrance, it feels like she is energized again by the thought of her best friend fucking her from behind that she arched her back and wiggled her hips for a show.

“Well, how about another round?”

And who was (Name) to deny him that?

#jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd one shot #smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader smut #jason #todd #jason todd x you smut #you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x y/n smut #comic jason todd

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daisynik7 · 7 months

Note

“How Do I Breathe” by Mario for Eren Yeager - Angst

How Do I Breathe

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x reader (gender-neutral)

Word Count: ~0.9k

cw: angst, mentions of anxiety, depression, and panic attacks, established relationship, hurt/comfort, modern day setting

Summary: Eren makes a big decision to move overseas to Marley for a new job, away from all his friends, his family, and worst of all, you. He realizes the hard way that this might have not been the best decision for him.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for the request for the y2k karaoke party, anon! This song is sad, perfect for some Eren angst! I dug deep for this, pulling from some personal experience I had with my partner not too long ago. Hope you like it! Likes, reblogs, and/comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading!

Eren stares up the ceiling, lying in the bed of his tiny studio apartment. The faucet drips slowly; he must’ve not shut it off all the way, causing it to leak. Every now and again, police sirens blare past, fading in the distance to whatever routine crime is happening a couple blocks down. By two in the morning, college kids return from their late-night parties, slurring their words loudly in the hallway, slamming their doors shut without any care for their neighbors. It doesn’t matter though; regardless of the surrounding commotion, Eren can’t sleep.

It takes him one month to realize the vast differences between Marley and Paradis. It’s one thing to read about it in books or magazines, it’s another to experience it personally. Here, everything moves in fast forward, constantly in motion, no time to stop and smell the roses. Sometimes, he doesn’t have time to think, always pressured to make a rash decision. Work is the same; people always on the go, hasty to make deadlines. It’s even worse because it’s dog-eat-dog, no sense of teamwork or community, everyone trying to compete with each other for that raise or promotion.

Life on Paradis was simple. Small towns, tight knit communities, the type of place where everyone knows everyone and you were never alone. Eren spent nearly his entire childhood glamorizing the world beyond the sea. He stayed in Paradis throughout college and when a job opportunity came to relocate to Marley, he didn’t hesitate to take it. When he made that decision, you were nervous about doing long-distance. “It’s only an hour away by plane, two hours by boat!” he claimed, excited. How could you deny him of this? The dream he had since he was a little kid? So, despite your concerns about it, you agreed to stay together.

Two months in, you start noticing changes in his demeanor. His voice on the phone becomes more docile. His face during video chats looks tired, dark circles under his eyes, gauntness in his cheeks, as if he hasn’t been sleeping well. No matter how hard you try to pry it out of him, he’ll never admit that he’s starting to feel depressed, desperate to cling onto this dream of his. A dream that has gradually turned into a nightmare.

Four months in, unable to sleep, mind racing, he grabs his phone, dialing your number, praying that you answer. The air is thick, making it difficult to breath, throat tight and chest heavy. After three rings, you pick up, your voice concerned. “Eren? Are you okay?”

Tears stream down his face, breathing labored, barely able to talk. “No, I’m not,” he manages to say.

You sit up in your bed, fully awake now, giving him your full attention. “Sweetie, breathe, okay? Just breathe for me.”

He sniffles, choking on his spit, trying his best to calm down. His fingertips are tingling now, body cold and rigid, heart racing wildly. He’s convinced he’s about to die, here in this dinky apartment. Alone.

“Eren, breathe with me. Please. Listen to me and do it with me, okay?” You inhale deeply through your nose, exhale slowly out your mouth, loud enough for him to hear. It takes him a bit to collect himself, but when he does, he copies you, pausing only a few times to wipe his face on his blanket.

“Good job, baby. You’re doing great,” you encourage him, listening to him carefully.

It continues like this for several minutes, until his breathing returns to a normal pace. Eventually, he murmurs, “I can’t do it anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to be here anymore. Away from family. My friends. You.” He swallows hard, sinking into pillows. “I’m miserable. It’s nothing like what I imagined.”

Your heart sinks, tempted to say whatever you can to bring him back, bring him home. But you don’t. Instead, you say, “Give it more time. You can make friends there.”

He snorts. “The people here don’t want friends. They want allies. People they can use. You know how much I hate that.”

You remain silent, listening to him, unsure what else to say.

He continues, breathing normally now. “I thought this is what I wanted. To be free, to explore my horizons, all that cliché bullshit. I thought the other side of the sea would bring me joy. But here, I’m so lonely. I miss you so much.” He pauses for a beat, eventually adding, “This place sucks.”

You laugh at his crassness, tears welling in your eyes. “I miss you too, Eren. It’s lonely without you here. It doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

He smiles into the phone, warmth returning to his body, wishing he was with you. Wishing he could hug you and kiss you and cuddle with you until he falls asleep peacefully in your arms. “I’m sorry for being a selfish idiot. I should have never left.”

“You’re not a selfish idiot,” you assure him. “It’s good that you tried it out. And who knows, maybe in another universe, you would have really loved Marley.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous idea. “I think in all possible universes, I would still hate Marley.”

You giggle, glad to hear him back to his normal self.

Six months after his move to Marley, Eren returns home, safe and sound.

#eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger angst #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager angst #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan angst #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot angst #eren x reader #eren angst #y2k karaoke party #milestone event

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yesimwriting · 1 year

Text

Purpose

“This is the fic I talked about here

Summary: Episode 3 was too beautiful for me not to write a fic where bill’s letter makes joel think about reader

anyways this isn’t an exact recreation of the episode,, it’s more about location and the vibes of the episode

----

The words won’t stop echoing in his head. Again and again, a round of bullets bouncing around in his mind, desperate for a target to pierce. Bill’s letter was written in anything but malice, yet it still manages to pry into Joel, get under his skin the way nothing has in a long time.

Purpose. Saving, taking care of who’s worth it. The mention of Tess. The way his mind keeps floating to you.

He shouldn’t. You haven’t been around long enough to even scratch at the surface of what Bill and Frank had. He knows that, but his mind won’t stop weaving the sentiment in Bill’s words to all the bits of you he knows. The tempo of them matches the sound of your laugh, the emotion behind them tethers itself to the tugging feeling that lingers in his chest whenever you tilt your head and look at him with those eyes when pitching something he’d instinctually say ‘no’ to.

It’s never a form of manipulation, either. It’s always teasing, always pushing in good humor, always innocent. You never take advantage, never try to. He doesn’t even think you know that you have that specific look. One person worth saving.

There’s a soft creaking of floorboards. Joel turns his head instinctually, body stiffening in an instinctual preparation for the worst. Oh. His eyes find you and his stance instinctually eases. “Guys.” You’re more excited than you want to seem, completely unaware of the thoughts in his head. “They have hot water.”

Ellie recovers faster than he can. For a brief second, Joel feels a pang of something oddly close to jealousy at her ability to interact casually. “No, shit--really?”

“Really,” you confirm, “Does anyone want the first shower or can I steal it?”

Turning her head, Ellie briefly looks like she’s considering asking for it instead, but then her eyes flit back to Joel. He’s staring, a little more out of it than she’s yet to see him. There’s something bordering on awkward in the way that he’s watching you.

Oh. The realization finally hits Ellie. A hot shower would be amazing, but putting it off for a little will definitely be worth this. “I’m okay with that.”

You nod in her direction with a quick mumble of appreciation before turning your eyes to focus on Joel. You’re not doing the plead-y thing. His thoughts swell. Of course you’re just waiting patiently for an answer, genuinely willing to give up the first shower spot that you could have just taken.

“Joel?”

Shit. He hasn’t responded. “Ye--” It’s a small sound that’s not quite a word that Joel quickly disguises by clearing his throat. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Ellie’s eyes are burningly obvious. Even if you didn’t notice, Joel’s never hearing the end of it from that kid.

You lean against the doorway. “You good?”

“Fine,” now he’s replying too quickly, “Just--Bill said a lot more to me than he ever has.” Great. His second mistake. The last thing he needed to do was hint at emotion, the one thing guaranteed to sway you away from the promise of a hot shower. “If you ask me about my feelings you’re losing your first shower spot and I’ll run the sink until it’s icy.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest. “You wouldn’t, Miller.”

“Try me.”

He can feel your eyes burn through him, can sense the way you see through his shit. You don’t push, you just straighten your stance, “Fine, you’ll only have that threat until I’m out of that shower.”

Joel keeps his expression flat. “Plenty of time for me to think of a new one.”

“Looking forward to it.”

When you disappear out of his line of sight, his breathing improves and worsens all at once. Joel curses the ridiculousness of it. Sure, there were certain thoughts when he was around you before the letter, but this is something else. Something he needs to get over fast.

He lets his eyes drop towards Ellie and he takes her grin as the gut punch it is. “I’ve never seen you shy--it’s cute.”

“Don’t.”

She doesn’t even have the decency to pretend to be influenced by the gruffness of his voice. “Don’t what?”

The false innocence in Ellie’s tone isn’t worth engaging with. Joel glares, turning to leave the room before anything else can be said.

----

Leave it to the end of the world to teach someone how to appreciate the little things. A lifetime of warm showers with a guarantee of water that could hold the temperature long enough for someone to really feel clean and Joel doesn’t think he’s ever understood the world of good a shower could do someone until now.

You had been diligent, worried about taking up the time and heated water from anyone else, but when you stepped out of the bathroom, hair still wet, Joel practically forgot how to look you in the eye. It’s not that the shower changed you completely, though clean and safe is a good look on you, it’s that it made things feel normal. The kind of normal that would take nothing to slip into and turn to habit.

He had practically ducked out of the room when Ellie told him to go ahead since he so clearly needs a shower more than she does. It felt like the beginning of some kind of scheme, but there was nothing he could say with you in the room. So what if Ellie makes a comment or two? That doesn’t mean she knows anything. It’s not like Joel...he doesn’t. He can’t. Not with you.

As he showers, he thinks of not thinking. Focuses on dislodging those thoughts from his mind. The echo of Bill’s words hold firm as they merge with memories of you.

What makes a person worth taking care of so completely? Does the worthiness come from kindness or personal attachment or some natural, intrinsic quality?

It doesn’t matter. No matter how many times he runs through all the potential categories, Joel knows who always fits it.

“Well, don’t you look pretty.” Ellie’s voice snaps him out of that train of thought. Before Joel can reply, she turns, “Don’t you think so?”

You blink, Joel briefly debates locking Ellie in some other room until it’s time to go. You take your time glancing over at him. “Yeah.” It’s been too long since things that mattered in the past have come up for him. He isn’t used to being overly aware of his appearance. The strangeness of it is daunting. “Joel’s the prettiest.”

A cop out enough answer. It’s an easy way to appease Ellie and keep from turning something casual into something weird. Joel mentally scolds himself for being surprised. What else could he have expected? That you’d immediately jump to describe your opinions on his appearance?

There’s no way that would have been a particularly good thing. He may not be as aware of his appearance as he was before the world changed, but he knows that he’s both older than you and made up of tattered edges more akin to shards than anything else.

Ellie starts to approach the doorway. “I’m gonna take a shower.” Maybe that will help Joel regain control of whatever ill timed spiral this is. Removing Ellie’s comments and sideways glances definitely won’t make things worse. “For at least 30 minutes.”

It’s said with a deliberate slowness and Joel can feel heat settle in his face. “Just go.”

She holds her hands up in mock defense before turning and finally leaving. Joel frowns at the realization that his mental tension doesn’t immediately vanish with her.

You turn casually, “That was weird.”

“She’s a kid,” he mumbles, “Kids are weird.”

There’s not that much space between the two of you. A casual distance that could be destroyed by a few steps. It’s an impulse that burrows itself deep beneath his skin. Joel straightens to avoid giving into the need to be closer.

“Yeah.” It’s a breath, casual and flat. Joel finds himself unexplainably grated by the sound. He’s not the kind of person that dwells on others. Especially not in this way. “You know what’d be fun?”

Joel swallows at the easy transition. You walk past him and towards the wooden table top. He isn’t sure what your goal is until your fingers bend around a neck of a bottle of wine. There’s something particular about the way the corner of your mouth tugs upwards. Mischievous.

“I-” He clears his throat again. “I’ve gotta drive.” You say nothing, but that touch of an almost pout and the goddamn head tilt. “We need to stay alert.”

You let out a sigh, turning the bottle in your hand. “You’re going to get out-of-it drunk off of one glass of wine?”

He can’t afford anything right now. “You might.”

“You’ve never seen me drink.”

So much indignation. Joel fights against a grin. You’ve spent most of your adult life in a post-outbreak world. There likely hasn’t been much opportunity for you to build your tolerance. And at this point, he feels like he knows you, and nothing about your personality or general being indicates that you’d be able to handle your alcohol.

Sure, he doesn’t think you’ll genuinely be drunk after one glass, but he also doesn’t believe you’ll stick to that. A light buzz here wouldn’t be the worst thing, but it’d be inefficient. An additional distraction that Joel is doing his best to keep from.

Joel sighs at the accusatory way you raise your eyebrows. “I can still tell.”

You roll your eyes. “I should go through with it just because you said that.” He watches you set down the bottle.

The lack of protest hits him harder than it should. It was a small thing to ask for and there was such a genuineness in the way you introduced it. You know what’d be fun? Even your defense was framed innocently. You’ve never seen me drink. Like the whole idea was more about the two of you than the actual drinking. Like you’re friends more than you are just friendly.

Once again, his mind latches back onto the letter. An element he doesn’t need in the air right now. “Y/n.”

“I said we didn’t have t--” Joel grabs the bottle and takes a quick sip before you can finish your sentence. The immediate half-laugh-half-scoff that follows makes it all worth it. “Classy.”

He does all he can to keep from smiling, but he isn’t sure he’s fully successful. “Always have been.”

It’s the stupid kind of joke that you and Ellie would have exchanged a look over. You two would have picked it a part, pointing out the evident laziness of it. Instead of that, you laugh again before pushing away from the counter. He’s still as you walk towards him.

The entire thing is casual until your eyes meet his. Joel’s body instinctually locks into place. It’s a form of defense, of keeping this moment from shattering. Your hand moves forward slowly--or maybe you’re moving normally and everything just feels slow when you’re focusing on him like that--until it finds the bottle. The tip of your fingers brush against the back of his palm.

For a second, that’s all that exists. All that matters. You squeeze the bottle and Joel lets you take it. “You know it’s hard to measure a single glass without the actual glass.”

You set the bottle down and turn your attention towards finding any type of cup. Joel keeps quiet as you find the set of long stemmed wine glasses. You set out two of them and fill them each a little less than halfway. A reasonable amount. A controllable amount.

Turning back to face him, you hand him a glass.

“One glass.”

Nodding once, you pick up your own. “One.” Extending your glass with no warning, you quickly clink them together. A soft cheers.

----

About three glasses later.

“...That doesn’t,” laughter, “make--make sense.”

There’s no slurring, but the small giggles pressed sporadically throughout the single sentence cues Joel in on something he should have taken into consideration about two glasses ago. You’re tipsy. Not drunk or fully out of it, but buzzed in some sense of the word. Buzzed enough to not even pretend to follow on his comment that hadn’t really meant anything.

Joel sighs, forcing a bit of annoyance into the sound. “Maybe not to you.”

You pout without reservation. “That’s rude.”

Reaching around him without any tact, you try to find the bottle. “That’s enough.”

Joel can deal with how you are now, but any further could be risky. It’s not like the three of you are settling in this house. His hand finds its way to your wrist as you try to squirm back. It takes you less than a minute to still. Joel doesn’t pull away. A second longer. Just to be sure.

He returns your hand to his side gently, easing you back into place by your wrist. “I’m not drunk.”

