#she wants to sleep in his ribcage nestled against his heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bardic-inspo · 29 days

Text

Dhampir Dreams

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Generic/Unnamed)

Part 1 of 2

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Key Tags: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, body worship, light dom/sub, light bondage, light praise kink, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia, cunnilingus, PIV, Astarion’s past trauma, smut with so many feelings but nearly no plot, character introspection

Summary:

Tav saw beauty in Astarion he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like. Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her. Or: an angsty-turned-horny character study about the pale elf and his thoughts on creating new (un)life.

A/N: This is my first stab at writing a more generic Tav. Tav in this piece is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Most other identifying features are left out.

Click here to read on AO3 instead

Astarion’s never thought much about making another vampire.

In the rare moments the notion occurred to him, he shoved it to the far back shelf of his mind so as not to waste himself on an exercise in futility. What did it matter, after all, while Cazador still lorded over him?

More than anything, Astarion yearned to see Cazador’s blood spill. In his mind’s eye, he’d watch it pool across the floor, not unlike the way he'd seen so much clothing puddled at so many heels. The lake he’d make of his master would be wide enough to swallow the garments of all who’d stripped bare before Astarion. Every sweat-soaked night he found himself bound to another moldering mattress beneath someone else’s weight, rocking through the motions that left his stomach sour, he’d fill his mind with such sweet dreams as Cazador’s death.

Whether Cazador would allow Astarion to drink his blood before being relieved of it varied with the fantasy. The dream changed as often as the hands on Astarion’s hips. It mattered little to him whether Cazador’s end came with true vampirism or not. As long as he ended.

As long as the vile river of shit that comprised Astarion’s life ended, one way or another. For better. Or for good.

Of course, he flirted with the fantasy of his own spawn, sent out like skittering spiders to dispense his will. Foul little monsters they would be. Fine tools to have in his arsenal; Astarion would only want such wretches of his own the way one might want a hammer to pound a nail. And what he wanted didn’t hold any weight while bound in Cazador’s chains.

So the idea recoiled into the dusty recesses of his mind, collecting cobwebs kitty-corner to such out of reach trophies as freedom from his servitude to Cazador and the sun itself. Both still gleamed, despite the tarnish of time and hope rusted over. Despite Astarion’s prayers, no heroes came to save him. No gods or slayers or saviors spared him from his servitude.

Until the illithids did.

Despite everything -- the centuries of torment, the hollow where his heart should be, its silence in his ribcage, the scars on his back, the thousands of other lashes that Cazador let fade from his porcelain skin -- Astarion did the one thing Cazador could never.

He stood in the sun. And on the sands of that same beach, another miracle washed ashore. A contradiction. His counterweight to everything else he’d ever known.

Tav.

Astarion’s hands roam the supple shape of her nestled against his bare chest. Her breath crests and falls soft and rhythmic, like the gentle slap of waves against the cliffs where they first found each other. His darling is always so serene in her sleep. Astarion dips his head down, nosing her splayed hair on the pillow, drinking in the lovely scent of lavender that always lingers with his lover.

Often, he wakes before her, as he does now in the dim blue light of dusk. Not yet dark enough for him to step outside, but for the moment, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be. Not even in the raw, rippling light of day.

The smell of her has his eyelids heavy again, the steady patter of her heartbeat hypnotic in his head. His hands curve over the flare of her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tunic. He stifles the satisfied hum that bubbles in the back of his throat as his palm smooths down the lithe stretch of her stomach. He resettles with his nose in the crook of her neck, eyelashes grazing the twin puncture scars that mark her as his.

He’d thought, once, that he’d ascend and have her at his side for an eternity. He was scared. Frantic. Grasping. He thought he had to grasp at something, fashion some sort of tether, to have her. Thought he had to have power, and enough of it, to keep her. Now he holds her every morning in the bed they share, until day becomes night again. It’s as effortless as blinking.

Now, the thought of turning Tav into a vampire turns his stomach.

His lips brush, tender, to the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He loves those marks he gave her. He loves the way her fingertips tap against them when she’s lost in thought. He loves the way she arches into his arms as he feeds, the way her body gives and gives to him alone. That sleepy, slap-happy smile she has when he’s lapped his last for the evening. The way her eyes roll back, and she gasps, breathless, as he kisses a trail from her neck to a nipple and sucks fervently.

He loves that he’s marked her, but that it didn’t change her. He can still curl into the heat of her skin at night. Still watch her preen in a mirror. Still stare at those gorgeous eyes and know the shade of them is hers. Her cheeks still turn the shade of sunrise when he leans in with a lustful whisper, or grazes her waist with a feather-light touch.

Absently, his fingers follow the path of an old scar on her stomach. At its end, he finds the start of softness. Astarion loves that, too. She didn’t used to be soft there, when they were just surviving. They’re not just surviving anymore.

Perhaps he’s changed her after all. It’s not so scary anymore to admit she’s turned him, too. Not to the light, or anything so nauseatingly righteous. But rather, so Astarion could see himself in it. Even if his days of standing in the sun are done.

I’ll be your mirror, she vowed, what feels like another lifetime ago. She smiled in that fond way of hers that, at the time, hurt to look at too long. He scoffed at her poetic ruminations on his hair curling near his ears. The creases when he laughs.

Tav saw beauty in him he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.

Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.

He’s thought of Tav as a mother before. It flitted through his mind when Astarion watched her ease Arabella’s pounding heart with the gentleness of her own. That feeling lingered when Yenna joined their camp, and Astarion caught Tav teaching her cards. Combing the snarls from the girl’s hair. Coaching her in the basics of swordplay.

She’d be a wonderful mother. Astarion has no doubts in that regard. And he, well…

He doesn’t have an example to look back on, or one to look up to. But he has his compass. Tav’s heart beats, sure and steady, in his ear. That sound’s guided him through so much else. How could he lose his way for long, if there were two pitter-patters to listen to?

His palm paints cool over that blooming softness in her stomach. An ache burns in his own. The sort of hunger her blood won’t sate. Would she taste even sweeter, he wonders, with her body rounded and swollen?

Of course she would. So hard to improve something so perfect already. But she’d be radiant, if she were ripe with their child.

And after, when their babe is born, and her body is new all over again, he'd love every line, every fold, every mark that came from their coupling. He’d worship every part of her that was remade by the two of them to make the three of them. Marvel at the way the same body that first truly fed him would feed their child, too.

He’d help her find her way back to pleasure in her own way, in her own time. Just as she did for him. His Tav gives, and gives, and he’d give her anything, everything, for the rest of his days, if a wretch like him would be so stupidly blessed to be the father of her child.

Astarion pulls a breath between his teeth, his nose flooding with her floral scent again. That would change, too. She’d carry new notes in her sweat, in her slick, in her blood, while carrying their babe. Astarion wants to taste them all, to learn what songs she can sing while he does.

Instinctually, he presses to the plump of her ass to soothe the building stiffness in his cock. He plants a muted hum in the fabric of the pillow. His groin throbs to the thump-thump of his compass, beating oblivious beneath her ribs.

He pictures pouring into her, night after night, his spend spilling in little translucent rivers down her slicked thighs, overflowing from her cunt. Too much for her to hold in, but she’d take him as long as it takes until life sparks inside of her. Tav’s determined in all her undertakings. Resilient.

And in his dreams, she’s pliant. Pleading.

“Star, please.”

She’s trembling in that slinky, translucent nightgown she wears to bed sometimes. The one that hardly hides her skin, but cloaks it in a delectable, silvery sheen. He likes it too much to ruin it. Or at least, he has every other night.

Oh, he’d like to ruin it, now.

Tav’s pupils are blown black with want. Sweat shimmers on her skin, spurring his tongue to swipe his own lips. Her shoulder peeks bare from her nightgown, and Astarion can see her pebbled nipples, dark beneath the sheer silk that separates them. Hardened with hardly a touch. A feeling he’s intimately familiar with. His cock twitches as he strokes the back of his hand over the soft swell of her breast.

“Aren’t you sore, sweet thing?” He tries for tender, but it comes out coarse. Rough like the way he wants to grip her hips.

“So be gentle,” she says with a sultry smile, lips peeled apart and glistening just enough that Astarion can’t peel his eyes away. “I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Astarion slinks forward, crowding her against the edge of the bed. Careful, like cradling glass, his palm reaches out to cup the side of her cheek. She sighs into the touch, the curve of her smile reaching the heel of his hand.

“Always,” he says reverently, before his voice sinks to a growl. “You’re always so, so eager…for me.”

Her lashes flutter low over hungry eyes. All it takes is one little wordless bob of her head for Astarion’s own hunger to have the best of him. With a lazy roll of his wrists, he shoves her back with kind but firm force. The mattress bends with her impact, her breathless laughter nearly lost beneath the whine of the wooden frame. Astarion crawls after her, hands fisting in her nightgown, and pulling her free of it.

And then, she’s bare beneath him. Writhing from his tongue and teeth. Gasping out the best words he’s ever heard. Astarion downs them like a man starved, kissing her with the kind of fervor he thought reserved for bloodlust. But her lips, the promises they pour, are sustenance all on their own.

“I’m yours,” she whispers, “all yours. Always. All of me.”

Astarion can’t stifle the whine that drags from some hollow in his chest he never knew about before.

The bed creaks as he hitches one of Tav’s limber legs up over his shoulder and nips a path of sharp kisses from her ankle to the crux of her thigh. He pauses, sweeping a feverish gaze over the spread of her: legs parted in his grip, that perfect slit, already wet with want, the rest of her sprawled naked across the bed, at his mercy, at his desire, at her own.

He leans down, tongue dipping leisurely through her cunt. Always, she swore. So there’s no hurry in how he takes apart the woman he loves so dearly, in one of her favorite ways to be unmade. No matter how many times she claws the sheets and hisses, “Please, Star. F-fuck, I need you inside of me.”

It turns something in the depths of him to hear his own name said as a prayer. It makes him want with a force and harshness stronger than any thirst he’s felt for blood. He wants to turn her. Change her. Forever, for good. For the life they could make from their bodies, bound as close as souls could be. He wants to see her swell with the love they make, with all the love he’ll leave inside her.

She’s so close, her legs quaking violently when her hand tangles his hair and yanks his head upright. She’s beautiful, flushed ruby red, taking her air in shallow doses. Her eyes burn with equal measures adoration and reproach.

Astarion smirks, unrepentant, lips smeared with devotion. “My love, any work of art takes time. And that’s what we’re making, you know. When others look upon our progeny, they will weep in the sight of such beauty.”

“If all it takes is time, dearest,” she says, with a smile just as filthy, “then I don’t want to waste one second of it lying here empty.”

“Mmm,” Astarion sighs, nosing down against her throbbing clit, eyes flashing back to hers as he dares another lick. Her fist tightens in his hair. Astarion only chuckles.

“You’re right, of course,” he croons. “That won’t do, at all. I do recall promising to-- how did you put it the other night? ‘Fuck you full and senseless’? I’m more partial to what you begged me for a tenday ago, when I had you face-down and waiting for me as soon as the sun was set. Remind me again, my love, what you said when you weren't gasping my name?"

Astarion presses the tip of his tongue to her clit again and tastes her rapid, ravenous pulse in the heat of it. Tav’s hips jerk in response, but he holds her fast.

“I-I said I want-- that I want--”

“You want me to ‘breed you like a damn animal’," he finishes for her. "Oh, don’t be shy now, my sweet. We’re far past that. And we want the same things, after all. But," he sighs, letting his lips drag through her flushed folds, "I've another promise to keep, first.”

Astarion flicks his wrist, muttering magic beneath his breath. Tav’s sharp little yelp of surprise shoots heat straight to his groin. His cock throbs as she settles again, arms bound above her head by his mage hand, tits bouncing from the slightest struggle against her restraints. She smirks up at him, eyes aflame with fresh desire. Escape is the farthest thing from what she wants.

“You lie back now, dear,” Astarion drawls. “You’ll take me soon enough. You’ll be so good for me, like you always are, and take everything I give you. And I’ll take very, very good care of the woman I intend to make a mother.”

Astarion watches her keenly, tracing his forefinger down through her slick. He unfurls it, circling her cunt daintily, and watching her writhe for even the faintest promise of friction. He’s not sure if it’s his mercy or his selfishness that readily discards the thought of keeping her here, just like this, for the rest of the day. She’s mesmerizing, with the way her back arches from the blankets, and how her body strains towards any touch he’ll spare her.

All mine, he thinks, with a smile that makes him feel weightless. He grounds his hardened cock against the edge of the bed, groaning. All yours, darling. Just for you.

Pride rumbles low in his chest as he sets his mouth back to work again and knows she can’t cover her own. There’s no muffling his name pouring from her lips. No hiding how she cries for him. Her whole body winds taut, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue.

Finally, finally, he lets his finger slip inside her. Astarion sighs into a satisfied purr, letting the tremble of it soak into her sex. Her cunt’s a vice around his knuckle. Every pump of his finger feeds the building burn inside him, fanning the ache to be sheathed in that tightness. He only aches more, feeling her squeeze around his finger, and knowing she longs for him just the same.

He slips in a second finger to join the first, feeling her spread and then clench anew. Astarion ruts aimlessly into the mattress, in time with the thrust of his wrist. The head of his cock weeps anticipation with the rogue tear trailing down the side of her cheek. It’s only pleasure that makes her cry.

There’s only love in her heavy-lidded gaze as she pants, “Please.”

Mercy, then, Astarion resolves. For both of them.

Her thighs quiver against his ears like leaves in a breeze. Astarion swirls his tongue against the bud of her clit and sucks tightly. Tav stiffens abruptly. His arms hook firm around her legs as a shattered sound breaks from her throat,and a hard tremor courses through her hips.

He holds her through it, pinning her to the bed until just the faintest brush of his lips has her shuddering. The start of her plaintive whimper has him easing back. A murmured word sets her wrists free of her restraints. Her heart still hammers, sumptuous, in his head, as he peppers her legs in kisses soft as velvet.

“Beautiful,” he whispers with each one, slinking up her body while she comes back down. “So, so beautiful.”

He thinks of new life, as his knee bends between her thighs and drags her open all over again. He thinks of the graveyard, where he had her freely beneath the stars, in the dirt where he woke centuries ago. He thinks he’d be happy to die again, this way, as he slides forward and buries himself inside her waiting heat.

Astarion grates out a long, low moan as he basks in the wrap of her arms and her cunt. Dimly, he feels her fingertips threading gently through his curls. He thinks of sunlight on his skin again as he sinks in fully, bracing his arms on either side of her head, letting his forehead tilt against hers. He can feel her pulse thrumming through her body, through his cock, through his fogged-over thoughts. His hips roll to the sound, as if it beckoned him to motion. Tav’s head drops back into the pillows. She lets out a long, contented hum, while her body rocks in time with his.

“Is this what you needed, darling?” He huffs a laugh, catching her lips in chaste kiss. It’s enough for her to taste her own sweetness. And one squeeze from her cunt is enough to cut his breath away all over again.

“I think you needed me, too,” she purrs.

“Y-yes,” he stammers through bared teeth, his throat tied taut as she wrings him for all he’s worth. “Yes.”

She knows exactly what he needs, what he yearns for. He needs her, needs this, needs to see his seed seeping from her fucked-out hole, pink and puffy and leaking. He’ll know the rest of it was spent so deep inside her, her fertile womb is flooded. That’s his, too, with the rest of her.

Hips high for me, beautiful, he’ll say, when his last thrust is done. And he’ll hold her legs up against his shoulders, kiss her heels, and slip the pillow beneath her pelvis. Just to be sure it takes.

It’ll be another couple months before they’ll start to see the fruit of their efforts. Until Tav starts to bloom with it. And then, he’ll be hard pressed not to have his hands on her every hour. Cupping the fresh heft of her breasts as they grow with the passing days, heavy from him, for the babe growing in her belly. He’ll soothe her weepy eyes and tits alike, with a skilled tongue and sweet whisper. Rub her shoulders to ease the new weight her bones carry. Draw his nose down her neck and smell not just her, but himself, and the consequences of what they did, right here in this bed.

Feel her change beneath his hands and feel so fucking proud to be the reason.

Pleasure winds, binding, around his cock, and he feels that hunger snap its jaws around him all over again. His hips snap with it, jerking frantically. I need you, all of you, he thinks, and if he weren’t already fucking her, he’d be on his knees, begging for all he’s worth. Her cunt quivers, and he’s lost to the grip of her. Astarion shoves his own knuckles in his mouth to stifle a strangled cry.

“Star?”

Astarion rips awake in a sweat. He sees familiar wooden beams above his head, above his bed. Sunlight streaks the floorboards, leaking from behind the curtains. Turning his cheek, he finds his lover peering at him from over her shoulder, concern wrinkling her face. Tav still lays on her side, and Astarion still presses against her back. But his hand clamps tight to her thigh, bare where he hiked up her tunic. And his cock twitches fitfully against her ass, unspent and painfully hard.

Just a dream, then. For now, at least.

He lets out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into the sheets. Tav tilts her head, the worry in her gaze gradually dissolving into a mischievous gleam.

“I thought you might--” she starts, snickering, “but you were having sweet dreams, weren’t you?”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Astarion mutters mournfully as he buries his face in his pillow. “You were there, of course.”

Astarion rarely sleeps anymore. It’s not normal, not natural for an elf. But it was a trick he taught to dodge Cazador’s torment at least for a few hours a day. Reverie used to mean putting the horrors on repeat. He’d slowly eased from the habit, now that he has new memories worth seeing a second, third, or hundredth time.

Still, occasionally, he drifts to sleep without meaning to. Sometimes, he wanders off into novel nightmares. Or, if he’s lucky, he dreams of making love to his wife and making her pregnant. Of making their own little dhampir.

His hips shift, and he hisses. Pre-cum seeps from the head of his cock, slickening the shaft. It’s not enough. Not after such a succulent fantasy. But one touch from his darling might have him sated, if not entirely satisfied. Pleasure stabs, sharp, through his groin as she shifts and brushes him with her motion. He grimaces.

Just one touch alone could do it.

“I’m here now,” she smirks, twisting to face him. Her hand slips down between them. Mercy, he thinks, as her fingers wrap his length. He thrusts into her palm with a pleading whimper. “Tell me all about these dreams of yours.”

A/N: If you're yelling "Let him breed!!" at the screen just know I'm right there with you holding a megaphone about it 💜

If there's interest (from others & myself) perhaps there might be a part two where Tav takes matters into her own hands. Makes him say exactly what he wants, if he wants to have it so bad 👀

EDIT: This is now officially a part one of two 😉

If you'd like me to add you to a tag list for future one-shots, or all of my future BG3 fic (including multi-chapters), leave me a comment and let me know which you'd like!

& HUGE thank you to some lovely Discord and Tumblr friends/moots who cheered me on as I worked on this one! 💜

Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

Banner credit to @cafekitsune

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #tavstarion #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion breeding #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion x f!tav #f!tav x astarion #my writing #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate

629 notes · View notes

cordeliawhohung · 6 months

Note

If you’re still doing requests can I get some Simon/Spook fluff? Like sitting on the tub together him just there with knees bent, her between them laid back against him, maybe dozing, and his personal thoughts about it (it being the entire relationship/feelings) I’d LOVE if it was post Everything You Touch (like if she survives and is healed) and his thoughts on that situation. But doesn’t have to be canon to the actual fic as I’m sure you don’t want spoil it. Listen I’d write this FOR you, but I don’t have the courage to ask you for permission to.

okay so, apologies this took awhile to get out. you sent in this request as i writing a very similar scene for the actual story and i was like welp al;sdkjf but now that i'm extremely sick i got the time to sit down and write :3 so in this non-canon little drabble, spook was never seriously injured and is in a bit better head space than canon story just because i wanted to try and keep this as soft and fluffy as possible for you <3 also because y'all deserve some fluff after all the hurt. (also i am like SICK sick and i did my best to edit but apologies if this is a jumbled mess)

wc: 1k

Warm water enveloped his body as best as it could in the small tub Simon found himself shoved into. Legs bent and knees several inches above water, he was honestly a bit cold, especially with the icy surface of the tile against his back. But he would face the freezing cold and more if it meant he got to hold you like that forever. With you nestled between his legs, your back pressed right up against his chest as you leaned your weight into him, trusting him enough to not let you slide down into the water. Not that you really had much room to do so, anyway, with how you had to keep your own legs bent to accommodate all the room he took up.

How long had it been since he was last able to hold you like that? A time that wasn’t in some taunting dream that haunted him over the countless sleepless nights he had suffered over the last month? When was the last time he could let his fingertips wander over your body, feeling the goosebumps as they stood up along your skin in his wake? He had spent so much time trying to remember the sound your heart made when it thudded in your chest that he almost didn’t think about how he might not ever get to hear it again.

