#long tags ahead here are my drunken thoughts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tripleyeeet · 8 months

Text

WEAVED TOGETHER (SAY IT'S FOREVER)

SUMMARY: After faking your death years ago, Astarion finally finds you in Waterdeep.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,128

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, fingering, orgasm denial, sex used as a manipulation tactic, biting, blood sucking, descriptions of past/current abuse, Ascendent Astarion (feel like I need to tag this just in case), a whole lot of angst.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic gave me so much grief. I really hope my labour translates into something good because man, if it doesn't I might fucking cry. :') Also, fic title is inspired this bop!

MASTERLIST

You’ve never been particularly keen on parties. Favouring quite possibly anything above the stuffy insides of a ballroom packed with people, it’s a miracle that you haven’t already left Gale’s side for some air. To take even the shortest of moments to allow yourself some alone time.

Feeling the fabric of your dress uncomfortably stick to your skin, you can’t help but squirm at the thought of having to stay any later. Considering you’ve been here for a good few hours already, you’re tempted to ask Gale if maybe now’s the time to part ways.

At this point you’ve been well and truly shown off to the entire party, gawked at by countless of his old academic friends, so surely he wouldn’t mind if you up and left now, right?

Before you can think to ask, he’s already wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a friendly kiss to the cheek. “I really do appreciate you coming,” he tells you, drunkenly swaying as he speaks, letting out a chuckle as you hold him steady. “I would’ve been terribly embarrassed to show up at such a renowned event without a date.”

“So you’ve mentioned.” You shoot him a smug look, watching him roll his eyes and take a sip of wine, debating whether or not to take the glass from him, knowing just how much he’s had.

“I mean it, you’ve been nothing short of wonderful to me in my time of need, so thank you.”

Despite the urge to play down his thanks, to remind him of all the things he’s done for you as of late, you merely take it, offering him a quick you’re welcome in return, knowing just how persistent a drunken Gale can get. How the man hardly pauses to breathe in the midst of a conversation —his endless string of words seeming to lose you almost instantly every time.

Even now, as he begins to go on some long-winded speech about the importance of your friendship, you’re already miles away, longing to drift towards the balcony that rests just across the room, taunting you with its open air and lack of people.

“Anyways, would you care for another drink? I’m in need of one myself thanks to the hole at the bottom of my glass.” Pulling you back in, Gale lets out a joyous laugh, throwing his head back while you merely shake your head.

“I’m uh, no I’m fine Gale. You go ahead and get that drink. I think I’m going to head outside and get some air.”

All he does is give you a tight hug before he leaves, stumbling across the marble floors, bumping into various bodies that suddenly get caught up in his inebriated storm, allowing you a moment to yourself.

You let out a sigh of relief then, turning your attention to your desired spot, gathering up the skirt of your dress so that you can race to its opening, breathing in the scent of fresh air once you step past the threshold.

Somehow once you’re out there, you notice that there isn’t a body in sight. No couples having late-night trysts in the corner or other lonesome individuals stood painfully reflecting on their night. It’s just you by yourself, walking slowly towards the railing, gripping it tight as you allow your mind to settle. To shut down for just a moment after being on for so long.

It feels like forever since you’ve felt this calm. After years of endless journeys —of fighting and running and, as of late, hiding away— you feel that old sense of ease wash over you. Like the waves of Waterdeep’s coast, they gently lap at your feet, rising and falling with each breath you take, watching from afar the bustling city streets below as they begin to die out for the night.

It reminds you of home, a bit. Of the nights you used to spend wandering around Baldur’s Gate, your belly full of the cheapest ale and your mind empty of anything other than the prospect of fun. Back then, you were always full of reckless abandon, constantly getting into trouble only to talk your way out of it not long after and unfortunately, you can’t help but begin to miss it all. The life before the war. Before you were taken in the dead of night and forced into a life you never wanted to live.

Things were simpler then. You didn’t have the scars of clashing swords or the kind of memories that often shook you awake each night, covered in sweat and gasping for air. Devoid of anything truly awful, all you had was the blissful ignorance of a fool. One hellbent on solitude in a world of constant interaction.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the people you’d met along the way you’d be jealous of that life. The one where you were seemingly untouchable, your mind vacant of regret and resentment and—

Before you can continue, you shake those same feelings from your mind, forcing out a heavy breath as you try to maintain the calm. The ocean of waves of Waterdeep pooling between your toes, knowing it’s the only way you’ll move on. If you focus on the positives —if you refuse to look back even for the slightest of moments you’ll forget all about those other lives you lived. All the chapters you spent haphazardly scribbling down, trying desperately to get to this moment.

It seems impossible sometimes, remembering how much shit you had to go through to get here. Not only did you have to survive countless wars involving mind flayers and cultists, but you also had to die to get it. And not die in the metaphorical sense, either. No, you had to literally die —to off yourself in front of countless people and hope to god the Necromancer that you hired actually turned up.

It was a whole process. One that you refuse to think about as you let out a scoff and raise your hands to your head, pressing two fingers to either temple to relieve yourself of the sudden ache that hits.

“Remember what we said about thinking,” you remind yourself then, allowing your eyes to slowly roll back, savouring the alleviated pressure your fingers provide.

Repeating the mantra in your head, you rub your skin and hum aloud, standing for a few more minutes as you listen to the sounds of the bustling party behind you. How the music swells into a crescendo of excitement, various strings and woodwinds all playing in time with one another.

Alongside it, a calming voice echoes over, rising and falling with each passing note that carries through the air to your ears. At first, it’s soft and silky —comforting in a way that wills you to drop your hands and take a few steps towards the entrance of the building, watching as a beautifully freckled bard strums her lute and smiles at the crowd.

Suddenly intrigued, you move to your previous spot inside the ballroom, spotting a rather awestruck Gale who’s holding onto two glasses of red, staring with widened eyes.

“She’s rather pretty.” You grin wickedly and bump your hip against his, hearing him grunt as he blinks and glances at you.

“I’m sorry?”

Taking the glass nearest to you, you then use that same hand to motion to the bard that’s begun to erupt in an upbeat chorus, her voice lowering to a wild growl as she kicks up her feet, dancing around the stage with some of the other musicians. “The bard. Fancy a taste?”

He narrows his eyes at you, a grin of his own peeling across his face as he shakes his head. “I think a conversation would suffice. Least, for starters.”

Biting your bottom lip, you jokingly wrap your arm around his shoulders and shake, pressing your face against his cheek to make obnoxious kissing sounds that leave him laughing and shoving you off.

“Unhand me, you harlot!”

“What? Afraid she’ll see?”

He opens his mouth, almost offended, staring for a moment as you wiggle your brows and take a sip of the wine. “Excuse you, that was my drink.”

“You got yourself two drinks?” You raise your brow.

He scrunches up his face in response before subtly craning his neck towards the other side of the ballroom. “No, it’s for Astarion.”

Your stomach sinks at the mention of his name, filling you with the kind of dread you’ve only felt one other time in your life. All at once it sends you into a panic. Your chest aching and your throat tightening. Even your hands, once carefully wrapped around the vessel of liquid seemingly shifts to a close, resulting in shattering glass that pokes and prods your skin before it falls to the ground.

Crying out in surprise, Gale’s previously mischievous expression quickly fades. Replacing it, an air of worry envelopes the both of you. As he reaches for your arm, allowing his hand to carefully slide down to view your newfound injury, you try to swallow and scan the room, picking apart face after face to no avail, wondering if somehow he’s already found you. If perhaps, instead of where Gale assumes he is he’s instead directly behind you, lingering like the creature of the night he is, waiting to strike.

A shaky breath escapes you then. Peeling away from Gale’s cautious grasp, you take a minute to blink and look him up and down, noticing the growing fear in his eyes. How his lack of understanding only spurs your head to whip behind you, to find more curious eyes staring back.

“Are you alright?”

The question comes from a voice you’ve never heard before. So, instead of entertaining it you merely turn back to Gale, suddenly catching an unfortunate glimpse of pale skin and ivory hair quite a ways back.

Immediately, it strengthens the dread inside, ripping the breath from your lungs as you press a nervous hand to your neck, realizing that somehow it’s already been years since you’ve last seen him. Months and days and hours all collectively bundled together, only to be completely ruined by this one moment.

As you stand there, staring —watching as he does nothing but the same, you feel your mind yelling for you to run. To discard whatever reservations you may have left to push violently through the crowd because, at this rate, it’s the only option left. Having already tried hiding beneath the freezing hands of Death himself, it’s obvious you’ve exhausted all other options. No matter what you do —what you say— nothing will be deemed feasible enough to grant you the escape you so foolishly desire. You’re too vulnerable now, standing there in your ballroom gown, bleeding from your injured hand, trying not to have a full-blown panic attack as he takes that first stride forward.

Matching his step, you feel your body waver backwards, everything suddenly swirling across your vision as Gale reaches out to grab your arm, asking if you’re okay.

“I’m aware the breakup wasn’t amicable but maybe if you two just talk?” he suggests, his voice bouncing off your ears like a war drum, reminding you that Sufferance is coming. And that he’s dressed in his fanciest suit to mark the occasion, practically gliding through the room with knitted brows and frowning lips, pushing aside everybody who gets in his way.

“Gale, we —I need to go.”

Suddenly your palm, still filled with glass pushes against his robes, staining the fabric as your blood begins to drip, reminding you of his hunger —of the way he used to feed. How he took and took, ignoring your starvation for something other than submission. Refusing to acknowledge the withering of your soul each day you spent wrapped around his pretty little fingers.

As he shoves a woman to the ground, you can feel the emptiness within your stomach start to grow at the memory. The shuddering of your limbs driving Gale to look behind him, noticing the wild look in Astarion’s eyes as the crowd begins to part in fear, watching as he bares his teeth.

It’s a look that makes you instantly flinch. Closing your eyes, your shoulders rise to touch your ears in anticipation. Waiting for the moment to strike, you all but freeze in place, holding your breath as the steps of his boots draw near, reverberating through the air until they suddenly stop.

In fact, everything stops. The sound of him —the sound of the party. All of it falls onto deaf ears, creating a new fear that has you so terrified you merely stand in place until you eventually hear the clapping sound of a hand on someone’s back, followed by the swirling of your head again, forcing your eyes to jolt open.

“Oh, hello darling, didn’t see you there.”

Once again trying to breathe, you glance between the two men in confusion, watching as they share a lengthy embrace before Astarion’s pushing himself onto you. Gentler than expected, his arms slowly wrap around your shoulders as he does it, pulling you to his chest in a way that feels both frightening and familiar. A mix of home and hell encased around your nervous frame as he lowers his head to yours.

In response, you reluctantly raise your hands and place them on his back, applying a bit of pressure at the centre as you mutter out a muddled hi, looking to see that the commotion he so violently caused before seems to have evaporated into thin air.

“You’re awfully far from home, aren’t you?” His voice is barely above a whisper, ghosting against the shell of your ear as you force out a shaky breath.

“So are you.”

“I wonder why that is.”

You hum in response. Using the short moment of silence that’s granted to stare. To watch the way he looks you up and down, the edges of his lips pulling into a smirk of amusement.

It’s obvious then that he’s thinking of playing tricks. Of taunting and teasing —using all the usual charming tactics before he decides it’s worth it to raise a little hell.

Because of this, you merely swallow hard and spare Gale a glance, watching him magic away the bloodstain on his robes before looking back towards the stage.

“How did you find me?”

Astarion reaches for your chin. Taking hold of it with his thumb and forefinger, he then waits patiently for you to share his gaze, looking your face up and down until he can finally see the fear in your eyes. “Does it really matter?”

It does, but you know he won’t tell you so you move on to another question. “Why are you here then?”

Immediately he scoffs, the smirk on his face falling for a split second. “Do you really have to ask?” he says, letting his thumb run across the length of your bottom lip. “Obviously, I’ve come to enjoy a spot of red with old friends.”

“Hm.”

“Among other things, of course.”

“Like?”

“Reclaiming my dead consort, for one.”

“And two?”

He shrugs his shoulders as he taps your chin. “Not sure. Depends on how the night goes.”

You’re not sure what to say then. Growing increasingly lost to the feeling of his hands and voice —remembering all the moments shared when it was just him and you and the power imbalance of ascension hadn’t yet existed— all you can do is pull him in a bit tighter.

Knowing that Gale is probably growing more curious by the second, you suddenly feel a sense of protection. An urge to get rid of him so that he’s no longer at risk.

Well aware of the power Astarion now holds within his grasp, you know it’s hardly worth it to try and get him involved anyway, especially considering how much alcohol he’s consumed. The poor man couldn’t be helpful even if he tried, so instead of asking you merely hold on. Tightening your grip as the other parts of you desperately try to rationalize just how much you’ve missed this. How even after years spent fleeing his hold —years of constant moving and hiding and watching your back for signs of his presence— his touch is still the only thing that makes you feel safe.

Which is a fact that makes you sick to your stomach, discovering that, regardless of being able to name a million reasons why you should be fleeing rather than falling, suddenly you’re able to name just as much for why you’d stay. Why you’d more than willingly follow his footsteps if he asked.

And not because you fear him, no. Despite having just been found out —despite that growing uncertainty of how you’ll inevitably be taken back— it’s as if your mind resets on impact. As he holds you close, speaking in obvious threats to your safety if you don’t listen, you can feel the defiance in you quickly dwindle. Evaporating into thin air as he leans away to give Gale an overly friendly smack to the shoulder.

“Gale, darling, you wouldn’t mind giving us a bit of privacy would you? Seems we have much to discuss.”

The hold he has on you tightens as he speaks, reminding you that such a conversation is anything but optional as Gale almost immediately buggers off, drunkenly mumbling something about drinks and fun before Astarion’s whisking you away.

Leading you through a crowd of bodies, you quickly find your hand gripping his shoulder absentmindedly. All splayed out, your fingers nervously caress the fabric of his doublet, feeling the texture shift beneath your skin, reminding you that he’s here. That’s he’s present and real and not just some illusion conjured up to scare you into coming back.

“Your entrance back there was…”

You’re not sure what to say anymore. Not with the underlying rage you can feel radiating off of him. Given the fact that it’s been so long, you’ve almost forgotten how to please him. To make his mind ease into those old spaces of pity where sometimes he’d grant you reprieve amongst the punishment.

Knowing this, he looks at you with feigned innocence, taunting you with his still raised lip as though he’s having fun despite slowly inching towards the blowout. “Did you like it? I figured, it’s been so long since I’ve last toyed with that little mind of yours, best to give it a proper show.”

He wipes his thumb across your forehead and watches you frown; your head suddenly darting back only to be ripped forward when that same hand tightens around your throat.

All at once the action leaves you gasping for air. As his thumb presses down on the centre of your neck, applying just enough pressure to pull from you a nervous wheeze as the two of you stop, he can’t help but lower his face to yours.

“I’d consider yourself lucky that the temperament I showed back there was merely an illusion,” he tells you, pressing his forehead to yours.

Swallowing to no avail, you feel the lump in your throat become pressurized by the growing frustrations in his hand. Prompting you to panic, another airless sound emits from your lips as your eyes begin to dart around, looking at all the curious eyes that seemingly look away the second you make contact.

