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genshinluvr · 10 months

Text

Crave 7

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Scaramouche x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You and Scaramouche go to Inazuma City together! Even though Scaramouche is (reluctantly) accompanying you to the City of Eternity, you can't help but feel like you're forcing him to go with you. The next thing you know, you and Scaramouche booked a motel room overnight because of a sudden weather change.

Note: It's been a while since I've posted something for Crave, so here is part seven of Crave! The smut is shorter than I planned for it to be, but I will make it up to you Scaramouche simps, hopefully soon. As previously stated in the previous Crave "series," I tried to keep the smut as gender-neutral as possible, but this smut does lean more toward AFAB!reader/female-bodied reader. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut as per usual, fingering, Scaramouche almost cummed on the spot lol, hair pulling, biting, cervix fucking chest/breast groping, reverse cowgirl, full nelson, creampie

Word Count: 8k

Crave "Chapters": [1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6], [7]

The cool air of the Inazuman weather blows through your hair as you walk in the streets of Inazuma City, breathing in the sweet and savory foods. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. It feels nice to go outside every once in a while. Around you are bustling crowds murmuring, children laughing and chasing each other around, and street vendors shouting and giving customers their food.

The person beside you lets out a scoff, pushing past you. “Don’t just stand there and look around with your mouth open like a fish out of water,” Scaramouche scoffs, nudging you with his elbow. “Let’s start moving. The longer you stand there, the more you’ll be hungry and complain.” Scaramouche gestures for you to follow him.

You blink at Scaramouche and pucker your lips while watching him walk away from you. “Me? Complain? You’re the one that’s been complaining since we’ve arrived, not me.” You let out an exasperated sigh before following the shorter male. Scaramouche stops at the nearest food stall, getting in line behind a tall woman with long purple hair. You stand beside Scaramouche and cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot on the floor.

Scaramouche looks at you from the corner of his eyes. “Why are you tapping your foot? Are you nervous?” Scaramouche asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You purse your lips, shaking your head.

“Then stop it. It’s starting to get annoying,” Scaramouche rolls his eyes.

You stop the tapping and frown at Scaramouche, turning away from the indigo-haired man with a huff. Prior to arriving in Inazuma, you had planned on visiting Inazuma alone. But of course, your beloved boyfriends did not allow that and had one of the men tag along on your adventure outside of the abode. However, that person, Scaramouche, did not want to go to Inazuma due to personal reasons.

“If I have to go somewhere with you, I would rather go anywhere that isn’t in Inazuma,” Scaramouche deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest while glaring down at you.

You blink at him, looking at the other men. Scaramouche didn’t have to join you on your outing if he didn’t want to. It’s not like you’re holding him at gunpoint, demanding for him to tag along. Childe rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he approaches you and Scaramouche.

Childe wraps his arms around your shoulders, gazing at the shorter male with a smirk. “And what do you have against Inazuma?”

Scaramouche scowls at Childe. “None of your business, Tartaglia. If I don’t want to step foot into Inazuma, then I don’t want to,” Scaramouche hisses.

Childe holds his hands up in front of him, chuckling. You shake your head, smiling at the fuming indigo-haired man before you and Childe. Again, it’s not like you’re forcing Scaramouche to accompany you to the City of Eternity. You know his distaste for the Electro Archon, whose also your close friend aside from Lumine, and you didn’t want Scaramouche to feel the need to keep you company.

“Scara, it’s not like I’m forcing you to come with me! You don’t have to go to Inazuma with me if you don’t want to! Childe can come with me instead,” You said, gesturing to the ginger beside you.

Scaramouche’s eyes dart over to Childe’s direction. Childe smirks and drapes his arms over your shoulders, pulling you to his side and kissing your forehead. Scaramouche scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll accompany you to the City of Eternity. Just as long as we don’t step foot anywhere close to the Tenshukaku,” Scaramouche grumbles.

Before you can respond to Scaramouche, the man walks away with another annoyed huff of breath. You can’t help but feel bad. While Scaramouche begrudgingly agrees to accompany you to Inazuma, you can’t help but feel like you’re forcing him to. Pantalone and Dottore come up from behind you and pat your head while the other snickers.

“Don’t take it to the heart, [Y/N]. The Balladeer isn’t upset with you. It’s his resentment for his creator that’s making him cranky,” Dottore snickers, crossing his arms over his chest.

You press your lips into a thin line, playing with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t know, Dottore. I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault,” you grumble.

Pantalone ruffles your hair and pulls you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. You sigh, resting your head against Pantalone’s chest and listening to his heartbeat against his chest. You sure hope Scaramouche’s sour attitude won’t affect the outing in Inazuma tomorrow. Still, knowing Scaramouche, he’s going to be sour the entire time until the both of you return to the abode.

“What do you want to eat?” You ask, looking up at the menu with a sulking Scaramouche beside you.

Scaramouche lets out a long exhale through his nose. “It doesn’t matter to me. You pick,” Scaramouche replies, looking at his surroundings.

You nod and begin ordering for the both of you. After ordering your food, you and Scaramouche stand to the side, waiting for the cook to call out the number of your order. The minute you and Scaramouche arrived at Inazuma, Scaramouche had this permanent scowl on his face. You try not to let it ruin your mood, but the man is making it hard for you not to feel upset. You rest your head on the counter, waiting for the food to be ready.

Footsteps approach where you and Scaramouche are standing. You assume it’s another customer until you hear a familiar voice. “Oh? [Y/N], and Kunikuzushi? What are you two doing here in Inazuma?”

You look up to see Ei standing before you and Scaramouche, with Yae Miko standing beside her. “Oh, no. This is not good.” You clear your throat and smile at the purple-haired Electro Archon and the pink-haired kitsune, who giggles beside Ei and waves at you and Scaramouche. Scaramouche’s face pinches with disgust before looking away from the two women.

“Your visitation was unexpected but not unpleasant. We hope you two have been doing well,” Yae Miko looks at Scaramouche, giving him a closed-eye smile, “especially you, Kunikuzushi.”

You can feel the crackling tension between the three of them. You scratch the back of your head and gulp. You smile at Ei and Yae Miko, only for it to turn out to be a grimace. Scaramouche huffs and turns to watch the vendor cook his and your food.

You laugh nervously. “We’ve been doing well! I wanted to stop by Inazuma to try some food and maybe do a little shopping while we’re at it. Scaramouche is accompanying me,” You reply, looking at Scaramouche from the corner of your eyes. “How have you two been? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you two!”

Ei smiles, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I have been busy. As the Electro Archon, there are many duties I need to tend to. And because I have been busy for a while, Miko stopped by the Tenshukaku and dragged me out into the city,” Ei replies, looking over at the snickering kitsune.

Scaramouche continues to ignore the two women standing before you and him. He rests his arm on the counter, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. While you, Ei, and Yae Miko are conversing, he starts tapping his foot on the ground.

“Can they be any slower? I just want my food and get out of here as soon as possible,” Scaramouche grumbles under his breath.

Yae Miko giggles. “If you and Kunikuzushi want to have a full experience in your exploration of Inazuma, I recommend stopping by a kimono shop. It’d be fun to dress like a local, no?” Yae Miko asks.

Scaramouche can feel Yae Miko’s gaze burn holes into the back of his head. Scaramouche continues to ignore the two women and taps his fingers on the wooden counter impatiently. You tap your chin, taking in Yae Miko’s words. It does sound fun, but would Scaramouche be interested in joining you in wearing kimonos and exploring the beautiful region?

You smile at Yae Miko and Ei, nodding. “That sounds fun! Thank you for the idea. I think we might try it out,” you say.

The two women nod before bidding you and Scaramouche goodbye and walking off. You turn around, and the food vendor places your and Scaramouche’s food down on the counter. You and Scaramouche ate in silence. The two of you have yet to look at one another after Yae Miko and Ei walked away. The tension between you and Scaramouche remains. You wipe your lips with the napkin and turn to face the Inazuman man.

“What do you think about wearing kimonos as we explore Inazuma? If I recall correctly, Ayaka recommended a kimono shop called Ogura Textiles & Kimonos,” you say.

Scaramouche sighs, closing his eyes. “Alright, we can do that,” Scaramouche mutters.

Your eyes brighten, and a big smile stretches across your face. “Really?! You’re okay with wearing kimonos with me while we walk around Inazuma?!” You squeak.

“Mm. Yes, I’m okay with it,” Scaramouche answers. “Only because I want to see you happy.”

You throw your arms around Scaramouche’s shoulders, nearly knocking him back. You press a big kiss on his cheeks and nuzzle against him happily while Scaramouche wraps his arms around your waist and pats your back awkwardly.

After finishing your food, you and Scaramouche walk to Ogura Textiles & Kimonos. You're excited and kind of nervous about trying and wearing a kimono because you've never worn one before, and you don't know what to expect. Is it too late to invite Ayaka to Ogura Textiles & Kimonos with you and Scaramouche to give her insights on the kimonos you and your boyfriend are going to wear? As much as you would love to ask Ayaka to join you and Scaramouche at Ogura Textiles & Kimonos, you don't think Scaramouche would appreciate having people tag along after what happened between Ei and Yae Miko.

You and Scaramouche enter Ogura Textiles & Kimonos, looking around the small store. You skim through the variations of kimonos, but none has captured your attention. Then there's Scaramouche, who looks uninterested but is trying his best to find something to wear. As much as he dislikes being in Inazuma, being with you makes it less painful and boring. An indigo kimono captures his attention, and he grabs it, only to realize there's another one beside it that matches but has a different design. Scaramouche reaches for the two indigo kimonos before he looks at you, only to see you glare at the kimonos before you while muttering something under your breath.

"Did you find anything?" Scaramouche asks, approaching you.

You shake your head. "Not really. There are pretty kimonos, but some of them aren't really my style," you mutter.

Scaramouche rolls his eyes, scoffing with amusement. "Well, in that case, here. Try this on, " Scaramouche says, handing you the indigo kimono.

You take the kimono from Scaramouche's hands and stare at it before going to the changing room after approaching the sales clerk at Ogura Textiles & Kimonos. Scaramouche sighs and leans against the wall, waiting for you to try on the kimono. This is probably going to be the only time when you and Scaramouche get to spend some alone time together. As much as he despises being in Inazuma, being away from the others and being alone with you is tolerable. Maybe while he's waiting for you to come out in the kimono, he should change into his as well. Scaramouche sighs and pushes himself off the wall, walking to the other store clerk to show him the way to the changing room.

A few minutes after fighting with the kimono, you're able to change into the indigo kimono Scaramouche picked out for you. Well, with some assistance, of course. You walk out of the changing room and to the front of the store to see Scaramouche waiting for you in a similar kimono as yours but with different designs. You clear your throat, approaching the indigo-haired man. Scaramouche turns to look at you. His eyes widen slightly as the color pink slowly appears on his cheeks. “Scaramouche looks so cute when he’s blushing.” You smile at Scaramouche, holding your arm out and twirling for him.

"What do you think? I say you picked the perfect kimono, Scara. Plus, we match!" You grin at the indigo-haired man.

Scaramouche clears his throat. "You look beautiful," Scaramouche mutters shyly. "I picked out the perfect kimono, didn't I?" Scaramouche murmurs, the corners of his lips quirks up.

You grin and nod, twirling around for Scaramouche to see the full view of the kimono he chose for you. You look at Scaramouche, admiring the view of him wearing something other than his daily wear. Scaramouche looks devilishly handsome in his kimono. Instead of going back to the changing rooms to change out of the kimono and buying it after, Scaramouche pays for the kimonos upfront and tells you to grab your clothes from the changing room.

You point at the kimono. "We're leaving Ogura Textiles & Kimonos wearing the kimono?"

"Yes, that is what you wanted, is it not?" Scaramouche asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You nod and rush to the changing room in the back to grab your clothes from the changing room. When you return, Scaramouche's holding a bag in his hands. The bag contains the clothes he wore prior to changing into the kimono. You put your clothes into the bag, and after Scaramouche pays for the kimonos, both of you walk out of Ogura Textiles & Kimonos.

"Where do you want to go next?" You ask, looking around the beautiful city.

Scaramouche shrugs. "Doesn't matter to me. You lead the way, and I'll follow wherever you choose to go," replies Scaramouche.

You scan your surroundings and spot a dessert vendor from afar, calling out to passing citizens. Your eyes light up. You loop your arms around Scaramouche's left arm before dragging him to the dessert vendor. You know Scaramouche doesn't like Dango or any sweets that are sticky, so you're planning on ordering something that isn't Dango or is sticky.

"One Dango milk, please!" You say to the vendor. Scaramouche makes a sound of distaste. You chuckle and shake your head. "Relax, it's for me. I'll get you something else. I know how much you don't like Dango or anything sweet that's sticky," you say, nudging Scaramouche lightly.

You end up ordering Taiyaki for Scaramouche and another drink for him. You want to go shopping around Inazuma and see many things, but you don't want to overwhelm him with many activities. Maybe a little picnic under the Sakura tree trees will do. After receiving your order from the dessert vendor, you and Scaramouche begin walking around with your desserts and drinks in hand.

"Let's sit under the Sakura tree while we eat our desserts," you say, pointing over at the tree planted outside the city, away from the bustling crowd and prying eyes of two certain Electro users.

Scaramouche wordlessly agrees and links his arms with yours as the two of you walk to the lone Sakura tree. Beneath the tree are two large boulders, large enough for you and Scaramouche to perch on top while eating your desserts and drinking sweet drinks. You brush the dirt and rocks off the boulders before sitting down, patting the spot beside you.

Scaramouche sits beside you and looks around, taking a bite of his Taiyaki. "Is this all we're going to be doing today?" Scaramouche asks.

You shrug. "Maybe! I know it's not a lot, but I didn't want to drag you around Inazuma City and overwhelm you with the things that are happening," you reply, uncapping the bottle of Dango milk and taking a sip. "We can still walk around and look at things together."

Scaramouoche hums, taking another bite of his Taiyaki. There are other activities that can be done in Inazuma, and he doesn't mind doing them with you. The only issue is the possibility of running into the Electro Archon and her Kitsune companion. Scaramouche tenses up when you lean your head on his shoulders with your eyes closed. He relaxes and sighs, resting his head on top of yours. You suddenly jerk, startling Scaramouche. Scaramouche turns to check on you, only to see you holding a Sakura bloom in your hands. Your nose scrunches up as you stare at the pink petal with scrutiny.

You smile at Scaramouche sheepishly, rubbing your neck. "Hehe, sorry for scaring you like that. This Sakura bloom scared me when it landed on my face. I thought it was a bug," you whisper, tossing the Sakura bloom on the ground with a small huff.

Scaramouche snorts, shaking his head. "You get scared of the little things, don't you?" Scaramouche teases, pinching your cheek.

You huff again and look away, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Not necessarily! But since I have you here with me, I shouldn't be afraid, right?" You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

"What do you mean?" Scaramouche asks, tilting his head to the side.

You scoot close to Scaramouche, nodding. You loop your arms around his and snuggle up against Scaramouche with a content sigh. You rest your head on his shoulders, staring at the view of the ocean. Scaramouche blinks at you, waiting for you to reply to his question. Scaramouche nudges you. You look up at Scaramouche, who blinks at you, gesturing for you to explain.

You smile. "I have you here to protect me from harm," you murmur, leaning up to kiss Scaramouche’s cheeks.

Scaramouche scoffs and looks away, pretending not to like it. You stare at Scaramouche with a smile. The longer you look at him, the more you can see that his cheeks and ears are turning red. Cute. Dear Archons, Scaramouche is adorable. You chuckle and snuggle up against Scaramouche, taking a sip of your Dango milk.

About thirty minutes later, you and Scaramouche leave your spot from under the Sakura trees before making your way back to civilization. Both you and Scaramouche decided to trek to the nearest island where a festival was once held when Aether and Lumine visited with Ayaka.

You were surprised to see the island is packed with many visitors, not just from Inazuma but from other regions in Teyvat. Scaramouche makes a noise and squeezes your hands. You turn to Scaramouche, blocking his view of the festival-goers. You smile at Scaramouche and squeeze his hands.

"We don't have to stay here if you're not comfortable with being around this many people," you murmur.

Scaramouche sighs, looking around the island with a deep frown. While you and Scaramoche can do that, he doesn't want to hold you back from having fun and enjoying the festivities in Inazuma. Besides, it's not like Ei and Yae Miko are going to be at the festival as well, right? It'll be just you and him (and other festival goers) enjoying the food, snacks, and games at the Inazuman festival.

He shakes his head. "No, no. It's alright. We can walk around to see what catches our eyes," says Scaramouche, pulling you toward the large crowd of festival-goers and vendors.

You and Scaramouche go from vendor to vendor, checking out what they’re selling to the festival-goers, from desserts to street food to masks to prayer plaques. You and Scaramouche draw your wishes onto the pentagonal piece of wood. You have many wishes, and you weren’t sure what you wanted to focus on. “Is it possible to draw more than twenty-five people on the prayer plaques?”

“Are you done?” Scaramouche asks, startling you.

You look at Scaramouche like a startled crimson fox. Scaramouche cocks an eyebrow at you; a small smirk appears on his face. You clear your throat, rubbing the back of your neck while staring at the blank prayer plaque. You don’t have a specific wish in mind. However, you want it to involve everyone in your life. Since there’s not enough space for over twenty-five people, one person should be good enough.

You pucker your lips, shaking your head. "I haven't drawn anything yet! What did you draw?" You ask, poking him in the chest and trying to peek at his prayer plaque.

Scaramouche moves away from you, shielding the pentagonal piece of wood from your prying eyes. "I'm not showing you until you show me yours!" He huffs like a petulant child.

"Hmph! Fine! Just give me some time to think about it, and I'll show you mine," you say, walking to the nearest table to contemplate what you'll be drawing on the prayer plaque.

Despite dating Scaramouche, you only know a few details about him. From his background to the people in his life to how he became a Harbinger before being where he is now. The man is open to you, but Scaramouche has his shield up all the time. You assumed it was going to be bothersome in the beginning, but you don't blame him for putting a shield around his heart and putting up a cold exterior.

