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alexsoenomel · 7 months

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Agent's Sin (Dean Winchester x Reader smut)

Summary: A handsome FBI agent walks into a bar where you work.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: reader had a shitty childhood and trauma (no details), alcohol consumption, age gap (Reader is 23 and Dean is 41), cheesy flirting and sexy times

Word count: 3.2k

Note: I had a block but not anymore? This happened. Hope you enjoy, I sure did writing it.

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

A Sleazy bar wasn’t your first choice but you had to start somewhere. You were a broke college student with no savings, far away from home and you had to feed yourself. Dealing with drunks was easy, considering your dad was one until he had his last bottle of vodka that killed him one Friday night. The pent-up rage you buried deep inside your soul would resurface every now and then whenever someone decided to be a mean drunk like your late father. You would never get violent, you could never hit a man, but cursing and telling them to leave before you would call Karl to throw some punches – you could and you did that. He was a gentle 6′ 8″ giant; security guard; nicest guy to be around, but a damn beast whenever someone decided to get too touchy with you or just straight up be a dick.

Every day was the same: you would wake up, go to classes and after classes straight to work. You had the same three meals every day, slept for six hours max and didn’t have any time for yourself. The money was okay; tips coming left and right considering the amount of creepy, old men visiting the joint and getting drunk after clocking out. They would tell you how beautiful you were, and you would just give them a fake smile and pour them another one. Your smile wasn’t a million-dollar smile in Hollywood, but it certainly brought in some extra cash. It was exhausting to act like you were flattered by the comments, but considering the state of your bank account, you had no other choice.

Wednesday was coming to an end and you were ready to clock out when a tall, very good-looking man walked in and sat right in front of you at the counter. He was gorgeous; hedgehog-like hair, freckles scattered all over his face like stars in the sky and hypnotizing green eyes. You swallowed thickly as soon as you saw him eyeing you with a smirk on his face. You told Karl to leave early that day. Poor dude almost got stabbed after trying to defend a woman from a very drunk individual who didn’t understand the meaning of the word no.

Men made you nervous, you didn’t trust them, but something was telling you that this one was harmless.

“What can I get you?” You asked. You were a little annoyed since it was almost closing time but chose to stay silent. The bar was empty anyways, hopefully he would have his drink and leave after a few minutes.

“Whiskey. Any kind. Neat,” he said, before he bit his lower lip, his gaze fixed on you.

His voice was deep and raspy, covering your body in goosebumps almost immediately, before your brain told you to snap out of it and pour him the damn drink.

“Coming right up!” You smiled forcefully.

You poured him the best whiskey you had – Rittenhouse Rye Whiskey. You weren’t much of a drinker, but you knew that its distinct and spicy flavor was top notch. You had gotten drunk a couple of times on the job. Dealing with sleazy bastards would sometimes get too much for your brain, so alcohol was the antidote. The handsome stranger immediately took a sip and sighed in satisfaction.

“Rittenhouse?”

“Yeah,” you answered him.

“Good choice.”

“My favorite,” you lied with a soft smile. It wasn’t your favorite. You hated hard liquor. You would only drink it when you wanted to get drunk – no joys in that whatsoever.

Watching him take another sip you noticed a couple of things: he was much older than you; he looked tired and had a small cut on his lower lip. His red flannel was perfectly wrapped around his frame while the rolled-up sleeves made it hard to look away. Correction, your fascination with vascular arms made it hard to look away.

He wasn’t subtle either. His eyes scanned your face; he was searching for something. Feeling like the whole world was watching, you decided to turn around and focus on getting the rest of freshly washed shot glasses polished and ready for tomorrow’s shift. Your cheeks were burning as your hands became slippery; your body felt foreign. You felt your fingers go numb as the shot glass you took slipped and hit the floor shattering everywhere.

“Ugh, crap!” You mumbled.

“Rough day at work?” You heard him say.

“You have no idea,” You turned around to face him. His eyes were dark, illuminating in dimmed lights, still watching you.

You ignored his gaze and went in the back to get a broom and clean the mess you made. When you came back you noticed his glass was empty.

“Another round?”

He nodded and raised his glass for you to pour another one.

“Make it double.”

You registered his demand, but stayed silent. You had a feeling he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. The familiar riff of Don’t Fear the Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult started playing when the whiskey bottle touched his glass. Your head followed the rhythm, moving left and right as you started to hum the lyrics.

“You look too young to know the lyrics of this song,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

“And how old do you think I am?”

“You’re old enough to serve alcohol, so 21?”

“Nice guess, but no. I’m 23.”

The handsome stranger didn’t expect you to be almost 20 years younger than him. His brows shot up in surprise before he said: “Awesome!”

“There’s nothing awesome about being a broke college student dealing with creepy drunks every night, old man!” You said, not really knowing where the old man comment came from. You desperately wanted to spark-up the conversation with the man in front of you, but you were never the one to break the ice and actually talk to strangers. So far this was great.

“You think I’m old?” He asked with a soft smile on his face. He didn’t seem bothered by your comment.

“You are definitely older than me so yeah, kinda.”

“How old?”

“In your early 40s.”

The lines around his eyes coming through whenever he would smile and freckles covering his face were a dead giveaway. He probably once was a beautiful young boy – you thought. Once that innocence was taken away, he grew up, but his beauty stayed intact. He was now a beautiful and tormented man.

“41,” he said.

You then exchanged your names. His name was Dean. He was just passing by after finishing a job in Lincoln.

“What kind of job?” You asked.

His hand went to the right pocket on his flannel and he showed you his credentials. FBI it said.

“Special agent has a nice ring to it,” you commented and decided, since you were closing soon, to lock the front door. “I promise you I’m going to let you go, I just don’t want any new customers.”

“When do you close?”

You took your phone from the back pocket of your jeans before answering: “In about 10 minutes.”

“Have a drink with me then! I promise I won’t tell your boss,” He winked.

You were taken aback by his invitation that sounded more like a demand. You could feel the tension in the air rising; something about Dean was luring you in even though deep down you knew it was wrong. You had been dating your boyfriend, Dan, for sometime now, but it didn’t seem right. You got along just fine, but something was missing. He was sweet, too sweet sometimes, and yet you didn’t have a sweet tooth. You met through a mutual friend and after a few months of boring dates and sex you were over it. Eventually you told him you needed a break from it all, lying through your teeth, saying you wanted some time alone to focus on upcoming exams. You didn’t have the heart to break his. He was sad but decided to respect your decision.

That was two weeks ago. He would text you every day and you would simply ignore it.

A sigh left your lips before you went behind the counter and decided to pour yourself a glass of whiskey.

I’m going to regret this.

“Cheers!” Dean said, lifting his glass.

“Cheers, agent!”

Click!

The hard liquor was burning your throat and you pretended to like it and not show how much it actually hurt. Right now you wanted to get drunk as fast as possible; you wanted to feel comfortable around him even though he was a complete stranger.

“You’re going to get me fired, Dean!” You said and chugged the rest of the whiskey from your glass.

“Woah, you really had a rough day, huh?”

You wasted no time and poured yourself another. Your throat was on fire, but your brain was slowly becoming numb. It was working.

“More like rough life! Cheers!” You lifted your glass and took a sip.

The more you drank, the more details you noticed about Dean. His eyes crinkling, his long thick fingers gently holding the glass, his pink lips pressed against the glass… There was a need waking up inside of you with each sip you took. The liquor was dissolving away your sense of restraint and any sanity you had left; all you wanted to do was to crash your drunken lips on his.

“How rough?” Dean asked you.

“Abusive alcoholic father and a deadbeat mother rough,” you said, now feeling tipsy wanting to sit. You moved an empty wooden crate that was on your left and turned it upside down so you could use it to climb the counter and sit next to Dean. He was fallowing your every move, admiring your legs.

“So, daddy and mommy issues? That is rough!”

You shared a look. Up close, he was even more beautiful. You could see every line on his face, around his eyes, lips, and cheek. Every line had a story and perfectly melted into his skin. You quickly looked away, refusing to show him you were completely under his spell.

“Do you work in the Behavior analysis unit? Can you tell I'm chronically searching for approval and acceptance from people but at the same time not giving a shit and trusting no one?”

You weren’t familiar with the branches of the FBI; you just watched too many Criminal Minds episodes.

Dean chuckled. “Not really.”

His hand suddenly went to your thigh as your legs were dangling from the counter. Your heartbeat was in your throat, but at the same time you felt a sense of calm. You knew it was wrong; he was twice your age; FBI agent and yet this was the most excited you had ever been. Your soon to be ex didn't even cross your mind. Something about this man was pulling you in and not letting go.

You finally got the courage you needed to look at him and not look away. He seemed sober, more sober than you at least…

“Your hand is on my thigh, agent,” you finally said, forcing the last drop of confidence out of yourself. Your walls were crumbling and your desires were resurfacing.

“Tell me to fuck off then,” he suddenly stood up, equalizing the height difference. His other hand went to your other thigh as he gently pulled your legs apart, standing between them. His face was inches away from you, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t look away.

“You make it hard to, though,” your skin was on fire, burning for the man you met almost two hours ago. You only knew his first name, his occupation and that he had an awesome taste in music. He was a stranger and yet felt so familiar.

Your words weren’t necessary anymore. You knew what you needed and realized he, too, craved the same thing. The life he was living was exhausting and full of lies; he wanted to forget about his fake badge and lies that he told over the years. He cupped your face with his hands and gently pressed his lips on yours. It was a soft kiss at first, which quickly deepened and grew with lust and want. You wrapped your hands around his neck pulling him closer as your legs were wrapped around his torso. You wanted him impossibly close. Light groans and moans filled the bar as you didn’t break away until breathing became a necessity. Panting and red around your mouth from his stubble, you rested your forehead against his.

“I’d invite you to my place, but I don’t think my roommate would appreciate me coming home with an FBI agent.”

His eyebrows went up before he asked: “Right here?”

“If you knew how much puke I had to clean just this week…”

Dean’s nose wrinkled slightly. He chugged the rest of his whiskey, feeling a pleasant burn in his throat.

“My car! Now!” He demanded, taking your hand as you jumped off the counter.

You unlocked the door and saw the only car that was parked, right in front of the bar – black, shiny and beautiful Chevy Impala. You hadn’t seen cars like this for a long time.

You opened the back door and went in. Immediately, you were hit with the smell of leather. Dean followed you and shut the door behind him.

“Nice ride, agent!” You commented and decided to get up and straddle him. He wasn’t protesting, letting you settle on his lap.

“Thank you!” He sounded almost proud.

You kissed him, feeling the exhale through his nose on your face before he opened his mouth giving you permission to deepen the kiss. The taste of whiskey was still in his mouth and in a strange way you felt like you were getting drunk and losing control with each and every kiss. Dean’s hand went into your hair, pulling it lightly and making knots you’d have to take care of tomorrow. You kissed for a while, your hands roaming, desperately searching for naked skin to touch and explore. Naturally, as you started to grow impatient, your hips started to move, grinding against him. You could feel him getting hard underneath you; he was bigger than you expected. When you couldn't breathe, your lips moved lower, kissing his neck and your fingers started to unbutton his shirt.

"Too bad you're not wearing a suit," you told him, between kisses. "I bet you look hot as fuck while chasing the bad guys."

Dean chuckled at your comment, not wanting to admit he was flattered. He undid the bottoms of your jeans and his two fingers slid inside feeling your already wet cunt dripping with pleasure. His two fingers slid inside with ease. Your lips parted as you moaned his name. "I bet you look hot as fuck moaning my name, sweetheart."

This man was different. His scent, a light mix between pine trees, whiskey and leather; eyes so green you would think they were little gemstones staring at your soul in the dark; his age…It was a fatal mix, worth potentially getting fired or hurt for.

After taking your sweet time to unbutton his shirt, you could touch his bare skin. His fingers were still there, between your legs, slowly pumping in and out, but you wanted more.

"Fuck me!" You whimpered. "Please!"

"Needy!" He said, placing kisses above your jaw.

"Desperate," you corrected him.

It has been too long since you last had good sex. Too fucking long. You forgot what it was like to orgasm without your favorite toy. Your soon to be ex did absolutely nothing for your body and soul. No matter how hard you tried, how much you talked – he just wasn't working for you.

Dean liked the words coming from your mouth, so he decided to stop playing games. He pulled his hand out of your pants and licked his fingers clean.

"Almost as sweet as you," he exclaimed.

You felt your cheeks burn. He took off your shirt and soon after, your bra. Your chest was completely bare but you weren't worried about someone seeing you. It was dark outside and the only light that you had were from the street lights surrounding you. He placed gentle kisses on both of your breasts before he told you to lay down. You said nothing and did what he told you. He took off his shirt before pulling your pants down, taking them off without you lifting your hips.

"Damn baby, you're gorgeous," he said in awe.

He was the one to talk; his upper body was carved by the highest of the Gods and his angelic, yet rough facial features made it hard to not stare. The universe created Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian man a couple of centuries later and sent it straight to you. The man undoubtedly had perfect face and body proportions.

"You're making me blush, agent."

He took off his jeans, struggling to find room before kissing you again. It was getting cold in the car since it was late October but his body was now pressed against yours, keeping you warm and safe. Your hand went to feel his fully hard cock before letting him put it in you.

"Please!" You begged again, feeling the desperation in your voice, but not being embarrassed about it.

"Okay, okay!" He whispered, finally ready to give you what you want.

He moved your panties to the side, being too eager to take them off, and let his cock free as he lowered his boxers. Without warning he entered you, stretching your walls and making you gasp in a weird mix of pleasure and pain. He was big, so getting used to his size was going to take a couple of seconds. Your fingers dug into his shoulder blades as he started to move slowly.

"Am I hurting you?" He asked worriedly.

You whispered a no and kissed him as he started to move again. Soon enough, pleasure took over completely and you couldn't leave the sound of his name out of your mouth. His kisses became messy, slowly losing control over his body and movements as his pace became frantic. His right hand wrapped around your neck putting just enough pressure for you to completely fall apart.

The air in the car was hot and stuffy, and steam started to form on the windows. The sound of your wet cunt taking him over and over again mixed with Dean's moans and grunts; you knew you were going to cum.

"I- I" you tried to speak but nothing could come out.

Dean's eyes locked with yours in a moment, both completely consumed with each other…

"Come on baby!" He told you, his voice raspy and sexy. You couldn't get enough of it.

Soon enough you came all over his cock, biting his shoulder, trying to muffle the scream of pleasure. He hissed but didn't say anything as he came soon after. You felt his hot seed filling you up completely as you thanked the universe you were on birth control.

You were both panting, sweaty and speechless. Dean rested his forehead on yours, trying to calm down.

"So…can I get your number?" He asked.

"Only if you wear a suit the next time we see each other."

"Roger that!" He smiled.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #supernatural fic #dean winchester #spn drabble #spn fanfic #spn fluff #supernatural fluff #spn fic #dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean x reader smut #dean x reader

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rottingpirate · 1 year

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Hello again! It's the anon who sent the deep voiced mreader ask and I want to thank you so much for writing the headcanon! I love it! Is it okay if I request for the same hc but with Alejandro and König with the addition of mreader speaking Spanish and German in his deep voice?

Hope you have a merry Christmas!

You're welcomee <3

Alejandro Vargas + König w/ M!reader who has a deep voice

Warnings: mentions of voice kink

Alejandro

Sucker for your voice

Just loves how deep and raspy it can get

At first he found it hot but later he realizes that it's kind of cute

If it couldn't get any better, you speak spanish as well

Needed a moment to calm down

Especially in the mornings when your voice is lower, whispering into his ear

He was a bit fascinated with your already deep voice but goddamn boy, he didn’t even know it could get lower

"Mi vida" "Amor" "Tesoro"

Just get very poetic with it and he's on his hands and knees

He obviously acts cool when you're around but once you leave he's all giggly and shit

Migh've developed a..uh..you know

voice kink

You just awakened something in him

Your pride can just shoot up because he likes your voice

König

He was a little iffy at first, but somewhere along the lines, he fell in love with it

In the beginning he was a little shy, but he managed to tell you how much he loved your voice

It's just soothing and relaxing

The fact that you can speak German makes it 100% better

Just calling him sweet nicknames while cuddling or whatever

"Liebling" "Engel" "Mein stern"

Looks like an lovestruck puppy

Pulls up an asmr video "You should try that, please"

Really tries to make your conversations longer, so that he can just listen to you talk

Will make you read "A la recherche du temps perdu" by Marcel Prous, no matter how boring or long it is (It has like 4215 pages)

He just feel so at peace while listening to you talk

It's easy to scare him with it too

When he wakes up at night and you wake up too, scaring him with that deep as fuck voice

#alejandro vargas #könig #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod x male reader #x male reader #könig x male reader #alejandro vargas x male reader #cod x reader #headcanons

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krypticcafe · 4 months

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May I request call of duty boys with an autistic s/o? As an autistic person I think they’d all be very helpful with their partner and their needs. Their partner is having a bit of a rough day and they’ve gone nonverbal and just need the comfort of a safe person so they can unmask. (I totally hc Ghost as autistic so maybe he and his partner just vibe in silence together)

COD:MW boys w/an autistic partner

rating: general

character(s): GN!Reader, John Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo Parra, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Hound

word count: ~5.2k

warning(s): possible inaccuracies, mentions of autism symptoms, mentions of masking, lotsa comfort 'n fluff

a/n: as per usual, feel free to tell me if I've misrepresented or misinformed. I'm undiagnosed, but extremely certain that I'm ND so I've included experiences I found that I share with autism symptoms :] On the other hand, idgaf about realistic military limits on medical issues and medication, this is literally fanfiction and not that deep.

beta reader: ChordataUtopia on ao3

Price

I'd like to think with his time in the military, he's probably had acquaintances, friends, or subordinates who are on the spectrum, so at the very least, he knows what to expect and has a few mental notes on it.

So it's not a problem for him when he sees it on your file.

It's when you become a thing that he actually starts researching about it, and really in-depth, the same way he would when doing background checks.

He's a pretty fast talker, so you have trouble keeping up with all the info he throws at you sometimes. At first, he thought you weren't paying attention, but then he realized you just had issues trying to process so much at once, which is vastly different when compared to how he can take in a bunch at a time. He's learned to be more concise, and surprisingly, it's helped some of the others on the team, too.

One of the perks of dating a captain is getting to know the plans and schedules ahead of everyone and being one of the first to know about any last-minute alterations.

Whenever you're starting to feel overstimulated on base, Price has an eye out for you and calls you to his office. It's a subtle and easy way for him to take you out of a situation and pull you somewhere safe. After all, no one bothers to question the captain's orders.

Although the military doesn't really have quiet rooms, the two of you found that his office is the only place aside from your shared quarters where you can feel safe and sound. Everyone respects Price's office space, so it's always nice and tranquil there. He's used to this one-on-one time so he keeps your favorite drink in a mini-fridge, something for you to fidget with quietly, and an extra comfy chair for you, along with medication if you need any.

Turns out, the voice of a captain is also helpful for keeping you grounded. It isn't aggressive, it isn't demanding, it's firm. He helps keep you in the moment when you feel your mind drift from your body, whether in private or on a mission. He's also direct and doesn't beat around the bush, so misunderstandings are rare.

If you take medication, it used to be difficult for you to get it restocked. Healthcare system and all its perks. But now, after dating John, strangely enough, it seems you get it on time almost always and hand-delivered by him. Hm.

His favorite thing to do is to listen to your rambles while he does his paperwork. You're worried you're bothering him, but he just responds with, "Not at all, love. I wouldn't trade this moment for the world," and tells you to continue discussing whatever you are particularly interested or fascinated about.

John doesn't tell you, but he sometimes wishes he had more paperwork just to spend more time with you in the office.

Gaz

Probably has had neurodivergent friends or family, and doesn't know a lot about the matter, but he's open-minded from the start.

He's a quick learner, too. Not just in combat but with your relationship. He notices your little habits, what makes you tick, and what keeps you in the zone.

And thank whatever being above that you were blessed with such a patient man. If you're having difficulties wrapping your head around a concept or directions, he'll explain it in a way you can understand. Sometimes, people talk too fast, too quietly, or too vague. Gaz finds that there's no shame in it.

One of the things he notices is that sometimes you mimic how he talks, like certain phrases or words. Especially if you're non-UK. Some of your repeated phrases are "oh my days", "cheers", or "takin' the piss". Fluent accent and all. He doesn't find it insulting or strange, he thinks it's actually pretty cute and doesn't poke fun at you for it.

Usually, he's not a fan of when people get too chatty with him, but it's you. He can't find himself getting irritated when you're talking so passionately about your special interest, latest hyper fixation, or whatever got to you because he knows you're being your genuine self and not talking out of your ass.

Your eyes light up, you're no longer using the tone of a soldier with all its formalities, yet you articulate the more and more you converse with him. Your hands even start to fidget and flap when you get deep in discussion.

"Keep going, love. I'm listening." He smiles at you from the corner of his eye, reorganizing his locker. It's meaningful to him, being the one person you trust to listen and engage when you need a break from masking.

He's got an eye for when you're having an out-of-body experience, helping you keep your head in missions without belittling you for feeling elsewhere.

Overstimulated or overwhelmed? Don't worry, he's got you. Kyle has his headphones on him a lot of the time whenever he can. When he sees your eyes looking in the distance or darting around while you feel your skin itch and your mind's a blur, he pops them on you and turns up a playlist he's made with your favorites.

In other cases, he's either scouting a spot for you to retreat to or verbally guiding you until you can unwind.

Sometimes when he can't immediately stick to your side or assist you, he'll take his cap and put it on you with a gentle smile. It's his way of saying that he notices you and to hang on just a bit, he'll be right there as soon as he's done, love.

Ghost

Autistic Ghost truther right here!!

I like to think Ghost always suspected he wasn't neurotypical, and would eventually get diagnosed. But ever since meeting you, it's only sped up his realization. Especially when he saw the difference between whether you're masking or not. It really hit him like a barrel of trucks that day.

