#he gets his wish but it’s twisted horribly and he only gets a part of his brother’s coat and not his whole brother | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harstyle · 22 days

Text

the styles' nanny: part two

Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 10.2k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex

here’s part one!

A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!

—

I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now.

I’ll see you soon,

Y/N

That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered.

Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.

Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.

It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself. Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s who’s name was Andrew.

“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?”

Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum.

“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?”

“Of course.”

As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.

But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.

He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.

He was ready to offer that to her.

—

Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.

And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.

“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”

Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.

She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.

Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.

“No.”

His eyebrow raised, “no?”

“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”

He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.

“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”

“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”

Concern warped his features.

“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”

She’d turned heads.

“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.”

She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.

“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.

The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.

“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”

“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”

In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.

“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.

As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.

“Are you driving me to my apartment?”

And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.

Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.

“Y/N, have some water.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.

He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”

She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”

“Y/N.”

That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.

“Why’d you go out drinking again?”

“Wanted to.”

“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”

“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”

Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.

Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”

“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”

It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.

The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.

It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.

“You still there, baby?”

And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.

But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.

“Yeah.”

“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”

“No, I‘m not like you.”

“Ouch.”

Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.

“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”

His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”

And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine.

“Yeah.”

“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

“Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”

She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”

Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.

“I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.

“You sure?”

“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”

And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?

For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.

“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.

She knew what.

“Nothing.”

“M’kay.”

“Stand up for me?”

Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.

As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.

“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”

He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.

He hummed, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.

“Last time what?”

He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.

He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.

Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.

What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.

She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.

—

Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.

Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”

“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”

“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”

“Probably.”

Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.

“I—“

“Are you— oh, sorry.”

“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Harry smiled, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.

“No go on, tell me.”

“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”

“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”

“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”

“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.

“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”

A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.

“Oh.”

He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.

“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.

There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.

“But you…”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t… because of yesterday?”

“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”

His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“

“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”

“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”

She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”

“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”

“Yes.”

Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”

“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”

“Enlighten me then.”

Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.

So she deflected.

“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“

“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”

“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."

Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.

“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”

“I don’t know.”

She almost laughed, “sure”

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”

“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”

“There’s nothing to consider, okay?! I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“

What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.

It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.

Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.

But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.

“Wait.”

His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”

“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.

He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.

“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”

She only nodded.

He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.

Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.

—

Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.

The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.

Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).

As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.

“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”

“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”

“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”

Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.

“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”

Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”

“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“

“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”

Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.

“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”

“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It seemed to take a minute to click. ��Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”

“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”

“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“

“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”

A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.

Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.

And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone: “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.

—

Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.

“Y/N—“

“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“

“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.

“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I know I should’ve known but it seemed real when we spoke last, you know? I didn’t think she’d do this.”

Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”

Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”

“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”

“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”

“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”

“Do you love her?”

Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.

Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.

Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.

“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”

Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.

Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It seemed instinctual, though.

When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.

“That’s… yeah. I get that.”

This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.

Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.

“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight. “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”

“Okay.”

A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”

“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”

“I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“

“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”

She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the living room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.

Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.

And yet, he was determined to keep trying.

—

Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.

The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.

This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.

“So how flexible is time for you?”

“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”

“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”

“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”

This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.

That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand—“

“No. We’re not doing that.”

“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”

“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“

“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”

And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”

“For good reason.”

“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”

“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”

Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.

“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”

“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”

He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”

“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.

“Do you have another job lined up?“

“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”

“Where?”

“A cafe.”

“Where?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you hired?”

She huffed, “no.”

“Where else?”

“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”

“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Financial help, maybe?”

Y/N groaned, “no.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“

“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“

“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“

“Can we just— can we not?”

And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts. Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.

For now, he had to be okay with this.

—

Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.

She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.

He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.

But it hadn‘t been real, had it?

It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.

Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.

But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.

Wouldn‘t he?

He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.

And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.

She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

God, she was feeling small under his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they don’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”

“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”

But she failed to move.

Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”

Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“

“Last night you what?”

“I had… I had this dream and—“

She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.

“Is this okay?”

His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”

He hummed.

“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah.”

Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat. He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder.

“Can you do my arms?”

“Of course, baby.”

She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.

And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded promptly, heart racing.

Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.

A love like his would feel so great.

“You look really beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the one who keeps running.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.

“I’m scared to stay.”

He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”

“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“

“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”

Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”

“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” he retorted.

“Past experiences have proven as much.”

He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”

“How easy it is to love you.”

Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.

“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”

Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.

And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.

When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.

—

A month later.

“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”

As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let her giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.

She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”

“You ready then?”

“Yes.”

Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.

“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”

Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.

“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Yes, they still are.”

Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”

“You said that you don’t.”

“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”

Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”

“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”

“Who?”

Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.

He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.

When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.

“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”

The silence was short lived.

He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”

“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”

“Really?”

“I do.”

This stumped her.

And now it was her turn: “wow.”

Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.

“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”

She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.

“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“

“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together—“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”

“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”

And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.

“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”

“Would he?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”

“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.

“Then move in with us.”

A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”

“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“

“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”

“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”

“I know that.”

“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”

“I need to make money somehow.”

“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”

“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”

“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“

Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”

“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.”

Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”

Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”

Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t regret it."

He'd been right.

The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it

tags:

@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl

I hope I didn’t forget anyone!

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles materlist #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x nanny #harry styles ceo #harry styles fanfic rec

404 notes · View notes

sinofwriting · 16 days

Text

Wine - Charles Leclerc

Words: 1,120 Summary: Charles wakes up to an empty bed. Note(s): Slight NSFW, Angst, I was trying to write something else and then this popped into my brain. So everyone say thank you Sin’s brain, now please write what you actually were supposed to write.

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration

He wakes to an empty bed and the good mood that the restful sleep had put him in is gone, replaced with confusion. Charles always woke up first. He could count on one hand in the three years they had been dating when she had woken up before him. This was the fourth time.

Getting up, he lets out a groan as he stretches. A yawn that nearly makes his jaw pop escapes him as he moves out of the bedroom, journeying to find where his girlfriend is.

“Baby,” he whines and she jumps at the sound of his voice. “You aren’t in bed.” She doesn’t say anything and he frowns, coming closer and his heart stops as his eyes adjust and focus on her, her face stained with tears, lip trembling. “Oh, baby. What happened?” He breathes, kneeling on the carpet in front of her. “I,” She starts, only for the tears to start falling again. His stomach twists. “It’s okay.” She shakes her head. “Cha,” she pauses, swallowing thickly. “I’m pregnant.”

He stares at her with wide eyes, the joy he is supposed to hear at those words unable to form at the sight of her tears and downtrodden expression. Instead, it’s pain, heartbreaking pain. It comes and hits him so fast that tears sprang to his eyes.

Those words were supposed to be said with happy disbelief. Maybe after he watched her pee on a stick or as they sat in a doctor's office, or him coming home to her and she’s unable to not stop herself from saying it before anything else. They aren’t supposed to be said like this.

And god, he wanted kids, she wanted kids, they wanted kids, didn’t they? When they got together, when they got serious, they talked about it. About wanting kids. About him wanting three, about her not wanting more than that because Monaco was just too small to raise more than that in. Had that changed for her? Had it changed her and she just never said? Had he not noticed? Had he mistaken the longing look in her eyes when they met Chiara? Had it actually been disgust? Had they not come home and she demanded him to try and fuck a baby into her, despite her birth control? Had they not in the afterglow talked about babies, the names they liked, the crib she was and liked?

“Are we,” He clears his throat, taking a deep breath. “Are you upset about it?” She nods quickly and a few tears slip from his eyes. “Charles.” Her voice breaks around his name. “We had wine last night, I drank wine last night. What if,” she’s sobbing now. “What if it hurt the baby?” Horrible relief fills him and he’s gathering in his arms, tears spilling down his face as he presses kisses to her head. “No.” He breathes. “No, it will be okay, mon amour. I’ll get you an appointment with the doctor today, yeah? Make sure that they are okay?” She nods, sniffling. “Okay.”

He doesn’t know how long he holds her for before he can finally let her go a little bit.

“Hi, baby.” He whispers, wiping away the tear tracks on her face with his fingers. “Hi Cha.” He smiles at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Can you tell me again?” He asks, voice still a whisper. “Can you, please?” She looks at him, a smile on her face for the first time this morning. “Cha, I’m pregnant.” His eyes close at the words, lips forming a grin. The joy that he hadn’t been able to feel early, coursing through him.

“I’m so happy.” He breathes hours later when they are in bed, back from the doctors that had told them the baby was okay, nothing to worry about as she was only ten weeks along. She beams at him, fingers dancing over his pecs as she straddles his lower stomach. “It is good news.” “The best.”

He privately wishes she had his ring on her finger and his last name, but that could happen next week. He had the ring already anyway, his plans for next month somewhat ruined, but that was fine, this was better than that anyway.

“How did you know?” He asks. The doctor hadn’t, probably because of how panicked he had been on the phone when demanding an appointment and explaining why. Her fingers stop moving and she’s not looking him in the eye anymore. “Mon amour,” “My phone.” He looks at her confused and she must be able to feel it since she’s looking at his chest, not his face because she continues. “I woke up to go to the bathroom and when I came back, my phone, it had a notification asking me if I had gotten my period yet. I hadn’t even realized I was late. So, I went to the kitchen, drank two glasses of water and took a test.” His eyebrows furrow. “You left to go buy a test?” He couldn’t imagine sleeping through the sound of her leaving the apartment to get a test. Her fingers dig a little into his chest, but he doesn’t even flinch and she looks at him, nervous. “I already had one in the bathroom.” Charles’ jaw drops. “What?” She shifts back on him, “it’s just since Chiara, we’ve been so much more active! I wanted to be prepared in case.”

His hands that have been resting on the bed, occasionally before he asked how she knew, running up and down her calves, land on her hips, gripping them tight as he moves her until she’s properly straddling him. “We were trying to make a baby.” He reminds of her. “Practicing.” She corrects. “We were practicing making a baby.” One of his eyebrows raises and he tightens his grip on her hips, forcing her to grind on his hardening cock. “Really? Because I remember a lot of you begging me to cum inside of you, to give you a baby, my baby.” “Cha.” She whines. “What baby?” He murmurs, sitting up to press their lips together. “I did it, didn’t I? Give you my baby.” “You are impossible.” She whispers before returning his kiss with a kiss of her own. “But yes. You did give me a baby.” He groans, thrusting up as best as he can. “Promise me,” he begins as he presses kisses to her jaw. “That next time you’ll tell me. You’ll tell me that you bought a test. I,” he groans again. “I want to know.” She nods, frantic. “Yes, yes. I promise. I promise I’ll tell you.” “Good. Now take off your clothes. I want to start practicing for baby number two.”

@cixrosie @badbatch-simp24 @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @ironspdy @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @kimmiB13 @alessioayla @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @elliegrey2803 @tallrock35 @casperlikej

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #sins 5k bday bash fics

391 notes · View notes

exhaslo · 5 months

Text

Corruption

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Warning: Minors DNI, smut, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five months before D-Day

It was quiet. Something nearly unheard of in the city of Nueva York. Not even a whoosh of wind or a click of a heel could bring noise to this silent room. Especially not after the vulture of the lab had demanded everyone's silence.

You sat in the corner of the lab, quietly tapping against your tablet. You could not even hear another's breathing. That is how powerful the lead of this lab was when he demanded silence. That was how powerful-

"Miguel?" You whispered lowly.

Miguel O'Hara, otherwise known as Mike, due to his father's pestering nicknaming. Miguel O'Hara was the son of Alchemax's CEO, Tyler Stone, and the smartest scientist in the corporation. He was a man of power, and a man to be feared.

"This better be good, (Y/N)" He said with a hiss.

Oh, how you loved it when your name rolled off his tongue. If only he would have said it a little nicer. You raised your head from your tablet, looking ahead at the scene before you. A man, strapped onto a metal table with lights and strange liquid being entered into his blood. A twisted science experiment that never ended well.

Sometimes you questioned your job. You questioned how you found yourself seated as a secretary, recording each horrible experiment Miguel did. This was not for the faint of heart. You started working for Alchemax about two years ago thanks to a friend who helped you out of college.

You met Miguel a year ago, when you were assigned to be his personal assistant. Since, apparently, everyone else refused to take the job. Once you did your first report with him, you immediately found out why, but that wasn't going to stop you.

"According to my report, the subject purposely ate a peach before agreeing to this test." You explained.

"So?"

"So, the patient is allergic to peaches and is about to go into shock in a matter of minutes now." You huffed.

"Shouldn't affect the procedure."

Oh, how sometimes you wished you could enter Miguel's head and wonder what sick and twisted mind worked in there. Miguel was fascinated with genetic splicing. He always had a new test subject on his table once a week. He wanted to learn how to manipulate their DNA.

However, each experiment always ended in failure and death. The body count Miguel had was enough to lock him up a hundred times over. The man had not a single shred of humanity in him. It was always about the experiment.

"Begin,"

You rolled your eyes, wishing you could stop all of this. You had begged for a way to find the light in Miguel. How could someone so handsome be so evil? It almost made you sick the amount of times you had wet dreams about your monster of a boss.

"Another failure, sir. Perhaps we made a mistake-"

"I never make mistakes." Miguel hissed as he watched his now deformed monster patient lie dead on his table, "Get him out of my sight! Now!"

Right as you started to fill out your report, you noticed the patient's stomach start to inflate. You furrowed your brows before yelling out to everyone that the body was going to pop.

Your efforts were for not. Within the second, everyone in the room was covering in disgusting blood and body parts. You had wanted to throw up, but you did your best to hold it all in. Miguel was already throwing a fit about his lab being dirty, you didn't want to add to the mess.

----------

Once you were all cleaned, you made your way back to your office. You still had to finish your reports and send them over to Miguel for review. Miguel always demanded perfection. It was amazing how long you even lasted as his assistant. According to everyone, you were the more insane one.

"Oh, Miguel," You muttered, spotting the tall man in your office. Miguel lazily looked at you,

"Took you long enough," He spat. You placed your tablet down,

"Remember that time I told you that being a female requires more shower time?" You said with a smirk. Miguel scoffed as he placed himself onto your work couch, "Not even a smile," You huffed.

"Get working,"

"Yes, yes, oh chosen one." You teased once more.

The only thing that you could collectively agree on was that you were in love with the mad scientist. Giving Miguel a head massage, you stared down at his gorgeous face. You had been working with Miguel for a year. You knew what he liked, what he didn't like and how he worked.

It was safe to say that you were probably the only person in this whole building who understood Miguel. If only he wasn't evil. You would totally asked him out on a date long ago. Each passing day, you hoped that these feelings would go away.