You doodle a small image of you and Scaramouche standing beside each other with little hearts surrounding the both of you. Your wish is for Scaramouche's happiness and sense of security and belonging in Teyvat. You turn to Scaramouche and wave him over. Scaramouche walks over and crosses his arms over his chest, continuing to shield his prayer plaque from your view. You assume Scaramouche wants you to show him yours first, given the look he's giving you while keeping his prayer plaque covered.

"Don't make fun of mine, okay?" You mumble.

Scaramouche snorts. "As long as it's not ridiculous like wanting a vision," Scaramouche comments.

You roll your eyes. "It's not! I don't think I'm worthy of a vision in general because I'm not from your universe," you grumble.

Scaramouche takes a step closer to you, gripping your chin, and tilts your head up. "You're always worthy," He murmurs, brushing your bottom lip with his thumb. "Now, show me what you put on your prayer plaque!" Scaramouche pinches your cheek and tugs on it hard.

You wailed and smacked his hands, glaring at him after he released your cheek. You rub your aching cheek with one hand while cursing under your breath. You let out a long sigh before flipping the prayer plaque over and showing him the doodle, looking away from the indigo-haired man. Scaramouche adjusts the plaque and gazes at the doodles on the prayer plaque. You hear a small huff, causing you to snap your head in his direction.

"Care to explain to me what your prayer is? It looks like you want me to be shamelessly in love with you," Scaramouche teases, poking your forehead.

You sigh. "My wish is for you to be happy and feel a sense of security and belonging in Teyvat," you murmur, looking away from Scaramouche.

Scaramouche stares at you while you're looking away from him, your face feeling hot. Scaramouche chuckles and pinches your cheek for the umpteenth time today, making you groan and grab his wrist, pouting at him. Scaramouche pulls you into his arms and squeezes you tightly, kissing the top of your head.

"You're cute, you know that, right?" Scaramouche murmurs into your hair, stroking your hair.

You peek at Scaramouche, wrapping your arm around his waist. "And what's on your prayer plaque?" You ask.

Scaramouche stares at you, nibbling on the inside of his cheek. You stare at him, waiting for the indigo-haired man to answer you. Alas, the both of you continue to stare at each other in silence while children laugh and other festival-goers murmur to each other. You narrow your eyes at Scaramouche, reaching up to poke his cheek, only for him to grab your hand halfway and lightly squeeze your hands.

"Tell me. I showed you mine and explained what my prayer was! Now, it's your turn to do it!" You said, puffing your cheeks out while glaring at him.

Scaramouche snorts, rolling his eyes and releasing your hand. "Alright, alright," Scaramouche sighs, showing you his prayer plaque.

It's a doodle of you and him— similar to yours, but his prayer plaque is slightly different. You tilt your head to the side, gazing at it questionably. You look at Scaramouche, silently waiting for him to explain what his doodle meant, but he doesn't say a thing. You look down at it again, scratching your cheek, trying to interpret what it could've meant, but only for your mind to blank.

"What's your prayer plaque about?" You whisper.

Scaramouche sighs, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours. "My prayer is for you to be by my side forever," Scaramouche whispers. "You're... precious to me, and I can't imagine my life without you."

You gulp, watching Scaramouche slowly open his eyes. Your eyes dart down to Scaramouche's soft pink lips before looking into his eyes. Scaramouche caresses your face, brushing your cheek with his thumb before leaning in to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in close to you. The kiss was rudely interrupted when a child bumps into your and Scaramouche's legs. You and Scaramouche pull away from the kiss to see the child scurry off with his siblings trailing after him. You close your eyes and rest your head on his chest while he wraps his arms around your waist. You and Scaramouche remain at the festival for another two hours before returning to Inazuma City, hand to hand, while chatting about your and his potential future.

On your way back to the city, the clear blue skies quickly change to dark gray skies, and rain starts pouring down on you and Scaramouche. The both of you run to the nearest motel in Inazuma City to stay until the rain calms down. While it wasn't your and Scaramouche's intention to stay at a motel in Inazuma, it's best to find shelter until the downpour ceases. You and Scaramouche can't return to the abode when it's pouring and thundering.

After checking into a motel for the night, the clerk at the front desk hands you and Scaramouche the key to your room. You and Scaramouche are drenched from head to toe. Thunder booming from a distance and rain crashing to the ground, and bouncing off buildings fill your ears.

"What a good way to end the day," Scaramouche says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

You giggle. "It's definitely something! Although I wasn't able to cross 'kissing in the rain' off my bucket list," you sigh, pouting at Scaramouche.

Scaramouche pauses at the door and turns to you, raising his eyebrows at you. You smile at Scaramouche innocently before walking around him to unlock your and his motel room. When the door clicks, you open the door and walk into the room with a sigh of relief. While your kimonos are drenched, you're relieved that your and Scaramouche's clothes aren't drenched from the rain. The door makes a faint click as Scaramouche closes the door.

The motel room is lit up by two tall lamps in the corner of the room. It's not a typical Inazuman-style motel. Instead, it was a mix of Inazuman and perhaps maybe even Liyuen. You walk further into the room and stop suddenly, causing Scaramouche to bump into you.

"Why'd you stop so suddenly?" Scaramouche asks.

You turn toward Scaramouche. "There's only one bed," You state.

He raises his eyebrows at you. "Okay and? I don't see the issue in sharing beds with each other. We are dating, right?" You nod. "Therefore, sharing beds shouldn't be an issue," Scaramouche says, pushing past you to put the bag of clothes down on the nightstand.

Scaramouche is right! There's nothing to worry about! You and Scaramouche are dating, and it's normal for couples to share beds in motels like this. The more you look around the room, the more you start to realize something strange about the small motel. While it's a mix of Liyuen and Inazuman, there was something a little bit off about this motel. You walk to the drawer, only to find a small gray and purple box.

You tilt your head to the side, eyebrows furrowing. "Huh? What's this?" You murmur.

You lift the box to your face, only to toss it back into the drawer and slam it shut after getting a clear look at it. Scaramouche looks at you, startled because you slammed the drawers shut. You clear your throat and turn to Scaramouche with a fake smile— Scaramouche motions to the drawers, gazing at you quizzically.

"Why did you slam the drawers shut? Did you see something?" He asks.

You gulp and smile at him sheepishly while shaking your head. "Oh, it was nothing! I didn't mean to slam the drawers shut," you lie, rubbing the back of your neck.

Scaramouche hums, getting up and walking toward you. You freeze and press your lower back against the cabinet, blocking the particular drawer. Scaramouche reaches behind you, grabbing a champagne cup and inspecting it. Where did that come from? You didn't even notice there were four wine cups behind you.

"Now, what are you hiding from me?" Scaramouche asks suddenly, placing the wine cup back on the stand and crossing his arms over his chest.

You sputter. "Nothing! I'm not hiding anything from you, Scaramouche!"

Scaramouche narrows his eyes, places both hands on your shoulders, and moves you out of the way. You groan and run your hands through your hair, mentally preparing for Scaramouche's reaction to the box in the drawer. Scaramouche looks at you, slowly opening the drawer without taking his eyes off your face, watching your expression very closely. He blindly reaches into the drawer and reaches around the semi-empty drawer before stopping when he feels a box.

Scaramouche diverts his attention from you and gazes at the box. Scaramouce reaches up and squints at the words printed on the box. Scaramouche snorts, closing the drawer with the box in his hands. He leans against the drawer, holds the box up for you to see it clearly, and chuckles.

"So this is why you tried to act like you saw nothing when you clearly see this," Scaramouche gestures to the box. "What, are you scared of a box of condoms?"

You bristle at the sight of Scaramouche's teasing smirk as he lightly tosses the box in the air and catches it with ease. How dare he teases you for getting flustered after seeing a box of condoms in the drawer! Is it possible that the previous motel visitor left their boxes of condoms at the motel? No, it couldn't be. Most people wouldn't forget something like this! Right? You gulp and tap your fingers on your thighs.

"I think this motel is a love motel," you squeak, looking anywhere but Scaramouche.

The indigo-haired man raises his eyebrows at your speculation. Scaramouche places the box of condoms on top of the drawer before walking over to you. You subconsciously step back, too embarrassed to look at the man before you. Scaramouche scoffs, grabs you by your biceps, and pulls you toward him. You squeeze your eyes shut as he grabs your chin and tilts your head up.

Scaramouche murmurs, "Look at me,"

You reluctantly open your eyes but nearly shrivel up in fear after seeing how close his face is to yours. You audibly gulp, locking eyes with Scaramouche as he smiles with amusement. Scaramouche feels joy and pride after seeing how flustered you become when he's so close to you. SCaramouche looks down at your plush lips, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip.

"Why are you so shy, hmmm? Is it because we're in a love motel, or is it because you found a box of condoms in the drawers at a love motel?" Scaramouche asks, sticking his tongue out at you.

You look down, refusing to continue to lock gazes with Scaramouche. "Both," you mumble.

Scaramouche hums, kissing the side of your head. You gulp and grab Scaramouche's kimono, tightening your grip. Scaramouche caresses your face, his nose brushing against your cheek. Scaramouche's lips brush against yours. You close your eyes and close the gap.

Scaramouche wraps his arms around your waist while holding the back of your head with his other hand, keeping you in place. Scaramouche deepens the kiss while backing you up against the motel bed. The back of your knees hit the bed, sending you tumbling back. You look up at Scaramouche, who towers over you. Scaramouche kneels on the bed, caging you against the motel bed.

Scaramouche gulps. "You drive me crazy. Did you know that?" Scaramouche whispers.

Before you can open your mouth to respond, Scarmaouche leans down and presses his lips against yours. You automatically wrap your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss while tangling your fingers in his soft damp hair. Scaramouche straddles your hips and begins unraveling your kimono while your hands slide down to the obi and begin unwrapping his. Scaramouche breaks the kiss, brushes his lips against the base of your neck, and starts nibbling on your neck while pulling and yanking the obi off the kimono.

You arch your back to let Scaramouche take the obi off and watch him toss it to the ground. Scaramouche begins taking the kimono off you while you struggle to take the obi off him. Scaramouche chuckles and grabs your wrists, pinning them over your head. He leans down and gazes into your eyes, smirking at you. You gulp and stare up at Scaramouche, watching the pink muscle peek from his lips and swiping over his bottom lips.

"I love watching you struggle," Scaramouche chuckles, trailing one hand down the kimono and opening it.

Your face becomes warm as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling Scaramouche's eyes wander over your almost naked body. Scaramouche bites his lips as he slides one hand down to your chest and gropes it hard. You gulp and peek at Scaramouche, watching him fondle your chest. Scaramouche leans down, takes a nipple between his lips, and begins swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You whimper softly, clenching your fist on the bedsheets. "It's not fair for you to tease me like that," you whine, arching your back and letting out shaky moans the more Scaramouche sucks and licks your nipple.

Scaramouche releases your nipple with an audible 'pop' before looking at you, raising his eyebrows. "If it's not fair for me to tease you, then it's not fair for the others to have you before me," Scaramouche huffs, getting off the bed before grabbing you by the calves and yanking you toward the edge of the bed.

Scaramouche yanks the kimono off your body, tossing it to a nearby chair, and runs his fingers through his hair. Scaramouche gazes down at your almost naked body with hunger. Scaramouche pushes your legs apart with his legs while taking his kimono off his lithe body. The Inazuman clothing slides off his body like melted butter, leaving him in his black, tight-fitted boxers, allowing you to see a prominent bulge. You look away from Scaramouche, face hotter than it was.

Scaramouche snorts. "I don't understand how you're so flustered. This isn't something you haven't seen before," he smirks.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I know, but...." you trailed off.

Scaramouche hooks his fingers over the band of your panties, raising his eyebrows at you. "But?" Scaramouche asks, waiting for you to finish your sentence.

You shake your head. Scaramouche shrugs and slides your panties off, letting them pool around your ankles before throwing them into the pile beside the bed. Now, Scaramouche can take his time on you and do as he pleases. But seeing you sprawling out on the bed, naked with your legs spread, your entrance dripping with need, makes him not want to take his time with you. He wants to be inside of you immediately, plowing his cock in and out of you until you scream and cum around his cock. Scaramouche clenches his jaws and takes his boxers off. His boxers pool around his ankles before stepping out and kicking it to the side.

Scaramouche's cock slaps his abdomen--- the mushroom tip is pink and glistening with pre-cum. Scaramouche reaches down, spreads your folds open, and dips his middle and ring finger into your sweltering heat. You gasp and involuntarily clench around his fingers, whimpering and letting out breathy moans as he steadily pumps his fingers in and out of your entrance. You dug your nails into Scaramouche's arms while he fingers your entrance repeatedly.

Scaramouche leans over you with one arm, buries his face into your neck, and begins leaving hickeys all over your neck. You hook one leg over his waist and pull him toward you. You blindly reach for his erect cock and begin pumping his throbbing hot dick. Scaramouche grunts and bites down on your neck. You tense and arch your back as a choke moan escapes your mouth. All you can hear is heavy breathing coming from you and Scaramouche, the squelching of your sopping-wet entrance, and your hand meeting the base of his cock with each stroke.

The tip of Scaramouche's fingers hits a gummy wall, causing you to freeze in his arms and squeeze his cock. Scaramouche groans and slowly pulls his fingers out from your hole. You release his cock and stare at him with lidded eyes. Scaramouche smirks and licks your juices off his middle and ring finger. You bite your bottom lip, watching Scaramouche suck on his fingers. You can't help but look down at his throbbing red cock, watching it bob up and down from the slightest movement.

"What? You want a taste?" Scaramouche teases, gripping his cock in one hand before kneeling on the motel's bed with one leg and caging you in with the other.

You nod, licking your lips while eyeing Scaramouche's throbbing red cock. Scaramouch hums, pumping his cock while watching your expression closely. Your eyes are hazy with lust and need, your chest heaving up and down with each breath you take. Scaramouche hums, tapping and rubbing the bulbous tip of his cock between your wet folds. You shudder when his dick rubs up against your swollen bundle of nerves.

"I really want to," you whisper, finally taking your eyes off his cock.

Scaramouche snorts, continuing to coat his cock with your juices. "I don't know about that, Sakura Bloom. While you may say that you want a taste, your body seems to want something else," Scaramouche murmurs, grinding and rubbing his cock against your entrance. "What is it that you really want, hm? Do you want to suck my cock, or do you want me to fuck you until you can't walk?"

You don't respond to Scaramouche's teasing comments as he continues to teasingly rub his cock up and down your folds, coating the underside of his cock in your slick. You whimper and bite on your bottom lip. You want to suck Scaramouche's pulsating cock and slurp up all of his cum until there's none left. But you also want Scaramouche to plunge his cock into your sopping-wet heat until the walls of your insides make a mold of his cock.

You throw your head back with frustration. "I don't know! I don't know! Scaramouche, I want both!" You whine, gazing up at Scaramouche pleadingly.

Scaramouche scoffs, prodding your entrance with the tip of his cock. "If you can't decide, then I will make the decision for you, pet," Scaramouche chuckles.

"Wait, what?!"

Scaramouche rams his cock into your wet entrance, causing you to shriek and involuntarily clench your walls around his throbbing cock. Scaramouche pants, propping both his arms beside your head as he sinks his aching dick deep inside of your gummy walls. His eyes roll to the back of his head, gripping the bedsheets hard until his knuckles turn white. Scaramouche pants, burying his face into your neck, latching his teeth on your neck, and nibbling on your skin.

You whimper, locking your legs around his waist and pulling him close to you until your bodies are pressing up against each other. Your walls clench around Scaramouche's dick, trying to adjust to his size. Scaramouche groans, biting down on your neck. You let out a breathy moan when Scaramouche's pubic bone rubs up against your swollen bundle of nerves.

"Stop tensing up so much. Relax your body or else...." Scaramouche trails off, letting out a deep guttural groan.

You pant, digging your nails into his pale back and dragging your nails down to his lower back. You can't help it. The sudden intrusion caused you to tense up and clench around his cock. You take deep breaths, close your eyes, and attempt to relax your body.

"Or else what? You'll cum on the spot?" You choke, cracking a weak smile.

Scaramouche doesn't respond. You peek at him to see his cheeks are red, and so are the tip of his ears. How cute. Scaramouche nearly cummed when your gummy walls clench around his cock while trying to adjust to the sudden penetration. You can't help but snicker, causing the indigo-haired man to snap his head in your direction with a glare.

"Why are you giggling?!" Scaramouche hisses.

You shake your head. "Oh, it's nothing! I find it cute how you nearly cummed," you giggle.

Scaramouche glares at you and thrusts sharply into you. You hiss and arch your back, legs wrapping tightly around his slim waist. He smirks and thrusts into you again, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head, jaws dropping, tongue lolling out of your mouth when the fat mushroom tip of his cock hits a certain spot inside you.

"You seem to like that," Scaramouche comments, scoffing.

Scaramouche pushes himself off you, keeping his cock buried inside you. He stands at the end of the bed, grabs your hips with an iron grip, and pulls you toward the edge of the bed until your ass is hanging at the edge. Scaramouche begins hammering his cock in and out of your heat with no remorse.

"Oh, fuck!" You yelp, grabbing the edge of the bed for dear life as Scaramouche rams his girthy cock in and out of your quivering hole.

Scaramouche growls, grab your hair by the roots, and pulls on it hard. Scaramouche yanks your head back and leans down while continuing to thrust into you with fervor. Scaramouche slams his lips against yours, your and his tongue rubbing against each other. Scaramouche rubs his pubic bone against your swollen, throbbing nub, making sure to put a lot of pressure while doing so.

The bed creaks beneath you while Scaramouche pistons his cock into you repeatedly. Your whimpers, moans, and yelps fill the room while Scaramouche's growls and pants overlap yours.

"You're a filthy slut, did you know that? Sleeping with multiple men before me," Scaramouche growls, ramming the tip of his cock into your g-spot.

You wailed and arched your back, digging your heels into his asscheeks. "Be gentle, Scaramouche! It hurts!" You whine, clawing his back until his pale skin turns red.