He came to you first about it, trying to play it off as curiosity and just wanting to be more informed, but even if you aren't well-versed with body language or small cues, you could just tell that the gears were starting to turn in his head.

While you knew numerous factors led to your blossoming relationship, you like to think the trust you two built after you helped him come to terms with his autism kickstarted it all.

You quickly realized how much of it has gone unnoticed, how eerily good he was at masking himself. He claimed he was more comfortable with the 141 and that outside of that, he was just fulfilling his role as lieutenan- oh my god, you're right.

He gets ticked off when there's a change in plans if a last-minute decision is made but he bites his tongue about it, despises it when people aren't straightforward, prefers bluntness, sits in the far and darker corners of the mess hall where it's calmer, or just avoids it altogether and eats in his room, doesn't understand when people think he's being rude or mean, the list goes on.

There is... a lot to uncover.

But it's all worth it for the little things.

Like when you two created a subtle way to tell each other "I love you" when the words won't come out, three little taps on the inside of the wrist.

Or when you both need to unwind after a particularly triggering mission and you just can't articulate yourselves. No one else notices it and passes it off as you two just being quieter than you usually are, but the two of you catch onto each other like wildfire.

You'll retreat into your quarters and sit on the bed, back-to-back in the dark, where Simon can pull off the mask to just breathe and you can just feel. A comfortable silence lingers in the air while your hearts sync until one of you breaks the silence.

"Absolute trainwreck that one was, huh?" One of you dryly chuckles.

And the other mutters back, "You can say that again."

There's this one particular memory he has of when you surprised him with a gift one day. He wasn't much of a taker than a giver, but seeing how giddy you were, he couldn't decline.

Opening it, he was surprised with a custom butterfly knife, an obsidian-black handle with silver engravings of skulls, thorns, and roses, along with his initials on the blade. You remembered his interest in knives and how he tended to mess with them as a stim, so you bought him a knife he could flip around smoothly and quietly while still keeping up appearances.

With the way he looked at it, someone would've assumed you just proposed to him with a diamond ring or something.

You expected him to put it in his collection, but he uses it a lot in his spare time.

He keeps it in top condition and never leaves it unless he has to.

Soap

He's heard of it, met people with it, though he doesn't quite understand it yet. Johnny's tried to look into it but finds most sources sound contradicting to each other or just don't make sense compared to the experiences you describe and the ones that others have.

You tell him it's fine, you appreciate the effort, and it's okay if he occasionally asks questions when appropriate.

If there's one thing about him, it's that he's quick and creative when it comes to accommodating you. He carries extra earplugs with him on missions and comes up with signals for you to use when you have trouble expressing, so it's easier for him to figure out what you need (turns out he's a visual learner, too).

He makes it ridiculously easy to unmask, too, always so happy to see you, to listen, to talk—he just loves you so much. Something about his energy and how he can slowly and gently open you up like a treasured, well-kept, and well-loved book with just that sweet tone of his.

Sometimes when you're stuck in your head, he pretends he's performing surgery to remove your brain or something, making little silly little noises and tracing your forehead like he's cutting it, a little pop! and he's all "Now you cannae think 'bout anythin'", and it's so stupid but works.

You find the best thing he can do is just hold you. He's got this firm hold that makes you feel like you're wrapped in a warm blanket and a strong heartbeat that reverberates through you. You'd tend to count the beats in your head and just allow yourself to be absorbed in his embrace.

It's all just a few of the numerous things he's done to improve your relationship.

But you have to be real with him for a moment.

You guys know that one tiktok audio? The one that's like:

"I ain't sure what HD is but the doctor said I got 80 of them bitches! WOOO—"

Yeah, Johnny, don't think we haven't noticed.

One day, he lightheartedly jokes that he relates to some of what you go through and that maybe he's autistic, too.

"Well... you're not too far off."

"Haha, what?"

So turns out the MacTavish family has a whole history of ADHD and ADD. His family's always had an inkling, but Soap's natural personality just really blurred the lines.

To be honest, it was so obvious. The way the two of you would parrot each other and your teammates, how he banged his fists on tables whenever he got really excited or antsy, couldn't stand still when he'd constantly be shifting his weight between his feet, popped his lips to break silence, all the impulses that get him in trouble a lot of the time, random bouts of eery calmness, his hyperfocus when working on a new project, the time you caught him unconsciously imitating the sound of the heart monitor after he nearly blew himself up in an accident, you get the idea.

Soap's love language, from physical affection and words of affirmation, is gift-giving! The moment he sees something that reminds him of you, what you like, or something you've been talking about a lot lately, he gets so excited to see your reaction when he surprises you with it and is practically bouncing with anticipation.

Definitely made you cute little cue cards with silly doodles, and even some with Scottish slang. He was especially proud of these.

Roach

He gets you. He really, really, really gets you.

Roach, are you perhaps neurodivergent?

You wouldn't be surprised. You figured he was ever since he explained how he wasn't Deaf or completely mute. He just said he felt nonverbal a lot of the time, selectively mute. That was something that really clicked with you.

In fact, you found he was the easiest to talk to about it. He didn't have many questions other than asking what made you uncomfortable and if you wanted him to teach you some ASL.

You said yes, of course.

Before you were a couple, you were best friends. Practically inseparable with energies complimenting each other. No one was surprised when you guys became public, much to your own surprise.

Learning ASL has been one of the most helpful things Roach has done for your guys' relationship; you don't feel as isolated in your nonverbal state. It also helps clear up misunderstandings with the rest of the team sometimes when one of you can communicate on the other's part. You still struggle with some expressions periodically, but you're pretty fluent!

There is so much open communication in your relationship, it's just a fresh breath of air, holy shit. But the negative part to that is when there is a misunderstanding, it can get a little messy, not horrible, but just kind of overwhelming for the both of you where you need to take a breather and just tune out in your heads for a bit before you can approach each other again.

Overstimulation comes more easily to you than it does to Roach, so you often find yourself either going to him or him leading you somewhere more private where you can quietly wind down.

On a more positive note, you guys have the most energetic of conversations. You'll both be spewing out hyperfixes, random thoughts, and interests, some of Roach's being random facts about zoology or history facts (his favorite are the world wars, unsurprisingly).

"The Egyptians believed that the most significant thing you could do with your life was die."

"Sick."

You two jump from subject to subject, then return to one only to forget what you were supposed to talk about, then move on to something else before remembering what was supposed to be said, and then dropping the conversation altogether like nothing happened.

The entirety of Task Force 141 and SpecGru has given up on trying to interrupt these moments for any reason besides work, it's been proven fruitless. You guys are simply too far in the deep end, there is no saving from hyperfix hell.

Gary's also like a crow, he memorized your interests and whenever he sees something related to that, like a trinket when he's out and about, he'll buy it for you. You two do this to the point where it's kinda getting cluttered in your quarters...

Alejandro

Yeah, I'm afraid he's a little undereducated about it, growing up in an environment with a stigma over mental health issues type of deal.

Don't worry, he's not bigoted by any means, just confused about what it's exactly about because of how much misinformation is out there. I think there was a time when he might've believed in some stereotypes and acted rudely about it, except that was when he was really young and dumb.

When he told you this, it broke your heart, but for a different reason. You told him it wasn't his fault, he was raised in an environment that provided little awareness on the issue, that's just how many people are raised. As much as you hate to admit it, that's just how the majority of the world is. What matters is that he acknowledged he was wrong, and that he was just a kid.

"You're too kind, mi sol," He murmurs, pressing a kiss on your knuckles.

"And you're too hard on yourself, love." You respond, cradling the side of his face with a smile.

Unintentionally or not, meeting you led him to realize he might have his own difficulties with his mental health. After all, being colonel would take a toll on anyone, and after the events involving the Shadows? He needs a break above anyone else in the Vaqueros.

Much like Price, he's learned to create as much of a supportive environment for you and the rest of his soldiers with a general no-tolerance policy on ableist bullshit.

Sometimes, it can be a little challenging for him to reach out to you or vice versa, largely because of his busy schedule and job as commander. He can't indulge you as much as he wishes. Patience was something the two of you had to learn and overcome in your relationship.

But if you really need him, or if you're having a difficult time while he's preoccupied, you give him a few taps on the shoulder, and he gives you a nod mid-conversation with a subordinate. At the end of the day, he comes and finds you, and asks you a few questions you can answer with a simple nod or shake of your head. You trace a heart into his palm, a straightforward reminder, and he smiles and kisses your forehead.

It takes a while, but he carefully unravels you with gentle comfort, just holding you, and taking your time. He's not the most patient man, but for you, he certainly tries. When you finally start returning to yourself, no longer the soldier or the "different one". Just you. He greets you with a kiss and listens to whatever you say for the rest of the night.

It's worth the wait, so long as you're in his arms.

Rodolfo

Rudy has a similar situation to Alejandro. The only difference is that it never quite sat right with him as a kid. Ultimately, it led him to educate himself and seek out actual resources.

He could never understand the stigma, too naive as a child only to find out the truth when he was older. Somehow, it hurt him too, maybe because of how he shared some qualities.

He figured he wasn't autistic, but he knew he wasn't neurotypical either, tiny impulses here and there constantly proving him right, ways that he didn't connect with other people. Meeting you had only confirmed it for himself.

At first, he never noticed it, you were usually masking in front of them all anyway. But when he started to spend more time with you in between missions and get to know the real you, he started to see how vastly different you were when he first met you.

The comment slips out and he apologizes, but you laugh it off as his friend and closest confidant. It's hard to really put it into words, but he understands, he always does. You learn that early on in your relationship.

Instead of words, he uses gestures to console you. Acts of service is his kind of love language. Helping you with your work, doing all the chores you couldn't bring yourself to do that day, the simple things. Mugs of warm drinks, a little mazapán or gansito, a treat to quell your mind a little. A small nostalgic snack break always helps him in hard times between all the work, so he hopes you enjoy them, too. Expect him to join you whenever he's feeling a little out of it.

You worry that it feels like an excuse to hog him to yourself when it isn't. He's always willing—even if it was a ploy, he wouldn't mind it all that much. Seeing you ease up makes him come out of his shell, too. It's something good for both of you.

"Need a refill, cariño?"

You shake your head, "No, just... stay? Please?"

"Of course." He beams in a way that has your heart nearly skipping a beat despite how long you've been together. Maybe you should marry him on the spot.

There are moments when he holds you that you hear him humming his favorite songs. You tell him he has a wonderful voice, but he bashfully denies it. However, it doesn't stop him from humming, not when it helps bring you back down to earth or get a compliment out of you after some silence.

König

Doesn't exactly know what it is, thought it was like a bad trait or something because someone called him autistic once as a kid, but in a derogatory way. Made you go 'yikes' and explain the whole thing. He apologized for his initial shock when you told him you were autistic and felt disgusted when he realized why he was called that back then.

He's quick to pick up on your cues, mood differences, or how you process things. After all, he gave himself a trained eye from all that sniper training.

The first time you were nonverbal around him, he was slightly worried. It was after an arduous mission that had you completely knackered, mentally and physically. He thought you were in a state of shock or something, and he was about to call a medic before you dragged him away and had to physically force him not to. Later, you had to explain to him what happened again, but he was still a little concerned for your wellbeing.

You're well aware and so is he that he probably has ADHD and social anxiety, but to be honest, you wouldn't actually doubt the idea that he could be autistic either.

You both noticed it when you were ranting about how annoying some of your habits were, whether it be an inability to properly express emotions, an inability to understand social cues, the need to mask around others, or how much certain sensations bothered you when they shouldn't because it's so stupid that they do. He'd often respond with, "Oh, I do that too!" or "Yeah, I have that sometimes." At first, you thought he related to some of the lighter symptoms shared with people in general, but then it came to a point where he related a bit too much that you had to let yourself think about whether your boyfriend just happened to have the double whammy of ADHD and autism.

Chances were likely.

One thing that surprised König when you two discussed how he could help comfort you is lying on top of you.

"But Schatz, I'm too big, I would crush you, like a weight or something."

"Oh sweetheart... that's the point."

Genuinely, he's a wonderful makeshift weighted blanket with the great addition of being your boyfriend. It's the perfect distraction for your mind to focus on something and someone else—the weight of his body weight distributed on yours, your breathing synced with his, his heartbeat against your chest, and just having someone to hold.

Loves it when you start parroting and picking up some of his phrases, especially the German ones. He'll ignore the pronunciations if they're bad, but he's just gleaming with pride when he sees you taking out an enemy and spitting German curses at them the same way he does. Practically makes goo-goo eyes on the battlefield.

Horangi

Same thing about being brought up in an environment that isn't the most informed nor supportive about neurodivergence. He's not the proudest of his younger self, and he knows he's made some mean remarks about it as a dumb kid, but he's long since moved on. Getting out into the world has taught him to grow more tolerant and understanding, but he's still ashamed of the ignorant stuff he did.

He worries that you'll hate him for it, despite it being ages ago. He's used to being reminded of his mistakes and failures, such as his gambling addiction and delinquency.

What he struggles with most is trying to find a way to comfort you or help you unwind. He's not great with words since he's worried about screwing something up, so the most he can do is pull you somewhere the two of you can be alone and give you space.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't try. He tries several things, like keeping your favorite snacks on hand, doodling on your skin with his markers to distract you, getting some music playing, earplugs on hand, and stuff that he knows he can't royally fuck up.

You propose that he creates some cute cue cards for you so that it helps him figure out your needs, and you don't miss how he tries to hide his eagerness. He presents you with the cards all connected on a metal ring, red, blue, and black doodles with words in both English and Korean, acting like he just did it on a whim when the amount of care and love put into it is obvious.

One of the cards only has a single phrase on it in Korean, and you already knew it. You still asked.

"Hong-jin, what does this say?"

"Ah- uh... 사랑해요 (saranghaeyo)."

"Mind telling me?"

"... good job?"

"Uh-huh... so why are there so many hearts?"

"Because you think I did a really good job..?"

Again, he's not great with words. That includes letting you know that he wants to be told "I love you" more.

Lightheartedly calls you a nerd once when you ramble about your hyperfixations or special interest, only for you to fire back with a comment about his K-pop collection of albums, signatures, fancams, photocards, lightsticks...

"That's not the sam- no... dammit, no."

Face the music, Horangi. Your special interest is K-pop and each new album is just another hyperfix. You're just as much of a nerd.

Hound

Autism? Okay, but the fuck does that have to do with you blasting the enemy with an RPG right now?

Honestly, he thought you just had some strange quirks and issues. Maybe you were like him. He figured he was just "broken" in some way, that they were "weaknesses" of his. The more he spent time with you, the more he questioned why he is the way he is.

Yet he doesn't judge you because he most likely knows how it feels to be in that position, and he wants to be the support he doesn't have but wishes he had.

Actually, that's the real glue of your relationship—how easily Hound adapts to your structures and needs without question. If it conflicts with theirs, they won't hesitate to directly address it and work it out with you. You return the same energy and reassure him he's not alone in feeling this way. Hell, you make him feel normal for once.

Both of you have issues verbalizing, so you'll be tracing hearts, question marks, checks, and x's on each others' palms. They even teach you Morse code to tap little phrases. You never need to worry about miscommunication if you're direct with them. They're always direct with you, and they hate when people aren't specific.

Hound's not much of a talker, but they're definitely a listener, and they could honestly listen to you talk for days. If someone dares to interrupt you or criticize you for talking too much because he "seems like he's not interested" and you're "taking up his time", he shoots them a glare to fuck off.

Most likely, your interests will become his interests, too.

You notice they mask almost constantly but act much more natural, tender, and less structured when they're around you, showing a side of themselves with a variety of emotions no one else would ever see either. More human, and less war dog.

You both like to be alone, but alone together. Hound used to ask you to leave him alone whenever he needed to self-isolate but started to let you stick around when they needed a moment. The two of you are much more physically affectionate and even more talkative, and you both value the trust you grant each other to show the more vulnerable side of yourselves. You guys are woven like thread; the moment one unravels, so does the other.

Sometimes, all it takes is a weak smile from you or his hands interlocking with yours to find the calm in the storm.

a/n 2: I'm back, teehee :3

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saradika · 9 months

Text

— BLEED FOR ME | part iii

[masterlist]

mand’alor!vampire!din djarin x f!reader

rated e - 2.4k

haunted hoedown prompts: vampire!au + “i would burn the world for you.” + vampire has a taste for specific blood + revenge + (one-sided) enemies to lovers (+ 1 to be revealed!)

tags: vampire!au, drinking blood, reader has scar on shoulder, mentions of death, shared memories, light angst, references to seduction, sexual innuendo and thoughts, references to violence

The days until the winter solstice tick down. Early Autumn days start to cool at night.

You sleep under the last warmth of the sun, with windows drawn open after he leaves. The canopy is wrapped around your bed, letting in the afternoon breeze but mimicking the darkness.

And still, you feel adrift. That funny feeling is still settling in your stomach. Rolling with the sway of your step as you follow at the Mand'alor's - Din's - heels.

No longer seating across the room in the throne room. Now next to him, in a golden seat that matches his silver one.

Listening as he conducts his business. Trades and agreements, settled firmly and carefully. A disagreement, broken up without violence.

It’s fascinating.

But it feels... wrong. Your own task seeps into the honor of being at his side, polluting it. You're expected to enjoy it, to look happy, and it's become all too easy to forget what happened - why you were here.

Too wrapped up in the quiet questions he asks, in those moments of dusk and dawn. Half truths becoming whole as you guard slowly lowers. As you begin to learn about him, as well.

Things he tells you. Things you pick up, absorbing greedily without thought.

It feels like a betrayal, later.

How could you forget what happened? How could you forget your promise?

His kindness only extends because you are physically keeping him alive. You should have ended things by now.

But, you haven't.

The guilt gnaws at you. Seeping into your dreams, into those moments of connection, when your eyes can't help but close.

The images so much more vivid, now. Almost a tangibility to them - the quick, blurred edges coming into focus. Repeating, growing longer.

So much seems to focus on that night. You think it's because it still haunts you. Replaying how the shouts had awoken you. That startled feeling as you crawled out of bed.

The shadows on the walls, the weak and watery grey sky. Soon turning red, and then black - with flame and smoke.

A glint of gold. Your grandmother's necklace, lying on the bedside table. A photo of their wedding day inside, painted with such care.

Something you wish you could have saved - one of the few relics from your family, a gift from when you had left them to find your purpose.

You had always wished for a love like theirs. A fated connection.

There’s a throb as you remember the collision - something solid that knocked you to the ground. Fingers coming back sticky, your mouth tasting of copper. The visions always swim, then.

Parts you've never been able to remember, before. Always growing dim, until you'd been woken up under the tree, and it was over.

But lately, there's more. As if you're outside your own body. The limp sway of your arm, dangling as you were carried. The murmur of a low voice, though you can’t make out the words. Dark eyes looking down at you, almost brown in the morning light.

There's a sharp edge of a knife that you always walk.

Torn between pressing, nudging - trying to get get a glimpse of the vampires, the destruction. A way to remind yourself what has happened, why you are here.

And then, not wanting to see.

What if it's something you can't take back? What if it disgusts you so much that you can't help but act in that exact moment - ruining your chance?

So, you don't.

You let the images pass - carefully collecting them. Pressing them lkke flowers between a book, something to come back to layer. Not even realizing that deep, deep down...

You’re really just hoping that you don't see him.

You really shouldn’t have gone down to the kitchens.

A heat still burns in your cheeks at the thought, when you finally made your way back to your room. Your treasure procured - a freshly baked pastry with homemade jam clutched in your fingers.

The food here is the best you’ve ever had. You can admit that, at least. All the Companions are well-fed, with treats and delicacies always left out downstairs.

It’s here, that you had found a few others.

Beautiful men and women, all gathered around a smoldering fire as the sun had begun to rise. Their other halves flitting off to hole up until nightfall.

But just like you - there was a desire to see the sun, at least.

You had joined them, half out of loneliness and half intrigue. They had accepted you quickly, stifled laugher and glances over their shoulder as they had whispered questions.

“So how is the Mand’alor? I’ve always wondered.”

“You don’t have any marks. Does he drink from your-”

An elbow then to her side, her words had cut off with a giggle. A head turned- an aside to her friend.

“Lady Kryze is always so thorough. I haven’t slept in days.”

Someone else had sighed.

“What I wouldn’t give to be Lord Fett’s Companion.”

You had realized there’s desire in their words. That none of them were afraid, that there was a sense of private camaraderie and knowing amongst them.

That unsettling, confused feeling comes back. They were human, like you. Did they not know what the vampires did? Were they so shallow that coin and finery had bought their loyalty?

Their eyes were on you, expectant. You had no choice but to shrug with embarrassment.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

They were quick to set you straight.

“It’s like, a feeling, you know?”

“You have to lean into it. That connection.”

“The first time I tried it, I had marks up and down my thighs by morning.”

There was an eagerness that laced with jealousy, leaving you even more bemused than before. Faking a prior engagement as you had left them, promising to give it a try.

Privately, you told yourself you wouldn’t.

You couldn’t.

Looking back, you can’t even remember the taste of the jam, what fruit it was. All you could think about is this new facet of their relationships.

Wondering if that will be expected of you. Wondering why you weren’t warned.

Wondering if you cared.

Wouldn’t that be a good way to get closer?

The thought makes you uneasy.

You’d put an end to this. But you weren’t so cold-hearted to stoop to seduction. That wouldn’t be fair, to Din.

But as the sun rises, when he comes back.

When his mouth is pressing against your wrist, when you’re looking at the bow of his lips and the wide breadth of his armor, that wondering comes again.

The thoughts creep in.

For he is handsome… the parts of him you have seen. A rich voice and the breadth of his shoulders in his armor. The little upward tick of his lips in a rare smile.

And you are human, after all.

You find yourself imagining marks on yours thighs, on the soft curve of your neck.

How your blood would throb, rushing down to pool beneath heated skin - wet and swollen. The thud of your heartbeat kicks up a notch, as your thighs press together. As you squirm in your seat.