You realize then that nobody cares. Whether it’s due to the intimidating presence he exudes or the potential word of mouth of his ascendance circulating the room, you don’t care, knowing it doesn’t really matter anyway. He’s untouchable regardless. A force so unmovable that all you can do is pray that he’s merciless.

As he grips your throat amongst a sea of avoidant faces, unwavering in his efforts to patronize your past behaviours, you know then that this marks the end of your freedom. That from this moment on his control over you has been reenacted without discussion.

“Now, are we going to obey and have a nice evening or are we going to do something we might regret?”

Looking back at him, all you can do is nod, feeling that alleviation slowly come. Granting you the chance to breathe again, you cough quietly and reach for your throat, rubbing the pain away as you watch his previously aggressive demeanour fall into amusement, once again stringing you along.

At which point you effectively zone out. Still feeling his hand flush against the small of your back, it’s as if suddenly your mind becomes null, avoiding all thoughts as he leads you through the main entry of the ballroom, turning down a seemingly endless stream of corridors until you find yourself face to face with an ornate door.

Once there, he peels away from your frame and begins to pick the lock, wickedly grinning at you once that familiar click rings out, reminding you of the old him. Of how he was before the ritual, all doe-eyed and excited to experience the world and all its gifts.

It makes your lip pull between your teeth nervously, seeing him unbend the length of his back to look at you. To smirk in a way that feels so real and him that you almost forget that he’s changed. That, instead of picking the lock to loot the room and make charming little jokes at your expense, he’s doing it so he can get you alone. So that he can do unspeakable things the old Astarion would never think to do.

“Shall we?”

His voice rings out like a request even though you know deep down it’s a command, secretly telling you to hurry up. So, doing just that, you brush past him without so much as a glance, taking in the endless wall of books that greets you as you enter, opening your mouth in slight awe until the door closes behind you.

Turning back, you’re then given all but a second before he’s on you. Grabbing you with such violent desperation, a hand snakes around your waist, claiming you like he used to do when you were still devoted to being his. When this idea of free will was nothing more than a passing thought that barely grazed the surface.

Back when he was still yours.

Immediately, the familiarity of it wreaks havoc on your chest. Your heart, once filled with longing and fear now radiates nothing but need. Demanding that old sensation of flesh brushing against flesh as his other hand takes hold of the base of your neck.

The second you feel it, all thoughts are lost. Every previous reservation you once had melting into nothing against the hot feeling of your mouth pushing against his, prying open both lips to taste his tongue. To remind yourself of what it felt like to be wanted in the simplest sense.

Deepening the kiss, he moans and somehow pulls you closer, forcing your chests together as he maneuvers you backwards, stumbling over a raised edge of a rug before practically tossing you onto the floor.

“Years,” he groans then, pulling away to stare down at you with knitted brows and swollen lips, distracting you with that pretty face as he begins to rip the bodice of your dress. “I’ve spent years without this flesh —without this blood.”

His fingers pry at the fabric, peeling back the only layer you have to hide behind until you’re left exposed from the waist up, anxiously breathing at the sight of his hunger.

A sight that leaves you helpless beneath his grasp as he quickly leans forward, palming one breast while holding your face with the other. Beneath him, all you’re able to do is take each touch as it comes, savouring the uncharacteristic softness as his thumb brushes against your nipple, teasing it with gentle swipes as he goes in for another kiss.

Similar to his hands, there’s a strange feeling that comes along with it. As he nibbles your bottom lip, choosing to give you control, you know that something’s off. That instead of displaying the softest version of him you’ve felt in years, he should be punishing you with reckless brutality. Taking what’s rightfully his without so much as a thought.

Because of this, you reluctantly pull away, gasping for air as he hovers above you, still stroking your chest and face.

“Why are you doing this?”

Normally, such a question would result in some sort of punishment. A night of solitary confinement. Perhaps the silent treatment for up to a week.

Back before you realized just how fucked up everything had gotten he used to isolate you for things as simple as this. Forcing everyone around to ignore your every waking move, he found that loneliness was the key to your obedience. The only way to control whatever reckless thoughts entered your mind.

So, it’s surprising when he answers —when he lowers his mouth to give your lips one final kiss before flashing that smirk. “What do you mean?”

You raise your brow and move to sit up, leaning against your elbows as your face contorts in confusion. “Why are you acting like him?”

“You mean me?”

You open your mouth to respond —to fight against his words, knowing now more than ever that you should. Considering the door’s already open for conversation, you might as well get all your thoughts out while you’re able. Because after this it’s apparent, you’ll be stuck all over again, wasting away at the foot of a God who’s anything but forgiving.

“You aren’t punishing me.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

His hand explores your face, swiping across skin that hasn’t felt a single touch since your departure. “There’s always time for punishment —for penance,” he tells you, tracing your features with featherlight strokes that have you begging for more as you push yourself upward. “Now that I have you again, there’s far more important things I want before I subject you to what you deserve.”

“Which is?”

He pauses for a while, continuing his ministrations in a way that has you forgetting why you left in the first place. Why, instead of subjecting yourself to the torment of his hand to feel the grace that often coincides, you decided to give it all up.

“I haven’t quite decided yet.”

It’s a simple statement, yet it holds far too much weight against your ears. As he speaks, your heart flutters in your chest nervously, reminding you that this thing between you is nothing more than an imbalance. A tipping scale so unevenly distributed that you’ve lost all hope for rebalance.

Because of this, you don’t fight him when he inevitably leans forward. Nor when he presses a slightly rougher kiss to your lips, biting down with a newfound vigour that splits your lip in half. Feeling the blood pool out, you hardly react when Astarion’s lips begin to suckle the wound, lapping up whatever spills through as he rips away the rest of your clothes, tossing it all aside.

Suddenly cold, you find your arms rising to hold him all over again. Wanting to feel the fabric of his clothes pressing against your bare skin, you grip him tight and groan, relishing in this moment. Enjoying the familiarity of it as something warm blooms across your aching core, fuelling the need for your hips to slightly buck up, making him laugh.

Light and airy, the sound filters through your mouth like smoke, taking hold of your lungs in a way that leaves you addicted. Wanting to chase that past feeling, your hands swiftly lower to his waist, your fingers tucking themselves under his clothes to touch the texture of his scar —to feel the old him amongst all the new.

Realizing this, his movements become suddenly erratic. Forcing himself up with a grin, he then begins to quickly trail down your body, pressing his mouth to every exposed bit within his sightline, making sure to glance up at your heavy eyes and parted lips along the way.

“Mm, still as desperate as ever, my little consort,” he tuts.

Between the kisses he places to your freshly bruised flesh, he releases another laugh that lingers in your mind, further reminding you of him. Of the man you fell in love with. Of the man who swiftly slips between your thighs with little notice, raising the backs to rest against his shoulders.

A sound of shock escapes your lips at the new position, craning your neck to watch him latch onto your inner thigh, suckling the plush through such a guttural moan that it forces your jaw to drop.

“Fucking hell,” you mumble then, prompting his lips to curl into a grin before he’s biting your thigh, forcing his teeth through the tender flesh before you can even think to object.

It feels better than you remember. Almost like a hot flash of pleasure before that familiar coldness kicks in, numbing the space that he suckles with haste. As his lips hollow out to drink whatever he can get, you feel his hand slip against your entrance, knuckles grazing the outer folds of your sex just right.

Bucking your hips again, you feel his movements become one. Each time his tongue licks up, his fingers raise to the top of your cunt, flowing back down in such delicious unison you’re already ready to submit. To surrender yourself to whatever pleasures might await through the pain of your punishment.

So much so that you’re already begging for it. Through gasps that barely hit his ears, your voice whines for more. For more pressure or movement or frankly, whatever the hell he’s willing to give despite how undeserving you are.

“Please, Astarion.”

The moment he hears that little please he’s pulling away, grinning at you with teeth and tongue all covered in your blood.

“I’m sorry, you want me to please you?”

He gently pushes two fingers into your entrance, curling the ends ever so slightly while keeping them still, watching as you press your lips together, unable to speak.

“To pleasure you?”

Slowly, he angles his head to suck your thigh again, dragging a fresh wave of blood through his hungry lips before shifting towards your cunt and licking a tentative strip directly above his fingers.

“To taste you, perhaps?”

His voice is low, droning on in that teasing way that has you looking down annoyed, taking in the way he goes back and forth, debating whether or not to relent. To give in to the indulgence, watching you squirm beneath him. Forcing you to stir in your own prolonged pleasure until he all but sits back up, digging his fingers into the holes in your thigh, telling you you’ll get what you deserve once you’ve come back home.

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott@cappsikle@mostbeautifulnightmare@lynnlovesloki@simpytheshrimpy69@astarion-archive@smaranshakthi@autistic-deer@shadowfeart@freckled-petals@candied-lavender@hp-art-studio@ghouligan@satelliteapotheosis@waywardwitch-hel@pandimoostuff@mythoughtsofinsanity@ilovelovelylove@oneandonlyizabelle

TAGLIST NOW CLOSED!

#weaved together (say it's forever)#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #ascended astarion #summer writes

516 notes · View notes

djarins-cyare · 9 days

Text

Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.” Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it.

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

132 notes · View notes

ivryne · 1 year

Text

. . . ⌗ the aftermath ! 🔬 | scara x f!reader

— 013 : name’s adrien agreste era (🍬)

otw to the party

“Hey everyone, we’re here” You hear a voice called out from the very front seat, his tuff of luminescent blue almost shone amidst the darkness. Your gaze averted to the window. Ahead of you stood what looked like the biggest apartment buildings you ever seen. With towers reaching the heavens it looked like they’ve touched the stars itself.

You’ve never been to Childe’s penthouse. The last party you went to was in the frat house with plenty of Childe’s friends. Including a certain violet haired man. You shuddered at the thought, not wanting to remember the things you did with him. Not that you remember HOW exactly it happened nor the details of said actions. But a little part of you wished you didn’t forget. For learning purposes only, of course :D

All of you quickly went out of the car. Saying your thanks to the man before heading towards the apartment lobby.

“Thanks for the ride, Ayato.”

“Of course, Name. It’s my pleasure. Also, do remember to contact me when you made your mind for it.” He took your hand in his, a large palm bringing your forearm to the tip of his lips, placing a small featherlight kiss. Your cheeks flushed a hundred shades of crimson, your mind stuttering to utter a response. You slowly took your hand away from his, relieving an awkward laugh before saying a quick excuse on how you should catch up with your friends. Quickly turning your back on him, you almost, almost missed that little smirk of his.

Oh how he’s gonna be the death of you

. . . ⌗ the aftermath ! 🔬 masterlist - prev | next

synopsis — the aftermath ! After a drunken night that resulted in some late night endeavors, you woke up in an unfamiliar environment. Looking around you in search for any familiarity, you spot a familiar tuff of violet hair beside you, hidden beneath the heavy duvet. Realization blew you over as you finally connected the scattered dots. Did you really just sleep with Scaramouche, your no.1 nemesis and rival? Well I guess all we can do is wish you luck to deal with the aftermath.

taglist — OPEN ! ( send me and ask, or comment to be added in ! ) @raideneiari i @kino-alternative @xirthia @meigalaxy @ghostsaysno @sakiimeo @lxry-chxn @mcryv @ar1sc0rn3r @soosuro @thomawifey @thenightsflower @scaraapologist @plinkuro @kairxse @swivy123 @baelloraa @scaravibe @samyayaya @darkcheesecakemusic @lazy-sanns @blurr3db3rry @epicalspeckle @lfgceo @kaekazuha04 @certaindreampost @reiqnn @elfxiao @jinxnotpowder @exhaustedcommunist ( if your name is in bold it means i can’t tag u )

NOTE — ✦

this is still a scara smau i promise 😇😇 there r just a few uhm stops along the way 🥰 anyways i hope u enjoyed this chp! n scara is finally appearing after a very long time in the nxt chp hehehehe

#genshin smau #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact #kunikuzushi #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #scaramouche #scaramouche x you #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #wanderer

245 notes · View notes

aristocratic-otter · 5 months

Text

Howdy all!

I've not posted in forever, but I want you to know I am writing. I've just hit a wall with Saving Simon Snow and The Heart in the Well, so I'm rereading those to figure out where I'm going. But I've made significant progress on my other three, just not enough to post a chapter. I think a chapter of Snow Fox will be up in a week. I don't want too many WIPs on the archive, so I'll wait till one is finished to start posting Stars, Flowers and Children, which I've already got ten chapters done on.

Thank you to these folks for continuing to tag me even when I go silent: @larkral, @blackberrysummerblog, @bookish-bogwitch, @nausikaaa, @artsyunderstudy, @nightimedreamersghost, @prettygoododds, @rimeswithpurple, @ic3-que3n, @j-nipper-95 and @shrekgogurt

From: Stars, Flowers, and Children:

One moment Simon’s staring, open-mouthed at Davy’s corpse, and the next he’s folded himself into my chest, sobbing. “I killed him,” he whispers, between sobs. “Baz…I killed him.”

I want to argue with Simon, tell him that he couldn’t have known his shove would kill the man, that Davy’s own drunkenness made him so clumsy he couldn’t break his own fall, that Davy’s madness forced Simon to take action…but none of those things will help. So I just wrap my arms around him and hold him to me and let him cry.

I want to tell him it’s alright. But it’s not.

We’re thirteen years old, and we’re all alone in the world.

From: Snow Fox

“I wish I were there with you. I wish I could be more help,” he frets.

“You’re where I need you,” I remind him. “You’re of invaluable assistance to our effort. Baz, nobody can do what you do for the rebellion.” I reach up and cup his face between my two palms. “And,” I whisper, “knowing you are here, safe? It’s the only thing that keeps me going, some days, darling.”

Baz’s eyes soften. Then I can’t see his eyes anymore because his lips are on mine and my own eyes have slammed shut. He kisses me fiercely, hungrily. Then he pulls away abruptly. “I’ll stay safe for you, for as long as I can,” he whispers.

“I know,” I whisper. “And I’ll do the same for you.”

And a longish sample from Tiktok dancer--Baz is finally in the story!

“We’re young, we’re hot, and we’re freeeeeee!” Dev shouts, and then follows his boast up with a raucous wolf howl.

“You’re making a scene!” I hiss at him.

Dev flips me off, before skipping ahead of Niall and I to the baggage carousel. I refuse to look around to see if Dev’s behavior is drawing attention. Of course it is; he lives to embarrass me.

Niall laughs at my expression and then throws an arm over my shoulders. “C’mon, Baz. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner you can cool your blushes.”

I scowl at him. “I’m not blushing,” I lie. I can feel the heat in my cheeks, but hopefully my skin is too dark for him to tell.

He releases me with a pat on the shoulder and a laugh. “Dev’s just having fun. And he’s right, you know. This is our hot singles tour, and we get to do it in hot people paradise. Isn’t that great?”

“I thought Hawaii was paradise,” I snark.

Niall rolls his eyes. “Your virginity is showing, Baz. C’mon, California? The home of the hottest girls on the planet?”

Now I roll my eyes. “And I should care about that, why?” We’ve reached the baggage carousel now. Dev has pulled all of our suitcases off of the conveyer and is waiting impatiently for us. He was close enough, apparently to hear the last part of our conversation. He snickers.

