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1800titz · 28 days

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The vacay piece I teased ages ago. One night stand :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, oral, brief size kink (if you squint), praise kink, this one’s p vanilla.

WC: 2.5K

It starts like this:

A bohemian beach with a high riding tide, where ripples surge and flood the shore. Sand tears from its home, coasting the verge in the breeze like a fog under the overcast, and when the clouds split open, the rays hug her skin.

She’s sprawled over a chaise lounge in a little red thing that’s all skimp and no cover besides the intimates. When she rolls onto her side and tips to her tummy, he eyes the flash of skin behind dark tint. His arms brace over the porcelain border of the pool that overlooks the beach up ahead — he’s watchful from a distance. Someone swims up to the bar behind him. Chlorine laps at his back, teeming over the grout between the tiles as he wraps his lips over a straw and nurses something cobalt and strong.

By the time he culls a second one, she’s up, all glistening skin in the sunshine, hips swaying as her toes make doughy prints in the sand. She trails to the sea, and the ocean eats her until she’s just a little silhouette in front of his sunglasses with water-slicked hair and lines that cinch and swell in all the right places.

He sees her like that, outlying his bubble, in brief pieces like the flashes of skin. Fragments in the horizon, like the border of a stranger’s leg in the background of a photograph. He sees her in slivers where eyes interlock from across the room and linger. This bohemian summer is painted in teal, and it’s waves swathing the coast, warm skin coated in cocoa butter.

It ends on a night where the teal metamorphose indigo, and then nearly denim, with orange on cords, glinting like miniaturized, splintered orbs of the sun have been caught to glare forever on strings in the night. Harry sees her through that indigo, this stranger’s bare leg waltzing in the depths of his touristy snapshot, mingling in the dancing horde. He trails closer, shouldering through the throng and squeezing through in polite gaps, and she twists like it’s fate — just enough to smuggle a glimpse in her peripherals.

Eventually, Harry leans in to murmur, “What are you drinking?”

The plush of his mouth ghosts over the cartilage there, and his cadence smooths over like honey, low and deep over the pounding bass of the music. Waned tobacco and spice; a warm, pleasant musk in the flurry of scents.

She doesn’t immediately respond, observant like she’s weighing whether the invitation is worth entertaining. It only takes a second. Then, there’s a hand over his pec, like she’s already made friends with the filth of his intentions. His red-lycra-skimp mystique rolls up on her toes.

Harry twists his head just enough for her to respond, “It’s a Blue Lagoon.”

Saccharine — rich and lux and smooth, something that has her skin glowy and sweeps up her throat, tucks behind her ear, enough so that the scent billows off with the motion of her hair as she flips it over her shoulder.

Harry casts his gaze to the drink. A red straw is tucked into the ice, and the only remnants of the beverage mingle at the bottom. The ice shimmers in faded teal, much like water sloshing over the flat tides. Her fingers cradle over the cup, and that’s where soft, thin lines of gold coil. Despite the broad array, there’s no wedding band.

“Can I grab you another?”

That’s when she does the thing; this patently flirtatious, brazenly get-under-my-crocheted-midi-skirt sort of thing, lashes coy in their sweep and eyes innocuous as the tips of her manicured fingers pinch at the straw and siphon it to her mouth. There’s an elegant presentation to the polish — neat, short lines with a nude base and a white tip.

The remnants of the beverage vanish until all that’s left is crushed ice painted with blue curaçao. Harry watches the straw. He watches her lips, the way they unlatch and the way the pink tip of her tongue offers a glimpse before it hides away behind her front teeth.

When she pulls the drink away, she tips her head — an inclination for his ear again — and when he ducks his chin for her answer, she tells him, “Can you make it worth my time?”

A tongue swipes — his — like it’s already hungry and yearning. Dimples form beside the curling edges of a mouth after the pink muscle retreats. Home in its hungry cavern; limitlessly craving. He doesn’t bother going for her ear again, instead opting to fix eyes that have wandered, all week, onto her face. Definitive, close. Mesh of saccharine and spice.

“I’ll make it worth your time,” Harry assures.

His eyes are virid, even in the indigo, under all the miniature suns as the lanterns throw them back into a roll of blue — it climbs over the crowd and seeps with the music. They’re virid and intent. They’re virid, and there’s something lewd that dances in the mottled talc.

She watches him. A set of eyes flits to his mouth and stays, brief like a fragment. She nudges the cup — the fragment splinters and fades — extending it against his chest until he raises his hand and his ring clad digits curl over it slowly, wet with condensation.

“Blue Lagoon,” sweet mystique reminds him, a little curl to her mouth.

Harry heads to the bar. He orders a Blue Lagoon and refreshes his tequila. Double. He winds through the half-clad crowd, prodding and slipping through sweat-slicked bodies until he finds her again.

He makes it worth her while when they’re dancing, when her arms are slung over his shoulders and the tips of her fingers graze at the little curls at his nape, like an intimacy beyond a summer fling, or maybe like a restless hunger — its touches only test the waters with dips of toes under lapping ripples. He makes it worth her while when his hand cups the meat of her hip, and she tips her head up for their mouths to meet, when their dancing slows and the kiss turns feverish, cushiony mouths teasing at the seams until they split.

He makes it worth her time when they make the stroll back to his room, heels clicking over tile and bouncing off from lofty wall to lofty wall, a good bit of distance between them strictly for the sake of avoiding shagging in the middle of a hallway. He makes it worth her while when he braces his wrist band to the lock over the door, when she’s leant against the wall with her irises lingering on him and her lashes batting coyly. She’s well-behaved, hands tucked behind her back like a combat to handsy temptation.

It’s a different story behind the door.

He makes it worth her while when her fingers toy at her crocheted halter, index perusing at the fabric below cleavage and brushing over chalky yarn. He makes it worth her time when he steps into her space all slow-like, face tipped down and the pink below his cupid’s bow worked into a soft curve, lengthy, deft digits working over the buttons of his shirt. An untamed tendril teases over one of his brows. Her hands meander from fondling at her own tits, at rogue pieces of yarn in the stitches, to straying up his ink-etched forearms. That’s when he lets her take over the work, when his arms snake over the vale of her waist. When his colossal hands cup lower, when he nudges forward and their mouths brush again. He licks into her mouth and rolls into the gap between her teeth.

Filthy kisses are shrouded behind closed doors, even in the easy ambience of a resort. Furlough on the greedy pursuit of pleasure, on some secluded island with crystalline waters, plus tequila — that’s practically a petri dish for hook up culture. But filthy kisses are saved for the bedroom, and there it’s taste buds doused in citrus limon and gray goose, a tip of a tongue swiping along a row of teeth, basking in the ridges.

“What do you like, little minx?” Harry murmurs. He climbs the column of her throat with the ruddy border of a hungry cavern, and her pulse murmurs back under his mouth. “Hm?”

The blunt tip of his forefinger traces her collarbone, follows a line of cleavage, toys at the cinch in her top; unravels her. It splits down the center, and the straps follow limply down her shoulders. Harry pinches a nipple and scrapes his teeth over her neck, humming again.

Behind closed doors, his red-lycra-mystique (bare, her tits are bare now, in the backdrop of his picture) gets denuded to flesh when she shimmies the dress down her hips. He helps her and then tears his own shirt over his head. It’s hasty, like disrobing takes too much time from a place where time moves slower, riding the water in leisure. Harry still doesn’t know her name, and she slips to her knees, batting her lashes, and takes his buckle apart like unslotting puts the last of the puzzle pieces together.

When her tongue rides under the ridge of his tip, delving and dragging over the prominent vein jutting on the underside of his shaft, he cranes his neck back and makes a sound like she’s torn into his chest with the tips of her french-polished manicure. He punctuates every pornographic, wet sound with dialogue.

“Christ, you’re a dream.”

“Fuck, you’re pretty with cock in your mouth.”

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that, sweetheart.”

“—Y/N,” red-lycra-mystique supplies, gaze bouncing from the twist of her wrists at his base to his face, and then sweeps his bubbling head over her bottom lip and swallows him down halfway.

“Y/N,” Harry mirrors, tone bathed in the same sweetness she radiates at his feet.

And then she trails the very tips of her blunt nails up his sac, and the shiver that rolls up his spine short-circuits every feasible attempt of formulating something in english. Just… gone. Something splinters.

Harry doesn’t cum all over her tongue, despite the pretty mental image he’d cherish of Y/N on her knees with ribbons of silky white coating the insides of her mouth. He thinks about the way he’d dip the pad of his thumb against her tongue, the way he’d stir and scrub it in. He thinks about her lips latching and her cheeks hollowing.

He’s got immense willpower, particularly when she takes him all the way down until her nose nearly brushes the neatly-trimmed tuft of hair the tributary of his happy trail pools into. Because then, she pulls off, chin sloppy with saliva, mouth wide, and stares up at him with this wickedly indelicate curl to the corners of her mouth as she gasps in breaths. Like she wants him to.

Instead, they make it to the bed. He splits her thighs with his palms and spits where she’s puffy and warm, leaky with longing, toying at the seam of her hole with his digits. Smooths the wetness with his thumb when he tucks two fingers in and laves his tongue at the crease between her inner thigh and her cunt. He bumps her clit with the tip and rolls, and her spine arches like the highest point of her torso peaks at the clouds of nirvana.

“You’re a good girl,” Harry tells her, and his voice is so soft, like he’s reassuring an animal that’s backed itself into a corner, “Want you to drench my face.”

And she does, because when he holds a placid, unwavering hand out and talks her so sweetly, lips suckling in a vacuumed ‘o’ between her thighs, what can she do besides roll her hips against his mouth in little, desperate juts, face creased before bliss spumes through every major artery.

When Harry sits back, his chin is sticky, glinting in the buttery cast of the lanterns drilled into the ceiling. He kisses her again until her jaw is stained with her own slick, and despite the entire basis of a one night stand, his tongue meddles into her mouth with the same passion of a man carving a piece of her open. A cozy lacuna just for him in the depths of her chest, something that’ll linger and yearn. A hungry chasm that’ll grumble when her cunt pulses — when he’s not there to fill it. She’ll think of him; a stranger’s leg flitting like a passing speck in the background of her photograph.

Y/N’s cunt hugs him like it can’t get enough.

Eventually.

Because at first, it’s: too big, won’t fit, pleated brows when he’d split her spongy walls apart on the latex-coated tip, stretching to tuck in and hovering to imbibe in miniature ticks of her expression. A twitch in her lashes, a shift in the line of her mouth, a little swallow bobbing down the column of her throat.

“You’re a good girl,” he’d crooned, smoothing a thumb over a rib and then her clit, just to see her squirm more over his cock.

Eventually, she clambers over his lap, planting her palms back over inky, firm muscle. It’s leverage as she bounces to fill that starving cavity — the one he’d drilled with his tongue, like the shape of him can fill every square inch of space before they never see each other again. Hungry, hungry, hungry.

“Come on, baby, come on,” Harry coaxes, a low groan mottled with breathy pants, “—Shit.”

Momentarily, he pauses the guiding grasp he’s got over her hips to drag the pad of his thumb over his tongue lewdly, smearing spit over the digit and swiping circles over her clit, instead. In response, the rolling pace Y/N has set stutters, knees jolting, and her mussed hair spills off her shoulder as she cranes her neck back.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Yes, yes, yes—“

His eyes flit from her cunt to the ethereal line of her neck, the borders of her shoulders, the shape of her tits bouncing.

Ultimately, of course, his gaze winds back down to ogle where they connect, because that’s the view — that’s where she swallows his cock, thighs splayed and trembling, gliding from the tip until about midway before rising and repeating the cycle. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. He draws his thumb lower, lets it meddle where they merge, where her hole flutters and rolls over him, gleaning the sticky arousal that coats his shaft and bringing the pad of it back to her clit. His eyes linger. Flicker up. Return to watch her ride and nearly roll back into his head.

He’s carved the void, and later, when she tips forward and her nails scrape over his pecs, feral, she whittles her own. Later, the space between his thighs aches and heats. Something pulses on the underside of his balls. It yearns for blue curaçao, pellucid, crashing waters, and a skimpy red bikini.

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles one shots #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader

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palindrome-alt · 5 months

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Digital Stars on The Wall

|| Kieran x Reader ||

Your new dorm room in Blueberry Academy is outfitted with all sorts of futuristic technology. You still haven't wrapped fully your head around the fact that you're physically stranded in the middle of the ocean in a giant submerged dome, but hey, whatever they did to make these screens, the night sky looks almost how it'd be if you were camping out in the wild on a cool night.

||Mild Spoilers for the Indigo Disk DLC!||

Everything about Blueberry Academy feels like it came out of a separate, futuristic world. The chromatic metal that never corrodes, the blue... substance, that flows through the artificial veins in the walls and keeps the place running... Out in the middle of the ocean, it's sort of like the whole megalithic building itself is somehow... alive.

Despite that, there's no electrical interference, no static hiss at the back of your ears as you rest your head against the artificial glass sky displayed on the 'window'. How the director managed to even design the illusion of depth in these screens is beyond you, but instead of square pixels, gentle pinpricks hang above you in the false distance. The fact that they aren't plastered flat to a screen is a mini engineering marvel in itself despite the slightly visible panels if you look closely. Hand shifting out from underneath deep blue sheets, you run your palm over smooth, slightly grooved glass. It feels like touching a bunch of small bathroom tiles, and though you logically know that there's really only a deep dark ocean stretched out for miles, you almost forget just how far you are from the home you've carved out in Paldea. You're still somewhat scared of the scientists of this world. Somehow, you don't remember civilization being this... technologically advanced. Cool air blows through the vents above you, tasting nothing of the slightly salty expanse of water above. With their filtration systems, this might be some of the cleanest air you've ever breathed. It's sterile, much less handmade and aged than your dorm room back in Mesagoza. But somehow, this place has started to feel so comfortable, as if it weren't ever foreign in the first place. The sound of rustling next to you shakes you out of your thoughts, and you shift back onto your back to get a closer look at Kieran, who you almost forgot was there.

He's stiff as a board, his arms folded on top of his chest, his eyes wide and staring straight at the ceiling. Aside from his shoes, he's still wearing his full school uniform, and his hair has only just started to slip from the tie he's put it up in. He popped in rather unexpectedly, and must not've thought you'd let him stay, so he didn't think to change into more comfortable clothes. Small frazzled black bunches drape onto the extra pillow you pulled from the closet, and the off-color purple no longer remains the dominant color.

You shift again, this time gaining his attention by curling against his side and nuzzling into the mattress a little more. He stiffens under the touch, but you can feel his sharp eyes flicker from the ceiling to you, a little more of an edge to him than before that he might not ever let go of.

You don't move, and he must think you're asleep with how you catch his eyelashes gently lulling, spine slowly losing its tension. He must be so sore from all the clenching he's been doing, if not from how he's been pushing himself up until recently. The events that transpired between you are probably still haunting him, even now. With a fresh set of new skin-deep scars, you know it has to be hard on him. Up until last week, it wasn't even certain if you were both still friends. He sighs beside you, head sinking into his pillow. Unclasping his hands, he slowly reaches over, testing the waters. He hesitates, looking conflicted over whatever thoughts are running through his head. Whatever he was going to do, he must've decided otherwise as his hand drops just short of you.

His eyebrows furrow, pupils dilating a little when they land on yours. "S-Sorry." He flinches away, shifting his gaze. You don't say anything, but the following silence between you isn't entirely comfortable like before. Inhaling deeply, he stiffens back up a little, pretending to look around the room though his focus is still on you. He can't seem to pay attention to anything else right now.

He's been so consumed with thoughts of you for so long that he's a little scared that he can't be normal about it. You can't know that. He tries forcing his eyes shut. He won't be getting any sleep tonight.

#x reader #pokemon #reader insert #pokemon x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #scarlet and violet #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokémon scarvio #pokemon fanfiction #platonic #dlc #pokemon dlc #obsessive behavior #pokemon kieran #kieran x reader

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justblades · 1 year

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⌕ QUARTET'S TUNES, 18+

⟢ DAY 4 OF SPECIAL 2K EVENT — your boyfriend suffers from erectile dysfunction . . . he thinks of a solution to treat it, by having you preyed on by his two olden friends

⟢ CHARACTERS : blade, dan heng & jing yuan x afab!reader WC : 1.8k

⟢ WARNINGS : (EX)PLICIT, MDNI. 4some, manhandling, degrading, multiple penetration, aphrodisiacs, spitting, dacryphilia, filming, cuckolding.

utopia - a place you never thought you'd attain from your mere hands alone whenever feelings of loneliness creep up to your soul, pulling you back to square one with weight heavy in one foot. not until you crossed paths with a certain individual who appeared too cold than he may seem, his aura exudes of a gelid ice and a chilly gust of wind all at the same.

threads of fate are adamantine, each strand, each fiber shows a dedicated ending for every single being. although not halfway done, you've come to learn dan heng's sharp corners and the varying slopes of his soul. how he likes for things to be done, how he prefers to bask in solitude when those moments come. that he is not indeed cold like how he is usually perceived. as a way to delve deeper in the ocean of his depths, your vulnerable self mooring at dan heng's byline with your name written on it - it felt as if it was meant to be.

amidst the countless times he buried his seed deep into your walls, in spite of the scratch marks besmirching his pale, supple skin, there came a time he was unable to do it with you anymore. of course, sex isn't everything but it sends a pang of pain for dan heng more as he hungers for your body day by day; wanting to relive those lustful moments again, feeling each others' sweat mix with juices of arousal coating your thighs and dan heng's fingers.

and finally, he reached his limit. perhaps all he needed is some good old pushing buttons for his erection to switch back on. he contacts two olden friends, at this point, one was a mortal enemy and the other an archaic comrade. it was an eccentric situation that no one has ever experienced before. having your lover banged by two acquaintances right before your naked eyes is not an idea someone sane is capable of thinking of. perhaps it's the hunger burning dan heng's patience and blind hope that made him resort to these methods. as much as he longed, the twice you yearned.

a red tie slithers against your wrists, pinned above your head with a final twist to finish the binding. a makeshift of kinky shackles, a tantalizing sight to grace your partner's vision as two tall men stood before your restrained stature. the silver haired at your left and the indigo head at your right. they were polar opposites for a boastful smile plays on jing yuan's lips while the former appeared to have a scornful look imprinted on his.

nonetheless, jing yuan starts it with a white circular pill nestled on his wet tongue, stuck out just enough for you to see. "let's treat your lover's dysfunction then." he says as his sultry lips crash onto yours with fervor, eyes shut, fingertips trailing from your chin on the way to the back of your head, lolling you closer to him than before.

your tongues tangle in sync, taking turns as you begin to feel more of his liquids pour onto your mouth like a small cup, overflowing, escaping past your margins that reached to a point whereas you're drooling. a soft mewl comes undone, satisfying the general. the pill that slipped out of your mind travels way down to your system, its ingredients quickly pool inside your body waiting for its effects to manifest.

slightly glancing at the other male all the while you were being smothered by open mouthed kisses, "i'll take everything away from you." the remark stirs confusion, he sneers and proceeds to suckle on your neck's sweet spot. your body jolts at the unfamiliar sensation of an unknown's lips adorn your complexion, "i'll make you mine." his voice softens and it just all made sense.

dan heng feels his heartstrings rupture, jealousy seethes even though he may not show it. his brows lightly knit and focus at the matter in hand, he needs this - so he can finally revel in the delights of your body. jing yuan finally withdraws from your lips, sharing a gaze of lust and excitement with you. he only pauses for a moment and proceeds to scoot closer to your body, getting behind you as his arm lock around your neck, his lower clothing becoming tighter and more painful to bear.

this position felt rather embarrassing; you're exposed in front of your lover. the cherry on top of it was blade unbuckling his tan and jade green belt, slacks of grey shades quickly fall down to his feet - followed suit by another act of stripping, this time, it was you being undressed by him. he rips all of your clothes open, veins popping as he exerts minimalist strength: your body jerks in exchange as you get to feel his hot breath caress the plane of your chest.

jing yuan swiftly removes his too, cock springing free now at its full glory judging from how it twitches against your lower back, aching for some friction. struggling to keep sight of the two males preparing themselves to bathe in ecstasy with you, your body suddenly falls lethargic and the atmosphere's temperature felt rather parching.