You don’t know his face but you do know his mouth. It’s his teeth you picture sinking into your skin, your mind nudging curiously at the thought.

It sends a jolt down your spine. Pricking at your skin, heat licking at your chest and down to your belly. Then slipping lower. Your breath catches in your throat-

His grip on you tightens, then. It’s almost painful - startling you. A hushed cry rattles from your lungs as he pulls back with a rough gasp.

“Ulyc, cyar’ika.” Din’s voice is ragged, as his hips shift upward - letting go, as you pull your wrist back to your chest, “I’m sorry. But you can’t-”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his thought. A knock at the open doorway, Boba’s face grave as it turns your way.

“Mand’alor.” His voice is low, his brows drawn together. “The city, it calls for you.”

Din’s chest still heaves, his hand dragging across his mouth as he composes himself. The helmet sliding back into place as he stands, but still keeping himself close to you.

“Wolves?” He asks.

Boba shakes his head, “Raiders, from the looks of it. Like before. I can send someone, or go myself.”

You forget about the pain, about everything, for just a second. The thought of the town below in ruins sends you back to a year ago, sorrow twisting through your chest.

It has you half-standing, but Din’s hand is pressing against your shoulder, carefully easing you back down.

“I’ll go.” His voice is firm, “This has gone on long enough.”

A second, as he turns to you, “I need to take care of this. Boba will look out for you while I’m gone.”

Something like worry creeps in. Aware of the weak light that slips through the cracks of your curtains, how soon it will be morning.

“The sun…” You begin hesitantly, and he’s stepping closer.

“I’ll be fine.” His fingertips touch your jaw and that has you looking up - wishing once again that you could see his eyes.

Giving him just a small nod, instead.

From your window you watch him leave. The glint of his silver armor in the morning sun, now - his movements practiced as he swings a leg over the slate-grey horse.

Drawing his sword - the metal dark and gleaming and looking almost alive, even as far away as you are.

Watching as he gallops down the path, racing off to ward away the threat.

Leaving you inside the castle, to wait.

You worry turns into something else, as the hours pass.

Anger, at the thought of him rushing off to save this town, when he had launched an attack on yours. Did human life mean so little?

Did he even think about the bodies that had lied littering the streets, the memories that has been torn down?

Was it only because these humans were complicit, that they were spared?

You had awoken to screams. You don’t know if your town had even been asked.

The mark on your wrist stays red, unhealed. A reminder while he is gone. That you’ve slipped too far, that you need to get over the tender feelings you’ve pretended not to notice.

They fester inside your chest. You dream about him while he’s gone, as the day bleeds into another.

His face bare, features blurry above the lips and nose you know so well. Leaving you to wonder if his eyes are red, like the glimpses you’ve gotten of Lady Kryze? Are they burgundy, like Boba’s?

Replaying the sound he had made, the morning that he left. The edge his voice takes just after he feeds, lasting through the few moments he stays afterwards. That pulsing, thudding beat that leaves you squirming, when you’re alone again.

Leaving you with the urge to sink your own teeth into something.

Those thoughts are ruled by your heart, not your mind, not your logic. Another betrayal, your eyes unable to help flicking towards the window, again and again.

Looking to the others throughout the day, checking for any news or weakness.

A sign that he’s fallen.

None come.

You try not to think about the relief that follows. Or why you feel listless, your eyes dragging over the same words in the books you pick up, in an attempt to pass the time.

Your enthusiasm for the food waning - more in tune than ever with the hours that pass.

Still wondering about the town, below.

You had spoken to some, in your journey here. They had been good people, honest folk.

Maybe along the way, there had been a mistake. An itch in your brain that you haven’t been able to scratch, irritating you since you arrived.

You’ve decided to ask Fennec about it.

Not about anything that would raise suspicion.

Just why the Mand’alor himself would feel the need to go alone. What sort of promise he had made, to go rushing off with such intensity?

Maybe then, you could understand.

You find her by accident - in a large ballroom that you often cut through.

The ceiling painted in a wash of colors, accented in gold. Seraphs lying on clouds and sprawling gardens and somehow always feeling bright, even in the dim room.

Liking the way your feet echo, in the empty room. A swing in your step as if you were dancing too, even if just pretend.

But you’re not alone today - she sits in one of the plush alcoves. Arms bared where her shirt pushes up, a dark jerkin slung over one of the marble statues that line the walls.

"I'm sorry-" You manage, attempting to back out of the room. The moment looked private - your question could wait.

Her eyebrow lifts, looking unbothered, "You can come in, I'm just preparing."

The way she lounges is casual, as if she does this regularly. Propped up against a nest of pillows, a book opened against her bent knees. An arm draped to the side, an ooze of red that drips down to a half-full goblet below.

A jar of that same salve Din had given to you sits in the open windowsill, for after. A means to wipe the mark from her skin, to knit it neatly together again.

The sight makes your stomach turn, even after all this time.

"Are you leaving, too?" Your head nods towards the cup, as you linger in the doorway - thinking about what Boba had said about her ferocity.

Her brows pinch in question, as you gesture to her arm.

"No," Fennec's head shakes, as she understands. "This is our arrangement."

"I didn't know you could do it another way." You say this without thought - wondering if this had been what Din was offering, that first night. An alternative to biting - another small attempt at adjusting to your comfort.

"I tried the usual way." She shrugs, eyes dropping down at the text, "This is better, for us. It's tedious, for certain. But I've never enjoyed the connection. Boba's memories are..."

Fennec searches for the word, as you go still, "...Unpleasant. And I am sure mine are worse."

His memories.

Is that what you've been seeing? Those flashes of thought that blend with your own, when his teeth sink into your skin?

But how can they be, when you are in them?

"But, I am sure that's different for you." Her expression is sly, lips curving in a small smirk. A sharp glimmer replacing the far-away look in her eyes, coming back from her own evocation.

"What do you mean?" You ask, your voice sounding far away.

Dazed, as if the words are taking their time on their trip from your thoughts to your tongue.

That look comes back. As if you're on two different brainwaves, as if she isn't understanding what you're asking.

"Well, I thought that would be obvious. We’re not like you…" Fennec frowns, her head tilting. A breath, as she clarifies.

"Boba isn't my mate."

Ahh and the last Secret Prompt from the list is soulmates / fated mates! 💕 thank you so much for reading! If you’d like a tag for the last 2 parts, please let me know!

Ulyc, cyar’ika - “careful, beloved”

(Tags: @dameron-grant-spector, @sugadolly, @writingsofestella, @spaceydragons, @-ohsolovely-, @survivingandenduring, @queenquazar, @alitaar, @dindjarinsslut, @avarkriss)

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin imagine #haunted hoedown #hauntedhoedown

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fleetingcalypso · 12 days

Note

Hello love! i'm absolutely enraptured by your writing. If i could, i'd love to request a Henry Winter x Reader enemies to lovers? Like an absolutely cut-throat academic rivalry that culminates in a dramatic fight and reconciliation at Francis' house? Thank you!

≋ Sometimes attraction blossoms even in the most hostile of places. I'm sure having Henry's life could only benefit from having a rival, turning his world upside down, keeping him on his toes. This is one of my longest works yet, also one I'm not too keen on, nonetheless I pray it captures your interest.

≋ Henry Winter x GN!Reader ≋

≋ Word Count: 4582 words.

≋ TW: mentions of dr*gs, consumption of alcohol, violence (Henry receives a slap in a moment of ire), Edmund "Bunny" Corcoran.

I remember when I initially stepped foot in Julian’s office: most of the words he spoke are lost in time but one thing is forever stitched in the fabric of my memory, he patted me on the shoulder as an affectionate mentor would and with an award winning smile he said, “You’ll fit right in.” It made me feel validated at the time, like I had a place in the world, a bird fallen out of its nest reunited with its family at last. He wasted no seconds in telling me how he would usually limit his students to the odd number of only five, but he could tell there was something about the way I carried myself that would not disturb the peaceful routine he had meticulously crafted.

Classes with Julian were anything but peaceful, to my displeasure, not because of him, not at all. He was a splendid instructor, I often found myself on the edge of my seat with each one of his words. With no surprise, I was not the only one placing him on a crystal pedestal.

One single man made each class feel as though I was being tortured by demons, poked by sharp pointy tails. Each of my comments was brushed off, deemed useless and void of meaning, each paragraph, line, even a single word I read was followed by a deep voice interrupting me and correcting my pronunciation with great emphasis. Thankfully, I had found friends as well, other than a snake spiraling around my ankle, threatening to consume me whole.

The root of all of my headaches, as much as I’d love to strip him of his name, is called Henry Winter.

It’s not to say that I’d let him walk all over me. On more than one occasion, I was victorious after our heated discussions about the accuracy of a translated text or if we were to choose one of the five Greek cases over another. Following each argument his jaw would clench and he’d let out a curt “Very well, then,” before turning his head away and acting as if nothing had happened, although I could without fail notice the tension in his body. It was rather easy, for some unknown reason we’d always find ourselves sitting next to each other, so close our knees touched.

“Henry, is there anything you’re unable to do?” One day I asked him, in Julian’s momentary absence, the question felt only natural to pose: with his expertise in various languages and his familiarity with the world in Ancient Greece being so fascinating. The taunting tone in my voice caught the attention of not only my interlocutor, but the rest of our classmates as well. Six pairs of eyes were fixed on me, some looking more amused than others. His response came only after Bunny elbowed him, egging him on, “Ensuring you will not plague my days, apparently,” he said, pushing his glasses further up his nose. The venom he spat failed to enter my system, nonetheless it makes my gaze narrow.

“You always know what to say.” It’s not a question this time, but an observation which he rewarded with a “Of course I do. Lack of words is for the uncultured.” Our interaction was cut short due to Julian returning, but that would not be the end of it.

That very same day, after our lesson was over we all stood to leave, his hand found the spot on the small of my back as he walked past me, as if it belonged there by birthright. Sometimes I still feel it, the memory creeps up on me in the middle of the night, it keeps me awake whilst making me want more and more of him, like a cruel, vicious, thrilling drug I am unable to have a sober day from.

Class wasn’t the only occasion of the day where we would have contrasting thoughts: once, it happened during a morning when all seven of us sat in the library, open books and notebooks scattered all over our table, “This is going nowhere,” groaned Charles pushing the wrinkled paper he was writing onto towards my direction, “Take a look at this. What do you think?”

It stroked my ego that he chose my opinion over Henry’s and by a flying glance I noticed a slight surprised glint in his blue eyes, though he was quick to conceal it by focusing onto the fountain pan in his hand. I wasn’t the only one surprised by our friend’s choice in who should aid him in his translation.

After a short look, the mistake was clear, “Ah, here it is. Your writing is not inherently wrong, ‘Who dares think one thing, and another tell, my heart detests him as the gates of hell,’ while it is correct, it could be worded in a different way, try: ‘For hateful to me as the gates of Hādēs is that man who hides one thought in his mind, but speaks another.’ That should flow better.” Just to be certain - and perhaps to bother him just a small amount - I turned to Henry, “Shouldn’t it?” He didn’t move for a second before humming and nodding, although I might have overheard him whisper “You’re doing too much,” under his breath. When I handed the paper back to its owner I could spot Francis with his hand over his lips, trying to mask a grin, obviously amused by my exchange with our friend.

The amount of times we’ve debated over the littlest of things, it would take all the stars in the universe to count, and it still would not be enough.

“You’re slow today.” He whispered to me one day, when I hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to answer one of Julian’s queries about the Iliad, his breath tickled my ear and sent goosebumps down the back of my neck. It's true, I was slow. Henry's cologne for some insane reason was all I could think about: his closeness to me, as much as it was far by greatly affecting my attention, it certainly was reluctantly occupying a part of my mind. “Have you considered that not every thought should be spoken out loud?” I argued, the left corner of his lips lifted into a crooked half smile, “Interesting. You could benefit from your own advice.” He said, and it ended there. It left me with something I can’t quite recognize.

Ultimately, every day turned into a competition: petty, small things that held my heart hostage, like who was the first to enter Julian’s office at the beginning of the day, who turned in an essay the fastest, whose penmanship was more aesthetically pleasing and whose comments in class were rewarded with more praise.

Another episode in which I thought our rivalry was set in stone, from the very moment he laid eyes on me, happened during a quiet Wednesday, and we were enjoying a delicious lunch at the twins’ place. Camilla had cooked lamb chops, the rest of us had brought refreshments and some side dishes. Henry got a hold of my chair before I could grab it, he pulled it out for me then took a seat in the chair furthest away from mine.

In the middle of our meal, as I was diving in for seconds, Bunny interrupted the calm atmosphere that had formed by being his usual exasperating self and kicking my leg from under the table, “You know,” He began waving his fork in my direction, with his lips still dirty with food, “I’ve always wondered, whenever you look at Julian with stars in your eyes, is it because you truly care about what he has to say, or is it because you’re trying to suck up to him and get easy marks by being a teacher’s pet? He’s too old for you, you know?” From the seat next to me I swear I could hear Charles choke on his food, Richard’s jaw fell open, Francis looked positively disgusted, Camilla -poor soul- pushed her plate away, as the mental image of me being in love with our professor was plastered into her unwilling mind. The only one with no visible reaction was Henry.

“That’s what I thought as well, at first,” He noted, dabbing his lips with his napkin, “Class with Julian is not a slice of bread even the dirty pigeons on the sidewalk can stumble upon. It is only a matter of time before you realize what blessing you’ve found.” He was a master of masking a mocking undertone in his voice, along with an air of superiority which implied that the one thing he was waiting for was for me to blow up, to storm away, pack my stuff and leave Vermont for good.

“Don’t you think assuming my inability to follow lessons with the rest of you is an insult to Julian’s ability to tell whether someone is worth his time or not? If I were him I’d be quite offended, if I can say so.”

The glare he shot at me, with his blue eyes piercing through his glasses, was enough for me to know I had won; the way he was gripping his fork, his knuckles white as ever, let me know that this was not only a win, this was one of his battleships sinking. This was war, as far as I was concerned, it could only end either with an impossible truce or until one of us was dead in a ditch.

Not wanting to entirely ruin lunch, Francis was the one to change the subject. What he said I do not remember, as I was too busy basking in my own subtle victory to pay attention, but it did work and Henry made no further jabs at me that day. The same cannot be said for Bunny, who seemed to find it exhilarating that I would stand up to Henry the way I did and spent the rest of the day testing my patience.

Since that day, life has been notably bloodless between me and the human thorn in my side, with the occasional exception. I’ve come to notice that, when he is not wasting his time trying his best to get on my nerves, he passes as a truly handsome man. It might be something about the sheer size of him, or it could very well be the way he looks at me,his gaze permanently deeper than the ocean itself, as well as his hands, veiny and large, yet rarely rough in movements. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve spent far too many instants passing glimpses at his fingers, as they slide along the pages of books.

If I have to stand in front of a jury of Gods, though, and speak my naked truth - with no censors - I’d probably reveal that what is so fascinating about Henry is the way he is a bottomless well of knowledge about Ancient Greece. He is devoted to it, as he is devoted to Julian and in some sick twisted way I can’t help but find that veneration attractive.

Against my better judgment, I find myself missing our banter more than anything. The way he stared me down used to give me goosebumps, it still does when my eyelids close and I imagine it.

Summer comes faster than I imagine, faster than lightning striking the Earth, and in the blink of an eye I find myself at Francis’s aunt’s house. All of us fell into a comfortable rhythm while residing here, it was a breath of fresh air compared to our daily life. Playing the piano, reading in the vast library, excursions out to the lake, we kept ourselves busy, enjoying the countryside, keeping what -at the time- felt like the biggest secret of our lives from Richard.

At my awakening I was delighted in discovering everyone else was still deep in sleep. I took it as permission to make some breakfast. I had placed two cups of coffee on the table when he made his way into the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and not a single sight of his usual exhaustion on his face. Morning sunlight shines onto his skin, giving it a warm glow, he looks positively saintlike. An archangel descending from the heavens, waiting to be welcomed to my mass, just to notify me that the end is coming sooner than I expect. “I made coffee.” I said, setting a cup in front of him. He looked at it for a moment, just for a moment, before his doubt shrouded eyes met mine, “I have a feeling you’ve poisoned this.” As he was debating whether to accept my offer, Charles joined us. He accepted a cup without a moment’s hesitation, downed it while throwing his head back, then walked off to God knows where, not like I care much.

Henry took a sip only after witnessing that it was indeed safe to do so, I did as well. As the hot liquid met his taste buds I could see him regret he ever came into the kitchen. It was coffee, yes, although unlike my cup which had sugar at the bottom of it, the one he was drinking from had salt in it. A smile tugged at my lips, “Good morning,” I said watching his face scrunch up and force himself to not spit out what was in his mouth. A puzzled look possesses my face as he doesn’t look away from my eyes, not for one second, his eyebrows scrunch while he doesn’t spill a drop of salted coffee, it all slides down his throat. “Good morning.” He replies, coldly, tongue sliding over his bottom lip.

By the time everyone had come to have breakfast, whether it was a glass of wine, whiskey or any drink of their choice, Henry hadn’t moved. With him following my every move, it felt only natural to imagine he’d be scheming something, and my hypothesis would soon reveal itself to ring true, leaving me like a sailor at sea, in the middle of an impenetrable storm.

The sun burns high in the sky, then it slowly melts into the sea, showering the world in tones of red, gold and purple; we spent dawn-to-dark in nature, feeling the blades of grass under our feet, taking turns sitting on a boat floating down the lake and resting by the shadows of the trees with books in our lap, the seraphic nature of the day could have been immortalized in a painting by Michelangelo himself, but no amount of expertise with the brush would be able to capture the unmitigated calm that reigned.

Such a glorious day deserves to have an equally splendid ending, suggested Francis once we retired back to the house. Bottles were hastily opened, alcohol floating in glasses and finding a home between thirsty lips. Inebriation wasted no time in letting inhibitions be on the loose. One small insignificant disagreement accounted as an act of hypothetical insubordination broke into an altercation between me and my nemesis. It went on forever, such an interminable occasion that our friends abandoned us in the kitchen and went on to enjoy their drinks in the library.

“I don’t think you should be here,” His vicious words didn’t faze me at that point, the knowledge that in his idea of a perfect world I was nowhere to be found wasn’t lost on me, “You should get in your car and drive far, far away from where my eye can’t reach.” The first two buttons of his shirt were nonchalantly unbuttoned distracting me for just a moment, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with each sound caught my attention.

“Careful my friend,” I answered, fingers growing cold from the cool glass in my hand, being gripped with an unusual stability given the wine floating in my system, his face twitched at my name for him, “It almost sounds like my very existence bothers you more than one could imagine.”

“It does. Bother me, it is. It bothers me greatly. I don’t think you should be here” He repeats. As magnanimous as I am, I am no martyr. My glass hits the table with a thud, bright red splashes onto the tablecloth as I raise my voice louder than I would like, “What the fuck is your problem?!” Never in my life had I met a human as frustrating as him, “I can’t imagine I’ve done much to you the first day I sat in that office, yet, you’ve been nothing but unkind towards me.”

“What is my problem?!” He pushes himself to his feet, his voice loud to match mine, “You are my problem! You’re always having something to prove, buzzing about like a working insect devoted to the queen bee, it’s exhausting to even have you sit next to me.” I’m tempted to spill my drink in his face, what a sight it would be: savory red drops slipping down his glasses and hair, wetting his cheeks and jaw until it reached his lip. Instead of that I just shove him, resulting in him stumbling a step backwards, clearly not expecting the mouse to fight back against the owl trying to catch it.

“Have you ever even glimpsed in a mirror?! You act as if you’re so all-mighty, like the rest of the world is merely ants under your shoe! It’s nerve wracking when you find someone you can’t step all over isn't it? How does it feel to have found the one person in the world that does not bow down to you?” He enrages me, in all truth. I can’t bring myself to understand why it is, that now of all times, he makes my blood boil, in more ways than one, “Does it turn your stomach upside down? Is it the only thing you can think about?”

His chest moved for just a single, shaky breath and by now I knew I was playing with fire. If I got burned by touching the sun, at the very least it means I flew high enough to touch it. My hands moved again, ready to push him once again however just a breath before my lips could part to berate him even more his hands caught my wrists.

“You’re a parasite.” He hisses, lowering his face close to mine, by my reflection in the lenses of his glasses it is plain to see his choice of words leaves a mark, not on my face as a slap would, but on my emotions, “You’re a tiny, disgusting, parasite. You’ve single handedly infiltrated yourself in my modus operandi and I am just waiting for the moment I can finally take a moment to breathe again. Since the day you’ve set foot in that office I have, not once, had a chance to relax.” My body reacts before I can allow it to do so, the red handprint forming on his right cheek and his glasses being askew -almost on the brink of falling- confirm that I did, indeed, strike him in a fit of rage. How I was able to free one of my limbs from his death grip I do not know, adrenaline does some wonderful miracles.

“If I’m a parasite,” My voice comes out in a low growl, “Then you best pay attention I don’t end up killing you.” The more I stand in his presence, in this kitchen, having our chests rising in synch with the slowest breaths we have ever taken, I recognize just how much we latch onto each other, how we’ve stitched our existence together with an obsidian thread the very first time we sat with our knees grazing.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He admits in a whisper I can barely hear. Had our faces not been as close as they are, I’d probably would have thought he’d been mouthing nonsense. One second he’s all I can see, with his monumental figure blocking everything else, the next he’s walking away from me, his glass of wine sits on the tablecloth, still full, untouched.

Now I know how Pandora felt as she unintentionally let the vase she was gifted almost grow empty, now I could describe in meticulous detail what a bee feels after its first and final sting.

I do not join my friends in their gathering. My chest aches with something unfamiliar, comfort certainly won’t be known for as long as I find myself anywhere near Henry Winter.