"Ha! Did you really think I was going to be gentle with you? A slut like yourself needs to be taught a lesson," Scaramouche growls.

Scaramouche suddenly pulls out of your sopping-wet entrance abruptly, making you cry out in protest. Scaramouche climbs onto the bed and lays on his back. He reaches for your arm and yanks you toward him. You stumble and land on his chest. Scaramouche flips you over on your back so your back faces him and adjusts you on top of him.

Scaramouche slaps your ass, "Ride me."

You huff in response and grab the base of his cock, and sink down onto his cock. You lean back, place your hands on his stomach and begin to bounce on his cock. Scaramouche grabs your wrists and pins them back, and thrusts his cock up into your entrance. You grit your teeth and plant your feet on the bed beside his thighs and begin bouncing up and down on his cock.

Scaramouche suddenly stops you midway, hooks his arms underneath your knees, and brings them up until your knees are beside your shoulders. He clasps his hands together and begins thrusting up. The new position has you gasping and curling your toes as the bulbous tip of his cock rams into your cervix repeatedly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You gasp, head falling back as you succumb to pleasure.

Your entrance spasms around Scaramouche's cock as you're nearing your end. An all too familiar feeling starts forming in your lower abdomen as Scaramouche batters his cock against your g-spot. Scaramouche's thrusts start to become sloppy as he starts chasing after his orgasm. Scaramouche releases one leg and reaches for your swollen nub, pinching, squeezing, rubbing, and twisting the throbbing nub.

The tight knot in your lower abdomen suddenly snaps, and you cum all over his cock before collapsing onto him. Scaramouche slams his cock into your cervix, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside of your entrance with a growl. He releases your other leg and presses his cock inside you, making sure to fill you to the brim with his cum until there is nothing left.

Scaramouche wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to lay beside him, his cock remaining buried inside of your cum-filled entrance. You take a deep breath and open your eyes, vision still blurry from your orgasm. Scaramouche mindlessly reaches for the blanket and covers your body. Scaramouche presses his lips against the back of your head, closing his eyes and trying to catch his breath.

Scaramouche reluctantly pulls his cock out from your entrance. You wince at the emptiness before gingerly rolling over to face Scaramouche. Scaramouhce caresses your face and kisses your jawlines, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his chest. You press your hands against his chest and close your eyes.

"You cum fast," you mumble.

Scaramouche scowls and pinches your ass. You squeal and slap his hand away from your ass, glaring up at Scaramouche.

You huff. "That's not a bad thing, you know! It means I got a good—"

Scaramouche covers your mouth, his face bright red. You remove his hands from your face before scooting close to him, hooking your leg around his waist. You freeze and shudder, feeling the mix of your and Scaramouche's cum oozing from your sullied entrance. You slowly remove your legs from Scaramouche's waist and wince.

The birds chirp outside, and the sun peeks from the blinds. You close your eyes and snuggle up against Scaramouche, lacing your fingers with his while Scaramouche kisses the side of your head. The door slams open as you and Scaramouche are about to fall asleep. You and Scaramouche jump and stare at the door, covering your naked bodies with the blanket. Dottore and Pantalone step into the motel room, looking around the messy room with amusement.

"Ah! So that's where the two of you wandered off!" Pantalone chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Scaramouche hisses, "What are you two doing here?!"

Dottore giggles and steps over your and Scaramouche's discarded panties and boxers. "Well, we heard there was a storm going on in Inazuma, and Lord Ayato sent us out to search for the both of you!" replies Dottore.

You hold the blanket against your chest, heat rushing to your face as you stare at Pantalone and Dottore, completely mortified. Pantalone closes the door behind him before walking over to where Dottore stands, flashing you and Scaramouche a teasing smile. Oh no. You recognize that smile of his.

"You heard us, didn't you?" you whisper.

Dottore and Pantalone nod. "That we did."

You collapse onto the bed while Scaramouche stares at the two men with disgust and embarrassment. Wait, how did they get into your and Scaramouche's motel room so easily? You're going to interrogate them when you guys return to the abode. You're too mortified to question them while butt-naked under the blanket.

Note: Ahhh, not the best smut, I tried my best 🥹 it's been a while since I've posted something for the Crave smut series, and I hope I can post more in the future. I'm not entirely satisfied with how short this fic (mainly the smut part) is, but I will try to make it up to you Scara simps in the future! I do have an idea for a Scaramoche individual fic, and I'll most likely toss smut into the mix. If you're new here and have never read my fics before, I do have another Scaramouche smut you can read. It's Route 1 of the Burning Desire series (in my masterlist). I like that smut better than what I have written out for Crave 7, mainly because it's longer. If you guys want, you guys can join my discord server to get fanfic updates and see the progress of the upcoming fanfics in [Zhongli's Server]. You're not obligated to join, but it'd be nice to have new members :) Please be respectful to everyone and remember to follow the server rules. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings to see if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

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cherubfae · 2 months

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Request: You know that scene from The Show must go on with Charlie and Vaggie singing the reprise of "More Than Anything" On the night before the battle with the angel exorcists? Well can you do that but with Husk and his s/o with the two talking about how much has happened but they’ll always stand by each other’s side even if they’re freaking terrified about the outcome of it all and saying the word “I love you” for the first time in the process

|| Is 'I Love You' Enough to Survive This? || Husk x reader

Combining these two together!! Here ya go! :3

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, hazbin spoilers, fighting, violence, established relationship

a/n: the alastor fan in me tried my best to not skew this is Al's favor 😭😭 I'm so down bad for him

If this was the end, you needed to make it count. The Exterminators were coming any minute now and there's no telling just how long Alastor's shield would hold. The weight of your deal with the Radio Demon was heavy in the back of your mind.

"Let Husker go, take me instead! I'll do what you want, just set him free, please! I'll make a deal with you!" You hold your hand out towards the red demon, his wicked grin only deepening.

"Hey, babe, no! Don't, it's not worth it--" A burst of green magic fills the hallway, cutting off Husk's sentence; Alastor's hand is clasped in yours. The deal has been struck.

Alastor smirks, snapping his fingers. The glowing green collar and chain leaves Husk's throat and wraps around yours. A contract materializes before you, you do your best to drown out Husk's pleas as you sign your soul away to Alastor.

"Alastor, you twisted fucker! Let them out of this! They don't owe ya anything!" Husk snarls, fur fluffing up. Alastor clicks his tongue, lips curling into a smirk. Radio static seems to purr from the demon.

Unphased as always. "They made their choice, Husker. You're free. Enjoy it."

It wasn't long after that the Hotel was besieged by the angelic Exorcists. Alastor's shield shatters beneath the holy power of Adam and Lute; the war has begun. Let the extermination commence.

Bodies littered the front yard of the hotel. The surviving angels have retreated, carrying Adam's dead body with them. Sir Pentious had bravely sacrificed himself for his friends and Alastor retreated to lick his own wounds from facing Adam head-on.

You were standing in yours and Husk's shared bedroom. He wouldn't look at you. His shoulders dropped low, there is pain in his yellow eyes.

"I appreciate what you did for me, honey, but I wish you didn't. Alastor is not the kind of person ya want owning your soul, but at least he seems to like ya well enough. I'm thankful for that. Ya got moxie." Husk sighed, turning to fully face you now. "I was scared to lose you. Before I could even tell you that I love ya. I love you, darlin'."

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

Your hands slip against his paws, smiling as you cup his furry cheeks. "I love you too, Husker." Nuzzling his nose softly, you share a slow, intimate kiss. "I've got a word or two to share with Alastor.. He may look like a fuckin' twig but he's strong. His downfall is that he's also on a leash. I'm gonna get you out of this, even if it's the last damned thing I do."

#hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin imagines #husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #cherubfae 2024

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halfagone · 8 months

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The Power of DPxDC

There has been a lot of anti-DPxDC sentiment going around lately; if you haven't heard about it, then don't worry about it. This isn't a post about the negativity, this is a post celebrating how much we've done as a crossover fandom!

Just as a bit of perspective, I've been reading fics from DPxDC since 2020. Now that might not seem like a long time ago, but back then we didn't even have 100 fics for the crossover as a whole, and look at us now! This is a screenshot from Ao3 just today:

Incredible, isn't it? Look how much we've grown and contributed and shared! And that's not even mentioning all the wonderful Tumblr prompts and posts and incredible fanart. DPxDC has us in a chokehold and it isn't about to let go any time soon.

I know it can be a little disheartening to see all the people trying to drag us down. I know I've been left disappointed in some cases, but I also know that my love for the crossover hasn't abated at all, and I hope it stays that way with you all too!

There is so much engagement in this crossover, I cannot tell you enough how much you all have spoiled me with comments and kudos and fanart. A lot of my fandom friends like to tease me for writing so much, but I don't think I could have written half of those fics had it not been for people like you loving them as much as you do.

Passion is the lifeblood of this fandom, of every fandom! And I don't see that going away any time soon for DPxDC.

I know I want to comment and kudos more. I read a lot of fics, but I don't sign in often so that you can see me leaving that kudos, and it's been more and more apparent to me how many people don't realize how much I adore their writing. I'm hoping to fix that!

Some might say that we don't tag our work appropriately, and while that might be true in some cases, I cannot stress enough just how good of a job we're doing. @tourettesdog made a wonderful post not too long ago about tagging, and we do clean work! Not even a full 3% of all the tags they'd seen included a "main" tag, which has been the frustration for most. 3%? That's incredible!

You all deserve some appreciation for the hard work y'all do, and this is it! I hope you all know how well you've fed creators, readers, and fans like me! Don't let up, because we do amazing work. And that deserves to be celebrated.

#dpxdc #i'm gonna be real with you all #dpxdc got me through a TOUGH fandom break #had it not been for this crossover #i might have quit writing altogether #but you're the reason i kept going #and i can't stress enough how much #that means to me now #so thank you too

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bonny-kookoo · 6 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞. | TEASER

There's magic in everything.

Tags/Warnings: Royal Warlock!Jungkook, Maid!Cat Hybrid!Reader, Magic!AU, realistic Fantasy, sci-fi, Strangers to lovers, Fluff, Romance, Angst, mentions of war, Injury, Violence and blood, Smut

Length: ???

There is no taglist for this fic. This is a Patreon-Exclusive.

A/N: due to fantasy stories never doing very well here on tumblr, Exhale will be posted on Patreon only. I've also lost my job, so currently, Patreon is one of the only ways to make money right now. Please understand that I'm gonna advertise it more often due to that. Thank you for your understanding.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"You'll feel at home soon, Sir Jungkook." You say as you place the plate of his food in front of him, his dark eyes looking up at you.

They don't scare you. Neither does the fact that he draws his powers from.. well, not the light. He's shown by now that he still has a kind heart, even if it's a bit hidden and cluttered with other things he deems more important. "I do not need to feel welcome here." He denies, starts to eat quietly, averting his gaze from you.

"Sure, you do not." You respond, turning around to wash the other's dishes in the sink. Jungkook's eyes raise at that, focusing on the way your tail sways from side to side softly.

Your dress looks a lot more.. tailored to you, than he's used to see on maids. In fact, everyone appears to be dressed in clean, and well made clothes that still fit their status and job- but don't appear to be simply given from one to the next. Kim Seokjin knows every staff's name in fact, and does not seem to really draw a line in who he speaks to and who he does not.

Odd.

"But doesn't it feel better?" You ask, singing to yourself as you wash the plates.

Jungkook doesn't respond, simply thinks. He doesn't have to feel at home here. Once King Seokjin doesn't have any use for him any longer, he will be sent out once more. The less connections he makes here, the less he will be driven away from his path. He doesn't need friends, or a home.

He's learned that many times in his life. It'll only hurt.

"How long have you been working here?" Jungkook asks as he rips off a piece of bread to eat. You dry your hands, and sit at the table with him, stretching out your legs beneath if for a moment.

"Hm.. I was living here since Jin-.. King Seokjin was still a prince, Sir." You answer. "I was born in the nearby forest village. My mother became a maid when I was old enough to attend school." You remember.

"Explains your lack of respect for him in your tone." Jungkook says, not looking at you. You stiffen, ears pinning backwards.

"Ah- but I do have respect!" You almost whine. "It's just.. his crowning was years ago, I know. But.. on occasion, I forget the boundaries set by society." You sigh, leaning your chin on your hand. "Any other kingdom would've already had me beheaded." You giggle to yourself.

"Or at least exiled." He mumbles, biting another piece of bread.

It's good that you seem to be aware of the luxury you're experiencing inside this castle. As a mere hybrid maid, you're not much more in status than a dog- and yet, for some odd reasoning, the King himself treats you as much more, just like the other staff. The way he'd spoken to Jungkook, with such familiarity almost, had shown just how soft the King really is. He truly is in need of protection. God knows he probably has not fought a single time in his life.

Just as his food is finished, Jungkook notices your other hand that's not supporting your head. There's something on your palm he's not sure of, but the skin is clearly irritated. He motions for you to turn it over, and you do- scratches having reopened from washing the dishes earlier.

Either you're very dumb, or just very devoted to your purpose in this castle.

He's slow with his movements to give you a way to deny him- but you do not, instead even leaning forward a bit in curiosity to see what he's going to do, as he covers your hand in his own, silver rings bulky on his fingers. There's no glow, or anything really- not much is happening at all, apart from the tingling feeling underneath your skin, stinging from the cuts slowly ebbing away like it's dipped in cold water.

And when he removes his hands, your palm is covered in what looks like black soot almost.. but once you brush that off, the skin is healed- no scars remaining.

"Oh! There you guys are." Yoongi offers, walking closer into the kitchen, a hand on your shoulder as he stands behind you. "The king requests you, Jungkook. " He tells the warlock, who still feels oddly irritated by the man's lack of proper wording regarding him. "And you should clean up. It's late." He says much softer to you, and you nod.

"Look! sir Jungkook healed me!" You hold out your hand, and Yoongi clearly grows irritated, frustration clear on his face.

This is what Jungkook is used to. The anger, distaste, disgust even regarding his practices- this is what's comforting to him. He can work with that, knows that people like this man will not get unnecessarily attached to him and cause problems. He likes that-

"Yah, where'd you even get hurt again?!" Yoongi scolds you instead, however. "Be glad Jin didn't see, or he'd make you report to him daily again.. show me. Is it really healed.?" He mumbles, inspecting your hand, before he shakes his head at you, ears pinned back. "Thank you. She sometimes has the coordination of a dragon hatchling." He says towards Jungkook, and he's caught entirely off guard, eyes wide open and face clearly showing his surprise.

And you just laugh at that, happily so, before you tell him goodnight with a playful bow, running off after teasingly thanking Yoongi for washing Jungkook's dishes.

Which, yet again irritatingly enough, Yoongi indeed does do for you.

This castle is weird.

But fitting for its king, he thinks.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic

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mysterious-ocarina · 4 months

Text

No Control

marauder!Sirius Black x fem!reader

(A/N 1, im american so i’ll prolly get alot of british slang wrong, or just call stuff by what americans say) ( A/N 2, this is kinda an au where Sirius doesn't move in with James and is stuck with the Black family. I had a lot of trouble figuring out what family to put the reader in that would fit my plot and I just ended up putting you in the nott family. I guess if you really wanna think about it (pls don't think too hard about it), your brother is the father of theo nott?) (A/N 3, check this out if anyone wants an explanation of why i've been gone from tumblr for so long)

Warnings: definitely angsty but with some sprinkles of fluff, lots of mentions of abuse (nothing graphic is shown, it's just described to have happened a lot in the past), this is an arranged marriage trope but not enemies to lovers trope, lots of misogyny (lately i've been feeling angry at the world and it's views of women so here is me trying to comfort myself. Sirius black is a woman lover fr). let me know if there is anything else i need to tag cuz this is my most serious fic yet

Main Masterlist HP Masterlist Requests AO3

(5.6k words)

Sirius Black. A name that's known by the majority of the Hogwarts population. And a face that is known (maybe a little too personally) by many wizards and witches at Hogwarts. But not to you.

You've only ever heard about the notorious Sirius black and the gang of hooligans called the Marauders. You've never got to meet any of them personally. You occasionally would see some of them around, but never Sirius. As a Slytherin, you often ran into his brother, Regulus, but you've never really talked to him either, only ever exchanging pleasantries.

It was actually kind of surprising that you've never talked to the Blacks before. You both came from pure blood, supremacist families and both you and Sirius were known to be a bit rebellious against your families (or just rebellious in general).

But none of that matters, when your parents force you to come home for the holidays and basically shatter your resolve.

At Hogwarts, away from the prying eyes of your family, you were most like yourself. Rebellious, outgoing, funny, and even kind. But under the roof of your family's expensive manor, you were nothing more than a quiet, obedient little girl, who's value was determined by whichever man was in charge of her. The perfect, pureblood daughter.

Just as your mother was and is, you are basically a slave to your own blood, specifically your brother and father. And as soon as you're married (arranged to a pure blood. no doubt, without your consent) you'll have to be an obedient little wife for your husband.

The perfect, doting, obedient, docile, pureblood wife. It was all a load of rubbish, you thought, but you would keep the facade up in order to keep the abuse at bay. You learned pretty early on that speaking up for yourself and speaking out of turn was not going to be tolerated.

You were silently eating dinner with your family. Your father and brother were quietly speaking about matters that even if you and your mother cared, neither of you would be allowed an opinion on.

“Honey, we’ll be having important guests for tomorrow's dinner. So make sure you look your absolute best,” your mother spoke to you. She gave you a sympathetic smile knowing the “show” you both would have to put on in front of guests.

“Okay. Am I allowed to know who these guests are?” you swallowed down your food. You were filled with nerves, thinking about what kind of important guests you were going to have.

Your mother bent down closer to your ear, “I’m not supposed to be telling you this-” she shot a quick look to your father to make sure he wasn’t listening, “but it’s the Black family. I’m not sure why they are coming. All I know is that it’s important business with one of their sons.”

You put your fork down on your plate, placing your hands down on your lap in front of you. You let your thoughts wander and only grew more worried. What kind of important business did one of the Black brothers have with your family? To help a little with your nerves, your mother placed a comforting hand on yours before going back to her meal.