"dan heng— make sure you watch all of this." jing yuan comments and lubricates your slit with a concoction of his streaming beads of arousal mixed with yours. muddy white sopping out of your folds, you were more than turned on, brought about by the drug you ingested earlier. you blink repetitiously once you start to feel something hard protrude your hole, it pulsates with desire and felt feverishly hot.

you gasp weakly, an opportunity for the other male to slip his dick in your mouth abruptly. "don't forget about me." he bucks his pelvis forward, forcing you to bob your head up and down; not giving you enough time to adjust and grow accustomed to his immense size. blade's scowl slowly ceases, eyes fixated how you react to being gagged by his cock.

jing yuan can feel a little competitive at times, a part of his playful nature. he thrusts into your cunt with ease thankful to the lube that most of your pussy provided, your velvet walls clamping around his girth. sloppy noises, mewls and grunts all bounce off the four walls of your own home. dan heng remains fixed on his place, his heart threatens to beat faster and faster, hearing your satisfied moans merited from anything other than his dick undoubtedly vexes him deep down.

it wasn't even enough of a foreplay earlier and it's just the beginning - yet your mind already starts to feel point blank, unable to grasp coherence and rationality the more you are stimulated by both the males simultaneously. unable to protest as blade's cock fills your mouth, prohibited to make any of the male stop as you were bound by the crimson string tied on your wrists.

jing yuan's guttural moans chime into your ears, bucking his hips in an animalistic speed while you got noticeably louder in mewls and squirms under the both of their touches. "i-i-" muffled by the constant bounce of blade's tip at the back of your throat, tears start to well up in your eyes, the depths reflecting the navy haired's face of satisfaction seeing you cry from how big he was.

"i was never aware you had a whore like this, dan heng. you're quite a lucky man, getting to see this any day you'd like." the male snidely remarks, sarcastically wiping your tears away with his bandaged hand. "weep for me more." he adds, a rivulet of his gathered spit drop down to your lips.

dan heng feels his trousers tighten all of a sudden. he glimpses down, seeing something indeed out of the ordinary. he was growing an erection, each rush of his blood to the flushed tip of his cock - he could feel everything course in his system. his breathing deepens, gunmetal eyes widened.

the silver haired doesn't let himself be outshined by his olden friend, "no can do. you'll sing for me more." he says and slows down his pace, only to give you long deep strokes of his as your walls continue to coil around him. it was a teasing act, but the thirst for more immediately gets quenched when he thrusts into you deeper than before, his balls lightly slap against the plush of your ass. you throw your head back, unknowingly seeking solace in jing yuan's broad shoulders while your mouth was still full of blade's girth.

you try to catch your breath with heavy pants, feeling sticky in every nook and cranny of your body. they were both being intense: more than what you could handle. dan heng never made you feel these sensations before, unsure if it's a good thing or not. whilst blade finally pulls his cock out— he clicks his tongue in annoyance and tangles his fingers on your hair, crouching down to your level. he looks you in the eyes piercing through your torpid ones, threatening to fall into a slumber anytime. suddenly, a hand stops him from handling you harshly any further, he looks up to see it was no other than a despised enemy. "you're finally back in action." a crease between dan heng's brows form, teeth gritting from how rough blade was towards you. well, what else did he expect? if you secretly liked it, then the male suppose there's nothing wrong happening.

"simmer down." blade comments as he finally removes the ties on your wrists, giving your arms leeway to rest at last. but it doesn't prolong as his calloused, veiny hands, guide your right hand to wrap around dan heng's throbbing cock while the free one was coiled around blade's. unable to register anything now, your body weight doubles down, feeling heavier than ever. something, however is amiss. pure bliss snakes up to your abdomen, feeling more desirous than ever— as it unfolds, your hands pump the two dicks on their own, granting you groans bubbling from both's mouths.

you were uncertain if this is what an aphrodisiac does to a person's consciousness. but then, with bleary vision, you make out the familiar object once again. this time, it was from blade's slick tongue twirling in your wet cavern, he was rough and deep, not leaving any corners unchecked with his tongue's tip.

again, it descends to your system, dissolving into glitters of substance that fuels your libido levels - willingly resuming to stroke two dicks while another one continuously ravage your walls, the general feeling himself catch the bliss of release anytime soon. "it's good to see you've finally recovered dan heng . . . but you have to know we won't be at your disposal the next time this happens and this is where my suggestion comes in."

the ebony haired struggles to whip his head to jing yuan's direction, a stifled satisfied expression carved on his face. "we should immortalize this." dan heng always understands jing yuan's point— and there they come into a quick agreement especially now that their cocks are twitching in unison, yearning for more. with a swift setting of a camera right in front of your lustful bodies, it starts to record every single detail unraveling as carnal desire inebriate the quartet.

they took turns in which who has the privilege to power piston into your cunt, while the other jacks himself off, letting his cum spring free in strings, embellishing your skin with numerous diagonals. another idea rises later on, putting it into action as two of them pleasure the both of your entrances, while the remaining person thrusts his cock deep inside your mouth once again. your body drifts into cloud nine, having three men thrill you with their own dicks at the same time wasn't so bad after all - and most importantly, your lover's dysfunction is finally treated.

more juices of orgasm sprawl out of your slit, pussy continues to spasm up to no end, knees trembling— how many times has it been since you came tonight? even the men themselves already lost count. all they're aware of is the four of you are having a good time, each male having their own charm that had your heart in a chokehold of lust.

my masterlist !

#jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader smut #honkai star rail x reader smut #jing yuan smut #blade smut #dan heng smut

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clockwayswrites · 8 months

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Like Betta Fish Do Part 25

WC: 3,537 Masterpost CW: Canon typical violence

“I can’t believe I’m in a custom suit,” Danny said as he admired himself in the mirror.

“It is really weird the first few times,” Jason agreed as he did up his own cufflinks.

Danny twisted so that the very faint blue on blue pattern sewn into the suit caught the light. It gave the impression of rolling waves. “So how many fish things did you manage to fit in?”

He watched the reflection to catch Jason’s lips tick up into a pleased smile.

“Well there’s the fabric itself, deep ocean blue.”

“And patterned like waves,” Danny finished. “I caught that.”

“Your shirt and tie are sea foam white.”

“Okay, that one might be a stretch,” Danny said, but he touched the fabric gently.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m counting it. The pocket square, very nontraditional, is a Japanese indigo linen in a pattern that is a historic representation of waves. The buttons are abalone, the cufflinks red coral, and the tie pin is mother of pearl.”

“Six, if I give you sea foam white.”

“You better, I worked hard on this. And it’s actually seven, one last thing,” Jason said. He picked up a blue velvet jewelry box off his side table and held it out.

Danny took it curiously. It was bigger than a ring box, but smaller than a necklace case. He brushed his thumb over the soft covering before he snapped the lid open. His breath caught.

Inside was a set of earrings. Simple silver studs for for his cartilage piercings, a pearl earring for his left ear, and then the show stopper: a crystal studded and delicate woven silver betta fish on a chain for his right ear. Its black pearl eyes were bright. They almost made it seem alive.

“Jason…”

“I tried to stay subtle with the rest, but this I couldn’t resist,” he said. “You’re my fish, and everyone at the gala should know that.”

Danny carefully closed the box before he flung his arms around Jason’s neck and pulled the other down for a kiss.

“Careful,” Jason murmured when the kiss broke, “if we show up late and mussed Tim will frown at us the whole night.”

“That would be a shame,” Danny whispered back before kissing Jason again.

“I can’t believe I’m being the voice of reason,” Jason said, “but you have to let me get dressed.”

“Fine,” Danny said, even if it made him want to pout. “Maybe… I can take it off after the gala then?”

The pink that Jason blushed was more than worth being bold and Danny took a moment to admire it before he turned to put in the earrings.

Behind him, Jason knotted a white (or sea foam, Danny supposed) tie and shrugged on a matching jacket. The suit looked bright, almost glowing, against the rich blue dress shirt that complimented Danny’s own suit. He couldn’t be sure what it was from this distance, but Danny thought he saw the glint of white on white embroidery on the cuffs and lapels of the suit. It was the silver fish bone tie pin that made him laugh.

“People are going to have questions.”

“Let them,” Jason said with a cheshire smile.

“I’m starting to get what going to a gala with you will be like,” Danny said.

“Oh, this is tame for me,” Jason said. “I’m behaving.”

“I know, it’s part of your charm.”

“If only the press thought that,” Jason said, grabbing his phone as it beeped. “That’s our car.”

“I wish we could just take your bike,” Danny said, watching Jason put his phone back down, “and our phones.”

“Suit lines. I’ve got a connection to the family,” Jason assured Danny.

“Still. But I guess those suit lines do really great things for your ass and it would be a shame to ruin that,” Danny agreed with a put upon sigh.

“You’re incorrigible tonight,”Jason said (not that he seemed to mind if his smirk was any hint).

“Maybe it’s just that new years mood,” Danny said with a little shrug, lacing their fingers together as they left. “This year turned out pretty great, and I bet next year is going to be even better.”

“Yeah? Any reason for that?”

“Well, I happened to move to a city that’s pretty weird but also pretty awesome,” Danny said.

“Good reason,” Jason agreed. “What else?”

“I’m finally in the degree for what I want to do, and I’m kicking ass at it.”

“Of course you are, you’re brilliant,” Jason said, holding the door open to the town car after he subtly checked the plates. “Nothing else?”

“Well,” Danny drew the word out as he slid into the car. “There’s this guy I met, maybe you know him? Tall, dark, and handsome?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t sound real,” Jason teased and leaned into Danny’s space.

Danny leaned up and pressed Jason into a light kiss. “He is pretty magical.”

“The red carpet, less than magical,” Danny said once they were through the sea of reporters and photographers. “I’m going to be seeing camera flashes for weeks.”

“Only a few hours at most,” Jason said.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, your whole being is just one blinding white blur,” Danny said, motioning at Jason, who laughed and caught Danny’s hand.

Jason pressed a quick kiss to the fingertips. The cameras went off in another round of flashes, apparently not having enough of the lost Wayne and his boyfriend. “Come on, let’s head further in away from this circus.”

“Is your family here yet?” Danny asked as they headed into the gala proper. Jason was skilled at keeping them moving without getting caught up by any one group, even as he greeted some of them.

“Bruce, Damian, and Duke arrived pretty on time so Bruce could greet people. Tim is around here somewhere too, networking I’m sure unless Bernard has distracted him. He’ll have arrived with Cass and Steph, who you haven’t met. Steph isn’t family, but she’s family, you know?”

“I think so?” Danny at least assume that meant she was in the Bat life.

“And Dick should be around here or will soon, likely with Barbie.”

“Barbie?” Danny took one of the drink glasses that Jason had snagged. The tart tang of cranberry bloomed across his tongue followed by the burn of alcohol and lingering taste of sugar. It was good.

“Yeah, but don’t call her that. Her name is Barbara, but she goes by Babs.”

“But you can get away with Barbie?”

“He was a very cute kid,” a voice behind them said. “Somehow he convinced me to let him.”

Danny spun and then had to look down to meet the gaze of the red headed woman in a wheelchair. He couldn’t help but feel a pang for Jazz, but it was softened by the fact that he’d get to see her soon.

“Bull,” Danny said with a smile, offering his hand. “I refuse to believe that Jason was ever not a little shit.”

“Oh, no, he was still a little shit,” Babs said, returning the handshake firmly. “But he was a cute little shit.”

Danny sighed dramatically and looked over at Jason. “Where did you go so wrong?”

“Hey, I believe it was you who were extolling the virtues of my ass in this suit not that long ago,” Jason said with just the hint of a pout.

“I think most of the press will be doing that too, so I’m not sure how much weight that has,” Babs said, painted lips ticked up in clear amusement.

Jason just sighed while Danny laughed.

“I like you, Babs. Is Babs okay for me to call you?”

“Of course, you’re Jason’s man, so you can call me Babs. And I really do prefer it to Barbara. The name is just a little old fashion, you know?”

“And you’re a modern kind of woman?” Danny asked with a smile.

“In so many ways,” Babs said. “But I better go make the rounds, or at least find where Dick is. He got distracted.”

“Isn't he always?” Jason said and bid Babs farewell.

“Are they together? Dick and Babs?” Danny ask as he watched her wheel away.

“Not anymore, but they were,” Jason explained. “They’re still really close. And Babs has been close to the family for a lot of years, so she’s special to all of us, you know? She’s a real inspiration to Cass and Steph.”

Oh, that sort of friend. “Wait, was she?”

“Yeah. So you know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Danny said. The wheelchair meant something a little differently now. He took a breath and looked around the gala, which was already swarming with beautiful, laughing people. He felt out of place without Babs’ friendly face distracting him.

“Come on, I bet we can find some family to talk too,” Jason said, taking Danny’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “There are a few people who I’ll need to hit up tonight for the Foundation stuff, you know, try to get some donations from them or build up the start of that, but you don’t have to hang with me during any of that. There's plenty of siblings around for you to chat with and use as a distraction. Hell, could always introduce you to Lucius or some of the other inventors we have and you all could talk nerd shop.”

“Nerd shop,” Danny repeated with a sigh. “You say Lucius who I’m going to assume is the Lucius Fox and call it nerd shop like that man is not out there breaking barriers and changing the world with his inventions? And that’s just the stuff that’s been announced to the public! Who knows what else he’s been doing behind closed doors! It must be mind blowing.”

“Well, thank you, but I have a lot of very smart people working for me, so it’s hardly just my work that’s out there making waves,” a silky voice said from behind them.

Danny spun and couldn’t help the little squeak he gave.

Jason chuckled and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Lucius, how are you doing? Did you manage to drag any of your family to tonight’s event?”

“Just my lovely wife. The rest found excuses, you know how it is.”

“I do. Sadly I’m in a position of note now,” Jason said, the words practically had air quotes around them, “so I’m afraid that my days of excuses are gone.”

“Oh, I’m sure that you can still find a few when you truly need them. You’ve always been mighty good at that.”

Jason just shrugged with an unrepentant grin. “Well, you know. But anyway, Lucius, this is my boyfriend Danny. Danny, this, as I guess you know from that sound you made, is Lucius Fox.”

“Of course I know. Really, sir, the work you and your teams have done… amazing.”

“Just Lucius, Danny,” the man said, reaching out to shake Danny’s hand. “If you’re dating Jason I expect that we’ll run into each other from time to time and I am too old for formalities like that.”

“Alright, just Lucius then. I can’t wait to tell my friend Tucker I met you.”

“Another one for, what was that you said Jason, ‘nerd shop talk’ like you are?”

“Totally. He’s in computer sciences, but he’s not bad at engineering some hardware when he needs to. Mostly to be able to get his software to run on, but I always make fun of his soldering.”

“So you must solder a lot then?”

“Yes s— er Lucius. Aerospace engineering, but I grew up always tinkering and things. I still do it some, but it’s harder here when I don’t have the space, you know? First dibs on tables and tools go to the other majors, which I get, since they need them more than us.”

“Still, hard not to be able to get your hands dirty when you want to. Are you going to be in Gotham for the summer? Not sure where you call home.”

“Well, at the moment, home is Gotham. I want to visit some friends and my sisters, but I’ll be here, yeah. I might take a summer course and get an advanced math knocked out or something.”

“A good plan. You should reach back out to me around early May then. I bet we can find a corner of one of the labs for you to at least use on the weekends when no one is around doing work much.”

“Really?” Danny said, hands twitching at just the idea of getting into a space where he could do some inventing. He had so many new ideas from his time at Gotham U on to improve some of his parent’s inventions or even make new things.

“Really. There will be the usual red tape and all, background checks and paper work and hours you’re allowed in, but those things can be worked out. Can’t keep a curious mind and skilled hands stagnant, now can we?”

“I know I can’t,” Danny said with a little laugh. “Thank you Lucius, really, I’ll definitely take advantage of that again. And start planning! I mean I have plans, of course I do, but a lot is just rough sketches, you know? I need to do some proper diagrams for a few things.”

He didn’t want to waste a moment once he had access to tools again— especially not the tools that were available to him at a place like Wayne Enterprises. Danny idly wondered if it would be out by summer that he knew about the Bats. Lucius had to be involved in that work and it would be so cool to take a look under the proverbial and the literal hood of those gadgets. Did they store the Batplane here?

Lucius chuckled and smiled. “Yes, I think you’ll fit right into that corner. You two boys behave now.”

“Never,” Jason said with a laugh and shook Lucius’ hand one more time as they parted ways.

The night turned into a slew of little meetings like that— people coming up to talk to Jason. Some of the conversations were enjoyable like with Babs and Lucius (Steph was overwhelming, but cool), some were with the many family members Jason had, and some were with the tpyical the socialite crowd. Those people seemed either to be there to get their claws in Jason or to observe Danny like he was some curiosity. Danny really could do without that type. Luckily, Jason seemed to know this, and Danny was passed off to Dick a few hours in and then freed to the food table after some teasing.

Really, even with the gawkers, the night was pretty fun.

“Hey Barbie, have you seen Danny recently?” Jason asked as he crossed her path at the party.

“No, but I’ve been talking tech. Have you tried over by the food?”

“That’s where I just came from,” Jason said with a little frown. These things were really too busy, one of the many reasons that he hated them. “I guess I’ll go try another sibling. Dick hadn’t seen him in a bit either, he got distracted by one of the people from the foundation that works with kids.”

“I keep waiting for him to join you there, you know. You could try Tim if he hasn’t been co-opted by Bernard yet,” she suggested. “How long has he been schmoozing?”

“Too long, Tim is worthless to me I’m sure. Cass would be—”

Jason dropped instinctively to cover Babs before he even registered the sound of shattering glass.

“Jason—”

The all to familiar muzzle of a gun pressed into the base of Jason’s head. “Turn around slowly. Try anything and I’ll shoot through you to get your lovely friend.”

Jason locked eyes with Babs, a thousand messages passed in that look as he slowly raised his hands and turned around.

It was one of the waiters.

Okay, it was a number of the waiters, Jason mentally corrected as he took in the room. Each of them with a gun pointed at some portion of the party. Jason spotted Bruce and Damian where they were being rounded up and Steph over on the edges of the room, but he couldn’t find Tim, Dick, or Cass on the quick glance at the space.

He snapped his focus back to the gunman at a popping sound. The man raised his left hand to his face and smeared the popped paint pellet across his face, coating half of it in a splotchy blue.

Guess they knew what Two Face was up to now. Speaking of the man of the hour, Two Face walked through the shadowed window, black and white suit spotless and fit for the event, and flanked by henchmen. He was clapping. Head tilted so that the bright lights caught his good side.

“Lovely event Bruice! Really, a shinning light in Gotham to ring in the new year. Don’t mind us, please, we’re just here to pick up the usual, jewels, watches, money clips, wire transfers. I’m afraid we need the extra funding…” He twitched, twisting so that the scarred side of his face was tilted forward. “Because the damn Bat made sure we lost it all! I’m hoping he shows tonight. I’d like to make sure he doesn’t make it to the new year!”

Dent cleared his throat; his right hand smoothed back his hair, tipping his head back the other way. “Sorry about that. Just some… linger resentment. You all know how it is. But let’s not get too serious yet! Brucie! And his adorable little spawn! Some of our guests of honor too! Behave if you don’t want to be shot in the head.”

Jason watched helplessly as Bruce, Damian, and several other social elite like the mayor were lashed together with rope. Two Face walked over after they were trussed and slapped a bomb to Bruce’s chest. While the the henchman secured it, Two Face turned to the crowd.

“Where is he? Our darling lost prince of Gotham?”

The gunman stuck the cold metal back to the base of Jason’s neck and pushed him forward.

The bomb started ticking down.

“There you are! When I heard you returned to us, my heart swelled, truly,” Dent said, looking up with his good eye as if praying to heaven. “And now! Now I hear you’ve found love!”

Dent bent over, cackling. The enlarged, yellow eye looked up at Jason from under the white bangs. “So let’s play a game while we count down to midnight.”

Two Face’s goons dramatically rolled out a podium. Two bright red buttons were mounted to it, right below a large television.

Danny was on the screen.

He was tied to a chair in some building’s basement. A bruise was already blooming to life around his right eye, deep blue as his suit. He had clearly caught a fist to the lip too. The fish earring was bright silver, catching light reflected from the pool of water that the chair was sat in.

“As you see, we’re giving your boyfriend some hospitality,” Dent said, smooth side of his face to Jason as he walked around the podium like some perverse Vanna White. “So you have a simple choice: decided what type of love is more important to you. Do you press the left button and save your boyfriend, letting your family and these other lovely people die to the bomb…”

He rounded the screen, scarred open eye starting at Jason accusingly. “…or do you press the button on the right and save the people in this room, but fry your boyfriend to death with electricity?”

Two Face snapped his fingers.

Danny’s head jerked up, unfocused eyes staring just to the right of the screen.

“Hey, dead boy,” Danny rasped. Just talking made the split on his lip crack and bleed again, adding another line of blood to his chin. On the screen the red was bright, bright, bright—

Jason clenched his hands. He was going to kill Two Face. “Hey, fish.”

“You know, the irony of this whole thing is that it does make me realize I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you.”

“Yeah? That's convenient. I've been in love with you for weeks.”

Dent cackled and motioned grandly at the trussed up people. The bright, bright red of the bombs’ timer counted down another tick. “Looks like you're all out of luck! True love always wins.”

He twisted to Jason with the scarred side of his face and growled, “Forty-five seconds left.”

“You know what you have to do, don't you?” Danny asked.

He was smiling at Jason, a soft calm thing. But Jason didn't know if he could trust it. He didn’t know Danny's limits. He didn’t know if this would kill him the rest of the way.