“You care because you want your best friends in the world to get laid by the hottest women. You’re just nice that way.”

“Besides,” Niall grunts, as he hefts our suitcases onto a baggage cart. “I’m sure the guys are just as hot. You’ll find someone to fuck, Baz. Probably several someones.”

Tagging (and blowing y'all a big kiss for the New Year): @angelsfalling16, @bazzybelle, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @erzbethluna, @fatalfangirl< @facewithoutheart, @hushed-chorus, @letraspal, @frjsti, @messofthejess, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @theearlgreymage, @tea-brigade, @cutestkilla, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

#co/ws/awtwb #wip wednesday #carry on through the ages #cotta 2023 #carry on reverse bang #Age of Sail AU

28 notes · View notes

thenbecauseggoes · 10 months

Text

Right Here

A/N: Hi guys!! I'm so sorry that this is like hella short I just wanted to get it out!!!! Lmk if you wanna be tagged in a future fic and my requests are open for a bunch of characters (i'll prob make a masterlist of who i'll write for) also lmk if u want me to make an ao3! ok love u!

Warnings: drug use, alcohol use, mention of hooking up, parties

genre: fluff :)

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

You had never really been the type for love. Sure there were guys here and there who you were considered to be with but you never really enjoyed being tied down or the label of “girlfriend” that was just another label to make women belong to men. Something you’re not huge on. However, all women also have needs. Which is how you found yourself in this situation, at some douchebag’s house with hazy vision and a rolled up dollar bill in your hand. Now this isn’t your first time doing coke but with the man next to you. That was different.

You had been known not to really make friends but Hobie was sort of an exception. You met him after going to one of his gigs with your sister, he eyed you down the whole time and when you met up after the show you had clicked so well that you just decided to have him as a friend.

The night came to a close and you left the house, bidding goodbye to the group you were talking to as Hobie slung his arm around your drunken form. You stumble a bit walking out of the house and Hobie catches you. “Be careful there luv, wouldn’ want you gettin’ hurt now hm?” he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I handled myself for long enough Hobie I think I can do it now” you say, trying to defend yourself. He just shrugs and you guys keep walking. To the naked eye people might think that you guys are a couple with his arm around your shoulder like that. So you shrug it off with a scoff and walk a few steps ahead of him.

“Gettin’ tired o’ me already luv?” he asks, taking a few long strides towards you, catching up quickly. Curse his long legs.

“No you just, look like my boyfriend when you walk with me like that” you say

“Anythin’ wrong w’that hm?” he leans up close to your ear and puts two of his hands on your shoulders, his tall frame towers over you. He takes a piece of your hair and twirls it in his fingers. It's so intimate that you almost forget you’re walking down a street. You shrug him off again and keep walking. “What’s it gonna take for you to love me?” you stop, realizing he stopped walking where you shrugged him off. You stop walking, your eyes widen, wondering if you heard him correctly. You turn around, hesitantly.

“What?” you ask, looking at him, feeling the most sober you had all night. Not even coke could cover this feeling.

“Why do you lead me on so much?” he asks, taking strides towards you. You back up slightly. His tall frame is more than slightly menacing, plus you’re scared of anyone on this street seeing you.

“Hobie please, wait for us to get back to our place” now that you think about it, you kind of have been leading him on. You have an apartment together but when you bought it was kind of a last resort. You had nowhere else to stay and he offered to pay for it as long as you guys stayed friends. You had been so lost in your train of thought that you hadn’t even heard Hobie calling your name.

“Ay!” he snaps in your face, looking you in the eyes “you hear what I said luv?” you shake your head. He grabs your shoulders and leans down. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. “Nevermind” he walks in front of you now. Leaving you to trail behind him

“Hobie!” you call out but his legs have already taken him far in front of you. you feel like shit. Were you really leading him on? You didn’t think so but maybe you were. If you’re being fair you’ve hooked up a few times but it was all initiated by him. I mean sure, you liked it but that was just because you were high or something. He was attractive but you didn’t care much for love. Was it possible to fall in love with someone when you have completely sworn off it? Your heartbeat quickens, you love Hobie. Maybe from the first day you met him. You had barely realized that you were now at your shared apartment. You walk inside and call out Hobie’s name.

“Since y’don’t think that you can lo’ me, i think i’m gonna see myself out” he says, packing some of his things in a duffle bag. You don’t have much stuff in here. “Sorry y/n, I really feel like I love you-” you cut him off with a kiss. This isn’t like your usual kiss, it's passionate and filled with love.

“No, I'm sorry Hobie” tears start to form in your eyes. “I never meant to lead you on, you know I have a hard time with love”

“So fall in lust w’me hm?” he questions as you smile and bury your head in his chest. Laying on his bed as he holds you close to him. You start to drift off to sleep and he caresses your hair. “Love you y/n” he whispers into your hair. Thinking you can’t hear it but you do and you let a small smile come to your face

#hobie x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown smut #atsv hobie #spiderman #spider punk #Spotify

55 notes · View notes

puppyxaegon · 2 years

Note

Omg I just read your sub!Aegon alphabet and I totally agree with you that that boy does not wash regularly. So I was thinking imagine he’s forcibly brought back from a drunken night out on the streets and I feel like because this happens so often that the servants and alicent and Otto are not gentle when trying to clean him up. So his wife!reader dismisses everyone and washes him herself but she’s so soft and gentle with him. Just lots of fluffy intimacy ❤️❤️

A/n: Hi and thanks for the ask!! We are extremely pro healing Aegon in this household and I just so happen to lovee a bath scene (spot the thramsay enjoyer) so here we go. Also writing dialogue is so hard and I'm not that experienced with it so I hope it is decent and not too clunky. Please let me know your thoughts <3

Holding the Man

Soft!Aegon ii Targaryen x wife!reader

Rating: general/not explicit

Tags: mentions of alcoholism, mention of vomiting, fluff, bathing

Another a/n: even though it's not reflected in the pic, my x reader fics are always written to be as inclusive as possible for any reader unless otherwise specified. Obviously it's not as easy to find poc in this kind of aesthetic but please know this is just as much for non white readers as it is for anyone else. And if anyone wants something like specifically x black reader stuff I am open to writing that too. I fully understand what it is to feel like you aren't represented or thought about in the community and I don't want anyone to have to feel that way. Just request pls!)

It's been two days since you last saw your husband. He had been out as he often is. Gods know where. You worry of course, but you've always known who your husband is, even before you met him, rumors do travel in the realm. And you love him all the same.

You know he often spends time in places he rightly should not be, drowning in drink and turning up somewhere days later in a stupor. So when you hear the commotion echoing through the corridors with that all too familiar whine at it's center you can guess the scene that you're about to walk into. You slip on your dressing gown down and tie your hair back hastily, moving down the hall towards Aegon's personal chambers.

When you stop just within the threshold, he sits shivering in a tub in the middle of the room. A young looking serving girl stands near the tub as well, attending a tray of soaps and oils. His mother and The Hand flank him on either side. They both stoop over him, scrutinizing as his mother holds one arm above his head by the wrist, absently, as if handling a soiled rag. They squabble amongst each other, above his head while Aegon looks between them, visibly miserable, confused, and maybe a bit nauseous. He looks so small like that, being fussed over like a child, shaking and practically nude while they stand over him. 'It isn't right. He's the next fucking king,' you think. 'He should be treated with greater decency even when he isn't at his best.' You can't imagine how this must feel.

His mother is scolding him now, voice low and close to his ear but from her clenched teeth and bruising grip you know her words are harsh. Aegon flinches periodically and stares hard ahead, clearly holding back tears and willing his mind to be anywhere else. Otto stands on his other side, standing perfectly still with that leveling gaze and crossed arms. Watching so closely but saying nothing. Always watching. As soon as you step foot into the room all eyes turn to you, though Aegon sees you and quickly turns his gaze, training it on the water and letting his mop of greasy hair cover his face. The eyes of the Queen and her father are so intense that you have to take a deep breath to push down the nerves that threaten to crawl up your throat and out from your mouth. You still hadn't gotten quite used to these people, and you often find them strangely severe. An undercurrent of tension and unsaid words move alongside every interaction, and you can't say that you've been here long enough to understand why. No one says anything for the moment, as you take in the scene, mouth set in a hard line and forehead creased with concern.

The Queen mistakes your distaste of his treatment for disgust with the man himself, and you try not to let that assumption anger you. "And look now," she says, gesturing to you and stooping down to try and meet his gaze. "You bring shame and discomfiture to your lady wife." He twists again, finally breaking himself from her grip, causing some water to slosh out from the tub and onto the floor. He wraps his arms around himself, slumping to the side of the tub and sliding further in until the water touches his chin. She rolls her eyes and wipes the hand against her gown. She folds her hands together and turns to you, beginning to speak. When you hazard another glance at Aegon, he is looking right back at you, eyes pleading with you, 'Don't let them', and so you wont. "My lady," she begins through a tight smile. "I hope you do not-"

"My Queen", you cut in, internally cringing at your own inappropriate interruption. All the eyes in the room snap to you once again, Otto's curious, the serving girl's uneasy, Aegon's hopeful, and the Queen's simply unreadable.

Her face is calm but she stares straight into you with that look which always seemed to wait for a challenge wherever her children were concerned. "If you'll forgive the intrusion your grace," you say gently, bowing slightly "I would ask that I could care for my husband tonight?" Otto observes you looking almost amused. You swallow, eyes flitting over to Aegon who hasn't moved from his position but now grips the edges of the tub and looks as if he thinks he may float away if he lets go. He shudders slightly. The Queen's gaze remains trained on you and she takes in a deep breath, shifts her jaw as if she's considering much more than whether you should be allowed to bathe your husband. She glances back over to Aegon then to you again. "Well, I suppose I don't see why not."

Just then Aegon inhales sharply and lurches forward, vomiting on the floor and onto the feet of the serving girl. She looks to nearly jump out of her skin, nearly dropping her tray before scrambling back and clamping a hand over her mouth, suppressing a yelp. The Queen stiffens, hands clenching into fists but her expression unchanging. You well know that she has seen him like this more times than anyone could count. The girl however looks pale, and like she may be sick herself if she isn't careful. She must be new, a pity.

The Queen turns to her soberly. "Clean that up." She speaks without betraying a single thought. "Finish your duties, then be gone for the night." The girl nods, turns to place the tray on a nearby table and moves to get knees, suppressing a retch as she begins to clean. The Queen looks to her father again, then back to you, nodding and clasping her hands behind her. She and Otto move towards the door, where you still stand near the threshold. As she steps past you, she stops briefly and grasps your hand, seeking out your gaze and forcing the eye contact. "Good night my lady" she says with that inexplicable intensity, and then they're gone.

The serving girl remains, wiping up the last of the mess on the floor and quickly returning to her feet. She looks to you timidly, clearly unsure of where she should be. "Wait outside" you tell her with a small smile. She tries to return the gesture and her lips are tight, disingenuous cordiality betraying her judgement; but still nods curtly, turning on her heel and leaving the room. You're aware of how everyone in the castle thinks of your prince, but it matters not. Let their thoughts go with the wind.

Finally alone, you approach and kneel at the side of the tub, to your husband who sits reclined with his head resting against the back edge of the tub. His eyes are closed, but when you raise your hand to brush the hair from his face and press it against his forehead he opens them bad they meet with yours. He has the most expressive eyes, you've thought that for as long as you've known him. After a lifetime of being taught to conceal his true thoughts and feelings, they speak million unsaid words directly into your mind. Tonight you saw, as you often did, shame. And an apology.

You use a rag to wipe of remnants of vomit from the side of his mouth, scoffing. They had cleaned the floor spotless, but hadn't even bothered to wipe the prince's face. He looked so pretty, blushing red but your heart aches with the distant awareness that it's a product of embarrassment, not just the steam and the drink. You find one of his hands beneath the water and lift it, watching the way his pale fingers entangle with your own."My poor sweet Egg" you sigh, pressing a kiss into his bruised knuckles. "What will I do with you?"

He chuckles, ignoring the comment and looking away. "I don't think my mother much likes you"

You know the queen does not particularly like you, but so far as you've seen she does not seem to truly like anyone. Except maybe her white knight, but he seems to detest everyone else just the same. She is a woman under immense pressure and you recognize that. She is also a woman who protects her children above all else, so as long as you remain close to the prince she would always look to you with trepidation. She doesn't hate you, but you know she may never trust you fully. You wonder if Aegon ever things of these things. Either way, he does not need to think of them now, so you just smile, and poke him in the ribs playfully, making him jump and bat your hand away.

"And why ever would you think that, my lord" you ask sarcastically, drawing out the last syllable.

"Because," he breathes out, stretching, his tense body now visibly more relaxed. "You love me so easily. She tries so hard but...I still can't tell if she's succeeded. She loves her son but she doesn't love me. Who I truly am, the way you do. I think she's jealous." He giggles at the last sentiment, a hand coming up to rub at his face.

This gives you pause. He can be so lovely at times that is makes you want to cry, but never when he means to. It makes your heart soften. You don't know how to respond, so you push your fingers through his hair, along the back of his neck and down to his shoulders.

"Sit up darling, let's get you clean."

A tray sits on the table nearest to the tub, and from it you pick up the woolen rag and lump of soap, dunking them both beneath the water. You spend the next twenty minutes or so bathing him, mostly in silence save for the occasional sigh or hum from your husband. With a focused but gentle hand, you scrub the outside world from every part of his body, filling the room with a light aroma of oranges from the soap. Once he is mostly clean, you massage his back and shoulders, adoring the way he relaxes beneath your fingers. You lightly run your nails across his chest, not missing the way he shudders at this, shifting slightly when your hand brushes past his nipple. He swallows thickly and suddenly seizes your wrist. The in his eyes is suddenly sharp and reminds you endlessly of his mother.

"You do love me, right?" He never seems to know for sure, the poor thing. You place a hand on the crook of his neck, your thumb coming up to stroke his cheek. You study the worry on his face, the curve of his nose and those eyes that you gaze into and can’t help but love. "Of course I do, you fool." You lean forward, placing a chaste kiss upon his lips. He returns it, softly and without pushing for more. You place another soft kiss onto one cheek, then then other, then his temple and the tip of his nose until you find yourself leaving invisible marks of your love on every bit of his face until he begins to giggle and squirm away from the attention. You revel in the sweetness of it, the privilege of indulging in this part of the man who most people know as all sharp edges.

You move behind him, cupping some water in your hands and smooth it back through his hair. From the tray you take a few drops of rose oil into your hands and work a few drops of rose oil through his hair, massing and scratching his scalp as you go. He closes his eyes and hums, leaning back into your touch.

Once you finish you move to his wardrobe to find clean dry smallclothes for him to change into. Returning to the tub, you place the. Small pile of clothing on the table and squat down next to him, back at his level.

"Now," you say, sitting back up on your heels and resting your hands upon your thighs. "Shall we retire to my chambers while this is cleaned up?"

He looks up at you, a twinkle of mischief back in his eye and a smirk lifting one side of his mouth. "Well yes wife, I would think so."