There’s no argument in your voice, no protest or anything that gives any indication of your flat observation. The certainty in your voice settles against Joel’s skin like a second layer. It doesn’t feel like it’s coming from the same person that just couldn’t get through a sentence without being interrupted by a fit of laughter.

Joel’s chin tilts downwards in a barely there nod that he trusts you to pick up on. “Never said you were.” The realization that he hasn’t let you go yet hits him with no warning. His pointer finger and thumb are still grasping your wrist. It’d be so easy to turn over your hand and let your palms meet. “We should keep it that way.”

“I trust you.” You breath out the words reluctantly, like you’re annoyed by the truth of it. The casualness of your voice has to prove that you don’t mean anything by it. Smiling almost, you breeze past what you just said. “This is fun. I haven’t gotten wine buzzed sin--” The cut off is jarring, but Joel knows better than to push. “Awhile. Since Ruth.”

A name that has only ever slipped out from time to time. Joel’s picked up on enough pieces to know that it’s sore subject. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Your eyes feel distant, you’re going somewhere else now. “Ruth was like a grandmother to me. Sweetest old lady, tough as nails, too.” You laugh again, the sound sharply bittersweet. “She didn’t like being handled or taken care of, but she was getting a little older and she--she was developing some kind of early memory issue. One day we got into this warehouse and it was full of wine. So we drank and then...” Eyes practically glazing over, you angle your chin downwards. You wipe at your face with the back of your palm. “I don’t know how I didn’t know. She had been talking about not wanting to live in a world where she couldn’t remember her children or-or take care of herself, and she’d been struggling a little more.” Joel swallows once as you pause. “She waited until I fell asleep. Left a note saying she’d never be a burden.”

Joel relaxes the fingers wrapped around your wrist and turns his palm outwards. You meet him half way, interlocking your fingers with his. It surprises him more than it should.

There haven’t been many times in which Joel actively reflected and wished that he could be different in some way. It’s his ability to remain detached and distant from emotions that have allowed him to last. But if he were some other version of himself, he’d be able to say something insightful or sympathetic or maybe even kind.

But he’s not, so after the second, the only thing he can manage to say is, “Sounds like the kind of person you’d care about.”

It feels like a wrong reaction, and maybe it would have been for someone else, but you give no indication of being upset. You let out a sad kind of laugh. “You know, now that you mention it you do kind of fill the grumpy, old lady void in my life.”

The implication of your joke should sting more than it does considering the mess of his train of thought today, but it tugs at something in him instead. “Funny.”

“Just like Ruth would have said.”

He sighs, too aware that his expression doesn’t project the right kind of annoyance. You’re smiling again, though, like you’re pressing your lips together to keep from laughing. It’s a reset, knowing that you’re feeling better and that in some way it’s because of him.

It clicks then. Settles like the world after a storm. Joel understands. It’d be easy to build a life out of protecting someone. He sees how it’s the kind of purpose that can burn away the frayed edges of someone that seems to be made of them.

“Y/n.” His throat feels dryer than he remembers it being. There’s an uncertainty in where to go next, but you feel the shift the same way he does. Joel sees it in the soft nod of your head. “Y’know what Bill said in his letter?” His eyes flit away from you, “’About purpose and...”

You were exploring the home when Ellie read the letter, but you had picked it up and read about half of it before Joel took it back. It was a bit petty, but you didn’t press. It’s his business more than yours.

What you had read had gotten to you and you didn’t even know Bill and Frank. It must have Joel, even if he refuses to let it be obvious. “I know it must have been hard to hear, but it--what I did read sounded like a better way to live than most did even before.” The response fits you. Of course you’d see it. “Sorry, that was--that was probably overstepping. They were your...” You hesitate, unsure if friend or associate would be more fitting. “You knew them and--”

“No,” he breathes, “You’re right.” Joel takes a moment to just look at you, to take in what it feels like to be standing somewhere safe, holding your hand. “It does sound like a good way to be.”

Joel doesn’t know what to take from your reaction. The way your eyes widen just enough to be noticeable. You didn’t expect that level of candor from him, especially not about something so close to feel-y. “You think it’s unrealistic?”

Your question comes out almost hesitant. It’s the kind of thing you would have never asked if it hadn’t been for the wine. The way you clamp your mouth shut after speaking is evidence enough.

There’s so much he could say to that, but nothing feels like it’d fit. “Not for you.”

You smile again but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “It isn’t for you, either.” Eyes briefly dropping, you tact on an almost shy, “If you wanted it. I know you’re...” Tilting your head in that one way that always gets under his skin, you settle on, “Most comfortable with what you know.”

Joel presses his lips together before correcting his expression into something more neutral. The sensation that he’s teetering on something twists at the air in his lungs. “You sayin’ I’m set in my ways?”

Your amusement feels genuine again, free from whatever had been eroding at it before. His words are another step forward, an attempt at meeting you in the middle. “It’s not a bad thing.” When Joel raises his eyebrows, you let out a sigh. “You’ve said worse about me.”

He fights down a grin. “Doesn’t sound like me.”

“Yeah, you’re a damn sweetheart.”

This time Joel lets himself react in the form of what’s almost a laugh. “That’s more like it.” Your eyes soften and there’s a warmth there that Joel doesn’t know how to hold onto. It melts at a part of him he didn’t think existed. It’s dangerous, more risky than the wine. “Do you think you’d--you want that?”

You blink and Joel can find no way to blame you for your hesitance. The question was blurted out so haphazardly, so unlike what it is and now it’s looming over the both of you.

Your mind is racing in a way you can’t justify. It’s not the question, but the way it came out of Joel, coated in a layer of hesitance that practically felt nervous in a way that doesn’t suit him. “Yeah.” The single syllable is so low it almost feels like a secret. “I--I think I do.” It’s surprising to you. “You said it yourself--it’s a good way to be. I’m sure for some people, it’d even be peaceful.”

Joel’s jaw briefly locks at that last part. “And if it’s someone that can’t give you that last part?”

The hollowness of the question startles you out of your initial reaction. The words alone would have been fine if they felt less raw. Your mind can’t wrap around them this way. “I uh--I’d probably be the unpeaceful one.” You don’t think you can describe it in a way that anyone would understand. “Caring about anyone that openly and trusting them to do the same...I don’t think I’d be a natural at that.”

You don’t want to dwell on your words or the honesty of them, so you move on the only way you can think to: “What about you?”

He should have known that you’d ask. He should have thought through some kind of response that wouldn’t leave him exposed. Then again, maybe that was the point of leading you here. Bill and Frank were here one day and now they’re not.

“Y/n...” You’re silent, waiting patiently for the end of his sentence. There’s so much to say that none of it can come out. It traps itself in his throat. Too much about the day he first met you, the first time he heard you laugh, the first night when Ellie fell asleep with her head on your shoulder, the fact that knowing you’re okay could fix practically anything. “I don’t know why I’m still here and I’m not too sure Bill was right about me, but I...” The words jam in on themselves and Joel takes it as an opportunity to drag his thumbs across your knuckles like this might be his last chance to do so. “I think you might be part of it.”

The lack of immediate response twists at his stomach. Joel moves to take his hand back and at the last second you snap back into reality. You squeeze his hand, pulling him back towards you. “Joel...” You’re watching him so intently Joel needs to do something. He steps forward. “Are you--are you saying--”

Sometimes action comes more naturally than words. Joel knows that, knows the familiarity of jumping into something when there’s nothing left. He moves his hand up your arm and settles it on your shoulder. His other hand brushes against your cheek. He pauses long enough to give you a chance to protest. You don’t.

Closing the distance between you is a snap of everything into place. He can’t remember the last time something felt so natural. You melt into him, fitting into place like you’ve always been there.

You’re warm enough to melt through all of his reservations. Joel places a hand on your side, pulling you even closer. It could be an eternity or it could only be a few seconds. You start pulling back first, Joel chases after you, grazing his teeth against your bottom lip.

You move back only enough to breathe, but you can’t bring yourself to let go of him. “Joel.” You want to tell him you get it now and that you agree. That you’d come back to this again and again. That he’s your purpose. “It’s you.”

It’s the only thing you can say, but that’s okay. You trust him to understand.

----

Taglist: @ciniluv

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou #tlou x reader #the last of us #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us fanfic #tlou show #tlou fluff

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natimiles · 2 months

Text

Sweet Surprises (Isaac x reader)

Summary: You make Valentine’s chocolates to give to Isaac, but you haven’t thought about how you’d give them to him! Maybe you’d just sneak into his bedroom and leave them there… Hopefully, it (doesn’t) work.

Words: 3058

Tags: valentine’s day; fluffy; start of a relationship; no specified pronouns for reader.

Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day! For Isaac lovers, I hope this makes your day happier. For those who don't like him, I hope it makes your day happier too, and you can see how lovable this man is! HASUIEHSAIUHEAS.

You tiptoe to the kitchen in the dead of night, careful not to make any noise that might awaken others or attract the attention of those still awake. You must be extremely cautious, as you haven’t even informed Sebastian about using the kitchen to make Valentine’s chocolates at this ungodly hour. He would kill you if he caught you right now, with ingredients spread all over the counters and making a mess in less than five minutes.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” you mutter to yourself. “I just have to be fast and quiet.”

And you manage to do just that. You’re almost finished, feeling content that you could pull it off even though it was so last minute. But you’re proud of them! They’ve turned out quite nicely, and you’re admiring the little chocolates in the shape of stars when you hear footsteps approaching.

Oh no!

You couldn’t risk Isaac seeing it and knowing it was for him, and you couldn’t afford to make more for the rest of them if anyone else saw it. So you run to the door to try to stop whoever is coming, and you come face to face with the physicist.

“Oh, my God!” He puts a hand on his chest and yelps when he sees you rushing. He tries to steady his voice and pretend he’s calm. “What are you doing?!”

“Nothing,” you smile, feigning innocence. You place your hands on the doorframe, as if you could block his view from inside the kitchen. “Just, um, tidying up some things. And you?”

He tilts his head to the side, clearly confused about why you’re working at this hour. His peripheral vision catches a glimpse of the kitchen behind you, with what appears to be chocolates scattered all over the counters. You seem agitated, and it’s obvious you’re lying, but he decides not to pry. He isn’t sure if he wants to confirm that you’re making chocolates for someone in the mansion.

“I came to get some tea to help me sleep now that I’ve finished work,” he replies, trying to push the thoughts of you giving chocolates to someone else out of his mind.

“Oh, I see! Sit here in the dining room, I’ll get you your tea.”

“It’s not—”

“But I want to,” you cut him short with a forced smile. “A-and… um, the kitchen is a mess, so… just sit there.” You point to the chair furthest away from the kitchen door.

“... Alright, thank you,” he complies with a shy, tiny smile, then turns to sit where you pointed.

You don’t take long to make him the tea and bring it to him, but it’s enough time for his mind to start spiraling. It’s because of Valentine’s Day, right? He’s sure it is. You’re making Valentine’s chocolates to give to someone. But who would you give them to? He only got a glimpse, but they didn’t look like hearts. Knowing you, you probably made them in the shape of something he likes — whoever he is. His heart skips a beat.

“Here it is, Isaac!” you say with a cheery voice, pulling him out of his self-deprecating thoughts.

“Ah… Thanks.” He takes the mug and stands up. You take one step back, likely to give him room to leave, but he notices when you take another step back, as if preparing to run to the kitchen door if he tries to go there. “Um, good night.”

“Good night, Isaac. Sleep tight! See you tomorrow!” You smile, and he tries to smile back, but he knows it probably came out forced.

You wait a few seconds after he leaves, just to make sure he isn’t coming back, then rush back to the kitchen. Finishing the last chocolates, you admire them again for a few seconds. Sighing contentedly, you organize them inside a pretty box.

Hopefully, you’ll have enough courage to give them to him tomorrow. You haven’t thought about how you’d give them to him! Maybe you’d just sneak into his bedroom and leave them there… Not that it wouldn’t be obvious they were from you, but… Just thinking about giving them directly to him makes your heart beat faster, and you’d probably stutter and stumble over your words. Shaking your head, you decide to worry about that tomorrow. You need to clean up this whole mess quickly and go to sleep.

As you finally leave the kitchen, you pad your way back to your bedroom. Passing by Isaac’s room, you notice there is no light coming from under his door, indicating he’s already sleeping.

What you don’t know is that he’s still very much awake.

He practically raced to his bedroom after you gave him the tea, closing the door with more force than needed and leaning against it. He gulped down the tea, knowing it wouldn’t help him sleep anymore, and flopped down on his bed with his eyes closed.

He can still hear your cheery voice, trying to trick him. The voice he loves to listen to every day, and that now makes his chest hurt. He isn’t good at reading people, but he noticed you were anxious, while your voice still had a hint of happiness, probably from making chocolates for the one you love.

Oh, God…

Do you love… whoever those chocolates are for?

Of course you do, or you wouldn’t be making them in the first place!

He turns around to bury his face in his pillow, trying not to think about it. He tries to contemplate the stars, but they remind him of your eyes. He attempts to speculate about his work, but he can only think about how you smile when he tells you about something he's excited about, and how you look at him with a puzzled expression because you’re too kind to make him stop talking, even if you're not fully following what he's saying.

He groans and considers screaming into his pillow when he hears footsteps in the hallway. He stops breathing for a moment to listen better, but he's pretty sure he knows who it is, especially because they stop in front of his door for a few seconds before continuing on their way.

He wishes he could just avoid the next day entirely and wake up only next week.

xxx

For some residents, everything is the same as ever. You greet them with an excited “Happy Valentine’s Day” as soon as they set foot into the dining room, but aside from that, you have that same bright smile while you take care of everything with Sebastian.

However, some more observant ones like Arthur and Theo could tell something was off; they just couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. You seem jumpy, anxious, and nervous — and the writer loves solving a good mystery.

“Darling,” he calls for you.

You're so used to him using pet names by now that you automatically reply, “Yes, Arthur?”

“Are you giving chocolates to someone today?” For a split second, your hands freeze midway while giving Vincent his plate of pancakes, but it’s enough for the writer. “Mmm, you are! Who is it?”

“No one,” you deflect. You try really hard not to let your gaze turn to Isaac, or you know you’ll be teased even more.

“Is it one of your friends in town?” He props his elbow on the table to rest his chin on his hand. A knowing smirk spreads across Arthur’s face, but unfortunately, you don’t notice until it’s too late. “Or is it one of us here?”

You stare at your fidgety hands as if they're the most interesting thing in the world. Everyone is curious to know your answer, but most of them try to pretend they're not paying attention. You haven't said anything yet, and each passing minute makes it worse.

“Oh?” Scratch that. His amused tone is what makes things worse. “It is one of us.”

You turn your gaze to him, and you two begin what could almost be called a staring contest. It’s obvious now that everyone is waiting for your reply because suddenly the dining room is silent, and some of them are still sitting there even if they have already finished eating.

Arthur is having the time of his life, seeing how flustered you are. For him, it’s as clear as day that you'd kill him with your eyes if you could. However, that's not the impression everyone gets from you two. It was supposed to be a glare, but from Isaac’s perspective, all he can see is how your cheeks reddened, your eyes twitch ever so slightly, and how you're nervously biting your lip.

From Isaac’s perspective, this is all the answer he needs.

Swallowing a sigh, the physicist stands up and leaves the dining room in silence. He walks fast and doesn’t look back, so he doesn’t see your gaze turning to him. He leaves the mansion in a heartbeat, making his way to town.

In the dining room, the atmosphere seems to grow heavy. You don’t answer Arthur; you just turn away from him and continue your work as if nothing happened. You hear him yelp and a muffled whispering, and you don’t have to turn to know Theo hit his head and is now scolding him. You smile to yourself and head to the kitchen to help Sebastian clean up the mess from breakfast.

Hopefully, the rest of the morning passed by in a flash. Arthur searched for you with those puppy dog eyes of his to apologize for teasing you too much, but aside from that, nothing happened.