Simon leaned forward some, arms wrapping around your center as he pulled you closer to him. It was like he wouldn’t be satisfied until you were nestled in the strict confines of his ribcage, and even then he wasn’t too sure. Melting into him, your hands reached up to rest on his arms, almost as if giving him permission to devour you. But he would never do such a thing, and instead, he pressed his lips gently against the back of your head before allowing himself to settle down once more.

“You’re so comfy,” you spoke up, quiet voice echoing off of the smooth bathroom walls.

“Not gonna fall asleep on me are ya, sweetheart?” he teased softly.

“I might.”

And that would be fine, he thought. He hadn’t been blind to the difficulties you had sleeping those nights. You were lucky if you were able to fall asleep before two in the morning, and even luckier if you didn’t wake up a few hours later in a cold sweat. Sometimes he was afraid to touch you in those moments, fearing he’d wake you; break you. But then? With the water washing away the stench and the filth of everything the two of you had endured, it was like being reborn. There was something to be said about being made anew while holding you in his arms. Maybe in time he’d find the words.

“Sure you don’t want to wash up first?” he prompted, though he didn’t dare move an inch.

“Yeah,” you said softly, eyes long since closed.

“The water’ll get cold.”

“You’ll keep me warm.”

He would. He’d set himself on fire if it kept your fingers from going stiff. And though flames were nice, nothing was quite as warm as flesh blood, and he’d pour every drop out of himself if you asked him to. How maddening it was, knowing he’d destroy himself for you.

Simon continued to hold you as he listened to your breaths slow and body go limp. If you weren’t already asleep, you were damn close to it. It was as his skin started to prune that he realized he wanted to grow old with you; if a man like him would ever have the opportunity to, anyway. There was something that was healing about your presence, something he couldn’t place for the longest time. Eventually he realized it was purpose.

You gave him a purpose that wasn’t bloody. One that didn’t involve guns or knives and skinning humans as if they were livestock. All you required of him was the softest touch he could muster, and the press of his lips against your skin. You were the first thing in his life that didn’t demand his violence, and yet also the first thing he’d glady turn into a monster for if it meant keeping you safe.

Suddenly, your body jerked, and the bathwater splashed around with your movement. His arms tightened around you as you let out a sharp sigh before quickly relaxing again.

“I fell,” you said simply.

“Fell?” he repeated.

“Yeah, like… you know when you’re falling asleep, and it feels like you’re falling through the bed?” you asked, to which he hummed in response. “I fell.”

“Good thing I was here to catch you.”

He could feel you roll your eyes in response to him, but even if he couldn’t see your face he knew you smiled. Before you could say anything snarky in response, he leaned down and kissed your shoulder.

“C’mon,” he urged, “starting to prune.”

Before you knew it, he had dried you off and gotten you dressed in the most comfortable pajamas he could find before wrapping you in as many blankets as your body could handle. It didn’t take you long to fall back asleep, face relaxed as your shoulders moved with your soft breathing.

He couldn’t help but stand at the foot of the bed and watch you for a moment. His eyes traced the features of your face, how your eyelids intermittently fluttered, how your lips slightly parted. You were all his. His to cherish, love, protect. Every time he looked at you there was this feeling that blossomed in his stomach, a question that bubbled in the back of his throat, something that he wasn’t sure he should entertain quite yet.

For the time being, he settled for sliding into bed next to you. His warmth enveloped you better than any blanket could, and the security of his body was more comforting than anything else you could ever imagine. As the two of you laid there, minds slowly beginning to wander into a fuzzy world, Simon promised himself he wasn’t ever going to let go of you again.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #soft spot

169 notes · View notes

weemssapphic · 1 year

Note

hiii, I hope you are having a great day!

I was wondering... i know it was hard to write lipstick stain buuut would you consider doing a part 2?

hello, i hope you're having a lovely day as well! a couple people asked if i would write a second part so... here it is! ao3 link is in the title <3

for those who haven't read part one: here's a link (it's also in my masterlist)

content/warnings: Larissa takes reader out on a date - nsfw (dom!larissa), age gap (reader is 21+), sexual shapeshifting, praise kink, alcohol consumption, cunnilingus (reader receiving), corruption kink if you squint?

words: ~4.5k

Lipstick Stains - Pt. 2

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

previous chapter | next chapter | series page

Moonlight filtered into the living room of the apartment you shared with your friends, the soft glow a stark contrast to the harsh light coming from the home screen of Netflix that illuminated the television.

You’d somehow managed to field most of your roommate’s questions about your afternoon, wanting to keep the “juicy details”, as Christin put it, to yourself, and soon the topic had moved on to Cassandra’s failing love life, your upcoming midterm exams, and where you would all go for your spring break trip.

Pizza boxes and empty beer bottles were strewn across the coffee table. Christin was nestled in Robin’s arms on the larger of the two couches, Cassandra curled up on the smaller couch, leaving you on a pile of fuzzy blankets on the floor. You didn’t mind - you were wide awake anyway, mind going a mile a minute.

You grabbed your phone from where it layed next to you, beginning to flick through each of your social media apps, hoping for a brief reprieve from the woman that plagued your every thought, from the growing ache between your thighs. The reprieve did not come. Instead, you found your thumb hovering over your contacts app. A quick glance at your roommates told you they were out cold. You scrolled down to the ‘L’s, finding Larissa’s name and opening a new message.

A glance at the time told you it was 1:34 am. There was no way in hell she’d be up. Even if she were… she’d have something better to do, you were sure of it. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, staring at your phone, thumbs hovering over the screen as you debated whether or not to text her.

A snore to your right brought you out of your daze. You locked your phone, groaning and dropping your head to the floor. What had this woman done to you, in such a short amount of time?

You picked yourself up off the floor, switching off the television and heading out of the living room in the hopes that a cold shower and a decent night's sleep would get your mind off the older woman.

Of course, you were sorely mistaken. You couldn’t get your mind off her, no matter how hard you tried, and by the middle of the week, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You found yourself pacing your room on a Wednesday afternoon, finger hovering once again over Larissa’s contact, typing out and deleting a message over and over again. Everything you came up with sounded so stupid - so juvenile. Perhaps she’d appreciate a phone call instead?

Fuck it. You pressed the ‘call’ button and lifted your phone to your ear, heart beating faster with each passing ring, until it pounded against your ribcage, struggling to break free.

“Larissa Weems?” Her tone was cool, professional, put together - while you felt like you were coming apart at the seams.

“Hi,” you breathed out. “It’s Y/N. You know, from the-”

“I know who you are.” You could practically hear the woman smirk at the other end of the line. “I was wondering when you would call.”

At least she remembers your name? That has to count for something?

“Uh, right. Yeah. I was just wondering how you were doing? And, maybe, if you were free sometime?” You stopped your pacing to shuffle from foot to foot, glancing out the window to watch the cars pass by on the street below.

Larissa’s melodic laugh reached your ear and your stomach flipped pleasantly. “I’m doing well, thank you.”

There was a brief pause in which time seemed to stand still as you wondered what she was thinking, whether she was going to try to let you down gently. And then - “What do you say I take you out to dinner on Friday?”

Dinner? Somehow you’d just been expecting a hook-up, you hadn’t dared hope the woman would show any interest in you beyond relieving some sexual frustration.

“Darling?” You realized with a jolt that Larissa was waiting for a reply.

“Y-yes, of course, I’d love to go out to dinner with you.”

“Wonderful. The earliest I can make is 7, I hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You couldn’t help the victorious grin that was spreading across your face, the butterflies that were erupting in your stomach.

“Where can I pick you up?”

You recited your address and said goodbye to Larissa, barely having hung up the phone before falling back onto your bed and squealing in delight. The panic would set in soon enough when you realized you had no idea where you were going or what you should be wearing.

~~~

Friday came both far too quickly and far too slowly for your liking. Your roommates teased you relentlessly, though they thankfully had the mercy to make themselves scarce when the afternoon of your date with Larissa came upon you.

Robin and Christin excused themselves early to go on a date of their own while Cassandra helped you with your makeup, distracting you with some horror stories of hook-ups with frat boys from her freshman year.

When it was time for you to get dressed, she gave you a quick hug and shut herself in her room, turning Spotify all the way up to give you your space.

6:57 pm. You gave yourself a once-over in the mirror. You’d opted for a long black skirt and a baby blue silk blouse with just the top button undone. Cassandra had done a great job with your makeup - you didn’t usually wear eyeliner, but you had to admit it suited you, drawing attention to your eyes. You hoped Larissa would like it.

Your phone buzzed and you reached for it automatically. Larissa.

“Hi, are you here?”

“I believe so, though the parking here is a little confusing.”

It was your turn to laugh - she was right, the set-up of the student apartment buildings wasn’t very visitor-friendly. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll be right down.”

You grabbed your keys and your wallet, stuffing them into a little clutch that you’d dug out of the back of your closet, praying you were dressed fancy enough for wherever Larissa was taking you. She dressed rather expensively and you were sure her taste was no different.

You took the steps two at a time, somehow managing not to twist an ankle in your heeled boots, and scoured the parking lot for your date, finally spotting the woman leaned against a deep blue Rolls Royce at the other end of the lot, busy typing away on her phone.

Your cheeks warmed as you drank in her form. Her dress was silver, off-the shoulder, cinched at the waist. The fabric rippled off her hips like a waterfall, stopping just shy of her ankles. Her hands were gloved and she wore a long coat and heels that added a few inches to her already impressive height. She was stunning - and you were definitely underdressed.

You waved to her as you approached, finally getting her attention. A warm smile spread across her face and she opened the passenger door for you, gesturing for you to get in.

“Chivalrous,” you remarked, a shy smile playing on your lips.

“I can be.” Her hand brushed your shoulder and she threw you a wink before closing your door and heading over to the driver’s side.

Larissa put the car in drive and pulled onto the street, her right hand coming to rest on your thigh. “I’ve taken the liberty of making a reservation at my favorite restaurant, I do hope you’ll enjoy it.”

You swallowed hard as her thumb began to draw slow, lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt. “I’m sure I’ll love it, Larissa.”

The drive was short, less than 10 minutes, and most of it was spent humming along absentmindedly to the radio as Larissa continued her ministrations on your thigh, shooting you a glance every so often.

She pulled into the parking lot of one of the most expensive restaurants in Burlington. You moved to open your own door but Larissa was faster, having maneuvered swiftly around the car and pulled the door open for you. She placed a hand on the small of your back as she led you into the restaurant and a shiver ran up your spine, your skin burning from the contact despite the layers of fabric between the two of you.

You were led to a booth at the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes. The waiter brought you a pair of menus as well as the wine list, before tilting his head towards you, an apology already formed in his eyes.

“Miss, I apologize but I will have to see your ID.”

Your cheeks burned as you rifled through your purse, while Larissa busied herself with the wine list to hide the smirk forming on her lips.

The waiter checked your ID and, once satisfied, apologized again and left you to peruse the menu.

You looked at the woman across from you and saw her shoulders begin to shake with laughter.

“Hey,” you pouted, searching the table for something you could possibly toss at her to get her to stop giggling. “I’m of age, you know.”

“I never doubted that you were,” Larissa suppressed another giggle and, finally, met your gaze. “Has anyone ever told you how adorable you look when you pout like that?”

“I don’t look adorable,” you grumbled, crossing your arms and furrowing your brow, before realizing Larissa had you exactly where she wanted you. “This really isn’t fair, you know that, right?”

“Darling, I never said I played fair.” Her eyes darkened and her voice dropped an octave as she leaned across the table, her hand coming to cup your cheek. Her thumb grazed your bottom lip and you sucked in a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

“You’re a tease,” you whined.

“I have a feeling you’ll come to enjoy it,” Larissa shot you a playful wink before settling back in her seat. “Now, let me spoil you.”

If the wetness pooling between the apex of your thighs was anything to go by, this was going to be a long night.

Larissa ordered a bottle of her favorite red for the table and insisted, with a pointed glare, that you don’t pay attention to the prices on the menu. The two of you spoke about art and culture as you waited for your food, and you chattered on about your art history courses. She seemed genuinely interested in your life as she rested her chin on her hand, fully captivated as she watched you with a glint in her sapphire eyes.

“So, what is it that you do?” you asked. The woman opposite you intrigued you so - by the time your food arrived, you felt you’d been blabbering at her all evening, and you didn’t know a single thing about her yet.

“I’m the principal of a school.”

“Oh? Sounds intense. Which school?”

“Nevermore Academy.” Larissa seemed to tense slightly, eyes carefully searching every inch of your face.

Your brows furrowed as you thought, carefully chewing a piece of your food. “Oh - that school for… uh, Outcasts?” You tried to recall if you were using the correct term - your roommate, Robin, had grown up in the area and told you stories of some local kids in the area who’d gone to Nevermore, vampires and werewolves and the like, though you knew she tended to over-dramatize things.

Larissa’s lips pulled into a thin line and she nodded, knuckles turning white as her fingers flexed around her silverware.

“That sounds so cool! I’m not really from this area so I don’t know much about it, but isn’t that like everyone’s dream? To have some kind of magical superpower?”

Larissa seemed to visibly relax, a hesitant smile gracing her lips. “I don’t quite think that’s what everyone thinks, though I’m certainly doing my best to rectify Nevermore’s reputation.”

“That’s a shame,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your wine and smiling at Larissa, trying to ease any remnants of tension that the conversation seemed to bring up - you could tell she wasn’t used to people being accepting about her profession or her status as an Outcast. Was she an Outcast?

“I don’t know if this is rude to ask but… are you… do you have any… you know? ‘Superpowers’?” You immediately cringed at yourself for sounding so stupid, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

Larissa laughed, the sound like music to your ears. “I do, if you want to call it that.” She looked down into her wine glass, swirling the stem gently between the tips of her manicured fingers.

You raised an eyebrow and cocked your head, waiting for her to continue. She seemed to deliberate for a moment as a long silence stretched between the two of you.

“I’m a shapeshifter.” Her words rolled off her tongue as if she weighed every syllable with great care. She raised her eyes to meet yours, her expression giving away nothing except perhaps a hint of challenge.

You racked your brain for an appropriate reaction to the admission, sensing your next words would be terribly important to the older woman.

“Oh…” You let out a deep breath. “That seems like it would come in handy. Thank you for telling me.” You placed your hand on the table between the two of you, palm facing up, wiggling your fingers.

Larissa looked between your eyes and your hand and, after a moment’s hesitation, placed her own hand in yours, a brilliant, toothy smile lighting up her face. Your skin tingled where hers met your own, lighting up all the nerves in your body.

You were pleased to find that you hadn’t made a complete fool of yourself, and conversation flowed even easier after that point. Larissa opened up about the trials and tribulations that came with running an entire school, all while your hands were intertwined on the table.

You’d long finished your meals, the bottle of wine you’d shared was nearly empty when you felt something brush against your ankle and you yelped, nearly jumping out of your seat.

Larissa suppressed a giggle, giving your hand a squeeze as the tip of her heel grazed against the muscle of your calf.

“How did you like the food?” Her voice was low and sultry and as she leaned across the table, you caught a strong whiff of her perfume, dowsing you in a steep wave of arousal.

“I-I loved it.” You clenched your thighs together, trying to ignore the building tension in your abdomen and focus on the present moment with your date. “It was so, so good. Really, thank you so much for taking me here.”

“Darling, the pleasure was all mine. But now I think I’d really like to have some dessert, if that’s alright with you?” Larissa’s gaze was intense, all-consuming, hungry - you felt yourself drowning in her eyes, your stomach fluttering at the prospect of what she was proposing.

You swallowed back a whimper and nodded, unable to concentrate as the pad of Larissa’s thumb traced over your knuckles.

Larissa paid your bill, tipping generously and leading you back to her car. Her hand rested on your thigh again during the drive, inching slowly and tantalizingly higher every few minutes as the pads of her fingers began gentle ministrations against your skirt. You wished in that moment you’d worn something more revealing, feeling desperate for her touch on your skin.

As the car pulled up a long, winding drive towards a massive, castle-like building, Larissa’s fingers finally brushed against the fabric covering your core, drawing a strangled hiss from your throat.

“We’re here,” Larissa smirked, removing her hand from your skirt and parking the car.

“So is this Nevermore?” You bit the inside of your cheek in a vain attempt to regain control of yourself, staring up at the imposing building through the car window with interest.

“It is, I have my apartment at the school. It’s easier that way.”

Larissa led you inside the school. You rushed after her, struggling to keep up with her long strides as she navigated her way through the dark, looming halls, completely empty at this time of night. She stopped in front of a pair of wood-paneled double doors, fishing her keys out of her purse and letting you into the apartment.

Within seconds of the door shutting behind you, Larissa’s lips were on yours. You let out a groan as she pressed you into the door, simultaneously shrugging off her coat and tossing it to the floor. Her hands trailed down your sides, cupping your ass and lifting you off the floor to pin you against the door.

Larissa’s tongue slid against the seam of your lips, coaxing a moan from your throat as you granted her access to explore your mouth. Your entire body was ablaze as she began to pepper your jaw and throat with kisses, moving her lips to your pulse point and grazing her teeth over your sensitive skin.

“Larissa, please,” you whined, the ache between your legs becoming too much. You needed her, you’d needed her since you’d first had her nearly a week ago, and the ache was finally becoming too much to bear.

“So eager.” You could feel the ghost of a smirk against your throat as Larissa carried you effortlessly back through an open doorway, nipping and sucking at the column of your throat. Larissa placed you on her bed and hovered over you, lips connecting with every inch of bare skin she could reach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake.

Her fingers worked at the buttons of your blouse, expertly ridding you of the garment within seconds. Your bra came next and then her mouth was on your breasts, tongue working your nipples into hard peaks as she drew breathy moans from your throat.

Your skirt joined the rest of your clothes on the floor and Larissa trailed open-mouthed kisses down your torso, biting little marks to remember the night by. You yelped when she bit down on the inside of your thigh, arousal leaking out of your core.

Finally, Larissa’s tongue made contact with your cunt, licking a path up your folds to your clit, circling it once, twice. The scent of your arousal hung heavy in the air, spurring her on as she lapped at your pussy.

“Does this feel good, Y/N?” You could only whimper in response, fingers tangled in the sheets behind you to steady yourself. You were embarrassingly close already, simply from the effect of the woman’s intoxicating presence.

“You taste absolutely divine, my darling,” Larissa hummed, sucking your clit as her fingers teased your entrance.

“P-please,” you whimpered, thighs twitching as you brought your hands to Larissa’s hair, fingers tangling in her blonde tresses.

“Please what?” The vibrations of Larissa’s lips against your pussy were driving you wild with need.

“I’m so close…” Larissa plunged her fingers into your cunt and you bucked your hips up in time to meet her thrusts. Your walls began to clench around her fingers as you reached your first orgasm, your moans increasing in volume.

Your gaze wandered down, eyes meeting Larissa’s, and the sight was what made the coil behind your navel snap. Her pupils were blown so wide there was not a sliver of sapphire visible, her cheeks were dusted pink, her hair was coming out of its elegant updo, curls falling messily across her forehead.

Larissa lapped up the juices leaking out of your core as you rode out your high, planting soothing kisses along the insides of your thighs and cleaning you up while you steadied your breathing.

She moved up your body, connecting your lips in a bruising kiss so that you could taste yourself on her tongue, swallowing your moan.

Larissa pulled back to look at you, the insatiable hunger in her eyes setting a fire ablaze inside of you.

“Y/N, can you be a good girl for me?” Your thighs clenched together with want and you nodded fervently. There it was again - good girl - of course you would be, you would be anything for her.

Larissa slid off to the side of the bed and tugged at the zipper of her dress, revealing the smooth expanse of her back, dotted with pale freckles. She slid the dress farther down, until it reached the swell of her ass, then allowed it to fall to the floor.

To your absolute delight she’d forgone a bra, and as she turned to face you your breath hitched in your chest, struck by the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. The peaks of her nipples, hardened by a chill in the air; the slight swell of her stomach, disappearing into red lacy panties; the freckles on her shoulders, sprawled out like constellations.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, secretly a bit pleased at yourself with the hint of a blush you were able to produce on the apple’s of Larissa’s cheeks.

“My darling girl,” she cooed sweetly, a contrast to the devious smirk playing upon her lips. “Do you remember what I was telling you earlier? About me being a shapeshifter?”

You nodded slowly, brows furrowing, unsure where the woman was going with this.

“I am able to shift… certain parts of myself.” Your mind, still a bit hazy from your first orgasm, raced in an attempt to compute what she was saying. Larissa towered over you, waiting patiently until - finally - your eyes widened as comprehension dawned on your face.

“I would so like to take you tonight, my dear,” Larissa’s voice was low and sultry and you could only nod eagerly. You felt your heart begin to race, heat pooling between your legs at her proposal. She smirked down at you with kiss-swollen lips, lipstick smudged, and you knew you were done for.

Larissa crawled on top of you, planting sloppy, heated kisses along your jaw. It was then that you felt it - an unfamiliar bulge, pressing insistently against your leg through the lace of Larissa’s underwear.

“You make me so hard,” she groaned. You moaned involuntarily as the older woman began to grind against your thigh, rubbing her bulge against your sensitive skin. Your skin buzzed with electricity, all the blood in your body seemingly rushing straight to your cunt. You needed her inside you.

Larissa pushed herself up to discard her panties, her full length now on display, standing to attention. Your pupils dilated as you stared at her, transfixed, drool pooling in your mouth. You dropped your thighs open, revealing your dripping sex, and Larissa chuckled at your neediness.

“My beautiful girl, so ready for me.” Larissa gazed down at you fondly, cupping your cheek with her hand. She traced your lower lip with her thumb, letting out a moan as you sucked it into your mouth.

“Lay back,” she instructed, and you did as you were told, chest heaving as Larissa crawled on top of you, pressing her body into yours, her skin hot to the touch. She reached a hand between the two of you to grasp her cock and drag the tip up your slit, whimpering at the sensation.

You bucked your hips up, whining needily and fisting at the sheets.

“Darling,” Larissa whispered, her breath hot on the shell of your ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.”

Your own breath hitched in your chest as she finally pushed inside of you, letting out a guttural moan as your warm pussy clenched around her length.

She paused for a moment to allow you to get used to the sensation of being filled. “Is this alright?”

“Mhmm. It’s good.” You shifted your hips, watching carefully as Larissa’s eyelids fluttered shut, eyelashes brushing against flushed cheekbones. “How does it feel for you?”

Larissa smiled sweetly, opening her eyes and gazing down at you as a light blush spread across her cheeks. “It feels amazing.” Her expression turned wistful. “No one’s ever asked me that.”

It was something you couldn’t fathom, and with some effort due to your height difference and the position, you reached up to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, fingertips brushing lovingly against her jaw as if trying to convey an apology for every idiot who had ever slept with her and not cared for her pleasure.

You rocked your hips a bit, causing Larissa to shift above you. “May I?” You nodded, teeth sinking into your lip as she began to slide out of you, then back in, slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to her.

Larissa found a steady rhythm inside of you, rocking her hips against yours, stretching you out with every thrust. She seemed to hit every nerve-ending inside of you, knowing exactly how to move her hips to have you writhing in pleasure beneath her.

Your hands clung to the sheets beneath you, fingers twisting so hard at the fabric that you might rip it. Larissa’s hands settled on your waist, steadying herself so she could pick up her pace. You stared, enraptured, her tits bouncing as she pounded into you.

Larissa leaned over you so that she could press a searing kiss to your lips as her hands came to rest next to your head.

“Tell me what you want,” Larissa cooed, continuing her brutal pace inside your cunt.

“Oh- fuck, Rissa, use me.”

Larissa’s moans became filthier by the minute and you could tell, somewhere behind the hazy cloud of your impending orgasm, that she must be close too by the way the snapping of her hips was becoming more and more erratic, the way her breath was coming out in short puffs, the way her hand that she used to steady herself next to your head twisted at the sheets with white-knuckled desperation.

“Be a good girl for me and come with me, darling,” Larissa breathed, groaning as she thrusted into you, on the verge of climax.

You came first, your senses flooding with delight as you reached your peak. It was pure ecstasy, feeling your walls clench around Larissa’s cock. You could hear the older woman’s own cry above you and you forced your eyes to stay open so you could watch her, her face contorted with pleasure above you; eyes screwed shut, jaw slack.

Larissa slid out of you carefully, chuckling as you mewled pathetically at the sudden feeling of emptiness. She slumped onto the mattress beside you, completely spent, slipping her arm under your torso to pull you into a soft embrace. With her body pressed against yours, skin to skin, you could feel that she’d shifted back again.

“That was… wow,” you sighed, nuzzling into Larissa’s chest. She laughed, a melodious sound that you immediately committed to memory.

“It was indeed.” She pressed her lips to yours in an affectionate, loving kiss. “You did so well for me, love,” she murmured, fingertips skating across the skin of your back in soothing patterns. You breathed in her scent, allowing it to wash over you and calm your still racing heart.

“I can drive you home but-” Larissa saw the slight pout of your lower lip and grinned, “but I would love it if you’d stay the night. Perhaps I could entice you with breakfast in bed?”

You smiled up at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “You could entice me with you. I would love to stay the night.”

Larissa settled back against the pillows, pulling you on top of her, relishing the contact with your bare skin. She pressed her lips to your forehead, watching your eyes flutter closed and listening intently as your breathing slowed before allowing herself to succumb to sleep, a peaceful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

tags: @enchantressb @rainbow-hedgehog

#larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa x reader #lipstick stains #lipstick stains series

405 notes · View notes

beneathashadytree · 10 months

Text

FAMILY - JOTARO KUJO X READER

Warnings : semi-nudity, first-time parents, this is set between SDC and DIU, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : domestic fluff <3

Word count : 0.7K words

Additional notes : Been rewatching JJBA and yearning for a family with this man.

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

“She’s so small.”

Jotaro’s voice was just as small; quiet enough that they barely heard him through the thin walls separating the bathroom from their bedroom. After having washed up a little in the middle of the night (something they rather enjoyed, amidst all the fuss of waking up at ungodly hours to feed their daughter), they made their way back to their room.

The scene they walked in on was something that must’ve come straight out of their most personal dreams, one that a younger version of them would’ve been pining after every single day and blushing furiously as their imagination ran with them.

There was Jotaro, lying back in bed with his legs crossed as he always was—only this time, his shirt was pulled off and strewn to the side somewhere. Jolyne’s tiny body was nestled against his naked chest, her clean skin a little flushed and all endearing. Her entire fist was curled around just one of her father’s fingers, while his other hand cradling her head was carefully brushing through her dark tufts of hair.

It was that sight alone that sent their heart pounding in their chest and threatening to burst through their ribcage with sheer adoration. “You’re really keen on listening to the nurse’s advice for skin-to-skin contact, huh?”

His response wasn’t verbal; just a nod of his head and a mesmerized look on his face as he watched their daughter coo a little at the soothing motions he did. She seemed to be just as attached as he was, half-asleep and blinking up drowsily at him, while still leaning into his every touch in the way that endearingly clingy babies did.

“Jolyne likes it,” Jotaro simply said, his teal eyes softer than they’d ever seen as he regarded Jolyne with that same rare adoration that he bestowed upon the very few people he adored, undeniably so. He only tore his gaze away from her to look at them as they crawled into bed beside their spouse and daughter. “It’s late, and you’re tired. You should sleep.”

“So should you.” Their hand came to rest on the left side of his chest, palm settling against the warm skin and feeling every reassuring thump of his heart beating. A soft caress only helped his heart to pick up the pace, and a small, almost-imperceptible blush to rise up the tips of his ears. “You’ve been getting up almost every single night, and even feeding her on the days I’m too exhausted. You need rest too, darling.”

Jotaro stilled for a few moments, before turning his attention back to little Jolyne, who seemed to be close to slipping back into her dreamless slumber. He didn’t utter a word for a bit; long enough for them to start doubting he’d say anything at all.

Until, that is, he broke the silence with six little words, softly spoken with all the yearning in the world, and with his eyes looking so tenderly at her; like he was cradling the entire world in his hands, despite being calloused hands that had—for a heart-achingly long time—only ever been used for violence and bloodshed.

“I don’t want to miss anything.”

It dug deep into their heart and nestled there, right with all of the millions of reasons they’d already had and learnt as to why they love him so wholly; that keenness of his that branded him as someone so fiercely devoted to the few he let inside his impossibly high walls. And it was a privilege that they wanted to cherish forever.

“You won’t miss out on anything if you just let yourself relax.” They leaned in to press a soft kiss to his slightly-stubbled cheek. “We’ll still be here in the morning, I promise you. We’re not going anywhere.”

All they got was a grunt to show that he was listening, and nothing more. Jotaro remained fixated on the sight of Jolyne’s chubby cheeks smooshed against his skin, and rosy with the happiness of a good feed.

But they could see how their words seemed to settle into his mind, as the tension unwound between his shoulders, and his body sunk deeper into the pillows he’d nestled against. The small furrow between his thick eyebrows had slowly melted away, and the ever-so-gentle quirk of his lips into a half-smile brought their heart to a near-stop.

He huffed out what sounded like a quiet chuckle. “I’ll hold you to your word, then.”

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @boorishbrambling @mrsgiovanna

327 notes · View notes

renegade-skywalker · 3 months

Text

One of Many Mornings

Despite her best efforts, Merit still fears that Gale will sacrifice himself upon reaching Moonrise. She does her best to convince him otherwise.

(Takes place in Act 2, immediately post-Weave scene)

