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libraryofgage · 4 months

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Addams Family B-Side (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

Did I already post today? Yes. Did I also post two chapters of Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins today? Yes. I am just incredibly productive today, who knows when it's gonna happen again lol

Anyway, finally! The next B-Side! This bitch has been stewing my guys, so I hope you enjoy it lol

There are two memes at the very end of this one, so definitely stick around

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't 😘

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For four weeks, Eddie feels himself losing his mind. He finds gifts in his locker every other day, and he's convinced they're from Steve Harrington. He now has a taxidermied bat, a fancy-looking vial with a skull and crossbones embossed in the glass and filled with mysterious liquid, an actual human skull that Eddie immediately incorporates into his next campaign, and a spider. An actual spider. A live spider that, after a little research, he learns is a fucking Black Widow that seems unnaturally friendly.

Eddie can't stress that part enough. Multiple people have mistaken the spider for an intricate vest patch because it just sits perfectly still over his chest pocket. It only moves to rub its head against Eddie's fingers whenever his hand passes over it, and even then it's careful to avoid hurting him with its pincers.

He names her Nox.

Those aren't the only gifts he's received, but they're the most notable, and Eddie is overwhelmed and flustered by the positive attention he's suddenly receiving.

The other thing driving him crazy is Pubert Addams, a guy Eddie had never paid much attention to before but now considers his mortal enemy. He's convinced Pubert is, at worst, potentially abusive or, at best, delusional and taking advantage of Steve's kindness and inability to brutally turn him down. Or maybe Eddie is the crazy one; he doesn't actually know. Whichever it is, Eddie is ready to take the very nice dagger he now has (gift number 15; yes, Eddie has been counting) and stab him with it.

Because he can't get more than two minutes alone with Steve before Pubert appears out of nowhere. Eddie runs into Steve in the hall while everyone else is in class? Pubert shows up with a hall pass two seconds later and literally waltzes Steve away from him. Eddie finds Steve camped out in the library during study hall? Pubert materializes in the chair next to Steve before Eddie can sit down, leaning far too close as he asks Steve to explain something from their shared Gothic Literature class. Eddie, by some miracle, is behind Steve in the lunch line (and he calls this a miracle because Steve always brings his lunch in a pink box with black skulls, which Eddie considers incredibly brave of him to carry around like it's nothing)? Before Eddie can do more than say hi and get a blinding smile in return, Pubert fucking Addams shows up and drags Steve away while promising to share his lunch.

Eddie is just about to lose the last shred of patience he's struggling to maintain when Steve finds him. Ironically, it's the same bathroom where they first talked, the one with mysterious mold growing in the corner that Eddie is convinced is some new species. It's the only bathroom with a busted smoke detector, and Eddie goes there to get high during his free period.

He's halfway through a joint, smoke curling around him as he sits on the sink counter and tries not to think about what else has been there, when the door swings open, Steve walks in, and Eddie chokes on his inhale.

"Don't die like this," Steve says, stepping closer and patting Eddie's back like they know each other, "It's no fun."

Eddie finally gets himself under control, taking a deep breath and wincing at the way his lungs burn. "No worries," he croaks out, regretting the departure of Steve's hand on his back. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you plan to use this bathroom."

"As curious as I am about the bacteria teeming on these toilet seats, no." Steve sounds genuine, like he really does want to swab the toilet seats and see what grows. Instead, he places his bag on the sink and pulls out a familiar vial with a familiar skull and crossbones. "I just came to drink."

"Oh?" Eddie says, leaning forward with a grin. He looks Steve up and down, taking in the pale blue sweater vest and immaculately pressed jeans. "You don't look the drinking type, Stevie."

Steve hums, popping the cork out of the vial and taking a swig from it. "This isn't exactly hard stuff," he says after he swallows, distracted enough that Eddie thinks he misses his eyes lingering on Steve's throat as it bobs.

"Just beer then?"

"What?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie like he's delusional. "No, it's cyanide and vinegar."

He says it with such conviction that Eddie believes him despite knowing cyanide is poison. "Metal," he says, looking away to take another drag of his joint as he struggles to break through his own awkwardness and hold a conversation that will somehow sweep Steve off his feet and make him forget all about Pubert Addams.

Before he can think of something clever and smooth and funny, Steve leans close and raises a hand to his chest. Eddie is about to warn him that Nox is, in fact, real when the spider scuttles onto Steve's fingers and settles in his palm. She does a little up-and-down motion, circles in his hand twice, and rubs her head against his wrist. "You've been taking good care of her," Steve says.

"Uh, yeah. How is she not biting you right now?" Eddie asks, remembering all the times Nox has warningly snapped at others who tried to touch her.

Steve snorts and allows Nox to return to her spot on Eddie's vest. "I raised her," he says, his tone casual like he isn't admitting to showering Eddie with inexplicable gifts for the past four weeks, "of course, she won't bite me."

"So, it has been you," Eddie replies, wanting to hear it from Steve himself.

With a soft hum, Steve takes another sip from his bottle. "Who else would it have been?"

Eddie licks his lips, takes another drag of his joint to brace himself, and hops off the counter. "So, uh, does that mean you li--"

Before the rest of the question can be asked, the bathroom door swings open again, and Eddie feels his eye twitch as Pubert Addams frowns at them. "So, this is where you were," he says, walking over to Steve and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I told you I was going to the bathroom," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he stuffs the vial back into his bag.

Pubert looks Eddie over, a derisive huff escaping him as he dismisses Eddie and looks at Steve. "On the other side of the school? Really?" he asks, and Eddie would be overthinking what that means if he weren't sure his veins were about to burst.

"We were talking, you know," Eddie says, gaining Pubert's attention again. Steve looks at him, too, his eyes a little brighter.

"I'm sure," Pubert replies, rolling his eyes as he takes Steve's bag. "And now we're leaving." With that, he leads Steve out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut before Steve can do more than smile apologetically and wave.

Anger surges through Eddie, and the shaky drag he takes to finish off his joint does absolutely nothing to soothe it.

He's going to kill Pubert Addams.

--------

Funnily enough, Steve's mother doesn't learn about his crush until he's five weeks into it. When Debbie finally does discover the crush, it's because she walks in on Fester and Steve decorating homemade cookies shaped like anatomically correct hearts. She pauses in the doorway, looking between the two covered in flour and raspberry jam, and asks, "What on earth is going on here?"

Steve looks up, sees this as his chance to finally tell Debbie, and smiles brightly at her. "I'm in love, Mother. He's allergic to raspberry, and Father agreed to help me make him cookies with raspberry filling, so he can feel the same breathlessness I do when I see him," he explains, using his thumb to wipe raspberry jam off his cheek.

Debbie stares at him for a few seconds before looking at Fester. "How long have you known?" she asks.

"Five weeks," Fester admits, looking apologetic. "I wanted to tell you, Pumpkin! But Steve asked me not to so he could tell you himself."

She sighs and walks over to the island, sitting on the edge of a stool and taking one of the cookies for herself. She bites off a pulmonary vein, looking thoughtful as she chews. "I must admit, these are damn good cookies," she finally says, taking one more bite before passing it to Fester to finish. "Tell me about him."

And Steve does. He gushes about Eddie for a solid hour without taking a single breath, spilling everything he's seen Eddie do and how he's reacted to all of Steve's gifts and how he gets so obviously jealous when Pubert butts into their conversations. He tells Debbie about Eddie not screaming when he saw Nox, about him selling drugs, and about his interest in music. Steve laments his hair but eagerly describes the treatment routine he already has in mind.

By the time he's done, the cookies are decorated and his mother's expression has grown a little pained. "Steve, darling, come with me," she says, getting up from the chair and leading him out of the kitchen while Fester starts to clean up.

Steve waits until Debbie has brought him to her spare room to ask, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, did you remember my rules about crushes?"

"Yeah. I've talked to him a lot."

Debbie smiles and brings Steve over to the bed, sitting him down and straightening his hair before perching next to him. "Then, you're not in trouble, but you've been going about this all wrong, dear."

"Should I tell Pubert to stop making Eddie jealous?"

"Absolutely not," Debbie says, shaking her head firmly. "In fact, he could try harder. Nothing gets to a man like someone he can't have, especially if he thinks they're in distress."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly as he tries to figure out where, exactly, he's gone wrong. Eddie seems perfectly enamored with him, after all, and Pubert's goading is encouraging his affections, which is the only reason Steve has allowed it to continue. "Did I give him a live spider too soon?" Steve asks, figuring that's the problem here.

"No, that's not...," Debbie trails off, mutters something about Fester being an idiot, and clears her throat. "Steve, your father is the last person you should approach for love advice."

"But...you agreed to marry him, so he must have done something right," Steve says.

Debbie barks a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "I married your father for his money. I attempted to kill his entire family and only stopped when he promised to give me everything I asked for. I would hardly call him a casanova."

Steve nods along, smiling a little as she speaks. He's heard their great love affair many times, but he doesn't get tired of it. "But you actually love him anyway, right? Father says it's because he showered you with gifts. So, that's what I'm doing."

"I...do love your father," Debbie admits, sighing as though she doesn't know how that happened either. "But it's less because of his gifts and more because...he gave me the devotion I wanted. Anyway, if you learn anything from us, it should be that love comes second."

"What comes first?"

Debbie smiles, the expression positively devious, and Steve can't help returning it. "Obsession," she says, her shoulders rolling back some as pride fills her. "Occupy his every waking thought. Make yourself irresistible. Make him dream of you at night. Overwhelm him with desire until he simply must act on it."

"Oh," Steve says, thinking of how his father acts around Debbie and realizing that obsession never quite went away. But it's worked out well for them, and he knows his mother has experience with luring men into her arms. He nods once and asks, "So, what should I do?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Debbie says, her smile bright and her eyes filled with excitement. "You'll have Eddie falling to his knees before you in no time."

--------

Eddie didn't think it could get worse. He was already attracted to Steve, already distracted by every little movement.

He was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Because here he is, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty and his cheeks warm because of Steve. He's not even doing anything. Well, that's not true. Steve is curling his tongue around a lollipop before sucking it into his mouth like he'll die without it. But it's more than that. It's the painted-on jeans that hug his legs; it's the pastel pink hoodie (with little bats on the cuffs) that rides up whenever Steve moves to show off a strip of skin just above his waistband; it's the way he finishes the lollipop and pulls out lipgloss, casually telling Pubert it's raspberry flavored as he puts it on.

Eddie swallows around the dryness in his mouth, gripping his locker door so tight that his knuckles turn white as he looks inside it. Sitting innocently on top of everything is a Tupperware container of cookies with raspberry filling (according to the label), and Eddie is ready to eat one just so he can die knowing what Steve's lips taste like.

That's not even the worst of it. The worst is that Steve transfers into Eddie's Music Theory class, smiling innocently while the teacher introduces him and then directs him to sit at the empty desk next to Eddie. When he's close, Eddie realizes Steve smells like cookies and cream ice cream, and he's tempted to ask if Steve smells like his favorite flavor on purpose.

The teacher saves him from the embarrassment of blurting out the question by announcing a project. The teacher then dooms him by telling everyone they're required to work with their desk neighbor. Eddie grips his pen tightly when the teacher tells them to spend the rest of their class time discussing the project.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention. When he looks over, Steve is leaning forward on his desk, chin propped in his hand as he looks at Eddie. "Want to come over to my place after school? To work on the project, I mean."

Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds, his tongue stuck in his throat. To his credit, Steve doesn't say anything or call Eddie out for staring at him. He just waits patiently with a little smile curling his lips. Eddie finally clears his throat, his voice coming out a little strained when he says, "Yeah, sure, sounds good. After school. Your place. Project."

Smooth. Real smooth.

When Steve just smiles wider and stretches his arms above his head, pulling his hoodie up, while suggesting they do the project on the evolution of heavy metal music, Eddie realizes he's probably going to die after school.

He can't wait.

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Tag List (I think there's still room for a few more people ^_^)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

And, finally, a two-for-one meme special because I couldn't decide which was funnier:

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b side #addams! steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #pubert addams #fester addams #debbie jellinsky #steve deserves good parents actually #my writing #sorry it's been so long the inspiration took a while to hit for this one hfdjks

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 months

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Ermermerm soooo… can u plz do a lil fic where like, reader is a hardworking person and is like working a 9 to 5 job or wtv and one day they get yelled at by their boss and since reader is pissed they come home and takes the frustration out on Kunikida by fucking him HARD and goes on multiple rounds ermmmm…. THIS IS SO BAD IM SORRY ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Ur fics r my girl dinner. Anywayz… luv u nini!! Thx 4 putting up with me ;3

- 🎀

No no no, it’s alright bae, I don’t mind. Your ideas are always so good too, I’ll work on the other ones soon, it might take a while but.. oh well

Dom!reader x sub!Kunikida

Reader is gender neutral

Warning: pegging (you can read it as strap or not, it’s not mentioned)

“Ugh, who does he think he is?!” You vented, seemingly annoyed. “Screaming at me like that, son of a bitch. Hey, kunikida, the fuck are you doing?” Your grip on his waist tightened, basically pinching him. He arched his back and yelped a little, “ah..! What are you- mhm, doing.” The male was riding you while you held him by the hips, giving him instructions and commands. “You are doing a horrible job, fuck it, I’ll do it.” Without giving him any warnings, you changed positions and got up, caussing him to fall onto his back.

“Ah, y/n?! I- UgH-Hngnn!” Kunikida gasped, now in the mating press with your arms forcing his legs to be raised to his chest. “You see I didn’t have a great day.” He moaned as he felt you deeper inside him, all thanks to this new position. “And I really don’t have any patience now.” Right before you started moving, his reached out to you, his shaking hands gently grabbed your arms. “P-please.. it’s the third round, I can’t do anymore…!”

That was the truth, he’s been riding you for a while now. Though just because that needy whore’s been pleased, doesn’t mean you were satisfied with his performance. “I’ve expected more from you.” You admitted with a cold gaze. Kunikida flinched as he saw your expression, shyly avoiding eye contact. He did kind of expect it, but it still surprised him when you suddenly started moving. Since he was stretched already due to the previous rounds, you were able to move faster from the start. Snapping your hips against his while panting slightly, using your anger as energy and his body as stress relief. “Ah-ahHhAa!” The Blondie cried out, tears rolling down his pretty face and decorating those flushed cheeks. His glasses were placed away on the nightstand, at a save distance. There were times were they broke during your sessions.

His body trembled with each thrust, he bit his lip to suppress those deliciously embarrassing moans he’d make. It was of no use though, because the pleasure was too overwhelming, so much that he was losing his mind. “What’s the problem, kunikida? You are normally so cool headed after all~” you teased him, not stopping with your relentless pounding. Fuck, you just loved that humiliated face of his. The way he shook underneath you, eyes pleading for your mercy, it was absolutely stunning. Like a drug to which you got addicted, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“Ah- uHhh..! Y/n, y-y/n, MHmmm!” The man whimpered through clenched teeth, you always had to embarrass him like this and he was never able to get used to it. What happened at your work this time? One day he was definitely going to kill that boss of yours. Since when you get furious over them, in the end, he’s always the one to suffer. “What are you thinking about, getting distracted like this?” Your question pulled him out of his day dream, startling him a little. He wasn’t even able to respond before you considered it unnecessary and moved even rougher. Taking away from the speed and instead focusing on reaching deep inside him.