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aegon ii #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen #house targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower #prince aegon targaryen

306 notes · View notes

gaykneecaps · 4 months

Text

POEM TIME!!! I havent proofread this much because i am VERY sleep deprived but HERE WE GO!! my writing is usually at least a bit better than this but sleep deprivation'll do that to a guy.. oopsie!

title: Don't trust the trees, dont trust the sky

It is a question I thought I had long since abandoned, as I force my eyes to look past the blurred figures of the dark distance.

They lurk and shudder, but I trust my eyes in this place no more than I trust my legs to hold me up under the weight of the stars above.

Pressing down on me, lifting me up like a marionette only to cut my strings as I fall from the sky like Icarus, betrayed once more when the sun rises again in the morn.

As the light roughly butts its head against the stumps of the now stationary trees I scold myself for believing the night could last forever, but the itching in my blood tells me that the lie is one that shall be believed once more in the face of the oppressive, beautiful sky.

The love I feel wash over me as the moon rises once more as promised is more akin to the pressure of a waterfall than the soft push and pull of the tides and the affectionate ripples of rivers as were described to me as a child, but the water raining down on me feels one and the same for all its intensity and I lose myself in the cold passion of the bubbles forcing their way into my airways.

If anything moves between the murky stumps of the trees ahead it is not to be acknowledged. If anything is to call out your name, it is your responsibility to remain silent for your own good. These are the rules, instilled since childhood, drilled into the holes I placed dutifully above my ears.

Sometimes I do wonder if the claws of the beasts that are promised to lie deep in the forest would feel the same as the scorching heat of the moonlight.

Another eyelash falls to the floor of the field to lie buried under the footsteps that have fallen.

Another shoeprint marks another night returned.

Another notch on the stump of the tree, from where curiosity came close to breaking the barrier.

What more is out there?

Will the grass remember the difference between loving footsteps on a cricket-filled night, between the drunken stumbles of a life since lived, between the hateful tramples of a ruined temper?

Will the footsteps mark the same way, for all their useless consequence?

Will the sky remember a vengeful scowl, will it be hurt by my indignance? Or Is it simply too large, too infinite and vast to care about something so insignificant as the one it made its futile promises to?

TAGGING @apollolovescheesecak!! AS PROMISED!!! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK <333

7 notes · View notes

luvrlou · 2 years

Text

What are my Flaws

Pairing: Dinger Holfield x Fem!Reader

Warning: Swearing, Underage Drinking, Use of Weed

Summary: After being invited to a party some truths come out after a silly drunken conversation.

A/N: Not posted in absolutely ages sorry about that!

Word Count: 2.8k

Lainie Diamond, the school's popular sweetheart, most people feel a streak of jealousy when they see her walk through the halls with a herd of teenage boys, sometimes even girls, i"m not one to judge, trailing behind her. Although I should hate her, I mean she pretty much stole my ex from me, it's not her fault though, she's honestly breathtaking. I love her more than anything, we've had this bond like no other since she moved here about 4 years ago and ever since we've been attached at the hip.

Of course always being with the school's, hell maybe even the state's, wow girl can have it's downsides, like bringing her with me to meet a boy and him totally falling for him, or having to third wheel almost all the time!

Even though there are a few downsides I would never change her for the world, she has the most golden heart and intriguing personality, what is there not to like?

"Hey Y/N!" Lainie shouted across the classroom as I walked into maths, earning a hush from the balding teacher at the chalkboard, she rolled her eyes.

"Is that Lainie Diamond? In the flesh?" I laughed as I walked towards my desk.

"Yes it is, now be shocked," she teased back, causing me to faux gasp.

When I sat in my seat I immediately felt the presence of a certain redhead sitting behind me, I rolled my eyes, as much as I love my friends. Dinger and Joel always seemed to get me riled up, more so Dinger, he just always knew how to push my buttons.

"Good morning, Y/L/N" Dinger whispered from behind me.

"Dinger," I nodded, while trying to copy down what's on the blackboard.

"Not even a good morning, wow, fuck you too then." He gasped and muttered, making me huff in frustration.

"Calm down it's nine in the morning jesus." I groaned, I could hear him snicker to himself, he definitely knew that he got a rise of me. I just know there's going to be a long day ahead.

By the time lunch had rolled around I was on my last nerve with Dinger, I guess I'm feeling really irritable today, usually, I can keep my anger in until last period before he truly pisses me off.

I don't get how one person can have that many annoying characteristics, he's not even that bad a person to others, but he just has something out for me, I'm telling you. For example, when Bobby first introduced us, he was nothing but nice to me, mind that was about five or six years ago.

Ever since we were 15 he just seemed to have it out to annoy me, which influenced Joel to tag along and piss me off, it's two years later and they're still doing it, you'd think they would mature a bit, but no, only seems that me and Lainie have.

I mean even Bobby is more level-headed than him and trust me Bobby is a nutter and a half.

"If you glare any harder holes might actually burn in his back," Bobby chuckled, snapping me out of my hateful thoughts.

"How come I'm the only one truly irritated by his mere existence?" I question, facing the black-haired boy next to me.

"Maybe you like him!" He teased, nudging my shoulder.

"Yeah, no," I deadpan, now I'll admit he is a decent-looking boy but his personality is definitely off-putting. Bobby then gives me a knowing look, "as if, have you seen how he acts, I'd rather drown in scolding hot lava than date him for more than five seconds."

"Woah, that was a bit harsh princess," Dinger hummed. Great just great, why does he have to be near me whenever I don't want him there whatsoever.

"Don't be such a smart ass then Holfield and maybe my opinion on you will change," I scan his face for a moment, seeing a trace of a smirk, I continue, "which is extremely unliking since the thought of being with you is simply revolting."

I smiled to myself watching him give up and turn away to go talk to Joel, finally I had gotten a rise out of him.

Before I knew it lunch was over and I had to go back to class, I trudged through to halls toward my Physics room, dreading the next hour of my life. Luckily I sat next to a sweet girl, Evie.

"You don't look too happy," she commented when I practically flung myself in my seat.

"How could you tell?" I replied flatly.

"Well what's pissed you off, or who?" She questioned, slight humour in her voice.

"That stupid fuck, Dinger Holfield, god knows why I keep him in my life he's so incredibly frustrating!" I huffed, crossing my arms.

"I mean at least he talks to you, I would die if a boy with his looks even spared me a glance." She reasoned, a day-dreamy look in her eyes.

Her comment made me feel a bit distasteful, I don't really understand why but I pay it no mind and reply. "Sure he's ok looking but his personality is his main downfall."

Before Evie could reply the whole room was silenced by our teacher, she finally seemed annoyed by the class's constant chatter. After a treacherous class, the bell finally rang signalling it was the last period.

"What class are you off to?" I ask Evie as we gather our stuff.

"English," she groaned, "you?"

"Art," I answered happily, I honestly quite enjoyed art, well it's better than maths or english.

She quickly smiled at me when we parted ways to go to our separate classes.

Sadly my peace had been interrupted by none other than Dinger Holfield, who was slinging an arm over my shoulder.

"Dinger, what are you up to?" I inquired, my eyes flicking between his face and the arm over my shoulders while my cheeks flushed red.

"You looked quite lonely there, like a small puppy, so I'm here to walk you to class!" He cheered as if he was the kindest person in the world.

"Well I'm Mr Mackal's room, so we're nearly there," I told him, hoping to get away from the encounter as soon as possible.

He took his arm off my shoulder and started to fiddle with the zip of his army green jacket, "Me, Joel and Bobby are going to a party tonight, come with us will you?" He spluttered out. I just nodded in response, face still flushed, "and- uh- bring Lainie!" He finished his sentence, while trying to redeem himself.

I nodded again and chuckled as he practically sped-walked away, I didn't realise I was that scary. I shook off the slightly odd behaviour and entered my class.

Before I knew it the time of the party, Dinger had invited me and Lainie to, had rolled in. The boys were going to pick us up at seven so we had just over an hour to get ready.

"What are you wearing?" Lainie asked you slightly panicked at the time.

"Just a mini dress, or maybe a nice top and a skirt." I answer, rummaging through my closet, "you can wear one of my outfits, yeah?"

"Yes, please! You are honestly a lifesaver!" She smiled widely. I picked her out a black fitted skirt and a silver sparkling cropped vest to match, it was more my style than hers but it didn't matter, she suited everything.

While she changed into her outfit I started deciding between a dress to wear, I was thinking a black one with mesh arms, and perhaps some silver heels to match so that me and Lainey would be somewhat corresponding.

I changed into my outfit and we started to jokingly model about my room, "You have the best clothes, Y/N, I swear," Lainie praises, her comment made me beam, I was infatuated by her mere presence never mind her sweet words.

Lainie reached over my bed to glance at my alarm clock, "we have fifteen minutes, give or take, before the boys come." she commented, I hummed in response.

Lainie sat on my bed fawning over the photos of Ralph Maccio and River Pheonix in my newest edition of BOP, while she was engrossed in my magazine I took the last of my curlers out, I adored doing this to my hair it always added just the right amount of volume.

"Thats the boys!" I cheer as I watch Joel's red mustang pull up infront of my house, I quickly fix my hair and then the straps on Lainie's top before we leave my front door. "Bye Dad!" I shout up the stairs.

We swiftly exit my house and walk towards the car. Lainie obviously sat shotgun next to Joel, meaning I had to be stuck between Bobby and Dinger. "Hello honey," the redhead boy laughed, leaning close into my side.

The car journey was about twenty minutes, I didn't talk much although Bobby, Lainie and Joel seemed to keep themselves occupied and Dinger was trying to understand how to work Joel's new lighter.

"Come on man, I just want a smoke!" He groaned still flicking the side of the light.

I hummed, "hand it over," he obliged and I flicked on the flame and signalled for him to put the cigarette in his mouth. He watched me with open eyes and his cheeks a shade of rose. I quickly lit his cig and moved back, registering how close to him I was. When I sat back Bobby sent me a knowing look, making me mouth 'shut up' to him.

When we arrived at the party Bobby offered me his hand and pulled me out of the car, I walked to Lainie's door and helped her out, "Dinger didn't seem too happy about Bobby helping you out the car," she whispered with a teasing smile across her lips.

"Oh shut up Lainie," I mumbled as she laughed and linked arms with me.

We walked towards the front door of the house, I didn't really know whose party this was, apparently, it was one of Bobby's friends from the neighbouring school.

The first thing we did when we entered the house was find the stock of drinks, "what are you thinking Y/N?" Lainie asked, eyes roaming the display of vodka, beer, tequila, whiskey and even some rum.

"I'm thinking of a vodka coke," I pondered, grabbing a red solo cup. Lainie nodded in agreement grabbing the vodka and a cup of her own, she poured some vodka into the two cups while I grabbed the coke and added it to the vodka in both cups until it was mainly full.

'Okay I'm away to mingle, you want to come?" She asked me, I took a swig of my drink and shook my head.

"I'll catch you up later, yeah?" I smiled.

I am honestly so confused with Dinger, sure he's annoying but we have these moments, it's as if the world stops spinning and it's just me and him. Before I knew it my drink was finished, I poured myself a new one, this time with a more generous amount of vodka.

"I really need to go talk to more people," I mumble to myself, I really had to get this prick out of my head. I walked into the crowd and started talking to some girls.

"Hey! I love your dress, where did you get it?" A girl I've seen around school asks.

"Thank you, I got it from Tommy Hilfiger! Only $70 can you believe that?" I grin before taking a gulp of my drink.

"Hey Y/N!" A girl shouts, a big group walks up to me, Evie standing at the front.

"Evie! You should have told me you were coming!" I grinned, "oh my god, are those Guess jeans! I need them!"

"Yes, the fit of them is honestly amazing!" She fawned. "Want to come and get a drink with me, there's this one whiskey that tastes just like the apple juice in the mall!"

"Hell yeah!" I beamed, the other girls followed as we made our way to the kitchen, I poured the whiskey that Evie handed me into my cup and took a drink. "Evie how much percent is this?" I asked.

"It says twenty-seven, tastes like there's none though!" She laughed, gulping down the last half of her cup.

"So introduce me to your friends," I coax, eyes scanning the group of about seven girls behind her.

She turns around and points to the first girl, "This is Chanel, her mum really likes handbags," she whispered the last bit before pointing to the next girl. "This is Tracy," she makes her way down the line saying the name of each girl. They all looked nice enough but I was really wanting to mingle with more people, my mind wasn't exactly deterred from the thought of Dinger's face.

"I'm going to head, I'll talk to you all soon!" I smiled softly, added some more whiskey to my cup and walked into the crowd, hearing a chorus of 'byes' and 'see you laters' from the girls.

"Hey beautiful, where are you going?" An unfamiliar boy said, looking into my eyes.

"Oh no where," I giggle, I don't know if he's honestly attractive or if it's just the alcohol.

"Maybe we can talk a bit," he suggested motioning me to sit on the couch. "I'm James."

"Y/N, I haven't seen you around here before," I smiled, situating myself on the couch.

"Well I would remember seeing such a pretty face so I'm assuming you don't go to ACU?" He replied.

"Yeah I don't go there, I go to the school for the dumber part of town. I joked, downing the last of the liquid in my cup, feeling it slide down my throat. "I'm going to get a new drink, I'll be back in a second."

"Wait, give me your number just in case I miss you," he offered me a pen off the nearby table, I wrote my number onto the palm of his hand and walked to the kitchen.

While I was on my way towards it a pair of hands grabbed my waist, I whipped my head around to see Dinger with a clenched jaw. "Dinger, what the fuck!" I mutter sternly. He stayed silent while he guided me into the room.

While he walked me I felt over whelmed by his redolent scent. "What do you thing think your doing," he whispered through clenched teeth.

"Getting dragged by you to the kitchen, duh!" I drunkenly laughed.

"Don't even think about fucking with me Y/N" He threatened.

I grabbed more whiskey and filled my cup to the brim, " I'm not doing anything you're the one grabbing me and dragging me away!"

"That guy! Why are you talking to him?" He questioned getting close to me, I could smell the strong stench of beer and weed in his breath.

"Cause I'm a single girl who can talk to whoever she pleases!" I babble, looking at him with the most menacing eyes my drunken state can muster.

"God you're so stupid! I like you Y/N!" He practically yelled.

"No you don't" I whisper, looking at his pleading eyes.

He backed away from me and sat on a chair at the drinks table. "What's my flaw?"

I laugh, until I realise he's deadly serious. "Well you're irritating, you have a bit of a jealous streak, clearly, and you always push my buttons." I giggle.

"So nothing physically is wrong with me?" He ponders.

"No, you're hot as hell!" I admit, feeling his eyes glued to me as a finish yet another cup of whiskey.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean I would be in love with, like head over heels, if you were less annoying." I chuckle grabbing the bottle and pouring the drink right into my mouth instead of a cup.

He groaned and grabbed my face, "you're so fucking confusing," he crashed his lips right into mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he trailed his hands down my back to my waist.

He pulled back as we heard a set of footsteps walk into the room. "Thank god! I thought you died Dinger!" The voice belonged to none other than Bobby Keller. "Y/N?"

"Hey Bobby," I replied cautiously.

"Hey girl!" He shouted, well more squealed. Yes he was definitely high. "Want to come smoke with us!"

I hummed before nodding and grabbing Dinger's hand and following Bobby towards the back garden. He handed each of us a joint and we sat on the grass while gazing at the abendrot sky while the drugged smoke filled our lungs.