"(Y/N), do my shoulders too," Miguel whispered in a low and sweet voice.

You folded far too easily. Doing what he asked, you knew that Miguel was using you. You had to be blind not to see that, but shit, you couldn't help it. That, and you physically could not quit your job. Both Miguel and his father made sure that no one would quit.

If you'd try, you'd be drugged.

Perhaps one day, you could bring this place to justice. You wanted Miguel to see the error of his ways. If there was any way to change Miguel to see the light, you would. Of course, taking Alchemax down was going to have to be the first step.

But, that was just a fleeting dream.

--------

Miguel inhaled deeply as you worked on his tense muscles. The only thoughts coursing through his mind were his experiments. How they could have been done differently. Perhaps he needed a different breed of test subjects.

"Let's resume our experiments with spiders," Miguel said with a low groan as you pinched just the right spot. He heard your small whine and scoffed, "We do this every other month."

"I know and you still torture me with it!" You cried softly, moving his to hair. Miguel closed his eyes, enjoying the massage,

"And as usual, I let you pick the next creature to study."

"A seahorse?"

Miguel resisted a chuckle since his first thought was getting males pregnant. How amusing that experiment would be, yet also horrifying. If he were to do that, then he would truly live up to his name as a mad scientist.

You had some dumb and ridiculous ideas. You weren't as smart as the rest of them and Miguel liked that. You were good for him to have around. Someone to remind him that there were those who were just dumb naturally. Of course, he could never say that to your face, or you would start crying.

"Like last time," He whispered ever so softly.

"Hm? Are you thinking rude things again?" You asked with a huff, gently pulling against his hair, "I can always stop this."

"But you won't." Miguel hummed and lazily opened his eyes, "Just be ready for tomorrow. I don't want another disappointment."

Getting himself ready to leave, Miguel fixed up his lab coat before giving you one last glance. He knew that you were attractive. Hell, he had to force his ignorant coworkers to get back to work since all they did was talk about wanting to date you.

Perhaps in another universe, where Miguel wasn't obsessed with his experiments, he would date you. Stepping out of your office, Miguel knew full well what he was doing. He got a rise knowing that he was keeping you all to himself.

Call it villainous, but Miguel enjoyed being selfish. That's how he always got what he wanted. Entering his private office, Miguel's eyes sparkled as he saw a case full of spiders.

"I'll make the perfect specimen, this I swear." He said with a wicked smirk.

----------

You squirmed in place, not ready to deal with today's experiment. You hated spiders. You wanted nothing to do with them, but Miguel loved them. He was so fascinated about the great hero age and about Spiderman.

Slowly making your way inside the lab, you gasped as scientists dashed past you. Everyone was running around in a panicked frenzy. Wondering what was happening, you gasped as you saw Miguel shaking with anger.

His spider enclosure was knocked over.

You wanted to jump and scream, but you knew that would only anger Miguel more. Hesitantly, you approached Miguel to try and distract him. As you did so, you felt something bite the back of your neck. You flinched and slapped your neck, praying that it was a mosquito.

You bit your lower lip, spotting a spider and nearly cried. Quickly shaking the foul creature away, you hurried to Miguel's side and gently tugged on his sleeve. Miguel hissed as he turned towards you violently,

"WHY AREN'T Y-Oh, (Y/N)," He growled. You were still biting your lower lip, glancing away from him,

"I know now isn't the best time, but why don't we-"

"Whatever it is, let's go while these fucking IDIOTS find my spiders," Miguel roared in anger.

You just nodded, leading Miguel out of the room as you quietly prayed for your fellow coworkers. Miguel was not going to let them rest until all of his spiders were found...including the one you just murdered.

"Why don't you tell me what you were going to work on while we go to lunch? I think a meal break would help," You suggested, tapping away on your tablet. Miguel stroked his hand through his hair, cussing lowly in Spanish,

"Sounds like a plan."

You smiled as you led Miguel to your lunch destination. You were proud to say that whenever Miguel was going to have a meltdown, you were able to calm him down someway or another. Call it talent, but you loved being reliable.

However, that talent seemed to be failing you now. You couldn't keep focus during lunch and Miguel seemed to be getting annoyed. You weren't sure what was happening to you, but your body felt like it was on fire. Could it have been from the spider bite?

"Sorry, Miguel...I just...need to..." You whispered before collapsing.

-----------

Miguel was growing irritated as he watched you waver in place. You were fine just a moment ago. If there was one thing Miguel hated, it was when someone lost interest in his conversation. This had never happened to you, so why now?

Right as you stood, you immediately came tumbling down. Like instinct, Miguel caught you and noticed that you had a fever. A small scoff escaped his lips as he carried you out of the restaurant and back into his company car.

"Take us to (Y/N)'s apartment. Fool got herself sick,"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader

874 notes · View notes

pursuitseternal · 5 months

Text

“Persuade Me,” Ascended Astarion tells you, a sub!Astarion, all tied up for you in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.9K persuasive dom/sub bdsm smut

Summary: He’s so terribly stubborn, it will take a lot of persuasion to get him to come around. All tied up, it should be easy, but no matter how *hard* it is, it will be… delicious for you both…

CW: bondage, sub!Astarion, tender confessions, possessive and stubborn Ascended behavior, persuasive bedroom techniques so effective, he tells you the reason he can’t let you out of his sight, why you are not just… some… spawn…

Based on “Just A Drop🩸”

Read on AO3 | Astarion fic Masterlist

How will you persuade him…

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen Lord Astarion all morning,” you give your most convincing look of worry, of concern and confusion. Eyes wide and brows furrowed, painted lips pouting as you close your dressing gown tightly around your body. “Perhaps try the grounds? Everyone knows he enjoys a good stroll in the dawn…”

And with that you shut the door in the poor trembling servants face. A brief flash of relief on their fearful countenance that dismissing them and shutting the door on them was the worst you did. You hear their poor feet skitter away. And then, you turn with a deep, contented breath to view the sight stretched in your bed.

Yours. And his.

He’s waiting. Patiently. Spread wide and tethered to the four posts of your bed frame, and most of all, your mouth waters to see that hardened, twitching, eager cock proudly erect.

Just as you left him.

Only now, his eyes are drawn, half-lidded, his tongue licking his lips.

“They will get suspicious eventually, darling,” he croons, all the tones of confidence as you draw alongside the bed, dropping your thin, little dressing gown to reveal you pale figure again.

“Let them,” you purr right back. “They wouldn’t dare enter without my permission,” you cock your head flirtatiously, “or yours. But since you are… tied up with other matters…”

“Puns, darling,” he groans, face twisting in a sour show of distaste.

“…they will just have to take my word for it.” You laugh slowly, sitting yourself beside his hip, a single finger tracing through the ridges of his stomach. Ignoring his little taunt, savoring his submission as your willing plaything for now.

“Liar,” he croons rolling his body to press against your ass, where you are perched almost out of reach. “You said Lord Astarion isn’t here,” he’s growling. Provoking. Straining against his binds that are restraining both him and his ever-growing magic.

You give him that wide-eyed innocent look, scanning the room, a show of searching, a pantomime that only makes him sneer playfully and shake his head. “All I see is my lover, my Vampire Rogue, who is being rather stubborn about all this,” you sigh as you swiftly roll to brace yourself above him, perched on your hands and knees to hover over his taught form. Tantalizingly close.

He groans, trying to lift himself to touch any part of you. But you are clever, you’ve played enough games on the receiving end of such pleasurable punishments to know just what you wish to do.

“I am allowed to be stubborn when what you ask for is reckless… painful… dangerous…” he’s snarling below you, his chin jutting up to make his shining fangs all the more fearsome.

“It has been months since the end of our adventures,” you reply in calm and steady tones, “months of solidifying our power, of eliminating the traces of our enemies and assuring alliances, even with old friends…” you think of Wyll, new Duke Ravenguard, and the tenuous agreement to turn his literal blind eye on most of what Astarion does. Trusting you to be the one to keep him in check from anything horribly nefarious.

“You think my consort… my queen… should wander the streets of Baldur’s Gate alone? Unguarded? Like some….”

“Adventurer and hero?” you interject.

“I was going to say commoner…” he sniffs, disgruntled.. “You’re so much more than that now, my love. Let me free and I’ll show you just how special you are… how regal and unique…”

You skate your fingers down the hard lines of his stomach, barely ghosting their way towards his straining erection. “Mmmmm my love, you’re always so good at persuading with your body, I’d like to give it a try.”

“You can try, darling…” he swallows his grunt as you finally touch him, just the pads of your fingers tracing up the underside of his cock. “But you’ll find my tongue is better suited to other… pursuits… than merely trying to give you my word.”

“I’ll take my chances,” you simper, you pout, lowering your head to place a gentle kiss at the joint of his hip. “I think all you need is the correct incentive… the sweetest persuasion…”

“What you ask will certainly take a lot to persuade me, darling,” he groans. “If you think I’m about to allow you to go without an escort around the streets of Baldur’s… hngf…”

You suck him hard, taking in as much of his straining, painful erection as you can until it jabs at the back of your throat and makes you gag. But that’s it. You release him with a deafening, sloppy pop. Meeting his eyes, they are glassy, his teeth bared in a grimace of pain. Or pleasure.

“Hells,” he whines, bucking his hips erratically off the bed, even with his legs tethered and spread as they are.

“You want to rethink that assertion, my love?” you preen, crouched beside him, nested in the bedcovers.

“Never,” he growls, a playful smile on his full and pouting lips. “But I’ll join in your game all you want, darling. You’re burning for my cock as much as I am for you and all your deliciousness.”

“Is that so?” You simper, slowly lowering your mouth back down to hover above his aching erection. The closer you get, the more he betrays his anticipation as it twitches. You barely run the tip of your tongue around that ridge of its head. “Just a simple acquiescence to the little thing I ask of you… just to walk beyond our palace…”

“Not without me,” Astarion’s eyes flash, his fangs glinting in the morning light that seeps through the window. “Never alone, my pet…”

You take him in mouth lips again, loose and sloppy, just a bit of wet and warmth to tease him before you dodge away, avoiding the thrust he attempts to make for some relief. “Ah, ah,” you scold with a simpering pout, “we ask first before we start fucking faces, my love.”

“May… I…” he clenches his beautiful white teeth, forcing his words through them, “fuck… you?”

“No, but thank you for asking,” you taunt, running your tongue up that grooved underside, letting it linger along the intricate map of veins that weave around that hard, throbbing length. “Once you agree, then I’ll be more than happy to let you in… somewhere…”

He lets out a ferocious growl, a smile still playing around his lips, eyes craning above his head to inspect your bindings. Even as they tingle with a little magic, a little extra assurance against all his mighty vampiric powers now. “I swear, if I could shift into my newest form…”

“Your cute little bat?” you grin, laughing loudly as you take him deep enough into your throat to feel the vibrations of your throat. Then, you release another strong suck with a pop. “What would you do, make a nest in my hair?”

He laughed at that, low, dark, and rolling. “Tempting,” he hissed back, “nothing short of what you would deserve, darling.”

“To wander without needing to wait for you to be free from your rule… your duties?” you return your attention to that glistening cock with a hungry grin, “I’ll take my chances again.”

He squirms as you barely graze it with your lips again, just little nipples of that smooth, stretched skin up and down its shaft. “Please, darling, please,” his voice grows desperate, edged with need, “give me just a little of your body.”

“And in exchange?” you croon, gracing him with one last lingering suck and swirl around that blunted tip.

“I will take you where you wish to go,” he groans at the continued release, your little reward of rhythmic bobbing over his length as you take him satisfyingly deeper. “To hells with duties, if that is your wish.” Tone softening, he bucks into your mouth, his timing as always impeccable, jamming that slick hardness down your throat as you lower. You sputter and gag, your throat closing around him before you can lift away.

“Naughty,” you chide him gently, frowning with a hint of a smile as you creep to dangle your body over him, all hands and knees and swinging breasts. Breasts he’s licking his lips for as you draw nearer.

“Just a taste, darling,” he flashes those wide, pleading eyes up at you, “I swear I only need a little…”

“Mmmm, I’ve heard such beautiful lies before,” you raise yourself onto your knees, straddling those clenching muscles of his belly. A single one of your finger slips inside your own folds, and you let him hear just how wet you are. It squelches, sloppy and thick as you tease yourself. You ride over his belly, locking your half-closed eyes with his, wide and burning and dilated as they are. “Good rogues get the spoils,” you pant, letting yourself thrust those fingers into your dripping folds harder, faster. You spasm, riding your own hand, feeling his belly rise and fall against your thighs and cunt as you pleasure yourself.

You can hear the bed groaning, the wooden frame creaking loudly as he pulls at every binding. It makes you lick your lips, eyes fluttered shut to savor the way he’s writhing between your thighs, shaking as he comes undone to watch you panting. Always watching as you begin to come, trembling and moaning as you shatter, your arousal pooling over his belly. As you try to catch your breath, you let him look into your gaze, that feral, barely-bridled glow of red in his eyes. You feel his cock throbbing against your ass, twitching as you make the slightest of contact with where his is in deepest agony.

It makes you smile wickedly, leaning forward to proffer your slick and dripping fingers for his lips. You need not say a word, not when he opens, straining against his tethers to suck you clean. Every lap and lick of his tongue, he feasts on your cum, little noises of feeding in his throat, the same he has always made, lips bruising your neck in the wee hours of night.

You tug them roughly from his mouth. “Enough of that from you,” you chide, smiling. Taunting. “I give you a little, and you still have yet to give me my due, my love.”

He grins, licking the corner of his lip. “You still haven’t figured it out yet, have you, my darling… my treasure…? Have you stopped and thought, perhaps, why I won’t let you wander aimlessly into the open, outside of my protection?”

“Because you just can’t bear to be without me…” you tease him, a wicked smile on your face as you place a quick kiss on his insolent lips. He fights for you not to break away, his teeth biting into the swell of your lower lip. “Selfish lover that you are…” you mumble as he tries to devour you all the more.

“Naturally, my little love,” he pants as you raise up, a hand firmly pushed on the base of his throat. “Has it not always been so, darling? Your ferocious rogue always at your side? But now, my sweet consort, have you ever wondered why I can’t resist being just oh.. so… possessive of you?”

You pause, tilting your head, considering. You wait for an answer, but those full, smirking lips of his just press silently together.

“Oh, you wish for me to draw out your answer,” you needle him, an edge of irritation in your voice now.

“Isn’t that the point of your charming, little game?” he presses, tugging at his bonds to make them snap with tension.

“Then let’s play,” you smirk, neck taut as you cock your chin, posturing with all the dominance you can muster.