But he did know what Danny would never forgive him for. He knew he didn't really have a choice. “I do. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

Jason lunged and hit the right button. On the screen, the wires sparked bright with electricity, lighting up the pool of water. And Danny screamed.

And screamed.

The camera cut out.

---

AN: We're finally here! To the scene I wrote last year! Aaaaaah~

I would say I'm sorry, but this time I truly am not. (Please don't stab me.) ._.

It will be fiiiiiiiine... right?

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

634 notes · View notes

doormatty3 · 3 months

Text

Ocean Eyes: Chapter 5 (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You]

The ocean has always fascinated you - the ebb and flow of its water, the marine life in the sea and the wild and untamed beauty it exudes. Your attempts to explain this fascination have always fallen short. But when you meet Orm at the seaside one rainy day you find, that he just understands. You offer to show him around since he is not from the city. And you are intrigued by his rather strange quirks and his regal demeanour. After all, how could you not? When his eyes mirror the ocean itself, deep and incredibly blue. OR: You impress Orm with the surface world and he impresses you with his Atlantean cock

Wordcount: 4881

A/N: And so the smut starts. Also: I wrote this while both of my hospital roomies were snoring... HOW CAN ONE SLEEP

His response is immediate, as something seems to shortcircuit in Orm’s brain. A low growl escapes his throat, and he captures your lips in a hungry kiss before guiding you down onto the bed with a firm yet gentle push.

He swiftly follows, laying down on top of you, his weight supported by his strong arms.

You gaze up at Orm, your eyes tracing the contours of his features illuminated by a soft glow.

In the ambient light, his blonde hair appears to catch highlights, and his piercing blue eyes exude a magnetic intensity. They carry the depth and richness of the profound cobalt depths, a mesmerising blend of dark sapphire and hints of mysterious indigo.

As he leans over you, his shirt strains against the bulging muscles of his thick, muscular frame. The fabric clings tightly, highlighting every ridge and contour of his sculpted physique. The strained material accentuates the power in his broad shoulders and the well-defined muscles beneath, creating a visual display of strength.

Your breath comes out in heavy puffs as you feel the heat in your belly settling low and wetness pooling between your legs.

His darkened eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that speaks volumes. A low, almost inaudible mutter escapes his lips, a manifestation of the emotions coursing through him.

Before you can fully grasp the meaning, he leans down and kisses you deeply, igniting a new wave of desire.

You return the kiss with the same fervour, a mutual surrender to the emotions that swirl around you.

In the wake of the intense kiss, he becomes omnipresent - his broad, muscular body presses you into the mattress, his other hand trailing softly up your neck, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake.

Reaching up between your bodies, you slide your hands over his wide shoulders, the strength beneath your touch undeniable. With a subtle urgency, you push your hands into his hair, pulling him closer and pressing him harder against you in a silent plea for more.

Simultaneously, you both pull back, though your bodies remain tightly wound together. Panting slightly, you gaze into each other’s eyes, the shared intensity lingering in the charged space between you.

Before you can say anything, Orm presses his lips to yours once more, his tongue sliding over them with hunger. In response, you immediately open your mouth, allowing him to explore, and a quiet moan escapes you as the sudden storm of intensity from Orm envelops you.

His hands drop, gripping your waist with a possessive urgency. Thumbs slide along the band of the leggings you wear. The touch is both intimate and electric,

A shudder courses through you at the sensation of the slight skin-to-skin contact, and involuntarily, you unconsciously roll your hips. The friction of your movements against Orm’s firm touch sends a jolt of desire through your entire body.

Orm breaks the kiss momentarily, his lips lingering near yours as he breathes heavily, his gaze fixed on yours with a wild hunger.

He withdraws from you by a mere whisper, his warm blue eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“Please, no!” you whimper, caught in the magnetic pull of his intense gaze.

Orm smirks at your reaction, a confident expression that makes your insides turn to jelly. As he skillfully slides his dominant hand below the waist of your leggings, his eyes never leave yours.

The dim light casts a sensual glow on his chiselled features, accentuating the desire etched into every line of his face.

The touch of his hand sends a thrill through you, a delicate dance between urgency and tenderness - the fabric yields under his skilled touch, baring a fraction of your skin to the heated atmosphere.

As his fingers trace patterns along your skin, you can feel the heat intensifying.

His fingers, warm and skilful, find their way to the fabric of your underwear; the anticipation is electrifying, and you whimper.

As he leans in, his lips find yours again, capturing the moans that escape in the dance of desire.

When Orm ghosts his fingers over the front of your panties, you buck against him. You’re sure that he has to feel how completely soaked you are.

His eyes remain fixed on your face, an unwavering gaze that holds you captive. Despite the intensity of the moment, you find it impossible to look away from him.

Every nerve ending in your body feels alive, electrified by the intensity of the moment, and a low whine escapes your lips when he lets one thick finger glide over your clothed cunt again, nudging your clit in the process.

Amidst the whirlwind of desire and sensation, a subtle confusion creeps in. You find yourself perplexed by the stark shift in Orm’s demeanour - from the earlier image of someone somewhat distraught to the current manifestation of a feral intensity.

To you, it feels like this change may be a result of the revelation about his Atlantean identity - the burden of guarding his secret has lifted, and the freedom from having to make up excuses seems to have liberated a different, more unrestrained aspect of him.

A low, desperate moan escapes your chest when he dips below your panties for the first time. You cannot form a coherent thought as you feel one of his long, thick and warm fingers at your wet pussy.

In response, Orm lets out a groan and brings his free hand up, gripping your jaw possessively. His blonde hair, tousled from the intensity of the moment, frames his face, and his piercing blue eyes lock onto yours with a feral hunger. Before claiming your lips in a firm, hungry kiss, he captures your gaze, the play of desire evident in the depth of his oceanic eyes.

Orm’s voice undergoes a transformation, deepening into a raspy timbre that resonates with desire. “You feel that, don’t you?” he murmurs, his words carrying a magnetic weight.

His eyes hold yours when he flicks the pad of his finger against your clit, making you moan against him.

“I’ve wanted this, wanted you, for so long,” Orm confesses in that raspy voice. “Now that you know everything, it feels right.”

With that, he sinks one finger inside you. You clench your cunt involuntarily and mewl, and you didn’t know that just a single finger could feel so good.

“You’re beautiful,” he adds, his voice sincere and filled with raw honesty.

Orm begins to trace circles over your clit with his thumb while he pushes his other finger in and out of you. His eyes are firmly locked on your face, savouring your every reaction.

The whole situation overwhelms you, and you feel already close to an orgasm. Just the sheer attractiveness of Orm, his words, delivered in that deep, raspy voice, and the expert movement of his fingers are your undoing.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life - you may have had sex before, but this was on a different level.

You can’t contain a loud moan when he pushes a second finger inside you. The thick digits inside you make you already feel full, a pleasant stretch that makes you buck against him.

Orm starts to pump them in and out in confident, hard strokes and when he curls them just right, your hand finds his back, digging your fingernails into the muscle.

“Shit, Orm,” you whine, your voice breathless.

You feel the shiver of electricity coursing through your veins, and you know that you are close.

Desperate, you meet his thrusts with his hips, the wet sound of his fingers in your cunt obscenely loud in the room.

When he presses his body closer to you, grinding his hard cock against you, you come apart at his fingers. You clench down around them and cry out as your orgasm overwhelms you.

Orm doesn’t let up and continues to thrust leisurely into your pussy, ”Take it,” his voice, low and wrecked against your ear.

You whine as his movements gradually slow before he stills completely, pulling his fingers out of your cunt.

When he pulls back, you are both flushed and breathing heavily. You watch, mesmerised, as he raises his fingers, soaked in the wetness of your pussy, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

In the soft glow of the room, they catch the ambient light and glisten with a sheen of desire. Each curve and contour of his strong, calloused digits tells a silent tale of the intensity you’ve just experienced.

Orm, with a sultry and deliberate gaze locked onto you, brings his fingers to his mouth. He sensually sucks them clean, his eyes closing as if appreciating your taste.

The dim light accentuates the contours of his features, casting shadows that dance across his face as he indulges in this postlude of shared desire.

His blonde hair, tousled and damp with sweat, frames his forehead, creating a halo of dishevelled strands that hint at the fervent energy that just transpired.

Orm’s ocean-blue eyes, still glistening with the remnants of desire, meet yours in a playful exchange. The mischievous spark in his gaze reflects the shared intimacy you both experienced. Each droplet of sweat on his forehead seems to capture the ambient light, creating a radiant glow that adds to the allure of the moment.

“That was a first - I’ve never tasted a woman,” Orm states, his voice carrying a teasing undertone. His postlude comment is accompanied by a genuine chuckle, and you can see the happiness etched on his face.

As your brain basks in the post-passionate haze, you find yourself gazing at Orm with a contented, almost dreamy expression. A blissful emptiness fills your mind, leaving you momentarily speechless.

After a beat, you manage to form a question, your words tinged with a bashful blush, “Did you... um, like it?”

Orm’s eyes shine with contented happiness and a hint of feral satisfaction.

A triumphant and lopsided grin plays on his lips, reflecting the joy and fulfilment that courses through him.

In an unhurried approach, Orm leans in, his presence a magnetic force that draws you closer. As he nears, you can feel the warmth of his breath gently grazing your lips.

His eyes deepen in their intensity as he murmurs, “I loved it.” His words hang in the air like a promise, and before you can fully process the sentiment, his lips meet yours in another passionate kiss.

You sigh happily against Orm’s lips, your hands finding their place in the tousled strands of his hair and the muscular expanse of his shoulders.

As the kiss deepens, the world around you dissolves into a dreamlike haze, and the only reality is the warmth exchanged between you and Orm. His hands, firm yet gentle, trace patterns on your waist.

Orm breaks the kiss with a gentle stroke through your hair before gently pressing another short peck to your lips. With a soft smile, he gracefully stands up, his captivating ocean-blue eyes sparkling with contentment and his skin delightfully flushed.

He extends a hand towards you to help you up from the bed as well.

You accept his hand, and Orm’s fingers intertwine with yours, feeling the strength in his touch, and rise to your feet with a fluid grace.

As the warmth of the shared moment with Orm envelops you, a sudden realisation jolts you into awareness – Arthur is probably still patiently waiting in your living room. A blush creeps up your cheeks, and you break away from Orm’s gaze, feeling a mix of embarrassment and concern.

You clear your throat, “Uh, Orm, maybe we should, uh, check on Arthur. He’s been waiting, and, well, you know...He may have heard us .”

Orm’s ocean-blue eyes spark with amusement as he registers the change in your demeanour. A small, knowing smirk plays on his lips. “You’re right.”

Almost possessive, his hand wanders in your hair to tilt your head up before he says low and husky, “If he heard, then he at least knows you’re mine.”

Then, he pulls you into another bruising, needy kiss. He presses his thick frame against yours, making you feel the effect you have on him.

You whimper when he says that, momentarily stunned, before he grabs your hand again and leads you to the living room.

In the haze that still lingers within your mind, there are only three things you’re aware of as you marvel at how good Orm’s hand around yours feels again: Arthur may have heard you, both you and Orm appear sweaty and thoroughly wrecked, and Orm still has a massive erection tenting the front of his pants.

As you open the door, the living room reveals an emptiness that catches you by surprise – Arthur isn’t there anymore. A flicker of concern crosses your face, but a quick glance through the terrace windows unveils the sight of him sitting outside.

Orm and you exchange a curious look before deciding to join him. The door to the terrace swings open, and the cool breeze carries a hint of salt from the nearby ocean. The three of you are now under the vast expanse of the sky, the ambient light casting a warm glow on the terrace.

Arthur glances up as you approach, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, suggesting he might know more than he’s letting on. “Took you both long enough,” he quips, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You feel a rush of embarrassment, your cheeks reddening. “Sorry about that, Arthur. We got a bit, uh, caught up.”

“Well, caught up indeed,” his eyes shining with amusement, “I hope it was successful and you’re not angry at my brother anymore.”

You offer a sheepish smile, “It was...successful. And no, I’m not angry anymore. We worked things out.”

You glance at Orm, who still holds your hand and feel your heart beat a bit faster when you notice the soft look he has in his eyes. Smiling tenderly at him, he returns it, squeezing your hand gently.

Arthur interrupts the moment, “I’m glad, really, really glad. He deserves some happiness after all that happened.”

You furrow your brow at the unexpected revelation - you haven’t talked so far.

Arthur, letting out a hearty laugh and shaking his head, says, “Brother, brother.”

As Arthur’s playful remark lands, a flush of embarrassment paints your cheeks, creating a warm hue that’s hard to ignore. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes suggests he’s relishing your discomfort. Sensing your unease, Orm intervenes, his grip on your hand a reassuring anchor.

Turning his attention to his brother, Orm raises an eyebrow, “So Arthur -Why exactly are you here?”

Arthur takes a deep breath, the playfulness in his eyes replaced by a more severe and earnest expression.

“Look, Orm, you know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. The Council of Houses is making my life difficult, and these kingly duties are turning into a real headache. I figured, who better to guide me through this mess than you?”

The sincerity in his voice carries the weight of genuine concern and a hint of vulnerability. Orm, still holding your hand, regards his brother with a measured gaze.

Orm finally speaks, “Arthur, if you need my help, you’ve got it.”

Arthur exhales a sigh of relief, gratitude written across his face. “Thanks, Orm. I really appreciate this. Can we get this sorted out now?”

Orm turns to you, grabbing your other hand as well. You gaze into his eyes, a serious expression in them as they seem to carry the weight of impending responsibilities, and his demeanour reflects a sense of burden. His ocean-blue eyes, which were once warm and inviting, now hold a stoic resolve, reflecting the gravity of the situation.

“I’ll return to you later, honey,” his voice is a comforting murmur, and the endearment, casually slipping from his lips, warms you from within.

You squeeze his hands, conveying reassurance, “You better do, Orm - we’ll talk when you get back,” your voice soft, “You’re a good man. I don’t know if I ever said that to you.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later,” he responds, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turns to join Arthur.

You watch in stunned silence as Orm and Arthur exchange a few final words before making a dash towards the cliff’s edge. Their figures blur momentarily in the midday sun, and you can feel the rush of wind as they take a leap into the brightness below.

The silhouette of their forms disappears against the backdrop of the daylight, and you’re left standing on the terrace. The distant sound of the splash echoes in the stillness, marking their descent into the unknown depths below.

The warm midday air envelops you as you process the abrupt turn of events, feeling a mix of awe, concern, and a tinge of loneliness.

As you peer over the cliff’s edge, the sunlight reflects off the water below, leaving you with a sense of wonder and anticipation. The ocean, vast and enigmatic, seems to cradle the secrets that now intertwine with the destinies of those you care about.

_____

As the sun gradually descends towards the horizon, casting a warm and golden glow across the ocean, you find yourself standing at the edge of the cliff. Hours have passed since Orm and Arthur left for Atlantis.

The vibrant hues of the sunset paint the sky with shades of pink, orange, and deepening blues, creating a breathtaking canvas that mirrors the emotions swirling within you. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below provides a soothing backdrop to the quiet tension that has settled in.

Your gaze is fixed on the vast expanse of the ocean, each passing moment filled with a mix of hope and concern. The silhouette of the distant cliffs is outlined against the vivid sky, and you find yourself lost in the contemplation of what challenges Orm and Arthur might be facing beneath the surface.

The fading sunlight bathes you in its warm embrace as you wait, the cool breeze tousling your hair.

The rhythmic sounds of the ocean mask Arthur’s footsteps, and it’s only when he’s near that you become aware of his presence.

“My father also used to wait for my mother like this - staring into the open ocean at sunset,” Arthur says, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia and understanding.

Startled by his sudden presence, you let out a spontaneous scream, the sound echoing against the cliffs. Chuckling at your reaction, Arthur offers a wry smile, realising he caught you off guard.

With a nonchalant shrug, he continues, “I’m happy that he finally found someone who loves him as he is.”

The weight of Arthur’s words settles upon you, and your heart quickens with a mix of emotions. “What?” you stammer.

“He loves you too, you know,” Arthur adds, his eyes meeting yours. “I’ve never seen him like that before - like he is with you.”

A complex mix of emotions surges within you - surprise, gratitude, and a newfound understanding of the depth of Orm’s feelings and you feel yourself blushing.

If anyone were to ask you, you would have told them that you saw Orm walking towards you - but the truth is that you felt him.

A subtle shift in the atmosphere alerts you to Orm’s approach. It’s as if an invisible current is threading through the air, a palpable energy that you can almost taste. The hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, a gentle shiver coursing down your spine.

There he is, walking towards you with purpose. The soft glow of the fading sunlight bathes him in an ethereal radiance.

Dressed in a tight, dark blue long-sleeved shirt that clings to his form, every contour of his muscular physique is accentuated - the fabric moulds to the powerful lines of his chest and arms. The hue seems to echo the ocean’s depths, and the shirt’s wetness from his aquatic excursion shimmers in the soft light.

The shirt seamlessly transitions into a pair of fitted blue pants, which hug his hips and thighs with tailored precision. The pants, wet from his immersion, cling to his form, outlining the powerful sinews beneath. His steps are deliberate, every stride resonating with the fluidity of a creature accustomed to underwater realms.

Water droplets trickle down his hair, slicked back from his forehead, creating a mesmerising play of light. The damp strands retain a certain wildness, and the golden sunlight catches on the drops, turning them into ephemeral jewels that adorn his blonde hair.

The fading sunlight illuminates the angles of his face, accentuating the strong jawline and sculpted cheekbones. A subtle flush adorns his skin, a testament to the exertion of his aquatic adventure. In the soft glow of twilight, he looks ethereal, a being who belongs to both the sea and the land.

You, momentarily rendered breathless, gaze at him in awe, captivated by the striking image he presents - everything from the play of light on his damp clothes and the intensity in his eyes makes your heart beat faster.

When he’s close enough, his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sets your nerves alight.

The deep azure orbs reflect the rich hues of the ocean at dusk, where the sun’s last rays dance upon the water’s surface. Flecks of indigo and hints of mysterious shadows are mirrored in his gaze, creating an otherworldly blend of colours that mirror the hidden depths of the sea.

It’s as if you can see the ebb and flow of tides, the rise and fall of emotions, in the captivating swirls of blue that make up his eyes.

As he stands before you, his eyes continue to carry the essence of the ocean at dusk - a captivating panorama where the elements converge.

His hand reaches out, fingers intertwining with yours, and the warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

“Sorry for the wait, honey,” he says, his voice a low, soothing cadence. The pet name slips from his lips, and you feel a warm flutter in your chest just like every time he says it - you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it.

In the gentle breeze, you catch the scent of saltwater clinging to him, a reminder of the ocean’s embrace.

“I missed you,” Orm confesses, his voice carrying a mixture of sincerity and longing. The words, like the gentle lapping of waves on the shore, resonate in the quiet space between you.

“I missed you too,” you reply with a smile.

As he wraps his arms around you, the dampness of his clothes transfers to your skin, but you can’t seem to care when he holds you so close.

You gaze up at him, smiling and notice a subtle shift in his expression. The intensity softens, and a tender smile graces his lips.

“I brought you something,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his damp pants. With a teasing glint in his eyes, he reveals a small, seashell-shaped trinket, its surface shimmering in various iridescent hues. “It reminded me of you,” Orm confesses, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability - an innuendo to the sea glass from the beach a few days ago.

As he places a seashell in your palm, you can’t help but marvel at the intricate patterns and colours it holds.

“Thank you,” your voice is soft as you run your fingers over the surface.

The last vestiges of sunlight dip below the horizon, and Orm tilts his head, his eyes locked onto yours with a newfound softness. The ambient glow casts a warm radiance on his features, and the surroundings seem to blur, leaving only the two of you in this timeless embrace.

As Orm leans in, his lips brush against yours in a tender kiss. The sensation, like the meeting of sea and shore, is both comforting and exhilarating.

At that moment, you become acutely aware of Arthur’s presence nearby as he coughs.

Breaking away, Orm turns to Arthur, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Thanks for giving us a moment, Brother.”

Arthur grins, a playful glint in his eye. ”No problem. I should get back to my duties, Orm. I appreciate your help with the council matters. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Orm nods a sense of responsibility in his gaze. “Of course, Arthur.”

With a final nod to both of you, Arthur strides away, disappearing into the dimly lit surroundings. The gentle lapping of waves against the cliffs is the only audible sound.

You turn to Orm, catching his gaze in the fading light. “Well, I think it’s about time we head inside, don’t you?” you suggest, a gentle smile on your lips.

Orm nods in agreement, “Yes, I believe that would be a good idea.”

Together, you both make your way back into the warmth of the living room.

As you step inside, Orm turns to you, a soft expression on his face. “Are you okay?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “It’s just a lot - today, I mean, ” you reply, your eyes meeting his.

In response, Orm reaches out, his hand gently enveloping yours.

Orm looks at you, a sincerity in his eyes that echoes the quiet of the room. “I want you to know how truly sorry I am,” he begins, his voice carrying the weight of remorse.