Lunch is almost ready, and you're in charge of checking with everyone if they're coming downstairs or if they'd rather have their meals in their rooms. You purposefully leave Isaac for last, trying to avoid an awkward encounter for as long as possible. As if your prayers were answered, when you knock on his door, he doesn't answer. You try once more to be sure, but you're met with total silence.

You try the doorknob, and it's unlocked. Peeking carefully inside, you notice it’s empty. He probably went out after breakfast and hasn’t returned yet. Frowning, you start to worry about where he could've gone on a Valentine's Day morning. You shake your head to shoo away the stupid thoughts that try to plague your mind. Instead, you start to see an opportunity: you can just sneak his chocolates into his room while he’s away!

Running back to your bedroom, you snatch the box and rush back to Isaac’s. You close the door behind you, just in case someone passes by while you’re there. You quickly decide to leave it on his desk so he can see it clearly when he enters the room. You’re about to place the chocolates over a stack of papers when something catches your attention.

Is that… your name?

Frowning, you keep the chocolates in your hand to look at what’s written. You know you shouldn’t; your mind is buzzing with alert signs that you shouldn’t, but you do it anyway. It seems like a draft of a letter… for you. Quickly scanning the page, you see your name is at the top, with sentences crossed out in a way that indicates they were nervously erased, and Isaac’s name is at the bottom. Above his name, even if it’s crossed out too, you can read the words: “your most loving servant”.

“What?” you ask out loud, blinking as if it would help you process what you just read.

Before you have the time to read everything, though, the door opens, startling you. You jump out of your skin and let out a yelp, turning around. There, frozen while still holding the doorknob in a death grip, is Isaac.

He had gone to town after leaving the mansion, in an attempt to clear his mind. But it was hell. Everywhere he looked, there was a happy couple. Florists, chocolatiers, perfumeries… Every store was decorated to celebrate Valentine’s Day. And everything reminded him of you. Growing tired of suffering there alone, he decided to come back to the mansion. He would still be alone, but at least he could suffer in silence, in the comfort of his own bedroom.

As soon as his brain processes your presence, his eyes widen as if he saw a ghost, his face paling. His gaze meets yours, your red cheeks, your wide eyes… and then it turns to his desk. He doesn’t even bother to close the door; he just walks in your direction, the panic taking over his features.

“W-w-what are you doing here? W-what…”

“I’m sorry!” you try to reply. “I-I just… I wanted…”

He stopped in front of you and grabbed the stack of papers from his desk with force. You're startled by his demeanor. Isaac is usually shy and awkward, but you've never seen him lose his cool like this — not even when Arthur and Dazai gang up to tease him. Holding the papers in a tight grip, crumpling them, he looks at you with an unreadable expression, his cheeks almost purple from how hard he's blushing. You're not sure if he's panicked, angry, nervous, about to pass out, or all of them together.

You already regret your choices. You clearly disturbed him.

An awkward and uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you. You feel like crying, thinking you've screwed up everything and that he'd hate you now. You invaded his bedroom and read something you weren't supposed to!

“Before you yell at me to leave,” you mutter, looking down at the chocolate box still secured in the palm of your hands. You extend your arms to shove it into Isaac's chest, your eyes casting down, fixating on your shoes, which suddenly seem super interesting.

Isaac frowns, confused. He hadn't noticed you had something in your hands. He grabs it with the hand that isn't nervously gripping the papers. The box has a transparent part on its lid, so he can get a glimpse of the insides, and his breath hitches. He hurriedly puts the papers back on his desk again to open the package and confirm his suspicions.

Stars.

Some are the color of chocolate, while others you managed to create with white chocolate and tint them in a light pink shade, one that matches his eyes. He notices how beautifully you've arranged them over a dark cushion pad, resembling a night sky.

“I-I just… wanted to give you this,” you say with a sad smile, starting to make your way to the door to leave. “I'm so, so sorry again for invading your bedroom. I won't do this ever again.”

The physicist doesn’t know what possesses him, but he is placing the chocolates on his desk and reaching for your wrist before you can pass by his side to leave. You blink in confusion at him.

“You made this for me?” He frowns at his own stupid question. The answer is obvious, but a tiny part of his mind still believes you didn’t mean to.

You only nod.

He takes a deep breath. He can do it! Now that he knows you like him, and he hopes this is really what these chocolates mean or he’d die of embarrassment, he can try to open up.

“Have you… read this?” He points to the papers on his desk.

Your face reddens and your eyes widen. “Ah, well… Not exactly. I mean… I saw my name, and I was about to read it. But then you arrived,” you confess with a sheepish smile.

“I see,” he says, averting his gaze and starting to fiddle with his hair. You feel him squeezing the hold on your wrist ever so slightly, and then it hits you that he isn’t really mad right now. But he continues before you can say anything, “I was gonna buy you chocolates or some of your favorite flowers, and I was gonna give them to you.”

“You…”

He hums. “As a… Valentine’s gift. But then, um, this morning… I thought you liked Arthur and…” He frowns, then glances back at you. “Well, not important now. The thing is… it was— is, it is a letter for you. With my feelings. I’m sorry, I don’t have anything I planned to give to you, but I can at least tell you that I really like you.”

You’re hugging him in the next second, pressing your face into his chest. You take a deep breath and look up, unable to contain how you beam at him. With the gentlest of touches, he places his hand on your cheek and brings his face closer. You’re already closing your eyes when you hear his breath hitch, and you open them again.

“S-sorry! I… um, can I kiss you?”

You think about laughing at his question, considering you just threw yourself into his arms. But you know Isaac enough to understand he really means it, and he will wait for an answer before doing anything.

“Yes, please,” you murmur.

At first, you barely feel his lips brushing against yours, from how gentle he is. You just blink, and he has kissed you and already pulled away.

Then his lips are back on yours again, his arm locking around your waist to keep you close, and his hand sliding to the side of your neck, his warm touch sending goosebumps down your spine. You’re still hugging him around the waist, squeezing him in your embrace.

When he pulls away, he keeps his forehead against yours, his eyes peering down at you. He debates for a few seconds, but finally decides to say something that’s been bothering him.

“You know I would never yell at you, right?” he whispers, frowning. You look into his eyes, confused. “You said you were gonna leave before I yelled at you to leave. But I would never do that to you.”

“Oh... I know,” you whisper back, a soft grin playing on your lips.

“Good,” he nods.

“And I like you too.”

His eyes soften, and he closes the gap between your lips again. Arthur’s voice yelling down the hallway about how it finally happened reaches your ears, and you two look at the opened door, but can’t bring yourselves to care about it now.

You just kiss again.

And again.

And…

Masterlists

#happy valentine's day #thanks koco for being an angel and helping me!!#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp fanfics #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp isaac x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp writings

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wayfayrr · 4 months

Note

You don’t have to do this one if it’s too much!! I just simp for twi and time so hard but I don’t wanna overwhelm you, please take breaks!! Ily :’DD

Soft fruit cake w eggnog to eat in?

I hope you'll enjoy your order this evening ~

Time is one of the links I'm less confident with writing, but he's still so much fun. He's a bit of a blushy dork in this one for you. <3

[Event masterlist]

“It's kinda comforting to know that Hyrule has the same traditions as home. Some of them anyway.”

Time isn’t focused on it, it seems off for him to be acting like this, unless he was lying to me? what reason would he have to lie about something so harmless though… it’s just gifts. Why would he ever need to lie as something as a tradition?

“You don’t actually have it as a tradition, do you?”

“What, no, we do. It’s part of the winter festival here.”

“Why do you feel the need to lie over something so small?”

Red illuminates his face at that, whatever has him so embarrassed over being called out for this? It’s so different from his usual stoic self too, not a bad change, just a sudden one. It makes me want to pry into what’s causing this even more than if he did manage to keep his cool.

“You seemed so excited when talking about it. I just wanted to do it for you.”

“But why lie, why not just be honest and just do it as a new thing?”

The red grows from his cheeks to the tips of his ears now, this new bashful side only becoming more appealing the more of it I get to see. Still though, it’s such a childish thing to get so flustered over. Like he’s a little kid rather than one of the oldest links here, not even able to make eye contact with me anymore.

“Well, never mind that. It doesn’t change the fact that we’ve both gotten each other a gift right?”

“I'd still like to know why you didn’t just admit it’s not commonly done.”

“You were so- hmph.”

He’s close to cracking on the reason why he’s lying about all all of this to begin with, if I push it a little more he’ll spill I can bet. I don’t even really mind what it is, it’s only sheer curiosity making me want to learn now. What reason is enough to lie over something so small for so long?

“Time - link please, I’m not bothered or anything, I just wanna know.”

“You just seemed so excited talking about your home and I know you’ve been homesick… So I just… Wanted to make you more comfortable.”

That’s it? I can’t deny that it’s not a sweet reason, it does feel very childish though, it really is like he’s just some love struck teen. If I were to close my eyes and focus… I could probably see his young adult self still dressed in that forest green.

“While I appreciate it, you really didn’t need to go that far for something so simple. I’m honoured though… If we’re not following strict traditions though… why not just give each other gifts now?”

“That wouldn’t bother you? I thought christmas day was what you said was important.”

“The thought of it is what counts above everything else, besides if you’re so worried about the day, I don’t know if it’s passed or not back home.”

The blush is slowly fading now, his fluster dying down till he looks more like his familiar lightly stoic self. Finally moving to sit down next to me rather than over at the opposite side avoiding looking at me but not before picking up his bag. Setting himself down with a sigh and a hand running through his hair. Hyping himself up by the look of it, it makes a lot of sense why he’s so nervous now that I know it’s his first time doing anything like this. I can probably take some of that stress away by simply giving him his first, hopefully, then he’ll feel less pressure.

“Here, I got this for you at the recent village -”

His surprise is cute, I knew it’d be worth it to hand-decorate some paper to wrap it with. Even though it’s torn in a matter of seconds, anything is worth it for him.

“I saw how you were looking at it for ages - don’t worry I brought it myself and not out of the supply fund. Do you like it?”

“You… I didn’t expect it… it was so expensive.”

So getting him a cloak and the armour polish he was staring at longingly was the right idea. Wiping my savings might not have been as good, but I can earn it back fairly quickly if the others are still as bad with bets. He’s blushing a little as he passes me two neatly wrapped parcels.

“This is for you then I hope you’ll like it as much as I did.”

My breath catches in my throat as I unwrapped the first, and I’m greeted with the most beautiful leather-bound sketchbook. A quick glance at him as he gestures for me to open the other. These art supplies must have cost him so much, watercolours here are rare, all of these charcoal pencils too.

“Time you -”

“You said you missed drawing, that you wanted your own supplies. So when I saw them I knew they would be perfect… you do like them right?”

“I love them… than you so much link.”

It’s a bit of a struggle to stop myself from tearing up from how kind it was, thankfully he seems to have taken pity on me now as he cuddles up with me next to the fire. Moving me to lay against his side as we watched it crackle late into the night.

#had to scrap the taglist cause it light shadowbanned my posts :/#I thought they got deleted when I posted em #linked universe x reader #time x reader #link x reader #oot x reader #moss✦writes #fruit✦cake

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freyyzu · 11 months

Text

FIVE

a kiss for every part of you i adore. the problem is, i adore every part of you.

a/n; i'm struggling so bad with the wedding fanfic. my best friend is just watching me descend into insanity rewriting the prologue for the fourth time. i just needed to make something short and cute to fix that o(╥﹏╥)o mild (??? bland???) nsfw on number 3. i've never written nsfw before, please go easy on me. post step 4.

update after finishing; this was not as short as i intended it to be.

5. EYES.

Black and white were considered Baxter's staple colors. From his clothes, to his phone case, to his car, you could list countless more items off the top of your head that all shared those monotone hues.

Really, it'd be easier to list the items he owned that weren't greyscale.

In particular, one comes to mind—two, to be more precise. Would saying he owned them be correct? You assume so. They were a part of his person, after all.

A dark brown—they shine as bright as embers from a fire burning too hot. If you stared at them long enough you would burn, but that was a risk you were willing to take. Anything, if it meant being able to get lost within them for even a moment longer.

"Good morning," you whisper, sweeping your hand across his bangs. The strands of hair fall back into place defiantly over his eyes, much to your dismay.

They're not in their signature side-swept look; they never are in the mornings. Locks of ashy grey stick out from all corners. It splays over the pillow in some sort of abstract art, a few of the longer pieces jutting outwards to tickle your cheek.

Baxter groans, rubbing at his eyes, though only one manages to beat the morning bleariness in order to look at you. Even through the dim glow of sunlight that sneaks through the cracks of the curtains, it shines.

"Good morning," he mumbles, barely audible and coherent.

You chuckle at the sound of his voice. He might be awake now, but he wasn't quite awake just yet. The clock had yet to even strike nine.

Once more, you reach up to his hair. Instead of sweeping away his bangs, this time you push it up past his forehead.

He hums at the feeling of your hand on his skin and smiles, opting to close the one eye he'd manage to pry open before.

Such a baby, you idly think before leaning forward to press your lips onto his eyelid. His hand on your waist tightens at the contact, and you move to give the other the same treatment.

This time, both pools of endless brown open to gaze directly at you. His smile grows wider by the second, and you think that maybe, just maybe, you've found a new, sure-fire method to waking him up.

4. EARS.

There's a quirk you've noticed about Baxter that you hadn't realized before.

No, that's not exactly right. You've noticed it. The problem is it just hadn't happen enough for your suspicions to be confirmed.

You recall seeing it once. The most notable occasion being the day of Jude and Scott's wedding; when the two of you had finally reunited, made your amends, and cleared the air of five years worth of regrets.

He was so happy then his cheeks flushed a vibrant shade of coral pink all the way to the tips of his ears. And as he couldn't believe what he was hearing, his ears had twitched. It reminded you much of a kitten.

For a long while, you wondered if you'd ever see that again, and by some form of pure luck, today you did.

It was still early in the morning, or at least what Baxter would consider early. Even though he didn't need to go to the office today for work, he still had some business to take care of. The sounds of his fingers tapping against the keys of his laptop were the only noise to break through the silence of your shared apartment for the last half an hour.

In the meantime, you busied yourself in the kitchen to make breakfast (brunch is more accurate), having that morning free of any other duties.

"Baxter, breakfast is ready," you call, setting the last plate on the table.

The tapping continues.

You huff amusedly. It was one of those days again—where he got too caught up with his work and blocked out all other distractions. Usually you'd let him finish and bring the occasional cup of coffee or tea and snacks to get him through the load, but having a proper meal to start the day was important.

Cleaning your hands on a towel you amble your way over behind him on the couch, catching a peek of some e-mail exchanges. That wasn't what you were here for, though.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his neck you lean in and manage to push yourself forward enough to peck his ear.

The action apparently catches him completely off-guard, and you feel him straighten in your hold, face going completely red—it continues to travel up past his cheeks. You barely have enough time to catch the tweak of his ears before he shoots up a hand to cover the one you kissed and spins around to face you, eyes wide.

"Ah—" You raise both of your arms up in surrender, suppressing a giggle at his flustered reaction. "I'm sorry. I called you for breakfast, but you were too concentrated on your laptop to hear me."

"Oh," he breathes. At least he didn't seem angry.

Far from it.

You offer him an apologetic smile anyways. "Shall we eat?"

"Yeah," he answers, a little too quickly. His eyes dart away from yours to close his laptop. You get the feeling he didn't need to look away to do that, but just wanted an excuse not meet your eyes right now. "Let's eat."

3. NECK.

Its a cool night this evening in SoCal, but you felt as if you were sitting right next to an open flame.

Lithe arms wrap around your bare waist, pulling you in close. Without the restrictive fabric of clothing separating you from each other, you could feel Baxter's heartbeat more distinctly than ever.

It's steady, if not a little fast.