“Anything to get some wet part of you on my cock, my love…” he arches his body as you slide off his belly. “If you please,” he adds, extra silken temptation in his tone.

“You haven’t been good, but I suppose you require more persuasion,” you hum, “and perhaps you could use a more convincing sight. Until you tell me exactly why you insist on being my constant escort, at least.”

“You’re clever,” he hisses as you begin to turn your back to him, hand gripping that throbbing shaft, his pulse pounding beneath that smooth skin. “If you can defeat the Absolute, the Netherbrain, it should be easy for you to puzzle out why your vampiric lover can’t let his consort out of his sight for a moment…” He groans as you straddle those narrow hips of his, one hand sweeping his cock through your drenched folds. “No matter how powerful… or insolent she may be…” he adds, a deep-throated growl on every word, a snap as he taunts you.

You let him dip slowly inside you, barely taking more than the ridge of his tip between your thighs. Hands gripped on his knees, you feel his legs shaking, trembling to finally find some relief as you fuck him leisurely. A gentle sway, an agonizingly slow riding. And never enough to let him sheath inside you fully.

A mischievous smirk on your lips, you glance over your shoulder. His teeth are grit, his eyes darkened with lust and wide as he cranes to watch your ass, the gradual, rhythmic rise and fall as you pleasure him with total control. “Powerful, am I?” you gloat, taking him just a little deeper.

It makes him hiss, his eyes shutting as sweat begins to dampen his forehead.

“More than you realize,” he gasps, voice grating as he forces his eyes open to drink in the sight of you. “More than I have ever admitted to anyone… to you.”

“Tch,” you suck your teeth in that way he always has, “how sweet, my love. Is that why you keep me here, keep me at your side always? For my power?”

“Don’t forget your beauty that would launch nations into battles for you, my treasure…”

That makes you smile, makes your stomach flutter in expectation, and for your own sake, you take him in, all the way, until you feel the slap of his thighs between your legs.

He roars, pulling on his binds on this hands and feet to make the wood of your bed groan almost as loudly. “Please,” he spits, “do that again, darling.”

“Tell me more reasons, and I just might,” you toss over your shoulder at him, making him feel only the tip of his cock piercing you again.

“Why don’t you think, clever girl?” he hisses, trying to buck into your cunt, to reclaim that little hint of wet and pressure you gave him.

“Because I am your equal?” you grind with every thrust, letting your walls clench as you take him just a bit deeper.

“Yes…” he pants.

“Because you just can’t bear to be so far you can’t smell just how aroused you make me…” you giggle, splaying a hand behind you, over his navel, pressing against those hardened muscles of his belly as you sink all the way down.

“Gods, yes…” he’s groaning, licking his lips as you let him fill you at last.

“Because you’ve given me your power, extended your blessings…” you cant your hips slowly, still drawing him along, but he can only sigh, at last feeling the tightness, the wetness he’s sought for so long now.

“Not just my blessings and power, darling,” he cranes his head back into the bed with a sated sigh as you ride him. Even slowly.

But you pause. Clambering over his hips you spin around to face him, cock still sunk inside you, a hand gripped around the lines of his jaw, his chin, to make him look at you. “What do you mean?” you bite.

“Don’t you recall, clever girl?” He’s laughing under your hold. “That night, your final night… what more did I give you?”

Your mind races, your hips grinding, that need now built inside you too, finally feeling filled to bursting, his cock twitching as it drags right over that perfect, secret spot between your walls.

“Free me, if you please, so I may remind you…” he’s crooning, purring as you fuck him. “Please,” he adds, a little extra seductively, his face twisting in that way that makes your stomach knot as it always has. You spread your hands beside his head, eyes narrowed to see him gloating so smugly under you. His little order sends ripples of anticipation down your spine to pool even hotter where your bodies join.

Your hand shakes, your body now riding him of its own accord, even as you reach for the binding around one wrist to slip it off his pale skin. Instantly, his hand grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth as he sinks his fangs into your flesh. You groan, the wave of painful pleasure tearing through you hard enough to make you come. All you feel is his lips drinking you in, his cock throbbing as you spasm and ride him still through the clenches of your orgasm. You’re so full, so taken, so overwhelmed.

And he’s laughing, swirling his tongue over your dripping blood.

“Blood,” you breathe through your climax.

“Not yours,” he growls before biting into his own wrist in the same way. Then, he proffers that flow of his blood for your own lips to taste. “I gave you mine… I made you mine.”

You suck your fill, the tingle of his power, the rush of all that he is, all that he has always been, filling your belly.

“You are not some spawn, darling,” he smirks, that secret dancing over the full pout of his lips. “Your vampire lord gave you his own blood.” His words reach your ear through the euphoria of drinking him in. Suddenly, his hand pulls from your hungry mouth, fingers clawing around your throat. He presses, just enough to make your eyes wide as you swallow under his strength, his hold pulling you down so close to his handsome face. “Even a drop given to you, to turn you, it makes you mine… my consort, my bride, my vampire lover forever, beyond the touch of time itself.”

“Not spawn?” you rasp through his hold on you, a pleased, pleasured smile flickering around your lips as he stares with such longing and adoration up at you.

“No,” he purrs, “but it means I will never let you out of my sight, my power, my protection, so long as we walk this earth. I would rather burn the world to keep you with me forever than risk losing my bride for an instant….” You tremble, you gasp at the ferocity in his gaze as he pulls you down by your throat until your lips crash into his. He feasts on your mouth, groaning at the taste of how your bloods mix and mingle into an intoxicating flavor. Rich. Powerful. United.

Inseparable.

“What a good, good master,” you simper into his kiss. “You shall be rewarded…” You touch the binds again, they all go limp as he shakes them off. He growls his pleasure. He touches you everywhere, fingers sliding from your neck to claw into the hairs at the nape of your neck, nails grabbing for your hips. Legs now liberated, the muscles of his thighs bunch as he starts to fuck hard into you from beneath, feet planted firmly on the bed at last.

“Thank you, my dearest love,” he grins widely, wickedly at you. “I hope I need not persuade you to trust me. Never again forget what it means to be mine…”

“Your bride,” you simper, tasting the title on your tongue, face quirking in a slight and knowing smile. “And that makes you my hus-”

“Your master,” he lifts his head, the weight of his hand at your nape pressing your mouth back down, barely brushing his taunting smirk. “Your lover… your mate or spouse or what have you behind closed doors only.” Then he bites into your neck, fangs piercing like the razors they are. A loud moan slips from your lips as you shiver and shudder in orgasm again from the pain and pleasure. His voice cuts through just as sharply, “And you may only call me husband… three times… for all eternity…” His tongue laps the blood that spills from your veins and down your shoulder now. “Choose wisely, my dearest darling.”

You fight the pull of your pleasure, the need to go limp and just let him fuck you. Not after your hard won victory. So you pull from his mouth, pushing that controlling hand at your neck back down to the bed. “Of course, darling,” you give a naughty smirk, a defiant rake of your brows and flutter of your lips as you press to whisper against his neck instead. “Whatever you say, husband,” you hiss with pure, delightful insolence before you bite him back. Now it’s your mouth that makes him squirm, your control that makes his shudder and hitch as he chases his climax, seeking with reckless abandon the thing that you have kept just tantalizingly out of reach.

“You fuck me like this, my love, and you just might persuade me to get used to it…” he rasps, hands grasped at your hips to keep you steady so he can pummel you mercilessly.

“Ah ah,” you tut your tongue to chide him. “Remember, good masters ask before they come inside their brides,” you gloat, feeling that truth, that connection of your blood and your undead hearts beating all the stronger for it.

“Please,” he begs harshly through gritted teeth, his fucking undeterred as he waits for your word.

He slams up into you with all the more force, his face already screwing and twisting with how close he is.

“Yes, my love,” you acquiesce with a dramatic lilt. It doesn’t take long, not after he watches you smile and feels you clench your walls around him with all your strength. He roars, writhing and spasming as he empties inside you. Buried so deep you feel the tip of his cock twitching against the end of your channel.

You gasp, your sweat dripping down your temple as you watch him begin to still and relax beneath you. But you stay, cock deep and warm inside you, his thighs beneath you soaked with your mingled juices.

“So,” you pant, letting your own body respond with its own basking in the glow of your pleasure, as you slowly lower your body to blanket him. His hand strays absentmindedly through your hair, fingertips softly brushing your cheek with each pass. “You must have lots of ruling to attend to now that you’ve persuaded me,” you murmur, nestled against the hard bone of his jaw, tracing your finger through the pooling of his blood from your bite. You bring that finger to your mouth to suck it clean. “I’ll wait for you before I wish to venture out for the day.”

“Oh,” he grips into your hair, raising your head to look at him again, and your smile widens to see the intensity, the possessive glint in his crimson eyes. “I think all that can wait. Right now, you can choose, venture out and then fuck again until you’re begging me for more? Or fuck first and then venture out into the day, my love?”

You giggle, a grind of your hips to drag over his still hardened cock inside you. “Hmm, a tough choice,” you grin, scoring your own fingers through his hair, “perhaps you need to persuade me this time…”

364 notes · View notes

saetoru · 2 years

Text

#𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋, 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐄𝐑

☰ SYNOPSIS ⋮ gojo satoru has ruined your best friend’s life—and you’re about to make it a whole lot worse yourself ; part 2 here

— pairing ⋮ gojo satoru x reader

— length ⋮ 2.1k words

— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, mentions of betrayal (gojo is your best friend’s ex and you fuck him), (slight) mutual pining, toxic! gojo, lovesick! gojo, (slightly) mean! gojo, car sex, light choking, edging, unprotected sex, praise, creampie

— notes ⋮ this is for my soulmate @bxnten 's burn book collab <3 we r mean girls to everyone but each other hehe ily kitty cat <33

gojo satoru is a sleazy, backstabbing, knife-twisting, and heartbreaking asshole. he has little regard for others, doesn’t bother to ponder the weight of his actions, acts as though the world revolves around him, and you’re sick of him—or so you tell yourself.

he’s made your friend’s life hell, really. he’s made her cry, made her question her worth, made her sacrifice things she shouldn’t have to, made her so unhappy, that you can’t help but wish you could punch him in his (perfect) teeth. you tell yourself you’re sick of picking up phone calls that turn into hours worth of tearful rants, and you tell yourself you’re sick of being haunted by his cocky smirk as he shoots you a wink in the back of your mind. it’s how any good friend would feel—any good friend would look at him and wish he’d drop dead on the spot for all the times he’s fucked up.

but you suppose you’re not half as good of a friend as you once thought you were—maybe you’re not as fiercely loyal as you gave yourself credit for. because what kind of friend would be sprawled on the backseat of the ex’s car that they’re supposed to hate? what kind of a friend would cling desperately to the same man they’ve said probably has a small dick anyway, drunk on the drag of his cock? what kind of friend would ever think about getting with their friend’s ex—let alone actually do it?

you, apparently.

“that feel good, sweetheart?” he chuckles, hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly. your head spins at the cut-off of oxygen, a shaky gasp falling off your lips as your stare up at him. gojo chuckles, loosening his grip, kissing away the stray tears on your cheek as you whimper at the shallow thrust of his hips. “you like when i do this, huh? like when i fuck you like this? bet you like me, don’t you?” he grins cheekily.

he’s an asshole.

a horrible, heartless, selfish, insensitive, and self-absorbed asshole. but his cock drags along your walls so good, the stretch making your mind fog and your back arch until your chests meet, your nipples brushing against his through the fabric and making you both groan.

“act like you hate me so bad, but i bet you were just mad, huh? are you mad i didn’t pick you first, is that it?” he pouts, squeezing your cheeks together and leaving you with no choice but to look at him as he presses his forehead to yours.

but you’re stubborn, you have been since you first met. you refuse to shake his hand when he first offers it, refuse to be on civil terms when he third wheels hangouts, and refuse to apologize first after any arguments that might stir. and you’re stubborn now too, closing your eyes to have some level of power of your own against him—but he only chuckles, bringing his hips to a stop and gritting his teeth as he feels the burn of his orgasm die down.

you whine, buck your hips, and open your eyes as you stare at him confused, “what the fuck? why’d you—”

“asked you a question, sweetheart,” he sneers, hand finding its way down to your clit, rubbing slow, agonizing circles that have you whining as your head tosses back.

“p-please, gojo—need it—”

“uh uh,” he drawls, that annoying, infuriating, and sickeningly smug little smile on his face as he looks down at you, “you gotta answer my question. then i’ll give you what you want,” he pats your cheek. “you wish i picked you, don’t you baby?”

“no,” you spit, glaring at him harshly, “you’re a fucking asshole. you don’t care about anyone’s feelings but your own, and you couldn’t love someone if your life depended on it. fucking dickhead—” you cut yourself off with a squeal when his fat tip slams into you all of a sudden, right against your spot, making your arms wrap tightly around his neck as your legs hook around his waist.

you’re clinging to him desperately by now, sobbing with every harsh roll of his hips, crying out every time his navel bumps along your clit and pulls you closer and closer to your orgasm. gojo’s jaw is clenched, his hands gripping your hips so tight, you almost think there’ll be bruises by the time he’s done. your slick and his pre cum leaves a messy ring at the base of his dick and a trail down the inner sides of your thighs, and maybe if he wasn’t so angry, he’d have made a cheeky comment about how wet you are.

“oh yeah, is that right? i don’t care about feelings? i can’t love someone?” he laughs, but there’s not a trace of amusement in his tone—it’s so condescending, so mean, you have to fight back tears. “you’re the best friend. i’m just an ex. wait till she finds out just how much you care,” he spits, venom lacing his tone as you gasp, shaky and just a little scared. it satisfies him maybe a tad bit too much. “i bet she’ll be thrilled to hear how lost on my cock you get, always beggin’ for more—aren’t you just a greedy little thing?”

“n-no,” you gasp, clutching onto his shirt tightly, fighting the wobble of your lips at the thought. “you can’t. you can’t! please, gojo, you can’t tell her, sh-she…she’ll never speak to me again a-and—”

“aw, don’t cry sweetheart,” he laughs, and his hips are slamming into your abused cunt mercilessly now, making your walls flutter around him as he lets out a low grunt, moaning against your ear—and he sounds so pretty, so sweet and divine and perfect, it makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

you almost understand why it took your friend as long as it did to finally leave him.