His grip on your hand tightens as if trying to convey the depth of his regret through the warmth of his touch. “I know that today was a lot, and I should have told you sooner.”

Orm’s gaze remains fixed on yours, and in the stillness of the moment, you can sense the genuine remorse etched across his features.

You meet his earnest gaze and offer a reassuring smile. “Orm, I appreciate your apology, and I want you to know that I’m not angry anymore,” you say gently, reaching out to smooth the lines on his forehead.

Orm’s gaze softens further as your fingers glide over his forehead, and a subtle warmth emanates from his expression. His eyes, still reflecting the lingering vulnerability from earlier, now carry a touch of gratitude.

He reaches up, gently placing his hand over yours in a tender touch. His eyes hold yours, conveying a mixture of remorse and gratitude, as if he’s silently promising to do better.

Your fingers intertwine, and Orm brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss.

Breaking the silence, he speaks in a low murmur, “I never wanted to hurt you, and I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused. From now on, I promise to be more open with you.”

Your fingers gently trace patterns on his hand as you broach a topic that has lingered in your thoughts since the morning.

“Orm, when you spoke to Arthur earlier about him taking your throne, your betrothed, and your peace of mind, it left me wondering. And I’d like to know what happened,” you inquire, your gaze locked with his.

A part of you is hesitant as you broach this subject, a subtle fear lingering in your mind. The apprehension stems from the worry that Orm might reveal a betrothal in Atlantis, even though your rational self knows it’s likely not true.

Orm takes a deep breath, his gaze briefly drifting through the living room before settling back on you.

“As the rightful heir to the throne of Atlantis, I was prepared to ascend and lead our people into a new era. But things went sideways, and Arthur ended up taking the throne.” Orm explains, his voice carrying a mixture of frustration and resignation.

Orm’s eyes hold yours, revealing the layers of irritation and acceptance in his narrative. “Mera was my betrothed - we were destined to marry and unite our kingdoms. Yet, she sided with Arthur, and after everything settled, she married him.”

His tousled hair catches the light as he leans in, his features now a tapestry of vulnerability and resilience. The soft glow accentuates the contours of his face, and you can see the subtle play of emotions in his oceanic eyes.

“I fought for what I believed was right - the surface world’s intrusion into our oceans, their pollution. I sought to protect Atlantis from the perceived threats, even if it meant confronting my own family,” Orm continues, the vulnerability in his eyes belying the complexity of his emotions, “And I paid the price for that.”

“Well, for what it’s worth - I am glad you’re here. With me,” you admit, and your eyes meet him, and you take a deep breath before continuing, “I really like you.”

His eyes, a reflection of the moonlit sea, lock onto yours with a mixture of surprise and genuine warmth.

Without a word, Orm leans in slightly, his oceanic eyes fixated on yours. You feel the warmth of his presence, and as his lips inch closer, a soft electricity permeates the space between you.

“I like you too,” he whispers, his voice a gentle echo. “Being with you feels different, like a calm in the midst of the storm.”

And then, with a tender touch, Orm’s lips meet yours.

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undiscovered-horizon · 5 months

Note

Hello Sofia! My name is Aleksandra! Just wanted to send a request of Zoro x reader where reader has just joined the crew she is a witch and very strong, sweet, but could be intense (in a good way) as well as mysterious everyone in the crew absolutely loves her but it takes time for Zoro to completely trust her so he keeps his eye on her causing them both to have some tension some days they are arguing over tiny situations some days they are sitting alone together laughing and smiling at one another with feelings building up that they have yet to understand even though they are confused with their feelings their connection runs deeply to the point it drives them insane everyone else in the crew see's this (Besides our dear Luffy.) They try to get them to open up but it's hopeless at times. I was thinking Zoro gets a deep cut during a fight and Reader helps him with his wound this is where they are able to share their feelings and once they deeply kiss they understand how they feel from there.

I hope this is a good one to do! Thank you!✨🌻✨

I would love to be tagged at!💜 @shewalksinanotherworld

This took a little bit longer and I have nothing to say for myself except that my executive function does not, in fact, function. Enjoy! @shewalksinanotherworld Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

"The way to a man's heart" - Zoro x Reader

[graphic descriptions of open wounds]

Somebody once said that love and hate are two sides of the same coin - a token of devotion. Like tides of two seas that create storms and whirlpools upon meeting, it is often impossible to determine where one ends and the other begins. Perhaps, these waters have never differed as they are two ends of one river. Both lovers and enemies alike make up the first row of the funeral cortege.

And just like those seas, no matter whether they are the same or two different bodies, Zoro and you seem to be ebbing and flowing across love and hate. Flipping the coin of dedication each day to see where your tense relationship will take you. Sometimes more than once a day, when mere hours separate passionate fights from merry laughter.

But speaking of turning tides and seamlessly flowing waters, wouldn't the seas know each other far too well? What constitutes oceans of hate was once the pond of love. Conversely, the waters of affection had once flown as tides of enmity. If the answer is yes, it would explain quite a lot about the rather inexplicable connection you share with the swordsman. Sometimes not a word has to be spoken but a fleeting gaze exchange for either of you to know perfectly well what the other has on their mind.

To be fair, it's hard for you to put your finger on the why - Why are you and Zoro so strange with each other? The most plausible explanation would probably be his stubborn distrust. He's a very guarded person which, by itself, is not unfathomable considering his journey and livelihood. But it is absolutely tedious when he sticks to his guns against all available evidence. Weeks went by when Zoro was the only crewmember who perceived you in different shades of suspicion, even after witnessing you put your life on the line for your mutual friends. His stubbornness was frustrating, so you gave him as good as you got and well... Here we are, wading in the murky waters of passion, both pleasant and adverse.

However, you'll be wading much different waters, those flowing in the Styx River, if you don't escape now. The Indigo Cross pirates are a little too close behind you. You can almost feel their breaths on your neck as they scream about revenge, bloodshed and defending their captain's honour. Yes, about that... It wasn't exactly Luffy's fault that the man he told to apologize to the tavern waitress was the world's most narcissistic pirate. Alas, the damage is done and so is your chance at a peaceful shore leave.

The Merry Go is but a few meters away. You just have to get to the gangway and run up the stairs so fast your mother would go bald from stress. Just two things, right?

Your foot gets caught the between rotting planks of the pier. The unforeseen obstacle in your escape startles you, giving you barely any time to shield your face from the painful impact of the ground.

"Shit!" you groan to yourself, yanking your foot.

Zoro yells out your name. In long strides, he catches up with you. He manages to rip away one of the mould-covered planks. Despite your foot being set free, the man lifts you to stand on your own.

"You go, I'll hold them back," he orders you as he nudges you in the direction of the ship. Before you can defy him, Zoro is already running towards the oncoming wave of looking-for-a-scrap pirates.

Time seems to slow down as you watch a spear, its polished head shining in the sunlight, fly through the air and pierce Zoro's chest. He stumbles backwards and falls on one knee. With a roar of agony, the swordsman grabs the long shaft of the weapon. A loud snap fills the air as he breaks the wood off. Then, like a phoenix rising from the ashes,, Zoro stands up. Although his legs tremble slightly, he still lifts his swords and fights off the Indigo pirates. Some seem to drop their weapons in surrender, seeing that not even death can grasp this demon of a man.

You want to call for him but Sanji firmly grabs your arm and pulls you on board. "Come on, he can handle himself."

Having hidden on the lower deck, you're not sure what happened on the shore and onboard the ship until you saw none other but Roronoa Zoro, stumbling down the stairs and almost falling on the floor. Luffy, Usopp and even Sanji yell and nag at him to get his wound looked at while Nami keeps calling him different variations of "stupid" but Zoro only curses at them and tells a less savoury "Leave me alone".

Maybe thirty minutes pass by until the emotions die down or are at least well hidden. Your four friends sit around the kitchen, all strangely silent. They all give you a curious look when you let out a heavy sigh and march towards Zoro's room. He's going to die one day, obviously, but it's not going to be today. And definitely not because he put your safety before his own. What kind of rom-com death would that be?

Zoro is facing you with his back when you swing the door open without even knocking first. You seem to have interrupted his rather poor attempt at bandaging the hole in his chest. He looks over his shoulder, his face bearing an expression of annoyance.

"What do you want?"

You toss a handful of medical supplies on top of the chest with his belongings. The fresh dressings, a small bottle of alcohol, a needle and a thread tell quite the story, lying next to the bloodied head of a spear with splinters coming out of where the long shaft should be. It's still hardly believable what he did back there.

"When you get an infection, you green-haired idiot," you speak with your hands crossed on your chest. It's clear as day - you're pissed off, "it will be Sanji spoon-feeding you. I'm sure you'll be having the time of your life then."

Your sarcastic remark doesn't seem to phase him. The wrinkle between Zoro's eyebrows only gets deeper.

"I'm fine. I've been worse," he says with an exasperated sigh. "Just piss off," the man groans in a low voice.

Maybe if he wasn't already injured, you'd punch him straight in the jaw. "Stop being a stubborn ass," you raise your voice, "and let me help you."

Zoro rolls his eyes dramatically. Making a show of his discontentment, he sits on the edge of his hammock. If he was just a few yours younger maybe he'd stomp his feet too, as befits a toddler he seems to have chosen to act like.

Minutes go by in silence as you clean the deep would and do your best suturing it. Meanwhile, Zoro doesn't even wince. He's perfectly calm and collected, almost as though his soul has left his body and gone for a stroll.

By the looks of it, you haven't stitched wounds many times and Sanji would probably be better at this, with his experienced hands and all, but that would require Zoro to be either already dead or at least unconscious. There's no other way he'd willingly let those slimy fingers touch him.

“They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach," you say under your breath as you tighten the knot on the last suture. The last thing you want is the deep wound reopening. "I guess going through his ribs works too.”

"A lot more efficient." The swordsman chuckles but his laughter soon turns into winces and groans. Although he's not going to bleed to death anymore, the rather large hole in his chest is this painful and not something to trifle with.

"A spear nearly pierced right through you and you're having a laugh?" You nod with approval. He's impressed you, you have to give him that. "Roronoa Zoro, you command respect."

A silence falls between you again as you put back the collection of medical supplies you've managed to find aboard. Little do you know, Zoro's watchful gaze doesn't leave you. He seems to be intensely thinking about something.

"Thanks," he finally spits out. "I would rather die than let Sanji spoon-feed me."

It's not the wraith of death that scared him into letting you patch him up - it was the cook in a striped shirt. Really? Roronoa Zoro is a lot of things but "ordinary" or "predictable" is not one of them.

You burst into laughter. "Unfortunately," you manage to breathe out, "I would have loved to see that."

He shakes his head in disapproval but his lips are curved into a grin. "I hate you."

"No, you don't, big guy," you answer as you playfully poke his arm. It's still covered in dried blood and sweat.

His dark eyes stare into yours with a strange glint to them. It's almost like amusement but not entirely - it's deeper, much deeper. "Yeah, I don't," he whispers.

Everything happens so fast: Zoro grabs your neck and pulls you flush against himself, crashing his lips against yours. Involuntarily you yelp, which elicits a chuckle from the man. On one hand, you're surprised with his sudden declaration of passion but on the other hand, you're relieved. Of course, you have joked that Zoro must be in love with you to be so annoying most of the time but rarely did you consider it a real possibility. He just... didn't seem like a man who loves, only desires. But now, when he's kissing you so desperately and eagerly, you feel stupid for ever thinking such thoughts. As his hand roams your body, you begin to wonder whether all of this has always been this funny - every one of your friends already knew the feelings you had for each other, except the two of you. Something so obvious it's easily overlooked.

It makes you think that he was, actually, scared of losing but not his life. He was scared of losing someone.

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figthefruitfaeth · 9 months

Note

108 "is that my shirt?" with the pairing of your choice please zoey <3

my dear beloved lou—i love this prompt so much, thank you <3 please know i listened to moon river by frank ocean for the entirety of its creation. I hope you like it

steddie | pre-slash/confession (kinda) | 868 words

Eddie takes a deep breath.

Blue. That's what it feels like. Spring fresh cornflowers in his lungs, the edges of an inky indigo sky staining his fingertips. Blue is the breath he takes, the old ceramic bowl of cereal he's got clutched to his chest, the veins under his skin.

It's the color of Steve's shirt.

Eddie shifts—presses his back fully against the window frame, the cold seeping through the thin cotton a welcome relief from the heat of the day. He keeps his head titled out towards the street, but his eyes are focused in.

Steve is on the opposite end of the window, head resting against the glass, his own bowl of cereal balanced carefully on both knees. Eddie watches the last of the day curling into his collarbone, the tips of his bangs. His chest moving in slow and easy breaths, eyes just slivers of hazel in the light. A sleepy cat, perfectly content.

Yet despite the quiet peace of the moment, Eddie feels it. Has felt it all day. Something sticking, unsettled in himself. Sleep in the corner of his eyes, the dry coarse grind of sand in his back molars. He's blamed it on the weed, paranoia lurking in the silence between the hum and ding of the microwaved nachos they'd made earlier—his mind trying to makeup for a body that had, for once, slowed down.

But that didn't stop himself from feeling it, from knowing something is off—no, Eddie shakes his head—different.

Something is different about Steve.

Steve, very carefully, spoons a mouthful of mushy multi-grain into his mouth. Grimaces, then does it again. A drop of milk lands on his shirt, seeping into fabric quicker than it landed. A spot of midnight in a sea of navy.

His shirt is blue. Which, all things considered, isn't different at all. Though he tends to favor the warmer side of the wheel chart, Steve's wardrobe is a rainbow of colors. From steel blue jackets to violet sweaters, Eddie's seen him in it all.

Mouth closed, his tongue runs along his teeth, twists against the edges of the back. Can't quite reach the end.

A dark blue t-shirt. A little big, not swallowed in fabric but less form fitting than most of his clothes. Old, maybe second or even third hand if the edges of the sleeves are anything to go by. Or the image splashed on the chest, which is really only a memory of a design—speckled silver to grey in uneven patches. There's still one letter legible, a sharp 't' dead in the middle.

It looks a bit like a band t-shirt, reminds Eddie of the shirts Wayne gave him when he first moved in, before they could go the Salvation Army together. Smoke and oil clinging to the threads, a reference to a song he'd only heard once on the radio, but stuck. Settled the buzz in his head, let his body move and mean something more than disappointment. Staring in the mirror, hair barely more than a buzzcut, navy stark against his pale skin—

”Is that my shirt?”

His voice is too loud, accidentally overshot by both the shock and last half hour of silence. Steve doesn't seem to be as affected, turning his head against the glass to face Eddie with a smooth nonchalance.

“Yeah,“ he says. Eddie looks at him, brows raised. Steve looks back, bloodshot eyes blinking slowly, seemingly feeling a one word explanation is all he needs.

Eddie searches for something, anything to say, ends up with a choked cough, and then, “Why?” Which—stupid, stupid, stupid.

Glacial blue, Steve looks down at his (his or his? theirs?) shirt, then back up at Eddie.

“Must've gotten it mixed up.”

Must've gotten it mixed up.

What.

Eddie blinks. Feels a bit like a dog as he shakes his head, mouth opening and then closing up tight in quick succession. There's no way Steve Harrington mixed up his clothes. The man spends 30 minutes a night picking out his outfit for the next day. He missed a group movie cause he couldn't find the right jacket. He almost had a conniption when Dustin tried to wash his colors with his whites.

Steve always wears the gold and red striped socks when he needs a bit of luck and never just throws something on. Steve doesn't ‘mix up’ clothes, not unless he's dying, not unless it means something—

Oh.

“Oh,” he says out loud, dumbly.

Steve smiles like their afternoon—a hazy, sticky sweet honey in his hands.

“Yeah.”

And then Steve winks, and turns back to the window.

Eddie bites his lip, feels his mouth tearing away into a smile anyway. Turns back to the outside before he does something crazy, shovels in another spoonful of nearly disintegrated cereal, watches night settle in. Lights from other, distant homes click on, warm yellow windows bobbing along in the pitch black darkness.

In the morning, when the sky lives up to its infamous hue, and the weed has left them their usual jittery, overthinking selves—Eddie will ask him other questions, will need more replies filled with complex, compound sentences.

Eddie takes a deep breath.

Navy.

And for now, that's enough.

writing prompts!

#my work #my writing #steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #ask game #writing prompt #eee this was so lovely to write and i really hope it makes sense #they're in love ur honor okay #brought to you by frank ocean's moon river and ikea sparkling pear juice

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shiny-kaibernyte · 2 months

Note

If you're taking requests, I love Drayton (favorite Dragon boy) and as a Fairy trainer, I'm super curious what the romantic (and friend) dynamics would be with him. So, I guess I'm asking for Drayton x Fairy reader content? 😅🩷

This gives me opposites attract vibes. The sweet Fairy type dynamic compared to Drayton being Drayton is a vibe I can get behind!

Pixie Wings | Drayton x Reader (Fairy specialist)

Pokémon Scarlett and Violet Indigo Disk DLC Spoilers ahead!

After growing up together traveling the unnova region side by side; when Drayton moved away to blueberry academy, he felt a small part of him was left behind. But fate seemed to have other ideas when a familiar face shows up to brighten his day.

Warnings: Lots of fluff with a little bit of Lacey hate

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for The Indigo Disk Ending

Why is Alcremie so cute? Like look at that lil guy, lil buddy so happy to be here 💗

Today was the day, the day you would travel to the blueberry academy. The school upon the sea! For the longest time, you had spent all of your time inside a stupid office building of a school. So when one of your closest friends and yourself both received letters of enrolment to the school; the stars aligned again! Though that didn’t stop the waves of nerves rushing over you. Seems you weren’t the only one feeling them, either.

Sitting on the plane, the nerves settled deeper and deeper in your gut as the mixture of excitement and dread flooded your every thought. Questions rolling around like the ocean tide below you, covering your mind like a cloud does the sun.

“What's got you so quiet?” A voice piped up from your side, “Nerves getting the better of you?”

With a deep sigh, you scrunch your noise, fingers placed on the bridge of it. “Sorry, sorry, I just keep thinking about everything that's going to happen when we arrive. I've never gone to a place like this. Sylveon was acting up all morning too, she isn’t much of a flying fan.”

“I get that, Mimikyu is the same, I can feel his ball shaking in my pocket.” A laugh escaped the both of you as the small talk wafted the clouds away from your mind. “I know you are going to be fine! You're the best damn fairy type trainer I know, and I know a lot of them! I went to a prep school for two years. You don’t get more fairy type than a blonde teen obsessed with make up.”

“That is very true.” The smile on your lips grew bigger as you leaned back into the plane seat, looking out the window to see your destination below. “I wish I could tell Drayton about this…”

“I know…”

Time went by quickly. Upon arriving at the school, a fellow Fairy type user gave you a tour of the building and the terrarium to boot. Teaching you all about the BB League and the other clubs around the school. A nice bonding session as well with your mutual feelings on fairy type Pokémon. She was nice, her outfit was cute too, though there was something you didn't quite get along with about Lacey. “And that about sums it up! To recap, the terrarium is split into four sections, the savannah biome is where the school entrance is! If you are a battler, the BB league is located inside to the right of the stairs. The elite four bases are spread out throughout the terrarium. Be careful when you go for the dragon trial, he, um, tends to get a little full of himself. Nothing new though. Just be advised to not fuel his ego any more than it already is.”

“Will do, thank you again for this. We look forward to seeing you at the trials!” You pipe up, disregarding the comment she made about her ‘friend’. With a small wave, Lacey spun on her heel and headed off for the coastal biome.

“Well, that was something.” Your friend piped up, trying not to laugh about how awkward that last part was. “Considering she calls everyone in the BB league club her friend, the way she speaks about the Dragon elite four members says otherwise. I mean she didn’t even use his name? How can we go off of toothpaste for a name?”

“I don’t know, but I'm sure we’ll meet him. Who knows, maybe it's a sibling rivalry sort of thing between them. Kinda felt like it to me.” You question, attempting to come up with any reason she may have been particularly pokey about one member and not the rest.

The sound of a poke ball stopped your conversation dead in its tracks. Your Archaludon had decided he was bored with the conversation and wanted attention now. Sylveon may have been your first Pokémon, but Archaludon held a special place in your heart; being the only reminder of Drayton you had. It was his Duraladon after all, a parting gift he gave you. It may not have been a fairy type, but that didn’t stop you from putting a fairy tera on it. Just for argument's sake.

Sitting down on a random rock, you quietly feed Archaludon a poffin, keeping him entertained whilst your friend rummages through her bag, finally zipping it back up once she was happy with whatever she did. “Well, I'm a head inside. Lacey describing the science club got me all giddy. Joltik agrees with me.” A small chirp followed your friend's voice as her tiny joltik popped out from her hood. How you didn’t notice it this whole time is beyond you. With a silent wave, you watch her walk into the distance. You weren’t alone for long though

“Two new students in one day and no one told me!?” A voice chimed up from along the beach. A boy, taller than others you had seen during the tour. His hair was spiked up at the front in one big swoop, kind of like, toothpaste. Just like Lacey had said. Though you could only see the back of him. From his outfit, he definitely fits the bill of dragon trainer.