The gentle motions of your fingers massaging his scalp help it from becoming erratic, but you can feel the spike every time you tug on his hair—feel the way his breath hitches against your exposed shoulders as you pull a little harder the next time. And again on the next, and the time after that.

Lips that you're used to tracing with your own press open-mouth kisses against the side of your neck, and you tilt your head to give him more access.

"Baxter," his name leaves your mouth as a breathless whisper. You can barely stifle the moan that threatens to escape as his fingers tighten their hold on you.

When your grip on his hair tightens, you hear his groan right beside your ear. Unlike you, he doesn't try to suppress it—you're not sure if you're thankful for that or not.

When he begins to press his thigh deeper between your legs you can't restrain your voice anymore.

"Baxter," you say inbetween gulps of air. Your hands move from his head to his shoulders, gently pushing him back to lean against the couch. "Wait."

"Is there something wrong?" His eyebrows crease in worry.

You shake your head with an unsteady laugh and use this time to catch your breath. "No, nothing's wrong. It's— it felt nice, really nice. I was just wondering if I could...?"

Your hands begin to roam again, finding their new homes against the nape of his neck and the flush of his cheeks. The end of your sentence doesn't hear the light of day, but Baxter knows exactly what you're trying to ask when your eyes dart to the mole decorating his neck.

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow, frown morphing into a smirk. Even with his face bright red he would never miss a chance to tease you. Typical Baxter. "Please." He pulls you in by the shoulders until you can feel his breath once more against the lobe of your ear. His voice sends shivers down your spine. "Be my guest."

And so you oblige, pressing feather-light kisses first on his shoulder before trailing further up to his adam's apple and giving it the same treatment. You can feel it bob as he takes a large breath of air, followed by a pleased sigh. His fingers find purchase tangled in your hair, and you're acutely aware of how the roles have been reversed.

Finally, you make it to the area where his mole resides. Your hands follow your lips, one curling around his neck again to twirl strands of grey inbetween its fingers while the other traced the curve of his spine. He shudders beneath your touch.

In contrast to the gentle grazes you've given him thus far, your lips this time, nuzzle against his most sensitive spot with open mouth kisses, biting hard enough for a mark to form, but not to hurt.

"Mmn—!" he moans. His thigh jolts at the unexpected sensation, once more making contact between your legs. His hand pulls at your hair reactively, and you understand then, why he likes it so much.

"Payback for teasing me." You back away, thoroughly admiring your work, drinking in the sight of him beneath you.

Cheeks and ears flushed red, hair in disarray, a cheeky grin that for sure spelt your doom, and a faint rim of crimson that accentuates his already eye-catching mole.

Thinking back on it, you're sure this mole was the only reason you recognized him that summer of 2016. With his growth-spurt and new look, and not to mention you only having the chance to meet once beforehand, you're not sure if you would've been able to tell who he was otherwise. Not that you had to, he recognized you first.

Mindlessly, your thumb brushes against the bloom that darkens with every second passed. It doesn't hurt, you're sure of it, but Baxter appreciates the gesture all the same. Though, apparently not enough to let you linger.

Familiar fingers dip underneath your shorts, rubbing wide archs against your thighs. "Shall we continue?"

Ah, right.

You had a long night ahead of you.

2. LIPS.

"If you're feeling up for it we could take a stroll down the shore after dinner. The beach is usually empty by that time, and I'd love nothing more than to soak in the sights of a beautiful evening with you." He adds after a pause, "If you're alright with that, of course."

"I'd love to, Baxter," you answer instantly, batting away any of his worries.

For how confident your boyfriend made himself out to be to the public, you knew he still had a new dilemmas to sort through that takes time. Making sure you were happy and not feeling insecure about his choices being one of them.

"Really?" His expression lights right back up at your quick response, lips curving up into a genuinely pleased smile. "That's wonderful. I'll have to remember to bring a towel so we can dry our feet once we get back to the car. It wouldn't do well for us to drag sand back into the apartment."

Cove Holden would vehemently disagree with that statement if he were around to hear it, and you were almost inclined to bring it up yourself—being a person of the sea and whatnot.

But you don't.

The only thing on your mind is how you love hearing him so happy, love listening to the sound of his voice as he animatedly talks about even the most mundane things. You love the way the corners of his lips quirk up into a shy smile every time you compliment him and you love the way they stretch into a knowing-grin whenever he finds something new to tease you about—the way he makes it up to you with a kiss that always lasts longer than intended, and the way he says sorry without meaning an ounce of it.

Before long, those idle listings that you're so fond of hearing him talk about no longer register.

Without much thought, your hands are reaching out to cup his cheeks. Your thumb tenderly traces the outline of his jaw. No words were needed to tell him exactly what you were thinking. You were already staring at him as if you were holding the entire world in your hands.

"I'm going to kiss you now," you warn.

He chuckles amusedly, his own hand coming up to map the outline of your bottom lip, as if trying to commit the shape to memory. "What are you waiting for then?"

Nothing, really.

You waste no time leaning in, your lips fitting like puzzle pieces that were carved just to lock with each other.

It starts out slow, wanting, as if afraid you would scare one another off if you went for something more. Eventually, thoses brief pecks spiral out of your reach into something more, it's no longer a want but a need.

Despite you taking initiative, Baxter takes the lead, pulling you closer until you're practically stradling him. Your hands have moved from his cheeks to his neck, securing your place on his lap.

When you finally pull away, you're both gasping for air, eyes lidded and lungs breathless. Had your need for oxygen not won out you would have been content to kiss him all day.

Something about the look in his eyes tells you he thought the same.

1. HANDS.

One, two, three.

Spin, pull, and—dip.

The music player clicks, and the sounds of string instruments abruptly stops. The silence that follows signals the end of another song.

"You did amazing." Baxter doesn't hesitate to compliment you as soon as the dance ends. He pulls you up into a standing position, but makes no effort to let go of your clasped hands.

Even if there was no reason to hold you anymore, that didn't mean anything. You were his partner—in more ways than one—so unless you wished for him to let you go, he wasn't planning on doing so any time soon.

"It's because I have such an amazing teacher leading me," you quip back.

He narrows his eyes, smiling widely. "I don't think I can call myself your teacher anymore. At this point you've far outgrown my lessons, don't you think?"

"Not at all. There's always more to learn from a former professional. Maybe you're just holding back on me."

If it was a compliment battle you wanted, it was a compliment battle you were going to get. For the next however long, the two of you spend your downtime exchanging complimentary remarks inbetween gulps of water.

The whole time, Baxter doesn't once let go of your hand, even if it meant awkwardly untwisting the cap of his bottle between his legs. He got it eventually.

"I'm so glad my misfortune brings you joy," he jokes, setting the container down by his side.

"I offered to help," you remind him. "You're the one who denied it."

"It was a battle of pride." He pouts at you, and for a second you almost thought he was serious.

Rolling your eyes, you laugh at his childish attitude. No matter how profession he tries to make himself out to be, you knew better. Underneath all those stiff suits and fancy words he was—as Xavier once described—squishy.

You hold on tighter to his hand; they were squishy too. Or maybe soft would be a more apt description.

"Is something on your mind?" he asks, no doubt curious about the sudden pressure.

You hum, lifting your arm up until the limb was right in front of your—and his—face. Your fingers wriggle out of Baxter's grasp before entertwining with his own. He lets you do it, gladly. Your palms are both clammy from holding each other for so long, but neither of you seem to mind.

And then, as if you had done this a million times before, you bring his hand to your lips in gentle kiss, and there it remains.

The same hand that had been offered to you all those years ago at the Summer Soiree was the same hand that you're holding now.

The one that holds you close in the early mornings and refuses to let go. The one that tucks your hair behind your ear and rubs delicate circles along every part of your body. The one that cradles your cheek with so much warmth you fear that one day you're going to heat up and burn into ash all at the same time.

"I was thinking about how much I love you. All of you." Your lips brush against his skin with every word, as if hoping to physically convey the full brunt of your emotions through that one simple gesture.

"Oh."

In the time you've spent dating Baxter, there were very few instances in which you were able to catch him off-guard. This just so happen to be one of those moments.

He's at a loss for words.

Unfortunately, you don't get the opportunity to bask in it for long, and soon enough, with the same care as you gave him, Baxter kisses the back of your hand. His lips glide down to your pinkie before giving it the same treatment, and then doing the same for your other four fingers, giving them each the individual attention they deserve.

Finally, he switches his grasp to your wrist and presses one final kiss to the inside of your palm.

It tickles.

"It's funny, we were thinking of the same thing." He catches your eye, features glimmering with affection. "About how I love you. All of you."

#Our Life #Our Life: Beginnings and Always #Our Life: Beginnings & Always #Baxter Ward #Baxter Ward x MC #Baxter Ward x Reader #my eyes hurt after finishing this #not proof read im so tired #please enjoy the ramblings of someone head over heels

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cloudcountry · 1 year

Text

piggyback rides

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones!!

Summary: You're sleep deprived and try to run laps with Savanaclaw. It doesn't end well.