#lou writes fanfic #dinger holfield x reader #dinger holfield #dream a little dream x reader #dream a little dream #corey haim #corey haim x reader #Spotify

105 notes · View notes

gendervapor14 · 1 year

Text

gen's ship one piece fanfiction masterlist!

um so my original masterlist became impossible to edit because it was too long so i decided to split it in half! so, now the old masterlist is purely my gen content (romance is not the main focus) and this masterlist will focus on romance and ships.

updated 08-12-23

doflamingo x viola/violet

i hate this ship as much as i love it. i suffer every time i write them. anyway. here are the fruits of my labor.

a gift and a curse

rating: T warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings status: complete! oneshot, 2,916 words genres/cw: soulmate AU, enemies to lovers, angst, attempted murder, sexual tension, power imbalance, suicidal thoughts, canon-compliant characters: doflamingo, viola summary: They were equals now. His wild, reckless motives threatened her vitality as much as her desire to restore her kingdom threatened his. He could have the build of a cockroach, but Viola was just a delicate little princess. A knife to the chest would easily kill her, if he didn't want to play by her rules. Judging by that expression when he looked her way, that disgusted scowl, he was dawning upon the same conclusion. additional notes: this was written for a rarepair event in feburary. a friend challenged me to write a soulmate AU (not a huge fan of them). it turned out pretty dark, so be mindful of that.

cut it (out)

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! two chapters, 1,755 words genres/cw: angst, canon compliant, power imbalance, blood and injury, implied alcoholism, insomnia, unhealthy relationships characters: doflamingo, viola, dellinger summary: gerascophobia ~ the fear of aging additional notes: two separate stories that focus on doflamingo's relationship with viola, and aging.

façade

rating: T warnings: no archive warnings (check tags) status: complete! oneshot, 1,897 words genres/cw: canon compliant, unhealthy relationships, identity issues, pre-dressrosa, manhandling, hurt no comfort, threats of violence, death threats characters: viola, doflamingo summary: “What happened to the princess I used to know…?” The bridge of her nose crinkled as she maintained her balance. “She stands before you.” “This,” Another harsh jostle. “Is a façade.” additional notes: written for the "manhandling" prompt i got for the bad things happen bingo. yeah. i hate it too.

corazón/rosinante x bell-mère

corabelle my beloved. these two are hysterical, a great fluffy/humorous escape from my angstier works. (except for when they BECOME the angstier works. then we have a problem. a good one. but a brain-eating one.

how to bed your captain

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 3,111 words genres/cw: humor, pining, sprinkle of angst, only one bed, canon-compliant characters: rosinante, bell-mère summary: Staring ahead blankly, Rosinante decided at some point between negotiating a room with the innkeeper, and getting into this bed, he’d died and gone to heaven. additional notes: probably my favorite corabelle story i've done so far. great pairing for this trope.

king of christmas

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 5,136 words genres/cw: modern AU, christmas fluff, humor, slice of life, domestic fluff, drunken shenanigans characters: rosinante, bell-mère, law, nami, nojiko summary: nojiko ruins santa for nami. bell-mère finds the perfect jolly, blond replacement. additional notes: wrote this one for christmas! thought about rosinante in a santa suit and this was born.

king of karaoke

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 1,778 words genres/cw: modern AU, humor, fluff, slice of life, dates characters: rosinante, bell-mere, law summary: bell-mère takes rosinante (and a begrudging law) to a karaoke bar. rosinante feels the need to prove a point. shenanigans ensue. additional notes: i wrote this in like an hour when i started depressing myself writing angst

happy belated

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! 3 chapters, 13,530 words genres/cw: modern AU, humor, fluff, awkward romance, rural setting, friends to lovers, domestic fluff, awkward date, suggestive themes, birthday party, dinner, snowed in, deep talks characters: rosinante, bell-mère, law, nami, nojiko summary: bell-mère helps rosinante catch a break. additional notes: SHE'S FINALLY FINISHED WOOOO

rise & shine

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 1,212 words genres/cw: modern AU, mother's day, fluff & humor, romance, suggestive themes, domestic bliss characters: rosinante, bell-mere, nojiko summary: bell-mère gets a few surprises on mother's day additional notes: i think this is the fluffiest thing i've written so far. it's very sappy and a bit suggestive, verging quite close to M territory.

from the heart, for the heart

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 2,340 words genres/cw: modern au, father's day, domestic fluff, slice of life, holiday blues, found family, hurt/comfort, law is a little shit characters: bell-mere, rosinante, law, nami, nojiko summary: rosinante gets a bit glum every father's day. bell-mère and law give him a reason to smile. additional notes: another piece of the corabelle family holidays series which was totally created intentionally

set in stone

rating: T warnings: major character death status: complete! oneshot, 2,836 words genres/cw: canon compliant, angst, financial struggles, slice of life, tragic romance, suicidal thoughts characters: bell-mere, genzo summary: “He, he was a nice guy. Terrible at charades, but I guess we were both pretty banged up.” “Did you become good friends?” “We held hands.” additional notes: a follow-up to Matching Set by @crowbarsolo because he thought he could just, write a story like that without breaking my heart and making me write a copium fic

high tide

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! 2 chapters, 9,643 words genres/cw: modern au, birthday fluff, beach vacation, light angst, drama & romance, domestic fluff, slice of life, suggestive themes, recreational drug use, referenced drug addiction characters: rosinante, bell-mere, law, nami, nojiko summary: rosinante uses his birthday as an excuse for a family vacation. things do not go as planned, but he sure does have a great time additional notes: yes the title is a pun. this fic is probably not great i don't even remember writing it

smoker x corazón/rosinante

i truly adore this pairing! not a whole lot out there for them to my knowledge. i'd like to write more, but for now, here's some tooth-rotting fluff.

from one home to the next

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 2,030 words genres/cw: modern au, college au, fluff/humor, established relationship, romance characters: rosinante, doflamingo, donquixote parents, smoker summary: maybe returning to campus this semester wouldn't be so bad. additional notes: a cute little corasmo gift for the lovely @gali-la based on the little universe they have for them! ♥

crocodile x corazón/rosinante

one of my favorite all-time pairings!! not nearly enough content about these two out there. (they are kind of random i guess) but hey i don't care i love them anyway. the two stories i have here so far are... extremely different, so be mindful of that 😅

all bark and no bite

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! four chapters, 14,207 words genres/cw: modern AU, fluff, humor, slice of life, fake dating, undercover missions, drunken shenanigans characters: rosinante, crocodile, bell-mère summary: rosinante gets an odd new client who is definitely a crime lord. bell-mere helps him get to the bottom of it. additional notes: somehow this story became one of my all-time favorites. rosi the boarding kennel owner and croc the... totally innocent client.

broken fingers hold tightest, broken hearts bleed brightest

rating: M warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings status: complete! oneshot, 3,588 words genres/cw: canon-compliant, angst, unhealthy relationships, brief smut, power imbalance, arguing, mildly dubious consent characters: rosinante, crocodile summary: “Grow up.” Crocodile’s tone was flat, hand furled casually in his pocket. “I’m not here to kiss your ego. This mission was your choice—” “And this relationship was your choice.” Rosinante pushed, “If we can even call it a relationship. Starting to feel like I’m just your…goddamn plaything.” A dry chuckle. “Perceptive, aren’t we?” additional notes: somehow i am capable of writing both of these crocorosi stories. i don't know either

corazón/rosinante x katakuri

this pairing may seem like it comes out of nowhere because it does. but i am always happy to fill in another spot on my rarepair bingo sheet.

donut miss your chance!

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 5300 words, (may add more chapters later) genres/cw: modern AU, fluff, humor, slice of life, blind date, awkward date, anxiety, reference to selective mutism characters: rosinante, bell-mère, katakuri summary: bell-mère sets rosinante up with "a cute baker." a 7'2" punk-goth behemoth is not exactly what rosinante had in mind. additional notes: a gift for @gali-la! we've both succumbed to some major katacora brainrot from the wonderful fanart by M.BD on twitter and this was born in the span of like, 10 hours. might add another chapter once i actually watch WCI and feel more comfortable characterizing katakuri and the charlotte fam

corazón/rosinante x sora (oc)

sora is an oc from 01746! she's rosinante's superior, and helps track his coordinates for tsuru while he's undercover. this story can be read without reading 01746, but some inside jokes might not make their mark.

secrets secrets (can be fun)

rating: E warnings: none! status: complete! two chapters, 6669 words genres/cw: canon-compliant, secret relationship, humor, dark humor, angst, banter, smut characters: rosinante, sora (oc), sengoku, tsuru summary: “One of these days…” Sora raised her head reluctantly, as if she’d rather keep staring into his heart. “One of these days…?” “One of these days…” His palm settled at her nape, fingers weaving through dark hair. “We’ll actually do some work in this office.” With a light laugh, Sora urged herself up onto her toes, tugging him down for a quick peck. “Not today.” “No, not today.” additional notes: my first rated E fic! yeah it's uh. rated that way for a reason. ya'll asked for this, okay. once upon a time it was one chapter and it was rated T, lmao

fill your cuts, spill your guts

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 5,835 words genres/cw: canon divergent, blood and injury, whump, cora lives au, bullet extraction, mild gore, referenced suicidal thoughts, mental health concerns, confessions, romance characters: rosinante, sora, law summary: She took the canteen for him and put it aside, helping him remove the tattered, soaked shirt. Corazón’s flashy pink shirt. Such an iconic garment. Looked so much prettier in those wanted posters, but now that it was here in her grasp, it was nothing but a threadbare, rusty, well-worn scrap of cotton. Might have been Corazón’s choice of attire, but there was still a man beneath that garish, streaky makeup. Her man. additional notes: this was festering in my drive so i posted it and doctors hate me for it

sora (oc) x bell-mère

another spicy little blurb involving sora. did my best to make this compliant with the 01746 universe, too!

temptation, torment, and tangerines

rating: E warnings: none! status: compelete!, 4 chapters, 23,522 words genres/cw: canon compliant for the most part, enemies to lovers to friends, sexual tension, angst and hurt/comfort, feminist themes, misandry, smut, some humor, conflict of interests, moral dilemmas, arguing, size difference, implied/referenced human trafficking characters: sora (oc), bell-mere, rosinante, tsuru summary: “I’m not, we’re not doing anything. I’ll let you go, for now, but you need to get serious. If I hear of any other misdemeanors after this conversation, I will report you.” Bell-mère sauntered towards the door with her hands out in an exaggerated shrug. “You owe me a tangerine, by the way.” Sora scoffed and folded her arms. “You’re supposed to salute your superiors upon entry and exiting.” “I’ll salute ya as soon as I respect ya, toots.” ~ takes place in the 01746 universe, but can be read standalone ~ additional notes: i wanted to address the fact that i have no f/f fics in the OP fandom so i wrote this. there are undertones of f/m at the end! but yeah the main pairing is bell-mere and sora 👍

corazón/rosinante x sora (oc) x bell-mère

uhhh i have. very little explanation for this. some friends told me a threesome with these three would be funny. did my best to deliver.

trouble, trouble, toilsome trouble

rating: E warnings: none! status: complete! 4 chapters, 21,265 words genres/cw: modern AU, polyamory, demisexuality, aromantic, bisexuality, fluff and humor, drama & romance, online dating, some smoking and drinking, insecurity, slice of life, okay. bring forth the porn tags, smut, first time, hand jobs, S&M, exhibitionism, rough sex, inappropriate use of kitchen utensils, vaginal fingering, voyeurism, threesome - F/F/M, anal fingering, pegging characters: rosinante, sora (oc), bell-mère, smoker's there for 5 seconds summary: How many times could he doom himself? Giving Smoker his phone. Dating Sora. Sleeping with Sora. Encouraging her to seek a new partner. Encouraging her to bring that partner into their home. Encouraging her to fuck that partner in front of him. The words, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind giving it a try.” His seven deadly sins. And he tripped, stumbled, and faceplanted into all of them. additional notes: yeah this story is odd idk why it happened either

law x monet

yeah this is a random pairing idk

paper meets coffee

rating: T warnings: none! status: incomplete, one chapter, 4224 words genres/cw: bookstore AU, coffeeshop AU, canon universe? it's weird i know, humor, sexual tension, enemies to lovers characters: law, monet summary: A coffee bar. Installed in her bookstore. It was an outrage. additional notes: do not remember writing this. i don't know when this happened. i do know a friend gave me this random prompt generator and this is what i got.

gladius x monet

a true rarepair. have to enter them into ao3 manually every time i write about them. they're sweet though!! i think they'd have a lot in common.

until hell freezes (us) over

rating: gen warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 1,190 words genres/cw: canon compliant, goodbyes, character study, self-consciousness, angst characters: gladius, monet summary: His sleeves, not ideal for absorbing fluids, smeared the vapor around to create a smudged, translucent portal of reality. Although, as those talons clattered to the glossed wooden surface, claws carving into grain, Gladius wasn’t entirely sure reality was what stood before him. additional notes: my take on a light, pretty piece to highlight the tragedy of this ship. kind of tried to write the story to frame it like a blizzard, if that makes sense.

31 notes · View notes

ithinkilikeit-reactions · 2 years

Text

Small Town Whispers (Jaehyun) TEASER

A/N: Going to try and finish this within the week! Here is your little teaser ahead of time! I have things planned during my break so keep an eye out for those as well!

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

A/n; This is loosely based off of Stars Hollow from Gilmore Girls and Luke & Lorelai’s relationship. I hope you guys enjoy this, I haven’t written a full story in a long time.

Tags: Diner owner! Jaehyun, afab! reader, drunken confessions, distant longing, gossip, slow burn, established relationship eventually

Smut tags: dom! Jaehyun, body worship, mirror sex, oral sex, a lot of kissing, slight hair pulling

Your shift at work was like any other day. A bookstore in a small town doesn’t necessarily get very busy in this day and age, so you had it quite easy most of the time. Only you could feel trouble brewing when the two ladies sauntered in. They weren’t looking for books, that you could most definitely tell. However they played the part well enough, walking through the aisles and pretending to care about the backs of the books they were reading only to steal glances of you.

“How can I help you ladies?” You asked as they walked up to the counter, not one book in hand. “Dear, enlighten us would you.” Mrs. Yang started and you could feel yourself get nervous. “What happened between you and Jaehyun?” Mrs. Park finished the question and you let out a sigh. “I thought the town drew conclusions on their own.” You remarked, looking away and pretending to look something up on the computer. You didn’t care for their sudden regard for the actual situation, they didn’t seem to care when spreading rumors not a few days prior. “Jaehyun keeps claiming that isn’t the truth. We’re just simply curious.” One of them mentioned and you felt yourself look down to the ground. He was defending you all while you were ignoring him, it made you feel awful.

“Not only that but he’s been awfully grouchy since the whole thing. Haven’t seen him smile in a week!” Now you simply felt worse, he didn’t deserve this. You were the one who messed up and well, maybe it was time to own up to the situation. “He’s telling the truth, nothing happened. He was being a gentleman when I made a mistake, that’s all.” You admitted, finally looking the two gossips in the eyes. They seemed almost disappointed with the truth and sighed before bidding their goodbyes. Their words made you feel awful and you made the choice to see him that evening, talk things through. You just had to wait until the diner was closed, you didn’t need an audience again.