That's when it hit you. Something about that hair seemed so familiar to you, and it hit you like a tauros. “Do my eyes deceive me!? Drayton? Drayton!! I can’t believe it!”

His neck snapped so fast, it was a surprise he didn’t give himself whiplash. The sound of your voice being music to his ears. Seems his feet began moving on their own; he didn’t even register he was moving till he was already hugging you tighter than a mousehold. “How are you here? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that!” You respond, wrapping your arms around him tighter, still trying to comprehend the fact he really was there with you. “You moved to the other side of Unova!”

Drayton’s laugh coated your ears, causing your already beaming smile to brighten even more. “Well I didn’t say exactly where, probably should have mentioned the ocean school part huh.”

“Yeah, I've missed you so much, Drayton. Things just haven't been the same without your lively presence.” He had no response to that, only a simple hum as he moved away from you, his hands on your shoulders, a smile on his face.

That's when your entire team all decided to join Archaludon outside. Sylveon comes out first, running around Drayton’s legs, her blue coat fluffing up with every pass she makes. Your Archaludon was already watching the scene, if it had a tail it would be wagging. The sight of his old trainer and his current trainer looking so happy made the bridge happier than a yamper. Vanilla Alcremi came out not long after Sylveon, doing a little happy dance alongside your Hattereen. Silently your white florges admired the situation, being the newest of the team she simply watched, enjoying the reunion that was unfolding.

“Seems you were not the only one who missed me!” Drayton chuckled, running his hand along Archaludon’s side.

“Would seem that way. When Lacey described you earlier, you were not the person I pictured.” You admitted thinking back to what Lacey said.

Drayton smiled and pulled you into his side to allow the Archaludon to nuzzle into him, his arm around your shoulder. “Ah don’t pay Lacey any mind, she isn’t too fond of my fighting style, she thinks my attitude is unprofessional. Her words, not mine.”

“Well I think your fighting style is great, even if I can beat you no problem.” A cocky grin painted on your face, teasing him.

“Oh is that so!? How about we put that to the test, then?” Drayton offered his signature smirk appearing

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 2 months

Text

my favorite art piece

pairing: knight!steve harrington x fem!princess reader

wc: 777

warnings: none. tis' a clean story.

summary: knight and princess talk about the visiting duke over oil painting.

A/N: another story to my knight!steve series. alone together is the first one but you could read either one standalone.

masterlist

“was hoping i’d find you here. was beginning to worry you climbed the palace walls again and i’d have my head chopped off.” a male voice entered your quiet art room.

barely a glance over your shoulder you knew who was stepping behind you. the gentle clang of his armor and weapon reverberated off the high ceilings.

“i’d never let them do such a thing. can’t waste a pretty face away.” the smirk evident in your words.

the footsteps and clanking stopped just over your right shoulder, “they don’t write sonnets about this face for nothing, princess.”

an unprincessly snort left your nose, “oh do they? you must recite some to me one day. would adore to hear.”

steven hummed, “what is your focus on today, princess? you mostly paint when stressed.”

focused brush strokes paused, ignoring the way your heart beat just a bit faster that he knew something so small about your ticks. “not always. it’s just when… inspiration hits me. and perhaps it may be when i can’t control something.” resuming practiced strokes, a band of fury hidden beneath a poised grip.

“might i inquire what has you… vexed?” steven took two steps over, now in your peripheral.

shades of periwinkle and indigo mixed, “if you must. but mind your words.” speaking slowly, fully concentrating on your work.

“would this have anything to do with a certain duke? one who happens to be visiting for the week?” you ignored the gentle venom of the word duke.

“lord hargrove’s arrival has been known for many days. though his intentions of travel have not been stated until the day of his arrival.” seeing shades of red while adding spots of white.

“i’m guessing-“ “marriage! lord hargrove is here for my hand in marriage. in request of my father and his, for the good of our kingdoms.” stains of paint dripped down the canvas in tears.

“marriage,” steven repeated, you could imagine the slight snare on his face at the word.

“yes, marriage,” a deep sigh from overuse of the word, “to a man i don’t know and is expected to wed in the spring. no choice in the matter.” rinsing your brush in the murky paint water, tapping it against the lip before pressing it onto a cloth.

“not quite fair to expect that of you.” steven grabbed a stool close by to be placed beside you. he was now sitting shoulder to bicep.

you couldn’t help your scuff, “i’m but a woman. they only tolerate us cause we can be sold like sheep and breed like a calf. a single syllable from our lips can bring us death. seen not heard.” your once melancholy painting transforming into a brutal storm, one that brings sailors to the ocean floors.

dropping your brush beside your easil, you finally turn to sir steven. his back straight with knees bent at the perfect angle, a slight spread to the long limbs. forearms resting on thighs while mindlessly tugging at his fingers, head dipped with untamed strands of hair flinging about.

you spoke before you could stop, “let me paint you.” speaking quietly not wanting to disrupt the peace.

steven’s head picked up and met your wondering eyes, “pardon?” a pinch to his brows.

you cocked your head, “let me paint you. would cheer me up.” standing to your feet in search of a spare canvas.

“princess-“ “please? i wish to paint the face people pen poems and sonnets about.” trying to feed his ego.

you heard the deep sigh but saw the little smile before he could wipe it away, “your wish is my command, princess.” starting to move before you rushed over and rested a palm on his shoulder, “stay. the lighting is perfect.”

he peered up, long lashes framing normal brown eyes that held something special. his patches of silver armor cool under your warm palm. “just sit like before, but keep your head up.”

“am i getting a portrait done by the lovely princess y/n l/n? i must be the luckiest man alive.” his sword clicked off the wooden stool leg.

you started collecting more oil colors, “i would say so. and i would also say i’m the luckiest princess alive since i’ll get to stare at you while detailing my work to perfection.”

satisfied with your supplies and making sure they stay put, you begin your simple outline in black chalk. the simple task is a distraction from your loose words and hummingbird heart.“quiet flattered, princess.” princess said in a low tone that forced you to suppress a shiver. “only the best for my favorite knight.” saying the words only to yourself.

#steve harrington fluff #knight steve #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington au #knight!steve x princess!reader

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soriseerakyra · 1 year

Text

A Diplomatic Exchange

“This is the last of it.”

He looks over the crate of supplies. Dark eyes deceptively looking over the box with a discerning eye.

One of the Dora accompanying you hands the box over to the soldier that was standing behind him.

An amicable exchange of resources. This had been going on for the past few months, almost a year now.. Your two nations exchanging little things. Technology that the other didn’t actually need but the symbolism of the exchange held having held more than anything you could have given each other.

Namor, had shown up the first time to facilitate the exchange, keeping an eye on things. You didn’t need a translator, the beads on your wrist took care of that. But things had been tense when the exchange first started. And without the two of you being here, you aren’t sure the exchanges would have gone well. But that was at the beginning. This was almost the tenth exchange that you had done. And he showed up every time.

“The last?” He questions with a slightly quirked eyebrow.

“F-for this time,” you respond quickly.

A smile crosses his face.

You aren’t sure why you were so nervous. Maybe because he always seems like he was teasing you. The lilt of his voice, and the little cocks of his head. And the eyes. There were so many eyes on you right now.

“We should talk,” he hums. Rocking forward slightly on the balls of his feet. He turns a glance to the soldiers behind him. And with a nod he orders them away. They hesitate. This meeting had become routine for them but his people had always been nervous. You didn’t blame them. As part of these diplomatic talks they were sending a King, a god. Your nation sent you. A diplomat and a friend of the black panther. Important to Shuri as a friend and citizen of Wakanda, but it was hardly an equal playing field.

But, his word is absolute. They listen, and sink back into the indigo depths of the water.

You turn to do the same. But are surprised to see your guards already heading back to the ship that’s parked not too far away from the beach.

“Ayo?” You question watching the retreating back of the taller of the women. She turns, head over shoulder and you feel your stomach fall in slight embarrassment. There is a smirk pulling over her lips as she elbows the Dora next to her.

They already know. Of course they know. And if they know, that means Okoye knows. And if she knows that means Shuri knows…

You’re in for an earful when you get back. But you can’t think of that now.

Not when a warm hand is gripping on your wrist, begging for you to turn your attention back to the man behind you. But you didn’t, you waited.

The fingers wrapped around your wrist released, when he felt your attention on him. He steps closer, the water around the pair of your feet sloshing slightly as he moves. Your nose prickles slightly as you are enveloped by the scent of him and the sea. The salt of it pricking at your eyes and the slight musk of him weakening whatever resolve there was left in you.

His fingers lace with yours, and his chest is pressed against your back. He feels the shiver that runs down your spine as his nose is pressed to the base of your neck.

“It looks like you’ll have time today,” he hums.

You have to stop yourself from sighing. Your head arches to lean back on his shoulder and your eyes meet his. Molten and dark. You almost shake at the intensity.

Your lips part to give him an answer, but he already knows before you say it. He leans forward slightly and your eyes daze. Gaze drawn to his lips. You’re so distracted that you almost jump when a mask is pressed against your face.

You take a deep breath, filtered air filling your lungs. And he watches intently, making sure that mask is secured. When he’s certain you’re ready, a finger runs across the line of your jaw. He gives a nod and your eyes close as you are enveloped by the ocean.

*****

“How much longer until you finish that section?”

He doesn’t jump when he hears your voice in his head anymore. The first time was surprising, but not unwelcome. And he had laughed when you explained to him it was an accident.

“The work is never truly done,” he hums slightly. He rolls his shoulders as he straightens his posture to look at the mural. He is proud of it. Even in the dim blue lighting of the room, the colors are vibrant. “Something always needs to be tended to.”

He sets his palette and brushes down and stands and faces you. His robes billow slightly as he walks back over to the small nest that the two of you share.

You’re sitting up straight, leaning against the headboard, head poking out of covers that just barely cover your shoulders. A sleepy smile on your swollen lips.

“Why are you hiding?” He teases sitting on the edge of the bed.

You feel the burn of his gaze, as if he could see through the thin blanket covering you. And that might have been the case. He knew your body well enough by now, that hiding it from him did nothing.

With a sigh your shoulders fall, and the blanket slips slightly. If it fell or stayed would no longer be under your control.

He grabs your hand, rubbing a large thumb over the back of it. You feel warm as a sense of contentment runs through your body.

“You’re happy.”

The tilt of his head lets you know that he means it as a question. But the crinkle and confidence of his dark eyes lets you know that he’s certain of it.

“I’m always happy when I get to see you,” You speak this time. His eyes follow every moment of your lips.

“You could be happy all of the time,” he responds quickly.

You look at him with wide eyes, whatever drowsiness from your previous entanglement leaving. He had broached the subject before, about staying with him forever. Your blood had run cold the first time he suggested it. And you emphatically said no. There was so much you had to do. You had life in Wakanda after all. Family and friends who loved you would miss you dearly.

But things had slowly begun to change. When Shuri had suggested you for this mission you had expected it to be something passive. An exchange of goods or services while you made nice with people who killed your queen and flooded your city.

It was different now. Understanding him and his people has become an integral part of your life. And when you were alone your thoughts were flooded with him.

“I could,” you muse, averting your eyes from his. You found purchase on a little stool with fresh clothes flooded neatly onto them sat your Kimoyo Beads. One of them was pulsing, red. It’s been hours, time for your “talk” to end.

Your eyes cut to meet his again, and he’s so much closer. Pressing himself on top of you and his lips against yours. Your body slides down the headboard as your hands rush up to tangle in his inky black hair.

This is your fault. You realize, you’d given him an opening and he’d taken in it.

“Stay.”

He thinks.

And you have never heard anything so emphatic in all of your life.

His arm reaches between the two of you and wrenches the thin blanket away from your body. He presses himself over your exposed skin draping the both of you in his robe.

His kisses stray from your mouth down your jaw stopping at the expanse that is your neck. Kissing and biting. You’re enraptured again, they way you always are when he’s like this.

“Stay,” He presses again.

You want to say yes. So desperately you do, but…

“I can’t.”

You push back. And he pulls away from you.

Hovering over your body he looks at you quizzically. And you’re happy that there is no anger there. There never was.

He pauses for a moment, and his gaze is far away. He’s looking past you as he’s collecting his thoughts. You do him the courtesy of staying out of his head as he brings his thoughts into focus.

“Why?” He asks when he returns to you. There is something sinister in his eyes when asks the questions. Like he knows what your answer will be.

“My life is in Wakanda,” you answer simply.

He chuckles, and kisses your forehead.

“Liar. Why?”

“I’m not lying,” you say with a furrowed brow.

“Aren’t you?” He questions as he presses another kiss to you face, your cheek this time. “What is it you do when you go home?”

“I-,” the answer falls on your lips. Your throat dries up and you realize that you’ve walked yourself into a trap. “Research.”

“What do you research, hm?” He asks, pressing another kiss on your cheek and then the tip of your nose.

“Ways to ease the tensions between…us,” you say quietly.

“If you’re here, what better way to bring cultural understanding.”

He smiles like the devil. He’s already plotted this out, you realize. Today you won’t be able to maneuver out of this.

“My family,” you say. “And my friends.”

“See them when you want,” he answers with ease. “You know that I would not take that from you.”

“My duty…”

That was a weak one, and the words nearly die on your lips before you can get them out.

“Your duty,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Is to appease me.”

You want to snort at the pompousness of his answer but before you can, he rolls his hips into yours. You arch slightly at the sudden movement and he bites down on your neck. It’s harsher than a love bite. A warning. Stop lying.

“The truth.” He requests, his eyebrows are furrowed slightly. It’s not real anger. He wants to understand what it is he’s doing that’s not enough to make you stay with him.

He had piles of clothes made for you. Jewelry woven from precious stones and rooms that increasingly started to mimic ones that looked like your own back in Wakanda.

“The truth,” you relent.

Your hands come up to cup his face. Almost instantly he softens, leaning his face into the warmth of your hands.

“I’m afraid,” you say simply. A small smile pulls at the corners of your lips as you whisper the truth of it. “I’m afraid this won’t be the same. That you won’t want me the way that you do now.”

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you can tell from the slight frown pulling down on his face that he is not happy at the revelation.

“What if I age? You are a God to your people. And I know that I’m,” you pause, you try to find the right word for it. “Different, but that doesn’t mean I’m like you. I might get old. I might die.”

There it was, the truth of it. How much would you expect from him really? Your differences made you interesting, sure. But how long would that last when he found out that you were probably like every other human?

But he doesn’t hesitate. As the last words fall words fall from your lips. He’s back on you. Smashing your lips together. His hands move down to your hips. From there his fingers spread, slowly moving down and gripping the flesh of your thighs. Every squeeze rings a moan from your lips, and in this opening he slips his tongue. You feel like you're melting. His hands hook underneath your knees and bring them around his waist.

Your hands move down to drape over his broad shoulders, wanting to pull more of him as close to you as possible. But he stops you. He pulls away and looks at you with hooded eyes.

“I will spend every day showing you how much I want you,” he whispers. “I don’t love you because you are different, because you are like me.”

He takes one of your hands and presses a kiss to your palm before he presses it to his heart.

“I love you because of you. With all that means.”

He means it. His words are resolute. His nostrils flaring around the jade that’s so delicately placed in his nose. His eyes are intense, and despite the hushed tones on his voice is firm. It’s always so simple with him. He’s quick to cut to the core of an issue, and solve it. What else could you say but,

“I love you too.”

Maybe you needed to hear him say it. To hear yourself say it. Because once it leaves your lips. Whatever nervousness that was knotting together in your stomach disappears. The only thing you feel after is the flush on your cheeks, the excitement in your chest, and the ache where your hips meet his.

He sees this change in you. The bite of your lip, the excitement twinkling in your eyes. And he could feel it too. The hand that’s on his shoulder digging in his back slightly, your legs subtly pulling him closer. He just needed you to say it with your words.

“Say it,” he orders, voice thick with lust.

“I’ll stay.”

You’re engulfed by him, the way that the sea swallows its prey. And it's hours before you’re able to think of anything else but him and the two of you together.

When you come too, flushed and thoroughly pleasured, you realize the only thing you have to worry about now is how you’ll explain what happened to the Dora whom you’d left on the beach.

#namor x reader #namor x y/n #namor x you #black panther x reader #Marvel

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loviatarsluv · 30 days

Text

Would That I (3)

pairing: Gale x f!tav (my own oc, Elara)

(takes place in an AU where the absolute and the cult basically don't exist so this is non-canon compliant, I guess)

rating: slightly mature (no spice just yet)

content includes: yearning and pining (still), teacher gale, tara being the best wingman (heh) in waterdeep, fluff

in summary: things are still a little tense the morning after the almost kiss, and both gale and elara are miserable (but still somehow cannot communicate properly for the life of themselves) until an unexpected magic lesson brings them together and makes them have a much needed discussion

a/n: ugh I wanted to make this a slow slow slow burn but I just can’t help it I need to write sweet wizard smut STAT so here we flippin go gamers it has begun

word count: 7k

Wordless meals and silent mornings were not a novel concept.

She’d endured many in her years living with her uncle, who was not exactly a morning person by any means, whilst she typically was the opposite.

She was an early riser, always had been. She loved waking up with just enough time to greet the sun as it peeked over the horizon. She loved being able to sit outside and admire the way it painted the sky in gorgeous pastel hues as if it were an offering or a gift to those who woke early enough to see it. She loved the purity of the calm and quiet of the breeze off of the ocean and the songs of the birds before the rest of the world had begun to stir for the day, before the sounds of the bustle of the city could drown them out.

The first month or so living here in Waterdeep, mornings were mostly like this, as they hadn’t really gotten to know each other well enough for any substantial conversation or even most small talk. It wasn’t quite so agonizing then, though, as it is now. It was a gentle awkwardness then, both of them wanting to initiate conversation but not really knowing how to. This— this was much worse.

She woke to the smell of breakfast already cooking and the faint sounds of pots and pans clattering. That was her first warning sign.

She almost always woke before Gale on any given day. She would normally be lounging by her favorite tree or reclining on the sofa in the main area reading by the time he stumbled into the kitchen, eyes still full of sleep and voice still gruff.

She debated just locking herself in this room and hiding away until uncle Alastor returned— as impractical as it was of an idea, its appeal only increased as her morning dragged on.

She took her time dressing for the day, hoping maybe Gale would finish his breakfast before she made it downstairs and move on with his day. That, of course, was a fruitless thought.

Even with tensions as high as they were, he still waited for her, busying himself by burying his nose within a tome about Abjuration as he absently pushed around his food with his fork.

He was still in his night clothes— his loose white linen shirt very loosely laced and showcasing the dark hair on his chest, his deep indigo comfort robe very lazily thrown over his shoulders, and she assumed he was wearing his matching linen pants as well but couldn’t see past the table. His glasses were perched in the spot they almost always were whenever he read— right on the tip of his nose— as his brows furrowed in concentration while his dark eyes skimmed over the pages. His hair was mostly tied back, only a few loose strands falling around his shoulders and face.

The universe was mocking her, she was sure of it.

He was being dangled in front of her, like a carrot being dangled on a string before a rabbit to encourage it to run. And oh, hells, did she want to run right into his arms— if only they had been open for her to run into.

“Good morning,” He says, never looking up from the pages of his book as he greets her, his voice warm but not entirely eager. Not the way it had been nearly every morning prior.

“Morning,” she says meekly, her voice still rough from slumber. She sits without another word, staring down at her plate.

She knows that he won’t eat unless she does, he always waited for her to eat before he took a bite. But she could not muster the appetite to even be interested in what looked to be an otherwise delicious breakfast. She sighs, grabbing her fork and prodding at one of the eggs on her plate.

His eyebrow quirks as he glances up at her, noticing her poking at her food when normally she’d have been wolfing it down by now. He clears his throat. “Not hungry?”

She meets his gaze with trepidation, hoping she isn’t offending him even further than she already had the night prior. She sits back in her seat, leaning her head against the backing of it and directing her face toward the ceiling. “Not particularly.” She admits.

He nods, then takes a small bite of his own food. “I can save it for you, for when you are. If you’d like.”

She offers him a weak but thankful smile. “I’d appreciate that.”

Not another word was exchanged between them for the rest of the time that they both remained downstairs, until eventually Gale stood and grabbed both of their plates and began to wash up, barely acknowledging her as he reached over her to reach her plate.

Agonizing may have been putting it lightly. She was in utter misery.

She wanted to ask him if there was a time traveling spell that he could teach her, but decided maybe that wasn’t the best idea considering he was very clearly a large reason for her wanting to learn the spell to begin with.

She stays frozen in her seat for what felt like an eternity, unsure whether she wanted to break the silence or not. She took far too long to decide, because after a while, Gale emerged from the kitchen once again and breezed past her, heading straight for the stairs. She doesn’t dare turn to look, but she hears him pause on the first step for a moment before continuing to ascend the steps and retreat into his office for the day.