“please, gojo,” you sniffle, teary eyes staring up at him pleadingly. it makes his heart jump, makes his heart ache a little deep in his chest.

because you’re wrong. he isn’t always an asshole, and he does care sometimes—in fact, he always cares when it’s about you. gojo satoru thinks he’d let the sun bleed out if he had to, as long as he has your smile to brighten his days for as long as he lives. because you’re wrong, he can love—and he loves you desperately.

he never wanted to fall in love with his girlfriend’s best friend. never wanted to be a shallow man with even shallower intentions, but who could hear your laugh and see your smile and not fall head over heels? it makes him mad—hurts deep in his chest and aches so bad, that he thinks you’re almost bad for his health. you don’t bat an eyelash at him, don’t even wanna be around him for longer than you have to be—and yet, he wants you by his side for longer than eternity. he can’t help but wish he met you first, can’t help but hate the universe for being so cruel, so heartless for making him find the one person he wants more than anything like this.

he wants you badly, and the worst part is even if you want him too, you’d never let yourself indulge in something as retched as a betrayal—even if technically, you already have the second his cock sank into you.

so he presses a gentle kiss between your brows, leaves a trail of kisses along your cheek and jaw, and he hovers over your lips. “i won’t tell,” he mumbles against them, making your breath hitch in shock, “won't say a word if you call me toru, yeah? jus’ say toru, just once, yeah? i gotta hear it.”

“promise?” you sniffle, “you promise you won’t tell?”

“promise,” he agrees with a nod, and he even holds out a pinky to seal the deal. a soft grin spreads across his lips when your own pinky hooks around his, the warmth of your touch, as small as it might be, lighting him up until he feels like his chest is pressed with the weight of the sun.

“kay,” you mumble, “need more, toru—please, gimme more,” you beg, and his name tastes so sweet rolling off your tongue, so saccharine it almost feels like it’s dripped with honey, trickling past your lips and rolling down your chin for him to kiss off. it makes your head spin that you never want to say gojo again now that you’ve gotten a taste of toru.

with a shaky exhale against your mouth at the sound of his name, he pulls you into a hungry kiss, desperate and needy and just a little starved. his cock is aching by now, throbbing in your dripping core, balls heavy and ready to release as he rolls his hips faster into you. his skin slaps against yours, the slick sound of his cock bullying into your wet cunt filling the small space of his car, his body towering over you in the cramped back seat. he lets his hand find the soft flesh of the back of your thigh, hoisting your leg over his shoulder as he angles himself deeper into you, letting out a strangled cry when your walls flutter around him tightly.

“fuck, that’s it—g-gonna be the death o’ me, sweetheart,” he grunts, “so good, takin’ me so well, yeah? so fuckin’ tight,” he rasps. his thumb finds your clit once more, rubbing harsh circles and watching entranced as tears spill past your lash line, staining your cheeks with a soft, wet glisten that makes his heart squeeze and his chest tighten. “god, you’re so perfect, so pretty. my pretty girl,” he coos, “my. pretty. girl,” each word is followed by a sharp thrust, and the slam of his tip against your sweet spot, and the way he sounds so possessive as he claims you as his makes your back arch and your nails dig into his skin through his shirt.

“toru, toru, ‘m close—please, ‘m so close—”

“i know, baby,” he pants, moaning into your neck as his head buries into the small space, breath fanning against your skin and making you shiver. “‘m close too, gonna cum—fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” he whines.

“fuck—toru, toru, ‘m…‘m cumming,” you scream, your orgasm crashing over your body, making your arms wrap around him tightly as you cling to him and sob. your walls spasm around him erratically, the sound of your mewls as you cry his name pushing him into his own release.

his head digs into your shoulder, his body trembling over yours as he lets his hips slam into you sloppily, thick ribbons of cum painting your walls white as you feel his cock twitch with every rope.

“oh fuck, baby, that’s it—sh-shit, feels so good,” he pants, “g-god you’re somethin’ else, should’ve…should’ve picked you. it should’ve been you—god, i love you,” he babbles into your skin, too overwhelmed by the pleasure burning through his spine as he fucks you both through your highs to even realize the words he’s admitted or the way you stiffen in his arms.

he pulls out and stares at the mess between your legs for a moment, watching as his cum drips down your legs in thick streams. a small bit of pride bubbles up in his chest at the sight before he slumps his body over yours, head digging back into your neck and his lips pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

“we can’t keep doing this,” you mumble, but your hand still finds its way to his hair, stroking through the strands gently. it feels right, like this is how it was always supposed to be—like this is how it should be.

your words make his arms tighten around you, and gojo presses more weight against your body—like the more he presses into you, the longer he can spend in your arms.

“sure we can,” he says stubbornly, “i promised i won’t tell,” he insists, voice lilting into what you think is borderline desperate—desperate to keep you here, where you’re his, where it doesn’t matter if he found you first or if he found you last.

he found you, and that’s all he needs.

“but—”

“i won’t tell if you don’t,” he pleads, “you’re still mine, baby.”

and there’s a buzzing of your phone from the front seat, but you ignore it, letting your arms wrap tighter around his figure as you kiss the side of his head—and for a second, as bad of a friend as it might cause you to be, you think what someone doesn't know can’t possibly hurt them.

even if it makes you a backstabber.

#teepods.writings #thirstee!#fics.#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

5K notes · View notes

yuikomorii · 5 months

Text

// Ok I didn’t want to go this far but at this point, you guys are hating on Ayato just for clout and it shows. It’s okay not to like a character but straight up spreading misinformation about him is not okay. If you lack reading comprehension, just admit it.

What makes Ayato’s past so sad isn’t only the fact that Cordelia was mean towards him. She mentally and physically abused him, yet what genuinely hurt Ayato the most was the way Cordelia treated ALL the triplets. A part of him didn’t even want to kill her, given that he CRIED in the MB flashbacks because, despite being a huge abuser, he STILL felt sympathy even for someone like her. No matter how horrible Cordelia was, Ayato still wished for Karlheinz to reciprocate her feelings only to finally see her happy.

Don't even get me started on the Adam curse. He was practically used as bait and abandoned to death by his own brothers, but he still hoped for their safety after escaping. That curse literally destroyed his entire life because its purpose was to make the person who ate the fig drown in despair and go insane. That's why he was sooo obsessed with Yui's blood. Heck, he's cursed in routes other than his own, as he goes insane in Ruki's MB one, to the point that his brothers had to lock him inside the dungeon. In addition, in his MB Vampire Ending, he falls into a coma because he refuses to hurt Yui and keep drinking her blood.

Other than that, Laito was the one who made him believe that he wasn’t special, hence he adopted the “I will never make someone special again” mentality. He also wanted to kill him when he was younger (no hate towards any of his brothers though). Kanato was the only one who never did something bad to him, considering that when Ayato was a child, Reiji called him the disappointment of the family after failing a test.

Ayato did twisted stuff too; no character is a saint, but he always tries his best to fix things. Even when not dating Yui, he’s capable of showing compassion, support and a desire to improve his relationship with his brothers BY HIMSELF. Check this analysis for example.

Other than that, despite every time being hurt when trying to show kindness, he still became a very selfless guy who’d sacrifice himself for anyone at any given time. What makes this even more admirable is that according to Karlheinz, he’s literally the only one who actually VALUES his life. This guy who loves life would risk it all for Yui, even when not dating, or for any of his brothers.

Credit to: dialovers-translations and tournesolia on Tumblr

On top of that, he's incredibly empathic?? He forgives everybody, no matter what they do to him, and seeks to maintain good relations with them. In Kino's LE route, for example, he tortures and burns Ayato, but Ayato is the first person to recognize him as his brother because he wanted Kino to feel that he, too, belonged to a family.

Last but not least, nobody silences Karlheinz as good as him. He was also the only one who connected the dots by himself about his dad being the root of all evil (Laito too but that was after the letter), including being the only one who didn’t want to kill him only because he didn’t want to fall into his plan. Check this post.

Oh and, Ayato is actually really big; it’s not that only his fans make him that way! This post basically proves that he’s the IT boy of otome games and I should also mention that he’s the character that sells the most in Japan and China! Just look what Japanese fans think of him. ;)

You can dislike him as much as you want but nobody can deny how brave and pure-hearted he is. He’s the definition of from zero to hero.

As I mentioned earlier, it's fine to dislike him, but don't become obsessed with it, lol. At the end of the day, he's merely a fictional character with endearing characteristics and the male lead. It's really not that deep. Besides, it's embarrassing when the hate comes from Yui stans because she definitely wouldn't be happy of any of you talking about her man in that way.

#diabolik lovers #ayato sakamaki #dialovers #sakamaki ayato #admin

268 notes · View notes

eskeptical · 4 months

Text

"only you."

miguel o'hara x reader

summary: after multiple times of having miguel treat your wounds, it's your turn to take care of him. warnings: mentions of blood, needles, and lots of fluff word count: 1k

Working for the Spider Society came with its risk.

At some point, maturity comes with accepting that every thing you do does.

Naturally, for an organization like this one, getting injured basically comes with the contract.

You’ve been hurt plenty of times, sure. Over time, one tends to receive it and keep moving, tending to it later. Often the healing part of it is taken care of by yourself, rarely with the medics team.

However, in your time since you joined, you had never once seen Miguel O’Hara hurt.

Not that he wouldn’t get hurt. He did, often. However, as a man equipped with either a lot of pride or extremely fast healing (the possibility of it being a mix of the two being far more reasonable), you had never seen him approach the medic team.

At some point, the only conclusion you could draw of how he tended to his wounds came from the sight of first aid kits hidden behind his many workspaces, tucked under drawers you had rummaged through upon endless visits to his office.

But doing everything by yourself only gets you so far.

So here you both were, sitting on the hard floor cross-legged with a first aid kit spread open, the smell of rubbing alcohol tickling your nose.

In a sense, you knew you owed it to him. Multiple times he had tended to you after missions in this same spot, as much as you persisted against it.

Or tried to, at least. Truthfully, as skillful as you may be, handling blood and wounds was never your forte.

Where you stood with Miguel didn’t matter right now. Whatever you could call yourselves, call this, would only begin to untangle a piece of string that upon hours of hours of pulling and twisting and turning remains the same throughout, knots come undone and redone.

Your hands were far too busy at the moment, left armed with a needle; the right, a soaked cotton ball that you shortly after placed on the floor next to the rest..

“You’re hesitating.”

With a blink, your eyes wandered over to him. Miguel’s voice implied a statement. Resolute, as always.

(It manifested in his touch too. Any time he had helped tend to your wounds, his hands did not hesitate, decidedly doing what had to be done, while somehow managing to still remain gentle.)

“Sorry. It’s been a while. I’ve had no need to, thanks to you.”

A hearty chuckle left his throat. He rolled his eyes, a mischievous glint accompanied by a slightly raised corner of his lips.

“Are you trying to pin your horrible nursing skills on me?” He asked with a raised brow, to which you turned your gaze back onto his shoulder. Bare, from his neck to his abdomen, purely out of necessity to better access the tiny gashes that surrounded it.

(Not the first ones, you noticed. Multiple scars covered him, a few tones darker than his skin. Most fully healed, others almost, some still fresh. The sight of it pinched at your sides, and you bit your cheek as you wished you could wrap your arms around him for comfort. Something you would have done if only you had absolute certainty it wouldn’t harm him any further.)

“Maybe. You know, there’s a medical team for this. They could do this ten times better than I could.”

Miguel’s hand reached out to you, his fingers circling around your right hand. His thumb caressed your knuckles, tracing circles over them slowly. A habit of his, you had noticed since you two had gotten to this level of trust. He fixed his gaze on his thumb, shrugging and lowering his voice.

“No, they can’t. Their instruments probably aren’t clean. I could get tetanus.”

To this, you laughed, raising an eyebrow at his ridiculous statement.

“Tetanus? From the medics? That you recruited?”

“Whatever. I want you to do it.”

His quick reply hit you in your weakest spot, butterflies bursting rapidly throughout your guts and arteries. At this point, you knew you should be used to them, given there are far more passionate things you have done with Miguel than simply playing a part in his healing process. Still, knowing you were wanted, that he wanted you to do this for him, and trusting you fully to do so filled you to the brim with excitement and warmth.

“Okay, okay, fine.” Attempting to hide a smile, you squeezed his hand, before gently putting it aside and getting to work.

Talking to him throughout the process made it a lot easier to withstand. As you were getting the final stitches done, he commented on it.

“They’re not half bad.”

The teasing criticism made a smile tug on the corners of your lips. As you finished, you began to clean up the aftermath. Cottons, liquids, scissors, all spread around in a mess.

“Yeah, does the expert approve of them? Speaking of, just how many people do you treat around here in your free time that you’re so quick and precise with this?”

Miguel helped you clean up. He smiled, small but warmly, before shaking his head and holding his gaze to yours.

“None. Only you.”

There it was again. That undeniable tug at your heart that somehow had the power to untangle the knot in seconds.

You couldn’t hide your grin, your hand reaching towards him in an attempt to shove him playfully, but being intercepted by his own and moving it backwards, pulling you forward for a kiss.

Despite your protesting laugh, you easily leaned into it, letting yourself melt against him, to which he hummed in approval.

It lasted a couple of minutes. The sense of euphoria it arrived with never seemed to grow old.

When you both pulled back, you were breathless, your lips tingling with the aftertaste, and his hair disheveled.

He grinned, his suit recomposing to its original state.

“Does this mean you’ll help me next time too?”

You rolled your eyes, quickly pecking the corner of his mouth before standing up.

“Mhm. Those medics really can’t be trusted, you know. Tetanus is no joke.”

He nodded full heartedly, following suit.

“Definitely not.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara atsv #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel ohara

202 notes · View notes

drabblesandimagines · 11 months

Text

Bedside Manner

Cloud Strife x fem reader Word count: 2,531

You’re going to die here. You knew your line of work left you open to the threat of death more often than not, always the chance the next monster encounter would be your last… But you hadn’t expected it to end like this – sweaty from fever, a horrible chesty cough, every breath feeling a struggle and surrounded by used tissues on your sofa.

But the worst part of it all? You’re going to die without kissing Cloud Strife.

There were always ailments going around the slums – it was par for the course with so many people living in close quarters, sunlight obscured by a metal sky. There were rumours that this particular one had stemmed from Shinra HQ and thus it had become nicknamed the Shinra Flu, much to the company’s chagrin. It’d floored you from day one. There had been no build-up, no telltale sniffle or scratch in your throat, you’d just woken up feeling like death and that’s how you continued to feel the past four days. Tifa - bless her heart - was straight round the moment you’d not shown up for the Avalanche meeting. You think she must’ve knocked but she was in possession of a spare key and that’s where she’d found you, wheezing away in the bed. What had followed were clean sheets on your bed, water, soup and medicine.

She’d been round morning and evening since, going through the same routine. You’d never felt so pathetic in your life. Every night you’d drift off to sleep hoping you’d feel better in the morning but nothing seemed to be easing despite the numerous combinations of medicine you were taking and the hours of bedrest.