Author's Comments: This was half inspired by one of my friends who would run if her hip was broken. Also make sure you stay hydrated when you run kids because once I didn't and that can also make you very irritable.

~~~~~

“What was it this time?” Jack eyed you suspiciously as you yawned again, rubbing your bleary eyes.

“I was up all night bothering Leona so Grim and I could stay here.” you managed to get through that sentence before you yawned again, slumping over on the bench.

“Do you feel okay enough to do morning training?” Jack asked, glancing around at the other Savanaclaw students completing their laps.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. I won’t be able to keep up with you so you might as well just let us do our thing.” you smiled tiredly.

“Nuhuh! I don’t think so! I want to go to sleep!” Grim whined, clinging to your pant leg as you stood up.

“Come on, Grimmy. It’s just one lap for us.” you tried to pry him off, but Grim held firm.

“Come on. Stop bugging the Prefect.” Jack grumbled, reaching down and plucking Grim off of you, “They want to get running now.”

You smiled again, eyes half lidded from lack of sleep. Cradling Grim to his chest, he motioned for you to start your lap.

“I’ll be right behind you.” he tried to smile back, but quickly stopped. It probably came out more like a grimace anyway.

“Not for long you won’t.” you joked, starting to do some light stretches.

Whether you knew it or not, Jack was still going to watch over you while you ran. He didn’t trust you not to pass out, nor did he trust his dormmates to take care of you if something like that actually happened. Ignoring the squirming of the little cat monster in his arms, Jack followed your lead and began to stretch as well. You were so weird.

“Alright, here I go!” you shot him another smile before starting with a light jog, ignoring the protests of Grim.

“You want to go after them?” Jack set Grim down, never taking his eyes off of your retreating back, “Go catch up to them. I can’t be bothered to carry you while running.”

Grim looked from you to him, eyes narrowing.

“You’re so weird.” he crossed his arms—paws, “Why do you stare at them so much? It’s creepy.”

Jack exhaled quickly, turning his head to the side. He finally met Grim’s suspicious gaze with his own cold expression. Ultimately, he decided to start his own run instead of responding. He was already late to begin Spelldrive training.

You waved cheerfully when he passed you, and it was enough to have him smiling for the rest of his lap. Grim seemed to have caught up with you halfway around the track, as he was now curled around your shoulders and clinging on for dear life as you playfully sped up every now and then. Though Jack couldn’t understand it, the relationship you had with the little cat monster was wholesome. When he was just about to pass you again, he saw you stumble off to the side of the track, clutching your head. Immediately worried, he veered off to meet you, stopping right in front of you.

“You alright?” he asked, keeping his distance.

“I’m fine!” you snapped, holding Grim against your chest, “Just keep running and leave me alone. You’re always hovering over me like that and it’s annoying!”

Woah. Okay, there was definitely something wrong.

“You’re sleep deprived, aren’t you.” he stated, raising an eyebrow, “You said you were fine to run.”

“And I am!” you yawned loudly, slumping onto the sandy ground, “I just…need a breather. You can leave me alone-”

“Not in good conscience.” he interrupted, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Let me help you.”

He felt you relax almost instantly, your face shifting from annoyed to embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I’m not in my right mind right now.”

“Sleep deprivation will give you mood swings. It’s fine.” he grunted, leaning down, “Now get on my back.”

“What!?” you exclaimed, a sliver of amusement in your voice.

“You don’t expect me to carry you in my arms while I run, do you?” he huffed, an embarrassed flush coating his cheeks, “Just get on.”

It wasn’t until you relented that Jack realized Grim had fallen asleep on your shoulders, his body limp and mouth emitting soft snores as you held him. Jack shook his head at the irresponsibility of the two weirdest students NRC had had in a while.

“When you guys are back in the dorms, I’m making you take a nice, long nap.” he grumbled.

You made a soft sound of acknowledgement on his back, and when he looked back, your eyes had slipped shut.

“What am I going to do with you?” he huffed, rolling his eyes.

#auburn's fics <3 #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jack howl x reader #jack x reader #twst jack x reader #jack howl fluff

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azsazz · 2 years

Text

Truth-Teller and Soul-Stealer

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Um....I don’t want to give any thing away, so I’m not writing a summary for this one.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 6,342

Notes: Well, I said it once but I’ll say it again: TYSM for 1,000 followers! I love every second of this blog. This one is dedicated to each and every single one of you!

P.S. This is my FAVORITE fic I’ve written so far. It is immaculate. I surprised even myself :)

_________________________________________

Your body falls lax against the chair. The iron chains won’t budge as you give up trying to tear your arms free, sweat dripping down your neck into the collar of your torn shirt. The metal bites at your raw wrists: stinging, bloody, and mangled from trying to pry them off.

Their startling iciness had been part of the reason that kept you awake since you had been captured. And since there were no windows, you were unsure of just how long you’d been in there. From the utter exhaustion you felt, it had to be more than a few days.

Every time you wanted to sleep, you were jolted awake by that feeling you had become accustomed to during your time here: claws scraping against your mental shields like nails on a chalkboard, shaking you to your very core.

But you would not yield, no matter what.

Chest heaving with effort, you squint around the cell again although you’re sure you’ve looked for every possible escape, for anything that could give you leverage against your Night Court captors.

Nothing. Not a damn thing in this room that looks as if it is carved out of a mountain. You had no idea where you were, a blindfold having been tied around your eyes after a fairly equal fight, only hours after you crossed into Night Court territory.

They were quick, sending out a winged male to come capture you, an easy smile on his face when he saw you, thinking you posed no threat.

He’d clearly been wrong.

You’d been able to keep up with him, his red stones blazing bright in the night, that and the shining moon the only light. You hadn’t even had to tap into your own powers; he was so unskilled in comparison. You were so occupied blocking and countering his every move that you didn’t even notice the shadows of midnight slithering around until you were bound by blue magic.

Eyes covered and cradled to a strong chest you struggled the best you could, smirking to yourself, but tied tightly with that power rendered you useless and you swore you were up in the air, the wind whipping across your skin.

They had restrained you to a hard chair, not one whisper uttered between any of you. You refused to speak, refused to let anything into your mind. You had created such an intricate puzzle inside of there in the time you had been alive it was utterly impossible to break through your walls.

As soon as they had left you had ripped the blindfold off, the only thing you could manage to do, your wrists catching on the harsh metal, drinking in the sight of the room you were being kept in.

There wasn’t much to look at.

You had had just enough food and water to keep you alive, your stomach trying to eat itself and your throat was like a desert, tongue uncomfortably dry and heavy in your mouth. Your first form of torture.

It had been so long but so short, losing all track of time. You didn’t know if they had fed you in hours or days, when your last sip of water was. But you kept quiet and kept your mind well guarded, it would not be so easy to break you.

Examining the metal cuffs you bore, you recognized the wards carved into its shiny surface, chuckling to yourself as you read them.

Silly males.

You knew they were coming, could feel their power rumbling through the mountain like a storm, and there they were. Door opening and darkness rolling in like dark clouds, the room nearly black as you squint against it. The air is thick and damp, stifling.

It’s as if the darkness is coming from him, seeping through his pores as he enters the room, standing with wings, leathery, membranous things tucked menacingly behind him, the clawed edges arching over his head like a halo of terror. The only light comes from his blue siphons, causing his face to appear sharper, meaner.

A true angel of death.

Loud, thunderous laughter rolls in next, booming against the walls, causing you to flinch in your seat at the sound. Another of his kind, a menacing smile pulling at his mouth. He’s just as handsome as the first, muscles taut with centuries of practice. Noticing the red stones glowing in the dark room you recognize him, the one you had fought against in the woods. And you would have won, if not for the male next to him.

You would smirk if your lips weren’t cracked and bleeding, dry beyond belief. He looked exactly like the sort of male that would cry for a millennia if he were to be bested by a female in battle.

Perhaps that is why the other warrior had stepped in.

Finally, lightning embodied follows, his violet eyes nearly glowing in the dark. You can feel the power radiating off of him as he stalks casually in the door, curiously scenting your blood mixed with the tang of metal.

You can easily tell that he is the one in charge, that sly smile on his lips, silver-tongued as he says his first words to you.

“Speak.” His tone is every bit as arrogant and authoritative as he looks, standing tall and playing with the cusp of his shirt, unbuttoning the sleeves to roll them in perfect folds to his elbows, his strong tattooed forearms flexing in the light from the warriors’ siphons, the red and blue mixing to create an ominous purple the color of his eyes.

“Fuck you.”

He releases an amused puff of air. “My apologies,” he purrs, “I should have been more clear. Who are you and what are you doing on my lands?”

The two winged warriors flank you on either side – their presence noted and ignored – but your eyes stay locked on the male in charge. You keep your mouth shut, jaw set as he circles you like a predator would its prey. His dark gaze claws up and down your body, taking you all in.

“My name does not need to be learned by you,” your voice is a rasp, the threat catching in your dry throat.

“I don’t believe I gave you the option to refuse,” he responds, giving a shallow nod to the cobalt-stoned warrior. Immediately he moves in closer and you watch the ease of the male as his hand moves to his holster, plucking out his blade in one swift motion and pressing the tip of it into the vein in your throat.

It’s as if the weapon awakens in his hand, a horridly sweet song filling your ears, something you never thought you would hear again. You make to look at the weapon as best you can, carefully avoiding nicking your neck, and your breath catches. It has a stone set in the hilt, the runes engraved are the ones you’ve been searching for, and the smell hasn’t been washed away from the blood, oil, and whatever other substances have covered it throughout its time since you had last seen it.

“Where did you get that sword?” You hiss, thrashing in your seat as the three males still, sharing a look. His grip tightens around the blade though he draws it away slightly as if you’ll grab for it with your teeth. The swords song falters, screeching like you’re already too far away from its glinting metal.

“Give it back. It does not belong to you,” you fight against the restraints, standing from your seat and following the knife's path as far as you can, body leaning towards it, arms secured to the chair behind your back. The shadowmaster yields a step backwards in surprise.

The three winged males watch curiously as you yank on the restraints, full of adrenaline like when they had first brought you in. None of them hear anything other than your frantic anger as Azriel sheaths the weapon back in its rightful spot, snug against his thigh, your wild eyes following its every movement. The shadowsingers hand stays wrapped around it’s hilt protectively.

“And how would you know that it isn’t his?” Cassian dares to question first.

“Does it sing?” you cock your head to the side tauntingly as you fall back into your seat, eyebrows raised in defiance. The song is muffled now that it’s away and you can focus better on the conversation, knowing that you’ve just shown your hand to these males: that you know something about this knife that they don't seem to understand.

The shadowsinger reveals nothing, only answering your question.

“It is mine. For I was there when it was forged. It sings to me, a beautifully horrible tune,” you tell them, eyes cast to the blade tucked away once more, like just thinking about it will remove the warrior's grip and send the knife flying back to your hand where it belongs.

“What the hell are you?” he breathes, staring at you with wide eyes as your iris’ flash black as night, darkness swirling in your gaze when Azriel thumbs over the stone settled in the butt of the knife.

“I am something far worse than any of your nightmares could conjure,” you glare up at them all in turn, a slight smirk curled on your lips as a new feeling enters the room, darker and more dangerous than the High Lords, a void of darkness with no beginning and no end, shifting the world on its axis.

With half a thought it was gone and the males felt like they could breathe again. It was a darkness so cold Azriel could see his own breath when he released a surprised exhale.

__________

Cassian asks the question that they’re all thinking. “Do you think the wards will hold?”

“They’ll hold,” Rhysand replies, too quickly to be true, a pause in his step to glare at his brother before he continues his anxious strides, pacing the length of his desk with his hands clenched tightly together behind his back.

Azriel watches the city out the window, waiting for the skies to darken and crackle with the buzz of their prisoners' powers.

His hand hasn’t left the hilt of his beloved blade since they’d left you in the cell with no other parting remarks, warding the door four times over after leaving the room. No one could get in, not even Rhysand alone, the three of them needed to be there together to unlock the wards and release you.

He could understand the draw Truth-Teller felt, wanting to yield to you like the blade strapped to his thigh, a beautiful, powerful, commanding female. He itched beneath the surface of his skin, something thrumming through his blood, like your power had cursed him…or awakened something within him. He pushed the thought from his mind, turning his attention to the other Illyrians.

This was a kind of power none of them had ever encountered before, as if you were the cauldron incarnate, fueled only by wreaking havoc wherever you went.

But why did you need Truth-Teller?

The tea sits untouched on the desk, his hands too shaky to even pour himself a glass after what he’d just witnessed. He didn’t think he’d be able to hold the delicate cup without spilling.

“You keep that knife away from her, Az,” Rhys demands, and for a moment he wonders if this is the only thing his High Lord could think of, “And that’s an order.”

__________

He couldn’t ignore the draw.

Azriel’s entire body itched with the need to go to the Hewn City where you were being held, not only to see if you had broken free from the heavy wards trapping you, but there was something else…a raw and indescribable feeling, like there was that untamed beast prowling beneath his skin, thrashing to get out. It roared within him and would not be silenced, no matter how hard he tried. His shoulders tense with unease.

He’d never felt like this before. It was like he was trapped again, when he was young, even though he reminded himself he wasn’t there. Would never be back there again.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling.

It almost…interested him.

Was he feeling your exact emotions? Were you still trying to get yourself undone from the cuffs biting into your wrists? He had smelled your blood, a tang unlike any fae he’d encountered before. That power was boiling deep within him, excited and angry, ready to take on whatever stood in his way.

You had awakened this within him, somehow.

And how did you know of Truth-Teller? And does the blade truly sing to you?

There were so many unanswered questions swimming through his mind that he did not dare lie in his bed. It was futile at this point, instead the shadowsinger threw open his balcony doors, inhaling a deep breath of the crisp Velaris air, not quite settling him the way your power had.

He looks down at his beloved knife, tracing the symbols carved into the handle, the metal gleaming brightly in the faelight. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your eyes flashed complete onyx, what he felt was his first breath of fresh air as your power swam through the room, a comforting, familiar hand caressing him.

It terrified him.

But even if he felt the pull to seek you out and get more information, no matter how badly he wanted to do it, he couldn’t. Not with the wards he and his brothers had put on the cell. It would take all three of them together to unlock the spell Rhys had cast, using their combined powers to secure the cell further.

Or could he?

His shadows swirled and purred in his ears, do it. It was not their usual voice, no, it was a wicked whisper of the wind from deep beneath the Hewn City, under the red rocks of the mountain, the raunchy streets of the sub-court below.

Yours.

I know you hear me, spymaster, your voice crowed. You feel it, don’t you? Your potential?

How were you doing this? He shuddered at your words, or because the beast he kept well locked down reacted to your soothing voice, calming for a moment as you spoke, and then when you stopped, it roared to be let out, to meet its old friend.

He needed to get away. Far, far, far away from you before it was too late.

__________

“This isn’t right. Az should be here,” Cassian says as he perches himself on the sofa in front of his brother’s desk, a full cup of bitter drink in his hand, the strongest they have.

“He might be part of the problem,” Rhys sighs, hating to admit it aloud. He had seen the way his spymaster looked at you with such intrigue. Could feel his brother's own power awakening within him, as he was the only other one in the room familiar with it, having had a taste of Azriel’s true powers buried beneath his skin. He saw the way his shadows skittered with excitement, twining with the invisible power that was your own coiled through the room.

It rivaled his own.

“I’m afraid of what they could become together,” Rhys shudders from his spot by the window, his own glass clenched tightly in a white-knuckled grip. He had watched Azriel flee the House of Wind hours ago, and it hadn’t sat right with him, only furthering his suspicion that he could hardly control himself. He turned slightly to glance over his shoulder with sad eyes to Cassian, abnormally silent as he took a long sip of the amber liquor in his cup.

And the brute had not been naive to it all in the cell. He had his own feelings regarding the situation, some that aligned with the thoughts of his brother. “We could use a weapon like that,” he responds eventually, his glass drained and standing from his seat to pour another, “Someone or someone’s to stop wars before they can even start.”

And Rhys wished that were true. He knows together you and the shadowsinger would have the ability to stop battles before a casualty was made, but he’s not sure of your intentions. With his court or his brother.

“You felt her power,” the hair rises on his arms at the thought of your miniscule display of your abilities. Had his father still been alive you’d be the greatest weapon in his arsenal and he would have forced you to help make him High Lord of all of the courts, and used for breeding his powerful heirs. Rhys shudders at the thought. “That is the darkest magic that I’ve ever seen. And if they teamed up...” he braces himself against his desk, eyes shining with fear, not a star in sight, “I don’t think we’d be able to stop them.”

__________

He needed to see you.

Azriel hadn’t slept in days, tossed and turned all night. Truth-Teller never farther than arms length from him as he tried to calm his mind, that thing slithering beneath his skin. His mind reeled no matter how many mind-stilling techniques he tried, no matter how far he winnowed or flew, even to complete exhaustion, he could not rest.

Was this how you were feeling? Those uncomfortable chains wrapped around your wrists, the icy metal keeping you awake? Or was it Rhys trying to tear his way into your mind? Or the pull from the knife he kept close to his side, its haunted singing still ringing in your ears?