Kunikida could swear he saw stars, the way his entire body tingled each time you touched him was rendering him to a mess. He was getting closer to the edge, his legs wrapped around your waist to keep you closer. You felt a shiver down your spine, he was too cute when like this. “Ah.. ughh, y/n..!” The male groaned again, he used all his strength to whisper a warning but the words didn’t want to come out, “I’m- mhHmm! C-close..” it was just too much for him to handle, he was already sensitive from the previous rounds. It’s not his fault you feel so good.

You didn’t slow down, there was no need for it. Watching him all twitchy and messed up like this was your favourite thing to do after all. He clenched around you as he came, leaking his cum all over his belly. It dripped down his shaft in an erotic way, all the way to his hole, soaking his thighs and the bed. “Uh..HhhMM.!! Ga-gahhhHh..” a chocked out moan slipped from him, lasting until he finished his load. Some tears rolled down the sides of his face, or maybe it was sweat? He looked at you with trembling eyes, a hint of need and undeniable ecstasy present. “Good job.” You praised him, before turning him around onto his belly, licking your lips as you did. “Let’s keep doing that until you forget my name~” Those desperate eyes turned into one of fear and curiosity soon, he just pressed his face against the pillow as he let you do whatever you wanted. What a good little stress relief~

(Tag: @nvllxiety)

#sub character #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #sub bungou stray dogs #sub bsd #sub kunikida #kunikida doppo #bsd kunikida #bungou stray dogs kunikida #kunikida x reader #kunikida smut #kunikida bsd #🎀 anon

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bobluvbot · 13 days

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birthday blues

pairing: sirius black x f!reader summary: first time godfather sirius goes shopping to find the perfect first birthday gift (jily + baby harry ♥️) wc: 5k a/n: me tryna heal canon trauma ❤️ because in my world everyone lives happily ever after !!! my lil celebration piece for hitting 200 followers! thank u all <3 not proofread, english is not my first language so plz be nice heheh

“What’s the store called again, sweets?”

even as a young kid, one of your biggest pet peeves is repeating yourself for more than four times. three is pushing it. your parents told you its a bad habit to take to adulthood because you’re bound to meet people who just don’t get what you’re saying the first or second time around. But one Wednesday morning, when you asked from upstairs where your favorite periwinkle socks were and your parents downstairs said something that the loud dishwasher and vacuum covered up, you asked them to repeat it again (still can’t hear), and again when you moved closer to the staircase down (barely heard any), then you heard your father’s heavy footsteps up, personally shoving in your waiting hand the said pair of socks.. only damp. “Honey, I said three times already, that they were still in the dryer,” your dad had huffed before heading back downstairs. That’s when you knew it was genetic.

But, you love Sirius Black. It’s gotten to the point where in the honest, sensitive hours past midnight, while there was nothing much to do as you let sleep creep up from your tired limbs to your fluttering eyelids, but to watch peace settle on the raven-haired boy’s sharp features, ethereal and glowing like an angel even in the dark of the night; that you realize he may be the love of your life. It’s a scary thought, with fears of being too eager, too soon, too much—- so you tuck it in a little pocket and give it a nudge when you need a reminder of how big and true its growing with each second spent together.

You love him, so you breathe out the snarky irritation away in slow heavy puffs and inhale peace, choosing to exercise patience because you know Sirius is nervous.

“It’s Spintwitches Sporting Needs, love. ‘s right across Ollivanders if I’m not mistaken,” you say, taking his free hand in yours and rubbing small circles on his knuckles to calm some of his nerves down, while he drives through busy muggle London streets to park by the Leaky Cauldron. He throws you a soft smile and gives your hand a quick squeeze as thanks, grateful to the heavens that you’re here to keep him from going insane.

You know him enough that, while the day in question is not about him, or you, or your relationship, it meant a great deal to Sirius.

He had one chance (even if you’d argue otherwise) to make things right, do things the right way the first time around with Harry. James knew this fact by heart, which is why he and Lily agreed in a heartbeat that Sirius should be little Harry’s godfather, as it was meant to be. He would do anything, go beyond means, hell, even against Merlin himself just to ensure the safety and happiness of his godson.

No one, however, was expecting it to backfire and it caught you and Sirius off guard. Once the tears dried and elation diffused, the anxiety kicked in for Sirius, and in turn you. He knew what the opposite was, parents who robbed their own sons of happy childhoods and disowned him when he got brave enough to find happiness and protect it, he had lived it. And now that he has a chance to save an innocent soul from a similar fate, he was determined, but this fact scared him shitless.

He wanted everything to be perfect (who wouldn’t?) and gave everything he physically could to make James and Lily’s Harry’s life easy and happy. Seeing Sirius buy ‘How to Dad?’ books and pour over them at night or on his free time at work was undoubtedly an attractive and loving sight. In a span of a week, he knew which is the best formula to supplement with breastfeeding, toys to pick that stimulate early brain development, even clothes made with hypoallergenic materials that won’t irritate the sensitive newborn skin. It came to a point where James would ask him for advice when Lily’s at work, and Sirius would put on his trusty reading glasses and point at a specific passage of ‘How to Dad?’ that answers James’ question perfectly.

Eventually, you did have to put your foot down when you found Sirius writing a howler to a baby food company when rumors started going around that their baby snack puffs (which Harry was obsessed with) had harmful chemicals in it. In typical Sirius fashion, he wasn’t convinced that easily. You’d bet that what pushed him off the howler letter route (and in turn protect the statute of wizarding secrecy) was seeing you spend lots of time in the kitchen to perfect making banana and strawberry baby snack puffs from scratch until the recall was over and the food was deemed safe to be consumed again by experts and Sirius himself.

Hearing many iterations of how the newborn days and months go by so fast was difficult to believe at times, especially when you and Sirius were babysitting to let the exhausted parents get some sort of reprieve multiple times a month. It was almost always the same. Harry would sleep for four hours straight during the night, and almost hourly right after; and while you and sirius had gotten pretty good at dividing up the tasks like bottle feeding and nappy changes equally, the shrill cry of a hungry baby is difficult to ignore and sleep through.

So despite of Sirius’s best efforts to crawl out of bed and tip-toe to the bassinet quietly not to wake your sleeping form, he gets sad but unsurprised to see you pad towards him and the baby, yawning soundlessly as you squeeze yourself between the soft armrest and Sirius’s side, head resting on his shoulder. It was his idea to get a spacious, soft recliner in the bedroom and it came in handy for situations like these, where getting back to bed once Harry sleeps is too risky as the boy would just wake up with the slightest movement, so the next best option was to try getting rest wherever you ended up in. The cries that once overpowered Sirius’s hushed whispers and cooing finally quiets down. A sigh of relief leaves both your lips, basking in the comfortable silence and bodies finding solace in each other’s warmth.

You want to say so many things to your lovely boyfriend, things he just has to hear: that he’s doing such a great job, that you see him and all the extra steps he has to take to become and do better than what he was raised for, that you love him for every single bit of it— but the right words don’t come easy when sleep-deprived and exhausted at 4:25am in the morning. So you lift your lips up to meet his temple, the side of his mouth, then his lips; hoping it’d convey what words couldn’t at the moment.

But time is an experienced thief. It was a Saturday afternoon in the middle of May and it was warm enough for you to whip out the frilly spring dresses that had been pushed to the back of your closet by the thick woolen coats from colder months. The boys had gone on a day trip to help Peter move into his first solo apartment, assembling furniture and stocking up on necessities to ensure he could survive on his own. Without the booming voices and bumbling energy of his father and godfather, little Harry had no choice but to match the calm and peaceful ambiance that you and Lily curated inside the Potter house. While it’s certainly different from what his everyday looks like (living with the likes of James), he seems to enjoy it. Gentle breeze from the windows Lily left open while she baked carry the smell of lemons and vanilla throughout the entire house, making it smell heavenly. You’d been sat on the floor by the dining table, surrounded by toy trains and colorful blocks, watching the ten-month-old munch on a toy graphorn adoringly. Recently, he’s been on a phase where he has to run anything he could get his hands on with his mouth. Some secret test or screening must be up there or something because that’s how Harry decides which toys are deserving of his attention for the day.

You’d picked up a toy set of magical creatures after work yesterday, and it won the almost toddler’s attention for the whole day. James had to snatch the toy niffler away from Harry’s grasp so he could say goodbye to his son and ask for a kiss. Safe to say there were no kisses exchanged because the little boy was too busy wailing and screaming at his father’s face. Lily had to create physical distance between her two boys so the younger one can calm down while the older got mopey. Sirius had to whisk his best friend away from the scene of the crime so that they can get on with the day, but not without leaving you a kiss.

The said niffler had soon been replaced with the hippogriff, then now the graphorn, and it’s been sitting on your lap since. Harry suddenly pulls the toy graphorn out of his mouth with a resounding pop. You both share a second or two of shocked eye contact and silence, his bright green eyes wide with surprise, before triggering a belly flipping laughing fit. This child could shock himself with a sudden burp or an unexpected sound of hitting random things with a fork, and you’d laugh every single time like its the funniest cutest thing you’ve seen in your life. It’s likewise for the rest of the marauders. Being the first baby of the group had all the adults wrapped in his pudgy fingers and he has no idea.

Harry’s eyes drop from your smiling face to the Niffler on your lap, and makes grabby hands. You almost, almost give in, but you decide to encourage him to go get it himself. Maybe today’s the day he starts to walk. You move to him a bit closer, probably a good seven baby steps in between.

“You want the Niffler, bud? You have to go get it from me!” You make a show out of grabbing the toy from your lap multiple times, hoping it’d make sense to the little boy.

He whines something sounding like your name and does more impatient grabby hands. But you weren’t giving up without a fight. “C’mon, Haz! You can do it,” you say enthusiastically.

Harry did know how to stand and good thing you were both sat near the dining table chairs, so to alleviate some of your aunt guilt you tuck the niffler away and out of Harry’s reach, before helping him up to his feet and urging him to grab one of the chair legs for support.

He stays upright, eyes still on the toy that you place again on your lap as you return to your original spot, and you clap with glee. “Great job, buddy! Okay, only a few steps to me and you’ll get the toy!”

Lily, curious to see the commotion happening on her kitchen floor, leans against the counter for a better view. Harry sees this and does the same thing, he looks at her pleadingly while making grabby hands and pointing to the niffler on your lap. You can tell the redhead’s fighting the mom urge to make her child’s life easier, but thank the heavens when she gives your same answer. She even moves to kneel beside you, waving to get her son’s attention and pointing at the niffler on your lap.

“C’mon, my sweet boy,” Lily says. “Mama knows you can do it!”

Motivated by frustration as his aunt and own mother won’t just hand him his goddamn toy, Harry whines angrily but makes a sideways step closer, death grip still on one of the chair legs. You and Lily squeal and clap in delight, urging the boy to do it again.

He makes a move for another step, but realizes that there’s no more legs to grab onto. Reluctantly, his right hand lets go and in turn faces you and Lily. This results in another round of applause, which serves like a drug to these little babies.

An anxious expression fleetingly appears on his face as he looks to you both, but the encouragement and cooing seemed to scare those big feelings away. Determined, Harry makes an unsure step forward without support, which then makes both yours and Lily’s heartbeat jump. It all happened so quick, the fear of losing balance triggered Harry’s other leg catch him on impulse, then the same on the other leg, then the other. Harry’d made four successful steps on his own before his mom catches him in her embrace before he topples over to the floor.

You and Lily were a sobbing, exultant mess. Harry, clearly confused about the commotion, whines for the niffler while Lily kisses him all over his face. You hand it to his waiting palms like a trophy before ruffling his unruly hair. An attempt for words has been made, but all that came from your mouth are garbled phrases about the miracle that just happened. Lily nods in agreement and you hug them both back.

This ten-month old just walked. This is the same baby that kept you and Sirius up at night for his feedings. The same baby responsible for the drool and spit up marks on your shirts. The same baby that laughs and babbles with you like he understands when you tell him random stories. The same baby that squeals in delight when you blow raspberries on his belly.

It felt like he had just been born a few days ago, memories of changing hundreds of nappies and preparing bottles of milk still vivid in your mind. But it’s earth shattering to consider that he’s closer to being a one year old than to the little bundle handed to you by James in the hospital room.

Time is unrelenting, stealing mundane moments behind your back and when you realize the loss, poof! The newborn you held in your arms is now a walking toddler. Soon, he’ll be the one talking your ears off, going to Hogwarts, driving a car.. You shiver at the thought. He was growing up so fast that blinking felt like cheating, afraid that you’ll miss a precious moment that you’ll never get back.

His first birthday came in the same manner— too fast for both yours and Sirius’s liking, but the wistful feelings came with excitement as Harry being a toddler opened up lots more opportunities to play and discover the world around him. James and Lily had spent the whole month planning a big birthday bash to celebrate the kiddo’s life, inviting all their loved ones to share the special day with them. And with that, the pressure was on for Sirius, as the self-proclaimed best godfather to get the perfect first birthday gift.

It’s like the heavens knew it was a special day for you both that it made sure to put out the best shopping weather one could ever ask for—- not too warm or too cold. It was a Tuesday afternoon, which meant the adults were kept in workplaces and children sent to Hogwarts or in homeschooling, leaving Diagon Alley nearly deserted, minus the occasional stray shoppers entering and leaving shops here and there. Clad in color coordinated couples outfits (that was your thing recently, Sirius more than happy to oblige) and hand in hand, you begin the mission to locate Spintwitches Sporting Needs.

Nostalgia always finds a way to seep into your bones whenever you find yourself in Diagon Alley. One blink and suddenly you’re ten again, both hands tucked in each parent’s as your mom pours over the list of school supplies you’ll need again for your first year at Hogwarts. You and Sirius see Ollivanders at a short distance and hear the entrance bell chime, the very same sound you heard when entering the shop for the first time, the shopkeeper taking one good look at you before immediately rummaging around the store, grabbing a specific box located on a random shelf four stories up. The look of confidence when he says it’s made just for you, a magical glow enveloping your tiny frame while opening the magenta box. That same magic guided you to a world where you truly belonged in, a castle that felt so much like home, and friends that soon became found family and lifelong partners. The thought of Harry soon experiencing these moments leaves a giddy feeling in your chest.

The smoky sweet scent of freshly roasted chestnuts catches your attention and you discreetly look for the source of your favorite warm snack. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sirius (hardly nothing ever does, even the things you wish he’d miss or forget), and he gives your hand a small tug. You try to be aloof as you return his waiting gaze, complete with a quirk of your eyebrow, to which he responds with an impish smirk towards your bad acting.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that look, sweets.” The amusement in his voice is palpable as he steers you away from the main walkway and towards the small chestnut stall tucked in an alleyway, almost hidden by the bigger shops surrounding it.