~~~

For the briefest of moments, time did not exist.

All Merit knew was the comforting nothingness of dreamless sleep, her body slowly growing heavy as she drifted back into waking life. As if washing ashore after a sea at storm. One moment she was as weightless as a star strung up in the night sky, glittering with the predawn, and the next she was a stone bound by gravity, warm and earthen yet still somehow other, now nestled safely upon the beach as the dawn threatened.

And yet the change did not startle her, time slowly slipping back into place as if the veil were being draped gently back over her waking eyes, her consciousness yet again housed within the body she had for so long called her own. Her eyes fluttered open to find the sky full of stars just as it had been back on the edge of the ravine, a tapestry of Gale’s making, only after a few more moments she realized she was instead staring up at the canopy of Gale’s tent, never once realizing that he had the heavens embroidered into the fabric of his shelter all this time. And that’s when she realized that she wasn’t some smoothed stone settled safely on a shore and instead wrapped warmly in Gale’s arms, his lips meeting the side of her neck as she awakened further.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said quietly, his breath teasing the hair on the nape of her neck. A pleasant chill ran the length of her spine. His voice was warm and honey-like against her ear as he wrapped his arms more snugly around her from behind, his body cradling hers as she instinctively eased herself back into him, two pieces falling into place.

“And… I wanted to talk to you about our night together.”

Merit sighed and smiled, blinking against the dark canopy of blue above her as she drank in the moment and tried to retain the night in its entirety. It was almost as if the entire thing had been both a dream as well as a previous life, both lucid and otherworldly, and simply beyond words. Her limbs tingled at the memory, her heart warm. She could steep in the thought of it forever, but instead she turned to look Gale in the eye, surprised to find his gaze unsure. His grip on her did not waver, their bodies still close, but his dark eyes traveled her face, both as if tracing her features and committing them to memory as well as searching for some sign of unspoken dissent.

“I hope it meant as much to you as it did to me,” he said softly, his dark eyes wide and intent and so full of forlorn longing that Merit’s heart ached at the sight of him.

“Last night was-” she began, her voice both feeling and sounding alien to her as she spoke, suddenly unable to continue as if the thought ended there. Only it didn’t - the feeling extended beyond herself and into eternity, only any notions her mind had to describe the sensation simply paled in comparison to the aftermath of her very essence intertwining with Gale’s. It was beyond merely physical sensation, careening far into a realm she knew nothing of how to possibly put into words yet also desperately wanted to return to. They’d bonded, body and soul, their thoughts and feelings mingling with one another unsure of where one ended and the other began, in the end enmeshing into something forever altered and entirely other.

Merit’s chest brimmed with a feeling she’d never felt before, yet she somehow knew it also felt like home - not one she’d never visited until now but one she instantly knew was always meant to be hers, a home both inhabited in and shared with Gale. And yet she had no vocabulary to voice it, nothing to label it with and no such way to convey the all-consuming sense of something both akin to completion and yearning that now subtly threatened to burst from the confines of her ribcage as it sought to extend the very edges of even herself.

Unsure of how else to describe it, she placed a careful hand on what she spied of Gale’s scar peeking from beneath the collar of his tunic - just as he had urged her to do so when he first revealed the origins of his condition to her, and just as she had placed her careful fingers over his bruised collarbone when she’d first kissed him, testing the waters and wondering if despite her want that she’d somehow doomed them both. She knew it wasn’t necessary, but the gesture felt right somehow, and the feeling as Gale shuddered pleasantly beneath her touch as he watched her acted as both proof and promise of that sureness. And with another deliberate thought, Merit urged her mind to connect with his, and within the moment their minds were as one.

She bit her lip as her eyes traveled from the naked contour of Gale’s collarbone up towards his tender gaze, their sentiments and sensations mingling as one again, as if this was truly to be their shared intended existence, both reliving the night and everything that followed, every feeling echoing in one and then the other, as if both asserting then confirming each notion - shared now, yes, but as if the sentiment had been shared already, mirrored in each of them and then amplified in the multiplicity of it, pleased to find their feelings not just reciprocated but in duplicate.

It was almost as if she were nervous, her entire being a live wire as she steeped in the feeling. And unlike the weightlessness of the night before, Merit relished the warmth of Gale’s skin beneath her palm and the way his other hand raked at the small of her back as he inched their bodies closer. For all the wonders experienced the night before, she liked this, too. Almost moreso. He eventually rested his forehead against hers, the calm of his breath against her cheek a serene reassurance of everything she felt and everything she sensed equally in him. If her body hummed the night previously or even in the moments after waking, her limbs were certainly abuzz now, prickling with a certain promise that felt as safe as a roaring fire and a feather bed.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” she admitted in a hallowed whisper, her hand finally retreating from the hollow base of Gale’s neck to thread through his hair as she held him close. Gale’s breath caught in his throat. One hand remained at her waist while the other reached up to cup her jaw, his thumb tracing the outline of her cheekbone as he beamed quietly back at her. She trembled pleasantly beneath his touch, not wanting the moment to end while simultaneously desiring even more of it.

“Neither have I,” Gale replied, almost breathless. His gaze was more intent on hers than she ever remembered it being, his irises as wide and dark as the night itself yet just as luminous, a certain affection in his gaze that was unmistakable yet unprecedented somehow. “And despite everything that’s befallen us and everything yet unresolved, what I feel for you somehow outweighs all of it. Almost as if-”

Before he could continue, Merit pressed her lips to his, pleased to feel him sigh against her. He was delectably warm and welcoming, an errant sound emitting from the back of his throat as he surrendered to her kiss in a way that made Merit shiver, only wanting him more. He tasted of cool earth and raw honey - real and sweet and present. She thought of the night before, as if what had transpired and was shared between them was both only a second prior but also an eon ago, aching for a closeness she wasn’t sure she could ever manage, whether corporeal or incorporeal. But the feel of him against her now soothed her: the taste of his kiss, the weight of him beside her, the warmth of his hands on her skin.

Merit continued to kiss Gale with urgency, the feeling swelling within her chest until it was almost too much to bear. Finally, she pulled away slowly, only to look upon him as if it might be the last time. She knew it wasn’t but there was an unexplainable pull in the depths of her, a worry rooted in Gale’s words the night before. Her eyes traced his features as she continued to run her fingers through his hair, cradling his face in her hands as if she were committing all of him to memory - by sight and by touch, wondering if she had time to relish in all the rest.

“I’m sorry,” Merit pleaded, still holding him close.

“For what?” Gale asked with a breathy laugh, his eyes full of want as he tried to read her expression.

“You were going to say something,” Merit said, hungry to kiss him again and never stop.

Gale’s mouth opened as if he were about to answer, but instead he pulled Merit to him and kissed her again, a somber desperation overcoming him that matched the sudden anguish that coursed through Merit now. He parted his lips against hers this time and drank her in. Merit sighed as Gale’s tongue gently probed hers, his other hand pulling her to him in a way that she thought their bodies might fuse as they had the night previously. Merit obliged and followed the lead of his kiss, waves of affection lapping at every part of her, equally wanting to enjoy the moment while simultaneously starving for more of him.

“Everything I feel for you, with you-” Gale continued, pulling away from the kiss only to breathe, brushing his nose against hers, “-feels as if it’s the most paramount concern in all the world,” panting his words with every exhale before kissing her once more. “The rest only pales in comparison.”

He said this as if it were both a plea and an apology, even if the sound of it only made Merit radiate with a pleasant, inner warmth she wanted to let consume her whole.

Merit could only whimper against his mouth, overcome with a sentiment that possessed her so entirely that she did not know what to do with it, the feel of it overwhelming her in an instant. Merit never wanted to be kissing Gale more than she did now, her lips aching for him each time they parted, a wave of want possessing her whenever she felt him sigh or gasp against her, a part of her feeling that if they stopped now that she might never get to kiss him again. Her chest felt as if she were about to dive off a steep cliff and into an unfathomable abyss, only the gaping maw of the unknown within her felt sweet and shivering. Her hands gently clawed at the warmth of his skin as she kissed him still, inspiring a mirrored moan from the depths of Gale’s throat.

Gale’s hands then slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, the folds of fabric almost alien to her after their night together in the Weave. And yet the sensation of Gale’s fingers gracing her skin beneath it with practiced pause made her tremble in a way that only intensified her already insatiable need for him to be closer. She ran one hand through his hair as she kissed him, pleased to feel how solid he was, how utterly real, while her other hand ran along the contour of his collarbone, relishing in the shape of him and how his body fit against hers before tugging on the lace of Gale’s collar before the thread came loose.

With a sudden stillness, Gale gripped her waist and gently but forcibly pinned her beneath him, pulling away from her lips as he kissed her cheek and then the upturn of her jaw before eventually draping kisses down the length of her neck. Merit sighed again, a low moan escaping from her throat just as Gale muttered a spell against her skin and within the span of a moment, the tent was silent except for their rapid breaths and the silk of their voices lacing each and every sigh. Merit’s hands reached for Gale’s neck, guiding his lips back to hers, her fingers eventually spiriting down the back of his nightshirt as he pressed himself against her once more. Gale shuddered pleasantly and urged her closer in a way that made the core of her grow warm and wanting.

One of Gale’s hands moved up towards her face, threading his fingers through her hair as he angled her face sweetly against his, while his other hand gripped her hipbone with a firm authority that made her go weak in the knees.The feel of his tongue gently interlacing with hers sent another chill through her that felt sweet yet insatiated, each of them ever hungry for more. She ached to feel more of him, and closer somehow.

Merit’s hands moved from the now-open collar of Gale’s shirt to insistently tugging at the back of the fabric as they continued kissing, growing more and more breathless with each passing moment. Gale was the first to finally pause. He pulled away, panting, and looked upon her with a heavy-lidded gaze that instantly set Merit’s heart aflame. He bit down on his bottom lip, his chest heavy with labored breathing as his eyes flickered across her face, drinking in the sight of her as he eventually obliged. Within a moment’s time, his shirt was discarded and he pressed his lips again to hers, his hands instantly reaching for the slip of Merit’s skin beneath her own nightclothes as he lightly urged her shirt off as well.

Merit didn’t pull out of the kiss. Instead she raised her hands in silent yet ever so willing surrender, allowing Gale to pull her top off over her shoulders. Their skin was endlessly warm where they touched in the aftermath, the tent growing hot as they continued kissing, the warmth of their breath further heating the air between them. Memories of the night before flooded Merit’s mind - the sensation of Gale’s soul against hers, sentiment mingling with unearthly sensation - and yet there was something about being here with him, now, that felt even more intimate yet also only more sacred for what transpired in the Weave. She ran her hands along his chest as he kissed her, delighted to feel him shudder pleasantly at her touch, wondering what other new magic she might yet discover between them.

“I want to feel you,” she found herself saying, as if possessed. She spoke her words into another kiss pressed to Gale’s mouth. He smiled in response, his lips curled into a smirk as he kissed her still, pressing his hips against hers again in a way that made Merit melt. Gale didn’t say anything at first, his hands only traveled beneath the waist of her trousers in a gentle but urgent plea to slip them off, a gesture Merit mirrored on him in kind.

“And I want to feel you,” Gale echoed as they obliged each other’s shared pleas. Merit relished everywhere their skin now met, the waning night touching the rest, pulling him closer to her as she delighted in how warm he felt against her in light of the chill. “All of you.”

It was all it took for Merit to obey, as if she wasn’t already eager, savoring the feeling of Gale being this close, his hands roaming her every curve like an intrepid explorer as her own fingers traced every outline of him that she had not yet seen and committed it all to memory. It was strange, almost, having opened herself completely to his soul earlier only to feel even the mildest of trepidations at being this exposed in close proximity. As if there were some flaw forgotten that would change his mind or stay his hand. But Gale only kissed her more deeply, retreating only to drape kisses across her chest and over her shoulders, his hands carefully but emphatically pulling her closer as she felt his earthly want against her as if in insistent plea that the night never end. And she did not want it to.