The rest of your night was uneventful after that, until you went to bed. You stayed awake for longer than you should have, your mind way too loud to allow you to sleep. You ran through a list in your mind about the millions of different “important business” that the Black family could have with yours. But none of it made sense why they would eat dinner with us. Usually important business was settled in your father’s study, as it was improper for the ladies to be present.

Eventually, you were able to fall asleep and then the next day would start. You woke up late, which was extremely unappreciated by your brother, who was expecting his morning coffee like usual. You were promptly punished, not only by being woken up by him screaming at you, but also with a beating.

You spent the rest of the day trying to find an appropriate outfit for the dinner that would cover the red marks and newly forming bruises on your arms. Your mother lessened the pain of the marks a little during the day but there wasn’t much else that you could do.

Sometimes when you both sat and drank tea, you would often dream together about running away from all of this. The blood supremacy, controlling men, and just downright evil families. But those thoughts and dreams were quickly quelled when the sound of the men's voices could be heard, calling for the maids- I mean women.

Both you and your mom knew, these were only dreams. It was impossible for purebloods to leave the life that they were born into.

You and your mother waited in the foyer, waiting for the guests to arrive. Your dress was rubbing against the lashes on your skin, making you scratch your arms in irritation but soon stopped when your mothers hand landed on yours.

“You’ll only make it hurt worse. Plus, you know you can show any discomfort in front of the guests,” she said softly. She was trying her best to sound comforting but it only served to remind you of the show you both are forced to put on and the lives you’re stuck living.

A knock was heard and muscle memory forced wide, fake smiles onto both of your faces. Your mother opened the door and welcomed the Black family, “Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Black. I hope you had safe travels here.”

As soon as they crossed the threshold, you were in front of them offering to take their coats. They handed them to you as Mrs. Black spoke, “Thank you for having us, Mrs. Nott.”

“My daughter will show you to the dining room while I finish up making dinner,” your mother informed before quickly making her way towards the kitchen.

After you finished hanging up Mr. and Mrs. Black’s coats, you finally had the chance to look at the two Black brothers. Being in his house, you immediately recognized Regulus, who gave you a tight smile. You then looked over to who you assumed was Sirius.

He certainly was as attractive as the girls at Hogwarts always seemed to make him seem. But he wouldn’t make eye contact with you. He was looking toward the ground, still keeping his posture ramrod straight. He had the same look and body language as someone who had just been beaten for disobedience. A look you were familiar with.

Before anyone could get angry with you, you spoke up, respectfully, “If you would follow me, please.”

With your head down, you brought the family to the dining room. Your father and brother both stood up to shake hands with the Blacks. You stood behind your seat, waiting for the men to sit down first. Your father and Mr. Black sat down and engaged in conversation. You watched Regulus take the chair next to his father and looked to see where Sirius was. You were surprised to find him right next to you.

You backed up, unsure why he was standing there. Of course, you would give up your seat if he asked you to. But all he did was pull the chair out and motion for you to sit down. You sat down and thanked him as he pushed the chair in, “Thank you, young master Black.”

In the corner of your eye, you saw your father give a nod at your use of the title. Salazar, you sounded like a damned house elf. But that was the proper way you were to address him.

Sirius scrunched his nose at the title but gave you an understanding smile, “You’re welcome.”

He surprised you once more by taking the seat directly next to yours. You kept your mouth shut, knowing it was best to keep your curious thoughts to yourself, but you did shoot him a kind smile.

Dinner started without a hitch, conversation mostly being between Mr. Black and your father, your mother and Mrs. Black conversing a little bit with each other too. You, your brother, and both Black brothers mostly stayed silent and ate the meal.

Throughout the entire dinner, when nobody was looking, you had been rubbing at your irritated arm in discomfort. You don’t know how long Sirius had noticed but he grabbed your hand under the table just as you were going to bring it back up again. He continued to eat his meal with his other hand, looking like he wasn’t holding your hand under the table at the moment.

At your confused glance, he leaned closer to your ear, whispering, “I know what you’re doing. It’s just going to make it hurt more, the more you keep messing with it. Just squeeze my hand instead.”

He went back to eating, glancing around to find that no one noticed him whispering to you. You squeezed his hand a bit hard as you went back to eating too. Instead of wincing or doing anything to show discomfort, all he did was rub his thumb soothingly on yours.

The butterflies Sirius stirred up in you was enough to distract you from your irritating arm for the rest of the dinner.

“Now,” your father started, rubbing his napkin on his mouth and setting it down on the table, (the universal sign for “stop eating and listen to me”). “Mr. Black and I have recently come to an agreement.”

Sirius squeezed your hand in comfort as his father spoke up, “Seeing as Ms. Nott is the same age as my Sirius, we have arranged for the two of you to be married. It will be after the both of you graduate from Hogwarts.”

Those words echoed in your head as you looked up to the two fathers in shock. Your silverware clattered as it fell from your hand onto your plate. You must have been breaking the bones in Sirius’ hand, holding it as tight as you were.

Despite the fact that you knew it was a bad idea, your adrenaline forced you to speak up, “You can’t do that, father. You can’t just force me to marry someone that I just met.”

The tears in your eyes didn’t fall, years of “training” keeping them from falling.

Your brother gave you a harsh glare at your disrespect. Suddenly your father stood up, slamming his hands on the table. Staring straight at you, his commanding voice not loud but still thundering all the same, “I can, and I will. Do not forget your place in this family and this world. You will do as I say until you are married. Then you will be your husband’s to command.”

In a haste, you let go of Sirius’ hand, placing your hands on the table to stand up. Sirius, thinking quickly, kept you from getting up by grabbing your legs under the table. That didn’t stop your mouth from speaking harshly, “I am nobody’s to command or control.”

Before you could say anything more, your father reached across the table and slapped you across the face. You held your cheek in shock. He’s hit you before but never in front of guests. The entire table sat in shocked silence.

You looked down at your lap, willing your tears not to fall. You noticed Sirius’ hands clenched in his lap, he looked like he was shaking in anger, but his face had a practiced neutral expression. Regulus’ eyes were wide as he looked at you but had no other reaction at the scene that just transpired. The both of them knew not to speak up.

Your brother had a satisfied smirk on his face. You could just hear the thoughts in his head right now. Thank Salazar, someone put her in her place, his face screamed.

Your father sat down and looked towards Mr. Black, “I’m sorry for my daughter’s behavior. I hope you can forgive me for her impudence.”

Mr. Black simply waved his hand in dismissal, “It’s alright. I understand how women are.”

Picking up his whiskey glass, your father sighed, “It’s a shame we can’t put off the marriage to fix her. Maybe your son will be able to crack her.”

Mr. Black took a swig of his whiskey too, “We can only hope. If not, I can think of a curse that surely helped to fix up my Sirius.”

Sirius tensed up next to you. Your father had never used the Cruciatus Curse on you, but it was clear what Mr. Black was referring to and your father seemed to quite enjoy the idea. The two men simply laughed as if that curse wasn’t named an Unforgivable Curse. They laughed, as if your pain was nothing more than entertainment to them.

The dinner went back to normal for the two men and your brother, not noticing the tension felt between the rest of the group. This time, you grabbed Sirius’ hand under the table and rubbed it soothingly. He let out a shaky breath and squeezed your hand.

Losing your appetite, you spent the rest of the meal sitting in silence, holding hands with Sirius. Your thoughts ran completely wild. You were going to be married to him, for the rest of your life, and you had only spoken once. You didn’t even speak. He whispered to you and you listened. Thinking more about it, there are worse boys that you could have been forced to marry.

At Hogwarts, Sirius was known for being rebellious and against his family's traits and values. Salazar, the boy was sorted into Gryffindor, the opposite of his entire family. But what if that was just in the public eye. You didn’t know anything about Sirius except for what you’ve heard from others. For all you knew, the moment you and he were alone, he would revert back to his family’s pureblood values and abuse you just as most pureblood husbands did to their wives.

No, you quickly thought, stop it. You tried to think about the entire situation with a rational head. Throughout the entire dinner, he did nothing harsh towards you. He offered comfort when your arm was bothering you. He kept you from standing when you argued with your father (who knows how much worse the situation could have escalated if you actually, physically stood up to him). He did his best to offer you comfort without your families knowing it.

He’s not an abuser, you rationalized with yourself. You felt the way he tensed up at the mention of the Cruciatus Curse. He would not be like your father or your brother.

After dinner, you were sent straight up to your room. Before you were separated, Sirius softly spoke to you, “Don’t worry, darling.”

His smile reassured you by a fraction, as you got ready for bed. Maybe all of it won’t be so bad.

You didn’t see Sirius, or his family, at all the rest of the holidays. The next time you did see him was on the train back to Hogwarts. You were simply looking for an empty carriage to settle in, when you noticed Sirius coming towards you.

He grabbed your suitcase and brought it to what you presumed was the carriage he was going to be in. You simply followed him, shrinking under the glare that some of his fangirls were throwing your way.

Once the door was shut and you were alone, he finally spoke up, “So, how are you?”

You sat in the seat opposite of him. You were unsure how to proceed, so you took the safe option and responded, “I’m fine, master Black.”

He opened his mouth in shock, before quickly wiping the look from his face, he basically pleaded, “Please don’t call me that.”

“But-” you went to protest, but he cut you off.

“At least, don’t call me that when we aren’t near our families,” he dismissed what you were going to say. All you could do was stare at him. It really did seem he wasn’t like his family.

Growing embarrassed under your stare, he shyly spoke back up, “I hope you know that you can act like you normally do when you’re around me.”

You looked away from him, face flushing, “This is how I normally act.”

He leveled you with a look, “We both know that’s not true. I don’t know you well but I’m sure you have a number of choice words to call me.”

Seeing the amused smirk on his face, your facade broke. You slightly smirked right back at him, “I don’t have any words to call you… Our fathers on the other hand…”

Sirius’ smirk turned into an almost awestruck smile. Before he could say anything back at you, a gaggle of boys had burst into the carriage.

“Pads, you’ll never guess who sent me a letter during break,” James Potter excitedly said. He went to sit across from his friend only to just now notice you. You gave him a sweet smile.

“Who’s this?” James asked, sitting next to Sirius and throwing his arm around him.

Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin followed James into the carriage, taking their seats. Everyone gave you curious but welcoming looks.

Sirius gave you a look, which you nodded to.

“Put up a silencing charm. I’ve got a story to tell you,” Sirius replied, causing the boys to perk up.

The next hour or so was spent with Sirius explaining your arranged marriage to his group of friends. You were relatively silent, not yet comfortable talking to his friends. He left out the parts where you were abused and berated but didn’t spare the details of his own abuse. It seemed he was comfortable sharing what he goes through to his friends. And evidently you too, since you were there listening too.

This was how you found out that he knew about the betrothal before you did. Apparently, he found out just moments before going to the dinner. He tried to refuse his father (the same way you had, you noticed) and received a beating for his insubordination. That would explain the look he had when you first saw him.

You cringed a little, hearing that he was hit but he gave you a reassuring smile. His friends were also really kind and sympathetic to the entire situation. No wonder he seemed comfortable sharing his familial trauma with them, they were extremely supportive.

“Can they really do that?” James questioned, from next to Sirius.

You sighed and crossed your arms, “Unfortunately, yes. There isn’t anything that we can do to avoid it.”

Remus looked up thoughtfully, “Is it possible for you guys to run away from your families?”

You thought about it, “Hypothetically, we could run away from our families and the blood supremacy world, but it would be extremely difficult.”

Sirius spoke up, “Trust me, I’ve debated it my entire life. If we ran away from our families, no doubt we would be financially cut off from them.”

You added, “Not only would we have to somehow have enough money for a place to live, but we would also need to find a job, to keep the place to live. And trust me, families like ours have a lot of power in the wizard world. One word from them, and no one would want or be able to hire us.”

Peter muttered, “That’s horrible.”

Sirius sighed and slouched in his seat, “You’re telling me.”

“Thinking about it, Sirius, you need to put your womanizing ways away. A married man shouldn’t be parading around with any woman that gives him attention,” you added with a teasing smirk.

“You make me sound like a cheap whore,” Sirius replied with a pout.

“You’re not?” James was quick to rebuttal, causing you to laugh at the offended face Sirius gave the both of you. It didn’t take long for the entire group of you to dissolve into laughs and giggles.

Sirius smiled at you, teasingly, “Well how about you? I’m sure your long line of lovesick fools will end up sobbing at the news.”

You glared playfully at him, “I don’t know any lovesick fools. I actually swore off dating a long time ago so this doesn’t affect my love life at all.”

Remus looked at you in bewilderment, “Went from swearing off dating straight to marriage.”

“Quite the jump,” you simply offered in reply. “At least I’m stuck with Sirius and not some blood supremacist twat like my brother.”

“That is true,” Remus reasoned. “You could have been forced with someone who actually believes the rubbish their parents feed them.”

You felt comforted by Remus' words, confirming that Sirius wasn’t like both of your families.

The rest of the train ride was spent getting to know each other. It wasn’t hard to become friends with Sirius and his buddies. The longer you spent with them, the more comfortable you became with the idea of becoming Sirius’ wife. Don’t get me wrong. You still didn’t want to be forced to marry someone that you didn’t know or love, but you were comfortable knowing that he felt the exact same way.

Who knows? Maybe you could fall in love with Sirius the same way a plethora of other girls had.

The rest of your seventh year at Hogwarts went alright. It didn’t take long for rumors to spread that you and Sirius were to be married but for the most part, the gossip didn’t bother either of you that much. It’s not like the rumors were false, so what was the point in denying anything.

The only downside was the threats that a multitude of Sirius fangirls made in your direction. Nothing too serious has happened to you yet, but you knew soon enough that it would be too much for the wrong girl. Turns out, that time would come soon enough.

You were eating breakfast in the Great Hall, Regulus sitting across from you. Since he was to be your brother-in-law, the both of you became friends. You would also find out that he wasn’t like his parents either. He just wasn’t as outward of this fact as Sirius was. Watching what Sirius has put up with, he knew that he wasn’t brave enough to rebel and deal with the consequences.

Earlier in the week, a parcel came by owl for you. In it was a Black family heirloom, a wedding ring. You were told that you had to wear it from now on, even though you guys were still only engaged and not married. Of course, you didn’t argue, though.

You sat staring at the ring. On one hand, you hate what it symbolized. It was your own sick image of slave shackles that tied you down. On the other hand, “It really is quite pretty. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought Sirius picked it out just for me.”

Regulus looked up at you as you spoke. He was confused for a moment until he noticed you glancing at the ring on your ring finger. He swallowed his toast and took a sip of his black coffee, “Well… I mean, it is charmed.”

You gave him a confused look, which only made him look back at you even more confused. His eyebrows raised, “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” you questioned. You looked at the ring and tried to think of what kind of charm it could have been.

Regulus smirked back at you, “Well, Mrs. Black-” you glared at him, only making him smile harder at you, “-When the ring was first made for our grandmother's grandmother, or some other old bat, it was put under some kind of spell.

“It was always meant to be an heirloom and it was charmed to always look the way that the husband, the male with Black blood, wanted it to look. Hypothetically, it was supposed to be a symbol of great love because the husband should know what kind of ring their wife would like to wear. But with our family being the kind of family it is, it was mostly only ever worn as a symbol of possession.

“Rarely, did the husbands care enough about their wives to know what kind of ring they would like to wear,” Regulus finished his story. He was giving you an unreadable smile.

You stared back at him, your expression almost as unreadable as his, scoffing at him, “Well most jewelry is going to be pretty.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t that look like the perfect ring for you,” he smoothly replied.

You simply ignored him, finishing your breakfast. You did your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your chest at the thought that Sirius knew what your perfect ring would look like.

The ring on your finger only served as a reminder to all the girls at Hogwarts that you were to be Sirius’ wife, a fact that was not very well received by the female population. Before you had the ring, the most that would be thrown your way was dirty looks and glares, something you could easily handle. But as more and more people noticed the ring on your finger over the next week, the more serious it became.

You started to receive so much hate mail, that you started to only ever open up letters if they had the official Nott or Black seal. Most of the letters only said foul things to you. Not many people were aware of the arranged part of the marriage, mostly only pureblood Slytherins and Black’s friends knew about that, so a lot of the letters consisted of them berating you and wondering how you got the notorious Sirius Black to fall in love with you (A love potion being the most common guess. Because why would the perfect Sirius Black want to be with a nobody girl like you).

People really are dense these days. How could people possibly jump to any sort of conclusions when no one has ever seen you guys kiss… or even hold hands for that matter. The both of you were friends by now, of course. But that’s it. You guys didn’t just magically fall in love now that you are betrothed.

Well… one of you wasn’t in love. Over the course of getting to know Sirius more for the past few months, feelings did start to stir within you. But you always tried to squash them down as soon as you felt them. Which only made you hurt more.

You were going to get married… without your consent… to a guy that you’ve started to truly care for… despite the fact that he could never care for you the same way. It was all kind of sad, when you really thought about it.

You thought about how you were probably, inadvertently, just a symbol of his slavery to his family and their beliefs. Just as he was inadvertently a symbol of your slavery to your family and their beliefs.

But you were able to look past that. So maybe he would be able to look past it too and see the silver-lining to this whole thing.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you muttered a quicked Incendio at the pile of hate mail in front of you, burning it to ash. Slipping your wand back into your robes, you continued to eat your dinner in relative peace.

If only it could’ve stayed in peace. Two girls, a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff that you didn’t even recognize, sat down on both of your sides. Your confusion was apparent, only widening the smirk on the two girls' faces.

Understanding what was going on, you rolled your eyes, “Do you guys need something?”

“What’s your secret?” the Ravenclaw girl inquired.

You simply continued to eat your food, unaffected by their intimidation. Dryly, you responded, “Whatever could you mean?”

The girls looked at you in disgust, before the Hufflepuff spoke up, “We want to know how you got someone as amazing as Sirius Black to fall for you. I can’t think of anything good about you.”

With another roll of your eyes (if you had a galleon for everytime you rolled your eyes because of these kinds of girls, you would be rich) you cooly replied, “Have you tried, having a personality? I’ve heard it does wonders in making people like you.”