The moon has reached its place in the sky by barely an hour now, a pearl glistening onto a fabric of pure pitch-black, tiny crystals surrounding it, making sure it will never be alone forever and ever. I’ve never seen a tapestry as breathtaking as the one mirroring on the calm surface of the lake I’m strolling by to gather my thoughts. Henry is somewhat right, deep inside of me I can feel it, I’ll be the death of him one way or another. He’s the king, guiding his troops and his courtesans from the comfortable seat of an opulent throne and I’m an approaching invasion, inevitable and threatening destruction for the kingdom he has built from nothing, rooted in the deepest of sins: pride. Hubris seems to get the better of us both with each breath we take.

My anger had settled in the brief sixty minutes I’ve spent admiring the darkness, by myself. Some fireflies with their microscopic body attempt to irradiate the entire lakeside with light, oblivious to their size or the impossibility of their mission.

Tirelessly I recount my life at Hampden, every single moment I can recall gets forced under scrutiny: “You’ll fit right in,” Julian had told me, in his eyes there lived a conviction I’ve noticed only during his enthralling lessons. I’ve only ever known him to speak the holy truth, doubting feels like going against everything I’ve ever known. In my solitude I find contentment, time flows steadily, mimicking a river in which nymphs could find respite.

“So this is where you were hiding.” A deep voice rises among the chirping of crickets, “We couldn’t find you at the house.” And just like that the incantation I’d fashioned myself in dissolves in the cool night air, joining the fireflies in their dance to please the stars and the moon. I hear him before I see him. A colorless shadow approaches me, in an impossibly inky abyss of nature, it can only be him; out of all our friends he’s the only one that can tell what bizarre chemical reactions my brain produces, he’s the only one that can read my thoughts like they were the very first lines of the Iliad, because more often than not he’s thinking the exact same thing.

‘The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing.’ I recite in my mind as the barely human shadow only gets closer and closer, ‘That wrath which hurled to Pluto's gloomy reign the souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain, whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,’ his footsteps stop behind me, he wants to speak as do I, but neither dare utter a sound, ‘Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore: Since great Achilles and Atrides strove, such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove!’

Unconsciously I found more satisfaction in rehearsing the words out loud, “Declare, O Muse. In what ill-fated hour, sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power?” And of course, he continued them effortlessly: “Latona's son a dire contagion spread, and heaped the camp with mountains of the dead; The king of men his reverend priest defied, and, for the king's offence, the people died.” We will never stop trying to compete with each other, it is a losing battle: it’s asking the moon to stop being the unmatchable muse for romance poems, it’s asking the cosmos and all of its constellations to disappear.

“You’re not always honest,” I mumbled, disregarding if he’d consider me weak or frail, ignoring the way I could feel him burn a hole in the back of my head, “Tonight you were what I think is the most honest you’ve been in a long time.” He’s my tormentor just as much as I am his.

His knee grazes against mine in the instant he finds a seat on the grass, next to me. His lingering accidental touch takes a hold of me, it’s addictive. “You are a parasite.” He insists and for a moment I think we’re about to raise our voices at each other again, but then he continues with a softer voice, “You’ve latched into my mind, consuming every corner of my life and I am defenseless to it.”

“What do you mean?”

I can’t perfectly see his face in the moonlight, but if he is by any means like me as I know he is, I can consider correct the hypothesis of his pupils being dilated enough to swallow me whole. He drinks me in, like the salty cup of coffee I offered him, he doesn't leave anything behind, doesn’t waste a drop.

“You’re in possession of a great intellect. For a second in your life, put aside the countless feuds we were active participants in and figure it out. You’re hurling me into unwanted and unknown territory.” I know what he means. He could speak every language in the world and I’d still know what each word signifies, in its deepest meaning. It baffles me that he is able to discern my brilliance. He’d never lauded me so. There’s a first for everything, it seems.

“I am not a threat to your leadership, I’m not trying to be.”

He laughs at my words, to my surprise: dry and void of humor, “It’s not my leadership that’s compromised. It’s my heart and mind. While at first I found our game bothersome and quite frankly childish, I’ve unearthed a yearning for it, so influential on my being that I find myself hopelessly wishing you’d dismiss yourself from my life, with the result that I might go back to when you were not the only thing inhabiting my thoughts.”

“I won’t deny I’ve allowed myself to feel the same.” In the dim lighting we sit, I’m appreciative my confession will be the only truly limpid particle of me, I’m not ready for him to see me as I am, not yet, “I yearn for our arguments, for the furrow in your brow and your disapproving stare with each of our disagreements, most of all I yearn for your stimulating presence. Henry, you’re quite the character.”

“So are you. Impossibly infuriating, and delightfully of the essence for me.”

Our friends are waiting for us, I’m acutely aware of it, nonetheless I find myself giving into selfishness for tonight. It is a long way to go, for us two to build a bridge, but with one brick at a time perhaps it is not only a bridge we can erect, but a whole kingdom, with two thrones instead of a solitary one and no invasion to knock at its doors. If his hand slips on top of mine I pretend I do not notice, just like he doesn’t mention my head resting itself on his shoulder. The lake has never looked better, with a bright spotlight shining onto the calm surface, ripped out the pages of a fairytale. Maybe with enough time and effort the fireflies will be able to shine as bright as the moon.

#fleetingcalypso #calypsodaydreams #henry winter x reader #henry winter #the secret history #the secret history x reader #tsh donna tartt #dark academia #reader insert #writing

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xxventiswindblumexx · 1 year

Text

Gift for my lovely smut soulmate @hitomisuzuya 🤭

Fatui!Scaramouche x Obsessive Fem reader

⚠Warnings⚠:Aphrodisiac usage, scaramouche being himself, degradion, yandere themes, dub-con

Scaramouche the 6th Fatui harbinger was a feared man, many horror stories circulated around what he's done and most would stay clear of him, normal people would but that's not you.

You know the risk of approaching him, approaching what's essentially an archon.

Who are you to even think of such activities? You're not much, an adventurer that's found their greatest adventure, the thrilling and exciting attempt to track down this Fatui Harbinger for yourself.

You don't even know what you'll say when you do get to him, that is if you're not killed instantly. Your fascination for this man started when you seen him once when traveling, you heard of him but couldn't believe how incredibly beautiful he was, his voice was even better. However at the time you where not asking for a death wish and made sure he didn't see you as he left with his agents. After planning for a few months you've successfully tracked down where he is and will be, it wasn't easy as he's a very secretive man. You packed what you'll need and headed out, Archons help you from being one shotted the moment he sees you.

After about of week of traveling you could see in the distance a camp in the forest, you stalk closer to see and the agents are a clear sign that a Fatui Harbinger was here, you just had to see which because running into Childe wasn't on your list of to-dos.

After a moment you seen him, Scaramouche. Your heart pounded once more, your body heating up in all the right places, it was like the first time again. He was speaking to some agents, about what you don't know, you could barely hear from the sound of your heart almost beating out of your chest. .. or maybe it was the adrenaline. Whatever it was the only thing you know is that you were going to talk to him, you'll take any chance to get a word in with him, even if it meant you have to get hurt... or die.

You waited for some of the agents to disburse, luckily for you he didn't like have others with him in that rather large tent he had set up for himself. Soon enough the agents slipped up, speaking to each other leaving you some space, a chance to dart to the tent without disturbance. That was what you did.

He turned rather quickly, his hands up ready to defend himself, it seems not many just dart in and he was ready to fight. However noticing you didn't have a weapon on you he didn't attack right away

"Who are you and why are you here? Speak now" he hissed with a harsh glare, you stood in shock in the fact that for one, you actually made it, you're here and two you're not dead yet.

"I-Im Y/N and... " you trailed off some, where you just going to say why you really came here, to fuck his brains out? Really? You didn't really think a lot, seeming your hormones speaking for you before logic.

He watched your body language carefully as he noticed you where far from a threat but still, kept his defense up.

"Don't tell me you came without reason, or maybe you're backing out now that you've gotten to see me? " He said with a snarky attitude, no, you couldn't back down now.

"No! I-Im not backing down, I came to.. " Speaking on your business wasn't going to happen, you was simply too nervous however you noticed with his cocky attitude he slipped on his defense, you took this chance to act, now or never right?

Your hands grabbing his face as your lips connect to his rather fast and harsh, his skin was cold to the touch. Of course he was taken back by this sudden move, sure he figured you would act but not like this, his hands grabbing yours and pushing you off. His breath seemed to have increased, his face blushing a deep pink as well as a bit of saliva on the corner of his mouth.

"What do you think you're doing!? " He was beyond flustered yet it seemed he didn't totally hate it. You couldn't respond with words, at least not easily only taking a step closer, he backed up into a table with papers on it.

"H-Hey! Wait a minute-" your lips once more connecting his as your body pressed against him, you've gotten too far to back down, however if he really didn't want you there you wouldn't be standing still so at least he didn't seem to hate it. This time he didn't push you off right away, kissing back but harsher as he flipped the two of you, your back hitting the wooden table as papers of plans went flying. His hands holding yours down, pinning them as he broke the kiss looking down at you, lust in his eyes.

"You're just some glorified pervert aren't you? Have you been following me, waiting to pounce like the bitch in heat you are" He hissed as he leaned down to you, his hand grabbing your throat "If we are doing anything here I'll be the one in control got it? " he spoke, his breath tickling your neck, all you could do was nod, earning a chuckle from him. His hands let go off you as they went to grab something, soon enough he put something in your mouth and pushed you over onto your back, a gasp escaped your mouth at the impact, he placed his knee in your lower region. A growl leaving his lips. He was enjoying this way too much to be honest.

"Now listen here slut and listen good, I'm not here to play games and I have all I need to make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?" He asked harshly as he used some rope to bind your wrists together before searching your pockets to make sure you truely didn't have anything to harm him with, only for him to pull out a small vile a glowing pink liquid "Aphrodisiacs? Really? " how did he know what it was? Either way you felt embarrassed for getting you even had it. Once your pockets was emptied and deemed not a threat he chuckled a little "You're quite pathetic arent you? How many did you think you where going to get me to consume this? " you were speechless now and he smirked as he pulled your hair to make sure you could see him "Soon you'll see what kind of authority youre challenging you whore" he spat the last word before he completely shredded your clothing, he had a lot more strength then expected for someone of his size, as you tried to cover yourself which was useless with your hands bound, he grabbed your wrists "Come on let's have some fun " his smirk growing, a low rumble left him "Just you wait I won't be gentle"

Your stomach and front side pressed against the rough wooden surface as your back end now out for him to see "Already so wet and ready for me, you really are a whore" he thrusts two slender fingers into your core harshly "I'm only making room for myself so don't get used it bitch" He said harshly as he added a third, not giving you time to really adjust, it was then when he seen a bit of blood he laughed "Oh Archons am I your first? Really you wanted me to be it? At least your have good tastes" pulling his fingers from you, licking the blood mixed with your juices off, his eyes glaring down at you. You could see how much he wanted to dominate you, to fuck you until you begged for mercy. He remembered something as he grabbed vile you had brought with you and took the top off before looking at you with a smirk "This should keep us busy for a while don't you think? I can already tell you're not ready for what you got yourself into" He flipped you onto your back before pushing the vile to your lips, almost forcing you to drink the aphrodisiac. Once done he discarded it to the side as his hands wondered your body, it didn't take long before the effects started to work on you, your body heating up more then ever as your breathing picked up its pace. You however had a small devious idea, an idea that can get you possibly killed but you held a bit of the liquid in your mouth, hidden so when he came in for a harsh you managed to push it into his mouth causing him to swallow it out of surprise, pulling back quickly to wipe his mouth with his sleeve. You could see the anger in his eyes before they softened, he laughed "Oh you dirty little bitch!"

Only a small smirk adorned on your face, now playing his little game, he pushed onto your stomach once more harshly as he he chuckled lowly "You know I thought about going slow at first, sure not for long but giving you some time to adjust.. " you felt his tip press against your core teasingly, you moaned out "But for that.. I'm going to go as harsh as I want to, to use your whore body for myself as my little toy" he said as he slammed himself in fully, bottoming out. You yelped and groaned in slight pain however the aphrodisiac helped numb it into pleasure . Your nails digging into the rope, you closed your eyes.

And he began to pound into you with full force, every stroke feeling as though you'd be ripped apart. Each one bringing you further to your climax, your eyes clenched tightly as he pounded deeper than you've ever felt, it' almost as if his entire being wanted to hurt you, as if he craved to be inside you as he continued to slam into you hard, the sound of a few men outside yelling as they thought he was being attacked only for him to snap at them before they could come in "Take one step in this tent and you'll all see your maker! " They didn't need to be told twice backing away leaving the two of you alone.

His hands gripping your hips as his nails dug into your skin leaving marks, you could feel small shocks of his electro through his finger tips adding more pleasure. His hips moving faster as you cried out, your voice coming out as whimpers, tears pricking you as he pumped in and out of you, each thrust sending chills through you. As he slowed down after a couple minutes and stopped slamming into you, both of your bodies shaking, sweat dripping down your faces.

"S-Scara-" A particularly hard thrusts cut you short of speaking as he growled "Don't fucking call me that like were friends, call me master" he hissed at you as he kept thrusting "I could fucking kill you bitch! Watch your damn words" Another heavy thrust made you moan and babble incoherently against the table

"I.. I didn't mean t..to.. ah... ah.. " you couldn't finish your sentence as he kept pounding into you, you were panting heavily as you tried to catch your breath, your head turning some to look at him, his eyes were filled with lust and anger, his teeth gritted as he continued to pound into you.

You could feel him twitch in you, he was close so close<br />

"Call me master! " he demanded, no ordered you. You whimpered slightly as he gave another violent thrust causing you to scream out loudly as it came "Nnnngghhhh! Master!!!" he slammed into you again as you screamed. both yours and his body trembling and sweating heavily as he released into you, still thrusting but not near as hard, pushing his seed further into you, some dripping down your leg.

Once it passed you where panting as you laid down staring at the ceiling unable to move or speak, your vision blurring as sleep consumed you.

The first thing you saw was Scaramouche putting something onto your neck, it felt like leather, and hearing a few words he spoke ".. my pet... "

#fatui scaramouche #scaramouche smut #genshin scaramouche

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zoeykallus · 11 months

Note

Do you take requests? I would love to read something with Hunter where he teaches you how to fight :))) smut is also welcome

Hmm, thanks for the input 🔥🔥🔥

Hunter x Fem!Reader One-Shot - Show Me What You've Got

Warnings: Smut/Strongly Suggestive/Soft-Dom Hunter/Training Turns To Smut/Sexual Content/Dub-Con(?)/Dirty Stuff/18+

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You won't find much of a plot here 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also, I'm so tired I could cry, so this is not proofread, sorry...

_________________

You are much too self-confident, actually you already know that before you visit him, so far you never beat hunter in a sparring session. But you want to try out the few moves you learned yesterday. And who would be better suited for that than Hunter, whom you like to get close to anyway? The man is downright outrageously handsome, with his dark hair, that striking face, those firm muscles under his toned skin. Combined with that deep, slightly smoky voice, the way he moves and looks at you, a cocktail that always makes your heart beat faster and fills your nights with wild dreams. Hunter really likes to be alone. You know that because he always makes sure he has a training room all to himself in the barracks. Basically, Hunter withdraws from others at every opportunity rather than seeking their proximity. You know why he takes time off whenever he can, trains alone, and spends as little time as possible with other soldiers besides his own squad. Hunter's extraordinary senses cause him to be quickly exposed to sensory overload, with things that others wouldn't even notice. Being continuously exposed to everything in this way, you imagine, is very exhausting.

So you can understand his general reserve. Hunter is already waiting for you when you enter the training room. He has already spread out the large mat on the floor, which is supposed to cushion any possible falls. You examine him quickly, inconspicuously. Black muscle shirt, black sports pants, barefoot. Of course, he's wearing his bandana, as usual. He has bandaged his hands, probably he intends to go to the punching bag later, you have observed him secretly, fascinated sometimes. The flex of his muscles, the power behind each punch, his posture. You suppress a longing sigh at the thought. Hunter addresses you, snapping you out of your thoughts. "There you are. I've been waiting." You glance at the clock hanging on the wall of the room above your heads, and say dryly, "I'm five minutes early." Hunter smiles with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "I know, but you're usually in earlier than that" You blink, feeling caught. Does he know that you sometimes secretly watch him? But he distracts your thoughts again.

"You learned something new you wanted to try with me?" he asks curiously. "Um, yeah, right. Something Wolffe showed me." Hunter frowns briefly and asks, so casually it almost doesn't seem casual anymore, "Since when do you hang out with the wolf pack?" The way you look at him makes him feel like you're looking right into him and seeing through his curious question. So he looks down at his hands and pretends he needs to fix the bandages. Somehow you can't recognize his behavior for what it is at this moment. You shrug your shoulders and say, "For quite some time now, as a matter of fact, sometimes. Did I never tell you about it before?" "No, you didn't," Hunter says, clearing his throat and pulling his bandana a little tighter. "Well, now I've told you," you say lightly, unaware of why he's so interested. Hunter nods and says, "Okay, show me what you've got."

His gaze wanders along your body, your posture. Your black yoga pants hugging your curves, the shirt you wear is a little wider, but knotted in the back. Hunter is distracted and promptly lands on his back as you pull his legs away with a simple trick. He makes a startled noise before landing on the ground. Grinning, you bend over him. "Well, that was easy today," you say, amused.

"I wasn't fully on top of my game. That doesn't count." You snort and laugh softly, "Oh come on Hunter, no one on the battlefield cares if you're ready or not either". His eyes narrow, and he says suspiciously smoky, "Hmm, good point". In the next moment he's grabbed you, taken down your defenses, has you on your back and is on top of you.

"Damn," you curse softly and try to break free, but he holds you under him with ease. He grins at you and your heart really jumps out at him, but not only that, a gentle pulse has arisen between your thighs as your nether regions touch, and you feel every contact very clearly through the thin fabric of your pants. "Gotcha, once again," he says with a grin.

You smile back nervously. You are aware of how sharp his senses are, and he will notice the change in your mood and hormone balance very quickly. Finally, you see it in his face. His expression changes, the smile slowly disappears, he blinks and tilts his head slightly to the side. "That's new," he says softly. You don't even ask what he means, because you already know. You swallow and say just as quietly, "Sorry." You expect him to let go of you and seek distance, but he surprises you. Hunter grabs both of your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head on the mattress, his other hand gently moving to the back of your neck. "There is no need to be sorry, if you ask me".

He knows it's a daring move, but he cant help it, he has to take the leap and taste the waters.

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest as his face comes closer and closer. His lips touch yours, slowly at first, tenderly, and your pulse begins to race, your eyes closing. Hunter's tongue slides over your lips which automatically open for him, and as it slides in and touches yours, the pulse between your thighs intensifies. You moan softly into the kiss. Very clearly, you feel him slowly getting hard as his pelvis still rests on yours, between your thighs. The hand that is on your neck slowly moves down, over the fabric of your shirt, feeling your breasts, gently kneading them, probing. His thumb feels your nipples, which are erected, pressing through the thin fabric of your bra and shirt.

A shiver runs down your spine, a tingle spreads through your belly as he plays with your nipples through the fabric, still holding you captive beneath him and his kiss. Ever so slowly, barely noticeably, he moves between your legs, pushing his hard length through the fabric, rubbing over your pubic, sparking gentle, stimulating friction. Hunter's hand finally moves under the fabric, while the other still holds your wrists. You feel his bare fingertips on your skin, the rough fabric of the bandages on his hands as he pushes the cups of your bra up and off your breasts to get at the soft, velvety mounds beneath. Suddenly he straightens up, sitting between your thighs, and let's go of you. He points an admonishing finger at you with a dirty little smile and says, " Stay right there." You obey, not even thinking of contradicting him. He takes off the bandages, removes them from his hands and tosses them carelessly to the side before throwing himself over you again. He stops just inches away from your face, catches himself with his hands on the mat, and grins at you.

Hunter teasingly kisses your chin and the tip of your nose, then straightens up again, pulling your T-shirt over your head. "Be a good girl and come with me," he says in an almost whisper, close to your ear, just before he bites your earlobe very gently.

You swallow, but nod and let him help you up. Clad only in your panties, you follow him to a side chamber where other workout equipment is stored. Hunter leads you to one of the benches where people usually lift weights, puts his towel over it and gently but firmly pushes you onto it so that you are lying on your back in front of him.

With a little smirk, he says, "Good girl."

Hunter wanders down along your body, pulling off your yoga pants and murmuring, "I really need to smell and taste you." You blink, heat flooding your body the second you realize exactly what he means by that. Your pants land on the floor, then his fingers travel down from the base of your breasts to where your body is radiating the most heat. His fingertips ghost over the thin fabric of your panties, lingering on the wet spot, exerting playful pressure. Hunter is kneeling in front of the bench, head between your thighs, close to your pubic area, he takes a deep breath and shakily expels it. "Damn, what a scent!"

His cock is already twitching expectantly in his pants, your hormones, the luring substances your body produces in arousal, tingling under his skin, from crown to toe. His fingers finally wander under the waistband of your panties and pull them off as well.

You can't believe that you are lying practically naked on a bench in one of the training halls, Hunter's head between your thighs. He has reserved this room for himself, but it is not locked, someone could still come in. But this thought suddenly disappears from your mind when you feel his breath on your damp folds, and shortly after his lips and tongue.

He presses his tongue to your pussy, roaming through your folds, dipping into your sensitive, wet hole once or twice, making you twitch, before he focuses on your clit. His tongue, exerting perfect pressure, circles skillfully and nimbly on the bundle of nerves. You haven't noticed it yourself yet, but you're already sighing, moaning and gasping, fueling him in his efforts. Hunter feels exactly each of your reactions, knows exactly when and what causes your arousal to increase, and thus learns very quickly, to perfection, every pressure, every movement that sends you into ecstasy. You tremble with aroused tension, your thighs quiver gently. You are so horny, and yet a part of you is very aware of what is happening and can't quite grasp it. That's Hunter tonguing your clit as if he's been programmed to do just that. It feels so good, everything is tingling and vibrating inside you, your hands are gripping the bench above your head and clutching at it.