“Fucking hells,” she curses under her breath, her head falling into her hands as she releases an exasperated huff. Her shoulders began to ache from how tense she’d held them for the entire morning so far, but her muscles had no intent on relaxing any time soon.

“Language, Miss Heartspell,” Tara chides as she glides down onto the table from somewhere behind her. She jumps slightly, the sudden presence unexpected.

She sighs, placing a hand over her heart. “Tara. You scared the hells out of me,” she tries to steady her breathing. “I’m sorry.”

“What ails you this morning, friend? You look like you barely slept a wink.” The tressym observes, her large green eyes boring into her as she eyes her curiously and with slight concern.

Your wizard and his big dumb brown eyes and his stupidly beautiful hair and that godsdamned shirt—

“Just tired. Couldn’t sleep well last night.”

That was putting it very simply. She had barely slept more than a handful of hours, not nearly enough to be well rested enough to function through the day. She felt terrible, and it seemed that she looked the part as well, according to her small feathered friend.

“Would this have anything to do with Mr. Dekarios and his admittedly awful attitude?” she grunts, rolling her eyes and baring her teeth slightly. “He’s been incorrigible since yesterday evening.”

How to politely tell a grumpy tressym that you may or may not be the cause of her wizard’s ire— step one: don’t.

“Has he? I hadn’t noticed,” she remarks nonchalantly, the tiniest hint of sarcasm in her tone. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Tara scoffs, stretching her tiny body as far as she can and yawning, digging her claws into the placemat where Gale’s plate had been a few minutes prior. “Maybe he’s finally realized he needs to shave that wretched thing on his chin.”

She lets out a chuckle— though she rather loved his facial hair, for numerous reasons— she found Tara’s hatred for it endlessly amusing. She was constantly pestering him to shave or at the very least trim it, and likely he ignored her just to spite her. Their bond reminded her of a doting mother and her slightly rebellious but very respectful son. She’d raised him right. Her, and Morena, of course.

She hadn’t met his mother yet, only heard stories and small little details about her that he’d share. She seemed lovely, just based on what her son told her. Plus, any woman who could raise a man like Gale Dekarios had to be something special.

She wonders how many lovers he’d taken to meet her, if any had ever made it far enough for him to deem it appropriate to introduce them— she wonders what his criteria for such a thing would be.

“Tara? Can I ask you a question?” She asks, biting down on her lip nervously.

Tara stares back at her expectantly, awaiting her questioning.

“It’s a strange question… just— please, keep this between us, okay?” She begins, placing her elbow on the table and resting her cheek against her hand. “Has… has Gale ever been… married?”

Tara has to hold back a cackle, stopping herself before her amusement takes hold. “Oh, darling, no. Mr. Dekarios has had few friends, we’ll call them. Can hardly get the man’s nose out of his books, doesn’t typically fare well for his social life, much less his romantic life.”

She blinks rapidly in surprise, her eyes widening. It made sense, and no sense at all in the same vein. It seemed so strange, just considering who Gale was and the gentlemanly nature of him that he hadn’t had any long term loves. She would’ve imagined him to either have had several failed loves or only one very long term one— more likely the latter, she thought.

She nods. “Makes sense.” A lie.

Tara eyes her suspiciously, carefully strolling across the table to her. “Miss Heartspell, might I be so bold for just a moment, to ask you what that ninny upstairs seems to be too frightened to?”

She cocks an eyebrow up at her, sitting up straight in her chair. “What might that be?”

“Are you spoken for? Have you got someone waiting for you back in Rivington?” She asks, sitting perfectly prim and proper in front of her, her peridot irises catching her crystal blue ones in an intense gaze.

She pauses for a minute, the question having caught her more than off guard. “N-No, I don’t. I don’t exactly have the most successful social life, either.”

Tara’s eyes gleamed, seeming all too pleased and Elara could tell that if she could, she’d undoubtedly have a knowing smirk on her face.

“Hm. Fascinating.” Is all she says before prepping her wings to take flight, flapping them and stretching them gently. Before she can give any sort of response, Tara departs from the conversation and soars out of the open window, surely off to terrorize all the local gulls and pigeons. The mail couriers must wish to stuff her or turn her into stew at this point.

These two and the way they end conversations. Ugh.

Which reminds her— once again, ugh.

Last night could not have ended worse, aside from possibly being told to pack her belongings and leave— though she doubts that Gale would ever do that without warning.

She wanted to talk to Gale about everything— well, maybe not everything— but she had never really talked to anybody about her parents or what happened to them. Not even Alastor. It was a forbidden subject in that household as far as she was concerned. Too many emotions to sort through to pile onto someone else. Plus, she didn’t want to be treated differently, or viewed through different eyes that pitied her. It happened so many years ago, but the occasional nightmares made her feel as though it happened only the night prior.

Perhaps it would be nice— to talk to someone. Gale was easy to talk to. He listened so intently and he was always engaged, even if it were the most uninteresting conversation in the world. Perhaps that was why he was so well learned— he was an excellent listener.

It couldn’t hurt to try.

⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊⋆⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊⋆

The door to his study seemed so much more imposing when you were on the other side of it, with your knuckles primed to meet the sturdy wood and plead for entry.

He almost never shut his office door.

Perhaps now isn’t a good time.

She sighs quietly, her chin falling to rest on her chest and her gaze at the spot on the floor between her feet, defeated.

Perhaps another time.

She turns to head down the hall toward her bedroom, just as she hears the creaking of the office door behind her, opening.

She shifts slightly, peering over her shoulder and expecting to find a certain pair of brown eyes watching her as she creeps through the hall— only to find nothing. The door was slightly ajar, but no sight of the wizard within.

Curious, she takes a few cautious steps forward, careful to move quietly and mindfully. She stops just before she could peek in to see whether Gale was at his desk or not, using the door to shield herself from view— then she hears the sound of a strange whooshing from right on the other side of the door, to the opposite side of the room, likely where Gale sat. She raises her eyebrow, confusion written all over her face as she finally peeks in the room.

Gale is at his desk, where she half expected him to be, leaning against the back of his chair, his feet propped on a small stool next to him and a scroll in hand.

Normal.

Her eyes scan a little further to search for the source of the strange noise, finding nothing— until she hears it again, just before an icy blue flash of light soars across her vision in the shape of a disembodied hand.

A mage hand. She’d seen her uncle conjure one once before— only because he thought she wasn’t around and couldn’t see.

The spectral hand flew to the top of one of the large bookcases on the far end of the room, swiftly retrieving a book and bringing it back down and placing it on Gale’s desk. He sighs, running a hand down his face, then scratching against his beard as he places the scroll next to the newly acquired book.

She cranes her neck a little further, trying to watch as he commands the mage hand around, then loses her balance just enough to send her falling forward and into the room, crash landing into her hands and knees.

Gale jumps at the sound of her colliding with the ground, standing and leaning over his desk, worry in his eyes as he peers down at her.

“By Mystra’s mantle, are you alright?”

She sits up and rubs her hands sheepishly, the heels of them aching from the force of her contact with the hard wooden floor. “Sorry, I just— I was passing by, and I saw— I just… got curious. I apologize.”

Gale’s brows furrow as he looks around, searching for what was out of the ordinary that she was referring to. He disregards it for a moment as he rounds the side of his desk, briskly walking across the room to her side and offering her a hand up.

She looks up at him for a moment before accepting his offer, slipping her hand into his. He braces her with his other hand on her elbow and pulls her to her feet, holding her steady while she gets her bearings.

“Why don’t you always just— use that? Why do you ever have me help when you can just…” she trails off, motioning with her hands what appeared to be a conjuration.

His eyes widen slightly as he realizes what she was referring to, then motions the mage hand to come closer. “This— have you never seen a mage hand before? Has Alastor not conjured one in front of you before?”

She shakes her head. “I caught a glimpse of one once, but it was so fast I couldn’t tell what it was. My uncle rarely did magic around me, mostly just small spells here and there. I, myself, only know a few simple spells that I taught myself. Granted, I'm not very good at it, but they’ve come in handy at times.”

Gale hears Alastor in his head from the night he invited him over for that fateful dinner: perhaps Mr. Dekarios could pick up on your old man’s slack and actually teach you some damn magic.

“What a strange one, that old man is. Cryptic as ever. I’m not sure why I was under the impression that any of this was old news to you.” He says, motioning to the crystalline digits beside him, motioning for it to wiggle its fingers.

She shrugs, her eyes locked on the spell with a certain childlike wonder in her eyes that Gale couldn’t help but find most endearing. It reminded him of being young and awed by his own conjurations and manipulations of the weave and those of his professors at Blackstaff.

“Would you like to learn?” He asks her, snapping her from her daze and her eyes flying to his in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” Her voice is quiet, as if he’d just asked her the most scandalous of questions.

She had long abandoned the hope of learning even just the basics of wizardry, seeing as neither Gale, nor even Alastor in his letters, had ever mentioned it since the night they discussed this arrangement. She never asked, because the last thing she wanted to be was a bother to the man who so kindly took her in without a second thought. She never abandoned her desire to learn all together, though. That still lingered.

“I don’t see why not,” he drawls, stepping backward a few steps to allow her space to enter the room further. “Perhaps it’ll be helpful for us both. Besides, it’s been quite some time since I’ve had a willing and able pupil to impart my vast knowledge on.”

I could kiss you right now!

A grin paints itself across her face so wide that she fears it may crack, her eyes lit up and her hands clasped together in excitement. She realizes and quickly adjusts her behavior from juvenile enthusiasm to calm and collected curiosity, though she couldn’t entirely contain the smile on her face.

“I’d love to.” Was the tame iteration of what she wanted to say. Given the state of their relationship being somewhat cloudy and confusing at the moment, she rather not push her luck. This was an excellent excuse to get him to talk to her to make up for the painfully silent morning they shared just hours prior.

Not to mention, it gave her more untainted time with him before she decided to share with him her tales of woe of life as an orphan and being decidedly unpopular within her community back in Rivington. She was more than thankful for the distraction and redirection.

“Excellent!” He claps his hands together, a pleased smirk on his lips as he takes his glasses off and allows them to fall against his chest, hanging by the dainty golden chain attached to them that hung around his neck. “This one is a fairly easy spell to learn. I learned to conjure my first mage hand at the ripe age of seven. Drove my dear mother up the wall when she’d ask me to do my chores only to catch me lounging with my nose in a book while this fellow did all the heavy lifting.”

She chuckles, picturing a younger Gale getting into all sorts of mischief and being too smart for his own good and his poor mother trying desperately to keep up with him. She imagines that he has her eyes and her smile, despite never seeing her with her own eyes. It was just a feeling.

He motions for her to come closer, pointing to the spot just beside him for her to stand. She obliges, standing right where he’d indicated, turning to face the direction he was facing.

“You said that you know a few simple spells, yes?”

She nods.

“Excellent. Would you be able to demonstrate something for me?”

She looks at him with uncertainty for a pause, prompting him to nod and encourage her to try something simple, the look on his face purely that of a warm encouragement and devoid of all judgment.

Despite this, she still feels the swell of embarrassment before she even attempts the bare minimum spell that she knew— knowing that her talents were meager in comparison to his. She swallows hard and tries to steady herself, attempting to focus so the spell doesn’t go awry.

She moves her hands in a flourish that took much more effort than anything she’d ever seen Gale do, only to conjure a small flash of purple weave, sparks scintillating at her fingertips as the spell leaves her palm and quickly dissipates into the air. She frowns deeply, averting her gaze back to the ground between her feet.

“Please don’t laugh at me.” She groans, heaving a sigh as her cheeks and neck heat and tinge a bright pink.

“Hey,” he coos, crossing the space between them and tapping her chin with his fingertips to urge her face upward to meet his gaze. “I’ve seen novices do much worse than that even after an entire fortnight of study— nobody got hurt, in this case, which is fantastic. Once, during my time at Blackstaff, one of my classmates set the entire room ablaze while practicing simple incantations. I had to be the one to put it out as I was the only one that already knew how to conjure water.”

She tries in vain to bite back the smile threatening the corners of her lips, and allows a chuckle to pass through her as her eyes meet his. He brushes against her chin with his thumb a couple passes before pulling away. She’s still getting used to Gale’s sudden physicality— not that she would complain. Not even slightly.

Especially after the events of the evening prior, as she half expected him to be withdrawn entirely. She hoped he took note of the way she leaned ever so slightly into his touch. The way she savored it.

“I picture you as the perfect pupil to any professor. So bookish and attentive. You’re a scholar’s wet dream.” She jokes, poking his chest with featherlight jabs. He coughs at her crude remark, his eyes widening and his chest heaving as he attempts to regain composure. She’s full blown cackling now, causing his chuckles to join hers in harmony of the melodic sounds surging between them.

“Perhaps you should borrow a page from my book, then,” he jests as he gives her a lighthearted warning grimace, his earthly eyes glinting golden in the candlelight. “We’ve only just begun our lessons and you’ve already sassed your tutor.”

“My mistake, Professor Dekarios. I solemnly swear it won’t happen again,” she pauses, a devious smirk on her lips at the name that causes his face to flush at the sound of it. “Probably.”

He feels something stir within him at the sound of that name falling from her lips that he refuses to recognize, if only to spare himself from the embarrassment of having to explain his body’s impulse reaction to it. He clears his throat, and straightens himself.

“Alright, alright,” he huffs, leisurely beginning to roll his sleeves further up onto his forearms. “Focus is a key ingredient to this equation, which is clearly something we are lacking.”

She tries to tame the spark of mischief in her belly, deciding maybe it was best to be a better suited pupil to such esteemed talents as that of Gale of Waterdeep and hold off on any hijinks for the time being, despite how much she reveled in the sound of his laughter, so warm and genuine and real that it felt like being curled up within a thick wool blanket near a fire in the dead of winter.

It was a much welcome deviation from the despair he held in his graceful but strong features in the dim moonlight streaming through the window of her bedroom the night before.

Though, she couldn’t resist one last little quip just to get a rise out of him.

“Apologies. Continue, Professor.” She feigns innocence in her light eyes, rounding them and clasping her hands behind her back.

His face is unreadable, and she almost wonders if she actually managed to upset him with her playful remarks. Only when she notices him allow his tongue to dart out and wet his bottom lip does she consider something else— something that makes her blood feel like molten lava as it surges through her veins.

He clears his throat once again, suddenly feeling as though the room had risen several degrees in temperature, tiny beads of sweat forming on his back and neck.

“It’s a fairly simple spell, once you get the hang of it, it’ll be as simple as a flick of the wrist,” he explains, moving to stand beside her and demonstrate the spell. “I’ll show you.”

He steadies his posture, though the way in which he follows through with the spell seems effortless— as if he could’ve done it while in deep slumber. He whispers the cantrip softly, the Latin words dancing off of his expert tongue in a way that sends a shiver through her.

Focus, Elara.

A near impossible task when in his presence.

The spectral limb hovers before them, the air around it chilly and crackling with pure weave. She steps closer to it, in awe of the strange being. Could she even call it a being?

Gale smirks triumphantly, then commands the hand to float in a circle around her, her curious eyes following it as it flies past her vision. He halts its movements just in front of her, the palm facing her as an invitation. She lifts her hand tentatively, raising it until her palm is level with the nearly translucent one, her fingertips brushing those of the spell.

A chill flows through her as her skin makes contact with the specter, her hand jolting backwards at the sensation, only to return for further investigation. It was strange— something so impermanent and ethereal, yet, if it had been warmer, it would have felt like a real corporeal hand. She wondered if Gale could feel anything through the conjuration— if it worked as an extension of his own hand.

Curious.

“Would you like to try?” He asks, breaking her from her thoughts as her eyes snap back to his.

She nods, her gaze flitting back and forth between the wizard and the airborne hand before him. He dismisses it, the spell emitting an airy whoosh as it dissipates.

“Now, do as I do as closely as you can, and say ‘veni et iuva me’,” He instructs as he moves to stand just beside her, their shoulders mere inches apart. “Ready?”

With an affirmative nod, she watches him as he expertly demonstrates the spell, the weave appearing around his hands and fingertips in a violet crackling mist, as she’d seen it do before— it made sense why purple was his favorite color, now. It suited him.

In a flash, another hand appears, just as the one before. Crystalline and nearly translucent. He gives her an encouraging look, his smile easy and eager as he awaits her attempt at the spell.

She bites down on her bottom lip, then steadies her body and attempts to mimic Gale’s exact movements, then recites the incantation— and much to her surprise, another hand appears before them, glowing blue and bright.

Excitement fills her to the brim and she feels as though she might explode from pure childhood fulfillment induced delight. She looks at Gale with a giddy grin, giggling with sheer glee.

“I did it! I actually did it!” She cheers, still attempting to concentrate on the spell so it doesn’t dissolve.

Gale claps his hands together excitedly, beaming at her with pride. “Excellent! Now, think of exactly what you want it to do, where you want it to go, how you want it to move. Stay focused. You’ve got this.”

She feels a blush creep to her cheeks under his watchful eyes and his encouragement, but maintains her focus on the spell as she motions for it to move forward, toward one of the bookcases. She imagines the book she wants and knows exactly where it is— it was the thirteenth book from the right on the third shelf from the top. The hand effortlessly retrieves the book, then returns to her, presenting the book to her just as she’d seen it do for Gale.

She turns to Gale, tears brimming her eyes from pure joy and amazement at her own ability to pull off the spell. It was a simple spell, they both knew that, but for her this was the greatest accomplishment she’d ever achieved thus far, outside of the small spells she’d taught herself over the years.

Gale smiles at her warmly, his hands clasped behind his back. “Well done, Elara. You did wonderfully, especially as a novice. I’m quite impressed.”

She tries to contain the grin threatening to turn the corners of her lips, pressing them tightly together, but unable to mask the pure elation in her eyes, tears still pooling in her vision.

Before she can stop herself, she throws herself at the wizard, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly, burying her face into his chest. He grunts at the sudden contact, his body freezing in complete shock and his heart racing a million a second. After a moment of panic, he allows his hands to settle on her back, pulling her close to him and resting his chin on the top of her head.

Lavender. Gods, he adores the smell of lavender.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She whispers into the soft fabric of his shirt, her voice muffled as she presses herself further into him.

She pulls back slightly after a moment to look up at him, her still teary eyes meeting his, and he gives her a warm but reserved smile. Her eyes soften, her brows scrunching with concern. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, feigning ignorance. “Nothing at all. I’m— ah— I’m very happy to teach you more, if you’d like.”

She observes him for a moment, noting that something was on his mind that he wasn’t expressing. She frowns. “Gale?”

He sighs, pulling away from her completely and turning away, his hand running over his face in distress. The large study falls into a heavy silence for a few moments before he walks toward the large window where she often perched herself as he worked. He allows his hand to trail the spot where he has found her dozens of times before, gazing out at the seaside, the wind rustling her raven tresses like a tidal wave.

“Forgive me, I’m just feeling a bit under the weather today.” He resigns, rubbing his eyes with his finger and his thumb and then running a shaky hand through his hair.

She swears with how silent the room was, you'd have been able to hear her heart thumping away in her chest as if it were a war drum.

Here it goes.

“Is this… about last night?” Her voice is meek and timid when she asks, catching her bottom lip between her teeth nervously.

Gale keeps his back to her, and she can see the muscles in his shoulders and back tense at her query, as if he was bracing for a blow at any second.

“I… it’s nothing, Elara. I’m quite alright.” His voice is curt but still holds the ardor toward her that it always did when he spoke to her— he was warm to everyone he met, but there was a specific tone he used when he spoke to her. She had only begun to notice it in the last few days, and she feared the day that it went away.

“Gale,” She pleads, stepping forward and placing a hand on his arm. He tenses further under her delicate hand. “I’m so sorry. I owe you an explanation. I should’ve never—”

He spins to face her briskly, his expression hard, betraying the way his dark eyes twinkled as he looked at her. “You don’t owe me anything, Elara. I should have never crossed any of the lines that I’ve crossed, and my behavior is inexcusable. Deplorable. You needn’t apologize for a thing.”

Her hand still lingers on him, now having moved to his chest after he’d shifted to face her. She stares at how small and frail her hand looked against his solid frame. She closes her eyes, honing in on the feeling of his chest against her palm as it rises and falls rapidly with his breathing. She can feel his heartbeat. She wished he could feel hers as well. She wonders if he could hear it like she feared he could.

“Elara…” Broken. Torn. The only words capable of describing the man’s voice as he squirms under her touch, unsure whether to move away or lean into it. What he wanted and what he felt was right to do were at complete odds, as they always seemed to be as of late.

“I never drew any lines, Gale.”

His eyes widened. Had he heard her right? Surely, he was mishearing. Perhaps he should have his ears checked soon. Or perhaps he’d finally started to lose it.

One too many romance tomes.

“What did you—”

“You can’t cross a line that was never drawn to begin with.” She grips at the fabric of his shirt, finally opening her own eyes to find the utter shock in his.