The solidity of him felt almost like a novelty - not just after their long night entwined in the Weave, but after weeks of yearning for him to be closer, of soaking in each moment their elbows brushed against one another’s or their hands touched, their fingers lingering against one another’s in a solemn attempt to draw out their time together and make it last forever. Even each of their earlier kisses before this felt so chaste in comparison. But now, the heat of their skin searing sentiment into flesh, Merit knew that whatever entanglements she’d had in the years before this were nothing in correlation to the wealth of feeling she felt for Gale - now or ever. Gale fit against her in a way that was endlessly perfect, as if their equal but unfinished parts were always meant to complete the other.

A part of her mind opened up then - the feeling of Gale’s thoughts brushing against hers like the soft brush of hands reaching for the same thing and relishing in the not-so-accidental closeness. In that moment she knew he wondered the same just as they broached the precipice of the same conclusion, the thought echoing in both their minds, a voice in unison: so this is love.

Merit had been in love before but never had it returned like this, nor had she ever felt it so deeply. And the currents of its depth coursed through her as she kissed Gale and urged him closer; closer than skin on skin, closer than shared breath and sighing in concert. She meant what she’d said before - she wanted to feel him, yet not only as she had in the Weave but every part of him, anchoring him to the here and now in a sudden plea that he remain in the land of the living. Because as sudden as the depth of her feeling was, so was the notion that it could all soon be over should he choose to heed destiny’s cruel call.

As if in response to her inner turmoil, Gale quelled her worries with a kiss deeper than she’d ever known, his lips threading with hers as if they were forever meant to be pressed to one another, and his tongue lacing with hers so gently yet so sweetly that she felt her entire body shiver in response yet in the sort of way that she knew she never wanted to be parted from him ever again, savoring the feeling of his warmth mingling with hers as his hands drew her even closer. Then, with the slightest and most endearing trepidity, one of Gale’s hands eased its way between her legs. He sighed and smiled against her mouth as he felt her want, and she leaned into his touch, yearning for more which he was all too happy to oblige.

Gale lilted out of their kiss, smiling and out of breath as he tentatively slipped two fingers inside her, eliciting a gasp from the depths of Merit’s throat. A shiver coursed through her at the feel of him, smiling against his mouth as he readjusted and kissed her again, reaching for the length of him with a careful hand. Her gentle touch only encouraged his desire, feeling the length of him harden further against her palm as she carefully caressed and stroked, their panting breaths in concert as they fell into an unspoken but understood synchronicity. It felt both like a plea as well as an invitation, both their question and answer the same as they exhaled deliciously in unison. Gale pulled out of the kiss only far enough to gauge Merit’s expression, his eyelashes fluttering heavy-lidded against her cheek as he drank her in and eventually paused, retreating his hand and relieving her own before carefully guiding himself between her legs and without another moment’s hesitation, made them one again.

It was both foreign and familiar after exploring the furthest depths of each other’s souls, and yet the feeling of Gale inside her sent Merit to another plane entirely. Pleasure coursed through her as he thrust once, twice, and deepest on the third dive, his breath even but harrowed as one of his hands reached up to cradle her jaw and bring her mouth closer to his upon which to kiss. His mouth was pleading but tender against hers, his hips moving against Merit’s with a hungry yet tamed tenacity that enraptured her completely. All she could do was lean into his kiss and urge her hips in harmony with his, yearning to feel more of him and deeply so.

Merit parted her legs ever so much more and invited Gale even more deeply inside her, at first caressing his chest as he breathed heavily against her before latching onto him as if for dear life. All she knew is that she wanted him to be impossibly closer, almost as close as they’d been entwined in the Weave but more corporeally so, yearning to feel his heat and savoring each taste of his lips upon hers. Gale’s other hand hooked behind her lower back, angling her against him in a way that instantly made her see stars and she wondered whether they were still connected via tadpole or whether they’d simply committed themselves to eternally being on the same page that some things simply no longer needed to be said.

Wave after wave of euphoric ardor flooded her as Gale urged himself inside her again and again, alternating between kissing Merit desperately and pulling away only far enough to tenderly watch her gaze on his, his nose brushing against hers as his eyes glazed over with an unspoken but quiet rapture as he reveled in the feel of her, looking as if his eyes might roll back at any moment at the blissful feel of her beneath him. But Gale’s eyes remained intent on her, the depth of his affection clear in his unwavering gaze as he breathlessly thrust his want inside her, careful but indulgent, and kissed her deeply again.

As all encompassing as their time spent in the Weave was, Merit felt overwhelmed with sensation even more now on the receiving end of Gale’s love in the earnestness of his kiss, at his insistence at the velvety core of her, and in the way one of his hands threaded his fingers through hers, pinning her further to the ground beneath the bedroll they lay upon, reminding her again of the earth and its fleeting pleasures, hoping against hope that this wouldn’t be the last night she would spend with him while solemnly insisting that it wouldn’t be.

A knot of mounting satiation threatened her nerve endings, her body succumbing to the sweeter sensation of Gale urging himself inside her, the feel of his hardening want both pleasing and teasing her in a way that she both wanted to see it through as well as have it last forever. Powerless against it and desperate besides, eager to feel completion despite her heart’s hungrier desires, Merit clung to Gale even more despairingly, again thinking of what might happen come morning when this was all over, as if him separating himself from her would also act as his death sentence.

Overcome with a sudden heartbroken agony, Merit kissed Gale harder than she ever had before, threading her free hand through his hair and savoring the feel of him against her, inside her. He lilted again from her kiss, panting deliciously against her ear as he grew impossibly hard. Merit felt herself cascade from the precarious precipice of euphoria and over the edge of it, the sensation of Gale inside her suddenly slick and sweeter than before as a breathless whimper escaped her lips. Merit pulled him to her as Gale delved even deeper inside her, an errant moan escaping the depths of his throat as she felt him bottom out entirely and tremble within her, pulling out as he pressed yet another harrowed kiss to her mouth. He kissed her still even as he’d exited, smiling and laughing a hollow laugh against her kiss-swollen lips before eventually dismounting and laying beside her, completely breathless.

The moment that followed was a bit like waking from a dream, overcome with a sudden lack that what she felt now was familiar but as if it were only half-remembered. Merit’s limbs hummed with a sweet excess of energy, just as they had in the aftermath of the night before. And as similar as the sensation was, the feel of it was quite different. Her skin was suddenly cold without Gale atop her, her skin prickling with goosebumps as her sweatslick skin adjusted to the cool of the night air.

Merit glanced outside through the sliver of the tent’s mostly-closed flap; it was still early, or late depending on how she wanted to look at it. Even if some might consider it early morning, she preferred to think of it as an extension of the night before, wishing that morning might never come.

She turned, smiling softly, and watched as Gale not-so-silently caught his breath beside her, his body still close yet not close enough for her liking. He eyed her almost bashfully though unable to hide a satisfied smile, a look Merit recognized from the first time they kissed. There was an unspoken apology in his wordless gaze just as there had been then, one that meekly said out of practice.

She rolled over onto her side and inched herself closer to him, propping herself up carefully upon Gale’s chest, one hand slowly tracing his collarbone while her other hand brushed his now slightly damp hair from his forehead. Gale reached for her waist, his fingers carefully tracing absent swirls across her lower back. She shivered pleasantly and pressed her lips to his mouth, smiling as she felt Gale hum pleasantly into her lazy kiss. She had meant for it to be quick, a fleeting but earnest don’t worry to drown out his doubt, but soon her kiss grew ravenous and softly so, turning from a forgiving thing into a pleading one, not that there was anything Gale needed to be absolved of. There was no need to impress her, especially after last night, and she wanted to believe there was still time for further practice. Still panting slightly, Gale’s breath caught in the back of his throat as his lips reciprocated her unspoken adjuration, sending Merit into a whole other world of want.

She wanted to press her palm to the crest of Gale’s collarbone again, to tether their minds once more and make him know just exactly how she felt. Yet part of her sensed that he already knew.

Before she could get too lost in the feeling despite wanting it to never end, Merit pulled away only slightly, her lips still brushing against Gale’s as she whispered more earnestly than she’d ever uttered anything, “I love you.”

Gale froze, a look of almost heartbroken disbelief overcoming him at the sound of it. As if the last night wasn’t quite enough to convince him, as if telling him she was also in love with him in the meadow wasn’t quite enough either, as if every stolen glance and every shared skip of a heartbeat wasn’t quite enough from the start, as if opening her mind to him upon waking wasn’t quite enough though it came oh, so close. And yet it was this simple declaration that finally quelled his unyielding uncertainty, the realization of it dawning in his eyes as Gale looked at Merit with more affection than she knew what to do with.

Before she could do anything, Gale kissed her again with an unmatched zeal that left her breathless, pulling her atop him as he kissed her more ardently than anyone ever had. This kept happening - their every act of expressed affection somehow superseding the last, each one sending her heart soaring to some new inner height she never before thought possible. Her unbound hair surrounded them as if veiling their kiss from the world and creating an entirely other one within it, and for the moment she wanted this moment to extend into forever, neverending.

Just as Merit settled atop Gale, her hands running along the pleasing edges of his sternum, relishing feel the quickening of his breath beneath his heaving chest, Gale rolled her back over onto the ground beside him but this time the side opposite, urging their bodies together until they were utterly skin to skin.

Finally pulling out of the kiss, Gale exhaled, “I love you,” as he instead kissed the corner of her mouth and then her temple, uttering “I love you,” again as he kissed the underside of her ear where her jaw met her neck, planting more careful kisses down the slope of her neck until he met her shoulder, his lips brushing lightly against her skin there as his hand gently squeezed her upper arm, next kissing the length of her collarbone and saying “I love you, I love you, I love you,” before finally returning to look her in the eye and stilling so completely that Merit thought the moment had truly frozen in time.

“Were that this night might never end,” he said again, whispersoft, his fingers softly tracing the edges of her face. Merit leaned into his touch, abruptly overcome with a certainty she hadn’t had before.

“There will be other nights,” she said. “I promise.”

Promise. It was as much a promise to him as it was for herself, instantly afraid of what the world might look like if her words were somehow false, even if a seed in the pit of her stomach insisted that they weren’t.

“I want to believe you,” he resigned after the pause. “I want to believe that we’ll find another way. But-” Gale tore his eyes away from her gaze as he caressed Merit’s hair away from her face, memorizing the outline of her as if this truly might be their one and only night together. “How can you be so sure?”

Merit returned the gesture, studying him not because she wanted to believe this might be her last chance to do so but because she wanted to capture everything about this moment, about this night and the ever encroaching morning, as if crystalizing it in a bead of amber for all eternity. It felt important because it was the start of something, not the end of it. If only she could convince him as much as she was slowly convincing herself.

“Because you still owe me a proper tour of your tower,” she pleaded earnestly with an easy, small smile. “And Waterdeep, too. I’ll even buy you a drink at the Yawning Portal. My treat.”

Gale smiled sadly at her but let her continue, his eyes flitting between her gaze and her mouth as he continued to caress her hair.

Merit ran her fingers along the now-cold of his exposed chest, pausing once she reached the base of his throat, her thumb tracing his scar with sudden trepidation. She stilled. A wash of panic rose within her as she looked from Gale’s tender gaze down to the ghost of the orb, again reminded of Gale’s intentions the night previous. She wasn’t sure if her mind were linked with his, but all she could think of, the word and the want coming in waves, was stay, stay, stay.

Gale’s other hand reached up and anchored her there, his fingers half-lacing with hers while his thumb ran across the back of her hand. Merit pressed her palm with a soft firmness against him, as if she might quell the orb by sheer force of will alone. Stay with me, she thought, the sentiment steeping into every pore of her. Just stay. Please.

“But we’ll probably end up in Baldur’s Gate first,” she continued instead, “So I’ll show you around of course, and you’ll need to come ‘round the bakery since Fable’s pastries are, to put it mildly, out of this world. And I'd know, because you've taken me there now.”

Just as Gale wanted her to meet Tara, Merit couldn’t imagine a world in which Gale wouldn’t meet her older sister, her best friend and the person she missed most, wondering whether Fable thought her sister was dead, or worse: had abandoned the family. The thought clawed at her insides but she pushed past it, soaking in all of Gale’s expression as she continued, “Not to mention you’re finally getting the hang of chords, and we still haven’t committed one of your poems to song. I have just the melody, too, and we’ll-”

Now it was Gale’s turn to interrupt her with a kiss, one that was so tender yet all-eclipsing that the words poised on her tongue dissolved in an instant, gone as soon as she closed her eyes and breathed him in. Gale’s hand threaded through her hair until his palm cradled the back of her head, angling her face against his as he deepened his kiss and eclipsed her thoughts completely.

Gale finally pulled away, about to launch into an earnest apology but Merit found herself speaking instead, her grip on him pleading and hungry and almost out of her control.

“And because…” she continued, still answering his question from before, her heart gripped with a sudden weight she couldn’t shake, “Where else will all of what I feel for you go if you’re gone?”

Gale's mouth hung quietly open, his gaze forlorn as he read her expression and took her words in. After everything, Merit felt the most naked now, unendingly vulnerable and eternally anxious in the wake of her accidental but heartfelt confession. The truth of it hung between them but left a lump in her throat she couldn’t will away. So instead she committed all of Gale to memory - the look of him, the feel of him, the taste of him - desperately hoping that none of it would fade with time even if she knew it was the way of things.

In what had only been a moment, hanging like a bead in a thread of unending time, Gale rested his forehead against Merit’s, the weight of him against her reassuring, and the closeness of him even more so. He eased into a small, somber smile, but one that radiated with a warmth that could rival the sun as well as the physical sensation of their skin touching now.

“I am far beyond fortunate to have you,” his voice was whispersoft but steadfast as he ran a gentle thumb across the hollow of Merit’s cheek. “Even the power of the Weave is mundane compared to the way you make me feel.”

Merit’s chest felt cavernous at this confession, her skin prickling at the very thought of it. Especially knowing how much it meant.

“I do not presume to know what we might find once we storm Moonrise,” Gale continued. “But if there is any hope of defeating this, it is by your side. If I have learned anything in all my years of living, it is that with you-” he paused, emotion welling in his throat as he looked deeply into her eyes, his voice laced with hushed amazement, “With you perhaps anything is possible.”

A flicker of thought and feeling coursed through Merit’s mind in an instant, a sudden sense of desperation overcome instead by the impossible depth of Gale’s affection. She felt his mind again, then; lighter, hopeful, and smoother around the edges, death no longer looming so close.

And then she heard it: the soft chime of birdsong, the call of early morning. An unusual though welcome sound in a place like this. Or perhaps she'd only imagined it in the wake of the impending dawn. It broke her out of her reverie as well as quelled the miniature universe in which only she and Gale occupied, time slowly eclipsing their borrowed eternity. Either Gale’s spell had only just broken or, if they were lucky, it was merely the very cusp of dawn. The edge of another day.

As much as she wanted to linger here in night never-ending, time beckoned.

“There will be other mornings,” Gale said as if reading her mind before pressing his lips to her cheek, lingering there as he kissed her once, twice, and three times before finally saying, “Brighter ones, with you. I promise.”

#gale x tav #gale x oc #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #tags tags tags idfk #I finished it and posted it don't look at me lol #happy valentine's day #lmao #my writing

14 notes · View notes

where-dreamers-go · 30 days

Note

Could I have Eragon, Murtagh and Arya's reaction to their SO sneaking into their room in the middle of the night because they want to cuddle?

(A/N: Reader requires the cuddles! Warnings: fluff Word count: 417 words)

Quiet filled the night air as daytime creatures and peoples slept. All was well.

Tired and fast asleep, the leader of the Dragon Riders snuggled into the warmth of Saphira’s belly, comforted by familiarity. Eragon remained untouched by all the day’s tasks and worries, finally able to rest. Safe as could be under a wing.

Another body of warmth against his curled up form spooked him, eyes opening quickly.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

Heart thudding against his ribcage, Eragon exhaled.

“What are you doing?” He asked quietly, slowly returning to a sleepy haze with you so near. His dear love.

“The same thing you’re doing.” You replied and nestled yourself between his limbs. “Pleasant dreams.”

Eyelids drooping closed, Eragon kissed your head goodnight.

Nights indoors were nights cherished. Being inside, in shelter, meant safety from weather and unwanted visitors.

Murtagh’s bedroom door remained unlocked, luckily for you.

Sneaking into your significant other’s room sounded easy when shoes were left elsewhere. Closing the door quietly held a greater challenge when you were growing eager to snuggle in bed.

Yet, you did manage to close the bedroom door; much to your satisfaction.

Sounds of fabric alerted you of movement close by.

“Why didn’t you knock?” Murtagh murmured as he rolled over, watching you crawl underneath the blankets unbothered by his words.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you whispered.

“How kind.” He chuckled.

Humming, contently, you pulled Murtagh closer to you, arm around his back. The familiar shape of him molding into your embrace eased any lingering worries of the day. It would be you two and a restful night’s sleep.

Listen, stealth was a skill required after much practice. Sleep was something you hoped to get enough of during the night. You had weighed your options for requiring both for what you wanted.

Slipping into your dear Arya’s bedroom kept you on your toes. Literally and figuratively. Surely she wouldn’t mind her partner walking in late at night.

“You’re stealth needs work,” her smirk could almost be heard in the dark.

Your mouth opened to reply to her remark, but she continued.

“Regardless… What took you so long?”

“I was practicing my stealth. Obviously,” you said by the edge of her bed. “May I join you? Blankets hardly give a suitable embrace.”

“Very well.” Arya pulled back the bedcovers and welcomed you in. Her arms kept you as close as was comfortable for the pair of you.

Quiet filled the room once more and you were more than happier.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags:

Inheritance Cycle Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @emburbaguette

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#eragon shadeslayer #murtagh morzansson #arya drottningu #eragon reaction #eragon imagine #eragon x reader #arya x reader #murtagh x reader #the inheritance cycle #the world of eragon #requested #where dreamers go #fluff

10 notes · View notes

atrickrtreat · 7 months

Text

@malumxsubest 🎲 to generate a kiss for amadeus and dusty and got A kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking

Sharing the bed at the hotel was nice. Not just because she was enamoured with Amadeus but because it was nice to be close to someone when she was falling asleep and when she woke up. It made her feel safe in a way that she hadn't in a long time. When she had fallen asleep that night, she was on 'her' side of the bed but when she woke up, she was nestled against his side, her head on his chest and her arm wrapped around his stomach. Dusty knew that he didn't sleep much and even if his eyes were closed, he might just be pretending for her sake so that she didn't start worrying again.

Idly her fingers started tracing along the one tattoo that was along his ribcage, her head shifting just a little so that her nose could gently nose against his chest with half opened eyes. They landed on the scar that ran down the middle of his chest and she had never dared ask about it, even after the time she had touched one of the ones on his back. Was she curious of course, but it wasn't her place to ask. It wasn't even her place to be this close to him either but this was different. There was something about Amadeus that made her gravitate towards him from the time they first met in the club on Halloween when she didn't have a single clue of who he was. It almost seemed as if her heart had called out and he was the one that answered. Moving her head a bit more, she pressed very gentle, light kisses along the mark before stopping and looking up at him, bringing her hand to rest on his stomach from his side. "I know you're awake," she said quietly. "I'm sorry for doing that, I know you don't like people noticing the marks." However, it was a half-lie. She wasn't really sorry, she'd been wanting to do it for weeks now and unlike her brother, she was willing to take the risk.

#malumxsubest #threads / dusty maloney #ft / amadeus and dusty #added

5 notes · View notes

evoblue · 1 year

Note

[to: Blue] whenever you et this

[to: Blue] just lt me know that you're okay please

[to: Blue] im fine for the record just

[to: Blue] rough night

[to: Blue] sorry

[to: Blue] promise i wont make a habit of this

The numbers 03:17 glow almost mockingly back at her from her nightstand alarm clock. It’s way later than she would’ve liked — and it’s certainly cutting into her beauty sleep — but she has no one to blame but herself ; she could’ve just stayed at a hotel in Goldenrod for the night but it felt silly to do so when she had a place all her own just a train ride away.

A half-empty cup of chamomile tea sits on her vanity, nestled between night cream containers and vials of serums. Blue stifles a long, drawn-out yawn into her palm before resuming the application of her strict nighttime skin care routine. No matter how much she’d rather be curled up in bed right now, it’s one of those things that she refuses to skip no matter what.

As she dabs eye cream on, she can’t help but reflect on the events of the night. The gala had been a smashing success, Magnemite drama and all. Despite all the stress of everything, she’d had a pretty great time, especially with Red. Red…

They... had really almost…

Her face grows hot ; she doesn’t dare complete that sentence. Mew, her heart had wanted to, though it had been at war with her brain, which kept screaming for her to practice some self-preservation. If Delta hadn’t interrupted them, where exactly would they be now?