“But, the store’s right there, Siri,” you try to protest. He had been anxious and stressed out about this day in particular, you knew if you were in his shoes, you’d be beelining to the store as soon as you get off the car. But he just shakes his head like its the obvious choice and nods towards the cart. “Can’t have my girl hungry now.”

After a failed attempt of trying to pay for the warm brown bag (you were no match for Sirius’s lithe, agile fingers in basically everything), you accept it with a sigh, giving yourself a few seconds to sulk before starting on the chestnuts. You weren’t the best at accepting things from other people just because, it always felt like you had to do something in return for them just to deserve it. Maybe that’s why the universe conspired to have you meet and fall for Sirius, who is a very enthusiastic giver, teaching you hard lessons on the daily.

As you begin the journey back to the shop, you carefully crack open one and hold it up to Sirius’s mouth, to which he happily obliged. “Mm, somehow chestnuts taste better when you handfeed me, dove. Do it again.”

You roll your eyes in response, but you find your fingers starting to peel another. “You’re lucky you’re good looking, Black,” you mutter to save some face, that you weren’t head over heels for this man and he to you. That’s a conversation to be had in another, less stressful day.

The shop, painted electric blue and orange, wasn’t hard to miss. One step in and the welcoming aroma of broom polish, rubber, and smoky wood brings you right back to the Quidditch locker rooms; memories of frantically lacing up your boots a minute or two after James called you as backup for an injured beater, helping Marlene comb out the tail end to fix the broom alignment after practice, and getting pinned to the cool lockers during post-win celebratory makeout sessions with Sirius, replaying vividly in your head.

It looked deceivingly small on the outside; aside from the expansive selection of different broomstick models, they had books and magazines about Quidditch strategies and featured famous matches, repair and maintenance kits for maintaining broomstick qualities, complete Quidditch gear for all shapes and sizes, and tiny practice snitches flying around the room. Squint and it’ll just be like how each Hogwarts common room would be decorated when there’s a big Quidditch match between houses or international ones in the world cup: streamers and accessories like horns and banners representing each team, posters of Chudley Cannons and Holyhead Harpies (in opposing corners to prevent unsolicited fights) accompanied by autographs of famous players and collectibles littering almost every surface of the walls. It was Quidditch dreamland.

Still in awe admiring the displays as you both walk through aisles hand in hand, Sirius breaks the silence first. “What do you think Harry will play as in Quidditch?”

You hum in response and he continues, running his hands through the bat display they had for little kids. “I bet he’d be a beater like me. You remember how that punk hit me straight on the face last week?”

You nod in amusement. Sirius had played it cool as he gently laid Harry back in his playpen, still laughing and cooing, then as soon as little Harry turned his back on his uncle, Sirius ran to you for first aid and whined the whole time you were healing the already forming bruise. But not a few hours later, he’s bouncing the baby in his arms again as he gave him a tour of the backyard.

“Yeah, those little fists definitely pack a punch.”

“How about you, love?”

Sifting through a year’s worth of memories, it was surprisingly easy to find your answer. “I think he’ll follow James’s footsteps and be a seeker.”

Sirius’s pout becomes evident, making you giggle and tug on his arm in efforts to cheer him up. “Think about it. Ever since prongslet got those glasses, it’s harder to hide anything from him now because his eyes are so quick. Poor Crookshanks too, that cat can’t catch a break now when Haz wants to play because he tracks its movements.”

Sirius lets out a soft chuckle and slings his arm around your shoulders to hold you closer. “Good point, good point,” he repeats, seemingly deep in thought as his fingers run up and down the small of your arm. “We shall see, whatever he decides to play as, or if he even plays at all, I’ll be proud of him.”

You look up to him as he absentmindedly stares at the Quidditch gear sets for little kids, a light, wistful smile on his handsome features. He might not say it out loud, but the love he has for his godson reverberates through his being, and its a warming sight to see.

Before you confess your love for your boyfriend in the middle of a Quidditch store, you whisk him away and towards the toy broom display, the only thing you were both here for. Only the big bright signs directed you to the right place, which didn’t prepare you at all for the heart exploding sight.

You’re about to burst into tears seeing how cute and tiny the little toy brooms were, and how they came in complete with tiny versions of the headlights, seats, and bag compartments the usual adult broom comes with. Both you and Sirius stood with mouths agape for a solid minute as you took in the expansive display, before your lovely boyfriend proceeds to pick out the most expensive one with the most features on it from the batch.

Surprisingly, it was you who reminded him to grab a helmet before running off to purchase the toy broom, the giddiness and excitement spreading between the two of you. The cashier gives both of you a knowing look as you and Sirius both mellowed down from full giggles to bashful smiles, examines the broom to be purchased, and asks, “For your little one?”

Now, you were no stranger to conversations like these with former lovers in the past, and you could almost hear the typical response of denial that comes swiftly with the question. It used to hurt, even if you knew by heart that that person didn’t have the fifth date potential or that it just wouldn’t last. It’s that unexplainable feeling of shame and rejection when they’d realize that it won’t work with you before you would, or if they answer with a laugh, as if having a future with you is an appalling thought. You’ve gotten better with it throughout the years, but for some reason your skin crawls with the thought of Sirius saying the same things. Years of desensitization down the drain, you find yourself bearing your entire soul to the man beside you the entire relationship, and he can easily break you into two with his response. You cross your fingers that he won’t.

He was already looking when your gaze met his, a look of softness and tenderness from him so profound you wondered if you were deserving of it. The surge of butterflies in your belly was all consuming.

Sirius shifts uneasily and shakes his head, you prepare for the worst. “For our nephew, not for our own child..,” he pauses, glancing back at you for a quick second. “Yet. But if all goes according to my sneaky plan, we might be back sooner than she thinks.”

The cashier chuckles at your stunned reaction as you shift your focus between him and your boyfriend who was both furiously blushing and actively avoiding your stare. Did you just get a marriage proposal?

Taking advantage of your confusion, Sirius pays for everything including the gift wrapping, which you had previously argued about who was responsible paying (you won, not that that matters now). You let him tug your arm and guide you out of the store, saying a quick thank you to the amused cashier. The influx of butterflies were back, tickling your insides and spreading warmth in each crevice. Just seeing Sirius handle the rambunctious mini James with care and glee, makes it so easy for you to imagine a life with him, and eventually have a little bean that’s equal parts of you and him. You hope they’d get the best parts of both.

No one brings it up as you began your journey back to the car and you’re grateful. Gift bag swinging on your arm, you drag Sirius to go get ice cream to which he happily obliges.

A gentle quiet settles on accomplished shoulders like a warm blanket as you settle in the car. Strawberry and vanilla fudge ice cream sticky sweet on each other’s lips as you exchange cones every once in a while. It would be enough to lull you to sleep, if not for Sirius’s deep breaths and sighs, the thundering of his heart that he tries to quell by discreetly scratching a small part of the steering wheel where his thumb usually lay.

He breaks the silence first, an uneasy tone making his voice seem small. “Do you think he’ll like it, dove?”

“Yes, Siri. I know he’ll love it.” You try your best to enunciate the right words, but a conflicted expression marrs his handsome features, sending a twinge to your heart.

It comes to you before he speaks. This was something that had been plaguing Sirius’s mind for a while, occupying his dreams and thoughts, embedding itself to his mind and causing unwarranted amounts of stress. You resist the urge to fill in the blanks for him because it has to come from him and him only.

But after everything he’s been through, what seems easy for most sometimes is the hardest to muster. “Siri,” you pause, waiting until he looks up at you and you keep his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His gray orbs still before the dam breaks. “I’m sorry, love.” He chokes. “If I’m being so difficult, irky, irritated, anxious, everything.”

Hot tears run down his cheeks and it’s a painful watch. wanting nothing but to wipe it off and tuck him in your embrace and promise him he won’t be hurt as long as you’re there, but you can’t. The best thing you could do for him is to let it all out and finally feel.

He stares ahead on the city road with fingers trembling on the wheel. “I’m just so scared. So scared. James and Lily have been amazing parents, I can’t say same thing for myself but I try my best. Sometimes I still feel like he deserves someone better to be his godfather,” he sobs. “I just love him so much. I want only the best for him. I just want him to be happy and healthy all the time.”

After a while, you say with a bittersweet tone. “You know we can’t promise that, Siri,” you sigh. “Storms will come and will do damage and hurt and things that we can’t undo,” you pause, sniffling as you take your right hand to guide him to face you again, vulnerable gray eyes meeting yours. “But you know what?”

You give him an assuring smile, speaking the truth. “He’s gonna be alright because little as he is right now, he is so loved and adored by so many people, so loved by his parents. And so loved by his godfather.”

It wasn’t said aloud, it doesn’t need to. Loud as it could be, Sirius knows what you’re about to say; that his ability to love despite of everything he’s been through, despite of his own family ruthlessly trying to rob him of the ability to do so. That’s the type of love that Sirius gives, a love that withstands rain and abandonment; a love that stays after a rough storm, offering a home always open to go to when times are rough and feelings are still hurt; a love that tells the truth even when its hardest to hear.

You know all this as an easy fact because you’re at the receiving end. Even if you hadn’t heard it from his lips yet.

“Have I told you I love you?”

A watery smile spreads on your face as you shake your head. “No, but i feel it everyday.”

“I love you, Y/N.” It leaves his lips like breaths, naturally and easily.

It’s the same thing for you, too. “I love you too, Siri.”

And it ends with sticky kisses that taste of vanilla fudge and berries.

137 notes · View notes

entishramblings · 4 months

Text

Fuck the Forbidden Pt. 2

[Boromir/F!MermaidReader]

PART 1 | PART 3 — coming soon

Fuck the Forbidden: FTF LINK MASTERLIST

A.N: my apologies for taking so much time to update: graduate school is a tornado, plus getting sick and the craziness of holidays season didn’t help. Anyways, thank you for your patience and your continuous support! I literally read all your comment in order to inspire me to write again!

Request: none

Pairing: Boromir X Fem!MermaidReader

Summary: The Reader is a Mermaid and witnessed a shipwreck. She becomes interested in human life—particularly one human: Boromir.

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the mermaids of middle earth is not canon. also I tried my best with arda water/river geography plz don’t come at me—it’s not one of my finer subjects :/

Word Count: 5.7k — listen, yes, I STILL have a problem

Warnings: depression, drowning, ptsd, alcoholism, angst, comfort, fluff, stalking (idk how to make that last one sound less creepy. you’re just gonna have to read it).

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

The following day, (Y/N) waited in the depths of the Anduin River by the entrance of the Minas Tirith castle. Sure enough, the captain, decorated in silver, came out upon his steed. Though he did not have the cheer he normally held—despite his recent struggles—he seemed….different. (Y/N) had hoped that he didn't remember what he saw under the lake. Maybe he figured he was too drunk and his mind was playing tricks on him? Maybe he would forget it all together? However, that fearful look in his eyes when he glanced at the river told her otherwise. It appeared Faramir failed to convince his brother that the mer-folk were just a myth.

Boromir deviated from his routine as well. He did not go to the market for the breakfast that he seemed to love. No, no. Instead he went out towards the edge of the city–towards the docks. And (Y/N) went with him. He passed his horse off to another and walked upon the wood, passing ship and boat, until he came upon a small fishing vessel. (Y/N) swam around it and took to the surface upon its side, far enough to not be spotted, but close enough to see and hear.

“Iwar,” Boromir called out. “You there?”

“Oi!” the old man replied, emerging from the sails. “What can I do for yer?”

“You have a moment?”

“For ye? Of course I do, lad. What is this about?” Iwar stated, squinting in the sun.

Boromir huffed, and pulled something from his pocket. He lightly tossed it to the older fellow. “What do you make of this?”

Iwar frowned, holding the whale up before his face by the string Boromir had used to make it into a necklace. “Where’d ye get it?”

“In a pond. One that connects to the Anduin River.”

Iwar sent him a strange look. “Do ye know what this is made out of?”

Boromir shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s bone, Boromir,” he replied tentatively.

At this, the captain’s lips parted. “Bone?”

Iwar tossed the whale carving back to him. “Aye, couldn't tell ye what it came from. Whittled too much away for that. Ye said yer got it from a pond?”

He nodded, swallowing dryly.

“Could’ve washed up from the currents.” Iwar stated, nonchalantly, returning to the tasks of his sail. “Some trinket someone lost to the sea.”

Boromir dipped his head, his anxiety present as he fiddled with the whale.

Iwar glanced at him. “Something else, boy?”

Boromir inhaled slowly. “Iwar, do you–do you really believe those tales of the sea-folk?”

The old man sent a weary look at the captain as he tied off one of the ropes upon the fabric. “Aye. Saw one of em’ when I was just a lad. Nearly lost my life.”

Boromir focused his gaze upon Iwar. “I think–I think I saw one last night.”

At this, the older man froze. Slowly, he turned his full attention to the captain, dread slipping from his face.

Still, Boromir continued, trying to justify his sighting. ‘Though, I don't know. I was very drunk. Had a couple ales too many. My mind could’ve—”

“You were out on the sea last night?” Iwar interrupted, confused.

Boromir shook his head.

“The shore then? Never heard of em’ venturing so close.”

Boromir released a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, I was in the pond by the Minas Tirith castle.”

Iwar’s form stiffened as he walked toward the captain. He nodded at the bone carving in Boromir’s hand as he spoke in a tone that held so much anxiety that it radiated through the air around him. “The same pond where ye found that?”

“Yes.”

Iwar’s eyes widened wildly. “I’d tell ye what, lad. Ye have been marked by em.’ And that—” he dipped his head at the whale once more. “—I reckon that's human bone.”

Blood drained from Boromir’s face, replaced with sheer panic. His fingers clumsily grappled with the carving, uncertain of how to handle it. Reluctant to make direct contact, he hesitated before settling on gripping the string, allowing the whale to dangle. Disgust etched across his brow.

“I’d get out while ye can. Stay away from the sea waters, boy.” Iwar warned.

….

That night, Boromir didn't go to the pool of water by the white walls—nor the following night. He, quite frankly, didn't go near the water at all. He stayed far from the beaches and from the Anduin River. He took longer paths to where he needed to go in order to avoid such circumstances that put him near what Iwar had described to live in the sea.

And this—all this broke (Y/N)’s heart. It stirred up a tumult of emotions—sadness, anger, fear, and frustration. Therefore, on the third day, she sought solace in a secluded nook along the Bay of Belfas. Hoisting herself onto a warm rock, she sat, enveloped in her misery. Her once-vivid fantasies of the land-people and Boromir now dissolved into sorrow and regret. What lingered was the haunting image of Boromir's disdainful expression when Iwar speculated that her gift was crafted from human bone. Any mer-folk would be delighted to receive such a heartfelt gesture! But Boromir wasn't of the sea, now was he.

(Y/N) stayed upon the rock for hours, hoping the sun would soak up her melancholy mood. However, that is not what the golden beams absorbed. Her skin dried, her hair lightened and billowed freely, and the scales on her tail lacked the moisture they once held. It was at that moment discomfort struck. Excruciating, searing pain surged through her tail, a relentless agony that prompted a deep cry from her lips. Every nerve seemed to flare with an intense, burning sensation, rendering her nearly paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the pain. She couldn't move, only shake and claw at the rock she perched upon. It felt like hours as she laid there, praying to the gods to make it end. And when it did, she instinctively reached for her scales. However, to her surprise, her hand met no such thing; instead, flesh had replaced the once-familiar tail.