He is relentless. You hear the soft slurp, a repetitive soft aroused rumble deep from his chest as he holds your thighs apart with his hands. He's getting faster and faster, his tongue gliding over your swollen pearl more and more rapidly. Hunter is literally chasing you towards your orgasm. The knot that has formed in your belly loosens, a fiery tingle pulses through your clit, your pussy twitches and drips. Your moan is almost like a little scream. Hunter's tongue massages you through a prolonged, intense climax.

You dare only a brief glance and see his intense eyes, the pupils so dilated that his eyes seem almost black. His senses are full of you, your scent and your hormones have practically overpowered him. He lets go of your clit, just at the right moment, and you're just about to catch your breath when he moves further down and his tongue suddenly drills into your dripping opening and starts licking you out. "Hunter!" you exclaim, startled. Hypersensitive after climaxing, you twitch and tremble as he uses his tongue to fill you. He has to grip tighter to keep you from escaping his grasp and slipping off the bench with your twitching. You claw even harder with your hands on the bench. Hunter takes his time, absorbing every drop of your juices like a starving man. It takes a moment, but your arousal builds again. Suddenly his head comes out from between your legs and he takes a deep breath.

"What a feast, my good girl," he says in a voice rough with horniness. He straightens up, kneeling in front of the bench, his pelvis between your thighs, and you catch a glimpse of his hard length. His cock is thick, long, gently curved, the tip slightly red and swollen, leaking pre-cum. You lick your lips, knowing what's coming next, can't wait to feel him inside you. But you're also a little nervous. You know him, you know he won't hurt you, but this has all happened so suddenly and quite unexpectedly. As if sensing it, he looks at you and asks softly, "Are you ready for me, beautiful?" You blink, feeling a little breathless, but you nod and say, "I couldn't be more ready." He smirks, looks down, grips the base of his cock and guides the tip to your pussy. Hunter is hungry, very much so, but he takes it slow, applying only gentle pressure at first, prodding at your entrance, softly. You bend your legs and pull them up, opening your thighs invitingly a little wider for him.

Hunter applies more pressure, parts your wet folds and slowly advances between your slick walls. You watch him as he tenses his muscles. He licks his lips, looks down and watches in fascination as his hard length sinks into you. As he bottoms out in you, he closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. The feeling is intense, for both of you. For him as your wet heat closes around his cock, his senses full of you, and for you as he stretches and fills you. One of his hands moves to your hip and grips gently but firmly, the other moves to your pubic area. His fingertips gently glide over your clit, which is swollen, gently pulsing. Your legs clamp gently but firmly around his hips, showing him you're ready for more. Hunter smiles in satisfaction. He can definitely feel and smell your willingness. He knows that his fingers dancing on your pearl have got you going again. His hips pull back a bit and thrust into you again. A soft wet sound, accompanied by the impact of naked skin on naked skin, fills the room. He takes you slowly, but he gradually speeds up. You feel each thrust, erotically invading, combined with your pearl pulsing under his fingers, and you lean your head back.

Hunter watches you, your every movement, the way your breasts move with each of his thrusts, and again and again he looks down, watching your bodies merge. "This is so good, Hunter," you moan, pushing against his thrusts, using your hands on the bench to push. He's getting faster and faster. The accelerating, lewd sound of your bodies colliding with each thrust, mixed with your lustful sounds, is like music to his ears. The tension, the intensity increases, you feel it too. You automatically tense your abdomen, causing your pussy to close even tighter around his cock.

He lets out a half-swallowed moan. His fingers on your clit quicken, his whole body tense, hard as granite. You groan out in a near whisper, "So close." "Good girl," Hunter presses out breathlessly.

His thrusts become irregular, he bites his lower lip, his hand on your hip grips tighter. Your climax pulses through the center of your body, makes your pussy twitch, and your thighs shake. A curse comes across your lips. The next moment you hear him let out a deep, drawn-out moan, feel his warm seed coating your walls. Two-three more slow, firm thrusts and Hunter pauses, breathing heavily. You both catch your breath, only now noticing that everything here smells musty like an old gym, mixed with the distinct tangy, salty smell of sex. He leaves your body, gently cleans you with the towel. Then, finally, your eyes meet again. You look at each other for a moment, then both of you grin. "That was an interesting workout," you say, laughing softly. He chuckles and says, "That's something Wolffe sure didn't show you." You look at him cheekily and say, "How would you know?" Hunter frowns, his smile disappears, he doesn't seem to know quite what to say. You can see his shoulders tense. You chuckle and say, "You should see your face. Relax Sergeant, you're the only soldier who's been between my thighs so far."

Hunter's shoulders relax again, he raises a brow in amusement, "If you don't mind, I'd like to remain the only one in the future"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

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@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@bandnerdlevel43

248 notes · View notes

ghostchems · 10 months

Note

nervous kiss x “can I kiss you?” with secundo 🫣

ha ha ha ha. about 1.2k words! we love a mysterious, nervous secondo.

The man had been coming in during your shift for the last few months. He would always order the same thing - a doppio espresso and sit at the end of the bar either reading or writing something in a tiny, black pocket notebook. At first, you weren’t sure about him — the face paint could be off-putting at times and it took you a few visits to realize that there were times he came in without it, his mismatched eyes hidden with dark sunglasses. You ended up recognizing his voice and put two and two together.

He never bothers anyone, only staying on his stool, deep in his reading and writing. It was difficult for you to not be drawn to him, the man wears skull paint and is so very relaxed about it. Yet, you realized you’ve never seen him smile. You started to have his espresso ready for him as soon as you saw him come in and you swear the first time you did it, you saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a minuscule grin. The more you had his espresso ready for him, the more he began to speak to you, starting off with small pleasantries and moving into some easy conversations.

He told you he went by Secondo but wouldn’t share much else about himself so you ended up telling him how this is a second job for you to help make ends meet but that you also really enjoy making drinks anyway. He seems fascinated with how you move behind the bar and will routinely take breaks from his work to watch you make people’s drinks, trying to guess what ingredients are needed. Secondo slowly became your favorite regular, especially after learning he only came into the store during your shifts.

During this particular shift, he hasn’t come in yet at his usual time and the thought that maybe he won’t be in today crosses your mind. The pre-closer has already left so you’re working on your closing tasks. It’s been a slow evening with steady rain outside, deterring the evening coffee drinkers. You’re working on wiping down the bar when he finally arrives, black umbrella in hand and his usual immaculate skull paint. You give him a small wave.

“On me today, Secondo.” You smile wide and he gives a small sigh before walking over to the bar. He knows better than to argue with you, at least when it comes to free drinks. You pull his shots of espresso as he gets settled, laying out his book and his notebook on the counter.

“Just you tonight, dolce?” His thick Italian accent rolls off his tongue.

“Mhmm. You’re in late today.”

“Ah, la pioggia, the rain kept me away but… well, I needed my doppio.” He offers a smile - he’s been doing that more often these days and it makes your chest tighten.

“Well, thank you for visiting. It’s been slow today.” You wave a hand around the empty coffee shop. “I’ve been a little lonely.” You slide his cup and saucer toward him on the bar and he reaches for it, the smooth leather of his gloved finger brushes against yours. A breath catches in your throat.

“I am happy to keep you company, dolce.” He lifts the espresso cup that looks comical in his large hand to his lips and takes a sip. A content sigh escapes his lips.

You work quietly on your closing duties but still make sure to check in on him from time to time. As your break time gets closer, you eye up the display case for a snack. You settle on a brownie and you carefully take it out with a piece of parchment paper before putting it on a tray and sticking it into the oven for about ten seconds.

You carefully set the brownie on a plate and grab two spoons before making your way over to the bar. Secondo’s eyes drift along your figure as you come closer and he watches as you sit right beside him at the bar. You slide the brownie in between the two of you and settle a fork on his side of the place.

“Share this with me?” You scoot in closer to him and use your fork to take a small bite of brownie. This is the first time you’ve ever seen Secondo look so blank. He nods and picks up the fork, beginning to slowly pick at the brownie.

“It’s very good, dolce.” He says quietly between bites. His eyes shift to your face. “A-ah, you have a little something —“ Secondo points to your face. You swallow the piece of brownie and try to wipe at the spot he is pointing. “Let me.”

He leans in and reaches his hand out, carefully using his finger to wipe away the brownie crumbs at the corner of your mouth. You feel your cheeks flush at his touch and he lingers there for what feels like eternity. Secondo’s finger moves from the edge of your lip to your cheek, the tips of the rest of his fingers brushing against it. You suck in a short breath, your eyes fixed on his. His brows knit together, hand quivering before he gave a soft breath.

“Can… can I kiss you, dolce?” Secondo whispers, his voice barely audible. He looks unsure of himself and almost a little bit afraid, even though you almost immediately nod yes. His hand cups your cheek and he very slowly leans in, his lips ghosting yours before he presses them to yours. The taste of espresso still lingers as you kiss him back, your lips moving carefully against his. He pulls away just an inch, feeling his hot breath on your lips as he gazes into your eyes

You lean in again just as his hand drifts to firmly grip the back of your neck. Secondo groans quietly as your hands fall to his chest, your tongue moving against his. You forget about the brownie and the work you’re supposed to be doing, your hands running over his strong chest and moving in as close to him as you can, practically getting into his lap. He wraps his spare arm around you, holding you to him while he deepens the kiss, using his grip on your neck to tilt your head back.

You moan into the kiss, your eyes fluttering open slowly as he pulls away. The two of you are left panting, the brownie nearly out of your reach after you’ve made your way into his lap. His gloved fingers toy with your apron, his dark eyes meeting yours. Your breathing quiets and you lean a bit away from him to take him in.

“I should… I should probably finish up closing.” You can feel your entire face heat up, realizing that you had just made out with a customer.

“Mm, si, si.” He sucks in a breath. “May I wait for you? Maybe… take you out for a drink that isn’t coffee?”

You nearly fall out of his lap, though you’re able to get your legs working again. If he didn’t see your blush before, you’re sure he can see it now, feeling it all the way up to the tips of your ears.

“I would love that, Secondo.” You can hardly hide the excitement in your voice. His lips curl into a small smile and he clears his throat, reaching for his umbrella.

“I’ll leave you to it then, dolce. I’ll be outside waiting.”

#papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus x reader #smooth yet nervous secondo #secondo #Secondo x reader

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themorbidwriter · 5 months

Text

You had been on the road for what felt like an eternity, relentlessly driving through the desolate countryside. The sun was slowly setting, casting a warm glow across the landscape, which only served to highlight just how exhausted you were. The miles began to blur together, and you struggled to stay focused on the road ahead.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and a heavy yawn escaped your lips. Your stomach rumbled loudly, reminding you that it had been quite a while since your last meal. The hunger pangs intensified, making it impossible to ignore. You knew you couldn't continue like this for much longer.

Just as your eyes threatened to close again, a sudden movement caught your attention. In the periphery of your vision, you noticed a large truck driving alongside your car. Intrigued, you turned your head towards the window, diverting your gaze from the road for a moment. The black semi truck loomed beside you, its massive tires rolling along the asphalt, creating a rumbling vibration that you could feel in your car. The vehicle seemed to exude a sense of mystery, its bold exterior contrasting against the mundanity of the other cars on the road.

Curiosity sparked within you, and you found yourself captivated by the truck's sheer size and power. It commanded attention, its presence impossible to ignore as it effortlessly matched the speed of your own vehicle. The truck's gleaming metallic surface reflected the sunlight, catching your eye and drawing you in further.

Unable to resist any longer, your focus shifted from the road to the truck beside you. The world around you momentarily faded away, replaced by a sense of fascination and intrigue. You wondered about the stories this truck could tell, the places it had traveled, and the adventures it had embarked on.

Suddenly, a voice came crackling through your CB radio, startling you out of your reverie. "Hey there, darlin'. Enjoying the view, are we?" The deep, gravelly voice belonged to a truck driver—a voice full of charm and confidence. Startled, you quickly refocused your attention on the road ahead, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and surprise. You hadn't realized you were so engrossed in observing the truck that you had become oblivious to your surroundings.

Gathering your composure, you smiled sheepishly as you grabbed the speaker off it's hook you pressed the talk button and you replied, "Um, yeah. Just caught my eye, I guess. Sorry about that." A soft chuckle came through the speakers, resonating with warmth. "No need to apologize, sweetheart. It happens to the best of us. Sometimes the road gets so monotonous, we find ourselves searching for something to break the routine. Looks like I became that something for you today."

Curiosity got the better of you, and you leaned closer to the radio as you spoke. "It's just… I've been driving for hours, and I was starting to lose focus. Your truck caught my attention, and it's been a welcome distraction." The truck driver's voice took on a hint of amusement. "Well, I reckon it's not every day someone finds my old rig captivating. But it does have a way of mesmerizing folks, I must admit. Gives me the feeling of being king of the road, you know?"

You couldn't help but smile at his words, a pang of envy twirling within you. "I bet it's quite the adventure, driving a truck like that. Seeing all kinds of places and meeting interesting people along the way." There was a quiet pause on the other end, as if the truck driver was contemplating your words.

"Well, darlin', it's not always easy. Long hours, lonely moments, and the constant rumble of the engine can wear a person down. But you're right, there's something exhilarating about the open road, the freedom it offers." as you listened to the man speaking on the radio, your stomach suddenly betrayed you. It growled loudly, echoing through the empty car.

The sound startled you, causing you to glance down at your rumbling stomach as if it had just sprouted a voice of its own. Chuckling to yourself you pressed the talk button on the CB radio, clearing your throat before speaking, "I didn't catch your name, by the way?" There was a moment of silence on the airwaves, followed by a deep, raspy voice full of intrigue. "Well, darlin', they call me Rusty Nail. And who might I be talking to?"

As you paused to ponder his question, you turned your head and observed the truck driving alongside you. The sound of the engine hummed in your ears, momentarily distracting you from your thoughts. Refocusing on the road, you pressed the talk button on the speaker and began to introduce yourself. "Uh, well, my name is (Y/N), but my friends call me Candy Crush. They also call me a temperamental midget…" You couldn't help but chuckle at the strange combination of nicknames. But suddenly, the realization hit you - you were rambling. Your laughter turned nervous as you interrupted yourself with a hasty apology, "Sorry, I'm rambling."

As Rusty Nail remained silent, a sense of doubt crept into your mind. Perhaps he had lost interest in your banter. But just when you thought the conversation had reached its end, he surprised you by speaking up. "Candy Crush, huh? How do you get a name like that?" Amused by his curiosity, you let out a quiet laugh before pressing the talk button once again. "Uh, well, I had this habit of putting hard candy in my coffee and making a weird… flavor. Whether it was with candy canes or those stupid watermelon-shaped candies, I would add them to my coffee. And, well, I basically got labeled Candy Crush because I practically drowned candy in my coffee."

You could almost envision the questioning look on Rusty Nail's face. It was an odd quirk, to say the least, but it had become a defining characteristic for you. The silence lingered for a moment, leaving you wondering what he would say next. Would he find it strange or intriguing? After what felt like an eternity, Rusty Nail finally broke the silence with a hearty chuckle. "Well, darlin', you've certainly got a knack for making the mundane a little more interesting. Candy Crush it is then." Relieved by his positive response, a smile crept across your face. It was refreshing to connect with someone who appreciated your quirks instead of viewing them as something to be mocked or dismissed.

As you glanced at your watch and realized it was getting late, you decided to check in with Rusty Nail, the truck driver who had been providing you some company. Pressing the talk button on the speaker, you cleared your throat before asking, "Say, uh, hey Rusty? You ever drove in this area before?" Rusty's gravelly voice crackled through the speaker, "Oh, you betcha, sweetheart. I've been on these roads for years. Why do you ask?"

Your eyes shifted from his truck driving beside your car and back to the road ahead as you continued driving. "Well, I'm getting pretty hungry. Just wondering if there's a town coming up anytime soon where I can grab some food." Rusty chuckled on the other end, the sound echoing through the speaker. "Ah, I gotcha. Well, there's a little town called Blackwood a few miles ahead. They got a decent diner there called the Blue Moon. Been there a couple of times myself. Might wanna check it out."

As you thought about what he said, you then pressed the talk button on the speaker again, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Hey, thank you!" you exclaimed, unable to hide the grin spreading across your face. "I know this is sudden, but if you aren't really in too much of a hurry, Rusty, I could meet you there… and, well," you hesitated for a moment, checking your watch, "I could buy you dinner."

You couldn't help but feel your heart racing in anticipation, unsure of how he would react to your offer. As Rusty fell silent, you turned your head slightly, stealing a glance at the roaring truck next to you. His mysterious presence was captivating, and you found yourself caught between the thrill of spending time with him and the reality of the dangerous situation you were in.

As you shifted your eyes back to the road, focusing on the path ahead, Rusty finally broke the silence. "You sure?" his voice rumbled through the speaker. The hint of skepticism in his tone made you pause, contemplating your decision once again. Was it wise to trust a stranger you only knew through these sporadic encounters on the road?

But then, a laugh escaped your lips as you pressed the talk button once more, feeling a surge of confidence. "Well, truckers do get hungry, don't they?" you replied teasingly. The twinkle in your eyes was reflected in your voice, the electric connection between you and Rusty growing stronger with each passing moment. Rusty let out a deep chuckle, his warm voice enveloping you through the speaker. "You got me there," he replied playfully. "And if you're offering, who am I to turn down a free meal?"

The sound of his laughter echoed in your ears, igniting a sense of warmth within you. It was as if you had known Rusty your whole life, even though you had only exchanged a few words over the radio. The idea of meeting him in person both thrilled and frightened you; the allure of the unknown mingled with the thrill of taking a leap of faith. With a newfound determination, you pushed down on the accelerator, feeling the engine roar to life beneath you. The miles melted away beneath your tires as you headed towards Blackwood. The town's name held an air of mystery, as if it was a place frozen in time, waiting to reveal its secrets to those who dared to seek them.

As the landscape changed around you, the sight of towering pines and the sweet scent of pine needles engulfed your senses, adding to the anticipation that coiled in your stomach. The road stretched out before you, an endless ribbon leading you closer to Blackwood and the encounter that awaited you there. Finally, you arrived at the outskirts of the quaint town, the familiarity of small-town life washing over you like a gentle breeze. The streets were lined with charming storefronts, their colorful facades a stark contrast to the open highway you had left behind. Drawn by an invisible force, you followed the signs leading you to the heart of the town, where the Blue Moon diner awaited.

As Rusty's semi truck rumbled to a halt beside your car, you felt a surge of excitement coursing through your veins. This was the moment you had been waiting for, the moment you would finally come face to face with the enigmatic Rusty Nail. With a quickened heart rate, you hastily grabbed your purse, shutting off your car and stepping out into the cool breeze. As you stood there, the anticipation building, you couldn't help but wonder what Rusty Nail would look like. The image you had conjured in your mind was of a rugged, fearless figure, someone who commanded attention with his very presence.

You were brought back to reality as you heard the truck door push open, the sound echoing through the air. The metallic clink of Rusty's boots hitting the concrete sent a thrill down your spine, heightening the suspense. And then the door slammed shut with a resounding thud. Rusty Nail made his way around the massive vehicle in long, purposeful strides. As he approached you, you found yourself craning your neck to meet his gaze, stunned by his towering stature. He was tall, very tall, surpassing any expectations you had set in your mind.

As you stared up at him, taking in his striking features, a laugh escaped your lips, bubbling up from pure excitement. It was a nervous laugh, tinged with disbelief as you softly asked, "You are Rusty Nail?" Rusty Nail glanced down at you with a playful smirk and his piercing eyes seemed to twinkle with mischief. His voice rumbled low, with a touch of gravel, as he replied, "That's me, darlin'. The one and only."

Intrigued and slightly flustered, you continued with a playful grin, "Well, I must admit, you're not quite what I pictured. I expected a rough, tough trucker with a shadowy demeanor. But here you are, towering over me with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes." Rusty let out a deep, rumbling laugh that sent shivers down your spine. "Well, darlin', sometimes appearances can be deceiving. But trust me, I've got enough roughness and toughness to go around. And as for the mischievous twinkle, well, that's a trademark of mine."

As he spoke, Rusty's voice carried a hint of warmth and a touch of danger, a dangerous combination that made your heart flutter. It was clear that he was a man of few words, but each one held weight and added to his enigmatic allure. With a tilt of his head, Rusty motioned for you to follow him inside the Blue Moon diner. As you stepped through the door, the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and home-cooked meals enveloped your senses. The atmosphere was cozy and inviting, filled with the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of silverware against plates.

You couldn't help but notice the looks of curiosity and intrigue from the other patrons as you followed Rusty to a booth in the corner of the diner. It seemed as though everyone knew his name, his presence commanding an air of respect and admiration. You wondered what stories he had to tell, what adventures he had embarked on, to earn such a reputation in this small town. Sitting across from Rusty, you couldn't help but feel a mix of nervousness and excitement. His eyes held a hint of mystery, as if they held secrets and experiences that spanned a lifetime. You found yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to break the silence and fill the air with his gravelly voice once more.

Finally, Rusty leaned back in his seat, an easy smile gracing his lips. He motioned for the waitress, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, who quickly approached the table with a notepad in hand. "What'll it be today, Rusty?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of familiarity. Rusty glanced at you, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, before turning back to the waitress. "Why don't you surprise us, Helen? Whatever you recommend," he replied.

Helen nodded and jotted down their order before disappearing into the kitchen. The anticipation in the air was palpable as you locked eyes with Rusty, his gaze filled with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. It felt as if he was peering into your soul, unraveling your thoughts, your desires, while keeping his own carefully guarded. Both of you had been waiting for your order to arrive, and as the silence began to stretch on, you decided to break it.

"So, you're a regular in this diner?" you asked curiously, breaking the silence that had settled between you. Rusty looked up, a small smile gracing his lips. It was clear that he appreciated the attempt at conversation. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," he replied, tapping his fingers on the table absentmindedly. "I've been coming here for years. The food is great, and the staff is always friendly."

as you slowly nodded your head, a grin forming on your lips. His suggestion for this place was impressive, but you couldn't help the thought that lingered in your mind. "How many girls did you suggest this place to, though?" you playfully questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Just me, or was there a long list of other lucky ladies?"