Both girls huffed at your attitude before standing up. The Ravenclaw haughtily informed you, “You better watch your back, Nott. Wouldn’t want anyone to damage Sirius’ goods.”

Using her wand, the Hufflepuff spilled sticky juice all over you, leaving you floundering in shock. You sat for a second seething in anger, only growing more furious as the gross liquid seeped more into your clothes.

By now, most of the great hall was already watching what had happened but at the glare you threw at everyone, people were quick to go back to minding their business.

You got up quickly, making your way out of the Great Hall. You heard footsteps behind you and someone calling your name but you were too blind with rage to bother turning around to find out what they wanted. You had had enough of the girls in this school looking down at you for something that wasn’t any of their business.

You were almost to the girls washroom, when Sirius grabbed ahold of your arm. You quickly whipped around, seething, “What the hell do you want, Black?”

He faltered, unsure how to handle what was happening, “I saw what happened. Are you okay?”

You glared harshly at him, “Do I look okay to you?”

Gobsmacked, he hesitantly replied, “Well, what can I do?”

“Oh gee, Black,” you spit at him. “Maybe you could fix your fanclub who seems to think that I’m Satan incarnate herself.”

Your anger in the moment kept you from thinking rationally, you mocked, “Oh perfect Sirius Black. He’s so hot and amazing. How could a slag like you end up with a man like him?”

Sirius stood, shocked at your outburst but kept silent and let you continue to tear at him, “I’ve heard it all, Black. Your little group of fangirls are so deep into their delusions that they can’t even see that we aren’t in love. The only thing that they are capable of seeing is that I’ll be your wife, consensual or not.

“Those girls don’t even realize the pain it brings me that I’m forced to do this. Those girls don’t see the pain my family has put me in, time and time again. Those girls don’t see the pain they cause me with their vitriolic jealousy,” You finished your rant off, poking at his chest with each sentence. Breathing deeply after explaining how this all made you feel, you watched as he processed everything you said.

He seemed unsure of how to continue, until anger and what looked like insecurity started to cover his face. He moved your hand away (very lightly, you noticed) and started to step towards you as he raised his voice back at you, “Well what do you expect me to do about literally anything about this situation. I’m sorry that having to marry me is the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

“Sirius,” you sighed, regretfully.

But he was quick to continue before you could, “No, you got to tear me out, so now it’s my turn. Trust me, this hurts me too. I know how horrible our families and their rubbish traditions are. You are just as familiar with the abuse as I am, meaning that you know just as well as I do, that there isn’t anything that either of us can do against this.”

He took a step back and a deep, calming breath. He looked at you with an expression that was unreadable, “I wish there was something, anything, that I could do to help us feel less trapped but there’s nothing to do.”

You took a step closer to him, “Nothing about you, is the worst thing to ever happen to me. Really, if anything, you’re the best thing to happen to me. It’s because of you, that I feel less alone.”

At your admission, Sirius let out a breath of relief, as if you just lifted the world off of his shoulders. Was he really that worried about being a burden to you? You spoke up again, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. None of this is your fault and I shouldn’t have let my anger out on you.”

Sirius sighed, muttering the scourgify charm. The sticky juice was instantly cleaned off you and you already felt a little bit better.

Sirius grabbed your hand, holding it in both of his, “It’s alright. I understand what you’re going through. But we can get through this together.”

“You’re right,” you responded with a soft cry. You fell into his chest and softly cried out your frustrations. Sirius stood there, soothing you as best as he could, unwilling to let you out of his embrace.

“How about tonight, you meet me in the astronomy tower? We can do whatever, it doesn’t matter what. We can just hang out and forget about our families for once,” Sirius offered. He still had his arms around you in comfort.

Once your sniffles subsided, you hugged him just a little bit tighter, “That sounds amazing, Sirius.”

(A/N, I was thinking of doing a part 2 if you guys are interested. I was thinking it would be after the marriage but you guys still dance around the feelings you have for eachother. maybe you guys find a way to run away together too. i dont really know, yall let me know what you think)

#sirius black #marauders #marauders era #sirius black x you #sirius black one shot #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #female reader #fluff #fanfiction #arranged marriage #angst

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lucozadehulahoop · 1 year

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Star-crossed. Lo'ak x fem!human!reader

This was originally posted on my side blog @thankeywa. It's a brand new blog and tumblr thinks it's a bot so it's not giving it visibility. Please go give it some love, I want all my avatar!related stuff to be on there.

PART 2 HERE PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE

I know that literally nobody asked for this, but I've noticed a disturbing lack of Lo'ak fics out there, so I've decided to give my input. I've had a story in mind for a while now, and I needed to get it out there. It will be a reader insert to make it more accessible, but it's somewhat based around an original f!character, so I apologize for that in advance if it gets too specific.

WARNINGS: Lo'ak is 20 years old in this and so is the reader, I do not write about minor characters. There will be eventual mature themes in this so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK.

For everyone else, if you like my writing, please let me know if you want to be on the tag list for future installments and SEND ME REQUESTS (head canons, imagines, sfw/nsfw, ecc.) ! I love that shit.

words: around 1.200

summary: reader is a human left behind on pandora, she grew up with the remaining humans who'd been aloud to stay on the planet after the war and has been friends with the Sully clan her entire life. She and Lo'ak were best friends until he began to pull away from her in their teen years for seemingly no reason. This story is about them reconnecting on the day of her twentieth birthday, and dealing with the feelings they have for each other and the obstacles that come with them being from two different worlds.

TW for this chapter: angst, smoking (don't do it, ever), brief mentions of alcohol, brief mention of war and death, brief mention of child birth, reader can breathe on pandora.

Y/n looked at the 'birthday cake' made out of cookie rations that Norm and Max had made for her. No matter how many years would pass, her dads always knew how to get creative.

"I'm twenty years old, you guys don't have to keep throwing me a birthday party." She reprimanded them softly, though her heart was filled with joy. Y/n was so thankful to have people in her life who cared enough to make her day special every single year.

"Considering you spent most of your early existence tied to test tubes to stay alive, we're merely celebrating the scientific marvel your continued survival has been." Norm joked, raising a beer, and y/n shoved him, before blowing out the single candle that had been meticulously re-used each year. It was a wonder how there was any wax still left on it.

"What did the birthday girl wish for?" Max asked, reaching for a dried-up cookie and cringing slightly at the taste as he chewed on it slowly. "The whole point of a birthday wish is to keep it to myself... or it won't come true. Honestly, I question your two's knowledge of Earth's traditions." y/n shook her head, before taking a celebratory sip of alcohol.

Norm and Max left eventually, back to the main base. They were more than capable of piloting a helicopter those days, and y/n was all grown up. More than capable of living by herself. What once had been an avatar lab, smack dab in the middle of the forests of Pandora, had been converted into her home. Pandora's rapidly repopulating fauna had surprisingly left her residence alone, well... mostly. There were still some creatures who couldn't help but keep themselves away. And by creatures, she meant Spider. Y/n was also friends with actual people like Neteyam, Kiri, Tuk, and... Lo'ak. Truth be told, she didn't know whether or not she and Lo'ak were even friends anymore. They'd been thick as thieves for as long as she could remember, always getting him out of trouble and fixing him up after a scuffle with his siblings. But then, around her sixteenth birthday, he'd started pulling away, and y/n had never understood why. They'd had a big fight about it, bottom line, he hadn't wanted to be around her anymore and y/n had to accept it.

"Open up! It's fucking freezing out here!" Came Spider's loud voice followed by an incessant banging on the door that immediately pulled y/n out of her reverie. "Alright, alright..." she laughed a little as she went to let them all inside. The Sullys were always insisting on spending birthdays together, even though some of them were now getting too big to even fit inside her 'home'. Neteyam had to walk around with his back bent forward, and Kiri knocked over quite a few things before they made it to y/n's main living space, which was more or less Na've-proof. "Happy birthday!" Tuk hugged her and y/n struggled not to feel crushed by the embrace. Even the littlest Sully was now nearly as tall as her.

Y/n let them all inside, already giving them dirty looks at the sight of gifts. "I told you guys not to..."

She stayed on the doorstep a little longer, gazing out into the night, desperately hoping one last uninvited guest would turn up. She felt Neteyam's hand on her shoulder. "He's not coming. I tried to talk to him but he was being a skxawng as usual..." Y/n blushed, not really wanting Neteyam to know she was pining for his younger brother. "Oh, right! I was—just checking you were all here..." she closed the door and they both went back to join the others.

___

"Alright come on, your mom is going to kill me if you get back late and I don't have enough space in here for all of you. Spider would have to sleep outside." Y/n teased, trying to let Tuk understand it was time to go. "Hey!" Spider protested at her lighthearted jab, but knew it was time for them to get going. Nobody wanted to get on Neytiri's bad side. Y/n hugged them all goodbye and thanked them for the presents: Tuk had made her a lovely drawing, and the others had collectively made her a rather beautiful necklace, which she immediately wore. Y/n waited on her doorstep till she could no longer hear the sounds of her friends chatting, and then proceeded to do two incredibly dangerous things: she sat outside of the protection of her bunker, all alone in the cold Pandora night air, and lit up a cigarette.

She'd discovered a terrifyingly endless supply of cigarette cartoons back at the base almost a year prior, and as soon as she'd tried her first one, she'd gotten addicted. Y/n hadn't told Norm or Max, of course, as it would have broken their hearts, especially because of how fragile she was. Y/n's mother had gone into labor in the aftermath of the battle for Pandora between the Na'vi and the Sky people. The soldier had lost her life giving birth, but her baby had survived, taking her first breath in the inhospitable Pandora air. Norm was convinced Eywa herself had kept her alive, had given her the ability to take in the air that hadn't previously failed to kill any other human. Sure, it had come at the price of being particularly fragile her entire life. And how was y/n repaying that gift? By cutting her miraculous existence short more and more each day. Thankfully, it was a while since she'd been used as a test rat, or had check ups of any sort. As far as the Sullys were concerned... they were way better off not even knowing what she was doing to herself.

A sudden rustling in the trees instantly made y/n alert and she didn't waste any time getting back inside. She showered, and shamefully hid her smokes somewhere her dads or the Sullys wouldn't look. When she had nothing else left to do, y/n forced herself to crawl into bed, placing a hand over her necklace. Her wish to see Lo'ak hadn't come true in the end, and while not surprising, it still hurt like hell.

"A pack of viperwolves? Seriously, Lo'ak?" Y/n groaned in frustration as she cleared her table for her best friend to lie on.

"I thought I could take them." He hissed as she doused him with disinfectant. "Yeah, well, you know human medical treatment hurts like a bitch, so it's either my way, or you're going to have to fess up to your parents about what you did." Y/n tried to sound cold, but she'd always been too soft on him.

When they were younger, and Lo'ak still hadn't grown to be double her size, they would often fall asleep together in her bed. "You don't have to keep doing this shit to prove something, you know?" She whispered to him one night, turning over to look at him and gently touch his face. "Your parents love you. And so do Neteyam, Kiri, Tuk and Spider. Lo'ak, I— we— don't want to lose you."

Y/n was almost asleep when a loud 'thud' coming from outside woke her. Something was moving on her roof, or rather, someone... Y/n didn't show whether she was dreaming or not as she looked out the window and locked eyes with Lo'ak, because the second she did, he seemed to slide off the top of her bucker, falling down into the grass below with a loud groan.

He'd probably just woken up half of the animals on Pandora.

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crowleyholmes · 4 months

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hi there chris! since the new year is approaching rapidly, i wanted to ask my favorite creators (that includes you! i love your art!) how they look back on their 2023 tumblr year and which blogs made them happy to be here. i am very happy to follow you and hope you'll have a great 2024! 💘

Hiiii omg this is so sweet and means a lot to me, thank you! 🥺💕

I've been meaning to do a little end-of-the-year shoutout/love post for some of my favorite blogs, so I hope you don't mind if I use your ask as the perfect excuse!

I've had many fun years on tumblr, but this one has been extra special. Falling into the Good Omens fandom and meeting all of you amazing people has made this year so so SO much better than it otherwise would have been, so here are some special shoutouts (apologies, I'm sure this will get long, things like this tend to get away from me, so I'll put it under a read-more)

@majortomyourcurcuitsdead SASHA can you believe I was going to just send you an anon telling you that I think you're cool and leave it at that. Can you believe it. WELL thank Somebody you had your anon turned off and I had to expose myself in your dms because it feels like we just instantly connected about like 20 different things and haven't stopped talking since sskjdfhs anyway I'm so happy I met you you're so fun and so clever and so talented and so enthusiastic and I've only known you for like. What 2 months?? Ish? But I already love you so much <3

@lineffability !!! Line you are so *struggles to find words* you're just great is what you are okay. I feel like you are what happens when somebody takes a big cup and puts six shots of love, chaos, sunshine, talent, fun, and enthusiasm into it, generously sprinkles intelligence on top and gives it a good stir. I don't even remember how or when or why we started talking tbh? But your creativity is so inspiring, and some of my favorite tumblr-moments of this year have been 'yes-and'ing with you about one thing or another in a very >:3 manner hahah so! my point is! i love you lots <3

@dontbotheraziraphale Teeeedddd you're wonderful, I vented at you one time and then we talked for like 2 hours and at the end of that 1 conversation I already considered you a friend - and not just in that "tumblr mutuals who talk 1 time are my friends" kind of way but like. Genuinely. You're so kind and so fun and every time we talk it's such a good time ily a lot my bro my buddy my man <3

@crikey01 Tallulah HI I also completely forgot how we started talking but I remember connecting the dots that you were the one who painted those INSANE black and white and gold oil paintings and the way my jaw dropped like?? BRO you're so talented I admire you so much! And I love that we bonded over stopping each other from masochistically checking certain peoples' blogs... 😂 Anyway you're so sweet and fun and ily lots <3

---

The list could probably go on but you four are the people I've talked to most on here and you're the tumblr chat boxes I never close but always just minimize and y'all better see this as the ultimate internet declaration of affection that it Clearly is >:D 💕

---

And here are some more shout-outs because I just HAVE to.

Apologies, I know I've already tagged a bunch of you recently in a mutuals appreciation post but. This is my official thank-you-for-2023 post and I just have a lot of love for you all okay sorry feel free to ignore this <3

@rowan-ashtree (i'll text you back soon I promise I'm sorry I just haven't had the brain-space recently ssjkdfh) @crawley-fell (we've never talked but i love you from afar :')) @ineffabildaddy @llokilaufeyson @actual-changeling @saryasy @hyperfocusthusly @beccibarnes @rainbowcrowley @thesherrinfordfacility @goodoldfashionednightingale @wibbly-wobbly-blog @highlyillogicalandroid (i see your data obsession and i agree <3) @tortugay @foolishlovers @stargazing-crowley @gingiekittycat @weasleywrinkles @bildads-shoes @finleycannotdraw @bowtiepastabitch @heytherefluffy @samwwise @nocturnal-birb @athousandyearstime @angelsdiningattheritz @most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer @jedthesecretdreamer @wraithee @hydrangeadangea @southfarthing @frodo-baggins @mobius-m-mobius

#asks #2023 reflections #personal #friends and mutuals and others appreciation post <33

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yourlocaldisneyvillain · 9 months

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...the dawn of ♥ kink!week ♥ is upon us...

(don't know what kink week is? click here!)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ those faint of heart, look away and shield thine eyes — miserable sinners, prepare; for we have entered the unholy week ∼

∼ day one brings us our beloved metallic lady ♥ Jane Murdstone ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

tags: #alternate universe - modern setting #dominatrix #bdsm #bladder control #watersports #piss kink #mistress/slave #dom/sub play #fetish clothing #leather gloves #face slapping #degradation kink #humiliation #golden shower #masturbation #aftercare #kink!week

don't look away (as i bare my soul to you) (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

You will always remember the night you met her.

You were attending a house party organised by one of your good friends — very much a social butterfly, unlike yourself — and you weren't surprised there were all sorts of interesting people there, and that one of them just happened to be the tallest, most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

You could tell she was exceptionally bored as she sat on the couch alone, long legs crossed, typing on her phone and absentmindedly sipping her wine. You probably stared at her for a full minute, just awkwardly hanging by the door with your own drink, taken by her commanding presence and how stunning she looked just in her casual black slacks and blouse that was unbuttoned just enough that you could almost see her bra if you angled your head the right way.

You surely would have stared much longer had she not lifted her gaze and raised her eyebrow at you. You immediately felt your cheeks burn and your palms sweat, embarrassment overwhelming you, as if you’ve been caught doing something terribly wrong. You opened your mouth, wanting to say something, but you didn’t know what could be said after so rudely staring at someone, so you turned to leave.

What stopped you from fleeing in shame, with your tail between your legs, was that she smirked and gestured you to join her, tapping a spot next to her on the couch. You immediately obeyed. No other option even crossed your mind — something about this woman drew you in.

“Jane Murdstone,” she said with a delicious, velvety English accent, extending her arm towards you as you sat next to her. You noticed how piercingly blue her eyes are.

“My palms are sweaty,” you said stupidly, looking at her with your mouth slightly agape, feeling as if you were in the presence of a goddess.

“Then wipe them on your trousers,” she said calmly, cocking her head. The corner of her lips barely perceptibly curled upwards.

You wiped your palms on your trousers and went on to shake her hand. You immediately noticed how big it is compared to yours, and you didn’t know why it flustered you so much. She gave you a firm squeeze and lingered a second longer than necessary.

“Will I get a name, or just reports on the state of your palms?” she asked.

You stuttered while telling her your name, but she didn’t comment on it.

“Do I have something on my face?” she just asked, leaning back into the couch and swinging her arm over the headrest.

“Why?” you asked back, confused.

“You stared at me for a full minute,” she answered, smirking, and took a sip of her wine. She never once broke eye contact with you — it made you squirmy, but you couldn’t look away, as if under a spell. You felt as if she was looking at your very soul — bare and unprotected and vulnerable.

“I—I’m sorry, I just thought… I just thought you were beautiful,” you managed to utter.

“Did you, now?” she asked, looking very amused .

You nodded.