The lights were still on yet the closed sign was hanging from the door as you stood in front of the diner. Your heart was absolutely racing and you were so incredibly nervous, but you knocked anyways. You thought this approach would have been better than barging in like the last time.

Jaehyun truly hadn’t expected to see your face, especially not so late on a day that he knew you worked. He also didn’t expect for you to knock as you normally let yourself in. This visit was different and after the week he had without you, he could sense that. Though he had to keep himself from smiling because he really missed you, he opened the door slowly.

Like I said before, some stuff coming up and during all of that I hope to finish this by the end of the week!

Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged ♥

#jaehyun #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #jaehyun smut #nct reaction

77 notes · View notes

horsedadgeralt · 2 years

Text

and maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry, too

Geralt and Jaskier where lovers, and then they weren’t. What happens when they run into each other again?

listen to stay by mayday parade to make this really hurt.

wc: 1.7k cw: alcohol + drunkenness tags: hurt/no comfort, you were warned, i ain’t taking prisoners with this one

read it also on ao3!

Jaskier didn't even remember how he had ended up there in the first place. There. Here.

That uncomfortable stool underneath him, his elbows propped up on the bar, far too late at night with far too many drinks in far too little time.

Geralt's favourite bar.

Somehow, a midnight stroll had turned into a 2 hour-walk, and the rain had forced him to seek shelter in the only place that was still open this late at night.

The wine still tasted as shitty as ever, so he had switched to something stronger quickly. The familiar burn trickling down his throat warmed him up again, and the buzzing behind his eyes did enough to soothe his general restlessness.

Absent-mindedly, he traced the rim of his glass with the tip of his finger, over and over and over again, an endless loop.

A screeching next to him tore him from his thoughts as someone sat down right beside him, uncomfortably close for a stranger.

His black jacket made a squeaking sound. He had to have gotten drenched as well.

For a moment, there was silence, and then the stranger spoke.

"Didn't expect running into you here this time of day."

The words were soft and low, and Jaskier would have recognized that voice anywhere, even if he had forgotten everything else. Would have recognized its velvety deepness, the way it got hoarse right after waking up and guttural with anger—

Somehow, he restrained himself from throwing his glass against the wall then and there. Instead, he said nothing, just staring straight ahead.

A single word coming out of his mouth would have already been too much.

"I see," Geralt said after what felt like an eternity.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude. I'll leave you be, just try and get home safe."

With that, he turned to get up, and something in Jaskier broke.

He was drunk. He was drunk and emotional and knew he shouldn't be doing this.

Shouldn't be having this conversation. Not right now, not like this.

But Jaskier very rarely took his own advice, and it had been long established that his tongue had a mind of its own.

"You never fucking tried, Geralt," he spit out, and it almost felt rehearsed.

In a way, it was. In a way, he had had that conversation with himself many times before, trying to figure out what he would say if it ever came down to it.

And here he was, opening the floodgates, hoping the waves would drown him in the process.

"Jaskier, I—" Geralt began, and those amber eyes looking up at him with so much sorrow were almost enough to make Jaskier weak, restrain himself the way he had so many times before, back when—

Almost.

"You just gave up. You didn't fight for me. You dropped me like I was nothing. You said that you had to stop treading water and reach solid ground first but you never fucking realized that I was right there, swimming next to you, holding my hand out to you."

As he finished his drink with a gulp, he could feel the tears on his face.

"Of course it wouldn't have been easy. It never is! But the difference between you and me is that you thought that breaking my heart was an acceptable alternative to just trying."

He could hear Geralt shift around on the seat next to him, but he couldn't stand to look at him.

Not anymore, not before he had said all those things that had been bubbling underneath his skin for months, eating away at him and turning him into someone he barely recognized when he looked in the mirror each day.

"That is what hurt me the most, you know? The fact that I wasn't worth that to you. That I was both too much and not enough."

With that, he threw down a couple of bills on the counter and got up so quickly that for a moment, he thought he might kiss the ground.

Somehow, he was able to keep himself steady, and with the world still spinning, he went for the door as fast as his body allowed him to.

Whether it was the alcohol that was making him nauseous or the fact that Geralt’s sheer presence made his stomach turn he did not know. All he cared about right now was getting out.

The rain felt cool on his skin, and Jaskier looked up into the night sky, letting each droplet wash away another tear.

Somewhere both too far away and yet too close, he could hear Geralt shuffle his feet.

Fucking bastard. Of course he would follow him.

"Julek..." he said, and Jaskier couldn't help but let out a whimper at that.

A wave of memories washed over him.

The gentle touch of fingers and a first kiss that turned into many, many more.

Tangled legs and arms wrapped around each other, morning breath and sleepy smiles, promises and dreams, a lifetime away.

Julek. Yours. All yours, body and soul.

”I adore you.” “I adore you, too, Julek.”

A shy smile mixed with the sweet taste of new beginnings and butterflies doing summersaults.

”I’m sorry, I wish I could give you what you need—” “Don’t do this to me, Geralt.” “I’m so sorry, Jaskier.”

Tenderness that gets crushed until there is nothing left but desperation.

"Geralt, don't. Please." He shakily wiped away a tear, not even attempting to hide them as he let the weight of déjà-vu wash over him.

"Don't apologize, don't tell me you're sorry. Because," and at that, he finally turned to look at Geralt. Really look at him, see him.

He hadn't changed a bit, his silver hair still lazily tucked behind his ears, wearing all black with that stupid leather jacket Jaskier had loved to steal.

And those eyes...

They still had the same effect on Jaskier as when they had first met, back at a friend's party, forced to make small talk as they were crammed into a corner in the living room. Just like then, Jaskier could feel himself getting pulled in, golden amber almost shining in the moonlight.

Somehow, he managed to keep himself afloat.

He cleared his throat.

"Because even now, even after all that time, I still love you. Even though you ripped my heart straight out of my chest, I would still take you back in a heartbeat if you asked."

The words hung between them like the rainclouds in the sky, heavy and uncomfortable.

"I love you, Geralt. I love you, I love you, and maybe I didn't tell you enough or I told you too much, but all I know is that I never stopped."

In a way, Jaskier wasn't surprised when his back connected with the wall behind him, knocking the air out of his lungs.

Leave it to Geralt to lash out whenever he felt cornered. But Jaskier took it, his muscles already starting to ache from the way he was pressed against the hard stone.

Anything was better than silence.

Geralt's hands felt cold on his skin, the thin shirt he was wearing doing nothing to create any sort of protection against the rain.

Soaked to the bone, and yet Jaskier was on fire.

"Go ahead, yell. Tell me what's on your mind, just once in your fucking life."

And just like that, the hands were gone, and Jaskier knew that he had hit the mark.

"That's what I thought," he said, his eyes not leaving Geralt's even once. Anger was dripping from his voice like venom, piping hot and ready to hit its target.

For once, he relished it.

Geralt was the one who was trapped with him here, in the middle of the night in this dirty alley, not the other way around.

"You know, I have thought countless times about what I would say if I ever saw you again. Practiced the conversation, you could say. But no matter how many times I tried figuring out the lines, you wanna know what always stayed the same?"

There was no answer, and Jaskier let out an ugly laugh.

"Exactly."

With that, he pushed himself off the wall and walked a few steps past Geralt before he turned around once more, running his fingers through his hair to keep the stringy strands out of his face. It was futile.

"For so long, I hoped. That you would somehow get your head out of your ass and speak to me, apologize and ask if I want to give us a second chance." His voice broke at the last sentence and he barely managed to suppress a sob.

"But then I realized that that was never going to happen. Because that would mean having to open yourself, to force yourself to be vulnerable, and all that without knowing if the risk would be worth it."

Geralt just stood there, letting each word hit him.

Jaskier hoped that each syllable felt like a bullet passing through him.

"And I know now that you're never going to do that. That vulnerability scares you more than the possibility of happiness, and you are willing to hurt those who love you to keep up this fortress you have built around yourself."

The rain was starting to get lighter, a gentle drizzle rather than a full-on downpour now.

"And if that is how you want to live your life, then I am going to accept that. I tried tearing down your walls once and nearly lost myself in the process, I have learned my lesson. That sometimes, the kindest thing one can do is allow people to remain small"

The last few droplets of rain were falling down onto the pavement before there was silence, no sound but the hammering of Jaskier's heart inside his chest.

"I am done waiting, Geralt. I miss you, gods know I do. And a part of me may always love you. But I am done waiting. Goodbye."

He could feel the water seeping into his shoes as he stepped into a puddle but he didn't care.

With each step he took, he could feel a weight lifting off his chest.

He had said what he wanted to say. There were no more tears left to cry, what was done was done.

As Jaskier turned around the corner to find his way home, he smiled.

He didn't look back.

tagging: @herostag @natilieal @luteandsword and @clarebear66 ✨

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fic #geraskiersource #kathi writes #yes the title is a reference to a harry styles song shhh

30 notes · View notes

kashacreates · 2 years

Text

✨🌈THREE PHOTOS TAG🌈✨

I was tagged by the lovely @muddshadow to do this!

rules: find 3 photos/images (they can be anything at all, memes, vintage photographs, quotes, anything) that you feel describe your wip. If you want, you can tell a little bit your story, too.

I no-pressure tag: @jezifster; @tc-doherty; @magefaery; and anyone else who wants to do this!

I’ve done:

Friends

Excerpt below the cut

The Sinful Bat loomed overhead: the tall dark spire blackening the skies above. In the twilight, the magenta lights buzzed on, inviting patrons into the safety of its music-drenched darkness.

At the end of the road, Torque spotted the crowd ambling around the base of the Bat. Vocatia, for the moment, was nowhere in sight. He side-stepped behind a nearby shop booth and ducked his head to hide under its awning. She would be a while, several hours long past curfew.

Spotting a glass bottleneck poking out of a crate, Torque tried to ignore it. Some sense of sobriety would help convince her. He tried to focus on the crowd, but the chill wind sent shivers down his neck. Sweat beaded on his brow as his eye drew back to the bottle.

If he thought to bring his helmet, he could simply slip it on. Its lack of eye holes would put the bottle out of sight and thus out of mind. Instead, he leaned his head against the wall and forced his focus ahead.

The sky fell dark and eventually the mass of bodies thinned and disappeared. Torque dozed off, the empty bottle clasped in his fingers and resting on his chest. His tail twitched as the dancers snuck past him, Vocatia eyeing him as she took up the rear.

Once the girls were home, Vocatia came back to the little liquor shop and the sleeping Warlord. She touched a glittering hoof to his tail and shoved it out of the way. Approaching him, she had to straighten her legs to pry the bottle from his fingers. A true Vactyr vintage, a gift from the home world. And much stronger than one would expect. She plucked a golden feather from her cape and stuffed it into the neck of the bottle as payment. Then she set it in the crate.

Her tail swayed as she turned to her sleeping friend. She stretched up to pat her palm against his chest plate.

A soft yellow glow came from his eyes as they opened. They flickered as he got his bearings and found her soft smile staring up at him. A small smirk played at the corner of his tusks. “Oh, good,” he hummed, lifting his fingers to caress her hand. “I was meanin’ to chat with you.”

“Oh yeah?” She asked with the soft encouragement of a patient mother. Vocatia grabbed his hand and started to step back to help him onto his hooves. “It’s gotta be important, you’ve been out here for hours.” He staggered once he got upright, the side of his tail smacking against the booth. Wrapping her arm around his thin waist, Vocatia steadied the drunken, chuckling Warlord. “Ain’t you supposed to be on the Stryker today?”

He tried to shoo her off him, gently prying her arm from him and dancing around. “Oh no, this was too important to wait until my next patrol.” Cupping her generous horns in his palms, he made her stare up at him.

Vocatia lifted a brow, becoming less amused by his slurred antics the longer he held her in place. “Somehow I don’t think you’re gonna tell me you’re leavin’ the service.”

“I want you to come back with me,” he purred, a worried wrinkle crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “I’ll make you second-in-command. I can keep you safe.”

Her nose scrunched in disgust, and she shoved his hands away from her horns. Vocatia growled, "I don't think so, mate." She stepped back, shrugging her feathery cape back onto her shoulders with a huff. “I ain't goin' back.” Pointing a claw to her scalp at the base of her thin crest, she added, “Not gettin' another bug in my head tellin' me what's what."

A pout stuck out between his tusks, disappointment dripping down his throat. He averted his eyes towards the empty alley, his tail and ears drooping. Opening his mouth to speak, he flinched when she shoved a finger in his face.

"If you want to be with me, you gotta leave the service." Her bark snapped with ultimate finality; her head tilted to challenge him eye-to-eye and aiming the tips of her horns for his throat. "Remember the plan? How're we supposed to look for our kid if we're slaves to the Empire?"

Torque slunk back, ducking his head. While her scant outfit offered little in defense compared to his armour, he knew a fight would end badly. Mares were ruthless and Vocatia was no different. “We’d have the Stryker, we’re sure to find him if he’s still on planet.”

She huffed, waving off his silly idea. “Then what? We all live happily on the Stryker, forced to be bled dry so those leeches can be satisfied?” Gripping his elbow, she forced him to turn around back towards the gate. “It ain’t happenin’.” With a hoof to the ass, she urged him to walk away. “Go sober up before you regret it, dumbass.”

Head hung low, he gave her a dejected glance before creeping back from whence he came. Vocatia watched him slink until he exited the gate. She shook her head as she turned back to the Bat. “Idiot.”

#tag game #I'm not a big aesthetics board person and ended up failing my own challenge to not use my own art lmao

9 notes · View notes

nostaren · 3 years

Text

Mr. Lonely

TOJI FUSHIGURO X READER

part 15 | series masterlist | next

Spending time with your underclassmen had proved to be really refreshing, as hesitant to the idea as you had been at first. The time was as such that you ideally should’ve been asleep by now, especially considering you had places to be tomorrow, but you didn’t feel tired in the slightest.

At exactly 3 am, you, Yuuji and Nobara were venturing the school premises, walking animatedly and acting very much like drunken fools without actually having had anything to drink. It was odd how much energy the three of you had, what with having not slept since the previous night.

“I’m telling you, he must be putting wax in his hair to have it stand up like that.”

“I don’t know, Itadori… Fushiguro doesn’t seem like the person to do anything with his hair other than brush it.”

You thought about it, Megumi standing in front of a mirror and maneuvering his hands to style each strand. You snorted at the mental image. “Definitely not.”

Itadori’s hands moved to run through his pink locks. “And I do?”

“Yes,” both you and Nobara said in unison.

His response was gleeful. “So out of the two of us, I actually take care of myself!”

You and Nobara shared a glance, immediately breaking into a fit of giggles. While not particularly regimen-conscious, Megumi definitely took better care of his hygiene, the lack of smelling of sweat nearly as frequently as Yuuji being evidence to that.

“Why are you laughing? Oh! By the way, Kugisaki, we needed to read some pages in some book until tomorrow—no, later today? I just… don’t remember which book… or which pages.”

“What!? Why the hell are you telling me now?”

“You were away with Fushiguro and Panda all day! Oh no, I forgot to tell him too—ow! Stop hitting me!”