Would they have actually kissed? Red had definitely leaned in and, against her better judgment, she'd been so ready to meet him halfway but...

She hadn't stopped to think about it, caught up in her own yearnings... is this what he wanted? Does... he actually have feelings for her or was he just caught up in the allure of the moment? The setting, the ballad, it could've all played a part—

—but would Red really do that to her, just on a whim?

And... what would have happened if she'd gone through with it, after so adamantly sought to set some boundaries between the two of them for her own sake?

Where would they have gone from there—?

She’s cut-off mid-thought when Romi alerts her to a new string of messages received on her phone. When she reads who the sender is, her stomach flip-flops. Red? At this hour? And just when he'd been haunting her thoughts?

She clicks on the screen and opens the string of text messages.

Her concern grows steadily with each message. The texts are choppy, like they were typed clumsily, in a hurry. Sure, they'd had a bit of a rough night with the blackout and such but, is that what he's referring to? She replies quickly.

[to: Red] I'm alright, just made it to my apartment in Celadon an hour or so ago.

[to: Red] Still awake, unfortunately.

[to: Red] Don't apologize, though. You can always talk to me.

He never has to apologize for reaching out to her, not after everything they've been through. If only he knew the way her heart bounced in her ribcage when she saw his name on the screen, even if her mind had been elsewhere.

She chews on her thumb for a moment before typing back one more text.

[to: Red] Is everything alright?

#twilighttheater #twilighttheater / red #red ;v;#answered.#:: you hold my heart in your hands ; for you i'll take this chance ( twilighttheater / evoflame )

4 notes · View notes

bokuroskitten · 3 years

Text

𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱’𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔎𝔦𝔯𝔱?

〈you really didn’t mind being the nanny for Daichi’s kids, not when it came with perks.

✮ genre: NSFW 18+ (MINORS DNI)

✮ warnings: Dilf Daichi, daddy kink (daddy title used), age gap, use of handcuffs, spanking, oral (m! receiving), face fucking, creampie, slight breeding kink, cockwarming, spit <3

✮ word count: 2.8

❦ shout out to dilf Daichi, who takes up all the space in my brain

❦ huge thank you to @ohno-otome @oneblonded @rosesandtoshi who took their time to beta this for me, please give them love and appreciation.

“You little slut. What if my kids had seen huh? The fact that you’re not wearing any panties under this little skirt?”

“I’m sure they didn’t notice, but you sure did, huh Daddy?”

You were a cheeky little thing, that was for sure. Daichi had never expected this sort of outcome, not with you, the sweet university babysitter he hired. But there you were, asking for it with that shit-eating grin on your face.

It had been just Daichi and his kids for quite some time, him and the three munchkins. Mom didn’t stick around when she fell for her boss. A businessman, much older and much richer. Daichi had gotten over it, as best as he could. He had all he needed with his kids, who were always full of contagious happiness. But it was tough, being a single dad and working as a full-time cop. When the night shifts started to roll around Daichi took it upon himself to find a suitable nanny.

Which was how the two of you met. You were in university and desperately needed the extra money for the looming student debt. Looking for jobs wasn’t the easiest thing, but what was easy was saying yes to Daichi’s offer. He was willing to pay you more than minimum wage for nights, even offered you the spare room if things got too late or you had class early the next morning. Plus his kids were angels. They got along with you almost instantly, clinging to your legs or begging you to stay longer than your allotted shift time.

Plus, Daichi himself was nice to look at, but you tried your best not to focus on that point.

You had been working for Daichi for a while now, it was almost routine for you to attend volleyball practices, dance recitals, or even just dinner picnics. The kids loved having you around, and all Daichi wanted to do was to see them happy. But that’s when he noticed it, the one day the family had gone to the park. You held the hands of his two youngest, while his oldest showed off the bug he had found hiding in a nearby bush.

It was the way you smiled at them, the way you squeezed the girl's hands a little tighter when they cringed at the bug. The way you bent at the knees to take a better look, and the way your pretty summer dress had risen up just enough for Daichi to sneak a peek at the cotton panties hidden underneath.

Daichi wasn’t blind. In fact, it had been a long time since he indulged himself in a partner. Never enough time, or never willing to bring them home to the kids. But you, you already got along with his babies so well. You took your time to take care of them, even take care of Daichi when you could. Cleaned the house before he got home, ironed his uniform on his night shifts, even brought him coffee when he had early mornings.

So that’s how his glances turned into stares, his roaming eyes turned into winks. The hugs you shared lasted a little longer, the hand he would place on your back would slide a little lower.

He could still remember the very first move he had made. You had fallen asleep on the couch, curled up in one of his sweaters. The kids were put to bed long before, but you always waited for Daichi to return before taking your leave. He had leaned in close, allowing his lips to brush over your forehead. The gentle motion had caused you to stir, tired eyes lazily blinking open to be met with honey brown.

“Why don’t you sleep here tonight?” Daichi had murmured, staying close considering you didn’t push him away. You on the other hand felt your heart beating hard against your ribcage, the smell of his familiar cologne making you feel a bit dizzy. The feeling of sleep slowly faded, replaced with the hazy feeling of need.

Need for him, for anything and everything as long as it was him.

“Can I sleep with you?” It had slipped out of your lips before you could stop yourself. You panicked for a moment seeing his shocked expression, ready to blame it on the tiredness. But there was no need when he pressed his lips against yours when he scooped you off the couch and easily hauled you up into his bedroom.

That was only the beginning. The two of you found yourself kissing in the bathroom while the kids played outside, Daichi having you warm his cock during family movie night. The first time you had whimpered out Daddy while he had you bent over his lap was still engraved in his brain. The longer the affair went on, the more playful and lust-filled it became.

So that's how the two of you ended up here, now.

Daichi had you pinned against the counter now, palm pressed against your head to keep you down while his palm slowly rose up your thigh. He groaned when his fingers slipped under the short hem of your skirt, reaching the swell of your ass only to find no panties there.

“Course I noticed, with how you were bending over all over the place, anyone coulda seen this slutty little ass.” His words were husky, pushed out between gritted teeth as he squeezed the plump skin of your ass. You whined at him, face flushed as your hips wiggled into his palm.

That only made him strike down on your skin, his palm open as the spank clapped throughout the room. “Slutty girls don’t get to be greedy like that. I think I need to put you in your place, is that it? Have you lost all your manners, baby?”

You tried to shake your head, nod, do anything. But your brain was already foggy as Daichi brought down another spank, making the skin of your ass pulse. “Want your cock, Daddy.”

“Oh, yeah? And your way of asking was prancing around with no panties on?” The third slap was the hardest, and this time on your bare flesh. He had bunched your skirt up at your waist, making you jolt from the sudden slap to your skin. His hand print was already forming when he rubbed the cheek, a low hum leaving his chest.

“You’re just like the kids huh? Thinking you can get away with anything if you’re cute enough. Not in this house. You should know that by now baby.” His voice sent shivers all the way down to your cunt, the wetness already threatening to dribble down your thighs. “Hands behind your back.”

You tried to question him, but the fourth spank had you yelping, reminding you that his words were a command and not a request. You felt the cold metal click around both your wrists, a blush rising on your cheeks when you tried to pull your hands away only to find them stuck in place.

“Daddy’s gonna teach his pretty baby what happens to bad little girls looking for attention.”

You were hauled over his shoulder before you even had a chance to complain. Daichi had no problem carrying your squirming body up the stairs, your whines and complaints falling upon deaf ears. When he closed the door to his bedroom he put you on the ground, which only made you whine more as he approached the bed without you.

“Daddy—“

“Get over here.” He explained calmly. His muscles were tense, but his face showed no emotion as he sat on the edge of his bed. When you made no move he rose an expectant brow. “We don’t have all day, would you rather I fuck my fist—“

“No!”

Interrupting him, another act of disobedience that made his brow twitch in distaste. “Get over here.” He repeated, this time his voice a bit deeper, more serious.

You didn’t waste another second, scrambling over on your knees. It was difficult with your hands cuffed, but you made it between his thighs. You were about to press kisses against his thighs before you felt him grab a handful of hair at the nape of your neck. When he cranked your head back you yelped, shoulders slouching at the look he gave you.

Cold.

“Open your mouth.” There was no hesitation this time when your trembling lower lip opened up, tongue poking out. Daichi tsked, grabbing the end of your tongue and pulling it out further. Tears pricked your eyes at the action, drool uncontrollably slipping out of your mouth.

“Being shy now, are we? How can you act so modest when you aren’t even wearing panties.” He spat a wad of saliva on your tongue, his lips twitching in a grin as he watched your eyes flutter, a little mewl leaving your hung lips. He slowly released your tongue but kept his grip on your hair tight. “Don’t swallow. Keep that tongue out.”

You were trembling a bit, trying your best to keep your excitement at bay and hold his spit on your tongue as he unbuckled his slacks. He pulled the belt out in one smooth motion, pulling the material far enough down that his cock could spring free. When it slapped back against his abs, you clenched your thighs together tightly.

He wasted no more time guiding your head onto his cock, pressing it down until your throat bulged, until you gagged, until your nose was nestled in his trimmed pubic hair.

“Now, I’m gonna have to wash this filthy mouth out. Fuck some manners into your throat huh?”

He thrust into your throat without pause, his hand continuing to hold you steady as he fucked into your mouth. The tears were already spilling from your eyes, drool freely bubbling past stretched lips as Daichi used your mouth as he saw fit. He pulled out just until his tip stayed lodged between your lips, groaning at the way you desperately tried to suck in air through your nose. You were already coming undone, and it was so beautiful to watch.

“Crying over a little punishment? You’re such a little bitch.” He waited until you began suckling on his tip, attempting to whine around it before pumping it into your mouth again. He kept one hand against your throat, pupils dilating in feral desire every time he felt it bulge under his fingertips. He didn’t last with a pace like this, his hips stuttering when his release wracked over him hard.

“Swallow every fucking drop, you’re gonna need it to wash out that mouth.” He grunted, holding your face down as ropes of hot cum slipped from his pulsing tip. You shook around his dick, throat clenching so desperately as the hot, sticky substance slid down your throat, feeling warm all the way down into your belly.

Daichi pulled out with a pop, one that had you sucking in a shaky breath. When you blinked the remaining tears from your lashes you lulled your tongue out, showing him a clean surface that had him humming in approval.

“Looks like you are good for something, huh, taking all my cum down your throat.”

Using the grip in your hair he easily hauled you to your feet, watching the way you stumbled face-first into the mattress. Your face was a mess of spit and drool as you looked up at him over your shoulder, hips rutting into his soft sheets. “D-Daddy...”

“D-d-daddy” He mimicked, flipping your skirt up and tucking the hem in at the waist. He wasted no time grabbing your hips, pulling them up for a better angle. “You’re a big girl, use your words.”

You had to compose yourself, mind already going blank as he simply spread your ass apart, getting a better look at your arousal. “C-Can you fuck me please? Need your cock Daddy..”

“Now if you had just asked me like that before, none of this woulda happened Angel...” He sighed it out, two fingers slowly sliding up your puffy slit to collect your slick. He rubbed it along his cock, even though it was already lubed up with your spit. “I don’t like when you misbehave you know that baby girl.”

His voice had already gotten softer, making your cunt flutter around nothing. When he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit you mewled, nails digging into your palms as the cuffs clinked around your trembling wrists. “Gunna say sorry to me hm? Wanna hear you say it nice and pretty.”

“Sorry Daddy, M’sorry” it spilled from your lips, words slightly muffled by the sheets as he rubbed his tip over your slit. “Won’t do it again Daddy, just wanna make you happy, want your cock.”

“I know sweetheart, you’re such a good girl for me, even when you decide to be a little cheeky.”

He began to press into you, slow and steady. He wanted to feel all your little dips, all the bumps and spongy spots he loved so dearly as he bottomed out within you. Your mouth hung open in a little ‘o’, back arching so his tip could tap against your cervix when he finally bottomed out. “Fuck, love this perfect little cunt, still squeezes me like the first time.” He growled out, fingers reaching for the cuffs. He gripped them tightly, used them as leverage for when he began to fuck into you.

It was slow and deep, each thrust meant to press his tip into your sweet spot. The pace had your eyes rolling back, babbles spilling out of your hung lips in a dumb little mantra. It didn’t even make sense, Daichi knew that, but he just loved to hear you. Loved hearing you whimper and ramble about how you loved his cock, about how daddy’s cock felt so good, about how you wanted to be no ones but his.

“My good little girl, takin' my cock so well. Gunna fuck a baby in here one day, would you like that Angel? Wanna be the mommy to my beautiful kids and our own?”

That had you squeezing his cock, a low groan vibrating in his chest as he picked up his pace. The slap of his hips against your ass echoed in the room, your cries of delight being muffled into the sheets. Using his grip on the cuffs he yanked you forward until your back was pressed into his chest. He stuffed two fingers between your lips, having you both moan in unison.

“Keep milkin' my cock just like that baby girl, gunna fill this little cunt and then fuck right back into it so we don’t lose a single drop.” You babbled a ‘yes daddy’ around his fingers, head lulled onto his shoulder as he thrust into your cunt. It was pulsing around him, building up a pool of arousal in your abdomen that was so close to snapping. When his free hand snaked to your clit, rubbing deep circles into it had you sobbing, hips humping frantically to meet his thrusts and chase your release.

“That’s it...” Daichi murmured by your ear, his breath thick and hot as he snapped into your ass. His finger slid from your mouth instead, only to grip your pretty throat. “Cum sweetheart, cum on my cock yea? Wanna feel you cream on me.”

And you did just that, with a silent scream and a jolt of your body finishing around his cock. That final squeeze of your cunt around him had Daichi moaning, his thrusts messy and uncoordinated as his own high ripped through him. His balls twitched as he emptied another load in you, hot cum making goosebumps form all over your skin. He slowed his thrusts, his fingers pressing light taps into your clit now as you rode out the high together. He watched as his cock got coated in a white sheen, the shine of your mixed arousal making him bite his lower lip.

“What a good girl...” He huffed. He reached between you two to release the safety from the handcuffs, allowing them to fall to the bed with a clank. He was gentle as he laid the two of you down, a mess of limbs and sweat as he stayed balls deep in your cunt.

“Gunna stay just like this. Keep you nice and plugged.” He reassured, one palm smoothing over your tummy as he pressed kisses into your shoulder. “At least until the kids wake back up, gotta make sure Daddy’s cum stays inside, isn’t that right baby?”

“Right Daddy,” you murmured out, blissed and fucked out. You could have fallen asleep, just like that with his dick still buried inside. But you knew the kids would be up in thirty minutes from their naps, so you’d enjoy this time while you could, being full.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #hq fanfic #haikyuu headcanons #hq smut #sawamura daichi #daichi sawamura #daichi smut #daichi x reader #daichi x y/n #daichi x you #daichi x reader smut

773 notes · View notes

gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Tower

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | two

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You’re apart of the Refugee Relief Movement, an intergalactic organization providing aid throughout the systems, and you find yourself assisting at a resettlement camp in Lothal when disaster strikes, changing your life forever, intertwining your path with that of a certain Mandalorian bounty hunter.

Word count: 3.7k~

Rated: Mature

Warnings: descriptive violence, blood/injury mentioning, danger, mature language

Notes: Hi y'all, welcome. This fic is going to be set during Season 2 of The Mandalorian, and will be what I like to call ‘canon adjacent’. ALSo, this chapter is very much so Reader focused, setting up the scene and the general pacing of the story, but naturally, Din will be more and more featured as things progress. I’m a sucker for backstory and a slow burn, so ye be warned. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) I’d love to hear from you lovely little beans. Be safe out there, friends.

Lothal was a planet all too familiar with occupation.

You remember seeing a quote somewhere that read ‘Look no further than Lothal if you want to see what happens when the Empire takes control of an entire world’; and although the Imperial chokehold had loosened when the Empire fell, the planet, even all these years later, still found itself gasping for breath.

Off world migration from the Core Worlds had been popularized since the expansion of the Imperial government bureaucracy, which brought booming business opportunities for the fortunate few, but as the rich became richer, the poor grew poorer. The Lothalites were forced out of their homes, off their own lands—refugees on their own planet; forced to resettle and relocate with nothing but the clothes on their back and the possessions they could cram into their pockets. The only heirlooms passed on from generation to generation were that of poverty, tall tales of former splendor, and the greatest of ancestral traumas: disillusionment.

The truly desperate turned to crime, and what couldn’t be solved by back-dealings and blaster fire was managed with fear mongering and the bitter flair of xenophobia. There was always a species to blame, and it was always the one who seemed to be doing better off, no matter how slight the margin.

Greed. Fear. Despair. These are the currencies in which the galaxy trades.

And so it was then, and continued to be, cycle after cycle. History, always finding clever ways to repeat itself.

On bad days, pollution still loomed heavy over the atmosphere—remnants of the fires from the Imperial occupation still clinging on to Lothal’s weary bones. She had been stripped during that time; gutted and strung up by her feet to dangle from the Empire’s meat hook, exsanguinated slowly, drop by drop, until she had nothing left to give. Her resources and minerals and ore and water and seed, robbed. Pillaged.

She’s free from it now, but the scars remain— the planet remembers. Her people do not forget. Like muscle memory, they all ungulate to this synthesized rhythm they can’t seem to shake, day in and day out, wandering. Forever unsettled.

The planet had always had a diverse population and had become something of a safe haven for other abandoned people fleeing their home worlds, determined to find somewhere - anywhere - for them to survive. Lothal provided that for them. It wasn’t rich or bountiful by any stretch, but it was simple and safe—safe in the way hidden things in plain sight are. One could blend into the crowd of many, unique faces, of all races and backgrounds; you could be anonymous, if you wanted. You could be free.

That’s how you’ve found yourself here in Jortho. You had been with the Refugee Relief Movement for the better part of what felt like forever, and they had transferred you to this planet not six weeks ago. You were out on rotation; the RRM sends someone new twice a cycle for the span of a month or two to varying locations to supply rations, aid with the influx of refugees, organize resettlement lodgings, and generally be of assistance when and where you could. However, your tenure on this temperate planet was coming to a close, and soon you’d be flying back to the headquarters on Coruscant before being bounced to another post somewhere out among the stars.

You love your job. You know it’s unpopular to say, but you do. It’s fulfilling and impactful and indescribably special. The individuals you meet, the stories you hear, they’re invaluable— priceless and precious, like handmade trinkets crafted by the fingers of a child; you press them all to your heart, holding them there. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get to you— the weight of it; the plights of all of these people, all of these lives, burdening your conscience. It isn’t always painless— you aren’t immune to it. Even so, on most nights you manage to sleep easy, tucked away aboard the transport freighter you flew in on with the batch of settlers newly assimilated into town knowing Maker, at least you were doing something— anything— everything you could.

And really, to call Jortho a town would be an insult to all towns everywhere—but ‘town’ has a certain charm to it that ‘refugee camp’ simply did not, and it gave the people hope. Pride, even. That they belonged somewhere.

You suppose that’s all anyone wants. To belong.

A feather soft gust of wind tickles the golden blades of prairie grass as the sun, bleary and tired, starts dipping from the sky. The crickbeets begin their song early, trilling, sensing Lothal’s moons still coyly tucked away, hiding somewhere along the horizon. A smile adorns your face, private and serene, as you bring a bowl of broth up to your lips, humming when the warm liquid meets your tongue. You sigh, contented, taking in the sights before you; how the dusk blurs the aromatic air, making it opaque, the shuttles docked across the way from you casting long purple shadows onto the flat plains, the snowcapped mountains in the distance bordering the cant of the planet’s surface, nestling Jortho in a shallow valley.

You feel calm, at peace, and take another sip.

An easy moment passes, and it’s the last one you get before silence stalks up from behind you.

You don’t notice it at first, like any patient predator, it goes undetected: the white noise, the nothingness— until finally, you do and then suddenly it’s everywhere. On top of you. Smothering you. Goosebumps stipple your skin and you bristle. The insects have stopped chirping. The breeze has stilled. The air hangs dead.

And then—

Chaos.

You’re hit with a blast of crushing heat, the sheer power of it picking you up off your feet and onto your side, sending your body careening into a nearby structure. Your shoulder takes most of the blow, but your neck still snaps backwards unnaturally, the back of your head colliding with the stone wall behind you with a dull thwack. You let out a groaned cry at the impact, the wind knocked out of your lungs as you crumple to the ground.

For an instant, your vision goes white, stars popping and fusing out in front of your pupils, and it’s like you can feel everything and nothing all at once, hollow but overwhelmed, and all you want to do is close your eyes and drift asleep— Maker that would feel like a luxury, just right here on the damn dirt. And you almost do, you almost let yourself slip under and sink— until you hear a piercing scream from somewhere close.