“Well, thank you. But don’t you know it’s quite rude to stare?”

That finally made you avert your gaze in shame. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, don’t worry — I like making people flustered. I’m having a lot of fun right now.”

You looked up at her again. She was staring at you with that piercing gaze that made you feel completely naked, her blue eyes twinkling in amusement. “And what do you do for fun?” she asked.

Oh, you were completely enraptured by her.

You spent the entire evening talking about everything and nothing. You were surprised how comfortable you felt with her, despite her commanding presence — or maybe because of it. She never paid any attention to you stuttering, nor your blushing — she just sat there and waited until she got an answer to a question she asked. It made it hard to avoid talking about yourself — and oh, it felt so good to talk about yourself for once.

At one point you asked her what she did for work — and then choked on your drink when you heard the answer. It surprised you, even though her commanding presence could have been an inkling — but she just looked so normal, with her dark brown hair in a loose bun, her tasteful and minimal makeup, and her slacks, blouse and pumps that made her look like a businesswoman on her evening off.

“A dominatrix? That’s really cool,” you said, blushing, “I just didn’t expect it. Don’t get me wrong, but you just look very normal.”

She raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her wine. “Oh, and what did you expect? Latex? Or leather?”

You felt very silly because that is exactly what you expected. “Sorry, I just… I just never met a dominatrix before.”

“So, not familiar with that world, I presume?”

“Not really. But, I mean… I’m… interested. I mean, not interested interested, don’t get me wrong. I just, you know, had like, thoughts, and I’d never actually do it, but I think about, I mean not think about, just like… I wonder sometimes, you know, like what it’d be like, like, none of the hardcore stuff, but just, you know—”

She interrupted your pathetic rambling. “Would you want to try it?”

You froze. “What?”

“Would you want to try it?” she repeated. Her expression was completely calm and neutral, as if she just asked you about your favourite colour.

“I—I—I mean, that would make no sense. I was always… I’m boring. I just go to my job and then I go home. It couldn’t be into something like that, like, it’d be so out of character and it… it just makes no sense that I would, you know, be like…. into it,” you fumbled.

“I didn’t ask you if it would make sense. I asked if you’d like to try it.”

You spent the next couple of seconds just staring at her, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. She just sat there in silence, calmly sipping her wine, waiting for you to answer.

And finally, you did.

“Yes.”

You glance at the clock.

It’s 12pm — another five hours until the end of your work day, and you already can’t focus on anything else besides the pain in your bladder.

You press your thighs together — you can do this.

You take in a deep breath before turning your attention to the pile of paperwork laying on your desk — mocking you and waiting for you to go through it. And you will — you must. It has to be done by the end of the day. You won’t let yourself get fired — you’ll push through.

You wouldn’t want to disappoint your Mistress, after all.

Jane has been your Mistress for about six months now, and slowly you are starting to venture into kinks you never thought you’d admit being interested in — to anyone — ever. You were fully prepared to take those with you to the grave.

Truth be told, you once thought the same about trying out a BDSM lifestyle, and then… well. Then you sort of stumbled into it — and now it’s something you do on a Monday afternoon after working hours.

Or, in this case, during working hours.

Your belly tingles with excitement just thinking about it — no one knows you’re engaging in a sexual fantasy of yours right now.

You clench your thighs together again — both to help with the fact that you really need to pee right now and to give provide some friction. You know, however, that you absolutely cannot touch yourself, nor go to the bathroom — not until 6pm today, when your scheduled session takes place.

You smile and start sorting through the paperwork in front of you. You’re giddy with anticipation.

6pm can’t come soon enough.

You can barely stand when you get to her apartment and ring the doorbell. Your bladder hurts — you don’t think you can hold it in much longer.

She opens the door in a black, silken night-robe. Her long hair is loose and fluffy around her shoulders, she isn’t wearing any makeup, and she’s barefoot. She seems to be naked underneath the robe. It’s unusual — she normally puts on something more fitting for her role. however, you still think she looks gorgeous — perhaps even more so than usual.

She eyes you up and down. “Come in,” she says, face impassive, then turns around and walks towards the playroom. “Coat, bag, shoes,” she commands, not bothering to turn around or look at you as she disappears into the room on the right.

You quickly hang your coat and bag and take your shoes off before you follow her, pressing your thighs together and clenching your pelvic muscles as hard as you can.

She waits for you in the playroom, sitting on the big couch next to the window. She gestures for you to stand in the middle of the room.

“Stand here and don’t move. You’ll watch me get dressed. When I’m done, you can go to the bathroom.”

As much as the thought excites you, you don’t think you can last even another ten minutes.

“But, Mistress, I… I don’t think I can hold it in much longer. It’s been an entire day.”

“Well,” she says, tilting her head. She watches you squirm from the couch, lips curling in amusement. “If you can’t make it, you’ll just have to go right here.”

“R-right here?” you repeat. You can feel your cheeks starting to burn. “But… I can’t.”

“Well, if you can’t then you won’t,” she simply says and gets up from the couch. She walks towards the little vanity in the corner of the room and stars sorting through her makeup. “And if you can, you are welcome to. However — you don’t get to use the bathroom until I’m done.” She sits down on the little chair and starts applying moisturiser on her face.

“But—but—” you start, but she interrupts you.

“You will not give me attitude, or there will be consequences,” she says, looking at you through the mirror. The tone of her voice sends a shiver down your spine — cold, uncompromising, and so fucking hot.

“Yes, Mistress,” you say and your voice sounds squeakier than you intended.

“Poor little thing — always so flustered around me,” she coos while dabbing concealer under her eyes, saccharine condescension oozing from her voice. “You just need to be stepped on, don’t you? You need someone to tell you what to do and when to do it — even your bodily functions. Can’t even do that yourself.”

“No, Mistress,” you say, shuffling on your feet, pressing your thighs together. Your bladder really hurts.

“Stop squirming,” she says, dusting eyeshadow on her lids and glancing at you in the mirror. “You have one very simple task and it is to stand still. Or are you too incompetent even for that?”

“It really hurts, Mistress. May I sit down?” you ask.

“No.”

You try your best not to squirm. You press your thighs together as tightly as you can, trying to take deep breaths to soothe yourself and breathe through the pain. You somehow manage to zone out — you watch her do her makeup, as if in a trance, and you’re proud of yourself for doing rather well. You make it through powder, mascara, blush, eyeliner and lipstick, and before you know it, she’s done. She fluffs out her hair and checks her makeup in the mirror, and then she gets up and turns to look at you.

“You’re doing well,” she says. “A bit too well. Is this too easy, hm?” she asks, approaching you.

“No, Mistress.”

She stands in front of you — and fuck, she’s so tall. It makes you feel all fuzzy and tingly inside.

“Oh, I disagree,” she says. She throws the robe off of herself, revealing that she is, indeed, naked underneath. You mouth waters. “You’ll help me get into my corset.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She turns and walks towards the couch. Her ass and thighs jiggle as she walks. You lick your lips, and your belly tingles — you hope she lets you touch her today. You’d love to worship her.

Laying on the couch, you only now realise, is the outfit she picked for herself for today — a black corset, a leather harness, black stockings, and — your favourite — black leather gloves. Black heels are on the floor next to it. You see no panties of any kind, which is a bit unusual, but not unwelcome.

She takes the gloves first. She makes eye contact with you as she slowly puts them on, taking her time, wiggling her fingers and clenching her fist after she slides each of them on — and it’s so hot you almost forget abut the burning pain in your bladder. Your mouth gapes open and your heart beats faster.

“Close your mouth,” she says sternly before she moves on to the stockings, and you immediately obey.

She puts one long leg on the couch and slides the stocking on — painfully slowly — then does the same with the other one. You lick your lips and squirm again. “Don’t. Squirm,” she commands.

“Sorry, Mistress.”

She slides her feet into black heels, then grabs the corset before she slowly walks to you, swaying her hips. Her breasts bounce as she moves and you can’t help but stare. She’s even taller now with the heels on, and it makes you giddy. You feel so tiny next to her.

As soon as she reaches you, she slaps you across the face — hard. You gasp.

“You can’t even follow simple directions — stand still and keep your mouth closed. How many times to I need to say it, hm?” she says and grabs your jaw with her gloved hand. She presses her fingers into your cheeks so hard it hurts. “Answer me.”

“I—I’m sorry, Mistress, it won’t happen again,” you utter, eyes wide, chest slightly heaving. You have to crane your neck so far back to meet her gaze — you love it.

She lets go of your jaw, and then immediately slaps you again, making you suck in a sharp breath.

“How is your bladder?” she asks as she wraps the corset she’s holding around her torso. It’s already buckled in the front, but the laces on the back are loose.

“It hurts, Mistress.”

“Poor thing,” she says, her face stony, as she pokes your belly with her finger. You tense your muscles and clench your thighs together.

“Please, Mistress — it hurts,” you say. You’re doing so well — but if she does that again, you know you won’t be able to hold it in.

“Does it now?” she asks condescendingly.

“Yes, Mistress.”

She simply chuckles.

“Tie this. Make it tight.”

She turns around, holding the corset pressed to her stomach, and you immediately start working on the laces. The pain in your bladder is becoming worse by the minute, especially after her poking it. You can barely concentrate on your task, but somehow you manage to push through.

She turns back around to face you. “Only the harness left. Do you think you can make it?”

She reaches inside the corset to adjust her breasts. Your gaze wanders towards them. You bite your lip as you watch her gloved hand fondle her breast, cupping it and pushing upwards. “Eyes up.”

You look up. The intensity with which she looks at you makes you shiver — it always does. With her, you always feel like you’ve nowhere to hide. It’s like she can see inside your soul, like she truly sees you — pathetic and shivering and naked — and she never averts her eyes.

“I can make it, Mistress.”

“Are you quite sure?” she asks, and her blue eyes twinkle, but her face is otherwise unreadable.

“I think so, Mistress.”

It hurts — badly — but you don’t want to give up now that you’re so close to making it.

“Wait here,” she says and walks out of the room. You watch her ass wiggle and her hips sway as she leaves.

The moment she exits the room, you squirm and press your thighs together as hard as you can. You don’t know how to feel — on one hand, it would be really hot if she made you pee your pants, and on the other, you don’t think you could handle the shame you’d feel. You like humiliation — but this? You’ve never done something like this before. You decide you’ll try your best to hold it in until she lets you go to the bathroom.

She returns quickly, carrying a big water bottle. She hands it to you. Your heart sinks into your stomach.

“Drink,” she says. “All of it.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

You start drinking, and she watches. It’s a big bottle, and you aren’t sure you can drink it all. You can feel your belly filling with water, and the pressure in your bladder is unbearable. You try to lower the bottle, pace yourself, but she tilts it and pushes it into your mouth.

“I said, all of it.”

She reaches under your shirt and grabs your hips. You’re still drinking. She gentle runs her gloved hands over your stomach — lightly, teasingly — then under your bra. You continue drinking until you finish the bottle as she fondles you, sending tingles down your spine.

“All done?” she asks, running her fingers over your ribs.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Give it to me.”

She takes the bottle and puts it on the little table next to the couch, then returns to you.

“You must be so uncomfortable,” she says, sliding her hands under your shirt again, putting one on the small of your back and the other on your bloated belly.

“Yes, Mistress.” You’re sure you can’t make it at this point. “How long… until I can go to the bathroom, Mistress?” you ask.

She gently massages your belly and you whimper. “Oh, but you could go right now, and it would all stop.”

“But I can’t, I’m too embarrassed.”

“And what if I commanded you to go, hm? You wouldn’t disobey me, would you?” she asks, circling around you as she caresses your stomach, until she’s behind you and pressing her body into yours. She leans down and you feel her hot breath on your ear. You whimper.

“I can’t, Mistress, please, I—”

She grabs your neck from behind you, her gloved hand pressing against your windpipe. “Do not give me attitude.”

Suddenly, she grabs your hips and presses her fingers into your pelvis. You gasp and your muscles give in — and the next thing you know warm liquid is trickling down your thigh. Horrified, you watch a dark, wet spot form on your trousers.

Jane lets go of your waist and walks to stand in front of you as you continue to stare at your crotch, deep shame colouring your cheeks red. You can’t help but gasp in relief as the painful pressure bladder finally subsides, which makes you even more embarrassed. You hide your face into your hands and press your thighs together. It just keeps going — you have’t peed all day. You feel it trickle down your calves and onto your feet until it pools on the floor. Tears of shame prickle in your eyes.

“Look at me,” Jane says. You slowly lower your hands and clutch your shirt, breathing deeply and trying not to cry. You look at her. She’s standing a few feet away from you, watching you, her gaze as intense as ever. “Don’t avert your eyes.”

You watch her, tears streaming down your face, your underwear, your trousers and your socks uncomfortably wet, as she walks towards the couch and takes the harness. She puts it on, but it takes a while. You just stand there — embarrassed, blushing, crying and wet.

You aren’t wet just from your own piss, however.

Something about the humiliation makes you incredibly aroused, and Jane knows it — oh, she knows it well. She knew it from the first night you talked — you didn’t even have to tell her — and she pushes you, always pushes you just a bit further than the last time.

She walks back towards you, now clad in the elaborate harness that hugs her neck, her waist, her arms and her thighs, black leather belts crisscrossing. She looks like your dirtiest fantasy.

“Kneel,” she says.

You kneel into the puddle of your own piss, wetting your trousers even further.

You look up at her. As she isn’t wearing any underwear, your gaze wanders to her pussy — it looks pink and delicious and absolutely delectable. You wonder if she’s command you to eat her out, and you shiver in anticipation, heat pooling in your belly.

She lifts her leg and puts her heeled foot onto your shoulder. “Since you’re already so filthy,” she says, “it’ll make no difference if you’re even filthier.”

You stare at her pink, slick folds and your mouth waters. “Tilt your head back. Look me in the eyes,” she says. You do as you’re told and you meet her gaze. She watches you, her lips parted and her eyes dark with lust.

You gasp when warm liquid hits your chest. You feel her piss slowly wet your shirt and your bra and drip down your stomach into your underwear. She keeps eye contact the entire time. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she says. “Filthy girl.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you whimper, cheeks red, chest heaving.

“Nasty, dirty girl,” she says, her voice deep and thick with lust. “I bet your pussy is all wet, hm?”

“Yes, Mistress,” you breathe out. She looks like a goddess, looking down upon you. Your mind feels fuzzy and you feel as light as a feather. You’d do anything she asked of you right now. You just want to serve her.

She removes her foot from your shoulder, and you barely notice that the heel dug into your flesh — you only feel a sort of a euphoria.

“Stay on the floor and touch yourself. You can come.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you say and immediately slip your hand into your soaked underwear.

“Sit down, ass on the floor.”

You do as she tells you and sit down in the puddle of piss. Your trousers immediately soak through on your ass, but you don’t care.

She looks down on you as you start rubbing your clit. “Look at you. Nasty girl. You like sitting in your own filth, hm?”

“Yes, Mistress,” you moan, rubbing your clit faster.

“No wonder you need me to guide you. You can’t do anything yourself except rub your pussy like a bitch in heat.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you whine. You’re already getting close. “Ah, Mistress, you’re so good to me.”

“I’m too good to you. Nasty girls such as yourself only deserve a firm hand.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper. You slip your fingers inside of your dripping cunt and start pumping your them in and out — but your trousers are in the way, and you quickly unzip them and pull them down your thighs along with your underwear, and you’re now sitting bare in a pool of piss. You spread your legs as far as you can as you continue to fuck yourself, hitting your clit with your palm every time you pump your fingers into your aching pussy.

“Look at you — so desperate. I don’t even have to touch you for you to fall apart. Such a dirty fucking slut.”

“Ah — yes, yes, Mistress,” you whine. You’re so close.

“Look me in the eyes when you come. I want you to know who you belong to — every orgasm you have is mine, do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Mistress, ah—” you breathe out as your eyes meet her icy blue ones.

“Come for me,” she says, her voice cold and stern and uncompromising as she watches you, her gaze baring your soul. You are unable to hide from her — she is witnessing you at your lowest, in a puddle of piss rutting against your hand like an animal, and yet she never averts her gaze. She disarms you, renders you unable to do anything other than obey. You belong to her.

And you love it.

You keep eye contact as your orgasm washes over you, fast and hard and intense. For you, for you, it’s for you, you think as ecstasy overwhelms you and the only thing you’re aware of are her blue eyes, watching you, judging you and absolving you at the same time. You keep fucking yourself through the aftershocks, mumbling, “I’m yours, Mistress, it’s for you,” as you slowly come down from your high, unsure if anything you say is intelligible.

She is silent — she waits for you to come to your senses.

A wave of shame hits you as soon as the orgasmic euphoria is gone. Tears pool in your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You want to hide your face in your hands or your shirt, but you’re covered in piss and it disgusts you. “I’m disgusting,” you cry, tears blurring your vision. You can’t look her in the eye.

“You aren’t,” she says as she takes off her gloves, and you want to believe her, but you can’t.

You cry and you cry, and she helps you clean up. You shower together, and she wordlessly holds you while you cry, and then helps you put on clean spare clothes that you keep at her place for occasions such as this one. You cry some more, and she caresses your hair and lets you cling to her.

She isn’t a very gentle woman — you learned that quickly — but there is something about her presence that comforts you. You feel safe around her. She says few words, but they are picked carefully — and she won’t argue with the mean voices in your head. She says what she means exactly once.

“I’m glad you trusted me with this,” she says as she bids you goodbye at the door. You say nothing — you just hug her. She tenses up, not expecting it, but then she relaxes and hugs you tighter. She smells like citrus shower gel, and you know you do too. You look forward to lying in your bed tonight smelling like her.

“See you next week, Jane,” you murmur into her chest. She pulls back and kisses your forehead — a rare show of affection.

“Take care,” she says.

As you walk back home, you feel pleasantly light.