There’s a hesitant knock at the door. Tifa is going to be annoyed you’re on the couch, but you’d split your water in your bed in the night reaching for it after a coughing fit and didn’t have the strength to deal with the situation, so you’d decamped. At least it gave you a different view of the water-stained ceiling.

The key twists in the lock and the door opens and you brace yourself.

“Hi.”

You know you’re still burning up with fever, but that’s definitely not Tifa’s voice. You turn your head towards the door and Cloud Strife is standing there, minus his sword for a change, a paper bag in hand and looking incredibly awkward.

“Cloud?” You rasp out, which was a mistake. Speaking sets a coughing fit off and you sit upright awkwardly, the blankets spilling off your lap – you wished you were wearing nice pyjamas - trying to catch your breath. You hear the door close, footsteps, and the sound of running water. As the coughing subsides, Cloud is now crouched in front of you, holding a glass of water out.

“That sounds nasty.”

You nod, and regret it instantly because it makes you feel dizzy. You reach out to take the glass but your stupid hand is trembling. Could you stop being so pathetic for one moment? Cloud notices and supports the glass as you take it to your lips for tentative sips. This is not how you ever imagined the ex-Soldier being in your home.

“Thanks.” Your voice sounds tight. He nods.

“So,” he gets to his feet, “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here and not Tifa.”

“Hallucination?”

“Not quite.” Cloud smiles slightly, glad to see your particular sense of humour hasn’t been lost, but it isn’t long before he resumes his usual serious expression. “This virus is really contagious. Tifa’s lucky she’s not caught it from coming round here. I said I’d check on you instead.”

You frown at him, positive you’ve misheard. “You wanna get sick?”

“I can’t get sick - not like that anyway. Mako gives you quite the immune system.”

“Oh. Lucky.” You pull the blankets back over you from where they’d fell off in your coughing fit. You’re feeling cold now, though you’re painfully aware your forehead is covered in sweat in front of your crush.

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your bed?” He looks at it pointedly - it’s only a few steps away in your studio apartment after all.

“It’s wet.” The blonde raises an eyebrow at that. “I spilled water on it.”

“Ah. I can help with that. Tifa wrote me a list. Starting with…” he produces the paper from his pocket, “..have you taken medicine recently?”

“Last night. Is it morning now?” Time has lost all meaning.

“Mm-mm, afternoon.” His hand is in the paper bag – you recognise the logo from Wall Market – and he withdraws a small vial holding a luminous green liquid.

“Oh.”

“Drink the whole thing. Apparently the latest in Shinra flu fighting technology, whatever that means.” He twists the lid off and hands it to you. It smells foul so it doesn’t bode well for the taste, but you down it in one with a slight grimace. You’d drink all manner of disgusting things if it made you feel a little better. “I could only get two – supply and demand.”

“Thanks.”

Cloud’s already looking at the next step on Tifa’s list. You can’t imagine how many instructions are on there. “Medicine, check. ‘Temperature – thermometer in bathroom cabinet.’ Okay…”

He’s striding over to your bathroom now, and you hear the bathroom cabinet open and close and he emerges as quickly as he left, thermometer in hand.

“Wait, you don’t have to do this, Clo-“ your sentence is cut off as he slides the device under your tongue and waits for the beep, before retrieving it and scrutinizing the number.

“Fever still - makes sense. And I do have to do this.”

“Just leave me the list, I can do it.”

He stares down at you, hands on his hips, crushing the list ever so slightly. “Uh-huh…” You know you look awful, you couldn’t even hold a glass of water earlier, you haven’t washed your hair in days, and you’d made the couch your bed. Trying to convince this man that you were capable of looking after yourself is an argument you weren’t going to win.

“Right. ‘Change bedsheets. Clean sheets in the basket, wash used sheets in communal washroom downstairs…’ ” He’s heading off towards the bed, still reading aloud. You sink back on the sofa and close your eyes, willing the medicine to kick in and make you feel normal for at least five minutes and save some face in front of him…

Cloud was used to making his bed during training, so it doesn’t take him long for him to strip yours and put clean sheets on, but apparently it was long enough for you to doze off.

This wasn’t on Tifa’s list. You’d be better off in bed – it must be more comfortable than the thing you call your couch. He crouches down besides you, debating if he should wake you up. You look so peaceful though and he hopes that means the medicine must’ve kicked in. It’s only a few metres between the couch and your bed and sleep is important in recovery, after all…

He slides an arm under your knees and another around your waist, picking you up off the sofa in one fluid motion, your head lolling back . You mumble and he freezes, but you nuzzle your cheek into him and your breathing remains in its steady rhythm. He takes a tentative step forward, then another before he makes it over to your bed and carefully places you down on your mattress and tucks the blanket over you. You unconsciously snuggle into the clean sheets and your hair falls over your eyes. Without thinking, he automatically reaches out and tucks it behind your ear, his touch lingering a moment too long.

“Cloud…” you mumble happily into the pillow, cuddling it.

His face goes red, but not from fever.

You awake to a cool hand on your forehead. Everything aches and you desperately want to return to the comfort of sleep, but you’re so hot and there’s a one-sided conversation going on.

“No, she’s still really feverish.”

Cloud’s on the phone – you can hear Tifa’s voice from the tinny phone speakers, though not well enough to hear her side of the conversation.

“No, not since just after I got here. She’s asleep at the moment, but her forehead feels hot.”

Another pause. The cooling hand is removed and you let out a whimper, missing it immediately.

“And that’s all I can do?”

A sigh. “No, don’t come here. I told you, you’re lucky you haven’t caught it. I’ll stay the night and ring you in the morning, okay? Thanks. Night.”

You drift off again in the silence for a few minutes before there’s a gentle shake of your shoulder. It feels a monumental effort to open your eyes but you manage it, though your breaths are feeling laboured again.

“Sorry,” Cloud whispers, looking apologetic. He has the thermometer in his hand. “I just need to check your temperature again, then you can go back to sleep, okay?”

“Mm-hm.” You open your mouth and the device is slipped under your tongue. It beeps moments later and he frowns at the results. “Higher than last time – damn.”

“Bad?” You mumble.

“No, you’ll be fine. You just need to take some medicine and have some water. Can you sit up for me?”

“Yeah…” He can’t help but smile as your eyes close again and you make no sign of even trying to sit up. It’s pathetically sweet.

“Here, let me help,” he slips an arm around your waist and lifts you up slightly, leaning you back against the pillows. “You good there?”

“Uh-huh.” You don’t even sound convincing to your own ears.

“Okay, let me grab some more water.” Cloud’s gone for what feels like no time at all when a glass of water is held up in your face. “Small sips.” You take the glass and he places his hand over yours, supporting it as you dutifully drink.

As you do so, you become more awake and you can see he’s tidied up your living space - the couch is clear of your blankets, the tissues, the glasses…

“You cleaned up.” You say.

“Er, yeah,” he shrugs. “Hope that’s okay. It didn’t take long.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

He looks confused. “Why?”

“Cos I’m pathetic. You’ll never want to go out with me now.” The words tumble out of your mouth with no reasoning behind them.

“I… wouldn’t?” He’s trying hard to hide the smile on his face.

“Who wants to go out with someone who can’t look after themselves?”

“You’re sick.”

“I know – who lives like this?”

“No.” Cloud says, gently, “I mean, you’re sick - ill, poorly, feverish. Besides, I don’t pick who I want to go out with by how clear their floor is of clutter.”

“You don’t?” You sound hopeful.

“Do you?”

“I don’t know – I haven’t seen your floor.”

He laughs. If you weren’t feverish you would’ve been astounded you’d got the stoic Cloud Strife to laugh, but the moment flies well and truly over your head.

“Well, it’s not cluttered, but I don’t have a lot of stuff.” He admits, before retrieving the second vial he got from Wall Market.

“You might just be saying that.”

“Tell you what, when you’re better you can come and take a look.”

“Is that a date?” You sound so hopeful.

“Let’s say it can be a part of it. Now,” he twists the cap off as before and hands it to you. “Drink this, then you can go back to sleep.”

“Okay, only cos you’re so cute.” You down it in one again.

“Well, I’ll need to remember that one.” He takes the empty vial from your hands and places his hand on your shoulder, encouraging you to lie back down. “Try and get some more sleep, okay?”

“Okay…” It isn’t long before you’re enveloped in sleep again.

Through the night, Cloud doesn’t leave your side. He sits on the floor besides your bed, keeping a watchful eye. The fever was proving persistent and you had been tossing and turning, throwing the blankets this way and that in an attempt to stabilise your temperature in a fitful sleep. He remembered his mother looking after him when he was sick as a child, pressing a cool washcloth to his forehead to try and soothe him. Luckily, he found one in the bathroom cabinet, soaked it in tepid water before he placed it on your forehead. At first you tried to shuffle away, but he held it in place, words coming out of his mouth before he can even think. “It’s all right, sweetheart.” He wasn’t sure if it was the words or the washcloth that soothed you more.

Through the night, he’d take it back and resoak it, and when he pressed it once more against your burning skin you’d let out a sigh of content.

“You’ll be okay,” he mumbled – aware he was saying it more to reassure himself. He always hid his emotions well, but he’d been shocked by how sick you were. Although the two of you hadn’t known each other long, he’d grown fond of you more than he’d been willing to admit to himself. Seeing how open and vulnerable you’d been had only endeared you to him more.

Towards the morning, when he’d checked your temperature to find that you finally felt cooler, you’d rolled closer to his touch, causing your hand to drop down from the bed. He grasped it, trying to gently tuck it back under the covers but you wouldn’t let go though, unconsciously linking your fingers with his in a fierce grip and mumbling something. He doesn’t fight it, only smiles and leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment.

When you next open your eyes, it’s to the relief that the horrible pressure that had been on your chest for days has finally alleviated, the fluctuating temperature stabilised. There’s a weight to your hand, and you look through bleary eyes to see Cloud’s head bowed as he’s leant against the wall, your fingers firmly intertwined.

You let go in embarrassment more than anything, not sure how it had occurred. The motion is enough to wake the blonde, who smiles seeing you’re awake.

“Morning,” his voice is husky with sleep, and you feel warm once more – though this time it’s not from sickness.

“Hi.”

He frowns, probably noticing the colour in your cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

“No, I feel better. So much better.”

“Good,” Cloud smiles, before getting to his feet and stretching his arms over his head, showing off his muscular forearms. “You must be hungry, right? I realised I never got you to eat anything yesterday. I’ll go grab something light from the store for us.”

“You don’t h-…”

“I know, I want to.” In a few steps he's already opening the front door before hesitating, turning back to you and grinning, slyly. “Besides, you need to eat so you can build your strength back up ahead of our date.”

“Our… date?” Are you having a fever dream?

“We’ll talk about it more when I get back. Won’t be long… cutie.”

-- Sorry this isn't Rei Suwa-centric as promised, I finished this one first so out it goes into the world x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

Details for my event celebrating 200 followers.

#ghostdogwrites #cloud strife fluff #cloud strife x reader #cloud strife x you #ff7 imagines #ff7

850 notes · View notes

museum-mind · 7 days

Text

I LIKE THE WAY YOU KISS ME

ᯓ★ after receiving (and ignoring) your text which was calling him out, sae found himself growing nervous as he arrived in japan for the u20 match. what would happen to his fluttering heart as he watches you cheer for blue lock in the bleachers?

a/n : guess who’s back!!!! also, i’m sorry i forgot to link this to the request so a special shout-out to the anon who asked for a part 2. love ya!! ALSO! i apologise if this doesn’t match the blue lock manga / timeline.. i literally forgot like everything ( ；∀；)

“please wait until the aircraft has parked to take off your seatbelt.” the flight attendant spoke into the speaker with a commercial smile.

the rest of the words from her blurred, as a pool of emotions swirled deeply in sae’s gut. he can’t believe it, he thinks, as he stands up from the cramped airport seat, unbuckling his seatbelt. is he really here? the country he swore to never step foot in again — the home of the same person who he thought he’d never get the chance to see again.

it’s not like he want to see you, right? he’d mutter to himself, his feet carrying him through the airport quickly as he dragged his suitcase behind him.

as sae called over for a taxi, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of dread wash over him. he sighed, letting the driver to whatever car drove to him pick up his luggage and place it in the trunk.

he’d open the car door, taking a seat in the back as he placed his sports bag beside him before buckling himself in.

the drive was silent, apart from awkward attempts at small talk from the driver — sae couldn’t stand it.

he wouldn’t say it was horrible to be here — but it certainly wasn’t enjoyable to be here. the japan u20 team was full of a group of weirdos. and the only reliable player he could pluck from blue lock was even worse.

“saaaeeee~” the said man squealed, twisting his body as a delighted grin finds it’s way onto his face. “i’m so excited to play with youuuu!”

sae rolled his eyes, reaching one of his hands to massage his shoulder. he groaned at the feeling; he still felt sore.

no matter how much practice he had, he could never relieve himself of the pain as good as you could. your hands were made for him.

“you need help with that?”

“no.”

“awww, come onnnn!”

“i said no.”

“itoshi sae!” the announcer called out his name, cameras flashing all across the stadium as he stepped foot onto the field.

“aaaand… ryusei shidou!”

sae rolled his eyes as the man jumped onto his back, shouting a range of odd phrases.

his sharp teal eyes scanned the crowd, and for a moment — the world stopped. he caught the gaze of a familiar person he used to know.

you.

you were just as perfect as he last remembered; maybe even more. you both held eye contact for a moment, sae being the one to break it and look away from you.

why were his cheeks so warm?

“come on you two, hurry up! the game’s starting soon.” the dual haired man would shout towards sae and shidou, ignoring the flustered expression on a certain player’s face.

the game went by pretty smoothly — sae was able to push you to the back of his mind, eyes focused on the field only. that was, until he heard the sweet sound of your voice.

it’s so familiar, so welcoming, he thinks.

“come on blue lock!!” you’d shout, arms raised high as your cheer for your friends. after you and sae ended, you ventured out into the world, eventually befriending a pretty woman named anri.

she introduced you to the group of rowdy foot ball players who stay cooped up in the soccer facility, and you became fast friends. she even let you work there as her assistant! totally not an excuse for you both to gossip together about which celebrities you think are the cutest.

you had grown fond of the bunch, even meeting sae’s younger brother. at first, he was wary. but as soon as he realised you were not like his brother, he saw you as an older sister of sorts.

the sibling he wished he could have forever.