Immediately your eyes shoot open, desperately blinking away the blurriness that threatens to over take them, and you try pushing yourself up by the heels of your scraped hands, failing once - twice - before finding your footing. You’re shaky at first, uncoordinated and dizzy and redownloading bipedalism, before that sweet drug of adrenaline starts to course through your veins and finally, finally, you take in your surroundings.

The ships that once stood across the field are gone, obliterated, and in their place only metal ribcages remain—empty carcasses like dead birds splayed on their backsides, imploded from the inside out, their bits strewn all around you.

Your breathing comes hard and heavy, fighting down panic, and cloudy eyes search through the thick black smoke billowing up in stacks, trying to pin point the source of the scream you’d heard just moments ago. You cough a strained wheeze, sputtering against the charred air, and wade your way through the debris— it’s only then that you realize the magnitude of the explosion. It’s not just the landing bay, it’s half the kriffing village. The buildings that neighbored the airfield had been decimated, burning roofs and crumbling fixtures, homes collapsing onto themselves, scorch marks and shrapnel branding the outsides of the shanties left standing.

It looks like a battlefield. You’ve seen holovids of this—what war can look like, how it can ruin a people… But you’ve never had to stand in the middle of it, head on.

Your heart drums against your chest as you break into a hobbled run, desperately scanning the area for any signs of life, up and down, left and right, straining against the waning daylight. It’s then that you hear your name, urgent and frantic, and you whip your head in it’s direction, knees nearly buckling in relief. You immediately recognize your friend Hareem, brandishing her arms at you, waving you over to her.

“Thank the Maker, you’re alright!” the Balosar cries out, trembling hands finding purchase on your shoulders, bracing you. You don’t know if its for your benefit or her own, but either way you’re grateful for the grounding pressure; for the first time since the initial blast, you feel solid, like you won’t just float away, atomized and weightless. Worried, you look her over. A sliver of fresh scarlet blooms from her scalp, a small line trickling down past her temple, but she otherwise looks relatively unharmed. You grasp onto her wrist, squeezing firmly.

“What the hell happened?” You ask, voice low and pitched, wide fearful eyes drilling into her.

“T-There was a man-” And she shakes her head, mouth clamping shut, deep wrinkles framing her face.

“Hareem,” you reassure, giving her another squeeze. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.

She tries again with a steadying inhale, “I-I saw him. A-a man. He had a device with him, and he set charges, and Maker I don’t know— I don’t know— it went off a-and he ran towards the center of town!” The Balosar is in hysterics, tears spilling down her dirty cheeks, and it takes your brain a moment to catch up, to wrap your mind around the words she’s stuttering out.

A man.

Device.

Charges.

A bomb. This wasn’t an accident; this was an attack—and he’s still kriffing here. You cup her cheeks, thumbs rubbing against the pale skin, smearing away the blood that’s nearly dripped to her chin. Your friend’s gaze is flighty, everywhere and nowhere, and you try giving her a smile, but you’re not quite sure you manage it.

“Hareem? Hareem. Hey, shh, you’re okay. You’re alright…” You peel your eyes off her to glance around hurriedly. “We need to find cover.”

///

You’re holed up in one of the few remaining homes on this side of the encampment, crowded into the small space with three other survivors. All four of you, packed in and silent and petrified. Unsure of any further threat, you stay completely still. Helpless. Laying here, idle, for whatever awaits you behind that feeble, wooden door. You feel like prey for the wicked, just passing the time.

Minutes inch along like this—or maybe its hours; time moves eerily different when you’re attempting to become invisible—and eventually, you almost begin to relax.

Almost.

But a new sound breaks the din, hard to recognize at first, indistinct from all the commotion outside their hut, but you hear it. You all do. The youngest of you, a teenaged Devaronian, grips onto the hem of your shirt, knuckles creasing with anticipation. You tense, spine going rigid. Footsteps. They’re slow, guarded, but they’re getting closer. You bring an arm up, for all the good it’ll do, creating a human shield in front of the boy at your side. Closer. Someone behind you muffles a whimper. Closer. A Bardottan you hadn’t even met until today let’s out the faint whisper of a prayer, lips barely ghosting over the phrases. Closer-

and then, nothing.

They’re here. You can sense him, see his shadow sweep across the gaps in the entryway. You all hold your breath, as if the air is being syphoned out of the space… And the door is flung open, nearly breaking off it’s hinges as it slams into the inside of the house, shuttering the rickety walls with a jarring bang.

You don’t know who looks more astonished: you four, or the Mandalorian before you, dripping head to toe in silver plated armor, pointing a blaster directly at your head.

“Where is he?” He asks, hard edged and modulated, and it’s more of a demand than a question—but he lowers his weapon all the same, holstering it at his side. You gape at him, guppying wordlessly. “Volcur X’elo. The bomber. Where?” He hasn’t moved an inch out of the doorframe but he’s still managing to loom over you, completely filling up the archway, shoulders set and impossibly intimidating.

You gulp, finally finding your voice. “In town, i-in the center of town…” Kriff, you had not idea if that intel was good or not, but it’s all you think to say. Seeming satisfied with your answer he turns on his booted heel, cape whipping behind him, leaving just as soon as he arrived. The dust barely has time to settle as the door teeter’s on its hinge, its rusty squeaks filling the void in the Mandalorian’s wake.

“Fuck,” you hiss, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, doubling forward, propping your palms up on your knees.

///

After deliberating it with your group, you all come to the agreement of braving it outside. Better to be out under the open sky than die under a concaving apartment, clambering over each other to get to the exit. After all this, at least your dignity was still partially in tact— normally, you reckon you’d chuckle dryly at that. But you don’t.

Can’t.

You lead the pack through the mazelike streets. The sights that once seemed so familiar after weeks of living here become like strangers to you, and you sleepwalk through Jortho, snaking down paths marred by rubble and fallen wreckage— you haven’t seen any bodies, but maybe that isn’t true. Maybe you’re just too scared to notice them. Maybe they’re there, hovering just outside of your peripherals, haunting the corners of your vision…

You keep your head fixed forward, jaw clenched.

Your feet move on their own like this, only vaguely aware that the red-skinned boy still hadn’t let go of your tunic. You forge on. Have to. You have to. Your only purpose on this kriffing planet was to help these people, to bring them aid, and if that means simply planting one foot in front of the other, then so be it. You take side alleys, double backing here and there, ducking under canopies, looping around yourself, only stopping when you catch a glimpse of beskar, the orange setting sun glinting off the surface of his helmet.

And he’s not alone.

You freeze suddenly, as do the rest, and the Devaronian bumps into you, stumbling under his lanky legs. Some paces in front of you, the bounty hunter has the other man, this Volcur X’elo, by a punishing grip on his shoulders, shoving him forcefully out in front of him; his wrists are bound and he’s fitful without the stabilization of his arms, his feet staccatoed and flailing wildly beneath him as the Mandalorian marches him forward.

The wind shifts, and on it you can hear the bomber rant madly, only catching snippets of the vile nonsense that spews from him.“- like swine, they are a plague to the system! And they must be purged from this planet, and the next, and the next— every last filthy one!” You spare a glance to Hareem, to find her watching the scene in hypnotized horror, but your eyes snap back at the sound of something maniacal, drawing your attention. It’s laughter. The zealot begins to laugh a twisted, mocking cry that makes you want to vomit. “You might have me in binders Mandalorian, but you’re too late. You’re too late. This isn’t over!” He’s practically giggling, gleeful and demented. Disturbed. “You’ve only found one.”

Your blood runs cold.

Only one? Oneoneoneone, one what-

The realization hits you with a punch to your gut. He’s only detonated one of his bombs. Somewhere, nearby, there must be another.

Without another word, the Mandalorian whips the smaller man around, pulling him sharply by his collar to collide with his breastplate, completely dwarfing him with his beskar frame. “Where is it, X’elo?” Nothing. Only laughter. High pitched, terrible roars. He tries again, patience ebbing. “The bomb. Now.” X’elo’s head tilts back and he howls another crowing shriek, keeping private his own sick joke, as if clutching a secret to his chest with slimy hands.

The bounty hunter had heard enough. He clearly wasn’t getting anything more out of him, and with a quick strike, he rears his blaster and pistol whips the terrorist with it. The body drops. Volcur X’elo crumples, unconscious, blood streaming from where he was struck. You hear the Bardottan behind you stifle a cry with her fist.

And with that, Lothal’s sun disappears completely, stealing away the last of it’s light as it furls into itself, shrinking out of sight. The dark ushers a new wave of dread, creeping over Jortho like a miasma, poisoning the very air.

The Mandalorian wheels around, searching for his heading in the labyrinth of the town. Others have gathered now, poking their heads around corners, stealing glimpses through windows. He turns, his head on a swivel. “Where is your power generator?” he demands, addressing the small crowd, but you’re all too stunned to speak. “Anybody. Generator. Now.” There’s something new in his voice, something muddled, and it takes you a moment to interpret it. It’s desperation, you realize, tinny and deep through his vocoder, and with a surge of adrenaline you move forward, furthering yourself from your group. You swallow. “I-Its this way.” Upon hearing your voice, he spins around, his visor latching on to you, and with a nod you both set out.

“Watch him,” the Mandalorian growls past his shoulder, stepping over the bounty’s limp body.

///

You’re still not really sure how he knew where it’d be, you wonder to yourself, gravel crunching under foot as you both trudge on, an eery quiet settling over them. You’d say it was a lucky hunch, but judging by the way the Mandalorian carries himself, you doubt luck had much to do with it.

You had led him to the power generator hub on the other side of the sad excuse for a city, traveling in tense silence, and when you came upon that tall, bulky machine he sprang into action, circling it until he found what he was looking for. The bomb. You stood back, rooted there, and after some grunting and rewiring— or maybe he just hacked at it with a vibroblade, you had no idea; his wide frame engulfed his work and you couldn’t tell what he was up to, all you knew was that his methods proved successful— the man managed to disarm the second device. You had thought you noticed his shoulders release, slumping with relief, after the red flashing lights on the rudimentary interface flickered and then went dark.

And so here you are. The two of you, bathed in the bright light of Lothal’s twin moons, their bellies hanging full in the blue-black night, illuminating the trail of blood staining the dirt beneath your boots as the Mandalorian roughly drags the body by his ankle behind him— through the exploded rubble, through the fragmented lives of the people around you, already displaced and estranged. They’ll all have to move, you think, pack up their lives, or what little is left of them, and relocate. Again. The thought sinks in you like a stone, sobering you.

Even with the weight of a fully grown man to lug, the bounty hunter is still a few long strides in front of you and your eyes are trained on the unconscious form, taking in the way his mouth lolls open like an animal, his hair matted with thick blood, eyes rolled back into his head. You’re talking out loud before you even realize it.

“How sick do you have to be,” you mumble, transfixed. Your voice, it’s not angry; no, shock has effectively robbed you of that— it’s not anger, but bewilderment. Quivering, broken bewilderment.

“H-How hoodwinked and warped you’d have to be, how disturbed... For you to think like that. To do all... all this...”

“Hey,” his gruff voice shakes you from your trance, and you blink up at him, tearing your eyes off the body. “Focus,” he urges, and you can only nod dumbly back at him, suddenly feeling a ripple of nausea slither through you.

The ramp to his ship is lowering as they come upon it and you plant yourself at the base, feet seeming to stop on their own accord, and frankly you’re not really sure why you’ve even followed him this far in the first place— always a step behind him as he hauled his bounty all the way through the vestiges of Jortho, across the arid prairie to where he first touched down. Maybe it’s because you feel untethered, unmoored, and all of his steeled surety is like a lighthouse, a beacon, guiding you away from the rocks.

He heaves X’elo up the ramp and you’re left standing there, staring unseeingly into the durasteel, becoming more and more aware of the ringing in your ears. The longer time passes, the more it’s as if you’re underwater, the background blurring into the foreground, sound gargled and far away. A high pitched buzz pinches your ear drums, and it takes you a moment to realize the Mandalorian is calling out to you, trying to get your attention.

“— Dala.”

Does he sound annoyed? Kriff, you think he might... If you had your wits about you, you might be able to recognize it. But as it stands, you don’t. You’re not here, not all of you. You’re splintered. Suspended.

“Hmm? Sorry, what..?” Your mouth is as dry as Jakku— parched desert tongue darting across your cracked lip, tasting soot and ash and something metallic. Brow furrowed, you touch a shaky finger to the flesh and when you pull it back, crimson red dots your skin.

Oh, you think, numb. Huh.

Your eyes skitter back up to the Mandalorian, towering over you, nearly at the apex of the incline, and his stance is broad and his fists are clenched. You’re almost positive he’s glaring down at you through his visor, and you don’t even know the man, can’t even see his damn face, but you can tell he’s peeved— Maker, just how long had you been ignoring him?

A scratched noise comes through his helmet’s vocoder and his next words are clipped, punctuated. “I said, do you have a way off this skug hole?”

406 notes · View notes

little-diable · 4 years

Text

Potter - Draco Malfoy (angst/smut)

Request by anon: Hello. I love your imagines! Can I request a Draco smut? The reader and him are in a secret romance due to her being Harry's sister. She is Harry's stolen object in the second task, but she doesn't know how to swim. Draco saves her and has soft smut in the Prefect bathroom with multiple "I love you"s.

Hope this is what you had in mind. Enjoy my loves. xxx

“Sh, don’t want anybody to hear us, do we?” His lips nibbled on her neck, hands massaging her skin, leaving a few hidden marks, something he’ll be able to admire later on. His scent filled her nostrils, the faint green apple aroma made a homey feeling overcome her, trying to pull her love even closer.

“My gorgeous love,“ Draco breathed out, smiling at her, those bright eyes twinkling in the darkness of the storage room, he loved to feel her close, pressed against his chest, shuttered breaths leaving her swollen lips, begging for more.

“We need to leave,“ (y/n) mumbled, she couldn’t miss her brothers first task, still shaken up from the way he had whispered “dragons” just last night. Her first instinct had been to tell him to quit, she couldn’t endure watching him struggle against something that deadly, but soon enough the (y/h/c) haired Potter girl realized, she couldn’t do anything, besides cheering for her brother, supporting him no matter what.

“Fucking Potter,“ Draco muttered under his breath, groaning as his girlfriend slapped her hand against his abdomen.

„Don‘t Draco, he’s my bother,“ (y/n) reminded him once again, as if he wasn’t struggling with the sober truth every single day.

Draco and (y/n) had crossed paths years ago, eyes gazing at each other as the hat sorted them into their houses. A Malfoy would naturally be placed into Slytherin, just like (y/n) followed her brother into Gryffindor. Draco could still feel the uneasy feeling rising in his stomach as the hat called “Gryffindor”, he had deeply wished for her to follow him into Slytherin.

It had taken (y/n) and Draco a few years to finally find each other, coming clean with their emotions, hiding their relationship from curious eyes, especially the ones of Dracos so called enemy, Harry Potter, (y/n)s brother.

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry.“Draco kissed her forehead, running a hand through his bright blonde hair, trying to lace his voice with any sympathy, struggling to do so. “I’ll find you later on,“ and off he went, blending in with the rest of the students, cheering for anybody who didn’t carry the name Potter.

His bright eyes would unintentionally find her (y/e/c) ones from time to time, checking to see, if she was alright, his heart was clenching at the sight, she was trembling, hands interlaced with Hermoines. Draco wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, his mind was coming up with all the supportive things he’d whisper into her ear.

He caught himself admiring her features more than once, proud that he was the one, that got to call her his girlfriend, he’d do anything to show her off to all those students, if his bloodline and her brother wouldn’t stand in their way.

Even Draco felt scared, just for a second though, but his emotions were pure, watching Harry disappear, chased by the dragon, praying that he’d make it. Harry couldn’t leave (y/n) behind, he was the only true family member she had left, not as if she’d ever call her uncle and her aunt her family.

“God, Harry,“ she fell into her brothers arms, a relieved sob left her lips, (y/n) inhaled his scent, the all too familiar calming sensation overcame her, made her sink into her brothers embrace even further. “I’m alright, don’t worry,“ he kissed her hairline, hands tightly squeezing her before he let go of her, ready to celebrate his victory.

Harry and Draco would cross paths once that evening, Harrys eyebrows would furrow together as he caught the blonde Slytherin staring at his sister, the almost lovingly seeming smile he shot her made Harry frown.

“(Y/n), love, look at me,“ Draco had her pressed against the cold wall, hands wrapped around her trembling frame. „He won’t leave you, Harry will survive this tournament.“

An exhausted expression grazed Dracos features, both, (y/n) and Draco hadn’t caught much sleep these past few days, she’d seek him out whenever another nightmare would haunt her, not able to keep on sleeping without him near.

“Sorry,“ (y/n) hiccuped, fingers grasping the fabric of his sweater, too scared to let go of him. She admired him, truly did, thankful for muttering those sweet words to her, obviously trying to swallow down his hatred for her brother. “Don’t be,“ he kissed her forehead, dipping his head down to pull her into him.

“I love you,“ she mumbled against his lips, kissing him one last time before she disappeared into the darkness, creeping down the hallways, finding her way back to her dorm, praying for at least a few hours of sleep.

But as (y/n) had been woken up from her sleep early in the morning, she cursed herself for ever leaving the comfortableness of her bed, desperate to find her love, not able to calm the raging storm inside her mind herself. Hermoine and Ron had dragged her to where they’d meet with Dumbledore, getting initiated into the next task.

An uneasy feeling settled inside her bones, (y/n) had never liked the water, never felt calm in the crashing waves of the ocean, so she refused to learn how to swim, she wouldn’t need to swim anyways, well, how wrong she had been.

Neither the teachers nor Ron and Hermoine spared her protests any mind, trying to bribe her into it, telling her how much she’d help her brother with it, since everybody knew, that (y/n) would give her all for Harry, even her last breath.

“No, absolutely not,“Draco muttered, arms crossed in front of his chest, staring down on his girlfriend. „I don’t have any other choice,“ she sounded just as unconvinced, her mind was racing, anxiety nestled in her, god, she prayed that Harry would be able to rescue her.

“I’ll only give him a few minutes, otherwise I’ll step in,“ Draco left without kissing her goodbye, too enraged to even think straight, not noticing her sad eyes on him, aching for his touch. “I love you,“ she whispered into the hallway, eyes set on the spot where Draco had just been standing on a few moments ago.

With trembling legs she stood in front of the old wizard, hopeful eyes were gazing at her. “It will be alright Miss Potter, don’t worry,“ he winked at her. She shot her friends one last glance before she got put into her trance, disappearing down the lake, darkness engulfed her, lulled her in.

Dracos hard eyes were focused on the lake, he kept on tapping his foot, counting the minutes, cold sweat was breaking out on his back, he felt scared, truly scared, for the first time in his life. “What’s going on with you Malfoy?” Goyle chuckled, teasing his distressed friend.

The prince of Slytherin pushed him out of the way as Harry broke through the lakes surface, (y/n) nowhere to be seen. “Where is she?” Draco spat, eyes finding Harrys shivering frame. „I don’t know,“ Harry stuttered, he hadn’t noticed the way she had struggled underwater, hadn’t noticed her letting go of his hand. Only now he seemed to realize, that his sister was actually not by his side.

Blood was rushing in Dracos ears, too many thoughts and emotions crashed upon him, his limbs began to tremble, scared of losing his one true love. Curious eyes watched him pull off his coat and shoes, drowning out the cheering for the other contestants.

“Fucking Potter,“ Draco spat, diving headfirst into the black waters, he’d rescue her, no matter what. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, Draco tried to calm himself down, knowing that it would take him a while to find his girlfriend. Glad for all those hours his parents made him take swimming lessons, diving for hours on end, looking for random objects underwater.

His bright eyes found her unresponsive figure on the lakes ground, tears were welling up in his eyes, blurring his already limited vision. Draco wrapped his arms around her frame, with his last breath he pulled themselves up the water, gasping as he broke through the lakes surface. “Don’t touch her,“ he growled at Harry, placing (y/n) down on the wooden stand, desperately trying catch her (y/e/c) eyes staring at him.

Draco shook her a few times, cradling her cold frame in his arms, a relived sigh made it past his lips as she began to cough up the water in her lungs. “Finally,” he breathed into her ear, wrapping his coat around her shivering limbs. He didn’t let Harry near him, silencing him with a simple “not now Potter” every time he tried to apologize to his sister.

“Come on, let’s take a bath my love,“ Draco was still carrying her, glad to finally be back at the castle, walking up to the perfect’s bathroom, knowing that they’d find some peace up there. “Let me help you,“ he slowly unbuttoned her blouse, eyes focused on hers, drops of water were dripping down from her tips, her lips were slightly blue, (y/n) wouldn’t let go of his hands.

Draco had to bite down the “I told you so”, that was about to spill from his lips, but her dilated pupils were enough to shut him up, enough to pull her against his chest, kissing her forehead over and over again.