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @opheliauniverse @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgay @gwenslucifer @weemswife @zephyr-is-tired @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @alexusonfire @larissaoftarthweems @a-queen-and-her-throne @bikergurl5 @salems-spaghettios @theflashesoflove @catechristiesstuff @vendocrap8008 @billiedeansbitch @coffeemelko @lilfartbox1 @softshrimpy @amateurwritescm @daydream-cement @kaymariesworld

#kink!week #7 days of kink #jane murdstone #jane murdstone x reader #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it #gwendoline christie

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inevitably-johnlocked · 29 days

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hello hello! I was wondering if you had any winged aus tucked away? the latest post I could find (though goodness knows tumblr’s search feature is iffy) was from 2019 and I was curious about an updated list if it isn’t too much trouble!

Hey Lovely!

You are correct, it's been a LONG time since I've put a new list together... I don't have any new personal recs (been a LONG time since I've read them), so what I'm going to do is do a tag search on my MFL list and put together a nice fresh list of fics suggested to me by you guys! Please note that I have NOT read any of the fics on this list so I'm probably wrong somewhere, LOL. They're not ALL winglock, for sure, but if anyone has anything relevant that they can add to this list, please do! Enjoy!

WINGLOCK / ANGELS / DEMONS Pt. 2 (MFLs)

See also:

Winglock / Angels / Demons (Updated Apr 2022)

Sherlock x Good Omens Crossovers (Updated Apr 2022)

The Detective and the Demon by oreganotea (G, 2,389 w., 1 Ch. || Supernatural Elements || Pre-Slash, Urban Fantasy, Demons, Humour, Friendship) – “Every demon on record is described as either monstrously terrifying or breathtakingly beautiful,” Sherlock says. “I have never heard of a demon with a forgettable face and a propensity for ugly jumpers.” The demon looks down at his jumper. Okay, so it might not be the most flattering article of clothing in the world, but it sure looks a hell of a lot more comfortable than Sherlock’s two-sizes-too-small shirt.

The Babadook by CatieBrie (T, 6,886 w., 1 Ch. || Babadook Fusion || Post-TRF, Horror, Demonic Possession, Violence, Halloween, Grief, Angst with Happy Ending) – “A children’s book,” John mutters as he flips it open. The pages are scrawled with beautiful charcoal lines and thick black ink. The cover, bright red, edges the open pages and something tugs at the back of John’s brain. It’s a familiar feeling, black and tarrish and thick in his thoughts. He shakes it off and picks the book up off his bed, turning so that he can sit on the edge and spread the book out across his knees. If it’s in a word or it’s in a look, you can’t get rid of the Babadook. He turns the page, ignoring the pressure building beneath his chest. There’s a closet on one page; paper doors meant to be opened by the reader flutter as John reads the text on the other page.

In The Arms Of The Angel by Watermelonsmellinfellon (M, 8,585 w., 3 Ch. || Fallen Angel AU || Friendship, Angels/Wings, BAMF John, Trust, Fluff, Romance, Eventual Happy Ending) – The human population possesses the ability to grow feathers from their spines, but less than even five million at a time ever actually grow any. A feather for a life. Every life saved, earned a feather. The feathers would overlap each other, until there was finally enough to create a wing and if some were lucky, two wings.

The Soldier And The Demon by LipstickDaddy (G, 8,998 w., 6 Ch. || Victorian / Demon AU || Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Soldier John, Demon Sherlock, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Protective Sherlock, Happy Ending) – Johnlock/Kuroshitsuji AU - 1879. Captain John H Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers is dying from a near-fatal gunshot wound in the Kandahar desert; until a demon saves his life. There’s a catch, though; one day, his saviour will eat his soul.

You Don't Need Wings to Fly by Laiquilasse (T, 11,326 w., 11 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Bullying, Angels, Suicidal Ideation, Christmas) – John, an angel, is sent from Heaven to help a desperate Sherlock Holmes by showing him what life would have been like if he had never existed.

Tattered by SrebrnaFH (M, 15,857 w., 6 Ch. || Winglock || Family, Childhood, Society, Abuse, Electricity, Hurt John / Sherlock, Protective John, No Smut, Bullying, Sudden Relationship Change) – John visits Baker Street without any warning and gets an eyeful.

On Feathers and Bacon Sandwiches by Kryptaria(T, 21,092 w., 8 Ch. || Winglock AU || Demon John, Asexual Sherlock) – No one has ever stayed with Sherlock longer than a month. At least, no human. Fortunately, John Watson isn't about to let the little things - like biohazardous experiments and the constant threat of danger - get in the way of his friendship with a very special, very brilliant man like Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Feathers 'verse

The 13th Book by meet_me_in_samarra (T, 24,491 w., 13 Ch. || Magical Realism Winglock AU || Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Witty Banter, Interspecies Bromance, Demon Sherlock) – Summoning a demon was actually quite simple if you could avoid getting killed in the process. Therefore, only the powerful, the desperate or the stupid would attempt it. John Watson was likely the first, definitely the second but hopefully not one of the third kind.

This Is Family by SaraStarchild (T, 39,840 w., 16 Ch. || Hereditary AU || Psychological Horror, Body Horror, Demonic Possession, POV Third Person Limited, Protective Mycroft, Cults, Mycroft Whump, Sherlock Whump, Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Retelling) – When the Holmes family's secretive mother and matriarch, Ellen Holmes, passes away, the family she leaves behind – father Martin, sons Mycroft and Sherlock, and daughter Eurus – begins to unravel cryptic and increasingly terrifying secrets about their ancestry. The more they discover, the more they find themselves trying to outrun the sinister fate they seem to have inherited. This is, pretty much, a word-for-word retelling of the 2018 Ari Aster film, Hereditary. Part 1 of Sherlock Halloween Stories

Though the brightest fell by BeMyGoldfish (M, 41,243 w., 7 Ch. || Celestial AU || Post THoB, Soulmates, Guardian Angels, Demons, Mystrade, Background Johnlock) – In his office, Mycroft (the Archangel) tries to recruit Greg (the ‘ex-angel’ mortal) on a celestial mission to save Sherlock from what he wants most. "This is some elaborate joke cooked up by your brother as revenge for me not asking him to help on the Islington Exsanguinations, isn't it? How did he get you in on it, Mycroft? Did he hide your trouser press? Or threaten to expose your secret ciggie habit to your mum? This isn't funny. It's weird and obscure, but it is not funny.”

Trapped by Gem_Gem & harrylee94 (M, 41,311 w., 3 Ch. || Demon John AU || Demon John, Mild Gore, POV Sherlock, Mild Homophobic Language, Kiss, Bonding) – During his most recent case, Sherlock finds himself in the hands of the very people he had been trying to pursue. This mistake lands him in a cell, already occupied by a strange man who calls himself John. But who is John? And why does he look so... hungry? Part 3 of the Bonded by Words Stories series

Murderous Imprint by MojoFlower (E, 52,634 w., 24 Ch. || Winglock || Organ Theft, Imprinting, First Kiss / Time, Whump, Torture, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Case Fic, Magical Realism) – Sherlock should be focusing on the series of brutal vivisections Lestrade has brought to him. Instead he's distracted by a most amazing and unexpected experimental opportunity from the basement apartment of 221C. Will he figure out the one in time to stop the other? And does he need help in order to do it? Part 1 of the Hatch series

Not English But Angels by orphan_account (E, 203,251 w., 15 Ch. || Twisted Canon, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Minor Character Death) – A sort-of canon, sort-of AU fic in which I twist and supplement canon to weave it into a new story in which Sherlock and John come from different worlds and nothing is quite what it seems.

WORKS IN PROGRESS

The Posthumous Game by S_IRIS (E, 58,695+ w., 12/19 Ch. || WiP || Supernatural Elements AU || S4 Fix It, Crack, Humour, Fluff, Demonic Possession, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss/Time, Sherlock Whump, Hurt Comfort, Hallucinations) – A Season 4 fix-it fic where Jim Moriarty really is dead but comes back as a demon to haunt Sherlock. The only problem is Jim is a total newbie at demonic possession so he tries to make-do and ends up making Johnlock happen. Only, it doesn’t happen the way you’d think.

Hellfire by HarleysCompass (E, 66,660+ w., 19/? Ch. || WiP || Fallen Angel AU || Biblical References, BAMF John, Sexual Content, Fallen Angel John) – In 1880 Dr. John H. Watson dies on foreign soil. The next thing he knows he's wandering the planes of Heaven. After betraying God, John is cast out, employed by the devil, and protecting a sociopath of a human with a penchant for trouble and pissing off Angels.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #winglock fics #angels and demons #supernatural fics #magical realism fics #my fic recs #marked for later fics #wip fics

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iamamythologicalcreature · 4 months

Text

Six Sentence Sunday/Creative Proof of Life

Thanks for the tags, @alexalexinii, @shrekgogurt, and @that-disabled-princess!

This WIP post is basically a proof of life statement. I can't believe it's been over a month since I posted Chapter 1 of the Haunting of Simon Snow. I'm so overdue for chapter 2, BUT... instead I finished writing the rough draft. I've been attempting to outline, because when I rough a draft, I really rough it up. Ahem.

So I have been working on it, even if there is zero evidence on AO3 as of yet.

How about some sentences? I haven't sliced up chapters yet, so not sure if this is from chapter two or three, but here's a snippet of Simon on the phone with Penny expressing some smooshy sentiments:

I curl up on the couch a bit more, maneuvering myself so my wings aren’t crushed. “I went flying last night,” I confess then, in quiet tones. Like someone might hear me. “You— Oh, but… You can’t! What if someone sees you?” I can actually hear her biting her lip. She wants to spell my problems away, and she can’t. “But I can,” I say, smiling a bit more. “There’s no one around for acres. No one will even willingly drive here on account of the house being haunted. It’s empty. And I’m flying at night.” I say flying in the present tense and realize I fully intend to fly again tonight.

Penny huffs. Her specialty. “I don’t like it.” “I do,” I say easily, warming up to explaining, hoping she’ll understand. “It’s so freeing, Pen. Like the weight of the world can’t hold me down, anymore. I feel… It’s like… It’s like I’m closer to the stars. Like I’m close to stirring up the milky way.” I let out a sigh, my eyes closing as I drop my head back, indulging in that recent memory. “I don’t hate it as much, when I’m up there. You know?” There’s a few seconds of silence, and I open my eyes again. “Pen?” “Hate what?” she asks quietly.

(just in case you were worried I wouldn't be including angst...)

Bit more info on my progress (maybe some whinging) and tags and hellos below the cut!

Fun facts about my ineffecient writing process:

I spent more than one or two hours clearing asterisks from my rough draft this morning. (Because discord has trained me to do *this* when I write instead of this.) Because I'm trying to listen to my draft via screen readers, but it keeps sounding like "asterisk-impossible-star-fuck me" (that's my favorite one honestly, it's supposed to read "Impossible. Fuck me.") which is really annoying (more often than amusing). ANYWAY… what this has revealed to me is that I use "Fuck" a lot, as well as "So good." Ahem. Take from that what you will.

BTW, I'm sure there's an easier way to do that than manually. Please don't tell me for at least a few days, or I might lose it. I am but a mortal being, with a tattered heart and patience worn thin. (Or something.)

OKAY. It's been awhile since I did one of these posts. Time really flies. Gonna give this list my best shot, but as always, open to any who want to participate! (Also adding some new names in for the new year so this is sort of my "Gee I hope this is cool with you" super long tag list. If you'd rather not be tagged, just drop me a missive to that effect!)

@leithillustration @prettygoododds @rimeswithpurple @artsyunderstudy @blackberrysummerblog @hushed-chorus @nightimedreamersworld @best--dress @whatevertheweather @ileadacharmedlife @scribble-tier @imagineacoolusername @brilla-brilla-estrellita @alleycat0306 @angelsfalling16 @fatalfangirl @erzbethluna @tender-ministrations @anxious-m3ss @ebbpettier @bubble-gumhead @facewithoutheart @bazzybelle @theimpossibledemon @aristocratic-otter @mooncello @cutestkilla @annabellelux @ic3-que3n @j-nipper-95 @letraspal @messofthejess @onepintobean @palimpsessed @raenestee @supercutedinosaurs @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @wellbelesbian @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @youarenevertooold @bookish-bogwitch @martsonmars @orange-peony @mostlymaudlin @stardustasincocaine @confused-bi-queer

Lastly, quick note/question. Tumblr seems to be remiss in informing me when I've been tagged in other posts. Is this a common issue?

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dragonrider9905 · 2 months

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If you could get to know and/or write with another writer (or more) who would it be?

Hi Anon!!!!!

Thank you SO much for the ask!!!!! This is such a fun one, and I appreciate you thought to send it my way!!!!!

Hoooooo boi, there are SO many cool people on here and AO3, I hope I get them all because SO many people deserve an honorable mention at least. There are also many artists who'd I'd be honored to have work collaborated with.

*Quick disclaimer, I may not tag everyone because I work long hours so if I've forgotten you, it isn't intentional, my brain is just stupid. So I shall begin!!!!

First and foremost, my dear writing friend @eclec-tech. She is literally the coolest. Her stories?!?!?!? Some of the best AU and OCs I've ever read. I will love and ship Tech/Phee, but Miran Threst has first place in my heart for Tech (even over my own OC!) She's read a lot of my work, encouraged me so much in the beginning of my time writing and even now when I get very disheartened with my progress. She's the reason I'm here on Tumblr! Her stories are just so cool. And she's a cool person.

Of course there is my bestie @photogirl894 🥰she shares my innate love for Hunter and the Bad Batch. Her ideas are SO fun and she's so fun to chat with. I've read a lot of her work before we met and I fangirled from a distance til she invited me to chat. I'm still so in awe of just talking to her, it'd be a dream to write something with her.

@apocalyp-tech-a is a moot I'd love to get to know more. Her work is freakn amazing!!!!! I know we share a love of many things, especially poetry. Her things never disappoint. Her Tech anthologies blow me away. She's so sweet and humble too.

@lizartgurl (or @jedipoodoo) I hold in awe for her medieval Batchers. I'd love to get to know her a bit more and I'D BE SO DOWN to write something with her sometime. Goodness, Hunter is beautiful on his own but BAM medieval Hunter? Just made him so much more so. She's been an inspiration to me and my own writing.

@arctrooper69 is SOOOO fun to work with!!!! She wrote "As Iron Sharpens Iron" and asked me to beta read. IT'S SO FREAKN FUN to work with her as we add fine details to her already freakn amazing story! (seriously folks, go check it out)

@carolinetano7567 has some amazing stuff I've loved seeing on here and I know we share a love of the Batch and Wingfeather! It'd be fun to collaborate someday.

@trapezequeen is such a fun presence on here too. We've discussed story ideas and it's always so fun!!!!!

Quick break to shoutout people I don't know if they're on here or not -- my great friend who I write "Hunter's Stress Journal" with, Ghost Cookie, SlimTech, Yazstar, kaydear, Cuthian, and a few other Ao3 authors I majorly fangirl over their works.

@ghostofskywalker has so many fun ideas and so many cool works and is always so sweet when I submit requests. I'm always awestruck by the work. Not to mention all the cool exchanges Ghost puts together? Those are always so much fun and so cool to participate in.

Of course there's dear @masterjedilenaaa, one of the first writers I discovered in fanfiction. I am always awestruck by the amount of detail and fine work done in all of the requests I've submitted. I think I'd faint if she'd ask me to collab.

@ladysongmaster is SUCH a cool person!!!!!! and all of the amazing stories she writes?!?!?!?! pleeeeeeease colllabing with her would be mindblowing!!!!!!

I'd love to get to know @moonstrider9904 more. I've seen a lot of her posts and she's so fun to interact with!!!!!

@klmwrites has so many different, COOOOL, like freakn cool, ideas. All of the ones I've read have left me at the edge of my seat, needing, wanting more. To work with someone so amazing and creative?!?!?! I think I'd just be too awestruck.

I have to have at least an honorable mention for @techs-stitches and @ovaa-bi-bia. They've been SO supportive of me in the past. I don't know if they write, but I love seeing their posts and getting to know them.

@frostycatblr-fandom-files is a favorite pop up of mine too. I love seeing the artwork and the stories!!!!!!! Collabing would be fun!!!!

@imabeautifulbutterfly is such an amazing, sweet, person!!!!! And the creativity?!?!?!?! the beauty with which she writes?!?!?! I would LOVE to collaborate with her. She's been a beautiful soul and a great friend <3 She might be last on the list but CERTAINLY not the least!!!! <3

Gee, I know there are more, but like my disclaimer earlier stated, my brain isn't at full steam.

So in short...a lot of people XD Thanks for taking the time to read my long winded response :) and for asking!!!! 🥰❤️

#dragonrider9905 answers #so many amazing people here it's hard to choose #it's like picking your favorite child #you can't

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millersdjarin · 1 year

Text

I Only See Daylight

Chapter Four

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E (eventually)

Chapter warnings/tags: slow burn, dad!din, bonding, injuries (not in detail), negative self-talk, mentions of past trauma/abuse

Chapter Length: 4.2k

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist & Info

notes: im sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the others! if it's any consolation, a few of the chapters in this fic are 10k, so there's that. :) i've set a posting schedule of mondays and thursdays, but this week i'm posting on sunday because i'm going to be travelling on monday and i have to stay off tumblr to avoid tlou spoilers until the evening. so, surprise :)

i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw you

“How do you feel?” Is the first thing you hear when you wake, rolling over on your makeshift bed to find Mando standing at the cave entrance again. He’s leaning against the wall with one shoulder, his hip cocked out, one leg bent casually.

Kriffing hells, how is he so attractive when all you can see of him is his posture and his impossibly shiny armour?

You force the thought from your mind, blaming it on your half-asleep state.

“I don’t know yet,” you answer with a grimace. It’s been two days since your fall. The pain is better, though the rest of your body feels stiff now, muscle soreness finally catching up with you after the tumble. There hasn’t been another storm, at least, so Mando has managed to hunt for every meal so far. He goes out to get water every morning, filling canteens to the brim. He makes you drink so much that sometimes it feels like you’re swimming in it. “Hydration helps with healing,” he says every time, even though you already know; he says it just to counter your playful glaring at him every time he hands you the flask.

“Sun rose not that long ago,” he cranes his neck to gaze up at the sky, “if you’re feeling up to it, we can probably travel today.”