“go rin, you got this!” you scream out for him, hands waving towards him with a large smile on your face as he glances your way, sending a brief, bashful smile back.

sae could barley believe his ears, quickly whipping his head around as he watched his brother grow more determined.

sae felt so frustrated. you should be cheering for him like that! but he messed up.

he messed up big time.

after a treacherous amount of time, sae could finally take a break at halftime.

“where did you keep looking off to?” one of the u20 players would ask sae, taking a sip out of his water bottle.

“no one.” sae would snap back — a little too quickly.

“what?”

“i wasn’t looking at anyone.”

“i never said you were looking at anyone?”

in the end, u20 lost. it almost brought sae back to his first game in spain.

he lost, thinking about you.

as he ventured out of the stadium, he was immediately caught by paparazzi and news reporters.

he paid no mind, staying on his track toward the car which was picking him up.

“itoshi sae, how do you feel about the outcome of today’s match?” a woman would ask, practically shoving a microphone into his face.

he scowled, a hand reaching to swat it away slightly. he looked off to the side, lifting the same hand to cover his eyes and shield them from the blinding lights.

but as he locked his gaze on you once again, he paused. a feeling that he couldn’t quite name came over him as he stood still for a moment. it was only a matter of time before the paparazzi would follow his line of sight, he thought as his feet began to bring him towards you.

he had to hold onto the strap of his bag tightly, afraid that he’d be caught trembling as he reaches. a shaky hand to grab onto you, pulling you into the shadows of a dark alleyway.

what was he doing?!

“shh.” he’d hush, placing his large palm over your lips as he leaned a little closer to you, a hand pulling you against his chest as he peeked over the corner. he watched the paparazzi run around like a bunch of rats, scurrying to find something, anything to write about.

he scoffed, rolling his eyes before looking down at you. your eyes were wide, and he could feel the way you’re holding your breath. “calm down.”

you bit at his palm, your eyebrows furrowing together in anger as you pulled away. “calm down?!” you whisper shout to the man. “how am i supposed to do that? what is wrong with you?”

“just take a few breaths — like i told you.”

“that was years ago!”

sae stopped. this was futile. he was never able to properly explain his feelings to you. he doesn’t know why, but whenever he’s around you he feels his throat tighten and his stomach flutter. his head is light and his cheeks are warm.

only you could have such an effect on him, he thinks.

before you could say another word, he leaned down, lips pressing against yours as his eyes shut. he hoped that maybe — just maybe — this could tell you everything he wanted to tell you.

everything you deserve to know.

with a soft touch of his lips, he knows you’ll understand. you always did, he remembers.

“sae.” you mumble as he pulls away, your eyes blinking open.

he breathes out, only for a gasp to get stuck in his throat as you lean towards him, returning the kiss. you were so gentle, so loving.

“don’t say another word to me.” you say after breaking away. “your kisses are enough for me to understand how you feel.”

“i like the way you kiss me, name.”

“i know.”

#bllk #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #bllk x you #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x y/n #itoshi sae x you #bllk x y/n

99 notes · View notes

golden-racoon · 21 days

Text

How to do character parallels (Acheron & Aventurine) Spoilers for 2.1

It's pretty evident that the writing team for Penacony has knocked it out of the park and they've been getting better by patch. The best part of this patch has probably been the use of the switch POV to show between the two protagonists of this quest.

I mean it's pretty obvious that they're parallels. They're the last survivors of their people, destroyed by an invading force (the Avgin by the Katica and Izumo by Takamagahara). Both survived through their own skill and support from other people and then suffered horribly through the aftermath of survival.

Acheron becomes a Self-Anihilator and loses parts of herself, like her memory (and sense of taste). She has to use emotion to navigate the world because she can't keep a hold of her memory. In The Pioneer Diver of Dead Waters set it's implied that she was Freebas' friend, and if you read the description of the set it's pretty evident that Freebas died journeying into the black hole that is the Nihility.

Aventurine loses all of his people in a single day (his birthday!!!) and then becomes a branded slave forced to participate in a Hunger Games-style tournament for his survival. It's implied that his only weapon for this entire twisted game would have been his chains, which would have been horribly traumatizing for him since every death he committed would be up close and personal.

Throughout this quest we follow each of them as they carry out their own personal agendas and how each of them come to the same conclusions. They even have a single companion for their quests who helps them carry out bothering Sunday (which is pretty funny in retrospect, since five different people broke into Suday's house in the same 24 hours).

And then Aventurine pulls his closing gambit and Acheron is the only one who understands why he's doing this. Because both of them have loathed themselves and wanted to die, and found something they so dearly want above all of this.

Aventurine needs the power of an Emanator to break down the walls of Penacony and he knows the only person in Penacony who can carry out his ends is Acheron.

And then this happens.

Aventurine understands Acheron's version of Nihility more than anyone. He understands what it means to keep holding on, even when you should be rightfully dead. Acheron understands all too well what it means to lose so much of yourself just to survive, and their conversation about Aventurine's scheme is full of nuance and many, many layers.

My favourite recurring motif for these two is Rain. Aceron says that she weeps "like rain" when she activates her Emanator powers. When she "slashes" Aventurine, she creates rain, something that should be impossible in the Family's dreamscape. Aventurine is associated with rain constantly from birth, something his people consider a blessing. However, now he can't even bear getting his outfit wet in the rain, something that may be a rejection of his past. But when Acheron fulfils his wishes and he finally accepts his past, the rain pours.

In conclusion, I'm losing my mind, and Shaoji is responsible. Probably.

#honkai star rail #honkai: star rail #acheron #hsr aventurine #hsr acheron #2.1 hsr #shaoji when I catch you *shakes fist*

81 notes · View notes

chaoticbardlady99 · 6 months

Text

She’s My Religion (Part 2: She Needs This Love Just as Much as Me) Astarion x F! Reader

Author note- totally not sure how I feel about this, but here we go! I hope someone enjoys this lmao.

I’m really tired and so this has been edited once and I’ll add the link for part 1 later. If you asked to be on my tag list- I am going to be adding you tomorrow simply because I can barely keep my eyes open right now.

CW: Domestic violence, physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, violence, angst.

Picture does not belong to me and is not mine. I cannot for the life of me remember where I got it so I apologize in advance.

“You’ve been doing WHAT!?”

Astarion sits staring at the forest with his head hung with guilt and shame. Shadowheart sounds furious with him and admittedly, Astarion is also raving mad at himself.

Astarion miscalculated terribly- his plan was completely, utterly doomed from the start. Shadowheart is pacing back and forth in front of him- reading him the right act.

Astarion is zoning out as Shadowheart goes on and on saying all the things he’s already said to himself- he begins to drift to the first time he had ever met you about three years ago.

Astarion had been in solitary confinement for what had felt like forever when Cazador let him out. It was probably the only time Cazador had looked somewhat close to nervous with some sick twisted affection behind his eyes. He simply told Astarion he was to accompany you around the grounds and that you needed to be treated with respect. Your step-father did not want you to be present after dinner.

“You are allowed to take her to do what she wants- within reason. Do not let her leave the mansion grounds and make sure she is content,” Cazador said stiffly, “I am trusting you, boy. You know the consequences if you step out of line.”

Later, before you had arrived, Dalyria had made him privy to you and your… temperaments. Astarion relished in knowing you made a fool out of Petras. Someone needed to give the prick a wake up call.

It was also, supposedly, no secret to anyone in your family that you are the one Cazador wishes to marry, but due to your lack of royal blood, it would ruin his alliance with the Von family entirely. So Cazador is stuck with a woman named Daisy Von (who he cannot stand) and Astarion felt like it was the perfect karma for Cazador- the one time he wants something or someone, he absolutely cannot have it.

You were (still are) wildly different from your obnoxious step-sisters and step-brothers.

“Wild.”

“Rebellious.”

“Boorish.”

“Trouble maker.”

It was all this annoying group of people could seem to talk about- how terrible and horrible you were. What a disappointment. What a nuisance.

Dalyria told him beforehand that this was the norm and that it really only gets more embarrassing for them every time. You were kind, headstrong, ambitious, and beautiful according to Dalyria- when she had stepped in for Petras that night at the last minute, you had treated her like a person. You had asked her about herself, engaged in her hobbies by asking questions, and you had made a point of showing her all the medical books in Bridril Von’s library (you even let her take one, Bridril never goes in the library). Astarion had just stared at her in disbelief- she had to be playing a trick on him.

You stood on the farthest end next to the youngest girl and Bridril had scowled so aggressively, Astarion thought his face may cave in on itself. You are far more captivating than any of Bridril’s children could ever wish to be. No wonder Cazador wants you so badly that he’s willing to do anything to make sure you come over with them or that you show up for dinner at your own home- undeterred by the inability to actually make a proposal for your hand.

You looked positively irritated everytime Daisy opened her mouth and he was too. The woman is dense and over-the-top. Dinner had been awkward and you had barely even touched your food, but drank three goblets of wine- every time Bridril leered at you for getting another glass, a sly smirk would cross your lips. Your own silent rebellion.

Your demeanor and attitude resembled that of a bird trapped in a cage- wings clipped and feathers plucked. It made Astarion feel bitter- in what world were you trapped? You get to live in a nice mansion and go to dinner parties in nice clothes- Astarion just woke up in a TOMB after being in there for WEEKS. How dare a pampered princess such as yourself pretend that you are provided with anything less than perfection.

His bitterness (and biases) hadn’t lasted very long- it lasted for about 5 parties. Your relationship started out with a lot of bickering and miscommunication. Both of your words towards each other were passively laced with venom, but you never complained so he kept being assigned to you. It was never an option really either. Cazador insisted you be a part of every dinner despite Bridril’s grumbling.

The 6th meeting had changed everything. You had not arrived for the party your step-father was throwing and Bridril told Cazador that you were sick before hurriedly rushing off to talk to a local Magistrate. Cazador, naturally, wasn’t satisfied with this explanation so he had sent Astarion to find you.

Astarion had found you sleeping- bloody, battered, and bruised in your bedroom. There was a thick black banded bruise on your neck. The walls were empty, there was only a bedroll in the corner, and the book you had been reading the last time he was there was destroyed and in tatters on the floor. You had woken up when he accidentally slammed the door out of rage and you had looked around disoriented, but skittish and alert all the same. Your eyes softened when you realized it was just him.

You told him you had lost a competition because you hadn’t been sleeping well- too many bad dreams. Bridril had been so embarrassed that he had beaten you for the last several hours before- completely forgetting the mass amount of guests that he had invited to his home that evening. You weren’t allowed to leave your room. Astarion had been wrong. You were a trapped bird in a cage.

It was the one and only time Astarion ever willingly went to Cazador and told him what he had witnessed. You never had a scratch on you again at any future gatherings, but you always looked more tired than the time before. Bridril would boast about all the competitions you had won over the last month- Archery, jousting, mock combats, javelin throwing, etc, etc, etc. The list went on and on- you looked closer and closer to vomiting or keeling over from exhaustion with every activity he named. Life returned to your eyes when you and Astarion went off to dick around.

Escorting you around the Crimson Palace or around the Mansion quickly became his favorite part of those stupid dinner parties or any of the events Cazador threw or went to. You are complex and didn’t grow up in nobility. You despised it, but you were stuck because Bridril had enchanted your mother. You told him she breaks sometimes, but you rarely recognize the woman that pretends to be her nowadays.

You admitted to Astarion you thought he was a pompous bastard when you first met, but he is pretty so you let it slide. Astarion told you that he thought you were a spoiled brat, but because YOU were pretty, he also let it slide.

You had smiled at him, “I guess we are both wrong.”

“But not about being pretty.”

“Oh most certainly not.”

One evening, the two of you had had ‘too much’ fun according to Cazador. You had snuck him into the library and you had sat reading for the entire 6 hour affair. You had asked if it was okay if you sat near him and that eventually led to you leaninging against each other. Astarion had felt like he had been physically, painfully ripped from you when it was time to go. You had kissed Astarion on the cheek before he left and he kissed your hand. Cazador had flayed Astarion for that one night.

Astarion had felt some guilt regarding his resentment toward you after the incident. He knew he wasn’t helping his own situation by giving into your whims and your touch.

If Astarion didn’t know any better, he would think Cazador loved you, but he learned quickly that Cazador’s “affection” for you comes from a place of obsession and possessiveness. You looked like a previous lover of his from a lifetime that Astarion knew very little about. You were different from this woman, but it was not unwelcome in Cazador’s eyes- he has always liked a challenge. He could make you submit.

Cazador had wanted to send someone else to be your escort after you had begun to show an interest in Astarion- this was quickly squashed when you looked like you were going to light Cazador and his entire world on fire if he dared to volunteer another person. He had brought Leon, Astarion, and Dalyria and when Cazador volunteered Leon- you simply said, “No, I want Astarion.”

Cazador was infuriated, but he wanted- no needed you to be happy and to like him. Cazador had told Pale Petras that if he could win your favor, he was sure you’d just willingly come to him and ask to be his consort. Daisy could be thrown out entirely and maybe he’ll have negotiating room. The thought had made Astarion’s stomach turn- he wouldn’t be able to bare watching you become a lifeless consort under Cazador.

However, he always pushed those thoughts away when he was around you so he could stay in a good mood. You would flirt back and forth with Astarion, talk about irrelevant bullshit from the week, the gossip around the mansion, and you both mimicked and complained about how pathetic it was to watch Daisy grovel at Cazador’s feet- a lamb to the slaughter. You referred to the slaughter as being marriage, he referred to the slaughter as Cazador.

It had been a wonderful year of Daisy entirely failing at keeping Cazador’s attention, but she was determined and Astarion admittedly hoped that you may remain a consistent part of his life- the tiniest ray of light to look forward to once or twice a month. And if Cazador marries Daisy? Well, Astarion may never have to be that far away from you permanently.

Then, one night at a party, he had been in the Von mansion’s dining room- Cazador had instructed him to find you. He eventually gave up after he couldn’t and figured you would come to him eventually. Astarion was right, but not in the way he had originally hoped.

You had snuck into the second floor dining area and you locked it behind you. Astarion had been relieved to be in your presence again, but the state you were in… His relief was swallowed up when he had seen how bruised and beaten up you looked. Astarion had surprised you by his presence and you surprised him with your plan. You were escaping and instead of stopping you like a very massive part wanted him too- in spite of Cazador’s command to keep you from leaving the property having been shoved down Astarion’s throat, Astarion helped you tie the rope to propel down the side of the building.

Astarion can still remember the earnest look you’d given him- the way you begged him to leave with you. Gods he wanted to. Astarion remembered all the days that followed after where he kicked himself for not being selfish, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want there to be any way for you to be caught. Astarion knew if he went with you, neither one of you would ever get to know what it means to be free. Cazador would be able to find you through Astarion.