(Y/N) gasped.

Her father had said…

He had tested them all…

None had the gift….

He lied.

Emotions swirled around her naked form as she stared at the strange extension that replaced her glimmering scales—legs. Anger, irritation, sadness, regret, frustration, excitement all ran through her blood.

Slowly, she stood. As she took a wobbly step upon the rock, a loud, breathy giggle escaped her lips.

Was this a dream?

(Y/N) took another uncertain step, and another, and another—until she stumbled, her hand reaching out to break her fall. However, a splash came from that, for her palm struck where water had gathered in a dip upon the rock.

Immediately, she felt it.

Her skin tingled, then burned and stung, stretching and pulling in a painful dance. (Y/N) cried out as the pain intensified. With scales attempting to form on her dry legs, the tugging became excruciating once more—tears streamed from her eyes as she desperately scrambled towards the water.

Her form slipped and rolled, right off the rock and into the ocean.

Immediate relief enveloped her. Scales continued to knit together without a hint of pain. The water soothed her. It coated the soreness into nonexistence.

(Y/N) allowed her form to sink, adjusting.

There she floated, letting her body and mind adjust to what had just happened.

It was then when one of the turmoiling emotions overtook the rest of them. It coursed through her gills and surged through her veins.

How dare he…

With a decisive flick of her tail, she propelled herself toward her father's palace.

The anger granted her remarkable speed, causing other merfolk to whip their heads around in confusion as she barreled past them.

She swam directly to the grand chamber, where she anticipated her father perched upon his throne, and busted the door open with her tail.

“HOW DARE YOU?!” she screamed at him.

Heads turned instantly—her father’s, her sisters’, the guards’.

“HOW DARE YOU LIE TO ME, FATHER. HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL ME I HAD THE GIFT?!”

Her father rose, signaling the guards to leave. They swam away quickly, avoiding the impending wrath of the sea's king and his children.

“You lied straight to my face,” (Y/N) stated.

“(Y/N), what are you talking about?” Anahita interjected, appalled by her sister’s tone.

Mareena added to her statement. “That is no way to speak to our father!”

(Y/N)'s tail flicked with irritation as she focused her gaze on the man before her. “I have the gift to walk among the land-folk.”

Una gasped. Seria’s mouth dropped open. Rana’s eyes widened. Nerida’s brows shot upwards.

Their father swam towards (Y/N). “You went to the land?!” he growled. “It is forbidden.”

“I DID NOT GO ONTO THE LAND!” She snapped back. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again. “I was letting the sun warm me upon a rock when it happened—the tingling, the splitting, the pain.”

“You went to the surface—”

“How dare you not tell me, Father!”

“I DID NOT TELL YOU BECAUSE OF THIS!” He yelled. “Because I knew the minute you would figure it out, you would want to test out your new form. You would put us all in danger.”

“YOU HAVE PUT ME IN DANGER. YOU HAVE MASKED YOUR PROTECTION IN LIES THAT HAVE ONLY CAUSED ME PAIN. HOW DARE YOU!” (Y/N) retorted.

With that, (Y/N) swam away. She twisted through the reefs and the grass. She slipped through the schools of fish and their bubbles. She slithered through the rocks and caves. She did so until she was back in the Anduin River, where the lively markets and the hustle of people's households awaited. Breaking through the water's surface, she emerged with a cautious awareness, ensuring she remained unseen.

She swam along the edge until she came upon a line of clothing strung between two buildings. On it hung sheets as bright as a lemonpeel angelfish, a skirt holding the vibrance of an orange clownfish, a flowing wrap the hue of a blue tang fish, a pair of trousers the color of a brown leafy sea dragon, a top shaded like that of a pink fairy wrasse, and a flowing dress the cream color of a stingray’s belly.

(Y/N) looked at her surroundings.

The people were on the other side of the clothing line—all mucking about in the market. None even bothered to shed a glance behind the fabric. All were too busy going about their day.

Therefore, with little regard for the forbidden nature of her actions—because, really, fuck the forbidden—(Y/N) decided to defy the rules that had once controlled her life.

Originally, she hadn't intended to act in such defiance, but the anger coursing through her veins urged her forward into impulsive urges.

Hauling her form out of the water, (Y/N) manipulated the water clinging to her, using her fingers in twisting and rippling motions. She gathered the liquid into a cohesive ball and, with a flick of her wrist, sent the sphere dancing through the air before it plopped back into the river.

The tingling sensation began, followed by the excruciating pain, and soon enough, the transformation into legs commenced.

Anxiously, (Y/N) stood. Her shaky legs wobbled as she adjusted to their unfamiliar form. Her trembling fingers swiftly seized the cream colored dress—she didn't want to stand out, she needed to blend in—and she clumsily slipped it on. Her gaze then fixated on a brilliant blue wrap. The color resonated with the deep seas she hailed from, and she couldn't resist. The mermaid grasped the silk and yanked, winding it around her hair in a manner she had observed from land women when peeking from the river. Letting some of her locks cascade out of the twisted band, the blue fabric draped over her shoulders. She smiled.

Her hand instinctively rose to her neck, where her necklace adorned with shells, sea glass, and bones encircled her skin. A frown crossed her face. She couldn't part with it—this cherished gift from her since passed mother. Therefore, she let it remain, finding that it didn't look too out of place.

(Y/N) ventured into the market, nervously navigating the bustling city of Minas Tirith with her new, wobbly legs. The vibrant atmosphere teemed with life and excitement as diverse groups came together to weave the people into the human race. So many men, women, and children—all different sizes, all different shapes, all different skin tones—bustled through the streets.

Young children ran through the tents playing games and tricks on one another. Often enough, a woman was pursuing the chase while yelling for their halt of mischief. Men were not involved in this matter. Instead, they loudly called out the names of what they sold, along with prices, at the busy passerbyers in hopes of getting a customer. Never had (Y/N) seen something so brilliantly enthralling and engaging—not in her time under the sea with the mer-folk.

As she moved through the people, she discreetly snagged what she needed. A pair of sandals disappeared from a rack, and she swiftly turned away before anyone noticed. Vibrantly colored bracelets caught her eye at a vendor's stall, and she couldn't resist snagging a few. Additionally, she plucked food from bins and baskets. She didn't know what it was—but oh how delicious it tasted when it was not dunked in the salt of the sea.

Here, (Y/N) stayed, exploring the thrill of humanity and letting their culture enrapture her senses. So much so, that she failed to notice a soldier adorned in silver until she collided with his metal-plated chest.

Her form tumbled backwards, taking an extra moment to steady.

“Are you alright, miss?” a concerned voice inquired.

(Y/N) slowly raised her head to meet a familiar face: Faramir.

Unable to find her voice, she could only nod in reply. Shyness and anxiety filled her as she backed away from the unexpected encounter.

He acknowledged her reply with a dip of his own head before turning to another soldier a little ways away. He made way towards him and gently touched his arm. “Boromir, we should get going. Father is expecting us.”

(Y/N) went still. Her inquisitive gaze shifted towards him, and indeed, there stood Boromir. His dark, sandy hair brushed upon his forehead, tousled slightly from the refreshing breeze. Vibrant blue eyes held a sternness, concealing the sadness she knew resided in his heart. His pink lips pressed into a firm line, refraining from the warmth of a smile. Boromir was clad in the silver armor and the metal weapons that she had seen him in nearly every day. He looked fit for his position as captain, his authority nearly radiating from him. Now that she was upon the land, he seemed so much bigger—so much stronger. So much more important.

(Y/N)’s cheeks began to heat, prompting her to quickly ducked behind the fabric of a tent. After giving herself a moment, she peaked out.

Though she knew she shouldn't, she found herself following them. At a safe distance, she mimicked every turn, accentuated every step, and utilized every path they took. And when the Steward's sons crossed the threshold of Minas Tirith Castle, so did she.

Instantly, she was met with just as much business as the market. Servants flooded the halls, carrying trays of fruit and platters of meat. Maids held onto neatly folded laundry and finely pressed sheets. Guards bustled about, their steel clanking as they moved through the halls, to get to their next shift, meal, or rest.

(Y/N) was so overwhelmed that she failed to notice a group of soldiers rounding the corner. As they pushed past her, a heavy shoulder slammed into her, the edge of the metal plate catching her forehead. The impact sliced the skin open, causing her to tumble backward against the wall.

Surprising her, she felt a gentle hand upon her arm, holding her steady. A soft voice that she knew all too well, that spoke words all too similar to his brother’s, filled her ears. “Are you alright, miss?”

In a daze, (Y/N) looked up at the dark sandy hair, vibrant blue eyes, and perfect pink lips of Boromir. Too stunned to speak, she merely stared at him, every thought that had occupied her mind vanishing in the moment.

Boromir turned towards the group of soldiers who had caused the commotion and knocked her down. With a tone infused with authority and anger, he snapped at them, “Watch where you are going!”

They turned, initially confused and uncertain of Boromir's reprimand until they spotted the frightened and injured girl beside him.

“What kind of soldiers are you that you let your steel hit a woman!” Boromir added, his irritation even more obvious. “Keep better track of your things—and your forms!”

The soldiers nodded, though their indifference was evident, and they shuffled away without much concern.

Boromir turned back to (Y/N), repeating his prior question, his tone gentle once more. “I apologize for the actions of my men. I will reprimand them later, but right now you are more important, yes? Miss?”

She looked up at him, blinking. He didn’t recognize her, did he?

“You’re bleeding,” he stated softly, his finger pressed gently upon her forehead.

A quiet gasp of pain escaped (Y/N)’s lips and her expressions distorted slightly.

“My apologies. I did not mean to make your pain worse. May I take you to the infirmary? We can get that treated.”

Unsure what to say—and what an infirmary was—she nervously dipped her head.

“Alright,” he began. “Let’s get you moving.”

Gently, he helped her move away from the wall, one arm wrapped around her waist. However, with a couple steps, her vision swirled and she stumbled.

Boromir caught her quickly. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Just a step at a time.” His brows pulled together as he looked down at her. “Are you dizzy? Is the room spinning?”

“I—I,” she stuttered. “Y-yes, uh, sir.”

He released a heated breath from his nose, the anger at the men who had harmed her simmering within him. However, he pushed it away, ensuring his attention remained on her. "How about you sit back down? Lean against the wall to keep you upright, yes?"

(Y/N) nodded, allowing him to help lower her to the stone floor. As the coldness rushed through her bones and the stillness began to steady, she looked up at him. “T-thank you,” she whispered. “Uh, sir.”

The captain smiled softly. “You may call me Boromir.”

She nodded slightly.

Boromir looked up and stopped a passing servant. “Could you please fetch me a medical kit from the infirmary? Just basic supplies.”

The man nodded, accepting the order, and rushed off. Moments later, he returned with various materials in a small box.

Boromir expressed his gratitude as he opened the kit. Without hesitation, he took hold of a soft cloth and gently swiped it upwards, collecting the blood that was now trickling down (Y/N)’s forehead. He then pressed it against the cut that was bleeding rather heavily. "Hold this there," he commanded gently.

The woman reached up to follow his instructions, and Boromir proceeded to lay out an array of little bottles and scraps of cloth. "What is your name?" he inquired as he doused a cloth in the liquids of one of the containers.

Her eyes followed his motions nervously. “(Y/N),” she replied timidly.

The Captain smiled, attempting to provide some comfort. “Are you from around here, (Y/N)?”

She shook her head.

“No? What are you doing in these parts then?” He asked.

“I—I don’t know.”

Boromir frowned, looking up at her from the medical supplies. She appeared more disoriented than he had initially expected. Perhaps the blow to the head was more substantial than he had thought?

“You don’t know?” He questioned, no alarm in his tone. Meanwhile, he began threading a needle, preparing it for the task of stitching her forehead. “Have you come with anyone? A husband? A father?”

She frowned, a blush creeping into her face at the implications of his words. “N-no. Alone.”

Boromir pressed his lips together, a sudden loneliness hitting him—one that he knew all too well—as he placed the threaded needle upon a clean cloth.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

She shook her head.

“Hmm. Alright. Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can worry about that.”

Boromir took the cloth from her forehead, his hand brushing upon hers as he did so. He then began bringing a damp cloth towards her face.

Instantly, her eyes went wide and she ducked away from the material. “It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s just alcohol.” He replied, lowering the cloth.

“N-not water?” She whispered, almost fearful.

He shook his head. “Nay. Water would not clean it properly. This will prevent any infection, though I’m afraid it will sting a bit. Is that alright?”

Slowly, (Y/N) nodded.

Boromir pressed the cloth to the cut and, instantly, she hissed.

“I know, I am sorry,” he murmured.

Gently, he cleaned the wound, being careful to not make any sudden movements that may startle her. When he was certain it was clean, he moved to pick up the needle.

“I will have to stitch it back together so it heals properly.” He looked into her worried gaze and he instantly felt guilt tugging at his heart. It appeared she had never experienced such an injury, or perhaps she had but never received proper treatment for one.

Cautiously, he used his other hand to pick up her own. Her soft palms brushed upon his hardened calloused, gentleness upon her touch. Placing her hand upon his knee, he spoke softly, “If it hurts too much just squeeze really really hard, and I will pause, alright? It is important that you keep your head still, yes?”

She nodded, adjusting her grip upon his knee, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety in her eyes.

Slowly, Boromir began the delicate task of stitching her skin back together. Her grip tightened upon him, only slightly, as she adjusted to the strange sensation of tugging on her skin.

"You are doing beautifully, (Y/N). We are almost done. I promise," the Captain reassured her. As he finished the last stitch and skillfully moved the thread to knot itself, he breathed out, "There we go," placing the needle back upon the cloth. He smiled gently, a reassuring warmth in his eyes, as he carefully cleaned the area around the stitches. "All finished," Boromir stated before leaning back, (Y/N)’s hand slipping from his knee.

“It will be sore for a bit,” he said. “But it should heal in a week. The stitching will fall out on its own, so if it starts to come out, do not worry. Though, I would advise you not to get it wet.”

At that last sentence, (Y/N) smiled softly. She wasn’t planning on getting wet—not anytime soon.

“Can you stand? Has the dizziness subsided?”

The woman nodded and slowly rose to her feet, taking Boromir’s hand when he offered it.

“Let’s find you a place to rest while you heal. And I would like to apologize for my soldiers’ actions once more. You are welcome to stay in Minas Tirith as long as you would like. I will make sure you get everything you need.”

(Y/N) looked up at his kind expression and spoke with that same nervous hesitancy. “Thank you.…Boromir.”

The captain guided her through the castle, arriving at a room. He opened the door and gestured inside with a soft smile. "It is yours to stay in. I will ensure the maids are alerted to provide you with adequate care. If you need anything else, my chambers are just down the hallway to the right, the second door."

She nodded in reply.

He bowed his head. “I will leave you then, miss.”

With that, he was gone.