You zoned out the rest of the conversation, not really a part of it, instead becoming lost in your thoughts while trudging along to their pace.

The original plan had been to bring Megumi with you, too, but when Yuuji had incessantly knocked on his door, his response after a few minutes was to open it, call you lot morons for waking him up over something so ridiculous, then promptly sliding it shut. Hence Megumi being the subject of discussion for a good bit of your walk when the male wasn’t there to hear any of it. Nothing too horrible was brought up, just stuff that would surely make him sneeze a couple of times.

Before Yuuji had joined in, it was Nobara that dragged you out of bed, angrily going out about how men weren’t shit and how you shouldn’t spend even one second of your precious time mulling over him. Hearing her exclaim all of that without even knowing the full story pulled at your heartstrings. Nobara proved time after time how much of an unconditional friend she was, having your back even when you didn’t ask for it.

You hadn’t really been left to sort your thoughts the whole day, having been accompanied by at least one person at all times if you didn’t count the small window between when Gojo had escorted you to your room to when Nobara had come to get you. And while it would have been comforting to spill everything to Nobara—heck, even Gojo—you held back because you couldn’t help but feel it was an irrational sadness.

Because yes, you did feel a little sad.

The feeling creeped up on you as a few minutes passed of blankly watching shadows shifting across trees and listening to the bickering of your friends, sometimes adding to it, but otherwise just tagging along.

It was from being attentive of your surroundings that allowed you to notice a fourth person. A lone figure leaned on the railing of the approaching bridge, slightly hunched over and lazily typing away at his phone.

It was by no means odd to see a person out at this hour, but within these particular school grounds? That was odd. You were outside despite it being past curfew, and you couldn’t recognize the silhouette in the distance to be one of the students. There weren't even as many students as there were fingers on your two hands, so you'd recognize any of them.

Hopefully he wasn't a teacher that you just didn't recognize, like Nanami.

Or, if he was a teacher, you hoped he was one that was as lenient about rules as Gojo.

Either way, you'd likely just pass him by and throw a casual ‘hello’ at him. No need to work yourself up over it.

But in the day's second douse of horrendous luck, your eyes, even in the dark, happened to catch sight of the particular way black strands of hair fell over his face. Your lips puckered as you took in his quite tall frame and the outline of his legs. After a moment of contemplation, you, brows furrowing, craned your neck to get a better look at him.

Was that—?

No. Fucking. Way.

“Guys let’s go that way,” you attempted to whisper over their exhilarated yelling from a heated argument, heart hammering loudly in your ears and adding to the stress of a situation you did not want to be in. When that didn’t work, you pulled at the back of Nobara’s shirt.

“Hey, that’s going to wrinkle!”

Her exclamation fell short when seeing your form shrunken on itself in an attempt at hiding.

“…you okay?”

“It’s—“ you threw a pointed glance towards the figure up front. “It’s him.”

She turned to look.

“Not so obvious,” you hissed, inwardly groaning at how there was no way a certain someone wouldn’t realize you were now talking about him if he so much as glanced up.

Yuuji meanwhile observed your exchange, oblivious to what exactly was happening but still managing to draw some (very faulty) conclusions of his own.

“Eh? Do you know him?” Yuuji squinted his eyes as if that would make him see better in the dark. To your horror, his arm moved up in a wave. “HEEEEEY!! OVER HE—mmph!”

You tackled him to the ground with a hand pressed to his mouth, tumbling into a nearby brush just as the figure ahead looked up from his phone. That left Nobara standing there awkwardly, staring at Fushiguro looking at her as if she’d grown two heads.

Your hands moved to loosely enclose around Yuuji’s throat in a mock-choking manner, whispering, “You’re a moron, you know that?”

“I know,” he whispered back. “But what did I do wrong this time?”

Your mouth opened to take your words back because now you felt a little bad, but Nobara’s “psst” interrupted you.

You looked up from Yuuji. “What do I do!?” Nobara hissed through gritted teeth.

A few seconds of deafening silence passed whereas you tried to think of something, but you apparently thought for too long because she finally decided on very obviously ducking into the bush with the rest of the crew.

Great. Real inconspicuous, Nobara. No way he could’ve seen that.

The three of you sat looking at each other with wide eyes, not knowing what to do next.

“What’s he even doing here?” you broke the silence, being mindful of keeping your voice low.

“He can’t enter without permission, so he must be here for Gojo-sensei or principal Yaga… Right?” came Nobara’s answer.

She was right. He couldn’t have gone through the barriers put up by Tengen if not invited. So had Gojo somehow found out that it was Fushiguro that was involved? Or…

You couldn’t feel even a slither of cursed energy reeking from his person, no matter how hard you concentrated, meaning he must be a civilian. Gojo had a knack for doing things inappropriately, but to invite a civilian into Jujutsu High? Surely, he didn’t…

But then again, you knew nothing of their relationship.

Either way, you just wished to remain hidden until he was done with whatever business he had here so you could make your way to the dorms and sleep the accumulated stress away.

Some shuffling from the left broke your thoughts. Yuuji was crouching down, peering through the leaves. “He’s gone.”

A collective sigh of relief was heard.

It didn’t last long.

“This peeping tom a friend of yours?”

“Uwaah!”

The three of you scrambled away from the source of the sudden voice.

While the question undoubtedly was directed at you, Fushiguro didn’t seem to know who you were.

The three of you shared a knowing glace, each expression some form of shock, feeling a little disturbed over how he had managed to sneak behind all of you, civilian or not.

His eyes skimmed over your forms, back and forth and then further to the sides as if looking for someone else. Not finding it, his eyes zoned in on you and Nobara. “So, which one of you is it?”

Nobara, immediately realizing what he meant, angrily exclaimed, “Do I look that old to you!?” and pointed an accusatory finger at you, as if you were the one to cause her offense. You wanted to tell her that three years wasn’t much, and that it wasn’t really enough to tell that much of a difference, but your mouth remained clamped shut.

Green eyes met yours. “Leave us.”

From the corner of your eyes, you saw Yuuji moving to stand. “You expect us to just leave Y/n-senpai alone with you!?”

Sweet, sweet Yuuji.

Nobara moved to stand as well, grabbing Yuuji by the arm. “We’ll be on our way now. You two take your time.”

Horrible, horrible Nobara.

You thought she’d want you to—had even told you to—move past him, not to figure things out. Admittedly, you’d rather do the former than the latter because at least then you wouldn’t need to talk about feelings yuck and you hadn’t had any time to really think whether or not to forgive him, should he apologize.

Yuuji sputtered in disagreement and you could do nothing but break eye-contact with the looming man above you to watch as Nobara dragged a flailing Yuuji behind her, wishing it was you in his stead.

“You have alllll night,” she winked.

And then you were alone with Fushiguro.

taglist: @yutaeminnie @dingdongitsbees @203steph @alltimeluw @leetucethesauce @whoreuc @mistalli @sinatraass @your-consulting-fangirl @johnnysactualgf @katzurras @levicorpses @shigaraki-is-my-master @keigobby @90s-belladonna @emerald-time @reiikonee @blackhairaddict @nellieleverlin @slash3rcore @eclqypsee @kawaiipiong @achillean-affection @angsty-microwave @kkzumee @htiaf-faith @tirzamisu @luhvsnoir @fuzzybombom

#OOOOO CLIFFHANGER??#the moment we’ve all been waiting for #is y/n finally gonna meet da worm #wingman nobara #this is unedited #I just wanted to get it out and sleep lol #I’ll fix any errors tomorrow #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #smau #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk smau #jujutsu kaisen smau #imagines

408 notes · View notes

freddie-weaselbee · 3 years

Text

Someone Blue//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight language, angst, a lot of confusion, fluffy ending

Summary: Fred spots a familiar face at his brother’s wedding, and has a sinking suspicion about why she’s acting so upset during this time of celebration.

Prompts: Enemies to Lovers (kind of) and Weddings with the dialogue prompts “you look like you need a hug” and “did you need something?”

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Day 1 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge

Angelina looked absolutely ethereal, skin glowing in the shimmering lights as she glided across the grass as if it was a ballroom floor. Her white dress was slightly stained, mostly from when her now husband tackled her to the ground after their first kiss as a married couple, and yet it only made her seem all the more angelic.

George’s feet seemed to never touch the ground. He was moving at record speeds, prancing and hopping and skipping around the dance floor, dragging his wife along with him. It was the most joyful Fred had ever seen him.

Not when they left Hogwarts, not when they opened their shop, not even when Angelina said yes to the proposal could have compared to the happiness on George’s face. Nor Angelina’s. They were in a pure state of bliss.

The rest of the wedding-goers seemed to match their energy. Fred couldn’t go anywhere without being bombarded with drunken laughs and horrid dancing, and the occasional congratulations or two from some tipsy guests who didn’t know that the man they were talking to wasn’t the groom.

All in all, it was an amazing night. The field behind the burrow had become a traditional wedding venue for the growing Weasley children, so far hosting Bill, Percy, Ron, and now George’s days to remember. The tents and lights were all set up as they were with Bill and Fleur’s wedding, except this time there was no risk of Death Eaters ruining the event. Hopefully.

However, while making his way around to talk to (and flirt with) the guests, Fred happened to notice one person who did not fit the overzealous tone. Well, he didn’t really happen to notice. Rather he’d been staring at her throughout the entire night, watching her somber mood break through her happy façade. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone.

You were standing by yourself, but you weren’t secluded from the action. Rather, you were right in the middle of things, on the very edge of the dance floor, staring out at the masses of bodies swinging their partners around. Your arms were crossed over your chest, a defensive position that Fred had seen so many times in you before.

He turned away and tried to ignore it. It wasn’t any of his business if you were upset. The two of you were barely even friends anymore. You had cut him out of your life so many years ago and never looked back. To this day, Fred still didn’t know why, and it killed him.

He wanted to walk away. To go the other direction toward a beautiful guest wearing a flowing red dress, hair done up perfectly. The stranger would be the smart choice. A fun way to spend the evening, dancing around and snogging under moonlit trees. But, against his better judgement, Fred’s heart wouldn't let him leave.

Sighing, Fred lifted his feet and made his way in the other direction, to the girl who couldn’t care less about him.

You stood unmoving, except for a subtle sway to the music. People brushed by you, but you paid them no mind. You were too focused on something else. As Fred drew nearer, he was able to follow your line of sight to the people in question. The newlyweds.

Fred bristled before softening slightly. Of course. This must be about George. Back at Hogwarts, Fred was positive you had the biggest crush on his brother. You were always tagging along with their jokes, even when they got you into huge trouble. You definitely spent more time alone with George than Fred, sharing whispers and stares at the expense of the older twin. He could never get George to break and tell him what you two talked about. George even took you to the Yule Ball in your 6th year. You had never looked as radiant as you did that night, except for maybe this moment. Fred wished he had asked you to dance at the ball, but he never worked up the courage to. He didn’t want you to internally grimace at the thought of dancing with the “lesser” Weasley twin when George was right there.

In his recollection of memories, Fred hadn’t noticed how close he had gotten to you, and how you were no longer gazing at the couple dancing. You were now staring at him.

“Did you need something?”

Fred was shaken out of his imagination, met with an annoyed glare but soft smile coming from you. His surprise was immediately replaced with his signature cocky grin, leaning his hand onto one of the wedding tables while keeping his gaze on you. Unfortunately, his hand accidentally dipped into a wine glass, but he quickly pulled it out and hoped you didn’t notice. You did.

“Well, that’s not a very nice way to greet one of your oldest friends, now is it?” Fred wiped his wine-covered hand on his suit pants and slipped it into his pocket, pretending to be unbothered by his previous mistake.

You turned your eyes away from him, once again gluing them to the dance floor. “I think it’s fitting, seeing as how you were creepily staring at me for about 5 minutes before I said something.”

Fred’s ears grew pink at the accusation. “I, umm, I didn’t realize it was that long. Or that you noticed. Sorry.” He bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to glance around at other guests who might interest him more.

“You still haven’t answered me.”

Fred cocked his head to the side in question.

“Why’d you come over here? Was there something you needed?”

“Ah, yes well,” Fred began smoothly, “I saw this darling beauty from across the tent and I just could not take my eyes off of her--”

“Fred,” you interrupted. You were looking at him again, your gaze piercing through him, forcing him to tell you the truth, to tell you everything about him. His fears, his hopes and dreams, what he had for breakfast this morning. He wanted to tell you it all.

“The truth, please.”

Clearing his throat, and his mind of whatever thoughts just plagued him, Fred decided to be honest. You deserved that much.

“You look like you need a hug,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly.

Evidently, those were not the words you were expecting to hear. You were prepared with about a dozen quips to say in response to whatever cocky joke Fred was about to make. But he didn’t, and nothing could have prepared you for what he did say.

“I--I need a what?”

“Sorry, have you lost your hearing or was I not loud enough? It’s definitely not the second; you’ve told me on numerous occasions that I have the biggest mouth of anyone you know.”

There it was. But it still made you giggle, relaxing and gravitating closer to your companion.

“I heard you,” you said, “just wasn’t expecting that from you, I guess.”

Fred took a half step closer, visibly glad when you didn’t move away. “Wasn’t expecting me to have noticed your behavior, or wasn’t expecting me to care if I did?”

It took you a few seconds to respond. “Both.”

He let out a sound of understanding before you both averted your eyes, looking straight ahead. Occasionally, Fred would try to look at you using his peripheral vision, and you would do the same. It became a kind of game--just an awkward back and forth between two people who used to be so close, and were now so far apart.

You game ended when one of the wedding guests decided to clink their glass, beginning a chorus of high pitched chimes to echo throughout the room. You watched as George turned to find Angelina, running to her to give her a kiss so full of love and passion that it took everything Fred had not to shout out a joke and ruin the moment. He could do that next time.

He noticed you stiffen at the kiss, presumably because it was just another reminder of what you couldn’t have. George.

“You know, I always wanted to be a Weasley.”

Fred was surprised that you had spoken to him, and even more surprised about the turn the conversation had taken.

“I grew up with you guys,” you continued, not waiting for Fred to respond. “Molly was like my second mother, even though she always liked Hermione and Harry a bit more than me.”

“Join the club,” said Fred, causing you to laugh loudly, a sound he hadn’t heard from you in ages. Godric, how he had missed it.

“It’s just…” you trailed off, not knowing if you wanted to be open with Fred, someone you hadn’t spoken to in years. Chances were, you wouldn’t keep in touch much after the wedding, so you might as well. What was there to lose? “It’s just...seeing Angelina, one of my best friends, dance around, wearing that ring, getting to be an actual Weasley. It’s...it’s making me a wee bit jealous.”

Fred watched you fidget with a bracelet on your wrist and decided to push his luck just a bit more. “And you’re wishing that it could be you wearing the ring, married to a certain Weasley gentleman?”

The shock was evident in your expression. “No, no, it’s not--I mean I never…” Sighing, you decided to come clean. “Yeah, I’ve maybe been harboring feelings for a certain twin for, oh I don’t know, my entire life. No biggie though, it’s totally fine that he never asked me out.”

The ginger beside you threw an arm around your shoulder, handing you a glass of wine in the process. “Drink. It makes everything better.”