Rusty chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Well, I'll have you know, darlin', you're the first one to get the Blue Moon recommendation. I reckon it's my way of making sure someone as special as you gets to experience it."

His words sent a rush of warmth through your body, and you couldn't help but blush at his compliment. Rusty had a way of making you feel seen and valued, even in such a short amount of time. It was both exhilarating and slightly unnerving, the intensity of the connection between the two of you.

As the waitress, Helen, returned with your orders, the aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Your stomach grumbled in response, and Rusty's playful smirk widened. "Looks like Helen knows what she's doing," he remarked, taking a sip of his coffee.

You couldn't help but agree, the sight of the steaming plates in front of you making your mouth water. The two of you dug into your meals, savoring the delicious flavors that danced on your taste buds. The conversation flowed easily between bites.

"This is better than sex," you exclaimed, surprising both yourself and those around you. The words slipped out naturally, a testament to the incredible culinary experience you were currently immersed in. The combination of textures and tastes, carefully crafted by the talented chef, had transcended the realm of mere food and elevated it to a level of ecstasy that often eluded you.

Rusty burst into laughter, clearly caught off guard by your exclamation. "Well, I'll be damned," he chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I guess you're really enjoying yourself, huh?" You nodded enthusiastically, a wide grin spreading across your face. "Absolutely! This food is absolutely incredible. I never knew a simple meal at a diner could taste this good."

Helen, the waitress, couldn't help but let out a laugh as she passed by your table. "I'm glad you're enjoying it, hon. We take pride in our dishes here at the Blue Moon." As the plates were cleared away, you found yourself reluctant to let the evening come to an end. There was something special about this encounter, something that defied logic and reason. It felt as if fate had intervened, bringing the two of you together for a reason.

Rusty leaned back in his seat, his eyes filled with a mixture of contentment and curiosity. "You know," he began, his voice tinged with a touch of vulnerability, "I didn't expect this when I got on the road today. Meeting someone like you, it's a rare and unexpected gift."

"You know what they say, Rusty," you grinned, taking a sip of your drink before continuing, "rare and unexpected gifts are normally a gift from whatever god created this fucked up world. So, I take that rare and unexpected gift as a sign that the world really isn't as fucked up as we thought it was."

Rusty raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What kind of rare and unexpected gift are we talking about here?" he asked with a playful smirk, leaning closer. As your eyes were drawn towards his lips, a surge of anticipation coursed through your veins. The air between you and Rusty Nail crackled with intense chemistry, building up to a perfect moment that hung in the balance. Your heart raced in sync with the anticipation, as you leaned in closely, dangerously close to stealing a kiss.

But in that very moment, as your lips hovered mere millimeters apart, a voice broke the spell. It was Helen oblivious to the magnetic energy that had filled the room. With a sigh of disappointment, you pulled away slightly, realizing that this stolen moment had been disrupted. "Fuck," Rusty whispered under his breath, his disappointment echoing in the air. It was a quiet expletive, laced with frustration and desire. The timing couldn't have been worse, and the interruption left both of you yearning for what could have been.

Feeling slightly awkward, you reached up to rub the back of your neck, a subconscious gesture to alleviate the tension that still hung in the air. Feeling the awkwardness settle upon the moment, In that moment, you decided to reach for the check.

But just as you reached out, your fingertips brushing against the cold surface of the check, Rusty's hand shot forward, matching your movement. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent protest. "Let me take care of this," Rusty said softly, his voice filled with determination. His eyes met yours, communicating volumes without speaking a word. A mischievous smirk played on your lips as you turned to Rusty. "Rusty, let me pay for dinner," you suggested.

Rusty shook his head, an infectious grin spreading across his face. "I don't think so," he replied, a twinkle of playfulness in his eyes. "The man should always pay for the dinner" You chuckled, leaning forward, your eyes lighting up. "But Rusty, I was the one who invited you for dinner," you countered. "Doesn't that warrant an exception?"

Rusty matched your movement, leaning forward and meeting your gaze. "Yeah, well, I was the one who told you about this place," he retorted, a hint of victory in his voice. "So, therefore, I get to pay." You paused, pondering on a witty comeback, but your mind drew a blank. A slight frown creased your forehead as you watched him take out his wallet and set the check down on the table. Grumbling playfully under your breath, you couldn't help but admire his persistence and determination.

With a resigned sigh, you reached for your purse and pulled out some bills, tapping them on the table. "Fine," you grumbled with mock annoyance. "But let me leave the tip at least. It's the least I can do." Rusty chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Deal," he agreed, sliding the money towards you. "You can take care of the tip. But next time, it's my treat."

As you and Rusty walked out of the small, cozy diner, a sense of tranquility settled upon the streets. The night air was heavy with the impending rain, casting a slight mist over the dimly-lit sidewalks. You closed your eyes for a moment, tilting your head back to fully immerse yourself in the gentle aroma that hung in the atmosphere. "It's going to rain soon," you remarked, your voice barely above a whisper. The anticipation of the downpour brought a tinge of excitement to your voice. You had always loved the rain, and the way it transformed the world around you.

Rusty turned his gaze towards you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, it's one of those things, ain't it?" he responded, his voice husky yet soothing. "Rain has a way of keeping everyone inside, tucked away from the world, while it washes everything clean outside." His words resonated with you, aligning perfectly with your own emotions. There was something magical about rain, something that made you feel alive and connected to the world. You watched as Rusty reached into his pocket, retrieving a worn pack of cigarettes.

With a practiced hand, he withdrew one cigarette from the pack, expertly discarding the plastic wrapper before returning the pack to the safety of his pocket. He placed the slender cylinder between his lips, grasping a lighter from his other pocket. The flickering flame danced at the tip of the lighter as he brought it closer to the cigarette, igniting it with a soft crackle.

Taking a deep breath, Rusty inhaled the intoxicating mixture of tobacco and rain-scented air. The smoke swirled gently around his lips as he exhaled, creating a haze of tranquility that mirrored the calm before the storm. "There's something about the rain, you know?" he spoke again, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. "It's like nature's way of restoring balance, purifying our surroundings. Makes you appreciate the calm after the storm."

As you stood there watching Rusty Nail smoke his cigarette, tendrils of smoke curling up into the air, you found yourself inexplicably drawn towards him. There was something intriguing about the way he exuded confidence and mystery, even while engaged in such a mundane activity like smoking. With each puff, his expression seemed to deepen, as if lost in his own thoughts. Unable to resist the curiosity any longer, you took a small step closer to him, the toe of your shoe barely grazing the ground. You wanted to get a closer look, to quench the growing desire to understand this enigmatic person before you.

Rusty turned slightly, the corner of his lips twitching into a half-smile as he noticed your approach. The glint in his eyes matched the glowing ember at the tip of his cigarette. "Something on your mind, sweetheart?" he asked in a low, husky voice that sent shivers down your spine. Summoning all your courage, you reached out and delicately plucked the cigarette from between his lips. Time seemed to slow as your fingers brushed against his, feeling the faint traces of heat left behind. With a hint of mischief, you brought the cigarette to your lips, carefully placing it between them.

Taking a deep breath, you inhaled the smoke, feeling its intoxicating warmth fill your lungs. The taste was both harsh and strangely alluring, just like Rusty himself. It was an act of rebellion, seizing the moment and letting go of any inhibitions that held you back. As you exhaled the smoke, it mingled with the air around you, creating an ethereal cloud that hung between you and Rusty. His eyes flickered with surprise, his smile widening. "Well, well, someone's got a taste for danger," he remarked with a mix of amusement and admiration.

There was a charged silence between you, the air thick with unspoken desires and unexplored possibilities. You couldn't help but wonder what other boundaries you could push with Rusty, what other forbidden experiences awaited. "I've never seen someone snatch a cigarette from my lips and take a drag so boldly," Rusty finally broke the silence, his voice carrying a hint of intrigue. "You've caught my attention, darlin'. Care to share more of that rebellious spirit?"

You couldn't deny the fizzing excitement building within you as Rusty knelt down to light another cigarette. With a coy smile, you took a cigarette from the pack he offered, leaning closer to him. "Perhaps," you whispered, your voice laden with newfound confidence. "But only if you can handle a little mischief of your own." Rusty's eyes sparkled with a mixture of surprise and anticipation as he leaned in, his face now only inches away from yours. The raindrops began to fall, splattering gently on the pavement and creating a symphony of soft pitter-patters around you. It felt as though the entire world had faded away, leaving only the two of you locked in this moment of shared defiance.

His free hand reached out, brushing against your cheek, fingers tracing the outline of your jaw. The touch sent tingles coursing through your body, igniting a fire within you. His eyes held a magnetic pull, drawing you closer until your breaths mingled and your lips were almost touching. The streetlights above cast an ethereal glow, illuminating Rusty's features, accentuating the contours of his face. You watched as his lips curved into a mischievous smile, his eyes full of a daring playfulness. "Oh, darlin', you're about to unleash a storm," he murmured in a low, husky voice that sent shivers down your spine.

As you gazed up at Rusty Nail, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your heart you were completely smitten. as the darkening clouds started to roll in, you couldn't help but worry about his safety of driving on wet roads. "You know, if it's going to rain, then maybe you should uh…pull over for the night. I mean, all that rain, the roads could be slick, right?" Rusty's eyes bore into you, and you could feel your heart racing. he actually seemed to consider your suggestion. You continued, "And if you look behind me, there's actually a motel right across the street. Talk about location - a diner right across from a motel."

As Rusty's gaze shifted across the street, you noticed him checking out the motel before looking back at you. even then, Rusty didn't say a word. He simply nodded his head, his rugged features softening into a smile. Before you could even process what was happening, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. "You go ahead and drive your car over there," he said, his voice filled with a warm affection. "I'll meet you over there as soon as I finish my cigarette, okay?"

you wasted no time in getting into your car and driving across the street. You could feel the adrenaline rush through your body as you caught a glimpse of Rusty standing in the diner parking lot, finishing his cigarette. He watched you curiously as you parked in front of the motel office before quickly getting out and running inside to check in. After getting the room number thirteen, you walked out of the office and headed to your room. As you walked, you couldn't help but turn your head as you saw Rusty's black semi truck pulling into the parking lot. A grin spread across your face as you watched him drive past to find a place to park.

As you walked inside your room, you dropped the key on the couch and headed into the bathroom to take a quick shower. You didn't want Rusty to smell the cigarette smoke on you. You chuckled to yourself as you thought about how ironic it was that you were trying to impress him by getting rid of the smell of his own cigarette. you walked out of the bathroom of the rundown motel, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. The warm water from the shower had managed to ease the tension in your body, as you turned to face the bed, the first thing you noticed was that Rusty was already sitting there waiting for you, his eyes focused on the TV as he aimlessly flipped through channels. You couldn't blame him, the options were either terrible porn or boring movies, with the occasional bad reality TV show thrown in.

As you slid into bed beside him, he immediately wrapped an arm around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was small, He then turned off the TV and tossed the remote onto the couch; his attention was now fully on you. "I was getting bored without you," he said with a small smirk, causing you to let out a small laugh. You shrugged your shoulders, letting out a sigh. "I just needed to get the cigarette smoke off of me," you explained, Rusty's smile widened as he looked at you. "Are you getting all prettied up just for me?" he teased, making you playfully roll your eyes. "You wish," you replied with a smirk, earning a playful pinch from Rusty.

As you got comfortable on the bed next to him, you couldn't help but turn your head to look up at him. What you saw took your breath away. Rusty was already looking at you, his intense gaze sending shivers down your spine. The air between you two felt charged with unspoken desire as you stared into each other's eyes. Without a word, Rusty pulled you onto his lap, his hands resting on your hips as he leaned in closer to you. Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You knew that something was about to happen, but you didn't know what. Suddenly, Rusty's voice broke the silence, sending a jolt of excitement through you.

"Strip for me," he said, his voice low and commanding. But it wasn't just his words that captivated you, it was the way he said them. Slowly, almost teasingly, as if savoring every word. You could feel his fingers trailing down your thigh, his touch igniting a fire within you. You looked into Rusty's eyes as you began to strip, baring yourself to him like a trophy as you took off each piece of clothing the way he was looking at you only fueled the fire within you.

As you slowly revealed more and more of your body, Rusty's eyes never left yours. His gaze was so intense, as if he was devouring every inch of you. You could feel yourself becoming more and more turned on, your body responding to his touch.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, as if in awe of what he was seeing. And just like that, the last of your clothes were discarded on the floor, leaving you completely exposed to Rusty's hungry eyes. Every inch of your skin was practically on fire as he continued to run his hands along your body.

Rusty didn't immediately pounce on you with wild abandon, as you may have expected. Instead, he took his time, savoring every moment of your striptease. He caressed your body gently, worshiping it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. The way that Rusty looked at you and touched you made you feel cherished and desired in a way you never had before.

As your back pressed against the mattress, Rusty slowly stripped out of his clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. You couldn't help but feel a wave of desire rush through your body as his naked form came into view. The way his muscles flexed with each movement, the soft golden glow of his skin, it was all too mesmerizing.

As Rusty's body slid over yours, you couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. The way his warm skin brushed against yours was exhilarating, and you couldn't wait for more. Each kiss left a trail of fire in its wake, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan. Rusty's hands traveled down your sides, caressing every inch of your skin with tenderness. He moved his lips down to your chest, placing delicate kisses on your cleavage, making your body tingle with pleasure.

His lips continued to move down, leaving a trail of hot kisses on your stomach. You could feel his breath against your skin, and it only added to the anticipation. As he reached your hips, he planted one last kiss before moving back up to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

The chemistry between the two of you was undeniable, and every touch and kiss seemed to fuel the fire even more. Rusty's hands roamed all over your body, memorizing every curve and crevice. You could feel his desire building and matching your own. "I can't get enough of you," he whispered, breaking the kiss to look into your eyes.

You could see the sincerity in his eyes and it only made you want him more. His lips found your neck again, and you couldn't hold back the moans that escaped your lips. He nibbled and sucked on your skin, causing you to arch your back and dig your nails into his back.

"I want to make you feel good," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot against your neck. And that he did. Rusty's skilled fingers and lips explored every inch of your body, leaving you breathless and craving more. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you moan and writhe in pleasure. Every touch, every kiss, was like a symphony playing on your skin.

As Rusty's body slid up yours and your legs wrapped around his waist, his intense gaze fixed on you as he pinned your wrists to the mattress. You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine at his touch. His lips crashed onto yours, his hands moving to your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You could feel his body as it pressed against yours, his warmth radiating through your body. You let out a soft moan as Rusty’s hands traveled up your back, sending shivers down your spine.

As his lips trailed down your neck and onto your collarbone, you couldn't stop the shivers that ran through you. He seemed to know all your secret spots, all the places that made you weak in the knees. You let out a soft sigh of contentment, running your hands through his hair as he continued his explorations every moan that escaped your lips only encouraged him to push further.

As he slowly slid his throbbing dick inside you, your nails dug into his back, marking him as yours. His hips moved in a slow, gentle rhythm at first, savoring the moment. But as your nails continued to leave imprints on his skin, his movements became more fervent. His hips began to slam against yours, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.

Rusty’s thrusts became harder and faster, driving you both to the edge of ecstasy. You could feel the familiar warmth building up within you, hear your breath become ragged as you both approached your climax. His name fell from your lips like a prayer as you reached your peak, the intensity of your release crashing over you both.

As you lay there, panting and entwined, you couldn't help but feel like you were in perfect harmony with each other. But this moment of pure bliss was only the beginning of a night filled with passion and pleasure. Rusty’s lips never left yours, his hands never stopped roaming your body as he brought you to multiple orgasms. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust seemed to drive you both deeper into a state of ecstasy.

The warm rays of the morning sun peered through the thin curtains, gently waking you up from your peaceful slumber. As your eyes fluttered open, you found yourself lying in a cozy motel bed, snuggled up in the arms of the one and only Rusty Nail. As you gazed at his sleeping figure, you couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment of tranquility with him. A small yawn escaped your lips as you shifted slightly, your body reminding you of the wild night that just took place. You didn't want to disturb Rusty, who looked so peaceful in his sleep, so you carefully rolled over and propped yourself up on your elbow to admire his handsome features. His messy hair fell delicately over his forehead, giving him an endearing and relaxed look. You smiled to yourself, feeling so lucky to be right here in this moment with him.

Your eyes then wandered down to his broad chest, rising and falling with each steady breath. The rise and fall was almost mesmerizing, and you found yourself lost in its rhythm. A soft sigh escaped your lips, and as you looked back up at his face, you realized that Rusty was now awake and watching you with a grin on his face.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said in his deep and raspy voice, causing your heart to flutter. "Good morning," you replied, unable to stop the smile that spread across your face. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling you closer to him. You snuggled into his warm embrace, feeling a sense of comfort and safety in his arms.

#joy ride #rusty nail #rusty nail x reader

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ssentimentals · 9 months

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seventeen members as their natal charts: hoshi

sun in gemini, moon in gemini

this man is very social and friendly, more intelligent and serious than he looks; has a hard time concentrating and generally is not the best at being stable cause he gets bored quickly, he is temperamental and efficient, usually very comfortable in his skin and will help you to feel the same!

'just be yourself.' you startle, turning to see soonyoung leaning over the railing, looking at you with uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. 'and they will like you.'

swallowing the lump in your throat, you mutter: 'easy for you to say.'

you don't mean it in a rude way even if it comes out as such; it's just you can't imagine someone not liking soonyoung. his ability to just throw himself out there with an astonishing confidence that he'll be accepted anyway is something you're very jealous of, because being that open doesn't come naturally to you. it's sweet though, how he came out to offer some kind of support when you two are not exactly close.

'it really is easy,' he presses and you've never seen him look so serious before. he's always smiling, laughing, being the sunshine and to see frown etched between his eyebrows is very unusual. 'just go out there and be yourself and-'

'and what if they won't like me?' you interrupt, voicing out your hidden fear. 'what if they won't accept me?'

soonyoung easily jumps over the railing, now standing on your side and very, very close to you. his eyes shine with determination and when he takes your hand in his, you feel a little braver. 'they will like you,' he assures. 'but for that to happen you need to go out there and show yourself. how they'll like you without knowing you?'

you're not sure why he's so dead set on making you more confident, but you don't question his motives, smiling back at him. 'i'm not as open as you are,' you say. 'or as likable as you are.'

'you don't have to be,' this time he interlaces your fingers, effectively cutting air supply from your lungs with this gesture. his easiness starts to rub off on you. 'you just be you and don't worry about nothing else, okay? it's not like there's something else you can do.'

the truth in his words makes you take a deep breath and calm down. he is right, there's nothing else you can do. seeing how his words finally reached your mind, soonyoung smiles, swinging both of your hands from side to side. 'you'll do terrific. go, good luck! i'll be here.' at your questioning gaze, he winks. 'so you can tell me all about how it went.'

there's something shimmering here, you can tell that he wants to say something more but holds himself back. he squeezes your hands and you feel flow of bravery once more. maybe it's his magic power? 'thank you,' you say and move away, feeling his gaze on your back all the time.

this man approaches love in a relaxed and carefree manner and might have troubles with committing (needs someone active and easy-going for a partner, who will constantly fascinate him), is surpisingly not as emotional in love as you'd expect him to be, always keeps relationships fun, it's never boring with him!

'and then we can go on that boat thing, what do you think?'

hearing excitement in soonyoung's voice makes you smile. 'sure! if weather ends up being bad, we can try indoor archery? i heard they have it here.'

'and there's an indoor swimming pool,' soonyoung comments, watching your reaction closely. he knows he can be a lot, it's a bit hard for him to sit still when he is excited and he doesn't want to pressure you into agreeing to too many activities. 'or if that's too much-'

'oh, yeah, i also heard about the indoor swimming pool!' your smile is genuine and you easily reflect his excitement right back at him. 'we can go there after dinner, i think we'll be very busy with all activities whole day.'

you go on about different plans, but he's not really listening to you anymore. soonyoung doesn't know how to explain it, he is not sure that you'll understand. how every single time you agree to try something new with him, his heart grows bigger. how he is close to crying out of gratitude when you both stay level-headed during small fights. how he is always - constantly, 24/7 - is in awe from you. he decides to let the last part out, because you deserve to know: 'you fascinate me.' he watches you turn to him, surprised. for a good measure he adds: 'always. all the time. i don't know how you do it, to be honest.'

he sees your shy answering smile and thinks that maybe he met the one. he never thought he would, not with how 'too much' he is, not with how hard relationships can be to him sometimes. but when you step closer and whisper that this feeling is mutual, that you are fascinated by him too, he feels his hope spark up in his heart. he'll never stop being in awe from you, finding everything, every small little thing about fascinating and otherwordly. it won't stop, not now, not ever.

a/n: your honor, this boy makes me go '!!!' and my heart can't take it anymore :( - nini

tagging @prpldahy

my masterlist is here

#seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen hoshi #hoshi imagine #hoshi x reader #seventeen kwon soonyoung #kwon soonyoung #kwon soonyoung x reader #svt hoshi #svt imagine #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen hoshi imagine #i think him not being very emotional in relationships (aka facing fights calmly) can be a surprise BUT #his whole chart points to that not only these 2 placements

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voidcat · 1 year

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a follow up to roommate!kunikuzushi bc i can and i will and i need this. Dk how long this is (not very long im sure), gn!Reader as always, enjoy, I still don’t like storms or rainy days

when kunikuzushi returns back to your shared place from a night out with childe, he does not expect to find you back, sprawled on the couch and deep in slumber.

whenever it is holiday season, you always go and stay until the last minute, savoring your precious time at home.

so why are you here now?

for now, kuni lets you rest, it is far late into the night and he knows he needs the time and energy to recover from another night spent out with childe.

he does poke around and bother you the next morning but not pressing into it too much, just a jab here and there, some complaints about how his time alone is now cut short because of you– the last day to yourselves, you settle for a movie day, back into your routine so easily. too easy at that your head falls onto his shoulder and he does his best to protect his position.

the topic of your life back home goes over kuni until you need to go back home and retrive few items one weekend, looking for someone to accompany you, preferably with a car and all.

sitting down at the dinner table with your parents, kunikuzushi finally has a grasp of the why. your mindless nods and sounds indicating you are listening– when he knows for a fact that you are not, he has spent far too much with you to know the signs.

loading the items and furniture to the trunk, with kuni grunting every five seconds that this is not merely 'few items', that you are back on the road.

it has been an idea floating around for some time to keep up the whole roommates deal now, just thrown around here and there, even by childe and few mutual friends.

it is ideal, the two of you have grown used to one another's way of living, tricks and antics, ticks and kicks. it is only logical to keep this up, graduation or not.