(Y/N) moved to the center of the room and slowly spun around taking it all in. It was massive and airy. The windows were wind open, the sea breeze rushing in and caring hints of the city. The white curtains blew with that gentle wind, dancing in its whispers. The walls of the chamber were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting only what she could assume to be the legendary tales of the city. They were woven with beautiful silver and turquoise thread, catching the light so delicately. A bed sat in the middle of the room, soft white blankets and comforters piled on it. (Y/N) walked towards it and gently sat upon the fabric. It was….strange. Very different from the large shells she was used to curling up in.

Feeling a sudden tiredness take over her form, she laid down with ease. Resting her head upon the pillow, she allowed sleep to consume her.

…….

When she finally woke, the sun had set, and the stars took their place among the blanket of the sky. Cautiously, she pulled her legs from the cage of blankets and let them dangle off the side of the bed. They looked so….strange upon her form. She was used to her glimmering tail that collected light to share among the waters. Not—not this. She lowered her feet upon the stone floor, almost startled by the coldness that greeted them.

Hunger settled into her stomach as she moved towards the door. However, she found herself at a loss, unsure where to find a meal at this time. The markets were long since closed and she knew not where the kitchen in the Minas Tirith castle was. Of course, she could wander down to the tavern that Boromir frequented regularly—she knew the way well enough, but she didn't have any means to pay.

(Y/N) shifted on her feet. Boromir did say she could come to him if she needed anything….

Almost as if it were an excuse to see him again, she slipped through the door and began following his directions to his chambers. With every step, her heart pounded harder. She would get to see him again—and it wouldn't be through layers of water.

Upon arrival, the door stood ajar, allowing a whisper of cold air to drift from his open windows. Cautiously, she peered into the room. It was shrouded in darkness, with only the soft glow of the moon reflecting upon the vast room—oh, and what a beautiful room it was. The room eluded a captivating chaos, in the most exciting way. Tablets and shelves were filled with various items—maps, books, stones, germs, inventions, and trinkets. The room held a multitude of objects, each beckoning to be looked at, studied, and pondered—igniting a sense of wonder and an urge to guess the intention. Oh, it was a captivating sight.

“Boromir?” she called out.

Silence.

Slowly, (Y/N) stepped in. She let her feet carry her throughout the room, her hand brushing upon every object that her eyes could consume. She picked things up, examined them, then put them down for another. She did so continuously, urgently, the thirst for knowledge of the humans’ customs eager in her blood. She did so, until she came across something familiar—something she was surprised to see.

(Y/N) picked up the bone carved whale from the shelf that it rested on.

He had kept it.

A little grin formed on her face, for after his conversation with Iwar she didn’t think he would.

“Does that one interest you?” A soft tone asked.

(Y/N) jumped, startled.

Boromir chuckled lightly, stepping into the room. “I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”

She glanced down at the whale carving before looking back to him.

“I am not quite sure how that one came into my possession,” he continued as he moved to stand beside her.

She frowned, looking up. Her eyes were now direct at him, focused and stern—for the first time since he had met her. He would be lying if he said it didn't startle him a bit.

“You don't remember?” she asked, her tone strong.

“Well, no it’s not that. Of course, I remember how I got it. It just was a bit peculiar.”

(Y/N) tilted her head, not understanding.

Boromir sighed, his tone was distant as he spoke, his blue gaze not wavering from her curious eyes that suddenly seemed so bold. “A friend of mine says it's a dark omen, ment to mark me for death.” His vision trailed across her face. “He says it is made of the bone of my fallen brothers, urging me to follow them to their deaths.”

“Do you believe that?”

He blinked, his gaze lingering upon the whale. “I do not know what to believe.” Boromir looked at her expression. “What are your thoughts on such a statement?”

(Y/N) shrugged, placing the whale in its spot upon the shelf. “I believe people don’t understand other cultures and customs. I believe they make their own assumptions out of ignorance and fear.”

The captain raised a brow at her intelligence. “You are feeling better then?”

“Hmm?” (Y/N) hummed in question as she moved to another object.

“Well, that is the most I have heard you speak since I met you. You are wiser than you appear to be.”

She only shrugged in response, picking up a telescope and looking through its glass—by the wrong end.

“Though,” Boromir continued in a teasing manner as he plucked the object from her grasp, turned it the correct way, and placed it back in her palms. “That wisdom seems not to extend to everything.”

She frowned, looking through the glass once before placing it down. She then went for a music box, her confused expression deepening. “We do not have all these….these things where I am from.”

Boromir reached across her and twisted the little lever, releasing the gentle music from its hold. “And where is that, may I ask?”

At the twinkling sound, her smile, born of pure delight, extended from her expression. Her response to his question, however, was only that of a simple word, “Far.”

The captain raised a brow. “How far?”

(Y/N) shot him a strange look, placing the music box down and picking up a crystal sphere instead. “You ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled.

He grinned playfully. “You do not seem to give many answers, Miss (Y/N).”

She glared at him.

With that playful smile, he spoke again. “Would it help if you got to ask a question?”

(Y/N)‘s eyes crinkled with thought as she placed the object down and turned towards him. She saw how his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, how the circles under his eyes appeared so dark, how his expression was so hollow. Softly, she spoke again. “Why are you so sad, Boromir?”

Taken aback by this, his lips parted. “I—I do not know what you mean.”

She took a step closer to him, a step that nearly eliminated the space between them, and her piercing gaze burned up at him for the truth.

Hesitantly, he whispered that truth, as if she compelled it right out of him. “I—I recently was in a shipwreck. I thought, well, I thought I was dead—left for the watery graves below.” He paused, just for a moment. “But yet I am here and I do not know why. And, I am beginning to question things that I know, well, thought I knew, for the world appears different now.”

Silence.

Boromir's soft voice then picked up again, his breath warm upon the woman’s face. “Why are you so sad, (Y/N)?”

At this, her shy nature returned. (Y/N) turned her head away, not wanting to look at the source of her sadness.

Gently, Boromir tugged on her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You implored me to tell you such a truth,” he whispered. “May I not ask the same of you?”

(Y/N)’s tone was soft. “My truth is complicated.”

“Are not all truths complicated?” he responded.

With that, she withdrew from his grasp—a hold she desperately craved—and created enough distance between them, leaving him to wonder if such closeness had occurred at all.

A loud grumble then echoed through the dark room—splitting the darkness with something else, something much for lighthearted.

“When have you last eaten?” Boromir asked.

Her brows pulled together as she looked at her stomach.

He chuckled, offering her his hand. “Come. Let’s get you some food. I can take you to my favorite place.”

“But I—I have no coin,” she whispered shyly.

“You are a guest of Gondor, Gondor will see you fed.”

(Y/N) smiled, that innocent gaze returning. She hesitantly took his hand and he led her through the castle and towards the tavern.

The two arrived at the tavern rather quickly. Urine, stale ale, and sweat flooded (Y/N)’s nostrils—familiar aromas reminiscent of her vigilant watch over Boromir along the Anduin River. The lively atmosphere enveloped the pair. In the corner, a bard sang to the patrons, his melodic voice resonating throughout, enticing some to join in. Drunk men, tapping their feet along to the beat of the tune, howled in laughter and glee as they clinked their ales together and shoveled food into their mouths. Requests for additional drinks prompted maidens, adorned in long skirts and aprons, to gracefully deliver brimming glasses, the foaming liquid sloshing about.

(Y/N) smiled, taking in the environment.

Boromir cast a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “It’s just a tavern.”

She turned to him, her grin unwavering. “We don’t have taverns where I am from.”

He raised a brow. “And where is that? You never said.”

She shrugged. “Far.”

(Y/N) moved deeper into the tavern, with Boromir following suit. He motioned towards an available table, and they both took a seat. Before long, a serving maiden approached. Boromir signaled for two meals and two ales, and they promptly arrived.

The woman wasted no time and eagerly indulged in her food, swiftly emptying the plate.

Boromir tried to suppress a smile as he saw this, for he was glad she was getting proper nutrition after her likely long and hard journey. He, of course, wished to know more of her origins; though, he could see she wasn't quite ready to discuss such things. Instead, he opted to answer any and all questions she had which began with her curious tone.

“Boromir, would you be willing to tell me of your city? How you live in these parts? I wish to know.”

His soft gaze made contact with hers and he nodded, chewing his food and swallowing before he spoke. “What would you wish to know?”

“Everything—its structures, its people, its culture, its history.”

Therefore, Boromir spoke of such things. He described the White City's towering architecture, the valor of its people, and the complexities of the various beliefs held. He relayed its history and tales, showcasing the values of the Gondorian people.

His narratives ignited a spark in her eyes, drew laughter from her lips, and filled her heart with joy.

Fuck the forbidden indeed.

As the hours stretched on, Boromir’s friends joined them. (Y/N) could see the gleam in their eyes and catch the less-than-subtle teasing tones as they whispered about Boromir bringing a lady to their tavern. Faramir, arriving shortly after, seemed prepared for a night of dealing with his drunken brother, only to find himself pleasantly surprised by his brother's apparent sobriety and the joy the unknown woman seemed to bring to his melancholy soul.

Yet, amid the cheerful atmosphere, a pair of shifting gray eyes belonging to an old man that (Y/N) recognized as Iwar, kept her uneasy heart alert.

…..

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alligatorstomachacid · 9 months

Note

can i have a gaz x medic!m reader plz(⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

where as gaz keeps moving and not staying still and being all pissy and reader is just over with his shit and kisses him to shut him up and make him stay still .. :3

(this ask is so cringe but please considee(⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) )

I love this 😍! This is male reader. It's fluff! Fem alined may interact but don't fetishize my writing! Mentions of: Blood, being shot, needles/stitches.

"We need a medic stat! Gaz has been shot!" Price radios.

"On it Captain, be there shortly!" You radio back. You start to run to the coordinates you've been given. You carefully enter the building. You jog down the hall as quietly as possible to make sure you don't alert any hostiles. You look down the hall to see a room, Price peeking out. He waves you down, quickly racing to him.

"Will you be fine M/N? I need to get back out there." Price asks. You give him a nod. He pats your shoulder and leaves. You turn to see Gaz on the floor leaning against a knocked over file cabinet. You approach him, kneeling in front of him.

"Gaz." This causes Gaz to look up at you. He seems tired and sick looking.

"Good to see you're still awake. Tell me where you've been hurt." You grab your first aid kit and start taking the necessary items out.

"I was shot in my side." Gaz murmurs moving his hand to show where he was hit. It's bloody and it seems the bullet is still in his body. You lift his shirt and start poking around to get a better idea of the wound. Gaz squirms, refusing to sit still.

"Stop moving Gaz. I need to get a good look at this wound." Your tone is stern. You take the areas around the hole and stretch it, trying to see if you can make out the bullet.

"Could ya be gentle? That hurts a lot yknow." Gaz complains. You sigh and grab an alcohol wipe and some tweezers.

"Oh be quiet, I'm being very gentle. You make it difficult with your squirming and complaints. Now stay still." You grab a syringe of pain meds. I stab it into his thigh. Gaz let's out a hiss of pain shooting a glare at you, which you ignore.

"This is gonna sting." You put the alcohol wipe to his wound, Gaz immediately grabs your hand to stop you, letting out a small hiss of pain when you accidentally jab him with your finger.

"Gaz! Could you stop being a baby? I'm trying to help you. My patience is wearing very thin." You move his hand away and start to clean his wound. Gaz squirms as you wipe the wound. He's making this much harder than it needs to be.

"That hurts!" Gaz whines, you roll your eyes and grab your tweezers. You turn on your light that's on your helmet and move closer to the area he got shot. You try to see where the bullet is so you can take it out. You gently poke around to see if you can feel it. This makes Gaz let out moans of pain, and complaints. He's really wearing your patience down.

"You're being to rough, do you always work like this-" You catch him off guard by grabbing his face and placing a deep kiss on his lips. Your chests pressed against each other's. Gaz is now leaning back against the file cabinet. After a few moments you pull away.

"Now hush and let me work. If I hear another complaint from you I'll knock you out." Gaz is in shock, he can only nod in response. You lean down and start to try to remove the bullet. He groans and shifts a bit, but no more complaints. You manage to remove the bullet so you proceed to the next step which is stitching him up. You prepare the thread and needle and start stitching. Gaz let's out a hiss of pain when you start but once youre half way he seems to have gotten used to the feeling.

You finish up stitching the wound. You grab a bandage and patch him up. You clean up quickly and radio in to Price saying that Gaz is good to go.

"Good, I'll be there shortly so we can head to the safe house. I'll help you get Gaz there. Be there soon." Price responds after a moment. You place a kiss on Gaz's cheek as a reward and smile.

"Good job at staying still. Hope youre like that next time I have to patch you up." You smile and pat Gaz's shoulder. Gaz nods in shock once more from your kiss. His face is a shade of pink. Maybe he'll have to visit you more at the med bay on base to see if he can get more rewards for his cooperation.

___

Hi! I hoped you liked this! I'll try and post a lot and get through my drafts and inbox. Requests are still open!

#asks open #male reader #gay #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #cod x male reader #cod gaz #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #gaz x reader #gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz call of duty #gaz x male reader #gaz x you

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simpingland · 8 months

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I WILL BE SEATED FOR YOUR ZALAGON FIC!!!! (plz take all the time u need!!!! I love your writing sm <3)

The Duty To Protect // Aemond Targaryen x Male!Reader. Part 2

Summary: after years as lovers in Essos, the peace is ended when they call for war. Aemond is left with the task of staying in the castle while he has to see the love of his life leave for battle. Angst +fluff. Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sharp sound of clashing swords had become distant in your head. Still sweaty from training, the king's words were hard to take in. And you could only think of one person, Aemond. In your imagination a thousand things happened that ended up throwing him to the ground, wounded and dead. And then you felt that you could die too, because then you would never be able to walk around your castle again, or your mountains, or even breathe like before. For more than three years now, all you breathed in and exalted was his essence.

"Son..." said your father, in the sweetest tone you had ever heard him use. "This is your duty, to protect your people. Tell me you understand."

"I understand, father." Something came back to you at the word protect. "And I will do it well. I swear this. But I have a request, and only you can order it."

He accepted your request and patted you lovingly on the shoulder and let you go. But you didn't know where to go. You wanted to go back to your Prince, but on the other hand you wanted to let him enjoy the peace that remained in his mind. So you decided to watch him from the top of the tower, where the view of the training yard let you see how he was still training. You could tell him he was training too hard, but when you trained together, he was anything but productive. You were always his biggest distraction, because you were all about talking, playing with swords and shields, and besides, Aemond felt incapable of causing you any harm. And that also included saying "no" to training together. There were few things he could say no to. And it was for that very reason that you now debated whether to tell him the news now or to delay it. There had to be a way to stop him from flying with you into battle, but Aemond would not leave you alone, and that did not reassure you.

You saw your little sister scamper around the castle, kicking you as she passed behind you and laughing on her way to kick Aemond again. Aemond was able to catch her foot, stopping her and capturing her in his arms.

"Another princess bent on distracting my training, I see," Aemond said as your sister laughed.

"Can you teach me how to fight this time?" she asked, that was her daily question, she asked it at every opportune occasion and the answer was the same.