You glared at him, but took the glass anyways, chugging it down in a few large gulps. “Another, please,” you demanded, and Fred obliged.

You started to ease into Fred’s side, as soft and comforting as you remembered it to be, before realizing exactly what it was you were doing. “Fred, can I ask you something?”

“‘Course. You can ask me anything.” The absolute last thing Fred wanted to be doing at the moment was talking about your undying love for his twin brother, at his wedding no less, but he didn’t want to leave you alone. Not seeing you for so long had had a harsher effect on him than he thought, and he didn’t want to leave your side.

Taking a deep breath and gathering your courage, you asked him the question that had been plaguing your mind for years. The one that ate you from the inside out and kept you tossing and turning at night. The reason you had to separate yourself from your love in the first place. “Why am I not good enough?”

Your voice broke a tiny bit, but a lot less than you had been expecting. A tear did happen to slip out, and Fred quickly wiped it away, his fingertip resting on your cheek for a moment too long.

“Y/N, love, come here.” Fred pulled you into that hug he had talked about earlier, holding you closely to his chest. If he thought you were going to appreciate the gesture, he was wrong. You pushed him away softly, refusing to let any more tears fall.

“I’m serious, Fred. W-Why am I not good enough? I’ve made it clear for years and yet...nothing. And not even a simple rejection. I could’ve handled that, y’know. If I got a simple no, I could’ve handled it and moved on. But I never did, and it’s killing me. Why am I not good enough?”

It killed Fred to see you this upset, and it hurt him even more to see that the anger was directed at him and not at George. It was his brother that broke your heart after all, not him. “You are good enough!” Fred said, with enough truth and force that a little part of you believed it. “You’re, you’re too good! You’ve been by our side from the beginning and haven’t left it since. Well, we haven’t seen you in years, but that’s probably because of--”

You nodded, confirming what he thought. Your heartbreak had driven you away.

“But other than that,” he continued, “you’ve been like my third arm. Any guy would be crazy to give you up, you know that?”

A tiny smile grew on your face, but was gone as soon as it had arrived. “The timing...the timing was just all wrong, wasn’t it?” you asked.

Fred nodded, watching his brother and his wife greet guests and take pictures that were sure to be on the mantle in the burrow as soon as the wedding was over. “Yeah, I guess so. The prick should’ve asked you out sooner.”

“Oh I agree wholeheartedly, he is a prick,” you said, poking his arm, a gesture that slightly confused him. “So, I’m guessing there’s no chance of anything happening now? No sliver of hope that maybe this could work out?”

He hated that he would be the one to crush your dreams, but he couldn’t let you keep living in false hope. “Well,” he said, “the wedding bands are on and they both said ‘I do.’ Kind of hard to come back from that. I’m sorry.”

You froze, now more befuddled than you had been all night. “I...what?”

Before Fred could say anything you reached to grab his left hand, checking his ring finger for something you knew wasn’t there, but you had to be sure.

“Wedding bands? What in the world do you--” Realization hit you like a brick, and you wanted to slap yourself. Or Fred. Either one. But preferably the latter.

“Frederick, my dear love, who do you think we have been talking about this whole time?” you asked, voice genuine but also teasing.

Fred didn’t know what you all of a sudden found so amusing, but he was already doubting himself and he didn’t want you to make fun of him for whatever he had done wrong.

“Umm, well you said a Weasley, and then you said a Weasley twin. So I thought the answer was obvious.”

“Say it,” you demanded. “Who have we been talking about? Who am I in love with after years of unrequited feelings?”

He felt like he was walking into a trap, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He hesitated for a few seconds before your searing gaze forced him to answer. “George. We’re talking about my brother George.”

No sooner had his words left his mouth than your hand came up to slap his head. “You idiot! Are you serious right now?”

Fred stood flabbergasted, racking his brain for who else you could have been talking about. George was a Weasley twin. You said you were in love with a Weasley twin. Who else was there?

“It’s you, you big oaf!”

Oh. OH! There were two Weasley twins, and he was one of them. Which meant…

“You’re in love with me?!”

By this point, heads were turned to watch the scene and people were not-so-subtly whispering to their partners.

You dragged a still surprised Fred through the crowd and out of the tents, finding a secluded enough area where you could talk.

Fred’s brain had still not been caught up. “It’s me? You’re in love with me? But, but what about George?”

You furrowed your brow, wondering how Fred could have so easily mistaken your feelings for him as those for another. “What about George?”

“You’re in love with him!”

“I most definitely am not!”

“The Yule Ball!” he spat out. “You went to the Yule Ball with him when we were 16!”

“Yes,” you said calmly, “and you went with Angelina, but I don’t see you two getting married. We went as friends and I talked to him about you the entire night. In fact, most of the time when we hung out I was talking about you. Made him swear not to tell though. I was never good about expressing my feelings.”

Fred put a hand to his head, a growing throb threatening to overtake his senses. “But why were you so sad tonight? You wanted to marry George!”

“No,” you said patiently. “I was sad because Angelina and George’s relationship worked out the way I was wishing one between you and I had. They fell in love during school, dated a few years later, and now she’s a part of your family. I wasn’t wishing it was just me out there with your brother. I was wishing that it was our wedding.”

You blushed heavily and buried your face in your hands, embarrassed by your bluntness about your feelings. “Oh, Godric, I shouldn’t have said that, now it’s more awkward. I, umm, I should probably get going.”

Fred grabbed your wrist before you could leave, pulling you into his chest. His eyes were wide, mouth hanging slightly ajar as he gazed down at your muddled expression.

“It’s me. I’m the one you love.”

He said it as more of a declaration rather than a question, but you could tell that he needed confirmation.

“Of course, Freddie,” you said. “It’s always been you.”

His hand wasted no time in going to the back of your head, pulling your face into his and melding your lips together in your first kiss with Fred Weasley. After the shock wore off, you were hastily kissing him back, hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t pull back and proclaim what a stupid mistake this all was. But he never did. You kissed and kissed and kissed until you were the one who had to pull back in order to catch your breath.

It took you both a few seconds to realize what had just happened, and for the first time you both were at a loss for words. “That was, umm…” you mumbled, trying to think of what to say.

“I love you too.”

Fred’s words were rushed out of his mouth, voice deep ragged. “I mean, when you said it was me, not George, that you loved. I, well, I love you too. Always have. Guess I just thought that you had a thing for George and I had no chance. Pretty silly of me, huh?”

“Downright stupid of you,” you replied, giggling as he pushed you away with a bashful smile gracing his lips.

“So,” he said quietly, inching closer to you once again, “is there a chance of anything happening now?” Fred repeated the words you had said earlier, making you smile wider than you had all night.

“Depends,” you said. “Are you gonna get the courage to ask me out?”

Fred waited for a moment before answering. “How about,” he said, offering his arm out for you to link with yours, “we have that dance we never got at the Yule Ball. And then that date we never got after, and then that relationship we never got as well. Oh! And then that wedding, and then a dog, maybe a few kids, a big house in the country--”

“Woahhh, slow down buddy, you haven’t ever properly asked me!”

You took his arm and made your way back to where the music continued to blare and festivities raged on.

“Y/N, love, may I have this dance?”

You pushed a strand of hair from his face, ruffling it up a little to give it that signature Fred Weasley style.

“Of course, Freddie. And every dance after that.”

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

#theweasleyslut's 2k writing challenge #fredweasleyimagine #fredweasley #fred #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fredweasleyfluff #wedding #enemies to lovers

363 notes · View notes

mrskurono · 3 years

Text

title: Sweetness || cult!Geto x sister!Reader

a/n: this is dedicated to one of my fav mutuals hopefully she’ll come back and see this ilysm babe <3 And if your mad about dark content, why you looking at dark content huh? ツ

word count: 1.6k

tags: incest, manga spoilers (if your not up to date on Getou’s entire backstory), mention of eugenics (these are villains mind you), oral (fem!receiving), handjob, cumplay, talks of breeding, dom!reader, language, pwp, semi unedited

character(s): Getou Suguru (jjk)

;| nsfw undercut |;

Getou’s mouth tasted no sweeter than the moments he had his lips around your fingers.

The only thing that would rid him of that horrific taste curses contained. Day in and day out. Searching for something to cure his aliment of such a cursed life steeped in sorrow. Until he found just what he needed. In his sister of all people.

Footsteps announce his arrival before the two women tending to you do. You stop reading the second he comes into the room. Lavished to the teeth in things only those from money could technically afford. You don’t rushto look up from the book in your lap as Getou dismisses the servants that were at your side. He argued previously that they weren’t servants but those who served his cause. You would laugh but let your little brother do as he must.

Finally when he stands in front of you long enough, you fold the book and look up at the not so little brother before you, “...you look tired Suguru.”

Those words not even an invitation. But he doesn’t care. Alone in your shared room he drops to his knees and lays his head in your lap. Replacing the book all together with his mass of black hair draped over your legs. With a gentle tug you release the rest of his wonderfully silken hair from it’s messy bun. Letting your fingers dance along the fringes of his face until combing your fingertips through his locks.

“You could have asked the servants to draw you a bath.” You remind him softly when he sighs in your presence.

“...they are not servants, those who just seek to help our cause.” Getou muttered into your thigh. His face turning to press his cheek to the warmth of your inner leg. Eye naturally closed as he relaxed into the half embrace. His arms came up to your sides as he curled them around your waist and slumped into your touch, “...You smell nice.”

“Just for you.” It was true. At all times you tried to anchor your younger brother with a sweet familiar scent. You didn’t inherit his same curse technique but as he described it over the years the least you could do was offer him an oasis in the soft smell of your skin.

Getou hummed, eyes still closed, “If only every human was like you.”

“Every human cannot be like me. Unless they were to come from me.”

He leaned into your thigh, “I strive for a world with more of you in it...if people were more like you then-”

“Shhh.” You hushed him with a gentle touch, “That’s enough. You’re tired Suguru.”

That wasn’t false. Getou nodded as he lifted his face from the crook of your legs, “...I wish to give this world nothing more than someone like you...my beautiful sister.”

Charismatic with his words. It was so easy to see why so many people would listen to your brother. Words adorn with nothing but truth, you cup his face as you lean down. Placing your lips against his in a tended exchange.

Leaning up into you Getou’s arms tightened around your waist. Wanting the kiss to deepen in the very moment. Clinging to the taste of your lips as fleeting as it was. For as long as the rancidness of a curse lingered on his tongue. Your taste left him too soon.

Broken for a breath you look at your brother’s expression and hum something with a smile. Replacing your lips with your fingers. Drawing them along Getou’s bottom lip until he opened right away.

“That’s a good boy,” You mutter softly, feeling Getou swirl his tongue around you two fingers. Sucking at them with a hint of desperation. It isn’t until you feel the low moan from him that you draw your fingers from his lips. A dribble of spit following suit.

Turning his attention to your inner thigh, Getou began pressing kisses all along your inner thigh as his words came slowly between the kisses, “...please...let me fill you. Let us make a better world together...you understand. You’ve always understood.”

Once again you hush his exhausted words. Ones you’ve heard a million times since the village was destroyed by his hands. Words you wish to live but haven’t found the right time. And as Getou’s kisses creep up your legs once more. You find it less of a thought to continue the strive for a safer word but instead only consumed by the selfish want of your brother.

Your legs fall apart. Baring the nothing you wore under your robe. Getou’s kisses did not stop at the sight of your uncovered slit. Instead he leaned forward and drew his tongue along your inner most thigh as he caught a scent of your sweet musk mixed with your everyday softness. He relished it. Finding his mouth watering. Only to bite back and look up at you for a moment.

“Go ahead...I’ve always love my little brother’s work.” You smile, touching his cheek as you guide him back between your legs.

That’s all Getou needs to hear. Your praise and your intention to everything he’s done. Within seconds his tongue finds what it’s sought out. Deviling into your folds he moans with gratitude for your taste to wash away everything bitter in the world. The sweet muskiness engulfing his senses as Getou washes his tongue over your clit.

Unmistakably greedy. He devours you in seconds. Mouth open wide as he sucks and slurps up your slit. More than accommodating when you hike one leg up on his shoulder. Hands continuing to run through his hair as Getou showers your most intimate parts in all his attention. Drawing closer and closer with a stomach tightening knot only made worse when his tongue slips inside you.

“Mmm that’s right....forget the taste of a curse. I’m right here, I’m all you need.” Your sweet musing are interrupted by moans. Falling past your lips as Getou looks up at you. His tongue writing against your entrance as his finger has found your clit. Leaving you nothing but a love drunken look down at him. Stroking his face until your fingers tangle in his hair. Tightening your grip as the wave of pleasure becomes a little too much to hold off.

A firm grip on your thighs to hold you in place. Your little brother rides out your orgasm with the slick of your cunt being licked up frantically. Getou refusing to waste one drop of your wonderful taste. Even as it’s smeared on his lips and infused in his nose. He doesn’t stop until the grip on his hair is loosened and he looks up at you. Chest heaving and smile on your lips. You touch down his face and draw your fingers over your juices on his cheeks. Wiping them clean before presenting them to his lips. Getou eagerly opening his mouth to lick them clean.

“Come here,” You tap on your thigh, “You’re not too big to sit on my lap are you?”

A very redundant question. Even as adults he wouldn’t turn you down. Getou had to perch on the side of your chair but was more than happy to do so when your hands slipped past his robes.

“Sister...” Getou mumbled when he felt your touch against his cock. Leaving him little chance to hide the twitch in his already hard member as you took him in your grasp.

“Shh...you wanted to make a world filled with us right?” You ask, looking up at him as you slowly pump his cock, “So why not do just that? Give me all your cum Suguru, and we can have all the babies in the world.”

He groaned. Lewd words making him grip the edge of the chair as your hand squeezed him. He could feel every nerve in his body on fire. Pleasure from your hand, the taste of you on his lips and the sweet scent he only knew as his big sister. Left Getou a mess as he looked down fuzzy with pleasure at your hand.

With the way your fingers moved over his swollen tip. Smearing his precum as you went like it was second nature to do so you. No one knew his body like you did. Getou would not argue that. The way you made him feel. It was the reason you were the only surviving member left. He needed you as badly as he wanted you.

“S-Shit-” Teeth clenched Getou huffed in one ragged breath. Urging you to perhaps stop if you wanted to go further. But that fell on deaf ears.

Your fingers curling around his cock tighter. You quicken your pace only a moment before you felt the throb to his cock. A smile crossing your lips as there wasn’t even a warning before his cum spilled all over your hand. Getou’s low rumbling moans filling the space between the two of you as he rode out his orgasm with each slow stroke of his cock.

Even as the last dribble of cum oozed out of him. Getou was left taking a deep breath. Suddenly feeling as tired as you said he looked. With a half lidded look he watched you with his cum soiling you hand. For a second he didn’t realize what you were doing before you took his cum and smeared it on your cunt.

Feeling his cum slimy and sticky on your cunt. You make sure he’s watching as you dip your fingers inside and with it, Getou’s cum, “Lets make a world safe for us. Lets fill this world with nothing but sweet love Suguru.”

#tw:incest #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #suguru getou #suguru geto #jjk geto #jjk getou #suguru getou x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru getou smut #suguru geto smut #geto smut #getou smut #threethirst

612 notes · View notes