Your whispers only aided his lack of sleep, keeping him company with promises of newfound power and strength, something that his own shadows couldn’t keep at bay.

And it wasn’t swaying him, perhaps, more like your words were driving him crazier the longer they went on with the less amount of sleep he got.

He had devised a plan to convince his brothers to take him to you, long and thought out. Azriel knew that they were weary of him, had an inkling as to what he was feeling, as meals were tense and battle plans were scarcely spoken of.

Luckily, he didn’t have to put his plan into action. Rhys and Cassian had mentioned briefly over the breakfast he barely touched that the three of them would be giving you a visit, to see if you wanted to talk more.

Azriel didn’t care about the plotting looks in their eyes, for he was finally going to get some answers of his own out of you.

__________

Choking down his meal hadn’t been easy, but with the promise of seeing you he managed.

The closer the Illyrians strode, the less constricted he felt in the confines of his own skin. His chest didn’t feel as tight and his grip on Truth-Teller relaxed, a complete opposite reaction to his brothers, who were tense as ever, shooting each other weary glances.

The three of them removed the wards and the door swung open, the darkness of your powers wafting out into the hallway, a welcome feeling for the shadowsinger as he rolled his shoulders, stretching out his wings.

He dared not speak as your gaze caught his for only a moment before settling on the knife holstered to his side. You seemed to sag with relief at the sight.

Rhysand had tried to get him to leave it above, but it wasn’t something he agreed with, countering his brother’s argument with the idea that if they brought it, you’d be more trusting in them, hopefully answering their questions.

You looked worse than the last time. It would have been obvious that you hadn’t been sleeping or eating well either, even if they hadn’t been the ones who instructed the guards to only give you what was survivable.

But your power remained as strong as ever, a comfort to the shadowsingers as his own – albeit mostly hidden within him – was soothing to you.

You watched the High Lord of the Night Court kneel to your height, drawing your attention from the weapon already singing to you, ready to use his commanding voice.

“Answer our questions and you will get a full meal.”

You scoff. You had gone much longer with much less, and you’d spit at his feet if you could, instead, letting more of your power leak out, a warning not to offend you again.

“Your little display of power does not bother me,” Rhys muses, that irritating smirk appearing on his face as he stands to his full height, brushing out the wrinkles in his trousers, “Especially since you are still tethered to a simple house chair.”

“If I am still chained,” you counter, purring up at the high lord, “It is not because of your doing.”

A loaded admission from you, your eyes feline as his spine straightens. If it isn’t his powers keeping you where you were then what could it be?

It’s as if they all realize it at once, two pairs of eyes looking at their brother, who has stayed too silent and still. His cobalt siphons flare in defense, his grip once again white-knuckled on his weapon as you release a dry chuckle.

__________

“She deserves to be under the prison.”

The shadowsinger stills at his brother's words and it’s all he can do not to growl in protest. His shadows thicken, curling tighter around himself as his eyes meet the shining violet of his High Lord, the threat in his tone as clear as the starless night in his eyes.

His natural response shocked even himself, as Rhys watched his spymaster's stoic hazel eyes flicker with hatred, a shadow slinking up to his ear with a whisper of something that couldn’t be heard.

Azriel didn’t react, holding the gaze of his brother as your message was delivered, a murmur in his ear, a silky invitation, Come to me, shadowsinger, and I shall show you what you truly are.

Even Cassian tensed, stepping slightly in front of Rhys, as if Az was the enemy, ready to protect his High Lord. It shook something within the shadowsinger. Not once in his entire existence had he seen his brothers look at him like this, untrusting and ready to stop him by any means necessary.

It hurt, he could admit that to himself.

“She could help us.”

“Help us how, Azriel?” Rhysand explodes, his power rumbling through the house, rattling the paintings on the walls. The window panes shake, a half-full teacup spills over the edge of his desk, the ruddy liquid seeping into the floorboards. “You’ve seen her, heard her speak, threaten my court, and you think she’s willing to help us? Do not be so blind, brother.”

Azriel stiffens at the clear distrust in his High Lord’s eyes. His brothers had always trusted him, and had always given him room to speak. Disagreeing was rare for the three Illyrians, and it was shaken off easily (or after a long brawl) had they not agreed. He can feel his shadows winding around his hands, hiding his curled fists. A quick glance at Cassian – who is avoiding his eyes – is enough.

He wasn’t trying to defend you, no, it seemed as though your powers were enough to level all of the Night Court if you wished. Azriel had simply meant that if they could get you to trust them, it might play well in their favor. Maybe you could teach him about the simmering power locked inside of him, ready to be unleashed.

He would show them that you were not what your powers demonstrated.

And Rhys can see it in the shadowsingers raging hazel eyes, the urge to prove him wrong. He regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. He’d never spoken to Azriel like that, either one of them, and Cassian now looked torn, wanting to hear the blue siphoned brother out, but sticking by his High Lord’s side, as he vowed to do.

“Az,” Rhys starts, like he’s trying to calm a wild animal, his voice a soothing mask of silky dusk that only ruffles his brother further. He needs to disarm the Illyrian in front of him and ward the knife before things could really go south. But the spymaster's mind is made up, “Give me the knife.”

Now.

His shadows swirl around him, a tornado of darkness that carries him to you, to the cells of the Hewn City. As soon as he appears, heavy magic in the air secures the wards you’d been preparing, chained or not. He strides quickly to the prison you are in, the mountain thrumming with Rhysand’s power, raging against your own.

Azriel can’t stop himself, too overwhelmed with betrayal from his brothers and the intrigue of the female behind the door, what his abilities could become.

The magic surrounding your cell doors is beyond something he’d ever conjured himself, remembering that utter drain he felt as he and his brothers locked you inside. He placed his hands against the thick invisible wards, his mind spinning, trying to figure out how he’d be able to set you free.

What do I do?

You release the beast.

His heart races as he thinks of what he’s about to do. He’s already betrayed his High Lord, worse yet, his brothers, by coming down here to help you escape. He’s never felt so selfish, the curiosity of your promises getting the best of him, your cool caress of smooth darkness, a lullaby in his ear.

Shutting his eyes he takes a shaky breath, and when he opens them he is already changed. Azriel stares down at the siphons on the back of each of his hands, gleaming with contained power. Seven of them he has, and not all of them can tame the thing prowling beneath his skin.

Why do you think they gave you those stones? You question mockingly, sensing his hesitation. Because they are afraid of what you are.

The two stones clang to the floor, each one a kiss goodbye. To Rhys, to Cassian. Another, from his left shoulder, the Night Court, the right, the Hewn City. Each one he rips away from his armor feels like a breath of fresh air. He can feel his powers surging already, and he wonders why they had made him contain these wonderful gifts with the blue gems.

Rhys’ own abilities are cracking through your wards, not quickly enough for it to matter, as Azriel only has one siphon left to rid himself of, the one placed in the center of his chest.

The last kiss goodbye of the stone is for you, his scarred fingers ripping the jewel harshly from its home, a war cry as it clangs to the ground with the rest of them.

It’s like the world stills but he does not notice as he is surging with newfound power, confused and amazed and scared. His eyes are wild as he looks between the cobalt gems laying dark on the dusty ground. He could pick them back up if he wanted, put them back on, help Rhys undo the wards you’ve created to keep them out.

But the pull in his chest from the other side of the door is too great. He has to see what could come from this.

Azriel places his hands on the door once more, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He aims the energy coursing through his veins and it shoots from his hands. The doors burst open like a paper split in two, splintering and revealing you sitting in your chair, a wicked grin on your lips.

“Welcome, shadowsinger,” you greet, and his eyes gleam with excitement, his own smile razor sharp as he steps in fully, stopping in front of you. Looking up at him, standing taller, more confident, his shadows perched behind him, better controlled by the unleashed power. He is every bit of death incarnate, a truly beautiful male getting on his knees in front of you.

You could get used to this.

“How do you feel?”

Your voice is softer than he anticipated from the venomous tones he’d heard since you’d been captured. This, a seemingly genuine question. He gazes at you for a long moment, eyebrows furrowed. He can feel Rhys’ power, Cassian’s, Feyre’s, and Amren’s too, as they all try to undo your strong spell.

And you look breathtaking to him, as if you have nothing but all of the time in the world, bloodied wrists and chapped lips, four powerful beings using their magic against yours is easy for you to handle. And he truly sees what he can become with a little help from you.

“Show me what this is,” he nearly begs, staring down at his marred hands, dark mist like black flame sprouting from his fingertips.

You hush him, “The knife,” you tell him softly, “Use it to release me.”

He nods numbly, removing the knife slowly from its holster at his side. The gleaming blade sings once more, crying to be in your possession.

Truth-Teller feels all wrong in his hands, like his newly released power didn’t match the one coursing through the weapon. For the first time, he doesn’t want the knife anywhere near him.

Azriel grits his teeth as he works, tempted to surrender the blade to you immediately, let you get yourself out. But he bears the strange feeling, his hands moving like he’s done this exact thing before, helping you out of the chains.

He recognizes the runes carved into the cuffs though he hadn’t when they’d first locked you up.

“It is an ancient magic,” was all Amren had said, “impossible to get off.”

But here they were, the metal melting like ice against the sharp edge of his knife. He watched in the most fascinated way, your smile growing wider and wider the closer you got to your freedom.

You were sure he was going to be a tough one to crack, but when you had seen him for the first time, haunted eyes and trapping his true self deep within, you knew it would be easy to convince the shadowsinger to join you.

You hiss at your free wrists, dried blood coating them and sore from your constant tearing.

In spite of that you are free, he’s freed you, and you can’t help but grin, holding out your hand to him in a silent offer.

Azriel looks at it for a moment, then into your entrapping eyes, shining with welcome, a soft smile on your pretty pink lips.

He swears he can hear the screams of his family on the other side of the wards, feel Rhysand in his head, like he’s running full speed and throwing all of his strength behind his shoulder as he tries to break through the barriers of his mind.

If he does this, there is really no going back.

His fingers slide between yours, his ragged skin soft and tentative. He releases a quiet breath, everything about this feels as it should – better even – like he’s finally found home as his grip tightens on yours. You give his hand a gentle squeeze and a nod of your head, reassuring him that he’s doing the right thing.

__________

Winnowing felt different with you. For Azriel, it had always been his shadows carrying him, slipping through the realms of time on a twilight cast breeze. But this…he could feel your power in his own heart, and moving across lands with you was like riding on a wave of midnight.

“Where are we?” he breathes into the pitch darkness.

“Somewhere between worlds,” you respond, voice echoing off of what he doesn’t know, he can’t see a thing no matter how hard he squints. His hand clutches yours tighter as you begin to walk, stumbling behind you. “Somewhere safe.”

“Safe?” he questions, his stomach coiling with unease as he follows you blindly, his free hand clutching Truth-Teller tightly, its stone not even shining a tiniest amount of light.

He can’t even see his shadows, feel them slide against his skin and his heart stammers, wondering if they are lost.

But not once does the thought that you could be betraying him, taking him somewhere to kill him, cross his mind. He trusts you. Fully and completely.

“We won’t be here long,” you murmur in the darkness. You can feel his presence behind you, towering over you, running a gentle thumb across his scarred skin. It feels like you are caressing his bones, his soul, and it causes the shadowsinger to shudder, his wings flaring out, a release of pent up magic.

He doesn’t speak again, your touch grounding and confident as you stalk through this new realm.

Azriel doesn’t know how long the two of you have been walking for but his power has seemed to level slightly, and the void of black is making him too relaxed. He hasn’t slept in days, and he shuts his eyes, feeling like he could fall into sleep in the next step.

Until he hears it.

His hazel eyes shoot open, zeroing in on the first source of light since you’d arrived. It’s not far off now, the glowing pool of white that grows brighter and brighter the nearer you get.

But it’s the sound that has him picking up his pace slightly, tugging you further until the both of you are in a flat out run, his wings itching for him to take flight.

It’s a glorious harmony, a sweet song, one he hasn’t heard in a long long time, calling him home.

And it’s too dim for him to see the dark light spilling from Truth-Teller, still held in a tight grip by his side.

He looks to you as the both of you halt in front of the glowing pool of clear blue waters. Peering into the pond, his eyes catch on what is giving the liquid its glow.

He cannot believe it, sucking in a sharp breath and looking at you with wide eyes. You can only beam at him, as he seems to finally be putting the pieces he can back together.

“What is that?” he whispers in awe.

“Why do you think you feel so connected to it? To the blade in your hand and the one at the bottom of the pool.” You ask, ignoring his question, his hazel eyes never leaving yours. “It is because you and I are made of it.”

He tries to catch you as you let yourself fall backwards into the pool, his fingers unable to grasp onto the fabric of your shirt. He’s frozen to his spot as he watches you through the clear pond, diving deeper and deeper to retrieve the weapon lying on the floor of the water for safety.

You’ve done this before, when you had created this place for yourself, to keep the weapon safe. You couldn’t stand the tune of its singing, like a grating voice, a constant from where it was strapped across your back.

You understood that the fae you were traveling to were aware of the weapon, about its counterpart kept by the spymaster. If you were to bring the twin sword with you, you’re sure it wouldn’t have been pretty.

Wrapping your hand around the sword's heavy hilt, you push up from the bottom of the pool, shooting straight upwards. When you break the surface Azriel’s hand wraps around your arm, hauling you out of the water.

And you release his hand as he kneels in front of you once more, head bowed as he holds Truth–Teller up to you, resting in both of his palms. You grin widely, the blade's own voice harmonizes with the weapon in your hand, crowing a sultry melody.

Together at last.

“You remember it, don’t you?” you ask softly, and his head turns up to look at you. He’s gorgeous in the white light emitting from the sword, all sharp angles and bright eyes. The black glow from the blade in his own hands casting perfect shadows across his face.

And he doesn’t remember it, but he stands as you offer him the sword calling out to him. His gaze flicks from the hilt of the saber to yours, swallowing harshly like he can’t quite believe what is real. In your hands, the twin to his own knife–

“Gwydion?”

“Soul–Stealer,” you confirm the weapon's nickname with a nod.

His hand lands on the handle of the ancient sword at the same time yours touches Truth–Tellers and it’s as if time goes completely still. His eyes glow hot white and yours surge with black as the power of the weapons and yourselves all become one once more.

The magic rushing between all of you, conduits for the cauldron itself, doesn’t hurt in the slightest. It’s the easiest he’s ever breathed, most relaxed he’d ever been, beaming at you with the widest grin he’s ever smiled.

He feels good.

He twirls the sword around once, a familiar weight in his scarred hand.

And all this time when he had been feeling like something had been missing from him his entire life, but he wouldn’t dare speak a word to his family, who would think him crazy for such a thing. But the darkness shifted, filled when they had brought you in, and now, with this weapon in his hand, shining brightly and chirping a serene melody, he realizes that it is you, and always has been.

Your voice is that of his blades, and his low chorus singing true from Truth-Teller, the void is full.

He looks to you, eyes brimming with unshed tears, a wobbly smile on his face, waiting for you to continue.

And all you can do is give him a look of understanding, a real smile, and a playful tug on that bond as you speak, “Different bodies, different lives, but we were together.”

#Azriel #az #azriel/reader #azriel x reader #acotar #acomar #acowar #acomaf #shadowsinger #spymaster #azsazz #truth-teller #cassian #rhysand

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 years

Text

daisy, chapter three

A/N: dude... I am unwell after writing this... I am lightheaded. I am screaming. holy fucking shit. I have no words, no words, this is just uunghhhhhh 😵‍💫

summary: the one with the diary incident

warnings: private school!reader, perv!steve, smut, kissing, stealing underwear, male masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, mentions of improvised sex toy

word count: 2529

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“…hamate, triquetrum, pisiform, lunate and this last one is called scaphoid,” you said as your finger nervously danced over the root of Steve’s palm, recalling the names of all the bones there because apparently, that had been the most logical thing for your brain to distract you with when handholding turned into a butterfly inducing comparison of yours and his hands, but mostly just you drooling over his, clenching your thighs together every time he tried to aid your inspection by wiggling his fingers or something that would make the prominent veins pop and dance.

“Good to know,” Steve ducked his head down, waiting for you to meet his eyes again. Your sudden waterfall of an anatomy lesson came out of the blue, but he didn’t seem to mind, especially not when you blushed like that. “You are gonna be such a good doctor. Like, I don’t wanna get sick or hurt, but I would give my right arm for you to be my doctor.”

“Oh yeah?” your eyes finally flickered up to meet his, “your right arm?”

His infectious grin almost immediately rubbed off on you, “yeah.”

“That’s quite a sacrifice.”

“What can I say, I love you,” he leaned in and gave your lips a soft peck, “and it would also be super hot,” gently resting his palm on one of your crisscrossed knees, the tips of his fingers played lightly with the bottom of your pastel dress.

The giggle that bubbled out of you didn’t stop him from kissing you. He simply kept it up till your amusement died down and you melted into him completely.

When the phone suddenly started ringing from down the hallway, it took the two of you a surprising amount of time to detach long enough for you to go answer it.

“Hello?” you glanced over your shoulder to where you could still see Steve exactly where you’d abandoned him. Previously just sitting comfortably on the bed, he now fell back dramatically and melted into the mattress.

“Hi honey,” your mother’s voice rang loud and clear in your ear,

“Oh, hey mom!” you fiddle with curly cord, wrapping it around your finger, “what’s up?”

“So, I’m gonna be home a little later than I thought, and you know how the Robinsons asked us to water their plants while they’re away on vacation?”

“Yeah,” you recalled how your mom had been running over to your neighbour's house every day for nearly a week now.