"You are still very little, but I swear I will teach you." The prince spoke to her as if she was an adult, taking her wishes seriously.

"You always say that. But you only help my brother..." then your sister looked in your direction, and you saw Aemond turn his head as well. You saw his mischievous grin appear.

"That's because your brother doesn't have much talent. He needs it more than you do. And you need to learn to read before you learn to fight."

That made you smile. Many nights, Aemond was slow to return to bed (or often to your bed) because he entertained himself by helping your brothers with their reading. His soft voice soothed them and he had much more patience for them than the maester and septas. Sometimes he would read to you on nights when you found it hard to sleep, and of course, any lesson explained by Aemond was much easier to understand, and you were distracted by that magnificent face of his.

You went down to where he was, and he began to pick up his sword. Your sister disappeared again as she found a playmate.

"I'm sorry she's such a pain," you apologised.

"Don't be silly, I like that she has initiative. You could learn it from her..."

You helped him pack up, and inside the vast weapons store, you and Aemond found yourselves alone. Then, with the morning light streaming in, the solitude of the place and both of you glowing from the exercise, you couldn't help but grab Aemond's cheeks to close the distance with a kiss. It was more intense than those you gave each other outside the walls of your rooms. It was a serene, deep kiss, and your need was palpable. Normally, between training sessions, you were also given to displays of affection, with calculated rubs on his shoulder or face, and the occasional peck when no one was looking. And in the face of that affection, Aemond would only blush and promise to repay you for the distraction in private. But you weren't flirting now.

"What is it, my prince?" Aemond had broken off and watched your face for whatever it was that had affected you.

"Nothing, it's just... I wanted to kiss you."

"Yeah... but there's something else."

You had to tell him. There is no person better qualified in those matters than Aemond. He had noticed it himself, and he would know better than anyone what to tell you to win a battle.

"Braavos doesn't want to negotiate any more. And neither does my father." It was enough for him to understand. And Aemond kept a distance.

"Are we at war?"

"Seven days from now there will be a battle. My father believes we outnumber their men and that the dragons will secure us--"

"Don't go," he interrupted.

"What?"

"Don't go. You can't go, they'll kill you." His tone was curt, bordering on insult.

"I must go. It's my duty as heir." You tried to forget his lack of faith in you.

"Then I will go with you."

"You can't. You must stay here, taking care of my siblings and my mother."

"What am I, a fucking septa?" He began to raise his voice.

"Don't get offended, It's you who thinks I'm not ready for battle."

"The reality is that you shouldn't go, especially not without me."

"The reality is that I am the one who will reign here and I have the power to decide about you."

"Are you ordering me to stay here because I have offended you?"

"I'm ordering you to stay because I don't want to look like a weakling in need of protection in front of the men I'm supposed to protect." That was a half-truth.

"For my duty to you is to be honest with you, and I know that if you leave you will not return."

"They won't dare to kill me on the back of a dragon."

"You could do it. They'd find a way to bring you down. You are distracted, clumsy, and you have never faced men willing to kill you before." Aemond's eyes seemed unwilling to look at you, and he remained overly serious, forcibly serious.

"This is what I have been trained for, and there is nothing that will stop me. Least of all you." You spat that last word at him as an insult, for he was offending you with his every word.

Without looking back, you left that room that held good memories except for this scene. It had not been your first argument, but Aemond had never been one of the dozens of people who doubted your ability. And to see that his biggest complaint at seeing you go was that he thought you were useless was painful enough. The rest of the day was spent avoiding him in the corridors, turning a deaf ear to your name on his lips when he saw you. In the evening, gathered in the room where your father conducted his business, he was able to sit across from you.

You paid little attention to the map, nor to your father's words, but when you turned to look at Aemond, he was attentive. He would certainly make a leader a thousand times better than you, too bad life wasn't the other way around.

"Prince Aemond," your father addressed him, "I presume you have been informed that we wish you to remain guarding the castle and the family."

"Aye, my lord. And so I will. Though it is not a role that makes me feel satisfied, your son needs reinforcements."

"I do not need them!" Your loud voice surprised the others, you were not known for your anger, nor your hostility towards the prince. And yet only Aemond seemed to put on a calm face.

"I need a proper rider," your father continued to speak, trying to ignore your anger. "And you, Aemond, are a competent swordsman, and my family trusts you. Though you may be sure that I also agree with you that my son should be helped...he is barely capable of paying attention."

That was what ended up causing you to leave the room. Ignoring your father calling you back. You wished Aemond had left behind you, but only your footsteps could be heard, and Aemond stayed in the room, with a pain in his chest at seeing you hurt and knowing that he was a cause of it.

Alone in your room you found no distractions, the sheets were still disheveled and you found a belt decorated with a dragon. You picked it up with the intention of throwing it out of sight, but ended up sleeping with the silver in your hand. And that's how Aemond found you. His weight was noticeable on the bed, and his scent made you open your eyes. Your back was turned to him, so you could only notice his hand stroking your hair and his lips planting a kiss on your neck.

"Are you sleeping?" he asked in a whisper.

"Not anymore" you whispered back.

Then he pushed you gently, turning your body to face his. Immediately his face was on top of you. And any anger was stupid in the sight of that image.

"Your father doesn't know what he's doing."

"It's not my father who offends me."

"Well, he does to me." Aemond returned to his serious and annoyed countenance, but not looking at you.

"You are very much alike. I discovered today that perhaps you are too much alike." Your tone remained unsympathetic.

"You know that's not true. Everything I do here I do for you, not for him."

"Because I'm useless..."

"No, that's not why, listen to me!" he put his hand on your cheek, begging you to look at him carefully. "It's so easy to spend my days helping you be a good heir. Teaching you things, waking up with you and sleeping with you. Being by your side makes me happy. So happy that I forget that this won't last forever. And when someone reminds me that we're not the same, that I can't protect you, that I can't help you...I feel like dying at the thought."

Then a tear fell and ended up on the collar of your shirt. You had never seen him cry before, though you had never been sent into battle before. You sat up, as if to remind him that he could lean on you.

"Aemond..." you could think of no words of comfort. It had always been you who annoyed him with displeasure and he always had the right words. He fiddled his hands on the sheets.

"We have to run away!" He said suddenly. "Let's fly away from here, explore Essos and create another dynasty..."

"And let my ancestor's die?" You interrupted him. He then seemed to snap out of that strange fantasy. "We may have been alone at first...but not anymore. I know you're nervous, but you're not thinking about my siblings. Nor my mother."

Aemond was slow to speak, the tears continued.

"You're right. I just disgraced myself..."

"Don't say that, it's not true." You took his face in your hands then, his eyes shining and one of them drenched in tears. "I'm scared too."

"Then let me go with you."

"No!" You put your forehead against his. "No...they need you, and I need you. If something were to happen to you in battle rest assured that I wouldn't survive much longer...you said it yourself, I'm distracted and clumsy." You said it half-jokingly, but Aemond felt a twinge of pain at the memory of his words.

"I don't want you to go...there always has to be another alternative. We'll come up with something..."

"I don't want another alternative. I want to protect my people. I want you to be proud of me."

"I'd rather be ashamed of you for years if it will keep you in this room with me forever."

You smiled at his comment, and he missed it. You gave him a short kiss, tasting his salty tears.

"That's not true, you're not like that. A great man deserves another great man. And I like that. A Prince with the mind of a king and the will of a warrior. I want you to be proud and look at me with that sternness and calmness of yours."

Then he smiled, shaking his head. You already knew what he was like perfectly, his sincere smiles were only for you, but his respect and affection showed in the seriousness he took in dealing with the people in question. To none of your siblings did he speak condescendingly, always taking into account their intelligence. With your mother he was gentle, and listened to her patiently and quietly. And with your father, he smiled, falsely, a short, toothless smile. And when you were finally back in your intimacy, his hair would fall down on his back, his laughter would be strange but familiar, and you would let him be awkward and bulnerable. And back in the daylight he was still as graceful and grand as the first day you met him.

He let you take off the ribbon that held his hair, and he also let you unbutton his tight clothes. That night, as on many others, you made love. But mostly, as you stroked his hair, he touched and twirled the rings on your other hand, talking until the sun began to appear. He always fell asleep first, and that night you saw him wake up too. Almost for a while you could forget the dangers that lurked.

In the days before the battle, every occasion was appropriate to steal a moment of each other's time, kissing in the corridors, studying in the library, exploring the woods, bathing in the rivers... and when you saw him eating dinner with your family, you found real comfort, for you knew well that they would be safe, and happy too.

"Is your armour heavy?" he asked as he put it on. Already the horn had sounded, warning of the enemy's arrival. His gaze was focused on the bindings and chains, avoiding your face.

"No...but of course the way you're tightening it, I'm going to need help getting it off."

Aemond let out a breath, and began to loosen it. You could see his sadness. He too was protected, and dressed to fly if need be. His hands were still nimble, but you knew he was taking his time on purpose. When he finished, he put his head on your chest and his arms around you, stroking your back, and you enjoyed his closeness.

"I'm coming back, Aemond...and everything will be even better than before." Your lips brushed his hair, and he closed his eyes in a nod.

"If you ask me right now, we can run away from here," he suggested again.

You pulled up his face to kiss him as an answer. An intense kiss that brought you closer together. Aemond tugged at your armour, and you felt his silver hair fill your hands. His tongue sought yours, and were it not for the trumpets outside, you would have spent yet another day lying in bed.

You said goodbye at the castle gates, where your mother embraced you, and where your siblings had to be separated to let you go. As your only farewell to your lover, under the gaze of the court you had to settle for pressing your foreheads together while he caressed the back of your neck and you caressed his cheek. You managed to whisper a few words in his ear.

"When I come back I will tell you of the glory and how much I love you" and you kissed the sapphire that decorated his face.

With your brothers clinging to his waist, Aemond looked up to watch you fly, Zālagon roaring in response to the roars of Vhagar, who was begging to fly with him, missing him as much as Aemond already missed you.

#house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen reader #Aemond targaryan x male!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye

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tenderfxck · 1 year

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I need more alhaitham fics in ur writing plz god…. bully him bully him bully him public teasing which makes him very flustered??.? I’m just ranting at this point anws love ur writing ✍️

al haitham//distraction from argument//gn!reader//18+

contents: flustered!al haitham, pent up!al haitham, gn!reader, exhibitionism, handjob, alcohol mention, drinking, al haitham being put in his place <3

word count: 2.3k

notes: i've been itching to write another fic where i get to tease haitham. enjoy <333 (and thanks to @bobaboob for listening to my crazed ramblings as well as beta reading this fic!)

it’s a warm summer night at lambad's tavern and you find yourself seated in a booth in between the two arguably brightest minds of recent akademia history.

well, they were supposed to be bright. but even with you in their presence, they weren’t courteous enough to keep their bickering to themselves.

to your right sat the great architect and your best friend, kaveh. both of you were kind souls who bonded over the more beautiful things in life (as well as kept each other up to date with all the drama in sumeru city. so what if the two of you were gossips?)

and on your left sat the grand scribe, al haitham. you and al haitham were-

well. . .

enemies? rivals? annoyances to each other?

ah, yes. let’s settle on that. any more analysis would call into question if each tense moment the two of you had shared in passing was just animosity or something more. . .

at this point, you think they were hashing it out over some household chores or some other domestic affair. who ever thought those two could ever be roommates?

while sitting between two grown men arguing like a married couple is usually great entertainment, today you were quite over it. and quite bored.

but this was a bar, wasn’t it? you chose to focus your attention on polishing off your own drink as they continued this little disagreement of theirs. and when your glass was empty, you pivoted to sneaking sips from their neglected drinks.

well, until al haitham shooed you from his glass. of course. he was oblivious enough to (rudely) ignore you for the last fifteen minutes but yet he was keenly aware of you emptying his drink. damn scribe. . .

you sighed. you had completely lost the plot of this little spat a few minutes ago and had no patience to dare decipher where in the hell it had led. resigned to your fate stuck between the two, you pick up the bottle of liquor sitting in the middle of the table, planning to drown your boredom in another stiff drink.

"-and that's why you're being completely irrational." al haitham stated bluntly, pushing his freshly polished off drink towards you.

"i'm being irrational?" kaveh scoffed, pushing his empty glass towards you as well. "have you even been listening to yourself?"

they hold a tense stare for a few seconds, before whipping their heads to face you.

"who do you think is right?" they snap in union.

"i think you both need a drink." you sigh, tipping the bottle and filling both their glasses with a healthy dose of liquor.

. . .

this had continued for a while. bicker, bicker, fill their glasses, bicker, bicker, more shots, so on, so forth.

you still had no idea what they were arguing about, but it proved a LOT more fun to watch them keep at it all the while becoming more and more intoxicated.

al haitham’s never been much of a drinker. even in his akademy years when some students chose to let loose on the weekends, he preferred to stay in, instead engaging himself with a good book. only a few drinks in and he can feel the flush cross his features. kaveh wasn't faring much better, definitely slurring his words and swaying ever so slightly.

“what do you think?" kaveh slumps against you, resting his weight on your shoulder in hopes of keeping himself steady. "you can't possibly think haitham’s being reasonable.”

“nonsense, my point is perfectly just.” al haitham sits back against the booth and crosses his arms.

they both looked at you expectantly, equally sure that you'd come to each of their aid.

"i think kaveh is making more sense."

watching al haitham's face drop was priceless. granted, you had zero idea what you were even agreeing with kaveh on. but the look of disbelief that al haitham made no effort to suppress confirms your suspicion he's typically used to most (other than his hard-headed roommate) agreeing with him at the drop of a hat.

"you're not even affiliated with the akademia," he bit back after collecting himself once again. "and your thoughts on such matters are inconsequential." al haitham goes to take another swig but finds his glass empty yet again, dropping it back onto the table with little grace before he regards you and kaveh with a certain distaste in his voice. "you artsy types love to have an opinion on everything, don't you?"

you place a hand to your chest in fake offense, unable to suppress a teasing smile. "inconsequential? a well-rounded person should recognize that relying purely on a scholarly view of the world is a detrimental one."

. . .fuck. al haitham was normally weary of rousing you but he mistakenly dug himself this grave. he cursed the alcohol for making him so careless.

"i have opinions on the akademia's actions just as i have opinions on the importance of the arts. what about you, grand scribe?"

"what?" he stiffens in his seat. when did this become a discussion about him?

"what are your view on accessibility of the arts? recognition and comprehension among citizens?" kaveh covers his mouth, poorly hiding his giggles as you laid into the increasingly tense scribe. "what about you, haitham? do you think the akademia is properly instructed in artistic literacy?"

al haitham had a sharp intellect. but not as sharp as your wit.

"I, uh. . . w-well. . ."

“so you have no opinion." you let a devious smile tug at your lips, addressing al haitham with a look of faux pity. "how disappointing. to think the akademia holds you in such high regard and yet you have neglected such a large area of expertise.”

this always seemed to be an ace in the hole for you. using whatever rhetoric he attempts to argue and your gilded tongue to throw it right back at him.

“when your pride allows you to be open to a conversation outside of your area of expertise, let me know. maybe we can have a more stimulating conversation.” you spit, taking up your glass of liquor once again.