He shakes his head, his mouth opening and closing several times as his mind attempts to formulate a coherent sentence that wouldn’t just come out as complete nonsense.

“Please,” she sighs, her mind at war within itself as she fights to find the right words to convey it all properly. If any even existed. “You must stop making assumptions about the way I feel before I have the chance to sort through them myself.”

He looks visibly shaken, as realization hits him once her words sink in. “Are you saying—”

“I don’t know if I have the right words to explain, right now,” she admits. “What I do know is that I don’t need you to decide how I feel for me. Especially how I feel towards you.”

How I feel for you, she wanted to say.

The hand that had been gripping his shirt slowly begins to fall, but is swiftly caught against the hard planes of his stomach with a strong hand, holding it gently as if it may break and shatter from the slightest touch but firm so as to keep it there, at all costs.

His eyes bore into hers, the intensity in them something that shook her to her core. She had to look away.

“Elara,” he breathes, the sound equal parts desperate and hopeful. He adjusts her hand so that it’s flat against his stomach, and drags it to the left side of his chest, pressing her palm into it. “Do you feel it?”

The rhythm against her palm is rapid and thunderous, the feel of his chest is solid and strong and she can hardly breathe. She nods, while attempting to remember to take air into her lungs and release it back out, then repeat.

He leans his face down closer to hers, his voice low and husky as he whispers to her, “I hope this tells you everything you need to know.”

Her mouth parts and she sucks in a sharp breath. She feels as though her entire body had become nothing more than a melty mass of human goo under his gaze and his touch and what he’s saying without saying it directly— is this a dream? Was she dreaming?

How did this encounter begin with him scooping her off of the floor after her face planting into it, only to land here, with his heart against her palm and his lips so close, too close once again?

It was like Deja vu— the way their faces drifted closer to each other as if some invisible force were pushing them together, just as they had less than twenty four hours prior. It was familiar and yet so new, an entirely new rush of energy and emotion charging them this time.

She feels one of his hands move to rest against the side of her neck, his fingers tilting her jaw upward as he dives in, his nose brushing hers and their breaths intermingling. Her eyes flutter closed as she prepares for the feeling of his lips against hers, only to feel nothing but his thumb dragging across her bottom lip.

Her eyes shoot open, her brows furrowed in confusion and a hint of frustration. His eyes flit back and forth between hers, searching for something, anything, that would tell him to stop. “Is this what you want?”

A sound akin to a whine or a groan leaves her lips before she can stop it. She chokes on the word yes before she can even utter it, so instead she nods desperately.

Not a second is wasted before lips are entwined and tongues are tangled— one of his hands moves to grip her waist and pull her body against his, the fullness of her chest pressing against his solid one causing him to break the kiss to suck in a sharp breath and moan slightly, the sound low and rumbling in his ribs. She catches the muffled sounds within the kiss, drinking them in and savoring them as if they were the finest wine she’d ever tasted.

It all feels so surreal. He feels surreal. As if maybe she’d never woken up this morning and this was all some incredibly vivid dream that she never hoped to wake from. It would make sense— this wouldn’t be the first time Gale had invaded her dreams and she was certain it wouldn’t be the last either.

The tips of his fingers dig into the plush flesh at her hips, his other hand moving to caress the back of her head and lacing his fingers through the dark tresses at the nape of her neck. Heaven. This is heaven.

She feels him beginning to walk her backward, unaware of the direction until she feels the edge of his large mahogany desk bump into her lower back and she almost hisses in pain, but swallows it before she can. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered past his lips and his body and his heart still steadily beating against her palm.

All too soon, he breaks away from the kiss, his eyes wild with lust but a bit of trepidation that sets her on edge. “What is it?”

Gale’s chest heaves with concerted effort as he looks at her, his hands still at her hips and his body still pressed firmly to hers. He takes in a shaky breath as if it pained him to do so. “I just— gods, I want to do this. More than you can possibly imagine,” he starts, his words coming out in whimpered and hushed tones that set her entire body ablaze, even more so than it already had been.

“But…” she continues for him.

He clasps his eyes shut tight, the little lines between his brows deepening and becoming more prominent. She ignores the urge to smooth them out with her thumb. “I’d like to know more about you as a person before I get to know you as a woman, if that makes sense.”

She’s unable to contain the chuckle that escapes her lips at his gentlemanly attempt at being coy, rather than laying it out in blunt terms as she likely would have. He softens at the sight of her smile, his shoulders relaxing and sagging in relief.

“Are you saying you’d like to court me before taking me to bed?” She asks, amusement in her tone as she playfully pokes his nose which scrunches at her teasing.

He catches her wrist in his hand and places a kiss to the soft skin at the heel of her palm. “Ideally, if it’s amenable to you.”

That would be putting it incredibly mildly.

She studies his face— as she’d done a million times before— she’d seen him disheveled from sleep or stress as he studied a particularly convoluted subject, his hair mussed and messy and his lips pressed into a hard line, his eyes weary and half open. She’d thought it strange how even in what would be considered one’s worst state, he looked exquisite and refined, still with that same air of elegance and grace about him that he had at his very best when he was in his robes and confidently discussing a topic that interested him.

But this state of disrepair was something else entirely.

His eyes were heavily lidded but not from exhaustion, the dark umber pools of his irises swimming with desire and need. His lips were visibly swollen as they peeked out from behind the thick bushel of hair that covered his chin and upper lip, still glossy from her as evidence of their kiss. His shirt crumpled and creased where her fingers had gripped the fabric tightly in her fist. He looked completely undone, and it was her that had been his undoing.

Gods, have mercy. It’s a wonder that she hadn’t jumped his bones at the sight alone, she thinks.

“What? Is something wrong?” He asks, his voice breaking her from her reverie and snapping her out of the myriad of filthy thoughts that had been rushing through her lust laden mind.

She shakes her head, partially in response to him and partially in attempts to ground herself. “Nothing else in my life has felt quite as right as it does right now.” She admits.

It was the truth. Not much had felt right in her life up to this point— something always felt off, like there was a missing piece to the puzzle that was her life that had been missing for as long as she could remember.

This was as close to feeling whole as she had ever felt in her life.

Though, there were still two missing pieces. But she had accepted long ago that they would never return. A bitter truth, but a truth nonetheless.

He looks as though she’d just told him the best news he’d ever received, elation writ large upon his face as a wide grin splays across his lips. “Well, in that case,” He pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her just enough to where only her toes were still touching the ground, eliciting a giggle from her that only makes his smile grow wider. “Would you possibly have the time to share a glass of wine and a lovely candlelit dinner with me this evening?”

Her cheeks had begun to ache from smiling at this point, but she couldn’t contain it. Nor did she desire to.

“I think I’d be amenable to that.”

tags: @goddess-bound @mirandpeglell @celestialowlbear 🩷 (thank u guys for ur love I hope u like this chapter!!!!)

this is part three of a series - ✧ (ch 1) ✧ (ch 2)

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vettelinyourarea · 11 months

Text

oceans and engines - charles leclerc

genre: angst

warning: english is not my first language

word count: 1,090

inspired by oceans and engines by niki

notes: hehe feeling kinda angsty today, i’ve been wanting to write a fict based on oceans and engines for a while so i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoy writing it! also, requests are open 🩵

feel free to give me any feedback

Saturday sunset

We're lying on my bed with five hours to go

Fingers entwined and so were our minds

Cryin', "I don't want you to go"

You wiped away your tears

But not fears under the still and clear indigo

You said, "Baby, don't cry, we'll be fine”

You're the one thing I swear I can't outgrow

“Do you really have to go?” you asked, trying your best to not cry. It was a Saturday afternoon, only a few hours before Charles have to fly to the first race of the season. You have been with him since he started his Formula 2 career until now when he’s racing in Formula 1 for the team he has been dreaming about since he was just a child.

“I’m sorry my love, I wish you can go with me too,” he said as he wiped away your tears. You have experienced this before, but still, it doesn’t get easier for you being away from him. But that day feels different, something feels different.

A lot of people said you and Charles are soulmates, and you two believe that, firmly. But these past couple of months haven’t been easy for you two, especially for Charles, and it’s ultimately affecting your relationship. But neither of you wants to address that, the two of you always pretend everything is fine, always pretending that your relationship is perfect.

But the two of you knew since that day, that it’s far from perfect.

My mother said the younger me was a pretending prodigy

Well, nothing then, much has changed

'Cause while you're wolfin' down liquor

My soul, it gets sicker

But I'm stickin' to the screenplay

Gotta say I'm okay, but answer this, babe

“How are you?” he asked from the phone, loud music could be heard and you knew immediately that he was partying, probably with his driver friends. The race weekend just ended, and it was routine for the drivers to end it with partying at a nearby club.

“I’m okay, just doing my assignments,” you said, trying to hide your cry. You can’t lie to yourself anymore, it’s too much for you. The relationship you have with Charles is not the same as before, you knew that deep down, but have only accepted the truth just now.

Being away from Charles is difficult, but you knew that was one of the risks for dating a Formula 1 driver, still, it doesn’t make it any easier. You are happy for him, truly. You are proud of Charles for doing what he loves, but are you doing what you love? Is dating Charles only holding you back?

“You sure, love?” he asked after a few moments, sensing your emotions.

“Yes, you go have fun. I’m okay.”

And just like that, you end the call, leaving Charles confused.

How is it now that somehow you're a strangеr?

You were mine just yеsterday

I pray the block in my airway dissipates

And instead deters your airplane's way

But heaven denied

Destiny decried

Something beautiful died

Too soon

“I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore,” you said to him, not daring to look straight into his eyes. It was one of the most difficult things you have ever done, the other thing was accepting the fact that you can’t be with Charles anymore. Not like this.

“But, why? Did I do something that hurt you?” he asked, trying to hold your hand but you pulled away, hurt is evident in his tone.

It was a sunny day, a rare day off for Charles. It hurts you to tell him this, to end things with him. But it has to be said, it has to be done. For your sake, and for Charles’s. You knew he sensed things are different now since he come back on the last season’s winter break, and you knew he refused to acknowledge it, to accept it.

Being in a relationship from a young age is not easy, but ending it was certainly harder.

“I love you Charles, but things are different now and you know it. We can’t be together anymore,” you said, finally giving up and deciding to look up to him. It was the worst mistake you’ve made. Seeing him like this, red-eyed, tears in his eyes fighting to come out. But you know this is for the best, for you and for him.

You knew the moment he nods his head, something beautiful had died, something in you had shifted.

But I'm letting go

I'm givin' up the ghost

But don't get me wrong

I'll always love you, that's why

I wrote you this very last song

Turns out, trying to move on from him was harder than the breaking up part. You tried and you tried to let him go, but you just can’t. Everything in you is screaming to just forget him, but it is easier said than done. Still being in contact with him certainly doesn’t help, and you knew that. You knew that in order to completely move on from him, you have to cut him out, at least for a while.

“Why can’t you just block him?” your friend asked you. You tried blocking him, you really did, but it was hard. Having spent most of your life with him and now you have to cut him out from your life for a while is not easy.

But one night, your mind is set. You have to let him go and he has to let you go. You have to move on with your life and forget him completely. So, you did it. You block him, but not before leaving him a message. A message that little do you know, makes Charles cry his eyes out.

Thank you for everything Charles, but I’m letting you go, and this is my last message for you. I loved you.

I guess this is where we say goodbye

I know I'll be alright

Someday I'll be fine

But just not tonight

It’s not easy for you. It was never easy to forget someone you grew up with. And it’s okay, you know you don’t have to be alright. You knew this is the best decision you can make. But that doesn’t mean you regret your relationship with him, no, you are thankful for the past 6 years you have with him. You will always cherish the memories you made with him.

You know that you will be fine eventually, but just not tonight.

#f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 angst #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 angst #vettelinyourarea

301 notes · View notes

bunnywip · 5 months

Text

𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿𝙎 𝙏𝙊 𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙍𝙄𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙇𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙎

— PURPLE

Mauve.

Violet.

Lilac.

Magenta.

Plum.

Royal.

Lavender.

Grape.

Periwinkle.

Sangria.

Jam.

Heather.

Noble.

Berry.

Mulberry.

Orchid.

Amethyst.

Wine.

— BLUE

Navy.

Sky.

Turquoise.

Indigo.

Slate.

Deep.

Prussian.

Teal.

Ocean.

Peacock.

Cyan.

Azure.

Artic.

Sapphire.

Diamond.

Royal.

Ultramarine.

Aqua.

— GREEN

Pistachio.

Juniper.

Grass.

Parakeet.

Leaf.

Pine.

Basil.

Herb.

Lime.

Sage.

Chartreuse.

Fern.

Olive.

Emerald.

Shamrock.

Seafoam.

Moss.

Pear.

Mint.

— YELLOW

Canary.

Gold.

Daffodil.

Seed.

Lemon.

Butter.

Yolk.

Mustard.

Corn.

Bumblebee.

Sunny.

Honey.

Amber.

Blonde.

Banana.

Medallion.

Dandelion.

Platinum.

Buttscotch.

Dandelion.

Sunflower.

Saffron.

Dijon.

Fire.

— ORANGE

Yam.

Marigold.

Rust.

Clay.

Spiced.

Tiger.

Ginger.

Sandstone.

Apricot.

Carrot.

Amber.

Bronze.

Honey.

— PINK

Blush.

Coral.

Rosewood.

Lemonade.

Marshmallow.

Hot.

Magenta.

Bubblegum.

Fuchsia.

Rose.

Salmon.

Roseate.

Glowing.

Reddened.

Sanguine.

Peach.

Strawberry.

Punch.

Watermelon.

Flamingo.

Berry.

Rouge.

— WHITE

Milky.

Alabaster.

Pearly.

Cotton

Chiffon.

Egg-shell.

Bridal.

Snowy.

Bright.

Porcelain.

Chalky.

Creamy.

Ivory.

Empty.

Frosted.

Pale.

Lace.

Salt.

Coconut.

Silvery.

Tooth.

Daisy.

Porcelain.

Achromatic.

Delicate.

Fresh.

Bone.

Innocent.

— BLACK

Ebony.

Sable.

Crow.

Charcoal.

Grease.

Raven.

Midnight.

Pitch.

Dusky.

Inky.

Solemn.

Onyx.

Soot.

Jet.

Leather.

Obsidian.

Murky.

Cloudy.

— RED

Cherry.

Jam.

Sanguine.

Apple.

Rose.

Ruby.

Burgundy.

Maroon.

Crimson.

Merlot.

Scarlet.

Wine.

Brick.

Berry.

Blood.

Sangria.

Candy.

Blush.

Evil.

Imperial.

Ferrari.

Raspberry.

Carmine.

Chilli.

#writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #colours #writing tips

67 notes · View notes

luminitewrites · 1 year

Text

Nova

Rating: T Word Count: ~5,700 Warnings: Brief memories of/current trauma from being swallowed alive, brief contemplation of death and what lies beyond

So after seeing the absolutely stunning art that @themeeplord posted of Naff's leviathan!Eclipse and fisher!Y/N, there's no way I could pass up writing a small something for it. I might have made Eclipse a tad bigger in this drabble purely for size difference purposes, but Meep's depiction of them is the inspiration for this piece. (I hope you don't mind the tag, Meep! ;w;) This drabble is based off of @naffeclipse's In Deep Dreams Between the Waves (so very highly recommend!!) and set sometime after it, so there will be allusions to spoilers herein.