"so tell me again how you got ajax agreeing to lend you his car?" your voice draws him out of nowhere, a glass of cold water thrown at his face.

taking a deep breath in and out, making that right turn and keeping his eyes on the road, kunikuzushi tries his best to sound neutral.

"this is my car."

instead of your quick replies, all he gets from you is silence. casting a quick glance at you to make sure you are not dead or asleep or anything– only to be met with your curious face eyeing him, he is taken back.

"no shit." "what's so unbelievable about this?!"

he can hear you mutter under your breath, avoiding his question, "i didn't know you were rich."

despite knowing how one another works, the two of you really lack when it comes to your family backgrounds, turns out.

so when the two of you are back home– home, it has a nice ring to it, though odd at first, when you think too long about it– you mumble something about how it is exhausting to exist at your house.

he can tell that much, especially with the way you acted over the weekend compared to how you normally act under the same room as he does.

There is a sliver of moment when you are still you, the you he knows and a truer image of yourself. Parents away for the time being, you invite yourself into his temporary room and open the lid of tye instrument by the wall– only sitting down do you offer a sheepish smile, as if coming to realize his presence by your side only now.

Yet you still sit there and play, chuckle inbetween and say you’ve gone rusty but kunikuzushi does not care. He watches his breath held, fascinated, yet careful to remain that passiveness of his face, do not show anything, do not reveal how your insides feel.

So in turn, he offers a view of his life back home– or when he was still there, about his mother and her wife, his sister that he only mentions out of technical details if anything.

He sounds bitter almost, hurt, lonely– until a smile forms on his lips, one he is yet to he aware of, that he says your cooking reminds him of ‘auntie buer’

the two of you drop the topic of families as quick as it began then. Now the talks of keeping this housing arrangement up gaining a sense of possibility, taking a more solid view in your minds.

Whenever you attend a night out youre invited, kuni begins to accompany you– you are almost certain it first began with ajax’s invitations but you know he would rather die than to ever admit that.

It does has its perks though when game nights turn into nights out without a notice and strangers come up. All it takes is a look from kuni to scare them off, granting you invincibility.

there are downsides to this little agreement however; just because kuni and you have gotten used to throwing silly nicknames and terms of endearment– be it for an act or not, does not mean your friends have.

ajax almost spits his own drink, lumine just stares at you as if you have gone crazy, perhaps you have, some however see this as an invitation to chaos and make the matters worse for you two, teasing you at every chance they get, calling you doves and all that, even kissy faces on the nights you leave earlier than the rest.

kunikuzushi finds himself unreasonable for such petty feelings but with each passing day, the presence of that stray cat you let in gets on his nerves more.

you insist again and again that the cat has all her vaccines done, going for regular check-ups, no parasites internal or outside, a well mannered cat that does not even enter the kitchen area– all your pleas and debates come empty handed because none of these are the real cause.

he simply finds himself more and more agitated whenever he sees you cuddle with that cat– on the couch after a long day, at night when you leave your door open, keeping the cat close to your chest, her head on your arm, your lips almost touching the top of her head, how you gently massage her scalp and give her pets–

he needs to get himself together.

when kunikuzushi is called back home for a meeting, he finds himself dragging his feet.

not exactly dying to see his mother or that vixen, or that robot for a sister he has, not dying to be looked down once more for expressing humane emotions, displaying human behavior and overall... existing.

who will make sure you do not starve yourself when he is away? the finals season is close and he knows you were not prepared for it, once again. with how it has been going with you lately, he wouldn't be surprised if you forgot to use the bathroom altogether.

all that food you've been consuming is not healthy for you either, a little change of cultures once in a while would not hurt. he knows your digestive system would appreciate it, as would you, even though you always roll your eyes when he tells you to 'just shut it and do the dishes at least, will you?' whenever he cooks for you.

the list goes on, he can go for hours counting every negative thing that can happen during his absence– a weekend is too long a time to be away, too long to be dealing with them, staying would be the logical optio– "stop with the excuses and grow a spine already!" you exclaim, half joking, half serious, "how bad can it be?"

kunikuzushi has an answer for that too but he decides to keep that one to himself. though he did not care much about his home life before, spending the holidays on campus alone with himself, or accepting childe's never ending invitations to join his family certainly spoiled him to an extent.

One foot out of the door, then another, one by one descending and hearing the familiar beep of the car, only when he is about to shut the door and start the engine does your hand hold the door still and grant him a gentle smile.

“Hey, if things go sour with your family and all, you can always join mine, yeah?”

Closing the door, you wave as he stares at you, at a loss for words. What is it you mean exactly, were you not dreading the recent time spent with your family, what does that make you– the two of you, have you been noticing the recent changes within your dynamic too?

With a smile you send him off, splashing a glass of water after him just as he has put a decent distance between you both.

He supposed it’s another weird cultural thing you’ll have to explain him and receive his eye rolls in return.

When Kuni wakes up groggy and checks his phone, every cell in his brain yells in unison to return to the warm embrace of his bed, his throat however begging for a sense of relief itself.

On the way to the kitchen in the absolute silence and eminent darkness of the hour, he hears a sound— trying to make itself small with his signaling footsteps.

The street lights coming from the window and illuminating the room answers his questions before they can bloom– you sit there in nothingness with a plate in front of you, wrapped tight in your favorite blanket, your face worse than he has ever seen.

The thunder thickens, the drops of the rain begin to hit against the windows like iron nails and he notices the state of the weather then.

Without a word, he walks past you, ignoring your half assed attempts of watching him from the corner of your eye, opens the fridge and closes, getting himself a cold glass of water and downing the liquid in one go.

placing the glass away, he retraces the path he took, or so you think until his footsteps grow louder, closer and coming to a halt right by your side. Without a word uttered, he plops down next to you.

"Stop being a selfish hag and share that blanket."

Harsh words but no poison to his tone, when you finally raise one arm holding the edge of the blanket, he gets under your wing right away, settling in.

You should not be awake at this hour when you have a long day ahead in a measly two hours. Not when you have been neglecting sleep and proper meals for the past days, probably a side effect of not studying ahead, as always the case with you– and now the stress catching up to you, sinking its claws with dread.

By the time the sun is up, you have calmed down somewhat and fell back into sleep, that much he can tell from your breathing and the faint up and downs of your chest.

It is a technical detail maybe that your positions have shifted over the dawn, your head falling to his chest and Kuni holding you to himself with an arm wrapped around.

He supposes the distate and discomfort for storms is another thing the two of you have in common, another thing to get through and handle, together.

#genshin impact #kunikuzushi #scaramouche #modern au #genshin x reader #genshin x you #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x you #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #scara x reader #scara x you #scara drabble

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xcaptain-winterx · 1 year

Note

Oooh please i’d love a one shot or a drabble of his inner monologue!

Butterflies

dad!Lloyd Hansen x reader

summary: Lloyd starts to realize that the feeling he is feeling towards Sunshine isn’t hatred.

warnings: fluff, realization of feelings, denial, slight angst

a/n: English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc.. This is when they both were in Harvard, so way before having LJ

Main Masterlist Daddy Sociopath Masterlist

You curse as the canvas almost slips from your fingers. The canvas isn’t that heavy and big, but you also have to carry your bag and the books that didn’t fit in there anymore.

Most of the Students are already done for today or are learning in the library, so the hallway isn’t that crowded. You still have to hurry though because it’s going to rain and getting your canvas wet isn’t something that you would want. Normally you are allowed to leave your projects in a room, but apparently not this time.

You walk out the door and already see how dark clouds start to cover the blue sky. You start to walk the shortest way to your dorm. It’s difficult though, to hurry while carrying your canvas and the rest.

The sky is now completely covered by dark clouds. It’s going to start raining any second now. You are so fucked.

“He cut his ear off”, a voice from behind suddenly says, making you jump and letting the canvas slip out of your fingers. Just before the canvas hits the floor, a hand catches it. “Did I scare you?” the voice says mockingly.

You turn around and see the boy from the party. Instead of a brown coat and scarf, he’s wearing a tight polo shirt and dark jeans. You can see some sweat on his forehead. He probably came from football practice and judging by the smirk and somehow happy mood, practice was good.

“Yes, you scared me”

“Good”, he says with a cocky smirk.

A smile spreads on your face as you realize what he first said. “You did some research on Van Gogh”

His smirk disappears. “Well, I uhm just wanted to know what shit you were talking about”. You don’t have to know that Lloyd actually went to the library at 3am because he wanted to know who was that man that you were so fascinated by. It took him quite a while because he forgot the name of the artist. Apparently Vincent ven Google doesn’t exist.

You nod smirking “mhm”.

He groans, “don’t get cocky. That’s my job, Sunshine”.

The smirk on your face disappears, instead the smile comes back. “Thank you for catching my Canvas”, you say. Lloyd pulls it away as you reach for it. “Uhm, can I have it back?”.

“No”

“What?” you say confused, reaching for it again only for him to hold it above his head, making you unable to reach it.

“Why should I give it back?” he says.

“It’s my Canvas”

“Is it?”

You take a deep breath. “Yes, it is”.

Lloyd looks unimpressed. “Hmm. I don’t see you holding it” he leans closer. “So it’s mine”.

“Give me it” you jump up trying to grab it, the Books in your other Hand Male it Hard though.

“I don’t think so”

“Please”, you say, giving him a slight glare. Lloyd just laughs at your glare. It’s not scary, it’s cute-No, dumb.

He leans closer. “Beg”.

The expression on your face turns to disgust. “I’m not going to beg”.

“Then I keep it”, he says, turning like he’s about to leave. Lloyd waits for you to tell him to stop and start begging. Like always, you surprise him with your actions.

“You little piece of shit”

He didn’t expect that.

Lloyd turns around and looks at you with an angry look. “What did you just say?”.

“I said you Little piece of shit. Do you want me to spell it out for you?”

Lloyd takes two big steps towards you. Now face to face with you. Well, face to chest with you. You can feel his breath hitting your face. He leans over you, towering over you and glaring down at you. “Oh, sunshine”, he says in a threatening tone.

Lloyd looks you up and down, deciding what he’s going to say next. Somehow, he doesn’t want to scare you. But why? Why can’t he be mean? It’s so easy to be mean. He shouldn’t have to worry about someone’s feelings. For god’s sake, he’s Lloyd Hansen! Not some weak butt waxing twink!

He snaps back when he hears you talk first.

“Yes, moonlight?”, you ask teasingly.

He takes a small step back and looks at you confused, “What did you just call me?”. Lloyd can’t believe that you just called him that.

“Moonlight”, you say.

“Don’t call me that!” Lloyd demands. Moonlight? That’s so…cute. Disgusting!

“Why not? You also don’t call me by my name”

Lloyd lets out a cold laugh. “Well, I can’t even remember your stupid name. Also, I wouldn’t give a shit about your name. I call you whatever I want…Sunshine. Now you better call me by my name, or” he licks his lips “you can always call me daddy, Sunshine”, he says, giving you a cocky smile.

Of course he knows your name. He remembers how he kept saying your name while he-NO.

A small chuckle leaves your mouth as he says that. “I never complained about the nickname. I like you calling me Sunshine”, you say, “by the way, I don’t even know your name”.

Lloyd stares at you, not believing what you just said. “What do you mean?”, he asks.

“You never told me your name”

Lloyd thinks hard. Did he really lay with you on a porch the whole evening completely high and he didn’t even tell you his name? He quickly stops feeling bad for not telling you. Everybody should know him. He’s like the most famous person at Harvard and a football player. So he scuffs and says, “Ha, everyone knows me. Either you are lying or really dumber than I originally thought”

“I’m sorry that I don’t know every preppy frat boy. While you try to get every girl to fuck you and spent most days partying. I learn, so don’t tell me im dumb.”

Lloyd moves closer again with a scowl on his face “I don’t try to get every girl to fuck me, Sunshine. Every girl tries to get me to fuck them” he smirks “that’s different”.

You roll your eyes at him. “Sorry I didn’t indented to strike your ego”.

“You didn’t. I don’t listen to what a little girl is saying”

The air turns colder, and the clouds turned even darker. It’s going to rain any minute now. Lloyd sees how you look at the sky before he says, “let’s walk somewhere where we won’t look like a fucking wet dog in a second”. He surprises himself with saying that. Ok yes, normally he would’ve walked somewhere, so he doesn’t get wet either way, but not tell the other person to come with him. The devil on his shoulder starts to get annoyed with his behavior.

You nod and you both walk towards somewhere under roofed. The first raindrops begin to fall down. Both of you start walking faster towards the school library. Lloyd doesn’t seem to like the idea of going inside a stupid library, but otherwise it’s the nearest under roofed place and not many people will be there. No one will see him there with you.

As you both walk in, you get greeted with a warm wave and the smell of dark wood and paper. It’s quiet and so far you can tell no one else is here.

Lloyd makes and grimace as he takes in the place. To him it really looks like a circus for nerds. Hundreds of books, many different kinds and all of them are fucking boring. Why would people willingly spend time here. He turns towards you as you rip the canvas out of his hands.

“Thank you for carrying my canvas”, you say, giving him a warm smile, and Lloyd feels his heart melt. You look so cute with your slightly entangled hair du to the wind, small raindrops on your forehead, your shining eyes and thin mint colored cardigan.

“Your welcome, Sunshine”

Both of you walk to a small corner of the library. Lloyd wants to because he doesn’t want to be seen and you just follow him. He’s leaning against the bookshelves while you are sitting at a study table. The library is filled with the sound of the rain hitting the roof.

Lloyd is the first one to say something, “You are weird”.

Your eyes go wide, “huh?”.

“You are fucking weird”

“Why?”

“Because-“ Lloyd thinks for a second “you paint”

“And that’s why im weird?” you say, confused.

Why did he have to start this conversation? Lloyd thinks to himself. He could’ve just said something like ‘I love my dick’ or ‘I destroyed everyone is baseball’, but no, he had to say that. Great job.

You tilt your head when you hear nothing, and Lloyd lets out a snarl. His face is ridiculous. He's watching you like a predator watches its prey. He's standing there, utterly motionless, his body tensed as if ready to strike.

He throws up his hands, “can’t you just shut up for ones?”, his tone shows annoyance.

Your eyebrows furry and you softly hold up your hands a bit “alright, calm down”.

His piercing eyes stare into yours with a cold, calculating intensity and you knew that you had to handle this carefully. You don’t understand how someone can have such sensitive impulse problems. He’s like a ticking bomb, ready to explode any second.

The air is thick and neither of you says anything. Both of you are sitting in silence for quiet awhile. The silence gets broken when you take out some papers from your bag, and Lloyd’s cold gaze slowly falls into confusion and curiosity.

You grab a paper and start folding it. Each fold sits perfectly. He watches you as you continue to fold the paper. Lloyd would never say it, but he really, really wants to know what you are doing. After a minute, you are done. In your hand, a little paper bunny.

“Origami, really?” Lloyd asks, raising a brow.

You nod your head as you get out another paper “yes”. It’s silent again, the only sound coming from you folding the paper.

After your fifth origami, Lloyd moves from his place again the bookshelves and walks towards the table you are sitting on and takes a place next to you. He doesn’t say anything as he takes a piece of paper and starts folding it.

Your eyes move away from your own paper towards his face and then his own paper. His origami is so far fantastic. A smile slowly forms on your face. “You can do origami”, you state.

He lets out a scoff. “Oh, really”, he says sarcastically, “nice to see that your eyes are working”.

“That was a compliment, Moonlight. You origami is really good”

A blush creeps up on his face as you said that. You just gave him a compliment, a really nice one too. Obviously, he gets compliments a lot for his baseball skills, his looks, his dick, his skills in sinful acts. But this is somehow different. He doesn’t know why though. Also, you said this stupid lovely nickname again. Lloyd hates it obviously………a lot…… .

He quickly coughs and tries to hide his red face somehow. “Uhm, I uh ok…I know im good”.

You shoot him another smile before focusing back on your origami, which makes you unable to notice how Lloyd turned his attention now towards you. He doesn’t watch your hands folding the paper though, no; he stares at your face. Like the night you met when you sketched him, you frown again when you get into details. Lloyd is almost 100% sure that you don’t even know that you frown when you concentrate on the details. He quickly looks back again when you lift your head a bit.

Both of you are folding origami in silence.

“Its Lloyd” Lloyd breaks the silence.

“Huh?” you ask, turning your head.

“My name”, he says, “my name is Lloyd Hansen”. His eyes move to yours.

“Lloyd” you try out his name, with a smile “It fits”.

A chuckle leaves Lloyd’s mouth. “Well thank you”. He doesn’t even realize that he just said thank you or that he is showing some sort of kindness.

You tilt your head, “I prefer Moonlight though”, you say with a teasing look.

He gives you an almost playful glare “Oh, sunshine. Be honest, you are just too dumb to remember my name. Is Alzheimer already kicking in?”.

You return the playful glare and say, “No, maybe by you. You are overall already wearing grandpa clothes”, you point to his clothes.

“Excuse me”, he hold a hand to his chest, “in what world is a polo shirt grandpa clothes?”

“In a world where old people are playing golf, but actually just because they want to see young girls in short skirts. Rich old man who are looking for someone that gets their wrinkly not working old dicks up”.

He looks at you maybe because your beautiful lips just lead out such mature words or because you compared his dick to an old mans disgusting dick. Either way, he’s speechless.

“I’m just kidding”, you say and continue to fold. Surprisingly, Lloyd doesn’t say anything.

Time flies fast. Both of you are now about two hours in this library, folding origamis, filling the whole table. While you did a bunch of flowers origami’s, Lloyd did butterflies. A bunch of cute little butterflies.

In those two hours, neither of you said a word let alone opened their mouth.

Lloyd finishes another butterfly and moves to grab another paper but only comes in contact with the surface of the table. He looks and sees that you both ran out of papers. Lloyd would never admit it, but he’s actually pretty sad that he cant fold anymore origami’s. If no one including were around, he would probably grab a book and rip some pages out, but that would mean that he wants to fold some more origami’s and he was obviously just folding them before just because be was bored and not because he was actually enjoying it…duh.

You notice it too, “I guess that’s it” you turn to look at your guys origami work “that’s quite much”.

“What are you fucking smiling at, Sunshine” Lloyd says as a smile breaks out on your face. His eyes don’t show coldness.

“I like your butterflies” you point to his work “they are cute”.

He tries desperately to hide the blush that is about to take over his whole face. No one ever said something like at to him, ok, to something he did. A thank you would be the right thing to say.

“Better than your trash”

Great job.

“Moonlight”, you begin, making him let out a sigh, “don’t say that. I did a bunch of different origami’s. You just did the same one over and over again for two whole hours”.

“Ok ok, yours look pretty good too…but mine still look better”. How deep did he fall to actually say something like that? He already said thank you today and now also some form of sorry. The devil on Lloyd’s shoulder is furious, but for the first time, the angel on his shoulder is smiling. For the very first time.

“Thank you, Moonlight” you say, your face shows true thankfulness “here’s something for you for being that nice” you say and give him a piece of paper.

Lloyd chuckles and goes for folding it, but stops when he looks at the piece of paper. It’s not just a piece of paper, it’s the sketch. The sketch you did on the night you both lay on the. He suddenly feels like it’s that night again where it was just you and him alone, together. His face starts to glow and a soft smile appears on his face, and not because he’s looking at a hot sketch of himself, but because it’s you. It’s you who did it for him. It’s you who spend the night laying on the floor with him, who sacrificed her cardigan so he would even sit on the floor, who shared brownies with him, who was nice even though he was his typical asshole self.

Who he almost kissed.

“Turn it around”, you say softly.

Lloyd turns the paper and in the right corner he sees why you wanted him to do it around. In a soft handwriting it says:

To my Vincent ven Google

“I didn’t knew your name and uhm”, you stutter a bit “I just thought that would fit because uhm you know-”. You stop talking when Lloyd grape your hand and kisses it.

“Thank you, Sunshine”, he whispers and lets your hand immediately go after it.

Lloyd looks at you softly. The soft yellow light of the library shining at your face and making it look like porcelain, but also soft. Lloyd wants nothing more than to caress your cheek. To touch you. To feel you. Not in the sexual way, though. In a way he can’t describe.

He doesn’t know why he feels the way he feels around you. It’s like around him is always some darkness, keeping him locked in a cocoon, locked from the light. That’s until you came and manage to break a part of his cell. It’s like he finally sees the sunlight, and it’s so warm. It’s like nothing he ever felt before. The warmness is going through him like deadly radiation, but somehow he doesn’t feel like he’s going to die. He feels like he’s going to live, which is weird because he’s already alive. His body is alive, he can run, jump, fight and every other physical activity. Now it’s though, like his heart is alive. Like before it was just an empty thing in his chest with no true benefit, but now its beating, its moving fast and loud.

Not only his heart became alive and making him feel something he never felt before, but he’s also feeling some kind of warmness down there. Not his dick. He’s feeling warmness in his stomach, which sound even weirder than the stuff before that. It’s not just warmness. It’s like a warm sunshine is dancing in there, letting him feel a complete new kind of emotion. He doesn’t hate it though, no. He likes it. He likes these new feelings. He likes the warmness he’s feeling.