“stop that.” al haitham huffs.

“stop what?”

“that. that- thing you always do.”

“eloquent as ever.” you sigh. kaveh snickers behind your other shoulder, and al haitham responds by staring daggers right over the other at him. “haitham, you have to be more clear.”

he grunts in frustration, turning away from the two of you. you were truly skilled at this feigned innocence. the kind that taunted al haitham, just enough to entice him into playing straight into your hand, just to get teased even more. but he chose to keep that observation to himself.

"you purposefully distract me." is what he settles on.

"i distract you? how so?"

“your words. you twist mine and then goad me on purpose.”

“that’s barely a distraction, mr. scribe.” you chuckle, shifting in your seat. al haitham dutifully ignores how you brush against him. “but if it’s truly my words that prove a disturbance to you, i’ll keep quiet. surely you’ll easily best kaveh then, hm?”

“surely.” he bites back.

a self-satified look returns to him as you, as promised, shut up, instead busying yourself with refreshing your drink.

al haitham’s attention was quickly stolen by a fresh jab from kaveh about how “distracted” he could be, falling so easily back into their regular song and dance of bickering. he was once again far too caught up in this spat to notice the look you were giving him over the rim of your glass, an evil plan forming behind your pretty eyes.

when he first felt your hand graze his thigh he barely registered it. you were in close proximity anyway, seated right between him and his debate partner for the night.

the second was harder to ignore, your palm sitting atop his leg and stroking down ever so slowly. he stumbled a bit on his next words, but put it out of his mind to recover just enough to keep laying into kaveh.

it was only when your hand trailed between his thighs, grasping between his legs, rubbing his crotch with feather light dexterity when he became painfully aware of your wandering hands.

he froze, mouth opening and closing as he felt his body temperature climb a degree or two.

"ha! so you really have nothing left to say." kaveh gloated, a smug expression crossing his features.

"like hell, you still- ggh!" you squeezed a little firmer this time, feeling his cock stir beneath your touch. you could see how his chest now began to noticeably rise and fall, no doubt his heart beating ever so quicker with how you stroked his hardening length. you licked your lips, savoring each little reaction you pulled from him, made all the more sweet with how he tries so desperately to hide them.

"that doesn't sound like a rebuttal to me, haitham." kaveh laughs, grasping his glass to take a celebratory swig.

al haitham grits his teeth. his attention is divided between his unshakable urge to one-up kaveh, and the slow, purposeful drag of your fingers under the table. the fabric of his pants starts to tent under your hand, al haitham grunting at the now suffocating tightness of them.

he swallows, takes a deep breath, and dissects kaveh’s last few points with precision. albeit, a little more breathlessly than usual.

so this was your game. If you couldn’t distract him with words. . .

a soft palm reaching down his pants causes haitham to jerk so hard he almost knocks over his glass.

. . .you seemed to have other means.

you were kind enough to rid him of his binding clothes after a few excruciating minutes of teasing caresses, dragging his cock out of his restrictive pants and exposing it to the cool air of the tavern.

he worried his lower lip as you paid special attention to his now throbbing cock, tilting his head back in a sigh as you grabbed him again, now stroking him earnestly.

he sits there, still attempting to argue with his roommate. truly trying to act like everything is fine. but his heart is thumping in his chest so intensely you swear you can feel it as well. he tries to take deep, steadying breaths, but it feels like every time he opens his mouth he has to close it immediately, or else a shuddering noise will escape his trembling lips.

archons, does it feel so good watch him crumble.

you pump him under the table at a steady pace, paying oh so close attention to every sharp inhale and every twitch of his body as he melts in your hands. you only slow when he seems like he’s about to burst at the seams, instead choosing to stroke his inner thighs with teasingly light touches or fondle his heavy balls. and at any moment it seems like he’s regained an iota of composure, wondering if he can still best you, you take a thumb to his sensitive tip, grinding intense little circles into the head of his cock sending such cute little tremors through his whole body.

kaveh takes a glance at his squirming roommate, noticing that al haitham is white knuckling the table as their bickering goes on. he takes satisfaction in the knowledge he's stirred haitham up so much, but only you truly know why.

it builds and builds, threatening to careen off that edge of restraint al haitham keeps himself bound to so diligently.

he tries to ignore the obvious. but his mind cant help but flash back to last night when he was fucking his fist, imagining it was your hand teasing him so. and now it’s happening, for real, all right in front of him and all of the bar's patrons if they paid any closer attention to the writhing scribe.

al haitham never stood a chance.

“haitham~” you breathe out, so close that it tickles the shell of his ear. he attempts to bite his lip to content the whine that would otherwise escape. “why don't you admit that kaveh has a point? then this whole affair can be finished.” you whisper that last word, giving him an especially drawn out stroke to his twitching length, clearly conveying your intent.

“f-fine.” al haitham stutters, now slumped against the table in front of him, praying it will give him even just a little support. “you’re right. . .” he heaves, unconcerned about his stupid pride. he doesn't care about winning any more. “you’re right!” his voice pitches, feeling your fleeting touches turn steady and fast, pumping his aching cock so fucking good as he finally concedes. “i’m wrong, just- just!”

he gasps, finally, finally cumming after what felt like hours of teasing. your hand remains firm, stroking him through it while the scribe crumbles in on himself, twitching and biting back moans. he’s sure his release was so intense it hit the underside of the table. but he doesn’t dare open his eyes to check, certain he’ll meet his roommate's confused expression, or the satisfied one you’re surely wearing.

when he finally does regain enough mental faculties to sit upright again, he can see kaveh across the bar, paying of the tab while happily spouting something about “finally besting that damn bastard.”

his eyes drift up. you’re wearing a sweet, albeit just a bit smug, smile.

“i’m glad you finally came around, mr. scribe.”

kaveh circles back to you, face flushed and cheery as can be. “let’s take this back to our place. The two of us will treat you to a thorough lecture on the arts as a reward for being so humble, haitham”

“you go on ahead, i’ll catch up with you.” kaveh regards him quizzically, but al haitham can only look past him. “i need a moment to. . .” you throw him one last glance before removing yourself from the booth, but not before he can catch you bringing a thumb stained with release to your mouth, licking the last bit of evidence on your person away. he’s reminded of the uncomfortable mess currently staining his abdomen and running slick down his thighs.

“. . .organize my thoughts."

#teasing al haitham: the saga continues #im spreading my best friend kaveh propaganda #al haitham x you #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x y/n #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham smut #alhaitham smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #tender library

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starsurface · 3 months

Note

these are great :) Plz plz mk1 headcanons for care-giver Liu Kang with a baby regressor

Oh my goodness, Liu Kang would be such a great CG!!!

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Lord Liu Kang w/ Babyspace Regressor Hcs

🌟 Ugh, he's such a good CG :(

🌟 Another CG that does really good with almost all ages too!!

🌟 But absolutely adores baby regressors (guys they're so cute, come on 🥺)

🌟 Favorite CG nicknames are Dada, Papa, Liu-Liu, or honestly just babbling and grabby hands for him (he finds it adorable)

🌟 But will be absolutely floored if you called him any kind of CG indication nickname!!!

🌟 Favorite nicknames for you are Firestarter, Starlight, Sunshine, Baby, Sweetie, Honey, Little One, my Flame, Tiny Fire 🥺

🌟 If your nonverbal or just like babbling more than talking, he's actually very good at finding out what you want rather quickly

🌟 Tummy time is one of his favorite activities, especially if you lay on his chest (finds it really funny when you try to eat his nose at times)

🌟 Since your a baby, you can't really meditate with him, but it's another good opportunity for play mat tummy time that he'll have installed into his personal room

🌟 If you wanna try to meditated, he's very encouraging!!!

🌟 (^ But we all know either your going to pass out on his lap or slowly chew on all his fingers)

🌟 Very good and gentle with biters or chewers

🌟 Mostimes he'll just remind you that we don't bite and tease on whether your a baby or an monkey (meanie >:(

🌟 Will get you a super cute paci that's all decorated based off your favorite animal, or a dragon

🌟 I can see him really liking storytime, but acting out storytime (especially if he gets to pretend to be a dragon for whatever reason)

🌟 He's not very good at acting the parts, but he always gets you to giggle and clap your hands happily, so its always fun in the end

🌟 Very soft with padded regressors

🌟 Any accidents don't need a big fuss or a big cry about, it's all okay, Dade's here to help <3

🌟 If your a naughty baby that thrives off testing his patience? Psh, good luck, this man's patience levels are through the roof!!

🌟 Man has a constant watch over you, always making sure you aren't getting into too much trouble

🌟 Your safety is his number one concern, so matter how much you whine or pout

🌟 Very on dot with the rules unless your this tiny, because he understands that you might not know exactly what your doing wrong

🌟 Still won't let you eat more candy than necessary though >:/

🌟 Really easily persuade like Nightwolf though, just sit and look at the ground going ‘🥺’ and you'll get whatever candy you want >:3

🌟 Another big outside encourager

🌟 Will take you to his favorite hill with a blanket and some soft toys and you two can have a picnic!! :D

🌟 Even though this man's already very gentle with you, he becomes extremely gentle when it comes to naptime

🌟 There's not much fussing over naptime unfortunately :(

🌟 He'll set up a small naptime routine you two do together (put all the toys away, brush teeth, brush hair, get into soft jammies)

🌟 If you don't own any jammies, he will go out of his way and get you the nicest pair of jammies he can find (will probably do this if you do anyways, so you can match!!)

🌟 Amazing cuddles, especially in the winter!! He runs more warmer since he's the God of fire

🌟 Might suck a bit during the summers but he'll at least hold your hand or have one arm on you if you're too hot

🌟 If you regress negatively for any reason or just overall feel icky that day, he's very comforting

🌟 Rocking you, focusing all his time and attention on you, trying to make any bad thoughts or memories go away

🌟 He's very set on making sure his baby feels a little bit better by the end of the day, even if he has to do the most silliest things to make you happy <3

🌟 If you attempt any of his super awesome ninja moves while small he might just have a heart attack

🌟 Especially since your a bit too young to be attempting ANY of his really awesome moves :(

🌟 But if you lay on your back and do something similar to his bicycle kick, he'll look very proud in you

🌟 If you made him anything while small, he's keeping it and cherishing it like it's an artifact from ancient blah blah blah

🌟 Even if it was just a piece of paper with two wiggle lines because you got bored!! It's hanging on his wall and he's very proud of it

🌟 Is really good with hissy fits and getting you to calm down

🌟 Will walk around the room and bounce you

🌟 Generally just likes having you in his arms, your his baby after all <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

He's so Dad coded, I love him. :3

#age regression #agere #sfw age regression #age regression headcanons #mortal kombat agere #sfw agere #mk1 #mk1 headcanons #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat 1 headcanons #liu kang #mk1 liu kang #lord liu kang #cg liu kang #caregiver liu kang #mk agere #liu kang x reader #lord Liu Kang x reader #mk1 liu kang x reader

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danikamariewrites · 8 months

Note

Headcanons (fluff & smut) for being in a mated throuple with Lucien & Tamlin? Is this unhinged? Idk I just love them both so much! 🤭

Lucien x Tamlin x reader relationship headcanon

A/n: this is unhinged but so am I (I firmly believe Tamlin and Lucien have kissed before maybe more idk) plz don’t jump me for these Tamlin thoughts if you don’t like them 😭 writing this in public was a choice help

Warnings: smut at the end as usual lol

They would be two different kinds of love

Tamlin is a gift giver and his love language is touch

He loves having you close so he can hold your hand or wrap an arm around your waist

Quality time with Tamlin is just sitting together talking or comfortable silence

Tamlin is a homebody so he doesn’t like venturing out too far unless he’s familiar

Quality time with Lucien is going on adventures

Horse back riding through parts of Spring that you haven’t explored yet

Lucien loves surprising you whether it’s gifts or a new place

When you started dating them you weren’t used to being spoiled

No one had ever gave you so much love and attention like they do

You weren’t used to asking for things but after they told you it was ok to want stuff you had no problem with it

You want new clothes? Tamlin has the tailor come over immediately so you can pick out fabrics and patterns

New books? Lucien is taking you in town to your favorite bookstore

When it comes to emotional stuff you go to Lucien (sry Tamlin we all know ur not great with feelings babe)

Lucien always knows what to say when you’re upset or angry

He lets you cry even if your tears stain his shirt he does not care

He just cares that you’re ok and cared for

Time spent with all 3 of you is always on the weekends

Tamlin and Lucien are both so busy during the week you just want their undivided attention by the end of the week

You don’t care if you sleep in or go out as long as you’re with them

Smutty thoughts

Lucien is the more attentive lover

Tamlin is bigger tho

You both have to teach Tamlin patience in bed

When he trusts you both enough to be the dominant ones it’s some of the best sex you’ve ever had together

Tamlin’s hands were tied above his head to the headboard

Lucien had already made you cum with his fingers

The more Tamlin whined the longer you two took

When he finally was patient that’s when you paid attention to him

You sat on his face and he ate you like a man starved

You pulled at his long blonde hair and gave him words of encouragement, telling him he was doing such a good job (he has a praise kink ik it)

Lucien was sucking Tamlin’s cock and his moans felt so good against you

Once you were done you both took care of Tamlin and let him sleep in the middle so you both could hold him

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #tamlin #tamlin acotar #Tamlin x you #tamlin x reader #Tamlin headcanon #lucien vanserra #lucien headcanons #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra headcanon #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x you #lucien acotar

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hoewkeye · 2 years

Note

For your event #45 nsfw promt for Peter ballerd plz

Also congrats btw

Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this one <3

Pairing: Peter Ballard/001 x Reader

Summary: Reader and Peter reunite after Peter’s punished for helping Eleven.

Tags: slight smut, mention of murder, Peter IS a warning

Word Count: 277

This is for my 200 followers celebration!

Rage moved the both of you as you tried to unbutton his shirt while his tongue traced a path on your neck, tasting the salty flavor of your sweat and despair to undress him quickly. Your hands knew his white uniform well for the multiple times you've had him pressed against your body.

“I've missed you so much,” he muttered, his breath on your skin making you shiver, and you finally took his shirt off. “You've no idea.”

He pushed you off him cautiously, walking towards you and cornering you between him and a table. Knowing exactly what he wanted, you sat on the table, opening your legs so he could adjust himself between them while kissing you again, devouring you.

“I've missed you too,” you said when your lips separated, planting a kiss on his bare shoulder. “Help me take these pants off,” you pleaded and he did so, pulling them off your body with little to no patience, squeezing your bodies close together again as soon as you were just wearing your underwear.

Peter grabbed your chin, forcing you to look straight at his eyes that shone with lust and anger. “I'll never let them take me from you again. I belong to you and you belong to me, and I'll kill whoever gets in my way.”

You should've paid attention, but you didn't. You just let him kiss you once more, his fingers now playing with the fabric of your underwear, massaging your clothed core and getting moans from you. All that you could remember when he slid the first finger inside you was that you belonged to him — and he belonged to you.