Astarion had told you “no”, struggled to get you to understand between tears, but then you promised him that you would be back. You would kill Cazador and he would be free- you just need him to wait for you. You didn’t know Cazador was a Vampire Lord at the time, but he still believed you. You said give you at least four years- you need time to prepare. He agreed.

Astarion never forgot your promise, clinging to it like a divine wish. There were only 2 more years left- then the Mindflayers kidnapped him.

Astarion had never felt more angry or defeated in his whole life. Astarion would have been free, but now he’s going to turn into a Mindflayer of all things.

Except it had been the best stroke of luck he’d ever had. You were there! In front of him after two years! Your softer noble appearance has been replaced with a scar that shows you dodged just in time to not lose an eye, an Oath of Vengeance sigil plastered to your chest, piercings along your ears, and a large beholder tattoo on your neck. Still beautiful, just far more authentic.

Astarion knows his initial plan to seduce you, sleep with you, and manipulate your feelings was a fucked up one-especially because he knew having you in every way would destroy Cazador without thinking of how it would make you feel. Astarion also acknowledged that a part of him had been doing all this for his own selfish pleasure- no one was in the way of keeping you from getting closer and Astarion didn’t want to have to share your affections with others in camp. And besides, he had been there first.

Oh and Astarion took every advantage of having you to himself. Talking to you, making you laugh, kissing you, being entangled with you while you sleep, drinking from you- fucking you until you only smell of him, leaving bite marks to show you are Astarion’s only.

What Astarion hadn’t anticipated was how much he would also want to be yours. He had been pushing down the feeling for a long time and he always brushed off Shadowheart’s puppy love jokes. Astarion was not smitten with you- he merely knows you and that’s why it’s all so easy. You had shown him simple kindness and you had a history together- you were the obvious choice to go to for protection.

Then the fight with Yurgir happened and Astarion watched you die.

The battle had been hard- brutal even for Astarion’s standards- and the constant bombs being dropped wasn’t helping the situation.

You were up top with Karlach, facing Yurgir head on while Shadowheart and himself tried to pick off the other attackers going after you both.

It had felt like hours, but in reality, what happened next lasted mere seconds.

Yurgir had made you and Karlach lose your balance, but Yurgir was focused on you. Astarion watched in despair as you were flung into the wall, crashing to the ground with a pained scream, a sickening crack, then nothing but blood pouring out of your head. Suddenly, a bomb exploded above you, the rocks began to pour down from the ceiling, and buried you.

The screams that had erupted from Karlach and Shadowheart had snapped him into action. Astarion didn’t remember the rest of the battle, just that it had been a bloodthirsty blur and now he, Karlach, and Shadowheart were clearing the rubble. Astarion had been the one to find you and your face was a bit bruised, the back of your head still seeping with blood, but you looked so peaceful and your skin was so so cold.

When you were completely uncovered, it was evident that you were dead- that this was a job for Withers or a scroll of revivify. Your neck was snapped in half, your limbs were broken- some even shattered. Shadowheart was able to heal and reset your neck so that the whole ordeal was slightly less grotesque. After, he had cradled you in his arms until Karlach and Shadowheart were sure there were no enemies between themselves and the exit.

Astarion had refused to let Karlach take you, holding your broken form against him as his silent tears spilled onto your hushed expression.

You had thankfully not been beyond the point of no return, but Astarion had realized that he needed to have a conversation with you. You are more than an upper hand to him, more than someone fun to tumble around with in his tent- you have somehow become his reason for going forward. Astarion had resigned himself to dying if you weren’t able to be revived. The thought had surprised him after wanting to be free for so long, but would his freedom be worth having if he couldn’t spend it with you? Astarion would rather take his chances and hope you end up together in the same afterlife.

That is what has led him and Shadowheart to having this conversation. Astarion wants to ask you to be something real to each other. Shadowheart had initially been confused, stating that you had “always been real?”, then he told her everything.

Whenever you left Astarion behind, he’d pass the time getting drunk with Shadowheart (if she was left behind). The last time, she had to ask Astarion if his entire conversation catalog is just about you because you were brought up every other word- he had felt incredibly embarrassed, so much so that he had gotten up and hid in his tent.

“Astarion- you never shut up about her, you’ve been following her around like a lost dog since day one- Hells you looked halfway to smitten on the DAMN BEACH!” Shadowheart says with a shrill voice, “What do you mean the entire time up until yesterday that it was all a lie!?”

“It wasn't yesterday only, my favorite wine drunk Sharran” Astarion stated matter-of-factly, “I just… didn’t want to acknowledge that I wanted more. After I first met her, I didn’t see her again for two years- it was bearable, but that had come with the promise of her coming back. She almost didn’t yesterday and I realized that, even after this is all said and done, I don't ever want her to go away. In any capacity.”

Shadowheart shook her head at him, “She’s going to be furious. Heartbroken even.”

“I know,” Astarion says thickly, “but I’m hoping she will forgive me or at least let me prove to her that I’m serious about us.”

You weren’t due back for at least another hour so they had begun working on the speech immediately.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Whatever we are,” you are glaring at him, your voice coated in venom, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”

No. No. No. NO!

Astarion didn’t think it was possible for his heart to feel like it’s been shattered since it barely beats at all.

It’s over?

It can’t be over! It’s barely begun and you only have half of the story. Astarion knows you’ll listen- you’ll see sense. You have to… right?

“Darling, pl-”

“No! I hate you so much!,” you sob into your hands, his whole body hurts looking at you, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

Astarion wants to grab you as you turn around and walk away. He wants to get down on his knees and plead to you- pray to you until you don’t leave him- that you take it back. You’ll give him a chance, even if he loses privileges like getting to hold your hand, cuddle with you at night, or even kiss you for a while, that would be far more bearable than losing you altogether.

Astarion falls to his knees, ruptured and humbled.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart says softly, squatting down in front of him, “it will be okay. She’ll forgive you. She just needs a second, okay? You knew and I knew that this was a toss up to begin with.”

Astarion nodded numbly and got to his feet. Shadowheart gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before going into her own tent and Astarion briskly begins to walk back to his. He makes eye contact with you as Wyll enters your tent and the look on your face when you saw him makes this whole nightmare all too real.

Once he secures the tent flaps, Astarion crawls onto his bedroll and lets the sadness consume him while being surrounded by your scent. This may be one of the worst days he’s ever had in the last 200 years- at least from what he can remember.

If Astarion wasn’t so afraid for your safety, he would have packed up all of his things and headed back to Cazador with his tail between his legs, but he can’t because all that does is put you in danger.

Astarion slowly peels himself off the bed roll and hugs his knees to his chest. He lets himself stare off into nowhere as he lets himself be consumed with the agony and vexation- it’s not like there is any wildlife to go take out his pain on.

Astarion gets up and rolls his shoulders. As much as he wants you, you are done with him and he needs to respect that. Astarion decides he’ll leave you alone, but remain in the background. He’ll stay until you tell him to leave and never return. It will hurt so terribly to not be near you like he was, but he’ll just have to be grateful for the time he did have- the time he took for granted.

Astarion begins to get ready for the long night ahead of him when an open letter on one of his books catches his attention.

It’s addressed to you, torn open and stained with tears. Astarion opens the envelope. He reads the note so many times he feels like he may go on a homicidal rampage. Not only was your mother dead, likely at the hands of your step-father, you are officially considered engaged to be married to Cazador fucking Szarr.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had waited until morning to try to talk to you again-giving up on leaving you alone. He knows that you have a very long cool down period when your feelings are hurt (he has made this mistake less severely in the recent past). If there is any hope of you hearing Astarion out- it would be today.

Except you had already left with Karlach, Gale, and Lae’zel by the time he has finally built up the courage to leave his tent.

Astarion spent the day with Shadowheart and actually attempted to help with camp chores. Astarion bounced ideas off of her, but he didn’t tell her about the note. It felt like that was information for you to share if you wanted and you probably hadn’t intended on him learning about this information in the first place.

Shadowheart looks at him after awhile, a troubled look on her face. Shadowheart turns towards Wyll.

“Hey Wyll, they should have been back by now right?”

Wyll walks over to Shadowheart and Astarion with the same troubled expression.

“Yes, it was just a quick supply run to Last Light Inn before we take a day to recooperate,” Wyll says slowly, “I’m wondering what has held them up this long…”

Their pondering and questions were quickly interrupted by the sound of foot steps racing towards them.

“SHADOWHEART! HALSIN!”

You and Karlach were screaming their names in unison. Karlach is supporting Lae’zel and Gale is slack against you as you fight to keep him upright. The usually wonderful smell of your blood is now making him ill as you come closer to camp.

Across your sides were long, bloody scratch marks- in fact, there are claw marks all along your arms and your armor. One side of your face has a superficial scratch. Karlach appears to be in better shape, but just as scratched up nonetheless.

“We- we were ambushed by an Absolute Cultist,” Karlach exclaims breathily, “a Fist named Marcus. He was trying to bring Isobel back to Ketheric.”

Astarion watches as you help lay Gale down near Halsin and Shadowheart so they can begin to get to work, Lae’zel being laid down next to him. Shadowheart catches your wrist with her hand and gives you a Superior Healing Potion- the soft smile you offer her makes Astarion think he may have a chance.

Astarion walks back towards his tent and toys with the letter on the counter. Does he bring it up? Does he just bring it back to you and not acknowledge it? What would you even want him to do?

The noise outside had diminished as Lae’zel and Gale were recovered enough to be moved and healed in their individual tents- Shadowheart healing Gale and Halsin healing Lae’zel. It must be an early night for everyone. Astarion takes a deep breath and opens his tent flap, ready to confront you- but it looks like he didn’t have to travel very far to confront you.

There you are, cleaned up now, standing in front of Astarion’s tent looking nervous and heartbroken. In his shock, Astarion offers you his hand and gently pulls you inside, closing the flaps behind you.

“What did I do?” you blurt out, tears streaming down your face as fast as words are coming out of your mouth, “I can be useful again. I can do whatever you need me to- be whoever you need me to be.”

You take a jagged, heart wrenching inhale and he can hear you fighting the lump in your throat.

“I can’t do this alone- I just can’t,” you sob and look down at your feet, “I know what I said. I know I’m a fool for crawling back here begging you to keep pretending, but please. I can be what you need me to be, I promise. I’ll be- perfect for you. Please.”

Astarion bridges the gap between the two of you and puts your face between his hands, guiding your melancholy eyes to his.

“Darling, you have always been perfect. I have never needed you to be anything more or less than what you are. You are a Godsend.”

“Then why?” you whisper, “Why would you practice breaking up with me? What did I do?”

Astarion sits there and looks at you with bewilderment- practicing breaking up with you? He was practicing trying to ask to be with you!

He chuckles despite the tears that are slowly spilling from his eyes, “You insult me, my Love. I have no issues with breaking up with people- I think. Never really had the chance and I had no desire to end our relationship yesterday.”

You look at him with regret and guilt in your eyes. You go to move away from him- evidently worried about him rejecting you and hurting you. He moves with you, not letting you go anywhere and he kisses your forehead, one of his hands moving to the small of your back while the other remains on your cheek.

“What I was trying to tell you, my Dear,” Astarion softly whispers, “is that, regardless of my original intentions, my plan failed terribly.”

“How so?” you whisper in return.

“It was all so simple- seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy- instinctive. 200 years of instinct had kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it and all I had to do was not fall for you.”

Astarion traces your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling you into him by pressing into the small of your back. You gasp gently at the contact.

“And that is where my nice simple plan fell apart,” he says woefully, “you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Your eyes search his face for any signs of ingenuity or deception.

“I do too, more than anything,” you say breathlessly, “but what about everything I said yesterday? Everything I said was terrible.”

“It was,” he ponders, then he says teasingly “if my feelings weren’t so hurt and if I wasn’t the one on the receiving end- I dare say I would have been proud of you.”

“Well I learned my dramatics from the best after all.”

“I didn’t know Wyll was such a great teacher- I’ll have to ask him for tips some time,” he quips.

Your laugh lifts the painful fog that has been smothering him in his tent for the last day. Astarion pulls you down with him into his bedroll, you curl up around him and he spreads the blanket out. You lay your head on his chest and he pulls you into him tightly- inhaling your scent and savoring the thrumming of your pulse underneath his finger nails.

“Those nights when we were together,” you ask, peering up at him with worry, “did they not mean anything to you then?”

Astarion freezes before he releases a deep sigh. This may be the part where you change your mind and he is mentally preparing for it- taking account of the way you feel against him just in case this is truly the last time.

“I don’t know what real looks like,” he confesses, “being close to anyone-any kind of intimacy- was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

He feels you flinch at the mention of Cazador.

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how to be with someone- no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I care about you deeply- we can be together without having sex for however long you need,” you pause, “you are so much more to me than sex and I adore you for so much more than just your body.”

“Really?” the shock in his voice is blatant.

“Really,” you say with a smile before laying your head back on his chest.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he says giddily, running his hands through your hair, “ but I know that this, this is nice.”

You hum in agreement and he draws circles on your back. Astarion basks in your presence and sits in the relief that you are back in his arms again.

“Astarion,” you break the silence, “I have to tell you something- I got a letter. It’s not… good.”

“I know, Darling,” Astarion says tightly, “you left it in here. Unfortunately I let my noisiness get the best of me.”

You both sit in the heavy silence that fills the air.

“I’m to be married off to him, Astarion,” you choke out.

“I won’t let him have you, “Astarion snarls, his voice coming out much harsher than he intended.

“But what if there isn’t a choice? What if it would protect yo-”

“No.”

He is looming over you, you are now flat on your back staring up at him. Astarion feels like a coil ready to spring. If it’s ever between him and you regarding who goes to Cazador- he’d serve a thousand life sentences before he’d ever let that vile man so much as look in your direction.

“Astarion-”

“No,” he says between clenched teeth, “you will not sacrifice yourself for me. I don’t care if you marrying Cazador and being his consort would make me mortal again. You will not be his- he cannot have you.”

You look up at him with bleary, adoring eyes, “okay.”

Astarion kisses your trembling lips and he tastes the tears staining them. Astarion pulls away and strokes your cheek softly. He lays back down and you turn towards him, tangling your hands into his hair, gently detangling it. Astarion rests his hands on your hips, using his fingers to delicately adjust you until your legs are entangled in his.

“My mom is dead, Star,” you say remorsefully “she’s gone. She was all alone and probably so afraid. I never even said goodbye before I left her to her fate- I was a coward.”

The hurt in your voice is raw and bleeding- it breaks Astarion’s heart all over again.