Lloyd moves closer to you, your shoulder touching. He can smell your soft flower perfume. Well, he doesn’t even know if it’s a perfume or if it’s really just how you smell. He likes it either way. You too can smell his cologne. It still smells fucking expensive.

Neither of you saying something or looking at the other. You both stare forward. The feeling in Lloyd’s chest and stomach is getting bigger and bigger, and not only by him.

You feel it too. This feeling. It’s a bit different from Lloyd’s though. It’s more like you’re lost in a desert, no clouds coating the skin, nothing except the ocean of sand. You’re drowning in this ocean alone, helpless. Until darkness encases the hot sunshine and pulls you out of the ocean. It’s cold and dark, but safe. Instead of being scary, it’s like a night light. Trillion little lights shining in the dark, each telling a story, a secret behind the darkness of their outer appearance. Then there’s the sun of the darkness, the sister of the warm sun. A cold sun. The light of the moon is peaceful and quiet instead of the loud shine of the sun.

For the first time, your heart is not overheating. It’s not beating like it’s on fire. It’s calm. Like a layer of light encased it. Not a warm light, a dark peaceful light. Like the moonshine is wrapping itself around the flame like a glass to extinguish the flame.

You feel like the moonshine is dancing inside your stomach. Like a million shooting stars are flying in the beautiful darkness.

Your hands move closer until they touch, both of your hearts beating faster and the dancing in your stomach grows. Lloyd pinkie moves onto your hand and wraps around yours, intertwining your pinkies. Your pinkie pulls his closer, making him blush and this time he doesn’t try to hide it.

He moves his other hand towards your face and softly grabs your cheek and turns your head towards his. Now it’s your turn to blush. Lloyd looks at your lips before he moves his eyes to look into your shining eyes. He swears that the sunshine is his stomach is now rocking the dance floor as your hand that is not intertwined with his pinkie moves to the space between his shoulder and neck. Lloyd feels your warm fingers come in contact with his cold skin. You now move your gaze to his lips too, and Lloyd sees that as the final consent to do his next move.

He slowly pulls your face closer and closer. He needs to kiss you.

The night you both met you told him that he should sometimes use a chapsticks for his ‘crusty’ lips and he declined and said that’s not for men. He secretly used them, and his lips never felt softer before. It’s not like he’s scared that you will say that his lips are crusty when he kisses you. Ok, he is, but the chances are slim thanks to the chapsticks.

You both start to lean and close your eyes, only a millimeter, till your lips finally touch.

Your lips meet.

At least that’s what Lloyd hoped for, but a loud noise broke what was supposed to be your guys first kiss in the last second.

A growl leaves Lloyd’s mouth. He was so close to kissing you. SO CLOSE. He stops his inner tantrum when he listens to the noise and jumps up from the table.

“LLOYD, where the fuck are you?” Denny screams, giving zero fuck about the students who try to study. “Do you see him?” he asks the rest of the football team.

You both were so concentrated on your origami’s that you didn’t even realize that it stopped raining, and Lloyd’s frat bros aka. Team members looked for him. He doesn’t know why really, because normally they leave him be. When he’s not training, partying or having a game, he is fucking.

Lloyd needs to get out NOW. They can’t see him here, not in a library, not in a library….with you. He turns to you for a second and sees you looking at him with a neutral expression. Lloyd immediately looks away and just as he is about to sneak around the corner to the door to get outside with none of his bros noticing him, he slightly turns his head not turning to look at you though, and says “goodbye, Sunshine”.

Then he flees.

Not a minute later Carmichael walks by and looks at you with his dark eyes, which show no emotions, before he continues his search.

#chris evans #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader angst #lloyd hansen x y/n #daddy sociopath au #daddy sociopath #dad!lloyd x reader #dad!lloyd #dad!lloyd hansen #chris evans character x reader #chris evans character

331 notes · View notes

beanzfandoms · 3 months

Text

Humble Til Death

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire! Reader

Synopsis: The war between vampires and humans has begun, and every duke and spawn a like look to the Vampire Ascendant to help in battle. As they discuss what needs to be transpired, a stranger outcasted by both sides joins the discussion with a humble approach, which catches Lord Ancunin's attention.

Warnings: Cursing, reader is depicted lowly by some characters, slight gore, sexism/classism

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No one would have thought that there would be a war between vampires and humans. Though it is not surprising that vampires have the advantage, the humans have found ways to infiltrate the mighty walls of those stronger than them and bringing their downfall. Upset by this uproar, Dukes and spawn alike have turned to their one and only savior: the Vampire Ascendant.

Though Lord Ancunin is not the fondest in giving out his power freely, he allowed a few proud leaders to have a meeting with him and persuade and strategize what needs to be done. Some thought to destroy mankind for good, others thought to scare the humans into submission. The conversation on how to put man back into their place was not an easy one to make, especially with a bunch of mad-hungry vampires.

The room was loud as the angry voices of men boom throughout the throne room, and Astarion himself sits in front of it all with a deep scowl on his face. A prisoner, a blacksmith who joined the revolution for the end of vampires, lays bloodied on the floor by his feet. The man was barely conscious, with gurgled groans wheezing out of him and his broken bones creaking as he trembles in fear. Astarion had the thought of just putting the prisoner out of his misery, not because he felt pity, but because all the noise was getting on his very last nerve.

"I say we beat the information out him, yeah? We don't know shit about the cattle's moves unless he tells us!" One of the more obnoxious Dukes yells out in rage.

"I want to kill them just as much as you, but if we dispose of the only source we have, it's a lose game!" Another retorts, slamming his fist on the table.

Each of them had their own respective styles, the way they carry themselves specific to their own lands. Astarion could care less about who lives and who dies at the end of the day, but he found it rather fascinating how each of them were different all the same. They were all surrounding a table off to the side of him, maps and scrolls covering the mahogany. Most of them sat silently, only agreeing or disagreeing when they saw fit. Others, however, stood boastfully from their chairs and demanded respect in their ideas. Astarion found it rather disrespectful for them to be so open with their whining in front of him of all people.

Just as the Vampire Ascendent had enough of his so-called guests, the double doors entering his hall opens, and a cloaked figure walks in with such grace, as if they were floating on air. They turn to his servants by the door and murmur a thank you, in which the retainers shamelessly smile with flustered blushes. Silence falls across the room as the stranger continues to the prisoner, kneeling before him without so much as a glance to anyone else.

"Pl-please... No more. Me-rcy..." The human chokes out, blood spewing past his lips as his glassy eyes stare at the form above him.

"Tell me where your camp is, and no more suffering with befall on you. I will put you to rest..." a gentle voice, a quiet song to Astarion's ears, comes from the ominous person. Nimble fingers kiss upon the human's cheek and a deep sigh escapes him.

"Will... they die?"

"I do not know, but if they do, I shall see to it that they do not suffer too."

The human weeps, hiccupping as the realization that he is going to die washes over him. The newcomer above does not rush him, and quietly sits and watches as the man expresses his emotions so freely. "Outside Riv-ington... That is wh-where my camp lies. Please... mercy. There are children... El-derly..."

"That is not up for me to decide, but I will give you what I promised... Rest now." The figure coos, before grabbing his head and snapping his neck.

The stranger slowly stands and the hood hiding them in shadows cascades off their head. Merlot eyes bore into Astarion's, but no bitterness nor sadness was present. They simply looked, and it almost felt like Astarion was floating away from the present. Though this person's gaze was colored like the dried blood forever stained on his hands, he felt a twisted sort of comfort.

That luxury did not last as long as he would've liked.

"You dare defile this place with your wretched deeds," One of the previous vampiric dukes who spoke before bellows. His leather-clad boots stomp across the marble floor before he stands a mere few inches from unknown person.

The person does not cower under him, as they simply look upon him too with their ethereal gaze. " I got the information that you wanted, did I not? Or are you just angry because I did it through unorthodox means? Quite pathetic, really."

"Excuse me?"

"Do you not remember how it feels to suffer? To be put in constant pain by those stronger than you?" The outsider's stare hardens, the timbre in their voice getting louder with each syllable. They slyly observe the man before them, head to toe, before a soft scoff exhales from them. "No, I suppose you don't. Inevitably, that will lead to your downfall."

"You will hold your tongue-"

"Bite me!" They exclaim with a sudden anger, "You do not own me, none of you own me! I can say and do whatever I please. The only reason why I'm here, well... to put it simply, if you die, who else will I get to make fun of?"

The newcomer smiles slightly as the duke stands there with a befuddled expression, as if their words caused his slick tongue to go still. His red eyes dare to capture Astarion's, and he scoffs, "How do you feel about this sudden outburst, Lord Ancunin? Surely you find their mere presence despicable."

"Who are you to dare claim what I think and feel?" Astarion laughs, laying his head into his right palm as he pierces through the duke with odious leering.

"F-forgive me, Vampire Ascendant!" The man shutters slightly, sputtering on his words, "I only mean to respect your court! This lascivious thing disrupted what could possibly be the means to all of our livelihood!"

"I will say..." Astarion starts as he rises from his cushioned seat. He ostentatiously walks towards the two vampires, a look only described as smugness capturing his youthful face. "Your methods are quite... interesting, indeed. Why show mercy to those who seek to kill us?"

"If you were to die, how would you want it to be?" Asks the stranger, who does not recoil like the duke beside them.

"I will not die," Astarion simply replies.

"But if you were to, wouldn't you like too humbly? Honorably?"

"I could care less about my meal's honor, but it is quite intriguing to find another similar to these noblemen to think otherwise. Tell me, where do you earl from?"

"I am (Y/n), and I earl from nowhere. I am a spawn who was left behind but survived. I do not garnish one such as yourself, if that is what you mean..."

Astarion ridicules what (Y/n) says with a sneer but does not punish them for their lack of courtesy. Instead, he glares towards the man, who remained silent with dread. The duke immediately straightens himself, rigid under the Ascendant's scrutiny. "Let us make haste to Rivington then. There we will ensnare the humans and do what must be done."

The Nobles nod in approval as they make their way out of the courtroom, ravenous hunger radiating off their bodies in horrid delight. They will go and gather their most presentable spawn and wait for word that their feast is nigh. (Y/n) watches with no akin desperation to stop what may transpire, but a small voice inside aches for the oncoming carnage that will befall Baldur's Gate.

"You belong to no one, yes?" Astarion's voice catches them off guard from their thoughts, and they realize the must have gone into a trance. The leaders who gathered before were no longer in the room, and a few stray candles burning dimly in the desolate place was the only indication that anything occurred at all. The day's first light began to peek through the stained windows as they were drawn by Astarion's servants. "No where to run off to?"

(Y/n)'s orbs cast over to the vampire lord, a sudden tiredness overtaking them. He was mere inches away, a smirk crossing his lips as they made eye contact. "How long has it been?" They ask.

Their voice was barely above a whisper, and they realized this sudden meekness made Astarion delightfully happy.

He hums pleasantly, his fingers brushing his cheek in thought. "Only a few hours, I'd say. You were quite lost there, weren't you little spawn?"

"Spare me your belittlement," (Y/n) sighs as they turn away, studying the thick black tapestry covering the sun's kiss to the earth. How they longed to feel the sun again, but the chill that caressed their bones was a callous reminder they could not.

Astarion casts a look over to where (Y/n) stared eagerly so and chuckles. "No belittlement here, my dear. Just casual conversation. The sun will accompany the sky for some time. I'm afraid that if you leave, you will be but ashes before you step out that front door."

"Your point is?"

"Snippy, snippy. Here I was offering you a bed in my humble abode too," The Lord says with a mock pout, "If what you said earlier were true, the I suggest you take up my generosity."

"Why?"

"Don't test my patience, treat. It would not go greatly for you," Astarion proclaims with the shake of his finger.

"I meant why do you care if I be burnt to ashes or not? If I accept your offer or not?"

"Oh, I don't. Frankly, I'm rather bored these days, and you seem like exquisite company. See to that which you see fit. If you decide to stay, then I will see to it that a servant provides you with the most lavish things. If you don't, well, I suppose I won't be seeing you in Rivington. I shall wait your decision," He speaks as he strides to the double doors, pushing them open with confidence. "I'm sure you won't disappoint me."

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#astarion x reader #ascended astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion ancunin #genderneutral reader #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #the pale elf #baldur's gate 3

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lewkwoodnco · 7 months

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Hey hello, can I get a fanfic of the reader (either female or gender neutral,) of Lockwood having a nightmare and sort of freaking out, and the reader is passing his door to get something from the kitchen, so she wakes him up and comforts him.

I love fanfiction where you take care of them but they are so hard to find. Base it on 'Safe and Sound's, please.

Take your time and feel free to ignore, I hope you a happy time

Safe and Sound - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: 'I hope you a happy time' is genuinely the cutest thing I've read in a while!!! hope you enjoy the fic!!!!! <3 Side note: might I recommend this author on ao3? I randomly stumbled across her fics a few days ago and I think she does hurt/comfort amazingly!!! wc: 2k

She woke with her throat feeling like sandpaper and groaned miserably. She was so delightfully cosy in her bed that the only thing that could relax her even more was a refreshing glass of water. A refreshing glass of water that was all the way in the kitchen. After groaning about it for a while, she slipped on her dressing grown and padded downstairs.

She stumbled down the corridor half-asleep until something caught her attention. She paused, blinking blearily, straining her ears. She heard it again. A faint rustling, a gentle thump, and more rustling, coming from Lockwood's room.

She knocked. No response. She knocked more insistently. Still no response. She placed her hand on the doorknob and hesitated. She had not seen much of his room, given how little time he spent there. Entering his room would be crossing over an imaginary threshold in their relationship. Another thump came, louder this time, and she screwed her eyes shut, twisting the doorknob.

Lockwood was tossing in his sleep, his back muscles spasming in the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway. His head occasionally bumped into his headboard, and he seemed locked in an intense internal battle. She looked around, carelessly and noisily switching his bedside lamp on, shaking him awake. She felt as though she would never forget the haunted look in those brown eyes as he was jerked awake.

"Hey, hey, it's me. Deep breaths."

He choked, shielding his eyes from the light. Some strange urge to protect this gaunt, nervous boy swelled up inside of her, and her fingers reached out to brush back the lank hair plastered to his forehead. His face was clammy and throbbing under her fingertips, but her touch seemed to soothe the emotional turbulence building up and crashing down inside of him.

It made her stomach turn to see Lockwood shaken to his very core. Even as his breaths began to even out, his fingers would twitch as he nervously smoothed the sheets while his eyes maintained a dull yet ever-present panic. Lockwood, who was forever self-assured and charismatic, reduced to a trembling, anxious mess. In the quiet of the night, surrounded by long, grotesque metaphorical and literal shadows that hovered at the corner of her eye...it was easy to feel scared.

A similar kind of twisting and writhing had possessed him earlier that night. They were at an old house, tackling two suspected Type Twos. She had noticed the funny look that had crossed Lockwood's face as soon as they stepped in, and she could tell why: the house was an almost exact replica of 35 Portland Row (minus the newspaper clippings gushing over Lockwood littering the walls).

The case proceeded like any other, with Lucy, George and Lockwood all in different rooms while she went around checking in on them. As the clock ticked its way to midnight, Lockwood had grown steadily increasingly pale.

"You all right, Lockwood?" The last time she had seen him, he had been restlessly pacing the room, but she had just put that down to a surplus of nervous energy. Now, he still had that uneasy air about him, but seemed particularly fascinated, or haunted, by the stack of boxes in the far corner of the room. There was an unhealthy pallour on his face as he spun around as if struck from behind at her voice, taking a few moments to scrounge up a coherent response.

"I'm fine." The stress on his face briefly abated, and his usual charming smile flickered, but she was not wholly convinced. Still, Lockwood seemed sufficiently adamant that nothing was wrong, and she was too paranoid to leave George and Lucy alone for too long. So it was against her better judgement that she warily leaned back, weight shifting on her feet as she turned to leave.

"Wait!" The fear that had been knitted into every crease of his face re-emerged, breaking through his cool facade. She turned back and closed the door in a heartbeat, resolutely deciding to stay with him. "Don't leave me here...alone. Please."

And so she had sat next to Lockwood, cross-legged, both of them leaning against a wall. She didn't feel pressured to make conversation because he was clearly dealing with some sort of suppressed emotions or memories that this room pulled out in him. Some muscle would tense, or his breath would suddenly draw up short, and he would be suspended in that tension for a few moments, until the tension eased and the cycle repeated itself. It was an exhausting sight to see, even without the threat of the Type Two looming over their heads.

Suddenly, they had heard a high-pitched whizzing and then the sound of a small explosion. She reached the window first, terror settling in her heart as she watched George dodge the Type Two by the skin of his teeth all over the salt bomb as he hazardously tossed salt bombs at it. She heard Lucy yell from somewhere and then there was a bigger explosion, and she felt rather than saw the flames leaping into the night sky. Lockwood was still struggling to peer out the low, tiny window with that same nervous energy coursing through his veins. She pulled him away by his coat.

"No- don't. It's not worth it." She had to say something, do something, give him something to obsess over instead of the very real fear that was beginning to take hold of her. "We need to find the Source, they can manage the visitor. Whatever you do, don't look outside." He looked like he wanted to argue but she shushed him before he could. "I mean it, don't. Just listen to me for once, please?" Lockwood certainly didn't look happy about it, but George had just let off yet another salt bomb in the span of a minute. They didn't have much time.

The anxiety had returned, if it ever truly left, if the way he was fumbling with the drawers was any indication. Her heart panged distantly. "Lockwood." He jerked his head in some sort of flimsy acknowledgement. "You'll be alright." He didn't look like he believed her, but it was enough for him to gather himself.

Now, that same tension seemed to resurface, pulling him under. As his disorientation (and claims of being fine when he was so obviously not) subsided, his panic remained. Yet, she watched the telltale signs form of him putting on a front of strength or normalcy: the way his spine stiffened, the forced blankness of his features, the locking of his limbs. It was so irritatingly familiar that she hated herself for ever falling for it before.

"You didn't look quite right, today. At the house."

"Oh, yes. It looked a bit like -?"

"Yeah, I noticed."

"The room we were in. It...it looked like Jessica's." He inhaled and his eyes fluttered shut, as if the next words were being ripped from his mouth. "And I was having terrible, awful thoughts, that that was all that would be left of this...of us...some day."

In the dim light of his ancient lamp, Lockwood never looked like a misshapen, out-of-place limb of the house more than he did right now. Forever tied to the place he yearned to escape yet couldn't bear leave, it was as though the walls had consumed him and he was now part of the silent shadows. They sat quietly for a while, both of their minds racing each other, struggling to keep up, let alone get ahead. He shifted, and he looked up. She saw him trying to force something out, but most of his words were swallowed up by his panicked gasps and delirium.

"If...if you-" he wheezed brokenly, and she felt her heart stop. "I mean, you don't have to, but if you, um -"

"Spit it out."

"I wouldn't mind if you...stayed."

It took her a second to wade through her confusion. When she thought about it, she realised how normal it would have been for her to briefly console Lockwood before returning to bed herself. He probably expected it, and rightfully so. But sitting next to him, his body shivering from some invisible fever...leaving was the last thing she wanted. She hated that that wasn't something immediately obvious, and the need to let him know in some way, any way, rubbed something raw into her liver. She slipped her tentative hand into his limp one, registering the roughness of his palm for a split second, before her fingers curled and rested on the back of his hand, wrapping themselves around his hand the way she wished she could cocoon him.

"In my head...you..." he scratched at his pillow with an expression that left a hollow ache inside of her. "You were gone. I drove you away. I tried, I tried..." His voice reeked of some desperation that made her feel physically ill. "I tried to get you to stay but, for some reason, it just...wasn't that simple."

"Oh, please. It's so like you to think you're the one thing that could get me to leave. You think you can get rid of me that easy? You're stuck with me." But her attempt at lightening the situation was too weak against the oppressive silence in the room. She swallowed the lump growing in her throat, willing her spirits to stay buoyant enough for the both of them. "I'll never let you go."

"Promise?"

His eyes were uncharacteristically dull, heavy with tears unshed, and she didn't dare breathe too hard lest they fall and the hole inside him gaped and became devastatingly real. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As someone who was always so smooth, so confident, larger than life, it was easy to forget how young he truly was, and how alone he had been for so long. Suddenly, her hand in his was no longer enough; it could never be enough for her to express how much he meant to her. How much she needed him, breathing, thrumming and living next to her.

She slipped an arm around his waist and cautiously placed her head in the crook of his neck, but then he shifted and wrapped his arms around her, artificially casual, while he gripped her shoulders desperately. His cotton shirt smelled of starch but the curls at the nape of his neck, tickling her nose, smelt distinctly of him. It was now os much more intimate, so much easier to share and ease emotional burdens they were both weary from carrying. That weird detachment she had been wrestling with over seeing her employer being so fragile and come undone finally dissolved, and all that she was holding in her arms was Lockwood; Lockwood with his sharp edges and soft spots and gloriously sensitive heart.

"I used to have horrible insomnia when I was younger."

"Mhm?"

"Yeah. My parents tried everything, but it was never an issue of me being tired. Oh, my eyes could be gritty with sleep and I would still not go to bed. I couldn't. It was the night that was just so...awful."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's fine, I grew out of it. My mum- " She stopped short, suddenly painfully aware of how little she knew about her mother now. "My mum...she used to tell me that all the hours of misery of the nighttime were washed away by the first rays of the sunrise. It made the night feel less...repulsive. Just a promise of a better time. Of sunlight."

She lifted her hand from Lockwood's clavicle, tracing a scar that dipped to his chest, feeling his heart vibrate against her.

"We've been through so many long, difficult nights. We have even more to live through. But..." She placed her hand where his neck met his shoulder, and he leaned his cheek against the top of her head. "We'll get through it all. Morning's waiting for us just at the edge of our fears."

#fanfiction #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #fanfic #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood x y/n #taylor swift #safe and sound #requested

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