#blues200celebration #blue writes #peter ballard #peter ballard x reader #001 x reader #001 #stranger things #stranger things 4 #jamie campbell bower #jamie campbell #jamie bower #jamie campbell bower x reader #blue writes for stranger things #stranger things spoilers

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skyartworkzzz · 2 months

Text

📢 LADIES, GENTLEMEN, THOSE IN AND OUT BETWEEN, I PRESENT YOU.............

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THAT'S RIGHT!!!!!!!

WE ARE OPEN FOR BUSINESS!!!!!!!

👇 👇 👇 CHECK OUT THESE COOL PRICES BELOW 👇 👇 👇

📢 COME AND REALIZE YOUR CREATIVE DREAMS AT SKY'S OFFICE

HAND ME YOUR OC, FAVORITE CHARACTER, OTP, PET ANIMAL, WHATEVER YOU WANT AND WE (singular) WILL MAKE IT COME TO LIFE!!!!!!!

📢 BUT HOLDUP!!!!! WATCH OUT FOR THESE REGULATIONS 👇 👇 👇

✅ I WILL DRAW: - Furries - Ship art (self-insert and OC x canon included, dont be shy to ask!) - Blood and/or slight gore - Simple mecha (small guns, tech devices etc) - Fanarts - Suggestive content (depending on what it is, I might allow it) - Simple backgrounds

❌ I WILL NOT DRAW: - NSFW - Hateful concepts (racism, sexism, trans/homophobia etc) - Pedo- - Zoo- - Incest - Abuse of any kind - Complex mecha (big guns, detailed robots etc) - Complex backgrounds (too many buildings, too many people, too much going on is a no) - Logos or business cards

Any further questions plz ask me! <3

PAYMENT IS CURRENTLY DONE THROUGH PAYPAL ONLY!! I will be asking for it FIRST before handing u the art Ive put my blood and sweat into making 😌

HERE IS MY CARRD IN CASE YOUD LIKE A MORE COMPLETE GUIDELINE:

THANK YOU ALL EVER SO MUCH FOR YOU ATTENTION, PATIENCE AND SUPPORT 💜💜💜

Reblogs are appreciated! DM me if interested, love yall! 🦧

(Disclaimer: I will be normal when discussing ur order I promise, just thought it was funny to promo my work this way-)

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girlboybug · 10 months

Text

trash magic

"boy, you wanna hold me down and tell me that you love me?"

or the one where you get a tattoo for joel and he shows you just how much he appreciates it.

what’s playing 🎧 trash magic by lana del rey

pairing : joel miller x reader

word count : 2k

*unedited*

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, joel is sooo super turned on by your tattoo, size kink, overstimulation, mentions of unspecified age gap, unprotected sex, tit-fucking, lots of heavy petting/groping, praise and hints of degrading, joel is a dirty depraved man muahaha

TRIGGER WARNINGS : uhh none come to mind but if there’s something that is triggering plz let me know. otherwise enjoy <3

a/n : hi guys i’m so sorry it took me FOREVER to update, i just wanted to post smth small bc i felt bad abt my lack of presence on here. i wanna say thank u so much for the love and support on my work it means the absolute WORLD to me. life has just been so draining and writing has fallen to the back burner and i HATE it but here, i hope this slightly makes up for it, i promise i have a lot in store!!

it had been just a little over a month. a little over a month without joel was time spent cruelly—longingly. and in all honesty, most people in jackson wondered why you were so distraught over his lack of presence, unable to comprehend why a young, pretty girl spent all her time trailing behind a stone-faced old man. but he was your stone-faced old man. his hard glare, monotone responses and hands that were perpetually stuck in fists, were all aspects you loved about him, despite the fact that they seemed to act as a wall to block everyone out. but what people didn’t realize was that those walls came right back down the second it came to you.

you figured their judgment lied in the point of view that they had of him. they only saw cold joel, unfriendly joel who had zero time for anyone except ellie and, maybe you. but they didn't see the way he was when you were alone. they didn’t see the way his face would drop all its coldness when he'd look at you, his fists following in suit and unraveling into gentle hands that would tighten around your jaw to pull you up for a kiss. instead, all they saw was a hardened old man leading on some girl young enough to be his daughter.

and even if he was, you didn't care. it was hard to care about anything when he'd press his mouth over yours, enveloping you in and cleansing you of everything you've ever worried about the second his tongue pushed past your lips. you replayed the way his scruff felt against your skin, your bare tummy…your inner thighs. you squirmed around in the booth at the tipsy bison, ignoring the comments about how you're going to regret getting the tattoo that you did, how joel is nice and all, but he's the last guy you should be getting a tattoo for.

you didn’t fucking care, the only thing that you did care about was how he would feel about it. and god, you hoped he liked it. you are definitely not one to handle pain all that well, and with the limited supplies cat had after tattooing ellie, you were extra nervous of all that could go wrong. but you missed joel so much, you needed something, anything, that felt like a piece of him was always with you.

the moth sticker on the neck of his guitar always did catch your eye, and when he was gone, you’d cradle his guitar, hold it the way he would and simply stare at the sticker. you imagined him the day he stuck it on, the way he’d look down at it, and maybe even smile to himself. it made your heart just about ache at the image.

you grew antsy to show joel the more you thought about it, but maintained what little patience you had left. you decided to keep it a surprise until you both got home, feeling as though the reveal was something that deserved to be private for you two alone.

—

“i have a surprise for you.” you whispered excitedly, clambering into his lap. he smiled up at you, pushing his glasses into his hair and shutting his book. his eyes fell to your fingers that slowly took their time unbuttoning each little button on the flannel that…suspiciously looks a whole lot like the one that went missing from his side of the closet.

“that so?” he hummed in that low gruff voice of his, a hot feeling stirring in his lower stomach as he watched the flannel begin to part the lower you went.

“mhm. i hope you like it.” you murmured, swallowing hard when you pulled the flannel open. his eyes lingered on yours for a moment before traveling down to the valley of your breasts, gasping when he saw a moth decorating your skin.

“are you out your goddamn mind?” joel exhaled in disbelief, tracing his fingers over the moth splayed across your sternum.

your hands gripped the fabric of your flannel, fingernail rolling over the button with nerves. “are you…are you mad?” you unintentionally whimpered, and he shook his head, sitting up with you in his lap, leaning forward and pulling his glasses back down to look at it better. “no baby no but, i…i coulda given you the sticker i had,” he laughed, unable to peel his eyes off of the tattoo. you rolled your eyes jokingly but in the back of your mind, fear was starting to settle in.

did he hate it?

“do you like it?” you asked quietly, praying he said yes. “oh, baby i love it,” he uttered heavily, bringing his stare from your chest up to your face. he pulled you by your chin, smile still on his lips while he kissed you. you cupped his face, thumbs circling around the stubble on his jaw, a giddy feeling beginning to bubble in your tummy.

“did it hurt?” he questioned with his lips still close to yours. you nodded, pecking him. “yeah. but i just thought of you the whole time,” you admitted truthfully, smiling fondly down at him. he shook his head, kissing you again. he made a sound of sympathy, running his thumb along your bottom lip. he stared at your chest before something clicked in him, making him flip you on your back.

he wasn’t phased by the surprised yelp that left you, instead he was focused on stopping your hands from trying to hide your bare chest with the flannel. “unh unh don’t cover up now, too pretty to be doin that,” he chastised lowly, devouring you with his eyes. you grew hot under him as he continued speaking. “looks so good on you…real good, wish i was there with ya while you got it done baby,” he groaned, hands groping your breasts, thumbs straying to caress the wings of the moth.

you whined hushedly, arching your back into his touch. “i do too but you were gone,” you formed something like a pout, pushing an upset finger into his chest. he tsked, holding your accusatory hand to kiss your palm. “i know, i know, already said m’sorry baby,” he murmured, taking advantage of the way you softened at his actions. he trailed kisses down your jaw, murmuring more apologies for his absences. his words were enough, and all you could do was just lean into him, taking every touch and kiss he gave you happily.

“can’t believe you did this,” he breathed out, pressing his growing bulge to your clothed core. you whined, sitting up on your elbows. your ankles lock around him eyeing him from under your eyelashes. “i just wanted to feel like you were always with me, i missed you so much joel,”

he breathed in sharply at your confessions, his cock twitching and heart racing. “oh baby,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead lovingly. “missed you too. thought about you all the time.” his hand rubbed your outer thigh making its way between your legs. “thought abt this,” he exhaled, feeling you buck down into his palm with a sweet little moan from your lips.

“missed it s’goddamn much, missed you the most though,” he muttered, the familiar twange in his voice sparking a smile across your face. he pushed your panties to the side, gathering your slick with the pads of his fingers, his cockhead weeping with precum when it registered just how wet you were with such small touches.

he pushed his middle finger in and wasted no time in fucking you with his digit just the way you liked. you cried out, gripping his wrist while he fucked into your little cunt with his finger, groaning to himself at how tight you felt.

he leaned down, kissing all over the tattoo, licking and nipping at your breasts while you tangled your fingers in his hair.

“joel—fuck, just, just—please fuck me,” you breathed out, the patience you’d been struggling to keep had finally ran out, and you couldn’t wait anymore, you needed to have him the way you’ve been craving all this time. “shit—alright, need it tha’ bad huh,” he grunted, pulling himself from out his boxers.

he held your waist with both large hands of his, pushing inside you, burying his face in your chest and groaning loudly at the way you grip him. you cried out, nails digging into his wide back, teeth grazing his shoulder while you tried to catch your breath.

the stretch burned and tingled, rippling through your skin and nerves in a way you hadn’t felt in so long. he pushed in and out of you slowly and gently, shaky little breaths that sounded obscene, fanned out over your lips from his parted mouth, and you breathed them all in, pulling him in closer.

his forehead rested on yours, kissing you while his hips grounded down into yours, taking his time to appreciate how fucking good you felt all around him. utterances of f-fuck, baby poured into your mouth from his, casting a warm sensation to spread across your cheeks.

he rocked into you, somehow going deeper with every thrust. knowing that he was filling you to the very brim sent him into a mindless delirium, and in return fastening the way he fucked you. gentleness morphed into rushed, desperation to feel you, every single inch and crevice and to make up for lost time.

you took him in, tightening your calves around his lower back, tugging at the back of his hair while his tongue lapped at your tits and sternum, losing his mind at the fact that you’ve marked yourself as his with this moth. your bold declaration of love and dedication to him turned him on in ways he couldn’t even begin to fathom and the more he thought about it, the harder his hips crashed down into yours.

“missed me so much you had to get something that reminded you of me tattooed on ya’,” he grunted, grabbing one of your legs and haphazardly throwing it over his shoulder, shuffling even closer to fuck you harder. you couldn’t even reply correctly, all you could do was tearfully babble, nodding stupidly.

“love you so much joel,” you hiccuped, entire body being nearly fucked into the headboard, tits bouncing mesmerizingly with each thrust joel sends into you.

“say it again,” he groaned, cock twitching at your open admissions. “i love you, love you love you so much,” you cried, leg beginning to tremble on top of his shoulder.

“‘love you too baby, love you so goddamn much,” he breathed out in a rasp, shuddering a heavy sigh when you tighten and pulse all around his cock.

he loved the way his hands just engulfed you, his hand almost covering the entirety of one of your breasts, palming your soft flesh. you were so easy to squeeze, to pick up and hold and fuck, and joel took full advantage of his strength and how palpable for him you were.

with ease he pulled you up along with him, still impaled on his fat cock, feeling a familiar cockiness spread in his chest when you whimpered at the feeling of him so far inside of you.

he rested on his haunches, keeping you upright with his hands gripping your hips tight, face falling into your chest once more, his beard tucking the valley of your breasts.

your bodies flowed into each other’s fluidly, hips rolling and meeting each and every thrust like clockwork, his hips coming up only to be met with yours crashing down into his. it was addicting, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, could barely even remember your own name, the only thing you could manage was fucking yourself onto joel.

“so deep,” you cried out through a series of whines and he laughed, bringing a big hand to your tummy, rubbing over where his cock bulged. you keened, lips trembling while you squeezed his shoulders. “i know baby i know,” he crooned, plastering an open mouth kiss onto you.

he slid a hand between your wet grinding bodies to rub circles over your soaked little clit, chuckling to himself when you choked on a sob at the contact. you shook like a leaf in his arms, his sweet little angel so close, he felt it in the way your cunt gripped his cock, and it filled him with pride knowing he was the only one who could unravel you like this.

“know you needa cum baby—you gonna ask me?” he growled in your mouth, biting your bottom lip testingly. you whimpered, arching your chest into his, a little pathetic nod following your actions. “s-sorry joel, please please let me cum, feels so good i-i dunno if i can hold it,” you whimpered, trying to fuck yourself on his cock.

the swirls from his fingers over your clit persisted and it made you vibrate in his hold, your impending orgasm making you lose what little control you had over your own body.

“c’mon baby give it to me, cum all over it,” he grunted gruffly, and you shook wildly, squeezing your eyes shut and collapsing in his arms while your orgasm reverberated all throughout your limbs

“joel—oh my—fuck!” you sobbed, bouncing on his cock while you rode out your orgasm, feeling milked dry as he rubbed your clit into over sensitivity.

“good baby, so fuckin’ good,” he drawled out lowly, patting your poor abused clit with his long fingers. “wanna do somethin’ for me?” he panted and you nodded eagerly.

“lie back for me,” he ordered and you obeyed, laying back down onto the pillows beneath you. he begrudgingly pulled out of your tight cunt, shushing you when you whimpered at the loss of him inside you.

he straddled you, feeling his cock ache in his rough palm when you stared up at him, resting on your elbows, cute tits perked and barely concealed from his flannel.

he shoved the material away from your flesh, jerking himself off before he put it between your tits. “push ‘em together f’me—ahh shit, y-yeah just like that—oh shit baby, keep lookin at me like that—“ he growled under his breath, fucking your tits with hard pistons from his hips.

“gonna cum, gonna cum on these cute fuckin’ tits baby,” he groaned, throwing his head back while you egged him on, whimpering and squeezing your thighs together at how he used your chest to cum, it was so hot seeing him fall apart on top of you, looking glorious and gorgeous even in such dirty circumstances.

you wrapped your lips around his leaking cockhead, the corners of your mouth peeking upwards with smugness at the way he gasped and shivered at your actions. “shit,” he groaned, his own orgasm taking over his body.

he came in your mouth, your tits still engulfing his shaft. he twitched on your tongue, whimpering to himself at the way you sucked on his tip. he pulled himself away from your plump lips, starting to soften from how sensitive he was.

he laid beside you, pulling you into his arms once more, feeling content and right with the world when you nestled into your rightful place on his chest.

“still in awe over you.” he murmured, running his fingertips up and down your arm. “you’ll get used to the tattoo soon,” you giggled and he shook his head. “meant you…you as a whole baby.” he whispered and you looked up at him, pupils dilating into hearts. “joel,” you uttered, leaning up to kiss him. “i love you,” you mumbled sleepily. he smiled, kissing your clammy forehead. “i love you too baby.”

#joel miller x reader #the last of us smut #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #game joel miller #the last of us hbo #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal #ellie williams tlou

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