“Well, I forgot to do it this morning, so do you think you could do it for me?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, wonderful! Thank you so much,” she cheered, “the key is under the mat, and they’ve hung a pretty specific guide on the fridge.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight, bye.”

Hanging up, you called out before you reached your room again, “hey Steve, I gotta go for a second, okay?”

“What?” he sat up, “why?”

“I just gotta go water the neighbour's plants.”

“Seriously?” his fingers reached for you as soon as you were close enough, “can’t you just do it later?”

“No,” you tried to pry him off of you, “I wanna do it before you and your big, brown, sparkling eyes make me forget.”

Letting go, he leaned back and smirked, “my big sparkling eyes?”

“Just, shut up. I’ll be right back.”

Earlier today, Steve had managed to sneak up and scare you. Tickled your sides till you begged for mercy. Now, it would just be plain dumb if you didn’t take this as an excuse for a little payback.

Sneaking back into the house, you crept your way down the hallway, weary of the creaky floorboards you knew all too well.

You couldn’t wait to see his face. Oh, it had been way too long since you’d given him a good scare, you always had a way of giving your presence away before you could manage to actually scare him. But not this time. This time he wouldn’t see you coming.

Your bedroom door was still ajar, a sliver of light painted the hallway as you snuck up and carefully pushed it open just a tad more to get an inkling of where in the room he was.

There he stood, leaning over your vanity, and completely enthralled in a book that laid there. But there was something else, something that made it impossible for you to move any further. His right arm was moving and, in the reflection, you caught sight of just how far it was jammed down the front of his jeans.

Taking a seat on the small stool, you heard the sound of him tugging down his zipper. Skimming a long finger over the pages, it was now that you recognised what book it was. The bright pink cover was noticeable even from across the room. That was your diary. He was reading your diary. Or, it was pretty clear that he wasn’t just reading it…

A moan filled the room and your felt your nails dig into the wooden door frame. You could still see his face in the mirror. Heavy lids and his mouth hung agape as he reread the same entry over and over again.

Pausing for a moment, he reached over into the hamper to the side and snatched up a pair of dirty panties from the very top of the pile. Weaving his fingers through the cotton, he raised the floral material up to his face and inhaled deeply, letting his eye flutter shut, just for a moment.

“Fuck,” he groaned, lowering the fabric down towards his obscured length and no doubt enveloping his cock in your pretty little underwear, wrapping himself up in your musk and fucking into the closest thing he could find to your cunt.

Within a short amount of time, his vulgar noises became louder, and his face contorted.

And there you still stood, just frozen in place. Throbbing, but frozen. Just watching him regain his breath as you tried to regain your own.

Finally looking up, he discovered you in the reflection, staring back at him.

“Ace, I-… how long have you been standing there?”

Watching as he quickly tugged himself away, you also noticed the attempt at being subtle, hiding the cum covered underwear in his pocket.

You didn’t know what to ask first. Are you reading my diary or did you just cum reading it?

“Is that my diary?” you forced your jelly-like legs to move, stepping into the room.

Turning around in the chair, he faced you, looking like he was ready for you to slap him at any moment, “yes…”

“Did you just-”

“Yeah…”

“Oh…” not trusting your legs, you sat down on the bed, face surely completely crimson by now, “w-why? did me writing about how much I hate my teacher really do it for you?”

“That wasn’t the part I was reading… it, um… it was something about a dream…” his tone sounded searching, hoping that you’d remember, “I was apparently in it.”

“Which one?” you wrote most of your vivid dreams down in that book, “I’ve known you forever, it’s not that unusual for you to pop into one of my dreams…”

“It was dated sometime last month?” he then added as if he was trying to lighten the news, “it was a very nice dream…”

Last month… what dream did you have last month that could possibly have prompted him to do that?

“Oh my god,” it suddenly hit you and your hands shot up to cover your face, “oh my god!” it felt like you had a fever from the way your face was burning up, “I can’t believe you read that!”

“I did,” how could he sound so calm in all of this? Was he smiling? It sounded like he was smiling, “and I really liked it. Obviously.”

“God, I’m so embarrassed…”

The idea of just covering yourself up underneath all of your blankets till he eventually left was sadly crushed when you felt the mattress dip beside you, “If it makes you feel better,” he scooted in a little closer, “need I remind you what you just walked in on me doing? You actually saw me getting off and I just read about you doing it.”

That entry hadn’t just been a description of the relatively tame wet dream you’d had, but also how you hadn’t been able to cum fast enough after waking up from it.

“Yeah, no, that doesn’t really help me right now.”

Feeling his fingers wrap around your wrists, he gently dragged them down. All you could see was him. Just him and his gentle smile.

Relaxing slightly under his gaze, some of the flustered nature still didn’t seem to wanna disappear just yet. Your breathing hadn’t returned to normal yet, and Steve’s fingers tickled slightly against your thighs that were, unbeknownst to you, rubbing together in search of release.

Tugging a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his bold words hit you like a truck, “could you show me?”

“What?”

“Show me how you make yourself cum?” you felt his fingers lightly play with your hair.

“What,” you swallowed hard, “l-like right now?”

“Right here, right now.”

“Really?”

“You saw mine, I wanna see yours.”

“But you read about it,” you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to hinder the growing smirk.

“I know,” he smiled, obviously thinking back to what he had just read about, “but I wanna see it.” It then clicked what it actually was that he was asking you to do and averted his gaze, “I’m sorry… it’s okay if you don’t want to. We don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.”

Taking a moment to truly think about it without his hypnotising gaze fixed upon you, you spoke up softly, “… I want to…”

Looking up at you in slight surprise, “yeah?”

“Yeah…” his lips quickly found yours in a heated kiss. Feeling slightly lightheaded, you twisted your face just enough to squeak out, “but, I don’t know,” fearing that the teaspoon-sized amount of courage you possessed wasn’t enough to get you over the finish line, “it’s just weird with you here…”

“Well,” placing a few more soft pecks upon your blushing skin, slowly making their way down your neck, “maybe I could help you… would you like that?”

“Yes,” you shuttered, practically feeling yourself drip at his offer.

Climbing back behind you, he encouraged your body to lean back against his chest. Letting your eyes flutter closed, you nearly felt drunk in his warm embrace. Running his palms down your arms, he left millions of goosebumps in his wake, till he reached your hands, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Tell me about the dream, ace,” his voice in your ear made you instinctually raise a shoulder up, rubbing the shiver away.

“But you just read about it…” your hips rolled down into the mattress as he started to move your interlocked hands over your skin, quickly locating your boobs.

“Please?” he nipped your neck, “for me?”

“We, um,” your breath was heavy as he set to decorate your neck with lavender marks, “were laying on a couch…”

“Mhm,” his voice vibrated against your skin.

“And we were kissing…”

“Yeah?” he closed his own and therefore making your own hands squeeze your tingly tits.

“And that’s kinda it… we just made out…” you couldn’t help but feel foolish that such a comparatively mild dream had had such great power over you.

“And that was all you needed, huh?” he redirected your right hand down further south, “just a little dream of us kissing and you cream your pretty little panties?” you saw him hook a long finger over yours to hike up your dress.

“I, um…” you watched as both of your hands disappeared under the waistband of your underwear. Your left hand flexed under his own, catching your hard nipple between your fingers.

His hands were glued to yours. He was controlling every single move, but it was still your hands that touched you, not his.

Circling the tips of your fingers over your clit, he pressed down hard. “You just couldn’t stop yourself, could you? If the thought of me simply kissing you makes you do that, then just imagine what you’d do if something more had happened…”

Dipping down to catch some of the abundant arousal that leaked out of you, you almost felt embarrassed about how soaked you were. That show had clearly done more than you’d thought.

“Fuck ace,” you could feel his hard on poking your lower back, “is what you wrote really what happened?” you nodded your head under his chin, “did you really fuck yourself with the handle of your hairbrush?”

It hadn’t been the first time… some days, your mind just wouldn’t quit till you had something remotely phallic in your present and that smooth end often did the trick.

“Y-yeah…”

Practically puppeteering your hand, he made you dip your middle finger down to tickle your buzzing entrance.

“You dirty little girl… fucking yourself with a hairbrush just because you were so desperate for my cock, huh? Is that why you did it? You wanted your best friend to come and fill you up?” he pushed your finger inside, little by little.

Throwing your head back into his chest, your eye caught sight of your reflection in the vanity mirror. Steve’s eyes were transfixed, watching closely over your shoulder at exactly what he did to you. Ogling the way both of your hands moved, entangled underneath your underwear, making the cotton bulge out.

“Yeah, does this feel good? You want more?” you moaned in response, “do you want me to go get your precious little brush?”

“N-no.”

“No? Then what do you want, huh?” he was practically drooling on your neck, “Is it me? Do you want me? You want this?” he slipped his own long finger in beside yours. “Is that what you want, huh?” the way he moved it beside yours produced the lewdest of squelching noises, “does our fingers feel good? Together in your sweet little pussy, baby? Do they feel better than that hairbrush?”

“Yes! Fuck, Steve-” your thighs quivered, and you writhed to try and bury your face.

“That’s it,” he took over most of the movements when the pleasure that his gave you made you forsake your own. Wrenching your left hand free, you clutched onto his forearm, feeling the muscles tense and flex at just how insistent his movements now were. “Good girl, cum on my fingers just like you came on the brush that you tame your hair with every goddamn day.”

Your toes were curling, your whole body was writhing, and he didn’t quit till you were practically screaming.

As he withdrew his hand, he gave your puffy clit one last rub on the way out, making your hips buckle aggressively at the overstimulation.

Kissing your cheek, you saw him look into the mirror, watching your twitching and heaving body closely as he hugged you closer to his own.

“Thank you for the show, ace…”

“No,” you met his eyes in the reflection, “thank you.”

next chapter

#lea’s writing #daisy #steve harrington #perv!steve #perv!steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington hc #steve harrington series #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington drabble #perv!steve harrington x reader

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yanban-san · 1 year

Note

Binging the Eldritch Submas for that sweet sweet fluff with a dash of nervousness and not-quite-understanding-but-eager-to-learn-about-humanity monster content. 👌👌👌 That's the good stuff right there.

It's been said and written many times before that the twins tend to leak their true forms when flustered/in love/~spicy times~ happen, but could the same also be said when they're angered? Not annoyance or impatience, or "Gods not this twat again", but actual, unbridled pissed off anger.

Scenarios abound because brainrot real.

Emmet happens across a small group of onlookers while doing his rounds, curious to what caused the gathering. Lo and behold, Darling is there, dealing with a rude patron. He goes in to take care of it, but gets a front row seat to a sucker punch at Darling. He can feel his form starting to split as he not-so-gently shoves the attacker back towards the other Depot Agents, barely holding it together as he gives orders. When they leave and the gathering is ushered on their ways, he briskly leaves to the employee only areas, away from humanity's sight. Darling follows in concern, knowing that Emmets is barely held together with only force and will, and finds him cracking out of his human shape. Both travel to his office away from prying eyes, where Darling thankfully manages to convince him to not kill/erase the attacker or to not cause grevious harm, and comforts him with care and reaffirmations.

Ingo and Darling are in the tunnels for safety checks and maintinence, Darling on lights while Ingo's on the tracks. The light to their left's alright, the second one just started, when rapidly approaching footsteps catch their ears. Darling looks down in time to see a trio of troublemakers approaching before their ladder gives way with a shove. The world is alight with pain and stars in the air when they collide with the railing. When the world is clear again, they hear retreating footsteps and screams fading to the distance, and can feel the darkness surrounding them. Ingo's form is cracking, threatening to swallow the tunnel (perhaps beyond) with the little that's already out. Darling pushes up off the track, and Ingo is instantly next to them, focusing on them with the troublemakers pushed out of mind. His upper face is stuck in shadows with a few too many silver eyes, and is hugged all the same. Legs having turned to jelly, Darling is swept up by Ingo and carried down the tunnel. Reaffirmations carry down the tunnel softly as the pair travel down.

Put it under spoiler tag 'cause is long ^^

Emmet didn't bother walking, in truth. He took a step forward, and his destination became a far closer than a single mortal stride ever would take him.

An unruly passenger. Someone whose heart was overtaken by anger, over what? A train running late? A missing pass? What silly things to be so upset over.

They would have far more pressing concerns soon enough.

"…and FUCK you!"

"Please, Sir, I'm just following procedure- We can replace your pass, but I need to see your I.D-"

Oh?

The sound of your voice surprised and alarmed him- Weren't you on break?

And the way that mortal spoke to you-

"Out of my way." Emmet demanded, briskly moving towards the sound of your voice and across the clusters of customers and would-be passengers in front of him.

All that mattered was you-

"For the last fucking time, I ain't showing you shit-"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir. You're causing a disturbance-"

"Like hell I am! I'll cause as much of a disturbance as I want!"

You sighed heavily, trying your best to maintain your composure. Though to be fair- Would Emmet and Ingo even punish you if you didn't? Given how they treated you now, and especially now that you knew- Or well, sort of knew- What they were, they'd probably think it very endearing-

"…All because YOU won't do your fucking job!"

You shook your head, looking around, and barely paying attention to the insults being hurled at you- Few customers were watching, and fewer still were even in the area. You'd already called Gear Station Security, and all that was left was to wait the few minutes it would take for them to arrive. One way or another, this man wouldn't be getting a free pass, or even another ride on the train. How unfortunate. Not.

And then you heard a familiar clicking of heels. Not like the any of your coworkers walked, but a strange rhythmic, distinctive clicking- Of a man who was more like a oricorio then any human.

But who really wasn't a human at all, was he?

"Oh, Emme-!" You shouted, gesturing for him to come over- Anyone to deal with this slimeball- But your words faltered, looking at the glint of venomous ire in his eyes.

"Fucking pay attention-!"

And out of the corner of your eye, you saw the man approach- And specifically you saw his fist.

And closed your eyes, turning your head away in anticipation of the blow- That connected with your face, but far lighter than you'd thought he'd strike-

"What the- fucking-"

"Oh my. Someone isn't following proper safety procedures."

You turned to see not your attacker, but Emmet- Standing between you and the customer, holding their fist in his own hand-

Crack.

"Fucking- OW!"

The man winced, and Emmet kicked his legs out from under him- Still holding his clenched hand.

"Shut up." He continued, his voice as icy and dead as seemingly possible-

"Who the fuck-"

"I said. Shut up." Emmet repeated.

The man opened his mouth to speak- And nothing came out. His frame trembling, his eyes wide-

"Sir!"

"We're so sorry, we were responding-"

Your coworkers- And two security guards- Stopped when they saw you, lying on the ground with a slowly blooming bruise on your cheek- And their awe-inspiring Lord and Master holding down the worm had injured you.

"Em-Emmet-"

Emmet's attention lingered on the man a moment more before he shoved him backwards- Falling down to your side.

"My poor love-" "Are you alright?"

"It's- It's just a bruise, it'll heal-" You spoke carefully. If you made too light of it, they wouldn't pay attention to your words- If you made it too serious, they wouldn't be as merciful as you were trying to train them to be.

His smile was pained as his silver eyes scrutinized the blemish on your face. His hand caressed the corner of your face, squishing your cheek and making you wince. His eyes narrowed.

"You've been hurt." He remarked. Yes, you wanted to say, but that doesn't mean you need to erase this guy-

You pushed his hand away, making him flinch. "I'm fine, Emmet." You retorted. He opened his mouth to protest, but decided against it, turning his attention to the Depot Agents behind you.

"Ramses. Remove this man. He is not allowed in Gear Station. Or any station for that matter. Ever again. You three. Assist him."

Ramses nodded, and the rest of the depot agents followed his orders- And Emmet picked you up, dusting you off.

"You alright?" Ramses asked. He may not have been a particular kind Agent, but he wasn't apathetic, either- And the bruise on your cheek was turning an awful shade of reddish-brown, and rather quickly.

"I- I'm really okay, that was just a bit of a shock, really."

Emmet grabbed your shoulder tighter. His mouth split open again, but no voice came out.

"Emmet." You warned, noticing the dangerously bright glint in his slit-like pupils. His gaze turned back to you.

"Daaarling…" he pouted. "Fine. You need medical attention. Come with me."

"Wait-"

But he would not listen to your protests, and in a flurry of movement you were in the back hallways of Gear Station being lead away with your beloved, most likely towards a med station or something-

"Emmet," You began, trying to get his attention.

He kept walking, drumming his free hand against his lips- His mouth wordlessly opening and closing.

"Emmet-"

His stare intensified down the hallway, his pace picking up as he muttered to himself in a voice quite unlike the voice of Station Master Emmet. "He shouldn't be ali-"

"EMMET!" You raised your own voice, grabbing his arm with your free hand.

Emmet stopped walking, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

"…Yes?" He finally answered.

"I- …I'm okay. You already banned the guy from Gear Station, you don't need to do anything else." You explained. "I'm okay."

His grip on your hand tightened.

"But that man hurt you."

You sighed. "Y-Yes he did, but that doesn't mean he deserves death."

Emmet's head tilted away from you. "He deserves worse-"

You shook your head, squeezing his hand back. "No, he really doesn't."

You continued on. "You don't need to react so strongly, Emmet- Yes, that guy did something bad, but- He's going to suffer enough being banned from the Subway, don't you think? Look at me."

He shook his head.

"Emmet… Please look at me."

"…No."

You looked down at his hand. One, two, three… Four, five, six- Seven- fingers? Clothed like the glove, but different.

"I don't mind what you look like." You offered. "You have extra fingers on your hand right now, you know."

He tried to pull his hand away. You held on. "All that means to me is I have more hand to hold. And I'm not letting go."

You squeezed it harder. "You were really cool back there, you know."

His body relaxed. Oh?

"It was thanks to you that this bruise wasn't worse. And it was super cool how you leapt out to save me. And how you grabbed his hand. And you shut him up just by intimidating him."

The face of your beloved began turning towards you.

"I'm so glad to have such a wonderfully strong boss who works so hard to protect me."