Enjoy!

~~~

The siren call of the ocean lulls your boat as much as it does you. Out here in the vast expanse of endless water where sea merges with ocean, the gentle stirring of the morning sun has yet to reach full wakefulness, casting the sky in a beautiful watercolor of lush indigos and mellow purples. The breeze caressing your face tells you it will be a hot day, but for now, it’s a welcomed brush against your skin.

You’ve opted for a less-bundled-up attire since you know what and who awaits you shortly. The loose t-shirt flutters at your back, and your light shorts and bare feet bask in the open, salty air. Curling your toes in excitement, you cannot help the enchanted smile that has yet to leave your face. You’ve been looking forward to today as the rough weather in recent weeks has kept you from seeing your friend. Well, it probably wouldn’t have completely kept you at bay were it not for said friend being very insistent about you staying home to wait out the hurricane. Something about being safe and warm and taking care of your health. Complete bogus, if anyone were to ask you.

But, of course, Eclipse always has other ideas about what’s best for you, and after much bartering in your dreams and getting nowhere, you’d caved to his utterly ridiculous demands. The oversized mer has a habit of being just as obstinate as you. You’d once thought you could outmatch his stubbornness, but turns out, it’s hard to say no when his big eyes turn soft and pleading, like you’re breaking his heart by even considering stepping foot outside during a nasty storm. Never mind that it’d been because you’d wanted to see him. He’d been adamant that the visits in your dreams could sate your loneliness in the meantime.

Needless to say, you’ve been chomping at the bit to get out. The hurricane had been circling your little island like a harrowing shadow for over a week, but it finally began tapering off yesterday, and by nightfall, Eclipse gave you his reluctant approval to come out the following day.

He probably didn’t mean that as an excuse for you to sacrifice sleep and slip out before the break of dawn, but he almost certainly knew that without you needing to say anything suggestive of it last night. The memory of his narrowed gaze and disapproving pout still makes you chuckle even now, and you can only imagine that same expression on his face when he sees you out here.

You’ve already dropped anchor and settled at the edge of your boat with your legs dangling over it and your arms propped atop the railing. The breeze ruffles your hair as it pleases, and it tickles your ears while you hum to yourself a gentle tune. It’s a unique one that transcends time and the waves themselves, flowing from within your chest and playing a soothing chord that first tugs softly and then a little firmer.

When your voice starts to rouse and the first few notes whisper past your lips, an answering echo from far, far below sounds beneath your feet and travels across the ocean floor.

Instantaneous is the grin tugging at your cheeks, and you beam at the way the wind suddenly billows in a different direction and sends your trusty flag flapping like a resounding applause. Your Rustbucket II bobs up and down as the water begins to turn choppy, creating a thrill of a ride as you eagerly peer down into the inky blue.

As bubbles form below, you dismiss what most sailors would consider an omen and instead lean over the railing as much as you can while sitting. Your legs swish happily, your skin prickling when a shiver courses through you. To your surprise, however, the bubbles stop after a few suspenseful seconds. A flash of a large shadow is all you catch sight of, but your friend doesn’t surface as you’d expected. Confused, you wait a moment more and then pull your legs under you and stand up so that you can lean over the railing as far as you can without falling in.

“Eclipse?” you call out. Your head tilts to the side while you listen.

Nothing but ocean responds.

A frown replaces your smile, and you wonder if something has temporarily distracted the mer, and he’s swimming off to go chase a giant squid or something similar. Before you can settle back down and wait for him to return, a colossal burst thunders behind you without warning and rocks your boat. Gasping, you have all but a moment to spin on your heel as Eclipse breaches in a swift motion that sends a terrific cascade of water directly down onto your boat and consequently you.

In mere seconds, you are entirely drenched in seawater and sputtering.

Soaked hair draped over and blinding you, you sigh loudly and brush it out of your face. Far, far above, your friend gazes down with a textbook version of glee. As soon as he sees your expression, a harmonious warble not unlike a laugh rumbles from his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” you say in faux exasperation while wringing the water out of your hair. “Not like you haven’t done this before.”

The mer lowers in the water until his head is level with you, ray-like frills flicking, and your bond tells you exactly what he’s thinking, as if he were saying the words aloud.

And yet, you still fall for it every time.

You roll your eyes, and Eclipse chitters his delight.

“I guess it’s not like I wasn’t going to get wet anyways,” you huff in defeat.

Deciding it’s a lost cause to drain the water from your dripping clothes, you trudge over to him instead, making sure to step carefully through the large puddles. Yellow overlaid by impenetrable black oversees your maneuvering to be certain you reach the other side safely. Once you’re within reach, Eclipse leans in a little more, allowing you to rest your small hand against his large head and press a kiss between his eyes despite the little trick he pulled on you.

You watch the sharp yellow disappear as he basks in your affection and croons an unmistakably happy song. It’s enough to warrant the return of your smile.

“Good morning, big guy,” you say against his wet scales. “Missed you.”

The sentiment is returned tenfold through your bond, staggering in its sincerity, and Eclipse’s love threatens to reduce you to a puddle. The companionship with the leviathan has altered you in ways you could have never dreamed of, making you forever grateful for the day you discovered and helped him when he was but a little fish. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world because a life without Eclipse is one you can’t fathom. He means everything to you.

As your thoughts shift, Eclipse hears them just as if you’d spoken, and a low sound purrs from his throat. He nuzzles you with utmost gentleness, and you press as close to him as you can.

Yeah, you missed this. Shared dreams are one thing, but having him here with you in the flesh is incomparable. It’s your lifeblood.

When you pull back, the leviathan peers at you again. His expression is so compassionate that it sets your heart soaring like you are a fish in the sea swimming alongside him. The excursions you’ve had with him in the deep blue aren’t too far from that feeling, and it’s set in the very plans you have for later today. You intend to spend as much time as you can with the mer, and that means taking a hearty swim with his current guiding you along.

However, whatever soft moment you’re sharing now is wholly ruined when Eclipse chooses then to open his mouth and drag his serpentine tongue all the way up your front.

You yelp at the unexpected lick, and very swiftly, you are drenched in more than just water.

“Eclipse!” you cry in dismay.

Orange and red frills flutter in contentment. There is no remorse on the other’s face.

“Now I’m covered in gross saliva!” you further protest to express just how disgruntled you are. You shake your hands, and two wet globs fling off.

Eclipse churrs and clicks unhelpfully. It’s a bit similar to the squeaks of a dolphin, and after a fruitless attempt to wipe your face as best as you can, you glower up at your talkative friend.

He seems to be cycling through a whole host of expressions today because the one staring you down is now unquestionably smug.

You snort at the little—large—devil.

“Just what was that for anyways?”

The mer considers for a moment and then tilts his head to the side a little, eyelids falling low like he’s miming sleep. Then, a massive hand lifts out of the water to gently poke a long claw at you, followed by a throaty grumble that shakes your boat.

Ah. So that’s what this is about, huh. Should’ve known skipping out on sleep would come back to bite, or rather, lick you. You can’t say you didn’t see this coming.

“I promise I got enough sleep all through that nasty hurricane,” you counter adamantly. Eclipse looks far from convinced, so you continue on. “Even still, I have a cabin I can always dip inside for a quick nap if need be. Or you can float on your back and snooze with me on top like we usually do. We have the whole day to ourselves, big guy. And besides, I thought you missed me.”

Eclipse releases another series of noises at that, which are just plain mournful, and the flood of insistent reassurance and concern makes you huff and smile.

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing. I think I’m allowed to since I’m currently covered in…” You sniff and then grimace. “Overwhelming fish breath and questionable fluids.”

More snaps and clicks, but none of them are truly offended. Eclipse matches your fake glare easily, and when you playfully stick out your tongue, his mouth curls with a croon, and he slithers his own tongue back out again.

You hastily retreat, hands lifting.

“Woah, there! Okay, message received. Put that thing back where it came from, or so help me, I’ll turn this boat around.”

Your friend blows out a warm gust of air that just heightens the sticky feeling all over your body, and your arms drop as the mer retracts his appendage with rampant amusement. Clearly, your threat was too transparent to be taken with any modicum of seriousness. Not that you expected Eclipse to believe it for a second anyways. He knows just how much you’ve been aching to see him, and even without the words to verbalize it, he’s showing how much he’s missed you too. You haven’t missed the little display of the fins and frills around his head upon his arrival. They’ve been fluttering since you first spoke, a subtle indicator of your friend’s elated state.

Maybe it’s in a sign of good faith or repentance, but Eclipse gingerly rests a large hand palm-up on your boat right next to you. An offer. You consider the translucent webbing between the smooth surface of his digits like it houses a tremendously difficult question you don’t already know the answer to. A few moments you spend hemming and hawing in exaggeration, and to his credit, Eclipse waits patiently—hopefully—for you to hop on, the ocean churning noticeably from the swishing of his powerful tail.

You give a plaintive sigh.

“I suppose I can acquiesce this one request,” you say, snickering at the uncontrollable, excited thumping against the side of your boat from Eclipse’s fins.

He eagerly curls and uncurls his fingers as you step around the sprawled drape of the scarlet frills that adorn his wrist, planting your hands first on his palm and then crawling across until you’re seated in the middle. You’ve learned from experience that it’s best to remain off your feet when being lifted if you want to retain your balance. Eclipse will never let you fall and would almost certainly help you to remain standing if you wobbled, but sitting down for the little ride grants you a bit more stability.

With the utmost care, the mer hoists you out of your boat and over to him. He nuzzles you once more with a soft coo, and then he lowers into the water until only his head and the hand you rest upon aren’t submerged.

You smile up at him.

“Thanks, big guy, but I’m already wet, so I might as well wash this off.”

Eclipse churrs and sinks a little deeper so that the water just laps over his palm. You pat him in appreciation, and he curiously watches as you begin to cup the ocean in your hands and rinse your face and then scrub at your body.

It doesn’t take long to get to a somewhat reasonably clean state again, though you doubt anything in Eclipse’s saliva would be truly harmful to you. The pungent smell, however, might be downright criminal, and that’s saying something because you’ve been around fish for years. But at the end of the day, it’s worth it because it’s still part of your friend, and you wouldn’t change anything about him.

Once the sticky substance has washed away, you lean back on your hands, and Eclipse’s large fingers press protectively at your back. His contentment is visible in the shine of glowing yellow and the peaceful glaze of his languid movements. He floats in place next to your boat with the waves barely disturbing him. The magnitude of his size strikes you yet again despite how much time you’ve spent at his side all these years. Maybe the separation brought on by the storm afflicted your memory of his stature, but you don’t mind the awe that fills you at the leviathan or how small you suddenly feel in his grasp.

You’ve never been safer in the claws of a mer, and that will never fail to warm your heart.

Eclipse trills at the emotions shared through your bond, and with a melted expression, he draws you closer. You are gently deposited atop his chest, and once you’re sure of your footing, you approach his beaming maw. The mer meets you halfway, and when your arms embrace him as much as they can, he releases a slow breath that chases away any chill from the water.

Together, you stay like that in the quiet stillness of dawn, the first cracks of light just kissing the horizon. The world is waking up once more, and you have been given the best greeting of all. After days of restlessness and anxiety and longing, your mind is finally at ease. It’s a serenity that touches your soul, mirroring the same peace from your friend.

Sometimes, a shadow of a terrible memory graces your consciousness, and phantoms of ghastly yellow and purple snap at you. Those awful, living nightmares have grown less obtrusive as the months have passed, fading ever steadily with the more time you spend on the waves with Eclipse. You know you are safe now. There are some things that take more than reassurance to overcome, however, set off by triggers that you’re still learning to pinpoint, but with time and exposure to the sea that is a second home to you, the initial flinching and brief bursts of fright will diminish.

Eclipse’s presence has been grounding all the while. He’s stuck with you through every crest and trough, understanding your inner turmoil better than any explanation you could try to come up with. He’s felt your fear and pain and determined that it’s now his to bear as well if it means it will bring you comfort and recovery sooner. The memories are no less horrible for him too, and you occasionally catch a glimpse of his remembrance of prying apart serrated jaws and reaching for your frantic form.

It’s a shared burden between the two of you. You will see it through together.

A shiver that can’t be blamed on the breeze travels through your body.

Sensing the direction of your thoughts, Eclipse curls his webbed hand even more so around your comparatively smaller frame, like he’s letting you know that he won’t ever let anything take you away from him again. A quiet purr vibrates from his chest, and he nudges you with his cheek until you look up at him again. His scales are creased with worry, but you pet one of his claws to reassure him.

“I’m alright, big guy. I’ve got you here, don’t I?”

Better words couldn’t have been chosen as your leviathan chitters in agreement. The sound soothes the worries of your mind, chased by the fearsome predator who has become your protector. You enjoy the intimate moment with him and the heart-skipping way he stares at you leaning into his grasp.

But that’s all abruptly broken by a thunderous growl that shakes through your feet.

In an instant, Eclipse looks mightily embarrassed, and you flash a grin.

“Someone’s hungry,” you tease, tapping your foot to indicate the petulant thrum that had come from his stomach further down.

The mer shakes water off his frills like a dog, sniffing the air and frowning before his pupils constrict, and his head snaps downward and off to the side at the water. It would seem he’s already locked on to a potential prey. You wonder if he’s about to tear off in the direction of said prey, but Eclipse tips his head back over at you, frills twitching with anticipation. He then taps the tip of a finger at your stomach in question.

You do your best to keep your smile from twisting.

“Not quite a fan of eating raw fish, thanks. This one’s all you, buddy.”

Eclipse emits a distinct whine at your refusal, rays drooping.

“I’ll eat later, promise. It’s still early for breakfast anyways. But I guess I could always just take a chomp out of you if you want me to eat fish so bad, huh?”

Three rapid clacks of sharp teeth are your answer, Eclipse pretending to snap them at you instead like maybe he’ll take a nibble out of you, and you giggle at the fake threat. He squints at you, supposedly very intimidating, you’re sure. His fins flap against the surface of his water much like his tail, and the loud whoosh of air from his gills sounds like a heavy sigh.

“Adorable,” you remark, and Eclipse puffs, his ray-like frills expanding like an orange peacock. “Yes, yes, you’re very big and scary. Now go catch your breakfast, you oversized guppy.”

An aggrieved grumble from the mer shakes through your body, and Eclipse sinks into the deep, pausing long enough to make sure you’re treading water easily enough on your own once you’re submerged.

You give him a little wave, legs swishing beneath you, and a flash of warmth stirs in your chest in response from him.

The giant mer disappears from sight rather quickly, likely sensing the direction his prey has swam off to. He won’t be gone long. You’re confident in his hunting abilities, and the only times it takes awhile are when he’s feeling playful and turning it into a game.

Without the support of your friend to keep you afloat, you paddle over to your boat to conserve your energy. A quick climb up your ladder, and you’re aboard once more and perusing the still water-logged floor with a shake of your head. Your mild disapproval is countered by a sense of indignation within your core from the mer far below.

Not my fault.

Even when he’s focused on hunting, he’s always got to get his two cents in. You snort and step across the slick surface into your cabin.

While food isn’t exactly on your mind right now, you do find something special in sharing a meal together, so you decide to rummage through your kitchenette for a small snack. There are some granola bars you’ve stashed in a cabinet exactly for this reason, so after snagging one, tearing off the wrapper, and disposing the trash in the bin so you won’t have to worry about it later, you shuffle back outside.

The sun is still in its infancy, but the thin streams of light are already casting a new layer of warmth. The streaks of burnt orange remind you of your beloved mer, rippling across the darkly painted sky. Minutes trickle by with nothing but nature for miles, allowing your thoughts to meander. As you take in its beauty, you’re reminded of its resilience and how it will continue to exist long after you’ve passed. The sun will continue to rise and set; the waves will continue to crash and roll and traverse the world. It makes you wonder, head tipping up to admire the stars, what it will be like one day when your and Eclipse’s time comes to an end. There is assurance in that you will go together, bound so intrinsically as mer and human. Such an occurrence is far down in the future, barely conceivable when you have so much life left to live with Eclipse, but as you stand under the starlight’s ever watchful gaze, you muse quietly.

Will you trade a life on the water for an eternity in the stars? Will the galaxies become your new waves, the constellations your new islands? What will it be like to explore the great expanse that rivals even your tremendous ocean?

Your vision shuts to the ethereal light, and you feel the answer in your soul that returns from the leviathan himself.

Harmony. It will be harmony, entwined with you and him forever singing that sweet song that ties you in scarlet thread.

Smile warmer than the sleepy sun, you’re not at all surprised when you hear a splash and open your eyes to see your close friend next to your boat again, waiting patiently for you to emerge from being lost in thought. His tender love is palpable, resonating from deep within your chest and guiding you over to him. As you near, you notice the edge of a tail fin poking out of his maw, and a snicker escapes you.

“Breakfast was successful, I take it?”

Eclipse hums and then in a perfectly unnecessary act opens his mouth to show you just how big of a catch he got. His rows of teeth have expertly speared the swordfish, and while impressive, you know why he’s showing off.

You hold up a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, still not happening.” You wave your granola bar under Eclipse’s dissatisfied scrutiny when he seals his maw shut in suspicion. “I found something else to munch on instead. Extra nutritious. You want some?”

Eclipse hisses like you personally offended him, and you bite back a laugh as you break off a piece of your snack and toss it in your mouth. Last time you tried to feed him some of your “nasty human food,” he wheezed and spat out the microscopic morsel and then proceeded to drag his claws against his tongue like you’d terrorized his tastebuds. He’s so goofily dramatic when it comes to most of your meals and snacks that don’t involve seafood, and he plays it up extra just for you because you adore his theatrics. You know as much because you’d asked him once why he’d reacted that way, and he’d answered with a photographic memory of your face flushed from laughter and your arms clutching your stomach from a time not too long prior.

Needless to say, your cheeks had immediately turned hot yet again, that time for a different reason, and you’d tried and failed to brush off Eclipse’s endeared cooing at your fluster.

He’s such a rascal. Wily prankster of a mer. You more than cherish him.

Taking another bite of your snack, you lean against the railing while Eclipse begins to chew on his meal. You know that one fish won’t be enough to feed a mer his size, but it’ll at least be enough to stave off his hunger for a little bit. The warmth in your core tells you Eclipse isn’t eager to leave your side for longer than necessary. He’s just as intent on companionship as you are.

Swallowing the mouthful of granola, you say, “I brought my pan flute with me again. Maybe we can give your song another shot later today?”

A tremendous purr rumbles across the waves. At the same time, the contentment behind your sternum spikes, and you sigh happily.

“I think I’ve got the first part down,” you add. “It’s what follows after that I’m struggling with, so it’s a good thing I’ve got such a talented conductor to help me.”

Eclipse’s delight transforms to a small grumble with an undertone of disapproval. His tail whacks the water behind him, and the giant mer gives you a disbelieving, reprimanding look.

Talented yourself.

Not expecting that, you smile sheepishly and chuckle a little.

“Thanks. I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m downplaying my abilities. Although your song isn’t exactly made for human lungs, you know.”

Dark pupils roll.

Siren song, comes the dry rebuttal. Natural. Weak human lungs.

You blow a raspberry.

“I’ll have you know I’ve got rather strong lungs for a human! And I can hold air for a long while too, which is why I’m even able to keep up with those drawn-out notes of yours.”

By this point, Eclipse has finished swallowing the fish he caught, and the bumpy texture of his burgundy tongue flicks dangerously across his teeth. The air charges with his intrigued hum, and you can sense your mistake the second you catch the mischief in his stare. Orange and crimson fins flutter, and a colossal maw nears until it hovers inches in front of you.

You’re already taking a cautious step back when the thought flashes in your head, one that is not your own.

Let’s test it then, the susurrous taunt curls around your mind, snaking like a low voice against the shell of your ear, and the blur of an arm is too fast for you to dodge.

“Eclipse!” you shriek with a laugh as the leviathan gently but gleefully snatches you up from your boat and brings you back into the water.

Your meager granola bar is lost to the waves and fish, but it barely catches your notice as the smug mer yet again deposits you on his chest, sinking onto his back with almost-feline elegance. The frills surrounding his face fan out like a blood-orange sunflower as they float in the water. Eclipse’s lower arms begin to lightly pedal across the waves, circling but not straying you and him too far from your boat. With his other hands, he keeps them cupped around you, preventing you from slipping off or getting away.

You know what he wants, can read his intent in the quiver of anticipation rebounding from your core that sings with the desire to dive. But the large mer is waiting for your approval first, not wanting to take you under without checking in regardless of his former tease. The considerate patience chases away the tepid air and flushes your heart with something even hotter.

Your smile is small and appreciative.

“Of course, I don’t mind taking a swim with you. I’ve gotta prove my little human lungs can outlast yours, right?” You pat against his chest. “Show me what you’ve got, big guy.”

Sharp teeth glisten wetly, Eclipse giving a hearty chortle at your challenge. His translucent fins catch the sunlight just as it skips across the indigo waves and reaches you, creating speckles of white gold atop every crest. Eclipse waits for you to take a few deep breaths in preparation, your lungs filling with air until you give him a nod. With a sweet smile, the mer begins to tip backward, sinking headfirst underwater with his hand cupping you all the while as you take the plunge together.

The water is bitterly cold the moment it touches your skin, and you instinctively squeeze your eyes shut at first as the ocean swallows you whole. But you’ve nothing to worry about in the grasp of your friend who keeps you clutched to a warm chest, the beating of his heart strong under your form even with layers of muscle between you and it. The steady thrum is like a lullaby setting your mind at ease, and soon, the flash of nervousness at diving dissipates like it was never there to begin with.

A soft whisper of your name, wrapped in endless patience, coaxes you with a singular want. You feel a second arm slipping behind you, the first slipping lower, which is followed by a large palm spreading at your back and prickling at the strands of your floating hair, covering your entire frame with its size. In careful slowness, you dare to peek through just a crack despite the salty sting of the ocean. You want to see, just for a moment, and the second you do, you are so delighted you took the risk.

The brightness of the sun does not yet penetrate the surface of the deep, but it casts enough light to turn the ocean into an underwater paradise basked in violet hues.

Upside down, you and Eclipse float in the beautiful display of color that transitions from light to dark, the expanse above your head an incredibly rich sapphire. With every swish of his tail and flap of his frills, Eclipse creates a plume of bubbles that catch the thin light in this flipped world. Your legs curl tightly around his slick frame as much as possible, and a bountiful rumble erupts from your friend. He embraces you until there is no room left to spare, and your arms do their best to wrap around him as much as possible.

Golden eyes shine like pure light in the dim purple glow that is incrementally turning lavender while the sun climbs. Eclipse purrs greatly so that you can hear it even underwater. His heart pounds next to yours, a duet not unlike the song that the mer has sung for you since life was still so new to you and him. Age has not withered the exceptionality of it, but it has made you yearn for it all the more. You doubt you will ever stop longing to be close to Eclipse, and you can feel in your chest that he is much the same for you.

Suspended in place in the arms of your closest friend, you find breathing becomes meaningless. The separation that had kept you trapped on your small island and away from him is no more. Finally, you are together again, reunited under a fading starlit sky and within the pleasant rocking of a calm ocean. Home, at last.

Once your lungs begin to ache, your eyes slip shut, and your smile grows when Eclipse presses his to yours. You happily nuzzle him right back, content to just hold each other like this in the morning quiet where nothing and no one disturbs you. The graze of his frills tickles your cheeks while he keeps you close. You stroke the ones you can reach at the sides of his head, and your movement is mirrored by the light carding of a claw through your hair and along the base of your scalp. The intimacy of it threatens to bring tears behind your eyelids, but any and all drops are carried away by the ocean when your eyelashes flutter with your cautious squint.

Eclipse rubs his scaly cheek against yours for a quick, last nuzzle. Though you’d prefer to remain suspended upside-down like this beneath the waves with him, your friend has your preservation on the front of his mind, and he sweeps his tail in a powerful stroke that rights you and him and brings you back to the suncatcher waves.

A prism of droplets sprays across the surface when you’re brought back up to blessed air that your lungs greedily take back in. After a hasty brush of your hand, you blink away the remnants of saltwater. Your lips twitch.

“I think I definitely outlasted you this time, big guy,” you playfully boast.

Scarlet fins flutter in amusement. Eclipse snorts.

If you say so, sea star.

You hum and tap a finger indecisively, rubbing one of his sharper points against your thumb.

“Well, I might be persuaded otherwise. I guess we won’t know unless we try again, will we?” Your smile flirts on the edge of a grin, but what Eclipse returns with next is enough to stun you.

If that is what you wish. Wherever you want to go, the ghost of an answer dances along your consciousness, I will follow.

His amber gaze is flooded with a softness that makes your heart quicken while you’re choked by nothing related to the air you breathe.

It’s funny, you think, how the universe works. To think that you would find your lifelong partner, someone who fits with you like a puzzle piece, out among the waves. Like you were made for each other, regardless of species or place or form.

Here in the embrace of your soulmate, you’ve found everything you need.

Eclipse warbles in surprise when you lean up and press a kiss to his forehead. There, you linger, shutting your gaze to the caress of his silky frills and the salty tang of his home filling your nose. The arms holding you wrap tighter, a third and fourth finding purchase around any part of you that isn’t covered like he can’t touch enough of you.

Your drenched hair runs rivulets down your cheeks, hiding the evidence of your pure happiness that wells inside you and sneaks past wet eyelashes. A faint sound stirs from the leviathan, dipping into a low tune that makes you bury your face in his precious rays and quietly sing along with him his siren call.

You don’t end up ever really responding to his avowal, but you think Eclipse understands you all too well. Locked together like this, you greet the morning as a reunited pair while the memories of a troubled past float away on the seafoam to break on a distant shore.

#*waves* hi Naff! hi Meep!#eclipse x reader #in deep dreams between the waves au #in deep dreams between the waves fanfic #fnaf sb #writing tag #mermay au #mer!eclipse #so I wrote 90% of this on the day Meep posted that breathtakingly gorgeous art #and then life got absolutely nuts for me for like 3 weeks straight #so I didn't have time to write at all until today asklkgjld #also here's a very random fun fact:#the whole time I was writing this #the Land Before Time II soundtrack kept playing in my head #anyone know that one scene from when the two T. rexes reunite with their baby and press their heads together like a happy family?#that scene and the music that plays during it is all I could think of while writing this because Meep's art just reminded me of it so much #I hadn't even heard it since I was a child but writing this just reawakened a core memory of mine #and that was my favorite movie as a kid so of course I had to write this drabble while listening to the music <3 #sorry for rambling in the tags about something completely unrelated lol #hope everyone is having a good day/night!

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