She was placed on his lap, front pushed against his, hands tangled in his hair, the warm water engulfed them, calmed their shivering limbs. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that,“ (y/m) mumbled against his neck, her heart felt heavy, she didn’t care about almost drowning, didn’t care that Harry forgot about her, only cared about the way Draco felt, the anxious feelings, that ran through his veins.

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault my love,“ Draco grasped her neck, pulled her in for a kiss. „I’ve never been that scared. It made me realize, that I can’t be myself without you by my side, you’re my everything and I truly love you.” Draco confessed, chuckling at the smile, that tugged on her lips.

“I love you too,“ she whispered, pushing her lips against his, dipping her tongue into his mouth, deepening the sensual gesture. Both were in their own little bubble of calmness, relishing in being that close to one another, set on making them feel as loved and appreciated as possible.

Dracos hands found her wetness, he growled into her mouth, fingers dipping into her heat, spreading her open. “So pretty,“ (y/n) gasped at his praising, nails clawing into his shoulders. „Make love to me Draco,“ she moaned, desperate to wrap her walls around him.

She sunk down on his hard length, he filled her in every right way, deliciously stretching her. “Draco,“ (y/n) cried out his name, his hands placed on her behind, stabilizing her movement. (Y/n) kept on gridding her core against his length, slowly bouncing on his member, engulfed by the hot water.

Their pent up anxiety, frustration and love began to spill out of them, pushing them closer to the edge faster than ever. “I love you,“ both moaned at the same time, chuckling as their lips found one another.

Draco thrusted his hips upwards, meeting her wetness, burying himself even deeper, stretching her even further, making her fall right into the crashing wave of her orgasm. “Fuck so good,“ Draco moaned, releasing himself into her heat, forehead pressed against hers, hands not letting go of her skin.

“I love you,“ Draco repeated, (y/n) ran her hands through his hair. „I love you too Draco Malfoy.“

#draco malfoy #Draco Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy smut #Draco Malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy one shot #hogwarts #harry potter #Harry Potter imagine #harry potter smut #tom felton #slytherin #triwizard tournament

1K notes · View notes

chemicalpink · 3 years

Text

대취타 (DAECHWITA) | EMPEROR!YOONGI X READER | FINAL

Pairing: Emperor!Yoongi x Assassin!Reader

Words: 3.5k

Genre: Emperor AU, Historical AU (kinda), smut, angsty

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of historical public execution, oral sex (male receiving), lowkey breath play, unprotected sex

A/N: FINALLY IT’S HERE. I hope you enjoy, I had a hard time trying to make this not seem lame so here it is! please let me know what you think!

Summary: You used to be an assassin, got caught and works at the palace as a servant up until you are escorted to the main palace, either to meet your inevitable destiny or for a change of plans.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Forehead resting against your own as you found yourselves panting, him sliding out as your spasming cunt dripped with both of your releases onto the floor, placing one more soft kiss on your lips with his eyes closed “Marry me”

You almost sat up with a start. Suddenly the world was bright and hazy. Yoongi had opened his eyes and they were digging like daggers into yours, an unusual look on him. You looked at the emperor apologetically before turning your gaze to the end of the room where there was a pile of books, silently detangling yourself from him.

The silence was deafening.

Then again, who in their right mind proposed marriage while having their cock buried deep inside some assassin turned royal slave. All the same, Min Yoongi wasn’t exactly known for having a right mind. But it wasn’t just the fact that he had proposed seemingly out of the blue, more than it was everything that came with it. The words seemed to tangle themselves inside your brain as you hear him say them over and over again. That he couldn’t think of himself marrying some woman that was inferior to him in mind and spirit. That he had wanted to marry to someone he loved. To think that Min Yoongi had proposed you marriage not in the heat of the moment but fully conscious of his actions would not only mean that he was in it for the great sexual escaped you two regularly went on, but because due to some fucked up mindset the royal had, he believed he could love you.

Yoongi reached for your hand in an attempt to get your attention, face soft with post orgasmic bliss as he repeated the ill fated words “Marry me, Y/N”

You snapped out of his hold. “Yoongi I don’t think you understand the situation”

“What is it then, please do enlighten me, Y/N cause from what I understand is me asking for your hand in marriage, twice now” he blinks a few times, looking at you expectantly, crossing his arms like a petulant child

“FUCKING READ THE ROOM MIN YOONGI ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND”

“Well I’m not, but you seem to be”

“I’m a fucking assassin, my hands? they will forever be tainted red” you look down at your hands and the blond man comes near to hold both of them inside his

“Y/N I couldn’t care less about that, it’s not like I’m a saint either”

“You just don’t understand”

“Then help me out” somehow his ever consistent and aloof tone gave you more chills thana you could’ve imagined if he were to raise his voice at you “Y/N I’m serious with my proposal, the sex is amazing, but you’ve proven to be an excellent addition not only to my court, but to my life”

You are shaking, voice trembling and just above a mere whisper “I was the one that killed your mother on that freezing December night”

He freezes in place.

He seemed oddly composed for someone who had just been told the responsible of his mother's death was none other than the woman he thought he wanted to marry

You remember how a few years ago, he had gone on a killing rampage, exposing heads outside his palace as if they were homemade decorations, swearing to find the person responsible for his mother’s death and get revenge. It had been months of bloodbath. Some had considered the emperor’s son to have gone completely out of his mind.

You storm off. Not before accepting the responsibility of your actions, perhaps Yoongi had also been a good addition to your life “I’m fine with you deciding to execute me for my crimes, I understand whatever sentence is best fitted for me, your majesty” for the first time since you had arrived at the palace, you don’t dare to look him in the ye, opting to follow court protocol and bow deeply before taking your leave, attempting to detangle yourself from your messed up robes and even more messed up string of thoughts.

The following days to that conversation were a blur and for the most part, uneventful, the emperor had opted not to gravitate your way unless strictly necessary, oddly enough, the air wasn’t awkward at all, it was as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you in the first place. Yoongi had retreated to being an aloof ruler, along with regular trips to meet his once very occupied and spoiled rotten concubines, all the while you were kept apart from. Sometimes, you would receive jobs outside the palace and were expected to fulfill them according to instructions. More times than not, you were left wondering if you would make it back to the palace or if it was one hell of an excuse to execute you.

Hearing approaching footsteps, you couldn’t help but hide the best that you could behind one of the hostel’s walls. Hooded and well muffled with the cape, as you did your best to camouflage yourself into the shadows and become a mere wisp of darkness. A maid from the hostel trudged to the open window and closed it, grumbling. Lightning illuminated the landing. You took a deep breath and reviewed the plans that you had so painstakingly memorized throughout the three days you had been guarding that building on the outskirts of the kingdom. Five doors on each side. The target’s bedroom was behind the third one on the left.

Stealthy as a specter, you walked down the landing. You pushed the target's bedroom door, which opened with an almost imperceptible squeak; waiting for another thunder to rumble to close it carefully. A second flash of lightning illuminated the two figures sleeping on the canopy bed. Young Hee must not have been over thirty-five. His son, small and beautiful, slept soundly in his arms.

“I’m not murdering a poor kid’s mother”

“So you’ve gone soft”

“No I haven’t gone soft” “What could a poor merchant woman have done to you for her to deserve such an end to her life”

He sits down on his throne “You didn’t even hesitate when killing my mother, though”

“Yoongi I-” he turns his head to you, a sharp gaze following your every move, as if he was a predator waiting for the precise moment his prey took a wrong turn to jump on them. You turn your gaze to the floor immediately “Your Majesty”

“Listen Y/N- I’m a very busy man, so I’ll make it easier for you” he stood up from where he was sitting, and although you weren’t looking directly at him, you could hear him move around the room until you were able to see him stop right in front of you, a hand you were so familiar with once caresses your cheek as he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him face to face “It’s either her life, or your life. Easy choice, Y/N”

You can feel your heart wanting to burst out of your ribcage at that exact moment, finally understanding the importance behind such a horrifying task, the mirroring in the situation. And the choice was as simple as it could get. “Kill me instead”

You could see the rage inside his eyes, even as he stood still for a few second, steady as ever, unfaltering as he called over one of the palace’s servants to get him the royal seal, the infamous red ink that decorated the skin of those in line to be executed by the royal himself, an utmost sign of rage, of personally wronging the monarch. A sense of longing crossed his gaze for half a second as he locked eyes with you before he took your wrist in his hand and stamped the cold ink on it; you couldn’t keep your body from reacting to the action, whether it was having him touching you again, the almost imperceptible stuttering of his movements when he did so, or the knowledge that you’d have to face an execution, making you shake lightly as adrenaline filled your veins.

Preparations were something the emperor certainly didn’t scattered in, back when he became known as the cold hearted borderline psychopath he had a vaste fame of, ikt was mostly do to the whole antiques that surrounded his personal executions, the way that they seemed to mimic a kingdom’s festivity was almost breathtaking, were it not for the fact that the main entertainment of the day would be having you publicly executed. You had been waiting for that night for a whole week. Sitting in the wooden corridor nestled to one side of the golden dome of Min Yoongi’s personal library, remembering how the last time you had been there, things were so different from how they were now, where the emperor had asked you to marry you in the worst way possible and you had confessed the greatest murder of the dynasty; you let yourself be carried away by the music that rose through the amphitheater. With your legs dangling under the railing, you leaned forward and rested your cheek on your crossed arms. One could almost swear the palace was preparing for a wedding, if the way you were constantly dressed up and down during the week, the way the palace’s servants were constantly bustling around the building to ensure the greatest quality for the evening, the greatest night for the kingdom. The execution of the Empress’ murderer.

“You seem oddly calm for someone who's about to be executed” Jungkook mentions as he approaches where you were currently hanging out, a few minutes to spare before a small group of designated maids were to call you to get you ready for the night.

You look up at him tiredly, without separating your head from where it was laying, catching him taking a seat by your side in the most infantile way you had ever seen the royal guard do, shrugging to no one in particular, you add “You know, accountability and stuff”

“Oh and she grew a moral compass during her time here” if he was expecting a bickering comeback, the way you used to do back when he was designated to look after you, he was certainly not getting anything other than be met by an extended silence that seemed to rise the tension and seriousness of the whole interaction between the two “Why are you letting this happen to you?”

“What are you talking about” this time, you do turn to face him, confused as to where he was expecting the conversation to go.

“You didn’t kill his mother”

“I did”

He huffed out air, sounding a bit exasperated at your response; you could have even sworn you saw him roll his eyes faintly “No you didn’t, you were a mere 15 year old” there was a bit of laughter behind his sentence before he regained his composure and went back to his former self from a few minutes ago, looking at your face quizzically as if there was something hidden in there that held the answer to his question “So why are you doing this”

You try and miserably fail to convey a nonchalant look on your face as memories of your time with the emperor fill your mind, not just the carnal ones, but those where you would watch him work for his place in the royal hierarchy, the soft sides around the rough edges that were publicly hidden on purpose, turning away from the guard you say softly “Yoongi’s a great man”

“Okay sure, he could do with a more...tame temperament, but what does that have anything to do with you chopping your own head off”

You try your best to ignore the way your heart seems to physically ache at the thought behind the answer; you almost don’t get enough strength from within to mutter “I’m hoping to get him some closure, be an even better ruler”

“That’s- definitely not how it’s supposed to work Y/N” Jungkook says incredulously

“I was technically part of the killing so, it’s all the same”

He huffs before going to stand up, dusting off his uniform and already facing away from you, before you can hear him call for you one last time “Yoongi’s in his room, you know, he was looking for you a few hours ago, in case that information helps in any way”

So perhaps you were naive for thinking that he would answer his door, he would have no reason to do so, especially given the circumstances, if it were you, opening the door to the person that had confessed of murdering your mother, and having them come up at your room, you wouldn’t even need to think it once to decide not to further interact with them, but Jungkook had said Yoongi had been looking for you before, so the chance of him wanting to see you alive one last time were there. Unless you were reading it all wrong. You turned your back on the huge wooden door you had come to know as the emperor’s bedroom a few months back, resigned, when you heard the creaking of a door opening and a calm steady voice.

“So you’re going to just knock on my door and run away the same way you entered my life and are now leaving it forever?” his frozen tone still having an effect on your body as you turned to face him properly for the first time in what seemed like an eternity “Came to discuss a bargain for your life?”

“Not at all” you lock eyes with him when approaching him, until you were practically inside the room, his judgemental gaze still on you “I wanted to say my goodbyes properly, your majesty”

“Then don’t waste my time and come in already, Y/N”

The royal wasted no time in cornering you against the door, face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin, the tip of his nose nuzzling the side of your face and you knew him enough to know he had his eyes closed to keep his composure as he talked “I’m going to miss you like a fucking mad man”

It felt like falling back into routine, the way he kissed you, down to your neck up to your collarbone, pushing past the robes that covered your skin, in preparation for the ritual, his hands roaming freely in a familiar way, grabbing all the right places as he draws little sounds from your throat, all while he worked the both of you to where his bed was placed, although he was giving your body and pleasure a decent amount of attention, you couldn’t brush off the fact that he irradiated an angry aura, words left unspoken as he got his anger out by pleasuring both of you. Maybe himself more than you, as he removes himself from caressing your body as he usually did and positioned himself above you, his member laying flat on your already expecting tongue,as soon as you realised what his intentions were when he started undressing himself, his hips thrusting a few times in an experimental manner, soon enough finding a pace at the same time as you bobbed your head up to capture as much of his length as you could inside your mouth, your hands captured under Yoongi’s weight, unable to help you work him further, the way you’d done before.

You feel him start to thrust further into your throat at one particular kitten lick of yours to the tip of his cock, your head starting to hang from the edge of the mattress you two were on as he picked up the pace, his cock filling you up all the way until it hit the back of your throat a few times, you trying to whine around him, only further encouraging him to take a handful of your hair and push you further against him, your gag reflex taking the best of you as he held you there, nose close to his navel, deep grunts ripped from his lips, the air leaving your lungs and becoming slightly light headed after a few seconds of you tapping his thigh in a motion to let him know to let you breathe, at which Yoongi locked eyes with you, a mix of anger and longing in his yes as he thrusts a few more times as saliva started dripping from your mouth, tears decorating your pink stained cheeks before he removed himself from you, giving you a few seconds to gain air before he repositioned both of you. A deafening silence taking over both of you, as you were still catching your breath and he positioned his cock at your entrance, his tip, wet with your saliva, playing with your folds for a few seconds, as you take a sharp intake of air when he enters you and immediately sets a slow deep pace. You can feel his member filling you up perfectly, mind racing with flashbacks to all those other nights before where the emperor and you shared endless nights all over the palace.

The knowledge that this would be the last time creeping up in the back of your mind. You feel an unfamiliar wetness hit your neck where Yoongi was kissing your skin, rolling down as you identified it as tears, as he was still passionately thrusting into you.

“I don’t want to lose you” his voice barely above a whisper, trying to conceal the way his chest was tightened with sadness

“You have to let me go, Yoongi” one of your hands comes up to caress his locks as he pushes up to stare at your face, anger long gone and replaced with utter sadness before one last thrust has him filling you up with his seed, warmth enveloping you, a soft whimper leaving your lips as his cock leaves your cunt, a briskly wind coming from the window causing your body to shiver for a second at the loss of body heat on top of you.

“I guess this was it then” his cold and unnerved facade was on again, making the cold shivers in your body that much worse as you watched him adjust his clothes and walk out of the room, leaving you to dress yourself and ultimately face your fated destiny at the end of the day.

The palace’s front plaza is filled to the brim with spectators as the news got out that the Emperor was finally getting revenge for his mother’s killing, people from the kingdom and even some people from neighbouring ones all lined up in the outer sides of the fire marks that decorated the space to illuminate the middle path where you were placed in the end of it to walk your way up, two unknown guards on each side of you as each grabbed your elbows to push you forward, the rope certainly leaving marks on your skin as it was wrapped tightly around your wrists.

You could only catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s blond hair, wrapped in his infamous black and golden hanbok, drums roaring in unison, people screaming as you watched him take the sword from the swordsman that had prepared the ritual beforehand, as someone wrapped a cloth around your eyes and you were promptly pushed forward, legs buckling every few seconds as you came to realise what you were about to face, it hadn’t been clear before, mere seconds away, finally falling to your knees, head bowed down in resignation as you could barely hear the sharp sword cutting the air around you, gasps from the crowd filling the air along with the constant sound of the drums around you. You could only hope your death would bring much needed peace to the monarch and his kingdom. Your heart seemed to want to burst out of your chest, if anything, Yoongi was known for being an espectacular swordsman, which hopefully made the whole execution that much easier. You could hear cheers and a metal cutting the air before your body fell limp to the ground.

But your consciousness never left, the drums couldn’t be heard anymore, cheers were replaced with confusion as a pair of hands helped you up to your knees, fumbling with the cloth around your eyes to come face to face with Min Yoongi kneeling before you, a subtle smile on his face as one of his hands caressed your cheek before helping you up beside him.

“I’m sure you all must be confused right now” he announced to his subjects “This woman right here, has got more courage in her than anyone that has ever worked for me, any of us, for that matter. Which is why I’m asking once again, publicly, for the first time, for her hand in marriage” he turned to face you, as you were still dazed by the whole ordeal, his hand in yours being the only thing holding you down “Marry me, Y/N”

#kwritersworldnet #thebtswritersclub #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #bangtanuniversity #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts imagines #min yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #bts fanfics #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi scenario #bts scenarios

254 notes · View notes

heartensoul · 2 years

Text

[Fic Preview] Both War & Woman (KakaSaku)

A preview for one of the later sections in BW&W. KakaSaku, PG

Kakashi woke to light footfalls against his floor, and peered into the hallway to see Sakura’s familiar silhouette moving toward him.

“Sakura?” He murmured to alert her that he was awake, though as she continued to move toward him he realized she wasn’t concerned about waking him. She stepped to the couch and then her small but powerful hands were reaching out to him as she leaned forward.

“Are you alright?” He prompted, wondering if nightmares had woken her. She seemed more alert than earlier.

“Kakashi,” she rasped as she grasped his bicep and tugged to encourage him into movement. “Come to bed.”

He sat up, careful not to displace her grasp on his arm in case she needed the contact to ground her. “I’ll come sit with you until you fall back asleep,” he offered carefully.

She shook her head. “Come to bed.”

“Sakura, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” He hedged. It had taken them almost a year after that fight about his extension to melt the tension between them and become friends, and he cherished that friendship: it was more than he deserved.

“Please,” she pressed, and the vulnerability in her eyes easily captured him. He hadn’t wanted to protest to begin with—not really.

“All right,” he agreed, then let her slip her soft palm into his calloused one and led him into his bedroom. His chest began to ache with every step, his longing for her amplified in the intimacy of this space they used to share their most private and happiest moments, though it was also the same space where he let her walk away.

Once in the bedroom, Sakura crawled across the bed to the far side—her side, always—and situated herself under the covers so only her forehead and top of her head peeked out. The scene was so familiar to him, as though the four years of this empty bed no longer existed, and he had to take a slow breath before pulling back the covers to join her.

Without another word, she scooted toward him and he kept his hands to himself as she nestled herself against him. The tension in her body began to bleed away, and the natural fragrance of her hair settled his racing heart into calm. Their bodies, it seemed, still remembered the peace found in each other’s presence.

He thought she might fall asleep like that, her cheek pressed against his ribcage as though she needed to get as close to his heartbeat as possible. But eventually she turned and moved his arms so they were curled around her body, his hand encased in her smaller one and pressed against the space between her breasts. She curled the fingers of her other hand around his wrist, her fingertips gently pressing against the pulse point she found there. Overwhelmed with feeling, he pressed himself against her back and brushed his nose against the nape of her neck until each of his angles found their old homes against her softness and both of them found rest into the familiarity of their former sleeping position.

He listened in the darkness as her breathing deepened into sleep. He was glad something as simple as his heart beating could offer her comfort, while also grateful she couldn’t sense how much it still ached for her.

#kakasaku #kakashi/sakura #fic preview #heartensoul writings #fic: both war and woman

12 notes · View notes

passivenovember · 3 years

Text

mama said to smile while I still have teeth.

(or) Post Starcourt, a very different Billy Hargrove gets his wisdom teeth removed.

In a moment of weakness and textbook junior year assholery, Steve gets his stomach ripped out and fed to him for suggesting that Billy could take the bus.

And it’s not without reason.

Hopper and Joyce have work. And Robin would ask too many questions--why the shaved head, why the ratty black hoodie and sweatpants, why the perpetual vow of silence--and the only one of the kids that has their permit is Dustin.

But Max behaves as if none of that matters. Looks at Steve as if he set the house on fire himself.