You leaned against him. "And I'm very glad you listened to me,"

"So won't you please look at me?"

Emmet turned his face to you- His smile pursed, his eyes- Cracking. Like dried up, ancient plaster, revealing a shadowy shape underneath- His mouth came open a little bit, the maw darkened within- His sideburns giving way to feathers and fur and silky-shimmering-ribbons of white and silver. His pupils were slits, glowing with the smallest hint of light- Yet still bright enough to make the lights of the hall seem dim and dull in comparison. You grabbed his cheek, holding his face in front of you.

"L-Love," He stuttered out, as you rubbed the corners of his cracked face.

"Shh. You've done good, Emmet." You remarked, gently tracing the edge of the visible feathers- They were soft, and cool and warm and perfect to touch. Your hand shivered as you brushed them, and he closed his eyes gently and slowly, watching you the whole time.

"You did good. Thank you."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"Stay close to me," Ingo ordered. You nodded quietly and cautiously, and Ingo's arm went around your shoulders, pulling you close to him.

"We don't know what exactly is down here- You wanted to see what it might be?"

"…Yes." You nodded again, looking up at the Subway Boss. Despite the darkness, his silver eyes shone brighter than the light around you. It was frightening- The tunnels of the Subway were dark, twisting- And ever-shifting and ever-turning. Ever since you learnt the truth of your bosses, you'd learned the truth of Gear Station too- And how the tunnels were constently the subject of attacks from… Other things.

And your curiosity got the better of you.

You wanted to see these Other things, if you could. Besides, if Ingo and Emmet were as powerful as they said they were, resassuring you that you would never be hurt by those Other Things- Would it be such a problem if you wanted to encounter one? Especially with them to protect you.

Ingo wrapped his arm around you, even tighter. "I won't let you go."

You hugged him back.

The two of you walked carefully in the dark tunnels- Your footsteps clicking, yet not echoing- The light illuminating the edges of the tunnels seemed dimmed, somehow- Offset by the brightness of the fire-lights of Ingo's dear chandelure, floating around the two of you in contentment as it moved back and forth around the tunnel.

You stayed mostly silent, listening carefully as you approached the strange sound, echoing down the halls of the Subway Tunnel. It only grew louder and louder, a horrible screechy-groaning-grinding sound that reverberated in your ears and left them ringing. Ingo grabbed you harder, stepping forward- His silver eyes blinked slowly under the brim of his hat, less like a blink and more as though he were paying attention to something-

"Ah." He remarked- And you turned your head up to him, tilting your head curiously. "A T-junction is stuck, it seems. …I don't believe it's anything… Supernatural, my dear."

"You can tell all that, just from closing your eyes a second?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"…I can tell you anything I like about these tunnels, my Love." He drummed his hand along your shoulder, making you shiver. "Here, let us deal with that racket, first. It must hurt your ears."

You nodded, and the two of you approached the problem area, rounding the corner to see the T-junction beam bent out of shape, and several of the tunnel lights humming and flickering-

"Hmm." Ingo noted. "I'll handle the rail. Will you take a look at the lights?" You nodded in response, already rolling up your sleeves. The lights didn't seem to be out, but were certainly behaving strangely- No doubt due to some Joltiks having themselves a feast, you guessed.

Ingo hopped down over the railing of the maintenance trail and you settled in front of the circuit box for the lights, and- Yup, chewed through, frayed wires. Nothing a little electrical tape, and a few replacement wires, wouldn't fix, you were certain. You couldn't help but turn to Ingo while you taped some of the exposed bits up- Ever curious as to what he was doing. He looked down at the bent, twisted rail, grinding against itself, and suddenly it was engulfed in shadows- And a loud clunk and bang later, the shadows unraveled, and the rail was- Fine. Better than fine- It looked brand new.

You were about to ask him what exactly he'd done, when suddenly you heard a shuffling in the darkness of the tunnel- And you turned your head to see a large, heavy thing rapidly moving towards you- Falling on top of you. A ladder. What was a ladder doing here?

Ingo heard your yelp in surprise, and you flinched, unable to move.

"Holy shit-" "Bolt!" "Go!"

The impact never came.

"Are you alright?"

You opened your eyes nervously- The ladder that had been threatening to squish you like a wurmple was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Ingo was holding you. Tightly.

"A monster-!" "Holy fucking shit-"

You craned your neck to see the shadows of- Teens. Of course. Bolting their way up an access ladder back into a street above the tunnel, where sunlight poured down- But was blocked by a shadowy shape, reaching out into the rays, almost looking like they pulled at the light- Covering the walls and undulating like a living mass of darkness- Which is what it was, wasn't it?

"Darling?"

You turned your head to look at Ingo again- A shadowy figure dripping with darkness, with silver lights of eyes looking down at your figure. You felt the cold, smooth tentacles wrapping around your skin and cradling you tightly.

"I-I- I think I'm okay," You breathed heavily, feeling your heart beginning to settle from the shock. The shadowy figure picked you up, cradling you tightly against his chest-

"Y-You're a lot larger like this," You remarked. "All the better to protect you, my Dear." He purred back. "I would hate to think about what might have happened had you been injured…"

"Thank- Thank you, Ingo."

Your boss-turned-Sweetheart-turned-inhuman-monster cuddled you tighter. "Let us return to the safety of Gear Station… I would feel better if you were there, especially to recover…"

And off he went, carrying you- Settling back into a more human form, silvery-eyes looking at you from out of the darkness, closing the moment you made eye contact with them. "You're cute like this."

Ingo stopped for a second, the eyes shutting around him as the ones on his face widened. "W-What? What do you mean?"

"Your eyes. They're pretty. Like starlight. And your shadows, they're very comforting-" And you craned your neck, kissing him on the cheek-

"But not as comforting as having such a protective sweetheart like you around, Ingo."

"I- I-"

You almost giggled at how flustered he sounded, stuttering out words as his fingers dug into your sides where he carried you- And other hands grabbed, holding you tightly.

"That- That is, it would be- Expected, I would think-"

"Expected or not, thank you for protecting me, Love."

He took a deep breath. "Of course, My love." He gripped you even tighter- Almost painfully so. "Be a little cautious with your words," He breathed out, his voice strangely calm. "I have quite little patience when it comes to being so tormented by your affections, My dear."

You could feel a blush spreading across your face- And if there was any light left in the tunnels, you would've been able to see that Ingo had much the same across his own human features.

#Eldritch AU #Demon AU #Ingo X Reader #Emmet X Reader #Ingo/Reader #Emmet/Reader #Eldritch Submas #Submas #monster au #Seth.anon #Seth.asks

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maple-the-awesome · 2 years

Text

Home Sweet Home ||

Pairing: Husband!Matt Murdock x Wife!Reader

Words: 2,375

Overview: After a rough day spent between the courtroom and the streets of Hell's Kitchen, Matt returns home to the biggest reason to why he fights. A/N: I decided there isn't enough Matt Murdock + family fics, so I decided to write my own ;)

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Matt sighs heavily while carefully lowering himself against the door to use it as support against his aching back. Anymore he gets back pain simply by standing for too long thanks to his growing age, but getting hit in the spine by a crowbar surely doesn't help either, nor does the addition of a broken nose and numerous stinging bruises along his ribs. Needless to say, Matt has had a rough night with the earlier hours of his day not having been much better.

He should've listened to you this morning. He had woken up with a terrible migraine likely acquired from being kicked in the head too many times the previous night yet despite your pleas for him to get some rest, he stubbornly argued against the idea. He had a mountain of paperwork waiting on his desk plus jury deliberations were scheduled to finish for a case the firm's been working on for weeks; he had to go to work.

Of course, you're smart enough to know by the way his arms kept lingering around your waist that he wasn't trying to convince you, but rather himself and unfortunately for him, no matter how good he is at arguing, he can't change outcomes; the universe has been set against him from the moment he lost track of your comforting smell this morning.

It was raining heavily when he left, meaning a simple umbrella did nothing to prevent him from being soaked upon arriving at the firm. He had barely been able to stay awake for paperwork, nodding off several times before finally giving in to a coffee break, however, the pot's rusty handle decided that was the perfect moment to finally break, splashing the burning liquid all over his white shirt and suit. To make matters worse, as he tried to fruitlessly clean himself off whilst ignoring the pain, Karen had walked by to kindly remind him it was noon; an hour before needing to be at court.

Despite Karen and Foggy's attempted reassurances that it wasn't noticeable, Matt knew they were lying. Half of his shirt was stained in a way that made it look like he had tried going swimming in the muddy puddles outside; not court appropriate at all. He would've tried convincing Foggy to go on his own if not for the fact that he always has an angel on his side.

Less than twenty minutes before needing to leave, Matt had been relieved to hear your heartbeat enter the building. Luckily, your mother had been visiting when he called, allowing you time to rush over to deliver a change of clothes to your husband. He made sure to share his thanks through a deep kiss, one you would've loved to savor all day if not for the knowledge that his colleagues were around. With burning cheeks, you had to practically pry Matt off of you while shoving the suit into his arms with a bashful smile.

Thanks to you, Matt was able to make it to court on time while looking the part of a good lawyer, although regretfully, that fire of confidence and joy that you managed to light in his chest with your wishes of good luck was quickly extinguished by the jury.

Nelson and Murdock lost the trial. Despite weeks of preparation, their client was found guilty. While it's never fun to lose a trial which is bound to happen to even the greatest of lawyers, Matt felt soured by the knowledge that witnesses had lied. Seeing that the 'victim' of the case was a high standing member of society, there's no doubt in his mind that witnesses had been bought off, but alas, as much as he had hoped the jury would see past the lies he attempted to expose earlier, not everyone has advanced senses like him.

Seeing that the attorney side of his day had been nothing short of a disaster, Matt can't say he had high hopes for his evening hours spent protecting Hell's Kitchen as Daredevil; easily the roughest of his jobs. At this point in his career, he's certain criminals can just sense when it's a bad time for him. From simple days of misfortune like today to the more extreme cases such as Fisk's decision to escape jail on your wedding night which had been the truest test of Matt's forgiveness and patience.

Beaten down and exhausted, Matt stumbles through your shared apartment in his memorized path to the bedroom. He's pleased to see you're at least sleeping soundly for once. As much as he loves being tended to by the best personal nurse in New York and all the stolen kisses that come with such treatment, he feels guilty when you've obviously stayed up just for him. Besides, you need sleep now more than ever with your own body still recovering.

Biting his lip, Matt tries not to hiss in pain while peeling off his suit. Taking a few breaths, he contemplates whether he should take a shower or not. Seeing that he has more bruises than cuts, there isn't much need to unless wanting to soak his aching bones, but even then, he's just too tired at this point. Honestly, after everything that has gone wrong today, all he wants to do is to just curl into bed next to his wife, however, even that's going to have to wait it seems.

Matt knows it's coming before it even happens simply by the jump in heartbeat. He almost trips over his own feet trying to get to the crib where he's quick to gently scoop the tiny newborn into his arms. Despite being within his comfort, her cries are loud with her tiny arms flopping around wildly in frustration. As annoying as some may find the piercing sound, Matt can't fight his own adoring smile which brings a sting to his nose.

"Oh no, none of that now...Let's not wake mommy, okay princess? Mommy needs her sleep," he whispers, readjusting his daughter carefully to cradle her more closely to his bare chest which successfully turns her cries into mere whimpers,"...see? It's just daddy...Daddy's here...Nothing to be afraid of."

Too young to be fully aware of her surroundings, lil' Jackielyn Murdock shifts her head in a desperate search for food. While he may not be able to see it, Matt's sure her tongue is sticking out with a scrunched up face which is the description you've given him for whenever she gets hangry. Fortunately for her, daddy's prepared. By the time her cries begin to pick up in volume again, he's already in the kitchen fishing extra breast milk out of the fridge. A month ago he had questioned you on the possibility of having a supply so that he may feed Jackielyn himself, taking some stress off of your shoulders and allowing some good bonding time between them.

Gentle rocking does wonders to distract the baby while preparing the bottle, however, she becomes much happier once she finally gets to eat. Her little hands move up as if to grip the bottle yet hover there in the air, her fingers wiggling with no real direction; a sign of satisfaction, Matt's learned.

"There we go. All better...Guess daddy came home at the perfect time, huh?"

Matt makes his way through the room, slowly sinking down onto the couch which draws a long sigh from his lips. Just like Jackielyn getting her milk, he's equally satisfied finally being able to rest his back against something soft after such a stressful day of work.

"I heard you've been quite the handful today. Mommy said you cried and cried all afternoon. You even threw up on her when grandma was over. Is that right?...Man...Between comforting you and bringing me new clothes, I think we're going to eventually tire her out, don't you?" He chuckles, pressing a kiss to Jackielyn's forehead," too bad. She's stuck with us Murdocks for the long haul...Not that I think mommy minds. Besides, I might be in trouble some day, but who can resist something as precious as you?

"...Did you miss daddy today because I sure missed you. I missed you and mommy a lot. I guess none of us are used to me being back at work, huh?" Matt runs a knuckle over Jackielyn's chubby cheek which feels like silk. He lets his touch run up to her hair, remembering how you told him she takes after him with a fluff of brown hair tinted in red. He finds himself wishing he could see her properly, specifically that starry glimmer in her eyes you claim she has whenever looking up at him.

'Barely two months old and already a daddy's girl.'

"I wish I could stay here with you forever...both of you. It's really tempting, too, but I need to leave. I need to help make the world a safe place for you and mommy; to protect you both from any harm. You're daddy's girls. 'can't let anyone hurt either of you," there's a piercing guilt in his heart as he dwells on his own words while clearing away the excess milk that drips from the corners of her mouth.

Foggy has brought it up to Matt on several occasions: Daredevil is dangerous. Someone could hurt his family to get to him or he could be killed himself, leaving poor Jackielyn on the same road he once walked himself. At first, Matt not only listened to such concerns but lived by them. They plagued his mind, keeping him on his toes as he convinced himself to stay a single man as such would be in his best interest. Then this judgment shifted when you entered the picture.

Matt loves you; too much to protect you from Daredevil. After you entered his life, it would've been a sin to let you go. He gave you his heart, he married you, and he got you pregnant with a blessing that he was once certain he was too tainted to have. He's tied to you forever which is something he can never regret; the dangers of Daredevil can't change that.

It's selfish, he worries, after all, he feels your concern every time he comes home to you a bloodied mess, but you always assure him you understand. Even when you're angry with him, even when you get mad at his vigilante lifestyle, you understand. Sitting here now and listening to Jackielyn's heartbeat, he wonders if his daughter will grow to understand, too. He needs to keep Hell's Kitchen safe no longer for just himself or his morals, but for his family now, too. You're both the reason he still marches on even during terrible days such as this one; you're his biggest motivation.

Matt doesn't even flinch when a pair of arms fall over his shoulders, loosely wrapping around him with hands flat against his chest. Instead, his smile grows," did we wake you?"

You hum against his shoulder where your face remains hidden. While you tighten your grip just a smidge, you're cautious not to squeeze him too hard as if already knowing his injuries. Of course, at this point, you always just assume they're there," no. I woke up on my own and saw Jackielyn was gone. 'was about to panic until I saw the suit. Luckily I'm not concerned enough about Daredevil stealing my baby to call the police."

"I wouldn't be either. Word on the street is he's real good with babies."

You lift your head, smiling sleepily at the sight of your daughter. It had taken forever to get her to bed yourself. After nearly an entire day of giving you hell, she had finally passed out, but now that she's with daddy, she's drifting off with ease. Typical.

"Daddy's girl for sure...You're going to spoil her so much when she's older, aren't you?"

Matt turns his head, pressing a kiss to your cheek," of course I am."

You leave his side for a short time before returning with a damp towel from the kitchen. While your husband continues feeding your daughter, you gently dab under his nose, cleaning the dried blood before checking the rest of his body for anything else in need of tending to. Each time you make contact with his skin, he leans into your touch like a magnet with the same love-drunk look on his face as his daughter.

When Jackielyn becomes too sleepy and full to finish the rest of her bottle, Matt follows you to the bedroom where he burps her before carefully setting her back in the crib after a kiss to the cheek. By the time he reaches the bed, you're already wrapped in a bundle of blankets, opening your arms for him to join you which is an offer he gratefully accepts.

Pulling you against his chest, he keeps you locked between his strong arms so that he can immediately go to work leaving butterfly kisses against your neck. This draws a content moan from your lips, your fingers tangling themselves in his hair which is a feeling that makes him forget all about the aching of his body to focus on instead.

He takes his time leading his lips up, giving extra attention to the most sensitive part of your skin which he nibs softly before resuming sloppy kisses that trail along your jawline and finally reach the finish line to capture your own lips. Unlike earlier at the firm, you savor this deep kiss, allowing Matt to be the one who pulls away once satisfied.

His words are breathless when resting his forehead against yours," I'm gonna take the day off tomorrow."

"Will Foggy and Karen be okay with that?"

"I'm sure they can survive a day without me. Maybe I'll have you take some pictures of Jackielyn to send to Foggy just in case. You know he can't say 'no' to his niece."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll even put her in that outfit he bought her. The red one that says 'my daddy's not daredevil'," Matt chuckles, pressing his lips to yours once more which has honestly become his addiction ever since your first date years ago.

It might not always be easy balancing all the parts of Matt Murdock's life, but at least he can always look forward to being home with his little family; that'll always make every punch worth it in the end.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil #matt murdock x wife reader #Husband!Matt Murdock x Wife!Reader #dad!matt murdock

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