You manage to sit up, but the minute you do, pain shoots down from the wound on your calf and into your ankle. It circles there around the joint and throbs. “Have we got any more ice packs?”

“One more,” Mando answers as he heads right over to his medpack and gets it out.

“We should ration it,” you hold out your hand to stop him activating it. “For when we’re travelling. I’ll probably need it.”

He looks down at the pack, hesitates. Then nods and puts it away. “Do you think you’ll be okay to travel today? If so, we should move soon, make the most of the daylight.”

Shifting a little, you try to get a gage on your body, how it feels. A grimace makes its way onto your face without your consent. Everything hurts. Literally everything. Muscles you didn’t even know you had are strained and stiff.

But you’ve been here for two days. He’s been stranded here for four.

“If the answer is anything but yes,” his voice cuts through your rapidly declining thoughts, “then my answer is no.”

Relieved, you smile. But you protest, “Mando, you’ve stayed with me so long now. I can make my own way back.”

“No,” he says definitively. “We move when you’re ready.”

You relax, settling back against the wall. You’re too sore to argue.

“The kid’s enjoying the vacation, anyway,” Mando says, the lilt of a smile in his voice.

As if summoned, Grogu steps forward from his little bed at the back of the cave. He yawns, his tiny mouth opening as wide as it can go, his eyes screwing shut.

Oh, Maker, he is adorable.

“You take time off a lot?” You ask with a wry smile as Mando scoops the kid up into his arms.

The huff of a laugh comes through his helmet. “Not really.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Mando tickles Grogu’s cheek, earning a little giggle.

You watch them. There’s that warmth again, creeping its way between your ribs, around your heart.

You have to look away.

All three of you are starting to get a little stir crazy by the time the night comes around.

You’re feeling better, though. Mando’s hydration obsession is working to help loosen out your stiff muscles. It doesn’t help, though, that you have to keep getting up every hour to pee. Especially because you have to tell Mando every time nature calls, which is, admittedly, rather humiliating—it shouldn’t be, it’s fucking natural, but he’s Mando and he’s been making you feel a certain way, and you don’t want to have to admit to this terrifying yet comforting man that you have to piss. It’s even worse that he has to help you hobble outside, then walk away while you do your business, and come back and pretend to not notice the puddle sinking into the ground.

It’s demoralising. Your cheeks are tired from flushing red all the time.

But he insists on you drinking enough, even when you protest.

“I don’t mind doing this, you know,” he says as the sun sets, an arm around you as you hobble to the designated Nature Area.

“Yes, you do,” you grumble, kind of just wanting the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“I don’t,” he insists. “It’s fine. Besides, it’s good to move a little.”

“A little? Mando, it’s every hour, on the hour, at this point.”

The unfamiliar sound of a soft laugh comes through his helmet. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it sounded fond. But you’ve never heard a laugh like that. So. “It’s good. Just call me back when you’re ready.”

He never comes back until you call, no matter how long it takes you.

It isn’t lost on you, either, that you never would have been able to do this on your own. You’d have had to piss where you sat. Which seems like a worse concept than just ruining your leg, and subsequent mobility, forever by forcing yourself to walk home.

As darkness approaches, Mando takes his flashlight—yours is long dead by now—and puts it in the far end of the cave. He stays over there, rustling in his pack for something. Curious, you watch, wondering what he’s doing; he angles the light strangely, propping it up with a few stray rocks on the ground, and then fishes out a small piece of canvas, pulled from what remained of your tent. He puts it over the flashlight, folds it once.

Then, the light is softer. Diffused around the cave.

Grogu, who is sitting against the wall playing with a little silver ball, looks up at the newly-lit cave walls and laughs in glee.

“You like it, kid?” Mando asks him.

The kid claps his hands together, gazing around. Mando laughs softly and sits back down beside the kid, watching him.

You’re watching Mando. It’s impossible not to, with the soft light reflecting from his armour in a new way, casting new highlights and shadows across every curve and edge. You wonder what places he’s been, how he’d look in all kinds of light. Harsh, bright, sunshine of a bright summer’s day, the dark ashy colour beneath rain clouds.

“Mando?” You find yourself saying.

He looks up at you, one hand holding the kid.

“Tell me about somewhere else you’ve been,” you request. “Please?”

“Where do you want to hear about?”

“Anywhere. First place that comes to mind.”

For a second, he’s quiet, just looking at you. Considering. When he speaks, he doesn’t say what you expected him to, and his voice is softer than it should be. “You really want to travel, don’t you?”

And, okay.

That hits a nerve.

You look away, blinking. It’s clear that you’ve tensed, that something has made you uncomfortable; and you expect him to backtrack, to apologise, but he just waits. So patient, like he wouldn’t mind if you didn’t say anything, or even if you just told him to fuck right off. You wish you could see his face, decipher his expression. Match it to the soft curiosity of his lovely voice.

“Yeah,” you manage on a shaky breath, imagining yourself up there, in the vastness of space, free to explore the Galaxy. “Yeah, I do.”

Quiet again. He’s giving you space.

You take it, let it sink in.

Then, his voice is there again, “So why don’t you?”

And if that isn’t a question and a half. “It’s, uh,” you clear your throat. You’re about to say it’s complicated. But that doesn’t even cover the half of it. Instead, feeling a cold, familiar dread slowly creeping through your veins, you say, “I like it here.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he looks at you still, some kind of unexplainable patience coming from his dark visor.

It’s unclear if he can hear the omission of the truth.

You don’t want to lie to him.

You’re sitting here, in a cave that he so beautifully lit as best he can, on top of a bed that he made just for you to be comfortable, after he’s helped you pee about twelve times a day for the last two days. He’s been nothing but kind.

And it’s not that you feel like you owe him answers because of that. Nor, in fact, that you think he feels you owe him answers. His quiet, unassuming patience in the dim intimacy of this cave is proof enough of that.

No, it’s not that.

It’s that you’ve been alone for so long. You’ve never said this to anyone.

And after all this, once you’re back at your hut and you’ve fixed his ship together, he’s going to leave. And you’re never going to see him again, anyway.

So.

“Truthfully,” you say, “as much as I like it here, it’s not where I’d choose to be. If I had another choice.”

Instead of staying still and silent, he starts to nod. His gaze is unwavering, solid and stable, weaving its way into the tension and uncertainty beneath your skin, soothing it.

Grogu gets up and waddles over to you. He climbs clumsily into your lap.

Then, with a quick look to Grogu, Mando says, “I understand.”

And that, those simple words, make something release in your chest.

The weight of your confession doesn’t feel as heavy as you’d expected. In fact, it feels like something has lifted in the air between the three of you. Like even the kid understands.

Well.

This is new.

As the third morning in the cave rolls around, you wake up feeling much better.

Once you’ve relieved your always-full bladder, you tell Mando as much, staggering back into the cave and to your bed. “You can stop over-watering me now,” you tease as he lets you back against the wall, gentle. Your hands are on the backs of his arms, and slide all the way down them as he moves away. You wish you could linger there, and the way he moves so slowly, his visor gazing down into your sleepy eyes, makes you think that he wishes that, too.

As your palms brush against his wrists, he seems to catch himself. He pulls away quickly and turns to distract himself with the kid.

“So, you’re ready to travel?” He asks.

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply, staring at him from behind. He has a nice behind. (And you need to stop. Immediately.)

“You can lean on me. We’ll take it slow, I promise.”

Kriff, say that again… “I’ll be alright. You’ve got enough to carry.”

He looks at you again. “I’m leaving the parts here,” he says, like that should be obvious.

“What?” You frown. “But your ship…”

“Once we find our way back, and you’re safe, I’ll come back for them.”

“Mando, I can manage. Seriously, we should take the parts. You’ve been here long enough.”

The helmet tilts. “You trying to get rid of me?” It would concern you, if the teasing in his tone wasn’t arousingly obvious.

You just about manage to recover from the stirring in your belly, and you laugh, “Totally. Sick of you already.”

The kid, standing beside him, looks at you and makes a sad noise. His ears turn down towards the ground.

Kriff. “Hey, I’m just kidding,” you assure him with a smile. As a peace offering, you reach your hands out to him, and he relaxes in an instant, immediately plodding over to you and climbing into your lap. You hold him, give him a quick hug, then just let him sit there. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m actually gonna miss you,” you whisper into his ear. He coos happily, tugging at a loose thread on your coat.

When you look up, Mando is, of course, staring at you. This time, you know for sure that it’s at both you and the kid.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothing,” he answers after a moment of hesitation. “I’m going to pack up. Then we can move. You okay to sit with the kid?”

“You know I am,” you smile, and watch as Mando nods and heads outside.

That pang in your chest is back. Well, you’re not sure when it turned from a slow warmth into a pang.

But it’s there. Too obvious to ignore.

For a few miles, you manage pretty well. It took some convincing, but you got Mando to agree to taking the parts along with him in the end. You do lean on him, but only when moving over particularly rough terrain, fallen logs, or exposed tree roots.

“How we doing?” Mando asks at around noon.

“Fine,” you say, feeling a little breathless.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. We can stop soon for a break.”

Another hour passes, your ankle is starting to throb, and you’re really fucking glad that you saved that ice pack for this exact moment.

Mando sits you down on a fallen log, keeping his arm around you until you’re properly seated, lingering just a little too long for you to tame the way it makes your heart beat wildly. To feel the heat of him through his flight suit, your hands and arms pressed to parts of him not covered by armour, just the soft parts; it’s a lot. When you first saw him, this wall of metal, you never thought you’d see any further than that. Kriff, you never even thought he’d get closer to your hut than he was when you had your blaster pointed at him.

Maybe that would have been best. Because if he’d just left, if there was another way for him to get the help he needed, you wouldn’t be thinking about him the way you are right now.

The softness of the crook of his elbow, the curve of his waist and hip. The warmth of his skin that you have yet to see an inch of. All of the weapons strapped to him, so close to you, close enough that if it were anyone else, you’d be scared.

But it’s Mando.

This might be the least scared you’ve been in a lifetime.

He cracks the ice pack to activate it, then kneels down in front of you. Reaching out to grab a smaller log, he places it under your ankle, elevates your leg slightly. Then his gloved fingers tug at the hem of your trousers. “Can I?” He asks.

Kriff. You nod, unable to form words.

The rough-yet-smoothness of the gloves is all you feel at first, brushing delicately against your skin as he lifts your trousers, then unlaces your boots, gently pulling them off, followed by your socks. Your ankle is more swollen than it had been this morning, but you’d expected that.

And, besides, that is not what you’re thinking about right now.

Instead your mind can only focus on the softness of his hold under your foot, the gentle way he places the ice pack on top of it. The heat of his hand starts to come through. You wish it was his bare skin. Wish you knew what his skin is like. Is it calloused, or soft from always protecting them? Does he have scars? Is the hair on his arms dark, light, a thin covering or thicker, perfect to run your fingers through—

His hands are gone before you realise it. It takes your glitching mind a second to catch up.

You chase him with your eyes, silently wishing for him to come back.

But then.

Then.

As he turns away, he reaches for the flask in his satchel. You watch his hands lift to his helmet, take a gentle hold of the base of it. At first you panic, thinking he’s about to remove his helmet, no you don’t have to do that it’s okay—

But he just lifts it the tiniest bit, such a small movement that you only know it has been lifted because he puts the rim of his flask to his lips and takes a sip.

You can’t see his skin, not a hint of it. But you can hear him drinking, hear the water against his lips, the gentle gulps as he swallows.

And the way it entrances you, takes you away from the forest and the pain of your ankle and the fact that this is so not appropriate for you to be thinking—yeah, it’s probably for the best that he can’t ever show his face to you.

You look away before he even lowers the helmet again.

Maybe the worst part about all this is that you’re starting to dread Mando and the kid leaving.

That’s not how this was supposed to go, not how any of this was supposed to play out. You helped him because it was the right thing to do, because it’s exactly what They would tell you not to do, because your life has been the same every single fucking day since you got here.

But that’s been fine. It’s been safe.

“Pass me that wrench?” Mando asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You pass him it, noting the tilt of his helmet in a wordless ‘thanks’ before he turns back to his job. He’s up on a ladder, leaning against the ship’s exterior wall with one of the panels fully off, fixing something to do with the foundation for the body.

His ship is bigger than you’d expected. He tells you that it’s bigger than his old ship, the Razor Crest, but only by a little. “It’s a similar shape,” he’d said, “but it has two bunks and more space. For the kid.” He has a star fighter too, apparently, docked at some other base off-world with a friend of his. It’s funny to imagine him with friends, though you’re not sure why. Especially because, since getting to know him the last few days, you know how generous he is. How kind, helpful. Gentle, despite everything.

Why wouldn’t he have friends?

Beneath him, you sit on a crate and lean against the ship, waiting for him to give you more instructions. The engine has been mostly fixed now, as much as it’s ever going to be out here in the middle of nowhere using scrounged-up parts. He’s just getting the last of the body work done, enough to make sure it’s aerodynamically sound.

It’s interesting, watching him work. You ask a lot of questions, and every time you do, you expect a frustrated sigh or an exasperated response. But he answers every question thoroughly, and it doesn’t even distract him from his work.

The sun is warm against your face. The afternoon of Mando’s fifth day on this planet is drawing to a close, fading into the evening. As the sky turns to duller shades of blue, tinted with oranges and pinks, you can’t help but admire the way he looks beneath the light. His armour is always the same, always so distinctive, yet it reflects different lights in different ways. Sometimes it makes the beskar appear darker, like a gun metal grey. Other times it’s a bright silver. Then there are times like this, when it goes with the colour of the sky, reflects the beauty of everything surrounding him.

You think back to the light in the cave, how that looked different still. The urge to see the Galaxy comes over you again, though this time it’s not staring at his ship and dreaming about taking off in it that does it; this time, it’s wondering what he looks like in even more places, more environments. Does the metal get hot in the sunshine? Or is it always as cool as it’s been when you’ve had the chance to feel it before?

The kid is sitting on the ground in front of you. There’s a beetle scuttling around in the mud, and Grogu is toying with it, blocking it off when it runs one way, then doing the same when it runs the other. You wonder if he’s going to eat it, or if he’s just having fun by being cruel to the little six-legged creature.

“Don’t play with your food,” Mando says to him, answering your silent question.

Grogu looks up at him. His ears turn downwards, sulking. Mando ignores his obvious pleas to change his mind, turning back to his work. When Grogu looks back at the beetle, he only just catches it before it runs off, and instead of toying with it anymore, he just shoves it in his mouth with a loud crunch.

You find yourself smiling at him. He smiles back, ears lifting again.

“Alright,” Mando starts to step down from the ladder. You reach out and hold one of the ladder’s legs, knowing he probably doesn’t need you to, but still not wanting to risk it. Ladders make you nervous. “Think that’s the best we’re going to get.”

You look up to the ship. He’s fixed the panel back on again. Now all that remains is the burnt metal from his “interesting landing”, with some bends in it, exposing little sections of the framework beneath. It’s definitely a patchwork job. But it looks better than it did when you got here this morning. So.

“How’s your leg?” He asks as he folds up the ladder.

“Good,” you answer. It’s stretched out in front of you, propped on another crate. “Ship looks good.”

With a resigned sigh, he puts his hand on his hips, and tilts his helmet to look up at his handiwork. “No, she doesn’t. But she’ll do.” Then he looks back to you, “I couldn’t have fixed it without your help. Thank you.”

You shift under his gaze, unable to help it. Every time he looks at you it feels like his eyes can see right through you, and the part that makes you uncomfortable is that it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Self-conscious and disgustingly aware of your own inappropriate, lustful thoughts? Yes. Uncomfortable? No. You don’t think it ever could.

“Of course,” you say eventually. “And, hey, I’ve got a scar to remember our little adventure by, huh?”

He laughs softly. You see the shake of his chest as the chuckle comes through his modulator. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“Hm, no. But there’s no gift shop around here. So.”

He shakes his head, and you imagine, hope, that he’s smiling under all that beskar. He certainly looks casual, a hand on one hip, one leg relaxed while his weight rests on the other.

“Do you always stare so much?” You find yourself asking with a teasing, daring quirk of your brow.

“Yes.”

“At everyone, or just me?”

He pauses. Your heart rate spikes briefly as you wait for his response to your terrible excuse for flirting. “At everyone,” he answers eventually, and disappointment starts to set in before he says, “But it’s harder to look away from you.”

Oh.

The disappointment quickly shifts to nervousness, heart beating fast again as you clench your hands in your lap. He just stands there, staring despite the awkward and loaded silence between you, and stares. As if he’s making his point by offering an example.

You look away. Suddenly, your cheeks are hot. “You hungry?” You find yourself asking.

He pauses again, then nods. “Yes.”

“I’ll make us some dinner. You just come back to the hut whenever you’re ready.” It’s only as you stand to hobble back home that you realise he might not want that. You swivel back around to face him, backtrack, “I mean, unless you want to eat out here. Your ship’s fixed now, I guess you can—you can stay in that? You don’t have to come back with me. I’ll be okay.”

Again, getting more and more infuriating with each silence he lets stretch out, he just stares. Kriffing hells, does he ever stop!?

“Would you let me cook for you?” He asks, finally.

You weren’t expecting that.

Shifting weight to your good leg, you raise your eyebrows. “You want to cook me dinner?”

He nods once. “Yes. To thank you for all your help. And as a farewell.”

You’ve been trying your hardest not to think about that part. It sits in your stomach, cold and dreadful and confusing, too far down for you to swallow it. “Alright,” you agree with a soft smile. “I can’t promise I’ve got any decent ingredients, though. You might have to perform a miracle.”

“I’m up to the challenge,” he says, hooking his thumb over the belt around his hips. You’re distracted by it, finding your eyes sliding down to his middle before you catch yourself and look back up. The tilt of his helmet suggests he might have seen your gaze shift. “I’ll walk back with you. Just give me a minute.”

You can’t find a reason to refuse.

♡ updates posted Mondays and Thursdays ♡

notes: thank you for reading! all interactions are appreciated as always, but comments and reblogs especially fuel my need for validation ❤️ as always, the title and lyrics at the start are from taylor swift's "daylight"

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