“Or you could take him.” She sneers. Like that’s somehow a good idea. “You have a car.”

“Billy wouldn’t get in a car with me even if you paid him.”

Steve doesn’t say he’d rather face a barrel of Demodogs one handed than be left alone with Billy. Would rather lick black slime off his own dick than feel those silent, cool blue eyes pouring like ice water down the ridges of his skin.

Steve wants to say it. Doesn’t. When Max starts crying. “His legs don’t work as good anymore.”

“Billy gave me a concussion.”

“He’s got gas money.” She says, voice winding tight with desperation.

And Steve despises the painful, weeping grip of her fingers when they close around his forearm. Hates that she cares so much for someone who could never care for her.

“I know it’s not much.” Max swallows thickly. “I know he used to be a piece of shit, but he’s--”

“Different.” Steve says heavily, scrubbing at his forehead. “I know.”

Billy slides into the passenger seat with a thermos in one hand and a cranberry muffin in the other and Steve isn’t used to it, the way his body seems to have deflated. Limbs cut from marianette strings, hanging limp as if gravity hasn’t quite learned what to do with them.

Billy places the muffin and the thermos on the dashboard between them, and.

Steve expects something.

A thank you, which could come later. A hello, which should come now.

Billy nods at the dashboard.

Steve jots into action. “Oh. These aren’t for you?”

Billy grunts, reaching to pass the goodies over as if Steve were incapable of doing it himself. The thermos is warm in Steve’s hand. Sturdy.

“Coffee?” He asks, jerking with surprise when Billy mutters; “Hazelnut.” In a voice as soft as feather down.

Steve waits for Billy to say something else, but.

Billy doesn’t. He just turns and peers out the passenger side window, into the gentle swell of rain that’s started to fall.

“Thanks. Thank you.” Steve says. He starts the car. Lets it warm, and.

Tries not to feel like this is the first time their bodies have had to reacquaint themselves with one another.

Tries not to marvel at how beautiful silvery thin lines can be. Running from the shell of an ear and disappearing, quick, into the hood nestled around broad shoulders.

Steve rubs his hands together, tearing his eyes away. “First time at the dentist?”

And Billy doesn’t say anything.

Never says anything, anymore, but. That doesn’t stop the conversation from feeling communal. Shared.

“I got my wisdom teeth out when I was fourteen.” Steve peers through the windshield. It’s raining harder now. “Don’t remember much about the whole thing. Mom says I tried to stop the aquarium fish from drowning. And that I had to be double belted on the way home--”

“Will it hurt?” Billy turns to look at him, and. His eyes are welling up. Cheeks and nose red, as if stung by October winds.

Billy whispers, “I wanted Max to come but she had school.”

His hand is covered by the sleeve of his hoodie, fabric scrubbing rough at the stubble along his jaw. “Did they hurt you?” Billy asks, and.

Steve doesn’t like the way he says it.

Like there really is something to be afraid of, at the core of it all. Like no one has ever considered the possibility.

“It’s not so bad.” Steve’s heart gives a painful, gripping thud. “You get a free ice pack out of the deal and decent high from the silly gas, if you’re lucky.”

Billy nods. “We’re gonna be late.”

Which. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“We’ll get you there lickety-split.” Steve pulls out of the driveway, fingers gripping the wheel when Billy places the still-warm muffin in his lap.

He sticks around for the procedure just to stop Billy from looking like he’s being dropped at his first day of kindergarten. The waiting room is bright. Warm and colorful, plush couches stocked full of overstuffed pillows. All within throwing distance of machine labeled free coffee :)

Not a bad dig, all things considered, but.

Billy says Steve doesn’t have to wait around. Doesn’t even have to come back at all. The nurse calls his name and Billy stands, shoulders lined with tension, before turning to whisper, “I’ll take the bus back to Neil’s.”

And Steve knows. Gets it.

The universe running a test. An experiment that will prove whether Steve’s really got a heart under all that chest hair.

Steve lifts his Highlights magazine. “I’m good.”

“Really?”

“Dude, It’s pouring outside,” Steve says, shaking his hair out for good measure. “I’ll just wait. In case you’re too high to function.”

Billy looks like he wants to say something else, so. Steve gives his full attention. Plans on the preverbal thank you that’ll probably never come, but. The nurse calls that name again.

Billy Hargrove.

And Billy turns to go, hands tangled in the sleeves of his hoodie.

His cheeks are swollen, like.

A chipmunk.

Stuffed full of little cotton pads that could be acorns. That are acorns, Billy insists, when the nurse brings Steve back to the operation room. He’s parked on the dentist bench. Curled into a ball with a thumb in his mouth when Steve rounds the corner.

“Steve,” Billy says thickly. “They took my teeth out but I have acorns.” He reaches across the space between them, fingers grasping Steve’s wrist tightly.

Too tight, but.

Steve can’t bring himself to care when the nurse says, “Billy, take your thumb out of you mouth.”

And Billy says. “I need to suck on something cold.” He pulls Steve right up to the edge of the bench, sitting with a serious glint in his eye. “Our acorns will be good for winter, right?”

He sways, nearly falling off the leather table, so.

Steve grasps his shoulder. Puts him back in place. “Probably? I don’t think acorns go bad.”

“We gotta make sure, ‘cause I don’t want you to starve.” Billy slurs, dropping to dead weigh when the nurse gets an arm underneath him and asks Steve to get the kid on his feet.

Billy lands somewhere against Steve’s ribs, swaying dramatically as bright red drool slides over his chin.

The nurse swears under her breath, going at it with a towel.

Billy swats her hand away. He staggers as Steve thanks the nurse and leads them into the waiting room.

“You’re so pretty, Stever.” Billy reaches out again, fingertips poking Steve’s eyelid. “Can’t starve for the winter. Gotta get pretty boys their acorns--”

“Stop poking me--”

“Acorn soup.” Billy sings. “Acorn pie and casserole and lollipops covered in sugar.”

Steve manages to get the doors open with zero help from Billy, chuckling as warm, soft palms circle around his shoulder blades.

They’re hugging.

In the rain.

At the dentist’s office.

Steve hugs back, squawking when Billy’s nose brushes against his heartbeat. “C’mon, dude, we gotta--”

“Will you carry me, Stever?”

“No.” Steve says, manhandling Billy from his chest to his ribcage, determined to make it across the lot in one piece. “You’re solid muscle, there’s no way I could carry you.”

Billy makes a noise, pretty pink lips forming a pout when Steve looks over at him.

“I got all the acorns ready for winter and you can’t carry me to the car?” Billy grumbles, leaning against the side of the Beamer while Steve gets his key into the lock.

Steve untangles himself from the arms that fold around his waist. “Billy--”

“You smell like grass.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, like sweet grass.” Billy cackles, doubling over at his own joke, and. Pulling Steve down with him. “Sweet ass, right?”

“You’re insane.” Steve whispers, somehow out of breath from. The hands on his neck. He let’s Billy pet through his hair and then Steve yanks on the door handle, opening it, like, “Alright. Get in.”

Billy has more blood on his face. “Wanna sit with you.”

“We will.”

“Can I lay on your chest?”

Steve’s face hurts from smiling. “You won’t fit.”

“I could!” Billy whimpers, jerking away from Steve as he tries to get the blood off his chin. “I could be like a kitty cat--”

“Would you just--” Steve gets his hands on him, wiping at Billy’s mouth with his thumb. “Hold still, alright?”

“Alright.” Billy kisses Steve’s finger. Chaste and quick, gone before either really know what’s happening. Those blue eyes pull Steve in, drink him down. “How come you’re so pretty?” Billy asks.

And. “Dunno,” Steve says, sounding just as out of breath as he feels. Like they’ve been running laps, and.

Steve thinks maybe they have.

All around Hawkins. Through the years. Past each other.

Billy holds still under the weight of ten fingers before frowning. Sticking his little swollen lip out. “Can we go home now?”

Steve backs away, gripping the edge of the door. “Sure.”

“Not to Neil’s,” Billy mutters to himself, leaning into the leather seat when Steve gets his limbs folded into the car. He cranes his head, eyes huge and watery. “Can I hang out with you?”

Steve moves to close the door. “Sure.”

Billy stops him. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, Billy.”

“Then why are you trying to close the door?” Billy demands, peering through narrowed eyes.

Steve chuckles at that, squeezing the fingers that curl into the palm of his hand. “We gotta close the door so we can drive the car back to my house.”

Billy yanks his hand away. “Your house.” He says, as if tasting the words on his tongue.

Steve nods. “Do you want to go to my house?”

“Do you have macaroni and cheese?”

“Yeah, I can.” Steve wills himself to stop smiling. “I can make some after you take a nap.”

Billy stops the door from closing again. “I’ll be cold if I try to sleep.”

And he says it like.

No one’s ever believed him. Billy speaks with an anchor in his voice, the weight of it pulling Steve in. Forward, until he understands.

Steve grips the edge of the door.

Nods. Let’s Billy know that there are ways around it.

Billy’s crying, and. Steve doesn’t want to see him cry anymore. Every again. They’ve been through too much. He takes Billy’s hand and squeezes tight, smiling softly when cool blue eyes peer up at him.

“Then we can eat macaroni and watch T.V.--”

“We can?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “And when you’re ready to go home I’ll take you. Keep you safe.”

He moves to close the door, chucking when a firm, sure hand holds it in place.

Billy stares at him. “What if I never wanna go home again?”

Steve thinks about it, tapping his knuckles on the hood of the car. He shrugs. “Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Billy says.

This time, when the door is closed, Steve runs to the other side. Not wanting to miss a single moment.

#harrigrove #they’re getting fluff and then a shit load of angst #and then more fluff #love my babies #wisdom teeth

161 notes · View notes

taeyohonic · 3 years

Text

stolen dances | chap. 10

summary: sometimes supporting the person you love is the hardest challenge you’ll ever face.

pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

rating: m

warning: alcohol consumption (drunk people / hungover people), swear words

additional tags: f2l, ceo!jungkook, bestfriend!jungkook, shrink!yoongi, my best friend’s wedding meets 27 dresses (if the boss/secretary couple had happened), angst-y

words: 2100

links: prev. | next [masterlist]

note: lower case letters intended

chapter summary: jimin is team jungkook... whatever that means

“fuck”, jungkook hisses in your ears as the sizzling pan burns his hand. even years after their final performance, seokjin still inhabits the second nature of being the leader. he moves swiftly around the table to check on jungkook, who stays in his position. his breath is hot on your neck as you try to kill yoongi with your stare. with caution you touch jungkook’s burned hand, but the singer won’t let your fingers rest on his before he withdraws himself from you. jimin looks at the scene in front of him with distaste while the oldest coos at jungkook.

“let me be, hyung.”

“you’re hurt, kookie. we have to ice it”, seokjin insists and you pry your eyes away from your therapist to turn around, only to find jungkook watching you intensely.

“_____ knows where the ice is.” yeah, every single one of his friends knows where the freezer is. it’s essential for margarita wednesday. but you don’t dare to voice that – not when even the loudmouthed taehyung is keeping quiet.

“come on, kook”, you say softly and stand up, the delicious chicken completely forgotten.

there is the faint sound of yoongi’s apology in your ears as you move closer to the kitchen, jungkook like a cloak following behind you.

“how bad is the pain?”, you ask and collect an icepack, looking more at the granite worktop in jungkook’s spotless kitchen than your best friend.

“____, look at me”, he orders roughly. instead of taking the ice from you, he waits.

after a second too long, you face him. his eyes are hot on your skin and you feel yourself shrink inch by inch.

“you sang for him?”

“i… no – i just helped him out”, you explain. “yoongi needed the track for his audition and … he really tried other options – you, you know how terrible my voice is. but the label demanded the tape – we didn’t have time.”

you don’t know why an apology is nestled on your lips; there is nothing to be sorry for. jungkook disagrees.

“you sang for him”, he repeats, not in question, but as an accusation.

“what’s the big deal?”, you whisper and press the icepack onto his hand. for a split-second you think he’ll push you back and throw the cooling aid across the room. but your best friend does the complete opposite, taking a step closer to you. you feel his chest heaving as the space between the two of you grows smaller and smaller.

there are a lot of reasons why you love jungkook. one of them is that you are oh so attracted to him.

your heart kindly reminds you of that fact by beating heavily against your ribcage. you can smell his skin and see the tiniest scar his brother gave him when he was a toddler. this is not good.

“you won’t even sing karaoke with me, but you’ll sing for him?”, he asks and grips your hand to push it onto his burn. he hisses in pain but does not stop the pressure.

“you’re all famous singers, jungkook… i.. i don’t wanne embarrass myself in front of you”, you answer. he only huffs.

“____, you puked on me.”

“the rollercoaster was too fast – even jimin said that.”

“you had diarrhea during our last road trip.”

“nobody noticed that.” his eyes widen in disbelieve at your claim.

“i massaged your stomach the whole night to get the cramps to stop. everybody noticed, ____.”

“i don’t know what you want to achieve with this, jungkook”, you whine and try not to notice how delicious his collarbone looks under the kitchen lights.

“___”, he starts, “you can’t embarrass yourself in front of me.”

your eyes are still set on his collarbone and he breathes, clearly annoyed.

“there is no shame in this friendship, ___”, jungkook states with finality in his voice. you do not dare to meet his eyes, after the word ‘friendship’ burns itself onto your mind.

“music is half of who i am”, he continues, “i’d love to share it with my best friend.”

“okay”

your answer is met with a soft smile you do not see.

“okay”, he repeats and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

he steps away from you a moment later and now, his skin out of reach, you look at his face. his eyes are kind on you.

“let’s see if they left some chicken”, you say and before jungkook can respond, you’ve left the kitchen and your beating heart behind.

“where is all the chicken?”, you exclaim as you join the boys again. jimin’s faint blush is overshadowed by taehyung’s snicker.

“we were only gone for a second, hyungs!”, jungkook adds and helps you by adjusting your chair after you take your seat across from a full-mouthed yoongi.

“there is enough pasta for you to not go hungry”, seokjin answers and passes on the sauce to your best friend, who coats his spaghetti with the citrusy sauce, muttering to himself.

“so, you’ll help with the remix?”, taehyung asks yoongi, clearly done with your complaints.

yoongi looks at jungkook instead of taehyung as he replies.

“yeah, joon and i have been drabbling for a few days.” they have?

“maybe you can bring your demo next week to movie night?”, taehyung questions next.

“next movie night?”, yonngi repeats with furrowed eyebrows matching jungkook’s expression.

“or you can bring it by the office to my meeting with namjoon?”, seokjin offers. sorry, what?

“joon called you already?”, you ask. you distinctly remember the business card you’ve given your favorite barista at the restaurant. but you never imagined him to act this fast. even yoongi seems surprised.

“i like his voice”, seokjin nods at you and continues to eat his last chicken piece.

“but not as much as mine, right?”, jimin whines only to get slapped by the youngest.

your friends are really, really spoiled, you think with a smile and nudge yoongi’s foot under the table.

you hate how heavy your eyes feel while you blink at jungkook.

“you sure you don’t want to have a sleepover?”, he whispers as he helps you into your jacket. scratch that, your arms are heavier than your eyelids. your whine reminds him more of a kitten than a human and he smiles at you.

“nooo, i just… i-i wanne have my special pillow. and my socks.”

“okay, okay, okay – honey – don’t need any tears in this hallway”, seokjin hushes before hugging you. “drink lots of water, understood?”, he asks and lets you go. you nod silently and smile at him. even that is a task.

jungkook looks at the both of you and can’t help his chuckles at your big eyes in front of seokjin’s wide shoulders. it’s just… too cute.

“thanks for the invite.” yoongi pulls the host back to reality and jungkook nods at him with a fake smile.

“sure”, he says. now that you are half-away in dreamland, he doesn’t have to pretend to like your friend. he just wants him out of his house and your life. it physically pains jungkook to let you go together. how special can your at-home-pillow really be?

even in your state you notice how jimin sidesteps yoongi’s hand and how fast taehyung opens the door to lead your therapist out in the hallway. jimin pushes seokjin aside to say goodbye to you, huffing into your hairline as you squeeze him half-heartedly back. his behavior towards yoongi makes you dislike him more than you care to admit.

your friend bows to the boys before moving to the hallway. there is just taehyung between you and the exit now. jimin passes you off to the troublemaker, but not without some clouded thunder in his eyes. embraced by taehyung, you whisper: “what’s up with jimin?”

the former singer knows that eyes and ears are on you – they always are when you’re with them – so he presses his lips close to your ear before answering.

“he’s always been team jungkook.”

it takes you six hours of sleep, two coffees and one aspirin before his words reach your brain the next morning.

you to troublemaker: what’s team jungkook?

your message to taehyung goes unanswered. it makes you mad and you do not like being ignored. after crafting the whole day with your kids in pottery class, you make your way out of the school. you try to repress memories of the awkward lunch with jisoo, not ready to face the reality that she made jungkook uncomfortable, and the alcohol still makes your steps more sluggish than graceful.

jungkook’s mercedes in front of the building comes as a surprise.

“surprise!”, he exclaims and opens the car door for you.

“what are you doing here?”, you ask, too drained to be more forthcoming. the former idol smiles behind his sunglasses.

“surprising my very chipper, sunshine-y best friend.” jungkook sounds so excited that you can feel your lips – and mood – lifting by the second.

“and what’s the surprise?” other than your very busy ceo taking the afternoon off to give you a ride instead of letting you take the crowded train home.

“i wanted to take you to the park!” he points to the basket hidden in his car and your cheeks flush while looking at his long, long finger.

“come ooon”, jungkook tries to shush you into the seat, not ready for some of the pedestrians to notice the famous man. maybe he shouldn’t flash his gucci sunglasses.

“okay, okay, kookie, okay”, you relent and squeeze his shoulder before getting into the mercedes.

it only takes him seconds and then he’s in the driver’s seat, smiling happily at you.

“how was pottery?”, he asks and speeds out into the traffic. you’ve sent him some of your students’ creations from today during lunch, trying to escape jisoo’s eyes – they’d been so proud. you haven’t shown him yours.

“my mug looks so ugly”, you mutter, only to hear a huff from jungkook.

“no way – your designs are unique… never ugly.”

at the next red light, you flash him a picture of your grotesque creation. he is silent until the lights change to green. eyes on the road, jungkook tries to soothe you.

“practice makes perfect, ___.” you only snort.

“yeah well… i think we’ll focus more on learning tomorrow. minimal creativity. maximal brains.”

there is a comfortable silence in the car – but not for long.

“how was your day?”, you ask and turn your upper body to the driver so you’re more focused on his hands gripping the steering wheel.

jungkook sighs before responding. “the board doesn’t like our promotion strategy for europe. so, we’ll have to revise the concept. sales are good – the finance department had a boner for their whole thirty minutes presentation, calculating how much money we’ll make this quarter.”

he takes a turn and you can already see the green from the park.

“had lunch with jin and went for a mini workout after that.”

jungkook parks the car in one swift motion and you have to suppress the moan at his controlled handling of the wheel. he doesn’t even look bothered by the vehicles waiting for him to maneuver into the tight space. after he turns off the engine, your best friend faces you fully.

“and i googled a bit”, he admits. it’s a random fact, making you conscious of its deeper meaning.

“during your lunch with jin?”, you ask. “or while doing squats?”

“during the finance presentation – it was so boring, ____”, he groans and falls forward onto your shoulder.

“and what did you google?”, you ask and press his earlobe between your fingertips. you can still feel the numerous holes from his idol days. it’s a shame he doesn’t wear earrings anymore.

“you know…”, jungkook starts softly, “i wondered – at the restaurant, with namjoon.” his forehead is still resting on you, so he easily notices your stiffened body.

“i would have kind of believed it if you met him first. you drink way too much coffee. he’s a barista.” jungkook’s explanation is hushed against your skin.

“but you met yoongi first, _____.”

“yeah”, you admit quietly.

“min yoongi’s practice has a website, ____.”

“yeah”

“min yoongi is a licensed therapist, ____.”

there is a beat of silence as he waits for you to decide how open you want to be with your best friend… and yourself.

“he is my licensed therapist, jungkook.”

_____

sorry for the late update. hope you are all healthy! love, dana

p.s. this had a whole lot of “uhhh she went to therapy” vibe. therapy is cool, i only survived because i went to see a therapist. jungkook thinks so too; don’t let the last scene fool you. so… we’ll have the park “outing” next and after that… all goes down the drain. I promise.

taglist: @livewittykid @thequeen-kat @kagami-s-void @goldenclosethobi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @jinsalpaca @bishuthot @laabellaavitaa21 @baekstans @jalexad @jinsearthh @kseokwu

#btswriterscollective #bangtanuniversity #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ceo!jungkook #idol!jungkook #bts x reader #bts x you #bts angst #jeon jungkook

267 notes · View notes