“I am so incredibly sorry for your mother and your loss, Little Love, “Astarion says softly, “but you are not a coward. You did what you needed to do. You were always planning on coming back.”

“I was,” you whisper, “I was going to get her first and then you.”

“Foolishly enough,” Astarion chuckles, “I never lost faith in you. I felt like if anyone could do it, it would be you- the glimpse of sunlight amongst the secondhand embarrassment that is Daisy Von.”

You giggle and press your face into his chest- the vibrations fills his chest with warmth. Astarion is so incredibly happy you are back where you belong- here with him.

“I am hardly comparable to the sun,” you say, “I think I’m a candle. Ordinary, accessible, there when you need it.”

Astarion turns over your words in his head- he agrees with the statement but disagrees with the reasoning entirely.

“You are a candle,” he says slowly, “but a candle has always been a luxury to me. It allowed me to sew or read- to have a tiny piece of my humanity back. It was nice to have a break from the dark, huddled around the small flame.”

He pauses, “ I suppose that is why I am so drawn to you. You make me feel like a person again and you are a luxury I never thought I’d be lucky enough to afford outside of those monthly visits.”

“Well, then I promise I will remain here,” you say with adoration, “your humble candle- for as long as you need me.”

“Be careful what you promise, Little Love,” Astarion teases, “if you aren’t careful, you may be stuck with me for eternity.”

“Gods, I hope so!” you say with flourish, “everyone else is terribly boring and does not appreciate my predisposition for shenanigans.”

“How ungrateful!”

“Entirely ungrateful!” you agree.

Astarion pulls you in for another kiss, a grin forming as you gasp at the suddenness of his actions. Astarion kisses the tip of your nose, both of your cheeks, and your forehead. You settle into him and he strokes your hair- your breathing evens out and you are slack against him.

Astarion takes in your sleeping figure and feels another surge of protectiveness enveloping his body. He doesn’t know how accessible his thoughts are to Cazador, but he hopes Cazador hears this one.

You cannot have her- she is mine.

_________________________________________________

Author note- should I do a part three and four with the Cazador confrontation? I’m torn- let me know your thoughts pleaseeeeee

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 #karlach #astarion acunin #astarion x f! reader #astarion x female reader

158 notes · View notes

gglitch1dd · 13 days

Text

Submitted by @lemon-qu33n : Hi sorry to bother u i was just wondering if u had any fic recommendations. Ive read most of yours and i love them! I was just wondering what some of your favorite fics are?

Hey lovey!! You're not bothering me at all. TBH, I swear people maybe its you, have been asking me.

The reason why I haven't been answering is mostly because I really don't have many fic recs OR many favourites. There aren't a lot of writers that cater to my breeding kink or they aren't for the pairings that I like. I did have a few small favourites but most of them are discontinued and a lot of the bigger finished ones, sometimes I don't finish them.

I don't finish them either because the second hand embarrassment gets too big in one scene so I put it down, but I've got a few.

My number one recommendation is the most twisted story I have ever read and I love it so much. It isn't finished but the writing is exquisite and I one day wish to write a yandere/dark fic just like this. Its so disturbing and literally fear inducing, you literally feel like the reader. I love it. Hope it gets finished soon. I'm not a big fan of Katsuki but this one was delicious.

Love of a Hero by TrashPotatoes

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

being a new villain was horrible. Your team left you, and Pro hero Dynamight is hot on your trail. The only questions echoing in your mind are: What does he want? How long does he plan to keep you? And how long do you have before you break completely to his will?

2. This one was amazingly written as well. Kudos to the author!! It's a one-shot though, but honestly, it was a stroke of genius and hopefully it gets a second part to it.

What Once was Mine by Mindninjax

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader x Kirishima Eijiro

Invaders from outer space seek to take over all humans. What happens when you come face to face with the man you love after his assimilation? What happens when he finds out you've been hiding out from the invaders with his best friend who's madly in love with you? And what happens when you realize you may just have feelings for both of them?

3. This one is just pure smut heaven. Indulges the fact that Eijiro is the most HUNG person in the entire of Class A and I love it.

Bad dragon by Makoodles

Kirishima Eijiro x Reader (later chapters include Bakugou Katsuki)

Kirishima Eijirou was a perfect gentleman. He bought you flowers, he opened doors for you, he gave the sweetest goodnight kisses, he ate you out so good he had you seeing stars. You had the biggest, fattest crush on him, and you would be embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the fact that it seemed, at least for the most part, to be reciprocated. The problem was Kirishima never let you touch him.

4. This one was just really cute. I loved it. It was so sweet. fluffy and sweet.

Paws for Panic by Hero234

Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

When chaos strikes and quirks collide, one innocent collision turns pro hero Red Riot into an adorable red puppy! Little does (Y/n) know, that the newly turned pup is none other than her favorite hero, and he understands more than he lets on. Unaware of the puppy's true identity, (Y/n) spends the day pampering her fluffy victim.

5. Fans of Viking Kirishima will love this one. It was amazing and honestly touched my heart in all the right ways, sweet fluffy smut.

Consummation by tothestars00

Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

You and Kirishima have an arranged marriage, however, it is not a loveless one. Now it is the night after the ceremony. And we all know what happens on your wedding night.

6. Another self indulgent on my man Kirishima and why he's every woman's best dream. INTENSE SMUT THO.

XXL by seraphiq

Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

A giant dragon hybrid walks into your adult toy store looking for some help with a problem. A HUGE one.

But those are just like half of my few. Remember I write because sometimes I don't find what I want to read. But people write amazing things!! Pros to these writers!!<3

#submission #glitch recommendation #glitch1d questions #mha fic #mha fic recs

53 notes · View notes

queenie-official · 6 months

Text

Chapter Five: ‘A royal wedding’ Bridgerton Au!Anakin

part 1, 2, 3, 4

a/n: sorry this took a while to get out guys😅 i was hanging out with my bestie since she was visiting home from college😋😋 anyways i ended up cutting most dialogue from this chapter just to focus on the emotional aspect- i hope you guys still enjoy 💅✨

a royal wedding was never a small affair for any kingdom. regardless of wether it was public or made private to the people, they would celebrate the conjunction of a happy couple. which seemed ironic considering most royal marriages where strictly out of politics rather than love. you of all people where very aware of the fact considering your situation. so here you are precisely three hours before the wedding pacing in your undergarments as poor Eleanora tries to help get you dressed.

Padme sat on a stool watching you work yourself into a frenzy, she’d already tried to get you to stop but it was futile. in the end you had managed to tune her out entirely to consumed in your own thoughts and worries to process the world around you.

“y/n if you don’t stop moving you’re going to have to show up to your wedding in your underwear” Padme tried once more to garner your attention. slowing to a stop you turn to look at her and then to Eleanora who had quickly seized action the moment you stopped and began putting on your pannier, fearing if she missed the opportunity you’d be a pacing mess again.

“sorry it’s just hard to sit still knowing that i’m going to be a married women in a few hours…” you sigh out still fidgeting slightly as you stood in place but at the very least Eleanora could work with that. Traditionally there would be five to ten bridesmaids with you right now but as much as you got along with your other ladies-in-waiting you didn’t exactly trust them, so it was just the two you knew you could count on most.

“it’s okay to be nervous i was nervous when i got married to my husband” Padme said in a attempt to make you feel less alone. “yes but you did not have the weight of two kingdoms relying on your marriage” you feel the weight of the day pull you down along with what felt like the thousands of layers you where now wearing. yet still Eleanora was not done as she continued to dress you, a wave of fear that you may pass out from how heavy the dress was rushed through you but you pushed it away feeling as if that would be one of the better outcomes of the day rather then some of the other scenarios your brain had come up with.

“i’ve been thinking about it all, what today is going to be like- what the rest of my life is going to be like…” you add running a hand through your hair that still has to be done. you honestly just wished for the day to be over, then you could rest and breath properly once more. free of stress even for just a moment.

“perfectly normal thing to do your majesty” Eleanora said as she finished the final touches of basting on your engageantes. “i just can’t help but feel like something is going to go wrong” you sigh looking down to your hand and staring at the ring that now weighed down your finger, it was a pleasant weight in your opinion. something about it brought a comfort to you, even if the only reason Anakin had given it to you was out of his mothers request. clearly he had thought it worth something to choose a diamond so personal to the place he was from- or maybe you where reading into it too much.

“there’s no sense in worrying about something that has yet to happen.” Padme counters as she and Eleanora both begin to work on your hair once you take a seat in front of your vanity, you were sat at a horrible angle. unable to sit properly with how tight the corset was, you quite literally could not bend. “i feel like i’ll be better prepared if i do” you say with a small pout to your lips that makes padme laugh. “it’s yet to help you thus far” she points out as you nervously twist the ring on your finger, the only thing you could really use to occupy yourself without moving too much. “maybe i just find comfort in worrying, that’s strange isn’t it?”

“i wouldn’t say strange but i also wouldn’t say it’s normal” well you certainly could always count on Padme for being honest. your whole body ached from the position you where in as pin after pin is inserted into your hair, ensuring that everything stay in place. “by the end of today i’m going to be a wife. that doesn’t even sound real”

“the sooner you are a wife the council will schedule the coronation and Alderaan will have a queen and king again” Padme says happily probably thinking that would make you feel better since you’d finally have the control over the council you needed but all it really did was make you cringe inwardly. “No pressure” you mumble as they finish and you can stand again, feeling just a smidge of relief not having the corset dig into you as much. looking over yourself in the mirror you did have to admit for as much as it was a pain the outcome was beautiful. the dress itself was a work of art, each layer having intricate lace detailing as well as pearls and ribbons sewn in- it reminded you of the porcelain dolls you played with as a child.

“you’ll do great y/n, and we’ll be by your side through it all” Padme said with a smile and you felt yourself relax. she was right you could do this, and if something did happen you knew you had people to fall back on.

less then any minute now and you would be walking down the isle of the church. You weren’t to be seen by anybody until then, that did little to help settle your nerves. Padme and Eleanora where now waiting with the rest of the ton inside the walls of the church, you had no one to voice your thoughts to. no one to help ease you, and you found yourself growing increasingly more nauseous. the heat of the day mixed with the weight of your gown did not make it any easier for you, the earlier fear of passing out coming back in a brief wave before you pushed it down.

there you stood in one of the private rooms awaiting for the Chancellor who’d be the one to walk you down the aisle. you hated it, that he’d be the one to walk you. it felt like a cruel joke in a way, he’d been the one to convince the rest of the royal council along with Barclay of the rash decision for Anakin to be the one you marry. and now here he was being the one to hand you off to him, as much as it irked you the thing that bothered you the most was solely the fact it wasn’t your father. honestly you’d finally accepted the fact this was truly happening but now there was a grief that surrounded it. mourning the fact your parents would not be there to see you.

twisting the ring on your finger, round and round. over and over- you had to admit this was much better than pacing. less effort for sure, less dizzying since you weren’t the one going in circles. circles that matched your thoughts, round and round. you take a deep breath the door to the room opening, turning round to face the Chancellor. you felt your throat dry as you nod to him.

now walking along the corridors of the church heading to the Nave. you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, and for a moment you thought you may actually pass out. thankfully the sound of trumpets and a piano rang throughout the building pulling you back down to reality. the doors in front of you now opening, you could only hope you didn’t look as sickly as you felt. “your majesty” Chancellor Valorum called your attention to him, glancing him over slightly confused only to notice his extended arm. right, it was time- you take hold and force a smile hoping you looked happy enough for everyone to believe you.

you look ahead of you as you both begin walking down the aisle, finally meeting the eyes of your soon to be husband. he stood tall, and was probably dressed the best you’d ever seen him so far- though it’s not like you saw him much to begin with. you decided it best to focus solely on him, the smile on your face becoming a bit more genuine. you may not know him personally yet but you could still admire his looks- it felt a bit wrong initially like you weren’t supposed to like how he looked. as if it would diminish the fact you didn’t see him as a lover, though you guessed you should probably change that line of thinking anyway.

he was truly handsome, nice jawline. pretty eyes, curls that you felt added a boyish charm to him. and then there was his smile, you hadn’t even realized you focused in on it as you now stood before him. his hand extended for you to take so the ceremony could begin. his smile was warm and soft, it calmed you. gently taking his hand as you stand side by side now, facing one another head on. you move your gaze up meeting his eyes, soft blues that where already staring down at you. selfishly you allow yourself to get lost in them, tuning out the world around you not even listening to what the Archbishop spoke.

the only thing that reminded you of where you were and what you where doing was the sound of Anakins voice. “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” he recited the vows the archbishop had just told him which meant it was now your turn. half listening to what the archbishop said before he gave you the very same vows to repeat, nodding to let you know to go. “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” you say with a surprising confidence, you turn your face away from Anakin’s for the first time since the ceremony began.

now looking towards the archbishop as he closed the ceremony. a new ring added to both of your fingers, a wedding band.

Warmth and music, that’s all you felt as you danced a waltz with Anakin. you were actually having fun, he made it easy in all honesty. conversation between you both was flowing naturally and he made you laugh- you where pretty sure he enjoyed making you laugh. there was of course the voice in the back of your head that reminded you it was all for show. that you where both only acting like two people in love for the hundreds of eyes on you. part of you could only hope that at the very least a little bit of it was real, something small and budding that might have a chance of flourishing.

you refocus on the man in front of you, not wanting to sour a good moment with your concerns. allowing him to dance you both into a stupor, song after song. paying no one else a mind, regardless of the situation this day was about you two. a joyous occasion, and for once you did not need to think about anyone else but yourself and each other- for once you did not feel the weight of a kingdom on your shoulders. instead you felt like a normal girl from the ton dancing with a man who had simply asked for a dance, a dance that lasted for hours. of course all good things have to come to an end, and eventually your endless dance came to a halt.

you both walk hand in hand outside along the carpet preparing to speak to each guest at the ball and bid them their farewells. it was a little chilly but as it happened Anakin ran warm, and with him alongside you the chill of the night bothered you no longer.

part 6

Tag list: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss

@bimbo-baggins86 @bby-imasociopath

okay loves🤭 i hope you enjoyed this one, i know the ball scene was a bit short but don’t worry this will not be the only Ball, and the next time there is one it will include a lot more 😋 i just wanted to focus mostly on the wedding portion and didn’t want to draw to far away from that 💋💋 anyways have a great day huns Xx

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #rots anakin #atoc anakin #star wars anakin #anakin x you #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader fluff #anakin x reader fluff #bridgerton au!anakin #bridgerton au!anakin x reader #bridgerton au #bridgerton #queenie’s thoughts xx<3 #Spotify

138 notes · View notes